Foix the fox (1)

In 1289 Gaston VII, Vicomte of Béarn in southern Gascony, was made an offer he couldn’t refuse. He was a titled brigand who had spent the past forty years playing off his feudal overlords against each other; Gaston’s standard tactic was to go into revolt against his direct overlord, the King of England, and then run squealing for help to his indirect overlord, the King of France. He used the ensuing chaos to run riot and burn and pillage at will: in 1274 it was estimated that he had caused 100,000 livres tournois worth of damage during his ‘cavalgade’ and plundering raids.

He finally overplayed his hand by arranging a marriage between his daughter Margaret to Roger-Bernard III, count of Foix in southwest France. Gaston had no son, so his inheritance would fall to his son-in-law. The marriage was sanctioned by Edward I, but neither the English king or his cousin, Philip III of France, were overjoyed at the prospect between Foix and Béarn. This created a power bloc on the edge of the Pyrenees that threatened the local hegemony of both kingdoms.

The kings decided to get rid of Gaston before he came up with any more bright ideas. As part of their plans for a joint crusade, Gaston was obliged to agree to go with them to the Holy Land. He had backed out of Edward’s previous crusade in 1270, but this time there was no escape clause. The agreement stipulated that Edward would confiscate Gaston’s lands for debts owed to the English crown, while all of his castles would either be destroyed or taken into the king’s hands. He would, in effect, be disinherited and exiled.

This was precisely the same ‘offer’ made to Prince Dafydd ap Gruffudd in November 1282. Dafydd had refused, but Gaston had no choice: if he said no, Edward and Philip would crush him like a bug. He took the cross in 1290 and - as if to cheat his enemies - promptly died a few days later, leaving five knights of Béarn to redeem his vow.

Enter Foix the fox alias Count Roger-Bernard III. This guy was a player and a half.

Expanding states

In the mid to late thirteenth century the big beasts of Western Europe decided to devour their less powerful neighbours, and then each other. Edward I’s efforts in Wales and Scotland are perhaps the best-known - certainly in modern times, thanks to the influence of films and novels and politics - but he was scarcely unique. Philip III of France mounted a disastrous invasion of Aragon, and his even more aggressive successor Philip III made determined efforts to conquer Flanders and Gascony. He also contemplated a full-scale invasion of England. Meanwhile the King of the Germans, Adolf of Nassau, waged war against his own people in an effort to turn the Holy Roman Empire into one vast centralized state.

Naturally, all this aggressive expansionism met with resistance. Edward failed in Scotland but succeeded in Wales; Philip failed in Gascony and imposed a sort of half-conquest on Flanders; Adolf failed in all respects and was chopped up on a German battlefield. His dismal fate was shared by the likes of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, whose efforts to establish a united Wales ended in disaster, and the Count of Holland, flung into a ditch and stabbed to death by his own nobles.

Other than crude power-grabbing, what was the ideology beyond the expansion of medieval states? One might say it was the logical effort to bind together a single people with their own laws, language and culture. That’s a little too pat, and doesn’t explain why Llywelyn, Adolf and Count Floris (among others) were abandoned at crucial times by their own people.

Philip le Bel

One aspect was the ‘religion of monarchy’. Philip le Bel was the greatest exponent of this: he was the most powerful monarch in Europe, the Vicar of God, the chief pillar of the Church, the inheritor of the holy insignia and unifying mission of Charlemagne. To oppose him was not only evil, it was sacrilegious. In his mind, and that of his fanatical chancellor Pierre Flote, there was no conflict. As Guillaume de Nogaret, another of Philip’s ministers, succinctly expressed it:

‘No true believer can fail to see that the interests of the French monarchy and the interests of the Church are identical. The Flemings are heretics, and Pope Boniface is a heretic, because they oppose the King of France, who is the pillar of the Church’.

The third pic is of the imperial crown of the Holy Roman Empire, a terrific bit of bling.

Execution

So the execution of Prince Dafydd at Shrewsbury in 1283. I'm having to rush since today is the anniversary, but that's my fault for attempting to pack his career into just three days.

Anyway. This is a grim subject but the precise method of Dafydd's death is not clear. The version repeated in some modern accounts is that he was hanged, drawn and quartered i.e. taken to the gallows, hanged, cut down while still alive, eviscerated, and only then beheaded and quartered. Slow torture.

This is not readily apparent from medieval accounts of the execution. As usual they don't tally. The Chronicle of Bury St Edmunds says that Dafydd:

...was convicted of treason, lese-majesté and sacrilege, and condemned to be drawn, hanged, beheaded, burned and quartered.

 The Annals of Worcester says:

He was dragged through the chanting citizens of Shrewsbury by horses, then hanged, afterwards beheaded. 

The Annales Cambriae says:

On 3 September following he was hanged and drawn at Shrewsbury and divided into four parts with head cut off. Etc.

The key word is 'drawn': was Dafydd 'drawn' to the gallows or 'drawn' as in being cut apart while still alive? On balance, it appears he was hanged, cut down while still alive, beheaded and then drawn. This was nasty enough, of course, but not quite the prolonged torture of living disembowelment sometimes described. 

There's something horrible and degrading about picking over the accounts of a grisly medieval execution, but we should probably try and get it right. Dafydd was not the first victim of the English judiciary to suffer in this way: an assassin who tried to kill Henry III was torn apart by horses a few decades earlier. He was, however, the first nobleman to be executed for what was effectively high treason, even though the actual conviction was for cumulative offences and 'high treason' was not yet on the statute book.

The tragedy of Dafydd (6)

Prince Dafydd spent two years in exile at the court of Edward I, apparently doing very little. His Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, who had fled with him into England, was much more pro-active and set up headquarters at Shrewsbury. From here Gruffudd and his sons led frequent raids into their former territory in southern Powys, now occupied by the armies of Prince Llywelyn.

When war broke out between Edward and Llywelyn in 1276, Dafydd was sent to join the royal army gathering at Chester under the Earl of Warwick. He served with his retinue or 'teulu' of two hundred Welsh horsemen, among hundreds of English knights and men-at-arms. All we know of Dafydd's actions is an order from  the king addressed to him and Guncelin de Badlesmere, justice of Chester, ordering them to 'receive to the king's peace' the Welsh of Bromfield, the district corresponding to the southern part of the present county of Denbighshire. This order was dated 26 December, so Dafydd spent a busy Christmas and New Year forcing his countrymen in Bromfield to submit to Edward's will.

This was followed by a general advance upon Llywelyn's position in the middle Dee, in which Dafydd again probably served as Warwick's army drove back the Welsh from the immediate west of Chester. Meanwhile feudal army stores and men continued to pour into the town, which would serve Edward as a main base over the summer. Orders survive for companies of workmen and crossbowmen sent up to Chester ahead of the king's advance.

We know more of Dafydd's actions in the spring of 1277. On 12 April 1277 he and Warwick advanced into Powys Fadog and forced Gruffudd ap Madog to partition the lordship between himself and his brothers, or be permanently disinherited. Apart from some lingering resistance at Castell Dinas Bran, this removed Llywelyn's last ally outside Gwynedd and left him isolated west of the Conwy, surrounded by royal armies and navies. Faced with starvation, he submitted in November.

Dafydd did not get all that he wanted from the king's war. In August, at Flint, Edward had promised that he would restore to Dafydd and his brother Owain half of Snowdonia, Anglesey and Penllyn, with the Lleyn peninsular, if he defeated Llywelyn. Alternatively , should Edward decided to keep the whole of Anglesey, the rest of Gwynedd would be divided between Dafydd and Owain. Llywelyn would be left totally disinherited.

In the event, Edward decided to force terms on Llywelyn rather than destroy him: the total defeat of the prince required an invasion of Snowdonia, and the king was too cautious a military commander to take that risk in the dead of winter. Dafydd was therefore granted the land of Hopedale and two of the Four Cantreds, Dyffrwyn Clwyd and Rhufoniog: this was, in fact, a renewal of the original grant Edward had made to Dafydd when the latter initially defected in 1263. So Dafydd could have his cake and like it.

But Dafydd wanted more cake. MORE CAKE FOR DAFYDD!

The tragedy of Dafydd (5)

In September 1267 Dafydd was at the ford of Rhyd Chwima, the ford by Montgomery, to take part in the treaty negotiations between his brother Llywelyn and Henry III. Here, in the presence of the papal legate Ottobuono, Llywelyn knelt before the king and swore homage and fealty for the principality of Wales. He was the first and last Prince of Wales to gain such explicit recognition of his title from the English crown, but the arrangement did not secure any kind of political independence. Llywelyn’s authority as prince stemmed from his vassal status, a subordinate of the English king, just as the Count of Flanders was a vassal of the Capetian kings of France.

Dafydd was the elephant in the room. Via the terms of the Treaty of Montgomery, Llywelyn was bound to provide for his younger brother, who had defected to the English back in 1263. During the talks it was “specially ordained” that provision would be made for Dafydd, and that Llywelyn would restore to him the land he held in Wales before his defection. Further arrangements would be made if Dafydd was not satisfied. This appears to have been an effort to honour the agreement of 1263, in which Edward had promised to come to no agreement with Llywelyn without consulting Dafydd. To avoid breaking that treaty, the decision was passed to Llywelyn.

This must have annoyed Dafydd, who now found himself dependent on his brother’s charity. For all his ambition and striving, the best he could hope for was to be granted an estate within the borders of Llywelyn’s principality.

Dafydd ate his heart out for several years. Llywelyn, whose patience with his permanently disgruntled sibling was remarkable, welcomed him back to the fold. Together they waged war against Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, and invaded his lands of Senghenydd. Here Dafydd witnessed Llywelyn’s first real defeat as the prince failed to prevent the construction of Clare’s mighty new castle at Caerphilly. This seemed to plant an idea in his mind, though it took a while to germinate.

In early 1274 Dafydd entered into a plot with Owain ap Gwenwynwyn, eldest son of the lord of southern Powys. Together they planned to murder Llywelyn at Christmas, when the prince’s bodyguard was away touring his estates. The plan was for Dafydd to open a gate at night to allow Owain and his men into the court. Together they would go to Llywelyn’s bedchamber and murder him. In the morning Dafydd would be proclaimed the new Prince of Wales, presumably while Llywelyn’s body was quietly smuggled out of a rear entrance.

The plan was foiled by a snowstorm, which obliged Owain and his band of assassins to turn back. Llywelyn then got wind of the plot and summoned Dafydd to explain himself, but he and Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn fled over the border into England. The new king, Edward I, welcomed these useful idiots…valuable political allies…to his court.

The tragedy of Dafydd (4)

In March 1264 the alliance of Prince Dafydd and the Lord Edward kicked into gear. Civil war had broken out in England, and the conflict spilled over into the Welsh March. Edward arrived in the marches in February, where he deprived the Bohuns of their castles of Hay, Huntingdon and Brecon and handed them over to Roger Mortimer. He then turned about and attempted to relieve Gloucester, where the rebel barons had forced entry to the town and laid siege to the castle. John Giffard and another man allegedly tricked the porters by disguising themselves as Welsh merchants, only to throw off their outfits as soon as the gates were opened.

Three days before Edward’s first attempt to save Gloucester, Prince Dafydd and William de Zouche, the justice of Chester, poured over the border with an army of men of Cheshire and Shropshire and attacked the lands of Robert de Ferrers in Staffordshire. Ferrers, the Earl of Derby and at this point a Montfortian, had just sacked Worcester. The timing of the attack on his estates in Staffordshire is suspicously coincidental with Edward’s march, and suggests it was an attempt to draw Ferrers away from helping his allies at Gloucester. Dafydd and his allies stormed Stafford and seized Chartley Castle (pictured), one of the jewels in Ferrers’s crown. They also plundered churches and burnt the town of Stone, to the north of Stafford. On 2 March they attacked Stafford again, but were repulsed by another group of Marchers, probably led by Ralph Basset of Drayton.

It seems Dafydd did enough to distract Ferrers long enough for Edward to fix up a truce with the rebel leaders at Gloucester, which he promptly broke as soon as their backs were turned. Ferrers was not best pleased:

‘The earl Robert Ferrers, when he came hither, he was well-nigh mad for wrath that they had made agreement. He smote his steed with his spur, as did all his company. And turned himself for wrath again, as quick as he might hasten’ (Robert of Gloucester).

Later in the year, Ferrers got his opportunity for revenge. In May 1264 Edward and his father, Henry III, were captured at the Battles of Lewes. This left Ferrers free to deal with Prince Dafydd and his Marcher allies, who were encamped near the Cheshire border. In late October the earl raised an army twenty thousand strong - surely an exaggeration - and advanced to meet the army raised against him and led by Dafydd, Zouche and James Audley.

 The engagement that followed was a disaster for Dafydd: his men broke ranks and fled without striking a blow, and over a hundred killed in the rout. It was a Pyrhhic victory for Ferrers. A few weeks later he was lured to London by Simon de Montfort on false pretences, and then thrown into prison. Simon had his beady eye on Edward’s lordship of Chester, as did Ferrers. Now he had Edward and Ferrers in custody, Simon could grab it for himself.

After his defeat at Chester, Dafydd slips off the radar for a while. He was technically still Edward’s ally, but isn’t known to have played any part in the final defeat of Simon de Montfort at Evesham in 1265. Possibly he was laying low somewhere, living off royal wages and waiting for events to turn in his favour. Shortly before Evesham, his brother Prince Llywelyn had agreed to an alliance with Simon at Pipton. It was a rather one-sided alliance, in which Llywelyn agreed to do something if Simon gave him everything, including the title Prince of Wales.

King Henry, dragged about as Simon’s captive, was compelled to put his seal to a document that went against his entire Welsh policy for the past thirty years. Llywelyn probably knew full well that his ally was doomed, and stayed well clear of the impending catastrophe. After the rebel army was obliterated Edward sent him one of Simon’s severed feet as a present.

The tragedy of Dafydd (3)

In 1262 a rumour spread that Llywelyn ap Gruffudd had died of a sudden illness. The story travelled across the Channel and reached the ears of Henry III at Amiens in France, who immediately sought to take advantage. He dispatched a letter to the Marchers and native princes of Wales, ordering them to look sharp.

The orders issued from Henry’s chancery reveal the king’s strategy in Wales. Now Llywelyn was dead - apparently - it was vital to secure the homage of Welsh lords, which the crown had claimed for generations. Henry knew exactly how to achieve this: divide their strength and pit them against each other. A show of force was also necessary. The king told Roger Mortimer and the other marchers to dissolve any existing alliances with the Welsh, and be ready to muster at Shrewsbury in September for a full-scale invasion. Meanwhile the king sought confirmation from Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, lord of southern Powys, whether Llywelyn was alive or dead.

Henry sent one of the marchers, James Audley, to order Gruffudd ap Madog to abandon Prince Dafydd and bring Powys Fadog back into the king’s allegiance. It was absolutely essential that Dafydd should not be acknowledged as Llywelyn’s heir. Technically Henry was correct: Dafydd had no automatic right to inherit, since his brothers Owain and Rhodri were still alive. Yet the king’s newfound love for Welsh custom was all part of his determination to ensure Gwynedd was partitioned in the wake of Llywelyn’s death.

Reports of the prince’s demise were greatly exaggerated. He recovered from his illness, prompting the Brut chronicler to remark that Divine providence afforded its sure protection to the Welsh nation.

As usual, Dafydd chose to follow his own unpredictable course. Despite being unceremoniously ditched by the king in 1262, he remained keen on an English alliance. When the Lord Edward came to the marches in the spring of 1263, Dafydd was sought an early meeting. The two men met at Hereford, where on 3 April Edward issued pardons to Dafydd and his men for waging war against the king. Via the same agreement he promised to: …

assist Dafydd in recovering his reasonable inheritance beyond the Conway, and granting him, in the meantime, the lands of Dyffryn Clwyd and Cynmeirch.

This agreement was approved by the king on 26 May and improved on 8 July with provision made for Dafydd, pending delivery of the lands, in Hawarden and Shotwick. The final treaty represented the start of a 19-year military and political alliance between Dafydd and the future Edward I.

It would be unreasonable to accuse Dafydd of simply betraying Llywelyn, when the latter was at the height of his success. The well-informed Chester chronicler says that he wished to liberate his brother Owain from prison at Dolbadarn. This may have some truth to it. Certainly, Owain’s confinement only served to rachet up the tensions in Gwynedd, and did nothing for Llywelyn’s popularity among his own people.

Dafydd had chosen to throw in his lot with Edward before the English prince led his army into Gwynedd. This was Edward’s first independent command in Wales. He managed to resupply his beleagured castles at Deganwy (pictured) and Diserth, but the French knights he brought over from the continent were tournament fighters, unsuited for guerilla warfare in North Wales. The Welsh led them in circles before vanishing into the forests and ‘morasses’, while Edward’s allies in the south found it hard going. John Lestrange was almost killed in an ambush at Abermule, Roger Mortimer was severely wounded in a skirmish, and Prince Llywelyn ap Maredudd killed in a battle at Clun.

The fight at Clun, however, was a defeat for Prince Llywelyn, who was engaged in the area south of Montgomery centred on the lordship of John FitzAlan. Possession of this land would extend Llywelyn’s authority to the outer limits of a territory which maintained ‘a community of the Welsh language’. To put Dafydd’s behaviour into context, John FitzAlan shortly afterwards chose to desert the king and join Simon de Montfort. He also struck a deal with Llywelyn, whereby FitzAlan agreed to hand over the lordship of Tempsiter or Dyffryn Tefeidiad to the Welsh prince.

Honestly, you couldn’t trust anyone.