The dancing pope

Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Courtrai in 1302, in which Flemish urban militia inflicted a shattering defeat on the cream of French chivalry (curdled cheese by the end of it). This wasn't the first time an army of infantry had defeated mounted knights - witness Stirling Bridge in 1297, for instance - but it was still an utterly shocking turn of events. This post will examine the profound consequences of the battle from an English point of view. 

The situation Edward I found himself in at the start of 1302 is best described as deadlock. He was at war in Scotland and stuck in an unresolvable situation on the Continent, where his war against Philip IV had petered out into a series of annually renewed truces.  Edward's troops had managed to recover a portion of his duchy of Aquitaine, invaded by the French in 1294, but subsequent negotiations had gone around in circles. The pope, Boniface VIII, asked both parties to submit their parts of Aquitaine to his custody, so he could arbitrate between the two kings. Edward was willing to hand over his share, but Philip absolutely refused to do likewise. This was probably because the French king was perfectly aware that his invasion of Aquitaine was illegal, and that Boniface would find in Edward's favour.

In Scotland the situation was equally messy. The English had made some military gains in the south-west in the summer of 1301, but Edward's desire for a final resolution was scuppered by the usual lack of money and supplies. He decided to spend the winter in Scotland, probably to protect his gains which would otherwise have fallen back into Scottish hands. The problems of supply and desertion became acute, and in January 1301 Edward was obliged to agree to a truce with the Scots. This gave him time to resupply his existing garrisons in Scotland, and in that context was a blessing in disguise. There is no doubt, however, that Edward only agreed to the truce because he had little alternative. The king himself made no bones about it, and expressed his fear that the exiled king of Scots, John Balliol, would soon return with a French army at his back:

"It is feared that the kingdom of Scotland may be removed from out of the king's hands (which God forbid!) and handed over to Sir John Balliol or his son..."

The truce of Asnieres, negotiated in France, has been overshadowed by the game-changing Flemish victory at Courtrai. In January 1302 Edward agreed to hand over all the lands and castles he had taken in Galloway (south-west Scotland) to the custody of French officials. They would hold them for the duration of the truce, to expire on 1 November, when the French were supposed to hand them back. 

There are several odd clauses about this treaty. Edward had been burnt once before like this, when he agreed to hand over key towns and castles in Aquitaine to Philip's officers in 1294. The French were supposed to hand them back after a grace period of forty days, but instead Philip broke his word and declared Aquitaine forfeit. Now he was trying the same trick in Scotland.

Edward had no intention of being burnt twice. Between August 1301 and February 1302, even as his diplomats in France said 'yes' to every French demand, he continued to stock and provision his garrisons in Scotland. In short he was calling Philip's bluff. The French were supposed to send men to Scotland by 16 February 1302 to take custody of the lands in the southwest. Edward took a gamble, and it paid off as the 16th came and went without a Frenchman in sight. This meant that Philip had broken the terms of his own treaty, and Edward was free to keep his conquests in Scotland.

The real question is why did Philip implement the treaty in the first place, if he had no intention of delivering on it? By failing to send men to Scotland on  the agreed date, he missed an opportunity to humiliate Edward and seize control of a very large chunk of Scottish territory. It may be that the French king was simply playing for time, and chose to hold Edward and the Scots at arm's length while he contemplated his options elsewhere.

Clever old Philip. What he did not predict - nor did anyone else - was the obliteration of his field army in Flanders on 11 July 1302.  This was every bit as shocking a defeat as Stirling Bridge was for the English, and with much wider consequences. In the space of a single terrible, blood-soaked day, Philip's position crumbled away like dust. His enemies rejoiced. When informed of the wonderful, impossible news, Pope Boniface is said to have leaped out of bed and danced a jig. As for the English, the sound of their laughter could be heard all the way across the Channel.