Louis: The French Prince Who Invaded England (16 page)

Once the fleet and the army were assembled, Louis was ready to embark upon his greatest adventure yet. We may imagine his feelings of excitement and pride: it was 150 years since William the Conqueror had set sail for England, and Louis intended to emulate him and to return to France a victorious king. As this first wave of the invasion was military in character he would not be bringing his wife and family with him just yet. He bade farewell to Blanche, who was expecting another child, and accepted the blessings of French prelates against the dangers of the sea voyage, which had proved fatal for John’s fleet of mercenaries only a few months before.

It was 20 May 1216, the auspicious feast of Pentecost and the seventh anniversary of his knighting ceremony, when Louis embarked on Eustace’s ship; the tide was right in the late evening so they led the way out of the harbour and into the open sea as darkness began to fall. But despite the blessings, despite Louis’s prayers and despite the air of optimism, God did not immediately show approval. As the ships reached open water the winds rose and a huge and violent storm blew across the Channel, scattering the fleet, jeopardising the campaign and putting Louis’s life in danger.

CHAPTER FOUR

KING OF ENGLAND?

T
HE STORM RAGED
all night, and Louis’s flagship was tossed on the waves like a toy. All those on board were hurled backwards and forwards, up and down, belongings and effects tumbling round them as they sought to quell their heaving stomachs and listened to the howling wind and the sounds of the terrified horses in the hold below. Did Louis think his last hour had come? Did he pray for deliverance as another wave crashed over the ship and threatened to engulf it? If he did then his prayers were answered, for as night gave way to day the sea became calmer, and as the sun rose on the morning of 21 May 1216 he was in sight of English shores.

Just seven ships of the fleet had managed to stay together, and they anchored at Stonor on what was then the Isle of Thanet. Trusting that the rest of his army would soon catch up, Louis was not to be dissuaded from making his way on to land to set foot in the kingdom he was claiming. He was the first to wade ashore, watched by his men and by a crowd of curious locals who had gathered once the ships had been sighted. From this gathering there emerged a priest; Louis approached him and kissed the crucifix he was holding – whether in relief or in triumph we cannot know – before planting his lance in the ground. He was on English soil and he meant to make it his.

Louis’s confidence in his fleet was not misplaced, as during the course of that day and the next more and more of his ships arrived. It soon became apparent that almost all of them had survived, and they mustered at Sandwich, which was then a major port.

Meanwhile, John had hurried towards the coast to see the size of the invading army for himself. His own plans had been thrown into disarray by the storm. He had assembled a fleet of his own which was meant to have sailed to Calais, blocking Louis’s exit and therefore stopping him from crossing the Channel, but the conditions had prevented his ships putting to sea. Now he watched as more and more of the enemy arrived, their masts forming a forest around the port, and he needed to make a decision. He had a host with him: should he attack now, while the French were still seasick and before they had a secure foothold on land, risking everything in a great pitched battle in the hope that he could drive them back into the sea? Or should he make a strategic withdrawal until he could muster more forces, and then challenge Louis on a ground of his own choosing?

John must have had at the back of his mind the knowledge of what had happened to another English king who had given battle against invaders from France as soon as they had arrived: Harold and the flower of his men had been slaughtered at Hastings 150 years before, leaving the kingdom wide open. And Harold’s men had been loyal to him personally, whereas a large number of the troops John had at his command were foreign mercenaries, many of them Poitevins, who might well turn against him if they were forced to fight against the French king’s son. The advice of the experienced William Marshal, on whom John now relied to an increasing extent, was that battle should not be attempted at this stage. But the decision was the king’s to make, and he needed to determine his course of action quickly. What would he do? The Anonymous of Béthune gives us two slightly different takes on John’s feelings, telling us in his
History of the Dukes
that he ‘lost heart’ as he rode up and down trying to decide, while noting in the
Chronicle of the Kings of France
that he ‘did not dare’ engage Louis. William the Breton, never a fan of John, says that although he had an army three times the size of Louis’s he abandoned his camp, and ‘forgetting his promise and his royal pride, preferred to flee rather than fight’. Roger of Wendover is more measured: ‘He did not venture to attack Louis on his landing, lest in the battle they [John’s troops] might all leave him and go over to the side of Louis; he therefore chose to retreat for a time, rather than to give battle on an uncertainty.’

By this point John must really have felt as though he were walking on shifting sands. Here he was, a king supposedly on home ground, and not only were men who had once sworn fealty to him lining up to support the invader, but he could not even trust the troops he did have with him, as they had merely sold their swords to the highest bidder. The
History of William Marshal
, perhaps unsurprisingly, is critical of those who served John for financial gain rather than out of loyalty:

I should inform you at this point that, when the king ran out of resources, very few of the men stayed with him who were there for his money; they went on their way with their booty in hand. However, the Marshal at least, a man of loyal and noble heart, stayed with him in hard and difficult circumstances.

Whatever was going through John’s troubled mind, his ultimate decision was not to engage Louis, and he withdrew first to Dover and thence to Guildford and Winchester. And in so doing, he lost the initiative in the war straight away. Louis was able to establish a beachhead unopposed, and his men disembarked with their horses and equipment, set up camp, and took control of the port of Sandwich on 23 May. Aware of the dangers of leaving an enemy fleet behind him as he looked to move further inland, Louis captured John’s ships and sent them, with his own, back across the Channel, thus denying himself an escape route if things should go wrong. He had burned his bridges: there was to be no going back.

Given that he had not been able to claim victory in a pitched battle immediately, and that his opponent lived to fight another day, Louis set about doing what any good commander would do in the circumstances: subduing the local area and giving himself a secure foothold from which to launch further attacks. His troops spread out through Kent and took control of lands and supplies.

The major stronghold in the region was Dover Castle, a huge fortress which had been strengthened by John’s father, Henry II, until it was one of the showpiece castles of Europe. Matthew Paris called it ‘the key to England’, and so it was, for while it was held against him Louis could never quite consider himself safe. We have already noted that sieges were more common at this time than battles, and this was because the tactical importance of castles was such that leaving one in enemy hands could derail an entire campaign. A well-fortified castle could be held by a relatively small number of men who could cause a disproportionately large amount of trouble. The area they controlled was not, as might be supposed, limited to a bowshot’s length from the walls; rather it was a day’s ride in any direction. A garrison could make a sortie, launching devastating raids for miles around, and then retreat back behind their walls and towers to rest in safety before they attacked again.

It was therefore imperative that Louis take Dover as soon as possible, but John had left it in the trustworthy hands of Hubert de Burgh, his justiciar (the highest administrative officer in the kingdom), and Hubert was safely ensconced behind the thick walls with a garrison of knights and sergeants and plenty of supplies. A siege would take a long time. And it was equally imperative that Louis meet the barons who had been waiting for him for six months, and that he make his way to London. Wasting no time agonising over a decision, he opted to leave Dover for another day, and set off immediately along the road to London.

From Sandwich he rode to Canterbury, which surrendered without a fight as soon as the inhabitants saw him coming. One of those in England’s ecclesiastical capital was the papal legate Guala, based at the cathedral, who fled westwards to join John at Winchester and then solemnly inflicted the gravest penalty the Church had at its disposal, as Roger of Wendover describes: ‘The legate then convoked all the bishops, abbots and clergy whom he could muster, and, amidst the ringing of bells, and with lighted tapers, excommunicated by name the said Louis, with all his accomplices and abettors.’ Louis, unaware at first of the dread sentence, arrived at Rochester on 25 May. The barons who had been holding London against John now left the capital and came to meet him at Rochester: Robert Fitzwalter; Hugh Bigod, earl of Norfolk; Saer de Quincy, earl of Winchester; William de Mandeville, the new earl of Essex; Robert de Vere, earl of Oxford; and even William Marshal the younger, eldest son and heir of the earl of Pembroke who remained loyal to John. This might seem something of a shock, but it is possible that Marshal senior, ever the best guardian of his own interests (and in a situation not dissimilar to that of Philip Augustus and his support or lack thereof for Louis), might not have been all that upset by his son’s defection as it gave the family a foot in both camps, which could be exploited whoever emerged the victor. These barons and their compatriots and their men did homage to Louis as their king, the rightful occupier of the throne they claimed as vacant due to John’s misdeeds. Their combined forces were too much for the garrison of the shattered castle at Rochester, not yet properly rebuilt after John’s long siege there the previous year, and it surrendered to Louis on 30 May 1216.

All the momentum of the campaign so far was with Louis. While John skulked in Winchester, Louis had taken swift control of the south-east and now had something like half the barons of England with him. More were to arrive: as the lords of the land heard of his success they realised that if they wanted to be on the winning side they had better declare themselves before it was too late. The rumblings of discontent about John had been circulating for years, as had the rumours of a projected invasion from France, but now that Louis was here, now that the unthinkable had happened, now that a French prince of the house of Capet was actually on English soil, it was time to take sides. Once Louis had been crowned and had taken possession of the whole realm, they reasoned, he would look least favourably on those who had taken longest to come over to him.

Riding at the head of his men, Louis entered London in triumph on 2 June 1216. London at this time was not quite as populous as Paris – a reasonable estimate would be that it was home to about 40,000 people – but it was unquestionably the premier city in England. The only city mentioned by name in Magna Carta, it was many times larger than any of its nearest rivals such as Winchester, Lincoln, Norwich, York or Bristol. Its nearby suburb of Westminster was home to the exchequer and a number of large and luxurious residences such as Westminster Hall. London controlled trade routes thanks to its road and river links, and was also very defensible, dominated by the great Tower and surrounded by high stone walls. The people of London saw themselves as members of a kind of semi-independent commune within England, and they had certain rights and liberties freeing them from tolls and guaranteeing free trade; they also had the right to elect their own mayor.

As we have seen, the Londoners had been in alliance with the barons since the spring of 1215, and now they opened their gates for Louis. He was cheered in the streets by the crowds, the citizens no doubt eager for an end to the civil war that had disrupted life and trade for far too long. They would be glad to have anyone on the throne who could call a halt to the conflict and enable a return to normal life; that he was a man with a reputation for being both just and devout no doubt helped, as did the fact that his blond youthful good looks made him appear to advantage as he rode through the throng accepting their acclamation. That he was French appeared to bother them not at all; after all, England’s previous kings and their lords had their roots across the Channel, and French was the language of the court anyway. That his resources meant he could bring a swift peace to the realm was uppermost in their minds; he represented a new hope.