The Art of War in Twenty Battles E-Book

Anthony Tucker-Jones

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 563

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The second millennium of mankind has been characterised by almost incessant warfare somewhere on the face of the globe. The Art of War in Twenty Battles serves as a snapshot of the development of warfare over the past 1,000 years, illustrating the bravery and suffering mankind has inflicted upon itself in developing what we call the 'Art of War'. Here military historian Anthony Tucker-Jones selects twenty battles that illustrate the changing face of warfare over the past thousand years – from the Viking shield wall to long bows and knights, the emergence of gunpowder and finally the long-range faceless warfare of today. This is a look at the killing game and its devastating impact.

Leseprobe

For Amelia, Henrietta and Ophelia who make it all worthwhile

First published 2018 as The Killing Game

This paperback edition first published 2023

The History Press

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© Anthony Tucker-Jones, 2018, 2023

The right of Anthony Tucker-Jones to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

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ISBN 978 0 75098 830 8

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CONTENTS

Cacophony of War

Introduction: The Killing Game

1 The Vikings are Coming: Fulford Gate 1066

2 Chivalry in Armour: Northallerton 1138

3 Destruction of the Crusaders: Homs 1281

4 Triumph of the Bow: Crécy 1346

5 When Roses Clash: Bosworth 1485

6 Rape of the New World: Tenochtitlan 1521

7 Bastion of Christendom: St Elmo 1565

8 No Surrender, No Quarter: Magdeburg 1631

9 Turning Point: Lostwithiel 1644

10 Sword v. Musket: Falkirk 1746

11 An Army Divided: Wavre 1815

12 Spear v. Rifle: Isandhlwana 1879

13 Tank v. Tank: Villers-Bretonneux 1918

14 Blitz but no Krieg: Britain 1940

15 Storming the Beaches: D-Day 1944

16 The Great River Crossing: The Rhine 1945

17 A Very Modern Siege: Khe Sanh 1968

18 Triumph in the Air: Bekaa Valley 1982

19 A Show of Force: Khafji 1991

20 Asymmetric Warfare: Tora Bora 2001

21 Softwar and Cyberwar: The New Battlefields

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

CACOPHONY OF WAR

There is always a racket, often drums, chanting or just plain banging. The trick is, you get your game face on and psych out your opponent and that often involves noise – a lot of noise. It is all a game really. You have to wage psychological warfare against your enemy before the fighting even starts. You have to convince your enemy that you are more likely to kill him, than him kill you.

Just before battle a soldier will get a nagging knot in the pit of his stomach, even feel sick at the thought of dying or killing another human being. The taste of bile is never pleasant. There is no consolation save gripping your weapon even tighter as if it were some lucky talisman. When the adrenalin cuts in you have to channel it into fight, not flight. Running is for cowards.

It is the opening noise of battle that first tests a man’s courage. While waiting for the enemy there will be the steady tramp of thousands of feet, or worse still the pounding of thousands of feet charging towards you. Loud rumbling might herald the approach of chariots full of spearmen and archers; or thunder signal galloping hooves and cavalrymen armed with lances.

Once an army is deployed, the soldier has to endure the whistle of arrows or musket balls, or the whizz of cannonballs flying through the ranks arrayed around him. The soldier’s lot in life is to endure all this, for he cannot move without orders, if he does then desertion is always punishable by death. All this carnage and mayhem before the soldier has even got into battle.

He will see the distant flashes followed by the boom of the guns. ‘Pray don’t let it be me,’ thinks the soldier, ‘please don’t let it be me – or if it is, make it quick. Don’t let something be torn off followed by searing agony.’ No soldier wants to die listening to his own screams as his blood ebbs away in the dirt. That is a cruel end, likely to make his brothers-in-arms throw down their weapons and flee in blind terror. In some instances, though, death is preferable if it means not being dragged off to the temple and having your still-beating heart torn from your chest. Never listen to the cacophony of war, only listen for orders and press on, no matter what happens.

In 1879 British soldiers could hear a terrible rumble, like an oncoming freight train, it heralded the onslaught of 30,000 Zulu warriors. When the Zulus got closer, they began to bang their spears on their cowhide shields and chant ‘usuthu’ (kill). The disciplined but outnumbered redcoats bravely held their ground and prepared to fight to the death. There was nowhere to go – you could not outrun a Zulu impi. Nor should you listen to their terror-inducing death chants that formed part of the cacophony of war.

INTRODUCTION

THE KILLING GAME

Believe it or not, farmers started it all – the killing game. When some of the very first cultivators of crops and livestock settled around the fertile Nile, Euphrates and Tigris Rivers, mankind stopped being nomadic. Holding onto land became a fight for survival. Early wars were over access to food and water, but as cities sprang up wars were fought between powerful city states, then unified kingdoms and mighty empires. Squabbling farmers were one thing, but organised warfare brought the violence to a whole new level.

A quick namecheck with the Assyrians, Babylonians, Egyptians, Hittites and Sumerians in the period from 3,500 BC highlights they are all famous for their military prowess as much as their civilising influences in the Middle East. The Sumerians were some of the very first people to conduct organised warfare and were the first to employ metal for weapons and wear armour. They were also the first to use the chariot and the phalanx. The destruction of Nineveh on the Tigris in 612 BC by the Babylonians marked the end of almost 2,000 years of Assyrian military dominance, leaving the Persians in the ascendancy.

Technologically, the evolution of warfare was painfully slow. During this long period cavalry and chariots were the shock troops of their day. They provided the mobile punch to terrorise enemy infantry. It is often referred to as the Age of the Chariot. Common foot soldiers were armed with the axe, sword, spear, shield and bow – notably the latter, although portrayed on ancient monuments from the end of the fourth millennium, was not used by charioteers until after 2000 BC.

From 500–323 BC, the ancient world was dominated by the turbulent Greek and Persian wars – proud city states against an empire, both bordering the Mediterranean. It was during this era that naval and siege warfare began to truly develop. Afterwards it was the turn of Carthage and Rome to fight it out for dominance. By this stage, the chariot had fallen from favour. Rome’s legions and fleet eventually triumphed across the Mediterranean and Europe.

Following the collapse of the sprawling Roman Empire in AD 410, the so-called Dark Ages ran until 1066. Crucially, in all that time basic weapons remained largely unchanged, while numbers and superior tactics won the day. Then, in historical terms at least, things began to change very rapidly on the battlefield.

The second millennium AD of mankind was characterised by almost incessant warfare somewhere on the face of the globe. Sadly, in the field of human endeavour, it is one of the many things that the human race excels at. This book is not intended to glamorise or glorify war, but to chart and analyse its evolution on specific battlefields. It serves as a snapshot of the development of warfare over the last 1,000 years, illustrating the bravery and suffering mankind has inflicted upon itself in developing what we, rather crassly, call the ‘art of war’.

In that time, warfare has progressed from the bow to the unmanned armed drone – staggering technological simplicity to staggering technological sophistication. The spear was replaced by the pike, which was made redundant by the musket, as was the bow. The musket evolved into the rifle, machine gun and sub-machine gun, which made the foot soldier the king of the battlefield. Catapults were replaced by cannon, which became field artillery, howitzers and anti-tank guns. Cavalry were replaced by the armoured car and the tank. At sea, the warship’s reign was challenged by the submarine. Finally, warfare took to the air with the development of the fighter and bomber aircraft.

Increasingly, man has sought to dehumanise and depersonalise the ‘art of war’ by distancing himself from the physical business of killing his enemy, but one thing remains universal and that is the human condition. Much has been written about esprit de corps, but essentially the quality of troops and their leadership remains just as important, if not more so, as the quality or sophistication of their weapons. Excitement and peer pressure drive bravery, not loftier ideals of glory. Also, accurate intelligence has always been vital: where is your enemy, what is his strength and what are his intentions? Such information is essential in ensuring victory – get it wrong and it spells disaster.

Great acts of courage on the battlefield pose the question, what is it that pushes soldiers, sailors and airmen through the ages to feats of heroism? Why do they put themselves in harm’s way? The ideal has always been for sovereign and country; deep down, though, it is acknowledged that servicemen and women invariably make the ultimate sacrifice simply to safeguard their comrades and families. Peer pressure is often a key factor when it comes to acts of selfless valour. Few go willingly to risk their lives or go to their deaths in the name of their country; however, risking ones’ life to protect fellow human beings is a far nobler act.

Understanding the underlying psychological cause for heroism is one thing; it is another to fully comprehend how people individually or collectively muster the courage to face and often overcome life-threatening situations when all their instincts for self-preservation are urging them to flee. Remaining on any battlefield requires self-control and some courage. Good military training and discipline can only engender so much bravery when under fire. Ultimately though, humanity often shines out even in the face of the most brutal modern industrialised warfare.

In addition, there is an unspoken universal truth about war – some people enjoy it immensely because it is the most exciting thing they will ever experience. War is a drug and it can be very addictive. Nothing can replicate its intense buzz. Hernán Cortés conquered the New World for the thrill of it, as much as any divine mission. Soldiers fight because it is very dangerous and therefore very exciting.

While the basic nature of warfare has not changed over the millennia – namely defeating enemy forces and seizing ground – changing technology in terms of armour, naval and aerial warfare means that there have been fundamental changes, particularly in the past two centuries, in the types of fighting environment in which great courage is needed. Most notably, acts of gallantry by pilots, aircrew and submariners come to mind, where the elements themselves pose an equal, if not greater, danger to enemy action.

The following selection of campaigns, spanning 1066 to 2001, is entirely subjective and consists of engagements that have intrigued and inspired me as a writer in over thirty years of studying military affairs. The linking factor with each central battle is that they played a pivotal part in the outcome of the war. Their principal role is to graphically illustrate the changing face of warfare over the past millennium and how it shaped history. This ranges from the fierce Viking shield wall of the Dark Ages and the rise of the Norman knight, to the deadly long bow and knights of the Middle Ages, to the emergence of gunpowder during the Renaissance and pike-and-shot periods with the effect this had on siege warfare, to linear warfare in the Age of Enlightenment and finally to the rise of aerial and armoured warfare during the tail end of the bloodstained twentieth century. These are designed to give a flavour of the killing game and its far-reaching impact.

Novelist and former journalist Frederick Forsyth summed up the enduring fascination with the killing game when he wrote, ‘A strange thing, war. With its bloodshed and cruelty, its pain, grief and tears, it ought to fill every civilised person with the utmost and unwavering revulsion. It ought to and often does. And yet, and yet …’ Field Marshal Montgomery asked, ‘Why do wars happen? Some will say that war is the child of civilisation, others that war stems from raw human nature. But war has always been the arbiter when other methods of reaching agreement have failed.’

1

THE VIKINGS ARE COMING: FULFORD GATE 1066

A great calamity befell northern Anglo-Saxon England in September 1066 when the country fought two major battles against marauding Viking forces. At Fulford Gate, the Saxon Army of the North was shattered and Norwegian King Harald Hardrada secured half of England. His Anglo-Saxon rival, King Harold Godwineson, managed to retrieve the situation at Stamford Bridge and snatch victory from disaster just before the Normans, under Duke William, invaded southern England.

While the battles at Stamford Bridge and Hastings remain poignant landmarks in British military history, few have heard of Fulford Gate or considered its significance. It was the very first engagement that fateful summer and Hardrada’s triumph forced Harold to abandon his watch on the southern coast; ultimately, this dictated the relative weakness of his army at Hastings.

The only contemporary sources are Snorri Sturluson’s thirteenth-century Heimskringla (Saga of the Norse Kings), in particular King Harald’s Saga, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. King Harald’s Saga is the most detailed account of the whole campaign, but its accuracy is open to endless debate. What is clear is that 1066 saw Anglo-Saxon England threatened with invasion from the south and the north. Both Duke William of Normandy and King Harald Hardrada of Norway had legitimate blood ties with the English throne. When King Edward the Confessor died that year, the Saxon Witan had favoured the succession of his opportunist brother-in-law, Earl Harold Godwineson of Wessex.

The seeds of the northern invasion were laid in 1065 when Harold’s brother, Earl Tostig Godwineson, was expelled from his Northumbrian earldom. Harold did not spring to his defence, an act that could have plunged England into civil war. Tostig’s rule had been so unpopular that it incited rebellion. To appease the rebels, King Edward I (the Confessor) had him banished and replaced him with the teenage Morcar of Mercia. Tostig claimed bitterly that Harold was implicated in the revolt – a slight possibility, as Harold may have seen him as a rival. The end result was that Tostig bore his brother a deep-seated grudge and was determined to regain Northumbria, no matter the cost. Furthermore, Tostig felt that he should have been crowned king on 6 January 1066 and not his brother. Initially, he raided southern England, possibly with the encouragement of Duke William, but was driven north until he found the sympathetic ear of King Harald Hardrada, Thunderbolt of the North.

Harald Hardrada was the last of the great Viking adventurers and had held a senior rank in the Byzantine emperor’s Varangian Guard during 1035–44. His participation in the 1066 campaign heralded the end of the Viking era. Hardrada had a good claim to the English throne as he was related to England’s Danish King Cnut (1016–35). Tostig may have offered his aid and possibly the co-operation of Northumbria in defeating Harold, if Hardrada would promise him the Northumbrian earldom or sub-kingship.

Tostig has always been cast as the villain of the story, which is not necessarily true; nonetheless, he had sailed first to Flanders and then Denmark seeking support. He hoped King Svein of Denmark would provide a Danish army, but ironically the king was too preoccupied defending Denmark against the Norwegians. So Tostig, legend has it, sailed to Norway to see King Harald Hardrada at Oslo Fjord. Hardrada was initially reluctant to invade England; there is some evidence to suggest that his son Magnus tried unsuccessfully in 1058 with a fleet from Norway, Ireland, Orkney and Shetland. In Norway, rather surprisingly, it was felt in some quarters that one Saxon housecarl was equal to two Norwegian warriors.

To the King of Norway, the opportunity of conquering fertile England was indeed a tempting prize. No doubt he felt confident that any Norman invasion would either not take place or could be contained and defeated in the South. His initial plans were simple – seize York, the capital of the North and the third city of the realm after London and Winchester. Finally, Tostig convinced Hardrada of the merits of the enterprise, and in the spring of 1066 Tostig sailed to Flanders to collect his English and Flemish troops.

By June–July 1066, the Norwegians began to gather their forces at Solund Isles and Hardrada sailed from Trondheim to collect them. Before leaving Trondheim, he took the precaution of having Magnus, his eldest son, declared king and regent in his absence. Even so, he took his wife and other children, including Prince Olaf. According to Sturluson, the king dreamt of his dead brother, who told him that death awaited him. Also, while on ship two Norwegian warriors had bad dreams bearing ill omens for the coming invasion – Gydir saw an ogress, who told him they were sailing west to die; while Thord, on a ship near the king’s, saw an ogress riding a wolf prowling in front of the Saxon Army and consuming Norwegian corpses. In such superstitious times, these were foreboding portents of things to come.

By August, the fleet was on route for northern England. Fortunately for King Hardrada, the winds that blew down the North Sea aided his crossing and in turn blew across the English Channel causing Duke William to continually postpone his expedition.

King Hardrada had a very large army, although its exact composition can only be open to conjecture. He sailed from Sogne Fjord near Bergen with 200 longships and forty smaller vessels, which could have carried up to 18,000 men, a full leidang, and this was without the forces collected from the Scandinavian colonies off northern England. It is very unlikely that Hardrada would have taken Norway’s entire fighting force. He probably only took the 7,000–8,000 professional soldiers that he is known to have had available (approximately 7,200 hirdmen fought at the Battle of Nissa in 1062 against the Danes).

England was not unprepared for the threat of invasion. The country was divided mainly between the three great earldoms of Wessex, in the South, and Mercia and Northumbria, which consisted of the Midlands and the North respectively. The rest of England was divided amongst Earl Waltheof, whose father had once been Earl of Northumbria (his earldom consisted of the shires of Huntingdon and Northampton), and Harold’s brothers, Gyrth (Earl of East Anglia) and Leofwine (Earl of the shires of Bedford, Essex, Kent and Surrey).

Half of the war-making potential of England was centred on London and the other half on York. Indeed, the two northern earldoms combined had proved themselves a match for Wessex in 1050, when Harold’s father was defeated in a power struggle. An Army of the North and an Army of the South (though Harold was probably only certain of the Norman attack) countered the threat of double invasion. King Harold, with the Saxon fleet, planned to protect southern England from the Normans, while Earls Morcar of Northumbria and Edwin of Mercia could defend northern England from Norwegian aspirations.

England in 1066.

Anglo-Saxon organisation was based on the fyrd, or militia. Every freeman between 15 and 60 had a military obligation to serve in the General, or great fyrd, which was designed to meet local emergencies, but was badly trained and ill-armed. In contrast, the select fyrd was a more regular force, better equipped and prepared to fight outside their home areas. The majority of the select fyrd consisted of thanes – lesser nobles and the total national force may have been about 4,000. The population of England during this period was only between 1 and 2 million. Professional soldiers were provided from personal retinues of hearth-troops, or hird, very similar to the Vikings.

The royal household maintained a standing force of 4,000 housecarls (also spelled huscarl: the terms hirdmen and housecarl are largely interchangeable, although the latter came to cover all types of professional soldier), who were usually stationed near London and York under normal circumstances. Rather ironically, the Scandinavians provided mercenaries for the Anglo-Saxon armies and the Danes helped to found the original Saxon housecarls in about 1016. The Saxons’ naval forces also provided fighting men in the form of lithsmen (sailors) and butsecarls (marines), some of whom might have been recruited into Edwin and Morcar’s army.

The Norwegian leidang was a levy of ships and men, the nucleus of which was the hird. The hirdmen or thingmen paid retainers were organised under jarls (earls) who maintained sixty men, and supervised four hersir (local military commanders) who kept a further twenty men each. The numbers sixty and eighty being roughly two longships’ complements. Commanding officers consisted of kings, sub-kings, princes and earls, while the senior hird officers were the stallari (marshal) and the merkismadr (marksman, standard-bearer). Hardrada had a personal hird of 120 men – sixty hirdmen, thirty housecarls and thirty gestrs (similar to select fyrds), commanded by Stallari Styrkar. The professionals were supplemented by freemen, peasants and bondi (land-owning farmers), although they were regarded as not particularly reliable.

Hardrada sailed first to the Viking kingdoms of Shetland and Orkney (he left his wife and daughters on Orkney) to gather the forces of Earls Paul and Erlend, Godred of Iceland, an unnamed Irish king, and the Faroes, the Hebrides and the Isle of Man, totalling perhaps 3,000. King Malcom of Scotland may have also unofficially contributed a few troops as he supported Tostig’s cause. Sailing down the coast of Scotland the fleet numbered about 300 ships and up to 12,000 men, having been joined by a further 1,000 mercenaries and adventurers with Tostig. These forces, under Copsi, a rebel Northumbrian thegn and possibly Tostig’s lieutenant, consisted of English and Danish housecarls, Flemish knights recruited in Flanders (the count was Tostig’s brother-in-law) and Scottish mercenaries.

By 7 or 8 September, the Viking fleet had reached the Tyne Estuary. The two brothers, Edwin and Morcar, were caught off guard, having already called the fyrd out against Tostig earlier in the year. The Vikings terrorised the countryside for a week. Scarborough was burned and many of its inhabitants butchered for resisting, as were the local fyrd. Hardrada moved down the coast, landing at Holderness, where he engaged a Saxon militia force and easily defeated it. He then sailed southwards and by 18 September his fleet had entered the Humber Estuary, followed by the River Ouse. The Norwegians then disembarked at Riccall, a mere 9 miles from the prize of York.

News of the invasion may have reached Harold, back in London after his vigil on the southern coast, by about 15 September. He was now faced with the dilemma of whether he should march north and reinforce Edwin and Morcar or let them repel the invader on their own. The king must have had a vague idea of the strength of the Normans across the Channel (about 8,000) but not the Norwegians, until they had actually landed. It transpired that the Viking forces were larger, and probably stronger than Harold had expected, therefore the invasion of the North was the more serious threat. Also, if the contrary winds in the Channel persisted there would be no Norman invasion before the end of the year and Harold and his supporters could rest easy.

The area of campaign in 1066.

Indeed, the situation in the North needed Harold’s immediate attention. The inexperienced Morcar and Edwin were only in their late teens, with no reliable lieutenant to advise and support them. Coupled to this was Northumbria’s Danish heritage, populated by a mixture of Saxons, Danes, Norse and Irish Vikings – there was a slight risk that they might rise up in support of Hardrada or rally to the discredited Tostig. Harold must have seen it as a good chance to combine the Southern and Northern armies in order to deliver a knockout blow to the Norwegians. This would be good for the country’s morale and would set an unsettling example to Duke William. If he was successful, he could then march south with a very large army, in the sure knowledge that York was secure. On about 18 September, the king marched northwards, gathering 3,000 men, most of whom were regular soldiers, thanes, thegns, housecarls and select fyrd.

Meanwhile, in the North, the two earls had remained questionably inactive. Why had they not attempted to confront the Viking invasion force on the coast? To start with, Northumbria was not as populated as the South so it would have taken longer to gather their scattered forces. During the week that Harald Hardrada had been in England, the earls had been hurriedly gathering the select fyrd, which were probably quite weak and mustering the northern great fyrd. Also during this period, the Norwegians had been effectively drawn inland, stretching their lines of communication and dividing their army in order to protect the fleet. It seems the Saxons may have had a weak naval force at Tadcaster on the River Wharfe, this meant if the Vikings ventured beyond the junction of the Rivers Ouse and Wharfe there was a danger of them being cut off from the sea. This may account for why Hardrada landed at Riccall instead of further up the Ouse.

Even so, by 19 September Edwin and Morcar must have been very alarmed by how close the Norsemen were to York. The city was reasonably well fortified, although its population, numbering some 9,000, must have been swelled by refugees fleeing the marauding Vikings, plus the earls had gathered an army in the vicinity. It is very doubtful whether the city could have sustained such a large number of people for long, or withstood a siege. Fortunately, the Norwegians were not equipped for a siege, but nonetheless Edwin and Morcar could not stand by and do nothing while Hardrada’s forces continued to ravage the North. They could not really afford to wait for Harold, even if they had heard he was on his way, which is doubtful. The king had over 200 miles to cover and they probably did not expect him for at least two weeks. Edwin may have heard that Harold had fallen ill (legend has it) on his return to London and did not expect him at all in the immediate future.

The two earls were probably spoiling for a good fight as neither had fought in a major battle before. They had gathered a reasonably large army and had been joined by Earl Waltheof. He was only about 20 and likewise may have been keen to get to grips with the invader. The three earls, on deciding to give battle, probably had little grasp of the strategic implications of their actions. They marched their army to Fulford Gate (also Gate Fulford) or Apud Fulford (Fulford Water), 2 miles south of York to block the Norwegians’ line of advance on 20 September.

On that very day, King Hardrada marched on the city, leaving Earls Paul of Shetland and Erlend of Orkney with about 2,000 men to guard the fleet, and possibly up to 1,000 men in Cleveland, Scarborough and Holderness. There was only one road leading to York, up which the Viking host would have to force their way. It was raised because of the nature of the surrounding countryside; several hundred yards to the west lay the River Ouse, while to the east lay a water-filled ditch and beyond, a marshy fen.

The only reasonably contemporary source, Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, says the Saxons had ‘an immense army’, which is probably true. It may also partly account for why the Saxons were so ready to give battle. Morcar’s Army of the North consisted of his own housecarls, plus the Northumbrian select fyrd and the poorly equipped great fyrd. The estimated select fyrds of Mercia and Northumbria were about 8,000 men; this would have given Morcar 3,000–4,000 select fyrd, along with say about 2,000–3,000 great fyrd.

Edwin had arrived with his housecarls and the Mercian select fyrd, probably numbering in the region of at the most 2,000 fighters, while Waltheof’s contingent was likely to have been no stronger than 1,000. The total number of housecarls with the army may have been about 750, based on the personal retinues of the three earls – roughly 250 men each. In 1065, Tostig is known to have had 300 housecarls in his service. It is quite possible that there may have been up to 1,500 royal housecarls at Slessvik near York, but it seems more likely that the vast majority of them were in the South with Harold.

Therefore, it appears the Saxons had an army numbering in the region of 8,000–9,000 men, roughly the equivalent strength of the Vikings, but they had one big disadvantage, they were largely a provincial army being pitted against a largely professional fighting force. Nevertheless, Northumbrian confidence in their army was strengthened by the fact that 100 clergymen from York marched to Fulford Gate with them.

On Wednesday, 20 September 1066, the Saxon Army of the North finally confronted the Viking Army of Norway to settle the first round of the fateful struggle for the English crown. In order to block the Vikings’ line of advance, the Saxons straddled the road, their line stretching from the River Ouse to the marshy ground towards Heslington. They deployed in a close formation divided into two or three divisions. Morcar commanded the Saxon left and Edwin the right, with Waltheof in the centre, or more likely on the far right. (This is justified by his subsequent successful flight from the battlefield.)

Fulford Gate, 20 September 1066.

By the eleventh century, the Saxons were using horses not only for transport (housecarls often rode while on campaign), but on limited occasions as weapons of war. It was no doubt a natural progression influenced by developments on the continent. Even so, in all their major engagements the Saxons fought like their Scandinavian cousins – on foot. Snorri Sturluson’s account of Saxon cavalry at Stamford Bridge possibly refers to mounted housecarls, but may be confused with Hastings and is therefore potentially misleading. Certainly, no Saxon cavalry are mentioned at Fulford Gate. The Saxon battle formation was the bord-weal or scyld-burh, alias the shield wall, and tactics were very similar to the Vikings.

Scandinavian armies fought predominantly on foot, although they did use horses for transport and raiding. Viking tactics consisted of the shield wall and the svynfylking, a wedge-shaped formation, designed to pierce an opponent’s line. They fought about five deep and were sometimes broken up into divisions, as seems to have been the case at Fulford Gate. Sword and axemen formed the front rank, then the spearmen, followed by the archers, javelin men and slingers. A battle commenced with a hail of missiles to weaken the opponents’ shield wall.

How calculated Hardrada’s deployment was, is unclear, but it was to have significant bearing on the forthcoming battle. Hardrada, seeing the Saxon Army arrayed before him, placed the bulk of his Norwegians on the left, next to the river. He personally took command of this wing with his son, Prince Olaf, and his lieutenant, Hird Stallari Eystein Orre. Godred of Iceland may have commanded the centre, while Tostig, possibly supported by Copsi, commanded the right. The centre and right stretched thinly down to the ditch, with the left probably twice as strong.

Ironically, it seems the opposing leaders deployed their forces so that their weakest wings were facing their opponents’ strongest one. Morcar was on the Saxon left with the bulk of the Northumbrian forces, while Hardrada was on the Viking left with the majority of his Norwegian troops. The battle that followed can be divided into three distinct phases.

Morcar, eyeing the Viking line, could see Hardrada’s battle standard on one wing and Tostig’s on the other. The latter’s flank was visibly the weaker; this would be the point at which to turn the Norwegians. In the first phase, the Saxon Army marched forward, Morcar with his Northumbrians advanced down the line of the ditch, leaving his brother and Waltheof to hold Hardrada. Upon reaching Tostig’s shield wall, the Northumbrians let loose a hail of missiles and then with battle cries of ‘God Almighty’ and ‘Holy Cross’, they crashed into Tostig. Under the pressure of the impact, the Danes, English, Flemings and Scots began to give ground – this may have been a deliberate move – and the Northumbrians pressed forward. Morcar and his housecarls, hewing about them, tried to cut their way to Tostig but his line did not break.

At this point Harald Hardrada could see that the Saxon left had outpaced the right. With a cry to his merkismadr, brandishing his standard Landeythan (Land-Waster or -Ravager) and surrounded by Styrkar’s housecarls, he led forward his fierce Norwegians. In this second phase, Hardrada’s shield wall charged into Edwin’s: so great was the fury of the Vikings’ assault that they swept away all before them. They pierced the Saxons’ centre and shattered their right. Edwin’s banner went down and the Mercian line collapsed. Throwing away their arms, his men fled upriver, into it, or towards Morcar in panic. Unfortunately, Morcar’s plan had misfired and it was the Saxons’ flank that had been turned, not the Vikings’. Possibly they had fallen into a deliberate trap.

In the final phase of the battle, Hardrada swung his forces to the east, pursuing the broken Mercians and cutting off Morcar’s remaining men. Tostig also urged his warriors forward and Morcar’s troops were pushed back, being trapped against the ditch and the fen. For the Saxon Army of the North the final collapse was almost over. Many Northumbrians and Mercians fled across the fen and were drowned; others were cut down by the victorious Vikings.

Morcar’s housecarls died fighting around the young earl, while Edwin’s men were pursued to the very gates of York where many more were cut down. The Saxons left the ditch, according to Sturluson, ‘so filled with dead that the Norsemen could go dry-foot over the fen’. About 1,000 of the North’s best troops were left strewn over the battlefield, probably mainly housecarls, along with the clergymen from York who were also mercilessly slaughtered. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle states the Northumbrians made ‘great slaughter’ of the Vikings, so it would be safe to assume the Norwegians lost about 400–600 men.

Collapse and destruction of the Saxon Army.

Sturluson gives the impression that Morcar was killed, ‘Warriors lay thickly fallen, around young Earl Morcar’, but this simply means his housecarls died protecting him. Waltheof managed to flee with the survivors, but it is quite likely Edwin and Morcar were captured, as they would have been valuable for ransom and as hostages. Certainly, all three earls were to later lead northern resistance to the Norman occupation in 1069.

The military power of Mercia and Northumbria was scattered. York, fearing a repeat of Scarborough, surrendered, offering its allegiance, men and hostages. Hardrada demanded 500 hostages, soldiers for the invasion of southern England and then withdrew to Riccall. King Harold had left London on the very day of the battle and arrived in Tadcaster, 10 miles from York, on Sunday, 24 September having already heard of the earls’ defeat. He must have realised they had jumped the gun and he would have to confront the Norwegians largely unassisted. At Tadcaster, Harold drew his army up in battle order expecting an attack from York, when none came he marched into the city the following morning. Harold was faced with three courses of action: he could stay in York and await attack, march on Riccall or advance to Stamford Bridge, where the Vikings were to collect their hostages, and try to catch them by surprise. Harold’s men rested briefly and then marched on Stamford Bridge.

After his victory at Fulford Gate, Hardrada seems to have thrown caution to the wind, assuming that the North would not offer any more serious opposition. That Monday, he disembarked his army and once again divided his forces as he had done prior to Fulford Gate. From each company, two men were to go for every one that was left behind. Prince Olaf, Stallari Eystein Orre and Earls Paul and Erlend also remained with the fleet. Therefore, Hardrada probably took with him 7,000–8,000. Tostig accompanied him, as did Stallari Styrkar, commanding his personal housecarls, possibly Godred of Iceland and Copsi.

It was a hot day, so Hardrada’s men foolishly discarded their mail and leather armour, taking only helmets, shields, swords, axes, spears and bows. After all, they were marching to a rendezvous with a defeated people, not a battle – or so they thought. Stamford Bridge, over the River Derwent, is 7 miles east of York, all the roads in eastern Yorkshire converged here and it strategically dominated the region. On arrival, the Vikings casually strew themselves in the grass on either side of the river, perhaps recounting their exploits at Fulford five days previous. Harold was presented with the opportunity of defeating the Norwegians piecemeal, it is possible he knew of the 3,000 men still at Riccall, but even if he did not, the army before him was unprepared, divided and not in a very favourable position.

The Saxons had, in the meantime, marched along the old Roman road to Gate Helmsey. It was only when they were a mile away, coming over the brow of the gradual slope from Gate Helmsey to Stamford Bridge that the Norwegians spotted their banners. Hardrada summoned Tostig, who thought they looked hostile but might be kinsmen coming to join them, so there was a vague possibility that they might be rebels. The Norwegian King waited cautiously. Sturluson notes, ‘the closer the army came, the greater it grew, and their glittering weapons sparkled like a field of broken ice.’

When the Golden Warrior standard came into view Hardrada rapidly realised it was King Harold Godwineson. Tostig counselled retreat to the fleet and the rest of the army, but the majority of the Vikings were on the wrong side of the river to be able to retire to Riccall quickly. Most of the Norwegians were on the left bank and to retire down the right bank would probably require a major rearguard action as the Saxons were so near.

King Harold had marched north with about 3,000 men; many of them would have been professional soldiers. Once in the North, he was probably able to recruit up to 2,000 more, but it seems doubtful that the bulk of Morcar’s and Edwin’s scattered army was retrievable. This means that Harold had a force of about 5,000, possibly 6,000 at most, which were visibly outnumbered by the Vikings. Hardrada decided to send three men on horses to fetch the others while he would fight a holding action. Hardrada would not have liked the idea of fighting with his back to the largely unfordable river. However, the slope on the right bank immediately above the bridge, in an area now called Battle Flats, was an attractive defensive position. Therefore, those Vikings on the left bank were ordered to delay the Saxons while the main body formed up on the right side of the river.

Sturluson talks of cavalry attacks, and it is most likely at this point that one occurred. The mounted Saxon housecarls, on seeing the Vikings divided, spurred their horses towards the bridge. Some Norwegians withdrew, but others formed a semi-circular shield wall blocking the Saxons’ way. Many of them must have dismounted to get to grips with their foe, who, under the weight of numbers gave ground and eventually collapsed. One solitary Viking, wearing a mail coat and wielding a two-handed axe, prevented the Saxons from clinching victory by straddling the bridge and holding everyone at bay or chopping them down. An arrow was shot at him but glanced off his armour. Anyone who tried to rush him was hewn down; it is claimed some forty men suffered this fate. Finally, in a rather cowardly act, someone in a boat stabbed him from underneath the bridge and the Saxon Army streamed across to find the Norwegian Army formed up on the slight rise.

Hardrada did not attempt to further prevent the Saxons from crossing because this would have simply brought the battle to a halt. He drew his army up in a circular shield wall, placing himself, his personal housecarls and Merkismadr Fridrek with his black raven standard, Land-Waster, in the centre. Both Hardrada’s hirdmen and Tostig’s men were to act as the reserve. The front rank formed a spear wall by embedding the ends of their spears into the ground, while those behind were to thrust their spears at the horses’ chests. This was done, according to Snorri, because the enemy cavalry always attacked in small groups and then wheeled away.

Stamford Bridge, 25 September 1066.

All this sounds very uncharacteristic of Viking or Anglo-Saxon warfare. However, because of his Byzantine experiences, Hardrada would have been familiar with the Byzantines’ kontos 12ft spear or the rhiptarion 9ft spear. When attacked by cavalry, Byzantine infantry’s front rank would brace themselves by pushing their spear butts into the ground. Thus, Tostig’s Flemings may have been some of the first people in western Europe to use the pike under Hardrada’s guidance. Also, some of the Norwegians may have used kite shields, although the Varangian Guard is not recorded as using them until 1122.

King Hardrada, while inspecting his warriors, fell from his stumbling horse and Harold, upon seeing this, was awestruck by his size. Shortly after this, twenty Saxon housecarls, all in mail (including their horses according to Sturluson), rode up to the Viking lines and asked to speak to Tostig. One rider offered him one-third of England if he would join his brother. Tostig was insulted and asked what Hardrada would get. The rider replied, ‘King Harold has already declared how much of England he is prepared to grant him: seven feet of ground, or as much as he is taller than other men.’ Hardrada asked who this man was, to which Tostig answered, ‘that was King Harold Godwineson’. The Norwegian greatly regretted missing the chance to kill Harold, but Tostig said he would not be his brother’s murderer. Hardrada also rued the fact that his men had left their armour behind, including ‘Emma’, his knee-length mail coat.

Snorri Sturluson says the Saxon cavalry now attacked, riding round the Norwegian shield wall. They, in return, fired their bows at the horsemen. The Saxons repeatedly charged, regrouped and charged again. At one point the Vikings pursued the retiring horsemen, but the Saxons turned and rode them down (this all sounds too much like Hastings …). King Hardrada was enraged and charged to help his men and in full battle fury all gave before him. Many were slain and it looked as if the Saxons would be routed. At this crucial moment, Hardrada was struck in the throat by an arrow. He fell, and all those around him were slain, although some retreated under Land-Waster. Indeed, Tostig’s forces rallied under this banner and both sides fell back to regroup.

Harold offered the survivors quarter, including his brother, but all refused, preferring to die with their king, and the battle resumed. It was about now that Eystein Orre belatedly arrived with his 3,000 reinforcements from the fleet. They had forced marched the 12 miles from Riccall, crossing the Derwent to the south at Kexby.

Reaching Tostig’s position, Orre seized Land-Waster and his forces fell on the Saxons who, at this new onslaught, again nearly broke. However, Orre’s men had run all the way from the fleet in their armour and most were exhausted. As the fighting progressed, many of them threw off their mail; some collapsed, and others even died of exhaustion. The result of this was that the force drained out of Orre’s attack and the Vikings were finally beaten. By the late afternoon it was all over; some remained to fight to the death, while others fled.

Stallari Styrkar, commander of Hardrada’s personal housecarls, managed to escape on a horse; Godred of Iceland also fled and escaped to the Isle of Man. In the Lincolnshire village of Barrow-on-Humber, a legend persisted that after the battle Hardrada lived there as a hermit, and although this is untrue, it may indicate that some Vikings fled there. The defeated Norwegians were pursued back to their fleet, where the fight continued. As the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle notes, some of them were drowned, others burned, which may indicate that some of the ships were set alight.

King Harold gave quarter to the survivors, including Olaf and the Earls of Orkney. They were sent home in just twenty-four of the original 300 vessels. The Vikings are thought to have lost as many as 7,000 men, although this may be a little high, and many of them would have been butchered in the surrounding countryside. Tostig’s body was found on the battlefield with his head cloven right to the chin by an axe blow, possibly delivered by Harold himself. Hardrada lay surrounded by those he had slain.

It was a whole generation before the Norwegians undertook another foreign expedition. Stamford Bridge was the last major battle fought on English soil in which a Viking Army took part. Three years later, the Danes arrived with a fleet to join the Saxon rebels resisting the Normans, but they were bought off.

Stamford Bridge, the final battle.

King Harold’s victory celebrations were cut short on 1 October 1066, when he heard that Duke William had landed on the south coast at Pevensey three days earlier on 28 September. By winning at Stamford Bridge, Harold’s victory became the all-important decisive Battle of the North, pushing Fulford Gate into the shadows of obscurity. The significance of Fulford Gate is clear, if the Norwegians had been defeated earlier, a far stronger Saxon Army containing a large northern element could have confronted the Normans at Hastings and the outcome of the day could have been completely different. Instead, a fortnight later, Harold was dead on the field of Hastings and William was on the military road to becoming master of England. By retrieving the disaster of Fulford Gate with victory at Stamford Bridge, Harold tragically undermined his chances with William, though it was to be a close-run thing.

2

CHIVALRY IN ARMOUR: NORTHALLERTON 1138

In the wake of the relative peace and unity under William the Conqueror and his sons, England lapsed into civil war and anarchy for nineteen bitter years. In fact, the situation was so bad that it has been compared to the Wars of the Roses and the English Civil War, which occurred hundreds of years later. One of the root causes was that during the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries rapid castle building rendered major pitched battles almost superfluous. Notably, while this nineteen-year period witnessed only two major military engagements, at Northallerton and Lincoln, there were numerous protracted sieges. The most unusual of the two battles, Northallerton, saw an English Army led by a holy standard dramatically drive off a Scottish invasion supporting a contender to the English throne.

When William II died in 1100, his younger brother Henry I, who has been described as a grasping opportunist, succeeded him. Certainly, after William’s death in a dubious hunting accident, Henry was quick to seize the royal treasury in Winchester and move to Westminster with his supporters. This swift action pre-empted his older brother Robert, who was away on the First Crusade. However, Henry’s only legitimate son William was killed in a shipwreck in 1112 and his second marriage did not provide another male heir.

It was Henry’s desire to see his bloodline continue that laid the seeds of civil war. In December 1126 he gained an oath of fealty from the barons supporting his daughter Matilda’s accession. She was to prove unpopular because of her eventual marriage to Geoffrey of Anjou, the French Angevins being the traditional enemy of Normandy. From 1114 Matilda had been married to Emperor Henry V of Germany and remained empress until his death in 1125. Three years later, she married Geoffrey of Anjou to complete a new military alliance.

There were actually three other contenders for the English throne. The candidates were Henry’s illegitimate but able son, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, who had seen military service against French and Norman rebels, Henry’s favourite nephew, Stephen of Blois, and Stephen’s elder brother, Theobald of Blois. In particular Stephen, son of Stephen, Count of Blois and Adela, the Conqueror’s daughter, coveted the English throne. He had no English endowment and was landless until he astutely married Matilda (Maud), daughter and heiress of Eustace, Count of Boulogne in 1125, making him the second richest baron in England and Normandy. To complicate matters, Maud’s mother, Mary, was sister of King David I of Scotland and Matilda the Good, first wife of Henry I. In fact, Maud may have been the motivating power behind Stephen, urging him to act after Henry I’s death. A year after Stephen’s marriage, his younger brother, Henry of Blois, became Abbot of Glastonbury and in 1129 also became Bishop of Winchester. Until his death Henry of Blois held the richest abbey and the richest see in the country, making him a very powerful man.

Upon King Henry I’s death in Normandy in 1135, Stephen moved quickly to take the throne. Arriving from Boulogne he bypassed Dover and Canterbury which were shut to him. In London, he gained the support of Geoffrey de Mandeville, Castellan of the Tower of London and then moved to Winchester to secure the government. With the help of his brother, the Bishop of Winchester, he gained the royal treasury, some £100,000, as well as considerable plate and jewellery. He would need this money to finance the coming wars.

Hugh Bigod, steward of the royal household, was bribed to inform the Archbishop of Canterbury that King Henry had disinherited his daughter on his deathbed. Through Henry of Blois the support of the clergy was guaranteed and the majority of barons initially declared for Stephen. Even Pope Innocent II supported his accession. Thus persuaded, the Archbishop of Canterbury crowned Stephen on 26 December 1135.

To secure his position Stephen granted royal rights, titles and lands, but after taking the throne in such a decisive manner, he was to prove a weak king who was neither able to subdue his enemies nor control his allies. He was brave in battle, but this was not enough. One contemporary chronicler described Stephen thus, ‘of outstanding skill in arms, but in other things almost an idiot, except that he was more inclined towards evil’.

It was now that the flaws in the feudal system imposed by William the Conqueror began to show, for, without the complete loyalty of the barons, a king was nothing. Stephen’s reign was to be the most anarchic England has ever seen and has been described as ‘the nineteen long winters when God and his saints slept’. The barons soon looked to themselves, the Exchequer ceased to operate and the sheriffs stopped collecting royal revenues.

Abroad, Empress Matilda and Geoffrey of Anjou agreed to divide Stephen’s possessions, with the Angevins taking Normandy and Matilda England. She had powerful allies who would support her claim: as well as Robert of Gloucester, her half-brother, King David I of Scotland was her maternal uncle. Through his wife’s family, David laid claim to Northumbria, Cumbria and the earldom of Northampton and Huntingdon. He had everything to gain from supporting the empress.

King David acted swiftly, invading northern England in the winter of 1135, occupying the key border strongholds of Carlisle, Wark, Alnwick, Norham and Newcastle. The castles of Wark and Helmsley belonged to Walter Espec, Sheriff of Yorkshire and a royal justice, so he was quick to call for help, but King David’s march south was only stopped by the arrival of Stephen at the head of an army in February 1136. The powerful Robert of Gloucester had paid homage to the new king, probably persuading Stephen that his position was moderately secure in the south.

Stephen’s policy towards the Scots was one of appeasement. An agreement was signed to the effect that David’s son, Prince Henry of Scotland, should take possession of the castles of Doncaster and Carlisle. Also, he should be recognised as the Earl of Huntingdon and Henry’s claim to Northumbria should be recognised in favour of his stepbrother’s (Simon de Senlis’ son, by David’s wife’s first husband). Scotland’s south-western boundary was now fixed at Carlisle and the River Eden. Unfortunately, Stephen’s negotiations while avoiding battle simply convinced David that the English King was a weakling who could be scorned. Ironically, Stephen felt confident that Scottish influence had ended sufficiently to allow the newly fortified castle and town of Carlisle to mint new coins in 1136, possibly to help finance the garrison.

Back in the south, two separate rebellions broke out. Hugh Bigod, unrewarded for his perjury, took the opportunity to take possession of Norwich Castle, while on rumour of Stephen’s death, one of Matilda’s supporters, Baldwin of Redvers, took the opportunity to pillage Exeter and occupy the castle.

Robert of Gloucester, operating from his power base at Bristol, supported Stephen’s campaign against Exeter Castle in 1136. Royal forces, however, refused to prosecute the siege with any vigour. Only after three months did the garrison, now surviving on wine as the well had dried up, finally surrender. Instead of making an example of the rebels as was customary, Stephen let them go unpunished. The message was clear – Stephen the merciful could be taken advantage of.

Across the Channel, when Geoffrey of Anjou moved against Normandy, the Normans called on Stephen’s elder brother, Theobald of Blois. The Norman duchy also declared its allegiance to the English crown. Stephen sailed to the continent in 1137 to secure control of his French domains but the campaign against Geoffrey of Anjou proved to be a complete fiasco. Stephen’s Flemish mercenaries, under the brutal William of Ypres, antagonised their Norman forces to such an extent that his army disintegrated. This again illustrated what a weak leader Stephen was and swallowed up the last of Henry I’s much depleted treasure. The end result was that Normandy was not protected against the Angevin threat and disastrously Stephen could no longer rely on Norman military assistance.

The troublesome Scots, in the meantime, invaded again that year and despite a truce returned once more in January 1138. David was determined to enforce Stephen’s concessions. King Stephen led an army north and ravaged the lowlands to overawe the Scots – at least this was an act his enemies could understand. Then his army, loaded with plunder, shrugged off his control and drifted home. David moved on Newcastle and his nephew William defeated Stephen’s blocking force at Clitheroe in Lancashire.

In light of Stephen’s poor military control, some of the northern barons decided it was time to side with David. During the summer of 1138 the English Baron Eustace Fitz John, with his key castles of Alnwick and Malton, defected. In particular, Alnwick had always served as a vital strategic bulwark against Scottish invasion. Crossing the Tweed, the Scots, up to 22,000 strong and described as a ‘barbarous multitude’, invaded England in the summer of 1138. David was serving his own interests as well as Matilda’s, for he still wanted to get back the shires of Huntington and Northampton, which had been taken during William the Conqueror’s reign.

At the same time, Bristol was in revolt under Robert of Gloucester, with the support of the Constable of Dover. Robert had been alienated by his rivals’ support for the new king and once the Angevin threat had been partially thwarted in 1138–39, he threw his lot in with Empress Matilda. This action ensured that Stephen was tied down in the south. He dared not return north because of the two-pronged threat posed to London and Winchester by Dover and Bristol respectively. Indeed, during 1138 it was his wife, Queen Maud, who oversaw the capture of Dover. All Stephen could do was send Bernard of Balliol with a force of household knights.

The Scots plundered Northumberland and north Yorkshire with such violence that their behaviour was likened to wild beasts, and in Hexham the women were bound and sent back to Scotland as slaves. The man of the moment was Thurstan, the elderly, invalid Archbishop of York. He also held the post of Lieutenant of the North, and as the king’s appointed deputy it was his task to defend the north of England. Thurstan took the novel approach of declaring a Holy War, guaranteeing a flock of volunteers seeking remission for their sins. David had allowed the men of Galloway with their wonton massacres to alienate the allied northern barons, driving them back to Stephen’s cause. They answered Thurstan’s call, including Walter Espec of Helmsley, Sheriff of Yorkshire, William Earl of Albermarle, Robert de Ferrers, William le Gros, Gilbert de Lacy, Roger de Mowbray, William Piercy, de Courcy, Bruce and Balliol. They gathered an army perhaps 10,000 strong.

The Norman feudal military levy now supplemented the old Anglo-Saxon fyrd. On the basis of the Domesday Book, the magnates providing military service to the king were not significant. William the Conqueror relied on less than 200 barons, who supplied a core of at least 4,000 fully equipped knights. The English Church’s military obligations provided another 780 knights, so including peasant levies English armies of this period would have amounted to little more than 15,000 men. Under Stephen the system was weakened by the constantly warring factions and those nobles remaining aloof and seeking to preserve their military resources.

William had relied on kinsmen and trustworthy lieutenants to hold the key military commands, but by the 1100s that bond of loyalty had been eroded. Originally these men had been granted land in return for knight service, although increasingly scutage (tax) allowed those with military obligations to provide money instead, which was used to raise mercenaries. Indeed, Breton, Flemish and Norman mercenaries were to become the scourge of the kingdom. Thus, knight service was subdivided, dissipating the system even more. In many ways the mercenaries were preferable, for under the feudal system a man only had to serve forty days, while hired troops could be contracted for much greater periods. Ironically, Stephen’s troublesome mercenary captain, William of Ypres, proved to be more loyal than many of his baronial vassals.