443 – We’re Bigger Than Jesus

Welcome to the British History Podcast.

My name is Jamie, and this is episode 443: We're Bigger Than Jesus.

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King Griffith Abkunen was ruling over Gwynedd.

Again.

The first time he seized the throne of Gwynedd, he had found himself immediately fighting the combined armies of both Powys and, surprisingly, Gwyneth, and he lost.

So, this time, Griffith was making sure to cross every T and dot every I before he officially took the throne.

So, after he and his army of Irishmen, Danes, and disaffected Welshmen were done killing people into Highbarth, Griffith Ap Koonen ravaged southern Gwynedd.

Then he ravaged much of Powys before going back and pacifying the rest of Gwynedd, which was probably just a euphemism for even more killing.

And only after all of that was done did Griffith entrench himself in northern Wales as the king of Gwynedd.

And fair play to Griffith.

Despite his brutal tactics, he wasn't making the same mistake twice here.

Instead, he was making a completely new mistake.

By preemptively attacking and killing any potential Welsh rebels, he was heading off the possibility of facing a well-organized Welsh rebel army.

But he was also guaranteeing that his new kingdom was in tatters, and nearly everyone left alive was now his enemy.

And it wasn't like he was lacking enemies to begin with.

Chief among them was Robert of Rivlin.

the Norman commander who had helped put him on the throne during that first conquest, only to later find himself betrayed by Griffith and under attack by a supposed ally.

And Robert was...

well, he was less than pleased about how all that went down.

And the same could be said about Robert's boss and cousin, the Earl of Chester, Hugh Lupus.

And actually, members will remember Hugh Lupus as the Norman buddy of William the Conqueror, who was elevated to an insanely wealthy land magnate.

The very same man whose living descendants are still making money by renting out huge chunks of England to the peasants, I mean, the citizens who live on it.

In fact, if you're in the UK right now and have a landlord, there's a good chance that you're paying rent to one of Hugh's descendants.

So the point here is that Griffith had some pretty powerful enemies who were stationed just across the Welsh border.

And as you probably noticed by Robert's nickname, well, they were enemies who had a history of crossing that border and occupying Welsh territory.

But I'm sure it's going to be fine.

Anyway, so there was this guy named Marion, and he had a bone to pick with Griffith, which at this point, a lot of Welshmen did.

But Marion was special.

You see, he was the lord of Flane, and it included Carnarvon and a bunch of other nearby regions.

So we're talking about an influential and wealthy noble.

And actually, back during Griffith's first conquest, Marion and his two brothers had allied themselves with Griffith.

They threw their Ladden with them, thinking that this Irish-born Welshman would improve things in the kingdom.

But then Griffith turned out to be more of a tyrant than they'd anticipated, and he began installing his Irish mercs in their local Welsh communities.

And, well, they didn't like that too much.

So Marion and his brothers got some boyos together, fixed the Merc problem, and kicked the chair out from underneath Griffith's first conquest.

In response, Griffith branded Marion and his brothers traitors, but I'm guessing they didn't worry too much about that because following Griffith's defeat by Trehern, that really should have been the last that anyone saw of this guy and his Irish friends.

But here he was back in Wales, and he was up to his old tricks again, killing Welshmen and nicking their stuff.

And Marion wasn't having it.

So, while Griffith was out there doing typical kingly stuff, you know, traveling through his domain, collecting collecting taxes, staying at fancy estates of his vassals, and generally enjoying the wealth and privilege that comes from a successful conquest.

Marion was on the move.

Now, our source for this story is the life of Griffith.

So, obviously, it's going to have a bit of slant here.

And in this text, Marion is cast as the ultimate traitor, literally motivated by the devil himself.

And conversely, Griffith is naturally cast as the rightful king restored to his kingdom.

But if you look at this from the perspective of the Welshmen who are living at the time, well, they had just been conquered by basically an Irish raider and his Irish raider friends.

And in that light, Marion is less of a traitor and more of a freedom fighter.

But at the same time, I get why the scribes were all, nah, this guy was in league with the devil and just the absolute worst.

Because if Marion was a freedom fighter, he was a particularly desperate one.

Because lacking support and supplies, Marion headed for England and sought the help of their most powerful Hughes.

Now, as you might imagine, Marion found a rather eager audience for his story and all the useful information that was coming with it.

Because he knew where the king was.

Griffith was staying in the Denbyshire community of Corwin, but apparently accommodations there weren't precisely to his liking, so he was lodging at a manor located in the nearby estate of Rieg, which was about two miles away.

Now, the scribe of the life tells us that it was Marion himself who convinced Griffith to go to Rieg.

The idea here is that Marion was setting up a traitorous ambush by saying to him, hey, you should go to Rieg.

I've got some friends who really want to meet you and it will be fine.

You're definitely going to be safe.

But don't forget to bring all of your Irish friends with you.

Which is a hilarious story, but also highly unlikely.

I mean, this guy had already openly switched sides and been branded as a traitor.

So I find it hard to believe that the guards would let him within 10 miles of Griffith, let alone give him advice on the best local bed and breakfast.

Furthermore, traveling among the Cantreffi was how a Welsh king ruled.

And honestly, the schedule and course of that circuit would have probably been predictable.

So even if Merriam was a close advisor of Griffith and could suggest changes to his schedule, which he definitely wasn't, by the way, he still wouldn't have needed to do that.

There would be places that kings went, and when they went there, there would be places where the kings stayed.

Any Welshman worth his rare bit would have been able to guess the general course of Griffith's travels.

So, much like the claim that the devil was influencing him, I suspect the scribes were spicing up their story to make Marion even more wicked and awful.

But regardless of how it happened, Griffith and his Irish mercs were in rig.

And Earl Hugh of Chester and Earl Hugh of Shrewsbury, along with a sizable army, were headed there for a visit as well.

Griffith didn't stand a chance.

He was clearly outnumbered, and he had no choice but to surrender.

The newest Welsh king was shackled and taken to Chester as a prisoner.

There, he was thrown into jail and left to rot.

As for his Irish companions, well, keeping that many men in jail would be expensive.

So, in the name of frugality, they were released.

But first, they cut the right hand off of every single one of them.

And I don't know how many of them died from the trauma and infection that was likely to follow.

But it was probably a lot.

And those who survived were now maimed, unable to fulfill their military duties, and without much of a livelihood.

Marion had gotten his revenge.

But it came with a heavy cost.

Gwynedd had been devastated by Griffith's campaigns and wars, and now, with Griffith's downfall and the lack of a clear heir, they could add political instability to all of their problems.

Not to mention the fact that their lands were now full of Normans, and those Normans intended to stay.

Hugh Lupus and Robert of Rithlin wasted no time in establishing their dominion over Gwyneth.

And because they were Normans, that meant they went about constructing castles.

Actually, they already had one at Rithlin, and it would be joined by several more all across northern Wales, in Bangor, Aberthleniog, and Carnarvon.

Marion may have intended to free Gwyneth from outside influence, but all he had done was trade Irish domination for Norman domination.

And the Norman occupation and colonization was only just beginning.

But speaking of the Irish, they had also become a thorn in the side of the English as well.

Well, at least some of the English.

It's been a little while since we discussed this topic, but you might remember that slavery was very much falling out of favor in England, but the slave markets of Dublin were still booming.

So, if you were one of those members of English society that was still down with slavery, well, there were still some opportunities to make some profit from that trade.

And sure enough, there were people doing that.

Now, if you're already a bit of an English history buff, you may have heard that William outlawed slavery in England at pretty much this moment in history.

Well, that bit of trivia actually comes with some pretty enormous caveats.

First of all, Slavery had already been on the outs in England for generations.

For example, you might recall Bishop Wolfstan's Sermon of the Wolf to the English, the fiery speech from the time of Canute, which castigated anyone practicing slavery.

And actually, by the time of William, slavery was only practiced in a very small number of towns in England.

So giving William credit for banning something that was already very rare is a bit grandiose.

But beyond that, the document where this little factoid comes from, the Willemi Articuli,

actually claims that he banned it on ethical grounds.

We're told that William simply hated slavery.

And given all that we know about William, it seems odd that he would suddenly become concerned about the welfare of the English people once they were enslaved.

I mean, do we honestly think that he would happily engage in the harrying of the North, but then suddenly become concerned for the lives of the Northumbrians once they started selling themselves into slavery in an attempt to avoid starving to death because of his harrying?

Was that really the line that he was drawing between moral and immoral treatment of his fellow man?

I mean, I guess it's possible.

People hold contradictory views and draw lines between acceptable brutality and unacceptable brutality all the time.

But in the case of William, we don't have to wonder if that was the case here, because we have more than William's self-serving legal document to understand this policy.

We also have William of Malmsbury.

And Malmsbury tells us quite the tale about how this ban on slavery came about.

Far from hating the practice, Malmsbury tells us that William was quite fond of how much money he was making off of it.

Which makes perfect sense to me.

The guy was forever looking for new sources of income and taxing slavery would have been quite the lucrative side gig.

Malmsbury goes on to tell us that actually it was Archbishop Landfrank who wanted the practice stopped.

We're not told why, but my guess is he was getting older and he was starting to realize that eventually he was gonna have to answer to Big J.

And frankly, he'd been involved in a few ventures that might not go down too well with a particular hippie carpenter.

But whatever the motivation was, Malmsbury tells us that Lanfrank went to William and urged him to end slavery.

And this was apparently a heavy lift.

because the king was making out like a bandit on those taxes.

So Lanfrank played to William's sense of Norman's supremacy.

He essentially argued that as Normandy had outlawed slavery in the early 11th century, this practice was just foreign.

And do we really want to allow the continuation of this lousy English policy when there was a superior Norman policy available?

And William, after much debate, agreed, and a law was drafted announcing that the practice was outlawed.

But here's where we get the biggest caveat on the statement that William ended English slavery.

English slavery didn't end.

It continued, as did the taxes that William was profiting from.

For example, the Doomsday Book, which was his census, chirpily lists the revenue that was collected from the slave trade in Lewis.

So it very much looks like what was happening here was William was keeping Land Frank happy with a little legal pillow talk, but was never actually letting go of all of that money.

So yeah, I very much doubt that he deplored the practice, as the Articuli claims.

In fact,

I think he quite liked the profit from it, which is why he let it continue.

But once William had handled Landfrank's last ditch effort to get some extra credit before heading to finals, the king was finally able to head back to Normandy.

You see, Count Fulk of Anjou was pressing into Maine, which meant that William was going to have to deal with it.

And it seems that Robert went with him.

And that actually makes sense, as Robert had once held the title of Count of Maine, so his presence was probably required in order to underscore the political legitimacy of William's intervention.

But I doubt that William was thrilled about having to bring Robert.

As I mentioned previously, it doesn't look like he even liked him all that much to begin with.

But after that rebellion, well, he never forgave him.

However, when we look at the documents that were drafted in Normandy from this period, we do see another signatory which is much more expected and was probably much more to William's liking.

William Brufus.

So, likely in the fall of 1081, the boys set off for Normandy and war.

And Ordery claims that he had gathered an army of 60,000 soldiers from Normandy, England, as well as assorted allies from Maine.

And we have Angevin records of the bastard attacking castles during this period.

So they were quite busy over there.

And while all of that was going on, Matilda remained in England.

And that's unusual.

For years, throughout the cross-channel rule, Matilda had been a regular fixture in Normandy.

When there was a crisis big enough that forced William to go to England, Matilda almost always remained in the duchy and governed in his stead.

Even when events in Normandy were chaotic, she still would usually stay in Normandy.

But something had changed this time.

William was in Normandy, but she was in England.

Why?

Well, we aren't told, but there are plenty of possible reasons, and actually I suspect that the reality was a blend of several of them.

First, these two were a political couple, and they've been doing the divide and conquer thing for years.

Whenever William went abroad to kill some strangers, Matilda stayed home and governed Normandy.

So there is precedent for having Matilda govern in William's stead.

And when we look at the records of her activities following William's departure in 1081, we do see her acting as regent.

And you know, had she been ruling in Normandy with William going to England, this wouldn't even merit a mention.

But this was a complete reversal of the norm.

And that's weird.

In fact, when William was in Normandy, rule of England was typically left to FitzOsborne or Odo,

you know, with the side of Landfrank.

So, why the change here?

Well, for one, I wouldn't be shocked if there was a personal reason for this decision.

With William back in Normandy, Matilda would be expected to be a regular fixturing court, as she had been in the past.

And the royal couple might not have been feeling it just then.

I mean, their marriage, following the events of Pisgate, seemed tense.

Matilda, in particular, didn't seem thrilled with the bastard.

And if you ask me, she had a good reason.

I mean, there are a lot of books on how to build a successful marriage, and not one of them recommends trying to execute your son.

And then, when your wife refuses to back you on this plan, threatening to mutilate her friend.

That's guaranteed to ensure that if there was any love in that relationship, it's gone now and not even John Gottman's gonna save it.

But beyond that, William's list of people he trusted had always been a short one.

It was mostly Matilda, FitzOsbourne, and Odo.

But FitzOsburn was dead.

And as for Odo?

Well,

if William needed something done, Bishop Odo stood ready to deal with it.

Especially if that task involved theft or violence.

Remember, despite the title, Odo was much more of a commander than a priest.

But while Odo had been loyal and trusted in the past, recently he had become a bit of an embarrassment for William.

That fraud trial at Penneden Heath was just the tip of the iceberg.

Odo was also breaking pretty sharply with Pope Gregory VII and his canons.

And he was becoming a bit of a loose canon in general.

But beyond the fact that he he was becoming a political liability, there was also the fact that Odo had ambition, like way more ambition than you'd expect.

And while he kept getting in trouble for that, it wasn't slowing him down.

And that must have had William a bit concerned about how far Odo was willing to go.

So you can imagine that William wasn't thrilled about the prospect of leaving rule of England in that guy's hands.

Which may mean that Matilda was was the best option he had, even though she had been secretly supporting Robert's rebellion and William had only recently tried to mutilate her friend in revenge.

But the point is, there were plenty of reasons why she was staying in England while William was in Normandy.

And looking at the records, this wasn't a minor trip.

She was in England for about a year, all while William remained in Normandy.

There wasn't even a break for the holidays and a Christmas reunion.

But while she wasn't overly fond of England, she did keep herself busy.

We see her getting involved in the operations of the Bishopric of Durham, and we also see her taking a serious look into how Odo had used his time when he was acting as regent, and particularly how he had been handling real estate.

And I'm guessing she found plenty of things of interest there.

After all, one of the longest and best recorded legal cases of this era was over Odo's sketchy real estate schemes that were targeting Archbishop Lanfrank.

And if this guy was willing to defraud the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Crown, I'm guessing Unfirth and Sir Ralph didn't stand a chance.

So, that was how the year was closed out.

With William and the boys on the continent dealing with territorial disputes, sieges, and warfare, and Matilda in England looking into whatever the hell the last guy had been up to.

And as for Odo,

well, I suspect Odo could see the writing on the wall.

So according to Orderik, he started talking to some new friends.

Church friends.

Roman friends.

Now, as you know, the church of this era was in crisis.

Pope Gregory and his allies were seeking to institute a wide variety of reforms that would strip a lot of wealth and power from both church officials and secular authorities.

They were also looking to change the very real and very personal lives of the churchmen.

And a lot of people were mad as hell about what was happening.

I mean, if you were a barista at Starbucks and suddenly your manager told you that you had to get a divorce, could no longer have sex, and you weren't allowed to sell handmade soap on Etsy anymore, you'd probably wonder who the hell this guy thought he was.

And that's pretty much where the church was at.

And in response, the manager was saying, I'm Pope Gregory the 7th.

And the angry priests and secular authorities were saying, well, I didn't vote for you.

And I don't recognize your fancy new name, Hildebrand.

Maybe I'll get my own pope.

A better pope.

A cooler pope.

Who likes sex.

And you'll never guess who they had in mind to become the new supreme pontiff of Christendom.

Yep, Odo.

And I know, it's hard to imagine a real estate magnate who's never lived a pious moment in his life and who was also famously unchaste and didn't seem at all interested in religious matters, suddenly being declared the savior of the faith for some reason.

But try your best.

And so this faction decided to go to Odo, and naturally, they backed up their pitch with some magic.

Orderk tells us that they got some sorcerers in Rome to look into this dilemma.

He literally uses the term sorcerers.

And apparently, after having done the necessary rituals, Dumbledore and Doctor Strange declared that Odo was destined to become the next pope, which meant that what they were bringing before Odo wasn't a matter of politics.

This was a matter of prophecy.

And Odo, who was probably looking into new business opportunities should the Odo organization get dissolved, was just ecstatic over this new venture.

We're told that he went so far as to mock the wealth and power of his brother, King William, saying that his sad little paltry affair would be nothing compared to what he, Odo, Pope Odo, would ultimately wield once in Rome.

Bold.

Like I said, Odo was ambitious.

And eager to be raised, quote, above all earthly princes, end quote, he, quote, dispatched his emissaries to Rome, where he purchased a palace and conciliating the senators by magnificent gifts.

He ornamented his residence with lavish expense.

So he was paving his way into power by buying property near the place where he wanted to take office, while also exploiting the greed of senators.

Again, this is an absurd series of events that's hard to imagine, but do your best.

Anyway, according to holy sorcery, Odo's star was on the rise.

And given the scrutiny his actions in England were beginning to get, I'm guessing he was a bit eager to relocate.

So, with the groundwork laid out, Odo began to make his next move.

See, there was another rising star in England.

Hugh Lupus, the Earl of Chester.

He and his cousin, Robert of Rithlin, were currently gobbling up northern Wales and adding it to their already sizable portfolios.

These guys were rich.

Very rich.

But what Odo was offering was really tempting.

If he was the next Pope, he wouldn't be handing out towns and villages in soggy old England as William had been doing.

Odo, by his own estimation, was about to acquire vastly larger amounts of wealth and power than William would ever see.

And it was wealth and power in areas that could also produce a decent bottle of wine.

So Hugh could either stay here and content himself with whatever towns and villages he might be able to steal in the soggy backwater, or he could go with Odo to Rome.

The center of Christendom, the center of civilization, the soul of Europe.

And once the prophecy is fulfilled, he would be first in line to be rewarded in ways that would make his possessions in England and France pale in comparison.

And it turned out that these extravagant promises of wealth were exactly what Hugh and a bunch of other Normans wanted to hear.

Because we're told that he, along with a load of other distinguished knights, declared that they were joining Odo's cause and they would follow him to Italy.

I mean, sure.

William had made them rich, but Odo was promising to make them richer.

So, uh, best of luck in England, Bill, but we're going to the boot.

However, not everyone was that impressed with Odo's bid to become the lizon al-Ghaib.

Some people thought this sounded a hell of a lot less like prophecy and a lot more like treason.

And these killjoys immediately crossed the channel and snitched to the king.

William, who was fighting on the continent to maintain his grip on Maine, realized that he really had no choice here.

If he ignored what Odo was doing, he might lose England entirely.

I mean, God knows how many men his garbage half-brother was taking with him on this harebrained scheme.

So he jumped on a ship, again, and crossed the channel as quick as the winds could take him.

Meanwhile, Bishop Odo, Earl Hugh, and a quote, goodly company of distinguished knights, end quote, were assembling their fleet on the Isle of Wight.

A fleet that would take take them to Rome and to destiny.

And they were probably so busy with their duties and their plans that they didn't notice the markings on the ships that were coming into view.

And these ships made it all the way to port at the Isle of Wight without raising any suspicion as to who was in them.

But upon landing, William, quote, presented himself unexpectedly to Bishop Odo when he was at the point of sailing for Normandy with a pompous retinue, end quote.

Odo had been caught red-handed.

And because William was the king, he didn't travel alone.

Wherever the king was, so was the court.

Now, granted, this court was probably smaller than usual given the current war with Anjou, but it still was court.

So this is a bit like trying to rob a bank, but accidentally breaking into the courthouse instead, and finding a jury already assembled, and the prosecutor is like, oh good, you're here.

We can start the trial.

This was bad.

And we're told William turned to his court and basically said, so what do you think I should do with this guy?

I left him in charge of England while I was dealing with the revolts in Normandy.

I even left him in charge when my own rotten son revolted against me.

And now, yet again, I'm dealing with war, and this time with Anjou and the rebellious people of Maine.

And while I'm fighting these wars for the public good, for all our own good, what does my brother do?

He oppresses the English, he robs the church of land and also of ornaments and treasures.

We're talking about honors and endowments of all kinds that have been heaped upon the churches of England for generations.

But rather than following in kind, my brother has greedily sought to take those endowments for himself.

And if that wasn't bad enough, now I learn he's stripping England of the knights that it needs to defend itself from the Danes and the Irish.

And need I remind you that the Danes and the Irish remain a constant threat for us.

And why is he doing this?

Because he wants to take them to Italy of all places.

So to sum up, Odo, my half-brother, was tasked with protecting England, and instead he, quote, cruelly oppressed the poor, has seduced my knights on frivolous pretenses, and has spread disorder through the whole of England by his unjust exactions.

Consider then, prudently, what is to be done, and let me know, I pray you, what you advise, end quote.

Now, only that last bit was a direct quote, because the rest of it was just too ordericky to read for you word for word.

But that is really what he claims William said.

It was a damning statement from the king.

But despite all of this, and despite getting caught with two red hands and his pants down, apparently the court was hesitant to move against him.

Odo, after all, was rich and he had powerful friends.

And I know, it's hard to imagine living in a society where the government might be reluctant to bring a case against an ambitious, blatant scoff law just because he's rich.

But try.

Now for William, this was a direct strike at his authority.

If Odo could do something like this and suffer no consequences for it, then William wasn't a king.

He was a paper tiger.

And so he said this to the assembled nobles.

Quote, A dangerous ambition must always be curbed, and an individual must not be spared for favor or affection to the public detriment.

Let this man, therefore, who disturbs the state be arrested and closely confined, that he may not do further mischief.

End quote.

And this actually reminds me of that awesome clickhole article.

Heartbreaking, the worst person you know just made a great point.

Because William was absolutely right here.

Something did have to be done about this.

Unfortunately, there was also a pretty big problem with his statement.

The problem was his audience.

You see, William had spent most of his time in Normandy, while Odo had been here in England doing Odo things.

So they knew who this guy was and how vicious he could be.

And so despite the king's command, no one wanted to be the one to grab Odo and throw him in jail.

Which makes sense.

God knows what would happen to them once he got out.

Once it was clear that his subjects were cowed, William had no choice choice but to lead by example.

He strode forward and grabbed Odo himself.

Odo was outraged and declared he wasn't the criminal here.

Actually, it was the king who was breaking the law.

And I know, it's hard to imagine a major political figure claiming that anyone who investigates him is the real criminal, but try.

And Odo's argument here was that because he was a bishop, only the pope could condemn him.

William replied, quote, I'm not arresting a bishop or a cleric.

I am arresting an earl and a regent who had been entrusted with the safekeeping of my kingdom.

And it is my will, the king's will, that you will describe in full what the f you've been doing here, Odo.

And try as he might, Odo couldn't wiggle out of that one.

As for Hugh Lupus and the assembled knights, well, William didn't bother having them arrested.

Instead, they were just sent back to their posts.

And I think that's the strongest indication yet of how strained William's grip on power was.

At the very least, this was mutiny.

At worst, it was treason.

But once Odo was thrown in chains, his supporters were just sent back home and told to keep the kingdom safe.

And with that handled, Odo was dragged to William's ship and taken to Rouen, to the center of William's power and far from Odo's, which was smart.

And there he remained imprisoned in William's castle.

Now, amazingly, Pope Gregory VII, the guy who had been trying to reform the church so it wasn't so Odoey, the guy who Odo was planning on replacing by, it seems, any means necessary, you know, the guy whose politics and theology stood in stark contrast to Odo's, that pope, well, he was horrified to hear that Odo was facing consequences.

And so Gregory was pulling every lever he had to try and get him out of it.

And I know, it's hard to imagine something as flimsy and self-serving as class allegiance would inspire a world leader to stand in the way of basic law enforcement.

But try.

But despite the Pope's best efforts, William was nothing if not stubborn.

And so long as the king lived, Odo remained imprisoned at Rouen.

And even when William was on his deathbed, he was still mad at Odo, who was still imprisoned in Rouen.

Turns out that prophecy was more of a wish list.

What an awful day.

What an awful day.

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, you can reach me at the British History Podcast at gmail.com.

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Thanks for listening.

Into endless woe

and bloom, endless woe and bloom.