484 – Final Destination: The New Forest

Welcome to the British History Podcast.

My name is Jamie, and this is episode 484, Final Destination: The New Forest.

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Okay, when we left off, Rufus had just thrown himself a big look-at-me celebration.

And the prevailing response appears to have been, oh yeah, man, we see you.

And that wasn't even the worst part of his year.

Over in Maine, Hellias was back to calling himself a count and had even started arming up for the fight that Rufus had promised him.

Over in North Wales, King Griffith was back on the throne, having ejected Earl Hugh Lupus from Gwynedd yet again.

And really, the only thing that had swung in the king's favor recently was all the way in Rome, when Anselm had somehow managed to damage his own cause and apparently the Pope's will to live.

So the point I'm getting at here is that in 1099,

things were going great.

But, while I think we can all agree that Rufus was at a low point in terms of popularity and allies, there was one person in England who was held in even less regard.

Ranolph Flambard.

You see, folks were pretty sure that Ranolph was behind a lot of the things that they hated about Rufus' government.

And, frankly, even if he wasn't behind it, he was often the one implementing those things, which was just as bad.

And on top of that, a ton of the things that Anselm had traveled to Rome to complain to the Pope about were things that Ranolph specifically had been doing.

But it had just gotten worse because at that Whitsun party, where the king tried to look cool and failed, and instead multiple earls were openly talking trash, and even the p-duck gallery were throwing shade at how over-the-top the king's new hall was.

Well, right in the middle of all of that, Rufus decided that now was an excellent time to give Ranolph a bishopric.

Well, another bishopric.

Thanks to the king's policy of leaving bishoprics empty and seizing all the income for himself, Ranolph had been administering a lot of bishoprics lately, though not as a real bishop, more like an acting bishop.

But this time, the king was giving Ranolph the real thing.

He was going to be a proper official bishop.

And he wasn't just getting any bishopric.

He was getting the bishopric of Durham, one of the most wealthy and influential in England.

Why?

Well, probably because it was one of the rare vacant bishoprics that was being administered by a local chaplain rather than Ranolph.

And that didn't suit the crown's monetary policy.

Luckily, Ranolph was just the man to turn holy orders into quarterly profit statements.

And so Durham was sold to Ranolph for a thousand quid.

And there was nothing that anyone in attendance at the Whitsun Party could do about it.

The attendees just stood there in this enormous new palace and watched as yet another piece of the country was sold to the king's fixer.

But, you know, looting and pillaging your own kingdom is tiring work, not to mention all the feuds and wars and scandals.

So the king was absolutely desperate for a little R.

And so once the Whitsun celebration was done, King Rufus began to plan his holiday.

And being a Norman noble, that meant he was gonna go hunting.

And fortunately, there was an excellent spot really close to Winchester.

It was called the New Forest.

Now, this wood was such a good spot for hunting that Rufus's father, the Conqueror, had declared it the property of the king and cleared out a whole bunch of villages to make sure that his vacation spot would remain pristine.

And the rare commoners who were allowed to remain in their homes were strictly forbidden to hunt, which meant that this forest was absolutely teeming with game.

It was pretty much the perfect place to go if you were a hunter.

Now, granted, Rufus' eldest brother had died while hunting in those woods, which, in a normal family, would have probably made the new forest less of a vacation spot and more of a place for mourning, or at least a place where you felt a little unsettled to be in.

But the House of Normandy were not a normal family.

So, not long after the Whitsun celebration, Rufus and his pals saddled up and headed to the new forest.

Now, given recent events, I'm not sure how many pals he actually had left, but he did have Ranolph Lombard.

That dude was so ride or die for Rufus that even though he had just been consecrated as a bishop, he didn't even bother going to Durham.

He went on this hunting trip instead.

Possibly, because when a medieval nobleman, especially a king, went hunting, well frightening the local fauna was only half the fun.

There was also the revelry.

Imagine these excursions less like rugged outdoorsmen living off the land, and more like royal glamping.

Yeshmooze, ya booze, yashoot.

And when they reached the edge of the forest, at Brockenhurst, the king and his company kicked off their trip by settling down while the servants prepared a feast.

It was time to party.

And as the feasting began, and the king tucked into what I assumed to be a medieval equivalent of a fancy barbecue, a messenger rode into camp.

And this wasn't just any messenger.

This was Amalchis, the servant of Robert of Belem.

And that right there was a bad sign, because Belem was in France, governing over his newly acquired lands and helping keep Maine suppressed.

So what was his servant doing here?

Even worse, why did he look so shook?

But, you know, this was also the royal vacay, so pretty much no one paid attention to him, and Amalchis, for his part, stayed on the sidelines, probably tightly gripping the sealed letter in his hands as he let the party continue to roll.

Only when the king got up from the table did the messenger dare approach Rufus and greet him.

And upon hearing that he was one of Balem's men, the king asked how things were going over in Maine and how his knights were faring in Le Mans.

And here's the thing.

Orderic says that Amalchis kept this short.

No details, just three sentences.

Barely more than, it's bad over there, please help.

And that strikes me as unlikely given what happens next.

So I'm guessing this conversation between Amalchis and Rufus had a lot more details, because it was very bad over there.

And luckily, we have a whole variety of sources about what was happening in Maine, so we don't have to rely on just Orderic.

And actually, even Orderic implies that Rufus was somehow told what was happening.

I guess the old monk just didn't feel like writing it all out himself.

So, what I'm gonna do here is combine the sources and fill you in on the main situation through a briefing that this messenger, who I can only imagine, was at his wit's end and may well have just brain-dumped on the king.

And the way I imagined it, upon being asked how things were going over there, Amalcus may have broken down and it just all came spilling out.

Okay, okay.

So it all started when Hellius pillaged the border marches between Maine and Normandy on Easter Day.

Easter?

That was about two months ago.

Why am I just hearing about this now?

Honestly, Your Highness, I'm not sure.

Maybe the lords thought they could handle Count Hellius themselves.

Count Hellius?

Oh yeah, yeah.

He's calling himself Count again, and honestly, I can kind of see why.

He's got a bunch of castles now and an army and an army?

Oh yeah, no, Hellius went full scorched earth, and it turned out the locals were into it.

Even people he were raiding were like running out of their houses and joining him.

It was nuts.

And eventually he got so many people on his side that he started attacking your knights directly and forced them into a retreat.

Okay, and that's when you were sent to deliver this message.

Oh, no, no.

Um, yeah, I think the lords at this point still thought they had it covered.

But in June.

June?

Yeah, so in June, it got really bad.

Hellius just had a huge f ⁇ off army by this point, and he was all, yeah, let's march on the Mons.

And his army was all, we, we, and your guys, you know, the garrison, well, they didn't want to let you down, so they suited up and tried to take Hellias' rebels by surprise out in the field.

But uh

yeah, there were so many rebels, but your knights were like super brave, though, and so it took them a long time to lose.

Lose?

Oh, yeah, no, they lost big time.

They had to run right back into the city.

Okay, so the city is under siege then?

Uh, kind of.

See, the rebels, it turns out, were super fast.

I think they've been working out or something.

So when your garrison got into the city, they didn't have the chance to close the gates and the rebels just ran right in behind them.

It was crazy.

But the townsfolk stopped them, right?

Uh, no, actually, when Hellias and his men entered the city, the townsfolk were pretty happy about it.

What?

Oh yeah, no, they started cheering, then they joined the rebels, and so your soldiers and knights were running for their lives, being chased through the streets by like angry shopkeepers and cobblers and shit as they fled towards their citadel where you know they kept their supplies and stuff.

Tell me they made it and they managed to close at least those gates.

Oh yeah, that part went great.

And inside your castellan, Walter Fitzanger, incredible name by the way, well, the son of anger had his Smiths melt down a bunch of scrap metal and then they loaded the molten scrap onto the catapults and then just flung it out into the city.

It was sick.

Yeah, but yep, you're seeing where this is going.

They also figured that part out pretty quick.

It was summer, so all those wood buildings went up pretty fast, and now Le Mans is pretty much just La Ash now.

Okay.

Okay.

So it's done then.

Oh god, no, no.

Those fires made the rebels super mad.

So they besieged the castle.

Like a thousand people surrounded the castle.

They even pressed their siege lines all the way up to the drawbridge.

And they kept trying to take the castle by storm, and when they weren't doing that, they were doing things like setting up gallows and inviting the knights from your garrison to come down for a swing.

Jesus Christ.

Okay, and

wait, you're Balem's man.

What's your master doing in response to this?

Oh, he's at his castle at Balon.

He's got a bunch of guys garrisoned in there.

He's pretty safe against attack, but I don't think he can take down Hellias.

People seem to really like Helius.

So he wrote a letter to you.

Oh, actually, yeah, here's his letter.

This is from Belem.

Not Hellias.

Now, there wasn't much Rufus could do with a letter.

So the king broke the seal and immediately handed it off to Ranolf, who read it and told the king that it confirmed everything Amalchis had said.

Enraged by this, Rufus rushed off to grab his horse, and his advisors, trying to keep up, urged the king to summon his army.

But that would take time, and Rufus didn't have time.

He didn't dare wait.

Those bastards were taunting his men with a noose.

And besides, he really needed a vacation.

Like, holy crap, did he ever need a vacation?

And there was just no way he'd be able to relax and enjoy the hunt if he knew Hellius was out there stealing mane out from underneath him.

So there's nothing to be done for it.

Tactics demanded quick action, and so did his holiday plans.

So William Rufus spurred his horse into motion, and turning back to his worried companions, shouted, Let's see who'll follow me.

Do you think I shan't have men?

If I know my lads, they'll fly to me even through raging seas, end quote.

And he was off.

A short while later, the king arrived at Southampton.

In some records, they describe him as showing up almost completely alone, in other versions he had his household household with him.

And if I had to guess, I'd wager that he arrived with most of his hunting companions, minus anyone who was sent to Winchester or elsewhere to raise the army, either on his orders or on the orders of one of his advisors.

Now some records report that Rufus had also summoned mercenaries to join him for the crossing, but he was moving so quickly that they hadn't arrived yet, and the king had no desire to wait around.

Instead, he issued an order that the Merc should hurry behind him as soon as they arrived, and he prepared to board a ship.

Though, while the king had clearly traveled as quickly as he could, by the time he arrived at the coast, the mild weather that they'd enjoyed while at the hunting lodge had turned.

And we're told it wasn't just heavy rain.

There was also a heavy wind blowing in the wrong direction, and it was kicking up enormous waves.

It was exactly the kind of situation that could easily sink a ship.

But Rufus didn't care about any of that.

He was king, and he wanted to get to Maine as soon as possible.

So he demanded that a ship be prepared for the crossing.

But while the king wasn't concerned about the storm, the captain of the ship that he was commandeering was.

So he asked the king, probably very, very carefully, if he would rather, you know, wait until the weather improved, explaining, again, how rough seas carried a serious risk of shipwreck and drowning.

Rufus reportedly replied to this, silence, fellow, you have never yet seen a king drown, and I'm certainly not going to be the first.

Order the sailors to man the oars.

Another account has him adding to this, you'll find that the wind and sea will soon do as I want.

And if he really did say that, then he was claiming that he had command over the seas, which was textbook blasphemy.

And if there's one thing that sailors love, it's sailing with someone who has just angered God.

So I can only imagine the crew's morale at this point.

But at the same time, what could they do?

This was a king who casually threatened to tear people's eyes out over a letter.

A king who reigned over a government that was remarkably castration focused.

And so you could bet that if they refused him, he'd order at least one of those punishments.

Probably both.

So the sailors decided to take their chances with the sea, which was less violent and more predictable than this king.

The following morning, at the river port of Tog,

a variety of townsfolk had gathered at the dock.

And for good reason.

Ports were the 11th century version of cable news, and not just in that they were notoriously corrupt and obsessed with profits, also that they were one of the only ways for the public to learn how the government was responding to a crisis.

So, when the king disembarked from one of the approaching ships, it caused quite the stir.

Clergy and layfolk alike rushed to greet him, eager to learn what his next move would be.

This outpouring of joy, which stood in stark contrast to his public appearance at Whitsun, was like catnip for Rufus, and we're told that he was in high spirits as he answered their questions and soaked up all the atmosphere.

Then he ordered messengers to ride out and muster his army, and when it became clear that Rufus had crossed in such a hurry that he hadn't even brought his horse with him, a local priest offered the king his own.

And as he rode off towards Bonville-Sertoque, the assembled crowd cheered and ran alongside him, as if he were already a conquering hero.

And the king loved it.

Now, granted, a hero's welcome did also have its downsides, and chief among them was that everyone would now know that he was in Normandy, including Hellias and his allies.

But Rufus didn't really care about that.

He cared about speed.

Well, actually, judging from the accounts of his arrival, he cared about speed and adoration, but mostly speed.

And his men knew this.

Guimar reports that 1700 heavily armed soldiers quickly joined his personal retinue.

And he notes that these men were very well paid for this service.

And because this was Rufus, and he never saw a coin he didn't want to spend, they were immediately joined by 3,000 mercenaries.

Now, it is important to know that Guimar isn't a flawless source.

He definitely made errors in his account of this campaign.

For example, he said that Hugh de Montgomery was part of the king's retinue, but unless this army had zombies in it, he didn't.

And it's far more likely that Guimar was trying to relate that a huge number of influential figures had come to the king's aid, and in this effort, he conflated the 1098 and 1099 campaigns.

But while Guimar might be a bit soupy on the specifics, he's not wrong about the overall situation.

The records agree that the king had mustered a large army of veterans and mercenaries incredibly quickly.

And when news of it reached Le Mans, the rebels were spooked.

After all, they still hadn't brought down the garrison.

And the prospect of fighting an army outside the walls of Le Mans, while also maintaining a siege to keep the garrison within Le Mans trapped within their castle.

Well, you don't need to be a tactical genius to see how much of a problem that would be.

Especially since that Norman garrison had already set fire to a large part of the city, which would make defending it very difficult.

And so Hellius and his allies withdrew from the city.

With Orderic adding that they were, quote, leaving the city they had occupied in a condition much worse than they had found it, end quote.

And that is just a hell of a statement to make.

I mean, first of all, the people of Le Mans weren't an occupation force.

They literally lived there.

But beyond that, Orderk was one of the people who filled us in on how it was the Norman Castellan Walter Fitzanger, still a great name, who had deliberately set the city on fire.

So it's not like Orderk was unaware of who caused the damage to the city.

And yet, he went out of his way to tell us that actually, all of this was the fault of Hellias and the public.

And can you imagine how frustrating it would be to live under occupation and suffer indiscriminate violence at the hands of those occupiers and then have the media blame you for it?

I can.

Anyway, while Orderic was convinced that Hellias and his forces were the real enemy, the people of Le Mans disagreed.

So when Hellius left, almost all of the citizens of the city went with him.

Only Norman sympathizers and anyone who thought they could make peace with the Normans remained behind.

And among them was Bishop Hildebert of Le Mans.

Because Hildebert could see which way the wind was blowing, and apparently he had no interest in camping with Hellias and his forces.

And so he hoofed it straight to King Rufus.

And once there, he swore to the king that he had nothing to do with any of this.

He was just an innocent bystander.

And honestly, the king shouldn't worry too much about any of this anyway, because Hellias and his forces had already withdrawn from the city.

So, you know, all's well that ends well.

And upon hearing this, Rufus exploded into a rage.

Because this was far from good news.

Hellius was now in the field, rather than being trapped in a burned city with a garrison within his walls waiting for the right moment to sally forth.

This was a goddamn disaster.

So Rufus ordered his army to prepare to ride upon Le Mans immediately because maybe they could catch the Count on his retreat.

And when Rufus and his army arrived at Le Mans,

they found it burning.

Now, Orderic doesn't mention who did the burning.

He just lets his earlier statement carry the implication.

And burning a city rather than allowing an enemy to take possession of it is something that ruthless leaders have done repeatedly throughout history.

And Hellias was no stranger to matches.

So normally, I'd let this one slide and be all, yeah, Hellias probably burned it on the way out.

However, I think Orderic was deliberately vague here, because in this instance, I think it was probably the Normans who did it.

And I say that because Bishop Hildebert's biographer tells us that soon after the withdrawal of Hellias and his forces, the Norman garrison surged back into the city, and they took brutal revenge upon anyone who remained within that city.

And remember, those who stayed behind were mostly Norman sympathizers and fence-sitters.

But occupation forces rarely care about the personal politics of those under their boot.

So, at least according to this source, the reprisals were indiscriminate.

And it got bad.

So bad that the biographer then tells us that were it not for Rufus' arrival and the fact that he told his soldiers to chill out a bit, the entire city would have been destroyed.

Which, I think, answers the question of who lit those fires and whether those who stayed behind made the right call.

And Rufus, for his part, didn't bother to stay in Le Mans to make sure things calmed down.

He didn't even stop in the city.

He just rushed after Hellius.

And as the king marched, quote, he took severe revenge for his wrongs with fire and sword, end quote, which, again, puts the matches in the hands of the Normans, and in this case, in Rufus' hands.

There was, however, a wrinkle in the Red King's plan here.

Because as Hellias fled with his army, he was also setting things on fire.

He wanted to deny the invading Normans any chance for shelter or resupply.

And it's at this point in the record where Orderic suddenly comes off break and gets very detailed about this part of the burning, saying, quote, Before the king could reach the enemy's strongholds and give them to the flames, they set them on fire with their own hands and laid waste all the country round, lest the freebooters of the royal party should find anything to pillage, or even a house where they might make their beds and take repose.

Thus the castles of Vaux and Utilly were burned, and many other villages and hamlets entirely ruined.

However, Robert de Montfort, the commander of the royal army, pushing forward at the head of five hundred cavalry, extinguished the fire at the castle of Vaux, and strengthened the fortifications for the king's service.

End quote.

Now, setting aside Ordoric's tone of the absolute nerve of these people burning down their castles before the king could burn them, there's actually a strategic element here that was central to chivalric warfare and one that Ordoric appears to be missing entirely.

A major pillar of Norman warfare were castles, building them, holding them, and ideally capturing them.

You went into enemy territory, you seized a castle, and then that castle became your new hardpoint from which you would launch further attacks on the next castle.

And while you were doing that, you'd also loot and pillage the countryside in order to keep your troops happy, while also damaging the economy in the region in an effort to force the local nobles to surrender.

That was how they liked to fight, which meant that a good local commander would seek to prevent the Normans from acquiring any castles.

Which is why Hellius was engaging in scorched earth tactics, and also why Montfort and 500 Norman knights started acting like royal firefighters, but only for the castle of Vaux.

They apparently didn't bother putting out the fires in any of the villages or hamlets.

And instead, when it comes to them, we're hearing about Rufus' desire to gain revenge through fire and sword, and his frustration at being denied.

Likely, because those villages and hamlets were intended to be a source of income and food for his army.

And just in case you were starting to think that Hellias might be the hero in this story and not, you know, a standard 11th century noble, he eventually decided to retreat to Chateau de Loire, where he fortified it with his knights and settled in to wait and see how the rest of this campaign would go.

Presumably, the thought was, with a dearth of hard points and opportunities for resupply, the invading army would soon lose interest and grow hungry, and then, hopefully, return to their own lands.

And as for the common folk who were living in the areas that the Normans were marching around,

well, I'm sure God has a plan for them.

Basically, everyone making decisions here was awful.

And actually, Hellias' gamble failed, because despite the lack of plunder, the Red King kept pressing on.

And eventually he reached the castle of Mayette, which, unlike the previous castles, remained unburned.

Though it was also garrisoned, and for good reason.

This castle provided cover for the Count's other castles on the Loire.

And so if they lost this castle, it could turn the whole war.

And Rufus knew it, because he was in a hurry to seize this castle.

Unfortunately, they arrived too late in the day on Friday to launch an assault.

So the king ordered his army to rest up, and tomorrow morning, they'd begin the assault.

Then, on Saturday morning, as the soldiers were putting on their armor and getting ready to go to battle, Rufus once again came face to face with his nemesis.

No, not reading.

Religion.

As I mentioned in recent episodes, there was a cultural change that was happening in Europe, and Rufus, with all his chivalric bravado, was regularly coming into conflict with the growing religious zeal that was spreading virally across the West.

And among the new ideas that were catching on in this era was one called the Truce of God.

Now this was a new custom where all hostilities were halted every week from Wednesday night through Monday morning.

So if the knights wanted to be violent jerks, then they would need to keep it to Monday through Wednesday.

Those were your work days.

Unless one of those days was a feast day, then they'd have to take that day off as well.

Essentially, the church was taking the position that while they couldn't entirely stop the knights from being knights, they could at least regulate their violence to a minimum level.

Now, of course, there's a bunch of hypocrisy in here.

For example, it's not like the Crusaders were following the Truce of God, like, at all.

But nonetheless, trying to curtail chivalric violence was an unambiguous good thing.

At least, it was for most people.

For Rufus, though, it was a massive headache, because his commanders, at least the commanders who were feeling a bit pious, were now urging him to observe the truce of God.

And frankly, Rufus had pressed his luck with the church about as far as he dared at this point, so he had little choice but to relent.

The order was sent out Take off your armor and stand down.

There will be no murders until Monday morning.

And, presumably, the Norman camp then became a mix of solemn prayers by some and disappointed grumbling by others.

But within Mayette, this truce of God would have been experienced as a blessing from from God because it gave them time to fortify their castle.

They began breaking down any baskets or other wicker goods within their walls and refastened them into waddled barricades which would provide cover from arrows and thrown weapons.

They set up projectiles of their own, planning to rain hell down upon any approaching soldiers.

Rufus could only watch helpless as the garrison turned into a flurry of activity, and he knew that when Monday arrived, their job would be far more difficult and far more bloody than it would have been if they had had a Saturday morning assault as planned.

When Monday finally arrived, the assault began.

Well,

the prelude to the assault began.

You see, the trouble was that the castle was surrounded by this huge ditch.

So before the Normans could assault the walls, they would need somewhere to stand.

stand, and that meant the ditch needed to be filled in.

But the garrison weren't the only ones who had been busy during the truce.

Rufus had ordered his suddenly spiritual army to spend the whole weekend chopping wood in preparation for this moment.

And so his soldiers, likely dodging arrows and rocks from the walls above them, began chucking, quote, great heaps of wood, end quote, into the ditch.

However, it was late July, and it was a hot one.

And the garrison of Mayette knew exactly what to do with all of that dry wood that was piling up at the base of their castle.

So they waited, and they watched as the Norman soldiers, quote, through excessive toil, end quote, created large mounds of wood in the ditch.

And all the while, behind their defensive walls, the garrison were quietly heating up buckets of coal.

Now, right about now, you might be thinking, wait, coal?

Why not oil?

I heard boiling oil was used during sieges.

And you're right, in the popular imagination, boiling oil is regularly featured in siege warfare.

But oil was incredibly expensive.

If you had oil, you probably weren't going to waste it on the collection of Roberts and Williams that were gathered around around your castle.

Not when you had coal, tinder, and other things that would serve just as well.

And if you wanted to burn the people rather than the material, well, boiling water did that just fine.

And so, when the Normans looked close to completing their task, coals were dumped onto their heaps of wood, and the ditch immediately turned into a bonfire, driving the Normans back, injuring many, and reducing their platform to ashes.

Watching this, Rufus exploded into a fit of rage, as was his custom.

And someone on the walls either recognized him from his attire or from the way he threw a hissy fit and sent a stone flying from a turret.

And it barely missed the king, and instead, quote, crushed the head of a soldier who was standing near him, so that his brains were mingled with his fractured skull, end quote.

And the garrison on the walls burst into laughter and shouted down, There's fresh meat for the king.

Take it to the kitchen to be cooked for his supper.

Then, not long after, according to Wace, Robert of Bolem approached the king.

And he pointed out that that ditch needed to be filled in if they were going to reach the castle.

To which Rufus basically responded with, What do you think we've been trying to do here, Bob?

But we're a bit short on transport and supplies right now, so why don't you go seize all the horses and mules from each of our knights and then chuck everything you can get your hands on into the ditch?

Now, Wace says this was specifically said as a joke, and that Robert chuckled as he walked away from the king.

But once he was far enough away from Rufus, he stopped laughing and went full Robert of Balem.

He told the troops that the king had ordered that they must throw everything into the ditch.

Everything.

Even the peasants and the horses.

And quote, the look on his face and his words thoroughly alarmed everyone, end quote.

Because while the knights were accustomed to a shocking degree of violence, Bolem's orders, combined with the cruel look on his face, even freaked them right the hell out.

This guy was a psychopath.

And so large numbers of knights deserted right then and there, telling their comrades, quote, sons of whores, get away.

Get away.

You will all be dead if you dawdle at all.

If you can be captured here, you will all be thrown into the ditch, end quote.

And Rufus, who was probably still picking bits of brain out of his hair while hearing this, was shook.

So he summoned his council and asked for their advice on how to handle this situation.

But really, there was only one answer.

Withdraw.

So at daybreak, the royal army, what was left of it, lifted the siege and retreated.

But the king was mad.

Furious.

And so as they marched back to Le Mans,

they systematically and deliberately destroyed the countryside.

Vines were uprooted, fruit trees were cut down, walls and buildings were leveled, everything they could find in in this incredibly rich county was burned and destroyed.

Orderig tells us that then Rufus, quote, returned in triumph to Le Mans, end quote, and he paid off his army.

And I'm struggling to find the triumph in this campaign.

I suppose, perhaps, that the level of destruction inflicted on the public would require Hellias and his allies to regroup, and that might slow down their response.

But I'd hardly call that a triumph.

Nor do I think that Rufus, in his heart of hearts, thought it was either.

Because when he returned to Le Mans,

he was still mad, and he wanted someone to pay.

And Bishop Hildebert was right there.

You remember Hildebert, don't you?

He was the guy who had rushed to befriend Rufus by becoming an informant.

That Hildebert.

Well,

you'll never believe what happened next.

Rufus had him indicted.

Yep,

and the grounds of it were confused and flimsy and largely built upon insinuations from the king's political allies.

Among them was that the construction site of the church had a tower, and maybe some of Hellius' men used that tower at some point, so something, something traitor.

There's more, but when you dig into it, it really does seem like the main reason for this trial was that the king felt that Hildebert didn't like him enough.

And so, Rufus demanded a trial.

And specifically, he wanted a trial by hot iron.

And this was flatly illegal, by the way.

Ecclesiastical figures were considered exempt from the ordeal by hot iron.

Apparently, the church was all, ooh, that looks really painful.

So no thank you.

That's not for us.

That's only for the layfolk.

Which, when you think about it, is kind of crazy, since the whole idea behind that ordeal is that God will protect you if you're innocent.

So, the fact that they want an exemption really kind of gives the game away.

But anyway, Rufus didn't care that the church was exempt.

He wanted the trial.

Now, by this point, Hildebert had heard about how Bishop William of Durham had handled this king's malicious prosecutions in the past.

If you recall, the Bishop of Durham just simply didn't show up.

And so Hildebert decided to give that a try.

Unfortunately, he was in Le Mans,

and so was the king.

So that effort was about as successful as you'd imagine.

But Rufus, not wanting to get into a long, drawn-out legal battle like he had done with the Bishop of Durham, decided to offer Hildebert a choice.

He could destroy the tower in his church, or he could accompany the king to England.

You know, just for a visit.

And totally not because in England, Rufus would find it much easier to put the bishop on trial.

Totally not that at all.

Hildebert was out of options.

This king was mad, he was quite possibly crazy, and he had a ton of heavily armed men eager to do violence.

But at the same time, Hildebert refused to demolish the tower, probably because that would serve as an admission of guilt.

And so, despite his fear that he might be forced into a show trial, or even worse, into the ordeal by hot iron, Hildebert agreed to become the king's prisoner.

And part of the reason for Rufus' bold actions towards a bishop and Hildebert's relatively meek response could be that news would have trickled in from the east that something really big had happened.

Actually, several really big things had happened.

First, Robert Curthose and his fellow crusaders hadn't just found the Lance of Longanus, they had also seized Jerusalem.

And they had seized it really fast.

But that bit of news wouldn't have helped Rufus' situation with the bishop at all, since that victory definitely put the Deus Volt quotient through the roof.

But there was another bit of news that came right along with it.

Pope Urban II, the man responsible for the crusade, and the man who had only recently spent a year with Anselm,

had died.

And according to Edmer, when Rufus learned of Urban's death, he shouted, quote, God rot him who cares a damn for that, end quote, which is basically, who gives a fk?

But then Rufus realized that the truce that they had struck with Urban over the Anselm issue was due to expire, and now it would land in the lap of whoever the new pope was.

So he asked what sort of man this new pope was.

And he was told that the new guy, Pope Pascal II, was a bit like Anselm.

And I'm pretty sure that what followed was a tirade of expletives.

But Edmer, being a churchman, doesn't share them.

And instead, he says that the king said, quote, if so, by God's face, he's not worth much.

But in any case, he's out on his own now, for by this and that, this time I'm not going to be under his papacy.

I'm free again, and I'm going to do whatever I like.

⁇

The king's plan was just to refuse to acknowledge the new pope.

And considering that the schism was still ongoing, and that anti-Pope Clement was alive and well, he had a pretty good excuse for returning to the sidelines.

And if he didn't acknowledge Pope Pascal, then it would be a lot harder for the Pope to argue for excommunication, especially since that might just drive Rufus into the arms of Clement.

And so I suspect that is why Rufus felt so free to push around Bishop Hildebert and eventually take him prisoner.

Then, on the last week of September, the king set sail for England, likely with his former collaborator and current prisoner in tow.

And if Rufus had indeed traveled on the same ship as Hildebert, then he had quite an eventful trip.

Because according to Hildebert, midway through the crossing, when they were far from any port, a southern gale blew in.

Huge waves slammed into the ship, and this storm was so ferocious that the top deck of the ship was torn off, and according to Hildebert, the captain went completely pale, convinced that soon he would be nothing more than fish food.

But somehow he kept that ship from breaking up or or turning over, and eventually, they were driven ashore by the winds.

Shipwrecked, but alive.

Hildebert was traumatized, and he wrote all about it in his letters, even cautioning Anselm from crossing the channel at all.

And according to these letters, once they were in England, he and Rufus began to argue once again about demolishing that church tower that the king was obsessed with.

But all the while, Hildebert, cleverly, began to develop friends and allies within the English court.

And by Easter of 1100, he was able to assert enough pressure on the king that he was allowed to return to Le Mans, promising to look into whether or not the demolition of the tower was architecturally feasible.

Now, agreeing to destroy the tower would very likely cause Bishop Hildebert to lose his position, and it would certainly cause him to lose a lot of priests.

Apparently, 500 of them were already walking out on him just at the suggestion that he was looking into it.

But he was caught in an impossible situation between a tyrannical king who was obsessed with what he called humbling the church and his church community who had poured money and sweat into the creation of that tower.

Not to mention all the blood that had been spilled resisting these Normans.

So I don't know what Hildebert's long-term plan here here was, and unfortunately, he doesn't tell us.

But he was in a tight spot.

And if you're wondering why we're relying on things like Hildebert's letters for what was happening with Rufus during this period, it's because the chroniclers weren't all that interested in what the king was up to.

They barely take any notice of him for months.

I mean, we know that he held his Christmas court in Gloucester, and had his Easter court at Winchester, and his Whitsun Court of 1100 at Westminster.

But beyond that, the details are sparse.

Instead, the scribes tell us about things like how, on Whitsun, blood began to bubble out of the ground at Berkshire.

Which, you know, fair enough, I would also write about that.

That's crazy.

But one of the reasons why our sources are getting quiet during this period might be because news from the Crusade was still coming in.

And let's be honest, that conquest, as well as the apparent Berkshire hellmouth, were bigger stories than whatever feud of the day Rufus was embroiled in, or whatever priests he was hassling.

Because as you might imagine, the capture of Jerusalem was a huge event for the West.

This harebrained scheme had been a debacle right from the start, but then it suddenly succeeded.

Like out of nowhere.

It was shocking, and it had all of Christendom in awe at the clear, manifest power of God.

And I bet few were as shocked by this turn of events as Rufus, who had pretty clearly thought that this adventure would fail, and he definitely anticipated it would claim his brother's life.

But instead, these idiots succeeded.

which meant piety was the new black, and Rufus was instantly out of fashion.

Even worse, Robert, with his crusader status, was an overnight rock star in this new alien landscape of barefoot processions and long-form sermons.

And the crowning cherry on this?

Robert was headed back home to Normandy.

And that

was a problem because Rufus had no desire to give up Normandy.

He liked it here.

Luckily for Rufus, though, this surge in Deus Volt meant that there were already people who wanted to do a new crusade.

After all, if that first one worked, then it must be easy, right?

So overnight, swarms of people who had been either too afraid to go on the first crusade or were convinced it was going to be a miserable failure were now very interested in committing a bit of divine murder of their own.

And the new Pope Pascal II, looking to capitalize on this moment and cement his position as the real Pope, insisted that this was a great idea, particularly for the men who had taken up the first crusade, but then, you know, got buyer's remorse and either stayed home or turned back once things started to get a bit dodgy.

Because now they had proof that while camping sucks and folks definitely did starve in large numbers during the first one, well, now that they had the lance of longiness, they had God's protection, so nothing bad would ever happen to them again.

Ever.

So nobles were already laying the foundation for a new crusade.

And I'm not sure if they had a name for it yet, but history would remember this as the Crusade of the Fainth-Hearted.

Devastating.

Anyway, One of the people organizing this next crusade was William the Troubadour, who was the Count of Poitiers and the Duke of Aquitaine and Gascony.

And William the Troubadour had a lot of lands and titles, but as his nickname implies, he was more of a lover than a fighter, earning fame not through his deeds on the battlefield, but through his lyrical stylings and relentless womanizing.

And as any smart bard would do, when the first crusade happened, he stayed home and used his poetry to woo the poor, lonely ladies who were left behind.

However, now that Bobby Shortpants had proven that going on crusade was easy, well, getting some of that crusader glory would certainly be a feather in his cap.

And given his womanizing reputation, he probably could have used some of that blanket forgiveness as well.

So William set about preparing to go on this new crusade for the clothy classes.

There was one problem, though.

He needed money.

Because he wasn't William the Mountain mountain man.

He was William the Troubadour and he wanted to travel in quote great splendor end quote and that required cash.

Luckily, he had a solution for that.

Robert Curthose had raised funds for his crusade by mortgaging Normandy to King Rufus of England.

So why not just copy-paste that plan?

So he sent envoys to the Red King's court, essentially suggesting that Rufus pay him a huge sum of money in exchange for the right to govern Aquitaine while he was on crusade.

And then, once William was done, he would come back all glorious and sexy and regain his lands and titles, just like Robert Curthose was about to do.

And Rufus was all, you want the same deal that I'm giving Robert?

Where do I sign?

And Orderk, naturally, is delightfully catty about this exchange, saying, quote, the proud monarch, who the more he had, the more he coveted, like the thirst of the dropsical man, received the envoy's proposals with great satisfaction and longed to add the Duke's ample possessions to the ancient dominions belonging to his father's duchy and kingdom.

End quote.

Basically, the guy was super greedy.

Now, if Rufus was a rational man, he might have avoided this deal.

Because the agreed-upon lands weren't directly connected to Normandy.

Instead, he would have to go go through Normandy and then through Maine and then through Anjou before finally reaching his new rental.

And that was likely to make Count Fulk the Quarreller of Anjou

quarrelsome.

But Rufus didn't appear to be bothered, because Orderic says that the king immediately set about making preparations.

Naturally, he would need to tax his dominions to the brink in order to pay for this mortgage, and that would take time.

We're not given details on how he was going about that, but I'm pretty sure Ranolph Lambard was central to those efforts.

But Rufus was only beginning.

We're told he also sent out orders for a great fleet to be assembled, and a large force of English soldiers were to be readied and prepared to cross into Normandy.

Because Robert wasn't getting Normandy back.

Victorious crusader or not, all Robert would find in Normandy was war.

war.

And with the forces of Normandy, England, and hopefully Aquitaine at the Red King's command, there was only one way this could possibly end.

However, there is a wrinkle.

Some modern scholars question whether Rufus really did intend to fight his brother.

And they point out that Rufus hadn't exactly been doing great in the field lately, and that his support was getting a bit thin.

They also point out that given Robert's recent military successes, Rufus was playing a very dangerous game here and one that could even result in the loss of England.

They also point out that we don't have any records of Rufus building up baronial support in 1100 like he had been doing in previous years.

And going to war with Robert without the full support of the barons was super risky.

And I'll add to this list that Orderic and Malmsbury are our main sources for this, and they have both been caught twisting details to fit a narrative.

They also just get things wrong sometimes.

For example, it's doubtful that William the Troubadour actually did offer to mortgage all of Aquitaine.

It's far more likely that Orderic was exaggerating and the deal was actually just for Poitou.

But, that being said, I don't think Orderic was necessarily wrong about Rufus' plans here.

And honestly, I don't think that the strategic risks of a civil war in Normandy prove that he wasn't going to do it.

After all, this was Rufus.

This was a man who was extraordinarily rash and prone to picking fights with people bigger than him, even back when he was under the influence of Landfrank, and he had definitely gotten worse since Landfrank had died.

I'll also point out that Rufus had a long history of getting his ass kicked by the Welsh, but that didn't stop him at all from launching repeated campaigns into Wales.

Finally, I don't know how you can look at his behavior, going all the way back to that fever that nearly killed him, and say, this is a rational man who made decisions based on logic.

Rufus was a guy who would get mad and chop off dicks.

In court.

And critically, I think this next part is very important.

He had always hated Robert.

So while I agree that war with Robert was a terrible idea, I also think it was exactly the kind of terrible idea that Rufus would have.

Especially since he already had England, which was ready to provide troops, not to mention funds for the hiring of mercenaries.

He was probably also anticipating that he'd have the support of most of Normandy.

And then on top of that, he was planning on paying a fortune to acquire lands from William the Troubadour, all in an effort to further bolster his forces.

And using those forces to try and keep Normandy out of the hands of his hated brother seems entirely on brand to me.

But speaking of Robert Curthose, you might recall that one of the complaints that some of the churchmen had about short pants was that he lived like a Norman knight when he was younger.

Meaning he was riding around attending tournaments and hooking up with lots of women.

And we're told that one of these women had been a paramour of sorts.

And she had been with Robert long enough to have at least two of his sons.

They were named William and Richard.

We're not given details on how they got their names, but I wouldn't be surprised if William was named after Robert's father and Richard was named after Robert's older brother, the one who had died while hunting in the new forest.

Well, Robert eventually moved on and this unnamed woman went on to raise her boys.

But when they got older, she brought them to Robert and told them that they were his.

And like a guest on Maury, Robert was all, no way, she's lying.

But the boy's mother was insistent.

And when it was proposed that she undergo the ordeal of iron to prove it, she fing did it.

Not only that, but according to Orderk, she succeeded.

Now, after a showing like that, Robert didn't have a choice.

God himself had just declared that those kids were his.

Which meant that Robert had something that Rufus didn't.

Sons.

Though, a crusade is no place for kids, and so lately Richard had been staying at Rufus' court.

And Orderic points out that Richard was actually quite a promising knight with a bright future.

He even hints at Richard's good dynastic fortune, which was all but saying this guy was due to inherit from Robert Curthose.

Anyway, so during Rogation Tide of 1100, meaning meaning sometime in May of 1100, with Robert Curthose soon to return to Normandy as a triumphant crusader, and Rufus facing off with either the loss of the duchy or a civil war to retain it, well, right in the middle of all of that, Richard, Robert's acknowledged son, along with a bunch of quote knights of the king's court, end quote, went hunting in,

you guessed it, the New Forest.

And the young promising Richard was soon shot dead by a royal knight.

Whoops.

Now, the knight who did it fled as fast as his horse could carry him to St.

Pancras in Lewis, where he took the vows and became a monk, which, Orderic said, relieved him of any guilt for the killing while also providing him safety from Richard's family and friends.

That family, of course, included King Rufus,

who had spent most of of his life making it very clear that he didn't care all that much about what the church thought or said.

And considering the number of times that the king's men had gone into churches and monasteries for the express purpose of either stealing stuff from the church or outright arresting people, including members of the clergy like poor old Chenred, who was subsequently blinded and had his tongue cut out, well, you can only imagine what King Rufus was going to do to his nephew's killer, right?

Yep,

he did nothing.

Absolutely nothing at all.

He basically took the position of, wow, I guess he got me.

I guess I just have to let you live in peace now, don't I?

Which is weird.

I mean, accidents happen, but they sure do seem to happen around some people more than others.

And this family was part of that some people.

And while discussing this, Orderic made an odd comment about Richard that I'm just going to to read verbatim.

Quote, Many persons had predicted extraordinary good fortune to the night referred to, but men, when the God of Sabbath orders otherwise, are frequently deceived and deceive others.

For clouded by the darkness of ignorance, the thoughts of man are vain, end quote.

And that's an odd thing to write.

I mean, what deception are we talking about?

Are we just saying it was terrible luck?

Or are we saying that Richard was among those who were deceived?

Because I could definitely see a world in which a royal knight was encouraged to prune the ducal family tree, so to speak, and that could explain Orderic's focus on deception, as well as the king's baffling decision to suddenly respect religious authority for pretty much the first time in his life.

Either way, this event is weird, and it provides an eerie backdrop for the absolute absolute disaster that was looming on the horizon.

Because Rufus' planned expedition and wars, and you know, take your pick of potential wars, Robert, Hellias, Falk, even the King of France, this guy had a lot of balls in the air.

Well, whichever war they were getting into first,

none of it was going to be good news for the ruling class.

And it was downright terrible news for the commoners.

And while all of this was going on, Anselm had been keeping himself himself quite busy.

As a guest of the Archbishop of Lyon, he had easy access to a major pillar of episcopal power, and he decided to take advantage of that, pleading his case relentlessly until finally the Archbishop sent a letter to Rufus, urging the king to reinstate Anselm, to this job that Anselm kept saying he didn't want.

But he kept asking for it anyway.

And we know that the Archbishop sent this letter, because pretty soon thereafter, Anselm wrote a letter of his own to the new pope, wherein he complained about Rufus' response.

We don't have a copy of it, but it sounds like it wasn't very courteous.

Either way, though, it was pretty clear that, other than free room and board, Anselm wasn't getting much out of his visit to Lyon at the moment.

So he decided to pay a visit to another ecclesiastical heavyweight.

Abbot Hugh of Cluny.

And according to Edmer, the three of them were hanging out on July 31st, and naturally, quote, certain things passed to and fro in conversation, as usually happens, about the proceedings between Anselm and the king, end quote.

When suddenly, quote, the venerable abbot interjected, as a matter of assured truth, that during the previous night the king had been accused before the throne of God, judged, and had sentence of damnation passed upon him, end quote.

Edmer then adds that Hugh's words words didn't startle Anselm at all, and instead, he was content to trust him on faith.

And he tells us that actually, many people had been prophecying Rufus' death lately.

So basically, it sounds like Anselm was once again airing his list of grievances, and Abbot Hugh, like apparently many people, was all, dude, enough.

He's going to hell.

Are you happy?

And yes, Anselm was happy.

Meanwhile, back in England, things were getting weirder.

Rufus was amassing an enormous amount of treasure as he prepared to cross over to the continent, but over the month of July, so at the exact same time that the Abbot of Cluny was all, oh, he going to hell, Orderick reports that men of the cloth all over England were spontaneously having visions of the king's impending death.

Which was as spooky then as it is now.

For example, in one of these visions, Rufus seized a crucifix and gnawed at the arms of Christ, only to have the figure of Christ come to life and kick his ass.

And then, when Rufus hit the ground, flame and smoke poured out of his mouth.

And these visions became so common that apparently they were even getting reported to Rufus himself, who actually thought it was a hilarious attempt at fundraising through spiritual extortion.

And you know, in his defense, the church did have a history of doing exactly that to him.

But even so, the writings of Orderk, Malmsbury, and others are filled with all kinds of spooky dreams that people reportedly were having during the month of July 1100.

Malmsbury even claims that Rufus had one of his own, and it seems that he took this as proof positive that he really needed that vacation.

The stress was obviously getting to him.

And with the upcoming war with Duke Robert of Normandy, the collection of yet another massive tax on England, the administration of probably Poitou, and a likely war with Maine on the frontier, well, it really was now or never.

So he decided to go on holiday, and he knew just the place to go.

The new forest.

And you might be thinking, really?

The same place where now two of his family members had died?

And yeah, really.

It was a good hunting spot.

And besides, if the sea couldn't kill a king, then a bunch of trees weren't going to be able to pull it off.

So the king and his companions rode for the new forest, with the king eager to finally enjoy a bit of hunting, and probably crossing his fingers that Helias wouldn't once again interrupt his vacation with another insurrection.

And on the morning of August 2nd of 1100, they were finally back at Brockenhurst.

staying at one of the king's hunting lodges.

And we don't know the exact list of companions joining Rufus on this trip, because for some reason the scribes suddenly get real vague on that detail.

But we do know that he was joined by his brother, Henry, as well as Robert Fitzhaimo, William de Poituy, and of course, Walter Tyrell.

And you might recall that Walter was one of the Castellans who had switched sides and sworn fealty to Rufus during his war with the King of France.

And Rufus would definitely need his support in this upcoming campaign, so his presence presence on the hunt makes perfect sense.

This was an ally that needed to be wooed.

And so, if Rufus didn't invite him, I'm sure that Henry, his much more clever younger brother, definitely would have.

And besides, there was another reason to bring Walter, because in addition to being rather free with his oaths, this Castellan was also apparently one hell of a shot.

Possibly one of the best marksmen in the realm.

Let's begin though.

Anyway, so the king was finishing having a bite to eat before going hunting.

He was laughing and joking with the fellas while putting on his boots, when a smith approached him and offered the king six arrows.

Rufus looked at them and he was impressed at how well made they were.

Praising the smith, he decided to keep four of the arrows for himself and, treating Walter Tyrell as an honored guest, he gave two of them to the castellan, saying,

It is only right that the sharpest arrows should be given to the man man who knows how to shoot the deadliest shots.

Then, he finished putting on his boots, mounted his horse, and galloped off into the forest at full speed, with Henry, Bretuis, and quote, other distinguished persons, end quote, racing after him.

This felt good.

For the first time in a long time, William Rufus was in his element.

No court, no diplomacy, no dusty priests writing need letters that he couldn't understand.

Just him, his bow, and a forest full of game that his servants would drive towards him.

Because, you know, why sit in a blind for days on end when you can just have some squire make it easy for you?

And even better, today he was joined by one of of the best marksmen in the land.

Bringing Terrell was such a kick-ass idea.

And once they were done with this hunt, they could cross the channel, hire a bunch of mercs, and get back to the fight.

Because Rufus had scores to settle.

But that was for another day.

Today was for the hunt.

And as they reached the designated hunting spot, The king and his companions spread out to wait for the game to be driven in.

And there, breathing the summer air, he waited.

I can't imagine anything Rufus would have enjoyed more than this.

This was where he was at his best, where circumstances demanded that he quiet his mind and his body, and become attuned to his surroundings.

Bow in hand, watching for prey, hearing every beat of his heart, every rustled leave as the breeze drifted through the forest.

Here, there was no opportunity for interpersonal conflict, no need to engage in diplomacy or to use his words.

It was just him and the forest.

And like a whole bunch of other dudes as well, they really were all over the place, but whatever.

That's just the life of a king, baby.

You're popular.

And he was so pleased, he almost didn't catch it.

That motion out of the corner.

Six Emperor Tyrannus