The Greatest Knight

by Thomas Asbridge

  The role of William Marshal

  That evening, Marshal sought the advice of his closest confidants, seemingly plagued by real doubts over which course to follow. Probably drawing upon the testimony of John of Earley, the History recalled the heated debate that followed. John Marshal apparently emphasised the great ‘honour’ that might be earned from leading the new king’s armies. It was also suggested that, as leader, Marshal would ‘be in a position to make all your men – rich if it so please you’. This might seem like an astonishingly mercenary sentiment, but it simply reflected the well-established notion that a lord was obliged to reward his knights – indeed, William Marshal may have mobilised precisely the same argument himself some four decades earlier as a member of Henry the Young King’s retinue.

  As the discussion continued, only John of Earley was said to have objected, concerned that his beloved master – the man he had served for more than thirty years – might be broken by the looming conflagration. Marshal was now nearly seventy: a remarkably advanced age in an era when most men were fortunate to live past their forties. Earley cautioned the earl, saying ‘your body is in decline, both through your exertions and old age’, and pointing out the stark fact that ‘the king has barely any resources’. He concluded with a blunt warning: ‘I fear greatly the pain and great trouble involved will be difficult for you to endure.’

  This scene, as portrayed in the History, cannot necessarily be taken at face value. Earley was an eyewitness, but he also seems to have been at pains to emphasise his own role in offering sage counsel. Perhaps William Marshal did harbour serious misgivings about shouldering the onerous burden of leadership on the night of 28 October, or was suddenly struck by a wave of apprehension, once the stark reality of his position alongside Henry III hit home. The account could also reflect the memory of a broader discussion that actually began once news of King John’s death was received. Of course, it may be that the biographer constructed the whole debate to counter any suggestion that Marshal pursued power out of self-interest; playing on the age-old theme of the great man reluctant to accept office and honour.

  On the following day, Ranulf of Chester rode into Gloucester. Some members of his retinue complained that the coronation should have been postponed until he arrived, but Ranulf himself ignored these jibes, and seems to have openly encouraged Marshal to accept the position of regent. At this stage, Ranulf appears to have been understandably wary of becoming the figurehead of such an embattled party, though he would later make a brief and fruitless attempt to convince Guala to divide the responsibility of leadership between himself and Earl William. On 29 October 1216, however, it was agreed ‘by common counsel’, that Marshal should be appointed as the secular leader of the royalist cause. As papal legate, Guala offered William a hugely compelling reward in return for this service – a full ‘remission and pardon of his sins’. As a result, the earl agreed, and was said to have declared himself ready ‘to take on this role as regent . . . whatever it may cost me’.

  Marshal thus assumed the position of ‘guardian of the realm’. Together with Guala, he now bore full responsibility for the royalist cause and the defence of King Henry III’s rights, though the day-to-day care and custody of the young monarch was apportioned to Peter des Roches, because William himself needed to be free to move through the realm as regent. Marshal’s willingness to assume this office later earned him high praise in a royal letter authorised by Guala. His ‘devotion and constancy’ was applauded, and he was commended above ‘all other magnates of our kingdom, since in our necessity he has proved himself like gold in the furnace’ – seemingly a scriptural allusion to the testing of men’s hearts.

  Later that day, William met once again with Earley and John Marshal. According to the History, the earl confessed himself to be daunted by the task now set before him, saying: ‘I have embarked upon the open sea’ like a sailor who has no hope of finding the ‘bottom or shore, and from which it is a miracle if he reaches port and a safe haven.’ John of Earley comforted his lord, and together they resolved to remain steadfast. Should England fall to Louis of France, Earley argued, they could retreat to Ireland, gaining ‘high honour’ for their resolute loyalty. At this, William was said to have declared: ‘If everyone abandons the boy but me, do you know what I shall do? I will carry him on my back, and if I can hold him up, I will hop from island to island, from country to country, even if I have to beg for my bread.’

  William Marshal had risen to an unimaginable height. The landless younger son was now effectively ruler of England. It was an unprecedented ascent; the apogee of his career. But this honour also meant that William’s fate, and that of his dynasty and leading knights, was irrevocably interwoven with that of the young King Henry III.

  RESTORING THE FORTUNES OF THE CROWN

  William Marshal, Guala and the other leading members of the royalist faction travelled south to Bristol in early November 1216, convening a major council of all those loyal to King Henry III and the Angevin cause. To have any hope of guiding this party to victory, Marshal would have to draw upon the many skills he had acquired in the course of his life: the intimate knowledge of warfare and astute grasp of generalship, honed alongside Richard the Lionheart; and the political acuity, diplomatic sense and tempered judgement, proven in the royal court and tested on the international stage.

  William also possessed a finely tuned appreciation of the baronial mindset and the power of chivalric ideals. He understood the system of patronage, the potent allure of land and office, and the importance of honour and knightly service – and thus knew how to harness these forces and impulses to secure the new king’s position and, with luck, prise away supporters from the rebel faction. In this regard, Earl William’s near-legendary status as a renowned warrior and paragon of virtue lent a compelling, totemic power to his leadership. He was a living relic of the bygone age of Angevin glory; a man who could readily command respect and allegiance.

  In the course of the assembly at Bristol, Marshal’s pre-eminent position within the royalist faction was confirmed and his formal title agreed. There was no legal precedent for his office. Regents were customarily expected to possess a hereditary or familial link to the crown, but William could boast no such connection. As a result, he adopted the more ephemeral title of ‘guardian’, and thereafter was described within documents issued in Henry III’s name as ‘rector nostri et regni nostri’ (‘our guardian and the guardian of our realm’). With this formality attended to, the council turned to the more pressing business – the king’s prospects in the civil war.

  The baronial faction had suffered some notable losses in recent months. Geoffrey Mandeville, earl of Essex, was slain during a sporting joust with the French, while Eustace of Vesci had died after being shot through the head by an arrow during an attack on Durham, in northern England. Nonetheless, the rebels still clearly held the balance of power and resources. They continued to dominate much of northern, eastern and south-eastern England, including London; and they enjoyed the backing of the Scots. Most importantly of all, the barons’ alliance with Prince Louis of France meant that the internecine conflict had assumed an international character, with the might of the Capetian dynasty brought to bear in England.

  The royalists’ strategy

  Henry III’s supporters retained control of a number of significant castles embedded in enemy-held territory – most notably Dover, Windsor and Lincoln – and had a relatively firm grasp over west and south-west England, with Bristol as an administrative centre. They could also call upon the services of some notable military commanders, such as Hubert of Burgh and Faulkes of Bréauté. But in other respects, William Marshal and his allies were in a desperately weak position, short of money and manpower, and bereft of allies. Earl William and Guala now set out to address these deficiencies, taking a number of carefully considered steps designed to spark a renewal of the royalists’ fortunes.

  To assert the legitimacy of Henry III’s reign, they made a calculated effo
rt to distance the boy-king from his late father’s detested regime. A royal letter was distributed, in which Henry mentioned the ‘quarrel’ of the past, but stated in clear terms that ‘we wish to remove it for ever since it has nothing to do with us’. Most importantly, Marshal and Guala issued a redrafted version of Magna Carta in Henry III’s name on 12 November 1216. This document was the equivalent of a political manifesto – a statement of intent, declaring Henry’s willingness to rule with a fair and even hand, for the ‘common utility of all’. This new Magna Carta restated many of the key principles of the 1215 charter – with promises to uphold justice and ancient custom, and rebalance the relationship between the king and his subjects – but it was shorter and more focused, with just forty clauses, rather than sixty-three. A number of the more controversial terms agreed at Runnymede were excised, including the panel of twenty-five barons, and the text also made it clear that the stated terms would be open to further negotiation.

  The 1216 Magna Carta was distinctive in two further regards. It was not a mere peace treaty, extracted under duress from an embattled monarch, but a freely given assurance of rights. Crucially, the document was also issued with the full and unequivocal support of the papal legate, Guala. It bore his seal and that of William Marshal, the ‘guardian of the realm’. As such, it was imbued with a far greater sense of permanence. Its text could no longer be casually nullified by Rome. It was this document, validated by Guala and Marshal, which resurrected Magna Carta – the discarded pact of 1215. This development represented a critical step in English history, for without this reissue and those that followed in later years, the Great Charter would have been forgotten.

  The 1216 Magna Carta was published in the hope of broadening Henry III’s base of support and winning over members of the baronial party to the royalist cause. In pursuit of this goal, William Marshal followed the same approach to reconciliation that he had employed in Leinster in 1208. Rebels who returned to the king were to be shown leniency, not punished out of hand. They were offered guarantees of safe conduct to discuss terms, and the restitution of lost lands. This was a sound policy, but as yet it elicited little or no response. Most advocates of the baronial cause still believed that Prince Louis of France would eventually be proclaimed as the rightful king of England, and expected to receive ample rewards of lands and offices from the new monarch. While these ingrained, vested interests remained in place, there would be few converts to the royalist faction.

  William Marshal also made a concerted effort to address Henry III’s dire lack of financial resources. Outstanding debts to King John’s mercenaries had to be paid and the defence of royalist outposts funded. William took the bold step of liquidating John’s royal treasures, then stored in Corfe Castle and the stronghold at Devizes. The latter fortress alone produced a bewildering array of rings set with precious and semiprecious stones – fifteen with diamonds, twenty-eight with rubies and no less than 218 set with either emeralds or sapphires. Much of this haul went to Hubert of Burgh at Dover Castle, the lynchpin of royalist resistance in the south-east. Marshal likewise made further attempts to call for taxes and other forms of royal revenue, but the system of crown administration lay in ruins, so these measures proved largely ineffective. The issue of liquidity was of critical importance. Earl William recognised that the royalists could not afford to wage a prolonged military campaign against the baronial rebels and their French allies for the simple reason that Henry III would soon be penniless. This meant that the only viable course of action was to seek a swift and decisive confrontation.

  The sparks of hope

  The royalists limped on through December in a forlorn state, but with the dawning of the New Year their prospects began to improve. Prince Louis had a firm hold over eastern England and retained control of London, but he believed that, to press home his advantage and complete the conquest of England, a fresh influx of manpower and resources would be needed. As a result, the Capetian agreed a truce with the royalists in January 1217 and promptly sailed back to France to raise reinforcements. During the subsequent lull in hostilities, a number of rebel barons finally responded to William Marshal’s overtures and declared their allegiance to King Henry.

  Some appear to have been disenchanted with their ill-mannered French allies. Others had become understandably concerned that Louis was planning to distribute the lion’s share of any forthcoming conquests to his Capetian followers, thus depriving the English nobles of their expected rewards. Under these circumstances, backing the royalist camp seemed to offer the best chance of advancement. The ‘reversi’, or ‘returners’ as they were described in royal records, were welcomed without punishment. The most important convert, William Longsword, earl of Salisbury – King Henry III’s half-uncle – came back into the fold on 5 March, and he brought his close friend and ally, Young William Marshal, with him.

  In this same period, Guala of Bicchieri took the extraordinary step of proclaiming the war in support of Henry III to be the equivalent of a crusade. The pope had declared, in somewhat vague terms, that this struggle ‘earned glory in the eyes of men and merits in the eyes of God’, but his legate went further. Guala permitted the royalists to bear the cross of a crusader on their clothes and promised them a remission of their sins. William Marshal would now be leading a holy war in England, sanctioned by the papacy. This was a remarkable transformation. As one contemporary observed: ‘Those who once called themselves the army of God, and boasted that they fought for the liberties of the Church and the kingdom, were [thereafter] reputed to be the sons of the Devil and compared to infidels.’ Even so, when Louis of France returned to England in late April with fresh troops, and the civil war drew towards its climax, it seemed that Marshal and his allies would need a miracle if they were to prevail.

  THE BATTLE OF LINCOLN

  In the late spring of 1217, it fell to William Marshal – now some seventy years old – to fight for King Henry III’s right to rule England. The earl understood that only a clear-cut victory against the French would cement the young monarch’s legitimacy and snuff out the baronial rebellion. William drew up his forces at Northampton, in the centre of the country, waiting for any opportunity to strike. Then suddenly, in early May, a slim chance presented itself. Prince Louis was determined to sweep up the remaining pockets of royalist resistance in eastern England before driving westwards. With this objective in mind, he divided his army in two, leading a force to besiege Dover Castle on 12 May, while a second contingent was sent north.

  This Anglo-French host contained many prominent rebels, including Robert FitzWalter and Saer of Quincy, along with more than 500 English knights, and around seventy Capetian knights alongside a large detachment of infantry, under the French commander Count Thomas of Perche. Together, these allies marched north to the walled town of Lincoln – a royalist stronghold that had already endured a long siege at the hands of the northern rebels and a sizeable party of Capetian troops.* Lincoln’s outer battlements had fallen, but Lady Nicola de la Haye retained control of its heavily fortified castle. The Anglo-French army now intended to bludgeon her garrison into submission.

  The renewed assault on Lincoln posed a grave threat, but William Marshal also saw it as an opportunity to confront, and hopefully defeat, the allies when their army was not at full strength. Assembling every available ounce of fighting manpower, William mustered the royalist forces at Newark, the site of King John’s death, twenty-five miles southwest of Lincoln. Troops started to arrive on 17 May, and a number of contemporary sources offer quite precise estimates of their numbers. The biographer claimed to have access to an array of written sources at this point, so it is quite possible that he was working from an official muster list. The royalist army appears to have been made up of 406 knights, 317 crossbowmen and a large mixed force of ‘followers’, some of whom were non-combatant supporters and servants. Earl William held overall command, but other leading figures were also present, such as the armour-clad bishop Peter des Roches, Ranulf of Chester
, William Longsword, Faulkes of Bréauté, John Marshal and Young William Marshal.

  Earl William probably guessed that he would be heavily outnumbered in the fight ahead. Once the Anglo-French host joined up with the existing besiegers, Thomas of Perche and Robert FitzWalter must have had well in excess of 600 knights and several thousand infantry at their disposal. Marshal was only too aware of the dangers posed by a direct military engagement, but he judged that a gamble had to be taken, for if this enemy force could be confronted and defeated, it might tip the balance of the entire civil war. William resolved to risk the future of the Angevin dynasty, and his own career and life, on a pitched battle at Lincoln. In the words of the History, he was ready to ‘play for the highest stakes’.

  The preparations for battle

  The royalists made careful preparations in these final days, girding themselves for war. Guala proclaimed the excommunication of the French army and their allies, and performed the ritual of Mass for the supporters of Henry III’s cause, absolving them of their sins. In their own minds at least, Marshal’s troops would take to arms as holy warriors, bearing white crosses on their surcoats. According to the History, Earl William delivered a number of rousing speeches to his troops in this period, and while these cannot be taken as verbatim records, the terms and imagery used are revealing.