Journal of Medieval Military History. Volume XI [11] 1843838605, 9781843838609

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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

CONTENTS ALDO A. SETTIA CHARLES D. STANTON GEORGIOS THEOTOKIS T. S. ASBRIDGE

Military Games and the Training of the Infantry The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account The Square “Fighting March” of the Crusaders at the battle of Ascalon (1099) How the Crusades Could Have Been Won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem’s Campaigns against Aleppo (1124–5) and Damascus (1129)

MICHAEL EHRLICH

Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard

SCOTT JESSEE and ANATOLY ISAENKO

The Military Effectiveness of Alan Mercenaries in Byzantium, 1301–1306

DONALD J. KAGAY and L. J. ANDREW VILLALON SAVVAS KYRIAKIDIS A. COMPTON REEVES RANDALL MOFFETT KELLY DEVRIES

Winning and Recalling Honor in Spain: Pro-English Poetry in Celebration of the Battle of Nájera (1367) The Wars and the Army of the Duke of Cephalonia Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429) Sir John Radcliffe, K.G. (d. 1441): Miles Famossissimus Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 French and English Acceptance of Medieval Gunpowder Weaponry

An imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge IP12 3DF (GB) and 668 Mt Hope Ave, Rochester NY 14620-2731 (US) www.boydellandbrewer.com

ROGERS, DEVRIES, FRANCE (editors)

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

XI

J ournal of

MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY

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

JOURNAL OF

Medieval Military History Volume XI

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 XI Edited by CLIFFORD J. ROGERS KELLY DeVRIES John France

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© Contributors 2013 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 2013 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 978–1–84383–860–9

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 Papers used by Boydell & Brewer Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests

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Contents

List of Illustrations and Tables

vi

1. Military Games and the Training of the Infantry Aldo A. Settia

1

2. The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account Charles D. Stanton

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3. The Square “Fighting March” of the Crusaders at the battle of Ascalon (1099) Georgios Theotokis

57

4. How the Crusades Could Have Been Won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem’s Campaigns against Aleppo (1124–5) and Damascus (1129) T. S. Asbridge

73

5. Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard Michael Ehrlich

95

6. The Military Effectiveness of Alan Mercenaries in Byzantium, 1301–1306 Scott Jessee and Anatoly Isaenko

107

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

133

8. The Wars and the Army of the Duke of Cephalonia Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429) Savvas Kyriakidis

167

9. Sir John Radcliffe, K.G. (d. 1441): Miles Famossissimus 183 A. Compton Reeves 10. Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 Randall Moffett

215

11. French and English Acceptance of Medieval Gunpowder Weaponry Kelly DeVries

259

Illustrations and Tables

The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account Map 1. Routes taken to the battle Map 2. Battle of Civitate Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard Map 1. South-Western Front of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem and the battle of Montgisard Table 1. Montgisard and distances in southern Palestine

40 41

96 103

Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 Figure 1. Southampton 216 217 Figure 2. Southampton and surroundings Figure 3. Wards of Southampton c. 1300 221 (edited by author, original map from Southampton Terrier) Figure 4. Wards of Southampton c. 1454 226 (edited by author, original map from Southampton Terrier)

1 Military Games and the Training of the Infantry Aldo A. Settia

[“I giochi militari e l’addestramento delle fanterie,” in Aldo A. Settia, Comuni in guerra. Armi ed eserciti nell’Italia delle città (Bologna, 1994), pp. 29–52] Translated by Valerie Eads

The “Little Battles” Italian communal armies were, as is well known, largely made up of infantry. Admittedly, the strength of these latter would have resulted more from numbers and determination than from combat experience;1 still, the term “infantry” properly means “a group of soldiers with a certain level of training and discipline,”2 two qualities that result only from some form of instruction. And yet, if we wish to develop at least a rough understanding of the military obligations of the mass of the population, of the armament the people had to provide for themselves, and of how it (the population) was mobilized to train for war – with the exception of some late provisions concerning marksmen3 – the sources as a rule are simply silent concerning training.4 1

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This is the opinion of Michael Mallett, Signori e mercenari. La guerra nell’Italia del Rinascimento (Bologna, 1983), pp. 20–1 [Michael Mallett, Mercenaries and Their Masters: Warfare in Renaissance Italy (Totowa, NJ, 1974), p. 12]. As is rightly emphasized by Piero Pieri, “L’evoluzione delle milizie comunale italiane,” Scritti Vari, Università di Torino. Facoltà di magistero. Pubblicazioni 29 (Turin, 1966), p. 66 [orig. “Alcune questioni sopra la fanteria in Italia nel periodo comunale,” Rivista storica italiana 50 (1933), 561–614]. See, for example: “Breve del popolo e delle compagnie del comune di Pisa,” a. 1313–1323, in Statuti inediti della città di Pisa dal XII al XIV secolo, 2nd ed. Francesco Bonaini (Florence, 1870), pp. 623–24. Marco Pozza, “Due capitolari per la milizia cittadina,” in Sei testi veneti antichi, ed. Gino Belloni and Marco Pozza (Rome, 1987), a. 1318, pp. 77–93; See also Aldo A. Settia, “L’apparato militare,” in Storia di Venezia, 2, L’età del commune, ed. Giorgio Cracco and Ghirardo Ortalli (Rome, 1995), pp. 461–505; repr. in Comuni in guerra. Armi ed eserciti nell’Italia delle città (Bologna, 1994), pp. 199–246; Leges Genuenses, Historiae patriae monumenta 18 (Turin, 1901), a. 1336, cols. 334–42; Nilo Calvini, Balestre e balestrieri medievali in Liguria (Sanremo, 1982), pp. 45–50. Antonio Ivan Pini and Roberto Greco, “Una fonte per la demografia storica medievale: le ‘venticinquine’ bolognesi (1247–1404),” Rassegna degli archive di stato 36.2 (1976), 372, have ascertained this information for Bologna, but there is a general lack which extends to the few contemporary military treatises which completely ignore the problem or limit themselves

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One can certainly maintain that economic reasons would have prevented regular exercises for the communal infantry in times of peace, but it is difficult to believe that all training would have taken place on the battlefield or in the course of the socio-political conflicts between milites and pedites.5 There is, however, a third possibility offered by certain war games – a sort of plebeian rival to the aristocratic tournaments – practiced specifically by those classes that furnished the infantry for the city militia. In fact, an entire historiographical tradition has already demonstrated that, “in certain seasons and times of the week,” the citizens employed games of just that sort to “exercise themselves for military service with innocent arms.”6 Anyone wishing to learn how, when and where the games would have taken place, who participated in them and what real connection they had with true and proper military training comes up against a problem that is not easily solved, since the sources offer only fragmentary and scattered information on the subject. Moreover, the evidence that does exist, for the most part, refers to the last centuries of the Middle Ages when, generally speaking, organization of the citizen militia had already practically dissolved, and the games had ossified into a ritual intended purely for spectator entertainment. Still, it remains true that in many cities of north-central Italy there were events that were given the suggestive names of “battaglia” (battle), “battagliola” (little battle), “guerra” (war) or alternatively, with a certain classicizing presumption, pugna, bellum, ludus (fight, war or battle, game). Moreover, such generic names obscure the actual differences among them. Sometimes they were simple volleys of stones exchanged between adolescents, sometimes more complex contests that involved the entire population. Inconsistent usages make it all the more difficult to distinguish between the two types of games. In other cases the data available do not allow us even to establish with

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to abstract paraphrases of Vegetius; only Marino Sanuto Torsello, Liber secretorum fidelium crucis in Gesta Dei per Francos 2, ed. Jacques Bongars (Hanover, 1611), pp. 262–63, at the beginning of the thirteenth century records the usefulness of practicing with both the bow and crossbow (in balestando vel sagittando) as well as with lances (longis lanceis). This is the hypothesis of J.F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during the Middle Ages, from the Eighth Century to 1340, trans. Sumner Willard and S. C. M. Southern (Amsterdam and New York, 1977), pp. 152–53 [The 2nd ed., rev. and enlarged (Woodbridge, 1997), pp. 176–77, of this translation restores Verbruggen’s original notes.] Cf. Aldo A. Settia, “I Milanesi in Guerra: organizzatione e techniche di combattimento,” Atti dell’11 congresso internazionale di studi sull’altro medioevo 1 (Spoleto, 1989), p. 271 [repr. in Comuni in Guerra. Armi ed eserciti nell’Italia delle città (Bologna, 1994), pp. 93–114; translated as “Infantry and Cavalry in Lombardy (11th–12th Centuries),” Journal of Medieval Military History 6 (2008), 58–78. Cf. Ercole Ricotti, “Sulla milizia dei comuni italiani nel medio evo. Canni storici,” Memoria della reale Academia delle scienze di Torino, 2nd ser., 2 (1840), pp. 153–54; idem, Storia delle compagnie di ventura 1 (Turin, 1845), p. 126; Antonio Pertile, Storia del diritto italiano 2 (Padua, 1880), p. 401; Piero Rasi, “Exercitus Italicus” e milizie cittadini nel alto medioevo (Padua, 1937), pp. 177–81; idem, “Gli ordinamenti delle milizie cittadine nel periodo comunale,” Annali della facoltà giuridica. Università degli studi di Camerino 25 (1959), 77.



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c­ onfidence if it is a matter of simple games or of real battles among the citizens.7 Moreover, it was not uncommon for what began as a game to turn into a genuine armed conflict. On the basis of a later testimony we know, for example, of the grave discord born in February 1090 at Piacenza between the common people and the cavalieri because of the pugna which “at that time was fought in the empty space between the church of S. Maria of the Temple and the road to Arcive.” One of the cavalieri fought with great ferocity8 against a footman. The common people who were among the spectators, seeing their own champion was having the worst of it, intervened to help him. The horseman was struck by thrown stones and mud and then pummeled with both hands and sticks. The other horsemen present responded in kind toward the infantryman, and from this was born a battle that involved the common people and the aristocracy of the entire city.9 There could well have been political and ideological reasons that lay behind this event, and of the prolonged secession by the citizens that followed it,10 but certainly all the circumstances of time and place, as well as the formalities with which the pugna takes place – though the chronicler does not give much detail on these – match perfectly with similar events attested later in other cities. At Piacenza, moreover, the practice of military games would seem to be found depicted in iconographic sources more or less contemporary with the recorded 7

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For example, “in hoc anno [1158] in festo S. Bartholomaei Ceccanenses pugnaveruent inter se; miles Landi de Balle de Montone, et miles Ionathae Tusculanae, qui perdidit alio die,” Annales Ceccanenses, ed. Georg Heinrich Pertz, MGH Scriptores 19 (Hanover, 1866), p. 284; see also Stefano Gasparri, “Note per uno studio della cavalleria in Italia,” La cultura 26 (1988), 4, n. 4 [Idem, I milites cittadini. Studi sulla cavalleria in Italia (Rome, 1992), pp. 43–54]. The same doubt is also valid for some cases cited by Jacques Heers, Partiti e vita politica nell’Occidente medievale (Milan, 1983), pp. 254–55, especially for those regarding Cremona and Modena concerning which the author generally attempts to distinguish [English: Jacques Heers, Parties and Political Life in the Medieval West, trans. David Nicholas (Amsterdam, 1977), p. 280]. Such is the sense that ought to be attributed to the adverb iniquissime in the typical usage of the author of the Annales Ceccanenses. Cf. the glossary in Johannes Codagnellus, Annales Placentini, ed. Oswald Holder-Egger, MGH SS rer. Germ. 23 (Hanover, 1901), p. 138; the perplexity expressed by Gasparri, “Note,” p. 29, about the conditions of the event is thus at least in part, revised. Codagnellus, Annales Placentini, p. 1. “Millesimo nonagesimo die mense Februarii sedicio magna orta est inter populum et milites Placentie occaxione pugne, que eo tempore fiebat in terra vacua, que erat inter ecclesiam Sancte Marie de Templo et viam que vadit Arcive. Accidit infortuito casu, quod miles quidam iniquissime pugnabat con quodam pedite ita quod unus ad altero dividi non poterat. Et dum sic preliarentur videntes populares, quod pedes resistere militi minime poterat, lapides et lutum super militem proiecerunt et, quod deterius fuit, fustibus manibus ipsum graviter percusserunt. Videntes similiter milites qui ibi erant peditem percusserunt et verberaverunt. Clamore undique facto milites omnes civitatis in parte una congregati et populates in alia, prelium magnum inter eos est inceptum, quod duravit usque ad obscuram noctem.” Cf. Pierre Racine, “La nascita del commune,” in Storia di Piacenza 2, Dal vescovo conte alla signoria, 996–1313, ed. Piero Castignoli et al. (Piacenza, 1984), pp. 68–9; idem, “Città e contado in Emilia e Lombardia nel secolo XI,” in L’Evoluzione delle città italiane nell’XI secolo, ed. Renato Bordone and Jörg Jarnut (Bologna, 1988), pp. 131–32; see also note 46 below and the corresponding text.

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events.11 Such a possible coincidence between local customs and artistic production could in fact be greater than has been recognized until now, and therefore would be worth looking into.12 A similar “combat between citizens” involving the use of weapons and the throwing of stones became a traditional contest at Gubbio between 1130 and 1140. The event became so bloody in nature that Bishop Ubaldo considered it opportune to intervene and modify the rules.13 Other analogous events are documented with some frequency in the course of the same century. In 1167, while Frederic I sojourned at Faenza he heard that the citizens were docti ad pugnam (trained in fighting) and asked them to provide a demonstration in his presence “not with iron weapons, but with wooden ones.”14 The expressions used indicate that he was not referring to mounted chivalric tournaments, but rather to the exercises or games of the common people. Some decades later, in fact, Otto IV made a stop at Bologna and, acting in a manner not dissimilar to his predecessors, condescended to be present, in the piazza of the commune, at the “game of the little grills [grilled visors]” (ludum de gradizolis),15 the local version of the “little battle.”16 11

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There are in fact Romanesque mosaic pavings in the crypt of the basilica of St. Savino in Piacenza datable to the first decades of the twelfth century in which the lower band represents respectively, from left to right, encounters between horsemen, between bare-handed men and between men armed with a round shield and wooden club; these could be inspired precisely by the war games that they contested in the city. See the reproductions in Enriquetta Cecchi Gattolin, I tessellate romanici della basilica di S. Savino e le origini del romanico a Piacenza (Modena, 1978), figs. 112, 112b, 123b; see also Anna Segagni Malacart, “Pittura,” in Storia di Piacenza 2, pp. 706–17, and the bibliography cited there. [See also, http://www.duepassinelmistero.com/ Sansavinopc.htm. – Translator] The iconographic motif of a combat between two men armed with club and shield shows up, in fact, across the continent. See, for example, William Melczer, “Un tema profane nella scultura di Barisano da Trani: ‘il gioco delle mazze’,” in Studi di storia dell’arte in memoria di Mario Rotili (Naples, 1984), 1: 113–26, 2: plates 61–67; François Marie Besson, “‘A armes égales’; une représentation de la violence en France et en Espagne au XIIe siècle,” Gesta, 26 (1987), 113–26; see also Maria Laura Gavazzoli Tomea, “Villard de Honnecourt e Novara. I topoi iconografici delle pitture profane del Broletto,” Arte Lombarda n.s. 52 (1979), 37–44. Filippo Ugolini, Storia dei conti e duchi d’Urbino (Florence, 1859), 1: 207, 2: 502–03, doc. 4. At that time (1408–09) the citizens, subdivided into two sides (“uppers” and “lowers”) that included the four quarters of the city, still fought for eight to fifteen days after the octave of Easter; whoever by means of blows forced their adversaries back into their homes won; the games involved “nobles, citizens and artisans” indifferently. In truth, from the text it cannot be established if the seditio satis dura in which the citizens fought among themselves was a game or a real battle. François Dolbeau, “La vita di sant’Ubaldo vescovo di Gubbio, attributa a Giordano di Città di Castello,” Bollettino della Deputazione di storia patria per l’Umbria 74 (1977), 100. Magister Tolosanus, Chronicon Faventium, ed. Albano Sorbelli, RIS2, 28.1 (Città di Castello, 1910–38), a. 1167, pp. 56–7. “Verum quia audiverat Faventinos fore doctos ad pugnam, ut coram eo luderent, non tamen cum armis ferreis set ligneis, eorum precepit rectoribus.” Corpus chronicorum Bononiensium, ed. Albano Sorbelli, RIS2, 18.1.2 (Città di Castello, 1910– 38), a. 1209, p. 71. “Et fecit fieri ludum de gradizolis in platea comunis Bononie.” See below, notes 25 and 71 with the corresponding text. Concerning this interpretation, cf. also the observations of Gasparri, “Note,” p. 33.



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Toponymic testimony of a “field of battle” not far from Genoa is found in 1069,17 but its location (which in any case is imprecise) does not seem easily connected with possible “battles” practiced by that city’s population. That connection does, however, appear to be possible elsewhere. We know in fact of the existence in 1155 of a site designated by the name of Battaliola located outside the walls of Tortona, and in 1187 there was at Modena the “meadow of Batalia”:18 this is sufficient circumstantial evidence to suggest that analogous games also took place here. At Bergamo around 1179 a “little battle of scuthezolis” (i.e., with the employment of “small shields”) took place, during which stones were also thrown.19 Before the end of the century a similar battle was fought at Orvieto: in 1199 it also degenerated into a bloody encounter repressed by Pietro Parenzo with a harshness that brought upon him the vendettas of the cittadini.20 The evidence already presented here makes it probable that the combats (certamina) to which the Pisans devoted themselves in 1168 corresponded to the game with baton and shield (ludus ad massascutum) securely attested by that name, especially after 1263.21

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Luigi Tommaso Belgrano, “Il registro della curia arcivescovile di Genova,” Atti della Società ligure di storia patria, 2 (1862) part 2, p. 164 (a. 1069): “in Primanico campo de batalia”; it would be therefore a location in the valley of the Sturla River a few kilometers northeast of Genoa. Respectively, Vincenzo Legè, “Federico Barbarossa all’assedio di Tortona,” Bollettino storico subalpino 14 (1909), 260; some of the besiegers lined up “per Braidam et Battaliolam.” Girolamo Tiraboschi, Memorie storiche modenesi col codice diplomatico illustrato con note 3 (Modena, 1794), doc. 548, a. 1187, p. 101: notes a canal “that flowed by the pratum di Batalia”; see also note 24 above. A “braida” or “campo de Batalia” is also attested near Bobbio. Codice diplomatico del monastero di S. Colombano di Bobbio fino al anno MCCVII, ed. Carlo Cipolla and Giancarlo Buzzi, 3 vols. (Rome, 1918), 2: 276; see also 3: 135. See A. Sala, “Problemi, avvenimenti, aspetti della vita civile in Bergamo nel secolo XII,” Bergomum 81 (1987), 55, testimony produced in 1216 on actions taking place around 1179: it was necessary to repair the church of San Vincenzo damaged “through a war or battle of small shields” (per guerram vel bataliam de scuthezolis); other texts alluding to the same event speak of damage occurring “on the occasion of a little battle” (occasione bataliole) and “because of stones being thrown” (pro lapidibus tractis) onto the church. See also, Claudia Storti Storchi, Lo statuto di Bergamo del 1331 (Milan, 1986), p. 129: “De non dimittere facere batayolam in civitate nec burgis Pergami”; notwithstanding, the practice endured in the fifteenth century. Statuta magnifice civitatis Bergomi, ed. B. Riccio (Bergamo, 1727), a. 1428, p. 305. Vincenzo Natalini, S. Pietro Parenzo. La leggenda scritta dal maestro Giovanni canonico di Orvieto (Rome, 1936) (= Lateranum, n.s. 2.2), p. 157. “Prohibuit enim urbevetanos in carniprivo a bellorum conflictibus abstinere quia eo tempore sub ludi occasione multa consueverunt homicidia perpetrari,” but the heretics “tantam sub pretextu ludi fecerunt primo quadragesime die oriri discordiam, ut in foro publico civitas tota pugnaret cum gladiis, lanceis et lapidibus per turres et palatia circumposita.” Bernardo Maragone, Annales Pisani, ed. M. Lupo Gentile, RIS2, 6.2 (Bologna, 1930), p. 44. In January 1168, on the frozen Arno, “youths played board games and chess and and freely waged great combats” (iuvenes ludos tabularum et scaccorum et certamina magna libere fecerunt); Chronicon aliud breve Pisanum incerti auctoris, ibid., October 1264, p. 113, under the walls of Lucca the Pisans made “ludum ad massascutum et alia iucunda tripudia fieri.” See also, in general, Virgilio Salvestrini, Il gioco del ponte di Pisa: Saggio bibliografico (Pisa, 1935).

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In the course of the succeeding centuries the tradition of the games is documented in a good number of other locations as a regular long-standing custom. A “batalia de scuazolis” was fought in 1241 at Vercelli.22 Its name recalls precisely the practice at Bergamo at least since 1179 and finds correspondence in other Po Valley cities. The Parmans, says Salimbene, “fought with shields” at Carnevale,23 and the Modenese in the early years of the fourteenth century devoted themselves “to a game with shields or brazarolis.”24 South of the Tuscan-Emilian Apennines, in particular, identical games for the most part took the name of the sticks with which the contenders were armed: ludus clavarum was used at Bologna in 1250,25 bellum de maççis at Florence in1325,26 ludus cum baculis at Arezzo in 1327.27 The name massascutum used, as noted above, at Pisa in 1263; at Lucca in 1346;28 and later at 22

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“Item si quis inventus fuerit portare ad bataliam de scuazolis mazolam, plumbatam et blonzinas vel aliquem istorum gladiorum …” without the required licence would be fined ten soldi. Statuta communis Vercellarum ab anno MCCXLI, ed. Giovambatista Adriani, in Leges municipals 2.1, Historiae Patriae Monumenta 16 (Turin, 1876), col. 1123. “… in prato communis, ubi nundine fiebant antiquitus et ubi postmodum tempore carnis privi Parmenses pugnabant cum scutis,” Salimbene de Adam, Cronica, ed. Giuseppe Scalia (Bari, 1966), p. 892. “Aliquis vero ludere non debeat ad ludum de scudetis vel brazarolis, et qui contrafecerit si fuerit miles vel filius miletis vel potens vel filius potentis solvat pro banno centum solidos Mutine, et pedes tres libras Mutine et plus ad voluntatem potestatis,” but the practice persisted in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Statuta civitatis Mutine anno 1327 reformata (Parma, 1864), pp. 445–46; see Tommasino de Bianchi de Lancellotti, Cronaca Modenese 1 (Parma, 1862), pp. 54–5; Venceslao Santi, La storia nella “Secchia rapita,” 1 (Modena, 1906), p. 123. But this is only one of the designations. See Luigi Frati, Statuti di Bologna dall’anno 1245 all’anno 1267, vol. 2 (Bologna, 1869), p. 271: “Ordinamus quod ludus graticulorum vel clavarum non debeat fieri circa foveam civitatis et circle intus vel extra”; if the podestà and the council will be of the opinion “de faciendo predicta luda graticullorum, fiant in Campo mercati”; in the additions this location is also excluded, but information about the areas in which the game is permitted undergoes changes from one codex to another. “Bellum de maççis non permictat fieri facere in civitate vel districtu” with a fine of ten lire; “et qui percusserit aliquem in bello de maççis cum cultello vel alio genere ferramenti” would be punished as prescribed for such offenses. Statuti della repubblica fiorentina, II, Statuti del podestà dell’anno 1325, ed. Romolo Caggese (Florence, 1921), p. 189. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina dall’anno MCCLXXX al MCCXCVIII, 2 (Florence, 1898), a. 1295–96, pp. 553, 555, also has provisions “contra illos qui de cetero fecerint batalias, vel iverint vel steterint in loco in quo fiat circium bracchiarum”; see also Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 8 vols. (Florence, 1973), 7: 547–48 [Robert Davidsohn, Forschungen zur Geschichte von Florenz, 4 vols. (Berlin, 1896–1908)]. “Nullus debent ludere ad ludum pugillorum” with a fine of twenty soldi if younger than fifteen years old and and forty soldi if older: “et nullus ludat ad paliossos de ligno vel ferro vel galossos vel rombolas vel cum cannis sive baculis vel lapidibus infra cerchias civitatis ad dictam penam.” Statuto di Arezzo (1327), ed. Giulia Marri Camerani (Florence, 1946), p. 244. Salvatore Bongi, Bandi lucchesi del secolo decimoquarto (Bologna, 1863), 18 May 1332, p. 7. No one “can or should in the meadow of St. Donato, or in the city of Lucca, nor in other regions play or do with the shield, nor with the fist, nor a similar game” (non possa né debbia in nel prato di S. Donato, o in nella città di Lucca, nè in altra parte giuocare o fare a braccia, nè a pugna nè simigliante giuoco) under a fine of one hundred soldi; 25 February 1346, p.



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Orvieto29 reflected both the principal offensive (massa) and defensive (scutum) armaments employed. The same armaments also came to be used by others in those places where the games kept the generic name of “battle” or “little battle” as we know of Perugia from 1260 on,30 of Siena from 1253,31 of Pavia from 1297,32 and (with

29

30

31

32

130: Let no one “make a game of fists nor of stones, nor of baton and shield, nor any other tumultuous game.” (faccia giuoco di pugno nè di pietre, nè di massascudo, nè a neuno altro giuoco dizordinato); see also Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 546. “Quod in civ. W et in burgis vel prope Civ. in locis consuetis vel alibi nulla persona faciat prelium” with a fine of 25 lire for one participating with arms, 10 lire if without arms, 20 soldi if “cum iectulo”; which the authorities would oversee “omni mense a festo omnium Sanctorum usque ad Quadragesimam maiorem.” Capitula carte populi [1323] in Codice diplomatico della città di Orvieto. Documenti e regesti dal secolo XI al XV, ed. Luigi Fumi (Florence, 1884), p. 767. “They made numerous kinds of battle: the one called baton and shield, the battle with stones and rocks and the one done with arms and the one with fists.” (Si facevano più sorti di battaglia: quella detta al mazzascudo, la battaglia a sassi e a pietre e quella fatta colle armi e quella colle pugna); in 1310 “a process against certain persons who made a battle with baton and shield and with stones under the escarpments of the city was quashed” (fu cassato un processo contro certi che fecero battaglia al mazzascudo e a sassi sotto le ripe della città); prohibitions of the “prelia de lapidibus pluribus et pluribus civibus et in pluribus locis” in 1322; a battle prohibited in 1332 bore a penalty of 10 lire for common people and 200 for nobles if fought with arms and 20 soldi and 10 lire respectively if fought with fists; ibid., n. 2, see also Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 546. Vincenzo Ansidei, Regestum reformationum comunis Perusii ab anno MCCLVI ad annum MCCC 1 (Perugia, 1935), 13 February 1260, p. 121: “Cum multa pericula ex ludis iam orta sint, si placet quod potestas debeat prohibere quod ludus qui sollet fieri cum clipeis in platea vel in foro sive in alia parte civitatis not fiat”; ibid., 10 October 1260, p. 289, “in vigilia Omnium sanctorum nec in festivitate nec etiam in sequenti die fiat ludus seu batalia in platea mercati neque in campo, sed penitus prohibeatur,” under penalty of 50 lire for every miles and 25 for every pedes. For dispositions made “in campo prelij,” 28 December 1266, see Vincenzo Ansidei and Luigi Giannantoni, “I codici delle sommissioni al comune di Perugia,” Bollettino della regia deputazione di storia patria per l’Umbria 10 (1904), 218–19, n. 169; Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 245; see also notes 54, 65, 67, 68, 71, 72, 76, 78, 81, 111, 113 below. Lodovico Zdekauer, “Il frammento degli ultimi due libri del più antico Constituto senese (1262–1270),” Bullettino senese di storia patria 1 (1894), a. 1253, p. 148: “Et cum mala sequantur occasione lapidum, qui proiciuntur in Campo Fori pro pugna et aliis ludis, qui ibi fiunt annuatim quod multi hominess moriuntur et tegule franguntur” forbids the throwing of stones (not the fight itself) nonetheless forbidding participation to those less than six years old; ibid., 3 (1896), chap. 3, pp. 80–1: those who injure others are not punishable “pro ludo et in bataglia que fierent in Campo fori ut consuetum est,” but the battle itself was then completely prohibited in chapter 194. See also Giovanni Cecchini, “Palio e contrade nella loro evoluzione storica,” in Il palio di Siena, ed. Giovanni Cecchini and Dario Neri (Siena, 1958), pp. 28, 142; Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 544; see also notes 35, 66 below. “Item statuimus quod nullus clericus de cetero pugnare debeat in batalioliis” with a fine of 20 solidi, “Synodus diocesana a Guidone IV episcopo Papiensi celebrata anno MCCLXXXXVII,” in Concilia Papiensia, ed. Giovanni Bosisio (Pavia, 1852), p. 152 n. 16; Anonymus Ticinensis, Liber de laudibus civitatis Ticinensis, ed. Rodolfo Maiocchi and Ferruccio Quintavalle, RIS2 11.1 (Città di Castello, 1903), a. 1330, pp. 25–6 (the anonymous author has since been identified as Opicinio de Canistris); John Cortland Koenig, Il “popolo” dell’Italia del nord nel XIII secolo (Bologna, 1986), p. 179, note 137, quoted from a manuscript of Gabrio di Zamorei who lived in Pavia after 1365, “Papienses faciunt batayolas in quibus singulis annis plures moriuntur”;

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less certainty because of the lateness of the documentation) of Venice33 and of Cremona.34 At Siena the “battle” and the “game of little shields” (ludus de scudicciolo) mentioned in 1262 were perhaps different from the game “of the helmet” (dell’elmora) attested some years later;35 and the game practiced at Treviso from the beginning of the thirteenth century, in which it was prohibited to participate with a lance, was perhaps again the same thing.36 In more than one of the cities mentioned there flourished at the same time a custom of battagliole fought by simply throwing stones.37 Events of this sort also spread into many locations for which there are no clear reports of other forms of martial games and – despite the repetition of limitations and of prohibitions – sometimes endured until the early years of the twentieth century. For the thirteenth century we can record, in chronological order of attestation, the existence of such games at Vicenza (1264), Padua (1276), Treviso (thirteenth–­

33

34

35

36

37

for another record of the Pavian little battles in a manuscript work of Umberto Decembrio for the times around 1400, see below notes 50, 54, 90 and the corresponding texts. Giovanni Battista Gallicciolli, Delle memorie venete antiche profane ed ecclesiastiche 1 (Venice, 1795), p. 122; Pompeo Molmenti, La storia di Venezia nella vita privata dalle origini alla caduta della repubblica 1, 6th ed. (Bergamo, 1922), pp. 175–78; Bianca Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste veneziane. I giochi popolare, le cerimonie e il governo (Florence, 1961), pp. 40–50; see also Settia, “L’apparato militare,” text corresponding to notes 120–130; see also the text corresponding to notes 47, 51, 59, 60, 73, 80, 111, below. The games took place between two parties called the “Castellani” and the “Nicolotti” comprising respectively the quarters of Castello, San Marco and Dorsoduro and of Santa Croce, San Polo and Cannaregio. Francesco Robolotti, Dei documenti storici e letterari di Cremona (Cremona, 1857), p. 31, records the festival of the “battagliola” and of the “rigetto” (throwing back) which were still celebrated in the cathedral plaza during the seventeenth century by throwing fruit (“apples, melons, watermelons”) with catapults between two opposing factions. See also note 56, below. Besides sources already given in note 30 above, see Zdekauer, “Il frammento,” p. 153: “Quod nullus ad ludum di scodicciolo prope civitate Senarum per VI miliaria possit ad dictum ludum capere aliquos perdices”; Cronaca senese dei fatti riguardenti la città e il suo territorio, di autore anonimo del secolo XIV in Cronache senesi, ed. Alessandro Lisini and Fabio Iacometti, RIS2 15.6.2 (Bologna, 1932), p. 76, 1 November 1291: “How the great battle of the helmet took place between S. Martino and Chamolia” (Come si fece la grande battaglia a l’Elmora tra S. Martino e Chamolia); these two “thirds” (terzi) chased away those of the “Third of the Città … all the way to Helmet Alley” (Terzo di Città … per infino al chiasso dell’Elmora) where they barricaded themselves and were aided by others. In this way a battle occurred in which men of standing (di buoni gentiliuomini) were killed; from that time they “began to compete with fists in order to get rid of the battle with stones and poles.” See also, Il Costituto del comune di Siena volgarizzato nel MCCCIX-MCCCX 2, ed. Alessandro Lisini (Siena, 1903), p. 256, and notes 66, 94 below and the corresponding text. Giuseppe Liberali, Gli statute del comune di Treviso 1 (Venice, 1950), a. 1207–1218, p. 113. “If anyone should carry a lance into the city for the game” (Si quis lanzam in civitate ad ludum portaverit), let him pay a fine of one hundred soldi. As for example at Lucca, Orvieto and Siena; see notes 28, 29, 31 above; for Florence, Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 547 and the sources cited there; for Bologna, Bartholomeo Cepola, Consilia criminalia (Lyon, 1540), p. 77v: “Stante consuetudine Bononie quod pueri colluctantes ad invicem faciant duas partes et una pars adversat alteri proiciendo lapides …” See also, notes 15, 25 above and the corresponding text.



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fourteenth centuries), Alexandria (1297),38 and in the succeeding century at Tivoli (1305), Brescia (1312),39 Ferrara (1327), Como (1335),40 Foligno (1350), Trieste (1350),41 Turin (1360), Ascoli (1377), Pinerolo (1380).42 Later still, 38

39

40

41

42

Fedele Lampertico, Statuti del comune di Vicenza MCCLXIV (Venice, 1886), p. 147, “let there not be any battle with stones between boys” (prelium non fiat de lapidibus inter pueros); Statuta magnifice civitatis Paduae 2 (Venice, 1767), p. 128, [a. 1276] “whoever should have a fight with stones for a game in the city or suburbs of Padua” (faciat pugnam cum lapidibus causa ludi in civitate Paduae vel suburbiis) must pay 20 soldi up to the age of fourteen years, 60 soldi up to the age of twenty years, and 10 lire beyond that age; Blanca Betto, Gli statute di Treviso (sec. XIII–XIV) (Rome, 1984), p. 495: No one beyond the age of twelve years should “occasione ludi lapides cum manibus trahere seu prohicere”; Codex statutorum magnifice communitatis atque diocesis Alexandrine (Alexandria, 1547), p. 378, “quod nulla persona audeat vel presumat ludere ad battaloriam” fines of 20 soldi were imposed on those less than fourteen years old, and 60 soldi on those older than fourteen. “Statuto di Tivoli del MCCCV,” ed. Vincenzo Federici, in Statuti della provincia romana, ed. F. Tomassetti, V. Federici and E. P. Egidi (Rome, 1910), p. 223, “de cetero ludus seu battalia cum flundis (slings) vel lapidibus ad limarium fluminis, mateçanam prope flumen vel ad circinum vel alio loco not fiat”; “Statuta civitatis Brixiae, MCCCXIII,” ed. Federico Odorici, in Leges municipales 2.1, Historia patriae monumenta 16 (Turin, 1967), col. 1658, “aliqui pueri seu iuvenes cuiuscumque aetatis vel conditionis existant a decem annis supra, non audeant vel presumant de coetero praeliari vel bellum aliquod seu praelium facere super castro Brixiae”, either in the city or in the suburbs, with a fine of 20 soldi for those over fourteen years of age. Luigi Napoleone Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara per la maggior parte inedited ricavate da documenti (Ferrara, 1864), p. 126, the “little battle” takes place every year on 22 July “between youths and especially students” divided into two squads “who assail one another with fruit flung from slings” in memory of the revolt of 1317 against the Catalan mercenaries who were governing the city; it was prohibited in 1537 by Ercolo II closing the “Praisolo” where the encounters took place; cf. also Luciano Chiappini, Gli Estensi (Milan, 1967), p. 63; Statuti di Como del 1335. Volumen magnum 1, ed. Guido Manganelli (Como, 1936), p. 157, “Si aliquis puer cuisdam etatis sit, fecerit bellum cum alio in civitate Cumana, vel infra confinia, de lotis, lapidibus, vel vergantis et baculis vel mantegatiis” he is liable to pay 10 soldi (the clausula was repeated and updated in 1402). Statuta communis Fulginei, 2, Statutum populi, ed. Angelo Messini and Feliciano Baldaccini (Perugia, 1969), a. 1350, p. 190, “Quod in dicta civitate Fulginei vel extra, in Campo S. Marie, carbonariis novis vel veteribus civitatis eiusdem vel alibi, non fiat nec ordinetur per aliquos cives vel commitatenses seu forenses aliquod prelium, bellem seu battaglia cum pungiis, zuppis di terra, flondolis aut gettis lapide,” with a fine of 5 soldi for minors; Marino Szombathely, Statuti di Trieste del 1350 (Trieste, 1930), p. 266, “Quod nulla persona sit ausa ire ad fatiendum ad prelium vallis Santi Michaelis, seu ad lapides, ubi dicitur ad Pondaresium,” with a fine of 40 soldi. Dina Bizzarri, Gli statute del comune di Torino del 1360 (Turin, 1933), p. 101, “Item quod batagliole puerorum per pueros in civitate Taurini vel extra civitatem de cetero non fiant,” with a fine of 12 denarii; Statuti di Ascoli Piceno dell’anno MCCCLXXVII, ed. Lodovico Zdekauer and Pietro Sella (Rome, 1910), p. 148, “We order that no one can make a battle or battles with children, or youths or grown men on Sundays or feast days or other days, not in the field of Paregnano or in another place near this city” (Ordenemo che non se possa fare bactaglia overo bactaglie de mammoli, de iuveni overo de homini ne li dì de domenicha overo festivi et ne li altri dì in ne lo campo de Paregnano overo in altro loco ad turno essa ciptà), with a fine of 25 lire (see also pp. 105–06 where it seems, however, to discuss real battles); Albino Caffaro, Pineroliensia. Contributo agli studi storici su Pinerolo ossia vita pinerolese specialmente negli due secoli del medio evo (Pinerolo, 1906), pp. 20–1, a battagliola was fought between youths

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stone-throwing is documented at Mantua, Mondovi, Città di Castellano and Milan,43 but it seems fairly certain that additional research could verify the the truth of what Teofilo Folengo (1496–1544) asserted about his own time: In nearly every city, it is a common practice That rival boys fight rock wars.44

Thus it happened, whether in the Mantua of Baldus or at Sutri where the tradition of chivalric cantari [poems using eight-line stanzas rhyming abababcc, ottava rima] placed the childhood of Orlando. In the “Reali di Francia” of Andrea Barberino, in the city of Lazio – to be understood as a literary transposition of Florence – just as in reality at Sutri, they fought “many youthful games, sometimes with stones and sometimes with cudgels,” when it was not a question of simple fists:45 in all these kinds of games the future paladin naturally excelled. How the Games Were Conducted The diversity that the “little battles” present from city to city is due in the first place to the varied kinds and dates of the documentation. Beyond the inevitable

43

44

45

of the “Borgo” and of the “Piano” and between men of Pinerolo and Miradolo (1371) in which the parish priest of Miradolo participated; limits and prohibitions were repeated in 1353, 1378, 1385. B. C. Cestaro, “Vita mantovana in ‘Baldus’,” Atti e memorie della reale Accademia virgiliana di Mantova, n.s. 8.2 (1915), 57–8, reports outcries against “bataiole” between youths in the years 1489–1517; Statuta Civitatis Montisregalis (Monteregali, 1517), p. 199, let no one go “ad aliquam batagloria, seu paglorios in toto fine et posse Montisregalis”; Liber Statutorum Civitatis Castelli (Città di Castello, 1538), p. 51v, let no one “faciat battagliam aliquam de lapidibus, terra, nec herba cum rombolis seu rombola sive zacchonibus vel baculis aut alio modo”; Giorgio Giulini, Memorie spettanti alla storia, al governo ed alla descrizione della città e campagna di Milano ne’ secoli bassi 4, 2nd ed. (Milan, 1855), p. 148, reports a place still called in his own day (1714–80) the “Prato comune” and the persistence until the mid eighteenth century of the “indecorous” custom through which “the youths of the different quarters of the city come to fight, strking each other with batons and similar things which often resulted in deaths and serious injuries.” “Est quasi communis totas usanza per urbes/ ut contrari agitent saxorum bella citelli,” Teofilo Folengo, Baldus in Merlin Cocai (Teofilo Folengo), Le Maccheronee 1, ed. Alessandro Luzio (Bari, 1927), book 3, lines 121–22, p. 84. I am grateful to my colleague Mario Chiesa for having pointed out this work to me and for valuable bibliographic information on the work of Folengo. [Baldo / Teofilo Folengo, trans. Ann E. Mullaney, I Tatti Renaissance Library 25 (Cambridge, MA, 2007), p. 75.] “… molti giuochi fanciulleschi, alcuna volta con le pietre, alcuna volta con le mazze.” Andrea da Barberino, I reali di Francia, ed. Giuseppe Vandelli and Giovanni Gambarin (Bari, 1947), pp. 547–49; see also La storia di Milone e Berta e del nascimento d’Orlando in Cantari cavallereschi dei secoli XV e XVI, ed. Giorgio Barini (Bologna, 1905), pp. 55–6, 230. The bare-fisted brawl is in vogue either as a separate competition or as an attenuated form of the games contested with arms which were considered too dangerous. The practice is attested both south of the Apennines – at Florence (1278), Siena (1291), Arezzo (1327), Lucca and Orvieto (1332), Foligno (1350) – and in the north at Brescia, Venice and perhaps Milan. Other similar vigorous contests are perhaps hidden beneath unclear local names (Arezzo, Verona, Treviso).



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differences it is, however, certainly possible to identify many common characteristics. The timing of the games is almost universally the same. It usually coincides with the festival days of the carnival cycle,46 although extensions and reductions are not lacking.47 There are, however, also places in which the combats could take place on any festival day without any particular seasonal limitation.48 There is also variety in the places in which the games take place. Sometimes the game proceeds, not without some back-and-forth, from a “field of battle” located outside the walls to the principal piazza of the city, as happened at Perugia; similar oscillations are noted at Orvieto and Bologna, and they presumably also occurred in other places.49 At Pavia the games were, so to say, itinerant, taking place in a number of different sites within and without the city according to the days, times and occasions.50 It was most common, however, 46

47

48 49

50

Thus, in general, at Pisa from Christmas to Lent, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 17; at Pavia (see note 54 below, but combats with shields continued here beyond this period, see note 50 below); Florence, Siena, Orvieto, Trani (see note 81 below); if one may consider as equivalent the “springtime” in which the games were contested at Sutri, then February 1090, the date for the pugna of Piacenza, is also included in the Carnevale period, see above note 9 above, and the corresponding text. At Venice the “little battles” were contested from September to Christmas, Molmenti, La storia, p. 177; in contrast, at Gubbio it was restricted to eight or fifteen days “after the Octave of Easter,” Ugolini, Storia, 2: 502–03; at Perugia the season varied, A. Fabretti, “Nota storica sulla battaglia cosi detta dei sassi, trata dagli antichi statute di Perugia,” Rivista storica italiana 1 (1884), 805, “All Saints’ Day, the Sundays of the month of May and of the first half of the month of June.” Johanne Antonio Campano, Braccii Perusini vita e gesta, ed. Roberto Valentini, RIS2 19.4 (Bologna, 1929), a. 1417, pp. 124–25, “Nec perpetuo et continenti certabatur anno; ludorum initium iam inde ab kalendis martiis per festos duntaxat dies: nec amplius, quam in duos, qui sequebantur, celebrari menses consueverant.” See also note 30 above. As, for example, at Ravenna, Foligno, Ascoli and, occasionally, also at Perugia; see note 30 above. For Perugia, in addition to what has been given in note 30 above, the statutes of the fourteenth century expressly prohibited battle on the piazza of the commune allowing it, however, on the “field of battle,” Fabretti, Nota, p. 802; but in the fifteenth century they did fight in the piazza, Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124; for Orvieto, see notes 15 and 25 above, and note 72 below. Perhaps this also happened at Cremona, see note 34 above and the text corresponding to notes 109 and 110 below; at Pisa in the fifteenth century, as soon as it is well documented, the game regularly took place “on the piazza of the Anziani, today, the piazza of the Cavalieri,” Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 18, but it is not stated that it took place there in preceding centuries. Anonymus Ticinensis, Liber de laudibus, p. 26, “Hec autem faciunt in tribus tantum locis, que ita sunt in medio divisionis urbis, que divisio non parietibus set solis parochiis facta est, ut sint ipsa loca utrique parti communia, videlicet post prandium in prato extra et prope urbem qui dicitur Caminum, ubi pars superior quosdam defendit monticulos, pars vero inferior planiciem occupans illos expugnat. Post nonam autem ad recreationem corporum pugnant in platea Atrii, ubi Regisol est partis terminus medium utriusque; deinde in curia comunis, que dicitur Episcopi, ubi circa lapidem in quo banna legi consueverunt viriliter se expugnant: observant semper familia potestatis ubique, ne se iniuriose ledant, vel arma ferrea, presertim offensoria, secum ferant. Pars vero quoque in die Carnis privii et ultimo vicerit, se victoria collaudatur. Post Carnis privium autem nunquam taliter pugnant, nisi forte duo sigillatim sibi clipeis obviando.” Sometimes perhaps also in the valley near S. Giacomo delle Vernavola (once

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for the game to take place in a suburban location, often in a meadow: “the meadow called Caminum” (pratum quod dicitur Caminum) at Pavia, “the S. Donato meadow” at Lucca, the “meadow of the commune” (pratum communis) at Milan, the “battle meadow” (pratum de batalia) at Modena, the “Praisolo” at Ferrara. Elsewhere there is instead a “field” or a site designated by its own toponym, commonly situated beside a river. At Brescia, however, in the fourteenth century the struggle took place “above the castle” (super castro) and in Venice on one of the “war bridges” chosen from time to time.51 Participation in the games was not limited by either age or social status. At Piacenza in 1090, at Perugia in 1260 and at Modena in 1327 we see as many milites as pedites involved along with their respective sons. At Gubbio and at Orvieto nobles and commoners are found side by side, and thus at Siena in 1290 numerous “gentlemen” were among the victims of the game “of helmets.”52 In the same epoch at Pavia and at Pinerolo clerics also tended to participate in the “little battles.” At Perugia in the fifteenth century the games continued to attract the entire town (omnis civitas) without distinction.53 The participants are subdivided into two groups according to a criterion that could be of a topographic character, for example, the northern (pars superior) against the southern (pars inferior) parts, as at Gubbio, Pavia and Perugia,54 or else simply distinguished by different colors as at Pisa.55 Most of the reports, however, limit themselves to speaking of two line-ups56 each with further internal

51

52 53

54

55

56

a location for judicial duels) “adhuc aliquando pugnant iocose simul unus de parte superiori, et alius de inferiori,” ibid., p. 28. Respectively: “meadow” (prato), notes 50, 28, 43, 18, 40 above; “field” (campo), notes 30 (Perugia), 41 (Foligno), 42 (Ascoli); Valle S. Michele at Trieste, note 41; beside a river, notes 39 above (Tivoli) and 56 below (Turin and Moncalieri); for Brescia, note 39 above; for Venice, see Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 42. Respectively, above, notes 9 (Piacenza), 30 (Perugia), 24 (Modena), 13 (Gubbio), 20 and 29 (Orvieto), 35 (Siena). Respectively, above, notes 32 (Pavia), 42 (Pinerolo); for Perugia see note 54 below. The joint participation of the infantry and cavalry in these games perhaps also facilitated, beyond the prejudices of class, the harmony of the two categories on the military level. Cf. Settia, “I milanesi,” pp. 271–72 [trans., pp. 63–4]. For Gubbio, see note 13 above; for Pavia, Anonymus Ticinensis, Liber de laudibus, p. 25, “Ut autem a puericia melius doceantur ad bellum, singulis annis a kalendis Ianuarii usque ad quartum feriam Cinerum exclusive, singulis diebus dominicis atque festis et in die Carnis privii cum quinta feria precedenti, quedam spectacula faciunt, quo vulgo bataliole, sed latine convenientius bellicula nuncupantur. Dividunt enim civitatem in partes duas, quarum aquilonaris pars superior dicitur, meridiana vero inferior, quarum unaqueque multas societates sive cohortes habet, que per singulas parochias dividuntur.” For Perugia, Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, “Omnius civitas duas in partes divisa, superiorem inferioremque, novi et inusitati generis armis instruebatur … Quisque suam in partem secedebat, duaeque civium acies, duo prima fori occupabant ora, medium, quod erat spatium pugnae relinquebatur.” Salvestrini, Il gioco, pp. 18–19: “the players were divided into two factions: that of the Rooster (gallo) and that of the Magpie (gazza). The first wore gold helmets, the second vermillion,” from the fifteenth-century poemetto that describes the mazzascudo game. As for example, at Bologna in the fifteenth century, see note 72 below; for Florence, Luca Landucci, Diario fiorentino dal 1450 a 1516, ed. Iodoco Del Badia (Florence, 1881), p. 124,



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subdivisions based on the urban quarters;57 only in some better-documented cases is it possible to catch a glimpse of a division into smaller units, provided with specific identifying signs, based on parishes and societies of arms.58 The two parties arranged themselves at the extremities of a field, which must be understood as rectangular, with the center left free as disputed ground. There are known to have been many cases in which the general combat was preceded by individual challenges,59 and others in which the game, to prevent abuses, took place under the constant surveillance of the men of the podestà.60 The arms everywhere consisted of a wooden baton (mazza) and a shield.61 Champions in judicial duels – which, technically, were more similar to the “little battles” than to actual battles – were equipped with these same arms.62 The shield did not, however, have only a defensive function since, at Pavia as much as at Pisa, it also served as a striking weapon.63 All offensive arms of iron were prohibited

57 58

59 60 61

62

63

in 1495 during Carnevale “the groups of the four quarters with their banners, trumpets, Palagio pipes” (le schiere dei Quattro quartieri con le loro bandiere, trombe, pifferi di Palagio) came together [Luca Landucci, Florentine Diary from 1450 to 1516, trans. Alice de Rosen Jervis (London, 1927)]; see also Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 547; at Cremona, Robolotti, Dei documenti, p. 31; at Siena, Cecchini and Neri, Il palio, p. 28; for Turin and Moncalieri, Giovanni Bragagnolo and Enrico Bettazzi, Torino nella storia del Piemonte e d’Italia (Turin, 1914), 1: 903–04, “the adversaries gathered on the opposite banks of the Po and began to hurl projectiles with slings; then the boldest threw themselves into boats and crossed the river to finish the battle hand-to-hand” (si schieravano gli avversari sulle rive opposte del Po e incominciavano a lanciar proiettile con le fionde; poi i più arditi si gettavano nelle barche, passavano il fiume a finir la battaglio corpo a corpo). As shows up for example at Florence, note 56 above; Milan, note 43; Siena, note 35, Gubbio, note 13, and Venice, note 33. As at Pavia, note 54 above, and at Pisa, Sylvestri, Il gioco, p. 19; at Pavia, at Christmas, the Society of S. Siro offered to the saint a candle with their little-battle symbols depicted in red (societas S. Syri habentem cignos depictos in superficie rubea quod illorum insigna in belliculis). Anonymus Ticinensis, Liber de laudibus, p. 39. As happened at Pisa, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 20; at Venice, Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 42; and at Pavia, see note 90 below. At Pisa, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 18; at Venice, Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 42; at Pavia, see note 50 above. As is deduced in general from the name itself given in many places to the “battle”; see the text corresponding to notes 22–35 above. Shield and baton (bastone) are expressly named at Pisa, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 17; at Perugia in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, “mazzam ligneam, targiam, tabolatium, pavesem” are permitted, Fabretti, Nota, pp. 803–05; Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, describes the combatatants of the second group “dextra alligatum brachio scipionem, laeva clipeum ferentes”; for Pavia see note 90 below; at Como, Brescia and Arezzo only batons are spoken of, see notes 40, 38, 27 above. Liber consuetudinum Mediolanum, anni MCCXVI, ed. E. Besta and G. L. Barni (Milan, 1949), p. 100, prescribes that the champions in judicial duels fight “cum scuto e fuste” and would be protected by “feltrum quoque in dorsum et in ima tibia”; and earlier “duelleum statuatur fieri saepe per scutum et cistam”; see also Federico Patetta, Le ordalie (Turin, 1890), pp. 438, 490. At Pavia sport combats were sometimes fought in the place that was also the seat of judicial duels, see note 50 above. For Pavia see note 90 below; for Pisa, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 20, “and to strike with shields

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with great severity64 a sign that there were frequent attempts to use them to gain an unfair advantage in the games. At Perugia, at Pisa, at Pavia and at Bologna an interesting distinction emerges between groups of combatants furnished with more or less heavy protection according to the tasks entrusted to them.65 There is more such information on defensive arms from the beginning of the fourteenth century: at Siena participants wore “a helmet or really a basket [meaning wicker-work] on the head” (elmo or vero cistarella in capo), “a shield on the arm” (scudo al bracchio), “an arming cap, coat, cuirass, a plate, jambs on the legs or really cuisses on the thighs” (cuffia da armare, giubba, corazza, lamiera indosso, gamberuoli a le gambe o vero cosciaroni a le cosce);66 defensive equipment that therefore does not seem to differ substantially from that normally used in war. At Perugia in the middle of the century any type of shield (targa, tavola, pavese, bracciarola) was permitted along with protection of the lower limbs (gambiere), of the trunk (corazza, lamiera, giupparello) and of the head [barbute with aventail or closed helmet] (barbuta con maglie ed elmo chiuso).67 This last, a prerogative of the most heavily armed competitors, was usually furnished with showy decorations and a protective visor in the form of a grill, a detail punctiliously recorded at Pavia and Perugia,68 and which at Bologna in the thirteenth century gave the name to the game, called in fact “game of the little grill” (ludus de gratizolis or ludus graticularum).69 Such headgear had perhaps something in common with the later exemplars conserved today at Pisa.70 A simple enumeration of the elements in use in the fourteenth century does not allow one to make any positive comparison with the protective arms described in detail for Perugia at the beginning of the following century when we see iron and boiled leather laid on over copious padding. It is important to note, moreover, that the arms worn in the game are heavier that those used in

64 65

66 67 68

69 70

with great force / then to demonstrate vigorously with batons” (e chon gran forsa schudi urtare / poi chole masse prove chon vigore). As, for example, at Vercelli, note 22 above; and Perugia, Fabretti, Nota, pp. 802–3, note 47 above. Respectively: Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, speaks clearly of two categories of combatants; iactores, equipped lightly, and armati, heavily armored; Salvestrini, Il gioco, pp. 59–62, this is however only attested for the game “of the bridge” (del ponte) which later replaced the “club-shield” game (mazzascudo); at Pavia the difference was shown by the headgear, see note 90 below; for Bologna, see the text corresponding to note 72 below. Il costituto del comune di Siena, p. 256. Statuti di Perugia dell’anno MCCCXLII, ed. Giustiniano degli Azzi (Rome, 1916), p. 134; see also Fabretti, Nota, pp. 804–05. See respectively note 90 below and Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124. “Supremum verticem ferrea tegebat galea. Huic quo lapidum late volitantium casum cernere quove hostem possent, lata erant ab ore relicta foramina in rostri speciem excedente galea.” See notes 15 and 25 above and note 72 below with the corresponding text. Lionello Giorgio Boccia, “Le armi della ‘battaglia’ del ponte,” in Il gioco del ponte di Pisa: Memoria e ricordo in una città (Pisa, 1980), pp. 40–7.



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war.71 The arms used at Bologna in the revival in the fifteenth century of what was probably the “game of the little grills” (ludus graticularum) of the twelfth appear similar to those of Perugia: the players equipped with heavy arms have “sallets of re-cooked leather” (celata di cuoio ricotto) with a grill to protect the face, cuirasses and arm-guards while the stone-throwers opposing them wear only “a lorica and gauntlets” (lorica e manopole).72 Later at Venice the contenders protected themselves indifferently with “small cuirasses, morions, burgonets, helmets and shields, plates, round shields” (piccolo corazze, morioni, borgognone, elmetti e scudi, piastre, rotelle) or also with only cloths “wrapped around the arm to ward off blows” (avvolti al braccio per parare i colpi).73 The stone-throwers at Perugia also did this,74 and the same at Mantua, where, facing adversaries who “pull rocks and round cobblestones from under their clothes,” the young Baldus “wraps his coat around his arm for protection and prepares to use his cloak as a shield.”75 Victory was not always won simply by physically driving the adversary from the playing field;76 they were sometimes chased to their houses, as happened at Siena in 1290. Likewise at Sutri, according to Andrea da Barberino, the games moved about “in many parts of the city.”77 Fatalities occurred among the participants rather frequently,78 but – as was held to be worthy of frequent emphasis79 – the killings were considered accidental and did not give rise to enmity or vendettas.

71

72

73 74 75

76 77 78 79

Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124 [Mullaney trans., p. 87]; see also the translation into Italian of Pompeo Pellini in Giovanni Antonio Campano and Giovanni Battista Poggio, L’historie et vite di Braccio Fortebracci detto da Montone e di Nicolò Piccinino (Venice, 1572), pp. 82v–83r. The interpretations of J. C. L. Sismondi, Storia delle repubbliche italiane de’ secoli di mezzo (Lugano, 1838), p. 958, and Luigi Bonazzi, Storia di Perugia dale origini al 1860, ed. Giuliano Innamorati, 2nd ed. (Città di Castello, 1960; 1st ed., 1875), pp. 446–58, are reductive and misleading. Lodovico Frati, La vita privata di Bologna dal secolo XIII al XVII, con appendice di documenti inediti (Bologna, 1900), p. 136; this an example of “the game of eggs” (gioco delle uova) from the eggs that were thrown in place of other more dangerous projectiles; the author reliably identifies this game with the former “game of the grills” (ludus graticularum). Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 43. Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, “his pro clipeo erat laeva involutum pallium, qui et coniciendis et excipiendis saxis apti, iactores vocabantur.” “saxa piant, tundosque cavant sub veste giarones / (mantelli voltat reparamina brazzo / deque sue cappa targhae sibi praeparat usum.” Folengo, Baldus, book 3, lines 297–98, p. 89 [Mullaney trans., p. 87]. Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, “Victoria erat medium occupasse forum atque inde adversario reiecisse.” See, respectively, notes 13, 35 above; “in many parts of the city” (in molte parte della città), da Barberino, I reali, p. 547; similarly, this happened many times at Ravenna, see note 86 below. For Pavia, see note 32 above; for Perugia, Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 124, “nam quotannis deni vicenique contriti obrutique cadebant.” As for example at Perugia, Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 125, “nec caesorum occisione inimicitiae aut odia gignebantur. Vulgo perisse et casu putabant, qui perissent.”; at Pisa, Salvestrini, Il gioco, p. 21.

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At Perugia, an important role in the encounter is reserved for the stonethrowers, whose intervention is however elsewhere omitted or only occasionally documented.80 The tendency to attenuate the dangerousness of the projectiles grew over time with the replacement of stones by less lethal objects such as various kinds of fruit, snow, grass and even eggs.81 It finally came to the point where it was forbidden not only to throw any object, but also to use even wooden weapons, so that the struggle was reduced to a simple exchange of blows, eliminating the distinction from the game “of the fists” (dei pugni) which had already come also to be practiced there.82 Similar progressive attenuations and prohibitions also targeted the “little battles” that were fought purely by means of throwing stones. The lines between the two types of fight nonetheless remain difficult to draw; on one hand the “battles” with baton and shield – as shown above – could be integrated with throwing stones; on the other hand, a spontaneous tendency to make use of improvised wooden weapons was noted in the course of the volleys of stones.83 At Turin and at Moncalieri, for example, after being subjected to the shot of a trebuchet from the opposite bank of the Po, the most ardent crossed the river to finish the encounter hand-to-hand.84 There is an analogous confusion concerning the age of the participants: although the volley of stones itself was supposed to be reserved for children less than fourteen years old, in fact adults also tended to participate.85 The Problem of Origin The custom of the “battles” – as demonstrated above – appears already strongly rooted in Italian cities during the first decades of the twelfth century, but to what

80

81

82 83 84 85

Stone throwing during the little battles must have been normal at Bergamo, Siena and Orvieto, see the works cited in notes 19, 29, 31 above; it was exceptional at Venice, Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 43; and at Pisa, at least in the game of the bridge which was derived from the mazzascudo, Maria Ines Aliverti, “Il gioco storico. Introduzione,” in Il gioco del ponte, note 70 above, p. 14. For Perugia, an addition to the statutes, not precisely dated, by which the battle is allowed only “cum nive vel herbis vel pomis non offendibilibus” is cited by P. Tommasini Mattiucci, “Nevio Moscoli da Città di Castello, antico rimatore sconosciuto,” Bollettino della reale Deputazione di storia partia per l’Umbria 3 (1897), 113; for Ferrara, see note 40 above; for Città di Castellano, note 43 above; for Bologna, note 72 above; for Cremona, note 34 above. At Trani, oranges were thrown, I registri della cancellaria angioina 3, 1269–70, ed. R. Filangieri (Naples, 1951), p. 147 n. 240, “iuxta solitum ritum civitatis ipsius, ab arangiorum ictibus et aliis ludibus festivum ludum inceperunt.” See also, Aldo A. Settia, “La ‘battaglia’: un gioco violento fra permissività e interdizione,” in Gioco e giustizia nell’Italia di Comune, ed. Gherardo Ortalli (Treviso, 1993), pp. 121–32, with the bibliography cited there. As happened, for example, at Gubbio, Siena and Venice; see also note 45 above. As, for example, at Milan; see note 43 above. See note 56 above. The statutes in fact specifically provide sanctions differentiated by age; see notes 27, 38, 39 and 42 above.



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point in time would it be possible to trace back its origin? We should distinguish here, as far as is possible, the games practiced at close range with wooden weapons from the volleys of stones. These latter seem to have been very old. According to the chronicler Agnello, who wrote in the ninth century, a combat (pugna) with stone-throwing in which all the citizens participated, according to the quarter of the city to which they belonged, had been fought at Ravenna since the seventh century.86 It appears, therefore, that the volley of stones can be dated back at least to the age of the Gothic domination of Italy, a conclusion which we could provide other evidence to support,87 were it not that precise testimony indicates that the games date from even more remote times. St. Augustine, referring to events that took place in A.D. 418, tells of intervening to convince the citizens of Cesarea in Mauretania (today in Algeria) to desist from a “civil strife” (pugna civilis) called “the Crowd” (Catervam vocabant); in which even close relatives clashed in stone-throwing leading to mutual killing: a “cruel and chronic evil” (crudele atque inveteratum malum) custom, Augustine emphasizes, inherited from their fathers, grandfathers and more distant ancestors.88 The passage puts us therefore face to face with a ferocious ritual “volley of rocks” dating back to antiquity, well established and already complete in all its components: the city divided into two parties and the combat taking place at a particular time of year. Research conducted in the first part of the twentieth century has established that the stone-throwing contests, mainly among adolescents, are a general phenomenon, very widely diffused, from the Middle Ages until the mid nineteenth century, with ceremonial characteristics clearly passed on by folk tradition. The clashes involving blows using stones are thus connected to armed dances and certain other violent games that “must have a very old common

86

87

88

Agnellus qui et Andreas, Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis, ed. Oswald Holder-Egger, MGH Scriptores rerum Langobardorum et Italicum saeculorum VI–IX (Hanover, 1878), p. 361; in the afternoons of all feast days, the entire population without any distinction as to age, sex or class participates in the fight; the quarters take the names of their respective city gates; the game is very bloody and gives rise to merciless vendettas. See also, André Guillou, Régionalisme et indépendence dans l’empire byzantin au VIIe siècle. L’exemple de l’Exarcat et de la Pentapole d’Italie (Rome, 1969), pp. 162–63; idem, “L’Italia bizantina dall’invasione longobarda alla caduta di Ravenna” in Longobardi e bizantini, ed. Paolo Delogu, André Guillou and Gherardo Ortalli (Turin, 1980), pp. 267–69. As L. A. Muratori noted, De spectaculis et ludis publicis in Antiquitates Italicae medii aevii 2 (Milan, 1739), cols. 831–32; precise allusions to mock battles for the sake of military training are contained in Cassiodorus Senator, Variae, ed. Theodor Mommsen, MGH Auctores antiquissimi 12 (Berlin, 1894), bk. 1, chap. 40, a. 507/511, pp. 36–7, and in Magnus Felix Ennodius, Panegyricus dictus clementissimo regi Theoderico, ed. Friedrich Vogel, MGH Auctores antiquissimi 7 (Berlin, 1895), chap. 19, a. 507, p. 213. Sanctus Aurelius Augustinus, De doctrina Christiana, ed. Joseph Martin, Corpus Christianorum, series Latina 32 (Turnhout, 1962), bk. 4:24.53, p. 159; this passage was noted by Muratori, De Spectaculis, cols. 833–34. [Among a number of translations, see Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana, ed. and trans. R. P. H. Green (Oxford, 1995), pp. 269, 271.]

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original background.”89 The volleys of stones customary in the Italian cities are therefore to be considered as a ritual practice, the origins of which are impossible to fix in a precise place or time; they cease therefore to be objects of investigation by historians and enter into the discipline of folklore. The fights “with small shields,” “with grills,” “with batons” and “with baton and shield,” even though they may derive from and are often connected with stone throwings, can, however, be recognized as an event distinct from them. These categories of game, in fact, become clearly documented only in the same period when the citizen militias – based on a numerical predominance of infantry, with the relevant problems of training – come into being. Especially significant in this regard is the description of the “little battles” in Pavia left by Opicio de Canistris, which, although it concerns a single city and was written only in the third decade of the fourteenth century, certainly reflects a much older and more widely diffused practice. First of all, Opicio places his evocation of the battagliole after a celebration of the power of the Pavian communal army, presenting the bellicula, the little battle, as just the means by which his fellow citizens trained themselves for war. The contenders are naturally equipped with arms of wood, among which the ligneus fustis, the club, takes the lead; also the shields with which the combatants hurl themselves against one another in different phases of the game are woven of roots (radicibus texta) while the helmets, designated by the name of ciste, are woven of withies (viminibus textis).90 Now, four cistarelle and six leg pieces de radice are found listed in 1202 among the arms stored in the castle of Robbio Lomellina,91 a border stronghold disputed by Pavia and Vercelli.92 It is not improbable to think that they may 89

90

91

92

Arnold van Gennep, Manuel de folklore français contemporain, 1, Introduction générale et première partie: du berseau à la tombe (Paris, 1977), pp. 169–72; Giusepe Cesare Falletti Villafalletto, Associazioni giovanili e feste antiche. Loro origini 3 (Milan, 1942), pp. 174–75. Anonymus Ticinensis, Liber de laudibus, p. 25, “Pugnant autem ad invicem ligneis armis, aliquando simul omnes, aliquando duo seorsum, se per occursum a longe clipeis ferientes alterutri obviando. Habent enim in capitibus galeas ligneas, scilicet viminibus textas, quas cistas vocant, pannis et mollibus interius exteriusque farcitas, habentes in superficie decisa vel depicta sue societatis insignia et ante faciem cratem ferream cicumflexam ac retro caudam equinam per quam, ne cadant, ab aliis sustententur: quedam vero eorum, non caudam equinam, set solam habent pinam erectam, et hee capellete vocantur, quas deferunt precedentes, tenentes omnes scuta radicibus texta et ligneos fustes; quarum singulas partes precedit et regit dux solo fuste armatus”; see also notes 32, 50, 54 above. Cesare Manaresi, Gli atti del comune di Milano fino all’ anno MCCXVI (Milan, 1918), doc. 285, p. 392 (1 December 1205) with the included list of the objects taken away from the Pavians of the castle of Rubbio, written 28 December 1202: “scuta VII. peditum et cistarellas IV et gamberias VI di radice valentes solidos LX minus solidos II.” For an interpretation of this (here partially revised), see Aldo A. Settia, “L’esercito comunale vercellese del secolo XIII: armamento e techniche di combattimento nell’Italia occidentale,” in Vercelli nel secolo XIII. Primo congresso storico vercellese (Vercelli, 1984), pp. 335, 350, n. 57–58; repr. in idem, Comuni in Guerra, pp. 134–56. On the events at Robbio in the communal period, it is sufficient here to refer to Ermanno Gardinali, Robbio. Un borgo rurale dalla preistoria al secolo XIX (Cilavegna, 1976), pp. 72–92.



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have constituted equipment of which the local garrison made use for exercises analogous to those of the town dwellers, revealing, perhaps, a broader training organization extending to the countryside as well.93 Head protectors called cistarelle were also worn then, as mentioned above, at Siena94 so that, at least for parts of the defensive armament, the Pavian and Sienese war games appear closely related.95 Another aspect of the “little battles” fought in Pavia is the variety of the actions that are comprised within them: in the first place, in the afternoon of the assigned feast days, the pars superior took a position in the meadow outside the city on certain small elevations and undertook to defend them, while the opposing side, drawn up on the plain, attempted to conquer the high ground. Thus, a genuine, proper tactical exercise on the ground took the place of simple physical sport-training for which other places and times were designated.96 Similar exercises, though not explicitly so named, would seem to be implied in all those other places for which we are also relatively better informed regarding the conduct of the game, that is, in the mazzascudo of Pisa and in the battaglia of Perugia. The similarities that the Pavian battagliole – and hence other similar contests – seem to have with the training precepts contained in the Epitoma rei militaris of Vegetius, a didactic text that remained well known throughout the Middle Ages, are relevant to this point. The ancients, the author indeed explains, in order to better exercise the recruits “used to weave around the shields with osier in the manner of wicker framework, so that the wicker work would give the shields double the weight which the ordinary shield normally had. And also they gave the recruits wooden clubs likewise of double weight in place of swords. And in this manner they exercised at the stakes not only in the morning, but also in the afternoon.” The future combatants practiced throwing spears, which also weighed more than usual, against a pole solidly fixed in the ground. Those showing some aptitude were selected to be taught shooting with the bow while the others practiced “diligently throwing stones by hand and with slings.” Further on Vegetius again recommends that the soldiers “be detained very often through much of the day, even to the point of sweating, for practice in shooting arrows, for directing missile weapons, for throwing stones, either by hand or by sling … to occupy any place, and to advance so as not to be turned aside

93

94 95 96

It is recorded that games similar to those at Pavia were also practiced at Vercelli, see note 22 above; the wooden weapons existing at Robbio in 1202 could have therefore belonged as much to the Pavian garrison who had abandoned them when the Vercellians took possession of the castle as to the Vercellians themselves. See above, the text corresponding to note 66. Further, the recurrence of the same terminology for the defensive armament of champions in judicial combats must be pointed out, see note 62 above. See note 50 above.

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by their tentmates [practicing against them] when they meet with their shields against one another.”97 As a matter of fact, we find here stated all of the characteristics of the war games that we saw practiced in the Italian cities, not excluding the part that stone throwing has in them. Medieval theories of war, as is known, drew upon the Epitoma rei militaris at least from the Carolingian age,98 but it is quite possible that its influence on local military organization was much older and deeper than is usually thought.99 Even if it turns out to be impossible to establish this with certainty, it is not therefore improper to conjecture that the knowledge of, and the will to apply, the rules of Vegetius had induced civic authorities to integrate, encourage and regulate for the purpose of military training ritual games of more remote origin that had developed in the Italian cities, as in other parts of the West. Once again, we are not able to establish when this would have happened, but we know that the civic organization developed at Milan by the eleventh century provided for the preparation of men for combat by means of appointed magistri belli, that is, genuine, proper military instructors.100 Nor were training activities limited to the inhabitants of that city, since in 1039 Archbishop Aribert called for a mobilization extending to all the faithful of the archdiocese of Milan “versed in arms” (armis instructos) without establishing any difference of a social or economic nature.101 At Bergamo, according to Mosè di Brolo, before 1125 the boys learned how to handle forged weapons while also learning to endure the pangs of hunger and thirst as well as the discomforts of heat and cold.102 97

98

99

100

101

102

Flavius Vegetius Renatus, Epitoma rei militaris, ed. Charles Lang (Leipzig, 1869; repr. Stuttgart, 1967), [1.11], 1.15–16, pp. 18–19; 3.4, p. 71; see also 2.23, p. 56–9, a compendium of training modalities, and 2.15 and 3.14, pp. 48–50, 96–9, on disposition of forces in the field, which could equally have influence on the development of games with a training purpose. The possible connection between the Pavian battaglie and the text of Vegetius was noted by Muratori, Antiquitates Italicae 2, col. 516. [Flavius Vegetius Renatus, Epitoma rei militaris, ed. and trans. Leo F. Stelten (New York, 1990), has both Latin and English text, pp. 27, 35, 133.] Wilhelm Erben, Kriegsgeschichte des Mittelalters (Munich, 1929), pp. 58–66; Matthias Springer, “Vegetius im Mittelalter,” Philologus 123 (1979), 85–90; see also Philippe Contamine, La guerra nel medio evo (Bologna, 1986), pp. 289–91 [La Guerre au Moyen Age (Paris, 1980); War in the Middle Ages, trans. Michael Jones (Oxford, 1984)]. There is, for example, evidently an echo of Vegetius where the text of Ennodius speaks of the necessity to exercise the youths with mock battles; cf. Ennodius, Panegyricus, I.40 chap 19, with Vegetius, Epitoma, 1.14. Concerning the Milanese resistance to Conrad II, “ut a magistris belli erant edocti … competenter et caute certabant,” Landulphus Senior, Mediolanensis historiae libri quatuor, ed. Alessandro Cutolo. RIS2 4.2 (Bologna, 1942), s.a. 1037, p. 62; see also Settia, “I Milanesi,” pp. 268–69 [trans., pp. 60–2]. Arnulfus, Gesta archiepiscoporum Mediolanensium, ed. Ludwig C. Bethmann and Wilhelm Wattenbach, MGH SS 8 (Hanover, 1848), p. 16. “iubet ilico convenire ad urbem omnes Ambrosianae parochiae incolis armis instructos, a rustico usque ad militem, ab inope usque ad divitem”; see also Settia, “I Milanesi,” text corresponding to n. 62 [trans., p. 71]. Guglielmo Gorni, “Il ‘Liber Pergaminus’ di Mosè di Brolo,” Studi medievali, 3rd ser., 11



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If at Bergamo the site of the “Field of Mars” (Campo Marzio) was no longer a theater for military exercises but, as in other cities, in Italy and elsewhere, purely a toponymic reminiscence of Roman times,103 at Verona the “Field of Mars” for a long time kept, together with the name, certain functions connected with military organization. It sheltered “oxen and other livestock” when the army was mobilized104 and, from the beginning of the fourteenth century, was the place where the crossbowmen practiced.105 The importance that the institution had in the citizens’ life is proven by the fact that in 1194, founding the village of Palù, the commune allotted an adjoining area of land to the Campo Marzio as a pasture for horses (pro equorum pasculo),106 and it must have been intended also as land for the military instruction of the future inhabitants. An occasional sign of training activity can also be found in other cities; for example, a Ravennese document of 1221 mentions a suburban public space in which “the Ravennese race and were accustomed to race in the past.”107 Around the middle of the thirteenth century, in special circumstances, “at Venice the doge had all the people collectively training.”108 Finally, still in the thirteenth

103

104

105

106

107

108

(1970), p. 452. “Nam pueri discunt simul arma sitimque famemque/ ferre, simul solis gravidos estus hiemesque.” Gorni, “Il ‘Liber Pergaminus’,” p. 446, “Hic Martis iuvenes affectabantur ad arma/ atque feras pugnas ictusque repellere parma./ Marcius inde quidem Campus locus iste vocatur,/ quamvis nullus ibi ludus vel pugna geratur.” The same took place at Padua, for example, Silvana Collodo, “Il Prato della Valle nel medio evo,” in Prato della Valle. Due millenni di storia di un’avventura urbana, ed. Lionello Puppi (Padua, 1986), pp. 60–1; and at Besançon, Léon Levillain, “Campus Martius,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 107 (1947–48), 62–8. Liber iuris civilis urbis Veronae, ed. B. Campagnola (Verona, 1728), a. 1228, pp. 55–6 n. 66. It was forbidden to pasture oxen in the Campo Marzio from Easter to St. Martin’s (11 November) with a few exceptions, among which were oxen and cattle held for market and the armies, “bubus et bestiis pro mercati ibi positis, si mercato ibi fient, vel pro exercitibus.” See also, Silvana Anna Bianchi, “Fanti, cavalieri e stipendarii nelle fonte statuarie veronesi,” in Gli Scaligeri, 1277–1387, ed. Gian Maria Varanini (Verona, 1988), p. 158. A decision taken by the Council of the commune of Verona on 16 October 1304 provided that from then on “balistrarii guaite non cogantur ire ad sagitandum diebus dominicis in Campo Martio,” Archivio di Stato di Verona, Esposti, pergamena 1441 (a copy dated 18 January 1317). I cordially thank my colleague Gianmaria Varanini for his courteous communication on this unpublished material. The decision, it must be noted, runs directly counter to what was being decided elsewhere at the same time, see note 3 above. Meaning war horses for the inhabitants of the new center, although there is no further information on the military obligations of the population of Palù. Andrea Castagnetti, “Primi aspetti di politica annonaria nell’Italia comunale. La bonifica della ‘Palus comunis Verone’ (1194– 1199),” Studi medievali 3rd ser., 15 (1974), 394, 416. Marco Fantuzzi, Monumenti ravennati de’ secoli de mezzo 2 (Venice, 1802), doc. 101 (12 March 1222), pp. 189–90, “caput loci qui habentur per publicam, in quo Ravennates currunt et currere consueverunt.” The document reprises a preceding donation of the tenth century so that Rasi, “Exercitus Italicus,” p. 179, immediately incorrectly ascribed the date to that period; similarly, idem, Gli Ordinamenti, p. 77. “… messere il doge fece addestrare a Venezia tutto il popolo veneziano collettivamante,” Martin da Canal, Les estoires de Venise. Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dale origini al 1275, ed. Alberto Limentani (Florence, 1972), p. 134 [Martin da Canal, Les Estoires de

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century, the statutes of the Società del popolo of Cremona obligated the captain elected in each quarter of the city to lead his men every Sunday afternoon to the place called Il Ceppo, outside the Mosa gate, to exercise them in the use of offensive and defensive weapons.109 Also from Cremona comes the report that at the beginning of the fourteenth century “the citizens trained monthly in the skill of arms with wooden implements” (addestravano i cittadini nel mestiere delle armi con istromenti di legno) in order to be ready when called; in this case more than ever the training appears close to the military games that we know were also practiced at Cremona;110 although a specific connection between the two activities is lacking, it is therefore very probable that there would be coordination between them. At Pavia and at Pisa, moreover, we have observed a direct relation between the smaller units that presumably constituted the town militia and the groups that engaged in the mock battles. Contemporaries, then, tend to exalt the didactic value of the “battagliole” on the military level – and have been willingly followed in this by modern commentators.111 Like the exercises of the youths of Bergamo two centuries earlier, the games practiced at Pavia also justified themselves, according to Opicino, because the citizens “from youth would be well-taught for war” (a puericia melius doceantur ad bellum).112 The “battaglia” periodically fought at Perugia was considered “a wonder and well-suited to exercise bodies and wits” (cosa invero molto meravigliosa e adatta ad esercitare le persone e l’ingegno), and it was thought to be precisely the brutality of their civic game that explained the fact that the people of Perugia were “so valorous in spirit and body” (così valoroso d’animo e di corpo).113 In the same spirit Teofilo Folengo makes his hero Baldus, a persistent participant in stone throwing at Mantua as a boy, say,

109

110 111

112 113

Venise, trans. Laura K. Morreale (Padua, 2009)]; see also Settia, “L’apparato militare,” text corresponding to notes 131 and 132. Ugo Gualazzini, Il “populus” di Cremona e l’autonomia del comune (Bologna, 1940), p. 334. The dating of this text, fixed by Gualazzini at 1229, and the text itself which survives only in a seventeenth-century translation, are, however, controversial; see most recently Koenig, Il popolo, pp. 167–68. Robolotti, Dei documenti storici, p. 75, does not, however, cite a specific souce; see also the text corresponding to note 34 above. See, for example, Bonazzi, Storia di Perugia, p. 448; Sismondi, Storia delle repubbliche, p. 958; Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 7: 549; Tommasini Mattiucci, “Nerio Moscoli,” p. 113; Salvestrini, Il gioco, pp. 15–16; Tamassia Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 41. See respectively notes 102 and 54 above. Campano, Bracci Perusini vita, p. 125, quoted in the text following the translation of Pellini, note 71 above. An actual “operational” use of youths throwing stones is attested in Perugia in 1374 against the heretics who were installed in the city. Bernardus Aquilanus, Chronica fratrum minorum observantiae, ed. Leonhard Lemmens (Rome, 1902), p. 13. (I owe the information concerning this text to the courtesy of my colleague Grado G. Merlo, whom I cordially thank.)



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Let me go Mother, I beg you. What good does it do to cry so much? Let me instigate lots of battles with stones, so that later I can bravely take up mightier weapons.114

This seems to give fully the reasons for the pedagogical orientation coming into favor in the humanistic age which not only exalts the educative value of fighting and of training in arms (certainly in part imitating the precepts of Vegetius) but also emphasizes the traditional “battagliole” among youths.115 To what extent such exercises turned out to be concretely useful to the goal of preparation for combat cannot be established except in an indirect manner by reference to the worth frequently shown on the battlefield by the Italian communal infantry. The war games, it is true, were never imposed from above as a manifestation of public utility; rather, they appear to have been demanded from below, something the ruling class limited itself to tolerating and ameliorating abuses through regulation. It should be noted, however, that the prohibitions and the limitations, though ineffective for a long time, became ever more frequent from the fourteenth century on,116 just at the time when the military obligations of the citizens were almost everywhere being replaced by the hiring of mercenaries, so that the exigencies of training became in fact superfluous. Moreover, Opicino de Canistris, who certainly still thought of the Pavian battagliole as a useful preparation for war, called it by the name of “spectacle” (spectacula)117 thus underlining, unintentionally, the prevalence of the ludic intent over that of training: the ludic character quickly came to dominate any other and henceforth became the sole character of the games. At Perugia, at Venice, at Pisa and Bologna – where the games long survived – in the last centuries of the Middle Ages and the first of the modern era, they appear reduced to a pure spectacle although their violent character has not lessened. Thus they followed the same process as the knightly tournaments, also limited to demonstrations of sportive bravura.118 The Lucchese Pietro dei Faitinelli at the beginning of the fourteenth century harshly addresses the Florentines who, although excelling in games of arms, showed themselves to be unwarlike when faced with the army of Henry VII who besieged their city.

114

115

116

117 118

“Cedite mamma, precor, quid giovat tantum?/ Cedite, me lapidum crebram instigare bataium,/ Ut maiora feram posthac animositer arma.” Folengo, Baldus, note 44 above, bk. 3, lines 164–65, p. 85 [Mullaney trans., pp. 77, 79.]. See, for example, the texts collected in L’educazione humanistica in Italia, ed. Eugenio Garin (Bari, 1949), pp. 98–108, 163–64; Emilio Faccioli, “L’esperienza umanistica,” in Mantova. La storia, le lettere, le arti 2 (Mantua, 1962), p. 15; see also Aldo A. Settia, “‘De re militari’: cultura bellica nelle corti emiliane prima di Leonardo e di Machiavelli,” in Le sede della cultura nell’Emilia Romagna. L’epoca delle signorie. Le corti (Milan, 1985), pp. 65–6. This is what was observed, for example, by Ferdinando Gabotto, Gli esercizi fisici della gioventù nell’antico Piemonte (Carmagnola, 1904), p. 18, although it doubtless has a general value. See note 54 above. Contamine, La guerra nel medio evo, pp. 296–97.

24

Aldo A. Settia You – very bold to make a show with helmets and silvered crests – by such means you wanted to take the lion by holding a tournament inside Florence. … You used to dominate Tuscany, now, in arms you are not worth three florins except, of course, against the quintain.119

The same judgement is attributed to more than one illustrious personage who was present at the games still practiced at Siena and Venice; they appear too slight a thing to serve as preparation for war and, at the same time too violent to be a simple performance,120 a judgement that signaled their condemnation by that time on both the training and performance levels.

119

120

“Voi gite molto arditi a far la mostra/ con elmi e con cimiere inargentate/ e par che lo leon prender vogliate/ per Firenze entro quando fate giostra/ … Voi solevate soggiogar Toscana/ or non valete in arme tre fiorini/ se non a ben ferir per la quintana.” Poeti minori del Trecento, ed. Natalino Sapegno (Milan and Naples, 1952), p. 314. [Striking the quintain has sexual connotations; the sonnet thus implies that the Florentines are enthusiastic for battle only in tournaments and the bedroom.] For the events see Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4: 679–80. [William M. Bowsky, Henry VII in Italy; the Conflict of Empire and City-State, 1310–1313 (Lincoln, NE, 1960).] For Venice see the opinion attributed to Henry III of France who was present at the battagliola of 1574, Tamassi Mazzarotto, Le feste, p. 44; for Siena see the opinion of the Grand Duke Pietro Leopoldo (1765–90), Gerolamo Boccardo, Feste, giochi e spettacoli (Genoa, 1874), p. 133.

2 The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account Charles D. Stanton

On 18 June 1053 in the undulating open country of the Capitanata of northern Apulia, near an ancient Roman city which no longer exists, one of the most crucial battles of the Middle Ages was fought. At Civitate, a modest force of Norman adventurers faced a papal army of Germans, Italians and Lombards, perhaps twice its size. The outcome of that clash in what is today a sparsely populated region would profoundly influence the course of Mediterranean history for centuries to come. It is recorded in more than a score of contemporary sources. The most comprehensive accounts are provided by the three primary chroniclers of the Normans in the South: Amatus of Montecassino, Geoffrey Malaterra and, especially, William of Apulia. Their narratives are largely corroborated by the Swabian historian Herman of Reichenau, and the various biographers of Pope Leo IX.1 Yet the details of the event remain mired in myth. 1

Amatus of Montecassino, Storia de Normanni 3. 39, ed. V. de Bartholomaeis, Fonti per la storia d‘Italia [FSI] (Rome, 1935), pp. 152–54; Annales Beneventani, ed. G. Pertz, MGH SS 3: 173–85, especially anno 1053, pp. 179–80; Annales Casinenses, ed. G. Pertz MGH SS 19: 303–20, especially anno 1053, p. 306; Annales Cavenses, ed. G. Pertz , MGH, SS 3: 185–97, especially anno 1053/4, p. 189; Annales Romani, ed. G. Pertz, MGH SS 5:468–80, especially 470; Anonymi Barensis chronicon, ed. L. Muratori, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores [RIS] 5 (Milan, 1726),145–56, especially anno 1052, p. 152; Anonymi Historia Sicula a Normannis ad Petrum Aragonensem, ed. L. Muratori, RIS 8: 745–80, especially pp. 752–53; Bonizo of Sutri, Liber ad Amicum in Libelli de Lite Imperatorum et Pontificum, ed. E. Dümmler, 3 vols., MGH, 1: 568–620, especially p. 589; Bruno of Segni, Libellus de symoniacis in Libelli de Lite Imperatorum et Pontificum, ed. E. Sackur, 3 vols. MGH 2: 543–62, especially pp. 550–51; Chronica ignoti monachi S. Mariae de Ferraria, ed. L. Gaudenzi, Società Napolitana di Storia Patria Monumenti Storici, ser. 1: Cronache (Naples, 1888), p. 14; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2: 84, ed. H. Hoffmann, MGH SS: 34: 331–33; Chronicon Breve Nortmannicum, ed. L. Muratori, RIS 5: 278 anno 1053; Chronicon Vulturnense, ed. V. Federici, 3 vols. (Rome, 1925–38), 3: 85–8; Geoffrey Malaterra, De rebus gestis Rogerii Calabriae et Siciliae comitis et Roberti Guiscardi ducis fratris eius, 1.14, ed. E. Pontieri, RIS, 2nd ed. (Bologna, 1927–28), 5: 15; Herman of Reichenau, Chronicon, ed. G. Pertz, MGH SS 5: 67–133, especially pp. 132–33; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, ed. G. Pertz, MGH SS, 5: 51–63, especially anno 1053, p. 59; Regesta pontificum Romanorum ab condita ecclesia ad annum post Christum MCXCVIII, ed. P. Jaffé, S. Loewenfeld, F. Kaltenbrunner and P. Ewald, 10 vols., 2nd ed. (Leipzig, 1885–88), 4292, 4333; Romuald of Salerno, Romualdi Salernitani Chronicon, ed. C. Garufi, RIS 7: 181–82; Sigebert of Gembloux, Chronica, ed. D. Bethman, MGH SS 6: 268–374, especially anno 1050 on p. 359; A. Poncelet, ed., “Vie et miracles du pape S. Léon IX”, Analecta Bollandiana, 25 (1906), 258–97, especially, pp. 285–87; Vita Leonis IX papae,

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Although much has been written about the engagement, what actually happened has been obfuscated by legend, poetic license and outright partisan myth-making. Even Dante Alighieri reserved a few effusive lines of verse in his renowned La divina commedia to extol the exploits of one the battle’s epic heroes: “With those who felt the agony of blows by making counterstand to Robert Guiscard.”2 In the modern era, Sir Edward Gibbon’s account of the encounter in The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire is rather short and somewhat impaired by the pretentious prose of the era.3 Many early twentieth-century writers such as Francis Marion Crawford4 and James van Wycke Osborne5 were inclined toward a more romantic retelling of the tale and, hence, were guilty of suppositions unwarranted by the sources. More recently, John Julius Norwich’s highly readable rendition still contains descriptions bordering on the imaginative.6 While modern scholars like Ferdinand Chalandon,7 Graham Loud,8 Huguette Taviani-Carozzi9 and Richard Bünemann10 have provided reliable reconstructions of the battle, these have been in the course of more general discussions on the Normans in the South and have consequently been spare on some specifics of the confrontation. This paper is an effort to sift the facts from the known primary sources on the subject in order to fashion a plausible version of events. Background The Normans came to southern Italy initially as pilgrims attracted, in part, by the sanctuary of their favorite saint, the Archangel Michael, on Monte Gargano in northeastern Apulia. William of Apulia, a court chronicler commissioned by

2

3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, ed. J. Watterich, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1862), 1: 127–70, especially pp. 163–66; “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” in Memorie Istoriche della Pontificia città di Benevento, ed. S. Borgia, 3 vols. (Rome, 1764), 2: 299–343, especially pp. 319–22; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 82–266, trans. M. Mathieu (Palermo, 1961), pp. 138–46. This list is by no means exhaustive. Dante Alighieri, La divinia commedia, cantica inferno, ed. Giorgio Petrocchi (Milan, 1966– 67), canto XXVIII, ll. 13–14. “Con quella che sentio di colpi doglie per contastare a Ruberto Guiscardo …”, trans. Robert and Jean Hollander, Inferno (New York and London, 2000) as “together with the ones who felt the agony of blows fighting in the fields against Guiscard.” Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 6 vols. (London, 1776–89, 1994 repr.), 5: 616–61. Francis Crawford, The Rulers of the South, 2 vols. (New York, 1900), 1: 171–81. James Osborne, The Greatest Norman Conquest (New York, 1937), pp. 110–38. John Julius Norwich, The Normans in the South, 1016–1130 (London, 1967), pp. 80–96. Ferdinand Chalandon, Histoire de la domination Normande en Italie et en Sicile, 2 vols. (Paris, 1907), 1: 122–42. G. A. Loud, The Age of Robert Guiscard: Southern Italy and the Norman Conquest (Harlow, 2000), pp. 110–20. Huguette Taviani-Carozzi, La terreur du monde, Robert Guiscard et la conquête normande en Italie (Paris, 1996), pp. 192–212. Richard Bünemann, Robert Guiskard 1015–1085, Ein Normanne erobert Süditalien (Cologne, 1997), pp. 20–4.



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Guiscard’s son Roger Borsa, describes a chance meeting there in 1016 between a handful of Norman pilgrims and a Lombard partisan named Melus who attempted to recruit them for his rebellion against Byzantine rule in the region.11 Amatus, a monk of Montecassino whose Historia Normannorum primarily extols the deeds of its Norman benefactors (Robert Guiscard and Richard of Capua), tells of a band of forty such Norman pilgrims who succored the citizens of Salerno from “Saracen” raiders at about the same time.12 Regardless of the truth of either tradition, the Normans indeed began migrating into southern Italy in significant enough numbers at the beginning of the eleventh century to participate in Melus’s ill-fated revolt against Constantinople. As a consequence, the Normans shared Melus’s defeat in 1018 at the hands of the Byzantine catepan (provincial governor), Basil Boiannes, at Cannae (10 kilometers southwest of Barletta, also in Apulia)13 – exactly where Hannibal had crushed the Roman army in 216 B.C.14 Nonetheless, the wealth of the South had been revealed and Norman knights, influenced to some extent by the dictates of primogeniture, began flowing into the region in ever-increasing numbers, hiring their swords out initially to the competing Lombard lords of Campania. One of them, Rainulf Drengot, won control of Aversa in 1031.15 Soon after, the first of the predatory offspring of Tancred de Hauteville – William, Drogo and Humphrey – came seeking their fortune. They initially found employment with Guaimar IV, the Lombard prince of Salerno, who promptly loaned them out along with three hundred of their Norman compadres to the renowned Byzantine general, Giorgios Maniakes, for the latter’s ill-fated invasion of Sicily in 1038.16 In the course of the campaign, the Norman contingent apparently served in the vanguard of the cavalry and William, its nominal commander, distinguished himself in single combat with the caid (Muslim military governor) of Syracuse, earning himself the sobriquet “Iron-Arm.”17 Disgruntled over perceived inequitable treatment by Maniakes, the Normans returned to the mainland in 1041 and established themselves at Melfi (in the Basilicata).18 They soon launched the inexorable rise of the Hauteville family to prominence 11 12

13 14 15 16

17 18

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 1–28. Amatus of Montecassino, The History of the Normans, trans. Prescott Dunbar (Woodbridge, 2004), Bk. 1, ch. 17–19, pp. 49–50; Storia de Normanni, 1. 17–19, pp. 21–4; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2.37, pp. 236–37. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 37, pp. 239–40; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1019, p. 57; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 91–4, pp. 104–05. Adrian Goldsworthy, The Complete Roman Army (London, 2003), pp. 40–1. Amatus, History of the Normans, 1. 42, p. 60; Storia de Normanni, 1. 42, pp. 53–4; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 170–74, pp. 108–09. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 8, p. 66; Storia de Normanni, 2. 8, p. 68; Geoffrey Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger of Calabria and Sicily and of his brother Duke Robert Guiscard, 1.7, trans. Kenneth Wolf (Ann Arbor, MI, 2005), pp. 55–6; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 7, pp. 10–11. Contrary to Amatus, Malaterra indicates that Humphrey had not, as yet, migrated from Normandy, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 9, p. 58; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 9, p. 12. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 7, p. 56; De rebus gestis Rogerii,1. 7, p. 11. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 15–19, pp. 669–70; Storia de Normanni, 2. 15–19, pp.

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in the region by electing William Iron-Arm as their “count.”19 Under his leadership, the Normans of Melfi prosecuted several successful campaigns against the Byzantines of Apulia, most notably achieving two resounding victories over the Catepan Michael Dokeianos in 1041: one in March at the River Olivento a few kilometers north of Venosa and another in May at Cannae, avenging the ignominious defeat of 1018.20 During this period the irrepressible Normans apportioned several of the towns in the region among twelve of the more prominent nobles,21 but William seems to have retained overall authority in Apulia. When he succumbed to fever around 1045, Amatus says he “was succeeded by his brother Drogo who was made count of Apulia.”22 At about the same time, Rainulf of Aversa passed away and was replaced by his brother’s son, Asclettin, who also died shortly afterwards leaving the county to Rainulf Trincanocte, another nephew.23 Within a year, two of the most prominent players in the Norman conquest of southern Italy arrived from Normandy, Richard Quarrel and Robert de Hauteville.24 Richard would eventually claim control of the principality of Capua, while Robert would ultimately rise to become duke of Apulia. Portents As the Normans grew in numbers and confidence, they became more rapacious and acquisitive. Their increased ravaging of the region quickly drew the enmity of the local populace which soon sought external intervention. More crucially, their aggressive actions in Apulia, Campania and Calabria provoked growing concern among the great powers of the era: the Holy Roman Empire, the Byzantine Empire and the papacy. All three considered southern Italy within their respective spheres of influence. In Apulia, for instance, Drogo and his brother Humphrey strove to capture the ancient Byzantine theme (province) town by

19 20

21 22

23 24

73–8; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 8–9, pp. 56–7; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 8–9, pp. 11–12; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1, ll. 196–245. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 29, p. 76; Storia de Normanni, 2. 29, pp. 93–4; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1042, p. 58. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 21–3, pp. 71–3; Storia de Normanni, 2. 21–3, pp. 79–83; Annales Barenses, anno 1041, pp. 53–4; Anonymi Barensis, anno 1041, p. 149; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1041, p. 58; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 9–10, pp. 57–9; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 9–10, pp. 11–12; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 254–304, pp. 112–15; John Skylitzes, A Synopsis of Byzantine History 811–1057, trans. John Wortley (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 400–01. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 31, p. 77; Storia de Normanni, 2. 31, pp. 95–6; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 232–39, pp. 110–13. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 35, p. 79; Storia de Normanni, 2. 35, p. 101. “Et à lui succedi son frere, liquel se clamoit Drogo; et fu fait conte de Puille.” Malaterra confirms this, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 12, p. 60; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 12, p. 14. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 32, 34 and 39, pp. 79–78, 82; Storia de Normanni, 2. 32, 34 and 39, pp. 97–9, 106. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 44 and 46, pp. 84–5; Storia de Normanni, 2. 44 and 46, pp. 110–12.



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town. Geoffrey Malaterra, a Benedictine monk in the abbey of Saint Agata of Catania whose primary patron was Roger de Hauteville, recorded the Norman modus operandi in the province: “For afflicting the Greeks with frequent raids throughout the surrounding countryside, the Normans tore up the vines and olive trees and seized the cattle and sheep and the rest of things that they needed, thus leaving nothing in the vicinity of the Greek fortress.”25 In response, the Emperor Constantine IX Monomachos appointed as catepan Argyros, son of Melus, who ironically had devoted his life to freeing the land from Byzantine bonds, and dispatched him to Apulia to counter the Norman offensive. Daunted by the martial prowess of the Normans, the Byzantine basileus (sovereign), according to William of Apulia, first “ordered Argyros to bring them great sums of money, silver, precious vestments and gold, that the Normans might be persuaded to leave the frontiers of Italy, hasten across the sea and mightily enrich themselves in imperial service,”26 but the Normans “replied that they would not leave Apulia until they had conquered it.”27 The newly appointed Byzantine catepan then resorted to cobbling together a coalition of anti-Norman complainants. William of Apulia says, “Argyros sent emissaries to the pope,” whom he knew to be in receipt of numerous grievances about the depredations of these northern freebooters.28 The pontiff at that time was Leo IX, hand-picked for the Holy See by his cousin, the Western Emperor Henry III, who had appointed the previous two popes as well. It was apparently one of the methods he employed for influencing what he considered to be his southern domains.29 At the Synod of Sutri at Christmas 1046, the German monarch had deposed, according to Amatus, “three unlawful popes” (Benedict IX, Sylvester III and Gregory VI) and replaced them with Suidger, bishop of Bamberg, whose very first act as Pope Clement II was to crown Henry Holy Roman Emperor.30 On the same Italian expedition, the newly-minted emperor sought to recruit the Normans as his armed proxies in the south by confirming Rainulf (II) Trincanocte, nephew of Rainulf I, as lord of Aversa and Drogo as count of Apulia.31 His tacit intention seems to have been 25

26

27 28 29 30

31

Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 10, p. 59; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 10, p. 13. “Nam crebis incursionibus eos lacessentes, vineta et oliveta eorum extirpabant, armenta et pecora et caetera, quae ad usum necessaria sunt, nihil extra castra relinquentes, diripiebant.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 46–50, pp. 134–135. “Traditur Argiroo portanda pecunia multa, argenti multum pretiosaque vestis et aurum, ut sic Normanni fallantur, et egredientes finibus Hesperiae, prospere mare transgrediantur.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 63–4, pp. 134–35. “Et dimissuros loca se non Apulia dicunt dum conquirantur.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 70–1, pp. 134–37. “Nuntia mittit Argirous papae.” I. Robinson, The Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century (Manchester, 2004), p. 5. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 1, p. 87; Storia de Normanni, 3. 1, p. 116. “… injustement troiz papes ...” Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 77, pp. 320–22; Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, in Eleventh-Century Germany, The Swabian Chronicles, trans. I. Robinson (Manchester, 2008), anno 1046/1047, pp. 79–80; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1046, pp. 126–27. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 2, p. 87; Storia de Normanni, 3. 2, p. 117.

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to empower the Normans to punish recalcitrant principalities such as Benevento which had rebelled against his authority.32 It was to be a force that could not be controlled. Nine months after his installation as pope, Clement expired (October 1047) and in December Henry appointed Poppo, bishop of Brixen, to become Damasus II. He lasted only until the following August when he died. That December an assembly at Worms controlled by the emperor selected as papal successor Bruno, bishop of Toul, who later assumed the appellation Leo IX.33 As one of the first great reforming popes, Leo IX had set his sights on the eradi­cation of simony (the buying and selling of benefices and ecclesiastical offices),34 but the Norman problem quickly and brutally intervened. Tales of Norman excesses throughout the region soon began to reach the pontiff’s ears. The anonymous author of the eleventh-century Vita Leonis IX papae, probably a Lotharingian monk from the diocese of Toul,35 melodramatically recounts that the pope “was moved by a generous compassion for the unheard of afflictions of the people of Apulia” who were subject to “the extreme savagery and fury of the Normans.”36 The havoc wreaked by the Normans was by no means limited to Apulia. John, abbot of Fécamp, who was reportedly assaulted and robbed in papal territory, wrote to the pope that the local inhabitants had come to abhor the Normans to such a degree that the latter could hardly travel the land without being accosted.37 Graham Loud describes the utterly ruthless methods employed by the Hautevilles in Calabria: Norman tactics, directed above all at securing the surrender of towns and strongpoints by destroying the crops and livelihoods of the inhabitants, were especially effective in a mountainous region where cultivatable land was limited, and thus easily targeted. Furthermore, vines and the trees which supported them, and the olive and mulberry trees of southern Calabria, made communities which depended on them especially vulnerable, since once cut down they would take years to regrow or be replaced from cuttings.38

The Swabian chronicler, Herman of Reichenau, sums up Norman conduct in the South: After very many of them hastened to the fertile land and their strength increased, they made war on the natives themselves and oppressed them; they usurped for themselves

32 33 34

35 36 37 38

Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1047, p. 80; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1046, p. 127. Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1047–1049, pp. 83–5; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1047– 1049, pp. 127–28. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 15, p. 91; Storia de Normanni, 3. 15, pp. 128–30; Vita Leonis IX papae, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 2.4. ed. J. Watterich, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1862), 1: 154; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 10, in Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, p. 136. Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, pp. 22–4. Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 10, p. 163; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 20, p. 149. “… ac clementi condolens affectu inauditae afflictioni Apuliae gentis ... Normannorum saevissimum …” PL, 143, col. 798–99. Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 126.



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an unjust dominion; they snatched by force from the lawful heirs their castles, estates, villages, houses, even their wives, according to their will; they plundered the property of churches; finally they threw into confusion, as far as their strength enabled them, all the divine and human laws and indeed they submitted neither to the pope nor to the emperor, merely paying lip-service to them.39

Amatus indicates that Leo IX first attempted to modify the behavior of the Normans by appealing to them directly: “Then he went to Melfi to oppose the acts of the most mighty Normans, and begged them to abandon their cruelty and injuries to the poor.”40 It appears that this plea fell upon deaf ears, and the depredations continued unabated. Leo’s Lotharingian biographer called the Apulian Normans “savage tyrants and ravagers of the territory,”41 an observation echoed by the Italo-Norman sources. In fact, land considered to be within the papal patrimony began to be threatened, drawing increased apprehension from the Apostolic See. The Normans had begun encroaching upon Benevento, apparently encouraged by Henry III who, according to the Annales Beneventani, had in 1047 caused Clement II to excommunicate the townspeople for their refusal to submit to him and had even set fire to the city’s suburbs.42 Herman of Reichenau says Leo IX excommunicated the Beneventans again in the spring of 1050 for their continued rebellion against imperial authority.43 The Normans quite understandably viewed all this as an invitation to ravage the environs at will, which they did. Subsequently, both Amatus and the Annales Beneventani record that the citizens of the city expelled their prince (Pandulf III) and dispatched a delegation to Leo IX in 1051 to seek papal protection.44 Pope Leo journeyed to Benevento in July and accepted its fealty. In return, he summoned Drogo as the most prominent leader among the Normans and Guaimar IV as their primary patron to Benevento and “told them to give orders that the citizens of Benevento were not to be harmed or troubled.”45 This evidently was to no avail.46 39

40

41 42 43 44 45 46

Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 94; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132. “Postea vero pluribus eorum ad uberem terram accurrentibus, viribus adaucti, ipsos indigetes bello premere, iniustum dominatum invadere, heredibus legitimis castella, praedia, villas, domos, uxorem etiam quibus libuit vi auferre, res aecclesiarum diripere, postremo divina et humana omnia, prout viribus plus poterant, iura confundere, nec iam apostolico pontifici, nec ipsi imperatori, nisi tantum verbotenus cedere.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 16, p. 91; Storia de Normanni, 3.16, p. 130. “Et puiz s’en ala à Melfe opponere contre li fait de li fortissime Normant. Et lor proï qu’il se deüissent partir de la crudelité, et laisser la moleste de li povre.” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 6, p. 158; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 14, p. 141. “... saevissimos tyrannos ac patraie vastatores ...” Annales Beneventani, anno 1047, p. 179. “Heinricus rex, filius Chuonardi, cum papa Clemente venit supra Beneventum, urbem excommunicavit, suburbium arsit.” Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1050, p. 87; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1050, p. 129. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 17, p. 92; Storia de Normanni, 3. 17, pp. 131–32; Annales Beneventani, anno 1051, p. 179. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 17, p. 92; Storia de Normanni,3. 17, p. 132. “… les enforma qu’il doient ordener que cil de la cité non soient gravé né afflit.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 18, p. 92; Storia de Normanni, 3. 18, p. 133.

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The pope may have held some faint hope at this point that Drogo and Guaimar would successfully rein in their obstreperous cohorts, but events intervened in rapid succession, precluding that possibility. First, Drogo was assassinated at Montellaro, near Bovino, on the feast of Saint Lawrence (10 August) in 1051.47 Some, like Ferdinand Chalandon and John Julius Norwich, have surmised that the Byzantine faction of Argyros was behind the murder,48 but in all probability the cause was what Malaterra had outlined: enmity among the local Lombard population for the Normans. “The Lombards of Apulia, always a perfidious people, secretly conspired to commit an act of treason whereby the Normans throughout Apulia would be killed on the same day,” claims Malaterra.49 Both he and Anonymus Vaticanus (probably a chronicler in the court of King Roger II) identify the killer as a certain Riso, a “compater” (“godfather”),50 meaning he was likely a Lombard relative since Drogo was married to Gaitelgrima, the daughter of Guaimar IV of Salerno.51 Indeed, many other Normans met a similar fate at the same time, doubtless in retribution for wanton Norman ravaging.52 Humphrey soon assumed his brother’s mantle of power and promptly meted out retaliation.53 “He mercilessly punished all those who took part; some were mutilated, others were put to the sword, many were hung,” recounts William of Apulia grimly.54 Such actions must have only exacerbated the contentious circumstances. Papal Mobilization Malaterra reports that envoys were secretly sent to the pope, “inviting him to come to Apulia with an army.”55 He does not specify who dispatched these emissaries, but William of Apulia does: the Byzantine catepan Argyros, who 47

48 49

50

51 52 53

54 55

Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 19, p. 92; Storia de Normanni, 3. 19, p. 133; Annales Beneventani, anno 1051, p. 179; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1051, p. 59; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 13, pp. 60–1; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 13, p. 14; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 75–80, pp. 136–37. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination Normande en Italie, 1: 129; Norwich, Normans in the South, p. 84. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 13, p. 60; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 13, p. 14. “Longobardi igitur Apulienses, genus semper perfidissimum, traditionem per universam Apuliam silenter ordinant, ut omnes Normanni una die occiderenter.” Anonymi Historia Sicula, col. 752; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 13, pp. 60–61; De rebus gestis Rogerii, Bk. 1. 13, pp. 14–15. Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1051, p. 59, also uses the term “compatre” (“godfather”) to describe the assassin. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 35, p. 80 and n. 62; Storia de Normanni, 2. 35, p. 102. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 13, p. 61; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 13, p. 15. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 22, p. 92; Storia de Normanni, 3. 22, pp. 136–37; Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1051, p. 59; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 13, p. 61; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 13, p. 15. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 288–90, pp. 148–49. “Funesto cunctos fuerant qui participati consilio punit; hos truncat, perfodit illos, multos suspendit.” Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, p. 61; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 14, p. 15. “… per occultos legatos nonum Leonem apostolicum, ut in apuliam cum exercitu veniat, invitant …”



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proposed military action against the Normans.56 They apparently found a receptive audience, because soon afterwards, in the early spring of 1052, Leo was reported to have petitioned both the German emperor and the king of France to aid him in effecting “the ruin and dispersal of the Normans.”57 Distracted by other concerns closer to home, both declined. The papal entourage then sought to muster a local force for the purpose. Amatus contends that Frederick of Lorraine, Leo’s chancellor, began a call to arms with the pronouncement: “Even if I had only a hundred effeminate knights, I would fight against all the Norman knights.”58 Supposedly, men from Marsia, the March of Ancona, Gaeta and Valva all responded eagerly, until the recruitment drive was cut short by a dire warning from the Normans’ foremost sponsor in the region, the prince of Salerno: “O wretches, you will be meat for these devouring lions, for when you feel their claws, you will know what force and power are in them.”59 At the same time, Guaimar IV sent unmistakable word that he “would not consent to the destruction of the Normans since he had spent much time bringing them [there], had hired them at great expense, and considered them an inestimable treasure.”60 Not only would the powerful Lombard lord abstain from joining the anti-Norman league, he would actively oppose it. Predictably, enthusiasm among the ItaloLombard volunteers quickly waned and the potential papal army dissipated.61 A few months later, on 3 June 1052, however, the final impediment to papal military intervention in the South was removed. Guaimar IV of Salerno was assassinated, a victim of family intrigue: his wife’s four brothers had conspired with the ringleaders of an Amalfitan revolt. The Normans quickly avenged the murder and elevated Guaimar’s son, Gisulf II, to prince, but the latter evidently remained neutral in the coming confrontation with the pope’s minions.62 Leo IX wasted little time. By Christmas 1052, the pope was in Worms at the emperor’s side, forcefully laying out the case for military action against the Normans. His entreaties must have been efficacious, because not only did Henry III cede control of Benevento along with other sites in southern Italy to the Holy See, Herman of Reichenau reports, “After the pope had made many 56 57 58 59

60

61 62

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 71–4, pp. 136–37. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 23, p. 94; Storia de Normanni, 3. ch. 23, p. 138. “… la confusion et la dispersion de li Normant.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 24, p. 94; Storia de Normanni, 3. 24, p. 140. “Se je avisse cent chevaliers effeminat, je combatteroie contre tuit li chevalier de Normandie.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 24–5, pp. 94–5; Storia de Normanni, 3. 24–5, pp. 140–41. “O triste, vous serez viande de li devorator lion, liquel, quant vouz tocheront o alcune moziche, vous saurez quel force et quel vertu il y a en eauz!” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 25, p. 95; Storia de Normanni, 3. 25, p. 140. “… lo Prince de Salerne non se vouloit consentir à la destruction de li Normant, car il avoit mis grant temps à les assembler, et les avoit rachatez de molt monoie, et les tenoit coment pretiouz tresor.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 25, p. 95; Storia de Normanni, 3. 25, p. 141. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 26–34, pp. 95–8; Storia de Normanni, 3. 26–34, pp. 141–49; Annales Beneventani, anno 1052, p. 179; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 82, p. 229; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 75–8, pp. 136–37. See also Bünemann, Robert Guiskard, p. 20; Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 117.

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complaints about the acts of violence and injuries perpetrated by the Normans, who held the property of St. Peter by force against his will, the emperor assigned a military force to help him to expel them from there.”63 The Chronicle of Montecassino corroborates all of this, but subsequently recounts how Henry’s counselor, Bishop Gephard of Eichstät, “approached the emperor, vehemently opposing him in this matter, and he cunningly had the whole army recalled.”64 As a consequence, Pope Leo brought back with him from Germany only a few hundred Swabian mercenaries which he and his advisors had personally procured along with what Herman of Reichenau characterized as “shameless rogues, driven from the fatherland because of their various offenses.”65 The success of the recruiting effort depends on the source. Herman of Reichenau says “very many Germans” accompanied the pontiff on his journey south,66 but Amatus puts the number at just 300.67 The Chronicle of Montecassino attests that 500 were enlisted for the enterprise from friends and relatives.68 William of Apulia, who provides the most detailed account of the engagement, initially contends that the pope was “supported by innumerable Swabians and Germans,” but later refines that estimate to “700 Swabians” under the command of two nobles named Werner and Albert.69 It suffices to say that Leo returned to Rome in the early spring of 1053 with at least several hundred Teutonic warriors of varying ability in tow. According to Herman of Reichenau, among others, Pope Leo remained in Rome until after Easter when he held a synod, then in May proceeded first to Montecassino and then on to Benevento, attracting local Lombard nobles to his cause along the way.70 Troops came from as far away as Fermo and Ancona on the Adriatic coast as well as Spoleto, the environs of Rome, the principality of Capua and from Benevento itself. Prominent Lombard leaders included Duke Atenulf of Gaeta, Count Lando of Aquino, Count Landulf of Teano, Roffred of Guardia, Roffred of Lusenza and Malfredus of Campomarino along with 63

64

65 66 67 68 69

70

Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 94; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132. “Cumque idem papa de Nordmannorum violentiis et iniuriis, qui res sancti Petri se invito vi tenebant, multa conquestus esset, ad hos etiam ende propulsandos imperator ei auxilia delegavit.” Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 46, p. 254 and ch. 81, pp. 228–29. “ad imperatorem accedens, vehementerque super hoc illum redarguens, ut totus exercitus eius reverteretur dolosus effecit …” Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 94; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132. “multi etiam scelerati et protervi, diversasque ob noxas patria pulsi.” Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 94; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132. “plurimi Theutonicorum …” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 37, p. 99; Storia de Normanni, 3. 37, pp. 150–51. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 81, p. 229. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 83–4, pp. 136–37and ll. 151–53, pp. 140–41. “… Alemannis innumeris et Teutonicis …” “… Guarnerus Teutonicorum Albertusque duces non adduxere Suevos plus septingentos …” Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 84, pp. 331–32; Chronicon Vulturnense, 3: 85; Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, pp. 94–5; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132.



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the brothers Trasmund and Atto (the counts of Chieti) and the Borell family of the Sangro Valley in the Abruzzi.71 Amatus of Montecassino claims that the pope made a certain Robert Octomarset the “standard bearer of Civitate and the battle,”72 but it is not clear what was meant by this, nor is this personage attested elsewhere. Popular modern accounts of the battle, like that of Filippo Donvito in the journal Medieval Warfare, estimate the total number of papal troops at around six thousand,73 but this is purely conjecture. No contemporary source offers a precise figure. Amatus says only that “the pope and his knights had hopes of winning the battle because of their great numbers,”74 while William of Apulia characterizes the papal army as “a large force of Italians, supported by innumerable Swabians and Germans.”75 It has been assumed that the papal forces were much larger than the numbers the Normans could bring to bear, because of statements like that of William of Apulia in which he notes the Normans “were seen as inferior in number and in strength.”76 Although his claim is considered less credible, Herman of Reichenau even asserts that it was the Normans who “were far superior in numbers.”77 In a letter to Constantine Monomachos, Leo IX clearly establishes that his intention was to effect a link up with Argyros: “Supported therefore, by such forces as the limited time and the present emergency permitted, I decided to seek conference and counsel of your most faithful man, the glorious duke and commander Argyros.”78 The Annales Beneventani confirms the plan was to rendezvous with the catepan in Apulia,79 while the route taken by the pope’s legions more specifically suggests somewhere in the Capitanata (northern Apulia). The pope’s anonymous Benevenetan biographer implies that the

71 72 73 74 75

76 77 78

79

Chronicon Vulturnense, 3: 86–7; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 149–74, pp. 140–41. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 29, p. 153. “gofanonier de la Cité et de la bataille Robert, loquel se clamoit de Octomarset.” P. Donvito, “The Norman Challenge to the Pope: The Battle of Civitate, June 18, 1053,” Medieval Warfare, 1 (2011), 27–34, especially 28. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 39, p. 153. “Et lo Pape et li chevalier avoient esperance de veinchre pour la multitude de lo pueple.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 82–4, pp. 136–37. “Advenisse quidem Latii cum milite multo audierant papam, comitantibus hunc Alemannis Innumeris et Teutonicis …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 96–7, pp. 136–37. “esse videbantur … utpote nec numero populi nec viribus aequi.” Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 95; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132. “illi, quia numero longe praestabant …” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 10, p. 164; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 20, p. 150. “Suffultus ergo comitatu, qualem temporis brevitas et imminens necessitas permisit, gloriosi ducis et magistri Argyrii fidelissimi tui colloquium et consilium expetendum censui.” Annales Beneventani, anno 1053, pp. 179–80.

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rallying point was Siponto (less than two kilometers south of modern Manfredonia) at the southern base of the Gargano Promontory.80 Norman Mobilization Meanwhile the Normans cannot have been oblivious to the papal purpose. The pope’s efforts to recruit allies from among the Italo-Lombards would have assuredly alerted them. Moreover, they were quite probably aware that Argyros intended to join forces with the pope against them. Humphrey had assumed Drogo’s role as count of Apulia and, thus, would have kept a close watch on the Byzantine catepan, especially after the latter’s attempt to buy them off at the behest of Eastern Emperor. And, in all likelihood, he had spies in Bari who could have informed him of the catepan’s plans, for there was a Norman faction in the city which was, for a time, powerful enough to refuse Argyros entry into Bari when he first arrived as “dux Italiae” from Constantinople in March 1051.81 In any case, enmity for Argyros ran deep among the Normans. A decade before, they had elected this son of Melus as their leader, according to Amatus, but he had defected to the Byzantines at the siege of Trani in July 1042. Peter Amicus, in particular, bore him ill-will and threatened to kill him.82 This was probably because Peter had had a vested interest in Trani’s capture: it had been allotted to him at the apportionment of Apulia by the Normans in the autumn of 1042.83 Chalandon even contends that the Normans defeated Argyros at Taranto and Crotone in 1052, but this supposition is based upon the Chronicon Breve Nortmannicum,84 which may be an eighteenth-century forgery, according to André Jacob and Graham Loud.85 Besides, it would have made little sense for Argyros to have sought an alliance with the pope only to engage the powerful Normans alone on the eve of combining forces. Far more credible is the account rendered by the Anonymi Barensis Chronicon, an anonymous set of annals from Bari dating from 860 to 1118, which describes an encounter between Argyros and the Normans at Siponto. It notes that the catepan sailed to Siponto where Humphrey and Peter Amicus intercepted him and slaughtered his army of Lombards, after which “the wounded and half-dead

80 81 82

83 84 85

“Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” in Memorie Istoriche della Pontificia città di Benevento, 2: 318. Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1051, p. 59. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 28, p. 75; Storia de Normanni, 2. 28, pp. 91–3; Annales Barenses MGH SS 5: 51–6, especially 56; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 478–85, pp. 124–25. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 31, p. 77; Storia de Normanni, 2. 31, p. 96. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination Normande en Italie, 1: 134 and note 5; Chronicon Breve Nortmannicum, anno 1052, p. 278. A. Jacob, “Le Breve Chronicon Nortmannicum: a veritable faux de Pietro Polidori,” Quellen und forschungen aus Italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 66 (1986), 378–92; Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 131 .



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Argyros” fled to Vieste on the tip of the Gargano peninsula.86 The entry is for 1052, the year prior to the battle of Civitate, but the defeat of Leo IX’s army by the Normans is described immediately afterwards in the same year. The anonymous Barese chronicler obviously considered the two events as having occurred one after the other. He simply got the date wrong. If such is the case, then the logical deduction is that Argyros made the journey from Bari to Siponto in an effort to make his prearranged rendezvous with Pope Leo IX. He probably elected to go by ship so as to avoid a premature engagement with the Normans who dominated the hinterland. Humphrey, who was probably already aware of the planned pincer strategy, was likely alerted to the movement of Argyros’ fleet by Peter Amicus. Although the latter had not been able to take Trani by this time, he held the ports of Barletta to the north and Bisceglie to the south.87 Peter’s people would have been able to spot the Barese ships from the shore as they sailed north, since medieval galleys usually sailed within sight of land for navigation purposes.88 Thus, he and Humphrey may have been waiting for Argyros on the beach at Siponto. Such a turn of events would explain why the catepan never effected his join-up with the papal army and why, in fact, nothing is heard from Argyros until he is noted leaving Bari for Constantinople in 1055, never to return.89 By this time Humphrey must certainly have assumed that a confrontation with papal forces was imminent and that marshaling all available Norman troops was imperative. Naturally, he summoned his younger brother, Robert,90 whom Drogo had installed in Calabria, first at Scribla and later at San Marco Argentano.91 It is not known precisely how many troops Robert brought with him, but there were at least two hundred Norman knights provided to him by Gerard of Buonalbergo as part of the dowry that came with Gerard’s aunt, Alberada, Robert’s first wife. According to Amatus, it was also Gerard who gave Robert the sobriquet “Guiscard”, meaning “the cunning” in Old French, in honor of his reputation for resourcefulness as leader of a band of brigands when he first arrived in hardscrabble Calabria.92 In addition, it is probable that a contingent

86 87 88 89 90 91

92

Anonymi Barensis chronicon, anno 1052, p. 152. “Ipse Argiro semivivus exiliit plagatus …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 29–31, pp. 132–33. C. Stanton, Norman Naval Operations in the Mediterranean (Woodbridge, 2011), p. 3. Anonymi Barensis chronicon, anno 1055, p. 152; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 267–76, pp. 146–47. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 126–28, pp. 138–39. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 7, p. 88; Storia de Normanni, 3. 7, pp. 120–21; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 12, p. 60 and 1. 16, pp. 62–3; De rebus gestis Rogerii,1. 12, p. 14 and 1. 16, p. 16. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 10–11, pp. 88–9; Storia de Normanni, 3. 10–11, pp. 122–26. “Guiscard” (“the cunning”) is derived from the Old French word guischart, meaning “cunning, sly, crafty”. A. Hindley, F. Langley and B. Levy, Old French-English Dictionary (Cambridge, 2000), p. 355.

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of Slavs, which Robert had recruited into his entourage early on, accompanied him as light infantry.93 Humphrey also called upon Richard Quarrel, for the latter had recently been chosen as count of Aversa following the demise of Rainulf (II) Trincanocte. Competitive enmity had been shared by the two families (Drogo had even imprisoned Richard briefly prior to the latter’s ascendance to count), but the survival of all the Normans in southern Italy was now at stake.94 Besides, Richard possessed a personal interest in the region: his uncle Rainulf had been allocated Siponto and Monte Gargano by the Apulian Normans in the fall of 1042.95 As successor to Rainulf, he would have inherited that claim in the Capitanata. Richard would not have hesitated to join the fray and the forces that he had to offer would have been formidable. Aversa, ever since it had been awarded to Richard’s uncle Rainulf by Guaimar IV of Salerno in 1031,96 had become the primary base for the Normans of Campania and Campania had been the first destination of Norman knights migrating from northern France since the beginning of the eleventh century. Moreover, Humphrey could count several battle-tested veterans within his own ranks. Many like, the Amicus brothers, Walter and Peter, had fought by his side in Apulia since the early 1040s when the Normans first seized Melfi and made it their base in the Basilicata.97 One, Hugh Toutebove,98 prior to the Battle of Olivento on 17 March 1041, famously struck the horse of a Byzantine emissary “on the neck with his bare fist, knocking it senseless to the ground with a single blow.”99 The Normans decisively won the subsequent engagement against numerically superior forces and the two encounters which followed.100 In other words, the Normans were a battle-hardened bunch, not accustomed to either surrender or defeat. Many of them had known each other for a long time and were comfortable fighting in compact cavalry units under the leadership of their

93 94 95 96 97

98 99

100

Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 16, pp. 62–3; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 16, p. 16. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 12, p. 90; Storia de Normanni, 3. 12, pp. 126–27; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 123–25, pp. 138–39. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 30, p. 76; Storia de Normanni, 2. 30, p. 95. Amatus, History of the Normans, 1. 42, p. 60; Storia de Normanni, 1. 42, pp. 53–4; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. 170–74, pp. 108–09. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 28, p. 75 and 2. 31, p. 77; Storia de Normanni, 2. 28, p. 93 and 2. 31, pp. 95–6; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 27–31, pp. 132–33 and ll. 131–32, pp. 138–39. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 131–33, pp. 138–39. See also TavianiCarozzi, La terreur du monde, Robert Guiscard, p. 205. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 9, p. 57; De rebus gestis Rogerii,1. 9, p. 12. “quidam normannus, Ugo, cognomento Tudebusem, equum manu attrectare coepit: et, ut mirabile aliquid de se sociisque suis, unde terrerentur, Graecis nunciaretur, nudo pugno equum in cervice percutiens …” Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 21–6, pp. 71–4; Storia de Normanni, 2. 21–6, pp. 79–90; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 9–10, pp. 57–9; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 9–10, pp. 12–13; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 1. ll. 254–307, pp. 112–15.



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respective lords.101 In all, William of Apulia estimates that the three companies of Normans amounted to “three thousand horsemen and a few infantry.”102 Robert Bünemann considers even that number too high, pointing to the possibility that William of Conqueror himself probably had only two thousand cavalry at most at Hastings.103 Whatever their actual number, chronicle evidence suggests the Normans were far fewer than the forces arrayed against them. Armageddon The Chronicon Vulturnense suggests that the papal army took a somewhat circuitous route from Benevento to Apulia. The early twelfth-century chronicle of the monastery of San Vincenzo al Volturno says it went by way the Biferno Valley, camping on the river at a place called Sale,104 which Michele Fuiano speculates may have been in the vicinity of present-day Guardialfiera.105 This means the pope’s men probably marched northward from Benevento, skirting the Monti del Matese, to join the Biferno, probably in the neighborhood of Boiano,106 before continuing northeast to the far end of Lago del Liscione. This elliptical itinerary was doubtless chosen to avoid Norman-controlled territory. The more direct track went by way of a pass through the Monti della Daunia dominated by the Norman-held fortress of Bovino, captured by Drogo in 1045.107 Some, like Ferdinand Chalandon, would include the nearby fortified city of Troia as a potential obstacle,108 but the inhabitants of that town did not began paying tribute to the Normans until after Civitate109 and it was not captured by Robert Guiscard until 1060.110 From Sale, the papal troops probably forded the Biferno and finally headed east along the Via Traiana-Frentana, an ancient Roman road, through the area of Larino to cross the River Fortore at the Ponte di Civitate (Bridge of Civitate). [See Map 1]

101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110

R. A. Brown, The Normans (Woodbridge, 1984), p. 38; M. Chibnall, The Normans (Oxford, 2000), p. 26. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 137–38, pp. 138–39. “Vix proceres istos equites ter mille sequuntur, et pauci pedites.” Bünemann, Robert Guiskard, pp. 20–1. Chronicon Vulturnense, 3: 85. M. Fuiano, “La Battaglia di Civitate (1053),” Archivio Storico Pugliese, 2 (1949), 125–33, especially 126. Bünemann, Robert Guiskard, p. 20. Romuald of Salerno, Romualdi Salernitani Chronicon, p. 179. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination Normande en Italie, 1: 136. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 293–94, p. 148. Amatus, History of the Normans, 4. 3, p. 112 and 5. 6, p. 135; Storia de Normanni, 4. 3, p. 185 and 5. 6, p. 228; “Chronicon Amalfitanum”, in U. Schwarz, Amalfi im frühen Mittelalter (9.–11. Jahrundert) (Tübingen, 1978), pp. 211–12; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 3. 15, p. 378. The Chronicon Breve Nortmannicum, anno 1048, p 278, does note the capture of Troia by Humphrey in 1048 but this document has largely been disregarded as an eighteenth-century forgery (see note 85 above).

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Map 1.  Routes taken to the battle

About 500 meters south of where the Ponte di Civitate spans the Fortore, its tributary, the Staina, branches off to the east and parallels the river to the south. William of Apulia says the papal army camped along the east bank of the Fortore,111 but Leo’s anonymous Beneventan biographer specifies instead the Staina.112 Taking the various contemporary descriptions of the looming battle into account, the latter is more likely. Varying from 500 to 700 meters further to the east, the modern Strada Statale Adriatica 16 (Italian state road) shadows the Staina. Most of the fighting seems to have taken place in the relatively level intervening ground between the Staina and Strada Statale Adriatica 16. The northern boundary of the battle field was probably the Ponte di Civitate and the southern border was likely a large farm called Tre Fontane (Three Fountains). Still further east about 500 meters, opposite the center of the battlefield is a low hill called today the Coppa Mengoni, gently rising to a height of 222 meters above mean sea level (about 50 to 100 meters above the surrounding terrain). Just about a kilometer north of that are the ruins of a fortified wall, believed to be all that remains of the old cathedral of Civitate. The city was obliterated 111 112

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 177–78, pp. 140–43. “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 318.



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Map 2.  Battle of Civitate

at beginning of the fifteenth century by an earthquake. Under the Romans, it was known as Teanum Apulum and its significance stemmed from the fact that it stood at the head of the Via Traiana-Frentana. The catepan Boiannes had it fortified and renamed in the aftermath of his victory over the Lombards and Normans at Cannae in 1018.113 Now it would witness one of the most decisive battles of the medieval Mediterranean. [See Map 2] Most of the Normans had undoubtedly arrived some time before 17 June 1053 from over the Tavoliere delle Puglie, a thirty-square-kilometer alluvial plain extending from the Monti della Daunia in the west to the Gargano Promontory in the east and bordered by the Ofanto River in the south and the Fortore in the north. Richard of Aversa and his Campanian knights probably came by way of Bovino while Guiscard must have brought his Calabrians through the environs of Ascoli Satriano. Those from Melfi and Venosa in the Basilicata must have made their way up somewhere east of there. Michele Fuiano hypothesizes that the Candelaro River between Siponto and the vicinity of today’s San Paolo di Civitate, a few kilometers south of the old city of Civitate, would have

113

Fuiano, “La Battaglia di Civitate,” pp. 124–25 and 124, n. 2.

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been another route.114 Accepting the premise that Humphrey had just beaten Argyros at Siponto, he would likely have brought his Apulians and the Amicus brothers along this path. The Norman army apparently bivouacked on the other side of the Coppa Mengoni from the papal army. Both William of Apulia and Anonymous of Benevento testify that there was a humble hill between the two encampments which prevented them from seeing one another.115 Hostilities did not commence immediately. Most of the major sources agree that the Normans initially sought a negotiated resolution to the conflict.116 Their motivation in doing so was clear. First of all, field commanders rarely risked all on the vagaries of a single pitched battle unless there was little choice. John Gillingham provides a persuasive paradigm which contends, “Most campaigns did not end in battle largely because both commanders were reluctant to risk battle,” which he regarded as “a desperately chancy business.”117 This philosophy was in keeping with the “General rules of war” of the fourth-century Roman strategist, Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus who counseled, “It is preferable to subdue an enemy by famine, raids and terror, than in battle where fortune tends to have more influence than bravery.”118 Gillingham’s school of thought on medieval battle-seeking has a number of prominent adherents, including Stephen Morillo and Matthew Strickland.119 Recently, Clifford Rogers has offered a more balanced perspective by pointing out that a commander may have viewed a pitched battle as “the quickest and cheapest way” to achieve his objectives.120 Nonetheless, Humphrey, the titular head of the Norman forces, was a highly experienced military leader who, given the circumstances at Civitate, would have been unlikely to gamble his limited forces unless he felt he had no option. The Normans were apparently grossly outnumbered. William of Apulia forthrightly observes, “Although famous for their deeds of arms, the Normans were, on seeing so many columns, afraid to resist them.”121 Humphrey may also have felt that his knights were in no condition for combat. They were 114 115 116

117 118

119 120 121

Fuiano, “La Battaglia di Civitate,” pp. 127–28. “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 318; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 148–49, pp. 140–41. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 39, pp. 152–54; Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 95; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 132; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 85–92, pp. 136–37. John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War,” in Anglo-Norman Warfare, ed. Matthew Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992), pp. 194–207, especially pp. 198–99. Vegetius, Epitome of Military Science, 3. 26, trans. N. P. Milner (Liverpool, 1993), p. 108; Flavi Vegeti Renati, Epitoma rei militaris, 3.26, ed. C. Lang (Leipzig, 1885), p. 121. “Aut inopia aut superventibus aut terrore melius est hostem domare quam proelio, in quo amplius solet fortuna postestatis habere quam virtus.” Stephen Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings (Woodbridge, 1994), p. 2; Strickland, War and Chivalry, p. 59. Clifford J. Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” Journal of Medieval Military History, 1 (2002), 1–19, especially p. 19. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 85–6, pp. 136–37. “Normanni licet insignes fulgentibus armis, agminibus tantis visis obstare timentes.”



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starving. Amatus says, “Hunger vexed the Normans, who by the example of the Apostles took the heads of grain, rubbed them in their hands, and ate the kernels.”122 Similarly, William of Apulia relates that “the French, who lacked bread, had dried the green corn over a fire and had eaten the burnt grains.”123 It seems that news of the papal army had emboldened the local Apulian towns to close their gates to the Normans and refuse them sustenance.124 To make matters worse, Lupus Protospatarios, a Byzantine civil servant who wrote a set of annals for the thema of Longobardia (Apulia) from 855 to 1102, records that a “great famine” plagued Apulia that year.125 Lastly, despite their reputation for rapaciousness, there seems to have been some reluctance on the part of the Normans to wage war on the Vicar of Christ.126 Unfortunately, the parlay did not go well. According to William of Apulia, the Normans “sent envoys who requested a peace treaty and who asked the pope to benevolently receive their submission” and that “he be willing to be their lord and they might be his vassals.”127 “And they promised,” adds Amatus, “to give incense and tribute money each year to the Holy Church, and those lands which they had conquered by arms they wanted to receive from the hand of the Vicar of the Church.”128 In order to bolster their plea, they presented the imperial banner by which Henry III had invested Rainulf II with his land in 1047. All of these entreaties were rudely rebuffed. Frederick of Lorraine, the pope’s chancellor, “threatened them with death if they did not leave.”129 The leadership of the German contingent was more demeaning and deprecatory still. According to William of Apulia, they derided the relatively short stature of the Normans and forcefully advised the pope to spurn their proposals: The Germans, notable for their long hair, good looks and height, mocked the Normans, who seemed small [to them], and disdained the messages of a people whom they considered their inferiors both in numbers and strength. They surrounded the pope and arrogantly addressed him, “Command the Normans to leave the land of Italy, to lay down their arms and return to their native land. If they refuse this, we do not wish to 122

123 124 125 126 127

128

129

Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 154. “La necessité de la fame moleste li Normant, et par lo exemple de li Apostole prenoient li espic de lo grain et frotoient o la main, et ensi menjoient lo grain.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 117–18, pp. 138–39. “quos Francigenae, quia pane carebant, igni torrebant et vescebantur adustis.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 119–21, pp. 138–39. Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1053, p. 59. “magna fames …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 89–90, pp. 136–37. See also Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 117. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 87–92, pp. 136–37. “Legatos mittunt, qui pacis foedera poscant, quique rogent papam, placidus famulamen eorum suscipiat ... at quaesitorum cognoscere munus ab ipso: si placet, hunc dominum poscunt sibi seque fideles.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 39, p. 153. “… et prometoient chacun an de donner incense et tribut à la sainte Eclize, et celles terres qu’il ont veincues par armes voloient recevoir le par la main de lo Vicaire de l”Eglise.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 39, p. 154. “les manesa de mort, et lor propona qu’il doient fugir.”

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receive their peace overtures nor should you pay any attention to their messages. They have not yet experienced German swords. If they do not leave willingly they should be forced to go, and failing that they will perish by the sword!”130

Obviously, if the testimony of the Norman chroniclers can be believed, there was no sincere attempt on the part of the pope’s entourage to negotiate with the Normans in good faith. There was no realistic expectation that disinherited Norman knights would slink chastened back across the Alps to northern France. And, to be equitable, the Normans had amply demonstrated up to that point that once the papal coalition disbanded, as it surely would, they would continue to take whatever their swords would permit regardless of any promises made under duress. This is why, as per Anonymous of Benevento, the Normans had made having a free hand against Argyros a condition of their submission.131 The pope’s advisors understood that the only viable option was to destroy the Norman forces in the field while the papal host retained numerical superiority. The harshness of the rejection, if true, however, did not serve the interests of the Holy See. If Leo had thought that Argyros might still join the fray, it would have made more sense to play for time by attempting to string out the negotiations with some hope of compromise, but, according to Leo’s own words written subsequent to the battle, he and his entourage had demanded “total subjection.”132 As it was, they had only succeeded in removing all alternatives from the Normans and instilling them with a fierce resolve. Once the emissaries returned to camp, the Norman leadership had little difficulty deciding what to do. In his post-battle letter to Constantine IX Monomachos, Pope Leo writes, “Meanwhile, while we were trying to break down their obstinacy with our salutary warnings and while they [the Normans] were responding with false promises of total subjection, they launched a sudden attack against our forces.”133 Of course, they did. The Normans bore the imperial banner of investiture to symbolize their belief that the lands which they had conquered with their own blood was theirs by right.134 And at this point, they, in

130

131 132 133

134

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 99–105, pp. 136–37. “Teutonici, quia caesaries et forma decoros fecerat egregie proceri corporis illos, corpora derident Normanica, quae breviora esse videbantur, nec eorum nuntia curant, upote nec numero populi nec viribus aequi. Conveniunt papam verbis animoque superbi: ‘Praecipe Normannis Italas dimittere terras abiectis armis, patriosque revisere fines. Quod si noluerint, nec foedera pacis ab ipsis suscipias volumus, nec eorum nuntia cures. Nondum sunt gladios experti Teutonicorum. Intereant gladiis, aut compellantur abire, invitique solum, quod nolunt sponte, relinquant.’” (English translation by G. A. Loud at www.leeds.ac.uk/history/weblearning/MedievalHistoryTextCentre/medievalTexts/html.) “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 318. Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 10, p. 164; “The Life of Pope Leo IX” 2. 20, p. 150. “omnem subiectionem.” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 10, p. 164; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 20, p. 150. “Interea nobis eorum pertinaciam salutari admonitione frangere tentantibus et illis ex adverso omnem subiectionem ficte pollicentibus, repentino impetu comitatum nostrum aggrediuntur ...” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 39, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 39, p. 154.



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effect, had nowhere else to go.135 Moreover, they had been “three days without bread.”136 If they had waited any longer, they might not have had the strength to lift lance and shield in their own defense. They may also have felt that Argyros, though defeated at Siponto, was still a threat to unexpectedly appear in their rear with a hastily amassed Greco-Lombard army. Another factor in the decision may have been that “the German people [the most formidable fighting force in the papal camp] were not seen in great numbers.”137 Besides, as Taviani-Carozzi points out at some length, it did not help matters much that the emissaries of these French-speaking warriors were denigrated by German nobles and a German chancellor at the behest of a German pope.138 But in the end, it was about survival, plain and simple. In the view of the Normans, it was prevail or perish. Thus, they would have pursued every possible ploy to even the odds, including surprise. So “before the crowing of the cock” on the morning of 18 June 1053,139 William of Apulia reports, the Normans “climbed the hill to inspect the enemy camp; after which they armed themselves.”140 Richard of Aversa took the right wing, Humphrey commanded the center and Robert Guiscard was assigned the left wing and held in reserve.141 Unfortunately, the chroniclers do not say precisely how the various companies deployed themselves in relation to the surrounding topography, like the Coppa Mengoni. Logic, however, would dictate that, since the Normans were initiating the hostilities, they would use the heights to their best advantage. Once Humphrey and his lieutenants had taken possession of the hill for the purposes of reconnoitering the enemy camp, it is doubtful that he would have risked relinquishing it. No competent commander would willingly cede the high ground to the enemy, therefore Humphrey probably arranged his company on the crest of the Coppa Mengoni with Richard’s Campanians formed up on the north slopes to his right. Archaeological and anecdotal evidence (i.e., where skeletal remains and other artifacts of the battle were found) convinced Fuiano that the Normans indeed began the battle from the hill.142 William of Apulia testifies that Humphrey placed Robert and his Calabrians on his left,143 but, perhaps, not immediately to his left. Humphrey may have tried to hold them in reserve by hiding them from view behind the 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 180–82, pp. 142–43. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. l. 138, pp. 138–39. “Triduo quia panis egentes …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. l. 138, pp. 138–39. “Teutonici populi non copia magna videtur.” Taviani-Carozzi, La terreur du monde, Robert Guiscard, pp. 200–01 and 209–10. Poncelet, “Vie et miracles du pape S. Leon IX”, 25, p. 285. “ante pullorum cantus …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 182–83, pp. 142–43. “Collem conscendunt, ut castra hostilia spectent. Spectatis castris armantur.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 155; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 184–91, pp. 142–43. Fuiano, “La Battaglia di Civitate”, pp. 130–31. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 183–85, pp. 142–43.

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southern slopes of the hill. According to Jim Bradbury, a cavalry detachment held in reserve for a decisive charge was a common element in Norman battle plans.144 Bünemann, for one, believes this was the case at Civitate.145 Furthermore, concealing a reserve element was an age-old battle tactic. Hannibal had used it at Cannae to annihilate a Roman army twice the size of his own in 216 B.C. and Caesar had won a crushing victory over Pompey the Great at Pharsalus in 48 B.C. with the tactic.146 This would help explain why the papal army failed to form a wing to counter Guiscard’s. They simply did not see him. The pope and his commanders must have realized that battle was imminent once they saw the Normans forming up. Amatus reports, “Rainulf and Renier were chosen to lead the papal forces,”147 but they are neither identified nor mentioned in any other contemporary source. Bünemann believes, instead, that Leo IX may have arranged the battle lines himself in the exigency of the moment.148 After all, his Lotharingian biographer bears witness that as Bruno, the twenty-three-year old deacon of Toul, he had served as a field commander for Conrad II, king of the Germans, on a previous expedition to Italy: “In the direction of this secular warfare he immediately showed himself wise and circumspect, as if he had hitherto been engaged solely in affairs of this kind.” The monk adds, “He took care to assign each man a suitable task and so regulated their service that everyone, whether nobleman or commoner, need be concerned only with his own duties.”149 According to both Amatus and Anonymous of Benevento, he, at the very least, offered his blessing and encouragement prior to the onslaught.150 Amatus contends that the pope absolved his knights of their sins and “gave the order to do battle” from the city walls,151 but this seems unlikely given the location of the city, less than six hundred meters north of the Norman camp and over a kilometer east of where his own forces were bivouacked. More believably, this was done at the Pozzo di San Leo (Well of Saint 144 145 146

147 148 149

150 151

Jim Bradbury, “Battles in England and Normandy, 1066–1154,” in Strickland, Anglo-Norman Warfare, pp. 182–93, especially pp. 191–92. Bünemann, Robert Guiskard, p. 21. Goldsworthy, Complete Roman Army, pp. 40–1and 182–83. At Cannae Hannibal hid two corps of Libyan foot behind his front line which he used to ambush Roman legionaries breaking through his center and at Pharsalus Caesar employed a fourth line of infantry concealed behind his right flank to surprise Pompey’s charging cavalry and to roll up the general’s left flank. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 155. “Ranolfe et Raynier furent eslit principe de ceste part.” Bünemann, Robert Guiskard, pp. 21–2. Vita Leonis IX papae, 1.1. 7, pp. 134–35; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 1. 7, p. 108. “In illius itaque saecularis militiae dispositione sic repente sagax apparuit et providus, quasi huiusmodi negotiis tantum fuisset hactenus exercitus.” “… quos sic per assignata et congrua unicuique officia curabat ordinare, ut tantun pro se quique tam nobiles, quam privati debuissent solliciti esse.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 154; “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae” 2: 319–20. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 154. “lor commanda de boche qu’il alent combatre.”



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Leo), about four hundred meters north of the Tre Fontane farm and opposite the south slopes of the Coppa Mengoni.152 The Swabians were deployed on the right wing, facing Humphrey’s Apulians, while the Italo-Lombards were placed on the left, opposite Richard with his “hand-picked squadron of knights.”153 It was the Italo-Lombards that the Leo was most keen to embolden. By all accounts, they were a pusillanimous, motley lot whose only advantage was numbers. William of Apulia called them “the dregs of Italy, a most unworthy people” whose “basic instincts were fear, trembling and decadence.”154 Moreover, many were ill-equipped peasants; only the nobles probably had the benefit of armor and mounts. And none were accustomed to acting in concert, since they had originated from so many different regions. In a rousing harangue attributed to the pope by Anonymous of Benevento, Leo attempted to hearten them: “Rally, defend the fields, the vines, the homes, the sons, the wives, defend yourselves! Do I urge you to combat in order to procure an increase in honor of itself? No, fight only for your country!”155 The pope’s concerns also bespoke a lack of cohesive leadership among the Italo-Lombards. William of Apulia specifically names the brothers Trasmund and Atto, the counts of Teate (modern Chieti), and “the sons of the noble Borell family” of the Sangro Valley, all in the Abruzzi, as leading the Italo-Lombard contingent, but no one actually seemed to be in charge.156 The untrained rank and file would have tended to follow the orders of their respective lords regardless. The chain of command was diffuse and muddled at best. Thus, while “the warlike Swabians” on the right flank apparently responded with alacrity to the orders of their two commanders,157 Werner and Albert, William of Apulia claims, “The Italians all stood crowded together on the other side [the left flank], because they did not know how to arrange their troops in proper battle order.”158 Richard of Aversa could not have failed to notice. He charged. Amatus says, “Count Richard divided the Germans and passed into their midst,” but his account is implausible in the extreme.159 Richard would have had to cross in 152 153 154 155

156 157 158

159

M. Fraccacreta, Teatro topografico storico-poetica della Capitanata, 6 vols. (Naples, 1832), 2: 141. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. l. 186, pp. 142–43. “clara chors equitum …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 108–11, pp. 138–39. “Spem dabat his italae fex indignissma gentis …” “his erat innatus pavor et fuga luxuriesque.” “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae” 2: 319–20. “Expergiscimini inquam agros, vineas, domos, filios, uxores, vos denique ipsos defendite. Nunquid ut alienum cuiuslibet honorem acquiratis vos pugnare moneo? Absit, pro patria tantum pugnate.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 164–66, pp. 140–41. “et Burrellina generosa propagine proles.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. l. 187, pp. 142–43. “bella Suevos …” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 193–95, pp. 142–43. “Itali simul omnes conglomerati, parte alia stabant: etenim certamine belli non aptare suas acies recto ordine norant.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 100; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 155. “Et lo conte Richart despart li Todeschi et passe parmi eaux.”

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front of Humphrey to ensconce himself in the middle of the most formidable unit in the papal army, leaving the larger Italian wing to crash the Norman right flank. William of Apulia is far more credible here. He insists Richard headed straight for the Italians.160 Seeing hundreds of tons of horseflesh ridden by some of the most skilled horsemen in Europe thundering down the hill might have unnerved the stoutest of hearts, something which the Italo-Lombards clearly were not. They immediately broke. “Fear filled them all,” recounts William of Apulia, “and they turned and fled across hill and dale.”161 The collapse may have even been exacerbated by treachery. The anonymous contemporary author of “Vie et miracles du pape Leon IX” claims a certain Count Madelfrid (probably Malfredus of Campomarino in the Molise) betrayed the papal cause for Norman silver. He had supposedly prearranged in advance to flee with his people at the first charge of the Norman cavalry.162 Under the circumstances, such an action, if true, would have almost certainly engendered a general panic and rout among the Italo-Lombards. While the tale is not corroborated by other sources, it is certainly not beyond the realm of possibility. Suborning their adversaries with land and largesse was a ploy routinely practiced by the Normans in the south. Guiscard did it at the culmination of the siege of Salerno in 1076163 and again to breach the defenses of Durazzo in 1081.164 The Swabians showed themselves to be another matter entirely. They appear to have been well led, highly disciplined and utterly resolute. Unlike the Normans who often began their training in the saddle before the age of eight,165 the Swabians “were not versed in horsemanship.”166 Accordingly, they fought on foot where they could wield their preferred weapon, the sword, to horrific effect. “These swords were very long and keen,” insists William of Apulia, “and they were very often capable of cutting someone in two!”167 Although the precise size and shape of the Swabian weapon of choice is not known, the presumption from William of Apulia’s obviously exaggerated description is that it must have been longer and heavier than its Norman counterpart. Whatever they were, they proved to be a match for Norman lances – at least at the outset.

160 161 162 163 164

165 166 167

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 196–97, pp. 142–43. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 193–95, pp. 142–43. “tremor arripit omnes, inque fugam versi perplana, per ardua diffugiunt ...” Mathieu, “Commentaire”, in La Geste de Robert Guiscard, p. 284; “Vie et miracles du pape S. Leon IX”, 285–87. Amatus, History of the Normans, 8. 24, pp. 194–95; Storia de Normanni, 8. 24, pp. 364–65; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 3, ll. 442–45, pp. 188–89. Lupus Protospatarius, Annales, anno 1082, p. 61; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 3. 28, pp. 158–59; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 3. 28, p. 74–5; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 4, ll. 450–504, pp. 229–31. R. H. C. Davis, The Medieval Warhorse (London, 1989), p. 19. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, line 154, pp. 140–41. “... equos adeo non ducere cauta.” Ibid., ll. 158–60, pp. 140–41. “Sunt etenim longi specialiter et peracuti illorum gladii; percussum a vertice corpus scindere saepe solent...”



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Humphrey opened his assault on the Swabians with a volley of arrows. The Germans responded in kind; then, both sides charged each other, swords drawn.168 The carnage must have been appalling. “You could see human bodies split down the middle, and horse and man laying dead together,” reports William.169 While William’s description is clearly embellished, it indicates the fighting was quite fierce. At this point the clash had become a stalemate at best, in which the Swabians seemed “determined not to yield in any way.”170 TavianiCarozzi contends that Humphrey’s corps may even have been driven back,171 but there is nothing in the sources to substantiate this. Besides, the Swabians would probably have had to advance uphill to do so. In any case, Humphrey had become so beleaguered that Robert felt compelled to join the fray. He probably wheeled his wing around the hill clockwise (from the south around the west side), smashing into the German right (west side) flank. [Refer to Map 2] William of Apulia extols Guiscard’s actions in overblown language reminiscent of the Chanson de Roland: He speared them with his lance, beheaded them with his sword, dealing out fearful blows with his mighty hands. He fought with each hand, both lance and sword hit whatever target they were aimed at. He was unhorsed three times, thrice he recovered his strength and returned more fiercely to the fray. His fury merely increased, as does that of the lion who roars and furiously attacks those animals less strong than himself, and if he meets resistance becomes more ferocious and burns with greater anger. He gives no quarter, he drags off his prey and eats it, scatters what he cannot devour, bringing death to all. In such a way did Robert continue to bring death to the Swabians who opposed him. He cut off feet and hands, sliced heads from bodies, ripped into breasts and chests, and transfixed those whose heads he had cut off. Cutting off the heads of these huge men he made them the same size as those smaller, proving that the greatest bravery is not the prerogative of the tall, but often rests with those of shorter stature. After the battle it was known that none, victor or vanquished, had inflicted such mighty blows.172 168 169 170 171 172

Ibid., ll. 210–12, pp. 142–43. Ibid., ll. 214–15, pp. 144–45. “Illic humanum a vertice corpus vidisses et equos hominis cum corpore caesos.” Ibid., ll. 217–18, pp. 144–45. “nullatenus ullo cedere velle modo …” Taviani-Carozzi, La terreur du monde, Robert Guiscard, p. 207. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 223–43, pp. 144–45. “Et validis manibus horrendos incutit ictus; pugnat utraque manu, nec lancea cassa, nec ensis cassus erat, quocumque manum deducere vellet. Ter deiectus equo, ter viribus ipse resumptis, maior in arma redit; stimulos furor ipse ministrat. Ut leo, cum frendens animalia forte minora acriter invadit, si quid reperire quod obset coeperit, insanit, magis et mairibus ira accensa stimulat; nil iam dimittit inultum; hoc trahit, hoc mandit, quod mandi posse negatur dissipat, affligens pecus exitialiter omne: taliter obstantes diversa caede Suevos caedere non cessat Robertus; et hos pede truncat, et manibus quosdam; caput huic cum corpore caedit; illius ventrem cum pectore dissecat, huius transdigit costas abscisco vertice; magna corpora corporibus truncata minoribus aequat; virtutisque docet palmam non affore tantum corporibus magnis, qua saepe minora redundant. Nullus in hoc bello, sicut post bella probatum est, victor vel victus tam magnos edidit ictus.” (English translation by G. A. Loud at www.leeds.ac.uk/history/ weblearning/MedievalHistoryTextCentre/medievalTexts/html.)

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Still, the stalwart Swabians stood their ground. What ended the deadlock was Richard. He had managed to rally his knights and return to the battle. In William’s words, the Italo-Lombards they were chasing had “fled like doves with a hawk in pursuit, at top speed towards the rocky summits of a mountain peak,”173 but the only nearby mountains of any magnitude were the Monti della Daunia, some twenty kilometers to the southwest. What probably stopped predators and prey alike was much closer: the Fortore, no more than a kilometer from the main mêlée. The river also would have made a convenient rallying point for Richard to reform his cavalry. Once this was accomplished, he returned to the battlefield to see his comrades still embroiled in desperate combat with the Germans. Richard charged.174 The result was catastrophic. The Swabians must have been nearly spent, when Richard’s knights slammed into their rear. They had already been engaged for some time with two corps of crack Norman cavalry, swinging those heavy swords up against hauberks and kite shields borne by mounted men in mid-June in the middle of the Mediterranean. The Annales Beneventani says three hundred of the pope’s knights fell,175 but all three of the main Norman sources are unanimous: few if any of the Swabians survived.176 Aftermath Leo IX stood helpless on the walls of Civitate as his dream of imposing papal power on southern Italy disintegrated before his eyes. Both William of Apulia and Geoffrey Malaterra maintain that the pope sought refuge in the city as the battle ended.177 Anonymous of Benevento asserts, instead, that he withdrew to Civitate after the first clash.178 Regardless of how he got there, the chroniclers are generally in agreement that the inhabitants forced him out once a Norman victory became apparent. After all, the city had, at least in the Norman view, been under Norman suzerainty since 1042 when it was allotted to Walter Amicus by the other Norman lords at the partition of Melfi.179 The citizens, rightfully, must have been fearful of retribution at that point. Indeed, Anonymous of Benevento, Herman of Reichenau and Malaterra all claim that the Normans had already begun to besiege the ramparts when Leo was expelled.180 Practicing a bit of hagiographically-inspired story-shaping the Beneventan biog173 174 175 176

177 178 179 180

William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 203–4, pp. 142–43. “fugitivo summa volatu et scopulosa facit celsi iuga quaerere montis...” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 245–50, pp. 144–47. Annales Beneventani, anno 1053, p. 180. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 40, p. 101; Storia de Normanni, 3. 40, p. 156; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, pp. 61–2; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 14, p. 15; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 255–56, pp. 146–47. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, p. 61; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 14, p. 15; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 258–59, pp. 146–47. “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 320. Amatus, History of the Normans, 2. 31, p. 77; Storia de Normanni, 2. 31, p. 96. Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 96; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 133;



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rapher even goes so far as to profess that the Normans had set fire to the hovels huddled against the outer fortifications “when, by divine intervention, the winds suddenly changed direction blowing the flames towards the enemy.”181 In the end, however, the pontiff had no choice but to submit himself to the mercy of his triumphant adversaries. Given the circumstances, the reception must have surprised him.182 The sources are all in accordance in describing the deferential manner with which he was treated. The Normans greeted the pope with reverence and remorse.183 The testimony of his anonymous Beneventan biographer is representative: “Some knights prostrated themselves with their whole bodies; others having put on vestments of silk covered with dust threw themselves abruptly at the feet of the pope.”184 They begged for his blessing and absolution. He gave it and afterwards, according to his Lotharingian hagiographer, “strove to obtain an honorable burial for those who had been slain in his service, interring them in a neighboring church that had long been in ruins.”185 This last is supported by archaeological evidence. In 1820, about fifty meters south of the ruins of the cathedral, Monsignore Giovanni Camillo Rossi, the bishop of San Severo, unearthed a vaulted crypt which contained the bones of a large number of tall males bearing the marks of horrendous wounds. Further excavations throughout the area revealed other heaps of ancient human remains.186 In 1949, Michele Fuiano writes that in the farmer’s fields to the west of Strada Statale Adriatica 16 and north of the Tre Fontane farm “were recently exhumed the bones of men and horses, arranged without any order, higgledypiggledy.”187 It appears that many of those who had fallen in the battle were simply buried where they lay. Once the obsequies for the dead were accomplished, the Normans accompanied the pope back to Benevento. By all accounts he was treated with the veneration due his status. “They escorted him with all his entourage as far as

181 182 183

184 185 186 187

Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, pp. 61–2; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 14, p. 15; “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 321. “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 321. “mirum in modum divino nutu furens incendium, velut venti raptum flamine in hostem cursem retorsit.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 41, p. 101; Storia de Normanni, 3. 41, p. 157. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 41, p. 101; Storia de Normanni, 3. 41, p. 157; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 84, p. 333; Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 96; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 133; Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, p. 62; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1.14, p. 15; “Vie et miracles du pape S. Leon IX,” p. 287; Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 11, p. 165; “The Life of Pope Leo IX,” 2. 21, p. 151; “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae,” 2: 322; William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2, ll. 262–65, pp. 146–47. “Vita et obitus sancti Leonis noni papae, ” 2: 322. “Alios militum toto prostratos corpore; alios vero sericis pulvere fedatis vestibus reppendo ad eius provolvi pedes.” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 11, p. 165; “The Life of Pope Leo IX,” 2. 21, p. 151. “studuit funera caesorum honorifice procurare, tumulans ea in vincina ecclesia ab antiquo diruta tempore.” Fraccacreta, Teatro topografico storico-poetica della Capitanata, 2: 57–9, 141–44. Fuiano, “La Battaglia di Civitate,” p. 131.

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Benevento,” writes Amatus, “and they continually furnished him wine, bread, and all the necessities.”188 But he was by no means a free man. The Anonymi Barensis makes this abundantly clear: “They [the Normans] captured him [the pope] and took him to Benevento, albeit with honor.”189 Bishop Bonizo of Sutri substantiates this in no uncertain terms: “They [the Normans] brought the pope through the midst of the carnage to Benevento, a captive but honorably treated, as was his due.”190 Bishop Bruno of Segni provides further proof of Leo’s privileged imprisonment in describing his reception by the citizens of Benevento: “They stood bewildered and watched their coming [the papal entourage] while they were still at a distance; now the pontiff was drawing near, preceded by the bishops and clergy, with sad faces and bowed heads.”191 And a hostage Leo remained, a condition made unmistakable by Herman of Reichenau: “… and brought back to Benevento, although in an honorable fashion, he [Pope Leo IX] was detained there for some time and was not permitted to return [to Rome].”192 The Normans held Leo at Benevento from 23 June 1053 until 12 March 1054 in an apparent attempt to extort recognition from him for their conquests in southern Italy. The pope gamely resisted for nine months because he continued to hold out hope that either his cousin, the Holy Roman Emperor Henry III, or the Eastern Emperor, Constantine IX Monomachos, would come to his aid. In early 1054, he dispatched a papal legation to Constantinople, which included Cardinal Humbert of Silva Candida, Archbishop Peter of Amalfi and Frederick of Lorraine, primarily in hopes of staving off the schism brewing between the Eastern and Western Churches but also in an effort to devise some sort of joint action against the Normans.193 His letter to the emperor manifestly reveals that he had not given up the desideratum of ousting the Normans from Italy: “We ourselves, trusting that divine aid will be with us and that human help will not fail us, shall not give up our intention of liberating Christendom nor shall we give any rest in our time, until holy Church, now so much in danger, is at 188

189 190

191

192

193

Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 41, p. 101; Storia de Normanni, 3. 41, pp. 157–58. “Liquel menerent, o tout sa gent, jusque à Bonivent; et lui aministroient continuelment pain et vin et toute choze neccessaire.” Anonymi Barensis chronicon, anno 1052, p. 152. “Compraehenserunt illum, et portaverunt Benevento, tamen cum honoribus.” Bonizonis episcopi Sutriensis: Liber ad Amicum, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1: 100–5, especially 104–5; “Bishop Bonizo of Sutri: ‘To a Friend’”, in Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, pp. 158–261, especially 5, p. 193. “captumque Papam, sed, ut decuit, honorifice tractatum, per mediam stragem interfectorum usque Beneventum perduxerunt.” Brunonis episcopi Signiensis: Libellus de symoniacis, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1: 95–100, especially p. 98; “Bruno of Segni, The Sermon of the Venerable Bishop Bruno concerning Simoniacs,” in Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, Appendix 2, pp. 377–90, especially p.384. “Stant attoniti, spectant de longe venientes. Et iam Pontifex propinquabat, episcopis et clericis tristi vultu et inclinata facie procedentibus.” Herman of Reichenau, Chronicle, anno 1053, p. 96; Chronicon (MGH), anno 1053, p. 133. “… Beneventum, cum honore tamen, reductus est; ibique tempore aliquanto detentus, nec redire permissus.” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 9, p. 162; “The Life of Pope Leo IX,” 2. 19, p. 148.



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rest.”194 Unfortunately, the embassy came to naught when the Greek Patriarch, Michael Cerularius, refused to meet with it and Humbert responded by placing an anathema on him.195 When it became apparent that no aid would be forthcoming, Pope Leo finally relented. Geoffrey Malaterra provides a notion of what the pontiff may have reluctantly yielded: “He [Pope Leo] conceded to them [the Normans] all the land that they had conquered – as well as any they might acquire in the future in the regions of Calabria and Sicily – as a hereditary fief from St. Peter to be held by Humphrey and his heirs.”196 While this sounds suspiciously like what Pope Nicholas II officially conferred on Robert Guiscard, Humphrey’s successor, at Melfi some six years later, it does find some tenuous support from Orderic Vitalis who writes that Robert Guiscard received “a grant of Apulia … from Pope Leo, to hold perpetually and defend against the enemies of St. Peter.”197 Orderic may, however, have merely gotten this from Malaterra with whose work he was evidently familiar.198 In any case, whatever the pope may have promised, it must have been satisfactory, because Humphrey not only released him but also accompanied him as far as Capua.199 The great reformer of the Church arrived in Rome a broken man who passed away a few days later on 19 April 1054.200 No one picked up the banner of his cause against the Normans. Constantine IX followed him to the grave in January 1055 and Henry III likewise in October 1056.201 Nor were Leo’s immediate successors to the Holy See able to take up the struggle. His direct heir to the throne of Saint Peter was Victor II, the erstwhile Bishop Gebhard of Eichstät, who had counseled Henry III to withdraw his troops from the service of his predecessor for fear of becoming embroiled in the affairs of southern Italy.202 He, in turn, was followed into the Lateran Palace by Stephen IX, the former Frederick of Lorraine, who had served as Leo’s chancellor during the

194

195 196

197

198 199 200 201 202

Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 10, pp. 164–65; “The Life of Pope Leo IX,” 2. 20, p. 150. “Nos quoque divinum adiutorium affore et humanum non defore confidentes, ab hac nostra intentione liberandae christianitatis non deficiemus nec dabimus requiem temporibus nostris, nisi cum requie sanctae ecclesiae periclitantis.” Vita Leonis IX papae, 1. 2. 9, pp. 162–63; “The Life of Pope Leo IX”, 2. 19, pp. 148–49. Malaterra, Deeds of Count Roger, 1. 14, p. 62; De rebus gestis Rogerii, 1. 14, p. 15. “… et omnem terram, quam pervaserant et quam ulterius versus Calabriam et Siciliam lucrari possent, de sancti Petri haereditali feudo sibi et haeredibus suis possidendam concessit circa annos MLIII.” Orderic Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. Majorie Chibnall, 6 vols. (Oxford, 1968–1980), 3: 86–9. “a Leone papa dono recepit Apuliam contra aduersarios sancti Petri perenniter eam defensurus.” Orderic Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, 2: 100–1. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 2. 84, p. 333. De obitu sancti Leonis papae, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1. p. 176. Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 120. Amatus, History of the Normans, 3. 47, p. 103; Storia de Normanni, 3. 47, p. 163; Victoris II vitae, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1: 177–83, especially pp. 179–80.

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latter’s ill-fated campaign against the Normans.203 Frederick was reportedly planning another campaign to finish what his patron had started when untimely illness and death intervened.204 Nicholas II (Gerard of Burgundy), who took custody of Saint Peter’s keys in the wake of Stephen’s demise, would reverse papal policy towards the Normans altogether.205 And he would do so on the counsel of Hildebrand of Sovana, former advisor to Leo IX and the future Pope Gregory VII, whose primary temporal protector would become none other than Robert ­Guiscard.206 As a result, the Normans prospered in the Mezzogiorno unhindered. Humphrey solidified his hold on Apulia. “Victory greatly raised the spirits of the Normans,” declares William of Apulia. “No Apulian city remained in rebellion against them.”207 The chronicler goes on to claim Humphrey “subdued many cities.” “The inhabitants of Troia paid tribute to the count; those of Bari, Trani, Venosa, Otranto and the city of Acerenza obeyed him.”208 Richard of Aversa returned to Campania and consolidated his grip on the region, seizing Capua for himself in June 1058.209 In the meantime, Robert, having burnished his reputation at Civitate, continued his conquest of Calabria at his brother’s behest until the latter’s death in early 1057, at which time Robert assumed for himself the county of Apulia.210 Finally, in August 1059 at the Synod of Melfi, Nicholas II, in return for fealty to the Holy See, invested Robert Guiscard as “Duke of Apulia and Calabria, and in the future … Sicily.”211 Leo Marsicanus corroborates this in the Chronicle of Montecassino and adds that the pope also “confirmed the principality of Capua to Richard.”212 For the next century and a half, the fate of the papacy and the Normans would be inextricably entwined.

203 204 205 206

207 208

209 210 211

212

Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 3. 9, pp. 369–71. H. E. J. Cowdrey, The Age of Abbot Desiderius: Montecassino, the Papacy, and the Normans in the Eleventh and Early Twelfth Centuries (Oxford, 1983), p. 111. Bonizonis episcopi Sutriensis: Liber ad Amicum, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1: 207–9; “Bishop Bonizo of Sutri,” in Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, 201–3. Bonizonis episcopi Sutriensis: Liber ad Amicum, in Pontificum Romanorum Vitae, 1: 100–3; “Bishop Bonizo of Sutri,” in Robinson, Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, pp. 190–91; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 3. 12–15, pp. 373–77. William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 284–85, pp. 146–47. “Crescit Normannis animus victoribus ingens, iamque rebellis eis urbs Appula nulla remansit.” William of Apulia, La Geste de Robert Guiscard, 2. ll. 293–96, pp. 148–49. “Multas sibi subdidit urbes: solvere Troiani comiti coepere tributum; hunc Barini, Tranenses et Venusini, cives Ydrunti famulantur et urbes Acerunti.” Amatus, History of the Normans, 4. 11, p. 114; Storia de Normanni, 4. 11, p. 190. Amatus, History of the Normans, 4. 2–3, pp. 111–12; Storia de Normanni, 4. 2–3, pp. 181–83. Le Liber Censuum de l’Eglise Romaine, ed. P. Fabre and L. Duchesne, 3 vols, Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 2, Series 6 (Paris, 1889–1952), 1:421–22. “dux Apulie et Calabrie et utroque subveniente futurus Sicilie…” Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 3. 15, p. 377. “Hisdem quoque diebus et Richardo principatum Capuanum ... confirmavit.”



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Repercussions Thirteen years after the battle of Civitate, Guy of Amiens famously reported that William the Conqueror had sought to galvanize his knights on the eve of the battle of Hastings by reminding them that they were “Normans, accustomed to heroic deeds, and to whom the Apulians, Calabrians, and Sicilians are slaves.”213 Hastings had a profound impact on European history, particularly that of England and northern France, but perhaps the reverberations of Civitate on the Mediterranean world of the time were comparably great. The battle destroyed papal aspirations to temporal power on the Italian peninsula and accelerated the Norman conquest of the South. Within a few years, the Normans, led by the House of Hauteville, consolidated power on the mainland and began the invasion of Sicily. Roger, Guiscard’s younger brother, would eventually complete the capture of the island from its Muslim masters and establish an aggressive Christian presence in the central Mediterranean on the eve of the Crusading movement. There is a compelling hypothesis that this, in turn, engendered western expansion eastward in the form of western Italian sea power, from Genoa and Pisa, coincident with the Crusades. From that moment on, Islam and Byzantium would gradually cede dominance on the sea to the West. The Norman conquest of southern Italy and Sicily had irrevocably reshaped the geopolitical and economic balance of power in the medieval Mediterranean.214 Without their improbable victory at Civitate, it is highly doubtful that the Normans would have been able to play their transformative role.

213

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Guy Bishop of Amiens, Carmen de Hastingaue Proelio, ed. and trans. Frank Barlow (Oxford, 1999), pp. 16–17.“Apulus et Calaber, Siculus quibus incola seruit, Normanni faciles actibus egregiis.” Stanton, Norman Naval Operations in the Mediterranean, pp. 1–8, 223–24.

3 The Square “Fighting March” of the Crusaders at the Battle of Ascalon (1099) Georgios Theotokis

On 12 August 1099 the Latin knights and footsoldiers of the First Crusade left Jerusalem to meet the Fatimid army of the grand vizier Al-Afdal which, at that time, had invaded Judaea and had encamped close to the coastal city of Ascalon. The army was estimated to be around twenty thousand strong, including both infantry and cavalry.1 This would be the first of several major expeditions by the Egyptians launched against the Crusader states in Palestine, all entering through Ascalon and its coastal plain. The Latin leaders were first alerted about a possible large enemy force approaching from the south on 9 August and on the next day the Crusader armies began their forty-kilometer march south to the city of Ascalon where the enemy was last reported to have camped. According to Raymond of Aguilers, one of the main chroniclers of the First Crusade and an eye witness of the events, the Latins numbered 1,200 knights and no more than 9,000 footsoldiers and “they marched in nine ranks, three to the rear, three to the front, and three in the middle so that attack would be met in three ranks with the middle one always available to bolster the others.”2 In this paper I will examine a number of theories about the origin of this particular marching formation, based on the manuals attributed to the Byzantine Emperors Maurice (582–602), Leo VI (886–912) and Nicephoros Phocas (963– 69) and several anonymous Byzantine military treatises of the sixth and tenth centuries. Also, I will seek to understand why the Latins adopted this particular formation and how effective it would have been against the two enemies of the Crusaders in the Holy Land, the Seljuks and the Fatimids. The question whether we have any other examples of the use of this “fighting march” after the battle of Ascalon will also be considered.

1 2

John France, Victory in the East, A Military History of the First Crusade (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 359–60; Hans Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 4 vols. (London, 1990), 3: 407. Le “Liber” de Raymond d’Aguilers, ed. John H. Hill and Laurita L. Hill (Paris, 1969), pp. 156–57; Raymond d’Aguilers, Historia Francorum qui ceperunt Iherusalem, trans. J. H. Hill and L. Hill (Philadelphia, 1968), pp. 133–34. For the battle of Ascalon, see: France, Victory in the East, pp. 356–66; Richard C. Smail, Crusading Warfare, 1097–1193, (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 174–75; Charles W. C. Oman, A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages AD 378–1485, 2 vols. (London, 1991), 1: 288–91; Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 3: 406–07.

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In general, Western European armies did not always adopt the same marching formations, but a rather similar pattern was followed depending on a number of factors like the terrain, the number of men and divisions, the danger of being attacked en route and the ratio between infantry and cavalry units.3 Usually we would have had a column of units in which the cavalry marches ahead of the infantry for better protection, keeping the baggage train to the rear, while lightly armed mounted squadrons of flank-guards and rear-guards would be posted by a prudent commander to prevent surprise attacks. But there is no evidence that the marching formation described before the battle at Ascalon, a square formation of three divisions on each side, had ever been applied by a Latin army before, either during the Crusade or by any other Western European army.4 And the question that immediately arises is what would have caused this change in battle-tactics? Undoubtedly, this “fighting march” would have been the answer to the threat posed by the Seljuks, an enemy that the Latins had faced at Doryleum in July 1097 and then again at Antioch in the summer of 1098.5 The Seljuk Turks were typical mounted steppe warriors who based their battle tactics on four major principles. First, they took advantage of their speed and mobility in the battle-field which was largely due to their equipment, armor and horses that were, according to a number of studies, much lighter that the Frankish. Their principal weapon was the bow, but they also carried a shield, lance and a sword. As for their armor, it is very difficult to know what they were wearing as defensive equipment in the later decades of the eleventh century. But the influence from the Byzantines was becoming strong and from the First Crusade the Latin chroniclers mention heavily armed knights with hauberks.6 They used their mobility to attack their enemies on the march and while on rough terrain 3

4

5 6

For a good introductory study on this topic, see: David Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, vol. 1 (London, 2007), pp. 60–70; to compare with the Byzantine marching formations of the tenth century, see E. McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth: Byzantine Warfare in the Tenth Century (Washington, D.C., 1995), pp. 329–41; J. Haldon, Warfare, State and Society in the Byzantine World, 565–1204 (London, 1999), pp. 154–66. I am grateful to Professor B. S. Bachrach for pointing out to me the possible classical influence of the Latin terms used by the chroniclers to provide information about the invasions of Lombard Italy by Pippin (754 and 756) and Charlemagne (774), and the latter’s retreat from Spain in 778. See: B. S. Bachrach, Early Carolingian Warfare: Prelude to Empire (Philadelphia, 2001), pp. 160ff; idem, “Charlemagne and the Carolingian General Staff,” The Journal of Military History 66 (2002), 313–57. France, Victory in the East, pp. 170–85; Oman, The Middle Ages AD 378–1485, 1: 273–79; Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 168–70; Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 3: 403. There is significant evidence to show that all these were much lighter than the western European ones: Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 77–8; France, Victory in the East, pp. 149, 204–5; Andrew Ayton, “Arms, Armour, and Horses,” in Medieval Warfare, ed. Maurice Keen (Oxford, 1999), pp. 190, 192–93; David Nicolle, “The Impact of European Couched Lance on Muslim Military Tradition,” Journal of the Arms & Armour Society 10 (1980), 13. Nicolle also mentions the very useful illustrations of a mid-eleventh-century Turkish manuscript named Warqa-wa-Gulshah. It is also possible that the Turks might have developed a kind of light crossbow to throw darts at their enemies to maximize their casualties: France, Victory in the East, p. 148, especially n. 23.



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and their primary objective was to encircle or outflank the main body of the enemy units using their numerical superiority – although this was not always the case, with their battle-tactics giving the impression they were numerically superior. Their attack was directed against the flanks and/or rear-guard of the column, forcing the units of their enemy to fight while walking backwards and being in great danger of being cut off from the rest of the army, in an attempt to break the cohesion of the Latins – a tactic which, of course, developed gradually during the twelfth century. Third, being expert mounted archers they were able to apply the tactic of feigned retreat. Releasing constant showers of arrows from a distance and falling back when their enemies charged forward to neutralize them, but then pretending to retreat, they would make a sudden turn and come back to harass them. Their aim was to confuse and demoralize the enemy, and to isolate and break up their formations before charging in with their swords and lances.7 The tactic of feigned retreat, however, was also frequently used in Western Europe as well in that period and before – Hastings (1066) and Messina (1061) can be seen as two characteristic examples from the eleventh century – and it was to be applied by the Latins in the Middle East as well. The significant difference, however, from the tactics used by the Turks was that the latter were maneuvering constantly and in great numbers, with their retreat lasting for the entire day or even days in order to weary their opponents and draw them to a well prepared ambush, like the disaster at Harran (1104) where Bohemond and Baldwin followed the Seljuk retreat into the sandy and hilly terrains east of Harran – a serious tactical error considering their experience in Middle Eastern warfare. According to our Latin sources, these steppe tactics were completely unknown to the majority of the Crusaders who certainly cannot have fought against any large Seljuk force before8 – with the most notable exception being Bohemond and men from his contingent.9 Thus, based on their experience in the previous 7

8

9

The most expert works on Seljuk warfare are: Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, 2: 107–69, especially pp. 139ff; Reuven Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks: The Mamluk-Ilkhanid War, 1260– 1281 (Cambridge, 2005); Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 75–83; Oman, The Art of War in the Middle Ages, 1: 206–19, 273–74; France, Victory in the East, pp. 147–49; J. Waterson, The Knights of Islam, the Wars of the Mamluks, (London, 2007), pp. 33–53, especially pp. 37–44. The most detailed and accurate chronicle account of the mid-twelfth century concerning the Seljuk fighting tactics: Anna Comnena, The Alexiad, trans. Elizabeth R. A. Sewter (London, 2003), XV. iii, pp. 479–80 (Alexiad). This is attested by: Gesta Francorum et aliorum Hierosolimitanorum. The Deeds of the Franks and the Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem, ed. Rosalind Hill (London, 1962), ix, p. 19; Fulcherius Carnotensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg, 1913), Book I: XI: 6, p. 194; William of Tyre, A History of the Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, trans. and ed. Emily A. Babcock and Augustus C. Krey (New York, 1976), vol. I, Book III, XIV, pp. 170–1; Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. and trans. Susan B. Edgington (Oxford, 2007), Book II, chapter 39, p. 130. Norman forces led by Robert Guiscard and his son Bohemond had defeated two thousand Turcopole troops in battle on the eve of the battle of Dyrrachium (October 1081). They had also faced Turcopole and Patzinak troops during their siege of Larisa (April–May 1083) in the same

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two years they decided to adopt a square formation of three divisions – not columns but most likely, lines10 – on each side, and mixed11 their cavalry and infantry units, probably placing an average of about 130 knights and 1,000 footsoldiers in each division. This, indeed, would have been very effective against the Seljuk battle tactics and would have allowed the Latins to avoid a surprise attack from the flanks or rear and form a solid mass formation of soldiers, with the infantry forming into the perimeter to protect the cavalry units in the center of the formation until the latter would have had the chance to break through and deliver the decisive blow to the Turks. However, the Crusaders were not about to face any Seljuk forces on their march to Ascalon but rather a Fatimid invasion army. Thus, we have to ask ourselves what was the make-up of the Egyptian armies in the late eleventh century and what similarities – if any – do we may detect between the fighting tactics of the latter and those of the Seljuks The armies of the Fatimids in Egypt were a composite and multinational force that based its power on mercenaries and large bodies of slave-soldiers like the Daylami infantrymen from northern Iran, Turkish and Kurdish cavalrymen, while they also included significant numbers of Bedouins, Sudanese foot-archers and non-Muslim elements like Armenians, Greeks and Slavs.12 Even though the Turkish element in the Fatimid armies had formed a powerful elite that was favored by the government of Cairo due to its specialization as mounted cavalry, they never played a dominant role. The black slave-soldiers from Sudan were much more numerous and their rivalry with the Turks in terms of ethnic origin, pay and prestige

10

11

12

Balkan campaign. See: Georgios Theotokis, “The Campaigns of the Norman Dukes of Southern Italy against Byzantium, in the Years between 1071 and 1108 A.D.” (PhD thesis, University of Glasgow, 2010), pp. 217, 247, 277ff. Also, western knights had fought against Muslims in Spain who used ancient Bedouin cavalry tactics like the repeated charges using javelins rather than bows and arrows: Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, 2: 143. I find Verbruggen’s argument that the crusaders formed three lines more convincing than Delbrück’s columns. See: Jan F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during the Middle Ages, trans. Sumner Willard and Mrs Richard W. Southern (Woodbridge, 1997), pp. 208–09; Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 3: 406–7. The argument that the units were mixed and that the infantry was not marching in front of the cavalry is reinforced by the Gesta: “At daybreak on Friday [12 August], each [of the commanding generals] drew up his own men, and foot-soldiers with archers were ordered to precede the knights.” Even though this statement by the anonymous author of the Gesta is not exactly clear, it probably means that during the march in the previous day the units were mixed, which seems to me more reasonable than having foot-soldiers preceding the knights for forty kilometres in two separate units: Gesta, p. 95. We also need to acknowledge here that putting infantry forward to protect the cavalry in the battle-field formations was common in that period – see the examples at Hastings (1066) and Dyrrachium (1081). For the organization, consistency and battle tactics employed by the Fatimids: McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, pp. 225–46; Oman, The Art of War, 1: 208–16; B. J. Beshir, “Fatimid Military Organization,” Der Islam, 55 (1978), 37–56; William J. Hamblin, “The Fatimid Army during the Early Crusades” (PhD thesis, University of Michigan, 1985); Yacov Lev, “Infantry in Muslim Armies during the Crusades,” in Logistics of Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, ed. John H. Pryor (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 185–206.



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frequently developed into civil wars. By the end of the eleventh century, Turkish mounted soldiers continued to be employed by the Fatimid Sultans, although not in the same numbers as in the previous periods.13 But our attention should be focused on the role of the Bedouin auxiliary troops in the Middle East, a corps of soldiers that regularly accompanied the armies of the Fatimids. This lightly armed cavalry wore little or no armor and were not armed with a bow but rather used a short lance,14 while they are attested in several cases to have been using very similar enveloping tactics to the Seljuks.15 In fact, according to Fulcher of Chartres, they were the ones who opened the battle at Ascalon by attacking the left flank of the Crusaders in an attempt to encircle them, thus the Muslims were described as “a stag lowering his head and extending his horns so as to encircle the aggressor with them.”16 They are identified in the Praecepta Militaria of Nicephoros Phocas with the term Arabitai (Αραβίται) to distinguish them from the rest of the Muslim units (Agarenoi, Αγαρηνοί), and we read about their battle tactics: “If the enemy proceeds in close order with their forces in proper formation, bringing along a vast host of cavalry and infantry, and their forces move in against one side of our units, the Arabitai will encircle our foursided [infantry] formation in a swarm, as they usually do, confident in their horses.”17 Further, we read in the late tenth-century military treatise On Tactics: “He [the leader of the rear-guard] should have them [his soldiers] ride around a distance to the rear, so they too can be on the lookout and prevent the enemy from making an unexpected attack from behind and to ward off the very bold onslaughts of Arabs and Turks.”18 In what we have seen so far, the fighting march of the Crusaders was the answer of the Latins to the threat posed by their enemies – in this case the Fatimids, whose corps of Bedouin soldiers applied similar fighting tactics to the Seljuks. But the major question is where we should trace their square (3x3) marching formation? The three-line formation was not something new for the 13 14 15

16

17 18

McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, pp. 238–39, 246–48; France, Victory in the East, pp. 359–60; Lev, “Medieval Egypt”, pp. 120–22. McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, p. 239; see also: David Nicolle, Arms and Armour of the Crusading Era, 1050–1350: Islam, Eastern Europe and Asia (London, 1999). Contrary to Smail, who says that “the Arab and Berber horsemen of the Egyptian armies did not fight in the same way as the Turks.” But Smail is only using Maurice’s Strategikon and Leo VI’s Tactica and completely ignores Phocas’ Praecepta, while his only Greek primary source is the Alexiad of Anna Comnena. See: Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 83–7, 174–75; for a detailed study of the Arab and Turkish encircling tactics, see: Nicolle, Crusader Warfare, 2: 122–51. Fulcherius Carnotensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, Book I, XXXI. 6, p. 314; France, based on the accounts of Raymond of Aguilers, the Gesta Francorum and the anonymous Chronicle of Damascus, has suggested that it was Tancred’s charge in the midst of the Egyptian army’s camp that opened the battle outside Ascalon: France, Victory in the East, pp. 363–64. Presentation and Composition on Warfare of the Emperor Nicephoros, II. 101–10, in Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, p. 28 (“The Praecepta Militaria”). The Anonymous Book on Tactics, in Three Byzantine Military Treatises, trans. George T. Dennis (Washington, D.C. and Dumbarton Oaks, 1985/latest edition: 2008), chapter 10, 27–36, pp. 280–81 (“On Tactics”).

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Latins in the East, although it was applied solely as a battle formation rather than a marching one. It had been used extensively by the Romans, who formed their phalanx formation based on the deployment of three lines of maniples;19 hastati, principes, triarii, as we read in detail in Vegetius’ Epitome of Military Science (c. A.D. 400).20 In fact, the 3,000-men strong Roman legion was divided – after the early third century BC – into three sections: the 1,200-strong hastati that formed the first line, the 1,200-strong second line called principes and the 600-strong third line of the triarii. Two classic examples from the second half of the eleventh century regarding the use of the three-line battle-formation are Hastings (1066) and Dyrrachium (1081). In the first case the Normans formed three divisions (left-flank, right-flank and center) each of which was divided into lines of cavalry, infantry and skirmishers, while the same formation was probably applied to Dyrrachium as well – even though we are not entirely sure if Guiscard had any archers with him.21 And we can find other examples of Crusader armies using a three-line battle formation, like the cases of Sarmin (1115), “Ager Sanguinis” (June 1119) and Hab (August 1119).22 But the threeline formation that we have seen so far was specifically a battle formation. Thus, our main question remains: from where were the Crusaders influenced in adopting a square (3x3) marching formation? In the following part of this study, I will look into the Byzantine military manuals of the tenth century in search of clues regarding any links between the Latin “fighting march” and the Byzantine order of march of the post-965 period. But before going into the examination of these manuals, I will begin with an introduction to their role, influence and background. The Byzantine military manuals formed the “legacy” of experienced and glorious generals in the warfare in the East. The Praecepta Militaria of Nicephoros Phocas was composed during the latter’s reign as emperor and probably in the year 965,23 representing the emperor’s view of the ideal battle tactics and formations of the units of the Imperial Army in its struggles against the Muslims in the third quarter of the tenth century. Phocas, however, almost certainly relied in two other contemporary texts (c. 950), whose ideas he did not simply copy but refined and expanded with a critical eye.24 Other works for this period 19

20

21 22 23 24

I use Delbrück’s term of maniples, as the author explains the significance of not having a straight and uninterrupted line in a phalanx formation (comparing the examples of the Macedonian and Roman phalanxes), but rather a line based on maniples which formed small intervals at regular points (the maniples were 20 men wide) that were filled just before the enemy approach. See: Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 1: 272–77. Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science, trans. Norman P. Milner (Liverpool, 2001) II. 15, pp. 47–49; see also Sextus Julius Frontinus’ Strategemata (first century A.D.): Frontinus, Stratagems, Aqueducts of Rome, trans. Charles E. Bennett, Loeb Classical Library (London, 1925) II. iii. 16. Theotokis, “The Campaigns of the Norman Dukes”, p. 219. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare, pp. 208–10. McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, p. 180. Sylloge tacticorum, quae olim Inedita Leonis Tactica dicebatur, ed. André Dain (Paris, 1938);



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include the treatise On Skirmishing, attributed probably to Nicephoros Phocas’ elder brother Leo – the strategos of the Cappadocian theme and later Domestic of the armies of the West – and written in or shortly after A.D. 969. Its context focuses on skirmishing and hit-and-run tactics applied by the Imperial forces in the eastern frontiers of the empire, thus reflecting the kind of small-scale and defensive warfare of the pre-963 period. The Taktika of Nicephoros Ouranos, composed by a senior general of Basil II “the Bulgarslayer” in the East and the Balkans during his governorship of Antioch between the years 999 and 1007,25 and the treatise On Tactics which was written most likely by the same officer sometime between the years 991 and 995 and is set in the operational theater of the Balkans complete our analyses. All of these texts and handbooks of the period set rather strict guidelines on the formations and operational role of different units of the Imperial Army, but they also allowed the commander a great deal of discretion in the field. They reflect the practice of older and well established strategies and tactics, along with a number of innovative ideas put into practice, and the task of the historian is to distinguish between the two. As the author of On Skirmishing notes: “We have acquired this knowledge not simply from hearing about it [from the old military manuals] but also from having been taught by a certain amount of experience.”26 To return to the theory regarding the link between the Crusaders’ “fighting march” and the Byzantine marching and battle formations of the tenth and eleventh centuries, the Taktika of Nicephoros Ouranos presents a detailed account of the standard Byzantine order of march, based on the mutual dependence of infantry and cavalry units. We read in the Taktika: The cavalry units should proceed in order, some to the right side, some to the left, some ahead, and some behind as rearguard. The infantry units should proceed in good order on the inside of the cavalry units, three chiliarchs with their contingents on the right side, three on the left, three in front, and three behind in the rear. You [general] must proceed in the middle so that you can offer support to whichever side the enemy attacks.27

However, this particular account on the early eleventh-century order of march cannot fully explain the three-by-three square formation of the Crusaders at Ascalon. If the latter had been influenced by Nicephoros’ Taktika then they

25

26 27

L’histoire du texte d’Elien le Tacticien, ed. André Dain (Paris, 1946), pp. 156–57; See also: E. McGeer, “The Syntaxis Armatorum Quadrata: A Tenth-Century Tactical Blueprint,” Revue des études byzantines 50 (1992), 219–29, for a detailed commentary on the work and possible links of the Syntaxis and the Sylloge with Aelian’s Tactica, Nicephoros’ Praecepta and Ouranos’ Taktika. The Taktika of Nicephoros Ouranos [chapters 56 through 65], in Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, pp. 88–163; Jean-Adré de Foucault, “Douze chapitres inédits de la tactique de Nicephore Ouranos,” Travaux et Memoires, 5 (1973) 281–312; Eric McGeer, “Tradition and Reality in the ‘Taktika’ of Nikephoros Ouranos,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 45 (1991), 129–140. “On Skirmishing”, 13–15, p. 146. “The Taktika of Nicephoros Ouranos”, 64. 30–39, p. 148; compare with: “On Tactics”, 10. 1–73, pp. 278–82.

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would have deployed their cavalry units as vanguard, rearguard and flank units with some 300 knights on each side of the formation, while 12,000 footsoldiers would have been marching on the inside of the aforementioned crossshaped formation – 3,000 on each side. Also, the 300 knights would most likely have been divided into six (3x2) units of 50 men each,28 accompanied by the 3,000 footsoldiers divided into three taxiarchies (drungi) of 1,000 men each. No square (3x3) formation is formed at any time, so I believe we must seek our answer elsewhere. A very tempting theory is that the Latin “fighting march” could have been influenced by the basic ground plan for a Byzantine camp of the late tenth century, as described once more by the contemporary military manuals. The historical sources contain several detailed descriptions of camps which reflect their structure and use in periods of warfare. According to the evidence from a great number of these manuals from as early as the sixth century,29 the preferred Byzantine camp’s ground plan was a square or rectangle with two entrances on each side of the camp and four major roads dividing the camp into nine sectors; other versions note three entrances on the east and west side and two on the north and south with five roads dividing the camp into twelve sectors. Square camp formations were encouraged by the tacticians in that they provided more security and they managed to counter the enemy’s numbers, since if the latter chose to besiege all four sides its force would be dispersed.30 A great change in the early Byzantine period came with the introduction of the centrally crossed roads which replaced the old Roman T-shaped intersection,31 and their number depended on how many divisions the general had. Now, if we shift our attention from the camp’s ground plan to the Byzantine infantry formations of this period, we will be able to detect many similarities between them. Writing about the ideal formation of the infantry when deployed with units of cavalry in the field, Nicephoros Phocas writes in his Praecepta: The formation of the infantrymen under discussion is to be a double-ribbed square, thus called “a four-sided formation” by the ancients, which has three units on each side so that all together there are twelve units on the four sides. In case the cavalry force

28 29

30 31

The 50-man cavalry unit as part of a 200-man bandum was introduced by Leo VI and it is mentioned in “Praecepta Militaria”, IV. 1–2, p. 38. Vegetius, Epitome of Military Science, III. 8, pp. 79–83; The Strategikon attributed to Emperor Maurice (582–602): Maurice’s Strategikon: Handbook of Byzantine Military Strategy, trans. George T. Dennis (Philadelphia, 1984), B. 22, pp. 158–62; the anonymous treatise On Strategy written during the reign of Justinian (527–65): On Strategy, in Three Byzantine Military Treatises, 28. 1–44, pp. 86–8; “On Tactics”, 1. 1–190, pp. 246–54. “On Tactics”, 1. 20–5, p. 246. The structure of a Roman camp was dominated by the via principalis, which linked the porta principalis sinistra (or porta praetoria) with the porta principalis dextra – in the middle of which was the general’s tent –, and the via praetoria which ran vertical to the via principalis. For this observation see the comments and the extensive bibliography provided by: McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth, p. 348, n. 31.



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is quite large and the enemy does not bring along a similar number of infantry, twelve intervals should be left open.

And the more important for our case is what immediately follows: “If, on the other hand, the cavalry force is not large and the enemy does bring infantry along, eight intervals should be left open.32 The similarities between the Byzantine plan of a camp and the typical infantry formation are more than obvious. In both cases we have a square formation divided by eight or more crossroads into a number of sectors depending on the nature of the terrain, the enemy’s forces and, more importantly, the number of infantry and cavalry units. As Nicephoros suggests, when a Byzantine general was short of cavalry units he could adjust his infantry formation to only eight intervals, meaning nine sections in all. This, of course, fits very well with the low number of knights the Crusaders had brought to Ascalon, in comparison with the 9,000 footsoldiers. But a fundamental question is how we can link the ground plan for a tenth-century camp to the marching formation of the Byzantine infantry. Once more, the answer lies with the writings of Nicephoros, in the chapter where he examines the encampment of the army: They [soldiers] must keep their places in the camp exactly as they set to deploy in battle formation, so that, in the event of a sudden report of the enemy, they will be found ready as though in battle formation.… Eight intervals must be left open in the army’s encampment so that three chiliarchs have two intervals. These must be in the shape of a cross on the four sides of the encampment … two roads from the east to west and two from north to south.33

The conclusion that we can draw from this paragraph is that the square in which the Byzantine infantry deployed for battle was patterned after the standard ground plan for encampments. During the decades-long struggle in Cilicia and Syria, from the 930s under the celebrated general John Curcuas,34 the Byzantines would have faced sudden attacks by the Muslims and would have needed to stay on high alert while camping on hostile ground. Attacks when least expected, and especially during the night,35 were not uncommon in Byzantium’s wars in Syria, thus what Nicephoros writes about the event of a sudden report of the enemy and the need for a rapid mobilization of the army’s units. The final issue has to do with the link between the tenth-century Byzantine army formations and the Crusader army of the late eleventh century. The trans32 33 34 35

“Praecepta Militaria”, I. 39–51, p. 14. “Praecepta Militaria”, V. 23–6, p. 52. For Curcuas’ achievements in the East, see: George Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State (Oxford, 1989), pp. 276–77. The author of On Tactics devotes two chapters to night attacks against enemy camps. See: “On Tactics,” 12, 25, pp. 282–83, 312–14; for what the early Abbasid military manual of the tactician Al-Harthami has to say about night attacks and in what degree it encourages such attacks, see: Umar Ibn Ibrahim al-Awsi al Ansari, A Muslim Manual of War: Being Tafrij al Kurub fi Tadbir al Hurub, trans. and ed. George T. Scanlon (Cairo, 1961), p. 93.

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mission of knowledge in military affairs from the East to the West can be attributed to the large numbers of mercenaries from countries like France, Germany and England that were employed by the Byzantine emperors from the 1030s.36 Three hundred Normans from southern Italy took part in the empire’s expedition against the Sicilian Arabs in 1038, being transported by units of the Imperial Navy and marching with elite units of the Byzantine Army for three years,37 with a significant number of them and their descendants being identified by Anna Comnena as late as 1078.38 Individual Frankish mercenaries are recorded in the Byzantine payrolls as early as 1047,39 facing a variety of enemies like the steppe tribes of the Patzinaks and the Cumans in the Balkans and, since the 1050s, the Seljuks in Armenia and the Taurus mountains.40 Famous officers include the names of Hérve, Robert Crispin and Roussel of Bailleuil; all of them being active mostly in north-eastern Asia Minor between the 1050s and 1080s.41 Although the length of this paper does not allow me to go into more detail, there are several examples from this period where contemporary chroniclers mention Frankish regiments being deployed alongside units of the Byzantine army and the famous Varangian Guard. In addition, the German regiment of the Nemitzoi was present at Matzikert (1071),42 Anglo-Saxon mercenaries gradually replaced the Scandinavian element in the Varangian Guard in the 1080s–90s43 while in 36

37

38 39

40 41

42 43

Smail seriously underestimates the significance of the presence of thousands of Western troops in Imperial service from the second quarter of the eleventh century. Even more surprisingly, when he mentions some of the battles where the Frankish troops were deployed alongside the Imperial units, he only mentions the years 1138, 1164 and 1169. See: Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 122–23. Michele Amari, Storia dei Musulmani di Sicilia, 3 vols. (Catania, 1935), 3: 438–55; Jean Gay, L’Italie méridionale et l’Empire Byzantin depuis l’avènement de Basile Ier jusqu’à la prise de Bari par les Normands (867–1071) (Paris, 1904), pp. 450–54; Graham Loud, The Age of Robert Guiscard: Southern Italy and the Norman Conquest (London, 2000), pp. 78–80; F. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination normande en Italie et en Sicile, 2 vols. (Paris, 1907), 1: 88–96. They were mentioned as “Maniakatoi” from the name of the general of the Sicilian expedition, George Maniaces. Alexiad, I. iv-vi, pp. 39–48. Leo Tornikius’ rebellion: Ioannes Skylitzes, Synopsis historiarum, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, ed. I. Thurn (Berlin, 1973), vol. I, p. 439–40; Anonymus Barenses, Chronicon, Rerum Italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici Italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento, ordinata da L.A. Muratori, Lapi, Città di Castello, 1900–, v. 151, s.a. 1047; The History of Psellus, ed. with critical notes by Constantine Sathas (London, 1899), pp. 140–41. Although they were mostly used to man towns and castles because of the steppe tactics of the Patzinaks in the Balkans and the Seljuks in the East. For the career of these three Franks, the most basic works are: Jonathon Shepard, “The Uses of the Franks in Eleventh-Century Byzantium,” Anglo-Norman Studies 15 (1993), 275–305; Alicia J. Simpson, “Three Sources of Military Unrest in Eleventh-Century Asia Minor: The Norman Chieftains Hérve Frankopoulos, Robert Crispin and Roussel of Bailleul,” Mesogeios/ Mediterranée 9–10 (2000), 181–207. For this German unit: John Haldon, The Byzantine Wars: Battles and Campaigns of the Byzantine Era (Stroud, 2000), p. 114. Alexander A. Vasiliev, “The Opening Stages of the Anglo-Saxon Immigration to Byzantium in the Eleventh Century,” Annales de l’Institute Kondakov 9 (1937), 39–70; Jonathon Shepard, “The English and Byzantium: A Study of Their Role in the Byzantine Army in the Later



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the spring of 1090, Robert I of Flanders sent five hundred Flemish knights to Alexius Comnenus after being asked for military assistance the year before.44 Next year, in 1091, we find Frankish troops fighting alongside the Imperial Army and the Cumans against the steppe tribe of the Patzinaks at Mount Levounion.45 Also, the Norman army consisted of experienced knights who had faced Byzantine troops in battle – from the Italian “expansion” (1041–71) to Dyrrachium (1081–84) – while Bohemond had fought against Turcopoles during his first campaign against Dyrrachium fifteen years previously.46 Further, if we are to believe the author of the Historia Belli Sacri, both Tancred and Richard of Principate and possibly a number of their followers knew Arabic,47 something rare for the armies of the First Crusade. Also, it is highly likely that Bohemond himself spoke Greek. And last, our most important clue of this theory, we read in the Alexiad of Anna Comnena that the Crusader leaders, while staying in the capital before proceeding to besiege Nicaea in the spring of 1097, “were instructed in the methods normally used by the Turks in battle; told how they should draw up their battle-line, how to lay ambushes; advised not to pursue too far when the enemy ran away in flight.”48 If we examine the pitched battles between the Muslims and the Latin armies of the first generation of the Crusaders, we can identify two possible cases where the Latins used the “square fighting march.” At the battle of Hab,49 on 14 August 1119, Latin forces clashed with the Seljuk army of the Emirs Toktagin of Damascus and Il-Ghazi of Mardin. Certain that a battle would take place on the morning of 14 August , the Crusaders formed their ranks in a three-by-three line formation,50 with each division numbering about eighty to ninety knights

44 45

46

47

48 49

50

Eleventh Century,” Traditio 29 (1973), 53–92; John Godfrey, “The Defeated Anglo-Saxons Take Service with the Eastern Emperor,” Anglo-Norman Studies 1 (1978), 68–70. France, Victory in the East, p. 81. These Frankish troops were under the command of Constantine Humbertopoulos, a trusted Imperial officer who was a nephew of Robert Guiscard and had fought against his uncle at Dyrrachium in 1081. See: Alexiad, VIII. v, p. 257. Theotokis, “The Raids of the Norman Dukes of Southern Italy”, pp. 217, 247, 277ff; idem, “The Norman Invasion of Sicily (1061–1072): Numbers and Military Tactics,” War in History 17 (2010), 382–402. Historia Belli Sacri, R.H.C. Oc., vol. 67, p. 198; for the spread of the Arabic culture and language in Sicily up to the 1060s, see: A. Metcalfe, “The Muslims of Sicily under Christian Rule,” The Society of Norman Italy, ed. Graham A. Loud and Alexander Metcalfe (Leiden, 2002), pp. 289–317, especially pp. 289–93. Alexiad, X. xi, vol. II, pp. 67–8; Sewter, p. 329. The most detailed of our primary sources about the battle and the Latin battle formations is: Walter the Chancellor, The Antiochene Wars, trans. Thomas S. Asbridge and Susan B. Edgington (Aldershot, 1999), II. 12, pp. 152–56; Other sources include: Fulcherius Carnotensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, Book III, IV. 1–4, pp. 624–29; William of Tyre, A History of the Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, vol. I, XII.12, pp. 532–35; the main secondary works are: Oman, The Art of War, 1: 297–300; Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 180–81; Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 3: 409; Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare, pp. 209–11. Delbrück disputes Heerman’s description of linear formations: Delbrück, History of the Art of

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and all the infantry placed in the front rank marching behind the cavalry. We read in Walter the Chancellor’s account: Nine battle-lines were drawn up … [they] set out enthusiastically on the march, proceeding in this order: three lines [of cavalry] were placed in the vanguard and the infantry was positioned to the rear, so that they could protect them and be protected by them; the royal force [of Baldwin II], prepared for the protection of the former and the latter; the line of the Count of Tripoli was placed on the right, with the barons’ [of Antioch] lines on the left.

Verbruggen argues that there was no rear-guard and that the flank units of Robert Fulcoy on the left and Pons of Tripoli on the right constituted the second line which extended the front of the Latin army. Oman and Smail, however, believe that there was another body of Antiochene barons that was put behind Baldwin’s divisions, thus forming the third line of the Latin army. Whatever the case though, this was certainly not the square formation that was seen at Ascalon exactly twenty years before. It resembles more the cavalry formation dictated by Leo VI in his Tactica of two lines of three and four divisions respectively, which were supported by two units of νωτοφύλακες (flank-guards) that were posted on the sides but slightly behind the second line of cavalry.51 The armies of Baldwin II and Toktagin of Damascus met for a second time some seven years later, not far from Damascus at a place called Marj-es-Safar on 25 January 1126. Our main Latin source, Fulcher of Chartres, is vague in his narrative and it all depends on how we translate his comments: “Soon after, our horse and foot were organized in twelve divisions, in such a way that each could support the other, if neccessary.”52 The Latin alteruter means either or one of two and Fulcher is most likely referring to the infantry supporting the cavalry in each division and not each of the twelve divisions supporting each other. Thus, is it possible that Baldwin put his army in the field forming a rectangle which was three divisions long and four deep, or the other way around? Judging by the large number of infantry that the Turks had raised, although no estimates are given by either Fulcher or Ibn-al-Qalanisi we understand that the atabeg of Damascus had brought with him “a great host from the armed bands and untried youths of Damascus”,53 and by the topography of the area close to the city of Damascus which would certainly not have allowed the Latin army much room to maneuver, that the most likely formation would have been the three-long and four-deep rectangle. As we have already seen, Phocas presents this formation as

51 52

53

War, 3: 409; Otto G. L. Heerman, Die Gefechtsfuhrung abenlandischer Heere im Orient in der Epoche des ersten Kreuzzugs (Marburg, 1887), pp. 89–95. Leo VI, Tactica, Patrologia Cursus Completus – Series Graeca, vol. 107, ed. J. P. Migne (Paris, 1863), constitution XII, cols. 1–30. “Ordinatae sunt tam militum quam peditum acies duodecim, ut ab alterutra corroboretur caterva, si necessitas admoneret.” Fulcherius Carnotensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, Book III, L. 7, p. 789. Ibn-al-Qalanisi, The Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, extracted and translated by Hamilton A. R. Gibb (London, 1932), p. 175.



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a different version of the square fighting march for narrow battle-ground and in the case when the enemy brings along a similar number of infantry. What we have concluded so far is that, although it was beyond any doubt an innovative idea on the part of the Crusaders, we can trace the influence for the marching formation of the Latin army before the battle of Ascalon to the Byzantine experience in warfare gained during the Byzantine expansionist wars in Syria in the mid tenth century. Several tactical innovations can be identified in the structure and performance of the Byzantine army itself on the battlefields of this period, as reflected in the writings of contemporary military tacticians. One of them was the formation of the infantry, which was patterned after the standard ground plan of a military camp, a square divided by four crossroads into nine sectors. Although we have to doubt as to the direct influence that these Byzantine manuals had on the Latins, the latter were certainly “exposed” to the Byzantine military practices and battle tactics. And this knowledge in military affairs and, most importantly, the experience in fighting an enemy that had a number of common characteristics with the Seljuks, were transmitted to the Latin armies of the First Crusade by the thousands of mercenaries who were employed by the Byzantine emperors from the 1030s. It seems strange that the Crusaders did not use this marching formation on other occasions, like in the catastrophic defeat at Harran in 1104,54 but we have to bear in mind that other factors played a significant role as well. I will base my analysis of the suitability of the “square fighting march” in the Middle East on three major points: the topography of the region, the leadership of the Latin armies and the degree of discipline and experience of the troops, especially the infantry. Much attention is paid to the topography of the battle-field by Nicephoros Phocas who, as I have mentioned, proposes different versions of his standard infantry formation for both flat and narrow terrain.55 The “square fighting march” was ideal for open and relatively flat terrain and not suitable at all for mountainous or hilly areas. Considering that the key features of the topography of Syria and Palestine are a narrow coastal strip, broader in the south than in the north, a belt of mountains running parallel to the coastal roads and small inland plains and plateaux that stretch east to the desert, this particular battle formation applied by the Crusaders en route to Ascalon – one of the few areas that favor marching formations with a relatively broad front – was far from ideal for the Levant.56 Since discipline and morale in an army largely depend on its command and the abilities of its leadership, it is easy to understand the direct correlation between the leadership in a Latin army and its performance in a battlefield. It is true that 54 55 56

Oman, The Art of War, 1: 321–24. “Praecepta Militaria”, II. 151–91, pp. 30–3. For the topography of the Middle East: Naval Intelligence Division, Syria, Geographical Handbook Series (London, 1943); Mark Whittow, “The Political Geography of the Byzantine World – Geographical Survey,” in The Oxford Handbook of Byzantine Studies, ed. Elizabeth Jeffreys, John Haldon and Richard Cormack (Oxford, 2008), pp. 219–31.

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there were significant periods in the twelfth century when the Latins were not under a unified command. Two characteristic examples are those of the Second and Third Crusade with the absence of a dominant figure between the various kings exacerbating the lack of an ambitious strategy. In addition, political strife in the kingdom of Jerusalem could undermine the unity of the high command, an example being the battle of Hattin (1187) that followed the “regency crisis” in the Kingdom between Guy de Lusignan and Raymond of Tripoli in 1186–87. If we consider the twelfth century as a whole, however, it was typical on the part of the Crusaders to submit to a single leadership under the kings of Jerusalem. In the case of the period before the battle of Ascalon, Bohemond had emerged as the charismatic leader of the First Crusade that led the Latin army at Doryleum, Harem and Antioch. Bohemond of Taranto was an experienced knight in the fighting in the East, having faced Byzantine and Turkish troops in his campaigns in Byzantine Illyria in 1081–84, and he showed great commanding abilities and strategic thinking in organizing an ambush against the Seljuks of Aleppo in 1098 or proposing the battle plan of the Crusader army at Antioch in the same year, always keeping a tactical reserve with him and using the topography of the battlefield to cover the flanks of his army. But for troops to perform a march through enemy territory, keeping a square formation of nine units of mixed infantry and cavalry also required a great degree of experience and training in the field, mostly on the part of the footsoldiers who were less maneuverable than the horsemen. I have mentioned the fact that the majority of the Latin armies of the First Crusade were ignorant of the fighting tactics of the Seljuks, but their bloody experience at Doryleum and their march through Asia Minor certainly proved extremely useful. Thus, by the early summer of 1098, the Latin East would experience for the first time the mixed units of infantry and cavalry where the foot-soldiers acquired a fundamental role in Middle East warfare. However, we should underline the fact that by this stage of the Crusade the infantry would have evolved into a quite formidable fighting unit – with better armor protection as well – which was most needed in the East. This comment does not suggest that the footsoldiers of the First Crusade were a mere rabble of untrained men when they crossed to Asia Minor in 1097, but that it took several months of intense interaction with the Turks to develop into a cohesive and disciplined unit.57 A final key question that has to be analyzed, based on the aforementioned conclusions about the suitability of the “square fighting march” in the Middle East, is why the Crusaders did not adopt this marching formation sooner, from the point they marched southwards from Nicaea to the Anatolian plateau? In addition to those already highlighted, several other factors need to be consid57

France, Victory in the East, pp. 294–96; idem, “Technology and the Success of the First Crusade,” in War and Society in the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. Yacov Lev, (Leiden, 1997), pp. 174–75; Smail believes that the idea of a developing infantry force is unsatisfactory and that the footsoldiers at Doryleum were a force fit for war, although he bases his argument solely on the Anonymous’ account: Smail, Crusading Warfare, pp. 115–20.



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ered: the topography of the regions from which the Crusaders marched through in the summer of 1097 clearly made a three-by-three square – or even three-byfour rectangle – marching formation almost impossible. We have to add to this the sheer numbers involved in the march to Doryleum – some 50,000 troops divided in two large groups (vanguard and rearguard of about 20,000 and 30,000 men respectively)58 – in contrast with the 1,200 knights and 9,000 footsoldiers marching south to Ascalon. Further, the Crusaders in 1099 had to march some forty kilometers to reach the Egyptian camp after having received intelligence about the exact whereabouts of their enemy. In striking contrast, the huge Latin host marching south from Nicaea had to cover a distance that took them two days (28–30 June) at a daily rate of no more than twenty-five to thirty kilometers.59 Even by the standards of a modern army it would have been extremely difficult to have several units of hundreds or even thousands of soldiers each marching through rough terrain for two days in close marching formation with tanks and mobile infantry units. If we add to this the large numbers of civilians and the baggage train that certainly would have accompanied each contingent of the Latin Army,60 the lack of intelligence regarding the presence of an enemy army – at least before the evening of 30 June – and the lack of any overall commander as we have already seen, we can understand why the “square fighting march” could not have been used in these early stages of the Crusade.

58 59 60

France, Victory in the East, p. 170. France, Victory in the East, pp. 170–71. For the civilian casualties, see: France, Victory in the East, p. 170, n. 82; p. 181, n. 104.

4 How the Crusades Could Have Been Won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem’s Campaigns against Aleppo (1124–5) and Damascus (1129) T. S. Asbridge

In the wake of the First Crusaders’ conquest of Jerusalem on 15 July 1099, four Latin Christian (or “Frankish”) settlements were established in the Near East – the so-called “crusader states” of the kingdom of Jerusalem, the principality of Antioch and the counties of Edessa and Tripoli. For the next two centuries, western European settlers and crusaders sought to defend these isolated polities – “the lands beyond the sea”, or “Outremer”, as they were known collectively in the Middle Ages – struggling to preserve Latin Christendom’s fragile foothold in the Holy Land. Ultimately they failed. Frankish fortunes waned after the first flush of success and, as the Muslim powers of the Near East began to claw back territory, the power of the crusader states diminished. Outremer’s dismemberment was gradual, but seemingly inexorable. The loss of Edessa to the Turkish warlord Zangi in 1144 led to the eradication of the first crusader state. The Ayyubid Sultan Saladin captured Jerusalem in 1187 and, barring a brief period of recovery, the Holy City remained in the hands of Islam until the twentieth century. With the advent of the more bellicose Mamluk sultanate in the mid-thirteenth century, the pace of Muslim reconquest accelerated: Antioch fell in 1268; Tripoli in 1289; and finally Acre in 1291. With that, the last vestiges of Latin rule on the Levantine mainland disappeared.1 So much we know beyond contestation. But the overall causes of western Christendom’s eventual failure in what might be termed “the war for the Holy Land” remain open to debate. An array of factors can be readily identified – from increases in Muslim unity, to the basic fact of Outremer’s geographical location on the fringes of the Latin European sphere of influence – though the rela-

1

A short selection of general histories covering the crusading era includes: Hans Eberhard Mayer, The Crusades, trans. John Gillingham, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1988); Jean Richard, The Crusades, c. 1071–c. 1291, trans. Jean Birrell (Cambridge, 1999); John France, The Crusades and the Expansion of Catholic Christendom 1000–1714 (Abingdon, 2005); Christopher Tyerman, God’s War: A New History of the Crusades (London, 2006); Thomas Asbridge, The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land (London, 2010).

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tive balance between these various forces surely will continue to be disputed.2 We also might question whether the Franks could ever have achieved lasting victory in the East. If this were taken to mean the permanent conquest and settlement of the Holy Land, enduring through the early modern and modern periods until today, then the answer would almost certainly be negative. More usefully, we might ponder whether the inherent security and potential longevity of the crusader states could ever have been significantly increased, and their future thus extended by decades or even a century. In this article I will suggest that there was at least one approach that could have yielded such results, thereby transforming the history of the crusades as we now know it – the conquest of Aleppo and Damascus, the great cities of Muslim Syria. I will argue that a single Frankish ruler, King Baldwin II of Jerusalem (1118–31), recognized this strategic reality and therefore made a concerted attempt to seize both sites between 1125 and 1129. Baldwin came remarkably close to achieving victory and, perhaps most intriguingly, he did so with the assistance of Muslim allies. The Balance of Power in the Near East In territorial terms, the crusader states were at their apogee in the early to mid twelfth century. The Franks followed the initial successes of the First Crusade with two decades of conquest and consolidation, moulding what had begun as a mere patchwork of isolated outposts into unitary states, such that Latin rule stretched in an unbroken arc from the River Euphrates to the shores of Red Sea. Yet, with the exception of Transjordan in the south and Edessa to the north, the Franks were always confined to a relatively narrow, elongated strip of territory that hugged the Mediterranean coastline. This left mile upon mile of exposed borders to protect and no real safety zone or secure heartland to fall back on, because almost any part of Outremer could be reached by an invading enemy force within one or two days. An obvious, but nonetheless overriding, consideration exacerbated this uncomfortable situation. The Latin East was hemmed in by three adjacent centres of Muslim power – Cairo, Damascus and Aleppo – the last two of which lay barely twenty-five miles from Frankish land. The presence of such potent enemies, so close at hand, fundamentally undermined Christian security and lay at the root of the crusader states’ systemic instability. The Latins could hope to subsist in this strategically precarious position, clinging to their Levantine foothold by relying upon negotiation, diplomacy, commercial interdependence and intermittent military confrontation to maintain an uneasy balance of power with Islam. But arguably, to achieve enduring viability, the Frankish settlements in the Holy Land needed to expand territorially and, eventually, to overthrow one or more of Outremer’s neighboring adversaries.

2

France, The Crusades, pp. 333–35; John France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades (London, 1999), pp. 204–29; Asbridge, The Crusades, pp. 660–64.



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In the 1120s Baldwin II seems to have embraced this strategic conclusion, targeting first Aleppo and then Damascus. King Baldwin originally hailed from the Ardennes region of France and usually is associated with the toponym “Bourcq.” He was the son of Count Hugh I of Rethel and a kinsman of leading First Crusaders Godfrey of Bouillon and Baldwin of Boulogne. Baldwin of Bourcq participated as a relatively minor figure in the expedition to the Holy Land, and then was appointed as count of Edessa in 1100, a position which he held until 1118, when he assumed the kingship of Jerusalem.3 By the early 1120s Baldwin II was essentially the overlord of the entire Latin East. He retained a close connection to the county of Edessa, where his former vassal Joscelin of Courtenay, lord of Tell Bashir, succeeded him as count. Baldwin also exerted a strong degree of influence over Count Pons of Tripoli and, after the death of Roger of Salerno at the battle of the Field of Blood in 1119, Baldwin assumed the regency of the principality of Antioch.4 It often has been suggested that the king struggled to balance and fulfill these responsibilities, but in some respects at least he seems to have reveled in his role.5 Drawing upon the unprecedented scope of his authority over the crusader states, Baldwin II pursued a remarkably ambitious and aggressive policy of territorial expansion that saw him attempt the seizure of Aleppo in 1124–5 and Damascus in 1129. No such concerted attacks had ever before been mounted, and the challenges to be faced and the risks involved were substantial. Possessing strongly fortified citadels, both Aleppo and Damascus were well equipped to resist siege or assault. Even if they could be conquered, sizeable reserves of already scarce Frankish manpower would be needed to secure their occupation and defense. Additional ideological difficulties existed. Neither city was of marked religious consequence to Christians and thus, as objectives, lacked the compelling devotional allure to match that which had driven the crusaders’ seizure and settlement of the Holy Land itself. For Islam, however, Damascus in particular resonated with historical and spiritual significance, and the loss of either Syrian capital could be expected to provoke a concerted Muslim counter-offensive.6 Nonetheless, Latin success offered the tantalizing possibility of reshaping the prospects and character of the Frankish Levant. For if the limit of Christian rule could be pushed eastwards to these two centers, a substantial buffer zone would be created between the heartland of the Latin states and the Muslim powers of Mesopotamia. The political turmoil afflicting Muslim Syria also offered Baldwin II an opportunity to act, with rival Turkish

3 4 5 6

Alan V. Murray, The Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem: A Dynastic History 1099–1125 (Oxford, 2000), pp. 120–50, 185–86. Ibid., pp. 132–35; Thomas Asbridge, The Creation of the Principality of Antioch (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 143–46. Hans Eberhard Mayer, “Jérusalem et Antioche au temps de Baudoin II,” Comptes-Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Nov.-Déc. 1980 (Paris, 1980), 717–33. Jonathan P. Phillips, The Second Crusade: Extending the Frontiers of Christendom (London, 2007), pp. 223–25.

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and Arab dynasties contending control of Aleppo in the mid-1120s, and the Shiite Muslim Assassins unsettling the established Burid dynasty in Damascus after 1126.7 King Baldwin II’s offensives against Aleppo and Damascus have received some scholarly attention, although much of this has been limited to the basic reconstruction of narrative.8 Little attempt has been made to evaluate Baldwin’s methods and intentions, or to assess the geo-strategic implications of either of his campaigns.9 Perhaps most significantly of all, the two expeditions have never been carefully considered together and thus historians have failed to recognise that they represented a concerted and noteworthy drive towards expansion on Baldwin’s part.10 In most recent historiography they are barely afforded a mention, even though they were two of the most important military operations ever undertaken by the Levantine Franks, and in spite of the fact that both stand out as prominent examples of Latin-Muslim cooperation during the crusading era.11

7

8

9

10

11

Claude Cahen, “The Turkish Invasion: The Selchükids,” A History of the Crusades, ed. Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd ed., 6 vols. (Madison, 1969), 1: 135–76; Carole Hillenbrand, “The Career of Najm al-Din Il-Ghazi,” Der Islam 58 (1981), 250–92; Peter M. Holt, The Age of the Crusades: The Near East from the Eleventh Century to 1517 (London, 1986), pp. 1–22; Taef el-Azhari, The Saljuqs of Syria during the Crusades 463–549 A.H./1070–1154 A.D. (Berlin, 1997); JeanMichel Mouton, Damas et sa principauté sous les Saljoukides et les Bourides 468–549/1076– 1154 (Cairo, 1994); Mariam Yared-Riachi, La politique extérieure de la principauté de Damas, 468–549 A.H./1076–1154 A.D. (Damascus, 1997). W. B. Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East (Cambridge, 1907), pp. 111–12, 126–28; René Grousset, Histoire des Croisades et du Royaume Franc de Jérusalem, 3 vols. (Paris, 1934),1: 623–31, 657–65; Claude Cahen, La Syrie du Nord à l’époque des Croisades et la Principauté Franque d’Antioche (Paris, 1940), pp. 299–301; Steven Runciman, “The Kingdom of Jerusalem and the Frankish East 1100–1187,” A History of the Crusades, vol. 2 (Cambridge, 1952), pp. 171–73, 179–80; Robert L. Nicholson, Joscelyn I, Prince of Edessa (Urbana, 1954), pp. 71–3; Robert L. Nicholson, “The Growth of the Latin States 1118–1144,” A History of the Crusades, ed. K. M. Setton, 2nd ed., 6 vols. (Madison, 1969), 1: 423–25, 430–31; Michael A. Köhler, Allianzen und Verträge Zwischen Frankischen und Islamischen Herrschern in Vorderen Orient (Berlin, 1991), pp. 146–62, 168–69. I would argue that, where an assessment has been offered, the broader strategic significance has been missed. Jonathan P. Phillips, Defenders of the Holy Land. Relations between the Latin West and East, 1119–87 (Oxford, 1996), p. 23, explained the Damascus campaign in terms of the “serious threat” that the city posed to Frankish Palestine, while noting that it also was “a wealthy place,” and failed to examine the potential territorial consequences of the offensive. The modern historiography of the crusader states has always tended to focus upon the kingdom of Jerusalem. As a result, the 1129 Damascus campaign has frequently been treated in isolation and emphasized over the earlier Aleppan offensive. Thus Grousset [Histoire des Croisades, 1: 657–58] recognized that the conquest of Damascus might have led to a significant expansion of Frankish territory beyond the confines of the Levantine coast, but he failed to connect this ambition with Baldwin’s activities in 1124–25. R. C. Smail, Crusading Warfare 1097–1193 (Cambridge, 1956), pp. 30, 34, 135 and 182; Richard, The Crusades, pp. 146–47; Tyerman, God’s War, p. 264; France, Western Warfare, p. 220; Asbridge, The Crusades, p. 172.



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The Siege of Aleppo (1124–5) King Baldwin II of Jerusalem was taken prisoner by Balak of Aleppo on 18 April 1123 and spent the next sixteen months in captivity.12 With Balak’s death, rule in Aleppo passed to his cousin Husam al-Din Timurtash, son of the Artuqid prince Il-ghazi of Mardin. By the summer of 1124 the new emir Timurtash had agreed terms of ransom for Baldwin II, and the king was duly released on 29 August.13 Some of the details of this agreement have already been examined by historians, most notably the ransom sum (a total of 100,000 gold bezants, with 20,000 paid upfront) and territorial concessions specified, and the important intermediary role played by the Muslim emir Abu’l Asakir ibn Munqidh of Shaizar.14 However, two additional features of Baldwin’s release merit close scrutiny, because they have direct bearing upon the subsequent siege of Aleppo. First, a number of Latin Christian hostages were placed in the stewardship of the Munqidhs at Shaizar, as guarantors that Baldwin would fulfill the financial and territorial terms of release promised. These hostages included Baldwin’s youngest daughter Yvetta (then perhaps four or five years old), Joscelin I’s son and some twelve other persons.15 A further clause was not recorded in any Latin Christian source, and survives

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Fulcher of Chartres, Historia Hierosolymitana (1095–1127), ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg, 1913), pp. 749–52; Ibn al-Qalanisi, The Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, Extracted and Translated from the Chronicle of Ibn al-Qalanisi, trans. Hamilton A. R. Gibb (London, 1932), p. 167; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir for the Crusading Period from al-Kamil fi’l-Ta’rikh, trans. Donald S. Richards, 3 vols. (Aldershot, 2006), 1: 246–47; Kamal ad-Din Ibn al-Adim, “La Chronique d’Alep,” Recueil des Historiens des Croisades, Historiens Orientaux, ed. Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 5 vols. (Paris, 1884), 3: 635–36 [hereafter cited as “Ibn al-Adim”]. This was the Turkish warlord Nur ad-Daulah Balak ibn Bahram ibn Artuq, who briefly ruled Harran and Aleppo. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 643; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, Tenth to Twelfth Centuries: The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, trans. A. E. Dostourian (Lanham, MD, 1993), pp. 232–33; Usama ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, trans. Paul M. Cobb (London, 2008), p. 132; Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 749–51; William of Tyre, Chronicon, ed. Robert B. C. Huygens, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis, 63–63A (Turnhout, 1986), p. 603; Orderic Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. M. Chibnall, 6 vols. (Oxford, 1975), 6:127; Michael the Syrian, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, patriarche jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199), ed. and trans. J. B. Chabot, 3 vols. (Paris, 1905), 3: 225; Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, “The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle,” ed. and trans. A. S. Tritton and H. A. R. Gibb, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 92 (1933), 96. Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 84–7; Yvonne Friedman, Encounter between Enemies: Capivity and Ransom in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Leiden, 2002), p. 158, offered surprisingly limited examination of Baldwin II’s second period in Muslim captivity (1123–24) and his eventual ransom, despite the relatively plentiful primary sources for these events. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 644; Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 750–51; William of Tyre, p. 606; Matthew of Edessa, pp. 232–33, recorded fifteen additional hostages and gave the date of Baldwin’s release as 30 August 1124. It should be noted that other prisoners held in Aleppo, including Galeran of Le Puiset, the Latin lord of the fortress of al-Bira, and an otherwise unknown individual described as “the son of King Baldwin II’s sister,” remained in captivity. Matthew of Edessa stated that they “remained in Timurtash’s clutches and were ultimately put to death.”

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only in the Arabic chronicle of Aleppo written by Kamal al-Din Ibn al-Adim.16 According to this testimony, Baldwin II agreed, in return for his release, to become Timurtash’s ally, and was said to have sworn to “work to defeat” the emir’s enemy, Dubais ibn Sadaqa.17 Such an arrangement was not without precedent. Baldwin had forged just such a pact with Juwuli Saqao of Mosul while still count of Edessa in 1108, as part of terms of his release after four years in Muslim captivity, and this agreement culminated in at least one period of active military cooperation.18 Timurtash’s target in 1124, Dubais ibn Sadaqa (d. 1134), was an ambitious Arab Bedouin warlord who ruled the Mazyad tribe and held a semi-independent lordship in lower Iraq centered on the fortress of al-Hilla. Like his father Saif al-Daula Sadaqa ibn Mazyad (1086–1107) before him, Dubais had a long track record of resisting Seljuq Turkish domination.19 Dubais’ frequent raids into the environs of Baghdad during the early 1120s earned him the enmity of the Abbasid caliph, and by 1124 he had been temporarily driven out of Mesopotamia. He arrived in Syria looking to improve his fortunes, to exploit the chaotic political struggles then gripping the region, and to capitalise upon a link forged with Aleppo by his earlier marriage to one of Il-ghazi of Mardin’s daughters. The chronicler Ibn al-Adim noted that Dubais began targeting Aleppo during the summer of 1124, plotting to overthrow the rule of his brother-in-law Timurtash by paying insurgents within the city to engineer a coup.20 This scheme was discovered and foiled, but by the end of August 1124 Timurtash apparently hoped that his newly agreed alliance with King Baldwin II would help to counter Dubais’ further intrigues. The Aleppan emir was to be sorely disappointed.

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On Kamal al-Din Ibn al-Adim’s life and works see: Carole Hillenbrand, “Sources in Arabic,” Byzantines and Crusaders in Non-Greek Sources, ed. Mary Whitby (Oxford, 2007), pp. 317–18, 328; Sami Dahan, “Ibn al-Adim,” in Historians of the Middle East, ed. Bernard Lewis and Peter M. Holt (London, 1962), pp. 111–13; David Morray, An Ayyubid Notable and His World. Ibn al-Adim and Aleppo as Portrayed in His Biographical Dictionary of People Associated with the City (Leiden, 1994). Ibn al-Adim, 3: 643, 645. Ibn al-Adim also portrayed relations between Baldwin and Timurtash in a positive light during the summer of 1124, noting that the Muslim ruler gave the king lavish gifts of a royal robe, a golden hat and ornate slippers. The fine horse seized when Baldwin was first taken captive was also returned. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 138–41; Matthew of Edessa, pp. 201–2. For a full discussion of this earlier alliance see: Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 112–14; Thomas Asbridge, “The ‘Crusader’ Community at Antioch: The Impact of Interaction with Byzantium and Islam,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th series, 9 (1999), 391–21. In al-Qalanisi, p. 76, n. 1. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 212–14, 231. Dubais ibn Sadaqa had a previous history of alliance with Il-ghazi of Mardin during the latter’s rule of Aleppo, and seemingly cooperative relations with Timurtash in 1121. Ibn l-Athir, 1: 242–44; Ibn al-Adim, 3: 643–44.



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Baldwin II’s Motives and Objectives in 1124 In fact, Baldwin immediately reneged on the terms of his release and that autumn prosecuted a military campaign against Aleppo.21 The surviving contemporary sources offer different explanations for this act of aggression. Both the Latin account written by Fulcher of Chartres in Jerusalem and completed around 1127, and the later history of William archbishop of Tyre (which drew on Fulcher’s work), seem to have been at pains to protect King Baldwin’s reputation. Neither recorded Baldwin’s apparent promise to ally with Timurtash, nor did they describe the king’s subsequent cooperation with Dubais ibn Sadaqa. Instead they suggested that Baldwin was effectively compelled by circumstances – including anxiety about the Latin hostages left in Muslim hands and an inability to raise the required ransom funds – to attack Aleppo, and stressed the fact that he did so not on his own initiative, but on the advice of his counselors.22 Fulcher may not have been a direct eyewitness to these events, being based in Jerusalem, but he was a well informed contemporary, so we must suspect a degree of conscious dissimulation in his account, probably born out of a desire to distance Baldwin II from accusations of oath breaking and a deep-seated unease about the king’s alliance with Muslim forces that autumn and winter.23 The fact of this Latin-Muslim coalition cannot be doubted, given that it was described in Arabic sources and independently corroborated by contemporary Armenian Christian testimony. This evidence indicates that, far from helping Timurtash to stave off the threat posed by another Arab Bedouin, Dubais ibn Sadaqa, Baldwin II promptly joined forces with Dubais and set out to conquer Aleppo. This alliance merits detailed consideration, in order to ascertain its origin, nature and purpose. Contact between the two parties appears initially to have been brokered by Salim ibn Malik al-Uqayli, lord of Qal‘at Ja‘bar, a Muslim potentate who had come to know both Baldwin II and Joscelin of Courtenay in 1108 during the negotiations that led to Baldwin’s release.24 This earlier association seems to have enabled Salim ibn Malik to act as an intermediary in 1124, because Ibn al-Adim noted that it was through the “favor of

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According to Ibn al-Adim, 3: 644–45, Baldwin sent a message to Timurtash explaining that the Latin patriarch of Antioch had forbidden the king from ceding control of Latin-held territory on Antioch’s eastern frontier and had formally absolved him of his oath. Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 751, 753–54; William Tyre, pp. 603–4. Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 479–81, demonstrated a similar reluctance to discuss the details of Baldwin II’s alliances with Muslims when recording the events of 1108, subtly transferring the blame for this pact to Joscelin of Courtenay. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 138–39; Usama ibn Munqidh, p. 255. Salim ibn Malik had also come into contact with Dubais ibn Sadaqa in 1108 following the death of Dubais’ father in 1107. The fortress of Qal‘at Ja‘bar stood on the eastern banks of the Euphrates, guarding a crossing of the great river and serving as a gateway between Syria and Iraq. Orderic Vitalis, 6: 113, recorded that Salim ibn Malik was the uncle of Baldwin II’s Armenian wife Morphia, and noted that Salim sent the king money to pay for food during his captivity.

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the emir’s mediation” that “an accord” was established between Dubais and the Latin rulers Baldwin and Joscelin.25 A number of other Muslim potentates joined Baldwin, Joscelin and Dubais at Aleppo as allies.26 Perhaps the most significant of these was the Seljuq Turkish prince-ling Sultanshah, son of the late emir of Aleppo, Ridwan (1095–1113). In 1114, when he was just six years of age, Sultanshah had been installed as the puppet-ruler of Aleppo. The boy “emir” was exploited as a figurehead by a succession of regents until the Artuqid Turcoman warlord Il-ghazi of Mardin finally took full control of Aleppo in 1118. Sultanshah was formally deposed and later placed in captivity. He remained a prisoner of the Artuqid dynasty until the summer of 1124, when he managed to escape from Mardin. It is interesting to note that, like so many participants in the siege of Aleppo, Sultanshah had a connection to Qa‘alat Ja‘bar, having spent a portion of his time in captivity in the castle, so we might speculate that Salim ibn Malik played a role in bringing the young Seljuqid into the fold. In the autumn of 1124 it is unlikely that Sultanshah would have been able to make a significant military contribution to the campaign in terms of raw manpower, but given his hereditary links with the former Aleppan regime, his presence within the coalition might have been used to lend a semblance of legitimacy to the attempts to topple the Artuqid Timurtash.27 Salim ibn Malik also appears to have made a more direct contribution to the Latin-Muslim alliance at Aleppo, as his son Isa of Manbij was listed by Ibn al-Adim amongst the participants, though we know nothing more about Isa’s motives or role.28 The same is true of another member of the besieging force, Yaghi Siyan ibn Abd al-Djebbar of Balis, who was actually a minor Artuqid emir, being the nephew of the late Il-ghazi of Mardin.29 The contemporary Armenian chronicler Matthew of Edessa added one further name to the list of

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Ibn al-Adim, 3: 645. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 244, recorded that, after fleeing first al-Hilla and then Basra, Dubais arrived at Qa‘lat Ja‘bar “where he joined the Franks.” It is possible that Dubais was most closely involved with Joscelin I. The Armenian Christian contemporary Matthew of Edessa [p. 234] recorded that, in 1124, Dubais “made an alliance of peace and friendship with Joscelin and so came to the aid of the count [of Edessa] with his troops.” Ibn al-Adim [3: 645] indicated that a pact was agreed after “frequent meetings” and “long discussions” with both Joscelin and Baldwin II, but went on to note [3: 645–6] that Joscelin and Dubais arrived at Aleppo together. It has sometimes been suggested that Count Pons of Tripoli participated in this campaign. His presence was noted in a rather garbled form in the Syriac Chronicle to 1234 [Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, p. 96], but was not recorded elsewhere, so this almost certainly was an error. Nicholson, Joscelyn, pp. 72–3. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 631, 642–43 and 646; Matthew of Edessa, p. 234; al-Azhari, The Saljuqs of Syria, pp. 148–59; Cahen, La Syrie du Nord, p. 330. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 646; Cahen, La Syrie du Nord, p. 330, appears to have been in error when suggesting that Salim ibn Malik participated in person. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 646.



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allies that does not appear elsewhere, that of the Seljuq Turk Tughrul Arslan of Melitene, the son of the late Seljuq sultan of Anatolia Kilij Arslan.30 King Baldwin II thus commanded a quite striking array of troops during the siege of Aleppo. No overall manpower estimates survive, but Matthew of Edessa described the assemblage as “an imposing force,” while Ibn al-Athir recorded that the Latins came with “large numbers of troops.” Ibn al-Adim later estimated that the entire army was made up of two-thirds Frankish Christians and one-third Muslims.31 This was not the first time that Latins had fought alongside Muslims since the foundation of the crusader states, but it was probably the broadest and most sustained inter-faith coalition witnessed in the “crusader” Levant during the twelfth century. Other collaborations generally involved short-term contributions to a single engagement, whereas during the siege of Aleppo Latin and Muslim forces cooperated in the field for more than four months.32 What then was the objective of this remarkable alliance? As we have seen, the Latin sources were quite evasive on the issue of Baldwin’s intentions in 1124. They variously suggested that the king hoped to pressure the Aleppans into releasing their remaining Latin hostages or, somewhat bizarrely, that the Muslims might be persuaded “to pay a sum equal to that which [Baldwin] had agreed to give for his own ransom” – that is, that Baldwin hoped to extort money from the Aleppans that could then be used to pay off his ransom debt to the city’s ruler Timurtash. Only Fulcher of Chartres acknowledged that the king might “perchance ... be able to seize [Aleppo] while it was hard hit by famine.”33 However, the Arabic and Armenian sources were far less equivocal. These accounts indicate that Baldwin had a more precise and ambitious goal; one that was not confined to the more familiar pattern of exploratory raiding or ravaging, but involved a serious and sustained attempt to besiege and conquer Aleppo.34 Ibn al-Adim, for example, provided a detailed account of this prolonged investment and noted from the start that this offensive was designed

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Matthew of Edessa, p. 234. Cahen, La Syrie du Nord, p. 330, theorized that Tughrul Arslan contributed to the siege “in the vain hope of securing assistance in the defence of Melitene,” but this seems to be pure conjecture. Matthew of Edessa, p. 234; Ibn al-Athir, 1: 254; Ibn al-Adim, 3: 646. William of Tyre, p. 603, evidently believed that Baldwin had less than seven thousand troops at his disposal, because he noted that the Muslim army that marched to relieve Aleppo in early 1125 “consisted of 7,000 cavalry” (plus additional support forces), and William went on to conclude that King Baldwin II wisely elected to retreat “rather than incautiously risk an engagement with the foe’s superior forces.” However, William’s figure of seven thousand enemy troops seems to have been copied from Fulcher of Chartres, p. 754, and Fulcher made no direct comparison to the strength of Baldwin’s army, noting simply that “our men were unable to prevail against the enemy.” Therefore, it seems likely that William may have inferred the numerical imbalance of the two forces, or even have used this factor to help excuse Baldwin’s failure. Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 70–72, 112–14. William of Tyre, p 603; Fulcher of Chartres, p. 751. Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 126–27.

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to lead to the city’s capture.35 Given this evidence, and the significant military resources that the king subsequently dedicated to the campaign, it is very likely that Baldwin II set out in the autumn of 1124 with the express intention of overthrowing the extant Aleppan regime. We cannot confidently reconstruct Baldwin’s and Joscelin’s projected plans for Aleppo once the city was seized, in large part because ultimately their campaign failed. The immediate imposition of full-scale, direct Latin rule would have been difficult to maintain – not least given the chronic manpower shortages that beset the crusader states – but such an objective cannot be wholly discounted. Only the Muslim sources offer any indication of King Baldwin’s expectations, and they suggest that Dubais ibn Sadaqa was to be installed as a form of client-ruler. According to Ibn al-Athir, Dubais had promised “to be an obedient deputy” in Aleppo once the city fell, while Ibn al-Adim suggested that even before the siege began a deal had been struck that would see “the assignment of Aleppo to Dubais, while authority over the city’s goods and populace would remain with the Franks, excepting certain localities in the province” – phrasing which still leaves some doubt about the balance of power.36 However, it is very unlikely that either author would actually have been privy to the exact terms of any agreement made between Baldwin, Joscelin and Dubais, so these statements might simply reflect an estimation of the allies’ plans. Nor can we be certain that Baldwin actually would have fulfilled any promises made to Dubais, or the other Muslim participants in the coalition, like Sultanshah, had Aleppo fallen. At the very least, Baldwin must have hoped that success in the siege would bring about a significant realignment of Aleppo’s political and military interests, perhaps through the agency of a compliant and closely allied client ruler. Quite possibly he envisaged this as a stepping stone to direct Latin rule. This is important because it represented the first concerted effort by a Latin Christian power to seize control of the major Muslim city in northern Syria, and thus was one of the most dramatic attempts to expand the Frankish sphere of influence in the Near East in the early twelfth century. It also indicates that Baldwin had adopted an aggressive and ambitious stance in 1124. This runs counter to the oft-repeated suggestion that, following his release from captivity, the king was compelled to remain in northern Syria by an urgent need to defend

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Ibn al-Adim, 3: 645–50; Ibn al-Adim, “Dictionnaire Biographique,” Recueil des Historiens des Croisades, Historiens Orientaux, ed. Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 5 vols. (Paris, 1884), 3: 717–23 [hereafter cited as Ibn al-Adim, “Dictionnaire Biographique”]. Matthew of Edessa, p. 234 noted that Baldwin led “an imposing force … against Aleppo and the city was put in dire straits.” Ibn al-Qalanisi, 172–73; Ibn al-Athir, 1: 253–54, suggested that the Latins were “convinced that they could take the whole of Syria [so] they collected large numbers of troops [and] marched against and besieged Aleppo.” Ibn al-Athir, 1: 254; Ibn al-Adim, 3: 645–50. In the entry dealing with Aksungur al-Bursuqi in his biographical dictionary, Ibn al-Adim offered a different version of this pact, recording that the Franks were to receive the treasures within Aleppo, while Sultanshah would become the city’s new ruler [Ibn al-Adim, “Dictionnaire Biographique,” 3: 717–23].



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the principality of Antioch and the county of Edessa.37 In fact, Baldwin’s 1124 campaign must be regarded as a bold, almost visionary, attempt to reset the strategic balance of power between the northern crusader states and their Muslim neighbours. This approach represented a clear break with the policies adopted by earlier Latin rulers of Antioch, including the crusade veteran Tancred (1104– 12) and the late Prince Roger (1113–19), whose death at the battle of the Field of Blood had ushered in Baldwin II’s regency. Tancred and Roger certainly had sought to capitalize upon the political turmoil that afflicted Muslim Syria in the early twelfth century, but rather than attempt the actual conquest of Aleppo, they preferred to weaken the city almost to the point of submission and to then exploit its financial resources through demands for regular tribute payments.38 Baldwin II seems to have envisaged a far more dramatic reshaping of Syrian politics. Arguably, he could have prioritized his Jerusalemite interests (especially after his interruptive period in captivity) and left the northern states of Antioch and Edessa in a relatively stable position of status quo with Aleppo.39 Instead, the king chose direct action. The Prospects for Latin Success at Aleppo The closest contemporary Frankish chronicler, Fulcher of Chartres, offered a curt assessment of the siege of Aleppo, simply concluding that the expedition “achieved nothing.”40 But as we have seen, Fulcher tended to downplay the significance of this entire episode, probably as a means to distance the king of Jerusalem from complicity in a failed venture that had involved an alliance with Muslims. In fact, the vast majority of our surviving primary sources make it clear that Baldwin came remarkably close to conquering Aleppo in 1125. It is quite possible that the king began the Aleppan campaign with some expectation that possession of the city might be secured in relatively short order. Dubais ibn Sadaqa seems to have suggested to Baldwin and Joscelin that, as a Shiite Arab, he could influence the large Shiite Muslim population within Aleppo. Ibn al-Athir even reported that Dubais declared that “when [the citizens] see me they will surrender the city to me.”41 It is also very likely that, when Baldwin mustered his Latin army at Artah – the customary staging post for Antiochene forces – towards the end of September 1124, the king already 37

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Alan V. Murray, ‘Baldwin II and His Nobles: Baronial Faction and Dissent in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1118–1134,’ Nottingham Medieval Studies 38 (1994), 68, argued that “the Turkish threat detained the king in northern Syria, and he did not return to Jerusalem until April 1125.” Thomas Asbridge, “The Significance and Causes of the Battle of the Field of Blood,” Journal of Medieval History 23.4 (1997), 301–16. Baldwin II could arguably have allowed the Belus Hills to continue to act as a border zone between Antioch and Aleppo [Asbridge, The Crusades, pp. 151–52, 165]. Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 753–54. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 253–54, suggested that Dubais “fed [the Franks’] ambitions further, especially for Aleppo,” supposedly stating that Aleppo’s Shiite inhabitants “lean towards me for sectarian reasons.”

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knew that Aleppo’s emir Timurtash had left the city for the distant Mesopotamian heartlands of Artuqid power at Mardin.42 The combination of the opportunity presented by Aleppo’s essentially leaderless state and the expectation of the city’s swift submission may help to explain why Baldwin elected to initiate his offensive at the tail end of the traditional fighting season. Once Baldwin and his allies reached Aleppo on around 6 October, hopes for a rapid victory must gradually have dwindled. Nonetheless, the coalition forces committed to a hard-fought siege, even as the harsher weather of autumn and winter threatened. The Latin king adopted a combined siege strategy – mixing encirclement with intermittent skirmishing and attempts at direct assault – but his primary focus seems to have been upon establishing a cordon, isolating Aleppo from supply, and then waiting for starvation to weaken the Muslim populace to the point of submission. To this end, a ring of troops apparently was thrown around the northern half of the city, with Baldwin commanding the Frankish troops camped in the west, Joscelin I holding a position that straddled the main road leading northwest and Muslim troops under the likes of Dubais and Sultanshah holding the north-eastern and eastern quadrants.43 The coalition forces also seem to have prepared for a prolonged siege by building what the contemporary Damascene chronicler Ibn al-Qalanisi described as “houses and huts to protect them from heat and cold,” and the same author concluded that they were “determined to remain there to prosecute their siege.”44 According to the Aleppan historian Ibn al-Adim, Baldwin’s men also perpetrated a series of atrocities that may have been deliberately designed to intimidate Aleppo’s garrison. These dark deeds apparently included the ritual violation of Muslim tombs on the city’s outskirts, the defilement of exhumed Muslim bodies and the desecration of copies of the Quran.45 Such accusations were not repeated elsewhere and it is perhaps hard to imagine that acts of this type would have been readily tolerated by the Latin’s Muslim allies.46 Ibn al-Adim also reported that both the Franks and Aleppo’s Muslim defenders brutalized and maimed enemies who were unfortunate enough to be taken captive – the 42

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Ibn al-Adim, 3: 645. Ibn al-Adim, “Dictionnaire Biographique,” 3: 717, specifically stated that Baldwin decided to attack Aleppo because he knew about Timurtash’s absence. Timurtash left for Mardin on 2 September 1124. His supposed aim was to gather reinforcements for Aleppo’s defense, but it is notable that he left even before the siege began and did not return. I would suggest that, from the start, he had an eye to consolidating and expanding his authority over Mardin and Mayyafariqin. Certainly he prioritized this power-block over Aleppo in late 1124 and early 1125. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 646. William of Tyre, p. 603, recorded that Baldwin “surrounded the city with the usual blockade, and began siege operations.” Ibn al-Qalanisi, p. 172, noted that the Franks “set about fighting with [Aleppo’s] inhabitants and besieging the city.” Ibn al-Athir, 1: 254, stated that the allied forces “marched against and besieged Aleppo, keeping up fierce attacks.” Ibn al-Qalanisi, p. 173; Ibn al-Athir, 1: 254. Ibn al-Adim, 3: 647. It should be noted that these atrocities do bear a striking resemblance to actions performed by the First Crusaders in March 1098 during the siege of Antioch. Thomas Asbridge, The First Crusade: A New History (London, 2004), pp. 193–94.



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practice being to cut off their hands and testicles and then throw these back to the opposing force.47 As the siege continued into the midst of winter, hunger must have bitten on both sides and the coalition forces probably relied in part upon the resources foraged to the north and east of the city by Baldwin, Joscelin and Dubais.48 By the end of 1124, Aleppo’s populace appear to have been at breaking point, with just five hundred warriors remaining to defend the city and no sign of reinforcements from the still-absent Timurtash. Ibn al-Adim recorded that “the situation of the city’s inhabitants was most critical,” adding that food shortages meant that the Aleppans “were reduced to eating dogs and carrion,” and even human cadavers. He concluded that “as a result, illness ravaged their numbers [and they were] barely able to mount a defence.”49 We might suspect a degree of exaggeration on the chronicler’s part, given the prominent part played by members of his own family (including his great-grandfather, the Aleppan qadi Abu Ghanem Muhammad) in ultimately resolving this crisis by convincing Aksungur al-Bursuqi to relieve the city. However, this image of Aleppo’s populace being on the brink of collapse was repeated in a range of other contemporary and near-contemporary sources.50 However, as the investment dragged on into early 1125, the Latin king and his allies failed to strike a decisive blow. The Turkish atabeg of Mosul, Aksungur al-Bursuqi, finally intervened in January with Baghdad’s backing. Marching west into Syria at the head of a sizeable army, he quickly forced Baldwin’s coalition to retreat and fragment, and then proceeded to seize power in Aleppo.51 The Franks’ best opportunity to conquer the Muslim capital of the northern Levant had passed. Worse still, the enemy had been frightened into accepting alliance with, and subjection to, one of the leading Seljuq powers of the Fertile Crescent. For a time it seemed as though Baldwin’s audacious scheme had ushered in a new era of Syrian-Mesopotamian unity, with an aggressive Turkish warlord enjoying joint rule of Aleppo and Mosul. In the event, Baldwin was able to best Aksungur in the battle of Azaz on 11 June 1125 and a year later the atabeg was assassinated in Mosul.52 However, in 1128 the advent of a new emir of Mosul

47 48 49 50

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Ibn al-Adim, 3: 647. Ibid., 3: 645–46. Ibid., 3: 648. Matthew of Edessa, p. 234, noted that the Aleppans were “put in dire straits for many days through famine and continual assaults.” Ibn al-Qalanisi, p. 172, recorded that “the siege continued until supplies in [Aleppo] became deficient and its people were on the brink of destruction.” Ibn al-Athir, 1: 254, wrote that the defenders’ “spirits weakened and they feared they were doomed.” Even William of Tyre, p. 603, agreed that Aleppo was in a “critical situation” in January 1125, asserting that the Muslims inside the city believed that “unless aid came at once the city would soon fall.” Ibn al-Adim, 3: 649–50; William of Tyre, pp. 603–4; al-Azimi, “La chronique abrégée d’alAzimi années 518–538/1124–1144”, trans. Francois Monot, Revue des Études Islamiques 59 (1991), 110. Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 87–8; Ibn al-Athir, 1: 261–62.

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and Aleppo, Imad al-Din Zangi, precipitated in a second, far more stable and sustained period of Muslim ascendancy.53 The Levantine Franks only made one other serious attempt to attack Aleppo. A coalition of Latin and Greeks troops, led by the Byzantine Emperor John Comnenus, laid siege to the city in April 1138, but this offensive was abandoned after just two days.54 From then on, Aleppo remained in the hands of Outremer’s enemies. The Damascus Campaign of 1129 In the aftermath of the failure at Aleppo, Baldwin II refocused his energies and attention upon the kingdom of Jerusalem. Having overseen Aksungur’s defeat at Azaz and the installation of the young Bohemond II as prince of Antioch, Baldwin was relieved of some of the burden of governing and defending Outremer in the second half of the 1120s.55 He used this opportunity to plan and then launch a second, highly ambitious military campaign – the Franks’ firstever determined attempt to besiege and conquer Damascus, the great Muslim capital of Syria. Drawing upon his experiences at Aleppo, and the knowledge gained during two exploratory expeditions into Damascene territory in 1125 and 1126, Baldwin seems to have decided that success and lasting settlement would require a significant injection of additional Latin manpower.56 Thus, in 1127, the king sought to promote a new Frankish crusade to the East, expressly targeting Damascus. Some aspects of the preaching of this crusade, and the organization and prosecution of the campaign that followed, have already been closely studied. Jonathan Phillips has ably demonstrated that the European recruitment drive for Baldwin’s Damascene project was closely linked to the king’s other cherished scheme – the delicate diplomatic process of securing a marriage alliance between his eldest daughter Melisende and the powerful western European lord Count Fulk V of Anjou. These twinned objectives required the dispatch of repeated embassies to the West and the agency of one of King Baldwin’s leading vassals, William of Bures, and of Hugh of Payns, the master of the new Templar military order.57 Phillips surely was also right to suggest that Baldwin’s attack 53 54

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Carole Hillenbrand, “Abominable Acts: The Career of Zengi,” in The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. Jonathan P. Phillips and Martin Hoch (Manchester, 2001), pp. 111–32. Jonathan Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades (London, 2003), pp. 83–4, 106–7. John’s successor Manuel Comnenus laid plans for another campaign against Aleppo in 1159, but this attack was aborted after a treaty was struck with Nur al-Din. Asbridge, Antioch, pp. 146–47. Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 772–73, 784–93; William of Tyre, 607–8; Ibn al-Qalanisi, pp. 176–77. Phillips, Defenders, pp. 19–43; Jonathan P. Phillips, “Hugh of Payns and the 1129 Damascus Crusade,” in The Military Orders: Fighting for the Faith and Caring for the Sick, ed. Malcolm Barber (Aldershot, 1994), pp. 141–47. The Damascus Crusade of 1129 was particularly interesting, because it appears to have been launched with little or no papal involvement. Records indicate that, against a background of widespread preaching and mass recruitment rallies, individuals took the cross, clear in the view that they were enlisting in an endeavor



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on Damascus “was not a spontaneous or opportunistic venture” but rather the culmination of careful planning and a considered strategy.58 Nonetheless, certain features of the 1129 campaign require further examination if we are to fully appreciate its nature and potential significance. The basic outline of the crusade is well understood. Baldwin launched his Syrian invasion in late October 1129. With Fulk of Anjou and his fellow crusaders joined by armies levied from across Outremer, the Frankish army included some 2,000 knights and perhaps 10,000 infantry. With winter approaching, the king marched his host to within six miles of Damascus, but then paused to forage for food and fodder. A sizeable force was dispatched south to gather supplies on the fertile plains of the Hauran, but this company subsequently was intercepted and overrun by Damascene troops in early November. Some Frankish knights escaped back to the main host, but even so, this was a dreadful, morale-sapping setback. To make matters worse, a heavy storm then broke and the onset of “pouring rain and intense cold” transformed the road ahead into an impassable quagmire. With the momentum of his expedition broken, King Baldwin ordered the retreat.59 However, beyond this basic narrative reconstruction, two critical, and I would argue interlinked, questions remain unanswered. Why did Baldwin II choose to launch yet another major military campaign in late autumn / early winter? And what, if any, role did alliance or negotiation with Muslims play in the events of 1129? The Timing of Baldwin’s 1129 campaign As a rule, medieval armies tended to confine their military activities to the warmer and more clement months of the year. In Europe and the Near East, most warfare was prosecuted during the so-called “fighting season”, running roughly from mid to late spring through to early autumn. Military activity was not unknown outside this period – Baldwin II’s siege of Aleppo being a case in point – but it was far less common, given the attendant problems of poor weather, shortages of supplies and difficulties of travel and communication. The Franks had learned early on that Syrian winters could be just as unforgiving as those experienced in Europe. During the winter of 1097–8, the appalling weather shocked the First Crusaders besieging the northern Syrian city of Antioch, and one Latin participant later remarked on the “excessive cold and enormous torrents of rain” that afflicted the army, concluding that “the winter

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akin to the First Crusade in its rituals and spiritual rewards. Yet, at the same time, no evidence of support or endorsement from Rome for this campaign exists. In part, this may have been a consequence of the localized feuding then crippling the papacy, but it is likely also a reflection of the unstructured and organic nature of developments in crusading thought and practice throughout this period. Phillips, Defenders, p. 42. Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East, pp. 26–8; Grousset, Histoire des Croisades, 1: 657–65; Runciman, ‘The Kingdom of Jerusalem’, pp. 179–80; Phillips, Defenders, pp. 40–2.

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[in Syria] is very similar to our winter in the West.”60 Baldwin II may not have witnessed these events firsthand, given that he was probably in Edessa at this point, but undoubtedly he would have known about this infamously grueling siege.61 Over the thirty years that followed, the Levantine Franks had initiated only a handful of military operations outside of the traditional fighting season.62 Given the well established custom of avoiding winter warfare, we must ask why Baldwin elected to commence his grand Damascene campaign – the product of at least two years of planning – towards the end of October 1129. After all, harsh weather contributed significantly to the ultimate failure of this venture. Most historians have ignored this conundrum altogether, while those few who have paused briefly to consider the issue proposed unsatisfactory explanations. According to their lines of argument, the king deliberately delayed his march on Damascus so that the full combined strength of the crusading forces from Europe and the armies of Outremer could be assembled.63 But this suggestion has no basis in evidence. Baldwin II certainly led an impressive coalition of forces in 1129, including Fulk of Anjou’s crusading contingent, additional crusaders enlisted by William of Bures and Hugh of Payns, and armies from Antioch, Tripoli and Edessa led by Prince Bohemond II, Count Pons and Count Joscelin I respectively. However, there is no indication that Baldwin was prevented from gathering together these troops until October 1129. In fact, the only surviving fixed dates relevant to this process – those of the count of Anjou’s arrival in Palestine and his subsequent marriage to Melisende – attest to the fact that Fulk and his men were present in the kingdom of Jerusalem by May 1129.64 Beyond that we know only that the Templar master Hugh of Payns returned from Europe at some point in 1129, along with “many companies” of crusaders recruited in the West who had “come to help [the Franks] besiege Damascus,” and that Bohemond, Pons and Joscelin joined Baldwin before the advance on Damascus began.65 Given this marked absence of precise information, it is impossible to state with any certainty that the king was forced to postpone his offensive. I would suggest that it is at least as likely that Baldwin II deliberately delayed the launch of his campaign against Damascus because he had been plotting 60 61 62 63

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Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Die Kreuzzugsbriefe aus den Jahren 1088–1100 (Innsbruck, 1901), p. 150. Murray, The Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, p. 61. Tancred of Antioch laid siege to al-Atharib between October 1110 and January 1111: Asbridge, Antioch, p. 65. Phillips, Defenders, p. 40, argued that the delay “allowed other crusaders who had not accompanied [Fulk V of Anjou] to travel from western Europe and for the preparations in the Latin East to be completed.” William of Tyre, pp. 618–19. William of Tyre, p. 620; Ibn al-Qalanisi, p. 195. Hugh of Payns had attended the council of Troyes in January 1129, but that is the last known date placing him in the West. Ibn al-Athir, 1: 279, recorded that in the year 523 A.H. [25 December 1128 and 23 January 1129 C.E.] Bohemond II took the castle of al-Qadmus, but this event was otherwise undated, so cannot be said to have delayed the prince’s participation in the Damascus campaign. Usama bin Munqigh, pp. 127–28, noted the participation of Antiochene Franks in the failed attack on Damascus.



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with high-placed Muslim contacts to engineer the city’s surrender. Just as in relation to the siege of Aleppo in 1124–5, the surviving Latin sources offer no hint of any communication or coalition with Muslims in 1129.66 But a broad range of other contemporary and near-contemporary sources make it clear that, at the very least, King Baldwin engaged in close contact with the Assassins in that period. This Ismaili Shiite Muslim sect originated in Persia and became infamous for their use of assassination to gain political power and influence. In the early decades of the twelfth century an offshoot of this movement started to operate in Syria, and by the mid-1120s they had gained a conspicuous foothold in Damascus. In late 1126 the Damascene atabeg Tughtegin granted the Assassins control of the settlement of Banyas, southwest of the city, on the main road running on through Galilee to the Mediterranean coast. Situated to the east of the River Jordan’s headwaters, at the foot of the snow-capped Mount Hermon, Banyas stood guard over the Golan Heights and the fertile, lowland plains of the Hauran, in the frontier zone between Damascus and the kingdom of Jerusalem. The Assassins oversaw the fortification of this strategically significant settlement.67 After Tughtegin’s death in early 1128, however, the Assassins gradually fell out of favor with his son and successor, Taj al-Mulk Buri. In part, Buri’s mounting antipathy reflected a groundswell of popular sectarian resentment against the Ismaili Assassin outsiders, but by 1129 rumours of a plot also appear to have been circulating. Since their arrival in the city, the Assassins had gained the support of the Damascene vizier Abu ‘Ali Tahir ibn Sa‘d al-Mazdaqani. Buri seems to have resented the power wielded by al-Mazdaqani and the Assassins, and to have feared that his own position and authority might be eclipsed. On 4 September 1129 he moved to eliminate this threat. The Vizier al-Mazdaqani was murdered after a council meeting in the citadel’s Rose Pavilion and a general massacre of the Assassins and their sympathizers then followed, leaving thousands dead.68 However, the thirteenth-century Mosuli historian Ibn al-Athir included an intriguing additional element in his description of these events. Ibn al-Athir recorded that before his death in 1129: Al-Mazdaqani contacted the Franks to surrender to them the city of Damascus and for them to hand over the city of Tyre to him. This was agreed between them and they settled on a date, a Friday, which they named. Al-Mazdaqani agreed with the Ismailis

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William of Tyre, pp. 620–22. The Damascene chronicler Ibn al-Qalanisi, pp. 179–80, made his view of these Ismaili sectarians clear when describing them as a “rabble of varlets, half-wits, peasants, low fellows and vile scum.” Al-Azimi, p. 114, noted that between 1126 and early 1127 the Assassin leader “Bahram came to be granted Banyas.” Ibn al-Qalanisi, pp. 191–94, estimated the number of dead at 6,000. Sibt ibn al-Jauzi, “Mirat ez-Zeman,” in Recueil des Historiens des Croisades, Historiens Orientaux, ed. Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 5 vols. (Paris, 1884), 3: 567, suggested that 20,000 were killed. Ibn al-Azraq, A Muslim Principality in Crusader Times, ed. and trans. Carole Hillenbrand (Istanbul, 1990), p. 55, also noted the killing of al-Mazdaqani and the Assassins in Damascus.

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that on that day they should seal off the gates of the mosque and not allow anyone to leave, in order that the Franks might come and seize the city.69

The veracity of this claim is difficult to ascertain, given that the plot was not mentioned by Ibn al-Qalanisi.70 We also might question whether King Baldwin truly would have been willing or able to cede possession of the recently conquered port of Tyre to a Muslim. As long ago as 1935 Hamilton Gibb assessed and discounted Ibn al-Athir’s account, largely on the grounds that Latin sources “gave no hint” of the scheme, and because the “plot was not necessary to account for the Frankish attack on Damascus,” and most historians have followed Gibb’s lead, or have disregarded this evidence altogether.71 However, as we have seen, contemporary Latin writers failed time and again to record Frankish dealings and alliances with Muslims. Gibb’s argument that Baldwin II’s actions could be explained without recourse to Ibn al-Athir’s chronicle is also problematic, given that it ignored the question mark hanging over the timing of the Frankish campaign. The notion that Baldwin II hoped, with the connivance of Muslim supporters, to engineer the overthrow of the Burid regime in Damascus is by no means inherently unlikely. Such a scheme would also offer an explanation, grounded in evidence, for the late start of the Latins’ military incursion into Syria. This theory is lent further credence by the fact that King Baldwin undoubtedly enjoyed close contact with members of the Assassin sect in the late summer or early autumn of 1129. Arabic and Syriac sources indicate that the Assassin commanding Banyas – a man named Ismail – surrendered the fortress to the Latins. He and a number of his fellow Assassins then took sanctuary in Frankish Palestine.72 This event almost certainly took place in the aftermath of the pogrom 69

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Ibn al-Athir, 1: 277–78. Al-Azhari, The Saljuqs of Syria, p. 233, has suggested that Ibn al-Athir’s account was corroborated in Shihab al-Din al-Nuwayri’s early fourteenth-century encyclopaedic work, The Attaining of the Goal in the Arts of Culture [al-Nuwayri, Nihayat al-‘arab fi funun al-adab, vol. 27, ed. Said Ashur (Cairo, 1975), p. 80]. It is notable, however, that while Ibn al-Qalanisi evidently loathed the Assassins, he seems to have been curiously reluctant to openly criticize al-Mazdaqani for his dealings with the Ismailis. Qalanisi, p. 191, even took the step of justifying al-Mazdaqani’s actions, noting that the vizier sided with the Assassins “in order to guard himself against their malice and out of desire for his own safety.” It is thus perhaps possible that Qalanisi had some reason to shield al-Mazdaqani’s reputation and therefore chose not to record the plot with the Franks. Hamilton A. R. Gibb, “Notes on the Arabic Materials for the History of the Early Crusades,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 7.4 (1935), pp. 751–52. Gibb was followed by Bernard Lewis [The Assassins (London, 1967), p. 107], who discounted a Damascus plot in 1129, by suggesting that it “rests on a single not very reliable source, and may be dismissed as the invention of hostile gossip.” Marshall G. S. Hodgson, The Secret Order of the Assassins (The Hague, 1955), pp. 104–6, ignored this episode. Ibn al-Qlanisi, p. 194; Ibn al-Athir, 1: 278; Sibt ibn al-Jauzi, p. 567; Ibn al-Adim, “Dictionnaire biographique,” 1: 698. The Syriac Chronicle to the Year 1234 suggested that contact was established earlier, during the lifetime of the Assassin leader Bahram (d. 1128), who upon taking control of Banyas “sent gifts to the Frankish king, and offered him his allegiance” [Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, pp. 98–99].



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in Damascus on 4 September, but the fact that Ismail turned to the kingdom of Jerusalem for succour is strongly suggestive of a pre-history of communication between Baldwin II and Assassins in Banyas. On balance, I would suggest that the timing of Baldwin’s 1129 campaign may well have been influenced by events in Damascus. If this reconstruction of events is correct, then the Latin king entertained real hopes that his Muslim contacts inside the city might overthrow the Burid regime in the late summer of 1129. At this point, Baldwin probably intended to seize and occupy Damascus with the help of Count Hugh and the recently arrived European crusaders. Al-Mazqadani’s murder and the massacre of the Assassins in early September put paid to any hopes of using diplomacy and guile to facilitate the capture of Damascus. The king now had no option other than to employ a direct military assault. It may be that he only summoned additional forces from Antioch, Tripoli and Edessa at this point. In October Baldwin marched his army to Banyas, using the fortress as an advance staging post, before pushing on towards Damascus, where the intention, according to William of Tyre, was “to take the city by fighting at close quarters, or by laying siege force it to surrender.”73 The Outcome and Significance of the Damascus Campaign There can be no doubt that the Frankish advance foundered in November 1129. King Baldwin, Count Fulk and the assembled armies of the Latin East appear to have retreated without ever laying siege to Damascus.74 Certainly the city remained in Muslim hands. This reversal is usually painted as a total and ignominious defeat for the Franks. Ibn al-Qalanisi, for one, revelled in the image of the beleaguered enemy fleeing “to their castles in the most abject state of abasement.”75 However, the twelfth-century Syrian Christian historian, Patriarch Michael the Elder (1166–99), recorded a somewhat different conclusion to Baldwin II’s campaign – one that has been ignored in modern historiography. Michael acknowledged that the Latins’ attempt to conquer Damascus was repulsed in 1129, but he also noted that Taj al-Mulk Buri made a payment of 20,000 dinars to the Franks to ensure a swift end to hostilities, and promised additional annual tribute payments in the future.76 This arrangement was not recorded in any other surviving contemporary or near contemporary source, so Michael’s reliability may be doubted, but it should be pointed out that he drew information for his account from a number of works that are now lost, including Basil BarShumno’s

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William of Tyre, p. 620. Ibn al-Qalanisi (pp. 198–99) and William of Tyre (pp. 621–22) agreed that the Frankish host retreated from their encampment at the “Wooden Bridge” near Darayya. Only Ibn al-Athir, 1: 278–79, suggested that some form of investment of Damascus was made. Ibn al-Qalanisi, p. 199. Michael the Syrian, 3: 226–27.

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contemporary chronicle of the years 1118 to 1143.77 It is also true to say that Latin narratives routinely failed to make any reference to financial payments made by Muslims to the Levantine Franks, even though we know from Arabic testimony that elaborate networks of tribute and interdependency were established in the early decades of the twelfth century.78 On this basis, we might suggest that the notion of a Damascene tribute payment in 1129 was not beyond the realms of possibility. Regardless of its outcome, we can be certain that King Baldwin II’s Damascus campaign was a remarkably ambitious venture. The careful and complex preparations that Baldwin made for this expedition, and the unprecedented scale of the fighting manpower he then put into the field, marked out this endeavor. As a martial enterprise it eclipsed even the siege of Aleppo. René Grousset rightly characterized the drive towards the conquest of Damascus’ as “Baldwin II’s great project.”79 If the king had succeeded in seizing control of the city, whether through the intrigues of al-Mazdaqani and the Assassins or after direct siege and assault, then the subsequent history of Frankish Palestine and all Outremer would have been transformed. The Latin Christians only made one other concerted effort to capture Damascus – when the forces of the Second Crusade laid siege to the city in 1148 – but this attempt also ended in failure.80 The Importance of Baldwin II’s Campaigns King Baldwin II’s ambitions for Aleppo and Damascus were never realized, but this should not blind us to the extraordinary scale and audacity of the offensives he spearheaded in the 1120s. Baldwin’s aggressive and expansionist military policies demonstrate that, as overlord of Outremer, he was not content merely to perpetuate the status quo. Rather than seek to maintain a relatively stable balance of power with his main Islamic rivals – holding Antioch’s eastern frontier at the Belus Hills and Jerusalem’s border zone in the region of Banyas – Baldwin elected to push for the conquest of not just one but both of Muslim Syria’s great cities. In this he was unique amongst the Latin rulers in the Levant. But for all his apparent belligerence, Baldwin also showed himself to be the arch pragmatist. Ignoring the rhetoric of entrenched religious hatred that peppered the Latin Church’s earliest calls to crusade, he drew upon Muslim alliances and 77

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For a discussion of Michael [the Syrian] the Elder’s career and the sources he used for his chronicle, see: Witold Witakowski, “Syriac Historiographical Sources,” in Byzantines and Crusaders in Non-Greek Sources, ed. Mary Whitby (Oxford, 2007), pp. 255–61. Asbridge, “The ‘Crusader’ Community at Antioch,” pp. 317–24. Grousset, Histoire des Croisades, 1: 657. Phillips, The Second Crusade, pp. 216–27; Alan Forey, “The Failure of the Siege of Damascus in 1148,” Journal of Medieval History 10 (1984), 13–24; Martin Hoch, “The Choice of Damascus as the Objective of the Second Crusade: A Re-evaluation,” in Autour de la Première Croisade, ed. Michel Balard (Paris, 1996), pp. 359–69; Martin Hoch, “The Price of Failure: The Second Crusade as a Turning Point in the History of the Latin East,” in The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences (Manchester, 2001), pp. 180–200.



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contacts in pursuit of his goals more readily and consistently than any other Frankish king of Jerusalem. Baldwin’s grand territorial aspirations, and his apparent willingness to use any and all means to achieve his objectives, almost brought him success at Aleppo and Damascus. It is true that, by targeting these two historic centers of Muslim power, the king ran the risk of inciting an Islamic counter-offensive, perhaps in the form of a direct intervention from Mesopotamia – a danger that briefly was realized when Aksungur al-Bursuqi took control of Aleppo. But I would suggest that the potential rewards outweighed these considerations. If Baldwin II had succeeded in asserting his authority over either Aleppo or Damascus, whether through direct control or a client ruler, the defensive integrity of the crusader states would have been significantly increased. Latin possession of Aleppo would have radically altered the balance of power in northern Syria, countering the marked territorial isolation of the county of Edessa – Outremer’s lonely inland arm. Thus bolstered, the county might have been better placed to resist the predations of the Zangid dynasty in the 1140s. The threat of invasion to the kingdom of Jerusalem from the north and east also would have been vastly diminished had Baldwin taken and held Damascus, and a Frankish polity centred on that city would itself have benefitted from a relatively secure eastern frontier because hundreds of miles of arid north Arabian desert separated it from Mesopotamia. In such a case, the history of the crusader states might well have been transformed.

5 Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard Michael Ehrlich

Preface “We learn from history that we do not learn from history”: this was the title of an address by Captain B. H. Liddell Hart on 3 May 1938 to the Manchester Luncheon Club at the Midland hotel. A major point he made, based on twenty years’ of study of the records of the First World War, was: pure documentary history seems to me akin to mythology. Many were the gaps to be found in official archives – tokens of documents destroyed later to conceal what might impair a commander’s reputation … a general could safeguard the lives of his men as well as his own reputation by writing orders based on a situation that did not exist, for an attack that nobody carried out … I have wondered how the war went on at all when I have found how much of their time the commanders spent in preparing its history.1

Liddell Hart’s conclusions were based on abundant data which contradicted official documentation. He interviewed people who participated in battles, read the memoirs of politicians and army officers, compared archives, etc. All these are utterly irrelevant while dealing with medieval battles. In these cases, the only relevant part of Liddell Hart’s assertion is that documentation is not reliable. In other words, fishing out facts from medieval records is almost impossible. Therefore, having independent data which may shed some light on events that took place during a battle might be an important contribution to its reconstruction and understanding. The battle of Montgisard (25 November 1177) seems to be an excellent case study. This battle took place as result of Saladin’s initiative to take advantage of the absence of a significant part of the Frankish army, which was in the area of Antioch.2 According to various sources to be discussed here, Saladin gathered a great army in Egypt and attacked the Frankish kingdom’s south-western region. It seems that the Frankish King Baldwin IV was either poorly informed about

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“War in Camouflaged Form,” The Guardian (4 May 1938), p. 10. Willelmi Tyrensis archiepiscopi chronicon, ed. Robert B. C. Huygens, CCCM 63A (Turnhout, 1986), XXI, 18 (19), pp. 986–87 [hereafter abbreviated as WT]; Emily Atwater-Babcock and August C. Krey (transl.), A History of Deeds Done beyond the Sea, 2 vols. (New York, 1943), 2: 427 [Atwater-Babcock, Krey]; Joshua Prawer, Histoire du royaume latin de Jerusalem, 2 vols. (Paris, 1969–1970), 1: 550–54 [Prawer].

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Map 1.  South-Western Front of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem and the battle of Montigisard the strength of Saladin’s army or that he underestimated it. Therefore, once he realized what the balance of forces was, he took refuge in the fortified city of Ascalon. A day or two later, he managed to inflict on Saladin the most severe defeat he ever suffered. These events were so unexpected that contemporary sources described them either as a manifestation of God’s grace or of his wrath. In the coming pages I would like to suggest a possible reconstruction of this battle, based on a fresh reading of contemporary sources and an understanding of the topography and hydrology of the likely battlefield region. This essay’s aim is to try to understand what happened during this battle, and where it took place. Most particularly it seeks to explain how an outnumbered and surprised Frankish army nonetheless managed to achieve a decisive victory. Sources Although Montgisard was the most decisive defeat Saladin’s army ever suffered, very little is known about the circumstances which led to the Frankish victory. Frankish sources did not spare praises and superlatives in describing it, to an extent that makes them almost useless. On the other hand, they are less generous in providing technical data about such matters as the armies’ direction of advance and the precise location of the battlefield. The most important Frankish source for this battle is the famous chronicle of William of Tyre. As he was then the chancellor of the kingdom, he certainly was well acquainted with all relevant data. Unfortunately, he did not share a good part of this information with his readers. The details he provided about the events are of fragmentary nature, and leave many problems unsolved. Thus, the only date that appears in his long account of the battle is Saint Catherine’s day,



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i.e., 25 November, the day of the battle itself. The chronicle of Ernoul provides some additional details, yet, not enough to reconstruct the battle’s events in a reliable manner. Ernoul wrote his book about fifty years after the battle, and certainly did not rely exclusively on William’s account, because he included many details that William did not. Frankish sources do agree on a basic schedule and a precise location for this battle. It took place on the 25 November 1177 near to a hill called Montgisard, which is usually identified with Tel Gezer (Grid Reference 1425.1407), about eight kilometers south-east of Ramla. Possible clues, such as a place called “Cannetum Esturnellorum” which according to William of Tyre was about twelve miles from Montgisard, are useless.3 A place with an identical name was referred to during Richard Lion Heart’s campaign around Ascalon.4 Scholars believe that the place mentioned in Third Crusade sources was either near Tell Hesi (1745.6063) or ʿAyn al-Qaseb (2037.6084).5 These two locations are many dozens of kilometers from Tel Gezer (39 and 34 kilometers as a crow flies and about 60 and 50 kilometers by modern roads), and, therefore, they are irrelevant. Muslim sources naturally provide fragmentary and confusing data. Thus, Imād ad-Din al-Isfahani, who was Saladin’s secretary, wrote that the Muslim army departed from Ascalon on Wednesday 29 Jumada I (23 November 1177) and the battle took place on Friday, 1Jumada II (25 November). According to him, the battle took place near Tell es-Safia, which is commonly identified with the Frankish fortress Blanche-Garde, some 35 kilometers to the east of Ascalon and about 35 kilometers to the south of Ramla.6 Abu Shama (1203–67) was a Damascene chronicler who seems to have relied heavily on al-Isfahani’s account. He provided almost identical data about the battle’s location and date.7 The great chronicle of Ibn al-Athīr (1160–1233) says little about Montgisard. The only date he provides is 24 Jumada I (18 November 1177) for the arrival of Saladin’s army at Ascalon. Unfortunately, he did not specify when Saladin continued northwards to Ramla or when the battle took place However, he did state that the battle took place near Ramla, without referring to a specific place.8 The possibility that Saladin’s army arrived on 18 November and left three days later, as Ernoul wrote, is unlikely for two reasons: neither contemporary sources nor modern scholars suggest such a schedule, and, furthermore, it still leaves a gap of two or three unrecorded days.

3 4 5 6 7 8

WT, XXI, 19 (20)–22(23), 992; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 432. W. Stubbs (ed.), Itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis Ricardi (London. 1864), p. 358. Prawer, 1: 553, n.16; Denys Pringle, Secular Buildings in the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem (Cambridge, 1997), p. 116. Lutz Richter-Bernburg, Der syrische blitz (Beirut, 1998), pp. 22–3 (in Arabic). Abu Shama, Kitāb al-Rawdatayn fi Ahbār al-Dawlatayn, ed. M. Hilmi and M. Ahmad, 3 vols. (Cairo, 1998), 1/2: 699–700 (in Arabic). Ibn al-Athīr, Al Kāmil fi‘-Ta‘rik, ed. Carl J. Tornberg, 13 vols. (Beirut, 1966), 11: 442–43 (in Arabic).

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Previous Studies Scholars have usually asserted that the Franks managed to surprise the Muslim army that encamped near Montgisard. Runciman, Prawer and Smail did not pay heed to basic problems, such as: When did the Muslim army arrive in this area? Why it was there in the first place? and how had it managed to advance at such a formidable pace?9 Prawer seems to have been aware of the problematic nature of the data he used. Thus, he did not specify when the Muslim army invaded the kingdom, and described the battle in a way which suggests that many events took place prior to 24 November, when Saladin’s camp was seen near Ascalon. He also wrote that during the battle Saladin was somewhere between Montgisard and Tell es-Safi (Blanche-Garde). The clear intent was to reconcile the contradictory sources. That method can be useful in specific cases, but it seems that in this case it has been excessively used. Jackson and Lyons preferred to suggest that the battle took place near Blanche-Garde. They opined that for the battle to have occurred near to Montgisard would have implied an extraordinary speed on the part of both armies, especially that of the Muslims. This is true; yet, it contradicts Ibn al-Athīr as well as the Frankish descriptions.10 Hamilton suggested that Saladin departed Ascalon either on 22 or 23 November and that the battle took place near Tel Gezer (Montgisard) on 25 November.11 Thus, the location of the battle and the timing of Saladin’s movements prior to the combat are problems that have not yet been satisfactorily resolved. Discussion The sources apparently disagree on two fundamental issues: the battle’s location and the timing of the movements preceding the battle. At first sight, the divergence between Frankish and Muslim sources seems impossibly wide, but this is perhaps not the case. William of Tyre and Ernoul agree on the date and location. The battle took place near to Montgisard on Saint Catherine’s day, 25 November.12 Neither author explicitly provides the date Saladin departed from Ascalon, yet the sequence of the events narrated by them seems to imply that he did it during the day before the battle. Since Montgisard is about fifty kilometers from Ascalon by any possible road, it seems unlikely that a medieval army really advanced fast enough to meet the schedule proposed by Prawer, Runciman and Smail.13 9

10 11 12 13

Prawer, 1: 550–52; Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols. (Cambridge, 1952), 2: 416–17 [Runciman]; Raymond C. Smail, Crusading Warfare, 2nd ed., ed. Christopher Marshal (Cambridge, 1995), p. 185 [Smail]. Malcolm M. C. Lyons and D. E. P. Jackson, Saladin: The Politics of the Holy War (Cambridge, 1982), pp. 122–24. Bernard Hamilton, The Leper King and his Heirs (Oxford, 2000), pp. 134–35. David H. Farmer, Oxford Dictionary of Saints (Oxford, 1997), p. 92; Reinhold Röhricht, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Kreuzzüge, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1874), 2: 121, 127–28 n. 45. Prawer, 1: 550–52; Runciman, 2: 416–17; Smail, p. 185.



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However, a better knowledge of Saladin’s generalship could provide a possible explanation for the sequence of events. Muslim sources seem to disagree on these three issues, but agree on two others. They called this confrontation “the battle of Ramla” and maintained that the point where the battle began was near a stream. A key issue is the identification of Tell es-Safia. It seems to be an easy task, for it is commonly identified with Tell es-Safi, about thirty-five kilometers to the south of Ramla. This was also the site of the Frankish castle Blanche-Garde (186.623).14 This identification is so obvious that nobody ever challenged it. Yet, this identification is unlikely in this case for three reasons: • Tell es-Safi is far away from Ramla (approximately thirty-five kilometers). Therefore, if the battle took place there, why did Arab sources call it “the battle of Ramla”? • Frankish chronicles were able to distinguish between Tell es-Safi and Tel Gezer. Since they referred to Montgisard rather than to Blanche-Garde (the Frankish name of Tell es-Safi), it is clear that they did not refer to the last. • According to the chronicle of Ernoul, Baldwin of Ramla claimed the command of the vanguard because the combat took place in his land.15 Tell es-Safi (Blanche-Garde) did not belong to him, but to Walter of Beirut;16 and therefore, if the battle took place there, Walter of Beirut should have been the leader of the Frankish army’s vanguard, rather than Baldwin of Ramla. Therefore, it seems unlikely that this encounter took place near Tell es-Safi (Blanche-Garde). Moreover, according to the same source, the Frankish army arrived in Ibelin while it followed the Muslim army which was in Ramla. Ibelin is on the main road between Ascalon and Ramla, the long-distance route from Egypt to Syria, but Ibelin is far from the road to Tell es-Safi, which is about twenty-five kilometers south-eastwards. Therefore, I would suggest that in this case the name Tell es-Safia does not refer to the site of Blanche-Garde, but to another hill in the vicinity of Ramla, perhaps Tel Gezer itself. The meaning of the name Tell es-Safi is “the shiny mound,” likely referring to its chalky white rocks.17 Tel Gezer’s surface is also white chalk. It is likely that a foreigner who participated in a battle in this region would have described it as a white or shiny hill. I believe that the time frame presented by al-Isfahani is the most logical. The idea that Saladin departed from Ascalon on 24 November does not appear in contemporary sources. It must be emphasized that even if Saladin left Ascalon 14

15 16 17

Adrian J. Boas and Aren M. Maier, “The Frankish Castle of Blanche-Garde and the Medieval and Modern Village of Tell es-Safi in the Light of Recent Discoveries,” Crusades 8 (2009), 4 [Boas, Maier]. Ernoul, p. 44. Boas, Maier, pp. 5–6. Boas, Maier, p. 4.

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on 23 November, his army would have advanced very fast. There is no evidence that the Franks paved roads within their kingdom,18 and the sandy nature of the area between Ascalon and Ramla would certainly have slowed the advance of any armies. As both Frankish sources agree that the battle took place on Saint Catherine’s day, and as this datum is shared also by al-Isfahani, it seems that this truly was the day of the battle. This understanding is based on the identification of Tel es-Safia as near Ramla rather than Blanche-Garde, suggesting that the Muslim army rode about ninety kilometers during two short winter days. Other reconstructions, such as that the Muslim forces arrived in Tell es-Safi directly, without passing Ramla, apparently contradict all Frankish and Muslim sources which explicitly suggest the opposite. Saladin’s Army in Operation On several occasions Saladin divided his army into semi-independent units. Thus, as he invaded the Galilee in 1183 he sent various detachments to attack different Frankish targets.19 In 1187 he sent a contingent to raid Frankish territories. This invasion culminated in a decisive victory near the fountain of Cresson.20 Later in the same year, on the eve of the battle of Hattin, Saladin sent a vanguard to seize a bridgehead on the western bank of the Jordan, catching up with the army’s main force during the coming days.21 In 1177, on the occasion of the Montgisard campaign, Saladin’s army left its heavy baggage in al-‘Arish and invaded the Frankish kingdom.22 Also on this occasion Saladin sent troops, and not only scouts in advance. William of Tyre referred to the leader of this detachment, a certain converted Armenian called Ivelinus.23 Hence, it is likely that on 23 November an important unit of his army, headed by Saladin himself, departed Ascalon. Later he rode to Ramla, where he joined troops which had been in the area for some days. Different sources describe Muslim troops dispersing widely to loot the kingdom during this invasion.24 Clearly, this could not have happened during one or two short winter days if they were achieving a relatively long march, clashing with local forces and seizing some towns. But since Saladin had sent troops ahead of his own force, they could well have occupied themselves in looting. King Baldwin IV realized that he could not engage Saladin’s main force, and fell back into Ascalon, but subsequently the king realized that he was 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Smail, 204; Benjamin Z. Kedar, “The Battle of Hattin Revisited,” in The Horns of Hattin, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar (Jerusalem, 1992), p. 195. WT, XXII, 27 (26), 1050–52; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 496–97. Denys Pringle, “The Spring of the Cresson in Crusading History,” in Dei Gesta per Francos, ed. Michel Balard, Benjamin Z. Kedar and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot, 2001), 231–32. Michael Ehrlich, “The Battle of Hattin: A Chronicle of a Defeat Foretold?” Journal of Medieval Military History 5 (2007), 25–26. WT, XXI, 19 (20), 987; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 427. WT, XXI, 20 (21), 988–89; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 427–28. WT, XXI, 20 (21), 988–89; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 427–28; Ernoul, 42.



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strong enough to engage other lesser detachments.25 In summary, Saladin sent advance troops to invade the Frankish kingdom. These forces took advantage of the absence of Frankish forces and attacked various poorly defended localities. On 24 November Saladin met some of these forces in or near Ramla. Other forces remained in the area and continued harassing Frankish settlements.26 On the next day, as the encounter between the armies took place near to Montgisard, the Frankish army clashed with a portion of the entire Muslim army. This Muslim army was nonetheless larger than the Frankish army; yet, this situation certainly facilitated the Frankish victory.27 The Battlefield As stated above, the sources do not agree on the precise location of the battlefield. Frankish accounts refer to the battle of Montgisard, whereas some Muslim authors called it the battle of Ramla and others suggest that the battle took place in Tell as-Safia, which is identified by modern scholars as distant from Ramla. Montgisard is commonly identified with Tell Gezer (1425.1407), an imposing mound about eight kilometers to the south-east of Ramla.28 This identification seems logical: the place name closely reflects the Frankish name and it is quite near to Ramla. Therefore, it is likely that the Franks, who knew the terrain better than their opponents, were able to specify the hill’s name whereas the Muslims called it after the nearest city. Moreover, nobody has suggested an alternative identification for “Montgisard.” Yet this identification is not conclusive. Thus, although the Franks built a church at Montgisard in honour of Saint Catherine to commemorate their victory, no remains of a Frankish church have been found in Tel Gezer.29 Tel Gezer is midway between Jerusalem and the Mediterranean coast. Although at around 225 meters above the sea level it is not very high, it is very distinct from its surroundings and has almost a 360-degree view.30 From the sixteenth century B.C.E. until the second century B.C.E. it was the site of the most important city in this region.31 Later, during the Roman period it was replaced by Lydda as the regional centre.32 The present landscape is rather misleading; a traveler on the Tel-Aviv–­ Jerusalem highway sees an intensively cultivated area. It is a hilly region which becomes slightly higher advancing eastwards. In historical periods it has been 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

WT, XXI, 20 (21), 988–89; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 427–28. WT, XXI, 20 (21), 988–89; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 427–28. WT, XXI, 22 (23), 991; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 2: 430–31 William G. Dever, “Gezer,” ed. Ephraim Stern, The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, 5 vols. (Jerusalem, 1993–2008), 2: 496. Denys Pringle, The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, 4 vols. (Cambridge, 1993–2009), 1: 274. Ernoul, 44. Dever, “Gezer”, 496–97. Gustav Beyer, “Die Statgebiete von Diospolis und Nikopolis im 4. Jahrh. n. Chr. und ihre Grenznachbarn,” Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 56 (1933), 218–21.

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encompassed by two rivers. About ten kilometers to the south flows the Soreq River, which today is virtually a sewage canal but in the past was a significant obstacle, as indicated by the existing medieval bridge near Yavneh.33 Certainly, nobody would bother building a bridge across a dry channel whose banks are neither high nor steep. Yet, although this river was quite far from the presumed battlefield, some of its tributaries are rather near to it. Again, today most of their water is used for domestic purposes and for irrigation and therefore they are dry, but some of their springs are important and there is abundant hydrophilic flora in the environment. Thus, even nowadays the springs of Gibton (1876.6382) create a marshy area around them. To the north, about two kilometers from Tel Gezer, flows the Ayalon River. Today it is also a dry valley, but in earlier periods it was not. This is clearly evidenced by the existence of the impressive Crusader/ Mamluk bridge near Lydda.34 During the early Muslim period there was an aqueduct to Ramla from a spring whose precise location is now unknown, but its remains indicate that its source was near to the mound.35 It would appear that the aqueduct did not function during the Crusader period. Yet, if its source was still active, water would have leaked from the aqueduct and created an artificial stream, an additional obstacle to be overcome very near to Montgisard. The physical obstacle was not limited to the water itself, because there would have been a dense hydrophilic flora beyond each bank. To conclude: in the Crusader period the general area of the battlefield included dense hydrophilic flora, and was cut by various streams, one of which should have been the swamp called by William of Tyre “Cannetum Esturnellorum.” The Pre-Battle Stage The chronicle of Ernoul includes some details about events that have been ignored by William of Tyre. According to Ernoul, the Frankish army followed the army of Saladin. As the Muslims departed Ascalon and continued towards Ramla, the Frankish army left the city and encamped in Ibelin. The next morning the Franks continued, and the two armies clashed near Tel Gezer, called by the Franks Montgisard. There they were able to surprise Saladin’s army and to defeat it.36 Ibelin is nearer than Ramla to Ascalon (35 kilometers versus 50 kilometers). Therefore, if a Muslim force was able to reach Ramla in one or two days, a Frankish troop could arrive in Ibelin. While staying in Ibelin the

33 34

35 36

Charles Clermont-Ganneau, Archaeological Researches in Palestine, 2 vols. (Jerusalem, 1971), 2: 173–74. Ronnie Ellenblum, “The Crusader Road to Jerusalem,” in Historical-Geographical Studies in the Settlement of Eretz-Israel, ed. Yehoshua Ben-Arieh, Yossi Ben-Artzi and Haim Goren, 2 vols. (Jerusalem 1987–1991), 1: 215–18 (in Hebrew). Amir Gorzalczani, “The Ramla Aqueduct,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. Ephraim Stern, 5 vols. (Jerusalem 1993–2008), 5: 2010. Ernoul, 42–5.



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Table 1. Distances in Israel’s southern coastal plain. From Ascalon1 Ascalon2 Ascalon3 Ramla4 Ibelin5

To Ibelin Ramla Blanche-Garde Blanche-Garde Blanche-Garde

As a crow flies 28 km 40 km 25 km 26 km 19 km

Distances Modern roads Estimated distance 1177 34 km 34 km 55 km 50 km 40 km 35 km 53 km 35 km 55 km 25 km

1. The historical and modern road from Ascalon to Ibelin are identical. 2. The modern road from Ascalon to Ramla is slightly longer than the historical road. 3. There is no direct modern road between Ascalon and Blanche-Garde. 4. There is no direct modern road between Blanche-Garde and Ramla. 5. There is no direct modern road between Blanche-Garde and Ibelin.

Frankish King had three options for the next day’s campaign: to attack Saladin’s army in or around Ramla, to initiate a battle elsewhere or to avoid the confrontation. The events of the next day suggest that he chose the second option. Saladin certainly knew that the Frankish army was in Ibelin. If his army was as dispersed as various sources suggest, somebody should have seen the advancing Frankish army. Yet it seems that the initiative rested with the Franks. The Franks were not familiar with Saladin’s plans, though they probably feared the worst. William of Tyre and Ernoul indicate that Saladin wanted to take advantage of the absence of many Frankish troops from the kingdom to attack Jerusalem.37 This is neither corroborated by Muslim sources nor by the actions of the Muslim army before the battle. The movement towards Montgisard seems to be an unlikely action for an army that wanted to attack Jerusalem. Montgisard itself, although it was near the southern Frankish road to Jerusalem, is still a few kilometers to the south of it. If Saladin went there willingly, it is not clear what his plan was, but most likely, it was not to attack Jerusalem. In my opinion, it indicates that he arrived at Montgisard as result of a successful Frankish maneuver rather than as a premeditated plan. Saladin invaded the Frankish kingdom at the beginning of winter. This datum itself suffices to rule out the possibility that he planned to take Jerusalem. Conquering a fortified city like Jerusalem, or even just sacking it would have demanded a siege, and it would have been inadvisable to start such an operation just as winter began. Moreover, the information about a scattered army seeking booty, shared by various sources, does not support this possibility. If Saladin wanted to engage the Frankish army or to conquer Jerusalem he would have needed to keep his army under tight control. Contemporary leaders were likely to allow their forces to ravage areas they passed by during the early stages of a campaign, and this is what Saladin did on this occasion. Yet, once they wanted 37

WT, XXI, 19 (20), 987–88; Atwater-Babcock, Krey, 427–28; Ernoul, 41–2.

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to attack, they gathered forces.38 Since Muslim and Frankish sources suggest that the battle took place while some of Saladin’s troops were away, this might indicate that he moved before he was ready to attack. Therefore it is likely that Saladin planned to harass the kingdom, rather than to destroy it or to conquer its capital. In spite of this analysis it seems that the Franks genuinely feared this possibility. It is not clear whether Saladin was aware of the panic provoked by his invasion. The Franks knew the terrain much better than Saladin. Fearing his numerical superiority, they certainly discarded the option to attack him in Ramla because in this case the topography of the area presented many difficulties for them. Their move towards Ibelin indicated that they wanted to fight the Muslim army. Otherwise, they could have chosen a safer road to Jerusalem, such as the route via Hebron. Therefore, the fact that they followed Saladin clearly indicates that the Frankish king believed that he could win a battle. The Battle Baldwin knew the terrain and this enabled him to decide where the encounter would take place. To ensure it he made a clever move. He wanted Saladin’s army to move into difficult terrain in which it would be vulnerable for all its numerical superiority. Saladin, on the basis of the previous day’s experience, probably believed that his forces were able to destroy the Franks.39 Therefore, in spite of apparently having achieved his campaign’s initial goal and the absence of some of his troops, he decided to act. Baldwin passed near enough to Saladin’s camp in Ramla to persuade Saladin to follow him, but also very near to the mountains where he could escape in case he lost the day. It is also possible that he relied on the nearby fortress of Toron (Latrun).40 An interesting maneuver was that the Frankish army advanced to near the southern road to Jerusalem, namely near to the present 424 Road from Ramla to Jerusalem.41 Yet, they did not use the main road but a parallel path which was barely known to strangers. This choice suggests that the Frankish leadership decided to challenge Saladin in an area with which he was not familiar. They probably assumed that he had some knowledge of the main roads, but less about secondary routes. It is not clear to what extent Saladin knew the terrain, yet it is clear that Baldwin knew it much better and he thus succeeded in maneuvering Saladin to the place he 38

39 40 41

John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War in the Middle Ages,” in War and Government in the Middle Ages, ed. John Gillingham and James C. Holt (Woodbridge, 1984), pp. 85–6. Ya’acov Lev, Saladin in Egypt (Leiden, 1999), pp. 143–44. Denys Pringle, “Templar Castles between Jaffa and Jerusalem,” in The Military Orders, ed. Helen Nicholson, 4 vols. (Aldershot, 1994–2008), 2: 94–102. Moshe Fischer, Benjamin Isaac and Israel Roll, Roman Roads in Judaea, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1982–1996), 2: 83–4; Michael Ehrlich, “The Route of the First Crusade and the Frankish Roads to Jerusalem during the 12th Century,” Revue biblique 113 (2006), 263–83.



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wanted: a marshy area surrounded by dense hydrophilic flora. Once this goal was achieved, the battle was practically decided. In these conditions numerical superiority became a burden rather than an advantage. It demanded additional efforts to maneuver the trapped army, which fell into total chaos. Led by a local lord, who certainly knew the terrain better than anybody else on the battlefield, the Frankish army managed to defeat the Muslim army, in spite of its initial superiority. Summary Previous studies have hardly referred to the topography of the battlefield. Prawer suggested that Saladin tried to base his defense on the mound, whereas Hamilton wrote that the Muslim army arrived in Tel Gezer;42 both imply that the Franks not only overcame Saladin’s numerical superiority but also began the battle in a position of severe topographical inferiority. Analyses usually attribute the victory to Saladin’s over-confidence and to the lack of discipline within his rank and file. What is suggested here is that there was nothing miraculous in the Frankish victory. It seems that Saladin underestimated his opponents’ skills. His campaign was initially designed to harass the Franks, not to destroy them. Therefore, he dispersed his army in order to inflict as much damage as possible on the Frankish kingdom. The Franks, who were unaware of Saladin’s intentions, feared that his plan was more ambitious than this. Therefore, Baldwin decided to risk his army and to initiate a full-scale encounter. Considering the events that preceded the battle, it seems that it was a well calculated risk. The Muslim army was dispersed, and Saladin did not know the terrain. Baldwin’s maneuver tempted the Muslim leader into battle because a decisive victory could have led to the annihilation of the Frankish army. Saladin assumed that his army, even if in the morning of 25 November not all his forces were available, was strong enough to win if not to destroy the enemy totally. Saladin was apparently still under the influence of the previous days’ events: a Frankish army had preferred to flee into a fortified city rather than to confront the Muslims. Moreover, the Muslims had enjoyed some local successes during the campaign like the conquest of Ramla. Apparently, he did not realize how his moves were understood by the Frankish side and how desperate they were. As the battle erupted it became clear that these working hypotheses were not correct. The Frankish leadership choose a battlefield which neutralized the Muslims’ advantages and maximized their own. In these circumstances the results of the battle are not surprising at all.

42

Prawer, 2: 552; Hamilton, no. 11, 135.

6 The Military Effectiveness of Alan Mercenaries in Byzantium, 1301–13061 Scott Jessee and Anatoly Isaenko

Byzantine military events in the early fourteenth century have captured the imagination of Western scholars for well over a century, thanks to the participation of Spanish mercenaries in the Catalan Company led by the flamboyant Roger de Flor. The important contribution to this military adventure made by another company of mercenaries composed entirely of Alans has been grossly underestimated when not totally ignored by both Western and Russian historians. Since the Alans were implicated in the disastrous defeat of the Byzantines in Anatolia as well as the first historical success of the Turkish leader Osman, eponymous founder of the Ottoman state, examining the specific role of these warriors may shed light on the military debacle that the Byzantines suffered at the hands of the Turks and Catalans in the first decade of the fourteenth century. Despite its importance, the military effectiveness of this company while contributing to the defense of the empire has never been examined in detail, so that the question remains: why did a Mongol-trained division of considerable military potential fail so spectacularly? The appearance of the Alans in Byzantine service first attracted attention because scholars in Western Europe, especially Spain, have long been fascinated by the adventures of the Catalan Company, comparing its exploits in the East with those of Cortez and Pizarro in the Americas. Although composed of Aragonese, Calabrians, and Sicilians, it is usually referred to as the Catalan Company since most of the officers and men were from Catalonia. Its backbone was the Almugavars, tough light infantry from the Aragonese lands of the united kingdom of Aragon-Catalonia.2 Thus Spanish scholars have been particularly interested in the Company’s history. In the process they have taken note of the Catalans’ interaction with an equally important mercenary company in Byzantine service composed entirely of Alans. The first was the Aragonese Francisco de Moncada in Expedición de los Catalanes y aragoneses contra los turcos y

1 2

An earlier version of this article appeared in Russian as “Alanskaya ekspeditsiya v Vizantiyu v 1301–1306 g.g.,” Daryal 4 (2010), 208–25. Mark C. Bartusis, The Late Byzantine Army: Arms and Society, 1204–1453 (Philadelphia, 1992), p. 78.

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griegos, written in 1620.3 Moncada was a careful scholar who compared and assessed all the eyewitness and contemporary accounts, both Catalan and Greek, to produce a balanced and judicious history that featured the Alans prominently whenever their paths crossed those of the Catalans. Since Moncada, the most important of the modern Spanish scholars was the late-nineteenth-century Catalan historian Antonio Rubió y Lluch who devoted much of his life to a detailed study of the Catalan Company.4 His numerous studies are the starting point for most subsequent research. In 1972 Alfonso Lowe made the fruits of the research of Rubió y Lluch and others available to the English-speaking world in The Catalan Vengeance.5 Lowe, while not a historian, was a first-rate writer and enough of a scholar to get most of his facts straight. More recently another Catalan scholar, Agustí Alemany, has focused his attention specifically on the Alans.6 Though much of his work is published in Catalan or Castilian, his Sources on the Alans is available in English. Other than Alemany, however, none of these Western scholars was particularly interested in the Alans except as their story intersected that of the Catalans, first as fellow mercenaries serving the Byzantines and then as the bitterest of enemies. Setton’s Catalan Domination of Athens 1311–1388 dealt with the duchy of Athens with only a brief summary of events before 1311 that does not mention the Alans.7 Likewise Rennell Rodd’s Princes of Achaia and Chronicles of the Morea takes minimal notice of the Alans. Jep Pascot, a more recent French author, has some interesting observations in Les almugavares but

3

4

5

6

7

Written in Spanish rather than Catalan, the first edition was published in Barcelona by Lorenzo Deu in 1630. Since then it has gone through numerous editions and translations. The one we have used is Frances Hernández’ English translation, The Catalan Chronicle of Francisco de Moncada (El Paso, 1975). In Catalan, Antoni Rubió i Lluch. The most important of his works on this topic are La companyía Catalana sota el Comandament de Teobald de Çepoy, 1307–1310 (Barcelona, 1923); La Espedición y Dominación de los Catalans en Oriente juzgadas por los Griegos, Memórias de la Real Acadamia de Buenos Letras de Barcelona, vol. IV (Barcelona, 1893); “Nicéforo Gregoras y la expedición de los Catalanes á Oriente,” Museo Balear de Historia y Literatura, Ciencias y Artes, 2nd ser., 2 (1885), 401–8, 522–28, 561–74, 601–11 (a translation of relevant sections of Gregoras into Spanish); Paquimeres y Muntaner. Memóries de la secció històrico - arqueològica del Institut d’Estudis Catalans, vol. 1 (Barcelona, 1927). Alfonso Lowe, The Catalan Vengeance (London and Boston, MA, 1972). Lowe was the pen name of Dr. L. J. A. Loewenthat, a dermatologist with an intimate knowledge of Spain and a gift for writing. His work was respectfully reviewed by D. M. Nicol in The English Historical Review 89 (1974), 661, who thought it a good account of the affair “within its limitations.” Agustí Alemany, Sources on the Alans: A Critical Compilation, Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 8, 5 (Leiden, 2000); idem, “Alans contra Catalans a Bizanci (I): L’Origen dels Alans de Girgon,” Faventía 12/13 (1990), 269–78. Alemany is the only scholar in any language to look specifically at the Alans in this context. Apparently he plans a series of articles on this topic of which this is the first. Kenneth M. Setton, Catalan Domination of Athens: 1311–1388, (Cambridge, MA, 1948), pp. 2–4.



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generally slights the Alans.8 More recently Kelly DeVries has examined the Almugavars at the battle of Kephissos, but the Alans were outside his scope.9 Nevertheless the violent interaction of the Alans and the Catalans was crucial to the failure of the Byzantine effort to keep the Catalans under control. Without it the Byzantine paymasters might very well have been able to prevent the notorious “Catalan Vengeance.” Fortunately, contemporary sources for the exploits of the Alan contingent are relatively full for this time and place and most have been translated into modern Western languages. The major source used by Western scholars interested in the Catalan Company is the Crónica written by Ramón Muntaner, a Catalan officer of the Company.10 Aside from being a natural storyteller, Muntaner himself was a participant in the thick of the action, and as chief financial officer had access to all the account books. Muntaner wrote in medieval Catalan but his chronicle has been translated into several modern languages.11 While enthusiastically supporting the Catalan perspective, including their disdain for the Byzantines, Muntaner admired the fighting qualities of the Alans and provides some vital information about them. To assess the military effectiveness of the Alans properly, however, the relevant Greek sources must be consulted. The best Byzantine source is undoubtedly the Historia of George Pachymeres (c. 1242–1310), the fullest and most complete general source on events within the empire from 1256 to 1307.12 Pachymeres is particularly good in his coverage of the Alan expedition, about which he seems to have been well informed. He was a very learned man for the times and had close contacts with two emperors, Michael VIII and his son Andronikos II (1261–1308).13 Unfortunately he wrote in a deliberately difficult 8 9 10

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Jep Pascot, Les almugavares: mercenaires Catalans du Moyen Age (1302–1388) (Brussels, 1971). Kelly DeVries, Infantry Warfare in the Early Fourteenth Century: Discipline, Tactics, and Technology (Woodbridge, 1996), pp. 58–65. Ramón Muntaner, Crónica Catalana, ed. Antonio de Bofarull (Barcelona, 1860). There are many other editions such as Nicolau d’Olwer, Ramón Muntaner. L’expedició dels Catalans a Orient (Barcelona, 1926). English translations are Lady Goodenough, The Chronicle of Muntaner, 2 vols. (London, 1920, 1921), available on the internet, and Robert D. Hughes, The Catalan Expedition to the East: from the ‘Chronicle’ of Ramon Muntaner (Woodbridge, 2006). French trans. by J. A. Buchon, Chronique de Ramon Muntaner (Paris, 1827; reprint 2010). A new French translation has been made by Jean-Marie Babrerà, Les Almogavres: l’expédition des Catalans en Orient: Ramón Muntaner (Toulouse, 2002). Selections have been published in Russian in the translation by K. Kochiev and D. Medoev of Agustí Alemany, Alani v drevnkikh I srednevekovykh istochnikah (Moscow, 2003). There is a fine new edition by Albert Failler with French translation by Vitalien Laurent (except for vol. 4), Georges Pachymérès. Relations historiques, 4 vols. Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae (Paris, 1984–1999). The material on the Alans is in vol. 4, translated by Failler. Older works still cite the Greek edition of I. Bekker, Georgii Pachymeres de Michaele et Andronico Palaeologis, 2 vols. (Bonn, 1835). For details of his life and work see Nathan John Cassidy, “A Translation and Historical Commentary on Book One and Book Two of Gregorios Pachymeres” (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Western Australia, 2004) available on the internet.

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and complicated style that is sometimes confusing. Worse, he freely admits that when it is not politic to tell certain truths, he simply omits them. Yet Pachymeres also claims to have either personally seen the events he wrote about or investigated them by interviewing eyewitnesses and comparing their accounts. Where Pachymeres can be checked against other sources he is generally accurate. This is crucial when we compare Pachymeres with both Muntaner’s memoir and other, later, Greek sources.14 Nevertheless the usual caveat remains for all the sources discussed here: how well do their authors understand military matters in general? The second Greek source is Nikephoros Gregoras’ Historia Rhomäike, written a generation later.15 While easier to read than Pachymeres, Gregoras’ deficiencies as a historian and lack of personal knowledge of events mean that if the two Greek sources are not in agreement, Pachymeres is usually to be preferred. Although Gregoras sometimes adds details that must be taken into account he is particularly confused and uninformative on military matters.16 Since Pachymeres was one of his main sources it is difficult to tell when he is simply re-editing his source by his own imagination or when he may be using other sources now lost to us. Such are the major sources available for reconstructing the brief but underappreciated expedition of the Alans in the service of Andronikos II and his son Michael IX. The two emperors were facing a desperate military situation in Anatolia at the dawn of the fourteenth century. Put simply, they had no fleet, few troops, and little money. The Turks dominated the central Anatolian plateau and were moving on the last of the imperial coastal cities.17 Understandably, as Pachymeres tells us, when 16,000 Alans, more than 8,000 of whom were warriors, presented themselves at the Bulgarian border in 1301, “their arrival was regarded as divine intervention bringing aid.”18 The Byzantines had cause to regard the arrival of the Alans as providential. Originally the Alans, a North Iranian nation, had been a powerful confederation on the steppes north of the Black Sea and the Caucasus. They had a serious and 14

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For an assessment of Pachymeres as a historical source see Angeliki E. Laiou, Constantinople and the Latins: The Foreign Policy of Andronicus II, 1282–1328 (Cambridge, MA, 1972), 345–47 and Alemany, Sources on the Alans, pp. 213–18. The version we have consulted is Rhomäische Geschicte, trans. and commentary by Jan Louis van Dieten, Bibliothek der Griechischen Literatur 4 (Stuttgart, 1973). The Greek edition is still Nicephori Gregorae Byzantina Historia, ed. L. Shopen, 3 vols. (Bonn, 1829, 1830, 1855). For an assessment of Gregoras see: Laiou, Constantinople, pp. 348–49. Alemany, Sources on the Alans, does not mention Gregoras. For Andronikos II’s reign see Laiou, Constantinople, and eadem, “The Palaiologoi and the World Around Them (1261–1400),” in The Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire, c. 500–1492, ed. Jonathan Shepard (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 803–34. For the military situation, Bartusis, Late Byzantine Army, esp. pp. 67–84. Pachymeres, 4: 338–39, 10.16. Gregoras, Rhomäische Geschicte, chap. 10, p. 358, gives the date as 1300 and puts their total number at 10,000. He refers to the Alans as “Massagetae,” just as he and other Byzantine writers called the Mongols and Tatars “Scythians,” although the previous generation had used that term for the Cumans.



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for long unappreciated impact on the Late Roman Empire.19 Throughout the Middle Ages the Alans, settled along both slopes of the Caucasus and the steppes to the north, formed a powerful kingdom, until in 1238 a large Mongol army invaded Alania and began the difficult conquest of the Alans. The onslaught was only partially successful, but after a difficult siege in 1239 the Alan capital *Magas was destroyed.20 Waves of Alanic migrations spread from this center after its destruction. Large numbers of Alans entered the service of the Mongol Khans.21 Alans were particularly prized for their fighting qualities and as many as thirty thousand are said to have served as elite troops for the Great Khan in China.22 One such group was recruited by the Mongol leader Nogai to serve in his highly efficient army recruited from among several nationalities in the western realms of the Golden Horde. Nogai’s troops are invariably referred to as “Tatars” in sources from the era and there is no indication that they were any less effective than any other branch of the Turco-Mongol armies of the time. Pachymeres even claimed that Nogai owed his success to his Alan troops.23 In other words, the Alans who arrived on the Byzantine border seem to have previously been a distinctive tümen within an army trained up to the standards of the Mongol empire. As Pachymeres put it, they had adopted the customs, dress, and even the language of the Tatars.24 This is an important point. The Mongol military system made use of conquered peoples, often organizing them into divisions of ten thousand, the famous tümen, to serve besides Mongol and Tatar tümens. The Alans offering their services to the Byzantines in 1301 made it clear that they were used to fighting as a single trained group under their own officers. This reflects the core of the Mongol military system: a distinct chain of command enforcing iron discipline. Marco Polo pointed out that the commander-in-chief only had to give orders to ten people, who each in turn gave the order to ten people, and so on down to the lowliest soldier. “And everyone in turn is responsible only to the officer immediately over him; and the discipline and order that comes of this method is marvelous, for they are a people very obedient to their chiefs.”25 It was an efficient and highly flexible system. What the Byzantines were being handed in effect was an organized and experienced tümen of the Mongol mili19

20 21 22 23 24 25

Earlier the Alans, an Iranian-speaking nation, had been a powerful confederation north of the Black Sea. Bernard S. Bachrach, A History of the Alans in the West (Minneapolis, MN, 1973), was one of the first scholars to appreciate their impact on the West during the collapse of the Roman Empire. The name *Magas is reconstructed by Minorsky from various renderings in Arabic, Persian, Chinese, and Mongolian sources, as explained in Alemany, “Alans contra Catalans,” 271. Vladimir Kouznetsov and Iaroslav Lebedynsky, Les Alains: cavaliers des steppes, seigneurs du Caucase (Paris, 1997), pp. 122–26; Alemany, “Alans contra Catalans,” 274–76. J. J. Saunders, The Mongol Conquests (London, 1971; Philadelphia, 2001), p. 126. Pachymeres, 4: 336–37, 10.16. Alemany, “Alans contra Catalans,” 275. Timothy Michael May, Mongol Art of War (Yardley, PA, 2007), p. 32 and n. 18 p. 162, quoting Marco Polo.

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tary establishment. Given the well deserved reputation of the Mongol army, this was a considerable enhancement of the Byzantine military force.26 The Alans had before then faithfully served their Mongol commander Nogai, a talented and charismatic member of the Chinggisid clan ruling the Golden Horde. In 1277 he found himself excluded from succession by Mongol law as descended from Jochi through the female rather than the male line. Nevertheless his ambition turned to creating his own khanate from the appanage granted him, by recruiting Alans and others into his army. Both Alemany and Vásáry think that Nogai rewarded the Alans in his new international force with hereditary grants of land in Moldavia, where to this day there is a modern Romanian city called Iaşi (compare Hungarian “Jassos” for “Alans”).27 When Nogai and his sons attempted to establish their own khanate, or ulus, the Khan of the Golden Horde, Toqtai, defeated and killed Nogai at the battle of Kügenlik in 1299–1300.28 Nogai had close ties with the Byzantines, married an illegitimate daughter of Emperor Michael VIII, and at one point sent soldiers to aid the emperor when he was in need. It is possible that some of these “Tatar” soldiers were Alans. At any rate the Alans seem to have known exactly what they were doing when they broke free from service to the Khans after Nogai was killed in battle in 1299. Pachymeres himself says that the Alans were Christians and “friends of the Romans from of old.” Gregoras also mentions that the Alans who contacted Andronikos were Christians forced against their will to serve in the Mongol armies and especially resented having to obey “unbelievers” (Nogai had converted to Islam).29 The Alans had been Orthodox Christians since the first patriarchate of Nicolas Mysticus (901–07) when many Byzantine missionaries had been sent to Alania. Eventually Alania was raised to the rank of a metropolia, an act marking the increasingly important diplomatic ties between the Alans and Byzantium.30 During the whole of the Comnenian era Byzantine documents record a series of political marriages between members of the Byzantine imperial family and high-ranking Alan princesses as well as the constant presence of Alan mercenaries in Byzantine armies.31 Perhaps more to

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May, Mongol Art of War, in general for the Mongol army. Alemany, “Alans contra Catalans,” p. 275. István Vásáry, Cumans and Tatars: Oriental Military in the Pre-Ottoman Balkans, 1185–1305 (Cambridge, 2005), pp. 88–98, has the best reconstruction of the breakaway ulus, but see also Alemany, “Alans contra Catalans,” pp. 276–77. Gregoras, Rhomäische Geschicte, chap. 6.10, p. 358. Vladimir Kuznetsov, Ocherki istorii Alan [Sketches of Alan History] (Ordzkonikidze, 1986), pp. 313–14 for the conversion. Yu. A. Kulakovsky, Alani po svederniyam klassicheskikh i vizantiiskikh pistelei [The Alans according to the Evidence in Classical and Byzantine Writers] (Kiev, 1899), pp. 7–10. Alemany, Sources on the Alans, p. 207. For diplomatic and matrimonial ties between the Comneni Byzantines and the Alans, see Sergei N. Malakhov, “Alano-Vizantiiskie zametki” [Alano-Byzantine Notes] in Alany: istoria i kul’tura [The Alans: History and Culture], ed.Vitalii Kh. Tmenov (Vladikavkaz, 1995), pp. 376–89; idem, “Little Known Evidence on the



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the point, Nogai was on good terms with the Palaeologian emperors. His erstwhile Alan tümen knew exactly how to approach the Empire, and the positive reception they were likely to find there. The Alans reached the border through Bulgaria and contacted the bishop of Bitzina at the mouth of the Danube. They asked the bishop to intercede with Andronikos and offer him their services in his struggle against the Turks in Anatolia, where the Byzantines’ situation was “wretched and serious.”32 Andronikos was delighted, especially since the Alans had acquired a good reputation as elite fighters in Nogai’s army. Pachymeres refers to them as a “great hearted (μεγάθυμου) nation,” men “who had fought at Nogai’s side and it was thanks to them that he had obtained great success.”33 Imperial letters were immediately sent to them, inviting them into the empire. Care was taken that sufficient supplies were provided for them from Thrace and Macedonia. Andronikos sent imperial officials to the Alans to ensure that their passage was smooth with sufficient guides to lead the way. The Alans departed from Bulgaria together with their women and children in their wagons and carts just as a Mongol tümen would.34 Andronikos levied public contributions to pay their wages and furnished them with horses and arms taken from his own troops. The scope and size of these requisitions resulted in bitter feelings both from the Byzantine public and from the troops, which implies that the Alans were largely reequipped for the coming campaign. The Greek sources make it clear that imperial authorities were investing a lot in the success of these Alan warriors. Pachymeres says this was partly because Andronikos no longer trusted native troops and partly because the Alans were believed to be such brave warriors. It is not, however, clear why the Alans needed to be so completely reequipped that the exactions would be such a burden. It may simply be that after fleeing the Mongol army their horses were done in and their equipment either lost or worn out. More likely it had not been possible for the Alans to escape from Toqtai’s Mongols in the aftermath of Kügenlik with their heavy equipment and sufficient remounts demanded by their tactics. They seem to have fled south to Bitzina, away from their supply stations. Refugees fleeing a regime from which they could expect little consideration in the wake of a disastrous battle clearly needed to receive new equipment, fresh horses, and pay. All of this was a major burden on the dwindling resources of the empire and, at least according to Pachymeres, caused deep resentment among nobility and soldiers. Unfortunately for this plan the emperor, or officials under his direction, made decisions that would seriously degrade the fighting efficiency of the Alans. The

32 33 34

Alans from the ‘Vita’ of Pheodor Adesky,” in Vitalii Kh. Tmenov, Alani: Zapadnaya i Yevropa Vizantiya [Alans: Western Europe and Byzantium] (Vladikavkaz, 1992), pp. 135–49. Pachymeres, 4: 338–39, 10.16; Gregoras, 6.10, p. 358. Pachymeres, 4: 336–337, 10.16. Muntaner clearly knew this, writing that the Alans “all had their wives and children there, for the Alans live after the manner of the Tartars; they always march with all their belongings,” p. 446, Goodenough trans.

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Alans, who had been used to fighting as a coherent unit under Nogai, now “asked to make the campaign there [in Anatolia] in the same fashion, that is to say, all together so that they could support each other in combat.”35 This is further evidence that the Alans had fought as a distinct tümen of ten thousand men under their own officers within Nogai’s Mongol army. The men of a tümen were subject to ferocious discipline and were expected to act as a unit though the tümen itself could be broken up into smaller units.36 Later, when one of the Alan detachments went wild and attacked the Greek population in Anatolia “as if they were enemies,” and yet could still fight effectively against the Turks, Pachymeres attempted to explain their behavior: “they appeared to have martial courage, but with the indiscipline of barbarians: all prepared to behave well [but only] if they were found under the command of an emperor, as they despised the other chiefs.”37 Here “the other chiefs” seem to mean Byzantine officers. Exactly who the Alan commanders were is obscure. There is one chief, Girgon, mentioned by the Catalan Muntaner as their cap, chief. Called Georgous, or George, by the Byzantines, he only appears for certain after the Catalans were engaged in 1304.38 Later another leader is mentioned by Pachymeres as “their chief Kyrsites,” but since this is the only appearance of an individual with this name his exact position is unknown.39 Nevertheless it seems likely that some form of strong leadership had led them from the Golden Horde to the borders of Byzantium as an intact unit and Girgon is the most likely commander. His name perhaps gives us a final indication of his importance. In Alano-Ossetian goyr(y)kond =gyrkon. Thus we have Girkon as a name meaning “backbone, main support,” or simply “great man,” that is, a “leader.” Girgon was thus a Catalan transliteration of his original Alanic title while George was his Christian name. George was and still is the patron saint of Ossetia-Alania.40 Pleading unspecified “difficulties,” the Byzantine high command ignored the Alans’ request to fight as a unit and split them into three separate detachments, sending the greatest number to the East, others to Mouzalon, the heteriarch in 35 36 37 38

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Pachymeres, 338–39, 10.16. May, Mongol Art of War, p. 47. May thinks that this discipline “may have been Chinggis Khan’s greatest achievement.” Pachymeres, 4: 340–41, 10.16. Muntaner, Pachymeres. 4: 464–65, 11.21. It seems to have been the habit of Byzantine writers to ascribe a Christian name to foreigners that sounded at least vaguely like their original name. Pachymeres calls him Georgous. Pachymeres, 4: 626–27, XIII.4. The first element of this name is virtually the same as the first syllable of Girgon’s name as given by Muntaner but is probably another individual. In AlanoOssetian “kyristī/kiriste” means Christ, “kiriston/kiristan” consequently means Christian. Thus the name would appear to be a Greek transliteration of the Alano-Ossetian personal name Christian as Kirsites. See Vasilii Abaev, Istoriko-etimologicheskii slovar’osetinskogo yazyka (Historico-Ethnicological Dictionary of the Ossetian Language), vol. 1 (Moscow and Leningrad, 1949), p. 613. Abaev, Istoriko-etimologicheskii, p. 531. The etymology is by Anatoly Isaenko, based on data on the Alano-Ossetian language. Here we should note that Isaenko was raised and educated in North Ossetia speaking both Russian and Ossetian.



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charge of the defenses of Halizones, and the pick of the Alans to Andronikos’ son, the inexperienced Emperor Michael IX. Unfortunately the strength of each section is unstated. The situation in Anatolia had deteriorated to the point that the Byzantines felt it required the direct intervention of the younger emperor at the head of the troops.41 The accounts of Pachymeres and Gregoras allow us to follow the actions of all three divisions of the Alan contingent, at least in outline. In any case the Byzantines destroyed whatever unity there had ever been, “so that there was no longer between them either mutual respect or mutual support.”42 The separate detachments would seem to be serving among Byzantine troops and under the overall command of Byzantine commanders. Girgon in any case could no longer exercise command over the smaller contingents. Pachymeres, who is sympathetic to the Alans’ situation, clearly blames the ensuing breakdown in discipline on the Byzantine decision to split up the tümen. The unspecified “difficulties” requiring this action in Pachymeres’ account are puzzling, but it is important to keep this fundamental mistake in mind. Discipline in the first detachment broke down almost as soon as it was sent across to Anatolia. Pachymeres says that they immediately began “neglecting their chiefs,” and “inflicted great evils on the Romans.”43 In a word, the Alans pillaged the rich countryside of the Romans as if they were enemies. Perhaps the Alans were demoralized by this fragmentation and directed their anger against the Greek commanders who did not understand their Alanic traditions and tactics. If the Greeks had failed to arrange regular supplies for their families, Alanic custom allowed forays to get such provisions, which they would have been compelled to in any case. This was the single worst breakdown in the Alans’ expedition and Pachymeres clearly associates it with a problem of trust in their leaders. Still, otherwise well informed and sympathetic to the Alans, the Greek writer is vague about what really happened. In any case, they were somehow recalled to their standards, reunited with the Byzantine forces, and at Chena won a fine but minor victory over a Turkish raiding party, capturing prisoners and booty.44 The Byzantine historian once again praises the Alans’ courage but says that they were utterly undisciplined as barbarians, being willing to behave well only under the command of an emperor. Here, as elsewhere, the ‘chiefs’ are evidently Byzantine officers rather than their own officers whom they had followed in the long trek after the death of Nogai. Nowhere else does Pachymeres scorn them as barbarians. Alemany believes that afterwards this group joined the army gathered around Michael IX.45 This would mean that the emperor commanded the bulk of the original eight thousand Alans. 41 42 43 44 45

Pachymeres, 4: 338–39, 10.16 and ibid. note 2 by Failler. Gregoras, p. 358, makes the same point about Andronikos’ distrust of Byzantine troops. Pachymeres, 4: 338–39, 10. 16. Pachymeres, 4: 338–41, 10.16. Pachymeres, 4: 340–41, 10.16. Failler cannot identify the place but says it must be on the Hellespont. Gregoras’ account is much more confused and probably overstated. Alemany, Sources, p. 216.

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The second group formed from the original eight thousand Alans was sent to Heteriarch Muzalon who commanded Byzantine forces in Bithynia. Osman, a petty Turkish leader from Bithynia, here makes his first solid appearance in history, having already defeated Muzalon in an earlier fight. Other Turks now flocked to his banner and these combined forces threatened Nicomedia.46 Despite having only two thousand troops, half of whom were Alans, Muzalon decided to fight on 27 July 1302 at Bapheus, about five kilometers from Nicomedia.47 It was a disaster. After making an initial advance and taking some losses the Byzantine troops ran away and left the Alan cavalry to cover their retreat. Pachymeres alleges that one reason for this desertion was resentment on the part of the native troops at having been despoiled of their own horses and gear to equip the Alans. As the Byzantines fled towards Nicomedia it was left to the Alans to cover their retreat, delaying the enemy foot by foot so that “the swarm of [fleeing] foot soldiers drew up together and slipped away to escape.”48 Pachymeres categorically states that the Alans deliberately endured heavy casualties in order to give the fugitives time to regroup and escape. If they had been abandoned by the Byzantine troops out of resentment, as Pachymeres claims, the fact would go far in explaining later problems of morale among the Alans. Afterwards it was left to the Turks to range over the country plundering, so that the inhabitants fled towards the coast. This victory was of crucial importance in Osman’s ability to take a commanding position among the various Turkish chieftains. The ultimate end of this process would be the founding of the Ottoman Empire. Earlier the Emperor Michael IX had been sent the third detachment of the Alan elite to add to the large army he was collecting in Anatolia. While all sources agree that Michael was personally brave he was just twenty-four years old and untested in warfare.49 Around Easter (22 April) he moved towards Magnesia on the Hermus against the Turks. Initially at the sight of this imposing force the Turks retreated into fortified posts among passes debouching from the mountains overlooking the city’s plain occupied by the Alan and Byzantine cavalry. These mountain passes and their forts seriously threatened Byzantine control as they were the gateways leading from the Turkish grazing lands on the central plateau to the Byzantine agricultural lands of the coastal plains.50 This was the fundamental military problem faced by the Byzantines: Turks from 46

47

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Halil Inalcik, “Osmān Ghāzi’s Siege of Nicaea and the Battle of Bapheus,” in The Ottoman Emirate (1300–1389). Halcyon Days in Crete I: A Symposium held in Rethymnon 11–13 January 1991, ed. Elisabeth Zachariadou (Crete University, 1994), pp. 79–99, for the few Turkish sources on the campaign. It is available on the internet at deremilitari.org. Pachymeres, 4: 358–59, note 41 by Failler for the location; Inalcik, “Osmān Ghāzi’s Siege,” p. 92, who identifies it as the Turkish Yalak-Ovasi on the flat plain between Yalova and Kara Mürsel. Pachymeres, 4: 366–67, 10.23, who here, at least, is fulsome in his praise of the Alans. “The emperor Michael had not actually previously been active in wars and battles.” Pachymeres, 4: 340–41, 10.17. The frontier region of Anatolia is discussed in Keith R. Hopwood, “The Byzantine-Turkish



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their staging areas on the central plateau could strike through any pass to raid agricultural lands vital to the Byzantine state. The Turks waited while carefully observing the behavior of the Alans, as Gregoras tells us. 51 The more aggressive Turkish bands came down to attack the undisciplined Alans as they roamed over the countryside plundering the inhabitants. The Alans immediately retreated. When the Emperor Michael realized that the Alans had abandoned him he retreated inside the walls of Magnesia. Here Gregoras blames everything on Alan indiscipline and fear. His account has the Alans continuing to pillage the innocent population as they retreat all the way to the Hellespont before finally crossing into Europe. Gregoras bitterly remarks, “It was as if they had been called from the Scythian country only to show the Turks a faster than necessary route to the sea.”52 In this case in particular Pachymeres’ account is preferable to that of Gregoras who, as a writer who lived from 1295 until 1360, was neither an eyewitness nor a writer with a clear understanding of military affairs. Pachymeres wrote shortly after the events when feelings about Michael’s failure must have still run deep. He nonetheless refused to blame the debacle on the most convenient scapegoats and instead blamed the imperial officers present and by implication the emperor himself. He was better informed and a better historian in general than Gregoras. While we cannot fully know what Pachymeres felt was impolitic to tell us, his account appears much more reliable.53 According to Pachymeres then, around 22 April the Emperor Michael IX, with his large force of Byzantines and the pick of the Alans, moved up to Magnesia. Rather than attacking helpless peasants, “our men” moved out into the countryside infested with marauding Turks, set ambuscades, took prisoners and “enjoyed the spoils of the enemy.”54 This seems to be what Gregoras presents as plundering the Byzantines of the countryside. The Turks retreated to fortified positions in the mountain passes and prepared “in great numbers” to meet the emperor’s forces. Michael decided to attack first and persuaded his commanders to agree. Pachymeres makes clear that the advantage lay with the Byzantines, not least because of the presence of the Alans and large numbers of native troops. Morale was high due to the emperor’s presence and the army eagerly marched forward to attack. The attack simply fell apart before contact with the enemy in one of history’s great pratfalls. Pachymeres insists that the Byzantine commanders under the emperor were overcome with fear and suspicion and forced the inexperienced

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Frontier c. 1250–1300,” Acta Viennensia Ottomanica: Akten des 13. CIEPO-Symposiums. Available on the internet at deremilitari.com. Pachymeres, 4: 340–41, 10.17, Gregoras, pp. 170–71, whose account is rather confused. Gregoras, p. 171. Alemany, Sources, pp. 213–18. Of course these “Turkish” spoils actually came from the Byzantine natives. This may be the basis for Gregoras’ invective against the Alans: the spoils would not have been returned to their rightful owners.

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Michael to abandon the attack on the grounds that it was too dangerous to the state to risk the emperor’s life in combat. One after another they expressed their reluctance and virtually forced Michael to halt the attack. “And the army, despite its mass and its preparations, returned without accomplishing anything.”55 One can only imagine what the Alans, veterans of the Mongol army under the best general of the Golden Horde, thought of this development. Anticlimax soon turned to disaster. Buoyed up by their unearned success the Turks ravaged freely through the plain of Mainomenos, causing great damage to the inhabitants while Michael and his army remained within the walls of Magnesia. Those Christians outside the walls who were not slaughtered fled to the west or to neighboring islands. Now that the defense of the mountain passes was abandoned the enemy was free to range deep within the Byzantine agricultural lands. With their one year of paid service about to expire, the Alans decided that they had had enough of such leadership. They explained to the emperor that they were not used to perpetual campaigning: that when they had campaigned with Nogai, they had fought brief, intense campaigns and then retired for rest and refitting.56 By now they almost certainly knew how the second Alan detachment had been sacrificed at Bapheus. Pachymeres thought they were now ready to fight their way out without the emperor’s permission if necessary. Michael was already being abandoned by his Anatolian troops, who were deserting in large numbers to save their own farms and families if possible. Everything now depended on keeping the Alans. He bargained with them for three additional months of service under oaths to provide them with the extra pay, and then had to write his father Andronikos for the funds. Meanwhile Turkish leaders, including once again Osman, were gathering to threaten the emperor’s dwindling forces. The Alans remained true to their oaths for the stipulated three months and then departed early in 1303. Deprived of his last effective force the emperor fled in secret from Magnesia one winter night, abandoning his men. What remained of Byzantine resistance collapsed.57 This botched campaign marked the end of Byzantine hopes for a military recovery, and on the other hand was a turning point in the rise of the house of Osman. The Alans, despite desperate measures by Andronikos II to win them over with promises, continued on to the coast, intending to cross over to Gallipoli. 55 56

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Pachymeres, 4: 344–45, 10.18. Pachymeres’ account of the Alans is both detailed and sympathetic here. Their statement about campaigns is similar to a remark made to the diplomat Priscus by a Roman serving in Attila the Hun’s court recorded nearly nine centuries earlier: “Among the Scythians, said he, men are accustomed to live at ease after a war, each enjoying what he has …” quoted in C. D. Gordon, The Age of Attila (Ann Arbor, 1972), p. 86. May, Mongol Art of War, p. 90, believes that the ferocious discipline of the Mongol army “stems from the fact that their commander looked after their troops’ interests.” This may not have been the case with the Byzantine commanders put in charge of the three Alan contingents. Pachymeres, 4: 348–49, 10.20. Given his behavior at the end of the campaign it is difficult not to blame Michael’s lack of personal leadership for the debacle.



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Their families were still on the European side and feelings must have been running high. The old emperor sent troops commanded by the Grand Domestic Alexis Rhaoul, a very high ranking officer, either to prevent the Alans from crossing or to confiscate the horses and arms which had been provided by the state.58 The Alans refused any longer to listen to imperial commands but insisted they would return to the field after a suitable period of rest. One year of constant, demanding service under the feckless Michael IX was enough. While negotiations were still going on the Alans commandeered cargo vessels and crossed the strait to a landfall of their own choosing. Pachymeres makes a curious comment that reflects specifically Alanic conceptions of personal honor: when they disembarked, “most took arms not for open battle, however, but solely to be spared possible dishonor.” This concept of keeping arms as a mark of honor is wholly consistent with Alanic custom, as still exhibited in modern Ossetia.59 When the grand domestic and his men arrived and saw this they mounted and began to push up to the Alans threateningly. The Alans pushed back. Fighting broke out and Rhaoul, offended that the Alans would dare to disobey an imperial order, rushed into the melee thinking that his mere presence would put a stop to their resistance. He was wrong and an Alan shot him dead. This shocked both sides into halting the combat. The Alans were brought to their senses, realizing that they were stranded in the midst of Byzantine territory, outnumbered, and separated from their families. According to Pachymeres, they also felt that they had dishonored their contract as warriors, “rendering evil for good.”60 Their sense of honor came to the fore again. They handed over their horses and arms and asked the emperor for pardon. These Alans remained in Byzantine service after the emperor welcomed them as suppliants and pardoned them. The Alans apparently then regrouped with their families somewhere in Thrace. From the point of view of the Alans the situation was about to get much worse. Andronikos II now turned to yet another band of foreign mercenaries: the Catalan Company under the command of the ex-Templar Roger de Flor.61 Like the Alans the Catalans came with a reputation of effectiveness—earned in years of warfare between Frederick of Aragon and Charles of Anjou in the War of the Sicilian Vespers. Unlike the Alans, however, they were lured by an even higher rate of pay, and Roger de Flor was allowed to command them as an independent unit. This was a disaster for the empire and, as it developed, for the Alans.62

58 59 60 61

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Pachymeres, 4: 350–51, 10.22. Akhsarbek Magometov, Kul’tura i byt osetinskogo naroda [Culture and Life-style of the Ossetian People] (Ordzhonikidze, 1968), chapter 1. Pachymeres, 4: 352–53, 10.22. See the sources cited in note 10 above for Muntaner in various translations. For the military aspects of the Company, Roger Sablonier, Krieg und Kriegertum in der Crònica des Ramon Muntaner (Bern and Frankfurt, 1971), esp. part 2, “Katalanisches Kriegertum,” pp. 49–128; Bartusis, Byzantine Army, esp. pp. 144–55, 199–205 and elsewhere. Pachymeres, 4: 430–31, 10.12.

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The Catalans arrived in Constantinople in September 1303. Their numbers were put by Muntaner, who was in a position to know, as 1,500 cavalry, 4,000 Almugavars and 1,000 other infantry, plus the seamen and galley slaves from their fleet. Like the Alans they traveled with women and children. Andronikos II and his court showed them great favor: high pay, higher titles for the leaders, and an imperial niece as a bride for Roger himself, now styled grand duke.63 Almost immediately the Almugavars, highly aggressive and touchy on points of personal honor, started a fight with the Genoese residing at Constantinople, resulting in numerous casualties, at least among the Genoese. The emperor himself had to intervene to stop the slaughter. To prevent any further trouble in the volatile capital the Catalans were soon sent to the Artaki Peninsula in Anatolia where they quickly won a splendid victory against the Turks. For the Byzantines things were looking up as the Catalans moved to the city of Kyzikos at the head of the peninsula for their winter encampment. At some point they were joined by the Alans under the command of their chief Girgon. Once again Pachymeres and Gregoras tell grim stories of vicious depredations against the defenseless civil population so that the Catalans were soon seen as a general curse on the people.64 To put the actions of the Alans in proper context it is significant that Gregoras and Pachymeres both agree that this was much worse than anything done by the Alans. The Alans are accused of crimes mainly against property, possibly the result of a lack of proper supply by the Byzantines. The Catalans would certainly complain that the Byzantines held back pay and supplies but they are primarily accused of threats, torture and murder against anyone Greek who refused their demands. Numerous rapes are mentioned while no such complaints were made against the Alans. Aside from their notions of Mongol discipline Alans had a strict code of conduct, the Iron Agdau, that regarded violence against women as disgraceful.65 The Catalans and the Alans then went into winter quarters near Kyzikos in order to guard the Artaki Peninsula. In the spring Roger went to Constantinople to ask for more pay for his men and to make excuses for their abuse of the citizens. Significantly he also asked to receive equipment for the Alans “who were courageous in war, because he seemed no longer to have confidence in his own men.” So says Pachymeres, though Muntaner makes no mention of this.66 Roger may have been misleading the Byzantines, but as a German-Italian he may indeed have had trouble controling his Catalan-Aragonese army. When he left the capital he received the horses intended for the Alans as well as supplies and pay for the army. Once again there is the strong suggestion that the imperial 63 64 65

66

Laiou, Constantinople, p. 134; Muntaner, chap. CCI. The Greek sources give different figures though Pachymeres is close to Muntaner’s numbers. Pachymeres, 4: 456–57, 11.21. Anatoly Isaenko and Peter Petschauer, “Traditional Civilization in the North Caucasus: Insiders and Outsiders,” Honoring Differences: Cultural Issues in the Treatment of Trauma and Loss, ed. Kathleen Nader et al. (Washington DC, 1999), pp. 150–78. Pachymeres, 4: 456–57, 11.21.



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government could neither adequately supply nor pay its foreign troops.67 This would inevitably lead to plundering by both the Catalans and the Alans. Despite his efforts on their behalf Roger was now confronted with the growing discontent of the Alans over their pay. Bartusis in his study of the late Byzantine military carefully worked out the amounts: 3 hyperpyron per month for the Alans versus 34 for a Catalan horse soldier and 8.5 for a foot soldier.68 Thus they were being paid barely one-third the pay of a Catalan infantryman and less than one-tenth the pay of a cavalryman, and most of the Alans were horsemen. As touchy about honor as the Almugavars, the Alans were highly offended even though, as Pachymeres points out, at least some of the Alans had also received horses “according to the contracts.”69 Meanwhile Andronikos was reduced to sending his sister, Roger’s mother-inlaw, to prod the commander into action. As she arrived the entire force was gathered to receive their pay and the situation with the Alans was primed to explode. Angered now that they could see how little they were being paid, the Alans were becoming increasingly hostile to their Catalan comrades. Several Alans went to a mill to grind their grain allotment and found some Almugavars violently harassing the woman running the mill. The Alans came to her defense and one of them is said to have threatened to treat the Grand Duke Roger the same way they had treated the Grand Domestic Rhaoul.70 The Almugavars interpreted this as a death threat and took direct action to prevent it, at Roger’s order, according to Pachymeres. Muntaner is mute on the incident which would ultimately result in the death of many Catalans, including their commander.71 That night, 9 April 1304, as the Alans slept, a large number of Almugavars attacked the Alans in their shelters, climbing atop the roofs to “savagely strike at the Alans with javelins,” while others waited at the doors to catch their enemies as they sought to rush out. Instead the Alans grabbed their bows and attempted to defend themselves. Pachymeres says that losses mounted until the son of Girgon was killed by an Almugavar javelin. Someone, perhaps Roger, coming to his senses if he had indeed ordered the attack, finally separated the two sides but the fighting broke out anew in the morning. This time even the grand duke could not stop it. Some three hundred of the Alans were killed and an unknown number of Almugavars. Girgon was apparently absent, which may explain why the fighting took place since the Alans may have been leaderless and under 67

68 69 70

71

Moncada, Catalan Chronicle, p. 39, severally criticizes Andronikos for his liberal promises of pay although “his national treasury and the commerce of the empire were so depleted that he could not make payment.” Bartusis, Byzantine Army, p. 153. The hyperpyron was a gold coin worth slightly less than the old solidus or nomisma. Pachymeres, 4: 456–57, 11.21. Note that this defense of the woman at the mill is again consistent with traditional ideas of honor found among the Ossetians. Not coming to her defense could have involved disgrace not only for the witnesses who ignored it but for their clan. Isaenko and Petchauer, “Traditional Civilization,” pp. 170–72. Pachymeres, 4: 464–65, 11.21. Gregoras says nothing about the incident either.

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strength. When Girgon rode into camp a few days later he was furious at the deaths of his son and his men. Alanic law would compel him to take blood revenge. Roger was sensible to how dangerous this could be and spent much time and trouble sending gifts to Girgon hoping he would accept compensation. Pachymeres adds ominously that Girgon “remained resentful therafter, until he could receive satisfaction.”72 The next month the army moved south to Achyraous (Belikesir). Pachymeres’ figures are 6,000 “Italians,” that is the Catalans and other Latins, along with1,000 Alans, and uncertain numbers of Byzantine troops. Roger was now in command of the entire army including the Alans and Byzantines, setting the salaries, equipping the men, and pillaging if he wished. The campaign turned into “a dazzling blitzkrieg” as Bartusis puts it: right through the middle of Anatolia from Kyzikos to Little Armenia in less than five months.73 Philadelphia was saved from the besieging Turks and Ephesus liberated. When the Catalans returned to Magnesia, however, the people there refused to co-operate and Roger laid siege to it. He was becoming too dangerously independent for the imperial government to tolerate any longer. Now the emperor was overcome by events as the foreign troops, both ‘Italian’ and Alan, were becoming quite hostile. The Alans, still angry at the slaughter of their comrades, and certainly unhappy with the direction of the campaign, were reduced by five hundred men who deserted to live almost as vagabonds hovering around the city of Pegai. Andronikos sent them gifts of money, pleading that they return to the colors, but the disgusted Alans preferred death to serving with the Catalans again. Instead they gave one more display of their superb potential as fighting men. When attacked by 900 Turkish raiders a mere 200 Alans from the group drove them off with severe losses, suffering almost no damage in return.74 The seventeenth-century Catalan historian Moncada claims that the people of Magnesia were influenced to rebel against Roger de Flor by the bitterness the Alans still held against him. With the help of the remaining Alans the citizens of Magnesia revolted and closed the gates to the Catalans outside. Moncada adds that some Alans with the Catalans remained loyal and took part in the ensuing siege that Roger directed against those he now regarded as rebels. Moncada, while he may have had access to sources no longer extant, is the only source to mention this. It certainly fits in with the tenor of the campaign, and whatever unity the Alans had had was now thoroughly destroyed. Nevertheless the people of Magnesia held out against the Catalans until Andronikos managed to recall the Catalan Company to Thrace, allegedly to help his son Michael IX against a revolt in Bulgaria threatening the frontier. Michael had rebuilt the army for this expedition, presumably including the Alans. Once the Catalans were in Europe, however, the emperor said that the danger was past and they were no longer 72 73 74

Pachymeres, 4: 464–65, 11.21. Bartusis, Byzantine Army, p. 79, for the blitzkrieg phrase and a short summary of the campaign. Pachymeres, 4: 496–97, 11.31.



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needed in the north where Michael’s army was preparing to winter at Adrianople. But Pachymeres tells us that Michael himself had told his father that his army, particularly the Alans and the troops from the devastated Anatolian provinces, would revolt if the Catalans came anywhere near them. Roger then led the Company to Gallipoli where it wintered in 1304–05. In the spring the Catalans refused the emperor’s commands until their back pay was sent. At this point Roger de Flor did something inexplicable: against the advice of everyone, including his wife, his mother-in-law, and all of his officers, Roger decided to visit the young Emperor Michael at his headquarters in Adrianople. With Michael were all of Girgon’s Alans, still angry at the Catalans, as was most of the imperial army. Girgon wanted personal revenge against Roger de Flor for the death of his son. It is not surprising then that the Alans would play the major role in Roger’s murder, an event that would spell the utter ruin of imperial military policy and the final destruction of the Alan contingent. We have three separate accounts of the deed: by Muntaner, Pachymeres and Gregoras.75 The accounts of Muntaner and Pachymeres, one a Catalan commander and the other a high-ranking Byzantine scholar, are both highly colored by their obvious sympathies. Gregoras’ version is the briefest, the clearest, and the least reliable: Roger went to visit the emperor with just a two-hundred man escort to demand a year’s pay and, if that was refused, to bully Michael with threats. This was a mistake and Michael became so enraged that “he had him cut down in front of the palace by several soldiers.”76 Some of the Catalans with him were also killed but most escaped to warn their countrymen at Gallipoli. This account is seriously contradicted by the two contemporary accounts. Muntaner and Pachymeres provide no convincing reason for Roger’s visit to Adrianople. Muntaner, an eyewitness, says that despite objections from his Byzantine wife, his mother-in-law, and a council of leading Catalans, Roger went anyway because of his love and loyalty for Michael. As Angeliki Laiou puts it, “there are not many other instances where the chivalric part of [Roger’s] character came to the surface.”77 It is unlikely that Roger appreciated the depths of hatred Girgon and the Alans held for him. Muntaner says that when Roger appeared at Adrianople he was honored by Michael and met with him often in the palace for six days. Michael then summoned Girgon to Adrianople along with Melek, chief of the Turcopoles, Christianized Turks serving the emperor.78 75 76 77 78

Muntaner, pp. 426–28; Pachymeres, 4: 574–75, 12.24; Gregoras, p. 179, chap. VII.3. See also Alemany, Sources, pp. 216–18. Gregoras, p. 179, 7.3. Laiou, Constantinople and the Latins, p. 146. Bartusis, Byzantine Army, pp. 61–2, on the Tourkopouloi, generally meaning Christianized Turks, or originally sons of Turkish fathers and Christian mothers. Bartusis thinks these specific Turcopoles were members of the military entourage of Izz al-Din Kayka’us II, a Seljuk sultan who had sought refuge from the Mongols within the empire in 1260/61. Since he left by 1264 many of these Turcopoles must be the sons of the original force. One would have expected them to be better integrated into the Byzantine military structure than appears to be the case.

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Together these forces amounted to 9,000 horsemen, more than enough to take on Roger’s escort of 300 horse and 1,000 foot. This is Muntaner’s account and it serves to bolster his contention that there was a plot to assassinate his commander on Michael’s behalf. Pachymeres, on the other hand, presents the incident as if it were simply the Alans’ thirst for vengeance which Michael could not control that caused Roger’s death. In his story Georgous, as he always calls Girgon, and his Alans gathered outside the palace yelling that they would not let the criminal be released. When Roger finally came out of the emperor’s apartment, completely unaware of what was going on, the Alans attacked him. Only now realizing what was happening, Roger fled to the empress who was present with him, but was struck down. Georgous immediately leaped upon him to deliver the mortal blow. Here Pachymeres puts the blame on the Alans, freeing Michael of any taint of treachery or murder. Michael is thus presented by Pachymeres as completely surprised by these actions. While some of his men excused themselves by claiming this was the only way to handle Roger’s threat, the Alans and some others mounted their horses and rushed out to attack any of the Latins they could find. Michael waited until he was sure the empress was safe and unhurt. Reassured, he attempted but failed to bring the troops back under control lest they fall into a trap in their headlong pursuit. Instead, the soldiers rushed about killing any “Italians” they could find. This does not seem likely and most modern scholars accept the fact that Michael at least knowingly allowed Girgon to take his revenge, if he did not engineer the whole slaughter. All three accounts agree that the Alans and others then turned on Roger’s unsuspecting escort and either slaughtered or imprisoned them. Gregoras claims many escaped to warn their companions at Gallipoli; Pachymeres that they were easily subdued and imprisoned; Muntaner, that all were killed except for three who entered a tower and held out before being killed. The Byzantines had seen another outburst of Alanic fury related to their notion of vengeance in 1185 when imperial forces, including an Alan contingent, retook the city of Thessoloniki from Sicilian Normans. Aware that the Normans had killed many Alan members of the garrison previously, the Alans unleashed a violence that surprised the Byzantine historian Nicetas Choniates: For the latter [the Alan troops], taking revenge for the harm they had suffered when Thessalonica was captured, had no consideration for any of the enemies, but filled the streets and the vestibules of the temples with their corpses. They asked the Sicels [Sicilian Normans] they apprehended where their brother was, that is, an Alan fellowcountryman whom they had killed on conquering the city, and as they spoke they thrust in their swords. They even cut the throats of those who sought refuge in the churches, asking them where the priest was, that is, the clergy that those people had killed in spite of having entered holy places.79

79

Translation of Nicetas Choniates, Hist. 12 (ed. Bekker Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae XXIII, p. 471 = Patrologia Graeca 139, c. 721, by Alemany, Sources, p. 235. In footnote 123,



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Michael IX or his advisors surely knew of this Alanic propensity for revenge when he sent for Girgon to come to Adrianople. Muntaner tells us that Michael committed an even worse crime than the murder by sending the Turcopoles with some of the Alans to attack the Catalans under his command at Gallipoli while they were completely unaware of anything being wrong. Gregoras claims that “the soldiers” believed that this action, the murder and the attack, would dishearten the Catalans and bring them back into obedience. If that were indeed Michael’s plan it was badly mistaken. Instead the Catalans secured themselves in Gallipoli after massacring the inhabitants and fought off all assaults.80 This began the “Catalan Vengeance” of legend – such a severe harrowing of Thrace that the memory would last for centuries. Andronikos attempted to meet the Catalan threat by sending a Genoese fleet against them, which managed to capture Berenguer d’Entença, a major leader of the Catalans, on 31 May 1305. Once again there was a dispute over pay, this time with the Genoese, most of whom departed for Trebizond with their Catalan prisoners.81 The Alans stayed with Emperor Michael’s army in Thrace, which now moved against the Catalans near the town of Apros. All accounts agree that this was a big army, in fact the last coherent Byzantine force available. The Catalans advanced to camp nearby and decided on an open battle sometime in July 1305. Pachymeres’ account is once again the most detailed.82 Michael placed both the Alans and the Turcopoles under the command of the Bulgarian officer Vojsil in the first line. They were backed by a line of Macedonian troops and behind these was a line composed of soldiers who had abandoned Anatolia when the Byzantine army had collapsed there the year before. A rear guard was composed of Vlachs and volunteers of some sort. A final unit intended perhaps as a special reserve of elite troops was commanded personally by the Emperor Michael. Thus Pachymeres says the Byzantines advanced in five large units while the Catalans advanced in four, one composed of Turkish troops they had enticed from Anatolia with the promise of plunder. The Alans and the Turcopoles began the battle with a rapid charge towards the enemy and the Alans, at least in the judgement of most who have written on the battle, simply turned aside and moved off the field. Pachymeres explic-

80 81 82

Alemany notes that: “The sarcastic questions of the Alans to their victims, far from being an anecdote, might well reflect aspects of the ritual of blood revenge, of a religious nature and part of the Ossetic criminal law,” referring to a quote from Ju. Kovalewsky, Coutume contemporaine et loi ancienne. Droit coutumier ossétien éclair par l’histoire comparée (Paris, 1893, repr. Amesterdam 1970): “after having taken his blood revenge, the Osset, according to Klaproth, runs to the grave of his kinsman, in order to announce aloud, ‘I killed your murderer,’ he says, addressing the deceased” [translated from the French by Jessee]. Marco Polo tells of a similar case of Alanic vengeance during the Mongol conquest of Sung China when an Alan garrison was treacherously slaughtered by the population of a conquered city. The Mongol army including Alans returned and put the entire population to the sword. Marco Polo, chap. 74. Pachymeres, 4: 464–65, 11.21. Muntaner is silent on the massacre. Pachymeres, 4: 590–91, chap. 12.29, Muntaner CCXVIII, pp. 432–33. Pachymeres, 4: 598–99, chap. 12.32.

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itly states that they did this because they were disaffected with the lack of pay and that the Alans broke first.83 Given how the Alans still must have felt about the Catalans this is not entirely convincing and there are other details from Pachymeres’ story that complicate the issue. Both the Alans and the Turcopoles were mounted archers thoroughly familiar with the steppe tactic of the “feigned retreat” designed to draw the enemy out in pursuit and then to turn and hit them when they were disorganized and exhausted.84 Jep Pascot thus offers a different reconstruction, one that seems quite possible, indeed even likely: he believes the Alans’ movement to the flank reflected an attempt at such a feigned retreat, rather than a decision not to fight.85 Pachymeres describes the battle: “The Alans on one side and the Turcopoles on the other darted out and attacked the Catalan vanguard. And the Catalans immediately became like a tower and ceded nothing to anyone.”86 This observation could be dismissed as simply some of the poetic language Pachymeres delighted in using yet it is explicit, an odd detail that could fit in with Pascot’s theory. The Catalans did not fall for the ruse but remained firm. Pachymeres again: “Those who had darted out in front [the Alans and Turcopoles] made an attack without being firmly resolved afterwards, but immediately swerved aside and gave the impression of fleeing. According to appearances and by what was seen they seemed to refuse combat.”87 The historian then gives several reasons why the Alans might have been unwilling to press the attack, but his wording suggests that Byzantine observers could not tell what was actually going on. It sounds in fact like a feigned retreat that did not work, just as Pascot thought: the Catalans did not break ranks and Byzantine supports did not back up the Alans and Turcopoles. Instead the Byzantines of the following lines saw the Alans and Turcopoles swerve aside and assumed they were retreating so that the sight “inspired fear in those coming behind and they were without ardor for the battle.”88 This seems to mean that they ran away. At any rate when the emperor saw what was happening he rushed into combat with his personal troops to try to stem the retreat. It was of no avail and the Byzantines were once again routed by an inferior force. Pachymeres then adds one other observation that indicates that the Catalans were indeed wary of a false retreat. “The enemy imagined that it had happened 83 84

85 86 87 88

Pachymeres, 4: 600–1, chap. 12.32. For a discussion of the “feigned retreat” as an Alan tactic, see Bachrach, History of the Alans, pp. 91–2. It had long been a feature of steppe warfare and the Alans were thoroughly familiar with it. See also Peter B. Gordon, “War and Warfare in the Pre-Cinggisid Western Steppes of Eurasia,” in Warfare in Inner Asian History 500–1800, ed. Nicoli Di Cosmo (Boston, 2002), pp. 105–72, especially p. 135 on the Byzantines calling the feigned retreat and counterattack specifically the “Alan drill.” Jep Pascot, Les almugavares, p. 98, believes the Alans tried the old Parthian trick of a feigned retreat but it failed because the Catalan line stood firm. Pachymeres, 4: 600–1, 12.32. Ibid. Ibid.



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as a trick and that other troops in advancing might be taken by ambush and they were dissuaded from making a pursuit.”89 This was all that saved the Byzantines from total disaster. As for the Alans, it is entirely possible that it happened exactly as Pachymeres allows the reader to think. The Alans were unhappy about pay among other things and simply withdrew from the battle, and the Byzantines retreated when they saw this. Yet he also provides enough reason for another interpretation. The Alans and Turcopoles attempt a feigned retreat, the Catalans refuse to be lured into pursuit, and the Alans move aside to regroup. They would have nowhere else to go. They looked back and saw their Byzantine allies retreating. Recalling that their countrymen had been sacrificed at Bapheus to cover a similar retreat, the Alans may very well have decided that this time they should look out for themselves. In any event they played no further role in the battle except that their very presence caused the Catalans to put off their pursuit. The Catalans were not by nature cautious and if they feared a feigned retreat it must have remained a real possibility. If, as we believe, a swift counter-attack had been the Alans’ original intention it misfired due to Catalan experience with the Alans’ tactics and Byzantine panic. After this last fiasco the Alans renounced all allegiance to the two emperors once and for all while the Turcopoles moved off on their own to plunder the local population. According to Pachymeres, the Alans at the instigation of Koutzimpaxis, a Tatar commander serving the Byzantines, decided to return to Toqtai and serve the Tatars once again.90 Koutzimpaxis, secretly no longer loyal to the emperors, apparently sided completely with the Alans and married the sister of their chief Kyrsites. Kyrsites appears nowhere else but is presumably a subordinate of Girgon. Now the Alans gained the summit of Mount Néas and drew up their wagons into a laager.91 Securing their families within its protection they too launched themselves on to the Thracian countryside. This was almost certainly owing to necessity for supplies rather than greed since Pachymeres specifically notes that they refrained from murder. The emperor refused to believe that Koutzimpaxis was implicated in any of this but in any case the treasury was empty, the army shattered. This completely disabled any effective response to the defections, the rampaging Catalans, and the threatening Genoese. What were the Alans attempting to do? Pachymeres is unclear, although at this point he has them sending emissaries to Tsar Svetoslav of the Bulgarians saying that they would join him. They were still a military force to be reckoned with as foe or ally. This makes more sense than any plan to join Toqtai, whose vengeance they had fled in the first place. Their whole adventure within the empire had started with their intense desire to get away from the Tatars and Toqtai in particular. Svetoslav wanted their help because he was steadily eating away at Byzantine territory. The Alans’ emissaries asked him to reinforce them 89 90 91

Ibid., 4: 602–3, 12.32. Pachymeres, 4: 626–27, 13.4. Ibid. Thracian Néas cannot be identified (ibid., note 35).

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with Bulgarian forces as they approached the border. After receiving one thousand Bulgarian auxiliaries the Alans joined Svetoslav with their women and children.92 This greatly troubled the Turcopoles still serving with the Catalans because the Alans had some of their own women and children with them, probably with the status of hostages.93 They told the Catalans, who probably needed no persuading, that the Alans had immense amounts of booty. Mutaner says the motivation was that he, Ferran Ximens and Rocafort, the three leaders now of the Catalans, believed that all their successes were as nothing “if we did not go and fight the Alans who had killed the Caesar [Roger de Flor].” Soon the Alans were being pursued by nearly the entire Catalan host and most of the Turcopole force.94 Catching the Alans, the Catalans attacked. After an intense and bloody fight the Alans ran out of arrows and turned to flight. This time there is no doubt that this was not a feigned retreat. Girgon was killed and his standards cut down, the Alan fighting men were slaughtered, the laager overrun, and the women and children captured. Muntaner tells one last story of the Alans as a tribute to their bravery: But I must recount to you what happened to one of their knights [cavall] who was bringing away his wife. He rode a good horse, and his wife another, and three horsemen of ours went after them. What shall I tell you about it? The lady’s horse was getting tired and the knight was hitting him with the flat of his sword, but in the end our horsemen overtook the knight. And when he saw they were overtaking him and that he would lose the lady [dona], he pushed on a little ahead, and the lady gave a great cry and he returned towards her and embraced and kissed her. And when he had done this, he struck her on the neck with his sword so that her head was cut off at one blow. And when he had done this, he turned towards our horsemen, who were already seizing the lady’s horse, and gave a cut with his sword to one of them … which cut off his left arm at one stoke and he fell dead to the ground. And the other two, seeing this, rushed upon him, and he upon them … I must tell you that he would not leave the lady’s side, so that they cut him all to pieces. See how valiant the knight was; he had killed G. de Bellver and badly wounded the others.   And so you can see how he died, like a good knight (com a bon cavaller), and that he had done what he did to his own great sorrow. And so the greater part of the Alans died for the same reason … not three hundred men of arms (homens darmes) escaped, for all were killed. And our men took the women and children and all they had and the cattle and the riding beasts.95

This is the last word that has survived about the fate of the Alans on Girgon’s expedition to Byzantium. The words that Muntaner uses for the Alan and his wife are redolent of Iberian notions of nobility and chivalry: he is a bon cavall,

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Pachymeres, 4: 600–1, 13.18. Pachymeres, 4: 662–63, 13.19. Pachymeres, 4: 662–63, 13.18, where the author’s meaning is not clear (ibid., note 45). Muntaner, p. 446 of the Goodenough trans. Catalan text in Crónica Catalana de Ramon Muntaner, with Castilian translation by Antonio de Bofarull (Barcelona, 1860), p. 422.



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a fine knight, she a dona, a lady. Despite his and the other Catalans’ desire to see the Alans destroyed, Muntaner obviously respected them, an important eyewitness assessment from one who had fought with them and against them. What else can be said of the military effectiveness of the Alan expedition in Byzantium? Beyond putting financial pressure on the fragile state and ruining the livelihood of numerous Byzantine farmers and townsmen, if we are to believe the more lurid tales of Gregoras and Pachymeres, the Alans accomplished little. They are sometimes seen, along with the Catalans, as the main reasons for the Byzantine military disasters of this decade leading to the loss of Anatolia and Greece. Yet if we set this prejudice aside and reexamine our primary sources we can see that the Alans were superb troops if correctly handled. Both our eyewitnesses, Muntaner and Pachymeres, attest to their bravery, gallantry and skill as “the best cavalry in the East.”96 They were a corps of veterans trained up to the standards of the Mongol army, a tümen with the peculiar advantage of being Orthodox Christians of a nationality with long ties to the Byzantine world. At the debacle of Bapheus only the intervention of the Alan cavalry prevented the destruction of the entire Byzantine force. When the army of Michael refused combat and melted away before the Turks at Magnesia the steadiness of the Alans kept the emperor in the field. Even at Apros, generally considered an act of treachery by the Alans, it is at least possible to see their actions as an attempt at a feigned flight and ambush, the classic “Alan drill,” that failed because the Byzantine troops failed to support it. Yet something clearly had gone wrong with the Byzantine use of the Alans whose failures were as conspicuous as their successes. With one major exception Pachymeres lays the blame squarely on the Byzantines themselves. He specifically claims that the Alans wanted to be kept together “so that they could support each other in combat.” This request was denied as the tümen was broken up into three units. When the first and largest of these ran amok, causing great damage to the Byzantines, Pachymeres ascribes it to their undisciplined nature as barbarians, which seems odd for men accustomed to the rigors of Mongol command. He adds, however, the more specific but cryptic comment that the Alans would behave well only under the eyes of an emperor because “they despised the other chiefs.”97 Here it seems that the chiefs are Byzantine officers but in any case, at least for Pachymeres, there was a problem in command though its exact nature is unclear. The Alans’ trust in Byzantine leadership was further undermined by the defeat at Bapheus where battle was offered despite heavy odds against a tiny Byzantine-Alan force of two thousand men. If Pachymeres’ view of the battle reflects anything like reality then the Alans must have felt betrayed by their Byzantine allies who fled, leaving the Alans to fight off the advancing Turks at

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great cost. The debacle at Magnesia is said in the Historia to be the fault of the Byzantine chiefs rather than the Alans who remained loyal to their contracts – as long as they were paid. Even when the pay ran out and they became embroiled in a melee with Byzantine troops they returned to order as soon as the Byzantine commander was killed. Pachymeres presents the incident as caused by much by Byzantine arrogance as Alan intransigence. None of our primary sources speak of problems supplying the Alans but they certainly speak of difficulties with pay. It is clear from Pachymeres that equipping them with arms and horses at the outset was a major problem for the Byzantine state. Pachymeres even claims that this caused such resentment among the Greek soldiers that it interfered with their ability to effectively support the Alans. Later at Magnesia Michael IX ran out of money and had to write to his father for emergency funds to pay his Alans to extend their service. Andronikos could only scrape together the pay for a mere three months. Without a secure stream of cash for the soldiers, which the Byzantines could not guarantee either for the Alans or for the Catalans, the only recourse was requisitioning supplies from the populace. At least for the Alans of the first group sent to Anatolia with the women and children, this “requisitioning” may have been so forceful as to seem uncontrolled plundering by the long-suffering Anatolians. Pay would again be a problem when the Alans found out they were being paid much less than the Catalans, and the only way even the Catalans could be paid at this higher rate was with devalued coinage. The poverty of the Byzantine state clearly was a major source of the trouble. All of these problems were compounded to breaking point when the emperors hired the Catalan Company and quartered them together with the Alans, two sets of bull-proud, touchy and increasingly exasperated soldiery. The Catalan Company, unlike the Alans, was allowed to operate as a unified and independent command under Roger de Flor. This produced splendid victories but ultimately led to the breakdown of relations within the army. Having realized how poorly paid they were compared with the Catalans, Alan resentment led to what is described as a surprise attack in the night against them by the Catalans. The resulting casualties included Girgon’s son which would lead to the Alans abandoning the Catalans, as did the native Anatolian troops, to fight in the ranks of Michael’s new army in Europe. It seems likely that Michael took advantage of Girgon’s blood feud with Roger de Flor to engineer his murder, although both Pachymeres and Gregoras shield the emperor from blame. Yet if he did not order Roger’s murder then he failed either to understand the most basic motivation of his Alanic confederates or understood perfectly well and quietly let events unroll. Whatever Michael’s role the murder led to open war between the Catalans and the empire, the defeat of yet one more Byzantine army and first the desertion and then the destruction of the remaining Alans. Finally, it is difficult to exonerate Michael’s personal leadership in the overall disaster. He was, after all, the commander-in-chief at Magnesia and yet passively allowed his officers to call off the attack when his army held every advantage. This decision led to the immediate desertion of most of his troops, the depar-



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ture of the Alans when their contracts expired, and the humiliating flight from Magnesia of Michael himself. It broke the heart of the local Greeks, citizens and soldiers, and allowed an invigorated Turkish offense to lay the foundation of the Ottoman coalition that would one day destroy the last remnant of the Roman Empire. We can only guess at what the Alans might have accomplished if they had been handled more intelligently.

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

Introduction Over the centuries, a great deal of poetry has been devoted to warfare and its practitioners. While the majority has tended to celebrate the heroism of men involved in conflict, a not insignificant part has condemned the carnage and futility, a condemnation that reached its height during the First World War in the works of such writers as Wilfred Owens, Siegfried Sassoon, and Robert Service.1 During the Middle Ages, martial poetry followed both strains. Much of it emphasized the glory of combat, serving as the supreme tool for recalling honor and assigning shame earned on the battlefield.2 This was true of the most widely-recited works of the period, the great epics and chanson de geste, including Beowulf, the Song of Roland, the Tales of King Arthur, and the Poema del mio Cid, to name only the most prominent. All centered on human conflict and extolled the heroism of their protagonists. Poets, like the great troubadour, Bertran de Born (c. 1140–c. 1215), could look on war as a spectacle complete with “proud pavilions high … squadrons of armored chivalry … trumpets and tabors, ensigns and pennants.” To Born’s mind, participants were expected to spill blood and engage in butchery in their pursuit of “death or victory.”3 1

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For a sampling of this poetry, see: Penguin Book of First World War Poetry, ed. Jon Silkin (New York, 1956) and Robert W. Service, Rhymes of a Red Cross Man (New York, 1916). For an analysis of European anti-war poetry in the twentieth century, see Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (New York, 2000). See also: Stefan Goebel, The Great War and Medieval Memory: War, Remembrance, and Medievalism in Britain and Germany, 1914–1940 (Cambridge, 2007); The Poetry of War 1939–1945, ed. Ian Hamilton (London, 1965); J. Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning: The Great War in European Cultural History (Cambridge, 1995). Matthew Strickland, War and Chivalry: The Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066–1217 (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 99–124; The Book of Chivalry of Geoffroi de Charny: Text, Context, and Translation, trans. Richard W. Kaeuper and Elspeth Kennedy (Philadelphia, 1996), pp. 129–33. Bertran de Born, “The Joys of War,” in Medieval Culture and Society, ed. David Herlihy (New

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By contrast, at least a few medieval poets, including the greatest English author of the period, Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1340–1400), appear to have “disengaged” from the literary portrayal of war as a theater of chivalric heroism. After a brief military service that led to a short term of imprisonment by the French, this court-poet became in the words of one modern scholar a “discrete pacifist.”4 In a similar vein, a disregard for the real or imagined glories of war led others to posit the establishment of peace rather than the conduct of war as the proper goal for European rulers. In the anonymous French romance, Cleriadus et Meliadice, the hero, after winning the English crown, uses his victory to establish a “reign of peace, justice, and prosperity.” At roughly the same time, the much-traveled versifier, Philippe de Mézières (c. 1327–1405), fashioned a literary epistle to the English king, Richard II (r. 1377–1399),5 lamenting the vast destruction that conflict between England and France had brought about and pleading for it to end.6 While medieval poetry served both to glorify and question the conduct of war, not infrequently it had another role as well: since some medieval authors chose to record history in verse, poetry might replace prose as the medium for chronicling a specific battle or conflict. Such was the case with two panegyrical poems dealing with a major encounter of the Hundred Years War – the battle of Nájera. Fought in northeastern Spain on Saturday, 3 April 1367, in respect to the size of the armies involved and the illustrious nature of the participants on both sides, Nájera ranks alongside the greatest engagements of the “calamitous fourteenth century”;7 battles such as Courtrai (1302), Bannockburn (1314), Crécy (1346), Poitiers (1356), Roosebeke (1382), and Nicopolis (1396).8 On the

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York, 1968), pp. 233–34; idem, “Domna, puois de me no. us chal,” in Lyrics of the Troubadours and Trouveres: An Anthology and a History, ed. and trans. Frederick Goldin (Garden City, N.Y., 1973), p. 235 (no. 43). Simon Meecham-Jones, “The Invisible Siege: The Depiction of Warfare in the Poetry of Chaucer,” in Writing War: Medieval Literary Responses to Warfare, ed. Corinne J. Saunders, Françoise Hazel Marie Le Saux, and Neil Thomas (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 148–54; John M. Bowers, “Chaucer after Retters: The Wartime Origins of English Literature,” in Inscribing the Hundred Years’ War in French and English Culture, ed. Denise N. Baker (Albany, N.Y., 2000), pp. 94–5. Throughout this article, the regnal dates of monarchs are distinguished by an “r”. Michelle Szkilnik, “A Pacificist Utopia: Cleriadus et Meliadice,” in Inscribing, 232; Philippe de Mézières, Letter to Richard II: A Plea Made in 1395 for Peace between England and France, ed. and trans. G. W. Coopland (Liverpool, 1975), pp. 6–8. This colorful characterization of the fourteenth century, now widely employed in referring to the period, comes from the title of the modern era’s best-selling work on the Middle Ages, Barbara W. Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous Fourteenth Century (New York, 1978). For modern accounts of the battle, see Villalon’s articles: “Seeking Castles in Spain: Sir Hugh Calveley and the Free Companies’ Intervention in Iberian Warfare (1366–1369),” in Crusaders, Condotierri, and Cannon: Medieval Warfare in Societies around the Mediterranean, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2003), pp. 305–32; and “The Battle of Najera and the Hundred Years War in Spain,” in The Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus, ed. L. J.



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other hand, among these leading encounters, it is the least well-known and least widely-studied – except by Spanish historians. The Nájera Poems Two lengthy fourteenth-century poems depict the battle of Nájera from an English perspective, neither of which is written in that language.9 The more important of the two, described by several scholars as “a metrical chronicle,” is in Old French,10 composed by an individual who is rescued from anonymity

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Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2005). The author has also written a brief entry on the battle for the Oxford Encyclopedia of Medieval Warfare and Military Technology, ed. Clifford J. Rogers, 3 vols. (Oxford, 2010), 3: 42–3. There is also a late fourteenth-century biographical poem devoted to Bertrand du Guesclin (a name also rendered in contemporary chronicles as Clacquin, Claquin, Claquí, Clakyn), one of the most famous and almost certainly the most talented French commander of the Hundred Years War. Du Guesclin’s exploits not only won him burial in the royal crypt at SaintDenis and a prominent place in all the major chronicles of the period, they have generated a literature specifically devoted to his deeds, the earliest piece of which was the poem in question, written by a Picard troubador known only as Cuvelier (or, as it appears in several surviving manuscripts, Cunelier). Several prose chronicles appear to have subsequently grown out of the poem. The poem first appeared in print in 1839 as Chronique de Bertrand du Guesclin par Cuvelier, 2 vols. (Paris, 1839). A modern edition of the work was produced in the 1990s. See La Chanson de Bertrand du Guesclin de Cuvelier, ed. Jean-Claude Faucon (Toulouse, 1990–1993). For more information concerning the chronicle tradition surrounding du Guesclin, see the “Notice sur les mémoires de Du Guesclin,” in Collection complete des mémoires relatifs à l’histoire de France (Paris, 1824), 4: 4–23. For a recent summary of the constable’s career, see Richard Vernier, The Flower of Chivalry: Bertrand du Guesclin and the Hundred Years War (Woodbridge, 2007). See also: Richard Vernier, “The Afterlife of a Hero: Bertrand du Guesclin Imagined,” in The Hundred Years War (Part II): Different Vistas, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2008), pp. 329–41, which summarizes literature dealing with the constable. According to Vernier’s article, despite the fact that Cuvelier’s poem is the earliest account of the great knight’s activities, it leaves much to be desired, both poetically and historically: “This mediocre, infinitely tedious, and often wildly inaccurate narrative is the only contemporary biography of the constable, and thus it has been the primary source for all later attempts at retelling his story.” Nevertheless, despite its faults, the poem and the prose works derived from it have become, faut de mieux, the leading narrative source for biographers. Some indication of the importance of this manuscript lies in the fact that it found its way into print on four separate occasions between 1842 and 1875. All but one of the published versions of the work contain an English translation/paraphrase of the French original. See (1) The Black Prince. An Historical Poem, written in French, by Chandos Herald, with translation and notes by the Rev. Henry Octavius Coxe, M.A., Sub-Librarian of the Bodleian (London: 1842); (2) The Life and Feats of Arms of Edward the Black Prince by Chandos Herald, a metrical chronicle with an English Translation and Notes by Francisque Michel (London, 1883; repr. Nabu Public Domain Reprints, n.d.); (3) Life of the Black Prince by the Herald of Sir John Chandos, ed. Mildred K. Pope and Eleanor C. Lodge (Oxford, 1910); (4) Chandos Herald, La Vie du Prince Noir, ed. Diana B. Tyson (Tübingen, 1975). The 1910 version, best-known and most widely utilized by modern scholars, strongly criticizes both of the earlier attempts, saying of its 1883 counterpart that it is “valueless for linguistic purposes, while its historical worth is gravely diminished by the blunders of the translation and the incompleteness and inaccuracies of the notes.” Since the 1883, 1910, and 1975 editions will all be cited in this article, they

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by the last line of his work, translated by one editor as “This hath the Herald of Chandos related, who gladly made record.”11 On the basis of that brief selfdescription, historians have dubbed the otherwise unnamed author Chandos Herald. The herald’s poem, approximately four thousand lines in length, survives in two manuscript copies, both of which appear to date from the latter half of the fourteenth century. First to be rediscovered in the early nineteenth century is the copy in possession of Worcester College, Oxford,12 described in the scholarly literature as far back as 1824 and printed for the first time in 1842.13 A second copy of the poem, described by the Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts in 1874, has been housed since 1921 in the University of London Library.14 Although the London manuscript appears to be somewhat earlier and is definitely more accurate in its reproduction of the lost original,15 it failed to attract scholarly attention until 1953, by which time the Oxford version had found its way into print three times. Although neither manuscript bears a title, since the poem is an unabashed paean of praise to the career of the Black Prince, it has been dubbed since its discovery “La Vie du Prince Noir.” In speaking of its literary merits, none of its editors advance any claims for it being great poetry; the most recent of the editors, Diana Tyson, says in no uncertain terms “it cannot be denied that the style of writing is poor.”16 The poem’s

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will be distinguished in the notes by the names of their editors: Michel, Pope and Lodge, and Tyson. For an excellent summary of the current status of scholarship concerning the herald, see Tyson’s introduction to her 1975 edition, pp. 1–46. As of the writing of this article (2012), the English prose translation/paraphrase of the 1910 version without the original French text or the editors’ extensive notes is available on the internet at http://www.elfinspell.com/ChandosTitle; and www.yorku.ca/inpar/chandos_pope.pdf. In addition, a somewhat freer English translation of the work can be found in Richard Barber, The Life and Campaigns of the Black Prince (London, 1979). The actual words of the poem read as follows: Que retraist li heraud Chaundos, Qui voluntiers recordoit motz. See: Michel, p. 286. The Oxford manuscript, designated Worcester MS 1, is an octavo volume on vellum containing sixty-one leaves with fifty-two lines to the page with its capital letters illuminated and chapter titles rubricated. See: The Genealogist: A Quarterly Magazine of Genealogical, Antiquarian, Topographical and Heraldic Research, ed. Walford D. Selby, new series (London, 1884), I: 33. Michel, Preface, p. v. The London manuscript, designated University of London Library, MS 1, consists of seventy folios, for the most part containing forty lines to the page, encased in a brown leather binding dating from the seventeenth century. It is written in brown ink with rubrics in red. Tyson, Introduction, pp. 3–4. Ibid., pp. 4–10. Analyzing the common features in the London and Oxford texts, Tyson has hypothesized a stemma codicum, explaining the fairly close relationship between the two manuscripts. Both appear to be descended from the same earlier text which is itself a descendant of the herald’s original. The London manuscript, however, is a direct copy of the common text; the Oxford manuscript has been copied from an intervening manuscript. Ibid., p. 36.



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true value lies in the historical sphere. Not only does The Life of the Black Prince supply a nice summary of the subject’s military career. Nearly half of the work focuses upon Edward’s expedition into Spain, to which the herald seems to have been an eyewitness, making it one of the two best surviving sources for the battle of Nájera. Tyson’s claim that the poem is “the source of almost all our information respecting the Spanish campaign of the Black Prince”17 is clearly an overstatement (after all, we also have the account written by the great Castilian chronicler, Pedro López de Ayala, who was without doubt present at the battle). On the other hand, without the herald, our understanding of the event would be greatly reduced. There also exists another fairly lengthy poem,18 written in rather turgid Latin verse19 and apparently composed closer in time to the battle. The author was a man named Walter of Peterborough, a regular cleric and servant to the Black Prince’s younger brother, John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster (1340–1399).20 The poem consisted of 560 verses21 and survives in two incomplete manuscript copies, both of which are housed in the Bodleian Library at Oxford.22 It appeared in print in its entirety but without any English translation in 1859, in a twovolume collection of miscellany edited by Thomas Wright and entitled Political Poems and Songs relating to English History composed during the Period from 17 18

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Ibid., p. 1. Walter of Peterborough, “Prince Edward’s Expedition into Spain and the Battle of Najara,” in Political Poems and Songs relating to English History composed during the Period from the Accession of Edw[ard] III to that of Ric[hard] III, ed. Thomas Wright [hereafter Wright], 2 vols. (London, 1859), 1: 97–122. In 2005, Elibron Classics brought out a facsimile reprint edition of the 1859 original. All footnotes concerning the text of the poem will refer to the page in Wright’s volume. In a recent book dealing with political propaganda in late fourteenth-century English poetry, literary scholar David Carlson characterizes Walter’s poem, which he refers to as “Victoria Belli in Hispania,” rather more generously, stating that “it too has considerable stylistic refinement, the work of a highly trained poet …” See chapter 4, “Walter Peterborough’s Victoria Belli in Hispania (1367) and its official source,” in David L. Carlson, John Gower, Poetry and Propaganda in Fourteenth-Century England (Cambridge, 2012), pp. 68–92, in particular p. 74. Carlson also affords Walter’s tactical descriptions of the campaign and battle of Nájera a good deal more credit for accuracy than we are willing to do. In several instances, he compares them favorably to the Chandos Herald. See especially pp. 78–79 and 80–81. Scholarly biographies of this fascinating figure who played an extensive role in the second half of the fourteenth century include Sydney Armitage-Smith, John of Gaunt, King of Castile and León, Duke of Aquitaine and Lancaster, Earl of Derby, Lincoln and Leicester, Seneschal of England (1904; repr. New York, 1964); and Anthony Goodman, John of Gaunt: The Exercise of Princely Power in Fourteenth-Century Europe (New York, 1992). There is a popular account of his life by Norman F. Cantor, The Last Knight: The Twilight of the Middle Ages and the Birth of the Modern Era (New York, 2004). The colophon at the end of the text says of the work, “habens versus quingentos sexaginta.” Political Poems and Songs relating to English History, 1:122. Bodleian Library, Oxford, MS Digby, no. 166, fol. 97r; and MS. Rawlinson, no. 214, fol. 188r. The Digby manuscript contains the entire text of the poem but not the prologue; by contrast, the Rawlinson manuscript gives only half of the text, but supplies along with it the missing prologue. See Wright’s description of the manuscripts, Wright, 1: xxvi–xxviii and 1: 97.

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the Accession of Edw[ard] III to that of Ric[hard] III. Unlike the herald’s work, Walter’s poem has not been the subject of multiple critical editions. Although in a literary sense, both poems fail to rise above the level of mediocrity, they both provide what purport to be historical treatments of the campaign and battle of Nájera as viewed from an English perspective. The present article will explore these two pro-English accounts, with an eye to judging their reliability as sources and what each contributes to an understanding of one of the fourteenth century’s greatest encounters. Iberian Background From the closing decades of the thirteenth century, two of the principal kingdoms inhabiting the Iberian Peninsula, the Crown of Aragon in the east and Castile-León in the center, assumed an increasingly hostile stance toward one another, due largely to disputes over the location of their common border, a border that stretched roughly north-south for a distance of several hundred miles.23 This hostility was often exacerbated by the presence of a succession of over-mighty royal siblings such as Juan Manuel (1282–1348), Prince Fernando [Ferran] (1329–63), and Enrique de Trastámara (1333–79), whose activities often rendered the “middle lands” between Castile and Aragon a “region of warfare and peril.”24 Starting around the mid-fourteenth century, the increasingly unstable situation erupted into open warfare. In the fall of 1356, seizing upon a relatively minor incident as a casus belli,25 Pedro “the Cruel” of Castile (r. 1350–66/1367– 69)26 declared that war against Aragon was the only way to “protect our honor

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Donald J. Kagay, “The Dynastic Dimension of International Conflict in Fourteenth-Century Iberia,” Mediterranean Studies 17 (2008), 79–80. See also Josep-David Garrido i Valls, La conquesta del sud Valencià i Múrcia per Jaume II (Barcelona, 2002). Robert I. Burns, S.J., “The Significance of the Frontier in the Middle Ages,” in Medieval Frontier Societies, ed. Robert Bartlett and Angus MacKay (1989; repr., Oxford, 1996), p. 322; Donald J. Kagay, “Pere III’s System of Defense in the War of the Two Pedros (1356–1366): The Aragonese Crowns’s Use of Aristocratic, Urban, Clerical, and Foreign Captains,” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History [third series] 7 (2010), 213–21; idem, “Border War as a Handmaiden of National Identity: The Territorial Definition of Late-Medieval Iberia,” Journal of the Georgia Association of Historians 28 (2009), 88–138, see esp. pp. 105–14; Kagay, “Dynastic Dimension,” pp. 84–96. L. J. Andrew Villalon, “‘Cut Off Their Heads or I’ll Cut Off Yours’: Castilian Strategy and Tactics in the War of the Two Pedros and the Supporting Evidence from Murcia,” in Villalon and Kagay, The Hundred Years War (Part II): Different Vistas, pp. 153–82, see esp. pp. 159–61. This controversial monarch, known by rival sobriquets – his supporters refer to him not as “the Cruel” but “the Just” – occupies a niche in Spanish history comparable to that reserved by the English for Richard III. The principal primary source for Pedro’s reign is his chronicle written by Pedro López de Ayala, the most widely-used edition (cited in this article) is Pedro Lopez de Ayala, Crónica del Rey Don Pedro Primero [hereafter Ayala, Pedro I], in Crónicas de los Reyes de Castilla [hereafter CRC] 1, Biblioteca de Autores Españoles [hereafter BAE] 66 (Madrid, 1953), pp. 393–614. For a more recent edition, see: Corónica del rey don Pedro,



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and estate.”27 In turn, Pere III “the Ceremonious” of Aragon (r. 1336–87)28 responded by declaring that the Castilian ruler was no longer his friend – a very circumspect way of saying that they were at war.29 The result of this convoluted announcement of hostilities was a conflict, later dubbed the War of the Two Pedros, that began slowly, but became increasingly brutal over the years and inflamed most of the border region from Zaragosa south to Murcia and Valencia for the next ten years.30 Despite a string of Castilian victories, the often desperate, but always crafty Aragonese sovereign31 was eventually able to put together a coalition of men who, for a variety of reasons, had become deadly enemies of Pedro I.32 Among the allies who fairly quickly joined Pere were his own half-brother, Ferran; Pedro’s half-brother, Enrique, count of Trastámara; and an ever-growing number of Castilian exiles who had fled to escape their king’s wrath. The turning point came in the mid-1360s, when both Charles V of France (r. 1364–80) and Pope Urban V (r.1362–70) threw their military and financial weight into the balance.33 This made it possible to recruit the so-called Free Companies composed of thousands of battle-hardened veterans of the Hundred Years War who had been temporarily thrown out of work by the lull in hostilities that followed the Treaty of Brétigny (1360).

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ed. Constance L. Wilkins and Heanon M. Wilkins (Madison, WI, 1985). A useful study of the reign is J. B. Sitges, Las Mujeres del Rey Don Pedro I de Castilla (Madrid, 1910). While most of the literature relevant to Pedro is in Spanish, Clara Estow has contributed a fine full-length biography of the king in English entitled Pedro the Cruel, 1350–1369 (Leiden, 1995). Archivo de la Corona de Aragón/Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó [hereafter ACA], Cancillería real, Registro [hereafter R] 1379, fols. 12v–15v. The principal chronicle of the reign, in the writing of which the king himself was deeply involved, is Pere III of Catalonia (Pedro IV of Aragon), Chronicle, trans. Mary Hillgarth, ed. J. N. Hillgarth, 2 vols. (Toronto, 1980), 2: 496–503. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1379, fols. 12v–15v; Pere III, 2: 496–503. For details of this conflict from an Aragonese perspective, see Antonio Gutiérrez de Velasco, “La conquista de Tarazona en la guerra de los Dos Pedros (Año 1357),” 10–11 Cuadernos de Historia “Jerónimo Zurita” [hereafter CHJZ] (1960), 69–97; Gutiérrez de Velasco, “Las fortalezas aragonesas ante la gran ofensiva castellan en la guerra de los Dos Pedros,” 12–13 CHJZ (1961), 7–39; Gutiérrez de Velasco, “La contraofensiva aragonesa en la guerra de los Dos Pedros: Actitud militar y diplomática de Pedro IV el Ceremonioso (años 1358 a 1352),” 14–15 CHJZ (1963), 7–30; Donald J. Kagay, “The Defense of the Crown of Aragon during the War of the Two Pedros (1356–1366),” The Journal of Military History 71 (2007), 11–33. For the Castilian side of events, see Villalon, “Cut off their Heads.” The highly political nature of Pere the Ceremonious is explored by David A. Cohen, “Secular Pragmatism and Thinking about War in Some Court Writings of Pere III ‘el Cerimoniós’,” in Crusaders, Condottieri, and Cannon: Medieval Warfare in Societies around the Mediterranean, ed. Donald J. Kagay and L. J. Andrew Villalon (Leiden, 2003), pp. 19–56. For an analysis of the impolitic policies of Pedro I that made possible the formation of this powerful coalition, see L. J. Andrew Villalon, “Pedro the Cruel: Portrait of a Royal Failure,” in Medieval Iberia: Essays on the History and Literature of Medieval Spain, ed. Donald J. Kagay and Joseph T. Snow (New York, 1997), pp. 205–16. Joaquín Miret y Sans, “Négociations de Pierre IV d’Aragon avec la cour de France (1366– 1367),” Revue Hispanique 13 (1905), 81–2.

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In January,1366, the free companies under the future constable of France, Bertrand du Guesclin (d. 1380), gathered around Barcelona where they joined Enrique de Trastámara and his Castilian supporters as well as a large force of Aragonese under the Count of Denia, in an invasion of Castile. Marching westward past Zaragosa, they crossed the frontier and in short order took the northern capital of Burgos where they crowned as the new monarch of Castile their leader, Enrique, who thus became Enrique II (r. 1366–67/1369–79).34 Meanwhile, Pedro, having refused to face this formidable force in the field, fled south to Seville, then into Portugal, and finally to the English territories in Aquitaine. Here, on the strength of an alliance he had signed in 1362, he appealed for aid to the English commander on the continent, Edward of Woodstock (1330–76), usually referred to in the chronicles as the prince of Wales (Galles), but widely known to later historians as the Black Prince;35 thereby involving England’s greatest soldier of the period in one of his last major military endeavors.36 The Battle of Nájera In February 1367, the prince led a sizeable Anglo-Gascon army across the Pyrenees and through Navarre to restore Pedro to the throne. Standing in the path of this juggernaut was a Castilian force serving under Enrique and Du Guesclin that included a considerable part of the kingdom’s upper nobility. While the largest Spanish component consisted of cavalry, much of it light cavalry (jinetes or geneteurs) of the sort spawned by medieval Iberian warfare, it also contained a large body of native infantry, drawn from the northeastern region of the kingdom where the campaign was being conducted. Fighting alongside the Castilians were sizeable contingents of Aragonese volunteers and Franco-Breton mercenaries, the latter like their opponents hardened veterans of the decades-

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The principal source for the history of this reign is the second of four chronicles by Pedro López de Ayala, Crónica del Rey Don Enrique Segundo de Castilla [hereafter Ayala, Enrique II] in CRC 2, BAE 68 (Madrid, 1953), pp. 1–64. While Enrique dated his reign from his coronation in 1366; most historians date it from 1369, the year in which he finally “eliminated” his halfbrother, Pedro I. For Enrique’s war-like nature, see the author’s article in an earlier issue of this journal: L.J. Andrew Villalon “Battle-Seeking, Battle-Avoiding or Perhaps Just Battle-Willing? Applying the Gillingham Paradigm to Enrique II of Castile,” Journal of Medieval Military History [hereafter JMMH], 8 (2010), 131–54. Most historians attribute this sobriquet, not mentioned in historical sources until long after Edward’s death, to a penchant for wearing black armor. See, for example: Henry Dwight Sedgwick, The Life of Edward the Black Prince, 1330–1376 (New York, 1993), p. 27. The best modern account of the invasion is still P. E. Russell, The English Intervention in Spain & Portugal in the Time of Richard III & Richard II (Oxford, 1955), pp. 58–63. See also Benjamin F. Taggie, “The Castillian Foreign Policy during the Reign of Pedro I, 1350–1369,” (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Michigan State University, 1972), pp. 282–83, 379–82. Antonio Gutiérrez y Velasco, “Los Ingleses en España (Siglo XIV),” Estudios de Edad Media de la Corona de Aragón 4 (1951), 215–319, see especially pp. 268–70.



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long struggle between England and France. Several sources also mention a not insignificant number of Genoese crossbowmen fighting on the Spanish side. After some weeks of maneuvering, the two armies clashed several kilometers east of the town of Nájera where the English and their Gascon allies inflicted upon their Spanish, French, and Breton opponents one of the century’s most crushing defeats. Although the Spanish center fought well, it was forced to surrender when both wings collapsed in the face of a charge from the English right and massed longbow fire from the English left. The prisoners included the French leader, Bertrand du Guesclin; his second-in-command, Marshal d’Audrehem; Enrique’s brother, Sancho, and illegitimate son, Alfonso; the highest ranking Aragonese noble on the field, the count of Denia; and the future chronicler, Pedro López de Ayala. For those not killed or captured during the battle, there followed a panicked flight westward toward the town, one which ran out of ground when participants reached the swollen Rio Najarilla with its single bridge. Here, many were slaughtered by the pursuing enemy, while many others drowned37 in this minor tributary of the Ebro that, according to one witness, had been transformed by winter rains into a formidable obstacle: More than two thousand were drowned there. In front of Najara, on the bridge, I assure you that the pursuit was very fell and fierce. There might you see knights leap into the water for fear, and die one on the other; and it was said that the river was red with the blood that flowed from the bodies of dead men and horses.38

Even those who successfully eluded this watery grave faced one final, but very significant impediment. Having crossed into Nájera, many found further escape all but impossible due to the surrounding cliffs which sealed off most of the back of the town except for two relatively narrow passages, one to the north and one to the south, a topographical feature pointed out by neither the contemporary sources nor modern historians.39 Enrique was fortunate to escape

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During the authors’ several visits to Nájera, first in September 2004, and again in July 2011 (in both instances during the dry season), the Rio Najerilla running through the town of Nájera was nothing more than a shallow, slow-flowing brook in which it would be exceedingly difficult if not impossible to drown. To turn it from this trickle into the torrent suggested by the chronicle account would require either a very wet season or an amazing leap of imagination on the part of the chronicler. Unfortunately, we do not know if the regular volume of water was stronger in the late fourteenth century than it is today or if water has been drawn off farther upstream by modern agricultural techniques such as irrigation. Pope and Lodge, p. 164. For lists contained in different sources naming participants in the battle and specifying which of these numbered among those killed or captured, see the appendices to Villalon’s article, “The Battle of Nájera,” pp. 58–70. An example of this historical oversight is to be found in a recent book on medieval warfare that supplies a full color map of the battle. Instead of showing a long, narrow town that takes its shape due to the overhanging cliffs to the west, it “rounds out” Nájera and portrays the western side of the town as consisting of fields similar to those found to the east of the Rio Najarilla. See Matthew Bennett, Jim Bradbury, Kelly DeVries, Iain Dickie and Phyllis Jestice, Fighting

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with his life, when during the retreat, he and a small number of companions opted to swing southward, thus avoiding capture in the town.40 Principal Sources While a number of fourteenth-century authors write about the battle of Nájera, several such accounts are of particular importance, having been set down by authors of whom three were indisputable eyewitnesses, and the fourth almost certainly so.41 Of these four, the two earliest are letters dashed off in the days immediately following the battle by the principal winners – one by the Black Prince, the other by the king whom he served. Perhaps as early as Sunday, 4 April, while still resting in the Spanish camp that had been overrun the preceding day, Edward of Woodstock wrote to his “very dear companion” back in Aquitaine, the Princess Joan, informing her in general terms of the splendid victory he had won.42 Unfortunately for scholars, Edward’s letter to the “fair maid of Kent” is brief and relatively uninformative. Admittedly, it does confirm the date of the battle, the day of the week, and the time of day as well as the geographic location near “the river of Nájera.” It is also useful in confirming that the English army was running out of food at the time of the engagement. Most significantly, it is the best source we have concerning the number of casualties inflicted and prisoners taken. On the other hand, the letter tells us virtually nothing about what took place during the campaign or

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Techniques of the Medieval World, AD 500–AD 1500, Equipment, Combat Skills, and Tactics (New York, 2005), pp. 158–59. Since Enrique had been in Nájera on several former occasions, he must have been aware of the difficulties involved in exiting the town. In July 2011, in an attempt to map out the paths both armies followed during the campaign, the authors found what was almost certainly the monarch’s escape route: a road that starts just east of Nájera and runs southward toward the famous monastery of San Millán de Cogolla. In addition to the Black Prince and King Pedro, there can be no doubt that Ayala participated in the battle. He informs us in his chronicle where he was stationed on the battlefield and lists himself among those captured by the English. In that work, we learn that the future chronicler stood in the thick of the action – the dismounted Spanish center commanded by Bertrand du Guesclin – where he functioned as standard bearer for the Order of the Sash (Orden de la Banda), Castile’s elite order of chivalry to which the kingdom’s most renowned warriors belonged. It was these Castilians who stood their ground alongside the Franco-Breton troops while most of their countrymen fled. Ayala also lists himself among those taken prisoner. See Ayala, Pedro I, p. 557. While the evidence is not as strong for the presence of the Chandos Herald, there is virtually universal agreement among historians that he too was an eyewitness to the events he recorded. For the development of the Orden de la Banda, see Jesús D. RodríguezVelasco, Order and Chivalry: Knighthood and Citizenship in Late Medieval Castile, trans. Eunice Rodrígues Ferguson (Philadelphia, 2010), pp. 118–59. A. E. Prince, “A Letter of Edward the Black Prince Describing the Battle of Nájera in 1367,” English Historical Review 41 (1926), 415–18; for the original text of the letter, see p. 418. See also: Eugene Déprez, “La bataille de Nájera (3 avril 1367). Le communiqué du Prince Noir,” Revue historique (1921), 37–59. An English translation of the letter is available in Barber, Life and Campaigns, p. 83.



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on the battlefield. Apparently, Edward felt no need to communicate such details to his beloved wife.43 The prince was not the only “royal” writing letters. In the opening months of 1367, King Pedro addressed his people in at least three communications, the third dated 15 April, informing them of his great victory and calling on them to arrest or expel all who had supported his rival.44 Sadly, although it too establishes the time and location of the battle, the king’s letter is even more lacking in details than the prince’s. The only really interesting piece of information it adds comes in Pedro’s assertion that “we have been victorious over the traitor, but do not know if he has been captured or killed”; in other words, twelve days following the battle, Enrique’s enemies were still unaware of his fate. By far the most important accounts of Nájera are to be found in the two other writings by eyewitnesses, one prose, the other poetry, both fairly lengthy and apparently generated some twenty years after the event. The prose account is the chronicle of Pedro “the Cruel” composed by that many-talented Castilian soldier, royal official, diplomat, poet, and, in his later years, one of the foremost chroniclers of late medieval Europe, Pedro López de Ayala. About Ayala, enough information survives to reconstruct a fairly detailed account of his career.45 By

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By all accounts, the marriage was a love match, of which the groom’s father, King Edward III, did not entirely approve. For more information on the various marriages of Joan, including her eventual marriage to the Black Prince, see Karl Wentersdorf, “The Clandestine Marriages of the Fair Maid of Kent,” Journal of Medieval History 5 (1979), 203–31. The three letters, addressed to the people of the city of Murcia, are in Documentos de Pedro I, ed. Angel Luis Molina Molina, 2 vols. in Colección de Documentos para la Historia del Reino de Murcia (Murcia, 1978), 2: 196–99. Letter 142 (19 February) announced the king’s return to Spain; letter 143 (1 April) called on his supporters to rise up against officials appointed by his bastard half-brother; and letter 144 (15 April) told of the victory at Nájera. Unfortunately, most of the public documentation from Pedro’s reign has disappeared; consequently, while the only surviving copies of these reside in the Murcian archives, it is extremely likely that similar letters were sent to a number of towns throughout Castile. The first biographical treatment of Pedro López de Ayala appears in Fernán Pérez de Guzmán’s Generaciones y Semblanzas, an early fifteenth-century work in which the author provided sketches of his contemporaries. Guzmán states that the Ayala family had branched off from the older and very illustrious line of Haro. See Pérez de Guzmán, Generaciones y Semblanzas, ed. J. Dominguez Bodona (Madrid, 1965), pp. 37–9. For a modern, full-length account of the chronicler’s life and work, see Michel Garcia, Obra y personalidad del Canciller Ayala (Madrid, 1983). This work appends several of the contemporary sources that supply our information concerning the author. Despite providing useful material on his political career, an earlier biography by Luis Suárez Fernández, El Chanciller Ayala y su Tiempo (Vitoria, 1962) exhibits several serious flaws, including an incomprehensible lack of pagination. One of the most recent treatments of the chronicler is Michel Antonio Serrano de Haro, El embajador Pero López de Ayala (1332–1407) (Madrid, 2001). English readers should consult Helen Nader, The Mendoza Family in the Spanish Renaissance 1350–1550 (Rutgers, 1979). Nader’s third chapter, entitled “Pedro López de Ayala and the Formation of Mendoza Attitudes,” provides a fine capsule biography of the great chronicler, a penetrating analysis of his chronicle of Pedro I, and valuable bibliography. See also: Clara Estow’s article, “Royal Madness in the Crónica del Rey Don Pedro,” Mediterranean Studies 6 (1996), 13–28.

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contrast, the same cannot be said about the other author, the man known to history only as the Chandos Herald.46 The Herald of Chandos The true name of the Chandos Herald remains a matter of speculation, as it will continue to be unless new evidence comes to light.47 On the basis of the language in which the poem was written, there exists a consensus among scholars, including the more recent editors, that it was the work of a native of the county of Hainault,48 the region that also produced Europe’s foremost chronicler of the period, Jean Froissart.49 The two men were probably known to one another; what is more, there seems to be no doubt that the Froissart drew heavily upon the herald for his account of the battle.50 On roughly half a dozen occasions, his chronicle mentions a figure identified only as Chandos li hiraus or simply Chandos, in all instances in relation to his duties as a herald rather than as an author.51 Since the herald’s poem follows the life of the Black Prince to his demise in 1376, its completion clearly postdates that event. Internal evidence, however, allows us to date the work even more precisely. In line 1816, the herald states that the events he was recording had occurred “not twenty years ago,”52 implying that he was in the process of composing his poem around the early to mid 1380s, approximately the same time that Ayala was drafting his chronicle.53

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On the whole, scholars whose research centers on areas north of the Pyrenees are far better acquainted with the herald’s account of Nájera than they are with Ayala’s. A recent example of this can be seen in Robert W. Jones’ book, Bloodied Banners: Military Display on the Medieval Battlefield (Woodbridge, 2010) where the author makes repeated reference to the work Among the attempts to further identify the Chandos Herald, the most compelling is one put forward by E. J. F. Arnould in his 1953 article calling the attention of Old French scholars to the London manuscript. Arnould cited a passage from the Black Prince that mentions a “Haneray, herald-of-arms, who came from beyond the seas in the company of Sir John Chaundos” who in 1355 received a gift of money from the prince. While the theory connecting the otherwise unknown Haneray to the Chandos Herald has much to be said for it, no additional evidence has been found that would bear it out. Tyson, “Introduction,” pp. 14–18. Ibid., pp. 12–14. Jean Froissart, Chronicles of England, France, and Spain and the Adjoining Countries from the Latter Part of the Reign of Edward II to the Coronation of Henry IV, trans. Thomas Johnes, 2 vols. (London, 1857). Froissart’s account of the events in Spain that occurred in 1366–67 is to be found in volume 1 of Thomas Johnes’ translation. Tyson, “Introduction,” p. 15, note 66, p. 28. Michel, Preface, pp. v–viii; Tyson, “Introduction,” p. 16. Barber, Edward, p. 108. Estow, who has studied Pedro’s reign extensively, places the composition of his chronicle around 1384. Internal evidence from the chronicle on which Estow bases this judgement strongly suggests that Helen Nader is incorrect when she states “after [Ayala’s] last visit to Avignon in 1396, he wrote chronicles of the reigns of the four kings he had served,” unless



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While Ayala provides our best overall understanding of how the campaign unfolded, it is not surprisingly the herald’s account that provides most of our information concerning what was happening on the English side, not only during the battle itself, but throughout the entire expedition. It is he who tells something of the negotiations for English aid conducted at Bordeaux; the gathering of men and materiel for the expedition; the birth in the midst of their departure of the prince’s son, the future Richard II (r. 1377–99); the hurried arrival from England of Edward’s brother, the duke of Lancaster; a difficult late winter crossing of the Pyrenees; the dispatch of an advance party under Thomas Felton sent to scout out the enemy; the strange kidnapping of the king of Navarre; an original unsuccessful swing westward through Salvatierra to Vitoria; the brief stay there with all its hardships and frustration followed by a rapid march back through Navarre to Logroño and thence to Nájera. Many of these things Ayala does not mention at all. And in instances where both chroniclers write about something involving the English, the herald adds important detail. Only in the case of the Navarrese king’s “kidnapping” is Ayala’s recounting of events on the other side of the line decidedly superior. But there is another side to the herald’s account that makes it indispensable to subsequent historians who would chronicle the battle of Nájera: for it is this unnamed individual who, far more than his Castilian contemporary, provides some idea of what actually transpired on the battlefield. While both set forth such basics as the order of battle in their respective armies, telling who was stationed where, the herald relates many other useful details not found in the chronicler’s work. For one thing, he sketches in some of “the business of chivalry” conducted on the eve of battle – the knighting of English combatants, the unfurling of banners, the bravado of the English captain, Sir John Chandos, as he galloped along the line between the armies, reining in before the Black Prince and proclaiming in a great piece of martial theatre his undying loyalty; the prince’s rousing speech to his troops just before launching them into battle – all important aspects of medieval warfare largely ignored by Ayala.54 It is the herald who tells how the battle started; namely, that the English opened hostilities when their center and right attacked the Castilians. Both men tell of the perfidy of Enrique’s brother, Don Tello, who had command of the Castilian left and who fled, followed by most of his men, even before contact

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she means that during the closing years of his life, he put finishing touches on works started earlier. Estow, “Royal Madness,” p. 16 n. 11; Nader, Mendoza Family, p. 61. The significance of such display in medieval warfare is penetratingly explored in Bloodied Banners, where Jones deals at great length with the psychology of medieval warriors as expressed through the ceremonial aspects of battle in which they participated. For his part, Ayala mentions only the knighting of King Pedro I by the Black Prince earlier in the campaign; otherwise, he passes over in silence any other ceremonial action that may have been occurring on his side.

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with the advancing English right.55 On the other hand, Ayala’s account of what actually happened in the center or out on the Castilian right, the two places where the battle was decided, is both sketchy and confusing. Nor does he tell us of the extensive slaughter that occurred as the fleeing Spanish forces were channeled onto a single narrow bridge across the Najarilla. By contrast, the herald sheds far more light on what was actually occurring both during and after the battle; most importantly the action on the English left where Enrique’s cavalry took the fight to his enemy, only to be decisively repulsed by English archery: While the Spaniards hurled with might archegays, lances, and darts, [English] archers shot thicker than rain falls in winter time. They wounded [Enrique’s] horses and men, and [when] the Spaniards perceived well that they could no longer endure, they began to turn their horses and took to flight.56

Like many if not most medieval authors, the herald delights in regaling his audience with individual cases of knightly combat; witness his description of a deadly wrestling match between Sir John Chandos and a Spanish opponent, the best illustration of just how brutal the close-quarters fighting in the center actually became.57 Yet his brief passage describing fighting on the Castilian right tells us three critical things for really understanding how the battle developed: first, that at least some of the Spanish infantry, in the form of slingers, did actually take part; second, that the unequal exchange between longbowmen and slingers went to the former; third, that it was this that ultimately drove the Spanish horse from the field leaving that army’s hard-fighting center exposed on both flanks. The Mysterious Walter of Peterborough In addition to the almost certain accounts produced by eye-witnesses (those of Prince Edward, King Pedro, Ayala, and the Chandos Herald), there is that second poem by Walter of Peterborough which, despite its numerous shortcomings, may – or may not – enjoy a similar distinction of having been produced by one who was present at the battle. The remainder of our article will explore this work, its date of composition, and the presence – or absence – from the battlefield of its author, the monk of Revesby. As noted earlier, the poem appeared in print for the first and only time in Thomas Wright’s two-volume collection of 1859. The vast majority of sources Wright incorporates within volume one are little-known Latin, French, or

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According to the chronicler, not only did Tello fail to launch an attack on the English right, when the English troops he was facing began to more forward “he and those with him did not await their coming, but broke and fled from the field.” See Ayala, Pedro I, p. 557. Pope and Lodge, p. 163. Ibid.



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English poems from the fourteenth century, a number of them focusing on military matters.58 Wright actually includes two Latin poems devoted to the battle of Nájera. The first of these, an anonymous work written in a fairly straightforward style, he entitles “On Prince Edward’s Expedition into Spain.”59 Like Walter of Peterborough’s poem which appears immediately after it, this work survives in two manuscript copies;60 unlike Walter’s poem, it is relatively short (just eighty lines).61 Due in all probability to their similar subject matter, Wright groups the pair together in his volume. At the same time, he makes no attempt to attribute the shorter one to Walter’s authorship. And while it is not impossible that the poems may be the work of a single writer (though this is rendered somewhat unlikely by their stylistic differences), it is just as possible that the shorter composition was produced by some other contemporary, wishing to announce the prince’s victory in verse rather than prose.62 Unlike the shorter poem, the longer work that follows is set forth in a highly florid Latin and is filled to the brim with the imagery of late-medieval chivalry. It is the creation of a minor fourteenth-century cleric, known primarily through his brief self-description in the prologue. Here, he tells the reader his name, “Walterus”; his birthplace, the Burgh of Peter (Burgi Petri) or Peterborough; and the fact that he is a monk from the monastery at Revesby, a Cistercian institution in Lincolnshire that had once been ruled by the illustrious abbot, Aelred of Rievaulx, but had fallen on hard times during the early fourteenth century.63 The entire poem deals with the English expedition into Spain and although it mentions various participants, it lavishes most of its praise on just one of them – the Black Prince’s younger brother, John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, whose confessor Walter may have been.64 The work is not actually dedicated to

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In addition to two poems concerning Nájera, there are others that deal with the battles of Crécy and Neville’s Cross as well as songs related to the wars of Edward III. The most important of these English works was the anonymous “Vows of the Heron.” See Wright, 1: 40–53, 58–90, 94–122. For a recent discussion of “Vows of the Heron,” see Dana L. Sample, “Philip VI’s Mortal Enemy: Robert of Artois and the Beginning of the Hundred Years War,” in Villalon and Kagay, Hundred Years War (Part II), pp. 261–84. For the text, see: The Vows of the Heron = Les voeux du heron: A Middle English Vowing Poem, ed. John Grigsby and Norris J. Lacy, trans. Norris J. Lacy (New York, 1992). “On Prince Edward’s Expedition into Spain,” Wright, 1: 94–6. Carlson refers to this poem as “Gloria cunctorum,” a title he derives from its first line. Carlson, Poetry and Propaganda, p. 70. The manuscripts of the poem are to be found in the British Museum, MS Cotton, Titus A xx, fol. 47v, and Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson, no. 214, fol. 133. The poem fits neatly onto three pages of the printed volume. By contrast, Walter of Peterborough’s work covers nearly twenty-six pages. Wright’s judgement on the shorter poem is more critical than that of the authors of this article: he characterizes it as being written “in a very affected style of versification.” Wright, 1: xxv. The Cistercian Abbeys of Britain: Far from the Concourse of Men, ed. David Robinson (Batsford, 1998). In a work entitled A History of Anglo-Latin Literature 1066–1422 (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 277, 384, A. G. Rigg advances this suggestion, but cites very little supporting evidence.

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the duke, but instead to his treasurer, John Marthon, with whom Walter seems to have been on quite friendly terms.65 On the other hand, its egregious flattery is clearly directed at the noble patron of both men, a figure whom the author repeatedly extols as the font of all military virtue. An example of this obsession with the duke’s role in the Spanish expedition appears at the very opening of the poem where Walter places him on a par with the man most contemporaries thought of as the victor of Nájera and the unparalleled paragon of chivalry, the Black Prince. “Here begins the dedicatory preface to the work that follows concerning the victory in the Spanish war won by Prince Edward and his brother, John, duke of Lancaster in behalf of Peter, the king of Spain.”66 In fact, toward the end of his tedious account, Walter seems to admit writing it in the hope of acquiring some reward or preferment from its subject (not surprising given the effort involved in composing even 560 bad verses). According to the author, his hopes in this regard had been dashed.67 One can only surmise that Lancaster was not all that impressed by a poem that so extravagantly praised him while singularly failing to provide anything approaching a coherent picture of what had actually happened on the expedition!

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Carter Revard also touches on Walter of Peterborough: “Was the Pearl Poet in Aquitaine with Chaucer? A Note on Fade, I.149 of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” SELIM: Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval, 5 no. 11 (2001–2002), 5–26, esp. 16–19. Revard quotes verbatim Rigg’s speculation that Walter may have been the duke’s confessor, but provides no further evidence. The opening lines of the poem supply only a Latin variant of this individual’s name (Johannes Martonensis) without any further explanation: “Mi Martonensis, pater amplexande, Johannes/ Acceptetis opus hoc breve quaeso meum.” Fortunately, one of the two surviving manuscripts (MS Rawlinson) contains glosses to the poem, one of which supplies a further clue as to the identity of the dedicatee: “to the Lord John Marthon, treasurer to Lord John, duke of Lancaster, a most familiar friend of the author of this work (ad dominum Johannem Marthon thesaurarium domini Johannis ducis Lancastriae, amicum familiarissimum auctoris hujus operis).” A search for this elusive figure through several sources detailing the Lancastrian household merely repeats the information derived from Walter’s poem. See: Wright, 1: 97; Simon Walker, The Lancastrian Affinity, 1361–1399 (Oxford, 1990), p. 285. For Gaunt’s officials, see R. Somerville, “The Duchy of Lancaster and the Court of Duchy Chambers,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 23 (1941), 159–77; Elizabeth H. Will, “John of Gaunt’s Attendance Rolls in the Glynde Archive MS 3469,” Fourteenth Century England, vol. 5, ed. Nigel Saul (Woodbridge, 2006), pp. 13–30. Revard widened the search for Marthon into other contemporary sources. If information he has uncovered refers to the same individual, then Walter’s mentor was one John de Marton, a cleric of the diocese of York who appealed to Rome for a benefice as early as 1345 and who, by the mid-1350s, had found his way into the service of Henry de Grosmont, duke of Lancaster and father-in-law to the later duke, Walter of Peterborough’s patron. See Revard, “Was the Pearl Poet in Aquitaine with Chaucer?” pp. 17–18. Wright, 1: 97 (our italics). The Latin reads “per principem Edwardum et Johannem confratrem ejus ducem Lancastriae.” Wright, 1: 122.



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Synopsis of Walter’s Poem 1: The Campaign Walter of Peterborough opens his account of the Spanish expedition with a grandiose statement concerning conflict between two trios of distinguished brothers: I am ready to tell of the wars wherein fought brothers of distinguished lineage. Rarely has anyone brought forth more noble offspring. Indeed, three brothers against three commenced this struggle.68

Almost immediately, however, he qualifies this poetic dichotomy which did not fit the facts, explaining to the reader that only one of the two trios was distinguished in the sense of being legitimate. The other threesome – Enrique de Trastámara [Henricus],69 and his brothers, Tello [Thilo] and Sancho [Senchius] – were all illegitimate, or in the words of the poet, “born in disgrace.” Nor does Walter’s condemnation stop here: he goes on to speak of them as “the evil ones.” Elsewhere, in a muddled metaphor likening their presence to thistles among grain, he suggested they were the “avaricious, cruel, and bloody seed of adultery.”70 Walter also concedes that of the legitimate trio, only two members – the Black Prince and the duke of Lancaster – actually enjoyed fraternal ties. The third – Pedro of Castile – was a legitimate brother of the three bastards; he was only a “brother-in-arms” to the prince and the duke, a brotherhood forged by their dangerous undertaking to help him regain his throne and the hardships they faced in achieving that end. According to A. G. Rigg, one of the few scholars to have previously studied this poem: “The symmetry is very strained historically: Henry, Sancho, and Thilo [sic] were all illegitimate sons of Alfonso, but their legitimate brother Pedro was brother to the Black Prince and John of Gaunt only by treaty.”71 The poet went on to characterize Pedro as “the legitimate heir, recently rich and powerful, now brought down to a lowly state.” “Widely betrayed in his kingdom ... an exile from his realm,”72 the Castilian monarch had been forced to seek out the Black Prince for military aid in bringing about his restoration. Although won over by the deposed monarch’s “tears” as well as his own deter-

68

69

70 71 72

Wright, 1:101. In the brief section he devotes to Walter of Peterborough, Riggs attempts a poetic translation of several passages from the work, including the opening which he renders as follows: The wars of high-born brothers I declaim: Few lines have bred a stock of greater fame. Fraternal trio with three brothers strives Because of fathers and their many wives. Throughout the poem, the Castilian king is referred to using the Latin version of his name, Henricus, a name which the English scholars who have studied the poem translate as Henry. Throughout the article, we use the proper Spanish form, Enrique. Wright, 1: 100. A. G. Rigg, History of Anglo-Latin Literature, p. XXX. Wright, 1: 102.

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mination to punish what he regarded as a “lamentable state of affairs,”73 Edward felt compelled to require that his guest make the same case to his father, the king, whose approval would be necessary in order to launch a major military effort. Along with royal approval, the prince received added support in the form of his younger brother, the duke of Lancaster, who journeyed at the royal command to the general muster that Walter has occurring in Bordeaux. Lancaster brought with him the king’s reply as well as extensive reinforcements. Here, the siblings embraced, Edward heard news from home, and received the blessing of his royal parents as well as instructions to go forward. Returning to the fraternal theme, Walter stated: “They [the prince, the duke, and King Pedro] allied themselves by treaty, thereby establishing themselves as brothers. From then on they swore that the three would be as one.”74 The trio undertook intensive preparations, establishing camps for the gathering army, a force composed largely of English, Gascons, and Bretons, whose numbers spilled out beyond the city. In particular, the poet lauded the contributions of two men, the count of Foix and the sire de Pommiers, who “served the prince with all their might.”75 Walter supplies numbers of a sort for this force when he speaks of there being enough men to make up two legions; if he means the same thing as modern scholars by a legion, then the army might number approximately 10,000 to 12,000 men. On the other hand, he undercuts this assertion a few lines later when he admits, “I will not lie to you/ I am not able to establish their strength in numbers.”76 According to the poet, some consideration of the need to wage a just war in order to acquire divine aid played a role in English thinking.77 On the eve of departure, a messenger arrived bringing a belligerent letter from their adversary, Enrique de Trastámara, in which he warned the English leader to “lay aside his weapons and put off his journey” or he (Enrique) would “thunder forth.”78 To this challenge the prince “returned an emotional answer, designed to prove his case.”79 Edward cited as justification for his intervention the alliance between his ancestors and Pedro’s, his pity for the king’s plight, and the charge laid on him by his own father, the king of England. A herald was ordered to inform the English army of the prince’s response. “After having warned [Enrique] three times as provided for in law,”80 the prince advanced toward the Pyrenees. His men are said to have left no words for

73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

1: 1: 1: 1: 1: 1: 1: 1:

103. 104. 104. 106. 104. 105. 105. 105.



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their loved ones except “goodbye” and “farewell.” Having made the crossing, the army entered Navarre and descended onto a broad plain sufficient to accommodate their vast force. Here, the troops divided into three contingents “so there would be no occasion for dispute or the outbreak of famine.”81 Walter now named for the first time some of the leading figures in the AngloGascon army. According to the poem, the prince assumed a position in the center, the same position “Caesar had been pleased to hold.”82 To his right, in the contingent characterized as the army’s vanguard, was to be found his brother and deputy commander (summus legatus), the duke of Lancaster. By command of the prince, Sir John Chandos served as the duke’s “quaestor,” an archaic term the glossator of the Rawlinson manuscript translates as “seneschal” (senescallus). Surrounding the duke were the two thousand men he had brought with him. Walter also names as present in this part of the army several other English leaders, Stephen Cosington and someone he calls Girarde, in all probability, Guichard d’Angle. He refers to the positions they held using the classical term “praetor,” which the poem’s contemporary glossator rendered as “marshals” (marescallos).83 Behind Lancaster’s force and to the right of the prince’s own position, King Pedro had his camp. Near him were Hugh Calveley and Matthew de Gournay. Apparently, the contingent that would become the rearguard was stationed under the command of the king of Majorca out on the left hand side of the rest of the army. Also on the left was the king of Navarre accompanied by two more leading captains (praetors), identified by Walter as several of the most illustrious soldiers of the day, Robert Knolles and Olivier de Clisson. According to Walter, the duke of Lancaster led the advance into Castile “like the point of a sword in the hands of a brutal mercenary,”84 devastating fertile land as he went and killing those who refused to submit. As a result, when this huge force arrived before Salvatierra, the first major town in its path, the townspeople did not wait to be taken by storm, but instead “unlocked their gates” to their former sovereign and “expressed great regret at having broken their faith” after which they renewed their allegiance.85 Pressing forward from Salvatierra, the army reached a place Walter called Beticensis which he claims also quickly capitulated. As the army advanced, the prince learned from villagers that his adversary held the high ground in front of them. Early one morning, taking advantage of their better knowledge of the region and inadequate English pickets, a large Spanish raiding party swooped

81 82 83 84 85

Ibid., 1: 106. Ibid., 1: 106. This accords with the Chandos Herald who identifies both men as the marshals. Pope and Lodge, p. 154. Wright, 1: 108. Ibid., 1: 109.

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down from their position and attacked outlying sections of the English camp, catching many of the English in their beds. “Many they dispatched with their swords”; others they “dragged away in chains.”86 The most important casualty was William Felton; the most significant of the captives was Ralph Hastings. The hero of this initial encounter in Walter’s version was Lancaster who “drew up a battle line in the fields”87 and drove the Castilian raiders back into the mountains. It is when speaking of this fighting west of Salvatierra that Walter alleges “the king of Navarre was captured, but survived.”88 Despite costly surprise assaults mounted by the enemy, neither the prince nor Lancaster was prepared to ignore the dictates of chivalry simply to wage war. After beating off Enrique’s initial attack, they promoted a number of the men serving in their households, conferring either knighthood or possibly the status of banneret. According to Walter, the duke of Lancaster gave a dozen of his men a golden bridle “permitting each of them to lead a troop of a thousand men.”89 For his part, the Black Prince even knighted his ally, Pedro, despite the fact that the king was already in his mid-thirties and an experienced warrior in his own right. Like the others, he too went through the ceremony in which he was ritually slapped (collaphizavit).90 Although skirmishing between the two forces continued, it appears to have been more of an annoyance than a true threat to the prince’s army. On the other hand, Edward now faced a far more dangerous foe – supplies were running low. “Satan’s deceitful nature acted to have hunger overwhelm our lines.”91 By late March, the problem of hunger had become acute and the prince summoned his major captains to a council of war to ponder their next move. Having complimented them on their fortitude in the face of adversity, he raised the key issue: “the cooks lacked bread.”92 In the face of this intractable reality, the council determined that further attempts to provoke a major engagement would probably have to wait while the army found enough food to feed itself. This would mean attacks on fortified positions in the region, believed by the English to be repositories “to which the enemy had transported its precious grain.”93 There is even some suggestion in the poem that at this time, the prince may have divided his force into several different detachments in order to ease the foraging problem:

86 87 88 89 90

91 92 93

Ibid., 1: 109–10. Ibid., 1: 110. Ibid. ??? Ibid. ??? For knighthood ceremonies, see Richard Barber, The Knight and Chivalry (1979; repr. Woodbridge, 1995), pp. 31–4; Jean-Pierre Poly and Eric Bournazel, The Feudal Transformation 900–1200, trans. Caroline Higgitt (New York, 1991), pp. 102–7. Wright, 1: 111. Ibid., 1: 112. Ibid., 1: 111.



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Some, I believe, sought a better route into Castile, where there would be innumerable places without barred gates.94

As the Anglo-Gascon army pulled back from its original lines, Spanish forces continued to harass the flanks, compelling some of the English troops to take up defensive positions in a grove of trees. According to Walter, what he characterizes as the right wing was then forced for some time to traverse mountainous terrain where “men often slipped” while the “oxen perished on the rocks.”95 After a full day of such dangerous climbing, they reached a “quiet and narrow valley” where they spent a bitterly cold night. The following morning, the troops resumed their march which took them across another hill line before reaching what Walter calls “the maritime port of the boar.” A gloss from the Rawlinson manuscript identifies this as Logroño and explains that it took its name from the shape of a nearby headland or estuary where a river met the sea. Despite finding some food on the last leg of this harrowing journey, Walter asserts that there was still “scarcely a bean to eat in the camps.”96 It was at this point that “a courteous letter” from Enrique arrived, announcing that he and his supporters would take up their position to defend the realm “on the nearer bank of the river near Nájera.”97 In answer, the Anglo-Gascon force moved forward to meet the Castilians, with Lancaster commanding the vanguard, followed in short order by both the center under Edward and the rearguard whose task it was “to be certain that no ‘devil’ could attack them from behind.”98 According to Walter, the only non-combatants present with the army as it marched to the battle were the “priests ... camp followers, and prostitutes.”99 Synopsis of Walter’s Poem 2: The Battle Most of the remainder of the poem, some 265 lines filling seven pages in Wright’s volume, is devoted to the battle of Nájera. It is the lengthiest description that we have of this encounter. Unfortunately, despite its length, what one can learn from it is strictly limited. The major problem lies in its generic nature; in other words, although Walter leaves his reader with the impression of a hard-fought medieval battle, one in which the English side had an overwhelming advantage in its slicing up of opponents, there are none of the details present that clearly mark this as the battle of Nájera. It could instead have been any hard fought engagement of the period. The poet largely passes over the disposition of the two armies. The reader is told that the duke of Lancaster led the vanguard and

94 95 96 97 98 99

Ibid., 1: 112. Ibid., 1: 112. Ibid., 1: 113. Ibid. ??? Ibid. ??? Ibid., 1: 115–16.

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the prince commanded the main body; and that both, but especially the duke, were involved in close quarters fighting. But aside from that we learn very little; no other particulars are given, even in respect to the few other Englishmen mentioned in the poem. Even more bizarre is the description of the enemy in Walter’s account. Most of the groups fighting on the other side come directly from a fanciful western imagination: Saracens and innumerable Moors, Libyans, Numidians, Nathinian Jews, pitch-black Carthaginians, and insane Tripolitanians. As far as one can tell from the historical sources of the period, none of these groups had a presence on the field. This includes even those resident in Spain, such as Moors and Jews, both of which tended to support Pedro in the struggle for the crown. What is more, the depiction of these hordes having fallen by the hundreds in their highly unequal fight against the heroic English reads very much like a medieval chanson de geste such as the Song of Roland, and therefore, to the modern ear, has an almost comic-book quality about it. There is no indication that this lack of historical accuracy or even verisimilitude troubled Walter. The poem, after all, was intended primarily to serve the poet’s panegyrical agenda of extolling the heroism of the English, above all, the poet’s patron, the duke of Lancaster. For while several other English “heroes” are briefly mentioned by name in this gleeful tale of slaughter (i.e. Chandos, Cossington, and Calveley, as well as the prince), the vast majority of praise is lavished upon the duke, whom Walter early on characterized as “our light, our lion, our lyre.”100 In fact, the real victor of Nájera, the Black Prince, all but disappears from this sycophantic account; only a single reference is made to him in all of these stanzas. First and foremost, the poem is a tale of Lancaster’s prowess: The Duke stood among the first line as was his custom … He knew when to fight, when to advance with a steady pace, and when to    stand firm … That lion entered the fray, complete with sword and shield … Repeatedly, the Duke struck at the enemy, wishing to break through their    dense formation … With a few English troops, he drove forward and shattered their lines … Like an advancing tiger, he wore down even the strongest … The Duke thrust his flaming sword as if it were a divine lightning bolt … From his sword hurled thunderbolts as he securely beat back every assault … No one survived taking a blow from him …

When, according to Walter, a spear passed through the duke’s cloak, he merely threw it back at its owner, then continued to run down the fleeing enemy “this angry cat among mice.” “He cut down the foes who blocked his way, ran

100

Ibid., 1: 99.



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them through, slashed them to pieces, all the while cursing them.” Line after line, the poem continued in this vein.101 All this leaves the reader with an obvious question: does Walter’s account have any real value, historical or otherwise? Or is it just an egregious flight of fancy rendered more inaccessible by the fact that it is written in a convoluted Latin? In responding to this, one must search through the flattery for possible redeeming features. To begin with, in his hyperbolic style, Walter paints a picture of the battlefield far more vivid, if only derived from the imagination, than any of his more reliable contemporaries. Not only does he extol the prowess of his protagonist, he also gives a general account of what occurred on the field. Men were cut down … as if they were pairs fighting in the arena … Without the wounds being stitched up, the gore spilt forth … One of [the] vassals died with his brains dashed out … There occurred an immense slaughter such that you would scarcely believe if    I were to tell you about it … The Spanish … became so densely packed that no one could fall even in   death … Crowded together, some men are killed; some captured … Once our battle lines surged forward, [the Spanish] scattered across the    clearings and meadows … For the sins of the Bastard, thousands were given over to their fate, justly    turned into prostrate corpses … O Mars, across the fields, you have sown every type of weapon, ripped and    broken cuirasses, helmets, and iron caps … There were [spread about] many arms, legs, and feet from this massacre … A thousand hacked-up body parts will [later] be brought to light by the   plough.102

As we have already noted, such description is largely generic; it would probably fit any major medieval engagement in which one side suffered a substantial defeat followed by a rout. For this reason, it is of little use in determining the specifics of what happened at Nájera; to wit, the alignment of both armies at the start, the fighting as it developed in different places along the line, who fought where, and why one side achieved such a lopsided victory (aside from the presence of the duke!) At the same time, what is said could also be an account rendered by an eyewitness or at least someone who had access to eyewitnesses. The reduction of Nájera to little more than a bloody melee might well result from its having been seen through the eyes of an individual with little or no experience of war

101 102

Ibid., 1: 115–17. Ibid., 1: 115–21.

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– in short, a man such as Walter of Peterborough who had passed a good part of his life in the cloister rather than on the battlefield.103 But there are other, more specific statements made by the poet that may lend value to his work. According to Walter, when the battle began on the morning of 3 April, the English army entered the fray “with the wings ... fully extended on the field.”104 This assertion supports the Chandos Herald whose account strongly implies that what had been the rear guard during the march to the battlefield angled forward and became the Spanish left before the two sides engaged. Walter tells his reader that in the final minutes before the clash of arms, the English prince and his brother had a brief encounter, where each called on the other to act valiantly. The poem records Edward’s words to Lancaster: We must remember that we were not born to be considered unworthy. If we suffer capture, that fact will long be bruited about. And I swear that I would rather die than see ourselves enslaved to this underling, or be turned back without vindicating the right. Therefore let us be overcome and ruled by an ardent spirit. If we are called to death, let it be sanctified by our actions. Given our oaths, were we to flee for fear of the bastard, we should become a laughingstock for everyone – Scots, French, Scandinavians, and Germans. Therefore, when all is said and done, remember whose offspring you are, remember that you act here with rightful authority. And remember our unconquered ancestors.105

It is not unlikely that some such meeting would occur between two brothers on the eve of a major battle where either or both could have met their death. What is more, the words have a verisimilitude to them, coming as they did from the warlike sons of Edward III.106 According to Walter, after this conversation, the duke resumed his position at the head of the vanguard where “acting with a single intention, our men dismounted from their horses.”107 This line serves as a useful reminder that the English men-at-arms, encased in their heavy armor, must have ridden to the battlefield from their previous night’s camp near the village of Navarrete, a number a kilometers to the east. Before advancing against the dismounted

On the other hand, an argument can be made that what one is dealing with in Walter’s poetry is simply a literary trope, based on quite similar passages found in other military poetry such as the following from the work of Bertran de Born: We’ll soon see fields strewn with bits of helmets, shields, swords, and saddle bows and bodies split open from head to foot and horses wandering about aimlessly, and lances protruding from ribs and chest. See Songs of the Troubadours, ed. and trans. Anthony Bonner (New York, 1972), p. 137. 104 Wright, 1: 96. 105 Ibid., 1: 114. 106 Clifford J. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives through History: The Middle Ages (Westport, CT, 2007), p. 171. 107 Wright, 1: 114. 103



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Spanish center under du Guesclin it would have been necessary to dismount and have the horses led away to the rear; unless, that is, the English launched a mounted attack, something which according to the other sources did not happen, or at least not in the center of the field where Lancaster was located. Here, where the fighting was hardest, it was on foot and hand-to-hand. Amid his nearly unceasing paean of praise for his English patron, Walter does make an attempt, albeit not terribly successful, to acquaint his reader with just how extensive Spanish losses turned out to be. Although he first stated with his customary hyperbole that “as many men were slaughtered on this renowned field as there are grains of sand on the beach,”108 he then supplied specific, if disparate figures, placing Spanish losses at either 6,000 or 14,000 men.109 Interestingly, the only victim actually named in the poem did not number among them; he was instead an Englishman, John de Ferrers, the lord of Chartley, whom the poet characterized as “a heavenly martyr.”110 Walter also alleges that 3,000 of the enemy were said to have been captured, including 200 French lords. In naming these captives, Walter did slightly better than in respect to the dead. Prisoners included the enemy general, du Guesclin; King Enrique’s brother, Sancho, and his son, Alfonso; two Spanish leaders identified as “the great and beloved captains,” James and John, and the master of the military order of Christ, Baron Calatrapia.111 The three who can be identified with certainty – Du Guesclin, Sancho, and Alfonso – are all listed by other sources as numbering among those taken on the field. What is more, the other three named in the poem – James, John, and the Baron Calatrapia – are almost certainly the heads of the three religious orders, all of whom were also listed in other sources as having been captured immediately after the battle: the Grand Masters of the military orders of Santiago or St. James, the Grand Master of the order of Calatrava (hence Calatrapia), and the prior of the Hospitallers, or as it was formally known, the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem.112 Perhaps the most telling passages in Walter’s poem involve the role of English archery. At the beginning of his account of the battle he states: “The bow was neglected nor was the javelin hurled./ As the trumpets sounded, the struggle was begun with the thrusting of spears.”113 Subsequently, however, he makes a statement that at first glance appears contradictory: Whenever the corps of archers let loose their arrows like a virtual snowfall, The mob [of Spaniards] blindly fled as savage destruction rained down. As the skirmishers were put to flight, everywhere they became corpses.114

108 109 110 111 112 113 114

Ibid., 1: 117. Ibid., 1: 117, 121. Ibid., 1: 115. Ibid., 1: 121. All three are named by the herald as having been captured. See Pope and Lodge, p. 164. Wright 1: 115. Ibid., 1: 121.

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In fact, when combined, the two statements largely fit what we know of the battle from the Chandos Herald. In the center of the field, where the vanguard under Lancaster was stationed, the English surged forward against the dismounted Spanish center. Although the herald indicates that at this time some interchange did take place between English bows and Spanish crossbows, given the fact that the two sides closed so rapidly, it lasted only briefly. Consequently, fighting in the center came without the prolonged rain of English arrows characteristic of the great Anglo-French engagements of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. By contrast, according to the herald, it was out on the English left that longbowmen played their key role in the victory. There, Spanish skirmishers on foot followed by waves of light cavalry launched repeated attacks against the English rearguard that had angled forward to occupy a slight rise in the ground. And there, the Spanish were driven off the field by the archers. As noted earlier, it is the Chandos Herald, later echoed by Froissart, who makes us aware of the longbow’s role in the outcome of the battle; by contrast, the failure of the Spanish chronicler, Ayala, to make any mention of English archery is perhaps the most serious omission from his account. For his part, Walter lends support to the other pro-English versions when he too mentions, if only briefly, how the archers routed the Spanish. Two other passages from the poem seem to fit what occurred on the English left at Nájera. First, in speaking of the Spanish attack, Walter writes: The swift [Spanish] warriors and experienced knights.… Those skirmishers on horseback whose deeds you have already noted … were arrayed to destroy our wagons … [But] with the strength of his sword, Hugh Calveley proved equal to their strenuous blows.115

What the poet portrayed as an attempt to get at the English baggage train can only refer to the massive cavalry assault the Spanish unleashed against the English left. After all, an attack on the baggage train could only have come around one of the two flanks of the prince’s army and on the other side of the field, the Spanish were in no position to launch such an attack since most of the Spanish left had fled before the first blow could be struck. Walter’s mention of Hugh Calveley, one of his favorites, as having repulsed the attack corroborates this reconstruction of events for, according to the herald, Calveley was stationed on the English left, where he shared command with several others. Finally, there is Walter’s depiction of Spanish cavalry rushing about, but not daring to close with the English vanguard. “Riding around in cavalry troops while uttering curses and prayers, they avoided pressing home an attack on the duke.”116 This, in turn, agrees with one of the relatively few useful pieces of information that Ayala supplies concerning actual fighting on the field. In dealing with the role of Enrique II, the Spanish chronicler claims that the king tried valiantly, but ultimately without success, to rally his cavalry in an attempt 115 116

Ibid., 1: 120–21. Ibid., 1: 117.



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to relieve the hard-pressed and increasingly encircled Spanish center. It was only when these attempts failed that the king joined his men in flight. All Present and Accounted For? The first and most significant question that must occur to any reader of the poem (and, by extension, of the present article): was Walter of Peterborough present at the battle of Nájera, if only far to the rear of the action, and therefore an eyewitness of sorts to the events he records? Clearly, both of the scholars who have written about this poem in the past believe that he was there.117 In his introduction, Wright makes the following statement: “Walter of Peterborough … held some position in the household of … John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and appears to have accompanied him in this expedition for the restoration of Pedro the Cruel to the crown of Castile.”118 There is even less equivocation in Rigg’s assertion, “Walter was almost certainly present on the campaign.”119 While neither author supplies any supporting evidence, it is certainly possible that Lancaster brought Walter from England as part of his entourage, especially if, as Rigg surmises, the monk was his confessor. The fact that he is not mentioned in the chronicles signifies nothing; neither is the Chandos Herald. When it came right down to it, neither man had sufficient renown to earn a place in the written record, devoted as it is to knights and aristocrats. So what is the evidence, one way or another? To begin with, there are several arguments against Walter’s presence at the battle. If both the herald and Froissart are to be believed,120 Lancaster’s own presence seems to have been a last minute decision. All indications are that he and the knights who accompanied him had to hustle in order to make the journey from England to the mustering at Dax where the Black Prince was impatiently awaiting them. Under the circumstances, including in his military entourage civilians who might have slowed him down would have been less likely than if the journey had been accomplished at a more leisurely pace. Much more telling, however, are the numerous mistakes and misunderstandings found throughout the poem itself. To be blunt, one would expect more insight from someone who had actually marched with the Anglo-Gascon army for the several months that the campaign lasted, even when called upon to reduce his experience to Latin verse. Walter has the muster of the English army and the reunion of the two brothers occurring in Bordeaux; by contrast, not only the 117

118 119 120

By contrast, there is the more recent work of David Carlson. Although he manifests a certain measure of ambiguity on the question of whether or not Walter was present at the battle, on balance, he seems to believe that this was unlikely; that, in fact, the monk wrote his militant encomium of Lancaster largely on the basis of battlefield reports that, with the exception of the prince’s letter to his wife, Joan of Kent, no longer exist. See Carlson, Poetry and Propaganda, especially p. 75. Wright, 1: xxvi (our italics). Rigg, History of Anglo-Latin Literature, p. 277. Pope and Lodge, p. 153; Froissart, 1: 357.

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herald but also Froissart, who still seems to have been on the scene at this point, have Lancaster and his entourage stopping in Bordeaux only long enough to pay respects to his sister-in-law, Joan of Kent, then hurrying southward to meet his brother at the mustering which actually took place in Dax. 121 It was at Dax, not Bordeaux, that the army spilled out into the fields around the town.122 Walter has Lancaster bringing with him the letters from Edward III conveying permission to go forward with the expedition, permission that must have arrived much earlier in order for the preparations to have gone as far forward as they had. No mention is made of the difficult mid-winter crossing of the Pyrenees before the army reached Pamplona, something stressed by both the herald and Froissart.123 Walter’s assertion that the army marched from Pamplona to Salvatierra where the inhabitants opened their gates to Pedro agrees with the other accounts; thereafter, however, the geographical and chronological picture conjured up by the poet becomes increasingly muddled. Walter has the army next advancing against and overrunning a place he refers to as Beticensis. Afterwards, a fair amount of fighting took place in the vicinity, fighting in which the king of Navarre was captured. Eventually, the English withdrew in order to find a new route into Castile. There can be little doubt that Walter was referring to the major city west of Salvatierra, the Basque regional capital of Vitoria. According to the Chandos Herald, it was here that the two sides first clashed in a series of skirmishes and one fairly substantial encounter, in which Spanish forces seem to have enjoyed an advantage. Unfortunately, trying to link Walter’s place name – Beticensis – to Vitoria has been one of many frustrations his arcane terminology poses. Since the late sixth century, there had existed on this site a place called Victoriacum; consequently, there was no need for the poet to conjure up a Latin name that seems to exist nowhere but in his imagination. Nor is there any indication in the other sources that the prince’s army ever captured the city, only that it encamped in the environs. As for the king of Navarre, all other sources indicate that his “capture” had occurred some weeks earlier and as a result, he had not accompanied the army when it left Pamplona, despite his promise to do so.124 Walter then had the English scaling high mountains in their journey to Logroño, a city on the southern border of Navarre that he not only once again fails to call by its proper name, but which he appears to categorize as a sea port (“portum … marinum”), despite the fact that it lies nearly a hundred miles from the nearest coastline. The description of the prince’s army traversing mountains to reach Logroño makes virtually no sense as the authors of this article found out when, in the summer of 2011, they drove a rental car around the entire region. Not that Vitoria is lacking in mountains. South of the city and running eastward almost back to Pamplona, there is a profound hill line. The 121 122 123 124

Pope and Lodge, p. 153. Ibid., p. 152. Ibid., pp. 154–55; Froissart,, 1: 359–61; Wright, 1: 360–61. Ayala, Pedro I, pp. 550–51; Pope and Lodge, p. 156; Froissart, 1: 363.



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only roads that today pass southward through this difficult terrain, roads that an army might travel along, albeit in a dangerously strung out manner, are of modern origin. They would not have been available to the prince. In fact, two days of hard driving have convinced us that his army had no choice but to double back into Navarre almost as far as their starting point before angling southwestward toward Logroño. Here, the troops could spread out over a wide, relatively flat plain for the entire march and here, if necessary, the prince could quickly deploy into battle formation. It is just such a maneuver that the herald seems to be suggesting, albeit far too briefly to fully satisfy the modern military historian, when he states: “[The prince] turned back through Navarre; he crossed a pass which is called by name the Pas de La Guardia. He journeyed until he came to camp at Viana, and speedily after this it befell that he passed the bridge of Logroño.”125 Combine these repeated instances when Walter’s poem diverges from the more accurate accounts left by the herald and Froissart with the poet’s relatively uninformative description of the battle itself and one has strong grounds to argue against his presence. When it comes right down to it, all that he reports could easily be a confused rendition of what he had learned from returning veterans who had actually served the prince and the duke at Nájera. Set against all this, however, are two things that do point toward Walter’s presence. The least important of the two centers around those few verses already alluded to, in which the cleric’s depiction of the battle seems to be more or less correct. However, even these could be based on things he learned without ever leaving England. The second fact supporting his presence is harder to dismiss. At one point, Walter states “plures occisi periere patres ibi visi,” which translates as “I looked upon many nobles struck down and killed there.”126 In writing such a statement, the author seems to be claiming the status of an eyewitness. This is far clearer than anything we find in the Chandos Herald, whose presence at the battle few if any doubt. And it is seconded, though not as strongly, by another line in the poem: “dux fulmine dio urget ejus gladio flammigerante scio,” “As I know, the Duke thrust his flaming sword as if it were a divine lightning bolt.”127 Would Walter have dared to suggest that he had been present at the battle if it were not true? After all, his poem was directed even if not dedicated to the duke of Lancaster who had most certainly been present and would probably recognize the falsehood. Date of Composition A second pressing question remains: when was Walter of Peterborough’s poem written? The most important accounts of Nájera, even those written by eyewit-

125 126 127

Pope and Lodge, p. 159. The herald renders these place names as “Viane” and “le Groyng,” leaving none of the geographical doubts one encounters in Walter’s poem. Wright, 1: 117. Ibid., 1: 116.

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nesses, can be dated to one or more decades after the battle. The only clear exceptions are the letters dispatched by the Black Prince and King Pedro within days of their great victory. As indicated earlier, the evidence pretty well establishes the mid-1380s as the point in time when both the Chandos Herald and Ayala were composing their accounts. Then there is Walter’s work. In the printed version (and presumably in the manuscript text), there is at the end a brief colophon, also in Latin, identifying the author as W. Burgensem, and indicating that he produced his 560 verses in the year of our Lord 1366 (anno Domini M ccc lxvj). The colophon is clearly making a claim for contemporaneous composition. Unfortunately, however, it presents a problem. Since Nájera actually occurred in 1367, it could not have been written in the year the colophon specifies. There are several possible explanations for this chronological inconsistency, most of which involve an error in writing or copying the manuscript. If the surviving manuscript that contains the colophon was actually written in Walter’s hand, then it might be a simple error on his part in having omitted the final “i.” If instead a contemporary copyist drafted the manuscript, then he may have been the one responsible for the error. If in fact the colophon is not part of Walter’s original poem, but rather an explanatory note added at a later date, then it might have been produced by someone not terribly familiar with the events and therefore quite capable of confusing the years. One final possibility: it could have been a simple mistake on the part of the individual (presumably Thomas Wright) preparing the 1859 edition. It is even possible that the discrepancy may have resulted from the serious confusion that existed between England and the Continent in respect to systems of dating.128 Since Wright, whose critical apparatus can be most charitably described as minimalist, failed to delve into the chronological issue, one way to sort out these conflicting possibilities might be to consult the original manuscript; on the other hand, even this might not resolve the problem. In short, the colophon alone, particularly in the absence of the manuscript, is not sufficient to date the work. Fortunately, we can do without it. What is clearly an integral part of the poem rather than a possible later add-on again comes to our aid: several verses that the author included near the end seem to establish a terminus ad quem for the composition of Walter’s poem: “Now Pedro, you sit on the throne of your father,” or again, “St. Peter, we pray by the sacred flame that you may be a help to the just and a protection to Pedro.”129 If these lines are to be credited (and there is no real reason to doubt them), when Walter put down his pen, the controversial king of Castile had not yet met his own spectacular demise. Thus, the poem’s composition must have predated the assassination at Montiel

128 129

Ian Mortimer, The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England: A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century (New York, 2008), pp. 82–3. Wright, 1: 122.



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in March 1369, or at least the arrival in England of the news of that event. Thus, among surviving sources, only the royal letters are earlier. Conclusion This article has examined two extensive accounts of the battle of Nájera, both composed by pro-English poets. The most famous and most enlightening was written in French by the Chandos Herald; the other is a little-known Latin work by Walter of Peterborough, a minor cleric in the service of the duke of Lancaster. Each author celebrates “great deeds of arms” performed by one of the leading combatants on the field. The herald’s protagonist is the English commander, the Black Prince; for Walter, it is the prince’s younger brother, the duke. Both poems adhere to John of Salisbury’s definition of history as a “narration of deeds for the instruction of posterity.”130 Although the prince is said to have discouraged effusive praise as an unwise tempting of fate, neither he nor his brother were really averse to a certain degree of adulation; after all, without it, their “honor and reputation” would not be preserved across the broad expanse of time.131 The difference between the two authors lies in just how accurately each portrays the actual events while celebrating the deeds of their respective protagonists. When all is said and done, the herald’s account, whatever its shortcomings, remains one of the two most reliable sources concerning Nájera (the other being Ayala) precisely because his praise reflects reality. It was written by an individual to whom warfare was nothing new and whose presence on the field seems indisputable. And although the actual composition of the poem does not appear to have occurred until some two decades later, the author almost certainly worked from notes he had committed to writing at a much earlier date.132 When all is said and done, the herald’s account is the rock upon which any meaningful description of the encounter must be built. By contrast, in Walter’s narration, what actually happened on the battlefield seems of far less importance than how the great Englishmen about whom he is writing – in particular, his patron, the duke – supposedly comported themselves. Even if we acknowledge (albeit with some degree of skepticism) that the monk was present at Nájera and that the composition of his poems dates to within several years after the battle was fought, the fact remains that the work adds precious little new information concerning what actually took place on that

130 131

132

Ainsworth, p. 24. For the medieval notion of reputation as it related to personal honor, see F. R. P. Akehurst, “Good Name, Reputation and Notoriety in French Customary Law,” in Fama: The Politic of Talk and Reputation in Medieval Europe, ed. Thelma Fenster and Daniel Lord Smail (Ithaca, N.Y., 2003), pp. 77–8; Lori J. Walters, “Constructing Reputations: Fama and Memory in Christine de Pizan’s Charles V and L’Advision Cristine,” in ibid., p. 131. Tyson, “Introduction”, pp. 4, 15 note 66.

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April day in 1367. Virtually all credible insight that he supplies can be found in other, better-known accounts. So what value does Walter of Peterborough have for historians studying Nájera? On the whole, the value of his narrative lies in how it bears out various facts we know (or think we know) from the other sources. In fact, in some cases, the monk states much more emphatically what is merely hinted at by other authors. For example, there is the emphasis he places on the extreme deprivation experienced by the English army as it marched through Navarre and northeastern Castile – through a landscape just emerging from winter and therefore relatively devoid of food whose inhabitants had no enthusiasm for the presence of this horde of invaders. Walter’s account leaves no doubt that had the campaign lasted much longer, the English and their Gascon allies would have run out of supplies and been forced into an inglorious retreat or worse, been defeated outright by hunger. Had Enrique chosen not to fight, but instead initiated a scorched-earth retreat, his enemy would have melted away. While a number of sources at least suggest the logistical nightmare confronting the prince, only one other states it more graphically than Walter – the Frenchoriented Memoir de Bertrand du Guesclin (and, of course, the interminable poem on which it is based). In those accounts, Du Guesclin is portrayed as arguing strenuously with some of Enrique’s Spanish supporters, particularly the Aragonese Marqués of Denia, that they should avoid giving battle and let starvation do the rest. Only when accused by the Marqués of cowardice did the hot-headed Breton warrior abandon this position, possibly the worst military decision of his career, but one fully in keeping with his character. By contrast, while both Ayala and the herald hint at the desperate situation in which the English army found itself, neither gives it its proper due. Another significant “reinforcement” of what is already known from other sources lies in the passages dealing with the effect of English archery on the Spanish; in particular, on the Spanish cavalry. On this all important point, Walter provides independent testimony to what is stated by the herald and then borrowed by that other chronicler who had access to the herald’s work, Jean Froissart. Together, the three pro-English sources contribute a rather decisive rebuttal to Ayala’s hard-to-comprehend silence on this issue. In justice to Ayala, as standard bearer for the Order of the Sash, he held a position in the Spanish center where the effect of English archery was nothing compared to that encountered on the Spanish right, at least not until the end of the battle when both wings of the Spanish army had been swept from the field and the full weight of the English army converged on the Spanish center. Consequently, Ayala was not present when Enrique launched his main attack at the head of his right wing, at which point the massed cavalry the king led against the enemy seems to have run head on into this devastating weapon and been driven from the field. On the other hand, despite the fact that the chronicler did not witness this debacle, starting immediately after the battle he had access to compatriots who had been captured by the English, men who had fought on all parts of the



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field and could relate what had happened to them. What is more, he had nearly two decades to confer with survivors and reflect on the battle before writing his chronicle account. Under the circumstances, it is hard if not impossible to understand why such an astute observer would fail to mention the telling effect arrows must have had on the Spanish cavalry and, for that matter, on the Spanish center after the English surrounded it. Another of Walter’s verses, this one concerning a Spanish attack on the English baggage train, tends to bear out the herald and by extension, Froissart, both of whom portray the major Spanish effort coming against the left side of the English position. After all, as we have already noted, it was only on this side of the field that the Spanish could have launched any attack whatsoever, given the fact that on the other side Enrique’s brother, Don Tello, and most of the men under his command had “departed” early in the encounter. And such a sweeping movement by Spanish cavalry against the English left might well have spilled over into an attempt to get at the baggage. Finally, Walter’s account tends to reaffirm the significant role played by his patron, the duke of Lancaster, a fact made known by both Ayala and the herald, albeit without the same egregious hyperbole. In 1367, the twenty-seven year-old duke was entering several decades during which he would become England’s foremost military figure in the renewed warfare against France. Throughout the 1370s, he tried to fill the shoes (not all that successfully) of his elder brother, the Black Prince, who was forced to withdraw from the conflict three years after Nájera by a chronic illness he may have contracted in Spain. Having assumed control of English forces on the continent, Lancaster fought to defend his country’s French lands against inroads by the likes of Bertrand du Guesclin and Olivier de Clisson. In 1373 and again in 1378, he conducted massive chevauchées against French territory, not unlike those led by his elder brother in 1355 and 1356. Unfortunately for England and its new general, these costly expeditions did not produce another crushing victory akin to Poitiers. Later, in 1386–87, Lancaster again campaigned on the Iberian peninsula, this time in a vain effort to make good the claim he had acquired to the Castilian throne through marriage to Pedro I’s daughter. In the end, however, none of the duke’s other military efforts achieved more than a limited success, while several ended in outright failure. Nájera remained his one shining moment: the only time his hard fighting was crowned by an unequivocal victory. At the conclusion of his poem, Walter of Peterborough complains of not having received the patronage he had expected when embarking on such a labor-intensive piece of work: “we were hoping for praise or thought we would be given rewards, but we have sweated in vain, when we gave verses to you.”133 One of Gaunt’s principal biographers, Sydney Armitage-Smith, suggests why

133

Wright, 1: 122. The Latin reads: “Laudes sperabam, seu praemia danda putabam/ Frustra sudabam, vos metra quando dabam.” Whether this is addressed to the duke or his treasurer is somewhat unclear.

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this may have been the case. Lancaster, it seems, much preferred the work of an up-and-coming, young court poet named Geoffrey Chaucer. Perhaps the monk of Revesby and his turgid stanzas may have been lost in Chaucer’s broad shadow, no matter how flattering they were to the duke’s soldierly accomplishments.134

134

Armitage-Smith, John of Gaunt, p. 416.

8 The Wars and the Army of the Duke of Cephalonia Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429) Savvas Kyriakidis*

This article will examine the nature of the military operations conducted by the armies of the duke of Cephalonia, Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429). The Toccos were originally from Benevento and served the Angevin rulers of Sicily for many years. In 1330/31 Carlo’s grandfather, Guglielmo, was appointed captain of Corfu. In 1357, Carlo’s father, also Guglielmo, was appointed by Robert of Taranto count of Cephalonia and Zakynthos and soon added Vonitsa (Bonditsa) and Leukas to his domains. Guglielmo Tocco died in 1375/76 while his sons, Carlo and Leonardo were still infants. Their mother, Maddalena Buondelmonti, who was acting as their regent, had their titles confirmed by Queen Joanna of Naples.1 When he took over the reins of his principality, Carlo I Tocco exploited the extreme political fragmentation, which ensued after the collapse of the Serbian empire of Stefan Dušan (1331–55) and the dramatic territorial reduction of the Byzantine empire, to expand his principality in Western Greece, in Albania and in the Peloponnese. His military exploits are the subject of an anonymous chronicle known as the Chronicle of the Toccos which covers the period 1375–1422 and its compilation was completed in 1429.2 It is likely that this anonymous work was commissioned by Carlo I Tocco himself.3 Nevertheless, in spite of being a work of propaganda, the chronicle of the family of the Toccos is an excellent source of material on the warfare between the small political entities that were established in Western Greece and Albania in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. * 1

2

3

Savvas Kyriakidis is a Post-doctoral Fellow in the Department of Greek and Latin Studies, Faculty of Humanities, University of Johannesburg. Anthony Luttrell, “Gugliemo de Tocco, Captain of Corfu,” Byzantine Modern Greek Studies 3 (1977), 45–56; Donald Nicol, The Despotate of Epiros 1267–1479. A Contribution to the History of Greece in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 138, 147, 157, 165–66, and 256 with a genealogical table. Hereafter cited as Nicol, Despotate. Maddalena Buondelmonti was the sister of the despot of Epiros, Esau. See also the genealogical table in Chroniques grécoromanes inédites ou peu connues, ed.Charles Hopf (Berlin, 1873), p. 530. For a narrative of the period 1375–1429 see Cronaca dei Tocco di Cefalonia, ed. G. Schirò, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 10 (Rome, 1975), pp. 7–100. Hereafter cited as Cronaca. Also Nicol, Despotate, pp. 139–94. Teresa Shawcross, The Chronicle of Morea. Historiography in Frankish Greece (Oxford, 2009), p. 233.

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The military operations undertaken by the armies of the duke of Cephalonia were conducted in Albania, Epiros, Akarnania and in the Peloponnese, the geography of which presents a very rugged and fragmented landscape dominated by mountains. Many of the clashes described by the Chronicle of the Toccos were fought in ravines, narrow passages and rough terrain.4 This geographical background made for tough campaigning conditions, and the limited resources of the warring states discouraged large-scale operations and the deployment of large armies. When the Chronicle of the Toccos notes the sizes of armies, the numbers are small. The text shows that many military operations were conducted by small groups of selected and experienced soldiers.5 For instance, three experienced Latin soldiers of the army of Carlo I led a surprise night-attack on the tower of Aetos, which was under the control of the Albanian clan of Mazarakis. In 1411, after the death of the despot of Ioannina, Esau Buondelmonti, Carlo Tocco entered the city leading 100 well-armed soldiers.6 In 1413, 60 soldiers under the command of Ercole Tocco (Carlo I’s bastard son) faced 400 Ottomans at the Ophidares river. In another example, the Albanian chieftain, Paul Spata, received a reinforcement of 300 soldiers from the Ottoman head of Thessaly in order to attack Vonitsa. In 1418, the mercenary captain from Apulia, Franco Oliverio, leading 100 well armed soldiers, captured the capital of the Latin Principality of Achaia, Clarentza. In 1421, during the conflict between the Toccos and the Byzantines in the Peloponnese, Ercole Tocco, leading 100 soldiers, raided Byzantine possessions together with the prince of Achaia, Centurione Zaccaria.7 The extreme political fragmentation and the inability to recruit large armies to control large territories increased the importance of static defenses. The defense of the territories controlled by the Toccos and their enemies relied on the possession of heavily fortified towns and fortresses which were scattered in strategic locations. Consequently, most of the military activity described by the author of the Chronicle of the Toccos revolved around fortifications, which were used to observe the enemy, to assemble for raids against enemy territories and to protect the population and soldiers in case of enemy raids. However, neither the Toccos nor their enemies possessed the necessary resources to undertake long and large-scale siege operations. Consequently, towers and fortresses were usually captured either by short sieges or by an assault without a previous siege. In 1402, the tower of Katoche was captured by the army of Carlo I after a two-day siege, and the sieges of Dragameston (1404/1405) and Anatolikon in 1406, which was under the control of Paul Spata, seem to have been even

4 5 6 7

Cronaca, vv. 749–59, 2320–2334, 2347, 2510. Ibid., vv. 225, 240, 810, 1258, 1732, 2324, 2478. Ibid., vv. 968–96, 1479. Ibid., vv. 2400, 737–43, 2767, 2800, 3553, 3872–3909. It would be interesting to know at what age Ercole Tocco took over military command. However, the exact year of his birth remains unknown.



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shorter.8 The Chronicle of the Toccos points to ambushes, surprise attacks and trickery as the main means of capturing fortified places. Very often these attacks were carried out by small groups of experienced and trustworthy soldiers. The troops sent by Carlo I to capture the fort of Dragamesto had orders to try to seize it by stealth. A group of selected soldiers entered the fortress by night using ladders and the garrison was caught by surprise. Carlo I Tocco used the same method to seize the fort of Varnakas. Shortly afterwards he attacked the fortress of Aetos. During the day selected soldiers scouted the walls, while the rest of the army was covered and unseen by the defenders. Eventually, Carlo I led a night attack using ladders and captured Aetos.9 The tower of Katoche was captured for a second time from the Albanians through treachery. A Frankish friend of Peter Spata, who was in the service of the duke of Cephalonia, visited the Albanian chieftain in Katoche. When Peter Spata left the tower to go hunting, the Frank and his followers contacted Carlo I Tocco, who was nearby, and captured the tower.10 Trickery was used for the capture of Riniasa (Thomokastron). Carlo I Tocco ambushed its defenders after enticing them to carry out a sortie.11 In 1416, the head of Vompliana, Michael Kapsokavades, and its kontostavlos [constable] Papadopoulos convinced the ruler of Arta, Yakub Spata, that Vompliana was not well defended and that there were people who were willing to surrender it to him. Yakub Spata’s troops were surrounded when they tried to enter Vompliana by night. Yakub himself was captured and killed.12 As far as the siege weapons used by the armies of the Toccos are concerned, the device most commonly employed in siege warfare was the ladder. Ladders could be constructed using materials close to the beleaguered area and their construction did not require advanced technological knowledge or the presence of specialized engineers. Unlike siege towers and artillery weapons, they did not take much time to prepare, and since they were constructed in situ they did not delay the march of the army. The importance of ladders in small-scale sieges, such as those described by the Chronicle of the Toccos, is confirmed by the Histories of the Byzantine emperor John VI Kantakouzenos (1347–54) which are the main source for the study of fourteenth-century warfare in Byzantium. Kantakouzenos’ description of the siege of Veroia (roughly eighty kilometers west of Thessalonica) in 1350 is similar to that provided by the Chronicle of the Toccos. When Kantakouzenos’ troops approached Veroia, he decided to capture the city by stealth. Kantakouzenos considered his army too small to conduct a prolonged siege against Veroia, which, as he writes, was defended by a force of 1,500 soldiers. In addition, its Serbian defenders had significantly reinforced its defenses by building new walls and towers and repairing old ones. Hoping to take the city by surprising its defenders, Kantakouzenos’ army carried out a 8 9 10 11 12

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

vv. vv. vv. vv. vv.

205–6, 282–96, 377–405. 282–96, 775–84, 968–96. 853–944. 2431–65. 2668–2864.

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night attack. The attackers used four ladders, which were hastily constructed by using ropes from the imperial tent.13 Apart from ladders the Chronicle of the Toccos mentions loumbardes (bombards). In 1406, in the siege of the tower of Anatolikon the army of the duke of Cephalonia used crossbows and loumbardes. In addition, the anonymous chronicler attributes to the captain of Carlo I, Matteo Ladolfo, the construction of an engine which was “able to pierce through the tower.” Its shots smashed the walls and the tower was captured.14 That it was constructed in situ suggests that this device was not a bombard. It may have been a trebuchet. After capturing Riniasa, Carlo I is said to have installed loumbardes as part of the defense system of its fortifications. In 1412, following the crushing defeat at the hands of the Albanians in Kranea, Carlo I reinforced the defense of his fortresses and added loumbardes in Hagia Maura in Leukas. In 1413, loumbardes were used in the sea battle that was fought off Clarentza between Leonardo Tocco and the prince of Achaia, Centurione Zaccaria. The firing of a loumbarda was used by the troops of Carlo I Tocco as a signal to attack Yakub Spata in Vompliana and to assault Vostitza.15 Neither the Chronicle of the Toccos nor any other source specifies how Carlo I was supplied with bombards. Nonetheless, since his nephew and successor, Carlo II Tocco (regnal years 1429–48) received cannons from Ragousa, it is safe to conclude that Carlo I received gunpowder artillery from Dalmatian cities.16 It should not be forgotten that knowledge of the new technology affected the Adriatic as early as the mid-fourteenth century, while Dubrovnik a few decades after 1350 became a center of production and exporter of gunpowder weapons.17 The Chronicle of the Toccos does not specify whether bombards were used by the enemies of the duke of Cephalonia. Instead, it reports that in 1403 Muriki Spata captured Katoche using a trebuchet (tetrabouchetto).18 Nevertheless, documentary evidence suggests that Albanian leaders possessed bombards which they used in order to reinforce the defense of their fortifications. It seems that in 1378 Gjin Spata had acquired bombards. In 1401 Venice sent to Corfu gunpowder to be used for the defense of its fortifications and in 1402 the Albanians of Argyrokastron received bombards from Corfu in order to reinforce the

13

14 15 16 17

18

Ioannes Cantacuzenis eximperatoris historiarum, ed. Ludwig Schopen, 3 vols., Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae 18–20 (Bonn, 1828–32), 3: 125. Hereafter cited as Kantakouzenos. For siege warfare in the Histories of John Kantakouzenos see Savvas Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium. 1204–1453, History of Warfare 67 (Leiden, 2011), pp. 178–86. Cronaca, vv. 391–95. Ibid., vv. 1855, 1878, 2777, 2817, 3774–75. Carlo II Tocco was the son of Carlo I’s brother, Leonardo. See Nicol, Despotate, p. 198. Djurdjica Petrović, “Firearms in the Balkans on the Eve and After the Ottoman Conquests of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries,” in War, Technology and Society in the Middle East, ed. V. J. Parry and M. E. Yap (London, 1975), pp. 170–82. Cronaca, v. 110.



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defenses of the city.19 However, the account in the Chronicle of the Toccos of the siege and capture of Argyrokastron by the Ottomans in 1418 makes no mention of the use of bombards.20 That the Albanian chieftains acquired gunpowder weapons does not mean that they knew how to use them effectively and it is not known whether they were able to employ experts in pyrotechnical matters. Nor did the ability to produce or buy artillery weapons coincide with the remodeling of fortifications in accordance with the demands of gunpowder warfare. Moreover, the absence of any elaborate description prevents us from reaching safe conclusions regarding the form and destructive effect of the loumbardes mentioned by the anonymous chronicler. Nonetheless, it is evident that their impact on military operations was rather limited. The nature of the military operations and sieges of the armies of the duke of Cephalonia and his enemies did not favor the extensive use of heavy siege equipment. Warfare in the south Balkans and Frankish Greece of the early fifteenth century was characterized by short and swift campaigns conducted by small armies and often success relied on the element of surprise. Furthermore, the descriptions of sieges which are found in the Chronicle of the Toccos are not much different from those provided by other contemporary sources. The Chronicle of Ioannina suggests that from 1380 until 1382 the Serbian despot of Ioannina, Thomas Preljubović, captured the fortresses which were located north of Ioannina after short sieges.21 Sphrantzes’ account of the siege of Patras, which was under the control of the Frankish principality of Achaia, by the Byzantines in 1429 makes no reference to siege engines and gunpowder. Instead, the Byzantines blockaded the city and destroyed the fields around it, while the defenders relied on the accuracy of their crossbowmen. Eventually, Patras surrendered to the Byzantines because its food supplies were exhausted.22 The Chronicle of the Toccos indicates that Carlo I Tocco avoided besieging and assaulting heavily fortified towns. His strategy was to capture smaller fortresses around them. These could be used as bases for raids, the aim of which was the pillaging of the countryside and the destruction of the economic basis of important towns. Deprived of access to their supplies, these cities would be demoral19

20 21

22

Eustratia Sygkelou, Ο Πόλεμος στον δυτικό Ελλαδικό χώρο κατά τον ύστερο μεσαίωνα (13ος– 15ος αι.) [War in Western Greece in the Late Middle Ages (13th–15th Centuries)], Μονογραφίες [Monographies] 8 (Athens, 2008), p. 280. Cronaca, vv. 3188–99. Leandros Vranouses, ed., “Το Χρονικόν των Ιωαννίνων κατ’ ανέκδοτον δημώδη επιτομήν” [The Chronicle of Ioannina in an unedited vernacular abbreviation], Epeteris Mesaionikou Archeiou 12 (1962), chs. 23, 25; Sygkelou, War in Western Greece, pp. 159–60. The Chronicle of Ioannina was written about 1440 and covers the period 1356–99. It focuses on what its author sees as the tyrannical rule and wickedness of the Serbian despot of Ioannina, Thomas (1367–85) who was the son of Gregory Preljub, the Serbian conqueror of Thessaly and prominent general of Stefan Dušan. It provides useful information about the wars between the Albanian clans and the Serbians. See Nicol, Despotate, 131. Cronaca. Giorgio Sfrantze, ed. Riccardo Maisano, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 29 (Rome, 1990), pp. 38–44, 58–60; Die Byzantinischen Kleinkroniken, ed. Peter Schreiner, 3 vols. Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 12 (Vienna, 1977), 1: 236.

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ized and starved. In 1401/02, the capture of the tower of Katoche enabled Carlo I to raid the surroundings of the important fortress of Angelokastron, which was under the control of the clan of Spatas.23 The possession of the fortress of Vompliana, which controlled the approach to Arta from the north, was vital for the capture of this city. The Chronicle of the Toccos reports that when the Albanian ruler of Arta was informed that the forces of the Toccos had captured Vompliana he exclaimed, “Without Vompliana I do not rule Arta!” The capture of this fortress enabled Carlo Tocco’s captain, Michael Kapsokavades, to lead destructive raids on the countryside of Arta.24 In 1406, the raids Carlo I Tocco carried out around Angelokastron forced Peter Spata to withdraw and surrender it to the Ottoman frontier lord Evrenos.25 It seems that the Albanian enemies of the Toccos followed similar tactics. To subdue Vonitsa, the Albanians plundered its harbor. Similarly in 1410, Muriki Spata, together with the despot of Ioannina, Esau Buondelmonti, destroyed the crops and burnt the villages around Vonitsa.26 Furthermore, the Chronicle of the Toccos gives the impression that the warfare between the Toccos and the Byzantines in the Peloponnese was dominated by raids. The author makes no reference to sieges or battles. To force the submission of Byzantine fortresses the army of the Toccos under the command of Matteo Ladolfo raided the countryside and captured booty and prisoners. The Chronicle of the Toccos relates that in response to these raids, the Byzantines assembled their army and decided to attack the forces of Carlo Tocco in Clarentza, which he had bought from the mercenary leader and adventurer Oliverio in 1421. Describing the preparations of the Byzantine army to attack Clarentza the anonymous chronicler summarizes the methods through which fortresses were captured. He states that the Byzantines were prepared to come to Clarentza to blockade it, to destroy the forts around it, to disrupt its grain supplies and devastate the entire area.27 Apart from destroying the economic basis of enemy possessions, raids aimed at the acquisition of booty that provided troops, such as those of the Toccos and their enemies, which were not supported by any sophisticated system of logistics, with essential supplies. Plunder must have covered much of the maintenance cost of soldiers and in the context of the continuous warfare between small political entities military leaders had to provide their troops with the opportunity to loot to secure their subsistence. In 1399, Carlo I Tocco’s captain Galasso Pecattoro led large-scale raids on Albanian possessions, which did not 23

24 25 26 27

Cronaca, vv. 179, 206. For the Spatas see Giuseppe Schirò, “La geneologia degli Spata tra il XIV e XV sec. e due Bua sconosciuti,” Rivista di Studi Bizantini e Neoellenici 28/29 (1971/1972), 67–85. Cronaca, vv. 2668–94. Cronaca, vv. 491–506. For the dating of the cession of Angelokastron to the Ottomans see Nicol, Despotate, p. 171. Cronaca, vv. 59–93, 745–48. Cronaca, vv. 3593–3636, 3671–3703, 3825–37, 3868–71. For the sale of Clarentza by Oliverio to Carlo Tocco see Dionysios Zakythinos, Despotat grec de Morée, 2 vols. (Paris, 1932/1953; repr. London, 1975), 1: 184; Antoine Bon, La Morée Franque (Paris, 1969), pp. 286–88.



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lead to the annexation of enemy territory. Nevertheless, Carlo I Tocco was satisfied with the large amount of booty that was captured.28 Moreover, the anonymous chronicler comments that Carlo I Tocco increased his strength by seizing much booty and many prisoners from the coastal areas of Western Greece and Albania.29 It is worth noting that fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Byzantine, Venetian and Ottomans sources emphasize the importance of booty in the military conflicts in the late medieval Balkans and indicate the establishment of laws and customs which regulated the distribution of spoils of war between soldiers and officers.30 However, the chronicle of the Toccos does not indicate the establishment of regulations and customs with regard to the sharing of the loot. Even if there were any, it would not have been an easy task to impose them. When Leonardo Tocco captured Clarentza (1407/08) on the pretext that the Latin prince of Achaia, Centurione Zaccaria, had repeatedly sent raiding parties to plunder Cephalonia, he prohibited his troops from looting its houses. However, the soldiers were attracted to the wealth of the city and ignored the orders of their leader. The Chronicle of the Toccos justifies this reaction, commenting that the soldiers had seized Carentza, “by their sword and by force” and concludes that “many became rich then and they are still rich today.”31 Similarly, in his account of the capture of Arta in 1417, the anonymous chronicler comments that Carlo I was unable to prevent his troops from looting the city.32 The Chronicle of the Toccos does not explain why Carlo I opposed the sacking of Arta and Clarentza. Nonetheless, it seems logical that he did not want to disrupt the economic life of these important cities. Prisoners composed a large part of the booty captured by the armies of Carlo I Tocco. They were an important source of income for the principality of the Toccos, and a useful diplomatic tool. According to a Venetian document dated in 1410, Leonardo Tocco sold Albanian prisoners to Catalan merchants. He had captured them during his raids on the possessions of the Albanian chieftain Muriki Spata.33 Many Ottomans who were captured by the Toccos after the unsuccessful raid of the Ottoman ruler of Thessaly, Yusuf beg, on Vonitsa were imprisoned in order to be ransomed. Shortly afterwards, Carlo Tocco reached a peace agreement with Yusuf beg and the Ottoman prisoners were released.34 28 29 30

31

32 33 34

Cronaca, vv. 155–73. Cronaca, vv. 476–81, 2868–90. Kantakouzenos, 1: 498; Pseudo-Kodinos. Traité des offices , ed. Jean Verpeaux (Paris, 1966), p. 251; Irène Beldiceanu-Steinherr, “En magre d’un acte concernant le penğyek et les aqinği,” Revue des études islamiques 38 (1968), 39–41. Cronaca, vv. 528–36, 641–70, 680–83. The fact that Centurione Zaccaria had been sending raiding parties across to Cephalonia is confirmed by Neapolitan and Venetian documents: Nicol, Despotate, p. 173. Cronaca, vv. 2875–2890. Acta Albaniae Veneta Seculorum XIV et XV, ed. Juseppe Valentini, 25 vols. (Palermo, 1967– 76), 6: 24. Cronaca, vv. 444–59, 466–75.

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In 1399, Galasso Peccatoro captured many Albanian prisoners. Carlo Tocco kept them as hostages in order to control the activities of the Albanian clans.35 Similarly, Carlo Tocco led a large-scale raid against the Albanians and captured a huge number of prisoners, including many women and children. This raid and the large number of the captured prisoners are justified by the Chronicle of the Toccos as a necessary action, the aim of which was to prevent the troops of the clan of Zenevezis from plundering the possessions of Carlo I.36 Prisoners could also increase the manpower of the principality of the duke of Cephalonia. When Carlo I seized Kandeles, he captured relatives of the Albanian chieftain Gjin Spata. These prisoners were allocated properties and received their incomes from Carlo Tocco.37 The Chronicle of the Toccos indicates that often booty and prisoners were captured by special troops which were in charge of raiding and plundering enemy territory, the koursatoroi and the rymparika. Emphasizing the effectiveness of the raids Carlo I conducted on the possessions of the Albanian chieftain Sguros Bua Spata, the Chronicle of the Toccos comments that the rymparika captured prisoners “in the manner of the Turks.” When in 1401 or 1402 Carlo I marched against the Albanians in Angelokastron, he ordered the koursatoroi to march ahead of the rest of the army and raid and scout the area around the fortress.38 The presence of troops who seem to have performed similar tasks to the koursatoroi and rymparika is attested in contemporary sources, which suggest that almost all the political entities involved in the warfare in the area maintained such units. Pseudo-Kodinos relates that the Byzantine kourseuonntes were troops that had neither rank-order nor standards. Instead, they were launched without order and the protostrator, who was their leader, should receive a portion of the various animals they would capture.39 The fourteenthcentury Chronicle of the Morea relates that the koursatoroi were a unit of the army of the Latin principality of the Achaia. Their task was to advance one day ahead of the rest of the army.40 Like the Western European harbingers, the koursatoroi and the rymparika provided the army with soldiers who could search for foraging opportunities.41 It is worth adding that, like the koursatoroı, the harbingers were supposed to operate a day’s march in front of the rest of the army.42 However, we do not know whether the koursatoroi of the Latin principalities which were established in Greece and Albania were in charge of finding a place to set up camp. In Western Europe this was the responsibility of the harbingers. In his description of the organization of military campaigns which 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Ibid., vv. 155–73. Ibid., vv. 1662–80. Ibid., vv. 820–21. Ibid., vv. 962–67, 227–30. Pseudo-Kodinos, p. 173. Chronicle of the Morea, ed. John Schmitt (London, 1903), vv. 3670, 6652. For the harbingers see Clifford Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives through History: The Middle Ages (Portsmouth, N.H., 2007), pp. 76–8. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 77.



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were supposed to be led either by the emperor or the megas domestikos (the commander-in-chief of the Byzantine army after the emperor), Pseudo-Kodinos relates that the Byzantine kourseuontes were not involved in the process of finding a location to set up camp. This was the task of a high-ranking officer, the epi tou stratou and not of specialized soldiers.43 Moreover, the asapi, who are mentioned in a Venetian document of 1429 as a loyal group of soldiers, seem to have been similar to the koursatoroi and the kourseuontes. According to this document, the asapi Andrea and Theodore Olbofaci from Thessalonica, which was under Venetian control from 1423 until its capture by the Ottomans in 1430, appealed to the Venetian Senate to complain about the extra charges imposed on them in addition to the pendamerea, which was the only tax they were obliged to pay.44 Like the Byzantine pentamoiria and the Ottoman pençik, the pendamerea was a tax of one-fifth of the booty captured in military operations and it was imposed on every type of soldier who fought for these political entities.45 One of these asapi is called “the protostrator.” Consequently, it is possible that he was the head of the asapi raiders. It is also likely that the Venetian asapi were similar to the Ottoman azabs, who were irregular infantrymen recruited ad hoc for the expeditions of the Ottoman army.46 The most successful raiders who were active in the Balkans were the Ottoman akıncı. Chalkokondyles calls them hippodromoi (fast horsemen) and remarks that they were maintained exclusively through the booty they captured. Together with their leaders, these Ottoman raiders spearheaded the Ottoman expansion in the Balkans and created the infrastructure that ensured the permanent nature of the Ottoman conquest.47 The success and impact of the Ottoman raiders is reflected in the aforementioned statement of the Chronicle of the Toccos that the raiders of Carlo I captured prisoners in the manner of the Turks. The accounts of pitched battles that are found in the Chronicle of the Toccos are summary and vague. Moreover, descriptions of battles are used as a means to exalt the heroic achievements of Carlo I and his relatives on the battlefield. For instance, describing an encounter between the forces of Carlo I and the army of Paul Spata in 1402, the anonymous chronicler relates how his hero sustained the blows inflicted on him by nine lances. His horse was killed after it was repeatedly hit by the lances of the Albanians. However, brandishing his sword and fighting against many enemies, he managed to cut through the lines 43 44 45 46 47

Pseudo-Kodinos, pp. 248–49. Régestes des délibérations du Sénat de Venise concernant la Romanie, ed. Freddy Thiriet, 3 vols. (Paris, 1958–61), 2: 258–59. For the Byzantine pentamoiria see Savvas Kyriakidis, “The Division of Booty in Late Byzantium, 1204–1453,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 59 (2009), 167–69. Colin Imber, The Ottoman Empire 1300–1600. The Structure of Power (London, 2002), pp. 259–60. Laonicae Chalcocandylae Historiarum Demonstrationes, ed. Eugenius Darkó, 2 vols. (Budapest, 1922), 1: 93; Heath Lowry, The Shaping of the Ottoman Balkans 1350–1550. The Conquest, Settlement and Infrastructural Development of Northern Greece (Istanbul, 2008), p. 10.

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of the enemy and save his life.48 The account of the battle between Leonardo Tocco and the Albanians in Koprina focuses on the bravery of Leonardo. He is portrayed as standing on the saddle of his Calabrian horse “like a sun” and, as the anonymous author remarks, he looked like a tower among his troops. Although the anonymous author gives a lengthy description of the bravery of Leonardo Tocco and comments that both armies were composed of well armed soldiers, his description of the battle is summary. He remarks that the troops of Leonardo Tocco approached Arta and clashed with those they found outside the city. During the battle there was a lot of confusion and noise and many soldiers were killed since they received many blows from the lances of their enemies.49 The Chronicle of the Toccos gives a summary description of the battle of Kranea where in 1412 the forces of Leonardo Tocco were defeated at the hands of the Albanians. According to the anonymous writer, the army of Leonardo Tocco was divided into three ranks and that of the Zenevesis into seven. When the front ranks of the two armies clashed, most of the Albanian soldiers were wounded and retreated. However, being vastly outnumbered the Franks could not advance further. Using their swords they wounded many Albanian soldiers, but they were ultimately defeated.50 The preceding discussion shows that warfare between the Toccos and their enemies was dominated by small armies, short sieges, ambushes, stratagems and raids, the aim of which was the capture of booty and destruction of the economic basis of enemy possessions. Large-scale campaigns, sieges and battles which would result in the loss of valuable resources and manpower were avoided. Rather little is known about the composition and identity of the armies that participated in these operations. Nonetheless, the Chronicle of the Toccos reflects the dominant role of mercenary soldiers in the military operations of the duke of Cephalonia. Describing the preparations of Carlo I for his campaigns, against the Albanians the anonymous chronicle remarks that the duke “started employing soldiers from everywhere, Franks, Romans, Serbians and mostly Albanians.” He uses the same phrase to describe the composition of the army that captured Katoche, while Ioannina and Vlachia (Thessaly) are identified as sources for the recruitment of mercenaries who must have been Byzantine Greeks and Albanians. The army that sacked Clarentza in 1407 was composed of Greeks and Albanians, while Greek and Frankish mercenaries captured Aetos and Latin and Albanian mercenaries defeated Sguros Bua in Vromopida.51 In 1421, Albanian soldiers were sent to the Peloponnese to reinforce Carlo Tocco’s possessions for the imminent war with the Byzantines.52 Carlo I possessed the financial resources to hire substantial numbers of mercenaries. He was married

48 49 50 51 52

Cronaca, vv. 238–60. Ibid., vv. 238–60, 340–69. Ibid., vv. 1737–66. Ibid., vv. 134–37, 201–2, 826, 985, 1071. Ibid., vv. 3657–60.



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to the second daughter of the duke of Athens, Nerio Acciaiuoli, Francesca.53 The Acciaiuolis, who ruled the duchy of Athens from 1385 until 1460, were a wealthy family of Florentine bankers and it is certain that this connection enabled Carlo I to pay high salaries and attract mercenary soldiers. The Acciaiuolis of Athens relied heavily on mercenaries and it should not be forgotten that, apart from being wealthy, they had witnessed the successful system of the employment of large groups of mercenaries by Florence.54 The extensive employment of mercenaries by the Toccos reflects the need to employ soldiers who could be constantly under arms in a period of endemic warfare. The need to man the garrisons of fortifications is another factor that prompted the recruitment of mercenaries. In his descriptions of the organization of the defense of fortifications the anonymous author of the Chronicle of the Toccos remarks that the garrisons were manned by crossbowmen. In addition, crossbowmen seem to have played a significant role in offensive operations of the Toccos, such as the capture of Clarentza.55 Although the origins of these soldiers are not identified, they must have been mercenaries. This is indicated by contemporary Venetian documents which show that the garrisons of Venetian possessions were composed of soldiers who belonged to companies of mercenaries.56 It seems that Carlo I did not experience any problem with the loyalty of his mercenaries and his principality remained unaffected by the depredations of large groups of mercenaries like the companies of Navarrese and Gascon soldiers who dominated warfare in Frankish Greece and Albania in the 1370s and 1380s. They were hired by the Hospitallers, who had received the principality of Achaia from Joanna of Naples, the Angevin claimant to the throne of the kingdom of Albania whose husband, Louis of Evreux, count of Beaumontle-Roger, had employed the Navarrese companies of soldiers to assist them in their war against the Albanians.57 The army of Nerio Acciaiuioli, which in 1379 captured Thebes and Megara from the Catalan duchy of Athens, included Navarrese mercenaries.58 Shortly afterwards the Navarrese were hired by Jacques of Baux, who was a claimant to the principality of Achaia. When he 53 54

55 56

57

58

Nicol, Despotate, p. 167. Daniel Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Century,” in Florentine Studies. Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. Nicolai Rubinstein (London, 1968), pp. 70–108; William Caferro, Mercenary Companies and the Decline of Siena (Baltimore, 1998), pp. 173–79. Cronaca, vv. 133, 315, 399, 596, 633, 1509, 2497, 3666. Délibérations des assemblées vénitiennes concernant la Romanie, ed. Freddy Thiriet, 2 vols. (Paris, 1966–71), 1: 69, 2: 14, 100; idem, Régestes 1: 63, 94, 176, 2:29, 105, 220; M. E. Mallett and J. R. Hale, The Military Organization of a Renaissance State. Venice 1400–1617 (Cambridge, 1984), pp.74–6; Sygkelou, War in Western Greece, pp. 121–23. Raymond Loenertz, “Hospitaliers et Navarrais en Grèce 1376–1383. Régestes et documents,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 22 (1956), 331–32; George Dennis, “The Capture of Thebes by the Navarrese (6 March 1378 ) and other Chronological Notes,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 26 (1960), 45. Diplomatari de l’Orient Català (1301–1409), ed. Antonio Rubió y Lluch (1947, repr. Barcelona,

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died in 1383 they claimed the principality for themselves.59 In the 1410s the prince of Achaia, Centurione Zaccaria, employed the company of Oliverio from Apulia. According to the Chronicle of the Toccos, the company was made up of one hundred well armed soldiers. However, as the anonymous author writes, Oliverio was a brigand, a looter and a bloodthirsty murderer. He raided the possessions of the Latin prince of Achaia and the territories of the Byzantine despot of the Morea. His activities inflicted significant damage on the local economy. He captured Clarentza and imprisoned many local aristocrats in order to receive high ransoms.60 It seems that most of the mercenary soldiers of the duke of Cephalonia were Albanians. It is most probable that many of them were supplied by chieftains such as Sguro and Dimo Bua, who were Carlo I’s allies. The Chronicle of the Toccos calls Sguro Bua a daring soldier and great general who fought gallantly in many battles against the Turks.61 They must have been particularly useful, since they possessed valuable local knowledge and were familiar with the battlefield tactics and customs of the Albanian enemies of the Toccos. Furthermore, in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there was a significant demand for Albanian soldiers. In 1385, the ruler of Athens, Nerio Acciaiuoli, recruited eight hundred Albanian cavalrymen to be used in the war against the Navarese company of mercenaries.62 Albanians made up a substantial part of the Byzantine army in the Peloponnese. In the funeral oration for his brother, Theodore I Palaiologos, the despot of the Morea (1383–1407), the Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos (1391–1425), referring to the Albanian migration to the Peloponnese in 1394–95, relates that around ten thousand Albanians left their lands and together with their children, women, property and cattle occupied the Isthmus, pitching their tents there. Manuel II adds that to have the Albanians together with the forces of the Peloponnese, which were not small, was of the greatest assistance and remarks that their role was to reinforce the defense of the Morea and to help the despots to impose their authority over the local lords. Their presence is attested in the defenses of the walls of Hexamilion in the Isthmus of Corinth and in 1395 in the victory of Demetrios Raoul against the Navarrese.63 Moreover, Albanians who in 1398 repopulated Argos after its destruction by the Ottomans enlisted in the Venetian army and many Albanians who survived

59

60 61 62 63

2001), pp. 537–38; Monumenta Peloponnesiaka, ed. Julian Chrysostomides (London, 1995), p. 33. Kenneth Setton, Catalan Domination of Athens. 1311–1388 (Cambridge, 1948), pp. 125–48; Bon, La Morée franque, pp. 254–61; Anthony Luttrell, “Appunti sulle compagnie navarresi in Grecia,” Rivista di studi bizantini e slavi 3 (1983), 113–27. Cronaca, vv. 3545–91. Dimo Bua was later appointed by Carlo Tocco head of Angelokastro and Katoche: Cronaca, vv. 351–57, 833–40, 2285–89. D. K. Giannakopoulos, Δουκάτο των Αθηνών. Η κυριαρχία των Acciaiuioli [The Duchy of Athens. The Domination of the Acciaiuioli] (Thessalonica, 2006), p. 188. Manuel II Palaeologus. Funeral Oration on his Brother Theodore, ed. Julian Chrysostomides (Thessalonica, 1985), pp. 119–25; Kleinchroniken, 1: 245; Sphrantzes, p. 22.



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the capture of Argyrokraston by the Ottomans in 1418 were recruited as mercenaries by the Byzantines in the Morea.64 It is also worth noting that by the mid fifteenth century Albanian light cavalry mercenaries were recruited by Venice and used in the warfare against the Ottomans in the 1460s in the Peloponnese.65 Other groups of soldiers or officers who are mentioned by the Chronicle of the Toccos are the archontes and archontopoula who must have been persons of high social status and of significant influence. In his description of a raid carried out by the forces of Carlo I Tocco on the surroundings of Arta, the anonymous chronicler specifies that archontopoula were warriors of a young age.66 However, it is impossible on the basis of the limited available evidence to establish whether they formed a distinct formation on the battlefield, or they were wealthy individuals who accompanied their leader on his campaigns. Archontopouloi are mentioned in the works of fourteenth-century Byzantine authors. However, they do not appear as a distinct military group. In his account of the coronation of Andronikos III Palaiologos (1328–41), John Kantakouzenos reports the presence of one hundred well-born youth, well armed and unarmed. According to the treatise of Pseudo-Kodinos, which was a work on court hierarchy and ceremonies, archontopouloi who were related to the emperor participated in court ceremonies and took part in the acclamation of the emperor.67 Similarly, nothing is known about the lizioi of Carlo I, who in 1413 were ordered to assemble in Cephalonia and campaign under Leonardo Tocco on Clarentza.68 It is probable that these lizioi were individuals who had the obligation to accompany Carlo I on his campaigns. Most of the commanders of the army of the Toccos, whom the chronicle calls kapetanioi (captains), were Italians. Some of them served Carlo I for a long period of time and could serve as heads of important cities and fortifications. In 1406, Matteo Landolfo from Naples was the head of the army that captured Anatolikon, and became head of Varnakas. He seems to have taken charge of Arta after the death of Leonardo Tocco (1418/19). In 1422 he led military operations against the Byzantines in the Morea.69 In 1399, Galasso Pecatoro, who was probably from Apulia, was in charge of the army that raided Albanian possessions. Shortly afterwards he was the head of the army which ambushed the Albanian chieftain Sguros Bua.70 Mano Miliaresi from Sicily became head of Varnakas and Kandeles and led raids against the Ottomans and the Albani-

64 65 66 67

68 69 70

Chrysostomides, Monumenta, p. 200; Cronaca, vv. 3292–3303; Nicol, Despotate, p. 189. See Mallett and Hale, Venice, pp. 119, 196. Cronaca, vv. 596, 826, 2320, 2539. Kantakouzenos, 1: 200; Pseudo-Kodinos, pp. 202, 212; Mark Bartusis, The Late Byzantine Army. Arms and Society. 1204–1453 (Philadelphia, 1992), p. 206; Nikolas Oikonomides, “À propos des armées des premières Paléologues et des compagnies de soldats,” Travaux et Mémoires 8 (1981), 355. He suggests that the archontopouloi were a military unit. Cronaca, v. 1866. Ibid., vv. 3685–89, 3827, 3878. Ibid., vv. 161–65, 1055–77.

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ans.71 In 1412, Jacomo Scrofa was one of the captains of the army which was defeated by the Albanians in Kranea.72 The Chronicle of the Toccos mentions two commanders from Florence; Matteo Libardi and Lotto, who was put in charge of Riniasa.73 Another Italian, Giovanni Pressa, became head of Vonitsa.74 When these generals were appointed as heads of fortresses their function was primarily a military one. Their task was to repair the fortifications and walls of the fort they were assigned to govern and to harass the enemy. Lotto reinforced the defenses of Riniasa and hired new guards, while Mano Miliaresi’s role as head of Varnakas and Kandeles was to plunder the surroundings of the fortress of Aetos.75 It is likely that these Italian captains were leaders of companies of soldiers which were attracted to the endemic warfare in the area. Apart from these captains, the anonymous chronicle reports the presence of constables (kontostavloi) and castellans (kastellanoi) without, however, specifying their duties.76 It seems likely that the functions performed by the kontostavloi were identical or similar to the ones performed by the conestabuli who were in charge of the small companies of mercenaries that made up the garrisons of Venetian fortifications in the Aegean. The duties of the kastellanoi were presumably similar to those of the Byzantine kastrophylakes (castle guards). The late Byzantine kastrophylax was a local official who was the local governor’s assistant in maintaining the defense of a town or a fortress. He was in charge of maintaining the walls and organizing the guard service and sentinel duty.77 In conclusion, vivid descriptions of short sieges, surprise assaults on towers, ambushes, and clashes between small armies that were largely mercenary in character dominate the chronicle of the family of the Toccos. These reflect the nature of warfare in a period of intense political fragmentation and ceaseless military conflicts between small principalities which were established in the second half of the fourteenth century in territories that had belonged to the Byzantine and Serbian empires. These small principalities lacked an elaborate administrative infrastructure and their survival relied on the wealth and personality of their rulers, in particular on their ability to impose their authority over local magnates and recruit effective military forces to defend their lands. Carlo I was the ruler of one of these principalities. He exploited the extreme political fragmentation and the lack of unity among his enemies to expand his dominions. He owed his military victories to his ability to maintain an effective mercenary army and to adapt his battlefield tactics and military strategy to the demands of

71 72 73 74 75 76 77

Ibid., vv. 948–61. Ibid., vv. 1750–66. Ibid., vv. 1210, 1492, 2501. Ibid., vv. 2280–84. Ibid., vv. 948–61, 2501. Ibid., vv. 2708, 207, 315, 399, 803. For the duties of the kastrophylax in late Byzantium see Bartusis, The Late Byzantine Army, pp. 313–14; idem, “Urban Guard Service in Late Byzantium: The Terminology and the Institution,” Macedonian Studies 2 (1988), 183–205.



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the geographical setting of the area. However, as was the case with almost all the small states that were established in the wake of the collapse of the Serbian and Byzantine empires and on the eve of the Ottoman conquest, his conquests were lost shortly after his death.78

78

See Nicol, Despotate, pp. 198–203.

9 Sir John Radcliffe, K.G. (d. 1441): Miles Famossissimus A. Compton Reeves

Sir John Radcliffe of Attleborough, Norfolk, had an admirable career as a soldier and administrator in the service of the Lancastrian kings of England. His assignments took him into all the dominions of the crown: Ireland, Wales, Normandy, and Gascony. While Sir John’s life is of considerable interest in its own right, his career both exemplifies as well as personalizes the English military experience of his lifetime. Sir John came from a landed family with Lancashire roots. He was the second son of James Radcliffe (d. 1410) and his wife Joan, daughter of Sir John Tempest of Bracewell, Yorkshire. Nothing has come to light on the early years of Sir John, but his career suggests that he was given a firm grounding in military, financial, and administrative matters. The first sure record of John Radcliffe is in a military context helping his king consolidate his hold upon the throne. Many years after the event, in 1429, it was noted that while an esquire (probably in the service of his father, James), John had participated in the battle of Shrewsbury on 21 July 1403.1 In that battle the first king of the Lancastrian dynasty, Henry IV, defeated a rebel force led by Henry Percy, known as Hotspur, the son of Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland. Six days after the battle, James Radcliffe was one of the men commissioned to gather forces from Lancashire and bring them to the king at Pontefract in Yorkshire.2 The purpose of this mustering of troops was to pursue the earl of Northumberland, who soon did submit himself to the king at York. It is not implausible that John Radcliffe was in his father’s company during this time, and that both gained the approving attention of the king. Indeed, less than a month after Shrewsbury, James was noted as a king’s esquire and was given a license to enclose the manor he held from the king at Radcliffe, Lancashire, with stone walls and to erect therein a fortalice with crenellated walls, a hall, and two towers of stone construction.3 The license to crenellate as well as the construction work would serve to mark the status of James as a king’s esquire. 1 2 3

Elias Ashmole, The Institution, Laws and Ceremonies of the Most Noble Order of the Garter (London, 1672), p. 270. Calendar of Patent Rolls. Henry IV, vol. 2 (1401–1405) (London, 1905), p. 292. Hereafter cited as CPR. CPR (1401–1405), p. 255.

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It is appropriate to consider that James Radcliffe had a potential advocate in the king’s immediate circle of counselors. Thomas Langley, who was bishop of Durham from 1406 until his death in 1437, was a protégé of James Radcliffe. Langley had moved from Radcliffe’s service to that of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster. When Gaunt’s son usurped his cousin’s throne to become King Henry IV, Langley became, first, the king’s secretary, and then, in 1401, keeper of Henry IV’s privy seal.4 In 1405 Langley began a term as chancellor of England. Being well known by one of the king’s most able administrators could only have been helpful to Radcliffe family fortunes. Less than a year after the battle of Shrewsbury, in May 1404, John Radcliffe received from the king a life grant of the office of second baron of the exchequer of Ireland.5 He must have departed shortly for Ireland because in August the king appointed him to a commission to deal with actions in Dublin of an ecclesiastical nature prejudicial to the Crown.6 Richard II’s military expedition to Ireland in 1399, with the objective of increasing English royal authority in Ireland, had been cut short by Henry of Bolingbroke’s invasion of England. Following Henry’s usurpation of Richard’s throne, the new king did not have the resources to continue a forceful Irish policy, and under Henry IV those in Ireland loyal to England were essentially left to their own resources to defend their Irish interests.7 John Radcliffe found himself participating in this holding action, and it may have been at this time a career in Irish administration, appropriate for the second son of a gentry family, toward which he was being directed. Henry IV’s second son, Thomas (later to become duke of Clarence), had been appointed the king’s lieutenant in Ireland in 1401, but he had so little impact that he returned in frustration to England late in 1403.8 John Radcliffe was back from Ireland in 1405, and was in military service in Wales to suppress the rebellion inspired by Owain Glyn Dŵr. In May 1405 Radcliffe participated in a military victory near Usk against the supporters of Glyn Dŵr that resulted in the capture of Owain’s son and the augmentation of Radcliffe’s military reputation.9 It was not long, however, before Radcliffe returned to Ireland. There was, it should be noted, a link between Ireland and Wales in the thinking of the English governing circles at this time, through the worry that Irish support would be given to Glyn Dŵr in Wales. In March 1406 Thomas of Lancaster again contracted with his father to serve as king’s lieutenant in Ireland, although he did not turn up in Dublin 4

5 6 7 8 9

C. M. Fraser, “Thomas Langley,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 60 vols. (Oxford, 2004), 32: 500; R. L. Storey, Thomas Langley and the Bishopric of Durham, 1406–1437 (London, 1961), pp. 2–4. CPR (1401–1405), p. 393. Ibid., p. 436. Art Cosgrove, “England and Ireland, 1399–1447,” in A New History of Ireland, II, Medieval Ireland, 1169–1534, ed. Art Cosgrove (Oxford, 1987), p. 526. G. L. Harriss, “Thomas, Duke of Clarence,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 54: 284. Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 270; R. R. Davies, The Revolt of Owain Glyn Dŵr (Oxford, 1997), p. 119.



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until August 1408. Meanwhile, in April 1406, Thomas, as lieutenant, granted jointly to the esquires John Radcliffe and John Fastolf the office of chief butler of Ireland, to hold from 1 January 1406 for the duration of the minority of the earl of Ormonde.10 In the following autumn, Radcliffe was designated to act for a year as attorney in Ireland for an esquire in England.11 It would appear that Radcliffe’s record in royal service developed satisfactorily because on 13 February 1408 Henry IV granted Radcliffe an annuity of £10 to be drawn from the fee farm of the Irish city of Waterford, and Radcliffe continued to draw the £10 a year for over three decades before he surrendered it and it was granted in 1440 to another royal servant.12 Radcliffe continued in Irish service, and at the beginning of 1412 was again appointed to act for a year as an attorney in Ireland for an individual in England.13 Association with the king’s son Thomas was assuredly helpful to Radcliffe’s career. The activities of John Radcliffe become somewhat elusive at this stage in his career, exacerbated by there being more than one John Radcliffe on the scene. There was a kinsman Sir John Radcliffe (d. 1422) of Ordsall, Lancashire, who had a son who was also called John (d. 1442).14 The elder of these kinsmen was a warrior who, like our subject, fought at Agincourt in 1415, but who, unlike our subject, had also been called to serve in Henry IV’s Scottish campaign of 1400.15 One of these men – and it was likely our John Radcliffe, because of his links to Thomas of Lancaster (now Thomas, duke of Clarence) – was part of the expeditionary force led by Clarence that went to France in 1412 to assist the duke of Orléans in his struggle against the duke of Burgundy. In 1413 a John Radcliffe, probably again our subject, was commissioned to engage in ransom negotiations between French prisoners and their English captors,16 and in 1414 a French prisoner of a John Radcliffe obtained a safe conduct to come to England to pay his ransom.17 Service in France with Clarence was not mentioned in the letter recommending John Radcliffe for membership in the Order of the Garter, but such mercenary soldiering might quietly have been ignored at a time when Burgundy was an English ally. The date recorded for our subject’s first marriage is 1411.18 The bride was Cecily, one of the three daughters and co-heiresses of Sir Thomas Mortimer 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

17 18

J. H. Wylie, History of England under Henry the Fourth, 4 vols. (London, 1884–98), 3: 168, n. 8. CPR (1405–1408), p. 216. CPR (1405–1408), pp. 115, 411; CPR (1436–1441), p. 366. CPR (1408–1413), p. 361. Victoria County History: Lancashire, 4: 211; 5: 46, n. 78. There was also a John Radcliffe of Chadderton in Prestwich, Lancashire: CPR (1396–1399), p. 324. Wylie, Henry the Fourth, 4: 251. Foedera, conventions, letterae et cujuscunque generic acta publica inter reges Angliae et alios …, ed. Thomas Rymer, 17 vols. (London, 1704–17), 9: 50; The Forty-fourth Annual Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 1883), p. 548. Hereafter cited as DKR XLIV. Rymer, Foedera, 9: 172. Charles P. Hampson, The Book of the Radclyffes (Edinburgh, 1940), pp. 36, 38.

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of Attleborough and his wife Mary Parke (half-sister of the famed Sir John Fastolf, with whom Radcliffe had a connection through service in Ireland and with whom he established a lasting friendship). Cecily was the widow of Sir John Herling of East Herling, Norfolk, and the mother of Sir Hugh Herling. The marriage put Radcliffe in possession of extensive estates in Norfolk, which became the center of his landed interests. Cecily lived until 1423,19 but the marriage was shortly to be subordinated to Radcliffe’s military life, for in 1413 a warrior king succeeded to the throne in the person of Henry V. The martial enterprises of the new king would provide John Radcliffe with opportunities truly to distinguish himself, and soon after his accession the new king retained Radcliffe’s services with life annuities worth more than £43.20 The situation in France was temptation itself for Henry V. The French king, Charles VI, was mentally unstable, and the rivals for control of the king and government, the dukes of Orléans and Burgundy, were at one another’s throats. Moreover, the king of Scotland, a potential ally of France, was in English captivity. King Henry put forth immense and skillful effort as he gathered the men, horses, ships, equipment, and cash required for an invasion and conquest of Normandy.21 A mighty army that included John Radcliffe mustered at Southampton and Portsmouth, and the king gave the signal to sail on 11 August 1415. Radcliffe led a contingent of six men-at-arms and eighteen archers.22 On disembarking three days later at the Chef-de-Caux in upper Normandy, the order of knighthood was bestowed upon him.23 A few miles away from the bay of SainteAdresse where the English fleet dropped anchor lay the port of Harfleur, the first target for capture. Harfleur, at the mouth of the Seine, was a difficult and well defended objective. It required several days for the English army to establish a ring around the town, and the siege continued until Harfleur surrendered on 22 September. Sir John Radcliffe and his retinue entered Harfleur the day of its surrender in the company of Thomas Beaufort, earl of Dorset.24 Radcliffe had survived the fighting and endured the siege in late-summer weather that fostered disease and fever, resulting in death or disability among the besiegers, many of whom had to be invalided back to England. A victory had been won at great cost, but King Henry was not ready to call the campaigning season finished. Against the counsel of some of his advisors, Henry announced that the defeated soldiers who surrendered to him at 19 20 21

22 23 24

The Register of Henry Chichele, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1414–1443, ed. E. F. Jacob, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1938–47), 2: 275. L. S. Woodger, “Sir John Radcliffe,” in The House of Commons, 1386–1421, ed. J. S. Roskell, L. Clark, and C. Rawcliffe, 4 vols. (Stroud, 1993), 4: 156. These matters are nicely summarized in Juliet Barker, Agincourt: The King, The Campaign, The Battle (London, 2005), pp. 103–49. The historical literature on the Agincourt campaign is vast. Woodger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 156. Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 270. J. H. Wylie, The Reign of Henry the Fifth, 3 vols. (Volume 3 with W. T. Waugh) (Cambridge, 1914–29), 2: 55, n. 4.



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Harfleur were to be given leave to secure resources to pay their ransoms and were to present themselves to him at Calais with cash in hand by Martinmas (11 November). A substantial English garrison of 300 men-at-arms and 900 archers was left at Harfleur as Henry and his depleted army began a long and difficult march through hostile territory toward Calais.25 Sir John Radcliffe was part of the adventure, although he had not yet reached sufficient fame for his place in the action to be recorded other than that he was in the retinue of King Henry V.26 Because of difficulties of water crossings and the appearance of a shadowing French force, the English army was unable to take a direct route to Calais. The army arrived before Arques on 11 October where, after slight resistance, they crossed the Béthune and received a supply of bread and wine from the inhabitants as the price for avoiding burning and looting. The next day the army reached the River Bresle just east of Eu, and had an experience like that at Arques: the threat of destruction brought permission to pass and a stock of bread and wine. The next water obstacle was the River Somme where the king expected to cross at the Blanchetaque ford. However, the ford was defended by a substantial French force compelling the English to turn east to seek another way of crossing the Somme further upstream. As the army moved more deeply into French territory, a French army of substantial proportions was moving along the opposite bank of the Somme, determined to prevent an English crossing. The crossing was finally managed with the discovery of a ford at each of the villages of Béthencourt-sur-Somme and Voyennes, which lay some two miles apart. By nightfall of 19 October the English army was across the Somme.27 By marching across country rather than following a loop in the Somme the English army had managed to elude the pursuing French and make a bold and dangerous crossing of the river. The threat loomed of a French army considerably larger than that commanded by Henry V, but several more days of marching toward Calais would occupy the English before a battle was joined. On Thursday 24 October the two armies came within sight of one another, and King Henry was able to deploy his army in a defensive position between the villages of Tramecourt and Agincourt. Henry needed to get his tired army on to Calais, only two days distant. The French, though, blocked the way and could have stood their ground waiting for the smaller English army, seemingly trapped in enemy territory, either to surrender or attempt to fight its way through. The French, however, chose to attack the defensive position of the English on Friday morning, the feast day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian. It was a fateful error, for the attack was not well planned or capably led. The result was one of the most famous of English military victories. Just where Sir John Radcliffe was at the battle of Agincourt is unknown, but as a member of the king’s personal

25 26 27

The story of the march to Calais is skillfully narrated in Barker, Agincourt, chapter 12. Nicholas Harris Nicolas, History of the Battle of Agincourt (London, 1832), p. 383. The Battle of Agincourt: Sources and Interpretations, ed. Anne Curry, ed. (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 33–4.

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retinue he was likely in the vicinity of the king in the center of the English line as it received the French attack. The English army, tired but exhilarated with victory and the spoils of battle, remained for the night in proximity to the field of battle. The next day the march to Calais was resumed, with arrival there on 29 October. The king may well have considered extending the campaign in the aftermath of Agincourt and the appearance of the Harfleur prisoners with their ransoms at Calais, but it was decided that enough had been accomplished with the resources available.28 The crossing to England began on 16 November. Agincourt made Henry V and his comrades-in-arms military heroes, and the triumph seemed also to demonstrate divine approval of the English cause. If Sir John Radcliffe was in the company of the king, he would have experienced a truly grand reception in London on 23 November. A foothold had been gained with the capture of the port city of Harfleur and a monumental victory had been won at Agincourt, but the kingdom of France had in no way been subjugated. In fact, French attention quickly turned to the project of recovering Harfleur, and King Henry had to focus on holding the town. Radcliffe may not have returned to England with the king, for he was soon involved in the defense of Harfleur. Early in March 1416 Bernard, count d’Armagnac and constable of France, was able to turn his attention to Harfleur, where the garrison was under the command of Thomas Beaufort, earl of Dorset. On 9 March, Dorset led a mounted raid out of Harfleur, moving northeast toward Rouen, and Sir John Radcliffe was part of the operation.29 Meanwhile, Armagnac was leading a substantial French force from Rouen in the direction of Harfleur. The English raid made a circuit of the Pays de Caux that carried them to the small town of Cany, which they burned, and then Dorset began leading his men back toward Harfleur. Armagnac, however, had with speed and effort managed to place his force between the English and Harfleur. Armagnac’s intention was apparently to inflict some damage on the English, strip them of their booty, and deny them access to forage in the countryside. Dorset’s raiders were surprised by the French near Valmont, and battle was joined on 11 March. The English took a defensive position, as they had at Agincourt, and withstood a series of cavalry charges from what is believed to have been a French force of superior number. Breaches were made in the English line, and some horses and baggage fell into French hands, but Dorset, though wounded, reformed his defenses and continued to hold. Toward the end of the day, parties representing both sides joined in negotiations that lasted until nightfall, when the French withdrew into Valmont for food and rest. Under cover of darkness the English 28

29

Anne Curry, “After Agincourt, What Next? Henry V and the Campaign of 1416,” in The Fifteenth Century, VII: Conflicts, Consequences and the Crown in the Late Middle Ages, ed. Linda Clark (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 25–30. For this raid, see Alfred H. Burne, The Agincourt War (London, 1956), pp. 99–104, 110–13; Richard Ager Newhall, The English Conquest of Normandy, 1416–1424 (New Haven, CT, 1924), pp. 18–20; Wylie, Henry the Fifth, 2: 333–37.



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escaped from the vicinity of Valmont, eluded the French who came looking for them when it was daylight, and hastened on the twenty-and-more-mile return to Harfleur. Shortly before they reached Harfleur, a pursuing party of French, led by Louis de Loigny, one of the Marshals of France, caught up with the marching English. The French attack was disorderly, and not swift enough to prevent the English from preparing themselves to fight. The French were routed, more booty was gained by stripping the French dead, and safety in Harfleur was gained. The battle of Valmont and its almost calamitous aftermath came near to being a disaster for the English, and it was the only pitched battle the English fought between Agincourt and the death of Henry V. It was a battle remembered most favorably in English military circles, and was a part of Radcliffe’s career that was considered an episode worth noting when Radcliffe was recommended to the fellowship of the Order of the Garter.30 French pressure on Harfleur continued in the months that followed the battle of Valmont, pressure that included a blockade by sea as well as military action on land. There was also international diplomatic activity focused upon the Anglo-French war. The Western Church was in the midst of what is known as the Great Schism, with three rival popes claiming to be God’s representative on earth. Pope John XXIII had been chosen by the Council of Pisa in 1409 with the intention of ending the split between Pope Gregory XII, headquartered in Rome, and Pope Benedict XIII, headquartered in Avignon, both of whom had ignored being declared deposed at Pisa. Great effort, lay and ecclesiastical, resulted in convening another general council of the Church at Constance, which opened in November 1414 and continued until 1417. An active figure in conciliar diplomacy was King Sigismund of Hungary, who had been elected Holy Roman Emperor in 1410. Sigismund absented himself from the Council of Constance to pursue diplomacy, including, he hoped, the reconciliation of France and England. After a fruitless visit to France in 1416, he made his way to England, arriving on 1 May. He was graciously entertained by King Henry and even inducted into the Order of the Garter. No record has been discovered as to the whereabouts of Radcliffe at this time. Was he with the king to greet Sigismund? Was he at home with his wife? Was he still in Harfleur? If he was in Harfleur, England’s second foothold along with Calais in northern France, he was confronting difficult times. While King Henry was engaged in diplomatic exchanges with Sigismund, Harfleur was under intense pressure from French forces on land and a blockade by sea by a combined French and Genoese fleet. There was a distinct possibility that hardwon Harfleur would be lost. Henry set in motion the raising of a fleet in the spring of 1416 that he intended to lead to the relief of Harfleur. However, an extended visit by Sigismund caused the king to designate his brother John, duke of Bedford, as commander of the naval operation.31 The result of diplomacy with

30 31

Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 270. C. T. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450 (Oxford, 1983), pp. 6–7.

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Sigismund was the Treaty of Canterbury, sealed on 15 August, which called for mutual assistance, alliance, and perpetual friendship between the two rulers. On that same day, the fleet under Bedford’s command won a naval victory over the Franco-Genoese blockade. The battle, at the mouth of the Seine and within sight of Harfleur, secured the port in English control.32 In the aftermath of the Treaty of Canterbury and the victory in the Seine, King Henry and Emperor Sigismund went separately to Calais where further diplomatic discussions were extended to include the Armagnac French and John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy. These Calais negotiations did not achieve a peace with the Armagnacs but did gain the effective neutrality of the duke of Burgundy. Burgundian benevolence, an imperial alliance, and especially the saving of Harfleur, opened the door for Henry’s second invasion of France. Radcliffe, who had demonstrated his abilities as a warrior, was to be part of the invading army. Radcliffe entered into a contract on 8 February 1417 with the king, a military indenture for one year whereby Radcliffe agreed to muster at Southampton on 1 May prepared for service in France with twenty men-at-arms and sixty archers.33 Radcliffe would appear to have been with the king at Southampton by early June,34 but it was not until 30 July that the ships carrying the invasion force set sail. Shortly before departure, Radcliffe was commissioned to array the men commanded by John Gray.35 Radcliffe has been ranked as one of the great captains of the military enterprise of 1417–21.36 The English army landed in Normandy not at Harfleur but south of the Seine in lower Normandy at Touques. The great project of conquering Normandy and making it King Henry’s, in fact as well as in hereditary claim, had begun. The landing was accomplished with only a short skirmish, and the important castle at Bonneville nearby surrendered without a fight on 9 August. The next major objective was the large and strongly fortified city of Caen, which the English began besieging on 18 August. Artillery brought with the army was used against Caen, and the city surrendered without a lengthy siege. The final assault came on 4 September and was followed by butchery of the defeated citizens because they had, like traitors, resisted the man who considered himself to be their king. King Henry required a few more days to bring about the negotiated surrender of the garrison within Caen castle, but that was accomplished on 19 September. The garrison was allowed to depart without weapons, and Henry moved into the castle where he remained for a few days. While the

32 33 34 35 36

Curry, “After Agincourt,” pp. 34–40. The National Archives (Public Record Office), E101/70/2/600. Calendar of Fine Rolls, vol. XIV. Henry V. (1413–1422) (London, 1934), pp. 201–2. Hereafter cited as CFR.. The Forty-first Annual Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 1880), p. 714. Hereafter cited as DKR XLI. M. R. Powicke, “Lancastrian Captains,” in Essays in Medieval History presented to Bertie Wilkinson, ed. T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke (Toronto, 1969), pp. 376–77.



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king was besieging Caen, several English commanders were leading raids in the surrounding countryside. Sir John Radcliffe’s part in these actions escaped recording. From Caen the invading army went southeast in early October.37 The target was Argentan, which was reached on 5 October and which surrendered without resistance. From Argentan a force was sent eastwards to Verneuil, where Sir John Neville was appointed captain; in January 1418 Radcliffe was appointed a commissioner to array the garrison under Neville’s command at Verneuil, and the previous month he had been commissioned to raise a levy there.38 King Henry remained at Argentan until 13 October, and then he set out for Alençon. Various English commanders were meanwhile forcing the surrender of fortified places in surrounding territories to reduce the possibility of hostile attacks while pressing more deeply into Normandy. Alençon offered little resistance, and the king headquartered there for November. Fortunately for the invaders, no major resistance came from any of the military powers in France. The taking of Alençon was worrisome to neighboring authorities, and while at Alençon, on 16 November, Henry concluded a truce with representatives of Brittany, Anjou, and Maine that was to run until Michaelmas 1418. English military action at this time was directed toward establishing a defensible frontier and consolidating a hold on occupied territory. The November pause in Alençon may have given Radcliffe the opportunity for a visit to England, because on 4 December he received authority to appoint an attorney to attend to his interests in England while he went abroad.39 A decision to press onward was taken, and on 1 December 1417 the English led by their king came to the city of Falaise. Winter or not, a siege was commenced, with the town accepting terms by 20 December and the French troops still in defensible cover agreeing to depart early in January 1418. The castle garrison at Falaise, however, was a tougher obstacle, and the castle did not come under English control until 16 February.40 When strongly fortified Falaise fell, other neighboring French strongholds surrendered. There was now a pause in activities of conquest to establish a still more firm hold on what had been gained in western Normandy. French forces were not inactive in resisting English conquest, but Burgundians and Armagnacs were more focused upon fighting one another than in attacking the English through the winter of 1417–18. In the spring of 1418 operations were initiated in many directions, with the ultimate goal being to conquer the whole of Normandy and then the kingdom of France. Thomas, duke of Clarence, with whom Radcliffe had served in Ireland, was authorized in February to push the frontier toward Rouen. In May, Radcliffe

37 38 39 40

For the summary that follows, see Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, pp. 70–80. Rotuli Normanniae in Turri Londinensi asservati, Johanne et Henrico Quinto Angliae Regibus (London, 1835), p. 358; Rymer, Foedera, 9: 539. DKR XLIV, p. 601. Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, pp. 78–80.

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was noted as being in the retinue of Clarence.41 Another expedition was sent against Evreux, currently occupied by supporters of the duke of Burgundy.42 The commander of this expedition was Thomas Beaufort, now duke of Exeter, with whom Radcliffe had fought at Valmont. Evreux surrendered on 20 May.43 This was not the most significant campaign of 1418, but it was very important for Radcliffe. A few days after the capitulation of the cathedral city of Evreux the king set out himself on a campaign that carried him in the path of his brother Clarence. It was the practice of the king in the course of his conquests to disturb localities as little as possible, and that meant, among other things, taking over existing administrative institutions while making sure that they came under English control.44 Administrative districts were known as baillages, and their chief officers as baillis. Evreux, with its castle, cathedral, and mint, was the center of the baillage of Evreux. Sir John Radcliffe was appointed by the king on 2 June to be bailli of Evreux.45 Radcliffe had obviously made a good impression upon his commanders, and he soon took up his duties, which were basically to execute justice and maintain the peace. He was to destroy any fortification in the area he was unable to garrison, and he could conclude local truces. Radcliffe had participated in capturing territory and now he was charged with holding a piece of it. The king was planning to press his campaign north of the Seine, and he wanted to cover his back as he did so. Consequently, on 22 July Radcliffe was commissioned in his capacity as bailli of Evreux to conclude a truce with the pro-Burgundian vidame of Chartres and the captain of La Ferté Arnaud (now La Ferté-Vidame).46 In August Radcliffe was empowered to conclude truces with the captains of the castles at Courville and Maillebois, and to lease lands within his baillage, remembering to certify the names of the lessees.47 The next month Radcliffe was commissioned to conclude a truce with the captains of the town and the castle of Vernon, and to issue letters of safe conduct for the vintage season for the benefit of commercial relations between Vernon and Evreux.48 In October Radcliffe was sent by the king to Verneuil to collect any revenues due to the king from that region and to assist with the mustering of the men of

41 42 43 44 45

46 47 48

DKR XLI, p. 593. Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, pp. 99–100. DKR XLI, p. 746. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, p. 59. DKR XLI, p. 713; Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, p. 100, n. 38; “Roles Normands et Français,” Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie (3rd series, 3rd vol. part 1) 23 (1858), 18, 30. DKR XLI, p. 714; Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, p. 104. DKR XLI, pp. 696, 716; Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, 114; “Roles Normands et Français,” p. 209. DKR XLI, p. 697; Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, p. 114; “Roles Normands et Français,” p. 209.



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the deceased Sir Brian Stapleton.49 Radcliffe would be sent to Verneuil again in December to collect money due to the king from captains of garrisons in the area.50 Between the two commissions to Verneuil, Radcliffe received from the king the gift of a ship called a ‘hulk’ forfeited by Sir John Mortemer,51 and also, together with his wife Cecily, the keeping of the Suffolk manor of Framsden during the minority of the heiress.52 During the early months of 1419 Radcliffe was assigned assorted tasks in his capacity as bailli of Evreux. In mid February he received a mandate from the king to make a proclamation within his baillage that anyone, regardless of any past offences, who wished to swear fealty to the English king be allowed to do so without molestation.53 On 9 March he was mandated to suspend until further notice any legal proceedings set in motion before 1 August 1417, and a few weeks later was instructed to make a proclamation that no goods or provisions belonging to English or Norman merchants were to be seized in any port of Normandy.54 On 3 April Radcliffe was ordered by the king to make a proclamation to all sellers of provisions in his baillage that they hurry off to Ivry and hold markets for the benefit of the king’s brother Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, who occupied the town,55 and a week later he and other baillis were told to issue a proclamation against any soldiers taking provisions or horses without making payment.56 This last order was in accord with King Henry’s desire to be in harmony with his Norman subjects. Then on 28 April there came an order to assign dowry to a knight’s widow.57 On the first day of May, Radcliffe was one of several officers of the king ordered to make a proclamation that local merchants were to direct provisions weekly to the market at Mantes, which had submitted to the English on 5 February and where the king was currently staying.58 On 7 May Radcliffe was one of several baillis instructed to levy a tax on wine, beer, and cider to provide needed revenue for the king.59 That Radcliffe was a successful administrator as bailli of Evreux is demonstrated by the king’s next assignment to him. He was to go to the king’s dominion of Gascony or, as it was alternatively known, Guyenne or Aquitaine. On 16 May 1419 Radcliffe was appointed constable of the wealthy city of Bordeaux and 49 50 51 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Rotuli Normanniae, ed. Hardy, pp. 194, 357–58. Rotuli Normanniae, ed. Hardy, p. 219; Rymer, Foedera, 9: 539. Rotuli Normanniae, ed. Hardy, p. 203. CFR (1413–1422), pp. 227–28. The terms of the Radcliffes’ possession were slightly altered in 1419: CPR (1416–1422), p. 182. Custody of Framsden, which could produce an income up to £20 annually, also included profit from the marriage of the heiress, Margaret, daughter of Sir Thomas Morley. DKR XLI, pp. 751, 754. DKR XLI, p. 759; The Forty-second Annual Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 1881), p. 315. Hereafter cited as DKR XLII. DKR XLII, p. 314. Ibid., p. 313. Ibid., p. 316. Ibid., p. 319; Newhall, Conquest of Normandy, pp. 127–28. DKR XLII, p. 318.

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captain and constable of the strategically located castle of nearby Fronsac on the Dordogne.60 Gilbert Halsale replaced Radcliffe as bailli of Evreux,61 and Radcliffe made his way south to the chief city of Gascony. Within days Nicholas Waryn, master of a ship called Le James, was commissioned to enlist forty mariners in order to convey victuals from England to Bordeaux and Fronsac in support of Radcliffe’s mission there.62 Bordeaux was the primary port city of its region, dominated the waterway of the Garonne, and was at the heart of a major wine-producing area. Radcliffe’s duties were administrative and military, for the constable of Bordeaux was the chief financial officer in the locality,63 while the captain of a castle combined military and administrative responsibilities. One of Radcliffe’s first official tasks was to express King Henry’s regrets to the political establishment in Guyenne that he could not personally conduct military operations there while he was occupied in Normandy, and asking them to grant a tax of one gold noble from each “hearth” to be used for military actions in Guyenne; the request for taxation was unsuccessful.64 The mayor of Bordeaux, who had been in office for several years, was the Englishman Sir John St John.65 Radcliffe and St John were the men the king used in September 1419 to communicate his wishes for peace and defense from enemies to the archbishop of Bordeaux and to the town councils, formed from a patrician oligarchy that had local control of Bordeaux.66 The next month, October, King Henry, writing from Mantes, extended the communication of his desire for the preservation of Guyenne from its enemies to the general population of the duchy, and continued to use Radcliffe and St John as his spokesmen.67 The two officers were also instructed to work with Jean I Grailly, count of Foix, who had come into alliance with the English following the murder of his brother Arcambaud (along with John, duke of Burgundy) at Montereau. The most daunting task assigned was to persuade local authorities to levy a tax for defense and war to defend Guyenne. Finances were a challenge, evidenced by the fact that during Radcliffe’s term as constable of Bordeaux income averaged just over £768 annually, while expenses averaged nearly £1,175.68 Radcliffe’s activities as constable are not well recorded, but in June 1420 he was licensed to purchase wheat and oats in Norfolk to be shipped to Gascony 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

67 68

Calendar of Signet Letters of Henry IV and Henry V (1399–1422), ed. J. L. Kirby (London, 1978), p. 176. Hereafter cited as CSL. DKR XLII, p. 325. CPR (1416–1422), p. 267. Eleanor C. Lodge, Gascony under English Rule (London, 1926), pp. 140, 153; M. G. A. Vale, English Gascony, 1399–1453 (Oxford, 1970), p. 8. Wylie, Henry the Fifth, 3: 367–68. Wylie, Henry the Fifth, 3: 77, n. 5. CSL, pp. 178–79; Vale, English Gascony, pp. 20–21; Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, ed. Nicolas H. Nicolas. 6 vols. (London, 1834–37), 2: 263: hereafter cited as POPC. CSL, p. 180; POPC, 2: 264–66; Vale, English Gascony, p. 80. Vale, English Gascony, p. 236.



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for the supplying of Fronsac and other castles under his supervision.69 As this notice suggests, Radcliffe was paying a visit to England. Radcliffe’s presence in England reduces the likelihood that he was involved in the events leading up to the Treaty of Troyes. The king had spent the early months of 1420 concentrating on diplomatic negotiations with the government of King Charles VI that culminated in one of Henry’s greatest successes, the Treaty of Troyes, sealed on 21 May. Supported by Philip, duke of Burgundy, who had become an ally of England in revenge for the murder of his father, Duke John, at Montereau in 1419, the treaty stipulated that Henry should marry Princess Katherine, Charles VI’s daughter, become regent of France for Charles VI, and inherit the French throne on Charles’s death, with the descendants of Katherine and Henry ruling both kingdoms of France and England. The Dauphin, Charles VI’s son (ultimately Charles VII), was disinherited. Henry and Katherine were married at Troyes on 2 June. Late in 1420 Radcliffe was elected to represent Norfolk in the parliamentary commons.70 The main business of Radcliffe’s first parliamentary experience, in December 1420, was to petition the king to return to England bringing his new queen with him. No grant of taxation was made, and the Commons desired assurance that the English Crown would not be subordinated to that of France.71 The following spring, in April 1421, Radcliffe was commissioned to employ a ship with its masters and mariners to convey him to any port in Normandy.72 He was assuredly back across the sea by 5 May when the king wrote to him from Rouen castle commissioning him to tour the fortresses in English possession and report on the conduct of the garrisons and their captains.73 As a reminder that military action was ongoing, Radcliffe was later in May commissioned to array the men of Sir Gilbert Halsale, his successor as bailli of Evreux.74 Early in the summer the king sent a letter to the leaders and residents of Bordeaux commending Sir John Radcliffe and others for their great efforts in warring against the king’s enemies, and thanking the locals for their continuing support.75 At the end of 1421 Radcliffe made a trip to England. In October a Hertfordshire man, with the evocative surname of Fletcher, was noted as a member of Radcliffe’s retinue,76 and in November Sir John received a payment from the king’s exchequer for maritime expenses.77 Then on the first day of December

69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

CPR (1416–1422), p. 299. Woodger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 156. J. S. Roskell, The Commons and their Speakers in English Parliaments, 1376–1523 (Manchester, 1965), pp. 169–70. CPR (1416–1422), p. 383. DKR XLII, p. 428; Rymer, Foedera, 10: 112. DKR XLII, p. 427. CSL, p. 199. DKR XLIV, p. 631. F. M. T. Palgrave, The Antient Kalendars and Inventories of the Treasury of His Majesty’s Exchequer. 3 vols. (London, 1836), 2: 102.

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Radcliffe obtained letters of attorney because he was leaving the kingdom.78 He must have been back in the region of military operations by 8 March 1422, because he was commissioned to take the oath of the count of Foix to support the Treaty of Troyes, an oath that Foix never gave.79 On the same day it was noted that the king of France, now under the thumb of Henry V, had retained two thousand men to serve under the count of Foix, and Radcliffe was one of the men charged with mustering and reviewing those men.80 As Radcliffe shouldered his burdens as constable of Bordeaux and captain of Fronsac, his talents were suggesting him for greater responsibilities. Moreover, a great change in circumstances had come with the death of Henry V on 31 August 1422, and the accession of the infant son of Henry and Katherine, Henry VI. England was at the beginning of the longest royal minority the kingdom had ever experienced, and a council was appointed to govern England during the minority. Charles VI died in October, and effort had to be directed toward little Henry’s inheritance in France, as set by the Treaty of Troyes, as well as his inheritance in England. Henry V was survived by two younger brothers: Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, and John, duke of Bedford, the latter having supervision over preserving the continental lands of his royal nephew. The third brother of Henry V, Thomas, duke of Clarence, had been killed in the English defeat at the hands of a Franco-Scottish army at the Battle of Baugé in 1421.81 Having served under Prince Thomas, Radcliffe must have found the events of Baugé distressing. The minority council determined upon the appointment of Radcliffe as seneschal or steward of Guyenne in March 1423, and the formal appointment was made as of 1 May with a salary of 4s. per day.82 Radcliffe was apparently on the Continent because he was commissioned in early March to muster and array the men of the count of Foix, who was serving as governor of Languedoc and Bigorre.83 It was arranged that Radcliffe would raise a force of two hundred mounted archers to serve under him at 20 marks annually for each man retained, and the council promised to pay arrears of 1,000 marks per annum owed to Radcliffe for his term as captain of Fronsac, a post he retained even after his appointment as seneschal.84 As seneschal of Guyenne, Radcliffe had extensive authority.85 He was primarily a military officer, but other matters fell under his dominion. He could administer justice, although judicial matters were normally delegated to lieutenants, usually trained lawyers. The seneschal handled finances, negotiated truces, granted pardons, punished breakers of truces, and appointed 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

DKR XLIV, p. 634. Rymer, Foedera, 10: 188; Vale, English Gascony, p. 96. Rymer, Foedera, 10: 192–93. For the battle, see John D. Milner, “The Battle of Baugé, March 1421: Impact and Memory,” History 91 (2006), 483–507. POPC, 3:52; CPR (1429–1436), pp. 269–70; Vale, English Gascony, p. 245. Rymer, Foedera, 10: 273, 278. POPC, 3:68, 70; CPR (1429–1436), pp. 269–70. Lodge, Gascony, pp. 138–39; Vale, English Gascony, p. 7.



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and removed officers, notaries, and serjeants-at-arms. Radcliffe was, in short, the chief ruling English military and administrative authority in southwestern France. It was a huge and burdensome task. Arrangements were made in June for his transport by ship from Southampton to Gascony with two hundred horses, harness, and supplies.86 On 18 June 1423 commissioners were appointed to muster and review Radcliffe and his men at Southampton.87 He departed for the Continent in August. Radcliffe’s wife, Cicely, was with him in Bordeaux, and sadly she died there in 1423. In the summer of 1424 the king’s council directed patronage toward Radcliffe and three other men in the form of custody of the manor of Stow Bedon in Norfolk during the minority of Hugh Camoys, heir of the deceased Agincourt veteran Thomas, Lord Camoys, K.G.88 Such matters as grief for a wife and land acquisitions attracted less fame than prowess in war, and in 1425 Radcliffe scored a notable military triumph, and one that figured prominently in recommending him for election into the Order of the Garter.89 Radcliffe determined to capture the cathedral city of Bazas nearly forty miles southeast of Bordeaux. The lord of Bazas was the count of Foix, who had defected from the English to Charles of France. As the story is told, Radcliffe set the siege and challenged the defenders to battle, which they dared not accept. Negotiations then took place that allowed the defenders of Bazas eight days of safe conduct during which they withdrew, surrendering the city to Radcliffe in March 1425.90 Radcliffe gained success with ruthless energy and chivalric demeanor, and recovered a city regarded as part of the English king’s dominion of Guyenne. Military enterprises like the siege of Bazas and the maintenance of a military presence in the king’s lands across the Channel cost a great deal more money than the Crown had on hand, and Radcliffe was feeling the financial pinch for his wages and those of his retinues. He even had to borrow money from the citizens of Bordeaux.91 A parliament opened at Westminster on 30 April 1425, and a council note states, although the parliamentary roll does not record, that Radcliffe appeared before the Lords in parliament on 23 May requesting that he be relieved of the office of seneschal of Aquitaine and the keeping of the various castles and fortresses under his supervision.92 That did not happen, but the message Radcliffe was sending concerning the shortage of funding was to some extent received. Radcliffe did not want to be held responsible if disasters befell English Gascony because of inadequate defensive measures. It is likely that it was during his 1425 visit to England that Radcliffe entered

86 87 88 89 90 91 92

CPR (1422–1429), p. 124. Ibid. CFR (1422–1430), pp. 80–81, 99. Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 270. Vale, English Gascony, pp. 96–7. Margaret Wade Labarge, Gascony, England’s First Colony, 1204–1453 (London, 1980), p. 201. POPC, 3: 170.

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into his second marriage.93 His new wife was Katherine (d. 1452), widow of Sir John Ferrers and daughter and co-heir of Sir Edward Burnell of Billingford, Thurning, and East Rushton, Norfolk. Some financial favors came his way, probably to encourage his return to Gascony. On 24 July Radcliffe was granted the wardship and marriage of John, son and heir of Henry, Lord Beaumont of Folkingham (d. 1413), for £600.94 A year later the council granted Radcliffe the marriage of the young Ralph, earl of Westmorland, as part of the 2,000 marks of his unpaid wages as seneschal of Guyenne, and also the 200 marks Elizabeth, widow of John, Lord Clifford, paid for the freedom to marry a man of her choice.95 Later, in February 1428, Radcliffe was granted £200 worth of Sir Andrew Bagney’s lands, and he likely derived some profit from the lands of John, the minor son and heir of Sir John Beaumont, which were scattered over the counties of Lincoln, Leicester, and Southampton, as well as in the city of Lincoln.96 Radcliffe seems to have been in no hurry to return to his duties in France. A citizen and vintner of London called Adam Copyndale, who supplied the castle of Fronsac, obtained a letter of protection in December as a member of Radcliffe’s retinue,97 but the protection was revoked in January 1426 because Copyndale lingered in London.98 He may have lingered because Radcliffe was in England. A merchant from Bordeaux obtained a letter of protection in April as a member of Radcliffe’s retinue.99 A year later, in May 1427, a wool-dealer and citizen of London, Richard Brian, secured a letter of protection to be part of Radcliffe’s retinue stationed at Fronsac.100 In the meantime, in March 1426 Radcliffe was designated as an arbiter in a dispute over title and possession of lands in Norfolk.101 The following July, Radcliffe was appointed to raise loans in Shropshire against the collateral of future customs revenue.102 In the spring of 1427, Radcliffe was still in England, as was the duke of Bedford, making preparations for a military expedition to northern France. Bedford departed England on 19 March,103 but Radcliffe stayed on to carry out an assigned task. Radcliffe was commissioned on 20 March to arrest the notorious outlaw William Wawe.104 Wawe was the leader of a gang with a

93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104

Hampson, Radclyffes, pp. 43–4; Woodger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 157. CPR (1422–1429), p. 264. POPC, 3: 204; CPR (1422–1429), p. 350. R. A. Griffiths, The Reign of King Henry VI (Berkeley, CA, 1981), p. 87; CFR (1422–1430), pp. 208, 211–12, 228–29. The Forty-eighth Annual Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 18??), p. 239. Hereafter cited as DKR XLVIII. CPR (1422–1429), p. 325. DKR XLVIII, p. 241. Ibid., p. 249. Calendar of Close Rolls (1422–1429), p. 265. Hereafter cited as CCR.. CPR (1422–1429), p. 354. E. Carleton Williams, My Lord of Bedford, 1389–1435 (London, 1963), p. 147. CPR (1422–1429), p. 422; Frederick Devon, Issues of the Exchequer (London, 1837), pp.



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lengthy criminal record of robbing merchants, clerics and nuns, attacking religious houses, stealing horses, murder, and speaking treasonously of the king. A reward of £100 had been offered for Wawe dead or alive, and one of Radcliffe’s servants had even joined the gang. In May Radcliffe arrested Wawe in a house belonging to Beaulieu Abbey in Hampshire. That during the arrest rights of sanctuary might have been violated was ignored, and Wawe was subjected to the king’s justice and consequently hanged in Southwark on 3 July. Only in October 1428 did the king’s council determine to award Radcliffe £40 for his seizure of Wawe.105 Radcliffe did not leave England in the aftermath of the Wawe affair. He was returned to the Commons to sit for Norfolk in the parliament of 1427–28.106 Public opinion was excited at the time by Duke Humphrey’s abandonment of his wife, Jacqueline of Hainault, and his marriage to Eleanor Cobham. The parliament did authorize taxation, but gave little attention to the military situation in France.107 Radcliffe joined privy seal clerks in witnessing a document on 7 December 1427,108 and it is known that he was absent from Guyenne until at least June 1431.109 In February 1428, probably as an encouragement to cross the Channel, Radcliffe was granted valuable lands in Gascony.110 Guyenne, however, was not the only continental territory the English minority government was concerned to hold. Norman possessions and frontiers were also of immediate concern. In the spring of 1428 it was planned that Radcliffe would depart for France to join the duke of Bedford, taking with him 100 lances and 700 archers, and he was awarded £200 for his exemplary service abroad,111 but he remained in England. The great campaign of 1428 was the one led by Thomas Montague, earl of Salisbury, and it had the siege of Orléans as its mark of distinction. In late June Radcliffe was one of the men commissioned to muster the men-at-arms and archers who were to go to France under Salisbury’s command.112 The original plan had been for Salisbury to assist Bedford with a campaign into Anjou but, for reasons unknown, the campaign pushed toward Orléans.113 Salisbury set sail from England in July while Radcliffe was tending to his own financial business. He was one of the recipients of a grant of land in Essex on the first day of July,114 and he benefited on 10 July from the determination of the king’s council to pay him 4,000 marks out of an antici-

105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114

398–99; R. A. Griffiths, “William Wawe and his Gang, 1427,” in idem, King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1991), pp. 227–32. POPC, 3: 312. Woodger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 157. Roskell, Commons, pp. 192–96. CCR (1422–1429), p. 445. Vale, English Gascony, p. 245; Palgrave, Antient Kalendars, 2: 137. Woolger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 157. POPC, 3: 295. CPR (1422–1429), p. 466; Rymer, Foedera, 10: 402. Juliet Barker, Conquest (London, 2009), pp. 96–9. CPR (1422–1429), p. 483.

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pated revenue for the 200 archers under Radcliffe’s command.115 Over the next few months, military enterprise focused on the earl of Salisbury who fought his way to Orléans, opening his siege of the city in October. There may have been an intention that Radcliffe would make his way to France because letters of protection were issued to him on 15 October.116 At Orléans, on 27 October, well before the dramatic appearance of Joan of Arc and the lifting of the siege, Salisbury was wounded in the face by stone fragments of a cannon shot, and he died from his injuries on 3 November.117 The death of Salisbury meant the loss of one of England’s most able commanders, but for Sir John Radcliffe the tragedy was a cloud with a silver lining. At the next meeting of the fellowship of the Order of the Garter, on 22 April 1429, it was Sir John Radcliffe who was elected and instituted to fill the place left vacant by the death of the earl of Salisbury.118 Radcliffe had been nominated to the fellowship in 1426 when his friend Sir John Fastolf had been chosen,119 but now his turn came for election. The fellowship, restricted to twenty-six members, customarily gathered annually on or near the feast day of its patron saint, St George (23 April). A letter from the duke of Bedford recommending Radcliffe, as has been mentioned, was forwarded to the fellowship, and Radcliffe’s election took place in 1429. The letter gave emphasis to the capture of Bazas in 1425, an indication that Radcliffe’s actions at Bazas consolidated his knightly reputation, and election to the fraternity of the Garter in this era required a demonstration of martial prowess derived primarily from war service in France.120 The recommendation letter also stated that Radcliffe had engaged in military service “the space of xxviij Wynter unreproched.”121 The chivalric color of the word ‘unreproached’ is noteworthy. If the figure of twentyeight winters is correct, it pushes Radcliffe’s career in arms back to the turn of the century, a few years before the Battle of Shrewsbury, and a few years before any military action by Radcliffe has left some trace in the records. Sir Ralph 115 116 117 118

119

120 121

POPC, 3: 303–4. Radcliffe was confirmed late in 1428 as captain of Fronsac: The National Archives (Public Record Office), E101/71/3/871. DKR XLVIII, p. 260. Mark W. Warner, “Chivalry in Action: Thomas Montague and the War in France, 1417–1428,” Nottingham Medieval Studies 42 (1998), 146–73. John Anstis, Register of the Most Noble Order of the Garter … Called the Black Book. 2 vols. (London, 1724), 1: 103; George Frederick. Beltz, Memorials of the Order of the Garter (London, 1841), p. clix. Radcliffe was in England in February 1429 when he acted as mainprise in the custody arrangements for the late earl of March: CFR (1422–1430), pp. 260–62. Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 96. As a matter of family association, it is noteworthy that Sir John Radcliffe shared Radcliffe ancestry with Sir Richard Ratcliffe (Radcliffe), one of Richard III’s Garter Knights, and a granddaughter of Sir John’s, Anne Herling, was married in turn to two Garter Knights, Sir William Chamberlain and John, Lord Scrope of Bolton. Hampson, Radclyffes, pp. 222–25; Nigel Saul, Chivalry in Medieval England (Cambridge, MA, 2011), p. 430. H. E. L. Collins, The Order of the Garter, 1348–1461 (Oxford, 2000), pp. 41, 45, 47–48, 89–90, 127. Ashmole, Order of the Garter, p. 270.



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Radcliffe, sheriff of Lancashire, gave his support in 1399 to Henry Bolingbroke in the overthrow of Richard II,122 as did James Radcliffe, and other members of the Radcliffe family, including John, may well have followed the family leaders. Election to membership in the Order of the Garter was not only a recognition of service rendered, it was also a signal of future service expected. Early in May, after his induction into the Order of the Garter, the king’s council determined to contract with Radcliffe for half a year to serve in France with 100 lances and 700 archers, that the wages of the retinue would be paid, and that Radcliffe would be paid a reward of £200 for past services.123 Orders were soon issued to requisition in London and the ports of Kent and Sussex all ships from twenty to ninety tons, with masters and mariners, to be at Southampton before 26 June to transport Radcliffe and his retinue to France.124 On 26 June 1429 commissioners were appointed to take the muster of Radcliffe and the men under his command before their departure from Sandwich for France.125 The same day the commissioners for muster and review were appointed, the council decided to assign £1,000 yearly to Radcliffe out of the subsidies and customs derived from the ports of Melcombe and Redcliffe in the county of Dorset until Radcliffe could recover the £6,620 6s. 11d. the government owed him for his offices of seneschal of Guyenne and captain of Fronsac.126 Unfortunately for Radcliffe, a short time after the assignment of money was made, the huge and growing indebtedness of the government caused a temporary halt in the payment of any debts other than those of the royal household.127 Radcliffe found himself one of the Crown’s largest creditors as the government slid toward bankruptcy. Yet preparations for departure continued as Radcliffe obtained authority to appoint an attorney to handle his affairs while he was abroad, and notice was taken of members of his retinue.128 It would appear that lack of money to pay the troops prevented Radcliffe from making any significant impact in France during what must have been an expedition of only a few months. Of greater priority was the fact that young King Henry was being taken to France for his coronation as king of France. In April 1430, having returned to England, Radcliffe was commissioned to take the muster of troops gathered near Dover and Sandwich in preparation

122 123 124 125

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Douglas L. Biggs, Three Armies in Britain: The Irish Campaign of Richard II and the Usurpation of Henry IV, 1397–1399 (Leiden, 2006), pp. 204, 222, 226. POPC, 3: 326. The indenture for military service, dated 12 May, is The National Archives (Public Record Office), E. 404/45/140. CPR (1422–1429), p. 522. CPR (1422–1429), p. 554. A London chronicle places Radcliffe’s departure for France “on Synte Petrys day,” presumably Peter ad Vincula, 1 August: “Gregory’s Chronicle,” in The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century, ed. James Gairdner (London, 1876), p. 164. POPC, 3: 339. Griffiths, Henry VI, p. 114. DKR XLVIII, pp. 262–63; CPR (1422–1429), p. 537.

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for going to France.129 Henry VI landed in what was thought of as his second kingdom that same month. The coronation journey had a great deal to do with English military difficulties, such as the failure of the siege of Orléans and the French successes under the inspiration of Joan of Arc. The crowning of Henry as king of France was a defiant assertion that the English intended for the terms of the Treaty of Troyes, whereby the child of Henry V and Katherine of Valois would be king of France as well as of England, would be carried out. Joan of Arc’s brief life was ended with her burning as a relapsed heretic on 30 May 1431. Henry was crowned as king of France in Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, on 16 December 1431, and did not return to England until early 1432. The French coronation and the military activity accompanying it was an enormous expense for the English government. Radcliffe was not part of the coronation expedition. He attended the Garter gathering at Windsor in the spring of 1430 as well as that of the next year.130 In May 1430 the king’s council once again determined to issue a payment of £200 to Radcliffe, this time to benefit him if he made his way to Gascony or at least, if he did not go, to pay some of the debts due him from the Crown.131 The debt of £6,620 6s. 11d. came up again in July, and it is not difficult to imagine the Garter Knight lobbying his case before the ruling council. Nor is it difficult to understand Radcliffe’s reluctance to return to his unrewarded duties in Gascony. The council determined to give him a year from the next Michaelmas (that is, until 29 September 1431) to get himself to Gascony, and on that condition he would be allowed to reduce the debt owed to him by drawing upon the customs and subsidies levied in the ports of Melcombe, Exeter, Dartmouth, Plymouth, Fowey, and Bridgewater.132 He was permitted to select someone to represent his interests in each port. It required efforts through late 1430 and into early 1431 to put into place the men with authority to collect what was owed to Radcliffe.133 In March Radcliffe was granted the marriage of a ward in the king’s custody, which promised him a profit of 500 marks or more.134 The same month, he contracted to campaign in Gascony with a force of 20 men-at-arms and 500 archers; these troops to reinforce the 200 archers already on site.135 Another way partially to repay Radcliffe was the decision to direct to him some of the clerical subsidy granted from the ecclesiastical province of Canterbury and due for collection by Martinmas 1431.136 On 12 June 1431 commissioners were appointed to arrest ships in various ports to be gathered at Plymouth as quickly as possible in order to transport

129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136

CPR (1429–1436), p. 72. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 105, 107. POPC, 4: 50–1. POPC, 4: 53; CPR (1429–1436), p. 69. CFR (1430–1437), pp. 12–16. CPR (1429–1436), p. 116. Woolger, “Radcliffe,” 4: 158. CPR (1429–1436), p. 115.



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Sir John Radcliffe, his men-at-arms and archers, together with 700 horses, to Bordeaux.137 On the same day, Radcliffe appointed his son Thomas to be his attorney in charge of all the business interests in England and Wales of the absent knight.138 Later in June commissioners were appointed to array Radcliffe’s retinue at Plymouth during the early days of July.139 Sir John set sail for Guyenne where he again took up his duties as seneschal. In the months that followed note was made of the gunner, a London resident, who was supposed to join Radcliffe’s retinue in Guyenne, but who had not, and of the man dallying in Cornwall and the mercer still in Nottinghamshire when they were supposed to be in the company of Radcliffe.140 It was recorded that Radcliffe missed the Garter fellowship gathering on the eve of St George’s Day in 1432 because he was “ad militiam Regis” in Guyenne.141 Radcliffe had returned to England by February 1433 when he was involved in a peace-keeping process.142 Of great personal concern, however, was Radcliffe’s pursuit of the debts owed to him by the Crown. The young king’s council acknowledged in a meeting on 16 March that Radcliffe was owed £7,029 13s. 1d., and decided that all the profits from the counties of Caernarfon and Merioneth in North Wales and from the lordship of Chirk and Chirklands in the Welsh March be directed to Radcliffe until the debt was eliminated.143 The debt had accumulated from his wages from the offices of seneschal of Guyenne and captain of Fronsac and the wages of the retinues under Radcliffe’s command. Although Sir John presented his case to the council effectively, it was still under discussion in May.144 Concern over indebtedness to Radcliffe most likely explains the granting to Radcliffe in May 1433 of custody of the property, together with the marriage, of the minor heiress Elizabeth (born 1430), daughter of Walter, Lord FitzWalter (d. 1431) and his wife Elizabeth.145 Radcliffe cleverly married the heiress to his son from his second marriage, his heir, John, who was recognized as Lord FitzWalter shortly before he was killed fighting in the Yorkist setback at Ferrybridge (March 1461) in the run-up to the Yorkist victory at Towton.146 The heir of this marriage, another John Radcliffe (d. 1496) and the grandson of our 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146

CPR (1429–1436), p. 152. CCR (1429–1435), p. 133. CPR (1429–1436), p. 127. CPR (1429–1436), pp. 180, 193, 240. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 110. CCR (1429–1435), p. 244. POPC, 4: 155, 199–200. CPR (1429–1436), pp. 269–70. CPR (1429–1436), p. 263; G. E. Cokayne, Complete Peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland…, ed. V. Gibbs et al. 12 vols. (London, 1910–59), 5: 483–85. Colin Richmond, “The Nobility and the Wars of the Roses: The Parliamentary Session of January 1461,” Parliamentary History 18 (1999), 263–65. It would be interesting to know if exasperation with the Lancastrian government’s long indebtedness to his father caused Lord FitzWalter to give his support to the House of York. See also Tim Sutherland, “Killing Time: Challenging the Common Perceptions of Three Medieval Conflicts–Ferrybridge, Dintingdale

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subject, was also Lord FitzWalter. The heir of the grandson John was Robert Radcliffe, who died in 1542 as earl of Sussex.147 The seneschal of Guyenne did not know it, but he had set the course for his great-grandson to secure an earldom. Of less dramatic consequence than the FitzWalter custody, Radcliffe was granted in July 1433, together with Nicholas Bocking, the custody of the lands and the marriage of Robert, heir of Katherine Dru.148 The Crown received payment from the recipients in both of these wardship cases, but the grantees derived profits as well, not only financial profits but, as with the FitzWalter marriage, a profit of rising social status. Radcliffe was staying near the center of government at this time, as demonstrated by his witnessing a grant of land by the Crown on 19 July.149 In November 1433 reminders went out to the collectors of customs and subsidies in the ports of Melcombe, Exeter, Dartmouth, Plymouth, Fowey, and Bridgewater that they were to deliver revenue collected to Sir John Radcliffe until the debt of £6,620 6s. 11d. had been paid off for the service of the king’s knight as seneschal of Aquitaine and captain of Fronsac.150 In this same period Radcliffe acted as surety for the Essex knight Edmund Benstead, and was appointed to a commission to look into suspected malfeasance on the part of the mayors, sheriffs, and aldermen of the city of Norfolk.151 In February 1434 the king’s council did a review of the indebtedness of the Crown to Radcliffe, and the record indicates that some bargaining had taken place.152 It was noted that Radcliffe had earlier been assigned revenues from the counties of Caernarfon and Merioneth and from the lordship of Chirk. Now Radcliffe was to be made chamberlain of North Wales as a means of recovering what was owed to him. He would not take the annual £60 normally associated with the post. He would account to the king for the anticipated annual revenue of the two counties, a sum of £727 10s. 2d. That sum, however, would go to Radcliffe, not to the king, as a method of paying Radcliffe what he was owed. If a larger sum was collected in a year, the surplus would contribute to paying the Crown’s own debt. If a smaller annual sum was realized than was normally anticipated, Radcliffe would have to absorb the loss. Radcliffe was thus given an incentive to have diligent agents attending to his business. Radcliffe accepted that he would pay the auditors for North Wales and such expenses as those for transporting cash, all of which was projected to be £22 15s. The Crown, on its side, would pay the £352 16s. 8d. yearly wages for the soldiers stationed in North Wales. Radcliffe was charged to account for all sources of royal income in North Wales, and to ensure that the

147 148 149 150 151 152

and Towton–‘The Largest Battle on English Soil’,” Journal of Conflict Archaeology 5 (2009), 1–25. Hampson, Radclyffes, p. 36. CFR (1430–1437), pp. 154, 181–82. CCR (1429–1435), p. 257. CCR (1429–1435), p. 263. CCR (1429–1435), p. 298; CPR (1429–1436), p. 351. POPC, 4: 199–200; CPR (1429–1436), p. 338.



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king derived as his annual profit from the chamberlainship of North Wales the sum of £467 11s. 8d. The king’s subjects in North Wales were hopefully going to clear some Crown debts, although it would do nothing dramatic to balance Crown income with its expenditures. Sir John attended the gathering of the Garter fellowship at Windsor in April 1434, and a curious financial account survives from the occasion.153 Sums were listed for the purchase of bread, ale, wine, beef, chicken, and fish, and for wood and coal for heat to meet the needs of Radcliffe and his companions John Holland, earl of Huntingdon, and John Cornewaille, Lord Fanhope. The expenses, which included transporting victuals from London to Windsor and rewards for various officials, came to an impressive £16 8s. 11d. Holland and Cornewaille, like Radcliffe, were veterans of the Agincourt campaign, and it is tempting to imagine the three men clubbing together at Windsor exchanging war reminiscences, wondering if their king would hold or extend his French dominions when he came of age, and perhaps fretting over the survey of government finances made in 1433 by the Treasurer of England, Ralph, Lord Cromwell, showing that a crippling state of impoverishment had been reached.154 Radcliffe’s finances got a bit of a lift about the time of the Windsor event with the grant to him of the keeping of some acreage in Norfolk and the marriage of Margaret, the minor heiress of John Mautby (d. 1433),155 but that was of no financial assistance to the Crown. (Margaret Mautby later married John Paston, a friend of Sir John Fastolf.156) Lord Cromwell had become Treasurer of England in 1433 soon after John, duke of Bedford, returned to England from France to discuss with the minority council his plans for the war and his need for men and money to hold continental territories. There was tension between Bedford and his brother Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, and Radcliffe was among the men of influence who tried to smooth the relationship of the two royal uncles.157 Bedford returned to France in July 1434, and Radcliffe would do the same a year later. Meanwhile, Radcliffe was tending to private matters, which have left no traces, and to the public matter of the money owed to him by the Crown. The king’s council was discussing the debts to Radcliffe in February 1435, and Radcliffe presented a formal petition to the council reflecting both the financial challenges facing the government and his own difficulties in getting paid what was owed to him.158 Radcliffe generously suspended for two years (from 2 February 1435) half of his claim upon the customs revenues from the ports of Caernarfon and Merioneth and the lordship of Chirk, as well as his claim upon 153 154

155 156 157 158

Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 111. J. L. Kirby, “The Issues of the Lancastrian Exchequer and Lord Cromwell’s Estimates of 1433,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 24 (1951), 148. For Lord Fanhope, see A. C. Reeves, Lancastrian Englishmen (Washington, D.C., 1981), pp. 139–202. CFR (1430–1437), p. 198. Colin Richmond, The Paston Family in the Fifteenth Century: The First Phase (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 123–24. POPC, 4: 210–13. POPC, 4: 292, 298–300.

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other sources of revenue in North Wales. The sums Radcliffe was giving up were to assist the government, but Sir John wanted to be certain that in the long term he would get the full amount owed to him. The quest for payment was not about to be concluded, and it may only be wondered what argument convinced Radcliffe temporarily to suspend his financial claims. As the summer of 1435 approached, the English government was faced with a critical diplomatic and military situation. The French war was a continuing drain upon finances, and there was a crucial need to maintain the Anglo-Burgundian alliance that had been confirmed in 1420 when the duke of Burgundy agreed to the terms of the Treaty of Troyes. For several years Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, had been engaging in short, local truces with England’s enemy Charles, the Dauphin of France. In 1434 Pope Eugenius IV and the Council of Basle had recognized the Dauphin as King Charles VII, and Joan of Arc had facilitated his coronation in 1429. Early in 1435 Duke Philip and King Charles agreed to a conference of peace to meet in the Burgundian city of Arras in the summer to which English and papal delegates would be invited. Radcliffe attended the gathering of the Order of the Garter in 1435, and soon after Sir John, now being termed a knight banneret, was commissioned to go to Arras to treat for peace and to take 500 marks with him, and was promised £100 for the journey.159 His appointment undoubtedly rested upon his familiarity with the military situation in France as seneschal of Aquitaine. The canon lawyer William Lyndwood, keeper of the Privy Seal and future bishop of St David’s, was appointed along with Radcliffe.160 Radcliffe and Lyndwood led the advance party to Arras, but their role in the negotiations there is unknown.161 Radcliffe’s appointment as ambassador ran from 3 June until 15 September.162 The Congress of Arras was a magnificently staged event hosted by the duke of Burgundy, and it had dire results for the English. The diplomacy did not unfold at all favorably and the English ambassadors departed indignantly from Arras on 6 September. With the departure of the English, King Charles and Duke Philip were left to finalize their own terms for peace, and the resulting Treaty of Arras was a Franco-Burgundian alliance that replaced the earlier Anglo-Burgundian one. Duke Philip’s oath to support the Treaty of Troyes was nullified by ecclesiastical authority. The general English opinion was outrage at the perceived perfidy of the duke of Burgundy. As if the defection of a major ally were not a profoundly serious blow, the English also at this point lost one of their most able soldiers and administrators. John, duke of Bedford, had been unable to go to Arras because of failing health, and he died in Rouen a few days after the 159 160

161 162

Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 112; Rymer, Foedera, 10: 614; CPR (1429–1436), pp. 461, 465. A. C. Reeves, “The Careers of William Lyndwood,” in Documenting the Past: Essays in Medieval History presented to George Peddy Cuttino, ed. J. S. Hamilton and Patricia. J. Bradley (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 208–11. Joycelyne Gledhill Dickinson, The Congress of Arras, 1435 (Oxford, 1955), pp. 32, 44. CPR (1436–1441), p. 542.



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English withdrew from Arras. Bedford had served ably as regent of the continental lands of the minor Henry VI, and had also been captain of Calais. How did Radcliffe react to the defection of Burgundy? Did he stand with Humphrey of Gloucester and others who pressed for a continuing war effort? Or did he conclude that the financial costs of continuing war and the holding of conquered lands were not sustainable? Radcliffe’s actions suggest that he continued in his devotion to a policy of military action while also keeping a close eye on his own best interest and the pursuit of debts owed him by the government. In the aftermath of the Congress of Arras, English strategic attention was directed toward Calais and the expectation that it would be attacked by the duke of Burgundy. On another international front, Radcliffe was appointed in March 1436 to be part of a conference with ambassadors from Prussia and the Hanseatic League, but no meeting took place.163 Radcliffe would likely have missed any such meeting, for he had taken up another assignment. Records of the Order of the Garter indicate that Radcliffe was present for the gathering of the fellowship in 1436.164 It is, however, more than unlikely that Radcliffe was at Windsor for a convivial ceremony that April. That he had returned to England after the Congress of Arras is apparent because on 13 February 1436 he obtained letters of attorney in anticipation of departing the kingdom.165 His destination would be militarized Calais rather than ceremonial Windsor. In Normandy, Dieppe had fallen to the French before the end of 1435, as in January 1436 did Harfleur, which Radcliffe had helped to capture in 1415. The English garrison in Paris surrendered to French forces in April.166 Calais was an obvious future target. In the decades following its capture by Edward III in 1347, Calais had become an English town across the English Channel, and was of vital importance to the commercial interests of English merchants, to cultural and diplomatic exchanges, and to strategic military concerns. Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, was appointed captain of Calais in October 1435 in the place of his late brother, the duke of Bedford. By the middle of March 1436, Sir John Radcliffe had been appointed Gloucester’s lieutenant to prepare the town for the expected Burgundian attack.167 That same month Duke Philip of Burgundy addressed a meeting in Ghent, attended by an English spy, during which Philip described his intentions to raise a substantial army for the capture of Calais. The English had in fact already been making military preparations for the security of Calais months before knowledge reached the English government of Duke Philip’s announcements in Ghent.

163 164 165 166 167

DKR XLVIII, p. 310; T. H. Lloyd, England and the German Hanse, 1157–1611 (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 145–46. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 115. DKR XLVIII, p. 310. David Grummitt, The Calais Garrison: War and Military Service in England, 1436–1558 (Woodbridge, 2008), p. 21. Griffiths, Henry VI, p. 202.

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The king’s council energetically moved to obtain men and resources for the defense of Calais, seconded by a grant of taxes by parliament and a clerical tenth granted by the convocation of the clergy.168 In Calais, the garrison and townsfolk under the leadership of Radcliffe, the mayor, and others made preparations to defend against an attack. According to the anonymous author of the Brut chronicle, who was possibly an eye-witness to events in Calais, a broad dike was constructed on the south side of Calais, while bulwarks of earth were erected at the Boulogne Gate, at the postern near the Prince’s Inn, and at a corner of Calais castle outside the town, and a bulwark of brick was completed at Milkgate.169 The walls, towers, and dikes of the town were further fortified, and gun loops were modified for improved shooting. The Brut chronicler also relates that on St George’s Day (23 April) “for a sport”170 Radcliffe had the day watch sound a false alarm signaling that a Burgundian attack was eminent. It cannot have been a joke. Radcliffe was testing the readiness of the garrison and inhabitants of Calais for the expected attack. One can only imagine the conversations, evaluations, and preparations that followed Radcliffe’s preparedness drill. After Easter, a reinforcing army, supplementing that of Radcliffe, arrived from England under the command of Edmund Beaufort, count of Mortain. Mortain soon led a plundering raid against Boulogne, and then another into western Flanders, collecting cattle and victuals in anticipation of a siege of Calais. When King Henry heard of Mortain’s exploits, he added Mortain to the Order of the Garter.171 Roger, Lord Camoys, who had arrived in Calais with Mortain, led a third raid that reached Ardres.172 Meanwhile, Duke Philip had been gathering an impressive army and the largest artillery train he had ever mustered for his assault upon Calais. Philip had also been making preparations for a blockade of Calais by sea, but it was an instance of too little being done too late, and supply by sea from England to Calais was never interrupted.173 By the end of June, the Burgundian army had arrived at the border, or march, of Calais. The outlying castle at Oye was besieged by Philip’s army; it fell on 28 June and was completely destroyed.174 Another Burgundian success was the surrender of the small fortress at Marke on 8 July, and soon after the fortresses at Ballingham, south of Calais, and Sandegate, on the coast west of Calais, also surrendered. The fortress at Guines, southwest of Calais, did not surrender in spite of bombardment. Philip’s army set siege to Calais on 22 July, but with the harbor still open the siege had little chance of success. The fleet that was to block Calais harbor did not arrive until 25 July, and it remained only two days 168 169

170 171 172 173 174

Ibid., p. 203. Quoted in Susan Rose, Calais: An English Town in France, 1347–1558 (Woodbridge, 2008), p. 66; and in Richard Vaughan, Philip the Good (London, 1970), p. 76. Grummitt, Calais Garrison, p. 26. Quoted in Vaughan, Philip the Good, p. 76. Rose, Calais, pp. 66–7. Grummitt, Calais Garrison, p. 25; Vaughan, Philip the Good, p. 77. Grummitt, Calais Garrison, pp. 22–5. Rose, Calais, pp. 69–70; Vaughan, Philip the Good, p. 79. Grummitt, Calais Garrison, pp. 25–6.



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before sailing away. Philip was well aware that in England a substantial relief force under Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, was being readied. Throughout these events, it must be presumed that Radcliffe remained in his position of command in Calais. The English vigorously defended Calais, and there were frequent sallies from the town to frustrate the efforts of the besiegers.175 There were also, to the advantage of the besieged, disagreements among the contingents in Duke Philip’s army, between the Picards and the Flemings, and amongst the Flemings themselves. The men of Ghent fired their guns at the town, but with little effect because of the counter-fire from the besieged. One shot even went through Duke Philip’s tent, causing him to set up camp in a different location. On 26 July the contingent of Philip’s army made up of men from Bruges attacked the Boulogne Gate. Defenders emerged from Calais to fight off the Brugeois, who were also ambushed by a force led by Lord Camoys. When the Brugeois retreated, they were mocked and derided by soldiers from Ghent. Two days later, a sortie emerged from Calais to attack a wooden siege tower on wheels that had been moved to the west side of the town. The tower was guarded by several hundred Flemings, many of whom were killed or captured in the neutralizing of the tower. The anonymous chronicler of the Benedictine house at Bury St Edmunds tells us that the sortie against the siege tower was led by Sir John Radcliffe.176 In telling of the destruction of the siege tower, the Bury chronicler praised Radcliffe as “miles famossissimus.”177 After some three decades as a soldieradministrator and as a member of the Order of the Garter, calling Sir John a “most famous knight” seems only appropriate. His actions at Calais can only have enhanced his reputation. It appears that the successful attack on the siege tower, together with the failure of the naval blockade, took the heart out of the besiegers. Just hours after the capture of the tower, an advance force of the English relief army arrived under the command of Lionel, Lord Wells. Wells and his men arrived at night and with enough noise that the Ghentenaars on the east side of town thought that Gloucester and his army had come, and they abandoned the siege leaving behind guns and most of their supplies. When morning came on Sunday, 29 July, the Bruges contingent on the south side of Calais saw that the men of Ghent had departed, and they did the same. On Saturday or Sunday, Duke Philip also took flight from the debacle of his failed six-day siege. Duke Humphrey and his relief army arrived in Calais on 2 August to find that the siege he had come to raise had already collapsed. The lifting of the siege of Calais resulted in great rejoicing in England and the composition of numerous songs, poems, and chronicle accounts expressing delight in an English triumph

175 176

177

What follows is based upon Grummitt, Calais Garrison, pp. 26–8. J. A. Doig, “A New Source for the Siege of Calais in 1436,” English Historical Review 110 (1995), 408, 415–16. Duke Humphrey was held in high regard at Bury St Edmunds, and the lauding of Radcliffe could possibly be seen as a compliment to Humphrey. Ibid., p. 415.

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and abuse of England’s enemies.178 On 6 August Duke Humphrey set off on a savage eleven-day chevauchée into Flanders, and had himself proclaimed count of Flanders at the village of Poperinge before burning it to the ground. Humphrey left the count of Mortain in command at Calais when he launched his raid into western Flanders,179 which raises the suspicion that Sir John Radcliffe was a participant in the chevauchée. Duke Humphrey returned to England soon after his expedition, arriving on 24 August. Radcliffe may have returned to England around the time Gloucester did, and Radcliffe’s term as seneschal of Guyenne came officially to an end on 28 October 1436, having lasted more than thirteen years.180 The castle at Fronsac was given into the care of the constable there. How long Radcliffe remained away from England after the rescue of Calais is uncertain. Auditors were appointed in November to check the accounts of those officials under Radcliffe’s supervision as chamberlain of North Wales,181 but he need not have been in the kingdom for that process. In March 1437 Radcliffe, his fellow Garter Knight Sir John Fastolf, and John Winter were granted a Herefordshire manor for the minority of John Burley, son and heir of Alice, the late wife and widow of Sir Richard Arundel.182 Radcliffe missed the Garter feast in 1437 because he was at Westminster with the king rather than at Windsor or out of the kingdom.183 The long episode of Radcliffe’s career devoted to holding ground in Gascony was winding down. In July 1437 some landed resources that had been enjoyed by Radcliffe in Gascony were passed into the keeping of Bérard de Montferrand, lord of Gassac.184 The last services Radcliffe provided for the government were in England. In March 1438 he was appointed to a commission to look into suspected evasions of customs payments in the county of Norfolk.185 The following May, having attended the Garter feast of 1438,186 Radcliffe was appointed to a commission to look into the lands, goods, and chattels of Ralph Garveys, a Norfolk esquire, who had been indicted and was appearing on 6 February before the king’s justice in Westminster Hall when he caused a great uproar by punching (with his right fist) the face of the deputy of John, duke of Norfolk and marshal of the 178

179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186

See, for example, J. A. Doig, “Propaganda, Public Opinion and the Siege of Calais in 1436,” in Crown, Government and People in the Fifteenth Century, ed. Rowena E. Archer (Stroud, 1995), pp. 98–105; C. L. Kingsford, English Historical Literature in the Fifteenth Century (Oxford, 1913), pp. 3, 125, 240–41, 321, 352; Roger Nicholson, “Battle Lines: The Poetry of Partisanship in Mid-Fifteenth-Century England,” in Personalities and Perspectives of Fifteenth-Century England, ed. A. C. Reeves (Tempe, 2012), pp. 89–105; and V. J. Scattergood, Politics and Poetry in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1970), pp. 83–96, 151–52. Grummitt, Calais Garrison, p. 30. Vale, English Gascony, p. 105. A letter patent records the end of Radcliffe’s term as 6 November 1436: CPR (1436–1441), p. 542. Griffiths, Henry VI, pp. 205–6. CPR (1436–1441), p. 30. CFR (1430–1437), pp. 325–26. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 118. CCR (1435–1441), pp. 90–1. CPR (1436–1441), p. 146. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 119.



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Marshalsea of the court of King’s Bench.187 Less exciting but more profitable was the grant in February 1439 to Radcliffe and two other men of the custody and marriage of the minor heir of the late Sir Edmund Benstead.188 The custody of a minor heir is a reminder of the debts owed to Radcliffe by the Crown. These debts were reviewed in March 1439, and were found to be in the amount of £1,100 3s. 4 1/2d.189 Satisfaction was once again promised on anticipated future customs revenue to be collected at the ports of Plymouth, Fowey, Exeter, Dartmouth, Poole, and Bridgewater, with further sums to be delivered by the current chamberlain of North Wales and by the receiver of the lordship of Chirk and Chirklands. Radcliffe was a visible figure as the debts to him were being considered, and he found himself appointed to a commission to be a justice of gaol delivery at Ipswich, and to be a commissioner to raise a loan for the king in Norfolk.190 He also attended the annual gathering of members of the Order of the Garter in 1439.191 In the following summer he was appointed to a commission for Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridgeshire to seek information on suspected evasion of customs payments and any other possible source of royal revenue, be it escaped felons, wardships, forfeitures, false weights and measures, wastes of dower lands, military deserters, or men worth £40 a year in land who had not taken up knighthood.192 The note of fiscal desperation on the part of the government sounds clearly in the wording of this particular commission. Nearly a year later, in June 1440, Radcliffe was appointed to yet another commission to look into evasions of the payment of customs obligations.193 The winter of 1440–41 was to be Radcliffe’s last. A note among the Garter records states that he died after St. Chad’s Day (2 March) 1441, while the chancery writ of diem clausit extremum ordering an inquiry in Norfolk concerning assorted lands held at the time of his death was issued on 27 March and one for Cambridgeshire was issued on 10 May.194 The inquisition in the county of Norfolk recorded Radcliffe’s death as occurring on 26 February, while that in Cambridgeshire gave the date as 4 March.195 He was buried in the choir of Attleborough church. For all his years of service, whatever day he died, Radcliffe 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195

CPR (1436–1441), p. 198; Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous (Chancery), Volume VIII, 1422–1485 (London, 2003), pp. 56–7. CFR (1437–1445), p. 70. CPR (1436–1441), p. 247. CPR (1436–1441), pp. 249, 269. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 121. CPR (1436–1441), p. 315. CPR (1436–1441), p. 413. Anstis, Register of the Garter, 1: 121; CFR (1437–1445), p. 165. Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem and other Analogous Documents preserved in the Public Record Office, Volume XXV, 16 to 20 Henry VI (1437–1442), ed. Claire Noble (London and Woodbridge, 2009), items 493, 494. Inquisitions post mortem do not offer a complete picture of an individual’s wealth. In the county of Norfolk, Radcliffe held from the king or others the manors of Summerfield and Docking (with combined annual value of £8) and the manor and advowson of Billingford (10 marks). He was also noted as being possessed of the manor of Ryston (20 marks annual value), the manor of Thurling (10 marks), and the manor

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died a creditor of the Crown. The government was slipping ever deeper into debt, and Radcliffe’s situation was a sad demonstration of that process. At least Radcliffe did not have to live to be disappointed by the loss of Normandy and Gascony, lands that he had spent a military career fighting to capture or to hold for his kings. It was left to Radcliffe’s executors, his son Thomas and Robert Lethum, to attempt the collection of debts from the Crown. It was calculated in May 1441 that Radcliffe was still owed £7,015 6s. 3/4d. for his services between 1423 and 1436 as seneschal of Guyenne and captain and constable of Fronsac, and another £68 for his embassy to Arras in 1435.196 His executors were promised, as Radcliffe had been promised, that the debts would be paid out of the customs and subsidies of the ports of Poole, Melcombe, Exeter, Dartmouth, Plymouth, Fowey, and Bridgewater, and the customers in the respective ports were duly notified that Radcliffe’s executors were to be paid.197 Other matters of Radcliffe’s estate were settled in due course. The descent of the manor of Billingford in Norfolk had been arranged without a proper royal license, but the payment of a fine settled the designated heirs, including Thomas Radcliffe, in possession.198 Radcliffe’s widow, Katherine, had to pay a fine of £10 to obtain possession of the Norfolk manors of Summerfield and Docking, while the manors of East Ruston and Thurning were readily delivered to her.199 A final item was the passing of the Cambridgeshire manors of Newenham and Foxton, in which Radcliffe had enjoyed a life-tenure in right of his first wife, Cecily, to Anne, the heiress of the Herling family of Cecily’s first marriage.200 Thus the long and faithful career of a Garter Knight in the service of the three kings of the Lancastrian dynasty ended with legal disposition of estates and yet more promises of forthcoming payment of debts. The prospects for settlement were not good, for the Crown sank ever more deeply into debt and by the late 1440s “was well and truly bankrupt.”201 That most famous knight’s devotion to the military policies of his kings brought him prestige but left him, like England’s government, hanging over a financial precipice. Finance must not, however, be allowed to overshadow an impressive career of a soldier-administrator. Radcliffe participated unreproached in battles and sieges at Shrewsbury, near Usk, and at Harfleur, Agincourt, Valmont, Caen, Bazas, and Calais. This most famous knight doubtless participated in a great many unrecorded military patrols and raids, particularly in Henry V’s last campaign that began in 1417. Radcliffe held castle commands at Evreux, Fronsac, and Bordeaux. He served on local commissions in England, and twice sat in the

196 197 198 199 200 201

of Attleburgh (20 marks). In Cambridgeshire were noted Sir John’s holdings of the manors of Newenham (annual value of 10 marks) and Foxton (£5). CPR (1436–1441), p. 542; CCR (1435–1441), pp. 416–17. CCR (1435–1441), pp. 423–24. CPR (1436–1441), p. 544; CCR (1435–1441), p. 414. CPR (1436–1441), p. 563; CCR (1435–1441), p. 424. CCR (1441–1447), p. 10. Griffiths, Henry VI, p. 394.



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Commons. It is significant as well that Sir John Radcliffe of Attleborough held military and administrative posts in Ireland, Normandy, and Gascony, where he was seneschal from 1423 until 1436. His career points to a man with an impressive physical constitution and solid managerial skills. Radcliffe was an exemplar of military knighthood as well as of knighthood in service to the Crown.

10 Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 Randall Moffett

Introduction The purpose of this study is to examine the military schemes of defense that were employed in the town of Southampton during the late medieval period, 1300–1500. In many ways this is the most basic and vital of the varied roles Southampton had as a military entity. If the town was incapable of protecting its own possessions and dependencies, it would be unable to fulfill its other military roles. Moreover, if the town was unable to defend the area it was expected to, that would represent a major vulnerability in the region and ultimately the kingdom. If, on the other hand, the townsmen of Southampton were able to fulfill this responsibility of self-protection, that would not only maintain their day-to-day activities but would also give the kingdom an important defense. The protection of Southampton was actually a multi-tiered system of various parties and individuals. The townspeople of Southampton managed their own defense in two primary methods. First they created various plans to organize themselves for conflict, second they participated in the gathering and control of information. The town also fitted into a wider defense structure in the kingdom with various groups and individuals supporting it in this endeavor. This organization was at one point the basis of English defense though many questions remain unanswered. How did these defensive schemes develop in Southampton? Were these schemes created in response to or in preparation for dangers posed to the town? How did the town fit into a larger context of defense in the locality, the region and the kingdom? What role did Southampton play in the acquisition of military information? How was this information employed by the town for its own protection and that of others? How did outside forces, such as the king, other towns and others fit into Southampton’s defense scheme? How were these defense schemes organized and executed? In what ways did the townspeople of Southampton and other individuals gather and employ military information as part of these defensive schemes? Importance of Southampton Vital to understanding Southampton’s need for a defined plan of action for protection is an appreciation of the medieval town, its location and general

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Figure 1: Southampton

organization. Susan Rose said of medieval Southampton, “Southampton’s natural advantages as a port have always underlain the town’s growth and its prosperity.”1 The town of Southampton is located almost exactly in the middle of the southern coast of England, between where the rivers Test and Itchen meet first Southampton Water and then the Solent.2 With a deep, well protected harbor shielded by the Isle of Wight and a double tide daily allowing extra departures, the town of Southampton was ideally located for maritime activity.3 These features helped Southampton become one of the leading commercial ports of medieval England. Medieval Southampton was an important town to the kingdom, not only economically, politically and culturally, but militarily as well. In this context, it is important to remember that in principle, English towns were responsible for providing their own defense.4 The king expected every man in the area to 1 2 3 4

Susan Rose, Southampton and the Navy in the Age of Henry V, Hampshire Papers (Winchester, 1998), p. 1. See Figure 1. Rose, Southampton and the Navy, p. 2. Southampton Terrier of 1454, ed. Lawrence Arthur Burgess (London, 1976), p. 25; Caroline M. Barron, “London 1300–1540,” in Cambridge Urban History of Britain, ed. David Palliser (New York, 2000), p. 395.



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Figure 2: Southampton and surroundings

arm himself according to his station in life. If an enemy landed, this group was expected to fight them.5 As Lorraine Attreed states, “Medieval English kings expected their urban subjects to assist in the defence of the realm, with their bodies as well as their supplies.”6 This force was made up of all strata of society from the wealthy to the poor.7 Towns like Southampton were further expected to provide fortifications in addition to the manpower required of them.8 The town also needed to organize its men effectively, as fortifications are worth little if poorly defended. Locations of great importance to the kingdom’s defense, such as Southampton, were often reinforced by men from outside the locality. Not only men from adjacent towns such as Winchester and Portsmouth, but even those from farther off in Oxfordshire, Berkshire and Wiltshire, were obliged to participate in the town’s protection.9

5 6 7 8 9

Statutes of the Realm 1 (London, 1963), p. 259. Lorraine Attreed, The King’s Towns: Identity and Survival in Late Medieval English Boroughs (New York, 2001), p. 181. Calendar of Patent Rolls of Edward III, 1367–1370 (hereafter CPR), p. 229. CPR (1367–1370), p. 229. Calendar of Close Rolls of Edward III, 1360–1364 (hereafter CCR), pp. 97–8; CCR (1368– 1374), p. 18.

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The importance of Southampton in a military context has many facets. On a large scale Southampton was part of a network of defense systems locally, regionally and throughout the realm. Southampton’s location in particular, nearly at the middle of the southern coast of England, made it especially important.10 The town also provided men, equipment and ships for the king’s many wars. Southampton’s military organization was important to itself: the town was its own primary guardian and this required planning and administration to ensure success. These military duties complemented other roles the town had, socially, culturally, economically and otherwise. These activities also demonstrate the place the individual townsman had in a larger network of obligations and duties. Just as towns played a variety of roles, so, too, did their inhabitants. While the theme of medieval English urban military involvement has been examined in other studies, these largely relate to very specific facets such as the provision of ships and military financing. Specific focus on civic defense plans demonstrates a key aspect of town military obligation as part of a local to national level. In fact, medieval English towns and cities in general have not received sufficient attention in regard to their military defensive schemes, which limits our full understanding of their contribution to military activity. Southampton is no exception as most of current scholarship on the town’s military structure is based on a few well known documents, such as the Terrier of 1454. While the Terrier is a vital document for understanding this topic, it is only one of more than a half-dozen civic documents that describe this program. Civic Government By the late Middle Ages Southampton had a well developed civic government. This institution was vital to Southampton’s military activity. The most powerful position in the governance of Southampton was that of mayor, first appearing in 1217.11 One right the mayor possessed that was central to the town militarily was the authority to raise the posse comitatus, the array to arms of the townsmen.12 The next most powerful member was the town steward who was responsible for keeping the town’s financial accounts.13 Directly below the mayor and steward were the town aldermen.14 There was an alderman for each of the five official wards and Portswood, a town suburb.15 The aldermen were charged to keep order, enforce the town ordinances and protect and lead their wards in 10 11 12 13 14 15

See Figures 1 and 2. The Book of Remembrance of Southampton, 1440–1620 and 1303–1518, ed. Harry W. Gidden 2 vols., Southampton Record Society, 27–28 (Southampton, 1927–28), 1: vii. Ibid., 1: xi. H. W. Gidden, “Introduction,” in Steward Book of Southampton 1428–1434, ed. Harry W. Gidden, Southampton Record Society, 35 (Southampton, 1935), p. xiii. Colin Platt, Medieval Southampton: The Port and Trading Community, A.D. 1000–1600 (London, 1973), p. 15. Oak Book of Southampton c. 1300 (hereafter Oak Book), ed. P. Struder, Southampton Record Society 10 (Southampton, 1910), pp. 55–9.



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conflict, especially enacting the defensive schemes they had created.16 Other offices in the town were the bailiffs and sergeants. According to the Stewards’ Books, there appear to have been four town sergeants at any given time. 17 The bailiffs and sergeants worked with the various aldermen in keeping the peace as well as other town business.18 By the third decade of the fifteenth century, as firearms came to play a prominent part in the town defenses, a new office was created, that of town gunner. 19 As the title implies he was charged with keeping the town guns and related equipment in good condition and was to be able to employ them. After 1447, when Southampton became a county in its own right, the town of Southampton also gained the right to elect its own sheriff.20 The town sheriff was involved in town policing and defense as well as raising men to arms over all Southampton’s possessions, as the county sheriff had done before, but in regard to the town and its own liberties.21 All these leaders played a part in administration and command in the town’s military activities. From the time of Henry II the guild of Southampton began to acquire rights from the king such as legal privileges, tax exemptions and freedom from tolls, for payment of a fee farm of £200.22 Southampton was also given freedom from the maritime authority of the Cinque Ports by Henry III, the Cinque Ports having until this time had legal, economic and military rights over the ports of England.23 The area in which Southampton exercised its authority was fairly substantial, including most of the New Forest all the way to Portsmouth.24 It also increased the area that the town was required to protect: from the New Forest in the west to Portsmouth in the east. This area remained little changed until the 1490s when the boundary in the east was pushed back to the Hamble River, around the time Henry VII made Portsmouth his main naval base and removed it from Southamptons authority.25 The Defense Schemes of Southampton One important aspect of Southampton’s military history is the fact that the town, from at least the late thirteenth century, had detailed plans for its defense in 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Ibid. Steward Book of Southampton 1428–1434, p. 15. Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 55. Steward Book of Southampton 1428–1434, p. xv. The Charters of Southampton, Vol. 1: 1199–1480, ed. Harry W. Gidden, The Southampton Record Society, 7 (Southampton, 1909), p. xv; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 166. Charters of Southampton, p. xv. Ibid., p. vi. Ibid., p. 5; Speed’s History of Southampton, ed. Elinor R. Aubrey, Southampton Record Society, 8 (Southampton: 1909) p. 43. Charters, pp. 3, 5, 7; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 15; See Figure 2. Steward Book of Southampton 1492–1493 and the Terrier of 1495, ed. Anne Thick, Southampton Record Series, 38 (Southampton, 1995), p. 65; David Loades, “The Tudor Navy: An Administrative, Political and Military History,” in Studies in Naval History (Cambridge, 1992), p. 2.

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war and peace.26 These schemes designated specific responsibilities, usually to a section of the town, or ward, with the manpower and leadership needed to fulfill these duties. These preparations, if fulfilled, would give the town cohesion in efforts to repel an enemy force. This military organization divided the town into a number of smaller geographic areas, each with the manpower and leadership to protect the area and the fortifications assigned to them. While clearly not infallible it provided clear direction and order for the townsmen in case of attack. The Fourteenth Century The oldest recorded material on the organized plan of defense for the town is from the Oak Book of Southampton, which contains the ordinances of the town Guild Merchant.27 This account, written c. 1300, identifies the defense structure of the town that was the system that continued to be used for hundreds of years afterwards and probably was old at the time it was written down.28 The Guild Merchant’s scheme of defense was the town government’s approach to organize the townsmen into a more efficient and defensive body. This scheme would have been learned and enforced by the town officials for their defense. Article 45 begins this scheme stating that the town aldermen were to be “guardians of the streets,” and were required to swear to keep the king’s peace.29 The king’s peace was an all-encompassing statute that prohibited everything from local disturbances to full-scale warfare, hence the aldermen’s position as “guardians of the streets” was quite a large responsibility. In the event of conflict these men were responsible for military leadership and activity. Aldermen had a complete list of names of “all” who were in their wards, which they were to update once a month.30 This list acted as a muster roll in times of attack or other need, as it gave a clear idea of whom the leadership could rely upon and call into service, similar to the procedure for any disturbance of the peace, as related in Article 46.31 The men of the wards were required to defend the town and its defenses in the event of an assault.32 The aldermen during their monthly review of their wards were also to ensure that all “the points and ordinances made for their ward be well kept” and if anything was amiss they were to remedy it.33 In this way the town was able to 26

27 28 29 30 31 32 33

Oak Book, pp. 55–9, 132, 141; Book of Remembrance 1440–1620, p. 50; The Sign Manuals and Letters Patent of Southampton to 1422, ed. Harry W. Gidden, Southampton Record Society (Southampton, 1919), pp. 47, 53, 55. See Appendix – Town Ordinances related to Town Defenses in the Oak Book of Southampton, c. 1300; Oak Book, Introduction. Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 16. See Figure 3; Oak Book, p. 55. Oak Book, p. 55. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.



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Figure 3: Wards of Southampton c. 1300 (edited by author, original map from Southampton Terrier)

repair possible weaknesses in its defense, including fortifications and manpower. With such detail as is found in Article 45 it is clear that the town government knew of the responsibility it bore not just to the town but also to the king. The aldermen, guardians of the street, were the captains of their wards in protecting them from attack and danger. The defense scheme continues with Article 46, where the specific boundaries of the wards are given34 (see Figure 3). The first ward was an area from “North Gate” or Bargate to “East Gate” down to the corner houses of Richard de la Prise and John de la Bolehusse.35 Since the article fails to name this ward it will be referred to as the North Ward. This ward included both sides of the street, indicating the residents were responsible to protect all the northern fortifications and part of the eastern wall of the town. If the North Ward terminated at 34 35

Ibid. Ibid.

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Eastgate, only one-eighth of the east wall was included. However, if the whole area from the corner houses mentioned to the north wall was included, the North Ward covered one-third of it.36 A small section of the western waterfront was also along its boundaries, almost certainly another of their responsibilities. Article 46 reiterates the need to have a current list of all men in the ward, to enforce the king’s peace and the town ordinances, and monitor all foreigners staying in the town. 37 The North Ward was also instructed to have two aldermen instated as guardians.38 The next ward, as defined in Article 48,39 encompassed the area from the same two corner houses mentioned in the North Ward, the houses of Richard de la Prise and John de la Bolehusse, to Newtown street outside the town wall to the east and then to the sea southward.40 This ward had two aldermen as guardians as well.41 It seems probable that this ward, which shall be referred to as the East Ward, was to protect the remaining two-thirds to seven-eighths of the east wall, depending on the length that the North Ward guarded, and a small area of the southern shore along its boundary.42 These two aldermen were also responsible for the protection of Newtown, the suburb immediately outside the town walls to the east.43 Article 49 lays out the area of the Centre Ward. This ward ran the length of French Street including both sides of this major thoroughfare.44 It began north of French Street from the corner of Richard de la Prise’s house and the house opposite of “Henry Brya,” and continued to the sea.45 This ward, like the two before it, had two aldermen as guardians.46 To the north of the Centre Ward was a small section of the castle and to the east and west it was bounded by neighboring wards. Only to the south was this ward open to the sea.47 This ward’s boundaries suggest it was charged with the protection of the southern shore, though how much of its length is unspecified. Considering the high density of people living along a primary thoroughfare in the town is it highly probable much of the defense of the southern shore was placed in their keeping. This is supported by later civic documents of this nature that assign them this role. Article 50 defines a fourth ward that was bounded by the castle in the north, and by the sea to the south and west.48 It included properties on both sides of 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

p. 57. pp. 55–7. p. 57. p. 59.



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Bull Street.49 This ward would have been responsible for a great deal of the west and perhaps part of the southern waterfront, including the western quay. As with the other wards inside the walls, this ward had two guardians.50 Once more no name is given for this ward in Article 50 so it will be called the West Ward. The last ward that is listed was completely outside the town walls and will be referred to as the Outer Ward, as it is not named in the Oak Book.51 This ward was north of North Gate (Bargate) and was assigned three aldermen to act as guardians.52 The need for more leadership in this division was indicative of the large area the ward covered. 53 As it was outside the town fortifications it is hard to know what part the Outer Ward played in the town defense, though it is unlikely that its residents would not have been required to help at least in their own protection. These geographical areas, outside and inside the walls, were created for the security of Southampton by making smaller, more effective areas of administration. Article 47 states that each ward was required to provide men to keep the town watches at all times.54 These institutions of the town had more routine functions outside of war, the most common aspect probably being local law enforcement.55 An obvious example of the day-to-day employment of this system was the arrest of malefactors and “evil doers” in the town.56 As these functions lay within a similar spectrum in medieval civic activity, these same men were required to arrest, police, or protect the wards from armed attackers.57 As can be seen by fines issued in Southampton, those neglecting their watch would be punished fiscally for failing to be present or for sleeping on watch.58 At least two aldermen were given charge of each ward’s defense and leadership, but these men did not fulfill these duties alone.59 Manpower was provided, according to Article 47, with men scheduled by the civic government to keep the watches at all times.60 Some of the town fortifications appear in specific wards’ watches, so it can be assumed that these structures were in their charge.61 Unfortunately these accounts do not mention all the defensive structures that existed at the time, as they typically only name those used as boundaries of the wards. By 1300 there

49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 57. Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 16. Oak Book, pp. 55–9. Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 16. The Book of Fines: The Annual Accounts of the Mayors of Southampton Volume One 1488– 1540, ed. Cheryl Butler, Southampton Record Series, 41 (Southampton, 2007), p. 10. Oak Book, p. 55. Ibid., p. 57. Ibid., pp. 55, 59.

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were four wards, which remained, in essence, the same throughout the entire period. 62 It is clear that the town fortifications were incomplete at that time as the account states some boundaries as being “the sea.”63 This town defense scheme shows that the castle was outside the responsibilities of the town as it was used as a boundary but no ward or wards were assigned to it.64 The Centre Ward and the West Ward had no significant fortifications in their boundaries at the time the Oak Book account was being compiled in the late thirteenth century.65 This indicates they were not protecting a segment of fortifications, but instead protected the waterfront, a difficult charge without major defenses. Two wards, the Outer Ward and East Ward, encompass places outside the walls, indicating they were responsible for the protection of areas outside the town walls.66 The men of the East Ward who lived without the walls were probably involved in the defense of the east town wall, along with those of the ward within the walls. The Outer Ward possibly helped defend the north wall along with the North Ward, which can be inferred as they were located beside this fortification. Many of these assumptions are given credibility by the fact that in the Southampton Terrier of 1454 the boundaries of these wards had not been altered greatly. If the scheme changed little between 1300 and 1454 then the North Ward’s defense of the east wall stopped at East Gate with the East Ward keeping the remaining east wall. The wards that included fortifications in the 1300 scheme were to continue guarding them under the Terrier of 1454. Those that were without defenses, such as the Centre and West Wards, by 1454 included fortifications in their responsibilities. This indicates that they had protected that area before these structures were constructed and continued to do so thereafter.67 It is probable that part of the aldermen’s responsibility in keeping the king’s peace included making sure the men of their areas were armed and armored according to the king’s statutes.68 One example from Edward III’s reign ordered that all men “have weapons in their house, according to the quantity of their lands and goods, for the maintenance of peace according to the statute.” Further, these arms and armor were to be reviewed twice a year.69 The guardians, who reviewed the wards along with writing the names of all available men in each ward, therefore were to verify these men were equipped accordingly. In 1338 the French landed a devastating raid on the town of Southampton.70 While the exact reason for the town’s failure to repel the attack is arguable, it 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

Ibid. Ibid., p. 57. Ibid.. p. 59; Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 21. Oak Book, p. 59. Ibid., pp. 57–9. Southampton Terrier of 1454. Ibid., pp. 45, 55–7, 91; Statutes of the Realm 1, p. 259. Statutes of the Realm 1, p. 259. CPR (1338–1340), pp. 80–1, 149–50, 177, 179–80, 183–84, 237, 283, 286; CCR (1339–1341), pp. 101, 141 and 550–51; Platt, Medieval Southampton, pp. 107–8, 112.



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is clear that the town’s defensive scheme was not employed properly, as the townsmen were caught by surprise and/or fled from the enemy. After Southampton’s defeat, Edward III revoked all local civic authority and installed a royal keeper and a garrison to protect and govern the town.71 Over the next year Edward sent many keepers to the town with garrisons to enforce his wishes there.72 This keepership continued throughout the fourteenth century.73 While earlier keepers had broader powers, later they played more of a supportive, perhaps even advisory, military role. These later keepers retained power to array and compel the town in military matters, but were instructed to have the mayor’s assent and counsel on military matters and had limited or no civic powers.74 The authority of the royal keeper varied throughout the period. Because the town had failed to protect itself in 1338, the early keepers were given extensive authority; once the town had remedied this situation and improved its internal defense organization, the keepers’ authority diminished. Unfortunately there are no accounts containing a revised town defensive scheme or explaining the possible changes caused by the new war engines or garrisons that were introduced with the keepers. It can be assumed that the townsmen were still required to defend the town, as the keeper had the power to array them and often a rather small garrison accompanied him. It is probable that the town defensive scheme of 1300 was still employed, but with the keeper as chief military leader. The keeper would have placed the engines of war and his garrison where he deemed prudent though the bulk of defense was expected to be furnished by the townsmen. The town regained much of its authority over the span of a few years following the royal keeper’s first appointment in 1338, including military duties, though this royal officer or his representative stayed present to support them. The fact that the town scheme remained more or less intact through the fourteenth and even the fifteenth century indicates it was seen largely as successful, notwithstanding the disaster of 1338. Nonetheless, with the conclusion of the Hundred Years’ War Southampton’s defense scheme would receive an upgrade to counter’s the renewed threat to it from France. The Fifteenth Century In 1454 a detailed arrangement was written by the town leadership which appears to be unique in medieval England (see Figure 4).75 The Terrier of 1454 71 72

73 74 75

CPR (1338–1340), pp. 180, 275; Platt, Medieval Southampton, pp. 109–12. CPR (1338–1340), pp. 180, 275; CCR (1339–1341), pp. 166, 288, 304–05, 340; Calendar of Fine Rolls of Edward III (hereafter CFR), 1337–1347, p. 97; Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7; The Parliament Rolls of Medieval England 1275–1504, vol. 4, ed. Chris GivenWilson (London, 2006) pp. 108, 253; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 112. CPR (1367–1370), pp. 270, 303–4; CPR (1377–1381), pp. 4, 7, 84–5, 138–41, 311; CPR (1385–1389), pp. 177, 258; CPR (1392–1396), p. 90. CPR (1367–1370), pp. 270, 303–4; CPR (1377–1381), pp. 4, 7, 84–5, 138–41, 311; CPR (1385–1389), pp. 177, 258; CPR (1392–1396), p. 90. See Figure 4.

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Figure 4: Wards of Southampton c. 1454 (edited by author, original map from Southampton Terrier)

is so detailed that every “loop” of the defenses is assigned to a specific person or persons.76 The loops mentioned in the Terrier of 1454 were not solely arrowloops and gunports but clearly included the crenellation of the battlements. In this way every three to four feet would be theoretically provided with a defender. After the completion of the town wall in the second half of the fourteenth century, such improvement to the organizational structure may have been overdue by the mid fifteenth century. It may be that the former scheme was adequate until the renewed dangers posed by fresh French aggression as the loss of the Hundred Years’ War set in over the completion of the town fortifications. An example of just one of the five hundred or so listings is, “The tenement of William Soper, late of John Lymbourne, in which Gabriel Corbet lives: assigned the next two 76

The Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 12.



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loops there … 2 (loops).”77 Allocation of these loops could have been as little as half a loop for those dwelling in a cottage or occupying a garden plot, with several loops assigned for the larger tenements. This begs the question, if two men were to guard one loop, how this was done: perhaps they both were present, or alternated this post, or they provided one defender in their place. Considering the requirement of physical obligation at these loops it is probably one of the first two options. Those individuals listed who have multiple loops assigned to them must have had other men, perhaps their servants or tenants, employed in this responsibility as they could not effectively defend these alone.78 These townsmen were stationed in times of possible assault upon the town’s walls and inside and atop the towers.79 The Terrier was created from start to finish with the primary purpose of defining the already existing town model of defense, and specifically naming the positions of each person.80 The actual wording for many of the entries is, “Pro loupis in gardis murorum ville Suth’ assignatis” (Assigned to loops in the wards of the town of Southampton).81 While more detailed than the past systems, it describes a defense scheme that follows the same traditional method, in which sections of fortifications were protected by those living nearby. The largest change is that earlier schemes leave protection of a general area to the ward, whereas the Terrier designates individuals to a specific loop or loops. The custody of these specific loops also included maintenance of them, at least in being attentive to their condition.82 The Terrier of 1454 may include adjustments to the town’s defense scheme. For example, the area the Centre Ward was to defend in the south and southeast of the town had since 1300 been fortified with towers, walls and gates, particularly God’s House Tower and Friary Gate.83 This alteration was for a number of reasons. One was because after the raid of 1338 the southeast defenses of the town were greatly increased and strengthened, and thus needed a large number of men to keep them. In the 1300 scheme the Centre Ward had the shortest length of the town’s boundaries to defend of all the wards, yet it was a fairly large ward, so it seems sensible that new fortifications were placed in the care of the men of this ward.84 A small section of what had been in the East Ward appears to have become part of the Centre Ward, though the fortifications proceeded southward so that perhaps those that in the 1300 scheme had defended the same area.85 This ward then had three gates under its keep, including Watergate, a major entrance

77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

Ibid., p. 57. Ibid., pp. 8–9, 99. Ibid., p. 127. Ibid., pp. 38–9. Ibid. Ibid., p. 17. Oak Book, p. 57. Ibid. Ibid.

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of the town, God’s House Gate, and Friary Gate.86 When compared with the 1300 scheme, the change in the Terrier of 1454 is rather small, but it was important to the protection of the town’s southeast defenses. As the primary protection from a seaward attack it was vital these fortifications were well manned. The creation of this document was probably related to the loss of Aquitaine the year before as well as English Normandy. The new border of English lands had moved unsettlingly close to Southampton, the buffer zone that had existed in English France was no more. The town government perhaps deemed this detailed scheme necessary to reinvigorate the town to action.87 With the constant threat of invasion, especially after the loss of these lands, the town’s fear was growing. The attacks on the town from the French in the mid-1450s proved that this fear was not unfounded, and at that time the town successfully repelled a number of attacks. In 1457, for example, the steward of Southampton recorded there were several French attacks upon the town, these raids being unsuccessful.88 From 1473 we have a civic ordinance by William Overey, a man of great local importance and later mayor.89 This account is almost identical to the older ordinance of 1300.90 The names and locations are those of the c. 1300 scheme and the organization remained the same,91 as the town was still divided by wards and overseen by aldermen.92 This unfortunately leaves ambiguous how the town artillery was employed, since by this period the town had accumulated a decent number of firearms, perhaps in the thirties or more.93 Various contemporary records from the mid to late fifteenth century give detailed lists of locations where guns or other weapons were to be stored or positioned. This indicates that the many men assigned to such places would have needed training in the use of the firearms, though the newly rewritten scheme is silent on this.94 Later additions to town articles written in the fifteenth century continue to shed light on the development of the town defensive schemes.95 One article that was updated from its c. 1300 predecessor is Article 47.96 The ordinances of c. 1300 stated that the aldermen of the ward were to keep and be responsible for

86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94

95 96

See Figure 4. The Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 9. Steward Book of Southampton 1456–1457, ed. Barry N. D. Chinchen (Eastleigh, 1980), p. 24. See Appendix – Town Ordinances related to Town Defense in the Oak Book of Southampton, c. 1473. Oak Book, pp. 85–115; Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 17. Oak Book, pp. 55–9, 109–10. Ibid., p. 109. Steward Book of Southampton 1456–1457, p. 34. Steward Book of Southampton 1428–1434, p. 91; Steward Book of Southampton 1467–1468, p. 34; Letters of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, ed. R. C. Anderson, Southampton Record Society 22 (Southampton, 1921), p. 21. See Appendix – Town Ordinances related to Town Defense in the Oak Book of Southampton, c. 1478. Oak Book, pp. 57, 132.



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their ward.97 In the 1478 addition this was changed, as it now mentions constables as the highest authority in the protection of the ward, supported by beadles, both new offices in this capacity.98 It is possible that the aldermen or guardians of the street were these same constables since their positions are the same as before, with perhaps only the name changed. It is also possible, perhaps more so, that this position was split into a new office of constable, leaving the aldermen to other civic business. Unfortunately the position of constable appears rarely in other civic documents of this time so further assessment is difficult. It is clear, however, that by 1478 the heads of a ward, whether aldermen or constables, were assisted by beadles in their duties.99 Another difference between these defense schemes is the detail of how the watches were carried out. Article 47 of the c. 1300 ordinance states that aldermen were to ensure that wards “be well kept and wisely appointed in their ward.”100 While the meaning is clear, how this was to be carried out is not specified. An ordinance from 1478 states that the constables and their beadles “shall see that the watches be set in dew season, and that no Allien, Straunger, nor any unmarried man, under the age of 24 yeares, shalbe suffered to watche, nether vew the walles.”101 The “watch” was the guarding and patrolling of the walls while the “view” was the duty of ensuring the walls were in good repair. This newer Article 47 could indicate one of a number of occurrences or a mixture of them. It could be a trend to have more detail in the specific offices of the town, and/or it also could reflect growing distrust of foreigners, strangers and town youth. This trend affected a number of town ordinances and procedures, as can be seen by the increase in detail of the Terrier of 1454.102 Other details were given regarding the town watch at this time. The town watch was to have six men always watching within the walls at night.103 Two of these men were to always be upon the walls while the remaining four were to make rounds around the town itself, including stopping half the time to go up castle hill.104 This time spent on the castle hill was important because from this vantage point the watch was “to have good respect to the sea and every part of the town, for fire and other dangers.”105 In this way those inside the walls of Southampton were organized to keep the town safe from attack and other dangers. Outside the town walls a similar system was in place in St. Mary’s, Above Bar and Portswood.106 Clearly the town of Southampton was moving toward a more complex and detailed scheme of defense, perhaps learning from 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

p. 57. p. 132. p. 57. p. 132. pp. 55–9, 132. p. 141.

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past experience, finding that a more detailed plan left less room for error. The creation of new offices such as constables and beadles solely for town defense demonstrates the continued development and improvement. It is also possible that as town records became more detailed and hence we have clearer examples of the organization, officers and execution of these defensive plans while the actual system remained the same. We further see that by 1478 town watchmen were paid for their services “from all Halloween day to Candlemass, it is agreed that every watch man shall have for every night 3 pence; and afterward, till the feast of all saints, 2 pence.”107 The higher payment of the night watch probably reflected the greater duration and discomfort of working during the longest nights of the year. It may have been an innovation to pay the watch as the earlier ordinances make no mention of paying the watchmen. It is also possible that the watchmen had always been paid, but the recording of this fact was part of the movement towards more detailed ordinances. Whatever the reason this evidence shows this position was not simply a civic responsibility but could be paid employment. Every townsman was required to “be ready at the walls in proper person, he or a sufficient person, being no alien, for him, up on pain to lose twelve pence for every time making default.”108 Once more the military obligation of the townsmen themselves is apparent. It is also interesting to note the recurrent stipulation against foreigners that applied to the defenses of the town as well as watching the walls, apparently excluding foreigners from any military obligation in the town. The 1478 version of Article 47 indicates that the town leadership was careful to prescribe who was allowed to keep guard over the walls, also including that no unmarried man younger than twenty-four should keep town guard.109 This could have been in order to have more mature men on guard, less given to frivolity, but also could have been because the married men and older men would have had well established livelihoods that were tied to the town, which gave them more incentive to keep a good watch.110 Earlier in Southampton’s history, the townsmen continually distrusted outsiders.111 This could be for a similar reason: they were perceived as having little relation to the town compared with the more mature men and perhaps would not be trustworthy for its protection. It also might stem from fear that they might betray them to the attackers or even join them in an assault. In the Southampton Book of Precedents in 1488 there was yet another defense model organized for the town.112 It is similar to the earlier defense systems in that, like the Terrier of 1454, it divided the number of loops, though by ward, 107 108 109 110 111 112

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 132. Ibid. Letters of the Fifteen and Sixteen Centuries, pp. 13, 21; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 107. Southampton Terrier of 1454, pp. 149–52.



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not individuals.113 There were still four walled wards, each having responsibility for manning and maintaining between 110 and 120 loops.114 This source gives all the names of leaders and landmarks as at the date it was written, which makes it valuable to identify the leadership of the town defense and the areas they were to protect. 115 The highly detailed models of guard over the town during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries indicate that the civic leadership was aware of the place it was to play in its own defense. They took this responsibility seriously as can be seen by the various defensive schemes and their improvement over time. It is by these accounts that the military activity of the town focused its primary and perhaps most important military obligation to the crown and itself to guard the area from attack both small and large in scale, foreign and domestic. It is also evident from the town ordinances that the guard and maintenance of these defenses were one and the same. The defense schemes did not change significantly over the two centuries, but the growing level of detail used to record the defense scheme in the ordinances indicates an increasingly effective and reliable defensive organization. Whether the town leadership wanted the role of protecting the town or not, they played their part, and in many cases were effective in fulfilling this responsibility. While the population of Southampton was mostly made up of merchants, tradesmen and commoners, the safeguarding of the town, region and in some aspects the kingdom, hinged on the preparations of this town and others like it. Espionage, Inter-Town Military Communication and Aid One aspect that is often unexplored in the medieval period, in particular regarding civic bodies, is their involvement in gathering information on enemy preparations, activity and movements. While the scarcity of records that clearly describe this hinders such research, it certainly did take place, and towns such as Southampton appear to have had a major part in the gathering and employment of information. This function was imperative to keeping the coast protected from enemy attack. The knowledge of enemy preparations, their location, the force’s number, equipment gathered, and possible plans would be vital information for preparing a defensive strategy and preventing surprise attacks. In Southampton this aspect of civic-military organization appears to have been very important. Over the entire late medieval period the town gathered information of enemy activity to protect itself. From royal accounts it is evident that the king expected the town to be on its guard in all respects, for its own protection, and that of the areas around it.116 As civil divisions continued to put the kingdom in upheaval in 1323, Edward II 113 114 115 116

Ibid., p. 17. Ibid., pp. 149–52. Ibid., p. 17. CCR (1323–1328), p. 138.

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ordered the town government to “watch for rebels” and arrest all they suspected of rebel sympathies.117 In December 1323 a similar order arrived, specifically to stop the king’s enemies’ spies.118 This account indicates that the king’s enemies would also have employed spies gathering information on communities and individual loyalties, and on the king and his forces. In March 1326 this order was reiterated with the additional order to watch for enemy men-at-arms.119 During much of the upheaval of Edward II’s reign the town of Southampton was being employed to gather information on the inhabitants and foreigners there, and was given power to arrest those deemed a threat. The town leadership was given a great deal of power to counter foreign influence in the town as well. This power seems to have been abused or enforced further than, or in even opposition to, the king’s wishes. In 1326 the mayor and bailiffs of Southampton arrested Berard d’Albret and all his goods.120 It seems Berard d’Albret was in the employ of Edward II. Whatever the situation that arose causing his arrest, the king ordered the town to release him and his goods, and sent Hugh de Gavadenuo under royal protection to gain his release.121 It is possible that by this late date Southampton was acting in its own interests as Edward II’s reign was weakening and many strong rivals including Queen Isabella and her lover Roger Mortimer were making moves to remove the king from his throne. One such example of this military employment is that of Roger Norman, a civic leader from Southampton who, in December of 1338, was ordered to send a ship to spy on French activity and identify the possibility of an attack.122 The order from the king commands Norman “to spy out the king’s enemies now assembling in foreign parts and preparing galleys and other ships of war against him and his people.” The act of organizing and sending out spies to gather information shows an often overlooked aspect of military organization that was of vital importance, as it could give a clear advantage to the defenders. In this case it appears that Norman was familiar with this region and therefore was able to utilize his expertise to protect Southampton far from the town itself. Edward III expected no less from the town than his father had. In November 1338 the mayor and bailiffs were commanded to arrest all who entered or tried to leave the country with any letters or sealed deeds that might “prejudice” him.123 At the time the king was preparing for war with France, so it is probable he was trying to counter the enemy’s intelligence-gathering on the English activity. This was vital to his military needs to keep the enemy unsure as to what

117 118 119 120 121 122 123

Ibid. Ibid., p. 536. Ibid., p. 551. CPR (1324–1327), p. 254. Ibid. CPR (1338–1340), p. 171. CCR (1337–1339), p. 620.



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the English objectives were. It also restrained enemy spies and their networks inside England from furthering the French king’s designs there. Interrupting these lines of communication was of utmost importance for the English, so throughout Edward III’s reign he employed Southampton and other English ports in this function. In March 1342 the town leaders were ordered once more to investigate carefully all who tried to enter the country by the town.124 Just over a year later the civic government was ordered by Edward III to examine all ships and crews entering the country for their safety.125 Orders to counter French spies were sent to Southampton again in 1345, 1346, 1360, 1364, and 1370.126 These examples illustrate that the town was being employed frequently to control information, countering French intelligence activity. Richard II used the town of Southampton in much the same way. In August 1386 the king ordered the sheriff of Southampton to send men out to spy on the activities of ships in the area and where they were able to land.127 This was to be done to prepare for French attacks on the country and ready the inhabitants for defense.128 For the same reasons as past kings, Richard was preparing his kingdom to counter French attacks by sending the townsmen, familiar with the area and enemy, to watch and ready themselves and send news as soon as the information was acquired. In July 1387 the king sent the sheriff of Wiltshire a letter regarding news that French warships had been seen preparing to land.129 This information was said to have come “by certificate of the mayor of Southampton.”130 In this case the mayor of Southampton took the initiative and had sent the king news once this threat was perceived. This communication provided advance warning for towns, villages, counties and castles to resist the enemy as well as to provide readied soldiers for assistance to others who may be assailed, in this case as Wiltshire was to provide men to protect Southampton.131 In such circumstances of acquiring and dissemination of this important information Southampton proved itself a very capable and able part of regional defense. The fifteenth century was no different in the use of “civic” spies to gather news on enemy movements. In July of 1418 the king ordered the sheriff of Southampton to prepare the county and organize watches to resist the French, in addition to sending out men to spy on enemy activity.132 These watches were groups of armed men readied to deter the enemy from attack and perhaps to 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132

CCR (1341–1343), p. 485; CCR (1389–1392), p. 341; CCR (1392–1396), p. 123; CCR (1396– 1399), pp. 288, 488–89. CCR (1343–1346), p. 220. CCR (1337–1339), p. 620; CCR (1343–1346), p. 641; CCR (1346–1349), p. 163; CCR (1354– 1360), pp. 666–87; CCR (1364–1368), p. 90; CCR (1368–1374), p. 200. CCR (1385–1389), p. 253. Ibid. Ibid., p. 329. Ibid. Ibid. CCR (1413–1419), pp. 472, 505–6.

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limit enemy reconnaissance. The men used by Southampton as spies would have been probing across the county to find any news of the enemy, where they might land or have landed, and then to forewarn the watches who were the first line of protection for the English coast. Another such account comes from May 1438 when six men were paid 18d. for “skowtewache” by the mayor’s orders.133 It appears that in addition to the standard watch taking place day and night in Southampton at times of threat, the mayor of the town would send men abroad to gather information of events going on around the town for their protection. While this steward’s account gives no indication of what the hazard was at that time, nor does it state where the scouts went or what they accomplished, it does indicate a well developed system of military defense through the gathering of information. The gathering and dissemination of information continued to be a priority of the town throughout the fifteenth century, especially in times of perceived danger. In 1457 the mayor sent William Taylor to Lepe to go and acquire news of the Frenchmen.134 Lepe is in the southeast of the New Forest beside the sea. From this vantage point it appears that either the scout was able to see the activity of the French vessels or perhaps they had already landed and were on foot, or maybe he was to gather news from locals in the area who might know. What was done with the information the town received was also vital. Richard Asshe was paid to ride to Portsmouth on official town business, probably to disseminate the information that was gained. He was sent to the town to bring “ready tidings out of Normandy of the Frenchmen.”135 The town also sent messengers to the earl of Wiltshire and the mayor of Shaftesbury.136 At a later date, 14 May 1461, there is evidence this model was still utilized as the mayor of Southampton ordered Anthony Clement to ride to Winchester to alert the twon of an enemy fleet approaching.137 This fleet was laid off the Isle of Wight, so Southampton was alerting its neighbors while they still had the opportunity to prepare for the enemy force not yet upon them. At the end of the century, on 11 June 1497, the mayor of Southampton ordered Thomas Barbour off to Salisbury. There he was supposed to gather information about the Cornishmen and their rebellion. After leaving the town he was to continue spying out information as well as what the Cornishmen were doing. He was paid 10d. and had his horse and other expenses paid for.138 The same day two other men were sent out from Southampton for the same purpose. One was sent to the Lord of Winchester (the bishop) and the other to the city of Winchester. These two men, John Elmes and Robert Blewelt, were to “enquire

133 134 135 136 137 138

Steward Steward Ibid. Ibid. Steward Steward

Book of Southampton, 1434–1439, p. 83. Book of Southampton, 1456–1457, p. 23. Book of Southampton, 1461–1462, p. 16. Book of Southampton, 1497–1498, p. 1.



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of the doings and demeanor of the Cornishmen.”139 Robert appears to have been away longer as he was paid 2s. and John was paid 12d.140 More preparations on 15 June were made in Southampton for fear of the Cornish activities. The town paid additional men to guard the gates, fortifications, arms and armor, as well as sending out more spies. John Elmes once more was sent out to collect information on the Cornishmen. He was sent to meet with Master Dawtre and the Master Controller, this time specifically to gather information on Perkin Warbeck.141 Another spy, Oliver Sherde, was sent out to see Perkin’s ill demeanor.142 Another man, a servant of the mayor, was sent with a letter from the king to Lord Broke and Portsmouth as well.143 These examples show the continued and effective use of spies, scouts and messengers as a way to provide another layer of protection for Southampton. This information would have been vital to the town and its ability to be prepared for attacks, especially by surprise. This network of information gathering and sharing among towns was a vital part of preparing for war, giving warning to their neighbors to be ready. It also was a way in which to prepare other towns and provide military assistance outside the town if the need arose. This system was not limited to local towns or lords; even the king was involved. In 1473 the king sent word to the mayor of Southampton of possible French attacks. In response, the town organized an increased watch, spending some 20s. on additional manpower.144 No report of a French attack was made at the time, but it is clear that the town had taken the required steps to be ready for it with watchmen and soldiers. Not long after the anticipated French attack Southampton faced more troubles. The mayor received news that a fleet of “Easternlings,” men of the Hanse, were approaching. He then rode personally to the Grace Dieu to alert those of the royal garrison and crew that was located there of the danger at hand. It appears the town decided on a different resolution than physical violence, as the mayor later is noted to have sailed out between Southampton and the Isle of Wight to pay the “easterlings” “wages” of 40s.145 While perhaps not a physical defense of the town, bribes of this nature were in no way new as a means of town protection and since no assault was made upon Southampton, were apparently successful. Clearly Southampton had a detailed system of accruing information regarding military activity both in England and beyond. The level of diligence in sending spies on land and sea shows the great importance of information for the town in its defense. Once gained, use of the information for preparing the town and alerting its neighbors demonstrates another important aspect of the town’s mili139 140 141 142 143 144 145

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 2. Ibid. Ibid. Steward Book of Southampton, 1472–1473, p. 25. Ibid., p. 31.

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tary schemes. Not only did Southampton have a detailed system of organization to defend itself, but the town also had another equally complex scheme to gain news on current events. This was yet another of the tiers in a complex structure of defense to protect Southampton. Defensive Schemes of the King and Others in Relation to Southampton The town of Southampton played a key role in the military organization of the kingdom. It was locally important to neighboring villages, but also to towns, counties, nobles and the king. These persons and groups recognized Southampton’s importance and assisted reciprocally in Southampton’s military activity through various defensive systems. Often these schemes were at the king’s command, though independent participation took place, particularly between local towns and lords. As a port, Southampton could have been a vulnerability to the area, the region and the kingdom if ill-guarded. After the raid of 1338, particularly, the king implemented several new defensive measures to ensure such an event was not repeated and various steps were put in place to correct this. As a first step, the king ordered additional men to be posted in Southampton to oversee the town’s protection as a short-term solution. These additional men bolstered the town’s military capacity with sufficient leadership and manpower to repel enemy assailants. Edward would use many approaches to prevent future raids as a long-term solution. The king at this time played a large part in the measures that both employed and protected Southampton. As with any location in England the first means of protection were the inhabitants of the various localities themselves. On the south coast there were two main administrative areas for defense. One that was central to this system was the county, headed by the sheriff. Throughout this period the sheriff was vital to Hampshire’s military structure.146 The second was the maritime lands, a swath of territory along the coast for miles inland, overseen by a keeper of maritime lands.147 These two areas overlapped in area and jurisdiction but as the coastal lands were typically more under threat than the rest of the county during the early decades of the Hundred Years War and required additional protection, this double layer of administration was essential. In addition to these defensive regions the king provided arrayers for the raising and leadership of men in both areas. Towns were also able to array men for their protection. At times men were even employed outside their county to aid places of increased risk such as Southampton. The levy was complemented by a number of defensive methods. Systems of beacons and patrols were addition-

146 147

Richard Gorski, The Fourteenth-Century Sheriff (Woodbridge, 2003), pp. 4–6. Gillian Hutchinson, Medieval Ships and Ship Building (London, 1994), p. 162 (12 miles inland); Jonathan Sumption, The Hundred Years’ War: Trial by Battle (London, 1990), pp. 226–27 (6–12 leagues inland).



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ally used to keep watch over these geographic areas.148 On the south coast these systems were often used in conjunction in times of danger.149 Royal Military Structures regarding Southampton After the raid of 1338 Edward III made several changes to his defensive schemes for Southampton. Some means he employed were the placement of royal officials and troops. Keepers were placed in locations of perceived threat as were garrisons. After the 1338 raid on Southampton, the early keepers held great power, both civic and military, and were charged with safeguarding the town. In many ways these men were to enforce the king’s wishes there and ensure that townsfolk were fulfilling their military obligation, principally in their own protection. The provisions of authority along with a garrison further strengthened the keeper’s ability to strengthen the town’s defense. Additionally men were constantly placed to fulfill various functional and organizational duties in the castle, county and town. Edward did continue to rely upon Hampshire and other counties to reinforce Southampton and its dependencies.150 Yet another layer of additional leadership, military experience and soldiers was provided to the town for its protection by the king. These structures were important to the military schemes of Southampton, as they strengthened it and placed the town in context to its surroundings. While the town was the primary party responsible for its own security, this was a difficult charge, for years after the raid of 1338 perhaps impossible. The protection of a location as open to assault as Southampton made further systems of protection imperative to counter concerted attacks directed by the French and their allies. The king, individuals and other organizations were all part of a network that stretched across the kingdom for their mutual protection. In this way Southampton was set into the greater defensive structure of the kingdom, region and locality. The system of defense in which Southampton was involved was a complex scheme of various features. The array, probably dating to the Anglo-Saxon period, was the primary means of large-scale defense in England.151 We see that in the fourteenth century this system remained in common use. In December 1325 Edward II ordered a general levy of all men to be armed according to the statute of Winchester for defense.152 The arrayers were to appoint deputies over the arrayed in groups of hundreds so these men would be ready at specific loca-

148 149 150 151 152

CPR (1324–1327), pp. 216–18; CPR (1370–1374), pp. 152–53; CPR (1381–1385), p. 588; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 109. CPR (1324–1327), pp. 216–18; CPR (1370–1374), pp. 152–53; CPR (1381–1385), p. 588; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 109. See Appendix – Outside Soldiers in Southampton. Michael Powicke, Military Obligation in Medieval England. A Study in Liberty and Duty (Oxford, 1962), p. 88. CPR (1324–1327), pp. 216–18; Select Charters, p. 463.

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tions in their counties, including Hampshire.153 The array in its theoretical form was structured for sufficient leadership and armament. In addition to leaders and men, more precautions were taken. Those arrayed were to “see that beacons be erected and watchmen and sentinels placed in all proper stations.”154 It is clear that a fairly complex network of beacons existed to warn of impending threats and the units of sentinels were placed likewise to gather information and perhaps be an initial deterrent.155 With warning, the large numbers of men arrayed would then have had time and information to counter enemy attacks. Around this same time a keeper of the coast was chosen to oversee the maritime lands of Hampshire with the same objective. These functions combined to create overlapping protection, leadership and, if lacking, accountability for their charges. Outside leadership was not always appreciated in Southampton though. In 1336 the townsmen complained to the king that Adam, bishop of Winchester, was interfering in their affairs. The bishop was not just advising the town leadership with suggestions that might be helpful to them, but had sent his own men to enact his will there. The town pleaded for the king to stop this oppression.156 This account demonstrates two sides of the military obligations assigned to the bishop of Winchester over Southampton. While the exact details of these commands are unknown, it is obvious the town did not want the bishop, or more specifically his men, to interfere in their military defense schemes. With such assignments from the king, officials had to tread lightly in all directions. Since complaints regarding interference by the bishop and others are rare, it is probable that much of the time the town appreciated or at the least did not mind such “assistance”. During the raids of 1338 to 1339, Southampton was reinforced by men from within Hampshire and beyond. In July 1338 Adam, bishop of Winchester, was once more present defending Portsmouth and Southampton from French raids. For this he had raised his tenants and the men of Fareham.157 The difficulty of protecting such a large area is evident, as during this period Portsmouth was raided and razed, apparently undefended. Three days later the king organized men over several counties “to be ready to repel invasions of the French at the request or summons of the keepers of the coast.”158 Levies of Hampshire, Berkshire, Wiltshire, Surrey, Sussex, Oxford, and Kent were placed under the earl of Surrey and the earl of Huntingdon. This deployment enabled landlocked counties to reinforce coastal counties. Apparently these men arrived in Southampton shortly after the French attacked, possibly putting them to flight. It was later alleged that those arrayed were involved in further looting there. Such combining of counties under a central command was fairly common. 153 154 155 156 157 158

CPR, (1324–1327), pp. 216–18. CPR (1324–1327), p. 216. Sumption, Hundred Years’ War, p. 227. CPR (1334–1338), p. 291. CPR (1338–1340), p. 134. Ibid.



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On 12 November 1338 John de Warenne, earl of Surrey, Richard earl of Arundel, William de Clinton, earl of Huntingdon, John de Mowbray and John de Hampton were appointed overseers of the arrayers of Southampton, Berkshire, Wiltshire, Surrey, Sussex, and Kent. The king stated that this was done to avoid the failings of the past keepers, “that by default of the said under to guardians of the coast as well as on account of the disobedience and rebellion of some in the said counties, loss of life, destruction of property, and other evils have occurred at Southampton, Portsmouth, and at other places in the said counties, and that similar evils or worse are to be feared.”159 While avoidance of past failures was paramount, this arrangement also unified the counties for defense and gave the under-guardians, keepers and other leaders a detailed structure to rely on. These directors were also to survey the ports and the entire length of the coasts of their counties and to rectify any weaknesses found. All the bishops, various ecclesiastical leaders, earls, barons, knights and others were to present themselves and their men at the nearest coast in their support. Those who neglected this order were to be placed on a list for the king’s notification.160 With the complete mobilization of all males in the county with a clear and direct structure, Edward III was making moves to resolve many of the weaknesses that allowed prior French raids to succeed. This defense structure helped reinforce and improve Southampton’s, and other nearby towns’, ability to resist assaults as well. The royal investigation of the 1338 raid on Southampton found that many of the keepers and deputies had fled from the threat, and that none of the men raised stood to face the enemy, leaving the town to be burned and plundered.161 It appears that some of the men even paid bribes to avoid going to war, which may have been commonplace at the time.162 The king stated as well that the men of Southampton neglected their duty and fled. As a punishment a list with all their names was to be made, and they were to be arrested and placed in the Tower. It also appears that after the enemy force had left, the townsmen and those sent to protect the town began pillaging, including the king’s wool and wine.163 These failures were more of execution than of organization, as the planned defense schemes were employed improperly, if at all. If beacons, sentries and other companies had been formed and readied as had been ordered prior to the raid and the men had fulfilled their obligations, then the attack on Southampton would have been very different. Yet the raid on Southampton underlines one of the main weaknesses of reliance on a largely non-military community in warfare. A surprise attack such as that in 1338 met little resistance, and most of the townsmen, instead of gathering to repel the enemies, as more experienced soldiers might have done, fled once the enemies were within the town, if not 159 160 161 162 163

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid.,

p. 150. p. 149–50. p. 180. pp. 183–84, 283, 286, 288.

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earlier. If indeed men had bribed the keepers of the coasts as alleged, this reveals another weakness: that men obliged to perform military service, especially away from their homes, are less interested and so are more inclined to disobey, flee or fail to show up. The arrayers and keepers after 1338 were to strengthen the defenses of the town and make sure the men were ready to defend the coasts in the future. 164 Secular lords such as John de Warenne, earl of Surrey, Richard, earl of Arundel, William de Clinton, earl of Huntingdon, John de Mowbray, John de Hampton and others played an important role in this function as protectors of the town and county, as they provided men and leadership.165 The English clergy also fulfilled a military role to the king in Southampton, and great ecclesiastical lords such as the bishop of Winchester were required to provide men and direction as had their lay counterparts.166 Not only were these lords required to provide armed men and leadership to aid in the protection of the town and the adjacent lands, but they were often called upon to verify to the king that the townsmen and their fortifications were ready to withstand an assault.167 Even with the failures of the array as shown by the raid upon Southampton, it remained the prime means of defense in the realm. Counties and towns remained a major part of Southampton’s protection. In February 1339 men from Oxfordshire were arrayed to “be attendant” to Richard, Earl of Arundel and keeper of the maritime lands in Hampshire.168 Two months later Arundel was also given power to array Wiltshire and Hampshire as Maritime Keeper. Though it is unlikely he did not have the power to array Hampshire in February, it shows his powers to protect the coasts were far-reaching. 169 Help from outside Hampshire was at times long term as well. Berkshire provided men to aid Southampton in the protection of Portsmouth in April 1339 with 20 men-at-arms and 40 archers, in addition to 15 men-at-arms, 20 armed men and 20 archers for further protection of the surrounding area. This help from Berkshire stayed in Southampton for a year or more.170 These arrays outside Hampshire would have resulted in a surge of several hundred men for coastal defense whereby Southampton and other port towns received additional soldiers. Such forces would have given valuable leadership and manpower to Southampton in times of dire threat, especially after the depopulation of the raid and the Black Death. After the raids came to an end men from other counties were infrequently employed in Southampton’s defense by Edward III. Only in 1360 as Edward left for France did the king give orders for counties once more to array and

164 165 166 167 168 169 170

Ibid., p. 180. Ibid., pp. 149–50, 179–80; CPR (1340–1343), p. 12; CPR (1367–1370), p. 270. CPR (1338–1340), p. 134; CPR(1340–1343), p. 476; CPR (1367–1370), p. 304; CPR (1377– 1381), pp. 4, 7, 9, 12. CPR (1385–1389), p. 177. CCR (1339–1341), p. 19. Ibid., p. 122. Ibid., pp. 71, 260.



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protect Southampton. In spring and summer of 1360 Oxfordshire and Wiltshire provided men to defend Southampton. In March 1360 all the men of Oxfordshire were to array to protect Southampton and Portsmouth. In April Wiltshire provided 20 men-at-arms, 50 armed men and 200 archers and Somerset 20 men-at-arms, 40 armed men and 150 archers, once more to aid in the defense of Southampton and Portsmouth.171 In August Wiltshire supplied a further 100 of the “best” men-at-arms and armed men and 200 archers, Portsmouth receiving 200 men-at-arms and 400 archers from other counties.172 Obviously Edward realized that the French posed a great threat, especially while he was away, and saw the need of such reinforcement to vulnerable targets. Over the next decade calls for arrays both inside and to aid Hampshire remained silent. After nearly ten years of peace Edward III required additional men to be sent to Hampshire. On 13 August 1369 the king ordered the keepers of the peace, arrayers and sheriff of Wiltshire to provide 100 of the best men-at-arms and armed men, and twice as many archers to Southampton within six days for its defense.173 In this situation, with a keeper in the town, it probably would have been his role, perhaps coupled with the mayor, to utilize these additional men from Wiltshire in the town’s protection.174 As mentioned earlier, since no new scheme appears to have been invented by the successive keepers, it can be assumed that the town continued with its old defensive scheme from c. 1300, and the additional men were positioned where there was need of additional manpower, bolstering the townsmen and whatever garrisons the keeper had in the town. Over the next two decades there were several further arrays and defensive orders for Southampton’s protection. 1375, 1377, 1385 and 1387.175 The array of 1375 included all counties of the southwest of England, including Hampshire, to prepare for invasion from France.176 These counties were “to guard all ports and sea-shores in the county of Cornwall (Southampton and Devon) where ships can put in, resist and destroy all persons wishing to invade the realm by land or sea, array all defensible men, furnish them with arms suitable to their estate, lead them against any enemies presuming to enter the realm, make some common sign by beacons (ignem) on the hills or otherwise to warn the men of the country.”177 As was clearly customary in times of threat men were prepared and armed and beacons placed. What perhaps is distinctive is that this account states one key role they had was safeguarding locations where enemies could land. It is probable that this had always been an aspect of the coastal arrays, but

171 172 173 174 175 176 177

CCR (1360–1364), pp. 104–5. CPR (1367–1370), pp. 303–4. Ibid. Ibid. CPR (1370–1374), pp. 152–53; CPR (1377–1381), p. 4; CPR (1381–1385), p. 588; CCR (1385–1389), p. 329. CPR (1370–1374), pp. 152–53. Ibid.

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perhaps at this time it was something the king wished specifically to be carried out. In July 1377 the king made further preparations for the French by placing William, earl of Salisbury, in charge of the protection of the southern coasts of Hampshire and Dorset.178 This procedure fits into a larger scale plan to defend the coasts at this time as similar actions took place to the east with Edmund, earl of Cambridge and constable of Dover castle, William de Latimer and John de Cobham of Kent being ordered to defend the coasts from the French, as they had already landed “in great force”.179 Richard II, like earlier monarchs, employed this system to fortify Southampton’s defense, though infrequently, only twice his whole reign. In 1385, again under threat of French attacks, Southampton county was arrayed and beacons set.180 Later in July 1385 William, bishop of Winchester, was ordered to array the men of Hampshire once more to defend Southampton.181 Men of Wiltshire were also arrayed in July 1387 to protect Southampton.182 Throughout the fifteenth century arrays, beacons, watches and sentinels remained a major part of the defense of Southampton. In July 1418 watches were ordered and men were arrayed along the coast, and again in May 1437. In August 1440 this was reiterated but with the additional order to look for internal enemies as well.183 In September 1449 the king ordered a commission to array Hampshire and prepare it for possible attacks as well as to aid in the king’s wars in France.184 These attacks were to be met by an array of all the men of the county.185 The king also ordered these men to survey the mustered men on occasion and organize the beacons to warn them and their men of attackers once they arrived.186 A commission of array was ordered on 3 September 1457 in the county for all fencible men, men-at-arms, hobelars and archers for the defense of the coast.187 On 26 September the commission was again ordered, this time under the duke of Somerset.188 December brought yet another call for archers in every wapentake, hundred, rape, city, borough, town, township, village, hamlet and other places in the county.189 From the latest array it seems the county raised 385 archers for the king’s service as well.190 It is probable that Southampton was included in the defense of the coast and was once more given special attention with additional leadership and soldiers. The usefulness of the basic array 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190

CPR (1377–1381), p. 4. Ibid. CPR (1381–1385), p. 588. CPR (1385–1389), p. 12. Ibid., p. 329. CCR (1413–1419), p. 472; CCR (1429–1435), pp. 127, 387. CPR (1446–1452), pp. 316–17. Ibid., p. 316. Ibid., p. 317. CPR (1452–1461), p. 400. Ibid., p. 405. Ibid., p. 406. Ibid., p. 408.



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over Hampshire and its maritime lands accompanied by beacons, watches and other defensive systems remained essentially the same throughout the fifteenth century, perhaps indicating that for the most part they had succeeded. During the fifteenth century, men of Hampshire and outside towns and counties continued their support for Southampton, often without royal direction. In December 1403 the men of Wiltshire, at the request of the mayor of Southampton, arrayed for the defense of Southampton fearing more French coastal attacks.191 A group of 40 archers was placed in Southampton in November 1417 for “the safekeeping of the king’s carracks, ships and vessels in the port of Southampton and the defense of the same against the invasion and malice of the king’s enemies for a quarter of a year.”192 In March 1418 Hampshire raised three knights, 364 men-at-arms, and 776 archers for the defense of Southampton and the sea under the king’s uncle, Thomas, duke of Exeter.193 The addition of hundreds of men from various counties illustrates the continuing dangers that Hampshire, and especially Southampton, faced from French raids and the recognition of the need for additional men to deal with these increased threats. Even after the Hundred Years’ War had ended, soldiers from outside the town were employed in its defense. In 1457 one John Gunner from Sandwich was requested by the mayor of Southampton to come and help them organize their defenses for firearms.194 John appears to have been in Southampton when French attacks came, and he presumably aided in the town’s protection.195 Men were sent from various places to help defend Southampton, with soldiers being lodged in Bargate and other locations as well as food and drink being sent to them.196 Soldiers of Salisbury were lodged at the Friary. Thomas of Hampton was also in the town with “gentlemen” among his company.197 On 7 September 1458 the bishop of Winchester wrote to Hugh Pakenham regarding probable French attacks on the town or adjacent lands. He continued his account by citing the attacks on Sandwich in 1457 as evidence of this probability. He also wrote to the king to request reinforcement of Southampton castle which he felt was in need of repair. He warned that there were three or four men who would ally with the French if they were to attack,198 advising that the town leadership gather “trusty men” to search them out.199 This relationship between the town and bishop was ancient and he often aided them with men and counsel throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In 1472 the king ordered the townsmen to be obedient to the bishop of Winchester and Sir Maurice Berkeley, the constable of Southampton castle, giving them a more formal authority in 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199

CCR (1402–1405), p. 288. CPR (1416–1422), p. 145. Ibid., p. 148. CPR (1456–1457), p. 23. Ibid., pp. 23–4. Ibid., p. 24. Ibid. Ibid., p. 12. Ibid., p. 13.

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Southampton. The relationship between the town and the baronial family of Maurice Berkeley was possibly another traditional relationship that was only being formalized in the royal decree.200 Few reinforcements were sent to Southampton after the danger of French attacks died down, even during the Wars of the Roses. This is probably because the town played a limited role in the wars and therefore did not require additional men for protection. In 1470 Southampton received soldiers from Edward IV to help Lord Howard guard the ships and port,201 as there were enemy ships in the area. The mayor of Winchester accompanied by soldiers arrived to reinforce Southampton as well.202 In 1471 more soldiers of the earl of Arundel were in Southampton to aid in its defense as the town paid them for their time there.203 As conflicts in the Wars of the Roses once more arose with several major battles fought over England, it is not surprising that the king allocated soldiers to Southampton’s protection to ensure his support there. In addition to county arrays, the maritime lands played a vital part in providing men for the protection of the coast, and individuals were also obliged to perform military service in the counties and maritime lands where they held possessions.204 In Hampshire some of the most active demands for support were upon those dwelling in maritime lands. Within Hampshire’s maritime lands, few places were as important as Southampton and Portsmouth. In addition to the royal garrison in Southampton, men of the maritime lands had to provide men to defend the town.205 In February 1339 various landowners, including ecclesiastical leaders, contributed men-at-arms, archers and armed men for the defense of Southampton and the coast.206 Examples of these provisions show varied responsibilities. For example, the abbot of Beaulieu provided two archers and money for fortifications;207 the church of St. Mary two footmen and four archers.208 In 1346 John de Peyton supplied a man-at-arms and an archer in Hampshire.209 The same year, Gilbert de Neville was assessed for three hobelars and one archer, John de Acton two men-at-arms and 20 marks, and Nicholas Malemeynes one man-at-arms and 10 marks.210 In this manner men of means supplied soldiers to protect places that were deemed threatened, such as Southampton. 200 201 202 203 204 205

206 207 208 209 210

Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, p. 9; Letters of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, p. 21. CPR (1470–1471), p. 23. Ibid. Ibid., p. 57. CCR (1339–1341), pp. 18, 67. Ibid., pp. 67, 114, 215, 218, 233; Foedera, conventiones, litterae. et cujuscunque generis acta publica inter reges Angliae et alios quosvis imperatores, reges, pontifices, principes, vel communitates (1101–1654) ed.Thomas Rymer (London, 1709) 2: 1079. CCR (1339–1341), p. 18. Ibid., p. 67; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 114. CCR (1339–1341), p. 215; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 114. CFR (1337–1347), p. 505. Ibid., pp. 508, 513, 517.



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The obligation of manpower from landowners for additional soldiers was complicated as when one location was under threat, so usually were others. In March 1339 the abbot of Hyde was freed of providing men in Sussex as he and all his men-at-arms and other soldiers were in Southampton.211 A similar situation existed with the abbot of Waverly. Having lands in Hampshire and Sussex, he was expected to provide men in both counties.212 The king offered to exclude him from supplying two men-at-arms in Sussex if he would provide more menat-arms to Southampton.213 William Corbet was released from his military obligations in Oxfordshire as he was in the company of Edmund de la Beche, Southampton’s keeper, probably in Southampton’s garrison from April to July 1339.214 As he was already in service to the king in an area of particular threat, it is clear that Edward was content to excuse him from other, less urgent military service. It can be assumed that others of the garrison were also exempt. This was one of the main weaknesses of this system: if men owned lands throughout England they often could not provide the full number of men they were obliged to in all the areas of land they owned. This meant some counties in theory had many defenders, though fewer in practice. It also indicates preference to the defense of Southampton over other counties, particularly those further inland. In this way manpower was increased in areas of greater perceived danger from those of less risk. Many men were split in their military obligation over a wide area which in this case left Southampton short staffed, but often not empty handed. Such releases were fairly common, strengthening some counties while weakening others. Once more the king was aware of the military service given by his men and granted permissions of exclusion to prevent them from serving beyond their means. Royal Officials and Garrisons As stated earlier, the French succeeded in 1338 in landing a series of raids on the south of England, with an especially damaging attack on Southampton.215 This resulted in the suspension of town authority, which was then vested in a royal keeper who commanded a garrison to protect and govern Southampton.216 This period in the town’s history was marked by frequent increases in the building of fortifications. This activity may possibly have been because of the keeper’s presence or because the townsmen realized the result of their incomplete circuit of fortifications. Regardless of the reason, or perhaps partially due to both, works continued in the town for decades after. 211 212 213 214 215 216

CCR (1339–1341), p. 109. Ibid., p. 68. Ibid. CPR (1338–1340), p. 275; CCR (1339–1341), pp. 64, 67, 121, 166. CPR (1334–1338), p. 237; CPR (1338–1340), pp. 80–1, 149–50, 177, 179–80, 183–84, 283, 286; CCR (1339–1341), pp. 101, 141, 550–51; Platt, Medieval Southampton, pp. 107–8, 112. CPR (1338–1340), pp. 180, 275.

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In October 1338, not long after the raid, John de Scures and Thomas Coudray were made the town’s keepers, though they were unable to accept the office as they were involved elsewhere in the king’s service.217 Shortly after in November 1338, the first keepers arrived, John de Bokland and John de Palton, with a garrison of six men-at-arms and twelve archers.218 These keepers with their garrisons became a common feature in the town for the next few years.219 From 1339 to 1342 Richard Talbot, Edmund de la Bech, Thomas earl of Warwick, Philip Thames, prior of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem and the prior of St. Swithun’s in Winchester, with the abbot of Hyde all held office as town keepers.220 These garrisons could range from just six men-at-arms and twelve archers, to one knight banneret, ten knights, 50 men-at-arms and 160 archers under the earl of Warwick.221 Such numbers of men in the town would have greatly strengthened Southampton’s defensive capabilities. The size of the keepers’ garrisons fluctuated greatly, even throughout a keepership. Warwick’s garrison is stated as around 200 men, though Platt indicates it probably never exceeded more than 100 at one time.222 The size of garrison stationed in Southampton probably corresponded to the level of threat, the funds available and perhaps the status of the keeper, as Warwick, an earl, had the largest personal garrison. From the time directly after the raid to 1342 the king selected keepers for the town, many of whom brought substantial garrisons. This indicates the king understood the town’s vulnerability, especially after the raid, and provided men and leadership to reinforce the town’s military capacity. It is probable that with the continuing raids during 1339 by the French and their allies the king decided it best to maintain keepers in the town with strong garrisons.223 This visible and probably active reminder of the king’s desire and commitment to defend Southampton well increased the initial response to military preparations in the town. The keeper of the town, even if equipped with a strong garrison, like that of the earl of Warwick, still relied on the townsmen for sufficient manpower to protect Southampton.224 All the keepers placed in Southampton had the power to array the men therein for defense, though later keepers had some limitations even in military matters.225 As the keeper’s garrisons were often much smaller than that of the earl of Warwick, this dependence on townsmen was even greater. While they had this power and there is no reason to assume that it 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225

CPR (1338–1340), p. 180, CFR (1337–1347), p. 97; Platt, Medieval Southampton, pp. 109–13. CCR (1339–1341) ,p. 18; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 113. See Appendix – Keepers of Southampton. CCR (1339–1341), pp. 18, 115, 106, 155, 260, 205, 305; Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7, 49–51; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 114. CCR (1339–1341), p. 18; Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7. See Appendix – Men of the Southampton Garrison from 25 July to 25 August 1339 from the Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 115. Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7. Ibid. CPR (1338–1340), p.180; CCR (1339–1341), p. 215.



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often was contested, disputes did happen at times. Keepers Edmund de le Beche, along with Richard de Penle and Stephen de Bitterle, were ordered to stop compelling the church of St. Mary to provide more than two armed men for the town’s protection, as the church was already involved in its and Southampton’s defense.226 This power was another useful tool in bolstering the town’s military strength but clearly had limitations. The keepers also could utilize the military obligations of all religious and lay lords and town and county arrays in addition to their garrisons.227 In November 1338 Hampshire, Berkshire, Wiltshire, Surrey, Sussex, and Kent were arrayed to protect the coast. All the bishops, religious leaders, earls, barons, knights and others were to participate with their men in this defense as well.228 As illustrated here the king created a multilayered system to provide Southampton’s keepers with sufficient access to additional manpower. As war with France was inevitable late in Edward III’s reign, the keepership of Southampton became very active once again. In June 1369 Hugh de Escote was made keeper of Southampton, followed by Emery de Saint-Amand who was made keeper in August of the same year.229 Hugh de Escote’s garrison was rather small for the threat he faced with only eight esquires and two archers.230 When Emery de Saint-Amand arrived he brought 47 men-at-arms, 39 hobelars and 172 archers, a much more formidable force for the danger Southampton then faced.231 Amidst continued French threats in August 1370 Hugh de Escote, apparently with no garrison at all, was once more in Southampton. With John Polymond, the mayor, he was ordered to array the town and its suburbs.232 This cooperation with the town mayor indicates how the royal keeper had become a support or auxiliary to the town leadership. That he was without a garrison at a time of such danger is unusual as well, but it was possibly due to funding difficulties, or perhaps that the townsmen were seen as sufficient. If funding was the reason, then the manner Robert de Assheton’s garrison was raised in February 1371 fits well. His garrison was of arrayed men from Dorset, Gloucester, Northampton, Rutland and Somerset amounting to 40 men-at-arms and 90 archers, unlike the previous garrisons which were indentured.233 With increased French aggression keepers and their garrisons, no matter their recruitment, were once more involved in Southampton’s protection. Richard II’s main assistance to Southampton was not the county arrays but a continual keepership with garrisons. After renewed attacks on the coasts in the summer of 1377, which left Hastings burned and Yarmouth, Rye and the Isle of

226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233

CCR (1339–1341), p. 215. Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, p. 47. CPR (1338–1340), pp. 149–50. CPR (1367–1370), pp. 270, 303, 305; Platt, Medieval Southampton, pp. 125–26. Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 126. Kew, The National Archives, E101/ 29/ 34; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 126. CPR (1367–1370), p. 474. CPR (1370–1374), p. 102.

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Wight pillaged, the king appointed John Arundel as Southampton’s keeper.234 His recommended garrison was 100 men-at-arms and 100 archers, but it arrived with 140 men-at-arms, 140 archers, 20 crossbowmen, eight gunners, and two engineers.235 After a few months this number decreased, perhaps as the French in the area had been defeated and lack of further attacks made them unnecessary, and by September only 60 men-at-arms and 60 archers remained, which was still a formidable garrison.236 He also was empowered as keeper to see that all townsmen “according to their condition and means were armed with suitable weapons and arrayed against the king’s enemies whenever danger is imminent, compelling them thereto by distress or imprisonment if necessary.”237 In this situation as in those of previous royal keepers he was ordered not only to lead the townspeople in defense, but to see that they were prepared and armed in a suitable manner to defend themselves. In this way the king ensured that Southampton remained organized for defense with sufficient soldiers and leadership. From 1383 to 1397 Richard II made his brother, Thomas Holland, earl of Kent, keeper of Southampton.238 John Sondes represented the earl as keeper in Southampton, which included the duties of commanding the garrison of archers and men-at-arms.239 Richard II seems to have directed commands to John in respect to the keepership of the town and castle, which seems to have accommodated all parties involved. It also appears that John was active in the town military organization prior to this deputyship.240 With perceived threats of attacks from France during much of Richard’s reign, the keeper and his garrison were valuable assets to the town’s protection. It is probable that many of the other keepers had in fact been present in their duties; perhaps as the earl was the king’s brother his allowance was to have a deputy there in his place. After the earl’s time as keeper ended late in the fourteenth century the office was passed to Ivo Fitzwarin in January 1400.241 It is unclear if any garrison was placed in Southampton after that time, and it is probable that, upon Fitzwarin’s appointment, the use of garrisons was discontinued. As usual, he had powers to array the men of the town for their defense, and he was ordered to see that the fortifications were in good condition, which were listed specifically including the “garrites,” “towers,” “loupes” and other defenses.242 He was also told to carry out his labors with the advice of the mayor. This perhaps indicates that the keepership at this time was a purely military office as all his activity was 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242

CPR (1377–1381), pp. 4, 7; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 127. CPR (1377–1381), p. 12; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 127. Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 127. CPR (1377–1381), p. 4. CPR (1381–1385), p. 311; CPR (1391–1396), p. 90; CPR (1396–1399), p. 151. CPR (1385–1389), pp. 236–37; CPR (1391–1396), p. 90. CPR (1381–1385), pp. 84–5, 138–41; CPR (1385–1389), pp. 258, 177; CPR (1391–1396), p. 90. CCR (1399–1402), pp 186, 239; CPR (1399–1401), p. 186; Platt, Medieval Southampton, p. 142. CPR (1399–1401), p. 186.



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limited to martial aspects and had to be authorized by the mayor.243 When Ivo was appointed, he was asked to make repairs to the fortifications with all haste, as danger was imminent.244 There are no records of a town keeper after Ivo’s appointment, and it is reasonable to assume that the office ended with him. Why this office ends is debatable, as Southampton was entering into a period of raised tensions and foreign threat under Henry IV. It is possible that the position overlapped with the duties of other civic and royal officials in the town and was no longer worthwhile, as each keeper had become more and more ancillary to the town leadership. The initial keepers of 1338 and 1339 were empowered with a wide array of rights in the town, both civic and military. These powers shifted from complete control of the town in consequence of failure to an advisory and supportive role to bolster the town when successful.245 From 1338 to 1400 there were more than three decades of keepers accounted for in Southampton, from 1377 to 1400 with little or no break. It may be that as danger subsided, no notices or commands were made or no keeper was selected. This increase in town keeper activity demonstrated Richard II’s fear of possible attacks on Southampton in the late fourteenth century and one way in which he dealt with it.246 On the surface it appears that the keepers of Southampton became even more common in the late fourteenth century than immediately after the raid. This may not be so straightforward; it may be that the town always had a royal keeper after the raids of 1338. It is possible that during times of relative peace the keeper’s services were not needed and therefore with no active need there were no orders or commands to them in this position. From 1377 to 1397 at least it seems that there was always at least a titular keeper in Southampton.247 It is possible that there was always a person designated as town keeper as the title appears off and on over the century, becoming more common later. The town keepers were an essential part of Southampton’s rebuilding after the raid of 1338. Combining their military leadership with a garrison, this method of defense for Southampton was a strong reminder of the king’s expectations and assistance to the townsmen and their military organization. Keepers were also able to recruit men from a wide number of locations to further increase their responsibility over the town. While later keepers may have been limited in authority and to have had a more advisory role, they continued to play a part as military leaders. This aspect of defense actively participated in Southampton

243 244 245 246

247

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 151. CCR (1339–1341), pp. 166, 288, 304–5; CPR (1338–1340), pp. 180, 275; CPR (1367–1370), pp. 270, 303–4; CPR (1377–1381), pp. 4, 7; CPR (1381–1385), pp. 84–5, 138–41, 311; CPR (1385–1389), pp. 258, 177; CPR (1396–1399), p. 151; CFR (1337–1347), p. 97; Sign Manuals and Letters Patent, pp. 46–7. CPR (1377–1381), pp. 4, 7; CPR (1396–1399), p. 151.

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through many of the most dangerous periods of the 1300s effectively strengthening Southampton’s military defense. Other Royal Officials The king had specific responsibilities in Southampton’s defense tied to the presence of a royal castle there.248 The most important royal position was the constable, keeper or custodian of the castle. This officer would ensure the castle was maintained and kept in readiness to withstand attack, which was vital to the town’s defenses. If a constable was diligently engaged then the castle would probably be well repaired and guarded; if not, the castle would fall into disrepair and become a liability to the town’s protection. Constables were present in Southampton castle for much of the reign of Edward III: Thomas West in 1333, John Beauchamp in 1343 and Richard Pembridge by the 1350s.249 John Foxle was constable in 1372, interrupted in 1375 for a time by Richard Pembridge, and was reinstated in 1377.250 Richard II not only continued the appointment of constables but refortified the castle during his reign, which strengthened the town physically. He also staffed his castle for its organization and defense. One of the first offices was given to Richard Trenley, who was hired as custodian of the castle gate in December 1379. 251 On 3 March 1409 the king commissioned John Blakwell in the same position as keeper of the gate.252 With John’s appointment in 1409 it states that this office was left vacant at the death of Richard Trenley (Truele or Trueley), a position he had fulfilled for almost thirty years.253 John Foxle was reinstated as constable on 23 March 1378, though later in 1383 the position passed to Richard II’s half-brother Thomas Holland.254 He seems to have used his deputy John Sondes as both the town and castle keeper in his place. Holland was given the castle for the remainder of his life in 1397, though he died later that same year.255 Richard II also created a new position for the castle community in Southampton that continued well into the fifteenth century. In 1386 the king appointed a cleric, Thomas Tredington, to celebrate divine services and to keep the king’s arms, armor and artillery in the castle as well as to continue works on the

248 249

250 251 252 253 254 255

Southampton Terrier of 1454, p. 21. CFR (1356–1368), p. 143; CPR, 1330–1334, p. 260; CPR, 1281–1292, p. 13; CFR, 1327– 1337, pp. 205, 275; A History of the King’s Works, 8 vols, ed. R. A. Brown, H. M. Colvin, and A. J. Taylor (London, 1963–82), 2: 841. CFR (1369–1377), p. 155; CPR (1370–1374), p. 79; CPR (1377–1381), p. 190; CPR (1281– 1292), p. 13; The Kings Works, 2: 841. CCR (1377–1381), p. 395. CPR (1408–1413), p. 58. CPR (1377–1381), p. 532; CPR (1408–1413), pp. 58, 68. CPR (1377–1381), p. 190; CPR (1381–1385), p. 311. CPR (1396–1399), p. 151.



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castle for its protection.256 This was renewed under Henry IV in 1399.257 The position of a clerk and keeper continued on into the late fifteenth century.258 This royal official was important in many ways. Clearly he was intended as a leader to direct the care and use of arms, armor and especially artillery kept in the castle and perhaps the town as well. This position also shows the rising importance that firearms played in defense. While clearly having an important role in an attack against the castle, his year-round position was in maintaining and acquiring new additions to the castle’s military organization, and was both physical and administrative. While the keepership of Southampton appears to have ended during the opening of the fifteenth century, the office of keeper of Southampton castle continued with a fairly clear succession throughout the fifteenth century. John Popham was first constable appointed by Henry IV, then confirmed in the office in 1414 by Henry V and in 1423 by Henry VI.259 Popham probably held the castle over four decades through the reigns of three English kings. The office of custodian of the castle continued in November 1447 with William Stone and Nicholas Crewe in 1457.260 In 1461 Humphrey Audeley was made keeper, followed in 1472 by Maurice Berkeley, then William Berkeley in 1480, and last John Horton in 1483.261 Throughout Edward IV’s reign a keeper of the castle was in office, for over a decade apparently the office was held by the Berkeley family. It is unclear if Horton remained constable though it seems probable as Richard III would probably have confirmed the appointment and there is no indication Henry VII revoked it after he took power in 1485. Probably after Horton’s death the castle passed in November 1495 to Thomas Overey (Overay), esquire.262 Perhaps more interesting than those before him, it is probable that this was the same Thomas Overey who was mayor of Southampton 1488 to 1490.263 The constableship of the castle going to a townsmen and civic leader perhaps demonstrates the confidence that Henry VII had in the town, transferring the complete defense of Southampton into their hands. These royal offices were important to Southampton’s military organization. The castle made up a chief defense of the western circuit of defenses. With strong and sufficient leaders and officials, the king could ensure that the castle and the town were held securely. The most important part of the castle’s protection was that people were assigned to these positions so that a clear order was established. Whether successful or not, the responsible party then could be found. With a near-constant line of constables of the castle as well as other posi-

256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263

CPR CPR CPR CPR CPR CPR CPR Ibid.

(1385–1389), pp. 196, 198. (1399–1401), p. 144. (1436–1441), p. 548; CPR (1452–1461), p. 20. (1413–1416), p. 168; CPR (1422–1429), p.111. (1446–1452), p. 109; CPR (1452–1461), p. 390. (1461–1467), p. 21; CPR (1467–1477), p. 309; CPR (1476–1485), pp. 179, 412. (1494–1509), p. 58.

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tions such as the king’s keeper of artillery in the castle, English kings continued creating structured defenses for Southampton. With few exceptions, such as that of Thomas Holland during Richard II’s reign, the positions of town keeper and castle keeper remained separate. With the cessation of town keepers with Ivo Fitzwarin during Henry IV’s reign, the keeper of the castle became the most important royal official within the town. At the end of the fifteenth century it is almost fitting that the position was awarded to a former mayor and civic leader, Thomas Overay, in a way charging the town with its complete protection. With such leadership positioned in Southampton, the king had created yet another defensive scheme for the town. Conclusion As these examples illustrate, Southampton was not alone in its defense. Most important to the town’s protection were the townsmen themselves. These men in many ways bore the brunt of the costs and responsibilities. The detailed strategies the town leadership created and evolved for their own protection gave the townsmen the order needed to act as a body. This development can in small part be seen in the increasing complexity and clarity in the town defense schemes over these two centuries. The schemes of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were adequately organized for defense but the fifteenth century saw these schemes gain increased depth and detail, these regulations becoming clearly spelled out. While the townspeople had limitations they also played a vital part in their own protection, the protection of the areas around them, and the kingdom. The king was mindful of the dangers facing the town and provided assistance to it. Various systems were created by the king to provide leadership, organization and soldiers to Southampton to strengthen its military capabilities. The county arrayer, keepers of maritime lands, towns, castles and others were engaged in a complex and far-reaching system of defense that was able to raise and lead men as well as recruit them for Southampton’s safeguarding. Independent lords, secular and ecclesiastical, and towns contributed to Southampton’s protection as yet another means the town had of acquiring assistance. Whether garrisons were stationed in Southampton or men levied from Hampshire or other counties, these men greatly increased the town’s ability to resist their enemies. With the leadership of great men of the land heading these companies, they also received the additional benefit of more experience to protect their town. With such support Southampton’s military capabilities were strengthened and would be able to repulse assault. As was most apparent with his appoinment of the keepers of Southampton the king could place as little or as much control on the town as he wished or deemed needed at the time. It is clear that current events also affected the keeper’s rights and powers in Southampton. Earlier keepers had sweeping powers over the town influenced by its inability to prevent the devastation of the raids. Later keepers held fewer powers, demonstrating the town’s increased defensive



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capabilities. While this interference at times drew mixed responses from the townsmen, the king knew the importance of the town military’s structure and needed it to function correctly, or else face increased dangers of attack and invasion. The English kings most often preferred the town leadership to be in charge of itself, as the cost and attention needed was much less, but they were often willing to take this charge themselves if they felt the situation warranted it. This right to place a keeper over the town initially was used as a reaction or even punishment for the failure in defense against the raid in 1338. Later keepers appear to be more of a royal official in the town to bolster the town leadership and townsmen’s resolve in military preparation, not to replace the civic leadership’s military role. In this way the king was perhaps able to keep his eye on the town, to prevent another failure such as the raid of 1338. All these influences determined in many ways the capability of the town’s defensive schemes to a certain extent but were not primarily the responsible party. This fell largely to the town leadership and townsmen themselves. The town was directly responsible for its defense and its execution of this appears in many ways. The town’s strategies for its own protection varied little from year to year. Excluding an increase in detail of the town defense schemes, they remained surprisingly constant from 1300 to 1500. It is important that the system of defense of the kingdom did not change greatly either, nor does it seem to have grown more detailed in the accounts in the fifteenth century over those of the fourteenth, remaining nearly the same organization over the two centuries. What did change in regard to outside involvement in the town’s protection was the level of involvement in Southampton. At times of serious threats of wars and town weakness or failures in defense, these outside forces often would come to pick up the slack that the town could not. These additional leaders and men would have been crucial in times such as that following the raid in 1338, giving the town the opportunity to restore its own military strength, but by the late fourteenth century it is apparent the town increasingly was ultimately responsible. Further the reciprocal nature of this multilayered defensive scheme is apparent in that the town, its neighboring towns and individuals,the region and the kingdom as a whole depended on one another for protection from outside aggression. In the end the town remained the primary military force in the area but others that bolstered the townspeople in their defense, with both manpower and leadership, had an important place in the defense schemes of the vital port of medieval Southampton.

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Town Ordinances related to Town Defense in the Oak Book of Southampton, c.1300264 Article 45: Of that which the alderman and Guardians of the streets of the town of Southampton, etc. The alderman, Guardians of the streets of the town, shall swear loyalty to keep the King’s peace, and cause to be enrolled the names of all who are in their ward, and once in every month at least shall go around to see that the points and ordinances made for their ward be well kept; and if they find anything in their ward that is against the ordinances of the guild and of the town, they shall give notice of it to the alderman and to the bailiffs of the town, and they shall in no wise omit this, if they would enjoy the franchise of the town. Article 46: Of two aldermen who shall keep the peace within the boundaries. It is provided, by common consent of the town, that from the North Gate to the East Gate, and to the corner [house] which belonged to Richard de la Prise and the great house (or capital messuage) which belonged to John de la Bolehusse, on both sides of the street, with all the parish of our Lady in the East Street, there shall be two aldermen elected as Guardians, to take care that the peace be well kept within the boundaries aforesaid, and they shall cause to be enrolled the names of all who are dwelling in their ward, and they shall be bound in good security to keep the Kings peace, and their securities shall be enrolled; and they shall take care that no person stay in their ward beyond one night, without finding such security as before is said, if he desire to remain in the town, that the town may receive no hurt or damage through him.265 And the two Aldermen shall once in eight days, or in fifteen days at least, go around their ward to see that nothing be done contrary to the form aforesaid within their ward. And if there be any offender in the ward aforesaid who work will not submit to be attacked (arrested), the sworn sergeant(s) of the town and the alderman, together with the whole of their ward, shall go with all their power and follow the malefactor until he be taken, and if the alderman do not this, the town will cast the blame on them.266 Article 47: That the watchs of the town be wisely appointed and kept in all points in their. And the alderman shall take care that the watches of the town be well kept and wisely appointed in their ward. Article 48: From the corner which belonged to Richard de la Prise unto Newtown, two alderman and all. From the corner (house) which belonged to Richard de la Prise, and the great house which belonged to John de la Bolehusse, and

264 265 266

The Oak Book, pp. 55–59. Ibid., p. 55: ‘Richard de la Prise is mentioned in deed of late 13th.’ Ibid., p. 56. According to Speed’s translation, the sentence ends, “town will take matter into their own hands.” The French is “la vile se prendre (le pendera) a eus.”



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unto the sea, together with Newtown street, there shall be two alderman and the form aforesaid. Article 49: From French Street to the sea, two aldermen, as is aforesaid. For all French Street, that is to say, from the corner (house) which belonged to Richard de la Prise, and from Henry Brya on the other side, and on both sides of the street to the sea, there shall be two aldermen, as is aforesaid. Article 50: From Simnel Street to the Castle there shall be two Aldermen. From Simnel Street, with the fish market, and the whole of Bull Street, with all the West Quay to the castle, there shall be three aldermen, as it is before provided. Article 51: Outside north gate to Lubrie Street [Lobery Street] their shall be three aldermen. From outside North Gate on the one hand, and on the other from the streets of Full- Flood, together with the strand and Lubrie street, there shall be three aldermen in the form aforesaid.267

Town Ordinances related to Town Defense in the Oak Book of Southampton, c. 1473268 Article 45: the alderman, wardens of the streets of the town, ought for two swear, that they shall truly to keep the Kings peace, and that they shall to enroll the names of them that they have in their ward, and they shall make a search, every month at the least, to see that the points and stablementes made of their ward the well held. And if they find anything that is against the stablementes of the guild of the town in their ward, they shall do it to with to the chief alderman and to the bailiffs of the town, and that they shall not let in any man, as they will enjoy the franchise of the town. Article 46: It is provided, by the common council of the town, that from the north gate on to the east gate, and to the corner that was Richard de la Price, and the chief house that was to John bolehouse, of that one party, and of that other of that street, with all the parish of our lady in east street, there shall be to alderman, chosen wardens to take keep of the peace, that it be well kept, within the foresaid bounds: and they shall do to set in roll The names of all those that be dwelling in their ward, And they shall find pledges sufficient to be at the Kings peace, and other pledges shall be entered in the roll. Also, they shall take keep that no man shall dwell in their ward past a night, but if he find pledges as aforesaid, if he should be a dweller in the town, that skath not hurt 267 268

Oak Book, pp. 55–59. Oak Book, pp. 93–94.

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by him should fall to the town. And the two aldermen shall make every 8 days, or 15 days, at the most, a search through their ward, and oversee that no man do against the man aforesaid within their ward. And if they find any in their ward, that shall trespass and will not suffer the attached by the serjeants sworn to the town, the Alderman and all the ward shall go with their full power, and sew the malefactors, till they be taken; And if the Alderman will not do so, the town shall lay the charge to the said alderman. Article 47: the alderman shall take good keep, that the watches of the town be well kept and wisely, and every man in his ward. Article 48: from the corner that was Richard de la price and the chief house that was John de la belehouse, into the sea, with all the street of Newtown, shall be two alderman and form aforesaid. Article 49: of all the French street, that is to wite, from the corner that was Richard de la price and Henry Bryan, on the other party, on the other side of the said street, into the sea, there shall be two alderman, as is aforesaid. Article 50: from Simnel Street, with the fish market, and all the bull street, with all the west hithe, Onto the castle, there shall be two Alderman, as is aforesaid. Article 51: without the Northgate, one every side, with the street of full flood, the stronde and boole barre strete, there shall be three aldermen, in form aforesaid.

Town Ordinances related to Town Defence in the Oak Book of Southampton, c. 1478269 There shall nightly be six men watching within the town, where of always two to keep the walls, and the other four to walk within the town, and half times to walk up to the castle hill, and there to have good respect to the sea and every part of the town, for fire and other dangers. And that every man, when the watch, to his house, be ready at the walls in proper person, the or a sufficient person, being no alien, for him, up on pain to lose twelve pence for every time making default. And from all Halloween day to Candlemas, it is agreed that every watch man shall have for every night 3 pence; and afterward, till the feast of all saints, 2 pence. And then no watchmen depart from the watch, before Candlemas day, before six of the clock in the morning, up on pain of imprisonment and further punishment, as shall be thought good for his dessert. And from Candlemas to the feast of all saints, before five of the clock. 269

Oak Book, p. 94.



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Item, that there shall be for watchmen nightly Above Bar and saint Mary’s, keeping their walks to our lady of grace, and by the seaside to god’s house gate, and so a to the post against Arundel’s Tower, and the other two to walk about bar and up to the cross by hither Rokesden lane, and sometime down goslinge lane to hilbridge, and so by the seaside up to bar gate. Item, The Tethinge of Portiswoode to keep nightly two men watching, and this to endure as long as shall be thought necessary; every watchmen to keep his watch, and have like wages, as abovesaid.

11 French and English Acceptance of Medieval Gunpowder Weaponry Kelly DeVries

In 1966, John R. Hale, following up an earlier essay, which had addressed in general the subject of warfare and public opinion during the fifteenth and sixteenth century, published an article focusing on the question of that same society’s acceptance of early gunpowder weaponry. In this article, “Gunpowder and the Renaissance: An Essay in the History of Ideas,” Professor Hale concluded that although there were historical examples of societal acceptance of early guns, on the whole, the people of the fourteenth through the sixteenth centuries had rejected this new military technology.1 In a time of scholarly protest against the war in Vietnam and a growing concern over the arms race of the Cold War, Hale found some solace in the fact that substantial literary evidence showed that the period of his research also had a large number of intelligentsia who criticized their kingdoms’ weapons policies. And while, as he concludes, “by the early seventeenth century, ideals had given ground to the arguments of fact,” yielding to an increased use of and, equally, a growing complacency towards, gunpowder weapons, that period of intellectual fervor known as the Renaissance had at least held out a disdain for the killing power of the new weapons.2 One only needs to read the statement of Miguel Cervantes’ Don Quixote about the destruction of chivalry wrought by gunpowder weapons to sympathize with Professor Hale: Blessed be those happy ages that were strangers to the dreadful fury of these devilish instruments of artillery, whose inventor I am satisfied is now in Hell, receiving the reward of his cursed invention, which is the cause that very often a cowardly base hand takes away the life of the bravest gentleman; and that in the midst of that vigour and resolution which animates and inflames the bold, a chance bullet (shot perhaps by one who fled, and was frighted by the very flash the mischievous piece gave, when it went

1

2

John Hale, “Gunpowder and the Renaissance: An Essay in the History of Ideas,” in From Renaissance to Counter-Reformation: Essays in Honour of Garrett Mattingly, ed. Charles H. Carter (London, 1966), pp. 113–44. This was the follow-up article to “War and Public Opinion in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Century,” Past and Present 22 (1962), 18–32. Hale, “Gunpowder and the Renaissance,” p. 136.

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off) coming nobody knows how, or from where, in a moment puts a period to the brave designs and the life of one that deserved to have survived many years.3

Or read the following rebuke of Ludovico Aristo’s Orlando Furioso: [It was] the Evil One, enemy of human kind, who invented the firearm, copying the action of the thunderbolt which splits the clouds and falls to the earth … It splits steel, smashes stone to pieces; wherever it goes nothing can resist it … Wicked, ugly invention, how did you find a place in human hearts? You have destroyed military glory, and dishonoured the profession of arms; valor and martial skill are now discredited, so that often the miscreant will appear a better man than the valiant … I have said it, and I speak no lie; the man who invented such abominable contraptions was crueller by far than the most evil of evil geniuses the world has known. To his eternal punishment I believe God must shut his cursed soul away in the blindest depths of hell, with Judas the accursed.4

But these passages, and in fact most of Hale’s evidence, are from the sixteenth century. In looking at the two previous centuries, when the evolution of gunpowder weaponry was still in its infancy, a different reaction is discovered: with very few exceptions, society did not criticize the use of gunpowder weapons but accepted them. They were merely another weapon to be used as much by one’s own forces against their enemies as vice versa.5 Abundant narrative and archival sources testify to how rapidly the evolution of gunpowder weapons progressed. Within 150 years after their invention, guns had become the conventional weapons for both sieges and battles. They had affected strategy and tactics, in fortification construction and naval warfare. There were enormous bombards, several tons in weight and several meters in length, capable of firing stones of 200 kilograms, and there were tiny couleuvrines, one-sixth of a meter in length and mounted on stock, firing lead balls of less than a centimeter. The methods and metallurgy of their manufacture had changed, as had the science of their propellant. All these changes had improved the guns’ killing capabilities.6 3 4 5

6

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote, trans. J. M. Cohen (London, 1950), p. 344. Ludovico Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, trans. Guido Waldman (London, 1974), pp. 108–9. Malcolm Vale suggests this in his War and Chivalry: Warfare and Aristocratic Culture in England, France and Burgundy at the End of the Middle Ages (Athens, GA, 1981), pp. 137, 142, but does not elaborate on it. Recent publications which discuss the early history of gunpowder weaponry include: Robert Douglas Smith and Kelly DeVries, The Artillery of the Dukes of Burgundy, 1363–1477 (Woodbridge, 2005); Robert Douglas Smith, Rewriting the History of Gunpowder (Nykobing, 2010); Emmanuel de Crouy-Chanel, Canons médiévaux: Puissance de feu (Paris, 2010), Simon Pepper, “Aspects of Operational Art: Communications, Cannon, and Small War,” in European Warfare, 1350–1750, ed. Frank Tallett and D. J. B. Trim (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 181–202; Michael Prestwich, “The Gunpowder Revolution, 1300–1500,” in The Medieval World at War, ed. Matthew Bennett (London, 2009), pp. 182–203; Kelly DeVries, “A Reassessment of the Gun Illustrated in the Walter de Milemete and Pseudo-Aristotle Manuscripts,” Journal of the Ordnance Society 15 (2003), 5–17; Kelly DeVries, “‘The Walls Come Tumbling Down’: The Campaigns of Philip the Good and the Myth of Fortification Vulnerability to Early Gunpowder



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At first, it seems that all soldiers, both nobles and non-nobles, resisted these weapons. Their sounds were thunderous, and the ground shook when they were fired. But this resistance did not last, especially when it was seen that guns could end sieges quicker and could stop infantry and cavalry charges more completely. Even the Catholic Church, the same church that had banned the use of the crossbow at the Second Ecumenical Lateran Council in 1139,7 did not hold a similar dislike for guns, especially since it became apparent even before the beginning of the fifteenth century that the Ottoman Turks showed no hesitation in using these weapons against Christian armies. If the Islamic God had given guns to His people, the Christian God would not want His people to defend themselves with any less “decisive” technology. Pope Pius II even possessed his own gunpowder weapons, naming them after himself, Enea and Silvia, and after his mother, Vittoria.8 The church also furnished cannoneers with their own saint, Saint Barbara, a fitting patron of those who operated gunpowder artillery, for at her martyrdom, her father, who had denounced her Christianity, was struck down by a clap of thunder and a lightning bolt.9 It is possible to look at many other non-narrative or non-archival references to show societal acceptance of gunpowder weapons in the late Middle Ages. Artistic sources are numerous in their depiction of guns, most without portraying them in any negative way. Plentiful too are other sources, such as the numerous references to the effectiveness of gunpowder weapons found in the Paston letters,10 and of the testimony of the duke d’Alençon at Joan of Arc’s retrial that the reason for her effectiveness as a battlefield commander was that she could communicate with the non-noble soldier, as evidenced in her ability to use gunpowder artillery ably after discussing among other things its placement with her gunners, something the duke himself could not or would not do.11 It is also possible to discuss the naming of a prominent late medieval musical instrument the “bombard” because of its similarity in sound and shape to the

7 8

9 10 11

Weapons,” in Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2005), pp. 429–46; C. T. Allmand, The Hundred Years War: England and France at War, c.1300–c.1450 (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 76–82; Geoffrey Parker, The Military Revolution: Military Innovation and the Rise of the West, 1500–1800 (Cambridge, 1988); and Kelly DeVries and Robert Douglas Smith, Medieval Military Technology, 2nd ed. (1992, Toronto, 2012), pp. 137–63. DeVries and Smith, Medieval Military Technology, pp. 43–44. Vale, War and Chivalry, p. 145. On the Ottoman Turkish guns see Kelly DeVries “Gunpowder Weaponry at the Siege of Constantinople, 1453”, in War, Army and Society in the Eastern Mediterranean, 7th–16th Centuries, ed. Yaacov Lev (Leiden, 1996), pp. 343–62. Hale, “Gunpowder and the Renaissance,” p. 126; Michel de Lombarès, Histoire de l’artillerie française (Paris, 1985), pp. 29–30. The Paston Letters, ed. James Gardiner, 6 vols. (London, 1872–75), 1: 83, 238–39; 2: 120–23, 398; 5: 730. See Proces de condamnation et de rehabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc, ed. Jules Quicherat, 5 vols. (Paris, 1841–49), 3: 90–100; Kelly DeVries, Joan of Arc: A Military Leader (Stroud, 1999), p. 56; Kelly DeVries, “The Use of Gunpowder Weaponry by and against Joan of Arc during the Hundred Years War,” War and Society 14 (1996), 1–16.

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gunpowder weapon by the same name.12 All of these are convincing in their own right as to society’s acceptance of gunpowder weapons. But as John Hale’s article was largely based on literary references, it is my intention to answer it on this ground. In doing so, the conclusion must be that while Professor Hale is accurate in his ideal of Renaissance disapproval when it comes to gunpowder weapons during the sixteenth century, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, as revealed in many literary sources, gunpowder weapons were well accepted by society.13 To begin, it must be admitted that some prominent literary references do criticize the “users” of gunpowder weapons and, by extension, seem to criticize the weapons as well. John Lydgate’s Troy Book, written between 1412 and 1420, mourns the fall of the Trojan castle, Tenedos, ascribing its failure to the fact that the Greeks used “gonnys grete, for to caste stonys” to bring down its walls.14 The romance Sir Ferumbras, written shortly after 1377, does the same, only moving its location to the Holy Land during the Crusades; in this tale a Saracen “engyneour” stocked a three-storied siege tower with guns, from which he harried the French defenders of a besieged fortress.15 A similar critical use of guns is found in Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur, which portrays Mordred, the treasonous bastard son of Arthur, besieging Guinivere in the Tower of London with guns.16 Finally, there is William Langland’s Piers Plowman, which has Satan barring the gates of hell and defending them with guns, among other weapons, in a vain attempt to keep the crucified Christ from freeing the captives at the time of His resurrection.17 In each of these cases, however, it is the operators of these weapons who are indicated as evil – the Greeks, a Saracen, Mordred and Satan – and not the guns they were using. However, of all late medieval commentators on gunpowder technology,

12

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14 15 16 17

On the musical bombard see David Munrow, Instruments of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (London, 1976), pp. 39–40; Curt Sachs, The History of Musical Instruments (New York, 1940), pp. 314–15; Francis W. Galpin, Old English Instruments of Music: Their History and Character (London, 1910), pp. 162–63. It should be noted that in presenting this evidence, I argue against the conclusions of Professor Dhira Mahoney as found in her article, “Malory’s Great Guns.” In that article, published in 1989, Professor Mahoney dismisses all mention of guns in Middle English literature of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries as referring to non-gunpowder weapons. This is a conclusion which, as will be shown, has little supportive historical evidence. See Dhira B. Mahoney, “Malory’s Great Guns,” Viator 20 (1989), 291–310. Fortunately, this article has had little influence, although it does cause confusion in Malcolm Hebron, The Medieval Siege: Theme and Image in Middle English Romance (Oxford, 1997), 32, who as a literary scholar gives it more worth than is due. John Lydgate, Lydgate’s Troy Book, ed. Henry Bergen, Early English Text Society (hereafter EETS), 2 vols. (London, 1906–35), 1: 6430–34. Sir Ferumbras, ed. Sidney J. Herrtage, EETS (London, 1879), 1: 3255–66 Thomas Malory, The Works of Thomas Malory, ed. Eugene Vinaver, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1973), 2: 1227. William Langland, The Vision of William Concerning Piers the Plowman, ed. W. W. Skeat, EETS, 3 vols. (London, 1873), 3: 382–84.



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perhaps the most critical and most like Cervantes and Ariosto is Francesco Petrarch, writing in the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the technology was but in its infancy. In his De remediis utriusque fortunae, Petrarch describes the gun as a marvel except for the bronze bullets, which are shot with spewing flames and awful-sounding thunder. The anger of immortal God thundering from the sky was not enough, unless poor mortal man (O cruelty joined to pride) had also thundered from the ground: human madness copied the inimitable thunderbolt (as Vergil says), which is accustomed to be sent from the clouds.18

These negative references to gunpowder weaponry are few, however, and in fact are in the minority when compared with the overall corpus of late medieval literary works which mention gunpowder weapons. Most of the others either exhibit no opinion as to the guns’ moral value – such as the two late medieval Latin/Middle English lexicons, the Promptorium parvulorum sive clericorum (c. 1440) and the Catholicum anglicum (1483), both of which define guns (and gunnares, the operators of the weapons) without demonstrating a positive or negative opinion of their use19 – or they show an unconditional acceptance of the technology. Geoffrey Chaucer is an excellent example of this last attitude. It is important to begin with Chaucer not because he is the first literary figure to accept gunpowder weapons in his writings, but because of his fame among literary scholars as a true “Renaissance Man” and because he makes references to guns in at least three different works. In the Romaunt of the Rose, guns are mentioned only in a list of weapons,20 but in two other works Chaucer’s literary use of the weapons is more complete and complex. In “The Legend of Cleopatra,” a chapter in Chaucer’s The Legend of Good Women, the late fourteenth-century poet commends Mark Antony for defending Cleopatra with his guns: With grisly soun out goth the grete gonne, And heterly they hurtlen al at ones, And fro the top doun cometh the grete stones.21

And in The Hous of Fame, Chaucer first uses guns to illustrate Eolus blowing his trumpet: That through-out every regioun Wente this foule trumpes soun,

18 19

20 21

Francesco Petrarca, Phisicke for Fortune (London, 1579), pp. 125–26. Promptorium parvulorum sive clericorum, ed. Albert Way, Camden Society, 2 vols. (London, 1843–45), 2: 218–19; Catholicum anglicum: an English-Latin Wordbook Dated 1483, ed. Sidney J. Herrtage, EETS (London, 1881), p. 345. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Romaunt of the Rose, in The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. Walter W. Skeat, 6 vols. (Oxford, 1894–), 1: 204. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Legend of Good Women, in The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. Skeat, 3: 108.

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And then, later, he uses a gunpowder weapon discharge to exemplify the loudness of the noise the gun makes: And the noyse which that I herde, For al the world right so hit ferde, As doth the routing of the stoon That from thengyn is leten goon.23

In both of these latter passages it is the sound of the gun that is foul or frightening, and not the gun itself; no criticism of the weapons is intended. Chaucer is not alone in using uncritical references to guns in his literary works during the fourteenth century. Indeed, the list of other fourteenth-century authors mentioning gunpowder weapons, writing mostly in Middle English, is quite impressive on its own, even if Chaucer is not included. The earliest literary reference to gunpowder weapons may be in The Romance of Sir Tryamoure, written anonymously, most likely in the middle of the fourteenth century. In this work, King Aragus, one of the heroes of the tale, besieges a castle “with gonnes, and grete stones rounde” with the result that the walls of the fortification “were throwen downe to the grounde.”24 A couple of decades later in the fourteenth century, John Barbour, in his poetic life of Robert Bruce, reported initially that the Flemish mercenary, John Crabbe, did not have guns when he fought for England against Scotland c. 1317, “bot gynis for crakkis had he nane. / For in scotland zeit than, but wene / the oys of thame had nocht beyn sene.”25 But by 1319, according to Barbour, when Edward II besieged Berwick, guns appeared not only at the siege, but also on ships raiding the Scottish coast. At the siege of Berwick a particularly vivid description of the power of gunpowder technology is witnessed. Planted opposite a large Scottish siege machine known as “the Sow,” the English cannon fired three shots: the first shot missed; the second came close to hitting the Scottish weapon; but the third shot “ … with gret wecht syne duschit doune / richt by the wall, in a randoune / and hyt the sow in sic maner / That it, that wes the mast summer / And starkest for till stynt a strak / In-swndir with that dusche he brak.”26 A less well known, but equally important literary reference to gunpowder weapons can be found in the late fourteenth-century The Avowing of Arthur. In one passage, “there come fliand a gunne,” the poet seems to have confused the projectile with the weapon, and yet the comparison to thunder and lightning 22 23 24 25 26

Chaucer, Hous of Fame, ed. W. W. Skeat (Oxford, 1893), pp. 61–2. Chaucer, Hous of Fame, p. 70. See Robert Coltman Clephan, An Outline of the History and Development of Hand Firearms, from the Earliest Period to about the End of the Fifteenth Century (London, 1906), p. 12. John Barbour, The Bruce, ed. W. W. Skeat, EETS, 2 vols. (London, 1889), 2: 415. Barbour, The Bruce, 2: 430–32.



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remains the same: “and lemet as the leuyn.”27 Again the author does not criticize the technology. Finally, perhaps the literary author who uses references to gunpowder weapons most in the fourteenth century is the French poet Eustace Deschamps. Deschamps, whose poetic works fill no fewer than eleven volumes of the Société des anciens textes française collection, wrote at least seven poems in the latter part of the century which mention gunpowder weapons. Some of these, it should be said, seem to be negative in their tone, with at least two pointing to the Flemish use of gunpowder weapons, the Flemings being the hated, rebellious subjects of late fourteenth-century France, at least according to Deschamps.28 Another poem, entitled “De la malediction sur ceuls qui requierent a faire armes” (Concerning the Evil of Those Who are Required to Make Arms), chides those “evil” artisans who manufacture arms, including the makers of cannons, both those that discharge stone cannonballs and those that discharge quarrels.29 But as can be seen, these references, while certainly negative, are not specifically directed at gunpowder weapons – indeed, Deschamps treats gunpowder weapons the same as he does non-gunpowder weapons – but to those who operate or produce them. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that one of the poems which mentions the Flemish guns claims that their use cost the Flemings victory in battle.30 As well, the remaining four poems all express some admiration for the technology: gunpowder weapons show prosperity;31 they show military power (no one can effectively attack them);32 and because they are used by enemies against the French, they also should be used against enemies of France.33 Finally, perhaps the most interesting reference to gunpowder weapons comes in Deschamps’ poem entitled “La complainte d’un gentil homme marié en aage moien faicte par Eustace par maniere de balade” (The Complaint of a Married Middle-Aged Gentleman Made by Eustace in the Manner of a Ballad) in which the misogynist Deschamps contends that marriage to a woman does more damage than a cannon.34

27

28

29 30 31 32 33 34

The Avowing of Arthur, ed. Roger Dahood (New York, 1984), p. 83. It is on this passage that many of Dhira Mahoney’s conclusions are based. Clearly, however, in view of the overwhelming number of other sources which describe the proper use of gunpowder weapons at this time, it must be assumed that the author merely erred in his use of “gunne” in this passage; this cannot have been a catapult. Eustace Deschamps, « Imprécations contre la Flandre, » in Œuvres complètes, ed. Gaston Raynaud and Henri Auguste Edouard, le marquis de Queux de Sainte-Hilaire, Société des anciens textes française, 11 vols. (Paris, 1878–1903), 4: 283–84, and ”Contre le froid pays de Flandres,” 4: 329–30. Deschamps, “De la malediction sur ceuls qui requierent a faire armes,” 7:34–36. Deschamps “Imprécations contre la Flandre, ” 4: 283–84. Deschamps, “Ballade de nouvel an,” 1: 228–29. Deschamps, “Conseils contre l’hiver,” 5: 98–100. Deschamps, “Imprécations contre ses ennemis,” 4: 272–73. Deschamps, “La complainte d’un gentil homme marié en aage moien faicte par Eustace par maniere de balade,” 5: 217–19.

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In the fifteenth century references to gunpowder weapons multiplied as did the numbers and destructive capabilities of the weapons themselves. As they had in the previous century, courtly romances, for one literary genre, continued to mention guns. For example, the Middle English Prose Life of Alexander, written c. 1440, has Alexander the Great using cannons to successfully breach the walls of Thebes.35 The Old French Blanchardyn et Eglantyne reports that King Alymodes used guns to bring down the walls of the castle of Tormaday.36 And the late fifteenth-century Fabyans Chronicle has King Robert I of France, by entering a castle near Orléans in disguise in 998, capture the fortress without resorting “to the stroke of gunne or other engyne.”37 In the fifteenth century another literary genre, political or historical poetry, must also be investigated for its reaction to gunpowder weapons. References to guns appear frequently in these poems, and almost always they are mentioned with acceptance and often even admiration. Take, for example, the Old French poem lamenting the 1407 defeat of the town of Maastricht in which the Burgundian army used more than three hundred cannons in a vain attempt to defeat the Liégeois forces inside the walls.38 A later poem praised the Burgundians, but in this instance for being able to withstand the gunpowder artillery assault of the Liégeois army at the battle of Othée in 1408. Bravery and tactical superiority had defeated technology.39 Because these weapons were potentially so destructive, sometimes divine intervention saved the lives of those who faced them. Read, for example, the following lines written by an anonymous Middle English poet after witnessing the artillery bombardment of Calais in 1436 by the Burgundian guns: Gonners began to shew thair art, into the tovn in many apart, Shot many a full grete ston. Thanked be god, and marie mylde They hurt neither man, woman, ne childe, House thogh they did harme; “Seynt Barbara” than was the crie Whan the stones in the tovn did flye, They cowde noon other charme.40

Again criticism of gunpowder technology is muted, as the poet recognizes that

35 36 37 38 39 40

Prose Life of Alexander, ed. J. S. Westlake, EETS (London, 1913), p. 30. Most accessibly found in Blanchardyn and Eglantine, trans. William Caxton, ed. Leon Kellner, EETS (London, 1890), p. 152. Fabyans Chronicle (London, 1553), 6. 203.213. In Chants historiques et populaires du temps de Charles VII et de Louis XI, ed. Antoine Jean Victor Le Roux de Lincy (Paris, 1857), pp. 7–11. Chants historiques, pp. 11–15. See Ralph A. Klinefelter, ed., “‘The Siege of Calais’: A New Text,” Publications of the Modern Language Association 67 (1952), 888–95. The quote above is found on pp. 892–93.



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God and the saints, particularly Saint Barbara, would protect those who faced the weapons. (By the way, the siege failed.) Other political/historical poems which mention gunpowder weapon use include two celebrating the battle of Montlhery in 1465, where both the French and the Burgundian forces had guns;41 a poem on the siege of Tournai in 1466, which mentions the Burgundian victory over that rebellious town using gunpowder bombardment;42 two more on the siege of Liège in 1467, also celebrating the Burgundian use of the weapons against a rebellious town;43 a poem on the attacks made by Duke Charles the Bold against the towns along the river Somme in 1471, all made with accompanying guns;44 and, finally, a poem entitled L’Aventurier, written by Jean de Margny, which recalls the failed Burgundian siege of Neuss in 1475, in which gunpowder-propelled projectiles were used as messengers to the inhabitants of the besieged town reporting that a German relief army was on its way.45 (Also reported in this last poem is the story of two brothers hit successively by cannon shot.46) None of these poems criticizes the use of gunpowder weapons. However, one poem (or rather two versions of one poem) should be singled out for its interesting use of gunpowder weapon imagery. This work, written in Middle English, recounts the attack made by Henry V on France in 1415, resulting in the siege of Harfleur and the battle of Agincourt.47 After mentioning the “great ordynauce of gunnes” that were made for the invasion, the anonymous poet has a scene, which will later be picked up by Shakespeare and used nicely in his play on the fifteenth-century English king, where the French Dauphin, later Charles VII, sends to Henry a “tun full of tenys balls” as a gesture of ridicule. But Henry calmly accepts the gift and replies: And my gunnes that lyeth fayre upon the grene, For they shall playe with Harfflete A game at the tennys, as I wene.

This in fact would come to pass: For every great gunne that there was In his mouthe he had a stone. The Captayne of Harfflett soone anone

41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Chants historiques, pp. 95–100, 102–4. Chants historiques, pp. 113–15. Chants historiques, pp. 139–45. Chants historiques, pp. 176–80. Jean de Margny, L’aventurier, ed. J. R. de Chevanne (Paris, 1938), p. 59. Margny, L’aventurier, pp. 83–4. The two versions of this poem can be found in W. Carew Hazlitt, Remains of Early Popular Poetry of England, 4 vols. (London, 1836), 2: 88–108 under the title “The Batayle of Egyngecourte” and as an appendix to Eugerran de Monstrelet, Chronique, ed. Louis Douetd’Arcq, 6 vols. (Paris, 1857–62), 6: 549–62 under the title “The Siege of Harflet et batayl of Agencourt.” The following quotes are from Hazlitt’s edition (2: 97–100).

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Kelly De Vries Unto our kynge he sent hastely, To knowe what his wyll was to done.

Henry V and his guns answer (these seem to have carried female names, including one of the king’s daughter’s, although these names do not appear in the poem48): By the grace of god and of his goodnes; Some hard tennys balles I have hyther brought, Of marble and yren made full rounde, I swere by Jesu, that me dere bought, They shall bete the walles to the grounde. Than sayd the greate gunne, Bolde felowes, we go to game: Thanked be Mary, and Jesu her sone, They dyde the frenchemen moche shame. Fyftene afore, sayd London: tho Her balles full fayre she gan out throwe; Thyrty, sayd ye seconde gun, I wyll wyn & I may. There as the wall was mosst sure They bare it downe without nay; The kynges doughter sayd, hearken this playe, Harken, maydens, nowe this tyde, Fyve and forty we have, it is no nay, They bete downe the walles on every syde.

Harfleur, rather than continuing to play “tennys” with the king’s guns, surrenders: The Normandes sayd, let us not abyde, But go we in haste by one assent Where so ever the gunstones do glyde; Our houses in Herfflete is all to rent, The englysshemen our bulwarkes have brent; And women cryed, alas! that ever they were borne. The frenchemen sayd, now be we shent, By us now the towne is forlorne; It is best nowe theyrdore, That we beseche this englysshe kynge of grace For to assayle us no more Leste he dystroye us in this place.

A final fifteenth-century literary genre which also must be investigated for its acceptance of gunpowder weaponry is the translation into vernacular (and sometimes into verse) of Vegetius’ De re militari, a feat accomplished several times during the century.49 Some of the translations are “true” to the original 48 49

Unfortunately, the names of Henry’s guns at Harfleur are not known to confirm this. See Josette A. Wiseman, “L’epitoma rei militaris de Végèce et sa fortune au moyen âge,” Moyen âge 85 (1979), 13–31.



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text, but three works are not only translations of the classical military manual, but also attempt to update the older text, and these updates contain details of the new gunpowder technology. Of these, the first and certainly most famous is Christine de Pisan’s Le livre des fais d’armes et de chevalerie, written c. 1410. Christine, better known for her other, non-military works, is keenly aware of the use and effectiveness of these new weapons and their effects on military tactics and strategy, and thus she includes descriptions of them in her translation. Her purpose here is to include “things that are good and necessary to assail cities, castles and towns after the manner and way of the present time.” Her respect for firearms is clear, and she urges the use of “all manner of guns” not only at sieges, but also in battle and even on shipboard. This in turn would enable more numerous and more quick French (or Burgundian, depending on whom Christine might be writing for) victories. Also, Christine insists, French fortifications should be well stocked with many guns, powder and projectiles, so that they may better defend themselves against an opponent’s gunpowder bombardments.50 A second translation of Vegetius which mentions gunpowder weapons is the Middle English Knyghthode and Bataile, written in verse a decade or two after Christine’s Fais d’armes. In this translation the anonymous author first goes through Vegetius’ list of artillery pieces – carrobalista, manubalista and funibulary – but then adds: “But now it is unwiste, / Al this aray, and bumbardys thei carry / And gunne and serpentyn that will not very / Fouler, covey, crappaude and colveryne / And other sortis moo then VIII or IXne.”51 Later, the author reports that, while the earlier artillery is no longer known, “The taberinge of the fistis / Uppon the bowe, and trumpyng of the gunne / Hath famed us as fer as shyneth sonne.”52 In a last passage, Knyghthode and Bataile mentions, and in fact praises, each type of gunpowder weapon used at the time with its attending “duty” in a siege: The canonys, the bumbard and the gunne Thei bloweth out the voys and stonys grete Thorgh maste and side other be thei runne In goth the serpentyne aftir his mete The colveryne is besy for to gete an hole into the top, and the crappoude wil in; the fouler eek wil have his laude.53

50

51 52 53

Christine de Pisan, The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, ed. Charity Cannon Willard, trans. Sumner Willard (State College, PA, 1999), in particular pp. 117–19. (The quote is from pp. 117–18.) For a study of guns in Christine’s work see Bert S. Hall, “‘So Notable Ordynaunce’: Christine de Pizan, Firearms, and Siegecraft in a Time of Transition,” in Cultuurhistorische Caleidoscoop aangeboden aan Prof. Dr. Willy L. Braekman (Ghent, 1992), pp. 219–40. Knyghthode and Bataile, ed. R. Dyboski and Z.M. Arend, EETS (London, 1935), p. 68. Knyghthode and Bataile, p. 93. Knyghthode and Bataile, p. 104.

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Finally, a third text which makes use of and updates Vegetius by discussing gunpowder weapons is the French Le Jouvencel, written by Jean de Bueil in the middle of the fifteenth century. It too introduces the idea of gunpowder weapons in military engagements and in fact even includes a summary on how artillery units should be organized. Also included in Bueil’s work is a discussion of how to use bombards (the largest gunpowder weapons) and veuglaires (mediumsized guns) together.54 Well before the end of the fifteenth century, gunpowder weapons had become a technology to contend with in every military engagement. By the beginning of the sixteenth century they had begun to change all manner of defensive and offensive warfare. Bloodshed caused by gunpowder weapons was increasing and chivalry was disappearing.55 It is thus small wonder that both Cervantes and Ariosto, in the mouths of their would-be chivalric heroes, would decry the use of guns. Indeed, this is the value of Hale’s article, for many of the sixteenthcentury intelligensia did reject this military technology’s deadly power. They yearned for a day when warfare could return to its medieval “chivalric” guise. For they had seen the effects of almost two centuries of unabated technological evolution of gunpowder weaponry, an evolution which had gone relatively uncriticized by many of their earlier intellectual counterparts. Sadly, the time of their yearnings would not return again.

54 55

Jean de Bueil, Le Jouvencel, ed. Leon Lecestre, 2 vols. (Paris, 1887–1889), 1: 142, 164, 168–69; 2: 41, 45. While dated, Johan Huizinga’s Herfsttij der middeleeuwen: Studie over levens- en gedachtenvormen der veertiende en vijftiende eeuw in Frankrijk en de Nederland (Haarlem, 1947) is still of great worth (although in using an English translation, The Waning of the Middle Ages: A Study of the Forms of Life, Thought and Art in France and the Netherlands in the Dawn of the Renaissance (New York, 1954) is preferred over the error-ridden The Autumn of the Middle Ages, trans. Rodney J. Payton and Ulrich Mammitzsch (Chicago, 1996) due to the number of translation problems in the latter.

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

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 (1312–50) – Nicolas Agrait 7 Sir Thomas Dagworth in Brittany, 1346–7: 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 1173–74 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 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 (11th–12th 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 1477–79 – 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 (1355–6), according to MS 78 of Corpus Christi College, Oxford – Clifford J. Rogers

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 1415–50? – 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 (1468–77) – 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

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

spine 22mm

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

CONTENTS ALDO A. SETTIA CHARLES D. STANTON GEORGIOS THEOTOKIS T. S. ASBRIDGE

Military Games and the Training of the Infantry The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account The Square “Fighting March” of the Crusaders at the battle of Ascalon (1099) How the Crusades Could Have Been Won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem’s Campaigns against Aleppo (1124–5) and Damascus (1129)

MICHAEL EHRLICH

Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard

SCOTT JESSEE and ANATOLY ISAENKO

The Military Effectiveness of Alan Mercenaries in Byzantium, 1301–1306

DONALD J. KAGAY and L. J. ANDREW VILLALON SAVVAS KYRIAKIDIS A. COMPTON REEVES RANDALL MOFFETT KELLY DEVRIES

Winning and Recalling Honor in Spain: Pro-English Poetry in Celebration of the Battle of Nájera (1367) The Wars and the Army of the Duke of Cephalonia Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429) Sir John Radcliffe, K.G. (d. 1441): Miles Famossissimus Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 French and English Acceptance of Medieval Gunpowder Weaponry

An imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge IP12 3DF (GB) and 668 Mt Hope Ave, Rochester NY 14620-2731 (US) www.boydellandbrewer.com

ROGERS, DEVRIES, FRANCE (editors)

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

XI

J ournal of

MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY

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