Malice and suspicion

 

In 1273 King Hugh Lusignan of Cyprus lost control of his chief mainland fief of Beirut in the Holy Land. This was due to the marriage of the heiress, Isabella d'Ibelin, to Hamo Lestrange. Hamo was one of the followers of Lord Edward, and had come to Palestine in the company of the future king. He was a lord of the March in Wales, and like his master had earned a reputation for courage and cruelty. The Westminster chronicler gave Hamo a spectacular write-up: 

“...a man of the greatest notoriety as a plunderer, who, although he had often borne himself gallantly in the shock of battle, nevertheless, in consequence of his tyrannical cruelty, deservedly received the brand of Traso, instead of his name of Tyro”. 

Traso was derived from the Greek 'Thrasos', the personified concept of boldness in both positive and negative terms; it can mean courage or over-boldness or insolence. When Thrasos appears as a personified form in Greek legend, it as a malicious and suspicious being, mentioned together with Hybris (hubris) and Atë, the goddess of mischief, delusion and ruin. Euripides described Thrasos as an irresistible, unconquerable, unholy spirit. Tyro, by contrast, means a recruit or novice. 

The marriage was probably Edward's initiative, to forge closer links between the Latin realms of Acre and Beirut. It was also at the instigation of Isabella, who was in trouble with the Pope. She was carrying on an affair with Julian of Sidon, a notorious rake who had previously distinguished himself by murdering a Mongol warlord, and then running away when the Mongols came for revenge. While he played with Isabella, Julian was already married to Euphemia, daughter of the King of Armenia. 

Two successive popes, Urban IV and Clement IV, were so enraged by the scandal they issued two papal letters, Audi filia et and De sinu patris, which condemned noblemen and noblewomen for inappropriate behaviour. Isabella was urged to remarry or burn in Hell. There was also the problem of incest: Julian was the grandson of Balian of Ibelin, while Isabella was Balian's great-great granddaughter. To save herself from Rome, Isabella put aside her lover and agreed to marry Hamo. 

When Edward left the Holy Land, Hamo chose to stay in Beirut with his new wife. He must have found the splendour and exotic surroundings of the Holy Land a very far cry from the damp, rainswept Marches of Wales. Whatever his flaws, Hamo must have loved Isabella, even at the risk of his faith. In 1273, about a year after Edward's departure, Hamo fell mortally ill. On his deathbed he was informed that King Hugh of Cyprus was planning to seize his widow. Hugh's plan was obvious: get hold of Isabella, marry her off to some crony, and thus re-establish direct control of Beirut. 

To prevent this, Hugh took a drastic step. Shortly before he died, he placed Isabella in the care of none other than Baybars, the all-conquering Mamluk sultan, whom Hamo had come to Palestine to fight. It says much for the Lusignans that a Frankish noble would rather place his widow in the hands of an Islamic warlord. 

Baybars was happy to accept. The sultan has a brutal reputation, but in this case he did no more than was asked of him. After Hamo's death, King Hugh pounced and tried to carry off Isabella to Cyprus. Baybars at once cited the pact and demanded her return. The High Court of Cyprus gave the king no support, and he was obliged to send Isabella back to Beirut, where a Mamluk guard was installed to protect her. 

However, King Hugh got his way in the end. The death of Baybars in 1277 removed that obstacle, and then Isabella herself died in 1282. Beirut passed to her sister, Eschiva, the wife of Humphrey de Montfort, a loyal support of the King of Cyprus. 

Pretend horses

 

Kenilworth castle

In July 1265 Simon de Montfort the younger abandoned his futile siege of Pevensey and went to London. His purpose was to raise a new army to rescue his father, trapped in Wales on the wrong side of the Severn. According to Thomas Wykes, Simon assembled sixteen standard bearers and a 'countless multitude of warriors'. 

However, instead of rushing to his father's aid, Simon chose to attack Winchester. On 16 July his men gained entry 'through a certain window in the monastery of St Swithin'. These 'accomplices of Satan' sacked the town, killing citizens and plundering churches. 

Afterwards, loaded with spoil, Simon's army moved on to Oxford, Northampton and finally Kenilworth. His strategy was to distract the forces of Lord Edward, based at Worcester, so Simon could get over the Severn and join his father at Hereford. 

Edward's position was roughly equidistant between Hereford and Kenilworth (24 and 34 miles respectively). He had to knock out one of the Montfortian armies before they could link up. Combined, they would have parity with the royal army, or even outnumber it. 

An important source for what followed is the Evesham Chronicle, recently translated by Tony Spicer. The original manuscript was written by a monk of Evesham abbey sometime between 1265 and 1279. It no longer exists, but five later copies survive. Of these, manuscript B is the most complete. The chronicle is separate to the 'Last Hours' account, discovered in 2000, but similar in detail. Thus, we effectively have two contemporary local accounts of the war in summer 1265. 

The Evesham account clears up the puzzle over Edward's movements in late July. According to Wykes, Edward set out on a feigned march to Shrewsbury on 3 August, then turned round and marched through the night to Evesham. This is generally accepted to be impossible, being an over-elaborate deception that would have given the prince's tired army another 4 miles or so to march. 

Rather neatly, the Evesham chronicle places Edward's feigned march a few days earlier, before his attack on Kenilworth. Quote: 

“For, about the Festival of James the Apostle [25 July], Edward the king's firstborn and Gilbert de Clare Earl of Gloucester and the other country magnates who were present at Worcester, feigned their journey towards Shrewsbury and sent the caparisons with their foot soldiers as a deception”. 

These details, written by a local scribe, are convincing. A caparison was a cloth covering laid over a horse for protection. So, it appears Edward split his army and sent off his infantry with the caparisons; this in turn conjures the image of his soldiers running about the countryside, pretending to be horses. That would certainly be a distraction. 

Meanwhile Edward and his knights veered off on the road that led towards Kenilworth. Several chroniclers state that he had a number of 'clever spies' in the Montfortian camp. Among these, according to Walter of Guisborough, was a very interesting lady named Margoth: 

“...his spy Margoth who although a woman was however dressed in male clothing so that she could pass as a man...” 

Tell us more about Margoth, Walter! Alas, she is never heard of again. 

Big shoe

 

Following up my posts on Meurig ap Dafydd, the leader of the Welsh revolt in Gwent in 1294-5. I started posting on this man a couple of weeks, but didn't have time to finish before going on holiday. Oops.

To recap: Meurig was a burgess of Abergavenny and royal tax collector, chosen by the local Welsh as their leader during the revolt that swept over Wales at this time. While Morgan ap Maredudd attacked the lands and castles of Gilbert de Clare in Glamorgan, Meurig's army laid siege to Abergavenny. The revolt in Gwent was shattered in mid-February, when Humphrey de Bohun broke the siege, slaughtered Meurig's followers and devastated their lands. Bohun remained in the south-east until the summer, when Edward I came to Brecon on 16 June. By that point the revolt was well and truly over.

Meurig's fate is unknown, and he might well have been killed in the fighting over the spring. The king's postwar settlement of Gwent was not straightforward. On 21 June he granted John Hastings, lord of Gwent, the forfeitures of all Welshmen and tenants lately in arms against the king. These men, presumably the surviving rebels, had recently been admitted to the peace. However, the grant then states the Welsh are permitted their lives and limbs and lands and tenements. This left Hastings with the option of imposing fines, except the king also reserved the right to mitigate or cancel any fines, if they seemed too grievous.

Hastings was thus left with the option of throwing a shoe at the Welsh, so long as it wasn't a big shoe. Curiously, the entire grant was then cancelled altogether. Now Hastings didn't even have a shoe.

The cancelled grant was followed by a string of further royal instructions, which make for interesting reading. In 1297 the Welshries of Morgannwg and Brecon were granted various charters of liberties: these included the respite of fines imposed upon them for the recent revolt – the communities of Miskin and Senghenydd were exempted in this way – and the grant of the laws and customs of their ancestors.

As Rees Davies (pictured) noted, the king was turning the aftermath of the revolt to his advantage, and exploiting it to drive a wedge between the Marcher lords and the Welshry on their estates.

Making covenants

 

In late June 1265 the town of Gloucester surrendered to the royalists after a siege of three weeks. Robert of Gloucester, a local chronicler, describes the terms of surrender:

“And Sir Edward gave them life and limb, and yet more grace,
Their arms, and all other things, and their horses each one.
Then Grimbauld Pauncefoot turned to Edward anon,
And was made knight, and bore arms against Sir Simon”.

Grimbauld was one of many Montfortian barons who submitted to the future king, were granted mercy, and served Edward for the remainder of their lives. None of them are to be found among his political opponents, even when he rode roughshod over the Great Charter. This would suggest that Simon's baronial followers were very far from proto-democrats, inspired by love of the common man. What they wanted was effective leadership at the top. Henry III could not supply that, Edward I could.

They were also after material rewards. On 18 January 1266, a few months after his surrender, Grimbauld secured the marriage of Sybil Turbeville, daughter of Robert, lord of Crickhowell on the Welsh March. When Robert went on crusade and failed to return, the lordship passed to Grimbauld.

It should not have. Robert left two sons, Hugh and Thomas. Hugh had been enfeoffed (formally granted) Crickhowell long before his father left for the Holy Land. Even so, the lordship went to Grimbauld. He was definitely in possession by November 1275, when a merchant of Chartres acquitted Hugh Turbervill of his debts for Crickhowell, and declared that in future he would look to Grimbauld for payment. Hugh was appointed constable of Castell y Bere in 1290, but this was small beans by comparison.

His younger brother Thomas was a famous traitor, who defected to the French after being captured in Gascony. In 1295 he drew up a detailed report, which still survives, advising the French king how to invade and conquer England. Interestingly, the report states that the Welsh are ready to rise under the leadership of a certain Morgan:

“...if those of Scotland rise against the King of England, the Welsh will rise also. And this I have well contrived, and Morgan has fully covenanted with me to that effect.”

This can only be Morgan ap Maredudd of Glamorgan, since there was no other prominent Welsh leader of that name at the time. After several months of spying in England and the Marches, Thomas was arrested and executed at Smithfield. It may be that Thomas held a grudge against the king for the loss of his inheritance, which explains his actions.

Amazingly, his co-conspirator, Morgan, suffered no punishment. Morgan had also emerged unscathed from the previous Welsh war of 1283, where he appears among the last followers of Prince Dafydd's council. Every other member of the council was either killed or imprisoned.

Not Morgan. Every time, he came out smelling of roses. We know he worked as the king's spy in later years; he had probably always been in royal service, and acted as agent provocateur in the Turbeville affair.

No plaques for Morgan, one suspects.

Boomerang in Brycheiniog

 

On 15 May 1266 Roger Mortimer apparently suffered a bad defeat in Brycheiniog. This is reported in the Annals of Waverley, which translates:

“...and in the Vigil of Pentecost Roger de Mortimer's entire army was slain in Brecon, and he was the only one to escape”.

Mortimer's defeat is not referenced anywhere else. We don't even know who he was fighting, but can take a few educated guesses.

The silence in pro-Venedotian chronicles may imply the battle had nothing to do with Gwynedd. Hence, this was not a fight between Mortimer and his cousin Prince Llywelyn. The lordship of Brycheniog was also contested by Gilbert de Clare and Humphrey Bohun. Clare had protested to the king, Henry III, that Mortimer was planning to murder him. However, if it had come to an open fight between the two powerful Marchers, you might expect it to be noticed elsewhere. As for the Bohuns, they were a busted flush at this stage, especially after Lord Edward gave their remaining castles in Brycheiniog to Mortimer. So, we are left in the dark.

There is no reason to think the Waverley annalist invented the battle; he only mentions it in passing, and his very indifference serves as confirmation. Mortimer quickly dusted himself down, and re-appeared a few weeks later in command of part of the royal army at the siege of Kenilworth. Much like a boomerang, the Mortimers always came back.

Y Groes Naid

 

On 25 June 1283, at Rhuddlan, Edward I announced that the sacred relic known as Y Groes Naid (the Cross of Neith) had been recently handed over to him, at Conwy, by Reynold Grey, Justiciar of Chester. Grey had obtained the relic from a group of Welshmen. These were Einion son of Ifor and his three sons, and Gronw son of Dafydd and his four sons.

They had surrendered: '...the most holy wood of the Cross which is called by the Welsh 'Crosseneyht', which Llewelyn son of Griffin, late prince of Wales, and his ancestors, princes of Wales, owned'.

This was supposed to be a portion of the true cross, held inside a reliquary. As a reward, these Welshmen and their heirs were exempted from doing military service for the king outside the Perfeddwlad, unless at their own will, and at the king's cost instead of their own. The handing over of the cross was probably a staged presentation, symbolic of conquest. Einion son of Ifor, the leader of the band of Welshmen, was a former clerk of Prince Llywelyn's. For his action he was rewarded with a robe worth 20 shillings, and sufficient funds to enable him to study at Oxford.

The cross was taken regularly by Edward on his travels. Surviving household accounts show he worshipped before it every day, in his private chapel, and spent lavishly on decoration: for instance, in 1293-4 he spent the considerable sum of £104 on adorning its pedestal with gems set in gold. After the king's death in 1307, an inventory of relics in his chapel included:

'The Cross of Naid embellished with gold and precious stones, together with the foot of that Cross, of gold and gems, in a small leather case the shape of that foot, outside the coffer.'

 In 1352 Edward III gave the relic to the Dean and Chapter of St George's Chapel, Windsor, which the king had established as a major centre of devotion. In 1552 it was confiscated, along with all the other relics and treasures in the chapel, on the orders of Edward VI, to “await the king's further instruction”.

There is a certain irony in a Tudor king, descended of a Welsh lineage, confiscating a relic that had been taken by a Plantagenet conqueror. However, Edward VI was probably acting out of Protestant zealotry rather than thoughts of historical revenge. There are no further references to Y Groes Naid, and it was probably destroyed by Oliver Cromwell (another Welshman in disguise) and his Puritan commandos in the 1640s.

Death from the Waves - special guest post by Gordon Doherty

Around 1200 BC, a great migration of peoples occurred - a shadowy multitude of many different tribes and cultures who roved violently across the near east upon a mighty fleet of bird-prowed ships. The Egyptians - one of the few powers who survived their assaults -  dubbed them as 'the Sea Peoples'.

 A depiction of the Sea Peoples by the inimitable Giuseppe Rava. Here we see 1: a priest; 2. an aristocrat; 3 & 4. warriors of the 'Ekwesh' - one of many tribes amongst the Sea Peoples mass.

Amongst the many Sea Peoples tribes were: The Sherden, The Peleset, The Ekwesh, The Teresh, The Lukka, The Shekelesh, The Meshwesh, The Kariska, The Denyen, The Tjekker, The Weshesh (yes, many of those names sound like they should be pronounced with no teeth in!)

Together, this huge host descended from the north and the west in a series of waves, and proceeded to churn the near east into oblivion. Within a period of forty to fifty years at the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the twelfth century almost every significant city in the eastern Mediterranean world was violently destroyed, many of them never to be occupied again.

The Sea Peoples' path of destruction. They came in two major waves - one naval, one inland.

Read the full article at Gordon’s blog:

https://www.gordondoherty.co.uk/writeblog/death-from-the-waves-the-sea-people