Men of his own tongue

On 25 April 1283 the defenders of Castell y Bere in the heart of North Wales surrendered to the armies of Edward I. In exchange for handing over the castle, they received about two-thirds of a promised bribe of £80 in silver: the shortfall might have rankled, but they were probably just relieved to get away with life and limb.

Castell y Bere

The fall of Bere was an important step in the Edwardian conquest of Wales. Seen from other perspectives, it was one of the final acts in a very long-running drama. Among the royal commanders were Rhys ap Maredudd, lord of Ystrad Tywi in south Wales, and several of the sons of Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, lord of southern Powys. These men chose to fight for the King of England against the Prince of Wales because the latter, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, was their hereditary enemy.

The conflict between the lords of southern Powys (Powys Gwenwynwyn) and Prince Llywelyn's family went back over two hundred years. Their ancestor, Bleddyn ap Cynfyn, had once ruled Gwynedd and Powys in the mid-eleventh century, including the site of Castell y Bere inside Meirionydd. Bleddyn lost Gwynedd to the ancestors of Llywelyn, and a feud had rumbled on ever since. At times the lords of Powys joined with their ancestral foes against the English, but they were uneasy allies. Gruffudd had been Llywelyn's ally for a time, only to conspire with his brother Dafydd to murder the prince in his bed.

That plot had failed, but in December 1282 Llywelyn fell victim to another. The Chronicle of Peterborough Abbey claims that Gruffudd and his sons were present at the death, and it is difficult to believe they were not complicit in luring Llywelyn to his doom. After his death, the crown of Wales passed to his treacherous brother Dafydd, who continued to resist Edward's invasion. This meant that the former conspirators, Gruffudd and Dafydd, were now on opposite sides.

It seems Edward was well aware of the feuds between rival dynasties in Wales, and the value of symbolism. When Bere fell, the castle was handed over to one of Gruffudd's sons – ironically named Llywelyn – and a force of Powysian soldiers. The lions of Gwynedd were torn down from the battlements and replaced with the red lion rampant of Powys Gwenwynwyn:

The symbolic significance, and the irony, of his custody of the castle built by his grandfather's great enemy, Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, in the heart of the land that had long ago been held by members of his dynasty, cannot have been lost on Llywelyn or his father. The revenge of the house of Bleddyn ap Cynfyn was complete. (David Stephenson)

In the spring and summer months of 1283 the war devolved into a man-hunt. After the loss of his castles, Dafydd and his remaining followers scattered and went on the run. The payroll for this campaign shows the men of Powys were heavily involved in hunting down the fugitive prince. For instance:

Item, payment to William de Felton and David ap Griffin ap Wenonwin, with 2 covered horses, for themselves and 140 foot-soldiers returning with them to Cymer from the parts of Powys, seeking David ap Griffin, for Saturday 22 May, for 1 day, 26s 6d.

And:

Item, to the same William and David ap Griff’ ap Wenonwin, with 2 covered horses, for themselves and 200 foot-soldiers going towards the parts of Powys, for Tuesday 18 May, the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday following, for 4 days, each day counted, £7 8s, to pursue David ap Griffin.

These payments indicate Dafydd was thought to be hiding somewhere in Powys, perhaps on the lands of one of his late brother's followers, Llywelyn Fychan of Bromfield. He was eventually caught on 22 June on the Bera mountain in Gwynedd, by 'men of his own tongue'; possibly men of Gwynedd, or perhaps of Powys and Ystrad Tywi.

The killing of Prince Llywelyn

In the final days of the war, on 28 June, Gruffudd and his Marcher ally Edmund Mortimer were ordered to clear all the passes under their control of trees. This was because one of Dafydd's sons, Llywelyn, was lurking with 'certain thieves' inside the woods; the last dregs of resistance. Gruffudd and Edmund's men soon flushed them out and delivered Llywelyn into royal custody. His fate was to spend the rest of his days as a prisoner at Bristol Castle with his younger brother, Owain.

A few years later Gruffudd died in his bed at Welshpool, aged about 65. He had been entirely successful:

It was thus, with the territorial extent of his lordship largely restored and in one region extended significantly beyond the territories that he had entered in 1242, with his principal rivals eliminated and his erstwhile persecutor, Prince Llywelyn, dead and his house all but destroyed, that Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn died in 1286. (David Stephenson)

Two kings, two masters

In 1276 Girard VI, Count of Armagnac in southern Gascony, was summoned to arms by Philip le Hardi (the Bold), King of France. Along with other Gascon nobles, Armagnac was sent into the kingdom of Navarre, south of the Pyrenees, to lay siege to the city of Pamplona. The situation was très compliqué. Henri III, the last king of Navarre, had died in 1274 without a male heir, so all the other kingdoms south of the Pyrenees scrambled to grab the vacant throne.

The arms of Armagnac (pre-1304)

The barons of Navarre appealed to Philip for help, and he sent a French army under Eustace de Beaumarchais to defend Pamplona. Unfortunately the French made themselves unpopular, and in 1276 violence exploded in the city between pro and anti-French factions. This was why Armagnac and his comrades were dispatched to deal with the situation. They laid siege to Pamplona, only for the Navarrese barons to escape at night. This was allegedly due to treachery on the past of Gaston de Béarn, a Gascon nobleman who had previously fought against Henry III and Edward I of England. Gaston was a kinsman to Don Almovarist, one of the barons of Navarre, and so conspired to help the rebels get away. Shortly afterwards Pamplona fell to the French and was sacked with terrible brutality.

An aerial view of Pamplona

Six years later, Armagnac was summoned to arms again. This time he was part of the Gascony expeditionary force to North Wales, raised by Edward I to spearhead the invasion of Gwynedd. Armagnac and the other lords of the South were ‘Montagnards’, warlike mountain people, and Snowdonia held no terrors for them:

“They [the Gascons] remain with the king, receive his gifts,
In moors and mountains they clamber like lions.
They go with the English, burn down the houses,
Throw down the castles, slay the wretches;
They have passed the Marches, and entered into Snowdon”.

Armagnac’s service in Navarre and Wales was a consequence of the Treaty of Paris in 1259. This made the Gascon nobility subject to two masters: the king of England as their immediate lord, and the king of France as overlord. This arrangement enabled both kings to exploit the military resources of Gascony, and meant the likes of Armagnac was a soldier of England and France. His son, Bernard, fought for Philip le Bel in Flanders.

The King's Welshmen

I've recently revived my Youtube channel, History Stuff, in which I talk about any historical subject that takes my fancy. Below you can view a two-part series of videos on the subject of Edward I of England (reigned 1272-1307) and his exploitation of the military resources of Wales after 1282.

The King's Welshmen (Part 1)

The King's Welshmen (Part 2)

Goronwy's end

Goronwy ap Heilyn is last seen at Llanberis, at the foot of Snowdon, on 2 May 1283. He was among the last cohort of supporters of Dafydd ap Gruffudd, who had assumed the title Prince of Wales after the death of his brother, Llywelyn, the previous December.

Sunset over Llanberis

Dafydd had wanted the crown all his life. Now it was finally in his grasp, in circumstances that resemble the last act of Macbeth. He had no soldiers left, no castles after the fall of Castell y Bere in April, and was reduced to hiding in the mountains issuing pointless charters to men who had already deserted him.

His final acts as prince occured on 2 May. On that day Gruffudd ap Maredudd, one of Dafydd’s remaining supporters, agreed to grant Cantref Penwedding to Rhys Fychan of Ceredigion. At the same time Dafydd empowered one of his officers, John son of David, to call out the men of Builth, Brecon, Maelienydd, Elfael, Gwerthyrnion and Kerry. The intention was to summon one last army and stage a final stand against the troops of Edward I as they poured into the mountain citadel.

Unknown to Dafydd, Rhys Fychan had surrendered to the king at Rhuddlan at the start of March. In exchange for his life, Rhys agreed to do military service at Aberystwyth for forty days for a fee of £16:

“Payment to Res ap Mailgun, admitted to the lord king’s wages, by order of lord W. de Valence, the lord bishop of St David’s and lord Robert Tybbetot, to guard the land of ‘Lanpader’ with 2 covered horses and 4 uncovered horses and 24 foot-soldiers, from 11 March until Monday 19 April, for 40 days, £16.”

Nobody answered Dafydd’s military summons, since the men of Maelienydd and elsewhere had already submitted to the king.

Goronwy was one of those who witnessed these two futile charters. He was killed shortly afterwards, probably in a skirmish during the final days of the invasion. All we know of his death is a brief note in the survey of the Honour of Denbigh, drawn up in 1334. This records that Goronwy ap Heilyn Sais had died ‘contra pacem’ - against the peace. The lands of his son, Madog, escheated to the crown, while another son, Llywelyn, was still in prison in 1316.

Seeking justice

A foot in both camps (6)

In November 1282, at Rhuddlan, the grievances of Welsh individuals and communities were laid before the king by Archbishop John Peckham. These can be found in the multi-volume printed version of his register. 

As ever, it is useful to compare and contrast. Goronwy ap Heilyn, the former bailiff of Rhos and royal justice, complained that he had gone to London three times to get justice against Reynold de Grey, and not obtained it. Part of his complaint translates as follows:

“But when he believed that he would have that justice, then came Reginald de Grey, who openly said that he was entitled to take the lands by the writ of the lord king, and then seized from the said Goronwy the whole bailiwick which the lord king granted to him, and sold it as he willed. Then the said Goronwy sought justice from the lord Reginald for these oft-stated grievances, but received none.”

The protest of the community of Rhos and Englefield gives a slightly different account of Goronwy’s behaviour:

“Since he did not dare to approach the court in person, he sent a messenger with two letters, one to the lord king, and the other to his brother Llywelin, to explain to the lord king that he might lose all his lands. And the said Goronwy, because he did not carry out what he had promised them, and since the men of Rhos and Englefield were unable to obtain any justice, and since he did not wish to correct or set right those grievances, on account of this lost all his lands.”

The ‘brother Llywelin’ mentioned here is Friar Llywelyn of Bangor, who had defected to the English after being captured at sea with Eleanor de Montfort in 1275. According to the above, Goronwy was too afraid of Grey to approach the court, so he tried to get letters to the king instead. However, the men of Rhos and Englefield then accused Goronwy of failing to deliver on his promises, and even that he ‘did not wish’ to protect them.

Thanks to Rich Price for the translations.

An utter thug

The war of Reynold de Grey (2)

Lord Reynold de Grey, who made himself so hated in North Wales, was an equal-opportunities oppressor. Apart from abusing the communities of Rhos and Englefield, he also found time to wage war on his fellow Marcher lords.

In the mid-1270s the castle of Ewloe (second pic) built by the princes of Gwynedd, passed into the hands of Robert de Monthaut. After his death the land and tenements passed to his widow, Joan. She enjoyed them for four years until Grey threw her out and seized the manor for himself. When her son Roger came of age, he tried to sue Grey in court, but died while the case was in progress. Grey held onto Ewloe until his death, and it was finally restored to the Monthauts by Queen Isabella in 1327.

Lord Grey was an utter thug, whose aim in life was to steal as much land as possible and kill anyone who tried to stop him. He actually said as much to Earl Warenne, when the two came to blows in 1287. He was also a brilliant military captain: born into a later age, he would have given Quantrill’s Raiders the fright of their lives. In 1267 Grey’s light cavalry slaughtered the March riders of Earl Gilbert de Clare outside London, and a couple of years later crushed an army of outlaws in the northern counties. His skill at guerilla warfare made him indispensable in Wales, and he was among the four big ‘batailles’ of English heavy cavalry at Falkirk. Such men were too useful to throw away.

Grey’s great-great grandson, Baron Grey of Ruthin, was the chap who triggered the revolt of Owain Glyn Dwr. The third pic is an illustration of the Grey arms, taken from The Grey Hours, a book of hours made for the family and dated c.1390.

Laws and wars

A foot in both camps (4)

On 4 December 1281, at Chester, a report was submitted to the king concerning the laws and customs of the Welsh. This was part of an ongoing survey, called the Hopton Commission, into the nature of the Welsh legal system and which laws and customs they ought to be governed by.

Goronwy ap Heilyn had been appointed as one of four Welshmen on the original seven-man commission in 1278. The personnel changed over the years, but Goronwy remained in favour and was re-appointed as a royal justice in the Marches.

The final report of the Hopton Commission takes up several pages in the Welsh Rolls. It is essentially a report of a long list of witnesses, Welsh and English, who were asked to describe their experience of native law and custom. The answers varied, sometimes depending on the attitude of the witnesses. One Welsh lord, for instance, remarked:

“Of the other articles he knows nothing, because he gives more attention to hunting than to the discussion of law.”

The responses of the cantref of Rhos in northeast Wales make for interesting reading. Goronwy was bailiff of Rhos, one of the first Welsh communities to rebel against Edward I only a few months later. This powder-keg situation is not evident in the report, in which one individual after another declared in favour of English common law over the law of Cyfraith Hywel (Hywel Dda).

Goronwy himself was key to promoting this attitude. One witness stated that the people of Rhos were well content with the new law, because their bailiff encouraged them. The ‘community of the country’ also desired common law over Cyfraith Hywel. This trend was repeated all over Wales, even among the princes: Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd himself, for instance, made use of the English law of dower on behalf of his sister, Margaret.

It was not, therefore, an issue of law that drove the North Welsh into revolt. For the real cause we must look to individuals in the royal administration of Wales. The chief culprit was Reynold de Grey, justice of Chester.

Serving two masters

A foot in both camps (1)

Goronwy ap Heilyn was the son of Heilyn Sais ap Cynfrig, a probable brother of Ednyfed Fychan, seneschal or ‘distain’ to Llywelyn the Great. The designation ‘Sais’ would indicate that Heilyn had English connections or sympathies, and was one of the growing number of the ministerial elite in Gwynedd with links to the English crown. At the same time Heilyn acted as an envoy for Llywelyn, held the office of rhaglaw (bailiff) and was important enough to appear as a witness on several princely charters.

Heilyn was in the service of the princes from the years 1222-41. His son Goronwy first appears in 1248, held as a hostage in England. Goronwy and his fellow prisoner, Rhodri ab Owain, were presumably held hostage to ensure the princes of Gwynedd held to the terms of the Treaty of Woodstock (1247). Goronwy vanishes from the record for the next 29 years, only to re-emerge in 1277 as one of the brokers of the Treaty of Aberconwy. He and his kinsman, Tudur ab Ednyfed, were granted powers by Prince Llywelyn to conclude peace with the English: along with a third party, Dafydd ab Einon, they swore “pro se et aliis de consilio” to ensure that Llywelyn surrendered hostages for his observance of the treaty.

For the last five years of his life, Goronwy would attempt to steer a middle course between the rival powers in Gwynedd and Westminster. His aim, to judge from his actions, was to try and bring about peace by serving two masters at once.

Llywelyn the Great

This involved shuttling back and forth as an envoy between Llywelyn and the king. In 1277-8, with the priors of Bangor and Rhuddlan, Goronwy made four trips to Snowdon and Anglesey on the king’s service. He also claimed expenses for journeys to negotiate with Llywelyn about his dispute with Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, and on 12 September 1278 was granted a fee of £6 a year by the king.

Elderly Welsh harpists

“The historians doubt it, but it strongly stands in the legend that Edward I of England sent 500 Welsh bards to the stake after his victory over the Welsh (1277) to prevent them from arousing the country and destroying English rule by telling of the glorious past of their nation.” -

Janos Anary, the Hungarian poet who wrote The Bards of Wales (A walesi wárdok).

In this famous poem, composed in 1857, Edward Longshanks has a gigantic hissy fit and orders all the bards in Wales to be burnt at the stake. The poem was really meant as an analogy for Hapsburg control of Hungary and the repressive policies of Alexander von Bach, but the legend of flash-fried Welsh bards still finds the occasional echo today.

If any bard of Edward’s day was lined up for the stake, that man was surely Llygad Gwr. Llygad had been the court poet of Gruffudd ap Madog, whom the king must have regarded as a traitor; Gruffudd spent decades in English service before arranging the slaughter of Edward’s soldiers at Cymerau and defecting to Prince Llywelyn. Llygad also composed praise songs for Llywelyn, reckoned the most ‘nationalist’ poetry in Wales before the days of Owain Glyn Dwr.

Even so, it seems the wicked tyrant had bigger fish to fry than an elderly Welsh harpist. Surviving tax rolls (attached) show that Llygad Gwyr - “Legeth gour”, in the clumsy spelling of an English clerk - was alive and well in the vill of Carrog in the parish of Corwen in 1291. This makes sense, since Corwen lay inside the territory of Edeirnion, once held by Llygad’s old master Gruffudd ap Madog.

The record shows that Llygad, who must have been a very old man by 1291, paid 2 shillings 8.5 pence in tax: a good example of the excruciating attention to detail of the new royal administration in Wales. As such he was the second highest taxpayer in the vill after Madog ab Gruffydd Mal. This man could possibly be identified as Madog Grupl, Glyn Dwr’s great-grandfather.

Thus it seems that King Ted preferred to charge the bards of Wales VAT rather than chase them with a packet of firelighters. Within three generations Welsh poets such as Iolo Goch were composing praise poems to Edward’s descendents. For money, of course; what goes round comes round.

Playing a double game

On 2 June 1257 an English army under the leadership of Stephen Bauzan was destroyed at Cymerau in southwest Wales. The potential role of Gruffudd ap Madog, lord of Bromfield, in achieving this victory is often ignored.

Up until very recently Gruffudd had been a crown loyalist. He appears to have despised Llywelyn the Great and his successor, Dafydd ap Llywelyn, on account of their ill-treatment of Llywelyn’s eldest son Gruffudd. After Gruffudd’s fatal plunge from the Tower or London, Gruffudd ap Madog’s attitude slowly changed.

In the early summer of 1257 Gruffudd apparently remained on active on behalf of Henry III. Along with Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, lord of southern Powys, he was ordered by the king to assist John de Grey in the defence of the marchlands. Gruffudd ap Madog took charge of the border lordship of Kinnerley from his brother-in-law James Audley. He was only able to hold it for a month before being driven out by the invasion of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd. In June, very shortly before the English defeat at Cymerau, Gruffudd was still receiving grants of English territory in the midlands as compensation for his losses.

Matthew Paris wrote that the victory of Cymerau was achieved ‘by the advice and instruction’ of Gruffudd ap Madog. Paris cannot be trusted, but had clearly heard a story of Gruffudd playing a double game. Some suggestive evidence can be found in Henry III’s correspondence. On 8 August the king made arrangements to receive Dafydd ap Gruffudd, Llywelyn’s brother, whom Henry believed was about to defect to his side. One of the witnesses on this letter is Gruffudd ap Madog. He was clearly party to this plan. Another letter to this effect was issued on 25 August.

Gruffudd’s name does not appear on this second letter. On 20 September his chaplain was ordered to tear up both letters, since Dafydd had not come to the king. Just over a week later, according to the Annals of Chester, Gruffudd defected to Prince Llywelyn.

Eight pence equals one hen

On 23 September 1245 a pitched battle took place - we might call it a mass brawl - over a stranded supply ship from Ireland on the banks of the River Conwy. The ship was loaded with provisions for sale to the army of Henry III, camped at Deganwy, but it had run aground on the Welsh side of the river.

Seeing this, the Welsh rushed down from the heights to grab the supplies as the boat lay on dry ground. Henry sent three hundred Welsh borderers, some crossbowmen and a band of knights to stop them. The Welsh retreated to the mountains and woods, pursued by the king’s men. Some of the fugitives were killed, but then the pursuers stopped to plunder the Cistercian abbey of Aberconwy.

This gave the Welsh time to rally. They ‘rushed with noisy shouts’ upon the king’s men, who were laden with goodies taken from the abbey. Now it was their turn to flee in panic; many were slaughtered in the rout or drowned in the river. Among the casualties were four knights, Alan Bucel, Adam Moia, Geoffrey Sturmy and a Gascon crossbowman named Raymond, who had evidently risen from low birth only to be struck down in North Wales. Raymond was a favourite of Henry’s, who used to make ‘great sport’ of him.

At this point the war got really nasty. Some of the English knights were taken prisoner, and soon afterwards the Welsh learned that Henry’s men had killed some Welsh captives, including a nobleman named Naveth son of Odo. In revenge they dragged their prisoners to the banks of the Conwy, tore them to pieces and threw the body parts into the river, in full sight of the English army on the other side.

The Welsh launched a second attack on the stranded boat, now defended by Walter Bisset and his men. Fighting raged on until midnight, until the sea rose and caused the ship to roll. At this the Welsh withdrew again, only to come back in the morning to find the English had abandoned ship. They promptly seized the sixty casks of wine aboard and made off with them.

Starving and desperate, King Henry’s men were reduced to a state of feral savagery. They threw themselves upon the Welsh, slaughtered and decapitated a hundred of them, and brought the reeking heads back into camp to claim the customary bounty of twopence per head. Thanks to the lack of supplies, one chicken inside the English camp now cost eightpence: thus, four Welsh lives bought one hen. Food supplies continued to dwindle, and men and horses died in droves.

In cold and nakedness

In late August 1245 Henry III arrived at Deganwy after a slow march from Chester, hampered by Welsh guerilla attacks and a large supply train. While his engineers set about refortifying the castle, the king’s soldiers camped on the exposed heights.

On 24 September one of Henry’s nobles (which one isn’t stated) sent a letter to his friends in England. Matthew Paris happened to include a copy of the letter in his Chronica Majora, and the text supplies an extremely rare first-hand account of warfare in medieval Wales. The correspondent makes it sound like a thirteenth century version of the Eastern front in World War II. He describes the wretched state of the army, devoid of supplies and winter gear:

 “We are dwelling around it [Deganwy] in tents, employed in watchings, fastings, and prayers, and admidst cold and nakedness. In watchings, through fear of the Welsh attacking us by night; in fastings, on account of a deficiency of provisions, for a farthing loaf now costs five pence; in prayers, that we may soon return home safe and uninjured; and we are oppressed by cold and nakedness, because our houses are of canvas, and we are without winter clothing.”

Henry’s commissariat had started to break down early in the month. On 6 September he ordered that supplies were to be sent from Chester even on a Sunday, and that he would pay for them as soon as he could. On the following day he ordered John Lestrange at Chester to buy fifteen wagonloads of iron and steel and send them by the first available ships to Deganwy. Another 15,000 crossbow bolts were to be sent from St Briavels to Chester and then shipped to Deganwy. On 20 September compensation was paid out to to drivers who had lost their carts and horses in the king’s service, and six days later Henry ordered another massive supply of 30,000 crossbow bolts to be sent to Deganwy “with all possible speed, by day and by night”.

Increasing Welsh pressure meant that supplies could no longer be sent to the army by land. The king had predicted this emergency in June, when he ordered the justiciar of Ireland to prepare all the galleys he had for the king’s expedition into Wales. The Irish navigators were not up to the task: it seems just one vessel made it through, only to ground on a sandbank on the Welsh side of the River Conwy. The stranded vessel became the focal point of the only pitched battle of the war.

To control the Welsh

“It is not easy to control the Welsh except through one of their own race.” This is from a letter addressed to John Monmouth, Justiciar of South Wales, from Nichola Fitz Martin of Cemais and other Marcher lords in September 1244.

The context of the letter is the war between Henry III and Prince Dafydd ap Llywelyn. Over the summer the Marchers invaded the lands of Maredudd ab Owain in Cardiganshire, only to find there was nothing to plunder. This implies that Maredudd had stripped his lands of goods and livestock etc to induce the Marchers to parley.

The Marshal arms

They agreed to talk. Maredudd stated that he had only left the king’s fealty and joined Dafydd because of lack of ‘maintenance and aid’ i.e. the crown wasn’t sending him enough money. After some haggling, it was agreed that Maredudd would come back to the king in exchange for land originally granted to him by Henry’s ancestors; these included the lands of Maelgwn ap Maelgwn, the king’s enemy, who would be disinherited in favour of Maredudd.

Pembroke Castle

The Marchers recommended this form of peace, since it was easier to control the Welsh via a friendly Welsh prince: we could call this a divide and rule policy. They cited as an example the career of William Marshal junior, son of the famous Earl of Pembroke, who had ‘controlled the Welsh at his will’. Marshal did this by granting two manors to one Cynan ap Hywel, a Welsh noble, in order to hold down the Welsh through him. And, the letter concludes, ‘so he did’.

On the banks of the Elwy

In the autumn of 1240, after swearing homage to Henry III, Prince Dafydd returned to Gwynedd and arrested his brother Gruffydd for a second time. He did this by inviting Gruffydd to a council and then breaking the safe-conduct:

“Dafydd, simultaneously forgetful of their fraternity and their honesty, ordered him to be seized and, even though the leaders were unwilling and cried out in protest, he ordered him to be consigned to the safe keeping of jail.”

 - Matthew Paris

Rhuddlan Castle

Along with Dafydd’s contumacy over the rights to Mold castle, King Henry now had all the reasons he needed to invade North Wales. In August he advanced from Chester to Shrewsbury, accompanied by Ralph Mortimer, Gruffudd ap Madog and his brothers Hywel and Maredudd, Maredudd ap Robert of Cydewain, Walter Clifford, Roger of Mold and Maelgwn Fychan.

Henry III

At Shrewsbury, on 12 August, Henry was met by Gruffydd ap Llywelyn’s wife, Senana. Earlier, at Easter, she had gone to Henry’s court to persuade the king to secure her husband’s release from Dafydd’s prison. Now she tried again, and this time offered cash. In exchange for 600 marks (£400), she asked Henry to deliver Gruffudd and her son Owain Goch from captivity.

Henry took the money, but his agreement was carefully worded. He offered to deliver Gruffydd and Owain from prison on condition that Gruffudd would ‘abide by the judgement of the king’s court, whether lawfully he ought to be detained in prison’. Unless Senana was naive, she must have appreciated what this meant: Gruffydd and Owain would be taken from Dafydd’s prison into royal custody. So long as Henry could use him as leverage against Dafydd, Gruffydd would never be released. Perhaps Senana realised this, but had better hopes of obtaining the release of her son. In any event, it was better than Gruffydd should abide with his step-uncle than his half-brother, who would in all likelihood have him killed.

The king moved on. Like his son over thirty years later, he overran the northeast coast and pitched his headquarters at Rhuddlan. Before the end of August, on the banks of the Elwy in the cantref of Rhos, Prince Dafydd came to the king and threw down his arms.

Deadly war

In 1240 Prince Dafydd ap Llywelyn swore homage and fealty to Henry III for his right to North Wales. This should have removed any source of conflict, but then a row blew up over the border fortress of Mold, some five miles to the west of the Dee.

The remains of Mold Castle

Via the peace of Gloucester, Dafydd’s right to the castle was reserved. In October 1240 the matter was submitted for arbitration to a team of English and Welsh judges. The English side included the papal legate, while the Welsh side included Ednyfed Fychan and the bishop of St Asaph, two of the most powerful elder statesmen of Wales.

Dafydd refused two summons to appear before the commissioners. This was an eerie foreshadow of later events, when his nephew Llywelyn ap Gruffudd refused to appear before Edward I. In Dafydd’s case, the context turned on a subtle point of feudal law: Henry III had originally agreed to submit the issue of Mold to arbitration. In March 1241, contrary to the terms of peace, he treated the matter in dispute as though it fell within his jurisdiction. In plain language, it was no longer a dispute between equals, but between a lord and his vassal.

This struck at the heart of the problematic relationship between the English crown and the princes of North Wales: were Llywelyn the Great and his heirs heads of state in their own right, albeit owing homage to the king, or were they merely tenants-in-chief?

Dafydd’s mistake, later repeated by his nephew, was to refuse to appear to argue his case. Judgement went against him by default, and when he failed to appear a second time Henry took action. The king gained the approval of the other Welsh princes by promising to satisfy the claims of Dafydd’s prisoner, his brother Gruffydd.

There was certainly more sympathy for Gruffydd than Dafydd in Wales. Gruffydd ap Madog, lord of Bromfield, expressed the prevailing view when he promised the king everlasting support:

“if he would invade Wales, and make deadly war against the false Dafydd and his many wrongs.”

Dafydd also incurred the censure of the church. In July 1241, after his attempt to persuade the prince to release Gruffydd failed, Bishop Richard of Bangor excommunicated Dafydd and went to Henry demanding military action.

Kissing cousins (1)

Much of Western Europe in the thirteenth century was governed by one big family: the royal houses of France, England, Castile, Aragon, Navarre, Sicily and Provence were closely related to each other. When a quarrel broke out between individual members of the clan, everyone tended to get dragged in.

Pamplona

In July 1274 the king of Navarre, Enrique el Gordo - Henry the Fat - died with no male heir. His baby son had died tragically when his nurse accidentally dropped him over the battlements of the Navarrese castle at Estella. Enrique left a daughter, Jeanne, just eighteen months old. The ensuing scramble for power resembled the Maid of Norway situation in Scotland sixteen years later. To protect his daughter, Enrique had agreed to marry her to Edward I of England’s heir, Prince Henry. In the marriage treaty it was explained that both kings wished to suppress disorder in Navarre, which had been so frequent. The two kings also promised to give each other aid against all other men save their overlord, the king of France: this clause is exactly the same as other treaties of the period, such as the Turnberry Band or the Treaty of Radnor between Roger Mortimer and Prince Llywelyn of Wales.

Philip III

The treaty was soon rendered null and void. At the time of Enrique’s death, Edward had just crossed the English Channel on his way to be crowned at Westminster. Soon afterwards his heir, Henry, died unexpectedly, and Navarre was threatened by civil war. Enrique’s widow, Queen Blanche, was also threatened by the pretensions of the kings of Castile and Aragon, who wanted to grab the kingless realm of Navarre for themselves; again there are distinct similarities between Edward’s opportunistic behaviour in Scotland.

Blanche fled with her daughter for protection to the court of Philip III in Paris. The girl was betrothed to Philip’s second son, and as her guardian the king took possession of Blanche’s lands of Champagne and Brie. He also sent the seneschal of Toulouse, Eustace de Beaumarchais, to take the homage of the Navarrese. Eustace installed a French garrison in the citadel of Pamplona, and set about abusing the rights and privileges of the Navarrese people. The result was a full-scale revolt in favour of the king of Castile. Eustace soon found himself besieged inside the citadel by an army of Navarrese nobles.

He sent a messenger to King Philip, who ordered the Comte d’Artois to raise an army in the seneschalries of Toulouse, Carcassone, Beaucaire and Périgeux, and march to the relief of Pamplona. Artois and his men dashed across the Pyrenees and laid siege to the Navarrese who had laid siege to the French. At this point the Navarrese nobles decided it was all far too confusing, and ran away under cover of darkness. The citizens of Pamplona and the rest of Navarre then submitted to the French.

The saga of Iorwerth Foel (1)

Iorwerth Foel was a landholder of Anglesey in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century. His great-great granddaughter was Margaret Hanmer, wife of Owain Glyn Dwr.

In 1278 Iorwerth presented a petition to parliament (above), complaining that when he had come to the King’s peace and then served the King in war, Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd had taken his horses and corn, and the plunder of his men, and therefore Iorwerth claimed justice and restitution. Llywelyn had done these things after the peace of Aberconwy, and hence was guilty of felony. Iorwerth also complained that a fortnight or more after the departure of the King from Rhuddlan, Prince Llywelyn had feloniously burnt all the houses on his land, on account of Iorwerth joining the King’s army. Lastly, he complained that he dared not and could not cultivate nor inhabit his hereditary lands nor approach any part of the land of the Prince. On these complaints he was told to go before the Justices assigned in Wales and receive justice. The final outcome of the plea is unknown.

Prince Llywelyn’s treatment of Iorwerth either suggests he had a short way with dissenters, or was particularly outraged at the defection of one of his closest supporters at a crucial time:

“This case was just one of many which showed that Llywelyn could no longer rely on the support of his own subjects, let alone on that of leading Welshmen outside Gwynedd.” - AD Carr, Medieval Anglesey

Cilmeri: another slant

Below is the well-known entry from the Brut describing the last days of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd:

“And then was effected the betrayal of Llywelyn in the belfry of Bangor by his own men. And then Llywelyn ap Gruffudd left Dafydd, his brother, guarding Gwynedd, and he himself and his host went to gain possession of Powys and Buellt. And he gained possession of them as far as Llanganten. And thereupon he sent his men and his steward to receive the homage of the men of Brycheiniog, and the prince was left with but a few men with him.”

This account was probably written about 1320, hence later than other chronicle sources for Llywelyn’s death. Yet it contains details not found elsewhere, such as Llywelyn’s march into Powys and the despatch of his steward to take the homage of the men of Brycheiniog. The fate of his steward or ‘distain’ (seneschal) is perhaps a neglected detail. Llywelyn’s previous distain, Tudur ab Ednyfed, had died in 1278 and the identity of his successor is uncertain. However in 1281 a man named Dafydd ab Einion appears at the head of a witness-list on a document issued by Llywelyn. This was the position usually reserved for the distain, who was normally preceded only by princes and important clerics.

Moreover, Dafydd was the son of Einion Fychan, a leading minister under Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, Dafydd ap Llywelyn and Llywelyn ap Gruffudd. Therefore there is nothing unlikely in the son of such a high-ranking individual being appointed to the rank of distain. The family hailed from Anglesey.

The distain sent to take the homage of the men of Brycheiniog in 1282 is not named by the Brut. In the ministers’s accounts of the fourteenth century, however, reference is made to an Anglesey man, Dafydd ab Einion Fychan, who died ‘against the peace’ - contra pacem - in South Wales. In other words, he died in arms against the English crown.

If the Dafydd who died ‘contra pacem’ can be identified as Llywelyn’s distain - and the evidence, while not conclusive, is quite strong - then this would make sense of the Brut account. It would also make sense of the army that allegedly ‘vanished’ at Cilmeri. Llywelyn’s army did not vanish, and nor do his men lie under a local golf course. Instead, according to the Brut, he sent the bulk of his force with Dafydd into Brycheiniog, while he and a few men went to their fatal meeting with the Mortimers and their allies near Builth.

The army thus met its Waterloo much further south, and Llywelyn’s men fell alongside Dafydd ab Einion; or were ‘swept away in flight’, as Peckham’s Register puts it. This would imply the plan to draw Llywelyn and his army to their doom was organised and widespread all along the line of the marches. Brycheiniog was Bohun territory, though Llywelyn, Clare and Mortimer all had a stake in it.

To conclude. English records of the 1290s refer to a Dafydd Fychan ap Dafydd ab Einion who held his father’s lands in Dindaethwy, Anglesey, for a fine of £5 per year. This is almost certainly the son of Dafydd Einion, Llywelyn’s probable distain. If his father had died in arms against the king, this would explain why he held his lands conditionally on payment of a ‘fine’ instead of rent.

Inheriting the purple

At the Lincoln parliament of 1301, on 7 February, Edward I granted the royal lands in Wales, along with the earldom of Chester, to his son Edward of Caernarfon. This was reminiscent of the grant made to Edward senior by his father, Henry III, forty-seven years earlier, and did not give the heir to the throne any specific title; Edward junior only began to be termed Prince of Wales from May onwards.

The grant may have been related to the forthcoming Scottish campaign. Edward had not raised any Welsh troops for the Galloway campaign in 1300, which proved a mistake as the English raised from the northern counties deserted in large numbers. In 1301 the king planned a two-pronged attack on the Scots; he would lead one army from Berwick, while Prince Edward led another from Carlisle. The idea was to catch the Guardians in a pincer movement and force them to battle.

In what looks like an act of political symbolism, the newly-minted Prince of Wales was given an army of Welshmen. William de Caumvill, Warin Martyn and Morgan ap Maredudd were empowered to raise the men of South and West Wales and ‘bring them to Carlisle by Friday before Midsummer’. The two sons of Hywel ap Meurig, Philip and Rhys, were appointed to pay the infantry conducted to Carlisle. Meanwhile Gruffudd Llwyd, Iwan ap Hywel and several others were appointed to raise the men of North Wales, specifically those of the Four Cantreds and Hopedale.

Carlisle Castle

Among the prince’s army were the sons of loyalist or defeated Welsh princes. Gwilym de la Pole and his brother Gruffudd, two of the sons of Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, served in the retinue of John de Havering, Justiciar of North Wales. The four sons of Madog ap Llywelyn, self-proclaimed Prince of Wales, were transferred from prison to Prince Edward’s bodyguard. As symbolism went, this was fairly blunt: the Plantagenet was master of Wales now, and his son had ‘inherited the purple’, as it were.

Getting the men up to Carlisle wasn’t an easy process. Warin Martyn, leader of the men of West Wales, later sought and received a pardon for the robberies and murders his men committed while they marched through England. The Welsh weren’t always perpetrators: on 26 July 1302 a commission was set up to investigate the killing of Welsh soldiers, attacked at Wigan in Lancashire on their way back from the Scottish war.