The Third Crusade: an Early Mishap at Lyon, 10 July 1190

by Charlene Newcomb

King Richard I

When Richard became King of England in 1189 the pilgrimage to the Holy Land to free Jerusalem became his top priority. After his coronation, Richard set the kingdom in order and raised monies to support the undertaking. Richard’s fleet sailed towards Gibraltar intending to meet him in Marseille. His army of pilgrims – or crusaders, as we refer to them now – gathered in Tours in the spring of 1190. By early July, Richard and King Philip of France concluded discussions at Vézelay setting the conditions of their cooperation.

From Vézelay, the pilgrims marched south towards Lyon. Contemporary chroniclers describe the locals’ reactions and the grandeur of the armies, thousands strong. The discipline of the soldiers impressed them. “Who could stand against their force? What a beautiful company, what handsome youths!” Ambroise and the author of the Itinerarium claim the English and French troops numbered near 100,000 – a huge exaggeration. We can only estimate the actual numbers. Author David Miller suggests that when the army began its coastal march south from Acre in August 1191, the French and English forces numbered approximately 1,600 knights and over 14,000 foot soldiers.

On the 10th of July in 1190, Richard and Philip arrived in Lyon. The mishap here on the River Rhône – early in the crusade timeline – could have proven disastrous. In his Annals, Roger de Hoveden writes,

When they had arrived at the city of Lyons on the Rhone, after they with the greater part of their households had passed over the bridge across that river, the bridge, being thronged with men and women, broke down, not without doing injury to great numbers. Here also the two kings separated…

A second account of the incident comes from Ambroise. He describes the scene as utter chaos. Hundreds of people, animals, and wagons plummeted into the rapidly-raging river:

But those who in the morning passed?
Crowded the bridge so thick and fast?
Misfortune did them overtake.
For one span of the bridge did break
Because of the waters treacherous,
Swollen so high and perilous.
For weight of men more than an hundred
O’ertaxed the pine arch till it sundered;
The arch fell and they tumbled in,
And there were shouting, groans and din…

The Itinerarium mentions that the bridge was extremely high, the drop to the river below far enough that many could have died. Onlookers raced to pull victims from the swift current. Incredibly, the chroniclers report that only two people died. Were the numbers underreported, reflecting only those of noble birth? Many historians suggest only "important" deaths were recorded, and therefore, we will never know the true death toll.

De Hoveden has no further comment on the aftermath of the bridge collapse. None of the accounts reflect whether King Richard witnessed the incident, but the Itinerarium describes those who had not yet crossed the river as “at wit’s end.” None wanted to be left behind. The chronicler claims Richard oversaw the construction of a floating bridge built of boats lashed together. The king would have read of the idea in De Re Militari, a treatise of military principles and practices written by Publius Falvius Vegetius Renatus. Amboise does not mention the bridge of boats, but writes that small skiffs were used to ferry people to the opposite riverbank. Both accounts indicate the incident delayed the march south by three days.

What gives one pause is that one month earlier and two thousand miles away, the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa met his fate at the Saleph River in Turkey. His horse slipped and Frederick fell into the river and drowned. It was a devastating blow for his followers, only one-third to one-quarter of whom – perhaps 5,000 men – continued on to the Holy Land. During the siege of Acre, these troops reported to Duke Leopold of Austria, a man who would become King Richard’s bitter enemy.

What if the Lionheart had been on the bridge when it collapsed and had died at Lyon? Would Richard’s forces have been thrown into disarray as Barbarossa’s had? Would Philip of France have forsaken the pilgrimage to pursue his desires to regain French territory and to remove the Angevins from the continent? Christians besieging Acre would have been left without reinforcements. They were in dire straits, having suffered repeated attacks by Saladin’s forces. It is likely the siege of Acre would have failed. Acre, other coastal towns, and Jerusalem would remain in Muslim hands. The Third Crusade might not have been.

Sources 

Ambroise. (1976). The crusade of Richard Lion-Heart. (Trans. by M.J. Hubert.) New  York: Octagon.

De Hoveden, R. (1853).  The annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn. (Original work published 1201?)

Miller, D. (2003). Richard the Lionheart: the mighty crusader. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

Nicholson, H., & Stubbs, W., trans. (1997). Chronicle of the third crusade : A translation of the itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis ricardi. Aldershot, Hants, England ; Brookfield, Vt.: Ashgate.

Painting of Richard I by Merry-Joseph Blondel. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

An earlier version of this post was originally published at http://charlenenewcomb.com/2014/07/10/10-july-1190-the-bridge-on-the-river-rhone/ , and published on EHFA on July 9, 2015.

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Charlene Newcomb is the author of the Battle Scars series, 12th century historical fiction filled with war, political intrigue, and a knightly romance of forbidden love set during the reign of Richard the Lionheart. She is currently working on a new medieval tale set during King John’s reign; and in summer 2020 will publish Echoes of the Storm, a sci fi/space opera filled with rebels and traitors and battles and romance in a galaxy far, far away (no, not Star Wars). Sign up for Char’s Newsletter for exclusives, including a free short story, and other special offers. Find her books on Amazon & connect with Char on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

The Three Destinations of the Medieval Pilgrim

By April Munday

In the Middle Ages the top three destinations for pilgrims were Jerusalem, Rome and Santiago de Compostela, in that order of importance. For the English, a pilgrimage abroad was never an easy thing to undertake and wars, thieves and bandits made it even more difficult.

St James the Great by Georges de la Tour

Jerusalem and Rome were top of the list for obvious reasons, but why was Compostela the third? Compostela is in Galicia, in northern Spain, and is a little less than fifty miles from Cape Finisterre, which the Romans thought was the edge of the world.

The cathedral at Compostela is said to contain the remains of St James the Great, believed to be the first apostle to be martyred. One of the legends about St James is that he preached in Spain, before returning to Judea where he was martyred by being beheaded on the orders of Herod Agrippa in 44 AD. His remains were then transported from Judea to Spain in a rudderless, stone boat guided by angels. Santiago is the Galician form of St James.

There were earlier churches on the site, but the current cathedral of St James was built between 1060 and 1140.

Technically a pilgrim’s journey began with the first step and then he (or she) could follow whichever route he wanted to the shrine which was his goal. In reality this was not very practical, since he needed to pass through somewhere where he could get food fairly often. As long as he was on a route frequented by merchants, this was not a problem, as there were inns at regular intervals along the way.  Where the routes did not coincide the pilgrim could expect hospitality, or at least some kind of shelter for the night, from monasteries. Where there were neither inns nor monasteries there were often hospices. These were built by monks to assist pilgrims and there was a great need for them on the routes to Compostela. Most of these hospices were built by the Cluniacs.

There were four main routes across France and pilgrims from the north, east and south gathered at the four towns where those routes started and travelled, usually in the company of others, into Spain.  
Each route started in and went through towns containing important shrines. The route that started in Paris went through Orléans, Tours, Poitiers, St-Jean-d’Angély, Saintes and Bordeaux. The one from Vézelay (where the supposed tombs of Mary Magdalene and Lazarus were to be found) went through Bourges, St-Léonard-de-Noblat, Limoges and Périgueux. From Le Puy the route went through Conques and Moissac, before joining the first two routes at St-Jean-Pied-de-port at the foot of the Pyrenees. The final route went from Arles through St-Gilles, St-Guilhem-le-Désert, Castres, Toulouse, Auch, Oloron, the Somport Pass and Jaca before joining the other routes in Puente la Reina.

This meant that English pilgrims were presented with a huge amount of choice, depending on where they crossed the Channel. It was possible to sail from Bristol to La Coruña which meant a walk of approximately forty miles to get to Compostela once they were in Spain. This might sound like an easy option, but the Bay of Biscay was known for its storms and there was also the possibility of falling prey to wreckers or pirates (English, French or Castilian). It would entail travelling on a small ship for at least five days, usually much longer, in cramped and uncertain conditions. Generally passengers each had enough room to stretch out and sleep, but no more.

If a longer walk was required, the pilgrim could sail to Bordeaux which would allow him to complete his pilgrimage without going into territory held directly by the king of France, which might be the safest route during times of tension, if not outright war, with France. During more peaceful times, a shorter trip from Dover to Dieppe or Plymouth to Brittany might be preferred, which would mean the pilgrim walking the length of France before reaching Spain. If they sailed from Dover, they probably spent a night in the Pilgrim’s Hall at Aylesford Friary on their way through Kent.

The Pilgrims' Hall

It took about six months to walk from Paris to Compostela and back again. Pilgrims travelling overland faced wolves, bandits, fever, rivers that were not easy to cross, mountains and, in the early day, Moors. On the plus side, there were plenty of shrines along the route where they might pray and see miracles.

From the 1370s on most English pilgrims travelled by sea to Galicia since they were not permitted to cross Castile without the permission of the king of France.  Since the Hundred Years’ War was going through one of its more violent patches at this time, that permission was never going to be forthcoming. As the French gained more and more territory that had belonged to the English crown, English pilgrims had little choice but to travel by sea.

Pilgrims travelled with the hope of seeing, or touching, the relic of the saint. Some even broke or bit off part of the relic to take home with them. Clerics were particularly prone to this. This led to the construction of shrines and reliquaries to protect relics, but the pilgrims merely tried to take back bits of the shrines and reliquaries as souvenirs. 

At most shrines pilgrims could leave offerings of wax models which reflected the reason for their pilgrimage. This was not permitted when they reached Santiago.  Only money and jewellery were acceptable offerings. 

The eleventh century was a time of peace across Europe, allowing pilgrims to travel overland even to Jerusalem.  It was almost a golden age of pilgrimage. Hospices were built along the routes to Santiago and bridges were repaired. It is said that around half a million people a year went to Compostela in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.

There were pilgrim guidebooks, describing the route to be followed. The earliest known guidebook covering the route to Compostela was written by Aymery Picaud, a French monk, in the twelfth century. He detailed the stages of the journey starting from the Gascon side of the Pyrenees.  The book recommends shrines to be visited and describes things to be seen along the way. There is also a description of the cathedral which is the object of the journey. For good measure he tells some precautionary tales about the fates of people who tried to hinder or did not help pilgrims on their way to Santiago. A weaver, for example, did not give bread to a pilgrim and later found the cloth he had been working on torn in half and thrown on the ground. Picaud and, presumably, the weaver, attributed the act of vengeance to St James. We, however, might suspect that the perpetrator was someone other than the saint.

Travelling to Compostela from England was not cheap. Although there were hospices where he could expect to be accommodated for free, the pilgrim needed enough money to buy food, and to pay for accommodation in inns. A pilgrim could beg or work in order to gain the money, but most preferred to leave home with the requisite amount.

Once he reached Compostela, the pilgrim would purchase his cockleshell token, attach it to his tunic or hat (as modelled by St James in the picture at the top of the post), and return home.

Images:

Portrait of St James the Great by Georges de la Tour in the Public Domain

Pilgrim’s Hall, Aylesford – Author’s Own

References:

The Age of Pilgrimage – Jonathan Sumption

Pilgrimages to St James of Compostela from the British Isles during the Middle Ages – Robert Brian Tate

Power and Profit: The Merchant in Medieval Europe – Peter Spufford

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April Munday lives in Hampshire and has published a number of novels set in the fourteenth and early nineteenth centuries. They include Beloved Besieged, The Traitor’s Daughter, His Ransom, The Winter Love and the Regency Spies Trilogy. They can be purchased from Amazon 

Her blog ‘A Writer’s Perspective’ (www.aprilmunday.wordpress.com) arose from her research for her novels and is a repository of things that she has found to be of interest. She can also be found on Twitter.

Oh, Jerusalem! The Ultimate Medieval Pilgrimage

by Helena P. Schrader

Church of the Holy Sepulcher as it is Today*

Throughout the medieval period, the city in which Christ had been crucified and resurrected remained the holiest of cities and so the ultimate pilgrimage site. Particularly during the 88 years in which the city was in Christian hands, tens of thousands of Christian pilgrims flocked to the Holy Land each year to pray at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and visit the other sites associated with the life of Jesus. Thousands of Englishmen and women made that pilgrimage, whether as “armed pilgrims” (i.e. crusaders) or as simple pilgrims (religious tourists.)  What would they have found? What follows is a description of Jerusalem as it would have been just before it was captured by Saladin.

The Countryside to the East of Jerusalem Today

The Holy City of Jerusalem crowns a hill in semi-arid, hilly countryside and was in crusader times encircled by tall, white-stone walls punctuated with square towers, seven gates and at least three, possibly more, posterns.  To the east, south and west the slope fell away sharply, but to the north the land was fairly level. There were olive orchards dating back to the time of Christ to the East, and in the crusader period the city was probably surrounded by other kinds of orchards as well. Common at this time were citrus orchards, but figs, dates, and almonds were also cultivated to serve the urban population. Almost certainly, there were also vineyards surrounding Jerusalem during the Christian period as wine was an important product of the kingdom, necessary for the liturgy and consumed in large quantities locally.

Picture of Jerusalem’s Walls

Life within crusader Jerusalem would have been exceptionally pleasant for the period. When the first crusaders took the city by storm in 1099 they carried out a massacre of the garrison and population that — while not as apocalyptic as often portrayed — left the city largely depopulated. The policy of not allowing any Muslims or Jews to live in the Holy City further reduced the population. The early kings of Jerusalem were compelled to invite Christian settlers not just from the West but from Syria as well.  Still the population never fully recovered and is estimated to have been no more than ca. 20,000 people in the second half of the 12^th century. In consequence, Jerusalem was not densely populated and there were gardens and open spaces inside the walled city.

A Roof-top Garden in Jerusalem Today

Starting with life at the top, the religious and secular authorities both maintained palaces in Jerusalem. The patriarch’s palace was located beside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and unfortunately nothing is now left of it.  The royal family initially occupied the powerful citadel, whose oldest tower allegedly dated back to the reign of the biblical King David. However, they began construction of a “modern” palace in the first quarter of the 12^th century. Although this too has been lost to us, contemporary accounts mention that the royal palace had extensive gardens. Since it was started by King Fulk of Anjou, it was probably inspired by similar to the palaces he was familiar with in France in this period — think of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s magnificent residence in Poitiers, for example, but it would have had “Eastern” elements of design and landscaping as well.

Citadel of David — the “Old Palace”

The gardens, for example, would have included palms, citrus fruits, pomegranates and other distinctive Mediterranean vegetation, such as oleander and hibiscus. More important, this palace (like the Patriarch's) was not a fortress intended for defense (as castles in Western Europe), but rather had a purely residential and representational character. There was no need for narrow, “arrow-slit” windows or massive walls. On the contrary, the crusader states had major glass-making centers, notably at Beirut and Tyre, and glazed windows were quite common, certainly among the upper classes. So the royal and patriarchal palaces would not have been dark, dingy and smoky, as in the castles depicted in Hollywood, but rather sunny, well-lit and designed with cross-ventilation for cooling in the summers. The use of mosaic and tile floors would, furthermore, have been inherited from their predecessors (and most of the houses in Jerusalem were taken over in-tact after the Christians seized control), as was the use of slender columns, often dating from the Roman period.  

A description of John d’Ibein’s palace in Beirut dating from 1212, for example, mentions mosaic floors so lifelike the observer was afraid of leaving his foot-print in the “sand” and polychrome marble walls as well as fountains and gardens. It offered splendid views of the sea as well — so large windows.  While John’s residence was built half a century later, it was also the home of a mere nobleman rather than a king. I think we can assume the royal palace of the Jerusalem and also the Patriarch’s palace were both very luxurious indeed.

Tiles Walls Today

Besides these two main palaces, Jerusalem housed the headquarters of the Knights Templar on the Temple Mount and the headquarters of the Knight’s Hospitaller, a huge establishment that took up a large city block and enclosed four churches, wards for over two thousand patients, a hospice for pilgrims, administrative buildings, barracks, kitchens etc. These complexes were large, multi-story stone buildings, again with glazed windows, courtyards, and sanitation. The accommodation for the Master and senior officers of these powerful orders would hardly have been less luxurious than for the king and patriarch.

Temple Mount Today: 

The hexagonal building on the left was a Baptistry from Crusader Times. On the right: The "Dome of the Rock" which in Crusader Jerusalem was converted into a church and known as the Temple of God

There were also lesser palaces for nobles and wealthy merchants.  The foundations of these houses in some cases dated back to the Roman period, and many were Byzantine or Fatimid since the capture of Jerusalem had not entailed whole scale destruction of the architectural substance. Arab sources stress that even when they re-took Jerusalem in 1187 (after a siege that did entail the use of stone throwers and mining), they still found many beautiful residences with “superb columns of marble and slabs of marble and mosaics in large quantities.” (Ibn al-Athir) Much of this ornamentation would have pre-dated the Christian period, but not all of it. Certainly, many churches were built and/or re-decorated in the crusader period and many of the craftsmen came from or were trained in Constantinople or by Byzantine masters. Undoubtedly some of these craftsmen also found employment on secular as well as sacred building projects.

   Houses with Medieval Features in Jerusalem Today

Life in any medieval Christian city was, of course, characterized by the pervasive presence of the Church and nowhere — except possibly in Rome — was the Church more important than in Jerusalem. There was not just the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Calvary Chapel, but dozens of churches catering to different Christian communities, Syrian and Armenian, Greek and Maronite, as well as the Latins. There were also the two great mosques on the Temple Mount which had been converted into churches, as well as the austere but lovely Church of St. Anne (below) and many more. 

As for the bulk of the population, while accommodation would have ranged from the comfortable to the squalid as in any city in the world, nevertheless, this being an ancient, eastern city, it was well supplied with public cisterns, reservoirs, and baths. Indeed, most of the buildings in Jerusalem at this time had rain-fed cisterns to supplement the municipal water supply.  There was also a network of open and covered markets. The covered markets are particularly intriguing and parts are still standing today. They were like tunnels, often running almost the entire width of the city, with vaulted ceilings and flanked by shop after shop. The paved walkway between the shops had steps to accommodate the slope and were not suitable for horses.

Covered Market in Jerusalem

Due to the annual pilgrim traffic, Jerusalem was also a city with many hostels and taverns, and the shops of the city would have catered to pilgrims by selling all the "exotic" things pilgrims sought from relics to silk and Turkish carpets. They would have sold all the necessities for everyday living  as well: shoes, textiles, candles and soap, for example. The city had separate markets for grain, pigs, poultry, fish, herbs and spices. It had quarters for the jewelers, gold and silver smiths, for textile goods, leather goods, glass, and weapons. My favorite is the “street of bad cooking,” which was apparently a medieval precursor of “food courts” for “fast food.”

Another Street Scene in Modern Jerusalem

Last but not least, the streets must have been a veritable “tower of Babel” with the native population speaking Arabic, Greek, Armenian and French, while pilgrims came from the far corners of the earth speaking Norse, English, Spanish, Italian, Hungarian, German and more.

* All photos in this entry were taken by the author in 2014.

Jerusalem is the setting for many key scenes in the first two books in Helena Schrader’s three part biography of Balian d’Ibelin, Knight of Jerusalem and Defender of Jerusalem. You can find out more about Crusader Jerusalem at http://defenderofjerusalem.com and about Helena Schrader’s books at: http://helenapschrader.com.

The Pilgrimage

~ Scott Higginbotham

The ideal of the medieval pilgrimage is nothing new, for it is a spiritual and physical journey that has deeper roots.  The physical site itself may be the object of veneration, because it may be where a saint was martyred or where certain relics are contained.  What better place to go than the very spot where history was made by way of a martyr’s death?
 
Along those same lines, there may have been reports that the site is a hub of spiritual blessings or the miraculous, thus drawing the throngs.  Or, the act may be the fulfillment of penance or perhaps a vow made to secure divine favor. 

There were perceptions that spiritual blessings would only be conferred within a set of physical boundaries, which hearkens back to the gods being localized – think of river gods having power only in a certain area.  “For pilgrimages properly so called are made to the places where the gods or heroes were born or wrought some great action or died, or to the shrines where the deity had already signified it to be his pleasure to work wonders. Once theophanies are localized, pilgrimages necessarily follow.” [1]   

Whatever the motivations, pilgrimages and wandering hermits were popular, so much so, that they appeared in the works of medieval writers. William Langland writes in the Prologue to Piers Plowman:

In a summer season when the sun was mild
I clad myself in clothes as I'd become a sheep;
In the habit of a hermit unholy of works,
Walked wide in this world, watching for wonders.

An early English balled from Sir Isumbras gives readers a unique insight into the difficulties faced by wayfaring pilgrims, having nothing in their purse and having to beg for their food:

For they bare with hem nothynge
That longed to here spendynge,
   Nother golde nor fee,
But for to begge here mete
Where they myghte ony gete,
   For love of seynt charyté. [2]


Geoffrey Chaucer popularized and parodied the ideal of a pilgrimage in The Canterbury Tales and, it is through him that many have become familiar with pilgrimages.  The shrine of Canterbury was England’s most popular pilgrimage site, owing to Thomas Becket’s martyrdom in the northwest transept on December 29th, 1170.  Reports of healing miracles brought throngs of pilgrims, happy to share the contents of their purses. This surge in income allowed for many upgrades and improvements to the cathedral, but only to have Henry VIII enter the scene and confiscate its treasures.

Canterbury Cathedral - Public Domain from Wikimedia Commons

But is it only just the physical destination that draws pilgrims of old and even modern ones?  Or is it the physical act, the journey itself, which has the appeal?  Perhaps both?  Imagine the mystique and adventure of packing a few belongings, tying up loose ends, and grabbing a wooden staff for a long trek of self-discovery.  Spiritual journeys such as these are oftentimes turning points for real and imagined characters. 

Henry II was stricken with anguish over his ill-spoken words that resulted in Becket’s death - so much so that he made his own pilgrimage to the shrine and did his best to set affairs aright.  Simon de Montfort made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and was overcome with emotion at his first view of Jerusalem’s sandstone walls.  These notables are what make the study of history and historical novels such a gem to read, for their deepest desires for redemption make them so much like us.

I made my own pilgrimage and received a Pilgrim’s Certificate at the conclusion of a tour of Jerusalem and Bethlehem.  I wore no floppy hat, nor held a weathered wooden staff in my hand; in fact, I was clean shaven in a military fashion.  But the moment I saw those same walls that countless others have gazed upon, I had the distinct sense that the raw emotion and overwhelming sense of belonging to some small part of history, as a result of pilgrimage, would never be forgotten.  History, historical novels, and even pilgrimages allow us travel to another time and place, but they also allow us to bring something back.

Jerusalem from the Garden of Gethsemane - by Scott Higginbotham

A Soul’s Ransom

Scott Higginbotham writes under the name Scott Howard and is the author of A Soul’s Ransom, a novel set in the fourteenth century where William de Courtenay’s mettle is tested, weighed, and refined, and For a Thousand Generations where Edward Leaver navigates a world where his purpose is defined with an eye to the future.  His new release, A Matter of Honor, is a direct sequel to For a Thousand Generations.  It is within Edward Leaver's well-worn boots that Scott travels the muddy tracks of medieval England.

Relic in the Valley

AT the time of the crucifixion, when darkness swallowed the world, a great earthquake struck the Vale of Ewyas, ripping a chunk from the side of the mountain above Cwmiou.

Today, nestled among ash, alder and beech, the church of St. Martin seems to erupt from the undergrowth, the gravestones heaving and swaying in waves of bending grass. From the top of the graveyard, where the ancient stones stagger like an old man’s teeth, it looks as if the church has come to life and is lumbering off down the hill. And the feeling of disorientation does not end when you push open the heavy oak door and step inside.

The silence swallows you, the aroma of mildew and a thousand years of Christian faith seep from yellow internal walls that twist and buckle like a living thing making your feet run off of their own accord as you progress along the Welsh flag-stoned aisle. As your brain battles to make sense of the odd angles it is uncannily like being aboard ship. I expect you are wondering why.

The name 'Cwmiou' or 'Cwmyoy' translates as ‘the valley of the yoke’ and refers to the shape of the mountain above, which resembles an oxen’s yoke.

The nature of the geology of the Honddu valley has caused the land to slowly shift and slide and it is this land slippage, upon which the church was built, that has endowed St Martin’s with its matchless charm.

There are no right angles at St Martin’s, the tower lurches north (5. 2” out of perpendicular), while the chancel arch and east window tilt alarmingly to the right. Consequently it confuses the mind, confounds the senses but there are other reasons besides this, for visiting.

The church itself is a simple structure, consisting of nave, chancel, tower and porch dating from the 13^th to 16^th centuries. An original 15-16th century window bears some wonderful scrollwork and a small stone stairway in the chancel leads to the remains of a rood loft, which was destroyed during the Reformation. (Just a little drive up the road at St Issui’s church at Patricio there is a superb example of a 15^th century rood loft and screen that you should really not miss if you ever make this journey.)

19^th century restoration work saw some of the windows at St Martin’s replaced and it is believed that the plaster ceilings were removed at that time, but some examples of the original survives in the porch. To prevent further slippage the church is now buttressed at the west end and large iron stays were added in the 1960’s.

 The church houses examples of the work of the Brute family, master masons from Llanbedr, who were active from the 1720s through to the 1840s. Thomas, Aaron and John Brute worked in a distinctive style of artisan Rococo and there are a fine collection of tombstones and memorials in this local tradition. Some examples are painted as well as carved, the fat little cherubs surrounded by Rococo wreaths of leaves and flowers.

Look out for some memorable epitaphs too, like the one on the grave of Thomas Price, who died in 1682.

Thomas Price he takes his nap

In our common mother lap

Waiting to heare the Bridegroome say

“Awake my dear and come away.”

Also of interest at St Martin’s is a medieval stone cross that was dug up on a nearby farm in the 19^th century. The cross is believed to be post-Norman, possibly a copy from an earlier cross or the design taken from a manuscript. It may well have been a cross marking the pilgrim’s route along the valley to Brecon and on to the cathedral at St David’s. The font is also early medieval and the marks of the mason’s chisel still plainly to be seen.

In this area of unspoiled medieval churches Cwmiou would be unremarkable were it not for its structural irregularities. I have never experienced a building like it and it really is an experience.

The journey to Cwmiou is a pilgrimage in itself. Although it is not far from the busy market town of Abergavenny, you will need to watch out for stray sheep as you drive through sleepy hamlets and along corkscrewing, almost perpendicular lanes and, as the sunlight flickers through the trees and you turn the last bend and glimpse the staggering walls of St Martin’s peeking from the woods, you will know in that instant that you were right to come.