brother’s rule of the duchy.
Robert, ever generous and still inconsolable following Sybilla’s death, failed to respond. Sweyn and I tried to persuade him otherwise, but he always saw the good in people rather than the bad and, given that our warrior instincts were also diminished by our own recent experiences, we found it hard to disabuse him of such noble sentiments.
We were getting older, Robert’s stalwarts in Normandy were getting older, while Henry and many of his supporters were in their prime.
The King had taken great pains, and spent a great deal of money, to cultivate the young Prince Louis, heir to the French throne, whose father, King Philip, once our great friend and powerful ally, was also ageing, becoming more and more corpulent and distracted from the affairs of state by countless nubile concubines at court.
On several occasions, we forced Robert to look at the noose that Henry was tightening around the neck of Normandy, but he chose not to react. Eventually, in exasperation, one night after dinner at his palace in Rouen, we confronted him. He had been in a better mood at table and I suspected he had been finding comfort with a strapping young maid at court, the daughter of a lord from Alsace. We used the comradeship of our Brethren to try to goad him, but Robert was dismissive of our concerns at first.
‘It has nothing to do with our Brethren — this is a matter between Rufus and me, and the people of Normandy.’
‘Robert, Sweyn and I are closer to you than anyone, please listen to us.’
‘I am listening.’
‘But you are not acting on our advice.’
‘Our friendship requires me to listen to your advice, but not necessarily to do as you suggest.’
Sweyn rarely spoke when Robert and I were at odds over big issues, but this time he intervened.
‘Edgar is right, the threat is very real. You must make a move to protect yourself.’
‘Thank you, Sweyn, I respect your opinion — and yours, of course, Edgar — but my mind is clear. An invasion will come, it is as certain as the sun rising in the morning. But what will be, will be. When we hear that Henry is building ships, we will start planning. Edgar, we’ve been together through many battles and have fought men much more fearsome than my little brother. My father managed to invade England by sea and succeeded by the skin of his teeth. It will be much more difficult to invade Normandy and succeed. Don’t worry. If Henry does invade, when he’s lying dead on the battlefield and I become King, I will install you as my Prince Regent and England will be yours at long last.’
While Robert’s promise might have seemed tempting, neither Sweyn nor I thought a victory for Robert a likely result. Henry had shown himself to be very much in his father’s mould — unlike Robert, who was his antithesis.
If a shrewd man were to gamble on the outcome of the fight, it was obvious where he would place his wager.
Robert was as stubborn as he was likeable, but Sweyn and I both felt anxious for him. It was almost as if he was hoping Rufus would take the heavy burden of Normandy’s dukedom from his weary shoulders.
35. Battle of Tinchebrai
Henry’s aggression in Lower Normandy escalated. Bayeux was burned to the ground, Caen was forced to open its gates to him, and then he moved on Falaise. The threat to Falaise, his father’s birthplace and home to his now legendary grandmother, Herleve, finally prompted Robert into action; but he did not summon his army, he went to negotiate.
They met midway between Caen and Falaise. After two days of bitter argument, where Henry’s naked ambition was all too apparent, the two brothers parted acrimoniously, shouting insults at one another.
Robert seemed to be newly invigorated by the abuse thrown at him and decided on a tactic worthy of the bold strategies of the Princes in the Holy Land. He decided to sail for England with only two dozen loyal supporters, walk straight into the King’s Hall at Winchester and get him to see sense by force of argument. No amount of hectoring on our part would convince Robert of the naivety of his plan and so, in late January 1106, we set sail.
Inevitably, the King, although initially shaken by the sudden appearance of his brother, who literally hammered on the doors of Winchester at the break of dawn, was unmoved.
‘There is unrest all over Normandy at the stagnant nature of your rule. The sad loss of Sybilla has neutered you; Normandy has always needed strong leadership, and you are not giving it.’
‘Henry, you will not provoke me with insults and cruel comments about Sybilla’s death. The truth is, we have a treaty, which Edgar, your good friend and mine, negotiated. All I am asking is for you to honour it.’
‘My loyalty to my father and my ancestral homeland prevents me from honouring it. I am approached every day by men who beg me to give them leadership.’
‘My brother, you are deluding yourself, or engaging in a wicked scheme to serve your own interests. Please let it not be the latter.’
‘It is neither; my only interest is Normandy’s future security.’
Henry’s implacability finally convinced Robert that there was no more to be said.
We took the next tide to Normandy and prepared for war.
Robert’s generosity — or, as some would put it, his impotence — in dealing with his brother’s threats soon began to exact a telling price. Henry had persuaded many of Normandy’s most powerful men that he was a better option for the duchy than its duke. To his dismay, when Robert called for his supporters to join him with their knights, few were forthcoming. Of the most senior men, William of Mortain, the deposed Earl of Cornwall, and Robert of Belleme, Earl of Shrewsbury, were the only ones to hear the rallying call.
On the other hand, King Henry had built up a significant force, far outnumbering Robert’s army. He had returned to Lower Normandy shortly after we had, and immediately began to prepare for battle.
Henry’s final provocation, the laying down of the gauntlet, came in September 1106. The King advanced south from Falaise with a large army towards the small settlement of Tinchebrai, part of the lands belonging to William of Mortain. He could have overwhelmed the fortress within the hour, but instead besieged it, as a lure with which to entice us. Count William immediately appealed to Robert for help and we duly rode west, preparing ourselves to withstand the jaws of the trap that had been set for us.
Robert knew the trap was primed and that our prospects were not the best, but several layers of pride were steeling him for the encounter: his Norman ancestry, the legacy of Palestine, and his innate decency which compelled him to behave honourably.
When we arrived, Robert demanded that Henry lift the siege, to which Henry responded by offering Robert an annual pension and a quiet life in exchange for Normandy.
I looked at Sweyn; we were almost tempted to suggest to Robert that he should agree, but then thought better of it. First of all, it was hardly an offer worthy of a noble duke of any stature, let alone that of Robert, and secondly, Henry’s promises did not have much of a reputation.
Robert did not even respond to Henry’s offer. Instead, he ordered that we make camp and meet to discuss our tactics.
Our scouts had reported on King Henry’s disposition. We were outnumbered by about three to one. Robert had his personal squadron, the elite cavalry unit formed by his father — now called the Sybilla Squadron — and a strong deployment of archers and infantry. He would take the centre ground with Hugh Percy, Sweyn and I standing with him. William of Mortain would take the left flank, while Roger of Belleme took the right.
We mustered 300 knights and 3,000 infantry.
King Henry had nearly 1,000 knights and at least 8,000 infantry, many of whom were Englishmen.
Early the next morning, the King took a position to the rear, with his reserves, while Ralph of Bayeux, Robert Beaumont and William II of Warenne led his centre, left and right flanks respectively. Helias, Count of Saint Saens, led Henry’s Breton and Manceaux cavalry.
For Robert Beaumont, the highly respected, wily old campaigner, it must have been a particularly poignant moment. Now sixty years old, a lifetime ago he had led the right flank of the army of Robert and Henry’s father at
