fever, his last act being the plunder of a shrine. Geoffrey followed him three years later, trampled to death during a tournament. His friend, the young French king Philippe II, was so distraught that he tried to throw himself into the grave.
The king’s woes did not end there. Again he attempted to intercede on behalf of John, demanding that Richard part with Aquitaine. For the heir to hand over this large, wealthy region of France, ancestral home of his mother, was an insult too much; now older, wiser and more dangerous, he raised an army against his father. With his mother, Richard joined forces with the young King of France against Henry, and father and son met at Le Mans, where the two men appeared to embrace. The old king whispered in his ear: ‘God spare me long enough to take revenge on you.’
The two rival armies were camped close to each other during the peace talks of January 1189, and the atmosphere was extremely tense. In the no man’s land between them, Richard and a gang of men accidentally caught up with some of the king’s followers, led by Henry’s loyal knight William Marshal, an old friend of Richard’s and the very pinnacle of chivalry.
Marshal had experienced the most incredible life, much of which found its way into medieval tales and later novels and films (most recently in A Knight’s Tale , in which Heath Ledger re-enacted a number of incidents from his story). The fourth son of a Wiltshire baron, he’d made his money as a professional jouster, earning a fortune by taking the armour of his defeated opponents. He won partly because he had an unusually thick skull, although on several occasions he’d needed blacksmiths to remove a bashed-in helmet from his head.
Such games were incredibly important, being essentially training for war: among the popular sports were cudgelling, which was won when blood poured down the opponent’s scalp; quarter-staff, in which poles over six feet long were used to knock the opponent over, preferably out; or single-stick, similar to quarter-staff but which ended when one of the competitors was covered in blood. Although brutal, they were an accepted feature of life among the aristocracy; Henry III tried to ban them but only because he feared they would promote conspiracies. The Church had been opposed to tournaments on moral grounds, refusing burial to those who died in them, but abandoned this stance in 1316, when Pope John XXII concluded they were good training for crusaders. But they did become less violent. In the 12th century such games were basically mock battles and brute force was the important factor. By the 14th there were two horsemen in a joust, and more emphasis on skill rather than just smashing the other man’s face in, and far fewer fatalities, although these were still regular. Barriers between the two knights weren’t introduced until the 15th century.
But Marshal was lucky to be alive at all. His father, John, had sided with Matilda during the Anarchy and King Stephen had taken the 10-year-old William hostage. When he threatened to kill the boy, his father replied to go ahead, for: ‘I have the hammers and anvil to forge an even finer son.’ (Similar to a line used by Walder Frey in Game of Thrones .) William was taken to be hanged in front of a horrified crowd that included his father, but as his head was placed in the noose Stephen grabbed the boy and took him away, promising from that point to look after him. Marshal later became a knight of Prince Richard, but the two had fallen out over a woman, and by now they were firm enemies. That day in January 1189 they hadn’t expected to fight and neither was wearing a helmet, but Marshal rode straight at the prince. ‘By God’s legs do not kill me, Marshal’ Richard cried out, ‘that would be wrong, I am unarmed.’ At the last moment Marshal ran his lance into the prince’s horse instead.
Now the king learned that favourite son John had joined the rebellion. Broken-hearted, he