Breton aristocrat, three-time widow and mother, Jeanne de Clisson went down in history as the 'Lioness of Brittany’ – a woman who, after her husband was executed by the King of France, outfitted a fleet of black ships and terrorized the waters of the English Channel for thirteen years.
A Life Shadowed by Conflict
Born around 1300 in Belleville-sur-Vie, Jeanne hailed from a wealthy family of lords on the border of Poitou and Brittany. The region was famous for its vineyards and salt production, and the local nobility maintained trade connections stretching from the Iberian Peninsula to England. These merchant ties and her knowledge of sea routes would later prove invaluable in her extraordinary career.
Jeanne’s life initially followed the typical path for women of her status. Her first husband, Geoffrey de Châteaubriant, died in 1326, leaving her with two children. Her second marriage, to a member of the ducal house of Brittany, was annulled by Pope John XXII after just two years. It was her third marriage to Olivier IV de Clisson that brought stability – they joined their estates and became the most powerful lordly force on the Breton-French border.
However, fourteenth-century Europe rarely allowed a peaceful life. In 1341, the Breton succession war broke out and the Clisson family supported France’s candidate, Charles de Blois. That decision would bring tragedy to the family. Olivier defended Vannes against the English, and after the city fell he was exchanged for a suspiciously low ransom. His easy release raised accusations of treason.
An Execution That Changed Everything
In January 1343 a truce was signed between England and France. Olivier de Clisson, along with fifteen other Breton and Norman lords, accepted an invitation to a tournament on French soil. It was a trap. All were arrested on charges of secret correspondence with King Edward III. Evidence was never presented publicly.
Jeanne desperately tried to secure her husband’s release, even attempting to bribe the royal sergeant, for which she herself was summoned to court. She managed to avoid arrest thanks to her stepson and loyal servants, but the verdict was inexorable. On August 2, 1343, Olivier was beheaded in Les Halles, Paris, and his body hung from the gibbet. His head was sent to Nantes and mounted on a pike above the Sauvetout gate.
This treatment of the remains, normally reserved for common criminals, shocked the nobility throughout Europe. Chronicler Jean Froissart and his contemporaries harshly criticized King Philip VI’s conduct. For Jeanne, it was more than an insult – it was a cowardly murder that demanded vengeance.
The Lioness of Brittany
Legend has it that Jeanne took her two young sons, Olivier and Guillaume, to Nantes to show them their father’s head. It was not a gesture of despair, but an oath. At the Sauvetout gate, she swore vengeance against the King of France and Charles de Blois.
Her first step was to sell the family estates. With the proceeds, she raised an army of about four hundred loyal men and began attacking French garrisons in Brittany. The castle at Touffou was the first to fall – Jeanne was reportedly admitted by the commander who recognized her, after which her forces massacred the entire garrison except one man. This pattern repeated itself for years.
But her true legend began at sea. Jeanne outfitted three merchant vessels for war. Some accounts claim the ships were painted black and the sails dyed red. The flagship was allegedly named 'My Revenge.’ This Black Fleet initially operated in the Bay of Biscay, likely using the family’s island fortress on Yeu as a base.
In time, Jeanne shifted her operations to the English Channel, hunting French merchant ships. Her tactics were simple and ruthless – crews were slaughtered almost to the last man. However, one or a few sailors were always left alive to carry word of the Lioness of Brittany’s vengeance straight to the King of France.
The Breton coast, Gironde estuary, the Saint Mathieu cape, and the waters around Oléron, Ré, and Aix islands became particularly dangerous. The straits and many small, often deserted islands were perfect for ambushes. Local tradition on Yeu Island holds that Jeanne used her family’s castle as her base. She reportedly also attacked seaside villages in Normandy, burning them and putting inhabitants to the sword.
Some sources describe Jeanne as a privateer in English service, acting under a royal letter of marque. However, no such document has survived. It is known that in 1346, during the Crécy campaign, her ships supplied English troops. In the fourteenth century, the line between piracy and lawful naval warfare was very thin – both sides employed privateers.
The Cost of Revenge
The French finally caught her fleet. Jeanne’s flagship was sunk, and she and her two sons drifted for five days. The younger, Guillaume, died of exposure before help arrived. The survivors were rescued by Montfort supporters and taken to Morlaix. But even this tragedy didn’t end the Lioness’s campaign – she continued her privateering for another thirteen years.
In the 1350s Jeanne married a fourth time, this time to English commander Walter Bentley, one of King Edward III’s governors in Brittany. The couple had to fight to regain confiscated lands, and Bentley himself was imprisoned in the Tower of London for refusing a royal order to give up his wife’s castles to the Duke of Brittany. In 1357, they finally received the barony of La Roche-Moisan as compensation.
Jeanne eventually settled at Hennebont Castle, a port town on the Breton coast in Montfort-aligned territory. Walter Bentley died in December 1359, and Jeanne followed within weeks. The woman who had terrorized the French seas for over a decade and become a symbol of relentless vengeance ended her days peacefully – as the wife of an English lord in a friendly port. She was likely around sixty years old.
Margot Cleverly
Margot's journey into women's history began with a box of forgotten letters in a Cambridge archive – suffragettes whose voices had been silenced for over a century. Since then, she's been on a mission to uncover the stories history overlooked.
What she writes about: Queens who ruled from the shadows. Scientists whose male colleagues took credit. Revolutionaries who risked everything. But also ordinary women – those who survived wars, raised families through upheaval, and shaped their communities in ways no one bothered to record.
Margot turns historical figures into real people. She writes with warmth and detail, making centuries-old stories feel surprisingly relevant. Rigorous research meets accessible storytelling – no dusty academic jargon, just compelling narratives backed by solid facts.
When she's not writing, you'll find her in regional archives, collecting oral histories, or visiting sites connected to the women she writes about.
