Louis: The French Prince Who Invaded England (27 page)

Hearing of the preparations at Calais, William Marshal had travelled to Romney, where he summoned representatives from the Cinque Ports and promised them restoration of the rights they had lost under King John, and recompense by way of any plunder they could take from captured ships, if they would go out to fight the arriving French. They agreed and mustered a fleet at Sandwich, the extra three days giving them crucial time to prepare, as the
History of William Marshal
describes: ‘They attended to the preparation of their ships, made ready their ropes, made seaworthy every one of their bowlines, guide-ropes and guys, their sturdy anchors and strong cables.’ The men of the Cinque Ports joined forces with the ships of Philip d’Albini, who was still patrolling the Channel. Marshal himself would not go out to sea; on a practical level his age and the lack of opportunity to fight on horseback would count against him, but he was also Henry’s personal representative, and as such he needed to stay on dry land to organise matters from there, and form an extra line of defence if the French were able to land in numbers. Thus, when the English fleet sailed out from Sandwich on the morning of 24 August, St Bartholomew’s Day, it was under the command of Hubert de Burgh.

Hubert sailed on the best vessel available from the Cinque Ports, together with eighteen large ships which Matthew Paris tells us were ‘well fitted out’, some of them designed especially for fighting with iron prows for ramming enemy ships, and a number of smaller boats. He had with him a number of knights, including Richard Fitzroy, illegitimate son of King John and nephew to the earl Warenne; Warenne himself was not of the seagoing party but the
History of the Dukes
tells us that he had furnished his nephew with a ‘fine troop’ and ‘a ship with knights and men-at-arms where his banners were’. One of the English ships was a huge cog, a larger type of vessel of which several had been built during the reign of King John when he was keen to expand his navy. Lightly laden so it stood high out of the water, and with large ‘castles’ fore and aft, it would have the advantage of height. The cog was packed with sergeants, possibly those supplied by the regent.

Leading the French fleet was Eustace the Monk. His ship was at the front but, as the
History of William Marshal
tells us, it contained not only Robert de Courtenay and other leaders but also a trebuchet, treasure, coin and horses for Louis’s use, and a contingent of fighting men. This meant that it was so overloaded that it ‘could only sit so deep down in the waves that the water almost washed over it’, and was therefore not easy to handle in the conditions. In addition to his own vessel, Eustace had nine other great ships, each packed with up to 125 knights and sergeants, and some sixty smaller boats carrying supplies. Their objective, on reaching the English coast, was to make for London, where Louis was waiting for them. Once he had reinforced his host there, in his well-defended main stronghold, he would be in prime position to move out in great strength to reconquer the land anew.

The English knew that London would be the target, so their own objective was simply to prevent the French reaching the capital. They sought to position their ships to windward, sailing in a column with Hubert de Burgh’s at the front. Due to the formation, the French did not immediately see the whole fleet, and they thought they were being faced by only a few vessels, as William the Breton explains: ‘While they were on the high sea they saw a few ships coming slowly from England, whereupon Robert de Courtenay caused the ship which he was in to be directed towards them, thinking it would be easier to capture them.’ The result was disaster. Hubert’s ship, sailing out in front, had already passed by – possibly as part of a feinting manoeuvre – but Eustace’s ship struck the second in line, that commanded by Richard Fitzroy. Fierce fighting broke out; Eustace’s men initially held their own, but then three more English ships from the column came up one by one and surrounded the vessel. The other French ships, possibly confused by the turn of events, or possibly finding it difficult to manoeuvre into an effective position to attack the English ships, hesitated. By this time the large English cog had also arrived, and with their height advantage the men on it were able to throw stones and shoot arrows down on the French. They also had a nastier form of missile, as all sources mention and as the
Romance of Eustace the Monk
describes: ‘They began to throw finely ground lime in great pots upon the deck, so that a great cloud arose. Then the French could no longer defend themselves for their eyes were full of powder; and since they were before the wind it caused them torment.’

The wind blew the lime away from the English and into the faces of the French; the English were then able to take advantage of their blinded, choking opponents, jumping down onto the French flagship and cutting their way through the knights and men. ‘Some had their arms broken,’ says the
Romance of Eustace
, ‘some their heads smashed, others a collarbone shattered.’ Eustace, after an initial flurry in which he knocked down many opponents with an oar, fled below; he was eventually found and dragged out, and, despite offering a huge sum of money for ransom, was offered a stark choice: would he prefer to be beheaded on the trebuchet or on the rail of the ship? None of our chroniclers records his answer, but decapitated he certainly was.

The death of their admiral and capture of their flagship caused a loss of heart among the rest of the French fleet. They were rammed by the iron-prowed English ships; their rigging was cut so that their sails fell down on the crews; the unmanoeuvrable ships were then boarded and vicious close fighting took place with swords, daggers and axes. Philip d’Albini’s archers and crossbowmen were particularly effective, raining their sharp arrows and bolts down on to the lower decks of the French ships. When the English boarded each ship ‘they lost no time at all in killing those they found on board and throwing them into the sea as food for the fish’, says the
History of William Marshal
; the water turned scarlet with blood.

The French loss was almost total: knights were captured, sergeants and sailors slaughtered where they stood; many chose to cast themselves into the sea, where they drowned. Robert de Courtenay and his three most senior magnates were among those taken prisoner; they were in danger of being killed by the now blood-crazed English common soldiers, who were stopped with some difficulty by their knightly superiors who saw the chance for monetary gain. And as a final insult Hubert de Burgh’s ship, which had overshot the first phase of the conflict, had by now managed to turn around; he thus attacked from the rear of the French fleet, sailing serenely into the carnage and making himself a tidy profit by claiming capture of two ships. The haul of booty was enormous: the English shared out coins in bowlfuls while the French prisoners were taken back to land. Eustace the Monk’s severed head was fixed on a lance and was subsequently taken to Canterbury and paraded in public there and in the country round about, amid the cheers of the coastal dwellers who had suffered from his raids for years. ‘No one who is always intent on evil’, concludes the
Romance of Eustace
, ominously, ‘can live for a long time.’

The reinforcements were gone; the supplies were gone; the money, hard-won from Philip Augustus, was gone. None of it would reach Louis, and all Blanche’s efforts had been for nothing.

* * *

Louis, in London, heard of the defeat on 26 August 1217; we may imagine him with his fists clenched as he took in the devastating news. ‘He was enraged,’ says the
History of the Dukes
, ‘as he had a right to be.’ Louis now found himself in the slightly odd position of not having been personally defeated in the field, but having been vanquished nonetheless by the incompetence of his subordinates. Roger of Wendover tells us that he was more concerned about the defeat at Sandwich than he had been by the events of Lincoln, and he was right: with no hope now of further reinforcements, to fight on from his present position would be suicidal. Louis had no choice but to agree terms.

Robert de Dreux was sent under safe conduct from London to Rochester to meet William Marshal. Despite the customs governing embassies such as this, which promised ambassadors safety of their persons, Marshal took him hostage; as Louis’s cousin, he was the second-ranked nobleman among the French and therefore a prize, and Marshal was well known for his acquisitive tendencies – he had already secured himself, for example, half of the late count of Perche’s lands in England following the latter’s death at Lincoln only three months previously. While keeping Robert de Dreux captive he sent Robert de Courtenay, lately captured in the battle at Sandwich, to Louis instead. We have no contemporary information on Louis’s reaction upon hearing the news of Robert de Dreux’s imprisonment, but he did agree to de Courtenay’s mediation as he arranged talks between Louis, Marshal and Hubert de Burgh.

It would appear that those in the Henrician party were still a little afraid of Louis in person. Louis’s own military reputation was still intact, and he would of course be king of France in due course, with all the power and the resources that entailed. The negotiations did not have the character of a victorious party dictating to a defeated one, but rather were couched in the language of truce and peace. On 5 September 1217, his thirtieth birthday, Louis met William Marshal in person – the first time they had come face to face – on an island in the Thames; they were accompanied by Robert de Courtenay and Hubert de Burgh respectively. The negotiation of terms began, and the talks lasted for several days before Louis retired to London, and the regent to Windsor, to consider their positions.

Louis’s remaining French and baronial supporters in London pushed for a radical solution: they should make a vast and sudden sortie from the capital with all of their men in order to provoke a final battle. If Marshal, de Burgh, the earl of Chester or even little Henry himself could be killed or captured then the fortunes of the two sides would be markedly reversed. As the days passed and Louis received no word from the regent, the suggestion came to hold more merit, but it would be hugely risky. ‘He did not know which way to turn,’ says Ralph of Coggeshall, who describes the episode.

Would Louis have risked everything in one final, bloody chivalric endeavour? We will never know. On 9 September a letter arrived from William Marshal asking for a further truce and for the resumption of peace talks; Louis agreed.

On 11 or 12 September 1217 Louis and William Marshal met once more – this time also with Guala, who was not about to be left out of such a momentous occasion – to agree the Treaty of Lambeth, which ratified the peace agreement. Guala, in a spiteful gesture, tried to insist that Louis appear as a penitent, barefoot and shirtless; he was roundly ignored by both sides. William the Breton, Roger of Wendover, the
History of William Marshal
and the
History of the Dukes
, with varying degrees of detail, all agree on the salient points of the treaty. In short, Louis would be paid the sum of 10,000 marks of silver (amounting to about one-quarter of the English crown’s annual income); in return he would agree to leave England and to make no further claim upon it, and would release from their oaths all those who had sworn fealty to him. King Alexander of Scotland and Prince Llewelyn in Wales were to make peace on similar terms. The four clerics whose exclusion from previous conditions had caused Louis to refuse agreement were to leave the country in peace and travel to Rome to seek absolution from the pope in person. Both sides were to release all prisoners without further ransom (including Robert de Dreux, presumably to Marshal’s chagrin), although ransoms already paid could be kept; those barons who had supported Louis were to be restored to the lands they had held before the war.

These terms were clearly not what Louis had set his heart on when he had sailed to England sixteen months previously; but neither were they the desperate terms of a defeated party seeking only to escape with his life. He had not succeeded in being crowned king, but he had not been personally defeated and could leave with his head held high and in possession of a heavy purse: 4,000 marks in cash and the promise of further payments by instalment. He was also granted absolution from the sentence of excommunication which had weighed heavily on him for so many months. The treaty was sealed on 18 September 1217, Louis’s witnesses and guarantors including Hervé de Donzy, count of Nevers, Peter de Dreux, duke of Brittany, and Robert de Courtenay; Louis embarked from the coast ten days later.

Unsuccessful in his quest for the English crown but unbeaten and unbowed, Louis stepped on to his ship and sailed away. His adventure in England had lasted seventeen months; during that time he had succeeded in conquering about two-thirds of the realm and, as we will discuss later, could have gone further had he been in possession of greater resources. As it was, his feat remained unmatched for almost 270 years: the next successful invasion of England would be that of Henry Tudor in 1485.

Louis was never again to set foot in England, but his conflict with the English crown was far from over.

CHAPTER EIGHT