CHAPTER 3
William the Conqueror is probably the best known soldier and general of the eleventh century. The conquest of England in 1066 was not only a major historical event, it was also one which has stuck in the minds of at least the English-speaking world. William was a minor when his father died in 1035, and the struggle to impose himself upon Normandy was long and bitter. It was only with the help of his overlord, Henry I of France (1031–60) that the greatest rebellion against him was defeated at the battle of Val-ès-Dunes in 1047 of which we know almost nothing. However, the rebel leader, Guy of Burgundy, took refuge in the castle of Brionne where he held out for three years.1 Thereafter, although William’s position improved, the propensity for rebellion remained. In the wake of his capture of Tours in 1044 Geoffrey Martel, count of Anjou (1040–60), turned his attention to Maine, where the major city of Le Mans was captured in 1051. After the count of Maine’s widow, her son Herbert and daughter Margaret had fled to the Norman court, Geoffrey seized both Domfront, a fief held of the count of Maine by the Bellême family, and the Norman town of Alençon, offering as an inducement to their soldiers a licence to ravage in the Norman lands.2 William failed to take Domfront by coup de main and built four castles, probably earthwork and wood structures, to blockade it while maintaining an active posture which enabled him to rally his troops against an effort to relieve it by Geoffrey, whose forces retired intact and watchful. William now faced a difficult situation for their presence prevented him from ravaging. However, William had apparently kept a close eye on Alençon in the meantime, and, when he realised that its defences were weak, suddenly seized it, dealing so harshly with its garrison that Domfront decided to come to terms.3 The campaign certainly illustrates William’s generalship, with its tight control over events. It indicates how the castle and its supply dominated war yet not at the expense of mobility which was the key factor in William’s victory. It should also be added that Geoffrey was a good general, but here he was at the very edge of his authority, so his power was attenuated and his ability to bring it to bear without enormous effort limited. William’s own stabs against Maine failed for much the same reasons, until after Geoffrey’s death in 1063 when, taking advantage of the internal conflict then rending the house of Anjou, he advanced against Le Mans with fire and sword as described by William of Poitiers.4
In the years 1051–2 there occurred a major shift in alliances in northern France. The Norman dukes had long been close allies of the Capetian royal house. William’s father, Robert I, had sustained Henry against the revolt of 1031 and in return the king had supported his son as we have seen.5But the Capetians had also long been friendly with the house of Anjou, who had been their allies against the grave threat posed by the counts of Blois-Champagne, most recently accepting their conquest of Tours in 1044 from the Blésois.6 When these two allies quarrelled over Maine, King Henry supported the Angevins, posing a grave threat to William whose régime was still far from secure after his recent minority. In 1053 William of Arques, a great lord of upper Normandy with many allies, rebelled and his castle of Arques, newly built and well fortified, was the focus of events. William’s men at Rouen, his principes militiae, tried unsuccessfully to interfere with the preparation of Arques, but when William arrived he built a counter-castle and settled down to a siege. King Henry led an army into Normandy, ravaging as he went, but was ambushed and, although he got supplies into Arques, his force was so weakened that the castle fell soon after his withdrawal. In the following year Henry tried again with two armies, one under Odo, his brother, striking into Eastern Normandy and the other under his own command, supported by the Angevins, advancing via Evreux. The duke adopted the classic tactic of shadowing his enemy, and one of his detachments fell upon French ravagers at Mortemer causing such loss that both French armies withdrew. The same tactics of shadowing the French, preventing them from spreading out to forage, were employed in 1057 and this time William fell upon the French and Angevin army as the tide cut it in two crossing the Dives at Varaville, causing very heavy losses. It was at this battle that, according to Wace, archers played a notable role.7 There is much to admire in William’s generalship in all these campaigns. He was a master of the contemporary techniques of war and succeeded in impressing his vassals and preserving their loyalty. Perhaps even more important is to notice the scale of effort which he managed to sustain despite his internal difficulties. He, and indeed his opponents, mounted major campaigns interspersed with sieges and lesser affairs over a period of very nearly ten years. This obviously says a great deal about the economic efficiency of the manorial economy, but it also says a great deal about the ability to organise, recruit and sustain armies. It is a theme not much discussed by modern historians of the period, but it was of course a vital skill in the circumstances of the crusade.
Even William’s admiring biographer, William of Poitiers, admits that he evaded battle whenever possible. Indeed, Varaville was the only occasion before Hastings when he engaged on any scale in the open field and it was then only in the most favourable circumstances. The qualification ‘on any scale’ is important, for there were many occasions during these years when there were fights, but they were of a limited kind which could only have limited results. In 1053 and 1054 King Henry simply absorbed minor defeats. William’s was not a technique without battles – rather he committed himself to a style of war which avoided heavy losses and conserved his forces, preferring the tactics we have noted above. In this he showed wisdom, for battle on any scale could be very expensive and was terribly hazardous. The battle of Cassel on 22 February 1071 was fairly widely noted by contemporaries.8 In 1070 Baldwin VI of Flanders died and the succession of his fifteen year old son, Arnulf III, who was supported by his mother Richilde, was contested by the dead count’s brother Robert I the Frisian, father of Robert II of Flanders who went on the First Crusade. Robert rallied support especially in northern Flanders and struck suddenly at Cassel where Arnulf’s army was concentrated; in its ranks was Eustace II count of Boulogne, a major vassal in Flanders and in England and father of three participants in the First Crusade, Eustace III of Boulogne, Godfrey de Bouillon and Baldwin. Arnulf was supported by his overlord Philip of France, whose aunt Adela had married Baldwin V of Flanders (1035–67), amongst whose forces was a contingent of ten knights from Normandy led by William FitzOsborn, a small force whose size indicates that the Conqueror, who had married Baldwin V’s daughter Mathilda, was very much more concerned with affairs in England.9 Robert seems to have advanced quickly toward Cassel, evidently seeing battle as offering a quick decision and needing to force it before the superior strength of his enemies could gather. We do not know for certain who held Cassel at the start of the battle, the details of which are largely lost to us. One source suggests that Robert lured the allies into an ambush by a feint, but beyond this there is confusion.10 What interests us is the extraordinary outcome of this battle. Arnulf III was killed and so was William FitzOsborn; Richilde was captured by Robert’s men, and Robert the Frisian was captured by Eustace II of Boulogne. Within a month the king of France had concentrated a much larger force at Montreuil and was ready to resume the war, but he was forced to recognise Robert who was freed in exchange for Richilde and was elevated to the county through the support of Eustace II. Baldwin of Hainault, the other surviving son of Baldwin VI, later unsuccessfully contested the county of Flanders, but was to die on crusade with Robert’s son, Robert II, in 1098.11 Robert the Frisian had had little option but to seek battle, for most of his support was in the poorer part of Flanders and his rival had powerful allies. The immediate outcome of his strategy was poor reward for his bravery, although in the long run the death of Arnulf opened the way for a favourable political solution. Over a century later the risks were just as great. In September 1198 Richard I of England (1189–99) fell upon the army of King Philip of France (1180–1223) as it tried to relieve Courcelles, inflicting a severe defeat during which the bridge at Gisors broke throwing the French king into the water where he ‘had to drink of the river’. Richard reported these events in a letter to the bishop of Durham which has a confessional, almost apologetic note, reflecting the hazards of resorting to battle: ‘In doing this we risked not only our own life but the kingdom itself, against the advice of all our councillors’.12 Such sober reflection from one of the greatest of all medieval generals explains why major battle was only to be undertaken in the most favourable circumstances, as William showed at Varaville, or for the highest stakes, as in the Hastings campaign.
Because of its spectacular and decisive results, Hastings is perhaps the most celebrated of all medieval battles.13 Certain aspects of the Hastings campaign need to be emphasised, however, because they illuminate the nature of war in the late eleventh century. In the first place the scale of the undertaking, requiring the collection and construction of a fleet, was enormous. The devoted biographer of William tells us that when his hero announced his intention of conquering England as news came through of the death of Edward and the usurpation of Harold, many advised him that such an undertaking was beyond the strength of the Normans and some seem to have refused to take part or promised, then reneged.14 Indeed it was a huge undertaking. William was obliged to consult with his magnates in a series of conferences at Lillebonne, Bonneville-sur-Touques and Caen at which they agreed to unprecedentedly heavy contributions to the army and, also apparently, to the provision of ships such as the sixty raised by William FitzOsborn. It seems likely that William established the number of troops which each lord owed him according to the extent of his lands, and then concluded agreements over and above such figures for the special circumstances of the great expedition. According to Wace, William FitzOsborn exhorted them to provide at least double their obligations and this caused anxiety amongst the magnates lest the increased contribution be seen as a precedent, leading the duke to assure them individually that this would not be so.15 Indeed, in one sense the critics of the expedition were proved correct, for William had to seek resources outside Normandy. The presence of Flemish, French and Breton troops in the host at Hastings, and afterwards amongst the new aristocracy of England, is too well known to need discussion here. The importance of Eustace II of Boulogne in the Bayeux tapestry testifies to this, and we know of the presence of soldiers from Poitiers. The Carmen de Hastingae Proeliosuggests the presence of South Italian Normans. This indicates the range of his recruiting effort.16 Wace gives some hint of the diversity of the Conqueror’s arrangements when he speaks of soldiers coming to him in groups and singly. ‘Many wished for the duke’s lands should he conquer England. Some requested pay and allowances and gifts. Often it was necessary to distribute these, to those who could not afford to wait.’17 Overall some 14,000 men including sailors were mobilised, of whom something like 8,000 were effectives, including 3,000 cavalry. Amongst the 5,000 foot were a lot of archers who appear, from the Tapestry, to have been lightly armed, and a sizable corps of what William of Poitiers calls pedites loricati, heavily armed footsoldiers. In the battle the duke would find it convenient to divide his force into divisions of Normans, Bretons and French. This vast assemblage must have stripped Normandy of troops, but such exposure was possible because two inveterate enemies had died in 1060, Henry I of France and Geoffrey Martel of Anjou. The regency of France was in the hands of William’s father-in-law Baldwin V of Flanders.18 This huge force had to be concentrated near Dives-sur-Mer where the fleet gathered in the summer of 1066, and it had to be supplied, for William of Poitiers tells us that William would not allow the troops to plunder and so arose what he describes as an extraordinary situation: despite the presence of squadrons of knights, farmers could get on with their business and travellers come and go without fear, an interesting comment on contemporary chivalry!19
This concentration of forces at Dives of some 14,000 men and 2,000–3,000 warhorses presented a formidable problem of supply. The task of feeding and watering them, it has been suggested, demanded 9,000 cartloads of grain, straw, wine and firewood along with eight tons of iron for horseshoes alone. They generated 700,000 gallons of urine and five million pounds of horse-shit during their stay and this had to be removed. In addition there must have been many draught animals and indeed the Bayeux tapestry shows us military supplies being moved on specialised vehicles.20 Warhorses were very valuable and supporting sizable numbers of them was a grave problem. Recent research indicates that the breeding of specialised strains of horses was a great burden, requiring enclosed parks to isolate mares and suitable stallions in well-found studfarms.21 In addition, it must be recognised that in western Europe there were few ranges where horses could graze and that these animals were stall-fed with grain and hay. They thus competed with men for grain while for the provision of hay, meadows needed to be developed. This explains the contrast between the west where the development of bigger and heavier animals was a necessary consequence of this costly regime, and the east where the availability of ranges in Asia Minor and the Euphrates plain, as in North Africa, fostered the development of a lighter breed, though the progress of this distinction was limited in the eleventh Century.22 Supporting such animals was a major drain on the peasant surplus at the best of times. In conditions of war, feeding horses presented terrible problems. In August and September of 1914 von Kluck’s First Army, which marched on the right of the German attack under the famous ‘Schlieffen Plan’, had 84,000 horses consuming two million pounds of fodder per day, or twenty-four pounds of grain and hay each. Although they were advancing in a most favourable season the cavalry were tired by the time they crossed the French frontier and in poor condition by the start of the Battle of the Marne on 6 September. The lot of the draught animals was worse and the guns were badly delayed.23 Difficult as the conditions of 1914 must have been, they were infinitely better for the survival of animals than in the eleventh century. William’s concentration at Dives took place at a most favourable time of year and his subsequent deployment enjoyed good fortune. However, the crusaders faced much more difficult conditions and the state of the horses rapidly became a major preoccupation for the army, as we shall see. Once into the Anatolian steppe, animals were very vulnerable, and it seems unlikely that any western Europeans animals survived the journey.
Contemporaries were deeply impressed by the fleet which William gathered, and which is so graphically illustrated in the Tapestry. Its actual size was not definitely known to contemporaries. The ship list of William the Conqueror suggests that the Norman lords should have produced some 776 ships, and Wace recollects being told that the fleet which sailed numbered 700 less four, though he had also found the figure of 3,000 written down.24 It is not necessarily the case that the Norman lords produced their quotas and figures as low as 400–500 have been suggested, but most writers believe that a total of between 700 and 1,000 concentrated at Dives where the army was gathering. William of Poitiers tells us that the duke ordered that ships be constructed, but it is unlikely that a huge fleet could have been built in the period between the death of the Confessor and the landing at Pevensey on 28 September. The evidence suggests that the duke acquired existing ships, in particular hiring them along with mercenaries from Flanders. The greater number of them were merchantmen suitable for the transport of horses and supplies as well as men, though a number of longships and skiffs were undoubtedly included. The emphasis on shipbuilding in William of Poitiers and the Tapestry probably owes much to the excitement generated by this activity. But evidently William was pressed to find enough ships, for the Tapestry appears to show unseasoned wood being cut for shipbuilding. It seems unlikely that William had special transports made for his horses, such as those used by the Byzantines, for the Tapestry does not show anything resembling them and the written sources do not give any indication of such exotic vessels.25By early September the concentration of forces at Dives seems to have been complete and the fleet sailed on a westerly wind for St Valéry where it waited fifteen days until a gentle southerly took it to England.26 By any standards this was a remarkable logistical and organisational achievement. It is important to recognise that while exceptional, it was not unique.
King Harold of England knew of the intentions and preparations of the duke of Normandy; indeed William of Poitiers records the reception given to an English spy.27 By May Harold set in train his own preparations, hastened by the raids of his dissident brother Tosti on southern England. His fleet was apparently slow to mobilise, but he may well have attempted a spoiling attack on William’s forces across the Channel, while on land his troops stood ‘everywhere along by the sea’ for the English had an efficient military system. This Anglo-Saxon fyrd was centred on the retainers of the king and the great thegns and perhaps some mercenaries, supplemented by shire levies whose localities provided them with support.28 The peculiarity of the Anglo-Saxon military tradition was the failure to develop any effective cavalry. Although the élite of the army rode to battle there is every evidence that they fought on foot. Thus, although they could move quickly across country, they lacked battlefield mobility, the key factor in the coming war.29 Then on 8 September the Anglo-Saxon fleet and army broke up, the former going to London with losses, because, as the Chronicle tells us: ‘the provisions of the people were gone’.30 It is easy to contrast this logistic disaster unfavourably with the triumph across the Channel. However, to maintain an army and a fleet as long as this was a major achievement, especially as considerable forces stayed in the north to guard against the threat of attack from Tosti and Harald Hardrada.31 Moreover, when Harold heard of the Norse attack on York, he was able to gather his army and strike very quickly, which suggests that not all had dispersed. Probably the extent of his demobilisation has been exaggerated and the best troops remained with him. Furthermore, the English fleet took to the sea quickly to cut off the Normans after they landed on 28 September. On 12 September the Norman fleet left its concentration area in and around Dives and sailed east to St Valéry, just as Harold heard of the landing of Harald Hardrada at York with a fleet of 300–500 ships reinforced by Tosti; they defeated earls Edwin and Morcar at Fulford Bridge on 20 September with a great slaughter on both sides and took possession of York. By 24 September Harold, after a whirlwind march, was at Tadcaster. On 25 September he marched his troops through York and surprised and slaughtered the Danish army at Stamford Bridge. Hearing of the Norman landing at Pevensey of 28 September, he turned his army south and after spending 5–11 October raising more troops in London, marched out to confront William whose spies warned him of the coming of the Anglo-Saxon army on 13 October. The next day the battle took place and Harold was killed.32 The organisational effort made by both sides in this summer of 1066 was remarkable and it points to the abilities of commanders. It was paralleled elsewhere in Europe at this time. The Norman conquest of South Italy and Sicily reached its climax in the years 1071 and 1072 when the major cities of Bari and Palermo fell. Bari was the last major bastion of Byzantine power in Italy and its powerful fortifications were deservedly feared. When Robert Guiscard began the siege on 5 August 1068 he knew he was starting a major undertaking and that blockade by sea was vital. In 1060–1 the Normans had demonstrated their willingness to take to ships with a series of raids on Messina which culminated in its seizure by a force which included 700–1,000 cavalry whose mounts had to be ferried across to Sicily. This successful lodgement opened the way for a conquest made easier by divisions amongst the three major Muslim Emirates.33 Bari was a much greater operation in the course of which a land blockade was established and complemented with a sea blockade, during which the Norman ships were linked together to form a barrier to penetration into the port. A Byzantine relief force did break in, however, in 1069, and a sea and land diversion against Brindisi was heavily defeated. However, the Normans enjoyed aid from Pisa whose fleet brought troops and crossbowmen for land as well as sea operations. The defeat of a major Byzantine fleet in 1070 opened the way for negotiations which culminated in a negotiated surrender of the city in April 1071.34 This long operation was then followed by the siege of Palermo begun in August 1071, to which the Hauteville brothers, Robert and Roger, brought a force of fifty-eight vessels. On land they built siege machines and on sea a blockade was established which was not totally successful for a North African fleet broke through to provision the city. However, in the end hunger brought the city to a negotiated surrender on 10 January 1072.35
These remarkable operations in the south were paralleled as feats of organisation by the German expeditions to Italy. Documentation on the military organisation of the German kings is sparse, but the Indiculus Loricatorum is a list of the reinforcements called for by Otto II (973–83) after his defeat in 982 at Cortone. A total of 2,090 mounted men were called to service on the basis of what appears to have been established servitia debita which formed the recruiting base of the imperial army. On the marches of Germany a regular levy, the census, was imposed upon the Slavs in order to maintain the garrisons and military forces of their conquerors.36 In 1026 Conrad II (1024–39) undertook the expedition to Italy which led to his imperial coronation. It is not generally seen as a major military action but Italy was unfriendly. After the crowning in Milan, Conrad ravaged the lands of hostile Pavia, though he was unable to take the city. He had to put down a revolt in Ravenna before proceeding to Rome. The imperial coronation was brilliant, but afterwards a German and a Roman quarrelled over a hide and severe fighting broke out involving the entire German army. The ‘Investiture Conflict’ was a German civil war involving bloody battles in a land where the castle was emerging as an important factor. During its course Henry IV led several major expeditions to Italy including the siege of Rome in 1083 in which Godfrey participated when siege machinery, including rams, was constructed.37 The regularity and scale of the Italian expeditions of the German emperors made a profound impact on the emergence of the German knightly class, the ministeriales. In the twelfth century the codes which governed their conduct were elaborated, particularly with regard to their duties on the ‘complicated and onerous imperial ventures into Italy’, with both heavy fines for failure to comply and fitting out allowances payable from their lord. In 1154 the archbishop of Cologne required that all holding land worth five marks should go, and they were given ten marks for equipment together with supplies, horses and pay of one mark per month once over the Alps. In 1161 the archbishop sent 500 men at a cost of 10,000 marks.38
The organisation of war was the primary concern of government, but even at its best it remained, by our standards, simple. In essence those who held land of the king owed service in one way or another and this obligation co-existed with an older Germanic tradition that all free men had a duty to serve the king in moments of emergency. We have noted the establishment of quotas in Germany and the same process was at work in Normandy, although it should be stressed that ‘feudalism’ was emergent in the late eleventh century and that as yet there was only ‘a tangle of incipient feudal customs, partly built up from below’.39 In any case, powerful rulers had sources other than nascent feudal obligation for the raising of great armies. It is now clear that paid troops had always played a major role, as they did, for example, under William Rufus. The distinctions between mercenary, endowed knight and household knight are not clear – those serving from obligation beyond some fixed period might well be paid, and there was a strong tendency to argue about how far obligations went. The aristocracy and the knightly class certainly provided a large pool of skilled manpower trained in war from which soldiers could be recruited.40 Moreover, it was upon the royal household, their wealth and their leading followers, that the Norman kings relied to raise armies. These professional groupings of household followers around the king – paid and aspirant, or endowed and paid and hoping for better – were what the king relied on for the core of his army and its command. In time of war such a body could expand and serve as the command force of a great army. Through them the sinews of war were channelled, for in the end it was money which made victory.41 Although such bodies, such military households, can only be documented from the early twelfth century, it is unlikely that they were invented – rather they must have evolved over a period of time. In 1101 Henry I negotiated an arrangement with Robert II of Flanders whereby the latter swore to be his man and to provide 1,000 knights in return for a fee. William Rufus almost certainly made the same arrangement when he met Robert in 1093. It is interesting that the treaty specified that each knight was to be provided with three horses.42 It seems likely that this kind of organisation was the secret of Rufus’s reputation for raising and paying armies.43 A medieval army was a composite of forces around a core of loyal leaders whom we can regard as generals. They were not merely military men; they also formed an administrative corps for the vital task of handling and paying out money. Clearly both William Rufus and Henry I needed such a body if they were prepared to take on large Flemish forces. Of course we cannot describe such organisation with any certainty outside the Anglo-Norman sphere, and clearly for Suger such capacity was a matter of wonder. What is of interest is that such capacity had already come into being amongst the Normans on the eve of the First Crusade; they were a major element in the army of conquest which Urban II called into being in 1095. This organisational development indicates the degree to which war in the late eleventh century was not a matter of instinct, of ‘kick and rush’, but of guile and organisation, in short of generalship. This explains the rarity not of battle but of battle on a large scale. They understood the context in which they were making war. To attack your enemy’s economic base, isolate his castles, starve his population, these were surer methods and more applicable to the usually limited objectives for which men fought. However, there were occasions when the stakes were so high that all had to be risked on the throw of battle, and on these occasions the men who directed things sought to ensure that their chances of victory were as great as possible in what was the most risky of all undertakings.
Fulk le Réehin, count of Anjou (1067–1109) described how he fought his brother for the county over a period of eight years:
But still he attacked me yet again, laying siege to my fortress of Brissac. There I rode against him with those princes whom God in His clemency, permitted to join me, and I fought with him a pitched battle in which, by God’s grace, I overcame him; and he was captured and handed over to me, and a thousand of his men with him.44
The repeated invocation of God’s name shows how few illusions Fulk had about the chances of battle. Duke William of Normandy shared his wariness, but in the expedition against England battle was unavoidable. Its risks probably underlay the unwillingness already noted of some of the Norman lords to join in the enterprise. William’s attack on England enjoyed great good fortune. His preparations had taken a very long time, yet he found exceptionally good weather very late in the year for the crossing on 27 September 1066.45 In the passage from Dives to St Valéry his fleet had suffered losses, but none are recorded for the main crossing on 27 September and this suggests that the favourable breeze that day did not exceed Force 3.5, about 10 mph. In any greater wind his precious horses would probably have suffered losses for they were housed in ordinary transports, not ships specially designed for the purpose.46 It seems likely that he had sent out light ships to watch the English fleet and coasts and so would have known of the partial collapse of the enemy defences on 8 September and probably also of Harold’s march north.47 Since William seems to have been well aware of Norse interest in England and had encouraged Tosti, Harold’s estranged brother, in his attacks on England, this was not mere good luck. William’s diplomacy to isolate Harold had been intensive and he was able to unfurl a papal banner before his army.48After landing at Pevensey William soon realised that Hastings was a better site, and moved there a day later. Immediately he began to fortify his bases, building castles at both to protect themselves and provide safe harbour for the fleet.49 At the same time he raided the countryside, a process shown vividly in the Tapestry. It is possible that this ravaging, in Harold’s own earldom, was intended to provoke the enemy into an overhasty attack, but the feeding of such a large host would have compelled it anyway.50 With a secure base William could dominate the Sussex coast, but in the longer run his situation was not very favourable, for the English fleet would soon threaten his communications which in any case were at risk as the weather deteriorated and the autumn storms blew up. William wanted a quick solution, as he had probably known all along; he needed to seek battle and to capitalise quickly on his strength and the high morale of his army buoyed up by promises of English land.51 On the other hand, he hardly dared risk deep penetration of an enemy hinterland where he would find difficulties enough later, even unopposed.52 But he was ready for battle. According to William of Poitiers, a Breton servant of the Confessor, Robert Fitz-Wimarch, sent a message warning him of the coming of the Saxon army and urging him to take refuge in his fortifications, but William rejected this advice eagerly stating his desire for battle.53 It was William’s great good fortune that Harold played into his hands, but this was a miscalculation brilliantly exploited by the Norman duke.
Harold’s victory over the Danes at York on 25 September was, by all accounts, a bloody affair which, coming on top of the losses at Fulford on 20 September, must seriously have reduced the available effectives in the Anglo-Saxon army. Traditionally, he is supposed to have heard of William’s landing on or shortly after 1 October and then to have been obliged to retrace his thirteen-day 190 mile march to London, arriving at Hastings on 13 October. If this chronology is in any way correct, then we can suppose that not all of his army came with him, for Ordericus says he spent five days in London raising forces. This may or may not be precisely true, but Harold would have needed some time to concentrate troops and surely no considerable army could have moved so far so fast.54 Harold then set off and reached Battle on the evening of 13 October. We do not know what his intentions were. It is possible that he hoped to take the Normans by surprise as he had the Norse and this was certainly what the Normans later thought, even fearing a night attack which caused the army to spend an uncomfortable and sleepless night.55 It is equally possible that he wanted to force William’s army to concentrate by its fortifications, cutting it off from food – a tactic we have noted used by William himself. In either case his error was to march as close to his enemy as Battle, a mere seven miles from the main enemy encampment. This was the edge of the wooded lands and he could go no further for, like all Anglo-Saxon forces, his army was used to fighting on foot – although its leading members travelled on horseback. On the open Downs such an infantry force could be cut to pieces by the Norman cavalry. The error was compounded because William pounced on it. For William had been at pains to keep a close watch for enemy movements – his emphasis on good reconnaissance was a life-long characteristic.56 Early on the morning of 14 October he marched quickly to Battle and deployed his army catching Harold unawares, as the Chronicle E has it: ‘before all the army had come’ and D more interestingly: ‘And William came against him by surprise before his army was drawn up in battle array. But the king nevertheless fought hard against him with the men who were willing to support him’. Florence of Worcester says that only half Harold’s army had assembled and only a third deployed when the Normans struck.57 Harold managed to seize a strong position at the mouth of a funnel through the woods on the main road by the present village of Battle.58 He had a strong position for defence and his men were determined. But they had no way of attacking the enemy who could retreat easily and attack once more, unless they obligingly panicked. Nor could Harold’s forces retreat for the enemy were upon them. Harold’s impetuous rush forward meant that his army was immobilised, unable to go forward or back, and though it barred William’s route inland the initiative in the forthcoming battle would lie with the Normans. This is the force of William of Poitiers’s famous comment: ‘What a strange contest then began, in which one of the protagonists attacked freely and at will, the other enduring the assault as though rooted to the ground’.59 Moreover, there was an additional problem springing from Harold’s haste; his army appears to have had very few archers.60 This does not mean that they were without missile throwers – javelins, axes and clubs fly through the air in the Tapestry. But the bow outranged all these: it was a striking vulnerability, and William’s deployment was organised to exploit it. His army advanced in three lines with archers thrown forward, followed by armoured foot and then the cavalry. In addition his line was divided into three divisions, with the Bretons on the left, the Normans in the centre and the French on the right.61 In effect William was assaulting a fortress – the close-packed Anglo-Saxon and Danish infantry settled in a strong position on top of the hill.62 Of these many were professionals as well armed as their enemies, but as the Tapestry shows there were many lesser folk, lacking anything except a spear.
William clearly intended that his archers should weaken the enemy by their fire, probably from about fifty yards, protected from enemy sally by the presence of heavily armed infantry who would then charge in to the assault making breaches which the cavalry could exploit. The strength of the Saxon position and the effectiveness of their weapons balked the Normans.63 The cavalry then joined in the melée until, on the left, the Bretons were repulsed and pursued by the English: William rallied his men by showing them that the rumour of his death was untrue and they fell upon the exposed English with great slaughter. It was perhaps a result of this near disaster that William resorted to feigned flight, twice drawing out substantial forces of his enemy who were then cut to pieces.64 This attrition was reinforced by direct assault on the English position, supported by volleys of arrows. In his description of this final stage of the battle, William of Poitiers makes it clear that the English continued to fight hard but were gradually surrounded, losses forcing the contraction of their line. However, it was probably the death of Harold and his brothers which led to the eventual flight.
The battle illustrates the skills of a late eleventh-century commander. The marshalling of resources speaks volumes for the duke’s ability to exploit the peasant surplus. Many of the soldiers in the Norman army were paid professionals from all over France, and there were similar people, English and Danish, in Harold’s force. William sought battle, but he had obviously planned to fortify his bases and to live off the country. He kept a close watch on his enemy who failed to surprise him. Unable to advance or retreat, Harold was himself caught, on the morning of the 14 October, by the speed with which the Normans advanced and deployed, but he managed to seize a strong position. The Norman order of battle was well designed, for the assault and the mobility which had given them the initiative was used with skill to erode the English strength. A feature of the battle was William’s control of his army. He led by example, an essential quality of a medieval commander, having three horses killed under him, while at the same time supervising his forces and encouraging them even at the very end when some English made a stand at the Malfosse.65Harold’s failure to await reinforcements meant that he lacked archers and so exposed his men cruelly.
The decisive arm in the battle was, however, the Norman cavalry. It was not that they could charge home sweeping all before them, for clearly they could not. The Tapestry shows them not so much charging into the enemy as jabbing and hacking at them. The mass charge with the lances couched, which would be the feature of cavalry warfare later in the twelfth century, was not a feature of Hastings: in the Tapestry some figures carry their lances couched, but for the most part those with spears jab at their enemies overarm or underarm, or even throw them, while others hack with their swords. The question of when this style of ‘shock tactics’ was developed, with riders en masse in close order clamping their long and heavy lances under their arms, has been much debated. It is now generally accepted that the technique was only in its infancy in 1066, but views of when it became a widely accepted method vary from about 1100 to the 1140s. Inevitably much of the discussion has been based on medieval illustrations and their interpretation, a factor which has also complicated discussion of the size of horses. However, the illustrations used too often show individual warriors and discussions have focussed on these portrayals. In fact mounted soldiers must quite often have tucked their lances under their arms; it was a natural and useful way of using the weapon, though others could be just as useful as the Bayeux Tapestry shows. What was novel was the employment of this technique by large numbers in disciplined units, a matter on which the illustrative material is not very helpful. It would appear to the present writer that the First Crusade represents a critical stage in the evolution of this technique, as will be indicated later.66The Normans who fought at Hastings probably owed their cohesion and discipline, which enabled them to manoeuvre as in the feigned flights, to long practice in fighting alongside their neighbours grouped around the local lord.67 This was not the triumph of cavalry over infantry as portrayed by Oman, rather it was the triumph of a good commander who used all the means at his disposal to break down a courageous enemy. His campaign was methodical and his battle formation well adapted for its purpose. The archers weakened the enemy and were guarded by heavy foot who then moved to the assault followed up by cavalry. The resilience of Harold’s force blunted this plan but William was able to extemporise the feigned flights which weakened his enemy for the final bloody assault in which, amongst the English, it seemed as though the dead as they fell moved more than the living.68 It was not the shock value of the cavalry which triumphed, but their disciplined mobility and courage. Unbroken infantry was always highly dangerous to cavalry. At Bourgethéroulde in 1124 some of the rebels rejoiced when the English king’s household troops dismounted, but the experienced Amaury de Montfort took a more realistic view. ‘A mounted soldier who has dismounted with his men will not fly from the field – he will either die or conquer’.69 At Tinchebrai in 1106 Henry I of England (1099–1135) dismounted much of his force and it was these that halted Robert Curthose’s last charge.70 Indeed, the value of infantry in anchoring a line of defence was always recognised – Leo VI ‘the Wise’ (886–912) had suggested that infantry be posted behind cavalry in the line of battle so that the latter could withdraw behind them if things went badly, and King Baldwin of Jerusalem (1118–32) would use just this formation at Hab in 1119.71 An eleventh-century Spanish Muslim writer, Abu Bakr at-Turtusi suggested a rather more complex though not dissimilar tactical formation:
The tactics we use and which seem the most efficacious against our enemy are these. The infantry with their antelope [hide] shields, lances and iron-tipped javelins are placed, kneeling in ranks. Their lances rest obliquely on their shoulders, the shaft touching the ground behind them, the point directed towards the enemy. Each one kneels on his left knee with his shield in the air. Behind the infantry are the picked archers who, with their arrows, can pierce coats of mail. Behind the archers are the cavalry. When the Christians charge, the infantry remains in position, kneeling as before. As soon as the enemy comes into range, the archers let loose a hail of arrows while the infantry throw their javelins and receive the charge on the points of their lances. Then infantry and archers open their ranks to right and left and through the gaps they create, the cavalry rushes the enemy and inflicts upon him what Allah wills.72
In recognising the limitations of cavalry and the value of infantry we need to bear in mind that the horses used at Hastings were comparatively small animals. Recent research suggests that in the late eleventh century a horse of twelve hands was quite large, and one of fourteen or more exceptional. To put this into perspective, a Shetland is ten hands, a twelve hand horse would now be classified as a pony, and fourteen a small hunter. These estimates are based on examining the representations of horses in the Bayeux Tapestry, particularly in relation to their riders.73 In the Tapestry all the horsemen arc riding ‘long’, that is with their legs at almost full-stretch and feet in stirrups fully extended, a configuration which gives stability. In all cases the rider’s legs project well below the body of the horse, suggesting a small animal. It is possible that this is an artistic convention but the story of Richard, son of Asclctin of Aversa, who liked to ride horses so small that his feet almost touched the ground is well-known. Moreover, similar representations are known in quite different contexts; an eleventh-century Spanish marble relief and the early twelfth-century Commentaries of Beatus (BM Add 11695) arc examples and many more could be cited. It is interesting that in the Aquileia mural of a crusader with spear couched pursuing and killing a Saracen, no difference in the size of horses is suggested, and this seems to be generally true of early twelfth-century pictures.74 William’s knights charging uphill against steady infantry must have needed good nerves and it is doubtful if they were aware of the ‘shock’ effect which later writers would ascribe to them. What happened along the crest of that hill where Battle Abbey now stands must have resembled the sixteenth-century ‘push at pike’, not the charge of some Hollywood Light Brigade. William exploited his good luck and, decisively, used the mobility of his cavalry with great skill. But the fact that cavalry was decisive does not mean that it was totally dominant, as later experience mentioned here shows. William was certainly careful to bring plenty of foot-soldiers with him.75 Battle was always chancy – William was able to rally his men against one early moment of panic which could have destroyed him. Once this crisis was over he held the initiative and could plan his attacks and he did so to great effect. Hastings was a decisive battle largely because the killing of Harold and his brothers, together with a large number of thegns whose deaths came on top of the butchery at Fulford and Stamford, deprived the Anglo-Saxon realm of much of its leadership. Harold himself paid the price for his folly in engaging too soon. Even so, the battle did not deliver the whole realm to William. He would soon be crowned, but it was only by terrible devastation in the north and covering the land with a network of castles that he was able to secure his hold. This process of conquest was greatly facilitated by the lack of castles in England. The English learned – Hereward built a castle at Ely in 1071 – but by then it was too late and William’s long war of attrition, which followed Hastings, was on the brink of success.76
The conquest of England is not isolated as an example of large scale and complex military effort in late eleventh century Europe. Only a few years later Robert Guiscard, the Norman conqueror of South Italy, launched a great expedition to capture the Eastern Roman Empire. This involved the raising of a fleet and a great army which was kept in the field for some four years from 1081–5. Guiscard had been seeking a Byzantine marriage for his family and when his efforts collapsed be took advantage of the internal weakness of the empire in the early years of Alexius I Comnenus (1081–1118). It was an extraordinarily bold act, for Robert’s brother, Roger, would not complete the conquest of Sicily until 1091, while he himself had promised to aid Pope Gregory VII (1073–85) against Henry IV of Germany. In these circumstances the Byzantines were able to create diplomatic difficulties by subsidising Henry IV, inflaming hostility amongst the many Norman leaders who had resented the Hauteville domination, some of whom were actually employed as mercenaries by Alexius, and by playing upon Venetian concern about a Norman dominion on both sides of the Adriatic. This diplomatic background severely hampered the Norman campaign.77 War opened late in 1080 when Bohemond landed at Avlona with the vanguard of an army 15,000 strong whose core was a purely Norman force of 1,300 knights.78 By 17 June 1081, after seizing Corfu, Robert and Bohemond were before Dyrrachium, the western terminus of the Via Egnetia, the great road to Constantinople, held for Alexius by George Paleologus. A close siege was established around Dyrrachium with the construction of a great leather-covered siege-tower. Against it, Paleologus built a tower on the wall equipped with wooden beams to hold off the Norman attack, and as the two towers engaged, his troops sallied out and burned the siege-tower.79 In July 1081 the Venetians largely destroyed the Norman fleet, and Guiscard was now faced with a strong Greek army under Alexius which by 15 October was close to Dyrrachium. Guiscard’s situation was now extremely difficult, his communications were cut and an enemy force was in the field. Alexius debated whether to attack, or to establish a counter-blockade which would starve the Normans. There was much to commend either course of action. The problem with blockade was that it would take time and Alexius had problems elsewhere, and it was probably because of this that he advanced to battle on 18 October 1081. Guiscard burned the remnant of his fleet, forcing his troops to fight. He seems to have surprised Alexius by leaving his camp early in the morning, so that it was captured by the garrison of Dyrrachium and other forces sent by Alexius. As the Greek army deployed, the Varangian guard, numbering in its ranks many Anglo-Saxons, prepared for action.80 Then they charged, contrary to Alexius’s orders and though they pushed back the horse and infantry under the count of Bari, they were overextended and defeated by an infantry charge in the flank. Many of Alexius’s compound force, including the Turks and the large Slav force under their ruler Bodin, then fled making no effort to intervene as the Normans fell upon Alexius in the centre.81 Guiscard’s victory opened the way for the fall of Dyrrachium in February 1082 enabling the Normans to advance via Deabolis to Kastoria in the spring of 1082. At this point Guiscard was forced to return to Italy by revolt in his own lands, fanned by Byzantine money and by Henry IV’s assault on Rome which Alexius had encouraged, leaving Bohemond to conduct a campaign whose immediate purpose was probably to secure a firm base for further advance. Although a number of cities fell and Bohemond twice defeated Alexius’s efforts to relieve Joannina the Norman expedition was now in difficulties. Bohemond failed to seize Ochrida and Berroea, while the fort at Moglena fell to a Byzantine counterattack. Skopia, Pelagonia and Trikala, amongst others, fell, but the siege of Larissa was undertaken late in 1082 at a time when there had been desertions and treachery in the Norman force.82 These symptoms of exhaustion prepared the way for Alexius to challenge Bohemond in the open field. His earlier experience had not been good. Anna tells us that after the defeat at Dyrrachium Alexius had decided that: ‘the first charge of the Keltic cavalry was irresistible’. In his attempts to relieve the siege of Joannina he used strategies to counter this. In his first effort he strengthened his centre with wagons mounted with poles, whose presence was intended to break up enemy cavalry assault. However, Bohemond was forewarned and attacked on the flanks. It was not a decisive defeat and the emperor returned, this time protecting his centre with coltrops, iron barbs scattered on the ground – but Bohemond again attacked on the flank. At Larissa in the spring of 1083, however, Alexius lured much of Bohemond’s force away from his camp which the Byzantines captured, thus forcing the Normans to raise the siege, although the victory left the Norman army intact.83 Bohemond was now faced with retreat and a discontented army which had not been paid and this forced him to return to Italy, while Alexius mopped up his garrisons. In the summer of 1083 a Venetian fleet took Dyrrachium and with the fall of Kastoria to Greek forces in November it seemed that the campaign was over. In the autumn of 1084 Robert Guiscard raised another army and a fleet of 150 ships. He defeated the Venetian fleet before Corfu, which he again seized, but his army was decimated by illness on the mainland and it dissolved totally when he died in July 1085.84
The Norman war against Byzantium was a long affair. It was almost certainly prompted by the weakness of the empire at this juncture, but Guiscard had underestimated his own problems and the range of his enemies, whose various attacks sapped his army. It became a war of attrition in which both sides were desperately short of resources. After his defeat at Dyrrachium Alexius had to resort to seizure of church wealth to raise another army. Bohemond, left in charge by his father, prosecuted a skilful campaign. The Normans continued to be a strong fighting force, but their two victories over Alexius were inconclusive, as was his sole victory over them. In the end, shortages of money and men were more acute on the Norman side than on the Greek, but it was a close-run affair. It is remarkable that the Normans of South Italy could sustain such an effort at all in the circumstances. Certainly the campaign made Bohemond’s name as a soldier.
The campaigns of William the Conqueror and Robert Guiscard were, however, somewhat unusual for the ferocity with which they were fought and the readiness of both sides to resort to battle. When the Conqueror died in 1087 he divided his land between his sons. Robert Curthose held Normandy and William II ‘Rufus’ became king of England. The third son, Henry, was given money which he used to found a lordship in the Cotentin. These dispositions were soon challenged by the brothers, each of whom hoped to gain the whole inheritance of his father. When Rufus died in a hunting accident in 1099 the youngest brother, Henry, took up the challenge with ultimate success, for he seized the English throne and then Normandy with the victory of Tinchebrai in 1106. In nearly twenty years of war Tinchebrai was the only major battle. In the first stage of the conflict, Odo of Bayeux conspired with many of the nobility of England against the king, and Robert Curthose sent Robert of Bellême and Eustace of Boulogne who seized Pevensey and Rochester. However, he failed to raise an expedition to support them and the plot fizzled out. In the next phase, William, with his far greater resources, set about seducing the duke’s vassals and thereby securing castles as bases. It was in eastern Normandy north of the Seine that William concentrated his efforts from 1089 onwards, building a strong position. Robert’s counter-offensive was supported by King Philip of France who, however, allowed himself to be bought off by William. In November 1090, the English king was able to take advantage of factional struggles in Rouen and all but seized the city. It was not until 1091 that William came in person to the scene of this desultory fighting and raiding, which were brought to an end in February 1091 by a peace between the warring brothers. This gave William a strong position in Normandy, in part at the expense of Henry’s lands in the Cotentin and inaugurated a period of rapprochement during which the two brothers tried to impose order in Normandy.85 By 1093, however, the two brothers were again at war and the following year William led a strong army into Normandy. This time Robert waged quite a successful campaign against William and his allies, seizing important castles and threatening his long-established hold on eastern Normandy, until Philip of France was once again bought off with English bribes. It was probably in anticipation of this campaign that in 1093 William met Robert II of Flanders and concluded a treaty under which the count of Flanders undertook to supply mercenaries to the English king. In the end, the English campaign came to a halt when Robert Curthose took the cross. Abbot Jarento of St Bénigne, the papal legate, then negotiated an arrangement whereby Robert pawned the duchy to William for three years for the sum of 10,000 marks. This freed Robert Curthose to join the crusade and provided finances for him.
The men who went on the First Crusade were clearly familiar with the eternal verities of war – above all the need to seize food and deprive your enemies of it. In the context of eleventh-century society, that meant a war of position against castles which guarded lands and lordships, in which battle was to be avoided in favour of attrition. The strength of castles could be challenged by siege, and specialised equipment for this purpose was devised, but more often it was circumvented by raiding which brought the knight, whose mobility and heavy equipment prepared him for every eventuality to the fore. The manorial system, which underpinned this warring world, enabled its masters to sustain and organise warfare over long periods of time. Even at the most trivial levels we have noted, fighting often went on for years. Kings and great lords had the economic capacity to make very considerable military efforts, like the conquest of England or the German expeditions to Italy, which must excite our admiration. They could draw on large reserves of trained manpower from within and without their borders – a wide and rather ill-defined range of people were able to raise their sons in the skills of war and for them almost any war could exert enormous attractions. It was as lances for sale that Normans had emigrated to South Italy at the very beginning of the eleventh century; knights were attracted to war for the pay and the profits and, one is tempted to add, the pleasure. For plunder and ravaging were not merely a way of war, they were a way of life against which the church’s injunctions made little headway. The expedition to the east proclaimed by Pope Urban in 1095 offered an outlet for this drive, reinforced by a sense of righteousness. Some of its leaders were experienced in command. Robert Curthose had fought a long and bitter war, while Godfrey had participated in major expeditions and battles. By contrast Stephen of Blois, Hugh of Vermandois and Robert of Flanders were relatively untried while the count of Toulouse had risen to power in different circumstances. Bohemond alone had commanded a large army and had knowledge of eastern methods of fighting. The real challenge for all of them, however, was working together, for of that none of them had any real experience. Urban II provided an able Legate, Adhémar of Le Puy, who had military experience, but he never appointed a single commander. That was the problem which the leaders had to resolve.
1 The accounts of William of Jumièges p. 123 and WP, pp. 16–18 say almost nothing about Val-ès-Dunes. Wace’s account has very graphic incidents, some of which may reflect actual events, but tells us nothing of the course of the battle. Guy of Burgundy was the younger son of the marriage between Raynald count of Burgundy and Adelaide, daughter of Richard II of Normandy (996–1026), who therefore had a claim to Normandy against the illegitimate William: Glaber, p. 106 n. 2; for the history of the duchy in these years see D. C. Douglas, William the Conqueror (London, 1964).
2 Douglas, William the Conqueror, pp. 55–9. William’s son Robert later was betrothed to Margaret and, even though she died, assumed the title count of Maine: David, Robert Curthose, pp. 7–10; WP, p. 38.
3 This account of events is drawn from Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, pp. 149–51 whose careful study establishes the generalship of William, on which see also J. Beeler, ‘Towards a re-evaluation of medieval English generalship’, Journal of British Studies, 3 (1963), 1–10.
4 See above p. 42. On the succession dispute in Anjou on the death of Geoffrey Martel in 1060 see O. Guillot, Le Comte d’Anjou et son entourage au xie siècle (Paris, 1972), 2 vols., i. 102–116; L. Halphen, Le Comté d’Anjou au xie siècle (Paris, 1906, Geneva, 1974), pp. 133–51.
5 Glaber, pp. 138–9, testifies frequently to the good relations between the Capetian kings and the Norman dukes, for example in the matter of the Orléans heresy. It was precisely because of these good relations that he tells us so little about the duchy and its politics: J. France, ‘Rodulfus Glaber and French politics in the early eleventh century’, Francia, 16 (1989), 111. Duke Robert of Normandy gave Henry I (1031–60) support when his vassals rose against him: J. Dhondt, ‘Une crise du pouvoir capétien’, in D. P. Blok et al. eds., Miscellanea Medievalia in Memoriam J. F. Niermeyer137–48.
6 France, ‘Glaber and French politics’, 109.
7 J. Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, pp. 151–53 describes these events very clearly; for Wace, see above p. 36, n. 29.
8 OV, 2. 282–3; William of Jumièges, p. 25; Gislebert of Mons, Chronique, ed. L. Vanderkinadere (Brussels, 1904), p. 7; Annales Egmundani MGH SS 16. 447; Flandria Generosa, MGH SS 9. 322; Lambert of Hersfeld, p. 124.
9 C. Verlinden, Robert I Le Frison, Comte de Flandre (Antwerp/Paris/’S Gravenhage, 1935) pp. 46–70.
10 It is not certain who held the castle of Cassel. Verlinden, Robert le Frison, p. 66, suggests Arnulf, though its castellan Boniface was in Robert’s force. A. Fliche, Le règne de Phillippe I roi de France 1060–1108 (Paris, 1912), pp. 258–9 thinks, therefore, that Robert held it.
11 Verlinden, Robert le Frison, pp. 70–71, 80–6; on family relationships see Bur, Comté de Champagne, pp. 128–9, 286–7. For Baldwin of Hainault’s death see AA. pp. 434–5; Guibert of Nogent, Gesta Dei per Francos, RHC Oc. 4. [hereafter cited as GN], p. 208.
12 Roger of Hovenden, Chronica Magistri Rogeris de Hovenden, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols. (London, Rolls Series, 1871) (hereafter cited as RH), 4. 59. I must thank my colleague in the Swansea History department, I. W. Rowlands, for this reference: on Richard as a general see Gillingham, ‘Richard I’, pp. 78–91.
13 There is a vast literature on Hastings amongst which the classic accounts of Delbrück, History of the Art of War, 3. 146–61 and Oman, Art of War, 1. 151–66 have had enormous influence. For more recent accounts see Douglas, William the Conqueror, pp. 194–204; C. N. Barclay, Battle 1066(London, 1966); C. H. Lemmon, ‘The Campaign of 1066’, in eds. D. Whitelock et al. The Norman Conquest, its Setting and Impact, (London, 1966); J. Beeler, Warfare in England 1066–1189 (Cornell, 1966), pp. 11–33; France, ‘La guerre dans la France féodale,’ 23–6; R. A. Brown, The Normans and the Norman Conquest (London, 1969), pp. 158–76, ‘The Battle of Hastings’, 1–21, The Battle of Hastings and the Norman Conquest (London, 1982). This is not a definitive list.
14 WP, pp. 148–9, 156–7, 160–1.
15 I follow here the conclusions of E. M. C. van Houts, ‘The ship list of William the Conqueror’, Battle, 10 (1987), 159–84, which contains an edition of the ship-list; Wace 2. 112–14 quoted and tr. by van Houts, p. 162.
16 J. Martindale, ‘Aimeri of Thouars and the Poitevin connection’, Battle, 7 (1984), 224–5; G. Beech, ‘Participation of Aquitainians in the conquest of England 1066–1100’, Battle 9 (1986), 1–24.
17 Wace 3, 6, 411–16, quoted by M. Bennett, ‘Wace and Warfare’, Battle, 11 (1988), 37–58.
18 B. S. Bachrach, ‘Some observations on the military administration of the Norman Conquest’, Battle, 8 (1985), 12 suggests that there is a ‘scholarly consensus’ on these numbers; Douglas, William the Conqueror, p. 188.
19 WP, pp. 152–3.
20 Bachrach, ‘Observations on the Norman Conquest’, 12–15; these are only estimates, but they effectively indicate the scale of the problem as Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, p. 56, points out; BT, Pl. 38.
21 R. H. C. Davies, The Medieval Warhorse: Origins, Development and Redevelopment (London, 1989); ‘Warhorses of the Normans’, 67–82.
22 R. P. Lindner, ‘Nomadism, Horses and Huns’, Past and Present, 92 (1981), 3–19 points to the problems of supporting large numbers of horses beyond the great plains without substantial infrastructure.
23 Terraine, The White Heat, p. 97.
24 van Houts, ‘Ship-list’, pp. 179, 163.
25 BT, pl. 40–44. On the nature of the fleet and its gathering see the very learned article by C. M. Gillmor, ‘Naval logistics of the cross-channel operation 1066’, Battle, 7 (1984), 105–31. D. Waley, ‘Combined operations in Sicily 1060–78’, Proceedings of the British School at Rome, 22 (1954), 124–35 suggested that William could have gained knowledge of the specialised Byzantine horse-transports from South Italy, but this is not usually accepted and the evidence of the BT is against; J. H. Pryor, ‘Transportation of horses by sea during the era of the crusades’, Mariners Mirror, 68.1 (1982), 9–27, 68.2 (1982), 103–25; B. S. Bachrach, ‘On the origins of William the Conqueror’s horse transports’, Technology and Culture, 26 (1985), 505–31. On the navigational and related problems see; J. Neumann, ‘Hydrographic and ship-hydrodynamic aspects of the Norman invasion, AD 1066’, Battle, 11 (1988), 221–243.
26 And very gentle it must have been. Neumann, p. 234, suggests about 3.5 knots over a very flat sea, rare conditions in the Channel as the allies discovered in 1944. More severe conditions would surely have led to losses such as occurred in the passage from Dives to St Valéry according to William of Poitiers, p. 161.
27 WP, pp. 154–7.
28 On the Anglo-Saxon army see C. W. Hollister, Anglo-Saxon Military Institutions on the Eve of the Norman Conquest (Oxford, 1962). The notion that a special corps of housecarls formed an élite amongst the retainers is rejected convincingly by N. Hooper, ‘Housecarls in England in the eleventh century’, Battle, 7 (1984), 161–76. The poorly armed troops in the Tapestry are evidence that peasants continued to serve in the host.
29 Only R. Glover, ‘English warfare in 1066’, English Historical Review, 67 (1952), 1–18 has maintained that the English had cavalry and this has been decisively rebutted by Brown, Normans and the Norman Conquest, p. 94. However, it is interesting that J. Kiff, ‘Images of war – illuminations of warfare in early eleventh century England’, Battle, 7 (1984), 177–94, finds that the designers of the BT drew on an earlier tradition of representations of fighting horses. The scorn of the Normans for this style of war is well known: ‘A race ignorant of war, the English scorn the solace of horses and, trusting in their strength they stand fast on foot’, Carmen, 369–70, pp. 24–5.
30 ASC, C. D 141–2, 140 E.
31 Brown, Normans and the Norman Conquest, pp. 143–4 contrasts the failure of Harold and the success of William in this respect. ASC, C, p. 143 says that the coming of the Norwegians surprised Harold but this perhaps refers to the timing. Both invasion armies were very late in the season.
32 For the claims of Harald Hardrada and the disloyalty of Harold’s brother Tosti see Brown, Normans and the Norman Conquest, upon whose chronology I have relied in this account.
33 D. Waley, ‘Combined operations in Sicily 1060–78’, 118–25; Chalandon, 1. 191–3.
34 Chalandon 1. 186–90; Amatus of Monte-Cassino, Amato di Monte Cassino, ed. V. Bartholomaeis (Rome, 1935) 5, xxviii p. 164, [hereafter cited as Amatus].
35 Chalandon 1. 205–208.
36 K. J. Leyser, Medieval Germany and its Neighbours (London, 1982) pp. 76, 89–90.
37 AA, 440; Vita Heinrici IV Imperatoris, ed. W. Eberhard (Hanover, 1899), p. 23. La Chronique de Zimmern, ed. H. Hagenmyer, Archives de l’Orient Latin, 2 (1884) p. 24 suggests that Godfrey played a major role in the siege of Rome in 1081 and was later ill, but this work has been criticised, on which see below p. 92, no. 36.
38 B. H. Hill, Medieval Monarchy in Action (New York, 1972), pp. 73–5; for Godfrey’s participation see above pp. 63; B. Arnold, German Knighthood 1050–1300 (Oxford, 1985), pp. 50, 81, 86, 97; R. P. Grossman, The Financing of the Crusades, unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Chicago, 1965, pp. 6–7.
39 On the German Indiculus see the comments above p. 63; J. H. Round, ‘Introduction of knight service into England’, Feudal England (London, 1895) was the great proponent of the notion of a veritable revolution in which William imported feudalism: modern thinking has tended to suggest that it came into existence over a period of time becuase there was no such coherent body of feudal ideas as Round supposed – on which see M. Chibnall, ‘Military service in Normandy before 1066’, Battle, 5 (1982), 65–77; ON THE likelihood of a continuation of a preconquest form of quotas and obligation based on negotiations between the English king and his followers see Gillingham, ‘Introduction of knight service’, 53–64; D. R. Cook, ‘The Norman military revolution in England’, Battle, 1 (1978), 94–102.
40 On mercenaries and the king see the seminal article of J. O. Prestwich, ‘War and finance in the Anglo-Norman state’, TRHS 4 (1954), 19–43; J. Schlight, Monarchs and Mercenaries (Bridgeport, 1968); S. D. B. Brown, ‘The mercenary and his master: military service and monetary reward in the eleventh and twelfth century’, History, 74 (1989), 20–38.
41 M. Prestwich, ‘Military household of the Norman kings’, English Historical Review, 96 (1981), 1–37; M. Chibnall, ‘Mercenaries and the “Familia Regis” under Henry I’, History, 62 (1977), 15–23.
42 For the text of the treaty of 1101 Diplomatic Documents preserved in the Public Record Office 1. (1101–1272) ed. P. Chaplais (London, 1964) no. 1; on Rufus’s treaty Barlow, William Rufus, p. 325.
43 Suger, pp. 8–9.
44 Dunbabin, Francein the Making, pp. 188–90; Fulk le Réchin, Fragmentum Historiae Andegavensis, ed. L. Halphen and R. Poupardin in Chroniques des comtes d’Anjou et des seigneurs d’Amboise (Paris, 1913) p. 237 quoted and tr. J. Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, p. 147.
45 I very much doubt that William had purposely delayed his crossing waiting for the enemy army to break up as suggested by M. Chibnall in Brown, ‘Battle of Hastings’, n. 20. One has only to think of the deep preoccupation of the allies with weather in the uncertain conditions of the Channel even in 1944 to grasp that William must have awaited the weather, not hoped that it would await his greater convenience.
46 For the suggestion that William had such ships see above p. 60, n. 25; J. Neumann, ‘Hydrographic and ship-hydrodynamic aspects of the Norman invasion’, 232–4.
47 Gillmor, ‘Naval Logistics’, p. 124.
48 Douglas, William the Conqueror, pp. 191–2.
49 WP, pp. 168–9.
50 Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, p. 158, follows William of Poitier’s suggestion, p. 180–1, that the devastation caused Harold to hasten his march.
51 WP, p. 158, tr. Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, p. 157.
52 In Kent, on the way to London, his army would later run short of supplies: WP, p. 212.
53 WP, pp. 170–1.
54 OV, 2. 172–3.
55 Brown, ‘Battle of Hastings’, 8; on the battle see the accounts of Barclay and Lemmon mentioned above p. 56, n. 13 and the comments of Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, 156–8.
56 as Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard’, quite rightly insists.
57 ASC, pp. 141–3; Florence 1. 226.
58 Perhaps the point of the Carmen’s story, p. 25, of the Saxons dashing forth from the forests is that Harold unexpectedly managed to rally his surprised force.
59 WP, p. 195.
60 As noted above p. 35 the BT shows a single English archer, Pl. 61.
61 The source for this division of the Norman army is the Carmen, vv. 413–14 upon whose account much doubt has been cast: R. H. C. Davis, ‘Carmen de Hastingae Proelio’, English Historical Review, 93 (1978), 241–61; ‘The Carmen de Hstingae Proelio: a discussion’, Battle, 2 (1979) 1–20. However, its value as a contemporary, though very literary, source has been effectively restated by E. M. C. van Houts, ‘Latin poetry and the Anglo-Norman court 1066–1135: the Carmen de Hastingae Proelio’, Journal of Medieval History, 15 (1989), 38–62.
62 WP, p. 186 says that the Danes had sent much help.
63 WP, pp. 186–9 testifies to the effectiveness of the English as soldiers. Perhaps the two-handed axe was particularly effective (see BT, Pl. 62): Pierce, ‘Arms and armour’, 245–6.
64 WP, pp. 190–3, 194–5; the use of the feigned retreat at Hastings has often been doubted but it seems to have been a well-established tactic of cavalry in the eleventh century, on which see B. S. Bachrach, ‘The feigned retreat at Hastings’, Medieval Studies, 33 (1971), 344–7.
65 WP, pp. 198–9, 202–5.
66 On the use of the lance see: D. J. A. Ross, ‘L’originalité de ‘Turoldus’: le maniement de lance’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 6 (1963), 127–38; V. Cirlot, ‘Techniques guerrières en Catalogne féodale; le maniement de la lance’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 28 (1985), 36–43 who argues for a date later in the twelfth century; J. Fiori, ‘Encore l’usage de la lance: la technique du combat vers l’an 1100’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 31 (1988), 213–40 who argues for an earlier date; on the development suggested here see below p. 73. On the size of horses see below pp. 372–3.
67 Brown, ‘Battle of Hastings’, 16, suggests that the discipline of the Norman army and its coherence were based on the groupings of five or ten knights called conroi, which are known to have existed in the twelfth century: J. F. Verbruggen, ‘La tactique militaire des armées de chevaliers’, Revue du Nord, 29 (1947), 161–80. I think it is likely that such units emerged on the model of vassal-groupings which formed an important element of armies in the eleventh century, and perhaps largely as a result of the need to order mercenaries being used on an ever greater scale. Men were used to fighting alongside their neighbours. Much of the army of 1066 was, effectively, mercenary and large groups of such men would have needed a parallel organisation, but we do not known precisely how they were used.
68 WP, pp. 194–5.
69 OV, 6. 350–1.
70 Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, ed. T. Arnold (London, 1879) [hereafter cited as HH], p. 235 and see below pp. 372–3.
71 J. F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in the Middle Ages, tr. S. Willard and S. C. M. Southern (Amsterdam, 1977), pp. 192–3.
72 Quoted by Lourie, ‘A society organised for war’, 70.
73 R. H. C. Davis, ‘Warhorses of the Normans’, 69, 80–81 and see also his book The Medieval Warhorse. In these two works the difficulties of breeding really good strains of horse in medieval conditions are carefully explored.
74 G. Jackson, Medieval Spain (London, 1972), PL 36; D. Nicolle, Early Medieval Islamic Arms and Armour (Madrid, 1976), Pl. 41; Fiori, ‘Encore l’usage de la lance’, 220–1; V. Cirlot, ‘Techniques guerrières an Catalogne féodale’, 36–43.
75 France, ‘La Guerre dans la Fance féodale’, 197–8.
76 Gillingham, ‘Knight service’, 55; he also cites OV, 2. 218: ‘For in the lands of the English there were very few of those fortifications which the French call castles; in consequence the English, for all their martial qualities and valour, were at a disadvantage when it came to resisting their enemies’; however there were fortifications in Anglo-Saxon England: G. Beresford, ‘Goltho Manor Lincolnshire; the building and the surrounding defences c. 850–1150’, Battle, 4 (1981), 13–36, and note also E. Roesdahl, ‘Danish geometrical fortresses and their context’, Battle, 9 (1986), 209–26. On the later stages of the Conquest see OV, 2. 221–37 and for its horrors 231–33; W. E. Kapelle, The Norman Conquest of the North (London, 1979).
77 F. Chalandon, Essai sur le règne d’Alexis I Comnène (1081–1118) (Paris, 1900, New York, 1971), pp. 51–94; Domination Normande 1. 258–84.
78 See above p. 62. for the 1300 see Malaterra, p. 71.
79 Alexiad, pp. 142–3.
80 On the Anglo-Saxon participation in the Varangian guard see Godfrey, ‘The defeated Anglo-Saxons’, 63–74; S. Blondal, The Varangians of Byzantium, tr. and revised B. Benedikz (Cambridge, 1978).
81 Alexiad, pp. 145–53; Oman, Art of war, 1. 166–7; Chalandon, Alexis I Comnène, p. 79.
82 Chalandon, Alexis Comnène, pp. 87–8.
83 Chalandon, Alexis Comnène, pp. 86–7, 90; Alexiad, pp. 163–73; Yewdale, Bohemond, pp. 20–1.
84 Chalandon, Alexis Comnène, pp. 92–3.
85 David, Robert Curthose, pp. 46–51, 53–69; Barlow, William Rufus, pp. 70–98, 273–96.