Wow. Eight hundred twenty five years ago today, King Richard I (Lionheart) was wounded by a crossbow bolt whilst fighting in France. He died thirteen days later, on April 6, 1199.
In Hoc Signo Vinces.
He has a troublesome history on many fronts, not least of which is his tie-in to anti-Jewish violence, something which began with what would (in these days) be considered a social media meme, and which ended with Richard’s edict that those responsible for the mess should themselves be executed for their role in the outrage. (Whether or not he really meant it, is still open to debate.)
Subsequent events in Richard’s life cemented his role as that most English of kings (despite the generally acknowledged fact that he barely spoke the language), culminating with his imprisonment at the hands of Leopold of Austria. So many stories. So many legends. As it turned out, though, it all came down to the money (imagine my surprise), and Richard was released upon payment of 150,000 marks and some jiggery-pokery WRT his kingdom.
Subsequently, Richard returned (for about five minutes) to England, thence to depart to Normandy. That was it. He never went back to his “native” country.
He’s buried in the abbey church at Fontevrault, alongside his parents, Henry II and Queen Eleanor.
I guess this post is, in a sense, for all those who think they’ve discovered something “new” in the story of the British royal family. Trust me, shit has been flying there for many more centuries than you–or I, or anyone else currently on this earth–has been alive. That same family has survived, unbroken, since 1066, and I guess it’ll outlive most of us now.
God Bless, brave lady.
