Does this mean that people also don’t know about the striking similarities between the Red Wedding in Game of Thrones and events that went down at a certain Welsh castle in 1175
The town is Abergavenny. The year, as previously stated, is 1175. The castle is this, but with fewer holes in it, and also a roof.
The history is… complicated.
I don’t have the time, the space, or indeed the inclination to get into all the nuances about Anglo-Welsh relations in 1175, but I can provide a very abbreviated immediate context.
In around 1162, a Norman baron named Henry FitzMiles was killed. No-one knows the exact details of his murder, but it likely occurred at Castle Arnallt in Usk, which was the fort and home of Seisyll ap Dyfnwal, whose name makes much more sense if you can read Welsh. FitzMiles, as well as being a Baron, was also a Marcher Lord. This means that he held swathes of land in the Welsh Marches, which was an ever-changing area along the border between England and Wales, shifting as new areas were conquered and lost to Welsh incursions.
The March was an odd sort of place, at times effectively independent of both England and Wales, and the Marcher Lords were often considered to be especially ruthless. By 1175, a huge proportion of Wales was technically under the rule of Marcher Lordships, which meant there was a huge amount of animosity between the native Welsh Lords and the invading Lords of the Marches. This is all very brief and the real history is much more complicated, but that’ll do as a basis for what happened next.
FitzMiles was the Baron of Abergavenny, which, at the time, was situated in the Marches (it’s now in Monmouthshire, Wales.) Seisyll was the Lord of Upper Gwent, which was in Wales proper. And in about 1162, for reasons unknown, FitzMiles died in Seisyll’s castle. The immediate assumption was that Seisyll had ordered the killing, or perhaps even committed it himself.
FitzMiles died with no issue (i.e. no legitimate male heir), and so Abergavenny Castle passed into the hands of his nephew, William de Braose, 3rd Lord of Bamber. Even though his uncle’s death had bestowed a castle, a title and lands upon him, William III was not a happy chap. While he spent the next few years doing some expensive renovations to his castle, he also resented the Welsh for the murder of his uncle.
His son, William IV de Braose, was watching. By Christmas 1175, William IV was about 25 years old, and he wanted to make a name for himself. He decided that the best way to do it would be to take revenge on his father’s behalf, and so he invited Seisyll and his allies, as well as many other Welsh Lords, to a Christmas Day feast at Abergavenny Castle.
Now, it’s important to bear in mind a few very important things about Welsh culture and ritual at the time, primarily the huge emphasis placed on host/guest relationships. As an act of respect, it was traditional, when entering another person’s home or property, to lay all weapons down at the door. Whether you were entering a tavern, a church, or your enemy’s castle, a good guest would not bear arms. It was a sign that you meant no harm, and that your intentions were peaceful and honourable. It was also a gesture of trust in your host, and it was the host’s duty to honour that gesture of trust by treating their guests with great respect. It’s comparable, in some ways, to the Ancient Greek concept of xenia; a sacred generosity shown to one’s guests through the offer of shelter and protection. Also, it was Christmas Day, a time of peace and goodwill. Let’s not forget that.
William IV, although not Welsh, was absolutely aware of this tradition - there were, after all, similar traditions throughout much of Medieval Europe. So, when writing the invitations, he made sure to offer an olive branch, a chance to let bygones be bygones. Upon being invited to the home of William de Braose, apparently for reconciliation talks, Seisyll and his allies gladly accepted. They arrived at the castle with their respective retinues of men, and upon arriving at the castle for the feast, they all willingly laid their arms down.
And then William gave the order.
The doors were barred from the outside, and every single person in the hall, unable to defend themselves, was killed by William’s men. Then, before news of the massacre could get out and Seisyll’s family could escape, William then sent his men to Seisyll’s castle and had Seisyll’s 7 year old son, Cadwaladr, murdered in front of his mother, who may have been captured; she disappears from the historical record after that day. All things told, it wasn’t the best Christmas on record. With all of his political rivals out of the way, William had, he thought, paved the way for his family to massively increase their power, having eliminated all the leaders of the lands surrounding his.
As is usually the case with blood vengeance, it all came back to bite William in the bum. He lost all of his favour with the King for increasing political tensions between Wales and England and had to effectively retire, and Seisyll’s supporters, led by Hywel ap Iorweth, burnt Abergavenny Castle down in 1182.
George R R Martin did not base The Red Wedding on the Abergavenny Massacre. He based it on a blend of Scottish events, namely the Black Dinner of 1440 and the Massacre of Glencoe in 1692. Of the two, it bears the greatest resemblance to Glencoe, where soldiers took advantage of hospitality custom to murder people from a rival clan. The similarities between the Red Wedding and the Abergavenny Massacre are, apparently, a bit of a coincidence, based on the fact that people tended to massacre their rivals quite a lot back in those days, sometimes in similar ways, and taking advantage of hospitality custom was an unfortunately easy way to do it.
William IV de Braose became known as the Ogre of Abergavenny from that point on, and the de Braose family’s reputation was completely ruined. They built a whole bunch of churches to try and salvage the family name, and Gerald of Wales later spoke of their piety, but also they massacred people, so people didn’t really buy it.
Some sources say that William III de Braose ordered the massacre, not IV. I think it makes more sense that IV would have done it, given his youth and also his later predilection for political murder, so that’s the version I’ve told, but keep in mind that there are variants.
Fun fact: William IV later said that he couldn’t possibly have been the one responsible for the massacre, because someone had thrown him the castle moat just before it happened, where he stayed until he was rescued afterwards. He didn’t even know about it, you guys.
The de Braose family, from that point on, went into something of a decline. William III de Braose lost all royal favour. William IV de Braose regained royal favour with the new King John, but was implicated in the disappearance (and obvious murder) of Arthur of Brittany, the teenage rival of King John to the throne of England, and later died in exile after fleeing Britain in the guise of a beggar. And his son, William V de Braose, had an affair with Joan, Lady of Wales, the daughter of King John and the wife of Llywelyn Fawr, the Prince of Wales. The two of them were caught in flagrante delicto and William was hanged in public for the offence, leaving behind no male heir. Fun fact: William’s daughter, Isabella, was married to Joan’s son. Much like Game of Thrones, it’s all rather incestuous.
Just a small correction, if you don’t mind, @teashoesandhair? You wrote that “William IV de Braose regained royal favour with the new King John, but was implicated in the disappearance (and obvious murder) of Arthur of Brittany, the teenage rival of King John to the throne of England, and later died in exile after fleeing Britain in the guise of a beggar. And his son, William V de Braose, had an affair with Joan, Lady of Wales”. Actually, the guy who had the affair with Joan (or Siwan) was William IV’s grandson, also (confusingly) named William.
See, William IV had 4 sons (and apparently 5 daughters): William (V), Giles, Reginald and John. William (V) was captured along with his mother (William IV’s wife Maud) by John, imprisoned, and died there (supposedly by starvation). Reginald had a son, William (known as Gwilym Ddu in some records), and he was the one who had the affair with Joan, and was hanged. Also, yes, his daughter Isabella married Joan and Llewellyn’s son Dafydd.
It was even more incestuous, because John (William V’s son, William IV’s grandson) married Marared ferch Llewellyn (Llewellyn’s daughter, and possibly Joan’s), and Reginald (William IV’s son and the father of the William who slept with Joan) married Gwladus Ddu, who was also Llewellyn’s daughter (and possibly Joan’s). So they were very good at keeping it all in the family.
Also, Joan’s story is kind of incredible and it’s sad more people don’t know about it. I wish more people would be aware of it - just consider the fact that despite apparently catching her cheating on him, Llewellyn took her back after about a year (very uncommon for the time, to say the least). Sharon Kay Penman wrote a brilliant book about Llewellyn and Joan, called Here Be Dragons, which I highly recommend.
