Stewart Binns - Anarchy

I was witness to these punishments and found the proceedings repugnant. I was not opposed to violence if it was the result of a fair fight – or in pursuit of a just cause – but the almost indiscriminate use of force against those unable to resist was simply an act of cruelty. Nevertheless, the brutality and bribery worked and the King prevailed.

Owain had been told to rendezvous with Henry’s army at Abergavenny to celebrate the success of the expedition. Owain duly arrived with only his personal retinue of about a dozen men, vastly outnumbered by our force. The King had already departed for Winchester, leaving Olaf in charge of three squadrons of his elite cavalry, about seventy-five men.

Olaf greeted Owain ap Cadwgan when he arrived at Abergavenny.

‘Prince Owain. I am Olaf Godredsson, Prince of the Isles and Mann.’

Cadwgan realized that all was not what it should be, and he was ill at ease.

‘Prince Olaf, it is an honour to meet you. I know your father, we met on Anglesey Isle many years ago. I thought I was to meet King Henry?’

‘I’m afraid the King has had to return to Winchester. Affairs of the realm… you understand.’

‘Of course.’ Owain was looking around agitatedly. ‘But what of our celebration and the new arrangement we were going to –?’

Prince Olaf interrupted him before he could finish.

‘Owain ap Cadwgan, Prince of Powys, you are under arrest. Your men may go, but you are now a prisoner of King Henry, held under his authority by Gerald FitzWalter, Constable of Pembroke.’

Owain did not recognize Gerald’s Norman name, nor his new title as Constable of Pembroke. But as soon as the new constable rode forward, he saw that his captor was Gerald of Windsor, Nest’s wronged husband. As Owain’s men began to melt away, Gerald of Windsor issued his orders. He did so calmly and without apparent menace, disguising years of seething hatred.

The Welsh Prince, now alone and defenceless, was stripped of his weapons, armour and clothes before being hoisted on to a pair of crossed timbers usually used for floggings. In his case, his torso faced forwards – the opposite way to that used in a whipping. A large fire was lit nearby while he was bound tightly at the ankles, wrists, neck and forehead. He was asked if he had anything to say, to which he responded by shaking his head as much as his bindings would allow. Then he set his jaw to face what was to come.

Gerald of Windsor nodded to the executioners before issuing his proclamation.

‘For the heinous crimes you have committed against the people of your own land and against the people of England, you are to be executed so that you can face the judgement of God to atone for your sins.’

One of the executioners then cupped Owain’s chin firmly in the palm of his hand and, without a moment’s hesitation, took out one of his eyes with the sharp point of his seax. Gerald, now less in control of his emotions, spat in Owain’s face and hissed at his prisoner.

‘We will let you keep one eye for now, so that you can see what we are going to do next.’

Owain, screaming in pain, blood trickling down his face from an empty eye socket, shouted back at his tormentor.

‘Yes, and so that I can still see your wife writhing beneath me. She hated me at first, but soon couldn’t get enough of it!’

Enraged by that, Gerald took his seax and thrust it through Owain’s cheek until it exited on the other side.

‘Do you have anything more to say, you filthy pig?’

Owain tried to speak, but it was impossible. Blood was filling his mouth and cascading down his chest. The executioners then tied lead weights to their victim’s testicles before, like a slaughterer preparing sweetbreads, slicing them off with a slow and deliberate sawing motion. They then did the same to his manhood, before throwing his excised genitals on to the fire.

I had to look away, as did many around me.

Gerald then leaned forward and slowly pulled his seax from Owain’s face. The man was still conscious but was now convulsing in pain, hardly able to focus on his captor just inches from his face.

‘This is for Nest, the Helen of Wales.’

With that, Gerald thrust his seax deep into Owain’s remaining eye and continued to thrust until it met the wooden post behind the back of his head. Owain’s ordeal was over but, as a final indignity, his body was cut down, covered in goose grease and cast on to the fire, where it roared and crackled as it was immolated by the flames.

It was a gruesome end. What beasts we are to one another.

Our journey back to England was a sombre occasion. Olaf was helpful to me as I came to terms with what I had seen.

‘It is a kind of justice. Not, I grant you, what Christ teaches, but cruel punishments are as old as history. My great-grandfather was the first in my family to convert to Christianity, but he only did so because he had to make an alliance with the English. He would have had no hesitation in killing a man or having him maimed. Not much has changed today. If kings didn’t act firmly, there would be anarchy.’

I hesitated, knowing that my family had always believed there was another way.

‘I know, my Lord, but I wish it could be different.’

After the expedition to Wales, I realized that there was much I had to learn about the world and myself. I still had some way to go before winning my knight’s pennon, but I was not happy at continuing to serve under our Norman masters. So, I decided that just as both my parents and grandparents had undertaken great journeys in search of their destinies, I should venture to the counties of the Christian princes in the Holy Land to find what fate would make of me. After much debate and still with reluctance, my mother eventually succumbed to my pleadings, but at a price I found hard to accept.

‘You may not go before your eighteenth birthday.’

‘But that’s almost two years away – an eternity for someone of my age.’

‘You’ll just have to bear it.’

She was blunt and to the point. The terms of her hard-struck bargain continued.

‘In the meantime, you will return to Hugh Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, to train with his men. He’ll toughen you up – he’s a hard taskmaster.’

And thus, just over eighteen months later, with my side of the bargain completed, I was ready to embark on my own personal crusade to the Holy Land. My training with the Earl’s men had indeed toughened me up, and I had made full use of the intervening months to find a local sweetheart. In fact, I had found several and felt that my education in the art of love was as complete as my schooling in the art of war.

I was soon to be proved wrong in both respects.

I had been born blessed with much good fortune. Not only had I been born into an illustrious family, I had also been left a significant sum of money. The Emperor Alexius had endowed me with ten gold Byzantine bezants to celebrate my birth and Edgar the Atheling had left me some carucates of land, sufficient to provide a good annual income. All in all, I was a man of some substance. I was able to recruit for my expedition a sergeant-at-arms, two men-at-arms and a groom. All were good men, vetted by my mother as entirely trustworthy and each sworn to keep me safe.

Eadmer was my sergeant: a man in his thirties, a local lad from Norwich, fair-haired, broad and strong of arm. He had served in the Earl of Norfolk’s retinue all his life, was an excellent all-round soldier, honest and loyal, and had fought with the Earl on several campaigns against the marauding Scots and on the Marches against the Welsh princes.

His two men were Toste and Wulfric, brothers from Lincoln, men from my ancestral county and very much in Eadmer’s image and trained by him. Both were short, lean and had the look of a dark Celt about them – the result, they said, of a maternal grandparent from the wilds of Cumbria. They too were experienced soldiers in the service of the Earl.