Normans in Spain // Roger Tosny & Tee Reconquista (1013-1040)

This video is sponsored by Skillshare. The first 500 people to sign up using the link below will get their first two months of classes for free. But more on that at the end of the video. By the year 1028, a new darkness had descended upon the mainland of Northern Europe. Though the Viking incursions of the previous century were now, for the most part, little more than a bad dream, the Carolingian heirs of the great unifier Charlemagne were all dead. In their place had arisen a dizzying array of independent principalities and warlords, for the most part owing only nominal allegiance to the new ruling dynasty in West Francia, descendants of the Mayor of Paris, the Capetians. Though others, such as the Count of Flanders, themselves claimed descent from a cadet branch of the Carolingians, of course with the prestige that went along with it. It was during this age as a new unifier reigned triumphant over the former Scandinavian homelands of the Vikings, this one a Christian Emperor, Canute. And as the various Frankish magnates began to erect stone castles and to employ knights for the very first time, that a Christian monk, Adhemar de Chabonnet, put the final touches to his three book chronicle, covering the entire history of the Franks. From the earliest mythic days before the fall of the Western Roman Empire, right up until the blood-splattered feudal anarchy of his own time. Though the first two books relate little new information in terms of history, relying heavily on earlier pre-existing texts, the third part, beginning with the death of Charlemagne in 814, and running all the way up until the events of Adhemar's own lifetime, is of particular importance to modern historians. It is within this work that Adhemar relates a series of events that took place far to the south of his homeland, just a few short years before. He tells of a vicious conflict unfolding not in France, but in the Iberian Peninsula on its southern flank, in modern-day Spain. For this was the very beginning of the Reconquista, a brutal conflict between Christian and Muslim that would rage on for another 400 years to come. For the Muslim inhabitants of Al-Andalus, once arguably the intellectual centre of the world, this was also a dark time. After close to 300 years of domination in Iberia, the once mighty Caliphate, still home to many of the most populous cities in Europe, had fallen. Cordoba, the duelled metropolis at the heart of it all, the realm of world-renowned scholars and pious warrior lords alike, ever since the Arabic and Berber warriors first came across the sea in the early 8th century, had collapsed into an orgy of violence between rival factions, culminating most recently in a total sack of the capital in 1013. In the wake of the collapse of the Caliphate, and even before in some areas, a myriad patchwork of new rulers and states had arisen, all of them centres of new independent polities, many of them hostile to one another. By the beginning of the 11th century, the paradise of Al-Andalus was dead. The age of the Taifa states had begun, and in time, the embattled Christian powers of the north, once relegated to remote mountains and hidden fastnesses, would begin to go on the offensive, in a near 500-year campaign, only fully completed in 1492, that would eventually culminate in the reconquest of Spain from Muslim rule. A few of these new Taifa states retained large armies, and even navies, perhaps most notably in the case of the state of Denia on the eastern coast, commanded by a Slavic former slave soldier of the last great ruler of the Caliphate, Al-Mansur. Feared and demonised throughout Christian Europe, as Al-Mansur, the tyrant of Spain and potential instigator of the end of days. Denia, under its ruler Mujahid, seems to have retained control of much of the Caliphal fleet, once masters of the western Mediterranean. In the years following the collapse of Cordoba, from the excellent natural harbour at Denia, these experienced sailors continued to dominate many of the seaways formerly dominated by the Caliphate. Uninterrupted by the fall of the once mighty capital, Mujahid, a Slavic slave soldier turned devout Muslim, sought to extend his influence by pushing out into the ocean, first claiming the Balearic Islands in 1015, before raiding the Italian mainland, and even attempting to seize the island of Sardinia on at least two occasions. After repeated failed expeditions to take the island, and unwilling to fully commit his forces in the face of battle-ready Italian fleets, operating out of the rising sea powers of Genoa and Pisa, Mujahid's gaze instead extended to much closer to home. He looked to the neighbouring realm of Barcelona, just to the north along the coast, just one of the many independent Christian kingdoms in the north of Iberia at the time. The county had weathered persistent and near-continual attacks before, most notably under Mujahid's patron Al-Mansur, who had launched attack after attack upon the Christian kingdoms of the north during the dying days of the first millennium, in an apocalyptic effort to finally complete the Islamification of Iberia. Ultimately however, it was this constant warring and his flooding Iberia with Stoic Berber tribesmen from northern Africa that alienated much of the population of the Caliphate, leading to the civil war, overthrow of his son, and swift collapse after his death. By 1017 however, in the wake of the Ramon Borrell's death, Barcelona had a boy ruler, in the form of his son Berengar. As far as Mujahid was concerned, very much cut from the same cloth as his benefactor Al-Mansur, this was easy pickings. Not only a potentially lucrative endeavour, but also a way to legitimise himself as an Islamic statesman, especially within the chaotic, racially motivated violence now regularly sweeping through the former lands of the Caliphate. The initial raids went well. With Ramon Borrell's death had come uncertainty. His wife, Irma Sind, hailing from Carcassonne in the south of Francia, had been left to pick up the pieces. Though a respected noblewoman, she could scarcely afford to send her few remaining household warriors out to their deaths in a last forlorn hope. Rather, she, her young son Berengar, and their retinue retreated back to their strongholds to wait out the assault. For Mujahid, the raids could not have gone any better. Lines of human cargo, formerly farmhands from all over the southern lands of the county, came streaming down from the north to enter a life of slavery. Not altogether too different from the one they were captured from, but with the added uncertainty of new masters. They were accompanied by all manner of plunder, relics, and stolen cattle. The next time Mujahid's warriors went north, however, according to Adhemar's tale, rather than the usual fleeing peasants and warrior lords preferring to hole themselves up in their castles in order to minimise the damage from the inevitable sacking that would follow, they found a force of heavily armed men waiting for them. Rather than risk her own warriors, Irma Sind called in support. Fully kitted out with steel armour, swords and glistening helms, mounted on ferociously well-trained horses, a new band of warriors had entered the fray. When faced with this alien sight, Mujahid's men might have assumed that the household warriors of Barcelona had finally risked everything to meet the Moors on the battlefield, a gamble that could have lost them their entire realm. On closer inspection, however, these were no men the Moors had ever seen before. Their skin was paler than the Barcelona's, and even their Frankish neighbours to the north. Their arms were foreign too. This was a group of sellswords, and as battle commenced, their martial skill soon became apparent. After a vicious melee, fought under the Iberian sun, dust and crimson mingling in the air, it was the sellswords who won the day. A few nights later, beaten, bloodied and half-starved, the Moorish soldiers of Denir, unlucky enough to be captured, were rounded up by the mercenary warriors. One of the sellswords, from the magnificent horse he rode into battle and the deference his men gave to him, clearly the leader, stepped forward. In full armour, walking up and down the line of terrified, barely clothed men in front of him, he paused in front of one of them. Nodding briefly at the two soldiers who flanked him, the unfortunate man was dragged out from the crowd. Right there and then, with a ferocious downward swing of his roughly hewn, yet brutally effective longsword, according to Adhemar, the mercenary commander cleaved the man in two, his terrified and now blood-splattered comrades having no option but to look on with horror at the unfolding events. Lifting up one half of the brutally sliced man, the sellsword proceeded to carry it over to a nearby cauldron, before flinging it in, some of his men stern-faced, others visibly grimacing around him. After boiling the half of the man to the abject horror of the moors, the flesh was offered to them as food, the only sustenance they'd been given in days. The other half, the grim commander took into his own tent, as far as the moors were concerned, for him and his men to eat. According to Adhemar, the grisly act was carried out again and again, thinning out the moorish numbers, so that only a few remained. Eventually, those few brutalised men were freed from their captivity to head home, and spread the word of the horrific fate that awaited any who might seek to try their luck against the Count of Barcelona. Whether entirely true or not, perhaps motivated by a personal dislike for those he wrote about, Adhemar's tale certainly hints at a significant shift in the consciousness of Iberia. The world had changed. No longer would the Christian states of the north sit by and watch as their lands and people were harassed and raided. Though many had been fighting already for 300 years, no one could deny it any longer. The Reconquista had begun. Of course, those sellswords were Normans. Self-proclaimed descendants of Vikings. Grim warsmiths from the northern flank of Francia. Desensitised to barbarity due to their own harsh upbringings in the maelstrom of violence which had followed the breakdown of centralised power in West Francia. A struggle they firmly rooted themselves at the top of. The man that led them on that day was Roger Tosne, a grim and brutal Norman warrior lord. The fact that he had only pretended to eat his captives didn't matter. His work was done. It had been a calculated act of political theatre intended to spread fear and terror amongst the Moors of the south. Just had been done so many times before in his homeland, more often than not against the downtrodden peasant population. Once free, but now labouring under the servitude of the feudal system. From then on, amongst the Moors of the Taifa states, Roger would be known simply as Mangor Damor, the Moor Eater. On first glance, Roger Tosne was perhaps the very embodiment of what it meant to be a Norman during the early 11th century. He was a man of contrasts. A devout Christian, yet capable of brutal and hideous tortures when he needed to be. His father Raoul had largely been the same, making a name for himself during the late 10th century, during the time of the Norman Duke Richard II, and subsequently, like so many of his kinsmen to follow over the coming century, as a sellsword in the south of Italy. Yet, despite their outward appearance and behaviour, the Tosnes may actually have been Frankish in origin, seeming to hail from the Île-de-France region near Paris. Quite frankly, they were opportunists, and more than happy to collaborate with the new Scandinavian aristocracy of Normandy if it meant their progression in society. And progress they did. By the 12th century, the meteoric rise of the Tosnes was so complete, that in true Norman fashion, they were given an entirely Scandinavian origin story, by the chronicler Audric Vitalis, writing that they were of the lineage of Malaholc, uncle of Duke Rollo. Of course, it is possible that Malaholc was actually their ancestor, and the Frankish origins of the Tosnes not strictly true. Male is a name of Breton origins, meaning chief or king. Malaholc's arrival into Normandy would have coincided with the exile of the Brittany Vikings, and of course, an influx of Breton Vikings into neighbouring Normandy as a result. The earliest written reference to the Tosnes comes in the late 11th century text, The Acts of the Archbishops of Rouen, a useful source for deciphering who was who during the earliest transitional phase of Norman history, long before the glory days of William the Conqueror or Robert Guiscard, a time when an incoming Norse-speaking warrior elite desperately clung on to their new acquisitions amidst a swarm of enemies looking to throw them back into the sea. The Acts of the Archbishops refers specifically to a powerful man, Raoul, son of Hugh de Calvercamp, a lord said to have been of illustrious stock, hailing from the Ile de France. Hugh's other son, also named Hugh, was also an especially important figure, serving as Archbishop of Rouen during the late 10th century, an important seaport on the River Seine, probably in the hands of Norsemen since the 9th century, and the largest settlement in Normandy. True to the French origins of the family, Hugh, active from around 942 to 989, had previously been a monk at the Monastery of Saint-Denis near Paris. We may surmise that both brothers, Hugh the Priest as well as Raoul the Lord, like their father before them, after several unsuccessful attempts to dislodge the Normans, distinguished themselves as willing allies to the new rulers of the region. Successfully winning the support of the Franco-Scandinavian warrior lords, and themselves becoming part of the new Franco-Scandinavian elite which at first appeared around Duke Richard I, and subsequently his son Richard II in the latter half of the 10th century. After the death of Hugh the Lord, his son Raoul succeeded him, a man who perhaps now saw himself as much a Norman as his Scandinavian neighbours, most of whom now spoke a form of French as their primary tongue. As the years went by, the family's meteoric rise only continued, with Archbishop Hugh regularly endowing his brother Raoul with lands taken from the church's holdings, such as the village and future family stronghold of Tosne. Further lands were then granted by Duke Richard II in return for the continued loyalty of the family. In 991, just as Almanzor decimated the lands of northern Spain far to the south, enslaving and ravaging the Christian kingdoms there, the Anglo-Saxon kingdom to Normandy's north suffered its own ravaging at the hands of a resurgence of Viking attacks. This time led by newly invigorated armies of Danes, Christian now having been taught the art of statehood by the imperial Germans to their south. Much to King Æthelred of England's disdain, Duke Richard I still maintained firm links with his ancestral homelands, regularly recruiting Danish and Norse mercenaries into his army, and allowing Viking longships to come into trade at Rouen. It is within this context that Raoul, being one of the leading lords of the realm, bore witness in 991 to an accord between Duke Richard I and the Anglo-Saxon king, signifying his importance at the Norman court. After this date however, such is the early medieval period, very little remains in the way of evidence on the actions and whereabouts of the Tosnes, though by 1013 both Raoul and his son Roger guarded the castle at Tiliers for the new duke, Richard II. Much had changed in the intervening years, including an attempted English raid on Norman soil just after the turn of the millennium, followed by the complete conquest of England, first by the Danish king Sveinforkbeard, then his son Canute. Though it remains unclear exactly why it happened, perhaps it is within this context that shortly afterwards both Raoul, likely quite an old man for the age, and his son Roger were deprived of their lands and sent into exile. Though this act could quite easily have been a disaster for the family, undoing close to a century of hard work in rising to the top of Norman society. In fact, it turned out to be an opportunity. The Tosnes were formidable fighters, followed by a core retinue of loyal warriors, and luckily for them, in the early 11th century there was no lack of opportunity for landless northern European warlords. For close to two decades in fact, bands of Normans had been heading south to the Italian peninsula, not to the rising city-states on the northern shores, nor the German-held lands of the interior, nor to the papal state in the centre, but to the confusing patchwork of Lombard principalities, Byzantine imperial possessions, and breakaway Arabic splinter-states to the south. There, other Norman families, such as the Mafia-esque Drengo clan, had already embedded themselves within the near-endemic power struggles that waged there, making reputations for themselves as integral swords for hire, fighting for anyone who would pay. It was into this dangerous, yet lucrative land of craggy hilltop castles and arid, unforgiving plains, that Raoul made a new base for himself. Though at first he likely accompanied his father to the south, Roger had greater ambitions. It simply wasn't the Norman way to remain in the shadow of a great man, especially as a Frank wishing to prove himself amongst a group of Normans. By around 1020, he and his men had found their way to the other side of the western Mediterranean, to another battleground, fertile lands just opening up in the aftermath of the fall of Córdoba. Roger arrived in Spain. As a leading Norman knight, likely already possessing a formidable reputation, Roger's assistance was snapped up, finding himself in the service of the Regent of Barcelona, Ermincend of Carcassonne, beset by incoming raiders after the death of her husband. At the time, the small Christian states of northern Iberia could use any and all help they could get. They welcomed volunteers and adventurers who they could use to defend their lands, and in turn to launch offensives against the newly forming Taifa states to the south, many of whom, like Mujahid, now sought legitimacy at home by raiding their northern neighbours. Yet, this alliance was far more than simple opportunism. As far as Roger was concerned, it was entirely possible, if not likely, that he would never see his homeland again. He needed to start again. He needed new lands, and Barcelona would do nicely. Just like his kinsmen would increasingly seek to do in the south of Italy, he may have attempted to ingratiate himself within the nobility of that county. According to Adhemar, not only did Roger rush to the help of Ermincend, but he also secured the hand of her daughter in marriage, thus ensuring a future for himself, perhaps along with a formidable dowry and the promise of eventual rule. Therefore, it was most certainly in Roger's interests to terrorise the incoming Moorish raiders. Not only did Roger help to defend against incoming attacks from Denir, but according to Adhemar, he also waged his own war to the south, capturing several castles and towns in the process. Unfortunately, information on this period is tantalisingly scant, and by 1024, both Roger and his father gained permission from Richard II to return to Normandy, presumably with much of their lands being restored to them. Of Roger's Spanish wife, Gotalina, little more is known besides the few brief references given by Adhemar. Within a few years, both men were back in their homeland, significantly richer and more battle-hardened than before. Raoul died there shortly after returning, after a hard life and a long career, and Roger, of course, became the new patriarch of the family. In the decades leading up to the following, a new and formidable architectural trend had revolutionised both warfare and society in northern Francia, pioneered by such feudal lords as Fulc Nera, the Count of Anjou, now entirely independent of the Capetian King of West Francia, probably possessing as much power, if not more, than their nominal overlord. The age of the castle had well and truly begun. These huge fortresses, buildings that would never have been allowed, had a strong centralised power sat on the throne, allowed regional lords to remain near-untouchable to their enemies, and subjugate their peasant populations into near-slavery in the process. As a powerful lord, Roger, of course, was no exception, beginning construction on his own fortress almost as soon as he returned home. By 1035, the castle, Quib Donjon, was complete. Its formidable stone walls would continue to house regional noblemen until the 16th century. Along with the castle, Roger founded the town of Conches-en-Ouche, along with its church in Sainte-Euphoie in 1026, and the abbey of Saint-Père-de-Castillon in 1035, where monks from Fécamp Abbey were installed. This monastery was one of the first baronial foundations in Normandy. The foundation charter reveals that the Lord of Tosney gave it a small possession around Conches and his forest. In 1035, Duke Robert I, known as Magnificent to some and the Devil to others, died en route as he returned home from pilgrimage in the Holy Land. The death of the Duke began an extremely troubled period in the Duchy of Normandy. Robert had named his son William as his heir just before his death. The only issue with this was that the boy was a bastard, as rumour had it, whelped on a tanner's daughter. This was just the excuse the already independent-minded nobility needed, and Roger, whose relations with his neighbours were already strained, was one of major players in the civil wars that followed. For five years, Roger, along with a whole host of other Norman lords, most of them operating out of their own personal ambition rather than genuine conviction, refused to recognise the new Duke, due to him being illegitimate. Most notable amongst the victims of Roger's wrath was Humphrey of Vielle, one of the most important landholders in Eastern Normandy. By 1040, however, Roger played his cards one final time, riding out to face Humphrey's son, also named Roger, in battle. In the ensuing disaster, not only was Tosney killed in the fighting, but both of his eldest sons died of their wounds a few weeks later. Tosney had underestimated his enemies, and he paid the price for it. Soon enough, peace was re-established between the Tosney family and the neighbouring lords. Though, in a rather dark twist, Roger's widow, Gotalina, far away from her homeland of Barcelona, was forced to remarry Richard, the Count of Evreux, to whom she would bear sons. Roger's son, Raoul II, became the new leader of the family, and he realised which way the wind was blowing, retaining his family's position by becoming a trusted advisor to the young duke, William, eventually forming part of the duke's inner circle, alongside the killer of his father and brothers, Roger de Beaumont. By 1054, Raoul served as William's standard-bearer, and he is one of the few proven companions of William known to have fought at the Battle of Hastings. Tradition says he gave up the role of standard-bearer, his hereditary office, in order to be able to fight closer to his liege lord. If you want to hear William's epic speech from the Battle of Hastings, as recorded by the later historian Henry of Huntingdon, then go and check out our second channel, Voices of the Past, and don't forget to like and subscribe for primary sources from history. In return for his service to the duke, Raoul was rewarded with substantial domains in England, most notably the two baronies of Flamstead and Wrethamthorpe in Hertfordshire and Norfolk respectively. Three other family members were also rewarded, most notably his brother Robert, who was given lands in Stafford and built the castle there. The family's fortunes were now international, with Raoul's daughter Godderhilde marrying a minor lord from the Lorraine region to Normandy's northeast. It is from this region that many of the participants of the First Crusade originated, and Godderhilde's husband was one of these lords, Baldwin of Boulogne. Later, after Godderhilde died en route to the Holy Land, he would become the first king of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. Back in Normandy, the Tosneys were particularly active during the troubles which followed William's death, and the subsequent conflict between Empress Matilda and Stephen, another period famous for its castle building and feudal anarchy. The family suffered increasingly declining fortunes over the years. Finally, in 1204, Roger IV of Tosney lost his continental fiefdoms as a result of his support for King John, and thus his family had to withdraw to England to begin again. By 1309, its male line became extinct. By this time, the Normans of the south had already founded several kingdoms, and remarkably began to integrate with Muslims in Sicily to create an entirely new culture. In Spain, they weren't so fortunate. The political situation there had simply been too stable to foster widespread takeover by Normans. Many Normans did head south to serve in the armies of kings such as Sancho Ramirez of Aragon. Walter Giffard, another of Duke William's close associates, who served in Spain in the mid-1060s, being a good example. Yet, the situation there was very different to the confused machinations of southern Italy, giving few opportunities to seize lands outright, with only a very few lords such as Robert Bordet being able to successfully integrate themselves on a long-term basis, with him successfully holding the region of Tarragona between 1129 and 1153. Though, unlike in Italy, he was forced out of his office before he had a chance to make it hereditary. This video was brought to you by Skillshare, an online learning community with thousands of courses run by leading experts in dozens of creative and entrepreneurial fields. Here, you can find classes in everything from photography, creative writing, animation, video editing, music production, to marketing, productivity, freelancing, and web development. 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