In the spring of 1217, the future of England hung by the slenderest of threads. The kingdom was fractured by civil war, its capital and vast swathes of its territory occupied by a foreign prince who had been invited to claim the throne. The legitimate king, Henry III, was a boy of nine, his authority barely recognised beyond a small circle of loyalists. The institutional framework that held the realm together, Magna Carta, had been born in rebellion and annulled by the Pope, only to become the very banner under which the king’s party now desperately fought. In this crucible of chaos, two figures, separated by age and gender but united in purpose, stood as bulwarks against the tides of dissolution: an aged knight in his seventies, William Marshal, and a formidable castellan, Nicola de la Haye. Their 'indirect alliance', forged in the crucible of war, would culminate in a single, brutal battle in the streets of Lincoln—an event that would not only save the Plantagenet dynasty but also secure the enduring legacy of the Great Charter and shape the future of English governance.
A Kingdom Divided: From Magna Carta to Civil War
The crisis of 1217 was the savage culmination of King John’s disastrous reign. His loss of Normandy, his bitter conflict with the Papacy, and his arbitrary and extortionate financial exactions had alienated a powerful faction of his barons. In 1215, at Runnymede, they forced upon him the “Great Charter of Liberties,” a revolutionary document that sought to define and limit royal power by law. John, however, had no intention of abiding by its terms. He swiftly sought and obtained a papal bull from his new overlord, Pope Innocent III, declaring Magna Carta “not only shameful and demeaning but also illegal and unjust” and thereby null and void.
This act of royal perfidy plunged England into the First Barons’ War. The rebel barons, led by figures like Robert fitzWalter, who styled himself “Marshal of the Army of God and Holy Church,” despaired of ever binding John by oath. In a desperate and momentous step, they renounced their allegiance and offered the crown of England to Prince Louis of France, the son of King Philip Augustus. Louis had a plausible, if tenuous, claim through his wife, Blanche of Castile, who was the granddaughter of England’s Henry II. In May 1216, Louis landed in Kent with a substantial army and was proclaimed king (though never crowned) in London. By autumn, he controlled much of eastern and south-eastern England.
Then, on the night of 18 October 1216, the political landscape was irrevocably altered. King John, having lost part of his baggage train in the Wellstream estuary of the Wash, contracted dysentery and died at Newark Castle in Nottinghamshire. The great tyrant, the focus of the rebellion, was gone. The rebel cause was suddenly deprived of its primary justification. In his place was a vulnerable, innocent nine-year-old child, Henry III.
The Greatest Knight and the Child King
The task of saving the boy-king’s inheritance fell to one of the most remarkable men in English history: William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke. Now around 70 years old, Marshal’s life was the stuff of legend. A landless younger son of a minor Wiltshire nobleman, he had risen through sheer martial prowess and unwavering loyalty to become a tournament champion, a trusted advisor, a wealthy magnate through his marriage to the great heiress Isabel de Clare, and a servant to four Angevin kings: Henry II, his sons the Young King Henry and Richard I, and finally King John. He was, as his contemporary biographer wrote, ‘the greatest knight that ever lived’.
Though he had clashed with John and at times withdrawn from court, Marshal’s fundamental loyalty to the Crown remained absolute. At a council of the remaining royalist magnates held at Gloucester in late October 1216, just days after John’s death, the old warrior was acclaimed as regent, or ‘ruler of the king and the kingdom’ (rector regis et regni). Acutely aware of his age and the enormity of the task, Marshal is said to have accepted with humble resolve, stating that even if he had to be carried in a litter, he would not abandon the cause.
His first act as regent was a masterstroke of political genius. On 12 November 1216, at Bristol, Marshal and the papal legate, Guala Bicchieri, reissued Magna Carta in the young king’s name. It was a profoundly pragmatic move. By voluntarily embracing the core principles of the Charter, they stripped the rebels of their moral high ground. The war was no longer a struggle for liberty against a tyrannical king, but a straightforward conflict between a legitimate English heir and a foreign French invader. Several contentious clauses from the 1215 version were removed, but the central principle—that the king was subject to the law—was preserved. This single act began the slow process of winning moderate barons back to the royalist cause. Stability and continuity, embodied in the person of the Marshal, were now the government’s official policy.
The Lincolnshire Connection: The 'Formidable Woman' of Lincoln Castle
While William Marshal marshalled the political and military strategy from the south, the front line of the war was consolidating in the north. Central to this theatre was the city of Lincoln and its formidable guardian, Nicola de la Haye. The fate of the Barony of Brattleby, and indeed all of Lincolnshire, was inextricably linked to the control of Lincoln Castle, which dominated the region’s strategic geography.
Nicola was no stranger to power or conflict. She hailed from a prominent Lincolnshire family and had inherited the hereditary constableship of Lincoln Castle from her father. Royal records show her exercising this authority alongside her husband, Gerard de Camville, and after his death, in her own right—a rare and significant feat for a woman in the 13th century. She was a proven loyalist, having staunchly defended the castle for King John against a rebel siege in 1216. The chronicler of Barnwell Abbey described her as a “formidable woman” (femina virilis animi) who bore the siege with an unyielding spirit.
In a world where allegiances shifted like sand, Nicola’s loyalty was rock-solid. Upon John’s death, she immediately affirmed her allegiance to Henry III. William Marshal, recognising her immense strategic importance, not only confirmed her as castellan but also re-appointed her as Sheriff of Lincolnshire in early 1217. This placed the entire county’s administration and defence in her hands. For the landowners of the Brattleby fee, located just a few miles north of the city, Nicola was not merely a distant noblewoman; she was the embodiment of royal authority, their shield against the encroaching forces of Prince Louis. The rents, taxes, and judicial functions of their barony were now overseen by a woman tasked with defending the realm.
The rebel barons and their French allies knew they could not secure the north of England without taking Lincoln. In the spring of 1217, they gathered a large force under the command of Thomas, the Comte du Perche, and laid siege to the city once more. They quickly overran the lower town, but Nicola and her small garrison retreated into the impregnable stone fortress of the castle, defiantly holding out and sending urgent word to the regent. The stage was set for a decisive confrontation. Nicola’s local, unyielding defence had created the conditions for Marshal’s grand, decisive checkmate.
The ‘Lincoln Fair’: A Decisive Encounter
Upon receiving news of the siege, William Marshal acted with speed and determination. He gathered the royalist forces at Newark-on-Trent, a strategic mustering point just south of Lincoln. He was joined by a formidable array of loyalist magnates, most notably the powerful and sometimes mercurial Ranulf de Blondeville, Earl of Chester, and the loyal bishop and administrator, Peter des Roches of Winchester. The royalist army, though possibly outnumbered by the Franco-rebel force within Lincoln’s walls, was composed of experienced commanders and hardened troops.
On 19 May 1217, Marshal led his army towards Lincoln. Before they marched, he gave a rousing speech, framing the coming battle as a sacred duty to defend their homes, their families, and their young king against foreign invaders. He absolved his men of their sins, promising salvation to any who fell in the righteous cause. For the 70-year-old regent, this was to be his last great battle, and he intended to lead from the front. Against the advice of his colleagues, he insisted on arming himself and taking his place in the vanguard.
The Franco-rebel army made a critical tactical error. Confident in their numbers, the Comte du Perche decided against meeting the royalists in the open field, choosing instead to continue the siege and bottle them up outside the city. He underestimated both the royalists’ determination and the strategic possibilities of the city’s layout.
On the morning of Saturday, 20 May, Marshal’s plan unfolded. While a contingent created a diversion at the main northern gate of the city, one of Marshal’s most ruthless captains, the mercenary Falkes de Bréauté (whom John had called his ‘right hand’), led a small force to a long-disused postern gate on the western side of the castle. Under covering fire from Nicola’s crossbowmen on the castle walls, Falkes and his men broke through, entered the castle, and then charged out into the city, attacking the besiegers from the rear.
Simultaneously, Marshal’s main force assaulted the city’s West Gate. With the rebels now caught between Falkes’s sortie and Marshal’s main charge, panic and confusion erupted in the narrow, steep streets leading up to the cathedral and castle. The royalist crossbowmen, both from Marshal’s army and Nicola’s garrison, wreaked havoc. The Comte du Perche, fighting bravely near the cathedral, was surrounded. When called upon to surrender, he refused and was killed by a sword thrust through the eye-slit of his helmet, a blow attributed in some sources to one Reginald Crocus.
With their commander dead, the rebel resistance collapsed into a bloody rout. Many were cut down in the streets, while others, including a great number of prominent rebel barons like Robert fitzWalter and Saer de Quincy, were captured. Those who tried to flee south found their escape cut off by another contingent of the royalist army. The looting of the city that followed was so extensive that the battle was cynically nicknamed the ‘Lincoln Fair’ by the victorious soldiers. The victory was total, and its effect was catastrophic for Prince Louis. A huge part of his land army, including much of his baronial leadership, was wiped out in a single afternoon.
The Marshal's Wisdom: Reconciliation and Legacy
The Battle of Lincoln was the turning point of the war. But victory on the battlefield is only as good as the peace that follows, and it was here that William Marshal demonstrated that he was not just a great knight, but a profound statesman.
The war’s final act took place at sea. On 24 August 1217, a French fleet carrying reinforcements for Louis was intercepted and decisively defeated off the coast of Sandwich by an English fleet under the command of Hubert de Burgh. With his supply lines cut and his army in England shattered, Louis had no choice but to negotiate.
The resulting peace, the Treaty of Lambeth (or Kingston), signed in September 1217, is a testament to Marshal’s wisdom and foresight. There were no mass executions of the captured rebels, no wholesale confiscation of lands that would have bred resentment for generations. Instead, Marshal offered a path to reconciliation. The English rebels were allowed to return to their allegiance and buy back their lands for a reasonable fine. Prince Louis was given 10,000 marks to leave the kingdom with dignity, and an amnesty was declared. It was a peace designed to heal, not to punish.
To cement this reconciliation, Marshal once again put Magna Carta at the heart of the settlement. A third, definitive version of the Charter was issued in November 1217, alongside a new Charter of the Forest which addressed specific grievances related to the vast royal forests. By making the Charters the foundation of the post-war government, Marshal ensured that the principles the rebellion had first been fought for were now inextricably linked to the survival and legitimacy of the Plantagenet monarchy.
William Marshal served as regent for another two years, working tirelessly to restore royal administration, replenish the treasury, and secure the kingdom for his young king. In the spring of 1219, his health finally failing, he prepared for death. On his deathbed at Caversham, he fulfilled a long-held vow by taking the robes of a Knight Templar. He died on 14 May 1219 and was buried in the Temple Church in London, where his magnificent effigy can still be seen today.
His legacy was nothing less than the preservation of England. He had inherited a divided kingdom on the verge of conquest and, through a combination of political sagacity, military genius, and immense personal prestige, he bequeathed a united realm with a secure dynasty and a foundational legal framework. He was the stabilising force in a world of chaos. While others—kings, popes, and barons—were driven by ambition and ideology, Marshal was driven by a simpler, more profound code: loyalty and a duty to the realm.
For the people of the Barony of Brattleby and the wider county of Lincolnshire, the events of 1217 were not distant political manoeuvrings. They were a life-and-death struggle played out on their doorstep. Their security depended on Nicola de la Haye’s courage in Lincoln Castle, and their future was decided by the charge of William Marshal’s knights up the city’s steep hill. The ‘indirect alliance’ of the formidable castellan and the legendary regent saved more than a boy-king; it ensured the continuity of an independent English monarchy, bound by the rule of law enshrined in a document that remains, to this day, a global symbol of liberty: Magna Carta. William Marshal was not just a knight. He was an institution.
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Sources & Further Reading
Primary Sources:
L’Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchal (The History of William Marshal). The only known contemporary biography of a secular knight, commissioned by his son. An invaluable, if biased, source. Edited and translated by A.J. Holden, D. Crouch, and S. Gregory (3 vols., Anglo-Norman Text Society, 2002-2007). Roger of Wendover, Flores Historiarum. A key chronicle for the reign of King John and the minority of Henry III, written at St Albans Abbey. Domesday Book Online. The Lincolnshire folios provide context on landholding patterns in the 11th century, including the entry for Brattleby (Bratelbi). Patent Rolls of the Reign of Henry III Preserved in the Public Record Office (H.M.S.O., 1901-). These official government records contain entries confirming Nicola de la Haye’s appointments as sheriff and castellan.
Secondary Sources:
Asbridge, Thomas. The Greatest Knight: The Remarkable Life of William Marshal, the Power Behind Five English Thrones. (Simon & Schuster, 2014). A lively and accessible modern biography. Carpenter, David. The Minority of Henry III. (University of California Press, 1990). The definitive academic study of the period 1216-1227, with extensive detail on the Battle of Lincoln and Marshal’s regency. Carpenter, David. Magna Carta. (Penguin Classics, 2015). Provides an excellent analysis of the various versions of the Charter and their political context. Crouch, David. William Marshal: Knighthood, War and Chivalry, 1147-1219. 3rd Edition. (Routledge, 2016). The leading scholarly biography of Marshal. Johns, Susan M. Noblewomen, Aristocracy and Power in the Twelfth-Century Anglo-Norman Realm. (Manchester University Press, 2003). Contains analysis of powerful women like Nicola de la Haye. Morris, Marc. King John: Treachery, Tyranny and the Road to Magna Carta. (Hutchinson, 2015). An excellent account of John’s reign and the origins of the Barons’ War. Painter, Sidney. William Marshal, Knight-Errant, Baron, and Regent of England. (Johns Hopkins Press, 1933). An older but still valuable biography. Victoria County History: A History of the County of Lincoln. (Various vols.). Provides detailed local history of manors and parishes, including those within the historic Barony of Brattleby.