by Jack Lindsay
Next, conflict flared up on a secular issue, in which the count of Boulogne played a part:
And then came Eustace from oversea shortly after the bishop, and went to the king and talked over with him what he wished, and then set off on his way home. When he came to Canterbury, he and his men had a meal there and went to Dover. When he was some miles or more this side of Dover, he put on his mailcoat, and all his companions did the same, and went to Dover. When they arrived, they wanted to lodge where they pleased. Then one of his men came and wanted to lodge at the house of a certain householder against his wish, and wounded the householder, and the householder killed him. Then Eustace got on his horse and his companions on theirs, and went to the householder and killed him upon his own hearth. Then they went up towards the town and killed both inside and outside it more than twenty men; and the townsmen killed nineteen men on the other side and wounded they didn’t know how many. And Eustace escaped with a few men and went back to the king and gave a one-sided account of how they had fared; and the king was greatly incensed against the townsmen and summoned Earl Godwin and ordered him to carry war into Kent to Dover, because Eustace had told the king that it was more the townsmen’s fault than his, though it was not so. And the earl could on no account agree to the foray because it was abhorrent to him to injure the people of his own province (Chronicle E).[128]
The troubles over the two sees and over the foray at Dover all concerned foreigners; it would seem that Edward was setting himself to bring in Normans and others who might in time be able to outweigh the power of Godwin and his sons. The Chronicle suggests that tension had been mounting between English and Normans. ‘At that time the foreigners had built a castle in Herefordshire in Earl Sweyn’s territory and inflicted all the injuries and insults they possibly could upon the king’s men in that region.’ It is even highly likely that, under the influence of Robert of Jumièges and perhaps of Eustace, Edward was developing a pro-Norman attitude and had sent a message to William naming him as his heir. We see that he could act strongly if necessary, and for a year he was in control of policy. Foreigners were given places at court or appointed to offices in the country; the English attitude was that these men ‘promoted injustice, gave unjust judgments, and counselled folly’: which suggests perhaps that they created grievances not only through greed but also through ignorance of the running of the English system.
After the affair at Dover Edward called two councils, and finally Godwin and his sons were exiled. But the statement that their estates were granted to foreigners seems an extreme exaggeration. They made no resistance to the sentence. Godwin with his sons Sweyn, Tostig, and Gyrth, went to Flanders; Harold and Leofwin went to Ireland; and Queen Edith was put into a nunnery. Baldwin seems to have helped Godwin, perhaps resentful of the way in which Edward had gathered his fleet in 1049 and kept watch at Sandwich while the emperor attacked Flanders by land. Edward had been asked to prevent Baldwin from escaping by sea, though such a flight would have been very unlikely; no doubt the emperor wanted to divert Baldwin and stop him from massing troops for war in Lotharingia.[129]
Can we go further and find a pattern behind these events apart from a personal dislike of Godwin by Edward, and a liking for men of French culture? Edward had been lucky in gaining the throne without having to repel a Norse invasion. His mother seems certainly to have plotted for such an invasion, and the Danish threat continued. Edward and his councillors must have given much thought to it. Both Norman and Flemish ports had been used by Danes in the past; but the more recent provider of Danish bases had been Flanders. When it seemed that a bloody clash might come about between the king and Godwin, the Chronicle remarked: ‘It was hateful to almost all to fight against men of their own race; for there were few men else of any consequence except Englishmen on either side. And besides they were unwilling to increase the danger of leaving this land wide open to the invasion of foreigners, if each side were to destroy the other.’ Who were these feared foreigners? Not the Normans, whom no one at this stage could have seen as possible invaders; not the Flemish, however devious the policy of Baldwin. They could only be Danes and Norwegians; the leader most feared was Harald Hardrada. It is probable then that a strong section of the council, as well as the king, inclined to a policy of good relations with Normandy to offset the unreliability of Baldwin and the threat of Harald — while Godwin, with his strong Danish affiliations, opposed this attitude and was suspected of being likely to turn traitor if a Danish invasion was attempted and seemed to be succeeding. (The appointment of Herman to the see of Ramsbury in 1045 may have been an attempt by Godwin’s group to bring in a cleric with Flemish links to balance Edward’s French appointments.)
Whatever the reasons, the failure of Godwin to offer any resistance to Edward shows the strength of the English kingship, unparalleled in western Europe.
The Danish threat was kept alive over these years by such events as the attack in 1049 by Norsemen on Wales:
Thirty-six ships came from Ireland up the Welsh Usk and did evil thereabouts, helped by Gruffydd, the Welsh king. Forces were gathered against them, and bishop Ealdred went with them, but there were too few troops and the enemy took them by surprise when it was quite early morning and killed many good men there, and the others escaped with the bishop (Chronicle D).
And in 1055 Aelfgar, son of the Mercian earl, exiled for unknown reasons, raised a force of eighteen ships from among the Vikings in Ireland, and then, in alliance with Gruffydd, invaded England, making for Herefordshire, where he defeated the local militia, who were getting ready to fight on horseback. The general fyrd was called out and an army led by Harold (now back from exile) came up. Aelfgar fell back into the Black Mountain and Harold negotiated terms with him; Aelfgar was restored to his rank and possessions. We see how easily Viking forces could become involved in any internal dissensions; and there could not but be a fear that warriors coming as allies of some English malcontent would turn into invaders on their own account.
Godwin was not a man likely to skulk idly in exile. In 1052, aided by Baldwin, he gathered a fleet and landed in the south of England. The people of the region welcomed him, especially the Londoners. But once more there was no recourse to civil war. Commonsense prevailed. The position of the foreigners had become untenable. Robert of Jumièges and Ulf fled overseas; Robert ‘was declared an outlaw, together with all the Frenchmen, for they were the cause of all the ill-feeling which had arisen between him [Godwin] and the king’. However, Edward was allowed to keep the foreigners whom he favoured at court. But events of 1054 serve to show how easy it is to oversimplify the picture from the scanty records of the chronicles:
In this year early Siward [of Northumbria] invaded Scotland with a great host both by sea and land, and fought against Scots. He put to flight their king Macbeth and killed the noblest of the land, carrying off much plunder such as no one had previously won. But his son Osbern and Siward his sister’s son and numbers of his housecarles as well as those of the king were killed there on the festival of the Seven Sleepers [27 July]. This same year Ealdred went oversea to Cologne on a mission for the king and was there received with great ceremony by the emperor. He stayed there almost a year and was entertained by both the bishop of Cologne and the emperor, and he gave permission to bishop Leofwin to consecrate the monastery church at Evesham on 10 October. In this same year Osgod died suddenly in his bed.
We learn that in Macbeth’s army there died fighting many Northmanni, not chance Vikings but ‘French castle-men’ from Herefordshire under ‘Osbern and Hugue, his ally’.[130] The mission of bishop Ealdred was connected with the negotiations for the return of Edward, son of Edmund Ironside, whom it had now been agreed should become heir to the throne and who arrived back in 1057. Such negotiations could only have gone on if there had been full agreement between the king and his council on the matter; whatever arrangements had been made with William of Normandy in 1051 would have been cancelled.
Godwin and his sons had a stronger
position than ever after 1052. But in 1053 Godwin died and Harold took his place as head of the family. Sweyn had died in exile on his way back from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Harold seems to have been the most balanced of them all, courageous but careful, seeking conciliation where possible, generous, and without the violences of Sweyn or the hard, closed ambition of his father. Whether he had any outstanding political capacity, we cannot judge. He was a friend of Wulfstan, bishop of Worcester, who was pleased to act as his confessor; and he founded a community of secular canons at Waltham Cross in 1061. He also made a pilgrimage to Rome. But he was no doubt merely doing the things expected of a man in his position. He was shrewd enough not to marry in a church till he was king, so that he could use the offer of his hand as a political bargaining counter. In two campaigns, 1056 and 1063, he dealt efficiently with Gruffydd ap Llwelyn, who dominated Wales, and pacified the borderlands. And he carried on his father’s policy of aggrandizing the family. He himself took over Wessex, which was expanded to bring in the Welsh marches of Gloucester and Hereford. When Siward’s death in loss left the earldom of Northumbria vacant, Tostig was given it. Siward’s son was a child and a strong hand was needed in the north where the Scottish king was brooding over his recent defeat and the Danes might attack at any time.
When Leofric of Mercia died, Aelfgar gave up East Anglia (which Harold had let him have on becoming Earl of Wessex) and took over his father’s Mercia; East Anglia now went to Gyrth, while another brother, Leofwine, became earl of counties north and south of London, partly taken from Mercia. So the sons of Godwin held all England but the reduced Mercia, which in 1062 fell into the hands of young Edgar, son of Aelfgar. That king Edward, with his odd powers of adaptation, did not altogether resent the situation, was shown by his friendship with Tostig.
But Tostig was not popular in Northumbria. In late 1065 the people there rose against him, won the support of Edwin of Mercia and his brother Morcar, and chose the latter as their earl. (We have no evidence that Edwin or Morcar stimulated the revolt.) Neither Edward nor Harold made any attempt to resist. They accepted Morcar and agreed that Siward’s son Waltheof should have an earldom made up out of lands in the midlands. Tostig went off with wife and followers into exile in Flanders and wintered at St Omer, welcomed by Baldwin. Edward moved to Westminster toward Christmas and the new abbey was consecrated on 28 December, Holy Innocents Day. He died on the Vigil of the Epiphany and was buried next day in the abbey, on 6 January 1066. On his deathbed he named Harold as his successor. Harold was the only man with anything like a princely status who was capable of defending the realm; he was Edward’s brother-in-law and first cousin of the Danish king, though lacking any direct link with the Wessex royal line. He was clearly ready to accept the crown; and the magnates in council, assembled in unusual strength for the Christmas festivities and the abbey’s consecration, seem to have given no sign whatever of disagreeing with Edward’s choice. Edwin and Morcar must have been present, and their conduct in the following months proves that they fully accepted Harold’s election. He on his part married their sister to consolidate his position. Probably he expected more trouble from Denmark than from Normandy over his accession.
*
Now let us look at how William had been getting on in Normandy. He seems to have spent his first years at Falaise, at his mother’s house. When his father died, he was only seven or eight years old. Though there was no challenge to his accession, his reign was soon troubled. The leading lords, who were often counts, had distant ancestors in common with the rulers; and further mating among the nobles may well have increased the tangle of kinships.[131] There was even a son of Richard II, who avoided attention however, by becoming a monk. William’s guardians were Alan of Brittany, Gilbert count of Brionne, a remote relation of the royal family, Osbern, seneschal, and Turold, William’s tutor; they were all to die violently. Meanwhile they put the lad in the strong castle of Vaudreuil. His education seems to have been neglected; and unlike his predecessors he is said to have been unable to read or write, though no doubt that is an exaggeration.
The various revolts may well have aimed at getting control of his person rather than at killing or demoting him. The temptation of a minor in charge seems to have been too much for the barons. The first revolt was led by William of Montgomery, who penetrated the ducal bedroom one night and killed the tutor and Osbern (son of Gunnor’s brother); but Walter, Herleva’s brother, saved the young duke. Next Gilbert de Brionne was murdered while out riding, and Alan of Brittany was poisoned in 1040. The second revolt was led by Hugh de Montfort, Roger de Toeny, and Raoul Wace, who had killed Gilbert. It failed, but as a compromise William accepted Wace as his tutor.
So far he had had no troubles from France; but now without warning King Henry invaded the Evrecin and demanded the castle of Tillieres. After an uncertain campaign, William agreed to give up the castle if it were dismantled and not repaired for four years. But Henry, after gaining it, passed on to Argentan, which he burned; then went ahead at once with rebuilding Tillières. William established his court at Valognes. In 1042 came another revolt. Thurstan Goz seized Falaise, but was defeated by Wace.
William was now about sixteen, a fine rider, swordsman, and archer. In 1043-4 he was knighted. It was a moment, says William of Poitiers, which all France dreaded: ‘a splendid sight, delightful yet terrible, to see him gripping the reins, girt about with his sword, shining under his buckler, menacing with his helmet and lance.’[132] Now he was no longer the more or less passive centre of a storm of intrigues and dangers. He tackled the situation as a soldier and triumphed. And a soldier he remained all his years, tough, callous, keen to scent threat and deceit, and quick to meet all challenges with complete ruthlessness. At the same time he was not rash or liable to be carried away by temper; he could prudently judge a situation, and, when advisable, build up his strength before striking. Distrustful, keeping his thoughts and plans to himself, he translated his struggle to overcome the anarchy of treachery and revolt in his early years into a creed of order at all costs. In so far as he had any political ideas, he had a belief that a ruler must rule as thoroughly and authoritatively as possible. His aim was simply to overcome insecurity and construct a strong basis of power and wealth; to achieve this end he pragmatically used any form or institution which he encountered and which he felt capable of moulding to his will. In the end, carrying the ideas learned in Normandy into England, he did much to construct a new system, or at least one much more advanced than elsewhere in Europe.
In 1047 came the most serious revolt of all. This time the aim certainly was to kill or expel William and put in his place Guy, son of Renaud of Burgundy, with one of Richard II’s five daughters, who had resided in Burgundy a lot as a boy and had had several lordships bestowed on him. The conspirators almost caught William at Valognes; but his jester is said to have rushed in and woken him in time. William slipped off across the Vire to Bayeux, but found that it would be too risky to enter the town. He rode round through a suburb to a supporter near Cherbourg, then was escorted to Falaise. Considering the situation, he decided that Henry of France would dislike Normandy falling into Burgundian hands. He rode on to Poiny, whence he appealed to the king, who promised him aid. The lords who opposed him included the vicomtes of the Bessin and the Cotentin, so it would seem that there was still something of a split between eastern and western Normandy, with the eastern section cherishing its Norse past and opposed to the inroads of Frankish feudalism.
Henry and William together advanced to meet the rebels at Valès-Dunes, south-east of Caen. They won a complete victory, though at one moment Henry, fighting the Cotentin contingent, was dismounted. William had the good sense not to take harsh reprisal against the defeated lords, apart from Grimoald du Plessis whom for some reason he would not forgive. He knew that he had now proved himself and could use his triumph to impose the sort of order he wanted. He insisted on all the rebels making submission; every lord must pay homage; castles without licence were destr
oyed.
He was soon able to pay his debt to Henry and gain much satisfaction from the payment. Henry quarrelled in 1048 with Geoffrey Martel of Anjou, whom William hated for having seized Alençon and Domfront, while becoming friendly with the Bellêmes. William attacked Alençon, where the townspeople hung out newly flayed skins on their walls. As the Normans came up, they beat the skins and shouted, ‘Plenty of work for the tanner’s son! plenty of work for the tanner!’ William retorted with a fierce assault that took a number of prisoners — thirty-four, we are told. These men were paraded under the walls; their hands and feet were cut off and thrown into the town; their eyes were put out and they were left to crawl home if they could. Their fellow townsmen were threatened with the same fate when taken. The town at once surrendered. William built a frontier castle and withdrew. In the campaign he had showed his energy and initiative by leading his knights in scouting forays and raids; once in his ardour he nearly attacked the allied troops of Theobald of Blois and Chartres. William of Poitiers in his eulogistic biography claims that he showed himself the world’s chief knight, though guilty of rash scorn of danger. Exactly what title the Norman rulers had come to bear is unclear. William of Poitiers does not distinguish between William as comes, dux, and princeps (count, duke, and prince); Ordericus Vitalis, who completed his history by 1141, often calls him marchio, marquis. On documents he is often styled count, no doubt the correct title in his overlord’s eyes; but writers dwelling on his prowess tend to call him Dux Normanorum, a term stressing his role as general. Duke, the title he most likely preferred, may then be used of him; and indeed it became for the historians the title accorded to all the counts back to Rollo.
After the war against Anjou, trouble at once broke out again. The son of William’s uncle, archbishop of Rouen, conspired with other nobles, but was betrayed. He managed to slip off to south Italy. His county, Mortain, was given by William to his half-brother Robert de Centeville. Meanwhile one of the rebel castles of 1047, Brionne, had continued to hold out and was not taken till perhaps late in 1049. It stood on an islet between two arms of a river. William had invested it, built rough castles round it, and then tried to starve or tire it out.
