The Cilician Gates

In spring 1137 Emperor John II Komnenos led the Roman army into Cilicia, as part of his effort to reconquer former Roman provinces in Anatolia. 

The army entered via the Cilician Gates, a narrow pass 'above the clouds' in the Taurus Mountains. John's men were immediately assaulted by a hail of missiles, thrown down from above by Armenians waiting in ambush. Undismayed, the emperor led his troops onward through the pass, hacking through the Armenians to storm an unnamed fortress held by 'barbarians'.

The Cilician Gates today

John's deeds were praised by the poet, Italikos, who compared this battle to the famous Battle of Thermopylae, where the Persians were opposed by just 300 Spartans (and several thousand Greek auxiliaries, lest we forget). Italikos also compared John to the classical Greek hero, Theseus, and his defeat of the bandits Skironas and Sinis Pitukamptes on the road between Troezen and Athens. 

The emperor's most recent biographer, Maximilian C.G. Lau, has traced John's route through the mountains and identified the fortress as Gulek Kalesi (castle), the ruins of which still occupy a dizzying height, sixteen hundred metres above sea level. This version is supported by the Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, which describes John arriving in Cilicia through the Gates, and then sending a message to the Latin rulers of the Holy Land, asking them to pay their respects to him. 

Leonidas at Thermopyale by Jacques-Louis David (1814)

John's capture of this fortress secured both the pass and entrance to Cilicia from the north. He was then able to enter the province and advance on the city of Tarsus. Along the way his troops attacked lesser towns and strongholds and fought off Armenian skirmishers. Italikos records a fight at the River Lamos (modern Limonlu) where John's cavalry forced passage across the water. Another detachment was sent off to plunder 'watchful Askora', a rich territory north-west of the Cilician Gates.

Antony & Cleopatra by Edwin Austin Abbey (1909)

Finally, the main body of the imperial army arrived before the gates of Tarsus, famous as the birthplace of St Paul and the place where Mark Antony and Cleopatra first met. Here, John was met by Raymond of Antioch and Joscelin of Edessa, who had responded to his summons to come and pay homage to him. Overjoyed by their arrival, according to the Syriac Chronicle, John now prepared to storm the city. 

A fine head of white hair

On this day in 1408 the battle of Bramham Moor was fought in Yorkshire. This was the last battle of the Percy rebellion against Henry IV, or Henry of Bolingbroke, who had seized the throne from Richard II in 1399.

The Percies posed a serious threat to Henry's fragile regime. In 1403 he had narrowly won the battle of Shrewsbury and killed Henry 'Hotspur', the most famous of the Percy clan. However, pitched battles were rarely decisive, and Shrewsbury did not put an end to the disturbances in England. 

Hotspurs's father, the old Earl of Northumberland, fled to Scotland. In early February 1408 the king was informed that Northumberland and his loyal ally, Thomas Bardolf, had returned to raise a new army from the traditional Percy power base in the north. 

Despite his ill-health, Henry raced north to crush this latest revolt. His loyal sheriff of Yorkshire, Sir Thomas Rokeby, got there ahead of him. After mustering the local levies, Rokeby blocked the path of the rebel army at Grimbald Bridge near Knaresborough. This forced the earl to make a detour via Tadcaster, where his army was quickly surrounded by Lancastrian loyalists. 

Northumberland chose to make a stand on Bramham Moor, south of Wetherby. Battle was joined at about 2pm on 19th February. It probably began with an exchange of arrows, as the longbowmen on both sides sought to thin out the enemy ranks. 

Rokeby's main body then charged. After a brief but savage encounter, the rebels were utterly defeated. Northumberland himself was killed on the field, and Bardolf so badly wounded he died soon afterwards. Their heads were brought to Henry at Stony Stratford; he ordered that of Northumerbland, 'with its fine head of white hair', impaled on a lance and sent south to be displayed on London Bridge. His body was hanged, drawn and quartered and displayed in various towns, as was the custom for those deemed traitors.

The brief battle must have been hellish, fought during one of the harshest winters in living memory. Despite the appalling weather, and his own infirmity, Henry insisted on going north to supervise the mopping-up operations. He spent twelve days at Wheel Hall, south of York, sentencing or pardoning rebels, and then three weeks at Pontefract. By the end of May he was back in London. 

The stress of the revolt and its aftermath was too much for him. Towards the end of June 1408, after moving from London to Mortlake, Henry collapsed. His health would never recover. 

Stones and thunderbolts

The island fortress of Kizkalesi, Mersin Province, Turkey

In spring 1137, after months of preparation, Emperor John II Komnenos set out through the mountain passes of Pampylia. His objective was the coastal fortress of Seleukia, which was besieged by the army of Leon I, ruler of Armenia. After that he intended to conquer the former Roman province of Cilicia in southern Anatolia.

The situation was urgent. Leon had already captured the plains cities of Mopsuestia, Tarsus and Ardana, as well as Sarventikar, an important fortress that guarded the Amanian Gate: this was the main northern pass through the Amanus mountains (the Nur mountains in modern-day Turkey). 

Leon's control of these unstable lands, wracked by so many decades of war, was fragile. They were swarming with bandits, pirates, bands of nomadic Turks, as well as Isaurians still loyal to the distant Emperor in Constantinople. 

To make things worse, Leon himself had been captured by Raymond, the Frankish prince of Antioch, and thrown into prison. His three sons then fell out with each other. The eldest, Constantine, was blinded by his brothers, before they too were captured by the Franks. 

All of which made John II's task that much easier. Marching swiftly through the mountains, he attacked the twin fortresses of Korykos and Kizkalesi (pictured) which had been seized by the Armenians. They were soon bombarded into surrender: the poet, Italikos, described how Korykos was overwhelmed by the stones and 'thunderbolts' of the Emperor's siege weapons. The capture of this fort and its harbour was an essential first step for John's reconquest of Cilicia.

John then moved on towards Seleukia. The Armenians lifted the siege and withdrew, enabling the imperial army to march on towards Cilicia. His men entered the Cilician Gates through a narrow pass 'above the clouds', where they were ambushed by Armenians waiting on the rocky heights above. These men threw missiles down onto the heads of John's soldiers, but after hard fighting the Romans broke through and stormed an unnamed mountain stronghold. 

This stronghold has been identified with Gulek Kalesi (castle), a dramatically situated fortress inside the Taurus Mountains. Set high above the peaks, the castle has been described as:

"...like the nest of some prehistoric bird almost 1600 metres above sea level."

The capture of the fortress secured both the pass and the entrance to Cilicia from the north. John was now poised to drive further into Cilicia, capturing or destroying smaller castles and settlements en route to the plains cities. 

A toothless dog

An image of Edmund of Lancaster and St George

#OTD in 1273 Edmund of Lancaster appealed to the council in London for military aid against Robert de Ferrers, Earl of Derby.

Derby had attacked Chartley in Staffordshire, one of his old manors, and stormed the castle at night. Edmund quickly raised an army to besiege the castle, but needed help to retake it.

This was one of the many private wars raging up and down England, after the death of Henry III the previous November. A few years earlier, Derby had been disinherited by the late king and his sons, and all his vast estates re-granted to Edmund (Henry's second son).

Perhaps unwisely, Derby was then released from custody. He was now a bandit chief, roving about the country with his remaining followers, doing as much damage as possible.

The new king, Edward I, had gone to crush a revolt in Gascony instead of returning to England for his coronation. In his absence, the great lords turned on each other. While the pard is away and all that.

Two days after Edmund's plea, Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, sent a letter to the council. Clare bemoaned the state of England, and warned there could be no peace until the nobles stopped fighting each other.

The red dog, as Clare was called, knew all about that. In May he reached a private agreement with Derby, in which they agreed to support each other against their enemies. This secret deal was witnessed by the Earl of Surrey, John Fitz John and James Audley, a powerful Marcher baron.

Derby had assembled quite the list of allies. Clare and Surrey were two of the wealthiest earls in England, while Fitz John and Audley were powerful and aggressive barons: Fitz John had once earned notoriety by murdering Rabbi Abraham, a rich Jew, on the steps of a synagogue in London.

Meanwhile Edmund recruited the Earl of Lincoln and Reynold Grey, justice of Chester and High Sheriff of Nottingham. Thus, two factions of nobles geared up to attack each other. Another civil war loomed, the third in just over a decade.

Edmund made the first move. Without waiting for a response from Westminster, he and his allies stormed Chartley and butchered the garrison. Derby narrowly escaped the slaughter, while his friends stood by and did nothing. Suddenly the red dog looked rather toothless.

The shoemaker of Rudau

#OTD in 1370 (or the following day) yet another battle was fought between the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and some Western military order types. On this occasion the battle was fought at Rudau, north of Königsberg, and the military types were the Teutonic Knights.

Not much is known of the battle, except the Knights won and probably exaggerated the scale of the victory. Both sides suffered heavy casualties, though the Lithuanians had to retreat to a hastily built barricade inside a forest. Despite the loss, they were still capable of military action in the following years.

The battle inspired a local legend that an apprentice shoemaker, Hans von Sagan, picked up the Teutonic banner after the standard-bearer had been killed. He then rallied the Knights and led them to victory. When asked what he would like for a reward, Hans requested that the burghers of Kneiphof receive annual beer from Königsberg Castle. This beer, traditionally granted on Ascension Day, became popularly known through Königsberg as 'Schmeckbier'.

According to Wiki, Hans probably didn't exist, but was based on the real-life Duke Balthasar of Żagań. He was a Polish nobleman who served in the Teutonic Knights and was eventually starved to death by his brother. Which is nice.

Bruce and 'le droite'

On 16 February 1302 Edward I issued a pardon to Robert de Bruce. Coincidentally or not, this was the expiry date for the arrival of French agents in Scotland. Via his own treaty, Philip the Fair was supposed to send his officers to take custody of lands in Scotland conquered by Edward the previous autumn.

In the event, not a single Frenchman set foot on Scottish soil. Edward, who had carried on stocking his garrisons in Scotland, was left free to secure his gains. These consisted of lands and castles in SW Scotland.

As for Bruce, he had freely entered into a pact with Longshanks, just like his father and grandfather before him. The terms of this agreement centred upon Edward's promise to help Bruce pursue his 'right', if and when John Balliol returned to Scotland.

The precise meaning of the 'right' (le droit) is uncertain. It was obviously a cause of anxiety to Bruce, and he and Edward discussed the matter with remarkable frankness. If anything occured to threaten Bruce's right - whatever it was - the king swore to uphold the Bruce cause.

The 'right' probably did not refer to Bruce's claim to the throne. Edward had long since abandoned his experiment with puppet kings in Scotland, and was unlikely to reverse his policy for Bruce's sake alone. Instead the right almost certainly referred to his claim to the earldom of Carrick, and expectant right to his father's estates in Scotland and England.

Attached is a pic of some guy dressed as Bruce. I'm running out of relevant Brucey pics, so might have to dress up myself soon. Look out for that.

Scotland's Medieval Queens

Scotland’s Inspiring Medieval Queens

By Sharon Bennett Connolly

The inspiration for Scotland’s Medieval Queens came primarily from a conversation with my son after his GCSE English Lit class a few years ago. He was studying The Tragedy of Macbeth and was quite perturbed with the way Shakespeare had portrayed Lady Macbeth. In no uncertain terms, I was told, ‘Mum, you need to set the record straight!’

So, I got to thinking….

I didn’t need much persuading. I have loved Scottish History ever since reading Nigel Tranter’s The Bruce Trilogy many years ago. And, of course, there was The Outlaw King, in which the roles of the women in Robert the Bruce’s life had their roles downplayed or ignored. 

All this, and my son and Lady Macbeth gave me the kernel of an idea.

There is not enough information about Gruoch to write an entire book about her, but what if I start with her and develop the idea to include all of Scotland’s medieval queens? If you have read my blog, or Heroines of the Medieval World, you will know of my interest in Scottish history and, in particular, St Margaret, the women of the Bruce family and Joan Beaufort, Queen of Scots as the wife of James I. I already had the beginnings of the book.

Scottish history is fascinating! It is violent, politically charged and passionate. Being inconveniently situated on England’s northern border was never easy for Scotland, but it has made for some great stories over the centuries. Scotland’s story is often that of brother against brother, ambition and family rivalries causing feuds that threatened the stability of the crown itself. Such fissures, of course, grew and ruptured with the aid of English interference and encouragement. The King of England was always happy to play one side off against the other if it weakened Scotland’s position. 

And Scotland’s medieval queens, be they Scottish, English, Danish or French, formed a big part of that story.

More often than not, these disputes north and south of the border were resolved in peace treaties, sealed by wedding bells. A number of English princesses and noblewomen found themselves married to Scotland’s kings as a consequence. 

The longest period of peace between the two countries was in the thirteenth century, when Henry III’s daughter, Margaret, married Alexander III, King of Scots. It is probably unsurprising, given the history between the two countries, that the long peace was shattered by the death of  Margaret and Alexander’s granddaughter, little Margaret, the Maid of Norway, which gave Edward I of England the opportunity to direct Scotland’s affairs. Margaret’s death left the Scots throne vacant, with thirteen Competitors vying for the crown, staking their claims as Edward acted as adjudicator.

Suffice it to say, Scotland’s turbulent history is often linked with that of England.

Scotland’s Medieval Queens aims to put the women at the forefront of Scotland’s story, to highlight their role and influence on Scottish history and on Scotland’s kings, culture and landscape. These women, however, did not act wholly independently, so while this book brings their actions into the limelight, it will be always within the context of the wider story of Scotland, from the eleventh to the fifteenth century.

Authors often say their book was ‘a labour of love’ but I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of writing Scotland’s Medieval Queens. They were strong, intelligent women who faced their challenges head on. They didn’t always make the right decisions – but who does? But they fought – for their families and their country. Each and every one of Scotland’s Queens was an inspiration and I feel honoured to have had the opportunity to tell their stories.

Author bio:

Sharon Bennett Connolly is the best-selling author of several non-fiction history books. Her latest, Scotland’s Medieval Queens, will be released in January 2025. A Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Sharon has studied history academically and just for fun – and has even worked as a tour guide at Conisbrough Castle. She also writes the popular history blog, www.historytheinterestingbits.com and co-hosts the podcast A Slice of Medieval, alongside historical novelist Derek Birks. Sharon regularly gives talks on women's history, for historical groups, festivals and in schools; her book Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest is a recommended text for teaching the Norman Conquest in the National Curriculum. She is a feature writer for All About History and Living Medieval magazines and her TV work includes Australian Television's 'Who Do You Think You Are?'

Buy link: mybook.to/ScottishQueens

Social media links: 

Website: https://historytheinterestingbits.com/

Podcast: https://soundcloud.com/user-142525904

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Thehistorybits

X/Twitter: @Thehistorybits

Instagram/Threads: sharonbennettconnolly

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Linked In: Sharon Bennett Connolly

Getting ahead (2)

 

On 14 February 1283 Edward I was at Rhuddlan. The war in Wales was still raging, but the king and his advisers made time for other business.

On this day they dealt with six cases. Edward took a personal interest in the case of Madog de Brompton, a Welshman accused of murdering one Roger Dodesune. The king was shown the verdict of a jury in Shropshire, which found that Madog had killed Roger in self-defence. Edward, 'moved by piety', agreed with the verdict and ordered Madog to be pardoned and restored to his lands, goods and chattels.

It would be nice to know more about this Madog. Brompton (Brontyn in Welsh) is a hamlet in Shropshire, right on the border: it lies between Church Stoke and Newtown, both in Powys.

Perhaps Madog was related to one of the local mixed-'race' families. 

The Antiquities of Shropshire record that Great Weston/Weston Madoc was held by Robert fitz Madoc in 1224, as a tenant of Thomas Corbet of Caus. After his death Henry III seized the manor, even though Robert had left an heir, Owain. By 1242 the manor was held by one Hywel de Brompton as a serjeant of the king, but after his death it was seized by John Lestrange. Thomas Corbet then managed to reclaim it at law.

The Chirbury Hundred-Roll records that Hywel de Brompton's heir was later in the custody of Lord Edward (later Edward I) and held his land of the prince worth 100 shillings. This was Roger Fitz Hywel, who held the land of Weston. Unfortunately the editor of the Antiquities could find no further trace of Roger Fitz Hywel or the Brompton line.

Getting ahead (1)

#OTD in 1283 a string of cases were heard before the king and council at Rhuddlan in Wales. Edward I was still embroiled with the war against Prince Dafydd, but - much like his ancestor, Henry II - he was in the habit of doing umpteen things at once. I have wondered how many of their scribes had nervous breakdowns, being dragged along in the wake of these frenzied Angevins and their endless to-do lists. 

We don't know the order in which the cases were heard, so I'll make it up. First, a certain Sir Thomas Mandeville came before the king and presented him with the head of an Irishman named 'O'Donald'. He was in fact Domnhall O Donnell, King of Tír Connaill. 

This was related to a very long-running war in Ireland, in which the Mandeville and Fitz Warin factions had fought like rats for control of territory. The various Irish kings and lords had been drawn into it, and in 1281 Mandeville and his Irish ally, Hugh 'Boy' O'Neill, wiped out their enemies at Disert-dá-chrích (Desertcreaght, County Tyrone). 

Although Edward never went to Ireland, he kept his finger on the pulse. He ordered Mandeville to be paid a fee for the head of O'Donnell, while Hugh and 'other Irishmen of Ulster' received bounties amounting to £18. Another payment went out to a certain O'Hanlon and his men-at-arms, along with a robe of the king's gift to him. 

The reference to 'men-at-arms' is interesting; in an English context, it usually referred to heavy armoured cavalry, and implies the O'Hanlon had mailed horsemen as well as kern and gallowglass. 

The gift of a robe is not just a mere detail. O'Hanlon was now currying the favour of the king, and dealt direct with him and his ministers. By doing so he bypassed the Red Earl, Richard de Burgh, who saw himself as the greatest power in Ireland. 

So much for the first order of business. Mandeville and his grisly trophy were dismissed, and Edward turned to the next item. 

Brutal power plays

Lothar or Lothair III, Holy Roman Emperor (reigned 1133-1137)

1136. While John II Komnenos pushed east, his allies in the west went into action against the Normans of Sicily. The army of Pisa sacked Amalfi, and from late 1136 the German emperor, Lothar III, led an expedition into southern Italy. There he lifted the siege of Naples and conquered much of Apulia, including Bari. 

Lothar probably had assistance from John, who seems to have sent troops as well as money. However, Lothar's luck then turned. He argued with the Pope over Apulia, his soldiers mutinied, and he was forced to retreat despite impaling over 500 men in a desperate bid to restore discipline. Lothar died in the Alps on 4 December, depriving the Roman emperor of a powerful ally. In the aftermath the Normans were able to rally and retake their lands in southern Italy. 

None of this had any direct impact on John's campaign in distant Anatolia. While on the march east, he also made contact with Fatimid Egypt, perhaps to discuss trade or a more permanent alliance. This may imply that John intended his reconquest of eastern Anatolia to be permanent, with Egypt as a constant neighbour. To that end it made sense to establish friendly relations with the Fatimid Calpih.

John's enemy in the east was Leon I, ruler of Armenian Cilicia. In recent years Leon had waged war against the Frankish princes of the Holy Land, and defeated Raymond, Prince of Antioch. He then divided his forces, sending an army to attack the Roman stronghold of Seleukia, while Leon himself attended a meeting with Baldwin of Marash, a noble of the county of Edessa.

Unhappily for Leon, he had walked straight into a trap. He was treacherously seized and imprisoned in Antioch, after which his three sons fell to arguing. The eldest, Constantine, was blinded by his brothers, who were then also captured. 

These brutal power plays were all to John's advantage. The internal collapse of Cilicia made it vulnerable to conquest, and this was his chance to reclaim it for the Empire. He had every intention of seizing that opportunity. 

Of all tribes and tongues (2)

The Roman ruins at Seleukia, modern-day Turkey

In early 1136, after months of preparation, Emperor John II Komnenos marched east from Constantinople. His objective was Pamphylia, where the Roman coastal fortress of Seleukia was under siege. 

Pamphylia, along the southern coast of Anatolia (Asia Minor) had once been part of the Roman Empire. Along with the rest of the eastern provinces, it had been thrown into chaos after the disastrous battle of Manzikert in 1071. Now it was largely hostile territory, which meant John had to fight his way through to the isolated imperial outpost at Seleukia. 

The fortress was besieged by Leon I, the ambitious ruler of Armenian Cilicia, who sought to expand his power from the mountains to the coast. He launched his attack on Roman territory early in the year, gambling that John would be too distracted by problems in the west to mount an effective response. 

Unfortunately for Leon, he had miscalculated. John's victories in previous years had secured much of western Anatolia, including the great stronghold of Kastamon and Gangra. Meanwhile the various Turkish rulers, who might have distracted the emperor, were at each other's throats instead. 

Thus, John was free to move all his forces against Leon. By the winter of 1136 he had reached the southern coast at Attaleia, where he awaited the arrival of the imperial fleet with his baggage and military equipment. Mindful of his western allies, John also found the time to send an embassy to the Holy Roman Emperor, Lothar III. The emperor's envoys arrived at the German court in 1137, bringing gifts. 

John's embassy was concerned with the Normans of Sicily, and their ambition to conquer Roman territory in Africa; specifically, modern-day Tunisia with some of eastern Algeria and western Libya. Under Roger, the so-called 'tyrant' of Sicily, the Normans were also waging war against John's new allies, the rulers of Venice and Pisa

Lothar responded favourably to the Roman embassy, as did the Venetians and Pisans. From late 1136 they launched multiple campaigns against the Normans; we shall look at these next, as well as John's eastern offensive. 

Of all tribes and tongues (1)

Emperor John II from the mosaic at Hagia Sophia

In 1136 John II Komnenos embarked upon the most ambitious military expedition of his reign. After seizing power in 1118, he had spent much of his reign at war, reconquering western Anatolia from the Seljuk Turks as well as fighting the Hungarians and Venetians in the West. Finally, after almost twenty years of struggle, he was in a position to try and recover former Roman provinces in Cilicia and Syria. 

His opportunity came thanks to two major developments. In 1135 he received an offer of marriage by ambassadors from Antioch, now ruled by the Franks. At the same time the province of Pamphylia was invaded by Leon I, lord of Armenian Cilicia. These things combined gave John every reason to mount a campaign in the east.

The envoys from Antioch probably arrived at Constantinople in late 1135, after John had returned to the capital from Paphlagonia. They proposed a marriage between Constance, heiress to the principality of Antioch, to John's youngest son Manuel. As part of the agreement, Antioch would once again be part of the Roman Empire. From the emperor's perspective, it offered the chance of a bloodless reconquest.

John seems to have started preparations for a major campaign before the year was out. According to William of Tyre, he set about gathering a large army of diverse peoples and supplies. Quote:

"From every part of his empire he had summoned people of all tribes and tongues, and now, with a countless number of cavalry and a vast array of chariots and four-wheeled carts, he was on the march..."

At the same time John engaged in intense diplomatic manoeuvres with the Latin west and Fatimid Egypt. These western initiatives focused on aligning him with the Italian maritime republics, the Papacy and the Geman Emperor against the rising power of the Normans of southern Italy. While these new allies guarded his western flank, John would be free to march east.

Events took a fresh twist in early 1136, when news arrived of Leon I's invasion of Pamphylia. After expanding his power beyond the mountains of his homeland, Leon had laid siege to the strategic Roman fortress at Seleukeia, guarding the coastal road leading out of Cilicia.

Thus, John marshalled his army 'of all tribes and tongues' and set out for the distant east. 

Lively and open war

 

In February 1298, after extending the truce with France, Edward I paid a visit to Brabant. He went to see his daughter, married to Duke Jan II of Brabant, and to do a bit of business.

The duke was notably pro-English in his outlook. During the king's visit, Jan granted the port of Antwerp and the adjoining towns of Liere, Herentals and Liere to his father-in-law.

This was a hefty slice of Brabant, including the chief port, and probably a temporary lease called 'achterleen'; a form of subinfeudation, whereby a grant was made in exchange for money and military support. Technically the margraviate of Antwerp was held of the Holy Roman Empire, but there was nothing to stop Duke Jan from making out a temporary sub-grant.

In the same month, Edward moved to Aardenburg near the border of Zeeland. Here the king renewed his military contract with the barons of Franche-Comté in Burgundy (see pic, original document held at the National Archives). In exchange for another 30,000 livres tournois, the barons were to continue to make 'lively and open' war against the French.

The Battle of Stirling Bridge had occurred in September 1297, but Edward showed no particular haste to go home and deal with the crisis in Scotland. Instead he delegated the task to Earl Warenne and the council in London. Writs for the Scottish expedition were issued in October 1297, for a muster at Newcastle on 6 December. The bulk of this northern army was composed of Welsh infantry; 5157 Welshmen were in pay from 8 December 1297-29 January 1298.

The context of killing

The murder of John Comyn of Badenoch, and his uncle Robert, in the church at Dumfries on 10 February 1306 was one of the most shocking acts of the period. Less clear is the motive. 

If we take a look at the wider context of the killing, especially the immediate aftermath, the fog starts to clear. Once Bruce and his men had finished off Comyn, they rode to Dumfries castle and seized it from the sheriff, Sir Richard Siward. They were joined by Sir Roger Kirkpatrick who, somewhat ironically, had been holding court nearby as one of Edward I's justiciars of Galloway. His fellow justice, Sir Walter Burghdon, was then taken prisoner along with the other English officials in the region. 

The intrepid band then rode to Siward's castle of Tibbers, seventeen miles north-west of Dumfries, and seized it along with Comyn's castle at Dalswinton. The royal castle at Ayr soon followed, as well as James the Steward's castle at Inverkip and Rothesay castle on the Island of Bute. Later evidence strongly suggests that the royal castle of Dunaverty on Kintyre and Bruce's castle of Loch Doon in Carrick were provisioned at about the time as the murders at Dumfries. 

In short, Bruce had taken a string of strategically important castles that enabled him to control the sea-routes in and out of western Scotland. His actions, and those of his supporters, were efficient and co-ordinated, implying their strategy had been carefully worked out beforehand.  

This was emphatically not the behaviour of a man who had murdered Comyn in a fit of rage or panic, on the spur of the moment. Rather, Comyn and his uncle had been carefully targeted, as part of Bruce's long-planned seizure of power. Now he had to wait for the reaction of Edward I, slowly expiring in distant Westminster. But that's another tale... 

Sources: 

Traitor, Outlaw, King Part One: The Making of Robert Bruce by Fiona Watson 

Edward I by Michael Prestwich 

Disunited Kingdoms: People and Politics in the British Isles 1280-1460 by Michael Brown

Treachery and battle and strife

Turning to Wales, 10 February also marks the death of Madog ap Maredudd in 1160, last ruler of a united Powys.

Madog died at Whittingdon castle in Shropshire, where he and his eldest son Llywelyn had gone to meet Henry II's officers. This meeting was held to discuss the latest threat of invasion from Owain Gwynedd, ruler of Gwynedd (the kingdom adjacent to Powys) and self-styled Prince of Wales.

The details of the meeting are reported by the poet Gwalchmai. According to him, Llywelyn was granted a stretch of territory between Rug and Buddugre to patrol against Owain. This was part of Henry's defence policy, whereby he paid the local rulers of Powys to garrison a chain of border forts against incursions from Gwynedd. That also suited the Powysians, since they took the king's money and men to help guard their own frontier.

Very soon after his father's death, Llywelyn was killed in unclear circumstances. A clue to his demise comes from Gwlachmai, referring to events in early 1160:

"Gwelais frad a chad a chamawn,
Cyfrwng llew a llyw Merfyniawn".

(I saw treachery and battle and strife,
between a lion and the leader of the descendents of Merfyn [the dynasty of Gwynedd])

Gwalchmai seems to imply, without saying outright, that Llywelyn was murdered by the forces of Owain Gwynedd. This is not unlikely, since Owain certainly launched an invasion of Powys at this time. Alternatively, Llywelyn may have fallen victim to an internal feud in Powys.

Whatever the case, Owain took full advantage. Shortly afterwards Owain led an invasion of Edeirnion, deep inside Powysian territory; the poet Cynddelw lamented that if the king and his son were still alive, the forces of Gwynedd would never have penetrated so far:

"While Madog lived there was no man
Dared ravage his fair borders
Yet nought of all he held
Esteemed he his save by God's might ...
If my noble lord were alive
Gwynedd would not now be encamped in the heart of Edeyrnion."

Much of the above is taken from David Stephenson's brilliant book on medieval Powys. Anyone who really cares a damn about the history of Wales in this era - as opposed to noisy chest-banging - MUST get hold of a copy. That's an order. 

 

A murder at Dumfries...

 

#OTD in 1306 John Comyn of Badenoch and his uncle Robert were murdered by Robert de Bruce and his followers in Dumfries church.

Comyn was at his castle of Dalswinton, seven miles north of Dumfries, when he received an invite from Bruce to meet him in the church. What they discussed is uncertain. After a brief talk, Bruce kicked out at Comyn, and ran him through with a sword or dagger. Robert was killed by Sir Christopher Seton.

A later account claimed that Comyn was killed in revenge for betraying Bruce to Edward I. That is Bruce propaganda, invented after the fact to justify a political murder. The killing was in the same vein as the murder of Henry of Almaine, murdered at a church in Italy in 1271, or the followers of John IV Laskaris, slaughtered in a church in Nicaea in 1258.

The reality is that Bruce wanted to be King of Scots, and the Comyn faction were his chief rivals. Both men had sworn homage to Edward as overlord of Scotland, but the king was old and ill, and clearly wouldn't live much longer.

Even after the killing, Bruce did not immediately rise against Edward. Instead he sent a letter to the English at Berwick, warning that he would defend himself with 'the longest stick that he had' unless Edward agreed to his demand. That demand can only have been the kingship.

Bruce was most likely seeking to fulfil the ambition of his grandfather, Bruce the Competitor, who had offered to help Edward conquer Scotland in exchange for the crown. If that meant swearing homage to the old king - in the unlikely event that he would swallow Comyn's murder - so be it. When Edward died, the Bruce Scots would have to re-swear their oaths to his heir, Edward II. That was a different situation altogether.

In the event, Edward I's reaction was ferocious, and the war was back on again.

Last Emperor of the Romans

 

Lest I forget, today is also the birthday of Constantine XI Palaiologos, the last Roman Emperor, killed defending Constantinople in 1453.

Constantine was proclaimed Emperor of the Romans in a small ceremony at Mystras on 6 January 1449. I am no expert on the man, but he seems to have been loyal and capable, and might have made a successful emperor in a less hopeless time. As it was, he inherited a bankrupt 'empire' that consisted of Constantinople and a few outlier territories. Even the Great City was a shadow of its former glory, much of it depopulated and lying in ruins.

Criticising a figure like Constantine, still regarded as a hero in Greece, is to risk making oneself seriously unpopular. However, it is not the business of historians to deal in hero-worship. For all his positive qualities, Constantine has been accused of a major blunder in trying to play off the Ottoman rulers against each other. This policy triggered a furious rant from Çandarlı Halil Pasha, the Ottoman grand vizier. Quote:

"You stupid Greeks, I have had enough of your devious ways. The late sultan was a lenient and conscientious friend to you. The present sultan is not of the same mind. If Constantine eludes his bold and impetuous grasp, it will only be because God continues to overlook your cunning and wicked schemes. You are fools to think you can frighten us with your fantasies, and that when the ink on our recent treaty is barely dry. We are not children without strength or reason. If you think you can start something, then do so. If you want to proclaim Orhan as Sultan in Thrace, go ahead. If you want to bring the Hungarians across the Danube, let them come. If you want to recover the places which you lost long since, try it. But know this: you will make no headway in any of these things. All that you will achieve is to lose what little you still have."

Ouch. Constantine and his advisers seem to have had little idea of how to deal with the Ottomans, wavering between appeasement and defiance. In fairness, they were in a dire situation, and it was only a matter of time before the city was attacked. Without substantial aid from the West, Constantinople stood no chance.

There are many accounts of Constantine's death, but he almost certainly went down fighting. One of his last recorded quotes was:

"God forbid that I should live as an Emperor without an Empire. As my city falls, I will fall with it. Whosoever wishes to escape, let him save himself if he can, and whoever is ready to face death, let him follow me."

Special guest post by Sarah Tanburn

 THE STORIES WE TELL ABOUT OURSELVES: fables for a future Wales

By Sarah Tanburn 

‘We are the people and Cymru is our fortress.’

Children of the Land, my Welsh fantasy novella collection, closes with this line. The five tales are all set in the same not-far-off future Wales but with different characters. Along with monsters of land and sea and some battle-ready heroines, you will find climate change, geopolitics and world trade, and the independence of a small and ancient nation in the mix.

Why should a history blog, albeit with its wonderful focus on Wales, be interested in a bit of futuristic speculation? There is of course the Churchillian shibboleth that ‘those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it.’ As I write, in February 2025, there is much to consider in that statement. Nonetheless, it was not my starting point.

In Wales, as artists, writers and activists, we tend to look backwards. History here is written in stone and blood. Castles bestride the landscape, instilling shock and awe across the centuries. Industrial detritus scatters the hills, from ancient slate quarries to a pit 200m deep outside Merthyr Tydfil where Ffos-y-fran mine finally stopped digging less than 18 months ago. The glorious, mythologised past haunts us too. The Mabinogion stories are reworked again and again, while Owain Glyndŵr and his successors are the heroes of many a novel – though we are yet to get a genuine biopic rooted in Wales. 

‘Ahead of her, light’

The Fortress is the fifth of the tales in the book. Its heroine, Mwyn, is abandoned in the tunnels below the Clwyd Mountains. She finds a cavern, and within it, minerals which will change everything.

In Children of the Land, I explore a future Wales. How, I wondered, do we take all that weight and imagine our children’s lives? I didn’t want to think about policy, nor am I a Welsh nationalist; at most I am indy-curious. I asked myself what might have become of those monsters of legend. The murderous hawks of Arthur’s Court or the afancs said to haunt several lakes. If the land itself took a part, what kind of country might we become?

The result is five novellas set in very specific places. In the 2020 lockdown, writing Bones and Fire, I sent a friend to stand in the field where Dai burns her corpses and check you cannot see Worm’s Head. Twyn Dysgwylfa, the place of seeing, where Adain releases the hawks of dust and wine, is just north of Trallong. Old Nine Eyes basks in the sun in Sôr Brook, which winds through the hills west of Carleon. 

Yet this imagined Cymru is isolationist and corrupt. The Aberystwyth government is happy to support almost any venture which will bring in hard currency but censors electronic correspondence. My heroines do business in ways which reveal the changing world: Korea is united but America has become simply geography. Desperate people in Senegal will pay handsomely for turtle meat harvested in the Menai Strait, and China owns power generated in English rivers.

The people of Cymru, like most of us, are content with life if left alone. The rich, the determined and the fluid, as they always have, will find a way to travel but in general people are content to stay where they are: it is a dangerous world out there. Children of the Land does not portray any idealised Celtic romance but neither is it straightforward dystopia.

‘I ignored her history as another contraction rippled through me’ 

Enfys, the narrator of The Flow, cannot afford to listen to an unqualified assistant as labour begins. We tend to ignore history in the making of anything new, yet value true experience as the crisis hits. 

These novellas, which I subtitled Fables for a Future Wales, aims to learn from the stories we tell about ourselves. Some of those are fantasies, possibly rooted in our natural world, our farming or mining past, but filled with magic and blood. Others, still gory, of course are part of the documented record. Any future is messy and compromised, but let it be both informed and imagined, brought into being with true intention together with our dreams.  

Children of the Land is available from all good bookshops or online. At this time, it is only published in print, and not electronically.