Chapter XXX: Appendix: NOTE A. Vol. i. p. 11 (10)

The legend received at Saint Alban’s (Gesta Abbatum, i. 65) seems to have rolled together the dream of the monk at Gloucester and the revelation of William’s death to the abbot of Clugny (see p. 343). Anselm at Clugny has a vision in which many of the saints of England bring their complaints against King William before the tribunal of God. Then the story takes a local turn;

“Iratus Altissimus respondit,――Accede, Anglorum protomartyr.
Et accedente Albano, tradidit Deus sagittam ardentem,
dicens; vindica te, et omnes sanctos Angliæ, læsos a
tyranno. Accipiens autem Albanus sagittam de manu Domini,
projecit eam in terram, quasi faculam, dicens; Accipe,
Satan, potestatem in ipsum Willelmum tyrannum. Et eadem die,
mane, obiit rex transverberatus per medium pectoris sagitta.
Dixit autem arcitenenti, Trahe, diabole. Erat tunc temporis,
episcopo Wolstano defuncto, episcopatus Wygorniæ nimis
afflictus sub manu regis, et multæ aliæ ecclesiæ, sedente
tunc Paschali papa.”

I do not know why the Saint Alban’s writer should have specially mentioned the church of Worcester, which certainly had a Bishop (see vol. i. p. 542) at the time of William’s death. But neither should I at p. 43 of this volume have mentioned Saint Alban’s among the churches vacant at that time. For the four years’ vacancy which followed the death of Paul was ended in 1097 by the election of Richard. “Determinata lite quæ in conventu exorta fuerat inter Normannos, qui jam multiplicati invaluerunt, et Anglos, qui, jam senescentes et imminuti, occubuerant” (Gest. Abb. i. 66). Here is a glimpse of the internal state of the convent which would be most precious if it came from a writer of the year 1097, but which must be taken for what it may be worth in the mouth of Matthew Paris or one whom he followed. This abbot Richard was on good terms with Rufus as well as with his successor (“Willelmi Secundi et Henrici Primi regum, amicitia familiari fultus, multos honores et possessiones adeptus est, et adeptas viriliter tuebatur”). Presently we get a second shorter entry of the Red King’s death;

“Tempore quoque hujus abbatis Ricardi, Willelmus rex――immo
tyrannus――ultione divina, obiit sagittatus.”

The Winchester Annals which really should, just as much as the Hyde writer, have given us something original at such a moment, have nothing more to tell us than that “hoc anno rex a sagitta perforates est in Nova Foresta a Waltero Tirel et sepultus in ecclesia Sancti Swithuni Wintoniæ.” The Margam Annals merely mark that “hoc anno interfectus est rex Angliæ Willelmus junior, rex Rufus vulgo vocatus, non. Augusti, anno regni sui xiii. cum esset annorum plus xl.” This reckoning falls in with what I said in vol. i. p. 141, and N. C. vol. iii. p. 111. Dunstable, which is so strangely dragged into the tale by Giraldus, and Bermondsey, which has some special things to record during the reign, have nothing fresh to tell us, only Dunstable mentions Walter Tirel and Bermondsey does not. Osney and Worcester merely copy the usual story. Thomas Wykes has been quoted already. Roger of Hoveden simply copies Florence. Ralph the Black and Roger of Wendover at least give a little variety by copying the account in William of Malmesbury. It is not till we get to the English and French rimers, Robert of Gloucester and Peter Langtoft, that we come to anything worthy of much notice or anything showing any imagination. Robert of Gloucester tells the story of the dream, attributing it to a monk, but not saying of what monastery. The appearance on the altar loses perhaps somewhat of its awfulness when it is made into the ordinary rood of the church.

“Þat þe kẏng eode into a chẏrche, as fers man and wod,
And wel hokerlẏche bẏ held þe folc þat þere stod.
To þe rode he sturte, and bẏgan to frete and gnawe
Þe armes vaste, and þẏes mẏd hẏs teþ to drawe.
Þe rode ẏt þolede long, ac suþþe atte laste
He pulte hẏm wẏt vot, and adoun vp rẏgt hẏm caste.”

This is surely no improvement on the older version of the story. Robert does not forget the bodily appearances of the devil recorded by Florence, but at his distance of time he does not draw the national distinction which the earlier writer drew;

“Vor þe Deuel was þer byuore þer aboute ẏseẏe
In fourme of bodẏ, and spec al so mẏd men of þe countreẏe.”

He then goes on to tell the story, clearly after William of Malmesbury, but everywhere with touches of his own. They have the interest of being in any case the earliest detailed account, true or false, of the story in our own tongue. Thus the account of the King’s not going to hunt before dinner takes this shape;

“So þat þe kẏng was adrad and bẏleuede vor such cas
To wende er non an honteþ, þe wule he vastyng was.
Ac after mete, þo he adde ẏete and ẏdronke wel,
He nom on of hẏs priues, þat het Water Tẏrel,
And a uewe oþere of hẏs men, and nolde non lenger abẏde,
Þat he nolde to hẏs game, tẏde wat so bẏtẏde.”

The actual account of his death stands thus;

“He prẏkede after vaste ẏnou toward þe West rẏgt.
Hẏs honden he huld byuore hẏs eẏn vor þe sonne lẏgt.
So þat þẏs Water Tẏrel, þat þer bysẏde was neẏ,
Wolde ssete anoþer hert, þat, as he sede, he seẏ.
He sset þe kẏng in atte breste, þat neuer eft he ne speke,
Bote þe ssaft, þat was wẏþoute, grẏslẏch he to brec,
And anowarde hẏs wombe vel adoun, and deẏde without spech,
Wẏþoute ssrẏft and hosel, anon þer was Gode’s wreche.
Þo Water Tẏrel ẏseẏ, þat he was ded, anon
He atornde, as vaste as he mẏgte, þat was hẏs best won.”

Peter of Langtoft (i. 446) has some touches of his own. Among other things, the days of the week have got wrong, in order to bring in a precept as to the proper observance of the weekly fast-day. We also get a purely imaginary Bishop of Winchester;

“Par un Jovedy à vespre le ray ala cocher
En la Nove Forest, où devayt veneyer.
Si tost fu endormy, comença sounger
K’il fust en sa chapele, soul saunz esquyer,
Les us furent fermés k’yl ne pout passer;
Si graunt faym avayt, ke l’estout manger,
Ou mourir de faym, ou tost arager.
Il n’ad payn ne char, ne pessoun de mer;
Il prent et devoure le ymage sur le auter,
La Marye et le fiz, saunz rens là lesser.
Al matyn, kaunt il leve, le eveske fet maunder,
Ode de Wyncestre, et ly va counter
Tut cum ly avynt en sun somoyller.
Le eveske ly dist, ‘Sir rays, Deus est rays saunz per;
Tu l’as coroucez, te covent amender
Par penaunce, et desore plus sovent amer.
Par Vendredy en boys ne devez mes chacer,
Ne à la ryvere of faucoun chuvaucher;
Tel est ta penaunce, et tu le days garder.’
Le eveske ad pris congé, et vait à sun maner;
Après la messe oye, ala le rays juer,
Sa penaunce oblye, fet maunder ly archer,
Walter Tirel i fust, ke set del mister,
Ad sun tristre vayt, la beste va wayter,
Un cerf hors de l’herd comença launcer;
Et ly Frauncays Tyrel se pressayt à seter,
Quide ferir la beste, et fert le rays al quer
Kaunt le eveske l’oyt dire, fist trop mourne cher.
Le cors à, Wyncestre fist le eveske porter,
Et mettre en toumbe al mouster saynt Per.
[Prioms qe sire Dieu pardoun li voile doner.]”

This last line, fittingly according to the belief of William’s own time, is wanting in some manuscripts.

From the writer known as Bromton we might have looked for some new form of the legend, but he gives us (X Scriptt. 996) only the usual story about Walter Tirel, with a rhetorical character of William and an account of his evil doings. One or two expressions however are remarkable;

“In quodam loco ubi priscis temporibus ecclesia fuerat
constructa, et tempore patris sui cum multis aliis
ecclesiis, et quatuor domibus religiosis, et tota illa
patria in solitudinem redacta, vitam crudelem fine miserrimo
terminavit. Jure autem in medio injustitiæ suæ inter feras
occiditur, qui ultra modum inter homines ferus erat. Nam
stabilitis contra malefactores silvarum, forestarum, et
venationis, legibus duris, zelotepia sua agente, custos
boscorum et ferarum pastor communiter vocabatur.”

To Knighton’s curious account I have referred already (see p. 333). But he tells the story twice. His first version (X Scriptt. 2372) contains nothing remarkable; the second (2373) is quite worth notice. He attributes to Rufus the making of the New Forest, which he describes in words which are not, as far as one can see, copied from any of the usual sources. He enforced the forest laws with great harshness, “quod pro dama hominem suspenderet, pro lepore xx._s._ plecteretur, pro cuniculo x._s._ daret.” Then the last scene is brought in with some solemnity; but the age which he assigns to the Red King is quite impossible;

“Igitur, ut ante dictum est, iii. nonarum Augusti, per
Cistrensem [sic] anno gratiæ MC. regni sui xiii. ætatis
liii. venit in novum herbarium suum, scilicet novam
forestam, cum multa familia stipatus, venandi gratia set
sibi gratia dura. Cum arcubus et canibus stetit in loco suo,
et quidam miles sibi nimis familiaris Walterus Tyrel nomine,
prope eum ex opposito loco, ut moris est venantium,
cæterique sparsim unusquisque cum arcu et sagitta in manu
expecteoli [sic] pro præda capienda. Interea accidit miræ
magnitudinis cervum præ cæteris præstantiorem regi
appropinquare, videlicet inter regem et dictum militem, at
rex tetendit arcum volens emittere sagittam, credens se
interficere cervum, set, fracta corda in arcu regis, cervus,
de sonitu quasi attonitus, restitit circumcirca respiciens,
et inde rex aliqualiter motus dixit militi ut cervum
sagittaret. Miles vero se sustinuit. At rex objurganter cum
magno impetu præcepit ei, dicens, ‘Trahe, trahe, arcum ex
parte diaboli, et extendas sagittam, alias te pœnitebit,’ At
ille emisit sagittam, volens interficere cervum, percussit
regem per medium cordis, et occidit eum, ibidemque
expiravit. Walterus evasit, nemine insequente. Rex vero
vehitur apud Wyntoniam super redam caballariam impositus. In
cujus sepultura luctus defuit. Omnes gaudium de ejus morte
arripiunt, adeo quod vix erat quispiam qui lacrimam
emiserit, sed omnes de morte ejus lætati sunt.”

This is well told; but how much more men knew about the matter at the end of the fourteenth century than they did in the last year of the eleventh.

* * * * *

To turn to foreign writers, the Annales Cambriæ say simply that “Willelmus rex Angliæ, a quodam milite suo cervum petente sagitta percussus, interiit”――or, in another manuscript, “Willelmus rex Anglorum, _improviso ictu_ sagittæ a quodam milite in venatu occubuit.” The difference is to be noted. The Brut records the death of William the Red, King of the Saxons (Gẃilim Goch, brenhin y Saeson), and says that “as he was on a certain day hunting, along with Henry, his youngest brother, accompanied by some of his knights, he was wounded with an arrow by Walter Tyrell, a knight of his own, who, unwittingly, as he was shooting at a stag, hit the king and killed him.”

The Annales Blandinienses in Pertz, v. 27, record how “secundus Willelmus rex Anglorum in venatione ab uno milite suo ex improvisu sagitta vulneratus obiit; cui successit Henricus frater suus.” The Saint Denis History (Pertz, ix. 405) has a further touch; “Willelmus Rufus, rex Anglorum, venationi intentus sagitta incaute emissa occiditur. Cui Henricus frater ejus _velocissime successit_, ne impediretur a Roberto fratre suo, jam de Hierosolimitana expeditione reverso.” Another writer in the same volume (ix. 392), Hugh of Fleury, has a remarkable account, quite in the spirit of the English writers, but seemingly not directly copied from any of them;

“Rex Anglorum Guillelmus, magnifici regis Guillelmi
successor et filius, dum venationem exercet in silva quæ
adjacet Vindoniæ urbi, a quodam milite sagitta percussus
interiit. Ille tamen miles qui sagittam jecit illum
inscientem percussit. Cervam quippe sagittare parabat, sed
sagitta retrorsum acta regem insperate percussit, et illum
inopinabiliter interemit. Quod divino nutu contigisse non
dubium est. Erat enim rex ille armis quidem strenuus atque
munificus, sed nimis lasciviens et flagitiosus. Verum
antequam interiret, magnis sibi signis præostensis, si
voluisset, corrigi debuisset. Nam dum sibi subitus, peccatis
suis exigentibus, immineret interitus, in eadem insula in
qua manebat sanguinis unda fœtida per spatium unius diei
emanavit, _ipso præsente_, quod dicebatur ejus portendere
mortem. Ipso etiam tempore apparuerunt alia signa stupenda
in eadem insula, quibus, sicut jam dictum est, terreri et
vitam suam corrigere debuisset. Quæ juventa stolidus et
honore superbus contempsit, et semper incorrigibilis mansit.
Unde Dei justo judicio subite et intempestiva morte
preventus occubuit. Cui successit frater ejus junior
Henricus, vir sapiens atque modestus.”

Hugh of Flavigny, whom we have already had often to quote, adds (Pertz, viii. 495) one detail which I do not think appears elsewhere. The King goes to see the well which sent up blood (the event is wrongly put under 1099);

“Anno inc. dom. 1099 obiit Urbanus papa, successit
Paschalis. Obiit etiam Willelmus junior rex Anglorum. Quo
etiam anno in Anglia fons verum sanguinem olidum et putentem
manare visus est. Ad quod spectaculum cum fere tota insula
cucurrisset, insolita rei novitate stupefacta, rex præfatus
advenit et vidit, nec tamen ei profuit vidisse. Autumabat
vulgus promiscuum portentum istud mortem regis portendere,
quod etiam ei dicebatur a referentibus; sed homo secularis
et in quem timor Dei non ceciderat, voluptatibus carnis et
superbiæ deditus, divinorum præceptorum contemptor et
adversarius, qui tamen satis regii fuisset animi, si non
Deum postposuisset fastu regni inflatus, nec cogitabat se
moriturum.”

He carries on this vein a little further, and then gives the account of his death;

“Quia Deum deseruit, sanctam ecclesiam opprimens et eam sibi
ancillari constituens, a Deo quoque derelictus est; in silva
quæ adjacet Wintoniæ civitati, dum venationem exercet,
sagitta a quodam percussus, quo lethali vulnere decidit et
exanimatus est, pœnitentia et communione carens, et apud
eamdem urbem sepultus.”

The Angevin chroniclers record the death of Rufus without comment or detail. The Biographer of the Bishops of Le Mans (Vet. An. 309), who looks at the matter chiefly with reference to Bishop Hildebert, moralizes at some length; but his statement of fact is no more than this;

“Dum quadam die in silvam venandi gratia perrexisset, ab uno
ex militibus qui secum ierant sagitta percussus, interiit.”

This is really hardly more than the few words of the English Chronicler. Alberic of Trois Fontaines, from whom we might have looked for something, merely copies William of Malmesbury and others. Gervase of Tilbury (ii. 20, Leibnitz, i. 945) mentions another agent in the death-blow;

“Defuncto patre successit Guillelmus _primogenius_ in
regnum, vir impius, ecclesiarum persecutor, immisericors
circa imbelles, qui archiepiscopum Cantuariensem plurimum
persecutus, _ab angelo percutiente peremtus_, Guintoniæ
sepultus est, sub infamiæ perpetuo monumento.”

* * * * *

As for Walter Tirel, he has his place in ordinary memory so thoroughly as the slayer of William Rufus and as nothing else, that it is rather hard to take in that his position as the slayer of William Rufus is very doubtful, while there are undoubted, though meagre, notices of him in other characters. We have already seen him entertaining Anselm in one of his Picard dwellings. The fullest account of his family comes from Orderic, who, when he is commenting on the laxity of the Norman clergy and bishops in his time, gives us the story of Walter’s father (574 D). Dean Fulk was a pupil of Bishop Ivo of Chartres, and inherited a knight’s fee from his father. Then we read how “illius temporis ritu, nobilem sociam nomine Orieldem habuit, ex qua copiosam prolem generavit.” Walter was one of a family of ten, seemingly the youngest of eight sons. He was “cognomento Tirellus,” clearly a personal and not a hereditary or local surname.

If the Dean of Evreux kept proper residence, his son would be Norman _natione_, whatever he was _genere_; but most accounts of Walter connect him with France rather than with Normandy. Abbot Suger, who knew him personally, speaks of him (Duchèsne, iv. 283 C) as “nobilissimus vir Galterius Tirellus.” In Florence (1100) he is simply “quidam Francus, Walterus cognomento Tirellus.” William of Malmesbury (iv. 333) says that, on the day of the King’s death, he was “paucis comitatus, quorum familiarissimus erat Walterius cognomento Tirel, qui de Francia, liberalitate regis adductus, venerat.” His possession of Poix appears from Orderic, 782 A, where he is described as “de Francia miles generosus, Picis et Pontisariæ dives oppidanus, potens inter optimates et in armis acerrimus; ideo regi familiaris conviva et ubique comes assiduus.” Walter Map (De Nugis Cur. 222) calls him “miles Achaza juxta Pontissaram Franciæ,” which I suppose means Achères. (But in Orderic, 723 B, we have another Walter and also a Peter brought into connexion with Achères.) Walter’s connexion with that district suggests that the King had bought him over to his side, or had taken him prisoner during the campaign in the Vexin. Geoffrey Gaimar (Chron. Anglo-Norm. i. 51) dwells on his possession of Poix;

“Wauter estoit un riches hom,
De France ert per del région.
Piez estoit soen un fort chastel,
Assez avoir de son avel.
Au roi estoit venu servir
Douns et soudées recoverir,
Per grant cherté ert recuilliz,
Assez ert bien del roi chériz.
_Pur ceo q’estranges homs estoit,
Le gentil roi le chérissoit._”

His marriage comes from Orderic (783 A); “Adelidam filiam Ricardi de sublimi prosapia Gifardorum conjugem habuit, quæ Hugonem de Pice, strenuissimum militem, marito suo peperit.”

The question now comes whether Walter Tirel appears in Domesday. There is in Essex (41) an entry, “Laingaham tenet Walterus Tirelde. R. quod tenuit Phin dacus pro ii. hidis et dimidia et pro uno manerio.” This comes among the estates of Richard of Clare, and I suppose that “R.” in the entry should be “de R.” as in several others. If this be our Walter Tirel, his estate was not very great, and he did not hold as a tenant-in-chief. One cannot make much out of the extract from an East-Saxon county history in Ellis, ii. 394. Lappenberg (ii. 207) has more to say about this entry and other bearers of the name of Tirel. It cannot much matter that “der Name Tirrel ist in der Liste der Krieger zu Battle Abbey.” It is of more importance when he refers to the Pipe Roll of Henry (56), where we read, “Adeliz uxor Walteri Tirelli reddit compotum de x. marcis argenti de eisdem placitis de La Wingeham.” This comes in Essex, and I suppose that the “Laingaham” of Domesday and the “La Wingeham” of the Pipe Roll are the same place. If so, the two entries, combined with the notice in Orderic, look very much as if they all belong to one Walter and one Adelaide. If this be so, Walter Tirel was a landowner in England, though on no great scale; and whatever was his own case, his wife or widow was living and holding his land in 1131.

Walter’s denial of any share in the King’s death comes from the personal knowledge of Abbot Suger (Duchèsne, iv. 283); “Imponebatur a quibusdam cuidam nobilissimo viro Galterio Tirello, quod eum sagitta perfoderat. Quem cum nec timeret, nec speraret, jurejurando sæpius audivimus, et quasi sacrosanctum asserere, quod ea die nec in eam partem silvæ in qua rex venabatur, venerit, nec eum in silva omnino viderit.”

John of Salisbury in his Life of Anselm, c. xii (Giles, v. 341), refers to this denial on the part of Walter. He speaks of the fate of Julian, likening Anselm to Basil, and goes on; “Quis alterutrum miserit telum, adhuc incertum est quidem. Nam Walterus Tyrrellus ille, qui regiæ necis reus a plurimis dictus est, eo quod illi familiaris erat et tunc in indagine ferarum vicinus, et fere singulariter adhærebat, etiam quum ageret in extremis, se a cæde illius immunem esse, invocato in animam suam Dei judicio, protestatus est. Fuerunt plurimi, _qui ipsum regem jaculum quo interemptus est misisse asserunt_; et hoc Walterus ille, etsi non crederetur ei, constanter asserebat.” He adds a comment which might be taken in two senses; “Et profecto quisquis hoc fecerit, Dei ecclesiæ suæ calamitatibus compatientis dispositioni fideliter obedivit.”

The very confused story which makes William Rufus the maker of the New Forest, and Walter Tirel the adviser of the deed, comes from Walter Map’s account (De Nugis, 222) of the death of William Rufus, where a good many things are brought close together; “Willielmus secundus, rex Angliæ, regum pessimus, Anselmo pulso a sede Cantiæ, justo Dei judicio a sagitta volante pulsus, quia dæmonio meridiano deditus, cujus ad nutum vixerat, onere pessimo levavit orbem. Notandum autem quod _in silva Novæ Forestæ_ [cf. N. C. vol. iv. p. 841], quam ipse Deo et hominibus abstulerat, ut eam dicaret feris et canum lusibus, a qua triginta sex matrices ecclesias extirpaverat, et populum earum dederat _exterminio_. Consiliarius autem hujus ineptiæ Walterus Tyrell, miles Achaza juxta Pontissaram Franciæ, qui, non sponte sua sed Domini, de medio fecit eum ictu sagittæ, quæ feram penetrans cecidit in belluam Deo odibilem.” “Exterminium” must of course be taken, not of a massacre, but of a mere driving out. Giraldus too (De Inst. Princ. 173) attributes the making of the New Forest and the driving out of the people to William Rufus;

“Hic Novam in australibus Angliæ partibus Forestam, quæ
usque hodie durat, primus instituit; multis ibidem
ecclesiis, in quibus divina ab antiquo celebrari obsequia et
ipsius præconia sublimari, desertis omnino et destitutis
multisque ruricolis et glebæ ascriptis a paternis laribus et
agris avitis miserabiliter profugatis et proscriptis.”

We have seen already (see p. 337) how this confusion was further improved in the thirteenth century at the hands of Thomas Wykes, and what rhetorical use of it was made later still by Henry Knighton.

* * * * *

As usual, so-called local tradition knows a vast deal about the matter. The exact place where Rufus fell is known, and is marked by a stone. The tree from which, in some versions, the arrow is said to have glanced, is also known, and its site, or a successor, may be seen. It is of course impossible to say that these things are not so; but one knows too much of the utter worthlessness of the modern guesses which commonly pass for local tradition to attach much value to such stories. I have been on the spot; but, when there is no real evidence to fix the event to one spot rather than another of a large district, it is another matter from tracing out the signs of real history at Le Mans and at Rochester, at Bamburgh and at Saint Cenery. There is also a wild story about a payment made by some neighbouring manor as a penalty, because some one shod Walter’s horse instead of stopping him. The payment is doubtless real enough; the alleged cause for it shows a knowledge of details beyond that of Knighton or Geoffrey Gaimar. The critical historian, after making his way through all these tales, can only come back to the safe statement of the English Chronicler with which he set out.