On This Day: Draconian Norman “forest laws” repealed

November 6th, 1217: England’s longest-lasting law, the Charter of the Forest, is sealed extending freedoms to the common people.

A mere two years after King John affixed the Royal Seal to Magna Carta Libertatum (the “Great Charter of Freedoms”) thereby subjecting the sovereign’s power to the law, England’s people gained another extension to their liberties. In November 1217, the 10-year-old King Henry III granted his assent to the Charter of the Forest marking a radical change to more than 100 years of royal tradition. For the first time in England’s history the common people gained legal rights.

Post AD 1066, with the Normans ruling the country, much of the kingdom had been converted into vast hunting estates known as “royal forests”. These included, for example, Sherwood, the New Forest and the whole of Essex. To the Normans a “forest” was a legally defined area where the “beasts of the chase [deer & wild pig] and their habitats including the vert” were for the pleasure of the monarch [1]. In AD 1079, for example, the New Forest in southern England was set aside by William I as his right, primarily for hunting deer. By 1217 it is estimated that royal estates encompassed nearly one-third of southern England.

These royal estates existed beyond the boundaries of the kingdom and were thus places where ordinary rules did not apply. Indeed, the draconian “forest laws” imposed across England by King William I forbade the cutting down of trees and regulated the gathering of fallen timber for firewood, the collection of berries or indeed anything growing within the forest. The Norman system ousted earlier Anglo-Saxon laws in which rights to the forest were not exclusive to the king or nobles but shared among the people (Woodbury, 2012). The common people’s access to their ancestral environment was drastically curtailed.

William’s forest laws established that taking wood from the forest or hunting in banned areas were crimes, the latter specifically known as poaching. Unsurprisingly, the laws were despised by the commonfolk as they were prevented from using the woodland to provide food, fuel and building materials. They were also banned from enclosing their land by fencing or other means, ostensibly to protect crops, as this restricted the hunt. Likewise, they could not use the timber from the woodland for building houses and were not allowed to hunt game, especially the king’s deer, to provide food for their families. For those living in the forest, they were explicitly not allowed to own dogs or a bow and arrows, and, as the “underwood” was also protected, commoners also faced a severe restriction on the availability of fuel. The punishments for breaking the laws could range from fines to, in the most severe cases, death. Repeat offenders, for example, were blinded or executed. In cases where a culprit could not be found, then whole communities might be penalised. Such punishments provided a lucrative income for England’s early Mediæval kings coincidently at a time when taxation was beyond the crown’s control.

In 1215 King John was coerced into adopting Magna Carta but this did not improve relations with his barons. When the king renounced the “Great Charter”, England was quickly cast back into turmoil. The following year, 1216, saw the untimely death (for him at least) of John and the succession of his infant son, Henry; Magna Carta was back on the table. In 1217, the new Charter of the Forest was sealed on behalf of the child king by his regent, William Marshall, Earl of Pembroke, and a papal emissary. Within it were four provisions concerning the royal forests which, across 17 clauses, restricted the crown’s authority over the forests, reduced their size and restored many of the ancient rights enjoyed by commoners before 1066. The charter became the longest-surviving law in English history remaining on the statute books until 1971 when it was superseded by the Wild Creatures and Forest Laws Act. Bon appétit!

Reference:

Woodbury, S. (2012), “Forest Laws in the Middle Ages”, Available online (accessed 18 September 2024).

Endnote:

1. The “vert” in this case is a late Middle English adjective for flora or greenery. The term entered English via Old French from the Latin viridis meaning “green”.

Dispelling Some Myths: A Union Flag in distress

In April 2024 Tastes Of History wrote an article to dispel a couple of popular myths concerning the flying of the Union Flag upside down. The article has received some comments; some more enlightened than others. One deserves an addendum to the original article to clarify that “[I]f hung horizontally or vertically [on a flat surface], the broad white diagonal should be uppermost in the top-left corner.” So, technically whoever hung the flag may have unintentionally done so upside down. But to be charitable, this flag is in a primary school, and if you know anything about the educational sphere then you will know teachers face far too many pressures in multiple different areas for simple mistakes like this to happen. So, while first forgiving whoever made this easily made mistake let us turn to one of the other comments challenging our claim that flying the Union Flag upside down as a distress signal was a myth.

“No names, no pack drill” [1] but the comment in question reads as follows:

“You can not [sic] prove if it was or was not used upside down as a distress signal. Saying it would not be noticed from a distance is moot. It was meant to be a subtle warning so the enemy very probably would not notice it. As I remember it, it was done if the building/base had infiltrators in it to warn those approaching it. It may not have been an official thing to do, but appears to have been done somewhere at some point due to the widespread stories of it.”

The writer of this comment will remain anonymous, but the content gives us an opportunity to critically think about the claims being made. We stress that what follows is not an attack on the person - a roasting if you prefer - since Tastes Of History believes that sort of approach is negative, unnecessary and perpetuates ignorance. Rather we contend that dissecting the claims made will reveal the fragility of the argument but perhaps offer us all a chance to learn. We hope, dear reader, you will agree.

With that caveat in mind, let us begin. The comment writer’s reference to “the enemy” and “the building/base” strongly suggests they are thinking largely in military terms so let us stick with that premise. For many decades now modern armed forces have used encrypted communications. Were a “Forward Operating Base” (FOB) or “Fire Support Base” (FSB) in a hostile or a semi-permissive environment be under attack, being infiltrated or about to be overwhelmed, then the communications network(s) would be awash with information, situation reports (sitreps), updates and requests for support. On operations to hear the phrase “troops in contact” (or something similar) focuses all attention on the troops in question such that friendly forces will be instantly aware of any actual or developing situation, and ready to help. The need to issue a “subtle warning so the enemy very probably would not notice it” does not therefore stand up to scrutiny. Firstly, noticing a Union Flag being flown upside down from a distance is not exactly moot. As we said in the earlier article: “to a casual observer or someone unfamiliar with the flag’s design it is not very easy to spot whether it is orientated correctly”. The chances with the enemy’s focus wholly on assaulting the base and, if under fire, they would care little for an upside down flag whether they realised its supposed significance as a “distress signal” or not.

One would like to think that military personnel would notice but would they see it was a “subtle warning” something was amiss, or would the typical “squaddie” simply think that someone had made a massive, punishable mistake (while perhaps thankful they had not done it). After serving for nearly a quarter of a century in the British Army, alongside Royal Navy and Royal Air Force personnel, the author has never encountered this idea that flying the flag upside down was a distress signal. No official Ministry of Defence (MoD) or individual service standing orders were issued, no operational orders for deployments included such direction, no unit standard operating procedures (SOPs) mentioned it, there were no unofficial “gentlemen’s” agreements, in fact nothing to substantiate the “distress signal” claim.

The closest reference we could find to date with any proven military connection was on the website of BFBS Forces News [2]. An article published ahead of King Charles III’s coronation celebrations in 2022 questioned, in a country awash with Union Jacks, how many people would unknowingly hang them upside down. Within said article author, Julian Perreira, wrote:

“It is often said that when the Union Flag is flown upside down, it is a form of distress signal – a coded signal – and should only be used as such.”

It is worth highlighting that Mr Perreira did not categorically state that an upside down flag is a distress signal, he merely notes that “it is often said”. In other words, while many people may believe this to be the case, that is not the same as there being any officially recognised, documented proof. Rather the whole “distress signal” notion is predicated on hearsay and uncorroborated word-of-mouth. It is, therefore, just another urban myth, which the Cambridge Dictionary defines as “a story or statement that is not true but is often repeated, and believed by many to be true”.

Returning to our military analogy, where a base is at the very real risk of being overrun, then the defenders undoubtedly will have far more pressing concerns. The most obvious would be directly engaging the enemy and resisting infiltration, but other actions would include destroying cryptographic material and devices, destroying protectively marked (classified) documents, hard drives and recording devices, and generally taking every possible action to deny the enemy any exploitable information and materiel. The belief that someone has time to disengage from the firefight to strike a flag, flip it upside down and fly it once more as a “distress signal”, subtle or not, is just nonsensical.

If still not convinced, then let us consider the weakness of the final sentence in this particular comment which reads:

“It may not have been an official thing to do, but appears to have been done somewhere at some point due to the widespread stories of it.”

Firstly, the writer states using an upside flag as a distress signal was not an officially recognised thing to do. In most mainstream militaries, unofficial actions are frowned upon and not encouraged. Moreover, if not a recognised practice, then that implies leaving a lot of service personnel completely ignorant of said “distress signal”. In other words, if personnel are not briefed or trained to look for this subtle signal then they will not recognise the significance, nor take the appropriate action (whatever that might be), and more dangerously could walk straight into an ambush. Despite this the comment writer contests that flying flags upside down was done somewhere, by someone, at some time, so it must be true. Yet in providing no evidence to support this ambiguous statement, the writer rather neatly commits the very thing they accuse Tastes Of History of doing at the comment’s beginning, that is, not providing evidence for or against the distress signal idea. Except we did.

We stated quite clearly that the authoritative publication on “Flying Flags in the United Kingdom” makes no mention of the practice. Indeed, we can find no official UK governmental or MoD documentation that establishes definitively the practice of flying a Union Flag upside down as a distress signal applicable to the armed forces or anyone else. There are, however, many mentions of the upside down flag as a distress signal in online discussions or articles on the correct way to fly the Union Flag. Are these frequent mentions “the widespread stories of it” happening? If so, then we return to the very definition of an urban myth. Flying the Union Flag upside down as a distress signal may be often repeated and believed by many, but it is simply not true.

If, dear reader, you know otherwise and can provide documentary evidence from an official source, then let us know because every day should be a learning day. Bon appétit!

References:

Cambridge Dictionary, (2025), “Urban Myth”, Cambridge University Press & Assessment website, available online (accessed 8 October 2025).

Perreira, J, (2022), “Union Jack: Do you know the correct way up?”, bfbs Forces News, available online (accessed 8 October 2025).

Endnotes:

1. “No names, no pack drill” has its origins in the British Army where “pack drill” refers to a punishment involving soldiers carrying heavy packs during exercise or drills. The phrase implies that if an individual is not named then there can be no recriminations or punishment for their actions.

2. The British Forces Broadcasting Service (BFBS) provides radio and television programmes for His Majesty's Armed Forces and their dependents worldwide.

On This Day: Caesar’s assassins’ last stand

October 23rd, 42 BC: After two days of fighting near Philippi in northeast Greece the self-styled Libertores (“the Liberators”) met their fate. Having absconded to the eastern provinces of the Roman Republic following the murder of Gaius Julius Caesar on Idibus Martiis [1] two years earlier (44 BC), the leading assassins Gaius Cassius Longinus and Marcus Junius Brutus controlled much of the eastern Mediterranean. Meanwhile a triumvirate was forged between Caesar’s right-hand man, Marcus Antonius (“Mark Antony”); his named heir and great-nephew, Gaius Octavius (“Octavian”); and Legatus (general) Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. Together they secured control of Rome and its western provinces. Leaving Lepidus in Italy, Antony and Octavian set out to confront their enemies.

On October 3rd, with Octavian’s army in danger of being overwhelmed by Brutus’ legions outside Philippi, Antony was compelled to divert his forces away from a clash with Cassius’ flank. The latter mistook the ensuing confusion for defeat and promptly committed suicide. Thus, the first battle of Philippi ended with no clear victor.

Aware that his legions were contemptuous of his command but needing their continued support, and that the Caesarians were reliant on supplies shipped from Italy across the Adriatic, Brutus resolved to wait it out. Battle re-joined on October 23rd, however. A savage encounter ensued until Antony’s cavalry routed the remnant of Brutus’ legions. Fleeing into the surrounding hills, Brutus followed his fellow Liberator’s example and fell on his sword. Eventually Antony discovered the lifeless body and, so the sources claim, ordered that it be wrapped in a purple tunic and cremated. Brutus’ ashes were returned to his mother in Rome. The civil war that rent Rome after Caesar’s murder had ended in defeat for his assassins.

Bon appétit!

Endnote:

1. Idibus Martiis or the “Ides of March” equates to the 15th of that month.

The Bayeux Tapestry

The Bayeux Museum in Normandy which houses The Bayeux Tapestry is set to close for renovation from 1st September 2025 until October 2027. There has been a rumour for a while now that the Tapestry might return to England so the perfect opportunity for this to happen is created by the museum’s refurbishment. Indeed, on 8th July 2025 the Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) confirmed the Bayeux Tapestry will be displayed in a special exhibition in the British Museum from next Autumn until July 2027. Coincidentally, 2027 is also the 1000th anniversary of the birth of William I, the Conqueror. Regardless, now there is no excuse for Tastes Of History not to see in person this iconic historical record.

Tapestry? Surely, it’s an embroidery?

For those not familiar with the Bayeux Tapestry, it is an embroidered cloth measuring nearly 70 metres (230 ft) long and 500 mm (20 in) tall. It depicts, in “cartoon”-like form, the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England in 1066. In that year William, Duke of Normandy, challenged King Harold II for the English throne, a challenge that culminated in the day long fight now known as the Battle of Hastings on October 14th. For centuries the tapestry has been preserved in Bayeux, Normandy.

The Tapestry is thought to date to the 11th-century having been completed within a few years of the pivotal battle. Widely accepted as being made in England in the 1070s, possibly as a gift for William, it tells the story from the Norman point of view. The cloth comprises 58 scenes, many with accompanying Latin text (tituli [1]), embroidered on linen using coloured woollen yarns. Significantly the designs are embroidered rather than woven and thus the cloth does not meet the narrower definitions of a tapestry. Despite this it has been referred to as a tapestry for so long that, perhaps to the annoyance of many pedants, changing the name to “The Bayeux Embroidery” has yet to gain popular traction.

Scholarly analysis in the 20th-century concluded that the Tapestry was probably commissioned by William's maternal half-brother, Bishop Odo of Bayeux who, after the Conquest, became Earl of Kent and, when William was absent in Normandy, regent of England. Odo as the commissioner is hypothesised because, firstly, three of his followers mentioned in the Domesday Book appear on the tapestry; secondly, it was found in Bayeux Cathedral also commissioned by Odo, and finally it may have been fashioned at the same time as the cathedral's construction in the 1070s. It is thus thought that the Tapestry was possibly completed by 1077 in time to be displayed at the cathedral's dedication.

Whether or not the tapestry was commissioned by Bishop Odo, it is widely held to have been designed and constructed in England by Anglo-Saxon embroiderers. This makes some sense since Odo's main power base was by then in Kent and there are other, similar embroideries originating in England around the same time. Moreover, the vegetable dyes used to colour the woollen threads can also be found in cloth traditionally woven in England, and even the Latin text contains hints of Anglo-Saxon expressions.

Construction

Nine embroidered tabby-woven linen panels, between 3 m and 14 m long, were sewn together to produce one continuous cloth. At the very first join the borders do not align neatly but as the embroiderers’ technique improved, the joins became invisible especially where they were subsequently disguised with needlework. The design has a broad central zone with narrow decorative borders top and bottom. Two methods of stitching in crewel (wool yarn) were used: outline or stem stitch for lettering and the outlines of figures, and couching or laid work for filling in figures.

The start of the tapestry has been restored somewhat and over the centuries the cloth has been patched in numerous places. Some of the embroidery, especially in the final scene, has also been reworked, albeit with some regard for the original stitching. That final scene, however, does not mark the end of the tapestry; that has been missing from time immemorial, and the final titulus “Et fuga verterunt Angli” (“and the English left fleeing”) is said to be “entirely spurious”. It is thought to have been added shortly before 1814 at a time of anti-English sentiment. Despite the repairs and reworking, the tapestry seems to have maintained much of its original appearance when compared closely with a detailed drawing made in 1730.

What does it depict?

The tapestry tells the story of the events of 1064–1066, culminating in the Battle of Hastings, through a series of pictures with supporting Latin text. The two main protagonists are Harold Godwinson, recently crowned King of England, leading the Anglo-Saxon English, and William, Duke of Normandy, leading a mainly Norman army.

William was born in 1027, or more likely towards the end of 1028, in Falaise in the Duchy of Normandy. As the illegitimate son of Robert I, Duke of Normandy, and Herleva (or Arlette), a daughter of Fulbert of Falaise who may have been a tanner or embalmer, for much of his life he was known as “William the Bastard”. His mother may have been a member of the ducal household but did not marry Robert. She did, however, later marry Herluin de Conteville with whom she had two sons – Odo of Bayeux and Count Robert of Mortain – and a daughter whose name is unknown. During William’s minority one of Herleva's brothers, Walter, became his supporter and protector until, as the only son of Robert I, William became Duke of Normandy at the age of seven. By the age of nineteen he was in control of Normandy.

At the time the tapestry starts its narration, England’s king, Edward the Confessor, was about sixty years old, childless and without any clear successor. In the 11th-century accession to the English throne was not by primogeniture whereby the firstborn son succeeded his father. Rather, succession was decided jointly by the king and an assembly of the Anglo-Saxon nobility known as the Witenagemot. The most powerful member of that council was Godwin, Earl of Wessex. As part of the complex ties of kinship and familial relationships, Edward had married Edith, Godwin’s daughter, in 1043 thus making Godwin’s son, Harold Godwinson, Edward's brother-in-law. By 1050 relations between the King and the Earl Godwin had soured, escalating to a crisis in 1051 and the resultant exile of Godwin and his family from England. It was during this exile that, in 1051, Edward offered the throne to William whose great aunt, Emma of Normandy, was Edward's mother. In 1052 Godwin returned from exile with an armed force whereupon a settlement was reached between the King and the Earl restoring the latter and his family to their lands. Earl Godwin died a year later, and Harold succeeded to his father's earldom. Harold’s brother, Tostig, became Earl of Northumbria and later his other brothers were also given earldoms: Gyrth as Earl of East Anglia in 1057 and Leofwine as Earl of Kent sometime between 1055 and 1057.

According to the Norman chronicler William of Poitiers, Harold had reputedly sworn to honour William’s succession to the English throne in accordance with the wishes of King Edward. Some sources even claim that Harold, having taken part in William's Breton campaign of 1064, had sworn on holy relics to uphold William's claim. No English source, however, records the trip and it remains unclear if it, and the related oathtaking, occurred at all. It is just possible that the whole episode was Norman propaganda intended to discredit Harold who, by early 1066, had emerged as the main contender to succeed King Edward.

1066 and all that

On 5th January 1066, after 24 years as king, Edward died. Shortly before he had probably entrusted the kingdom to his wife, Edith of Wessex, and to Edith’s brother, none other than Harold Godwinson. Indeed, Harold claimed Edward, on his deathbed, had made him heir over William. Whether true or not, the Anglo-Saxon nobles of the Witenagemot convened and confirmed Harold’s succession. The following day, January 6th, Edward was buried in Westminster Abbey and Harold was crowned becoming, it is believed, the first English monarch to be crowned in the Abbey.

According once more to the account of William of Poitiers, King Harold II sent an envoy to Duke William shortly before the Battle of Hastings. On behalf of Harold, the envoy admitted that Edward had promised the throne to William but argued that this was over-ridden by his deathbed promise to Harold. In reply, William did not dispute the deathbed promise but argued that Edward's prior promise to him took precedence.

On hearing of Harold's coronation, Duke William began plans to invade England. Seven hundred 700 warships and transports were built at Dives-sur-Mer on the Normandy coast, but William lacked Papal support for the invasion. However, by claiming that Harold had sworn on sacred relics to support William’s claim to the English throne, he eventually received the Church's blessing and Norman nobles flocked to his cause. Across the Channel and in anticipation of the invasion, Harold assembled 1,400 men of the Fyrd on the Isle of Wight. These men only expected to serve for two months under command of their respective Eorl, Bishop or Shire Reeve (sheriff) but, possibly because of unfavourable winds, William’s invasion fleet remained in port for almost seven months. After waiting all summer on the South coast for William’s expected invasion, and with provisions running out, on September 8th Harold was forced to disband the Fyrd. As his army returned to their villages to bring in the harvest, Harold headed to London.

Four days later, on September 12th, Duke William's fleet sailed from Normandy. Several ships sank in storms, which forced the fleet to take shelter at Saint-Valery-sur-Somme and to wait once more for the wind to change.

Vikings!

What follows next is not recorded on the Tapestry as it does not involve William or his fellow Normans. For completeness, however, on the very same day the King of Norway, Harald Hardrada, who also claimed the English crown, invaded. According to most contemporary sources, the Norwegian king and Tostig, King Harold’s brother, met at Tynemouth, a town literally at the mouth of the River Tyne. Harald Hardrada had a force of, at the most, around 10,000 to 15,000 men on between 240 and 300 longships, while Tostig had a mere 12 ships with soldiers.

Meanwhile, on September 20th, the invading forces of Hardrada, which means “hard ruler”, and Tostig defeated the English earls Edwin of Mercia and Morcar of Northumbria at the Battle of Fulford 2 miles South of York. The battle was a decisive victory for Harald and Tostig and led the people of York to surrender to them four days later. This would be the last time a Scandinavian army defeated English forces. however.

Learning of the Viking invasion, King Harold had led his army North on a forced march from London, reaching Yorkshire in four days. The same day as York surrendered to Harald and Tostig, Harold Godwinson arrived with his army in Tadcaster, just seven miles from the anchored Norwegian fleet at Riccall. From there he probably scouted the Norwegian fleet in preparation for a surprise attack but, as Hardrada had left no forces in York, King Harold marched right through the town to Stamford Bridge.

Early on September 25th, Hardrada and Tostig departed their landing place at Riccall with most of their forces, leaving a third behind to protect the ships. The Norwegians wore light armour as they were only expecting to meet the citizens of York at Stamford Bridge, as agreed the day before, to decide who should manage the town under Hardrada. At the meeting point the Norwegians saw King Harold's host approaching, heavily armed and armoured, and greatly outnumbering Hardrada's force. The Anglo-Saxon’s forced march had caught Hardrada and Tostig by surprise.

According to Snorri Sturluson, before the battle a single man rode up to Harald Hardrada and Tostig. He gave no name, but spoke to Tostig, offering the return of his earldom if he would turn against Hardrada. Tostig asked what his brother Harold would be willing to give Hardrada for his trouble. The rider replied: “Seven feet of English ground, as he is taller than other men” before riding back to the Saxon host. Hardrada was impressed by the rider's boldness, and asked Tostig who he was. Tostig replied that the rider was Harold Godwinson himself.

The Norwegian army was decisively beaten, with both Hardrada and Tostig killed. Hardrada wearing no body armour fought in a state of berserkergang (berserker fury) with his sword in two hands until he was struck in the throat by an arrow and killed early in the battle. Although sources state that Hardrada's remaining army only filled 20 to 25 ships on the return to Norway, it is likely that this number only accounts for the Norwegian forces. Most of the men hailing from Scotland and Orkney probably remained at Riccall throughout the battle and were not counted in the traditional figure. Even so, this was the last Viking invasion of England.

The Battle of Hastings

Delayed by wind and tides the Norman fleet finally set sail for England on September 27th. William’s force arrived the following day at Pevensey on the coast of East Sussex where perhaps 7,000 men were landed. Meanwhile, celebrations over the Battle of Stamford Bridge were short-lived. With the Normans arrival, King Harold was forced to march his army South, covering 27 miles/day for 241 miles, to intercept William. On October 13th Harold established his army in hastily built earthworks at Caldbec Hill some 8 miles from William’s castle in Hastings. The following day, October 14th, the Anglo-Saxon army took position on Senlac Hill (near the present town of Battle) near Hastings. From his base, now only 6 miles away, William’s army advanced to meet Harold’s clashing in what we now call the “Battle of Hastings”. After nine hours of hard fighting, Harold was killed, and his forces defeated. Harold’s brothers Gyrth and Leofwine were also killed in the battle, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

Arrow in the eye

The notion that Harold died by an arrow to the eye is a popular belief today, but the identification of England’s king in the vignette depicting his death is disputed. A Norman account of the battle, Carmen de Hastingae Proelio (“Song of the Battle of Hastings”), said to have been written shortly after the battle by Guy, Bishop of Amiens, says that Harold was killed by four knights, probably including Duke William, and his body dismembered. Much later (12th-century) Anglo-Norman histories (such as William of Malmesbury's Gesta Regum Anglorum and Henry of Huntingdon's Historia Anglorum) recount that Harold died by an arrow wound to his head. Later accounts reflect one or both of these two versions.

The figure in the panel of the Bayeux Tapestry containing the inscription “hic Harold Rex Interfectus Est” (“here Harold the King has been killed”) is certainly depicted gripping an arrow that has struck his eye. Many believe the figure with an arrow in his eye must be the king because he is directly beneath the name “Harold”. However, examination of other examples from the Tapestry reveal that the visual centre of a scene, not the location of the inscription, identifies named figures. Some historians, therefore, have questioned whether this man is intended to be Harold or if Harold is supposedly the next figure lying to the right almost supine, being mutilated beneath a horse's hooves. Moreover, some contest that the arrow is a later 18th- or 19th-century modification following a period of repair. In Benoît's engraving of 1729, for example, and in Bernard de Montfaucon's engravings of the tapestry as it was in 1730, a spear or lance is shown in place of the arrow and certainly no fletching. On close inspection, needle holes in the linen suggest something has been removed, or shortened, and fletching added to form an arrow.

A figure is slain with a sword in the subsequent panel, and the titulus above this figure refers to Harold's death (interfectus est, “he was killed”). It is more likely that this figure is intended to be the king slain by the Norman knights attested in the Carmen de Hastingae Proelio. The reference to Harold’s body being dismembered is supported by one account stating: “the two brothers of the King were found near him and Harold himself, stripped of all badges of honour, could not be identified by his face but only by certain marks on his body.” Another source states that Harold's widow, Edith Swanneck [2], was called to identify the body, which she did by some private mark known only to her. Either way, evidence from the Tapestry clearly shows Norman archers at work and it was a tried and tested tactic to loose a volley of arrows at the enemy before a Norman cavalry charge. Perhaps both accounts are accurate and that Harold suffered first the eye wound, then the mutilation, and the Tapestry is depicting both in one scene. Bon appétit!

Endnotes:

1. The term tituli (Latin “inscriptions” or “labels”, sing. titulus) refers to the labels or captions that name figures or subjects that were commonly added to classical and medieval art.

2. “Swanneck” comes from the folk etymology which made her in Old English as swann hnecca, “swan neck”, which was most likely a corrupted form of swann hnesce, “gentle swan”.

On This Day: The Iceman cometh

On This Day, 19th September 1991, “Ötzi the Iceman” was discovered by two German hikers, Erika and Helmut Simon, who were trekking the slopes of the Similaun Glacier high in the Ötzal Alps.

At an altitude of 3,200 metres amid melting ice near the Tisenjoch Pass, on the border between Austria and Italy, the Simons spotted a body partially exposed by the retreating glacier. Concerned that the well-preserved human corpse might have been the victim of a recent accident, the couple alerted the nearby Similaun mountain refuge who, in turn, notified the Austrian and Italian police. The harsh weather and thick ice thwarted attempts to recover the body the following day but rescue teams were able to recover a copper axe.

On 23rd September, after it had been determined this was not an Alpine climbing accident, the corpse was finally released from the glacier’s icy grip along with fragments of leather, a flint dagger, a bow and other obviously ancient artefacts. The discovery marked a major archaeological breakthrough, and “Ötzi the Iceman” was introduced to the world. Radiocarbon dating revealed that he was more than 5,000 years old having lived in the early (often overlooked) Copper Age. The body’s state of preservation provided a unique snapshot into Ötzi’s life including the discovery of an intact copper axe, a quiver of arrows, surprisingly advanced insulated shoes, and an arrowhead lodged in his shoulder suggesting a violent death.

Ötzi's clothing

Ötzi was fully clothed when he died.  What he wore was practical and functional, affording him protection from the cold and wet, however, his clothing was damaged by wind and weather when the ice melted and was also badly affected by the unorthodox way in which his body was recovered. As already mentioned, Ötzi’s clothing was made from leather, but also from braided grass. The leather or hide garments were stitched together with animal sinews, grass fibres and tree bast [1]. Interestingly he was not wearing any woollen or woven textile even though the first wool textiles show up in the Late Neolithic period (7,000 to 4,500 BC. Unfortunately, there are no comparable items from Ötzi’s era, so we do not know whether he was wearing traditional everyday wear or special clothing. Even so, he was well prepared for life in the wilderness.

Ötzi’s hide coat reached almost down to his knees, covering his upper body and thighs. The coat was made from light and dark strips of goat and sheep hide stitched together with animal sinews. Ötzi wore the coat with the fur on the outside most likely to repel water or ice. Unfortunately, any sleeves did not survive. Since no recognisable fasteners were found, the coat may have been closed with a belt. It had clearly been in use for a long time because the inside was very dirty, and some torn seams had been repaired with grass fibres quite probably by Ötzi himself.

Remnants of a woven grass mat were found during examination of the excavation site. The mat, made from alpine swamp grass, was initially thought to be a grass cape. This interpretation is now questionable, and today it is believed that it was more likely to be a mat which Ötzi used to protect himself from the rain, or it was part of a backpack.

Ötzi wore a loincloth made from narrow strips of sheep hide stitched together. It was originally a 100 x 33 cm piece of hide worn between the legs and fastened with the belt. His “trousers” consisted of two separate leggings, approximately 65 cm in length, made from strips of domestic goat and sheep hide. The tops of the leggings were reinforced with leather strips, and each were knotted onto his belt with an additional leather strip. At the bottom of the leggings were loops that fastened to his shoes. The leggings had been worn for some time and had been repaired in several places.

Ötzi’s belt consisted of a calfskin strip 4 to 5 cm wide. It was probably around 2 m in length and would have been wrapped twice around the hips. Alternatively, it is speculated that he wore two separate belts – one to keep the loincloth in place and the other to hold the coat closed. Another leather strip was stitched onto the belt to make a small pouch. This belt pouch contained tinder fungus, a scraper, a boring tool, a bone awl and a flint flake.

During excavations, Ötzi’s right shoe was found on his foot. This was removed for restoration. Only the netting of the left shoe survived. The shoes are made up of several layers with the inner consisting of string netting made from lime tree bast. Dry grass was stuffed under the netting for insulation. The outer shoe was made from deer hide and was stitched onto the sole like the netting. The sole was worn with the fur on the inside. The shoe was tied onto the foot with bast string. Experiments with reconstructed shoes have shown that they are warm and comfortable even on long treks but provide little protection from the wet. Presumably, therefore, any wet grass was simply replaced.

A bearskin cap was also uncovered during the archaeological excavation. Pieces of bearskin had been stitched together to form a hemispherical shape with the cap held in place by a chin strap.

What did he look like?  

By current estimates, at the time of his death Ötzi was approximately 1.65 metres (5 ft 5 in) tall, weighed about 61 kilograms (134 lb) and was about 45 years of age. Using modern 3-D technology, a facial reconstruction has been created for the South Tyrol Museum of Archaeology in Bolzano, Italy. It shows Ötzi looking old for his years, with deep-set brown eyes, a beard, a furrowed face, and sunken cheeks. He is depicted looking tired and ungroomed. Further analysis showed Ötzi had a total of 61 tattoos, created from pigment manufactured out of fireplace ash or soot and consisting of 19 groups of black lines. These include groups of parallel lines running along the length of his body and to both sides of the lumbar spine, as well as a cruciform mark behind the right knee and on the right ankle, and parallel lines around the left wrist. The greatest concentration of markings was found on his legs, however. The tattoos appear to be over the sites of injuries Ötzi had sustained. It has been speculated that these tattoos may have been related to pain relief treatments similar to acupressure or acupuncture. If so, then this is at least 2,000 years before their previously known earliest use in China (ca. 1000 BC). Recent research into archaeological evidence for ancient tattooing has confirmed that Ötzi remains the oldest tattooed human mummy yet discovered.

Last meal

Given the state of Ötzi's preservation, identifying his diet proved difficult because his stomach seemed to be missing. In fact, the misplaced organ eluded researchers for some 20 years until, in 2009, while looking at new radiographic scans it was found inexplicably pushed up under his ribs where the lower lungs would normally sit. Significantly for the researchers, it was completely full, which meant that after a battery of tests they were able to determine Ötzi's last meal. Lipids and protein analysis indicated that he was eating both muscle and fat of the ibex (Capra ibex), a wild goat still common in the Ötztal Alps, red deer meat (Cervus elaphus), undigested einkorn wheat, and traces of toxic fern. While being a reasonably well-balanced mix of carbohydrates and proteins but, at around 50%, his diet was alarmingly high in fat compared to the 10% in the average modern diet. Yet, at the altitude Ötzi was hunting or trekking, his increased fat intake would have provided the necessary energy to survive in the harsh Alpine environment.

It is most likely the meat was dried for preservation since fresh meat would have spoiled quickly. The presence of carbon flecks also hinted that the meat could have been smoked. Ötzi also ate einkorn wheat, and the researchers also found traces of bracken, a type of fern, in his stomach. This may have been ingested as an early form of herbal medicine, but current thinking is that it is more likely that he wrapped his food in fern leaves and ingested the potentially toxic spores by mistake - an idea previously proposed for the moss he had also ingested. Whether by accident or design, the discovery of a well-preserved natural mummy nicknamed Ötzi has opened a rare window into the life of a man who lived between 3,400 and 3,100 BC. It has provided scientific evidence for ancient lifestyles and customs at the point when the Copper Age was slowly morphed into the Bronze Age. Bon appétit!

References:

Briggs, H., (2018), “Iceman's last meal was high-fat, high-calorie feast”, BBC News, available online (accessed 16 September 2025).

Katz, B., (2018), “Before He Died, Ötzi the Iceman Ate a Greasy, Fatty Meal”, Smithsonian Magazine, available online (accessed 16 September 2025).

Shaw, H., (2011), “The Bracken Fern: A Natural Born Killer?”, The Atlantic, available online (accessed 16 September 2025).

Wei-Haas, M., (2018), “5,300 Years Ago, Ötzi the Iceman Died. Now We Know His Last Meal”, National Geographic, available online (accessed 16 September 2025).

Endnotes:

1. Bast fibre (also called phloem fibre or skin fibre) is plant fibre collected from the phloem (the “inner bark”, sometimes called “skin”) or bast surrounding the stem of certain plants. Bast fibres are soft and flexible and some of the economically important ones are obtained from cultivated herbs, for instance flax, hemp, or ramie. Bast fibres from wild plants, such as stinging nettle, and trees such as lime or linden, willow, oak, wisteria, and mulberry have also been used.

On This Day: The Great Fire of London rages

September 2nd to 6th, 1666: The Great Fire rages across London destroying four-fifths of the city.

In the early hours of September 2nd, 1666, a fire had broken out in Thomas Farriner’s bakery in Pudding Lane, near London Bridge. At the time blazes were fairly common, which might explain the Lord Mayor of London’s reaction (right). Unfortunately for Sir Thomas and his fellow Londoners a long, hot, dry summer had turned the city’s largely wooden infrastructure into a tinderbox. Within hours 300 houses had been consumed and the fire had spread rapidly, whipped up by a strong easterly wind. Flames leapt easily from one timber-framed building to the next as the fire blazed through London’s narrow warren of streets. Efforts to fight the fire using buckets of water soon failed compelling many people to flee onto the River Thames or out to Hampstead and Moorfields.

By September 3rd, the city’s residents were in despair as the conflagration continued its inexorable spread. Scapegoating began almost immediately with rumours proliferating amid the chaos accusing (wrongly) Dutch and French residents of arson. Xenophobic attacks soon followed. That night brought little respite and as the fire crept eastward, there was genuine fear that the gunpowder stores in the Tower of London would be ignited. Diarist Samuel Pepys (pictured), overcome by witnessing his city’s destruction, wrote: “it made me weep to see it.”

As an aside, we know from his famous diary that on the morning of Tuesday September 4th, Pepys was rudely woken by a servant telling him to get up and get out of his house because the fire was fast approaching his home in Seething Lane on Tower Hill, near to the Tower of London. According to that day’s diary entry Pepys was “[u]p by break of day to get away the remainder of my things; which I did by a lighter at the Iron gate and my hands so few, that it was the afternoon before we could get them all away.” He managed to get most of his belongings to Bethnal Green and safety on September 3rd, but not everything. Pepys’ diary reads:

“…the fire coming on in that narrow streete, on both sides, with infinite fury. Sir W. Batten [1] not knowing how to remove his wine, did dig a pit in the garden, and laid it in there; and I took the opportunity of laying all the papers of my office that I could not otherwise dispose of. And in the evening Sir W. Pen and I did dig another, and put our wine in it; and I my Parmazan cheese, as well as my wine and some other things.”

Some today may wonder why Pepys buried his cheese. The simple answer is that in the 17th-century Parmesan cheese was worth a great deal of money. Even today, it is still pretty valuable. There are reportedly over 300,000 wheels of Parmesan cheese stored in bank vaults in Italy, which are worth over $200 million. Parmesan cheese takes so long to mature that they’re held as collateral against loans to assist the cheesemakers’ cash flow. Cheese is practically a currency. Sadly, the fate of Pepys’ cheese remains unknown, though his diaries describing the incident remain. As far as we know it was never recovered and could still be buried in the garden of Seething Lane just waiting to be found.

Despite the demolition of houses to create firebreaks, on September 4th half of London was burning. King Charles II and his brother, the Duke of York, joined the firefighting efforts but the conflagration overwhelmed all attempts to contain it. That evening the city’s cathedral, St Paul’s, was engulfed in flames. As its roof melted, flowing off in a torrent of molten lead, the building collapsed. It was not until September 6th, the fifth day of the Great Fire, that the flames were brought under control. Just one-fifth of London remained untouched. More than 87 parish churches, 13,000 homes and numerous civic buildings had been destroyed. Hundreds of thousands of Londoners were left homeless but remarkably only six deaths were recorded.

One positive outcome emerged, in the long term at least: the Great Fire had razed the city’s most overcrowded, disease-ridden quarters. While Christopher Wren’s ambitious plans to replace London narrow streets with wide boulevards (as a form of fire prevention) never came to fruition, his masterpiece, the reborn St Paul’s Cathedral, stands today as a testament to the city’s resilience. Meanwhile, the Monument was erected in Pudding Lane to commemorate the Great Fire of September 1666.

References:

Bird, D. (2024), “The Great Fire of London rages” in Anniversaries, BBC History magazine, September 2024 edition, pp. 8-9.

Oxbow Books blog, (2017), “Why did Samuel Pepys bury his cheese, and other pressing questions?”, available online (accessed 12 January 2025).

Gyford, P., (2025), “The Diary of Samuel Pepys: Tuesday 4 September 1666”, www.pepysdiary.com, available online (accessed 12 January 2025).

Endnote:

1. Sir William Batten was Master of Trinity House and Surveyor of the Navy. The Corporation of Trinity House was incorporated by Royal Charter in 1514 to regulate pilotage on the River Thames and provide for aged mariners. The Corporation’s mandate has expanded considerably since then. Today it is the UK’s largest-endowed maritime charity, the General Lighthouse Authority (GLA) for England, Wales, the Channel Islands and Gibraltar and a fraternity of men and women selected from across the nation’s maritime sector.

On This Day: Britain’s shortest ever war

August 27th, 1896: The Anglo-Zanzibar War was fought on this day and remains the shortest conflict in history. It lasted forty-four minutes.

At 11:40 AM two days earlier (25 August 1896), the fifth Sultan of Zanzibar, Sayyid Hamad bin Thuwaini Al-Busa'id [1] suddenly died. He was almost certainly poisoned by his cousin Prince Sayyid Khalid bin Barghash Al-Busa'id who seized control of Beit al-Hukm Palace and proclaimed himself the new Sultan. This irked the British since the agreement establishing Zanzibar as a protectorate of the Empire (on 14 June 1890) meant succession had to be approved by the British consul. Khalid had not fulfilled this requirement and, moreover, Britain’s preferred successor was the more compliant Sayyid Hamoud bin Mohammed Al-Busa'id.

Determined to retain control over the strategically significant East African archipelago, which would allow them to enforce their policies such as the abolition of slavery, the British reacted swiftly. Khalid’s action was the casus belli Britain needed to issue an ultimatum demanding Prince Khalid order his forces to stand down and leave the palace. The ultimatum was delivered by Rear Admiral Harry Rawson of the Royal Navy (RN): surrender by 09:00 am or face military action. Khalid’s response was to mobilise his palace guard and barricade himself inside the Beit al Hukum Palace. Together with the Sultan’s palace guard, the defenders comprised around 2,800 Zanzibaris, mostly recruited from the civilian population, and several hundred of his servants and slaves. The Zanzibaris positioned several artillery pieces and machine guns in front of the palace sighted at the RN’s ships.

The British had gathered two cruisers, three gunboats, 150 marines and sailors, and 900 pro-Anglo Zanzibaris [2] in the harbour area so, with the ultimatum expired, at 09:02 am Rawson’s warships immediately bombarded the palace setting the palace on fire and disabling the defending artillery. Around the same time a small naval action took place, with the British sinking the Zanzibari royal yacht HHS Glasgow and two smaller vessels. Some shots were also fired ineffectually at the pro-British Zanzibari troops as they approached the palace. After causing extensive damage to the palace, the Zanzibari flag flying from the roof was shot down and the bombardment ceased at 09:46 am. Khalid’s forces were overwhelmed, and 500 casualties were sustained. Just one British sailor was seriously injured during the brief skirmish.

Khalid fled to seek sanctuary in the German Consulate before escaping to German East Africa (in the mainland part of present-day Tanzania). Hamoud was quickly installed as the new sultan later that day and pledged to honour British demands on Zanzibar. This fleeting but decisive altercation marked the end of the Sultanate of Zanzibar as a sovereign state and the start of Britain’s entrenched dominance in the region that persisted well into the 20th-century.

Bon appétit! 

Reference:

Bird, D.. (2024), Q&A: “What was the shortest war in history?”, BBC History Magazine (September 2024), London: Immediate Media Company, p. 49. 

Endnotes:

1. Sayyid Hamad bin Thuwaini Al-Busaidi (Arabic: حمد بن ثويني البوسعيدي) (c. 1857 – 25 August 1896) was the fifth Sultan of Zanzibar. He ruled Zanzibar from 5 March 1893 until his death on 25 August 1896.

2. The pro-Anglo Zanzibaris were commanded by Brigadier-General Lloyd Mathews of the Zanzibar army, who was also the First Minister of Zanzibar.