This Sceptred Isle: Trollheart's History of England

[Trollheart]

Diamond Life: The Death of the Queen 
and the End of an Era

Britain was shocked and plunged into mourning this week* with the news of the death of the only monarch most of them have ever known, as Queen Elizabeth II ended a seventy-year reign on the British throne. She was 96. To be fair, it was big news around the world too, but more a dark footnote before the news networks got on with the more important news. After all, the position of the monarch of Britain has been, for about a hundred years now, largely symbolic and almost completely devoid of any power, a figurehead who rubberstamps the decisions made by his or her government, with little real choice in the matter and hardly any involvement in the running of their country. As a constitutional monarch, Elizabeth was beholden to, even controlled by her Parliament, and the real power in Britain lies, as it has done for a long time now, with the Prime Minister.

So it wasn't like when a president or a serving prime minister dies; sure, it's bad news and everyone is sorry, but life will go on and there is no threat whatever to the running of the country. There will be no battle for the crown, no pretenders or claimants fighting it out, no power vacuum and no policy changes. To be crude about it, all that has happened in real, political terms is that there is a new arse on the throne - a male one, for the first time in seven decades - and Britain has its third king named Charles*. There'll be a state funeral of course, with all the pomp and ceremony you would expect, but when it's over Britain's new Prime Minister, Liz Truss*, will head to Buckingham Palace (if she hasn't done so already) to meet the new king and talk about this and that, then fuck off back to Downing Street to do whatever she wants to do. Apart from getting certain things signed into law, the new king will not figure in the decision-making process as his country faces life under a new monarch and a new Prime Minister, and tries to come to terms with things like the aftermath of Brexit, Covid and the continuing worry of the war in Ukraine. I don't say none of that will bother Charles - I'm sure it will weigh heavily on his mind - but there won't be a thing he can do about it.

Speaking as an Irishman, I can't say I'm sorry Elizabeth is dead. No Irish person really is. She was the symbol of a country that kept us down and occupied us for seven hundred years, who treated us at times like slaves or even animals, and who tried to force their own religion upon us. She was the queen who presided over the illegal internment without trial of IRA prisoners, who watched impassively as Catholics were driven out of Ulster in the 1970s, who remained silent as the Birmingham Six and the Guildford Four were jailed, erroneously and without a shred of actual real evidence, for bombings they had nothing to do with, and who failed to utter a word of apology to these men on their long-delayed release.

However, before I go on, I would like to make one thing very clear. I am not a closet republican, nor do I, or did I ever, support the IRA. Inasmuch as we experienced The Troubles down here in the south - mostly through news reports, the very odd time it came home to use with bombs in Dublin - and as much as, I suppose, in my youth I kind of did want Ireland united, it was and never has been a big issue for me. I recognise fully that the men and women who call themselves the Provisional IRA and who purport to fight for Ireland's independence are, largely, not interested in such an outcome, and are fighting only for that most ancient of motives, money.

There was never a time when reports of IRA bombings on what was colliquially called by us "the mainland" (Britain) were greeted, by me at any rate, with a raised fist, joy and a "Take that you Brits!" No. Even soldiers being blown up is an occasion for both sadness and revulsion, and the more so when it's innocent civilians, be they shoppers, motorists or people in a pub. Nothing excuses that. Nothing. The IRA never conducted their campaign against the British (or indeed, the Loyalists in Northern Ireland), on my behalf, or with my approval, tacit or otherwise. That's a red line I do not cross. Murder is murder, to rather unfortunately quote and with great dislike agree with former Prime Minister, the late Margaret Thatcher, even if she said those words with a different agenda in mind.

On the other hand, the outright murder - summary execution - of IRA members in a carpark in Gibraltar in 1988, while it engendered in me no sympathy for these people who would have surely gone on to commit acts of terrible violence, is not acceptable either. Britain prides itself on its rule of law, British justice, yet was able to see fit to deny three people due process and pronounced them guilty without trial. The fact that their suspicions seem to have been unfounded is further damning evidence of the then-standing operational procedure of the British Army - and by extension Thatcher's government - of a "shoot to kill" policy. Two wrongs don't make a right.

So while I can deplore, and I think rightly, the internment without trial of political prisoners in Northern Ireland, this does not, to my mind, clash with my abhorrence of the deeds perpetrated by these men and women, and my unshakeable belief that they were not freedom fighters, but paid killers. My views, though, were obviously not held by every Irish person.

So you can see why no Irish tears will be shed at the news of her death. It might not in fact be going too far to say that more than one glass might be raised to her in pubs across Ireland, and not to her health. Old enmities die hard, and while our own government has tried to brush the last seven centuries under the carpet and attempt to move forward - which is fair enough, so far as it goes: simmering resentment and hatred in the end get you nowhere, and hold back progress - to paraphrase something said in Game of Thrones, Ireland remembers.

But it's not just us that have good reason to hate her. Her own subjects have hardly been treated well under her reign either. She allowed her country to involve itself in two wars, one in the Falkland Islands and one in Iraq, and made no comment. She was the one who should have spoken up, perhaps, when the full horror of the evil life of Jimmy Savile and the extent of the co-operation and cover-up involved by the institutions of the British media and government came to light, and yet she said nothing. She watched Britain disintegrate under the hardline policies of Margaret Thatcher, and preferred to remain aloof behind the walls of Buckingham Palace. She all but snubbed the death of Princess Diana, turning many of her supporters against her, and the only time she really emerged from behind the walls of the palace was to visit someone or welcome someone to her fortress home, one of her last real involvements with the public being when she whined about Windsor Castle nearly burning down. An edifice, I should point out, that is paid for with British taxpayers' money, and which she would not have to put her hand into the royal pocket to rebuild.

But all of that aside - and it's only so that nobody can call me a hypocrite by writing this - there's no denying that the loss of their queen is a big deal for the British. As I say, most people will only remember her on the throne. They've only ever had one queen, and yes, she's ruled the longest of any monarch in history, including her predecessor who bears her name, and Victoria. But then, what has she had to do to keep her crown? Nothing. What attempts have been made to depose her? None. How many wars has she fought, prosecuted, or prevented? Same answer: none. So what did her "Platinum Jubilee" represent? Seventy years of not dying, basically. Not a great achievement, in my book.

However, as I say, let's push all that to one side. British people are hurting right now*, mourning the loss of their queen, and we should recognise that. And it would be churlish and indeed disingenuous of me, in a journal which catalogues the history of England, not to mark the event. So we need to depart from the timeline, leaving the imminent arrival of William the Conqueror on English shores, and move almost a thousand years into the future, our present, to look back at the life of what is likely to be, for the foreseeable future anyway, Britain's last queen.

April 21 1926 was the date when the baby Elizabeth Alexandra Mary was born into the world, the first daughter of King George VI, though at this time he was only Duke of York, and would not succeed to the throne for another ten years. Somewhat like her sixteenth-century Tudor predecessor, Elizabeth was not expected to reign. There were two in line before her, her own father George and his brother, her uncle, Edward. The latter ascended to the throne first, but a constitutional crisis involving him and a divorced woman became a famous scandal, and led to the first-ever - and to date, only -abdication of a British monarch. George then became king.

George VI would then be king at a time when England, and Britain, faced its darkest days, as Winston Churchill and the Royal Air Force held out against the massed hordes of the German Luftwaffe, prelude to a Nazi invasion of the island, the final bastion of freedom remaining in Europe at the time. It's fair to say George played no real part in that eventual victory, though it would also be fair to say he did give the British people heart through his famous speeches on the radio.

In a similar fashion perhaps to her illustrious ancestor, Victoria, Elizabeth fell in love with a foreigner, Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark, and the relationship was frowned upon. Philip had no financial standing of his own, and links through his sisters to the Nazi party. Despite all this, the two were in love and the marriage took place in 1947, just after the war had ended. Almost exactly a year later the couple had their first child, Charles, who was styled Prince Charles and has just become King Charles III. Two years after his birth he had a sister, Princess Margaret.

From 1951 onwards King George's health was in decline and his daughter often stood in for him in official capacities. When he died in 1953, Elizabeth came to the throne as Queen Elizabeth II on June 2. She began her reign, as her father had ended his, and most of the monarchs before him too, with very little power, but a lot to do. She was the symbol of Britain, and as the new queen it was important she be seen, so she spent most of her time on tour, as it were, becoming the first reigning monarch to visit her territories of Australia and New Zealand, where people went wild, turning out in droves to see her. She ended up being the British monarch who visited the most countries and states in history, but then, with no power to hold onto back home and no threat to her crown, what else was there to do? At the beginning of her reign Elizabeth did retain the power to choose a successor as Prime Minister, and when Anthony Eden resigned over the Suez crisis in 1957 she chose Harold McMillan, though it should be understood this was not a unilateral decision, but made in concert with the Cabinet and the Conservative Party Council. These days, they just decide among themselves and then go to the palace to get her royal seal, but the deal has been done long before they walk through the royal gates.

In 1960 Elizabeth gave birth to her third child, Andrew, and four years later Edward joined the family. It's true to say that Elizabeth presided over the disintegration of the British Empire, though she had no control over events. People who had sworn - or been made or compelled to swear - allegiance to the British crown now wanted their independence, and African and Caribbean countries began to sue for self-governance, so that by about 1978 there was little left of what was now termed "the British Commonwealth". Despite celebrating her silver jubilee in 1977, things were not rosey in the garden. A communist spy was discovered to have been operating almost literally under the royal nose, as Surveyor of the Queen's Pictures Anthony Blunt was tried for treason but for some reason which I'm not going to research now was granted immunity from prosecution. Elizabeth did however strip him of his knighthood. That same year she had to deal with the death of Lord Henry Mountbatten, killed when a bomb planted by the IRA on his boat exploded.

In 1981 she was herself the victim of an attempted assassination, though apparently the bullets used were blanks (why would you bother? Honestly?) and again when she visited New Zealand later that year. This time the bullets were real, but the marksmanship was not. The would-be assassin missed, and after being sentenced to three years in an asylum escaped and tried to do for the future King of Britain too when he planned to shoot down Prince Charles. Evidence of the lack of influence the Queen had over other heads of state, and indeed quite likely the lack of power Britain had to resist the USA, came in 1983 when then-President Ronald Reagan ordered the invasion of Grenada, one of her commonwealth possessions, without informing her. Okay, the Canadian Prime Minister of the time claimed she was a "behind the scenes force" in ending the apartheid regime in South Africa. I don't know how much of that is true and how much is spin, but if more true than not, then I guess you have to give that one to her. How exactly she achieved such an object is a matter of speculation though.

During the 1980s the amount of esteem the public, or at least the tabloid newspapers, held the royal family in became apparent, as every other day brought headlines of scandal within the palace - real or made up, it really didn't seem to matter; Britons will believe what they read in The Sun or The Star or The Mirror as easily and with as little investigation or challenge as Americans will believe Fox News -and the whole thing became a sort of living soap opera. Not that every story was made up, or that the royal family did not give fuel for the fire, with Princess Anne divorcing her husband, Prince Andrew separating from his wife, and finally Prince Charles kicking Diana to the kerb. The institution that had once been viewed with awe, respect and fear and later at least reverence and regard became one of ridicule and gossip. Like the part of Windsor Castle destroyed by fire in 1992, leading her to describe the year as her anus horribilis- wait, what? Oh sorry: that should read annus horribilis - horrible year, the reputation of and regard for the monarchy was beginning to burn down. People began to question why they were being taxed to pay the enormous salaries of these people who basically did nothing and lived off their backs? An underswell of republican sentiment began to rumble through this green and pleasant land, and while they weren't exactly rolling guillotines out into Leicester Square, people were far from happy with their rulers.


In her travels, Elizabeth scored many firsts. She was the first reigning British monarch to visit China, the first to go to Russia, but when she made a trip to India old enmities boiled over into protest, particularly at the site of the Amritsar Massacre, where hundreds or possibly thousands of peaceful protesters were slaughtered by the British Indian Army in 1919. In 1997, the same year she visited India, Princess Diana, now divorced from her son, was killed in a high-speed car chase. Despite having a state funeral, the silence of the Queen after the funeral and the refusal to fly a flag at half-mast over the palace gained her public condemnation. It was perceived that she was treating her late, divorced daughter-in-law coldly and that she no longer really wished her to be associated with the royal family. Whatever the truth - or not - of that, the Queen's reputation suffered because of it, and she was forced to make a public address to state her position and appear more warm and maternal towards the late princess. In some ways, people never forgave her for this. They may have loved their Queen, but they loved Diana much more, and to see her, or perceive her being snubbed in such a way cut to the heart of British outrage. To a large degree, the Queen's reputation never recovered from this.

In 2011, to much protest, none of which was listened to by our government, Elizabeth made the first state visit of a British monarch to Ireland. Well, the first of one who didn't want to crush, convert, invade or kill us, or all four. Prince Philip died in 2021, and unlike her government (and ours) Elizabeth strictly observed Covid-19 protocols, attending his funeral alone. You have to give her credit for that. Elizabeth celebrated her Platinum Jubilee in February of this year, marking seventy years on the throne, the longest of any reigning British monarch. Britain had only just got over all the pomp, excitement and pageantry when they were suddenly dealing with her passing, as the Queen became ill on September 8* and died hours later. No cause was given, though Her Majesty had been in poor health for some time, cancelling engagements and curtailing her traditional state visits. She had also contracted Covid, though this was not said to have played any part in her illness. Then again, she was ninety-six, so her age would not have helped towards any sort of full recovery.

On the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, her son and heir, Charles, formerly Prince Charles, has become King Charles III and is officially crowned since today* as the new King of Britain. For the first time in seventy years, Britain has a male monarch on the throne. Charles accedes to the throne at age of seventy-three, (surely the oldest monarch to do so?) but he has his own heir in his son William, Duke of Cambridge and now Duke of Cornwall (I don't know if one title supersedes the other, or if he holds both). To the best of my knowledge (and it's not great on the recent British monarchy) I think Charles' consort, Camilla Parker Bowles, now officially Queen Camilla, is the first "commoner" to sit beside a King of Britain, as in, she has no title, or had none before marrying Charles. What the British people think of that, I can only guess at.

The official state funeral for Queen Elizabeth II takes place on Monday, September 19* at Westminster Abbey. Until then, ten days of mourning have been proclaimed throughout Britain, but what that means officially I have no clue, as businesses, public services, sports fixtures and public venues have been told they are under no obligation to close, nor are banks, or anywhere, really, other than royal residences.

It just remains, then, for me to offer my condolences to the people of Great Britain and the Commonwealth, and to place the full stop at what is certainly, for most people, the end of an era.

* At time of writing.

[Trollheart]

Part Two: The Fallen Crown: New World Rising

"No-one would have believed, in the sixth decade of the eleventh century, that English affairs were being watched from the shores of France. Few men even considered the possibility of an attack by the Vikings. And yet, across the English Channel, military minds immeasurably superior to theirs watched that island with envious eyes, and slowly, and surely, they drew their plans against them."

(With apologies to H.G. Wells and Jeff Wayne)

Chapter I: Under the French Heel, Part One
Ruled Britannia: The Third, and Final,  Conquest of Britain

If there is one date, or at least one year every school kid in Britain knows, it's 1066. That was, of course, the year of the famous Battle of Hastings, in which not only English but European life changed forever. The Crown of Wessex, as already detailed the last time we stepped into the history of England, had fallen, and though for a short time others such as the House of Godwin and the House of Denmark carried on, there was about to be a seismic event which would change English politics, policy and the lives of every Englishman and Englishwoman, and in the process both give rise to an enduring hero of legend, and more practically, change the shape of Europe, and even further afield, leaving its mark on the western world for all time. In some ways, you could say that though the Vikings failed to conquer Britain in the eighth and ninth centuries, they did eventually manage it, and more completely than they could ever have hoped to do. By then, though, they had settled in France and become known by another name: the Normans.

The future Kings of England, who would rule unopposed in pretty much an unbroken line for another six hundred years, traced their claim to the throne back to a - mostly disputed, never proven - promise that William, Duke of Normandy,  would be made king on the death of Edward, an assurance supposedly given by Harold Godwinson, who then tried the throne out for size and thought "You know, this ain't bad. Fuck that William. May I may be shot through the eye with an arrow before any damned frog sits on this throne!" Right. Anyway, you've read about that in the previous chapter, haven't you? But before we get to that broken (if ever made) promise and what it meant for England, and wider Europe, just who the damned hell were these Normans? Oh, glad you asked.

Pirates to Princes: The Rise of the Normans

As everyone knows, and as I've already told you, the Normans were the descendants of those jolly old folk, everyone's favourite raiders, five stars in Rape and Pillage Monthly and beloved of shipwrights, the Vikings. Having somewhat failed to hammer down the English like their poster boy, Thor, god of thunder, the Vikings had, in the early tenth century, decided to seek easier pickings to the east. Not very far east, just a hop over the English Channel where they said "Bonjour! Vous est morte!" or something and began harrying the French. They could not have really been expecting an easy conquest, and Vikings generally went where they thought they could pick a decent fight. True, if they could just slaughter and carry off treasure, then that was sehr gut, or something, and Lindisfarne and other monasteries along the coast of England provided them with little to no resistance. But Vikings were at heart warriors, and there's nothing really brave or particularly honourable about slaying men who wore dresses and shrieked like girls from the barest flesh wound, a simple cut deep into the shoulder and through bone, the kind of thing no self-respecting Viking would allow him to stop raping, pillaging and plundering to take care of. Doctor? What's that?

In France, they got the fight they had been craving. Many of them, in fact. Although they folded like umbrellas a millennium later when Hitler's wehrmacht rolled over Europe, at this time there were few fighting machines like the French one, and one thing they loved to do was defend their towns and cities, especially the jewel of la belle france. So when heavily-armed Vikings came sailing up the Seine, they shouted "Non!" and gave them what for. So much so, in fact, that really, the Vikings never managed to conquer France, and had to end up settling there with the permission of the French king. And most of that was probably down to these two.

Odo (857 - 898)

You've got to love the French. They had three kings, all succeeding one another, all called Charles, so rather than give them numerals, as later became the trend, they identified them by their, ah, characteristics. So we had Charles the Bald being succeeded by Charles the Simple and then Charles the Fat. Oh, and there was also Hugh the Abbot, who was, well, an abbot. Of course he was. Was there a Charles the Costello? No of course there wasn't; don't be silly. Okay, he was never king, just regent. Oh, and Odo's father was Robert the Strong. And for you Star Trek fans, no, he wasn't called Odo the Shapeshifter. Wrong journal. Originally the Count of Paris, he was crowned king after the Siege of the capital, in which he drove back the Viking invaders.

The Siege of Paris (885 - 886)

It should probably be understood that at this time the Kingdom of Francia was not France, but was in fact the territory of the Franks, and encompassed what would become France, also Germany and part of Italy. Most, in fact, so far as I can see, of Western Europe, with the exception of Spain and Portugal. In 843 West Francia became a separate kingdom, which would evolve in time into France, and Paris was its capital city. In 845 the Vikings reached Paris for the first time, and attacked it, eventually sacking the city. How they carried a whole city away in sacks is something historians still debate to this day, but the French (we'll just call them that for handiness' sake, all right? I know they were the West Francians or Franks or whatever, but this is easier) decided that the Seine was too easy a conduit for those big longships to sail up and menace their beloved capital, so Odo's father, Robert the Strong, started having bridges built across the river, thus impeding Viking progress up the Seine and also making of them something of a target.

When Robert fell in battle in 866, his son Odo was made Count of Paris, and when Charles the Bald died in 877 he was succeeded by the other Charles, the fat one, who had barely had time to get comfortable on the throne before those annoying Vikings were back, shouting and halloooing and attacking up the river again. This time though, they meant business, and they weren't going to be driven away by a few poxy bridges. Some say they had 700 ships, but those who hadn't drunk too much wine thought it more like 300, still a big fleet and sure to put the willies up any Frenchman seeing them sailing up the Seine, shouting and hallooing and, you know.

As Count of Paris, Odo undertook the city's defence, and though outnumbered (even 300 ships would have carried about 15,000 men, and he had barely 200 at his command) he managed to drive them back. The Vikings had by now settled on a form of protection racket, where they arrived in a town or city and promised not to burn it to the ground and kill every living soul if they were paid off. It was called tribute back then, but it's the same principle as "ooops! Now look what you made me do!" that helped gangs to terrorise shop-keepers in the next few centuries. Anyway, Odo told them where they could stick their requests for a payoff, and possibly after enquiring whether he had anything to do with the All-Father, his name being so similar and all, and if so, could he put in a good word with Odin to aid them in their quest to burn Paris to the ground, the Vikings withdrew and set up a siege.

They mined the river (how did they work if they were on it? Oh right: they had camped on the other side of it. Still, they'd have to go out on it if they wanted to renew their attack. Seems a little self-destructive, possibly literally so). Hold on just one wench-chasing, axe-wielding, tankard-emptying minute son! How did they mine? This was the 9th century! What kind of explosives were available in the 9th century? I'll tell you what kind: none. But the account just says they mined the river, so who am I to question? Though I do. Get no answer to my question however. Bloody typical. Anyway, they used siege engines, catapults and sneering sarcasm probably, but nothing would induce the French to surrender. The city was probably unable to support a bribe, not when they had a king called Charles the Fat, and also knew what happened to those who gave in to the Vikings. So they fought on. The Vikings used battering rams and fire, but the French had a secret weapon: a cross! Yes, the Bishop of Paris planted a crucifix in the outer defences and called on all Christian men to resist the heathen invader. That'd show 'em!

The siege continued on into Christmas and the New Year, the Vikings trying everything to gain access, including shoring up the shallow part of the river with dead bodies (kind of lends new meaning to "close the wall up with our English dead", doesn't it?) but to no avail. They even had a shot at sending burning ships - the dreaded "fireships" - against the wooden bridge, but the damn things sank before they reached the structure, thanks Olaf the Lazy Shipwright! Odin, however, must have been bored, because he took an interest and sent rain that swelled the river and wrecked the bridge. Down it came and in came the Vikings. Go for it, lads! And they did. Seeing their plight was now somewhat up a certain creek without a certain instrument, Odo sent men to Charles, looking for reinforcements. They arrived, but after marching from Germany were too shagged to do any fighting, and sat down for a breather, no doubt to the massed mocking laughter of men who had wrestled ice giants in legend and drank the ocean possibly.

However, they weren't laughing by April, when one of the leaders declared "Fuck this lads, I'm bollocksed with all this sieging. Vikings weren't meant to siege. In and out, hit 'em fast and hard, fuck off back home, that's for me. Hell with this. Who wants their city anyway? Only full of pox-ridden whores, mimes and snooty Frenchmen. I don't really fancy eating frog's legs for the rest of my life, do you?" And with that, he was gone. But it wasn't all roses for the French either. As it tends to do when food runs low and sanitation is at best basic, disease began to break out in the city and the poor old bishop snuffed it. Odo decided to head to Old Fatso's palace, asking for more help. Charles' attendants looked on with horror as the big fat bastard agreed, envisioning the block and tackle and sheer disregard for physics it was going to take to get the king on his horse (his horse would not have been too pleased either) but somehow they managed it and off they went. They attacked and fought their way into the city, turned and mounted its defence.

Realising, as fresh armies arrived in the summer, that there was no way they were getting into Paris without wearing a tie and being on the guest list, the remaining Viking leader, Rollo, of whom we will hear more presently, gave up and, allowed by the king to head up the Seine to attack Burgundy - a handy way of putting down a pesky revolt that had erupted there - he eventually paid him off, (Odo possibly thinking "what the fuck did you do that for? I could have paid him and saved all those lives but I didn't, and now you just fork over the cash? Just wait till I'm king you fat...") but either way, the important thing was that the almost year-long siege was over. And more importantly, Paris had not fallen.

As part of the story of how Odo then became king, it's amusing to chronicle what happened to Charles the Fat. After he paid off the Vikings he was persona non grata (or possibly persona gras, sorry) in the capital, and fell out of favour. When he tried to have his bastard son Bernard made the legitimate heir to the throne in 885, the bishops, to a man, said oh no you fucking don't pal. No fat bastard - excuse our French - will sit on the throne of France while we have breath in our bodies. Unfortunately for them, their boss, Pope Hadrian III, declared that he would recognise the kid, and as long as he had breath in his body nobody would dare to defy him. Then suddenly he had no breath in his body, as, on the way to sort out the bishops and proclaim Bernard the Bastard as the new king, he sort of died (doesn't say whether this was of natural causes, an accident or whether some disgruntled bishop slipped deadly nightshade into his wine or something) and put a real crimp in Charles' plans. Would it be unfair and unkind to mention he was on the way to Worms, but before he got there ended up as future food for worms? It would? Tough. You should know me by now, and if you still don't then just get used to it: this is how I roll.

[Trollheart]

Trolls, I haven't read the whole thing obviously so correct me if you've already answered this, but why have you referred to England as an 'Isle' in the title and why have you used the Union Jack as the flag?

Hmm. Isle because it's an island (well, Britain is) and I'm also quoting some unremarkable and forgotten poet called Shakespeare on it.

"This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England."
Richard II, Act 2, Scene 1

Also, "this sceptred isle - apart from to the north and that bit on the west, think they call it Wales" doesn't hang the same ring to it.

The Union Jack just more or less stands for the English flag, though I know you'll correct me and tell me it's the British flag. Meh, it just looks better. I know it should be the flag of St. George or whatever; just allow me my little bit of artistic licence, if you will.

Hopefully you will read this journal though, cos your country's history is fucking fascinating, and I'm really enjoying researching it.

[Trollheart]

Another who supported the legitimisation of Bernard was a Benedictine monk called Notker the Stammerer, but nobody paid him any attention, as you could never tell what he was saying. In fact (drum roll) you could say that they did Not ker about his views! Ba-tish! Yeah, well anyway, Charles continued to try to circumvent the fact that he had no actual legitimate children by attempting to cook the books, inserting the word proles (offspring) into the charters, but nobody was fooled. Specially as he did it in blue biro possibly. He then chummed up to Hadrian's successor, Pope Stephen V, but though he agreed to meet him the new pope pulled out at the last minute, possibly claiming he was washing his cassock or something. Charles then plumped for adoption, making Louis of Provence his heir for some reason, but Pope Stephen wagged his finger and said no way pal, not blessing that line of succession!

All this bumbling and fumbling around, trying desperately to get someone to carry on your dynasty, from a man who had never been a great king anyway (well, great in the sense of being fat, but it's widely reported most if not all of his crowns fell to him without any real effort, and he never waged any proper war or got his nose bloodied like any self-respecting monarch) people began to look elsewhere for an heir. Odo headed down to his palace in 887, and may have been confirmed heir there. Either way, there was trouble a-plenty at Chez Charles, as he first accused his wife of infidelity. Having proven her innocence through trial by fire, she quite rightly told him where he could stick it and sodded off to a nunnery. Then he pounced on his hated enemy, Liutward his archchancellor, first minister and also bishop of Vercelli, with whom he had accused his - now proven innocent and convent-bound - wife of having an affair. Nobody liked him, so it was not any hardship to kick his ass out of court. Which he did. Probably with relish. He then replaced him with Liutbert, which really makes me think it was just the archchancellor wearing a funny wig. I mean, come on!

Proof that he was either desperate or losing it, or both, surfaces when you realise that Louis II, Louis of Provence, whom he wished now to make his heir, was, well, blind, as evidenced by that quaint French custom of naming someone after their main trait, so he was called Louis the Blind. Blind drunk? No, just blind. I wonder what they would have called me? Trollheart the Arsehole, probably. Anyway I digress. Adding to old Fat Boy's woes, one of his nephews decided he fancied the throne and went to war against him. History doesn't record what happened, but it probably involved a lot of huffing and puffing on Charles' part, a sort of "hold on till I get my breath, would you, there's a good lad" and stuff like that. In the end, to nobody's surprise, and probably not even his own, he was deposed, and that was that.

His fall wrecked the Frankish empire, as claimants and challengers to this and that throne popped up all over the place, and the empire disintegrated into separate kingdoms and countries, one of which became West Francia and later France. Which brings us back to our mate Odo.

Elected as the new king of that new country, he went about tearing the Vikings a new one, but as ever, heavy rests the head or something, and yet another Charles wanted to be king. Simple. Yeah. Charles the Simple. Doesn't sound like the kind of guy you want sitting on the throne, does it? I don't know if his title meant simple in the way of the brain, or that he was an uncomplicated man. Tell you what: let's find out, shall we? Well he was also called Charles the Straightforward, so I think we're looking more at a sort of direct, Meerkat Market sort of simple than the drooling, idiotic smile variety. Charles is however important, so we will come back to him very shortly. Meanwhile, Odo was crowned in 888 and would rule for ten years, though as I say his reign would be marred by his struggle against Charles.

In fact, I can't see that he had that great a time after saving Paris. He ended up looking for the support of the king of East Francia, Arnulf, but he must have insulted his wife or his wine or something (Frenchman, more likely the wine) as Arnulf instead threw his lot in with Charles, and Odo was forced to concede territory on the Seine to him. He had battled Arnulf for three years, and on the fourth he died, in 898. That left the throne Charles' for the taking. And he took.


Charles III, Charles the Simple (879 - 929)

We've already spoken a little about him above, but here are some more funny facts. He was preceded by - wait for this - Louis the Child, who wasn't a child. Though he was when he ascended the throne - probably with a bit of a bump-up from someone; he was only six, and died at eighteen. What a bummer. What did he die of? He died of a Tuesday. No, seriously, let's see. Died of terminal depression, it says here. Wow. If an eighteen-year old king can die of depression, how many of his subjects must have kicked the bucket? Anyway enough about him, as he's really not important except for me to point a finger and laugh at. Back to Charles the Simple. His dad was another stammerer, Louis the Stammerer - was he king? Yes. Yes he was, and by all accounts, though not a man to make waves or any impact of any sort, you kind of can't argue with the words of Herman Munster, sorry Sebastian Munster that  "he was a sweet and simple man, a lover of peace, justice and religion."

Oh for the love of - another child! This time Charles the Child, whom Louis succeeded as King of Aquitaine. He also died at age 18, though not from depression, unless you count being depressed by having been hit in the head by a sword while fooling around in mock combat with your own men! The incident left him a little doolally, and he passed away in 866. But as for Charles the Simple, well, he was destined to make his mark on history. Hey, at least he had a mother with a decent name - Adelaide of Paris, because, you know, she was from Paris. In the year 911 (shut up) Paris was again besieged, and again by Rollo, who had come back to finish the job. After Charles had kicked his arse he decided to negotiate with Rollo, and granted him all the land between the river Epte and the sea, and the Duchy of Brittany, naming it all as the new Duchy of, you guessed it, Normandy. Anyone singing "Pass the Dutchie" can leave right now, I'm serious. We don't need your kind here. Where was I? Oh yeah.  In return for this grant, Rollo and all his men were to swear fealty to France, and he himself was to be baptised as a Christian and take Charles' daughter Gisela as his wife.

It was quite clever of Charles to grant Rollo and the Vikings-soon-to-be-Normans the Duchy of Brittany (yeah, you can go too. You! The one singing "Hit Me Baby One More Time"! Out!), as this was at the time an independent kingdom he had been trying without success to conquer. Now all he had to do was sit back and let his new Viking/Norman allies conquer it for him. Well, for them, but it amounted to the same thing. That year, 911,  is also the one in which our friend Louis the Child comes, briefly, back into the picture. With his death, the East Francians elected him king, as they didn't fancy Conrad I. Well, this is not quite true. Bloody fragmented kingdoms within fragmented kingdoms! Right. Lotharingia was part of East Francia, and they were the ones who elected Charles their king, but essentially saw him as king of all East Francia. This didn't bother Conrad too much, not because he didn't care but because he was too busy fighting off claims to his throne, and not only from Charles, but within his own kingdom. So in one way - probably a very wrong way - you could make a very tentative case for Charles the Simple, being technically but not really king of both East and West Francia as being the first actual king of all of France. But you'd be wrong. Also it didn't last. After Conrad kicked it, it looks like Saxons or some form of Germans anyway took East Francia, and it then either became Germany or was subsumed into it.

Despite six tries, our Charles just couldn't muster up a son - daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter... hold on, hold on! Could it be? Is it poss - nah. Another daughter - so like kings everywhere at that time he blamed it on his wife and dumped her to marry another woman, this time the daughter of an English king. English gels knew how to do it right, and out popped an heir, first time of asking. Jolly good show! This boy would go on to rule as Louis IV, but I don't think he was one of the Bourbon dynasty kings, the likes of Louis the Sun King XIV and zut alors! Where's me head Louis XVII, and since I'm not writing the history of France (yet!) I don't really care.

A sad end really for Charles. His own brother Robert marched against him, with the backing of the nobles who had really got pissed off at him for doling out land that was theirs by right, and though Robert was killed in the ensuing battle, Charles was captured and died in prison in 921. Not a very fitting way to end your reign, even if it was a simple one.

But one thing Charles would always be remembered for was for the basic creation of the Norman state, which would go on to cause such misery and hardship in England (and, by extension, Ireland, Scotland and Wales) but which would also fundamentally change Europe and most of the western world.

[Trollheart]

Rollo (c. 835/87- - 928/933)

All right, let's just get this out of the way, for those of you who have seen Vikings and think "Oh yeah, that's Ragnar's brother!" He wasn't. At least, so far as history can ascertain (and you can see from the dates of his birth and death that there's not even agreement on those), Ragnar may or may not have lived (I think I went into this earlier, pretty sure I did) but if he did, he wasn't around at the same time Rollo was. Rollo can be definitely traced to a proper historical figure though, and so we have a lot more certainty about him than we do about Ragnar. Some facts about him that Vikings got right are that he was a giant of a man, nicknamed "The Walker", as it was said he was too big for any horse to carry, that he did attack Paris (as we've seen above) and was the father of the Norman dynasties. He also contributed to the history of England in a way which will link us back to 1066, if you'll just bear with me.

But to understand the Normans, and why they so easily defeated the English at Hastings, as I said, we have to know more about them, and it starts with Rollo. We've already seen a pencil sketch of him; we know he was a Viking lord who changed tactics from harrying the English to harrying the French (no doubt to a great big "huzzah!" from the English, one they would live to very much retract and regret) and that he besieged Paris. Unable to take it he came to a compromise with Charles the Fat and settled in the area of France (well, West Francia as it was known at the time) which came to be known as Normandy. But they're only the barest bones, so let's put the flesh on this skeleton.

Although he is definitely believed to have come from Scandinavia (duh, historians!) nobody can say for sure if it was Norway or Denmark where he was born. He was referred to as "Rollo the Dane", but then, Dane was a general catch-all label for all Vikings that Europeans used, regardless of their country of birth (which they were unlikely to have known anyway; it's not like they would ask, as they fended off a blow from a huge axe with a shield, "By the way, where was it you said you came from again?") so that's no proof of anything. There does seem to be evidence to suggest he was chased, harried out of or exiled from Scandinavia though, and the first time contemporary history picks him up is attacking Paris in that siege. There are other accounts, but you know historians: two or three corroborating sources at least please, or we're not interested.

So whatever he did before arriving on the shores of France is mostly unknown, and kind of unimportant anyway, as it is really from the time he became a Norman - the first, you could say - that we're interested in him. So what happened after Charles said to him "That bit there, down to there, that bit, that, you might have to fight for that bit, they don't like me and I haven't been able to subdue them but I'm sure you could. Oh, and that bit too. But not that one. That's mine."? We know Rollo was baptised and became a Christian, and that he then took the daughter of the king for his wife. Before this, there is an account of him carrying off the daughter of the Count of Rennes (well, what self-respecting Viking - still a Viking at this point, 876 - wouldn't carry off a beautiful woman? Went with the territory) and marrying her, she giving him a son, but our friendly historians believe this may be what they term "quasi-bollocks", meaning it might or might not be true, depending on how many rounds you're prepared to buy.

Stories, too, of his friendship with an English king, originally identified as Alstem, later seemingly confirmed as Athelstan, (look, just don't start, all right? The things that show got wrong...) the Danish leader Guthrun whom Alfred the Great baptised and then renamed. Again, this could be true or just "qb", and again it really doesn't matter, because dial the emergency services or stand outside Ground Zero: 911 is the year we're most interested in, as this becomes Year Zero for the creation of the Norman State.

Once the lands had been granted to him, Rollo (now baptised as Robert, but it doesn't seem like he's ever referred to as anything other than Rollo) decided it was time to put manners on the other Vikings in France and show them who was boss. When Charles the Simple was kicked off the throne though, Rollo thought his deal was over, and so it was hell for leather across West Francia as he pushed the borders of his new realm outwards. Eventually the new king sued for peace, giving Rollo more land. Because of their close connection with the native French, Rollo's descendants clove to the Catholic tradition, one of many reasons why England would become, for almost four hundred years, a Catholic country.

Rollo died, cause unknown, sometime between 923 and 928. His great-great-grandson was called William, and this is where we return, as it were, by a circuitous route, to the end of English rule and the coming of the Normans to England in 1066.

But of course, it wouldn't be like me to just go for Hastings now would it? Of course not. First we need to talk about himself.



William I, aka William the Conqueror (1028 - 1087)

The man who would change English politics and start a dynasty that would last centuries lost his father early, when the Duke of Normandy, Robert I (also known humbly as Robert the Magnificent) died on the way back from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1035. Before departing, Robert had declared William his heir, and extracted from all his nobles a promise to uphold his claim, therefore WIlliam became Duke on the death of his father at the tender age of seven years. There's no such thing, so far as I know, as a regent for a duke, so though he was far too young to rule, William had to take on the job. He did however have allies, in Archbishop Robert, his great-uncle, and the king himself, Henry I. Things took a turn for the worse though when Robert died in 1037, and the duchy descended into anarchy.

William fell under the protection of various guardians, including Alan of Brittany and Gilbert of Brionne, and others, all summarily slain as the young duke's enemies tried to get to him. He eventually had to seek the protection of the king, but when grown he returned with him in 1047 and retook Normandy, defeating his enemies. He spent five years hunting them down and consolidating his power, but then that power became just a little too consolidated for the king's liking, and, fearing the power the young duke was building up in Normandy, Henry teamed up with his enemies against William. William proved himself an able commander and a charismatic leader, resulting in some of his former enemies joining him against Henry (turnabout is, after all, fair play) and his battle finally came to an end when both the king and his main ally Geoffrey of Anjou died in 1060.

In 1049 William had married Matilda of Flanders, cementing his alliance with Germany, though His Holiness Pope Leo IX, for some reason, refused to allow the marriage. He went ahead anyway, sort of taking a future page from one of his successors, Henry VIII, though he stopped short of creating his own Church.

Eve of the, um, Battle

It's always struck me as odd that a simple duke should decide to invade England. Was this not the prerogative of the king? Was it not kings who invaded and tried to take crowns from other kings? I suppose it's quite possible that if you look through history there have been some instances of other nobles invading foreign countries, but I would have thought that would have been a prelude to their king coming over and sitting on the throne? Did the French king give his blessing to, or even permission for, such a huge and potentially world-changing action? Who was even king at this time? Let's see. Hmm. Philip I is shown as being "king of the Franks" but there's no reference to his being involved in William's campaign. I suppose it's possible he had other things to worry about. William probably didn't feel he owed him any real fealty anyway, as Normandy was essentially all but a separate state, and powerful, so maybe Philip just let him go his own way. I'll try to research that a bit further later, because I find it strange. Would, for instance, say maybe Cnut or Alfred the Great allowed one of their dukes or barons to boogie over to France and try to take the crown? Sounds unlikely.

Then again, perhaps given the story that William had been promised the English crown, his boss thought maybe it gave him that right. Perhaps Philip was too busy fighting (or, considering his suffix, "the amorous", engaged in other activities) and just said "Sure if he promised ye the crown, you go and take it like a good man there, and leave me alone." Why he should have suddenly gained a Dublin accent we will never know. But there is no mention of him, whether he approved, disapproved or was totally oblivious to the ambitions of the Duke of Normandy, and it does appear, on the surface anyway, that he just left him to it.

Winding our way across the Channel and back to Merry Old England, it will possibly be remembered that we left the country in a state very much other than merry, as King Harold Godwinson was somewhat less than secure on the English throne, having in total three claimants to the Crown, one of which was his own half-brother. Four, in fact, if you include Edward Atheling, though he was only fourteen at the time. Tostig, the other brother, had been exiled, and we'll have a shufty at him in a moment. The third claimant, as already discussed in the previous chapter, was the king of Norway, Harold Bastard Hard, I mean Harold Hardrada. He had made an agreement with his uncle, King Magnus, that should Harthacnut die without an heir, then his son would take the crown, but should Magnus do the same, then his heir would be next in line for the throne.

It's been almost a year, and I'm getting a little confused, so let's recap on all these people and sort things out before we go any further.

First, Harthacnut: as everyone knows (and if you didn't know, then you would from his name) he was the son of Cnut, one of the wisest and longest-reigning kings of England, and the first ever Viking one. Harthacnut succeeded to the throne on the death of his half-brother Harold Harefoot, who had come to power after the great Cnut had passed away, he being his son by Aelfgifu, and Harthcnut being busy with trying to establish control in Norway. When Harold died, Harthacnut returned and took the throne, but only lasted seven years, dying, it appears, of terminal alcohol poisoning at a wedding.

Next up was Edward the Confessor, and he died childless, having decided to take a vow of chastity, which kind of threw the succession into chaos. They really needn't have worried, as William was on his way to sort out all their problems for them and take away forever the burden of ruling England. But anyway it was his brother, son of the late great Earl Godwin, and last of the Anglo-Saxon kings, did he but know it, Harold II, known as Harold Godwinson, who became his heir. Harold had to fight off an attempt by his namesake with different spelling, King Harald of Norway, then, having kicked his arse, may have thought, this French William will be a piece of cake. Shoot out my eye if - oh wait: I've done that one, haven't I?

So for whatever reason he was allowed, ignored or just went anyway, William decided the time was ripe to cash in on that "IOU 1 crowne of ye Englishe" and headed west, with a rather large army. His wife may have complained about not wanting to live in such a miserable rainy country, but history records his reply as "I'll give you miserable, you moaning old..." (the rest of the manuscript has sadly been lost to the ravages of time) and Hastings-bound he came.

[jimmy jazz]

Well I disagree with it obviously (and plenty of Welsh and Scots would too), it's part of an island but it's your journal. It just stood out to me cos that and the flag are pretty significant bits of information given the subject of the journal.

I will give it a read mate 👍

[Trollheart]

You can disagree with me but not with the Bard!   
I definitely take your point about the flag, though it's probably fair to say that those who aren't Welsh, Scottish or even Irish just look on the UJ as being the English flag, right or wrong.

[Trollheart]

Back to Harald we go. No, the other one. When he came over from Norway to kick the son of the Earl of Godwin (Godwinson, get it?) off the just-vacant English throne, he brought with him another enemy of the then-king, but paradoxically also a claimant, so not quite sure how that worked. Tostig has already been mentioned, Harold's brother whom he exiled from England, but who believed he jolly well had just as much a right to the crown as his sibling, dash it all, and decided to support the Norwegian king, perhaps in the hope he might be granted a duchy or a baronetcy or some damn title with a lot of land anyway. Okay, let's unpack this.

Tostig had come with his army to take the throne but had been driven off by his brother, and instead decided to head north, where there were always arses to kick. Unfortunately, these arses kicked back, so to speak, and Tostig was harried by the Earls of Mercia and Northumbria, and he lost most of his men. He decided to go to Scotland and lick his wounds, and maybe see if he couldn't scare up some support there. The Scots were always on for a fight, after all, and there was little they hated more than the English. Of course, he was English too, so there was that. As it went, King Harald, the Norwegian one, was cooling his heels on the south coast, looking at his watch and wondering where the hell this WIlliam character was, said to meet him on the south coast 1066, and here it was and no sign of him. It was then that his men came to him and said "Look Your Majesty, we'd love to stay and die horribly in your service, get mutilated and maimed for life all to get you this throne your heart seems set on, but the thing is, we're militia, see, and, well, we have these crops that need to be harvested." So off they went to return to a much safer life as farmers (unless you happened to get in the way of the local lord, who might just that morning have arisen with an insatiable desire to mow down farmers, the things these lords get up to, I don't know) and Harald was kind of left armyless.

So he moseyed on up north, which seemed to be the in-place to go, where he met a rather despondent Tostig. "How many men you got?" he asked him possibly over a few pints of good dark ale (or, being the north, possibly grey ale, and also possibly not good). "Not much," belched Harald maybe. "A mere 300 ships, no more than 15,000 men." Tostig may have grinned and the two may even have clinked glasses, who knows? "That'll do for me," it's possible Tostig may have said, having perhaps spent too long among northerners, and so they banded together and went to kick the king out of the royal palace. As for William, well, Harald may have thought philosophically, he may turn up, he may not, but this guy has an army here and now, and I'll be buggered if I'm spending another season pulling my dick in this cold climate waiting for him.

At York, at the end of September, Tostig was able to have his revenge on the two earls, whom he and his new ally sent running like girls maybe as they roundly defeated them at the Battle of Fulford. Had they waited for Harold Godwinson, who had texted ahead saying there was heavy traffic on the A40 maybe, they might have triumphed, but as ever in English politics (and not just English of course) nobody trusted anybody else, and the two earls thought maybe Harold would set Tostig up as Earl of Northumbria. The other earl, Edwin of Mercia, may have shrugged that that would suck, but what had it to do with him, and may have been answered by the reminder that there was also a Norwegian bastard involved, who might fancy Edwin's earldom. So stung into action, the two decided fuck Harold, we can take these two pussies.

They were wrong.

So when Harold did finally huff and puff his way up the motorway he found his allies nothing more than a rapidly-receding cloud of dust, with Harald and Tostig there going "Now, about this throne." They met at Stamford Bridge, and in true Chelsea home style, there was a massacre. 2-0 to the English king as he not only defeated Tostig and Harald, but killed them both. The exertion, however, left his forces depleted, and all he could probably think was that this would be the worst time for, say, an attack to come from across the sea.

He had barely a month to wait.

Of course, I'm sure we all understand well enough that it wasn't as if William texted Harold - "You, me, Hastings. Be there." In fact, neither probably had any idea where the decisive battle would be, and like any king (or in this case, duke, but soon to be king) landing on foreign shores he was invading, William had a lot of raiding and harrying and possibly raping to do as well before he got to grips with his enemy. His power had obviously grown by now, and I don't know whether you could call him the de facto king of France, but he was certainly able to muster men from Flanders, Brittany and other parts of France to fight for him, and though as ever historians disagree over the size of his force, it's generally accepted to have been somewhere between the 7,000 and 10,000 mark. Hard to be sure, as contemporary historians and present ones never get on: if they see each other at your local, watch out and hold onto your pint. Naturally, those on William's side would have been exaggerating to make him look more of a threat than he was, but it's never possible to be sure. So we stick with this range.

Doesn't seem that huge really. King Harald only brought about 15,000, and his army was considered large. Well, as they say, it's often not how big it is but where you stick it, and William stuck it to the English. Let's not forget Harold's men were also shagged out after the Battle of Stamford Bridge, and a fresh army with a duke eyeing his crown was really the last thing he needed right now. Right now though, was exactly when William came, and he landed in England only a few days after the battle, Harold's army limping home and looking forward to putting their feet up with a cuppa and a copy of Soldier Times or whatever. Sussex was where he made his invasion, setting up a wooden castle (huh?) at Hastings and using it as a base for attack. Since this was Harold's stomping ground, the idea was to lure him there by wrecking everything around, levelling his relative's castles and basically causing shit all through the neighbourhood till the king came to ask them nicely to keep it down if they wouldn't mind, there were people trying to sleep, and Mildred at number ten had a newborn that just would not fucking stop crying.

But when he got the e-vite that was it, and it would be rude not to respond, so off he went to Hastings. He set up defensive camp on Saulac Hill, hoping to surprise William, but the duke's scouts were out and about and had probably recognised Harold due to the crown on his head or something. Anyway, they legged it back to tell their master the English ruler was on the way, and William rode out to meet them. It was October 14 1066, the day everything changed for England. In a stunning piece of irony, those little quirks history is wont to throw up from time to time, the place where the battle actually took place was called, um, Battle. It still is, and I assumed it had been renamed for the famous confrontation, but it seems it has always had that name. So in effect, it wasn't really the Battle of Hastings, but then, the Battle of Battle 1066 would just be silly, wouldn't it?

Anyway the battle lasted pretty much all day, and as you know, I don't do all this battlefield historians shite; not interested in who made a pincer movement or who cut off who from their forces, who took this flag or that ridge or any of that bollocks. But I'll see what I can pick out from the details, see if there is anything I should be writing and telling you about. Okay, I see there was a rumour started that William had been killed, and the army began to panic and retreat, the English pushing forward until the man himself appeared, shouting rather unnecessarily that he was alive, and led the counter-offensive as the English wet themselves and fled. Incredible as it may seem to us, but perhaps a totally English thing (and observed by the French too) the two armies appear to have broken for afternoon tea, taking a rest and getting their strength back. Bah! Wouldn't have happened at El Alamein, I can tell you that!

Nevertheless, once Harold went down that was that. Again with the differing accounts, but whether it's the truth or just the accepted one, the later Bayeux Tapestry has the famous drawing of the king being shot in the eye by an arrow and thus being killed. That may not be the case, but it's passed down into legend and popular history, and who am I to dispute it? Although some of his men rallied around the king's corpse and fought to the end, as in most battles, once the leader is slain the army is out of here, and so they were. William had won the day, and the last English king had bit the dust. A lot of long-winded explanations and theories over how and why William triumphed, but they seem to be mostly centred on the English attacking when they should have been defending (Newcastle United anyone?), being fooled by the feigned retreats the Normans pulled off during the battle, only to be led into an attack, and their lack of cavalry, which would always remain one of the Normans' biggest advantages.

A decisive and stirring victory it may have been, and indeed the beginning of the end for English rule, but if William thought the country was going to fold like a pack of cards and meekly accept a frog as their new sovereign, well, he was about to find out he was in error.

Edgar Atheling (1052 - 1125 or possibly later)

We've heard of him before. He was the son of Edgar the Exile who, once his exile was over, returned to England only to earn a new name: Edgar the Dead. With so many powerful claims to the throne on the death of Edward the Confessor, and he being so young, still in his teens, at the time, Edgar Atheling was not really considered a runner, and Harold Godwinson was crowned instead. When Harold fell, and William began his march towards London in order to take the crown that was possibly rightfully his but never mind if it wasn't, he had won it by right of combat, the English elected Edgar as king. He never ruled though. In Southwark he fought with the English for control of London Bridge, unable to gain access to the city, he expected to encounter only token resistance at the bridge, but one of the leaders of the defenders, a man called Ansgar (or Esegar), the sheriff of Middlesex, had been with Harold at Hastings, and had returned to Southwark to organise its defence.

William, somewhat nonplussed to see such a force arrayed against him - even the townsfolk were armed and joined the effort - offered Ansgar the sheriffship under his rule if he would submit to him, but Ansgar told him where to stick it and they attacked. You have to give it to this guy: he was so badly wounded he had to be carried around in a litter, and had been offered pretty generous terms by the victorious duke, soon to be his king. If he recognised him not only would he be allowed retain his lands, but he could also have a seat on the council. Now, you can't say fairer than that, can you? But England doesn't like invaders, especially ones who rub out their kings, and so there was no compromise.

It's possible those two earls, he of Mercia and the other of Northumbria, were there defending the town too, and though William's cavalry broke through, they faced such stiff opposition that they could not hold the bridge, so they set it ablaze, and Southwark was virtually razed to the ground. London continued to put up stiff resistance until the clergy, convinced by William that they should concede, swore their fealty and he was allowed enter the city. He was crowned the first Norman king of England on Christmas Day.

His first few years, however, were far from easy or peaceful. England had been battered into submission, with the only real alternative to William - now known forever more as "the Conqueror" - being the weak and ineffectual and inexperienced Edgar Atheling, and really nobody wanted to rally behind him. When William returned to Normandy in March though, the English took their chance and revolted here there and everywhere, leaving his half-brother Odo, (so far as I'm aware. no relation to he of the defence of Paris the previous century) and his partner, William Fitzosbern with rebellions to put down, which they did. William was back at the end of the year and took a hand in suppressing the revolts himself, the great strength of his policy being what would become a feature of Norman conquest, not only in England and Ireland but everywhere: he built castles and installed garrisons there, so that there was no chance of rebels getting too uppity again. If they did, there was a ready-made force there to take care of them.

But then there were rebellions and there were rebellions, and one definitely demanded his own personal attention.

The Harrying of the North: No Mercy from the Normans

In late 1069 the north rose. To almost paraphrase and parallel Game of Thrones, winter was coming and the north had united behind Edgar. I don't know if they proclaimed him "King in the North" or anything - most likely not; they'd have wanted him to have been recognised and acknowledged as king of all England - but they rallied and stood against William, still more or less at this point seen as an invader. England - and Ireland - would of course have cause to hate and revile the word Norman over the next few hundred years, even more than it had hated the word French. What became known as "the harrying of the north" was only the beginning.

[Trollheart]

Up to now, I've held the view of the English that they were the sworn enemies of France, but Wikipedia tells me this rivalry didn't really develop between the two countries until much later, culiminating in fact in the Hundred Years War (1337 - 1453), one of the major battles of which was of course that of Agincourt, where Henry V booted French bottom and neutralised most of their nobles. Returning to choruses of "Hoorah!" for the most unlikely victory since Reading kicked Manchester United out of the FA Cup, he was adored by his subjects, but the French never forgot and so began the hatred between both. Maybe.

Look, that might account for the official, sanctioned establishment of the "auld enemy", but I have to believe that the ordinary folk started hating the French a lot sooner, like once William got confortable on their throne and started issuing edicts and levying taxes left, right and centre, and sending helpful bands of soldiers out with burning torches to ensure those who didn't pay the taxes paid in other ways, or just when he was bored.

Since there was no actual English king now to raise any objections, you could probably say with some degree of truthfulness that England was more or less a French possession now, an occupied territory, though that occupation would be one of the longest in history, lasting over half a millennium. So no state reaction, sure, but as anyone who has watched any version of the adventures of Robin Hood (of whom we will speak much more later) can tell you, the poor English common man fucking hated the French, and it has to be from here that any sort of enmity grew for those "frog-eating, slimy, snail-bothering sons of degenerate Vikings" (the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, just prior to being burned by William possibly). After all, if your country is invaded, conquered and then ruled by people who treat you as slaves and work and tax you into oblivion, how can you not hate them? Have you ever been to Ireland?

I suppose at this point it might be helpful to explain what "the north" comprised at the time. Borders and boundaries would be redrawn during William's reign, but at the time of his accession to the throne the north was Yorkshire, Durham, Northumberland, Lancashire, Cumberland and Westmorland (see map above). Many of these places, you may remember, had been part of Danelaw, and occupied by Vikings in the time of Alfred and Aethelred and so on, and they had little taste to bend the knee to a French king. They possibly saw their Norman cousins as Vikings who had submitted themselves to France, and were no longer worthy of the warrior race. Or maybe they just didn't like William, who knows? Either way, they weren't having it.

One of the main points of contention was the earldom of Northumbria. This area had been a trouble spot since the days of Danelaw, often allying against the king, and by this time it had changed hands three times since the days of Tostig (remember him?). The first had been when a supporter of his, with the unlikely name of Copsi (sounds like a character from Beatrix Potter!) took over, swearing fealty to William, having fought Harold with Harald, as it were, on the side of Tostig at the Battle of Stamford Bridge. But the north was against William, and within weeks of being made the new earl Cosplay sorry Pepsi sorry Copsi was killed, replaced by Osulf, who was in turn murdered and the earldom then bought by his cousin, Cospatrick. Who promptly offered his allegiance to Edgar. And so here we were.

William, having had quite enough of these Anglo-fucking-Saxons and their treachery and treason (there's always an excuse for it) rode to Northumbria and Edgar and Cospatrick and assorted allies all scattered, making a beeline for Scotland, where the king, Malcolm II, always happy to stick it to an English monarch, especially a new one finding his feet, said "Come on in, all o' ye! Sure ye'll find braw shelter at mah hearth, ye ken!" or something. William then solved the problem of the Earldom of Northumbria by conferring it on someone he could trust, a Norman. Job done.

Or not quite. Secure now in his new position, Robert de Comines rode into Durham and swiftly adn brutally learned that the one thing the north did not like was a fucking Frenchman trying to lord it over them. So that was the end of him, and the beginning of a resurgence of the revolt. The rebels then burned York castle, which really ticked William off and he rode back, snarling "That fucking castle cost me a lot to build, you English bastards!" And someone may have whispered in his ear so that he added, shrugging "Oh. Right. Yeah. And you killed my newly-appointed earl, too!"

As it often does, rebellion spread, so other towns rose in support of Edgar, who turned to a Viking, Sweyn II, a nephew of Cnut the Great, who was probably none too pleased to see what a pig's breakfast this William head was making of his uncle's ex-kingdom, and sent a large fleet against him. They retook York, but when William came again to make them give it back, they quipped "Didn't want your stupid castle anyway!" and ran back across the border to Scotland. Possibly seeing what a useless wimp this Edgar Atheling was, Sweyn headed back down the coast, William bought him off in the time-honoured fashion and he buggered off back to Denmark with all his ships. You could probably hear the sound as William clapped his gloved gauntlets together and eyed the north.

"Right!" said he, probably. "Now let's sort this fucking place out once and for all!"

And so he did.

The people would remember it forever as the Harrying of the North. Historians would call it genocide. Even later, more sympathetic writers of Norman descent would opine that it was cruel and merciless, but that William had no choice. Basically, it was a slaughter. The Viking blood that pulsed in his  Norman veins was up now, and William had had just about enough of these English. He set to ensuring they would learn their place, would stay there, and would never rise again. Nobody was spared: towns, villages, households; men, women, children, animals, possibly even furry toys - all fell to the sword, the arrow and the fire. The North was set ablaze from border to border, the fires possibly reflected in the eyes of the king and his men as they went about their business like demons from Hell. Well, they wouldn't be demons from anywhere else, would they, but you know what I mean.

An Anglo-Norman chronicler wrote in 1116 of the fury of the king, and how savage - and indeed, unjust - his reprisals were: "The King stopped at nothing to hunt his enemies. He cut down many people and destroyed homes and land. Nowhere else had he shown such cruelty. This made a real change. To his shame, William made no effort to control his fury, punishing the innocent with the guilty. He ordered that crops and herds, tools and food be burned to ashes. More than 100,000 people perished of starvation. I have often praised William in this book, but I can say nothing good about this brutal slaughter. God will punish him."

It may not really have been the best policy. If you're trying to establish your rule on a foreign land, trying to (presumably) create alliances and win allies, torching half of the country is probably not the way to go. Then again, it was only the north. This would, however, instil forever in that half of the country a hatred, resentment and resistance to William's rule which would come back to haunt him. English kings had raided and gone on the rampage before, but not, it would seem, in such an indiscriminate and murderous way. Villages were torched, crops destroyed, livestock killed, the whole land laid waste. In the ensuing and inevitable famine, it was said, with some support, that people turned to cannibalism in order to survive. I don't believe this had happened in England before this, so there's a mark of shame William was never able to remove from his reign.