Chapter VIII: Death of the Baronial Class
For centuries, the elected title of the Kingdom of Wales was the last vestige of the ancient Brythonic peoples rule over Britain until its destruction with the Norman conquest of Wales. On the 22nd of July, 1207, the title was reformed and its crown reforged to be placed on a head, both English, French, Saxon and, now, Briton. A new, tri-layered crown was forged from gold, silver and bronze, laid with jewels of all kinds. It was presented to the lords of England, Aquitaine and Wales at a meeting in London to renew their oath of vassalage to John and to the people at the Tournament of Arthur, the victory tournament to showcase the wealth and splendor of one of the most expansive kingdoms in the world.
The tournament would last over a month. After innumerable bouts and butting of heads amongst the lords, the winners were crowned. Baron Godfrey of Arundel, in first place, earned treasures worth over £2 million by modern standards. He was also bestowed several new titles, knighted and inducted into the Order of King Arthur, a new knights order led by John himself. Baron Gerard of Bellême and Gilbert of Caerphilly took second and third, earning another £2 million that was split between them accordingly and John's daughter, Joan, was crowned 'Queen of Love and Beauty'. It was a title that was meant to emphasize her chastity and womanly qualities but, as the girl had grown to be a stunning and promiscuous young lady, it was taken to mean something entirely different in some circles. Still, the lords and the people were pleased with the tourney and its grandiose splendor of gold inlaid banners, endless jellies and constantly flowing fountains of wine. Even happier was John himself. It seemed to be a time to finally relax and simply soak up the warm rays of victory.
This, however, was not to be the case. The lords were moving to extend their powers to their absolute maximum. In East Anglia, the count of Norfolk declared his power greater than his title and announced himself to be the Duke of Norfolk. To the north, in Lincoln, a local lord had gained enormous local clout amongst the barons and mayors of the region and was pronounced the Lord Protector of the Five Boroughs. To the south, the lord of Kent and Sussex, made a move to expand his rule and announced himself to be Duke of Surrey, forcing his neighbor, the lord of Surrey, to declare the Duke as his true liege. To the west, ruling from the borders of Gloucester to the tip of Land's End, the regent lord under the child earl, pronounced that, with the reunification of the Brythonic kingdoms, there would need to be a new lord of Dumonia and declared the child lord of Cornwall. John sat in the sidelines and watched, carefully, as allegiances shifted. He decided that he could not simply let the lords choose what the Tri-Kingdom's internal borders would look like, so he took matters into his own hands and, officially, took a tour of the kingdom. Unofficially, the tour allowed John to move land and shift power to his own advantage and that was something he was going to do to the best of his ability.
Duchess Isabelle of Glamorgan had always been at odds with the king. Ruling Gloucester and a small part of southern Wales, she had expected the title Deheubarth to be rightfully hers and felt betrayed when John had passed it on to William Marshal. While her and John had never seen eye to eye, in this new political climate that demanded the removal of all baronial lords under the kings vassalage and transfer of power to the ducal class, it was in the king's favor to transfer his local vassals in exchange for an alliance of gratitude with the duchess. Worcester, Hereford, Shrewsbury, Stafford and Warwick were given to her to rule. In the blink of an eye, Duchess Isabelle had gone from a second rate power to a force to be reckoned with. Her gratitude to the king was, however, debatable. She saw the transfer of power as something, not granted, but deserved and, while she did appreciate the king's efforts, she still held a grudge over Deheubarth. Her alliegance was questionable, but that was better than nothing for now.
John then approached Duke Hugh, the lord of Norfolk, in an attempt to smooth things over. Norfolk had always been an area of England long abused by John's predecessors and, too a point, by John himself. Since childhood, Hugh had had the injustices of the king ingrained into his psyche to the point that he could not go a moment without fuming with hatred for the king. More than anything and anyone, he wanted to see John overthrown. In an attempt to show goodwill to this newly powerful duke, John granted the county of Essex to Hugh from his own estate. The gesture was in kindness, but it was small and that only infuriated Hugh more. “After so many years, the king deigns to offer tribute to Norfolk and what does he give? A pitiful and shambling waste of a county? His arrogance is almost as great as his buffoonary!”, the duke wrote in his journal. Hugh would have to be watched, but for now his plots and planning could make no headway.
John moved on from Norfolk to the midlands and the trading towns of the Five Boroughs. The de Beaumont family had had strong connections in these lands dating back to the Norman conquest and, while it was startling to see the cities unite behind a common cause, it was less of a surprise that it was the head of that family, Robert de Beaumont, that was elected Lord Protector of the Five Boroughs. Make no mistake, his title was that of a duke, just like his neighbors, but he held more responsibility to his vassals and had to ensure at all times that they would be granted leeway to maximize their trading profits. John knew that these rich and profitable lands were crucial in keeping Norfolk in check and wanted to cull as much favor from Duke Robert as possible. He arrived in the Boroughs in early January of 1208, according to town records. Two days later, by royal seal, he transferred the town of Northampton into the Boroughs. This was a powerful move as Northampton was a rich county itself and its addition to the Boroughs would both expand their land and their trade. With Robert and the merchants of the Boroughs, very pleased, John moved on.
Wintering in Lancaster, and enjoying some quality time with the ever-faithful Roger, John went south to the disputed land of Winchester. Both Duke William of Surrey and Duke Baldwin of Cornwall, under guidance of his regent, claimed the county as their land. Duke William stated that the lands were ancestrally his as he had documents dating back to the Saxon kingdom of Kent, saying that their lands stretched all the way to the borders of Dumonia. Duke Baldwin claimed that those documents were a forgery (modern evidence tends to side with Baldwin on that point) and that, as ruler of the Isle of Wight, the lands were rightfully Cornwall's. The local lord, Prince-Bishop Paul of Winchester claimed sovereignty under God and that he should answer to no one but the King and the Church. After five long days of hearing arguments from all sides, including peasants who came from across Winchester to have their voices heard too, and reading census documents and tax records, John came up with a simple solution. He claimed that the town of Wiltshire, to the northwest of Winchester, was large enough and profitable enough to be its own county with its own lord. He then, based on rivers and farmland, drew a line in the middle of the county and split the one into two. He declared the local lord of Wiltshire, Baroness Ela, to be lord of the county and transferred her under Baldwin, with Winchester, and its furious Prince-Bishop, going to William. Many were angry with this decision, but both William and Baldwin were pleased with the outcome and, to John, that was all that mattered.
John returned home worn out and exhausted. His desk was filled with messages that had never made it to him, waiting to be read, and with work that he had not finished, desperately needing to be done. On July 7th, after a late night of work, John finally collapsed to bed. What happened next would be a bizarre entry into his journals but one that troubled him greatly. “I dreamt a dream most foul last night. I was in a mist, an opaque fog so thick that one could thrust out their own arm and not see the hand from only a few feet away. I was wandering, lost and confused, calling out for anyone to help me find my way when, far into the distance, a bright light ripped forth from the mist. As it came closer, I could start to make out its features. It was enormously bright, clothed in robes as white as a summer's cloud. Its hands and feet were hidden from site and on its face was a mask made of gold. It was giantesque, towering above me, even from a far distance. It came closer, without sound, and acted as if it could not hear or understand my pleas. As it got very close, I woke up with a fright, cold sweat on my brow and my household surrounding me in worry. My dream has truly vexed me. Was it a message from the heavens, sight into things to come or simply a reflection of things passed? I may never know but I will never forget the sight of that being.”
The dream worried John profusely and, even though the rest of the year went by quietly, his paranoia and fears as to his vision's meaning racked his mind. Eventually, as spring of 1209 rolled around, the dream seems to have fallen by the wayside in John's notes. He never stops mentioning it, for the rest of his life, but it never quite bothers him as much as it did again. After all, France had a new king, an odd king, for Boudewijn de Flanders was no Roi but a Koning. What's more, he had made a move, with the assistance of the Pope, to lead a war against the Empire in an Antipapal war over the German Schism. With two great powers butting heads, John decided that now was the time to move against this new German king of France and unite Normandy by taking back Évreux.
Join us next time for the fight over France.