The legend of the Oriflamme, the Golden Flame of France, is as fascinating as it is confusing. Fact and fiction, Kings and Popes, Saints and battlefields, blood and death, all these ingredients swirl and mix inside the boiling cauldron of early Christendom's lore.
What is the Oriflamme?
Red silk, golden flames stemming from a blazing Sun, flown from a gilded lance into the battlefield at the direct request of the King of France. When the Oriflamme was raised in battle, tradition has it, the French armies were to give no quarter to the enemy, not even to those nobles who were routinely captured for ransom in Medieval warfare. This is what earned the legendary banner the alternative name of The Oriflamme of Death.
Name, shape, colour, pretty much any detail about the Oriflamme has changed several times throughout its history, making its evolution especially difficult to follow. What's undisputed is the indelible mark left by this legend from the early centuries of Christendom on France's military and religious history.
The First Oriflamme
Who raised the first Oriflamme? In the famous eleventh-century epic poem Chanson de Roland, written between 1040 AD and 1115 AD, the Oriflamme is mentioned as being part of Charlemagne's war regalia, given to him by the Pope right before he sets off to fight the Saracens. However, the way the Oriflamme is described is cryptic to say the least.
It all begins with the word Montjoie. Throughout the whole poem, Montjoie comes up regularly as this war-cry the French knights yell all the time as they go into battle. The etymological roots of Montjoie are still uncertain, which is an elegant way to say we're not entirely sure of its meaning. There are several proposed theories, all extremely interesting, but a consensus has yet to be reached among scholars. It's a word, and so is "Romaine", which is also found in Chanson de Roland. According to whoever wrote the poem, Romaine was the first name given to the Oriflamme, only to be later renamed Montjoie for reasons unknown. Here's the relevant passage from Chanson de Roland in a modern translation by Jessie Crosland:
"Montjoie" is their battle-cry and Charles himself is in their company. Geoffroy of Anjou carries the oriflamme; it had belonged to St. Peter and was called "Romaine", but it has changed its name since and become "Montjoie".
Montjoie! was the battle cry of the Franks, that much is established. In Chanson de Roland Charlemagne himself shouts "Montjoie!" left and right to hype himself up when he's facing the pagans (which is all the time). In the poem, Geoffroy of Anjou is the porte-oriflamme, the bearer of the Oriflamme, a position that will become almost as legendary as the banner itself. In actuality Geoffroy I Count of Anjou never met Charlemagne, much less shared a battlefield with him, as he was born some 120 years after the great Carolingian Emperor died. However, the County of Anjou was already one of the most influential French dynasties by the time Chanson de Roland was written, as it had existed since a Frank nobleman named Ingelger first established it the 9th century. The author/s of Chanson de Roland likely wrote the character of Geoffroy of Anjou in as a representative of the County of Anjou, and his role as the standard-bearer of Charlemagne is a testament to the great prestige the name Anjou carried in France.
The next bit, "it had belonged to St. Peter and was called Romaine", is one of the most important hints in the whole poem. There's a church in Rome called San Giovanni Church (Church of St. John), inside said church is a stunning 9th century mosaic in which St. Peter can be seen handing Charlemagne the Oriflamme. The design however is completely different from the typical red and golden version of the banner. This Oriflamme has a green background, with yellow crosses and red flowers on it. This might be the first ever iteration of the banner, a proto-Oriflamme, if you will, called Romaine, subsequently passed down to the Carolingian Kings. According to the poem, by the time Romaine was in the hands of Charlemagne it was already referred to as Montjoie. So according to whoever wrote Chanson de Roland, the Oriflamme at some point assumed the name of the battle cry shouted by the Franks, which might make sense since both were meant to rile up the armies as they thrusted into bloody battles. Now, while it's important to keep in mind that Chanson de Roland is basically a propaganda piece, entirely fictional and created to sing the praises of Charlemagne while painting the Saracens as the ultimate enemies of Christendom, when it comes to the Oriflamme it's clear at least some of the lore behind it was indeed already present in tangible sources available at the time.
The Three Oriflammes
About nine kilometers north of Paris is the Basilica of St. Denis, supposedly built on the same spot where Saint Denis himself, first bishop of Paris and Christian martyr, is said to have walked to with his own head in his hands after being decapitated around 250 AD. First built as an abbey, it was later enlarged into a Basilica where nearly every French King would be laid to rest from the 10th century to Louis XVIII in the 19th century. This is where a second Oriflamme enters the picture, making things even more fun to unravel.
This Oriflamme, as legend wants it, was at some point deposited in the abbey of St. Denis by King Dagobert I, one of the last Merovingian Kings. This new standard, referred to as the Oriflamme of St. Denis, replaced the old banner of Saint Martin, which had been flown and revered as sacred by the Frank Kings since the 4th century. Its function was to guard the tombs of all the French Kings buried in the abbey. If war broke out, and France was called to answer a foe, the current King was to enter the abbey, raise the Oriflamme and carry it into battle. The first known King - still according to legend - to ever perform this ritual is King Louis VI, or Louis the Fat, King of the Franks from 1108 to 1137. This made the Oriflamme of St. Denis something the French Kings would be bringing into battlefield for centuries to come. It's easy to see how strongly the symbolism must've been felt for a banner with a lore so deeply rooted into early Christianity. Originally part of St. Martin's cloak, then brought to the abbey of St. Denis by King Dagobert I, carrying such a relic into the battlefield surely must have given the Franks the feeling that God was indeed in their corner.
At this point the design of the Oriflamme can be split into three main iterations:
The green Oriflamme of Charlemagne, passed down from St. Peter himself
The red Oriflamme, described first in 1225
And finally the Oriflamme of St. Denis carried first by Louis the Fat
This is not to say there aren't other versions of the Oriflamme, several are found in paintings and miniatures and all sorts of artwork throughout the centuries, but these seem to be the most consistently represented. It is entirely possible however, and quite probable, that the Oriflamme bearing the golden Sun and the Oriflamme of St. Denis are simply the result of two legends merging together, with the St. Denis banner picking up what the legend of St. Martin had started.
The Cloak of St. Martin
Medieval accounts of his life describe St. Martin as a former roman soldier stationed in northern France near the city of Armiens. One day Martin cut off half his cloak and gave it to a beggar he met before the city gates. In a wild plot twist the beggar turned out to be Jesus Christ himself, so Martin dropped his military career, got baptized and fully embraced Christianity. He would go on to become bishop of Tours in 371 and one of the patron saints of France. The crucial bit is of course the one involving Martin's cloak, which became a relic of massive importance and spawned a whole cult around it, not to mention a tradition that fits perfectly into the Oriflamme's narrative.
The remaining half of Martin's cloak was consequently adopted by the earlier leaders of the Franks as their royal banner of war, to the extent that they would swear oaths upon it. The cloak's first recorded mention is found in the royal treasury in 678, when it was kept at the palatium of Luzarches in northern France, a villa later ceded to the monks of Saint Denis by Charlemagne in 798/99.
The cloak of St. Martin and its function as royal war standard predates both Charlemagne's Oriflamme and the one left in the abbey of St. Denis by King Dagobert. This would make St. Martin's cloak the progenitor of both, not to mention the very first iteration of what would become France's iconic standard, bearing yellow fleurs-de-lis on a blue background.
The Last Oriflamme
The presence of the Oriflamme in medieval battlefields is heavily documented since the early 13th century. Written records, supplemented by a huge amount of miniatures and paintings, place the Oriflamme in some of the most important medieval battles: the battle of Bouvines in 1214, Crécy in 1346, Poitiers in 1356, and even during the disastrous seventh Crusade led by Louis IX of France in 1248, where Louis himself was captured, his army was mostly wiped out, and the Oriflamme was lost in the process.
Determining with a fair degree of certainty if the Oriflamme truly was present in each one of those instances would be a project on its own, but for the sake of not getting sidetracked we are going to assume it was. This naturally leads to another question: when was the Oriflamme last flown into battle? traditionally the battle of Agincourt in 1415 is where the flame of the Oriflamme burned for the last time and was ultimately extinguished, along with the lives and pride of a whole generation of French knights. Several are the depictions of the Oriflamme raised in Agincourt, which is a strong argument in favor of it being indeed the setting of its last ever appearance. The poetic value alone is undeniable. Some modern historians however have disputed this on a fairly simple basis: the Oriflamme can only be flown into battle when the King himself joins the fray, which checks out for every single one of the instances mentioned before. The whole lore around the Oriflamme seems to confirm this unwritten rule, as only the King can raise the banner from its resting place and have his porte-oriflamme, the standard carrier, bring it to the battlefield. On October 25, 1415, as opposed to the fearsome English longbowmen led into battle by King Henry V, the French knights in Agincourt had no King to share the muddy battlefield with, as Charles IV was mentally ill at that point and thus unable to do so in any capacity. This is why the claim that the Oriflamme was even present in Agincourt is disputed by historians today. No King, no Oriflamme.
The Oriflamme Reborn
Whether or not the Oriflamme was last raised at the battle of Agincourt, pretty much all historians agree that after Agincourt the Oriflamme was never seen again on a battlefield, at least not in its traditional design. The humiliating defeat of Agincourt had sent rippling waves of anger and woe throughout generations of French aristocracy and commoners alike. One of those commoners was a certain nineteen-year-old girl who, in May of 1429, was fighting under the walls of fort Les Tourelles in a besieged Orléans. Joan was flying her own banner that she herself designed, and this marks what historians identify as the moment the Oriflamme was officially replaced by Joan's iconic white standard.
When the siege of Orléans was finally lifted thanks to Joan, all the sorrow, the humiliation, the yearning for revenge caused by the defeat at Agincourt, all those feelings were exorcised all at once in the catharsis of a miraculous victory against all odds, and the sparkle of that catharsis is what reignited the flame of the Oriflamme. The sacred banner of the Frank monarchs of old was now reborn from its ashes into a living, breathing, talking vessel, one nobody could expect. The traumatized sons of those who perished in Agincourt fourteen years prior - like the Duke of Alençon, one of Joan's most loyal friends - must have perceived Joan as the embodiment of that same legendary flame, the same flame their ancestors used to carry into battlefield to let the enemy know no prisoners would be taken that day.
History is often poetic in resolving its tragedies, and Joan is perhaps the most apt example of this. Her unbreakable determination and force of will morphed her into the very last iteration of the legendary Oriflamme, and certainly the most effective at rallying the French armies and boosting their morale. Joan wasn't going on a crusade to repel the pagans like the kings of old, her dream was to repair the broken line to the French throne, she wanted to see another King crowned in Rheims and anointed using the Holy Ampulla, the same one used by Saint Remigius in 496 to baptize Clovis, first King of the Franks. Joan grew up with the stories and legends of the Merovingian kings, she was no stranger to the millennia long thread that run from Clovis all the way to the predicaments of the war she was born into, and the terrible implications of France not being able to rightfully claim her own throne.
The name of Joan's home village, Domrémy, uses the compound Dom, an element frequently encountered in medieval toponymy and meaning "holy" in the sense of dedication of the parish, followed by the name of Saint Remy, Saint Remigius, that same Remigius who baptized Clovis. No novelist could've picked a better character than the one history did when it picked Joan as the hero that would deliver France its rightful King. A thousand-year-old tradition started by Clovis, broken during the Hundred Years' War when all seemed lost for France, and restored against all odds by the most unexpected hero. It's hard to imagine what Joan must've felt when she became not only part, but rather the main protagonist of those same legends she had been hearing about countless times in her childhood.
In conclusion, it's safe to assume we might never be able to sift through fact and fiction and conclusively unravel the Oriflamme's factual origins, however I believe it can be argued - and I certainly am - that its legacy can be found in what Joan of Arc still means today for her fellow countrymen, almost six centuries after her death. I'd go as far as to argue that Clovis himself, first king of the Franks, and Charlemagne, first bearer of the Oriflamme (according to the legend) would both agree with me in saying that Joan was, is, and forever will be, the true Golden Flame of France.
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