Angevin Dynasties of Europe 900-1500

by Jeffrey Anderson

  The great contemporary historian of the early part of the war is Jean Froissart, who worked for both the French and English, and so generally had access to good information for both sides. He also had an interest in Naples, and noted that ‘Robert the king of Sicily’, known as a great astrologer, had warned Philip VI at the start of the war that he would only find misfortune if he fought the English, another example of ‘great wisdom’ in the medieval period being nearly synonymous with sorcery.10 Modern historians somewhat churlishly criticize Froissart’s work for its breathless tone and focus on deeds of chivalry and derring-do, but he is an invaluable resource, not in spite of, but because he indulges his bias in favour of valour and rousing quotes to the full.

  His account of the battle of Crécy is a perfect example. The French arrived late in the day and in some disorder, as various parts of the force arrived at different times. Philip VI, seeing the English in a strong position, was advised to wait until the next day to fight and accepted this advice, but the mass of the army was pushed forward by later arrivals until they drew too close to the English line and were forced to engage. Philip tried to retrieve the situation and ordered an attack. This was to be led by a group of professional Genoese crossbowmen, using the weapon that, until the 14th century, was the premier piece of battlefield artillery. As the Genoese advanced, they were soaked by a heavy rain shower that damaged their weapons – Froissart throws in a solar eclipse and an ominous flock of crows for good measure – and before they could get close enough to the English to do any harm, the English longbows, with a much greater range and quicker rate of fire, annihilated them. The Geneose tried to flee, but the French knights, infuriated by what they saw as the cowardice of these mercenaries, rode them down and attacked. The French were attacking uphill, into the setting sun and into the hail of arrows from the longbows, and suffered massive losses.

  Some of the French did reach the English lines and there was fierce fighting. Froissart reports the most glamorous and touching moments of the battle. Edward III’s sixteen-year-old son, Edward the Black Prince, led a division and was sorely pressed, but when a messenger went to Edward III to request help, the king replied, ‘Let the boy earn his spurs for I am determined that all the honour and glory of the day be given to him.’ Blind King John also managed to fight, instructing his companions to lead him to the front so that he might ‘strike one stroke with my sword’. His company tied their horses together by the reins so that they wouldn’t lose each other in the press, and they did reach the front: Froissart reports that they were all killed and the next day they were found in a group, with their horses still tied together. The Black Prince was said to be so impressed by John’s bravery that he took John’s badge of three ostrich feathers and his motto, ‘ich dien’ or ‘I serve’, for his own, and it remains the Prince of Wales’s motto to this day.

  As wave after wave of French knights charged even after night fell, and were slaughtered, some finally began to leave the battlefield, including Philip VI. The English army included detachments of non-noble Cornish, Welsh and Irish light infantry or ‘knifemen’, who, as ‘low-born villeins’, asked for no quarter in battle and gave none. They dispatched all the injured French knights where they lay, meaning that the battle was vastly more deadly than medieval battles tended to be. Froissart claims that Edward III was ‘greatly exasperated’ that the knifemen killed so many French nobles, who might otherwise have been held for ransom. Be that as it may, Crécy was an iconic victory that heralded something of a military revolution. The tactics Edward used had not been seen outside the British Isles and had overwhelmed what was, rightly or wrongly, perceived to be the most powerful army in Europe.11

  The consequences of Crécy were perhaps not as striking as one might expect. The English army went on to besiege and finally take Calais, which the English would hold for more than 200 years. A separate force was sent to Aquitaine, and consolidated the English position there when the French army under the Duke of Normandy, the future Jean II, retreated on hearing of the catastrophe at Crécy. More importantly, the Scots invaded England in October 1346 in support of France, only to be heavily defeated at Neville’s Cross near Durham, and their king David II was taken prisoner and sent to the Tower of London. England’s northern frontier was now secure, and Edward III could concentrate on the war with France. However, as we reach the end of the 1340s we know what is coming, and in 1348 the Black Death arrived in France, spreading to England the same year and ravaging both countries, along with the rest of Europe, until the end of 1349.

  Perhaps not quite as significant as the Black Death, but still an important factor in the events of the late 1340s and early 1350s, was Edward III’s financial situation. Edward had borrowed heavily from the largest banks in Europe, the Florentine houses of the Bardi, Peruzzi and Acciaiuoli. Despite the victory at Crécy, the enormous expenses of the war were too much and Edward repudiated his loans. The Florentine banks were already in difficulty after their massive loans to the papacy and the Angevins of Naples, and this latest setback caused the collapse of all three houses, essentially ruining Florentine banking until the rise of the Medici, who operated on a greatly reduced scale.12

  Philip VI died in 1350 to be succeeded by his son Jean II, and it was in this year that Jean’s younger brother Louis became Count of Anjou. Both England and France were still recovering from the Black Death and Edward III was struggling to raise funds, but by 1355 he was ready to revive the campaign. Edward the Black Prince was sent to Aquitaine to begin another devastating chevauchée, and in 1356 he launched a raid that reached the city of Tours, though he was unable to take it. Jean II led an army to intercept him, and the Black Prince tried to elude the French and return to Aquitaine with his swollen baggage train.

  However, on Sunday 18 September 1356, the French army finally caught the English near Poitiers. As they prepared for battle, a papal legate begged the French not to attack because of the Truce of God, and Jean II agreed against the advice of his Marshal and others, allowing the English additional time to prepare.

  Just as at Crécy, the English were arrayed in a favourable position with orchards and hedges shielding their flanks. The Earl of Douglas, who led a Scottish contingent with the French army, advised the French knights to dismount for the attack, sound advice since horses were much more vulnerable to arrows than the heavily armoured knights. This shows that the French did learn from their defeats and attempt different tactics, which would finally bear fruit, though not for many decades.

  Although the result of Poitiers was even more overwhelming than Crécy, the battle itself was a more straightforward affair. The French attacked and suffered heavy losses from the arrows, but the division led by the Dauphin reached the English line and engaged them. The Dauphin, the future Charles V ‘the Wise’, was very much in the bookish mould of Robert the Wise, yet he acquitted himself well at Poitiers and would prove to be a remarkable king. Accompanying him in the front line were his brothers, the seventeen-year-old Louis of Anjou and the sixteen-year-old Jean, who would become the renowned aesthete the Duke of Berry. This first attack was driven back and threw the next division into confusion. Jean II saw the army faltering and flung his own division, the strongest, into the battle. The French now seem to have regrouped, but the Black Prince launched a reserve force into Jean II’s flank. The French army disintegrated under the attack and Jean II and his last son, the fifteen-year-old Philip the Bold, future Duke of Burgundy, were surrounded. Jean II was asked to surrender, and according to Froissart, courteously replied that he would prefer to surrender to the Black Prince himself, and this being accepted he and Philip were escorted to the prince.13

  One of the barons killed at Poitiers was Robert of Durazzo. The Durazzo branch of the Neapolitan Angevins was becoming quite active against Queen Johanna in this period, but their unwavering hostility to Louis the Great over the murder of Charles of Durazzo directed some of their energy away from her. Robert of Durazzo went to the French court, where he w
as knighted, in hopes of receiving French support for a challenge to Louis the Great to a trial by combat to avenge his brother’s death. He never achieved this, instead serving the French king at Poitiers where he met his death.

  To face another such disaster only ten years after Crécy and six years after the Black Death was a heavy blow for France. The Dauphin Charles took over the kingdom in his father’s absence, but popular unrest over the cost of the war led to uprisings by the bourgeoisie in Paris, and even the peasants rebelled in the movement known as the jacquerie. Tired of being the victims of English raids and receiving no protection from the king, large numbers of peasants rose against their lords, and quickly stories spread of rape, pillage and murder across northern France.14

  The peasants were not alone. As we know, in the Middle Ages there were not yet professional national armies, so after Poitiers the English and Gascon mercenaries and foreign troops who had fought for the Black Prince were left to their own devices. Released from English service, these men – many of whom were knights – became the ‘Free Companies’, the mercenary armies that would plague France and Italy for the next few decades. Although they were essentially bandits who ravaged the countryside, burned villages and extorted ransom money from towns in return for not sacking them, they were also professional armies at a time when states lacked them, and the companies would flourish because they were routinely employed by both sides in the war.

  The Dauphin himself enlisted the support of Arnaut de Cervole, known as the ‘Archpriest’, who led the most notorious of the Gascon companies, in a design against Queen Johanna. In 1357 the Archpriest invaded Provence and attacked Avignon, and he was definitely in contact with Johanna’s enemies Louis of Durazzo (father of Charles III of Durazzo who would eventually overthrow and murder Johanna) and the powerful des Baux family. Pope Innocent VI wrote to the Dauphin complaining that attacks were being made on Provence in the Dauphin’s name and possibly even at his command, and he reminded the Dauphin that Provence belonged to Johanna. The Dauphin naturally disavowed the actions of the Archpriest, who was entertained lavishly by the pope and then given a huge ransom to take his army elsewhere.15

  As this turmoil engulfed France, what had happened to the captive King Jean II? Jean was entertained royally by Edward III, and after riding through London on a white horse as part of the Black Prince’s triumphal procession, he was installed in the Savoy Palace. Despite the impeccable treatment of the king, the treaty that Edward III proposed is striking. Edward demanded no less than the restoration of the entire Angevin Empire to England – Normandy, Anjou, Maine and Poitou were to be added to Aquitaine – plus additional territory all the way to Calais, all with full sovereignty and in addition to a heavy ransom. Jean accepted the treaty in 1359, and this attempt to turn the clock back to 1200 is an astonishing result. Despite Jean II’s agreement, the treaty was sent to Paris where the Dauphin and his council rejected it.

  Proof that England had essentially won the war came when Edward III retaliated by invading France at the end of 1359 with the goal of being crowned king of France in Reims. However, Reims was prepared for a siege and the English were unable to do more than make a military demonstration. The English moved on to Paris in early 1360 and were equally unable to take the city, but their ability to march through the countryside with impunity is remarkable. The Dauphin Charles showed his mettle by refusing to be drawn into another disastrous battle and holding his nerve in the well-fortified cities, until Edward III was forced to make another proposal.

  This was the Treaty of Brétigny, and its terms were still quite harsh for France. Calais and an expanded Aquitaine comprising around one third of France were ceded outright to Edward, plus a huge ransom of three million écus. However, Edward renounced his claim to the throne, and also gave up his claim to Normandy, Anjou, Maine and Touraine. This treaty would be the framework for all activity in the war for the next few decades when both sides jockeyed for position. After the treaty was agreed, Jean II was released and allowed to return to France, but only in exchange for hostages, and these hostages included his son Louis of Anjou.16

  Louis joined a group of forty hostages including Jean the future Duke of Berry, the Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Bourbon plus other nobles and notable knights. They were forced to live in England at their own expense, though this did not prevent many of them from living lives of extreme luxury. Although we hear of them being guarded, the conditions of their captivity seem no more onerous than those of Jean II. Indeed, they seem to have moved between England and newly English Calais with only their word as their guarantee, as we would expect for knights of the most chivalrous kingdom in Europe. Louis of Anjou, who had recently married Marie of Blois-Penthevieres in July 1360, was even given permission to visit his wife in Boulogne. He then broke his word and refused to return to Calais.17

  On the one hand this is a shocking breach of knightly etiquette, but on the other we have seen countless examples of knights, nobles and kings breaking their word whenever it suited them, particularly at times of war, and there was always a good reason and they were always able to find a clergyman to absolve them of whatever oath they were breaking. We don’t have specific information about Louis being absolved, but no opprobrium seems to have attached to him for this faithlessness.

  One person, however, took these matters very seriously, and that was Jean II. Now that one of the hostages had broken his word, and more importantly, given that the ransom payments were grossly in arrears, Jean made what is seen as the extraordinary decision to return to captivity. Jean is heavily criticized by modern historians, with justification, for this behaviour. We have seen other kings captured in battle, and their absolute priority was to gain their freedom so they could return to their kingdoms, which were usually in turmoil during their absence. Not so Jean II. There was never any question of Jean being ill-treated in England; quite the contrary, as Edward III took this opportunity to show to the full how wealthy, cultured and chivalrous the English court was. Naturally Jean was enchanted, and although he had returned to his devastated kingdom, he seemed to feel no need to remain there. In January 1364 he returned to his welcome confinement in England, and died shortly after in April, said by some to have been so indulged with banquets and feasting that it caused his death. Although he seems a jolly chivalrous figure, Jean II was simply a bad king and his willingness to leave his son to pick up the pieces makes him an unattractive character.

  His death was a blessing for France, who now in Charles V ‘the Wise’ had a king who proved more than a match for Edward III. Charles steadily reversed the consequences of France’s catastrophic defeats in the war, and also addressed problems such as the Free Companies. One means of dispersing the companies was to send them to war elsewhere. They were happy to work for the highest bidder, and frequently found themselves supporting both sides in a war at various times. Under the guise of a Crusade against the Moors of Granada, Charles organized an expedition to Spain to intervene in a civil war between Pedro the Cruel and Enrique de Trastamara. This was led by the Breton knight Bertrand du Guesclin, who would become the most famous knight in France and remain a chivalric hero into modern times. After initial French success overthrew Pedro and installed Enrique on the throne of Castile, the Black Prince intervened, and Castile became the battleground in a proxy war between England and France. A second battle, at Najera in 1367, reversed the previous result with the Black Prince victorious, du Guesclin captured and Pedro the Cruel restored to the throne. Also participating in the battle was Queen Johanna’s estranged third husband, James IV of Majorca.

  Although the English candidate was successful, the defeat at Najera was of little consequence to France, and as would often be the case, was something of a win-win for Charles V. He had rid France of a substantial number of mercenaries, and after Pedro repudiated his debts to the Black Prince, the victory turned into a financial disaster for the English in Gascony. Within two years du Guesclin was back in Spain and defeated Pedro the Cru
el at the Battle of Montiel in 1369. Enrique of Trastamara murdered the captive Pedro after the battle and took the throne, resulting in a Castilian–French alliance that would prove highly beneficial to France.18

  The Black Prince’s position, and his health, deteriorated rapidly after the Battle of Najera. Aquitaine was financially crippled, and as resistance to the Prince’s rule grew, disaffected nobles appealed to Charles V as their overlord for redress. By the terms of the Treaty of Brétigny this should not have been possible, as Aquitaine was now held freely by the English king, but the terms of Brétigny had never really been met by the French and they now repudiated the treaty. Charles V summoned the Black Prince to Paris to answer the charges against him, and when he failed to appear Charles declared the duchy forfeit in May 1369 and resumed the Hundred Years War.

  Despite this aggressive stance, Charles maintained his successful strategy of avoiding open warfare, instead harrying the English troops. Du Guesclin now led the fight, being named Marshal of France in 1370, and won a series of victories. By 1375 the French had recovered all their territories except Gascony and Calais, nullifying the terms of the Treaty of Brétigny and nearly restoring the situation to what it was before the war. The Black Prince, his health broken, returned to England and died in 1376, followed by Edward III in 1377.19

  The Wheel of Fortune had turned again, and after the victory at Poitiers seemed to have won the war for England, now France was in the ascendant. However, both France and England would very soon enter periods of dynastic turmoil as a consequence of bad kingship, and more importantly for our purposes, the Second House of Anjou would intervene directly in the affairs of Naples and enter into a conflict that endured until the extinction of the Angevin line.