The fact remained that while Glyn Dwr could claim to have laid the foundations of a Welsh state modelled on European lines, his hold on it was fragile and incomplete so long as the majority of its fortresses remained in enemy hands. The only way Owain’s dream could be turned into reality was by the capture of these garrisons. And this could only be achieved by switching from guerrilla tactics to more orthodox campaigning; but it would prove enormously difficult – given the topography of Wales, its overall poverty and the nature of Welsh warfare – to muster a conventional army or formulate a strategic plan. Throughout its course, the revolt would be characterized by local flare-ups and risings, often apparently spontaneous, under local leadership, and not having any obvious connection with an overall plan. These might well be difficult for the hard-pressed English authorities to counter, but they also did little to establish permanent rebel control of Welsh territory and could, on occasion, assume the characteristics of pure banditry.
High in Welsh priorities were raids to carry off cattle and supplies into the rebel heartlands of mountainous North and West Wales, which themselves lacked sufficient resources to maintain Glyn Dwr’s men. Equally important – and again contributing little towards an effective overall strategy – was the kidnapping and holding to ransom of English and pro-English gentry and officials. In many cases ordinary inhabitants were also seized for the same purpose, which might bring in some funds, but also carried with it the potential of alienating local communities; so, too, did the deliberate destruction of buildings of economic importance such as mills and barns.
If one of the motivations behind Welsh operations was to obtain supplies and arms, or the money with which to purchase them, efforts to reduce the network of castles upon which control of the countryside ultimately depended proved much less successful. Except on rare occasions (when they had French support, for example) the Welsh lacked equipment for regular siege warfare. The majority of castles that fell into their hands seem to have done so as a result of treachery, starvation or isolation rather than orthodox siege warfare. With the exception of Aberystwyth and Harlech, deep in the Glyn Dwr heartland, few of the castles that did fall remained in Welsh hands for long, while the majority were never taken at all.
The castle would be the key to the eventual recovery of English control in Wales. The initial large-scale chevauchées by the king and some of his commanders, while possibly having more success than they are sometimes credited with, lacked the methodical sustained persistence that had characterized the operations of King Edward I during his Welsh wars of 1277 and 1282-1283. They certainly dampened rebel activity temporarily, but failed to extinguish it.
During the earlier part of Henry’s reign shortage of money, the reluctance of commanders and men to serve in Wales and other distractions – notably the threats from the Scots, the Percys and the French – prevented the development of any coherent strategy in Wales, beyond one of desperately holding onto the castles.
Wales would never be a theatre of war that offered tempting prospects of glory and rich booty to the English military aristocracy. It would be left to men of more humble origins, the constables of the castles and the captains of the troops quartered in them, to wage the prolonged war of attrition that would gradually turn the tide. They – and some regional leaders such as Richard, Lord Grey of Codnor and Gilbert Talbot of Goodrich Castle – would bear the brunt of a decade or more of grinding, unspectacular, small-scale campaigning.
Between 1403 and 1405 the English authorities could do little beyond trying to contain the rebellion, and, with little success, to curb Welsh raids into the English border counties. Large garrisons were placed in Marcher strongholds such as Oswestry, Montgomery, Welshpool and Brecon. Possibly because it was in part protected by the River Dee, Cheshire does not seem to have suffered as badly from the effects of Welsh raiders as did Shropshire and Herefordshire. Throughout these early years English counter-attacks found it difficult to engage an illusive foe, although Welsh lands and property were devastated in turn, probably at times with as little enquiry into the allegiance of the owners as the Welsh displayed in their turn. It was a ruthless war, in which little quarter was given by either side.
It was only possession of the network of castles that, during these early years, prevented the total collapse of English rule throughout Wales. While it would be too much to assume that such a collapse would have gained the Welsh their aim of independence, it would certainly have made the process of English reconquest prolonged and difficult. It has been estimated that in 1400 between 100 and 120 castles in Wales and the Marches were in reasonable defensive condition. Many others, after long decades of peace, were more or less neglected or had become little more than poorly fortified residences. On the outbreak of the rebellion, many urgent repairs began. Initially the castles provided places of refuge for English settlers and Welsh loyalists. But they became bases from which patrols could be mounted and, later, would act as starting points for systematic reoccupation of the surrounding countryside. Consequently, it was vital for Glyn Dwr to break up the network of garrisons. And with the aim of forming a state to rank alongside its European counterparts, he had no option but to move towards more conventional warfare in an effort to achieve this objective. It may well be that he relied upon the arrival of French military aid in order to make this possible. But 1405 dawned with no substantial aid having yet arrived. It may have been this that forced the Welsh into a high-risk strategy of their own.
Early in the year reports began to grow that there would be a major Welsh spring offensive headed by the redoubtable Rhys Gethin in Herefordshire. As usual, lack of funds hindered effective countermeasures – even the garrisons of the royal fortresses of North Wales remained seriously depleted.
On the morning of 11 March a large Welsh force – probably overestimated in English reports as being 8,000 strong – attacked the small town and castle of Grosmont in the Monnow valley. The Welsh burned the town, possibly preparatory to an attack on the castle, but were easily surprised by a small English mounted force under Gilbert Talbot and Sir John Grendor. Although they were probably not greatly outnumbered as English sources claimed, the troops clearly took the enemy by surprise, probably in a sudden sally from the castle, and completely routed them. Between 800 and 1,000 Welsh were supposedly killed with no prisoners being taken, apart from one ‘great chieftain’ who was badly hurt. It may have been Rhys Gethin himself, as he does not seem to appear in contemporary accounts thereafter.
It was Glyn Dwr’s first serious reverse and some of the Welsh on the borders of Herefordshire now made terms. But the struggle for Wales, and indeed for the English throne, was far from over. In February, King Henry had suffered another unwelcome reminder of how ‘uneasily’ rested his crown.
If the Percys were temporarily quiet, Sir Edmund Mortimer remained at large in Wales and his nephew, Edmund, Earl of March, was, for many, the rightful claimant to the English throne. Edmund and his brother Richard were in honourable captivity at Windsor when, in February 1405 – following on from a plot to murder the king, allegedly involving the Duke of York – Lady Despencer spirited the boys out of captivity and headed for the Welsh border. They were recaptured near Cheltenham but the episode illustrated that opposition to the new regime remained.
Meanwhile, in the north of England, after Parliament had declined to authorize the Earl of Northumberland being granted lands of equivalent value to his surrendered castles, Berwick and Jedburgh had been nominally restored to him, but had actually been left under the control of royal constables. In February 1405 – though not yet known in England – came clear evidence that Northumberland was again plotting treason. It is generally agreed by historians that it was during that month, in the house of the Archdeacon of Bangor at Aberdaron, that a Tripartite Indenture was sealed by representatives of Glyn Dwr, Sir Edmund Mortimer and the Earl of Northumberland. The three men agreed a formal alliance and a three-way division of the kingdom. The Mortimers – presumably with the younger Edmund having the title of king – were to have Southern England, the Earl of Northumberland the North and deep into the Midlands, while Glyn Dwr would rule a Welsh principality extending to the Severn and the sources of the Trent and Mersey and thence to the sea. It may be doubted how long such a division of the realm would have survived without conflict breaking out among the victorious parties, or indeed whether it could ever have come into effect, but it was further evidence of the dangers the Lancastrian regime still faced.
In an interesting indication of the average size of contemporary armies, in June 1405 Prince Henry was to command a force in North Wales totalling 3,000 archers. In South Wales the king would lead 144 men-at-arms and 720 archers. In May the Welsh suffered another setback in a serious defeat at Pwyl Nelyn near Usk, when it was claimed that the rebels lost 1,500 men, among them Owain’s brother Tudur, at first mistaken for Glyn Dwr himself. Owain’s son Gruffydd was captured. Around the same time – perhaps captured at sea on their way back from France – John Hanmer, Owain’s brother-in-law, Gruffydd Yonge and Owain’s secretary were also taken. These reverses were significant, though not yet decisive, setbacks for Glyn Dwr, and there seemed a possibility that a successful summer campaign by the king and Prince Henry might finally gain the upper hand. But Glyn Dwr would be reprieved by events elsewhere.
The Earl of Northumberland had been biding his time. In January 1405 he excused himself from attending the Royal Council at Westminster on the grounds of age and poor health, once again – perhaps ominously – signing his letter to the king as ‘your Matthias’. In March, however, Northumberland did attend a royal council. But soon afterwards he was joined in the north by emissaries from Glyn Dwr and by Thomas, Lord Bardolph, an East Anglian magnate with close connections by marriage to both the Mortimers and the Percys.
Northumberland’s own role in what now followed is unclear. But by the end of April discontent in the north – triggered as much by high taxation as clearly defined pro-Ricardian or Percy sentiment – had flared into rebellion. An attempt to seize Henry’s chief supporter in the area, Richard Neville, Earl of Westmoreland, was narrowly thwarted.
One of the leaders of the plot was Richard Scrope, Archbishop of York.
Hitherto, Scrope had been viewed as a politician rather than a devout churchman, and had actively assisted in the legal process of deposing King Richard. However, Scrope’s family was closely connected by marriage with the Percys and in 1403 Hotspur and Worcester claimed to have his support, although Scrope had apparently extricated himself from the allegation. But in the early summer of 1405, accompanied by the earl marshal, he openly showed his hand.
It is highly likely that he was involved in drawing up the unsigned declaration posted on the great door of York Minster, restating the demands of the Percys in 1403, complaining of illegal taxation, calling for the restoration of the ‘rightful’ monarch (presumably the Earl of March) and a settlement with Glyn Dwr. Although Northumberland himself ostensibly remained aloof, many of his adherents and tenants took up arms, and Scrope gathered about 8,000 armed men in York, many of them village priests and their parishioners. A force of similar size was mustering on the Percy estates in North Yorkshire, but was intercepted by loyalists at Topcliffe (while awaiting the arrival of Northumberland himself) and easily dispersed. Another royalist force, under the Earl of Westmoreland, took up position on Shipton Moor, about 6 miles north-west of York, and a stand-off with the rebels in the city followed.
On 29 May, after three days of stalemate, the opposing forces faced each other. In an echo of events at Shrewsbury two years earlier, Westmoreland offered to meet the rebel leaders to discuss their grievances, apparently hinting that he sympathized with them. Against the advice of his fellow rebels, Scrope himself went to meet Westmoreland and, in circumstances that remain unclear, he and the other principal rebel leaders were arrested, having first, under the impression that agreement had been reached, persuaded their men to disperse.
A furious King Henry, marching north in person to quell the rebellion, refused a meeting with Scrope and the other principal rebel leader, the earl marshal. Despite the remonstrances of the archbishop of Canterbury, both men were taken before a hastily summoned commission, which summarily condemned them to death. Both were executed under the walls of York and Scrope’s decapitated body buried in York Minster.
It may be that Henry had acted in haste and anger, and he certainly seems to have been severely affected psychologically. The same night that Scrope was executed, the king rode through rain and storm to lodge for the night near York. During the night, Henry awoke screaming: ‘Traitors! You have thrown fire over me!’ Although suggestions that the king was stricken by leprosy seem unlikely, he clearly was afflicted with some kind of skin problem – possibly a nervous reaction to what had happened. It may have signalled the beginning of what would prove to be a gradual decline in his health.
Initially, Henry seems to have hoped for reconciliation with the Earl of Northumberland, possibly because he was uncertain of the degree of his involvement with the uprising. But Northumberland had withdrawn to the Berwick area, where he was believed to be mustering men. On 11 June the earl’s property, along with that of Lord Bardolph was declared to be forfeit, and the king’s troops marched north in strength to crush the last embers of revolt. On 19 June the king was at Durham, two days later he reached Newcastle. From here Henry prepared to move north to deal with the earl.
Langley Castle, near Hayden Bridge, surrendered without a fight, as did Prudhoe Castle, 11 miles from Newcastle. By 27 June the king was within a few miles of Northumberland’s principal residence of Warkworth Castle. It and nearby Alnwick Castle were summoned to surrender. The garrison of Alnwick responded that the king should capture Berwick first. The captain of Warkworth refused outright to surrender. Henry brought up cannon and other siege equipment. After several shots had been fired, the garrison yielded and were allowed to march out, suggesting that their resistance had been a face-saving device rather than serious defiance.
Northumberland himself, with 300 men, was still outside Berwick, but was now admitted by the mayor, who later claimed to be ignorant of the rebellion. The earl offered to hand the town over to the Scots, in return for their support, but this came to nothing. On receiving a guarantee of personal safety, however, he and Bardolph fled across the border into Scotland to join his heir, Hotspur’s 2-year-old son.
Berwick Castle refused to surrender to King Henry, who brought up cannon. The defences of the town and castle were in poor repair. A 40-yard breach was opened on the south side of the castle and a continued bombardment soon caused the garrison to seek terms. A number of rebels in the town and castle were executed. By 14 July Alnwick had surrendered and the revolt in the North seemed completely crushed. But events in the North had given Glyn Dwr a valuable breathing-space.
He had, with increasing desperation, been awaiting the promised French assistance. On 15 July the levies of Gloucester, Bristol and Somerset had been ordered to South Wales. Soon afterwards news arrived of a French landing at Milford Haven and the king ordered all the levies of the border counties to rendezvous at Hereford. On 22 August the king reached Worcester.
Glyn Dwr reportedly had begun the summer in a pessimistic mood. A second Parliament had been summoned to meet at Harlech, and according to some possibly over-sanguine English intelligence reports, was considering making terms if French assistance did not arrive.
The French expedition, which finally set sail in July, was largely a private enterprise scheme headed by the Lord of Hugerville and Jean de Reux, Marshal of France. A force of 800 men-at-arms, 600 crossbowmen, and 1,200 light infantry was mustered and embarked on a fleet of 120 ships. Despite storms in the Channel, which cost them nearly all of their horses due to lack of fresh water, the French arrived off Milford Haven early in August. They rendezvoused with Glyn Dwr and up to 10,000 men. Even if the actual Welsh total was less, it is clear that Glyn Dwr had made a supreme, perhaps all or nothing, effort.
Bombards
Although lighter pieces of artillery were occasionally employed in battle, apparently to little effect, the heavier guns used in siege warfare were most commonly of the type known as ‘bombards’. The term was first employed around 1380 to denote a heavy siege piece, which normally fired stone balls. The best-known example in Britain was the Scottish bombard known as ‘Mons Meg’, which could fire shot weighing 396 pounds.
Although bombards could be effective, their use during the early part of the fifteenth century in England and Wales was not notably successful. Although none of the great Edwardian castles succumbed to bombardment, they provided the future Henry V with valuable experience which he utilized later in his conquest of Normandy, when a combination of guns and catapult-type siege engines – notably the trebuchet – proved relatively effective. Even then, however, many French garrisons resisted until starvation brought about their surrender.
The Franco-Welsh force advanced on the Flemish settlement at Haverfordwest, taking and burning the town, although the castle held out. The allied expedition then moved against Tenby, laying siege to the castle. But an English fleet entered the harbour and burned fifteen French ships. The Franco-Welsh army moved on to Carmarthen, whose garrison of twenty-eight men-at-arms and 100 archers surrendered on terms. The town was burnt and its defences slighted, before Glyn Dwr and his allies marched on eastwards through Glamorgan, burning and plundering as they went, crossing Herefordshire and coming within 10 miles of Worcester. The king led his forces out from Worcester to meet them. The invaders took up position on Woodbury Hill, probably around an ancient hill fort on its summit. A stand-off followed, with the royal forces on high ground divided from Glyn Dwr by a shallow valley. Daily skirmishes and single combat between opposing knights and men-at-arms took place. Around 200 men on both sides were reported to have been killed. Among the French dead were three knights. However, neither army was willing to risk the outcome of a full-scale battle and lack of supplies forced the invaders to retreat into Wales, with Henry too weak, or too cautious, to pursue. Though nobody knew at the time, Glyn Dwr had made his greatest effort and had failed. He would never again pose such a serious threat.
By 10 September the king had received sufficient funds to take the offensive. Much of South East Wales had submitted to the English again, in the delicate balancing act performed by local communities in an effort to preserve themselves from destruction. The king embarked upon what would prove to be his final Welsh expedition in person. He relieved Coity Castle in Glamorgan but then retreated, suffering his customary mauling at the hands of bad weather and Welsh guerrillas. Once again it seemed that a year of campaigning had ended in stalemate.