Every schoolchild knows the date 1066, when William the Conqueror defeated King Harold. But, although there are detailed accounts written by near-contemporary chroniclers and a good deal more is known about the Battle of Hastings than other medieval conflicts, many mysteries remain. Historians cannot state unequivocally, for example, that Harold was shot in the eye, and the various accounts of the battle contradict each other in places. The chroniclers generally had their own agendas – they sympathized with the Saxons or wanted to justify the Norman invasion – so cannot be accepted at face value.
Historians are uncertain how many men died that day, because some of the chroniclers’ estimates, provided with great conviction, are clearly unrealistic. However, it is known that the first and very brutal attack by William’s left flank almost determined the outcome in the Saxons’ favour, and that the battle was long, violent, bitter and desperate. It is likely that the death toll was in the thousands. It was said that the Normans buried their own dead, whereas the Saxons were left for their families to collect. With such a very great slaughter, it is likely that the burial mounds and the remnants of smashed weapons would have been visible for decades.
It was not considered a good thing to break the Commandment ‘Thou shalt not kill’, even in battle – although an exception was made for the Crusades – and it was a sensible move on William’s part to found an abbey as an act of penance. Not only did it pacify the Church and honour the dead, it also populated (with Normans) an area that was vulnerable to invasion. Benedictine monks were brought from Marmoutier in France, and building began. Tradition has it that William wanted the high altar on the site of the fiercest fighting, where Harold died. The monks looked with horror at the clay ridge and nearby bogs, and promptly chose a different site. William was not amused and obliged them to abandon the work and start again – where he had ordered.
By the early 1100s, the church and chapter house had been completed, as were a range of temporary wooden buildings for the brethren to use until they were built in stone. Unfortunately, most of the abbey fell victim to the Dissolution.
After the death of Abbot Henry in 1102, there was an interregnum until 1107 when Abbot Ralph was appointed. During this time, the abbey was in the care of clerks or custodians, including one called Geoffrey, who was a monk of St Carileff. He was said to be a competent businessman, although not well educated. The Latin version of his name, Galfridus, has been used in The Bloodstained Throne to avoid confusion with Geoffrey Mappestone.
Not a great deal is known about King Harold and his descendants. His first love was Edith Swannehals (Swan-neck), who provided him with at least five, and possibly six, children. He married the high-born Ealdgyth ten months before he died, and their son Harold was born posthumously. There is some suggestion that young Harold had a twin brother called Ulf, but it is also possible that Ulf was another of Edith’s children, or perhaps the son of a third liaison. Ulf was a prisoner of William until the Conqueror’s death in 1087.
Meanwhile, Harold was used as a focal point for rebellion by his uncles, but fled from England after the Saxon uprising in 1069-70. He probably went to Ireland and then to Norway, and it is known he took part in a battle at Anglesey in 1098, supporting King Magnus Olaffson against the Norman earls of Shrewsbury (Robert de Belleme) and Chester. Then he disappears from the records.
Harold’s sons by Edith – Godwine, Edmund and Magnus – were older than Ulf and Harold, and they were desperate to gain back what their father had lost. They were involved in several invasions, mostly in the south-west, but were beaten back each time. They eventually migrated to Flanders, where they made alliances with William’s European enemies.
Godwine and Edmund travelled to Denmark to encourage their cousin King Swein to invade England, but Swein died in 1074, and Denmark entered a period of instability. Edmund and Godwine fade from the records at that point. Magnus may have remained in Flanders or even been killed in one of the English battles. The brothers’ rebellions and rabble-rousing have been seen as irrelevant and no more than a nuisance to William, but England was unsettled after the invasion, and it is unlikely that an astute ruler like William – or his equally capable son Henry – would have ignored them.
Duke Robert of Normandy did make a brief visit to his brother Henry in the summer of 1103, when he asked King Henry to restore the estates and title of his friend William de Warrene, Earl of Surrey. Henry was not pleased to see him, but acceded to the request, although it cost Robert a good deal of money. So, Warrene gained back his lands and served Henry faithfully for the rest of his life; Henry gained a loyal supporter and a handsome sum of money; and Robert lost out. It was a foolish, magnanimous gesture typical of a man who, although likeable and generous, was not in Henry’s class as a leader. Robert and Henry did not meet again until they were on opposite sides at the Battle of Tinchenbrai in 1106.