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Marriage: Children:
  1. William Marshal: Birth: 1190 in Normandy, France. Death: 24 Apr 1231 in England

  2. Maud Matilda Marshal: Birth: 1192 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: 27 Mar 1248 in Monmouthshire, Wales

  3. Richard Marshal: Birth: 1194 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: 16 Apr 1234 in Kilkonny Castle

  4. Gilbert Mareschal: Birth: Abt 1196 in Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales. Death: 27 Jun 1241 in Fell Off Horse In Tournament At Ware, Herts.

  5. Walter Marshal: Birth: Aft 1198 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: 24 Nov 1245 in Goodrich Castle,

  6. William II Marshall: Birth: May 1198 in Pembroke, Dyfed County, Wales. Death: 24 Apr 1231 in London, England

  7. Maude Matilda Marshal: Birth: Abt 1200 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales. Death: 27 Mar 1248 in Norfolk County, England

  8. Isabel Marshal: Birth: 9 Oct 1200 in Pembroke Castle, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales. Death: 16 Jan 1239 in Berkhamsted Castle, Herefordshire, England

  9. Sybil Marshall: Birth: 1201 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: 27 Apr 1245 in Derbyshire, England

  10. Anselem Marshall: Birth: 1202 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: Abt 22 Dec 1245 in Chepstow, Monmouthshire, England

  11. Joan Marshal: Birth: 1202 in Pembroke, Dyfed County, Wales. Death: Aft 1234

  12. Joane Marshal: Birth: Abt 1202 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales.

  13. Eve Marshall: Birth: 1206 in Pembroke, Wales. Death: Bef 1246 in Brecknock, Surrey, England

  14. Eva Marshal: Birth: Abt 1206 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales. Death: 1246 in Llanthony, Gloucester, England

  15. Person Not Viewable


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Notes
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Note:   (Research):William Marshal was the Marshal of England, Protector of the Realm and Regent of England from 1216 to 1219. A man of superior ability and exemplary character, he served four British monarchs as a royal advisor and as a warrior of outstanding prowess. His life has been summarized in the biography by Sidney Painter: William Marshal: Baron, Knight-Errant, Baron and Regent of England, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1982 ISBN 0802064981. Richard Thomson in his An Historical Essay on the Magna Charta of King John, London, 1829; writes on Pages 288: "The Earl of Pembroke has received a noble character from all the historians who have mentioned him. He was termed through the world a most renowned and powerful Knight; Governor both of the realm and the King's person; a man of such worthiness, both in stoutness of stomach and martial knowledge, as England had few then which might be compared with him." Robert Sewell TITLE: 3rd Earl of PEMBROKE Marshal of ENGLAND Regent, 1216-1219 NOTE: Ancestral File Number: 84ZX-0D [1beaufort1371.FTW] [2holland1384.ged] 3rd Earl of Pembroke, Marshal of England, Regent 1216-19. He was named in the preamble of the Magna Charta in 1215. SOURCES: Burke, "The Complete Peerage", vol IV, pp 196-199 and vol X, p 358; Weis "The Magna Charta Sureties, 1215", 5th Edition, p 179, Line 1545-1. William learned fencing and other Knightly arts from his relative William of Tankerville, hereditary Chamberlain of Normandy and was Knighted in Normandy. His uncle was Patrick, Earl of Salisbury. A few years later he became the Martial tutor of Henry II's oldest son, Henry and gained a great reputation as a Knight. When young Prince Henry died (1183) he allied himself with Richard (the Lionhearted). When Richard became King, he married William Marshal off to Isabel de Clare daughter and heir of Richard, "Strongbow" de Clare, which gave him extensive lands in England, Wales and Ireland and over 200 knights at his command. In 1194 when his older brother John Marshal died, he also inherited the family estates and the title "Marshal of England". When King Richard died, King John conferred the title to Earl of Pembroke on William, in 1199, but in 1204 to avoid the controversy with the barons, he went to Ireland where he remained. He was recalled to court in 1215 and advised King John to grant the Magna Charta. After John died in 1216, Richard was chosen regent and served for young Henry III. In this capacity he suppressed the revolt and restored law and order. He reissued a slightly revised version of the Magna Charta about 1219. Sidney Painter in Collier's Encyclopedia, pg 541-2, Vol. 18, 1966. 3rd Earl of Pembroke, Marshal of England, Regent 1216-19. He was named in the preamble of the Magna Charta in 1215. SOURCES: Burke, "The Complete Peerage", vol IV, pp 196-199 and vol X, p 358; Weis "The Magna Charta Sureties, 1215", 5th Edition, p 179, Line 1545-1. �WName: William I MARSHAL 1 2 3 4 5 6 �WBirth: 12 MAY 1146 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales �WBaptism: 12 MAY 1146 �WBurial: Temple Church, London, England �WChristening: 12 MAY 1146 �WALIA: William \\Marshal of England\\ �WTitle: Sir \\Earl of Pembroke\\ �WReference Number: 1547 �WOccupation: The Marshal of England. Lord of Pembroke, Netherwent, Leinster, Orbec. 7 8 �WEvent: Appointed 3rd Earl of Pembroke & Strigoil. 9 10 �WEvent: Record Change 06 JAN 2006 �WEvent: Alt. Birth 1146 of Caversham, England 11 12 13 14 �WEvent: Alt. Death MAY 1219 Round Chapel, London, Middlesex, England �WEvent: Alt (Facts) Protector of the Realm, Regent of the Kingdom 1216-1219. 9 15 �WEvent: Aka (Facts Pg) Known as "The Protector". Great statesman & strategist. �WEvent: Title (Facts Pg) 4th Earl of Pembroke. The Marshal of England. Pembroke, Netherwent, Leinster, Orbec, Bienfaite �WEvent: Alt. Burial MAY 1219 Round Chapel, London, Middlesex, England �WEvent: Acceded Acceded: 1189 by his marriage. Interred: Temple Church, London. 16 17 �WEvent: Entrusted w Reigned 1214 Government during John's abortive Normandy campaign. 18 �WEvent: Bullet 1215 named in MAGNA CHARTA, King John advisor �WDeath: 14 MAY 1219 in Caversham Manor, Oxfordshire, England 19 19 20 20 19 19 19 19 �WName: 3rd Earl of Pembroke"the William MARSHAL 21 22 22 22 23 22 24 25 23 22 24 25 26 24 26 24 23 22 24 23 24 23 22 24 25 23 22 24 25 �WName: William MARSHALL �WBirth: Rockley, Marlborough, Wiltshire, England in Alternate POB given �WBirth: 1146 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales 19 19 20 20 19 19 19 19 �WBurial: MAY 1219 Temple Church, London, England 19 19 20 20 19 19 19 19 �WOccupation: Constable of Ireland; Lord Marshall of Ireland �WEvent: Alt. Death 14 MAY 1219 Caversham, Berkshire, England 27 28 29 30 �WEvent: Alt (Facts) "A man of superior ability & exemplary character." 9 �WEvent: Alt (Facts) Named in the Magna Charta, 1215. 9 �WEvent: Aka (Facts Pg) Lord of Bienfaite, half Giffard. Burial Place: Round Chapel Of Knight's Temple, London, Middlesex, England. Father: John MARSHALL b: ABT 1126 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Mother: Sybill D' EVEREAUX b: ABT 1127 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Marriage 1 Isabel de CLARE Countes Pembroke b: ABT 1173 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Married: Aug 1189 in London, Middlesex, England Children Margaret MARSHALL b: ABT 1190 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Maud (Matilda) MARSHALL Countess Norfolk b: ABT 1192 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Eve MARSHALL b: ABT 1194 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Gilbert MARSHALL Earl of Pembroke b: ABT 1196 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales William MARSHALL Earl of Pembroke b: May 1198 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Richard MARSHALL Earl of Pembroke b: ABT 1200 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Joane MARSHALL b: ABT 1202 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Anselm MARSHALL Earl of Pembroke b: ABT 1204 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Isabel MARSHALL Countess Cornwal b: ABT 1206 in , Pembrokeshire, Wales WalterMARSHALL Earl of Pembroke b: ABT 1206 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Sibyl MARSHALL b: 1209 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, WalesMarshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of amiddling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly theyconsisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royalhousehold, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking afterthe stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their militaryservice, and checking the accounts of various household and statedepartments. From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by hissquire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and mostfascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfthand early thirteenth centuries. His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindlydescribes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man wholoved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. Atfirst he supported Stephen but, when he began to realise the failings ofthe King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides.Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery andhardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in hiscastle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerouslyslowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her toride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. Hisforce was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John tookrefuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptlyset fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in thetower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move tosurrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the twosoldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convincedthat they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant,to John's castle. He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as anincident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. KingStephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John todefend; the castellan, realising that provisions and the garrison wereboth too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform hismaster. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at oncerelieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let hismaster down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, sohe asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed hismistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not toprovision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did,and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if hedid not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he hadhammer and anvils to forge a better child than William. The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephenrelented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though hisofficers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over thecastle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grewattached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementaryform of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servantof his mother, the lady Sibile (sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peepingin to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and theservant had to run for his life. The child did not know what dangers hewas running, but it was good and early training for his future career. When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of hisfather's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeshipin knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn byexperience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honourthat went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to goround the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils.He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliesttournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to takethe plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of thedangerous folly of such quixotic behaviour---a good war-horse capturedfrom an unseated opponent could fetch �40. Even so, his heart was reallyset upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced asa youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutralterritory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knightsoutside commenting on how well he was fighting. He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he couldnot live off honour; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and militarytutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, alreadycrowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitlessattempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make theyoung King a knight. Henry seems to have had a good sense of humour, for in 1176 when the twowere cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to baganother knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. Alow-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry keptwhat he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William whenthey got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom. Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast couldattend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained arecord number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to anineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In tenmonths William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights,and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those dayswas having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his headon an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Anothermemory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing withthe ladies who had come to watch---in full armour! Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumours that he wasthe lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not failto mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediatelyinundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage hisservices---three times he was offered �500 a year or more, but he turnedthem down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne. He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it wasonly to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that hewould carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried hismaster, he carried out his promise. He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of theKing, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought himthe Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales andIreland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when hewas covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into PrinceRichard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By thelegs of God, Marshal, do not kill me,' and William killed his horseinstead. Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showedthe Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade hemade William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to helpWilliam de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellenttraining in administration and justice, which was to stand William ingood stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater thanthose with which a simple soldier can deal. It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficultPrince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended toleave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidatehis position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard hadbeen captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiffransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added tohis normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check andraising a vast sum of money. Richard returned to find William a wise counsellor now as well as anincomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, andWilliam worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John.This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known. For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to theMarshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to bedone about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the orderof the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he hadonly this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are liketorches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.' Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy,William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find aformula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France.What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearingthat William was going over to the French side, confiscated all hiscastles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages. So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vastestates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in anarea in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made wascountered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced.However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despitethe royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made. Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whomJohn regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again.Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer tofight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up thechallenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favourwith the King. But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn wherehis true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into supportfor the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope,and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles inorder in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating forcewas Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to beassociated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John toaccede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate. In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royalforces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his Frenchtroops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badlymisjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years ofsuspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle ofDunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he hadforgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar thatWilliam was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without asecret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given. Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemyhands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realised the worthof the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit thekingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death. William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and theposition seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John ofEarley, his squire, pointed out what honour there was to be won, andchanged his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart thatif all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do? Iwould carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle,from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced tobeg my bread.' Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided therich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. Hesent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, temptingthem to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisiveblow, at Lincoln in May 1217. There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester whofound a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many ashout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mar�echal!' Finally they reached the open spacein front of the cathedral where William personally captured the Frenchcommander and received three massive blows which left dents in hishelmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long forthe King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war wasalmost won. The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcementscoming from France, and then set about making peace. He wasgenerous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there wasno victimisation, and little recrimination. The speediest route back topeace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civilwar. This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period ofreconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom andworry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the oldman. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides weresatisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion.Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses ofwar, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had toban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions beingtaken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---thegreatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better thananything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions andtrying desperately to balance the budget. He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he wastaken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went butcould do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights andretainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up riverto his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and hishousehold went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, thepapal legate, and the the highest officers of state. He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he shouldfollow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. Heworried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-onewho could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. Hemade his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for hisyoung son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he couldmake his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered anunmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care ofher.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries,crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he hadthoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, andgave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral. He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of theorder came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are goingto kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all thearrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and waitcomfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of themwas worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not giveback everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if hewere damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are toohard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that allthe rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have notthe heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice.Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. Thiswill be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religiousman---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty. In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said toJohn of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when Johnurged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him itwould do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. Sothey called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly,overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice andsing with grace. On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all thedoors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There wassuch a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve theMarshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except bythe dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and thendied with his eyes fixed upon the cross. The cort�ege moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, andthere William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over thegrave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. Youwill all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror,you and I. Let each man say his paternoster that God may receive thisChristian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as heso well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes &Noble Books, New York, 1995] ---------- William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal tothe king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebelliousson of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidentialfriend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of theClares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in whichrank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at thecoronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king'spurposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants toHugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice ofEngland, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king'shouse, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronationof King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke,being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In thefirst year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff ofGloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued forseveral years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co.Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four yearsafterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province ofLeinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembrokewas deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertainthe grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise ofKing John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint aday for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian,by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance.He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving avictory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, andinvesting that great city, both by land and water, reduced it toextremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded,it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office ofsheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in thecouncil and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment tothe church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ampletestimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s.each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan,Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldestson, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earlof Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, havingthen a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219,having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard,Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembrokeand Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245,the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster wasdivided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh leBigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [SirBernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland] Marshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of amiddling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly theyconsisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royalhousehold, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking afterthe stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their militaryservice, and checking the accounts of various household and statedepartments. From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by hissquire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and mostfascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfthand early thirteenth centuries. His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindlydescribes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man wholoved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. Atfirst he supported Stephen but, when he began to realise the failings ofthe King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides.Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery andhardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in hiscastle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerouslyslowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her toride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. Hisforce was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John tookrefuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptlyset fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in thetower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move tosurrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the twosoldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convincedthat they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant,to John's castle. He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as anincident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. KingStephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John todefend; the castellan, realising that provisions and the garrison wereboth too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform hismaster. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at oncerelieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let hismaster down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, sohe asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed hismistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not toprovision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did,and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if hedid not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he hadhammer and anvils to forge a better child than William. The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephenrelented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though hisofficers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over thecastle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grewattached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementaryform of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servantof his mother, the lady Sibile (sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peepingin to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and theservant had to run for his life. The child did not know what dangers hewas running, but it was good and early training for his future career. When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of hisfather's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeshipin knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn byexperience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honourthat went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to goround the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils.He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliesttournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to takethe plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of thedangerous folly of such quixotic behaviour---a good war-horse capturedfrom an unseated opponent could fetch �40. Even so, his heart was reallyset upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced asa youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutralterritory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knightsoutside commenting on how well he was fighting. He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he couldnot live off honour; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and militarytutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, alreadycrowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitlessattempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make theyoung King a knight. Henry seems to have had a good sense of humour, for in 1176 when the twowere cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to baganother knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. Alow-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry keptwhat he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William whenthey got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom. Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast couldattend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained arecord number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to anineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In tenmonths William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights,and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those dayswas having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his headon an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Anothermemory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing withthe ladies who had come to watch---in full armour! Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumours that he wasthe lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not failto mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediatelyinundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage hisservices---three times he was offered �500 a year or more, but he turnedthem down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne. He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it wasonly to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that hewould carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried hismaster, he carried out his promise. He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of theKing, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought himthe Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales andIreland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when hewas covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into PrinceRichard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By thelegs of God, Marshal, do not kill me,' and William killed his horseinstead. Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showedthe Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade hemade William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to helpWilliam de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellenttraining in administration and justice, which was to stand William ingood stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater thanthose with which a simple soldier can deal. It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficultPrince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended toleave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidatehis position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard hadbeen captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiffransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added tohis normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check andraising a vast sum of money. Richard returned to find William a wise counsellor now as well as anincomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, andWilliam worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John.This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known. For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to theMarshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to bedone about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the orderof the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he hadonly this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are liketorches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.' Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy,William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find aformula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France.What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearingthat William was going over to the French side, confiscated all hiscastles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages. So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vastestates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in anarea in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made wascountered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced.However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despitethe royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made. Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whomJohn regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again.Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer tofight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up thechallenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favourwith the King. But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn wherehis true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into supportfor the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope,and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles inorder in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating forcewas Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to beassociated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John toaccede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate. In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royalforces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his Frenchtroops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badlymisjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years ofsuspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle ofDunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he hadforgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar thatWilliam was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without asecret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given. Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemyhands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realised the worthof the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit thekingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death. William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and theposition seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John ofEarley, his squire, pointed out what honour there was to be won, andchanged his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart thatif all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do? Iwould carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle,from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced tobeg my bread.' Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided therich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. Hesent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, temptingthem to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisiveblow, at Lincoln in May 1217. There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester whofound a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many ashout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mar�echal!' Finally they reached the open spacein front of the cathedral where William personally captured the Frenchcommander and received three massive blows which left dents in hishelmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long forthe King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war wasalmost won. The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcementscoming from France, and then set about making peace. He wasgenerous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there wasno victimisation, and little recrimination. The speediest route back topeace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civilwar. This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period ofreconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom andworry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the oldman. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides weresatisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion.Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses ofwar, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had toban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions beingtaken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---thegreatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better thananything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions andtrying desperately to balance the budget. He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he wastaken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went but could do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights and retainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up river to his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and his household went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, the papal legate, and the the highest officers of state. He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he shouldfollow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. Heworried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-onewho could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. Hemade his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for hisyoung son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he couldmake his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered an unmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care of her.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries, crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he had thoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, and gave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral. He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of theorder came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are goingto kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all thearrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and waitcomfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of them was worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not give back everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken 500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if hewere damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are too hard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that all the rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have not the heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice. Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. This will be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religious man---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty. In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said toJohn of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when Johnurged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him itwould do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. Sothey called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly,overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice andsing with grace. On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all thedoors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There wassuch a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve theMarshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except bythe dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and thendied with his eyes fixed upon the cross. The cort�ege moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, andthere William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over thegrave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. Youwill all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror,you and I. Let each man say his paternoster that God may receive thisChristian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as heso well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes &Noble Books, New York, 1995] ---------- William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal tothe king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebelliousson of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidentialfriend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of theClares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in whichrank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at thecoronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king'spurposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants toHugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice ofEngland, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king'shouse, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronationof King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke,being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In thefirst year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff ofGloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued forseveral years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co.Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four yearsafterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province ofLeinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembrokewas deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertainthe grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise ofKing John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint aday for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian,by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance.He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving avictory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, andinvesting that great city, both by land and water, reduced it toextremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded,it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office ofsheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in thecouncil and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment tothe church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ampletestimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s.each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan,Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldestson, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earlof Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, havingthen a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219,having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard,Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembrokeand Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245,the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster wasdivided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh leBigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [SirBernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland] Marshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom Lord of Leinster; Regent of England Advisor to King John at Magna Carta signing SOURCES: LDS Family History Library, Ancestral File #84ZX-0D (familysearch.org) WEB: "Ancestors/Descendants of Royal Lines" (Contributors: F. L. Jacquier (History of Charlemagne by Christian Settipani); L. Orlandini, Manuel Abranches de Soveral, Reynaud de Paysac, F.L. J P de Palmas (Aurejac et Tournemire; Frankish line; The Complete Peerage, Jacquier (Genealogy of Lewis Carroll, Justin Swanstrom, The Royal Families of England Scotland & Wales by Burkes Peerage; Debrett's Peerage & Baronage; Table of descendants French Canadian Genealogical Society; Families of Monfort-sur-Risle & Bertrand de Bricquebec; The Dukes of Normandy, XXXXI), A. Brabant ("Dynastie Montmorency, Michel d'Herbigny), Paul Leportier, Claude Barret, H.R. Moser (Burke Peerage), O.Guionneau, L.B. de Rouge, E. Polti, N. Danican (Britain's Royal Families; Buthlaw, Succession of Strathclyde, the Armorial 1961-62) A.Terlinden (Genealogy of the existing British Peerage, 1842), L. Gustavsson, C. Cheneaux, E. Lodge, S. Bontron (Brian Tompsett), R. Dewkinandan, H. de la Villarmois, C. Donadello; Scevole de Livonniere, H. de la Villarmois, I. Flatmoen, P. Ract Madoux (History of Morhange; Leon Maujean; Annuaire de Lorraine, 1926; La Galissonniere: Elections d'Arques et Rouen), Jean de Villoutreys (ref: Georges Poull), E. Wilkerson-Theaux (Laura Little), O. Auffray, A. Brabant (Genealogy of Chauvigny of Blot from "Chanoine Prevost Archiviste du Diocese de Troyes Union Typographique Domois Cote-d'Or 1925), Emmanuel Arminjon (E Levi-Provencal Histoire de l'Espagne Andalouse), Y. Gazagnes-Gazanhe, R. Sekulovich and J.P. de Palmas ("notes pierfit et iconographie Insecula", Tournemire), H de Riberolles (Base Tournemire), Franck Veillon; ,(Histoire G�en�ealogique de la Maison de Hornes, Bruxelles 1848; Notice Historique Sur L'Ancien Comt�e de Hornes, Gand 1850; Europ�aische Stammtafeln, Marburg 1978). ........... http://geneastar.org. AWTP: "The Ancestry of Overmire Tifft Richardson Bradford Reed" Larry Overmire larryover@worldnet.att.netMarshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of amiddling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly theyconsisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royalhousehold, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking afterthe stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their militaryservice, and checking the accounts of various household and statedepartments. From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by hissquire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and mostfascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfthand early thirteenth centuries. His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindlydescribes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man wholoved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. Atfirst he supported Stephen but, when he began to realise the failings ofthe King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides.Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery andhardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in hiscastle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerouslyslowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her toride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. Hisforce was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John tookrefuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptlyset fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in thetower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move tosurrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the twosoldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convincedthat they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant,to John's castle. He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as anincident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. KingStephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John todefend; the castellan, realising that provisions and the garrison wereboth too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform hismaster. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at oncerelieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let hismaster down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, sohe asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed hismistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not toprovision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did,and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if hedid not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he hadhammer and anvils to forge a better child than William. The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephenrelented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though hisofficers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over thecastle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grewattached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementaryform of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servantof his mother, the lady Sibile (sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peepingin to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and theservant had to run for his life. The child did not know what dangers hewas running, but it was good and early training for his future career. When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of hisfather's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeshipin knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn byexperience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honourthat went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to goround the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils.He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliesttournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to takethe plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of thedangerous folly of such quixotic behaviour---a good war-horse capturedfrom an unseated opponent could fetch �40. Even so, his heart was reallyset upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced asa youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutralterritory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knightsoutside commenting on how well he was fighting. He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he couldnot live off honour; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and militarytutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, alreadycrowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitlessattempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make theyoung King a knight. Henry seems to have had a good sense of humour, for in 1176 when the twowere cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to baganother knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. Alow-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry keptwhat he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William whenthey got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom. Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast couldattend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained arecord number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to anineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In tenmonths William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights,and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those dayswas having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his headon an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Anothermemory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing withthe ladies who had come to watch---in full armour! Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumours that he wasthe lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not failto mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediatelyinundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage hisservices---three times he was offered �500 a year or more, but he turnedthem down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne. He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it wasonly to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that hewould carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried hismaster, he carried out his promise. He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of theKing, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought himthe Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales andIreland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when hewas covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into PrinceRichard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By thelegs of God, Marshal, do not kill me,' and William killed his horseinstead. Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showedthe Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade hemade William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to helpWilliam de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellenttraining in administration and justice, which was to stand William ingood stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater thanthose with which a simple soldier can deal. It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficultPrince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended toleave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidatehis position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard hadbeen captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiffransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added tohis normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check andraising a vast sum of money. Richard returned to find William a wise counsellor now as well as anincomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, andWilliam worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John.This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known. For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to theMarshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to bedone about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the orderof the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he hadonly this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are liketorches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.' Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy,William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find aformula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France.What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearingthat William was going over to the French side, confiscated all hiscastles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages. So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vastestates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in anarea in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made wascountered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced.However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despitethe royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made. Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whomJohn regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again.Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer tofight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up thechallenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favourwith the King. But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn wherehis true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into supportfor the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope,and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles inorder in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating forcewas Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to beassociated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John toaccede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate. In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royalforces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his Frenchtroops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badlymisjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years ofsuspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle ofDunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he hadforgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar thatWilliam was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without asecret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given. Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemyhands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realised the worthof the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit thekingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death. William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and theposition seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John ofEarley, his squire, pointed out what honour there was to be won, andchanged his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart thatif all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do? Iwould carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle,from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced tobeg my bread.' Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided therich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. Hesent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, temptingthem to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisiveblow, at Lincoln in May 1217. There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester whofound a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many ashout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mar�echal!' Finally they reached the open spacein front of the cathedral where William personally captured the Frenchcommander and received three massive blows which left dents in hishelmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long forthe King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war wasalmost won. The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcementscoming from France, and then set about making peace. He wasgenerous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there wasno victimisation, and little recrimination. The speediest route back topeace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civilwar. This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period ofreconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom andworry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the oldman. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides weresatisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion.Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses ofwar, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had toban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions beingtaken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---thegreatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better thananything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions andtrying desperately to balance the budget. He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he wastaken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went butcould do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights andretainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up riverto his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and hishousehold went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, thepapal legate, and the the highest officers of state. He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he shouldfollow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. Heworried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-onewho could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. Hemade his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for hisyoung son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he couldmake his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered anunmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care ofher.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries,crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he hadthoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, andgave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral. He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of theorder came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are goingto kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all thearrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and waitcomfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of themwas worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not giveback everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if hewere damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are toohard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that allthe rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have notthe heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice.Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. Thiswill be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religiousman---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty. In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said toJohn of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when Johnurged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him itwould do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. Sothey called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly,overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice andsing with grace. On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all thedoors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There wassuch a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve theMarshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except bythe dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and thendied with his eyes fixed upon the cross. The cort�ege moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, andthere William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over thegrave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. Youwill all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror,you and I. Let each man say his paternoster that God may receive thisChristian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as heso well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes &Noble Books, New York, 1995] ---------- William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal to the king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebellious son of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidential friend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of the Clares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in whichrank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at thecoronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king'spurposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants toHugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice ofEngland, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king'shouse, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronationof King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke,being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In thefirst year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff ofGloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued forseveral years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co.Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four years afterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province ofLeinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembrokewas deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertainthe grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise ofKing John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint aday for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian,by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance.He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving avictory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, andinvesting that great city, both by land and water, reduced it toextremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded,it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office ofsheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in thecouncil and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment tothe church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ampletestimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s.each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan,Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldestson, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earlof Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, havingthen a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219,having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard,Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembrokeand Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245,the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster wasdivided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh leBigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [SirBernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland] Marshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of amiddling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly theyconsisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royalhousehold, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking afterthe stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their militaryservice, and checking the accounts of various household and statedepartments. From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by hissquire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and mostfascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfthand early thirteenth centuries. His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindlydescribes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man wholoved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. Atfirst he supported Stephen but, when he began to realise the failings ofthe King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides.Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery andhardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in hiscastle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerouslyslowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her toride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. Hisforce was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John tookrefuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptlyset fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in thetower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move tosurrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the twosoldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convincedthat they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant,to John's castle. He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as an incident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. King Stephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John to defend; the castellan, realising that provisions and the garrison were both too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform his master. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at once relieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let his master down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, sohe asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed his mistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not to provision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did, and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if he did not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he had hammer and anvils to forge a better child than William. The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephen relented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though his officers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over the castle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grew attached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementary form of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servant of his mother, the lady Sibile (sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peeping in to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and the servant had to run for his life. The child did not know what dangers he was running, but it was good and early training for his future career. When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of his father's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeship in knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn by experience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honour that went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to go round the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils. He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliesttournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to takethe plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of thedangerous folly of such quixotic behaviour---a good war-horse captured from an unseated opponent could fetch �40. Even so, his heart was really set upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced as a youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutral territory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knights outside commenting on how well he was fighting. He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he could not live off honour; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and military tutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, already crowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitless attempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make the young King a knight. Henry seems to have had a good sense of humour, for in 1176 when the two were cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to bag another knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. A low-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry kept what he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William when they got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom. Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast could attend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained a record number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to a nineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In ten months William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights, and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those days was having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his head on an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Another memory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing with the ladies who had come to watch---in full armour! Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumours that he was the lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not fail to mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediately inundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage his services---three times he was offered �500 a year or more, but he turned them down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne. He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it wasonly to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that hewould carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried hismaster, he carried out his promise. He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of the King, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought him the Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales and Ireland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when he was covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into Prince Richard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By the legs of God, Marshal, do not kill me,' and William killed his horse instead. Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showed the Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade he made William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to help William de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellent training in administration and justice, which was to stand William in good stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater than those with which a simple soldier can deal. It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficultPrince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended toleave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidatehis position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard hadbeen captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiffransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added tohis normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check andraising a vast sum of money. Richard returned to find William a wise counsellor now as well as anincomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, andWilliam worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John.This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known. For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to theMarshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to bedone about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the orderof the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he hadonly this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are liketorches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.' Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy,William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find aformula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France.What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearingthat William was going over to the French side, confiscated all hiscastles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages. So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vastestates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in anarea in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made wascountered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced.However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despitethe royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made. Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whomJohn regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again.Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer tofight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up thechallenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favourwith the King. But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn wherehis true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into supportfor the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope,and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles inorder in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating forcewas Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to beassociated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John toaccede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate. In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royal forces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his Frenchtroops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badly misjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years of suspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle of Dunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he had forgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar that William was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without a secret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given. Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemy hands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realised the worth of the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit the kingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death. William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and theposition seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John ofEarley, his squire, pointed out what honour there was to be won, andchanged his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart thatif all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do? Iwould carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle,from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced tobeg my bread.' Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided therich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. Hesent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, temptingthem to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisiveblow, at Lincoln in May 1217. There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester whofound a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many ashout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mar�echal!' Finally they reached the open spacein front of the cathedral where William personally captured the Frenchcommander and received three massive blows which left dents in hishelmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long forthe King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war wasalmost won. The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcementscoming from France, and then set about making peace. He wasgenerous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there wasno victimisation, and little recrimination. The speediest route back topeace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civilwar. This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period ofreconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom andworry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the oldman. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides weresatisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion.Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses ofwar, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had toban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions beingtaken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---thegreatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better thananything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions andtrying desperately to balance the budget. He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he wastaken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went butcould do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights andretainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up riverto his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and hishousehold went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, thepapal legate, and the the highest officers of state. He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he should follow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. Heworried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-onewho could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. Hemade his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for hisyoung son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he couldmake his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered anunmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care ofher.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries,crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he hadthoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, andgave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral. He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of the order came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are going to kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all the arrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and wait comfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of them was worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not give back everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken 500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if he were damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are too hard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that all the rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have not the heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice. Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. This will be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religious man---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty. In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said to John of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when Johnurged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him it would do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. So they called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly, overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice and sing with grace. On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all thedoors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There wassuch a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve theMarshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except bythe dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and thendied with his eyes fixed upon the cross. The cort�ege moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, andthere William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over thegrave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. Youwill all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror,you and I. Let each man say his paternoster that God may receive thisChristian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as heso well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes &Noble Books, New York, 1995] ---------- William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal tothe king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebelliousson of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidentialfriend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of theClares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in whichrank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at thecoronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king'spurposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants toHugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice ofEngland, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king's house, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronation of King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke, being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In the first year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff of Gloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued for several years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co. Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four years afterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province of Leinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembrokewas deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertain the grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise of King John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint a day for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian, by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance. He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving a victory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, and investing that great city, both by land and water, reduced it to extremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded, it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office of sheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in the council and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment to the church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ample testimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s.each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan,Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldestson, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earl of Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, having then a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219, having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard, Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme,all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembroke and Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245,the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster was divided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [SirBernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland] Marshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom Lord of Leinster; Regent of England Advisor to King John at Magna Carta signing SOURCES: LDS Family History Library, Ancestral File #84ZX-0D (familysearch.org) WEB: "Ancestors/Descendants of Royal Lines" (Contributors: F. L. Jacquier (History of Charlemagne by Christian Settipani); L. Orlandini, Manuel Abranches de Soveral, Reynaud de Paysac, F.L. J P de Palmas (Aurejac et Tournemire; Frankish line; The Complete Peerage, Jacquier (Genealogy of Lewis Carroll, Justin Swanstrom, The Royal Families of England Scotland & Wales by Burkes Peerage; Debrett's Peerage & Baronage; Table of descendants French Canadian Genealogical Society; Families of Monfort-sur-Risle & Bertrand de Bricquebec; The Dukes of Normandy, XXXXI), A. Brabant ("Dynastie Montmorency, Michel d'Herbigny), Paul Leportier, Claude Barret, H.R. Moser (Burke Peerage), O.Guionneau, L.B. de Rouge, E. Polti, N. Danican (Britain's Royal Families; Buthlaw, Succession of Strathclyde, the Armorial 1961-62) A.Terlinden (Genealogy of the existing British Peerage, 1842), L. Gustavsson, C. Cheneaux, E. Lodge, S. Bontron (Brian Tompsett), R. Dewkinandan, H. de la Villarmois, C. Donadello; Scevole de Livonniere, H. de la Villarmois, I. Flatmoen, P. Ract Madoux (History of Morhange; Leon Maujean; Annuaire de Lorraine, 1926; La Galissonniere: Elections d'Arques et Rouen), Jean de Villoutreys (ref: Georges Poull), E. Wilkerson-Theaux (Laura Little), O. Auffray, A. Brabant (Genealogy of Chauvigny of Blot from "Chanoine Prevost Archiviste du Diocese de Troyes Union Typographique Domois Cote-d'Or 1925), Emmanuel Arminjon (E Levi-Provencal Histoire de l'Espagne Andalouse), Y. Gazagnes-Gazanhe, R. Sekulovich and J.P. de Palmas ("notes pierfit et iconographie Insecula", Tournemire), H de Riberolles (Base Tournemire), Franck Veillon; ,(Histoire G�en�ealogique de la Maison de Hornes, Bruxelles 1848; Notice Historique Sur L'Ancien Comt�e de Hornes, Gand 1850; Europ�aische Stammtafeln, Marburg 1978). Father: John MARSHAL b: ABT 1126 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Mother: Sibyl D' EVEREUX b: ABT 1127 in Salisbury, Wiltshire, England Father: John "The Marshal" FITZGILBERT b: ABT 1106 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Mother: Sibyl D' EVEREUX b: ABT 1127 in Salisbury, Wiltshire, England Marriage 1 Isabel de CLARE b: ABT 1174 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales �WMarried: AUG 1189 in London, Middlesex, England 20 20 19 �WSealing Spouse: 16 DEC 1935 in SLAKE Children 1. Margaret MARSHAL b: ABT 1190 2. William II MARSHAL b: ABT 1190 in of Normandy, France 3. Sibyl MARSHALL b: ABT 1191 in of Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales c: 1209 in , St. David'S, Pembrokeshire, Wales 4. Maud MARSHALL b: ABT 1192 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales c: SEP 1201 5. Gilbert MARSHAL b: 1194 in of, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales c: 1203 in , St. David'S, Pembrokeshire, Wales 6. Walter MARSHAL b: 1198 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales c: in LLZV-DH 7. Richard MARSHALL b: ABT 1200 in of, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales 8. Isabella MARSHAL b: 09 OCT 1200 in Pembroke Castle, Wales c: APR 1206 9. Anselm MARSHAL b: 1202 in of Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales c: in 84ZX-LH 10. Joan MARSHALL b: 1204 in of, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales 11. Eva MARSHAL b: ABT 1206 in Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, Wales Sources: 1.Author: Marlyn Lewis Title: Ahnentafel for Margery Arundell Publication: Name: 08 Oct 1997; Note: Source Medium: Manuscript 2.Author: Ed Mann Title: Mann Database Repository: Name: edmann@commnections.com Note: Source Medium: Electronic Contributor on soc.genealogy.medieval 3.Title: Garner, Lorraine Ann "Lori" Publication: Name: P.O. Box 577, Bayview, ID 83803; Repository: Name: Hardcopy notes of Lori Garner Elmore. Note: Source Medium: Letter Source Quality: very good to excellent, although she has a tendency to follow Burke's Her sources included, but may not be limited to: Burke's Landed Gentry, Burke's Dormant & Extinct Peerage, Burke's Peerage of American Presidents, Debrett's Peerage, Oxford histories & "numerous other reference works" 4.Author: Denis R. Reid Title: Royal Genealogies DB Publication: Name: 149 Kimrose Lane, Broadview Heights, OH 44147-1258; Repository: Name: http://ftp.cac.psu.edu/~saw/royal/royalgen.html ah189@cleveland.freenet.edu Note: Source Medium: Electronic Source Quality: OK 216/237-5364 Text: No parents shown 5.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Magna Charta Sureties, 1215 Publication: Name: 4th ed, Genealogical Publishing, Baltimore; Repository: Name: J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book Page: p 152 line 145 Text: son of John Marshal, no mother 6.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Ancestral Roots of Certain American Colonists Who Came to America before 1700, Seventh Edition Publication: Name: Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Co., Inc., 1999; Page: 69, 77 7.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Magna Charta Sureties, 1215 Publication: Name: 4th ed, Genealogical Publishing, Baltimore; Repository: Name: J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book Page: p 152 line 145 Text: Marshal of England 8.Author: Marlyn Lewis Title: Ahnentafel for Margery Arundell Publication: Name: 08 Oct 1997; Note: Source Medium: Manuscript Text: Marshal of England 9.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Magna Charta Sureties, 1215 Publication: Name: 4th ed, Genealogical Publishing, Baltimore; Repository: Name: J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book Page: p 152 line 145 10.Title: Garner, Lorraine Ann "Lori" Publication: Name: P.O. Box 577, Bayview, ID 83803; Repository: Name: Hardcopy notes of Lori Garner Elmore. Note: Source Medium: Letter Source Quality: very good to excellent, although she has a tendency to follow Burke's Her sources included, but may not be limited to: Burke's Landed Gentry, Burke's Dormant & Extinct Peerage, Burke's Peerage of American Presidents, Debrett's Peerage, Oxford histories & "numerous other reference works" Text: 1st Earl of Pembroke & Strigoil 11.Title: Garner, Lorraine Ann "Lori" Publication: Name: P.O. Box 577, Bayview, ID 83803; Repository: Name: Hardcopy notes of Lori Garner Elmore. Note: Source Medium: Letter Source Quality: very good to excellent, although she has a tendency to follow Burke's Her sources included, but may not be limited to: Burke's Landed Gentry, Burke's Dormant & Extinct Peerage, Burke's Peerage of American Presidents, Debrett's Peerage, Oxford histories & "numerous other reference works" Text: b 1146 12.Author: Ed Mann Title: Mann Database Repository: Name: edmann@commnections.com Note: Source Medium: Electronic Contributor on soc.genealogy.medieval Text: b 1146, no place 13.Author: Marlyn Lewis Title: Ahnentafel for Margery Arundell Publication: Name: 08 Oct 1997; Note: Source Medium: Manuscript Text: b 1146 of Pembroke 14.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Magna Charta Sureties, 1215 Publication: Name: 4th ed, Genealogical Publishing, Baltimore; Repository: Name: J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book Page: p 152, line 145 Text: b "prob" 1146 15.Author: Marlyn Lewis Title: Ahnentafel for Margery Arundell Publication: Name: 08 Oct 1997; Note: Source Medium: Manuscript Text: Regent of the Kingdom 16.Author: Frederick Lewis Weis Title: Magna Charta Sureties, 1215 Publication: Name: 4th ed, Genealogical Publishing, Baltimore; Repository: Name: J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book Page: p 152 line 145 Text: no date of ascension 17.Author: Marlyn Lewis Title: Ahnentafel for Margery Arundell Publication: Name: 08 Oct 1997; Note: Source Medium: Manuscript Text: burial info only 18.Author: Sharon Kay Penman Title: Here Be Dragons Publication: Name: Ballantine Books, New York 1985; Repository: Name: Library of J.H. Garner Note: Source Medium: Book 19.Title: The Magna Charta Sureties 1215, Frederick Lewis Weis, additions by Walter Lee Sheppard Jr, 5th Edition, 1999 Page: 145-1 20.Title: The Magna Charta Sureties 1215, Frederick Lewis Weis, additions by Walter Lee Sheppard Jr, 5th Edition, 1999 Page: line 145 21.Author: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Title: Ancestral File (R) Publication: Name: Copyright (c) 1987, June 1998, data as of 5 January 1998; Repository: Name: NAME Family History Library ADDR 35 N West Temple Street CONT Salt Lake City, UT 84150 USA 22.Title: Burke's Peerage & Baronetage, 106th Edition, Charles Mosley Editor-in-Chief, 1999 Page: 2090 23.Title: The Magna Charta Sureties 1215, Frederick Lewis Weis, additions by Walter Lee Sheppard Jr, 5th Edition, 1999 Page: 17C-2, 145-1, 155-3 24.Title: Ancestral Roots of Certain American Colonists, 7th Edition, by Frederick Lewis Weis, additions by Walter Lee Shippard Jr Page: 81 25.Title: Complete Peerage of England Scotland Ireland Great Britain and the United Kingdom, by G. E Cokayne, Sutton Publishing Lt Page: XII/2:278 26.Title: The Magna Charta Sureties 1215, Frederick Lewis Weis, additions by Walter Lee Sheppard Jr, 5th Edition, 1999 Page: line 17C, 145, 155 27.Title: Garner, Lorraine Ann "Lori" Publication: Name: P.O. Box 577, Bayview, ID 83803; Repository: Name: Hardcopy notes of Lori Garner Elmore. Note: Source Medium: Letter Source Quality: very good to excellent, although she has a tendency to follow Burke's Her sources included, but may not be limited to: Burke's Landed Gentry, Burke's Dormant & Extinct Peerage, Burke's Peerage of American Presidents, Debrett's Peerage, Oxford histories & "numerous other reference works" Text: d 1219 28.Author: Ed Mann Title: Mann Database Repository: Name: edmann@commnections.com Note: William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal to the king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebelliousson of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidential friend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of the Clares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in which rank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at the coronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king's purposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants to Hugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice of England, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king's house, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronation of King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke, being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In the first year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff of Gloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued for several years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co.Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four years afterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province of Leinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembroke was deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertain the grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise of King John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint aday for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian, by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance. He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving a victory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, and investing that great city, both by land and water, reduced it to extremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded,it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office of sheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in the council and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment to the church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ample testimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s. each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan, Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldest son, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earl of Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, having then a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219, having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard, Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembroke and Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245, the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster was divided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland] Marshal of England Protector of the Realm Regent of the Kingdom The office of Marshal to the king was a hereditary perquisite of a middling Wiltshire family. The duties were various, but mainly they consisted of acting as second-in-command to the constable of the royal household, maintaining order in the palace and guarding it, looking after the stables, keeping the rolls of those who performed their military service, and checking the accounts of various household and state departments. From this family came William Marshal, whose biography was written by his squire John of Earley so providing us with one of the deepest and most fascinating insights into the life of a great baron of the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. His father, John Marshal, whom the Gesta Stephani rather unkindly describes as 'a limb of hell and the root of all evil' was a man who loved warfare, and played the game of politics with great success. At first he supported Stephen but, when he began to realise the failings of the King and the potentialities of Matilda's party, he changed sides. Almost immediately he proved by a consummate act of bravery and hardihood, that he was worth having: escorting Matilda to safety in his castle at Ledgershall, John found that the party was going dangerously slowly because Matilda was riding side-saddle, so he persuaded her to ride astride, and stopped behind to delay the pursuers at Wherwell. His force was soon overpowered by the numbers of the enemy, and John took refuge with one of his knights in the Abbey. The opposing party promptly set fire to the church, and John and his knight had to take cover in the tower, John threatening to kill his knight if he made any move to surrender. As the lead of the roof began to melt and drop on the two soldiers, putting out one of John's eyes, the enemy moved off, convinced that they were dead. They escaped, in a terrible state, but triumphant,to John's castle. He plainly expected his children to be as tough as himself, as an incident of the year 1152, when William was about six, will show. King Stephen went to besiege Newbury Castle, which Matilda had given John to defend; the castellan, realising that provisions and the garrison were both too low to stand a long siege, asked for a truce to inform his master. This was normal practice, for if the castellan were not at once relieved, he could then surrender without being held to have let his master down. Now John had not sufficient troops to relieve the castle, so he asked Stephen to extend the truce whilst he, in turn, informed his mistress, and agreed to give William as a hostage, promising not to provision and garrison the castle during the truce. This he promptly did, and when he received word from Stephen that the child would be hung if he did not at once surrender the castle, he cheerfully replied that he had hammer and anvils to forge a better child than William. The child was taken out for execution, but at the last moment Stephen relented with that soft heart that was his undoing, and though his officers presented such enticing plans as catapulting William over the castle walls with a siege engine, he would not give in. Later on he grew attached to the child, and one day when William was playing an elementary form of conkers with the King, using plantains, the child saw a servant of his mother, the lady Sibil(sister of the Earl of Salisbury), peeping in to check up on his safety. William cried out a greeting and the servant had to run for his life. The child did not know what dangers he was running, but it was good and early training for his future career. When he was thirteen William was sent to serve in the retinue of his father's cousin, the chamberlain of Normandy. This was his apprenticeship in knighthood, and was to last eight years. As a squire he would learn by experience all the skills of a knight, and the elaborate code of honour that went with it. After he had been knighted in 1167, he began to go round the tournaments to make his name, and earn a living by the spoils. He was eager for the fray, so eager in fact that in his earliest tournaments he concentrated too much on the fighting, and forgot to take the plunder. He had to be warned by elder and wiser knights of the dangerous folly of such quixotic behaviour---a good war-horse captured from an unseated opponent could fetch �40. Even so, his heart was really set upon fame, and he recalled in old age the pride he had experienced as a youngster when, having retired to the refuge (a hut regarded as neutral territory in a tournament) to fix his helmet, he overheard two knights outside commenting on how well he was fighting. He was, however, only the second son of a middling baron, and he couldnot live off honour; so it must have been wonderful news for him when in 1170 he heard of his appointment as captain of the guard and military tutor to King Henry II's heir, the fifteen-year-old Henry, already crowned in his father's lifetime in, as it turned out, a fruitless attempt to ensure the succession. In 1173 it fell to his lot to make the young King a knight. Henry seems to have had a good sense of humour, for in 1176 when the two were cantering back into town after a tournament, William managed to bag another knight, and led him reined behind, with the King following. A low-hanging water sprout swept the knight off his horse, but Henry kept what he had seen to himself, and the laugh was definitely on William when they got home to find he was leading a horse, but no knight to ransom. Tournaments were so frequent at that time that a real enthusiast couldattend one a fortnight, and William and the King must have attained arecord number of attendances. This was the equivalent of hunting to a nineteenth century country gentleman, though much more rugged. In ten months William and a colleague captured one hundred and three knights,and risked death on each occasion: one memory William kept of those days was having to receive the prize of hero of the day kneeling with his head on an anvil whilst a smith tried to prize off his battered helm. Another memory he retained was arriving too early for a fight, and dancing with the ladies who had come to watch---in full armour! Then came trouble---William's enemies began to spread rumours that he was the lover of Henry's wife, and seeing that the suspicion could not fail to mar their relationship, William cut out on his own. He was immediately inundated with tempting offers from great lords who wanted to engage his services---three times he was offered �500 a year or more, but he turned them down and went instead on pilgrimage to Cologne. He was soon recalled to service with the young King in 1183, but it was only to see him die of a fever. At the last William promised that he would carry out Henry's vow to go on crusade, and having buried his master, he carried out his promise. He came home in 1187 to take his place as an esteemed servant of the King, and to marry the second richest heiress in England who brought him the Earldom of Pembroke and extensive lands in England, Wales andIreland. He served Henry II in his final bitter years and once, when he was covering the king's retreat, he put the fear of God into Prince Richard who was leading the pursuit. The Lionheart cried out, 'By the legs of God, Marshal, do not kill me,' and William killed his horse instead. Such conduct was dangerous, but when Richard came to the throne he showedthe Marshal that he respected him for it, and when he went on crusade he made William one of the four associate justiciars appointed to help William de Longchamp, who had the care of the kingdom. This was excellent training in administration and justice, which was to stand William in good stead later when he had to bear responsibilities far greater than those with which a simple soldier can deal. It also gave him lessons in how to deal with the immensely difficult Prince John, who, fearing, with some justice, that Richard intended to leave the kingdom to his nephew Arthur of Brittany, had to consolidate his position whilst his brother was away. When he heard that Richard had been captured on his way home and was being held to an incredibly stiff ransom, John's ambitions became boundless, and the Marshal had, added to his normal duties, the double problem of keeping the prince in check and raising a vast sum of money. Richard returned to find William a wise counsellor now as well as an incomparable soldier, and he used him well; but in 1199 he died, and William worked with skill and energy for the smooth accession of John. This King was to bring him worse problems than he had ever known. For the next seven years William had to watch John losing Normandy to the Marshal's old friend Philip Augustus, knowing there was nothing to be done about it. Instead of knightly virtues, treachery was now the order of the day, and when he taxed the French King with using traitors, he had only this for reply: '. . . it is now a matter of business. They are like torches that one throws into the latrine when one is done with them.' Attempting to rescue something out of the chaos of the loss of Normandy, William undertook the negotiations with France to make peace, and find a formula by which the English barons might retain their lands in France. What he found instead was the implacable suspicion of John who, fearing that William was going over to the French side, confiscated all his castles and official positions, and took his two eldest sons as hostages. So William spent the next five years in Ireland, looking after his vast estates and interests there far away from John, but unfortunately, in an area in which John took an especial interest. Every move William made was countered by the royal officials, and active hostilities soon commenced.However, William had the better and more faithful knights and, despite the royal offensives, he tended to win, so in 1208 a truce was made. Soon afterwards William received on his lands William de Briouse, whom John regarded as a bitter enemy, and so the quarrel flared up again. Finally the sixty-six-year-old knight had to come to court and offer tofight an ordeal by battle to prove his faith. No one dared to take up the challenge, though a winning contestant would have rocketed into favour with the King. But by the year 1212 John was in serious trouble, and was to learn where his true friends lay. William swung the baronage of Ireland into support for the crown, helped to organize the vital rapprochement with the Pope, and prepared to gather the King's friends together and put his castles in order in readiness for the inevitable struggle. A great moderating force was Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was to be associated with William throughout the struggle, persuading John to accede to those demands of the barons which he had helped to formulate. In 1216 William was back in the saddle as commander-in-chief of the royal forces opposing the barons and their ally the Dauphin and his French troops. All was well between the Marshal and the King who had so badly misjudged him, and now John tried to make amends. But the years of suspicion and discord still told: when he gave William the castle of Dunamase, he was upset that his justiciar failed to hand it over---he had forgotten an arrangement he had made secretly with the justiciar that William was to have nothing, whatever documents he produced, without a secret handshake (holding each other's thumbs) being given. Now as John lay dying in Newark Castle, with half his kingdom in enemy hands, and a nine-year old child as his successor, he realised the worth of the man he had hounded so long, and urged all present to commit the kingdom into the care of the Marshal after his death. William was an old man, the treasury was empty, discord reigned, and the position seemed hopeless---he wept and begged to be excused; but John of Earley, his squire, pointed out what honour there was to be won, and changed his mind for him in a flash. 'It goes straight to my heart that if all should abandon the King except me do you know what I would do? I would carry him on my shoulders, now here, now there, from isle to isle, from land to land, and I would never fail him, even if I were forced to beg my bread.' Filled with a sense of the glory of his task, the regent now raided the rich stores of jewels and clothing accumulated by the royal house 'against a rainy day' to pay the soldiers he so desperately needed. He sent out showers of letters of protection to the enemy barons, tempting them to change sides. Gradually he built up his powers for the decisive blow, at Lincoln in May 1217. There William led the charge, with the wily Bishop of Winchester whofound a way in, and fought up and down the streets of Lincoln with many a shout of 'Ca! Dieu aide au Mar�echal!' Finally they reached the open space in front of the cathedral where William personally captured the French commander and received three massive blows which left dents in his helmet. The worthy Dame Nicola, who had kept the castle for so long for the King against enormous odds, was at last relieved, and the war was almost won. The Marshal sped down to Dover to intercept the convoy of reinforcements coming from France, and then set about making peace. He was generous---perhaps over-generous---to French and English alike, there was no victimisation, and little recrimination. The speediest route back to peace was chosen, for England had suffered enormous damage from the civil war. This was perhaps the worst time for William---the period of reconstruction. He knew well how to fight, but the sheer boredom and worry of administration of this kind must have borne heavily on the old man. Disputes and claims had to be settled so that both sides were satisfied, and no one would have a pretext for re-starting rebellion. Above all money was needed to oil the wheels and restore the losses ofwar, and the best way to make rebels is to overtax them. He even had to ban tournaments, which would obviously lead to dangerous positions being taken up once more. He must have wondered what he had come to---the greatest fighter in Europe, and the one who loved a fight better than anything. Instead he spent his time setting up judicial commissions and trying desperately to balance the budget. He continued hard at work until the end of February, 1219, when he was taken ill and confined to his bed in the Tower. Doctors came and went but could do nothing, and quickly all his family and his knights and retainers gathered round him for the end. He asked to be taken up river to his manor of Caversham near Reading to die, and there, he and his household went, in mid-March, followed by the young King Henry III, the papal legate, and the the highest officers of state. He urged the king 'to be a gentleman,' and told him that if he should follow the example of some evil ancestor, he hoped he would die young. He worried long and hard over who should be his successor, and found no-one who could unite all under his rule, so wisely chose the papal legate. He made his will, and worried for a moment at the lack of provision for his young son Anselm, but, remembering his own career, felt that he could make his own way. 'May God give him prowess and skill.' He remembered an unmarried daughter and made provision for her 'until God takes care of her.' He had always been a religious man, founder of monasteries, crusader, and honest knight. He called for silken cloths he had thoughtfully brought back from the Holy Land thirty years before, and gave instruction that he should be covered with them at his funeral. He wanted to be buried as a Knight Templar, and when the master of theorder came to clothe him, he said to his wife 'Belle amie, you are going to kiss me, but it will be for the last time.' Happy now that all the arrangements had been made, William could rest a little, and wait comfortably for death. He talked gently with his knights---one of them was worried that the clerks said no one could be saved who did not give back everything he had taken. William set his mind at rest---he had taken 500 knights in his lifetime, and could never restore the booty, so if he were damned there was nothing he could do about it. 'The clerks are too hard on us. They shave us too closely.' When his clerk suggested that all the rich robes could be sold to win his salvation, he said 'You have not the heart of a gentleman, and I have had too much of your advice. Pentecost is at hand, and my knights ought to have their new robes. This will be the last time I can supply them. . .' He was a religious man---true---but he could not abide nonsense and knew his own duty. In his last days he was very gentle to his family. One day he said to John of Earley that he had an overwhelming desire to sing, and when John urged him to do so, as it might improve his appetite, he told him it would do no such thing, people would just assume he was delirious. So they called in his daughters to sing for him, and when one sang weakly, overcome with emotion, he showed her how she should project her voice and sing with grace. On 14 May, William suddenly called to John of Earley to open all thedoors and windows and call everyone in, for death was upon him. There was such a press that the abbots of Nutley and Reading, come to absolve the Marshal and give him plenary indulgence, were barely noticed, except by the dying man, who called them to him, made confession, prayed, and then died with his eyes fixed upon the cross. The cort�ege moved slowly up to London for the great state funeral, and there William's old friend Stephen Langton spoke his eulogy over the grave: 'Behold all that remains of the best knight that ever lived. Youwill all come to this. Each man dies on his day. We have here our mirror,you and I. Let each man say his pater noster that God may receive this Christian into His Glory and place him among His faithful vassals, as he so well deserves.' [Who's Who in the Middle Ages, John Fines, Barnes & Noble Books, New York, 1995] ---------- William Marshal, of the great baronial family of Marischal, marshal tothe king, is first noticed as receiving from Prince Henry, the rebelliousson of Henry II, upon the prince's deathbed, as his most confidentialfriend, his cross to convey to Jerusalem. He m. the great heiress of theClares in 1189, and with her acquired the Earldom of Pembroke -- in whichrank he bore the royal sceptre of gold, surmounted by the cross, at thecoronation of King Richard I, and he was soon afterwards, on the king'spurposing a journey to the Holy Land, appointed one of the assistants toHugh, bishop of Durham, and William, Earl of Albemarle, Chief Justice ofEngland, in the government of the realm. Upon the decease of his brother, John Mareschall, marshal of the king'shouse, in 1199, he became lord marshal, and on the day of the coronationof King John, he was invested with the sword of the Earldom of Pembroke,being then confirmed in the possession of the said inheritance. In thefirst year of this monarch's reign, his lordship was appointed sheriff ofGloucestershire and likewise of Sussex, wherein he was continued forseveral years. In the 5th he had a grant of Goderich Castle in co.Hereford, to hold by the service of two knights' fees; and in four yearsafterwards he obtained, by grant from the crown, the whole province ofLeinster, in Ireland, to hold by the service of one hundred knights' fees. Upon the breaking out of the baronial insurrection, the Earl of Pembrokewas deputed by the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, to ascertainthe grievances and demands of those turbulent lords, and at the demise ofKing John, he was so powerful as to prevail upon the barons to appoint aday for the coronation of Henry III, to whom he was constituted guardian,by the rest of the nobility, who had remained firm in their allegiance.He subsequently took up arms in the royal cause and, after achieving avictory over the barons at Lincoln, proceeded directly to London, andinvesting that great city, both by land and water, reduced it toextremity for want of provisions. Peace, however, being soon concluded,it was relieved. His lordship, at this point, executed the office ofsheriff for the cos. of Essex and Hertford. This eminent nobleman was no less distinguished by his wisdom in thecouncil and valour in the field, than by his piety and his attachment tothe church, of which his numerous munificent endowments bear ampletestimony. His lordship had, by the heiress of Clare, five sons, who s.each other in his lands and honours, and five daus., viz., Maud, Joan,Isabel, Sybil, and Eve. The earl d. in 1219, and was s. by his eldestson, William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. [Sir Bernard Burke, Dormant,Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke's Peerage, Ltd., London,1883, p. 358, Marshal, Earls of Pembroke] William Mareschal, now Marshall (Mareschal to the King), he became Earlof Pembroke, Lord of Leinster, and Lord Marshal of Ireland, 1207, havingthen a grant of the whole province of Leinster. He d. 16 March, 1219,having issue, five sons and five daus. His sons, William, Richard,Gilbert, Walter, and Anselme, all succeeded to the Earldom of Pembrokeand Lordship of Leinster, the last of whom dying s. p. 21 December, 1245,the title of Pembroke became extinct and the Lordship of Leinster wasdivided amongst the five daus., viz., (1), Maud, who being m. to Hugh leBigod, Earl of Norfolk, had issue. Roger le Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. [SirBernard Burke, Dormant, Abeyant, Forfeited, and Extinct Peerages, Burke'sPeerage, Ltd., London, 1883, p. 628, Baronage of Ireland]
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