Chapter 8
On 5 January 1066 Edward the Confessor died childless, and the question of the English succession which had for so long loomed over northern Europe immediately entered on its final phase. Nor could there be any doubt that its settlement would involve war, or that in the conflict a crucial part must be played by Duke William whose policy towards England had been so consistently developed during the previous fifteen years. The chief actors in the ensuing drama had in fact already been brought to the forefront of the stage: Earl Harold of Wessex; Harold Hardraada, king of Norway; Tosti, the exiled earl of Northumbria; and Duke William himself. The personal rivalry between these men reflected, moreover, with considerable accuracy, the wider issues of politics which (as has been seen) had been created by the earlier relations between Normandy, Scandinavia, and England. The future of the English monarchy (and its character) was in truth but one of the issues which were at stake. The position of England for the remainder of the Middle Ages in relation to Scandinavia and Latin Europe was also to be determined, and the political and ecclesiastical structure of western Christendom was to be substantially modified. Contemporary observers were fully conscious that a crisis was at hand, and it is little wonder that many were ready to see a portentous significance in the comet which now began to illuminate the skies of western Europe.1
Duke William must have been aware for several weeks that the English king was dying, but even so the immediate challenge which he received must have contained an element of surprise. On the morrow of the Confessor's death – on the very day of his funeral2– Earl Harold Godwineson, having obtained the support of a group of English magnates who were in London,3 had himself crowned as king, as it would seem by Aldred, archbishop of York,4 in the Confessor's new abbey of Saint Peter of Westminster. The indecent haste of these proceedings indicates that the earl's seizure of the throne was premeditated, and that he feared opposition. It is very probable, however, that the Confessor on his death-bed, either of his own free will or under persuasion, had nominated the earl as his successor,5 and the solemn coronation by a metropolitan archbishop might supply a religious sanction to his new dignity. Finally, it might be argued that the perilous circumstances of the time demanded quick action. It was known that a new attack on England from Scandinavia was imminent, and Tosti, the earl's brother, following the precedent set by the family in 1052, might be expected very soon to attempt to return from Flanders by force. In these conditions, strong leadership was demanded, and such leadership could best be found in the earl of Wessex, who was already the most powerful man in England. For these reasons the chief surviving member of the old royal house, Edgar, son of Edward the atheling, who was then a lad, was set aside; and an earl, with no pretensions to royal descent, was allowed to acquire the English throne. It was, in itself, something of a revolution, and the act bore the appearance of a coup d'état executed with extreme speed and great resolution.
Harold Godwineson himself realized that he was staking his fortunes on force. None the less he could plead necessity, and he could command support. A chronicler of the next generation did not hesitate to regard him as, in every way, a legitimate king of England. He had been nominated by Edward the Confessor – wrote ‘Florence of Worcester’6 – he had been chosen by the chief magnates of all England, and he had been ceremoniously hallowed. Moreover, he was to prove a just king, and he was to labour for the defence of his realm. It was a notable tribute made after death to a defeated monarch who had shown himself an outstanding soldier and a brave man. Moreover, it receives some confirmation in the fact that the royal administrative system seems to have continued unimpaired under his direction.7 Nevertheless, there was always something equivocal in Harold Godwineson's position as king. One of the most ancient royal dynasties of Europe had been set aside by a prominent member of a family which in the past had often been ruthless in the pursuit of power, and the act generated resentment in many quarters of England.8 It was not only because of threats from overseas that (as a contemporary observer wrote) Harold ‘met little quiet as long as he ruled the realm’.9
At the opening of his reign, it was even doubtful whether he would secure recognition outside his own earldom of Wessex. Little is known of the composition of the assembly which, in London, on the Confessor's death, acclaimed him as king. The fact that it was so rapidly summoned might suggest that it consisted merely of local personalities hastily collected to give assent to a decision already made by the powerful earl. On the other hand, the illness of the Confessor may have brought to London important men from outside Wessex. How far (as was later asserted)10 any of those present dared to oppose the earl is likewise doubtful: the result could certainly be afterwards paraded as a unanimous acclamation.11 But the acquiescence of many, and especially of Edwin and Morcar, earls respectively of Mercia and Northumbria, must at best have been half-hearted, and disaffection immediately broke out in the northern province.12 In consequence, very early in his reign, Harold moved up to York, and with the aid of Wulfstan, bishop of Worcester, and doubtless also of Aldred the archbishop, he succeeded in stifling the opposition. This, however, could only be regarded as a temporary measure, and in order to retain the allegiance of Edwin and Morcar he consented, probably during the early months of his reign, to marry their sister Edith, the widow of Griffith of Wales.13
A king, so placed, was insecurely poised to withstand the assaults which might at any time be delivered against him by his banished brother, or by the powerful king of Norway. Indeed, if an apologia is to be made for Harold Godwineson, earl of Wessex, who became the last Anglo-Saxon king of England, it should surely be based not on later considerations of national patriotism (to which he was probably a stranger), nor on constitutional arguments (derived from later Whig doctrine) as to the doubtful legality of his royal title, but upon the manner in which a great warrior and a courageous man battled for nine months against adverse circumstances which, to the ultimate benefit of England, at last overwhelmed him.
To Duke William, Harold's seizure of power came as a personal affront as well as a political challenge. He had long recollections of Edward's original bequest of the English crown, and more recent remembrance of Harold's oath and vassalage. His reaction, therefore, to the news from England was swift. A protest was immediately sent to the English court,14 but this was a formality, for the duke realized from the first that his whole political future now depended upon his ability to vindicate his claims by force. The chronology of the duke's acts during the earlier half of 1066 is somewhat confused, but their nature and purpose is clear, as is also the ultimate end to which they were all so steadfastly directed. During this critical interval, Duke William of Normandy secured the support of his vassals. He fostered divisions among his rivals. He successfully appealed to the public opinion of Europe. And he made the preparations essential for equipping the expedition which was, at last, to take him to victory overseas.
One of his first acts after he received the news of Harold's coronation was to take counsel with his magnates, and in particular with that inner circle of the new Norman nobility which had shared in his rise to power. Many of these men appear at first to have been doubtful about the risks of a projected attack on England, and a later tradition asserts that it was William fitz Osbern who persuaded them that the adventure was practicable.15 At all events, a notable unity of purpose was early achieved, and this was deliberately fostered by the duke in a series of assemblies. William of Malmesbury asserts that a great council was held at Lille-bonne, and Wace (though without naming a place) likewise speaks in detail of a large assembly which was brought enthusiastically to support Duke William's designs.16 Again, it appears that when he was supervising the building of his ships on the Dives, the duke took council with some of his magnates at Bonneville-sur-Touques, and the project of the English invasion was certainly discussed in the great concourse of Norman notables, secular and ecclesiastical, who assembled at Caen in June 1066 for the dedication of the abbey of Holy Trinity.17 How many of these assemblies were held, or what was their precise character, cannot be ascertained, but there can be no doubt that during these months the duke lost no opportunity of associating his magnates with his plans, and in view of his earlier struggles to establish his authority, the support which he was able to elicit was wholly remarkable.
Co-operation of this type was essential if the hazardous venture was to be given any chance of success. Even so, it might have seemed dangerous to leave the duchy denuded of its ruler, and of much of its armed strength. Special steps were taken therefore by the duke to provide for the administration of his duchy during his absence. Thus the Duchess Matilda assumed special responsibilities during these critical months,18 in association with her son Robert, who was then some fourteen years of age. Robert had already appeared alongside his mother as witness to ducal charters, and in 1063, when he was less than twelve years old, he is specifically described in an instrument for Saint-Ouen as the heir designate to his parents. In 1066 his position as the future ruler of Normandy thus became crucial when his father was about to set out on an expedition from which he might never return, and it would seem that at home during the spring or summer of that year, Duke William, at one of the assemblies of his magnates, solemnly proclaimed Robert as heir to the duchy, and exacted from the chief men of Normandy an oath of fidelity to his son.19 Robert's special position at this time seems to have been recognized even outside the boundaries of the duchy, for Bartholomew, abbot of Marmoutier, sent one of his monks to Rouen, asking for confirmation of Duke William's gifts to that house, and this was given by Robert, ‘at the request of his father, who was then preparing to cross the sea and to make war against the English’.20
Nevertheless, the duke's own experiences in youth must have made him conscious how inadequate might prove such oaths of fidelity at a time of crisis, and a province notoriously susceptible to anarchy could not be left with confidence to the unaided tutelage of a woman and a boy. Prominent members of the new aristocracy were therefore directly associated with the administration of Normandy during the duke's absence. Chief among these was Roger of Beaumont, already an elderly man, who was to be represented at Hastings by his son Robert, subsequently to become count of Meulan and earl of Leicester.21 With him was Roger of Montgomery, who likewise remained behind in Normandy to assist the duchess.22 Other trusted men were left in their company, among whom was Hugh, son of Richard, the powerful vicomte of the Avranchin, and himself eventually earl of Chester.23 These arrangements, interesting in themselves, are mainly significant as illustrating once again the close association at this time between the Norman aristocracy and the Norman duke. It is in every way notable that no revolt occurred in Normandy during the critical period of the English venture. On the contrary, the bulk of the new Norman nobility were eager to support an extremely hazardous enterprise, and even to stake their personal fortunes on its success.
Nor was the Church in Normandy neglected at this crisis. Perhaps it was natural that Norman prelates should be anxious to obtain confirmations of grants before the duke left his duchy, and doubtless on their part Duke William and his followers wished to settle their relations with Norman religious houses before their departure. At all events, a very interesting group of surviving charters testifies in this respect to the urgency of the situation. Lanfranc was appointed to Saint Stephen's, Caen, in 1063, and on 18 June 1066, the dedication ceremony of Holy Trinity in the same town gave occasion for the ratification of the lavish endowment of Matilda's new foundation.24 About the same time, the duke confirmed Fécamp in possession of land at Steyning in Sussex, the grant to take effect only if God should give him the victory in England.25 In June, also, the rights of the see of Avranches over certain disputed properties were comprehensively ratified by the duke in a notable charter.26 Similar action was also taken by many of the duke's followers, often in his presence, and with the sanction of his court. Thus it was recorded that Roger of Montgomery, with the assent of the duke, had in 1066 given land at Giverville to Holy Trinity, Rouen, at the time when ‘the duke of the Normans set out across the sea with his fleet’.27 Lesser men followed the same example. Roger, son of Turold, ‘being about to set to sea with Duke William’, gave a small estate in Sotteville-lès-Rouen to Holy Trinity, and similar grants were made in the same circumstances by Erchembald, the son of Erchembald the vicomte, and also by ‘a certain knight’, named Osmund de Bodes, who in the event was to perish on the expedition.28 Such charters may reasonably be taken as representative of a larger number of similar instruments which have not survived, and they serve to illustrate from a new angle the temper prevailing in Normandy on the eve of the expedition to England.
Not only with his own duchy was Duke William concerned at this time. He was also at pains to justify his cause before the public conscience of Europe. At some undetermined date within the first eight months of 1066 he appealed to the papacy, and a mission was sent under the leadership of Gilbert, archdeacon of Lisieux, to ask for a judgment in the duke's favour from Alexander II,29 No records of the case as it was heard in Rome have survived, nor is there any evidence that Harold Godwineson was ever summoned to appear in his own defence. On the other hand, the arguments used by the duke's representatives may be confidently surmised. Foremost among them must have been an insistence on Harold's oath, and its violation when the earl seized the throne. Something may also have been alleged against the house of Godwine by reference to the murder of the atheling Alfred in 1036, and to the counter-revolution of 1052. The duke could, moreover, point to the recent and notable revival in the province of Rouen, and claim that he had done much to foster it. For these reasons, the reforming papacy might legitimately look for some advantage in any victory which William might obtain over Harold. Thus was the duke of Normandy enabled to appear as the armed agent of ecclesiastical reform against a prince who through his association with Stigand had identified himself with conditions which were being denounced by the reforming party in the Church. Archdeacon Hildebrand, therefore, came vigorously to the support of Duke William, and Alexander II was led publicly to proclaim his approval of Duke William's enterprise.30
The success of the duke in thus obtaining a formal judgment in his favour from the highest ecclesiastical tribunal in Europe was to entail far-reaching consequences, and its significance is not to be appraised without some reference to a complex of ideas which at this time was beginning to be formed in western Christendom. Duke William's propaganda was, in fact, admirably attuned not only to papal policy but also to sentiments which in the third quarter of the eleventh century were beginning to pervade the self-conscious Norman world. Ever since the battle of Civitate (1053) and the synod of Melfi (1059) the papacy had become increasingly dependent on an alliance with the Normans from which it could not escape, and the Normans on their side had been quick to appreciate the solid advantages they might obtain, say in Spain or Italy or Sicily, by posing as the champions in a holy war. The full implications of these ideas will hereafter be discussed in greater detail, for they helped to mould the character of William's royalty, and the influence which he and his fellow Normans were to exercise on England and on Europe.31 Already in 1066, however, they must have contributed to the outcome of the important negotiations between the pope and the Norman duke. It was by no means out of keeping with the general character of papal and Norman endeavour in this age that, in the event, Duke William was to fight at Hastings under a papal banner, and with consecrated relics round his neck.32 The venture had been made to appear – and in western Europe it was widely regarded – as something in the nature of a crusade.
It was a triumph of diplomacy. The attack upon Harold was never henceforth to be generally considered as a matter of pure aggression, and potential opposition from other European princes was thus to some degree forestalled. The duke, moreover, took other measures to exploit this advantage. The precise relations at this time between Duke William and the young King Philip I of France, who was then under the tutelage of Baldwin V, count of Flanders, are difficult to determine. Later tradition asserted that there was an interview between them, and more nearly contemporary writers suggest that the formal recognition of Robert as the duke's heir was made in the presence of King Philip and with his consent.33 Be this as it may, it is certain that many men from France and Flanders were in due course to join in the English venture. Nor did William refrain from eliciting support, or at least neutrality, from other princes. Envoys were sent to the imperial court; and Henry IV, or the counsellors on whom the young emperor depended, were induced to make some public declaration in favour of the Norman duke.34
As a result, therefore, of papal and imperial approval, and in consequence also of the conditions prevailing in France, Duke William could appeal with some confidence for volunteers from outside his duchy, and that appeal could be made in terms whereby a crude promise of plunder was buttressed by higher considerations of moral right. As will be seen hereafter, the response to that appeal was to be considerable, so that the army which followed the duke across the sea to England was to include numbers of men recruited from outside the Norman duchy. Nor was this all. In consequence of the success of his earlier policy he found himself at this crisis very favourably placed in relation to his more immediate neighbours. Since 1054 Ponthieu had been under his over-lordship.35 Farther to the north-west, Eustace, count of Boulogne, was for the time being disposed to stand by his friend; and his earlier wars had assured him not only of strong support from among the magnates of Brittany, but also of direct assistance from Maine. He was thus singularly well placed for his enterprise, the more especially, as owing to the position he had attained in northern Gaul, he had by 1066 acquired virtual command over every French harbour on the coast stretching from the Couesnon up to the frontier of Flanders.36
Control of these harbours was of the utmost importance for the safety of an invading expedition, but a yet more imperative need was for the construction of ships. A permanent Norman fleet existed as early as the time of Duke Robert I,37 but this must have been of small size, and it was certainly in 1066 quite inadequate to serve for the transport of a large invading force. By the spring of 1066, therefore, active steps were being taken in Normandy for the building of ships,38 and something is known of the methods by which these were produced. The magnates of Normandy were required severally to make contributions of ships, and these were considerable. The testimony as to certain of the quotas individually imposed is late, and not wholly satisfactory, but it is clear that these varied in size and were imposed in manner not unlike that to be later adopted in respect of the servitia debita of the Norman tenants-in-chief in England.39 In their totality they were sufficient to produce a fleet of various types of vessel whose numbers are variously estimated, but which was certainly large.40 Nor is there any reason to doubt the later tradition that the large decorated vessel displayed in the Bayeux Tapestry as carrying the duke to England had been given by his wife Matilda, and was named theMora.41 The construction of these vessels was pushed forward with the utmost speed in the Norman ports. After May the new ships began to be concentrated in the mouth of the river Dives, where the work was continued without interruption. Nevertheless, despite the zeal displayed in the whole undertaking, it is likely that it was not completed much if at all before the beginning of August.42 Even so, it was a remarkable achievement.
Events were in fact already demonstrating to Duke William the necessity of speed. Early in May 1066 Tosti, the brother of Harold Godwineson, who in his exile had taken refuge with his relative the count of Flanders, made his expected attempt to return to England by force. He harried the Isle of Wight, then occupied Sandwich, where he enlisted native seamen in his service, and afterwards with a fleet of sixty ships sailed up the east coast to the mouth of the Humber. While raiding in north Lincolnshire, however, his force was cut to pieces by levies raised by Earl Edwin of Mercia, and many of his surviving followers promptly deserted.43 Tosti thereupon made his way north with a diminished fleet of twelve vessels and took refuge with Malcolm, king of Scotland, with whom he had already entered into a strict alliance.44 His abortive attempt against England is indeed mainly significant for its bearing on the larger question of the English succession which was every day becoming more clearly the major issue of northern European politics. For Tosti had already made contact with Harold Hardraada. Whether he ever went to Norway himself is uncertain, but the Norwegian king had been made so favourable to his cause that seventeen ships came to his aid from the Orkneys which were then under Harold Hardraada's control.45 Duke William had likewise taken an active interest in an expedition which was likely to prove embarrassing to his English opponent. A later tradition asserted that Tosti had actually visited Normandy to seek the duke's assistance,46 and it is probable that at least he received some limited support from the duchy. Certainly Harold Godwineson, reigning precariously as king in England, considered that Tosti's attack was the prelude to a larger invasion from Normandy. He, therefore, moved down to the Isle of Wight and began actively to organize the defence of the south coast against the Norman duke.47
During June, July, and August, Duke William could thus watch the rapid development of the situation. In Norway, Harold Hardraada was already known to be making elaborate preparations for invading England, and he was in touch not only with his own magnates in the Orkneys but also with Tosti who was tarrying expectantly at the court of Malcolm of Scotland. These were formidable threats to the English king, but Harold Godwineson was content to give his primary attention to Normandy. Either because he considered that the Norman attack would come first, or because he wished to reserve his full strength for the defence of his own earldom of Wessex, he concentrated his forces on the south coast. The most effective part of his army was his trained corps of housecarls, but he also called out the local levies of the southern counties, and mustered all the ships at his command.48 It was a large force, and it waited expectantly while William's own preparations were being pushed forward on the other side of the Channel.
William himself was losing no time. His greater vassals were assembling with their own military tenants to form the nucleus of his force, and volunteers were pouring into the duchy from other lands – particularly from Maine, Brittany, and Picardy and Poitou, and probably also from Burgundy, Anjou, and even southern Italy.49 Some of these men may have been moved by the crusading character which propaganda was giving to the enterprise, but more were moved by the prospect of the plunder which would be the reward of its success. Most of them were, however, simple mercenaries.50 William of Poitiers speaks of the gifts by which William purchased their services,51 and the Penitentiary alleged to have been issued in 1070 by Ermenfrid, bishop of Sitten, in respect of the war of 1066 clearly states that among the troops which supported the duke on that occasion were not only the feudal levies but also many who were hired to fight.52 In the spring and early summer of 1066 it was thus William's most urgent task to create a disciplined force out of these miscellaneous contingents and to ensure that they could act in harmony with one another, and with the feudal troops from the duchy. At the same time he forced forward the completion of the ships which were being massed at the mouth of the Dives. By about 12 August53 this fleet was at last ready, and the rivals thus faced each other across the waters of the narrow seas.
The first crucial stage in the ensuing struggle was reached, and passed, on 8 September 1066,54 a date of cardinal importance in the history of the Norman conquest of England. The problem of both commanders, William and Harold Godwineson, was to maintain a large force during the prolonged period of preparation without devastating the countryside on which it was quartered, and it was here that the Norman duke obtained his first success over his English opponent. For a whole month, remarks William of Poitiers, the duke ‘utterly forbade pillage’, and the extent to which his commands were obeyed is a most impressive indication of his personal dominance, and of the disciplined leadership which he was able to exercise of the miscellaneous force which had gathered under his command.
He made generous provision both for his own knights and for those from other parts, but he did not allow any of them to take their sustenance by force. The flocks and herds of the peasantry pastured unharmed throughout the province. The crops waited undisturbed for the sickle without either being trampled by the knights in their pride, or ravaged out of greed by plunderers. A weak and unarmed man might watch the swarm of soldiers without fear, and following his horse singing where he would.55
There is of course an element of exaggeration in this statement, but the event was to show the degree to which it was true. For on the other side of the Channel, Harold was unable to match the achievement. After weeks of waiting, it became clear that he could no longer provision, or hold together, his force. On 8 September, therefore, he was compelled to disband it. The Wessex militia was dismissed, and the king with his housecarls retired to London. The ships were also ordered to repair to the capital, and on the way thither many of them were lost.56 The south coast thus became undefended, and four days later Duke William, eager to seize his opportunity, moved his own fleet from the Dives to the mouth of the Somme in order to take advantage of the shorter sea-crossing. It arrived at Saint-Valery, having sustained some damage in the transit. But it was speedily refitted, and the duke, everything now at last in readiness, only waited for a favourable wind in order to set sail.57
The wind, however, continued to blow from the north, and during the same weeks when it kept William pent in the estuary of the Somme, the situation confronting the duke of Normandy was transformed. Harold Hardraada, finding his own preparations at last complete, now launched his own attack upon England – an expedition comparable to the great Viking invasions of the age of Cnut. It is possible, but improbable, that he went first to the Orkneys to gather fresh reinforcements, but it is certain that while William was still waiting at Saint-Valery, the Norwegian king arrived off the Tyne with no less than three hundred ships.58 At this point (it would seem) he was joined by Tosti with such support as he had been able to collect in Scotland. Tosti became the man of the Norwegian king, and by 18 September the whole expedition had pushed up the mouth of the Humber, and effected a landing at Riccall on the Yorkshire Ouse. They then marched towards York, and at Gate Fulford outside the city they found their way barred by Edwin and Morcar with a large army summoned from Mercia and the north. There on 20 September was fought the first of the three great English battles of 1066. It was a prolonged and very sanguinary engagement, but at its close Harold Hardraada was completely victorious. Over the wrecked army of the earls he advanced to his objective. York welcomed him with enthusiasm, and after making arrangements for the submission of the city, he withdrew his troops towards his ships which were still at Riccall.59
The news must have come to Harold Godwineson in the south as an overwhelming shock. Nevertheless his reaction to the menace was swift. The problem before him was, in fact, clearly posed. Was it possible for him to march north, cope with the Norwegian host, and get back to the south before the wind in the Channel changed sufficiently for Duke William to sail? He attempted the formidable task, and his conduct of the ensuing campaign is a conclusive testimony to his vigour. With a full force, he immediately set out for the north. He can hardly have heard reliable news of the Norwegian attack before Harold Hardraada's landing at Riccall, but four days after the battle of Fulford, forced marches had brought him to Tadcaster. The following day he marched through York and came upon the Norwegian host which had now moved from Riccall to Stamford Bridge on the Derwent.60 He immediately attacked, and before nightfall of 25 September he had gained one of the most complete victories of the Middle Ages.61 Harold Hardraada and Tosti were among the slain, and the shattered remnants of their defeated host retreated to the ships at Riccall. Harold Godwineson had regained control of the north.
The campaign of Stamford Bridge marks Harold Godwineson as a notable commander. Doubtless, the Norwegian host had suffered heavy losses at Fulford, but it was none the less a formidable army under the leadership of one of the most renowned warriors of the age. Moreover, the force at the disposal of Harold Godwineson had itself been hastily collected, and it had fought under the handicap of several days of forced marches. What, however, stamps the campaign as exceptional is the fact that a commander operating from London was able to achieve surprise against a host whose movements since 20 September had been confined within twenty-five miles of York. The Norwegian king, it is true, had after Fulford been engaged in arranging for the submission of York, in withdrawing his victorious troops to Riccall and then bringing them up again to the road junction at Stamford Bridge, which he probably did not reach until the 24th. Even so, the achievement of Harold Godwineson in coming upon him unawares with an army hastily brought up from the south is very notable. His success was as deserved as it was complete, but it was yet to be seen whether it would be possible for him, after his victory, to return to the south in time to oppose the impending landing of the duke of Normandy.
The uncertain factor was the Channel wind. Duke William was himself fully conscious of this, and contemporary writers describe his supplications for a change in the weather, and picture him during these fateful days as constantly gazing towards the vane on the church tower of Saint-Valery.62 The event was to justify his concern. Two days after Stamford Bridge, while Harold was resting his tired troops at York a favourable wind began at last to blow in the Channel. The haste with which the duke immediately started to embark his troops is graphically displayed in the Bayeux Tapestry,63 and at nightfall on 27 September the fleet put to sea led by the duke's own galley which carried a lantern at its mast-head.64 In mid-Channel this ship lost touch with the others, and the duke was faced with yet another personal crisis in his adventurous life. He quelled the incipient panic among his crew by supping at leisure and in good spirit ‘as if he were in a room of his house at home’,65 and after an interval the remainder of the fleet appeared. The rest of the voyage was accomplished without incident, and early oh the morning of 28 September the duke with his troops landed almost unopposed at Pevensey, thus completing what, judged by results, must be regarded as one of the most important amphibious operations in the history of war.
It had been achieved partly by good fortune, for it was clearly to the duke's advantage that Harold Godwineson should have been engaged in the north of England during these critical days. Nevertheless, the transit could never have been effected if the duke had not possessed for at least a number of hours the command of the narrow seas, and his initial success must thus be related both to the progressive reductions in the English royal navy which had taken place in 1049 and 1050,66 and also to the control which he had obtained of the ports on the south side of the Channel. Even so, the full result would not have been attained had not Duke William been able to keep his force in readiness on his side of the Channel longer than did Harold on the south coast of England. If William was enabled to cross the narrow seas unopposed on the night of 27–28 September, and to land in the morning on an undefended shore, this was due in large measure to the fact that on 8 September Harold Godwineson had been compelled to disperse his militia, and to send his own ships on their unfortunate voyage to London. Finally, it must be noted that in sailing when he did, without further delay, Duke William boldly seized a hazardous opportunity. For when he sailed from Saint-Valery at nightfall on 27 September he could hardly have known the result of Stamford Bridge, which was not decided until the evening of 25 September. In other words, when he put to sea on his great adventure, he probably did not know which of the two Harolds would eventually oppose him: the king of Norway, backed by a Scandinavian host with its supporters from the north of England, or Harold Godwineson at the head of troops recruited mainly from Wessex.
He had put his fortunes to the supreme hazard, and in the meantime he must take steps to safeguard his force during the precarious days following his landing in a hostile country. He hastily constructed an inner rampart within the old Roman fort of Pevensey,67and then he sought to take advantage of the configuration of the neighbouring coastline which was then different from what it is today.68 It was essential that he should keep in touch with his ships until he fought the decisive battle, and Hastings he knew to be a considerable port which could provide him with a suitable harbour. Moreover, Hastings was then at the base of a little peninsula which could be defended by a covering action if it became necessary for him to re-embark his force. To the east and west it was protected by the shallow estuaries of the Brede and Bulverhythe which are now dry land, and it was guarded on the north by the resulting isthmus that was dominated by the heights around Telham Hill. Beyond stretched the thickly wooded country of the weald through which troops could only proceed with some difficulty. To Hastings, therefore, Duke William took both his troops and his ships. Within the town he erected a fortification, and there he awaited the outcome of his venture, ravaging the surrounding country in order, if possible, to stimulate his opponent to attack before his own resources were too seriously wasted.69
The plan was well conceived, but for its ultimate success the duke was much indebted to the impetuosity of his opponent.70 Harold's movements at his time are very difficult to elucidate with certainty.71 It is usually believed that he was at York when he first heard of William's landing, but it is not impossible that when the news reached him he was already on his way to the south. At all events, he seems to have reached London on, or about, 6 October. He tarried for some days, waiting for the reinforcements which he had summoned, and then on 11 October, accompanied by a force consisting largely of foot-soldiers, he moved southward to Hastings. His courageous response to the Norman challenge must command respect, and it was undoubtedly stimulated (as William had hoped) by a desire to stop the devastation of his earldom. But there is little doubt that his actions were here unwise. He had taken to the north a large part of the armed forces immediately available to him,72 but such had been the speed on his return south that he had been compelled to leave behind him much of his infantry, and many of his archers. Nor was his pause in London long enough for these to be adequately replaced. Further delay would certainly have served his purpose, for William had everything to lose by procrastination, and Harold would have gained by it. Instead, he resolved on an immediate offensive, and by inviting an early engagement with depleted resources he played into the hands of his opponent.
He evidently wished to repeat the strategy he had employed with such success at Stamford Bridge, namely to take William by surprise and, if possible, by this means to cut him off from his ships. But his march over the fifty-eight miles which separate London from the Sussex Downs again imposed too heavy a strain upon his foot-soldiers. He seems to have reached the Downs during the night of 13–14 October,73 and in the darkness to have taken up his position near the modern town of Battle. His troops were evidently in a state of great exhaustion, and in sore need of rest. When the news came to William, he realized that he had been given his great opportunity, and he was quick to seize it. He left Hastings very early in the morning of 14 October,74 and when he reached the summit of Telham Hill he was made aware that Harold was established on the neighbouring summit. It was now 9 am,75 and he immediately advanced across the intervening valley to attack.76 He had been given the early battle he desired. And, in the event, it was he and not Harold who achieved surprise. William came upon Harold ‘by surprise’ says the Anglo-Saxon chronicler, and ‘before his army was drawn up in battle array’.77
This achievement was, indeed, to be so crucial in determining the issue that it calls for some comment. It can in part be explained by assuming that Harold's force only reached the scene of battle very late in the darkness of 13 October or perhaps even during the small hours of the following morning,78 and that his tired troops, some of whom may have arrived later than their leader, rested overlong after their forced march:79 otherwise it is hard to understand why they were only being arranged in battle order as late as 9 am. The implications of the situation, however, stretched wider. It is improbable that when Harold left London he ever contemplated fighting a defensive battle at all. He had little to gain thereby, for even if, in such an engagement, he had been granted any success that was not total, he might still not have been able to prevent William from re-embarking. It is of course easy to criticize a man who was acting under terrible stress after conducting a campaign at the other end of England, and it is also true that the English losses both at Fulford and at Stamford Bridge had been heavy. Nevertheless, Harold still possessed reserves that were denied to his opponent,80 and his best chance of success would surely have been to wait until he could attack with overwhelming force an enemy who was operating in alien territory. As it was, he was compelled with depleted resources to fight an early defensive battle against an enemy who could not afford delay. He had been out-generalled.
None the less, he was tactically well placed to conduct the defensive action which had been forced upon him. The size of the army under his command has been very variously estimated, but it probably numbered some 7,000 men.81 Many of these, however, were inadequately equipped, and his real strength lay in the well-armed housecarls, professional warriors of high repute, who had followed Harold and his brothers, Leofwine and Gyrth, to Sussex. Whether all, or some, of these had fought on horseback at Stamford Bridge has been disputed, but now the situation was different. The infantry and archers whom Harold had commanded when on 25 September he had defeated one of the greatest warriors of the age, had for the most part been left behind in the north, and now it was abundantly necessary that the hastily summoned levies who had replaced them should be stiffened by seasoned troops. The housecarls were, therefore, dismounted, and took their place on the hill, supplied with javelins which they could hurl, and armed with the traditional weapon of the battle-axe.82 Such was the force that Harold had with him on his commanding summit. Its exact disposition has been much debated.83 Tradition states that he placed his two standards – the Dragon of Wessex and his personal banner of the Fighting Man – on the spot later occupied by the high altar of Battle Abbey, and it is reasonable to suppose that his front extended some 300 yards to the east and west of this, where in each case the ground begins to fall sharply.84 In this restricted area on the summit, his army was grouped in very close formation, and it was protected in front and on the flanks by the shields of the housecarls.85 Such a force, so placed, would evidently be very difficult to dislodge. And it blocked the road to London.
It was, thus, against a strong position, formidably defended, that William advanced.86 His army was probably slightly less numerous than that of Harold, but it contained a higher proportion of professional warriors, and a much larger contingent of archers. It moved forward in three main groups. On the left were the Breton auxiliaries, perhaps under Count Brian. On the right was a more miscellaneous body in which was found Robert of Beaumont and doubtless many knights from the Beaumont manors on the Risle. In the centre was the main Norman contingent with Duke William himself, relics round his neck, and the papal banner above his head.87 Thus they moved forward and in regular formation. In the van were lightly armed foot-soldiers with slings and spears, and possibly the archers. Then followed other infantry more heavily armed. Finally came the squadrons of mounted knights equipped with hauberks and helmets, and with swords or javelins.88
The battle89 began when William's light armed infantry came within range of the defenders on the hill. They discharged their own missiles and received in return a hail of weapons of all kinds: javelins, hatchets, and stones fastened to pieces of wood. Thus assailed, the attack began to waver, for the English had the advantage of the ground, and if William's archers were now employed, their arrows shot from below must either have struck the shields of the housecarls or passed over their heads. Duke William, therefore, sent in his knights in the hope of giving his mounted men the opportunity to use their swords. Fierce hand-to-hand fighting ensued, consisting mainly of single combats, and it was perhaps at this stage of the battle that Harold's brothers, Gyrth and Leofwine, were killed. But at length it became apparent that the attack had failed in its objective, which was to break the line of Harold's force. William's advancing infantry had been halted, and now his horsemen wavered, and were, at last, turned down the hill in such confusion that their retreat took on the character of a disordered flight.90
It was the crisis of the battle, for it would seem that Duke William's army was to some extent demoralized. One picture in the Bayeux Tapestry shows Bishop Odo attempting to rally the fleeing horsemen, and a rumour spread that Duke William himself had been killed.91 Here perhaps was Harold's last opportunity. For if he had ordered a general advance, and had been able to control it, he might well have put the disorganized enemy to flight.92 In the event, however, he neither ordered such a general advance, nor could he enforce the discipline necessary for a continued defensive action. Many of his men, thinking victory had been achieved, abandoned the main body on the hill, and started in pursuit. It was a fatal move, since the mounted knights could take advantage of their superior mobility against the isolated groups which pursued them. They wheeled, and cut them to pieces.93 So successful, indeed, was this manœuvre that on at least two subsequent occasions it would seem that it was repeated, when the knights by means of feigned flights enticed groups of the defenders from the hill in order to destroy them.94
In any case, the attackers had been given an opportunity to recover. Duke William doffed his helmet, and having displayed himself to his men as still alive he succeeded in restoring order among them. The issue was, none the less, still in doubt. Harold's position had been weakened, but it was still strong, and both sides were becoming exhausted. It was at this juncture, apparently, that William introduced a new element into his conduct of the battle. Hitherto the attacks of his horsemen and his footmen had been uncoordinated: now they were to be combined. William, it is said, ordered his archers to shoot from a distance high into the air so that their arrows might fall on the heads of the defenders, and at the same time he sent his weary horsemen once again up the hill for yet another attack.95 This time they were successful. It was perhaps now that Harold himself was killed,96 and now the defenders were overwhelmed, and the hill position taken. A group of housecarls managed to rally for a while at a spot unsuitable for cavalry in the rear of the main position, and to inflict damage on their pursuers.97 But there could no longer be any doubt of the outcome. The flight became general and soon turned into a slaughter, until at last, as darkness was beginning to fall, the duke called off the pursuit and brought his force back to the hill itself. He encamped for the night amid the carnage.98
The battle of Hastings has been described as ‘a victory over infantry won by cavalry supported by the long-range weapon of the archers’.99 The judgment seems substantially true, but it needs qualification. It should not be taken, for instance, as implying that Harold could at no time in his reign have put armed horsemen into the field, or that if he had moved with less precipitation from the north he might not have had more archers under his command at Hastings. Again, Hastings cannot be considered a typical engagement between cavalry and infantry.100 There is no suggestion in the evidence of what can be called the ‘classic’ use of cavalry – that is to say a massed charge of heavily armed horsemen, riding knee-to-knee, using their mounts to overwhelm their opponents, and then attacking with lances and swords. Nor is there any indication of the most effective reply by infantry to such an assault: namely a firm stand in concentrated mass, with a hedge of protecting spears so disposed as to make the horses ‘refuse’. On the contrary, at the beginning of the action, both sides seem to have made abundant use of missile weapons which are not naturally to be associated either with attacking cavalry or with defending infantry. The housecarls had their bundles of javelins, and many of the knights were as much concerned to hurl their spears (as javelins) as to strike with them (in true cavalry fashion) as lances.
Nevertheless, though William relied much on mercenaries, it was the Norman knights who, together with the archers, were chiefly responsible for the victory, and their achievement was directly due to the fact that, however rudimentary their knowledge of cavalry tactics as later developed, they were in truth professional warriors trained to fight on horseback. So important were their mounts to their efficiency that these were brought over with them in the little ships.101 Indeed this transportation of horses deserves note as a factor in the campaign. The Viking ancestors of the Normans had used horses in their raids, but in general they had relied upon finding them in the countries which they invaded. Nor apparently was there any horse transportation in earlier Viking expeditions against the English coast. On the other hand, the presence of horses in the boats which crossed the Channel in 1066 is given great emphasis in the Bayeux Tapestry, as a characteristic feature of the voyage. But the transport of horses in small ships presents great difficulties; it is an art which needs to be learnt. Consequently it is significant that such transportation had been successfully employed in 1060–1061, by the Normans in Sicily, perhaps as a result of Byzantine instruction, for the carrying of horses by sea, had from an early date been a feature of the strategy of the eastern empire.102 It is very possible, therefore, that Duke William in 1066 was here deliberately using knowledge recently gained by his compatriots in the Mediterranean, and this in turn may even have been translated into practice by those knights from Apulia and Sicily who accompanied his expedition.
Certainly, the duke placed special reliance upon his mounted men, and in the decisive battle at Hastings these in turn undoubtedly relied to some extent upon the force of their charge. Nor can it be doubted that these men were (in the true manner of cavalry) accustomed to act in concert.103 They were the companions, and the followers, of the new aristocracy whose recent rise to power was a mark of the duchy from which they came. Many of the greatest figures of that nobility – such as Robert, count of Eu, Hugh of Montfort-sur-Risle, William of Warenne and Robert of Beaumont – are specifically recorded as having been present at Hastings,104 and it is known that they brought their own knights with them. Each of these groups must have been conscious of its unity, being composed of men who were already associated as members of an honour, as suitors to the court of the same lord, and as wont to fight in company under his leadership. Perhaps it was the cohesion which this implied that enabled the knights to sustain their protracted effort at Hastings during those long and adverse hours when the issue hung in the balance. More particularly did it contribute to the ultimate victory. A feigned flight is one of the most hazardous movements to carry out at the height of an engagement, for simulated panic is very liable to be transformed into a reality of confusion. Yet if the earliest account of the battle is to be believed this perilous device was repeatedly and successfully used. It could never have been conducted with troops who were not acting in concert, and to some extent under discipline.
Discipline, however, in the last resort, depends upon ultimate command, and the more the battle of Hastings is contemplated, the more clearly appears the personal contribution of Duke William to the final result. The quality of his leadership had indeed been displayed from the start of the war. The restraint which he imposed on his troops during the long period of waiting in Normandy enabled him to keep his force in being after Harold had been compelled to disband the fyrd, and to disperse his ships; and this in turn had made possible the duke's successful passage across the Channel some weeks later. In the meantime, the duke had transformed a collection of miscellaneous contingents into an army, so that he was able to seize the opportunity afforded him by the change in the wind on 27 September. Between 28 September and 13 October he once again showed himself superior to his opponent whom he successfully provoked (with the minimum of risk to himself) to the early engagement that was essential to his survival. Lastly, in the deciding battle, which he started with the advantage of surprise, the final result (so long in doubt) was first indicated when Harold failed to impose on his troops the discipline which might have turned an initial success into a victory, whilst William was able to rally his forces after their first reverse. When full recognition has been given to the good fortune which attended him, and when all deductions have been made for the exaggerations of panegyrists, who, like William of Poitiers, are ever ready to gild the laurels of victorious commanders, there can be no doubt that Duke William, by his ability, and through his personality, dominated the battlefield of Hastings, and the campaign of which it was the climax. When on the evening of 14 October he rested on the site of his victory, he was at the peak of his career. Outstanding intelligence had brought him from obscurity to be the central figure in a crisis of European history: will and tenacity, which had for so long been his companions, had enabled his cause to survive in the culminating conflict.
After his victory the duke returned to Hastings to rest his troops, and to allow time for offers of submission to come in. But no such overtures were made. Edwin and Morcar were in the capital, and steps were taken by them, by Stigand, and even by Aldred, archbishop of York, with a view to recognizing Edgar Atheling as king.105 But the northern earls were clearly not enthusiastic over the project, which was also opposed by some of the bishops.106 Indeed, it was not long before Edwin and Morcar withdrew to their own earldoms, leaving the south to solve its own problems.107 Once again the political disunion of England became apparent, and after five days Duke William thought it prudent to move. His progress was marked by that blend of ruthlessness and conciliation which had already served him so well in France. Thus an attack on one of his contingents was punished by savage retaliation against Romney, and this severity induced Dover to submit without resistance. From Dover the duke advanced towards Canterbury, and before he reached its gates he was offered the submission of the city.108 All this apparently took place before the end of October, but then the Norman progress was stayed. Five weeks' hazardous sojourn in a hostile country made it extremely difficult to feed the troops, and it is not surprising that widespread dysentery now assailed them. William himself was stricken, and he was compelled to delay for the space of nearly a month in the neighbourhood of Canterbury.109 This pause was not, however, without advantage. The full significance of the Hastings battle was becoming more generally appreciated, and the Kentish regions, one after another, began to surrender. Soon, too, a yet more notable success was achieved. Winchester, the ancient capital of the West Saxon kings was at this time held in dower by Edith the widow of the Confessor, and now, perhaps in response to a formal demand from the duke, she offered to William the submission of the city.110 As November drew to its close, therefore, Duke William could regard himself as master in south-eastern England. Sussex, Kent, and part of Hampshire were under his control. But the attitude of the north was still uncertain, and London lay enigmatic and formidable across his path.
The key to William's success in the campaign of the autumn of 1066 is to be found in his appreciation of the strategic importance of London. London dominated the communications of the country inasmuch as it was the nodal point at which the Roman roads from Yorkshire, the Midlands, and East Anglia converged to cross the Thames and link up with the roads that gave access to the Channel ports that were in turn essential to William's own contact with his duchy. Yet at the same time London was too large both in area and population for William to contemplate its capture by direct assault with the force that he had at his command. He therefore determined to isolate the capital. He moved up to the south end of London Bridge, where he beat off a body of Edgar Atheling's troops which sallied out to attack him. Then having fired Southwark, he moved westward, devastating northern Hampshire and passing on into Berkshire. Turning north, he then made the crossing of the Thames at Wallingford and thence, in his circuitous movement, he at last came to Berkhampstead.111 It was a brutal march, but William's military objective had been gained. The capital had been isolated, and the results were immediately to be disclosed.
Already, while William was at Wallingford, Stigand came out from the city to transfer his allegiance to the duke,112 and then at Berkham-stead: ‘[William] was met by Archbishop Aldred, and the Atheling Edgar and Earl Edwin and Earl Morcar, and all the chief men of London. And they submitted after most damage had been done … and they gave hostages, and he promised that he would be a gracious liege lord.’113 It was a formal recognition by the chief men of England, and all that remained necessary was for the Norman magnates in their turn to acquiesce in William's assuming the royal title. This recognition too was given after an interval, and thus it was that William was at last enabled, with the support of leading men of England and Normandy, to make a direct advance upon London. Whether any further resistance was offered by the city is uncertain.114 In any case, no opposition could any longer stand a chance of success, and a few days before Christmas William entered his new capital.
Arrangements were immediately made for his coronation. And at length on Christmas Day 1066 William, duke of Normandy, was hallowed as king of the English in the Confessor's abbey of Westminster according to the ancient English rite, the unction being performed by Aldred, archbishop of York, in place of the schismatic Stigand. As an innovation, however, the new king was presented to the people by Archbishop Aldred, speaking in English, and by Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances, speaking in French. And this provoked a mishap, for the mercenary troops who were guarding the minster, misunderstanding the shouts which marked the acclamation, and thinking a riot was starting, began to set fire to the neighbouring houses.115 It was indeed a portentous event, and for a time it caused alarm and confusion within the abbey itself. Nothing, however, could impair the legal consequence of what had taken place. Duke William of Normandy was now king of the English.
The full significance of William's coronation will be discussed hereafter.116 At once it enabled him to assume all the rights and responsibilities of an Old English king, to employ the service of those local officials who were in office, and, though he was as yet in possession of only a portion of the country, to proclaim the king's peace over all England. Much remained, however, to be done before such claims could be translated in practice, and for the moment the military situation demanded the first attention of the new king. He forthwith began to construct the fortress which later became the Tower of London in order to control the capital, and himself moved out with his force to Barking, thus completing the encirclement of the metropolis.117 At Barking, too, he summoned a further concourse of English magnates from whom he demanded submission and recognition, and to whom in return he gave a fresh pledge of good government. It was the logical termination of the campaign which had started some four months earlier when he had set sail, with so much in doubt, from Saint-Valery.
The success of that campaign which had been spectacularly demonstrated in the coronation was such that by the beginning of March, within three months of his crowning, William felt it safe to return to Normandy, leaving England in the charge of trusted Norman magnates. William fitz Osbern, his steward, was established at Norwich, or perhaps at Winchester, whilst Odo, bishop of Bayeux, the king's half-brother, was entrusted, in particular, with the castle of Dover and the region of Kent.118 With them also were Hugh of Grandmesnil from the neighbourhood of Lisieux, and Hugh of Montfort-sur-Risle.119 Having made these arrangements, the king set off towards the south, and he took with him as hostages a large group of the most important men of England, particularly those who had been among his former opponents. The procession which moved towards the Sussex coast from London, and on past the Downs where the great battle had so recently taken place, included not only the new king's personal entourage, but also Edgar the atheling, the Earls Edwin and Morcar, Waltheof, and Archbishop Stigand.120 In the king's absence there was to remain in England no obvious leader who could serve as the rallying point of a revolt.
It was in the nature of a triumphal progress, and so it was made to appear. The port appropriately chosen for embarkation was Pevensey, and white sails were fitted to the ships in token of victory and peace. Thus across a calm sea did the new king pass over to his native duchy. The occasion was indeed exactly calculated to fire the Norman imagination. The curious and detailed comparison made by William of Poitiers between the English invasions of William and of Julius Caesar illustrates the kind of impression which might be created in the mind of a man of letters living in Normandy. But less sophisticated individuals had other, and more convincing proofs, of what had been achieved. They could see displayed the treasure in money and in kind which had been brought from England as spoils of victory, and they could watch in the new king's court prominent and powerful men who had recently resisted him. Small wonder that the victorious ruler of Normandy was, on his return, hailed with enthusiastic acclamation, or that the inhabitants of Rouen swarmed out to meet him as he approached. Some of the older among them could recall how sixteen years before he had regained his capital after a long war in which he had barely survived, and in the interval an astonishing transformation had occurred. Only seven months ago Michaelmas had been commemorated in the Rouen churches while the issue of the English enterprise still hung in the balance. Now it was Lent. But a great kingdom had been added to the Norman dominion; and it seemed fitting that preparations should immediately be begun for the celebration of Easter.121
Nor was it entirely out of keeping either with the occasion, or with earlier Norman policy, that very much of William's victorious progress through Normandy at this time should have been directed towards the Norman churches. The new king kept Easter 1067 at the ducal monastery of Fécamp, and at the feast the full pageantry of the Conquest was displayed. The court was splendid. It was attended by a very large assemblage of Norman magnates, both lay and ecclesiastical, and also by visiting notables from France such as Ralph of Mondidier, the step-father of the young king of France. A great gathering admired the stature and bearing of the English nobles who were in gilded captivity, and the spectators were astonished at the richness of the gold and silver vessels, the treasures of metalwork and embroidery which had been brought to adorn the banquets.122 It was perhaps the climax of the Norman celebration of victory, and it was marked of course by lavish gifts to the monastery itself, for Fécamp had for long been specially interested in the English venture by reason of the possessions it had already acquired in Sussex, and these were doubtless now confirmed. Nor was this the only Norman monastery which was enriched. The chroniclers insist that the royal gifts were lavish and widespread, and some illustration of this largess is to be found in the charters of Holy Trinity, Rouen.123 By 1 May, William moved on to Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives near to where he had waited through so many anxious weeks during the previous autumn. There the abbey of Saint Mary had been founded by the Countess Lesceline of Eu, whose son, Count Robert, had fought at Hastings, and now the church was formally consecrated.124 Then the king continued his progress. Towards the end of June he reached Jumièges, where he was met by Maurilius, the aged metropolitan of Rouen, who arrived in time to perform the last public act of his own distinguished career. On 1 July, in the presence of a large company, including the bishops of Lisieux, Avranches, and Évreux, Maurilius solemnly hallowed the abbey-church which had been begun more than twenty years before by Abbot Robert, later archbishop of Canterbury.125 The king also took part in the ceremony, and it was about this time that by royal charter he gave Hayling Island to the great Norman monastery.126
Little further is known about William's acts in his duchy during these months of festival, though he was at this time to sponsor two important ecclesiastical appointments, the one to the metropolitan see of Rouen, and the other to the bishopric of Avranches.127But enough testimony has survived to indicate the manner in which his victory was received in Normandy, and how the duchy appears to have been conscious of having been brought to the zenith of its achievement by the greatest of its dukes. There may well be truth, as well as admiration, in the assertion of the chroniclers that during this time William was particularly zealous in the proclamation of law, and the maintenance of order,128 for he too had reached a new peak of authority, and, in the plenitude of royalty, he was faced with new opportunities and new obligations. Amid the acclaim of Rouen, and the splendour of the Fécamp feast, during the celebrations on the Dives and at Jumièges, William must surely often have reflected on the astonishing career which had brought him to this pinnacle of power. But he must at the same time have been acutely conscious that the very magnitude of his achievement now confronted him with new and intractable problems. The Anglo-Norman kingdom had been established. But it was still uncertain whether it could endure.
1 ‘When beggars die there are no comets seen.’ The comet of 1066 (apparently ‘Halley's comet’) is mentioned with emphasis in Will. Jum. (p. 133) and is shown engagingly in the Bayeux Tapestry (plate XXXV; E.H.D., vol. II, p. 255). The AS. Chron. (‘C’, s.a. 1066) says it first appeared on 24 April, and this is confirmed by R.A.D.N. (no. 299). To it Freeman devoted one of his most fascinating appendixes (Norman Conquest, vol. III, note M), and collected references to it from as far apart as Anjou and Poland. What is chiefly remarkable about the more distant references is the frequency with which they connect the comet with the English crisis.
2 Will. Poit., p. 146.
3 Flor. Worc., vol. I, p. 226; Will. Malms., Gesta Regum, p. 280.
4 Flor. Worc. (vol. I, p. 224) declares that Harold was crowned by Aldred, and this was probably the case. But Will. Poit. (p. 146) and Ord. Vit. (vol. II, p. 219; vol. IV, p. 432) state that Harold was crowned by Stigand. The Bayeux Tapestry (plate XXXIV; E.H.D., vol. II, p. 255) shows Stigand performing an act evidently not unconnected with Harold's accession as king. Perhaps therefore the matter should not be regarded as finally settled.
5 AS. Chron., ‘C’, ‘D’, s.a. 1065; ‘E’, s.a. 1066. But was undue pressure used by the group depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry as surrounding the dying king (plate XXXIII; E.H.D., vol. II, p. 254)? Some support for this suspicion is given by the Vita Edwardi (ed. F. Barlow, pp. LXXIV, 77), which hints that Edward's intelligence was then impaired, and which indicates that at the last the king was ‘broken with age and knew not what he said’.
6 Flor. Worc., vol. I, p. 224.
7 Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 573, 574.
8 Will. Malms., Gesta Regum, p. 280.
9 AS. Chron., ‘C’, s.a. 1065.
10 Will. Malms., op. cit., p. 297.
11 Flor. Worc, loc. cit.
12 Will. Malms., Vita Wulstani (ed. Darlington), p. 22.
13 Stenton, op. cit., p. 523.
14 Will. Jum., p. 133.
15 Will. Poit., p. 149; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 122; Wace, Roman de Rou, vol. II, pp. 270–275.
16 Will. Poit., p. 149; Will. Malms., Gesta Regum, p. 299.
17 R.A.D.N., no. 231; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 125.
18 Will. Poit., p. 260.
19 R.A.D.N., nos. 158, 213; David, Robert Curthose. p. 12.
20 R.A.D.N., no. 288.
21 Will. Poit., pp. 193, 260.
22 Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 178. In view of the author's connexions with the family, this is decisive against other evidence.
23 A Whitby tradition (Mon. Ang., vol. I, p. 149) asserts that Hugh of Avranches and William de Percy arrived in this country in 1067.
24 Macdonald, Lanfranc, p. 56. Lanfranc was probably appointed to Saint Stephen's, Caen, in 1063. The gifts to Holy Trinity, Caen, were made in 1066 and are recorded in R.A.D.N. no. 231.
25 Regesta, vol. I, no. 1.
26 R.A.D.N., no. 229.
27 Cart. S. Trin. Roth., no. XXXIX.
28 Ibid., nos. XLVII, LVII, LXIII.
29 Will. Poit., p. 152; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 122.
30 Jaffé, Monumenta Gregoriana, pp. 414–416.
31 Below, pp. 247–264.
32 Will. Poit., pp. 155, 185.
33 David, Robert Curthose, p. 12.
34 Stenton, op. cit., p. 578.
35 Ord. Vit., vol. I, p. 184; vol. III, pp. 237, 238.
36 Stenton, op. cit., p. 577.
37 Will. Jum., p. 109.
38 Will. Poit., p. 190; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 134; Bayeux Tapestry, plates XXXVII, XXXVIII (E.H.D., vol. II, p. 257).
39 The curious text given in Giles, Scriptores Willelmi (pp. 21, 22), presents many difficulties, but it may probably be generally relied upon. Cf. Hardy, Catalogue of Materials, vol. II, p. 1.
40 The list of quotas adds up, it seems, to about 777, but the same record gives the total size of the fleet as 1,000 ships. Will. Jum. (p. 134) mentions the figure 3,000. Much exaggeration may here be suspected, but some of the divergence could be due to the extent to which many very small craft were counted.
41 Giles, op. cit.; Bayeux Tapestry, plate XLIII (E.H.D., vol. II, p. 260).
42 For the dates on the events in 1066, see below, Appendix D.
43 AS. Chron., ‘C’, s.a. 1066; Stenton, op. cit., p. 578.
44 Ibid. Cf. Simeon of Durham (Opera, vol. II, p. 174).
45 Gaimar (Michel, Chroniques, vol. I, pp. 2, 3).
46 Ord. Vit., interp. Will. Jum., p. 192.
47 AS. Chron., loc. cit.
48 Ibid.
49 Carmen, vv. 252–260; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 125; Will. Poit., pp. 197, 219. Poitou was represented by Aimeri, vicomte of Thouars, for whom see H. Imbert, Hist. de Thouars (Niort, 1871). He was to play an important part in the subsequent events.
50 J. O. Prestwich, in R. Hist. Soc., Transactions, series 5, vol. IV, p. 24.
51 Will. Poit., p. 150.
52 Bessin, Concilia, pp. 50, 51. I am encouraged by the remarks of F. M. Stenton (op. cit., p. 653) to take this text at its face value. None the less it presents some perplexing features.
53 Below, Appendix D.
54 AS. Chron, ‘C’, s.a. 1066.
55 Will. Poit., p. 152.
56 AS. Chron., loc. cit.
57 Will. Poit., p. 160.
58 Freeman, Norman Conquest, vol. III, p. 344; Stenton, op. cit., p. 580.
59 Freeman, op. cit., p. 711; Stenton, op. cit., p. 581.
60 AS. Chron., loc. cit.
61 A biography of William the Conqueror need not enter into the controversies respecting the campaign of Stamford Bridge. A good account of the battle is given in F. W. Brooks, The Battle of Stamford Bridge (East Yorks. Local Hist. Soc., 1956).
62 Will. Poit., p. 160; Carmen, VV. 50–75.
63 Plates XXXVIII–XLII (E.H.D., vol. II, pp. 258, 259).
64 Will. Poit., p. 164; Bayeux Tapestry, plate XLIII (E.H.D., vol. II, p. 260).
65 Will. Poit., p. 165.
66 AS. Chron., ‘C’, s.a. 1049, 1050.
67 Will. Poit., p. 168.
68 Cf. J. A. Williamson, Evolution of England, pp. 69–72.
69 Will. Poit., p. 168.
70 The battle of Hastings, and the campaign of which it was the climax, have been exhaustively discussed by modern historians, and with much disagreement. Freeman devoted a great part of his third volume to the theme, and the criticisms levelled at his descriptions by J. H. Round would fill a small book. Here I have used with gratitude: W. Spatz,Die Schlacht von Hastings (1896); Stenton, op. cit., pp. 584–588; and a stimulating article by R. Glover, ‘English Warfare in 1066’ (Eng. Hist. Rev., vol. LXVII (1952), pp. 1–18). Reference may also be made to A. H. Burne, Battlefields of England, pp. 19–45. I have been particularly indebted to J. F. C. Fuller, Decisive Battles of the Western World, vol. I, pp. 360–385.
71 Below, Appendix D.
72 AS. Chron., ‘C’, s.a. 1066.
73 Below, Appendix D.
74 About 6 am, says Colonel Burne. General Fuller (op. cit., p. 377) thinks that the start must have been between 4.30 and 5 am to allow for assembly, the six-mile march, and the deployment.
75 Flor. Worc., vol. I, p. 227.
76 Will. Poit., p. 185.
77 AS. Chron., ‘D’, s.a. 1066.
78 Will. Jum. (p. 134) says Harold rode all night and arrived at the battlefield very early in the morning.
79 The famous story later told by Will. Malms. (Gesta Regum, p. 302) that the English spent the night of 13–14 October in feasting and the Normans in prayer may without undue misgivings be dismissed as propaganda. The English had no opportunity for such junketings, and the Normans were probably preparing for the engagement. In view of the self-styled crusading character which had been given to the expedition it is not impossible that William heard Mass before setting out.
80 Flor. Worc. (vol. I, p. 227) states that Harold left London before half his army was assembled (cf. Stenton, op. cit., p. 584).
81 I here follow Spatz (op. cit., p. 33). General Fuller (op. cit., p. 376) makes the interesting calculation that ‘if Harold drew up his army in a phalanx of ten ranks deep to allow two feet frontage for each man in the first rank – the shield wall – and three feet frontage for those in the nine rear ranks, then on a 600-yard front his total strength would be 6,300 men, and if in twelve ranks, 7,500’.
82 Bayeux Tapestry, plates LXIV–LXV (E.H.D., vol. II, pp. 272, 273).
83 The site on the Downs was barren, being marked as was said (AS. Chron., ‘D’, s.a. 1066) only by a desolate apple tree.
84 Cf. Fuller, op. cit., pp. 376, 377.
85 Will. Poit., p. 186; Spatz, op. cit., pp. 34–46.
86 Will. Malms. (Gesta Regum, p. 303) says that the Norman troops advanced singing a cantilena about Roland. This is not unlikely. On the other hand, there is nothing to suggest that this cantilena was the ‘Song of Roland’ as it appears in the earliest complete form known to us. The Carmen (vv. 390–400), Henry of Huntingdon (ed. Arnold, p. 202), and Wace (Roman de Rou, vv. 8035–8040) say that they were preceded by a minstrel named ‘Taillefer’, singing and juggling with his sword. It is a good story and it might even be true, though it has the elements of myth (Faral, Jongleurs de France, pp. 56, 57). I have commented on this further in French Studies, vol. XIV (1960), pp. 99, 100.
87 Will. Poit., pp. 180–192.
88 Bayeux Tapestry, plates LXIV, LXVI (E.H.D., vol. II, p. 273).
89 The primary authorities for the battle of Hastings are Will. Poit. and the Bayeux Tapestry. The AS. Chron. only supplies a few incidental details as does Will. Jum. Other authorities which have been used, such as the poem of Baudri of Bourgeuil, are now discredited in this respect. G. H. White, Complete Peerage, vol. XII, part I, Appendix L, has argued also that the Carmen often attributed to Guy, bishop of Amiens, before 1068 was in fact written later and should likewise be disregarded as an independent source for the battle. Its authorship is certainly open to dispute, and there is undoubtedly some relationship between the Carmen and Will. Poit. It is difficult, however, always to be certain who was the copier, and rash to assert that in no case did the later writer add anything from his own independent knowledge. But, certainly, after G. H. White's criticism, the Carmen must be used with caution. See further, below, Appendix D.
90 Will. Poit., pp. 188, 189.
91 Bayeux Tapestry, plate LXVIII (E.H.D., vol. II, p. 274).
92 Fuller, op. cit., pp. 378, 379.
93 Will. Poit., p. 189.
94 Will. Poit., p. 194. Colonel Burne and R. Glover are sceptical about the feigned flights. They are, however, well testified, and they were a feature of contemporary tactics. A feigned flight was used, for instance, by Norman knights at an engagement near Messina in 1060 (Waley, ‘Combined Operations in Sicily A.D. 1060–1078’, Papers of the British School at Rome, vol. XXII (1954), p. 123), and by Robert le Frison at the battle of Cassel in 1071 (Fliche, Philippe I, pp. 252–261).
95 Will. Poit., p. 196.
96 On the death of Harold there has been much dispute, and the matter is exhaustively discussed by G. H. White (op. cit.). The tradition that he was killed by a chance arrow is acceptable to Sir Frank Stenton (op. cit., p. 587), but he may have been otherwise slain. The contradictory evidence is supplied by the Bayeux Tapestry (plates LXXI, LXXII;E.H.D., vol. II, pp. 276, 277), by Will. Malms. (Gesta Regum, p. 363) and in the Carmen (vv. 540–550).
97 Will. Poit., pp. 202–204. The place was afterwards known as ‘Malfosse’.
98 Bayeux Tapestry, plates LXXII, LXXIII (E.H.D., vol. II, pp. 276–278); Will. Poit., p. 204.
99 Douglas, New English Review, November 1945, p. 634.
100 On what follows, see Glover, op. cit. Cf. J. W. Hollister, Anglo-Saxon Military Institutions, esp. pp. 136–140.
101 Bayeux Tapestry, plates XLII, XLIII (E.H.D., vol. II, pp. 259, 260).
102 D. P. Waley, op. cit., pp. 118–125.
103 Stenton, op. cit., p. 585.
104 Individuals who can, by express evidence, be shown to have been present in William's force at Hastings are not numerous. G. H. White (op. cit.; also in Genealogists' Magazine, vol. VI (1932), pp. 51–53) gives a list of fifteen names. An independent investigation has led me to believe that it is reasonable to extend this list to thirty-three or thirty-four names (‘Companions of the Conqueror’, History, vol. XXVII (1943), pp. 130–147). For a further comment, see J. Mason, in Eng. Hist. Rev., vol. LXXI (1956), p. 61. Such measure of difference as there is between Mr White and myself on this matter may be contrasted with our emphatic agreement in repudiating the hundreds of names which have so often been cited. Could the excellent custodians of the castle of Falaise today be persuaded to revise their memorial tablets? To assert that a man ‘came over with the Conqueror’ is hazardous. The army which sailed from Normandy to England in 1066 was of considerable size. The ascertainable ‘Companions of the Conqueror’ are few. On this matter, see further A. J. Bliss in Litera, vol. III (Valetta, 1956).
105 AS. Chron.; ‘D’, s.a. 1066; Will. Poit. (p. 215) omits the name of Aldred, perhaps rightly.
106 Will. Malms., Gesta Regum, p. 307.
107 Flor. Worc., vol. I, p. 228.
108 Will. Poit., pp. 210–214.
109 This place is described by Will. Poit. as the ‘Broken Tower’.
110 Carmen, vv. 620–630.
111 AS. Chron., ‘D’, s.a. 1066.
112 Will. Poit., p. 216.
113 AS. Chron., loc. cit.
114 Will. Jum. (p. 136) suggests a further skirmish outside the walls. Will. Poit. (p. 220) and the AS. Chron. (loc. cit.) imply that the city surrendered without further resistance.
115 Will. Poit., p. 220.
116 Below, chap. 10.
117 Will. Poit., pp. 218, 237. But the possibility of a confusion with Berkhamstead cannot be disregarded.
118 Will. Poit., p. 238; Stenton, William the Conqueror, p. 244.
119 Will. Poit., p. 240; Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 167; Douglas, Domesday Monachorum, p. 66.
120 AS. Chron., ‘D’, s.a. 1066.
121 Will. Poit., pp. 242–260; Ord. Vit., vol. II, pp. 167, 168.
122 Ibid.
123 Cart. S. Trin. Roth., nos. XLVII, LXIII.
124 Ord. Vit., vol. II, p. 168; Gall. Christ., vol. XI; Instrumenta, col. 153.
125 Will. Jum., p. 187. The remains of this church can still be seen.
126 Chartes de Jumièges, no. XXIX. The arguments of the editor for dating this deed ‘about 1073’ seem inadmissible. On the other hand, the absence of prelates among the attestations suggests that it was not given on the occasion of the consecration by Maurilius of the cathedral at Rouen. Perhaps it was given in England either early in 1067 or in 1068 after William's return from Normandy.
127 Maurilius died 8 August 1067. John, son of Count Rodulf, was translated from Avranches to Rouen. His place at Avranches was taken by an Italian named Michael.
128 Will. Poit., p. 262.