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As the sun went down the bloody struggle was coming to a gory close. A thick mist was beginning to roll across the French field as if nature herself was trying to hide the horror. Blood soaked the ground; the bodies of dead men lay everywhere; horses were threshing about in pain, battering with their hooves the wounded and dying who were laying around them. The cries and groans of those still alive rent the night air. One young man, hardly out of his teens, moaned for his mother. Another man, older but still short of middle age, cried out for his wife and children. Others, too weak from loss of blood to do anything but lie in silence, waited for the relief that death would bring them. Was this the gory end of a battle between a French army and an invader - the aftermath of the battle at Tinchebrai when Henry I of England defeated Robert, the eldest son of William the Conquerer? No. Neither was it Chaluz, where Richard I met his death. This was the year 1180 and the town near which the field lay was Lagny-sur-Marne, not far from Paris. There had, indeed, been a clash of arms, but men had not died or suffered severe wounds for a patriotic cause, nor in defence of their homeland, nor to overcome an enemy for the honour of their monarch. It had all happened in the name of sport. Lagny-sur-Marne had staged a tournament - the most lavishly spectacular entertainment the Middle Ages had to offer. Over 3,000 armed and mounted knights had lined up and charged at each other that day. Had you been there, according to a contemporary report, "you would have heard such a crash of lances that the earth was strewn with fragments. Great was the tumult upon the field." It was a tournament à l'outrance (literally, "to the bitter end," or, as we might say, a fight "with no holds barred"). All the Popes were against events such as this. One after another they spoke out against such "execrable and accursed" diversions. Church spokesmen condemned the tournament, not just because of the carnage involved, but because the many fine knights who were needlessly maimed or even killed were wanted to fight in the Crusades. They also condemned the debauchery surrounding the main event. Eventually the Church threatened participants with excommunication and even went so far as to refuse Christian burial to knights who fell in tournaments. Such threats were of no avail. The attraction of taking part in tournaments between two "teams" of fighters, each side consisting of a great number of knights often organized and led by the wealthy heirs of the great barons, was too strong. Besides, these bloodthirsty games provided vital training for the real business of war. "A knight cannot shine in war if he has not prepared for it in tournaments," declared one chronicler of the time. "He must have seen his own blood flow, have had his teeth crackle under the blow of an adversary." And taking part in large-scale games was one of the few ways for a youngster to make a name for himself. He could begin his career by becoming the squire to a knight-at-arms, earning his living by grooming horses, caring for armour and weapons, and accompanying his master to tournaments and wars. Practice bouts between such apprentices were often a part of the tournaments. Having served in this way and learned his trade, the squire might graduate to knight-errant - the name given to mercenaries who travelled from tournament to tournament, offering their skills and valour to any side willing to take him, in pursuit of fame and fortune. Tournaments were originally a French idea, and, by the 11th. century, were an established part of life. The sport soon caught on elsewhere, and in England it became fashionable to celebrate social occasions like marriages, coronations, and feast days with a grand tournament. Most of these events were local affairs with local men, but occasionally international events which involved knights from many different countries, were held. The stakes could be very high. Losers might be lucky and lose no more than their horse and armour, but the families of those taken prisoner could expect a heavy ransom demand. Once the challenge had been issued, and the time and place for a match were agreed, preparations went ahead in an atmosphere of mounting excitement. Heralds galloped from castle to castle, from town to town, proclaiming the event. Crowds converged in their thousands upon the appointed place. Stands erected for ladies and other privileged spectators were bedecked with pennants and tapestries (though once the contest was under way, the participants were sometimes lost to view, pursuing one another for miles over open country). The arrival in the field of the contestants was the occasion for fanfares and the unfurling of more heraldic flags and banners. Ladies often led their favoured knights into the "lists" - the field of contest - by a gold or silver chain, bestowing upon them a personal token, such as a handkerchief or ring, before retiring to the safety of the stands. With much noise and animation the two opposing lines of fighters would, at last, form up, each man on horseback and armed with the customary lance and sword and shield, which they would have to resort to if unhorsed. At a given signal from the organizer of the event, the fighters charged. There were rules of fair play, of course, as laid down by the Code of Chivalry (blows could not be delivered too high or too low, for example) but once the charge had developed into what was called a mêlée, with large numbers of knights milling around, some still on horseback, others unseated and struggling on the ground, it was almost impossible to control events. That was when the real damage was done - knights crushed beneath horses' hooves, trapped and suffocated within badly battered helmets, arms half severed by blind swings from broadswords. Sportsmanship could soon turn to blood lust in the mêlée. The fight would continue until the signal to cease was given or until one party was completely defeated. The wounded were then taken home and cared for, hopefully living to fight in another tournament another day. By the end of the 14th. century the character of tournaments had changed. Knights encased in heavy, shining armour, with shields emblazoned with their coats of arms and plumes atop their helmets, trotted ponderously around engaging in single combat. Jousting or tilting (slightly different but similar forms of combat) between only two men became the favourite sport and rivalled the team tournament in popularity. It could be an exciting spectacle, but it rarely led to anything worse than a knight having the wind knocked out of him if he was unhorsed. Old warriors were often scornful of the new style; they looked back nostalgically to the days of their fathers, when a mass tournament effectively prepared a man for battle. As one chronicler, commenting on the results of those headlong charges and desperate mêlées, put it: "Then will the knight be able to confront actual war with the hope of being victorious." He might have added, "If he lives that long!" Bill Hutchings |
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page last updated 1 JULY 2001 |
