Episode Three – Rebels and Outlaws

Scene Thirty; 1070-71 – The Legendary Outlaws of the Fens:
Many of the stories of Hereward the Outlaw that follow these events were written down several generations after his own day, by which time they had already followed a legendary turn of phrase. But the twelfth-century Gesta Herewardi contains a kernel of factual detail, and, interestingly, Orderic Vitalis, without mentioning Hereward by name, provided additional material concerning the roles of Edwin and Morcar in the Fenland Rising following their submission to William in 1070.

Nevertheless, despite these disappointments, the rebels took refuge at Ely where they held out for several months against the newly appointed Norman lords, including William de Warenne in Castle Acre in Norfolk, William Malet of Eye, William de Goulafriére in Debenham and Richard Fitz Gilbert in Clare, all in Suffolk, aided by Abbot Turold. The outlaws continued to harry the Normans at every opportunity.

Like Hereward Asketil himself, many were of Danish descent, including Thorkell of Harringworth of Northants. The success of their widespread raiding and pillaging, and their more organised guerilla warfare, reassured many Englishmen that all was not yet lost. In retrospect, Hereward can perhaps best be seen, not as an isolated outlaw, but as a typical product of Cnut’s Anglo-Danish state, the remnants of which were now in open resistance to the new Norman state.
For a time, the King did little, leaving the task of containment to these barons, until the small bands were joined by Earl Morcar and his Northumbrian supporters. These included Bishop Aethelwine, the last Anglo-Saxon Bishop of Durham, appointed by Edward the Confessor and consecrated in 1056. In 1059, he had accompanied King Malcolm of Scotland to the court of King Edward, and he was initially loyal to William, submitting to him at York in 1068, following the submission of most of the northern thegns.
Aethelwine had also brought word to William from Malcolm that the Scottish king wished to live in peace with the new English king. William sent him back to Malcolm’s court with his terms, which were accepted. In 1069, when the new earl of Northumbria, Robert de Comyn, came north to begin governing, Aethelwine tried to warn the new earl about the new English army which was in the area, but the earl was burnt to death in the bishop’s house in Durham in January 1069. When William marched north in retaliation, Aethelwine fled and became an outlaw.
During the Harrying, Aethelwine had led the people of his bishopric to a temporary refuge on Lindisfarne, but by the Spring of 1070 he had returned to the mainland. He decided to resign his bishopric rather than wait to be expelled. He feared William’s wrath, but taking ship for exile, was frustrated by storms and ended up in Scotland, where he met Eadgar Aetheling, Maerlsweyn and their band of fellow exiles. News reached them of the stand being made at Ely, and joining thegn Siward Barn and several hundred other exiles, at some point in 1071 they sailed down the east coast, meeting Morcar and other refugees near Ely.
The Earls Morcar and Edwin feared that, as part of William’s revenge for the risings of 1069, they would be imprisoned, so they had escaped from their house arrest at court and, for six months, hiding out in the woods and fields, evading capture until, hoping to find a ship to carry them to Flanders, they arrived at Ely, where they met with a few other nobles and their housecarls. Among the nobles were two more of Edwin and Morcar’s relatives, Godric of Corby and Tostig of Daventry. These men had come south, seeking to flee to the continent, except for Prince Eadgar and Maerlsweyn, the English sheriff of Lincolnshire and their supporters, who had sought refuge in Scotland.
They had all met up near Wisbech in the Fens, and persuaded Hereward to allow them to spend the winter at Ely. Hereward himself had not been among those who had joined Eadgar Aetheling in the welcome extended to Earl Osbjern and the sons of Sweyn of Denmark, nor in their advance on York and cooperation with the Northumbrian rebels. But his presence in England is confirmed by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for 1070, dealing with the appointment of Turold of Malmesbury to Peterborough. The monks of Peterborough learnt that…
… because they had heard it said that the king had given the abbacy to a French abbot called Turold… their own men, namely Hereward and his band (genge), wished to plunder the monastery.
They were also aware that Turold had arrived at Stamford in Lincolnshire with a troop of Norman soldiers who were preparing to advance on Peterborough. Turold already had a reputation as someone who would view the abbey as a source of personal wealth both for himself and his associates. His enfoeffments accounted for nearly half of the abbey’s property. The monks therefore arranged for Hereward and his men to raid the monastery in order to stop Turold getting his hands on its treasured ornaments and vessels. By mid-1070, William had extended military service to bishops and abbots because he needed the church and its monasteries to pay for his army of occupation. Consequently, he appointed abbots who were prepared to raid the abbeys’ treasures for him.
So, late in the same year, the last notable remnants of English opposition to King William were now all gathered at one place, the almost impregnable fortress which was the Isle of Ely with its equally defensible fenland monastery. The rivers, meres and marshes surrounding the Isle made it a formidable obstacle, especially to an army whose strength lay in its use of cavalry. Any attempt to get onto the Isle, such as from Soham or Downham, were well known and could be easily defended. Hereward and his band had held out for some months against William’s local commanders.
Thirty-one; 1071-72, Ely – The Last Stand of the English Rebels:
In 1071, William’s presence was required in Normandy to ensure his control over the duchy. King Malcolm was also a constant threat from Scotland and although the Danes had returned home, the magnates knew they could easily return. On his return from Normandy, William realised that the presence of a larger fighting force, led by the remainder of the Anglo-Danish thanes, including Hereward, would continue to be a magnet for the disinherited and disaffected.
Added to this, the English exiles in Flanders could organise a return at any point, and Ely could be reinforced via the Wash by the Danes. There were over eight thousand exiles on the continent, and with Flemish support, they could recruit mercenaries to recoup their strength. But the absence of a major figure in exile to organise an invasion would eventually enable William to defeat the rebels and overcome Ely. He ordered out naval and land levies to prevent a further Danish threat, and built a two-mile-long causeway onto the Isle. The Peterborough Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recorded that:
… all the outlaws surrendered to him, namely Bishop Aethelwine and Earl Morcar and all their except Hereward alone and all who wished to follow him; and he courageously led their escape.
This mention of Earl Morcar is the first since his submission at Warwick early in 1068 before the northern rebellions of 1069-70 in which they took no part. At some point during the winter of 1070-71 they stole away in secret from the king’s household and set about trying to raise rebellion once again. It soon became apparent, however, just how far their fortunes had sunk when no-one rallied to their cause. Their failure reduced them to the status of fugitives. The outlawed Mercian thane, Hereward, was one of the few men on whom the earls could count. Their flight to Ely was probably one of the key factors that persuaded William to return to England in 1071.
Sometime in the autumn of 1071, King William gathered together an army supported by a fleet and prepared to blockade the Isle of Ely. He could not lay siege to the whole of the island as if it were simply another castle or town, but he set guards on all known exits and, as Gaimar wrote,
…all the passages through the woods were guarded and the marshes round about were vigilantly watched.
The besiegers came from across East Anglia and the East Midlands, including Lincolshire, Huntingdonshire, Cambridgeshire, Leicestershire, Warwicks and Northants. There were also soldiers from Flanders under the control of Ivor Taillebois. Norfolk and Suffolk were not involved directly, perhaps because William did not trust the Bretons who controlled large parts of these shires under Earl Ralph, son of Ralph the Staller. The contribution from these counties came again from William de Warenne of Castle Acre, Richard Fitz Gilbert of Clare and William Malet of Eye.
William’s second attempt to cross his hurriedly-constructed causeway to Aldreth met with disaster when they overloaded the structure and it collapsed, jettisoning the leaders and their followers into the swampy waters where they drowned. Only one knight, Deda, managed to scramble onto firmer ground, because he was the first to cross. He was taken as prisoner to the English leaders, including Earls Morcar and Edwin, Tostig of Daventry and the Anglo-Danish noblemen Thorkill and Ordgar, and was shown the the resources of the isle and the garrison. In his description to the king of the scene in the monastery’s refectory, Deda pictured the monks and knights dining together in pairs with their shields and lances behind them on the walls and other armour readily accessible nearby. Then he was released and sent back to William.
William, who was holding a Council of War when the news of the catastrophe was reported, complained that he could not leave the pocket of resistance at Ely although he needed to move against the Danish army and then go to Normandy. Therefore, he was minded to offer peace terms to King Malcolm of Scotland, who was still offering support and succour to the outlaws. However, his councillors stressed that leaving these men undefeated would severely blow Norman prestige and encourage the English to mock the king. They also complained that many of their estates had been invaded by these outlaws and they succeeded in persuading William to make another attack, Ivo Taillebois being particularly insistent.
The king gathered reinforcements, renewing the blockade on the Isle and building a bridge at the end of the old causeway. The Normans built four round wooden towers from which they could use catapults and ballistae to bombard the peat defences of their opponents. Meanwhile, Hereward led his men covertly into the area, then threw off his disguise and signalled his men to attack, throwing the Normans into confusion by setting fire to the piles of wood on which the towers stood and then the towers themselves. The whole structure rapidly went up in flames, which spread to the peaty swamp of reeds and grew fiercely over nearly a quarter of a mile, fanned by a strong wind.
The Norman soldiery, led by William Malet on horseback, rushed headlong along the pathways and tracks through the marshes. Malet, trapped between the roaring fire in front and Hereward’s men firing arrows and throwing javelins from behind him disappeared into burning swamps with his horse and was drowned, along with many of his men from the garrison at Eye castle.
Orderic Vitalis showed his bias on the situation at Ely by magnifying the reputation of Edwin and Morcar and showing how ill-used they were by the King. Orderic had excused their short-lived rebellion of 1068 as provoked by envious and greedy courtiers, and described the brothers as…
… zealous in the service of God… remarkably handsome, nobly connected… and well-loved by the people.
Orderic believed that Edwin was killed after rather than before or during the attack on Ely. He also alleged that King William, ill-advisedly relying on evil counsellors, damaged his own reputation by treacherously surrounding Earl Morcar at Ely. He claimed that William sent crafty messengers proposing treacherous terms to Morcar that if he were to surrender he would be received in peace as a loyal friend, which Morcar considered would be preferable to continuing to hold out, protected only by the inaccessibility of the place which also prevented him from slippng away by boat along the surrounding rivers to the sea.
William had already posted large numbers of butsecarles to prevent such a manouevre. His blockade certainly trapped Morcar and may also have prevented Edwin’s departure. While Morcar stayed at Ely, Edwin was to go north to Scotland to get help from Eadgar, the Northumbrian exiles and King Malcolm. However he was betrayed by three of his own men and then murdered by a group of Normans who trapped him beside the fast-flowing, incoming tide from the Wash. His attackers cut off his head and took it to the king, who summarily executed them for killing a nobleman without his consent.
Morcar continued in his role as political leader of the defenders at Ely, but then, finally and perhaps foolishly, accepted William’s assurances of safe conduct and reconciliation, and surrendered. Leading his men out peacefully to meet the King, the earl and his men agreed not to contest the king’s final, successful attack. William was assisted in coming onto the Isle while Hereward and his men were away foraging for supplies. The king then focused his efforts on the place where he knew most of the enemy were to be found. He brought up siege engines against Ely itself, and laboured daily to take it by storm.
The Norman force in the final attack consisted of a thousand French knights who now joined battle against three thousand pirates and greater numbers of the English militia from the Midlands as well as many of the common people of the Isle. William still had to take possession of Ely itself and deal with those he regarded as the ringleaders. His army entered the Isle but the march to Ely was not easy, requiring more riding and marching along the crooked fenpaths in order to ambush and enforce the surrender of the rest of the enemy.
Nonetheless, this was soon accomplished, especially as Morcar had already decided to trust the king and make his submission. However, some of the men surrendering were sentenced to imprisonment, and the others to loss of eyes, hands or feet, even if the mass of the common people were released unharmed. Hereward, with a few others, made his escape through the Fens, and, according to the Gesta Herewardi, went north towards the sea called Wide near Welle (the Wash) to the Isle of Stuntney (see the frontispiece picture above).
The outlaws were then pursued into Bruneswald, in the great woods of Northamptonshire, by the king’s men from nine Midland shires, who searched the woods near Bourne, led by Abbot Turold and Ivo Taillebois. Hereward laid an ambush for them, however, capturing both men, but Hereward decided to let them go in exchange for a modest ransom. The outlaws attacked Stamford, one of the five main towns of the Danelaw, but were repulsed by the citizens, who by then had turned against them due to their constant raiding. Hereward and his band then returned to Bruneswald and it was at this point that he became reconciled to the king.
Thurstan and his monks eventually did a deal with King William, suing for peace at Warwick, where the abbot received a charter guaranteeing that the abbey and its possessions would be restored freely and honourably after the struggle was over.
Thurstan drove a hard bargain, however, demanding that William could only be sure of obtaining entry onto the Isle if he first treated the monks well and guaranteed restoration of their lands and goods. The remaining local barons, William de Warenne and Richard Fitz Gilbert of Clare were the guarantors of the king’s promise. For his part, Thurstan agreed to ensure that the common folk, who depended on his guidance and support would cease their resistance. Orderic’s claim that the conflict between Ely and the King lasted for several years was supported by William’s decision to appropriate the Church lands at Ely that lay nearest to the Isle and divide them among his followers.
Morcar was arrested on the fall of Ely and thrown into gaol in the charge of Roger, the castellan of Beaufort in Normandy, where he was held for years until eventually released by William Rufus, only to be re-arrested on his return to England. So ended the House of Leofric, eventually brought down by those they had seemingly failed to protect, who could see no hope in continuing to resist the Norman takeover.
Thirty-two; 1075 – The Last Acts of English Resistance:
Earl Gospatrick also submitted, but the earl then sought the protection of King Malcolm, later becoming the Earl of Dunbar. Earl Waltheof submitted and was pardoned after the Great Rising of the North, made Earl of Northumbria and given Morcar’s lands in the north, but he then became involved in the Rising of the Earls in 1075 for which he was executed for treachery by beheading.
Given these events, there was little reason why any of the Anglo-Danish earls would have trusted William, except perhaps for Eadric the Wild who, submitting in 1070, was the most powerful thegn on the Welsh marches and proved his usefulness to the Conqueror in his campaign against the Scots. Neither is there any reason why William should have accepted such a man as the Lincolnshire outlaw, his apparent nemesis, into his service, and to give him back his lands would only have annoyed those Norman barons to whom they had been given.
By the time William I’s third son, Prince Henry, came to the English throne in 1100, the vast majority of the thegns who had survived the battles of 1066, had either submitted and kept some of their lands as collaborators, or had fled into exile in Scotland, Denmark or Flanders. The original intention of those who gathered at Welle and Ely with Morcar had been to spend the winter there and then go into exile, but William’s blockade prevented them from doing so. They had then decided on resistance, perhaps hoping that the Danes would indeed return, or the English exiles would return from Flanders with a force of eight thousand to drive the Normans out. Of those who went into exile after the fall of Ely, little or nothing was reported. Some, like Siward Barn, ended up serving in the Varangian Guard of the Byzantine Emperors after his release from gaol in the reign of William Rufus.
The general narratives of the Norman Conquest have tended to focus on the Battle of Hastings as the decisive event, but more recently, some historians have argued that contemporaries may not have seen it like that, and believe that it is wrong to dismiss the matter of Ely as it unfolded over the several years it took the Normans to gain control over England. Much of this has to do with the Hereward Myth and later legendary literature.There was a retrospective reference to Hereward the Exile from the reign of Henry II, but most of the material about him was recorded in later centuries.
Certainly, the early accounts reveal Hereward to be a military leader of remarkable ability, a guerilla fighter and a popular hero for many, like other outlaw figures in the following centuries. But he was not a major political figure, unlike Morcar or Edwin, or even Eadgar, who, we must remember, was still only in his early twenties when these events occured following the initial five years of the Conquest. Orderic Vitalis preserved much of the material about Ely and the Fenland outlaws at Crowland Abbey in around 1115, yet in his own records, he never mentioned Hereward by name. His narratives related mainly to events involving the Earls Edwin and Morcar. Orderic also rejected the idea that the original intention of those who gathered at Ely was to drive the Normans out of England. He wrote of it as an attempt to compel King William to offer acceptable terms to the outlaws, the monks and the people; an attempt that was ultimately a glorious failure, but one which would live long in the collective folk-memory of the English.
Thirty-three; 1072 – The English Exiles at the Court of House Dunkeld; East Anglia, and the Conquest of Northumbria:
It is thought that Edwin was on a personal mission to Scotland when he was overtaken on the way to gain passage in a ship from the Wash to Northumbria or Scotland. Certainly, the majority of the rebels at Ely had arrived from Scotland, though many of them would have been English exiles who had first fled from Northumbria to join Eadgar there. He was still a refugee at the court of King Malcolm, remaining there until 1072, when William crossed the border to force Malcolm’s submission. Like King Aethelstan of Wessex before him, William invaded using both naval and land levies, blockading the Scottish east coast with his ships and personally leading an army across the Firth of Forth.
William had previously decided against attempting a conquest of Scotland to deal with the Aetheling. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle commented that he found nothing there that they were any the better for. Malcolm came to Abernethy, near the Forth of Tay in Perthshire, swore to become William’s vassal and gave him hostages, including his eldest son, Duncan. Accepting the overlordship of the King of the English was no novelty, as Scottish kings over the previous two centuries had done the same without resulting friction. The terms of the agreement probably also included the exclusion of Eadgar, who took up residence in Flanders, with Count Robert.
In 1072, the devout Queen Margaret invited the Benedictines to establish a monastery at Dunfermline and established ferry crossings at Queensferry and North Berwick to help pilgrims journeying from south of the Firth of Forth to St Andrews. She also instigated the restoration of Iona Abbey, an acknowledgement of the ancient Celtic traditions of the Church in Scotland. For her own private use, a cave on the banks of Tower Burn in Dunfermline became a place of devotion and prayer.
The Scottish royal family, from the time of her arrival in Scotland some time in 1068, considered that Margaret was descended on her mother’s side from the Hungarian royal lines, and a more recent, American Mormon source states that Edward the Aetheling was married to Agatha, a kinswoman of Henry II, Holy Roman Emperor, who was related to King István. However, she was not István’s daughter, as some sources claimed. Her name, margarita in Latin, was derived from the Persian word for a pearl, and she was known as the precious pearl as a child in Hungary, becoming known as the pearl of Scotland as Malcolm’s queen. Her nickname was Meg in English.
Bishop Aethelwine of Durham and Siward Barn, the wealthy thegn, were among the Northumbrian rebels, initially based at Wearmouth, who had decided not to join Eadgar Aetheling and Sheriff Maerlsweyn in Scotland, but took refuge on the Isle of Ely in 1071 with Edwin and Morcar. They were accompanied by a fighting force of several hundred, raised in Scotland, who had landed on the Norfolk Coast, on the Wash. Siward Barn had been a king’s thegn, an Anglo-Danish noble, holding lands in Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, Lincolnshire and four other shires that totalled over a hundred hides. But after the harrying of the North, he had lost all his lands (to Henry de Ferrers). Trapped by William’s men after the fall of Ely, he was imprisoned until 1087.
Malcolm’s act of homage to William at Abernethy on Tayside was soon followed by further raids by him into Northumbria. Meanwhile, William had learnt that he could no longer count on the support of the Anglo-Danish nobility of Mercia and Northumbria to secure the Conquest in the North. As he moved south from Scotland, he took steps to provide greater security in Northumberland, north of the Tees. He built a new castle in Durham, adjacent to the cathedral, for the greater protection of both the bishop and the earl. He deprived Gospatrick of his title, while allowing him to keep his lands. However, the earl joined the rebels and went into exile in Flanders, with Eadgar.
He was replaced by Waltheof, who subsequently married Judith, the king’s niece. With connections to both the Anglo-Danish House of Bamburgh and the new Norman dynasty, he must have seemed like the ideal candidate to serve as the Earl of Northumbria, an Anglo-Norman magnate in the truest sense. However, in 1075 he became involved in an aristocratic conspiracy against the Norman king which ended in his execution.
In 1066, King William had appointed Ralph de Guader, an East Anglian nobleman of Breton origins, as his chief noble in the region. He was the high-born son of an Earl, thought to be Ralph the Staller, a noble at the time of Edward the Confessor. Ralph had fought at Hastings and was known for his bravery and strength of character. Then, in 1069, he routed a force of Norsemen that had invaded Norfolk and occupied Norwich, a triumph for which he was later created Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk. In 1075, Ralph married Emma, only daughter of William fitz Osbern, uniting two extremely large estates and important noble lines going back to the Saxon kings and the early dukes of Normandy.
Wary of creating over-mighty Anglo-Norman nobles, William did not give his approval to the match, but the wedding went ahead without it, and at the feast, Ralph, together with his new brother-in-law, Earl Roger of Hereford and Earl Waltheof of Northumberland, planned a revolt against the king. But this Revolt of the Earls, the last serious act of resistance against William I, was easily defeated, and Ralph and Emma left the castle in Norwich for his estates in Brittany. Waltheof was beheaded at Winchester the following year, having betrayed the conspiracy. Earl Roger was also deprived of his lands and earldom, but unlike Ralph he was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment.
Thirty-Four; 1072-80 – The Rivalry of Normandy and Anjou:
Meanwhile, on the continent, Normandy was threatened by the reviving political fortunes of both Anjou and the Kingdom of France. The new French king, Philip I, had emerged under the tutelage of his mother, Anna of Kyív, who gave him his Greek name, which was unusual in France at the time. He consciously pursued the anti-Norman policy developed by his father and in 1072 married the half-sister of Robert of Flanders, who had given refuge to Eadgar Aetheling. So, on all sides, Normandy was menaced by enemies. Duke William was still the most feared warrior in Europe, but he had to spend most of his time re-fighting old battles from Normandy, against younger adversaries, so that the government of England had to be entrusted to others. Archbishop Lanfranc exercised vice-regal powers, but he was naturally more concerned with reforming the English Church.
In 1072, construction began began on a new cathedral at Lincoln, designed, like Durham, to be as defensible as the nearby castle. During the same decade, new cathedrals were also started at Salisbury, Chichester, Rochester, St Albans and Winchester, the latter replacing the ancient minster which was demolished. These were grand buildings, expensively fashioned in stone which had to be shipped from Caen and completed in astonishing time. They emphasised the predominance and permanence of Norman hegemony. Lanfranc’s new cathedral at Canterbury, replacing the one that had burnt down ten years earlier, was also advanced enough to be dedicated in 1077. As part of the rebuilding, local Saxon saints, including St Dunstan, were purged from the commemorative calendar. Eadmer of Canterbury, the English historian and chronicler, commented that:
Sometimes, the archbishop had altered English customs for no reason other than to assert his own authority.
By 1077, relations between Anglo-Saxons and Normans were much better than they had been a decade earlier, not just in the view of Norman chroniclers, but also English ones. Orderic Vitalis recorded that:
… within just a few years of the Conquest, English and Normans were living peacefully together in boroughs, towns and cities, and were inter-marrying with each other. You could see many villages or town markets filled with displays of French ware and merchandise and observe the English, who had previously seemed contemptible tot he French in their native dress completely transformed by French fashions.
It was at this time that Eadgar Aetheling decided that it was time for him to submit to William’s rule. In 1074, he had returned to Scotland, but shortly afterwards he accepted an offer from Philip I of France who was already at odds with William over Normandy and Maine. This consisted of a castle and lands ont he borders of the Dukedom from where Eadgar could launch raids on William’s homelands. With his retinue, he embarked for France, but a storm wrecked their ships on the English coast. Many of Eadgar’s men were hunted down by the Normans, but he managed to escape with the remainder of them back to Scotland by land. Following this latest disaster and narrow escape, Malcolm persuaded Eadgar to make peace with William and return to England as his vassal.
Also by this time, William Rufus and Robert Curthose had reached adulthood and were keen to accept responsibilities from their father. He asked his father to name him as his successor in Normandy and Maine, but William told him to wait for a more opportune moment. Frustrated by this, he became estranged from both his father and his brothers. While Odo was lording it over the English, in Normandy William struggled to bring his eldest son to heel. Soon after Christmas 1078, William moved against him and a bitter stand-off ensued, in which, after a three-week siege, both William and Rufus were injured. For most of 1079, the magnates of Normandy attempted to bring about a reconciliation, and in the early months of 1080, William yielded to this pressure, granting Robert the right of succession to Normandy. The end of this familial dispute meant that William could finally turn his attention back to his kingdom, and after four years away he finally returned to England in the second half of the year.
Thirty-Five; Durham, 1080 – Return of the King:
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Channel, there had been conflict and disagreement between landowners when the Norman baronry encountered the remaining tangled strands of Anglo-Danish lordship. The Normans, whether by commission or submission, misinterpreted the rights of their English predecessors to match their own feudal interests. They also, in many cases, simply grabbed whatever they could. While much land was given out by the king or his regents, and entered into legally, a considerable amount was acquired by less legitimate methods; extortion, intimidation, and violence. In certain regions of the country, for example the East Midlands and East Anglia, the Domesday Book shows no clear pattern of land distribution, but rather that the Norman settlement in these areas was something of a free-for-all.
Domesday also preserves the testimony of local jurors that certain Norman barons had simply helped themselves. The monks of Ely’s support for the Hereward rebellion earned them lasting royal displeasure. Many local Normans seemed to have assumed thereafter that the abbey’s estates were open to unofficial appropriation. The sheriff of Lincoln was the worst offender; such was the scale of his appropriations that the monks of the twelfth century there remembered him as a roving lion, a hungry wolf, a crafty fox, a filthy pig, a shameless dog. Yet in 1077, King William had written to all his chief tenants in England ordering them to return any church lands obtained by violence or intimidation. But protection for lay tenants from avaricious lords by abbots and sheriffs only lasted as long as the protectors themselves. When they died, those who replaced them were at liberty to hand out entrusted estates to Norman friends and relations.
The darker side of the so-called settlement, not merely confused and chaotic, but rapacious, violent and unjust, applied at the highest levels of the feudal pyramid. Odo of Bayeux, acting as William’s regent during his four-year absence in Normandy in the 1070s, was a great believer in self-help. He helped himself to many of the land rights in Kent held by the Saxon Archbishop of Canterbury, by force of arms.
In the autumn of 1080, when a riot broke out in Durham, Odo was equally brutal in his punishment of the Northumbrians by leading an army into the region and laying it to waste. According to Simeon of Durham, Odo murdered, maimed and extorted money from the guilty and innocent alike, before helping himself to some of the cathedral’s treasures.
The question of where the Anglo-Scottish border should be fixed remained a matter of continual dispute, higlighted by the imposition of the non-native régime in the south. When Malcolm took advantage of William’s absence in Normandy, invading England in 1079, Robert Curthose was sent back to England and to the north with an army to build a New Castle upon the Tyne and to help secure the frontier. However, Malcolm again pursued peace and this time he kept it for more than a decade. William’s decision to delegate responsibility for northern English and Scottish affairs may indicate that the King did not actually return to his kingdom until late in the year of 1080.
Thirty-Six: Christmas, 1080 – Gloucester…
In fact, William did not appear in public in England until spending Christmas at Gloucester, when he went hunting in the Forest of Dean. William ceremoniously wore his crown in the cathedral, as he did the following Whitsun at Winchester. Orderic Vitalis provided the King’s court at this moment. The chronicler described how the abbot of St Evreux crossed to England and attended the king at Winchester, who received him together with his magnates, all of whom made gifts to the Norman abbey. Their names were recorded in a charter; besides the king and his sons, Roger of Montgomery, Hugh of Chester, and William of Brittany (son of William fitz Osbern) were all present. The writer of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle who described how the Conqueror kept great state in less benign terms:
… He wore his crown three times a year, as often as he was in England; at Easter, at Winchester; at Whitsun at Westminster; at Christmas at Gloucester. On these occasions, all the the great men of England were assembled about him – archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, thegns, and knights… he was so stern and relentless a man that no one dared do ought against his will. Earls who resisted his will, he held in bondage, bishops he deprived of their sees and abbots of their abbacies, while rebellious thegns he cast into prison.
Finally, the chronicler reports that William did not spare his own brother, Odo, but put him in prison. The Chronicle for 1082 simply tells us that in this year, the King arrested Bihop Odo. It has a startling effect on its readers, but it was not until half a century later that others wrote that he was plotting to usurp the throne, and others still that he was planning to become Pope. But at his trial, Odo was denounced primarily for his oppression of the English in a long speech from William himself, reported by Orderic. The king had arrested his brother personally, stating that he was not arresting a bishop, but an earl. After the trial, Odo was transported back across the Channel and imprisoned in the ducal castle at Rouen.
The Conqueror was soon hit by two more blows in his familial life in 1082-84. His wife, Matilda, died, and his eldest son, Robert Curthose, became alienated from his father once more, and went into exile. The King and Duke, must have felt increasingly isolated, as these he had now lost all three of the figures he had relied upon as regents. But they did not trigger any further crises in his dominions.
In 1085, however, William did have to deal with a renewed threat of an invasion of England from Denmark, a threat which seemed far more serious than previous incursions from Scandinavia since the invasion, defeat and death of Harald Hardrada in 1066. A new King Cnut sat on the Danish throne, and his fleets posed a far greater danger to William’s security than those he had led for his father in 1069 and 1075. Learning from these previous failures, Cnut prepared a fleet of more than a thousand ships for the invasion. He also had a key ally in Robert, Count of Flanders, whose daughter Cnut had married. According to William of Malmesbury, the Count had assembled his own fleet of six hundred ships, which added tot he overall invasion force. Naturally, as Malmesbury recorded, the King was very scared.
Nevertheless, William reacted quickly in the autumn of 1085, assembling the largest force of cavalry and infantry to set foot in England since the invading forces of 1066. John of Worcester wrote of many thousands of paid troops, foot soldiers and archers. The King’s Council decided that this defensive force should be dispersed throughout the country, billeted with abbots and other magnates. The land along the coastline was wasted so that the invaders would have nothing to live off, and coastal castles and defences were strengthened.
Christmas 1085, which William and his magnates once more celebrated at Gloucester, must have been a nervous one, with all those attending awaiting news of the sighting of the Danish-Flemish fleet. William revealed his own anxiety by dismissing the abbots of Crowland and Thorney, neighbouring monasteries in the Fens, because the monks had shown sympathy and support towards previous Danish invasions. The king replaced the Anglo-Danish abbots with two monks from Normandy. The Christmas court at Gloucester lasted five days and the Church council that followed a further three.
Thirty-Seven; 1086 – April-May 1086 – Winchester and Westminster:
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for 1086 reported that:
The King had much thought and deep discussion with his council about the country, how it was occupied and with what sort of people… he sent his men all over England, into every shire, and had them find out how many hundred hides there were in the shire or what land and cattle the king himself had in the country, or what dues he ought to have in twelve months from the shire. Also, he had a record made of how much land his archbishops had, and his bishops and abbots, and his earls… and how much everybody had who was occupying land in England… and how much money it was worth… So very narrowly did he have it investigated that there was no single hide nor yard of land… no one ox, or one pig was there left out and not put down in his record…
A hide was defined as an area such as could be ploughed by a single plough and a team of oxen in one season. Its size varied in different parts of the country, but probably ran from about forty to a hundred acres. In northern England, land was also measured in carucates and a tax called a carucage was levied on every hide or carucate of land at a rate of between 3s and 5s.
Despite the brutal expropriation of land in the early years of the Conquest, it is apparent from the manorial records in Domesday that most of the Norman magnates did not depend on royal patronage for their continuing tenure. Rather, they secured their tenure by keeping the peace on their lands, chiefly by respecting the pre-Conquest rights of their tenants, and managing their manors and estates diplomatically, especially in their relations with neighbouring magnates. There were also many cases of sub-tenanting and other flexible arrangements where the management of freemen was concerned.
In the case of the Golafre family, who were given lands in Suffolk early in the Conquest, these arrangements were due to their desire to maintain their lands in Normandy under Duke Robert. They were also determined to participate in crusades; Guillaume de Goulafriére, thirty years after standing at William’s right hand at Hastings, went to fight in the First Crusade, which left Normandy in 1096. He ceded his estates in Suffolk and in southern England to his son, Roger. The main branches of the held lands in East Anglia, especially in Suffolk and Essex, between 1086 and 1273. There are also references to the family name, deriving from their lands in Normandy, or variants of it, in local court records throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
In Suffolk, in pre-Conquest times, a tradition of fierce independence had been established. By the time of the Survey, the population of Suffolk was 20,491, which made it the most densely populated county in England with the possible exception of Middlesex. It was a shire of free farmers and small-holders. According to Domesday, there were 7,460 freemen in Suffolk and only about nine hundred serfs. The proportion of independent smallholders to peasants was quite different in Norfolk and Suffolk from that of any other shire.
Although the average freemen could only claim a little land, usually much smaller than a caracute, he could call himself his own man, something which meant a great deal to East Anglians. The land holdings were concentrated into compact blocks edged by market sor sometimes hedges. They might also have grazing rights on nearby heath and woodland. Every autumn they slaughtered their beasts and preserved their meat with salt from the saltpans on the Wash or in the Stour estuary. Most of them achieved self-sufficiency and were left with a surplus for market.
After the Conquest, Robert Malet had two small manors in the village of Aspall. He was one of the king’s chief magnates, the son of William Malet, a chief tenant to King William, who had accompanied the Conqueror from Normandy and was named as being present at Hastings. He had been given land in England by Edward the Confessor, and had an English wife. On William’s command, William had taken care of Harold’s body after the battle. Robert had inherited his father’s large estates in Suffolk following William’s death at Ely in 1072.
The eclipse of the English aristocracy was almost total. The three Anglo-Danish earls who witnessed the coronation of William at Christmas 1066 were all long gone by 1086, some assassinated, like Edwin, executed, like Waltheof, or languishing in gaol, like Morcar. Also gone were the lesser English nobles who were present at the Queen’s coronation. Among the witnesses of Salisbury in 1086, there was not a single English or Danish name. This was also true of Domesday’s ten thousand tenants-in-chief, of which a mere thirteen were English and only four had lands worth more than a hundred pounds. The king’s thanes, the ninety or so lords who may have each owned more than forty hides of land, were also gone. Even at the manorial level, the Anglo-Danish names were very much in the minority. England’s middling thanes, numbering four to five thousand, had been swept clean away.
Domesday therefore revealed cataclysmic change to the country’s ruling class, with Normans replacing native lords in almost every village and hamlet. By 1086, half the land of England was held by just two hundred Norman barons, who were many times more wealthy than their English predecessors. A quarter of the land was held by just ten magnates, including Odo of Bayeux, Robert Curthose, Roger of Montgomery, Richard Fitz Gilbert and Hugh of Chester. Yet, obscenely rich as these men were, their wealth was insignificant in comparison with that of the three English earls of the Confessor’s reign. At the start of that reign, Godwin of Wessex, Leofric of Mercia and Siward of Northumbria, taken together, and together with their families, had been equal in riches to the King himself.
By 1086, there were only two earls left in England, Roger of Montgomery and Hugh of Chester, both Norman Marcher lords. Even their combined wealth and power did not nearly approximate to that of their Saxon predecessors. After the Conquest, no coalition of magnates, nomatter how broad, could match the resources of the King, who had twice as much demesne as the top ten magnates put together.
While the Commissioners had been assembling their Domesday data, King William had been travelling around the southern part of his kingdom, what was once Wessex. At Easter, 5th April in 1086, he wore his crown at Winchester. By Whitsun, 24th May, when he was at Westminster for the knighting of his youngest son, Henry, he ordered all his magnates, spiritual and secular, to meet him on 1st August at Salisbury.
Thirty-eight – 1st August, 1086; Salisbury (Old Sarum) – Presentation of The Domesday Survey:
At that time, the ancient cathedral was north of the present city and cathedral at Old Sarum. The new cathedral, with its impressive spire was built by the early thirteenth century near the confluence of three rivers, and a settlement grew up around it, which received a city charter in 1227 as New Sarum, an official name which it kept until 2009. Until the eleventh century it was known by its Welsh inhabitants as Caer Caradog and in Latin as Sorbiodunum. Following the Saxon incursions of the sixth century until the eleventh century, it was known by its Old English name as Searobyrig. Preferring settlements in the valley below, such as Wilton, the Saxons had largely ignored Old Sarum until the Viking raids led King Alfred to restore its fortifications in the late ninth century. The Normans constructed a motte-and-bailey castle there in 1070, which was directly held by William and his Norman successors, and its castellan was also the sheriff of Wiltshire. Herman, the Bishop of Salisbury, began the construction of the first ’new’ cathedral, but this was not completed until 1092, only to be wrecked in a storm only five days later. Herman’s successor, Osmund, who had served as William’s Lord Chancellor, was responsible for the compilation of the Domesday Book which was presented to William at Old Sarum on 1st August 1086. Given its symbolic, strategic and religious significance, it was obviously a deliberate choice for the location of the major event of that day.
This was to be an assembly for the whole kingdom, the culmination of the Domesday process. The book names around a thousand individuals who held their lands directly from the king, his tenants-in-chief. Most, if not all of them, would have attended. Domesday also records about another eight thousand landowners at the next stage down, the sub-tenants of the king. These would have added another number well into four figures, possibly even reaching five.
The royal assembly at Salisbury was set to make the king even more powerful. William had summoned England’s landowning élites to participate in the climactic moment of the Domesday process, intimately connected with the true purpose of the book. When the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recorded that those present all became the King’s Men by swearing oaths; it described an act of homage, of personal submission to a lord in return for their individual rights to hold particular lands subject to the king, by his sole permission.
While much of the land of England had been given out by royal charter, much had also been obtained by intimidation, encroachment and violence. Few of the Normans could have produced title to all of the estates they possessed at the beginning of the Domesday inquiries. But once complete, the Survey provided precisely that written evidence. These documents were effectively royal charters, giving the confirmation and security of title the barons needed to guarantee their personal appropriations.
It was the nature of the Conquest itself that meant that William was able to create a new system from scratch, because at the outset all lands were forfeit to the Crown at the time of his accession. He was therefore able to establish a new aristocracy bound by new terms of service, rights and duties of inheritance and marriage. Shortly before the ceremony on 1st August, news must have reached him that Cnut IV was dead. He had died on 10th July, murdered in church by his own rebellious nobles. His sudden death meant that the threat of a Danish invasion was finally lifted. There was no longer any challenge to the Conqueror’s hegemony over England, either from within or without.
William was, by this stage in his late fifties, having launched the initial invasion at the age of thirty-eight. By contemporary standards he was now old, and had also grown obese. Back in his capital, Rouen, it soon became clear that he was dying. On his death bed, he attempted to appease God by releasing all the prisoners in his custody, a list which included Earl Morcar, Siward Barn and even Harold’s brother, Earl Wolfnoth, held hostage since 1051. Eventually, Odo was also set free. During his last days, William also let his final wishes about the succession be known. He confirmed his eldest son as his heir in Normandy, while entrusting England to God alone, though expressing his hope that William Rufus should become King of England, God willing. Shortly before his death, William sent Rufus to England, armed with a letter to Archbishop Lanfranc recommending that Rufus be crowned by him in succession.
Orderic Vitalis accepted the Norman argument that the invasion and conquest of England had been justified by Harold’s perjury, but as an Englishman he could not accept the way that the Conqueror had mercilessly crushed the opposition to his rule. He saw the Harrying of the North, in particular, as a terrible stain on William’s legacy. Orderic also drew a distinction between the behaviour of the Conqueror and that of his soldiers:
They arrogantly abused their authority and mercilessly slaughtered the noble people, … noble maidens were exposed to the insults of low-born soldiers and lamented their dishonouring by the scum of the earth. Ignorant parasites, made almost mad with pride, they were astonished that such a great had come to them, and imagined that they were a law unto themselves. Oh fools and sinners, why did they not ponder contritely in their hearts that they had not by their own strength, but by the will of almighty God, and had subdued a people that was greater and more wealthy than they were, with a longer history.
There were similar verdicts from elsewhere in Europe. In Bavaria, the apparent birthplace of Agatha, the wife of Edward the Exile, and mother of the returning Wessex exiles, a chronicler thought that William had miserably attacked and conquered England, sending its bishops into exile and its nobles to their deaths. By this time, Agatha herself had returned to the continent at some point after 1070 (the date of Simeon of Durham’s last reference to her), probably to Bavaria, where she died. Another German, writing in 1080, lambasted Pope Gregory VII over his relationships with certain rulers such as William, whom he described as tyrants.
The notion that nothing changed after 1066 owes much to the rewriting of history by Norman chroniclers. It was precisely what William wanted future generations to believe, such was his desire to be regarded as Edward the Confessor’s legitimate successor and England’s rightful king. Harold’s brief reign and Eadgar Aetheling’s even briefer one were omitted from the Norman chronicles. Domesday presented a picture of quiet continuity and concealed massive tenurial upheaval. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, summing up the Conqueror’s reign, came closest to recognising the great gulf between Norman propaganda and the actual events of the period 1066-1086. It complained that:
The louder the talk of law and justice, the greater the injustices they committed.
What Domesday demonstrated beyond any question was how totally the Conquest had replaced one ruling élite with another. By 1086, the English had been totally eradicated from the higher eschelons of society. The transformation had almost certainly been William’s original intention. His hope had been to rule a mixed Anglo-Norman kingdom, much as Cnut had ruled an Anglo-Danish one. The English knew they had been conquered in 1016, but in 1066 they refused to accept this as the logical or necessary outcome of the Battle of Hastings. In subsequent stages therefore, the Norman Conquest became far more radical than its Danish predecessor. Henry of Huntingdon commented that:
In King William’s twenty-first year, there was scarcely a noble of English descent, but all had been reduced to servitude and lamentation.
But the English and the Normans were two quite different peoples. William of Malmesbury, in a famous passage, described the Battle of Hastings as a fatal day for England, a disaster which had resulted in the country exchanging old masters for new. He then went ont o contrast the natures of the two peoples:
The English were abandoned to gluttony and lechery, lax in their Christianity and addicted to wassail. They lived out their lives in small, mean houses, prefering to load their tattoed skin with gold bracelets, eating until they were sick and drinking until they spewed.
The Normans were well-dressed to a fault, particular about their food and more obviously religious. A crafty, warlike people, they built great, proud buildings in which they lived a life of moderate expense, although narrow in its focus and infected with moral hindsight…
Some of the Normans went home after their initial Conquest, satisfied with the fruits of their pay and plunder, but many others, fixed on acquiring and holding land, stayed to create a new colonial society. They settled across England, from east to west, and from south to north, tearing up the old tenurial patterns in the process, reorganising their estates as manors, and erecting castles to serve as administrive centres.
The numbers of free men owning and working their own land fell throughout the kingdom. On the other hand, however, by the 1130s, slavery was gone from England, and some contemporaries attributed this to the Conquest. Along with their belief that slavery was wrong in Christian terms, the Normans introduced the notion that it was better to show mercy to their opponents after they had surrendered. The English had been practising political murder right up to the eve of the Conquest, as the strange case of the death of Edward the Exile demonstrated. Also, with the sole exception of Earl Waltheof, no Englishman was executed as a result of the conquest. Very quickly thereafter, the practice disappeared and did not reappear until the death of Becket in the time of Henry II. The last judicial execution, on royal orders, in Norman England, took place in 1095, and after that there followed two and a half centuries of chivalric restraint.
It is certainly true that the Normans brought with them their zealous commitment to the reform of the Church. The boom in the building of parish churches in England had begun long before the coming of the Normans, yet there is little doubt that they accelerated these developments. In addition, they built many new monasteries. In 1066, there were around sixty in England, but by 1135 that number had more than quadrupled to as many as three hundred. The number of monks and nuns increased by a similar amount. In the North, just a few years after the harrying, monasteries and their lands were restored and others refounded at Selby, Jarrow, Whitby, Monkwearmouth, Durham and York. But, as across the continent as a whole, most of these developments would have taken place without the Conquest, as they did in Scotland, under the patronage of the Queen, Margaret of Wessex and her son, King David I. Indeed, before the Conquest, a great wave of monastic reform had already spread throughout Europe from the abbey at Cluny.
The economies of these monasteries were mainly based on sheep farming, but they also farmed coastal marshlands and woodlands; the key was that they should be on land that was not wanted by secular tenants and therefore unlikely to form part of a network of feudal obligations. They did not, therefore, form part of the land-grab of the Norman barons, and most of them remained relatively poor throughout the twelfth century. In any case, the first generations of conquerors referred to spend their surplus wealth to patronise monastic houses at home in Normandy, where they intended to be interred.
For the ordinary English at the time, however, the Norman takeover seemed an unmitigated disaster, a melancholy havoc, as William of Malmesbury put it. They had seen their artistic treasures being looted and taken as spoils to Normandy and the bones and relics of their saints being hidden from view, tossed away, or burnt. They saw the demolition of churches and great cathedrals like Winchester, which had stood for centuries and, in some cases since the first arrival of Christianity in England. Nevertheless, when the giant new Norman cathedral at Winchester, begun in 1079, was completed in 1093, the bones of St Swithyn were reinstated with great honour, and when, during the same year, another new cathedral was begun at Durham, it was very different from anything that had gone before, its pillars decorated with the linear patterns that were so characteristic of old English art. This was the best example of Anglo-Norman artistic fusion.
However, the remaining English-speaking clerics also noticed the sudden disappearance of English as a written language. After it ceased to be used in royal offices after 1070, it was also soon abandoned in usage in monastic scriptora around the country, to be replaced by Latin or Norman French. Only the E version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle survived into the twelfth century, ending in 1154. After the Conquest, there were no new vernacular prayer books, so that an ancient tradition that was intended to raise the standard of religious literacy and oracy among the laity was dying before their eyes, and a vital bridge between the clergy and the people was broken until the Reformation.
The coming of the conquerors had brought with it acts of vandalism that not even the Danes had visited on Anglo-Saxon culture. All this came on top of the slaughter and deliberate wholesale starvation of the native northern population. As the agents of this genocide, the Normans appeared to the native English to be anything but civilised. For the survivors, there could be only one explanation for their suffering; the English had sinned and were being severely chastised by their creator. Most of the chroniclers seemed to be agreed on this point. This self-flagellation was reminiscent of the Venerable Bede’s view of the Britons, whom he believed had been replaced by the Anglo-Saxons as God’s chosen people. Just as in Bede’s day the almighty had used the pagan Vikings as his instrument of punishment, now it was their Christian descendants, the Normans, who had been chosen for that role.
The Conqueror’s hopes for the English succession were fulfilled in 1087 when William Rufus ascended to the throne. But his fears about the threats posed by other members of his family also proved to be well-founded. Robert Curthose, already installed as Duke of Normandy on his father’s wishes, also plotted to replace Rufus on the English throne. The plot failed, but the struggle between the two elder sons of the Conqueror continued for many years. Their younger brother, Henry, soon added a third element to the sorry saga of betrayal and double-crossing, and in May 1087 their uncle, the King of Scots added a fourth dimension.
Malcolm Canmore marched south again to besiege the New Castle built by Robert Curthose. This was an attempt by the Scottish king to advance his frontier from the Tweed to the Tees. The perceived threat was enough to bring the new Norman king, William Rufus, back from his native estates in Normandy, where he had once again been fighting with his brother. In September, learning of Rufus’s approaching army, Malcolm beat a tactical retreat, though he was prepared to fight if necessary. In a peace brokered by Eadgar Aetheling and Curthose, Malcolm again acknowledged the overlordship of the English king.
Robert had struck up a remarkable friendship with Eadgar since his submission to William in 1075. Orderic wrote that they were virtually foster brothers, since they were almost the same age. But this closeness between the Duke of Normandy and the last old English claimant caused both Rufus and Henry, to regard the Aetheling with greater caution. Despite William’s pardoning of Eadgar and his readmission to the English court, when Rufus became King of England after his father’s death, he confiscated the Aetheling’s English lands, so that Eadgar was once more forced to take refuge with his brother-in-law in Scotland.
When Rufus arrived in England in 1087, accompanied by the newly released Morcar and Wolfnoth, his first act upon landing was to have both men reincarcerated, demonstrating that he was not looking for reconciliation with the remnant of the English nobility.
(to be continued… )


























































































































































































































































































































































































































