In History Hit’s new documentary, Rebels: Owain Glyndŵr, Professor Michael Livingston, an American conflict analyst, journeys across Wales to uncover the truth behind this extraordinary figure. Michael explores the landscapes and speaks to experts, revealing the deep political and personal grievances that drove a respected lord to become a legendary rebel who almost tore the British Isles apart.

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The spark: a personal affront

For centuries, the English had treated the Welsh as second-class citizens in their own homeland. Since the conquest by Edward I in 1283, English lords had ruled Wales from a “ring of iron” – massive, imposing castles built to stamp out Welsh identity.

Yet, the initial spark for Glyndŵr’s rebellion wasn’t a grand political vision, but a simple, deeply personal dispute. Owain, a loyal subject of the Crown (who had actually fought for Richard II) and a prosperous Welsh lord, had a land dispute with his powerful English neighbour, Reginald de Grey of Ruthin. When the new King, Henry IV, sided with the English lord – a friend – against Owain, it was a step too far. This affront to land held by Owain’s family for generations was the catalyst.

Just two days after being proclaimed Prince of Wales, Owain’s men swept into North Wales, burning the English-held town of Ruthin to the ground. This wasn’t senseless violence; it was a targeted act of rebellion against English authority in a land that had suffered under colonisation for decades. Towns like Ruthin may have been Welsh and filled with Welsh people, but the men in charge were English.

Over the course of a few days, towns across North Wales (such as Denbigh, Rhuddlan and Flint) were destroyed, sending a message that this was Welsh land and the English were no longer welcome. The rebellion spread like wildfire.

The making of a guerrilla army

The English initially dismissed the rebellion, but quickly realised their mistake. King Henry IV, a usurper facing dissent from every corner of his kingdom, was ill-equipped to fight a Welsh rebellion that quickly morphed from a local squabble into a fight for national destiny.

By the middle of 1401, much of North and Mid-Wales supported Glyndŵr’s rebellion. King Henry sent several forces into Wales but Owain’s guerrilla army easily melted into the Welsh mountains, forcing the English to fight a seemingly invisible enemy.

In the documentary, Michael explores how this rebel army armed itself, visiting blacksmith Will Sherman to examine how a common agricultural tool – the bill hook – was easily and quickly sharpened into a deadly weapon, and highly effective against the slow-moving, heavily equipped English forces. Nevertheless, English noblemen began to gather their own forces to defend themselves against the Welsh threat. 

Professor Michael Livingston assists blacksmith Will Sherman in creating a bill hook tool

Image Credit: History Hit

In 1402, Owain burnt down the border town of Knighton, which lay in territory owned by Sir Edmund Mortimer, one of the most powerful men in England. Sensing an opportunity to end the rebellion, Mortimer gathered a large English force of 2,000 men and pursued Owain’s men, numbering 1,500. Subsequently the rebellion came to a head on 22 June 1402, at the Battle of Bryn Glas. Cornered by Mortimer’s forces, Owain expertly retreated his men up a steep hill to set a devastating trap, preparing for battle. 

In the programme, Michael visits the dramatic battlefield at Bryn Glas. This was one of the first battles Michael ever reconstructed, starting him on his career course, but despite having been to Bryn Glas multiple times, this is the first time Michael has been able to use a drone to analyse the terrain and reveal the trap Owain had laid.

The battle site of Bryn Glas, filmed with Professor Michael Livingston’s drone.

While half Owain’s men were at the top of the hill, the other half were hidden in a deep ravine, next to a river that passed up the valley along the side of the hill. When the English were finally provoked enough to charge up the slope, they were met with a deadly hail of projectiles from above, before the hidden Welsh troops swept around to attack their flank. The victory was a massive propaganda coup: Owain had destroyed an English army and captured one of the greatest lords in the realm. The rebellion now had a real chance, with men flocking to Owain’s banner. 

The vision of a new Wales

The English responded to the terror of Bryn Glas with panicked laws designed to suppress Welsh culture and movements, but these only fuelled the cause. Michael meets Dr Jessica Nelson, Head of Collections at the National Archives in Kew, where they study a parliament roll from Henry IV’s reign filled with petitions to suppress the Welsh, showing the depths of English fear. 

Dr Jessica Nelson, Head of Collections at the National Archives in Kew, shows Professor Michael Livingston a parliament roll listing English demands regarding the Welsh.

Image Credit: History Hit

With swelling support, Owain captured the mighty Harlech Castle. Built by Edward I to symbolise English dominance, Harlech Castle had stood, as Michael puts it, ‘as an English island in a Welsh sea’. Michael talks to Dr Rhun Emyln, Medieval Historian at Aberystwyth University, to unpick how Owain captured it in 1404, and to discuss more about how this was not just a military victory; it was a powerful symbolic statement that solidified Owain’s claim as Prince of Wales.

Owain’s ambition grew far beyond military conquest. That same year, he convened the very first Welsh parliament at Machynlleth. There, he laid out his grand vision for an independent Wales, including a Church of Wales, new universities, and a robust foreign policy. Michael examines Owain’s great seal, a powerful symbol used on his official documents sent across Europe, conveying a clear message: this was a man who could govern and could fight.

As Professor Michael Livingston states, “The vision of Owain Glyndŵr for his new Wales is something that I think really sets him apart from other rebels. It’s one thing to try to take power, but quite another to then know what to do with it.”

The seal of Owain Glyndwr

The final showdown

Sensing England’s weakness, Owain made a powerful alliance with two key English conspirators – his former captive, Edmund Mortimer, and Henry Percy, 1st Earl of Northumberland – to fully realise his dream. In February 1405 at Tuckhill, the three met to discuss Owain’s plans to re-write the English borders. This led to the Tripartite Indenture, a radical document that planned not only to overthrow Henry IV but to carve up the British Isles, changing the map of England forever.

Owain had also made another alliance with France, one of the largest and most powerful nations in Europe. With their support, Owain could turn the Tripartite Indenture into reality. In August 1405, a powerful force of French soldiers landed in Wales and marched with Glyndŵr’s men into England. They faced Henry IV’s desperate army across a valley at Woodbury Hill. 

For days, the two armies stood ready for the showdown that would decide the fate of Britain. Yet, for reasons unknown, the battle never happened. The armies retreated, and Owain’s rebellion began its long, slow decline. 

Owain continued the fight for at least another 5 years, but with waning support and renewed pressure from the English. The hope for an independent Wales had gone. Owain’s English conspirators died shortly afterwards – Northumberland died in battle against a royal army in 1408, and Mortimer died during a siege at Harlech Castle in 1409. 

Owain Glyndŵr was never caught, never turned himself in, and was never betrayed. He was last seen by his enemies in 1412 leading an ambush against troops loyal to the English King. After this, he simply disappeared, his final fate unknown. This mysterious end only cemented his legacy. He was lauded by figures like Fidel Castro and Che Guevara as the original guerrilla fighter, and remains today a potent figure of Welsh nationalism.

Join Professor Michael Livingston to explore the epic tale of the man who led a 15-year fight for freedom in Rebels: Owain Glyndŵr.

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In History Hit’s new documentary, Power House: The Medieval Tower of London, Dan Snow goes beyond the well-known history to explore a time of immense change for the Tower in the 13th century. He uncovers how this Norman citadel was transformed into a magnificent, medieval ‘super fortress’ and a royal residence fit for kings.

Join Dan as he pulls back the curtain on this iconic fortress to reveal its hidden history as a medieval powerhouse.

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Not just a prison

The Tower’s full name – His Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress of The Tower of London – offers a powerful clue to its dual purpose. It wasn’t just a military stronghold; it was a bustling royal court and residence, teeming with a diverse community of soldiers, servants, and monarchs. Dan delves into this hidden world, revealing how the Tower was, in every inch, a luxurious medieval palace.

Focusing on the 13th and 14th centuries, the programme explores the royal apartments built under Henry III and Edward I. These have been refurbished to reflect their original grandeur. Dan meets with Dr Charles Farris, the Public Historian for the History of the Monarchy, and the curator of a new palace exhibition containing several original items typical of palace life lent by the London Museum. Inside the restored Royal Apartments in St Thomas’s Tower, Dan is struck by their comfort and elegance, a contrast to the stark, cold image we tend to have of medieval castles.

Dr Farris explains how these rooms would have been lavishly decorated with intricate wall paintings, luxurious hangings, and fine furniture. The new exhibition, which uses original design notes from King Henry III to recreate the vibrant wall paintings that once adorned the queen’s chambers, brings this lost opulence to life. 

Dan Snow talks to Dr Charles Farris, Public Historian for the History of the Monarchy, in the refurbished Royal Apartments, St Thomas’s Tower, Tower of London.

Image Credit: History Hit

An expensive yet essential statement of power

The kings who invested so much in the Tower were not doing so on a whim. In an age of unrest, with the throne itself nearly lost during the reigns of Henry III and his son Edward I, the Tower’s fortifications were essential for security. But the palace served an equally important political purpose: projecting power

Kings like Edward I, often short on money, spent a fortune building such lavish palaces across their kingdom. As Dan learns, the lavish construction and opulent interiors were a deliberate message to visiting foreign dignitaries that England was a formidable, top-tier nation, and as Dr Farris says, “not a country that you mess with”.

Despite this massive investment, the Tower’s royal residents were rarely home. For instance, King Edward I spent a mere 53 days there over his entire 35-year reign, as a king’s rule depended on constant travel to command his vast territories and keep his nobles in check.

The rise of a medieval super fortress

The 13th century was a golden age of building for the Tower. It was constantly upgraded, transforming from a simple Norman stronghold into a multi-layered defensive masterpiece. Under King Henry III and particularly his son Edward I, the Tower was almost a permanent building site.

The documentary explores how Edward I, inspired by the massive castles he saw on crusade, initiated a monumental building project at the Tower. The military upgrade included a new layer of defensive outer walls, a state-of-the-art entrance featuring the Byward and St. Thomas’s Towers, and a permanent wet moat. Dan, guided by the Tower’s Curator of Historic Buildings, Alfred Hawkins, gets a close-up look at these engineering marvels. 

Alfred also shows Dan one of the most incredible surviving relics of this period: the original portcullis of the Byward Tower. Carbon-dated to the 13th century, it is believed to be the oldest working portcullis in England. 

Dan Snow talks to the Tower’s Curator of Historic Buildings, Alfred Hawkins and sees the original portcullis for the Byward Tower.

Image Credit: History Hit

The business of kings

The Tower’s newfound security also had a crucial economic purpose: housing the Royal Mint. Bringing the mint inside the fortress walls was a strategic move to consolidate royal power and control. Dan discovers how the Tower literally became a place for making money, and the relevance of the ‘Byward Angel’ painting in displaying the king’s ‘divine power’.

Ultimately, the Tower of London is a microcosm of medieval kingship, encapsulating within its ancient walls the monarch’s many roles: magnificent ruler, fierce warrior, pious leader, and family man.

Watch Power House: The Medieval Tower of London and see the Tower in a whole new light.

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The Road to Magna Carta

In History Hit’s new documentary series, Magna Carta, Dan Snow and Professor Michael Livingstone explore the seismic shifts in medieval power that culminated in one of history’s most pivotal moments.

The first episode sees Professor Michael Livingston heads to France to explore the continental side of the Magna Carta story – why did Magna Carta get written in the first place? 

Following the first part of this series, in which Michael Livingston investigated the devastating loss of King John’s lands in France and defeat at the Battle of Bouvines, Dan Snow picks up the story in one of the most turbulent years in English history: 1215.

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Why was there a 1225 version?

Originally issued by King John in 1215, Magna Carta was a charter that guaranteed the liberties and rights of his subjects, critically placing the Crown under the authority of the law. Whilst the 1215 Magna Carta is rightly celebrated as the original ‘Great Charter’, the initial document ultimately failed. Within weeks of its agreement, King John swiftly reneged on his granting of the Magna Carta, asking Pope Innocent III for permission to reject it on the grounds that he had been forced to sign it. The pontiff agreed and annulled the document, sparking the outbreak of the First Barons’ War.

However, following King John’s death in October 1216, his young son Henry became king and modified versions of Magna Carta were reissued shortly after in his name, laying the groundwork for a legal document that could truly influence contemporary events and help restore peace.

It was the 1225 reissue of Magna Carta that was pivotal – for the first time, King Henry III was considered old enough to make a personal commitment to rule in accordance with the rules set out in Magna Carta. Issued in his own name on 11 February 1225, it was this version that became the definitive and lasting Magna Carta, shaping English law for centuries to come.

Magna Carta’s enduring legacy

This groundbreaking document is considered a pivotal step in the evolution of human rights, influencing the framing of constitutions worldwide. Outlining basic rights, Magna Carta established the principle that no one, not even the king, was above the law, and notably outlined the fundamental right to a fair trial.

Since 1225, Magna Carta has proven to be a remarkably resilient and inspirational document, forming the bedrock of the rule of law for future generations. Its influence is evident in foundational legal milestones, including:

• The Petition of Right (1628) and the Habeas Corpus Act (1679)
• The fundamental concept of due process in Anglo-American law
• The Constitution of the USA (1789) and its Bill of Rights (1791)

Read our collection of articles about Magna Carta

In Agincourt: The Real Story, historical conflict analyst Dr Mike Livingston journeys through northern France in the footsteps of Henry V and his army, from Harfleur to Agincourt.

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Livingston argues that the traditionally recognised site of the battle incorrectly locates the English position in the French position. Additionally, he wonders if Henry’s strategy alone won him the battle – or whether forces beyond his control proved pivotal.

In the battle, Henry arranged his archers into low long wings either side of his centre, where his dismounted men-at-arms stood between further groups of archers.

“As the French approached, they would be shot at from both sides while the surrounding woods and stakes would prevent his archers from being overrun,” Livingston explains.

Livingston reconstructs the battle with Dr Marina Viallon, medieval arms and armour expert. Ultimately, it saw Henry win a total victory against the French, losing just hundreds of men compared with the thousands of French losses.

Although the French men-at-arms facing them would have been eager and fully protected, wearing a combination of mail and plate armour, and the distinctive pointed helmet known as the pig’s nose bascinet, they had a problem.

“The Dauphin had not yet arrived on the battlefield,” explains Viallon. “Instead the French were being led by various dukes of the realm, and they didn’t always get along. So a lot of other factions were actually fighting for power around the king and so you have four or five different leaders in this army.”

This was their biggest problem, says Viallon. “The English had a clear and strong leader. And the French basically had too many cooks in the kitchen, but no chef.”

Dr Mike Livingston meets with master arrowsmith and fletcher Will Sherman in Agincourt: The Real Story

Image Credit: History Hit

The result was confused command, and commitment to a foiled plan even as conditions on the battlefield turned muddy and difficult.

In this light, victory at Agincourt was not a foregone conclusion for the English, but almost a fluke. “Henry did not even want a fight,” says Livingston. “He tried his best to avoid it but the French caught up to him.”

In Agincourt: The Real Story, Livingston explores the vital role of Henry’s archers, and works with master arrowsmith and fletcher Will Sherman to explore the finely honed technology that helped win the day.

He also investigates whether Henry was seeking battle or running away, exploring whether illness among his troops motivated a return home.

Livingston considers how Agincourt permeated as a tale of bravery and triumph against all the odds, inspiring Shakespeare and thereafter everyone from Churchill to Kenneth Branagh.

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In this 3-part series, History Hit’s medieval expert, Matt Lewis, reveals the previously unknown stories of the ordinary people involved in the Peasants’ Revolt, working closely with investigative historians from the People of 1381 Project, and alongside top medieval historians, including his Gone Medieval co-host, Eleanor Janega, and Richard II biographer, Helen Castor. 

In part one, Matt explores the origins of the rebellion, and the explosive days preceding the violent attack on London on the 13 June 1381.

Life in 14th century England

In the late 14th century, although towns and cities were growing, England’s population was primarily rural. Around 80-85% of the entire medieval European population was classed as a ‘peasant’. The term meant someone was a farmer, but within this categorisation, economic status varied greatly. Some were actually prosperous landowners, even employing staff and servants, with even middle-class peasants fairly well-to-do. However, at least 50% of peasants in England were poor, struggling in subsistence farming, often living hand-to-mouth.

Wealthier peasants (sometimes wealthier than people who were technically nobles due to their land ownership) were generally free men, who could accumulate land and go to market with their goods; ‘serfs’, the lower class of peasants, were tied to their lord’s land, and subject to many restrictions.

In this feudal world, authorities were rarely challenged from below, yet by 1381, escalating taxation had made life increasingly harder for most peasants. The 14th century is generally considered one of the worst times to be alive due to a combination of bad weather (affecting crops, livestock and resulting in the Great Famine), the Black Death, and the ongoing Hundred Years’ War, when many were directed to go to France to fight for the king. Taxation, necessary for funding the war effort, emerged as a central grievance, sparking the Peasant’s Revolt.

The people of Tournai bury victims of the Black Death – by Pierart dou Tielt, circa 1353

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

By Spring 1381, sporadic rioting had occurred in Winchester, Salisbury, Shrewsbury and York against increased taxes. On 30 May in Brentwood, Essex, a royal tax commissioner was forced to flee after peasants, led by Thomas Baker, refused to pay additional taxes and drew weapons upon him. Tensions were high.

Tithe taxes and the poll tax

The tithe, a church tax, required individuals to pay 10% of their income annually. It was often collected at harvest time, usually in a Tithe Barn, enabling people to pay in produce instead of money if needed.

Government taxes, mainly for funding things such as foreign wars, were collected through a fractional tax system. A tax collector would come round every couple of years, assess a peasant’s ‘moveable goods’ (i.e. such as money or other possessions), assess its worth, and charge a percentage of it, usually 10%. Similar to income taxes nowadays, it was reasonably fair.

However, at this time, England was fighting the Hundred Years’ War against France which had strained finances, and the king needed to raise more money. This led to the introduction of the first Poll Tax in 1377. This set a flat rate of 4 pence for everybody over age 14, but whilst this was a day or two’s wages for a labourer, it was virtually nothing to a nobleman. The poll tax didn’t raise as much revenue as expected, although some wealthy clergy voluntarily paid more to help the poor.

Gradually, the church’s tax office became the government’s tax office. In 1379, a second, much more progressive poll tax was introduced, including 33 layers of payment. Whilst still a flat rate, it sought to build on the overpayment by wealthy clergy last time, with payments ranging from 6 pounds, 13 shillings and 4 pence for the richest, to 4 pence for the poorest. Nevertheless the tax was a failure and faced resistance, with the population magically ‘shrinking’ as people hid family members from tax collectors.

In 1381, another poll tax was imposed, back in the form of another unpopular flat-rate tax, demanding 12 pence from every person over the age of 16. Such a large sum was a crushing burden to regular people, sparking widespread suffering and fears of starvation, igniting open revolt. A peasant could be killed by their lord for revolting, but the fact so many risked life and death by doing so highlights how they felt they had no other option.

Rebellion and military expertise

After the events at Brentwood, Essex on 30 May 1381, tensions escalated. A meeting convened in Thomas Baker’s home village of Fobbing on 2 June, attracting widespread support from those ready to make a stand.

On 4 June 1381 the Essex rebels launched an attack on Lesnes Abbey in Kent, targeting tax records crucial for control and taxation by the Church and Crown. This destruction sparked a coordinated revolt, necessitating military expertise.

Between 1370-1400, 100,000 soldiers had been deployed to France – a large portion of able-bodied men from England’s already small population. Consequently, England was full of experienced military personnel, who played a crucial role in leading the initial rebel charge. Society was also heavily armed, with archery practiced by all and peasants often possessing armour, swords, daggers, bows and arrows. 

Peasant longbowmen at practice, from the Luttrell Psalter, c. 1320–1340

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Luttrell Psalter 1325 / Public Domain

Escalation of violence

The rebels were highly organised, and disseminated messages amongst peasants, leading to fires in towns and cities across England, burning crucial documents that upheld medieval society. Rochester Castle, a strategically vital fortress, fell into rebel hands after its constable, Sir John Newington, was taken hostage.

Violence escalated, and one day after the attack on Rochester, rebels reached Canterbury on 10 June – the county capital of Kent and the seat of the most powerful man in the English Church, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury. Although he wasn’t there, the rebels seized the gold and the treasure that he had accumulated, intensifying their anger.

Leaders like Wat Tyler, Jack Straw (who led the Essex rebels), and radical preacher John Ball emerged, the latter advocating for equality and having already been excommunicated for preaching against church wealth.

In need of weapons, peasants armed themselves – all would have had access to a hand-axe, along with other tools turned into makeshift weapons such as a billhook (traditionally used for pruning trees, with spikes added) and a flail (traditionally used for threshing wheat). With its mix of military and improvised weapons, the rebellion spread.

Richard II’s early reign

Richard II had become king aged 10, and by 1381, despite being only 14, he had been king for 4 years. In medieval England, the king’s authority and will was crucial for governance. Having such a young king meant England faced a long period with a king who in effect was too young to rule for himself. Richard’s 3 uncles had stepped-in to help govern, but were perceived as part of England’s problems, particularly John of Gaunt (Duke of Lancaster), who was ambitious and seen as self-serving.

John of Gaunt, although driven by duty to uphold the monarchy for Richard, was viewed as haughty, power-hungry and resistant to criticism or reform, bringing him into direct conflict with those opposed to what he represented. Richard himself believed in his divine rights as king, but lacked a full understanding of the responsibilities and duties his role required.

Move towards London

The same day Wat Tyler led his forces into Canterbury, rebels attacked Cressing Temple in Essex, looting and burning documents. Further incidents occurred at Chelmsford. The different peasant groups had communicated covertly for weeks using military-inspired codes, coordinating their movements towards London.

On 12 June, thousands of men converged on Blackheath, demanding justice and presenting their hostage, Sir John Newington, constable of Rochester Castle, as their envoy to King Richard II at the Tower of London. Newington conveyed the rebels’ grievances, informing Richard II that the rebels meant him no harm and held him as their rightful king, but believed England had not been well governed by his uncles and by the clergy.

During the rebellion, John of Gaunt was away on the northern border, responsible for defence against the Scots, and was thus too far away to do anything, leaving his property and family vulnerable. However the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, was present. As Lord Chancellor, Sudbury was effectively head of the government and had played a key role in enacting the third poll tax that triggered the revolt. Despite resigning, he remained a rebel target, as did Richard II’s uncles who’d governed during his minority.

An image from Froissart’s Chronicle of Richard II meeting the Peasants Revolt.

Image Credit: Bibliotheque Nationale de France / CC

Agreement to meet the rebels

Conflicts had been brewing in parliament over funding for the failing war effort, but government focus on internal issues meant they were blindsided by the sudden uprising of ordinary people.

On 13 June, amidst increasing chaos, King Richard II agreed to meet the rebels at Rotherhithe. However, as the royal barge approached, it was confronted by 10,000 raucous rebels, prompting fear for Richard’s safety. The Earl of Salisbury ordered the barge to turn around, further enraging the crowds, who snapped.

Watch Peasants’ Revolt – Part Two: London’s Burning

The battle culminated in a decisive victory for King Henry IV, including the death of ‘Hotspur’ Percy, the capture of the Earl of Douglas, and the collapse of Hotspur’s rebellion. The lessons learned would also go on to prove crucial at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, one of England’s most important triumphs in the Hundred Years’ War.

Here we explore 10 facts about the battle – many of which feature in our documentary, The Battle of Shrewsbury, where Dan Jones teams-up with Professor Michael Livingston to discover how the battle not only changed the history of England – but put the future Henry V on his own path towards destiny.

1. Rebellion stemmed from the king’s failure to sufficiently reward the Percy family

The powerful Percy family from the north of England had supported the first Lancastrian king, King Henry IV – helping him seize power when he took the throne from Richard II in 1399. King Henry IV’s 16 year old son Henry, known as Hal, was invested as the new Prince of Wales. However the kingdom was still bitterly divided, and numerous plots to topple Henry IV were being concocted.

Head of the Percy family was Henry Percy, the first Earl of Northumberland. By 1399, he was almost 60, so his son, Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy took the lead, quickly becoming acquainted with war, fighting in campaigns along with Edward III and Richard II.

Despite the Percy’s being lavished with money, titles, and land by the new king (and seen as peacekeepers in a new kingdom), they began to feel disgruntled as King Henry IV flexed his royal power. Disagreeing with the king’s governance, Hotspur began to think he might make a better king. In October 1402, Henry IV called parliament, during which he and Hotspur met. It is unclear what was discussed, but after this, Hotspur rode back north with rebellion in mind.

Hotspur had also been successfully campaigning against rebellious Welsh patriot Owain Glyndŵr, but had not received payment for his services. Subsequently, the Percys formed an alliance with Glyndŵr and others discontent with Henry’s rule, including Edward Mortimer, with the aim of conquering and dividing-up England.

2. Sir Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy was named after his fiery temperament

With his fiery temper, energetic leadership, and swiftness in approach to battle, Henry had been nicknamed ‘Hotspur’. The Scots had also praised his incredible speed on his horse, and it was said he must have ‘hot spurs’ on his boots for his horse to run so fast. 

(As the Percy family also owned land in the area known as Northumberland Park and at Tottenham Marshes in London, Henry’s nickname ‘Hotspur’ helped inspire Tottenham Hotspur Football Club, as this land is also where the club played its first games. His name also inspired the team’s famous emblem of a fighting cock.)

3. Upon reaching Shrewsbury, Hotspur’s army had grown to around 5,000 men

Shrewsbury in Shropshire was a bustling transport hub and a centre for the wool trade from Wales – strategic to the royal cause, and a perfect place for the rebels to strike.

Hotspur travelled south to join other rebels and aimed to march on Shrewsbury, mustering a rebel army along his way, including the Cheshire archers. On 9 July 1403, his flag was raised in nearby Chester. Meanwhile, King Henry IV, having decided to extend an olive branch to the Percy family, gathered 1,000 men to march north to help the Percy’s with a routine summer of campaigning against the Scots. However, on 12 July, Henry arrived in Leicester and heard about Hotspur’s rebellion.

For the next 9 days, the three forces under Hotspur, Hal and Henry IV headed to Shrewsbury. When Hotspur arrived, he found Hal’s flag already raised, and the next day, Henry IV’s army appeared, taking Hotspur by surprise. The rebels retreated to the north, while the king’s forces (now numbering 7,000) also made camp, intending battle the next day.

4. The battle only began a few hours before dusk

Both King Henry IV and Hotspur were skilled military leaders, each with considerable support from nobles and soldiers. Both armies faced each other on 21 July 1403, and attempted to negotiate a peaceful compromise for many hours. When this failed, the battle commenced, with only a few daylight hours remaining.

The battle saw fierce fighting between the two sides, with both employing traditional medieval warfare tactics, including archery, cavalry charges, and hand-to-hand combat.

Plan of the battle

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / 'Battles and Battlefields in England' / The British Library / Public Domain

5. The Battle was the first time that massed troops of archers faced each other using the longbow on English soil

The majority of both armies would have been archers. In the 14th century, archers had been the secret weapon of English armies fighting abroad, along with their super weapon of the longbow. This was now in the hands of both sides for the first time, and the battle highlighted its deadly effectiveness, with thousands of arrows in the air at one time.

6. Hotspur held the advantage of higher ground

At the battle’s start, Hotspur and the rebel forces held a slightly elevated position, meaning their arrows were more effective and they did not have to fight uphill. When a gap opened in the right side of the king’s flank, Hotspur seized the opportunity, prompting his men to charge downhill. This resulted in the two lines crashing into each other, descending into hand-to-hand combat.

However while this took place, Prince Hal saw an opening and demonstrated strategic acumen by employing ‘command and control’ tactics. He directed his section of the line to turn inward, attempting to encircle the approaching rebels.

In the melee, Hal was struck in the face by an arrow. Despite this potentially fatal injury, he remarkably pulled the arrow shaft out of his face and continued fighting. This pivotal moment showcased the resilience and leadership of the 16 year old heir to the throne, who, despite a near-fatal encounter, maintained his composure and continued to command his troops.

7. Hotspur was killed when he was shot in the face by an arrow after opening his visor

The key to the battle for the rebels remained the king. After initial success, including bringing down the king’s banner-man, Hotspur launched forwards alone, and was struck and killed. Word of Hotspur’s death quickly spread, abruptly concluding the battle as the rebels’ morale crumbled without their leader.

Death of Henry “Harry Hotspur” Percy, from a 1910 illustration by Richard Caton Woodville Jr.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Richard Caton Woodville Jr. / Public Domain

8. Most rebels were killed during the rout

Casualty numbers were high on both sides, with an estimated 1,500 royalists and even more rebels, including prominent nobles and knights, losing their lives.

Whilst the initial battlefield clash caused significant casualties, the disorderly retreat of the rebels in the rout proved even more deadly. (The rout was the most dangerous part of any battle.) As they fled the battlefield attempting to avoid being cut down, the pursuing royalist forces engaged in a moving massacre, leaving no room for captives as there was no-one to sell them to or ask for a ransom – these men were traitors and rebels to the kingdom.

King Henry IV’s forces emerged victorious, successfully quashing the rebellion. To dispel rumours of Hotspur’s survival, his body was quartered, and various parts were displayed across the country, with his head was impaled on York’s north gate.

However, despite the apparent consolidation of Henry IV’s authority, the Battle of Shrewsbury did not completely eliminate opposition to his rule, and further challenges and conflicts persisted during his reign.

9. Hal, the future King Henry V, received innovative life-saving surgery

After the Battle of Shrewsbury, royal surgeon John Bradmore was entrusted with saving Prince Hal’s life by extracting the arrowhead lodged in his face.

Bradmore documented the entire operation, revealing that the wound was 6 inches deep. Although Hal had pulled out the arrow shaft during the battle, the arrowhead remained lodged in his face near his spine.

To extract the arrowhead, Bradmore devised ‘tents’ using elder rods wrapped in linen, soaked in a mixture of honey and rosewater (which served as an antiseptic to prevent infection). Bradmore began with a thin rod, gently easing it into the wound, progressively using wider rods to reopen the wound.

After several days, he employed a specially designed tool – essentially long smooth tongs with an internal screw mechanism – which he invented and sketched for the records. This tool gripped the arrowhead from the inside, allowing Bradmore to successfully extract it, and in doing so, saved Hal’s life.

10. Lessons from the battle were later deployed at The Battle of Agincourt

The Battle of Shrewsbury had a profound impact on Prince Hal, later known as King Henry V. The brutal lessons learned in this battle influenced his tactics in the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. Remembering the effectiveness of the longbow, Henry V brought a higher ratio of bowmen to infantry than any previous army. Additionally, he included a medical corps, recognising the importance of medicine based on his personal experience after Shrewsbury.

Henry’s experiences at Shrewsbury also shaped Henry’s personal approach to battle. At Shrewsbury, he had been a bold, risk-taker, and the fact this paid off and he survived a potentially fatal wound reinforced his belief in a divine purpose for his life. This spiritual conviction fuelled his sense of destiny to become king.

Without the lessons learned at the Battle of Shrewsbury, there might not have been a Henry V or subsequent victory at Agincourt – a triumph that helped establish England one of the strongest military powers in Europe.

For a man who was only King of England for just over two years, between 26 June 1483 and 22 August 1485, it is astonishing that he still garners such interest. Yet, it should come as little surprise. His reign is a story of high politics, rebellion, death on the battlefield, and the fate of his two young nephews, remembered by history as the Princes in the Tower.

Richard III is alternately remembered as a cruel tyrant and a worthy sovereign. Given the scarcity of evidence and the problems with the available material, the disputes are likely to continue for some time yet.

So, why exactly is Richard III controversial?

The sources

The second half of the 15th century is a bare, rocky chasm between the rich shores of the monk chronicles of the previous centuries and the fertile plains of government records that evolved in Henry VIII’s reign under Thomas Cromwell. There were a few citizen chronicles, such as Warkworth’s, which ends in 1474, and Gregory’s, which concludes even earlier in 1470. They provide useful information but stop before Richard becomes a central figure.

Monks generally no longer kept their local or national accounts of events. They had scribbled away in their cloisters in previous centuries and came with their own set of problems. Still, they were frequently reasonably well informed and at least kept long-term records of the significant events within the kingdom. Knowing a source’s problems is always vital in making the best use of it.

King Richard III

Image Credit: National Portrait Gallery, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Those sources that refer to Richard III’s accession and reign are frequently compiled later, after his death, and during the rule of the Tudor family, who defeated Richard. They often speak in terms of rumours, too, because it seems even those living through some of these events were never quite sure exactly what had gone on.

The Crowland Chronicler is one of the most politically informed commentators but wrote anonymously in 1486, after Bosworth. Despite this apparent freedom to criticise Richard and bolster the fledgling Tudor regime, he actually has some nice things to say about Richard. Most telling of all, his only comment on the Princes in the Tower is that as part of the October Rebellions in 1483, “a rumour was spread that the sons of king Edward before-named had died a violent death, but it was uncertain how”.

The writer never offers his opinion of what happened to the sons of Edward IV, only that a rumour of their death was begun to swell support for a rebellion against Richard. If Crowland didn’t know what had happened, it seems likely no other commentator would.

Mancini: French spy?

“I was insufficiently apprised of the names of those to be described, the intervals of time and the secret designs of men in this whole affair.”

This is how Domenico Mancini begins his account of the events of 1483. He explains that his patron, Archbishop Angelo Cato, has twisted his arm to write down what seems to have been a popular after-dinner talk Mancini had been giving. Thus, he writes:

“… you should not expect from me the names of individuals and places, nor that this account is complete in all particulars: rather it will resemble the likeness of a man, which lacks some of the limbs, and yet the viewer clearly designates it as a man.”

Failing to take his work with a pinch of salt when he has warned us to do so would seem reckless.

Mancini’s patron, Angelo Cato, was in the service of Louis XI of France. Mancini wrote his account in December 1483, by which time Louis had died, leaving behind a 13-year-old son. By 1485, France was embroiled in The Mad War, a civil war for the regency that lasted until 1487.

France had been on the brink of renewing hostilities with England when Edward IV died, shortly followed by Louis XI. It is possible that Mancini was in England as a French spy in the spring of 1483, and certainly, he tailored his story of the terrible English to appeal to a French ear. Speaking no English and bearing a potential political agenda, Mancini is right to urge us to caution in relying on his testimony.

Sir Thomas More

One of the sources most often cited for condemning Richard III is History of King Richard III by Sir Thomas More. More, a lawyer who rose high in the service of Henry VIII, only to fall foul of the executioner’s axe when he refused to back Henry’s break with Rome, is a fascinating figure.

Many consider his testimony almost unquestionable: he would surely have checked his facts as a lawyer and later a saint, had no reason to lie and he had access to people who had lived through the events. Born in 1478, More was five at the time of the events of 1483. He wrote his account from about 1512, left it unfinished, and never published it. More himself never meant us to read it. His nephew finished it and published it years after More’s execution.

More’s account of Richard has been celebrated more as a great literary work than for historical accuracy. Sir Thomas More (1527) by Hans Holbein the Younger.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

In the 16th century, history was a branch of rhetoric. It was not the investigation and retelling of facts as we understand history today. More’s Richard III appears to be a work of allegory. He points to this in his very first sentence. “King Edward of that name the Fourth, after he had lived fifty and three years, seven months, and six days, and thereof reigned two and twenty years, one month, and eight days, died at Westminster the ninth day of April”. Edward IV actually died 19 days short of his 41st birthday. So much for fact-checking.

Interestingly, Henry VII died aged 52. If More’s Edward IV is meant to be read as Henry VII, then Edward V is the promise of a new, young king, which is what everyone expected from Henry VIII in 1509. Richard III represents the destruction of that promise and descent into tyranny, which can be seen in Henry’s early actions, including the executions of Richard Empson and Edmund Dudley. They were killed for doing as Henry VII had instructed them, sacrificed to court popularity.

Perhaps More stopped writing as he rose in royal service, believing he could effect change from the inside. When we consider More’s reliability, like Mancini, his own words should give us pause for thought.

Shakespeare

Believing that Shakespeare should be accepted as a historical account of any history is akin to watching Downton Abbey and taking it as an accurate account of the Crawley family in the early 20th century. Like More, there is an interpretation of Shakespeare’s Richard III that has him hanging a contemporary political message on the mannequin of Richard III. If Shakespeare remained a staunch Catholic, as some theories suggest, he might have pointed to Robert Cecil, the son of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, Elizabeth I’s chief minister.

Robert is known to have suffered from kyphosis, the forward curvature of the spine that Shakespeare’s villain displayed. Richard III’s skeleton has demonstrated that he had scoliosis, but not a limp or withered arm. The audience watches as Richard explains his plans to disrupt the succession and murder anyone in his way, just as Robert Cecil was orchestrating the Protestant succession of James VI of Scotland.

William Hogarth’s depiction of the actor David Garrick as Shakespeare’s Richard III. He is shown to awake from nightmares of the ghosts of those he has murdered.

Image Credit: Walker Art Gallery via Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

So, a large part of the reason debate continues about Richard III’s reputation and the events of 1483, in particular, is the lack of source material to help reach a definitive conclusion. This creates space that only a subjective assessment can fill.

Most people approach the story of Richard III with a firmly embedded pre-conception, and the lack of evidence means that all sides of his story can be argued convincingly, while none can be proven conclusively. Unless new evidence is uncovered, the debate seems likely to continue.

Here are ten of the most important.

1. Bertha of Kent

Bertha, a Frankish princess, was born in the early 560s to Charibert I, King of Paris, and a woman named Ingoberga. She was married off to King Æthelberht of Kent, an Anglo-Saxon pagan. In 597, St Augustine arrived in England to convert the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity.

Bertha is depicted in a stained glass window of the Chapter House, Canterbury Cathedral. Image source: Mattana / CC BY-SA 3.0.

It is widely believed that Bertha was instrumental in persuading her husband to embrace the new religion, as all accounts of St Augustine’s work named her as a prominent figure. Pope Gregory wrote to Bertha in 601, praising what “great succour and what charity you have bestowed upon Augustine”. She was compared to Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine, who persuaded her son to convert to Christianity.

2. Æthelflæd

The eldest daughter of Alfred the Great, Æthelflæd was born in 870, a time when Viking invasions were at their height. By 878, East Anglia and Northumbria were conquered, meaning most of England was under Danish Viking rule.

Æthelflæd in the 13th century Genealogical Chronicle of the English Kings.

Æthelflæd’s father, Alfred, married her to Æthelred to cement a strategic alliance between the surviving English kingdoms. After Æthelred’s death in 911, Æthelflæd ruled Mercia as Lady of the Mercians, where she would transform the balance of power.

She embarked on a defensive rebuilding programme in towns such as Tamworth, Warwick and Bridgnorth, recaptured Derby and was offered loyalty by the Viking leaders of York.

3. Matilda of Flanders

According to legend, when the Norman Duke William the Bastard sent his representative to ask Matilda’s hand in marriage, she retorted she was too high-born to marry a bastard. Furious at this snub, William rode to find Matilda, dragged her off her horse by her long braids and threw her down in the street.

A statue of Matilda of Flanders in the Luxembourg Gardens, Paris. Image source: Jastrow / CC BY 3.0.

Whether such rumours are true or not, the marriage to William – who became William the Conqueror – seemed to be successful. Their 9 children were known for being remarkably well educated, and their daughters were educated at Sainte-Trinité in Caen.

4. Matilda of Scotland

Matilda was the daughter of the English princess Saint Margaret and the Scottish king Malcom III. After a messy succession crisis in Scotland, Matilda married the English king, Henry I, and steadied relations between the two nations.

Matilda of Scotland was the mother of William Adelin and Empress Matilda.

In England, she led a literary and musical court, embarked on building projects for the church and ruled in her husband’s name during his absence.

5. Empress Matilda

Matilda of Scotland’s daughter, also named Matilda, was married to the future Holy Roman Emperor, Henry V. When her brother, William Adelin, died in the White Ship disaster of 1120, Matilda returned to England to be nominated heir.

Empress Matilda in ‘History of England’ by St. Albans monks of the 15th century.

She was an unpopular choice in the Anglo-Norman court. When her father died the throne was taken by Matilda’s cousin, Stephen of Blois, who was backed by the English church. Civil war broke out, and the disorder which prevailed gave this period the name of ‘The Anarchy‘.

On one occasion, Matilda was trapped in Oxford Castle, and escaped across the frozen River Isis in a white sheet to avoid capture. Although never officially crowned Queen of England, Matilda was titled Lady of the English, and her son succeeded the throne as Henry II.

6. Eleanor of Aquitaine

Eleanor was born into the House of Poitiers, a powerful dynasty in southwestern France. As a Duchess of Aquitaine, she was the most eligible bride in Europe. Her marriage to Louis VII of France produced two daughters, but was soon annulled on account of consanguinity.

A 14th century depiction of Eleanor marrying her first husband, Louis. On the right, Louis sets sail for the Second Crusade.

Just eight weeks later, she was engaged to the Duke of Normandy. He became Henry II of England in 1154, beaconing a period of stability after civil war had raged.

Eleanor and Henry had eight children, three of whom became kings. Their marriage broke down when Henry imprisoned Eleanor in 1173 for supporting their son’s revolt against him. After her husband’s death, she acted as regent while Richard the Lionheart went on the Third Crusade.

7. Queen Philippa of Hainault

Married to Edward III for 40 years, Phillipa acted as regent for her husband in 1346, and accompanied his expeditions to Scotland, France and Flanders. The eldest of their thirteen children was Edward, the Black Prince.

Her compassion and kindness made her a popular figure, especially in 1347 when she persuaded her husband to spare the lives of the Burghers of Calais. The Queen’s College in Oxford was founded in her honour.

8. Isabella of Valois

Miniature detailing Richard II of England receiving his six-year-old bride Isabel of Valois from her father Charles VI of France.

Isabella was the daughter of Charles VI of France and Isabeau of Bavaria. At the age of six, she was married to Richard II, who was then 29.

Despite the union acting as a political exercise to improve French and English relations, Richard and Isabella developed a respectful relationship. He regularly visited her in Windsor and entertained her and her ladies-in-waiting.

Richard’s death cut the marriage short, leaving Isabella widowed at the age of 9. She went on to marry Charles, Duke of Orléans and died in childbirth at the age of 19.

Her sister, Catherine, would briefly marry Henry V and give birth to the future Henry VI. Through her second marriage to Owen Tudor, Catherine became the grandmother of the future Henry VII.

9. Anne Neville

As a daughter of Richard Neville, who was known as ‘Warwick the Kingmaker’, Anne was used as an important bargaining chip in the Wars of the Roses. She was originally betrothed to Edward, Prince of Wales, who was the son of Edward IV.

After the death of Prince Edward, she married the Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III. Anne bore a son, Edward of Middleham, who predeceased his parents. Anne also died of tuberculosis in 1485, and later that year Richard was slain at the Battle of Bosworth.

10. Margaret of Anjou

Margaret married King Henry VI, and ruled as Queen of England and France in accordance with the agreements made by Henry V at the Treaty of Troyes. After her husband suffered from bouts of insanity, Margaret ruled in his place.

The marriage of Henry VI and Margaret would break down when Henry suffered bouts of insanity.

Her provocative actions and position as leader of the Lancastrian cause made her a key player in the Wars of the Roses, although she would never enjoy much success. In her final years, she lived in France as a poor relation of the king, and died there aged 52.

As Thomas was confronted by four knights, swords drawn, on the very brink of losing their temper, it is hard to work out what was going through his mind. His reaction to the threat he bravely faced suggests he might have had a plan that required his death that day.

Background

Born on Cheapside in London around 1120, Thomas was provided with a good education that included a spell in Paris. After returning to London in 1141 aged 21, Thomas secured work in the household of Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas’s life was transformed when the period of civil war known as the Anarchy came to an end with the coronation of King Henry II on 19 December 1154.

By the end of January 1155, Thomas was witnessing royal documents as the new king’s chancellor. The office gave Thomas control of the royal chapel and the scriptorium, the king’s writing office. The appointment was at the recommendation of Archbishop Theobald, but no one foresaw the friendship that developed between the king and chancellor.

The New Archbishop

When Archbishop Theobald died on 18 April 1161, Henry summoned Thomas to tell him that he was to be the new Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas protested, asking, ‘How religious, how saintly, is the man whom you would appoint to that holy see, and over so renowned a monastery!’ Henry would not be moved.

At Canterbury, the horrified monks refused to elect Thomas. On 23 May 1162, the brothers were in London to hear that the king was not asking. Thomas was duly elected as the new Archbishop of Canterbury. He had been appointed to hand the king control over the English Church, and he immediately refused to do so. Henry was furious and tried to prosecute Thomas for financial irregularities during his term as chancellor.

Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral. Image Credit: Public Domain

Refusing to be cowed, the archbishop left England to seek refuge in France at the court of Henry’s rival King Louis VII. Over the years that followed, Thomas refused to be reconciled, but his belligerence was proving inconvenient and embarrassing to Louis and Pope Alexander III.

In June 1170, Henry organised the coronation of his son, known as Henry the Young King. As Archbishop of Canterbury, it was Thomas’s prerogative to perform the ceremony, but Henry allowed the Archbishop of York to officiate.

In what looked like a prearranged performance, Louis complained that his daughter Margaret, the Young King’s wife, had been excluded. Henry offered to repeat the ceremony and allow Thomas to crown the couple if he would be reconciled.

Realising his sympathy had been exhausted, Thomas agreed. When he sailed back to England, though, it was with a plan. When he heard that his bishops were gathered at Dover to meet him, Thomas diverted his ship to Sandwich and rushed to Canterbury. His first act was to excommunicate all the bishops involved in the coronation. In dismay, they fired off letters to the king in Normandy.

The Plot

Henry was celebrating Christmas at Bur-le-Roi near Bayeux. What followed was as hotly debated in the immediate aftermath as it has been for the 850 years since. Edward Grim, a monk at Canterbury, recorded that Henry bellowed

‘What miserable drones and traitors have I nurtured and promoted in my household who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a low-born cleric!’

Four knights rose from the feast, rode to the coast, crossed the Channel and made for Canterbury. Reginald FitzUrse, Hugh de Morville, William de Tracy, and Richard le Breton burst into Thomas’ chamber on 29 December 1170. When Thomas refused to lift the excommunications, the knights threatened violence. Thomas waved them away, and they stomped out to collect their weapons.

Miniature of Henry II enthroned, arguing with Thomas Becket. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

The monks ushered Thomas to the altar in the Cathedral, hoping it would offer more protection. The sub-deacon, Hugh the Evil-clerk, led the armed knights back in. ‘Where is Thomas, traitor of the king and kingdom?’ roared one. When no answer came, he bellowed louder ‘Where is the archbishop?’

Thomas pushed his way out of the protective huddle of monks. ‘Here I am, not a traitor to the king but a priest’, Thomas quietly answered. The knights repeated their demand that he reverse the excommunications and Becket refused again. ‘Then you will now die,’ they growled. Thomas assured them calmly ‘I am prepared to die for my Lord’. The knights grabbed at Thomas and tried to drag him outside, but he tightly gripped a pillar.

The Murder

Eventually, Thomas let go, pressed his hands together, leaned forward, stretching his neck out, and began to pray. The monks had scattered in terror, but some rushed back now to protect their archbishop. Grim was among them, and as he raised his arm to shield Thomas, one of the knights swung his sword down, carving into Grim’s arm and skimming Thomas’s scalp. A second blow severed the monk’s limb and crashed into Becket’s head.

A third sent the archbishop to the ground in a crumpled heap as Grim heard him mumble ‘For the name of Jesus and the protection of the church I am ready to embrace death’. A fourth blow sliced the top of Becket’s skull off. The sword shattered on the stone floor in the pool of blood.

Hugh the Evil-clerk stepped on the archbishop’s neck so that his brains poured from his skull into the puddle of gore. ‘We can leave this place, knights,’ Hugh crowed, ‘he will not get up again.’

The Death of Thomas Becket. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

Henry became an international pariah, the murder by his men fodder for his enemies. Thomas was canonised on 21 February 1173, and a cult quickly sprang up around his tomb. In 1174, as threats gathered around his lands, Henry made a pilgrimage to Becket’s tomb, spending the night in tears and prayers. His fortunes were instantly transformed, and Thomas’s saintly reputation was sealed.

The Mystery

The lingering question is why things ended the way they did on 29 December 1170. Henry always denied that he meant for Thomas to be murdered. The four knights disappeared in shame. But had Thomas planned his death that day? He knew his opposition to Henry was floundering. Martyrdom may have been the ace up his sleeve.

Thomas deliberately wound the knights up into a frenzy. When they tried to drag him outside, he refused to leave the cathedral because it was the perfect place for the moment to play out. Spotting the tipping point in his attackers’ rage, Thomas suddenly, calmly offered himself as a sacrifice. He bravely withstood several blows with no effort to protect himself or escape.

Thomas Becket had refused to give up his defiance of King Henry’s desire to control the church. Martyrdom offered victory, and it worked. Henry dropped his plans. Thomas Becket faced his death with astonishing bravery, and his murder would redefine his reputation and Henry II’s kingship.


Background

At the beginning of the 13th century, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, King of Gwynedd in North Wales, married an illegitimate daughter of King John. By 1210, relations were worsening, and in 1215, Llywelyn sided with the barons that forced Magna Carta on John. In the following year he was able to use the problems in England to establish his own dominance over the other princes of Wales, a position he would retain until his death in 1240.

Remembered as Llywelyn the Great, he was succeeded by his son Dafydd, who imprisoned his brothers Gruffydd and Owain. Both brothers were then handed over to Henry III of England as hostages.

Gruffydd died in 1244 trying to escape from the Tower of London by tying sheets together to climb out of his cell window. The makeshift rope broke, and Gruffydd fell to his death. The window he used was bricked up, but can still be made out today.

Gruffydd’s son Llywelyn supported his uncle Dafydd in the brutal fighting with the English that followed. When Dafydd died in February 1246, Llywelyn was able to claim his uncle’s lands and titles.

A New Rivalry

On 14 February 1254, Henry made some provisions for his son Edward, the future Edward I, by making him Earl of Chester and giving him castles in Wales. In 1256, a long rivalry was begun when Llywelyn tried to expand his holdings by attacking Edward’s properties.

With the English unable to catch the Welsh and Llywelyn unwilling to risk a pitched battle, an uneasy peace was agreed. As Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester fell into dispute with King Henry in the 1260s, Llywelyn allied himself with the rebels, as his grandfather had done, to try and make further gains. Targeting Prince Edward’s lands again, the alliance fell apart when Edward concluded peace with the de Montfort family.

At the Battle of Lewes on 14 May 1264, King Henry and Prince Edward were both captured by Simon de Montfort, who took control of the government. Llywelyn negotiated the Treaty of Pipton, which was sealed on 22 June 1265, and recognised Llywelyn as Prince of Wales in return for a payment of 30,000 marks.

Within two months, de Montfort was defeated and killed at the Battle of Evesham on 4 August, restoring King Henry and negating the Treaty of Pipton. Llywelyn’s continued resistance combined with ongoing problems in England forced Henry to negotiate the Treaty of Montgomery, finalised on 29 September 1267.

Llywelyn was recognised as Prince of Wales but was required to give homage to the English crown for his control of Wales and pay 3,000 marks a year. This peace would endure for the rest of Henry III’s reign.

Llywelyn ap Gruffudd paying homage to King Henry II. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

Rising Tensions

King Edward I succeeded his father in 1272 but was on crusade in the Holy Land. The task of running England was given to three barons, one of whom, Roger Mortimer, was a rival of Llywelyn’s on the Welsh borders. Mortimer backed an attempt to take Brycheiniog Castle from Llywelyn and conflict erupted again.

Edward retained a strong dislike for Llywelyn, possibly holding a grudge stemming from earlier attacks on his lands. Edward would always have an abrasive relationship with London after the city had harassed his mother during a revolt against his father.

Llywelyn tried to revive his alliance with the de Montfort family by arranging a marriage to Simon’s daughter Eleanor, a first cousin of the king, despite the family’s fall from influence. Edward ordered the Prince of Wales to come to him on several occasions and renew his homage, but Llywelyn refused, claiming he feared for his life.

Edward I’s Invasion of Wales

In 1277, Edward took a large army into Wales after declaring Llywelyn a traitor. The king managed to march far into North Wales and sent a second force to Anglesey to seize the island and the harvest there. By November, Llywelyn was forced to agree to the Treaty of Aberconwy. He kept his lands west of the River Conwy but lost those to the east to his brother Dafydd.

Edward I, also known as Edward “Longshanks”. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

Although he kept his princely title after giving homage to Edward, Llywelyn lost control over the other rulers of Wales and with no mechanism to pass his overlordship to anyone else, the office of Prince of Wales would die with Llywelyn. The first part of Edward’s campaign to conquer and subdue Wales was completed by the construction of castles around Gwynedd, encircling Llywelyn’s dwindling power base.

In 1282, Llywelyn, now around 60 years old, found those Welsh princes who had been lured away by Edward looking to return to him to escape the uncomfortable grip of the English crown. Llywelyn’s brother Dafydd began an offensive, and though Llywelyn claimed he was not involved at all, he nevertheless offered his brother support. Edward’s new castle at Aberystwyth was burnt down, and Carrey Cennen Castle was taken.

The king sought to repeat his success in 1277 by invading Gwynedd from the east and taking Anglesey. Luke de Tany quickly took the island and its harvest again, but then tried to cross the Menai Straights to attack Llywelyn without waiting for Edward. Alert to the threat, Llywelyn met the English force at the Battle of Moel-y-don on 6 November and drove them back into the sea.

Walter of Guisborough recorded that ‘The Welsh came from the high mountains and attacked them, and in fear and trepidation for the great number of the enemy, our men preferred to face the sea than the enemy. They went into the sea but, heavily laden with arms, they were instantly drowned.’

Llywelyn’s Downfall

Llywelyn moved south. At Builth Wells he was confronted by an alliance of English Marcher lords and Welsh princes. On 11 December, they fought the Battle of Orwin Bridge where the English cavalry and archers outmatched the Welsh spearmen.

Llywelyn was reported to have been absent when the battle began, negotiating with a local lord, but quickly returned when he heard the news. As he approached the fighting, Llywelyn was killed by an English soldier who had not recognised him.

Death of Llywelyn. Illustrations and photographs of places and events in Welsh history from a childrens book, ‘Flame Bearers of Welsh History’. (Image Credit: National Library of Wales, Public Domain).

It was the next day before his body was recovered. His corpse was decapitated, and the head sent to Edward before being placed on the gatehouse of the Tower of London. The gruesome trophy remained there for at least fifteen years.

Dafydd was captured in June 1483 and hung, drawn, and quartered. After that, Edward stormed into Gwynedd and stripped it of all royal regalia, destroying the position of Prince of Wales. He would later create his son Prince of Wales, a tradition that endures to this day, but Llywelyn the Last was Wales’s last native Prince of Wales.

Llywelyn ap Gruffydd statue. (Image Credit: CC).