Blood Cries Afar (52 page)

110
   For Mirebeau see Coggeshall, 137–8; WB, ii, 166–9; RW, i, 314–15; AB, 93–5; and Bradbury,
Philip Augustus
, 143–4, for the politics.

111
   At Courcelles in 1189 in a trap laid by Richard I (WB, ii, 139) See John Gillingham,
Richard the Lionheart
, 2nd edn, 1989, 272–3. For intelligence gathering in the Middle Ages see J.O. Prestwich, ‘Military Intelligence under the Norman and Angevin Kings’ in G. Garnett and J. Hudson (eds),
Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy
, Cambridge, 1994. Wendover writes that John’s march was ‘faster than is to be believed’: RW, i, 314.

112
   These examples are from William the Breton: WB, ii, 73, 75, 102, 125–6. Cf. Richard’s remarks with Hugh de Boves: ‘delays are always dangerous when things are ready’ (RW, ii, 107). For Aumâle see WB, ii, 132 and Gillingham,
Lionheart
, 267–8.

113
   Warren, 79. Cf. Poole’s remark in Poole,
From Domesday Book to Magna Carta
, 382.

114
   RW, i, 315. Poole suggests that ‘shortage of provisions may have expedited the retirement’ (Poole,
From Domesday Book to Magna Carta
, 382). See above for John’s intention that the Cinque Ports should cut off the supplies to Philip by sea. Bradbury writes that ‘Philip’s retreat was the one occasion when militarily John out-trumped’ (Bradbury, 143).

115
   AM, i, 26;
Rot. Pat.
, 1, 33b, 37b, 44b, 55b; H.J Chaytor,
Savaryc de Mauléon
, Cambridge, 1939, 14. The sources concur that John was a harsh captor. However, such was a medieval
realpolitik
, this did not prevent some of the prisoners from later forging alliances with John: see Lyons, ‘The Capetian Conquest of Anjou’, 35.

116
   RC, 139–41; Matthew Paris,
Historia Anglorum
, ed. F. Maddern, RS, 1866, ii, 95; AM, i, 27; WB, ii, 173–4. Arthur’s historical role is explored most fully in K. Carter, ‘Arthur I, Duke of Brittany, in History and Literature’, unpublished PhD, The Florida State University, 1996, and J. A. Everard,
Brittany and the Angevins
, Cambridge, 2000, 159–75. Judith Everard’s bbok is to be much recommended for events in Brittany which we do not have space to go into here. See also Powicke,
The Loss of Normandy
, 309–28; Michael Jones, ‘The Capetian and Brittany’,
Historical Research
, 63 (1), 1990, 9–12; M. D. Legge, ‘William the Marshal and Arthur of Brittany,
Historical Research
, 55 (1), 1982. Legge draws attention to William de Braose as a common source for both William the Breton and the annalist of Margam (19).

117
   Powicke, 153–4. For the political and territorial shake-up that followed des Roches’ move to Philip, see Lyons, ‘The Capetian Conquest of Anjou’, 39–64. John ensured that des Roches was unable to carry all his military power with him.

118
   RW, i, 317. For Count Robert’s defection see Power,
The Norman Frontier
, 438–40, and for this and John’s alienation of the Norman aristocracy, see Daniel Power, ‘King John and the Norman Aristocracy’, in Church,
King John
.

119
   Poole,
From Domesday Book to Magna Carta
, 383–4. Daniel Power’s massive and brilliant
The Norman Frontier
is comprehensive for this period. For an excellent survey of ties between England and Normandy see David Bates and Anne Curry (eds),
England and Normandy in the Middle Ages
, London, 1994. Also, Bartlett,
England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings
, 11–28; Power, ‘King John’; V. D. Moss, ‘The Norman Exhequer Rolls of King John’, in Church; Powicke,
The Loss of Normandy
, chs. 3 and 5. Historians who make a convincing case for cracks in the Anglo-Norman relationship include: Ralph Turner, ‘Good or Bad Kingship: The Case of Richard Lionheart’,
Haskins Society Journal
, 8, 1999, 72–73; idem, ‘Richard Lionheart and the Episcopate’; idem, ‘The Problems of Survival’; Lucien Musset, ‘Quelques problèmes poses par l’annexion de la Normandie au domain royale français’, in Bautier,
La France de Philipp Auguste
; and J.C Holt, ‘the End of the Anglo-Norman Realm’, in his
Magna Cart and Medieval Government
, where he writes of the ‘signs that Normandy and England were beginning to go their separate ways’ (47). All the while, ties with France had been growing stronger: Judith Green, ‘Lords of the Norman Vexin’, in J. C Holt and John Gillingham (eds),
War and Government in the Middle Ages
’, Woolbridge, 1984; idem, ‘Unity and Disunity in the Anglo-Norman State’,
Historical Research
, 62 (1), 1989. Warren believes that by the early thirteenth century Normans considered their union with England to be ‘a curious anachronism’: W. L. Warren,
Henry II
, London, 1973, 627. David Crouch writes that by the beginning of the thirteenth century one can ‘conclude that it was only the fraction of the magnates with Anglo-Norman interests which supported the King of England’s desire to keep Normandy’: Crouch, ‘Normans and Anglo-Normans: A Divided Aristocracy?’, in Bates and Curry,
England and Normandy in the Middle Ages
, 67.

120
   For commentaries on the siege of Château Gaillard see: E. E. Viollet le Duc,
Military Architecture
, London, 1990, 80–94 (originally published in 1860); Raymond Quenedy, ‘Le Siège de Château Gaillard en 1203–1204’,
Bulletin de la Société des Amis des Monuments Rouennais
, 1913, 51–89. These works contain good physical descriptions of the castle, as does J.F. Fino,
Fortresses de la France Mediévale
, Paris, 1967, 115–83. See also: Paul Boutellier, ‘Le Siège et la Prie du Château Gaillard’,
Revue Historique de l’Armée
, 1946, 15–26; Philip Warner,
Sieges of the Middle Ages
, London, 1968, 124–34; Cartellieri,
Philipp II
, iv, 166–70, 173–179; Powicke, 253–6 (which sees the siege as one important event amongst many); Warren, 93–5. The most complete previous account in English is Norgate,
Angevin Kings
, ii, 411–23; also of note is her
John Lackland
, 94–100. I have, to my knowledge, provided here the fullest account of the siege in English. See n. 27 for contemporary sources. Bradbury (
Philip Augustus
, 145–151) and Wade (’Warfare and Armies in Capetian France’, 140–56) provide good recent accounts. For its strategic importance, see Dominique Pitte, ‘Château-Gaillard dans la Défense de la Normandie orientale (1196–1204)’,
ANS
, 24 (2002).

121
   Of contemporary sources, William the Breton provides two invaluable accounts: WB, i, 212–19 and ii, 176–209. Rigord covers the siege in Rigord (WB), i, 159; Roger of Wendover offers a slightly different perspective in RW, ii, 8–9. Brief mentions appear in AM, ii, 255–6; and AB, 102–3; and also the Anonymous of Béthune’s narrative in
RHF
, xxiv, 762.

122
   See Norgate,
John
, n. 20.

123
   RW, i, 317.

124
   Baldwin, 168. See also ch. 3.

125
   The accounts in the
Philippidos
and
Gesta
differ here: the former attributes this commando-style mission solely to Galbert; the latter conflates the earlier breaking of the stockade with the later attack on the isle into one episode.

126
   Powicke (
The Loss of Normandy
, 254–6) casts doubt on the existence of these trenches, judiciously reminding us of Charles VII’s siege operations at Château Gaillard in 1449; but he is wrong to say that William the Breton does not mention these trenches, as he clearly does so: WB, i, 216 and ii, 193; so also does the extremely rarely mentioned account of the siege by the Anonymous of Béthune in
RHF
, xxiv, 762.

127
   For what follows, see William the Breton’s prose account in WB, i, 216–218; his lengthier verse account is in WB ii, 195–200. Historians who cover this event tend to do so only within a few lines at most: see Lloyd,
King John
, 139–40; Philip Warner,
Sieges of the Middle Ages
, London, 1968, 133–134; Powicke,
Normandy
, 256; Luchaire,
Philippe Auguste ou la France Rassemblée
, Paris, 1979, 157–158. Kate Norgate’s
Angevin Kings
, ii, 417–418 gives the most detail, and is the only one to add an original insight into the subject. But see also Sean McGlynn, ‘The Useless Mouths’,
History Today
, 48 (6), 1998, idem,
By Sword and Fire
, 161–70, and Wade, ‘Warfare and Armies in Capetian France’, 149–50. The expulsion of ‘useless mouths’ was commonplace: the French garrison besieged at Calais turned out non-combatants in 1346, as that of Rouen did in 1418 (see n. 30). As a siege measure, we can see it in operation as late as 1870 at the siege of Paris: Alistair Horne,
The Fall of Paris: The Siege and Commune, 1870–71
, London, 1965, ch. 11; Susan Watkins, ‘War on God’, (review article),
London Review of Books
, 21 (10), 20, who uses the phrase ‘les bouches inutiles’ in a modern context.

128
   There is a large painting by Tattegrain, considered by many to be a masterpiece, with this title (’Les bouches inutiles’), which is exhibited in the mayorial offices at Les Adelys. The lower of the figures cited is more likely. The numbers are calculated from William the Breton’s figures.

129
   William refers to this tragic ending only in his chronicle (WB, i, 218); he probably did not wish for such an unhappy ending to mar the compassion of the French king in his panegyric
Philippidos
. For the Parzival episode, see Paul Strohm’s review of Herman Pleij,
Dreaming of Cockaigne: Medieval Fantasies of the Perfect Life
(Columbia, 2001) in
The London Review of Books
, 21 June, 2001, 17.

         William’s account of the siege is given extra authenticity by this description of the fatal consumption of food by the surviving starving refugees. In 1945 British soldiers who had liberated Belsen concentration camp gave food to the skeletal inmates; several of the internees died from the induced gastrointestinal bleeding, the result of too much food acting on acutely empty stomachs (see Thomas Stuttaford, MD, writing in
The Times
, 22 May 1995 and also
The European Journal of Gastroenterology and Hepatology
, May 1995). The veracity of this episode is further underlined by the case of the shipwrecked survivors of the whaleship
Essex
in 1820: when rescued from being adrift in their lifeboat, two remaining sailors were reluctant to surrender the bones on which they had been gnawing and relying for sustenance (the drama is related in Nathaniel Philbrick,
In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship ‘Essex’
, London, 2000; Owen Chase,
Shipwreck of the Whaleship Essex
, London, 2000). That these bones were human (from victims of the disaster) makes the William the Breton’s claims of cannibalism at Château Gaillard more believable. Modern authorities are too ready to dismiss William’s reference as sheer sensationalism (eg, Wade, ‘Armies and Warfare’, 150, n. 93) or as a literary topos. Desperate sieges could prompt desperate responses. During the Battle of Leningrad in the Second World War, between early December 1941 and 15 February 1942 Soviet authorities investigated no less than 886 cases of cannibalism in just three months (John Erickson, ‘The Ultimate Wound’,
The Times Literary Supplement
, 28 August 1998, 11).

130
   For the events at Calais see: Jim Bradbury,
The Medieval Siege
, Woodbridge, 1992, 157–158; Jonathon Sumption,
The Hundred Years War
, London, 1990, 577; Warner,
Sieges
, 172. For Rouen see: Desmond Seward
Henry V as Warlord
, London, 1987, 117; J. Bradbury,
The Medieval Siege
, Woodbridge, 1992, 169–170; and John Page’s eyewitness account A.R. Myers (ed),
English Historical Documents
, iv, 1969, 219–222. William the Breton was not only an experienced observer of warfare, he was also something of a classic scholar, and he himself used his knowledge of ancient wars to draw comparisons with his own time. This is partly revealed in the way that the sufferings of the non-combatants at Château Gaillard are paralleled with the harshness of war in early history, thereby displaying his awareness of the widespread misery that war always creates. Taking his lead in from Caesar’s
De Bello Civili
, William relates how Roman soldiers were compelled by circumstances to drink the urine of their horses. This incident is more familiar to modern readers from Shakespeare’s
Anthony and Cleapatra
, when Caeser reminisces on the hardships that Anthony had to endure for success in war:

At thy heal

Did famine follow, whom thou fought’st against –

Though daintily brought up – with patience more

Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink

The stake of horses, and the gilded puddle

Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge.

Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets,

The barks of trees thou browsed. On the Alps

It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh.

Which some did die to look on …

(I, iv, 11. 58–68)

131
   Rigord in WB, ii,159; RC,144; Wendover, RW, ii, 8.

132
   AB, 103.

133
   Norgate (
Angevin Kings
, ii, 417) lays this blame on de Lacy. The quote is from Susan Reynolds,
Fiefs and Vassals
, Oxford, 1994, 37.

134
   The letter is briefly discussed in Norgate,
John Lackland
, 99 and in Powicke,
Normandy
, 255–6.The letter fell into Philip’s hands and is preserved in his earliest register, now lodged in the Vatican, under the title ‘Littere quas misit Rex Anglie onsessis in Gaillard.’ (’Letter sent by the King of England to the besieged in Gaillard’), Register A.f. 38v. Powicke suggests (note 25, 256) that the letter was sent with John’s ‘intimate clerk’ in January: ie, after de Lacy had expelled the noncombatabants.