It’s a tense October morning in the year
of 732 and Charles Martel, leader of the Franks, shouts a few words of encouragement to his
men upon sighting the enemy. Closing in fast was an Umayyad wave of steel
and swords, set to crash against the dogged shieldwall of their Frankish foes; the battle
for the fate of Tours and perhaps Christian Europe itself was about to begin. By
the year 732 the dynamic Islamic faith had spread far from its Arabian heartland; already
by the mid-7th century the new Umayyad Caliphate controlled an empire stretching from Khurasan
in the east to Tripoli in the West. In 711, an alliance of North African Arab
and Berber adventurers invaded the Visigothic kingdom, defeating King Roderick at the Battle
of Guadelete and initiating the complete subjugation of Hispania within a few years. With Roderic slain, Achila had assumed the
crown only to be driven into Septimania, which was in turn conquered by 719. The Caliphate’s subjugation of Septimania
now extended Umayyad control into the underbelly of the Frankish world and made Odo of Aquitaine
especially anxious. Throughout 720, the Muslim Governor of Al-Andalus,
Al-Samh consolidated his hold there, beginning the arduous siege of Visigothic hold-out Carcassonne. The next year, Al-Samh launched a serious
attempt at conquering Toulouse, but was defeated in a daring night attack outside the city,
Prince Odo’s desperate charge temporarily checking the Muslim advance. During this disaster, command of the Muslim
remnants was taken by a certain Abd al-Rahman Al-Ghafiqi. As his names suggests, Al-Rahman was of the
Ghafiqi clan, one of the elite Arab clans who had settled Al-Andalus some years before. Renowned as a man of generosity, piety, and
courage, Al-Rahman’s prestige was also enhanced through his friendship with one of the sons
of Umar himself, who was the second of the so-called ‘rightly-guided’ caliphs that
immediately succeeded the Prophet Muhammad. Though proving himself very capable of commanding
in a crisis, Al-Rahman was replaced as governor by the senior North African Governor who saw
him as too generous to the defeated men. Al-Rahman’s time would come, however, between
his brief and longer services as wali of Al-Andalus he instead ruled Septimania from Narbonne,
close to the site of the battlefield of Toulouse. It’s now that we turn our attention north
to the Frankish world. Odo’s triumph outside of Toulouse in 721
was certainly no unified Christian front against the Muslim invaders. Odo had petitioned the support of the de facto
Frankish ruler Charles Martel, but had ultimately been refused and had to face the southern
threat alone. Charles’ refusal was symptomatic of the
fragmented nature of the Frankish domain. Having united the Frankish mayoralties, the
death of Charles’ father Pepin of Herstal resulted in a civil war from which Charles
ultimately emerged victorious. However, it was during this upheaval that
in 714, Duke Odo of Aquitaine – nominally a Frankish vassal – declared himself prince
of his own domain. Effectively independent from around 670 anyway,
Aquitaine’s borders had even expanded northwards during the Frankish decline. Yet though Odo rivalled Charles as a power
of the region, his ambitions were checked in 719 and an accord was reached whereby Charles
recognised Odo’s status in Aquitaine in exchange for custody of his ally King Chilperic
II, whom Charles used to legitimise his own rule as sole mayor, later reinforcing his
own grip on power through the ‘do-nothing king’ Thierry IV. Meanwhile, in Al-Andalus, tensions between
Berber and Arab Muslims would spill over into bloodshed and provided the basis for the Al-Rahman’s
incursion into Aquitaine the following year. Far from a harmonious polity, the Muslims
of Al-Andalus were arguably as fractured as their northern foes. Tensions between the minority Arab elite and
Berbers, both of whom constituted the Muslim ruling class, had simmered beneath the surface
and, after hearing of the oppression of his fellow Berbers in North Africa, the regional
governor Munusa threw off Umayyad control. Munusa thought it prudent to form a pact of
friendship with the equally-embattled Odo on his border. This alliance was sealed through the marriage
of the Berber to Odo’s illegitimate but beautiful daughter. For Al-Rahman, Munusa’s pact with an enemy
bordering his lands could not go unanswered. He also likely felt he had unfinished business
with Munusa’s new ally too and it seems that Al-Rahman begun planning his push into
Aquitaine from the time of his second accession as governor. From 730 to 732, Al-Rahman toured his province,
engaging in the usual duties of his office while he had also commanded his army to coalesce
at Pamplona. All in all, Al-Rahman’s force may have numbered
from 15-20,000 men, though this is one of the more hotly debated areas of this campaign. Back north, far from concerned at the build-up
of Umayyad power across the Pyrenees, Charles Martel was more worried about a meeting between
the ex-mayor of Neustria and Odo, which he feared may lead up to an alliance against
him. Meanwhile, in the same year, Muslim raiders
penetrated as far as Burgundy, nominally under Charles’ control, and even seized and burnt
down the rich city of Autun. Charles evidently took the threat of Odo far
more seriously that year as he twice attacked north-eastern Aquitaine in warning. Traversing the Loire, the Carolingian army
captured and looted Bourges, though Odo swiftly retook it. In the south, probably during summer or early
autumn of 731, Al-Rahman moved to crush Munusa. Moving into the rebel governor’s province,
he defeated his army, took his main stronghold, and then cornered Munusa himself in the mountains,
Odo’s ally throwing himself from a cliff to avoid capture. In either May or early June of 732, the Muslim
army finally moved into Aquitaine moving not through the usual eastern route, but via the
West. This brought Al-Rahman’s army squarely into
the heartland of Odo’s power and also avoided the Toulouse region where his predecessor
had met such a sticky end. Al-Rahman’s main body headed determinedly
north towards Bordeaux, while smaller parties fanned off to devastate the lands between
the Pyrenees and Garonne, meeting scant resistance. In answer, Odo assembled his own force of
Gascons and Basque militia, fixing themselves along the river Garonne. Perhaps recalling his great victory eleven
years before, Odo remained outside of his capital, preferring instead to meet his foes
in the field; however, unlike at Toulouse he was defeated. Seizing Bordeaux itself, the Muslim host showed
little mercy, burning any church they found and slaying many inhabitants. Such a prize also substantially increased
their collective hoard of loot. Al-Rahman now moved to finish Odo himself,
meeting the Aquitani force once more and wiping out most of his army. With little option, Odo fled north with his
remaining followers to seek the aid of another enemy. Encountering Charles at Reims, the Frankish
ruler responded by mustering his own army from all three of his realms. Marching to Orléans, Charles crossed the
river Loire via Ambrose and to his relief found the city of Tours, within his own territory,
untouched. With the defeat of Odo, Al-Rahman’s army
split off and raided the wider region for around three months, before reassembling at
the gutted Saintes and heading ominously for the rich city of Poitiers. Poitiers itself was surrounded by walls, however,
the place had large unfortified suburbs that left it vulnerable, the Umayyads sacking and
looting the abbey-church of Saint-Hilaire. Already heavily-laden with loot, Al-Rahman’s
army bypassed the fortified city itself and made north for the more vulnerable and even
richer abbey-church of Saint Martin, outside the city of Tours. Yet, if the Muslim warriors looked greedily
forward to this substantial increase in their riches, then they were to be sorely disappointed. Having been halted close to crossing the Vienne
by the advancing Franks, the Muslim army pulled back to a defensive position, establishing
their camp between the rivers on or around the 18th October. It’s generally agreed that a period of standoff
ensued; indeed, it’s likely that Charles’ army was encamped on the opposite bank of
the Vienne for some days and eventually crossed to make their own camp north of a modern-day
hamlet. Sporadic skirmishing took place in the build-up
to the main day of battle. The Frankish force fielded that day consisted
of many grizzled veterans of Charles’ earlier campaigns as well as less experienced militia
units. Almost exclusively an infantry force, the
army did, however, have a small cavalry arm, led by Odo himself. In contrast, the Umayyad army was largely
mounted, more mobile and better equipped. As per the usual Umayyad practice, their camp
would have been in a relatively secure location, most likely on some high ground a little off
and surrounded by woods; though, as events will show, it was not so secure as to be invulnerable
to attack. The Umayyad army was also likely formed in
the traditional five divisions of a centre, two wings, as well as a vanguard and rear-guard. Given it is highly unlikely the Umayyad camp
was left undefended, the Muslim rear-guard was likely either close to or at the camp
itself. Early on the morning of October 25th, the
Umayyad army once again arrayed for battle and this time attacked the solid Frankish
ranks. Charles must have been aware that his greatest
chance of survival was to withstand these attacks. The repeated Muslim charges smashed bloodily
against the Franks, with Al-Rahman ordering probing assaults at particular points of perceived
weakness. Yet despite these repeated charges and perhaps
some initial fragmentation of parts of the Frankish line, Charles’ Franks held firm. However, the same could not be said for the
Umayyad invaders. Sometime during the early afternoon, Odo – likely
leading a small contingent of cavalry – rode around the main melee in a wide flanking attack
on the Muslim camp. Odo’s attack managed to penetrate the Muslim
camp, slaughtering many non-combatants, and yet he was not able to completely overrun
it. As aforementioned, it’s almost certain that
the camp offered serious resistance, the Umayyad rear-guard probably preventing a total slaughter,
though the overall damage had already been done in another way. Back at the main clash, word spread through
the Umayyad ranks that the camp itself was being attacked and perhaps having little choice,
Al-Rahman ordered a general withdrawal to check Odo’s assault there. Seizing the moment, Charles launched his own
full-scale counterattack, reaching the Muslim camp and engaging Al-Rahman and his men once
more. At this stage the second breakthrough of the
battle came with the fall of the Umayyad commander himself. This, however, did not precipitate a disorderly
collapse or rout, as even so the Muslim warriors did manage to push back the Franks. Indeed, it was Charles who ordered a general
withdrawal back to his own camp as the evening darkened, though he left the Muslim host battered
and now leaderless. As morning dawned, the Frankish leader once
more determinedly arrayed his warriors for battle, but this time no fighting ensued. The Umayyad army had taken the opportunity
to withdraw in good order during the night, having left their camp intact, as well as
their prisoners and a hefty stash of loot. The loot alone was sufficient to stymie any
serious pursuit of the invaders, as well as a general lack of cavalry. Charles himself withdrew north via Orléans,
content to allow Odo to clean up the smaller Muslim groups that remained. The Battle of Tours thus concluded not so
much on the tail-end of an annihilation, but in a checking of the main Muslim advance. Charles had prevented Al-Rahman’s host from
reaching the Abbey of Saint Martin’s and scored an unambiguous and famous victory over
the Umayyad Caliphate, however, the Muslim presence in Francia was hardly eradicated. The Umayyads would remain a continuing presence
in the region well past the lifetime of Charles, with Charles’ son Pepin finally driving
them out of Narbonne some years later. However, though contained to Al-Andalus, the
long Reconquista south of Charles’ domain would endure for centuries to come.
