Chapter XXVI:  Of the resumption of war with Henry of England

Unbridled arrogance is worse than pride; for if pride will not break a superior, arrogance will not brook and equal. As the poet said, 'Caesar could not bear to be second, Pompey to be equal first,' (Lucan, Pharsalia, I, 125-6). And because 'all power is intolerant of sharing' (ibid, I, 93-4), Louis, king of the French, who enjoyed preeminence over Henry, king of intolerant of Normandy, always treated him as if he were his vassal. But the nobility of his kingdom and his great wealth made his inferiority unbearable to the king of the English. So he relied on his nephew Thibaud, Count Palatine, and on many of Louis rivals to disturb the kingdom and harem the king, in order to detract from his lordship.  

So mutual malice revived the evil wars of earlier times. Because Normandy was Chartres lay side by side, the king of England and Count Thibaud united in attacking the nearest frontier of the kingdom, while they sent Stephen, count of Mortain, Thibaud's brother and Henry's nephew, to Brie with an army, to prevent the king from suddenly occupying that land in the count's absence. Louis spared neither the Normans nor the men of Chartres nor those of Brie. Encircled as he was by his enemies and forced by the spread of his lands to turn his attention first against one, then against the other, he nevertheless in his frequent skirmishes demonstrated all the vigour of royal majesty.  

            But through the noble foresight of the English kings and the dukes of Normandy, the Norman frontier had an exceptional line of defence made up of newly built castles and of unfordable rivers. When Louis, who knew this well, decided to penetrate Normandy, he approached the frontier with a handful of troops, intending to proceed very secretly. He cautiously sent ahead spies clad as travellers, wearing mail under their cloaks and with their swords at their sides, who went down the public road to the ancient town called Gasny, which could offer the French free and easy access to Normandy. The river Epte flowed around it, making it safe in the middle, but preventing a crossing for a great distance either above or below. Suddenly the spies flung off their cloaks and drew their swords. The inhabitants saw them, rushed to arms and fought them fiercely; but the spies resisted and with the utmost courage repelled them. Then, as they were beginning to tire, the king suddenly rushed dangerously down the mountain side, provided him men with most opportune help and, not without loss to himself, occupied the town's central square and the church with its fortified tower.  

When he discovered that the English king was close by with a large army, as his wont, Louis summoned his barons and called on them to follow him. There hastened to him the young, elegant and aimiable count of Flanders Baldwin, a true knight, Fulk, count of Anjou, and many other magnates of the kingdom. They broke the Norman defence line and then, while some fortified the town, others pillaged and burned the land enriched by a long peace, devastating and reducing to confusion the area roundabout, an almost unprecedented occurrence when the English king was there.  

Meanwhile Henry very hastily set about building, encouraged the workmen, and erected a castle on the hill closest to that in which the French king had left a garrison before he departed. Henry intended that, from his new castle, with his large force of knights and using his crossbowmen and archers, he would cut off his enemy's food supplies, distress them through their want of necessities, and bar them from his land. But the king of France played tit for tat, and returned the blow at once, like a dice player. He collected an army and suddenly came back at dawn to attack vigorously the new castle which men called Malassis. With great effort, after many heavy blows had been given and received - for in this kind of market, it is that kind of tax one pays - he forced its surrender, tore it to pieces and utterly destroyed it, and to the glory of the kingdom and the shame of its enemies he valiantly put an end to all machinations against him.  

            But Fortune in her power never spares anyone. As it is said, 'If fortune wills, from rhetor you become consul; if she wills, from consul you become rhetor, '(Juvenal, Satires, VII, 197-8). The English king, after a lengthy and admirable succession of most pleasing prosperity, began to decline from the high point on the wheel of fortune and was tormented by a changing and unhappy set of events. From this side the king of France, from Ponthieu, bordering on Flanders, the count of Flanders and from Maine Count Fulk of Anjou employed all their powers in causing him great trouble and attacking him will all their strength. And he was subjected to the injuries of war, not only from foreigners but also from his own men, from Hugh de Gournay, from the count of Eu and the count of Aumale, as well as many others.  

As the crowning evil, he suffered from internal malice. Fearful of the secret factions among his chamberlains and serving-men, he often changed his bed and increased the number of armed guards who kept watch over him for his nightly alarms. He ordered that his shield and sword should always be laid beside him as he slept. There was a certain close friend of the king, H. by name, who had been enriched by the royal liberality, and was well-known for his power, was but to be better known for his treason. When he was caught plotting, he was condemned to lose his eyes and genitals, a merciful punishment, for he deserved to be hanged. Through these and other plots the king enjoyed no security and, renowned though he was for magnanimity and courage, he became prudent in small matters. Even in his house he wore his sword and forbade his more faithful servants to leave their houses without their swords, on pain of a fine like a forfeit at play.  

At this time a man called Enguerrand de Chaumont, by nature vigorous and prudent, advanced boldly with a small number of troops and seized the castle of Andelys, after having secretly put his own men in among the garrison on the walls. Trusting in the king's help, he fortified it with great audacity and subjected totally all the land as far as the river Andelle, from the river Andelle, from the river Epte to Pont-Saint-Pierre. Confident of the support of many knights superior to him in rank, he met King Henry in the open countryside, irreverently pursued him as he retreated, and within the limits mentioned treated the king's land as if it were his own. As for Maine, when King Henry, after a long delay, decided to cooperate with Count Thibaud in relieving the men besieged in the castle of Alencon, he was repulsed by Count Fulk, and in this inglorious affair he lost many of his men, the castle and the keep.  

Deeply troubled over a long period by these and other ills, he had reached the trough of misfortune when divine pity, having harshly whipped and chastised him for some time, (for although he was a liberal benefactor of churches and a rich almsgiver, he was dissolute) decided to spare him and raise him up from his pit of dejection. Unexpectedly he was raised from adversity and inferiority to the top of the wheel of fortune while, rather through the divine hand than his own, those who troubled him, once higher, were brought down to the bottom or completely ceased to exist. Thus God normally mercifully extends his hand of pity to those near despair and bereft of human help. 

Count Baldwin of Flanders, whose violent attacks frequent incursions into Normandy had so troubled the king, was struck in the face by a sudden but quite light blow from a lance, while he was engaged in attacking with unbridled energy the castle of Eu and its adjacent seacoast. He scorned to look after so small a wound; but Death could. By Baldwin's decease it chose to spare the English king and all his allies.

            Enguerrand de Chaumont, the boldest of men and a presumptuous aggressor against Henry, was stricken by a very dangerous disease because he had not shrunk from destroying some land belonging to the Virgin Mary in the archbishopric of Rheims. After long suffering and much well-merited bodily wretchedness, he learned belatedly what was due to the queen of heaven and died. Count Fulk of Anjou, although he was bound to Louis by ties of homage, by oaths and by many hostages, put avarice before fidelity and, without consulting the king, and with a treachery that made him infamous, he gave his daughter in marriage to William, son of King Henry and, allied with him by this bond of friendship, unjustifiably abandoned the enmity he had promised on oath to preserve.  

            Once King Louis had forced Normandy to be silent in his presence, he ravaged it as relentlessly with small forces as he had with large. He had become used to vexing the king and his men for so long that he despised them as so many men of straw. Then suddenly one day King Henry, having discovered the French king's improvident audacity, collected a large army and secretly approached him with his battle lines drawn. he lit fires to shock Louis, had his armed knights dismount in order that they might fight more bravely as foot-soldiers, and endeavoured prudently to take all sensible precautions for war.  

            Louis and his men did not deign to make any preparations for battle. He simply flew at the enemy with great courage but little sense. The men of the Vexin were in the van under Bouchard of Montmorency and Guy of Clermont, and they very energetically cut the first Norman line to pieces, made them flee the battle-field, and bravely repulsed the first line of horsemen, sending them reeling back against the armed foot-soldiers. But the French who were meant to follow them were in confusion, and pressing against extremely well organised and regulated lines, as happens in such circumstances, they could not make their charge effective, and yielded. The king, amazed at his army's failure, behaved as was usual in adversity; using only his constancy to defend himself and his own men, he retired as honourably as he could to Andelys, though with great loss to his scattered army. For some time he was cut to the quick by the unfortunate outcome of his own thoughtlessness. Then, to prevent his enemies from alleging insultingly that he no longer dared to go into Normandy, and rendered more than usually courageous by adversity, and more steadfast, as is the way with men like him, he recalled his army, summoned the absent, invited the barons of his kingdom, and informed King Henry that on a certain day he would invade his land and fight a famous battle with him. He hastened to carry out his promise, as if performing a vow made under oath. So he flung himself into Normandy at the head of a marvellous army, and ravaged it, taking by assault after a sharp skirmish the well-fortified castle of Ivry, which he burned down, and then went on to Breteuil. Although he remained for some time in that country, he did not see the English king or meet with anyone on whom he could take sufficient revenge for the injury he had suffered. So he returned to Chartres to fall on Count Thibaud, and began a savage attack on the city with the intention of burning it down; but he was interrupted by a delegation of clergy and citizens, bearing before them the shift of the blessed Virgin, who begged him very devotedly, as the principal defender of their church, to spare it through love of her, and not to avenge on his own people a wrong which had been inflicted by others. In the face of their supplications the king bowed his royal majesty, and to prevent the destruction by fire of the city and the noble church of Notre Dame, he ordered Charles, count of Flanders, to recall the army and to spare the city out of love and fear for the church. When they returned to their own land they continued to repay their momentary misfortune with a long, continuous and very harsh revenge.

This translation © Jean Dunbabin, St. Anne's College, Oxford OX2 6HS, England, from whom all necessary permissions to reproduce must be sought.