The Greatest Knight

by Thomas Asbridge

  Their response to this dilemma revealed the depth of their dedication to William Marshal, and underlined the intimate bonds of allegiance that united military retinues in this period. John of Earley was said to have told his compatriots that he had no desire to ‘lose the love of our lord’, the man who had ‘committed [his estate] to us to guard’, and Stephen and Jordan likewise refused to ‘[abandon] the earl’s land’. These same ties of affection and fidelity had linked Marshal himself to the Young King Henry, and his father Henry II. But the events of 1208 also suggest that the ideal of chivalry – and in particular, the intertwined notions of shame and honour – exerted an increasingly profound influence over knightly conduct.

  According to the History, Earley made ‘a magnificent speech that was full of wisdom’ in the course of this meeting. This indicates that his recorded words were intended to represent a praiseworthy example of chivalric reasoning. His declaration is particularly fascinating because it did not simply trade in abstract notions of emotion or fidelity. Instead, John suggested that he and his peers should be moved by personal interest. Two distinct forms of loss or reward hung in the balance: land and reputation. Should they follow the king’s orders, the knights would preserve their material wealth, but suffer public shame as a result – for, as Earley reputedly argued, it would be a ‘most disgraceful thing to leave the earl’s land’ and to do so would mean that ‘our own honour would be diminished’. Arguing that a knight should ‘be concerned with his honour, so that no tale of our wrongdoing can be told’, Earley concluded that enduring a loss of territory was preferable, as ‘shame lasts longer than destitution’.

  This was obviously an idealised reconstruction of the debate, and the recent actions of Philip of Prendergast and John Marshal demonstrate that not all members of the warrior class prioritised honour over power and wealth. Even so, it was the case that John, Jordan and Stephen decided to reject the king’s orders and defend Leinster in early 1208, and this choice does not seem to have been rationalised simply as an act of selfless altruism, but rather as a form of chivalric self-preservation.

  Having chosen to stand their ground, the three knights went on to consider what strategy could be employed to defeat Meiler FitzHenry. A crucial decision was made to seek an alliance with the Lacy dynasty, who held power to the north of Leinster, and Jordan of Sauqueville duly travelled to Ulster in the hope of forging a pact with Earl Hugh of Lacy. No record of their dealings survives, so it is not clear what arguments or enticements Jordan used, but his mission proved a success. Hugh marched into Leinster in support of the Marshal family with some sixty-five knights, all ‘well armed and riding chargers’, 200 men-at-arms and around 1,000 lightly equipped infantry. These significant reinforcements shifted the balance of the conflict, allowing Earl William and Countess Isabel’s men to move on to the offensive.

  There was a decisive confrontation between Meiler and Marshal’s men in early 1208, but not in the way that King John reported to William Marshal outside Guildford. The monarch’s claim that both Stephen of Évreux and John of Earley had died was a barefaced, malicious lie, designed to torment Marshal and elicit an un-courtly loss of composure. In reality, the combined might of the Marshal and Lacy forces prevailed in the Leinster war, such that, in the words of the biographer, ‘the damage that Meiler sought to do to the earl’s lands was done to him by the earl’s men, for they devastated his own property’. The justiciar was captured, along with the turncoat Philip Prendergast, whose property was also seized. Both men were forced to make peace with Countess Isabel and had to give their sons into custody as hostages, while a number of other opponents had likewise to hand over kinsmen, ‘for the earl’s men would not accept other pledges’.

  News of the actual course and outcome of this conflict finally reached England in late February or early March. Unsurprisingly, the king was apparently ‘not amused at all’ by these tidings, while William Marshal was said to have been ‘overjoyed at heart’. On 5 March, King John summoned the earl to a formal audience at Bristol, but Marshal still had to tread with exceptional care. Any attempt to shame the king over the spiteful lies spoken outside Guildford, or hint of gloating over the victory in Leinster, might alienate and enrage John. As a result, William decided to feign ignorance of the events in Ireland. In their meeting the king showed no flicker of remorse for his recent ill-treatment of Marshal, but was said to have declared: ‘I shall give you good and welcome news – your men are in fine health and spirits [as is] the countess herself.’ According to the History:

  The Marshal paid great attention to his words, as if he knew nothing about the matter, and replied in a wise and moderate manner: ‘Sire, thanks be to the Lord our God, but not for a moment did I think, on the day I left my land, that I had an enemy who would wage war on me.’

  This feat of control permitted King John to save face and draw back from continued confrontation. Official records confirm that a reconciliation was achieved later that month. In return for royal recognition of his full rights to Leinster, Marshal reaffirmed his status as John’s subject in Ireland, and conceded some powers over the appointment of bishops and legal jurisdiction to the crown. This compromise curbed Earl William’s independence in Leinster to an extent, but still left him with far more autonomy than most barons enjoyed in England. The king also wrote to Meiler, instructing him to return Offaly to Marshal without delay or argument.

  William had survived the storm. He was granted permission to return to Ireland in April 1208, but a barely submerged current of tension still coloured his relationship with John. It was probably at this point that the monarch demanded that a second hostage – Marshal’s son, Richard – be given into custody. The biographer intimated that Countess Isabel was disquieted by this ‘villainous request’, but as always, the foreboding threat of retribution forced William to comply. The wisdom of that choice would soon be made clear in the starkest terms.

  The lord of Leinster triumphant

  William Marshal returned to Ireland that spring to secure control of Leinster. Upon his arrival, the earl was greeted by John of Earley and Jordan of Sauqueville, though the former was still wearing a mail hauberk – a clear sign that the region had yet to be wholly pacified. On the following day, William was reunited with his wife Isabel at Kilkenny, who must by this stage have given birth to the child she had been carrying. The biographer recorded that the countess was intent upon exacting ‘savage revenge’ against the barons and knights who had supported Meiler, but Marshal insisted on pursuing a more measured approach. Perhaps imitating the magnanimity shown by King Henry II after the rebellions of his eldest son had been quelled in 1174 and 1183, William resisted the temptation to take direct and violent retribution, relying instead upon the force of his presence and reputation to impose order.

  He seems to have been aware that ‘there were many who greeted him’ upon his return ‘whose hearts belied their smiling countenances’, but most of the hostages held from these lords were returned. There is no record of John Marshal’s treatment in the immediate aftermath of these events, but he seems to have been swiftly forgiven for his moment of disloyalty, probably because he had not actively gone to war alongside Meiler. Some of those who betrayed the earl at Woodstock, or fought against his men in Leinster, received somewhat harsher treatment. They were said to have come before Marshal ‘in fear and trembling’, begging him for mercy ‘with tears in their eyes’. David de la Roche and Philip of Prendergast tried to declare their enduring loyalty, but John of Earley openly testified to their treachery. Though William agreed to give them the kiss of peace, both men were publically shamed. Prendergast’s son remained a hostage for at least the next seven years, while de la Roche became a social pariah. He was shunned by his peers and, in future, knights refused to sit next to him at social gatherings.

  The most severe punishment was meted out to Meiler FitzHenry, but restraint was shown even here. Meiler had to relinquish control of his major stone castle at Dunamase and concede that al
l of his lands would pass to Marshal on his own death. Hostages taken from his family were also kept for years to come. The failed plot of 1208 marked a decisive fall from royal favour for the justiciar, who was now branded a ‘cruel and savage man’ and the ‘root of all the evil done’. By early 1209, Meiler had been replaced in Ireland by a new royal justiciar – John of Gray, bishop of Norwich – and the disgraced baron lived out his remaining years in Ireland (until 1220) in abject impotence, looking on from the sidelines.

  With peace restored, William Marshal was free to continue the work of strengthening his power base in Leinster. Well-earned rewards were apportioned to his steadfast retainers. John of Earley was given land in County Kilkenny, thus establishing a settlement that still bears his name to this day – Earlytown. Jordan of Sauqueville, Stephen of Évreux and Henry Hose likewise received territories of their own. Earl William dedicated much of the next four years to the management of his Leinster estates, constructing a secure, prosperous and enduring satellite of Marshal authority in Ireland. A limited range of evidence survives for this period, but William appears to have been firm, yet fair minded, in the treatment of his own vassals, but a scourge to the neighbouring native Irish and their churchmen.* Marshal also became increasingly focused upon the need to secure advantageous marriage alliances for his children. His eldest son had already been betrothed to Alice, the daughter of Baldwin of Béthune – a long-standing ally of the family. A union between the earl’s eldest daughter Matilda and Hugh Bigod, heir to the earldom of Norfolk, was also arranged. This process of dynastic and territorial consolidation was briefly interrupted and threatened, however, in 1210, when King John sought once again to assert his will in Ireland. But on this occasion the monarch came in pursuit of a different quarry.

  A KING’S VENGEANCE

  The grim fate suffered by William of Briouze and his family offers an apposite lesson in the dangers of opposing a monarch like John. It also goes some way to highlight the mixture of astute judgement, deft skill and pure luck that had so far enabled William Marshal to negotiate a path through this most tumultuous of reigns. Briouze was Marshal’s social peer, his neighbour in Ireland and on the Welsh March, and a relatively close associate and friend. A notable royal favourite from the start of John’s reign and an unfaltering supporter of the king, Briouze had also played some part in the disappearance and likely murder of Duke Arthur of Brittany, John’s nephew, in April 1203. As time went on, Briouze also amassed a burdensome array of debts to the crown from fines owing for the lands and honours he had received. By 1208, in Ireland alone he still had 5,000 marks to pay for rights to the lordship of Munster, and £2,865 outstanding on the fine related to Limerick. This financial liability was manageable so long as one retained the king’s favour, but if John suddenly insisted on all of these monies being repaid in short order, Briouze would be placed in an impossible position.

  In the spring of 1208, William of Briouze suddenly lost his monarch’s trust and support. One cause of this estrangement may have been tangentially related to William Marshal. In March of that year the Leinster dispute was resolved, but John remained suspicious and thus seems to have requested that Marshal place another hostage into the custody of the crown. Around the same time, the king asked William of Briouze to hand over his own eldest son, perhaps as a precautionary measure, given Briouze’s known connection to Marshal. Had Briouze followed Marshal’s example in acceding to this demand, the whole incident might have passed unnoticed. But, according to the chronicler Roger of Wendover, when the king’s men arrived at the family’s estate, Briouze’s wife Matilda openly declared that she would never hand over her own sons to the man who had ‘murdered Arthur, his own nephew’. When this desperately incautious remark was reported to John, a calamitous rift opened.

  William Briouze tried to recover his position, agreeing by way of atonement to return the Marcher castles of Hay, Brecon and Radnor to the crown, but he was later accused of attacking these same fortresses and burning half of Leominster in open defiance of the king – charges that may well have been invented in order to cover John’s subsequent actions. The Briouze family’s lands were summarily confiscated and their arrests ordered. With the world fast crumbling around him, William of Briouze fled with his wife and two of his sons to Ireland, hoping to escape the king’s wrath and find refuge with Walter of Lacy, his son-in-law (through marriage to one of Briouze’s daughters).

  In the course of this flight, the Briouzes sailed to Leinster, probably in early 1209, narrowly avoiding shipwreck during a terrible winter crossing of the Irish Sea. They remained in Marshal territory for twenty days. The History acknowledged that King John ‘conceived such hatred for [Briouze]’ that ‘no peace could ever be made between them’, but the biographer refused to explain the precise cause of this enmity, stating bluntly that, ‘I do not know the reason for the banishment, nor would it be wise for me, even if I did, to speak of it or even undertake to do so.’ This wording suggests that the author of the History did at least know that a dark scandal lay at the bottom of this whole affair. Briouze must have offered some explanation to William Marshal for his sudden appearance, though it is not certain that he confessed any involvement in Duke Arthur’s disappearance at this point.

  King John’s envoys soon tracked the Briouzes to Ireland, and informed the new justiciar, John of Gray, of the order for their arrests. William Marshal was subsequently instructed to hand over Briouze and his family, and accused of having ‘housed a traitor to the king’, but Earl William tried to cover his tracks. He flatly denied all knowledge of the fact that charges had been levelled against Briouze, and stated that as the family was under the protection of his hospitality he would escort them safely beyond the boundaries of his lands. Marshal took a significant risk in refusing the justiciar’s official request, but the earl found himself in a compromising position and could hardly have guessed what would follow. The Briouzes were ushered out of Leinster with polite haste and took sanctuary with Walter of Lacy in Meath. Earl William must have hoped that he had extricated himself from this dispute without undue penalty.

  King John descends on Ireland

  In fact, King John was utterly determined to pursue the Briouze family and also intent upon demonstrating the full force of his royal authority in Ireland. Over the course of the next year, John made extensive preparations for a massive military campaign, and in the late spring of 1210, mustered a 700-ship armada in west Wales, ready to transport no less than 800 knights and an army of Flemish mercenaries across the Irish Sea. Judging that this expedition posed an irresistible threat, William Marshal hastily sailed to Pembrokeshire to offer a renewed submission to the king, thereby making it clear that he had no intention of lending any further support to the Briouze family or their allies. In some respects, there was an unpleasant edge of self-serving treachery to this decision. Marshal had turned his back on a former friend to safeguard his own position and family, but having already endured one period of conflict with the king, he seems to have had a better understanding of exactly what was at stake than many of his peers in Ireland. William’s bond of allegiance to the Briouzes did not extend to dynastic suicide.

  The king’s mighty host landed near Waterford on 20 June 1210, and proceeded to march through Leinster. William Marshal was obliged to feed and entertain John and his troops at massive personal expense, until the army finally moved on to the royal city of Dublin. Walter of Lacy quickly recognised that he was facing impossible odds and submitted to the king’s mercy, but was stripped of all of his estates in Meath (and these were not returned for another five years). His brother, Hugh of Lacy, earl of Ulster, made the mistake of trying to resist the crown, but his own forces were no match for those assembled by John. Hugh eventually retreated with the Briouze family to his fortress at Carrickfergus, and later fled to Scotland, leaving the king free to confiscate Ulster.

  William of Briouze fled to France, where he died in exile in 1211 (but not, it would seem, before telling the story o
f Duke Arthur’s murder). His wife Matilda and eldest son were less fortunate. Taken prisoner by King John, they were thrown into a cell in Windsor Castle and slowly starved to death. Chroniclers later reported that their bodies were found in a chillingly gruesome pose: Matilda kneeling before the corpse of her son, having been driven by unbearable hunger to gnaw upon the flesh of his cheeks.

  The merciless pursuit and cruel mistreatment of the Briouze family, and the associated ruination of the Lacys, caused widespread outrage across the realm. This singular act of royal retribution alienated many barons in England, igniting deep resentment of an already unpopular monarch. William Marshal had escaped the worst, but there was still a price to be paid for having harboured the ‘traitorous’ Briouzes in early 1209. He was summoned before John in Dublin to answer for this indiscretion in August 1210. Just as he had in 1205, when confronted over the issue of Normandy, Marshal offered to undergo trial by combat to prove his innocence, but even though he was now in his early sixties, no courtier was willing to meet his challenge. William also repeated the excuse that he had originally offered to the justiciar John of Gray, arguing that he had been ignorant of the dispute and noting that the king had still been ‘on very good terms’ with Briouze when Marshal left England in April 1208.

  This evasion was only partially successful. King John forced Earl William to relinquish control of Dunamase Castle, and required him to place a number of his most valued knights in crown custody. John of Earley was sent to Nottingham Castle, ‘where he suffered much hardship and tribulation’, while Jordan of Sauqueville was confined in Gloucester. They emerged after one year, but Geoffrey FitzRobert, who was sent to Hereford, fell ill and died towards the end of his imprisonment.* William Marshal had managed to avoid being caught in open defiance of the king and thus saved his own dynasty from decimation, though his eldest sons remained as royal hostages. Earl William was now in his twilight years – an elderly man by the standards of the time. Many of his contemporaries had already withdrawn from public life or passed away. In the aftermath of this fraught period of disruption between 1207 and 1210, William appears to have made a conscious decision to step back from the front line, entering retirement. He still sought to engineer the release of his children, but otherwise the earl remained in Leinster, looking to preserve the Marshal estates and secure the best future possible for his dynasty. It seemed that Earl William’s days as a great magnate of the realm were drawing to a close.