Crassus, the man who had decades earlier defeated the gladiator-rebel Spartacus, had grown old and rich. Having partnered with Julius Caesar and Pompey Magnus, he was now one of the three virtual co-rulers of the Roman world (the First Triumvirate). But power and wealth was not enough for the ageing Crassus. He hungered for the kind of military glory that Pompey had earned in his youth, against the Pirates and Mithradates of Pontus; and which Caesar was even then winning in Gaul.

That year Crassus took Syria as his Pro-Consular governorship. His intent was to emulate Alexander the Great, and at the head of a massive army of legions and auxiliary troops invade the Persian-centered Arsacid Empire of the Parthians!

The Parthians were a conquering race of nomadic peoples (possibly of Indo-European/Scythian origin); who, a century earlier, had come off of the Eurasian steppe and seized Persia and Mesopotamia from the decadent and decaying Seleucids, a Graeco-Macedonian dynasty founded by one of Alexander the Great’s generals. They were still at least semi-nomadic after a century ruling the heartland of the old Persian Empire; living in tent cities along the Tigris river, and practicing the arts of horse archery and cavalry warfare.

Their very formidable army was composed of masses of unarmored horse archers; experts with the powerful recurve, composite bow. Mounted on swift horses or ponies, these operated in an amorphous mass in battle, weakening and bewildering their opponents with rapid maneuver and a blizzard of arrows. Refusing to come to close quarters, as long as their quivers were full they could safely harass their enemies from a distance.

These were backed-up by a small cadre of heavily armored nobles, called by the Greek and Roman sources “cataphracts”. Recruited from the Parthian aristocracy, these were much like the Medieval European feudal knights: heavily armored (both man and horse), they were armed with a very long and heavy lance, called a kontos by the sources (meaning “barge pole”).  These were the heaviest cavalry in the ancient world, made possible by the breeding in Persia (beginning with the Medes) of the largest horses known in the ancient world: the eastern Iranian Nisean charger. While the largest Roman (or Greek) cavalry horses were a mere 16 hands, these Niseans may have been as large as 18-20 hands. They were perhaps the first “great warhorse” in history.

Though always a minority of any Parthian army, these cataphracts gave the horse archers a solid force to rally behind when pursued; and gave a Parthian commander a hammer with which to smash an enemy weakened sufficiently by the horse archer’s arrow barrage.

Marcus Crassus brought to Syria a powerful force composed of 7 Roman legions (about 35,000  heavy infantry). The reputation of the Roman legions was at their height of fame and prestige. In the previous two centuries they had defeated every enemy they had faced: from Hannibal and the Carthaginians to the all-conquering Macedonians; from the Teutonic Germans to Mithradates’ Pontians. Decades earlier, Lucullus and Pompey had faced and defeated with little effort the Armenians armies of King Tigranes; which like the Parthians also had a formidable force of cataphract cavalry. Though they had occasionally lost battles, no enemy in two centuries had triumphed for long against the Roman Republic.

Along with the heavy legions, Crassus had brought an additional 4,000 light infantry, and 4,000 cavalry. These included a 1,000 Gallic noble cavalry. These dashing Celtic horsemen were sent by Caesar with Crassus’ eldest son, Publius; now reunited with his father after serving with distinction under Caesar in Gaul. These Gallic horsemen had served Caesar well, and were highly esteemed as heavy cavalry.

The Romans did not hold the Parthians in very high regard. They had faced horse archers and cataphracts before; and feared neither. The horse archer was only formidable if given a wide plain upon which to maneuver and only so long as his quiver was full. Eventually, his arrows would be expended and he would be forced to withdraw before the relentless march of the undaunted legions. As for the cataphracts, they had been seen in the past to be slow and ponderous; and rapidly attacking Roman infantry had been able to infiltrate their ranks and hamstring their horses.

What the Romans had never faced and were not prepared for was the expert coordination of both these troop-types together; and in the hands of an expert general who knew both theirs and the Roman’s weaknesses.

GALLIC HORSEMEN IN ROMAN SERVICE

Unfortunately for the ageing would be conqueror, Crassus, the Parthians were aware of his coming invasion; and their king had placed in commanded just such a general. Known to history as “the Surena” (surely a title rather than his proper name), this otherwise unknown Parthian noble would prove a gifted general and master of cavalry warfare.

As Crassus advanced from Antioch, the Roman capital of Syria, he made his first mistake by ignoring the advice of his Armenian allies to march through their mountainous terrain to the north; and thus avoid the blistering heat of the northern Mesopotamian desert. Instead, Crassus seemed to have decided to follow in the footsteps of Alexander and took the direct route east. Crossing the Euphrates, his army marched through the scorching sun and choking dust to the town of Carrhae; a Greek settlement not far from modern Mosul.

Here he found the Surena waiting to give battle.

Surena had but 10,000 men, only 1,000 of which were cataphracts. With an army a fourth of the size of Crassus’ it has been surmised that he was merely expected to reconnoiter and delay Crassus till the Parthian King could muster the main forces of his empire. Whatever his orders may have been, Surena came with a plan for defeating the Romans there and now. To this end he had arranged, through Arab guides in his employ, to lead the Romans to a near-waterless plain with ample room for maneuver. To prevent his horse archers running out of arrows he brought a thousand camels, laden with bundles of arrows to resupply his men throughout the battle. Nor did he ignore the psychological aspects of battle: to demoralize the Romans, he went to great lengths to intimidate them by the incessant beating of great hollow kettle drums; whose deep and throbbing boom unsettled the Roman soldiers. Surena also had his cataphracts cover their armor in cloths, to disguise their presence till the last possible moment.

The appearance of a Parthian army so soon into the invasion surprised Crassus and caused consternation among his officers; who had been led to believe (by Surena’s Arab agents in the Roman camp) that the Parthian army was yet far away. While his lieutenant, Gaius Cassius Longinus (one of the future assassins of Julius Caesar) suggested a traditional battle deployment and attack, Crassus was (perhaps correctly) concerned with being enveloped on the wide plain by the swift-riding Parthians. He therefore deployed his army into a vast, hollow square formation; with each side comprised of twelve cohorts. The cavalry and light troops were deployed within the square of legionaries. While thus protecting his flanks, Crassus had deprived his army of battle frontage and the ability to maneuver.

The Parthians opened the battle with a relentless barrage of missles. The horse archers, galloping forward in wedges, loosened their arrows into the Roman ranks. Though the Romans formed testudo, locking shields to protect from and head, this usually sound tactic proved ineffective. Coming very close to the Roman ranks, the Parthian’s powerful composite bows pierced shields, pinning hands to scutum; or, falling from the sky, pinned sandaled-feet to the ground. Before the Romans could respond with thrown javelin, the Parthians would then swiftly wheel their mounts about and gallop back the way they had come. While doing so the Parthian riders continued shooting over the rump of their horses even as they withdrew. (So the phrase “Parthian shot“ came into our own language, meaning any damaging last-minute blow by word or deed.)

 The Romans continued to advance, and horse archers alone could not stop them. However, at this moment Surena played the next card in his hand.

With the unfurling of shimmering banners of multicolored  silk and accompanied by the thunderous booming of the kettle drums, Surena now ordered his cataphracts, held to that moment in reserve, to throw off the coverings and reveal their polished scale armor.

Surena here demonstrated an appreciation of “psi ops”; as the awesome sight of a thousand lancers on massive horses, their armor gleaming in the late afternoon sun, proved demoralizing to the tired and dust covered Romans.

For the next hour, Surena’s horse archers continued showering the Romans with arrows; while the presence of the cataphracts, poised to charge, stopped the Roman advance and kept the legionaries from breaking their tight ranks and pursuing the light horsemen.

These tactics, along with the intense desert heart and lack of water, wore the Romans down morally and physically. By late afternoon, the Romans were loosing confidence in themselves and their commander.

Hitherto,  Crassus had bided his time, confident from previous experience that in short time the archer’s quivers emptied, and the riders would have to withdraw. Unfortunately for the Romans, the Surena’s camels, waiting just beyond the battlefield, kept the Parthian quivers replenished with fresh sheaths of arrows. Now, as the arrow-storm showed no sign of ending, Crassus began to grow uneasy.

In desperation, Crassus took the advice of his gallant son, Publius; and attempted to drive off the swarms of horse archers by unleashing from within the square a cavalry charge of his heavier Gallic cavalry. Led by his son Publius, and supported by 500 foot archers and eight cohorts of auxiliary infantry, this mobile strike force did succeed in driving the horse archers temporarily away from the Roman main-body.

However, once Publius’ force was beyond the support of the legions, the Parthians used their mobility to surrounded Publius’ with combined attack of horse archers and armored cataphracts. In this fighting, the Roman’s Gallic cavalrymen found themselves at great disadvantage in melee against the cataphracts on their much larger horses. In short time, Publius Crassus was himself slain and his force annihilated.

The Parthians returned in force to assault Crassus mainbody. This time, they bore before them the head of Publius Crassus, mounted on a lance. The site seemed to unsettle the Roman commander, who was so overcome by emotion that he was incapable of speech.

Now, in conjunction with the horse-archer’s arrow barrage the cataphracts assaulted the Romans with a series of pulse-charges; striking home and them pulling back again. This combination of shock-and-missle attack devastated the exhausted and demoralized Romans. Only the fall of night saved Crassus’ army from total defeat that first day. As with all nomadic horse armies, the Parthians were forced by nightfall to withdraw a safe distance from the Romans, to prevent a night attack on their undefended camp and horse-lines.

Deeply distraught at his son’s death, Crassus gave over effective command of the army to his subordinate, Cassius. Cassius ordered a night march, in which the Romans retraced their rout back to Carrhae. The Romans managed to put distance between themselves and their Parthian antagonists, gaining Carrhae before dawn. The Romans realized the town had insufficient provisions to support the defeated army however. So, assembling in order of march, the weary Romans continued their march toward Syria in the morning heat.

Soon, however, galloping messengers from Surena caught up to them; with an offer of parlay. Crassus unwisely granted this request, halting the army and giving the Parthians time to catch-up to them.

Crassus and his officers met Surena and the Parthians under an awning.  During the negotiations a scuffle broke out, either planned or accidental; giving the Parthians cause to treacherously attack and murder Crassus and several of his officers.

Nearly leaderless, the army soon disintegrated, with contingents making off as each saw fit. Few survived the desert march back to Syria; though Cassius won applause back in Rome for his skillful handling of a force under his command; and in defeating a Parthian probe the following year into Cilicia.

Many of the legionaries surrendered to the Parthians in return for their lives. The Parthians appreciated the Roman’s fighting quality, and sent the Romans to garrison border fortresses along their far eastern border. Some years later, some of these Roman slave-soldiers fought with distinction against invading Chinese forces. When their fortress was captured, they surrendered honorably and were taken as mercenaries into Chinese service. They seem to have settled on the western end of the Great Wall, and genetic testing in recent years has revealed Italian genes among the local Chinese population!

The Surena captured all 7 of the Roman eagle standards; which would remain trophy’s of the Parthian victory at their capital of Ctesiphon-along-the-Tigris (near modern Baghdad) till returned to the Emperor Augustus over half a century later.

Before his death, Julius Caesar was preparing a second invasion of Parthia; to avenge Crassus’ disgrace.  Ironically, it was his murder at the hands of Cassius, the one man to come out of Crassus’ disastrous campaign with any measure of honorable distinction that prevented the Romans reversing the terrible decision of Carrhae.

Surena, whose brilliant handling of combined arms had enabled the Parthian victory, was rewarded by a jealous monarch with murder. Later Roman armies would win victories against the Parthians, who without a Surena in command were never as formidable as they were that blazingly hot day at Carrhae.

In the last decade television (particularly the “Premium” cable networks) has been the best forum to find really good historical drama. “Rome” (2005-2007), The Tudors (2007-2010), ”The Borgias” (2011-present): Rather than trying to cram the life-and-times of some great historical personage into a 2 hour feature film, the television mini-series format allows 10 hours per season, and multiple seasons to tell the story!

As these things go, the new History Channel television mini-series, “Vikings” is very entertaining fare. As a history lesson, however, it’s rather thin (and confused) gruel.

This commendable look at the life and adventures of the legendary Viking chieftain Ragnar Lothbrok is LOTS of fun to watch. Well cast, acted, and produced “Vikings” serves up a terrific vision of Dark Ages Scandinavian society. While not always accurate, it “rings true” in most respects.

The broad canvass looks good: the recreations of 8th century towns and the interiors of homes and long-halls, and particularly of Viking ships (a marvel in their own age) are both sumptuous and impressive in their detail. As a story, it holds together extremely well, masterfully written by veteran historical dramatist Michael Hirsh.

Where it goes wrong is in keeping its historical facts straight.

Ragnar Lothbrok (or Lodbrok) was a semi-legendary character. His life and deeds are recorded in his own sagas,  the Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok  (Ragnars saga loðbrókar) and the Tale of Ragnar’s Sons (“Ragnarssona þáttr”); written in the 13th century (four centuries after the events described). He is also mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, briefly, as the father of three warrior-chiefs who led “The Great Heathen Army” that invaded England in 865.  Finally, Ragnar and his famous sons are also mentioned in the Heimskringla saga, and in Saxo Grammaticus’ “History of the Danes“.

Enough, clearly, to warrant acknowledgement as at least a semi-historical character. Where the history ends and the legend begins is more difficult to discern.

Ragnar was a 9th century leader of Viking expeditions, that much seems apparent. Historians credit him with, among other exploits, the sacking the city of Paris in 845AD. He died around 865AD, when, shipwrecked on the Northumbrian coast of England, he was captured and executed by the Northumbrians. His killing was credited with inspiring his sons to invade England, seeking retribution.

In “Vikings”, we meet Ragnar Lothbrok (played by the intense and compelling Travis Fimmel) as a young man. He is ambitious and farseeing. He plans an independent expedition to the west, across the North Sea; sailing in a ship of unique design and using a proto-compass/sundial (actually used by the Vikings) to help successfully navigate the open ocean.

His ambitions put him at odds with his chieftain, Jarl (or Earl) Haraldson (well-played by the veteran actor, Gabriel Byrne); who sees the upstart Ragnar as a threat to his authority.

Defying his Jarl, Ragnar sails west; and in the story he “discovers” England. Sailing along the shore, he comes to the island monastery at Lindisfarne. Historically, the Viking Era began with the sacking of the monastery at Lindisfarne, in 793AD.  In “Viking”, this attack is credited to our hero, Ragnar.

Herein arises the first historical problem with “Viking”.

In the series, we meet Ragnar as a man in his mid-late 20s. If he were the leader of the raid on Lindisfarne, as the series portrays, then he would be an elderly man in his 70′s when the historical Ragnar Lothbrok led the Viking fleet that sacked Paris in the 840′s. He would then have to be a very unlikely 90+ year old Viking when he died in Northumbria, twenty years later!!

However unlikely, as a plot point putting Ragnar at Lindisfarne and making him the father of the Viking Era is brilliant. Michael Hirsh, who wrote “The Tudors”, is an accomplished and talented story teller; if one that never lets historical accuracy interfere with his story!

The timeline of “Vikings” isn’t its only problem, however. The storyline has Ragnar discovering a way across the previously unexplored North Sea, to raid England; utilizing a new and unique boat design (the prototype for future Viking longships). In the story, the Vikings are unaware of the lands to the west. Some voice the opinion that only the end of the world lies that direction.

Unfortunately, this is far from the historical truth. Scandinavian seamen had been sailing the North Sean and raiding the British Isles and the coasts of Western Europe since the Roman times. The English themselves had come from Denmark and northern Germany in the 5th and 6th century AD to conquer “Britain”; sailing in earlier versions of the longships later employed by the Vikings. So, to suggest that England and the lands to the west of Denmark were unknown to Ragnar and his people is simply silly.

I was also taken by the lack of armor on the part of Viking warriors. The Vikings wore shirts of mail or leather in battle; as well as iron helmets. These are wholly lacking in “Vikings”; except amongst their English enemies. The suggestion is that the Vikings disdained armor, or were not advanced enough to make it. Neither was the case.

But this is to pick nits in an otherwise excellent historical series.

The conflict between the young, ambitious Ragnar and the aging, unscrupulous Jarl Haraldson drives the plot of the series’ first season (thus far). It leads to Ragnar slaying the Jarl in combat, and becoming himself Jarl of his people. According to the saga, Ragnar was a king of parts of Denmark and Sweden. So this first assumption of power may be our series’ protagonist initial steps toward his eventual kingship.

“Vikings” is rich in supporting characters: Canadian-born actress Katheryn Winnick as Ragnar’s shield-maiden wife, Lagertha (who really “sells” the role); Clive Standen as his motivationally opaque brother, Rollo; and Swedish star  Gustaf Skarsgard as Ragnar’s half-mad friend, the boat builder Floki.

However rich the supporting casts is,  the success of ”Vikings” (and I think it will be a very big success) rests squarely on the well-muscled shoulders of its main character and star.

Australian  Travis Fimmel is one of those rare animals: a male model who can also act. Like fellow former Calvin Klien underwear model, Mark Wahlberg, Fimmel is much more than just a pretty face (or chiseled abs). He commands every scene, and is wholly believable as the young Ragnar. We, the audience, can readily see that he will grow into the legendary Viking leader we know Ragnar Lothbrok to have been.

If you enjoy historical drama but were suspicious of “Vikings”, you can relax and tune-in. You will not be disappointed.

On a bleak, windswept plateau in Yorkshire, on Palm Sunday 1461,  two Medieval armies clashed amidst a snowstorm; brutally hacking-and-slashing with sword, halberd and bill in what was to prove the largest and bloodiest battle ever fought on English soil. It would prove to be the decisive battle in the dynastic struggle known to history as the War of the Roses; establishing the House of York on the throne of England, and all but ending the reign of the Lancastrians.

The War of the Roses was a 30 year long conflict between adherents of two branches of the ruling Plantagenet dynasty: the House of York, whose symbol was a white rose; and the House of York, whose device was the red rose. The roots of the conflict lay partially in the competing claims of these royal cousins; and can be traced back to the deposition of King Richard II by his Lancastrian cousin, Henry of Derby; who took the throne as King Henry IV. While Henry was able to hold his usurped crown and pass it to his son, the heroic warrior king Henry V; the legitimacy of Lancastrian rule came into question in the reign of his grandson, Henry VI.

Henry VI suffered from bouts of “madness”; in which he was largely unaware of circumstances around him. He likely inherited this malady from his maternal grandfather, the French king Charles VI.  Control of the kingdom during the king’s periods of mental infirmity was granted by Parliament to his cousin Richard, the powerful Duke of York.

Under English succession laws, York’s claim to the throne was superior to that of the Lancastrian’s. As Protector of the Realm, Richard of York was too close to the throne for the liking of the adherents of the House of Lancaster; particularly the king’s wife, Queen Margaret of Anjou. When the king temporarily regained his senses in 1454, the Lancastrians used the opportunity to call a new Parliament; to which the Duke of York and his supporters were not invited. Not surprisingly, this Lancastrian Parliament stripped the Yorkists of their privileges. Armed conflict soon broke out, and in 1455 the War of the Roses began with the First Battle of St. Albans.

The fortunes of war shifted back and forth; the Yorkists gaining the advantage till at Wakefield, in December of 1460, the Lancastrians ambushed Richard of York’s forces and killed both the Duke and his 17 year old second son, Edmund of Rutland.

The late Duke Richard was succeeded both as Duke of York and leader of the Yorkist cause by his able eldest son, Edward of March. Just over a month after his father and brother’s defeat and death, he routed a Welsh force led by Owen Tudor at Mortimer’s Cross. It was before this battle that Edward’s army beheld a meteorological phenomenon known as parhelion; in which the rising sun appeared to be flanked by two lesser suns and a bright halo. From this he took his personal standard, the “Sunne in Splendour“.

Despite a second Lancastrian triumph at the Second Battle of St. Albans over Edward’s ally, Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick; Edward was able to join up with Warwick in London. There, on March 4, 1461, Warwick proclaimed Edward king. (Warwick would ten years later break with Edward and proclaim Henry VI once again king. From these acts he came to be known as “the Kingmaker”.)

The Lancastrian army, under Queen Margaret and her favorite, the Duke of Somerset, retreated to York; where their cause was strong. (Oddly, at this time in the war the Lancastrians were strongest in the north, with York a Lancastrian stronghold. Despite so many of their lords having titles in the south, such as Somerset and the Earl of Devon, the Lancastrians were detested south of the midlands.) Edward led a Yorkist army northward to bring the Lancastrians to battle.

The Yorkists moved along three routes. John Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk marched to the east of the main body, with orders to raise forces and rejoin Edward before the battle. Warwick’s group moved to the west of the main body, through the English Midlands, gathering men as they went. Warwick’s uncle, the very capable Lord Fauconberg, led Edward’s vanguard, clearing the direct route to York for the main body, led by Edward himself.

Bloody skirmishes occurred at Ferrybridge and at Dinting Dale; in which the Lancastrians led by Lord Clifford attempted to harass the Yorkist’s advance. On Palm Sunday, March 29, under a glowering sky and amidst a snowfall, the armies of York and Lancaster met between the villages of Towton and Saxton; about 12 miles southwest of York and 2 miles south of Tadcaster.

This was perhaps the largest Medieval battle in English history, and the numbers involved were impressive for any Medieval battle: the Yorkists alone numbered 48,660 according to muster rolls; though the  number to actually deploy that morning was much less, with as much as a third under Norfolk not yet arrived. Thus the some 25,000 to 30,000 Yorkists began the battle outnumbered by Somerset’s Lancastrians, who are variously estimated to number between 40,000 and 60,000 (almost certainly an exaggeration). Total number of combatants likely numbered 80,000. Approximately three-quarters of the Peerage of England fought in the battle, with twenty eight Lords of the Realm present (the majority on the Lancastrian side, only eight fighting for the Yorkist cause). Skeletons found in a mass grave in 1996 near the battlefield showed that the soldiers came from all walks of life; were on average 30 years old, and averaged 5’7″ tall  and very strongly built. Bone scaring shows that many were veterans of previous engagements, and bore the scars to prove it.

Both armies were deployed largely on foot, even the knights (men-at-arms) sending their horses to the rear. The primary tactics of the War of the Roses had armies deploy in three “battles” (divisions), each composed of archers and melee-troops. Most men wore some armor, the knights being encased in fine plate armor from head to foot. Because of the ubiquity of good armor, the primary weapon tended to be the pole axe (halberd) or heavy bill. War hammers were also popular with the chivalry. The long sword was common to all soldiers, high-born and low.

Battles were usually proceeded by exchanges of arrows, followed by a fierce melee at close quarters. Sometimes a reserve of cavalry would attempt flanking maneuvers; though how seldom even such elementary tactics were employed throughout the war is striking.

The Lancastrians were the first to deploy. Somerset started the day in a strong position, on rising ground with his flanks protected where the plateau dropped off; most steeply on the western flank, where Cock Beck creek flowed in an S-shaped course around the plateau from the north to west. This flanks also had thick stands of woods growing up to the edge of the battlefield. Somerset took advantage of this feature to conceal a body of troops; ready to fall upon the Yorkist left once they were engaged.

The Lancastrian position was sound, and blocked the road to York. The only drawback was that the narrowness of the plateau didn’t allow the larger Lancastrian forces the opportunity to bring their numbers to bear against the flanks of the Yorkists. Nevertheless, Somerset (or his chief advisor, the turn-coat former Yorkist mercenary captain, Sir Andrew Trollope) was content to stand on the defensive, and force Edward to take the offensive and defeat him.

View from Yorkist starting position. Across the low ground in the center is the high ground upon which Somerset’s forces were deployed.

Edward’s forces after noon; deploying as the snowstorm grew in bitterness. They took position opposite the Lancastrians, just out of bow range; low ground separating the two forces. Their  deployment took several hours, as stragglers arrived. Norfolk was nowhere in sight, and would in fact arrive many hours after the battle began. Despite his troop’s fatigue after their long march to the battlefield, and his inferiority in numbers, Edward ordered his vanguard to begin the battle.

The Yorkist cause was well served in Edward’s vanguard commander, William Neville, Lord Fauconberg. With a change of wind now blowing the snow heavily into the faces of the Lancastrians, he ordered his archers (armed with the famed English longbow) to advance to range and loose a single volley. He then ordered them to retire.

Finding themselves under fire, the Lancastrian archers returned fire. However, as the wily Fauconberg  for foresaw, with the snow in their eyes and the wind in their face they blindly fired volley after volley; all falling 40 yards short of the Yorkist line! They loosed until their quivers were exhausted, leaving the ground in front of the Yorkist line a porcupine quilt of spent arrows.

Fauconberg now once again ordered his archers forward.

Drawing their heavy yew bows, they now loosed volley after volley of clothyard shafts. The wind in their favor, these fell like in a withering hail amongst the packed ranks of the Lancastrian forces. When their quivers were emptied, they gleaned arrows from those spent Lancastrian arrows littering the slope, and returned them to their sender! As casualties mounted, Somerset was goaded into leaving his strong position and advancing to the attack.

Fauconberg recalled his archers, but not before they refilled their quivers from spent Lancastrian arrows still protruding from the ground. Though their is no clear record, it is safe to assume they continued firing over the heads of their comrades, into the melee that would soon develop.

The two main forces now clashed together, in bloody and fierce melee. Edward and Warwick were everywhere, encouraging their outnumbered soldiers. The eighteen year old Edward was particularly conspicuous, 6’3″ tall and imposing in his splendid armor; the quartered leopards-and-lilies of the Plantagenet kings on his surcoat, the Sunne-in-Splendour banner waving above him. This strong young warlord must have made a stark contrast to his Lancastrian rival, Henry, who was too sickly to even be on the battlefield!

As the two lines came together, a crises developed on the Yorkist left; where the Lancastrian forces hiding in the woods above Cock Beck now sprang out and fell upon the Yorkist flank. That flank gave ground, and some began to flee in panic. Edward rushed to the threatened sector, rallying his soldiers and setting a personal example of valor in stopping the enemy’s progress.

The battle raged at close quarters for an exhausting three hours. Bodies piled so high that breaks had to be taken, in order to remove the dead separating the combatants. The Lancastrians continuously threw fresh men into the fray and gradually the Yorkists were forced to give ground and retreat up the southern ridge. On their left they gave the most ground, so that the western end of the line was pushed furthest back, and the Lancastrian position now had its back to the steep slopes above the Cocks Beck creek.

At last, Norfolk arrived from the southeast, marching up the Old London Road, with the remaining Yorkist forces. These now joined the battle, pushing back the Lancastrian left. The Lancastrians fought on for a time, but momentum had clearly shifted to their opponents. Then, as happened in ancient and Medieval battles, the line suddenly gave way as men began to flee in panic.

The bloodbath now began in earnest.

The Lancastrians were pursued closely, their vengeful Yorkists enemies hot on their heals. Today, a low meadow on the western edge of the battlefield is known as Bloody Meadow; in remembrance of the slaughter there, where the pursuit began. Down the steep slopes of the Cock Beck, the fleeing Lancastrians tumbled into the icy creek. Here, and further north at the River Wharfe at Tadcaster,  exhausted and panicked men, most still wearing their armor, plunged forward and falling, drowned. This continued until enough of them were dead to form bridges of human corpses across which their comrades could cross. At Tadcaster a wooden bridge broke under the weight of the armed men, plunging many into the freezing water. At these crossing points the slaughter was greatest; as men in despair of crossing attempted to stand and fight; and were overwhelmed and slaughtered. At Tadcaster, others were hunted down and killed trying to hide in buildings and cellars.

The icy Cock Beck creek, where many Lancastrian soldiers drowned or were cut down while attempting to cross.

Many apparently had thrown off their helmets as they ran, and the ghastly damage seen on the skulls recovered in mass graves show just what happens when poleaxe, war hammer or longsword strike naked heads. The number of wounds (one victim’s skull displays eight separate wounds) speak to the frenzy of killing that overcame the pursuing Yorkists.

From Bloody Meadow to Tadcaster, the snow-covered fields were littered with bodies. The total dead were estimated by heralds to be 28,000; all by 8,000 being Lancastrian. The disparity can be explained easily, in that in all pre-modern battles the worst of the casualties were inflicted during the pursuit of a defeated enemy.

Many of the great lords of the realm were either slain here or executed shortly thereafter. These included the Earls of Northumberland and Devon,  Lord Dacre and Sir Anthony Trollope. Another prominent Lancastrian, Lord Clifford, had been killed just prior to the battle; at the skirmish at Dinting Dale. The Lancastrian cause was decimated, and would never recover. Margaret, Henry and Somerset fled north to Scotland, while those Lancastrian lords who were not killed or dispossessed of their titles were forced to make peace and acknowledge their enemy’s leader as King Edward VI.

The War of the Roses was all but over. Though it would continue to flare up over the next 20 years, these were short brush fires, not major conflagrations. Edward’s reign would last 21 years (“the Sun of York”). He would prove an able if not always wise king.

Bloody Towton, a most sanguine affair, assured his reign.

For more, go here to see a marvelous video by the Towton Battlefield Society.

Beginning with our earliest caveman ancestors, men have painted themselves before venturing forth to hunt or go to war. “War-paint” is used to this day, as we see modern warriors on the gridiron today, at the Super Bowl, painting their faces before entering the field of play.

The ancient Celts used a indigo blue dye, Woad, extracted from a plant of the mustard family,  to paint swirls of color across their naked or near-naked bodies. Together with effect caused by spiking their hair with lime, Woad lent the blue-painted Celts a fearsome aspect, terrifying to their civilized enemies like the Greeks and Romans.

(The seeds of this plant have been found in ancient Neolithic cave sites, so it is likely the Celts weren’t the first Humans to discover the value of using Woad as a “war paint”.)

The Polynesian people native to New Zealand, the fearsome Maori, took it one step further, by tattooing such symbols permanently on their faces and bodies.

In North America, the Native American peoples donned war paint as well before they went into battle.

But why?

Part of the reason is the obvious: the ferocious and frightening aspect this lends to the warrior/hunter. Another reason may lie in religious practice. We know that Roman conquerors, riding on chariots through the streets of Rome in triumph, painted their faces with vermillion to mimic the red-faced war god, Mars (or perhaps Bellona).

Another explanation may be for the same reason modern athletes and some military men rub black paint under their eyes and across their cheekbones: to cut down on glare. Sunlight can reflect off of sweaty cheekbones, causing a distraction at a critical moment. When being charged by an angry bison or by an enemy warrior, one needs to be totally focused, not blinded!

Modern warriors paint their faces for more practical reasons: as part of an effort to camouflage themselves in the colors and patterns of their background. Since at least WWII, American forces have used “cammie” paint (along with camouflage uniform patterns) to help blend into their environment.

Wither for religious, practical, psychological, or merely artistic reasons warriors of all types (from US Marines to NFL players) have always and will continue to paint themselves for war.

In 1204 a singular event occurred which shook the Western World: Constantinople, capital of the Eastern Roman (“Byzantine”) Empire,  long the bastion of Eastern Christendom and bulwark against Islamic expansion, was captured and sacked. Not by its Muslim enemies; but by an army of Christian “Crusaders”!

Thus began a period in which the Crusader movement became misdirected, seemingly attacking everywhere except to recover Jerusalem and the Holy Land!

From 1204 until 1272 there were eight Crusades (only six of which are counted as ”official” Crusades) launched. Of these, only two actually arrived in the “Holy Land” (Syria/Lebanon/Palestine).

The Crusader movement had indeed “gone wild”!

It should be remembered that the original purpose of the Crusades, motivated by Pope Urban II’s sermon at Clermont in 1095, was to succor the beleaguered Christian empire of Byzantium from the Seljuk Turks; and to recover Jerusalem and the Holy Land, captured by the Muslims in the 7th century. Yet in 1204, just 109 years later, Byzantium was captured and sacked by a Crusader army! How had this movement become so misdirected?

The answer is that like all things created by man, the Crusades were able to be turned to the uses of the venial and corrupt; to be used for their own purposes by powerful and ambitious men.

THE FOURTH CRUSADE

The Third Crusade had failed to liberate Jerusalem; ending instead with a negotiated settlement between Richard the Lionheart and Saladin. (See Part Two here) The dust had barely settled when the new Pope, Innocent II, was preaching another Crusade. After some time and effort, the Fourth Crusade was launched.

Pope Innocent III

In 1202, a 13,000 strong Crusader army of mostly French and Flemings contracted with the blind Doge (ruler) of Venice, Enrico (Henry) Dandolo, for transport to Egypt. From there, it was planned to deliver a crippling blow to the Ayyubids; the successors of Saladin who ruled both Egypt and Syria. From here, it was thought Jerusalem could subsequently be liberated.

However, the cost of transportation was more than the Crusaders could pay. They reached a compromise with the Venetians: to stop in route at the Adriatic coastal city of Zara; a former Venetian dependency now aligned with Hungry. As the Crusader army invested the city, the terrified citizens hung banners marked with crosses from the battlements and windows of the city; to show that they were fellow Catholics. This did not save them, and the Crusader forces nevertheless stormed the city; followed by the usual sack-and-pillage.

The unscrupulous Enrico Dandolo had  thus used the zealous but impoverished Franks to achieve Venetian political ends; however irrelevant to the goals of the Crusade.

When word reached Pope Innocent III, he was immediately outraged at this attack upon fellow Christians; and in a letter to the army’s leadership, threatened the Crusaders with excommunication. However, the Crusader leaders did not disclose the Pope’s letters to the rank-and-file; who continued to believe they had Papal absolution for any acts committed while on Crusade.

At this junction, an exiled Byzantine prince arrived in the Crusader camp; and history reached one of its turning points.

Alexios IV Angelos was the son of the deposed Emperor Isaac II Angelos. He now joined the Crusader camp as a guest of one of its leaders, Boniface, Marquess of Montferrat. He offered the cash-strapped Crusaders a seemingly splendid offer: restore him to the Byzantine throne, overthrowing in the process the reigning ”usurper”, his uncle Alexios III. In return, the exiled prince offered to pay the entire debt still owed to the Venetians, give 200,000 silver marks to the Crusaders, contribute 10,000 Byzantine professional soldiers for the Crusade, undertake the maintenance of 500 knights to be stationed in the recaptured Holy Land, the service of the Byzantine navy to aid in the transport the Crusader Army to Egypt, and (perhaps most tantalizing of all) to place the Orthodox Church under the authority of the Pope in Rome!

This was a staggering offer! Though the wily Dandolo, who had extensive knowledge of the situation in Byzantium, must have known that these were pipe dreams well beyond the ability of any Byzantine Emperor to deliver (the Empire’s treasury was near empty, her once proud fleet mostly scrapped, and neither the Orthodox clergy nor the people of Constantinople would ever submit to the Pope’s authority); the less informed Frankish leaders were eager to accept Alexios’ offer. Doge Dandolo had his own reason for encouraging the redirection of the Crusade to Constantinople.

Byzantium had once been the master of Venice, then its ally, and in the last century a commercial rival. Like many other states, the Venetians had long maintained a merchant community resident in Constantinople. The Venetians had proven to be bad guests in the city, brawling with their rivals, the Genoese, in the streets and demonstrating scorn for the city’s Greek citizens. In 1171, the Emperor Manuel I Comnenus had expelled the Venetians from the Empire; confiscating all of their property. War had followed, and a state of tension had existed ever since.

Some historians have speculated that Enrico Dandolo had a more personal grudge against the Byzantines. It has been suggested that he lost his eye site as a younger man,  as a result of a blow to the head received from the Greeks during a riot in Constantinople. Though there is no proof for this, if true it adds a personal motivation to what was to come.

Now, with the Crusaders willing to divert their efforts against Constantinople, the Doge had found a perfect opportunity to strike a blow against his city’s enemy, and to settle an old score.

The Crusader armada arrived at the great city at the beginning of July, 1203. Landing outside the suburb of Galatia, they found themselves opposed by the Byzantine army drawn up for battle. The Frankish knights disembarked and charged immediately. The fury of their attack routed the Byzantine forces, some of whom fled into Galatia. The Franks, hot on their heals, captured the gates of this vital suburb; and with it the Tower of Galatia. This fortress warded Constantinople’s main harbor, the Golden Horn. A chain normally stretched across the harbor, from the Galatia Tower to a similar bastion on the opposite shore, at Constantinople. With the Galatia side captured, this “boom” was lowered, and the Venetian armada sailed into the Golden Horn.

Land Walls of Constantinople

The Crusader army set up camp to the northwest of the city, opposite the Blachernae Palace; the current residence of the Imperial family. On July  17, the siege began in earnest; with the Franks attacking the land walls, and the Venetians assaulting the weaker seawall guarding the harbor side of the city.

Constantinople boasted the strongest defenses of any city in the Western World. Positioned on a broad peninsula, the landward side was guarded by a defensive system of triple walls. The outer-most and lowest wall was a mere breastwork, defended by a water-filled moat (though in 1204, the moat had been left in disrepair and was dry). The middle wall was some 27 feet high, and was in turn overlooked by an even higher inner wall, whose towers reached up to 70 feet. Each wall could provide covering fire over the one before it.

Constantinople had been under siege before: By Persians, Avars, Slavs, Arabs (twice), Bulgars, by the Rus (three times), and by native Byzantine forces during time of civil war. Never before had it fallen.

However, this was the first time the harbor had fallen to an enemy, and while the Franks tied down the best Byzantine troops (the elite Varangian Guard), Venetian galleys sporting siege ladders assaulted the much weaker harbor wall. When the Varangians rushed to repulse the Venetians swarming over the battlements and into the harbor district, the Venetians set fire to that quarter before retreating. The fire greatly damaged the city, destroying some 120 acres of houses and shops, leaving some 20,000 residents homeless.

Alexios III now led a large part of the garrison outside the city, against the Franks opposite the Blachernae district. Despite outnumbering the Crusaders, the Emperor lost his nerve and retreated back into the city without striking a blow! This disgrace turned the army against him, and Alexios fled the city, taking with him much of what remained of the treasury. The Byzantine officers deposed the Emperor; and returned to the throne the deposed emperor, Isaac II.

This left the Crusaders in an embarrassing position. They had achieved the deposition of the “usurper”. But their real aim of seeing Prince Alexios’ promises realized could only be met with the exile on the imperial throne. Eight years of imprisonment (including being blinded) had left Isaac II enfeebled, and his wits addled.  So, it was agreed by both sides that his son would be made co-Emperor, as Alexios IV.

But it was now Alexios’ turn to be embarrassed, as it became apparent that his promises were hollow. In an attempt to pay the Crusaders the promised silver, he ordered bejeweled and gilded religious icons to be stripped and melted down; as well as handing over whatever of value remained to the church or in the Imperial Palace. This shocked and estranged the Byzantine populace, who quickly turned against the Emperors. Fighting in the streets broke out between angry mobs and the Crusader forces, supporting their ally Emperor. Large portions of the city were again burned down by the Venetians, as a way of driving back the mobs.

The situation reached a boiling point in January of 1204. A nobleman of the Imperial Court, Alexios Doukas (nicknamed “Mourtzouphlos” because of his thick eyebrows),  staged a coup, overthrowing Alexious IV and subsequently having him strangled. His father, Isaac II,  apparently died of shock at this turn of events.

The Crusaders, incensed at the overthrow and death of their ally, demanded that Mourtzouphlos honor the agreements made to them by Alexios IV. Mourtzouphlos refused, and the Crusaders renewed their attacks on the city.

However, the new Emperor was a soldier of some ability, and with the support of the army and citizens was able to repulse all attacks for two days. But on the third day of assaults, the new emperor lost his nerve, and fled the city. Despite this, the army fought on; the Varangians in particular inflicting bloody casualties upon the Venetians along the sea wall. On April 12, 1204, the Crusaders used fire to push back the defenders and to expand foot holds gained within the walls. Much of the city was damaged, and its residents turned into refugees. Finally, on April 13, the city fell to the Crusaders.

What followed was the most shameful chapter in the history of the Crusades; as Constantinople, capital of the ancient Eastern Roman Empire, was subjected to three days of vicious sack-and-pillage. Nothing and no one was spared: not churches or monasteries, nor palaces or the lowest hovels. Rape and murder were the order of the day.  One author described the scene thus:

The Latin soldiery subjected the greatest city in Europe to an indescribable sack. For three days they murdered, raped, looted and destroyed on a scale which even the ancient Vandals and Goths would have found unbelievable. Constantinople had become a veritable museum of ancient and Byzantine art, an emporium of such incredible wealth that the Latins were astounded at the riches they found. Though the Venetians had an appreciation for the art which they discovered (they were themselves semi-Byzantines) and saved much of it, the French and others destroyed indiscriminately, halting to refresh themselves with wine, violation of nuns, and murder of Orthodox clerics. The Crusaders vented their hatred for the Greeks most spectacularly in the desecration of the greatest Church in Christendom. They smashed the silver iconostasis, the icons and the holy books of Hagia Sophia, and seated upon the patriarchal throne a whore who sang coarse songs as they drank wine from the Church’s holy vessels. The estrangement of East and West, which had proceeded over the centuries, culminated in the horrible massacre that accompanied the conquest of Constantinople.

The Crusading movement had reached a moment of supreme irony: started, in part, in response to an appeal by their Byzantine co-religionists for aid against the Turks; the Fourth Crusade saw Byzantium sacked as savagely by the Christian Franks as it would have been had it fallen to its Seljuk enemies.

Following the fall of the city, the Crusader lords would divide up the remnants of the Byzantine Empire between themselves. Baldwin of Flanders would be named “Emperor” of a Latin Empire, set up to replace Byzantium. Boniface of Montferrat would be named King of Thessalonica. Geoffrey of Villehardouin and William I of Champlitte would conquer Athens and the Peloponnese, setting up the Principality of Morea, which would endure for a century. All the Crusader states established upon the ruins of Byzantium would eventually be recovered by the Byzantines in the following century.

Byzantium, however, would never recover. Its last centuries would be spent recovering its territories from the ”Latins”, under the Palaeologus dynasty; and in defending itself from the growing power of its Ottoman Turkish neighbors.  Constantinople, once the largest city in Europe, would become a virtual ghost town. Even after it was recaptured by the Byzantines in 1261, it never recovered either its population or its power. Large swaths of the city were never rebuilt after the fires of 1204. When the Ottoman Turks finally captured the city in 1453, it was but a hollow shell within its still-great walls.

Ruins of the  Blachernae Palace, residence of the Medieval Byzantine Emperors. It was in this section of the walls that the Franks broke into the city in April, 1204 

NEXT: THE LAST CRUSADES

To listen to discussion of “Crusaders Gone Wild!”, to here to my appearance on the Silvio Canto Show!

SALADIN AND RICHARD

In 1187, Saladin invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem, after numerous provocations by over-zealous Crusader lords. He met and defeated the Kingdom’s army at the Battle of Hattin (also called the  “Horns of Hattin”, or the “Battle of Tiberius”).

Battle of Hattin

Saladin personally beheaded the perfidious Crusader lord, Raynald of Châtillon; the man most responsible for the current outbreak of hostilities and one of history’s great villains. In a show of chivalry, he spared King Guy and most of the prisoners (though the captured members of the Crusading Orders of the Temple and the Hospital were all executed).

The army defeated at Hattin (some 20,000 strong) represented the complete military muster of the Kingdom. All but skeletal garrisons had been stripped from the fortresses and towns. Saladin was therefore able to sweep through the Kingdom, capturing everything south of the Levant, including ultimately the Holy City itself, Jerusalem. Only the costal city of Tyre was saved by the timely arrival of Crusader forces from Europe.

The response in the West to the collapse of the Kingdom of Jerusalem was profound. Within two years, a grand Crusade was launched to recover the situation. This Crusade, the Third, was grander in the number of Kings and rulers that participated in it, than any before or after.

Leading the Third Crusade were, first-and-foremost, the three most powerful rulers in Europe.

Frederick Barbarossa was Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. In order of precedence, he was the premiere ruler in the West. He owed fealty to none, and only the Eastern Roman/Byzantine Emperor could be considered his equal. Frederick was a veteran campaigner, and had led a long and celebrated life. He was the first to set out for the Holy Land, in 1189, leading a huge muster of German warriors. It was stated by chroniclers of the day to be as high as 100,000 men, with 20,000 of these being knights; though the number given of knights is more likely to be that of the total.

Second in precedence to Barbarossa was the King of France, Philip II Augustus. 25 years old at the time of his departure on the Crusade, he was eager to erase the ignominy of his father, Louis the Pious’ failure in the Second Crusade. Philip was less a warrior and more a careful planner. His life is one long, step-by-well-laid-step effort to increase royal authority and recover lost lands.

The force he led on Crusade was, though, very modest in size though elite in make-up: a mere 650 knights and twice the number of squires. This miserly force can be explained by the fact that at this stage of French nationalism, the various territories of France were controlled by great landed magnates, Philip’s vassals. The land actually under the direct control of the King of France was only the area immediately surrounding Paris (called, appropriately enough,  Isle de France). The force taken on Crusade by Philip likely represented his personal “Mesnie” (military household) and those who held land within the Isle de France.

The greatest of Philip’s vassals was by far Richard Plantagenet. As King of England, Richard was both Philip’s equal and his rival. But as heir of his father Henry II’s vast French territorial empire, he was the greatest land owner in Europe; most of these lands being in France, where Richard owed fealty to Philip. In Normandy, Gascony, and Aquitaine, Richard was Duke; in Anjou, Angers, and Maine he was Count; and in Brittany he was overlord. (Richard was also ruler of much of Ireland and Wales!) Richard enjoyed the greatest reputation in Christendom as a warrior, being called “Richard Cœur de Lion“, or Richard the Lionheart. As a warrior, he took second-place only to his great vassal, William Marshal (perhaps the greatest knight ever to live).

Richard brought on Crusade a larger force than Philip, some 8,000 men. It gives us a glimpse of how poorly developed were the economics of the age that Richard, though one of the greatest landowners and overlords in all Europe, had to extort the richest men in his kingdom (including but not limited to the Jews of England) and nearly mortgage his holdings to finance this fairly modest army.

Barbarossa’s army advanced overland, while both the kings and lesser magnates traveled by sea. When the Emperor’s army reached Hungary, Frederick was joined by 2,000 Hungarians led by Prince Géza. All seemed propitious.

The German host crossed Anatolia, making for the city of Iconium (modern Konya), capital of the Seljuk Turkish Sultanate of Rum. There they were met by a Seljuk army, led by Qutb al-Din. Barbarossa split his army, with half under his son, Duke Frederick of Swabia, attacking the lightly defended walls; while the 68 year old Emperor personally directed the battle on the plain against the swarming Turks.

The town fell after a short effort; but the battle was hard fought. At one point Frederick rallied his flagging troops by crying, “But why do we tarry, of what are we afraid? Christ reigns. Christ conquers. Christ commands“. The Germans redoubled their efforts, and the Turks at last broke and fled.

News of Barbarossa’s success so alarmed Saladin that he began dismantling the walls of Syrian towns along the German’s expected path; to keep the enemy from garrisoning them in their wake.

But at the River Saleph in Cilicia, disaster occurred. Impatient at the slow pace his army was making crossing the river’s single bridge, the old warrior dismounted and attempted to walk his horse across the river. However, the current proved deceptively stronger than Barbarossa expected; too much for both the horse and the heavily mailed Emperor. Both were swept away, and Frederick was dragged down by the weight of his armor.

Grieving over their dead Emperor, most of the German troops returned home. A much reduced contingent of 5,000 continued on to Antioch, under Barbarossa’s son, Henry Duke of Swabia.

RICHARD AND PHILIP

In July 1190, Richard Plantagenet and Philip Capet sailed together from the port of Marseille with their respective armies. The armada stopped in Sicily, where Richard’s sister, Joan, had been married to the late King, William II. The new king, Tancred, had imprisoned Joan; earning Tancred the wrath of her powerful brother. Richard stormed and captured Messina; and Joan was quickly released by her captors.

While wintering in Sicily, Richard surprised everyone by announcing his engagement to a Spanish princess, Berengaria of Navarre. In so doing, he repudiated his long-standing betrothal to Philip’s sister, Alys (who had spent much of the betrothal as his father, Henry II’s, mistress.) This caused a rift to develop between the two kings that would ultimately undermine the Third Crusade.

Philip left Richard and departed Sicily in March of 1091, arriving in May at Christian-held Tyre in the Holy Land; where the Crusader army was assembling. Philip and his army moved on to Acre, held by Saladin’s forces, now besieged by the growing Crusader army and the remnants of the forces of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, commanded by King Guy.

Richard departed Sicily a month later, conveyed by an armada of 100 ships, carrying some 8,000 troops. However, along the way a storm caused a portion of his fleet to run aground on Cyprus. Those ships contained not only Richard’s treasury, but his wife and sister!

The island was held by a violent and hot-tempered Byzantine prince, Isaac Dukas Comnenus. He had taken control of the Cyprus during a few years earlier, declaring his independence from Constantinople. An opportunist and adventurer, he had an unsavory reputation as a rapist and ”debaucher of innocent women”. This character now seized both Richard’s treasure and the royal women.

Landing in Cyprus with the bulk of his forces, Richard responded in typical fashion: he conquered the Island! Both his treasure, and his sister and fiancé were returned unspoiled. According to tradition, Isaac surrendered to Richard on promise he would not be clapped in irons. Richard honored this promise by imprisoning Isaac in chains made of silver!

Richard married Berengaria while in Cyprus; then set sail for Acre. He arrived ashore on June 8, 1191. He found the siege in disarray, the Crusader army much reduced by disease and fractured by conflicting political rivalries. Saladin and his army had occupied the area outside the Crusader camp, hemming them in and cutting off forage. The besieging army, which had been there since August of 1189, found itself under siege. Several attacks upon the Crusader camp by Saladin had depleted Christian forces. Subjected to constant harassment and threat of annihilation, King Guy’s forces had made little progress in reducing the city.

Camp-disease had further reduced the Crusader forces. The German forces had lost their leader, Henry of Swabia, Barbarossa’s son.  Newly-arrived Leopold Duke of Austria had taken over the Imperial forces; but he was a man of little military ability. King Guy’s leadership and legitimacy had been recently undermined by the loss of his wife, Queen Sibylla, who too had died of whatever sickness was sweeping though the Crusader camp (most likely a dysentery, caused by lack of proper sanitation). His rival, Conrad of Montferrat, lord of Tyre, had first abducted and then married the legitimate heiress to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The vacant throne of Jerusalem was now disputed, and the overall leadership of the Crusade in doubt.

Unable to get the leaders to agree upon any course of action, the fiery Richard shrugged off any objections and immediately took command of the Crusader army. He began constructing siege engines and towers to bombard and assault the city’s walls.

Richard, though ill, took an active part in attacking the city. When able to stand, he personally supervised the bombardment and helped repel counter-attacks by the garrison. When too sick to stand, he was carried about in a liter, from which he used a crossbow to pick-off defenders on the battlements! Strong or ill, Richard was the consummate Medieval warrior!

Acre lay on a peninsula in the Gulf of Haifa, approachable mainly from the north. This approach was warded by a double barrier of walls supported by towers. Attacking it was no easy matter. Despite this, rapid progress was made, and the walls were breached. The garrison appealed to Saladin, hovering with his army in the surrounding hills, to attack the Crusader camp and break the siege. But Saladin realized the Frankish camp and siege lines were too well defended. On July 12th, 1191, the long siege ended and Acre surrendered.

It would remain in Christian hands for another century, becoming the new capital of the Crusader kingdom.

There now followed two ugly incidents that were to mar the Third Crusade; one of which would ultimately have dire consequences for Richard the Lionhearted.

At the city’s surrender, the Crusader leaders planted their banners atop the battlements. Richard and Philip, as kings of England and France, placed theirs centermost and higher than any others. However, as leader of the German forces, Duke Leopold of Austria felt his banner should be placed on an equal footing with Richard’s and Philip’s.

Richard did not agree. Considering Leopold’s actions presumptuous of a mere Duke, he had the Austrian banner cut down and thrown into the city’s moat. This insult would not be forgotten, though Leopold had to bide his time to avenge it. In the meantime, he left the Holy Land and returned to Austria in a fury.

The other incident occurred after a month of haggling between Richard and Saladin over the exchange of prisoners. As negotiations dragged on, a frustrated Richard finally ordered the execution of the 2,700 prisoners. A furious Saladin responded in kind, executing the Christian prisoners in his keeping.

After the city fell, Philip departed the Crusade and returned to France. Partially his motives were to settle a dynastic dispute concerning one of his most powerful magnates. But he was also deeply angry with Richard over the English king’s high-handedness. Once back in France, he would conspire with Richard’s unscrupulous younger brother, John, to undermine Richard’s throne.

Numerous skirmishes took place outside of Acre in the weeks after the city’s capture. In many of these, Richard performed deeds that left a deep impression on the minds of his Saracen foes. In one such fight, Richard was engaged by a mighty champion of Saladin’s personal guards. Wielding a 5′ long Danish battle axe (his favorite weapon), the Lionheart allegedly cleaved the Saracen champion from shoulder  down through to his pelvis; burying the axe in the cantle of the victims saddle!

THE BATTLE OF ARSUF

In August 1191, Richard began his march south along the coast.  Mindful of the deleterious effect the Palestinian heat had on European troops in their heavy mail armor, Richard kept close to the sea; where the breezes brought some relief from the oppressive heat, and the right flank of the column was protected by the sea. The Christian fleet sailed down the coast in close support, a source of supplies and a refuge for the sick and wounded.

Richard had given careful attention to the disposition of the marching column.  Aware of the ever-present danger of Saladin’s army mirroring their march in the hills overlooking the coast, he kept the army in tight formation. The infantry marched on the landward flank, covering the horsemen and affording them (and their vital chargers) some protection from harassment by the missiles of mounted Turkish raiders. The outermost ranks of the footmen were composed of crossbowmen, whose shot outdistanced that of the Turkish composite bow. Kept within the center of the column were the twelve mounted regiments of knights, each 100 men strong. These were a powerful weapon, but whose charge could only be unleashed once. As such, Richard gave strict orders that none were to leave the safety of the column and engage enemy raiders without his direct command!

On the seaward side was the baggage train and the non-combatants.

As the Crusader army pushed south, Saladin watched from the hills and waited his opportunity to catch the column in disarray. However, despite the nagging harassment of Saladin’s Turkish light horsemen, the column proceeded steadily south in tight order. A Muslim chronicler and eyewitness described the march thus:

“The Muslims were shooting arrows on their (the Crusaders) flanks, trying to incite them to break ranks, while they controlled themselves and covered the route… traveling very steadily as their ships moved along the sea opposite them, until they completed each stage and camped.”

The same chronicler noted that in the daily exchange of archery, the lighter Turkish arrows had little effect upon the mailed Christian knights; with “one to ten arrows sticking from their armored backs, marching along with no apparent hurt”. Meanwhile, the Crusader’s crossbows struck down both horse and man amongst the Muslims.

Finally, at dawn on September 7, 1091, Saladin launched an all out attack with his entire army upon Richard’s column. The place he chose for this was the “Wood of Arsuf” (also called Arsouf), where a forest came down close to the coastal road. From the concealing woods, Saladin’s forces fell upon the marching Crusader army.

The presence of numerous Turkish scouts as the army broke camp and began its march warned Richard that an attack might be imminent. In preparation, he placed the military orders, the Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitallers, at the head and rear of the column (respectively). Richard and picked officers rode up and down the column, ensuring that the ranks remained firm and none left their station.

As the attack developed, the column found itself assailed from the landward side by Egyptian, Bedouin, and Turkish skirmishers. Arrows and javelins fell like rain upon the Christian soldiers. When this harassment failed to disorganize the marching column, or induce the mounted knights to charge out where they could be isolated, Saladin switched tactics and personally led an attack by his right wing upon the rear of the column.

Here the Hospitallers found themselves attacked at close quarters, in flank and rear; by mounted Ghulams (elite guards) of Saladin’s own Household. The Order infantry had to lock shields and march backward, the Hospitaller crossbowmen having to load and fire walking backwards. It was Saladin’s hope that he could thus slow and detach the rearguard from the Crusader mainbody; and to then defeat it “in detail”.

Inevitably, the rearguard began to loose cohesion. As gaps opened, Saladin’s armored Ghulams drove in with sword and mace, inflicting casualties and widening these gaps in the formation. In despair that the entire formation might collapse, the Grand Master of the Hospitallers personally led a counter charge by his mounted knights.

Dismounted Turkish Warrior

Seeing the Hospitallers thus committed, Richard ordered the trumpets to sound the charge. From the rear (where the Hospitallers were already charging) to the front of the column, the various mounted contingents charged in turn; the infantrymen opening ranks to let them pass through.

Richard’s timing proved fortuitous. The Muslim horses were beginning to tire, and especially on their right, where they were in close contact with the Hospitallers, the lighter Muslim horse and foot had drawn too close to the Crusader column to avoid the crushing charge of the Frankish knights. As a result, many were rode down; and the rest were quickly put to rout.

Saladin’s army was broken, and lost some 7,000 dead (as opposed to only some 700 Crusaders), including the Sultan’s own nephew, who had commanded Saladin’s picked Ghulams. It was a crushing defeat, though Saladin was able to quickly rally the survivors.

Richard kept his army in hand, not allowing the knights and mounted sergeants to pursue. Victory in hand, the Crusader army reformed and continued its march towards Jerusalem.

Despite the victory at Arsuf, Richard found the road to Jerusalem still blocked. Day-by-day, his forces grew weaker due to sickness and exhaustion. Continuing down the coast, Richard captured Ascalon. Now the whole of the costal strip was in Christian hands. However, the Crusaders lacked the strength to push inland and take Jerusalem.

Through 1192, Richard negotiated with Saladin. Both sides were eager to end the war and normalize their relationship. Richard, in particular, wanted to end his sojourn in the Holy Land; and word had reached him of his brother John’s intrigues back home. He risked loosing his throne the longer he stayed away.

Finally, in September 1192, a treaty was signed ending the Third Crusade. While Saladin would hold onto Jerusalem, the Crusader Kingdom would be left in peace with what it now held. Additionally, the Holy City would be open to Christian pilgrims to visit the shrines of their religion unmolested.

It was an imperfect end to the Crusade, and many in Europe were disappointed that the “King’s Crusade” had failed to recapture Jerusalem. The Muslims were equally unhappy with the treaty, and even Saladin had misgivings. Saladin’s servant and biographer, Baha al-Din, recounted Saladin’s distress at the successes of the Crusaders:

‘I fear to make peace, not knowing what may become of me. Our enemy will grow strong, now that they have retained these lands. They will come forth to recover the rest of their lands and you will see every one of them ensconced on his hill-top’, (meaning in his castle) ‘having announced, “I shall stay put” and the Muslims will be ruined.’ These were his words and it came about as he said.

Richard sold Cyprus to Guy of Lusignan, the former King of Jerusalem; leaving his own nephew, Henry Count of Champagne as the new king (Henry had recently married the heiress, Queen Isabella; whose husband Conrad had been assassinated by the “Hashishins“).  He then left the Holy Land and sailed for home.

In league with John to steal Richard’s throne, Philip of France had closed all French ports to Richard. The king therefore sailed up the Adriatic and traveled from Venice north through Austria; intending to travel incognito through the lands of the Empire. However, near Vienna he was arrested and imprisoned by his enemy, Leopold; the slight of cutting down the Austrian Duke’s banner at Acre now coming back to haunt the English king.

Richard would languish in Austrian confinement till 1194; after which he turned his brother out and regained his throne.

Saladin died shortly after Richard, on March 4, 1193 departed the Holy Land, in Damascus, struck down by a fever. His son and successor kept the peace Saladin and Richard had made.

The Third Crusade had been a qualified success. While failing to fully restore the Kingdom of Jerusalem, it had left the Crusaders strong enclaves along the coast; from which they would, in future years, attempt to maintain an independent Christian state in the Holy land. More Crusades would be launched to aid in this endeavor, but none would be as celebrated in memory or in popular culture as this, the “King’s Crusade”; or its heroic and legendary leaders: Richard the Lionheart and Saladin!

                                                                                                              Effigy of Richard

Go here for Part 3: Crusader’s Gone Wild!

This term is used in a variety of ways reflecting very different emotions; from admiration and excitement, to mild annoyance, to a euphemism for the more offensive “son of a bitch”! On of the oldest of meanings is closest to the last of these; used to describe an individual of particularly ornery temperament.

The origin of this term harkens back to the days of the “tall ships”. In the  17th and 18th century, the crewmen of those majestic sailing ships slept below deck, in mesh hammocks slung (among other places) between the guns.

Deprived for long periods at sea of feminine company, when the ship was at  port the crew were often allowed to have their women onboard (the Officer of the Deck, presumably, turning a blind-eye); kept discreetly below deck.

When a crewman’s pregnant woman went into labor, and the labor proved particularly long and difficult; the lady was placed on the deck between two guns (or cannons, for those unused to military terminology). The gunners would then simultaneously fire off both guns, on either side of the lady in question. The terrific concussion would often jar the baby loose.

A child so born was thereafter called, “A son of a gun”!

A child delivered by such a violent method was often observed, throughout his or her life, to be possessed of a particularly irascible, pugnacious temperament. Not surprising, considering the damage the concussion may have caused the child’s tender brain tissue!

This is the seventeenth-part of our discussion of Britain in the so-called Age of Arthur: the 5th though the mid-6th Century A.D. It is a fascinating period, with the Classical civilization of Greece and Rome giving way to the Germanic “Dark Ages”. It was the sunset of Celtic-Roman culture in Britain; it was the Age of Arthur!

(Read Part Sixteen here. Or start from the beginning, with Part One!)

Arthur had arrived at Badon Hill (Mons Badonicus), come fresh from his victories in the North against outlaws and Angle pirates (remembered by Nennius as the 10^th and 11^th of “Arthur’s Twelve Battles”: the Battles of the River Tribruit and the Hill of Agned).  Atop Solsbury/Badon Hill, he could clearly see the Saxons swarming below the walls of Badon, less than two miles away.

Bath (Badon) viewed from atop Solsbury Hill

For Ælle, Arthur’s sudden arrival must have come as an unpleasant shock. The Bretwalda would have heard that Arthur and his vaunted horsemen were in the north, supposedly too far away to interfere with his move against Badon (Bath); the keystone to his strategy aimed at driving a wedge between the northern and southern British kingdoms. Now Arthur was on the high ground behind the Saxon army, dominating  Ælle’s line of communications.

Strategically, it was an unacceptable situation for the Saxon.

Ælle’s reaction was likely to have pulled back from the bloody, all-out assault on Badon’s walls; and to regroup his warriors to face the new threat.

The stage was now set for the Battle of Badon Hill, the last of Nennius 12 Battles of Arthur. But before laying out a plausible description of the battle, let us take a few moments to reexamine the forces and leaders involved.

THE SAXONS

According to the Anglo Saxon Chronicle,  Ælle was the first king to be called Bretwalda (“Britain Ruler”). While more a “first among equals” than a true king of all the Anglo-Saxons, he likely had the auctoritas to call a great number of the disparate Saxon kings and warlords to his standard when required. The army he brought to Bathon was undoubtedly one which included warbands from all of the Saxon (and possibly Angle) “kingdoms” in Britain.  It must have included a great number of the Anglo-Saxon warriors of Britain; in that its defeat proved decisive, stopping (and in fact pushing back) the Saxon advance in Britain for sixty years.

The core of Ælle’s host was the thanes of his own “Gesith” (what the Roman writer Tacitus called a “comitatus”), the sworn “hearth warriors” of his household. Every Germanic warlord maintained a retinue of young warriors who ate, slept, and fought beside him. These would die before deserting their lord, and in battle they provided the professional edge of well-equipped fighting men for every Saxon army. Ælle’s three sons, Cissa, Cymen and Wlencing likely fought beside their father as well; though the eldest and heir, the Ætheling Cissa may have had a body of hearth-troops of his own.

The “Gesith” of a great chieftain such as Ælle may have numbered as many as 300 proven warriors. Later Scandinavian kings and Jarls maintained such bodyguards, called hirðmenn/hirthmen; numbers ranging from just 60 men for a Jarl to as many as several thousand for a wealthy and powerful king such as Cnut the Great. Most Anglo-Saxon chieftains in this earlier, poorer period would have had much smaller retinues; perhaps based upon the “keel”, or ship’s crew of between 30 and 60 men.

Along with the professional warriors of his household, Ælle would have brought the levy of free-born Saxon farmers. In later Anglo-Saxon society, this would be called the fyrd. In these early days of constant raid-and-counter-raid between Saxon and Briton, every Saxon was a warrior: land would only be given to warriors capable of defending it and supporting their king in time of war.

Along with his own South Saxons, the horde Ælle brought west to Badon included the men of Kent, led by their own king, Oisc “Big Knife”, son of Hengist (though alternate sources name his as “Octha of the Bloody Knife“). Geoffrey of Monmouth (hardly a reliable source) names the Saxon leaders as Cheldric, Colgren and Balduph; but these names should be considered mere placeholders for unknown (to him) Anglo-Saxon warlords . From up-and-down the east coast of Britain, every Anglo-Saxon pirate and petty-king joined Ælle in this great campaign against the hated “Welsh”.

As described earlier, such an expedition against the “Welsh” would have attracted land-hungry warriors from not only Anglo-Saxon Britain, but from across the North Sea, from the homelands of the Anglo-Saxons as well. Geoffrey of Monmouth speaks of Germans being brought from across the sea to reinforce the Saxon leaders for this campaign. This no doubt reflected the actual arrival of many such “Vikings”, flocking to take part in the despoiling of Britain. Small numbers of Franks, Frisians, Danes, and Gotar (from southern Sweden, remembered in “Beowulf” as the Geats) may have sailed to Britain to take service under the Bretwalda, in anticipation of rich plunder. Warriors gathered about a successful chieftain’s standard if he showed himself a generous “gift giver”; and land was the most prized reward a chieftain could give to a warrior of the Dark Ages. Much of Ælle’s motivation for making war against the Britons in the west was the need for land to grant the land-hungry new-comers from across the sea that followed his standard.

One question must be asked: was Cerdic, wily leader of the “West Saxons” present?

As outlined earlier, Cerdic is described in these early days of the West Saxon people as an Ealdorman (“Elder Man”) [1]. Ealdormen were not independent rulers; but officials answerable to an Anglo-Saxon ruler. As speculated earlier, Cerdic’s master was likely Ælle of the South Saxons.

As an officer of the Bretwalda, Cerdic would have been expected to answer the summons to war against the Britons. His holdings, within the marshy coastal region of Hampshire, bordered Dumnonia in the west. His warband could either march north to join Ælle’s host at Badon; or move directly, by land or sea; harrying the Dumnonian coast. It is likely that he did one or the other: merely sitting out the war would have been to defy his master’s summons. Such an act of defiance against the most powerful ruler in Britain on the eve of what surely would have seemed his triumphal final campaign; risked not only being left out of the rich booty to be gained, but being branded a rebel against the Bretwalda he served.

So, though we have no way of knowing if Cerdic was present at Badon, his participation in the campaign in some fashion is highly likely. But as part of Ælle’s great host besieging Badon, or as a diversionary force raiding the Dumnonian coast?  That Cerdic’s death is recorded as being in 534, nearly two decades after the battle, lends weight to the latter possibility.

That Cerdic and the West Saxons warband might have harried the Dumnonian coast as Ælle laid siege to Badon might also explain Geoffrey of Monmouth’s contention that the Saxons came by sea; landing at Totness, near Devon:

“…[the Saxons] went on shore at Totness. No sooner were they landed, than they made an utter devastation of the country…”

Geoffrey (perhaps working from now-lost Welsh or Cornish sources) has the Saxons marching north from Totness to Badon, murdering and pillaging as they went. Could his account come from sources that confused Cerdic’s costal raid with the movement of Ælle’s main host (by land) against Badon? Or, attempting to reconcile the two separate operations, conflates them into one?

In any case, with-or-without Cerdic’s West Saxons the savage host Ælle brought to Badon likely was the largest ever marshaled by an Anglo-Saxon leader to that date. It likely numbered not less than 3,000 warriors, nor more than 5,000.

The “Saxon” warriors that followed Ælle would have been equipped with a round shield made of planks of linden wood, covered with tough cowhide; gripped behind a heavy projecting iron boss.  His chief weapon would have been either a light spear, useful for throwing or retaining for melee; not dissimilar to the late Roman lancea. However, both angons (heavy throwing spears) and francisca (throwing axes) have been found in Saxon graves of this period. These were the defining weapons of the Franks; arguing both for Frankish elements in early Saxon warbands, and a cross-pollination of weapons (and techniques) in such a heterogeneous force.

As previously discussed, the hallmark weapon of a Saxon warrior was his seax. This large, single-edged utility knife was ideal for use in the close-quarters battle that resulted when shield-wall met shield-wall, or when men wrested on the ground in a death-grapple. It was also perfect for finishing-off enemy wounded littering a battlefield!

Chieftains and better-armed warriors would also carry a broadsword, the favorite weapon of the noble Germanic warrior. By the 4^th century, the common sword of all Roman soldiers had become the “spatha”; the proto-broadsword formerly used only by cavalrymen. Such weapons would be re-hilted and highly decorated when captured or acquired by Anglo-Saxon warriors (as would other pieces of Roman armor, such as helms).  Such weapons transferred high status to a warrior in Germanic/Scandinavian society; and were imbued with mythic/magical properties. Famous heroes carried famous swords, which bore names of their own: Sigurd the Dragonslayer bore Gram (“wrath”), and Beowulf the sword Hrunting (“roarer”). Later Viking-Age Scandinavian swords bore names like “Leg-biter”, “Skull-splitter”, and “Peace-Breaker”.

Poorer warriors might carry a scramsax, a longer version of the seax.

Mail shirts, called byrnies, were also items of high status, and confined to chieftains or the wealthiest of warriors.  After victorious battles against the Romans or Romano-British, mail shirts might be scavenged. But these were in short supply even amongst the British; likely only found in officers and elite cavalry units.

In battle, the Saxon host would form up in one-of-two formations: either the shield-wall, a linear formation in which the warriors of the first rank overlapped their shields, forming a wall. Or, when on the attack, the “Boar’s Head” (also called the “Swine Array”) could be adopted. In this formation, the chieftain and his household warriors formed a wedge; and would attempt to penetrate and shatter an opposing enemy line.

THE BRITONS

The British warriors who fought at Badon had come to call themselves Combrogi (or Cymry), meaning “fellow-countrymen” or “comrades”. The term “Welsh” (meaning “ foreigner”) would have been insulting to these native British warriors.

The memory of Rome was distant, though reflected in their military organization and equipment. The bulk of the army was comprised of spear-armed infantry pedyt (from the Latin pedites, or “foot”). These were militia, part-time soldiers; drawn from the towns and fortress garrisons. These were likely organized in “legions” of 1,000-1,200 men each; approximately the same size and structure of legions of the late Roman army. Supporting this assumption is one version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which describes the 4,000 British casualties at the Battle of Creacanford as “four troops”. A smaller unit, called a “Cant” (likely a derivation of the Roman centuriae), consisted of 100 men; suggesting a “legion” of spearmen divided into ten centuries, as with the late Roman legio.

As was the practice with the late Romans, a small number of every legio might have been armed with bows, instead of the usual lancea (light spear) or spiculum (heavy throwing spear/javelin). Auxilia cohorts of archers (sagittarii) also existed; and Britons may have continued both of these traditions into the 6^th century.

The elite “professionals” of a British army were the cavalry retinues of the nobles, called Teulu, “Family”. Despite their name, these were picked men from both the noble’s own tribe and, in the case of great warlords, adventurers from other lands. In this respect they were very similar to the late Roman Bucellarii. These wore mail shirts and helmets of late Roman pattern; and fought with spear/javelin and sword. However, the Romans had settled large numbers of Sarmatian heavy lancers in northern Britain. Their “horse culture” had permeated throughout the native Celtic aristocracy. As discussed previously, it is possible these and Alani settlers in Armorica (Brittany) by the great Roman commander, Flavius Aetius [2], provided Arthur (and Ambrosius Aurelianus before him) with a Teulu of Sarmatian-type heavy cavalry lancers.

The cavalry force that Arthur brought from the north to Badon likely numbered not less than 300, nor more than 1,000.  As suggested earlier, the Combrogi of Arthur’s own Teulu likely numbered around 300 at full strength. This was a standard establishment for late Roman cavalry units, called vexillatio. Contemporary Byzantine/Eastern Roman practice at the time was unchanged, though the late Roman 300-man vexillations were now called Bandon.

We have postulated here earlier that Arthur’s own Teulu was of the heavy lance-armed Sarmatian/Alani type; known in the late Roman army as cataphractarii.  Their role in the Roman army was both to protect the flank of the main infantry line in battle; and to provide a powerful shock weapon capable of breaking enemy formations. Such regiments of Roman cavalry were often armored in bronze and iron, sometimes including the horse as well as the man. Arthur’s Combrogi were likely more lightly armored: Britain in the late 5^th century/early 6^th century lacked the financial resources available to the Romans. A typical Arthurian Teulu horseman was likely equipped with iron mail or scale shirt, augmented perhaps by banded (or splint) armor on all or part of their arms and legs. An iron helmet of the late Roman type, likely sporting a crest or horse-tail, protected their heads.

Their chief weapon was a lance or spear. This could have been either the 12’-long kontos normally carried by Sarmatian-style lancers; or alternately a shorter, single-handed spear and shield (Arthur is many times mentioned as carrying a shield in battle, which would suggest the latter).  A military cloak would add a jaunty completeness to his panoply.

Along with the Combrogi of his own Teulu, Arthur may have collected along the way south the Teulu’s of other British leaders. These would have been lighter than his own, but still very useful in battle against the Saxons, who had no cavalry. These would have made up for losses and attrition among his own Combrogi.

THE BATTLE OF BADON HILL

Approaching Badon (Bath), Arthur would have come along the Fosse Way as it descended down the ramp-like spur of the Banner Down towards the Avon valley. Turning west off the road, he and his band would have ascended the steep slopes of Badon hill; known today as Solsbury Hill.

Here were the remnants of an old Iron Age hillfort. From here, Arthur’s few hundred Combrogi could survey the Saxon host below, safe from sudden and overwhelming assault; while in a perfect position to threaten Ælle’s line of communications to the east.

It was a threat the Bretwalda could not ignore.

Likely leaving a portion of his forces to maintain the blockade of Badon town (perhaps King Oisc “Big Knife”, and his Kentish warriors), Ælle now moved his main force northeast, against Arthur on Badon Hill.

Attacking uphill against a force of heavy cavalry capable of charging down was a dangerous proposition. The only way infantry can resist a charge of heavy horsemen is to maintain close-ranks, and hold steady against the horsemen’s terrible impact. This is made doubly hard by the added impetus a downward slope gives to a charging horseman; and for a large infantry force, keeping good order while advancing in line uphill is extremely problematic.

Slope of Solsbury/Badon Hill

Cognizant of all this, Ælle may well have halted his forces at the foot of the hill, and mulled over the best way to dislodge Arthur from atop the hill.

The Annales Cambriae say that Arthur fought at Badon carrying “the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders for three days and three nights…” This entry suggests a battle (or, as Gildas describes it, an “obsessio“: a siege) lasting 3 days; and that Arthur bore  the symbol of a cross painted on his shield. But if Badon was 3 days long, that time period might well have begun with Ælle arriving and laying siege to the town of Badon; which would explain why Gildas refers to Badon as a siege.

Alternatively, Arthur might have camped atop Badon Hill, surrounded, while Ælle considered the best way to attack him.

View of slope, looking down from Solsbury Hill

We know the end, we can only guess at the details of the battle. But elaborating on the scenario we have presented, a plausible narrative of this decisive battle of the Saxon wars unfolds:

Thirty miles to the south Cado/Cato, the Dumnonian warlord whom Geoffrey of Monmouth calls “Cador, Duke of Cornwall”, is mustering the levy of Dumnonia at a refortified Iron Age hillfort, known today as Cadbury Castle.  We have suggested earlier that Cado ap Erbin was a petty-king of a region of north Devon and perhaps even the over-all king of Dumnonia. Now word reaches his headquarters that Arthur has arrived at Badon. It is time to move! With the forces he has thus far gathered, he now breaks camp and marches north to relieve Badon.

Cadbury Castle hillfort is but a day’s hard march from Badon. Ælle’s hand is forced: as to wait another day will find his forces caught between Cado’s army coming from the south and Arthur’s small but deadly band atop Badon Hill to the north. He must seize hold of the initiative, and clear Arthur away from his line of supply (and, in the worst case, his retreat). With his rear thus secured, the Bretwalda can reunite his forces at Badon; and face Cado’s Dumnonians in battle.

Despite the risks,  the Bretwalda orders his warriors to assault the heights.

We can picture the Saxons forming a long and fairly thick line, many ranks deep; advancing slowly up Badon Hill’s steep sides. Their leather-covered shields are brightly painted, and a variety of standards wave above the contingent warbands. The hill is much wider at its base, and as the Saxons climb higher up the slopes their ranks must contract; causing disorder as men jostle each other for space.  The grass is bright with morning dew, or perhaps dampened by a pre-dawn downpour, common in the West Country summers. This makes the grass slippery under their feet, and the maintaining of ordered ranks nearly impossible.

Above, poised like an eagles ready to strike, are Arthur and his armored Combrogi. His men have tightened their saddle girths, mounted their horses, loosened their waiting swords in scabbards, adjusted shields on arms and lances in hand. Their steed’s snorting breath is perhaps the only sound atop Badon Hill; or, alternately, they break into a battle song: these are the forefathers of the Welsh, after all, the sonorous singers of the Celtic race.

As the Saxons draw ever nearer, Arthur watches keenly, waiting for the moment. Ever closer the Saxons come; becoming  increasingly exhausted in the process, their ranks ever more ragged as they ascend the high, steep slope.

The moment comes: Turning to his signaler, Arthur nods. The trooper raises horn to lips, and its high keening trill sounds atop Badon Hill.  Shouting their battle cry, the Combrogi spur forward; over the lip of the hill,  and down the steep slope in a glittering, thunderous charge!

From Hal Foster’s “Prince Valiant”, showing charge of Arthur’s cavalry at Badon Hill. Though fancifully armored and dressed as 10th/11th century Medieval knights, this image gives a good impression of the fury of Arthur’s Combrogi cavalryment in the charge down the slopes of Badon Hill

 They form a mighty wedge, with Arthur and his chief champions, Cei the Tall and Bedwyr “of the Perfect Sinews”, at its point. Deep into the faltering Saxon ranks they plunge, stabbing and skewering, spears and lances piercing the mail byrnies of Saxon chieftains and champions like tissue paper!  The Saxon shieldwall shatters, and in moments Ælle’s host is broken and fleeing back down the hill in panic.

What followed was bloody pursuit, and for Arthur’s victorious Britons a lifetime of vendetta and blood debt was paid with interest!

         Heavy was he in his vengeance;

        Terrible was his fighting…

         They fell by the hundred!

Nennius tells us of Arthur’s final victory at Badon:

 “… in it nine hundred and sixty (Saxon) men fell in one day, from a single charge of Arthur’s, and no-one lay them low save he alone.”

We should not take this to imply that Arthur personally slew 960 Saxons; but that the charge of his Combrogi did such slaughter; and that no other warlord or king could claim the credit but he.

Likely the aged Ælle was among those who fell in this initial charge: Arthur would have aimed his attack, like a thrown javelin, straight at the heart of the Saxon horde; where the Bretwalda’s standard stood high. Their king dead, his sons and best men slain around him, the bonds of oath and allegiance that held this savage horde together were sundered.  What moments before had been a conquering army was now a rabble fleeing in blind terror! Close on their heels were Arthur and his ravaging Combrogi, their reddened swords rising and falling, cutting men down like ripe corn.

Two miles to the southwest, Oisc “Big Knife” and his Kentish men were camped about beleaguered Badon town. Perhaps Oisc attempted to wheel his men north to rally their fleeing comrades. If so, in this they failed. Or perhaps, as Geoffrey of Monmouth implies, Cado arrived from the south and took a significant part in the battle by falling upon Oisc’s warriors from behind. They, too, now fled the scene of slaughter!

But fleeing to safety was no easy matter. The Saxons were far from home, penned-in between Cado and Badon to the south and west; the river Avon to the east and south; and Arthur’s horsemen now hunting men down on the flat ground at the base of Badon Hill. In the narrow chokepoint between the bend of the Avon and Badon Hill, clogged with fleeing Saxons, the slaughter and carnage must have been terrible indeed. It was here that a generation of Anglo-Saxon leaders and warriors perished.

That Oisc son of Hengist too was slain (likely in the pursuit that followed) is conjecture. But his death at around the same time as Badon makes it likely. Alternately, he may have lived to return to his stronghold at Cantwareburh (Canterbury), only to soon die of his wounds, or perhaps of a broken heart.

Ælle, first Bretwalda of Anglo-Saxon England, almost certainly died at Badon. His sons likely perished there as well: his house went extinct after this period, leaving no trace (though later Medieval writers attempted to fill in the gap in the Sussex royal line by assuming Cissa survived and ruled another 90 years!).

Gildas writes that Badon resulted in ‘the last great slaughter’ of the Saxon invaders by the Britons. It ended the long period of violent warfare that had begun when Hengist and Horsa led their Saxon feoderatii against their employer, Vortigern, in the 450s. According to Gildas, the consequences of Badon were that the Anglo-Saxon expansion was stopped and thrown back; and up to the time of his writing, some 30 years later, the Saxons were still dwelling quietly along the eastern fringes of Britain.  Modern archeology confirms this: Anglo-Saxon grave sites retreat after Badon; and much of the “lost lands of Lloegyr” were recovered for a time.

Another side-effect of Badon was to elevate the wiley Cerdic from ealdorman to king. Surviving the slaughter at Badon, Cerdic returned to the marshy coastal fastness of Hampshire. In 519, with his erstwhile master Ælle now out of the picture, Cerdic declared himself King of the West Saxons. His was a dynasty that would last through the centuries, leading to Alfred the Great and his son and grandson, Edward and Athelstan; who together succeeded in uniting England as one kingdom in the 10^th century.

Had he been at Badon, Cerdic would likely have faced the same fate as his master, Ælle. The future of Anglo-Saxon England might have been very different, indeed.

For Arthur, Badon was the ultimate triumph. It represented the high-water point of his military career. His days as Dux Bellorum, the war leader of the Britons, had come to an end. A golden age of peace lay before him and Britain, and a new title: amerawder, “imperator”: the Emperor Arthur!

[1] Myres, J.N.L. (1989) The English Settlements. Oxford University Press, pp. 146–147

[2] Bernard S. Bachrach, “The Origin of Armorican Chivalry”: Technology and Culture 10.2 (April 1969), pp. 166–171

Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Hastings. Called by many historians one of the “Decisive Battles of History”, Hastings was the culmination of years of dynastic intrigue surrounding the English throne; following the death of the childless King Edward the Confessor. That year, 1066, saw England the prize in a three way war; a war of Three Kings.

Edward was raised in exile among his mother’s relatives at the court of Normandy during the kingship of the Danish conqueror, Canute the Great. Once on the throne of England, Edward favored his Norman kinsmen and friends. The 24 years of his reign were marked by tension between his English lords and Norman favorites.

The leader of the English nobility in opposition to Edward’s pro-Norman policy was the powerful Earl of Wessex, Godwin. Related to the House of Canute by marriage, he was leader of the strong Anglo-Danish faction of the English nobility and common folk. Eventually Godwin forced Edward’s Norman favorites out of England, becoming the “strong-man” behind the throne in Edward’s later years as king.

When Godwin died, his place beside Edward was taken by his strong son, Harold Godwinson, who inherited his father’s title of Earl of Wessex. Harold used his wealth and position at court to build a private army of Anglo-Danish warriors, called Huscarls (“House Men”). With these he defeated a coalition of rival English lords and the Welsh Prince, Gruffyd, from 1055-1057. He then warred successfully in Wales in 1063, killing Gruffyd and bringing peace to the Welsh Marches.

The following year, a momentous event occurred. Harold and his youngest brother were shipwrecked off the NormanCoast.

Normandy was ruled by the stern and capable Duke William (called “the Bastard”). A cousin (or half-nephew) of Edward the Confessor, William had been encouraged by the childless Edward to expect to be named as his heir. However, William had learned the lessons from earlier in Edward’s reign regarding English hostility to Norman influence; and knew he had to win over the powerful House of Wessex to his cause if he were to peacefully ascend to the English throne.

Fortune intervened in his favor when the Earl of Wessex himself washed ashore in 1064.

William rescued and entertained Harold that summer at his court at Rouen. He even took Harold on campaign with him against the rebel Count of Brittany; in the course of which Harold performed acts of heroism which earned him his “spurs” and the accolade of knighthood from William’s own hand.

Scene from the Bayeux Tapestry, depicting William knighting Harold Godwinson with his own hands

Little details remain and scholars argue over the depth of the two men’s friendship. It seems likely, though, that the two most powerful men of either side of the English Channel developed a respect for each other and friendship that goes far to explaining the enmity and sense of betrayal that underlines William’s later actions.

At some point, while at the court of Rouen, Harold was tricked into swearing, upon a box containing the bones of a long dead saint, to uphold William’s claim to the English throne. Such an oath carried great legal weight in 11^th century Christian Europe; and Harold, once he realized what he had done, was said to have noticeably paled. Perhaps he had already set his own sights on Edward’s throne, and at that moment realized he had dangerously compromised his claim.

Harold returned to England, where events proceeded rapidly.

His brother, Tostig Godwinson, the Earl of Northumbria, had been ejected by his liegemen in favor of two sons of an earlier Earl. Recognizing his brother’s poor performance as Earl, and wishing to avoid civil war, Harold accepted the new Northumbrian Earls, the brothers Edwin and Morcar. In so doing, he earned Tostig’s enmity. Tostig fled England, and eventually arrived at the Norwegian court at Nidaros; where reigned the Norse king, Harald Sigurdson, called Hardrada (or Hardrede: “Hard-Council”, or “Harsh-Judgment”).

In 1065, Harald Hardrada was considered the greatest warrior in the North, if not in all Europe. Said to be seven-feet tall and broadly built, he had been a fighting man since old enough to wield a sword. As a young man in exile from his homeland, he had ventured to the distant Court of Byzantium. There he won a great renown (and an even larger fortune) as a leader of the famed Varangian Guard; the Scandinavian “corps de elite” of the East Roman Emperors.

Returning to Norway in 1047, he seized the throne that had once been his older brother’s. His subsequent reign had been a period of war and centralization; as he brought the turbulent and independent Norse landholders under royal authority. For many years he campaigned in Denmark as well, in an attempt to unite the two countries under his sword and recreate the Empire of Canute.

Tostig Godwinson found in Hardrada a patron with ready ear for intrigue. Between the two men, a scheme was hatched to invade England and unite Norway and England as one. What Canute had wrought two generations earlier, could not the Champion of the North do as well?

Meanwhile, in England, Edward the Confessor’s long reign finally came to an end in January of 1066. On his deathbed, he was said to have named Harold Godwinson as his heir; though in Normandy, William openly disputed this claim as an invention of his rival. The English proto-Parliament, called the Witan, met and elected Harold Godwinson King of England.

Harold was fully aware of the two other men prepared to contest the English throne. Throughout the summer of 1066, the English militia, called the Fyrd, stood ready on land and sea. Watch was kept along the coast, with the strong English fleet patrolling the English Channel. That year Haley’s Comet appeared over the European sky, and was called in England the “Fire-Drake” (fire dragon). Throughout the North, men saw this as an omen, heralding momentous events to come.

In Normandy, William prepared to back his claim to the throne of England with force of arms; and to avenge himself upon his erstwhile friend and oath-breaker, Harold. It was no small endeavor, and though they accepted the justice of their Lord’s claim, many a Norman lord looked upon William’splans with trepidation. William set about in the Spring of 1066 to bolster their resolve, and to gather recruits to his banner. In pursuance of this, he sought and received Papal support from Rome. The breaking of an oath, particularly when given upon the bones of a Catholic saint, was a serious legal offense in Medieval Europe. It also didn’t hurt William’s cause that all southern Italy and Sicily was controlled by the Norman Fitz-Tancred dynasty, who were the Pope’s chief defenders against his rival, the Holy Roman Emperor; and who were deferential to their Norman Duke back home.

Harald was subsequently excommunicated by the Pope, and a papal legate delivered to William a Papal banner, to symbolize the support of Holy Mother Church. This religious sanction gave William immeasurable political and psychological advantage. The morale of his vassals was greatly strengthened in the fearsome undertaking to come. It also encouraged pious adventurers from all over Northern France to flock to his banner, in order to win religious indulgence by smiting the “Usurper”, and perhaps new land in a conquered England.

Even with this Papal support, the conquest of England must have seemed a daunting task.

England was a far larger and, in theory, stronger country than the Duchy of Normandy. Her fleet controlled the channel, and William had nothing that could be called a navy to oppose the English “Sea Fyrd”.  This was manned by experienced seamen, captained by men who were in many cases former Vikings; and filled with detachments of axe-wielding Huscarls, experienced at fighting on shipboard.

On land, the Normans had the advantage of mailed cavalry, provided by William’s knights and vassals. The knights of Normandy were considered

the finest heavy cavalry in Western Europe; and had won battles from France to Sicily.  However, in 1066 it had yet to be shown that heavy cavalry could prevail over the steady, close-ordered infantry of the English “shieldwall”, perfected by English and Scandinavian armies over the previous three centuries. Harold’s Huscarls in particular had a fearsome reputation throughout Europe. These “knights who fight on foot” were all veteran professional warriors, many of whom had served in the Varangian Guard in their youth; or in the service of one of the various Scandinavian kings. Their five-foot Danish long-axes were said to be able to hack through shield and mail as if it were tissue!

William’s first task was to get his growing and now-eager host across the Channel, in the face of English naval superiority. With no apparent way to do so safely, William bided his time throughout the summer, waiting for fortune (and God) to send him the opportunity he needed.

All that summer of 1066,  England held its breath. Harold found himself in the unenviable position of having to surrender the initiative to his enemies. He could do naught but wait, and try to keep his levies in the field. Unfortunately for him, summer turned to fall and still his enemies failed to materialize. Feudal obligation demanded he disband the Fyrd, both by land and sea, so that this country militia could return to their farms and bring-in the autumn harvest.

No sooner had the levies gone home, than word arrived from the north of England that the opening of the three-way campaign of 1066 had come: Harald of Norway had landed near York. In September of 1066, Harald Hardraade and Tostig Godwinson invaded England, coming with a large invasion fleet of Viking longships and experienced Norse warriors. By the time word of the incursion reached Godwinson in London, the Norse had already met and routed the Northumbrian levies at the Battle of Gate Fulford. York was on the verge of surrendering.

In response, King Harold Godwinson forced-marched north with an army composed of his Huscarls and levies hastily gathered along the way. He arrived on September 25^th , in time to intercept Hardrada  and the Norse army as they marched unarmored (though not unarmed) to accept the surrender of York. At a river crossing called Stamford Bridge, the two armies met.

For a while, the narrow bridge was held by a single, gigantic Norse warrior (whose name, sadly, is unrecorded). Time-and-again Harold sent forward

champions from his own Huscarls to clear the bridge. Each time, the Viking champion sent them back reeling. Finally, a Huscarl in a small boat worked his way under the bridge; and with a spear stabbed between the boards and under the Viking champion’s mail skirts. The Norse warrior fell, mortally wounded; and the English crossed the bridge.

Hardrada had used the time gained to prepare his host for battle. As the English now approached the Norse shieldwall, deployed beneath King Harald’s raven banner known as ”Landwaster”,  Tostig Godwinson came out to parlay with his estranged brother. King Harold offered his brother clemency if he would surrender himself. But when asked what terms he offered Tostig’s ally, Harald of Norway, the reply was “Six feet of English earth to be buried in (or as much more as necessary, as King Harald is larger than most men”!

With that, a ferocious battle erupted. Though mighty warriors, the Norse suffered from their lack of armor; and though they had few archers, an English bowman struck the decisive blow when an arrow struck Hardrada in his unprotected throat. Even after their famous lord was slain, the Norse fought on. Reinforcements arrived under Hardrada’s Marshal, Eyestein, from their distant ships; but these were exhausted by their long run from the coast to the battle. These too were defeated, and within hours of its beginning the battle ended with the routing of the Norwegian army; with both Hardrada and Tostig Godwinson slain.

Though the redoubtable Hardrada was thus dispatched, Harald Godwinson found no time to savor his triumph. While still at York, dire word reached him that William the Bastard had crossed the Channel, landing near Pevensey.

In the absence of the English naval levies that had been dismissed with the coming of autumn, William had taken advantage of unexpectedly good sailing weather and his rival’s distraction in the North to pounce upon England like a leopard upon his prey! Taking advantage of the opportunity the late season and the Norwegian invasion had given him, William and his Normans crossed the channel on the 28^th of September, just two days after Stamford Bridge.

The Norman army of 1066 has variously been estimated as high as 60,000 (William of Poitiers) and as low as 4,000 strong. Christopher Gravett of the Royal Armories plausibly places their number at the lower end of the spectrum: 2,000 chivalric horse, 4,000 heavy foot, and 1,500 bowmen; for a total of 7,500.

After establishing a base near the coast, William needed to find a way to bring Harald to battle quickly. He knew that time was against him: if the full English levy could be reconstituted, the numbers against him would preclude a successful battle; and his invasion force could be easily contained and starved in Kent. With winter coming, the Channel crossing would be closed, and his supply line from Normandy cut. He needed a battle soon, before Harold could gather additional strength and his supplies grew scarce.

To lure his enemy south, William employed a strategy of devastation. Spreading out from their base near Hastings, Norman mounted detachments pillaged deep into Sussex; lands that were once part of the Earl of Wessex’s demesne. This was more than just a raid to replenish supplies: it was a personal insult and challenge to King Harold, to defend his people if he dare!

Harold had not been sluggish in responding to the Norman invasion. Five days after receiving news of Williams landing, he was back in London. After a rest of several days, allowing some of his levies to arrive back from their fields, his army moved south toward the Normans at Hastings.

On the early evening of 13^th of October, 1066, the last Saxon King of England leading the last Saxon army arrived at the fixed muster place: Caldbec Hill. Directly to the south, the London-Hastings road passed over a ridge and descended into marshy valley before rising up and over another rise, Telham Hill. It was to the northernmost of these rises that Harold would on the morrow array his army: Santlache (“Sandy Stream”) Hill; later punned by the Normans as Senlac (“Blood Lake”) Hill.

The Normans spent the night of the 13^th and early morning of the 14^th in prayer and confession; the English likely in the deep sleep of the exhausted. At daybreak, William led his army out of camp toward Telham hill; arriving there in about an hour. Telham Hill was just 800 yards from where Harold was arraying his forces on Senlac. As the Norman column mounting the hill, William paused to survey the scene.

Senlac Hill as viewed from below. The Battle Abbey was build atop the position of the Saxon Shieldwall. The slope, eroded by centuries of rain-runoff, would have been steeper in 1066AD

His eyes would have taken in the terrain and position of his enemy just north of his own: the Saxon army deployed on the ridge of Senlac Hill, directly across from his position. He could see that their array took up the whole ridge from end to end, some 800 yards long, and ten ranks deep!

The English were arrayed in their traditional “shieldwall” formation. To William it would have appeared as a densely packed, brightly painted rampart of shields, with the new-day sun glinting off the mail shirts and polished helmets, the spear-heads and axe blades of the warriors arrayed behind it. Their front ranks would have comprised the best armed and equipped men in the English host: Huscarls, and the leading thegns and their retainers. Behind these would be the more numerous and lightly men of the Fyrd. All would have been similarly armed with spear or Great-axe, sword and dagger, and often tomahawk-like belt axes for throwing at the enemy prior to contact (the Bayeux Tapestry, woven later by ladies of the Norman court, depicts the Saxons hurling hammers and maces as well) .

The shields of the English shieldwall would have been one of three types, as depicted by the Bayeux Tapestry. Most often shown is a “kite shield”, the same that was carried by their Norman enemy. These were long shields round on the top and pointed at the bottom. The second most depicted shield was a concave round (lentoid) shield, held by a central grip behind a large center iron “boss”. This shield type differs from the more familiar “Viking” round shield, which was flat and not concave. Experiments in recent years with these type of shields have shown them to be amazingly strong and resistant to impact. The third type, shown on only a few panels, is a rectangular or oval shield with rounded corners, not dissimilar to a later Roman scuta, or rectangular shields of the Rus.

Whatever their design, the English shields that formed the shieldwall at Senlac were drawn-up tightly together, likely overlapping; and covered the ridgeline from end-to-end.

The English numbers are as controversial as those of the Normans. Medieval chroniclers numbered them a preposterous 30,000; though a more realistic number would be about that of his rival: 7,000. Of these, the Huscarls were the professional and most effective part. But these had been sorely tried at Stamford Bridge; and were unlikely to have numbered more than 2,000 at the battle.

William would have noted that the ground directly separating Telham from Senlac was firm, a sort of saddle between the two hills. But immediately to either flank, on the east and west, the ground became marshy as two separate steams began on either side of the saddle. Behind and to the flanks of Senlac, the ground fell off more steeply, and was heavily wooded to the rear. Thus the fight to come would be straight forward, with little opportunity for the Normans to flank, or the Saxons to withdraw.

At 8:00 am, the Norman columns filed down from Telham and deployed in the valley below Senlac. William sent his men forth with the stirring words, “Now is the time to show your strength and the courage that is yours! There is no road for retreat!” They knew they must conquer or perish!

To the left, taking station on the western flank of William’s army, was the Breton contingent. To the right, forming on the eastern flank, were the Flemings. And in the center, opposite Harold’s own twin standards of the Wessex Dragon and The Fighting Man, were Duke William and his indomitable Normans.

Each of these three divisions were arrayed identically, in three lines. The first ranks were archers, the second heavy-armed foot, and the third and final comprised the chivalric heavy cavalry.

The battle commenced at the start of the third watch, or 9 am. A brazen peal of trumpets sounded, signaling the Norman onslaught!

The archers of the first line advanced to bow range, and at 100 yards began the battle with a barrage of arrows. Up they flew, towards the hedge of overlapping shields. Like a hail storm, the feathered shafts clattered against the interlocked shields! Due to the angle of fire and the protection afforded the Saxons by their shieldburg, the arrow storm did little damage; mostly bouncing from the shields or sticking harmlessly in their wood and leather faces.

As the archers passed back through the ranks to replenish their quivers from supplies in the rear, William sent in the second line of armored footmen, who now advanced up Senlac’s slope.

As they ascended the slope, the waiting English replied with a din of their own: weapons clanging on shields, and cries of “Holy Cross!” and “Godemite!” (God Almighty), and “Ut! Ut!”, (Out, Out!). As the Norman foot neared the shieldwall, its ranks opened, and out came a shower of throwing weapons! Axes and javelins, rocks thrown by hand or sling, and even maces and hammers designed to be slung at the foe! Under this fusillade the Norman ranks gave back a step, and fell never to rise again.

Modern Reenactors reflect the fierce resolve of the Saxon shieldwall to repel the Norman assault with cries of, “Ut!”

Advancing onward, the Norman footmen charged the last few yards into the shieldwall, and a brief and terrible flurry of blows followed! Back they staggered, away from the shieldburg, as the spears and Great Axes took a fearsome toll. Though competent soldiers, the Norman foot were no match for these fearsome victors of Stamford Bridge.

A retreat began all along the line, and the Norman foot was soon falling back down the hill in mass.

Now the trumpets sounded again, and as the Norman infantry licked their wounds and regrouped in the valley below, the banners and lances of the Norman Chivalry fluttered and dipped all along the valley floor. Forward they surged, the mailed cavalry of Northern France, the proudest warriors in Christendom! First at a trot, then a canter, stretching into a gallop as they pounded up the gentle slopes of Senlac!

In the center, in front of William and his banner, the gallant troubadour Taillefer (“Cut Iron”), the Duke’s own minstrel, led the charge. To him had been granted the privilege of striking the first blow amongst all the Chivalry. As his horse ascended the slope of Senlac, far outdistancing those behind him, Taillefer tossed his lance into the air and caught it repeatedly, all the while singing verses from “The Song of Roland”!

At the top of the ridge, English champions stepped forward to meet him. The first he slew with his lance, a second went down before his gleaming blade. The third, a giant Huscarl, brought his Great Axe down in a ferocious swing, which struck the minstrel on his unwarded right side; toppling him from his horse and cleaving the gallant troubadour from shoulder to belly in a single mighty cut!

Behind the fallen Taillefer, the charging ranks of mailed knights came over the top of the ridge, only to be brought to an abrupt halt before the stolid shieldburg! Even the best trained destrier will not collide with a solid object. And so long as the shieldwall remained steady, no Norman could force his horse through that barrier of shields!

Instead, as their charge was stopped, the Norman knights and men-at-arms hurled their lances at the Saxon masses. Or used lance or sword to stab and slash from high atop their rearing chargers at the heads and shoulders of the English warriors behind their shields.

The terrible English long-axes struck back, cleaving and hacking down man and horse. In one recorded incident ( likely repeated up and down the line of battle) a hulking Huscarl, swinging his axe from his left shoulder, hacked off a Norman horse’s head with a single blow! As the Norman’s horse collapsed where it stood, his second swing cleaved the rider in twain as well!

Man and beast could not stand such carnage for long. Beginning on the Norman left, where the riders of Brittany fought, and cascading down the whole Norman line, the cavalry began to give way. In seconds,  retreat became rout on the left as the Bretons spurred their horses in panic away from those terrible axes! The Normans in the center and Flemings on the right likewise retreated, albeit grudgingly, down the hill, toward the shelter of their reformed infantry ranks.

As sometimes happens at desperate moments, a wild rumor spread through the Norman host like a summer blaze in tall grass: “The Duke is slain! The day is lost! Save yourselves!”

At that moment of crises, the fate of England hung in the balance. In moments, the entire Norman army could be following the Bretons in panic, off the field and stampeding back toward the false security of their camp.

But fate took a different turn. William, still alive though slightly wounded in the previous skirmishing atop the hill, rode forward through his milling warriors. Pushing back helmet so his face was clearly discernible to all, he roared, “What is this madness that makes you fly?? Look at me well! I am alive, and by the grace of God I shall yet prove the victor!!” Thus, with Count Eustace of Boulogne at his side carrying the Papal banner of Holy Cross, William rallied his wavering army.

 “By the grace of God I shall yet prove the victor!” William  (1) reveals himself to his faltering men; while Odo, the fighting Bishop  of Bayeux (2), his half-brother, points to the Duke

Meanwhile, on the Norman left, the truly panicking Breton contingent had fled down the slopes and into the boggy ground beyond the left flank of the battle. Seeing their discomfort, the undisciplined English rustics of the Fyrd who fleshed out the right-wing of the Saxon line, sensed victory and went charging after them. Down the hill they ran, pursuing and in places catching the fleeing Bretons.

William spied the debacle developing on his left flank; and taking what knights he had at hand, galloped across the field and into the rear of the pursuing Fyrdmen. In an instant, pursuers were cut off from their own lines, and became fugitives!

A small hillock rose out of the boggy ground there, and the English rallied upon it and attempted a stand. But William and his knights set upon them, as did the now returning Bretons. Massacre ensued, as Harold, refusing to leave his strong position on top of Senlac, could do nothing to help his subjects who had disobeyed his order to hold the line!

Though in the balance the morning had gone well for Harold and the Saxons, it had not been without cost. In the tightly packed shieldwall, the wounded could hardly withdraw to the rear for first-aid. The king’s own two brothers, Gyrth and Leofwine, have been cut down fighting and commanding from the front ranks.  (One theory regarding this portion of the battle has one or both of Harold’s brothers leading the charge of the right-wing down the hill after the fleeing Bretons. Both are cut down during William’s counter-attack, causing the English attack to falter and ultimately fail.)

As the noon hour came and passed, both armies took a break to rest and reorganize themselves. Both sides had taken serious casualties, and horse and man needed both food and water before continuing the struggle.

William must have had some concern, for as early afternoon wore on, the English still stood firm though somewhat thinner atop Senlac. He had to dislodge them! Come nightfall, if the English army remained he must return to his camp in defeat. Morale would plummet. Supplies would run low, as foraging far from the camp would be impossible with an English army intact on Senlac. Defeat was not an option: by nightfall, he had to find a way to dislodge the Saxons from Senlac.

By mid-afternoon, the battle began again. This time, Norman foot and horse advanced up the hill in “Conroi”, individual groups fighting beneath the banners of their liege Lords. Such units gave the Normans great small unit flexibility, and allowed one group to rest while another assaulted the Saxon line.

Noticing the effect the Breton’s panicked flight had on the integrity of the shieldwall, William ordered his Conroi to alternately feign such flight as the Breton’s had displayed earlier. This tactic succeeded brilliantly all through that afternoon, as small groups of knights would suddenly wheel their horses about and gallop down the hill in mock panic. Small groups of over-excited Saxons would give chase, leaving the safety of the shieldwall and pursuing the fleeing Frenchmen down the slope. Before they reached their quarry, however, other bands of knights would wheel around their flanks and cut off their retreat. In moments the pursing English were savaged and hacked down from all sides by Norman cavalry.

Many acts of bravery and boldness are recorded during that long afternoon’s skirmishing.

At one point a Norman knight, Robert fitz Ernie, cut his way clear through to Harold’s Fighting Man standard, only to be hewed to the ground by the axes of the Huscarls about their King.  Bishop Odo, William’s half-Brother, fought throughout the day with a mace in hand: being a churchman, shedding a man’s blood with sword or lance was unacceptable; but smashing his bones with mace or club was! In another incident, a Saxon warrior ducked under the Duke’s lance-point, and dented William’s helmet with a mighty axe blow; before dodging back into the shelter of the shieldwall. The fighting was so fierce, in fact, that William is said to have had three horses killed beneath him in the course of the day!

As Norman “Conrois” charge the English shieldwall, Odo Bishop of Bayeux fights with mace in hand, in order not to “shed blood”

Despite minor tactical successes, by early evening, with the sun setting over the western forests, William’s situation was growing desperate. The English still held the hill. And though thinned out greatly, they showed no sign of breaking.

William had time for one last throw of the dice.

Reordering his ranks, he now brought up his archers again, for the first time since the morning. Ordering them to aim high, William’s archers now rained arrows down in a falling trajectory upon the now not-so-tightly packed and well-ordered shieldwall.

At this junction of the battle, disaster struck the English. Apparently looking up at the wrong moment, King Harold was struck in the eye by an arrow! Though not immediately mortal, the wound effectively took him out of the fight, as he writhed in pain in the rear of his host.

With a final flourish of trumpets, the Norman knights now charged one last time. Unable to hold the whole of the hilltop with their diminished number, the English shieldwall had contracted itself around its center; leaving the ends of the hilltop undefended. Here a wedge of Norman knights, all of whom swore an oath not to return alive if they failed to slay Harold, gained a foothold for the first time that day. On flat ground now, they spurred into the tired Fyrdmen and few remaining Huscarls gathered around the Royal standards. Too exhausted to keep them out, the horseman pushed into the shieldwall, hacking and slashing their way to where Harold stood beneath his standard.

The tapestry shows here a Norman knight reaching a figure thought to be the King, and with a downward cut hews deep into the King’s thigh. The caption above this portion of the tapestry reads “Here King Harold was Killed”. It is therefore believed that the Norman’s pushed through and slew the wounded Harold beneath the Wessex Dragon.

With the sun setting upon their fallen King, the English army now broke apart and fled back into the woods to their rear. In the gathering gloom, pursing Normans were repulsed by stubborn and vengeful Huscarls. But with the darkness come, the battle was over.

1066 a watershed year in history. The Viking Age came to a close, with the death of Harald Hardrada and the destruction of his army at Stamford Bridge. This would prove the last great attempt by a Scandinavian king to conquer the British Isles. Christianity had come to the North, and a Great-grandson of Hardrada would lead a Norwegian contingent to the Crusades. The Scandinavian kings would take their place in Europe not as pagan enemies, but as Christian colleagues.

The Battle of Senlac Hill, or Hastings as it is more popularly known, was a decisive battle of European history, and a turning point for England. Had the Saxons prevailed, England would have remained as it was and had been since Alfred the Great: a strong nation, but one outside the tides of European mainstream; more Scandinavian in outlook than continental.

By falling under Norman rule, England was pulled firmly into European affairs. Within a few generations of the Conquest, England was at the center of a vast Western European empire that controlled more of the lands of France than did that land’s king: The Plantagenet Empire of Henry II. And though French became the language of the English aristocracy for the next two centuries, the Norman lords came to think of themselves not as Frenchmen, but as Englishman.

Both the Normans and the conquered Saxons learned and benefited from each other. The Norman barons gained the Englishman’s love of liberty, personal freedom, inalienable rights, and the Scandinavian-derived concept of parliamentary governance; which in time would lead to the Magna Charta and Simon de Montfort. Unlike their cousins who remained on the continent, the French who settled in England inherited from their Saxon subjects a proud unwillingness to accept absolutism at face value, and to fight their king when necessary to protect their rights.

The Saxons would gain the vitality and boldness of the Normans, and no longer be the insular, inward looking people they once were. The melding of the two races created an English race that would one day create the British Empire, the greatest empire since Rome; and the United States of America, the greatest forces for good the world has ever known.

“We saw it…. the hussars let loose their horses.  God, what power! They ran through the smoke and the sound was like that of a thousand blacksmiths beating with a thousand hammers. We saw it…Jezus Maria! The elite’s lances bent forward like stalks of rye, driven by a great storm, bent on glory! The fire of the guns before them glitters! They rush on to the Swedes! They crash into the Swedish reiters (cavalry)…. Overwhelming them! They crash into the second regiment – Overwhelmed! Resistance collapses, dissolves, they move forward as easily as if they were parading on a grand boulevard. They sliced without effort through the whole army…”        from Potop (“The Deluge”), by Henry Sienkievich

This breathless account of a 17th century battle captures well the furious  charge of the famed  Polish “Winged Hussars”.  For roughly a century (1576-1683) they were the premiere cavalry in Europe (if not the world). In battle-after-battle, their crushing charge dealt the coup-de-grace to every enemy they faced. While suffering the occasional (even crushing) defeat, their century-long record of success is unsurpassed in the annals of cavalry warfare.

The Husaria towarzysz (“comrades”) were armored horsemen, their primary weapon the very long (and light) kopia. This differed from the standard lance of the Medieval knights in that it was hollow, thus allowing greater length without commensurate weight. Many have opined as to the reason for the great length of the 18-21 foot kopia was to give the lancer greater reach in order to defeat infantry pike formations. But such action is only apparent in one battle of the many the Husaria engaged in; and accounts differ as to wither or not the enemy square was broken by flank or frontal attack.

As backup weapon, the Hussar carried a variety of weapons: sabre, long sword, mace and even war-hammer! Pistols, musketoons, and even composite bows could be carried as well.

The most famous piece of a Hussar’s equipment was his wings.

These varied over the heyday of the Husaria, from mere wings painted on or hanging from the Hussars shield; to two large  ”skoklosters”, hooped wooden frames onto which eagle feathers were attached. These latter were mounted on the Hussars back, or the back of his saddle.

The purpose of the wings in controversial. Some writers noted that they made a frightening noise when the Hussar was at a gallop. Others that the wings fluttering had the effect of frightening enemy horses unaccustomed to the sight, causing enemy cavalry charges against a formation of Hussars to falter. It has also been suggested that the wing-frames may have acted to deflect Tartar lasso or enemy sabre cuts.

All that we know for sure is that they lent the Hussars a unique and spectacular appearance.

Though for a time the strongest state in Eastern Europe, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was beset by a plethora of  enemies. Though its Hussars could tip the scales and win battles, these were a relatively small, elite force; never exceeding 3,000 armored lancers. Despite such battlefield successes as they enjoyed, the far-flung kingdom was beset on all sides by aggressive neighbors. Ultimately Poland was for time overrun and on the verge of collapse (the “Deluge”, 1648-1667).

But Poland reemerged, and in 1683 under its heroic king, Jan Sobieski, the Hussars  enjoyed their most celebrated success; riding forth to save Europe one last time from the tide of Islam!

Since its imergence in the early 7th century, Islam had been battering at the gates of “Christendom”. The early surge of Muslim invasion overran much of the Christian Eastern Roman (“Byzantine”) Empire, taking Syria, Egypt, and North Africa. Crossing into Spain, the Muslim Moors destroyed the Visigoth Kingdom, establishing first an Emirate and later a break-away Caliphate, centered on Cordoba.

This first onrush of the Muslim tide was stopped in the east at the Anatolian mountains by successive Byzantine soldier-Emperors. In the west, Muslim conquest was stopped by the Frankish hero, Charles Martel (“the Hammer”), deep in France at the Battle of Tours (732 AD).

After fighting off Christian Europe’s attempt to regain the lost territories of Syria and Palestine (the “Holy Land”) during the period known as the “Crusades”; Islam was once again on the march into Europe. From the 14th century onward, under the Ottoman Sultans of Turkey, the borders of Islam had advanced steadily into Eastern Europe.

An outgrowth of a militant “Ghazi” state on the frontiers of the fading Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman state was the dominant Muslim power in the world from the 15th century onward. Its Sultans, adopting for themselves the titles of “Defender of the Faithful” and “Sword of Islam”; saw their mission as one of pushing the militant frontiers of Islam deep into the Christian lands of Europe.

In 1453, the Turks captured Constantinople, the decaying capital of ancient Byzantine. In the following decades, the Turks battled their way into Serbia, Wallachia, and Bosnia. In 1526 the Turks conquered the Kingdom of Hungry, following the (for the Christians) disastrous  Battle of Mohács.

In 1529,  the Ottoman Sultan  Suleiman “the Magnificent” marched into the heart of Europe; attempting to capture the city of Vienna, capital of the Hapsburg-led Holy Roman Empire. This first Siege of Vienna ended in failure for the Turks; temporarily halting their advance.

The central Balkans became the frontier between Christian and Muslim for the next century-and-a-half; in a desultory war of raid and counter raid. Then, in 1683, the Turks were back, again laying siege to the Hapsburg capital, Vienna.

Europe may have looked ripe for conquest to the Sultans and their viziers in Constantinople (later Istanbul). The Protestant Reformation had given rise to the Wars of Religion in France; and  the  devastating 30 Years War in Germany (which killed an estimated 25%-40% of the population).  Though the Peace of Westphalia had brought active hostilities to a close, the Protestant and Catholic states were still deeply divided.

Europe was not only divided along religious lines, but along national lines as well. Poland was not the only nation beset by troublesome neighbors. The Hapsburg rulers of Austria were under pressure from the expansionist policies of the French “Sun King“, Louis XIV; who was pushing the borders of France into Alsace-Lorraine and the Rhineland. This threat to their German possessions had Hapsburg Austria fixated on their western borders.

Against this backdrop, the Turks prepared for a renewed thrust into central Europe. Carefull preparation over many years, building up supply depots, repairing roads, and the massing of troops came to fruition  in 1683. A massive Turkish army (estimated by various sources as between 150,000 and 300,000 strong), led by the Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa, marched north from Adrianople on April 2, 1683. Their goal: the conquest of Vienna!

By mid-July, the Turks were before the city. The second siege of Vienna began.

From July 14, when the Turks began bombarding the city with 300 guns, till mid-September the siege went on. Though the garrison was small (only some 2,000 troops, augmented by civilian militia) and the defenses incomplete; the city held out desperately. Much of the battle was conducted underground, where Turkish miners, tunneling under the defenses and attempting to plant explosives, were met by Austrian counter-mines. Fierce battles took place above and below ground; with the defenders slowly losing ground.

The Turks swarm forward into a breach in the defensives, while Austrian defenders stand firmly against them!

By September, the city was in desperate straits, and its fall was imminent. The century-and-a-half long goal of the Ottoman Sultans, to seize Vienna and use it as a spring-board for Muslim expansion into the heart of Europe, seemed within their grasp.

Fortunately for Vienna and Christian Europe, the Muslim tide was about to break upon a rock; a Polish rock!

In early September, a relief force was coming to the city’s aid. This coalition force consisted of 47,000 troops from Austrian and Holy Roman Empire (Germans) led by Charles Duke of Lorraine; and a Polish army some 37,000 strong, led by King Jan Sobieski. The cream of this force was the Husaria, 3,000 strong.

On September 1o, the coalition army formed made its way through the Wienerwald, the series of forested hills ringing Vienna to the south and west. Their destination was the Kahlenberg ridge overlooking the Vienna plain, where lay the Turkish camp. It was incredibly rough going; the terrain cut by ravines and valleys, vineyards and stone walls. slowly the allied contingents pushed through. Fortunately for the allies and for the city, the Turks did little to oppose their advance; as Kara Mustafa concentrated on capturing the city before the relief force could arrive. This failure to oppose the allies in the difficult terrain of the Wienerwald was to prove a fatal error.

On the morning of September 12, the allies had obtained their goal; and were poised to attack onto the plain. Still, there were villages, hills, and orchards between them and their target, the Turkish army. It would take most of the day to push through into the relatively flat plains where the Polish cavalry could charge with effect.

Kara Mustafa could no longer ignore the coming relief force. Leaving troops to continue the assault on the city, he deployed the bulk of his army in line facing the allies advancing from the Kahlenberg ridge.

All day long the allied infantry, supported by artillery hauled at great pains through the forested Wienerwald, slogged forward through the broken terrain.  Lorraine and his sub-commanders found themselves fighting countless minor skirmishes over every farmhouse and vineyard, as the allied forces inched forward.

On the allied right, Sobieski and the Polish forces were the last to arrive in position, having the furthest to travel and very tough terrain to traverse. Finally, at 1 PM the Poles were in position atop the Kahlenberg. The advance was led by infantry as they pushed through broken terrain, clearing away Turkish skirmishers and brushing off periodic attacks. At 2 PM, the Polish Royal Army came in-line with the rest of the struggling allies. A great cheer rose from the Imperial troops, greeting the Poles’ arrival.

By 4PM the Polish advance had reached the flat ground necessary for a successful charge. Now the Hussars moved to the front, through the intervals in the infantry line. Their feathered wings and bright lance pennants fluttering in the breeze, they were by all accounts a splendid and impressive sight.

First a few companies were detailed to probe the enemy’s center, where they succeeded in disordering the Turkish first line. As the Poles withdrew, the Ottoman commander on the Turkish left must have thought the Poles were now vulnerable to counter-attack; and ordered the Ottoman cavalry on that wing to attack Sobieski’s horsemen.

Clearing a last line of vineyards, the Hussars now began a charge in mass. With the cry of “Jezus Maria ratuj“, the password of the day on their lips, and their king at their head, the Poles advanced at a canter. The Imperial infantry to their left paused in their own attack to take in the awe-inspiring sight. At 50 paces, with the order “Zlozcie kopie” (“lower lances!”) the Hussars broke into full gallop, lances lowering like “stalks of rye in the wind”. Into the oncoming Turkish cavalry, Sipahis and akinci, they tore!

A witness to the charge wrote:

“No sooner does a Hussar lower his lance than a Turk is impaled on its spike; disordering and terrifying the foe. That blow cannot be avoided or deflected…Oft transfixing two persons at a time. Others flee in eager haste… Like flies in a frenzy!”

Scattering the Turkish outriders, Sobieski now ordered the Hussars to charge home against the center of the Turkish camp. With an audible crash and shattering of lances they smashed home into the Janissaries. The Turkish line recoiled, and after receiving still another charge from the far-right squadrons of Polish horse crumbled. Soon the entire Turkish line was fleeing headlong in a disorderly mob from the pursuing Hussars.

The siege was over, and Vienna was saved. The Turkish drive into central Europe ended in defeat; and in the coming years the Imperial forces, led by the brilliant Prince Eugene of Savoy would drive the Turks out of Hungary entirely.

But the laurels that autumn day in 1683 belonged to Jan Sobieski and the Polish “Winged Hussars” he led. This was their last hurrah, a glorious final charge  that helped to save the West from Muslim domination. But advances in fire-arms and artillery, as well as the expense of maintaining them would soon make the Hussars obsolete.

As writers of the day noted, the Hussar was a specialist, good for only one thing: to charge spectacularly in battle and break the enemy. They were no good at the sundry other common-place duties necessary for cavalry on campaign. Their place would be taken by cheaper, more versatile dragoons and light cavalry. But as one military observer of the day noted:

“Like the heavy artillery, most of the time they are but a burden on the baggage train.” But like the heavy artillery, when used for which they are designed, nothing is better! “Good for only one day of battle? Yes, but what a day of decision!”

_________________________________________________________

For a more hyperbolic view of  the Winged Hussars, go to Badass of the Week’s take:

“…it’s time that the Polish cavalry – and particularly the Winged Hussars – get appropriately recognized as one of the most eye-skeweringly hardcore
associations of asskickers ever assembled.  These daring, brave,
unabashedly-feathered badasses crushed throats up and down Europe for two centuries, annihilating battle-tested armies three times their size with nothing more than a huge-ass lance, an awesome set of ultra-cool wings, and a gym bag full of iron-plated armor ballsacks.”

]]> http://deadliestblogpage.wordpress.com/2012/09/21/the-last-hurrah-of-the-winged-hussars/feed/ 6 barrycjacobsen husaria hussar2 Husarer ottomanboss OspVienna26Feb08_005 1 Vienna 1683 hussars3 hussar13 PolishWingedHussarsVien1683 lg_wingedhussars