Henry the Young King, 1155-1183

by Matthew Strickland

  In a world where prestige and status were measured not only by conspicuous consumption in dress, equipment and at table but also by the size and excellence of one’s retinue, the great lords competed to hire the best knights for their teams. In such a bidding war, the Young King’s wealth put him at a great advantage, and his extravagant generosity meant that knights flocked to his banner. As the History noted: ‘No amount of expense would stop the King enticing to his side any good, valiant and experienced knight who could be found, for in his generosity, high exploits (par largesse e par bien feire) and all other fine qualities he surpassed all princes’.35 It was this patronage of knights that, in the eyes of the author of the History, made the Young King the very model of chivalry, ‘for at that time men of high rank were doing nothing for any young nobleman (bachiler). But he was the flower and cream of men as regards keeping worthy followers in his service; for he wanted all of these to be with him.’36 As a result, claimed the History, the other great lords, and especially Count Philip of Flanders, followed his example, ‘for they saw very well that neither king nor count could raise his standing except through the worthy men he had with him’. In reality, the Young King was merely following the well-established practice of other great lords. Gilbert of Mons notes, for example, how, as a new knight, Count Baldwin of Hainault had ‘sought tournaments everywhere and attached to himself whatever virtuous knights and companions and household knights of great name that he could’.37 Nevertheless, the advent of the Young King certainly increased competition between the great princes, and may well have served to push up wages demanded by the best knights.38

  Among those eager to serve with the Young King was his younger brother Geoffrey of Brittany. Roger of Howden records how, immediately after he had been knighted by Henry II at Woodstock in July 1178, and evidently with his father’s approbation, Geoffrey

  crossed over to Normandy, and on the borders of Normandy and France, but also on the frontiers of other countries, he exercised his strength, and took pleasure in making himself a match for knights of reputation in arms. And he sought to acquire glory by his prowess all the more because he knew that his brothers, that is to say King Henry and Richard, count of Poitou, had increased in renown through knightly arms. They were all of one mind, namely to excel others in feats of arms, because ‘the arts of war, if not practised beforehand, are not to be had in time of necessity’.39

  This period of Geoffrey’s military apprenticeship in the tournament circuit under the Young King’s tutelage doubtless helped to strengthen the close bond between them that emerged clearly in the political crisis of 1183.

  A School of Arms: The Nature of the Tournament

  The History presents the Young King’s fortunes in the tournament as rising gradually from a run of defeats suffered in 1176 and 1177 to increasing success, achieved by greater tactical sagacity and skill. This development was naturally attributable to the sound instruction and tutoring of the Marshal, who ‘was for many a day lord and master of his lord’, though the History does not trouble to explain why it took the Marshal so long to impart such wisdom.40 Nevertheless, once lessons were learned, the Young King excelled in arms. At a tournament held between Gournay-sur-Arnode and Ressons-sur-Matz in late 1182, ‘the King performed with such vigour that his boldness and valour, his skill and his speed, gave pleasure to many, and his men performed so well that all the others, on all sides, fell silent as a result of their exploits’.41 Indeed, the combination of the young Henry’s prowess with his ability to field a side of the best knights made his teams formidable. ‘He made the whole world tremble in the battles in which he took part,’ claimed the History:

  Many a time it happened that, when he spurred on, so the companies with him spurred on too, so vigorously as they advanced that those riding towards them from the other side could not withstand their charge. And it often happened that the other side had far more men than they, and yet they were soon thrown into disarray by the mighty power of the King’s companies.42

  In actual warfare, knights rarely had the opportunity to charge in large groups, as the limited number of such actions in the recent war of 1173–74 had shown. The tournament, by contrast, provided an effective means by which to regularly practise the group drill and disciplined manoeuvre that were essential to the effective operation of units of knights.43 During the twelfth century, its essential element remained the mêlée, in which two teams of knights charged each other, then engaged in close-quarter combat, with the aim of routing the opposing team, seizing horses and capturing prisoners for ransom. A series of individual jousts known as commençailles or jostes de pladïeces might take place the day before the main tournament in a preliminary event known as the ‘vespers’.44 As these could be more easily observed and appreciated than in the press and confusion of the mêlée, such jousts were particularly favoured by younger knights seeking to make their reputation, yet combat in the mêlée was deemed worthy of greater honour.45 Though it was fast becoming a highly popular spectator sport, the mêlée itself might range over a wide area of several miles. A palisaded area known as the lists (lices) was usually erected, to protect a routed team from further attack, and these might even be guarded by infantry. Similarly, certain areas, often fenced off, were designated as ‘refuges’ (recez) in which knights could arm in safety before the combat and form up, or into which they could retire to rest.46

  On the main day of the tournament, teams of knights would be drawn up and at a given signal charge each other. Cohesion was the key to success.47 In some combats, when both sides managed to retain sufficient cohesion, there was no clear victor; at the tournament in late November 1182 held between Gournay-sur-Aronde and Ressons-sur-Matz, for example, the fighting was ended by mutual consent, although here the Young King and his team were nevertheless awarded the prize.48 More often, one side would gain a decisive advantage through greater discipline in attack. At Ressons-sur-Matz in 1176, the Young King and his conroi or troop performed well, for they ‘kept themselves serried and in close ranks’, whereas the opposing forces, through over-confidence and ill-discipline, came on ‘in too great a disarray’, never kept tight formation, and were consequently routed by the Young King’s squadron.49 ‘A man who breaks ranks too early is a fool,’ noted the History.50 Similarly, at the tournament held probably in early 1178 between Anet and Sorel, the French charged so impetuously that their conrois collided together, disrupting the effect of their impetus. The Young King allowed them to come on sufficiently for their ranks to become still more disordered, then launched a powerful charge which drove right through the French and put them to flight.51 In the pursuit, however, the Young King’s men in turn ‘lost all self-control and gave chase, so intent on booty that they left the king all alone, except for the Marshal’.52 The rout of the French had been so complete that on this occasion there were no ill consequences, but in a real battle such ‘desmesure’ or ill-discipline – which left their lord without a reserve company and thus vulnerable to counter-attack, or which left his own person exposed to danger – could have spelt disaster.53 At Lagny in 1179, the Young King’s retinue drove their opponents from the field, but they had advanced so precipitously that the king himself was left almost unattended. Promptly targeted by other groups of knights joining the field, he was subjected to sustained attack and was rescued from capture by the Marshal only with great difficulty.54

  As well as tight formation, the timing of a charge was critical to success. The History recounts how Count Philip, who had revealed himself as a ruthless pragmatist in the war of 1173–74, held back when the Young King’s powerful troop was initially engaged, and ‘only joined in the tournament when all were weary, disarrayed and disorganized’. When he was certain of the advantage, he would launch an attack on the flank of the opposing force.55 At Lagny, he ‘held back cleverly, until he saw that the time was exactly right’, and his counter-attack completely routed part of the Young King’s team led by his brother Geoffrey.56 The author of the History, ho
wever, saw no cause for censure; Count Philip’s conduct was that of a ‘man both brave and wise (proz e sages)’, and was just the kind of hard-headed approach to the art of war counselled by the Marshal himself.57 Indeed, according to the History, the Young King soon learned from Philip’s tactics, and imitated them to good effect. On one occasion, he went so far as pretending he and his men were not going to engage in a tourney, before suddenly falling upon his opponents. Such was his success that ‘after that, the King never came to the site of a tourney without availing himself of this sort of trick and deception (de ceste bole e de tel guile)’.58 This was not seen as in any way unchivalrous, for, as the History notes, ‘high valour needs to be allied to good sense’.59 Less justifiable was an incident in 1178 when, having routed their French opponents, the Young King and William Marshal broke the rules by riding into the town of Anet, which was the base for the French team and thus technically off limits. They rushed a group of infantry gathered to protect the lists and seized their commander Simon de Neuphle.60

  As in real war, further cohesion within each team was afforded by the use of distinctive war cries, blazon and banners. The Young King and his knights used the rallying cry of the dukes of Normandy, ‘Dex aïe!’ (‘God aid us!’), as well as ‘Alez lor reals!’ (‘At them, king’s men!’).61 More effective in the din of the mêlée was the visual identity provided by heraldry. By at least the 1170s, great lords carried heraldic devices on their shields, banners and horse trappers, while members of their retinues might also wear livery with their lord’s colours, device or arms. The arms of neither Henry II nor the Young King are known for certain, but the lion emblem was closely linked to Henry II and some of his courtiers, while young Henry’s uncle William FitzEmpress certainly bore a single lion rampant as his arms.62 It is probable that the Young King bore a single golden lion rampant on a red field (gules, a lion rampant or), the same arms that Richard I subsequently carried as king until he adopted the new royal arms of three lions (gules, three lions passant guardant or) in the later 1190s.63 If so, William Marshal was consciously echoing the arms of his lord, but subtly ‘differenced’, when he adopted a red lion rampant on a half-yellow, half-green background (party per pale or and vert, a lion rampant gules), which he seems to have first displayed when he appeared as a knight banneret at the great tournament of Lagny in 1179.64

  In the initial charge, known as the estor, knights aimed to strike their opponents with their lances and, if possible, unhorse them.65 At Lagny, the Young King boldly attacked a larger group of knights, ‘and the clash was so ferocious that his lance was shattered as easily as if had been made of glass’.66 Once lances were broken or discarded, close combat was joined with swords and maces.67 Such combat demanded skill in handling weapons, accomplished horsemanship and a good deal of physical strength and stamina. It was also very dangerous, the greatest risk being that an unhorsed knight might be trampled or suffocated in the press. When at a tournament between Maintenon and Nogent, probably in the summer of 1179, the count of Clermont was knocked from his horse, a fierce combat ensued between those trying to capture him and those trying to defend him. The Young King ordered his knights to withdraw a little ‘for he feared that they would constrict him so much that they would crush him with their weight’.68 Though the count was rescued, he had taken such a battering in this particularly fierce mêlée that he and his men were forced to withdraw behind the safety of a ditch to bandage their wounds.69 High mettled warhorses might throw their riders or bolt; reins could snap, saddle girths could slip or break, and even the most skilled rider might be dragged with a foot caught in the stirrup. The risks were all too clearly demonstrated when the Young King’s brother Geoffrey died of wounds received at a tournament in Paris in August 1186. Howden recorded that ‘knights coming at him from different directions had knocked to the ground with their lances both him and the horse upon which he was mounted. When he by no means wished to yield to them, he was trampled by the hooves of their horses and so violently shaken up by the hard blows of these aforesaid knights that he soon died.’70

  Though the killing or serious wounding of opponents was forbidden, there was a risk that even a rebated lance might cause a fatal injury, or that blows from maces or swords might cause broken bones or concussion. Nevertheless, the mêlée accustomed knights not only to bearing the weight of their armour in sustained action but to receiving as well as giving blows. The royal clerk Roger of Howden made the point well when, in describing the tourneying activities of the Young King and his younger brother Geoffrey in 1178 without any hint of disapproval, he enthusiastically adapted a passage from Seneca:

  Nor indeed can the athlete bring high spirit to the contest, who has never been trained to practise it. It is the man who has seen his own blood, whose teeth have rattled beneath another’s fist, who when tripped up has striven against his adversary with his entire body, and though thrown, has not lost his mettle, and who, as often as he fell has risen more determined, more bold – it is he who goes forth with ardent hopes to the combat. For valour when aroused adds greatly to itself; transitory is the glory of the mind that is subjected to terror. Without any fault of his, he who bears a burden to which he is unequal is overcome by the immensity of the weight, no matter how zealous he may be. Well is the reward paid for toil, in the temples of victory.71

  The ability to withstand repeated blows in such fighting necessitated good armour, and it is probable that it was the desire for better protection in the tournament as much as in actual warfare that stimulated the development of additional body defences worn over the mail hauberk, and often made of lighter materials such as hardened leather or baleen, and of the full-faced helm.72 The History records how in one tournament c.1179, the Marshal’s helm had been so dented by the blows he had received that he was unable to remove it without the aid of a blacksmith. Indeed, the helm’s protection was so important that one prominent method of attempting to capture an opponent in the tournament was to try and tear off his helmet; to do so was effectively the equivalent of disarming him.73 At Lagny, the Young King came close to being overwhelmed by a group of knights who succeeded in pulling off his helmet.74 Though he was extricated, another group of Flemish knights, seeing he was without a helmet, rushed to make what they thought would now be an easy capture, but were driven off by a fierce countercharge by the Marshal, which allowed the Young King to escape.75

  Such techniques highlighted the fact that the essential purpose of combat in the tournament was to take opposing knights prisoner, not to wound and still less to kill them. Once he admitted defeat, a knight would pledge his word to become his captor’s prisoner, whereupon he was released and the captor was free to rejoin the mêlée.76 Before that, however, he could be rescued by members of his own team or he might attempt escape before he could be brought to the recez. The History recounts the humorous incident of how, at Anet in 1178, the Marshal had taken the French knight Simon de Neuphle by seizing his bridle, then had ridden through the town, leading Simon on his horse as a prisoner, with the Young King following behind. Simon, however, caught a low-hanging gutter and held on as the Marshal, not looking behind, rode on, oblivious to his escape. The Young King deliberately said nothing until the Marshal commanded a squire to take his prisoner into custody, only to find a horse with an empty saddle. Only then did young Henry explain to William the means of Simon’s escape, and all burst out laughing.77

  An opponent could be captured by being either knocked from his mount or wrestled from the saddle.78 Although undertaken at a remove from the confusion of real battle, such manoeuvres gave knights essential training in the practical business of taking an opponent prisoner in combat without killing or seriously wounding him, thus helping to reinforce the custom of ransom and the chivalric expectation that a knight should spare a vanquished opponent. The capture of William the Lion and his household knights at Alnwick in 1174, despite fierce fighting, or of the earl of Leicester’s noble followers at Fornham in 1173, were vivid examples of t
his in practice. Particularly skilful tourneyers such as William Marshal could capture an opponent by riding at him at high speed, then seizing his bridle to lead him to the recez, whereby he was technically made a prisoner.79 The History vividly recounts how the Young King narrowly escaped capture at the tournament at Lagny when a group of Flemish knights surrounded him and firmly seized his bridle. Cutting his way through to his lord, the Marshal could only free him by pulling the bridle and harness completely off the Young King’s warhorse, so that his opponents had nothing by which to restrain him. Another of his retinue, William de Préaux, then put his arm around the neck of the Young King’s horse and led him away, while Henry used his shield to defend William from a rain of blows.80

  That the Young King was never captured in the many tournaments in which he fought was in large part due to the efficacy of William as his bodyguard, or so the History of William Marshal insisted. ‘He was always close to him,’ the History noted, ‘to offer help, to defend and rescue him. No man dared stretch out his hand towards him to seize him or to take his bridle, and this because of the mighty blows dealt by the Marshal, blows exceedingly mighty and dangerous.’81 The Marshal’s own success undoubtedly had much to do with his outstanding physical prowess: at a tournament at Pleurs, he was said to have ‘struck and hammered like a woodcutter on oak trees’.82 Yet he had not always fulfilled his role as bodyguard with such care. At Ressons-sur-Matz, the first of the Young King’s tournaments to be described by the History, young Henry had been angered because the Marshal, instead of fighting alongside his lord as a team player, had left the king’s troop to engage in individual feats of arms to boost his own reputation and purse.83 Young Henry upbraided his tutor in arms for thus abandoning him in the mêlée: