History Sunday: Anniversary of the White Ship disaster

I always miss anniversaries of historical dates, I'm either a day late, or in this case almost a week.  I just happened upon this one and decided it wasn't too late to write a post (my first one in a while).

William Adelin, Duke of Normandy, isn't a common household name, is it?  Unlike Richard III, Edward Longshanks,Thomas Becket, he's barely a footnote in history books.  He deserves more of a place in history considering it was his death that began the infamous Plantagenet dynasty in England.

William Adelin was the eldest, and only, son of King Henry I of England, and his first wife Edith (Matilda) of Scotland.  Looking back through the patrilineal side, William's grandfather was William the Conqueror (part I, part II, part III), Duke of Normandy and first Norman King of England, and his grandmother was Matilda of Flanders.  Through his mother, Edith of Scotland, his grandfather was King Malcolm III of Scotland, and grandmother Saint Margaret of Wessex.  Some confusion with his mother's name, she was christened Edith (an Anglo-Saxon name), however when she became Queen of England she changed it to Matilda, however I prefer referring to her as Edith because she was Scottish, and there are far too many Matilda's in this era.  All in all, William Adelin has some lineage going for him.

He became Duke of Normandy (ish) in 1120 because his father was a little too proud to do homage to the King of France for Normandy, and so sent his son.  This all sounds very familiar, doesn't it?  Henry I is certainly not the last king to send his son to France for this reason.

It can safely be said that William Adelin was the future of England and Normandy for the period he was alive, as the heir of Henry I.  We can only imagine what the father's expectations for his son were, or those of the nobles and normal folks'.  However, they were never to be lived up to.

Now, my cultured friends, many of you will know what the White Ship disaster is considering you've found this blog post, however for those of you who are simply curious wanderers I'll briefly explain.

The White Ship disaster is one of those important moments in the history of England from which there spilled lots of "what ifs".  The year is 1120, Henry I is sitting comfortably on the throne of England, he and his only son and heir are across the sea in Normandy.  Wanting to test out a new ship, the guilty "white ship" of the title, it's offered to the King, who refuses and instead passes it to his son.  The young heir to the throne, along with a handful of Henry I's illegitimate children, plus a good few hundred people, march onto the ship and both set sail from Barfleur in Normandy, heading to England.  Only one party would arrive.

The white ship sunk, leaving only two survivors, and William Adelin, only son of King Henry I, was not one of them,

The rest is a very dark, cold, corrupt part of history, known aptly as the Anarchy.

The white ship disaster has the potential to spark a multitude of different what if scenarios.  What if William had survived?  What sort of king would he have made?  How would the rest of the history of England have gone?  What would an England without the Plantagenet dynasty at the head have looked like?

Probably quite dull.

I am joking, but you can't say the Plantagenet family didn't know how to kick up turmoil.

Getting back to it.....William Adelin was only 17 when he perished in the Channel with his wife.  As he was so young, and had almost no power in his own lifetime, he's been mostly forgotten by history except as a footnote at the beginning of the Anarchy.  I couldn't really find that much about Adelin, save from reading before he got in a lifeboat he went to fetch his illegitimate sister, and by doing this killed pretty much everyone in said lifeboat by overfilling it.  If it's true, at least we know he's wasn't selfish.

It's all well and good making what if scenarios about history, but the nature of the beast is to be chaotic and messy, even when there is an obvious heir.  If Adelin hadn't perished, and become King of England something else would have happened.  A war between him and his cousin William Clito for the throne, or for Normandy?  His sons would have rebelled, died, something else.  If one remarkable thing hadn't happened, then something else would.  No king's reign in England was not marked by some important date.

Unfortunately, for William, the important date in his life to be contributed to history was his death.

I've read a few fiction novels about the 12th century, mostly because I'm obsessed with Henry II, who would never have became king if Adelin had survived. Just imagine, a red haired, energetic, intelligent man amounting to a measly Count of Anjou, forgotten by most.  What a waste.

Thankfully history was on Henry's side, however it certainly did no favours for the innocent people of England between the grandfather's death and the grandson's ascension.  From what I can imagine, and what history tells us in the famous quote:

"Christ and his Saints slept"

We can only have nightmares about what the anarchy was actually like for people living through it.  I don't know who had it worse, noble men and women who had to decide which horse to place their bets on, or the ordinary folk who were caught up in something that they probably didn't care much for.  Do you care who's Queen of England?  Does it affect you in any way?  I can't imagine it affected the people working the land much either, but maybe that's the ignorant part of my speaking.

The Anarchy all ended in Henry of Anjou, Matilda of England's eldest son, and Henry I's grandson, becoming King of England, hence beginning one of the most tumultuous dynasties in English history, the Plantagenets as they're known now, but that's another story.

And that brings to end this modest post about a very interesting figure of English history, one of the only few who's "what ifs" could have changed English history.  William Adelin, Duke of Normandy, only son and heir of Henry I of England.

History Sunday: William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy (III)

Welcome to the third and final post about William the Conqueror, the first Norman King of England.  So you don't get confused here is part I, and part II.

Before I go into many, many paragraphs about William's battle prowess and his take-over of England I want to talk about his appearance.  We're actually very lucky in that there were a few contemporary descriptions of him, and the only bone of his not to be lost to the ravages of time, his femur, has been examined using modern techniques.  Another side note here the first King of England to actually sit for a portrait was the infamous Richard II who I've briefly mentioned in my John of Gaunt posts.  His reign was during the 14th century, so during our period in the 11th it just wasn't the done thing.  The only images to survive of people during this time, kings and queens usually, are coins, seals or illuminated manuscripts.  I'm actually surprised I haven't had room to mention the Bayeux tapestry in this series of posts because in my mind you can't think about William I without it.  Unfortunately seals, coins and the tapestry aren't likenesses of a historic figure, usually just a generic one.

From contemporary sources it is said that William was well-built, strong, and had a guttural voice.  From his femur his height is estimated to be about 5 feet 10 inches.  According to a source this was tall for the time but I respectfully disagree with this.  It is a common misconception that our ancestors ere smaller than us, but studies that I've read and other sources I've browsed show that there isn't actually much of  difference between the average height in previous centuries and now.  I think women have grown an inch perhaps, and men are close to that.  It is above average height, regardless.  Unfortunately there is no colour descriptions, his eyes or his hair, but I think it's most probable, given his northern European lineage, that he had dark hair and possibly light-ish eyes, I'm not going to venture a colour.

Now the Bayeux tapestry.

No one knows who comissioned this, there's debate about where it was even created.  I think Odo of Bayeux, and William's wife Matilda are the most popular contenders for the comissioners; I've heard somewhere that it may not have been made in Bayeux at all but in England because English women were famed for their needle skill.  Because it was found in Bayeux I think people will naturally assume that Odo of Bayeux, William's half-brother and the Bishop of Bayeux, was the one who ordered it to be made; unfortunately it's a mystery.  To see a video of the Bayeux tapestry click here.

To understand why William wanted or rather stole, the crown of England we first have to look firstly at the validity of his claim, and secondly the precarious situation in England at the time.

Edward the Confessor

William's great-grandfather, Richard I of Normandy, had two children; Richard II and Emma.  Emma married Aethelred the Unready, King of England and had Edward the Confessor.  England at that time was not the England we know today, half of it was England, the other half now known as the Danelaw where the viking settlers remained.  Cnut, the King of the Danelaw, managed to conquer England and this sent Edward the Confessor, and his younger brother, into exile in Normandy.  Things happened in England that I'm not all that knowledgeable on the details but eventually, as we know, Edward claimed back his throne and became King of England.
Edward never married, and is the only English King to become a Saint.  I don't understand why he never married, especially when during later periods so much focus was placed on producing an heir.  Perhaps it was because of his struggles with the Godwin family, the powerful Earls of Wessex, I'll never know.  No one knows what he intended about the succession because there were many candidates.

William claimed that he had been promised the throne of England by Edward himself, and that he was always supposed to be his heir, but there has never been any proof of this found in any sources.  I don't know if it's true or not, but from what we've seen of William's ferocity and ambition I think he saw an opportunity and took it.  Edward the Confessor died sometime in January 1066, and so started the events that would change English history.

Harold Godwinson claiming the throne

There are a lot of details surrounding the Norman invasion, ones I have tried to read during research for a series of short stories of mine set in England in 1072.  I'm not going to recount them here, only in brief.  After Edward's death Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, claimed the throne for himself.  This apparently enraged William who thought he was the rightful heir.

Having fought all of his life to win control over Normandy, William gathered a great force and set sail for England after a delay crossing the channel due to bad weather.

Eventually he landed in Pevensey in September of 1066 with an army and a determination that no man could withstand.  By October of the same year he had defeated Harold at the never to be forgotten Battle of Hastings and claimed England for himself, becoming one of the most powerful men in 11th century Europe.

Oh dear, if only it were that easy.  People usually leave this story at the Battle of Hastings but wars are rarely one during one battle.  This is the thing, it's in the name, the Norman conquest of England.  Anglo-Saxons were the inhabitants of England during this time, they spoke a variant of old english, Normans spoke Norman French.  This would literally be like French people coming over to England now and taking over,; your boss is French, he demands and expects you to be fluent in French as well, he's going to change the way things work, the law, to the French laws.  That's not particularly true in this case, Anglo-Saxon law was well developed, even better than the Norman one, and so for the most part William changed nothing like that.  What he did do was pull down prominent Anglo-Saxon magnates and nobles and replaced them with his Norman followers.  This enraged the populace and for many years following Williams coronation he had to fight remnants of the Anglo-Saxon nobility.

The most pungent of these events, for me, was the harrying of the north.  This was literally destruction on a mass scale, ethnic cleansing if you will.  William marched an army to York and then ravaged everything north of that point, burning villages, towns, killing people; it certainly sent a very loud message to the rest of England but it was brutality on an awful scale.  Although I admire William I loathe him for this; mass punishment for only a few perpetrators is illogical and barbaric.

Unfortunately even up until the end of William's life he faced opposition from the Anglo-Saxons. It didn't help any that he commissioned the Domesday book in 1085/1086 that recorded everything he owned in England, every property, every village, town, home, castle, etc.  Although it was despised at the time it has now become an invaluable resource about the geography of England, and the history of the largest cities and towns.

William died in 1087 probably from a fall from his horse although it's a bit unclear what actually happened.  He wasn't a very respected king because as soon as his last breath had left him everyone scurried away to prepare for the aftermath his death would bring, and when his body was eventually found most of the things in his residence were stolen by servants and his body was lying naked on the floor.  I act shocked about things like these but it also happened to Henry II as well.

Slowly after his death the great empire he had clawed and scraped together disintegrated until roughly 1100 when Henry I managed to regain most of it.  He left England to his son William Rufus, and Normandy to his eldest son, and possibly most disliked, Robert.  Over the remaining decades until Henry I's reign the brothers bickered terribly for control over the other's domain, until eventually the youngest son, Henry, became eventual heir to William's empire.

Queen Elizabeth II, the current monarch, is descended from William, as are many other people around the world.  He brought Norman French, which merged over hundreds of years with Anglo-Saxon to give our modern day English.  Beef is actually a Norman word, cow is Anglo-Saxon.  He brought many things to England, even Scotland, Wales and Ireland, although indirectly.  I personally think the Norman Invasion is a definitive pivotal point in English history, not the most important, but definitely in the top 5.

Travelling Scot: Nottingham

So I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I spent last Friday in Nottingham after having completed all of my coursework; to be honest even if I hadn't I still would have gone.  The night before I charged up my phone, I spent too long on Google maps, and I planned my day so I wouldn't be disappointed.  The three attractions, well if you count a church as an attraction, were St Mary's, the Galleries of Justice, and of course, Nottingham Castle.  The city name, Nottingham, comes from Snota inga ham, Saxon for village belonging to Snota, or Snot, who was a Saxon chieftain.

There was no particular reason why I went to the Galleries of justice, I've rarely written about the law in the 19th century, in fact I've rarely written about the 19th Century at all until recently and even then it's set in Glasgow, but the law is different in Scotland; to put it a charming and very official way, we have Scots Law that is independent of England and Wales, and Ireland.  That being said it was a most enjoyable visit and very informative in case I ever did want to write about it.  It was the first thing I went to see because they have a lot of school trips during the week and so the first thing I did when I got off the train, and followed my GPS a potential mugging way, was go and book my own tour at 12.30.  This gave me roughly 2 hours to look at the castle and the church.

For those of you who haven't been in Nottingham they seem to have jumped on board this fetish with bringing the trams back into major cities.  I've seen them in Manchester and Birmingham but have never been on one, and Edinburgh made such a disaster of theirs that there's not really any point in going on them.  In hindsight I should have jumped on it into town instead of nearly getting lost with my GPS, that being said I wouldn't have known what stop to get off at and would have got lost anyway.  Needless to say I got one back to the station but more on that later.

Thankfully St Mary's church is practically right beside the Galleries of Justice.
So I walked to the very front of the church, which is rarely where the actual entrance is these days, took a few snaps here and there, read that the entrance was in the south porch, not unusual.  The place was really quiet because it's away from the main town centre and no one seemed to be walking past either.  My stomach was talking to me and instead of looking around in wonderment I should have eaten the cereal bar in my bag but I didn't, and more fool me for not.  I found the porch it was talking about and when I entered I found the door on the below right.  Looks pretty solid, and more importantly closed doesn't it?  My heart sank.  This was the oldest church in Nottingham, built in the 14th century as an improvement to one that had already been there and was reported in Domesday book, I really wanted to see inside.  I looked around at the noticeboards I didn't take a picture of to the left and right and found that it should be open.
Bravely....I mean gingerly I stepped towards the door, the heels of my boots thudding on the hollow ramp at my feet, and slowly I began to push on this door.  My God was it heavy, which is kind of obvious when you look at it.  It's the part on the right that opens and in I slipped, straight onto four people of the church having what looked to be an important meeting.
This is the thing about churches, anyone can just walk in.  To be honest the meeting was happening at the other side of the knave from the door, but because of the high ceilings and lovely echoing I would have a problem with a little later I could hear their mumblings and conversation.  I felt very conspicuous, as anyone does when they're the only guest in a church, or customer in a shop.  I walked around the side of the church, taking everything in, passing a man who was carrying the chairs into the knave.  No pews inside of this church, which now I think about it is weird although that thought didn't occur to me at the time.

I won't go into detail about the history of the church, mainly because I don't know anything about it.  There was no handy guidebook to tell me everything, only the occasional sign marking something of interest in the chapels or on the walls.
From what I can remember there isn't much left of the original masonry of the 14th century, but the stained glass window on the right is partly intact from then; you can kind of tell by the face near the top, definitely a medieval drawing.

Now as I was walking around the church my stomach decided to begin grumbling again and this is where my unfortunate run in with the echoing came in.  Yes, it's almost transcendent when you hear a choir sing, the voice of the reverend...minister....priest (? I'm not catholic, I don't know) carries all the way down the knave, but guess what, so does a grumbling tummy.  My stomach and I have had many embarrassing moments of a similar nature, mostly during a silent exam, many silent exams, but in a church is a first.  Thankfully there was no one around, well not many people around, to share in my embarrassment.

The painted ceiling was pretty (pictured on the right).  What I find interesting about churches is that they force people to look up, handy when God is meant to be in heaven.  Walking around in every day life no one ever looks up at buildings, or at people like me looking out of high windows at the tiny figures walking around, but it's different in a church.

I would definitely recommend St Mary's church for those of you who like medieval architecture, quiet and tranquil places, and just like churches in general.  Obviously if you're a Catholic, too.  And as is tradition when I go into a catholic church, I lit a candle at one of the chapels, and donated to the church's upkeep.

By this time I think I had about an hour and a half to find Nottingham castle, look around, and then get back to the Galleries of Justice.  I'm a stickler for time, if I have an appointment or somewhere to be I am constantly looking at my watch so I'm not late; this case was no different.  Rather than using my GPS to find my way from St Mary's to the castle the signposts were very helpful in pointing me in the right direction, which turned out to be a straight road practically.  Thanks Nottingham council.  The last time I used tourist signs I got lost in York, anti-thanks York council!
The castle isn't really a castle anymore, rather it's a stately home placed slap bang in the middle of a city.  It did used to be a castle, a proper one like everyone imagines, but it was destroyed, rebuilt, etc.  As a result I don't know much about the castle either, so Wikipedia will come to the rescue.  All I do remember off the top of my head was that Richard I besieged the castle with his brother, John, still in it.

During its medieval heyday it must have been quite something to behold, even now the views are breathtaking from "castle rock" where the mansion is built.  There used to be a keep situated on the spot where the ducal mansion now sits.

The first castle was built by William the Conqueror in 1067, built in stone under Henry II and remained grand and important throughout the centuries.  Edward III, whose reign I have the most knowledge about, began his own rule at this castle after he staged a coup against his mother and Roger Mortimer who had been acting as regents.
The current castle, or mansion, is your typical 18th century building, and houses an art gallery which was unfortunately closed the day I visited as they were making way for a new exhibit.  The views were the best thing about this castle for me, and I wish I had gone a little later when the sun came out and the clouds went away because when I went, as you can see, it was overcast in typical British style.





Actually before I even got into the castle I was waylaid by English people asking me to take a picture of them in front of the Robin Hood statue outside the castle walls.  They said it was for a team building exercise.  Before that I was asked for directions.  This isn't a rare occurrence for me, well the picture one was, but certainly not directions.  When I was visiting family in Carlisle I actually managed to point someone in the right direction and I had only been in the main city less than 30 minutes.  I must have one of those faces, I inherited it from my mother who can't go out of the house without being approached by a stranger.
Nottingham can't be mentioned without thinking of Robin Hood, and believe me the Nottingham tourism office has taken full advantage.  He is everywhere, statues, signs, merchandise.  It is a shame that he isn't real.

After I had taken in some fresh air at the castle and been awed by the views over the entire city I made my way back into town, did some light shopping, and by the time I was done realised I only had 20 minutes for lunch.  I beat one of my deepest social fears by walking into a busy Costa and having lunch on my own (I do eat on my own but I usually pick empty cafes and places, or I eat on a bench).  After wolfing down a nice toastie and an Orange, festive, hot chocolate, I made my way back to the Galleries of Justice.

I said in my previous post that I was asked to be a witness for the prosecution, and with my best Scottish accent I read the script.  The tour guide said he thought I was American when I first came in, I wonder at this since I didn't say a word to him.  I was with various other Europeans; Italian, Spanish and Brazilian, then the couple from Lincolnshire.  We walked around the prison/courtroom learning all about the horrors and injustice of 19th century law.  Apparently it's haunted, although I am impartial to a well written ghost story, I think they're solely reserved for the pages of a novel or short story, needless to say I never saw any ghosts.  Perhaps you will if you visit.
It was horrific to learn how bad the system was, but I have a feeling that only the truly awful stories and cases were illuminated for the visitor, even then I may just be being optimistic. Definitely worth a visit if you like passionate actors, and a run around an exercise yard.  I would also like to personally thank my first tour guide, the 19th Century usher, who gave me my new name for this blog.

After coming from the Galleries of Justice I had about an hour to kill before I needed to be back in the train station.  There had been a sign post to the old market, or market square, and I wanted to go and see it.  What should I stumble upon but a Christmas market!  I was so happy and it was such a good end to a brilliant day.  In Glasgow the Christmas Market, or German market as it used to be called, is there from December onwards and it really does help you get in the christmas mood.  Leicester doesn't have one and so the only Christmas I get is a thorntons smiley face from my advent calender and the speciality disposable cups you get from Cafe Nero and Costa.  I can't even have a speciality drink because they're too sweet for me, and I've also had to cut out caffeine from my life.  After this week is over ( my last week of the semester, yay!) I will endeavor to ask them to put less syrup in my drink and then it will be Christmas.

I didn't buy anything at the market, mostly because the food makes me cringe.  I did get a decaf latte from the Costa though and after that it was tram time!  I know it's childish of me but I really wanted to ride in a tram.  I had seen them in these cities, waited patiently and without reward for them in Edinburgh, but I'd never been on one.  It was expensive.  There was two stops between me at the market and the train station, a single was £2.10, it would have been cheaper if I had a melon card (at least I think that was what it was called, like the Osyter card for London transport).  It was so fun, the other people must have thought I was a complete nut having just run away from the psychiatric ward, but I don't care, I never do.  The tram was fun and I would reccomend getting it from the station into town raher than walking.  For those of you who do it's the first or the second stop after the train station for the city centre.

I would recommend Nottingham because it was a really nice city and I had a good, relaxing day out.

History Sunday: William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy (I)

This post was spurred by a comment I read on pinterest when I was sifting through the pins.  William I of England was apparently "England's Hitler".......just.......what?  How can you possibly compare the first Norman King of England with a dictator who massacred millions of innocent people and terrorised the entirety of Europe for years?  Yes, the Conqueror wiped out the north of England in what can only be viewed as one of the biggest losses of patience in British history, but he was hardly Hitler.  I have to say I didn't realise I was as big a fan of the Duke until I saw this dreadful over-exaggerated, nonsensical and insensitive comment.  I don't think he was amazing, I'm not in love with him like I am the fictional portrayal of John of Gaunt, but I do admire William, and his wife Matilda of Flanders, greatly.  His life is something taken out of an epic fantasy novel where the hero just has a hard life from the very beginning.  Recently I have also purchased the novel "The conqueror" by Georgette Heyer, and I have read a biography about his wife, Matilda of Flanders; "Matilda" by Tracy Borman is definitely worth a read.

William of Normandy, called "The Bastard" by the understandably disgruntled Anglo-Saxon chronicle, was the illegitimate son of Duke Robert I of Normandy and a relatively obscure woman simply known as Herleva of Falaise.

The Dukes of Normandy traced their ancestry back to a man named in historical records as Rollo, a viking who began attacks on what is now Normandy and was appeased by the King of Western Francia (a part of modern day France) when he was given land to settle in, hence the word Normandy comes from "North men" or "those who came from the north".  William's father, Duke Robert I, remained unmarried in his lifetime but had two illegitimate children by different mothers.  A daughter, Adelaide of Normandy, married three times, and of course William became Duke after the untimely death of his father.  There is a very romantic story concerning Robert and Herleva which has no historical foundation and also which appears through physical evidence to be impossible.
It's said that when the young Duke Robert was at a castle in Falaise he spotted Herleva in the dyeing trenches in the courtyard (her father is thought to have been a tanner) and ordered her brought to him immediately (that's right, the good old days of men picking up women literally with a snap of their fingers).  According to a written source instead of being snuck in through the backdoor she demanded she be led in on horse though the front door, effectively telling everyone that she was his mistress.  I doubt this story because if that were true then surely she would have had more recorded children?  Not to mention surely some pious chronicler of the day would have written more about her?  Let's just say I'm only a romantic when I want to be.

William is reported to have been born in either 1027 or 1028 but because his mother and father were not married, his birth was not official, and so was't contemporaneously recorded.  Little is known about his early childhood as well because he was illegitimate.  It can probably be safely assumed he remained with his mother as would have been customary at the time.

Poor little William's harsh reality begins with his father's death in 1035.  Shortly before Duke Robert I left for Jerusalem as a sort of repentance, he named William, who would have been between  7 and 8, his heir.  The other nobles and important people must have thought this a precaution.  The Duke was 35, not young but not an old man by the time, and perhaps they held hope of him properly marrying on his return from Jerusalem.  It's always interesting to think what would have happened if things had turned out differently, if the Duke had returned from his journey.  William, illegitimate son, may have faded into anonymity, or have been an ally to any legitimate siblings he may have had, or perhaps even an enemy in hindsight of what we know of his temper and will.

As we all know by now this was not to be.  Duke Robert I of Normandy died in Nicaea in 1035 on the return journey of an illness of some kind.  William the Bastard was now Duke of Normandy and still a boy.

I think I can safely say that 11th Century Europe was a dangerous and somewhat barbaric place.  England may have been setttled for a few decades, but Scotland at this time was four separate kingdoms (a post about that later), and certainly France as we know it today was a dream of fools.  Normandy, as I've stated before, was given to Rollo and his descendants by the Kings of West Francia.  France, at this time, was split into Duchys and one Kingdom.  The names are still used today to identify provinces of France; Normandy was flanked by the Duchy of Brittany to the West, the Counts of Anjou to the south and the Kingdom of France to the East.  There were more southern Duchys that belonged to Dukes but I don't like over-complicating things.

It was a volatile mix and the Dukes of Normandy had a tempestuous relationship with their neighbours, and at times their own subordinates.  Wars were a thing of constancy, diplomacy and negotiation seemed to be a secondary tactic seldom used.  On the death of Duke Robert, a child inherited a dangerous Duchy, and of course what happens when a child inherits anything?  Greedy adults put their hands in as well.  What was the easiest way to claim Normandy?  Killing the helpless child and invading with your own armies.

I cannot imagine, however hard I try, what it must have been like for the young William constantly having to escape assassination attempts, observing as his loyal body guards, family members and retainers were all murdered in order to save his life.
When he ascended at first he had the support of a few powerful French men such as his great-uncle the Archbishop Robert of Rouen, and King Henry of France.  Unfortunately with the death of the Archbishop in 1037 there began a cycle of guardians being killed in quick succession.

1047 is the first time that the Duke is recorded fighting for his rights in Normandy.  Three powerful nobles in Normandy rebelled against the Duke, causing him to flee to the French Court and King Henry of France.  They came back together and quashed the rebellion.  This was to be the first of many rigorous battles that the Duke would partake in during his tenure as Duke of Normandy and later King of England.

William's story will continue in part II, out next Sunday.

Leicester Castle and St Mary de Castro

Today after many weeks of hectic schedules and procrastination I finally went to see Leicester Castle, or what's left of it.  To be completely honest there isn't really anything to see of the castle, nothing to go inside and marvel at.  I think the only things I actually saw were the Great Hall, or the modern building that's on the place where it would have once been, and a part of the wall.

Leicester castle used to be a royal residence and it was built shortly after the Norman Conquest of England and housed Kings Edward I, Edward II, and of course from my previous three posts about John of Gaunt he and his second wife Constance of Castile both died here.

What's left of the Great Hall

What I did end up waiting 15 minutes to see was St Mary de Castro church which is as old as the castle, if not older.  I like churches, when they're intact from this period at least, because they're so peaceful and although others may disagree there is just something atmospheric inside; I don't know if it's the silence or just the sheer length of time these buildings have been standing observing humanity around them, but just like with castles of any kind, these places have a personality of their own.

I'm not going to lie here, I thought this church was dedicated to an actual Saint Mary from a place called Castro.  There are so many saints in the Roman-Catholic church and since I'm not Catholic I don't know any of them, and they're always appearing in one place or another.  I was promptly corrected by the very helpful signs they have outside.  St Mary de Castro is possibly Norman French or some variation of French since it was built during Norman times and the main language of those with enough money to build it spoke French, translated as St Mary of the Castle.  I felt particularly stupid at this point.  Seeing as the modern French word for castle is chateu and there are profound similarities between Norman French and modern french I just thought Castro was a place.  Apparently from what I read on Wikipedia the extended name, St Mary de Castro, is because Phillippa of Lancaster, who was born in the castle, married the King of Portugal.  No citation on that one though so I'd take it with a pinch of salt, I like my Norman French idea better.

So before I begin; I am doing this from memory from the very helpful guide book that the church hands you when you go in, but you have to put back before you leave, and of course some confirmation from Wikipedia, but I am doing a Masters, my memory is the only thing that got me this far.  I'm also going to apologise for the pictures, I left my camera back in Glasgow thinking I wouldn't need it and so everything here is taken with my phone.

Built in about 1107 by the first Earl of Leicester, Robert de Beaumont, it is thought that there was an earlier church on the site before, an Anglo-Saxon one.  The Normans truly brought stone fortifications and churches to England during the conquest and before that everything was usually built from wood and timber.  Although the Normans did come over and literally take over everything, building castles left, right, and centre, when it came to churches they usually just built in stone the ones that were already there.  Unfortunately there isn't any solid evidence apart from an Anglo-Saxon piece of a tomb lodged in the original wall inside the church, or at least what they think is an Anglo-Saxon tomb.  As with every important church St Mary de Castro's has been extensively built since its founding up until the reformation, even in the Victorian era it was built onto.

It was quite a small church until the 1160s when it was expanded.  I think I read in the booklet that one of the original outside walls is actually inside the church now.  Something I find fascinating now that I know more about historic architecture is how you can sometimes spot the different masonry.  It is very obvious in Kenilworth castle between Coventry and Warwick (I've been there three times before but I'm going again after this semester is finished so I'll probably write a post then).  Kenilworth has a Norman part built in the 12th Century, a 14th Century part built by, you guessed it, John of Gaunt, and finally a 16th Century part built by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.  The Normans were a practical lot, their castles are very square, rigid and imposing, bulky and solid; they are also known for their round arches.  Pointed arches are a thing gradually introduced in the following centuries and is a tell-tale sign of the time period they were built in.

Inside this church there are what is called a "Sedilla". This is my new word for today.  Pictured on the right these are little niches in the wall created for "important clergyman and their helpers" from what I can remember on the guide.  I never knew that they even existed until I walked into this church.  These three are Norman in construction, why?  The chevrons carved on the round arches are Norman in design and so this is from the original part of the church.

There are a few quirks in the architecture in this place.  There is a carving in between two arches just above the post that separates them that looks like a doll.  It's actually thought to be a likeness of a mason's apprentice and although I didn't take a picture of it, I must admit it does look like a young boy.  There are the more mundane faces peeking out from corners and between arches, probably the people who worked as masons, in the nearby castle, or even those who donated money to the construction of the church itself.
To prove my point about Norman and 13th Century architecture is the picture on the left.  These are another three Sedilla situated in the relatively newer section of the church, just outside the original outer wall.  These have pointed arches, a signature design of later medieval architecture.  For me there is such a difference between these ones and the Norman ones above.  As I said before, the Normans were imposing people, fearsome warriors and practical by nature, and everything they build is a reflection of that practicality, as can be seen by the thick posts that seperate these Sedillas from one another, the stark chevrons that almost seem to point to those sititng inside.  Looking at the ones built later the posts between them are thin, delicate, the pointed arches elegant and decorative.  It's amazing the change in 200 years.

This is the best picture of the original outer wall of the Norman church built in the 1170s.

The two pictures here are the insides of the original church.
The one pictured on the right used to be the back wall, as you can see the Norman architecture in the round archways at the back.  According to the guidebook there was a door in the middle leading, I can't remember where, but it was bricked up during Queen Victoria's reign when there was more building done inside.  I don't know if you can see clearly but in the second archway from the left there is a sort of red brick rectangle near the ground; that's apparently the remnants of the Anglo-Saxon tomb that I spoke about earlier.

The picture to the left is of the knave, if I have it correctly.  I don't know how many books I read about church parts, or how many I go into, I can never remember what the knave, the chancery, the sacristy are; they're just words to me.  On the plus side I know what a chapel is.

This door led to what used to be
the Sacristy

Don't be fooled by these pictures.  The back wall on the right is the only visible stone left from the original Norman architecture.  As you can see from the picture on the left there are pointed archways along the walls, not Norman.

Getting back to the history of the place, there are local legends about the people who had connections with this church, and either fortunately or unfortuantely for Richard III he is of course linked with everything Leicester ever since his body was found in the car park a few years ago.  I'm not going to debate whether he should have been buried at York, to be perfectly honest Leicester needs his burial more than York does to bring in the fans.  According to the guidebook and the city council cultural sign outside, Richard III may have gone to st Mary de Castro's to pray, since people then were still Roman Catholic.

The one I find the most interesting is Geoffrey Chaucer.  The famous 14th century writer linked to the most important royals of the 14th century, it is rumoured that Geoffrey was married to Katherine de roet-Swynford's sister, Phillippa, at this church.  What I will take time here to correct is that the sign outside of the church that says Geoffrey married his second wife here; he only had one wife, and that was Phillippa.

Needless to say, as a royal residence, this little church would have been the place of worship for many important people connected with, or a part of, the royal family of the 11th to 15th centuries.

These pictures to the left and right are the newest pieces of the church, built outside the original walls and then they were all combined at some point.

The picture on the left is the tower, thought to be unsafe until just recently.  You can actually see the space between the tower and the two walls surrounding it.

This would be a great picture if it was in focus but taking pictures with my phone is difficult.  This is the place where you can see a piece of the original Norman outside wall.  You know by now, the chevrons near the top right corner on the round arch.

I would definitely recommend St Mary de Castro's to anyone visiting Leicester.  I went to the Cathedral a few weeks ago and wasn't impressed but I think that's because everything is hidden behind building boards because they're getting ready for the burial of King Richard III next year.  It's been around longer than Leicester Cathedral and definitely has more obvious personality, a typical mashing together of different periods; it feels a bit like a patchwork blanket or quilt.

I lit candles at one of the chapels, just because it has become a tradition for me when I enter a church that does that, ever since I visited Carcassonne in France earlier this year.  I also donated because boy does this little church take a lot to run.  It's only open from 12-2pm on weekdays and of course over the weekend for sermons, and it's about a five minute walk from the city centre, easily found without using GPS on your phone.  If you go please do donate, this is a treasure trove of history and needs to be protected.