In what I like to think is an attempt to make up for that final season of Game of Thrones, George R. R. Martin and HBO are back on our screens with House of the Dragon. Now in its second series, the show follows events in the fictional kingdom of Westeros about two hundred years before Game of Thrones.
The plot is centered around the death of the king and the civil war that breaks out in the aftermath between his children. While Game of Thrones is (loosely) based on the Wars of the Roses, House of the Dragon is also inspired by a civil war from a little over three hundred years earlier in English history. This period of fifteen years became known as The Anarchy, although there is some debate over how apt a name that is for the war, given that the country’s governmental institutions remained intact. There was just some violent debate between armies over who should head said institution.
While House of the Dragon depicts a war between Princess Rhaenyra, the eldest child and chosen heir of her royal father, and Aegon, her younger half brother, The Anarchy was fought between Empress Matilda, the only surviving child and chosen heir of her royal father, and Stephen, her cousin. What is particularly fascinating about The Anarchy was how seemingly unexpected it was, not least because King Henry I fathered around thirty children, that we know of (though only two of them were legitimate).
Unfortunately, a succession crisis late in his reign led to The Anarchy, the events which inspired House of the Dragon albeit with less incest and fewer dragons. In this part, we look at the two major players as well as the disaster that lay the foundations for their eventual conflict.
The Blacks: Matilda
Our Princess Rhaenyra is the daughter of King Henry I of England; Princess Matilda. At the time, England was a relatively minor concern for its ruling family who considered their other kingdom, the Duchy of Normandy, more prestigious and important. Under Henry I however, England began its journey to becoming a leading European power.
Matilda was the first of Henry’s children with his wife, also Matilda, but while technically born his heir, nobody expected her to hold onto this position. She had been born to her parents in the early years of their marriage and her father had already fathered several illegitimate children, among them two daughters also called Matilda. Henry would go on to recognise at least twenty natural children but even without this veritable army of almost-royal babies, there was every reason to expect Matilda to cede the succession to a brother. And, as expected, eighteen months later she was joined in the royal nursery by said brother; William Adelin.
In late 1108/early 1109, the Holy Roman Emperor, twenty-one year old Henry V, began negotiations for the hand of six year old Matilda. The Holy Roman Empire was one of the most expansive kingdoms in Medieval Europe incorporating (in modern terms) Germany, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Austria, Czech Republic, Northern Italy, Belgium, East France, West Poland, and Slovenia. The marriage between the Empire and England, on paper, was grossly unbalanced. However, what Henry I lacked in prestige and land, he made up for with something sought after by every king on the continent; money.
A marriage treaty was concluded between the two kingdoms. Henry I gained an immense boost to his reputation and position on the world stage, while Henry V gained a young bride and some desperately needed cash. The following year, in 1110, eight year old Matilda left England to assume her role as the Holy Roman Empress.
Henry V greeted his wife-to-be with considerable care for her age and the journey she had undertaken to meet him. They were betrothed with a wedding planned for four years later, when Matilda reached the age of marriage. In the meantime, however, Henry V was determined that Matilda would receive the best possible education and grounding in the affairs of the Empire.
Matilda was crowned Queen of the Germans some months after her arrival and assumed her role as Empress. It was clear that, despite her youth, Matilda’s husband was looking for a queen rather than a youthful trophy bride to bear his children. Given the efforts he put into her education, we can assume that Henry wanted an equal who could hold her own at court, and act as regent should the need arise.
That is exactly what Matilda became.
The couple were married when she turned thirteen years old, assuming the role of queen consort after conducting herself capably as Empress in the interim. The marriage would be a solid one. Despite the age difference, the couple were deeply fond of each other. Matilda accompanied her husband around the Empire and acted as regent in his absence. Meanwhile, her father and husband corresponded frequently and were extremely close given that they had never met. Henry and Matilda were married for eleven years but, for whatever reason, the marriage produced no children, leaving no obvious successor upon Henry’s death.
In the May of 1125, Henry V became unable to hide an illness which he had successfully concealed for several months. Thought by modern historians to be cancer, Henry rapidly deteriorated. Matilda was at his bedside throughout and his dying act was to entrust her with the relics of the Empire until his successor could be elected.
With no children, Matilda found herself without a role at court. She was immediately bombarded with offers of marriage which would have allowed her to remain in the country where she was extremely popular but any marriage would be a significant step down from what she was accustomed. It was suggested that she might become a nun but she was still a young woman and had little inclination to join a convent. A year after her husband’s death, Matilda forfeited her German dower lands and decided to return to her father’s kingdom. She brought with her some mementos and relics of her time in the Empire but more importantly, the wisdom and experience of a woman who had occupied one of the highest positions on the Continent.
The Greens: Stephen of Blois
Stephen of Blois was one of eleven children born to Stephen-Henry, Duke of Blois, and Henry I’s sister, Adela. The Duchy of Blois was one of the most powerful French duchies and located close to Normandy. The marriage between Adela and Stephen-Henry united the two mightiest duchies in France. Though Stephen Jr wasn’t the eldest son and therefore heir, he was born into an extremely comfortable position.
In 1102, while Stephen was at most ten years old, his father died on Crusade. The Duchy passed to Stephen’s brother and it was arranged for Stephen to join his Uncle’s court in England. There he received a fitting education but, more significantly, he gained his Uncle’s favour.
Stephen became a popular figure at the English court. As the king’s nephew, he was recognised as an important member of the royal family. But as the youngest son in his own family, he was a distant enough relation that he didn’t pose a threat to anybody’s regnal claims. (Famous last words).
With Henry’s support and patronage, Stephen became one of the most powerful men at court. Stephen’s life and career is less documented than his future rival, Empress Matilda, for obvious reasons, but we know that Henry I awarded Stephen vast land holdings. In 1112, Henry I granted Stephen the lucrative County of Mortain, an area of land that belonged to the Dukes of Normandy, and granted by them to members of their family, usually as a reward for service. As well as the land itself, this grant came with a title and Stephen could style himself the Count of Mortain.
In 1125, while Matilda was losing her husband, Stephen was gaining a wife when Henry I arranged his marriage to Matilda of Boulogne. This Matilda was also a relation of the king; she was his niece through marriage; the daughter of his wife’s sister. She was likely named for her aunt, Queen Matilda. (The Normans weren’t all that creative with names). Through her mother, Matilda of Boulogne was a granddaughter of the King of Scotland, and as her parents only child, she was the sole heiress of Boulogne. She already held profitable lands in Kent and her marriage to Stephen made the couple the wealthiest in the country (below the king).
This position was bolstered, within months of the wedding, when Matilda’s father died. Stephen and Matilda inherited the Duchy of Boulogne. Stephen was now the Count of Mortain and Boulogne and unlike many of his peers, had the money to back it up.
Apparently, although the marriage was arranged by Henry I, Stephen and Matilda were very much in love and deeply devoted to each other. Matilda was much involved with the running of their English estates and credited with their profitibility. In Anglo-Norman society, Stephen was popular among the nobles for his personal qualities. He was personable, modest, pious to the point of note but not of detriment, and he was known as a capable military leader, having accompanied his uncle on a number of campaigns. His popularity surely wasn’t hurt by the fact that he was also extremely well connected during a time when such connections were paramount in society. He was obviously a member of the royal family and therefore close to its other members; the king, the heir; William, the king’s other children at court etc. Abroad, his brothers between them were the Counts of Sully, Champagne and Brie, and Blois and Chartres. One of his sisters had married the Earl of Chester, an earldom so powerful that from the thirteenth century it was given only to the royal heir apparant. Later, it would be given in conjunction with the title of Prince of Wales. But perhaps Stephen’s most significant connection, even more so than that of the king, was through his brother Henry who was Bishop of Winchester. Another favourite of the king, this Henry was one of the most powerful churchmen in England and, incidentally, the richest man in England after his brother.
The White Ship Disaster
Neither Matilda or Stephen had any cause to think that they would be in contention for the English throne. After all, Henry I had a son; William Adelin. Through his parents, William represented a union between the Norman Dukes who had conquered England, and the Anglo-Saxons who had ruled before them. William was invested with the Duchy of Normandy and after his mother’s death in 1118, fifteen year old William was often left as regent in his father’s absences. He was married to Matilda of Anjou, Anjou being Normandy’s greatest rival at the time, and from the age of sixteen was referred to as ‘the king designate’. It’s possible Henry I planned to invest him with the throne before Henry himself died, as per some French customs, but regardless of this; there was no reason to think that William wouldn’t inherit. The eagle-eyed among you might have noted the word ‘disaster’ in the title and figured where this is going. The event is sometimes called the Titanic of its day if you wanted further clues.
In mid-November 1120, having successfully concluded buisiness in Normandy and France, Henry I and his court were looking to cross the English Channel back to England. The majority of Henry’s court was present as were a number of his children including his son and heir, William. In total, there were around five-six hundred nobles, churchmen, and soldiers in the royal entourage or accompanying it. They gathered at Barfleur, a port in Normandy, perfectly situated for the short hop across the Channel, and waited for the weather to turn favourable enough to travel.
While they were waiting, the king was approached by one Thomas FitzStephen. FitzStephen asked if he might be granted the honour of conveying the king and his entourage to England aboard his recently outfitted ship, the Blanche Nef (or White Ship). The White Ship was boasted to be one of the fastest available as FitzStephen maintained a complete crew of oarsmen, ensuring the White Ship wasn’t reliant on the wind for her speed. She was a striking ship (painted white) but FitzStephen had a more personal reason for making the offer. His own father had been captain of William the Conqueror’s flagship during the Norman invasion. His father had conveyed Henry’s father to the English throne, and now it would be particularly apposite if FitzStephen could do the same. The king was intrigued but already comfortable with the plans he had already made. However, as a show of support he would allow FitzStephen to convey William Adelin plus Henry’s treasure chests, across the Channel.
William Adelin was indeed thrilled to be travelling in style, and the White Ship quickly became the official party boat of the crossing. On the 25th November, the wind changed, allowing for the boats to disembark and the debauchary began. William had so much wine brought aboard that there was no room for additional luggage beyond the king’s chests which had already been loaded. Henry I deemed the party becoming to raucous for William’s young bride and had her instead join him aboard his own ship.
While Henry departed, those aboard the White Ship continued to party with the intention of catching and overtaking the king during the crossing. Until then, the wine flowed freely. A little too freely, as the crew were also encouraged to drink. It didn’t take long for the majority to be well and truly wasted. Some passengers were so drunk that they chased off the priests who came to bless the ship’s journey, prompting several others to disembark out of sheer superstition.
Stephen of Blois was, incidentally, aboard until the last minute when he also disembarked in what might have been the most fortuitous attack of diarrhea recorded in human history.
The ship shot out of port in the early hours of the morning while tide and wind were still in their favour. Determined to overtake the king quickly, the revellers called for more speed, which was provided by the oarsmen, however drunk they might have been. Unfortunately, the helmsman was drunk enough that he didn’t see the rocks in the water. The most obvious hazard in the port was Quilleboeuf Rock, little over one mile from shore, visible from Barfleur at low tide, and the White Ship slammed into it at speed.
The rock impaled the ship, tearing the hull open, and allowing vast quantities of water to rush in. It’s likely the oarsmen, and any crew below deck, were drowned almost immediately. Although darkness obscured the sight of the disaster from the shore, the screams were heard, and it was assumed that the party had reached new heights of debauchery.
William Adelin’s bodyguards at least earned their keep by rushing the prince into the only avenue of escape; a small rowing boat. Unfortunately, as they rowed to safety, William’s sister, Matilda of Perche, screamed after him that he surely couldn’t abandon her in this way. Dutifully, William turned back and it was probably around this time that the ship tipped onto its side, sending the passengers into the sea. By now, William had returned for his sister, who had likely been weighed down by her fine clothes. As William searched, other survivors tried to climb aboard but there were so many of them the tiny boat was swamped. It dissappeared beneath the water, taking everyone, including the prince.
Initially, FitzStephen was among the few who survived by clinging to the rock that had devastated the ship. When he realised the extent of the accident and that William Adelin had been lost, he threw himself back into the sea. Ultimately, everyone aboard was drowned except for one person
The sole survivor, a butcher called Berold, was rescued at dawn by fishermen. The story was circulated and messages were dispatched across the Channel to Henry I, who was becoming increasingly agitated for every moment that passed without sight of the White Ship. Eventually, confirmation of the tragedy arrived and Stephen of Blois’ brother, in mourning for a number of his family members, convinced a boy to deliver the news to the king. Upon hearing of the disaster, Henry collapsed in grief and was said to never smile again.
The Aftermath
The loss of the White Ship devastated Henry I on a number of levels. On a strictly personal level, Henry I was a devoted family man and he had lost a number of his children including his only legitimate son and heir. He had lost members of his extended family and a great number of his closest friends and advisors. This latter point would devastate the country politically. With the sudden death of so many premier nobles, the governance of the country was thrown into chaos. This was especially true in Wales, where, without an Earl of Chester to maintain the border, Welsh rebels were able to launch attacks and take back land.
The loss of England’s heir would seem to be the most pressing issue, but at the time, there was no reason to think that the loss would result in the struggle that followed it. While undoubtedly a blow, Matilda was still married to the Holy Roman Emperor and there was every chance they might have children and an obvious male heir might present himself.
In the meantime, Henry I had been in negotiations to marry Adeliza of Louvain and the loss of the White Ship only hastened their negotiations. The couple were married on the 24 January 1121, less than two months after the disaster. Henry was thirty-five years older than eighteen year old Adeliza, yet the marriage seems to have been one of genuine affection. Adeliza remained by the king’s side and travelled with him to increase the chances of falling pregnant.
The death of the Holy Roman Emperor four years later in 1125 was another blow to Henry’s dynastic ambitions but still all was not lost. Matilda was still a young woman in her early twenties. If Henry and Adeliza failed to have a child together, there was every chance that Matilda could remarry and produce the longed for heir. However, at the close of 1126, with no sign of child by Adeliza and Matilda returned from the continent, Henry I decided to put an end to the question of succession, at least temporarily.
When the nobility gathered for Christmas at Westminster in 1126, Henry had them swear that if he should die without a male heir then the realm would support his legitimate daughter, Matilda. It was an unpopular decision but Henry was hopeful that either he or his daughter would produce an heir, in which case, his cautious decision would prove unecessary.
Dear Reader, it would not.
Coming Soon: Part II featuring the Anarchy with a capital A.
If you’re interested in the story of White Ship’s sole survivor, you can find me behind the scenes at my Patreon.
