As the younger brother of William Rufus, Henry might well never have succeeded to the throne. If William had married and had sons and had not died suddenly at the height of his powers, Henry might have been a mere bit part player in this period of history instead of, for many years, at the centre of national politics. Henry’s character fascinates historians. What do we really know about him from all the chroniclers, both favourable and critical? What do we take from all the legal papers that have survived – writs, decrees, letters, expense accounts? What do they tell us? Or the many extant civil, ecclesiastical, and judicial records from the reign, starting with his ‘Charter of Liberties’ (link here?) issued on his Coronation Day. More dramatically, what are we to think about the accusation of murder sometimes alleged against him? Did he kill his brother? Did he have him killed? What are we to say about his character?
I think Henry is clever, he’s a survivor, he’s a diplomat, he has the gift of selecting the right people for the right job, he can accept advice from minds he respects. He is intelligent and better educated than any of his brothers, even knowing some Latin because he was once destined for the church. I also see him as astute and calculating, but disposed to keep his word once given. My way into his character was to view him through the eyes of his contemporary, Ranulf Flambard, who began Henry’s reign as his prisoner and ended as the trusted Bishop of Durham. Through this torturous evolving relationship, Flambard’s views change as his understanding of the king’s character develops. I wanted to view Henry through his eyes, overhear their conversations, listen in on their private comments about one another. Through Flambard’s eyes I felt I could begin to find a way into this complex character.
At the beginning of the book, Flambard and Henry are literally miles apart. Yet Flambard is swept up in Henry’s lightning seizure of the throne after the death of William Rufus. One of Henry’s first acts as king is to have Flambard arrested.
Recently risen from his sick bed, Flambard has failed to make his escape and the king’s henchmen have come to arrest him at Christchurch Priory (p. 32-33):
“With a clatter of boots and arms, half a dozen men entered and stood looking at the newly risen Flambard, freshly bathed and dressed in gaudy colours. He stood looking back at them in silence while the dead king’s old oath ran through his mind: ‘Holy Face of Lucca!’
‘Ranulf Flambard, I arrest you by the king’s writ.’ It was Richard Redvers, one of Henry’s cronies. Flambard had met him once and dismissed him as a slimy creature on the make, without much brain. Beside him stood William of Breteuil, carrying the writ.
‘We are here to serve the instruments that will deprive you of your bishopric. And to convey you with all haste to London, to the tower.’
‘What are the charges?’
‘I have a list of charges here as long as your arm,’ said Breteuil, showing the document.
Flambard wavered and looked at Firmin, wondering whether to tell him to go. If he was going to be lodged at the tower for the foreseeable future, it would be good to have someone reliable on the outside. But Firmin knew what he was thinking and shook his head.
‘My lords,’ said Flambard, recovering himself. ‘I shall do your bidding. Convey me where you will.’
Flambard and Henry don’t meet until Flambard has stunned the world by escaping from the Tower, masterminding Robert Curthose’s invasion of England and then bringing about a peace council, leading to the Treaty of Winchester in 1101.
Present at the peace council, but not a participant, Flambard tries to gain an impression of the king with whom he hopes, one day, to repair relations (p. 100):
“ Henry, whom Flambard had not seen for more than a year, seemed to have grown. Perhaps marriage, perhaps kingship had filled him out with the contours of regal masculinity. Taller than his brother, younger and more confident, he stared at Curthose through calculating eyes. His whole body seemed tense and perfectly in command of itself. Flambard had always thought of him as a cat. A soft-treading creature of infinite sinuosity, a starer and pouncer, devious, sly and subtle. Now, dressed in a red tunic, girdled at the waist, over which a baldric gave him a carefully-judged, warlike nuance, outdoing his brother in looking the part of a king, Henry was still a cat, but a very large one indeed. A lion, thought Flambard. A creature that stands at the head all the bestiaries, for good reason. “Their courage is in their breast, their strength is in their head,” went the traditional wisdom. “The nature of a lion is such that he is not enraged by men if he is not harmed by them.” Then again: “he seems to have his eyes open when he sleeps.” Yes, thought Flambard, in the bestiaries can be found the very likeness of Henry.”
At a much later period, after the king has encountered numerous failed negotiations with Anselm and events in Normandy have entirely changed the political landscape, Henry finds himself in urgent need of someone who understands the mind of Robert Curthose.
When Matilda learns that Flambard has turned up suddenly at court she is curious and asks Henry if it relates to the recent unexpected arrival of Robert Curthose in England asking the king for aid. Henry reminds her just how instrumental Flambard has been in the affairs of Curthose (p. 172):
‘Don’t forget it was Flambard who managed his affairs right up to the Treaty of Winchester. Flambard organised his crossing, Flambard bribed the English sailors. Wherever Flambard touched his affairs, they prospered. That crucial landing at Portsmouth made all the difference. Any other commander would have taken advantage of it, assaulted Winchester and forced us to battle. But Curthose sat and waited. That, too, was Flambard’s doing. Flambard is a man with whom I need to restore relations.’
‘Ah, so that’s why you issued that favourable writ from Hereford in the summer.’
Matilda was learning what Flambard already knew, that Henry was adept not only at long-term planning but also at manoeuvring people far in advance of when they would actually be needed. Flambard also learned, in his talks with the king, that they had some useful grounds for agreement. For example, they were both aware of the advantage to be gained in the political application of graduated clemency. Even the worst rebels could be brought round, as William Rufus had brought round William St Calais after the rebellion of 1088. Flambard reminded the king of these facts at their first meeting.
Even at their early meetings, the first since his imprisonment, when Flambard is still technically an escaped prisoner since he has never been officially pardoned, he begins to take the king’s measure and finds a way into his favour. As always, Flambard has a complete understanding of recent events and their financial implications. So when Henry asks him for advice about a baron’s confiscated estates he is ready with an answer.
The king is consulting Flambard on the best way to deal with William de Warenne who is petitioning to have his estates restored (p. 177):
‘I believe, my lord king, that at our last meeting you told me that the income from Warenne’s lands advantages the royal coffers by one thousand, one hundred and sixty-five pounds a year.’
‘Yes, what of it?’
‘That represents the loss you would incur on restoring the Earl’s patrimony?’
‘Yes, clearly.’
‘I think I can see a way in which such a loss could be made up, with a superfluity to the full sum again.’
Henry sat forward, ears pricked, eyes like a mouser staring at prey. God forgive me, thought Flambard, how like a cat he is after all.
‘Under the Treaty of Winchester, you promised a pension to Duke Robert of three thousand marks annually.’
‘I did.’
Flambard now goes on to talk financial details, reassuring the king that he will not lose money by restoring Warenne’s lands, but rather gain advantage in the long term.
Flambard offers his advice boldly, not knowing if the king will accept, reject, or take offence (p. 177):
‘So my advice, my lord king, is this: restore Warenne’s lands, get Duke Robert to renounce his pension and make the transaction dependent on an oath of loyalty from Warenne. To strengthen that oath, offer him marriage with one of your daughters.’ By that Flambard meant ‘one of your illegitimate daughters.’
Henry nodded non-committally, betraying no sign of his thought, seeming to wait for Flambard to say more.
‘My lord king, have you considered that the Treaty of Winchester is being dismantled piece by piece?’
Henry looked up sharply, catching Flambard running out ahead with his thought, putting into words what he most wanted to hear.
If the Treaty of Winchester is set aside, Henry will be free to invade and capture Normandy, deposing his brother. But the king wants moral assurances. He is not a godless warlord, he is a Christian King who has to consider the Pope’s reaction. Henry has set himself up as protector of the Norman churches so he must have justifications for an invasion.
Flambard now feels himself in a position to supply something Henry really wants, the justification to make war on his brother. He begins by showing how Henry can no longer be held to the Treaty of Alton (p. 177):
“Sensing that the king was fed up with suggestions, hints and indirections and wanted some plain speaking, Flambard went on: ‘Duke Robert broke the terms of the clause of mutual aid when he welcomed Bellême into his realm and awarded him lands. The survivor clause has been superseded by the birth of heirs. You are about to end Duke Robert’s pension. From where I stand, my lord, the treaty is already in tatters.’
Henry was visibly responsive, thinking how, in spite of everything, Flambard was worth keeping close. After all, this was the man who had guided the policy of both his brothers with prodigious success.
‘Is it your opinion that I have justification for interceding in the affairs of Normandy?’
Flambard was, by now, sure of his man.
‘My lord king, nothing is more certain. Not only can grounds be found in law, by which I know you rightly govern your actions, but there is a compelling moral case. In Normandy, people are losing their livelihoods, their crops, their property and their lives through lack of strong leadership against the barons.’
Flambard could see that Henry wanted someone to take off his reins, point him towards the long-coveted dukedom of his brother, and slap his rump.”
Flambard also learns, in his talks with the king, that they have some useful grounds for agreement (p. 173):
For example, they were both aware of the advantage to be gained in the political application of graduated clemency. Even the worst rebels could be brought round, as William Rufus had brought round William St Calais after the rebellion of 1088. Flambard reminded the king of these facts at their first meeting.
‘My predecessor at Durham was pardoned, his lands restored, favour conferred and, in the years that followed, St Calais was a staunch loyalist to the king your brother.’
‘That may be, Flambard, but not all men are of the same calibre. Will Warenne have the grace to accept a pardon? In some men that merely serves as cause for more resentment.’
‘True, my lord. Julius Caesar was stabbed by men to whom he had shown clemency. But Warenne is not of their calibre either.’
‘And what of you, Flambard? Are you of the same calibre as your predecessor at Durham?’
‘My lord king,’ replied Flambard without a pause, ‘it is my dearest wish to outdo St Calais in all of his virtues, and none of his errors.’
In 1105 Henry sends Flambard to Lisieux, on a secret mission into Normandy to keep him informed on the latest conflict where Robert Curthose seems to be rapidly losing control of large areas of the duchy to warring barons. This is a posting of high importance and shows just how far the relationship between Henry and Flambard has improved. While never friendly, there is a great deal of respect on both sides, each seeing the distinctive qualities of the other.
Flambard is still in Lisieux in 1106 when the king passes through the town after the battle of Tinchebrai where he finally overcomes and captures Curthose (p. 259):
‘My lord king and lord of Normandy,’ said Flambard with a flourish. ‘Welcome to Lisieux.’
‘Are you still here, Flambard? I thought Ivo had driven you out.’
Henry’s tone was neither surprised nor displeased. He had obviously been quite aware of Flambard’s presence in Lisieux.
‘For the moment, my lord, I retain the governance of the abbey. Bishop Ivo has appealed to the pope to unseat my son, Thomas, and install his own candidate. I expect he will be successful in due course.’
‘But you do not care, I take it, because now your way back to Durham is clear.’
Flambard, who had been thinking along these lines, was gratified to hear it from the king’s own lips. From the moment of his imprisonment in the Tower he had set himself to fight his way back to his bishopric. All his schemes over the last six years had been with that aim in view […] ‘If you, my lord king, are willing and if Anselm will accept me according to the terms of the investiture settlement,’ replied Flambard, ‘I shall look forward to ending my absence at Durham.’
Henry watched as Flambard poured some wine and handed him a goblet.
‘Go to Durham,’ he said, ‘Anselm will not protest. You have it in you to be an effective bishop, perhaps even a good one. You know, Flambard, my brother was not mistaken when he chose you as his chief adviser.’
These are the warmest words the king speaks to Flambard and I hope they convey the respect that Henry is capable of feeling for his former enemy. Flambard’s success has come directly from Henry’s magnanimity. Henry could have harboured a grudge, imprisoned Flambard perhaps even something worse, and thus deprived himself of one of the best most, active agents of his court. His willingness to forget old offences allowed him to reap new benefits and led to some of the major successes of his reign.
Follow more of this dramatic story in After the Arrow.