Death of King William II

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 2nd August 1100. And thereafter on the morning after Lammas day was the King William (age 44) shot in hunting, by an arrow from his own men, and afterwards brought to Winchester, Hampshire [Map], and buried in the cathedral.¹³⁰ This was in the thirteenth year after that he assumed the government. He was very harsh and severe over his land and his men, and with all his neighbours; and very formidable; and through the counsels of evil men, that to him were always agreeable, and through his own avarice, he was ever tiring this nation with an army, and with unjust contributions. For in his days all right fell to the ground, and every wrong rose up before God and before the world. God's church he humbled; and all the bishoprics and abbacies, whose elders fell in his days, he either sold in fee, or held in his own hands, and let for a certain sum; because he would be the heir of every man, both of the clergy and laity; so that on the day that he fell he had in his own hand the archbishopric of Canterbury, with the bishopric of Winchester, and that of Salisbury, and eleven abbacies, all let for a sum; and (though I may be tedious) all that was loathsome to God and righteous men, all that was customary in this land in his time. And for this he was loathed by nearly all his people, and odious to God, as his end testified:-for he departed in the midst of his unrighteousness, without any power of repentance or recompense for his deeds. On the Thursday he was slain; and in the morning afterwards buried; and after he was buried, the statesmen that were then nigh at hand, chose his brother Henry (age 32) to king. And he immediately¹³¹ gave the bishopric of Winchester to William Giffard; and afterwards went to London; and on the Sunday following, before the altar at Westminster, he promised God and all the people, to annul all the unrighteous acts that took place in his brother's time, and to maintain the best laws that were valid in any king's day before him.

Note 130. His monument is still to be seen there, a plain gravestone of black marble, of the common shape called "dos d'ane"; such as are now frequently seen, though of inferior materials, in the churchyards of villages; and are only one remove from the grassy sod.

Note 131. i.e. before he left Winchester for London; literally "there-right"-an expression still used in many parts of England. Neither does the word "directly", which in its turn has almost become too vulgar to be used, nor its substitute, "immediately", which has nearly superseded it, appear to answer the purpose so well as the Saxon, which is equally expressive with the French "sur le champ".

Chronicle of William of Malmesbury Book 8 Chapter 6. 2nd August 1100. After dinner he went into the forest, attended by few persons; of whom the most intimate with him was Walter, surnamed Tirel, who had been induced to come from France by the liberality of the king. This man alone had remained with him, while the others, employed in the chase, were dispersed as chance directed. The sun was now declining, when the king, drawing his bow and letting fly an arrow, slightly wounded a stag which passed before him; and, keenly gazing, followed it, still running, a long time with his eyes, holding up his hand to keep off the power of the sun's rays. At this instant Walter, conceiving a noble exploit, which was while the king's attention was otherwise occupied to transfix another stag which by chance came near him, unknowingly, and without power to prevent it. Oh, gracious God! pierced his breast with a fatal arrow.¹ On receiving the wound, the king uttered not a word; but breaking off the shaft of the weapon where it projected from his body, fell upon the wound, by which he accelerated his death. Walter immediately ran up, but as he found him senseless and speechless, he leaped swiftly upon his horse, and escaped by spurring him to his utmost speed. Indeed there was none to pursue him: some connived at his flight; others pitied him; and all were intent on other matters. Some began to fortify their dwellings; others to plunder; and the rest to look out for a new king. A few countrymen conveyed the body, placed on a cart, to the cathedral at Winchester; the blood dripping from it all the way. Here it was committed to the ground within the tower, attended by many of the nobility, though lamented by few.

Note 1. "The tradition of William having met his death by the hand of Sir Walter Tirel, whilst hunting in the New Forest, is generally received; but Suger [See The Deeds of Louis le Gros by Suger], a contemporary historian, and, as it seems, a friend of Tirel, in his Life of Louis le Gros, king of France, alluding to the death of Rufus, observes, "It was alleged by some that a certain nobleman, Walter Tirel, had pierced him with an arrow: whom, as he neither feared nor hoped, we have often heard solemnly swear, almost as if it were sacrosanct, that on that day he neither came to that part of the forest where the king was hunting, nor did he see him in the forest at all.². See also Edmer, Historia Novorum. p. 54, and Ord. Vit., History Ecclesiastical, lib. x. p. 783."— Hardy.

Note 2. "Imponebatur a quibusdam cuidam nobili Gualtero Tirello quod eum sagitta perfoderat: quem, cum nec timeret nec speraret, jurejurando sæpius audivimus quasi sacrosanctum asserere, quod ea die nec in eam partem silvæ, in qua rex venebatur, venerit, nec eum in silva omnino viderit."

Historia Novorum by Eadmer. 2nd August 1100. For he did not believe that the Apostolic See could have any jurisdiction in his kingdom unless it was permitted by him. How he behaved thereafter, it is not fitting to write here while hastening on to other matters. Nevertheless, he was not allowed to enjoy for long the liberty he so proudly claimed to have attained. For before a year had passed, he was struck down by an unexpected and sudden death and lost it. October heard him boast; the second day of the following August saw him breathe his last. Indeed, on that morning he had eaten and gone into the forest to hunt, and there, pierced in the heart by an arrow, he died instantly, unrepentant and unconfessed, and was immediately abandoned by all. Whether the arrow, thrown, as some say, struck him, or whether, as more affirm, he stumbled and fell upon it, we think it idle to investigate; it is enough to know that he was struck down and killed by the just judgment of God.

Here comes to mind what this king once said to the Bishop of Rochester, as we previously reported, namely, that God would never have him as a good man, in return for the harm God did to him. And I consider what God later did to him during the rest of his life. For it is known that from the time he uttered those words, having recovered from the illness with which he was grievously afflicted, he was so successful in defeating and subduing enemies, acquiring lands, and indulging his pleasures, that you would have thought all things smiled upon him. Even the wind and the sea themselves seemed to obey him. I speak the truth, and do not lie: whenever he wished to cross from England to Normandy or to return swiftly according to his will, the sea, though it often raged savagely, immediately calmed at his approach, and served him with marvelous tranquility during the crossing. What more? I confess, he was so fortunate in all things that it is as if God answered his blasphemous words in this way: "If, as you say, I shall never have you as a good man because of some evil I inflict upon you, then let Me see whether, at least by doing you good, I might make you good. Therefore, I will fulfill your will in everything that you consider good." But what came of it? He prospered so much through his successes that, as those who were constantly present with him attest, he never got up from his bed nor laid himself down in it without being worse than he was before. Therefore, since he would not be corrected by misfortune nor drawn to good by prosperity, lest he in his prolonged madness should continue to bring ruin upon the good, the just Judge swiftly removed him from this life by a sudden death.

Nec enim putabat apostolicum orbis posse in regno suo esse cujuslibet juris, nisi permissus a se. Qualiter ergo deinceps sese habuerit, ad alia festinanti scribere opportunum non est. Attamen libertate qua se potitum gloriatus est non diu frui permissus est. Prius enim quam annus transiit insperata et subita morte percussus earn perdidit. October namque audivit eum gloriantem, secunda dies sequentis Augusti vidit eum expirantem. Siquidem ilia die mane pransus in silvam venatum ivit, ibique sagitta in corde percussus, impœnitens et inconfessus e vestigio mortuus est, et ab omni homine mox derelictus. Quæ sagitta utrum, sicut quidam aiunt, jacta ipsum percusserit, an, quod plures affirmant, ilium pedibus offendentem superque ruentem occiderit, disquirere otiosum putamus; cum scire sufficiat eum justo judicio Dei prostratum atque necatum.

Hic occurrit animo quid rex iste quondam, ut supra retulimus, Rofensi episcopo dixerit, videlicet quod Deus nunquam eum bonum habiturus esset pro malo quod sibi inferret; et perpendo quid postmodum Deus erga illum egerit donec vite presenti superfuit. Scitur enim quia ex quo illa verba, depulso languore quo notum est illum fuisse gravatum, protulit, tantum in deprimendo et subju- gando inimicos, in adquirendo terras, in exercendo voluptates suas prosperatus est, ut omnia sibi arridere putares. Ventus insuper et ipsum mare videbantur ei obtemperare. Verum dico non mentior, quia cum de Anglia in Normanniam transire, vel inde cursim prout ipsum voluntas sua ferebat redire, volebat, mox illo mari appropinquante omnis tempestas quæ nonnunquam immane sæviebat sedabatur, et transeunti mira tranquillitate famulabatur. Quid amplius? Ita, fateor, in cunctis erat fortunatus, ac si verbis ejus hoc modo responderit Deus, "Si te pro malo, ut dicis, nunquam bonum habebo, probabo an saltem pro bono possim te bonum habere, et ideo in omni quod tu bonum æstimas velle tuum adimplebo." Sed quid? In tantum ex successibus suis profecit, ut, sicut ii qui factis illius die noctuque præsentes extiterunt attestantur, nunquam vel de lecto surgeret vel in lecto se collocaret, quin se ipso aut collocante aut surgente semper deterior esset. Quapropter dum nec malo corrigi voluit nec bono ad bene agendum attrahi potuit, ne in perniciem bonorum diutino furore saviret, compendiosa illum sequus Arbiter et momentanea cæde huic vitæ subtraxit.

The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy by Orderic Vitalis. 2nd August 1100. The morning¹ of the day following, King William, having dined with his minions, prepared, after the meal was ended, to go forth and hunt in the New Forest. Being in great spirits he was joking with his attendants while his boots were being laced, when an armourer came and presented to him six arrows. The king immediately took them with great satisfaction, praising the work, and unconscious of what was to happen, kept four of them himself and held out the other two to Walter Tirel.² "It is but right," he said, "that the sharpest arrows should be given to him who knows best how to inflict mortal wounds with them." This Tirel was a French knight of good extraction, the wealthy lord of the castles of Poix and Pontoise, filling a high place among the nobles, and a gallant soldier; he was therefore admitted to familiar intimacy with the king, and became his constant companion. Meanwhile, while they were idly talking on various subjects, and the king's household attendants were assembled about him, a monk of Gloucester presented himself and delivered to the king a letter from his abbot. Having read it, the king burst out laughing, and said merrily to the knight just mentioned, "Walter, do what I told you." The knight replied, "I will, my lord." Slighting then the warnings of the elders, and forgetting that the heart is lifted up before a fall, he said respecting the letter he had received, "I wonder what has induced my lord Serlo to write to me in this strain, for I really believe he is a worthy abbot and respectable old man. In the simplicity of his heart, he transmits to me, who have enough besides to attend to, the dreams of his snoring monks, and even takes the trouble to commit them to writing, and send them a long distance. Does he think that I follow the example of the English, who will defer their journey or their business on account of the dreams of a parcel of wheezing old women?"

Thus speaking, he hastily rose, and mounting his horse, rode at full speed to the forest. His brother, Count Henry, with William de Breteuil³ and other distinguished persons followed him, and, having penetrated into the woods, the hunters dispersed themselves in various directions according to custom. The king and Walter de Poix posted themselves with a few others in one part of the forest, and stood with their weapons in their hands eagerly watching for the coming of the game, when a stag suddenly running between them, the king quitted his station, and Walter⁴ shot an arrow. It grazed the beast's grizzly back, but glancing from it, mortally wounded the king who stood within its range. He immediately fell to the ground, and alas! suddenly expired³. The death of one man caused the greatest confusion among numbers, and the wood echoed with fearful shouts occasioned by the death of their prince. Prince Henry lost no time in riding as fast as his horse could carry him to Winchester, where the royal treasure was kept, and imperiously demanded the keys from the keepers, as the lawful heir. William de Breteuil arrived at the same instant with breathless haste, for he anticipated Henry's deep policy and resolved to oppose it. "We ought," he said, "to have a loyal regard for the fealty we have sworn to your brother Robert. He is, undoubtedly, the eldest son of King William, and both I and you, my lord Henry, have paid him homage⁴. Therefore we ought to keep our engagements to him in all respects, whether he be absent or present. He has long laboured in God's service, and the Lord now restores him, without a contest, the duchy which he relinquished for the love of heaven, as well as his father's crown. There was now a sharp contention between them, and crowds flocked round them from all quarters; but the influence of an heir present in person to claim his rights began to prevail. Henry hastily seizing his sword drew it out of the scabbard, declaring that no foreigner should on frivolous pretences lay hands on his father's sceptre.

Note 1. Malmesbury, whom we have just quoted, tells us that the king did not go out to hunt till after dinner, but that was an early meal in those days.

Note 2. Walter Tirel, lord of Poix (Somme), and keeper of the castle of Pontoise.

Note 3. William de Breteuil, son of William FitzOsberne.

Note 4. Walter Tirel, the third of that name. He must have undertaken the pilgrimage to the Holy Land in which he died after he founded the abbey of Selincourt in 1134. He also founded the priory of St. Denys at Poix. He lived in the Vexin in 1091, at which time he appears as witness in a charter of King Philip I., being a donation of the abbey of St. Melon at Pontoise to the archbishop of Rouen. We must not be surprised to find him sometimes at Pontoise and at others in Picardy, as the counts of Amiens were both counts of Pontoise and the French Vexin.

Richard Giffard, his wife's father, was probably brother of Walter Giffard, earl of Buckingham.

Hugh Tirrel, son of Walter III. and Anne, went also to the Holy Land in 1146.

Note 3. Malmesbury informs us that on receiving the wound the king uttered not a word, but breaking off the shaft of the arrow where it projected from his body, fell upon the wound by which he accelerated his death. The sun was declining, and the king, at the time he was shot, was holding up his hand to screen his eyes from the sun's rays athwart the glades of the forest, while he was keenly gazing at a stag which he had just slightly wounded.

Note 4. Our author, so far from applauding the loyalty of William de Breteuil, already exhibits his great partiality for Henry I. Robert Curthose was odious to the clergy not only on account of his licentious conduct, but because he afforded them no protection against the rapacity of the barons.