Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter

by John G. Edgar

  CHAPTER X

  WILLIAM DE COLLINGHAM

  The name of William de Collingham was of high account in his day andgeneration. Moreover, his name occupies a conspicuous place in thehistory of the great contest which desolated England in the seconddecade of the thirteenth century.

  It is difficult to decide whether the Collinghams were of Saxon orDanish origin. Most probably they were originally Danes, who landed withKing Sweyn when he came, in 1004, to avenge the cruel massacre of hiscountrymen, and who, under the rule of Canute the Great, settled quietlyin Yorkshire. However, Collingham himself was neither a Saxon nor aDane, but an Englishman; and the armorial figure on his shield and whitebanner was a raven of fierce aspect in full flight, which, about theyear 1216, became very terrible indeed to the enemies of England.

  William de Collingham was chief of a family that had risen to baronialrank in England during the stirring reigns of Henry and Richard; and thetwo earliest of our Plantagenets had profited by their loyal services.Moreover, ten years before our story opens, William had been in favourwith King John; and, being then a young and handsome chevalier oftwenty-five who had proved his valour and prowess in the tilt-yard andin the wars carried on against Philip Augustus, he was held in muchesteem in England. But William had since experienced, to his cost, thecaprice of fortune. About 1205 he had the misfortune to be so far ledastray by his imagination as to aspire to the affections of Eleanor,“the fair damsel of Brittany,” sister of the ill-fated Arthur, and, inconsequence, involved himself in serious trouble. Men jealous of hisrenown, and eager to seize his possessions, represented the affair insuch a light that John,--to whom the existence of a daughter of hiselder brother caused much anxiety, seeing that, according to the laws ofsuccession, she had a legal claim to the crown which he wore--wasfrightened out of his propriety; and Collingham atoned for histoo-romantic aspiration by banishment from the realm. One of hisbitterest enemies was the queen.

  Years, however, had passed; great changes had taken place; and Williamde Collingham’s existence was almost forgotten even by John himself,when, on that spring day, the banished man rescued him from so terriblea danger. But the king was by no means sorry that Collingham was yet “inthe flesh.” Indeed, his presence was most welcome, for John’s affairshad reached such a stage that every partisan was of consequence; and hedid not think lightly of a follower so stout and so capable asCollingham of rendering loyal service, as his father had done beforehim. So Collingham exchanged his life in the forest for the king’scourt; and having, in the first place, saved Oliver Icingla by a word,began to exercise much influence over the warlike preparations whichJohn was making with the object of defending himself and his crownagainst attack.

  And, indeed, it was now clear that the barons were ready to go alllengths. In vain the king had taken the cross; in vain he sent to Romeand invoked the mediation of the Pope. Nothing daunted them. On Easterweek they gathered from various quarters in Lincolnshire, assembled atStamford, and from Stamford removed to Brackley with two thousandknights, who, with squires and men-at-arms, made up a formidable feudalarmy. At Brackley they halted to deliberate before laying siege toNorthampton, which is situated about fifteen miles from Brackley.

  Naturally enough, John felt much alarm when he learned that his enemieswere at the head of such a force as he could not cope with; but at thiscrisis he was not deserted. Not only the Nevilles, but the great Earlsof Pembroke and Salisbury and Warren remained faithful in the day ofadversity; and faithful also remained many chevaliers and gentlemen,who, without any personal liking for John, and without any of the youngIcingla’s hereditary veneration for the memory of St. Edward, were yetdetermined to stand by the king and fight for the Confessor’s crown.However, it was necessary to take some steps to avert civil war ifpossible; and John, having summoned Archbishop Langton, sent him, incompany with Pembroke and Warren, to hold a conference with the baronsat Brackley, and offer to refer their dispute to arbitration. But theyfound the insurgents in no compromising mood. Producing the petitionwhich, on the day of Epiphany, had been presented to the king in thehouse of the Templars, they recited the chief articles.

  “These are our claims,” said the barons, sternly, as they handed thepetition to Langton; “and, if we do not receive full satisfaction, weappeal to the God of Battles.”

  The primate and the two earls returned to the king, and Langton, withthe petition in his hand, explained its contents, and related what thebarons had said.

  “By God’s teeth!” exclaimed John, losing his temper, when calmness wasso necessary, “I will not grant these men liberties which would make metheir slave. Why do they not likewise demand my crown?”

  Without delay Langton carried the king’s answer to Brackley; and thebarons, fortified by the counsels and support of the primate, resolvedto hesitate no longer. Calling themselves “the army of God and theChurch,” they chose Robert Fitzwalter as their general-in-chief, and,raising the standard of revolt, advanced to Northampton in feudal array.

  But Northampton did not, as they probably anticipated, open its gates toadmit them. Defended by a strong castle, and walls built after theConquest by Simon St. Litz, and strongly garrisoned with Royalists, thetown held out gallantly, and for a whole fortnight defied all theirassaults so successfully that they lost patience.

  “We are wasting our strength here,” said some, “and giving the king timeto take measures for our destruction.”

  “Yes,” said others, “let us on to Bedford, to which William Beauchampwill admit us without a blow.”

  Accordingly the barons raised the siege of Northampton, and marching toBedford, of which William Beauchamp, one of their party, was governor,they took possession of the town. But John did not despair. Aconsiderable body of mercenaries were now at his beck and call. Williamde Collingham was rallying archers to the royal standard; Pembroke,Warren, and Salisbury were mustering the fighting men of the districtssubject to their sway; Lord Neville had hurried to his castle of Raby tosummon the men of the North to the war. So long as London held out--andso far the Londoners seemed to look quietly on--there was still hope forthe royal cause. Such was the state of affairs when an event occurredwhich changed the face of matters, and baffled all calculations.

  It was Sunday, the 17th of May, 1215; and the king, having just heardmorning mass, and summoned Oliver Icingla and other hostages, wasinforming them that their lives were forfeited by the rebellion of theirkinsmen, and that they could only save themselves by taking an oath toserve him faithfully in the war, when William de Collingham presentedhimself, pale and agitated, but endeavouring to be calm.

  “Sire, sire,” said he, “all is lost!”

  “What mean you?” asked John, in a voice tremulous with emotion, anddismay on every feature.

  “Simply this, sire,” answered William; “the Londoners have provedtraitors, and Robert Fitzwalter and his army are now in possession ofthe city.”

  John rose, tottered, reseated himself, tore his hair, and uttered somewild words, as if cursing the hour in which he was born.

  “By God’s teeth!” cried he, stamping violently, “I have never prosperedsince the day I was reconciled to the Pope.”

  But fury and regret could avail the king nothing. Every gate was alreadyin the custody of the insurgents; and from the castles of Baynard andMontfichet waved the standard of revolt.