A ditch known as the Malfosse is the second most famous geographic feature within the Battle of Hastings theatre of war, surpassed only by the battlefield hill. Its description in the contemporary accounts is good enough to pinpoint its exact location. In this paper we will explain the method we used to work it out. The analysis is extracted from our book about the location of the Battle of Hastings linked here.
Ditches near the battlefield are mentioned in seven primary sources, mostly as places where many Normans fell to their death while chasing the fleeing English at the end of the battle. There are twelve references in all:
We will return to Wace’s shield charge ditch (Statement 12) at the end because it is different from the rest. The other ten Statements and the Tapestry either refer to the English flight or to the English camp. The English could not have fled through the Normans lines, and they did not camp on the Norman side of the battlefield, so they refer to ditches that were located behind the shield wall, opposite to the direction of the Norman advance.
The first six Statements above are from translations of Latin manuscripts. Two of the original Latin passages refer to their ditch as a ‘fossa’ which usually means it is manmade – see note on dry ditches in next paragraph for some exceptions; one is referred to as a ‘precipitium’, meaning a precipice; another as a ‘fovea’, meaning a hollowed-out pit; one as a ‘voraginem’, meaning a chasm; the Chronicle of Battle Abbey refers the Malfosse as a ‘hiatus’ then as a ‘baratrum’, the former meaning a natural cleft in the earth, the latter meaning a deep precipitous pit. So, all these accounts say or imply that the fatal flight ditches are not fluvial.
There are other reasons to think that the fatal flight ditches are not fluvial. Firstly, none of them are referred to as a ‘vallis’ or ‘fauces’, the standard Latin words for a fluvial valley, ravine or gorge. Secondly, fluvial valleys are almost always too soft and insufficiently steep to cause serious harm. Small dry ditches and small trench-like streams are sometimes referred to as ‘fossa’, but they are too small and too soft to be dangerous. Thirdly, Poitiers and Orderic refer to the English fleeing through “a labyrinth of ditches”. Well, this is how Chibnall, Van Houts and others translate. The original Latin term is ‘frequentium’ meaning ‘frequent, numerous, or closely packed’. We translate the phrase to mean ‘cluster of ditches’, but it makes little difference here: rivers and streams are dendritic, they never form clusters or labyrinths of valleys.
Non-fluvial ditches might have a geological origin. The term hiatus used in the Chronicle of Battle Abbey to describe the Malfosse can refer geological faults, although the monk that wrote it would not have understood it in this way. Geological faults, unconformities, and discontinuities can create precipitous escarpments, gorges and ravines, but not in the theatre of war where the geology belongs to the Ashdown Formation, composed of mudstones, siltstones, sandstones, and clays. They are too soft to form escarpments or ravines. No such formations exist in the landscape today, and given their erosional nature, they deepen over time rather than fill. A geological origin for the fatal flight ditches therefore seems implausible.
If the Malfosse was non-fluvial and was not created by geological forces, it must have been dug by hand. The English were in the theatre of war for no more than a day before the battle, probably not long enough to dig one fatal ditch, let alone a cluster of them. And several accounts say that the pits were concealed by vegetation. If they had been recently dug, they would have been surrounded by newly made spoil ramparts that had not had time to grow vegetation.
The only credible origin for man-made ditches that are ‘immense’ as well as steep enough and deep enough to be fatal, and numerous enough to form a cluster or labyrinth, is mining. The Weald, which incorporates the theatre of war, was intensively mined for iron ore during the Roman occupation. It is surely the origin of the fatal flight ditches.
Iron ore mining would explain one more aspect of the contemporary account descriptions, namely that some of them say the fatal flight ditches were concealed by ramparts. Those ramparts would be the mine spoil, dumped around the rim of the excavations. Orderic says that the ramparts were already ‘ancient’ at the time of the battle and covered in ‘long grasses’, which is consistent with them having been Roman.
There might seem to be a flaw with all this. Running humans and trotting horses can stop almost instantly. Even if the fatal flight ditches were concealed by ramparts and vegetation, it seems implausible that more than a handful of horses and men would have toppled over the edge under their own momentum. This is presumably why Searle and Van Houts reckon that the Norman horses were galloping, but there is no evidence they were. Medieval Latin had no words for the different horse gaits. The Chronicle of Battle Abbey says they were ‘dissilirent’, ‘rushing’, Orderic says that they were ‘summopere currentes’, ‘moving at full speed’, which could mean ‘galloping’, but not necessarily. Eleventh century war horses were sturdy ponies, bred for strength and endurance not speed. They were only chasing men on foot. They had no need to gallop, and it is difficult to believe they could have been coaxed to do so after having carried an armoured rider for eleven hours. Thus, the Norman horses and men should have had plenty of time to stop if they saw those in front fall into a pit.
In our opinion, the fatalities were caused by masses of men and horses rushing up and over ramparts around the rims of the fatal flight ditches, not realising that the downslope on the other side was already full, thereby inadvertently shunting those at the front over the edge.
The theatre of war is peppered with at least 250 iron ore pits. Most of them look totally benign today, saucer shaped and no more than waist deep in the middle, but they have been mollified by hill-wash infill and slumping of the previously vertical sides. They were originally perhaps 2m to 3m deep, but still unlikely to inflict an injury worse than a sprained ankle. Our interest here is in the pits that might be fatal, meaning those that are big, deep and originally precipitous. There are some fifty of these in the theatre of war. We will use two more clues to narrow down the candidates.
One key identification clue, mentioned by Poitiers and Orderic in Statements 5 and 6 above, is that the Malfosse was among a cluster of pits. There are only seven clusters of deep iron ore pits in the theatre of war, namely North Sedlescombe (S on Figure 2), Whatlington (W), Beauport Park (BP), Cottage Lane (CL), Pett (P), Guestling Thorn (G) and Forge Stream (F). Readers can verify this for themselves by checking a LiDAR map. The NLS LiDAR map is here. Our LiDAR map of the theatre of war is here. More than a thousand people have searched it for other clusters of iron ore pits. None have been found.
Some of these pit clusters can be discounted using a second clue: the Chronicle of Battle Abbey’s statement that the Malfosse was adjacent to the battlefield and on the route that the English fled.
For anyone with only a passing interest in the battle, this is an opportune time to introduce the other battlefield candidates. We were not the first to realise that the orthodox Battle Abbey battlefield (A on Figure 2) has no reliable supporting evidence while having many contradictions against the contemporary account battlefield descriptions. As long ago and the 1990s, Nick Austin proposed that the battle was fought on Telham Hill (T), aka Crowhurst, then John Grehan and Martin Mace proposed Caldbec Hill (CH). Over recent years, Rebecca Welshman and Simon Coleman proposed Old Heathfield, five miles west of the Figure 2 map, then David Barmby proposed Crowhurst Park (C), aka Blackhorse Hill.
All six of the battlefield candidates are contingent upon the Normans attacking from the south. The English would therefore have been trying to flee north, albeit perhaps circuitously, to the safety of the Andredsweald and the Rochester Roman road. The most natural strategy would have been to flee into the nearest woodland, where the Norman horses, lances and archers would be less potent, then make their way north.
These criteria are inconsistent with the clusters of pits at Pett, Guestling Thorn, Forge Stream and Cottage Lane because: a) They are not north of a battlefield candidate; or b) They are on the northern bank of a river across which the English could not have fled.
In principle, the English might have fled towards Whatlington from the orthodox Battle Abbey battlefield or from Caldbec Hill because it was at the only ford over the River Line on the way to Cripps Corner and the Rochester Roman road. But the Whatlington pit cluster is 4km and 3km distant respectively from these battlefield candidates which is too far for them to have been ‘where the fighting was going on’, and the Normans could not have fallen into Whatlington’s iron ore pits anyway because they opened onto the Whatlington byway at Woodman’s Green. The English would not have retarded their escape by unnecessarily choosing to cross iron ore pits, so the chasing Normans would have had no reason to fall in.
Beauport Park’s mine cluster is at the end of a branch off the Rochester Roman road. If the battle had been fought at Telham Hill or Crowhurst Park, the English would have fled in that direction and the Normans might have fallen in, but it seems implausible that they did. For one thing, at 1200m those pits are also too far from ‘where the fighting was going on’ which makes them inconsistent with the Chronicle of Battle Abbey. For another, Austin and Barmby’s theories are both predicated on the Hastings Ridge being covered in impenetrable woodland that forced the Normans to attack from the most disadvantageous direction. But if the Hastings Ridge was covered in impenetrable woodland, the English would not have been able flee through it to get to Beauport Park, and the Normans would not have been able to chase.
For anyone interested in the detail, we discuss the merits of orthodox Battle Abbey battlefield in Part 2 of our book, linked above, and of the alternative battlefield location theories here.
By a process of elimination, north Sedlescombe is the only cluster of deep precipitous-sided iron ore pits that are adjacent to a battlefield candidate and in the direction the English would have fled. It has six pits that are big enough, deep enough and precipitous enough (at the time) to have been fatal. The challenge is to identify which of the contemporary account descriptions applies to which pit.
We will discount the huge pit in Moon’s Wood, because it is not a direction that many English would have fled. The other five are numbered on Figure 3. The two easternmost pits are the biggest and deepest pits in the entire theatre of war. One straddles Hurst Lane (1), the other covers the eastern side of Killingan Wood (2). Each is 150m by 100m by 8m. There are also three medium sized pits. One – now filled with water - is in the pet cemetery (3), one is in Bartletts Wood (4), one is in Combe Wood (5). They are 75m by 30m, 75m by 30m, and 50m by 60m respectively. The Rochester Roman road ran between 4 and 5.
The Chronicle of Battle Abbey describes the Malfosse’s location relative to the battlefield. Eleanor Searle translates that the Malfosse was ‘just where the fighting was going on’. Lower suggests a more literal – in our opinion, more accurate - translation ‘between the armies’, implying that the English fell back over the Malfosse. Either translation precludes the pet cemetery pit, which is at the head of a stream whereas the battlefield was on a hill.
The Rochester road pits (4/5) offered no flank protection to the west or northeast. If the battle had been fought there, William would have divided his forces to attack from the south, west and northeast, but the contemporary accounts clearly state that the three divisions attacked from the same direction. Moreover, it is inconsistent with Wace’s description of the Norman advance and with Carmen’s description of the battlefield terrain being ‘too rough to cultivate’. We therefore discount 4/5 as battlefield candidates.
Thus, the battlefield either straddled Hurst Lane or straddled Churchlands Lane. We spent years trying to decide which was more likely. They are both consistent with Statements 1 through 11 above. The Churchlands Lane spur is higher and steeper sided, but the Hurst Lane spur is a better match for the other battlefield geography clues. We list 33 of these clues our book. Most of them are equally consistent with both spurs. There are five exceptions, all of which favour Hurst Lane over Churchlands Lane:
Therefore, in our opinion, the battlefield straddled modern Hurst Lane.
If the battlefield straddled modern Hurst Lane, all the contemporary account ditch descriptions can be matched with physical ditches that are still present, one of which is the Malfosse.
Before explaining our reasoning, we need to summarise the main events, depicted on Figure 4. The brown line outlines the English camp. It was entirely in woodland: Churchlands Wood to the east, Killingan Wood in the middle, Bartletts Wood to the west . On the morning of the battle, the English moved from their camp to the battlefield, where they established a heart shaped shield wall shown by the magenta line. The Normans attacked in three divisions from the south-southeast, shown by cyan arrows. The magenta dots depict the route the main routes the English would have fled to get to the Rochester Roman road which is shown as a black line. The white dots show possible routes that the English might have also used. We will return to them below. Please refer to our book if you are interested in more about the camps, the Norman advance or the battle.
We will try to match the 11 contemporary accounts Statements listed above, as well as Tapestry scene 58, to the pits in North Sedlescombe. The first three Statements are linked. They all say or imply that the Normans fell into a pit under their own impetus. The next three are linked too. They all say or imply that the English made a stand at one of the pits, some say or imply that they pushed the Normans into a pit. The other Statements will be addressed individually.
We need to explain about the white dots. Carmen says that the English are seen emerging from woodland to occupy the battlefield, which is consistent with them emerging from Hurst Wood. It is usually translated – by Barlow and Tyson for example - to be saying that the English emerge from woodland in columns. This seems logical at Hurst Lane because they would have had to make their way around the Hurst Lane pit and the route would have been narrow, especially to the east. It is also possible.
The Chronicle of Battle Abbey - “Lamentably, just where the fighting was going on, and stretching for a considerable distance, an immense ditch yawned. It may have been a natural cleft [hiatus] in the earth, or perhaps it had been hollowed out by storms ...” and “… this waste ground was overgrown with brambles and thistles, and could scarcely be seen in time; and it engulfed great numbers, especially of Normans in pursuit of the English. For, when, all unknowing, they came galloping on, their terrific impetus carried them headlong down into it, and they died tragically, pounded to pieces. This deep pit has been named for the accident, and today it is called Malfosse.”
Orderic Vitalis - “For by chance long grasses concealed an ancient rampart, and as the Normans came galloping up they fell, one on top of the other, in a struggling mass of horses and arms …” and “… [God] plunged the fierce Normans into the abyss of destruction”.
Henry of Huntingdon - “… the pursuing Normans fell into a great pit that had been deceitfully concealed. A large number of them fell down and were crushed.”
These three statements refer to the Hurst Lane pit. It was ‘where the fighting was going on’, it is ‘immense’, it ‘stretches out for a considerable distance’, it is ‘deep’, ‘hollowed out’, ‘precipitous’ and ‘pit-like’, all exactly as described by the Chronicle of Battle Abbey. It was not created by storm action, but that would have been a logical conclusion for a medieval monk who lived 700 years too early to have known about geomorphology, and 700 years too late to have known about Roman iron ore mining.
By tradition, these three statements are interpreted to be saying that the Normans rode into the pit because they could not stop in time. We think this is wrong because, as we explain above, medieval war horses seldom moved faster than a trot. We also explain above that all the north Sedlescombe pits would have been surrounded by a spoil rampart, and Orderic specifically say that an overgrown rampart concealed the pit from sight. Our interpretation is that the Normans advanced up and over the rampart, then stopped when they saw the precipitous drop. However, those coming up behind could not see that the downslope on the other side was already full, and their impetus took them over the crest of the rampart, thereby inadvertently shoving those at the front over the edge and down into the abyss.
Poitiers - “However confidence returned to the fugitives when they found a good chance to renew battle, thanks to a broken rampart and labyrinth of ditches …” and “… In that encounter some of the noblest Normans fell, for their valour was of no avail on such unfavourable ground”.
Orderic Vitalis - “Seeing that they could be sheltered by the broken rampart and labyrinth of ditches, they re-formed their ranks and unexpectedly made a stand, inflicting heavy slaughter among the Normans.”
Malmesbury - “Again, making their way around a precipitous ditch by a shortcut known only to themselves, they [the English] trampled down so many of their foes that they filled it level to the brim with a pile of bodies.”
Poitiers and Orderic say that the English make a stand at a broken rampart. We interpret this to mean that there was a break in a rampart. We explain above that Roman iron ore pits would have been surrounded by ramparts made of overcover spoil. The gap between the Hurst Lane pit and the Killingan Wood pit is roughly 75m. The logical conclusion is that ramparts around the rims of those two pits almost joined but left a narrow gap. It would have formed a passageway to get from the south side of the pits to the north side and vice versa. This passageway would be the break in the rampart to which Poitiers and Orderic refer. It would also be the shortcut known only to the English to which Malmesbury refers. The broken rampart is depicted as a broken green line on Figure 4.
Our interpretation of these statements is that the English made a shield wall north of the rampart in an arc between the Hurst Lane and Killingan Wood pits. The Normans chased the English through the break, emerging into a confined area between the rampart and shield wall. It sounds like the English shield charged, the Normans could not get back through the break because it was narrow and more Normans were still coming through, so they got forced sideways into the corners of the pits. Even though the corners were deep, they were narrow. A few dozen men might have filled them to the brim. In these circumstances, it seems likely that many Normans were trampled, aligning with Malmesbury’s description.
Scene 58 shows the English fleeing in two tiers. This would be so at the Killingan Wood pit, where they would be fleeing along the rim and across the bottom of the pit. The artist’s view is looking north from the red arrow on Figure 4.
“The English stood in close ranks, ready and eager for the fight; and they had moreover made a fosse, which went across the field, guarding one side of their army.”
Wace’s protective ditch is generally assumed to have been in front of the shield wall, on the downslope between the armies. However, Wace goes on to say that a barricade performs this function, and that it was so effective that any Normans that crossed the barricade were immediately slaughtered. There was clearly no need for a ditch as well as the barricade and none of the contemporary accounts refer to a protective ditch at the contact zone. Wace says that the protective ditch crossed the battlefield, so it was not on the flanks either. By a process of elimination, it must have crossed the battlefield behind the English line, protecting the English rear.
Wace says that the English made the protective ditch. It seems unlikely. The Normans attacked uphill from one direction. The English were only at the theatre of war for one day. It is implausible that the English could have dug a ditch across the battlefield in one day that was so wide and deep that the Normans did not even try a downhill attack on the English rear.
Thus, Wace is referring to the Hurst Lane iron ore pit, which crossed the entire battlefield protecting the English rear. It was 5m deep on its southern side, and almost vertical sided. The Normans would have no chance of assaulting the English rear across the pit.
“Suddenly the forest spewed out its cohorts; and columns of men stormed out of their hiding-places in the woods. Near the forest was a hill and a valley and land too rough to be tilled. The English, as was their custom, advanced in mass formation and seized this position on which to fight.”
Carmen describes the Norman view of the English entering the battlefield. The Normans attacked from the south, so the English entered the battlefield from the north. The English camp was on Great Sanders ridge, outlined in brown on Figure 4, as we explain in our book. The Chronicle of Battle Abbey says that the battlefield was at Herste, as a proper noun, so we assume meant ‘Herste’ manor. The Old English noun ‘herste’ meant a ‘wooded hill’. Manors with Old English names were occupied in Anglo-Saxon times, so we believe that most manors with names containing ‘herste’ were in woodland clearings. The Normans would therefore see the English emerge from woodland to occupy the battlefield, exactly as Carmen says.
But how could the Normans see the English emerge from woodland if they were looking over the battlefield hill? The answer at Hurst Lane is that the battlefield was only halfway along a spur. The English camp was in woodland further up the slope.
But if the battlefield was halfway along a spur, why did the Normans not loop around behind the English position to attack downhill? The answer at Hurst Lane is that the battlefield was protected from above by the Hurst Lane iron ore pit. We think this is exactly what Carmen is trying to say. The original Latin manuscript says: “Mons silvae vicinus erat vicinaque vallis”. The normal literal translation would be ‘The hill was near the woodland, and the valley was nearby’. However, Carmen is a Latin poem, and the Oxford Latin Dictionary says that ‘vallis’ often means ‘pit’ in Latin poems. We think Camen is trying to say: ‘The [battlefield] hill was near the woodland [where the English camped], and the pit was nearby’, exactly describing the Hurst Lane battlefield.
“The English fell back upon a rising ground, and the Normans followed them across the valley, attacking them on foot and horseback.”
This statement would be implausible at any battlefield candidate bar Hurst Lane. A hill that could accommodate a battle with at least twelve thousand men is a substantial feature. The rising ground beyond a valley on the flight route would be far away: 500m away at Battle Abbey, 1000m at Telham Hill, 1500m at Caldbec Hill, or 1500m at Blackhorse Hill. It is implausible that the Norman cavalry would have allowed the English to fall back over 500m of open downslope to occupy the rising ground beyond. Instead, they would have looped around to catch the English in the valley bottom where the enemy would have been most disadvantaged.
There is no inconsistency at Hurst Lane. The north rim of the Hurst Lane iron ore pit is 15m below the summit of the Great Sanders ridge. Wace was trying to say that the English fell back to the higher ground on the northern side of the Hurst Lane pit and the Norman followed them across. It is true that Wace uses the Norman French word ‘val’, which usually means a fluvial valley whereas the Hurst Lane pit is non-fluvial, but he did not visit the site, he was writing 120 years after the event, and he had no reason to know that the theatre of war was a mining district. One of his sources was first hand reports made to his father. Wace Jnr probably reported something told to his father without realising that it might be ambiguous.
“[Harold] surrounded it [the English camp] by a good fosse, leaving an entrance on each of three sides, which were ordered to be all well-guarded”.
Wace implies that the English dug a ‘good’ defensive ditch around their camp. It is implausible. A comfortable camp for 6000 fighting men and followers would need to be at least 15 hectares. The circumference would be at least 1km and Carmen says that the English camp was in woodland. The English were only at their camp for a day. There is no possibility that they dug a 1km long ditch through tree roots that would be wide enough or deep enough to provide useful protection.
A modern spade with four times the surface area of its medieval ancestor can excavate roughly 0.25m3 of earth per hour. If the English had five hundred spades and buckets, and the topsoil was deep and soft, and they worked constantly for 48 hours, all of which seems as optimistic as possible, they might have been able to excavate 1500m3 of soil. A ‘good fosse’, to use Wace’s term, would have needed to be wider than the length of a spear, say 3m, and perhaps 1.5m deep. Optimistically, they might have been able to dig a ‘good fosse’ 350m long, not bad but nowhere near long enough to protect the entire camp.
However, if the English camped on the Great Sanders ridge, as we propose, the five iron ore pits numbered on Figure 37 would have done much of the work for them. The steep broken ground (B) between 3 and 4 would need little fortification. Perhaps the English dug a 100m ditch between 2 and 3 to complete the southern defence. For the rest, they just needed to defend the streams draining to the northwest and northeast. This would also make sense of Wace’s claim that the camp had three well-guarded entrances. The Roman road would have been one entrance, the hidden passageway through the broken rampart would be the second. If there was a causeway across the Hurst Lane pit, that would be third. If not, it would have been around the eastern side of the Hurst Lane pit.
“In the plain was a fosse which the Normans had now behind them, having passed it in the fight without regarding it ...”, then: “… but the English charged and drove the Normans before them, till they made them fall back upon this fosse. Many were seen falling therein.”
Wace says that the Normans advanced past the shield charge ditch without noticing it. They could not have advanced over a potentially fatal ditch without noticing it. It was therefore lateral, to one side of the battlefield and within shield charge range. The battlefield was on a hill. John of Worcester says that the English were ‘drawn up in a narrow place’, meaning that it was flanked by natural protection. Considering the geography of a hill, this protection was probably provided by streams flowing down the battlefield hill. One of these streams would be the shield charge ditch.
As we mention above, Wace’s shield charge ditch is different from the others, a fluvial ditch whereas the others are open cast mines. The contemporary accounts are saying that it was to one side of the battlefield and parallel to it. They do not give any clues about whether it was to the east or west of the battlefield, but the western boundary stream at Hurst Lane is known as ‘Devil’s Brook’, probably in remembrance of those that died therein. We marked its probable position with a red X on Figure 4.
All the contemporary account references to ditches at the battlefield are consistent with pits and one ditch at Hurst Lane. The best known of the battlefield ditches is the Malfosse. It referred to the huge iron ore pits that straddles Hurst Lane. The references to a ‘cluster or labyrinth of ditches’ refer to the five large deep iron ore pits in Churchlands Wood, Killingan Wood, Bartletts Wood and Combe Wood. Tapestry scene 58 depicts the Killingan Wood pit. Wace’s shield charge ditch referred to Devil’s Brook, the stream that bounds the battlefield to the west.