87: The Eternal Prince Louis

            French politics is fascinating in any era. Whether you’re actively involved or just an observer there is never a dull moment. This is largely due to the relatively large presence of the state. Compared to a country like England, France’s government has traditionally been more centralized, larger and wielded more authority over the country, which in turn played a part in producing more frequent protest, revolt and revolution. For much of France’s history the state revolved around the king. If I’ve focused on the French monarchy for so long, it is because the highest levels of French politics have centered around the conflict between the central state and the different regions and localities of France. When Louis XIV said something like, “L’état, c’est moi,” that is, “I am the state,” he was not far off.

However, for a long time the French monarchs struggled to bring their country under their control. The Capetians ruled as relatively weak kings. They were one among several great magnates in the north and exercised almost no authority in the south. Gradually, the descendants of Hugues Capet took control of the kingdom, until Philippe II became the undisputed power in France. Philippe II’s power was not absolute; he did not even try to exert his rights in the south to any meaningful extent. Yet, Philippe II’s triumphs brought the French crown to all new heights.

Philippe II’s triumphs were not wholly his own. For much of his reign, his son Louis served as his right arm, regularly warring against the crown’s enemies. For a long time Louis VIII has been relegated to a footnote in history; a name that is occasionally mentioned in relation to his father, the great Philippe II Auguste or his son, Saint Louis IX. This is because Louis VIII reigned as king for a mere 3 years. While Louis VIII only wore the crown for a short time, he arguably had a greater impact on France than many kings, largely because he was so active as a prince. His martial exploits played a pivotal role in crushing the Angevins, weakening England and subduing the south.

            Louis’ life began on 5 September 1187 in the royal palace on the Ile de la Cité, in Paris. Louis came from the most prestigious background possible in the country of France. His father was the head of the ruling House Capet while his mother, Isabelle of Hainault, was descended from Charlemagne. Thus, many believed that the young child would be destined for greatness. The baby’s birth, and his sex, led to seven days of celebrations in the capital. After seven years of an unfruitful marriage, king and queen had an heir to the throne. Curiously, the boy was pale and blond like his mother, and very much unlike the dark-haired Capetians. Yet, if Louis physically took after his mother, in temperament he was much like his father. While he was occasionally given to outbursts of emotion, he remained in control of himself, balancing courage and caution with shrewd calculation.

            As a prince, Louis spent his first years pampered by servants in the royal palace. Most of his time was spent among women, as his father and his attendants were busy governing or campaigning. Louis was suckled by wet nurses, as was custom. The queen was relieved of the duty of nursing so she would have the strength to bear more children, and Isabelle became pregnant with twins a couple years later. On 14 March 1190 she gave birth to twin boys, who died shortly thereafter. Isabelle lingered for a day before passing, leaving behind prince Louis who was only two and a half years old.

            King Philippe II was not present at his wife’s death, as he was busy warring in Normandy. Yet, when news arrived, Philippe II signed a hasty truce and returned to Paris to bury his queen. He would not stay for long. Just a few months later he left for the Third Crusade and would not return for another two years. In the interim, Louis’ grandmother Adèle and his great-uncle Guillaume aux Blanches Mains, the archbishop of Reims raised him.

            Even though Louis was still a child, his importance to France cannot be overstated. He was the sole direct Capetian heir to the throne at a time when the Angevins exercised enormous power over the country. His life was part of the political calculus of a nation and became more valuable as his father was gone halfway across the known world fighting against the fearsome Salah-al-din. When the absent French king fell ill, there was a very real possibility that France’s future hopes would fall on the boy.

            With that in mind, it is no wonder that the court and the people of Paris began to panic when Louis fell ill with dysentery. The disease was life-threatening to anyone who contracted it, but it was especially fatal for children. In response, the monks of Saint-Denis resorted to the most extreme measures: they removed a nail from the True Cross, a spine from the Crown of Thorns and hoisted the arm bone of Saint Simeon. From Saint-Denis the monks led a procession through Paris where the citizens wept and prayed for the prince’s health. The monks then arrived at the palace where they touched Louis with the nail and spine in the hopes that he would recover.

Against the odds, Louis’ health returned to him. However, messengers had already departed for the Holy Land to inform Philippe II about his son’s illness. When Philippe II learned that Louis was on the brink of death he abandoned the miserable Third Crusade and voyaged back to his home country. Luckily for the returning king, his son and heir had healed.

            The young prince was unique in his passionate pursuit of education and military training. So often young princes tend to favor one or the other, becoming scholar-kings or war-leaders. Europe’s finest scholars trained Louis in the trivium and quadrivium. Simultaneously, he learned theology and court etiquette. Finally, the marshal of France, Henri Clément, became Louis’ personal trainer in the art of warfare. The old soldier first pushed Louis to master horseback riding and sword-fighting before teaching him more advanced tactics. The marshal succeeded; even though Louis was a relatively small man he became a renowned warrior, known across Europe as Louis the Lion.

            As a teenager, Louis was probably the first French king trained in chivalry. I’ll have more to say about chivalry later, but for now just know that this was an incredibly important, largely un-codified, set of rules for how knights should behave. For so long, Europe’s Germanic, warrior-aristocracy ravaged the land, taking what they wanted without concern for the well-being of the people. Over centuries, Christian leaders attempted to rein in the violent excesses of the nobility by defining when violence was allowed. Various strains of thought ultimately coalesced in northern France in the famous chivalric code. Chivalry sought to transform brutes into Christian soldiers who would defend the weak, protect the innocent and fight the enemies of God. Prince Louis took these lessons to heart. He viewed himself as a devout Christian for all his days and he instilled these values into his son, who would become known as Saint Louis IX.

            Louis’ military training was also an opportunity to meet with and form friendships with other young nobles who would be his companions and allies. Among these were Arthur, the Duke of Brittany, and his second cousins Robert and Pierre de Dreux. Philippe II understood that it was necessary for his son to learn how to fight, but he made Louis swear an oath not to participate in tournaments. Part of this was due to his piety, but one cannot help but think that Philippe II worried about the fragile life of his only heir. Philippe II had already lost one of his greatest allies and friends, Geoffroi, in a tournament; he could not bear to lose his son in the martial games.

            Medieval French lords had three primary responsibilities: govern, fight and produce offspring. After Philippe II ensured that his son had a proper education and military instruction he secured a wife for the boy. In the Spring of 1200, Philippe II forced King Jean of England to sign a humiliating treaty at Gisors. Among the many concessions, Jean agreed to offer his niece, Blanche of Castille, to Louis. On 23 May, the 12 year-old French prince married the 12 year-old Castilian princess, the two having never met before. It was a relatively inauspicious ceremony. Philippe II’s marital indiscretions meant that the royal domain was under papal interdiction. To evade the church decree, Philippe II’s retainers took the couple into Normandy, where Angevin clergy were free to marry them.

            Marrying for love is a relatively new phenomenon, as for most of history marriage was a political and economic contract. Affection was an after-thought, and many French kings had mistresses because they had no love for their spouse. Louis and Blanche were a noted exception to this conjugal norm. From the beginning of their marriage until its abrupt end, the two were deeply in love with each other. At the marriage’s outset, the 12-year-old princess advocated for her husband’s right to the Vexin, angering King Jean who no doubt hoped that his niece would side with him in the peace negotiations. As the royal couple grew older, Blanche became Louis’ most trusted advisor who played a crucial role in administration and finances. The two also shared a love of the gentler arts of poetry and music. Due to her southern roots, Blanche was well-connected with the troubadours and invited these southern minstrels to the royal court. She even wrote poetry herself. Thus, Blanche imbued Louis’ life with music and emotion, keeping his mind entertained even as many of his fellow men were busy at tournaments. Unlike many medieval French kings, Louis had no known mistresses or illegitimate children and appears wholly devoted to his wife through all their years together.

            Their marriage was highly fruitful. Over the course of her life, the princess from Castille gave birth to 12 children, 5 of which survived to adulthood. In 1205 Blanche gave birth to the couple’s first child, a baby girl. In an all-too-common tragedy for the period, the girl died shortly after birth, before she even received a name. Blanche’s second pregnancy produced a boy, which the couple named Philippe, and who lived to 9 years old before passing. The third pregnancy resulted in twins, who died the day of their delivery. After this series of tragedies, in 1214 she gave birth to a boy who became known as Saint Louis IX, one of France’s greatest kings. Two years later Blanche gave birth to Robert, who became Count of Artois, and who later died in battle during the Seventh Crusade. Three years later, she produced Jean, who lived to the age of 13 before passing.

Her eighth child, Alphonse, became the Count of Toulouse and solidified the Capetian rule in the south. He also had a significant military career, serving in the Seventh Crusade, warring against the English over their last possessions in France, and finally dying in Italy while voyaging with the Eighth Crusade. Blanche’s ninth child was another boy, Philippe Dagobert, who died at the age of 12. Her tenth child was a girl, Isabelle. From an early age, this princess devoted herself to God and declared she would always remain a virgin. She defied her family by refusing to marry the heir to Lusignan. Even more audaciously, she refused to marry Conrad IV, heir to the Holy Roman Empire, despite her family and Pope Innocent IV asking that she accept his hand. Betrothed only to God, Isabelle founded the Abbaye royale de Longchamp. From the nunnery, Isabelle gave wealth to the poor and served the community until her death at the age of 54. Four hundred years later, the Catholic Church canonized Isabelle as the patron saint of the sick.

            In 1225 Blanche birthed Étienne, who only lived for two years. Near the end of 1226 or the beginning of 1227, the princess delivered her final child, Charles. Charles became Count of Provence, strengthening the Capetian rule in the south. This was only the beginning of his story. He later moved east and carved out territories for himself in the former Byzantine Empire, becoming King of Albania and Prince of Achaea. With official backing from Pope Urban VI, Charles invaded Sicily and deposed the last Hohenstaufen ruler. His reign lasted for 16 years until the outbreak of an event known as The Sicilian Vespers, in which the people of Sicily revolted against their French rulers. Charles had to abandon the island but continued to rule over the south of Italy, a territory which came to be known as the Kingdom of Naples, which would last for almost 600 years when it was done away with during the Napoleonic Wars.

            Through their children, Louis and Blanche were an epic power couple, raising two saints, two kings and multiple lords and crusaders that bolstered House Capet’s dominance of the kingdom and France’s power abroad.

            When Prince Louis was not spending time with his beloved, he was in the company of his father learning the art of leadership, administration and war. At 19 he joined Philippe II on campaign in Brittany. Three years later, Philippe II held a knighting ceremony for his son. During this important rite of passage the proud king gave his son a sword and belt, while Henri Clément gave him a pair of golden spurs. King Philippe II had held off knighting his son until the last possible moment, perhaps fearing that the prince might rise up against his father as was the case with Henri II Plantagenet’s children. Philippe II made a habit of delaying granting his son power and privileges. He gave his son administrative functions over Artois without naming him count for many years. Finally, Philippe II did not elevate his son to the rank of ‘junior king’ as was common with the Capetian dynasty. By making Louis dependent on him, Philippe II Auguste aimed to deter any attempted uprising by his blood. As wise as these decisions were, they were perhaps overly-cautious: at no point did Louis ever rebel against his father. He remained a loyal son for all of his days. The only time the two came into serious conflict was over Louis’ later invasion of England, though this did not break or even seriously harm their relationship.

            Louis acted as his father’s strong right arm. As king, Philippe II had to balance being a neutral sovereign, upholding his vassals’ rights, with asserting his own power. This is where Prince Louis stepped in, as he acted on behalf of his father’s interests, seemingly of his own accord. In 1212, Louis invaded Flanders to take back the towns of St. Omer and Aire, which had been part of his mother’s dowry. Philippe II did not openly support the invasion but he legitimized it by accepting the treaty between Louis and the Count of Flanders. The following year, Prince Louis vowed to join the Albigensian Crusade, an act which he likely took out of his own personal piety, but one which supported his father’s greater goals. Philippe II needed to rule the north and protect it from Angevin, Flemish and Imperial threats while simultaneously supporting the southern crusade to show his devotion to the church. By sending his son in his place, Philippe II could pose as a defender of Christian dogma while consolidating his own power.

            Louis’ crusade would have to wait. In England, King Jean got into a tumult with the would-be archbishop Stephen Langton. Jean’s attempted power grab caused Innocent III to excommunicate him. Furthermore, the pope gave Philippe II his blessing to invade England. Not needing to be told twice, Philippe II prepared to take the island nation. The plan was to install Louis as king in England while Philippe II ruled over the greater kingdom of France, and it would be a greater kingdom; Louis swore that when he became King of England he would claim no territory in France, ceding the remaining parts of the Angevin Empire to his father.

            As we have seen, the initial invasion did not take off. Realizing he was about to lose everything, Jean folded to His Holiness. With England officially a papal fief, Innocent III forbid the King of France from invading. Instead, France was invaded the following year. In February 1214, Louis learned that King Jean had landed in Poitou and aimed to retake his old lands in France. Acting in concert with his father, Louis and marshal Henri Clément marched west and south while Philippe II raised his own forces to hold the north.

Much has been said about the Battle of Bouvines, in which Philippe II smashed a greater force that was moving on Paris. While Louis did not win a pitched battle, his courage and tactical thinking overwhelmed Jean’s forces. The King of England’s army was much larger than Louis’, but it was staffed primarily with mercenaries who quickly lost their resolve at the thought of a major engagement. As Louis the Lion tore through the south, Jean’s forces evaporated and he fled back to England, never to return to France. While Philippe II held an almost Roman-style triumph in Paris, Louis toured the west, taking castle after castle. He must have made his old teacher proud on what became his last campaign: Henri Clément caught a fever and died, leaving the army decisively under the command of his former student.

            Louis was 27 years old in early 1215. In all that time he had served under his father’s watchful eye. Every triumph and glory he received he shared with his father, always receiving the smaller portion. That Spring, Louis left his father’s house and sought to acquire his own crown by invading England.

            Jean had suffered greatly in the 1214 campaign, though the real damage was to his French holdings. Any hopes of reclaiming Normandy were gone. Likewise, Jean lost ample territories in the west, though he still held on to a rump state around Gascony. The Kingdom of England was as strong as it had ever been given that it had almost no involvement in Jean’s personal adventure to rebuild the Angevin Empire. The English nobility overwhelmingly refused to fight in France, claiming they only owed fealty to Jean in England proper. Jean demanded that those who did not join him had to donate to his campaign, an order that the aristocracy ignored.

            By this point the English aristocracy near-universally loathed their king. He had a well-established reputation for cruelty, cowardice and corruption. His negative attributes only worsened as he became more paranoid. He regularly forced his vassals to cede their children as hostages to ensure their loyalty. Jean also instituted a system of bribery, whereby nobles had to pay the crown for the right of their children to succeed, otherwise upon the father’s death the land would be seized.

In one famous instance, Jean demanded an enormous sum from Matilde de Briouze. She defiantly said that she would never give her sons to a man who had murdered his own nephew. Jean responded by seizing Matilde and her son’s lands, capturing them and starving them to death. The unscrupulous execution of a mother and her son was bad in itself; what made this even more egregious was that the Briouze family had been loyal allies of Jean before this. Other nobles recognized that if Jean murdered his own supporters then there was no security for anyone.

As Jean turned more of his subjects against him he increasingly relied on foreigners. French mercenaries made up a large part of his armies, and Jean appointed French lords to positions of power. When Jean left for England he made Pierre des Roches, the foreign-born bishop of Winchester, regent, who proved wildly unpopular. The English nobility resented losing out on valuable positions to foreigners and worried for their own security as Jean became increasingly malevolent and unhinged.

There must have been a widespread feeling of schadenfreude among the well-to-do in England when their king returned in utter humiliation from his failed campaign in France. One group decided it was time to take action against their tyrannical overlord. This north-based cabal was led by the baron Robert Fitzwalter who not only opposed Jean’s erratic rule but held a personal grudge against him. Fitzwalter claimed that Jean had tried to force himself on the baron’s daughter. While propaganda regularly slandered bad rulers as licentious, the sheer breadth of histories that claim Jean took advantage of his barons’ wives and daughters means it is entirely possible that the king of England did engage in this foul practice.

            The northern lords met with Jean in London at the start of the year 1215. There they demanded that he uphold the traditional rights of nobles. Jean recognized he could not stand up to his vassals alone and so he appealed to the pope, who he was sure would side with him, given that Jean had made England a papal fief. By April, the barons’ patience had worn out and they decided to take matters into their own hands. They demanded that Jean agree to a document they had written up called the Articles of the Barons. When he refused, Fitzwalter and his compatriots went into open revolt.

            The First Barons’ War began with a parade of victories for the rebels. On 17 May London opened its gates to Fitzwalter. Meanwhile, King Alexander of Scotland and Prince Llewelyn of Wales took advantage of the chaos and seized territories for themselves. Beset on all sides, Jean conceded. On 15 June 1215 he signed the Charter of Runnymede, which we know today as Magna Carta, the Great Charter. Often depicted as a forward-thinking document that moved the world closer to democracy, its signers envisioned it as a conservative document, enshrining the traditional rights of the nobility.

            Publicly, the revolt was over and king and people were reconciled. Beneath the surface, everyone knew this would not last. Jean made no secret that he considered the document a gross abridgement of his rights. For the next few months he fortified his castles, sent out contracts to French mercenaries and sent new messages to the pope asking him to annul the charter. The English aristocracy was not idle during this time; the northerners organized tournaments near London, giving them a pretext to be near the capital and armed.

            The animosity between Jean and his people was palpable. Historian Catherine Hanley recounts, “in council with the king at Oxford in July 1215 a group of lords publicly insulted [King Jean] by refusing to attend him in his chamber, where he was bedridden with an illness, meaning he had to be carried into their presence, whereupon they refused to stand when he entered.”

            In late summer a letter arrived from Innocent III which declared Magna Carta illegitimate. Believing he had the legal high ground, Jean declared the charter null and void. This was the matchstick that reignited the war. However, this was not just a simple restarting of hostilities. The English nobility had tried to form a working relationship with Jean for over a decade. Yet, the Plantagenet ruler’s cruelty, capriciousness and vindictive personality meant that he had no real friends or allies. By revoking Magna Carta, Jean made it clear that he did not respect custom or law; only force.

The English aristocracy decided that it was time for a new king. But who to turn to? Jean had control over his young children, meaning that if he abdicated in favor of them then he would unquestionably rule behind the throne. Instead, the English looked abroad and decided upon a member of House Capet. For one thing, the Anglo-Norman nobility had little issue with a French lord; they all still spoke French and had ties to France. Jean and his family were part of the French House Plantagenet, so there was no issue with a French royal ruling over England. Second, the English aristocracy admired House Capet. For centuries England was a chaotic country, whose rulers faced constant rebellion by their children. In contrast, France’s kings had peaceful succession going back to their founder over two centuries prior.

            Of the leaders of House Capet, Prince Louis was the only figure that was a serious contender. He was the scion of House Capet, groomed for rule since he was a child. He was ferocious in battle but, like his father, generous in peace. He was pious and as humble as can be expected from an accomplished war-leader and royal. Moreover, it was believed that when he ascended the French throne he would spend more time on the Continent in his richer and more populous possessions, essentially leaving England to its own affairs. Finally, Louis did have a small claim to the English throne. Louis’ wife, Blanche of Castille, was both the granddaughter of King Henri II and Jean’s niece. For all of these reasons the barons concluded that Louis was their ideal candidate.

            That autumn Fitzwalter and a number of leading rebels arrived in Paris where they paid homage to Louis and implored him to take the English throne. Unfortunately for the delegation, Jean was able to take advantage of their absence and retake some of his lost territory. Furthermore, Jean forged a letter which declared that the nobles in revolt still in England had made peace with their king. In response, Philippe II demanded that the delegations’ leaders hand over hostages to prove their trustworthiness; which they did, but the whole affair afforded Jean valuable time.

            Louis wanted to act immediately and sent a preliminary force of 140 knights that December, followed by 20 ships in early January. However, the King of France hesitated. He had spent his entire reign warring for control of his kingdom; if his son were defeated it would embolden those parts of France that opposed him. Furthermore, Innocent III considered England his own papal fief. Philippe II had faced excommunication before and did not want to suffer it again.

            As Jean took the initiative in England, Philippe II called an assembly at Melun to discuss the legitimacy of his son’s claim to the English throne. Between 23 and 25 April 1216 French legal scholars debated with the papal legate Guala Bicchieri over Louis’ right to supplant Jean. The French argued that Jean had lost the right to kingship because he had rebelled against the rightful king Richard I, murdered his nephew Arthur of Brittany and ignored the rights of the church. While each of these arguments carried a heavy moral weight, legally these were relatively weak. Richard I later reconciled with Jean after the latter’s failed rebellion. Jean’s murder of his nephew stripped him of his right to Brittany but not to England, since Arthur never ruled England. Finally, while Jean had abused the church before, as long as England was a papal fief the king was in the church’s good graces. Also, kings regularly crossed boundaries when it came to church rights, so Jean was hardly unique in that regard.

            The assembly was a failure for Louis. Guala and the pope firmly opposed any French invasion of England. Furthermore, Innocent III threatened to excommunicate Philippe II unless he forbade his son from taking up the venture. The prince was not one for words and eventually grew frustrated at the endless debate. He finally stood up and declared that he owed fealty to his father only for his lands in France, otherwise he was free to do as he wished. He concluded that the English nobles had given him the right to invade and that nothing would deter him.

            For the first time, Philippe II and Louis stood on opposite sides of a major issue. Their entire life, the two had fought side-by-side, taking on upstart lords, kings and emperors. Philippe II must have genuinely loved his eldest son, more than most medieval kings loved their heirs. Philippe II had abandoned the Third Crusade when he heard his son had fallen gravely ill. Philippe II had knighted Louis, and watched him grow into a warrior, leader and a father. Sure, France would survive without Louis; Philippe II had two other sons, Philippe and Pierre. But Louis was a man after Philippe II’s own heart. He shared his father’s temperament, his cunning, his strong will and his sense of justice. Philippe II had wanted to pass on a strong kingdom to him and feared that Louis might lose everything in this mad gamble.

            Philippe II tried to talk his son out of the invasion, but Louis could not be deterred. He was 28 years old and ready to finally emerge from his father’s long shadow. At one point the prince blew up in his father’s face, exclaiming, “It is not up to you to decide matters concerning England…I fight for the inheritance of my wife!” Exasperated, Philippe II declared, “By the lance of Saint James, do whatever you like, but you will never succeed, as the English are traitors and felons and they will never keep their word to you.” With that warning, the King of France washed his hands of the whole affair. He would not forbid his beloved son from fighting for a crown, but he would also not support him so as to remain in the good graces of the church. Louis was on his own. Whatever glory or failure he acquired he would do so without his father’s help.

            The first thing Louis had to do was raise an army. He toured his lands and called up his vassals for service. While he could not force his father’s liege lords to join him, he could offer them promises of wealth, land and glory following a victorious campaign. At the end of it all, Louis’ army numbered 1,200 knights and two to three times as many regular soldiers. These assembled on the coast where 800 ships awaited their departure.

Leading the fleet was Eustache le Moine, in English: Eustace the Monk. Eustache was a fascinating figure, best-remembered in the epic poem The Romance of Eustace the Monk. This fanciful tale holds that Eustache was born to a minor lord in the county of Boulogne. He then traveled to Toledo to study where he discovered a vast underground abyss. Inside this chasm he encountered the devil himself, who trained Eustache in the art of necromancy. The poem holds that Eustache learned a thousand spells and became a menace to the land. After finishing his diabolic tutelage he returned to France where he joined a Benedictine monastery. However, the religious life didn’t suit the black-hearted sorcerer and so he left the abbey to pursue a career in politics. After a brief stint in office, his superiors removed him from his position on charges of corruption. The exiled necromancer-monk-bureaucrat fled to the coast where he became a pirate. Beginning in 1205 Eustache served King Jean. Using the Channel Islands as a base of operations, he raided France’s northern coast. However, in 1212 one of Eustache’s main enemies, Renaud of Boulogne, brought together Philippe II’s enemies in a grand alliance. Renaud convinced Jean to declare Eustache a wanted man, forcing the pirate to side with the King of France, just in time for Philippe II to crush his foes at the Battle of Bouvines. Given the excellent timing, I wonder if Satan also taught him some divination spells as well. Thus, Eustache the Monk, perhaps the most interesting man in the world, would be the fleet commander that ferried Louis across the Channel.

            Louis’ armada sailed out on 20 May 1216, during the Feast of Pentecost. As they did, a storm approached. While the ships were spared destruction, they were scattered by the errant wind and waves. A few days later the seafaring vessels managed to reconnect at Sandwich. As the French disembarked, the English king debated attacking but decided against it. Most of Jean’s mercenaries were from Poitou and he feared that if they saw Louis the Lion and his assemblage of great French lords they would abandon him and join the enemy.

            With his army assembled, Louis soon had to choose between two options: besiege Dover Castle or march on London. Dover Castle was at that time the largest castle in England and a behemoth of a fortress that rested on a rocky series of hills. As long as it stood and its soldiers remained loyal to Jean they could launch sorties and then retreat behind their impenetrable walls. Conventional military thinking demanded Louis take Dover and proceed slowly from there. However, wars are not just military calculations but political as well. Louis wanted to seize as much momentum as possible and get the nobility to defect to his cause. For that reason he left Dover Castle for another day and marched on London.

            On the path to London the French army with its English allies arrived at Canterbury. As they did they managed to scare off the papal legate Guala, who was residing there. Guala was firmly on Jean’s side and fled the city to join the king at Winchester. Furthermore, he convened a meeting of as many ecclesiastical figures as he could and excommunicated Louis, though the prince only learned about it later.

            Louis moved from city to castle, accepting the peaceful surrender of each place he visited. On 2 June 1216 Louis was welcomed into the city of London to cheers from its 40,000 citizens, who hoped that the would-be king would end the civil war. It was an uplifting scene; most of England’s barons pledged fealty to him. The clergy of Saint Paul’s Cathedral hastily put together a ceremony for Louis in recognition of his sudden seizure of power. There, Louis swore to uphold the laws and customs of England, respect the church and protect the weak and the innocent.

            For the time being, Louis established himself as England’s ruler. He accepted homage in absentia from the King of Scotland and in person from the many English nobles who traveled to visit him. Louis administered justice and issued writs as if he were the country’s rightful monarch. As he settled into the palace of Westminster, Louis must have felt a definite sense that England had not so much surrendered to him, as it had dropped into his outstretched hand.

If he suspected that things would not be so easy he received confirmation soon afterwards when he learned that Guala had excommunicated him. This no doubt came as a huge blow to such a deeply pious prince. Yet, Louis could take some comfort in knowing that the sentence came from a papal legate, not the pope himself. Louis’ ministers went on a propaganda offensive, sending messengers to churches across the realm to ignore the excommunication, which they claimed had been issued by devious persons. They further assured the people that the archbishop of Canterbury was on his way to Rome to convince the pope to lift the excommunication. This charm offensive worked as none of the aristocracy abandoned Louis over the issue.

When word did reach Innocent III he decided to stall. Louis’ invasion of England was a direct repudiation of a papal command and deeply angered His Holiness. However, Innocent III knew that Louis was a devout Catholic, beloved by the French people. The prince was also first in line for the French throne and might possibly take the English one as well. Finally, Louis was a leading force against Catharism. The Capetians had long been allies of the papacy against the Holy Roman Empire. While popes had excommunicated a number of Capetian kings, this was usually a disciplinary measure as the French royals always re-earned their good standing, and there was no real animosity between Paris and Rome. Innocent III had to choose between a hated king who was utterly dependent on the pope or a beloved prince who could act independently, and he chose to wait to and see what unfolded.

Back in England, only five churches upheld the excommunication, although embarrassingly, one of them was Westminster Abbey, the place where coronation ceremonies were traditionally held. This unfortunate turn of events would have an enormous impact on the course of the war, as Louis held off declaring himself king. Louis concluded that now was not the time given that the abbey closed its doors to him, the archbishop of Canterbury, who traditionally crowned the king, was gone in Rome, Jean had taken the crown jewels with him, and Louis was technically under excommunication. Louis firmly believed that England would fall to him and wanted to hold a ceremony that was uncontested so no upstarts could claim he was an illegitimate ruler. Louis’ reasoning seems valid, though in practice it meant that he was not officially ‘king’ but a placeholder. In time, this decision not to have himself crowned would come back to haunt Louis.

             Louis was in a commanding position by the summer of 1216. Most of the barons, clergy and people were on his side, he controlled the east and south, Alexander of Scotland besieged Carlisle on his behalf while the Prince of Wales also fought against Jean’s loyalists. Still, as long as another man claimed to be King of England, Louis knew his position was at risk. The French prince assembled his French and English forces and divided them into three hosts. Louis would personally lead an army to Winchester to strike at Jean’s powerbase. Fitzwalter went east as part of a mop-up operation to take those territories which had not declared for Louis. The third army would remain in London defending the capital.

            Louis’ early campaign felt like a triumphal tour as castles and towns opened their gates to him. Then on 14 June 1216 Louis arrived at Winchester to find that Jean had razed the town’s suburbs to prevent food and resources from falling into his hands. The king of England appeared utterly unconcerned about how this would devastate his people. Though Jean had abandoned them, the main castle and the bishop’s personal fortress held out against Louis. The French force besieged both strongholds until, after two weeks the defenders realized Jean would not be returning to save them and they surrendered.

            While Louis could win a battle, winning the peace became increasingly difficult. Louis showed magnanimity to his defeated foes, and allowed the castles’ garrisons to leave unharmed. Some defected to his side, as they admired the just and benevolent ruler. Others would later join Louis’ enemies because they never wanted the prince in power or simply because one side was paying them.

Another problem Louis faced was dividing up the spoils. Each time he took a new territory he had to decide which of his vassals to reward. This was particularly difficult as he had both French and English supporters. Many French knights expected this venture to be akin to the Norman Conquest, wherein the Duke of Normandy smashed the English aristocracy and replaced them with his own people. But Louis could not do that; he needed English support if he wanted to win and hold the island kingdom. The victorious prince divvied up the territories as fairly as he could and satisfied most of his followers, if not all of them.

            After taking Winchester and a number of important cities and castles, Louis then wheeled around and returned to London. While there he learned that Innocent III had died and was replaced by Honorius III. Given the new pope’s relatively weak position, Louis was confident that he would not uphold the excommunication. Furthermore, Louis learned that his allies across England were taking more territory. With victories on all sides, Louis decided to move on the stone behemoth that was Dover Castle while his cousin Robert de Dreux besieged Windsor.

            If you’ve ever been to Dover Castle you can only imagine how difficult it would be to assail. During his time in England, the castle proved to be Louis’ bleeding ulcer. Its defenders made effective use of their titanic fortress’ defensive capabilities, exacting a heavy toll on those who chose to assault it. The progress that the French made never seemed enough. Sappers undermined the walls, towers and gatehouses. Catapults peppered the stone outcroppings. Louis even had his subordinates import a special weapon from France: Malvoisin, ‘The Bad Neighbor,’ the first trebuchet that England had ever seen. Yet, the fortress proved remarkably resilient to all attacks. What victories the French and their allies won were costly and indecisive. Furthermore, the French prince had to commit a large land force and ships to prevent the castle’s garrison from striking out. If the French committed their forces elsewhere, the defenders would inevitably launch a sortie, attacking valuable supply lines, before retreating back to their impregnable walls.

            The prolonged siege wore on the invading forces. Fall in England was predictably rainy. The French army was wet and miserable as it camped on uneven terrain, even as the Doverites enjoyed well-made roofs over their heads and thick stone walls that shielded them from the wind. It was not long before disease spread through the camp, killing some and sickening many others. French nobles began leaving the campaign, claiming that they had fulfilled their feudal obligations to their prince and were returning home. Mercenaries complained about the lack of pay. Louis did get a small boost when Alexander of Scotland arrived in Canterbury to do homage to him. However, this was quickly offset by the news that Honorius III confirmed his excommunication. For the first time since his arrival the war reached a standstill.

As the siege dragged on Louis frequently burst into fits of rage at Dover’s defiance. He wanted a victory, particularly against King Jean, who was waging war in the counties just north of Louis’ position. On 14 October 1216, the French leader made a truce with the defenders and abandoned the siege. Dover would have to wait for another day. Instead, Louis marched out to fight against the king of England directly.

While Louis had anchored himself in one location for months, Jean was in constant motion. The cowardly monarch did not commit to a pitched battle against Robert de Dreux and instead launched a scorched earth campaign against his own people. This strategy proved highly effective. Pre-modern armies did not have ample resources and instead relied on foraging and ‘obtaining’ food and supplies from locals. Jean’s tactics were ruthless; he did not even spare church lands. Peasants helplessly watched their food stores go up in flames, knowing that they would likely starve to death over the winter. These cruel acts had their intended effect as the French under Robert de Dreux had to abandon their siege of Windsor and scavenge for anything they might eat.

            Sometime in early October, Jean contracted dysentery. Sick and harassed by his enemies, the king led a miserable retreat towards Newark. During their flight the English lost most of their baggage train to quicksand including the English crown and other royal jewels. His illness drained his strength and the decrepit king had to be carried in a litter for the final leg of the trip. Sensing his death was nigh, on 18 October he decreed his last will and testament. He allocated a number of his belongings to the poor and the church, perhaps hoping it would make up for his many sins. That night he passed away at the age of 49.  

            Louis’ rival for the throne was dead, meaning that the prince of France quickly and easily became the king of England, right? Actually, no. As it turned out, Jean’s death was the worst thing that could have happened to Louis. The English aristocracy respected Louis but had no particular love or attachment to the foreign lord. They had only invited him to their country because Jean was such a maniacal tyrant that they were willing to launch a civil war to be rid of him. Meanwhile, House Plantagenet lived on with the 9-year-old Henri next in line for the throne.

            Someone unfamiliar with the medieval mindset might think that nobles would not want a child leader. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps the most important aspect of medieval politics was the complex relationship between the monarchy and aristocracy. Aristocrats wanted a strong monarch to protect their lands and rights from rival nobles. At the same time, nobles feared a strong monarch who might abuse them in turn. This paradoxical need for a strong and weak ruler created a naturally unstable position. Yet, if aristocrats had to choose, they often preferred a weak figurehead who they could control. Given that England had just suffered under an oppressive tyrant, many English were ready for an impotent leader.

            Young Henri did not have a lot going for him. He was holed up in the Norman castle of Devizes in southwestern England with his mother, Isabelle of Angoulême. The minority of barons that remained loyal to Jean pledged themselves to the boy-king, though these were well-outnumbered by Louis’ own English supporters. However, Henri did have highly enthusiastic and capable supporters who were adept at battlefield tactics and grand politicking. Henri’s two most important and enthusiastic allies were William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, and Guala. William Marshal served as the de facto military and political leader of the pro-Henri camp while Guala provided religious legitimacy to the boy’s claims.

            One of the first acts that William Marshal organized was a crowning ceremony on 28 October. It was one of the least impressive in English history: the archbishop of Canterbury did not preside, the crown itself had been lost, and with London under Louis’ control the ceremony had to take place in Gloucester. At the beginning of the event, Henri burst into tears. He had only just turned 9 years old a few weeks prior, his father was dead and he had to deliver a difficult speech about how he would be a good ruler; let’s cut him some slack. Henri then recited a number of oaths to protect the innocent and uphold the laws of the land. Afterwards he was ‘crowned’ with a woman’s circlet, perhaps the only jewelry that would fit on his small head.

            Henri’s reign began quietly and without much fanfare. Only one major noble initially defected from Louis to the boy-king. However, on 12 November 1216, William Marshal and Guala dropped a bombshell that would change the entire course of the war: they reissued Magna Carta. Previously, the English aristocracy looked at Louis as the better safeguard of their rights. Now, Henri appeared to be the champion of the nobility and its traditional rights against a powerful lord and foreign invader. The declaration upended the basis for the entire war, though it had little immediate effect. More than anything, the nobles were fighting for whoever they thought would win, and Louis still seemed like the better pick.

            The end of the year 1216 and into 1217 was relatively calm. The two sides agreed to a Christmas truce and then another that lasted until April. In the meantime, Louis renewed the siege at Dover, which still stubbornly held out. Henri’s side could not act as decisively on the battlefield, but it began a major propaganda war that proved highly effective, largely due to its support from Rome. Honorius III demanded that Louis withdraw from England. The pope further annulled vows by barons to the French prince and demanded the clergy shift their support to the boy-king. Guala took advantage of the pope’s message to call the war a crusade by the English faithful against the excommunicated invader from France, even having the Henrician soldiers stitch white crosses on their clothing. As a result, all twelve bishops of England switched their allegiance to Henri, save only the bishop of Ely.

            In late February, Louis made a disastrous decision: he left England to return to France. The move was perhaps necessary as he needed to raise funds and soldiers to continue the war. However, his absence left many English questioning his devotion to the island nation. Furthermore, Louis’ mission was largely a failure. His father still refused to support the campaign so long as the pope condemned it. Furthermore, many of Louis’ vassals made excuses not to serve or give money, with some going on crusade. On 22 April 1217, Louis sailed back to England having only raised an additional 140 knights. In his absence a number of powerful nobles defected, and William Marshal had broken the truce to go on the offensive.

            For the first time since Louis had joined the war, the course of the conflict was turning against him. Yet, he still had one great ally: his wife. From her position on the mainland, Blanche ran her husband’s estates and even corralled some of his vassals to serve or donate money. Blanche was exceptionally effective at getting what she wanted. She was intelligent and had a forceful personality. She was also the queen-presumptive, meaning that everyone wanted to be in her good graces before she and her husband took the throne of France, if not also England. Through her person and personality, Blanche successfully pressured French lords until she was able to raise a second fleet to aid her husband’s war effort.

            Blanche was so skilled she even managed to get her father-in-law to contribute to the cause. According to one chronicle the princess stormed into the king’s throne room and asked Philippe II if he was willing to let his firstborn son die on foreign soil. The usually-composed Philippe II Auguste refused to take the bait, fearing an excommunication from His Holiness. Blanche then declared that she would pawn off her three sons to whoever would offer the money needed to continue the campaign and walked out of the room. After a moment, Philippe II realized that she probably was not bluffing. He recalled his daughter-in-law and opened the royal coffers to her. Philippe II had defeated counts, kings and emperors, but he was no match for his daughter-in-law. Yet, when the pope inevitably demanded to know why Philippe II had broken his neutrality, the King of France could declare that he still remained on the sidelines as he had given money to Blanche, not Louis.

            When Louis had first arrived in England in 1216, his campaign had seemed more like a parade as he went from city to town to castle, accepting the cheerful subservience of his new subjects. When Louis returned to England in the Spring of 1217 the war became increasingly brutal. The prince immediately burned Sandwich to the ground for the crime of defecting to his enemies. He then marched on Winchester where William Marshal and the young king Henri were stationed. The English camp realized they could not defeat Louis and so they razed the city and fled, leaving him with nothing but ashes.

            Louis now firmly stationed himself at Dover, determined to finally crack the English stronghold. Yet, the impregnable fortress held out. Meanwhile, Louis’ major English allies were utterly routed at Lincoln and all of them were captured, save only Thomas, Count of Perche, who died in combat. A handful of survivors of the battle approached Louis with the news, which drove him into a fit of rage. Louis had personally never lost a battle since the war began, though his allies’ repeated failures threatened to upend the entire war.

             Louis’ campaign was further undermined by politicking. Honorius III was determined to launch a Fifth Crusade to retake Jerusalem. War between European states meant that Christian knights who could be killing Muslims were instead busy killing each other, something which His Holiness could not tolerate. Furthermore, the pope wanted Louis the Lion to personally lead this venture. Papal envoys attempted to negotiate peace between Louis and William Marshal but these broke down when the vindictive Guala refused to pardon four priests who had sided with the French prince. Louis believed in honor and loyalty and so he refused to abandon those who had put their faith in him, meaning the war went on. Yet, as the French continued to struggle, more English barons switched sides.

            Just as Louis’ English dream seemed to be falling apart, a final hope came from France. Blanche had raised a new fleet at Calais, comprised of 10 combat-worthy ships and roughly 60 smaller vessels that mainly transported goods and troops which she personally waved off on 20 August. The French ships approached Dover when a storm hit. Nearby English sailors spotted the French ships approach, then sail away, knowing that they would return. This twist of fate meant that a nearby English cadre of ships knew where, when and roughly how many French ships would approach England.

            On 24 August 1217, an English fleet sailed out to meet the French navy just off of Sandwich. The English had eighteen large ships and twenty smaller ones, meaning they had less quantity, though higher-quality vessels. One major advantage the English held was that their ships were purely outfitted for naval combat, whereas the French ships were carrying large stores of weapons, food, cash and even siege equipment. A handful of English ships led the charge while those immediately behind followed in their wake. This formation made it difficult for the French to determine just how many English ships there were. Believing that the English fleet was much smaller than it was, Eustache the Monk ordered his men to charge directly towards them.

            The captain of the English fleet, Hubert de Burgh, sailed his own ship past Eustache. This maneuver meant that the French flagship was now surrounded by English ships, whose crew pelted the French with arrows and stones. Worst of all, they threw pots of finely ground lime at the French, which blinded them. Soon the English began boarding the ship, killing the entire crew. The battle became a bloodbath as the swift and maneuverable English ships rammed into the slow-moving French ones, sending many to their death. In the wake of this triumph, Hubert de Burgh took a grisly trophy: he had Eustache the Monk decapitated, pinned his head to the end of a lance and sent it to Canterbury. There the English celebrated Eustache’s death as he had harassed their coasts for decades. The petty noble, necromancer, politician and pirate was no more.

            The Battle of Sandwich was the clear end of the war. With no reinforcements coming, Louis could not hope to win the Kingdom of England. Over the next week the two sides began peace negotiations. Catherine Hanley writes, “On 5 September 1217, his thirtieth birthday, Louis met William Marshal in person – the first time they had come face to face – on an island in the Thames.” Over the next several weeks the two sides agreed to the Treaty of Lambeth. The peace called for a general amnesty for all who had participated on either side. Louis was to give up any claims to England and leave the country. In exchange, the English would pay him 4,000 silver marks immediately and 6,000 over a period of time. Considering that this sum of 10,000 marks amounted to one-quarter of England’s entire national income it was a hefty payment. If this seems generous it was because of two main reasons: the first was that while Louis could not take England entirely he still had a large and powerful force within the country that the English wanted gone. Second, Louis was the heir to the throne of France and the English did not want to antagonize the man who would become the most powerful ruler in the west. Despite Guala’s demands that Louis do penance in bare feet and a sackcloth, the English barons decided it was best to treat kindly with the prince of France and be done with the whole affair. Louis agreed to the treaty on 18 September 1217 and left England 10 days later, never to return.

            Louis was undoubtedly personally crushed by his failure to take the English throne, especially when he had come so close. When he had faced Jean, it looked as if nearly the whole island would happily throw themselves at him. Yet, fate turned against him. The would-be king was a prince yet again. Still, he could at least console himself with the knowledge that he had not been defeated. He personally did not lose a single battle during the war and the prestige of House Capet remained intact. The brutality of the war left England in a weakened position, and the 9-year-old king posed no threat to the King of France’s domain. Louis also went home with a significant amount of cash and he was no longer excommunicated. It was one of the softest defeats possible, even if it was a defeat.

            In a strange twist of fate, almost as soon as Louis returned he was offered the crown of another foreign kingdom, this time of Castille. Due to a series of unfortunate deaths and resignations, the nobles of Castille asked Blanche to take up the throne with her husband. This time, Louis declined, having had enough of foreign adventures for a while and content with waiting to become King of France.

            Louis’ last major act as prince was to lead an army against the Cathars. I’ll have much more to say about the Cathars in a later episode, but suffice it to say that these were Christians whose beliefs significantly deviated from accepted church doctrine, such that the papacy condemned them as heretics and called for a crusade against them in their stronghold of Languedoc, which is southern France. The Albigensian Crusade was the first declared holy war of Christians against Christians, and was one which reshaped the Kingdom of France as northern knights brutally invaded the south, destroying much of its local culture.

            On 15 May 1219 Louis’ armies marched south and quickly arrived at Marmande. The city’s count approached the prince and begged forgiveness, which Louis granted. Then the northerners massacred all those in the city, a practice which became common in this brutal war that claimed the lives of up to one million people. On 16 June Louis besieged the great city of Toulouse, though he had to abandon the campaign not long after as many of his lords argued that they had fulfilled their required 40 days of service. The Albigensian Crusade was a prolonged, on-and-off conflict that had been going on for 10 years previous and would last another 10 bloody years before Catharism was stamped out.

            On 14 July 1223 the unthinkable happened: Philippe II passed away. He had reigned for 43 years and 45 days. Philippe II Auguste had been a colossal figure in French history. He had tripled the size of the royal domain and ruled for as long as most of his subjects could remember. After mourning his father’s passing, Louis prepared to finally take up the mantle of king at nearly 36 years old.

            On 6 August 1223, Louis and his wife arrived at the head of a procession at Reims Cathedral. For the first time in over four decades the holy place hosted a coronation. First came the spiritual rituals. Louis was anointed with oil, given a rod symbolizing justice and crowned. Next came the military aspect. Louis was given a ceremonial sword, shield, spurs and a standard. With these rituals completed, prince Louis finally became king Louis VIII.

After Louis VIII, Blanche underwent her own, shorter ceremony. When these had finished, the new king and queen celebrated with the most elaborate feast the kingdom had seen for a long time. The royal couple then moved from Reims to the capital, where they received the adoration of the people. Afterwards, he toured the recently-incorporated territories of Tournai, Anjou, Normandy, Arras and Flanders, familiarizing his new subjects to their Capetian ruler.

            After a year of peace and consolidation, Louis VIII decided to continue his father’s work of destroying the Angevin power on the Continent and ensuring his own domination over France. For many years after Louis VIII’s failed campaign, the central government of England still had to contend with upstart barons and foreign threats, namely from the Prince of Wales. In the midst of this chaos, the King of France raised an army and headed southwest. There his forces linked up with the powerful Hugues de Lusignan, Count of Angoulême. The lords of Poitou surrendered to Louis VIII without a fight. Their nominal king, Henri III of England, had never once set foot in France. By this time it had been ten years since any Angevin ruler had been to southwestern France and most lords were not willing to die for a foreign ruler that did not seem to care for them in the slightest.

Louis VIII met his first opposition at the port city of La Rochelle. Aside from being a major city, La Rochelle was important because it provided the northernmost safe landing point for English soldiers. It was also economically tied to England through trade, providing England with French wine. The English defenders could not give up their good French wine, nor the money that came with it, and prepared for a siege. Yet, this conflict only lasted two weeks. The Angevin king was busy besieging Bedford and could not send aid. Recognizing the hopelessness of their situation, the defenders surrendered.

Louis VIII the Lion had taken Poitou in two months and with hardly a fight. Now, the king of England only held Gascony, a sliver of territory in the far southwest centered around Bordeaux. Moreover, Louis VIII was firm in his holdings. When the war first broke out Honorius III protested but did not even threaten excommunication. Louis VIII replied to the pope’s harshly-worded letter that if His Holiness moved against him then he would invade England. That shut the pope up, securing yet another bloodless victory.

            Louis VIII’s final campaign was another foray into Languedoc. As a pious man he enthusiastically answered the church’s call to exterminate Catharism. As king of France, he wanted to expand his power over a region that had ignored its northern-based ruler for so long. This religious conflict had recently taken a sharp turn in 1222 when Raymond VI of Toulouse died and was replaced by his son, Raymond VII. The energetic and capable young man defeated the Catholic leader Amaury de Montfort virtually every time they met. These victories emboldened fellow Cathars to come out of hiding and retake power across the region until Amaury had to flee Languedoc altogether. It was clear to all that no lord save the king of France was strong enough to turn the tide of war.

            Heeding the call to crusade, Louis VIII raised an enormous army at Bourges in May 1226. Numerous cities, including Béziers, Carcassonne, Marseille and Nîmes declared their support for the king and of Catholicism long before he had even entered Languedoc, as southerners feared that they would be massacred wholesale, as had become common during the Albigensian Crusade.

The first city to oppose the northern Catholics was Avignon. Avignon was in Provence, not the County of Toulouse, and so the city was not then at war. Yet, for some strange reason, the people of Avignon chose to pick a fight against Louis VIII. Why exactly this happened remains a point of debate. One chronicle holds that Louis VIII sent his friend and ally Guy, Count of Saint Pol, to negotiate with the city. The defenders thought the king himself had come and so they captured him, which tipped Louis VIII off to their plans to fight against him and for Catharism. Perhaps the more likely reason is that the northern army approached and frightened the citizens, who feared they would all be slaughtered, prompting them to close their gates and destroy the nearby bridge.

            On 10 June 1226, the northern armies laid siege to Avignon. Perhaps Louis VIII had flashbacks to his time at Dover during the ordeal, as Avignon similarly proved unassailable. The city was defended by massive walls, a swift-moving river and a significant mercenary force. Meanwhile, Raymond VII of Toulouse harassed the royal army with hit-and-run tactics while burning the countryside. Before long the northern nobles began to grumble about the miserable conditions they faced. While the king of France wanted to focus on the immediate conflict, it is likely that he also worried that his men would abandon him during a prolonged siege. The last time he had been in the south he had to give up the campaign after his vassals argued they had served their time. Raymond VII was unquestionably aware of this fact. The Count of Toulouse knew that he could never defeat King Louis VIII the Lion in a pitched battle or all-out war. Yet, all the southerners had to do was bleed out their opponents until they grew frustrated with the whole affair and went home.

            With few options remaining, Louis VIII decided to do what was politically savvy even if it was tactically inadvisable: he ordered an assault on the city. The attack was an easily predictable disaster. The city’s defenders launched a storm of arrows and stones on their enemies. At one point, the sheer weight of hastily retreating soldiers on the secondary bridge caused it to collapse. Hundreds of northern knights sank to the bottom of the river, dragged down by their heavy armor. The debacle also struck Louis VIII personally when his childhood friend Guy of Saint Pol was killed. Torn by grief and rage, Louis VIII decreed that his armies would settle in for a prolonged siege.

            Months passed and the garrison of Avignon realized that the King of France was not leaving. Even though the walls would hold, the citizens were fast running out of food. Bowing to the inevitable, they began negotiations in late August or early September and the city surrendered to Louis VIII in exchange for general amnesty.

            Louis VIII led his army southward for another month but the campaign quickly unraveled. Just like last time, his vassals declared that they had fulfilled their oaths and wanted to go home. Furthermore, as summer ended and winter approached such a large army would struggle to feed itself. As much as Louis VIII wanted to crush the Count of Toulouse, he acquiesced to his soldiers’ demands and led them home.

            As the king marched north, he developed severe stomach pains. Dysentery set in and Louis VIII’s vital strength left him. The king rested at the Château de Montpensier in Auvergne and gathered his closest advisors around him, making them swear to support his son Louis as the new king. On 8 November 1226, Louis VIII died, having lived to the age of 39. He had been king of France for just over 3 years. Physicians then removed the king’s heart and entrails, which they buried in a nearby abbey and embalmed the body so it could be transported back to Paris. There, Louis VIII was interred at Saint-Denis beside his father.

            Louis VIII’s reign was incredibly short for a Capetian. Louis VIII’s father had ruled for 43 years, as had his grandfather. In fact, every prior Capetian had been king for at least 29 years, save only their progenitor Hugues Capet, who still ruled for a respectable 13. At a time when death was ever-present, the Capetians shocked Europe with their longevity and the stability of their succession. Louis VIII ended that streak with his quick reign and sudden passing.

            Louis VIII’s remarkably short time as the sole ruler of France means that he has been mostly overlooked by historians and the public. Another reason for his lack of fame is that he is sandwiched between the two greatest Capetians: his father Philippe II Auguste and his son Saint Louis IX. Caught between an Augustus and a saint, few remember the lion. Yet, despite Louis VIII’s short time as monarch he played an oversized role in aggrandizing France and House Capet.

            As the prince of France, Louis VIII was among Philippe II Auguste’s most trusted generals and advisors. Louis VIII shared in virtually every accomplishment that his father held. Even as Philippe II won the Battle of Bouvines, Louis VIII made this possible by defeating the Angevins in the west. When he was not aiding his father, Louis VIII engaged in other adventures that strengthened his country and house. While ultimately a failure, his English campaign weakened the island nation so much that he was able to effortlessly take Poitou a few years later. His involvement in the Albigensian Crusade expanded Capetian power south. This was an important turn as Philippe II had been afraid to overstretch himself and confined his authority to the north. Under Louis VIII, the king of France asserted his right to rule over the whole kingdom and began a process that his descendants would complete.

            As king, Louis VIII’s reign was admirable but short. Instead, Louis the Lion should best be known as possibly the greatest prince in French history.

Sources:

John W. Baldwin, The Government of Philip Augustus: Foundations of French Royal Power in the Middle Ages, 1986.

Catherine Hanley, Louis the French Prince who Invaded England, 2016.

Eustace the Monk: A New Translation of the Romance