Henry "of Almain" Plantagenet

Notes:

Richard was very wealthy and used it to be elected Holy Roman Emperor. His reign was not of any substance-pretty much symbolic. Late in life he gave up hope of ever actually ruling.

Richard married Isabel Marshal on 30 Mar 1231 in St Mary's Church, Fawley, Buckinghamshire, England. Isabel (daughter of 1st Earl of Pembroke William Marshal and Isabel FitzGilbert de Clare) was born on 9 Oct 1200 in Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales; died on 17 Jan 1240 in Birkhampstead, Hertfordshire, England; was buried in Beaulieu, New Forest District, Hampshire, England. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Notes:

Reigned 1199-1216. Signed Magna Carta in 1215 at Runnymede.

His reign saw renewal of war with Phillip II Augustus of France to whom he has lost several continental possessions including Normandy by 1205. He came into conflict with his Barons and was forced to Sign the Magna Carta. His later repudiation of the charter led to the first barons war 1215-17 during which John died. Burke says he was born in 1160.

King of Ireland 1177, Count of Mortain 1189, Earl of Gloucester.

Matthew Paris wrote, 'Foul as it is, hell itself is defiled by the presence of King John', and this pretty well sums up John's reputation--until 1944, that is. For in that year Professor Galbraith demonstrated in a lecture to an astonished world that the chief chronicle source for the reign of John was utterly unreliable. Since then bad King John has been getting better and better, until now he is nearly well again, and a leading scholar in the field has seriously warned us that the twentieth century could well create it own John myth.

A man who can create so many myths, or rather have them created about him, is clearly outstanding in some way, but the myths hide the truth. Plainly the chroniclers who invented stories about him after his death can tell us little, and we should not take too much notice of people who condemned John for carrying out his father's (and his brother's officials') policies and administrative routines, nor indeed those who condemned him because of the bitter troubles that happened in the succeeding reign, troubles which were in no means entirely of John's making. Recent historians have turned to the administrative records of his reign, and found there a very different picture; but still the lingering doubts remain--were these records the result of John's skill and application or of those of his able staff?

John was a paunchy little man, five feet five inches tall, with erect head, staring eyes, flaring nostrils and thick lips set in a cruel pout, as his splendid monument at Worcester shows. He had the tempestuous nature of all his family, and a driving demoniac energy: Professor Barlow says that 'he prowled around his kingdom, ' which is an evocative phrase, but it would be truer to say that he raced around it. He was fastidious about his person--taking more baths than several other medieval kings put together, and owning the ultimate in luxury, for that time, a dressing-gown. He loved good food and drink, and gambled a great deal, though he usually lost--the results of his typical impatience and carelessness are recorded on his expense rolls; above all things he loved women. Some say his 'elopement' was the cause of his loss of Normandy. He was generous to the poor (for instance, he remitted to them the penalties of the forest law), and to his servants; at the least he went through the motions of being a Christian king. He was extortionate, though if one considers the terrific increase in his outgoings (a mercenary soldier cost him 200 per cent more in wages than he would have in Henry II's day) one can understand some of his actions in the field. He was deeply concerned about justice, took care to attend to court business, and listened to supplicants with sympathy; he had also an urgent desire for peace in the land, saying that his peace was to be observed 'even if we have granted it to a dog.' But for all that, he had two totally unredeeming vices; he was suspicious, and enjoyed a cloak-and-dagger atmosphere--simply he did not inspire trust in his subjects. Dr. Warren says of him with some justice that if he had lived in the twentieth century he would have adored to run a secret police.

He was born at Oxford on Christmas Eve 1167. He was oblated for a monk at the abbey of Fontevrault at the age of one year, but was back at court by the time he was six--plainly he had no vocation, but he probably picked up at this early stage his fastidiousness and his passion for books: his library followed him wherever he went. He was his father's favorite, but he turned against the old man when his chance came, as he did against Richard (who had been very generous to his brother) when the latter was in captivity in 1193. The episode was a miserable failure, but it possibly sowed the seeds of distrust for John in England, where they began to sprout luxuriantly in 1199 when Richard died and John came to the throne.

Immediately the challenge came: Philip Augustus, the wily King of France, was backing John's nephew, Prince Arthur of Brittany (son of John's elder brother Geoffrey) as a contender for the throne, and England's French possessions fell prey to civil war. John found grave difficultly in dealing with the situation for a number of reasons, but in 1202 he made the remarkable coup of capturing Arthur by force-marching his troops eighty miles in forty-eight hours; but then his prosecution of the war became listless, and he lost much sympathy by his brutal murder of Arthur whilst in a drunken rage. By 1204 Normandy was lost.

The loss of Normandy seemed to wake John up, and he now deployed his every energy in building up the coastal defenses of Britain, now faced with an enemy the other side of the Channel, instead of just more of her own territory. The navy was built up, and the army, and John poured a quarter of his annual revenue into defense. But he could not persuade the baronage to support him in a counterstroke to regain Normandy: the barons of the north country had never owned land in Normandy and did not see why they should pay to regain southerner's castles for them. These 'Northerners' as they called themselves, were a hive of discontent, and more was to be heard from them. Meanwhile, John sailed angrily about in the Channel, cursing ineffectually.

Other troubles were to come first, however. In 1205 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Hubert Walker, died, and John assumed that he would have the choice of the new archbishop. However, Pope Innocent III was no man to support secular control over church appointments, and supported the right of the monks of Canterbury to select their own archbishop. For two years the storms blew between England and Rome, then Stephen Langton was appointed. Meanwhile John had driven the monks into exile and appropriated the revenues of the archdiocese. He had fallen out also with his half-brother, Geoffrey Archbishop or York, over tax-collection, and he too fled abroad while John collected his revenues. Four bishops joined in his fight--tension was growing to the snapping point. In 1208 the Pope put an Interdict on England, which in effect meant the clergy went on strike, or, in certain cases and areas, worked to rule. John began negotiations with Innocent, but, finding that he demanded unconditional surrender, stopped them and took over all ecclesiastical properties and incomes. He did leave the clergy sufficient to live, though barely; but he still gained a large increment to his usual finances. In November 1209 the Pope took the final step of excommunicating the King, which, in that it made him an outlaw in Christendom, did far more damage than the Interdict.

John used his enlarged treasury to restore order in Scotland, Ireland and Wales, and to rebuild the old alliance with Otto IV of Germany and the Count of Flanders against Philip Augustus. He planned a two-pronged attack on France, to take place in 1212. But that year turned out an unlucky one for John, for the barons again refused to serve abroad, and the army he had was needed to put down a revolt in Wales; the Pope was threatening to demote him, and Philip Augustus was planning a massive invasion of England. John had to give in in one direction, for the pressure was much too great: he chose the Pope, and wisely so. He agreed to return to the status quo in the matter of church property and establishment, and to pay compensation; he further resigned his kingdom into the hands of the Pope, to receive it back in return for his homage and an annual tribute of 1,000 marks (a mark being two-thirds of a pound].

He had won a notable ally in Innocent III, who supported him faithfully throughout his troubles. Then his fleet, his own creation, had the good luck to find the French fleet at anchor and unprotected, destroyed it, and so made a French invasion impossible. On the crest of a wave, John determined to put his two-pronged invasion plan into action, but once more the northern barons refused to play, and he set off to punish them. Stephen Langton had arrived on the scene by now and managed to persuade John not to provoke the barons further.

In 1214 he finally managed to put his long cherished plan into action, but the two attacks were not properly coordinated; Otto was defeated at Bovines, and John was deserted by his Protein knights.

In 1215 John faced a baronage in turmoil: they could point to the failure of his expensive schemes, he ascribed his failure to their total lack of support. The situation could not be more tense. John's nervousness can be seen in his taking of the cross, a blatant attempt to reinforce his alliance with the papacy. In April the Northerners met at Stamford; they were by now a mixture of northerners and southerners--the name was now merely a nickname--but by and large they were the younger element in the kingdom, roughnecks out for a spree. They moved south and were let into London by a faction, and received the expected encouragement from Philip Augustus in the form of siege engines brought over by one Eustace, a renegade monk turned pirate.

John offered arbitration, but the barons turned it down, and while he put his faith in an appeal to Rome, Stephen Langton, in cooperation with William Marshal and other more stable and sensible barons, were working on the Northerners' demands to incorporate them into a general charter, which would not only govern feudal relationships, but would also lay down a more general pattern of legality in government. On 15 June John fixed his seal to the draft of Magna Carat, and on 19 June attested copies were sent to all parts of the kingdom.

The King did his part thoroughly, though for how long he would have continued is another matter, but the barons continued to distrust him. They remained in arms, organizing tournaments as their excuse, saying that the prize would be 'a bear a certain lady would send.' This was civil war, and John took to it with a fiendish glee. He reduced the north and the east, and was about to mop up the remainder of the opposition in London when Philip Augustus' son Louis landed in force to help the barons (May 1216). John had been riding hard for months, and was sick with dysentery after a bout of over-eating; whilst crossing the Wash, the whole of his baggage-train was lost. At Newark Castle on 18 October, he died, desiring to be buried near his patron saint Wolfsan in Worcester Cathedral.

He was by no means a good man, and his energies could well have been put to a better use, but in a different situation he might well have made a great king. His constant failure was discipline, over himself first, and others second. John reminds me of nothing so much as the type of person who is brilliant in many ways, and has many gifts, but leaves after two terms 'not suited to teaching in this type of school.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes and Noble Books, New York, 1995]

John married Countess of Angoulême Isabella Taillefer on 24 Aug 1200 in Bordeaux, Gironde, France. Isabella (daughter of Count of Angoulême Aymer Taillefer and Alix Courtenay) was born in 1188 in Angoumé, Landes, Aquitaine, France; died on 31 May 1246 in Fontevrault Abbey, Anjou, France; was buried in Fontevrault Abbey, Anjou, France. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Notes:

Marshal of England
Protector of the Realm
Regent of the Kingdom

The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of a middling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly they consisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royal household, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking after the stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their military service, and checking the accounts of various household and state departments.

From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by his squire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and most fascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries.

His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindly describes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man who loved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. At first he supported Stephen but, when he began to realize the failings of the King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides. Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery and hardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in his castle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerously slowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her to ride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. His force was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John took refuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptly set fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in the tower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move to surrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the two soldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convinced that they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant, to John's castle.

He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as an incident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. King Stephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John to defend; the castellan, realizing that provisions and the garrison were both too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform his master. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at once relieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let his master down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, so he asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed his mistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not to provision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did, and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if he did not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he had hammer and anvils to forge a better child than William.

The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephen relented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though his officers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over the castle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grew attached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementary form of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servant of his mother, the lady Sibile (sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peeping in to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and the servant had to run for his life. The child did not know what danger she was running, but it was good and early training for his future career.

When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of his father's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeship in knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn by experience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honor that went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to go round the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils. He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliest tournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to take the plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of the dangerous folly of such quixotic behavior---a good war-horse captured from an unseated opponent could fetch 40 pounds. Even so, his heart was really set upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced as a youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutral territory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knights outside commenting on how well he was fighting.

He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he could not live off honor; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in 1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and military tutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, already crowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitless attempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make the young King a knight.

Henry seems to have had a good sense of humor, for in 1176 when the two were cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to bag another knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. A low-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry kept what he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William when they got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom.

Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast could attend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained a record number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to a nineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In ten months William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights, and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those days was having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his head on an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Another memory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing with the ladies who had come to watch---in full amour!

Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumors that he was the lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not fail to mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediately inundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage his services---three times he was offered 500 pounds a year or more, but he turned them down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne.

He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it was only to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that he would carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried his master, he carried out his promise.

He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of the King, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought him the Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales and Ireland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when he was covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into Prince Richard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By the legs of God, Marshal, do not kill me, ' and William killed his horse instead.

Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showed the Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade he made William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to help William de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellent training in administration and justice, which was to stand William in good stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater than those with which a simple soldier can deal.

It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficult Prince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended to leave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidate his position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard had been captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiff ransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added to his normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check and raising a vast sum of money.

Richard returned to find William a wise counselor now as well as an incomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, and William worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John. This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known.

For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to the Marshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to be done about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the order of the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he had only this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are like torches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.'

Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy, William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find a formula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France. What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearing that William was going over to the French side, confiscated all his castles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages.

So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vast estates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in an area in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made was countered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced. However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despite the royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made.

Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whom John regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again. Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer to fight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up the challenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favor with the King.

But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn where his true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into support for the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope, and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles in order in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating force was Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to be associated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John to accede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate.

In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royal forces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his French troops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badly misjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years of suspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle of Dunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he had forgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar that William was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without a secret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given.

Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemy hands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realized the worth of the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit the kingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death.

William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and the position seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John of Earley, his squire, pointed out what honor there was to be won, and changed his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart that if all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do?; I would carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle, from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced to beg my bread.'

Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided the rich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house 'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. He sent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, tempting them to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisive blow, at Lincoln in May 1217.

There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester who found a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many a shout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mare-chal!' Finally they reached the open space in front of the cathedral where William personally captured the French commander and received three massive blows which left dents in his helmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long for the King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war was almost won.

The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcements coming from France, and then set about making peace. He was generous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there was no victimization, and little recrimination. The speediest route back to peace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civil war.

This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period of reconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom and worry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the old man. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides were satisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion. Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses of war, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had to ban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions being taken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---the greatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better than anything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions and trying desperately to balance the budget.

He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he was taken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went but could do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights and retainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up river to his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and his household went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, the papal legate, and the highest officers of state.

He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he should follow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. He worried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-one who could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. He made his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for his young son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he could make his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered an unmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care of her.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries, crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he had thoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, and gave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral.

He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of the order came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are going to kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all the arrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and wait comfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of them was worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not giveback everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken 500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if he were damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are too hard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that all the rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have not the heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice. Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. This will be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religious man---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty.

In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said to John of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when John urged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him it would do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. So they called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly, overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice and sing with grace.

On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all the doors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There was such a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve the Marshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except by the dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and then died with his eyes fixed upon the cross.

The corte moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, and there William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over the grave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. You will all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror, you and I. Let each man say his paternoster that God may receive this Christian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as he so well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes and Noble Books, New York, 1995]

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William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal to the king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebellious son of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidential friend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of the Clares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in which rank he bore the royal scepter of gold, surmounted by the cross, at the coronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king's purposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants to Hugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice of England, in the government of the realm.

Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king's house, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronation of King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke, being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In the first year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff of Gloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued for several years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four years afterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province of Leinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees.

Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembroke was deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertain the grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise of King John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint a day for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian, by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance. He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving a victory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, and investing that great city, both by land and water, reduced it to extremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded, it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office of sheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford.

This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in the council and valor in the field, than by his piety and his attachment to the church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ample testimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s. each other in his lands and honors, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan, Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldest son, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke]

William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earl of Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, having then a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219, having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard, Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembroke and Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245, the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster was divided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland]

See also: http://www.castlewales.com/marshall.html
and http://www.castlewales.com/mar_chld.html

William married Isabel FitzGilbert de Clare in Aug 1189 in London, Middlesex, England. Isabel (daughter of 2nd Earl of Pembroke Richard FitzGilbert "Strongbow" de Clare and Eve (Aoife) MacMurrough) was born about 1172 in Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales; died in 1220 in Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales; was buried in Tintern Abbey, Chapel Hill, Monmouthsire, England. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Notes:

Reigned 1154-1189. He ruled an empire that stretched from the Tweed to the Pyrenees. In spite of frequent hostilities with the French King his own family and rebellious Barons (culminating in the great revolt of 1173-74) and his quarrel with Thomas Becket, Henry maintained control over his possessions until shortly before his death. His judicial and administrative reforms which increased Royal control and influence at the expense of the Barons were of great constitutional importance. Introduced trial by Jury. Duke of Normandy.

Henry II was born at Le Mans in 1133. He was the eldest son of the Empress Matilda, daughter of Henry I, by her second marriage to Geoffrey the Fair of Anjou. His parents' marriage was tempestuous, and both parties were glad when politics brought a separation, with Matilda going to England to fight King Stephen, and Geoffrey of Normandy to win a heritage for young Henry.

He first came to England at the age of nine when his mother made her dramatic escape from Oxford where she was besieged by Stephen, across the ice and snow, dressed all in white, to welcome him at Wallingford. His next visit, when he was fourteen, showed his character: he recruited a small army of mercenaries to cross over and fight Stephen in England, but failed so miserably in the execution of his plans that he ended up borrowing money from Stephen to get back home. A third expedition, two years later, was almost as great a failure. Henry was not a soldier, his were skills of administration and diplomacy; warfare bored and sometimes frightened him. For the meanwhile he now concentrated on Normandy, of which his father had made him joint ruler. In 1151, the year of his father's death, he went to Paris to do homage to Louis VII for his duchy. There he met Queen Eleanor, and she fell in love with him.

Henry was by no means averse. To steal a king's wife does a great deal for the ego of a young duke; he was as lusty as she, and late in their lives he was still ardently wenching with 'the fair Rosamund' Clifford, and less salubrious girls with names like 'Bellebelle'; finally, she would bring with her the rich Duchy of Aquitaine, which she held in her own right. With this territory added to those he hoped to inherit and win, his boundaries would be Scotland in the north, and the Pyrenees in the south.

Henry was, apart from his prospects, a 'catch' for any woman. He was intelligent, had learned Latin and could read and possibly write; immensely strong and vigorous, a sportsman and hard rider who loved travel; emotional and passionate, prone to tears and incredible rages; carelessly but richly dressed, worried enough in later life to conceal his baldness by careful arrangement of his hair, and very concerned not to grow fat.

But now he was in the prime of youth, and in 1153, when he landed with a large force in Bristol, the world was ready to be won. He quickly gained control of the West Country and moved up to Wallingford for a crucial battle with Stephen. This was avoided, however, because in the preparations for the battle Henry fell from his horse three times, a bad omen. Henry himself was not superstitious -- he was the reverse, a cheerful blasphemer -- but he disliked battles and when his anxious advisers urged him to heed the omen, he willingly agreed to parley privately with Stephen. The conference was a strange occasion: there were only two of them there, at the narrowest point of the Thames, with Henry on one bank and Stephen on the other. None the less, they seem to have come to an agreement to take negotiations further.

That summer Stephen's son died mysteriously, and Eleanor bore Henry an heir (about the same time as an English whore Hikenai produced his faithful bastard Geoffrey). The omens clearly showed what was soon confirmed between the two -- that when Stephen died, Henry should rule in his place. A year later Stephen did die, and in December 1154, Henry and Eleanor were crowned in London.

Henry was only 21, but he soon showed his worth, destroying unlicensed castles, and dispersing the foreign mercenaries. He gave even-handed justice, showing himself firm, but not unduly harsh. A country racked by civil war sighed with relief. Only two major difficulties appeared: first Henry's failure in his two Welsh campaigns in 1157 and 1165, when guerilla tactics utterly defeated and on the first occasion nearly killed him; second was the reversal of his friendship for Becket when he changed from being Chancellor to Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162.

The quarrel with Becket was linked with the King's determination to continue his grandfather's reform of the administration of justice in the country. He was anxious for a uniform pattern, operated by royal justices, to control the corrupt, ill-administered and unequal local systems operated by barons and churchmen. At Clarendon in 1166 and Northampton in 1176, he got his council's agreement to a series of measures which established circuits of royal justices dealing with the widest range of criminal activities. The method of operation was novel, too, relying on a sworn jury of inquest of twelve men. Though not like a modern jury, in that they were witnesses rather than assessors, the assize juries were the ancestors of the modern English legal system.

Henry traveled constantly, and much of the time in his Continental territories, for there were constant rebellions to deal with, usually inspired or encouraged by Louis of France. Henry was determined to keep the integrity of his empire, and to pass it on as a unity. To do this was no small task, but in 1169 Henry held a conference with the King of France which he hoped would achieve his objectives: he himself again did homage for Normandy, his eldest son Henry did homage for Anjou, Maine and Brittany, and Richard for Aquitaine. The next year he had young Henry crowned in his own lifetime. If anything could preserve the succession, surely this would, yet, in fact, it brought all the troubles in the world onto Henry's head, for he had given his sons paper domains, and had no intention that they should rule his empire. Yet a man with a title does not rest until he has that title's power.

Late in 1171 Henry had a pleasant interlude in Ireland - escaping from the world's condemnation for the murder of Becket. He spent Christmas at Dublin in a palace built for him out of wattles by the Irish.

Meanwhile, Eleanor had been intriguing with her sons, urging them to revolt and demand their rights. Early in 1173 they trooped off to the French court, and with Louis joined in an attack on Normandy. Henry clamped Eleanor into prison and went off to meet the new threat. Whilst he was busy meeting this, England was invaded from Flanders and Scotland, and more barons who fancied a return of the warlord days of Stephen broke into revolt.

Plainly it was St. Thomas's revenge, and there was no hope of dealing with the situation without expiation. In July 1174 Henry returned to England, and went in pilgrim's dress to Canterbury. Through the town he walked barefoot, leaving a trail of blood on the flinty stones, and went to keep his vigil of a day and a night by the tomb, not even coming out to relive himself. As he knelt, the assembled bishops and all the monks of Christchurch came to scourge him -- each giving him three strokes, but some with bitterness in their hearts laying on with five.

It was worth it though, for the very morning his vigil ended Henry was brought the news that the King of Scotland had been captured. He moved quickly northwards, receiving rebels' submission all the time. He met up with Geoffrey who had fought valiantly for him, and commented, 'My other sons have proved themselves bastards, this one alone is my true and legitimate son.'

Returning to France, he quickly came to an agreement with Louis and his three rebel sons, giving each a substantial income, though still no share of power.

Richard set to work reducing the Duchy of Aquitaine to order, and quickly proved himself an able general who performed tremendous feats, such as capturing a fully manned and provisioned castle with three walls and moats to defend it. But the people were less easy to subdue - they loved war for its own sake as their poet-leader, Bertrand de Born, shows well in his works: '. . . I love to see amidst the meadows tents and pavilions spread; and it gives me great joy to see drawn up on the field knights and horses in battle array; and it delights me when the scouts scatter people and herds in their path; and my heart is filled with gladness when I see strong castles besieged, and the stockades broken and overwhelmed, and the warriors on the bank, girt about by fosses, with a line of strong stakes, interlaced . . . Maces, swords, helms of different hues, shields that will be riven and shattered as soon as the fight begins; and many vassals struck down together; and the horses of the dead and wounded roving at random. And when battle is joined, let all men of good lineage think of naught but the breaking of heads and arms: I tell you I find no such savor in food or in wine or in sleep as in hearing the shout "On! On!" from both sides, and the neighing of steeds that have lost their riders, and the cries of "Help! Help!"; and in seeing men great and small go down on the grass beyond the fosses; in seeing at last the dead, with the pennoned stumps of lances still in their sides.'

These robust knights were actively encouraged by the young King Henry. He was handsome, charming and beloved of all, but also feckless and thoughtless -- far keener on tournaments and frivolity than the serious business of government. Then in the middle of his new rebellion he caught dysentery and shortly died. His devoted followers were thunderstruck --one young lad actually pined to death -- and the rebellion fizzled out.

The young king was dead, but Henry, wary of previous errors, was not going to rush into making a new one. He called his favorite youngest son, John, to his side and ordered Richard to give his duchy into his brother's hands. Richard -- his mother's favorite -- had made Aquitaine his home and worked hard to establish his control there; he refused to give his mother's land to anyone, unless it were back to Eleanor herself.

Henry packed John off to Ireland (which he speedily turned against himself) whilst he arranged to get Eleanor out of her prison and bring her to Aquitaine to receive back the duchy. Meanwhile the new King of France, Philip, was planning to renew the attack on English territories, all the while the three, Henry, Richard, and Philip, were supposed to be planning a joint crusade.

In 1188 Henry, already ill with the abscessed anal fistula that was to cause him such an agonizing death, refused point blank to recognize Richard as his heir. The crazy project for substituting John was at the root of it all, though Henry may have deluded himself into thinking he was playing his usual canny hand.

But diplomacy was giving way to the Greekest of tragedies. In June 1189, Philip and Richard advanced on Henry at his birthplace in Le Mans, and he was forced to withdraw with a small company of knights, showering curses on God. Instead of going to the safety of Normandy, he rode hard, his usual long distance, deep into Anjou. This worsened his physical condition and, in high fever, he made no effort to call up forces to his aid. Forced to meet Philip and Richard, he was so ill he had to be held on his horse whilst he deliriously mumbled his abject agreement to their every condition for peace.

Back in bed after his last conference he was brought the news that John, for whom he had suffered all this, had joined the rebels' side. Two sons-- both rebels -- were dead, two sons -- both rebels -- lived, and it was his bastard Geoffrey who now tended him in his last sickness. There was not even a bishop in his suite to give him the last rites. Over and again he cried out in agony "Shame! shame on a vanquished king!"

After his death the servants plundered him, leaving him in a shirt and drawers. When the marshal came to arrange the burial he had to scratch around for garments in which to dress the body. A bit of threadbare gold edging from a cloak was put around Henry's head to represent his sovereignty.

And yet Henry had foreseen it all. According to Gerald of Wales, he had long before ordered a fresco for one of his rooms at Winchester: the picture showed an eagle being pecked by three eaglets, and a fourth perched on his head, ready to peck out his eyes when the time should come. [Source: Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes and Noble Books, New York, 1995]

Henry married Duchess of Aquitaine Eleanor on 18 May 1152 in Bordeaux Cathedral, Bordeaux, France. Eleanor (daughter of Duke of Aquitaine William X "The Toulousan" and Eleanor Chatellerault de Rochefoucald) was born about 1122 in Chateau de Belin, Guinne, France; died on 31 Mar 1204 in Mirabell Castle, Poitiers, France; was buried in Fontevraud Abbey, France. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Aymer married Alix Courtenay about 1180. Alix (daughter of Emperor of Constantinople Pierre II Capet and Elizabeth) was born about 1160 in Courtenay, Loiret, France; died about 1218. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Notes:

Some genealogies (namely Ancestors of Paul McBride on the internet) have John the son of Gilbert FitzRichard de Clare, 2nd Earl of Clare (1066-1114) and Adelaide de Clermont.

John Mareschall, attaching himself to the fortunes of Maud against King Stephen, was with Robert, the consul, Earl of Gloucester, at the siege of Winchester Castle, when the party of the empress sustained so signal a defeat. Upon the accession of Henry II, however, in 1154, his fidelity was amply rewarded by considerable grants in the co. Wilts; and in the 10th of that monarch's reign, being then marshal, he laid claim, for the crown, to one of the manors of the see of Canterbury from the prelate, Thomas A the king. To this John s. his son and heir, John Mareschall. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 357, Marshal, Barons Marshal]

see also: http://www.castlewales.com/jf_gilbt.html

John married Sibyl d'Evereaux in 1142 in Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales. Sibyl (daughter of Sheriff of Wiltshire Walter FitzEdward d'Evereaux and Sibyl de Chaworth) was born about 1127 in Salisbury, Wiltshire, England; died in 3 Jun. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]

Notes:

Lord of Leinster 1171.

See also: http://www.castlewales.com/strngbow.html
and http://www.castlewales.com/is_clare.html

Richard married Eve (Aoife) MacMurrough on 26 Aug 1171 in Waterford. Eve (daughter of King of Leinster Diarmait MacMurchada and More O'Toole) was born about 1141 in Ireland; died after 1186 in Waterford, Ireland. [Group Sheet] [Family Chart]