10. THE EDUCATION OF A KNIGHT: WILLIAM MARSHAL (CA. 1144–1219)
INTRODUCTION
The anonymous History of William Marshal is a very long poem written at the behest of the Marshal’s family after his death in 1219. In the History, William’s life is narrated as a series of adventures and important events, from his birth during the volatile civil war between KING STEPHEN and EMPRESS MATILDA (1135–1155) to his early years as a landless and impoverished knight whose fortunes changed dramatically when QUEEN ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE and King Henry II (r. 1155–1189) attached him to their household and that of their eldest son, the Young King Henry. Once connected to the royal court, William Marshal advanced rapidly, ultimately winning the biggest prize a landless knight could desire: marriage to a wealthy and aristocratic heiress. William indeed married well: his wife was ISABELLA DE CLARE, heiress both to the earldom of Pembroke (as well as other properties) from her father, Earl Gilbert fitzRichard de Clare, and to the kingdom of Leinster in Ireland, from her mother, Aiofe, daughter of King Diarmid Mac Murchada. The History catalogues Marshal’s career after marriage in detail, ending with a poignant scene of his death.
The poem itself survives in a single manuscript, discovered in a collection of manuscripts amassed by Sir Thomas Phillipps in the nineteenth century by French historian M. Paul Meyer. He published an edition in three volumes, with an abridged translation into modern French, between 1891 and 1901. The original manuscript was acquired by the J. Pierpont Morgan Library in New York City in 1958.
KEEP IN MIND AS YOU READ
As a very small boy, William Marshal was handed to King Stephen as a hostage in 1153 for the good behavior of his father, John Marshal. John Marshal reneged on his promises to the king and this marked William for abuse, at the very least, and possibly death. He was able, according to the poet, to disarm King Stephen with his intelligence and “courtesy” at such a young age: the product of the careful education of his father in the “rules” of chivalry. As a young man, William—landless and poor—was placed in the household of William of Tancarville, Lord Chamberlain of Normandy, in order to be educated as a knight. He was not treated with respect by the Chamberlain, in part because of the lowly status of being the youngest—and impoverished—son in a large family. Nevertheless, William Marshal persevered, and his experiences led him into an affiliation with the royal household.
Document 1: The History of William Marshal
The Marshal took stock:
he sent letters to the King,
asking him, if it so pleased him, to grant
a truce until such time as he had spoken
with his lady, the Empress.
The King would not have been at all willing to do this
on the strength of his word or an agreement,
for he did not trust him;
he would take no pledges or surety from him,
but, if he handed over to him hostages
such as he specified,
he would do as the Marshal asked.
Thereupon the matter was concluded,
with the result that the King
obtained one of the Marshal’s sons as hostage,
which might well have turned out badly.
I am not speaking about the first son but the next,
William, about whom, from now on,
anyone willing to give his attention will hear many a fine tale.
. . .
The child’s life was in danger,
for the King realized only too well
that he had been tricked.
. . .
Then deceivers stepped forward,
wicked and base men,
who advised him to hang the child.
Word came of this to his father,
but he said that he did not care
about the child, since he still had
the anvils and hammers
to produce even finer ones.
When the King heard of this reaction,
he was furious.
He ordered the child to be seized
and taken to the gallows for hanging;
he had him carried to the gallows,
but the King would not allow himself to go along with him
without the company of a great retinue,
since he had great fears of being ambushed.
And the child, as he was being carried off,
quite unsuspecting of the threat of death,
saw the earl of Arundel,
who was holding a very fine javelin,
and he said in his simple childish way:
“My lord, give me that javelin.”
When the King heard these innocent words,
not for all the gold in France
would he have allowed him to be hanged that day.
Instead, with great goodness and kindness,
for his heart was full of these qualities,
he took the child in his arms
and said: “I’ll spare you this torture,
you can be sure you won’t die here now.”
They went back to join the army,
and a catapult was being set up
to aim at the keep
and the walls around it.
The advisers came back
to recommend to the King
that the child be taken forthwith,
placed in the sling
and fired at those within the walls
to strike fear in their hearts.
The child, too young to have much understanding of events,
was led away towards the catapult.
When he saw the catapult’s sling,
he took a little step back,
and said: “Gracious me! What a swing!
It would be a good idea for me to have a swing on it.”
He went right up to the sling,
but the King said: “Take him away! Take him away!
Anyone who could ever allow
him to die in such agony would certainly have a very cruel heart;
he comes out with such engaging childish remarks.”
. . .
[The king’s men continue to threaten young William with a painful death and insist that they will tie him to the catapult. In response, the castle’s constable ties a millstone to the battlements, saying that the child will be squashed against it if they catapult him toward the castle.]
Seeing this, the child asked
what sort of new toy this could be
that they were hanging out of the window.
When the King heard him say this,
he burst out laughing
and said: “William, a toy like that
would be no good at all for you.
To do you any harm would be a great shame
because you haven’t done anything wrong.
I shall spare you toys such as this,
you’ll never die at my hands.”
The King settled down to the siege.
One day he was sitting in his tent,
strewn with grasses and flowers
of a variety of colors.
William looked at the flowers,
examining them from top to bottom.
Happily and cheerfully
he went about gathering the “knights”
growing on the plantain,
with its broad pointed leaves.
When he had gathered enough
to make a good handful,
he said to the King: “my dear lord,
would you like to play knights?”
“Yes,” he said, “my little friend.”
The child immediately placed some
on the King’s lap,
when he asked: “Who has the first go?”
“You, my dear little friend”, replied the King.
So he then took one of the knights,
and the King placed his own against it.
But it turned out that in the contest
the King’s knight lost its head,
which made William overjoyed.
. . .
These childish games and pranks
were not over in a day,
or even two or three,
but lasted more than two months.
. . . .
The Chamberlain and his retinue
returned to Tancarville,
and, in the peaceful conditions now prevailing,
it was possible to go tourneying throughout the land,
and any man seeking to win renown
would go to the tournaments, if he had the wherewithal.
The Marshal was much displeased
and greatly dismayed,
for all he had was his palfrey,
now that his fine horse had died
from the wounds it had received as he rode it.
. . .
The Chamberlain showed little kindness
towards the Marshal, and the latter was very ashamed;
he scarcely took any account of him.
In brief, it is well known
that poverty has brought dishonour
on many a nobleman and been the ruin of them;
such was the case with the Marshal,
for he had nothing to give and no source of wealth.
. . .
Everywhere the news spread
that between Sainte-Jamme and Valennes
there would be a tournament in a fortnight’s time.
. . .
The news spread so far
that it reached Tancarville.
The Chamberlain made ready;
he was pleased to make the effort
to bear arms on that occasion.
The hall filled with knights
set to go to the tournament,
but the Marshal had not means of going
and was therefore downcast.
His lord the Chamberlain addressed him:
“What are you downcast about, Marshal?”
“My lord, I have no horse
and therefore I am very badly equipped.”
“There is no need for you to be concerned on that score;
do not give it a further thought, Marshal,
for you will have horses aplenty.”
The Marshal thanked him for this
and had great faith in the words he spoke.
. . .
The Chamberlain had seen to it that fine horses
were taken there as gifts for his knights.
But, in the sharing out of horses
the Marshal was forgotten.
He saw very well how they had been distributed,
but he said not a single word,
except: “The horses have been shared out,
but you have denied me a share.”
At this the Chamberlain replied:
“Marshal, it makes no sense
that you were not one of the first to have one.
However, you are welcome to have
a fine, sturdy, horse, whatever the cost to me;
no expense will be spared.”
Someone informed the Chamberlain
that there was still one left,
a strong, fine, and well-proportioned horse,
very lively, swift and powerful.
So the horse was brought out,
a horse fine and valuable,
had it not been for one flaw
that was a terrible drawback:
the horse was so wild
that it could not be tamed.
The Marshal mounted it.
Not once did he use his elbows;
instead he pricked it with his spurs,
and the horse, flying faster than a hawk,
bounded forwards.
At the point where it should have been reined in,
it turned out that it pulled incredibly hard.
Never had it had a master
able to make it pull less,
even if he had had fifteen reins to restrain it.
The Marshal gave the matter thought
and came up with a brilliant scheme:
he let out the bridle
at least three fingers’ length from the bit
and so released the lock
of the bit that it
went down into its mouth
and so it had far less to bite on
than was usual.
For no amount of gold or other riches
could he have reined him in in any other way.
He considered that he had been very clever.
The horse was so improved by this new bridle
that he could have been ridden around
in half an acre of land
as if he were the tamest on earth.
When day broke, the knights arrived.
. . .
And I can tell you that in front of the lists
this was no formal joust;
there was not a single word of argument spoken
except of winning or losing all
Sir Philip de Valognes
was armed so elegantly
and so very finely,
and the handsomest knight of all of them;
he was also swifter than any bird.
For this many a knight observed him.
The Marshal observed him closely,
then immediately he left the ranks,
spurring on his horse Blancart;
he launched himself at great speed into their midst
and seized Philip’s bridle.
Philip made every effort to defend himself,
but no effort was of any avail:
the Marshal by force dragged him towards himself
and took him away from the tournament.
Philip readily gave his pledge to the Marshal,
who so placed his trust in him
that, for that reason, he let him go.
And, after leaving Philip,
he rejoined the tournament
Immediately he knocked down a knight
with a lance he had managed to pick up;
it was only a stump, but he did so well with it
that the knight pledged his word
to become a prisoner.
So now he had two very valuable prisoners,
and that without doing injury or harm to them.
He stretched out his hand to take a third,
and, as a result of his great effort and application,
he had him soon pledging his word to be his prisoner.
. . .
My lords, in very truth, it is no lie
that God is wise and courtly:
he is swift to come to the help and assistance
of any man who puts his trust in him.
Only that day had the Marshal been a poor man as regards possessions and horses,
and now he had four and a half,
fine mounts and handsome, thanks to God.
He also had hacks and palfreys,
fine pack-horses and harnesses.
The tournament disbanded
and the Chamberlain left
with men in his company.
They paid the Marshal great honour
and treated him very courteously,
more so than they had done before.
Dough will rise according to the yeast you use.
Source: History of William Marshal. Volume I. Edited by A. J. Holden, translated by S. Gregory, notes by D. Crouch. London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 2002. Pp. 23–35, 63–71. Edited by editor. Reprinted with permission.
AFTERMATH
William Marshal’s education as a boy and a young man held him in good stead, as soon after the tournament described in the poem, William caught the attention of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine in a dramatic way: he rescued her from capture during a skirmish with some vassals who were in revolt against the king and queen. She admired his intrepidness as well as his perfect manners and “courtesy” and brought him into the royal household. From there, William’s career went from strength to strength. He became the perfect example of a “most perfect knight,” and his life was used as a marker of excellence—in education, in training, in ability, and in unfailing courtesy—thereafter, even when the History of William Marshal itself was lost.
Tournaments were not the staid affairs that are presented as choreographed exhibitions in modern-day “Renaissance” festivals. They were enactments of battles with sharpened weapons—known as melees—as well as jousting, sword-fighting, and other activities. Knights frequently got hurt in tournaments and not a few were killed. This led kings to ban the presentation of tournaments in their kingdoms by the thirteenth century, although it was almost impossible to prevent them from occurring.
ASK YOURSELF
In what ways does the author of the poem present William Marshal as a very young boy as nobler and more worthy than the grown men who want to kill him in such gruesome ways?
How is King Stephen presented in the poem? In what ways does he perform the role of chivalrous king, in contrast to his soldiers?
In the tournament episode, what makes William Marshal more successful than the other knights? Is his ambition to succeed more important, or is it his “courtesy”?
TOPICS TO CONSIDER
Imagine the education of a young boy and young man in the twelfth century. Consider the kinds of professions an elite young man might be able to aspire to and what he would have to accomplish in order to achieve them.
Consider the notion of “courtesy” or “chivalry” and how this idea contributed to the socialization of young elite people in the Middle Ages. In particular, consider how artificial this idea could be in contrast to the realities of medieval life, which was often quite violent and unpoliced.
Further Information
Crouch, David. William Marshal: Knighthood, War and Chivalry, 1147–1219. 3rd ed. London: Longman, 2016.
Keen, Maurice. Chivalry. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984.