455 – Odo’s Rebellion: Lord of the Flies

Welcome to the British History Podcast.

My name is Jamie, and this is episode 455: Odo's Rebellion, Lord of the Flies.

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Word of Rufus' army and the destruction of the forces at Tunbridge had no doubt reached Pevensey and its commander, Robert of Mortain.

And I think it's likely that the messengers also reported that the king's army had turned north towards Rochester, which was Bishop Odo's stronghold.

So it must have been quite a shock for Robert of Mortain when Bishop Odo appeared outside the walls of Pevency.

I mean, shouldn't he be back at Rochester holding off their spoiled nephew and his stupid army?

What was he doing here, a full 50 miles to the south?

And once he was inside the walls, Odo filled him in on the plan.

It turned out that Rochester had much more than peasants and townsfolk.

When Duke Robert of Normandy had sent reinforcements earlier, Odo had positioned them at Rochester and placed them under the command of Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bolem.

And as of right now, their orders were to hold the city and keep Rufus tied up, likely because Odo was anticipating that Duke Robert would soon arrive in England, and that his chosen landing point was Pevency.

After all, that would explain why Odo had traveled south with only a few companions.

He didn't want Rufus to know that he'd already left Rochester because Odo wanted the king to put all of his efforts into bringing down the city, thinking that Odo was still inside.

Meanwhile, Odo and Mortain would be in the south, preparing to join up with Duke Robert's invading army.

And so the chronicle tells us that Odo convinced his brother to hold out and stay strong.

They just needed to hold on and wait for the arrival of Duke Robert.

And once he got there, everything would go their way.

And it appears that this had been the plan from the start.

I mean, they were never going to seize the kingdom on their own, not with the numbers that they had brought across the channel.

The sparks of rebellion that we've been seeing were merely the advanced force that was preparing the way for Robert's ducal army.

A ducal army that really should be here at any moment.

And sure enough, Simeon of Durham and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle both confirm that Duke Robert was assembling a massive army in Normandy and preparing to take it across the channel.

It was a good plan, but unfortunately for Odo, it was already unraveling.

You see, Rufus wasn't settling into a long siege at Rochester.

He was on the move.

Someone had blabbed about Odo's flight.

And so the king and his big-ass army were marching south directly for Pevensey.

In fact, they were forced marching.

And to put it in technical terms, Rufus and his army were hauling ass.

And this wasn't the only problem that the rebels were facing.

Things across the channel weren't going so well for Robert's fan club either.

Well, actually, that's not entirely correct.

The problems weren't across the channel.

The problems were in the channel.

By gaining support of the English and presumably the sink ports, Rufus had mobilized a large naval force, and he was using it to dominate cross-channel traffic.

Now the scribes give us precious few details on naval strategy, and I assume that's because sailors and monks don't interact all that much.

I mean, monks were generally banned from pursuing the kinds of things that sailors tended to like to do once they were ashore.

You know, except for the drinking.

Monks totally drank.

They kind of had their own bars.

But the point is, they didn't interact that much, and so we know next to nothing of the swashbuckling bravado that was playing out on the waves.

But even from our scant reports from people like Simeon of Durham, it does seem that Duke Robert was sending additional reinforcements as he was preparing his main force, but King Rufus, quote, guarded the sea by his marine force, who slew and drowned in the sea so many of those who were coming to England that no man knew the number of those who perished, end quote.

It was a bloodbath.

And eventually, Duke Robert would have noticed that his transport ships kept going missing.

And he would have heard horror stories coming out out of the few that managed to return, all soggy and exhausted.

The fact was, the English were dominating the Normans before they even reached the shore.

Which makes sense.

Chivalric warfare involved horses and siege engines, not ships.

This is why Robert was forced to hire pirates just to help him build a fleet in the first place.

And so as this was going on, it was becoming increasingly clear that Operation Seahorse 2 Electric Boogaloo was less of a march to victory and more of a suicide pact.

And Odo,

well,

Odo wasn't aware of any of this.

And so he and Mortain

were just patiently waiting for the promised relieving force to land at Pevensey.

And their hearts must have sank when they saw an army appear on the horizon.

Because it was on the wrong horizon.

This wasn't a fleet of Robert ships.

This This was Rufus and his army of Englishmen.

What on earth were they doing here?

Rufus was supposed to be locked in a drawn-out siege about 50 miles north.

Pevensey was up to its neck at this point in unexpected guests.

But there was nothing to be done for it now.

They had no choice but to prepare for a siege.

And at least they had Pevensey Castle, which was a formidable defensive position.

So they barred the gates and reinforced their defenses.

Because really, they only had one move.

Hold this position until Duke Robert's force arrives.

As for Rufus, well, Worcester tells us that he didn't waste any time, and he immediately established siege lines and began constructing siege engines.

We're told that the king was convinced that if he could capture his uncles and cut the head off this snake, then he'd be able to put a stop to this rebellion before it got any more out of control.

So no matter how long it took or how difficult the fighting was, Rufus wasn't leaving without his uncles, dead or alive.

And until that moment came, well, they could just sit in Pevensey and think about what they've done.

In an instant, the rebellion, which had so much success early on due to its sheer audacity and speed of action, was now struggling to maintain momentum in the face of renewed opposition.

And this wasn't just a problem in Kent and Sussex.

Do you remember that combined army of Englishmen, Normans, and Welshmen who'd attacked Worcester?

And how, in the face of that army, the bishop had locked himself in the castle and was refusing to come out?

Well, he was still there.

And from behind stout walls, the bishop issued an excommunication against the rebel army.

But I guess the threat of fire and brimstone wasn't enough to sway the army.

And so they still sat outside those walls, trying to get in.

And that was really starting to get on the nerves of Worcester's garrison, because they were ready to fight back.

The trouble, though, was that Bishop Wolfstan wasn't a fighter.

Wolfie was a pacifist, or at least someone who wasn't thrilled with violence happening anywhere near him.

And conversely, his garrison was full of Norman knights and and Norman soldiers and other assorted folks who really had no problem with violence, near or far.

And as they grew restless, the bishop urged them to seek the aid of God, reminding them that God, quote, fighteth not with sword and spear, end quote.

Which is true.

Jesus didn't fight with a sword or a spear.

But the garrison probably wasn't all that thrilled with the prospect of their story ending the same way that his did.

So they told the bishop that the best thing that he could do for them is to stay safe, because his safety just worried them greatly.

So it would be a huge relief if they knew that he was far from danger.

Like, you know, really far in the back, like way in the depths of the castle, like super back there, away from any defenses, and God forbid, any front lines.

And Bishop Wolfstan agreed and retreated to a quiet place deep in the castle and began to pray for divine intervention.

And while he was thus occupied, the garrison adopted a different approach.

War.

God helps those who help themselves, and God knows that King Rufus wasn't going to help them either.

So it was time to start clearing this city of some rebels.

Now, apparently, the rebel army had been pushed back to the other side of the river at some point during the conflict, and in the process, the bridge across the Severn had been damaged.

Now, unfortunately, John of Worcester, who gives us our most detailed account of this conflict, doesn't tell us how or when the bridge was destroyed, nor does he tell us how the two forces ended up getting separated by the Severn.

However, It does seem that by the time that the bishop started keeping his pious opposition to himself, the rebel army was across the river, and that bridge was in desperate need of repair.

So, with Bishop Wolfstan removed, the garrison and the townsfolk of Worcester, at least those who were on the castle side of the river, set about repairing the bridge.

Now again, John doesn't tell us exactly how this happened, but I guess it would involve some sort of cover from archers and Worcester Castle, which sat close to the banks of the river, you know, to push the rebel army back a bit.

But however it was done, the bridge was repaired.

And according to Simeon of Durham and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, once the bridge was sturdy enough to support a crossing, the garrison, as well as the people of Worcester on their side of the river, who were willing and able to fight, suited up and crossed the river, hoping to do a spot of vengeance.

We're not told the specifics of the battle that followed, but we do have records that claim that when the garrison attacked, the rebels had dispersed into raiding bands.

And that would have made it really difficult for them to form an organized defense in response, and the garrison would have been able to pick them off.

Either way, though, the Chronicle and Simeon of Durham both agree that however the garrison struck, they were as efficient as they were ferocious, and they killed about 500 rebels and forced the remainder of the army into a rout.

The siege of Worcester by the combined army of Normans, Englishmen, and Welshmen had been broken.

Now, for the sake of clarity, John of Worcester does provide a few extra details on this battle, but I didn't include them in the main narrative because I find them highly unlikely.

I actually suspect that they're additions specifically intended to appeal to a religious audience.

So, what I'm about to share with you now can only be found in the account from John.

No other account mentions these details, and some of them even contradict them in places.

For John, this was a battle between good and evil.

For him, the bishop and God had won the day.

Quite literally, it was them who did it.

John tells us that after the garrison repaired the bridge, they asked the bishop for permission to attack.

And somehow, this request also took place prior to his retreat into the depths of the castle, which suggests that they somehow managed to repair the bridge faster than it took the bishop to walk down a hallway.

But superhuman bridge building skills aside, Bishop Wolfstan agreed and said they could attack the rebels.

And he blessed the army, saying that, quote, I promise you that no sword shall hurt you this day, no disaster, no enemy, end quote.

Armed with this blessing, the garrison crossed the newly repaired bridge.

And once across, they discovered that the rebels had been burning and pillaging Worcester, which shocked them.

Because apparently, all of the smoke and the fact that they were in clear view of the castle wasn't enough to clue them in until this moment.

Only once they crossed the bridge, which was probably only about 50 meters long, did they discover what was going on.

So, according to John, medieval myopia must have been really intense.

But anyway, he goes on.

It appears that someone must have run back to the bishop and said something along the lines of, Father, did you know the rebels have been looting and burning burning buildings?

Because John tells us that in response to this sudden discovery, the bishop cursed the rebel army on the spot.

And suddenly, back across that gargantuan 50-meter crossing, the rebel army, which was advancing on the garrison, were struck by a miracle.

Well, it was a miracle for the garrison.

For the rebels, it was something else.

John tells us that this divine curse word showed, quote, the power of God and the worthiness of the man, end quote, meaning Bishop Wolfstan.

All of the rebels, quote, were instantly struck with such feebleness in their limbs and loss of eyesight that they were scarcely able to carry their arms or recognize their comrades or discern who were advancing to attack them.

While they in their blindness were at a loss what to do, confidence in God and the bishop's blessing encouraged our party.

They had so lost their wits that that they neither had the sense to effect a retreat nor sought any means of defense, but, by God's judgment giving up to the fate of the reprobate, they easily fell into the hands of their enemies.

The foot soldiers were put to the sword, the knights and their mounted followers, English, Norman, and Welsh, were taken prisoner, the rest barely managing in their feeble state to make their escape.

The king's liegemen and the bishop's retainers returned home in triumph, without the loss of a single man, thanking God for the preservation of the property of the church and the bishop for his salutary counsels.

End quote.

Now, if this really happened, Bishop Wolfstan was definitely praying to the father and not to the hippie son, because holy moly, that was an Old Testament style beatdown.

And I should also add that no one else says the garrison suffered no casualties.

Like with the miracles, this was only John.

But whether it was God laying down some plagues of Egypt level smiting, or whether it was a garrison convincing their squeamish bishop to take a break so they could finally sally forth and crack some skulls, everyone agrees that in the space of a single day, a key rebel army had been lost, and the siege of Worcester had been relieved.

It was good news for Bishop Wolfstan, and terrible, no good, very bad news for Bishop Odo.

Even worse, remember that army led by Bishop Geoffrey of Coutons and Earl Robert de Mowbray?

The army that butchered their way through the countryside and through Bath and got so into it they decided to besiege Ilchester?

Well, it became clear to the garrison at Ilchester that the king wasn't coming to relieve them.

And so they sallied forth and they broke Jeffrey and de Mowbray's rebel army.

And apparently, this spanking was sound enough that Robert de Mowbray decided to just straight up quit and started brooding about it so hard that the scribes actually wrote about his whinging.

So, now that's two of Robert's rebel armies taken off the board.

And back in Pevensey, with the siege lines dug in,

there was little that Odo and Mortain could do about it.

They were locked in until their nephew, Duke Robert, arrived with his relieving force.

But as days turned to weeks and the siege stretched on, they must have started to suspect that Robert was standing them up.

That realization would have gotten more grim when Rufus' ships appeared on the horizon, forming into a naval blockade around Pevency Bay.

All maritime travel in the region ground to a halt.

I don't know if Mortain and Odo had received word of the bloodbath that Robert was experiencing on the channel, but I'm pretty sure they could have guessed.

I mean, if Rufus had enough ships to blockade Pevensey, then he must not be all that concerned about Robert's crossing.

And clearly, whatever had happened out there had given Rufus a lot of confidence that he could control the channel.

And so Odo and Mortain were now trapped by both land and sea.

And meanwhile, Rufus and his army were able to just kind of lounge on the siege lines, you know, when they weren't constructing siege engines.

But here's the thing about castles.

They are remarkably resistant to assaults, and even siege engines.

That's why the Normans spent so much time building the damn things.

And it's why their wars involved so much time sitting outside of them, or, you know, sitting inside them, depending on the situation.

And so despite the siege engines, weeks passed and the the king was still stuck outside the walls with his army, and Odo was still stuck inside the walls with his.

It was a stalemate.

Kind of.

You see, while bringing down the walls of a castle is pretty difficult, there is another method of bringing down a castle that's very effective.

It just takes time.

Famine.

If you can prevent the defenders inside the castle from getting any supplies, and if you can keep them stuck inside and keep everyone else locked out, eventually food stocks will get depleted, and then famine will bring down the defenses for you.

And this was exactly what Rufus had planned.

It's why he had siege lines on land and a naval blockade at sea.

Eventually, Odo and his men would run out of ham sandwiches.

And even if they had their cavalry in there, you really can only eat so many horses.

It was just a matter of time.

Now, as a seasoned knight, Rufus would have known that time could vary widely on these things, depending on how well stocked the castle was in anticipation of a siege.

But,

well, it seems like Odo and Mortain hadn't anticipated this siege at all, because they started going hungry pretty quickly, at least as far as medieval sieges go.

And so Rufus and his men were well supplied outside the walls and continued to feast, while the men inside the walls had their stomachs go from growling to sour

to silent.

At the beginning, Odo and Mortain were under the belief that Duke Robert would arrive any day.

And so, if they rationed their supplies at the beginning of the siege, I'm guessing they didn't do it all that harshly.

But then, as days turned into weeks, they likely realized that they had been a bit too free with their diets.

And so what little food they had left needed to be rationed far more strictly.

And if I was Rufus, this is about the point where I'd start treating my men to whole roast pigs and setting up the cooks with large fans so they could waft the smoke over Pevency's walls.

I might also shout something like, hey Uncle Odo, you hungry?

We've got more bacon here than we could possibly eat, so why don't you come on out and join us?

No?

Well, I guess we'll feed it to the dogs then.

Now, I'm not sure if that sort of trolling actually took place during sieges, but I guarantee if siege warfare happened today, we'd be taking Instagram photos with our thumbs up in front of every meal and then DMing it to everyone inside.

Hashtag foodporn.

But trolling or no, the defenders continued to hold out.

But eventually, their food ran out completely.

And by this point, chances are their bodies had already digested most of their stored fat.

So now, in an effort to simply survive, their bodies would begin to digest muscle and even bones and organs.

The men were tired, they were weakened, they were susceptible to illness.

They'd also have a hard time concentrating, and many of them would be irritable as all hell.

It would have been getting bad inside there.

And Simeon tells us that after only six weeks of the siege, the starving defenders, gripped by famine, were forced to seek terms with Rufus.

And the terms that Rufus offered them were actually pretty reasonable.

Their lives would be spared.

But Odo and his conspirators would have to leave England and never again return without Rufus' permission.

Oh, and before Odo left, he would have to order the remaining rebels back at Rochester to pack it in and call it a day.

Now, personally, I wonder if that last bit was something that Odo brought up himself.

Like, at some point in the negotiations, maybe he offered to head up to Rochester and get them to stand down, you know, as a sign of good faith.

Because how this played out is a little strange.

Rather than carting Odo up to Rochester, along with the full royal army and then forcing him to surrender the city at sword point,

which is what you'd expect to happen when dealing with a rebel leader during an act of rebellion.

Instead, Rufus just sent him up there with a small force of guys.

The king didn't even go with them.

He just outsourced the whole thing to a skeleton crew.

Which is weird and not at all what I would do.

Though, to be fair, I'm not sure if my solution would be any any better.

I think I would have loaded Odo into one of those siege engines and then fired his grisly ass directly into the walls of Pevency.

Twice,

just to be sure.

But Rufus was acting with something resembling forgiveness and trust, which is surprising considering how sketchy Odo was.

But then again, maybe Odo just had a weird way with people, sort of like Swain Godwinson.

And maybe Rufus was really trusting.

Or maybe he wasn't the trusting one.

And it was Archbishop Lanfrank who talked Rufus down.

Because executing your uncle, who was also a bishop, isn't exactly a good look politically, and might inspire some more rebellions.

So maybe that's how it happened.

Either way, though, Odo was just put on the honor system and sent on his way.

And a couple days later, Odo and his escort arrived at Rochester.

And I doubt it took them very long to get admitted into the city.

The guards would have recognized the guy.

And I wish we had an account of what the king's men thought of the defenses once they entered Rochester.

Because Simeon tells us that within the walls, there were, quote, brave knights and almost all the nobility of Normandy and many noble Flemish, end quote.

The Chronicle also tells us that Rochester was housing, quote, all the best-born men that were in this land or in Normandy, end quote.

So this wasn't a minor encampment of rebels.

This was a damn army.

And in point of fact, it was an army that didn't look intimidated.

I mean, if the king's men were being honest with themselves, these fellas actually looked pretty intimidating.

And then the rebels drew their weapons.

And they brought out the manacles.

Oops.

Now the chronicle claims that Odo was imprisoned along with his escort and that this was done by the rebels of Rochester all on their own.

But Simeon tells us that his sources, quote, affirmed that this was done by the bishop's cunning, end quote.

And Odo

was Odo.

He was the kind of guy who had plans and backup plans and backup plans for his backup plans.

So I've got to be honest here.

I think Simeon's take is far more likely, and that as Odo and his escort rode into Rochester, he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

It was probably only a few days before word reached the king's encampment, and he learned that Odo and the rebels had no interest in surrendering Rochester.

And Orderic tells us that this was for good reason.

Rochester was an excellent location for the rebels, as it would allow them to make quick attacks on both Canterbury and London.

And by using the nearby access to the sea, they could also send messengers to Normandy and hopefully, finally, receive some support.

So the rebels, along with their fancy new hostages, weren't going anywhere.

And while I suspect that Odo was smiling over the entire affair, Rufus definitely wasn't.

He had another 50-mile-long forced march and another siege ahead of him.

A couple days later, Rufus and his army arrived at Rochester and they besieged the city.

All while Rufus was probably muttering about how he should have loaded his uncle onto a catapult and fired him into something sturdy.

But frustration or not, Rufus set straight to work and we're told that he invested the whole region with his army and had two large forts erected, closing off every avenue of egress.

They weren't getting out.

And Odo's plot twist aside, the tide was thoroughly turning against the rebels.

And Orderic informs us that by this point, Rufus had the support of all the bishops of England, which suggests that even Bishop William of Durham had given up his rebellion in the north.

He also had the support of the English public and the Norman nobles Earl Hugh of Chester, William de Warren, Robert Fitzhammon, and Earl Robert de Mowbray.

And that last one, Robert de Mowbray, might have surprised you, since de Mowbray was the rebel leader who had besieged Ilchester, lost, and then wallowed in melancholy.

Well, it looks like he shook off his existential angst, because Orderic tells us that he provided Rufus with both arms and counsel in his attempt to pry Odo out of Rochester.

But...

Not everyone was on the king's side.

Do you remember how Roger de Montgomery had been on the side of the rebellion, rebellion, but once the fighting began, he stayed inside his castle?

And then when Duke Robert failed to arrive, he switched sides and joined Rufus?

Well, here's the thing about that.

His kids were currently inside Rochester.

And so while he didn't dare raise arms against Rufus, he did provide, quote, secret aid to the besieged as far as it was in their power, end quote.

And Orderic tells us that he wasn't alone.

Many other Normans were doing the same.

Now, unfortunately, our old monk doesn't tell us what form this secret aid took.

Maybe it was arranging for breaks in the siege lines or in the blockade to allow for supplies to enter the city.

Or maybe it was undercutting the king's army.

There are all kinds of ways to provide secret aid.

There are also ways for the king's circle to provide not so secret aid, like advocating for a peaceful resolution.

But whatever they were doing, it wasn't enough.

Because as the siege stretched on, things inside Rochester started to get pretty grim.

The reinforcements from Normandy weren't coming.

And Orderic claims that this was because Robert, quote, was detained by sloth and indulgence, end quote.

And while it is possible that Robert had a wicked case of the Eidolwanas, I suspect that his absence was more thanks to the fact that England's naval capacity were simply superior to anything that the horsebros of Normandy could whip up, and Robert was functionally landlocked as a result.

Either way, though, the siege dragged on.

And keep in mind, we're talking about a large number of people and horses locked into a central location without any way of leaving.

Have you ever tried to use the Portaloos on the third day of Glastonbury?

Kind of grim, right?

Now imagine them on day 16.

Now Now imagine day 25.

Now consider the fact that they didn't even have Port-aulex in the 11th century, and knights weren't exactly famous for their interest in sanitation or logistics.

And all of them had been crammed into Rochester for God knows how long doing all the kinds of things that knights tend to do when under siege.

And while the river was right there past the walls, it was past the walls, which made it too far for them to reach.

What I'm saying here is that it was filthy inside Rochester.

Disgusting on a level that you probably shouldn't even imagine, but we're going to anyway.

Because adding to their troubles is also the fact that it was summer, and that means that it was hot and humid, which are just terrible conditions for human beings.

and excellent conditions for flies.

It would have started with just a few flies, attracted by the human waste and other rotting garbage that was strewn about the city.

That would have been followed by maggots, which were then followed by even more flies.

And I'm not talking about a few flies annoyingly buzzing around your head.

An average female fly lives about 30 days, and in that time, it lays around 500 eggs.

So if you start with only 500 female flies and a corresponding number of male flies, in two life cycles, you could have as many as 125 million flies.

And this was a medieval city.

So I'm pretty sure they started out with a lot more than 500 flies.

And it didn't take long before the rebels were completely overwhelmed.

Orderick says, quote, their swarms horribly infested their eyes and noses, food and drink.

So severely was the insolent band of rebels afflicted with the annoyance of the swarms that they could not eat their meals, either by day or night, unless a great number of them were employed, in turn, in flapping them away from their comrades' faces.

And the idea of Sir Ralph and a bunch of his compatriots just flapping their arms around just trying to get a sandwich in their faces is the kind of thing that you only get out of Orderic, and I love him for that.

But as bad as things were in Rochester, they weren't suffering alone.

Because flies just aren't that into politics.

And the dung pits at the siege lines were just as attractive as the dung pits within the city.

And so the king's army was also overwhelmed by swarms of flies.

And many of them, quote, fell sick from their various sufferings and their disorders increasing, at length died, end quote.

This had turned into a not-so-natural disaster.

And for Odo, things had definitely hit a breaking point.

So he sent an envoy to the king, offering terms.

He would surrender Rochester, and he and his supporters would also faithfully serve Rufus as their king.

In exchange, the rebels wanted to be reinstated and given all their lands back, as well as their titles and their possessions.

Rufus, upon hearing this, had a counterproposal.

Quote, he would seize by force of army the perfidious traitors shut up in the town and forthwith hang them on gibbets or sweep them from the earth by other kinds of death, end quote.

The king was absolutely livid, but his advisors were less so, because it was their family and friends who were locked inside Rochester, and no one wants to see their family hanging on gibbets.

Not even that one uncle who gets too drunk at Christmas and taunts your mom.

So they begged Rufus to show mercy.

They argued that mercy would earn far more loyalty than inflicting harsh punishments.

And besides, hadn't the rebels already learned their lessons?

I mean, look at all these flies.

But Rufus didn't buy it.

He'd been nice already, and look at what had happened.

He also pointed out that these guys were criminals, and criminals needed to be punished.

Letting them off would just invite more violence and instability.

And the nobles responded by basically saying, that's a fair point, but have you considered who you'd be condemning?

You've got family in there.

You've also got people who've been loyal to the House of Normandy since the days of your father.

And that, I guess, wasn't all that convincing because then the nobles adopted a different approach.

They pointed out that the people in there that you're thinking about punishing are powerful and rich.

And do you really want to punish the rich and powerful?

Wouldn't it be better to just let them off, you know, in case you need their support later on?

But this argument of class solidarity and quid pro quo was actually a bit ahead of its time.

Because apparently in the 11th century, transactional justice hadn't yet caught on because Rufus insisted on punishment, even of the rich.

And so while he did decide to spare the rebels' lives to appease his court, he still punished them.

They were banished from England, and they were stripped of all of their lands, titles, and possessions.

And that was the end of it.

Almost.

You see, when the Normans conquered an enemy force, or when they took down a castle by storm, it was traditional that trumpeters would sound a flourish when the enemy garrison marched out.

And unfortunately, we don't have a copy of what this sounded like, because apparently none of our scribes thought to set up a sound studio and record it.

But basically, what we're talking about here was a little musical middle finger to the vanquished.

And Odo, being more of a general than a bishop, had been part of this little tradition more than a few times.

And he was not keen to be on the other side of it.

So he asked his nephew, the king, to order just this once, just for me, your uncle, have the trumpeters remain silent when me and my men march out.

It'll be really embarrassing otherwise.

And come on, man, we're family.

And I simply cannot believe the balls on this guy.

And neither could Rufus.

Because the king lost his nerve at this point, shouting basically where Odo could shove his request and saying that he wouldn't grant this request even if the old bastard offered him a thousand marks of gold.

And so, at the appointed time, the gates opened and the fly-bitten rebels sullenly departed the city, having lost everything in England but their lives.

Once outside of the gates, Odo and his supporters were met by a great cacophony from the assembled Englishmen in the king's army.

They hurled all manner of insults at them, jeers, threats, demands that Odo be hanged along with his accomplices.

It was a humiliating scene.

And then the trumpeters announced their departure.

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