Thirteenth Century England XI: Proceedings of the Gregynog Conference, 2005 (Thirteenth Century England) (v. 11)

Thirteenth Century England XI Proceedings of the Gregynog Conference, 2005

Björn Weiler, Janet Burton, Phillipp Schofield

THIRTEENTH CENTURY ENGLAND XI PROCEEDINGS OF THE GREGYNOG CONFERENCE 2005

THIRTEENTH CENTURY ENGLAND XI

PROCEEDINGS OF THE GREGYNOG CONFERENCE 2005

Edited by Björn Weiler Janet Burton Phillipp Schofield Karen Stöber

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© Contributors 2005, 2007 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner First published 2007 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 978–1–84383–285–0 ISSN 0269–6967

The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This publication is printed on acid-free paper Typeset by Pru Harrison, Hacheston, Suffolk

Printed in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PREFACE CONTRIBUTORS ABBREVIATIONS

‘Adam of Bristol’ and Tales of Ritual Crucifixion in Medieval England Robert C. Stacey

vii ix xii xiii 1

Ethics and Office in England in the Thirteenth Century Frédérique Lachaud

16

Some Aspects of the Royal Itinerary in the Twelfth Century S.D. Church

31

The minority governments of Henry III, Henry (VII) and Louis IX compared Christian Hillen

46

Scottish Queenship in the Thirteenth Century Jessica Nelson

61

Ethnicity, personal names, and the nature of Scottish Europeanization Matthew Hammond

82

Power, Preaching and the Crusades in Pura Wallia c.1180–c.1280 Kathryn Hurlock

94

A Forgotten War: England and Navarre, 1243–4 Nicholas Vincent

109

The Appointment of Cardinal-deacon Otto as Legate in Britain (1237) Adam Davies

147

Matthew Paris and John Mansel Hui Liu

159

The Burial of Noblewomen in Thirteenth-Century Shropshire Emma Cavell

174

Dynastic Conflict in thirteenth-century Laxton David Crook

193

Absenteeism: The Chronology of a Concept Beth Hartland

215

ILLUSTRATIONS

A Forgotten War: England and Navarre, 1243–4

Map.

The borders between Navarre and Gascony

110

Burial of Noblewomen in Shropshire

Fig. 1. Diagram: evidence for noblewomen’s burials in Shropshire, 1150–1350

177

Dynastic Conflict in Laxton

Map. Plan of Laxton, 1232 Table. Lords of Laxton

194 199

PREFACE

Preface

This volume contains papers delivered at the Thirteenth-Century England conference held at the University of Wales conference centre at Gregynog in September 2005. It thus marks a new phase in the history of the Thirteenth-Century England conferences. The change of location (from Northumbria and the Palatinate of Durham to Powys) bears testimony to how much the field has changed over two decades, and how the thematic, geographical and chronological focus of the conferences has developed. The study of thirteenth-century English history has become a distinctly international endeavour, both as far as the geographical focus of papers is concerned, and the provenance of those who give them. In 2005 we thus had speakers and participants from Austria, France, Germany, Taiwan and the United States, and we hope that this international dimension can be expanded upon in future years. Equally, Thirteenth-Century England is quite evidently not just about England or the thirteenth century, but, in geographical terms, includes England’s neighbours in Britain and Ireland, as well as those on the European mainland, while, in chronological terms, it follows the current vogue for ‘long centuries’, and covers the period from c. 1180 to c. 1330. The papers, divided between broad identifiable themes, encapsulate the dynamic of the study of the thirteenth century in recent years. In terms of a focus away from England, papers relating to Ireland, Scotland and Wales feature prominently in this collection. In her paper, Beth Hartland questions the concept of ‘absenteeism’ as it has been understood by historians of Ireland, and in particular the way in which two key events in the thirteenth century, the grant of Ireland in 1254 to the future Edward I, and the division of the lordship of Leinster among heiresses who married English lords, are seen to have created the phenomenon. Her paper investigates the development of the consciousness that absenteeism was a problem by 1317, the ‘year of the so-called first summons of absentees’. Matthew Hammond uses the evidence of charters and charter culture, as well as the evidence of the choice of personal names and naming strategies, and inheritance patterns, to investigate the question of Scottish ‘Europeanization’ and the interaction of immigrants and ‘native’ Scots. Jessica Nelson explores the notion of queenship in Scotland, whose queens, with the exception of St Margaret, have received little attention from scholars. She focuses on the roles of five queens from the thirteenth century, looking at their titles, their origins and their status as part of the self image of a king, their activities, their success (or otherwise) as providers of heiresses, their sustained links with natal families, and the ways in which they interpreted their roles. Kathryn Hurlock looks at the impact of crusading preaching in Wales between c. 1180 and c. 1280. Such preaching could be seen in political as well as religious terms, that is, as propaganda, and as a tool for exercising political power and control. In a specifically Welsh context her paper demonstrates the use of preaching as a potential for removing problems posed for the English crown by the Welsh princes and aristocracy, and for establishing and reinforcing control by the English church over the Welsh dioceses. A further international perspective is offered by Christian Hillen, who also brings a comparative

x

Preface

approach to his discussion of minorities in England, France and Germany, as well as making passing reference to Spain. He argues, in an attempt to articulate the problem and to establish an agenda for further research, that an understanding of household and patronage systems is essential to comprehending the evolution of a ruler from minority to full authority in this period. Similarly, Adam Davies proposes a new reading of the relationship between Henry III and Pope Gregory IX, taking as his starting point the mission of Cardinal Otto of St Nicholas to England and Scotland in 1238. Nicholas Vincent, in turn, traces a previously overlooked conflict, that with the king of Navarre in the 1240s, to elaborate further on the broader European context of not only Henry’s reign, but of England and the Plantagenet domains in general. To focus more on England in the often very long thirteenth century is also, not infrequently in this collection, to move into a series of discussions of high politics and government. Hui Liu discusses Matthew Paris’s treatment of John Mansel, king’s clerk to Henry III, and illustrates how the chronicler’s view of Mansel shifted in his writing as the latter’s career developed. Stephen Church, in a paper on the twelfth-century royal itinerary, describes both the ideal and the actuality of the progress of the royal court in the reign of Henry II, and presents a view of the itinerary of king’s government as not infrequently chaotic and destructive. Frédérique Lachaud’s paper on ethics and office ranges widely over the ways in which the responsibility of office was articulated in this period and, by exploring office both at the ‘national’ and at the ‘local’ level, emphasises the ways in which a sense of office helped engineer a process of engagement. Engagement of a similar kind is also evident in David Crook’s close discussion of conflict in Laxton in the thirteenth century where rivalry over property rights was played out both in local dispute and politics and in the king’s courts. Here, office-holding and a keen sense of rights as much as responsibilities informed a dispute that Crook also identifies as consistent with the discrete histories of two local families. An issue raised in Nelson’s paper on Scotland, the significance of the choice of burial place by royal women, is pursued at the level of the English aristocracy by Emma Cavell. In particular she looks at the burial – or intended burial specified in pre-mortem arrangements – of noble women in Shropshire and the marches in the long thirteenth century and argues that where a woman had access to land she enjoyed freedom of choice about religious benefactions and about the all-important place of her burial and commemoration. In a close study of the contents and manuscript context and presentation of ‘Adam of Bristol’ Robert C. Stacy argues that it was intended not for private devotional reading, but as a parish drama. His close analysis of the tale sheds considerable light on parish culture, and on Jewish-Christian relations in an urban context in thirteenth-century England. It was heartening to see how the 2005 conference continued to build on established strengths. As before, the conference attracted a good mixture of research students, post-doctoral scholars and established researchers. While the composition of the conferences keeps changing, and while a new generation of scholars has emerged as regular speakers and attendants, it was also gratifying to see that many of those who had been present or had spoken at the first conference at Newcastle in 1985 were present at Gregynog in 2005 too. This combination of innovation and tradition bodes, we think, well for the future of these meetings. In organising the 2005 conference we have incurred numerous debts. In particular, we would like to acknowledge the generous financial support received from the British Academy, the Royal Historical Society, and the University of Wales, which has been an immense help in establishing the international flavour of the conference, and which has made it possible to support many more graduate students than would

Preface

xi

normally have been the case. We would furthermore like to express our gratitude to Ellen Gethin and the staff at Gregynog, who made our stay such a memorable experience. Last, but by no means least, we would like to express our appreciation of the drive, initiative and organisational skills of those who initiated the ThirteenthCentury England conferences, and who ran them so admirably for the best part of two decades: Peter Coss, Simon Lloyd, Richard Britnell, Robin Frame and Michael Prestwich. Janet Burton, Lampeter Phillipp Schofield, Aberystwyth Karen Stöber, Aberystwyth Björn Weiler, Aberystwyth

CONTRIBUTORS

Emma Cavell, University of Cambridge Stephen Church, University of East Anglia David Crook, The National Archives Adam Davies, University of Wales, Lampeter Matthew Hammond, University of Glasgow Beth Hartland, Durham University Christian Hillen, Cologne Kathryn Hurlock, University of Wales, Aberystwyth Frédérique Lachaud, Université Paris IV (Sorbonne) Hui Liu, Taiwan National University Jessica Nelson, King’s College, University of London Robert Stacey, University of Washington, Seattle Nicholas Vincent, University of East Anglia

ABBREVIATIONS

Abbreviations

Ann. Mon. ANS BBCS Becket Materials BIHR BL BN Bodleian Burton CAC Wales CAD CARD CChR CCR CDI CDS CFR CIMisc CIPM CLR CM Complete Peerage CPL CPR CR

Annales Monastici, ed. H.R. Luard, 5 vols (RS 36, 1864–9) Anglo-Norman Studies Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, ed. J.C. Robertson, 7 vols (RS 67, 1875–85) Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research British Library, London Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris Bodleian Library, Oxford ‘Annals of Burton’, in Ann. Mon., i. 183–500 Calendar of Ancient Correspondence concerning Wales, ed. J.G. Edwards (Cardiff, 1935) A Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Deeds in the PRO (London, 1890–1915) Calendar of Ancient Records of Dublin, ed. J.T. Gilbert, 19 vols (Dublin, 1889–1944) Calendar of Charter Rolls, 6 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1903–27) Calendar of Close Rolls (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1892 onwards) Calendar of Documents relating to Ireland, ed. H.S. Sweetman, 5 vols (London, 1875–86) Calendar of Documents relating to Scotland, ed. J. Bain, 4 vols (Edinburgh, 1881–8) Calendar of Fine Rolls, 22 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1911–62) Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous, 7 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1916–68) Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem, 20 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1904–95) Calendar of Liberate Rolls, 6 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1916–64) Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, ed. H.R. Luard, 7 vols (RS 57, 1872–83) G.E. Cokayne, The Complete Peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland, Great Britain and the United Kingdom, ed. V. Gibbs and others, 12 vols (London, 1910–59) Calendar of Papal Letters, ed. W.H. Bliss and others, 13 vols in 14 (London, 1893–1955) Calendar of Patent Rolls (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1891 onwards) Close Rolls of the Reign of Henry III, 14 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1902–38)

xiv CRR CS CSMLT CStM DBM DD DNB Dunstable EcHR EETS EHD EHR FDMPV Fees Feudal Aids Flores FMST Foedera Gerald, EH HKF HMC HMDI Howden Chronica Howden, Gesta HR HRH IHS Joinville King’s Works Layettes Margam Med. Dublin

Abbreviations Curia Regis Rolls of the Reigns of Richard I, John and Henry III preserved in the Public Record Office, 17 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1922–91) Camden Society, Camden Series Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought Chartularies of St Mary’s Abbey, Dublin, ed. J.T. Gilbert, 2 vols (RS 80, 1884–6) Documents of the Baronial Movement of Reform and Rebellion 1258–1267, selected R.F. Treharne, ed. I.J. Sanders (Oxford, 1973) Diplomatic Documents 1101–1272, ed. P. Chaplais (London, 1964) Dictionary of National Biography ‘Annals of Dunstable’, in Ann. Mon., iii. 3–408. Economic History Review Early English Text Society English Historical Documents, ed. D.C. Douglas, 12 vols in 13 (London, 1953–77) English Historical Review Fuentes documentales medievales del País Vasco Liber Feudorum: The Books of Fees Commonly Called Testa de Nevill, 1198–1293 (London, 1920–31) Inquisitions and Assessments relating to Feudal Aids, with Other Analogous Documents preserved in the PRO, 1284–1431 (London, 1899–1920) Flores Historiarum, ed. H.R. Luard, 3 vols (RS 95, 1890) Frühmittelalterliche Studien Foedera, Conventiones, Litterae, et . . . Acta Publica, ed. T. Rymer, amended edition by A. Clarke and F. Holbrooke, 4 vols in 7 (London, Rec. Comm., 1816–69) Expugnatio Hibernica. The Conquest of Ireland, by Giraldus Cambrensis, ed. A.B. Scott and F.X. Martin (Dublin, 1978) W. Farrer, Honors and Knights Fees, 3 vols (London, 1923–5) Historical Manuscripts Commission Historic and Municipal Documents of Ireland A.D. 1172–1320, ed. J.T. Gilbert (RS 53, 1870) Chronica Magistri Rogeri de Houedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols (RS 51, 1868–71) Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti Abbatis, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols (RS 49, 1867) Historical Research Heads of Religious Houses in England and Wales, ii. 1216–1377, ed. D.M. Smith and V.C.M. London (Cambridge, 2001) Irish Historical Studies Jean Sire de Joinville. Histoire de Saint Louis, ed. N. de Wailly (Paris, 1874) The History of the King’s Works: The Middle Ages, ed. R.A. Brown, H.M. Colvin and A.J. Taylor, 2 vols (London, HMSO, 1963) Layettes du Tresor des Chartes, ed. H.F. Laborde and A. Teulet, 5 vols. (Paris, 1863–1909) ‘Annals of Margam’, in Ann. Mon., i. 3–40 Medieval Dublin I [etc.]: Proceedings of the Friends of Medieval Dublin Symposium, ed. S. Duffy (Dublin, 2000– )

Abbreviations MGH Mon. Ang.

xv

Monumenta Germaniae Historica Monasticon Anglicanum, ed. Sir William Dugdale and others, new edition by John Caley and others, 6 vols. (London, 1817–30) Na Buirgéisi G. Mac Niocaill, Na Buirgéisi XII–XV Aois, 2 vols (Dublin, 1964) NAI National Archives of Ireland, Dublin NLI National Library of Ireland n.s. new series Osney ‘The Chronicle of Osney’, in Ann. Mon., iv. 3–352. OV The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. M. Chibnall, 6 vols (Oxford, 1969–81) PatR Patent Rolls of the Reign of Henry III [1216–32], 2 vols (PRO Texts and Calendars, 1901–3) PL Patrologia Latina PR Pipe Rolls, published by the Pipe Roll Society PRO The National Archives: Public Record Office PRS Pipe Roll Society PW Parliamentary Writs and Writs of Military Summons, ed. F.T. Palgrave, 2 vols (London, Rec. Comm., 1827–34) RC Rotuli Chartarum in Turri Londinensi Asservati, ed. T.D. Hardy (London, Rec. Comm., 1837) Rec. Comm. Record Commission Reg. Register [of] RF Excerpta e Rotulis Finium in Turri Londinensi Asservatis, 1216–72, ed. C. Roberts (London, Rec. Comm., 1835–6) R. Gasc. Rôles Gascons, ed. F. Michel and C. Bémont, 3 vols (Paris, 1885–1904) RH Rotuli Hundredorum temp. Hen. III et Edw. I (London, Rec. Comm., 1812–18) RHF Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, 24 vols (Paris, 1793–1904) RIA Royal Irish Academy RLC Rotuli Litterarum Clausarum in Turri Londinensi Asservati, 1204–27, 2 vols, ed. T.D. Hardy (London, Rec. Comm., 1833–44) RLP Rotuli Litterarum Patentium in Turri Londinensi Asservati, 1201–16, ed. T.D. Hardy (London, Rec. Comm., 1835) Rot. Chart. Rotuli Chartarum in Turri Londoniensi Asservati, ed. T.D. Hardy, 2 vols. (London, 1837) Rot. Fin. Rotuli de Oblatis et Finibus in Turri Londinensi Asservati, ed. T.D. Hardy (London, Rec. Comm., 1835) Rot. Parl. Rotuli Parliamentorum, 6 vols (London, Rec. Comm., 1783) RS Rolls Series (Rerum Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores, 1858–96) Royal Letters Royal and Other Historical Letters Illustrative of the Reign of Henry III, 2 vols, ed. W.W. Shirley (RS 27, 1862–6) Saint-Pathus Vie de Saint Louis par Guillaume de Saint-Pathus, ed. H.-F. Delaborde (Paris, 1899) ser. series Soc. Society [of the] Soc. Antiqs. Society of Antiquaries of London SR The Statutes of the Realm, ed. A. Luders and others, 11 vols (London, Rec. Comm., 1810–28)

xvi TCE, i–x Tewkesbury TNA Torigni Trans. TRHS VCH Waverley Wendover WHR Winchester WL Worcester Wykes

Abbreviations Thirteenth Century England, 9 vols so far, i–v, ed. P.R. Coss and S.D. Lloyd; vi–x, ed. M.C. Prestwich, R.H. Britnell and R.F. Frame (Woodbridge, 1986–2003) ‘Annals of Tewkesbury’, in Ann. Mon., i. 43–182 The National Archives, see PRO Robert of Torigni, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II and Richard I, ed. R. Howlett, 4 vols (RS 82, 1884–9), iv Transactions [of the] Transactions of the Royal Historical Society The Victoria History of the Counties of England, ed. H.A. Doubleday and others (London, 1900– ) ‘Annals of Waverley’, in Ann. Mon., ii. 129–412 Rogeri de Wendover Chronica sive Flores Historiarum, ed. H.O. Coxe, 5 vols (London, English Historical Soc., 1841–4) The Welsh History Review ‘Annals of Winchester’, in Ann. Mon., ii. 3–128 The Royal Charter Witness Lists: Henry III, ed. M. Morris, List and Index Soc. 291–2 (2002); Edward I, ed. R. Huscroft, List and Index Soc. 279 (2000) ‘Annals of Worcester’, in Ann. Mon., iv. 355–562 ‘Thomas Wyke’s Chronicle’, in Ann. Mon., iv. 6–354

‘Adam of Bristol’ and Tales of Ritual Crucifixion in Medieval England1

Robert C. Stacey Stories describing the ritual crucifixion of Christian children by Jews were widely told and commonly believed by Christians throughout medieval Europe from the middle of the twelfth until the end of the sixteenth century.2 Such stories seem to have had a particular appeal in medieval England, however, for reasons that remain only partially understood.3 Between 1144, when the first allegation of ritual crucifixion was made against the Jews of Norwich, and 1290, when the entire Jewish population of England was expelled from the kingdom, at least a dozen allegations that Jews had murdered a Christian child were recorded by English chroniclers, hagiographers, or royal justices.4 Not all these cases resulted in a saint’s cult developing around the body of the murdered child. Although devotional shrines to the alleged victims of ritual crucifixion were successfully established at Norwich by c. 1150, Bury St Edmunds in 1181, and Lincoln in 1255, similar efforts at Gloucester in 1167, at London in 1244, and at Northampton in 1279 seem to have ended in failure.5 The expulsion of 1290 brought an end to the establishment of new such cults, at least in England. But the shrines at Norwich, Bury and Lincoln continued to attract pilgrims until the end of the Middle Ages, and tales of ritual crucifixion continued to be told, not only by Geoffrey Chaucer in his Prioress’s Tale, but also by John Lydgate and a number of other late medieval English authors.6 ‘Adam of Bristol’ and Tales of Ritual Crucifixion

1

An earlier version of this paper was delivered at the University of Southampton in June 2004. I am grateful to Dr Patricia Skinner and to the participants at that workshop for their kind invitation and their comments, as I am also to the participants at the 2005 Gregynog Conference. 2 For recent studies of ritual crucifixion stories, see Gavin Langmuir, Toward a Definition of Antisemitism (Berkeley and London, 1990); Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia, Trent 1475: Stories of a Ritual Murder Trial (New Haven and London, 1992) and The Myth of Ritual Murder: Jews and Magic in Reformation Germany (New Haven and London, 1988). Miri Rubin’s work on host desecration tales is very important for thinking about ritual crucifixion stories also; see in particular ‘Desecration of the Host: The Birth of an Accusation’, in Christianity and Judaism, ed. Diana Wood, Studies in Church History 29 (Oxford, 1992), 169–82; and Gentile Tales: The Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews (New Haven and London, 1999). 3 I have offered some suggestions on this subject in ‘Anti-Semitism and the Medieval English State’, in The Medieval State: Essays Presented to James Campbell, ed. J.R. Maddicott and D.M. Palliser (London and Rio Grande, 2000), 163–77. 4 Joe Hillaby, ‘The Ritual-Child-Murder Accusation: Its Dissemination and Harold of Gloucester’, Jewish Historical Studies 34 (1994–96), 69–109, esp. 86 lists ten such accusations. My estimate includes nine of Hillaby’s cases (excluding the 1192 Winchester case), along with several additional allegations of Jewish child murder that are recorded only on the eyre rolls. For these additional allegations, see Stacey, ‘Anti-Semitism and the State’, 170 n. 31. 5 Hillaby, ‘The Ritual-Child-Murder Accusation’, 69–109. 6 Studies of the Prioress’s Tale are numerous; the most recent is Roger Dahood, ‘The Punishment of the Jews, Hugh of Lincoln, and the Question of Satire in Chaucer’s Prioress’s Tale’, Viator 36 (2005), 465–91. On Lydgate’s ‘Prayer to St Robert of Bury’, see now the important article by Anthony Bale,

2

Robert C. Stacey

Despite the apparent ubiquity of the ritual crucifixion allegation in medieval England, relatively few such stories survive as properly developed saint’s lives. For William of Norwich (d. 1144), the first such martyr, we have the Vita et Passione Sancti Willelmi Martyris Norwicensis, written by Thomas of Monmouth in the third quarter of the twelfth century at Holy Trinity Priory, Norwich.7 For Hugh of Lincoln (d. 1255), we have chroniclers’ accounts by Matthew Paris in his Chronica Majora and by anonymous authors at Burton and Waverley Abbeys, along with a more or less contemporary Anglo-Norman ballad.8 For Robert of Bury (d. 1181), the saint’s life written for him by Jocelyn of Brakelond does not survive; beyond Jocelyn’s brief remarks about Robert in his Life of Abbot Samson of Bury and an equally short account by Gervase of Canterbury, we have only a narrative pictorial cycle and Lydgate’s ‘Prayer to St. Robert’, both dating from the fifteenth century, to guide us.9 The survival of an elaborate but relatively little-studied ritual crucifixion tale from medieval Bristol is therefore of considerable importance. Although the existence of this tale was first noted by Sir Humphrey Wanley in the eighteenth-century Catalogue of the Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum, its Latin text was not published until 1995, and it remains surprisingly little known by scholars of medieval England or medieval Judaism.10 I am currently working on a book on the tale which will include the Latin text with English translation, notes and commentary on the text, together with several interpretative chapters attempting to place the tale in its historical, literary, theological and liturgical setting.11 This paper presents some of the preliminary conclusions from that larger project. But since the tale itself is still so relatively little known, it may be helpful to begin with a summary of its plot, before we begin to try to analyze it.

‘ “House Devil, Town Saint”: Anti-Semitism and Hagiography in Medieval Suffolk’, in Chaucer and the Jews: Sources, Contexts, Meanings, ed. Sheila Delaney (New York and London, 2002), 185–210. On the continuing presence of Jews in the religious culture of later medieval England, the essays of Denise Despres are of great importance. See in particular ‘Cultic Anti-Judaism and Chaucer’s Little Clergeon’, Modern Philology (1994), 413–27; ‘Mary of the Eucharist: Cultic Anti-Judaism in Fourteenth-Century English Devotional Manuscripts’, in From Witness to Witchcraft: Jews and Judaism in Medieval Christian Thought, ed. Jeremy Cohen (Wiesbaden, 1996), 375–401; and ‘The Protean Jew in the Vernon Manuscript’, in Chaucer and the Jews, 145–64. 7 The Life and Miracles of St William of Norwich by Thomas of Monmouth, ed. and trans. by Augustus Jessopp and Montague Rhodes James (Cambridge, 1896). A new edition of this text (which is badly needed) has been promised by Dr Willis Johnson to appear in the Oxford Medieval Texts series. On the date of composition of this tale, see Gavin Langmuir, ‘The Knight’s Tale of Young Hugh of Lincoln’, in Towards a Definition of Antisemitism, 237–62, and the important revisions to Langmuir’s argument suggested by John M. McCulloh, ‘Jewish Ritual Murder: William of Norwich, Thomas of Monmouth, and the Early Dissemination of the Myth’, Speculum 72 (1997), 698–740. 8 CM v. 516–19, 546, 552; Ann. Mon. i. 340–6, 348 (Burton); ii. 346–8 (Waverley); Francisque Michel, Hughes de Lincoln (Paris, 1834), 1–16. 9 The Memorials of Saint Edmund’s Abbey, ed. Thomas Arnold (RS, 1890), I, 223; Gervase of Canterbury, Opera Historica, ed. William Stubbs (RS, 1879), I, 296; Bale, ‘House Devil, Town Saint’, 188–210. 10 A Catalogue of the Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum, ed. H. Wanley, continued by D. Casley, W. Hocker and C. Morton, 2 vols (London, 1759–62); revised by R. Nares, S. Shaw, J. Planta and F. Douce, 4 vols (London, 1808–12). Wanley’s description of the tale appears in vol. I of the 1808 edition, p. 484. The Latin text has been published, with a useful introduction, by Dr Christoph Cluse, ‘ “Fabula ineptissima”. Die Ritualmordlegende um Adam von Bristol nach der Handschrift London, British Library, Harley 957’, Aschkenas: Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kulture der Juden 5 (1995), 293–330. 11 I have dealt with some of the theological implications of the tale in a previous article, ‘From Ritual Crucifixion to Host Desecration: Jews and the Body of Christ’, Jewish History 12 (1998) 11–28.

‘Adam of Bristol’ and Tales of Ritual Crucifixion

3

The death and martyrdom of Adam of Bristol: A synopsis12 The story opens with an address by God to its audience, commanding the audience’s attention to ‘what the Jews have done to me in idolatrous and garrulous England’.13 Throughout the story that follows, God Himself will periodically interject comments on the action, sometimes to interpret its significance, but more often to reassure the audience that the events being described at that moment in the story took place with His own full knowledge and consent. God is thus the author of the story; but He also participates in the events the story recounts. God, in other words, plays the same dual role in Adam’s story as He does, for Christians, in the biblical story of Creation itself. A narrator’s voice then enters the tale, to introduce the Jew Samuel and his widowed sister and to inform the audience that all the events they are about to witness took place in Bristol ‘in the days of King Henry, father of the other Henry’. This was presumably meant to refer to the reign of King Henry II (1154–89), whose eldest surviving son, also named Henry (d. 1183), was crowned ‘co-king’ during his father’s lifetime and was known, therefore, as ‘the Young King’. It is just possible, however, that the author intended to refer to the reign of King Henry I (1100–35), whom people in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century England sometimes mistakenly believed to have been the father, rather than the grandfather, of King Henry II. Either way, however, the story is retrospective, with the action placed firmly in the twelfthcentury past. With these preliminaries established, Adam’s story begins with Samuel approaching his sister and asking to speak with her in a secret place. When they arrive at this secret place, Samuel tells her that on the previous day, he and his young son had gone into the city of Bristol, where they encountered a Christian boy. Pretending to be a Christian also, Samuel’s son invited the boy to follow them back to their house, where the two boys could play together and eat apples. But he cautioned the Christian boy to follow them at a distance back to their house, and to cover his face with his hood when he entered their door. As Samuel proudly declares to his sister, he had taught his son to do all this. Nor was the son an unwitting participant in his father’s crimes. The son knew clearly what the fate of his Christian playmate would be, for (as the story goes on to reveal) Samuel had crucified three other Christian boys within the past year alone, two from Bristol itself, and the third from the neighbouring suburban parish of St Mary’s, Bedminster. When the boys arrive at the Jews’ house, Samuel’s wife (who, like her son, is never named in the story) lays out a luxurious meal for them in a rear chamber of the house. Samuel, meanwhile, goes outside to make sure that none of his Christian neighbours have seen the boy enter. While Samuel is outside, his wife asks the Christian boy his name, where he lives, and who his relatives are. This provides Adam the opportunity to tell her (and the audience) not only his name, but also the fact that his father is William of Wales; that he lives in the parish of St Mary, Redcliff, just outside the city walls of Bristol; that he has two older half-brothers

12

This plot summary follows closely the one I offered in ‘From Ritual Crucifixion to Host Desecration’, 16–19. I am grateful to Ken Stow, the editor of Jewish History, for permission to reuse this material. 13 ‘quid fecerint michi Judei in Anglia ydolatra et garula’ (Cluse, 305; fol. 19r). Although I shall cite page numbers from Cluse’s published edition as well as folio numbers for all direct quotations from the text, the Latin transcriptions I offer here are my own, and have been taken directly from the Harley 957 manuscript. My readings do sometimes differ from those offered by Cluse.

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Robert C. Stacey

who are shoemakers (sutores); that his mother has just given birth to her second child the previous night; and that she is still on her sickbed. Samuel re-enters the house, and he and his wife compare notes. Having determined that Adam is from a remote part of Bristol and that no one has seen the boy enter their house, they conclude that it will be safe to crucify him. Samuel’s wife then re-enters the chamber and plies the boy with beer. But when Adam insists on going home, even after Samuel’s wife has assured him that she is his father’s niece and will return him home in the morning with gifts for his mother, Samuel springs the trap. He closes all the doors, gags and binds the Christian boy, and covers him with a linen sheet. The Jews then depart the chamber to wait for nightfall. After supper, Samuel and his son prepare a cross in their outhouse – the same location where in the previous year they had crucified three other Christian boys. A lengthy and lurid account of Adam’s crucifixion now begins, in which Samuel repeatedly identifies Adam as the Christian god and addresses him as Christ, mocking him and telling him to descend from the cross so that they might believe in him.14 In his agony, Adam cries out for help to the Virgin Mary, and specifically to St Mary of Redcliff, thus providing Samuel the opportunity to demonstrate his particular hatred for ‘that whore’.15 All three Jews then break for refreshments, leaving Adam bound, gagged, nailed and tied to his cross in the outhouse. When they return to the outhouse, Samuel once again addresses Adam as the Christian god. His wife cuts off Adam’s nose and upper lip with a bread knife, remarking as she does so, ‘Behold how beautifully the God of the Christians smiles!’16 As Adam’s face streams with blood, the Jews offer him a hot, bitter drink, of which Adam can bear to taste only a little. Samuel’s son then stabs Adam in the face with his mother’s knife. Adam begs for his life, offering his tunic and hood in return, but the Jews reject the offer. Removing Adam now from the cross, they throw his body to the ground and stomp on him. Thus far Adam’s tortures have taken place in the Jews’ outhouse, located at the back of the house beyond the chamber where the boys had played. Now, however, the three Jews drag Adam’s body to the front room of the house, where they proceed to bind him to a spit and roast him, ‘like a fat chicken’, over a great fire.17 At this point, a loud voice suddenly booms out from the unconscious Adam’s throat declaring, in Hebrew, ‘I am the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob . . . Desist, wretch, desist! It is God whom you persecute’.18 The Jews are stupefied, not least because the voice has spoken to them in Hebrew, their own language. Removing Adam from the spit, they attempt to revive him with beer. Shaken by the voice they have all heard, Samuel’s wife suggests that they put Adam to bed until he recovers consciousness and can speak to them. Samuel, however, insists upon returning him to the outhouse and nailing him once again to the cross, ‘and we will see if his Christ comes to free him from our hands’.19 Nailed back onto the cross, Adam now awakes, and Samuel’s wife questions him about what he has seen while being roasted over the fire. Adam tells them that he

14

‘Hic est deus christianorum’ (Cluse, 308; fol. 20r); ‘Ecce deus christianorum’ (Cluse, 309; fol. 20v); ‘corpus dei christianorum’ (Cluse, 309; fol. 20v). 15 ‘illa meretrix’ (Cluse, 309; fol. 20v); ‘meretricem pessimam’ (Cluse, 308; fol. 20r). 16 ‘Ecce quam pulcre ridet deus christianorum’ (Cluse, 309; fol. 20v). 17 ‘sicut gallina crassa’ (Cluse, 309; fol. 20v). 18 ‘Ego sum deus Abraham et deus Ysaac et deus Jacob . . . Desine miser desine, omnipotens est quem tu persequeris’ (Cluse, 310; fol. 21r). 19 ‘et vidiamus si venerat Christus eius liberans illum de manibus nostris’ (Cluse, 311; fol. 21r).

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had been comforted by a beautiful lady, and by a boy who kissed the wounds on Adam’s hands and feet and called him his beloved brother. The Jews ask where this boy is now, and Adam replies that he is still with him on the cross. Samuel’s wife asks Adam who the boy is, and once again a voice booms out from Adam’s throat, declaring ‘Jesus Christ the Nazarene is my name’.20 Now thoroughly terrified, Samuel’s son begs his mother to leave the chamber with him so that they can go to sleep. Samuel, however, again wonders why, if Jesus is God, He does not rescue Adam; and declares, furthermore, that if he can get his hands on the boy whom Adam has seen in the fire he will crucify him too. Samuel then stabs Adam to the heart with a knife and Adam dies, whereupon immediately the voices of thousands of angels are heard exclaiming, ‘Blessed are all the works of the lord God’.21 This is too much for Samuel’s wife, who immediately declares her intention to convert to Christianity and is promptly murdered by Samuel. Samuel then asks his son whether he also intends to convert. When the son responds that he too wishes to become a Christian like his mother, Samuel stabs him to death also. Grieving and raging at these events, Samuel digs a grave in the floor of the outhouse, into which he casts Adam’s body, the cross on which he had been crucified, and the nails and ropes by which he had been bound to the cross, swearing as he does so that he will never again crucify a Christian. After filling Adam’s grave with dirt, and smoothing the ground above it as best he can, Samuel returns to the main house. There he covers the bodies of his wife and son with a piece of rough woollen cloth. He scatters dirt over both the cloth and the floor (presumably to soak up the blood), banks the fire (a job which, the text notes, would have been done by his wife, had he not murdered her), and goes to bed. In the morning, however, when Samuel goes out to use his outhouse, he is confronted at the entrance by an angel with a fiery sword standing guard over Adam’s grave, who declares: ‘Wretch, you shall not empty your bowels here!’22 Samuel, astonished, falls backwards out the door of the privy, and decides to flee from Bristol. Noticing, however, that his clothes and sandals are still stained with blood from the previous night’s atrocities, Samuel returns to his house to wash. After locking his house securely, he decides to report all these events to his sister, and to seek her advice about what to do. Up to this point, the audience has thus been ‘eavesdropping’ on Samuel and his sister, listening in as he tells her of the events of the preceding eighteen hours. Now, however, the action of the story becomes contemporaneous. After ascertaining some further details from Samuel as to the fate of his wife and son, the appearance of the angel, and the whereabouts of Adam’s body, Samuel’s sister begins to make plans to conceal her brother’s crimes. Returning to Samuel’s house, the two of them bury his wife and son along with all their clothing beneath the floor of Samuel’s back room, the sister declaring that they will tell their fellow Jews that Samuel’s wife and son have left him without telling him where they were going. Samuel’s sister then declares her intention to go and see the angel in the outhouse, but Samuel begs her in the name of the living God not to do so, because his visage is so terrible. Because Samuel asks her in God’s name not to do this, the sister agrees not to go – at which point the voice of God Himself breaks in to declare, ‘The woman was indeed strictly faithful to her law’.23 20 21 22 23

‘Ihesus Christus Nazarenus est nomen meum’ (Cluse, 312; fol. 21v). ‘Benedicite omnia opera domini domino’ (Cluse, 312; fol. 21v). ‘Miser, hic non purgabis ventrem’ (Cluse, 314; fol. 22v). ‘Erat enim mulier ceca fidelis in lege sua, dicit dominus deus’ (Cluse, 315; fol. 23r).

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None of this, however, solves the problem of the angel in the outhouse. Samuel decides he will live with his sister for the time being, until the two of them can figure out a way to resolve the problem of Samuel’s intrusive celestial visitor. After Samuel and his sister return to her house, Samuel’s sister asks him to explain why he crucified Adam. Samuel responds that he did so to insult both Jesus and the Virgin Mary, against whom he holds a particular hatred. His sister then asks him why he hates Jesus and his mother: ‘What evil has he done to you?’ Samuel responds by declaring, ‘I hate him because he has said, “I am Christ the son of the living God.” ’ To which his sister then responds: ‘What is it to us if he said that? Let us hold to our law, which Jesus gave to us by the hand of Moses and Aaron, and that is enough for us.’24 As the story goes on to make clear, Samuel’s sister is prepared to conceal his crimes not because she has any sympathy for her brother’s criminal conduct, but rather because the entire Jewish people would be in danger if Samuel’s crimes should ever become known. The story goes out of its way, indeed, to emphasize her disapproval of her brother’s murders, and her recognition that in Adam her brother has killed ‘a holy friend of God’.25 The fact of the matter is, however, that if it should ever become known that Samuel had crucified a Christian boy, they and all the Jewish people would be destroyed by the avenging Christians. The two Jews conclude, therefore, that they will have to find a Christian priest who will, for a fee, remove Adam’s body from Samuel’s outhouse to a cemetery, without revealing his actions to anyone. Samuel’s sister finds such a man in the person of an Irish priest, newly arrived with several companions on the first stage of a pilgrimage to Rome, and so an utter stranger in Bristol. Samuel’s sister brings the priest and his companions back to her house, feeds and lodges them, pretending all the while that she and Samuel are Christians. The ruse is entirely successful. The Christians all get drunk, and the priest unsuccessfully propositions the sister’s serving maid. The entire household then retires for the night. The next morning, after first swearing the Irish priest to secrecy, Samuel and his sister explain to him that the boy buried in Samuel’s outhouse is in fact their son, who has been crucified by Jews, but whose death they wish to conceal for fear that the king’s officials, if they learn of it, will blame them for the crime in order to extort from them all their money. The two Jews then offer the priest money, for himself and his companions, if he will conceal the crime and bury the body honorably. The priest is completely taken in by this story, and after accepting the Jews’ money, goes off with his two male companions to exhume Adam’s body and remove it to a Christian cemetery outside the city walls. When the priest enters Samuel’s house, he and his two companions are met by the odour of sanctity and the sound of an angelic choir, whose singing the story describes in quite precise detail. When the priest tries to enter the outhouse where Adam is buried, however, his entrance is barred by an angel, who orders him to go first to a local parish priest to confess his sins and be cleansed of them. The Irish priest does so immediately, making his confession, in French, to a married priest of 24

‘Cui soror in secreto: “Frater, quare crucifixisti parvulum illum”? Et ille: “Ad contumeliam Christi Ihesu Nazareni dei sui, quem semper hodio habui veementer et matrem illius”. Cui soror: “Quare illum hodio habes cum matre? Vel quid mali tibi fecit?” Cui Samuel: “Nichil mali mihi fecit, sed hodio illum habui quia dixit ‘Ego sum Christus filius dei vivi.’ ” Et illa: “Quid ad nos si dixerit? Teneamus legem nostram quam dedit nobis Ihesus per manum Moysi et Aaron et sufficit nobis.” ’ (Cluse, 316; fol. 23r). 25 ‘Amicum dei sanctum interemisti’ (Cluse, 316; fol. 23r).

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the city. Returning now to Samuel’s house, the priest asks his companions what they have seen and heard in his absence, and they describe to him an elaborate ecclesiastical procession which has been entering and exiting the house, led by a woman and a boy, both dressed in purple and displaying their respective wounds. With considerable trepidation, the priest now approaches the door of the outhouse; but the angel who is guarding it pronounces his confession efficacious and admits him into the presence of the angelic host gathered around Adam’s grave. With the assistance of the angels, the priest wraps Adam’s body in linen cloth and sews it into a shroud. The angel then instructs him to return to the house of Samuel’s sister to convert both Samuel and his sister to Christianity, and to construct a wooden coffin in which to transport Adam’s body to the priest’s church in Ireland. Only at this point does the priest realize that Samuel and his sister are Jews, but it remains unclear even now whether the Irish priest fully understands that Samuel himself has murdered Adam. The priest’s efforts to convert the two Jews are perfunctory and unavailing. Samuel does, however, borrow some tools from his Christian neighbours and quickly procures some wood, out of which the priest constructs a coffin for Adam’s body. Refusing to remain any longer in what he now knows to be a Jewish house, the priest gathers up his companions, returns with the coffin to Samuel’s house, collects Adam’s body, and the entire company, including the angels, takes ship with it to Ireland. Nothing more is heard of either Samuel or his sister. After returning to Ireland, the priest buries Adam’s body in a spot revealed to him by the angel. Also by angelic command, he buries the instruments of Adam’s martyrdom – the cross, the nails, and the ropes – in the cemetery beneath his church (presumably in the crypt). The angel then orders the priest, with his companions, to resume their interrupted pilgrimage to Rome. The angel tells him, however, that when he returns to Ireland from his pilgrimage, he will have forgotten where he has buried Adam’s body and all the rest of these holy objects. This, the angel explains, is by divine decree, because God has decided that the spot shall remain hidden ‘until the day predestined by God the Father’.26 When the priest returns from Rome he has indeed forgotten the spot where Adam was buried. But he has also forgotten the angel’s promise that he would forget, and so he spends days frantically but fruitlessly searching for Adam’s grave. ‘For he had forgotten the words that the angel had spoken to him: “This place shall be unknown to you and to all human creatures until the day predestined by God the Father.” ’27 The text ends here, at the very bottom of the page, and is obviously complete as we have it. Immediately after, in red ink, the scribe who copied the text has written: ‘Amen. The book is finished. Praise and glory to Christ. May the tongue of the reader bless the body of the writer.’28

26

‘Locus autem iste ignotus erit tibi et omni humane creature usque in diem prefinitam a deo patre’ (Cluse, 327; fol. 27r). 27 ‘Oblitus enim erat sermonis quem dixerat sibi angelus: “Locus iste ignotus erit tibi et omni humane creature usque in diem prefinitam a deo patre” ’ (Cluse, 327; fol. 27r). 28 The Latin is difficult here. It reads ‘Amen finito libro sit laus et gloria Christo. Corpus scribentis benedicat lingua legentis.’ The first phrase echoes the envoi to Thomas of Celano’s Tractatus de Miraculis Beati Francisci, Analecta Franciscana 10 (1941), p. 330: ‘Finito libro sit laus et gloria Christo’. I owe this reference to Professor Adam Kosto.

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The date of the manuscript Only a single copy of the Adam of Bristol story is known to survive, in a volume of miscellaneous texts bound together during the last half of the fourteenth century.29 A century or so later, this volume apparently belonged to William Spink, prior of Holy Trinity, Norwich, from 1488 to 1502.30 We know this because at the top of folio 18v, on an otherwise blank page immediately facing the page on which the Adam of Bristol story begins, we have a notation, written in a late fifteenth- or early sixteenth-century English secretarial hand, that reads: ‘the book of Brother William Spink, monk of Norwich, price five pence’.31 Around 1700, this bound volume passed into the library of Sir Robert Harley; since 1757, it has been in the British Library, where it is now MS Harley 957. For the most part, the volume contains material typical of a fourteenth-century monastic library: extracts from various historical chronicles and from Boethius’s De Musica; two late twelfth-century copies of theological treatises that so far I have been unable to identify; selections from Propertius’s Elegies; and some tables and charts containing esoteric wisdom of various sorts. Quires 3 and 4, however, onto which the Adam of Bristol story was copied, contain a quite different selection of texts. This two-quire booklet probably circulated independently before being bound into MS Harley 957; and its contents suggest that it was initially produced for a non-monastic audience. The booklet contains three major texts. ‘Adam of Bristol’ is written in Latin, and was copied by a single scribe, who wrote in an early fourteenth-century Anglicana hand of moderate quality. The ‘Adam of Bristol’ story is rubricated and illustrated with two small illuminations that reflect a detailed knowledge of the plotline of the story. The second text, ‘The 33 Follies’, is an anonymous Anglo-Norman moralizing poem; it was copied by the same scribe (Scribe 1) who copied ‘Adam of Bristol’.32 The third major text in the booklet is Nicholas Bozon’s poem, ‘The Proverbs of Good Teaching’, written in Anglo-Norman, but with some use of both Latin and Middle English.33 This poem was copied by two

29

A table of contents for the volume, written in a late fourteenth-century hand, survives on the first, unnumbered folio of the manuscript, but there are no pressmarks to indicate whether the volume was at this date owned by Norwich Cathedral Priory. For discussion of Norwich pressmarks, see Neil R. Ker, ‘Medieval Manuscripts from Norwich Cathedral Priory’, Transactions of the Cambridge Bibliographical Society 1 (1949), 1–28. 30 On Spink, see now Joan Greatrex, Biographical Register of the English Cathedral Priories of the Province of Canterbury, c. 1066–1540 (Oxford, 1997). 31 ‘liber fratris Willelmi Spynk, monachi Norwicensis, precio 5 d’. The only other surviving book that contains Spink’s name is Manchester, John Rylands Library R32528; but the calligraphic, late-Gothic bookhand that records Spink’s ownership of this volume on Sig Ai verso is completely different from the informal secretarial hand in which Spink’s name is written in Harley 957. Cluse (294) misread the price of the Harley 957 volume as five shillings rather than five pence. Five shillings seems an altogether more likely price for such a volume, but the secretarial ‘d’ (not ‘s’) is clear. 32 This poem has been edited, and its many versions fully noted, by Tony Hunt, ‘The Anglo-Norman “Folies” Poems’, Pluteus 3 (1985), 14–32. The most recent listing of versions of this poem can be found in Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts and Manuscripts, ed. Ruth J. Dean and Maureen B.M. Boulton, Anglo-Norman Text Society, Occasional Publications Series 3 (London, 1999), 150–1, no. 266. All known copies of this poem date from the late thirteenth or early fourteenth century. 33 The standard edition of this poem is by Anders Christopher Thorn, Les Proverbes de bon enseignement de Nicole Bozon, Lunds Universitets Arsskrift, n.s. 1: 17/4 (Lund and Leipzig, 1921); for a complete list of manuscripts, see Anglo-Norman Literature, 140–41, no. 252. On Bozon, who was active from the late 1290s until the 1320s, see The Anglo-Norman Lyric: An Anthology, ed. David L. Jeffrey and Brian J. Levy (Toronto, 1990), and Les Contes Moralisés de Nicole Bozon, Frère Mineur, ed. Lucy Toulmin Smith and Paul Meyer (Paris, 1889).

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different scribes, neither of whom were the ‘Adam of Bristol’ scribe; but all three hands are sufficiently similar as to suggest that the three scribes were probably working in the same scriptorium.34 All three hands date to the early fourteenth century, most likely between 1310 and 1320; but in copying the ‘Adam of Bristol’ text, Scribe 1 seems to have gone to some trouble to make his hand look ‘old fashioned’ by adding forked ascenders, heavy shading on his diagonals and on his horizontal lines, and by lessening the tapering on his long vertical strokes. Together, these features were sufficient to make me once think the hand could have been as early as c. 1260.35 But I am now convinced that the text of ‘Adam of Bristol’ as we have it is an early fourteenth-century copy of a tale that was composed earlier: certainly before 1290, when the entire Jewish community was expelled from England, and most likely in the middle third of the thirteenth century, when the issues it addresses were particularly current. For whom might this booklet have been written? Someone with some disposable cash, obviously; but although books were without question luxury items in the early fourteenth century, this booklet was by no means a deluxe production, despite the fact that it contains two small illuminations. My guess is that when this booklet was made it would have sold for no more than a few shillings (around 1500, the entire manuscript was apparently priced at only five pence); and because it was never properly finished (the rubrication ends two-thirds of the way through the text, and the opening illuminated capital was never added), it might have sold for less than a shilling even when new.36 Nor are the three texts contained in this booklet particularly demanding, either intellectually or linguistically. Any literate French speaker with a modest knowledge of Latin would have been able to read and understand them. They strike me, indeed, as precisely the sorts of texts that an early fourteenth-century layperson might have owned and used as devotional reading. But they would have been even more useful to a cleric, who could have drawn from them the sorts of exemplary stories and proverbs that enlivened contemporary sermons. Franciscans were of course particularly notable for their vernacular preaching to the laity, and also for their fondness of incorporating French lyric poems into their sermons. Indeed, as David Jeffrey and Brian Levy have noted, ‘the vast majority of thirteenth-century Anglo-Norman lyrics that survive today are found in manuscripts compiled or transmitted by the friars’.37 All three of the texts contained in this booklet are characteristic of a style of piety with which the Franciscans were particularly associated.38 Indeed, Nicholas Bozon, the author of the ‘Proverbs of Good Teaching’, was himself an English Franciscan friar, active between the late 1290s and the 1320s, whose poems circulated mainly in Franciscan-connected manuscripts. As noted above, the scribal envoi with which the ‘Adam of Bristol’ tale ends may also point toward a Franciscan

34

I am grateful to Dr Justin Clegg and to Dr Michelle Brown of the British Library for advice on the paleography of the manuscript. 35 Stacey, ‘From Ritual Crucifixion to Host Desecration’, 15, where I described it as being from ‘the latter half of the thirteenth century’. 36 A thorough study of the price of books in the later Middle Ages would be warmly welcomed. 37 The Anglo-Norman Lyric, 3 (paraphrase). On this same point, see also David L. Jeffrey, The Early English Lyric and Franciscan Spirituality (Lincoln, Nebraska, 1975), 169–90, 210–11; and M. Dominica Legge, Anglo-Norman in the Cloisters (Edinburgh, 1950), 77–90, 110–18. 38 For Franciscan involvement in promoting a 1247 ritual murder charge at Valreas in France, see Gavin Langmuir, ‘L’absence d’accusation de meurtre rituel à l’ouest du Rhone’, Juifs et Judaïsme de Languedoc, Cahiers de Fanjeaux 12 (Toulouse, 1977), 235–49, esp. 243–4.

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connection.39 None of this is enough to prove that this two-quire booklet was a specifically Franciscan production. In both style and content, however, the ‘Adam of Bristol’ booklet would fit comfortably within a Franciscan milieu, whether lay or clerical. Situating the tale geographically Although the only known copy of the ‘Adam of Bristol’ text was preserved at Norwich, the tale was composed by someone who knew the spiritual and spatial geography of Bristol intimately. I am inclined therefore to believe that it was initially composed with a specifically Bristolian audience in mind. Adam himself was a parishioner of St Mary’s Redcliff, an extramural parish lying across the River Avon from the old walled city of Bristol. The parish from which one of Samuel’s three previous Christian victims hailed, St Mary’s Bedminster, was located just south of Redcliff. Redcliff and Bedminster were linked parishes. Both were part of the old fitz Harding fee during the twelfth century, and both remained part of the medieval diocese of Bath and Wells until the sixteenth century, when they became part of the newly created diocese of Bristol.40 Redcliff and Bedminster were thus quite separate from the old walled city of Bristol, which was located in the medieval diocese of Worcester, even though St Mary’s Redcliff is less than five minutes walking distance from the old city, even on very crowded streets. Samuel’s perception that Adam had come from a long distance away and so would not be known to his neighbours in Bristol is likely therefore to be accurate. But this is a fact only someone who knew Bristol well could have known. It is even more unlikely that an outsider writing in the mid-thirteenth century or later would have known (as our author apparently did know) that in the twelfth century, the Jews of Bristol lived at the western edge of the walled city, near the old quay but at the opposite end of town from the castle. Sometime in the middle of the thirteenth century, the Jews of Bristol left this area and moved to the opposite side of the city, near the royal castle along present-day Wine (then Winch) Street. This relocation of the Jewish community may have been connected with the massive, mid-thirteenth-century rerouting of the river system within Bristol, and with the simultaneous construction of new town walls during the 1230s and1240s; or it could have been prompted by the attacks, in 1266, on the Jewish community of Bristol by the Montfortians.41 The ‘Adam of Bristol’ story, however, imagines the geography of Bristol as it would have been prior to this relocation, with Jews living on the western edge of the city, close to the wharves where ships from Ireland would then have landed, and close too to the Jewish burial ground on Brandon Hill outside the western city walls. 39 40

On this envoi, see note 28 above. St Mary’s Redcliff was founded in the mid-twelfth century as a chapel of ease sponsored by St Mary’s Bedminster. Both churches were held by the canons of Salisbury Cathedral. Although Redcliff rapidly became much the larger of the two institutions, technically it remained subordinate to Bedminster until 1852. See Bryan Little, The City and County of Bristol: A Study in Atlantic Civilisation (London, 1954), 41–2; D.C. Douglas, ‘Bristol under the Normans’, in Essays in Bristol and Gloucestershire History: The Centenary Volume of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society, ed. Patrick McGrath and John Cannon (Bristol, 1976), 101–8; M.D. Lobel and E.M. Carus-Wilson, ‘Bristol’, in The Atlas of Historic Towns, II, ed. M.D. Lobel (London, 1975), 1–26 and maps. 41 I am grateful to Joe Hillaby for advice on this point. Hillaby inclines toward the latter date. I suspect that the move was earlier, and connected with the rebuilding during the 1230s and 1240s. Either way, however, the move took place sometime during the middle third of the thirteenth century.

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Situating the tale historically If the tale was indeed composed somewhere in the middle third of the thirteenth century, then we can see that it is engaging with many of the ‘hot button’ issues of the day. Most striking in this respect is the text’s apparent awareness of the terms in which anti-Christian polemics were being cast within the Jewish community itself. To be sure, the author frames his knowledge of some of the ways Jews talked about Christians by placing it within a typically mid-thirteenth-century Christian concern with Jews as blasphemers against the Christian god.42 But in emphasizing Samuel’s particular odium toward the Virgin Mary (‘that whore’, as he calls her); Samuel’s offense at Jesus’s claim to be the son of the living God; the mocking tone Samuel’s wife takes toward the visuality of Christian religious culture (‘how beautifully the Christian God smiles’; her description of Adam’s eyes, wide open on the cross, as being ‘like the insane God of the Christians’); and in emphasizing Samuel’s sister’s conviction that Christians seek to obliterate the memory of Jews from the face of the earth, the ‘Adam of Bristol’ author does indeed reflect the actual terms of an internal anti-Christian polemic that we can trace in contemporary Hebrew sources.43 Even Samuel’s spitting three times at the mention of the Virgin or when the Irish priest makes the sign of the cross is a halachically enjoined response to outright blasphemy. ‘Adam of Bristol’ makes one wonder, therefore, just how truly ‘internal’ and ‘secret’ anti-Christian polemic actually was amongst thirteenth-century Jews, and raises the possibility that, in England at least, Christian perceptions of Jews as blasphemers may sometimes have been rooted in real knowledge of the ways some Jews spoke and acted toward Christians when they thought it safe to do so. Apart from the issue of blasphemy, the ‘Adam of Bristol’ author is also concerned with other aspects of mid-thirteenth-century Christian/Jewish interactions. He goes out of his way to note, for example, that Samuel’s maidservant is a Christian, whereas his sister’s maidservant is a Jew. Prohibitions on Christians as servants in Jewish households were repeated regularly in thirteenth-century church councils and in royal legislation also.44 Closely connected with these prohibitions on Christians serving in Jewish households were more general concerns with Jews and Christians eating together at the same table, or engaging in other sorts of neighbourly interactions, such as attending weddings.45 What ‘Adam of Bristol’ shows us, however, is how easy and regular such neighbourly interactions apparently were between Jews and Christians in mid-thirteenth-century Bristol. We see Samuel and his family sitting out in front of their house in the evening, as did their Christian neighbours; we see Samuel chatting easily with his neighbours, and so being quickly able to determine that none of them have seen Adam enter his house; and Samuel is also immediately able to borrow carpenter’s tools from them with no questions asked. But the tale also shows us how dangerous such neighbourliness could be, because by interacting with Samuel in these ways, his Christian neighbours unwittingly facilitate Samuel’s crimes. The story shows us, therefore, not only how ‘necessary’

42

J.A. Watt, ‘The English Episcopate, the State, and the Jews: The Evidence of the Thirteenth-Century Conciliar Decrees’, TCE, ii, 37–47; Jeremy Cohen, The Friars and the Jews: The Evolution of Medieval Anti-Judaism (Ithaca, 1982). 43 See, for example, the Nizzahon Yashan in David Berger, The Jewish-Christian Debate in the High Middle Ages (Philadelphia, 1979). 44 Watt, ‘The English Episcopate’, collects the key references. 45 Bishop Swinfield’s prohibitions on Christians attending a Jewish wedding at Hereford in 1286 are well known: see Cecil Roth, A History of the Jews in England, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1964), 20.

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thirteenth-century efforts to segregate Jews from Christians were perceived to be,46 but also how unavailing such efforts could be in the absence of local knowledge. The Irish priest and his companions did not recognize Samuel, his sister, or her maidservant, as Jews; and there was apparently nothing in either Samuel’s or his sister’s house, apart from the sister’s refusal to serve them pork, that would have tipped them off that they were residing in a Jewish household. Samuel’s neighbours, of course, did try to warn them; but their warning failed because the priest himself had already entered the house and so did not hear the shouted warning, while the priest’s Irish companions, who did hear the neighbours’ shouts, did not understand them because the Irishmen did not understand English. As this incident may suggest, issues of language and identity clearly preoccupy our author, who pays extraordinary attention to the different language each character speaks at different moments in the drama.47 Samuel and his sister speak English, French and Hebrew, but no Irish. The Irish priest speaks Irish, French, Latin and some English. His Irish companions, however, speak only Irish, and therefore cannot understand the shouted warnings, in English, of Samuel’s neighbours that they are about to enter a Jewish house. A married priest of Bristol takes the Irish priest’s confession in French. When the Virgin Mary speaks to Adam, she does so in English; although Adam apparently understands some French, he speaks only English himself. God the Father speaks Latin, but God the Son speaks Hebrew, to the astonishment of Samuel and his family who declare the language to be unknown to any of the Christians of Bristol. What ought we to make of this attention to language? We might begin by observing that our author’s interest in language as a marker of identity is characteristic of mid-thirteenth-century English culture more generally. The famous remark in the Flores Historiarum about Simon de Montfort’s partisans treating as an enemy anyone who did not speak English is a case in point.48 Even more significant for our story, however, is the growing suspicion that English Christians felt toward Hebrew. In the late twelfth century, England had been one of the European centres for Christian Hebraism.49 Some of this interest had continued into the thirteenth century, particularly among the English Franciscans in the circle around Bishop Robert Grosseteste.50 By the 1250s, however, the tide was turning. In the 1220s, when a Christian deacon converted to Judaism, he was induced to do so by the beauty of his Jewish lover.51 In the 1270s, however, when another cleric, the Dominican Robert of Reading, also converted to Judaism, he was seduced into apostasy by his study of the Hebrew language, which led him to conversion and death.52 The ‘Adam of Bristol’ 46

On the enforcement (or non-enforcement, at least prior to 1253) of the Jewish badge in England, see Nicholas Vincent, ‘Two Papal Letters on the Wearing of the Jewish Badge, 1221 and 1229’, Jewish Historical Studies 34 (1994–6), 209–24. 47 This and the following paragraph are drawn from my article, ‘Jews and Christians in Twelfth-Century England: Some Dynamics of a Changing Relationship’, in Jews and Christians in Twelfth-Century Europe, ed. Michael A. Signer and John Van Engen (Notre Dame, 2001), 344–5. 48 Flores Historiarum, ed. H.R. Luard (RS, 1895), II, 481. 49 Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1952), 186–95, 235; Raphael Loewe, ‘The Medieval Christian Hebraists of England: Herbert of Bosham and Earlier Scholars’, Transactions of the Jewish Historical Society of England 17 (1953), 225–49; Beryl Smalley, The Becket Conflict and the Schools (Oxford, 1973), 73–4. 50 Deeana Copeland Klepper, ‘Nicholas of Lyra and Franciscan Interest in Hebrew Scholarship’, in Nicholas of Lyra: The Senses of Scripture, ed. Philip Krey and Lesley Smith (Leiden, 2000), 289–311. 51 F.W. Maitland, ‘The Deacon and the Jewess’, Roman Canon Law in the Church of England: Six Essays (London, 1898), 158–79. 52 The Chronicle of Bury St Edmunds, 1212–1301, ed. Antonia Gransden (London, 1964), 58.

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author seems to have caught this gathering wave of suspicion; for him, Hebrew is a secret language in which Jews plot their crimes. In mid-thirteenth-century England, linguistic difference was thus coming to be seen as dangerous in ways it had not previously been; and Hebrew, like French, was now being portrayed as a language that might threaten the well-being of Englishmen. The eucharistic concerns of this text will need little urging.53 Samuel addresses the crucified Adam directly as ‘the God of the Christians’ and as ‘the body of the Christians’ God’.54 Jesus, in the form of a young boy, accompanies Adam on the Cross, while God the Father declares that it is He whom the Jews are torturing. Samuel’s wife cuts Adam’s nose and lip with a bread knife. Adam’s roasting over a fire also has eucharistic overtones, establishing links with both the well-known ‘Jew of Bourges’ tale, in which a Jewish father throws his own son into an oven when the son reports having seen the Christ child present in a Eucharistic host (the son is preserved, unharmed, by the Virgin Mary), and with the baking of the eucharistic host itself, prior to its consecration as the body of Christ. The tortures inflicted upon Adam – stomping, burning, stabbing – are also typical of the abuse Jews were accused of perpetrating upon the eucharistic bread in host desecration stories.55 Nor should we ignore the significance of Adam’s name as yet another way of identifying Christ, the second Adam, with the crucified child martyr of Bristol. Even the interest shown by the tale in the integrity and efficacy of confession has eucharistic significance. The Irish priest, no paragon of personal holiness to be sure, must first confess his sins and be absolved of them before he can approach Adam’s broken and martyred body, just as all Christians after 1215 were required to confess their sins before presenting themselves to receive the eucharist. This interest in confession is also, however, part of a larger interest the tale exhibits in the state of the clergy and in the spiritual obligations of the laity. The author goes out of his way to emphasize that the Irish priest’s confession was efficacious, even though it was made to a priest who was living in sin with a wife. The tale also devotes special attention to the prayers every layperson would have been expected to know, the Pater Noster and the Ave Maria, and to such marks of Christian good manners as saying grace before meals, saying thank you when handed something, kneeling before the cross, and pronouncing a blessing upon a house when one enters it for the first time. There is an equally striking attention paid in the tale to the distinctions between legitimate marriage and concubinage, not only in its criticism of the married clergy of Bristol, but also in the careful distinction Adam himself makes between his father’s legitimate marriage to Adam’s mother and his irregular liaison with the mother of Adam’s two elder half-brothers. So what sort of a story is this? The scribe who copied it described it as a book (liber); and the text itself does exhibit several features that suggest it was intended to be read. Rubrications, illuminated initials, and two illustrations that have been located quite precisely with respect to the textual passages they illustrate – all contribute to what has been called a ‘grammar of legibility’. But the placement of the rubrications suggests something more than merely a desire for legibility. Each paragraph in the text was intended to be set off by a red rubrication mark, the placement of which was indicated by the scribe so as to set

53 54 55

I have argued this case at much greater length in ‘From Ritual Crucifixion to Host Desecration’. See note 14 above. Rubin, Gentile Tales, passim.

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each speaker’s lines off into a separate paragraph. The text is meant to be read, in other words, as a dramatic dialogue. This dramatic structure is further emphasized by the fact that the text introduces each new speaker (and hence each new paragraph) with a set phrase: ‘Cui puer’; ‘cui Judeus’; etc. We could typeset it, in other words, using the modern conventions for what a dramatic text ‘should’ look like, with only minimal rearrangement of its early fourteenth-century paragraphing.56 Dialogue, of course, is a common literary technique in medieval narrative. We cannot simply leap from the fact that ‘Adam of Bristol’ is written in dialogue form to the conclusion that it must therefore be a drama. But there is more evidence than simply dialogue to suggest that what we have here is a tale that was intended to be performed as a drama. First is the fact, already noted, that there is no narrator’s voice in this story, except insofar as God himself functions in that role in the tale’s opening lines. And God, of course, is present throughout the tale, commenting on the action to the audience. Apart from the opening paragraph setting the scene, which might have been delivered by the actor playing God, the rest of the tale’s narration is really stage direction. There is nothing, in other words, that an audience would need to know to understand the action in this tale that could not be conveyed directly by the actions and speeches of its characters on a stage. The tale is also intensely visual. No other ritual crucifixion story goes to such lurid lengths in describing the tortures inflicted upon its victim; and none has anything approaching the slapstick humor of Samuel trying to bank his fire or do his laundry; much less Samuel being knocked backwards out the door of his own privy by an angel with a flaming sword. The two illuminations in the text may also have performative significance, by illustrating the costuming of Samuel, his wife and son, and the staging of Adam’s crucifixion in the privy. The background to the illustration of Adam’s crucifixion may even be showing us a scene on a theatrical platform, with a brocaded cloth embroidered with fire-breathing demons serving as a backdrop to the action.57 The other piece of evidence that pulls in the direction of seeing this as a drama meant to be performed is the tale’s attention to the musical settings of the hymns and antiphons sung by the angelic choir surrounding Adam’s tomb. This choir is described as performing ‘like a body of singing monks, with thousands of thousands of boys singing the highest of the three parts, one among them singing above all the others, singing with thousands in organo, with ineffable sweetness, and saying “To God alone be all honor and glory, forever and ever, amen” ’.58 Later on, the choir sings the entirety of the Benedicite hymn (the ‘Canticle of the Holy Innocents’) from Daniel 3.57–88, complete with antiphonal variations on ‘quia dignatus est nasci de gloriosa virgine Maria’, ‘the choir singing the lower part in a softer voice, the angels, in three parts, singing in a high voice in organo with a most ineffable 56

As Carol Symes has noted, the presumptions created by such modern typesetting conventions have almost certainly caused scholars to overlook a number of medieval texts which might in fact be dramas, but which do not ‘look like’ dramas on the manuscript page. In fact, we know very little about what a medieval dramatic text ‘should’ look like. Carol Symes, ‘The Appearance of Early Vernacular Plays: Forms, Functions, and the Future of Medieval Theater’, Speculum 77 (2002), 778–831. 57 I am grateful to Professor Carol Symes and to Professor Sara Lipton for observations and advice on these points. 58 ‘quasi corum monachorum canencium cum millesies milibus puerorum trefarie altissime canencium, ordine trefario, unus autem ex millenis milibus superius precinebat canens cum milibus in organo dulcedinis ineffabilis et dicens: “Soli deo honor et gloria in secula seculorum amen” ’ (Cluse, 322; fols 25r–25v). I am grateful to Benjamin Albritton for advice on the musical terminology and descriptions in these passages.

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sweetness, and so they sang all the verses of the hymn distinctly and clearly’.59 After a short break, the choir then sings Psalm 148 (Laudate dominum de caelis, laudate eum in excelsis) and finishes up with a rousing Te Deum.60 None of this, I would suggest, is precisely what we would expect in a tale composed for private devotional reading, not least because, as readers, we are given only a few of the words the angels actually sang. The settings, words and antiphons are indicated in the text, but they are not recorded in extenso. What we have here, I believe, are performance notes for a musical director who would already have known the words and settings, and who simply needed to know which pieces and settings went where.61 I want to suggest, therefore, that what lies behind the tale of ‘Adam of Bristol’ as we have it is a parish drama that would have been played in (or immediately outside of) the church of St Mary, Redcliff, on the fifteenth day of August, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The association with the Assumption is clearly indicated in the tale: Adam was crucified during the night preceding the vigil of the Assumption, and his body was translated to Ireland on the feast day itself. Most likely this drama would have been played at Redcliff on the morning of the Assumption, probably by combining Lauds, which would have featured Psalm 148, with Matins which, on major feast days, ended with a Te Deum in the Sarum rite.62 Where, why, and for whom this tale was initially composed are questions I cannot at present answer. Nor can I shed much light as yet on the significance this tale might have had for the parish life of St Mary’s Redcliff, or for the lives of the Jewish residents of thirteenth-century Bristol. These are subjects I hope to consider at another time. If, however, I am right in suggesting that behind this text there lies a local parish drama performed at Redcliff in honour of the Virgin Mary on the Feast of her Assumption, then the extraordinary tale of Adam of Bristol takes on an additional importance. Not only does this tale open a window onto Jewish-Christian relations in thirteenth-century Bristol, it also offers precious evidence of the links between anti-Semitism and the development of early English drama.

59

‘coro canente inferius in voce mediocri, angelis trefaria in voce sublimi in organo dulcissimo superius precinentibus. Et sic canebant omnes versus ymni distincte et aperte’ (Cluse, 324; fol. 26r). 60 Cluse, 325, 327; fols 26v, 27r. 61 On the role of professional music directors in early drama, see Richard Rastall, The Heaven Singing: Music in Early English Religious Drama (Cambridge, 1996), 85–7. 62 Andrew Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts for Mass and Office: A Guide to their Organization and Terminology (Toronto, 1981), 50–68.

Ethics and Office in England in the Thirteenth Century

Frédérique Lachaud In medieval England, contemporary debate regarding the behaviour of royal officers seems to have developed alongside the growth in administration. Among the demands of the political community, the better control of the activity of officials ranked high. Documents of the period of crisis of 1258–1265, for instance, show that this question was one of the major concerns of the reformers. The Provisions of Oxford arranged for four knights in each county to hear all complaints against sheriffs and other officials, and stated firmly that one of the justiciar’s duties was to control the activity of lesser judges and officials. And the gravamina presented in January 1264 to Louis IX by the reforming barons listed the abuses of royal agents: the corruption of escheators, the disastrous consequences of the sale of county farms. The fact that justice was denied or delayed was also denounced as were the bad practices of guardians of vacant churches and the abuse of the right of purveyance.1 It is probably impossible to estimate the level of corruption among royal – or baronial – officials, and it has been suggested that the protests were also aimed at what was perceived as an intrusive government.2 However, the royal government was aware of the need for reform: if the king wished to preserve his prerogative when it came to nominate and control his ministers, he also responded to some of the attacks against his officials. Purges of royal administrators, for instance, demonstrated the goodwill of the crown. Enquiries into the behaviour of royal officers were regularly set up, and encouraged the population to voice their discontent. And some contemporaries saw parliaments as a means to obtain redress against the royal family and their agents: the Mireur a Justices, a late thirteenth-century tract on the judicial system, declares that all wrongs done by the king, the queen, their children or their ‘especiaus’, should be judged in parliaments.3 Ethics and Office

1 Provisions of Oxford, 1 and 16, DBM, 98 and 206; ibid., 268–78, for the gravamina. These are analysed in Robert C. Stacey, ‘Crusades, Crusaders, and the Baronial gravamina of 1263–1264’, TCE, iii, 137–50. 2 On the question of the corruption of sheriffs, see for instance R. Gorski, The Fourteenth-Century Sheriff: English Local Administration in the Late Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 2003), 102ff. The intrusive character of Angevin government has been the subject of some debate: J.C. Holt, Magna Carta, 2nd edn (Cambridge, 1992), 45, and Susan Reynolds, Kingdoms and Communities in Western Europe, 900–1300, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1997), 267: ‘When there were complaints, they were of corruption and oppression in practice, not of the principle of royal control.’ For the abuses of royal officers as a consequence of the crown’s fiscal policies, see J.R. Maddicott, ‘Magna Carta and the Local Community 1215–1259’, Past and Present cii (1984), 25–65, at 27. 3 W.J. Whittacker, ed., The Mirror of Justices, with an introduction by Frederic William Maitland (Selden Society 7, 1895 for 1893), I, ii, 7. This text raises particular issues, since most of its attacks against the contemporary legal system seem unsound. As a political and moral tract, however, it certainly deserves attention: in particular, the author explains that he wants to restore the ancient laws of the

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The impression of widespread corruption and malpractice among office-holders is deepened by the existence of a significant tradition of satire and criticism of ‘curiales’ and officials. The origins of what amounts to a literary genre may be due, to some extent, to the hostility of reforming churchmen to the role played by clerics in lay administration, and much of it should not, perhaps, be taken at face value. But the negative view of officers built up by these works, with their insistence on corruption, negligence, greed and moral turpitude, still tarnishes the image of the medieval office.4 Other sources, however, may provide a more favourable view of the place and role of officers in society and administration and, in particular, of the ethical standards they were required to follow. Household ordinances are generally more concerned with the technicalities of office than with the morality of officers. But a document such as the project drawn up in 1305 by the Scottish commissioners for the establishment of the Scottish king, for instance, does include considerations on the virtues the main officers of the kingdom were asked to cultivate. The chancellor was expected to know the laws of the land and the forms of chancery, and needed to be wise, suitable, circumspect and impartial. The auditors of accounts were to be discreet, as well as being men of substance. The treasurer of the household was supposed to be loyal and close to the king. As for the justices, they were meant to know the law and uphold it, and to be just to rich and poor alike, a demand equally made from the sheriffs; in addition, they had to devote their efforts to the maintenance and governance of the king’s right.5 Oaths sworn by officers also reflect the moral standards that were meant to regulate their activity. Legal and administrative treatises often reproduce them: in Bracton, for instance, the oath of justices states that they shall judge rich and poor alike, to the best of their ability. They shall observe the assize according to the articles set out, and execute all that is right and just in matters pertaining to the crown of the lord king. In the tract on manorial administration called Husbandry, the clerk in charge of the accounts has to swear that he shall render a true account, and administer honestly what he will receive from his lord, and spend it loyally, and put nothing in his roll apart from what he will have spent for his lord.6 kingdom, and this is the subject of a long chapter on abuses of the law. On this aspect, see D.J. Seipp, ‘The Mirror of Justices’, in Learning the Law: Teaching and the Transmission of the Law in England 1150–1900, ed. J.A. Bush and A. Wijffels (London and Rio Grande, 1999), 85–112. 4 The development of the genre since Antiquity is traced in Thomas Szabó, ‘Der mittelalterliche Hof zwischen Kritik und Idealisierung’, in Curialitas. Studien zu Grundfragen der höfisch-ritterlichen Kultur, ed. Josef Fleckenstein, Veröffentlichungen des Max-Planck-Instituts für Gesgichte 100 (Göttingen, 1990), 350–91. Some of the criticism of clerics engaged in administration goes back to the Liber de Consideratione addressed to Pope Eugenius by Saint Bernard, I, iii and vi: Jean Leclercq, Henri Rochais and C.H. Talbot, eds, S. Bernardi Opera, III, Tractatus et Opuscula (Rome, 1963), 397 and 401–2. On this theme, see C. Stephen Jaeger, The Origins of Courtliness: Civilizing Trends and the Formation of Courtly Ideals 939–1210 (Philadelphia, 1985), 54–66, and R.V. Turner, The English Judiciary in the Age of Glanvill and Bracton, c. 1176–1239 (Cambridge, 1985), 3–5. 5 M. Bateson, ‘The Scottish King’s Household’, The Juridical Review xiii (1901), 405–422, at 408 and 411, and xiv (1902), 35–44, at 39–42. 6 G.E. Woodbine and S.E. Thorne, eds, Bracton: De Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae. On the Laws and Customs of England, vol. II (Cambridge, Mass., 1968), 309. These oaths are analysed in P. Brand, ‘Ethical Standards for Royal Justices in England, c. 1175–1309’, The University of Chicago Law School Round Table, viii (2001), 239–79. Husbandry, 1, in D. Oschinsky, ed., Walter of Henley and Other Treatises on Estate Management and Accounting (Oxford, 1971), 418. Dr Oschinsky suggests that tracts on administration were probably meant for the instruction of a section of the legal profession. The most significant treatises, Walter of Henley, Seneschaucy, Husbandry, as well as the Rules of Robert Grosseteste in Latin and in Anglo-Norman, are edited in Oschinsky, ed., Walter of Henley, passim. For the signifi-

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One should not underestimate the value of the oath as a binding act. It engaged the officer personally. Furthermore, swearing an oath assumed a public and ritualised form: the late thirteenth-century legal treatise called Britton states that, before taking the oath, officials have to hand in the symbol of their office, which is given back to them at the end of the ceremony. And breaking an oath brought the threat of eternal punishment on the sinner. In his Communiloquium, a widely successful handbook for preachers written in the 1260s or early 1270s, the Franciscan friar John of Wales explains that judges are bound by their oath to observe the laws and to administer justice truthfully, and refers to the sacred character of the gospels, which are placed in front of the judging seat. Moreover, the violation of an oath brought public opprobrium on the culprit: this at least is suggested by a passage from the great ‘ordonnance’ of reform issued by Louis IX in December 1254, which insists on the public performance of the oath as a way to bring confusion and shame on the officer who should not respect it.7 Oaths are an obvious source for the knowledge of ethical standards of office, and should be systematically collected and studied. It may be possible, however, to recover moral prescriptions for officials from a wider range of sources, and, in particular, from didactic texts.8 The diffusion, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, of a didactic literature dealing with the moral requirements of office may be seen in the context of the development of preaching ad status. But it is also evidence of the desire of the literate classes for instruction and improvement, and it probably contributed to the formulation of the ethical foundation of the expanding professions.9 Following the example set by the research of Enrico Artifoni on the cance of oaths, see Janet Coleman, ‘Scholastic Treatments of Maintaining One’s fama (reputation/good name) and the Correction of Private ‘Passions’ for the Public Good and Public Legitimacy’, Cultural and Social History. The Journal of the Social History Society ii (2005), 23–48, at 39. The universal use of oaths has led to the description of twelfth- and thirteenth-century society as a ‘sworn society’: Paolo Prodi, Il sacramento del potere. Il giuramento politico nella storia costituzionale dell’Occidente (Bologna, 1992), chapter IV. 7 Francis Morgan Nichols, ed., Britton, I, iii, vol. I (Oxford, 1865), 21; John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 4, ed. Venice, 1496, fol. 44v. after John of Salisbury, Policraticus, V, 12.Writing on the oath of judges, John of Wales refers to Cicero’s De Officiis, and, in particular, to the passage (III, x, 43) where Cicero writes that one should never act, for the sake of a friend, against the res publica, an oath (‘contra ius iurandum’) or faith. The main source of inspiration, however, for the sections that deal with the control of officials, is the Policraticus of John of Salisbury: John of Wales reproduces large extracts from the Institutio Traiani, which he intersperses with anecdotes drawn from the works of Valerius Maximus and Aulus Gellius (for the general exposition of the metaphor of the body politic, see John of Salisbury, Policraticus, V, ii, ed. C.I. Webb, vol. I (Oxford, 1909), 282–4).The Communiloquium is analysed in Jenny Swanson, John of Wales: a Study of the Works and Ideas of a Thirteenth-Century Friar (Cambridge, 1989). For the influence of the Policraticus on the Communiloquium, see Walter Ullmann, ‘John of Salisbury’s Policraticus in the Later Middle Ages’, repr. in Jurisprudence in the Middle Ages. Collected Studies (London, 1980), VI, 519–545, at 524–5. The text of the French ‘ordonnance’ is edited in Ordonnances des rois de France de la troisième race, ed. Eusèbe-Jacob de Laurière, vol. I (Paris, 1723), 67–73. 8 On courtesy literature, see in particular J. Nicholls, The Matter of Courtesy: Medieval Courtesy Books and the Gawain-Poet (Woodbridge, 1985), 73; C. Stephen Jaeger, The Origins of Courtliness and idem, ‘Courtliness and Social Change’, in Cultures of Power: Lordship, Status, and Process in Twelfth-Century Europe, ed. T.N. Bisson (Philadelphia, 1995), 287–309. 9 G. Hesketh, ed., La Lumere as Lais by Pierre d’Abernon of Fetcham, vol. III, Anglo-Norman Texts LVIII (London, 2000), 6. While Latin texts were probably meant for studying in schools, the multiplication of vernacular translations and adaptations suggests a growing audience among the elite (Nicholls, The Matter of Courtesy, 70–1). The definition of literacy as a ‘communal skill’ suggests a much wider audience for this kind of text than strict ownership. Nicholas Orme, ‘Lay Literacy in England, 1100–1300’, in England and Germany in the High Middle Ages, ed. Alfred Haverkamp and Hanna Vollrath, Studies of the German Historical Institute London (London, 1996), 35–56, esp. 56. Most suggestive is the notion of ‘textual communities’, resting on the will of users of texts ‘to assign authority

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political culture of Italian cities in the thirteenth century, we may attempt to trace the elements, within the body of didactic literature, that may have played a role in this development in England.10 This will be done here for lay officers on the basis of a sample of texts representing proverbial and courtesy literature, literature linked to preaching, as well as administrative and legal treatises.11 The art of office: general prescriptions Proverbial literature and courtesy books were devoted to the social and moral education that could contribute to upward social mobility. Prescriptions concerning the control of one’s gestures and speech, as well as moral instruction of a prudential nature, which drew heavily on Old Testament teaching and on Stoic philosophy, were meant to facilitate social promotion. It was within this context that moral advice for office-holders was formulated. A number of proverbs, for instance, were relevant to the conduct of officers: among the Disticha Catonis, which was the staple of education for schoolchildren, and which was translated several times into the vernacular, one finds precepts such as ‘Keep an oath’, ‘Be conversant with the law’, ‘Judge fairly’, or ‘Accept the law which you yourself made.’12 Treatises on courtesy offered similar recommendations, starting with the general statement that since the social promotion brought by office is insecure, the officers ought to show prudence in their behaviour towards their inferiors. In the Urbanus Magnus, a doctrinal attributed to a certain Daniel of Beccles, who was probably active in the late twelfth and early thirteenth century, the promotion to office is said to take away true friendships and true honours. The steward of a great lord, for instance, must not forget the name of his friend, because his office does not give him hereditary rights. If the lord changes his mind, his power also will change. Indeed, says Daniel, the cheerful love of the rich is often heavy and bitter. And if the prosperous officer is accompanied by a strong following, this suddenly disappears when he loses his office. At this point, the author inserts the monologue of a man who laments his demise: ‘Woe to me, I am now alone, only the storm pushes me forward. I am in eclipse; I was formerly a man, presently I am no man. I used to be the chatty fire, now I am only ashes, my strength is destroyed; those I destroyed now destroy me. I am undone by my cruel actions, the orders I gave are disobeyed.’13 to texts and [on] their ability to interpret the messages contained therein’: C.F. Briggs, ‘Historiographical Essay. Literacy, Reading and Writing in the Medieval West’, Journal of Medieval History xxvi (2000), 397–420, at 405, referring to B. Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, 1983). 10 E. Artifoni, ‘L’éloquence politique dans les cités communales (XIIIe siècle)’, Cultures Italiennes (XIIe–XVe siècle), ed. I. Heulland-Donat (Paris, 2000), 269–96, at 275–7. 11 There is a specific literature on the subject of ecclesiastical and, in particular, monastic offices (Nicholls, The Matter of Courtesy, chapter II: ‘Courtesy and the Religious Orders’). This probably inspired many considerations on lay office, but it is too vast a subject to be entered into here. 12 W. Duff and A.M. Duff, eds, Minor Latin Poets, vol. II (Cambridge, Mass., new edn 1982), 594 and 596. For the influence of this work on medieval literature, see Nicholls, The Matter of Courtesy, 15–16 and 62. In England, the Disticha Catonis were translated twice into French in the course of the twelfth century: E. Stengel, ed., Elie’s de Wincesttre, eines Anonymus und Everarts Übertragungen der Disticha Catonis, in H. Kühne and E. Stengel, eds, Maître Elie’s Überarbeitung der ältesten französischen Übertragung von Ovid’s Ars amatoria, Ausgaben und Abhandlungen aus dem Gebiete der romanischen Philologie XLVII (Marburg, 1886). 13 J. Gilbart Smyly, ed., Urbanus Magnus Danielis Becclesiensis (Dublin and London, 1939), 56, lines 1642–67, in particular 1656–61: ‘Amissam recolens balliuam Ve mihi dicet/ Ve mihi iam soli, quem sola procella procellat./ Eclipsim patior, homo dudum, nun homo nullus./ Garrula tunc flamma fueram, nunc pene fauilla;/ Vincitur en mea uis; quos uici, uincor ab illis./ Ob fera facta mea pereo, pereunt mea iussa.’

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In particular, officers acting in courts ought to show some moderation in their behaviour towards those who are subjected to them: ‘If you are the main officer of a magistrate/ Be like spring with those who are subjected to you, and not like winter./ Your mind must not be corruptible or greedy./ Subtle administrator, do not take example on the hunter or the bird-catcher/ Do not place the net or glue to catch those who are careless.’ Furthermore, the newly promoted officer should refrain from oppressing his neighbours. As for those who suffer as a consequence of an official’s misbehaviour, patience is their only recourse, says Daniel; but they may watch out for an opportunity to diminish his power.14 It is probably in the Secretum Secretorum that the most detailed prescriptions concerning the behaviour and morality required from officials are to be found. This work, which exists in two Arabic versions that were translated into Latin in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, purports to contain the advice given to Alexander by Aristotle. It is a mixture of precepts on good manners, politics and health, as well as astrology and physiognomics, which probably accounts for its success and its several translations and adaptations in the vernacular. In the chapter entitled ‘De consiliariis’, next to some specific prescriptions on counsellors, the author outlines what makes good ministers (‘baiuli’). These directions seem to concern the ministers close to the king, but the text is ambiguous and may be taken as having some value for office-holders in general. The physical qualities of the ‘baiuli’ must be adequate to their task, and they should have a good complexion (i.e. of their humours). Temperance is required from them, whether temperance in speech – they must not talk or laugh too much –, in sexual behaviour, or in the use of food and drink. Neither must they take part in games and similar pleasurable activities. As for their intellectual qualities, these range from a good and quick understanding to open-mindedness, an excellent memory and a capacity to examine matters with attention and penetration. A good knowledge of all sciences and in particular of arithmetic is also required from them. In addition, they should know how public money is spent, and be kept informed of what is going on in the kingdom, which they can achieve by being hospitable and by enquiring for news from visitors. Some prescriptions concern their manners and behaviour in society: they should be courtly and affable, and answer questions after proper deliberation. Their speech should be quiet, articulate and eloquent. Moreover, officers should have good morals and magnanimous intentions. They should love honour and always tell the truth, and look for what is good for the dignity and government of the prince: in that they must persevere with audacity, without fear or weakness. Finally, a few precepts give an idea of the way officers ought to behave towards the subjects of the prince. They have to be good, and love the person who is close to them as well as the one who is far. More generally, they have to be just, giving everybody their due, helping the oppressed and those who have suffered injury, and not making any difference between persons or ranks. They must not complain about anybody unless it is in a court of justice, and they must comfort the subjects of the prince by bringing them consolation in adversity, agreeing occasionally to their demands, and tolerating their 14

Ibid., 62, lines 1838–42 (‘Si sis primalis antistitis officialis,/ Esto uernalis subiectis, non hyemalis./ Non tua uenalis sit mens nec marsupialis./ Presulis argutus non sis uenator et auceps/ Incautis laqueos uiscum pretendere noli.’) and 56–7, lines 1668–75. A similar line is found in the Communiloquium, where John of Wales reproduces an anecdote taken from the life of Saint Basil, about a poor woman who had been despoiled of her goods by an officer. The intercession of Basil did not bring an immediate relief: it was only after being disgraced and thrown into jail that the official agreed to offer compensation (John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 3, fol. 40v).

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simplicity. Finally, the ‘baiulus’ must love the life of the king and yearn to obey him, he should be ready to place his person and his goods to his service, and he must encourage the subjects to love their king.15 Prescriptions regarding particular offices These precepts reflect the demands created by office-holding, but they are to be understood in the context of a comprehensive prudential instruction, and were the upshot of advice on deportment. Next to these general recommendations, however, didactic works also offer some specific advice on particular offices. This may be a response to the growing diversification of administration in the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as well as to the fact that some officers were in the process of becoming professionals and would have needed to define more precisely the ethical requirements of the new social order they belonged to. Advisers and ‘familiares’ The prescriptive literature deals at length with the officials who form the close entourage of the prince. Following John of Salisbury, John of Wales compares the ‘ministri principis sive camerarii et cubilarii’ to the sides of the natural body. These ‘curiales’ are warned against seven vices: ambition, flattery, the improper acceptance of gifts, the imprudent sale of offices, the simulation of friendship, calumny and the spoliation of the poor, and, finally, taking part in voluptuous feasts. Ambition comes in for particular attention: how may one serve equity, says John of Wales, when one is greedy for power? And the man who seeks glory often behaves unjustly. John of Wales also urges secular princes to follow the advice given by Saint Bernard to Pope Eugenius III: ‘collaterales’ and ministers must be chosen for the honour of the prince and the utility of the ‘res publica’. They must be free of all vice, they must not be enemies of God, they must possess virtues in abundance, be industrious, have honest morals, and, finally, they have to be experts in their art. Such were the ministers of Solomon (I Kings 4). Furthermore, they must love their lord, serve him with a sincere fidelity, seek his honour in all things and keep a close watch on his life.16 The portrait of the good counsellor is traced in various works. For the author of the courtesy poem called Urbain, the counsellor ought to give advice to the prince according to the law, not flatter him, and always tell him the truth.17 In the Secretum Secretorum, we see that, next to his five ‘ministers’ or ‘baiuli’, the king ought to retain five counsellors, who need to be eloquent, pleasant and courtly, and to display a good knowledge of past history. They should love truth, be constant in their heart, faithful to the prince, and good towards the subjects. While the ‘baiuli’ must possess the requisite physical qualities, this is not the case with counsellors: the king must not despise these men for their small bodily size, but he should retain them with

15 Secretum Secretorum, 67, ‘De consiliariis’, in R. Möller, ed., Hiltgart von Hürnheim. Mittelhochdeutsche Prosaübersetzung des Secretum Secretorum, Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters VI (Berlin, 1963), 136–8 (this is the edition of the Latin version by Philip of Tripoli). The Secretum Secretorum was translated into Anglo-Norman after 1267 by Peter d’Abernun of Fetcham and again towards the end of the thirteenth century. The version of Peter d’Abernun, which translates only part of the long Latin version of Philip of Tripoli, was edited by O.A. Beckerlegge, Le Secré de Secrez, by Pierre d’Abernun of Fetcham, Anglo-Norman Text Society V (Oxford, 1944). 16 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, VII, 1, ‘De ambitione cavenda’, fol. 52r. 17 H. Rosamond Parsons, ed., ‘Anglo-Norman Books of Courtesy and Nurture’, Publications of the Modern Language Association of America xliv (1929), 383–455, lines 181–90, at 405–6.

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regard to their wisdom and good morality, a prescription which seems to echo one of the distichs of the Pseudo-Cato: ‘Strength housed in little frame do no disdain:/ In counsel men of slight physique may reign’.18 Other offices close to the king receive specific attention. This is for instance the case with the ‘secretarii’, entrusted with the secret writings of the prince, whom the Secretum Secretorum paints as prudent and wanting what is good for the king. Their technical ability lies in the field of eloquence, because the meaning or interpretation of speech is its spirit, words are its body, writings its clothing.19 In the late thirteenth-century legal treatise known as Fleta, the chancellor is required to be ‘a wise and discreet man’, and is assisted by ‘trustworthy and prudent clerks’, who have sworn an oath to the king and ‘have a wide experience in the laws and customs of England’.20 Treasurers also receive separate instructions. Carrying on with the metaphor of the political body, borrowed from the Policraticus, John of Wales explains that treasurers hold the place of the stomach, which receives the food that the body needs, and gives it back ‘virtualiter’ and ‘effectualiter’ to the members. Likewise, the subsidies are stored in the treasury and spent for the use of government. If there is no redistribution of the treasure, the body becomes sick (Jerome 4 and Isaiah 48). As for the Secretum Secretorum, it simply recommends to limit the number of officers in charge of expenditure, since each tries to outdo his colleagues in the corruption of his work and in the oppression of the people. The Secretum Secretorum has additional sections on the king’s almoner, who has to understand the language of the poor, and on messengers, who must be wise, honourable and loyal, and refuse any shameful offer. Following Vegetius, it also recommends the division of the kingdom into four or ten parts, each provided with a military governor, who has to be literate, wise, faithful, observant, and well liked by his men. Nor must he be easily corrupted by gifts or money.21 Local and manorial officers In the political body, local officers, whether provincial governors – in the English context, an allusion to sheriffs? – heads of cities, provosts or bailiffs (‘presides provinciarum, sive potestates civitatum, sive prepositi populorum, sive ballivi villarum’), hold the place of the ears: this is because they receive the orders of the prince. However, in this section of his work, John of Wales is content with handing out general advice. Officers have to show firmness in their practice of justice and other virtues, they have to fear God and to respect the divine cult. They are also meant to be true in their life and upright in their judgement, to hate avarice and to refuse bribes. Finally, they should not rob the poor.22 Legal treatises are probably a better source of information for the ethical standards set to persons holding local office. For instance, according to Britton, once

18

Secretum Secretorum, 67, 130 and 134. The distich of the Pseudo-Cato runs thus: ‘Corporis exigui vires contemnere noli:/ consilio pollet cui vim natura negavit’ (Pseudo-Cato, Disticha, II. 9, in Minor Latin Poets, vol. II, 606). 19 Secretum Secretorum, 70, ‘De viris eligendis ad scribendum secreta regis’, 144. 20 Fleta, II, xiii, ed. H.G. Richardson and G.O. Sayles, vol. II, Selden Society LXXII (London, 1955), 123. 21 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, VII, 2, fol. 52; Secretum Secretorum, 72, 146 (for the treasurers), 19, 44 (for the almoner), 71, 144 (for the messengers) and 73, 148–50 (for the military commanders). On the diffusion of Vegetius in the Middle Ages, see Philippe Richardot, Végèce et la culture militaire au Moyen Age (Ve–XVe siècle) (Paris, 1998), 71–99. 22 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, fol. 39r and I, IV, 1, fol. 40r. After Policraticus, V, 11

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elected, the coroners must swear, in front of the whole county, that they shall take care to do well in everything that pertains to their office. More precisely, they have to hold their inquests and do their enrolments loyally and without asking for money. Britton gives the contents of the oaths of the sheriffs during the eyres too: the sheriff shall swear to obey the orders of the justices in eyre, and not to reveal their secret business. His officers have to swear a similar oath. Oaths sworn by persons who claim the right to the return of writs, or their bailiffs, are also mentioned.23 Manorial officers see their function defined in treatises on administration. In Seneschaucy, the steward is described as ‘wise’, loyal, and possessing a good knowledge of the laws, as well as being an able administrator. Loyalty is the principal virtue required from the bailiff, apart from a technical knowledge of his office. As for the reeve, the treatise simply recommends that he looks after the interests of his lord. In Husbandry and in Seneschaucy, the tasks and moral duties of the clerk accountant are set in some detail: he has to master all the techniques of accounting, and to be loyal, honest and prudent. Even very modest functions receive attention: Seneschaucy, for instance, has separate sections for the ‘hayward’, the ‘charetter’ and the ‘bovers’, the ‘tenurs dez charues’, the ‘vacher’, the ‘porcher’, the ‘bercher’, and ‘la daye’: they all have to master their task and be loyal to their lord. The recommendations concerning the ‘hayward’ are slightly more detailed: he has to be full of vigour, and sharp, two qualities that are required by his work, which consists in keeping a close watch on the lands of his lord.24 A complex case: the administration of justice The administration of justice is the subject treated in greatest detail in all the texts examined. The common good relies on a good dispensation of justice: this is the responsibility of the king, who is the final judge on earth, and who represents God and divine justice.25 However, taking model on Moses, the king has to delegate his powers to judges and, since he himself represents God, his judges incarnate God’s justice on earth. Bracton for instance recalls that judges sit ‘in the royal chamber, on the very seat of the king, on the throne of God, so to speak, judging tribes and nations, plaintiffs and defendants, in lordly order, in the place of the king, as though in the place of Jesus Christ, since the king is God’s vicar. For judgements are not made by man, but by God . . .’26 We find a similar statement in a Latin Facetus in distichs, probably dating from the thirteenth century, where the judge is said to be similar to God: he must condemn the unjust man and absolve the just man, and is feared by all.27 For John of Wales, judges must imitate God, whose judgement they exercise on earth, and their judgements should be similar to God’s. Furthermore, if the pagans, who ignored the existence of God, were diligent in their judgements, how much more should be the faithful, not only in their judgements, but also in the

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Britton, I, ii and iii, vol. I, 8 and 21–2. Seneschaucy, 1, 17 and 35, Oschinsky, ed., Walter of Henley, 264, 268 and 274–6 (for the steward and for the reeve); Husbandry, 1–4 and Seneschaucy, 47–76 in Oschinsky, ed., Walter of Henley, 280–90, 420–1 (for the other offices). 25 Secretum Secretorum, 61, 120. The Lumere as Lais gives a compendium of the various definitions of justice, after Augustine, Cicero, Isidore of Seville, Macrobe, Seneca and Saint Clement (IV, 29, vol. 1, 172–3). 26 Bracton, vol. II, 20, for the translation. Also Britton, I, i, vol. I, 2. 27 There is no surviving English manuscript of this text, but this kind of work was usually well diffused and may have been known in England: Alfred Morel-Fatio, ‘Mélanges de littérature catalane. III. Le livre de courtoisie’, Romania xv (1886), 192–235, at 234, lines 439–49.

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judgement that belongs to God?28 And the Mireur a Justices has a long passage referring to judges delegate whom, according to the author, Kind Alfred severely punished for their wrong and evil judgements: they were despising God, whose vicars they were, as well as the king, who had given them the high dignity of representing the person of God, and his own, in order to judge the sinners.29 John of Wales gives some general advice about the judge’s office: the judge, who takes the place of the eyes in the political body, shall be just and diligent, ordered, upright, prudent and just, he shall show constancy and fortitude, be of good repute and have respectable friends. Similar prescriptions appear in the Urbanus Magnus, where it is declared that the judge ought to be just, pious, faithful, and not distort the rights of the parties because of gifts.30 A good knowledge of the laws is indispensable to the judge, a requirement that is technical but also moral. Bracton strongly condemns judges who ‘decide cases according to their own will rather by the authority of the laws’. In the Communiloquium of John of Wales, the judge tells what the law is and pronounces judgements accordingly. Therefore he ought to possess the general principles of the law (‘ius’), as well as a knowledge of the laws (‘leges’). This kind of consideration appears in courtesy books as well: in one of the thirteenth-century Facetus, we see that judges must know all the laws, and often reflect upon them. And the ignorance of the laws may be a crime: according to the Mireur a Justices, the judge who condemns rightly to death is not a criminal. But some judges condemn men to death sometimes falsely or knowingly, sometimes out of ignorance: in itself, ignorance is not a sin, but the neglect of knowledge is.31 The care that judges ought to take of the technicalities of court cases also comes in for some directives. For Daniel of Beccles, the judge must look into the places and times of actions. Judgement should not be hasty, and the sentence is to be delivered only after due reflection. The judge shall be careful in his speech, and show respect to knights and clerks. He shall speak clearly, without circumlocutions.32 For John of Wales, if judgements should not be postponed indefinitely, haste in delivering a sentence is wrong. And the judge shall give due attention to the examination of proofs, he shall discuss cases with care, and will not be easily deceived. As for the judge who does not weigh testimonies with circumspection, and who gives a wrong judgement, says Britton, he is fully responsible for his actions. In fact, if the matter is difficult, the judge should ask for counsel.33 And if in doubt, indulgence is to be 28

John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 3, fol. 41v (with a reference to Isaiah 11) and 4, fols 43r and 43v. 29 The Mirror of Justices, IV, xviii, 143. 30 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 3, fol. 41r: the eyes can distinguish what is useful to the body from what is bad for it. Placed high, the eyes see the dangers ahead, says John of Wales; the judges are also placed high, so that they can distinguish what is right from what is wrong, what is good from what is harmful (after Proverbs 4.20–27). Urbanus Magnus, lines 1484–6, 51. 31 Bracton, vol. II, 19; John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 3, fol. 41r; Facetus in distichs, line 450: ‘Omnia jura sciat, mente frequentet ea’, Morel-Fatio, ed., ‘Mélanges de littérature catalane’, 234; The Mirror of Justices, IV, xvi, ‘De jugement domicide’, 135–8. The whole argumentation is picked up in Giles of Rome’s De Regimine Principum: the judge has to determine cases as much as possible according to the laws, as little as possible according to his own judgement. It is the task of the law-makers to think in depth about legal issues, and to give laws for eternity, because judges cannot afford to spend too much time on individual cases. And if the judge judges according to the laws, he does not have to fear the hostility of the parties (De Regimine Principum, III, II, 20, ed. Hieronymus Samaritanis, De Regimine Principum Libri III (Rome, 1607), fols 506–9). 32 Urbanus Magnus, 51–2, lines 1487–502. 33 Britton, IV, 9, 4, vol. I, 228.

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preferred to severity and anger, as well as to cruelty, according to the Mireur a Justices.34 However, judges should not be too indulgent, a statement that is found in most sources.35 In any case, wrongful judgement, whether out of partiality or incompetence, deserves punishment. The author of the Mireur a Justices illustrates this point with the fictitious story of judges whom King Alfred had put to death or punished by the confiscation of their goods for wrongful judgement. The forty-four cases he puts forward are so many aspects of the procedure of contemporary courts that he finds objectionable: the adoption of the wrong procedure, criminals saved instead or being condemned, the innocent condemned instead of being saved are the main points underlined in his treatise.36 Impartiality is naturally an essential requirement for judges. For John of Wales, judges should not to take into account the social rank of parties and, when they step into their role, they should put their friendships aside: indeed such a relationship as the one that puts demands on the person of the judge is not friendship, but collusion (Cicero, De Officiis, III, x). Following Isidore of Seville and Bernard of Clairvaux, John of Wales states that there are four types of judgement: the judgement of truth, the judgement of hate, the judgement of fear and the judgement of love, the latter by reference to David and his son Absalon. The judgement of truth is the only legal one. All the others are wrong.37 Other officers of justice receive advice, such as the pleaders, ‘oratores’, ‘advocati’, ‘contours’.38 The Mireur a Justices defines the role of pleaders: they are sergeants who know the law of the kingdom, and who serve the common people, for money, in order to defend their cases in court. They must swear, nonetheless, not to defend causes they know to be unjust; nor should they seek to introduce false delays or false witnesses in court. They should not lie, but they must defend the cause of their client loyally and without negligence. The pleader will receive a salary according to the importance of the cause, the work he has put into it as well as his skills and the custom of the court. John of Wales dedicates a section of his Communiloquium to this question. For him, pleaders (‘advocati’) are similar to the tongue of the natural body, which enunciates what is useful and necessary to the body. But they may only use their science and their eloquence for the good of the ‘res publica’ (after Cicero, De Officiis, III, 17, and Proverbs 17). Equally, they ought to avoid ornament in their clothes and pomp in their gestures. In Urbain, the pleader is told to answer questions according to the law, without uttering threats or oaths. He may receive gifts from the rich, but he has to help the poor for the love of God.39 34 35

The Mirror of Justices, I, 1, 167; John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 4, fols 43v and 44r. John of Wales, for instance, makes this point clear with several anecdotes borrowed from Valerius Maximus: ibid., I, IV, 4, fol. 43r. 36 The Mirror of Justices, IV, 18, 143–4 and V, 1, 166 and 169–71. 37 Communiloquium, I, IV, 4, fol. 44v; ibid., I, IV, 3, fol. 41v, after Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, III, lix, 54, 7, and Bernard, De gradibus humilitatis, I, iv. 14. 38 In the section ‘De advocatis’ of his Liber de consideratione, Bernard strongly condemns the pleaders and procurators who use their art for wrongful purposes, and advises the pope to reduce the length of pleading in his court (Saint Bernard, Liber de consideratione, I, X, 13 and XI, 14, in S. Bernardi Opera, vol. III, 408–10). This seems to have been the main source of inspiration for many developments on pleaders, as well as the section of Isidore’s Sententiae on ‘De causidicis’ (III, lx, 56, 1–2, 312). See also the passage from Alain de Lille’s Summa de arte praedicatoria, xli, which recommends a series of virtues to ‘oratores’ and ‘advocati’ (MPL 210, col. 187–8). 39 The Mirror of Justices, II, v, 47–8; John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, V, 1, fols 38r–40v; Urbain, Parsons, ed., ‘Anglo-Norman Books of Courtesy and Nurture’, 406, lines 191–202. The shortening and simplification of procedure was a frequent demand of reformers, in England as well as in France: see for instance a section of the tract of Pierre Dubois on the recovery of the Holy Land, which advocates the

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The responsibility of the judge extends to the officials of his court, who tend to follow his example and imitate his behaviour. Inversely in the Mireur a Justices, subalterns are held to account for the actions of the judge whom they serve. After the fictitious story of the judges hanged by King Alfred, the fate of the other officials involved in the execution of wrongful judgements is mentioned: they were also put to death.40 The prince or lord and his officials The portrayal of the ideal official helps to reinforce these general statements and exhortations. Joseph in Egypt (Genesis 39 and 41) or the ministers of Solomon (I Kings 4) are the biblical figures most often mentioned in order to impress an ethical conduct upon officers or upon those who aspire to office, while the figure of Job (Job 29), protector of the poor and scourge of the unjust, is often invoked when dealing with the moral duties of judges. Occasionally, it is the prince who is given as a model. John of Wales declares that the officer ought to take example on the good prince, that he should be his ‘imitator’, and govern himself in his office in the way that the prince governs himself in his. And the role of the prince as exemplar accounts for the fact that the bad prince or lord is served by bad officers and servants. For Peter d’Abernun of Fetcham, for instance, it is possible to tell the master by his servants: as for the prince who listens to bad advice, he is unable to distinguish, within himself, the wrong from the good: therefore he deserves the name of tyrant. In any case, one should not serve a bad master, the latter often symbolised by the figure of Eutrapelus (Horace, Epistulae, II, 18). And if what the master orders is against God, there is no obligation to obey him: this prescription is found in the Liber Sententiarum of Peter Lombard in his discussion of the duty of resistance to the tyrant and often repeated in later works.41 It is only through the corrective action of the prince, however, that the resemblance between the prince and his ministers may truly be achieved. Firstly, it is the retaining of good and capable officials that enables the prince to govern his kingdom, and he ought to choose his ministers with caution. The Secretum Secretorum compares the subjects of the prince to a garden. This has to be well tended, and, in particular, the prince has to know the condition of his subjects and to ensure their well-being. He must be represented by a single minister, who will take care of the subjects, or ‘trees’, and who will be of a good disposition, pleasing, patient and wise. If he chooses a bad minister, the prince may see his subjects rebel against his government.42 The figure of Moses is set as an example to the prince or lord (Exodus 18), for simplification of court cases in order to prepare Christendom for the Crusade: Charles Victor Langlois, ed., De recuperatione terre sancte. Traité de politique générale (Paris, 1891), 7. 40 Facetus in distichs, Morel-Fatio, ed., ‘Mélanges de littérature catalane’, 234, lines 451–4; The Mirror of Justices, I, 1, 169 (‘E estre ceo furent penduz corouners, ministres, accessours, ceux qi penerent la gent e tuz ceux qi poient le faus jugement aver destorbe e ne les destorberent, en touz poinz ou les justices furent penduz.’) and IV, xvi, 137. 41 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 2, fol. 40r; Urbanus Magnus, 43, lines 1221–9; La Lumere as Lais, III, xxvii, vol. I, 130–1, lines 4239–50; Peter Lombard, Sententiae, II, xliv (PL, vol. CXCII, col. 757). A long section of the Urbanus Magnus, 43ff, line 1221ff is dedicated to the service of a bad master. 42 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 2, fol. 40r; Secretum Secretorum, 72, ‘De hiis qui semper intendunt et habent curam subditorum’, 146. The comparison between the kingdom and a garden was commonplace. However, in the French doctrinal of Robert de Blois, L’Enseignement des Princes, it is the domestic entourage of the prince that is compared to a garden, where weeds have to be destroyed (John Howard Fox, ed., Robert de Blois. Son œuvre didactique et narrative (Paris, 1950), 117–18, lines 861–904).

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instance in John of Wales’s work: Jethro, Moses’s father-in-law, advises him to recruit powerful and capable men, and to set them above the others in order that they help him in the government of the people. These men have to be wise, fear God, be truthful, and hate avarice. They must show firmness in the administration of justice, and they have to cultivate all virtues equally. They also have to refuse gifts and they must not impoverish the people. We have another echo of Exodus 18 in the section of Bracton on ‘delegated jurisdiction’: the king ‘must select from his realm wise and God-fearing men in whom there is the truth of eloquence, who shun avarice which heeds covetousness, and make them justices, sheriffs, and other ministers and officials to whom there may be referred doubtful questions and complaints of wrongdoing . . .’43 The prince or lord also ought to pay attention to the motivations of those who seek high office, a point that John of Wales illustrates with a passage from the De Officiis of Cicero (III, xxi): the man who takes up high office starts a life of fear and worry, he will encounter danger and deception. And he must be instructed not to seek such a charge for the wrong reasons, such as ambition, earthly profit or transitory honour; instead, he must do it out of obedience to his lord, out of love for the good of the ‘res publica’, as well as because he wishes to come to the help of the poor. Neither does he want to become a judge if he is not ready to fight iniquity through the exercise of virtue. And poor men, adds John of Wales, should not be promoted to the highest office, because they may be tempted to get rich at the expense of the people, a point illustrated with an anecdote taken from Valerius Maximus about the choice of a consul for Spain: it is just as unwise to appoint a poor and needy man to high office as it is to appoint a greedy man.44 Second, the prince ought to exercise some control over his officers. As head of the body politic, this is clearly his duty. For Peter d’Abernun of Fetcham, officials who behave to the detriment of the people should not be sustained by their lord, who is the warrant for their bad actions and then deserves the name of tyrant. Detailed instruction on the way the prince may control his close ministers is given in the Secretum Secretorum: the prince has to make sure that his ministers are not greedy, since this is the source of corruption for the kingdom. He should also keep them close to him, and prevent them from having contacts with other kings. And he should regularly enquire into the behaviour of his officers and agree to hear complaints against them, a rule which is equally valid for the lord of the manor, according to the treatise Seneschaucy. More original perhaps is the technique recommended by Robert Grosseteste to the countess of Lincoln in order to instil some sense of their moral duties into the minds of her officers and servants. Once the enquiry into her rights and properties has been completed, the countess must summon her steward in front of her ‘good friends’ and tell him to preserve these rights and property loyally and honestly, without any diminution of her income (Grosseteste actually gives the countess a kind of model speech). She may also warn

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John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 1, fol. 40r; Bracton, vol. II, 306. John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 1, fol. 39v. For the sake of comparison, we may quote here the French courtesy book, the Enseignement des princes of Robert de Blois which has a section on the choice of advisers, entitled ‘To preserve oneself from treason’ (112–15). Men of base origin are not to be trusted (lines 673–732), a statement that Robert de Blois illustrates with the example of Darius, who was betrayed by men of servile birth whom he had promoted to the highest rank (lines 733–66), and of Alexander, poisoned by his slaves (lines 767–85). This does not prevent the author from praising the honest man, whatever his rank: the honest and virtuous son of a serf is worth fifteen bad sons of kings (lines 786–802).

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him against oppressing her people. The same device is to be used with the domestic household: as frequently as possible, the countess should admonish her servants about their duties, telling them that to serve her well, loyally and with application, is to please God. The officers of the domestic household will be instructed in front of all the servants: their task will be to ensure that the whole household, whether the inner or the outer household, is loyal, works hard, is chaste, pure, honest, and seeks the profit of the countess. The morality of newly recruited servants will be carefully assessed, and regular checks will be made on their behaviour. Servants also have to be obedient, and should not encourage division and strife within the household.45 The recruitment and control of officials are questions linked to the method used for their remuneration. When it comes to the material rewards of office, most authors look to a more or less distant past for examples of virtuous behaviour. In ancient Rome, says John of Wales, persons who took up office did not ask for a reward. The Mireur a Justices states that in Alfred’s time, judges only had moderate demands. This is in stark contrast with the behaviour of contemporary officials, who seem to be in need of advice about the legitimacy of the rewards they can hope for. Some are directly remunerated by the prince, who should pay attention to the dangers of over-promoting some of his officers. According to the Secretum Secretorum, the prince must not elevate some of his ministers above the others, but he must distribute gifts and promotions equally among them. Seneschaucy provides the lord with hints on how to reward and punish his officials. The lord has to enquire about who has done well and loyally; good officers will be retained, the others will have to answer for their bad administration on their own property and income. And the Rules of Robert Grosseteste instruct the countess of Lincoln to use wards and escheats to reward officials who have served her a long time and who have exerted themselves in her service.46 Fleta advises against the remuneration of ministers by the subjects of the king; instead, they should be content with their fee. Not all officers, however, were directly rewarded by the prince, and most authors are well aware of the difficulty of defining a line of behaviour for office-holders who have somehow to make a living without receiving wages or fees. The Mireur a Justices, for instance, deals in some detail with the various types of remuneration for judges in eyre. Free men do not have to serve against their will, unless it is part of the obligation of their fief; this is why some get a fixed annual sum of money from the king. These are not allowed to ask for any money or anything else from the people. But the judges who serve the king with the hope of some reward only may take 12 pence a day from the plaintiff, 6 pence from the pleader, 6 pence from the knight sworn as witness, 4 pence from any other sworn person, and 2 pence from the summoners. And the Mireur considers as inequitable article 26 of Westminster I, 1275, which states that ‘no sheriff or other royal official is to accept a consideration for discharging his office, but is to be paid by what he receives from the king, and he who does shall give back twice as much and be punished at the king’s pleasure’. In fact, sheriffs should be able to accept

45

Communiloquium, I, IV, 2, fol. 40v (with a reference to Matthew 24); La Lumere as Lais, III, xxvii, 131, lines 4267–84; Secretum Secretorum, 67, 136; Seneschaucy, 83, Oschinky ed., Walter of Henley, 294; Rules, iii, xiii, xv–xviii, ibid., 390, 398–400. 46 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 4, fol. 44r; The Mirror of Justices, I, i, 171; Secretum Secretorum, 67, 132; also ibid., 70, 144 for the remuneration of ‘secretarii’; Seneschaucy, 82, Oschinsky, ed., Walter of Henley, 292; Rules, v, ibid., 394.

Ethics and Office

29

rewards, since they do not get anything from the king, while he takes money from them.47 The danger was for officials to accept corrupting gifts: malpractice is described at great length in many works, and the corrupt officer is a frequent theme of satire. But models of good behaviour are also given in the literature, such as in the Communiloquium of John of Wales, who borrows from the work of Valerius Maximus numerous examples of virtuous officers, figures such as Publicola, who at his death did even not leave enough money for his funeral.48 Conclusion Moral precepts – however simple – may not have had much bearing on the actual conduct of officials, but they were still part of the mental imagery of a section of society, they contributed to what we may term a ‘professional conscience’, which had a technical dimension as well as an ethical one.49 This was not a new development: the Sententiae of Isidore of Seville contain a long section on judges and pleaders, which later writers drew on, and Carolingian mirrors offer recommendations on office. In the Institutione Regia of Jonas of Orléans, for instance, an entire section is dedicated to ministers in general – dukes and counts for instance ought to be well chosen – and to judges in particular.50 Nevertheless, the widespread diffusion of precepts on the ethics of office-holding through the multiplication of didactic works destined for schoolchildren but also for an older literate audience reflects the specialisation and the growth of the professional character of office, and this is a development that clearly belongs to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. For the historian, the drawback of this literature may be its general lack of reference to contemporary events, its timeless character. However, the marked similarities that exist between the language of didactic sources and the language of reform in the thirteenth century suggest an interaction between ethical teaching and the demands for reform. This may be due to the repetitive nature of the abuses linked to office-holding, but the recurrent formulation of the virtues of office in the didactic literature may have helped to formulate the political agenda. The Articles of the Barons and Magna Carta, with their strong injunctions against the postponement or delay of justice, or their recommendations concerning the choice of ministers with a good knowledge of the law, are reminiscent of the instructions of didactic texts. The language of the oaths sworn by the counsellors and officers of the king in 1257 is also very close to the prescriptions of literary sources: counsellors have to advice the king faithfully, and must not reveal the business of the king to anybody; they must make sure that justice is administered in an equitable way, to the rich as well as to

47

Fleta, II, xlvi, vol. II, 152; The Mirror of Justices, II, iv, ‘Des loiers’, 46–7 and V, iv, 186. For the text of the statute, see Statutes of the Realm, Rec. Comm. vol. I (London, 1810), 26. 48 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, IV, 2, fol. 40v. The Liber de consideratione of Saint Bernard (IV, v) is also the source of various anecdotes concerning virtuous – and poor – papal legates, such as Martin, papal legate in Dacia (1132), or Geoffroy of Chartres, papal legate in Aquitaine (S. Bernardi Opera, vol. III, 459–60). On this point, see Frédérique Lachaud, ‘Liberality, Prodigality and Reward in Courts, c. 1150–1300’, in Luxury and Integration, ed. Karsten Plöger, German Historical Institute in London (forthcoming). 49 J.-M. Carbasse, ‘Le juge entre la loi et la justice: approches médiévales’, in La conscience du juge dans la tradition juridique européenne, ed. J.-M. Carbasse and L. Depambour-Tarride (Paris, 1999), 67–94, at 68. 50 A. Dubreucq, ed., Jonas d’Orléans, Le Métier de Roi (De Institutione Regia) (Paris, 1995), ch. v, 204–10.

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the poor, the great and the small, according to the right customs and laws of the kingdom. They have to allow justice to be delivered against them, their friends or their parents. And they must ensure that justice is not administered for money or prayer, favour or hate, but that the rich as well as the poor are judged with equity. Finally, they shall refuse gifts or services from persons who have business in the king’s court. If they hear that a member of the king’s council has received a gift, apart from drink and food, that person must be examined by the whole council and excluded if necessary, and he will loose one year of his own income. This oath had to be sworn by the barons of the exchequer, the justiciars, and all the king’s bailiffs, except the sheriffs, whose behaviour was regulated by the counsellors. And bad officers or useless bailiffs were not to be nominated to offices; if such persons were in place, they were to be relieved of their functions.51 Lastly, the moral precepts given in didactic works indicate the existence of an articulation between individual morality and society as a whole. Society was sometimes depicted as being built of contrasting groups held together in a balance akin to musical harmony52 or to the natural harmony of the body. This is usually expressed with a reference to the De Officiis of Cicero, a work that played a major role in shaping social ethics in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, whether directly or through adaptations. In De Officiis, I, xxv. 85, Cicero states that the persons who are destined for the ‘res publica’ must observe two precepts of Plato: the first is that they have to protect what is useful for the citizens, and in whatever they do, they must refer to this, and forget their own profit. The other precept is that they ought to protect the whole body of the ‘res publica’, and not neglect one part while they deal with another. The ‘tutela’ or ‘procuratio’ of the ‘res publica’ is to be handled to the profit of the persons who are thus committed to the care of the government, and not to the profit of the men in charge of government. Another passage from the De Officiis, I, xxxiv, reproduced in the Communiloquium, for instance, states that the magistrates ought to understand that they represent the city, and that they ought to preserve its dignity and honour, serve its laws, define the rights within the city and always remember that all of this has been committed to their good faith.53 In the absence of a system of political representation, holding an office, whether in the administration delegated by the king or within the county community, was a vehicle for participation in public life. The sense of responsibility forged by ethical prescriptions may have fuelled the demands for reform precisely in the category of population that was at the heart of the reforming agenda.

51

Articles of the Barons 30 and 42, Magna Carta 40 and 45: J.C. Holt, Magna Carta, 2nd edn (Cambridge, 1992), 436, 438, 460 and 462. ‘Annales de Burton’, in H.R. Luard, ed., Annales monastici, Rolls Series vol. I, (London, 1864), 395–7, for the oaths of 1257. 52 John of Wales, Communiloquium, I, I, 2, fol. 5r. 53 Ibid., I, I, 2, fol. 4v.

Some Aspects of the Royal Itinerary in the Twelfth Century1

S.D. Church Any interpretation of the royal itinerary in the twelfth century has to begin with J.E.A. Jolliffe’s chapter on the ‘King’s Eyre’ in his Angevin Kingship.2 In that chapter, Jolliffe expressed his view of Angevin kingship in its daily acts of government as being characterised by ‘over-mastering strength . . . used equably with selfconfidence’. It was ‘strength we take for granted’, he stated, as the Angevin kings ‘bludgeoned’ their financial servants – the sheriffs – into ‘honesty and solvency’. And this strength was in part made real by a ‘laborious co-ordination of court and country’ achieved through the process of the king and the court itinerating around the countryside. In Jolliffe’s construct, the royal itinerary was a rational business entered into by a king determined to maintain ‘familiarity’ with those whom he had placed in administrative posts around his realm and to maintain relationships with the county communities of the land. ‘Never’ in the stirring words of Jolliffe, ‘was the Crown more constantly present to the nation, more acutely alive to every wind of politics, than in the sixty years between the accession of Henry II and the death of John.’3 The royal itinerary of the Angevin kings was, moreover, a ‘steady’ progress – Some Aspects of the Royal Itinerary

1

William I’s itinerary from 1066 to 1087 is now in Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum: The Acta of William I (1066–1087) (Oxford, 1998), 75–84; William II’s itinerary is in Frank Barlow’s William Rufus (London, 1983), 449–52; Henry I’s itinerary is in Stephanie Mooers Christlelow, ‘A Moveable Feast? Itineration and the Centralization of Government under Henry I’, Albion 28 (1996), 187–228, which supplements W. Farrer, ‘An Outline Itinerary of King Henry the First’, EHR 34 (1919), 303–82 and 505–79; Stephen’s itinerary is in Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum, vol. 3, ed. H.A. Cronne and R.H.C. Davis (Oxford, 1968), supplemented by R. Helmrichs, ‘King Stephen’s Norman Itinerary, 1137’, Haskins Society Journal 5 (1995), 89–97; Henry II’s itinerary has recently been recreated by Judith Everard; this itinerary will appear as an appendix to the Acta of Henry II, ed. N. Vincent (Oxford, forthcoming); Richard’s itinerary is still most easily followed in The Itinerary of King Richard I, ed. L. Landon (Pipe Roll Society, London, 1935); John’s itinerary was established by Thomas Duffus Hardy, Archaeologia 22 (1829), 124–60 and in his Rotuli Litterarum Patentium in Turri Londinensi Asservati (London, Rec. Comm., 1835). Both itineraries are incomplete and can be supplemented by Patricia M. Barnes, The Great Roll of the Pipe for the Fourteenth Year of King John (Pipe Roll Society, London, 1954), xi–xiii. The itineraries of Richard I and John will be much improved by the completion of Nicholas Vincent’s acta project. Mooers Christlelow, ‘A Moveable Feast?’, 193, makes the point that the places named as places of issue for royal acta did not always coincide with the exact location of the king. She cites thirty examples of so-called notification writs of Henry I which have a clause suggesting that the order to compose the actum was transmitted to those who wrote the charter from the king, who was some distance away. She concludes, therefore, that the given place in the actum shows the focus of the ‘machinery of government’ rather than the exact location of the king. The question of whether royal acta show exactly where the king was at any given moment is one which has dogged historians for many years. J.C. Russell, for example, in his ‘Attestation of Charters in the Reign of King John’, Speculum 15 (1940), 480–98, came to the conclusion that one could rely on charters to locate John’s itinerary, but it was not a conclusion he reached lightly. R. Bartlett, England under the Norman and Angevin Kings, 1075–1225 (Oxford, 2000), 133–43 has a short discussion of royal itineration. 2 (London, 2nd edn, 1963), 139–65. 3 Angevin Kingship, 140.

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at twenty miles a day – as the king and his court travelled ‘by planned stages’ along the ‘administrative arteries’ of the realm. Yes, courtiers with their households, ‘the swarm of armed guards’, the hawkers of wares and assorted hangers-on ‘were a burden . . . and seemed like an army passing across the countryside to those who suffered under the marshal’s requisitions; but the actual hospicium Regis was compact and economical, very little more than a wealthy earl of prelate would carry’. And the royal itinerary had benefits for those in the provinces, too, because it allowed them to have contact with the king and to have an input into decisions that had local implications. In Jolliffe’s construct, then, the court seems almost benign in its itinerary – a good thing for both the governors and the governed; it was neither extravagantly decked out nor was it excessively oppressive. It was an ordered community moving sedately around the land attempting, wherever possible, to bridge the gap between court and county community and attracting to itself during its itinerations local royal officials as well as the greater nobles as it passed by. Obviously Jolliffe recognised the capricious nature of Angevin rule – it is one of the hallmarks of his work – but he did so within a construct of kingship which was bureaucratic, organised and efficient and which was devoid of any chaotic elements, except, perhaps, those that existed outside the direct control of the king’s court.4 John Le Patourel’s characterisation of the royal itinerary in the government of the Norman Empire is similarly dominated by the rational interpretation of Norman rule.5 He saw the royal itinerary as being bound up in tradition, necessity and policy. He, like Jolliffe, and citing Walter Map, of whom more later, took seriously the idea that Henry I’s itinerary was an orderly affair, planned long in advance, so that the king’s subjects might find him wherever he was in order to transact the necessary business of the realm. It was a court in which supplies of foodstuffs and other goods were always plentiful. Le Patourel did acknowledge the need for the Norman kings to respond to unforeseen events, such as rebellion and the threat of foreign invasion, but he thought that, in England at least, these forced changes to the royal progress were minimal. Overwhelmingly, the Norman kings travelled about their lands because it was a successful ‘mode of governing’ with little relationship to an earlier need – on which the royal itinerary was initially founded – to consume the produce of royal estates and to keep the bellies of the household and the court full.6 But could the royal itinerary have been as ordered as Jolliffe and Le Patourel thought it was? Our view of the royal itinerary is, out of necessity no doubt, almost wholly reliant on the products of the royal administration, and in particular on the documents produced which allow us to track the royal itinerary and to say something about the constituent members of the court at any given moment. These, then, are the rational products of a rational government which in turn lead us to see rational actions in the activities of the royal court. But there is a chaotic element to the court as well which has somehow been missed out of the general analyses of the royal itinerary given to us by our authorities on twelfth-century English kingship. This article seeks to examine that disorderly element in the royal itinerary. 4

See also R. Mortimer, Angevin England 1154–1258 (Oxford, 1994), 17–21; W.L. Warren, Henry II (London, 1973), 255 saw the royal itinerary as ‘a habit’ which harked back to ‘simpler’ days when kings consumed the produce of their estates on their estates. Although the activity of moving around the land had administrative and political benefits, this method of rule was ‘too haphazard, too irregular’ to be of any real use in the government of the land. 5 D. Bates, ‘Normandy and England after 1066’, EHR 104 (1989), 851–80 comprehensively demolished many of Le Patourel’s assumptions, but Le Patourel’s work is still a valuable contribution to the subject. 6 J. Le Patourel, The Norman Empire (Oxford, 1976), chapter 5, esp. 124–32.

Some Aspects of the Royal Itinerary

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*

In his work on Courtiers’ Trifles, Walter Map recalls the legend of a certain Herla, king of the Britons, who lived in Britain before the arrival of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes.7 This King Herla, as Walter recalls the legend, met a pygmy mounted on a large goat who claimed to be a king over many kings. The pygmy king told Herla that he was to marry a daughter of the king of the Franks, and that this had already been arranged and the embassy bearing the news was on its way. The pygmy king invited himself to Herla’s wedding feast and in return requested Herla’s presence at his own wedding a year hence. With that, the pygmy king sped away, returning, as he had promised, on the appointed wedding day, ‘before the first course’, with ‘a vast crowd of similar beings’ who numbered so many that they had to be accommodated in pavilions which the pygmy king had provided for the purpose. The pygmy king also provided lavishly for his followers and for Herla and his guests alike, serving up the food and drink in jewelled and golden vessels. The pygmies themselves, according to Walter, were splendidly decked out in jewels and fine clothes ‘shining like burning lights among the company’. Walter was at pains to emphasise how the pygmy and his followers took nothing from their host and how they ‘vexed no one by act or word’, and how they left the wedding feast at the appropriate moment, choosing not to out-stay their welcome.8 The following year, the pygmy king appeared before Herla and reminded the king of his contract. Herla duly collected together his followers with enough provisions to repay the pygmy for his hospitality, and followed him into the underworld. There the wedding was celebrated and Herla and his followers, having been given gifts by the pygmy king, gifts that included horses, dogs, hawks and everything needed for hunting and fowling, were allowed to depart. Before he left, however, Herla was given a small bloodhound to carry and warned not to dismount until the hound had leapt from his lap. On reaching the sunlight, he asked a shepherd about his queen only to discover that rather than having been away for three days, as he had thought, he had been away for over two hundred years, and that while he had been absent his lands had been overrun by the Saxons. At this moment a few of his men dismounted and turned instantly to dust, reminding Herla of the pygmy king’s warning not to dismount until the bloodhound had leapt from its keeper’s arms. The dog, according to Walter, remained steadfastly on its master’s lap until the first year of the reign of Henry II when Herla and his company were seen to plunge into the River Wye at Hereford, their ‘phantom journeying ceased’.9 Walter Map, later in his De Nugis, tells us more about Herla’s troop. The 7 8

Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium, ed. C.N.L. Brooke and R.A.B. Mynors (Oxford, 1983), 26–31. The pygmy king was inverting the ‘normal’ rules surrounding the provision of victuals for the celebrations since Walter points us to the fact that ‘nothing [the pygmy king’s servants] brought was of the king’s stock’, and that in providing the victuals in this way, the pygmy king was placing King Herla in his debt. This action contrasts with the ‘norms’ applied in the story of Erec and Enide’s wedding feast where King Arthur, Erec’s lord and the host for the wedding, provided so lavishly for those in attendance that everyone had his fill of food and more (Chrétien de Troyes, Erec et Enide, ed. M. Rousse (Paris, 1994), vv. 2025–68). Other examples of the normal standard of behaviour can be found in G.C. Homans, English Villagers of the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge, Mass., 1941, rptd Toronto, 1975), 173 and 439 n. 27, who cited a case at Wistow, Hunts., of a man who was fined 12d because he did not provide a dinner on his wedding night for the famulis of the court of Wistow. The man, Robert Juwel, was ordered to put right his error forthwith. See also Chaucer’s Clerk’s Tale, which is based on Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decameron, where Walter and Giselda are married after which the wedding feast takes place at Walter’s house (H.G. Kelly, Love and Marriage in the Age of Chaucer (Ithaca, 1975), 181–2). 9 Orderic Vitalis also knew of King Herla and his followers (The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, 6 vols, ed. M. Chibnall (Oxford, 1969–81), iv. 236–51).

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‘Herlethingi’, were now transformed into a company of the recently dead as well as the original company that Herla took with him to the underworld.10 This company of men, Walter goes on to say, were last seen ‘in the march of Wales and Hereford’ in 1154–5 when they were spotted in the middle of the day travelling ‘as we do’, said Walter, ‘with carts and sumpter horses, pack-saddles and panniers, hawks and hounds, and a concourse of men and women’. Having been challenged by the ever-watchful marcher folk, the Herlethingi ‘rose up into the air and vanished’ and ‘handed over their wanderings to us poor fools’, by which Walter meant himself and those who with him followed the court. To Walter Map, who experienced the court first hand, Henry II’s court was something that was in perpetual motion. It ceaselessly wandered around Henry II’s lands, and in doing so wore out clothes, wasted whole kingdoms, broke down the bodies of those who followed it and of the beasts which bore them on their itinerations. Everything ‘is done in haste’, he complained, ‘we do nothing considered, nothing at leisure; with haste that is vain and wholly unfruitful to us we are borne on in mad course . . . we rush on at a furious pace; the present we treat with negligence and folly, the future we entrust to chance’.11 Later on, when describing Henry II, Walter added that Henry travelled in ‘unbearably long stages’ at ‘double-quick speed’, which, in this respect, made him ‘merciless beyond measure to the familia that accompanied him’.12 This description of the court and its itinerary from a man who experienced Henry II’s court at first hand is strongly at variance with Jolliffe’s construct of the Angevin court and, indeed, Le Patourel’s construct of the court of Henry I. The court was not a sedate community moving in orderly fashion by planned stages; neither was it a community that was benign in its effect on those who witnessed its passing. On the contrary, what defined the court was not its orderliness, but its disorderliness; if Orderic Vitalis’s account of Herlechin’s following is to be believed, the court behaved more like an army going to war against its own people than a benign form of peaceful governance uniting king and subjects.13 And in its itinerary, according to Walter Map, the court, in the end, destroyed those who tried to keep pace with it. This picture of the royal court in a chaotic scramble around the lands of Henry II stands in marked contrast to the vision of Henry I’s court as described by the same author. Henry I’s court was, according to Walter, arranged with great precision and notice was publicly announced of the days of his travelling and of his stay, with the number of days and the names of vils, so that everyone might know without chance of mistake the course of his living, month by month. Nothing was done without preparation, or without previous arrangement, or in a hurry: everything was managed as befitted a king and with proper control.14 Indeed Walter Map’s account of the court of King Henry I sounds much more like Jolliffe’s account of the court of King Henry II. Is it possible to try to resolve these differences? Throughout his text, Walter was at pains to draw an unfavourable dichotomy 10 11 12 13 14

Map, De Nugis, 370–1. Map, De Nugis, 372–3. Map, De Nugis, 476–7. OV, iv. 236–51. Map, De Nugis, 470–3.

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between the courts of the two kings. This is not the place to explore why Walter took this view, but what is clear is that he, along with many of his contemporaries, saw Henry I’s reign as something of a golden age and he used his understanding of that golden age as a yard-stick by which he might measure the failings of the king and the court of his own day. In Walter’s view, the world had never seen a court like that of Henry II and would, with luck, never see its like again.15 Furthermore, Walter Map’s view about the orderliness of Henry I’s court has gained a wide currency because it seems to chime with comments made by some contemporaries about the way in which Henry I imposed order on his domus and on his wider court.16 We are told by Eadmer, for example, that before Henry instituted reforms into his court in 1108, the arrival of the court struck fear in those who saw its coming. Eadmer said that it had been the practice of some to plunder the neighbourhoods through which the court travelled. This commentator’s characterisation of William Rufus’s court in particular is one in which the king was followed by an ill-disciplined rabble which engaged in wanton destruction forcing those who wished to preserve themselves from attack to flee into the woods.17 These unfortunates not only had their property consumed or destroyed, they were also forced out of the safety of communal life into the uncertain world of the green wood where the outlaw of twelfth-century society traditionally waited to prey on the vulnerable. It is a testament to the fear that the king’s approach brought to the settled inhabitants of late eleventh-century England that (in Eadmer’s mind at least) these law-abiding men and women preferred the uncertain danger of the green wood to the certain danger of the king’s men. William of Malmesbury gives us a similar impression of the impact of royal itineration. The fact that, according to William, Henry I needed to ‘notify the persons of his court by proclamation as to how much they might receive from the rustics as a gift, how much it was their duty to buy, and at what price’ suggests that it was customary for members of the court to predate on those whom they came across in their travels.18 Most vividly of all, the Peterborough version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recounted how, wherever the king and his court went, ‘there was complete ravaging of his wretched people . . . during the course of which there were often burnings and killings’.19 Both William of Malmesbury and Eadmer wrote their comments about the royal courts of Rufus and Henry I in the context of the reforms that Henry instituted into the itinerant court about the year 1108. One echo of these reforms is to be found in the document we now call the Constitutio Domus Regis, though it is clear that this is a thirteenthcentury appellation rather than the name by which the document was known in the twelfth century.20 The document refers specifically to the domus, that is those people whose overwhelming duty was to the king and his itinerant court, rather than to the wider court, but its terms have been seen as reflecting a court-wide reform.21 Henry I’s reputation as a monarch capable of commanding respect from those who attended his court may well have meant that the impact of royal itineration was 15 16

Map, De Nugis, 374–5. C.W. Hollister with A.C. Frost, Henry I (London, 2001); J. Green, The Government of England under Henry I (Cambridge, 1986), chapter 2. 17 Eadmeri Historia Novorum in Anglia, ed. M. Rule (London, RS, 1884), 192–3. 18 William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, 2 vols, ed. R.M. Thomson and M. Winterbottom (Oxford, 1998–9), 742–3. 19 Anglo Saxon Chronicle, ‘E’, s.a. 1104. 20 The Dialogus de Scaccario and the Constitutio Domus Regis, ed. E. Amt and S.D. Church (Oxford, forthcoming). 21 Green, Government, 27.

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less brutal than it had been during the times of his predecessors.22 Eadmer and William of Malmesbury certainly thought there was a wider application of the reforms which we see enumerated in the Constitutio and Walter Map, writing in the 1180s, also thought the reforms referred to the domus and to the wider familia.23 While the evidence we have refers solely to the domus, we get a hint in later evidence that allowances for visitors to the court existed. To cite Walter Map again, he said that Henry I ‘had a register of all the earls and barons of his land, and appointed for them at his coming or during the stay of his court certain presents with which he honoured them, of candles, bread, and wine’.24 And in the reign of King John, provision was made for visiting dignitaries to be sustained from the resources of the royal household. But a picture of an orderly court moving in gentle itineration around the land after the reforms of 1108 would be a misleading one. As we have seen, Walter Map for one saw the court of his own day as chaotic and although he applauded Henry I for the orderliness of his court, he did so to set up the juxtaposition with the court of Henry II with which he was so familiar. If the court of Henry I really was such a gentle beast, then the courts of his successors did not live up to this high standard. One indication of this lies in the charters that towns acquired from the crown in their search for self-governing status. A clause that seems to run through many of the charters is the one which exempts the borough from providing hospitality to the king’s court or to anyone else. The first London charter gives no hint that royal hospitality might be exacted by force, but by 1155 the exemption included the phrase that hospitality should not be taken per vim. Thereafter charters for London, Canterbury, Northampton, Norwich, Lincoln, Ipswich, Colchester, Grimsby, Lynn, Yarmouth, Bristol, and Dublin all included some form of the words ‘no one shall take hospitality by force’, with the proviso that the burgesses of any of these towns might offer hospitality if they wished. While we might expect some repetition of formulas in borough charters, we should note that the words used are not slavishly the same. In the case of London, moreover, which seems to have provided something of an exemplar for many of the borough charters issued in the twelfth century, we can be pretty certain that the exemption was something that made a real difference to the burgesses’s finances and to public order. The contrast between the relatively innocuous ‘within the city walls none shall have hospitality neither of my household nor of any other unless hospitality be freely offered’ of the 1130–33 charter and the more direct ‘within the walls no one shall take hospitality by force or by the livery of the marshal’ of the 1155 charter is indication enough that provisioning the royal court was a burden which Londoners were trying to avoid if at all possible.25 The language of the hospitality exemption clause suggests that throughout the twelfth century the court was capable of taking what it pleased, by force if necessary, with little regard to the niceties of payment. Billeting oneself and one’s followers on communities was evidently seen by kings as a royal prerogative which they might, if they so chose, give away. In other contexts, Henry I has been seen as a predatory king, exacting from his magnates somewhat more than they might have thought was just.26 Is it likely in this context that the court in its itinerary suddenly became co-ordinated and non-predatory? It seems that this would be a 22 23 24 25 26

Hollister with Frost, Henry I, 213–16. Map, De Nugis, 438–9. Map, De Nugis, 470–1. British Borough Charters 1042–1216, ed. A. Ballard (Cambridge, 1913), 86–7. F.M. Stenton, The First Century of English Feudalism (Oxford, 2nd edn, 1961), 218–23; D. Bates, ‘Normandy and England before 1066’, EHR 104 (1989), 851–80 (at 866).

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cuddly image of Henry I that does not sit comfortably with the image of that king that has come down to us. One element that seems to have been left out of most people’s analysis of the royal progress is that of the hunt, perhaps because to modern eyes it seems to represent the frivolities of the court rather than the serious business of government.27 The Constitutio Domus Regis, however, makes it evident that the royal domus in 1136 also included the hunt (as, indeed, does the testimony of Walter Map). The hunt was an integral part of the domus, helping the king to fill his larders and helping him to enjoy, whenever the opportunity arose, the pleasures of the chase. These huntsmen, to John of Salisbury in his Policraticus ‘bestial’ in appearance and ‘monstrous’ in behaviour,28 must have given the king’s entourage an added menace. That the hunt was an important part of the impact of the royal progress in the reigns of Henry I and his successors seems likely for two reasons. The first is the inclusion of the hunt amongst the members of the domus in the Constitutio Domus Regis, which was an organisation that was evidently geared to deal with the king’s daily needs. The second comes from evidence in the reign of King John when we can sometimes track the movement of the hunt through the household accounts that survive from the reign. The first time that we can see the hunt in any real detail in its movements around the land is in John’s fourteenth regnal year (3 May 1212 to 22 May 1213) through one of the household account rolls that survive from that year. This document is the mise roll and its level of detail allows us to see something of the complexities that accompanied royal itineration in the twelfth century, and it shows that the hunt did indeed follow the king in his itinerary around the land. The huntsmen and the hunting dogs were not always in precisely the same location as the king but, certainly for nine months of the year and possibly more, they followed him and his court as he travelled up and down the land, meeting up with the king when he had need of their services. We can, for example, track the movements of a group of 52 handlers, 167 greyhounds, 38 dogs of the pack, 32 bercelets, 9 boys, and two senior huntsmen, Ferling the huntsman and Thomas de Porkereciis from May 1212 right the way through to the following December. These men and dogs, augmented by others as the need arose, shadowed the king’s itinerary as he travelled around his lands. Often the royal hunt was to be found a few miles from the king’s location, presumably awaiting the moment for the hunt to begin. When the king was at Odiham on 11 May, for example, the hunt was eight miles away at Basingstoke.29 On 20 May, while the king was at the Tower, these men were five miles away at Stratford.30 On 23 May, these men and dogs were sent through the night to Guildford there to await the arrival of the king at Odiham on 30 May.31 At other times, the hunt pressed on ahead of the king to make it to a royal hunting lodge and to await the king’s arrival. On 7 July 1212, for example, the hunt arrived at the lodge at Sauvey, Leicestershire, where John joined it two days later on 9 July. They had all travelled down from York, where they had been with the king on 1 July, presumably by the same route as he took, but in advance of him.32 During the two days between 25 and 27 28

Barlow, William Rufus, 119–32 is, as usual, the exception to this general rule. Ioannis Saresbereiensis Episcopi Carnetensis Policratici sive De Nugis Curialium et Vestigiis Philisophorum Libri VIII, 2 vols, ed. C.C.I. Webb (Oxford, 1909), i. book 1, chapter 5. 29 Documents of English History Illustrative of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, H. Cole (London, Rec. Comm., 1844) [Docs English History], 231. 30 Docs English History, 232. 31 Docs English History, 232, 233. 32 Docs English History, 234, 235; The History of the King’s Works: The Middle Ages, 3 vols, ed. H.M. Colvin, R.A. Brown and A. Taylor (London, 1963), ii. 829.

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27 July, these huntsmen made their way to Devizes with the king and between 29 and 31 July, they tracked the king to Worcester.33 By mid-September 1212, the king’s hunt had swelled to 300 greyhounds, 64 handlers, 9 bercelets and 16 boarhounds. They were with the king at Nottingham on 13 September and were with him again at Sauvey, Leicestershire, on 15 September.34 A smaller pack of 114 greyhounds was at Bath with John on 17 October.35 The pack was at Windsor from 31 October to 2 November while John shuttled between the Temple, Westminster, London and Windsor.36 And it travelled to Gloucester via Cirencester on 7 and 8 November while, on the 8th and 9th of the month, John was at Flaxley, near Newnham-on-Severn, less than twelve miles from Gloucester. The pack then joined John at Flaxley on 12 November before going to Nottingham, arriving there on 23 November a day before John arrived on the 24th. The pack was at King’s Cliffe, Northamptonshire, on 29 November (the king was at Stamford that day less than ten miles away) and by 4 December it was at Brackley while the king was at Woodstock twenty miles away.37 Evidently, always within a few miles of the king, and often with him, too, was the king’s hunt with its multitude of dogs, dog handlers and huntsmen of various kinds.38 These individuals and their dogs must have had a profound impact on the places through which they passed as they kept pace with the king. These men and dogs should be seen as part of the impact of royal itineration and not a very pleasant one at that.39

33 34 35 36 37 38

Docs English History, 236. Docs English History, 241. Docs English History, 244. Docs English History, 246. Docs English History, 248. At a pace of 5 or 6 leagues a day (15 or 18 miles) (Rotuli de Liberate ac de Misis et Praestitis Regnante Johanne, ed. T.D. Hardy (London, Rec. Comm., 1844) [Rot. de Lib.], 112). 39 The size of the hunt varied, but was seldom less than 150 dogs strong, and could be as many as 300 (Docs English History, 241). In early October the pack was reduced in size as groups of greyhounds were lodged with the king’s trusted servants around the country (ibid., 243). It is at this point that the payment for birds of prey enters the Mise Roll for 14 John, though the pack of greyhounds that remained still numbered between one and two hundred dogs with between twenty and fifty handlers depending on the needs of the king (ibid., 244, 246, 247, 248, 250, 253). This pack was kept together until February 1213 before being broken up on 3 March that year (ibid., 254 – 123 dogs). John seems to have been without his pack of hunting hounds throughout the months of March, April and May (at least until the record gives out on 22 of that month) which leads one to wonder if he was adhering to some notion of a closed season in hunting red deer and hare. There is no doubt that hunting with birds was an autumn and winter activity, but hunting with dogs may well have gone on all year round or may indeed have stopped in March. The evidence for hunting with dogs in the Mise Roll for John’s fourteenth regnal year is problematic, however. This regnal year is longer than twelve months, running, as it does, from 3 May 1212 to 22 May 1213. There is overlap, therefore, in May. And this is where we are left to speculate, because from mid-March to the end of the account for 1213 (22 May) there are no accounts for the maintenance of the huntsmen and their dogs (the last reference is on 16 March (Docs English History, 256)), rather the account roll is littered with references to the king’s arms and money being moved towards the muster point at Portsmouth. This might lead us to suppose that John was allowing for a closed season in the hunting of red deer and hare, one which it has traditionally been supposed was located around mid-summer, but in some cases extending as far into the spring as Lady Day (25 March) and into the summer as the feast of SS Peter and Paul (29 June) (R. Hammond, Medieval Hunting (Stroud, 2003), 85, 87). But in 1212 the months of May and June saw a plethora of entries on the Mise Roll for the expenses of the king’s hunt. The evidence from the Mise Roll of John’s eleventh regnal year (7 May 1209 to 26 May 1210) is intractable because the expenses for the king’s hunt were not entered on this roll. There is an entry on 7 March 1210, however, which suggests that ninety of the king’s hounds were being split up and lodged with favoured followers around the country, just as they were to be on 9 March 1213, as we have seen (Rot. de Lib., 153). The references to the king’s hunt that found their way onto the Prestita Roll for the following year, John’s twelfth regnal year (27 May 1210 to 11 May 1211) are also suggestive of a closed season. References to the

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To Jolliffe in his chapter on the king’s eyre, the king travelled at a ‘steady’ pace accompanied by a ‘compact and economical hospicium Regis which lay at the core of the royal itinerary’. Walter Map’s characterisation of Henry II’s progress is a little more colourful. The court, he said, travelled not only with hawks and hounds but also with carts and sumpter horses, pack-saddles and a whole concourse of men and women who travelled at a reckless pace as they traversed the realm. Is it possible to test the truth of Walter Map’s words and compare those words to Jolliffe’s assertion concerning the sedate nature of the royal progress? Again it is the mise roll from John’s fourteenth regnal year that gives us an indication of this whole concourse of men and women who accompanied the king on his travels and gives us some idea of the pace at which the king and his court moved. We have only an inkling of the number of carts in use at any one time since carts owned by the king do not merit a mention in these household accounts. There are, however, regular references to the hire of carts to carry excess baggage or to replace carts that were temporarily out of order. The identity of the carters is lost to us, though we know of a group of five men led by a certain Odo the carter.40 The carts that these men led were either one-horse or two-horse carts, invariably of the two-wheeled variety,41 though the existence of two ‘long cart[s] of the wardrobe’ is attested by the mise roll.42 In the king’s entourage were also packhorses and sumpter men. The names of the sumpter men, or pack men, of the wardrobe are preserved for us in their regular payments for expenses and in their regular payment for the purchase of shoes and robes.43 But these figures only seem to show the tip of the iceberg and it seems likely that there were many more men associated with the carts and the sumpter horses than received the payments mentioned in the mise roll. On 2 August 1212, for example, Thomas and Robin Marshal were reimbursed for money which they had paid out on 15 April 1212 while five sumpter men of the wardrobe, a sumpter man of the box (cloeria), ten carters of the household, and twelve stable boys who had charge of fifty-one palfreys tarried at Gillingham, Dorset.44 We only hear of these men because the king was elsewhere. On 12 January 1213, ten carters of the wardrobe with twenty-five cart horses received their expenses.45 And on 30 April, the wardrobe had swelled to a dozen carts, drawn by eighteen carthorses, and seventy-seven palfreys.46 The buttery, the spense, the venery, the fruiterer (interestingly only appearing in the accounts after September), and the royal cooks all had their own carts which had, perforce, to keep pace with the king.47 And when the king brought along his treasure, the number of carts and horses that followed in the royal wake increased still further.48 It does not look terribly ‘compact or economical’ on the basis of this evidence. Unlike the huntsmen and their dogs, the carters and the sumpter men were often required to keep pace with the king, which meant that, given that he was on payment of huntsmen are confined to the end of June 1210 to the beginning of March 1211 (Rot. de Lib., 248–51, 231, 233, 239, 241, 243). 40 Docs English History, 231, 236, 240, 244, 248, 249, 251, 254. 41 J. Langdon, ‘Horse Hauling: A Revolution in Wheeled Transport in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century England’, Past and Present 103 (1984), 37–66. 42 Docs English History, 235, 242. 43 Docs English History, 231, 233, 234, 236, 240, 244, 254, 258. 44 Docs English History, 236. 45 Docs English History, 251. 46 Docs English History, 261, 262. 47 Docs English History, 236, 237, 243, 244, 246, 246, 262. 48 Docs English History, 246, 247.

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horseback and they travelled at the pace of a carthorse, this could only have been achieved with considerable effort. No doubt the men of the carts and the pack horses took a more direct route than the king, perhaps setting off earlier and arriving later in the day in order to complete the required distances. When the king made a 34-mile trip from Tickhill to Rothwell, Yorkshire, and then travelled the twenty-five miles from Rothwell to Knaresborough, and then the forty-two miles from Knaresborough to Richmond, Yorkshire, on 12, 13, and 15 June, the men of the carts kept pace.49 The following day, 16 June, the king followed by the men of the carts travelled the forty-six miles to Bowes, Yorkshire, and on 17 June they travelled another twentyone miles to Appleby, Westmorland.50 On 18 June, the court was off again to Kirkoswald, twenty-two miles from Appleby, on 19 June they were five miles down the road at Plumpton, and on 20 June they travelled the fifteen miles to Caldbeck in Allerdale; on 21 June they travelled the eight miles to Wigton where they remained for a day, presumably soaking their aching feet which had travelled the best part of 220 miles in ten days.51 Again, this does not look sedate; in fact it looks as it must have been: a terrible slog. John of Worcester, in an off-hand comment, noted that in 1133 when Henry I embarked for Normandy for the last time he was surrounded, ‘as is usual with kings, by bands of knights’.52 Walter Map uses the same language with regard to Henry II. In a now famous account of the humiliation of a Cistercian monk who exposed himself during a tumble in front of the king, Walter says Henry was ‘accompanied by an infinite number of his knights and clerks as was his custom’.53 The immediate impact of the king’s arrival was evidently very great indeed. But not every member of the court and hanger on clumped around the king. There is some suggestion that members of the court were dispersed around a considerable area and that the impact of royal itineration was widely felt. One indication of this dispersal emerges from the later court of the verge, for which there is no evidence before the thirteenth century, but which suggests that the court most likely had a wide geographical impact, extending to twelve miles in any direction from the king’s presence.54 Another indication of the court’s dispersal comes from the evidence of the royal hunt which kept pace with the king, but did not dog his every footstep. It cannot have been, either, that kings travelled in the company of their carters and sumpter men, even though these men were often required to keep pace with the king. Sometimes we get a glimpse of the fact that the carts of the wardrobe became separated from the king. On 4 June 1212, for example, four sumpter men and four carters of the wardrobe travelled the twenty-seven miles from Chertsey to the Tower. The king, meanwhile, had stopped off at Thames Ditton for the night before proceeding to the Tower.55 In November 1212, while the king was at Hereford, his treasure was waiting for him at Gloucester thirty miles away before making its way to Notting-

49 50 51 52 53 54

Docs English History, 233, 234. Docs English History, 234. Docs English History, 234. John of Worcester, s.a. 1133 Map, De Nugis, 102–3. W.R. Jones, ‘The Court of the Verge: The Jurisdiction of the Steward and the Marshal of the Household in Late Medieval England’, Journal of British Studies 10 (1970), 1–29 (at 2); T.F. Tout, Chapters in the Administrative History of Mediaeval England, 6 vols (Manchester, 1920–33), ii. 33. 55 Docs English History, 233.

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ham to meet the king on 24 November. On 24, 25, and 26 November, the treasure then kept company with the king on his journey.56 But we must imagine that other men had to be with the king every night come hell or high water. In August 1212, the sumpter horse that customarily carried the king’s bed died on the road to Bridgnorth as the king was, in the words of the entry in the mise roll, ‘going to give assistance to Robert de Vieuxpont who was besieged in Wales’; no doubt the double-quick speed did for the poor packhorse. The need to acquire a new horse at the earliest moment was evidently keenly felt.57 No doubt the cooks had to be with the king, too, as did the laundress (the only female to be mentioned by name during the accounting year, though we know other women must have been present58), and the Ewer who was responsible for providing water and drying the king’s clothes.59 The royal entourage was not just made up of the domus and the hunt. There were many more people who had business at the court. The king’s household knights, who are not mentioned in the Constitutio, comprised another important section in the royal presence, and when the king was in full force, they might number as many as two hundred individuals.60 And as the core of the royal army when the king went to war, these individuals were themselves scarcely less intimidating than the royal hunt. The court also contained a selection of the most powerful lords in the land with their retinues in tow. The analysis by Warren Hollister of Henry I’s charters shows that the court was regularly swollen by the presence of magnates, both lay and ecclesiastical, with royal business to conduct.61 These magnates, too, would have brought their own men, since, to paraphrase Barlow’s memorable words, in this age no man of substance went unattended.62 David Crouch, for example, has argued that William Marshal’s ‘touring retinue’ would have numbered forty or fifty individuals, and while no doubt William was one of the big players at the royal court, he was not the only one who had a pack of followers.63 In addition at the royal court there must have been the suitors seeking royal justice and the hawkers seeking to sell their wares. Then there were those individuals whose very existence depended on the alms-giving culture of the court – the pauperes. The Constitutio mentions ‘the bearer of the alms-bowl’, whose duty it was to collect the scraps from the royal table to be distributed to the poor after each meal.64 King John had daily distributions made to the poor; he regularly ordered one hundred paupers to be fed in payment for his own misdemeanour of eating meat on Friday; and for one relapse on Good Friday 56 57

Docs English History, 247. Docs English History, 237; the bed ‘of the royal tent’ (was this a different bed to the one carried by the sumpter horse?) was made up from sack-cloth and wool on 14 September 1212 (Docs English History, 241). 58 There was an office of ‘marshal of the whores of the royal household’ from at least the reign of Henry II when it was held by Ranulf de Broc (Acta of Henry II, ed. Vincent, no. 328). 59 Docs English History, 237, 249, 262. 60 S.D. Church, ‘The Knights of the Household of King John: A Question of Numbers’, in TCE, iv, ed. P.R. Coss and S.D. Lloyd (Woodbridge, 1992), 151–65. 61 Monarchy, Magnates, and Institutions in the Anglo-Norman World (London, 1986), 97–115; see also D. Bates, ‘The Prosopographical Study of Anglo-Norman Royal Charters’, in K.S.B. Keats-Rohan, ed., Family Trees and the Roots of Politics (Woodbridge, 1997), 89–102, and Hollister’s response in his Henry I, 499–506. 62 According to Orderic Vitalis, William Rufus was always ‘surrounded by companies of chosen knights as a mark of distinction’ (OV, v. 214–15); F. Barlow, William Rufus (London, 1983), 134. 63 William Marshall: Court, Career and Chivalry in the Angevin Empire, 1147–1219 (London, 1990), 133–49. 64 Dialogus and Constitutio, forthcoming.

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1211, he ordered a thousand paupers to be fed.65 Whether these one thousand individuals were actually found is difficult to ascertain – Edward I managed to feed only 600 individuals at any one occasion according to the detailed records that survive from his reign – but the intention to feed that large number was clearly expressed.66 At the great feasts of the Christian calendar, therefore, there must have been several thousand souls wandering around the royal court, some of them close intimates of the king enjoying royal hospitality, others outsiders, eking out a living from the excess of royal consumption.67 Even at the least busy times of the king’s itinerary, the royal entourage can have scarcely contained fewer than five hundred individuals. This is the size of a small town like Evesham in Worcestershire in the twelfth century or a town like the well-documented Halesowen in the same county in the thirteenth century.68 It is small wonder that the royal court attracted a range of hangers on who swelled the ranks of those who travelled in the king’s entourage. We are told by Walter Map, for example, that Henry I’s court attracted merchants from overseas with ‘wares and luxuries for sale’ for the purpose of trading with the household officials and members of the court.69 Whenever the royal court came into a locality so, too, did the merchants and tradesmen, creating with them an itinerant market. The impact of this market on the local economies of the areas the court visited, if transitory, must have been great, and the presence of these traders increased the impact of the royal presence. In a world where most communities were rural, where the life cycle was marked by the turning of the seasons, where the loudest noise came from the peal of the church bells calling the faithful to worship, where the greatest colour and excitement was created at festivals or at fairs and market, or perhaps in the alehouse in the evening,70 the arrival of the king and his entourage must have been a spectacular and threatening moment in the life of any community, especially if that community were required to billet the king and his court.71 There is a further aspect of the Jolliffian construct of the royal itinerary which we should explore before this discussion comes to a close, and this lies in the predictability of the royal progress. To most commentators on the royal itinerary in the twelfth century, one of the defining features of this activity was its element of predictability. Walter Map, after all, told us that Henry I so ordered his court that everyone knew where the court would be: ‘nothing was done without preparation, or without previous arrangement, or in a hurry: everything was managed as befitted a 65

H. Johnstone, ‘Poor-Relief in the Royal Households of Thirteenth-Century England’, Speculum 4 (1929), 149–67 (at 152–3). Sally Dixon-Smith, ‘The Image of Alms-Giving in the Great Halls of Henry III’, Jnl British Archaelogical Association (1999), 79–96 (at 85–9). 66 M. Prestwich, ‘The Piety of Edward I’, in England in the Thirteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1984 Harlaxton Symposium (Harlaxton, 1985), 120–9 (at 121–2). 67 At Richard I’s coronation ceremony, at least 900 cups, 1770 pitchers, and 5050 dishes were bought for the event (J. Gillingham, Richard I (New Haven, 1999), 107); for the Christmas feast of 1207, John spent some £500 on cloth and dyes alone for the robes he intended to distribute, an amount equivalent to the county farms of Oxfordshire and Herefordshire combined. Walter Map, who knew the court intimately, on one occasion described Henry’s court as containing ‘milia milium’ individuals, and elsewhere he says of it that it was comprised ‘in tanta tot milium’ (Map, De Nugis, 24–5). 68 Richard Holt, ‘Society and Population 600–1300’, in The Cambridge Urban History of Britain: I 600–1540, ed. D.M. Palliser (Cambridge, 2000), 79–104. 69 Map, De Nugis, 472–3. 70 Walter Map says that there was one of these drinking houses in every English parish and that they were called, in English, ghildhus, that is a ‘payment house’ (Map, De Nugis, 154–5). Other recorded Old English words are eala hus (ale house) and gest hus (guest house). 71 British Borough Charters, 86–7.

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king and with proper control’.72 Henry II’s court, too, according to Jolliffe, travelled ‘by planned stages’ along the ‘administrative arteries’ of the realm. But will this simple construct stand up to a little questioning? Obviously people needed to know where the king was and where he would be, in part so that they could transact business at court and in part so that they might be prepared for his arrival. It simply cannot have been the case that the king and his court turned up out of the blue and expected to be billeted and fed at a moment’s notice. The Constitutio Domus Regis, for example, intimates that there was at least some preparation for the king’s itinerary: two of the king’s bakers went ahead in order to make some four hundred loaves for the approaching court.73 And the very fact that the court and household could move to the same locations without staying constantly in contact with one another means that people knew at least a day in advance where the king intended to be. But how much further in advance might the king have planned his visitations? Walter Map thought that Henry I planned his itinerary month by month, so at least four weeks in advance, possibly even more. But how much reliance we can put on Walter’s words is a matter for some debate. In every instance where Walter compared Henry I with Henry II, Henry II always came out worse. Henry II had set himself up as an imitator of Henry I (at his accession in 1154 his avowed aim was to restore his realm to the happy condition it had enjoyed under his illustrious grandfather and namesake)74 and as such had set himself up for comparison with Henry I by those who were minded to do so; Walter Map was just such a man and in Walter’s judgment, Henry II was no match for Henry I. In the 1180s, Henry I may have had a reputation for having an orderly court with a planned itinerary, but it does not mean that he did so. At least three contemporaries of the Norman kings: the Anglo-Saxon Chronicler who composed the ‘E’ version entry for 1086; William of Malmesbury; and the author of Henry I’s writ in favour of those places he was supposed to wear his crown, thought that the traditional crown wearings took place at Gloucester (Christmas), Winchester (Easter) and Westminster (Whitsun). Yet, as Biddle has shown, between 1066 and 1135, Westminster was three times more likely to be used as the place to celebrate Christmas as Gloucester.75 The dead hand of tradition clearly did not bind the actions of these Norman kings. It seems, in fact, that the court throughout the twelfth century was one in which unexpected movement was something, paradoxically, to be expected. Twelfth-century kings had to respond to circumstances as they occurred; only a ceremonial court, with a king acting as a figure-head, rather than as a working ruler, could have a fixed itinerary worked out months in advance. Henry I was no such monarch and neither were his successors or predecessors, so it seems unlikely that he or they had the luxury of being able to predict the royal itinerary with as much precision as Walter Map would like us to believe Henry I did. Early in 1106, for example, the great crusader Bohemond, sometime ruler of Antioch and scourge of the Byzantine emperors, indicated to Henry I that he would like to travel to England to solicit support for his intended campaign in the east. Henry, fearing that Bohemond would tempt away his best knights at a moment when he needed them for the conquest of Normandy, advised Bohemond not to risk the dangers of a winter 72 73 74

Map, De Nugis, 471–4. Dialogus and Constitutio, forthcoming. See, for example, Henry II’s charter addressed generally, dated to 19 December 1154 (W. Stubbs, Select Charters (Oxford, 9th edn, 1913), 158). 75 M. Biddle, ‘Seasonal Festivals and Residence: Winchester, Westminster and Gloucester in the Tenth to Twelfth Centuries’, ANS 8 (1985), 51–72.

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crossing, telling him that, in any event, it was his intention to be in Normandy that Easter (25 March), so Bohemond should await his arrival.76 In fact, Henry I did not cross to Normandy until July that year.77 That kings and the people who needed to find them did have some idea where the court would be at certain points in the annual cycle of the royal itinerary seems probable. There were after all only a limited number of places the king was likely to be. Moreover, the king would not have been difficult to find. As should have become clear during the course of this paper, the king was not exactly creeping around his land seeking to hide; in fact he was doing the exact opposite: he was making his presence known; he was trumpeting his progress with the horns of the hunt and with the throng of people who travelled in his wake. He was a big man – in the anthropological sense of the phrase a big man – and he made it his business to make a big splash wherever he went. Some notice of the king’s travels must have been given out for certain occasions. When a large council was called together, for example, or when the king needed to muster his troops for a campaign, then proclamations about the location of the council or the muster would have been made. No doubt the king might plan to be at certain places at key moments during the liturgical calendar. As Richard Mortimer has shown, for the Christmas feast that John planned to hold at Oxford in 1205, preparations were begun as far as six weeks in advance.78 And when Henry II returned from the continent in 1163, people knew of his impending arrival even if the difficulties of a channel crossing in the winter meant that the king’s arrival was delayed. Henry had tried to sail from Barfleur on 2 December to arrive in England for the Christmas festivities. In the end, Henry had to wait for nearly two months before he could safely cross to England. Henry and his wife Eleanor eventually made landfall at Romsey around 25 January, having been preceded by their son, the young Henry, who had no doubt warned of his parents’ imminent arrival. On the shore, Robert of Torigny tells us, were waiting the good and the great ready to welcome their king. Among the throng was Richard of Anstey, who was seeking an audience with the king.79 Unsurprisingly, in the crush of things it took Richard a further three weeks before he could get an audience with Henry and then he had to try and see the king first at Reading, then at Wallingford, and finally at Woodstock. At each of these places he awaited the king’s arrival, presumably having heard some word that the king intended to be in these places at a given time.80 But knowing where the king might be at certain points did not constitute a carefully planned itinerary. Real kings had to be prepared to change their plans to reflect the exigencies of government. In 1212, for example, John planned to launch a mission to Poitou, the evidence for which litters the record evidence. In June, John was in the north of England lending support to the king of Scots. The revolt of the Welsh that month led the king to change his mind about going to Poitou and to redirect his army. The host that had been summoned for Poitou was called instead to Chester. Shortly thereafter, John heard news that there was a plan to unseat him from power, so he abandoned the Welsh campaign and went north to suppress the seeds of rebellion. 81 This

76 77 78 79

OV, vi. 68–9. Mooers Christlelow, ‘A Moveable Feast?’, 187–228 (at 215). Mortimer, Angevin England, 19. Torigny, iv. 216. English Lawsuits from William I to Richard I, 2 vols, ed. R.C. van Caenegem (London, Selden Society, 106, 107, 1990–1), ii. 401. 80 English Lawsuits, ii. 401–2. 81 W.L. Warren, King John (London, 1961), 199–205.

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combination of planned itinerary punctuated by quick responses to immediate threats must have characterised the itinerary of every king in the twelfth century. The pygmy king’s actions in Walter Map’s tale of King Herla’s wedding feast were those of the exceptional guest who subverted the normal rules of behaviour. The pygmy king brought food and drink in abundance with rich vessels in which to serve it; he brought his own accommodation; he brought his own servants who distinguished themselves by the quality of their service to all; his men were brilliantly attired and they behaved impeccably causing no offence to anyone; and the pygmy king, after making a courteous speech, returned to his tent before departing at first light, careful not to out-stay his welcome.82 It was an image that the young king Henry sought to imitate when he attended the coronation of Philip at Rheims in 1179. Robert of Torigny tells us that Henry the younger brought with him a ‘large retinue of knights; and, by his father’s orders, he had brought with him such provision for the journey, that he accepted free quarters from no one, either on the road thither or during the festival’.83 Both these examples make the point that considerate action by the travelling courts of the twelfth century was unusual. In normal circumstances, when the royal court descended on a locality it did so in the form of a predator. While many of its actions were no doubt rational, many of its actions were also chaotic and irrational and its impact on the countryside through which it passed was certainly not universally beneficial.

82

Torigny, iv. 197 for an example of how Louis provided for all Henry’s needs on his visit to Paris in 1158 and how Henry provided for all Louis’ needs on the latter’s sojourn at Mont-Saint-Michel (ibid., 198). Henry conducted Louis ‘to the limits of the duchy’ when the visit was over. 83 Torigny, iv. 287.

The Minority Governments of Henry III, Henry (VII) and Louis IX Compared

Christian Hillen Sunday 27 July 1214 was a hot day. And it was a decisive day in European history. It was the day of the battle of Bouvines which the French king Philip Augustus won against the superior combined German-English forces of Emperor Otto IV and William of Salisbury, King John’s half brother.1 The battlefield of Bouvines brought together kings, nobles and knights from three different societies or kingdoms – nations, if the word can be used in a thirteenth-century context – whose structures, customs, laws and history varied, but who were to suffer a very similar fate not too long after this battle: all three kingdoms were to be ruled by a minor. King John of England would die on the night of 27 to 28 October 1216 and leave his realm and his problems, resulting largely from the outcome of the battle of Bouvines,2 to his barely nine-year-old son Henry III. He must have been very worried about the future of his dynasty, since he took a number of measures shortly before his death to secure Henry’s succession.3 His Capetian rival over the Angevin possessions on the continent, King Louis VIII of France, on the other hand, left twelve-year-old Louis IX – Saint Louis as he was to be called from 1297 on – a relatively well-ordered realm.4 He did not seem to be too worried about his son’s succession, since he would not have him crowned before his own death.5 Of course the succession was not as smooth as Louis VIII might have expected it, or wanted it to be. The situation in Germany was different. Frederick II, whose success against his rival to the German throne, Otto IV, was to a large extent due to the success of Philip Augustus against the Emperor,6 was still very much alive when his son Henry (VII) Minority Governments Compared

1

For the battle itself see G. Duby, Der Sonntag von Bouvines. 27. Juli 1214 (Berlin, 1988). For the European context see A. Cartellieri, Die Schlacht von Bouvines (27. Juli 1214) im Rahmen der europäischen Politik (Leipzig, 1914). Brief descriptions can also be found in W. Stürner, Friedrich, Teil 1: Die Königsherrschaft in Sizilien und Deutschland 1194–1220 (Darmstadt, 1992), 163–8, and B.U. Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV., Schriften der MGH 34 (Hanover, 1990), 303–19. 2 D.A. Carpenter, The Minority of Henry III (Berkeley, 1990), 9: ‘The road from Bouvines to Runnymede was a short one.’ 3 Ibid., 12. 4 J. Le Goff, Ludwig der Heilige (Stuttgart, 2000), 58–63. 5 Louis VIII himself was the first Capetian king for more than two hundred years who had not been crowned during his father’s lifetime. He did not have Louis IX crowned during his own lifetime either. The continuity of the dynasty seemed to be safe enough: Le Goff, Ludwig, 64–5. See also R. Pernoud, La Reine Blanche (Paris, 1972), 38. A.W. Lewis, ‘Royal Succession in Capetian France: Studies on Familial Order and the State’, Harvard Historical Studies 100 (1981), 92 calls the practice of crowning the sons during the father’s lifetime ‘anticipatory association’ but would rather have 1190 than 1223 as the date for the discontinuance of this custom, because no French king before Philip Augustus had dared to go on a crusade, which meant a potentially life threatening adventure, without securing succession in any way. 6 W. Kienast, Deutschland und Frankreich in der Kaiserzeit (900–1270) (Leipzig, 1943), 174–5;

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was elected German king in April 1220. In fact he was about to be crowned Emperor by Pope Honorius IV in Rome and was afraid of leaving Germany without having secured this important power base. He wanted to know that it was safely in the hands of a member of the Hohenstaufen house. His plan actually worked out fine with just one problem to be solved: Henry was not yet of age. At the time of his election he was only about nine years old. Thus Frederick’s plan produced the same, or at least a very similar, situation as in England and France: a king who was neither physically nor mentally capable of being the real centre of an effective government. The solution to this problem was in each case very similar: in all three cases a regent of some sort took over the day-to-day business of government until the minor king would finally be of age. To the three minority governments a fourth, that of the Spanish king Jacob I ‘The Conqueror’ of Aragon could be added.7 However, despite all the differences, there seem particularly to have been similarities in the court cultures of the three Northwest European countries that make them a very good subject for more detailed scrutiny.8 The Spanish case will therefore be ignored at this point. The focus of this paper will be a more detailed look at the households, the organisation of the courts, and relations between households and courts, during the minority governments in England, Germany and France. The practice of patronage will also be at the centre of my attention. In its essentials this paper is intended to serve as a rough sketch offering a platform for more extensive research. An initial problem concerns the definition of ‘household’ and ‘court’. For the sake of comparability between the three different national systems – if we may so define them – it seemed advisible not to give a too narrow definition of court, if this is possible at all. I will use court in this context as a term describing the personal surrounding of the ruler, his entourage or, to quote Walter Map, who emphasized the constantly changing personnel of the court: ‘The court is the same, its members are changed . . . yet the court is not changed; . . . it remains always the same . . . a hundred-headed giant . . . a hydra of many heads, . . . the court is constant only in inconstancy.’9 The household, in contrast to the court, provides – according to Malcolm Vale – ‘the material infrastructure, or underpinning’ of the court. It is, so to speak, ‘the backbone of the court’.10 This definition, on the one hand, is sufficiently broad to suit all three cases; on the other hand, we will see that for the German case in particular it provides the problem that there is no real distinction in terminology up to this day between what, in English, are called court and household. In German both institutions are called ‘Hof ’. Recently German historians have suggested a distinction between the ‘tägliche Hof ’ – the daily court – and the ‘feierliche Hof ’ or ‘Hoftag’ – the court or solemn court – to show that, of course, something like a household Hucker, Kaiser, 303; Stürner, Friedrich, 166–7; Cartellieri, Die Schlacht, 20 thinks that Frederick ‘really received the crown out of the hand of his ally, the king of France’. 7 See T. Vogtherr, ‘ “Weh dir, Land, dessen König ein Kind ist.” Minderjährige Könige um 1200 im europäischen Vergleich’, FMST 37 (2003), 291–314. 8 See M. Vale, The Princely Court: Medieval Courts and Culture in North-West Europe 1270–1380 (Oxford and New York, 2001), 295–300 found a ‘common culture’ and a ‘community of shared values, norms, and conventions’ especially in North-west Europe. ‘In terms of their organization, functions, and the assumptions and expectations of those who frequented them, there were striking similarities’, ibid., 297 9 Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium, ed. M.R. James (Oxford, 1914), 511. 10 Vale, Court, 15, 16.

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existed. Or they refer to Konrad of Megenberg’s mid-fourteenth-century description, which distinguished between a larger court (curia maior) and a smaller court (curia minor). Only a few modern historians have, as far as I can see, consequently used the term ‘Haushalt’11 to label this ‘skeletal underpinning [. . .] of the court’.12 Studies on this subject typically still do not differentiate clearly enough between court and household. Of course it is not always easy to draw the line clearly between the two.13 But it is also in part due to the nature and existence, or I should rather say non-existence, of sources concerning this topic for the period in question, as will be seen. Of course a material infrastructure of the court, a household, also existed in Germany. For the sake of my argument I will therefore just call it ‘household’, with the suggestion that the term ‘Haushalt’ be incorporated into the German terminology. In fact, Vale’s definition neglects the household’s administrative functions, not only for the court but also for the country. This aspect we also need to keep in mind when we talk about household in this context.14 The difference between houshold and court seems to be the observation that a household can exist without, or rather in the absence of, the ruler whereas the court cannot. As Ronald Asch among others has pointed out: ‘. . . a court only exists where a prince “holds court” ’.15 But what do they do if there is only a minor ruler, a ruler who is not capable of holding court himself? Do the members of the household take over during a minority? Courts have also been called ‘clearing houses’ for all kinds of patronage.16 It would be interesting to follow this line of interpretation for courts of minority governments, though logistically this would be problematic. Unfortunately I have not been able to do this with the neceassary thoroughness so far. In any case both court and household consist of people, and people are the object of this sudy. Some of them are members of the household, some of the court. Others are from outside these two inner circles around the king. I will look at the way these persons interacted in the kind of crisis situation

11

P. Moraw, ‘Organisation und Fuktion von Verwaltung im ausgehenden Mittelalter (ca. 1350–1500)’, §§ 1–4, in Deutsche Verwaltungsgeschichte, Bd. 1: Vom Spätmittelalter bis zum Ende des Reiches, ed. K.-A. Jeserich, H. Pohl, G.-C. v. Unruh (Stuttgart, 1983), 21–65 (at 32). J. Ehlers, ‘Der Hof Heinrichs des Löwen’, in Die Welfen und ihr Braunschweiger Hof im hohen Mittelalter, ed. B. Schneidmüller, Wolfenbütteler Mittelalter-Studien 7 (Wiesbaden, 1995), 43–59 (at 46) calls it ‘Kernhof’. Court, including the household, has been compared to an onion with its concentric layers, see Harm von Seggern, ‘Hof und Theorie. Gesprächskreis zur Theorie des Hofs veranstaltet vom Sonderforschungsbereich 537 “Institutionalität und Geschichtlichkeit”, Teilprojekt C/Prof. Dr. Gert Melville, und der Residenzenkommission Dresden, 15.–17. November 2001’, Mitteilungen der Residenzen-Kommission der Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen 12.1 (2002), 55–58 (at 55). 12 Vale, Princely Court, 16. 13 For the question of ‘Haushalt’ and ‘Hof’ see W. Paravicini, Die ritterlich-höfische Kultur des Mittelalters, Enzyklopädie deutscher Geschichte 32, 2nd edn (Munich, 1999), 65–71. 14 See R.G. Asch, ‘Introduction: Court and Household from the Fifteenth to the Seventeenth Centuries’, in Princes, Patronage, and the Nobility: The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age c. 1450–1650, ed. R.G. Asch and A.M. Birke, Studies of the German Historical Institute London (Oxford, 1991), 1–38 (at 12–13). 15 Ibid., 8. 16 Ibid., 19. Sharon Kettering describes this function of the court for the patronage of kin, see S. Kettering, ‘Patronage and Kinship in Early Modern France’, French Historical Studies 16.2 (1989), 408–35. The clearing-house function becomes even more clear if a third party, besides patron and client, in the patronage-process is considered: the broker. See S. Kettering, ‘Brokerage at the Court of Louis XIV’, The Historical Journal 36.1 (1993), 69–87.

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generated by the succession of a minor king and will try to sketch the hidden mechanisms of minority governments and how they worked in England, France and Germany. As already been mentioned, Henry III became king upon the death of his father John on the night of 27 to 28 October 1216. He was barely nine years old and the country he became king of was in a desolate state. Shortly before he died, King John had taken mearures to provide for the future of England and his dynasty. He had begged the pope to take Henry and the kingdom into his special protection – a precautionary measure which he had already taken in 1213, but found approriate to repeat as he felt death approaching.17 On his deathbed he also appointed thirteen executors to help defend and, if necessary, recover his son’s inheritance. Henry himself and the function of regent were handed over to William Marshal, who had a record of ‘unswerving fidelity’ to King John and his other lords.18 In the Patent Rolls he is given the title ‘rector noster et regni nostri’19 after he at first had called himself justiciar.20 Other sources call him ‘Willelmus Marescallus senior, comes de Penbrock, qui maximum habuit dominium tam in Anglia quam in Hibernia’21 or ‘Willelmus Mareschallus, regis custos et regni’.22 Hubert de Burgh as justiciar23 and Peter des Roches, bishop of Winchester, as the king’s personal guardian were to aid Marshal in governing the kingdom.24 There were also ‘officials’ responsible for the personal education of the boy: Philip d’Albini, for example, was Henry’s tutor in ‘knightly pursuits’.25 The nominal head of the government was the papal legate Guala. He was not involved in daily business, but no important decision was made without him. He also provided the government with an enhanced legitimacy.26 This ‘staff ’ of the minority government was aided by a well oiled administrative machine: the Chancery as an effective ‘secretarial organization’27 and, even more important, the Chamber28 and the Exchequer29 as the core of the financial administration 17 18

Carpenter, Minority, 13. Carpenter, Minority, 14–15. For William Marshall see S. Painter, William Marshal: Knight-Errant, Baron and Regent of England (1933; repr. Medieval Academy Reprints for Teaching 13, Toronto, 1997). 19 Patent Rolls, 3 onward; quoted from Carpenter, Minority, 22. 20 Carpenter, Minority, 21. 21 Ralph of Coggeshall, Chronicon Anglicarum, ed. J. Stevenson, RS 66 (1875; repr. Nendeln/Liechtenstein 1965), 1–208 (at 187). 22 Rogerus de Wendover, Liber Qui Dicitur Flores Historiarum ab Anno Domini MCLIV Annoque Henrici Anglorum Regis Secundi Primo, ed. H.G. Hewlet, RS 84.2 (1887; repr. Nendeln/Liechtenstein 1965), 165. Also CM, iii. 18. 23 The office of justiciar became important under Henry II, who was absent for long periods of time. Under his rule justiciars held courts in the king’s name and issued writs. At times they exercised ‘viceregal authority’. With the loss of Normandy in 1204 the justiciar lost a good deal of his importance but nevertheless his remained one of the most important administrative offices in England: S.B. Chrimes, An Introduction to the Administrative History of Medieval England (Oxford, 1952), 35, 37–8 and 43. 24 Carpenter, Minority, 53, and R.C. Stacey, Politics, Policy, and Finance under Henry III 1216–1245 (Oxford, 1987), 16. See also Chrimes, Introduction, 44. 25 Stacey, Politics, 13. 26 Carpenter, Minority, 52–3. 27 Chrimes, Introduction, 67. 28 The Chamber, under King John called the Wardrobe and later the Privy Purse, was the king’s personal financial bureau; Chrimes, Introduction, 65 and 79. 29 The Exchequer was not only responsible for the financial administration but also had far reaching judicial powers. This latter part of the Exchequer was later called the Bench and through the course of the thirteenth century developed into the Court of Common Pleas. The lower ranks of Exchequer officers had found their permanent residence in Westminster Hall before the end of the twelfth century; Chrimes, Introduction, 47–9. How the Exchequer developed out of the Treasury is still not quite clear: ibid., 29.

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through which the justiciar exercised his power.30 From 1199 and the introduction of the Charter Roll, there was comprehensive documentation of all government actions: a source of administrative stability no future king ever wanted or could afford to miss.31 Despite what looked like a good start the minority government was in dire straits. As a first step to stabilize it Henry was hurriedly crowned on 28 October – the morning after his father’s death – because a French expeditionary force under the command of the eldest son of the French king Philip II Augustus had landed and was cooperating with rebel barons who had been dissatisfied with King John, his rule and his treatment of their rights and liberties. Instead of the traditional Winchester, which was in the hands of oppositional forces, Gloucester was picked as the location for the coronation, and Peter des Roches officiated instead of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stephan Langton, who was in Rome at that time.32 All this took place under Guala’s supervison. Henry’s hasty accession to the throne was therefore a stop-gap measure to strengthen King John’s party and to keep more barons from defecting to the Angevins. The next step to stabilize the government was to issue a revised version of Magna Carta on 12 November 1216 in Bristol – ‘an offer to the rebels, an attempt to draw them into negotiation’33 and at the same time separate them from their French partner, with success: the Anglo-French coalition began to fall apart and the battles of Lincoln and Sandwich drove the French troops out of England by 1217.34 The consolidation, or rather the resurrection, of royal power could now commence without threats and interference from outside. William Marshal was the centre of the minority government until his death in 1219. To follow his biographer Sidney Painter, ‘whether or not he furnished the ideas, William issued the orders of the government’.35 He attested and authenticated the majority of royal letters with his private seal until Henry III received his own seal in November 1218 upon the decision of the great council, depicting him as a grown man. The council also selected the chancery clerk Ralph de Neville as the keeper of the seal. This was the most important of many small steps to Henry’s own, independent rule; it even seemed to be noteworthy to chroniclers like Matthew Paris and Ralph of Coggeshall.36 Of course Henry still did not rule independently. Instead, he spent a great deal of time apart from the office of the seal and from the regent, and although royal letters were authenticated by Henry’s seal they still needed to be attested by William Marshal and Peter des Roches. The events around the employment of Henry’s seal reveal another feature of the minority government: the council. Although in no way a defined body, the council played an important role in securing the consent of the magnates – consent the regent depended on more or less for an effective rule.37 Especially after King John’s rule, the English magnates were sensitive as far as their rights and liberties were concerned and demanded to have a say in the central government’s politics. Neither William Marshal nor any of his successors could therefore afford to ignore or alienate greater parts of the nobility; rebellion and even civil war resulting in the

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Chrimes, Introduction, 37. Chrimes, Introduction, 76–7. Vogtherr, Land, 299 Carpenter, Minority, 24. For Magna Carta see J.C. Holt, Magna Charta, 2nd edn (Cambridge, 1994). Carpenter, Minority, 35–44, and Joachim Ehlers, Die Kapetinger (Stuttgart, 2000), 154. Painter, Marshal, 274. CM, iii. 43, and Ralph of Coggeshall, Chronicon Anglicarum, 187. Carpenter, Minority, 54–5.

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overthrow of Henry’s government could have been the result. The reissues of Magna Carta in 1216 and 1217 demonstrated that Marshal had understood the message. The minority government entered a new phase with the death of William Marshal on 14 May 1219. The new titular head of the government by consent and provision of the great council became the bishop-elect of Norwich and papal legate, Pandulf, who had replaced Guala after his resignation in September 1218. Pandulf generally supervised government activities and was occasionally involved in day-to-day political decisions. He did not, though, enjoy a great deal of influence outside the inner court circle. Those who wanted favours from the king tended to seek out the attention of Hubert de Burgh, still justiciar, and Bishop Peter des Roches.38 The three of them formed a triumvirate controlling central government until 1221, with de Burgh clearly being the most powerful third of it. Outside this inner power circle only Ralph de Neville, the keeper of the royal seal, had remotely comparable influence. William Brewer, as baron of the exchequer, and Martin of Pattishal, as the senior professional justice, could also be named among the influential few.39 The ‘new’ government was almost the same as the old: it consisted of almost the same persons and it had to face almost the same problems as existed after King John’s death. They did not come any closer to the main goal, the resumption of the royal demesne and rights and the guarantee of a steady source of income for the royal household and the government.40 The ‘turning point in the political history of the minority’41 was probably marked by Henry’s second coronation on 17 May 1220, now at the right place and with the right coronator. This strengthened his legitimacy and authority and ensured military support against rebels, because the day after the event the barons swore not only to surrender their castles and wards but also to wage war against anyone who resisted the king.42 But it did not mean that Henry now ruled by himself. Neither did the triumvirate. It still had to rely on the consent and co-operation of the magnates. Hubert de Burgh, who managed to establish himself as the central figure of the government, issued letters authorized by the justiciar and the council. The king continued to learn the ‘royal trade’ step by step: when he was separated from the government he presided over his own court on several occasions and wrote letters of his own. Increasing sums were spent on his houshold and he was slowly recognized as a political force separate from Hubert, Peter and Pandulf. In June 1222 he dispensed the gifts of wine, timber and game for the first time – the traditional act of English kings by which they demonstrated their largesse. From November of the same year he no longer lived separately from the government and in December 1223 he attested his first letter.43 Although in April 1223 the pope had declared Henry of age, had given him full control of the government44 and by 1225 all members of the triumvirate except for de Burgh had been replaced by a group of household stewards, namely Ralph fitz Nicholas, Godfrey de Craucombe and William de Cantiloupe, two more years passed before Henry declared his majority and dismissed guardians and tutors. The

38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Stacey, Politics, 15–16. See also Painter, William, 277–9. Carpenter, Minority, 133. See also Stacey, Politics, 17. Carpenter, Minority, 184–6. Carpenter, Minority, 187. Carpenter, Minority, 187–91. Carpenter, Minority, 241–2, 290, 305 and 321. Stacey, Politics, 27. Nicholas Orme, Medieval Children (New Haven and London, 2003), 321–8 lists the ages at which English children usually reached adulthood in a legal sense.

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stewards, and especially Hubert de Burgh, were very influential even after Henry had been set in ‘full possession of regal powers’ which most importantly meant that he would be allowed to make grants in perpetuity45 – something that would have enabled him to gather his own followers around him by practising patronage. In fact the era of de Burgh’s influence did not end until he was driven from the royal court by his rival Peter des Roches. Only when Peter was removed in 1234 did things start to change for King Henry. At that point he could leave behind him the ‘legacy of political instability’46 which had been created by the politics and, not less, by the personnel of the early minority and move forward into the period of his personal rule. Real change in terms of personnel did not occur before his marriage in 1236.47 Until then he had always been under the influence of one or another of the former servants or supporters of his father. Louis IX was seven years younger than Henry III. He was born in 1214 and crowned King of France at the age of twelve on 29 November 1226, only three weeks after his father had died.48 On the way to Reims, where the ceremony was to take place, he had also been knighted, although in a strictly legal sense he was too young, below the usual age range of 18 to 20.49 Like King John, Louis VIII had designated his son as his successor on his deathbed. Although the Capetian dynasty seemed to be established as the royal dynasty a quick coronation was advisable, because risks lay in the future: the monarchy was at war with the Albigensians and the minor Louis IX had two uncles with aspirations to the throne.50 In this situation it is even more suprising that Louis VIII did not name someone to lead the government in the name of his little son. The king’s widow, Louis IX’s mother, Blanche of Castille finally took responsibility for the boy, and with him for the kingdom.51 No other ‘offices’ or people with specific tasks within a minority government are mentioned, but of course Blanche did not rule by herself. She was supported at various times by some of the most powerful secular and ecclesiastical magnates, including her husband’s half brother Philip Hurepel (who later, together with Pierre Mauclerc, duke of Brittany, became leader of the opposition), Hugh of Burgundy, Robert and Henry from the house of Dreux (the latter had just become archbishop of Reims), the Sires of Coucy, Bar and Blois, plus Joan of Flanders, Blanche of Champagne,52 as well as Walter Cornut, archbishop of Sens, Bishop Guérin of Senlis, the keeper of the royal seal until 1227, Count Ferrand of Flanders – after he had been set free53 – and Thibault IV of Champagne.54 There were also quite a few persons in the royal household who actively supported the queen and her government, namely

45 Carpenter, Minority, 389. This did not mean that Henry was declared to have reached full age. The feeling that he was still a minor continued until his twenty-first birthday on 1 October 1228. 46 Carpenter, Minority, 394. 47 Stacey, Politics, 40: ‘The years between 1234 and 1236 were a watershed which divided the politics of the minority from the problems and policies which would preoccupy Henry’s government in the decades to follow. The king’s personal rule has usually been dated from 1236, but characteristics of that rule first began to emerge in 1234, after the departure of the Poitevins.’ 48 Le Goff, Ludwig, 76. 49 Pernoud, Reine, 141. 50 Le Goff, Ludwig, 64–5 and 80. 51 For the question of whether Blanche was designated as a regent or not see Vogtherr, Land, 307. 52 Pernoud, Reine, 145. 53 Le Goff, Ludwig, 91. 54 Le Goff, Ludwig, 84.

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Bartholomew of Roye and John of Nesle.55 In contrast with the English minority government, Blanche’s rule seems to have been much less formally organized. These magnates, among others, constituted something like a council to which they sometimes chose to belong. When they saw their political objectives endangered they were just as likely to turn to fierce opposition, as Blanche was soon to experience. From the beginning, Blanche tried to gather the sympathies of the French magnates. She tried to secure the support of Philip Hurepel by giving him the castles of Montain and Lillebonne as well as the county of Saint-Pol. Additionally he received an annuity of 6,000 livres tournois. Count Ferrand of Flanders was set free after twelve years in prison. Blanche also tried to tie several powerful families to the throne by arranging future marriages with Louis’ brothers and sisters.56 Despite her efforts in patronage Blanche never really managed to establish reliable relations with the French aristocracy. The fact that she was a ‘foreigner’ – as Joinville described her in his famous biography of Louis the Saint57 – complicated this situation and only half a year after Louis’ coronation the barons were up against her in open revolt. The resentment against her seems to have been strengthened by her foreign roots, as is not unusual not only in patron-client relations.58 But the opposition’s aim was not to depose Louis. Instead they wanted to overthrow her regime. The baronial plan was to kidnap the child and replace Blanche as the ruler behind the child with themselves. This is the – so to speak – ‘classic’ approach amongst the possible ways of dealing with a situation such as this, if we think of what happened to the German Henry IV in 1062. In this case Blanche and Louis were saved by the intervention of the citizens of Paris, but shortly afterwards Blanche had to face a propaganda campaign arguing that her allegedly licentious lifesytle made her unworthy of governing the kingdom – the other ‘classic’ method of trying to get rid of a ruling woman.59 Nevertheless Blanche still had enough support as well as financial and military resources to prevail. She managed to stabilize her rule and by 1230/31 the time of crisis ended. Around that time Louis IX slowly began to show his own political profile. In 1230 he led military campaigns in Brittany and in the Champagne, he intervened in the strike of the university of Paris, and in the conflict with the bishop of Beauvais60 Louis was the main actor whereas Blanche appeared to be more on the sidelines of political action. She was asked by Pope Gregory IX to make her influence on Louis felt, but to no avail.61 Fortunately Blanche could rely on comparatively well-ordered finances, administration and offices which had been created in the course of the twelth century62, the

55 56 57

See Le Goff, Ludwig, 84 and 91, and Pernoud, Reine, 145. See Le Goff, Ludwig, 81–2, and Pernoud, Reine, 155–6. Jean de Joinville, Das Leben des heiligen Ludwig, 2.16, ed. E. Kock, trans. E. Mayser (Düsseldorf, 1969), 84 explicitly states that Blanche, coming from Spain, did not have any relatives or friends in the kingdom. See also Récrits d’un Ménsestrel de reims au Treizième Siècle, 32.336, ed. Natalis de Wailly (Paris, 1876), 174 ‘[. . .] et si enfant estoient petit, et elle esoit un seule famme d’estrange contrée’. 58 R. Pflücke, Beiträge zur Theorie von Patronage und Klientel. Eine vergleichende Soziologie der Gefolgschaft (Augsburg, 1972), 71: ‘Im Milieu ethnisch oder rassisch fremder Patronage kann das Ressentiment gegen die Patrone durch das Motiv ihrer Andersartigkeit verstärkt werden.’ 59 Le Goff, Ludwig, 84–6; Pernoud, Reine, 159. For references to Henry IV see I.S. Robinson, Henry IV of Germany, 1056–1106 (Cambridge, 1999), 31. 60 Le Goff, Ludwig, 92–100. 61 Le Goff, Ludwig, 98–101, especially 100. 62 H. Hattenhauer, Geschichte des deutschen Beamtentums, Handbuch des öffentlichen Dienstes 1 (Cologne, 1993), 37. For Marion F. Facinger, ‘A Study in Medieval Queenship: Capetian France

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centre of which were the three ‘departments’ of financial service, the chancery and the judicature (later called Parlement de Paris).63 Since the 1190s these institutions had become increasingly centralized in Paris, which developed more and more into a real capital.64 The royal demesne had been adminisered by prévôts well into the second half of the twelfth century, when the bailli was introduced to strengthen royal authority against an office that had become hereditary. From Philip II both, the prévôts and the baillis, had to come together in Paris three times a year.65 They were the backbone of the royal administration.66 That did not mean that Blanche, or later Louis, could rule without the participation, the consent, of the magnates, who still had an important say in government matters and could not be ignored if politics were to be implemented in the provinces.67 Louis’ marriage to Margaret of Provence in 1234 changed the balance of power within the central government in favour of the king’s greater independence. The first phase of Louis’ government, the ‘real’ minority government, ended with this date. Blanche inceasingly moved into the background of government politics. But this did not mean that she was completely removed from the sources of power. There is some suggestion that she, feeling the change coming, tried to postpone her son’s wedding as long as possible.68 The ‘shift from the rulership of the aging Blanche to that of her youthful son occurred almost imperceptibly’,69 but her influence on the government – even after Louis’ marriage and his twenty-first birthday – remained strong, so strong that Le Goff calls it a ‘co-rulership’.70 Only in 1244 was Louis capable of achieving ‘his own personal emancipation’ when he vowed to go on a crusade against Blanche’s will.71 This may be considered the beginning of the third phase of Louis’ rule, but again there are no indications that the practice of government changed in any major way. Blanche remained an important player in the political game. Louis actually made her regent when he left for the Holy Land, a position that she held until her death on 27 November 1252.72 Only then did Louis’ minority government really end. His mother’s death caused Louis to leave the Holy Land. But he was obviously not in a hurry, because it took him until April 1254 to return to France. In the meantime his minor son seems to have been nominal head of the regency government.73 Being only eight years old he needed a council to conduct the actual politial

987–1237’, Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History 5 (1968), 1–48 (at 31) the ‘initial steps leading to a bureaucratization of the government’ were taken under Philip I. 63 W.C. Jordan, Louis IX and the Challenge of the Crusade: A Study in Rulership (Princeton, 1979), 35 relates this situation only to the time of Louis’ reign but its origin is under Philip II, in particular that of the financial service and the later so-called Trésor de chartes; see Ehlers, Kapetinger, 131–2. 64 Ehlers, Kapetinger, 133. See also Annie Renoux, ‘Pfalzen und königliche Staatsbildung. 25 Jahre Pfalzenforschung in Frankreich’, in Orte der Herrschaft. Mittelalterliche Königspfalzen, ed. Caspar Ehlers (Göttingen, 2002), 55–83 (at 71–3). 65 See Hattenhauer, Geschichte, 39 and Ehlers, Kapetinger, 133. 66 Hattenhauer, Geschichte, 39–40. 67 Jordan, Louis, 46 and 47. 68 Le Goff, Ludwig, 108. 69 Jordan, Louis, 7. 70 Le Goff, Ludwig, 108. 71 Jordan, Louis, 7. According to Jordan this decision created ‘the most public tension between the king and his mother and played the most symbolic role’. 72 Le Goff, Ludwig, 171. Blanche did not rule completely by herself though. She was supported by a council and Louis himself still tried to deal with French matters, although not very effectively, from overseas. 73 Le Goff, Ludwig, 171.

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business. This council no longer was the old curia but a more institutionalized council, a real regency council, in which Louis’ brother also seems to have held important positions.74 The German case is even more difficult. Shortly after his birth in 1211, Henry (VII) was crowned King of Sicily. His father, Frederick II, was still very much alive, but left the Mediterranean island not long after Henry’s coronation. He was to become Rex Romanorum with the help of Pope Innocent III, who needed support against Emperor Otto IV. Since Henry was an infant, the Sicilian government was managed by his mother, Constance of Aragon. Charters were signed ‘una cum carrissimo filio suo Henrico rege Sicilie’.75 However, the plans of Frederick II, who had been elected Rex Romanorum in Germany in the meantime and wanted to be crowned emperor by the pope, required Henry and his mother to join him north of the Alps. Slowly he manoeuvered Henry into a position where he could be elected German king, while Frederick would be away in Italy, trying to deal with the problems German emperors usually had south of the Alps. In 1217 Henry was made Duke of Swabia76 and in 1219 he became Rector Burgundiae.77 Around this time he abandoned the title of King of Sicily, which he had not used since 1218. Finally, in 1220 Henry was elected German king. The proceedings around this election are very complex. Contrary to what Frederick told the pope, this was no accident: only a few days after the election of Henry (VII) in Frankfurt the ecclesiastical princes were granted a number of privileges in return for their votes.78 Again, only a few months later, Frederick left the country to go to Rome and left the still minor Henry in Germany. He could be quite sure he had found a trustee for Hohenstaufen interests and a successor to the royal and maybe even the imperial throne. A serious problem was the lack of administrative structures to carry the king safely through the minority. The court, as the most important means of royal government, had a number of functionaries. But the so-called Hofämter either had a ceremonial function, if we talk about offices held by princes,79 or – and these are the offices that could be named household offices – the structure and competences of the offices are still rather unclear to modern historians. A recent study by Jan Ulrich Keupp lists the functions and performance of the ‘Hofämter’ during the second half of the twelfth century, but the picture remains hazy.80 The administration and dispensation of justice also lacked a clear structure, although the king was still seen 74 75

Lewis, Succession, 179. See Regesta Imperii 5,2, nos 3836, 3844 and ibid. 5,4 Nachträge, nos 551–552A. See also Peter Thorau, König Heinrich (VII.), das Reich und die Territorien. Untersuchungen zur Phase der Minderjährigkeit und der “Regentschaften” Erzbischofs Engelberts I. von Köln und Herzog Ludwigs I. von Bayern (1211) 1220–1228, Jahrbücher des Deutschen Reichs unter Heinrich (VII.), Teil 1 (Berlin, 1998), 26–31. 76 For the problem of the exact date see Thorau, König, 36–7, who considers February 1217 the probable date of Henry’s enfeoffment with the Swabian duchy. 77 For this date also see Thorau, König, 48. 78 Regesta Imperii 5,2, no. 1114. This election had long been prepared by Frederick and therefore could not have been an accident: see G. Baaken, ‘Die Erhebung Heinrichs, Herzog von Schwaben, zum Rex Romanorum (1220/1222)’, in Aus Südwestdeutscher Geschichte. Festschrift für Hans-Martin Maurer. Dem Archivar und Historiker zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. W. Schmierer, G. Cordes, R. Kieß and G. Taddey (Stuttgart, 1994), 105–20. 79 See W. Rösener, ‘Hofämter’, Lexikon des Mittelalters 5, 68. 80 J.U. Keupp, Dienst und Verdienst. Die Ministerialen Friedrich Barbarossas und Heinrichs VI., Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 48 (Stuttgart, 2002), 348–60.

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as the highest source of justice and the epitome of a secular judge.81 The situation changed a little when Frederick II reinstalled the royal court of justice (Königsgericht) in 1235 recurring to the Sicilian example.82 The only administrative structure about which we can really tell something is the chancery,83 which was responsible for the production of charters. Occasionally we get some information about this or that household office or who held it, but we know hardly anything else about the household offices. Frederick found a solution to missing structures by installing Archbishop Engelbert of Cologne as a regent. He was the most powerful magnate in the northwestern part of the Empire and someone Frederick could trust. One might even call him Frederick’s personal confidant.84 It therefore seems quite logical that Engelbert, regent and tutor regis, was not a member of the household but rather of the court. His office of Imperial Chancelllor for Italy was more an honorary than administrative one. The so-called council of the minority government, consisting of a group of ministeriales, counts and bishops was anything but a defined body. It should rather be viewed as a group of magnates who spent time in the presence of the king and, of course, his regent. Maybe they spent a little more time there than other magnates but all in all they are not what we would call the ‘court’. Could the so-called ministeriales clearly be assigned to the court or should they rather be seen as members of the household? The answer is far from straightforward. Some of them certainly held what could be identified as a household office. For example Henry of Rothenburg is frequently called ‘Reichsküchenmeister’ (master of the imperial kitchen).85 On the other hand there are so many chamberlains or marshalls in Henry (VII)’s entourage that at least some of them must have held an honorary or hereditary title. That would make them court visitors again and not household members. Influence on the politics of central government may have been possible for a few of them, certainly not for the group in general.86 It therefore seems appropriate, and certainly very interesting, to differentiate between ministeriales of different social importance – a field demanding more research. It also seems necessary to define ‘the politics of central government’ and whether it was the first time that ministeriales had real influence on them, as Vogtherr states.87 My impression is that neither was it the first time nor did they have real influence.

81

F. Battenberg, Herrschaft und Verfahren. Politische Prozesse im mittelalterlichen Römisch-Deutschen Reich (Darmstadt, 1995), 18. 82 Battenberg, Herrschaft, 21. 83 For the structure of the chancery under Henry VI see Peter Csendes, Die Kanzlei Kaiser Heinrichs VI., Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Philosophisch-Historische Klasse Denkschriften 151 (Vienna, 1981), 27–40. This structure did not change significantly under Frederick and Henry (VII) except that there were two separate chanceries – a royal and an imperial – with different scribes: see P. Zinsmaier‚ ‘Studien zu den Urkunden Heinrichs (VII.) und Konrads IV.’, Zeitschrift für die Geschichtes des Oberrheins n.s. 61 (1952), 445–565 (at 445). The chancery grew out of the ‘Hofkapelle’ whose functions and significance had undergone a serious change after Henry III; see Csendes, Kanzlei, 27. The ‘Hofkapelle’ had originally constituted the inner administrative circle of the Carolingian kings: see J. Fleckenstein, Die Hofkapelle der deutschen Könige, 1. Teil: Grundlegung. Die Karolingische Hofkapelle, Schriften der MGH 16.1 (Stuttgart, 1959), 109–22. 84 C. Hillen, ‘Engelbert, Erzbischof von Köln, als Gubernator für Heinrich (VII.)’, Geschichte in Köln 46 (1999), 35–49. 85 C. Hillen, Curia Regis. Untersuchungen zur Hofstruktur Heinrichs (VII.) 1220–1235 nach den Zeugen seiner Urkunden (Frankfurt a. M., Berlin, Bern, New York, Paris and Vienna, 1999), 286. 86 Keupp, Dienst, 315–33 and 469 could show for the twelfth century that there was no ‘consistently acting powergroup’ (‘einheitlich agierende Machtformation’, 315). 87 Vogtherr, Land, 297.

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There are indications that under Frederick Barbarossa ministeriales had already begun to occupy important positions and had become an important part of central government.88 That means they certainly held important positions but their influence was still very regional89 or limited to the ‘bureaucracy’ at court. The political centre was the minor king and his regent Engelbert. At first the new government functioned smoothly, but Henry (VII) obviously lacked legitimacy. In addition to the election, he was formally crowned king in 122290 – an interesting parallel with Henry III, who needed a second coronation in order to enhance his legitimay. In 1225 Engelbert was murdered for more or less private reasons by relatives, and Duke Louis of Bavaria took over the responsibilities of regent in 1226, although Henry could have been old enough to rule by himself. Under Louis’ regency the government also worked with no apparent problems during the first years. Then in 1228 the now barely eighteen-year-old Henry fell out with Louis, who left the court suddenly around Christmas 1228. The reasons for the quarrels remain unclear, but a good guess would be Henry’s increasing will to rule by himself. In fact this is the point where Henry’s personal rule started. As in the two other cases presented earlier, this was not determined by any rules or legal consideration about ages of majority; it was purely political. Whether or not Frederick liked his son’s behaviour, or whether it coincided with his own political ideas and plans for a stable government in Germany, we will never know. In any case, he did not intervene. It is interesting to observe that the personnel around the king, or the court, began to shrink from that day until almost only members of what could be called the household appear in Henry’s entourage. The magnates and princes preferred to stay away from him. Instead they took care of their own business, which most likely meant their own territory, rather than expending energy on the affairs of the kingdom. Henry’s court was stripped naked of princes and magnates,91 which meant that certain ministeriales gained relative importance, but their influence on Henry cannot be measured. It is quite clear, though, that with the lack of more powerful magnates Henry’s influence on politics in the Holy Roman Emipre waned, and at the same time difficulties with the princes began to emerge. Henry’s radius of action was more and more limited to what could be called the Hohenstaufen homelands.

88 89 90

Keupp, Dienst, 333–48 and 478. Hillen, Curia, 158–62. For the relevance of the coronation see Heinrich Mitteis, Die deutsche Königswahl. Ihre Rechtsgrundlagen bis zur Goldenen Bulle, 2nd edn (1944; repr. Darmstadt, 1987), 48, who states that ‘the whole installation of the ruler has to be viewed as a single act, which is realised in different steps,’ in which ‘those act that we today would characterise as an election can take place after the coronation’ (54). Brühl considers the coronation to be the ‘most important symbolic act during accession to the throne of a new king’ next to the unction, see C. Brühl, ‘Krönung’, in Handwörterbuch der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte, 2 (Berlin, 1978), 1235–6 (at 1235). The coronation was in any case necessary for legitimate rule. For the coronation of the Roman King see Percy Ernst Schramm, ‘Die Krönung in Deutschland bis zum Beginn des salischen Hauses’, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte – Kanonistische Abteilung 55 (1935), 184–332. The importance of the coronation can be seen in Henry (VII)’s case as well, because he was only crowned when, during a quarrel about the investiture of Bishop Konrad of Hildesheim, it became clear that peace and stability in Germany were in danger. The coronation apparently strengthened his authority: see J. Lothmann, Erzbischof Engelbert I von Köln (1216–1225): Graf von Berg, Erzbischof und Herzog, Reichsverweser (Cologne, 1993), 304. For a more detailed description of the quarrels surrounding the bishop of Hildesheim see I. Crusius, ‘Bischof Konrad II. von Hildesheim: Herkunft und Wahl’, in Institutionen, Kultur und Gesellschaft im Mittelalter. Festschrift für Josef Fleckenstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. L. Fenske, W. Rösener and T. Zotz (Sigmaringen, 1964), 431–68. 91 See Hillen, Curia, 224–6.

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By 1232 the number of problems between Henry and the magnates must have reached critical mass. In that year, his father ordered him to come to Italy to meet him – their first meeting in about twelve years. Henry had to swear an oath of loyalty and was sent back to Germany. If he broke the oath, German princes would no longer owe him fidelity. It was not that easy, however, to settle quarrels between the two members of the Hohenstaufen house. Clearly Frederick II still exercised strong influence over politics in Germany and Henry did anything but rule by himself. He was tied up in a network of his father’s supporters and confidants who did not hesitate to travel to Italy to talk to the Emperor himself. This happened even more frequently under Henry’s personal rule. It is quite clear that this was a purpose-made construction for the needs of Frederick II. It was supposed to make his influence felt over the long distance. He did not want his son to act independently, as events in 1234 and 1235 made clear when, two years after he had sworn not to act against his father’s will, Henry wrote several letters to cities of the Lombard League with the obvious intention of winning them as allies against his father.92 In October 1234 he had already tried unsuccessfully to explain his behaviour and his politics to Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim.93 The final breach with his father seemed inevitable. In spring 1235 Frederick came back to Germany to crush Henry’s ‘uprising’, deposed him, threw him into prison and had his brother elected king. Having learned from Henry’s case, he made sure that Conrad IV was only elected but not crowned. The princes and magnates, in other words the persons who constitute the court, had not taken a great deal of interest in Henry when he began his personal rule. Henry did not really have the chance to create his own network of supporters because everybody kept turning to the Emperor. He was the ultimate patron, he ruled the court. Henry’s household was too weak and staffed with the wrong people for an effective government. What features of significance can be extracted from these three different cases? To begin by returning to the English example, on the one hand William Marshal, Hubert de Burgh, Peter des Roches, the papal legates and others managed quite successfully to manoeuvre the ship of the dynasty’s rule through the heavy waters of Henry’s minority. On the other hand they laid the foundations for the troubles Henry was to have during his personal rule. To be more precise, they themselves were the trouble. They were King John’s supporters; in other words, they were his clients. They were clients suddenly become patrons. They did not give Henry the chance to gather around himself his own group of loyal magnates. Thus Henry had serious problems learning how to deal with ‘the court’, how to reach consent. The importance of patronage is even more evident in the French case. Here, the king’s mother and a group of supporters, the constitution of which varied depending on the political situation, managed to rule the country and save the throne for Louis, even against military opposition. Fortunately this opposition was not strong enough and additional support for Blanche came from a relatively well-ordered administration and financial service. In this case no one from outside moved into the inner power circle. The royal family successfully defended its position of ‘chief patron’ against outside attempts to rearrange the balance of power in the centre. Blanche’s rule was not only successful in terms of trying to fend off opposition. She also

92 93

Regesta Imperii 5,2, nos 4358–60. Regesta Imperii 5,2, no. 4348.

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managed to teach her son the business of ruling. She was active in politics until her death so Louis could observe closely how his mother handled things, how she dealt with the magnates. Nevertheless she needed advice and support too. On the whole she relied on the same ‘councillors’ who had already served Philip II and Louis VIII.94 Contrary to the views of Vogtherr, I can see no denial of continuity,95 at least no conscious denial. Of course this does not mean that magnates who supported her late husband did not turn against her during her reign. In any case, her retirement from the political stage was slow and gave Louis the chance to find his own way of ruling and talking to the magnates, and of finding consent. She was also wise enough to allow him to do so. Maybe that was how Louis got the chance to become acquainted and familiar with the royal ‘habitus’ – ‘habitus’ in Bourdieu’s sense of the word.96 This was a chance the other two minor kings of this study did not have. When Blanche died the state of the kingdom was stable enough to allow Louis to stay in the Holy Land. The advancement of the institution of the ‘royal council’ plus the presence of members of the royal family made this possible.97 This clearly indicates how strongly the French kingdom emerged from Louis minority. Frederick II created a crisis himself by leaving Germany with a minor king. The power-vacuum was filled with regents he could trust, with faithful clients. As in England, members of the royal court who had been clients now moved into the centre of central government and became patrons themselves. Their position differed from the English construction insofar as they still had a superior, the Emperor. None of the household officials played an important part in ‘high-politics’. Even under the special conditions of a minority government they did not have an advantage over ‘regular’ court-members. In England at least some of them had such an advantage, probably because they were closer to the minor king than the others, whereas in France the queen defended her position as chief patron. Members of neither the court nor the household moved into the centre. In all three countries, participation of the magnates in political matters thus remained restricted to a core group of persons – again contrary to Vogtherr’s analysis, who states that it became restricted.98 These core groups differed, but only to a certain degree, from the influential groups that dominated the courts under the rule of the father. The main difference seems to have been their position at court. Consent with a wider circle of magnates still had to be sought: it was communicated and transmitted through the court. It is quite interesting to observe that in all three cases the centre remaind – minor or not – the king. Patronage can only function – or function best – if there are offices with a certain degree of power, power to grant favours. The best established ‘office’ – so to speak – at the three courts in question here – and I would assume at all other medieval courts – was the king himself. If members of the court, as in England and Germany, moved into positions that made patronage possible (as, for instance, in the cases of William Marshal and Engelbert of Cologne), they might have been able to act as power brokers. There are hints that

94 95 96

Ehlers, Kapetinger, 149. Vogtherr, Land, 308. At least this was an important, if unconscious, element of the education of young nobles at the Habsburg court of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. See K.J. MacHardy, War, Religion and Court Patronage in Habsburg Austria: The Social and Cultural Dimensions of Political Interaction, 1521–1622 (Houndsmills, New York, 2003), 165–75. See also P. Bourdieu, Sozialer Sinn. Kritik der theoretischen Vernunft (Frankfurt, 1993), 97–121. 97 Lewis, Royal Succession, 84: ‘[. . .], the entire family became associated with the kingdom’. 98 Vogtherr, Land, 313.

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Engelbert actually did. But for him, as well as for Henry (VII) later on, the last authority was still the emperor. The household – or so it seems – only played a role, although a small one, in England, where the institutionalization of offices and literacy was the furthest advanced. If there is a causal connection between these phemomena, further research into this matter is needed to reveal it.

Scottish Queenship in the Thirteenth Century*

Jessica Nelson Medieval queenship as an area for study has enjoyed dynamic growth in the last generation. The pioneering work of Pauline Stafford and Jinty Nelson on early medieval queens has shown the tremendous value of looking at queens and queenship through the lens of gender, emphasising the effects of the female lifecycle on the status and opportunities of the queen, and the ways in which the existing structures of queenship constrained the activities of individual kings’ wives.1 John Parsons has applied a similar approach to post-Conquest queens in England, paying special attention to the queen’s place in the kinship network and the means through which royal women might achieve and express some form of self-realisation and through that, group identity.2 The work of Margaret Howell has taken a slightly different approach, certainly not neglecting gender, but stressing the need to use theoretical frameworks flexibly and pay due attention to the particular.3 Their work, and the work of many other scholars in the same field, has made the history of queens and queenship on either side of the Norman Conquest a lively and fruitful area of debate. Such scholarship has shown the thirteenth century to be a time of exciting developments in western European queenship. Henry III’s marriage to Eleanor of Scottish Queenship

* I would like to thank Professor David Carpenter for his comments on earlier drafts of this paper, and both him and Professor Jinty Nelson for their ongoing help and support. Thanks also to the participants of TCE 11 for their feedback and to the editors of this volume for their patience. My doctoral research, of which this forms a part, has been made possible through funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council. 1 In a tremendous body of work see esp. P. Stafford, ‘The King’s Wife in Wessex, 800–1066’, Past and Present 91 (1981), 3–27; ‘The Portrayal of Royal Women in England, mid-Tenth to mid-Twelfth Centuries’, in Medieval Queenship, ed. J.C. Parsons (New York, 1993), 143–67; Queen Emma and Queen Edith (Oxford, 1997); Queens, Concubines and Dowagers: the King’s Wife in the Early Middle Ages, 2nd edn (London, 1998); ‘Powerful Women in the Middle Ages: Queens and Abbesses’, in The Medieval World, ed. P. Linehan and J.L. Nelson (London, 2001), 398–415; J.L. Nelson, ‘Queens as Jezebels: The Careers of Brunhild and Balthild in Merovingian History’, in Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker (Oxford, 1978), 31–77; ‘Women at the Court of Charlemagne: A Case of Monstrous Regiment?’, in Medieval Queenship, ed. J.C. Parsons (New York, 1993), 43–61; ‘Early Medieval Rites of Queen-making and the Shaping of Medieval Queenship’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. A. Duggan (Woodbridge, 1997), 301–16. 2 Again, the body of work is extensive. See esp. J.C. Parsons, ‘Mothers, Daughters, Marriage, Power: Some Plantagenet Evidence, 1150–1500’, in Medieval Queenship, ed. J.C. Parsons, 63–78; J.C. Parsons, Eleanor of Castile (Basingstoke, 1995); ‘ “Never was a body buried in England with such solemnity and honour”: The Burials and Posthumous Commemorations of English Queens to 1500’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. Duggan, 317–37; ‘Damned if she didn’t and damned when she did: Bodies, Babies, and Bastards in the Lives of Two Queens of France’, in Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lord and Lady, ed. J.C. Parsons and B. Wheeler (New York, 2002), 265–99. 3 M. Howell, ‘The Resources of Eleanor of Provence as Queen Consort’, EHR cii (1987), 372–93; Eleanor of Provence (Oxford, 1998); ‘Royal Women of England and France in the Mid-Thirteenth Century: A Gendered Perspective’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III (1216–1272), ed. B. Weiler and I. Rowlands (Aldershot, 2002), 163–182.

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Provence in January 1236 brought a new queen consort to court after a gap of two decades. Howell’s work on Eleanor, who was queen consort for over thirty years, reveals how she skilfully played the various roles of wife, mother, counsellor, regent, patron, leader of faction, and later, queen mother.4 Edward I’s wife, Eleanor of Castile, was not blessed with Eleanor of Provence’s longevity, but she too exercised considerable influence over her husband, and Parsons has shown how her exploitation and extension of the bases of the queen’s power marked a new phase in English queenship.5 In France, Eleanor’s sister Marguerite married Louis IX in 1236, but her political activity was more limited and she was not perhaps ever fully able to escape the long shadow of the queen mother, Blanche of Castile, who acted as regent during both Louis’ minority and his time on Crusade.6 But where are the queens of Scotland in all this? With the notable exception of St Margaret, the subject of some excellent work,7 the queens of Scotland before 1286 have not so far been subject to much scholarship. I hope to use this paper to begin to remedy this, at least with regard to the thirteenth century. Following some of the theoretical groundwork laid by the scholars mentioned above, I aim to look at the lives of the five thirteenth-century Scottish queens consort, considering their political roles (in the widest sense) and their contemporary reputations, and asking how these were conditioned by their gender and affected by their positions within their marital and natal families. Source material for thirteenth-century Scotland seems scarce when compared to England, particular in the field of secular government, but I believe that there is enough evidence to enable some initial conclusions to be drawn, highlighting the particular in Scotland, and illustrating areas of similarity and difference between Scottish and English concepts and structures of queenship. Considerations of space prevent me from dealing here with the material resources of the queen or the development of her household, although these are equally important areas and ones that I hope to deal with elsewhere. The first queen of thirteenth-century Scotland was Ermengarde, the wife of William the Lion, who became queen consort at her marriage in 1186, and remained so until her husband’s death in 1214. Thereafter, between 1221 and 1285 there were four queens of Scotland, being the first and second wives of two kings, Alexander II and his son, Alexander III. The first wives of each king were English princesses, Joan, daughter of King John, and Margaret, daughter of Henry III. The second wives were French noblewomen, Marie, daughter of Engelrann III, seigneur of Coucy, and Yolande, daughter of Robert IV, count of Dreux. From the beginning of the century until 1285, the longest length of time that Scotland was without a queen consort was ten years, between the death of Alexander III’s first wife, Margaret, in 1275, and his second marriage to Yolande in 1285. Even during this time, there was still a queen, the mater regis, Marie de Coucy. 4 5 6

Howell, Eleanor of Provence [hereafter Howell]. Parsons, Eleanor of Castile. Miriam Shadis, ‘Blanche of Castile and Facinger’s “Medieval Queenship”: Reassessing the Argument’, in Capetian Women, ed. K. Nolan (New York and Basingstoke, 2003) 137–61; Afrodesia E. McCannon, ‘Two Capetian Queens as the Foreground for an Aristocrat’s Anxiety in the Vie de Saint Louis’, in ibid., 163–76 7 D. Baker, ‘A Nursery of Saints: St Margaret of Scotland Revisited’, in Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker (Oxford, 1978), 119–41; L. Huneycutt, ‘The Idea of a Perfect Princess: The Life of St Margaret in the Reign of Matilda II’, Anglo-Norman Studies xii (1990), 81–99; also her Matilda of Scotland: A Study in Medieval Queenship (Woodbridge, 2003), esp.10–16; V. Wall, ‘Queen Margaret of Scotland (1070– 1093): Burying the Past, Enshrining the Future’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. Duggan, 27–38.

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Such a brief overview suggests that the position of queen was well established in thirteenth-century Scotland, expected if not necessary. But it also risks obscuring how far and how fast it had developed from queenship in Scotland in the centuries before. The first Margaret of Scotland (St Margaret), wife of Malcolm III, is called ‘queen’ in an abundance of contemporary and near-contemporary sources,8 the first king’s wife for whom this is the case, although the scarcity of contemporary sources for pre-1067 Scotland means that evidence for previous use of the title may have been lost.9 Margaret was an Anglo-Saxon princess, the granddaughter of Edmund Ironside, and after the Norman Conquest fled with her family and other nobles to the Scottish court. Stafford has shown the importance of a woman’s designation as queen in pre-Conquest England, and if the title was not already in use in Scotland, it is very likely that Margaret’s family and its advisors would have insisted upon its accordance to Margaret as a condition of the marriage,10 thus providing her, and in turn them, with greater security in Scotland. It is possible then, that the concept of a queen of Scotland was a foreign imposition, imposed in large part to serve the needs of Margaret’s kinsfolk. From Margaret onwards there is abundant evidence of the title of queen being routinely accorded to kings’ wives, during both marriage and widowhood. Yet there is no evidence that these queens undertook any inauguration ceremony. The kings of Scots were raised to the kingship in a traditional ceremony at Scone, but it seems not to have had any queenly equivalent.11 Elsewhere in Europe, such rituals were deemed central to queen-making, indicating that the king’s wife now had a new, public, status as queen, with a unique relationship to the king and the kingdom. The ritual, and the changes that it underwent, show that there was a vocabulary to articulate some of the expectations and functions of the queen, and further that there had been attempts to interpret and to shape them.12 The apparent absence of such a rite in Scotland thus eliminated an opportunity to articulate the meaning and purpose of queenship; it was considered enough that the ritual of marriage made her king’s wife, and queen almost by default.13 Though there was certainly no ambiguity in these women’s status as queens, the lack of an inauguration ritual may have contributed to an ambiguity in their roles. Their queenships would be shaped by the examples of other queens, both in Scotland and elsewhere, and by the needs and circumstances of their families and kingdom, unaffected by formal rites. Much scholarship – medieval and modern – has been devoted to the first queen 8

E.g. Durham Liber Vitae (London, British Library, MS Domitian A.VII), fols 15v, 52v; The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. M. Chibnall, 6 vols (Oxford, 1969–80) [hereafter OV], iv. 270–1; v. 298–9. 9 Notably Gruoch, wife of Macbeth (1040–57), is called regina in a notitia of a grant that survives in a much later register; Liber Cartarum Prioratus Sancti Andree, ed. T. Thomas (Edinburgh, 1841), 114; Early Scottish Charters, ed. A. Lawrie (Glasgow, 1905), 5–6, 231–3. 10 Stafford, ‘The King’s Wife in Wessex’, 10–12, 18–21. 11 A.A.M. Duncan, The Kingship of the Scots, 842–1292 (Edinburgh, 2002) [hereafter Duncan], 127–50; J. Bannerman, ‘The King’s Poet and the Inauguration of Alexander III’, Scottish Historical Review [hereafter SHR] lxviii (1989), 120–49. 12 In a wealth of important scholarship see in particular Stafford, Queen Emma, 165–8, 174–8; J.L. Nelson, ‘Early Medieval Rites of Queen-making and the Shaping of Medieval Queenship’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. Duggan, 301–15; J.L. Nelson, ‘The Second English Ordo’, in Politics and Rituals in Early Medieval Europe (London, 1986), 361–74; J.C. Parsons, ‘Ritual and Symbol in English Medieval Queenship to 1500’, in Women and Sovereignty, ed. L.O. Fradenburg (Edinburgh, 1992), 60–77. 13 There are possible parallels with practice in much of early western medieval Europe: Stafford, Queens, Concubines and Dowagers, 127–34.

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Margaret.14 She was clearly an active political player, particularly in religious affairs. Margaret did not, however, set a precedent for future generations of queens in Scotland, nor make the Scottish political elite deem the position of queen necessary. After her death in 1093 there was no queen consort until around 1114, when Malcolm III’s and Margaret’s son, Alexander I, married Sybilla, an illegitimate daughter of Henry I.15 They had no children, and Alexander was succeeded by his younger brother, Earl David. Henry I had already given David the heiress Matilda de Senlis in marriage, with her patrimony, the honour of Huntingdon.16 There is little evidence that either of these women had any significant political role, although Matilda had enjoyed a high profile in England as countess. She predeceased David, dying perhaps as early as 1130,17 and he did not marry again. David’s grandson and heir, Malcolm IV, did not marry, and Malcolm’s successor, his brother William, remained unmarried for the first twenty years of his reign. This does not suggest any actual antipathy to the idea of a queen consort, or to the possibility of powerful royal women – indeed, the mother of Malcolm IV and William, Ada de Warenne, was influential during the reign of her eldest son.18 Nonetheless, Scotland was without a queen from c. 1130 until 1186 – over half a century later. The structures of Scottish political life could clearly continue to operate in a way that would have been unthinkable without a king. Whatever status and roles the queen might have, whatever purposes she might serve, she existed only as an adjunct to her husband. The same was true in England, which was without an active queen consort from the time of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s departure for France in the late 1160s until Henry III’s marriage in 1236.19 But no king since William Rufus had actually remained unmarried, or indeed delayed marriage for twenty years of his adult reign. The differences in succession practices may be a factor. The English throne had for centuries followed a pattern of linear succession, and while this was by no means strict primogeniture (and had not prevented numerous succession disputes) it was generally accepted, and expected, that a king’s immediate successor would be his son. In Scotland, between the mid-ninth and the mid-eleventh centuries, the kingship alternated between two branches of the descendants of Kenneth MacAlpine, swapping between increasingly distant cousins.20 The succession in 1034 of Duncan I, the previous king’s grandson, marked a change, but by the end of the twelfth century linear succession was far from the norm.21 When David I was succeeded by his

14

The principal source for her life is the Vita Sanctae Margaretae by her confessor, Turgot, prior of Durham and later bishop of St Andrews, discussed and translated as an appendix to Huneycutt, Matilda of Scotland, 161–78. 15 OV, iv. 274–5; William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, ed. and trans. R.A.B. Mynors, R.M. Thomson and M. Winterbottom, 2 vols (Oxford, 1998–99) [hereafter GRA], i. 724–5. 16 GRA, i. 727–7; J.A. Green, ‘David I and Henry I’, SHR lxxv (1996), 1–19, esp. 6. 17 Johannis de Fordun Chronica Gentis Scotorum, i, ed. W.F. Skene (Edinburgh, 1871) [hereafter Fordun], 233. 18 V. Chandler, ‘Ada de Warenne, Queen Mother of Scotland’, SHR lx (1981), 119–39. 19 Although from the late 1160s until her imprisonment after the 1173–4 rebellion Eleanor had a significant role in the administration of Aquitaine; M. Hivergneaux, ‘Queen Eleanor and Aquitaine, 1137– 1189’, in Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lord and Lady, ed. Wheeler and Parsons, 55–76. Richard I’s wife, Berengaria of Navarre, never set foot in England, while John deliberately sidelined Isabelle of Angoulême: J. Gillingham, ‘Richard I and Berengaria of Navarre’, BIHR liii (1980), 157–73; N. Vincent, ‘Isabella of Angoulême: John’s Jezebel’, in King John: New Interpretations, ed. S.D. Church (Woodbridge, 1999), 165–219. 20 Duncan, 16–22, Table A, p. 345. As Duncan explains, these successions did not always take place without violence. 21 Duncan I succeeded his maternal grandfather, Malcolm II, signalling the beginning of attempts by

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grandson, Malcolm IV, having been predeceased by his son, it was the first instance of undisputed linear succession for over a century. Malcolm IV’s failure to marry cannot be said with confidence to be due to a positive commitment to fraternal succession, but it is surely the case that William’s existence put him under less pressure to provide an heir of his own body.22 The same can be said for the twenty unmarried years of William’s reign, during which time the heir presumptive was his younger brother, David.23 Perhaps a more important factor was the difficulty of finding a suitable candidate. The status of his wife was clearly a part of any king’s self-image. Kings in England had used marriage into foreign royal and noble houses as a means to enhance their own status and form alliances as early as 856, with the marriage of Æthelwulf of Wessex (and later his son, Æthelbald) to Judith, daughter of Charles the Bald.24 The last English king to take a wife from the ranks of his own aristocracy was Edward the Confessor when he married Edith in 1045, a choice which reflected the power of Edith’s natal family.25 The royal self-image of the kings of Scots seems to have been developing during the twelfth century: Professor Duncan has argued that Alexander I unsuccessfully attempted to secure metropolitan status for St Andrews, so that kings of Scots could receive the rites of kingship from an archbishop,26 and William the Lion certainly adopted the style Dei Gratia in his charters soon after Henry II.27 There can be little doubt that as the kings of Scots developed an increasing sense of their own royal dignity they must have wanted this to be enhanced and bolstered through their marriage. But the image of Scotland held elsewhere was not developing at the same pace, and this disparity may have hindered the attempts of its kings to marry. John Gillingham has shown how the image of Celts as barbarians became prevalent in the Anglo-Norman world in the twelfth century.28 Their king was not necessarily immune from this: a letter dated 1160 from Constance, the sister of the duke of Brittany, to Louis VII of France contains the plaintiff cry ‘I would prefer to be married to any one of your humble men, than to become queen of Scotland’,29 which seems to imply that a match with Malcolm IV had been proposed. In 1184 William the Lion asked Henry II for the hand of Matilda of Saxony, Henry’s own legitimate granddaughter. The pope refused to allow the marriage because it was within the prohibited degrees,30 but given the frequent manipulation of these rules, it can be assumed that it was Henry himself who objected. At this time Henry was William’s

this line of descent to monopolize the kingship: Duncan, 22, 27–49 (for the eleventh century), 53–81 (for 1093–1165). 22 Near-contemporary evidence claims that Malcolm had a commitment to virginity; more recently ill-health has been blamed for his failure to marry: Duncan, 73–5. I speculate further below. 23 K.J. Stringer, Earl David of Huntingdon (Edinburgh, 1985), 12, 42–3. 24 P. Stafford, ‘Charles the Bald, Judith and England’, in Charles the Bald, Court and Kingdom, ed. M.T. Gibson and J.L. Nelson, 2nd edn (Aldershot, 1990), 139–53. 25 Stafford, Queen Emma, 259–61. 26 Duncan, 84–9. 27 D. Broun, ‘The Absence of Regnal Years from the Dating Clause of Charters of Kings of Scots’, Anglo-Norman Studies xxv (2002), 47–63. 28 J. Gillingham, ‘The Beginnings of English Imperialism’, in The English in the Twelfth Century (Woodbridge, 2000), 3–18. 29 ‘. . . mallem alcui tuorum etiam humili me conjungi, quam Scotiae Reginam fieri’, Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. L. Delisle, xvi, new edn (Paris, 1878), lxxxi, 23. 30 Roger of Howden, Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols (RS 49, 1867), i. 313–14, 322 [hereafter Howden, Gesta].

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liege lord,31 and he had nothing to gain from marrying his granddaughter off to his ‘house-king’. Instead, Henry II proposed a marriage to Ermengarde de Beaumont, the daughter of the viscount of Maine. William agreed rather reluctantly, clearly having planned for a more prestigious bride.32 The venue for the wedding, which took place in 1186, was Henry II’s chapel at Woodstock, further emphasizing William’s inferior status vis-à-vis Henry.33 Indeed, William might have considered the most immediate benefit of the wedding to be not his wife but the restoration of Edinburgh castle, which was released from English control by Henry II on condition that William grant it to Ermengarde in dower.34 Ermengarde was probably in her early teens, marrying a much older and well-established king, and moving to a kingdom that had been without a queen consort for over half a century. She had not even been the king’s first choice. Hardly an auspicious start. Her situation was a stark contrast to Henry II’s own queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, a great heiress and former queen of France, who had been a marital coup for her husband, a teenage duke at the time of their marriage, and who later enjoyed an active role in English government.35 But Ermengarde’s situation has interesting comparisons with that of Eleanor of Provence, who married Henry III in 1236. There had not been a politically active queen consort in England since Eleanor of Aquitaine’s departure for France in the late 1160s, and Henry III, having succeeded as a minor, was king for twenty years before he married, during which time there were several failed marriage projects. He was twenty-eight at the time of the marriage, his new queen was twelve.36 Yet Eleanor grew up to be a powerful political player, proving that a less than promising start need not be a permanent handicap. She took advantage of existing structures and traditions of queenship, and the exceptional privileges that these gave her; but as Howell has shown, power was not automatic, and Eleanor’s achievements were dependent on her own acumen, and on her good relationship with her husband.37 While Ermengarde was no Eleanor of Provence, there are similarities. Despite the limited source material, there are glimpses of Ermengarde as a woman who through her roles as queen, wife and mother was able to exercise significant authority, and whose career was of lasting importance to the development of queenship in Scotland. William’s marriage appears to signal a new commitment to linear succession, superseding the claim of his younger brother, Earl David.38 In 1195 William concocted a plan to secure the succession of his eldest daughter Margaret, but it was unpopular in Scotland and he abandoned it.39 The issue of female succession did not 31

William had supported the rebellion of the Young King in 1173–4, but was captured at Alnwick by Henry II’s forces and secured his release by the Treaty of Falaise, through which he became Henry’s liege man for Scotland and all his other lands. In August 1175 at York, William, his brother David and the earls and barons of Scotland did homage and fealty to Henry as their liege lord: Howden, Gesta, ii. 64, 79–82; Duncan, 99–100. 32 Howden, Gesta, i. 347–8. 33 Howden, Gesta, i. 351; The Chronicle of Melrose, A Facsimile, ed. A.O. and M.O. Anderson (London, 1936) [hereafter Melrose], 45. 34 Howden, Gesta, i. 351. 35 An excellent recent collection of essays on her is Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lord and Lady, ed. Wheeler and Parsons. 36 Howell, 10–16. 37 Howell, esp. 255–86. 38 What is not clear is whether William had always been minded towards linear succession, but had previously been unable to find a suitable bride, or whether the decision to be followed by his own child took as long to make as his decision to marry. 39 William, who had been in poor health, devised a scheme whereby Margaret would marry Richard I’s

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arise again, because in 1198 Ermengarde had a son, Alexander, and three years later William had his magnates swear fealty to the infant.40 When Alexander succeeded his father in 1214, Ermengarde became the first queen of Scotland since St Margaret to have a son who became king, and the first ever whose son was the immediate successor of his father.41 But what of Ermengarde’s own activities? In 1211 and 1212 the very future of her and her family seemed to be under threat: William was facing a rebellion from Guthred, who had a claim to the throne through his great-grandfather, Duncan II. William was an old man and it seemed as though his kingship was in jeopardy.42 He met King John at Norham in February 1212.43 Walter Bower, writing much later but probably here using an account written by Bishop William Malveisin, a key player in William’s government, credits Ermengarde with a key role: ‘the queen of Scotland was present and acted as a mediator, an extraordinary woman, gifted with a charming and witty eloquence’.44 The practical consequences included crucial military aid for William from John, a commitment that John’s daughter, Joan, should marry the young Alexander, and an agreement to support the other’s heir in the event of the other’s death. Ermengarde also had a judicial role at this time. The Register of Dunfermline Abbey records a case being heard before her in the curia regis in May 1212, over disputed rights in a church between Dunfermline and a noble couple.45 Why the king was absent is unclear, but the queen was able and willing to exercise authority within the court, and a decision was reached in favour of the abbey. The Dunfermline record also refers to her seal, the first reference to such a device belonging to a queen of Scotland, implying that Ermengarde issued documents in her own name. However, none of these have survived from William’s reign, and since the decisions of the Scottish curia regis were rarely recorded at this time, there is no evidence as to how exceptional or otherwise was Ermengarde’s role in the presiding over the royal court.

nephew, Otto of Brunswick, and the couple would succeed. It is unclear whether it was William’s intention to be succeeded by Margaret regardless of her marriage. Howden records that leading magnates objected to the succession of a king’s daughter over the right of his brother or nephew. Ermengarde’s pregnancy, though it did not result in a surviving son, was a reassurance of her fertility and William backed away from the scheme: Chronica Magistri Rogeri de Houedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols (RS 51, 1868–71), iii. 298–9. See also a confused account in of an oath taken to Margaret in the fifteenth-century chronicle of Walter Bower, Scotichronicon, gen. ed. D.E.R. Watt, 9 vols (Aberdeen and Edinburgh, 1987–98) [hereafter Bower], iv. 410–11; and discussion in Duncan, 105–8. 40 William may have been unsettled by the fraternal succession of King John in England, over the claim of Arthur of Brittany, William’s own great-nephew. Earl David did not do homage to his nephew until 1205, four years after the rest of the magnates: Melrose, 52; Stringer, Earl David, 43. 41 For evidence of the widespread commitment to Alexander II’s succession, despite the relative innovation of linear succession, see D. Broun, ‘Contemporary Perspectives on Alexander II’s Succession: The Evidence of the King-Lists’, in The Reign of Alexander II, 1214–49, ed. R.D. Oram (Leiden, 2005), 79–98. 42 Duncan, 110, 112. 43 A.A.M. Duncan, ‘John King of England and the King of Scots’, in King John: New Interpretations, ed. Church, 247–71. 44 ‘Ubi precipua et melliflua verborum faececia affuit regina Scotorum mediatrix’, Bower, iv. 467–9. For his source see ibid., xxiii–xxiv, and W. Scott, ‘Abbots Adam (1207–1213) and William (1215–1216) of Melrose and the Melrose Chronicle’, in Church, Chronicle and Learning in Medieval and Early Renaissance Scotland, ed. B.E. Crawford (Edinburgh, 1999), 161–72. Bower drew on a variety of earlier sources throughout his work, see esp. Bower, ix. 234–59. 45 Registrum de Dunfermelyn, ed. C. Innes (Bannatyne Club, 1842), 94–5, 123–4, 166, 211; Regesta Regis Scottorum, ii, ed. G.W.S. Barrow and W.W. Scott (Edinburgh, 1971), 57–8.

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Further evidence of Ermengarde’s political activity is found in an accusation made before Pope Honorius III that she had been bribed by Bishop Walter of Glasgow so that she would influence William to give him the bishopric in c. 1207.46 The accusation was presumably disproved, since Walter continued to hold the office, but it nonetheless implies a belief that the queen could have such influence over her husband. Thus the evidence does point to a degree of political activity and influence exercised by Ermengarde in the later years of her husband’s reign. At her marriage the young queen was significant because of her dynastic ties, and as the means through which Edinburgh castle was restored to William’s control, and in her first years in Scotland she was significant in terms of the hopes for her childbearing. But once she had actually had a son, Ermengarde became the mother of the designated heir to the kingdom, putting her at the heart of the royal family. Her role as mother may also have increased her interest in the affairs of the kingdom that her son would one day inherit; she may even have been able to use her motherhood to claim a right to enter the political arena. Motherhood certainly inspired Eleanor of Provence to a greater role in political life, as Howell has shown.47 Further, the later years of William’s reign were marked by strained relations with King John in England and an upturn in unrest within Scotland. William’s increasing age and declining health provided more opportunity for his younger queen to act on his behalf. Thus the scope of Ermengarde’s activities was influenced not just by her own lifecycle, but by her husband’s, making her personal relationship with him of the utmost importance. Ermengarde’s son, Alexander II, was sixteen when he succeeded to the kingship, and seems to have been close to his mother. She seems to have taken on the role of pious widow and loving queen mother, leading William’s funeral cortege and visiting his grave with her son,48 while Bower’s account of her deep mourning implies a lasting reputation for her devotion to William’s memory.49 Mother and son founded a Cistercian abbey at Balmerino, where Ermengarde was ultimately buried.50 By this time, Alexander had married his own queen, Joan. They married in 1221, and as the elder sister of the reigning king of England, Henry III, Joan as a matrimonial prize far outstripped the matches made by any previous king of Scots. This illustrates the extent to which the profile of Scotland and its kings had risen on the western European stage since the previous generation. The enmity between King John and Philip II of France had caused them both to consider (and at times to court) the allegiances of the kings of Scots. This included unsuccessful negotiations for the marriages of Philip II’s daughter to Alexander, and later for Philip himself to marry William’s daughter.51 It was agreed at Norham in 1212 that Alexander and Joan would be married, but nothing further was done about this during King John’s lifetime. In 1219, Alexander pressed for his marriage to Joan to go ahead. That he was eventually successful, despite his active support for the failed rebellion of the English barons in 1215–17, shows his relatively strong position vis-à-vis the young 46

Vetera Monumenta Hibernorum et Scotorum, ed. A. Theiner (Rome, 1864), 29, p.13; Early Sources of Scottish History, ii, ed. and trans. A.O. Anderson and M. Anderson, new edn (Stamford, 1990), 436 n. 5. 47 Howell, 32–3, 36–7, 55. 48 Fordun, i. 280, 283. Fordun compiled his chronicle in the late fourteenth century, but it contains a series of annals, the Gesta Annalia, not written by Fordun and based on earlier sources, now lost; see D. Broun, ‘A New Look at the Gesta Annalia attributed to John of Fordun’, in Church, Chronicle and Learning in Medieval and Early Renaissance Scotland, ed. B.Crawford (Edinburgh, 1999), 9–30. 49 Bower, v. 2–3. 50 Cartularies of Balmerino and Lindores, ed. W. Turnbull (Edinburgh, 1841), 4, 5, 6; Melrose, 80, 82. 51 Duncan, 108, 109–10.

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King Henry III, although owing to the impoverishment of the English crown he accepted her without maritagium.52 Their equality was also demonstrated geographically in the location of the wedding at York,53 far enough north to have a veneer of neutrality. It was doubtless Alexander II’s intention to follow the example of his father and be succeeded by an heir of his own body; his heir presumptive at his succession was Earl David’s son, John, but a king had not been succeeded by his cousin since 1005.54 Further, the primacy of the claim of a son of Joan was surely a condition of the marriage. Thus, in the first quarter of the thirteenth century, auspices were good for the institution of queenship in Scotland. Their sons were expected to succeed, putting them at the heart of the royal family. The kings were looking for increasingly prestigious brides, signalling a belief that the queen enhanced the royal dignity, and thus elevating her status. Ermengarde had acted as an intermediary, and it must have been hoped that Joan would have even more scope to mediate between her husband the king and her brother the king. This seems to have been the case: Joan was present at meetings between her brother and her husband,55 and a letter survives from Joan to her brother written during Hugh de Lacy’s 1224 invasion of Ireland, providing intelligence on Norwegian involvement and reassuring him that the Scots would not intervene against Henry’s interests.56 But her primary function was to produce an heir. Joan was to be a dynastic vessel, channeling the royal blood of her natal and marital families into an heir to the Scottish kingdom, in whose person the royal houses would be united, with the ultimate prospect of the kings of England and Scotland being first cousins.57 But by 1237, sixteen years into the marriage, Joan was still childless, something which must have become even more worrying when Alexander II’s nephew, John, died in June, leaving him without an obvious heir presumptive. Alexander II met Henry III for a conference at York in September of that year, and both their queens were present.58 Afterwards, when Alexander returned home, Joan remained in England. She and Eleanor of Provence went together on a pilgrimage to Canterbury,59 and it is surely likely that both women were praying for an heir.60 However, Joan fell seriously ill, and died in England in March 1238, in the arms of her brothers.61 Matthew Paris comments that ‘her death was grievous, however she merited less 52

D. Carpenter, The Minority of Henry III (London, 1990), 152–3, 196. The minority government also agreed that Alexander’s eldest sister, instead of marrying Henry as King John had promised, would marry one of his subjects. For the significance of the 1215–17 conflict in Alexander II’s reign, see K.J. Stringer, ‘Kingship, Conflict and State-making in the Reign of Alexander II: The War of 1215–17 and its Context’, in The Reign of Alexander II, ed. Oram, 99–156. Also cf. M. Brown ‘Henry the Peaceable: Henry III, Alexander III and Royal Lordship in the British Isles, 1249–1272’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III, ed. Weiler and Rowlands, 43–66, esp. 44–8. 53 The wedding was widely noted by contemporary chroniclers, e.g. Melrose, 75. 54 For the succession of Malcolm II, after the murder of Kenneth III, see Duncan, 22. 55 Bower, v. 158–9; Melrose, 85; CPR 1232–1247, 132 (calendared in Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, ed. J. Bain, 4 vols (Edinburgh, 1881–8) [hereafter, Bain], i. 1255). 56 Royal Letters, i. 195 (219–220) (Bain, i. 852). 57 A comparable dynastic match was that of Henry I and Edith-Matilda of Scotland in 1100, through which the new Anglo-Norman royal house was united with the Anglo-Saxon and the Scottish: Huneycutt, Matilda of Scotland, 27–8. 58 Melrose, 85. 59 Melrose, 85–6. 60 M. Howell, ‘Royal Women of England and France in the Mid-Thirteenth Century: A Gendered Perspective’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III, ed. Weiler and Rowlands, 169. Eleanor gave birth to a healthy son, Edward, in June 1239: Howell, 27. 61 Melrose, 86.

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mourning, because she refused to return [to Scotland] although often summoned back by her husband’.62 Though uncharitable, this raises the possibility that even after sixteen years as queen of Scotland, Joan was still happiest with her natal family in England. Certainly she lingered there before her death; arrangements were only being made for her return to Scotland in January,63 four months after leaving Scotland, before illness intervened. She was buried, in accordance with her wishes, at the nunnery of Tarrant Keynes in Dorset.64 Tarrant had been founded by Richard, bishop of Durham, who had on occasion formed part of Joan’s escort, and was the site of his burial.65 Richard had given Tarrant to Eleanor of Provence upon her arrival in England, so it already had a queenly connection.66 Henry III spent lavishly on provision for her burial and commemoration, including money for candles and textiles, the feeding of the poor for her soul and (fourteen years after her death) a tomb effigy for his sister.67 It is remarkable that a queen of Scotland requested as her final resting place a nunnery in Dorset, hundreds of miles from her marital home, and it surely implies that her primary identity was as an English princess, not as a Scottish queen. It would appear then that Joan’s childlessness resulted in her failure to be integrated fully into the Scottish royal family. There is no evidence that Joan was politically active within Scotland, implying perhaps that she felt that she had little invested there. (Although one should consider the paradox that good relations with England facilitated by her marriage left Alexander II free to focus personally on Scottish affairs, with little need for her input.) Certainly, if Joan was ambivalent about Scotland, Scotland seems to have been ambivalent about her. In recording her death, the Chronicle of Melrose mentions that she was without children,68 while the Gesta Annalia notes that Alexander II was forced to marry again because Joan was childless.69 This suggests a recognition that no matter what her virtues, her failure to bear a child made her, in essence, a failure as queen. Whatever Alexander’s personal feelings at the death of his wife of sixteen years, it presented him with the opportunity to marry again and father an heir. His initial intention may have been to marry another close relation of Henry III, in the person of a sister of Eleanor of Provence, but this plan did not come to fruition.70 Instead in May 1239, aged nearly forty, Alexander II married Marie de Coucy, a young woman who, Alexander must have assumed, would have many fertile years ahead. Although

62

‘Cujus obitus, licet lugubris erat, tamen ipsa minus meruit plangi, quia saepius per virum suum revocata reverti dedignatbatur’, Matthew Paris, Historia Anglorum, ii, ed. F. Madden (RS, 1866), 405. 63 CLR 1226–1240, 309–10 (Bain, i. 1395). 64 Melrose, 86; CCR 1237–1242, 48 (Bain, i. 1422). 65 CCR 1234–1237, 331 (Bain, i. 1257); Melrose, 85. 66 CM, iii. 392, 479; Howell, 262, 282. 67 CPR 1232–1247, 483 (Bain, i. 1693); CLR 1226–1240, 316–17 (Bain, i. 1407); CLR 1240–1245, 306 (Bain, i. 1670); CLR 1251–1260, 91 (Bain, i. 1902). See also J.C. Parsons, ‘Never was a body buried in England with such solemnity and honour’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. Duggan, 317–37. Henry III had had a silver effigy made for the tomb of his youngest daughter Katherine, who died in 1247, Howell, 101–2. 68 Melrose, 86. 69 Fordun, i. 291. 70 A letter from Alexander II to Henry III in 1238 refers to the ‘negotium’ between Alexander and the sister of the queen which cannot attain the effect desired; CCR 1237–1242, 143 (Bain, i. 1444). Eleanor’s unmarried sisters Sanchia and Beatrice were perhaps too young to promise an immediate heir. Alternatively their powerful Savoyard uncles may have been unwilling to allow one of their nieces to make a match that was of little benefit to them. The Savoyards were instrumental in arranging the eventual marriages of Sanchia to Richard of Cornwall in 1243, and Beatrice to Charles of Anjou in 1246: Howell, 33–4, 38–9, 46; E.L. Cox, The Eagles of Savoy (Princeton, 1974), 114–15, 119–21, 146–9, 152–3.

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dynastic considerations were secondary, Marie did not lack dynastic merit. She was the daughter of a leading Picardy nobleman, Engelrann III de Coucy, and a descendant of Robert II count of Dreux, younger brother of Louis VII of France. Engelrann III had been personally involved in the attempts of Louis of France to take the throne in England at the beginning of Henry’s reign, but the de Coucy barons were not mere patsies of the French king. On the contrary, they were notoriously independent.71 In this respect then, Alexander II chose an intelligent middle way. Marie’s and Alexander’s son, another Alexander, was born in September 1241. The Chronicle of Melrose records that this was the forty-fourth year of Alexander II’s life, and the twenty-seventh of his reign, emphasizing the long wait that there had been for this child, the first direct male descendant of David I born for almost half a century.72 Marie was thus the queen consort of Alexander II and the mother of his heir. While these two roles must have afforded her the highest status, there is little evidence that she had an active role in politics. Alexander had been king for a quarter of a century by the time of his marriage to Marie, the machinery of government was well established, with little need for input by a young woman, with a limited grasp of the language. Her position is comparable to that of Adeliza of Louvain, Henry I’s second wife. She too was a young woman, arriving at a wellestablished foreign court, under tremendous pressure to have a child, and she too seems not to have had a significant role in government.73 Bower records one instance of Marie’s political input, claiming that when Walter Bisset was implicated in the murder of the earl of Atholl in 1242, Marie, who had been staying at Bisset’s castle on the night of the murder, interceded for him, offering to take an oath that he would never do such a thing.74 Intercession was a very queenly role in western Europe, drawing on the image of Virgin Mary as intercessor; it was sometimes on behalf of a friend or ally of the queen, sometimes a set piece or a response to a request from a person the queen herself did not know.75 It is tempting to view the Bisset episode within these parameters, as a Scottish instance of typical queenly intercession. But there is no surviving evidence that it was an established role of the queen in Scotland.76 Indeed, the murder of the earl was a result of the bitter factional rivalry at the Scottish court, and sparked a political crisis, and Marie’s willingness to intercede might best be seen as expressing genuine support for Bisset, or attempting to bolster Alexander’s support for him, rather than as fulfilling an expected function. Marie’s plea was unsuccessful: Bisset was outlawed and fled to the English court. 71 72 73

S. Painter, The Scourge of the Clergy: Peter of Dreux Duke of Brittany (Baltimore, 1937), 55–61. Melrose, 89. L. Wertheimer, ‘Adeliza of Louvain and Anglo-Norman Queenship’, Haskins Society Journal vii (1995), 101–16. 74 Bower, v. 179–80. For the context and consequences of the murder, see R.D. Oram, ‘An Overview of the Reign of Alexander II’, in The Reign of Alexander II, 1214–49, ed. R.D. Oram (Leiden, 2005), 1–48, at 27–35. 75 J.C. Parsons, ‘The Queen’s Intercession in Thirteenth-Century England’, in Power of the Weak, ed. J. Carpenter and S. MacLean (Chicago, 1995), 147–77; Stafford, Queen Emma, 150, 181; Huneycutt, Matilda of Scotland, 82–4. 76 Henry III responded to intercession from Joan on occasion (e.g. CR 1237–1242, 5 (Bain, i. 1374)) and more frequently from Margaret (e.g. CPR 1258–1266, 128, 144, 151, 153 (Bain, i. 2230, 2246, 2253, 2259)), and it is possible that if these queens considered it their role to intercede with him, they might also consider it their role to intercede with their royal husbands. But it might equally be the case that they were accessing the tradition of English royal intercession without attempting to establish a similar practice in Scotland, and it is notable that Alexander III also interceded with Henry III (e.g. CPR 1258–1266, 128 (Bain, i. 2233)). Howell has emphasized that at Henry III’s court intercession was by no means limited to the queen: Howell, 257–9.

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Like Adeliza of Louvain, Marie maintained close links with her natal family. For both women, these are most obvious after the deaths of their first husbands,77 but Matthew Paris also claims that in August 1244, when Anglo-Scottish relations were extremely strained, Alexander sent to Marie’s brother who wished to provide aid and counsel ‘for love of the Queen of Scotland, his sister’ [pro amore reginae Scotiae, sororis suae]. Paris claims that the brother’s attempts to help were thwarted by Henry III, though the details are unclear.78 If Henry III had been dubious about Alexander allying himself with the de Coucy barons in the first place, this episode must have angered him further. Paris indeed blames the strained Anglo-Scottish relations of the mid-1240s in part on Alexander’s marriage, stating that the friendship between the two kings had been greatly weakened (‘nimis attenuata’) since Alexander had allied himself by marriage to the daughter of Engelrann de Coucy who, being French, was considered a great enemy of England.79 Clearly, with no personal ties to the English king, there was no way that Marie could fulfil one role that had been adopted by both Ermengarde and Joan, that of mediating or facilitating good relations with him. But Marie, for all that she may not have had a significant role in government, fulfilled her primary function by producing an heir, and as Alexander III he duly succeeded to the kingship of Scotland in 1249. He was a minor, not quite eight years old when his father died, raising the possibility that his mother could act as regent. There were precedents for regency in neighbouring kingdoms: Blanche of Castile had acted as regent during the minority of Louis IX after 1226,80 and Eleanor of Aquitaine was a virtual regent in England during the absences from England of her son, Richard I, and was pivotal in ensuring the succession of her younger son, King John.81 Early indications suggest that Marie was happy in Scotland: in June 1250 she attended the translation of the body of Queen Margaret of Scotland, wife of Malcolm III and the great-great-great-grandmother of Alexander III, who had been canonized by Innocent IV.82 This was an occasion of enormous religious and dynastic significance for Alexander and for Scotland, and Marie’s presence indicates her integration into the Scottish royal dynasty. Yet the event was also a compelling reminder of the potential power of a queen of Scotland, and thus may equally have highlighted Marie’s political impotence in regency politics. If Marie hoped for a regency role, she was certainly thwarted by the ambitions of the rival Durward and Comyn factions, whose enthusiasm to monopolise power left no room for the queen.83 Instead, in September 1250 Marie returned to France,84 and her actions have been compared with those of Isabelle of Angoulême, who, denied any 77

For example, Adeliza was a patron of Afflighem Abbey in Flanders, a foundation which received considerable patronage from her natal family and where one of her brothers was a monk: Cartulaire d’Afflighem, ed. E. De Marneffe (Brussels, 1997), 61, 67, 68, 97. 78 CM, iv. 360–1. Paris gives slightly different accounts elsewhere, but the basic premise is plausible: see Historia Anglorum, ii. ed. F. Madden (RS, 1866), 490; Flores, ii. 279–80. 79 CM, iv. 359. 80 Miriam Shadis, ‘Blanche of Castile and Facinger’s “Medieval Queenship”: Reassessing the Argument’, in Capetian Women, ed. K. Nolan (New York and Basingstoke, 2003) 137–61. 81 J. Martindale, ‘Eleanor of Aquitaine: The Last Years’, in King John: New Interpretations, ed. Church, 137–64. 82 Fordun, i. 295; Bower, v. 295–6; see also R. Bartlett, ed. and trans., The Miracles of St Æbbe of Coldingham and St Margaret of Scotland (Oxford, 2003), xxxv–xxxvii, xlii–xliii. 83 For Alexander III’s minority see D.E.R. Watt, ‘The Minority of Alexander III of Scotland’, TRHS, 5th series xxi (1971), 1–23; A. Young, ‘Noble Families and Political Factions in the Reign of Alexander III’, in Scotland in the Reign of Alexander III, ed. N. Reid (Edinburgh, 1990), 1–30. 84 CPR 1247–1258, 74 (Bain, i. 1785); CLR 1247–1251, 311, 336 (Bain i. 1791, 1795). CM, v. 265 (where Paris mistakenly dates it as 1251).

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role in the regency government of Henry III, returned to France, where she later remarried.85 But it is not fair to push the comparison too far. A crisis in Marie’s natal family may have been the catalyst for her return to France,86 and the following year she attended the wedding at York of Alexander III and Margaret, the daughter of Henry III. Matthew Paris is rather disapproving of her, making arch comments about the magnificence of her retinue and the pomposity with which she travelled.87 Marie’s intention was surely to make a point about her role in Scotland; she may have been sidelined politically, but she was still queen of Scotland, mother of the reigning king, and should be accorded due status. In a celebration marked for its conspicuous consumption, she was not going to be outdone. It is not known how long she stayed on that occasion, or whether she went from York to Scotland, but the evidence clearly shows that Marie regularly travelled back and forth between France and Scotland. This was in spite of her remarriage to John de Brienne, a match which was brought about by the need to reconcile Marie’s younger brother, Engelrann IV, to John de Brienne’s close ally, Louis IX of France.88 After this marriage, Marie briefly seemed to have an opportunity for political involvement, when in November 1258 she and John were named as leading figures in a new minority government.89 The new government was a compromise between the Durward and Comyn factions, and the queen mother and her husband were presumably considered neutral. But there is no evidence that their position was anything other than nominal, and they soon returned to France.90 Nonetheless, this illustrates her continuing high status, as well as, perhaps, her aspirations. Marie’s second marriage was not a success and from the late 1260s she was based primarily in Scotland.91 At some point she made a grant of 250 marks to Melrose Abbey, Alexander II’s place of burial, most likely fulfilling the role of a widow commemorating her late husband.92 While there is no indication that she had any political influence, it is possible that during a final visit to France in 1284 she was responsible for arranging the second marriage of her son, Alexander III, to Yolande de Dreux, a young French noblewoman to whom Marie was distantly related.93 Though Marie died in France in 1284,94 a charter of Newbattle Abbey implies that it 85

D. Carpenter, The Struggle for Mastery (London, 2003), 366. For Isabelle’s career in France, see Vincent, ‘Isabella of Angoulême: John’s Jezebel’, in King John: New Interpretations, ed. Church, 209–213. 86 The Coucy barony had just been inherited by her tempestuous younger brother, Engelrann IV, who was no older than fourteen, Dictionnaire de Biographie Francaise, ix, ed. R. D’Amat (Paris, 1961) [hereafter DBF] 869–70. Marie’s uncles came to Scotland to collect her; CPR 1247–1258, 74 (Bain, i. 1786). 87 CM, v. 266. 88 This is suggested by K.J. Stringer in his entry on Marie in the new DNB. See also DBF, ix. 869–70; M.W. Labarge, Saint Louis: The Life of Louis IX of France (London, 1968), 175–6. 89 CPR 1258–1266, 2–3 (Bain, i. 2139); also CCR 1256–1259, 461–2 (Bain, i. 2140). 90 One wonders if Louis IX’s apparent hostility to the Scots was based upon Brienne’s reports of Scottish life; according to Joinville, Louis once told his eldest son that he would rather a Scot ruled France well than his son rule it badly; Joinville, 10–13. 91 Bower, v. 368–71, 386–7; also CPR 1266–1272, 637; CPR 1272–1281, 136 (Bain, ii. 67); CPR 1272–1281, 160 (Bain, ii. 80), CPR 1272–1281, 186 (Bain, ii. 84). 92 Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland, i, ed. C. Innes (Edinburgh, 1844), part 1, 115. The letter recording this grant is itemized in a list of documents kept at Edinburgh castle in 1292, now lost. The grant is not recorded in the cartulary of Melrose Abbey, but given that Alexander II was buried at Melrose it is a perfectly explicable act of patronage. 93 Marie’s second husband, John de Brienne, was Yolande’s step-grandfather: Europäische Stammtafeln, III/4 (Marburg, 1989), 683. 94 Bower, v. 416–17.

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had been her intention to be buried at that foundation, in stark contrast to Joan’s desire to be buried in England.95 Marie then was a woman who felt very deeply the responsibilities which she had to both her natal and her marital families, and who despite the geographical obstacles, strove to fulfil those responsibilities. The first marriage of Marie’s son, Alexander III, has obvious parallels with the first marriage of his father. Margaret, his future bride, was born the year before Alexander, to the reigning king and queen of England. The prospect of their marriage had been a lynchpin of Anglo-Scottish diplomacy since their infancy, and was confirmed in 1244, before either child was old enough to comprehend its significance.96 The marriage to Margaret was a tremendously prestigious match for the young Alexander, and like the marriage of Joan and Alexander II a clear indicator that the king of Scots was considered a vital ally by the English king. The wedding was celebrated lavishly at York at Christmas 1251,97 and as with the marriage of Alexander II and Joan, the northern location suggests a veneer of equality between bride and groom. Matthew Paris attributes an impassioned wedding-day speech to Alexander III, in which he pleads with Henry to adopt him as a son, because his father is dead and his mother has abandoned him.98 Whether fairly or not, Paris doubtless had in mind another errant mother, Isabelle of Angoulême. Perhaps Henry did too; the words of his young son-in-law apparently brought him close to tears. Subsequent events show the extent to which the Scottish royal couple were integrated into Henry III’s close family circle.99 Henry frequently interfered in the activities of the Scottish minority government in order to safeguard what he considered to be the interests of the young royal couple. One such intervention took place in August 1255, when, according to Matthew Paris, Margaret reported to a physician sent by her mother that she was being ill-treated by her guardians. Henry III sent John Mansel and Richard, earl of Gloucester, to investigate, and Margaret reported to them that, among other things, this ill-treatment included being kept by herself without a proper household, and being prevented from having conjugal access to her husband.100 Robert de Ros and John Balliol, the northern barons whom Henry had appointed as custodians for Alexander III and Margaret, were punished by the English king. But it seems most likely that the ‘ill-treatment’ had been meted out by members of the Scottish minority council, and that Ros and Balliol’s chief crime was failing to control that council.101 If this interpretation is correct, it would seem to indicate that the Scottish nobles were anxious to prevent Margaret from both from influencing the king through personal contact, and from building up a power base using her own household – in other words, they were anxious to prevent her turning out like her

95 96

Registrum S. Marie de Neubotle, ed. C. Innes (Bannatyne Club, 1849), 120 (p. 89). Chronicon de Lanercost, 1241–1346, ed. J. Stevenson (Bannatyne Club, 1839), 51 [hereafter Lanercost]; Ann. Mon., ii. 333; iii. 164; CM, iv. 381. 97 K. Staniland, ‘The Nuptials of Alexander III of Scotland and Margaret Plantagenet’, Nottingham Medieval Studies 30 (1986), 20–45; CM, v. 267–72. 98 CM, v. 271–2. 99 For an analysis of the relationship between the two kings, see Brown ‘Henry the Peaceable: Henry III, Alexander III and Royal Lordship in the British Isles, 1249–1272’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III, ed. Weiler and Rowlands, 43–66. 100 CM, v. 501–5. 101 CM, v. 506–7, 528, 569, where Matthew Paris clearly believed that Ros and Balliol had been treated unfairly. Ros was pardoned in 1259 by the English baronial council; CChR 1257–1300, 25 (Bain, i. 2168).

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mother.102 To Henry however, such things were outrageous – in particular he must have been horrified that the minority government were attempting to delay the production of an heir. He took swift action to ameliorate the situation, chiefly by replacing the Comyn-dominated government with one made up of a broader base of interests (an indicator that he blamed the council for the royal couple’s treatment at least as much as Ros and Balliol).103 But it is notable that at no point did he threaten to have the marriage dissolved;104 Margaret’s queenship in Scotland, and the son he hoped that she would produce, remained key. Thus family concerns and political strategies were intertwined to the point that they were indistinguishable – Margaret’s position as wife of the Scottish king and daughter of the English king meant that Henry and Eleanor’s concern for the wellbeing their daughter and son-in-law, and their concern for the government of Scotland, were one and the same. This was not always to Margaret’s benefit, and there is some evidence that her ‘foreignness’ could be used against her. An incident in October 1257, essentially an attempt by the Comyn faction to re-establish its control of the minority government, also drew intervention from Henry III.105 Matthew Paris states that Margaret was reproached by the rebels ‘because she had spurred on and called upon her father the king of England to come upon them as an enemy with his army, to do wretched destruction’.106 This is simply untrue, but it could well reflect Comyn propaganda; Margaret, a young, foreign queen with an ‘overmighty’ father, provided a convenient scapegoat for what were primarily internal disputes. This was a role which foreign queens had had to endure throughout history, and it was not an enviable one.107 Margaret’s position may also have accessed the memory of Joan’s strong residual loyalty to her natal family, and of the seeming ease with which Marie, who at this time was based primarily in France, had abandoned her ties in Scotland to return abroad. However, the role of a queen as scapegoat necessitated something for which she could be scapegoated, and the relative stability that descended on Scotland from 1258 onwards must have improved Margaret’s position. Henry recognized that a change in the balance of power in Scotland need not be detrimental to the interests of the king and queen,108 and a compromise council was named, including members of both Comyn and Durward factions, and including in a nominal role Queen Marie and John de Brienne, as noted above. Thereafter, while genuine affection remained, Henry was not much involved in Scottish politics. During his adult rule Alexander III proved to be an able king who had no need of recourse to his father-in-law, while from the late 1250s that father-in-law had trouble enough in England not to be much concerned with Scotland.109 Margaret and Alexander visited the English royal court in late 1260, and

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Howell, esp. 266–9. As noted, a full consideration of the household of the queen of Scotland is beyond the scope of the present paper. 103 CPR 1247–1258, 426 (Bain, i. 2013); Duncan, 156; Watt, ‘The Minority of Alexander III’, 11–14. 104 See e.g. CPR 1247–1258, 421 (Bain, i. 1987–8). 105 A. Young, Robert the Bruce’s Rival: The Comyns, 1212–1314 (East Linton, 1997), 57–9. 106 ‘Im[pro]perabant insuper reginae, quod patrem suum regem Angliae exacuerat et vocaverat, ut cum exercitu super eos hostiliter veniret, facturus exterminium miserabile’, CM, v. 656. 107 J.M. Bak, ‘Queens as Scapegoats in Medieval Hungary’, in Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, ed. Duggan, 223–33. 108 Young emphasizes that throughout the minority period, despite its turbulence ‘the reverence for royal authority is unmistakable’, Young, ‘Noble Families and Political Factions’, 7. 109 Brown argues that Henry III’s interest in Scotland had never been more than marginal; Brown, ‘Henry the Peaceable’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III, ed. Weiler and Rowlands, 53.

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Margaret remained there after Alexander had returned to Scotland. She was heavily pregnant, and gave birth to a daughter in late February or early March 1261 at Windsor, where she was staying with her mother. The continuator of Matthew Paris’s chronicle states that when they heard about the birth the Scots were angry, because she had hidden from them and from the king how near she was to delivery, so that she might achieve her desire of giving birth in England.110 It is certainly likely that Margaret wanted to have her first child near to her mother, Eleanor of Provence, who by 1260 was something of an expert, having had at least five healthy babies of her own. What is rather less likely is the chronicler’s statement that she had deceived her husband and the nobles about the stage of her pregnancy. Henry III’s Patent Rolls make it clear that by November the English were well aware that Margaret might give birth while in England, and that oaths had been sworn to safeguard Scottish interests in the event either of Margaret dying in childbirth, or of Alexander III dying while the baby was still in England.111 All this suggests that while the Scottish magnates were nervous that the birth of an heir in England could be used to alter the status of that heir, their English counterparts were keen to allay their fears. The Chronicle of Melrose, though it records that the baby was born in England, does not comment on this further.112 It should also be noted that the oaths taken imply that the child would be considered heir to the Scottish kingdom, whether it was male or female. Thus when Margaret was safely delivered of a girl, she became the mother of the heir. Two more children, both boys, would follow. During the minority of Alexander III, the involvement of Henry III in Scottish affairs gave his daughter, Queen Margaret, a high profile in the English sources, particularly in the St Albans chronicle, which was well-informed about northern affairs through its cell in Tynemouth. As seen, she was frequently portrayed in a negative light in this source, perhaps reflecting a degree of suspicion in Scotland that her true loyalties, like Joan’s, might lie with her natal family in England. But during Alexander III’s adult reign she virtually disappears from the narrative sources. What put Margaret’s position as queen almost beyond rebuke was doubtless her production of three children, which fully integrated her into the Scottish royal family, and replaced her old status as an outsider queen with the new status as mother of heirs. Unlike Ermengarde in Scotland and her own mother in England, motherhood does not seem to have stimulated Margaret to seek a greater role in politics. Her circumstances were somewhat different: Alexander was a year younger than his wife, in contrast to William and Ermengarde. Henry III’s court remained a hotbed of factional dispute, while in the Scotland the years between 1258 and 1286 are remarkable for their internal political stability.113 Unlike in England, where Eleanor sought to promote her own family and countrymen, there was no such obvious agenda for Margaret. The leading Scottish families tended to be cross-border dynasties,114 so there was little political capital in trying to promote narrowly ‘English’ interests. Further, Margaret knew what it was like for her loyalty to Scotland to be doubted, and was surely wary of promoting anyone who might be seen as

110 111

Flores, ii. 463. CPR 1258–1266, p. 95 (Bain, i. 2206), p.128 (Bain, i. 2229). The oath and its implications are discussed in Duncan, 157. 112 Melrose, 117. 113 Young, ‘Noble Families and Political Factions’, 7–24. 114 Ibid., 16–22.

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‘foreign’.115 Perhaps in different circumstances Margaret may have sought to place her younger brother Edmund in Scotland, but their mother Queen Eleanor was already dedicated to promoting his interests.116 But when the factional strife at Henry III’s court erupted into rebellion, Margaret’s closeness to her natal family, and the bond that through her had been created between Henry and Alexander, was plain to see. Indeed, Alexander’s support for Henry III was a striking contrast to his father’s role in the baronial rebellion of 1215–17. A large Scottish force sent by Alexander, including a number of leading magnates, fought for Henry III at the battle of Lewes in May 1264.117 Once again the private and the public were intertwined: Margaret was doubtless concerned for her family’s wellbeing, but she must also have recognised that the overthrow of Henry’s government could jeopardise the close Anglo-Scottish relations of recent years, rooted as these were in dynastic ties, and that this would have an adverse effect on the prospects of her son Alexander, Henry III’s own grandson. At the same time, Montfort knew that intervention from Alexander on Henry III’s behalf could jeopardise his position. After the capture of Margaret’s brother, Edward, at the battle of Lewes, he attempted to neutralize this threat by including the Scottish king in the staged (and entirely sham) freeing of Edward from custody. Montfort wrote to Alexander in Henry’s name in an attempt to get him onboard with the plan.118 Further, he issued a mandate to Margaret in her father’s name, urging her to use her influence with the king, his ‘proceres’ and ‘magnates’, that they should act on his letters and secure Edward’s freedom.119 The letter implies that there was a belief at the centre of English government that Queen Margaret was an active political voice in Scotland, at least in matters relating to her natal family. Montfort’s concerns about the closeness of Edward to his sister and brotherin-law are further illustrated by a lengthy story in the Chronicle of Melrose. It states that at some point during Edward’s captivity he was visited by Oliver, abbot of Dryburgh, sent ‘on hehalf [of the king] and queen of Scotland, Edward’s sister’ [ex parte [regis] et regine Scocie sororis Edwardi].120 Montfort was so concerned that the abbot might secretly be carrying a letter or message to Edward from the royal couple, that he stayed with the abbot at all times during his visit, even walking up the stairs to Edward’s chamber in front of him and downstairs away from it behind him. Montfort had good reason to be anxious: with or without a secret message, the fact that Oliver had been sent at all was a statement of continuing Scottish support for Edward (and by implication Henry III). After the eventual victory of Edward and Henry, Edward visited the Scottish royal couple several times,121 and the Chronicle of Lanercost records one occasion at which he was introduced to their elder children, and was apparently delighted by them.122 Again, Margaret’s unique role within her natal and marital families mingled the personal and the political: she 115

Matthew Paris claims that Alexander III was subject to the charge of promoting ‘foreigners’ in 1257, doubtless a reflection of the perceived influence of Henry III: CM, v. 656. 116 Howell, 130–4, 244–5, 251, 295. 117 D.A. Carpenter, The Struggle for Mastery (London, 2003), 386; A. Young, ‘Noble Families and Political Factions’, 19. 118 CCR 1264–1268, 102–4 (Bain, i. 2377–8). 119 CCR 1264–1268, p.104 (Bain, i. 2379). 120 Melrose, 142–3. 121 R. Studd, An Itinerary of Lord Edward, List and Index Society vol. 284 (Chippenham, 2000), 99, 110, 111. 122 Lanercost, 81. This chronicle was written in the north of England during the reign of Edward I, and has much information on Scottish affairs in this period. N.H. Reid, ‘Alexander III: The Historiography of a Myth’, in Scotland in the Reign of Alexander III, ed. N.H. Reid (Edinburgh, 1990), 181–213, at 183–4.

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was doubtless keen to see her brother, and introduce him to her children, but she must have been well aware that the long-term prospects of her son would be influenced to no small extent by his relationship with his uncle, the future king of England. This came even more to the fore after Henry III’s death in November 1272. Alexander III and Margaret attended Edward I’s coronation after his return from Crusade in August 1274. Alexander may have had some official role in the proceedings:123 if so, this was perhaps the apotheosis of good Anglo-Scottish relations, relations facilitated primarily by Margaret’s position as Edward’s sister and Alexander’s wife. But Margaret died in 1275, shortly after attending the coronation. The Chronicle of Lanercost describes her last days in some detail, recording that after seeing her confessor the queen refused entry to everyone except her husband and that she was ‘a woman of great beauty, chastity and humility [mulier magnae formositatis, castitatis, ac humilitatis]; which three [qualities] are rarely found together in one soul’.124 Margaret was buried at Dunfermline, the first ruler to have been so since Malcolm IV in 1165, and the first queen to have been since St Margaret herself. Indeed, the choice of burial place was undoubtedly influenced by the canonization and translation of St Margaret in 1250. Dunfermline was now the resting place of a sainted queen, a perfect association for the second Queen Margaret. Alexander also made a grant for her soul to Scone Abbey,125 another foundation intimately associated with the royal dynasty. As with Marie, this contrasts with the burial of Joan at Tarrant, as does the comment by the St Albans chronicler that the nobles greatly mourned Margaret, calling her a lady of great repute and beauty.126 Margaret’s career then shows a woman who overcame a somewhat insecure beginning as a young outsider queen to become fully integrated into the Scottish royal family and the Scottish political elite. This was in large part due to the evolution of her lifecycle – her maternity – but it also perhaps reflects her willingness to sacrifice a high-profile political role in her adopted country, such as Eleanor of Provence had had, in order to put herself beyond suspicion. But Margaret did not sacrifice her ties with her natal family, instead she brought her husband into that family circle, and the importance of Margaret in the good relationship between England and Scotland from the late 1250s until her death should not be underestimated. Yet within a few years Margaret’s success would turn to failure: her three children all predeceased their father, leaving Alexander without an immediate heir, without the means of begetting one, and, one can assume, grief-stricken. In 1285 he married Yolande, the daughter of Robert count of Dreux, and great-great-granddaughter (through her mother) of Simon IV de Montfort.127 Like Marie de Coucy half a century earlier, Yolande provided a match that was not subject either to the king of England or the king of France. Unlike Marie though, Yolande did not prove the ultimate wisdom of the match by having a child. Alexander III died only five months into the marriage, falling from his horse while riding through the night en route to his new wife. The Chronicle of Lanercost, so generous in its praise of Margaret, is scathing about Alexander’s second marriage and damning about its consequences. It states that the marriage was to Alexander’s own sorrow, ‘and to the almost perpetual 123 124 125 126 127

Duncan, 159. Lanercost, 97. Liber Ecclesie de Scon, ed. C. Innes (Bannatyne Club, 1843), 72. Flores, iii. 44–5. Europäische Stammtafeln, III/1 (Marburg, 1984), 63; III/4 (Marburg, 1989), 642.

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damage of the whole province’.128 It is near-hysterical in its hatred of Yolande, stating that many people said that she had taken the habit in France, ‘but had looked back with the easiness of a woman’s heart, and from the ambition for royal authority’.129 She is implicated in her husband’s death, for he was rushing to see her despite warnings from his advisors about the bad weather.130 After Alexander’s death, there was a question as to whether Yolande might be pregnant, and the chronicler takes the opportunity to complete her vilification by stating that this was an example of ‘feminine cunning [astus femineus]’ and that she was pretending to be pregnant, so that she could gain favour with the people.131 According to the Chronicle, the pretence continued for some time. She refused to be examined by ‘honestae matronae’ – these women being a clear contrast to the disreputable Yolande – and even arranged to appropriate a baby to pass off as her own. Her plan was only thwarted by the good sense of the earl of Buchan, and she was duly sent back across the sea.132 The chronicler notes with some satisfaction that ‘women’s cunning always turns towards a wretched outcome’.133 Serious discrepancies in the account make it clear that the story must be based largely on false rumour,134 and the likelihood is that Yolande was indeed pregnant, and that the child was either still-born or died soon after birth.135 As Professor Duncan suggests, official silence surrounding the birth and death of the infant could encourage scandalous ideas, but for the chronicler to repeat such gossip in this way requires a degree of antipathy that is quite remarkable, and not entirely explicable. Norman Reid has suggested that his view could have been coloured by Yolande’s lineage: Anglo-French relations were poor at this time.136 Further, the rumour that she had turned her back on a religious life would not have endeared her to a monastic author. But there seems to be more to it than that.137 Yolande was a convenient scapegoat for Alexander’s early death and for the tumultuous events that followed it, and her gender was the key issue. The attack on her is couched throughout in gendered terms: she has a woman’s fickleness and ambition, her rejection of the religious life implies a rejection of chastity, while the king’s ultimately fatal desire to see her suggests that her sexual desires have also led him astray. Moreover, by pretending to be pregnant Yolande manipulates her sexuality for her own gain, until her scheme is thwarted by the intervention of a male aristocrat. But the Chronicle of Lanercost is not uniformly woman-hating. The same chronicle contains the portrait of Queen Margaret, which eulogizes her ‘beauty, chastity and humility’. Thus the chronicler uses Margaret and Yolande to portray to the audience first the ideal queen (and indeed the ideal woman) – beautiful, chaste and

128 129 130

‘. . . sibi in dolorem et toti provinciae in perpetuum fere damnum’, Lanercost, 114, 116. ‘. . . sed faciliate cordis feminei et ambitu regni retro respexisse’, Lanercost, 116. Lanercost also records numerous premonitions and omens relating to the time of Alexander’s death (115–16). Rumours of such portents remained in currency, see Bower, v. 418–19, 428–9. 131 Lanercost, 117–18. 132 Ibid., 118. 133 ‘. . . semper mulieris versutia miserum vertit in exitum’, Lanercost, 118. 134 These include the statement that Yolande continued the deception until the feast of Purification (2 February 1287), almost eleven months after her husband’s death. The chronicler is also mistaken in his implication that she was sent back to France immediately; in fact she remained in Scotland for several years, evidence in itself that she was not in disgrace. 135 See discussion in Duncan, 177–8. 136 Reid, ‘Alexander III: The Historiography of a Myth’, 186. 137 In England, Henry I’s queen Edith-Matilda overcame rumours that she had taken holy orders and was widely respected by monastic chroniclers: Huneycutt, Matilda of Scotland, 28–9, 145–8.

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humble – and then her antithesis – ambitious, fickle and scheming. The key difference between them is their fertility and use of their sexuality: Margaret could be described as chaste by the chronicler because her sexuality was used for the production of three children. Yolande’s sexuality was used not for the production of children, but for the pursuit of power.138 In fact Yolande remained in Scotland for some years living off her dower lands, implying that she was accorded the respect due to her as the widowed queen.139 Later, she remarried, to the heir to the dukedom of Brittany, and together they would found a successful dynasty.140 In Scotland, guardians were appointed to govern while Alexander III’s heir, his infant granddaughter, remained in Norway, her father’s kingdom. But she would die before she arrived in Scotland, throwing the country into fresh turmoil.141 Had she lived, the Maid of Norway would have been Scotland’s first queen regnant, and despite the lack of precedent for a female ruler, there was at least a firm precedent for high profile royal women. After the fifty-odd year gap between queens in the twelfth century, the queens consort from Ermengarde onwards were to some extent starting afresh. But also from Ermengarde onwards, there is a degree of continuity in the roles of the thirteenth-century queens that suggests the development of queenship as an institution. The queen consort was expected to mother heirs and be at the centre of a royal family; she was expected to provide and maintain a connection between the king and her natal kin; if she lived to be queen mother, she could expect some involvement in the reign of her son. To an extent, these roles were the result of developments external to the queen: the growing acceptance of linear succession, and the integration of Scotland into western Europe, necessitating diplomatic links with foreign ruling houses; but the importance of the marriages themselves in integrating Scotland into the wider European world should not be underestimated. The role of the queen could go further – for example Ermengarde presiding over a judicial case – and it is tempting to suggest that other Scottish queens too may have played such roles, but that the evidence has been lost. But this must not be taken too far: although evidence certainly is scarce, we are on dangerous ground if we assume that the queens of Scotland must have fulfilled particular functions based wholly on the evidence of queens elsewhere. The case of Margaret, the best documented thirteenth-century queen, shows how different her style of queenship was from that of the queen of England at the time, her own mother; these queens of Scotland do not appear to have been conspicuously pious or particularly enthusiastic ecclesiastical patrons, unlike many English queens, and indeed their own predecessor, St Margaret; nor do they seem to have undergone a ritual inauguration, also unlike English queens. Certainly each of these women must have looked to history and to neighbouring countries for inspiration and examples, both good and bad. But how each interpreted and applied these examples and traditions was greatly affected by her individual personality, her husband’s personality, and the particular set of

138

Childless queens were frequently the subjects of gossip; J.C. Parsons, ‘Damned if she didn’t and damned when she did: Bodies, Babies, and Bastards in the Lives of Two Queens of France’, in Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lord and Lady, ed. Wheeler and Parsons (New York, 2002), 265–99. 139 The Exchequer Rolls of Scotland, i, ed. J. Stuart (Edinburgh, 1878), 39, 40, 43, 46. 140 M. Jones, Between France and England: Politics, Power and Society in Late Medieval Brittany (Aldershot, 2003), V, 103; M. Jones, ‘Some Documents Related to the Disputed Succession to the Duchy of Brittany, 1341’, Camden Miscellany 24 (1972), 37. 141 For the events and significance of the Maid’s short life, see Duncan, 175–96; and SHR lxix (1990), which is devoted to her.

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circumstances of her time as queen. Even Ermengarde and Marie, who both had a profile as queen mother in Scotland during the reigns of their sons, put it into practice in very different ways. Nonetheless, the differences should not obscure the similarities. During the thirteenth century, the duties of the queen of Scotland came increasingly to reflect the duties of queens in England and France. And these duties were gendered: mother, daughter, wife, widow. The queen’s lifecycle was inescapable, but it provided her with roles that no man, not even the king, could fulfil. This gave the queen the opportunity to be at the centre of the royal family, and to use her position there in a variety of ways. But it also meant that failure in these roles – and in particular, failure to become a mother – could result in her queenship being considered a failure by contemporaries, and perhaps also by herself.

Ethnicity, Personal Names, and the Nature of Scottish Europeanization

Matthew Hammond The notion of Europeanization was first posited by Robert Bartlett as a way of explaining the sweeping changes that affected peripheral lands as disparate as Scotland, Sicily and Silesia in the central Middle Ages. This model has now superseded more localized concepts such as Normanization as the favoured means of understanding the experience of Scotland, Ireland and Wales at that time. Bartlett allowed for two further submodels within this framework – that of complete or partial conquest, as experienced by Wales and Ireland, respectively, as well as the more balanced approach taken by lands with centralized kingships who willingly invited immigrant, chivalric aristocracies as a way of modernizing their military capacity and counterbalancing the power of homegrown nobilities. The kingdom of the Scots can thus be compared to such analogues as Hungary, Bohemia and Pomerania, but its experience of Europeanization within the British Isles was unique.1 As an anomoly, the Scottish kingdom prior to the Edwardian invasion of 1296 has tended to sit uneasily within the related paradigm of ‘Domination and Conquest’, which was so eloquently expressed by Professor Rees Davies.2 One of the most abiding characteristics of the Bartlett and Davies models has been an emphasis on the ethnic interactions of this period of conquest and hegemony, especially on the negative stereotypes developed by those we now tend to call the Anglo-Normans regarding their neighbours. As Davies put it, ‘the dimensions of the cultural divide are not in doubt. Contemporaries registered the depth of the chasm’.3 Historians of the ‘Domination and Conquest’ have tended to focus on Scotland’s own peripheral zones, especially Galloway and the Kingdom of the Isles, which, as areas with non-centralizing regional sub-kings, had more in common with the conditions in Wales and Ireland on which the model was clearly based. Accordingly, scholars have tended to shy away from the more ambiguous core of the Scots kingdom.4 At the same time, however, Davies was able to portray the development Ethnicity, Personal Names, and Scottish Europeanization

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Robert Bartlett, The Making of Europe: Conquest, Colonization and Cultural Change 950–1350 (London, 1993), esp. ch. 11. 2 R.R. Davies, Domination and Conquest: The Experience of Ireland, Scotland and Wales 1100–1300 (Cambridge, 1990). 3 Idem, The First English Empire: Power and Identities in the British Isles 1093–1343 (Oxford, 2000), 119. 4 Davies, for example, tended to discuss Scotland’s experience after the Edwardian conquest, as well as highlighting John of Fordun’s opinions, which date to the 1370s, glossing over the probability that the Highland/Lowland distinction was only nascent in the thirteenth century. Davies, First English Empire, esp. 83–8. Some of the more notable works in recent years to focus on the Scottish periphery have been R. Andrew McDonald, The Kingdom of the Isles: Scotland’s Western Seaboard c.1100–c.1336 (East Linton, East Lothian, 1997); idem, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland: Challenges to the Canmore Kings, 1058–1266 (East Linton, 2003); Richard D. Oram, The Lordship of Galloway (Edinburgh, 2000); Keith J. Stringer,

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of Scotland as a success story for its Europeanizing kings, who managed to ‘forge a single ethno-political identity out of such a varied assemblage of peoples’.5 Bartlett has allowed that Scotland enjoyed ‘a kind of ethnic equilibrium we do not find in Ireland’.6 Dauvit Broun has pointed out the dichotomy between what he termed a modus vivendi between Gaelic and Anglo-French cultures existing until the mid or late thirteenth century in east-central Scotland, the kingdom’s historic heartland, and the strongly held views, elucidated by John Gillingham, of the Angli and Franci of their neighbours as uncivilized barbarians.7 Gillingham has demonstrated effectively that, over the course of the twelfth century, English attitudes towards their Gaelic and Welsh neighbours hardened into a supercilious condescension, stemming from diverging feelings about commerce, warfare and sex.8 Broun used this as a staging point for a discussion of how Europeanization affected the Scottish kingdom’s ancient cultural links with Ireland, but it begs many compelling questions. Were the immigrant Anglo-French knights troubled by their barbaric colleagues? The cases of men like Thomas de Colville, ‘cognomento Scoto’, and Alan de Candela, whose seal reads ‘S. ALANI SCOTC’, suggest that the ethnic situation in Britain’s northern kingdom may have had considerably more complexity than current models allow for.9 To what extent were the competing ‘native’ and immigrant aristocracies of the thirteenth-century kingdom of the Scots acting on a level playing field? How did this modus vivendi play out on the ground? Should we think of this in terms of a kind of Scottish exceptionalism within Europeanization? A good starting point is always with the documents themselves. One way in which Scotland differed markedly from Ireland and Wales was in the issuing and witnessing of charters. As Bartlett wrote, ‘the Anglo-Normans were very much more familiar with the process of issuing charters and did so far more frequently than the native Irish’.10 This common-sense notion, however, did not always hold true for the northern kingdom. For example, in the justiciarship of Scotia, the core Scottish heartland north of the Forth, the process of charter adoption by the aristocratic classes appears to have affected native and immigrant landholders alike. There, the processes that helped spread charter culture, the expanding roles of the centralizing monarchy and the reformed church, treated equally the incomers and the entrenched, if acculturizing, native nobility.11 For example, royal grants of land

‘Periphery and Core in Thirteenth-Century Scotland: Alan, son of Roland, Lord of Galloway and Constable of Scotland’, in Medieval Scotland: Crown, Lordship and Community, ed. Alexander Grant and Keith J. Stringer (Edinburgh, 1993), 82–113. See also chapters on Ross, Galloway, and the Western Isles in Alba: Celtic Scotland in the Medieval Era, ed. E.J. Cowan and R. Andrew McDonald (East Linton, 2000), and The Exercise of Power in Medieval Scotland, c.1200–1500, ed. Steve Boardman and Alasdair Ross (Dublin, 2003). 5 Davies, First English Empire, 62. 6 Robert Bartlett, ‘Colonial Aristocracies of the High Middle Ages’, in Medieval Frontier Societies, ed. Robert Bartlett and Angus MacKay (Oxford, 1989), 23–47, esp. 29. 7 Dauvit Broun, ‘Anglo-French Acculturation and the Irish Element in Scottish Identity’, in Britain and Ireland 900–1300: Insular Responses to Medieval European Change, ed. Brendan Smith (Cambridge, 1999), 135–53, esp. 140–1. 8 John Gillingham, The English in the Twelfth Century: Imperialism, National Identity, and Political Values (Woodbridge, 2000), 12. 9 Liber Sancte Marie de Melros (Bannatyne Club, 1837), no. 192; J. Raine, The History and Antiquities of North Durham (1852), App., no. 379. Another compelling example is that of ‘William Scot of Coldingham’, as in Raine, North Durham, nos 202, 208. 10 Bartlett, ‘Colonial Aristocracies’, 28. 11 Matthew H. Hammond, ‘A Prosopographical Analysis of Society in East Central Scotland, circa

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by charter became commonplace between about 1160 and 1180, and were as likely to go to Scottish earls, their sons, members of the royal family, and other local landholders as they were to immigrant barons and burgesses.12 Similarly, donations to monasteries, which we assume to have been recorded in most instances by the monks themselves, were frequently made by local figures such as the earls of Fife, Angus, and Atholl, as well as other quasi-baronial families like the lords of Abernethy, in addition to immigrant families like the Hays, Barclays and de Quincys.13 Of the ten most frequent grantors (in surviving charter texts) prior to 1200 in Scotland north of Forth, three were close relatives of the king and four were ‘native’ earls.14 Monastic benefaction of newly founded or converted monasteries under the patronage of aristocrats spread according to the ties of family, marriage and land tenure to people of both native and immigrant status. The witness lists of royal charters, furthermore, do not categorize testatores according to race; scribes routinely gave earls precedence over immigrant barons and from time to time allowed minor locals with names like Gillecrist mac inien Samuel to come ahead of knights like Geoffrey de Maleville (Melville) and Walter of Berkeley (Barclay), men who would soon become justiciar and chamberlain, respectively.15 Aristocrats began to issue charters to other laypeople from the early thirteenth century, with a certain amount of growth probably attributable to the 1230 legislation on novel disseisin; again there is no clear ethnic dimension to this trend.16 The charters and their witness lists can also reveal something to us of the social contexts in which immigrants interacted with the ‘native’ Scots. In this regard, as Bartlett and Davies have clearly pointed out, Scotland’s situation was perceptibly different from Ireland and Wales. Scotland was mercifully void of the legally enforced ethnic definitions that existed in Ireland and Wales to throw up barriers between the two groups.17 What is interesting is not merely that this ‘apartheid’ was 1100–1260, with special reference to ethnicity’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Glasgow, 2005), 45–8; Dauvit Broun, ‘The Adoption of Brieves in Scotland’, in Charters and Charter Scholarship in Britain and Ireland, ed. Marie-Therese Flanagan and Judith A. Green (Basingstoke, 2005), 164–83. 12 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 41. Early recipients included Berowald the Fleming, Donnchad (‘Duncan’) II, earl of Fife, Philip the chamberlain, Ralph Frebern, Orm son of ‘Hugh’ (of Abernethy), Walter son of Philip, William son of Freskin, ‘Gilbert’ nepos of Bishop Andrew of Caithness, Ralph Ruffus, Máel Ísu (‘Malise’) son of Earl Ferteth of Strathearn, Merleswain (of Ardross and Kennoway, Fife) and ‘Gilbert’ son of the earl of Angus. Regesta Regum Scottorum [hereafter RRS], I: The Acts of Malcolm IV, King of Scots, 1153–65, ed. G.W.S. Barrow (Edinburgh, 1960), nos 175, 190, 255, 256; RRS, II: The Acts of William I, King of Scots, 1165–1214, ed. G.W.S. Barrow with the collaboration of W.W. Scott (Edinburgh, 1971), nos 9, 14, 42, 43, 114, 116, 131, 133, 135, 136, 137, 140, 147, 152, 153, 171, 185, 204, 205. 13 For example, see Liber Cartarum Prioratus Sancti Andree in Scotia (Bannatyne Club, 1841) [hereafter St Andrews Liber], 237–93; Registrum de Dunfermelyn (Bannatyne Club, 1842) [hereafter Dunfermline Reg.], nos 144–68. 14 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 48. David, earl of Huntingdon (d. 1219), brother of kings Malcolm IV and William I, appeared as grantor to 26 charter texts of a probable pre-1200 date, relating to Scotland north of the Firth of Forth. Their mother, Ada, countess of Northumberland, granted ten charters dealing with the same region. King William’s illegitimate son, Robert of London, granted four. The earls (from north of Forth) to grant charters in the twelfth century were Donnchad II, earl of Fife (1154–1204), Gillebrigte (‘Gilbert’) earl of Strathearn (c. 1171–1223), Máel Coluim (‘Malcolm’) earl of Atholl (d. 1187 x 1189), and Morgrund (Morgan) earl of Mar (d. ante 1183). 15 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 194; RRS II, no. 30. Melville was justiciar of Lothian in the 1170s; Berkeley was chamberlain in the 1170s and 80s. Ibid., nos 33 and 44. 16 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 62–3. 17 Bartlett, ‘Colonial Aristocracies’, 28–9; R.R. Davies, ‘Race Relations in Post-Conquest Wales: Confrontation and Change’, Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion (1974/75), 32–56; Broun, ‘Anglo-French Acculturation’, 137.

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nonexistent on the institutional, de jure, level, but that it seems not to have existed much even at the de facto level. Surviving documents suggest that people of various national backgrounds coexisted in specifically legal contexts. For example, an ecclesiastical court at Perth on 11 April 1206 heard sworn testimony, in a case against Duncan of Arbuthnott in the Mearns, from John of Hastings, Isaac and Adam of Benvie, and Hugh the steward in addition to Malcolm of Idvies, Cormac of Newdosk and Somerled of Fetteresso (all probable thanes), and various members of the local clergy.18 Perambulations were commonplace in thirteenth-century Scotland, and documents recording them make a clear distinction between the farmers and other locals who did the actual perambulating and the upper-class dignitaries whose job it was to witness and approve of the ceremony. This group of landholders and administrators was generally characterized by a mix of types of people. For example, a perambulation of Kinblethmont in Angus, dated 23 September 1219, was witnessed by Angus son of Earl Gillebride of Angus, Donald son of Macbeth MacYwar, John Ab of Brechin and Morgrund his son, Duncan of Fearn, Gille Ísu, thane of Idvies, as well as Hugh of Cameron, sheriff of Forfar, William de Montealto (Mowat), Walter de Balliol, Adam seneschal (steward) of Arbroath Abbey, Roger, mareschal of the bishop of Brechin, Nicholas brewer of the king, Thomas son of Richard son of Adam Garmund, and others.19 What is interesting about these legally significant social contexts is that they had built into them the fact of social hierarchy, yet they failed to incorporate within that structure any evidence of lines drawn on the basis of ethnic identity. In other words, while there was a clear distinction between the two groups, it was not drawn along ethnic lines. A prosopographical approach to personal names can offer us perhaps the most fruitful avenue for exploring Scottish Europeanization. Names have served as many a historian’s doorway into ethnic identification of individuals, but the nature of the evidence suggests that scholars should be wary. Names are not always what they seem. Scribes often rendered Gaelic names in their Latin ‘equivalents’: Eugenius for Eogán (Sc. Ewen), Nigellus for Niall, Hugo or Adam for Aed, Bricius for Maelbrigte, Gilbertus for Gillebrigte, to offer merely a sampling.20 Furthermore, prosopographical analysis of family relationships from charter evidence reveals a wide array of naming traditions often within the same family. The hereditary abbots of Brechin, the descendants of one Leod (from the Norse Ljótr), used Gaelic names like Domnall and Máel Ísu as well as the kind of New Testament names, like John and Michael, which have been linked to Europeanizing tendencies.21 Such mixing often suggests a thorough blend of Scandinavian, Gaelic and Anglo-Saxon elements, giving rise to such individuals as Cospatric Macmadethyn, Edmund son of Gillemicheil, Aelwin mac Arkil and Gilleserf mac Rolf.22 The use of the Gaelic mac

18

‘Decreet of the Synod of Perth, A.D. MCCVI’, Spalding Miscellany v (Spalding Club, 1852), 209–13; Thomas M. Cooper, Select Scottish Cases of the Thirteenth Century (Edinburgh, 1944), 9. 19 Liber S. Thome de Aberbrothoc (Bannatyne Club, 1848–56) [hereafter Arbroath Liber], no. 228. 20 For a discussion of Gaelic names in a late medieval contexts, see K.A. Steer and J.W.M. Bannerman, Late Medieval Monumental Sculpture in the West Highlands (Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, 1977), 90–2. 21 G.W.S. Barrow, ‘The Lost Gàidhealtachd’, in Scotland and its Neighbours in the Middle Ages (London, 1992), 111–13; Bartlett, ‘Colonial Aristocracies’, 26. 22 Registrum Episcopatus Aberdonensis (Spalding and Maitland Clubs, 1845) [hereafter Aberdeen Reg.], i. 14–15; Arbroath Liber, no. 67; The Charters of King David I, King of Scots, 1124–53 and of his son Henry Earl of Northumberland, ed. G.W.S. Barrow (Woodbridge, 1999), nos 33, 34, 38; Dunfermline Reg., no. 196.

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rather than Latin filius, furthermore, suggests that this kind of linguistic blending was often taking place within a Gaelic-speaking milieu. The significance of personal names for Europeanization is highlighted by a general trend across Europe from more idiosyncratic, locally varying names to a small number of common, usually Germanic, secular names, and those of a few major universal saints, especially those of the disciples and apostles. Bartlett offers the examples of the naming patterns of the kings of Scots and the rulers of Mecklenburg as evidence of the trend, citing a move from ‘indisputably regional names’ like Duncan, Malcolm and Donald, shifting into a ‘very syncretistic pattern, in which Gaelic names are unusual’.23 This trend of abandoning names from the Gaelic, Norse and even Anglo-Saxon naming traditions, in favour of universal European names, was only a partial and incomplete transition among the aristocratic classes in east central Scotland. As Dauvit Broun has pointed out, at the same time that the most ‘Europeanized’ earldoms of Scotland were adopting the new practice of primogeniture, these same families chose distinctive and idiosyncratic Gaelic names for their eldest sons.24 In this way, the earls of Fife associated themselves time and again with the old Scottish royal names Donnchad (Duncan) and Máel Coluim (Malcolm). Furthermore, the earls of Strathearn had a marked affection for the moniker Máel Ísu, rendered in Latin as Malisius and in Scots as Malise. This tendency was not limited to the lands north of Forth: we could add to this list the earls of Dunbar, descendants of the Anglo-Saxon earls of Northumbria, who repeatedly favoured the name Cospatric, which combined a Brittonic naming element meaning ‘servant of ’, with an Irish saint, although the Cos- was dropped in the thirteenth century. The earldom saw two Cospatrics and five Patricks between the early twelfth century and 1368.25 The popularity of biblical and saints’ names in Scotland can probably be attributed to their accessibility to the kingdom’s inhabitants. Such names had long been common in Gaelic- and Britonnic-speaking areas, but with prefixes meaning ‘servant of ’, such as gille-, máel- and guas- (or cos-). In all probability, this allowed for a certain flexibility in straddling the cultural divide: individuals could go from Gillethomas to just Thomas, from Gilleoin to simply John. In the same way, it appears that certain Scottish nobles were able to move fluently between cultural contexts: Gillebrigte, earl of Strathearn, could become ‘Gilbert’ in a Frenchspeaking milieu, the husband of Matilda de Aubini.26 Examination of the other ‘native’ earldoms of Scotland north of the Forth in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries suggests the kind of strategic naming patterns pointed out by names scholars in many contexts in recent years.27 The most striking

23 24 25

Bartlett, Making of Europe, 274–7. Broun, ‘Anglo-French Acculturation’, 138. The Scots Peerage, ed. J. Balfour Paul, 9 vols (Edinburgh, 1904–14), iii. 239–59; Elsa C. Hamilton, ‘The Acts of the Earls of Dunbar relating to Scotland c.1124–c.1289: A Study of Lordship in Scotland in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Glasgow, 2003). 26 Charters, Bulls and other Documents relating to the Abbey of Inchaffray, ed. W.A. no Lindsay, J. Dowden and J.M. Thomson (Scottish Historical Society [SHS], 1908) [hereafter Inchaff. Chrs], no. 9. 27 Robert Bartlett has characterized the process of ethnic identification (especially self-identification) as ‘strategic and situational’, Bartlett, ‘Medieval and Modern Concepts of Race and Ethnicity’, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 31 (2001), 39–56, esp. 40. Aspects (including but not limited to ethnic aspects) of name-giving have been studied in the contexts of late antique Italy, early medieval Gaul, the medieval Crusader kingdoms, and Renaissance Italy. Patrick Amory, People and Identity in Ostrogothic Italy, 489–554 (Cambridge, 1997), 33–9; idem, ‘Ethnographic Rhetoric, Aristocratic Attitudes and Political Allegiance in Post-Roman Gaul’, Klio 76 (1994), 438–53, esp. 440; Iris Shagrir,

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trend was the tendency of many earls to copy the kings of Scots in their naming choices, particularly as certain more peripheral earldoms were brought more firmly into the monarchs’ orbit. For example, Gillebride, an earl of Angus who died 1187 x 1189, named his male sons Adam, Gillecrist, Magnus, Gilbert (perhaps again for Gillebride), William and Angus.28 The sudden appearance of a knightly French name must be due to the king of Scots, William I, who ruled from 1165 to 1214. Earl Gillecrist (d. ante 1206) was followed by Earls Donnchad (Duncan) (d. prob. ante 1214) and Máel Coluim (Malcolm) (d. 1236 x 1242).29 These are not only Scottish royal names but names also associated with the powerful earls of Fife. These prevailing winds from the south must, however, be weighed against a connection to the north. These earls of Angus were descendants of the line of St Magnus, the martyred earl of Orkney, and they made liberal use of the name. Earls Gillebride and Gillecrist of Angus both named sons Magnus. Magnus son of Gillebride became earl of Orkney and Caithness and was followed by three more earls of Orkney, of the Angus line, named Magnus, in the years up to 1329.30 In Atholl, the earls employed a strategy of naming designed to point to their descent from the Scots royal line.31 Earl Matad of Atholl (d. c. 1139?) named his eldest son Máel Coluim, presumably after his uncle, King Máel Coluim III. One of his daughters he named after St Margaret, Máel Coluim III’s queen. Another daughter, Bethoc, seems to have been named after a daughter of Domnall III Bán. Another son was called Donnchad. Earl Máel Coluim (d. 1187 x 1189) named his first son Simon, but his brother, Henry, became earl, the inspiration for his name undoubtedly coming from Earl Henry of Northumberland, the son and heir apparent of David I, who predeceased his father in 1152. Henry had brothers named Donnchad, Máel Coluim and Gilleithne.32 The same general trend to names employed by the kings of Scots can be seen with the earldoms of Lennox and Mar as well. In Mar, Earl Morgrund (d. ante 1183) gave three of his sons Scottish royal names (interestingly, the same three names mentioned by Bartlett) – Malcolm (Máel Coluim), Duncan (Donnchad) and Donald

Naming Patterns in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Oxford, 2003); David Herlihy, ‘Tuscan Names, 1200–1500’, Renaissance Quarterly 41 (1988), 561–82. 28 RRS I, no. 243; RRS II, no. 140; Arbroath Liber, nos 2, 39, 41, 43, 46, 47, 48, 52, 53, 90, 227, 228, 229, 306; Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Ch. 7712; Sir James Dalrymple, Collections concerning the Scottish History (Edinburgh, 1705), lxxiii–lxxiv. 29 Arbroath Liber, nos 47, 48, 52, 53, 112, App., no. 4. 30 Matthew H. Hammond, ‘The Division of the Earldom of Caithness, 1231–1594’, forthcoming; cf. Barbara Crawford, ‘The Earldom of Caithness and the Kingdom of Scotland, 1150–1266’, Northern Scotland 2 (1976–77), 97–115, reprinted in Essays on the Nobility of Medieval Scotland, ed. Keith J. Stringer (Edinburgh, 1985), 25–43. See also Scots Peerage, i. 160–66, ii. 313–20; Dalrymple, Collections, lxxiii–lxxiv; ‘Extracts from a manuscript volume of Chronicles, in the possession of the Right Honourable Lord Panmure’, Bannatyne Miscellany iii (Bannatyne Club, 1855), 43, 77; Registrum Magni Sigilii Regum Scotorum, ed. J.M. Thomson and others (Edinburgh, 1882–1914), ii. no. 804; Early Sources of Scottish History 500 to 1286, ed. A.O. Anderson (Edinburgh, 1922), ii. 513, 587, 614, 669, 675; Edinburgh, National Archives of Scotland, RH 9/4/2. 31 Anderson, Early Sources, 140; Orkneyinga Saga: The History of the Earls of Orkney, trans. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards (Harmondsworth, 1978), 119. Malcolm, earl of Atholl, referred to the kings buried in Dunfermline Abbey as ‘predecessorum meorum’ in a charter witnessed by King William. Dunfermline Reg., no. 147. 32 Dunfermline Reg., no. 147; St Andrews Liber, 245–6; Rental Book of the Cistercian Abbey of Cupar Angus (Grampian Club, 1879–80) [hereafter Coupar Rental], 27; G.W.S. Barrow, ‘Scots in the Durham Liber Vitae’, in The Durham Liber Vitae and its Context, ed. David Rollason and others (Woodbridge, 2004), 109–16, esp. 112.

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(Domnall) – while two others had the biblical names James and John.33 Earl Gillecrist (d. 1207 x 1211) also named his son Malcolm.34 Earl Duncan (d. 1242 x 1244) named his son William (d. ante 1281),35 and he was succeeded as earl by Donald (d. ante 1305).36 In the Lennox, the long-lived Earl Máeldomhnaich was followed by three generations of Máel Coluims.37 Even the powerful Earl Harald Maddadson of Orkney and Caithness named two of his children by Affrica of Fife Henry (or Heinrek) and Margaret, while two of his sons by Hvarflod (Gormflaith) of Ross he called David and John.38 The example of these Scottish earls – the same earls who were enthusiastically adopting chivalric culture and rubbing shoulders with immigrant knights – shows that they felt confident about taking part in a Europeanized culture without necessarily adopting European names. Indeed, the very few European male names that were used by these families were almost exclusively those they borrowed from the Scottish royal family, especially, as we have seen, William and Henry. What makes matters more interesting is that these earls were themselves becoming part of the Francisized international aristocratic network. Ela, wife of Earl Donnchad II of Fife (d. 1204) and Agnes, wife of Morgrund, earl of Mar (d. ante 1183) were almost certainly nieces of Countess Ada de Warenne, wife of Earl Henry and mother of kings Máel Coluim IV, William I and Earl David of Huntingdon.39 Orabilis of Leuchars, who married Earl Gillecrist of Mar, may also have had Warenne connections; she was at least seen as important enough to marry Robert de Quincy.40 Matilda de Aubini, wife of Earl Gillebrigte or Gilbert of Strathearn, was a descendant of David I’s Queen Maud. Máel Coluim I earl of Fife (d. 1228), it is now known, married Margaret de Tosny, niece of Ermengarde de Beaumont, wife of King William I.41 The families of the earls of Fife, Strathearn, Atholl and Mar were now intertwined with some of the most powerful kinship networks in western Europe, linking them to the Warenne earls of Surrey, the Beaumont earls of Leicester and the Quincy earls of Winchester. What were the cultural implications of this marriage of convenience? With the exception of Robert, earl of Strathearn (d. 1245), son of Earl Gillebrigte of Strathearn and Matilda de Aubini, and the afore33

Illustrations of the Topography and Antiquities of the Shires of Aberdeen and Banff, ii (Spalding Club, 1847), 17–18; Aberdeen Reg., i. 11–12, 16; Registrum Episcopatus Moraviensis (Bannatyne Club, 1837) [hereafter Moray Reg.], nos 70, 107; St Andrews Liber, 236–7, 332–3, 362–3, 367; Registrum Honoris de Morton (Bannatyne Club, 1853) i. App., no. 1. 34 Coupar Rental, no. 62; RRS II, no. 414. 35 While King William (1165–1214) was doubtless responsible for the popularity of the name among the Scots noble class, most typically among the earls of Ross, its use in this instance may also relate to William Cumin, earl of Buchan, who was a close ally of the earls of Mar. 36 Chartulary of the Abbey of Lindores (SHS, 1903) [hereafter Lind. Cart.], no. 26; Richard D. Oram, ‘Continuity, Adaptation and Integration: The Earls and Earldom of Mar, c.1150–c.1300’, in Boardman and Ross, Exercise of Power, 46–66. 37 Cynthia J. Neville, Native Lordship in Medieval Scotland: The Earldoms of Strathearn and Lennox, c.1140–1365 (Dublin, 2005), 12; Michael Brown, ‘Earldom and Kindred: The Lennox and its Earls, 1200–1458’, in Boardman and Ross, Exercise of Power, 201–24. 38 Orkneyinga Saga, 214, 218, 224. 39 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 49–51; St Andrews Liber, 246–9; Dunfermline Reg., no. 153; RRS I, 18, n. 6. 40 Alex Woolf has suggested by personal correspondence that Orabilis’s father, Ness of Leuchars, Fife, may have been a son of William III, earl of Warenne, who may have married a daughter of an earl of Fife, thus obtaining large estates in the province. 41 Daniel Power, ‘Terra Regis Anglie et Terra Normannorum sibi invicem adversantur: les héritages anglo-normands entre 1204 et 1244’, in La Normandie et l’Angleterre au Moyen Âge, ed. Pierre Bouet and Véronique Gazeau (Caen, 2003), 187–209, esp. 200–2.

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mentioned trend towards Scots royal names, naming patterns tended strongly toward Gaelic names. Robert may have been named for Matilda’s grandfather, Robert de Clare (d. 1134 x 1136),42 but his brothers were called Gillecrist, William, Fearchar, Fergus, Máel Ísu and Gilbert (for Gillebrigte).43 Only with the names of female offspring does the Europeanizing pattern begin to take precendence over Gaelic names.44 Gilbert and Matilda had daughters named Matilda, Cecilia and Eithne. Henry, earl of Atholl’s daughters, heiresses to the earldom, were named Isabella and Forbhflaith. Isabella, the elder daughter, married Thomas of Galloway (d. 1231), a descendant of the famous Fergus of Galloway. It was Forbhflaith who married the ‘Anglo-Norman’ David of Hastings (d. 1247).45 We are clearly in a world where cultural expectations have been turned on their head. Many Scottish earldoms changed hands (and new earldoms were created) in the thirteenth century, but these events did not automatically favour immigrant knights over native families. After the passing to the Galloway and Hastings families, Atholl settled on the Strathbogies, a cadet branch of the earls of Fife. Carrick, which had been created for a cadet branch of the Galloway family, passed to Adam of Kilconquhar, from another junior line of the Fife earls, before eventually going to Robert de Brus. Alexander II gave a revived Ross earldom to Fearchar Maccintsaccairt but created a new earldom in Sutherland for the de Moravias (later Murrays), a family of Flemish origin. The earldom of Angus went de jure uxoris to Gilbert de Umfraville, but another branch of the ‘native’ Angus family became earls of Caithness and Orkney.46 Immigrant baronial families had merely been introduced as potential players in a complex political game. The Comyns were certainly the most successful of these players; William Comyn became the first Anglo-French knight to succeed to a Scottish earldom when he took over Buchan c. 1211. His son Walter, moreover, became earl of Menteith by marriage, around 1234.47 While families like the Comyns brought their European naming preferences with them, they too were influenced by the strategic trends that affected their Scottish aristocratic neighbours. Like their Scottish concomitants, immigrant knights were fond of naming their children after their royal benefactors. This led them to adopt a handful of Gaelic names, especially the royal names Máel Coluim and Donnchad. In several instances, however, they went beyond this and adopted more idiosyncratic Gaelic names. William Comyn, earl of Buchan, gave his sons from his first marriage the names Richard, Walter and William, but the sons of his second marriage to Countess Margerie of Buchan were named Alexander, for Alexander II, who became king in 1214, William, perhaps for the king who had made him earl, and Fergus, in honour of Margerie’s father, the previous earl.48 Another Gaelic name, Ness, was adopted enthusiastically by immigrant knights in Fife, particularly by Ness son of 42 43 44

Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 158. Neville, Native Lordship, 11. M.A. O’Brien wrote that ‘the ladies in particular were prone to use foreign names’, of the situation in Ireland: O’Brien, ‘Old Irish Personal Names’, Celtica 10 (1973), 211–36, esp. 218; as quoted by Freya Verstraten, ‘Naming Practices among the Irish Secular Nobility in the High Middle Ages’, Journal of Medieval History, forthcoming. 45 Charters of the Abbey of Coupar Angus, ed. D.E. Easson (SHS, 1947) [hereafter Coupar Angus Chrs], nos 50, 52. 46 A.A.M. Duncan, Scotland: The Making of the Kingdom (Edinburgh, 1975), 447, 529, 585. 47 Alan Young, ‘The Earls and Earldom of Buchan in the Thirteenth Century’, in Grant and Stringer, Medieval Scotland: Crown, Lordship and Community, 174–99; idem, Robert Bruce’s Rivals: The Comyns, 1212–1314 (East Linton, 1997). 48 Ibid., x–xi; Lind. Cart., no. 140. Collections for a History of the Shires of Aberdeen and Banff (Spalding Club, 1843), 470.

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William, lord of Leuchars, and Ness of Ramsey, to give only two of several examples.49 Naming after Scottish monarchs, however, was the order of the day. Scotland’s famous modernizing monarch, David I, lent his name to many sons of immigrant knights, including David Giffard, David of Lindsey and David of Hastings.50 Of course, the name David was already known if not particular popular among the Angli and Franci, but the evidence of the name Máel Coluim (or Malcolmus) is unequivocal.51 Cultural prejudices were not enough to prevent immigrant knights of the families Warenne, Melville, Bisset, Lascelles, Hay, Leslie and Murray from bestowing on their sons a name that meant ‘servant of St Columba’ in Gaelic!52 What happened when William I named his heir apparent Alexander is likewise instructive.53 Before, virtually nobody in the kingdom held the name.54 After, many well-established families changed their distinctive naming patterns to emulate the monarch. For example, the family of the royal stewards, relatives of the Fitz Alan family in the Welsh marches, abandoned their alternating succession of Walters and Alans, leading to Alexander, steward of Scotland from 1241 to 1281.55 Other powerful Alexanders included Alexander Comyn, earl of Buchan from 1244 to 1289, Alexander Murray and Alexander Douglas.56 The family of de Haya (Hay) provides another telling example of strategic naming at work. King William gave Erroll, just east of Perth, to William de Haya between 1178 and 1182. William named three of his sons after the three most recent Scots kings – David, Malcolm and William.57 David de Haya, lord of Erroll, almost certainly married Eithne, daughter of Earl Gillebrigte/Gilbert of Strathearn. David named his own son Gilbert and referred to a later earl of Strathearn as ‘consanguineo meo’.58 Gilbert’s brothers again had names of kings – William and David. Similarly, Alan de Lascelles, landholder at Forgan in Fife, named his sons Alan, Donnchad (or Duncan) and Máel Coluim (or Malcolm) – in this case, probably in emulation of the earls of Fife’s favourite names.59 This situation is markedly at odds with naming trends in Ireland, where, in the earlier generations of the conquest, immigrant knights refrained from adopting the Gaelic names of the ‘natives’.60 In Scotland, the process of Europeanization was not unidirectional, and

49

For Ness, son of William, see Dunfermline Reg., no. 162; St Andrews Liber, 246–7, 254–5, 258–60, 287. For Ness of Ramsey, see Dunfermline Reg., nos 145, 176, 224; St Andrews Liber, 245; Liber Sancte Marie de Balmorinach (Abbotsford Club, 1841), no. 39; Moray Reg., no. 16. 50 Dunfermline Reg., nos 150, 155; Lind. Cart., nos 2, 3, 4, 29, 81; Arbroath Liber, no. 128. 51 On the Scottish connections of individuals named David and Alexander in England, see Stephen Marritt, ‘Coincidences of Names, Anglo-Scottish Connections and Anglo-Saxon Society in the Late Eleventh-Century West Country’, Scottish Historical Review 83 (2004), 150–70. 52 Dunfermline Reg., nos 74, 144, 145; Arbroath Liber, nos 83, 120, 310; Coupar Angus Chrs, nos 42, 44; Lind. Cart., no. 36; RRS II, no. 428; William Douglas, ‘Culross Abbey and its Charters’, Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 60 (1925–6), 67–94, no. 2. 53 William’s motivation probably lay in the growing popularity of the classical hero, combined with the fact that his great-uncle Alexander I had the name. Note also Pope Alexander III (1159–81). 54 Two notable exceptions were Alexander de St Martin, chief tenant of Countess Ada, and Alexander son of William son of Thorald, who was born before Alexander II. 55 Similarly, the only interruption in a long succession of Roberts de Brus was one William, who died in 1211 or 1212, and must have been born early in King William’s reign. 56 Arbroath Liber, nos 294, 310; Moray Reg., nos 21, 72; St Andrews Liber, 340–1. 57 Another son, Thomas, was perhaps named after Thomas Becket, whose cult was popular at that time. 58 Lind. Cart., no. 78; Coupar Angus Chr, nos 26, 35, 40, 42. 59 St Andrews Liber, 260, 318–19, 340–1; RRS II, no. 428. 60 Verstraten, ‘Naming Practices’.

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the evidence does not suggest problematic ethnocultural divides, at least within the eastern heartland. The tendency to follow those more powerful than oneself in deciding what names to bestow upon children continued further down the social scale at the level of lesser knights and smaller barons. While the names of the kings of Scots were popular among this group as well, fashion focussed on the names of the earls, particularly the powerful earls of Fife and Strathearn. This tendency held true regardless of the national origin or ethnic identity of the landholder or retainer. As with the Lascelles in Fife, so did the family of Ceres, household knights of the earls, copying Duncan, Malcolm, David, Adam, Alexander and Margaret from the earls as well as the royal family.61 Máel Ísu, meaning ‘servant of Jesus’, was specifically associated with the earls of Strathearn, and it was clearly more popular in that province than elsewhere: six local personae were called that, as were sons of the earl’s steward and a local thane.62 This was not just the case in Gaelic-speaking areas: in Dunbar, the name Patrick was common, and lesser gentry like Patrick son of Waltheof of Prenderguest reveal the same patterns of imitation.63 Indeed, even in the Southeast, the most Anglicized part of the kingdom, the picture is quite mixed. For example, in the last quarter of the twelfth century, one Liolf son of Elgi named his five heirs in a charter of Coldingham Priory; they were Cospatric, Gamel, Macbeth, Reginald and Eggard.64 Even at the level of peasants and neyfs, the picture presented by the personal names is not one of ethnic homogeneity. While many unfree peasants who turn up in the charters had traditional Gaelic names, this was not always the case. For example, Máel Ísu II, earl of Strathearn, gave John called ‘Starnes’ son of Thomas son of Thor to Inchaffray Abbey in 1258.65 In 1253, Norman of Leslie gave John son of Thomas son of Malind to Lindores Abbey.66 Similarly, Christina Corbet granted one Martin son of Uviet (i.e., Wulfgeat) to St Andrews Priory.67 Perhaps even more fascinating are the late thirteenth-century genealogies of peasant families working Dunfermline Abbey’s lands in Fife.68 They reveal a strong mix of Gaelic, Scandinavian, English and continental traditions, evident in such names as Bridin son of Sithech son of Edwald.69 The names are characterized by the use of Gaelic nicknames and ethnic by-names, as in Eugene son of Alwin Cameron son of William Fleming and Maurice son of Richard son of Gillecristin Mantauch.70 Eugenius and Mauricius were common Latin ‘translations’ of the Gaelic names Eogán (Scots Ewen) and Muiredach. Cameron comes from the Gaelic cam shrón for ‘crooked nose’, and manntach was Gaelic for ‘stuttering’ or ‘toothless’, as Simon Taylor has pointed

61

Dunfermline Reg., nos 174, 175, 176, 179; RRS II, nos 211, 304, 327, 329, 330, 334, 350, 351, 355, 356, 357, 385, 403; Carte Monialium de Northberwic (Bannatyne Club, 1847), no. 10; St Andrews Liber, 346; Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Ch. 6004. 62 Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 93; Inchaff. Chrs, nos 5, 10, 30; Lind. Cart., nos 27, 45, 53; Registrum Monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth (Grampian Club, 1872) [hereafter Cambuskenneth Reg.], no. 122. 63 Raine, North Durham, App., no. 332. 64 Raine, North Durham, App., no. 388. 65 Inchaff. Chrs, no. 88 66 Lind. Cart., no. 84 67 St Andrews Liber, 262–3. 68 Dunfermline Reg., nos 326–31; for a modern edition, see Simon Taylor, ‘Babbet and Bridin Pudding’, Nomina 17 (1994), App. II, 113–16. 69 Dunfermline Reg., no. 331. 70 Dunfermline Reg., nos 326, 328; Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 113.

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out.71 Interestingly, there is no clear transition here from more Gaelic to more European; in fact, the trend sometimes seems to be going in the other direction! This emphasis on cultural accommodation and a modus vivendi must, of course, be balanced with an appreciation of the large numbers of immigrant knights coming north. Some of these men even found employment in the households of Scottish earls. Men whose toponymical by-names suggest they were immigrants, men like William of Wyville and William of Holderness, were retainers of the earls of Fife.72 Others – lesser knights, landholders and burgesses – have toponymics pointing to the east coast of England, and places like Castle Rising and King’s Lynn in Norfolk, to Holland and Orby in Lincolnshire, to Scarborough and Everley in Yorkshire.73 Many others left their mark in a variety of ethnic by-names, suggesting their places of origin – Brito for Brittany, Costein for the Cotentin Peninsula in Normandy, Picard from Picardy, Franceis from Île-de-France, Mansel from Le Mans, Flamang from Flanders, Loereng from Lorraine.74 These, however, were by and large the by-names used to describe individuals, and not heritable surnames like the toponymics that many of the most powerful familes of Norman descent used. Those families, with names like Comyn, Revel, de Warenne, de Haya and de Munfichet almost invariably kept their surnames when they arrived in Scotland north of Forth. These families did not adopt the names of local places as a way of ‘planting the standard’, in the words of J.C. Holt.75 Instead, families of both Scottish and immigrant background engaged in a process of emulating this Europeanizing tendency. Certain groups can be singled out. Families of Flemish background still used patronymics when they established themselves in Scotland, but soon took Scottish place-names to become Murrays, Douglases, and Leslies. Another conspicuous group were the cadet branches of Scottish comital families, giving rise to lines like Ogilvie and Abernethy. For large swathes of the lesser gentry who adopted Scottish toponymics, we can only guess at their background. In a situation where personal names and local toponymical surnames are no guarantees of national background, we are left with very little to say about the ethnic identification of many of lower baronial status. What is noteworthy, however, is that what Bartlett once described as ‘the immigrant world’ of charters has very little to offer in distinguishing knightly families of probable Scottish background, like Ceres, Scott of Balwearie, and Monorgan, from probable immigrant landholders like Moncreiffe, Lochore and Gorthy.76 Instead, they were quickly developing into a 71 72 73

Taylor, ‘Babbet and Bridin Pudding’, 110–11. St Andrews Liber, 241–3, 269; Dunfermline Reg., no. 144; Moray Reg., no. 50. St Andrews Liber, 207–8; Arbroath Liber, App. no. IV; Inchaff. Chrs, nos 69, 70, 71; Moray Reg., nos 59, 64, 65, 79, 80, 87; Liber Ecclesie de Scon (Bannatyne and Maitland Clubs, 1843), nos 84, 86, 95; Grant G. Simpson, ‘An Anglo-Scottish Baron of the Thirteenth Century: The Acts of Roger de Quincy, Earl of Winchester and Constable of Scotland’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1965), ii. Additional Charters, nos 12, 13. See also P.H. Reaney, The Origin of English Surnames (London, 1967); idem, A Dictionary of English Surnames, 3rd edn, revised by R.M. Wilson (Oxford, 1997). 74 For Brito, see Dunfermline Reg., no. 189; Lind. Cart., no. 129; St Andrews Liber, 266–7. For Costein, see ibid., 257; Cambuskenneth Reg., no. 59. For Picard, see St Andrews Liber, 169. For Franceis, see Cambuskenneth Reg., no. 79; Coupar Angus Chrs, no. 20. For Mansel, see RRS I, no. 214; Arbroath Liber, nos 74bis, 89, 93, 94. For Flamang, see Coupar Angus Chrs, no. 48; Moray Reg., no. 122; Aberdeen Reg., ii. 268–9; Lind. Cart., no. 3, for only a small sample of the total. For Loereng, see Coupar Angus Chrs, no. 22; Coupar Rental, no. 28; Moray Reg., no. 83. See also Reaney, Origins, 65–8. 75 J.C. Holt, ‘What’s in a Name? Family Nomenclature and the Norman Conquest’, in Colonial England 1066–1215 (London, 1997), 194. (Originally delivered as 1981 Stenton Lecture at University of Reading.) 76 Bartlett, ‘Colonial Aristocracies’, 28.

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heavily intermarried, small if significant baronial class which took aspects of both ‘native’ and ‘European’ culture and was remarkably cohesive by the time of the wars of Independence.77 We can assume a certain degree of acculturization on the part of the Scottish aristocracy, adopting primogeniture and the trappings of knighthood. The ‘native’ earls went a long way towards bridging the cultural divide, by adopting change through their own initiative and through that of their king. This allowed them access to the prestigious world of western European aristocracy. This metamorphosis, however, was not a powerful enough impulse to cause the earls to abandon one very obvious display of Gaelic culture: their own names. At the same time, naming strategies suggest that the Anglo-Norman knights settling in Scotland were also willing to go some distance in bridging the gap: while it must have existed to a certain extent, the kind of condescension and bigotry ‘civilized’ people were supposed to have held towards Gaelic ‘barbarians’ was tempered by everyday realities. Ethnic identity was, for both the Scots and the immigrants, a malleable notion that could be changed or discarded when necessary. It was in this way that there emerged by the time of Edward I’s invasion a single, self-consciously Scottish, knightly class.

77

Hammond, ‘Prosopographical Analysis’, 147–54.

Power, Preaching and the Crusades in Pura Wallia c.1180–c.1280

Kathryn Hurlock It was not long after Urban II launched the First Crusade in 1095 that the ideas of crusading were being used within the borders of Christendom; as early as 1100, Landulf of Milan likened freeing the Church from simoniacs to the crusade, and three years later Robert of Flanders was offered remission of his sins if he fought against the people of Liège. Crusading began to be used as a way of removing religious and political enemies and troublemakers, either by launching crusades against them or, as with Thomas Becket’s murderers, by sending them to the Holy Land to fight. These developments were not confined to the most prominent crusading countries in Europe, but were expanded over time to include places, like Wales, which tend to be overlooked when the growth of the use of crusading in politics is considered. Although Archbishop Baldwin’s preaching tour of 1188 has been analysed on numerous occasions, notably by Huw Pryce and Peter Edbury,1 it has not yet been put into the context of developments in the use of crusading in Anglo-Welsh relations over the century that followed. This paper will seek to remedy this by considering how the tour tried, in part, to extend the power of the English Church and Crown, and will examine how this laid the groundwork for the developments in the use of the crusade in its theoretical, symbolic and material forms over the long thirteenth century, contrasting it with the proposal put to Dafydd ap Gruffydd in 1282 by Archbishop Pecham. The use of crusade propaganda, organisation and control in the power struggles between both different countries and between ruler and subject was common in Europe in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Sophia Menache argues that the idea of the crusade was used to ‘legitimise the process of state-building’2 and to exert control, the authority of the crusade lending weight and justification to decisions made by secular bodies. It was also used, in the case of Wales, to reinforce the power of Canterbury. Although Baldwin’s tour in 1188 was aimed at promoting the crusade message, it also allowed him a pretext for demonstrating his own power over the Welsh dioceses whilst on business that the Welsh could hardly oppose without earning the censure of the pope himself. The crusade theme could also be used ‘as a propaganda weapon . . . against enemies of the crown at any time and any place’.3 In England this was clearly seen in 1215–17 and 1263–5 when the papacy lent its support to the king in crusading terms.4 In Wales its use was not as unequivocal, but Power, Preaching and the Crusades in Pura Wallia

1

Huw Pryce, ‘Gerald’s Journey through Wales’, Journal of Welsh Ecclesiastical History 6 (1989), 17–34; Peter Edbury, ‘Preaching the Crusade in Wales’, in England and Germany in the High Middle Ages, ed. A. Haverkamp and H. Vollrath (Oxford, 1996), 221–33. 2 Sophia Menache, The Vox Dei: Communication in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1990), 176. 3 Ibid., 189. 4 By the autumn of 1216 the papacy was calling those who helped to defend the king ‘crucesignatus’,

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– as will be demonstrated in the cases of archbishops Baldwin and Pecham – it was employed nonetheless as a way of ending conflict and removing potential problems that faced the English Crown. I Archbishop Baldwin’s preaching tour of 1188 was largely undertaken ‘in the service of the Cross’ to encourage support for the Third Crusade, which had been called in 1187 in response to the loss of Jerusalem.5 Although both Archbishop Baldwin’s and Henry II’s motives for instigating the tour were complex, one of the English Crown’s aims in promoting the crusade in Wales was no doubt to counteract the opposition of Welsh leaders to Anglo-Norman advances: the presence of the Justiciar Ranulph de Glanville at the opening stages of the tour, suggests that it had more than an ecclesiastical aim. Despite the good personal connection between Henry I and the Lord Rhys, the relationship between England and the southern principality of Deheubarth was still highly volatile: only the year before, Maelgwn ap Rhys, lord of Ceredigion, had attacked and burned Tenby in the Southern March.6 By touring Wales, Baldwin would hope to recruit troublesome Welsh nobles, who could be distracted by fighting in the East.7 For Archbishop Baldwin it was a chance to exert ecclesiastical authority over the Church in Wales.8 Since archbishops Lanfranc (1070–89) and Anselm (1093–1109) had claimed authority for the whole of Britain, Canterbury had been trying to reinforce its position of power over St David’s, by claiming that the bishops of St David’s and Llandaff had been consecrated in Canterbury since the tenth century.9 Opponents of Canterbury’s supremacy countered this by claiming that until the Welsh St Samson had fled to the monastery of Dol in Brittany in the sixth century, St David’s had claimed metropolitan status.10 In order to bring the Welsh Church in line with that in England, the Normans began appointing Norman bishops to the and Urban IV allowed Guy Fulquois to preach a crusade against the rebels in the 1260s if it was felt necessary. For a full discussion of these political crusades see Simon Lloyd ‘ “Political Crusades” in England, c.1215–17 and c.1263–5’, in Crusade and Settlement, ed. P.W. Edbury (Cardiff, 1985), 113–120, esp. 115–16. 5 Giraldi Cambrensis, Opera: Itinerarium Kambriae, ed. James F. Dimock (London, 1868), 13. 6 Brut y Tywysogyon, or the Chronicle of the Princes, Peniarth MS 20 Version, ed. and trans. Thomas Jones (Cardiff, 1952) [hereafter Brut Pen.], 73. 7 Securing peace was paramount if Richard was to go on crusade. However, it seems that securing a truce was not necessarily part of Baldwin’s remit, as others seem to have been charged with organising a temporary peace for the duration of the crusade. Richard of Devises wrote that before Richard left on crusade he ‘accepted a pledge from the petty kings of the Welsh and the Scots that whilst he was on pilgrimage they would not cross their borders to do harm to the English’: Chronicon Richardi Divisensis de Tempore Regis Richardi Primi, ed. John T. Appleby (London, 1963), 7; Gerald of Wales, The Journey through Wales/The Description of Wales, trans. L. Thorpe (London, 1978), 75. 8 And, Huw Pryce observes, over the Welsh princes whose marriages were not always acceptable to the Church. Huw Pryce, ‘Gerald’s Journey through Wales’, 17–34, esp. 25. Itinerarium Kambriae, 126–7, 142; trans., Thorpe, 186, 200. 9 Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents Relating to Great Britain and Ireland, I, ed. Arthur West Haddan and William Stubbs (Oxford, 1869; repr. 1964), 208; R.R. Davies, The Age of Conquest: Wales 1063–1415 (Oxford, 2000), 189. 10 Trans., Thorpe, 18; La Vie Ancienne de Saint Samson de Dol, ed. and trans. Pierre Flobert (Paris, 1997), 223; Christopher Brooke, ‘The Archbishops of St David’s, Llandaff and Caerleon-on-Usk’, in Studies in the Early British Church, ed. Nora K Chadwick, Kathleen Hughes, Christopher Brooke and Kenneth Jackson (Cambridge, 1958), 201–42, esp. 209.

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sees that became vacant in Wales. By the time of Baldwin’s tour, all of the bishops had been chosen by the English king, or consecrated in England, but it had not been plain-sailing. In the late 1120s the chapter of St David’s began once again to claim metropolitan status for their see, and in 1140 Meurig, the newly elected bishop of Bangor, refused to do homage to the English King.11 Metropolitan claims were renewed in 1148 and in 1179 at the Third Lateran Council, but to no avail.12 The Norman incumbents were not favourably received in north Wales; Roger of Howden noted that, in 1175, the hostility of the Welsh was so great that the bishop of St Asaph wished to give up his bishopric.13 Thus in 1188, Baldwin celebrated mass at each of the Welsh cathedrals, Bangor, Llandaff, St Asaph and St David’s, in an effort to press home, in a clear and visible manner, the full extent of his claims, and to give a public demonstration of the range of his power and influence. Welsh Churchmen were aware of Baldwin’s intentions. Gerald of Wales noted the horror that Baldwin’s decision to go to St David’s elicited in the canons, who, Jealous of the interests of their own church, used every argument they could think of to persuade [him] [the Lord Rhys] to refuse to allow the Archbishop of Canterbury to continue his journey into the interior of Wales, and more especially, for until then such a thing had been quite unheard of, to visit St David’s itself.14 Gerald attributed Baldwin’s decision to celebrate mass at the four cathedrals to ‘an attempt to encourage people to take the Cross’.15 Although the demonstration of his ecclesiastical power was not Baldwin’s only concern, it is clear that his visitation of the four cathedrals was conceived in parallel to his crusade preaching. Although reference is made to the preaching of the Cross in Gerald’s accounts of Baldwin’s visits to Llandaff and Bangor, it appears that the archbishop failed to preach the Cross in either St David’s or St Asaph. In St David’s he celebrated mass, but he left the duty of preaching the Cross to Gerald while he rushed to meet the Lord Rhys, and in St Asaph no record is made of anyone preaching the crusade message, or of people assuming the Cross. It is possible that time constraints in St David’s, and an already successful preaching campaign by Bishop Reiner in the diocese of St Asaph, made crusade preaching here unnecessary, but it seems strange that Baldwin passed over the opportunity to address what would have undoubtedly been a sizable congregation if his main aim were to recruit them for crusading. The issue is not however so straightforward: Baldwin was clearly committed to crusading as he himself died in the Holy Land in 1191, so his failure here must be a result of numerous complex factors, only one of which may have been his desire to celebrate his status as archbishop. The inclusion of a visit to Llanddewibrefi in Gerald’s Itinerarium is of particular 11

Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents, 345. Although Bernard renewed the claim, he died before he could present it to the council at Reims; Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae 1066–1300, vol. 9: The Welsh Cathedrals (Bangor, Llandaff, St Asaph, St David’s), ed. M.J. Pearson (London, 2003), 2. 12 Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents, 352; Charles Duggan, ‘From the Conquest to the Death of John’, in The English Church and the Papacy in the Middle Ages, ed. C.H. Lawrence (Stroud, 1999), 102. 13 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti Abbatis. The Chronicle of the Reigns of Henry II and Richard I, ed. W. Stubbs (RS, 1867), i. 90–1. 14 Itinerarium Kambriae, 15; trans., Thorpe, 76–7. It is interesting to note that the passage referring to the canons of St David’s was not included in Gerald’s first version of the Itinerarium, but was included in the second, written in 1197, once the issue of the status of St David’s had occupied his attention. Ibid., 275. 15 Trans., Thorpe, 164.

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interest in terms of Canterbury’s attempts to exert its authority over the Welsh Church. It was here that a synod was held to suppress the Pelagian heresy. Pelagius was a fourth-century Briton16 whose beliefs were declared heretical in 417. His preaching, although centred on the concept that man possessed free will (as opposed to events being predetermined by God), has been seen as a protest against political tyranny,17 although as it centred on religious beliefs it challenged the Church more than the Roman state. The Pelagian heresy, focussing on the idea of free will, removed in part the need for the intercession of the Church of Rome and thus impinged upon its power in provinces where the heresy was adhered to. According to legend, the ground on which St David stood at Llandewi Brefi when he preached against Pelagius rose up into a mound, so that the assembled crowd could hear him. It was here that St David was elected archbishop, and the metropolitan seat of the archbishopric was transferred from Caerleon to St David’s.18 Gerald’s decision to include Llanddewibrefi in his description of Baldwin’s tour appears to have been made in order to underline the way in which the archbishop was asserting his authority over the native Church. First, Gerald says that the archbishop’s party travelled from Lampeter to Strata Florida, and then doubled back on themselves to Llanddewibrefi before continuing to the coast. This could suggest either that a visit to Llanddewibrefi was of such import that it warranted the effort, or that the party did not in fact visit, but that Gerald felt the town to be of such significance as to fabricate a visit, confusing the geography of the area in the process. Second, Gerald does not mention that the archbishop preached the Cross there, although he uses the opportunity of mentioning Llanddewibrefi in order to explain the events at the Synod of Brefi. As at the time he was writing the Itinerarium Gerald was not concerned with pressing for the metropolitan rights of St David’s, it seems unlikely that he included this information in order to bolster the claims of the bishopric. Instead, it seems that Gerald, and indeed the archbishop, whether they visited Llanddewibrefi or not, were concerned to show that the archbishop had visited a site so important to the Welsh Church on their tour in order to demonstrate Canterbury’s power in the area. Whether he preached there or not (or visited at all) would not necessarily have been the point; the very idea of Baldwin standing on the same mound where St David had once preached would have been a powerful symbol of his influence over the Church in Wales. The response to the crusade preaching was markedly different in the land of north and south Wales. In the south, the Lord Rhys met the archbishop on his arrival at Radnor, and again when he came to Cardigan, accompanying him to the northern border of Deheubarth. The preaching was met with a favourable response, and even Rhys prepared for his departure on crusade before his wife talked him out of it.19 North of the River Dovey in Gwynedd, Baldwin’s welcome was not so enthusiastic. While Rhys had met the archbishop on his arrival at Radnor, Gruffydd ap Cynan, a prince of Gwynedd, failed to greet Baldwin until the day after he crossed the River Dovey into Meirionnydd, ‘humbly and devoutly begging the Archbishop’s pardon 16

Pelagius’s origins are unclear. Myres believed he came from ‘the lowland civilized zone’ of Britain: J.N.L. Myres, ‘Pelagius and the End of Roman Rule in Britain’, Journal of Roman Studies 50 (1960), 21–36, esp. 21. He is sometimes claimed as being Irish or Welsh, although this is probably because of the popularity his heresy enjoyed in these areas. 17 Ibid., 26; Charles Thomas, Christianity in Roman Britain to AD 500 (London, 1981), 53. This theory was in part supported by the later works of Pelagians who seemed to be attacking the brutality of the Theodosian Code: Myres, ‘Pelagius’, 27. 18 Itinerarium Kambriae, 119–20; trans., Thorpe, 179. 19 Itinerarium Kambriae, 15; trans., Thorpe, 76.

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for having been so slow to do so’.20 Keeping the archbishop waiting for a day may have been part of a deftly crafted act of symbolic defiance, which showed that he took exception to the archbishop’s intrusion into his lands; Gruffydd’s apology on arrival then showed his commitment to the mission, and eased his relationship with the archbishop; the snub had, after all, already been made. In this way, he succeeded in both supporting the crusade message behind the tour, and registering his exception at the archbishop’s intrusion. Gerald tells us of the difficulty Baldwin had in Anglesey in recruiting members of Rhodri ab Owain Gwynedd’s household for his cause. The Archbishop gave a sermon, and so did Alexander, the local Archdeacon, who acted as our interpreter, and Seisyll, Abbot of Strata Florida. Many of the common people were persuaded to take the Cross. A band of youths who formed part of Rhodri’s household sat on a rock facing us. The Archbishop addressed them personally . . . not one of them could be persuaded.21 Baldwin may have had some success with the ‘common people’, but failed to convince the members of Rhodri’s household. The fact that he singled them out for attention suggests that he particularly wished for their participation, perhaps for the military skills they would provide. Several days later, after a fight with some local thieves in which they were soundly beaten, the youths changed their minds, but their initial refusal to take the Cross shows that Baldwin’s sermons were not greeted with universal enthusiasm. Although they had a change of heart, they had already demonstrated that they were unimpressed by both the archbishop’s authority and his preaching; it seems that it was only fear that their refusal had offended God, and not the archbishop, that led them to take the Cross. These youths were not the only Welshmen left unmoved by the archbishop: Owain Cyfeiliog, prince of Powys, refused to meet Baldwin and was duly excommunicated. Owain was in fact on good terms with the English king, with whom he joked and feasted at Shrewsbury,22 was fluent in English and mixed with English border society. His refusal to meet with the archbishop can be seen as a snub to both the crusade mission and to Baldwin’s authority. This does not necessarily mean Owain was disinterested in crusading. Baldwin’s tour did not pass through any of his lands, Tegeingl in the north having been conquered by Gwynedd in 1165, and so he did not have to act as host and guide as Rhys and Gruffydd did.23 It is possible that his failure to attend on the archbishop had more to do with his relationship with the other Welsh princes than with either Baldwin or Henry II. Although in previous years Owain had allied himself with other Welsh princes, from the 1170s onwards he linked himself to the English king in order to obtain support for his dominance in southern Powys.24 As Gerald put it, Owain ‘frequently opposed the plans of his own leaders and had espoused the cause of Henry II’.25 20 21 22 23

Itinerarium Kambriae, 123; trans., Thorpe, 182. Itinerarium Kambriae, 126; trans., Thorpe, 185–6. Itinerarium Kambriae, 145; trans., Thorpe, 203. Brut y Tywysogyon, or the Chronicle of the Princes, Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. and trans. Thomas Jones (Cardiff, 1955) [hereafter Brut RBH], 145. 24 Brut Pen., 63, 73; Brut RBH, 144–5, 170–1. Relations between Owain Cyfeiliog and the other princes had been notably strained in the twenty years preceding the archbishop’s visit. In 1167 Owain Cyfeiliog was attacked by Cadwaladr and Owain ap Gruffydd and the Lord Rhys, the latter of whom he was forced to submit to in 1171. Ibid., 149, 153. 25 Itinerarium Kambriae, 144; trans., Thorpe, 202–3.

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An initial analysis of Gerald’s Itinerarium reads as if all Welsh princes except Owain were enthusiastic supporters of the Third Crusade. Gerald lists those Baldwin met, including three princes of the dynasty of Gwynedd, four of Deheubarth and two from Powys. However, despite their meetings with the archbishop only three are said by Gerald to have taken the Cross, the Lord Rhys, Einion ab Einion Clud and Maelgwn ap Cadwallon, the last two of whom were from a lesser Welsh dynasty.26 Rhys’s son Maelgwn did lend his support to Baldwin, but even then, it was only to ‘accompany the Archbishop to the King’s court, and that once there he would abide by their advice’.27 The Itinerary shows that few, if any, went as far as to show a solid devotion to the crusade. Their lack of commitment is notable when it is considered that they would have formed Baldwin’s target audience – fighting men who posed a problem for the English Crown, and whose participation would spur the recruitment of other Welshmen. Spending time in the archbishop’s entourage should have left them open to almost continuous attempts at recruitment, yet Baldwin seems to have had little success. It therefore seems most likely that their presence in Baldwin’s train was more a way of keeping check on the ambitions of the English secular and ecclesiastical powers in Wales whilst affording the archbishop the respect he would expect whilst touring these lands, and not a response to the preaching of the Cross.28 Support for the archbishop was not only weak among the majority of the Welsh princes. It was also minimal from the Welsh nobility, as seen at Anglesey, and from the Welsh clergy who, with the exception of Bishop Reiner and those who accompanied Baldwin on tour, appear to have made very little effort to help in promoting the crusade message. Gwion, bishop of Bangor, a Welshman, was notably opposed to crusade participation and had to be all but forced into taking the Cross.29 Those who did support Baldwin, with the exception of Seisyll, abbot of Strata Florida, appear to have been of Norman origin. The places they chose to stay each night were also predominantly Norman held, or in the lands of the friendly Lord Rhys:30 Cruker, Hay, Usk, Haverfordwest and Carmarthen castles appear to have been in Norman hands, and Margam Abbey was a Norman foundation. Even at Nevern Castle, in the lands of the Lord Rhys, their host was the Norman Robert FitzMartin, Lord of Cemais, who had married Rhys’s daughter, Angharad. The lukewarm response of the native Welsh did not necessarily mean they were 26

They hailed from Rhwng Gwy a Hafren in Eastern Wales (between the Wye and the Severn), an area that had originally been the fourth ‘kingdom’ of Wales. By the time of Baldwin’s tour the power of this ‘kingdom’, known as Cynllibiwg, was in decline. Einion ab Einion Clud was married to one of the Lord Rhys’s daughters. 27 Itinerarium Kambriae, 119; trans., Thorpe, 179. 28 Princely resistance to the encroachment of English ecclesiastical power in Wales tended to exhibit itself in disputes over the appointment of English bishops to Welsh sees, and did not notably refer to the conflict over the status of St David’s. Davies, The Age of Conquest, 179–80. Gerald of Wales however claimed that all of the princes bar Owain Cyfeiliog supported the claims of St David’s, ‘that he might appease the Archbishop and the English whom he joined against Llywelyn’: H.E. Butler, The Autobiography of Giraldus Cambrensis (London, 1937), 250. Gruffydd ap Cynan, despite his dispute over the appointment of Bishop Herve, still described Bangor as a daughter of Canterbury when writing to the archbishop (‘quia filia est vestre matris ecclesie’): The Acts of Welsh Rulers 1120–1283, ed. Huw Pryce, with Charles Insey (Cardiff, 2005), 321. It is possible that a letter sent to Innocent III complaining of the appointment of English bishops and referring to the elevated status of St David’s showed the views of the princes, but as the letter was probably drafted by Gerald of Wales and it is uncertain whether the princes actually supported its contents, its evidence is not conclusive. See ibid., 368–71, for the text of the letter and a discussion of its authenticity. 29 Itinerarium Kambriae, 125; trans., Thorpe, 185. 30 Although Gerald does not always clearly state in his text where the preaching party stayed each night, it is possible to determine where they are likely to have been lodged.

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uninterested in crusading, as the enthusiasm of Rhys shows, but the relationship between England and the native Welsh complicated their willingness to take action. While they thus extended their hospitality to the archbishop, and encouraged and supported others who were willing to go, for many of them the reality of embarking upon a crusade was never going to materialise. They saw that the tour was partly aimed at reminding them of the authority of the English king, and responded accordingly. In addition to this, the internal politics of the principalities made departure for many of the princes difficult; in Powys, for example, the division of lands between several co-heirs, meant that the absence of any one of them would have laid his lands open to attack. Although attending on the archbishop was a way of checking English intentions in Wales, extending hospitality to Baldwin also ensured that in the future the princes could use their record of good conduct when appealing for support from the English Church and Crown. It was also an opportunity for the Welsh princes to monitor what their rivals were doing. It is worth remembering, after all, that throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the Welsh princes were to be found fighting each other as much as they were the English Crown, or the Marcher Lords. The reasons for the differing reactions in north and south Wales had much to do with the power, authority and control that Henry II exerted in the different parts of the country. In the south, the Normans had conquered the lands now known as Marchia Wallia (the March of Wales) relatively early, and their influence was more prevalent. The dioceses of Llandaff and St David’s were also more closely linked with England. Although the appointees to the northern bishoprics of Bangor and St Asaph had professed obedience to Canterbury by the time of the tour,31 for the previous century the bishops’ influence in Gwynedd had been somewhat limited, largely because the Welsh controlled the bishoprics and strongly resisted the imposition of the king’s nominees. This was essentially due to the authority of Owain Gwynedd; he resented what Walker called ‘the strains of double a allegiance’ that meant the bishops gave divided loyalty to himself and the English king. Owain thus sought to control the bishopric of Bangor through the appointment of his own nominees, one of whom he threatened to have consecrated in Ireland.32 In 1177, seven years after Owain’s death, a bishop was finally appointed, but even then he was a Welshman. In the diocese of St Asaph, matters were no better, as Bishop Geoffrey chose to exercise his influence from Abingdon rather than live with the hostile Welsh.33 Bishop Reiner was finally appointed two years before the archbishop undertook his tour, but decades of absentee bishops and ineffectual leadership meant that in the northern principality the bishops did not have the influence they perhaps enjoyed in St David’s and Llandaff. The southern dioceses were fortunate in that at the beginning of the twelfth century both had seen the appointment of bishops who were influential and successful in bringing the Church in Wales closer to both Rome and Canterbury;34 it was Urban of Llandaff who set the precedent by being the first Welsh bishop to profess obedience to Canterbury in 1107.35 The greater English influence along the

31 32

Canterbury Professions, ed. Michael Richter (Torquay, 1973), 54 (no. 110), 56 (no. 123). David Walker, ‘The Welsh Church in the Middle Ages’, in A History of the Church in Wales, ed. David Walker (Penarth, 1976), 24–53, esp. 27. 33 The absentee rule of successive bishops of St Asaph is put into context in Paul Barbier, The Age of Owain Gwynedd (London, 1908),122–3. 34 Walker, ‘The Welsh Church’, 28–9. 35 For Urban’s career, and especially his dealings with Rome and Canterbury, see David Crouch, ‘Urban: First Bishop of Llandaff 1107–34’, Journal of Welsh Ecclesiastical History 6 (1989) 1–15.

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southern coast of Wales where the tour progressed, together with the closer links with the English Church and Crown fostered by the diocesan heads, meant that the response to the archbishop was bound to be as different in Brycheiniog, Glamorgan and Deheubarth, as it was in Gwynedd. In addition, Rhys’s friendship with Henry II must have helped matters to some degree when Baldwin was recruiting in Deheubarth, as he had a better relationship with the English king than his northern counterparts. Furthermore, the south had a more mixed population, many of whom would have been open to Baldwin’s proposition in a way that the native population was not. The Norman settlers are specifically mentioned as forming a large proportion of the archbishop’s audience at Llandaff.36 At Haverfordwest, where Gerald claimed that crusade preaching had its greatest success,37 a large percentage of the audience would undoubtedly have been of Flemish descent; the Flemings had settled in Haverfordwest at the beginning of the twelfth century, and maintained a large measure of control in the area. As such, the Anglo-Norman and Flemish settlers would have provided a measure of support for Archbishop Baldwin, even if the Welsh met his arrival with less enthusiasm. In Gwynedd, in Pura Wallia, Welsh resistance was at its strongest, and any attempts by the English Crown or the archdiocese of Canterbury to exert their authority would not have been favourably received. Baldwin did not help matters in Gwynedd by deciding to have the body of Owain Gwynedd exhumed. On his return to Bangor he was shown the prince’s tomb, and on remembering that Owain had been excommunicated, ‘ordered [the Bishop of Bangor] to watch for an opportunity of removing his body from the cathedral and to do so as quickly as possible’.38 The fact that the archbishop advised him to wait for the right ‘opportunity’ shows that Baldwin was aware that his request would not be met with a positive response in Gwynedd. Jones commented that ‘from the Welsh standpoint Baldwin did unwisely to order the removal of Owain Gwynedd’s body’ from its resting place at Bangor.39 Admittedly, Owain should not have been buried in the cathedral, as he died excommunicate. By ordering the bishop of Bangor to remove Owain’s body Baldwin was showing that the Welsh episcopacy were incapable of enforcing the law of the Church in Wales, and that they needed Canterbury’s guiding hand. In fairness, Baldwin had a duty to ensure that the Church in Gwynedd adhered to doctrine as it did fall under his authority. However, no matter how just Baldwin’s decision was, it did not help his cause. Owain Gwynedd had been respected as ‘a man of great renown and of infinite prudence and nobility, the bulwark and strength of Wales’40 and the removal of his tomb by the archbishop could not have failed to lose his crusade mission support in Gwynedd. Baldwin’s tour was not a triumph then either in terms of recruitment or in extending authority over Wales. Gerald claimed that 3,000 men took the Cross in Wales, although lack of financing and delays caused by arguments among the leaders prevented most from taking part in the crusade.41 Baldwin’s efforts to enlist the native princes proved fruitless, not least because his attempts to impose authority were often executed tactlessly. It was perhaps for this reason that the English did not 36 37 38 39

Itinerarium Kambriae, 67; trans., Thorpe, 126. Itinerarium Kambriae, 93; trans., Thorpe, 141. Itinerarium Kambriae, 133; trans., Thorpe, 192. Thomas Jones, ‘Gerald the Welshman’s Itinerary and Description of Wales: An Appreciation and Analysis’, National Library of Wales Journal vi (1949–50), 117–48, 197–222, esp. 126. 40 Brut RBH, 151. 41 Itinerarium Kambriae, 147; trans Thorpe, 205.

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try to remove the troublesome Welsh by using the crusade until almost one hundred years later.42 Instead, the theoretical elements of the crusade were employed in dealings with the Welsh princes. In May 1236, for example, Pope Gregory IX wrote to the archbishop of Canterbury, calling on him to: ‘compel Lewelin, lord of Wales, to observe the truce made between him and king Henry, according to the pope’s orders that there should be peace throughout the world for four years, for the sake of the Holy Land’.43 II The preaching tour of 1188 may not have been a roaring success, but it did lay the groundwork for the offer Archbishop Pecham made to Dafydd ap Gruffydd in 1282. The episode is particularly well documented, as both Pecham’s proposal and a note of Dafydd’s reply survive. Although the episode has been considered in the context of peace-brokering in Europe,44 and with Anglo-Welsh relations during the Edwardian Conquest,45 it has not been put into context over a longer period of time, which considers the development in the use of the crusade in dealings with Wales. If Baldwin’s attempts to remove troublesome Welshmen by sending them on crusade were hidden by the more general requests for aid called for by his tour, Pecham’s was far more direct. In the autumn of 1282, despite Edward I’s opposition, he wrote to both Dafydd and his brother Owain offering them terms of surrender. To Owain, he offered land and an earldom. To Dafydd, he proposed the idea of going on crusade to the Holy Land, where he would ‘be provided for in favourable terms according to his status, on condition that he does not return unless called by the royal court’s mercy he is called back’. Pecham ended by saying that during his absence he would ‘subdue at his will for the Welsh, every danger that threatened them’.46 Pecham’s stated aim may have been to end the conflict in Gwynedd, but his attitude to the Welsh was more complex than that, and his offer to Dafydd was not just the result of his desire to end the bloodshed. Pecham wanted greater control of the four dioceses, and wanted them reformed in line with the Church in England: as Douie put it Pecham, ‘desirous of consolidating his own authority over the Welsh dioceses, could only regard the complete English conquest of Wales as a blessing to both peoples’.47 His attitude towards the Welsh was clear only two years after Edward completed his conquest. In 1284 Pecham toured Wales, once again to reinforce the authority of

42

The English Crown was, however, happy to support those who would go to the Holy Land. In June 1235 Henry III ordered his treasurer to give Llywelyn’s steward, Ednyfed Fychan, a silver cup as a gift on his way to the Holy Land (although it seems this was cancelled), and ensured that the steward received safe conduct through England: CCR 1234–47, 101; CPR 1232–7, 108. 43 Les Registres de Grégoire IX, ed. Lucien Auvray, II (Paris, 1907), no. 3134. Gregory’s request for peace for the sake of the Holy Land was common: in 1224 the French king was asked to maintain a truce with England for this reason, and in 1231 Henry III was asked to do the same in return. Ibid., 98, 127. 44 Björn Weiler. ‘The Negotium Terrae Sanctae in the Political Discourse of Latin Christendom, c.1215–1311’, The International History Review XXV (2003), 1–36. 45 Davies, Age of Conquest, 351–2. 46 Registrum Epistolarum Fratris Johannis Peckham, Archiepiscopi Cantuariensi, ed. Charles Trice Martin, II (London, 1884), 467. 47 Decima L. Douie, Archbishop Pecham (Oxford, 1952), 236.

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Canterbury, but also to show the superiority of English to the Welsh, whose children he suggested be sent to England in order to be educated.48 In 1282, Dafydd’s response was less than favourable. Pecham was told: When he will wish to go to the Holy Land, this he will do voluntarily after taking a vow for God, and not for men. Induced against his will, he will not be sent to foreign lands for God, for which forced slavery God will be further displeased. And if he assists of his own accord to go to the Holy Land, commanded by good wishes, he and his heirs should not be disinherited; on the contrary they should obtain a reward. Moreover, he says that his first duty is to defend his own inheritance, rights, and liberties, and that it is the king makes war for profit, and invaded the lands of our country . . . and for this they believe that their war is just, and hope that God will wish to help them.49 Perhaps Dafydd should have taken the Cross in order to gain papal support against Edward I. In 1215, King John had done so to secure Innocent III’s aid in his dispute with the barons, who were supported by Louis of France;50 he gained temporal as well as spiritual benefits, and the barons faced excommunication if they interfered with John’s declared intention to crusade.51 Admittedly, this did not deter the barons, as they were fully aware of what John was trying to do, but it did buy him some time: the respites he gained as a crusader proved valuable in his dealings with the barons. Henry III also used the crusade in this way – in 1250, he had taken the Cross in order to reinforce his position against the crusader king, Louis IX, and in 1254 he agreed to take part in Alfonso’s African crusade as a way of maintaining Anglo-Castilian relations.52 The crusade was to be invoked by both sides, too, in Henry III’s dispute with Simon de Montfort. So, why then did Dafydd not take the Cross? Admittedly, the proposition put to him by Pecham would leave Dafydd in the Near East at the King’s mercy, but he could, like John and Henry, have taken the Cross and then never set out for the East. Accepting Pecham’s terms would also have been seen as surrender, and Dafydd probably thought that the dispute with Edward would end in truce as it had in the past; it is certainly highly doubtful that he could have envisaged the gruesome fate that awaited him, as hanging, drawing and quartering had not been used before as a state punishment.53 It is most likely that Dafydd could see Pecham’s offer for what it was – a way of removing him from Gwynedd while the English king conquered his lands and disinherited him – and Dafydd was unlikely to leave if it meant that he would suffer such losses at home.54 The arch48

David Carpenter, The Struggle for Mastery: The Penguin History of Britain 1066–1284 (London, 2004), 513. 49 Registrum Johannis Peckham, 471. 50 Lloyd, ‘Political Crusades’, 114. 51 By the time John took the Cross, a truce had already been agreed with Philip Augustus of France, and so it seems that his decision in March 1215 was a response to the threat of domestic unrest supported by the French, and not foreign invasion itself. C.R. Cheney and W.H. Semple, Selected Letters of Innocent III concerning England 1198–1216 (London, 1953), 192, 207–8. 52 J.M.R. Garcia, ‘Henry III (1216–1272), Alfonso X (1252–1284), and the Crusading Plans of the Thirteenth Century (1245–1272)’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III (1216–1272), ed. B. Weiler with I.W. Rowland (Aldershot, 2002), 99–120, esp. 101, 104. 53 A.D. Carr, ‘ “The Last and Weakest of his Line”: Dafydd ap Gruffydd, the Last Prince of Wales’, Welsh Historical Review 19 (1999), 375–99, esp. 393; J.G. Bellamy, The Law of Treason in England in the Later Middles Ages (Cambridge, 1990), 23–7. 54 For crusade as a method of settling disputes, and the problems therein, see Weiler, ‘The Negotium Terrae Sanctae’, 13–15.

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bishop may have promised to ‘suppress . . . all dangers that are threatening for the Welsh’, but he was making his offer to Dafydd in opposition to Edward, and it was unlikely that the latter would be willing to hold to the archbishop’s promises. It is also possible that Dafydd was concerned that he would lose his claim to be prince of Wales, in the event of Llywelyn’s defeat. Besides that, agreeing to go on crusade at the king’s expense, and returning only at his behest, would have been akin to admitting Edward I’s superiority and control over the Welsh prince. Dafydd’s reaction to Pecham’s offer, and his failure to exploit the opportunity it presented to him, highlights an aspect of the Welsh attitude to the crusade that robbed them of what could have proved a useful political weapon in the battle for power and authority between the English Crown and Church, and Welsh princes and bishops. In 1201, Gerald of Wales took the Cross for the second time, according to Pope Innocent III, ‘so that he could conduct more freely the case in which he was engaged for the church of St David’s’.55 Elsewhere in the Isles men had used the crusade as a bargaining tool, or to gain support from the papacy, as was the case with John and Henry III. Gilbert de Clare took a vow to embark upon crusade in 1270, as it was hoped that his participation would end the animosity that had been growing between himself and the Lord Edward.56 There was nothing to stop Dafydd from attempting to do the same; judging from the way in which he was forced to beg for peace, it would probably have been a shrewd move. The control extended by Canterbury and the English Crown did not just apply to recruitment and diocesan supremacy. As with many struggles for power, money played its part: who had it, who had the right to demand it, who collected it, and who spent it. Collecting finance from Wales had often been related to the power her eastern neighbour could hope to exert. In pre-Norman Britain, for example, although Peter’s pence was paid by the Anglo-Saxon kings, it was never collected from any of the Welsh kings, probably because, Lunt argues, ‘no Anglo-Saxon king . . . possessed sufficient political control in Wales to have compelled the Welsh to pay’.57 By the time of Baldwin’s preaching tour in 1188 control and organisation were improving, although the Saladin Tithe was still not collected in Wales; the poor economy of the country and Henry II’s desire for troops probably had more to do with this than the technicalities of financing itself, as money was certainly collected from the Welsh in 1193 to pay King Richard’s ransom.58 Under Innocent III financial collections from Wales began to be the same as they were elsewhere, although these tended to be controlled by English bishops, whereas local bishops were used in Scotland and Ireland.59 At other times the Military Orders were used to collect

55 56

C.R. Cheney, Innocent III and England (Stuttgart, 1976), 254–5. Simon Lloyd, ‘Gilbert de Clare, Richard of Cornwall and the Lord Edward’s Crusade’, Nottingham Medieval Studies xxx (1986), 46–63. 57 William E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England to 1327 (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), 19. 58 Brut Pen., 74; Brut RBH, 173. Asking for armed service instead of payment from Wales continued event after the Edwardian Conquest; from 1290 to 1327 England was taxed fourteen times, but Wales only three times. The same was also true of Ireland. See Joseph R. Strayer, ‘Taxation and Community in Wales and Ireland’, Speculum 29 (1954), 410–16, esp. 411. Peter Edbury has argued that the difficulties of collecting from lands with such divided and numerous leadership dissuaded Henry from collecting the Tithe in Wales and the Marches, although as money was collected in 1193 it seems that this was only a contributory factor to his decision and that the recruitment of men instead was perhaps foremost in his mind. Edbury, ‘Preaching the Crusade in Wales’, 221–33. 59 In 1213, for example, the chancellor and the archdeacon of London, were responsible for collection ‘in various provinces and dioceses’, whereas the archbishop of Dublin and abbot of Mellifont were

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monies.60 However, it should be remembered that the collection of money after 1199 was coordinated by the papacy, and as such the control of England over Wales was not as important as it had been at the time of the Third Crusade. The organisation and collection of money, and the promotion of the Cross, were thus not functions usually carried out by the rulers of the four dioceses. Instead, power was devolved from the pope to either an English figure or the papal legate. For much of the thirteenth century the bishop of Worcester was called upon to fulfil this role.61 Wales was not always specifically mentioned, although it can be assumed that, with collections being stipulated for Scotland and Ireland, lands in the dioceses of St David’s, Bangor, St Asaph and Llandaff were automatically assumed to be in the jurisdiction of the English collectors.62 At other times, as in 1254, the English king appointed a collector to Wales.63 In 1263, however, Urban IV changed this by addressing his bulls regarding the crusade to Richard of Carew, bishop of St David’s.64 As from England and Scotland, Urban IV requested a hundredth of clerical incomes for five years,65 as well as the fulfilment of any outstanding crusade vows.66 Matthews, editing the bulls in 1910, saw their address to Richard as proof that the papacy ‘regarded the Diocese of Menevia [St David’s] as the premier see of Wales’.67 Whilst it is fair to say that the supremacy of St David’s in Wales over the other cathedrals appears to have been addressed here, it does not mean that recognition of St David’s status in relation to Llandaff, Bangor and St Asaph was also an agreement of the former’s claim for metropolitan status. Urban IV probably realised that if he wanted the same degree of support from Wales as from England, Scotland and Ireland he would do better to appoint someone who was already familiar with Wales to complete the task. Geographical proximity to the intended areas of collection would theoretically aid the process; in 1202 the bishop of Worcester had complained to the pope that the hostility along the border made it virtually impossible to bring suits as people could not appear before him.68 Warfare and hostility would, in all likelihood, have affected the collection of crusade aid in the same way. Urban IV’s decision to address his bulls directly to St David’s is something of a double-edged sword. It did mark a change in papal attitudes towards the Welsh see, but it was no great watershed for Welsh ecclesiastical independence. Bishop Walter of Worcester was still appointed to travel ‘on the business of the crusade’ to, among other places, Wales,69 showing that even if the initial organisation of the crusade was

responsible for Ireland, the bishops of St Andrews and Glasgow for Scotland. See Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland, Papal Letters, Vol I. 1198–1304, ed. W.H. Bliss (London, 1893), 38. 60 Ibid., 383. 61 Lunt, Financial Relations, 446. The bishop of Worcester was also called on to ensure that papal decrees, such as the sentence of interdict in 1207, were observed by the Welsh bishoprics. Cheney and Semple, Selected Letters, 96. 62 Bliss, Calendar of Entries, 38. 63 Haddan and Stubbs, Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents, 481. 64 The bulls are printed in Welsh Records in Paris, ed. T. Matthews (Carmarthen, 1910), 59–74. Why the papacy moved this responsibility away from the bishop of Worcester is uncertain, although it is possible that the increased role taken by the bishop in crusading activities in the 1260s meant that he was unable to supervise Wales as well as lands in England. Susan Jane Davies, ‘Studies in the Administration of the Diocese of Worcester in the Thirteenth Century’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Aberystwyth, 1971), 39–40. 65 Ibid., 59; Bliss, Calendar of Entries, 394. 66 Matthews, Welsh Records, 60. 67 Ibid., xx. 68 Bliss, Calendar of Entries, 10. 69 Ibid., 394–5.

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to be devolved to the provinces, the final collection of money and co-ordination of ‘business’ was to be coordinated by the bishop of Worcester. It is entirely possible that the shift in responsibility for organising crusading matters from Worcester to St David’s was actually part of an attempt to increase control, not from England, but from the papacy. At only one time did the English king overtly use crusade finance for his own goals in Wales. In the early 1280s Edward I placed a restriction on the money collected through the crusade tax leaving the kingdom. Edward said that his fear was that the money intended for the Holy Land would be taken by criminals, but it is more likely that he needed the money to finance his wars with Gwynedd. This must have been the case, as in 1283 Archbishop Pecham wrote to the pope in order to inform him that the sum of money spent by the king had been repaid.70 Admittedly the sum of money he used in his conflict with Wales from the crusade coffers must have been small as it only took him two months to repay the debt.71 However, the fact that Edward could control this money for his own ends must have added insult to injury for the Welsh. The money had been collected from Wales as well as England, Scotland and Ireland,72 and so in effect Edward was using Welsh contributions to the crusade to bolster his attack on Gwynedd. Scotland was far more adept at playing a political game when it came to requests for aid for the Holy Land. At the same time as Baldwin was touring Wales, Hugh du Puiset was dispatched to Scotland in order to insist that the Saladin Tithe be paid. King William refused to pay the Tithe until he had secured the return of certain Scottish royal castles. This was duly achieved in the ‘Quit-Claim of Canterbury’. The Tithe was not collected from the Welsh, largely because Henry II wanted Welsh fighters instead. Admittedly, this removed a financial bargaining point in 1188, but Baldwin’s tour must have made it clear to the Welsh that the English king expected their involvement. As such, it is unfortunate that they did not use their position to gain concessions from either Henry II or Richard I. The inhabitants of both Pura and Marchia Wallia were asked several times to contribute financially to the crusade in the following century, but there is no record of any attempts to oppose the money-collectors; the Scots, by contrast, once again used this to their advantage. In the early 1270s Edward I was awarded a tenth for his crusade. It was collected in Wales without opposition, but in Scotland the tithe would only be paid with the consent of the Scottish king and his promise to participate. In 1290, when Edward I was determined to show his power over the Scots, he demanded Tithe money from the Scottish Church. This they refused to pay despite the threat of excommunication. ‘Nonpayment’, observes Tyerman, ‘became a symbol of Scottish independence’.73 Not so in Wales. For much of the thirteenth century Wales was in a position of relative strength, yet failed ever to capitalise on the requests of her eastern neighbour. In Scotland the idea of the crusade was also used as a tool of propaganda in the struggle against Edward I’s ambitions. In 1296 a Scottish clergyman drummed up support for opposition to Edward by claiming that ‘to fight against Edward I was more justified than fighting against the Saracens’.74 In the Declaration of Arbroath (1320) the Scots also complained that they would happily embark upon a crusade of 70 71 72 73 74

Regsitrum Johannis Peckham, 638–9. Lunt, Financial Relations, 336. Bliss, Calendar of Entries, 475, 476. Christopher Tyerman, England and the Crusades 1095–1560 (Chicago, 1988), 330. Chronicon de Lanercost, ed. J. Stevenson (Edinburgh, 1839), 165–6.

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their own if the English would leave them in peace. The imagery of Crusade and tales associated with crusading activities, such as those of Charlemagne, were linked to the Scottish struggle for independence in an effort to both garner Scottish support at a time when calls for crusade participation were renewed, and to cast the struggle for Scottish freedom in a crusading light.75 Simon de Montfort had done the same against Henry III in 1263–5, although admittedly neither won in the end. Nevertheless, this shows that, in Scotland at least, the clergy had a good idea of the importance of the crusade as well as the prejudices and sympathies that underlay any response to requests for aid. Scotland, and indeed Ireland, were in a different position to Wales. Firstly, Scotland was a unified country under one king, instead of a fragmentary and often conflicting group of principalities and, from 1192, and autonomous ecclesiastical unit, in a way that Wales never was. Ireland may not have had the same unity of leadership, but ecclesiastically at least she could claim separation from Canterbury, and thus resist to some degree the ways in which the English used the Church to exert power as it did in Wales: the Synod of Kells in 1152 had created the four archbishoprics in 1152 of Armagh, Tuam, Cashel, and Dublin under the primacy of the archbishop of Armagh.76 Why then did Wales not use the crusade to its advantage in its struggle with both the English Crown and Church, or to control its own troublesome princes? Unlike Scotland, Wales did not have centralised secular rule or ecclesiastical cohesion, so unified opposition was harder to coordinate; piecemeal resistance was never going to have had that strong an impact. However, although the use of the crusade in Wales was not as organised as in Scotland, the Welsh did try at times to manipulate its use. Gerald’s Itinerary suggests that in 1188 the Welsh princes, at any rate, were becoming aware of the benefits of crusade. Sir John Lloyd observed that it was the ‘adroit manoeuvring’ and realisation of how absence on crusade could affect the balance of power that led Gruffydd ap Rhys to encourage his brother Maelgwn to go on crusade.77 If Gruffydd could see the benefits of certain men absenting themselves on crusade, presumably the other princes could see its uses too. They could also have used the crusade to gain papal support; Dafydd ap Llywelyn tried to gain support against Henry III in 1244 by becoming a vassal of Innocent III, and in 1212 Llywelyn had made an alliance with the French king, so the idea of seeking outside aid was hardly alien.78 In 1275 Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, it seems, made a half-hearted attempt to enlist the help of the archbishop and prelates of Canterbury in maintaining Edward’s treaty with Wales, by referring to the decree at the Council of Lyons which had prohibited war between Christians as it hindered plans for the crusade.79 Perhaps the princes’ failure to do so stemmed from their experiences of the crusade; from their point of view it may have appeared as part of Canterbury and the Crown’s attempts to extend their power. Sources show both Welsh Princes and common people were happy enough to go on crusade and support the movement, but 75

For a discussion of the role of crusading in the Scottish wars with Edward I see Alan MacQuarrie, Scotland and the Crusades 1095–1560 (Edinburgh, 1997), 71–2. 76 R.R. Davies, The First English Empire: Power and Identities in the British Isles 1093–1343 (Oxford, 2000), 11–12. 77 Trans. Thorpe, 179 n. 327. 78 Pryce, Acts of Welsh Rulers, 478; R.F. Treharne, ‘The Franco-Welsh Treaty of Alliance in 1212’, Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies xviii (1958), 60–75; Owain Gwynedd had also sought to ally himself to France in the mid 1160s. Pryce, Acts of Welsh Rulers, 324, 327–9; H. Pryce, ‘Owain Gwynedd and Louis VII: The Franco-Welsh Diplomacy of the First Prince of Wales’, WHR 19 (1998), 1–28. 79 Pryce, Acts of Welsh Rulers, 571, 573; Tanner, Decrees, 312.

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appear to have rejected the trappings of power that were associated with the assumption of the Cross for political motives. The most notable change in the way that the English Crown and Church used the crusade in its dealings with the Welsh between 1188 and 1282 was that its intentions were now explicit, where before they had been only implicit, couched in general terms, as when Archbishop Baldwin undertook a wide-ranging tour of Wales. In both instances it was hoped that troublemakers would be removed by sending them on crusade, and at the same time that this would create stability that would allow the English king to travel to the East once his war with the Welsh was over. Dafydd had to be checked somehow for Edward’s departure to become a reality, and sending him on crusade would probably have been the best option. Pecham’s offer in 1282 was more direct as it came from a position of increased power, both for the English Crown and for the Church, and there was no mistaking his intentions. Whereas Baldwin had relied on a good deal of symbolism, through the choices of where he preached, and had tried to use rhetoric and persuasion to remove troublemakers, Pecham got straight to the point. He threatened ecclesiastical censure if Dafydd did not come to peace, by which he meant accept his proposal, and reminded him that he was close to defeat by Edward. In both cases however the princes were suspicious of English intentions, and English lay and ecclesiastical power was largely ignored or, in the case of Dafydd, explicitly rejected. More success was had with financial exactions, which, as far as the evidence suggests, do not appear to have caused any particular opposition. The princes, however, never really woke up to the potential that the crusade provided in terms of resisting invasion, and failed to employ its terminology in the way Scotland did. Then again, nor did England fully appreciate how she might use the crusade in fighting against the Welsh, even though crusading terminology was often invoked against the Scottish and the king’s enemies within England. Edward did complain that the Welsh Wars (and those with Ireland) were hindering his plans to go to the Holy Land in 1276, but in the period leading up to the conquest of Wales he did not use this to call the Welsh an enemy of Christ for distracting him from his goal, as was the case with Scotland.80 Considering the attempts to reform the religious practices in Wales and the perceived corruption of native law, it is certainly strange that the English Crown never saw the potential for couching assaults on Wales in the language of crusade. If Simon de Montfort and Henry III could describe their conflict in such terms, why could not Llywelyn and Edward? Although they did not, the more subtle use of the crusade in these power struggles shows that, although it may have occurred on a smaller scale than elsewhere in Europe, Wales and the Welsh were still affected by the developments in the crusading movement that led to its diversification into a political weapon. The use of the crusade may not have been a success against the Welsh for any of those involved, but it demonstrated that, although she was on the fringes of Christendom, Wales was still affected by events in Rome and the East, as the rest of Europe was. The native Welsh, however, seem only have been willing to support the crusade when it was on their own terms, or participate when they chose of their own will, but were unwilling to do so if it would do anything to enhance the power and authority of the English Crown or Church.

80

Treaty Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office Vol 1: 1236–1325, ed. Pierre Chaplais (London, 1955), no. 153.

A Forgotten War: England and Navarre, 1243–4

Nicholas Vincent War is a theme so central to the history of thirteenth-century England that it is surprising that at least one of the wars fought by King Henry III appears entirely to have escaped the notice of English historians. Yet the war fought in southern Gascony in the 1240s between the supporters of Henry III and those of Theobald I King of Navarre, although briefly noticed by modern Spanish commentators, has elicited virtually no comment from the historians either of England or of Gascony.1 Matthew Paris devoted only a single sentence to the conflict, noting in his chronicle entry for 1244 that Nicholas de Molières, seneschal of Gascony, continued to prosecute war against Navarre and by his manful persistence obtained victory.2 Because modern English accounts are so dependent upon Paris for their narrative of thirteenth-century politics, Paris’s omission of all details here has no doubt played a part in effacing the memory of a dispute which, even in the 1240s, was seen as at best tangential to English concerns. And yet, in the archives, sufficient evidence for this war survives to enable us to reconstruct its features in considerable detail: a reconstruction that, as we shall see, is not without significance for the wider history of English rule in Gascony and the south. My chief source in what follows is a set of rolls detailing the Anglo-Navarrese disputes before, during and after the war of 1243–4, compiled in 1248–9 as part of the arbitration process to which claims for compensation were submitted by King Theobald of Navarre and by Simon de Montfort during his period of rule in Gascony. Stored in the Archivo General de Navarra at Pamplona together with an Anglo-Navarrese treaty of 1309, these rolls were for many years assumed to deal with fourteenth- rather than thirteenth-century disputes.3 The principal English complaints detailed in these rolls are published below as an appendix.4 Those of A Forgotten War: England and Navarre, 1243–4

1

F.M. Powicke, Henry III and the Lord Edward, 2 vols (Oxford, 1947), i. 214, notes merely that Gascony had been disturbed before Simon de Montfort’s arrival in 1248 by Theobald of Navarre’s stirring up of the southern Gascon lords. J.R. Maddicott, Simon de Montfort (Cambridge, 1994), 108, 110–11, is only a little more informative. My first encounter with the documents upon which this paper is based occured in 1996, during a break from a family holiday in Pamplona. For this, and for a subsequent opportunity to study them in more detail, I am indebted to Juliet Tyson and the staff of the newly (and splendidly) rehoused Archivo General de Navarra. For other assistance in the writing of this paper, I am indebted to David Carpenter, Frédéric Boutoulle, John Gillingham, Peter Linehan and, as always, to Judith Everard. 2 CM, iv. 396. 3 Pamplona, Archivo General de Navarra, Comptos Caj.5 no. 39 ii–iv, described in detail below, nn. 123–5, briefly noticed, s.a. 1308, in Archivo General de Navarra: Catálogo de la Sección de Comptos, Documentos I (842–1331), ed. J.R. Castro (Pamplona, 1952), 308–9 nos 693–4. The treaty of 12 March 1309 (Comptos Caj.5 no. 39 i) has since been published in Archivo general de Navarra (1274–1321), I: Documentación real, ed. M.I. Zabalza Aldave, FDMPV 61 (San Sebastian, 1995), 247–9 no. 259. 4 Below, appendix, no. 5.

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Map. The Borders between Navarre and Gascony in the Thirteenth Century.

Theobald of Navarre and his adherents, presented in the Navarrese vernacular, were at first, somewhat confusingly, published as if from a document of 1308.5 All three rolls have since been published in full, in an edition running to more than 50 printed pages.6 Their contents have been abstracted and commented upon by the Basque historian, Eugène Goyheneche,7 and more recently by Susana Herreros Lopetegui, whose interpretation of the war of 1243–4, although the only substantial modern account, differs in several significant respects from the reconstruction supplied below.8 Looking beyond the 1240s, Raquel García Arancón has supplied an excellent account of Anglo-Navarrese relations in the period between 1248 and 1270.9 In what follows, I hope to bring into commission various other evidences from the

5 6

Documentación real, ed. Zabalza Aldave, 242–5 no. 257. Archivo General de Navarra (1234–1253), II: Comptos y cartularios reales, ed. M.R. Garcia Arancón, FDMPV 85 (San Sebastian, 1998), 35–86 nos 34–5. 7 E. Goyheneche, Le Pays Basque: Soule-Labourd-Basse Navarre (Pau, 1979), 77–8, 140, 610, 654, esp. pp. 77–8, a valuable account, but printed without references. 8 S. Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras navarras de Ultrapuertos (siglos XII–XVI) (Pamplona, 1998), 78–85. 9 R. Garcia Arancón, ‘Navarra e Inglaterra a mediados del siglo XIII’, Príncipe de Viana 50 no. 186 (1989), 111–49, noting the war of 1243–4 at p. 111.

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English and French archives to which Spanish historians have enjoyed only limited access, and at the same time to explore the more general context of Anglo-Spanish relations in the mid thirteenth century. As yet another proof of England’s involvement with the wider thirteenth-century European scene, I trust that this enquiry will prove of more than purely antiquarian significance. As an opportunity to investigate some unjustly neglected diplomatic documents, it may also, I hope, raise a number of issues in respect both to the nature of Plantagenet record-keeping and to the political significance of certain diplomatic forms, important not least, as we shall see, for the troubled relations between Simon de Montfort and the English crown. We must begin with the context. Although the Anglo-Norman kings of England enjoyed contacts with Spain and with various of the northern knights who fought on Spanish soil against the Moslems, it was the marriage of Henry Plantagenet to Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1152 which raised Anglo-Spanish relations to a new level of significance. From 1152 onwards, Henry II laid claim to the southernmost parts of Gascony which marched directly with the lands of the kings of Navarre, León, Castile and Aragon. As a result, and given that the Spanish kings desired to extend their authority not only south into Moslem-held territory but north of the Pyrenees into the rich wine-growing and commercially precocious lands of Gascony and the Languedoc, Anglo-Spanish diplomacy became crucial to the future of Plantagenet rule in southern France. In what follows, we shall be chiefly concerned with that most southerly part of Gascony lying between the Pyrenees and the river Adour, stretching from the Atlantic coast in the west as far east as the counties of Béarn and Bigorre. All told, this was a territory measuring roughly 60 kilometres from east to west, and 40 north to south, equivalent in extent to the northernmost parts of England lying between Tyne and Tees. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, this part of southern Gascony was famed not for its wealth but for its brigandage, its poor hospitality and its inedible food.10 Those subject to its castellans lived partly from the proceeds of trade and the pilgrimage route to Compostela, and partly from the age-old traditions of transhumant livestock-farming which characterised the entire Pyrenean hinterland, being as much a feature of the Basque country to the west as of the villages of Le Roi Ladurie’s Montaillou to the east. Linguistically, it was a region in which the French, Gascon, Spanish and Basque vernaculars were all employed either in speaking or writing. Crucially too, given the role played elsewhere by religious corporations in invoking and hence in maintaining ducal authority, it was a region of few abbeys or religious houses. In political terms, southern Gascony formed part of the duchy of Aquitaine and as such, in theory at least, passed after 1152 with the inheritance of Eleanor of Aquitaine to her husband, Henry Plantagenet. In practice, however, and with the exception of the city and cathedral chapter of Bayonne later significant to Richard I, there is precious little evidence that Gascony south of the Adour enjoyed any real administrative attachment to the Plantagenet court. Court writers might boast of Henry II’s dominions stretching from Scotland to the Pyrenees, but Henry II himself never travelled further south than Bordeaux. Whatever authority he exercised in the far south was imposed, militarily, by his son, Richard, who from the 1170s onwards, as a northern outsider, sought to re-establish a ducal

10

For contemporary complaints, see The Pilgrim’s Guide to Santiago de Compostela: A Critical Edition, ed. A. Stones and J. Krochalis, 2 vols (London, 1998), ii. 22–7. For a brief introduction to the political history of the region, see J. Boussard, Le Gouvernement d’Henri II Plantagenêt (Paris, 1956), 152–5.

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power structure that had lapsed for at least the preceding half century. From the wilderness of Les Landes southwards to the Pyrenees, and save for the two great commercial centres of Dax and Bayonne, Gascony was dominated by the Plantagenets more in theory than in practice. In terms of physical geography, the Pyrenees represented a formidable barrier. In political and commercial terms, however, they constituted a permeable frontier, breached by merchants, pilgrims, transhumant pastoralists and, as we shall see, by the territorial ambitions of the kings of Spain. It was partly because of this threat from across the mountains that in 1170 Henry II married his daughter Eleanor to King Alfonso VIII of Castile. A few years later, following negotiations begun in August 1176 and concluded in March 1177, he presided over a settlement between Alfonso and Sancho VI of Navarre, Alfonso’s uncle, in which a seven year truce was agreed between the two Spanish kings, following embassies to England by numerous Spanish barons and the bishops of Tarazona, Palencia and Pamplona.11 Henry’s interventions in 1177 were justified on the grounds of his kinship to Alfonso and his desire to establish peace in a region crucial for the success of Christian armies fighting against the Moslems.12 They were also, almost certainly, linked to a campaign into southern Gascony led early in the same year, 1177, by Richard, then duke of Aquitaine, which imposed peace upon the lords of Dax, Bayonne and Bigorre, destroyed a castle that had been built at ‘San Pedro’ (apparently in the region of Cisa north of Roncesvalles, perhaps either St-Pierre-d’Irube or St-Pierre-d’Ibarron), abolished evil customs that had been imposed by the lords of Sorde and Hasparren, and led to Richard’s award of charters to the men of Bayonne and Dax: various of these actions once again being justified on the grounds of Christian necessity: in this instance the necessity of protecting pilgrims making the by now highly fashionable pilgrimage to Compostela.13 As with Henry II’s negotiations with Castile, the real motives for Richard’s southern campaign were political rather than religious and involved the imposition of Plantagenet authority over the frontier region north of the Pyrenees within which the kings of Castile and Navarre had long sought to extend their interests. As Richard Benjamin has shown, Plantagenet involvement with Spain was also related to longstanding disputes over the succession to the county of Toulouse, and it was with Toulouse at the centre of his concerns that in 1185 Richard concluded a peace with the king of Aragon.14 Two years earlier, in 1183, the fiscal accounts of 11

For the marriage, the most substantial account, including the printing of a dower settlement arranged between Alfonso and representatives of Eleanor of Aquitaine at Bordeaux before September 1170, is supplied by J. Gonzalez, El reino de Castilla en la epoca de Alfonso VIII, 3 vols (Madrid, 1960), i. 185–93, iii. 798, noting the ignorance of these arrangements displayed by Anglo-Norman chroniclers who misdate the marriage to 1176. For the peace negotiations of 1176–7, see Howden, Gesta, i. 139–54; Howden, Chronica, ii. 120–31, Henry’s adjudication being reprinted, with full commentary and the identification of place names, by Gonzalez, El reino, ii. 440–3 no. 267, 459–61 no. 279. As early as July 1170, a peace between Castile and Aragon had been made saving Alfonso’s obligations to Henry II ‘quem pro patre habemus’: ibid., ii. 251 no. 147. 12 Howden, Chronica, ii. 130, ‘pacem inter vos ad fidem Christianorum propagandam et ad inimicorum Christi confusionem necessariam fore considerantes . . .’ 13 Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 62, citing Howden, Gesta, i. 131–2; Howden, Chronica, ii. 117–18. For the charters to Bayonne and Dax, see J. Balasque and E. Dulaurens, Études historiques sur la ville de Bayonne, 3 vols (Bayonne, 1862–75), i. 412–18 nos 12–13; Le Livre Noir et les établissements de Dax, ed. F. Abbadie, Archives Historiques de la Gironde 37 (1902), 179. 14 R. Benjamin, ‘A Forty Years War: Toulouse and the Plantagenets, 1156–96’, BIHR 61 (1988), 270–85, and for negotiations between Richard and Aragon, following Richard’s capture of the count of Bigorre at Dax in the summer of 1178, see Howden, Gesta, i. 212–13; Howden, Chronica, ii. 170.

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Catalonia record unspecified negotiations between the king of Aragon and Henry II, perhaps related to Henry’s defence of his southern territories in the face of the rebellion of his eldest son which in turn may have encouraged the king of Aragon in his cultivation of contacts north of the Pyrenees, by 1183 extending his authority from Montpellier to Beziers.15 In all of this, Richard’s dynamic exercise of his authority in Aquitaine was a crucial factor. It was this same southern focus to Richard’s concerns which, as John Gillingham has shown, played a part in his decision not only to carry out an extended tour of southern Gascony on the eve of his departure for Crusade in 1190, once again interfering in the Navarrese-controlled region of Cisa just north of the Pyrenees, but to put aside his betrothal to a daughter of Louis VII of France and instead to seek a Spanish bride.16 By marrying Berengaria, daughter of Sancho VI ‘El Sabio’ of Navarre, at Limasol in May 1191, Richard intended first and foremost to obtain the support of Navarre in defending his interests in Gascony, now threatened not only by the counts of Toulouse but by the kings of Castile, who claimed to have been promised Gascony as the marriage portion of Eleanor, Richard’s sister: a promise, it was later to be claimed, that had been made at the time of Eleanor’s marriage to Alfonso VIII in 1170 and which was intended to come into effect on the death of Richard’s mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine.17 Great doubt surrounds the supposed offer of Gascony as a marriage portion to Eleanor of Castile. Whilst the marriage of Eleanor and Alfonso was sponsored by Henry II with an eye to the potential usefulness of Castile as an ally north of the Pyrenees, in none of the marriages that Henry negotiated for his other daughters – with Henry the Lion of Saxony or with King William II of Sicily – does the king appear to have been prepared to give away land as part of a marriage portion. Instead, he assigned only movable wealth, for the most part, we can assume, in treasure brought in the bridal train at the time that such marriages were solemnised. A similar pattern, in which money but not land was offered, can be observed in respect to the legitimate daughters of King John, the sisters of Henry III, later married to the Emperor Frederick II, to King Alexander II of Scotland and to William Marshal II earl of Pembroke. Although Henry II’s supposed offer of Gascony is specifically referred to in the peace treaty eventually negotiated between King Henry III and Alfonso’s successor in 1254, and although the principal Castilian chronicler states that Alfonso ‘believed’ that he been offered Gascony by Henry II, and that Henry ‘was said’ to have promised Alfonso and Eleanor the land, the conditional language employed here must raise a serious doubt whether the offer was a real one, or one only later invented by Alfonso and Eleanor as a bargaining tool to be used against Henry II’s successors.18 In much the same way, although there is no evidence what-

15

T.N. Bisson, Fiscal Accounts of Catalonia under the Early Count-Kings (1151–1213), 2 vols (Berkeley, 1984), i. 83, ii. 106–7 nos 42–3. 16 For Richard’s southern tour in May–June 1190, in which he is said to have seized the castle of William ‘de Chisi’ (?Cisa/Cize), hanging William in punishment for attacks on pilgrims to Compostela, see Howden, Chronica, iii. 35–6. For his marriage to Berengaria, see J. Gillingham, ‘Richard I and Berengaria of Navarre’, in Gillingham, Richard Coeur de Lion (London, 1994), 119–39, at p. 127 n. 29 seeking to identify ‘Chisi’ as the Col de Cize (alias Cisa), just north of Roncesvalles, the site of a cross which traditionally marked the southern frontier of Aquitaine, and for a detailed description here, see The Pilgrim’s Guide to Santiago, ii. 26–7, 147–8n. 17 The standard account of Henry’s supposed offer is to be found in Gonzalez, El reino, i. 188. 18 For the 1254 renunciation, including a promise to surrender whatever charters the kings of Castile might have in respect to the Plantagenet offer of Gascony, see DD, nos 270, 275. For the chronicle of Juan de Soria, see ‘Chronica Latina Regum Castellae’, c. 17, in Chronica Hispana Saeculi XIII, ed. L. Charlo Brea, J.A. Estévez Sola and R. Carande Herrero, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Medievalis 73

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soever that Henry III intended to offer Northumberland as a marriage portion for his sister, Joan, on her betrothal to Alexander II of Scotland in 1221, precisely this claim was to be made by Alexander as a justification for later hostilities.19 Both on their far southern and their far northern frontiers, it would appear, the Plantagenet kings were subject to claims from neighbouring princes, only too ready to exploit marriage alliances in their attempt to extend their territorial authority. The marriage between Richard and Berengaria was not merely defensive in intent. It also promised benefits to the kings of Navarre: descendants of the counts and dukes of Pamplona who since the 1150s had rapidly extended both their territorial claims and their pretensions to kingly authority over north-western Spain. Putting aside any arrangement of the 1170s whereby Gascony south of the Garonne may have been promised to Castile, in 1191 Richard granted it as dower to Berengaria, to be held by her until the death of Eleanor of Aquitaine when it was to be restored to Richard in return for the transfer to Berengaria of the lands in England, Normandy, Anjou and Poitou currently held in dower by the king’s mother.20 At the same time, apparently as a marriage portion, King Sancho promised Berengaria the lordship and castles of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port and ‘Rocabruna’ (an unidentified site, which Susana Herreros Lopetegui has suggested lay near to Ostabat, in a region disputed between the lords of Dax and Béarn).21 Sancho’s award of these castles, and the apparent acceptance of this award by Richard on behalf of his bride, provide one of our earliest indications of the practical extension of Navarrese claims to territory north of the Pyrenees, into the so-called Ultrapuertos – ‘the lands lying beyond the passes’ – claims which may have stretched back many years but that were tacitly accepted by the Plantagenet king in 1191, apparently as a quid pro quo for the support that Sancho offered Richard against Toulouse and Castile. The intention, to judge from papal arbitration in 1198, appears to have been for Richard and Berengaria to obtain immediate possession of ‘Rocabruna’ and St-Jean.22 In practice, however, and despite the support that he brought to the Plantagenets in Gascony during the period of Richard’s Crusade and captivity, Sancho’s son, Sancho VII, retained both castles, and during the same period commanded the homage and allegiance of the lords of Cisa, in March 1196 obtaining at least some share in the allegiance of Arnald Raymond of Tartas, vicomte of Dax, further extending Navarrese claims to lordship north of the Pyrenees.23 (Turnhout, 1997), 51: ‘quem [Alfonso] sibi credebat de iure competere tanquam sibi promissam ab Henrico rege Anglorum socero suo Alienor . . . cum qua sepedictus rex Henricus dicebatur genero suo, regi Castelle, Vasconiam promisisse’. 19 CM, iii. 372, as drawn to my attention by David Carpenter. 20 Les Registres de Philippe-Auguste, vol. 1, ed. J.W. Baldwin, M. Nortier and others (Paris, 1992), 469–70 no. 28. 21 Sancho’s award is known from the later arbitration by Pope Innocent III: PL 214, col. 182, whence Foedera, I i, 70. For the suggested location of ‘Rocabruna’, see S. Herreros Lopetegui, ‘El castillo de Rocabruna en Ultrapuertos. Una nueva teoría sobre su localización’, Segundo Congreso General de Historia de Navarra: 2. Prehistoria, Historia Antigua, Historia Medieval, Príncipe de Viana 53, extra series 14 (Pamplona, 1992), 381–6; Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 64, 67, 190. 22 PL 214, col. 182, whence Foedera, I i, 70. 23 For the support given by Sancho VII to Richard against the count of Toulouse in 1192, and during the siege of Loches in 1194, see Howden, Chronica, iii. 194, 252–3. For the role played by his brother, Fernando, in the negotiation of Richard’s release from captivity in Germany, Fernando serving briefly as a hostage in Richard’s place, see PR 7 Richard I, 205; PR 8 Richard I, 19–20. For the acquisition of homages by Navarre during the 1190s, see Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 63–8, citing V. Dubarat and J.-B. Daranartz, Un procès entre l’évêché de Bayonne et le monastère de Roncevaux au XIV siècle

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Quite how we are to interpret the arrangements of 1191 remains open to dispute. The Plantagenets’ willingness to use Gascony south of the Garonne as a bargaining counter, in 1191 with Navarre, and perhaps in the 1170s with Castile, might suggest that they were prepared to disembarrass themselves of their most southerly lands, albeit in return for Spanish alliances, the arrangements of 1191 being intended to provide a temporary settlement for Berengaria which in the longer term could be revised, on the death of Eleanor of Aquitaine, so as to ensure the fulfilment of the supposed earlier ‘promise’ of Gascony to Eleanor of Castile. Alternatively, John Gillingham has argued that these arrangements demonstrate the vital significance that Richard continued to attach to southern Gascony.24 Certainly, the archbishop of Auch and the bishop of Bayonne were allotted major roles in Richard’s crusade, whilst there is little to suggest, after 1191, that Richard ever honoured his commitment to hand over Gascony south of the Garonne as dower to his wife or his wife’s Navarrese kinsmen.25 By 1198, indeed, he appears to have been keen to secure the surrender of the Navarrese castles promised to Berengaria by Sancho VI.26 Thereafter, the death of Richard in 1199 leaving no heir by Berengaria, and the subsequent accession and remarriage of King John, brought yet further complications to the already vexed question of Berengaria’s dower. Not only was the offer of Gascony to Berengaria now tacitly rescinded, just as earlier it may have been rescinded in the case of Eleanor of Castile, but after August 1200, following his marriage to Isabella of Angoulême and his assignment of dower to Isabella including the lordship of Château-du-Loir previously promised to Berengaria, John was forced to enter into new arrangements with Navarre.27 In October 1201, Sancho VII offered a treaty with the Plantagenets guaranteeing peace during his own lifetime and assistance against all of John’s enemies save for the Almohad rulers of Morocco with whom, for many years, Navarre had been in negotiation.28 Relations between Navarre and Morocco had indeed reached such a stage that the English chroniclers report the arrangement, never completed, of a marriage between Sancho VII of Navarre and a sister of Yakub of Morocco, supplying an interesting context for the negotiations with the Moslems of North Africa into which King John himself is said to have entered during the period of papal interdict upon England, after 1208.29 The negotiations of 1201 were brought to a successful conclusion following a meeting between King John and King Sancho at Angoulême in February 1202, presided over by John’s father-in-law, count Adomar of Angoulême, at which Sancho now promised a (1332–1335) (Paris, 1926), 111; P. de Marca, Histoire de Béarn, ed. V. Dubarat, 2 vols (Pau, 1894–1912), ii. 222–3; Coleccíon diplomática del rey don Sancho VIII (el Fuerte) de Navarra, ed. C. Marichalar (Pamplona, 1934), no. 7. For ‘Rocabruna’, in January 1194 held by Martin Chipia apparently under Navarrese authority, see Archivo General de Navarra (1134–1194), ed. D. Alegria Suescun, G. Lopetegui Semperena and A. Pescador Medrano, FDMPV 77 (San Sebastian, 1997), 185 no. 140. For the homage rendered by Arnald Raymond of Tartas, see most recently Archivo General de Navarra (1194–1234), ed. J.M. Jimeno Jurio and R. Jimeno Aranguren, FDMPV 89 (San Sebastian, 1998), 15–16 no. 10, made in March 1196 and referring to contemporary negotiations between the kings of Castile, Navarre and Aragon. 24 Gillingham, ‘Richard I and Berengaria’, 124. 25 For the bishops of Auch and Bayonne and the crusade, see Howden, Gesta, ii. 110–11, 115, 128, 134, 140, 153, 167, 181. 26 Hence the papal arbitration, recorded in n. 21 above. 27 For the assignment of dower to Isabella in August 1200, see RC, 74b–75. For the offer of an annual payment of 1000 marks to Berengaria, 150 marks of this being assigned from the rents of Segré in Anjou, the rest from the Norman Exchequer at Caen, made by King John in August 1201, see Foedera, I i, 84. 28 Foedera, I i, 85. 29 For the supposed amorous adventures of Sancho VII in Morocco, see Howden, Chronica, iii. 90–2.

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perpetual alliance (perpetuam confederationem), to supply aid and counsel to John and his heirs against all their potential enemies save for the rulers of Morocco, undertaking not to make peace with John’s enemies or with the kings of Castile or Aragon without John’s approval.30 The occasion for this new treaty was clearly the negotiation of the dower for John’s bride, Isabella of Angoulême, who was promised the lands of Eleanor of Aquitaine previously held in reserve for Berengaria. In place of either Gascony or the dower lands in Normandy, Anjou and Poitou promised her in 1191, Berengaria was offered a cash alternative, whose precise details continued to be contested as late as 1215 when payment was eventually fixed at 1000 marks a year.31 Meanwhile, Castile’s claims to Gascony, dating from the 1170s, go entirely unmentioned in the English sources, although it may be that the marriage which John and his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, negotiated in 1200 between Blanche, the daughter of Alfonso and Eleanor of Castile, and Louis, son of Philip Augustus of France, was intended to serve both as a token of prestige for Castile and as a means of reducing the hostilities between Castile and Navarre that had erupted in the late 1190s, in part, we can assume, over the conflicting claims to Gascony now lodged both with Berengaria of Navarre and Eleanor of Castile.32 The marriage of Louis and Blanche of Castile came less than a year after Sancho VI’s younger daughter, Blanche of Navarre, Berengaria’s sister, had been married to Theobald of Champagne.33 The combined effect of these two marriages, contracted within only a few months of the death of Richard I, was nonetheless to drive both Castile and Navarre increasingly within the orbit of the kings of France, posing a longer-term threat to the Plantagenets should either Castile or Navarre seek to extend its influence northwards into Plantagenet Gascony. In the short term, John’s treaty with Navarre proved remarkably useful to the Plantagenets. In 1204, when the death of Eleanor of Aquitaine coincided with the collapse of Plantagenet lordship in northern France, Alfonso of Castile seized the opportunity to lay claim to the Gascon lands supposedly promised to his wife for the past thirty years. Newly styling himself ‘lord of Gascony’, Alfonso began awarding charters to religious houses south of the Garonne, and in 1205 launched an all-out offensive across the Pyrenees, obtaining the support of the bishops of Dax and Bazas and the lords of Béarn, Orthe and Tartas, seizing the region of Entre-DeuxMers and the towns of Blaye and Bourg north of the Garonne, laying siege to Bordeaux and coming close to the seizure of Bayonne which, virtually alone amongst the towns south of the Garonne, remained loyal to the Plantagenets.34 A total collapse of Plantagenet power appears to have been averted only through the 30

Foedera, I i, 86, and for further details of these negotiations at Angoulême, see Chronique latine de l’abbaye de La Couronne, ed. J.-F.E. Castaigne (Paris, 1864), 69–70, referring to the presence at Angoulême of King Sancho and the bishops of Dax and Pamplona. 31 For the protracted negotiations over Berengaria’s dower, following on from the initial offer of 1000 marks a year first made in 1201 (Foedera, I i, 84), see N. Vincent, ‘Isabella of Angoulême: John’s Jezebel’, in King John: New Interpretations, ed. S.D. Church (Woodbridge, 1999), 186. 32 For Eleanor of Aquitaine’s role in arranging the marriage of Blanche and Louis, see Howden, Chronica, iv. 81, 114–15. 33 Blanche’s marriage to Theobald, apparently at Chartres on 1 July 1199, is noted by Howden, Chronica, iv. 173, and for further details, including a dower settlement witnessed by Queen Adela of France and Berengaria, widow of Richard I, see M.H. d’Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs et des comtes de Champagne, 7 vols (Paris, 1859–69), iv. 89–90; Layettes, i. 204 no. 497. 34 For the most detailed reconstructions of the Castilian invasion, in part dependent upon the ‘Chronica Latina Regum Castellae’, in Chronica Hispana Saeculi XIII, 51, see Y. Renouard, Bordeaux sous les rois d’Angleterre (Bordeaux, 1965), 24–7; Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 73–6; Gonzalez, El reino, i. 864–75, at iii. 335–6 no. 765 printing a charter granted by Alfonso with title as ‘dominus Vasconie’, at

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actions of the men of Bayonne and because of interventions by Sancho of Navarre, who in August 1204 had granted protection to Bayonne saving the fealty that the men of the city owed to King John.35 By May 1206, Alfonso had returned to Spain, according to the chief Castilian chronicler, disgusted with the poverty and disorder that he had found in Gascony whose conquest he is said to have likened to an attempt to plough the sea shore.36 Although this put an end to any immediate threat of armed invasion from Castile, Alfonso did not entirely abandon his claims. A newly discovered charter suggests that, possibly as late as June 1214, at a time when King John was struggling to impose his authority over the Plantagenet lands in Poitou, Alfonso was still prepared to appropriate to himself the title ‘lord of Gascony’, claiming the right, as successor to the dukes of Aquitaine, to confirm grants made to the abbey of Divielle near Dax.37 Navarre’s support for the Plantagenets against Castile in 1205–6 can be fitted within the broader context of Navarrese-Castilian rivalry. It nonetheless remains difficult to determine precisely what benefits the king of Navarre had hoped to reap from the Anglo-Navarrese treaty of 1201–2, unless such benefits lay in a tacit recognition by King John of the continuing extension of Navarrese authority north of the Pyrenees, combined perhaps with reasonable treatment of the claims to compensation by Berengaria and a continuing recognition of the rights of Navarrese merchants to trade in Gascon and English markets. Perhaps too, the threat posed by Castile and Aragon to Navarre was sufficiently severe in the early years of the thirteenth century to persuade King Sancho that a peace with England was worth obtaining, even on less than equitable terms. Peace treaties between Castile, Aragon and Navarre were not obtained until October 1207, and even then were set to last for only five years, being accompanied, in August 1207, by negotiations for a treaty (confederatio) between King John of England and the king of León, presumably intended to protect Plantagenet Gascony against the continued threat from Castile.38 Between 1205 and 1216, save for recording the compensation paid to Navarrese merchants whose goods were seized at the time of King John’s general order for the arrest of all foreign merchants in 1214, and save for the ongoing disputes over the San Sebastian in October 1204, to the bishop and cathedral of Dax, witnessed by the bishops of Bayonne and Bazas, the vicomtes of Béarn, Tartas and Orthe and the count of Armagnac. 35 Documents des archives de la chambre des comptes de Navarre (1196–1384), ed. J.-A. Brutails (Paris, 1890), 3–5 no. 3, also in Archivo General, ed. Jimeno Jurio, 67–8 no. 44, ‘salva tamen in omnibus fidelitate regis Anglie’. Bayonne’s role in opposing the Castilian invasion is referred to in Chronica Hispana Saeculi XIII, 51, and for the burning by Castilian forces of part of Bayonne and for the destruction of various of the town’s ships, apparently during the invasion of 1205, see DD, nos 56, 145, though note, too, the attendance of the bishop of Bayonne upon Alfonso at San Sebastian in October 1204, n. 34 above. 36 Chronica Hispana Saeculi XIII, 52 (‘litus arare’, cf. Virgil, Aeneid, 4.12); Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 76; Renouard, Bordeaux, 26, citing a confirmation charter granted by Alfonso to the abbey of La Sauve-Majeure near Bordeaux (printed by Gonzalez, El reino, iii. 767–70 no. 1030), issued at Burgos on 22 May 1206, witnessed by the bishops of Dax and Bazas and various other Gascon lords, confirming all grants made by the kings of England and the dukes of Aquitaine and referring to Alfonso’s visit to La Sauve-Majeure, presumably during the siege of Bordeaux in the previous year. 37 PRO C61/72 (Gascon Roll 33 Edward III) m. 5, known only from an inspeximus of 1359, printed below, appendix, no. 1. 38 Gonzalez, El reino, i. 869, 873–4, iii. 424–9 no. 813; Foedera, I i, 96, with John proposing to the king of Léon ‘ut vos eo magis ab inimicis vestris et nos a nostris tueamur’. For the context, involving disputes between Castile and León over the dissolution in 1204 of the marriage of Alfonso VIII’s daughter to Alfonso IX of León, not resolved until June 1209 when a new settlement was concluded between the two kings, see J.F. O’Callaghan, ‘Innocent III and the Kingdoms of Castile and León’, in Pope Innocent III and his World, ed. J.C. Moore (Aldershot, 1999), 317–25.

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cash payments owed to Berengaria, our sources are entirely silent on relations between the Plantagenets and Navarre.39 When, in 1212, King John was seeking to establish alliances in Spain and the south as part of his wider strategy to build up allies on the frontiers with Capetian France, it was to King Pedro of Aragon and perhaps to the rulers of Morocco that he looked, rather to the Sancho of Navarre: a strategy that was effectively undone by the destruction of Almohad power at Las Navas de Tolosa in July 1212 and the subsequent defeat and death of King Pedro outside Toulouse, at the battle of Muret in September 1213.40 Rather surprisingly, John’s relations with Navarre do not appear to have been affected by this flirtation with Aragon. As late as 1219, Sancho was still writing to John’s son, Henry III, in friendly terms, to warn him that any accusations brought by the men of Dax against the men of Bayonne were entirely false and that Bayonne remained just as loyal to the Plantagenets as it had proved itself during the Castilian invasion of 1205–6.41 It was at much this time that a permanent institutional link was established between the religious of Navarre and England, with the foundation by the earl of Pembroke, William Marshal II, of a hospital at Charing Cross affiliated to the great pilgrim hospital at Roncesvalles.42 This was one of the first daughter houses of Roncesvalles to be established north of the Pyrenees, and a potent reminder not only of the growing significance to Englishmen of the Compostela pilgrimage route, but of the chivalric concerns of the Marshal, to whom the religious of Roncesvalles would have appealed, at least in part, because of their associations with the legends of Charlemagne and the heroic deeds of Oliver and Roland.43 Our first indication that relations between England and Navarre were under strain does not appear until early in 1224, when, shortly before the Capetian invasion of Poitou, the bishop of Dax is reported to have complained to the Pope of Sancho of Navarre’s occupation of the regions of Arberoue, Roncesvalles and ‘a large part of Gascony’.44 Following the Capetian invasion and the loss of La Rochelle to Louis VIII in the summer of 1224, the men of Bayonne wrote to England, warning King Henry III that they faced an attack from Sancho who, as uncle of the count of Champagne, had now allied himself with the French. The men of Bayonne complained in particular that their city was not properly fortified and that English money would be

39

For the merchants, to whom King John recommended the offer of only limited compensation in 1214, see RLC, i. 142. For the negotiations over Berengaria’s dower, see above, n. 31, and note letters of 1218 offering Berengaria safe conduct through Poitou and Gascony in order that she might visit her brother, King Sancho, in Navarre: PatR 1216–25, 189. 40 ‘Misae Roll 14 John’, in Documents Illustrative of English History in the 13th and 14th Centuries, ed. H. Cole (London, 1844), 249, 259, 262, with commentary in N. Vincent, ‘A Roll of Knights Summoned to Campaign in 1213’, HR 66 (1993), 92, and on English negotiations with the rulers of Morocco, the subject of one of Matthew Paris’s more notorious anecdotes, see CM, ii. 559–64, lent some credence by N. Barbour, ‘The Embassy Sent by King John of England to Miramolin, King of Morocco’, Al-Andalus 25 (1960), 373–81. The ‘Chronica Latina Regum Castellae’, in Chronica Hispana Saeculi XIII, 57, nonetheless notes the presence of the archbishop of Bordeaux and of various lords from the Plantagenet lands in Gascony and Poitou in the Castilian army prior to the great victory at Las Navas de Tolosa. 41 DD, no. 56, and for the accusations brought by Dax, see no. 53. 42 Previous accounts of the Charing Cross hospital have relied upon a confirmation charter by King Henry III, issued in 1232 (CChR 1226–57, 167–8), following the issue of letters of protection for brothers of Roncesvalles seeking alms in England in 1229 (PatR 1225–32, 265), cf. Colección Diplomatica de Santa Mariá de Roncesvalles (1127–1300), ed. M.I. Ostolaza (Pamplona, 1978), 160 no. 75, 166–7 no. 81. 43 For echos of the Roland legend in the later history of the Marshal family, see N. Vincent, Peter des Roches: An Alien in English Politics, 1205–1238 (Cambridge, 1996), 439. 44 DD, no. 136, as part of a more extensive report to Henry III from his envoys to the papal court.

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required if a proper defence were to be mounted.45 In the event, however, no such attack seems to have taken place, whilst the earlier complaints by the bishop of Dax appear to reflect no new extension of power by Navarre but merely resentment at the longstanding authority over the regions of Cisa and Arberoue, in the Ultrapuertos north of the Pyrenees, that the kings of Navarre had assumed since at least the 1190s, resentment that was all the more ironic for coming from the city of Dax, in 1205 one of the first cities of Gascony to throw in its lot with the Spanish invader, Alfonso of Castile. We have depressingly little documentary evidence for Anglo-Navarrese relations during the 1220s and 30s, but what little survives – protections for the brothers of Roncesvalles and for Navarrese wine merchants trading in England in the late 1220s46 – suggests that the accession of Theobald of Champagne as King of Navarre in 1234 did little to alter the status quo. From 1202 until Sancho VII’s death in 1234, Anglo-Navarrese relations had in theory been governed by the perpetual treaty (perpetuam confederationem) negotiated with King John.47 This treaty seems to have lapsed on the accession of Theobald, whereafter relations between Navarre and the Plantagenets became subject to a series of annual truces. Our evidence here is slight, since the principal diplomatic documents that set out these relations have been lost. If they were ever enrolled in England, then they would have appeared on an early precursor of the Treaty Rolls which today survive only fitfully, the earliest recording correspondence of the 19th through to the 21st years of Henry III, after February 1235. Nonetheless, the first surviving Treaty Roll preserves, from June 1235, a renewed assurance (assecuratio) sent by Henry III to Theobald of Navarre, in effect a truce, set to last for a further year beyond the term of the assurance already in force.48 We can assume that these arrangements were renewed thereafter on an annual basis since, even though no such renewal survives, the documents setting out the terms for negotiation between Navarre and England in the mid 1240s refer specifically to arrangements whereby both parties had agreed not to initiate hostilities without providing due warning, a year in advance, that a breach of the truce was imminent.49 A similar arrangement had already appeared in King Sancho’s charter of 1204 offering protection to the men of Bayonne: should Sancho wish to infringe the terms of this charter, he agreed to notify the council of Bayonne three months in advance, thereafter allowing any of the town’s men resident in Navarre a year or more’s grace in which to recover their goods, during which time they would continue to enjoy royal protection.50 Jejune as such details may appear, 45

Ibid., no. 145. Sancho’s supposed new alignment followed shortly after the marriage in August 1223 of Theobald IV, Sancho’s nephew, to Agnes de Beaujeu, a close kinswoman of the Capetian King Louis VIII, as noted in a report to Henry III of England, ibid., no. 140. 46 For merchants, particularly ‘Bon Ami’ of Pamplona, see RLC, ii. 20b, 88, 114b; PatR 1216–25, 494; PatR 1225–32, 4, 242, 386. For the brothers of Roncesvalles, see above, n. 42. 47 Above, n. 30. 48 Treaty Rolls 1234–1325, ed. P. Chaplais (London, 1955), 11 no. 21 (also in Foedera, I i, 217): ‘assecuramus . . . usque ad unum annum postquam predicta assecuratio ex parte nostra dedicetur’. 49 The key references here are supplied in the complaints made in 1248–9 by Theobald (Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 66 no. 35 c. 3, also in Archivo General, ed. Zabalza Aldave, 243 no. 257), claiming that Henry III’s decision to make war in 1244 was all the more grave ‘car todas estas cosas li fueron feytas en tregoa que non deuia ser crebantada ata un ayno enpues que fues desdita’. A similar phrase appears in the letters of Henry III of April 1245 (below, appendix, no. 4), setting out the terms upon which a settlement was to be made in respect to ‘des mesprisures, des domages et des forfaiz d’une part et d’autre en puis que trive fut prise premierement entre nos et lui [Theobald] puis que il fut rois de Navarre, qui ne devoit estre rompue sanz un an de desdit’. 50 Documents, ed. Brutails, 4 no. 3 (also in Archivo General, ed. Jimeno Jurio, 68 no. 44): ‘quando-

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they are in fact a precious indication of the terms upon which diplomatic relations were conducted in the early thirteenth century: all the more precious given our loss of most of the documentary sources by which such arrangements might otherwise be known. In the case of England and Navarre, the most crucial point to be noted is that, from at least 1234, relations were governed by a truce rather than a full treaty of peace. Throughout the 1230s, Theobald continued to acquire the homage and allegiance of various Gascon lords, including Raymond William vicomte of Soule, lord of Mauléon-Licharre, saving his homage to the kings of England, for an annual money fee from Navarre; the lords of Gramont who renewed their homage to Navarre in 1237, and Peter Arnald of Sault de Hasparren, lord of St-Pée for the territory of Orzate in 1238.51 In September 1238, Theobald renewed the protection extended by Sancho VII to the men of Ostabat coming to grind their corn at his mills in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port.52 Theobald by no means abandoned the longer term interests of the kings of Navarre in consolidating their authority north of the Pyrenees. He also established better relations with Castile, through a marriage arranged in October 1234 between his daughter, Blanche, and Alfonso, the eldest son of Fernando III of Castile,53 and, in May 1239, just before sailing for the Holy Land, entered into an agreement with Louis IX of France to regulate the frontiers between France and Champagne.54 By contrast, no formal peace existed between England and Navarre. Nonetheless, given that he had taken vows as a crusader in 1235, almost immediately after his succession as king, Theobald must have been anxious to avoid any serious breach of the prevailing truce.55 During the 1220s and early 1230s, Theobald had shown himself hardly the most loyal subject of the Capetian kings, and there may well have been hopes in England, after 1234, that his distinctly uneasy relations with the French King, Louis IX, could be turned to positive advantage, particularly in 1236 when Theobald, acting to some extent in concert with Henry III’s step-father, Hugh de Lusignan, threatened rebellion against the rule of the Capetian queen-mother, Blanche of Castile, at one time reputed to have been Theobald’s lover.56 After 1234, Theobald’s interests were focussed principally upon his resentments against the kings of France and his plans for a Crusade to the Holy Land: a venture to which Richard of Cornwall, brother of Henry III and titular count of Poitou, was duly recruited and in which Theobald set sail in 1239 in the company of Peter Mauclerk, duke of Brittany, and Aimery de

cumque mihi placuerit datam eis securitatem infringere, faciam hoc scire ante concilium Baione per iii. menses, et homines de Baiona qui tunc fuerint in regno meo et habuerint ibi res suas habeant securitatem unius anni circa personas suas et ad recuperandas interim res quas habuerint in regno meo, et si infra annum non possent eas recuperare, sint etiam amplius securi donec eas recuperarent, nisi illud tantum quod propter defectum iusticie fuerit a partibus nomine pignoris retentum’. 51 Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 77–8, and for the renewal of homage from Arnald William of Gramont, see also Layettes, ii. 351–2 no. 2573. 52 Colección diplomatica de los reyes de Navarra de la dinastia de Champaña. I. Teobaldo I (1234–1253), ed. M. Martin Gonzalez, FDMPV 11 (San Sebastian, 1986), 58 no. 28, also in Documents, ed. Brutails, 7–8 no. 7. 53 Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, no. 9. 54 Monuments historiques, ed. J. Tardif (Paris, 1866), 347 no. 810. 55 Formal notification of Theobald’s vows as a crusader, and formal papal protection for him and his lands, are set out in a series of papal letters, issued between September and December 1235: Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 3–9 nos 2–8. 56 CM, iii. 366, 371. For Theobald’s role in entertaining Henry III’s bride, Eleanor of Provence, on her journey from Provence to England in 1236, and for his reputed relations with Blanche of Castile during the 1220s, see CM, iii. 116, 118–19, 195–6, 335, and the detailed account by E. Berger, Histoire de Blanche de Castille reine de France (Paris, 1895), 144ff.

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Montfort, elder brother of Simon earl of Leicester, both of them French barons with strong connections to the English court. The disastrous progress of their crusade; the capture of Aimery de Montfort at Gaza, and the subsequent decision of Theobald to depart from Joppa two weeks before the arrival of the contingent led by Richard of Cornwall, did little to enhance Theobald’s reputation as a warrior, and may indeed have led to a deterioration in relations between Navarre and England, given that, according to Matthew Paris, Theobald became jealous of Richard of Cornwall’s successful negotiation of the release of French prisoners, including Aimery de Montfort, whose freedom Theobald himself had been unable to obtain.57 It is from this point onwards, indeed, that we have our first indications of an escalation in hostility between Navarre and England that within the next five years was to lead to war. As we have seen, since at least 1234 relations between England and Navarre had been governed by a series of annual truces, renewed on a year by year basis, with both sides agreeing that no hostilities were to be sanctioned during any particular year of truce.58 For our knowledge of the practical application of these arrangements we depend upon the evidence mustered in 1248–9 concerning all breaches of the truce alleged to have taken place since the time of Theobald’s accession as king. Much, but fortunately not all, of this evidence is supplied without reference to dates. Of the dated entries, the very earliest refer to incidents in 1236 and 1238: fairly minor allegations of the seizure of a cow, two bales of cloth and of goods valued at just over 20 livres morlaas (just under £10 sterling), apparently arising from disputes within what had always been regarded as a semi-lawless frontier region, subject to brigandage by local castellans.59 The first serious infringement of the truce is dated to 1239, to the period of Theobald’s crusade, and involved a Navarrese ship, trading between England and Flanders, the San Jaime, said to have been carrying at least £250 worth of cargo, mostly cloth belonging to merchants of Pamplona, impounded at Plymouth, very much within the parts of Devon and Cornwall where Earl Richard, Theobald’s fellow crusader, held sway. Despite complaints carried to the king of England, the impounded cargo was still in dispute in the late 1240s.60 The loss of the San Jaime is virtually the only serious breach of Anglo-Navarrese relations alleged between Theobald’s succession and the outbreak of open hostilities after 1243. That it may in some way have involved the tensions between Theobald and Richard of Cornwall, already apparent from the Crusade, is a possibility that cannot entirely be discounted. From a strategic point of view, Theobald had a stronger incentive than any previous king of Navarre to seek to extend his influence north of the Pyrenees. As ruler of both Champagne and Navarre, his lines of communication were straddled by the Plantagenet lands in Gascony, so that without English co-operation it was difficult if not impossible for him or his officials even to pass messages, let alone to travel themselves, between his scattered lordships. That hostilities might be expected, even as early as September 1241, is suggested by letters of Henry III offering to reimburse the expenses of Rostand de Solières, citizen of Bordeaux and

57

CM, iv. 79, although see ibid., 140, for Richard’s own, more sanguine, account of his relations with Theobald on Crusade. 58 Above nn. 48–9. 59 Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 74 c. 112, 83 c. 185, 84 c. 193. For a conversion rate of 100 marks sterling = 3000s. morlaas, or 45s. morlaas = £1 sterling, see Garcia Arancón, ‘Navarra e Inglaterra’ (above n. 9), 125. 60 Comptus y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 73 c. 104; 75 cc. 120–1, 124; 76 c. 125–7; 79 cc. 154–5; 80 c. 158; 84 c. 198; 85 c. 200; 86 c. 109.

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newly appointed as seneschal of Gascony, in any war that might emerge between England, Louis IX, Alfonse of Poitiers, Hugh de Lusignan, Raymond of Toulouse or Theobald of Navarre.61 Amongst the later Navarrese allegations we find claims that during Rostand’s time as seneschal (September 1241 – November 1242) he had conspired to rob various Navarrese merchants passing through Gascony.62 Other breaches of the truce that may be assigned to these years include the grievances of Navarrese mariners assaulted at Messanges in Gascony whilst travelling from Bayonne to Brittany, and those of Miguel de Uncastel, whose brother was said to have been assaulted and robbed whilst on pilgrimage to the shrine of St Thomas at Canterbury in 1241: an interesting indication, this, of the fact that Spanish pilgrims were attracted to Canterbury just as English pilgrims were by this time regular visitors to Compostela, but nonetheless, in itself no clear sign that hostilities as yet extended beyond isolated incidents of xenophobia or the sort of intercommunal violence endemic to the south.63 Several men of Navarre claimed to have been robbed in 1242 by Peter Arnald of Sault, lord of the castle of Sault at Hasparren and, as we shall see, a leading player in the warfare that was subsequently to erupt.64 Other allegations involved the non-payment by English barons – Geoffrey de Mandeville and the earl of Hereford – for horses allegedly bought from Navarrese horse-dealers during the early stages of Henry III’s expedition to Poitou in 1242.65 All of these allegations involved attacks or injuries inflicted by subjects of Henry III upon men from Navarre. But in reality, the preliminary hostilities are unlikely to have been nearly so one-sided. They appear so only because the Navarrese allegations are precisely dated, the incidents alleged by Henry III’s men being assigned to no particular year. In terms of their sheer number, the allegations raised by Henry III’s men greatly outnumber those raised in Navarre – in their modern edition by 391 items to 213 – suggesting that, even before 1243, there were as many grudges held in Gascony against the Navarrese as by the men of Navarre against their Gascon neighbours.66 In the meantime, King Henry III’s interest in Gascony had been heightened by the emergence of a new anti-French coalition headed by Hugh de Lusignan and Henry’s mother, Isabella of Angoulême, who in the course of 1241 persuaded Henry to mount a full-scale expedition to southern Poitou, hoping that there he might call upon support not only from Hugh and Isabella but from the count of Toulouse, the emperor Frederick II and the kings of Aragon and Navarre.67 In England, scepticism was expressed about the intentions of various of these potential allies, not least over the prospect of aid from Navarre given the scars inflicted upon King Theobald during the Crusade of 1239.68 Nonetheless, with vast expenditure, an expeditionary

61 62 63

CPR 1232–47, 259. Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 70 c. 52, 77 c. 133 (here dated to 1243), 86 c. 211. Ibid., 76–7 cc. 131 (dated to 1241), 133–4 (dated to 1243, but when Rostand was still seneschal). For further complaints dated to 1242, including the allegation that the men of Dax had held one of Theobald’s men prisoner in chains for eleven days, see ibid., 74–5 c. 114, 80–1 cc. 164, 168–72. 64 Ibid., 81 cc. 168–72, alleging Peter Arnald’s seizure in 1242 of at least 70 livres morlaas of Navarrese goods. 65 Ibid., 78 c. 153, 80 c. 159. There seems to be no other evidence of a man named Geoffrey de Mandeville attached to Henry III’s expedition, so that one is left to wonder whether the Spanish petition employs the name ‘de Mandeville’ in much the same fictitious way as the later travelogue of ‘Sir John de Mandeville’. 66 Ibid., 35–64 no. 34 cc. 1–391, 65–86 no. 35 cc. 1–213. 67 CM, iv. 179, and see Vincent, ‘Isabella of Angoulême’, 211–12. 68 CM, iv. 184.

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force was assembled and in May 1242, Henry III set sail from Portsmouth. The course of hostilities thereafter is too well known to require restatement here, save to note that already by May 1242 the initiative had passed to the French. Following a stand-off between the two armies at Taillebourg in July 1242, Henry was forced to retire to Bordeaux where he remained for the next fourteen months, eventually returning to England, humiliated and virtually bankrupt in September 1243. In the meantime, the aid expected from Spain, Toulouse and the Empire failed to materialise, whilst Hugh de Lusignan and Isabella swiftly came to terms with Louis IX. Worse than this, it now emerges that the set-back to Henry III’s ambitions encouraged Theobald of Navarre to make an armed intervention against the Plantagenets, which for a period threatened the loss of much of southern Gascony. Negotiations between Henry III and Theobald were in progress by March 1242, when the bishop of Hereford, Peter of Aigueblanche was dispatched with messages both for Theobald and for various of Aigueblanche’s contacts in Savoy.69 Theobald at this time appears to have been still in Champagne, but in October 1242 was granted safe-conduct by Henry to return to Navarre, provided that the countess of Bigorre and the count of Toulouse would guarantee that he intended no injury to English interests.70 By April 1243, there were plans for a personal meeting between Theobald and Henry, to be held on 15 May, originally scheduled to take place in the region of Arberoue, with the meeting-place subsequently changed to ‘Eurdas’ (perhaps Urdès, south of St-Sever, 50 kilometres east of Bayonne).71 In late April 1243, Henry duly made a personal tour of the south, travelling via Bazas, St-Sever, Dax and Bayonne, to return to Bordeaux by the end of May: virtually the only occasion during his period of residence in Gascony in 1242–3 when he risked leaving Bordeaux, and indicative of the gravity of the crisis that now threatened to engulf the south.72 Even then, the meeting with Theobald scheduled for 15 May, seems not to have taken place, and instead, on 19 May, arrangements were made for a meeting between English and Navarrese representatives to be held on 11 June in the region of Ostabat: an important staging post on the pilgrimage route to Compostela where various of the pilgrim roads converged before continuing south to the pass of Roncesvalles.73 These negotiations appear to have been conducted no longer in the hope of securing Navarrese aid for the Plantagenet cause, as had been the case in the previous year, but in a desperate attempt to prevent an open rift in Anglo-Navarrese relations. The causes of this rift were multiple and included not only the breaches of the peace, dating back to the late 1230s, later alleged by Theobald and his subjects,

69

CR 1237–42, 433, this mission being chiefly concerned with the proposed marriage between Richard of Cornwall and Sanchia of Provence. 70 CR 1237–42, 518. Theobald’s itinerary can be traced only from the inadequate collections of his surviving charters. To judge from these, having been in Champagne since his return from Crusade in 1240, he was still at Montereau near Orléans in February 1243 and is not recorded in Navarre until June: Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire de Champagne, v (Catalogue des actes), 389 no. 2611, 393 no. 2636, 395 no. 2646. 71 CR 1242–7, 63–4. 72 Henry’s itinerary can be traced via the entries in CPR 1232–47, 375–7, 403; R. Gasc., i. nos 1775–86; CR 1242–7, 23–6, 63–5, with various significant documents relating to his regulation of the government of Dax in May 1243 printed in Le Livre Noir de Dax, ed. Abbadie, 207–11, 396–400. Having arrived in Bordeaux in the late summer of 1242, he had made only one other sortie besides his tour of the south, from late October to early November 1242, when, to counter threats from the French, he had travelled east along the Garonne as far as La Réole: CPR 1232–47, 339–49. 73 CR 1242–7, 64–5.

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but a strong element of opportunism on Theobald’s behalf in exploiting the misfortunes of Henry III. From the Navarrese perspective, there were a number of counter-charges, focussing in particular upon Henry III’s attempt to reinforce, and on occasion to subvert the allegiance of southern lords previously only loosely allied to the Plantagenets or openly declared subjects of Navarre. The collapse of Henry’s expedition against Poitou had been accompanied by what appears to have been a concerted attempt to force the lords of southern Gascony to obey instructions from the English king. But although summoned to attend the king, first as part of an armed muster at Pons in May 1242, and thereafter in arms to St-Bazaille and La Sauve-Majeure in November–December, in arms to La Sauve-Majeure for 26 February 1243, to render homage without military service being required at Bordeaux on 5 April, to answer complaints to be raised by the king and others and to receive judgment at Saint-Sever on the Adour east of Dax on 3 May, and in arms to St-Sever for 7 June, it appears that a large number of southern lords either ignored these commands, or began actively to conspire against the Plantagenets.74 The most notorious case, and perhaps the chief cause of the ensuing war, involved Amigot, lord of the castle of Garro near Hasparren south-east of Bayonne, who at some time in April 1243 imprisoned two servants of Henry III – Peter of Bordeaux and Hubert Hose – on their return from a diplomatic mission to Navarre, releasing them, by July 1243, in return for a ransom of 350 livres morlaas, raised as a loan on King Henry’s behalf from the citizens of Bordeaux.75 50 livres of this ransom is said to have been paid by Amigot to another local lord, Arnald William of Gramont, whose own position had already begun to give cause for concern both to Henry and to Theobald of Navarre.76 In 1237, Arnald William had renewed an earlier act of homage to Navarre, placing his strategically significant castles under Navarrese protection.77 With King Henry’s arrival at Bordeaux, however, Arnald William’s allegiance had been reclaimed by the Plantagenets: a subversion of earlier allegiances that was later cited by Theobald as one of the principal causes of war.78

74

For the summonses, see CR 1237–42, 524–6; CR 1242–7, 54–6, 59, 62–3. The summonses to St-Bazaille and La Sauve-Majeure for November–December 1242 and to La Sauve-Majeure and St-Sever in February and June 1243 were subsequently rescinded, first on news of the end of the French threat to the castle of Lauzerte late in 1242, and thereafter probably as the result of the evolving situation in the south detailed below: CR 1242–7, 56. 75 For the imprisonment of Peter and Hubert returning from Navarre where they had been sent by Nicholas de Molières acting as seneschal of Gascony, see the complaints raised after the war by the men of Bayonne: C. Bémont, Simon de Montfort comte de Leicester (Paris, 1884), 302 no. 19, 305 no. 21. For letters of credence granted to Peter of Bordeaux on a mission from the king to the men of Bayonne and Labourd on 19 April 1243, see CPR 1232–47, 374. For the repayment of 277 marks of Peter and Hubert’s ransom advanced by Halengrat citizen of Bordeaux before 17 July, by which time Hubert was at liberty, delivering royal instructions to Bayonne, see CPR 1232–47, 387. 76 For the supposed payment by Amigot to Arnald William, see Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 305 no. 21. 77 For the homage rendered by Arnald William to Navarre in 1237, renewing arrangements between his family and the kings of Navarre that dated back to at least 1203 when, as a token of homage, the Navarrese banner had been flown from the castle of Gramont, see Documents, ed. Brutails, 3 no. 2, also in Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 98–100 no. 67; Layettes, ii. 351–2 no. 2573, with commentary by Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 77, citing an abstract of the 1237 homage by J. Yanguas y Miranda, Diccionario de antigüedades del reino de Navarra, 4 vols (Pamplona, 1840–3), i. 15–16. 78 For the inclusion of Arnald William’s defection amongst the breaches of the truce subsequently alleged by King Theobald, see Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 83, citing Theobald’s complaints, now printed as Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 65–6 no. 35, stating that, despite his obligation to render up the castle of Gramont to Theobald, Arnald William had been forced by the seneschal of Gascony to render homage for it to Henry III, surrendering various hostages who were taken off for safe-keeping in England. For summonses issued to Arnald William by Henry III, including the expecta-

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When forces were sent by Henry, under the command of William Longuespée and Nicholas de Molières, seneschal of Gascony, to lay siege to Garro, apparently in August 1243, they were repulsed: an action in which the supporters of Amigot of Garro and his father, Garcia Arnald of Garro, are said to have killed the vicomte of Orthe and eighteen of his men as well as at least a further eighteen men who had answered a summons for assistance sent by Henry III to Bayonne.79 When Henry’s army returned in greater strength to press home the siege of Garro, Amigot razed his defences and retired to the protection of Navarre, returning shortly thereafter to seize the castle of Mondarrain, previously garrisoned by knights loyal to the English king, which Amigot now handed over to Navarre.80 The attitude of the lords of Garro seem already to have caused alarm at Henry’s court by April 1243, since the proposed meeting between Henry and King Theobald, proclaimed on 22 April, and due to take place on 15 May, was specifically arranged so as to occur in the region of Arberoue ‘as close as possible to the lands of Garcia’ (ubi propinquius fieri possit partibus de Garsie), the Garcia in question being Garcia Arnald of Garro, father of Amigot, who on 17 June was summoned to Henry’s court, via Bernard count of Armagnac and Raymond Garcia of Navailles who had previously acted as his sureties, to answer all complaints made against him by the king and others.81 Amigot’s activities, besides being typical of the lawless Pyrenean brigandage against which successive Plantagenet rulers had reacted since at least the time of Richard in the 1170s, may also reflect attempts made, again in the late spring of 1243, to secure greater control for Henry III over various southern castles, most notably the castles and lordships of Arnald William of Gramont, and, further to the north, the castle of

tion, perhaps never realised, that he would attend the king, most recently at St-Sever in May 1243, see CPR 1232–47, 322; CR 1237–42, 526; CR 1242–7, 59, 62–3. On 14 July 1243, he was granted safeconduct in approaching the king to whom he was to deliver William Hose, presumably a fellow prisoner of Hubert Hose, and by 1245 he was in possession of an annual pension of 20 livres morlaas from the English: CPR 1232–47, 386, 474. He, or more likely his son, William Arnald of Gramont, had been promised 50 livres morlaas and an annual fee of 20 livres morlaas payable from the revenues of Bayonne, as early as September 1242: CPR 1232–47, 322. 79 See here the account later supplied by Simon de Montfort: below, appendix, no. 5, citing the death of eighteen men of Bayonne. The men of Bayonne themselves subsequently claimed that twenty-two of their number had died: Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 305–6 no. 21, with further significant details, specifying eighteen men dead and a further four carried off into captivity, in Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 37 c. 19, 45 c. 136–9. Garro was under siege by William Longuespée by 16 August 1243, and the expenses of Nicholas de Molières in the siege, of over 200 livres morlaas, were accounted on 6 September: CR 1242–7, 38; CPR 1232–47, 405. For the castle of Garro (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Hasparren, com. Mondionde), part of which still stands, see J. Gardelles, Les Châteaux du Moyen-Age dans la France du sud-ouest: La Gascogne anglaise de 1216 à 1327 (Paris, 1972), 139, where the account of the siege of 1243 is hopelessly garbled; J. Nogaret, ‘Les Châteaux historiques du Pays Basque Français’, Bulletin du Musée Basque 7 parts 1–2 (1930), part 1, 37–47. For the vicomte of Orthe, summoned to the assistance of Henry III with five knights in 1242, and lastly to St-Sever in May 1243, see CR 1237–42, 526; CR 1242–7, 55, 59–60, 63; CPR 1232–47, 339, 361. 80 Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 306 no. 21, referring to the castle of ‘Montkerann’. Below, appendix, no. 5, referring to the castle of ‘Monteferrandi’. Left unidentified by Gardelles (Les Châteaux, 184), but plausibly assumed by Herreros Lopetegui (Las tierras, 81, 190) to refer to the mountain-top castle of Mondarrain (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Cambo-les-Bains, com. Itxassou). Nicholas de Molières had entrusted the castle to Sancho Arnald of Armendarits, whose son later claimed that Sancho had suffered the loss of 500 livres morlaas and eight men in the war of 1243–4: Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 306 no. 21, 312–13 no. 24, and for Sancho Arnald, whom John Mansel was expected to bring before the king in the company of the mayor of Bayonne, Garcia Arnald of Garro and others in February 1243, see CPR 1232–47, 365. 81 CR 1242–7, 63–5, and cf. CPR 1232–47, 365, where Garcia Arnald had been expected to attend Henry’s court as early as February 1243.

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Sault-de-Navailles, which, after a judicial process and the promise of substantial compensation to its titular lord, Amanieu de Labrit, was handed over to Henry’s forces in June.82 It is tempting to identify Sault-de-Navailles as the castle of Sault (Saut) said to have been attacked by Amigot of Garro, again apparently in August 1243, before the declaration of open war: an action associated with Amigot’s alleged burning of 200 houses and mills, his killing of seven peasants and his laying waste to the orchards of Sault, causing damage later estimated at 350 livres morlaas.83 In reality, however, the Sault referred to here appears to be the castle of Sault near Hasparren, in the vicinity of Amigot’s own castle of Garro, perhaps originally built by a member of the same family which controlled the castle of Saultde-Navailles, but by the 1240s in the hands not of Amanieu de Labrit but apparently of a knight named Peter Arnald of Sault, who himself is said (perhaps falsely) to have been killed, together with one of his servants, by the followers of Amigot of Garro.84 That a connection persisted between the two castles of Sault and Sault-de-Navailles is nonetheless suggested by the fact that Raymond Garcia of Navailles, the son of the claimant to the lordship of Sault-de-Navailles, was cited in 1243 as a pledge for the good conduct of Garcia Arnald of Garro, Amigot’s father.85 Also engaged in the siege of Sault near Garro was Peter Arnald of Luxe, lord of Ostabat, described as a knight of the king of Navarre.86 At much the same time, again apparently before the end of August 1243, King Theobald is said to have 82

For the surrender of Sault-de-Navailles to Henry III before 23 June 1243 following a judicial process in the king’s court by which the castle was judged to belong to the king, see CPR 1232–47, 382. For a bond for 347 marks from the king to Amanieu, 30 July, and a promise of assistance should Gaston of Béarn make war against him, see ibid., 388, 407. In January 1246, he was further promised the repayment of 57 livres morlaas which he claimed as expenses in the late war between England and Navarre: ibid., 472. Before September 1242 he had already received a payment of at least £100 from the king in Gascony, having been summoned to the king with thirty knights, the largest contingent attributed to any of the Gascon lords whose military service is recorded: CPR 1232–47, 314; CLR 1240–5, 156; CR 1237–42, 526, and for a brief biography, see A. Luchaire, Notice sur les origines de la maison d’Albret (997–1270) (Pau, 1873), 16–19. Amanieu’s claim to Sault remains unclear, since the castle and lordship themselves lay in the mouvance of the vicomtes of Béarn, Gaston of Béarn having compelled or persuaded the rightful heiress to the castle, Maria daughter of Bertrand, to marry his vassal, Garcia Arnald of Navailles, apparently before Amanieu’s tenure as castellan: Gardelles, Les Châteaux, 217–18, citing Bémont in R. Gasc., ii. p. cvii n. 4, and cf. Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 297–8 no. 15, this latter referring to Henry III’s recognition, apparently in 1243, that Maria was the rightful heiress but that the castle should remain under royal protection until her coming of age, referring also to a ‘war of Sault’ and an ‘afarium’ of Béarn, begun after Henry III’s seizure of the castle, whilst William de Boelles was seneschal of Gascony (July 1245 – November 1247), and ended by a truce arranged by the seneschal Drew de Barentin (after November 1247). Sault-de-Navailles is said to have been punitively tallaged by the countess of Bigorre before February 1247, when the king paid for the walling of the town: CPR 1232–47, 498. 83 Below, appendix, no. 5. 84 For the castle of Sault near Hasparren, see Gardelles, Les châteaux, 219; Nogaret, ‘Les Châteaux’, 25–36, suggesting that the original site of the castle lay in Hasparren, near to the modern hamlet of St-Martin Harriague, about 6 kilometres north-west of the castle of Garro. For the killing of Peter Arnald, see below, appendix, no. 5. In February 1243, John Mansel, then acting as the king’s lieutenant in the region of Bayonne, had been instructed to bring Garcia Arnald of Garro and Peter Arnald of Sault before the king, perhaps to resolve some sort of feud between them: CPR 1232–47, 365. Peter Arnald had earlier been summoned with three knights to attend the king in May 1242: CR 1237–42, 525. 85 CR 1242–7, 65, and for earlier summonses to Raymond Garcia of Navailles to attend the king in Gascony with 10 knights, see CR 1237–42, 526; CR 1242–7, 55, 59. For Raymond Garcia as the son of (Garcia) Arnald, claimant to Sault-de-Navailles, see CPR 1232–47, 498, 511. 86 Below, appendix, no. 5, and for the homage rendered for Ostabat by Peter Arnald to Sancho VII of Navarre in 1228, see Documents, ed. Brutails, 5–6 no. 4, also in Archivo Real, ed. Jimeno Jurio, 295 no. 219. Cf. CR 1242–7, 482, for what appear to have been reprisals carried out against him by the officers of Henry III in 1246.

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seized the castle of ‘Camer’, perhaps to be identified as Camou, 17 kilometres south-east of Gramont.87 It was perhaps also at this stage in hostilities that Henry’s forces seized the castle of Ahaxe (Arçar) near St-Jean-Pied-de-Port.88 In July 1243, even before the siege of Garro, Henry had fortified the castle of Ustaritz, and in August, Nicholas de Molières was instructed to lend further defence to Ustaritz as soon as he could complete the capture of Garro.89 It was in the immediate aftermath of and in direct response to Amigot de Garro’s imprisonment of the Plantagenet envoys to Navarre that Henry had made his expedition south from Bayonne in April–May 1243. At Bayonne, in mid May, and despite a longstanding reluctance to admit the town’s demands for a commune, he recognised the authority of 100 peers of the town as a commune in all but name: yet another indication of the vital role that Bayonne was expected to play in resisting the threat from the south.90 As yet, and as clearly spelled out in the subsequent arbitration of disputes, relations between Navarre and England were still deemed to fall within a period of truce, presumably the same truce that we read of as having been renewed yearly since at least 1235.91 As late as 23 August 1243, Henry’s chief local agents, William Longuespée and Nicholas de Molières, were warned against any action that might be deemed an act of war, being ordered to suspend any attack upon Arnald William of Gramont, despite the return of ambassadors from Navarre with news that King Theobald intended to support Arnald William and to lay claim to his castles, and pending the return of a further diplomatic mission to Navarre, to be led by the bishop of Bazas and Richard of Clifford, after which discussions were to be held at Bordeaux on 1 September.92 The actual declaration of war appears to have been made on the initiative of King Theobald, perhaps in late August and certainly before the end of September 1243, whereafter, until at least April 1244, subsequent descriptions of events take care to distinguish between actions carried out during the truce(s) (durantibus treugis) and those committed in time of war (tempore guerre).93 It perhaps took place during a meeting held between King Theobald and representatives of Henry III – the archbishop of Bordeaux, the bishop of Bazas, (Geoffrey Ridel) lord of Blaye, (Arnald) lord of Blanquefort and the unidentified ‘don William d’Audon’ – in the immediate aftermath of the Plantagenet seizure of the castle of Ahaxe, to which Theobald had responded by advancing into Henry III’s territory as far north as ‘Villanova’ (again, an unidentified location, but perhaps Arnald William of Gramont’s castle at Villenave-sur-Bidouze, 10 kilometres south-east of the new castle which Arnald William had established at Gramont in Bidache).94 At ‘Villanova’, 87

Below, appendix, no. 5, and for Camou (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, com. Aïcirits-Camou-Suhast), see Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 104. 88 Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 65–6 no. 35. 89 CPR 1232–47, 404; CR 1242–7, 38. 90 CPR 1232–47, 403–4, although the term ‘commune’ was already being employed in royal letters to Bayonne as early as April 1243, ibid., 392. For earlier resistance to the establishment of a commune or ‘confraria’, see DD, no. 210, and cf. no. 276. 91 See the careful wording of appendix, no. 5, below, and for the truce of 1235, n. 48 above. 92 CR 1242–7, 70, reporting the return of an embassy led by John le Gros, itself dispatched on 7 August: CPR 1232–47, 389. 93 Below, appendix, no. 5, and for references to ‘the war of Navarre’ in English chancery sources after September 1243, see, for example, CLR 1240–5, 247, 297; CR 1242–7, 433. 94 For the old and new castles of Gramont, and for the suggestion that it was Arnald William who founded the new castle at Gramont in Bidache, see J. Nogaret, ‘Les Châteaux historiques du Pays-Basque Français’, Bulletin du Musée Basque (1935–7), 369–72, noting that the old castle at La Moularie near Villenave (com. Bergouey-Villenave) was still standing as late as 1605, correcting the inconclusive discussion by Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 81n.

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Theobald subsequently claimed, he had offered to retire voluntarily from Henry III’s lands and abandon any claim to them, if the English would undo the wrongs already committed.95 The precise dating of events hereafter becomes extremely difficult, given the number of individual skirmishes that are recorded and the fact that most details of the war are supplied not from the dated English chancery enrolments but from the subsequent submissions of disputes to arbitration. If we begin with the surviving English sources, these disclose that, despite the successful prosecution of the siege of Garro before Henry III’s return to England in September 1243, hostilities continued into the next year. In March 1244, the king wrote to Ayquem de Lesparre and the barons of Gascony, commending them for their previous service and warning them of a continued threat of invasion by Theobald of Navarre.96 At much the same time, Nicholas de Molières, seneschal of Gascony, notified the king that, following rumours that Theobald had been invited by various of the men of Bayonne to seize their town, he had led an armed force to the region, Nicholas borrowing 200 marks from a Bayonne money-lender, repayable at London on 29 May, to support the defence efforts of the bishop and mayor of Bayonne.97 A further letter from Nicholas to the king praises the loyalty of Bayonne’s mayor and citizens.98 Although there is no certain evidence that King Theobald himself remained north of the Pyrenees after the campaigning season of 1243, not until August 1244 is there evidence to suggest that the war itself had ended, being followed by attempts to renegotiate a truce. To judge from subsequent payments made for service against Navarre, the war had forced the king to retain a substantial mercenary army, as well to call upon the service of Geoffrey Ridel lord of Blaye and Oliver de Chalais, whose service at Sault was reimbursed at over 100 marks.99 To the north of the war’s chief theatre, the monks of Sorde and Elias Ridel, lord of Bergerac, who had carried out operations at Sorde, were recompensed for damages and costs that they had sustained, and similar compensation was paid to a number of other local commanders, including Peter Arnald of Sault (whose death at Garro appears to have been misreported) and the vicomte of Tartas, each of whom was promised 50 marks in settlement of their losses, and Thysony du Puy who had lost a horse worth 10 marks at Garro.100 The countess of Bigorre and Gaston her son were likewise promised 600 marks for their service and in settlement of all claims they could make in respect to assistance granted to England during the war with Navarre.101 In November 1244, after hostilities had ended, £100 was sent to pay for the walling of the towns of Bayonne and Dax, and debts of 1000 marks were acknowledged to the men of Bayonne for loans advanced to Nicholas de Molières during the war.102 In January 1246, a long list of the king’s creditors from the late war specifies a further 550 marks owed to

95

Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 65–6 no. 35 (also in Archivo general de Navarra, ed. Zabalza Aldave, 242–3 no. 257), a text presented in the Navarrese vernacular for whose translation I am much indebted to Juliet Tyson. The English negotiators are identified by Theobald as the lord of Blaye (Blaue) (i.e. Geoffrey Ridel, cf. CR 1242–7, 433) and the lord of Blanquefort (i.e. Arnald de Blanquefort, lord of Bourg, cf. CR 1237–42, 519, 530). 96 CR 1242–7, 240, addressed to Ayquem, lord of Lesparre-Médoc (Gironde). 97 DD, no. 257, and for the repayment in July 1244 of the loan of 200 marks advanced by Raymond Durand of Bayonne, see CLR 1240–5, 247. 98 DD, no. 258. 99 CR 1242–7, 433; CR 1247–51, 82. 100 CR 1247–51, 82; CLR 1245–51, 2, 5, 99. 101 CPR 1232–47, 451; CLR 1240–5, 297; CLR 1245–51, 3. 102 CPR 1232–47, 445.

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Raymond Makayn of Bordeaux and more than 650 livres morlaas owed to a further 33 barons and knights, all of them Gascons and including the vicomtes of Castillon and Fronsac, Amanieu de Labrit, Rostand de Solières and Peter of Bordeaux the younger, the money owed to be repayable from the revenues of Bordeaux.103 All told, and including the expenses audited between July and September 1243 for the ransom of Peter of Bordeaux, the redemption of Sault-de-Navailles and the siege of Garro,104 the chancery enrolments record expenditure on military operations in southern Gascony during 1243–4 of more than £1800 sterling, 800 livres morlaas and further, smaller sums in the money of Bordeaux and Tours. Since the recording of these sums is entirely haphazard, we can assume that they represent only a fraction of the total cost of the war with Navarre. The war’s great cost is a theme that recurs in the account of hostilities, printed below, presented by Simon de Montfort during the course of subsequent arbitration.105 Earl Simon’s account, supplemented by various of the complaints submitted by local victims of the war, adds much incidental detail, reporting attacks made by Theobald and his supporters ‘during the truces’ (i.e. before August 1243) against ‘Sansa’ (possibly Cambo-les-Bains) and ‘Crussyaga’, against Saint-Jean-de-Luz on the Atlantic coast, and later, ‘during the war’ (i.e. after August 1243) against the castle of Ustaritz, where one hundred houses are said to have been burned, against the vill of Espelette, and against the regions of Ostabaret and Mixe, during which the parishes of Iholdy and Armendarits were seized, further houses were burned and men of the lords of Samadet and Masparraute were killed. The demands for damages presented by de Montfort include 40 marks for siege engines destroyed during the first siege of Garro, 350 livres morlaas for injuries committed at Sault and elsewhere by Amigot of Garro and his father, 300 marks for the pillage committed at the castles of Sault and Ustaritz by Theobald during the war, 100 marks for the burning of houses at Cambo and ‘Crussyaga’, 100 marks for damages at St-Jean-de-Luz, 250 livres morlaas for damages at Espelette, and the quite staggering sum of 5000 livres morlaas (100,000 shillings, equivalent to roughly £2200 sterling) for devastation wrought in the region of Mixe-Ostabaret, making for a grand total of 540 marks (£360) and 5350 livres morlaas (about £2500), not to mention the loss of life and livestock and the claims for further compensation entered at length by the men of Bayonne, the vicomte of Tartas, the monks of Lahonce and the inhabitants of twenty parishes scattered across the 40 kilometres between Urrugne, close to the Atlantic coast, and Bardos, just to the east of Gramont.106 If accepted, these claims would have run to a further several thousand livres morlaas, including no less than 500 livres morlaas (more than £200 sterling) for fish brought by the men of Bayonne to Pamplona but impounded there as the result of a new ordinance forbidding the withdrawal of merchandise once offered for sale.107 Many of these claims, like those of the Bayonne fishmongers, were probably exaggerated, and none are precisely dated, although the majority seem to have fallen

103

CPR 1232–47, 471–2, and for gifts of robes to a knight of the vicomte of Fronsac and to Raymond Makayn of Bordeaux in December 1243, see CR 1242–7, 143. 104 CPR 1232–47, 387–8, 405. 105 Below, appendix, no. 5. 106 Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 38–64 cc. 38–391, including complaints by the men of Bayonne (38–46 cc. 38–141), the vicomte of Tartas (46 cc. 142–4), and the monks of Lahonce (53–4 cc. 243–6). 107 Ibid., 46 c. 141, at c. 140 laying claim to a further 1000 livres morlaas for illegal tolls taken by the king of Navarre.

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within the year of hostilities in 1243–4. Nonetheless, although the war itself appears to have been conducted in traditional style, as a series of harrying expeditions punctuated by the siege of castles; although those who participated in it appear to have been almost exclusively either local castellans or knights retained from Gascony or Navarre, and although in geographical terms, operations appear to have been restricted to the far south of Gascony and essentially to the Atlantic seaboard and the valleys of the three tributaries that flowed northwards into the river Adour through Ustaritz, Hasparren and Gramont, it was a war fought on a sufficient scale and with the involvement of sufficient forces on either side to inflict considerable damage upon the local economy and to add significantly to the costs of Henry III’s already over-costly Gascon expedition. Perhaps above all, from the English point of view, it was a war from which Henry III could claim no real victory. Although Matthew Paris states that the war was prosecuted to a satisfactory conclusion, in reality it was Theobald of Navarre whose power now stretched northwards towards Bayonne rather than Henry III whose authority was extended southwards towards the Pyrenees. Negotiations for an end to hostilities were begun before August 1244, with the appointment of the king’s uncle, Thomas of Savoy count of Flanders, as arbiter to settle disputes, including complaints raised against the most recent attacks perpetrated against King Theobald’s men by the men of Bayonne.108 Writing from Newcastle on Tyne, in August 1244, amidst negotiations between Henry III and the king of Scotland, Thomas issued letters of credence for Master Robert Anketil, a diplomat regularly attached to the Plantagenet court, appointing him to effect negotiations in situ.109 The chief initiative for these peace negotiations may have come principally from Navarre, since Master Robert later declared that Thomas’ intervention had been invited by Theobald.110 Letters issued by Theobald and Henry III in identical terms, by Theobald in November 1244 and by Henry in April 1245, refer to a truce of four years set to last from Michaelmas 1245 until Michaelmas 1249, governed by further letters of the two kings now lost. Meanwhile the surviving letters set out the terms of Thomas’s commission in greater detail: essentially to effect a ‘mise’ or arbitration of disputes stretching back ten or more years to the time of Theobald’s accession as King of Navarre. Since Thomas himself resided far from the scene of action, the two kings nominated local representatives – the bishop of Bazas and Peter of Bordeaux for Henry, Sancho Ferrant seneschal of Navarre and Elias David burgess of Pamplona for Theobald – empowered for the next two years to investigate disputes, with final arbitration reserved to Thomas to be effected before Michaelmas 1248.111 These letters of Theobald and Henry III, which end with the announcement of oaths sworn before courtiers on either side to abide by any arbitration that Thomas of Savoy might impose, are of the utmost significance, not only for our knowledge of the Anglo-Navarrese disputes of the 1240s, but for our wider understanding of diplomatic and chancery activity under Henry III. They were not enrolled on either 108

The exact terms of Thomas’s commission are not recorded, but can be conjectured from later evidence surviving in the archives of the counts of Champagne, below, n. 109 and appendix, nos 3–4. 109 Letters of Thomas to Theobald, in French, surviving in three early-modern copies in Paris taken from the lost ‘Liber Principum’ of the counts of Champagne: below, appendix, no. 2. At the same time Henry III notified Nicholas de Moliéres, seneschal of Gascony, of Master Robert’s appointment, noting the earlier arrangements with Thomas of Savoy, to which Walter archbishop of York, Boniface archbishop-elect of Canterbury, Richard of Cornwall, Simon de Montfort, William de Cantiloupe, John fitz Geoffrey and John Mansel had pledged themselves as guarantors: CPR 1232–47, 434. 110 Below, appendix, no. 3 111 Below, appendix, nos 3–4.

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the patent or close roll of the English royal chancery, but are known to us only from later copies taken from a cartulary of the counts of Champagne, itself destroyed in the French Chambre des Comptes in 1737. They are written in French, which itself is most extraordinary, and must be accounted one of the very earliest and hence most significant survivals from what, at the time, must have been a far more extensive diplomatic correspondence conducted by Henry III. They point to the existence of an entire class of documents, many of them, as in this instance, written in the vernacular, issued from the chancery, but set apart from the letters patent and close which the chancery routinely enrolled. On the English side, they may once have been copied into a chancery roll equivalent to the fragmentary Treaty rolls which survive for other years of Henry’s reign, but if so, all record of such enrolment has been lost. Their reference to further letters governing the four year truce, itself points to the fact that even the documents which have, by chance, survived are only a small part of what must once have been a much fuller correspondence. Above all, they should remind us that the surviving English chancery enrolments supply us with only a fleeting glimpse of the true extent of the king’s diplomatic initiatives, invaluable for recording the routine of royal administration, but wholly inadequate as a record of the king’s dealings with other European rulers, or, as in this instance, his negotiation of such crucial matters as war and peace. As a rare documentary survival, the letters of 1244–5 are of considerable interest. As a means of ending Anglo-Navarrese disputes, however, the appointment of Thomas of Savoy appears to have done little to ease tensions in southern Gascony. From the records of the subsequent arbitration of 1248–9, we learn that numerous breaches of the truce were effected throughout the later 1240s. These included attacks made by the men of Bayonne upon Navarrese merchants; the robbery by men of the Cinque Ports or Bayonne of Navarrese ships, the Santa Maria, the Vianesa and the San Jaime, in November 1244112 and further robberies committed against men of Navarre, in some cases as late as Michaelmas 1248, at least fifteen such attacks being attributed to the single year 1247.113 Once again, the fact that only the Navarrese complaints are dated should not be allowed to obscure the fact that the men of Navarre were probably as often the perpetrators as the victims of attacks during these years. After 1244, there is evidence of regular contact between English and Navarrese negotiators: most notably Robert Anketil and John de Molendinis, seneschal of Navarre, who in 1245 visited England and who in November 1247 was once again granted safe conduct to travel through Gascony, this latter occasion being specifically recognised as a period of truce.114 Meanwhile, in July 1245 the constable appointed by Henry III to garrison Ustaritz was permitted to relinquish his duties, receiving protection against the many enemies that he is said to have made for himself through his defence of Plantagenet interests.115 The chief focus of disquiet in Gascony now shifted from Navarre to the vicomte of Béarn, a longstanding satellite of the kings of Aragon, who after 1245 threatened armed insurrection to win

112 113

Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 73–4 no. 35 cc. 105–11, 85 c. 201. Ibid., 77 cc. 139, 141; 78 cc. 145, 152; 82–6 cc. 175, 184, 188–9, 196, 208, 212. For attacks alleged in 1247, see ibid., 75 c. 116; 77–8 cc. 138–9, 142–3, 146, 148; 82–5 cc. 174, 181, 187, 190, 194–5, 197, 206. For attacks in 1248, in one instance dated to Michaelmas 1248, see ibid., 78 c. 147; 84 c. 192. 114 CPR 1232–47, 454; CPR 1247–58, 2; CLR 1240–5, 304, and cf. CLR 1245–51, 27, for 50 marks paid to Robert Anketil travelling to Navarre in February 1246. 115 CR 1242–7, 329.

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back control over the castle of Sault-de-Navailles surrendered to Henry III in 1243.116 This is not, however, to suggest that Navarrese ambitions were laid to rest. Much of the negotiations after 1244, we can assume, concerned the redefinition of English and Navarrese spheres of influence north of the Pyrenees. Here, King Theobald continued to secure a series of homages which were clearly intended to consolidate his increased control over the Ultrapuertos; from the men of Urt on the Adour, apparently in October 1243 in the midst of the war;117 from Raymond William of Soule, lord of Mauléon, in July 1244, promising aid against all Theobald’s enemies including the lords of Béarn and Gramont and including the king of England should Henry III or the seneschal of Gascony attack Navarre;118 in September 1244 from Roger de Comminges, son of the count of Pailhas,119 and in November 1247 from Raymond Arnald vicomte of Tartas, who, despite his wartime allegiance to Henry III, now rendered homage to Theobald for the castle of ‘Villanova’ with the whole land of Mixe and Ostabaret which Theobald had invaded in 1243–4, saving body service to the king of England should war break out between Navarre and England, in which case Raymond Arnald would place ‘Villanova’ and his other lands held of Navarre under the authority of a lieutenant who was to obey instruction from Theobald, an agreement secured by the pledge of various southern barons including Raymond William of Soule, Peter Arnald of Luxe and Gaston of Béarn.120 In all of this, the relative proximity of Navarre to southern Gascony, as opposed to Gascony’s great distance from the Plantagenet court in England, appears to have been crucial in ensuring that the initiative remained with Theobald. The permeability of the frontier allowed Theobald to offer money fiefs or lands south of the frontier, to Gascon lords in exchange for their fealty and allegiance for lands and castles in the Ultrapuertos. By contrast, there is no evidence that Henry III made any attempt to attract the fealty of Navarrese lords by the grant of reciprocal rights in Gascony, let alone in other parts of his Anglo-French dominion. Like Richard I before him, Henry’s only expedient appears to have been to shower privileges upon the men of Bayonne and, for the rest, as in the case of Arnald William of Gramont, to rely upon threats and military force. To this extent, the Plantagenets’ southernmost territories were more vulnerable to outside influence than even the frontier between England and Scotland, where the Plantagenets could not only purchase the loyalty of Scots lords through the offer of land or money in England, but installed their own men and administrative machinery in crucial frontier towns and castles. Much has been written of the Plantagenet subversion of frontier lordships, on the borders of Normandy or Brittany in the twelfth century as on the borders of Wales and Scotland in the thirteenth. In the case of Gascony, however, the initiative was

116

CPR 1232–47, 498, noting hostile actions at Sault-de-Navailles by the countess of Bigorre, and for references to a ‘war of Sault’ and an ‘afarium de Béarn’, see Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 297–8 no. 15. 117 Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 125 no. 91; Goyheneche, Le Pays Basque, 77, 654. 118 Documents, ed. Brutails, 8 no. 8, also in Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 137–8 no. 100; Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 27–9 no. 27, and for Raymond William’s earlier homage to Navarre, saving his allegiance to Henry III, see above, n. 51. According to Raymond William’s own account, he had then rendered homage to Henry III during Henry’s visit to Bayonne in May 1243: Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 320–1 no. 28. 119 Documents, ed. Brutails, 9 no. 10, also in Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 141–2 no. 104. 120 Documents, ed. Brutails, 10–15 nos 12–14, also in Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 153–60 nos 119–22; Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 27–9 no. 27, with commentary by Herreros Lopetegui, Las tierras, 82.

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allowed to pass to other rulers, none more successful than Theobald of Navarre: a politician long familiar, be it in Gascony, Spain or his own native Champagne, with the techniques and necessities of frontier lordship. Precisely because of his awareness that Plantagenet control over Gascony was so fragile, in 1248 Henry III appointed his brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, to reimpose order in the south. As a Frenchman, vowed since 1247 to the Crusade, and as the son of a famous, not to say notorious, crusader whose reputation preceded him to southern France, Simon was well chosen to negotiate with Theobald of Navarre, himself after 1239 the crusading companion in arms of Simon’s brother Aimery. A proper resolution of the disputes with Navarre was to occupy Simon for much of his time in Gascony, leading, in October 1248, to a meeting with Theobald, at Ainhoa, from which an arbitration committee emerged consisting of four men, two each from Navarre and the Plantagenet side, ratified by Henry III in February 1249, set to rule upon all outstanding disputes by June 1249 under the direct authority, not of any outside arbitrator but of the principal disputants, Theobald and Henry acting via Simon as his local representative ‘to make this mise’ (a ceste mise faire).121 The implication here must be that the earlier mise entrusted to Thomas of Savoy, set to be completed by September 1248, had either failed or been set aside.122 Instead, a second commission had to be appointed to devise terms, in much greater haste than the first, before the end of the four year truce set to expire at Michaelmas 1249. We might speculate that it was the arrival of Simon de Montfort in the south that provoked this turn of events, and that Simon was determined to regain the initiative in negotiations which, during the past four years, had slipped from the control of the distant Plantagenet court. It was in order to facilitate the working of this new committee of arbitration that the various written evidences of English, Gascon and Navarrese claims over damages and injuries were submitted, including those of Simon himself published below. The documentary form in which these claims were presented itself merits attention, since to judge from the three rolls which today survive in the Archivo General de Navarra, the arbitration process of 1248–9 involved the taking of inquests across much of the Anglo-Navarrese frontier. The results of these inquests were then copied out, in the case of the complaints from Navarre on a roll of six membranes written in the Spanish vernacular,123 and in the case of those from the Plantagenet side in a roll, originally of eight membranes and two shorter schedules,124 written in 121

Letters of Simon in French, 30 October 1248, printed in Documents, ed. Brutails, 16–17 no. 15, also in Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 34–5 no. 33, the four arbitrators being Sancho Ferrant seneschal of Navarre and Leon de Sezanne from Theobald’s side, and Raymond bishop of Bazas and William prior of Le Mas d’Aire from the side of the Plantagenets. For Henry III’s acceptance of these terms, empowering Simon de Montfort to secure peace, see CPR 1247–58, 36–7. For letters of 31 October 1248 by which the men of Bayonne similarly pledged peace and protection to Theobald and his men, see Colección diplomatica, ed. Martin Gonzalez, 170–1 no. 133. 122 In this context, it is worth noting that in October 1250 Thomas of Savoy was attempting to secure payment of 2000 livres tours from Theobald, this financial obligation perhaps suggesting a close enough relationship between Thomas and Theobald to excite doubts at the Plantagenet court as to Thomas’s impartiality: Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire de Champagne, v. 449 no. 2949. 123 Pamplona, Archivo General de Navarra Caj.5 no. 39 iv, written on one side of six membranes of parchment, the membranes measuing roughly 245mm across and varying in length between 480 and 880mm, now stored as six invididual sheets but with sew holes, clearly for enrolment head to foot, chancery style, as a single roll. 124 Ibid. Caj.5 no. 39 ii, written, enrolled and now stored in the same way as the Navarrese roll, the individual membranes measuring roughly 180mm across and for the most part roughly 730mm in length save for the two schedules, the shortest of which is only 380mm in length.

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an idiomatic Latin which shows traces of vernacular influence, subsequently copied onto a second roll, of only six membranes, apparently intended as a neat copy.125 A single, southern scribe appears to have been responsible for copying the bulk of the two Latin rolls and perhaps worked also on the roll written in Spanish. It would be rash to suggest that the style of enrolment favoured here, although identical to that of the English royal chancery, was directly indebted to Plantagenet influence, even though elsewhere and at much the same time the roll form for the enrolment of letters and charters appears to have been introduced, in direct imitation of Plantagenet practice, to the chancery of the counts of Savoy.126 Theobald of Navarre and his predecessors as counts of Champagne already had a tradition of registering letters, charters and administrative documents, albeit it in cartulary or codex form, so that the sophistication and professionalism of the 1248–9 inquest should come as no particular surprise.127 What is more interesting is that the rolls themselves testify to an inquisitorial procedure, involving testimony solicited from several hundred individuals, parishes, towns and religious corporations, apparently in response to a standard set of questions requesting details of the circumstances, monetary cost and, in the case of many of the Navarrese complaints, the date of all alleged breaches of the Anglo-Navarrese truce.128 Once again, it would be far fetched to suggest that the presence of Simon de Montfort amongst the parties to this procedure necessarily supplies a link between the Anglo-Navarrese inquest and the practices of the Inquisition, by the 1240s operating in those parts of the Languedoc and south-western France where Simon’s father had long been established as a figure of legend but of which, by the 1240s, the younger Simon had no direct or recent experience. Whilst there were clearly those in Gascony who feared, on Simon’s appointment in 1248, that he would use the same brutality against the Gascons that his father had employed against the heretics of Languedoc, and whilst, as I have argued elsewhere, the memory of the Albigensian crusade cast a long shadow both across Plantagenet politics and the life of the younger Simon, there is a world of difference between the 1248–9 recording of gravamina and the practices of the contemporary inquisition against heresy.129 Nonetheless, it can be argued that Simon’s involvement in the Anglo-Navarrese arbitration of 1248–9, and the particular documentary forms in which that arbitration is preserved to us, supply a number of significant pointers to Simon’s future career, both in Gascony and on the wider English political stage. To begin with, not only do the process of 1248–9 and the documentary evidences to which it gave rise represent the very earliest such diplomatic process involving the Plantagenets for which records have survived more or less intact, but they directly paved the way towards the later submissions of grievances by the Gascons against Simon de Montfort himself. Within a few years of the process of 1248–9, many of 125

Ibid. Caj.5 no. 39 iii, details as above save that the membranes here measure roughly 250mm across (i.e. slightly wider than the original draft but of very similar width to the Navarrese roll) and roughly 730mm in length. 126 N. Vincent, ‘Why 1199? Bureaucracy and Enrolment under John and his Contemporaries’, English Government in the Thirteenth Century, ed. A. Jobson (Woodbridge, 2004), 42 n.126. 127 T. Evergates, ‘The Chancery Archives of the Counts of Champagne: Codicology and History of the Cartulary-Registers’, Viator 16 (1985), 159–79. 128 The clearest evidence of the inquisitorial form is found in Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancón, 86 c. 213: ‘et nos demandamos quando fu feito esto et quando avia preso est dayno, et eill nos disso . . .’ 129 N. Vincent, ‘England and the Albigensian Crusade’, England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III (1216–1272), ed. B.K.U. Weiler and I.F. Rowlands (Aldershot, 2002), 67–97, esp. 84–5, citing the fears reported in Gascony in 1248, as recorded in Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 298.

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the same individuals and communities, such as the men of Bayonne or the vicomte of Tartas, who had submitted complaints against Navarre were to submit remarkably similar lists of gravamina, this time directed not against King Theobald but against Simon de Montfort and his administration in the south. To this extent, Simon’s own complaints against Navarre served as a precedent for the complaints that Henry III was later to stir up against Simon. Nor does the significance of the 1248–9 inquest end here. Having been bombarded in the early 1250s by gravamina directed against him from Gascony, within the next decade Simon and his fellow baronial ‘reformers’ were to bring precisely the same technique to bear upon their submission of grievances against the rule of Henry III in England. Some years ago, Robert Stacey urged us to consider how the revolution in English government after 1258 was influenced by precedents set in France, and in particular by the contemporary querimoniae and enquêts solicited by Louis IX and his brother, Alphonse of Poitiers, from the Capetian lands.130 The present enquiry suggests that such precedents were by no means confined to Capetian France, but were to be found much closer to the Plantagenet court, being already established during Simon de Montfort’s time in Gascony in respect to Plantagenet claims against Navarre. Furthermore, just as the Anglo-Navarrese gravamina of the 1240s may remind us of the later inquests into Henry III’s government of England, so the various mises to which AngloNavarrese disputes had been submitted since 1244 may carry us forward to the 1260s and the various attempts at arbitration to which Simon and Henry III submitted, via the so-called mises of Amiens and Lewes. Indeed, Simon de Montfort’s apparent rejection of the mise entrusted to Thomas of Savoy after 1244 served as a prophetic precedent, if only its significance had been known at the time, of Simon’s own later rejection of the 1263 mise of Amiens devised by Louis IX. Paradoxically, whilst the significance of the process of 1248–9 for the career of Simon de Montfort and for English political history can be easily inferred, the impact of the 1248–9 gravamina upon Anglo-Navarrese relations is less clear. Eugène Goyheneche has described the enrolled complaints of 1248–9 as ‘the most precious documents which we possess on the economy of (southern Gascony) in the Middle Ages’, and as such they are indeed of capital importance.131 However, we have no proof that any of the individual claims for compensation, either from the Plantagenet or the Navarrese side, were upheld. In January 1252, King Henry undertook to ratify any truce that Simon might make with Navarre, but the continued passage of diplomatic envoys thereafter seeking peace or a peace treaty suggests that, as between 1234 and 1243, relations from 1244 until Theobald’s death in 1253 were governed by a series of renewable but essentially temporary truces rather than by a full blown treaty.132 The terms of the four year truce of 1244, renewed during Simon de Montfort’s time in Gascony, are not specifically recorded, but can be gauged to some extent from the subsequent disposal of castles in the south. In essence, the truce, whilst being more favourable to the Plantagenets than the situation that had obtained in the immediate aftermath of the war of 1243–4, still left Navarre with the greater share of the gains. Henceforth, the castle of Mondarrain and the regions of Arberoue and Mixe-Ostabaret were conclusively lost to 130

R.C. Stacey, ‘Crusades, Crusaders and the Baronial “Gravamina” of 1263–1264’, TCE, iv (1991), 137–50, esp.146–8. 131 Goyheneche, Le Pays Basque, 77. 132 For the proposed renewal of truce in 1252, and for the subsequent dispatch of the dean of Bordeaux as envoy to Navarre in 1252, seeking a more permanent peace which Theobald is said to have first discussed with the dean in 1249, see CPR 1247–58, 123, 159.

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Plantagenet rule. Far from the situation of the 1190s, in which Richard I had laid claim to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port and all land as far south as Roncesvalles, the frontier had now shifted 30 or 40 kilometres further north: perhaps not the most dramatic of shifts, but nonetheless equivalent in its way to the loss of one or two of the most northerly English counties: a loss which English historians have entirely overlooked but which in terms of the Plantagenets’ most southern territory might reasonably be compared to English losses in the north under King Stephen, when Cumberland, Westmorland and Northumberland had been abandoned to the Scots. De Montfort did his best to contain this loss. In particular, and despite the vigorous opposition of the men of Bayonne, he attempted to effect a rapprochement with Amigot of Garro, the chief villain of 1243, who was nonetheless restored to favour by Simon and permitted to rebuild his fortifications, most likely at Garro itself.133 In 1254, the vicomte of Tartas was appointed to effect an end to feuding between the houses of Garro and Sault, presumably the same feud which had led a decade earlier to Amigot’s supposed killing of Peter Arnald of Sault.134 By contrast, Arnald William of Gramont, who before 1243 had acknowledged the authority of Navarre but whose defection to Henry III and whose surrender of his sons and nephews as hostages to the Plantagenets had served as one of the principal grievances leading to Theobald’s invasion of Gascony, was kept out of his castle of Gramont by de Montfort and for a time was held as de Montfort’s prisoner, despite proposals from King Henry that he be restored.135 In the same way, the vicomte of Soule, who had defected to Henry III in 1243 only to redefect to Navarre in the following year, was besieged by Simon’s forces in his castle at Mauléon-Licharre and forced to pay a ransom of 500 livres morlaas.136 Simon likewise reseized the castle of Uza in Les Landes, founded by Richard I but thereafter granted by King John to the vicomte of Tartas who is said to have destroyed its fortifications and to have removed Uza itself from Plantagenet allegiance.137 Ironically, when he returned to Gascony in 1252, Simon is said to have negotiated not only with French mercenaries but with the count of Bigorre and with Theobald of Navarre to supply troops with which to put down his enemies in the south.138 Although Henry III’s longstanding grievances against Navarre were included in his negotiations with Castile after Theobald’s death in 1253, and although he promised the king of Castile that he would send the Lord Edward, now married to a Castilian bride, to mount a joint Anglo-Castilian war against Navarre, the negotiation of a treaty between Castile and Navarre and the domestic upheavals of England in the later 1250s ensured that no such military expedition was ever launched.139 The political turmoil in England was witnessed at first hand by King

133 134 135

Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 302 no. 19, 305–7 no. 21. CPR 1247–58, 292. CR 1247–51, 357; Gascon Register A (Series of 1318–1319), ed. G.P. Cuttino and J.-P. TrabutCussac, 3 vols (Oxford, 1975), ii. no. 219, and for Arnald William’s sons, one of them schooled at Reading, both granted robes as royal valets in England in 1246, see CR 1242–7, 402, 464. When fealty for Gramont was sworn to the Lord Edward in 1255, it was by Raymond Brun, apparently intruded into the castle during Arnald William’s exile: Recueil d’actes relatifs à l’administration des rois d’Angleterre en Guyenne au XIIIe siècle, ed. C. Bémont (Paris, 1914), 209–10 no. 479. Arnald William appears not to have regained possession of Gramont until March 1263, and almost immediately thereafter redefected to the allegiance of Navarre: Recueil, ed. Bémont, 205–6 no. 476; Documents, ed. Brutails, 21–2 nos 21–2; Garcia Arancón, ‘Navarra e Inglaterra’ (above n. 9), 140. 136 Bémont, Simon de Montfort, 320–1 no. 28; Gardelles, Les Châteaux, 172–3. 137 Royal Letters, ii. 57–9 no. 462, and for the castle, see Gardelles, Les Châteaux, 230–1. 138 CM, v. 277. 139 DD, no. 272; CM, vi. 254.

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Theobald II of Navarre, son and successor of Theobald I, who undertook a pilgrimage to Canterbury and who appears to have attended the feast of St Edward the Confessor at Westminster in October 1258, at the height of the first outbreak of baronial discontent against Henry III.140 Thereafter, although Theobald II appears to have made no attempt to capitalise upon the weakness of Henry’s position in Gascony during the ensuing years of English civil war, immediately after the battle of Evesham, in October 1265, he secured the resignation from the heirs of Simon de Montfort of de Montfort’s complicated and hotly disputed claims to the Pyrenean county of Bigorre. The outcome was a Navarrese occupation of Lourdes and, in 1266, a second Navarrese campaign against southern Gascony, retracing virtually the same steps as the earlier campaign of 1243–4, via Garro, Sault, Villenave and Gramont, save that on this occasion Theobald appears to have been supported by some if not all of the men of Bayonne.141 Although, like the first campaign of the 1240s, the 1266 campaign was to peter out into a truce, brokered on this occasion by Louis IX of France, and although Theobald II’s claim to Bigorre was to lead to no permanent Navarrese gains, there is a remarkable irony here, that the second Anglo-Navarrese war should have been provoked by an alliance between the de Montfort family and Theobald II of Navarre, when, twenty years earlier, in the aftermath of the first Anglo-Navarrese war, it should have been Simon de Montfort who strove so vigorously to contain the incursions made into Gascony by Theobald I.142 As the present investigation has shown, England’s involvement with the kingdoms of northern Spain is to be regarded as yet further evidence of the degree to which the Plantagenets’ lands in France drew them into both alliances and wars with their continental neighbours. At the very least, I hope to have established here a precise context and chronology for Anglo-Navarrese relations which until now have barely registered in the consciousness of English historians. Lists of dates, names and diplomatic treaties are regarded today as the most trivial of historical pursuits, unworthy of study at GCSE level let alone by the great minds and the even greater egos with which our discipline is blessed. And yet, without such lists, humble as their purpose may be, we would continue to wander blindly in a world of immaterial speculation. The present enquiry can at least claim to shed a little new light upon the European engagements, diplomacy, and archive-keeping of the first four Plantagenet kings. It may even assist us towards a more rounded picture of that most atypical of Plantagenet servants, Simon de Montfort. Gascony, let alone the Pyrenean frontier, is too often regarded as a faraway place of which the historians of thirteenth-century England need know very little. Nonetheless, from the marriage of Richard I to the mise of Ainhoa, and from Simon de Montfort’s experiences in Anglo-Navarrese negotiations to the later mises of Amiens and Lewes, there stretched lines of connection that add not a little to our understanding if not of English then of Plantagenet and hence of European history.

140 141

CR 1256–9, 271–2, 321. For the war of 1266 and its background, see the comprehensive study by Garcia Arancón, ‘Navarra e Inglaterra’, 111–49, esp. 124–43, noting the participation of men of Bayonne and Richard, younger son of Simon de Montfort at p. 142, and at pp. 129ff using the surviving financial accounts of Navarre to estimate a total military cost to Theobald II of over 150,000s. morlaas, or roughly £3000 sterling, not far removed from the figures estimated above for the cost of the 1243–4 war to Henry III. 142 For the truces negotiated by Louis IX in the aftermath of the war of 1266, see Garcia Arancón, ‘Navarra e Inglaterra’, 144–8.

Appendix 1. Notification by Alfonso (VIII) King of Castile, describing himself as lord of Gascony, of his confirmation of possessions and grants to the abbey of Divielle (Landes, arr. Dax, cant. Montfort-en-Chalosse, com. Goos), including the house of Préchacq-les-Bains (Landes, cant. Montfort-en-Chalosse). Guadalajara, 28 June ?1214 [?recte 1213] PRO C61/72 (Gascon Roll 33 Edward III) m. 5, in an inspeximus 12 April 1359. For the identification of the place names, I am indebted to Frédéric Boutoulle and Judith Everard. The date of the charter presents problems. Elsewhere, Alfonso is recorded not at Guadalajara but at Burgos on 3, 4, 22 and 29 June 1214, where he appears to have been resident since early May (Gonzalez, El reino, iii. 605–17 nos. 919–25, 883–4). The date of the present charter, given in the Spanish era (i.e. Christian era + 38 years), has probably been mistranscribed, perhaps from ‘mccxlii’, i.e. June 1204, shortly after Alfonso became aware of the death of Eleanor of Aquitaine (d. 1 April 1204), when Alfonso’s movements are unknown, although by 3 July 1204 he was at Castro Nuño, to the south-east of Zamora (Gonzalez, El reino, iii. 868), lying far enough away from Guadalajara to make a visit to the latter on 28 June unlikely if not impossible. Alfonso was, however, at Guadalajara in June 1213 (‘mccli’) (Gonzalez, El reino, i. 1066, iii. 882), which is perhaps the most plausible date for the present letters. The style of the letters accords with others issued by Alfonso, although no other inserts the mysterious phrase reg’ exp’ after the place of issue. If these could be interpreted as reg(e) or reg(is) exp(editione), then they might be associated with other charters issued by Alfonso referring explicitly to the victory at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, for example Gonzalez, El reino, iii. 585 no. 905, dated ‘secundo videlicet anno postquam ego A(lfonso) rex predictus Almiramomelinum, tunc regem de Marracos, apud Navas de Tolosa campestri prelio devici non meis meritis set Dei misericordia et meorum auxilio vasallorum’. The interest shown here in the lands of the ancient vicomté of Dax is shared with Alfonso’s charter of 26 October 1204 to the bishop and cathedral of Dax (Gonzalez, El reino, iii. 335–6 no. 765).

Notum sit omnibus hanc cartam videntibus quod ego A(lfonso) Dei gratia rex Castelle et Toleti, dominus Vasconie, libenti animo et voluntate spontanea concedo, dono, roboro pariter et confirmo instanti abbati Dei Ville domum de Pressag’ et successoribus suis cum populatis, heremis, pratis, pascuis, terris, campis, nemoribus et defessis, aquis, rivis, montibus, fontibus et viridariis et cum omnibus pertinentiis eidem domui pertinentibus et cum omni iure quod ego ibi habeo vel comes Pictaven(sis) unquam habuit, et quicquid de meis vel de terris militum sive de aliis ad me pertinentium ad opus abbatie supradicte iuste acquiri poterit ut ea imperpetuum habeat et possideat libere et quiete. Facta carta apud Gadalf ’, reg’ exp’a, era mcclii., xxviii. die Iunii. a sic, perhaps for reg(is) expeditione

2. Letters from Thomas (of Savoy), count of Flanders and Hainault, to Theobald (I) king of Navarre. Having offered to assist in making peace between Theobald and King (Henry III) of England, Thomas is sending his clerk, Master Robert Anketil, supplying him with these present letters of credence and asking that his advice be followed in respect to the disputes between the kings, in respect to the new seizures made by the men of Bayonne against Theobald’s men, in respect to making a truce and a mise between the kings, and in taking sureties from Theobald on Thomas’s

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behalf, Thomas trusting the good intentions of King (Henry) as Master Robert will explain to Theobald and his counsel and to the King of England’s men in Gascony. Newcastle on Tyne, 13 August 1244 B = BN MS nouv. acq. latines 2454 fol. 204r–v, copy from the lost ‘Liber Principum’ of the counts of Champagne (destroyed in the French royal Chambre des Comptes 1737), s. xviii. C = BN MS 500 de Colbert 56 fol. 258r–v, copy from the same lost cartulary, s. xvii. D = BN MS Champagne 136 (Preuves de l’histoire des comtes de Champagne) fol. 140r (p. 171), copy from the same lost cartulary (fol. 142) by Lévesque de la Ravalière, s. xviii. G = Lost copy from the same cartulary by Vuion d’Herouval, whence the pd edition by Guichenon. Pd (after the lost cartulary, from a copy supplied by Monsieur de Vuion seigneur d’Herouval, misdated to 1245) S. Guichenon, Histoire généalogique de la royale maison de Savoye (Lyons, 1660), part 6 (preuves), 91, whence (brief calendar, misdated 1245) Table chronologique des diplômes, chartes, titres et actes imprimés concernant l’histoire de France, ed. O.F. de Bréquigny and J.-M. Pardessus, 8 vols (Paris, 1769–1876), vi. 84; (brief calendar from CD) Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire de Champagne, v. 402 no. 2681. For the lost cartulary, made c. 1271, see Evergates, ‘The Chancery Archives’, 171–2, at p. 172n. recommending the copy C in preference to B. At Newcastle on Tyne, on 12 August 1244, King Henry III wrote to the seneschal of Gascony, notifying him of Count Thomas’s appointment of Master Robert Anketil in the making of a mise and truce with the king of Navarre, ordering the mayor and commune of Bayonne to make amends for any injuries caused to the men of Navarre: CPR 1232–47, 434.

A son chier amia et a son chier cosin Thiebauetb par la grace de Dieu royc de Navarred et conte palatine de Brie et de Champagnef, Thomas conteg de Flandres et de Hanau mande saluz et amistiezh. Chier sirej sachiezk sans doutance que formant me grieue et poise et mout sui a malaise por le descort et por les contans quil est entre monsignor le royc d’Angleterrem et vousn, et por ce que je metroie volontieres paine et conseilp comment le bien et la concorde futq entre lui et vous, je vous envoi i. mienr clerc de cui je me fi, maistres Robert Anketilt, le porteurv de ces presentes lettresw, et vousn mant et priex que vousn le creezy desz paroles que il vousn dira de moie part, et faciezaa ce que il vousbb requerra de par moi, nomeement entor cete besoigne del descorscc del roi d’Angleterredd et de vous commeee de faire rendre la nouvelleff prise que cels de Baonegg ont faite del votrehh, si commejj lan ditkk et toutes les llautres novellesll prises d’une parsmm et d’autre, si comnn il porra miax estre fait et amendépp, et commeqq de prendre treve et de faire mise entre le roi d’Angleterredd et vousn et de prendre seuretérr en mon leu de la votress part en la guise que je li ai chargié si com vousn dira, car del roi d’Angleterredd sui je bien attachétt et seur que il tendravv de la sonww part ce qu’en sera faitxx par moi ou par autreyy o mon consoilzz si commeaaa le devant dit maitrebbb Robert vos dira et atireraccc o vos et vostre consoilzz et o les gens le roi d’Angleterredd qui sontddd en Gascogneeee si en creezfff celui maistre Robert de moie part, et en faites tant que je vousn sache gré vostre merciggg. Cestes lettres furent donneéshhh a Nuefchastel sour Tine le samedijjj prochien devant la feste nostre Dame de la miekkk Aoust de l’an del incarnation nostre signor mccxliiiilll. a amy CG | b Thiebaut CDG | c roi CD | d Navare D | e conte palasin C, conte palazin D, comte palatin G | f Champaigne D | g comte DG | h salus et amistié C, salus et amistiés G | j sires B, sire supplied from CDG | k seachiez D, sachiés G | l le contans qui D, le contans que G | m d’Englaeterre D, d’Engleterre G | n vos CDG | p mettroies volontiers paine et consoil C, metroie volentiers paine et consoil D, mettroye volontiers paine et conseil G | q fust CD | r je vous envoye un mien C, je vos envoi un mien D, je vos envoye i. mien G | s maitre D | t Anretil G | v porteor CDG | w lettre C, letres

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G | x mande et prie C, mant et pri DG | y levee B, le creez supplied from CD, le creés G | z de G | aa faciés G | bb qu’il vos C, que il vos DG | cc nommement entore cette besoigne del descort C, nommeemant entor ceste besoigne del descort D, nomeement entor cette besogne del descort G | dd Engleterre DG | ee vos come G | ff novele D | gg cels barons G | hh faicte des vostres C, faite del vostre DG | jj com C, come G | kk l’andist D, lan dist G | ll–ll noveles C, autres noveles D | mm part DG | nn come G | pp fet et amandé D, fet et amendé G | qq come DG | rr suerté CDG | ss vostre CDG | tt suis ie bien attachié C, sui ge bien atachié DG | vv tenra B, tendra supplied from CD, tiendra G | ww son B, soi C, siene (corrected from soe) D, soe G | xx fet CG | yy d’autres D, autres G | zz conseil DG | aaa com D, come G | bbb maistre CDG | ccc ativera B, atirera supplied from CDG | ddd sunt DG | eee Gascoigne DG | fff croiez C, eseez D, creés G | ggg vostre merci not in D | hhh doneés DG | jjj samedy C, semedy DG | kkk my C, mi DG | lll mil deux cent quarentequatre C, mil ccxliiii. D, mcclxv G

3. Notification by Theobald (I) King of Navarre that he has submitted to Thomas count of Flanders and Hainault all disputes and discords which have arisen with King Henry (III) of England during the past ten years, since a truce was first made between them and since Theobald first became King (which truce was not to be broken without the parties issuing a year’s notice). Theobald hereby undertakes to uphold whatever settlement Thomas may devise. Since Thomas lives far away, Theobald accepts the appointment of the bishop of Bazas and Peter of Bordeaux, acting for the party of the king of England, and Sancho Ferrant seneschal of Navarre and Elias David citizen of Pamplona, acting for Theobald’s party, to adjudicate on all breaches or the aforesaid truce and other truces since made, these four having power to adjudicate for the next two years on breaches of the truce, reserving full power to Thomas to accept or alter the adjudication of these four within three years of the coming feast of Michaelmas (i.e. before 29 September 1248), and pending the expiry of a truce, whose terms are set out in other letters, set to last for four years from the coming feast of Michaelmas (i.e. to 29 September 1249). Theobald has sworn before Sancho Ferrant, seneschal of Navarre, to uphold the terms of Thomas’s mise according to the terms of the present letters and other (lost) letters governing the truce. Estella, 23 November 1244 Followed by a postcript by Robert Anketil, canon of Dol, clerk and messenger of Thomas count of Flanders and Hainault who has been requested by King Theobald to make the aforesaid mise, noting that Theobald has sent the letters recited above to Thomas in two copies, with further such letters to be provided by the king of England, Robert depositing the above written transcript of Theobald’s letters with Theobald under Robert’s own seal and written in his own hand. B = BN MS nouv. acq. latines 2454 fols 57v–59v, copy from the lost ‘Liber Principum’ of the counts of Champagne (destroyed in the French royal Chambre des Comptes 1737), s. xviii. C = BN MS 500 de Colbert 56 fols 88r–90r, copy from the same lost cartulary, s. xvii. Pd (brief calendar from C) Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire de Champagne, v. 402 no. 2684.

Nos Thiebaut par la grace de Dieu rois de Navarre, de Champaigne et de Briea cuens palais faisons a savoir a touzb cels que ces presentes lettres verront que de touzb les contanzc et de touzb les descors d’entre nostre chier cosin Henri par cele mesme graced roi d’Engleterree, signor d’Ilandef, duc de Normandie et d’Aquitaine et conte d’Anjo d’une part, et nos d’autre, qui sunt sours et meug de dis anz enca, nomeemanth des mesprisures, des domagesj et des forfaisk d’une part et d’autre en puis que trive fu prise premierement entre lui et nos puis que nos fumes roisl de

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Navarre, qui ne devoit estre rompue sansm un an de desdit, nos nos sommes mis d’ou tout en tout en nostre chier cosin et en nostre chier ami Thomas conte de Flandres et de Haynau, par tel guise et par tel maniere que quanquen il en fera par droitp nos le tenrons, et s’il ne puet par droit a sa volentéq, nos le tenrons a bone foi et ferons tenir a tous ces de nostre part sanzr mal engien, ne ne venronss encontre, et le promettonst a tenir et a faire estauble et fermv por nos et por nos hoirs et por touzw noz successors, et por ce que la chose soit plustost et plus ligierement acheveéx et meneé a fin par l’ordenemant a devant dit conte, et parcequ’il le nos a mandé et prié et por lui qui est lointains deschargiery ce que lanz porra, nos nos sommes mis en cele meesmesaa forme et en cele meesmesbb maniere en l’evesque de Besazcc, en monseignordd Perron de Bordiaux nommés pouree la partie le roi d’Engleterree, et en Sanche Ferrant nostre senechal de Navarre et en Helye David borjois de Pampelune nommezff par la nostre partie pardessouzgg le devant dit contehh, et cist quatre doivent jurer d’achever et d’avancier la besoignejj en bone foi. Et s’aucune fois avenoit que aucuns en defausit, la partie por qui il est nommez i metroitkk autre en son leu en bone foi loial et qui ameroitll pais, et cil doit jurer ensemant des choses et des forfaisk et des mesprisures del terme devant dit en enca, nomeemantmm de la trive devant dite et des autres trives suivanznn qui porront mener a fin sanzr le conte devant dit par acort communal des quatre, le cui pooir des quatre quant a la mise sor les choses trespasséespp ne doit durer fors dore en deux anz, par si que li pooirs le devant dit conte en qui nos sommes mis principalmant remaint saus et entiers a prendre la besoigne el point ou il la lairrontqq, et a faire enquerre rrla veritérr par qui li plaira et acheverss ce qu’il n’auront achevé par aus quatre ou d’ou il seront en descort et a faire tenir si commett il est devant ditvv lor egart et le suen, et lor jugemant et le suen si com il verra qu’il sera a faire, et cesteww chose doit estre acheveé dedanz cestexx prochiene feste saint Michiel en trois ans ensuivansyy, et en ce qui ne seroit lors achevé la mise del surplus qui ne seroit acheveé seroit nule, et il ne seroit plus sor le conte de lors en avant, et porzz ce ne remaint mie que lorz chosesaaa qui seroient achevées et determinées ne soient tenues, ne por ce ne ramanra mie que la trive que nos avons prise o le devant dit roy por soi et et por les suens et por nos et por les nozbbb ne soit fermeccc et estableddd dusqu’au terme qu’elleeee est prise, c’est assavoirfff de la prochiene feste sainct Michiel qui vient en quatre ans selon ce qu’elle est contenue en nos lettres qui de celeggg trive sunt faites. Et por ce que nos ne nostre hoir ne nostre successor ne poisson issir de la mise devant dite ne de la trive si comtt elle est prise, nos avonshhh de nostre gré et de nostre volonté donesjjj pooir a devant dit conte de prendre et de tenir sansm mesprendre et sans mesfaire de nos biens et des biens a nos hoirs et a nos successors ou que il les truistkkk tant que soffise a ce faire tenir, si com il est devant ditvv quant a la mise et quant a la trive ou il est par dessor les autres si com il est devant dit, se par aventure avenoit que nos ou nostre hoir ou nostre successor en ississonslll en nule rien, et cist pooirsmmm del conte devant dit de faire tenir les choses achevées par la prise et par la tenue devant dites ne doit faillir por terme, et por plus grantnnn fermece nos avons fait jurer en nostre arme a Sanche Ferrant nostre seneschalppp de Navarre por nozbbb et pos nozbbb hoirs et por nos successors que nos en toute bonne foi tenrons et ferons tenir la mise devant dite et la trive ansemant seloncqqq ce qu’il est escrit et contenu en nos lettres presentes de la mise et en nos lettres de la trive, et en tesmoing de ceste chose et por ce que ce soit fermv et estable nos avons faict faire ces presentes lettres et les avons fait seeler de nostre seelrrr. Datum apud Stellam, die mercurii proxima post octabas sancti Martini hyemalis, anno domini m°cc°xl°quarto, mense Novembri. Saichentsss tuit cil qui sunt et qui seront que je Robert Anbertisttt chanoinel de

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Dol, clers et messages monsignor Thomas conte de Flandres et de Haynauvvv envoié en cestewww besoigne qui est devant escritte de parxxx le devant dityyy conte monsignor par son commandement requis a monsignor Thiebaut par la grace de Dieu roi de Navarre, de Champaigne et de Briea conte palais que il feistzzz la mise qui estaaaa devant escrittebbbb, et il la fist a ma requeste commeccc de message et en cele forme meesmesdddd devant escrittebbbb de mot en mot sans rienseeee faillir m’en balla ses lettres doubles pendans seelées de son seel porter a devant ditvv conte de Flandres monsignor par tel covent que icelui monsignor li doit faire avoir semblables d’ou roi d’Engleterree, et les soes par dessoures, et en tesmoing de cesteww chose je laissai a icelui roi de Navarre cest transcristffff mot a mot de la forme que je en portai seelegggg en mon seel et por grignorhhhh tesmoignes escris de ma propre mainjjjj. a Champagne et Brie C | b tous C | c contens C | d meems B, mesme grace supplied from C | e Angleterre | f Irlande C | g meus C | h nommement C | j dommages C | k forfaiz C | l fusmes roi C | m sanz C | n quenque C | p droict C | q volonté C | r sans C | s venronz C | t prommetonz C | v ferme C | w poutouz B, por touz supplied from C | x achievée C | y descharger C | z len C | aa celes mesmes C | bb celes mesme C | cc Bezas C | dd monsignor C | ee nomez par C | ff nomez C | gg dessous C | hh conte C | jj besogne C | kk nome y mettroit C | ll ameroit C | mm nomement C | nn suivans C | pp trepassees C | qq lairont C | rr–rr not in C | ss a la chever B, achever supplied from C | tt come C | vv dict C | ww cette C | xx nostre corrected to ceste B, cette C | yy anz en suivanz C | zz pour corrected to por B, par C | aaa les choses C | bbb nos C | ccc frome B, ferme supplied from C | ddd C inserts que cancelled | eee quele B, qu’elle supplied from C | fff a scavoir C | ggg quatre anz selonc ce quele est contenue en nos letres qui de celle B, supplied from C | hhh avonz C | jjj doné C | kkk trius C | lll ississionz C | mmm pooirez C | nnn grand C | ppp senechal C | qqq ansement selent C | rrr avonz faict seeller de nostre séel C | sss Sachent C | ttt Anbris C, ?recte Anketil | vvv Hainay C | www en ceste B, a cette C | xxx escrite par C | yyy dit not in B, supplied from C | zzz fist C | aaaa qui est not in B, supplied from C | bbbb escrite C | cccc com C | dddd mesme C | eeee sanz rien C | ffff ce transcrit C | gggg seelle C | hhhh greignor C | jjjj BC end here ceste desteeine partie ouge parech

(paroch) apres le transcrit, apparently from the copyist’s note

4. Notification by King Henry (III) in identical terms to no. 3 above, save that King Henry’s oath to uphold Count Thomas’s mise has been sworn before John de Plessis. Windsor, 22 April 1245 B = BN MS nouv. acq. latines 2454 fols 41v–43r, copy from the lost ‘Liber Principum’ of the counts of Champagne (destroyed in the French royal Chambre des Comptes 1737), s. xviii. C = BN MS 500 de Colbert 56 fols 50v–52v, copy from the same lost cartulary, s. xvii. Pd (calendar from C) Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire de Champagne, v, 404 no. 2695. Here printed from BC, with passages in brackets < > below, shown as illegible in BC, supplied from above no. 3. For other letters, proving that the king was indeed at Windsor on 22 April, including negotiations with France and promises to repay the countess of Béarn and her son money for their service in the late war with Navarre, see CPR 1232–47, 451. Despite surviving in an inadequate modern transcription, a highly significant record of the sort of diplomatic correspondence conducted by Henry III in French but generally preserved only for those years, and then only sporadically, for which Treaty Rolls survive. Note the solemnity of the dating clause, citing both the regnal year and the year of the incarnation. aHenry

par laa grace de Dieu roisb d’Engleterrec, sires ad’Irlande, duc de Normandiea, d’Aquitaine et cuens d’Anjod faisons a savoire a tous ceuz qui ces presentes lettres verront que de tous les acontensa et de tous les descors d’entre nos

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d’une part et nostre chier cosin Thieb(aut)f par celleg mesme graceh roi de Navarre, de Champaignej et de Brie contek palazin dautorl, qui sunt sort et meu de diz anzm enca, nomeemantn des mesprisures, des domages et des forfaiz d’une part et d’autre en puis que trive fut prisep premierement entre nos et lui puis que il fut rois de Navarreq, aquia ne devoit estre rompue sanzr un an de desdit, nos nos sommes mis d’ou tout en tout en nostre chier oncle et en nostre chier ami sire Thomas de Savoies, par tel guise et par tel maniere que quant que il en fera par droit nos le tenrons, et s’il ne puet par droit a sa volonté nost le tenrons a bone foi et ferons tenir a touzv cels de nostre part sans mal anginw ne ne venronsx encontre, et le prometonsy a tenir et a faire estable et fermz por nos et por nos hoirs et por nos successors, et por ce que la besoigneaa soit plustost et plus legierementbb achevée et menée affincc par l’ordenemant au devant ditdd Thomas, et parcequ’il le nost a mandé et prié et por lui qui est lointainsee deschergier ce que lan porraff, nos nos somsgg mis en cele mesme forme et en cele mesmeshh maniere en l’evesque de Besaz et en seignorjj Perron de Bordiaux nomezkk porll la nostre partie, et en Sanche Ferrantmm senechal de Navarre et en Helyenn David borjois de Pampelune nomez porll la partie le devant ditpp roi de Navarre par dessous le devant ditqq Thomas de Savoies, et cistrr quatre doivent jurer d’achever et d’avancier la besoigne a bonne foyss, et s’aucune fois avenoit que aucuns en deffausisttt la partie por qui il y est nommezvv i mettroit autre en son lieuww en bonnexx foi loial et qui ameroit pais, et cil doit jurer ansemant des choses et des forfais et des mesprisures d’ou terme devant dit en encayy, nomeemantzz de la trive devant dite et des autres trives sivans qu’ilaaa porront mener a fin sanzr le devant dit Thomas de Savoies par acort communalbbb des quatre, le cui pooir des quatre quant a la mise sur les choses trespassées ne doit durer fors dore en deuzccc ans, par si que li pooirsddd le devant dit Thomas de Savoie en qui nos nos somesgg mis principalmenteee remaint sauzfff et entiers a prendre la besoigne el point ou il la lairont et a faire enquereggg la verité par qui li plaire et ahhh achever ce jjjqu’il n’auront achevéjjj par aus quatre ou dont ilkkk seront en descort et a faire tenir si comlll il est devantmmm dit alor egarta et le sien et lor jugement et le sien si comlll il verra qu’il nnnsera necessaire, et cestennn chose doit estre acheverppp dedanz ceste prochieneqqq feste sainct Michielrrr en trois ans ensuivanzsss, et an ce qui ne seroit lors achevé la mise dou sorplus qui ne seroit achevé seroit nule, et il ne seroit plus sour lettt devant dit Thomas de Savoie vvv <de lors> en avant, et por ce qui seroient achevées et determinées ne soient tenues, ne por ce ne la trive que nos avons prise devant dit roy por noz et por les noz <et por soi et por les suens> ne soit ferme et estable au terme que elle est prise, Michiel qui vient <en quatre anz selon ce> quele est contenue en nos lettres qui de celle mesme trive sont faitesvvv. Et por ce que nos ne notre hoir ne nostre successor ne pussonwww issir de la mise devant dite ne de la trive si com elexxx est prise, nos avons de nostre gré et de nostre volonté donné pooir au devant dit Thomas de Savoies de prendre et de tenir sanzr mesfaire etyyy mesprendre de nos biens et des biens a nos hoirs et a nos successors ou qu’il les truist tant que suffise a ce faire tenir, si comzzz il est devant dit quant a la mise et quantaaaa a la trive ou il est par desseusbbbb les autres si comzzz il est devant dit, se par avanture avenoit que nos ou nostre hoir ou nostre successor en issions en nulecccc rien, et cist pooirs del devant ditdddd Thomas de Savoie de faire tenir les choses achevéseeee par la prise et par la tenue devant dites ne doit faillir por terme, et por plus grant fermetéffff nost avons faict jurer en nostre amegggg a nostre chier et a nostre feel Jehan del Pleisseiz por nos et pos nos hoirs et por nos successors que nos en toute bonne foyss tenrons et ferons tenir la mise devant dictehhhh et la trive ensemant seloncjjjj ce qu’il est escrit et contenukkkk en nos lettres presentes

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de la mise et en nos lettres de la trive, et en tesmoinllll de ceste chose et por ce que ce soit fermz et estable, nost avons faitmmmm faire ces presentes lettres et les avons fait seelernnnn de nostre seel, et ce fut faict a Windesores le vintedeusiemepppp jour d’Avril l’an de regne vintenoviesmeqqqq et en l’an de l’incarnationrrrr nostre signor milliesme douscentiesmessss quarantecinquiesme. a–a shown as illegible B, supplied from C | b roy C | c Angleterre C | dAniou C | e a savoir faisons | f Tiebaut C | g celes C | h graces C | j Champagne C | k comte C | l d’autre C | m aniz C | n nommement C | p en pu’il que treive fu prise C | q roi de Navare C | r sans C | s Savoye C | t nous C | v toux C | w angui C | x venronx C | y promettons C | z ferme C | aa besogne C | bb ligierement C | cc a fin C | dd diit C | ee loingtain C | ff len poira C | gg sommes C | hh mesme C | jj seigneur C | kk nommez | ll par C | mm Froram B, Ferrant supplied from C | nn Helie C | pp devandis C | qq dit not in B, supplied from C | rr cil C | ss bone foi C | tt defausist C | vv por qui il est nomé C | ww lui B, lieu supplied from C | xx bone C | yy devant dit enca B, devant dict en enca C | zz nomement C | aaa sivant qu’ils C | bbb communial C | ccc deux C | ddd pooirer B, pooirs supplied from C | eee principalement C | fff sanz B, sauz supplied from C | ggg enquerre C | hhh a not in C | jjj–jjj qu’il i auront acho.... B, supplied from C | kkk ils C | lll come | mmm avant C | nnn–nnn seu ......ure et ceste B, sera necessaire coste C | ppp achevée C | qqq prouchiene C | rrr St Michié C | sss ensuivans C | ttt le B, de C | vvv–vvv left blank as a long lacuna in C | www ne pusson B, puisson C | xxx comme elle C | yyy C inserts sans | zzz comme C | aaaa quand C | bbbb dessus C | cccc nulles C | dddd diz C | eeee achevées C | ffff frometé B, fermeté supplied from C | gggg an nostre arme B, en nostre ame supplied from C | hhhh dite C | jjjj selon C | kkkkest escrit et contenu B, est escrit et escrit C | llll tesmog B, tesmoin supplied from C | mmmm faict C | nnnn seeller C | pppp Wuindesores le vintedeuziesme C | qqqq vingtenoviesme C | rrrr l’incarnaon’ C | ssss dousecentiesme C

5. Petitions and complaints directed by Simon (de Montfort) earl of Leicester on behalf of King Henry III against the men of the king of Navarre. [October 1248 x June 1249] B = Pamplona, Archivo General de Navarra, Comptos Caj.5 no. 39.ii m. 1r, c. 1249. C = Ibid. 39.iii m.1r, apparently copied from B by the same scribe who wrote B, c. 1249. Printed (from C misidentified as B, failing to note the existence of the two copies BC) Comptos y cartularios, ed. Garcia Arancon, 36–7 no. 34 cc. 1–18. Apparently drawn up after Simon’s agreement to arbitration, issued on 30 October 1248, and before the term there agreed for arbitration to be completed by June 1249.

Iste sunt petitiones domini comitis Leycestren’ quas proponit pro illustri rege Angl(ie): Proponit dominus comes quod, durantibus treugis inter reges, gens regis Navarr’ senescallum et gentes domini regis Angl(ie) compulit recedere ab obsidione de Garroa1, qui locus est de feodo et dominio ipsius regis Angl(ie), et quod, durante ipsa obsedioneb, gentes predicti domini regis Navarr’ interfecerunt vicecomitem de Avorta2 se altero militum et xviiii. hominesc ipsius vicecomitis et xviii. cives Baion’3 venientes ex debito ad servicium dmemorati domini regis Angl(ie)d in obsidione predicta, et, obtentu compulsionis predicte, oportuit senescallum domini regis Angl(ie), multiplicato exercitu suo, redire pro obsidendo loco predicto de Garro1, propter quod oportuit eum facere magnas expensas et multa sustinuit detrimenta. Proponit etiam comes quod, durantibus dictis treugis, occupavit rex Navarr’ castrum de Monteferrandi4 quod est domini regis Angl(ie) et adhuc detinet illud. Proponit etiam comes quod, treugis existentibus inter reges, Amigotus de Garro,

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tunc bailivus regis Navarr’, et sui, interfecerunt fidelem et vassallum domini regis Angl(ie), scilicet P(etrum) Arn(aldi) de Saut5 et unum servientem de suis, quos videlicet interfectores sepedictus rex Navarr’ in terra sua receptat in iniuriam domini regis Angl(ie) et in violationem treugarum. Item proponit comes quod, durantibus dictis treugis, Petrus Arn(aldi) de Luxa6, vassallus et miles memorati regis Navarr’, obsedit castrum domini regis Angl(ie), videlicet castrum de Saut5, propter quode idem dominus rex multas et magnas fecit expensas et multa sustinuit detrimenta preter interfectionem multorum hominum. Proponit etiam comes quod, durantibus treugis, cepit rex Navarr’ castrum de Camer7 quod est de feodo domini regis Angl(ie), pro quo recuperando oportuit dominum regem facere magnas expensas. Item dicit comes quod, durantibus treugis, combusserunt Amigotus de Garro et Garc(ia) Arn(aldi) pater suus cum hominibus regis Navarr’ circiter cc. domos et molendina, intefecerunt vii. agricolas regis Angl(ie) et devastaverunt pomaria castri de Saut5 et districtus ipsius quod est de feodo domini regis Angl(ie), rapuerunt boves et pecora, que estimat septem mil(ia) sol(idos) Morl’8. Item dicit comes quod, tempore guerre quam iniuste movebat rex Navarr’, combusserunt idem rex Navarr’ et sui castrum de Saut5 et circiter centum domos in castro de Ustarydsf9 et devastaverunt pomaria apud Ustaryzf9 precium ccc. march(arum). Item proponit comes quod, in treugis, combusserunt gentes regis Navarr’ domos de Sansa10 et de Crussyagag11, quod dampnum estimat centum march(as). Item dicit comes quod, in treugis, combusserunt gentes regis Navarr’ in parrochia Sancti Iohannis de Luys12 tres domos, et rapuerunt centum xx. porcos, et interfecerunt unum hominem, quod dampnum estimat centum march(as) preter interfectionem hominis. Item dicit comes quod, in treugis, rapuerunt gentes regis Navarr’ octoginta vaccas Pet(ri) Ar(naldi) de Saut5, et interfecerunt unum hominem ipsius P(etri) A(rnaldi) de Saut5, et alium ceperunt et ad redemptionem lx. s(olidorum) Morl’ compulerunt. Item dicit comes quod, cum gentes domini regis Angl(ie) invasores treugarum suarum et graves malefactores ipsius et suorum obsedissent et ad tantam necessitatem induxissent quod diu se defendere non possent, gentes adh mandatum domini regis Navarr’, minis suis et terroribus, compulerunt eas ab obsidione recedere, et sic dicti malefactores evaseruntj immunesk. Item dicit comes quod, tempore guerre quam rex Navarr’ iniuste movebat, cepit idem Bastitam13 et totam terram, que sunt de feodo et dominio regis Angl(ie). Item eodem tempore cepit idem rex Navarr’ Ostebares14 que est de feodo et dominiol regis Angl(ie), et interfecerunt gentes regis Navarr’ in Mixa15, Bernardum de Bauta16 domicellum domini Guillelmi B(ernardi)m de Samatos17, Raimundum Dorsahaco18 molendinarium domini de Mansbarrauta19, et unum burgensem de Mansbarrauta19. Preterea combusserunt domos, devastaverunt pomeria, destruxerunt molendina et alia incommodan intulerunt, que estimat centum mil(ia) sol(idos) Morl’. Item proponit comes quod, eo tempore quo Mixa15 fuit capta, cepit rex Navarr’ duas parrochias regis Angl(ie), videlicet Hyhout20 et Armendaryzp21, et adhuc detinet eas. Item dicit comes quod, in treugis, gentes regis Navarr’, quando homines regis Angl(ie) ibant ad obsidionemq castri de Garro1, destruxerunt ingenia regis Angl(ie) et interfecerunt duos homines et fecerunt eis dampna usque ad valorem xl. march(arum) et amplius. Item dicit comes quod, tempore guerre quam rex Navarr’ iniuste movebat, idem

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rex combussit domum Despeleta22 et devastavit pomeria, combussit molendina et domos et intulit alia dampna precium v. mil(ia) sol(idorum). Item dicit comes quod Amigotus interfecit duos homines regis Angl(ie) apud Hesparrena23. Item proponit comes quod, in treugis, gentes Garc(ie) Arn(aldi) de Garro et Amigoti secuerunt duos malos et funes ruperunt Seingneronis prepositi Laburd’23, scilicet Martinus Bracsa, Iohannes Ortyzr, Domingo Harracas senescala. Hec petit comes, salvo iure addendi, diminuendi, declarandi et corrigendi et summamt expensarum ponendi ac etiam dampnorumv. a Gaurro C | b obsidione C | c xviii. homines corrected to xviiii. homines C | d–d domini regis Angl(ie) memorati C | e in C, with quod inserted over the line | f Ustarids C | g Crussiaga C | h ac B, ad supplied from C | j evasorel B, evaserunt supplied from C | k inmunes C | l dominio et feodo C | m Guillelmi B(ernardi) B, Guillelmi Raimundi C | n incomoda C | pArmendarietz C | q C inserts regis Angl(ie) marked for cancellation | r Ortitz C | s Arraca C | t sumam C | v ac etiam dampnorum added in a slightly later hand in B 1 Château de Garro (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Hasparren, com. Mondionde) | 2 Orthe (Landes) | 3 Bayonne (Pyrénées-Atlantiques) | 4 Château de Mondarrain (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Espelette, com. Itxassou) | 5 Château de Sault (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. et com. Hasparren) | 6 Luxe (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. St-Palais, com. Luxe-Sumberraute) | 7 Château de Camou (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. St-Palais, com. Aïciritz-Camou-Suhast) | 8 sous de Morlaas | 9 Ustaritz (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 10 Unidentified, ?Cambo-les-Bains (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, arr. Espelette) | 11 Unidentified | 12 Saint-Jean-de-Luz (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 13 Unidentified, ?La Bastide-Clairence (Pyréées-Atlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 14 Ostabat/Ostabaret,

commune and region of southern Gascony between Saint-Palais and Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Iholdy, com. Osabat-Asme) | 15 Mixe, region of southern Gascony around Saint-Palais (Pyrénées-Atlantiques) | 16 Unidentified | 17 Samadet (Landes, cant. Geaune) | 18 Orsanco (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. St-Palais) | 19 Masparraute (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. St-Palais) | 20 Iholdy (Pyrénèes-Atlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 21 Armendarits (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, cant. Iholdy) | 22 Espelette (Pyrénées-Atlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 23 Hasparren (PyrénéesAtlantiques, arr. Bayonne) | 24 Labourd, region of Bayonne (Pyrénées-Atlantiques)

The Appointment of Cardinal-deacon Otto as Legate in Britain (1237)

Adam Davies On 12 February 1237 Pope Gregory IX appointed Otto da Tonengo,1 Cardinaldeacon of St Nicholas in carcere Tuillano, as his legate de latere in England, Wales and Ireland.2 Scotland too fell within the ambit of Otto’s authority for on 24 March he was instructed to bring about a peace settlement between the kings of Scotland and England, and in early May, after Otto had left the curia, the pope extended his legatine authority to the northern kingdom as well.3 Hence, upon his arrival at Dover in mid-July4 he wielded influence over the larger part of the British Isles; indeed the only areas outside his jurisdiction were the Isle of Man and the Western Isles of Scotland, which belonged to the ecclesiastical province of Nidaros and were nominally at least in the possession of the king of Norway. He remained for nearly three and a half years (departing on 5 January 1241) during which time he quite simply dominated the realm and was described by one contemporary, albeit in unflattering but equally correct terms, as ‘Otto the legate, in effect another pope . . .’5 Many historians have long recognised the important role that Otto played as legate in Britain. He has been remembered for such things as the canons of London, which were promulgated at the legatine council held at St Paul’s in November 1237, and the later reformatory statutes he laid out for the Benedictine Order. His considerable influence within the political sphere has also been highlighted. This included his counsel to King Henry III; his efforts to restore peace amongst the hostile English nobles; and his part in the drafting of the Treaty of York (1237), which resolved the tense situation between the kings of Scotland and England. Attention has also been given to the important role he had in fiscal matters, including the disbursement of the thirtieth on moveables, which had been granted to King Henry in January 1237, and his collection (either in person or through his appointees) of the numerous taxes levied by the papacy after 1239 when it found itself embroiled in its struggle with the Empire. The decidedly less savoury aspects of his legation, mostly derived from the contemporary account of the chronicler Matthew Paris, have also been emphasised. These include his alleged and unprecedented control of Appointment of Cardinal-deacon Otto as Legate

1

He is also known as Otto (var. Otho, Othon or Ottone) de Montferrat; de Tonengo; Cardinal Candidus; and Cardinal Candido Bianco. The town of Tonengo, whence he derived his appellation, is in the province of Asti in the Piemonte region of Italy. 2 Reg. de Grégoire IX, ed. L. Auvray and others (Paris, 1890–1955), no. 3509. 3 Ibid., nos 3578–80 and 3626. A papal letter to King Alexander II of Scotland, dated 10 May, makes it clear that the legatine commission for Scotland came after Otto’s departure: ibid., no. 3629. 4 CR, 1234–7, 541–2; and Tewkesbury, 104–5. 5 CM, iv. 84; and The Life of St Edmund by Matthew Paris, trans. and ed. by C.H. Lawrence (Stroud, 1999), 149. In this same work Paris described Otto as ‘He who was in deacon’s orders, a foreigner, a man of inferior character and a pretty poor theologian . . .’: ibid., 147.

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the king; the students’ riot against him at Oseney Abbey (1238); his acrimonious relationship with the archbishop of Canterbury; his reputation for greed; his ostentatious displays of finery; and the means by which he obtained prebends for his clerks.6 Suffice it to say, Otto is remembered more for the things that he did as legate following his arrival in England rather than the circumstances that led to his appointment. Dorothy Owen (née Williamson), whose work on the legate Otto was published in the middle part of the last century but which remains seminal,7 argued the reason why Gregory commissioned a legate at that time was that he was acting upon a request he had received from King Henry. ‘The legation’, she wrote, ‘coincided with a period of intense political stress, when Henry III was threatened with baronial opposition of a most serious character.’ She identified numerous political challenges and threats – ‘an accumulation of difficulties’ – which the king faced in 1236, amongst which were the implementation of new administrative reforms, financial pressures and, perhaps most pressing of all, growing tension with King Alexander II of Scotland. The king’s only recourse was to turn to the papacy for support, and she thought Gregory proved receptive to his appeal as Otto was made legate ‘in response to a royal request’.8 Sister Rose Catherine Clifford, arguing very much the same line as Owen, described Henry’s appeal to the pope in 1236 in these terms: ‘It was natural as well as in accordance with his role of vassal to the Holy See that Henry turned to the pope for support’, and Gregory in turn was compelled to agree with the king’s request for ‘as papal overlord [he] recognized that he had some obligations toward his vassal, the king of England . . .’9 There is however a problem with this oft-repeated explanation. A close reading of the available sources makes it clear that Pope Gregory had not been at all persuaded by the king’s request for a legate in 1236, nor was he even receptive to the king’s appeals. In 1230 Henry petitioned for a legate, specifically he asked for John of Colonna to be sent to England but he soon withdrew the request.10 Three years later, 6

Otto’s achievements whilst legate were outlined in two important articles by D.M. Williamson: ‘Some Aspects of the Legation of Cardinal Otto in England, 1237–41’, EHR lxiv (1949), 145–70; and ‘The Legate Otto in Scotland and Ireland, 1237–1240’, Scottish Historical Review xxviii (1949), 12–30. For other summaries of his time in Britain see F.M. Powicke, King Henry III and the Lord Edward: The Community of the Realm in the Thirteenth Century (Oxford, 1947), 351–3, 355 and 764; F.A. Underhill, Papal Legates to England in the Reign of Henry III (1216–1272) (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Indiana University, 1965), 134–87; C.H. Lawrence, ‘The Thirteenth Century’, in The English Church and the Papacy in the Middle Ages, ed. C.H. Lawrence (New York, 1965), 138–41; and W.E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England to 1327 (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), 197–205. A biography has been compiled by A.P. Bagliani, Cardinali di Curia e ‘familiae’ cardinalizie dal 1227 al 1254 (Padua, 1972), i. 76–97. For a more recent overview of his legation, with specific attention given to his activities in Scotland, see P.C. Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland: Legates, Nuncios, and Judges-Delegate, 1125–1286 (Stair Society xlv, 1997), 89–96; and D.E.R. Watt, Medieval Church Councils in Scotland (Edinburgh, 2000), 48–53. Paris’s account for the period 1237–41 is very detailed but these are his most candid comments about the legate: CM, iii. 412, 446, 470 and 567; and iv. 4, 8, 10 and 19. 7 Her account of Otto’s appointment has been quoted, cited or at least referred to by many other historians, including in Councils & Synods, with other documents relating to the English Church, Vol. II: 1205–1313, ed. F.M. Powicke and C.R. Cheney (Oxford, 1964), 237–40, and by, amongst others, R.C. Stacey, Politics, Policy, and Finance under Henry III 1216–1245 (Oxford, 1987), 120 and esp. 137; and C.H. Lawrence, The Life of St Edmund by Matthew Paris (Stroud, 1999), 79. 8 Williamson, ‘Some Aspects of the Legation of Cardinal Otto in England’, 145–7; and Williamson, ‘The Legate Otto in Scotland and Ireland’, 12–18. 9 R.C. Clifford, England as Papal Fief: The Role of the Papal Legate in the Early Period, 1216–1241 (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles, 1972), 240–2. 10 Royal Letters, i. 379 (no. CCCX). His request was mentioned in a letter from Richard St John to the chancellor, Ralph, bishop of Chichester (dated to the latter part of June 1230). According to this docu-

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according to Matthew Paris, he sent another request but this the pope refused to grant.11 In 1236 Henry again appealed for a legate. In the letter, dated 25 May, he wrote: ‘Whenever our royal dignity is in any difficulty we throw ourselves with all confidence upon the Apostolic See, our tender Mother, since she has an ever compassionate regard for us, her devoted son.’12 This was clearly an appeal based upon the king’s feudal subjection to the Holy See and Henry no doubt had high expectations that it would succeed given that Gregory had recently reminded him of all that the papacy had done on his behalf, but it too was refused.13 What is more, in 1236 Henry and Gregory were politically allied with one another, as shall be discussed below, but even this was not enough to secure Gregory’s consent. Apparently, the pope had no interest in sending a legate to England, although he had been prepared to send one to Ireland, which King Henry had in turn opposed.14 In late January 1237, in the wake of the ruckus Hilary parliament,15 the king dispatched Walter de Cantilupe, the bishop-elect of Worcester, to the curia. His task was to explain to the pope matters concerning the king and the realm, and to ask for a legate.16 As noted, however, Otto was appointed on 12 February, perhaps two weeks after Walter’s departure from England, and he could not have arrived at the curia in so short a time. Therefore, it seems the legation came about because of some other factor that was at play and was not a direct result of a royal request. This other factor can found in the relationship that existed between the papacy and the Emperor Frederick II. Briefly, in 1233 the King of the Romans, Henry (VII), son of Frederick II, assembled an army and marched against Otto II of Bavaria.17 Although this particular action was widely supported by several German princes his campaign against a number of Swabian nobles was not, and aggrieved by Henry’s acts they fled to Frederick’s side to complain about his son’s conduct. Henry tried to explain his position18 but instead his actions brought all of the longstanding resentment and hostility, both between the king and the German princes but also between father and son, to a head. By 1234 the situation had worsened and Henry was now in outright rebellion against his father, having gone so far as to secure pledges in Alsace and along the Rhine.19 In time he was to prove a poor threat indeed, but his ment, the king asked for a legate, against the wishes of the justiciar, and so was forced to recall his messenger. 11 CM, iii. 279. 12 Royal Letters, ii. 13–14 (no. CCCCXXII). 13 Reg. Grég. IX, no. 3298 (21 August 1236). In a letter dated 7 June 1232, written in response to the recent anti-foreigner riots in parts of England, Pope Gregory not only reminded King Henry of the earlier papal support that he had received but mentioned that he was in part responsible for Pope Innocent’s attitude toward the English Crown after 1213: Foedera, pp. 203–4: ‘. . . nobis, tunc in minori officio constitutis, ipsum negotium ex tunc utiliter procurantibus . . .’ (p. 203). 14 CR, 1234–7, 166–7 (dated 23 February 1235). 15 The details are found in Stacey, Politics, Policy, and Finance under Henry III, 112–18. 16 CPR, 1232–47, 173; and Tewkesbury, 104. 17 Chronica regia Coloniensis [Annales maximi Coloniensis], ed. G. Waitz (MGH Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum, Hanover, 1880), 265; Conrad of Fabaria, Casus de S. Galli (MGH Scriptores II), 181; and Annales Sancti Rudberti Salisburgenses (MGH Scriptores IX), 785. For this point, and much of what follows, I have relied upon the Marbach annalist, printed as Annales Marbacenses, ed. H. Bloch (MGH Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum, Hanover, 1907), 95–6; as well as T.C. Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II of Hohenstaufen: Immutator Mundi (Oxford, 1972), 370–81; and D. Abulafia, Frederick II: A Medieval Emperor (Oxford, 1988), 236–42. 18 Historia diplomatica Friderici, ed. J.L. Huillard-Bréholles (Paris, 1852–61) [henceforth HuillardBréholles], vol. IV, pt ii, 686. 19 Annales Marbacenses, 96. ‘At the smallest offence against the decisions of Ravenna and Cividale [these were agreements made between Henry (VII) and the Emperor] the princes complained to the

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actions proved nonetheless a catalyst for changes in longstanding European alliances. By the end of 1235 Henry (VII) allied with the Lombards and the Milanese, who had many longstanding grievances against the Emperor and looked for any reason to break free of his influence, and he had also approached the king of France.20 This was a profound turn of events for the Lombards had typically allied themselves with the papacy against the Emperor, but in the summer of 1234 Gregory and Frederick forged an alliance of their own.21 It is clear that Gregory was alarmed by Henry’s actions in Germany and so he planned to replace Henry with Frederick’s other son Conrad.22 Based upon the arrangement made with the pope at Rieti in 1234, Frederick himself was not only prepared to take such a step but he may have actually formulated the idea.23 Moreover, the pope apparently thought that since Frederick was a widow there was the opportunity to arrange for a new marriage, which if successful (that is if it produced a male heir) would enable Gregory to put that child upon the Sicilian throne (after Frederick’s death and with Conrad as the German king) and so sever the Empire completely. This was now where King Henry III of England entered the picture. If he could be brought on board then the pope would not only be one step closer to separating the Empire but he could also end the Hohenstaufen-Welf rivalry (remembering that the English king had been the principal ally of Emperor Otto IV only a generation previous).24 Gregory was well aware that England and France had recently agreed to a truce (negotiations had begun in the summer of 1233 and were nearly completed in May 123425) and he thought perhaps this would be a good time to alter the diplomatic pitch. Hence, an alliance was forged between England, the Emperor and the papacy – with the pope as the architect for it and Isabella, the sister of King Henry III, being the price. Already by late 1234 the idea of a marriage between the Plantagenet and Hohenstaufen houses had been raised,26 and in February 1235 the contract between Frederick and Isabella was agreed.27 In May she left England and in July she was married at Worms.28 Frederick left no doubt that Gregory was responsible for his marriage to Isabella. He stated in one letter: ‘in accordance with the ideas of our most dear father, the lord Gregory . . . we have decided to take to wife Isabella, the sister of our most dear friend the illustrious king of England’; and he made a similar same declaration to King Louis IX of France.29 As the pope had hoped, later that same summer the Diet of Mainz convened, where Otto, grandson of Henry the Lion and a nephew of the Emperor Otto IV, promised that he would never ‘injure the Empire’ nor challenge the Emperor’s authority. In return, he received emperor and the pope against the king. In this situation he decided on an open split with his father’: A. Haverkamp, Medieval Germany 1056–1273, trans. H. Braun and R. Mortimer (Oxford, 1988), 250–1. 20 Annales Marbacenses, 96. 21 Their meeting at Rieti was described by Richard of San Germano: Chronica (MGH Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum, new edn vol. VII, pt ii), 188. 22 ‘Doubtless the chief reason for Frederick’s taking his son with him to Rieti was to introduce him to the Pope as future German King, for the one issue upon which Gregory IX and the Emperor were fully in agreement was that Henry (VII) must be deposed’: Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II, 373. 23 This point was suggested most recently by M. Lower, The Barons’ Crusade: A Call to Arms and its Consequences (Philadelphia, 2005), 20. 24 R.V. Turner, King John (Harlow, 1994), 131. 25 The course of negotiations is outlined in Foedera, 210–11. The pope’s involvement in the process was mentioned in a letter from the king dated 10 May 1234: ibid., 211. 26 Plans were started by November 1234: ibid., 220. 27 Ibid., 223. 28 Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II, 380–1. 29 Huillard-Bréholles, vol. IV, pt ii, 503 and 515.

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Lüneburg as a fief and his title as Duke of Brunswick was recognised.30 This, coupled with the marriage to Isabella, ended the Welf threat. The tripartite Papal-Anglo-Hohenstaufen alliance was a revolution in medieval diplomacy but at the same time it was an unusual, even unnatural, coalition. In the 1190s the Capetian king had often allied with the Hohenstaufen rulers.31 In 1212 Frederick had turned to King Philip II of France as his main financier in his attempt to regain his German inheritance with the help of Pope Innocent III, and in 1224 he renewed this friendship with King Louis VIII. Then, they had each agreed that neither party would make an alliance with the King of England or his heirs, nor would they harbour each other’s enemies.32 Now, in the years 1234 and 1235, all of that had changed. Yet, the alliance meant something different to each party. For Henry, it was a dramatic increase in prestige – his ‘greatest diplomatic triumph to date’ – although it came with a very large financial burden (in the form of the dowry, which was £20,000 and Henry had agreed to pay it in three installments).33 For Frederick though the benefits were more veiled. He, flush from success against his son, soon turned his attention to the Lombards (many of whom had allied with the German king Henry when he was in his ascendancy, but now that he was gone continued their longstanding attempts to thwart Imperial aims). As Ernst Kantorowicz so aptly put it, ‘The Lombard War could no longer be averted.’34 Abulafia was right to note that Frederick’s first steps were cautious: although at Mainz he had announced his plan for Lombardy, this ‘did not exclude a continued search for a peaceful settlement’.35 The Lombards however refused to yield and instead took measures, such as the rebuilding of the Lombard League (early November 1235), that escalated matters and made a peaceful settlement unlikely.36 Frederick’s attempts, however, to muster German resources were not wholly successful,37 and this forced the Emperor try to draw support from other quarters. Hence, in the latter part of 1235, and certainly in 1236, Frederick looked upon King Henry of England as more than his brother-in-law, he now wanted more important reciprocal benefits from their alliance. In early 1236 he contacted the king, asking him to act on his behalf, and at about the same time he suggested that Richard of Cornwall should join him Lombardy.38 In June 1236 Henry wrote letters to the pope and the cardinals on the Emperor’s behalf, urging them to assist Frederick in his 30 31

Ibid., 754–7; and Chronica regia Coloniensis, 267. Whilst held captive in Germany, King Richard I had to work hard ‘to prevent an alliance between his Capetian nemesis and his Hohenstaufen gaoler . . .’: R.V. Turner and R.R. Heiser, The Reign of Richard Lionheart: Ruler of the Angevin Empire, 1189–1199 (Harlow, 2000), 229. In 1198, Philip Augustus made an alliance with Philip of Swabia: J.W. Baldwin, The Government of Philip Augustus: Foundations of French Royal Power in the Middle Ages (Berkeley, California, 1986), 93. 32 For the Franco-Hohenstaufen alliance of 1212 see Reg. de Philippe Auguste, ed. J.W. Baldwin (Paris, 1992), vol. I, section VI, no. 67 (p. 513); and Baldwin, The Government of Philip Augustus, 205. For the alliance they completed in November 1224 see Huillard-Bréholles, vol. II, pt i, 462. 33 Stacey, Politics, Policy, and Finance under Henry III, 43. Henry’s difficulties in paying the dower are outlined ibid., 93–131. 34 E. Kantorowicz, Frederick the Second 1194–1250, trans. E.O. Lorimer (1931), 416. David Abulafia, on the whole neither as dramatic nor as enthusiastic about the Emperor as Kantorowicz, nonetheless advanced the same idea since he entitled his chapter on this topic ‘The End of Concord, 1235’: Frederick II, 290–320. 35 Abulafia, Frederick II, 290–1. 36 Huillard-Bréholles, vol. IV, pt ii, 796. 37 Abulafia, Frederick II, 292. 38 Royal Letters, i. 474–5 (no. CCCXCIII), and ii. 8–9 (no. CCCCXVIII); and Foedera, 228. Matthew Paris believed that Frederick wanted Richard to join with him in attacking France: CM, iii. 340. Cf. N. Denholm-Young, Richard of Cornwall (Oxford, 1947), 31 and n. 5.

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actions against the Lombards.39 He also pledged to pay Frederick 5000 marks of the overdue dowry as soon as possible.40 And what does this have to do with the appointment of Otto as legate? It is clear that Pope Gregory was drawn into a struggle with the Emperor beginning in early 1236; that is from the outset of Frederick’s concerted campaign against Lombardy. Their recent affinity, cobbled together at Rieti, collapsed soon after Henry (VII) had been removed. Already at Mainz in 1235, the Constitutio Pacis (also known as the Mainzer Landfriede) had been published, which laid down law concerning the restoration of order and criminal jurisprudence, and also hinted at the further inclusion of Germany into the larger Empire.41 So much for Gregory’s plan to sever the Empire. Very soon after the fault lines of their relationship were laid bare. Regarding Sicily, in 1236, whilst keeping a tone of civility, Gregory complained that imperial agents there plundered the churches, yet Frederick did nothing to stop such abuse.42 Regarding the crusade, the pope criticised Frederick for, on the one hand, diverting Imperial resources away from any crusade campaign and, on the other, for fighting in Italy and so keeping Italian resources at home.43 For his part, Frederick laid the ideological basis for his later actions. In May 1236, he outlined his position: ‘The glory of our position urges us to exact obedience and subjection from those over whom the Roman Empire holds sway.’ In case anyone missed the point on what this meant for the Lombards, he continued ‘our power encompasses that section of Italy and it should return to our obedience and to the unity of the Empire’.44 Within this charged sphere the pope did try to mediate between the Lombards and the Emperor as best he could and in spite of Frederick’s attempts to hinder his efforts (one example was the impossibly short deadlines Frederick set for a settlement) and to provoke his adversaries.45 How shocking it must have been then for the pope to receive the letters from King Henry in that same summer urging him to support the Emperor. As Lower suggested, Henry was in a peculiar position – as a papal vassal he ‘had the makings of a good papal ally’, but as Frederick’s brother-in-law ‘he had the makings of a good papal enemy too’46 – and the events of 1236 indicated that the balance had tipped toward the latter. Whereas Gregory had been the lynchpin of an unusual alliance in 1234 and early 1235, it now seemed that events and circumstances had overwhelmed him. The tripartite alliance he had formed then, where he was firmly in the lead position, had by the summer of 1236 transformed into a budding Anglo-Hohenstaufen relationship, and it was well outside his control. Clearly, he needed to do something to put an end to it. Here though he had to be careful for Frederick was adept at exploiting the words and deeds of others to serve his own benefit. Already in June 1236, interesting enough in a letter to King Louis of France, he had described how he was forced to punish what he called ‘rebellious subjects’ (referring here to the 39 40 41

Foedera, 228–9. Ibid., 223 and 228. This document was described as another of the ‘tendencies towards the strengthening and revival of imperial power’: K. Hampe, Germany under the Salian and Hohenstaufen Emperors, trans. R. Bennett (Oxford, 1973), 282. Van Cleve thought it was ‘more than a faint suggestion’ at the ‘incorporation of Germany within the framework of his World Empire’: The Emperor Frederick II, 383. 42 Huillard-Bréholles, vol. IV, pt ii, 813. 43 For a brief overview on this point see Lower, The Barons’ Crusade, 40–1. 44 Huillard-Bréholles, vol. IV, pt ii, 848. 45 Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II, 391–2: ‘Frederick must have recognized that it was most unlikely, if not impossible, that the Lombards would agree to these or any other terms’ (392). 46 Lower, The Barons’ Crusade, 134.

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Lombards), only to have his rightful measures thwarted by the pope, who had stepped in at the last moment.47 The suggestion here was of papal interference in the rightful governance of the realm, and this was a theme Frederick continued. In another letter, this one from September, he commented on how Gregory’s attempt to prevent an ‘abuse of ecclesiastical privilege’ was really the means by which he sought to undermine his longstanding rights, inherited from his predecessors.48 The war of parchment had begun in earnest and it was clear that the pope now had to tread carefully lest his actions be cast in a negative light. It must be emphasised that Gregory’s plan so far as possible was not so grandiose as to use Henry as a force against the Emperor, rather he wanted to isolate Frederick from any potential sources of support and to keep the struggle confined to northern Italy. Thus, the pope had to find some way to pull Henry III out of the relationship, and quickly, but he could not risk pushing him even closer toward the Emperor. He had recruited the ideal person to pull off this delicate task: Otto da Tonengo, a Cardinal who probably had first-hand knowledge of English matters49 and, more importantly to Gregory’s mind, was an experienced and trusted adversary of the Emperor. As described by the chronicler at Cologne, in 1228 Otto was sent as the legate to Germany and Denmark, where he was ‘to do injury to the Emperor’ or even to bring about a new election.50 Having found the means by which to attain his goal, Gregory turned to Henry’s recent appeals for a legate; which he had earlier rejected but now embraced eagerly as the perfect tool for his intrusion into English affairs. As noted earlier, in May 1236 Henry appealed for a legate and referred to the special relationship. When Gregory received this letter he rejected it, but only a few months later (in February 1237) – in the wake of the events of 1236 when Frederick’s ambitions were laid bare and the pope had learned of the Anglo-Hohenstaufen alliance – he made an about face and now referred to the special relationship himself. At the time of Otto’s appointment Gregory asserted that England belonged to the Roman Church ‘in a special manner’, and he now repeated this view time and again.51 What he had earlier dismissed and ignored now proved a useful instrument for his own political gain. Otto’s appointment marked a dramatic turning point in papal policy and practice. As noted, the legatine province entrusted to Otto comprised England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland. This was an extraordinary commission which, but for one exception, had not been seen since the time of Cardinal Peter Pierleone in 1121.52 Through the twelfth century Wales and England were merged into a single province (Wales was after all under the primacy of Canterbury53) and on occasion Ireland and Scotland 47 48 49

Huillard-Bréholles, vol. IV, pt ii, 880. Ibid., 905–7. Most historians agree that he had come to England as a nuncio in 1225–6 and delivered Honorius’s plan for papal financial reform: Councils & Synods, 155–8. 50 Chronica regia Coloniensis, 260–1. It must be remembered that although Otto was eventually reconciled with Frederick (this followed his capture along with the other prelates in 1241), he too felt the full fury of imperial wrath and spent the first months of his captivity in the same close imprisonment as Cardinal James of Palestrina, whom Frederick described as ‘a man who bears the form of a wolf in the clothing of a sheep’: CM, iv. 128–9. 51 Foedera, 234. 52 According to Eadmer, he was legate to Britain (England, Ireland and Scotland, including Orkney) and France: Eadmeri Historia Novorum in Anglia et opuscula duo de vita Sancti Anselmi et quisbusdam miraculis ejus, ed. M. Rule (RS, 1884), 294–5. Cf. Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland, 31. 53 From at least the 1140s: Canterbury Professions, ed. M. Richter (Canterbury and York Society 67, 1973), xcv and no. 93.

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were joined (as in 1180, 1201 and 1220) but, as Helene Tillmann and later MarieThérèse Flanagan discerned from the pontificate of Alexander III (1159–81) onward, there was a deliberate policy to separate England from both Scotland and Ireland so as to assert the complete ecclesiastical independence of each area.54 By Tillmann’s reckoning between 1100 and 1159, when the said Alexander became pope, legates to England were typically given authority over other areas as well: of the nine legates appointed within those years six held commissions for England, Scotland and/or Ireland whilst the remaining three were assigned to England alone.55 Between 1159 and 1237 however only one of the nineteen legatine missions saw England paired with another region, and that was the legation of Guala, who was allowed his authority as legate in England, Scotland and Wales between January 1217 and November 1218.56 The Melrose chronicler, commenting upon this, wrote: ‘For our lord pope granted to this legate a degree of authority hitherto unknown and unprecedented, for he had the power to do to the clergy throughout England, Scotland, and Wales, whatever entered his mind . . .’57 It is necessary to pause here for a moment to examine Guala’s legation in greater detail for it presents an interesting contrast to that of Otto’s. After his arrival in England in May 1216, Guala sent numerous letters and even nuncios back to the popes (both Innocent III and Honorius III) outlining the difficulties that he faced carrying out his duties. Honorius offered little real support, other than his advice that Guala do what he could to persevere and that he would support him in doing what he had to do for the king and the realm (this was contained in a letter from the pope dated 30 September 1216 and was reiterated in another letter from December of that year). He wrote to the legate: ‘But, concerning your petitions . . . we have allowed some, and some, because of their excessive gravity, we have not allowed, being wholly of one mind with a few of our brothers that in such matters, especially at this time, one should proceed more moderately.’58 The extension of Guala’s 54

H. Tillmann, Die päpstlichen Legaten in England bis zur Beendigung der Legation Gualas (1218) (Bonn, 1926), 154–5. She wrote ‘. . . we can assume that the curia, with this remarkable change in its legation practice, wished to give expression to the complete ecclesiastical separation of the two lands [England and Scotland]’: translated by Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland, 194 n. 21. To quote the original German, ‘. . . dürfen wir annehmen, daß die Kurie mit dieser auffälligen Aenderung in ihrer Legationspraxis der vollkommenen kirchlichen Trennung beider Länder hat Ausdruck geben wollen’: Tillmann, Die päpstlichen Legaten in England, 154. Concerning Ireland, Marie-Thérèse Flanagan wrote: ‘The pope [Alexander III] never contemplated the ecclesiastical subjection of the Irish church to the English church or actively fostered its anglicisation’: M.-T. Flanagan, ‘Hiberno-papal Relations in the Late Twelfth Century’, Archivium Hibernicum: or Irish Historical Records, vol. XXXIV (1976–7), 67. 55 Tillmann, Die päpstlichen Legaten in England, 155–6. 56 Cf. ibid., 156. There were two other appointments that at first glance seemed to run counter to the Alexandrine policy but apparently they did not break it. Archbishop Roger of York, whom Tillmann believed was legate in England and Scotland between 1164 and 1181, may in fact have not had a Scottish legation until 1180/81, and even then whatever legatine authority he had in England was limited to the archbishopric of York, and William Longchamp, the legate in England from 1190 to 1197, who was also given a commission for that part of Ireland belonging to England: ibid., 154–5; Ferguson, Papal Representatives in Scotland, 43–53 and 195; and especially English Episcopal Acta, Volume 20: York 1154–1181, ed. M. Lovatt (Oxford, 2000), liv–lviii and n. 16. Between 1190 and 1197 William Longchamp was legate in England and those parts of Ireland under English control: ‘. . . Wilhelm Longchamp, Bischof von Ely, von Clemens III. die Legation über England, Wales und den unter englischer Herrschaft stehenden Teil von Irland’: Tillmann, Die päpstlichen Legaten in England, 85. 57 Chronica de Mailros, ed. J. Stevenson (Bannatyne Club, Edinburgh, 1835), 129. 58 The Letters and Charters of Cardinal Guala Bicchieri, Papal Legate in England 1216–1218, ed. N. Vincent (Canterbury and York Society 83, 1996), xxxviii–xlv, and nos 86, 89 and 166–7; and Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland, 76.

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legatine province was outlined in a letter dated 17 January 1217, and it is clear from that document that the change was not made as a result of Guala’s repeated urging alone. Honorius stated that his requests had been thoroughly discussed, and more importantly, due consideration had been given to the appeals put forward by the king’s nuncio.59 This suggests that Honorius was very reluctant to make the change, that is to overturn the longstanding Alexandrine policy, and that he only did so when pressured by both the legate and the English royal government. It was clear that he was cautious in allowing Guala to exercise such power and the later legates he commissioned were not allowed to wield their authority over such a large province. Pandulf was the legate in England from December 1218 (he had been appointed the previous September) until the summer of 1221, but he was legate to England alone.60 He did carry out various tasks in Scotland, most notably arranging a peace settlement with King Alexander II, but this was only done through papal mandates and not as a result of his legatine status.61 Likewise, Master James was legate in Scotland and Ireland between 1220 and 1221 but he did not have similar authority in England.62 In short, Honorius seemed to have been respectful of the Alexandrine policy, and although he did abandon the course in 1217, it was in fact only a one-time challenge. This is in important, indeed stark, contrast with the events of 1237 and Otto’s legation, which saw the Alexandrine policy abandoned very easily, as well as completely. Unlike Guala’s commission, Otto’s appointment became the archetype for subsequent legatine missions. But not only were later legates, such as Gui Foulquois, Cardinal-bishop of Sabina, and Ottobuono Fieschi, Cardinal-deacon of S. Adrian, allowed to wield their authority over a British province,63 so too were lesser officials. For example, between 1246 and 1248 the papal nuncio John Anglicus collected a subsidy for the Roman church ‘in England, Scotland and Ireland’;64 in the mid-1250s another nuncio, Rostrand Masson, collected ecclesiastical taxation in Scotland and England;65 and in May 1266 Master Sinicius was named nuncio and general collector in England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland.66 Gregory’s abandonment of the policy may be regarded as a reasonable change. With John’s act of submission in 1213, ‘English lordship’ of Ireland ‘was put on a new and more clear cut legal basis.’ The ‘Crown now held that country [Ireland] as a papal fief . . . As far as the popes were concerned, the authentic legal basis of the claims of the papacy and English Crown to Ireland was in the submission made by John to Innocent III.’67 After 1213 Ireland was part and parcel of the special relationship that existed between the English Crown and the papacy, but the popes had 59 60 61 62

The Letters and Charters of Cardinal Guala, no. 168. Reg. Honorii Papae III, ed. P. Pressutti (Rome, 1888–95), no. 1621. Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland, 81–4. Reg. Honorii Papae III, nos 2590–1. His general mandate has not survived but these documents outline his legatine commission. 63 Reg. d’Urbain IV, ed. J. Guiraud and others (Paris, 1901–58), no. 581 (little should be made of the fact that Scotland was omitted from his legation as the pope knew he would have a hard enough time getting the legate into England, let alone to the northern kingdom – which accounts for the exceptional authority he was allowed to summon those subject to his legation to his presence overseas); and Reg. Clement IV, ed. E. Jordan (Paris, 1893–1945) no. 40. 64 Reg. d’Innocent IV, ed. E. Berger and others (Paris, 1884–1920), no. 3745. 65 Foedera, p. 322. 66 Reg. Clement IV, nos 764, 769, 771 and 784. 67 J.A. Watt, The Church and the Two Nations in Medieval Ireland (Cambridge, 1970), 84. ‘It should be remembered that the pope was feudal overlord of England since May 1213, committed to its interests and therefore to its policy for Ireland’: F.X. Martin, ‘John, Lord of Ireland, 1185–1216’ NHI, 152–3.

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not carried through with that idea and instead held to the Alexandrine policy of separation. Gregory however accepted the reality of Ireland’s position, and thus for him it only followed that if England received a legate than the same should also apply to Ireland. As for Scotland, the situation was very different since the kingdom had no connection to the special relationship that had come with King John’s surrender in 1213. Yet, as Gregory recognised, Scotland had a special relationship of its own with the papacy, based upon the papal bulla Cum universi, which stated that the Scottish church ‘should be subject, with no intermediary to the apostolic see, whose special daughter she is.’68 This proved to be a useful point of reference for the pope. In the letter to King Alexander, outlining the reasons why Otto had been appointed, Gregory explained that since the legate was going to England it was only proper that he should visit Scotland as well.69 The nuanced argument the pope seemed to be putting forth here was that the ‘special daughter’ analogy now hinged on the regular visitation of legates to the realm. Although it was easy for Gregory to abandon the earlier policy – that is by using means his predecessor had chosen to ignore – and in spite of the fact that it was also rational for him to do so, that does not explain the reasons why Gregory chose that course of action in 1237. For this answer we must return to the matter of Otto’s appointment. First, and now hinting at the pope’s real motives, it offered the legate the opportunity to investigate and to oversee various developments in almost all of Britain, which helped to limit any support that could have potentially gone to Frederick. Put another way, a Britain-wide legatine province would go a long way to keep Britain out of the conflict. But there was another reason at play. As explained above, Gregory’s plan was to confine Frederick’s activities to the northern part of Italy and to isolate him from any potential sources of support, not least of which was King Henry III. This meant that Henry’s interest in the Empire, indeed his continental interests, were to be curtailed, and as a consequence this would increase the likelihood of his greater involvement in British affairs. In short, Gregory was looking for Otto to implement a twofold policy: the first to separate Henry from the Emperor, and the second to keep Henry’s interests upon matters closer to his own kingdom. Moreover, there were already indications that the second part of his objective would not prove too difficult a task as it was clear from at least 1236 that Henry’s interests had already turned to British matters (but this is not to say that they impacted upon his Imperial policy). In a letter, from the early part of the year, he wrote of the troubling Welsh affairs, a need to deal with King Alexander of Scotland, and a proposed visit to Ireland.70 Gregory, having received numerous letters from the king outlining the difficulties that he faced in Britain,71 realised that Henry would need papal support on his side it he were to be successful. In other words, since Henry’s focus was to be upon the British Isles – as the pope wanted – it only followed that his legate should share a similar outlook. This is not to say that Otto was an active participant in Henry’s policy of aggrandisement throughout Britain, rather he provided the framework in which it could be implemented.

68 For a detailed overview of the granting of the bulla Cum universi and its significance see Ferguson, Medieval Papal Representatives in Scotland, 191–203. 69 Reg. Grégoire IX, no. 3629. 70 Royal Letters, i. 474–5 (no. CCCXCIII), and ii. 9–10 (no. CCCXIX). 71 Williamson has a short review of the letters that Henry sent to the pope concerning Alexander of Scotland: ‘The Legate Otto in Scotland and Ireland’, 15–18. His most recent source for the king’s British outlook could have been Walter of Cantilupe, the king’s aforementioned envoy to the curia, who probably arrived there before Otto received his Scottish commission: ibid., 17–18.

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It has been argued here that Otto’s mission was to check the Anglo-Hohenstaufen alliance and to keep England and the Empire from drawing any closer together, and the obvious question to ask is: how successful was Otto in his task? It seems that his efforts were already bringing results by the spring of 1238, if not earlier. Then, according to Matthew Paris, a large and international group of men joined with Frederick for his planned campaign against Brescia, and he stated that the king provided a large force under the command of Henry de Trubleville.72 The only source for this story is Matthew Paris, whose account here seems confused. First, the paragraph was written in the margin of his chronicle, suggesting that it was a later addition. According to Antonia Gransden, Paris ‘wrote within a year or so of the events he described’,73 and since this was written in the margin it would seem that that particular information was added even later. Second, he referred to John Mansel as accompanying this force. Yet, as recorded on the patent rolls, Mansel had been sent to Rome, the suggestion being that this was to meet with the pope.74 Third, Paris also recorded Henry’s efforts with the pope on Frederick’s behalf, which fits well with the known events of 1236, when Henry did indeed send such a letter to the pope. It is impossible to make a final judgment on Paris’s account but it should be treated with caution. Perhaps the best that can be said is that Henry was trying to position himself between the Emperor and the pope,75 which would be exactly what the pope wanted – the balance again restored. There was certainly English involvement in the Brescia campaign76 but it may not have had the king’s sanction, which would speak to Otto’s success if he had prevented Frederick from obtaining such support from Britain. Otto’s efforts were more clearly noted however in 1239, in a letter to King Henry (preserved by Matthew Paris) Frederick demanded that the king expel the legate from England and he made the telling comment that Henry had ‘disregarded the marriage agreement and the friendship entered into at the time of the marriage of Isabella, now the Empress’.77 As noted, she was the price paid for the alliance but now there seemed to be a great deal of buyer’s remorse. Moreover, Henry himself gave numerous indications that the alliance was unravelling. In response to Frederick’s letter asking him to expel the legate, Henry stated that he would be more receptive to Frederick’s appeals if his sister had been duly crowned Empress. Later it was clear that the relationship was at an end for he stated, ‘he was constrained to obey the mandates of the Pope and the Church more than other princes of the world because, as it is obvious, he is a subject or vassal of the Pope’.78 Frederick continued to try to draw Henry into the conflict, specifically by making the claim that the struggle with the papacy affected him just as much as any other ruler, but the king did not respond. Admittedly, Henry was just as reluctant to make a clear declaration for the pope at that time, which is not surprising since Gregory did not actively try to recruit him to the cause (or to tip the balance the other way). Gregory was content to detach Frederick from his allies, and so long as Otto kept Henry out of the fray then his legation was a success. 72 73 74

CM, iii. 485–6. A. Gransden, Historical Writing in England c.550–c.1307 (London, 1974), 360. CPR, 1232–47, 219, 220 (‘gone to the court of Rome’), 221 and 222. According to a patent letter dated 22 May, Mansel was to receive more information from William, the bishop-elect of Valence. They may have then journeyed together to Italy, for William was said to have accompanied de Trubleville: E.L. Cox, The Eagles of Savoy: The House of Savoy in Thirteenth-Century Europe (Princeton, 1974), 62. 75 I thank Professor Stacey for this point. 76 See Annales Placentini Gibellini (MGH Scriptorum XVIII), 479. 77 CM, iv. 4–5. 78 Ibid., and iv. 16–19; and Huillard-Bréholles, vol. V, pt i, 464.

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To conclude, it has been noted that Henry was ‘a pivotal figure in papal-imperial relations’.79 Unfortunately, Henry’s involvement was usually traced to the year 1238. As Michael Lower noted, ‘By early 1238 these relations were worsening rapidly as Frederick made war on the pope’s Lombard allies’, and he continued, ‘At the moment, with a papal legate shepherding him through his domestic travails, Henry seemed ensconced in the papal camp, and Gregory’s aim in the winter of 1238 was clearly to keep him there.’80 This view needs to be brought into sharper focus. Henry was indeed ‘ensconced in the papal camp’ by 1238 but the pope did not have to work that hard to keep him there. The hard work, as outlined above, was done in the previous year. When Gregory referred to Otto as a ‘great and honourable member of the Church’ (this at the time of his appointment), it was not hyperbole. Otto had been assigned legate to the larger part of Britain for a very political purpose: to curb a damaging alliance between the Emperor and King Henry III.

79 80

Lower, The Barons’ Crusade, 134. Ibid., 134–5.

Matthew Paris and John Mansel1

Hui Liu Matthew Paris was born around 1200, and became a monk at St Albans abbey in 1217. He started working on his most important work, the Chronica Majora, from around 1240, using material from other chroniclers, especially his predecessor at St Albans, Roger of Wendover, for the chronicle up to 1235, while his own writing started from the annal for year 1236. Before his illness and death in 1259 cut short his career, Matthew Paris had kept a spirited record of people and events from the entire known world, writing with a scope and extent unparalleled among contemporary chroniclers.2 John Mansel was probably born in Sussex around 1210, and began his working life as a clerk in the household of Ralph de Neville, bishop of Chichester (1222–1244). Probably through the bishop, who was also the royal chancellor, Mansel had become a household clerk of the king by 1234. He served the king in diverse capacities, such as keeping a roll of the receipt in the lower exchequer,3 and working as a buyer of the king’s wines,4 before his big break came in 1238, which Paris recorded. From then to his death in 1265, Mansel was a leading figure at court, constantly by the king’s side and enjoyed much royal favour. There is no doubt that the royal counsellor and the leading chronicler knew each other. Although Paris made no actual reference to any conversation between them, it is clear that much of what he wrote about Mansel could only have come from Mansel himself.5 Richard Vaughan notices a further piece of evidence for their acquaintance. Apparently, Mansel once lent a book to Matthew Paris. Paris compiled a volume on the Life of St Alban, and at one point in the margin of the text, written in Paris’s own hand is: ‘This according to the book of John Mansel: he (St Albans) was the leader and master of the knighthood of all Britain.’ [Hoc de libro Johannis Mansel: Erat [i.e. St Alban] nanque [sic] dux et magister militie tocius Britannie.]6 To be sure, Paris knew of plenty other royal servants and courtiers besides Mansel. However, a quick glance at the index of the Chronica Majora shows that few court figures received as much attention in Matthew Paris’s work as Mansel did. Mansel’s position and active involvement in the king’s business made him a valuable informant for Matthew Paris. Seen from Mansel’s side, contributing information Matthew Paris and John Mansel

1

I would like to thank my supervisor, Professor D.A. Carpenter, and Dr Susan Stewart for their comments and suggestions on drafts of this paper. 2 See R. Vaughan, Matthew Paris (Cambridge, 1958) and A. Gransden, Historical Writing in England, c.550–c.1307 (London, 1974), 356–379 for Matthew Paris’s life and work. 3 CR 1231–34, 466. 4 E.g., CR 1234–37, 395–6, 402, 442, 469; CLR 1226–40, 253, 282, 286, 303. 5 Richard Vaughan rightly included Mansel in Paris’s array of informants, Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 13–17. 6 Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 194–5. The Life of St Alban is in Trinity College, Dublin, MS E i 40 and the marginal note appears on fol. 22.

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about himself to Matthew Paris was perhaps an exercise in image-building.7 In this paper, I will examine what Matthew Paris wrote about John Mansel, in order to see how the relationship of the two men may have decided what was written in the chronicle. Matthew Paris followed Mansel’s career from the early 1240s and recorded about thirty incidents concerning him. In contrast, in the majority of the chronicles written in Henry III’s reign or immediately afterwards, Mansel is virtually absent before the baronial reform movement. This was possibly due to a lack of interest among monastic writers and their readers in high politics and clerical staff at court. Antonia Gransden has noted that ‘the typical thirteenth-century chronicler tends to concentrate on the affairs of his own house’, and only included ‘general history when they thought it of overriding importance’.8 The barons’ wars were such an occasion, and Mansel became visible in this context, appearing in no fewer than fourteen chronicles.9 Before 1258, apart from Matthew Paris, the Dunstable annalist was the only contemporary chronicler who was more interested in general history and included three incidents concerning Mansel in the 1240s–50s. One later chronicler, Thomas Wykes, also displayed an interest in Mansel and recorded two events. Otherwise, before the reforms, Mansel has only one peripheral appearance in the chronicle of Burton and one in the chronicle of Melrose; he is involved in one incident of local interest in the chronicle of Tewkesbury and one in the chronicle of Arnold fitz Thedmar.10 Of all Paris’s works, John Mansel appears in four: the Chronica Majora, the Historia Anglorum, the Flores Historiarum and the Gesta Abbatum. The Historia Anglorum and the Flores Historiarum were compiled using the material in the Chronica Majora. The Gesta Abbatum, Paris’s history of his house, however, is very different. The work was intended for the monks’ edification and for future abbots to learn how their predecessors had protected the monastery’s liberties.11 Mansel appears in it only in conjunction with his brother-in-law Geoffrey of Childwick, who allegedly attacked the abbey’s liberties. The references to Mansel in the Chronica

7

Mansel presumably also had posterity in mind. D. Knowles has pointed out that ‘public men realised that their share in events could best be preserved for posterity by judicious conversations at St Albans’, D. Knowles, The Religious Orders in England, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1948–59), i. 294. The king, for example, was well aware that Paris was keeping a chronicle and specifically told Paris to write about the Holy Blood ceremony of 1247. CM, iv. 644–5. 8 Gransden, Historical Writing, 406–7. 9 Burton, 447, 449, 452; Dunstable, 215, 223; The Historical Works of Gervase of Canterbury, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols (RS, 1880), ii. 211, 218, 222; Osney, 128; Chronica de Mailros, ed. J. Stevenson (Bannantyne Club, 1835) [hereafter Melrose], 191–2, 214; De Antiquis Legibus Liber. Cronica Maiorum et Vicecomitum Londoniarum, ed. T. Stapleton (Camden Society, 1846) [hereafter Cron. Maior.], 44–5, 67; Flores, ii. 467, 470, 481, 486; Waverley, 355; Winchester, 100; Worcester, 449; Furness, 541; Wykes, 135–6; Tewkesbury, 176; Annales Londonienses, Chronicles of the Reign of Edward I and Edward II, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols (RS, 1882), i. 64. The recovery of royal power in 1261 provided the first occasion in Mansel’s life when he appeared in more than just a couple of chronicles: he appeared in six. By far the most recorded event of Mansel’s life was his exile in June 1263, which is in eight chronicles. The drama of it might account for some of the interest. The public knowledge of his escape also shows that although his deeds during his thirty years in government were scarcely referred to by chroniclers, his position did not escape their notice, and thus his departure was deemed momentous. 10 Dunstable, 158, 188, 198; Wykes, 102, 112; Burton, 323; Melrose, 184; Tewkesbury, 147–9; Cron. Maior., 31–7. 11 Gransden, Historical Writing, 375–6.

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Majora can be divided chronologically into four groups, those in the annals for 1238 to 1247, for 1247 to 1250, for 1251 to 1253 and, finally, after 1253. Mansel’s first reference in the Chronica Majora – i.e. in chronological terms though it may not have been the first written reference – is with regard to his 1238 mission to Italy. Matthew Paris records that King Henry sent an army to northern Italy, in response to Emperor Frederick II’s call for assistance in his campaigns there. The funds for the English troops were entrusted to John Mansel and William Hardel. Throughout the summer of 1238, Paris says, the king’s army fought vigorously and captured some hostages, while Mansel ‘acted strenuously’ (‘strenue se gessit’). It is not clear how being in charge of money could be thus described; Paris seems to mean that Mansel indeed took up arms and joined in combat.12 This flattering short note was added in the margin and was perhaps written in after Paris got to know Mansel personally and heard the story from him, especially as Paris has a section in his main text on the emperor’s warfare in 1238 where Mansel is not mentioned.13 This marginal note may have been added as an explanation of Mansel’s rise at court. The mission of 1238 was a turning point in Mansel’s career: Mansel stayed in Italy until 1240 and, from his return he was given more and more responsibilities as well as a profusion of gifts by the king, including the church of Thame in Oxfordshire. Mansel’s presentation to Thame led to a dispute in 1241 between the king and Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln, the occasion for Mansel’s second appearance in the chronicle.14 Paris may have met Mansel by the time he wrote about the dispute. The controversy surrounding the presentation made Mansel’s name in the ecclesiastical circles. The story was recorded by another writer, the Dunstable annalist, who states briefly that the bishop ‘honourably recovered the prebend of Thame, which John Mansel had occupied with the king’s connivance’,15 while Matthew Paris tells the story in much more detail and with a highly favourable slant to Mansel.16 After a decade, the Franciscan Adam Marsh still remembered the episode and mentioned Mansel’s resignation of Thame in a letter.17 Mansel was given the church of Thame, attached to a prebend of the church of Lincoln, by a papal provision arranged by the king. In Matthew Paris’s account, Grosseteste then sent two archdeacons to the king, calling upon him to withdraw Mansel’s presentation. On behalf of the bishop, the archdeacons even offered another benefice in exchange, as Mansel was ‘circumspect and sufficiently learned’.18 Mansel went to the king to resign the church, saying that he did not want any discord between such noble personages to happen on his account.19 Paris proceeds to say that the king was then occupied with the campaign in Wales and did not take any action concerning Thame. So upon the court’s return to Westminster in September, Bishop Grosseteste repaired there to complain to the king personally. Again, Mansel offered to give up the benefice. Now confronted by the bishop, the king was keen to pacify him and gladly took up Mansel’s second

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

CM, iii. 485. CM, iii. 491. CM, iv. 152. Dunstable, 158. CM, iv. 152–4. Monumenta Franciscana, ed. J.S. Brewer and R. Howlett, 2 vols (RS, 1858–82), i. 185–6. CM, iv. 152–3. CM, iv. 153.

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resignation.20 Paris concludes that Mansel ‘deserved’ the richer benefices, Maidstone and Howden, which the king gave him shortly afterwards as compensation. The chronology is probably wrong here for Howden seems to have been given to Mansel by 1240.21 However, not only did Matthew Paris make no negative comments about Mansel’s pluralism, but he portrayed Mansel as humble and conciliatory. All the blame was on the king, who arranged for the papal provision, ignored the bishop’s request and Mansel’s first resignation, and in the end had to thank Mansel’s good sense and modesty to resign again, for the dispute to end. Next, Mansel’s actions during the 1242/3 Poitou expedition appealed to Paris’s patriotism and ensured him a high place in Paris’s regards.22 Chancery records show Mansel involved in the administration in Gascony in these years, dispensing money-gifts to the king’s Gascon supporters, arranging loans for the king’s expenses and serving as seneschal of Gascony for some months.23 Paris, however, chose to write about Mansel’s bravery in military action. In the skirmish outside Saintes, Paris named the earls of Leicester, Salisbury and Norfolk, John de Burgh and Ralph fitz Nicholas as deserving praise, and reported that ‘many French, among them Peter Orige, seneschal of the count of Boulogne, were captured by John Mansel, clerk and special counsellor of the king’.24 Later in 1243, some Gascon rebels blockaded themselves in the monastery of Vérin near Bordeaux. The king’s men laid siege to the place. Mansel, however, ‘strenuous in arms and fearless in spirit’ [in armis strenuus et animo imperterritus] could not stand the lack of action. He went right up to the monastery to look for a possible place to breach the wall. One man saw him from the inside, climbed up to the rooftop of the monastic church, and started hurling stones at Mansel. Taken by surprise, Mansel was hit hard on the leg and could not move out of the attacker’s range. Luckily, some friends of his who ‘loved him wholeheartedly’ [eum praecordialiter dilexerunt] rushed to his side and flung themselves on top of him, and thus saved his life. Mansel escaped with a broken leg, was lame for a long time afterwards and only recovered through ‘the diligence of the surgeons’ [industra ciruigicorum].25 Summing up the episode of Vérin, Paris gives Mansel the accolade of being among the ‘primos Angliae’ and explains that the king, having seen Mansel’s faithfulness and strenuousness, ‘de speciali specialiorem . . . sibi assumpsit in consiliis moderatorem’.26 20 21

CM, iv. 153–4. Durham Annals and Documents of the Thirteenth Century, ed. F. Barlow (Surtees Society 155, 1945), nos 123–6; CPL, i. 192. 22 CM, iv. 212. 23 E.g. CLR 1240–45, 156, 158; CPR 1232–47, 314, 349; CR 1237–42, 523; CR 1242–47, 1. In November 1242, Mansel was given the ‘custody of the land of Gascony until the king has provided a seneschal’; in February 1243, the king formally appointed him seneschal: CPR 1232–47, 345–6, 361. 24 CM, iv. 212. 25 CM, iv. 237. Matthew Paris was being unusually restrained on this occasion. Great ado was made of the injury. Even Peter of Savoy sent his personal physician Master Peter de Montibus to look after him. Mansel’s leg had clearly improved by 2 July, when, at Mansel’s instance, Master Peter was rewarded by the king with the promise of a benefice worth 30 marks a year: CPR 1232–47, 384. Apparently the king was so delighted by Mansel’s recovery that he made the gift from his own patronage. Mansel’s injury even inspired the court poet Henry d’Avranches to write a humorous poem, in the form of a speech of the king warning two surgeons to cure Mansel’s leg speedily or to face a trial: J.C. Russell and J.P. Heironimus, The Shorter Latin Poems of Master Henry of Avranches Relating to England (Cambridge, MA, 1935), 137–9, 157. 26 CM, iv. 237. Such a hierarchy in the council as suggested by Paris is not born out by the government records. Mansel witnessed two royal charters in late August 1243: CPR 1232–47, 393, 394. In both witness lists, Mansel’s name appears towards the end, giving precedence to bishops, household stewards and some knights.

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Further promotion came Mansel’s way in the following year, and Paris notes that Mansel and Paulin Peyvre, ‘prudent and circumspect men’, became chief councillors of the king.27 Not interested in the finer points of the workings of government, Matthew Paris did not say much about what Mansel did as a chief councillor, recording only that in 1245 Mansel was sent by the king to a gathering of the prelates, asking them not to give in to the pope’s requests for 10,000 marks in financial aid.28 Why did Matthew Paris have such a favourable opinion on Mansel in these years? It seems likely that he was impressed by how strenuous and courageous Mansel was in battle and admired his modesty. Paris apparently liked this quality in a clerk. Later he showed his approval, similar to that for Mansel over the Thame dispute, when he wrote about Henry of Wingham’s modest refusal to be put forward by the king as candidate for the bishop of Ely in 1257.29 By the next time Mansel was mentioned in the chronicle, however, Matthew Paris’s view of him had changed: gone was the unreserved admiration of 1241–3. Although personal contact between them continued, as Mansel seems to have been providing Paris with information, there is a new ambivalence and sometimes indifference in Paris’s accounts about Mansel between 1247 and 1250; the tone is terse, in contrast with the previous exuberance. In 1247, Mansel became keeper of the great seal and was appointed provost of Beverley by the archbishop of York. Paris gives these two pieces of news in one short paragraph.30 About the great seal, he says that Mansel received it ‘by the wish and at the request of the king, whose petition is imperious and compulsory’.31 This might have been Mansel’s explanation to Matthew Paris for why it had been impossible for him to refuse the appointment, and shows his humility and modesty again, but at the same time it seems to suggest that Matthew Paris did not think Mansel qualified for the post. It seems pointedly to say that the king’s wish was the only reason behind Mansel’s promotion. The chronicler’s disapproval of the king’s appointment becomes clear when we consider how complimentary he was when mentioning Mansel’s earlier promotions in the council, and especially when we compare this passage with that on William of Kilkenny’s appointment as keeper of the great seal in 1250. In 1250 Paris writes that ‘the king, taking wise counsel, gave the charge of the seal, which is . . . the key of the kingdom, to Master Walter [sic] of Kilkenny, a modest, faithful and learned man, and one well-skilled and prudent in canonical as well as civil law’.32 It is possible that the baronial demands in the 1240s 27 28

CM, iv. 294. The pope sent Master Martin to seek a subsidy of 10,000 marks from the English clergy in 1244. The king was also requesting an aid to pay for the expenses of the Poitevin campaign, so he sent Mansel to a gathering of the clergy in February 1245 to announce that the king forbade the prelates who held lands from him to raise money for the pope from those lands. CM, iv. 369–70, 375; Dunstable, 166 (Mansel is not mentioned there); W.E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England to 1327 (Cambridge, MA, 1939), 206–219. 29 CM, v. 589, 619–20, 635. 30 CM, iv. 601. Mansel was keeper of the great seal for two short periods: from 8 November 1246 to 30 August 1247 when he went on a mission to Brabant, and again from 10 August 1248 to 8 September 1249: CPR 1232–47, 508; CR 1247–51, 74; CPR 1247–58, 47. 31 CM, iv. 601; the translation is from J.A. Giles, Matthew Paris’s English History from the Year 1235 to 1273, 3 vols (London, 1854–89) ii. 209. 32 CM, v. 130; translation: Giles, Matthew Paris’s English History, ii. 353. When in 1255 Kilkenny gave up his custody of the seal upon his election as bishop of Ely, Matthew Paris describes him as having ‘praise-worthily kept’ the great seal: CM, v. 485, whilst Mansel was never thus praised for keeping the seal.

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for an accountable chancellor prompted Paris’s criticism of Mansel. But perhaps some ill feeling towards Mansel underlie his political views, as will be seen shortly. The next few references to John Mansel show Matthew Paris’s ambivalence towards him. Paris saw Mansel as an important informant, but did not care very much about him as a person. Paris records a secret foreign mission of Mansel’s in 1247.33 First the chronicler takes pains to stress the secrecy surrounding the mission, then says he knows what it was about, namely to negotiate a marriage between the Lord Edward and the daughter of the duke of Brabant, and finally he even reveals the messenger’s own thoughts on the outcome of their mission. While by making much of the secrecy Matthew Paris may be criticising the king for taking action through his councillors without consulting the barons,34 he also betrays his pleasure at being so well informed, presumably by Mansel himself. Next, in 1249, Paris records that Mansel was poisoned and for two days he was close to death. This description is only given as the reason why Mansel was absent at the enthronement of Archbishop Boniface when the king and his followers all attended the ceremony,35 which seems rather harsh and unsympathetic. Mansel’s acts of piety in 1250 failed to impress Paris. Paris says that in March 1250 the king took the cross with Ralph fitz Nicholas, William de Valence, Paulin Peyvre and other magnates and courtiers, and goes on to say that the abbot of Bury St Edmunds also took the cross, contrary to his position in church and frowned upon by many, while Mansel and Philip Lovel, clerks and councillors of the king, also swore to go on crusade.36 By separating the laymen from the religious and clerical, Matthew Paris seems to be against the latter group going on crusade, which is surprising as he had previously praised Mansel’s prowess in Italy and Poitou. Then in May/June 1250 a week-long general chapter of the Dominicans was held at Holborn.37 More than four hundred representatives of the Dominicans came together. The king attended the first day of the meeting and supplied the delegation with meals on that day. The queen did the same on the second day. The bishop of London, diocesan of the venue, prepared food for the third day. And on the fourth day Mansel followed suit. Afterwards other prelates, whom the friars had asked for help in the first place, undertook the task for the remaining days.38 Perhaps because of the Benedictine chronicler’s dislike for the mendicant order, and perhaps because Mansel’s act of charity, following the king, the queen and the bishop of London, seems much like a bid for popularity, Matthew Paris only gives him such a casual reference. The last time when Paris’s account of Mansel is tinged with distaste appears in late 1250, following the death of the bishop of Winchester. Paris relates how the king immediately focused on promoting the election of his half-brother Aymer, who was under-age and apparently insufficient in learning. And none other than Mansel and Peter Chaceporc, whom the king knew to be extremely clever at all kinds of

33 34

CM, iv. 623, 645. Indeed, no letters to the duke nor any instructions to the messengers were enrolled. The only evidence from the government records was the expenses given to Mansel after his return to England. In December 1247 to January 1248, a Jewish debt of over 60 marks was granted to Mansel, for the king had sent him to the duke of Brabant: PRO C 60/45, m. 11, while the abbot of Deulacresse delivered 50 marks which he owed the king to Mansel as the king’s gift: PRO C 60/45, m. 11 and CPR 1247–58, 7. 35 CM, v. 80. 36 CM, v. 101. 37 CM, v. 127. 38 CM, v. 127.

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persuasion, were sent to put pressure on the chapter.39 After fifteen days of cajoling and reasoning, they succeeded in inducing the chapter to vote for Aymer. Such a seemingly unprincipled action of Mansel’s would have been his last appearance in the Chronica Majora, had Paris ended the work with the annal for 1250 according to his original plan.40 The most likely reason for Paris’s change of heart towards Mansel in the annals for 1247 to 1250 appears in the annal for 1250, namely the disputes, starting in 1249, between Geoffrey of Childwick, John Mansel’s brother-in-law, and the abbey of St Albans. Paris says that Geoffrey married Mansel’s sister ‘in order to do more harm’ to St Albans abbey,41 while the abbot could not resort to legal action, as Mansel would help his brother-in-law. Paris puts in the mouth of a royal justice the words that there were two people in the realm against whom the justices dared not pass sentence: one was Richard earl of Cornwall, and the other was John Mansel.42 As Matthew Paris closely identified with his house and resented any threat to its interests, he was understandably angered by Geoffrey’s infringements on its liberties and by Mansel’s assisting him. Geoffrey was involved in quarrels and litigation with the abbey in 1249 to 1251. The years are significant. Richard Vaughan has established that, for contemporary events, while Paris probably wrote out rough drafts on pieces of parchment upon receiving information he wished to record, he only wrote up the text in the manuscripts a year or two later. The result is a time lag between the events and his writing.43 This means that a change of view on Paris’s part in 1249 would colour his narration of events which had taken place in 1247. Paris most likely wrote the unfavourable passages of 1247–50 whilst harbouring ill feelings towards Mansel and Geoffrey from 1249 to 1251. Geoffrey of Childwich was a household knight of the king from the early 1240s44 and held land in military service of St Albans Abbey.45 In 1249–51, he was embroiled in a number of disputes with the abbey, of which Matthew Paris records three instances in his works.46 In the first one, Geoffrey attacked John, the abbot’s servant.47 John was on his way back to the abbey, carrying a gift of venison from an archdeacon. Geoffrey saw the carcass, stopped John, struck out at him, and took 39 40 41

CM, v. 179. Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 61. Gesta Abbatum Monasterii Sancti Albani, ed. H.T. Riley, 3 vols (RS, 1867–9), i. 315; the translation is from R. Vaughan, Chronicles of Matthew Paris, Monastic Life in the Thirteenth Century (Gloucester, 1986), 74. 42 Gesta Abbatum, i. 316. 43 Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 9, 60, 61, 77. 44 He first appeared in the king’s service in August 1241 at the muster at Chester. The abbot of St Albans was quit as towards the king of the amount of service owed by him: CR 1237–42, 326. He also took part in the campaigns in Poitou in 1242–3: CPR 1232–47, 295, and in Wales in 1245: CLR 1240–45, 321. He received a yearly fee of 20 marks from the king, CLR 1245–51, 64, 116. 45 Geoffrey’s relationship with St Albans abbey, his lord, was normal at times, as testified by his witnessing various charters concerning benefactions to the abbey: CM, vi. 417, 419, 427. 46 These cases by no means cover all the disputes between Geoffrey of Childwick and the abbey. In 1250, for example, Geoffrey brought two suits in the Bench, one against the abbot and the other against Simon of Horton, a bailiff of the abbey, for seizing two sets of his livestock: CRR, xix. nos 2015, 2050, 2367. It turned out that both seizures were justly made to distrain Geoffrey for his appearance in the abbot’s court, to answer two different charges: that Geoffrey seized a horse from another bailiff of St Albans, and that he took oxen and cows from three people of the abbey. Geoffrey was amerced in both Bench cases, though one amercement was pardoned by the justice: PRO KB 26/141, m. 6d; KB 26/143, m. 10. 47 Gesta Abbatum, i. 316–17; translation: Vaughan, Monastic Life, 75; CM, v. 234.

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away the venison along with the horse he was riding on the pretext of his having been poaching in the king’s forest. Indignant, the abbot excommunicated Geoffrey and decided to take him to court for assault on a highway. A writ was obtained to initiate this suit, ‘his defender Mansel being either unaware or overruled’. Before the hearing, however, during a royal visit to St Albans in April 1251, the abbot brought up the subject before the king. But, according to the Chronica Majora, when the abbot saw ‘the lukewarmness of the justices and the remissness of the king and of John Mansel’ he abandoned the appeal.48 In the Gesta Abbatum, Paris says that the abbot was ‘placated by repeated prayers’, and seeing the king ‘gladly intercede for him [Mansel] and for almost all the great men at his court’, the abbot withdrew the accusation ‘lest we should be accused of some irregularity.’49 The second case related to hunting rights.50 In June 1249, Geoffrey obtained the right of free warren in his demesnes in Childwick and Redbourn,51 which appears to have overlapped with the rights of the abbey. The chronicler felt so strongly about this breach of liberties that he remonstrated with the king. The king replied that the pope also made grants ‘notwithstanding any privilege or indulgence’. Although after a short reflection the king added that he would think the matter over, ‘the memory of these words and promises died away with their sound’.52 The abbey, ‘as justice demanded, went on exercising [its] rights . . . because of this, an action was brought before the king (by Geoffrey)’. In the court coram rege, the king ruled against St Albans ‘by iniquitous justice’ and upheld his grant to Geoffrey, explaining his decision with an analogy that if he granted someone a manor which belonged to another person, the former owner should come to the king instead of seizing the manor back.53 St Albans was amerced for 50 marks.54 Paris bewailed that ‘all this was machinated by Geoffrey, egged on by Mansel’. As for the final case, the abbey recovered at great expense the manor of Newbury, which had been held from the abbey but had gone into the hands of the holder’s Jewish creditor. Geoffrey managed ‘by means of frauds and tricks which would take too long to enumerate’ to make the abbey lease him the manor at the original rent. Afterwards the abbot regretted the lease, and Geoffrey turned to Mansel for help. By Mansel’s mediation, the abbey gave Geoffrey a corrody in exchange for Newbury. Paris lamented that as Geoffrey was still young, a corrody for life would constitute a great loss to the abbey. At the end of all the disputes, Mansel managed to reconcile Geoffrey and St Albans. The reason Paris gave for the abbey’s acceptance of this settlement is ‘because Mansel could look after our interests and because we considered that we could not continue measuring our strength against him’.55 Paris was back on good

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CM, v. 234. Gesta Abbatum, i. 317. D. Crook, ‘The “Petition of the Barons” and Charters of Free Warren, 1227–58’, TCE, viii, 42–6 discusses this case and puts it in the context of other suits brought by the abbot of St Albans to protect the abbey’s free warren in the 1240s. 51 CChR 1226–57, 342. 52 CM, v. 129–30, translation: Vaughan, Monastic Life, 226. See also D.A. Carpenter, ‘King, Magnates and Society: The Personal Rule of King Henry III, 1234–1258’, Speculum 60 (1985), reprinted in his The Reign of Henry III (London, 1996), 78–9, 84. 53 Gesta Abbatum, i. 317–18; Vaughan, Monastic Life, 75. This principle was stated in Bracton, with this very case given as an example: Bracton on the Laws and Customs of England, ed. S.E. Thorne, 4 vols (Cambridge, MA, 1968–77), ii. 169; iii. p. xliii. 54 PRO C 60/49, m. 22; CM, vi. 252. 55 Gesta Abbatum, i. 318–19; translation: Vaughan, Monastic Life, 75–6.

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terms with Mansel again. As a consequence, starting from the annal for 1251, written after 1252 when Paris resumed composition, Matthew Paris’s lack of sympathy with Mansel appears mitigated.56 In 1251–2, Paris recounted how Mansel interceded or arbitrated in the disputes between Henry of Bath and the king, between the abbot and the convent of Westminster and finally between Philip Lovel and the king. Seen side by side with these instances, Mansel’s intercession with the abbey for his brother-in-law now became only one of many cases when the councillor tried to reconcile people, and not a high-handed bullying act against Matthew Paris’s long-suffering house. Still, Matthew Paris manages to give the impression that those friends of Mansel’s like Geoffrey of Childwick did not deserve help, and thus implies that by helping them, Mansel was doing himself a disservice. At the same time, in Matthew Paris’s narrative, Mansel cuts an impressive figure, appearing to be courageous and loyal, cunning and resourceful. First in time was the disgrace of Henry of Bath, a senior judge.57 At the Candlemas parliament of 1251, the king first heard of accusations that the judge took bribes. He was scandalised and ordered that Henry be detained immediately. Despite the king’s anger, Mansel offered to stand bail for Henry. The king retorted sharply that he would not take surety from a clerk in a case of high treason. Later during the trial, as more and more accusations were made against Henry of Bath, the king was enraged; he jumped to his feet and declared that he would pardon anyone who would kill Henry, and stormed out of the hall. Henry’s friends and enemies were left facing each other, glowering with hostility. The enemies would have acted on the king’s departing words were it not for Mansel’s intervention. Mansel calmly said to the assembly, ‘My lords and friends, we should not follow hastily what is said in rage. The king will regret this outburst as soon as his ire elapses. Besides, if any of you should harm Henry, would the bishop of London and his other friends here not take any action?’ With these words, Mansel defused the situation. Paris’s description of the parliament of February 1251 seems vivid and realistic and devoid of the devices, such as attributing the story to rumour, which he sometimes uses to distance himself from his account. It might have been what actually happened and was related to Paris by Mansel. At least Paris thought Mansel capable of showing much courage and firm loyalty to his friend. Around Michaelmas 1251, Philip Lovel, a justice of the Jews, was accused of taking bribes too. He was dismissed from the king’s service.58 Lovel turned to Mansel for help, who tried interceding with the king but did not get far.59 Lovel was pardoned after agreeing to a payment of 1,000 marks, but could not return to the king’s service. Three months later, when the court was in York for the wedding of Margaret, the king’s daughter, and Alexander III of Scotland, Lovel seized his chance and asked the Scottish king to intervene for him.60 On 5 January 1252, after celebrating the feast of St Edward, Alexander knelt down in front of King Henry, 56 57 58 59

Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 61. CM, v. 213–14, 223–4. Bath’s disgrace is also in Wykes, 101, though Mansel does not appear there. CM, v. 261–2, 270–1. Mansel was Lovel’s patron in a way, as Paris mentions that Mansel had introduced Lovel into royal service when the latter was a steward of Roger de Quincy, earl of Winchester. For Lovel, see G.G. Simpson, ‘The Familia of Roger de Quincy, Earl of Winchester and Constable of Scotland’, in Essays on the Nobility of Medieval Scotland, ed. K.J. Stringer (Edinburgh, 1985), 102–30, at 110. It is not clear how Mansel met him. Lovel’s earliest recorded connection with the court was in July 1249 when he received five oaks from the king. He was made justice of the Jews later in the same year. Then in March 1250, along with Mansel, he took the cross with the king: CR 1247–51, 177, 234; CM, v. 101. 60 CM, v. 270–1.

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and said that as his father had died and his mother had returned to her native country, he now resolved to look upon Henry as his parent for counsel and protection. But as soon as Henry expressed his willingness to counsel and protect the young king, the boy said in an un-childlike manner (non puerliter), ‘to show your sincerity, could you give me a first gift of remitting all offences of Philip Lovel . . . and receiving him back to your service? Because I learned from reliable sources that Lovel was wrongly accused.’ Hearing such entreaties, the king ‘benigne concessit’. Paris concludes by saying Mansel was behind the operation: ‘huic negotio efficax adjutor et instructor fuit Johannes Mansel potissimus’. Mansel may well have staged the scene of the petition and devised the words which were clearly meant to evoke the king’s childhood memory, and he was probably the ‘reliable sources’. In the summer of 1252, Richard of Crokesley, the abbot of Westminster,61 hoped to raise his income and took possession of three manors which belonged to the convent and asked for the king’s sanction.62 Enraged at the request, the king hurled ‘unmentionable reproaches and insults’ at the abbot. Mansel and other unnamed friends of the abbot tried to mediate to no avail. The abbot, wishing to placate the king, nominated Richard of Cornwall and Mansel to arbitrate between himself and the convent.63 In mid-August, as recounted by Matthew Paris, Mansel and the earl awarded the three manors to the convent ‘so that they would please the king’ – and not that because it was just. Intercessions dominated the narrative on Mansel in 1251 to 1253; afterwards, from 1253 to 1259, Mansel’s foreign missions became the main theme of his references in the Chronica Majora. Mansel finally recovered his daring image of the early 1240s. Matthew Paris and John Mansel were now firmly back on good terms. Mansel took great care to present himself in the best light possible to Paris, and Paris was keen for information from the now leading diplomat. With Paris’s help, Mansel actively engaged in image-building and consciously tried to defend his stance in foreign affairs. In 1253 Mansel went on his most important mission, which led to the Treaty of Toledo and the marriage between the Lord Edward and Eleanor of Castile. Mansel first went to Castile in August 1253 with the bishop of Bath. Then in February 1254 he was in Gascony to meet with Henry and report on his progress. In March 1254 he returned to Castile with the bishop of Hereford to carry on the negotiations. One thing immediately noticeable is that Matthew Paris knew very well that Mansel was the prime mover of this marriage alliance.64 Paris speaks of Mansel and the bishop of Bath carrying out the business ‘effectively, with inestimable effort and attentiveness’, and notes how Mansel assuaged Henry’s worries when Alfonso X requested

61

CM, v. 230–1, 238–9, 303–4. The abbot was described by Paris as an intimate friend of Mansel’s and had gone to Brabant with him in 1247. 62 A papal letter of May 1251 shows that the abbot appealed to the pope to have the division between the estates of the abbot and those of the convent altered. The pope commissioned the bishop of Rochester and none other than Mansel to annul the existing arrangements concerning the division of the goods of the monastery: CPL, i. 271. 63 In a letter close issued in July 1252 and authorised by Mansel, the king sent two messengers to the monks to convey the king’s willingness to endorse any decisions Mansel should make: CR 1251–53, 228. 64 CM, v. 396–7. Mansel’s crucial position in the negotiations is also known to the two other annalists that mention this foreign mission. The Dunstable annalist notes Mansel’s two trips to Castile with two different bishops, wrongly given as those of Chichester and Worcester: Dunstable, 188. The Burton Abbey annalist says that, at Edward’s wedding feast at Burgos, on the bridegroom’s side there were present ‘Richard earl of Gloucester, John Mansel the clerk who procured the marriage, and certain others who accompanied the Lord Edward there’: Burton, 323.

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to see Edward first. Paris attributes to Mansel’s initiative – and not both envoys’ – the privileges promised by Alfonso to English pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela. Furthermore, while the bishop of Hereford, Mansel’s fellow envoy in the second round of negotiations, is named in the letter of proxy which Paris copied into the Additamenta, he is nowhere to be seen in the narrative of the mission.65 The next mission, that is Mansel and the earl of Gloucester’s operation at Edinburgh castle in 1255, is given in the Chronica Majora as a tale of daring.66 In August 1255, Henry set out to effect a change in Scottish government. With Alexander and Margaret in Robert de Ros’s custody, the king could take no action until their safety was assured, so the earl of Gloucester and Mansel were appointed to deliver them to safety.67 This rescue operation is one of the more dramatic moments in Mansel’s life and, from Paris’s atmospheric description, Mansel, now almost fifty years old, must have told him the story with great relish.68 Apparently it was not within the means of Gloucester and Mansel to seize the castle by force. Leaving a group of selected attendants to follow them at a distance, the earl and Mansel, ‘most eloquent and discreet men’ [viri facundissimi et discretissimi], pretended to be household knights of Robert de Ros and entered the castle unchallenged. One by one, their followers then slipped into the fortress in disguise. The earl and Mansel carefully searched the castle until they found the young queen, who, upon seeing the familiar faces of her rescuers, started complaining about her condition. They managed to calm her down and let her and her husband sleep together in one bed.69 In 1256, Paris gives an account of Mansel’s mission to France. The king was working on a strategy for a military campaign in Sicily and decided that the most convenient route for his army to arrive at Sicily would be to cross the territory of Louis IX of France. For this he needed Louis’ permission. Paris says that Mansel was the first person that the king thought of sending to France.70 Whilst in France, Mansel heard that the papal army had just been disastrously defeated in Sicily. He then left for home and told Henry that it was not worth troubling about the Sicilian affair anymore: ‘nec opportuit amplius de Sicilia . . . sollicitari’.71 Mansel’s apathy towards the Sicilian project is evident. Doubtful of the Sicilian business himself, Paris may well have been publicising Mansel’s reservations about the project. Mansel’s final foreign mission before the reforms was the 1257 visit to Germany with the earl of Gloucester. Richard earl of Cornwall was elected on 13 January

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CM, vi. 284. CM, v. 504. On 28 August 1255, Ros’s Wark castle was taken into the king’s hands, and the earl of Gloucester and Mansel were empowered to ‘conduct [Alexander and Margaret] safely to the king’s presence’: CPR 1247–58, 423. 68 CM, v. 504–6. 69 CM, v. 506. Mansel and Gloucester’s rescue mission in Edinburgh in 1255 is given in the Melrose chronicle, but only the earl, and not Mansel, is mentioned. Mansel first appears in this rather partisan Scottish chronicle in 1258, leading an army to Scotland with the intention of capturing King Alexander. Melrose, 184. It was actually the occasion when Mansel, Peter of Savoy and Montfort went to mediate between the two factions after the Comyns’ coup in October 1257. The rescue mission at Edinburgh is in the Dunstable chronicle as well: Dunstable, 198. Dunstable’s account is less dramatic than Paris’s though their main facts correspond. 70 CM, v. 515–16, 547–8. In the chancery rolls, however, Mansel was not sent to France alone in January 1256 but with Bertram de Criel: CPR 1247–58, 457, 460. The existing truce, arranged by Montfort and Peter of Savoy in June 1255, and running from October 1256 to October 1259, had barely begun. CPR 1247–58, 411; CR 1254–56, 195–6. 71 CM, v. 547.

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1257.72 A few days later, Mansel and Gloucester, two ‘powerful, wise and cautious men’ [viri potentes, sagaces, et circumspecti], went to Germany to observe the state of affairs following the election and to assess the strength of support for Richard among the nobility and the towns. Upon their return, they gave a promising account to the Lent parliament of 1257 of how the Germans welcomed the earl of Cornwall as their king.73 Writing with hindsight, that Paris should take pains to clarify that the envoys had no way of knowing that the Castilian king would shortly emerge as a contestant for the throne shows that the chronicler was helpfully trying to dispel any blame on Mansel and Gloucester.74 That Mansel put a gloss on his actions when relating matters to Paris is best shown in an embezzlement trial of 1258 which ended in the dismissal of the mayor and some aldermen of London from office. In Paris’s description, first in 1257, the king ordered the walls of London to be repaired, the cost of which was to be covered by a collection from the citizens.75 In the next year, some Londoners complained to the king that those in charge of collecting money for the walls had appropriated some of the funds. Mansel saved the accused from death sentence by interceding with the king.76 A dozen pages later, still in 1258, Paris says that (this time no mention was made of Mansel) the accused were punished, whilst the ringleader, the mayor Ralph Hardel, ‘died from grief ’ [prae dolore obiit].77 A different version of the event, however, is in the chronicle of Arnold fitz Thedmar. In this account, fuller and more accurate than Paris’s, through an inquiry conducted by Mansel, the king successfully drove out his opponents in the municipal government by manipulating the populace and bypassing the customs of the city.78 The king appointed Mansel to lead an investigation when he learned from a roll ‘mysteriously planted in the king’s wardrobe in Windsor’ that the mayor of London, when collecting a tallage, favoured the richer citizens to the detriment of the poor, and that he appropriated some of the funds collected.79 This mention of a ‘mysterious roll’ suggests that the central government seized on some vague complaints – if not actually fabricated them – to start an inquiry. Mansel set out on the task immediately. He summoned a folkmoot on 27 January, and asked for the election of thirtysix men to give evidence. Based on the investigation, eight men were then charged. The defendants asserted their right to prove their case by ‘the custom of London’, which, according to the aldermen present at the trial, was by twelve oath-helpers.

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N. Denholm-Young, Richard of Cornwall (Oxford, 1947), 86–8; C.C. Bayley, ‘The Diplomatic Preliminaries of the Double Election of 1257 in Germany’, EHR lxii (1947), 457–83. 73 CM, v. 603–4, 620–1, 624–5. 74 Denholm-Young was no doubt right in his remark that Mansel and Gloucester were well aware of Alfonso’s candidature, but they carefully concealed it from people in England so that there would not be so much criticism of this new foreign engagement. Denholm-Young, Richard of Cornwall, 96. 75 CM, v. 634. 76 ‘Unde accusati et convicti, vix sunt a mortis, discrimine intercessione domino Johannis Mansel liberati’: CM, v. 663. 77 CM, v. 675. 78 Cron. Maior., 31–7. It was a job well done for the king, and the result was that during the first part of the baronial reform movement, the city’s leaders were all royalists: G.A. Williams, Medieval London: From Commune to Capital (London, 1963), 211. The anger of the victims must have been behind an attack on Mansel’s men by some Londoners in July 1258: PRO JUST 1/1187, m. 24d; A.H. Hershey, ‘An Introduction to and Edition of the Hugh Bigod Eyre Rolls, June 1258 – February 1259: PRO JUST 1/1187 and JUST 1/873’ (University of London Ph.D. thesis, 1991), i, A340, A341. 79 On 26 January 1258, the king appointed Mansel, along with a household steward and a wardrobe clerk, to inquire into the allegations made by some Londoners, concerning fraud and peculation of the mayor and his accomplices whilst collecting the latest tallage. CPR 1247–58, 614.

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The king was not satisfied with such a procedure. He ordered a folkmoot on the following day. The gathered populace was asked whether the law and custom of the city allowed a bailiff who had treated them unjustly to defend himself and be acquitted of all consequences of his offence solely by the oath of twelve men, and the people vehemently denied it. Having manipulated the Londoners to give such an answer, the commissioners not only deprived the defendants of this form of defence, but also made the aldermen appear to have given false evidence. The defendants were in mercy, and all the aldermen, the sheriffs and the chamberlain were removed from office. Shortly afterwards, a general election returned many of them to office, but those close to mayor Hardel were left out of public positions. It seems likely that Mansel’s reputation for intercession may explain the readiness with which Paris accepted his glossed-over and much simplified version about his involvement in this trial. However ready Mansel was to provide Paris with information, Paris seems to have had other sources of information when Mansel’s wealth was concerned. The account of the struggles between Geoffrey of Childwick and St Albans in the Chronica Majora provides the first instance when Mansel’s wealth and family were touched on. Paris says that Mansel’s income equalled that of a bishop, while his sister Clarice is described as ‘the daughter of a country priest and still childless, exalted herself in her pride above her station, to the derision of all; and her husband was believed to have been infatuated by her suggestions’.80 A person’s parentage and state of childlessness were perhaps more important criteria in Paris’s judgement of a woman than of a man, but here no doubt Paris was gleeful when reporting his enemy’s dubious birth. Later, in 1252, Paris discloses that Mansel accumulated 700 marks of rent in that year alone, making his total annual income 4,000 marks and him the wealthiest clerk in the realm. Paris also registers his surprise that Mansel, being circumspectus, should not fear to accumulate the care of so many souls when he would have to account for them.81 The figures were a gross exaggeration. Mansel’s income at its peak after 1256 would just about reach 2,000 marks a year, while in 1252 Mansel only acquired Worth, Kent, worth £5, and took on lease three manors for £20 a year.82 Paris’s exaggeration shows that Mansel’s wealth was attracting comment, although there is no real condemnation in Paris’s words. Later on the size of Mansel’s fortune took on legendary dimensions in the Melrose chronicle.83 What did Mansel do with his wealth? Amongst accounts of Mansel’s foreign missions, Paris gives a glowing description of Mansel’s banquet in honour the king and queen of Scotland in August 1256.84 On 29 August 1256 Mansel invited to a great luncheon ‘the kings and queens of England and Scotland, earls, barons and knights, the bishop of London and many London citizens’. There were too many guests to be contained in Mansel’s house at Tothill, and marquees were set up for the refreshments. The number of guests was so great that 700 dishes prepared for the first course were scarcely enough. Paris concludes that ‘it has never been seen in any time that any clerk has been able to throw such a splendid feast, so serene, abundant and sumptuous’. The tone is that of admiration. Paris makes no disparaging remarks 80 81 82

CM, v. 129; translation: Vaughan, Monastic Life, 226. CM, v. 355. H. Liu, ‘John Mansel, Councillor of Henry III: His Life and Career’ (University of London Ph.D. thesis, 2004), 165–87. 83 This chronicler puts Mansel’s annual income at over 18,000 marks. Melrose, 214. 84 CM, v. 574.

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about Mansel’s wealth, perhaps considering the money well spent.85 Paris seems genuinely impressed by the feast, judging from his glowing comments with such an array of adjectives and adverbs at the end. This feast displayed splendidly to the great and the good of the realm Mansel’s wealth and connections. Paris was probably invited to Mansel’s banquet in 1256. It seems reasonable to presume that Paris was present at another occasion even more important to Mansel, the dedication ceremony of Bilsington Priory, Mansel’s religious foundation in Kent. Surprisingly, there are some errors and imprecision in the passage regarding the foundation in the Chronica Majora. The ceremony was actually held in early June 1253, which the king and the court attended.86 It is in the annal for 1258, however, that Mansel’s foundation was recorded.87 Furthermore, Paris appears to know only vaguely about the house. He mentions the order, but cannot name the location, giving the description of ‘near Romney, two miles from the sea’ instead.88 The mistake of the foundation year is perhaps the biggest factual error concerning Mansel in Paris’s works. Apart from the dating itself, Paris certainly did not include the foundation in his narrative when writing up the main events of 1253. There is a possible explanation though. Paris probably made a rough draft of an account of the foundation on a piece of loose parchment in 1253, but never incorporated it into his chronicle. Towards the end of his life, his scribe copied some of the materials he had prepared onto the manuscript without much attention to the chronology.89 There is one piece of supporting evidence for the hypothesis that Paris did not mistake the year of foundation for 1258: Mansel became treasurer of York in January 1256, upon which Paris stopped using Mansel’s title of provost of Beverley in favour of the more exalted one. Here in connection with Bilsington in 1258, Mansel is styled provost of Beverley – though he appears as treasurer of York only 20 pages before. Furthermore, perhaps Paris, who had the habit of writing a summary of a person’s character after the notice of his death, was saving that information for Mansel’s epitaph. The scribe did not know that (the draft was not properly dated, and Paris did not make a note of his intention) and assumed that Bilsington was only just consecrated, and that Paris had not had the chance to write it up. Paris died in June 1259 and Mansel is only mentioned in the Chronica Majora twice again, and fleetingly, after Bilsington. Paris records that he was among the messengers sent by the baronial council to meet Richard of Cornwall in France in January 1259, and a few months later he was in the embassy to France for the on-going peace negotiations.90 These two missions were seen by Paris merely as the latest in a long line of Mansel’s foreign missions. His continuator, the writer of the St Albans Flores, picks up the story and records the return of the envoys (except for Simon de Montfort) from France.91 Unlike in a novel, where the characters are carefully thought out beforehand and are built up gradually in specifically controlled stages, Matthew Paris portrays Mansel differently throughout his work, depending on the current relationship between the 85 86 87 88 89 90 91

CM, v. 574–5. The Cartulary and Terrier of the Priory of Bilsington, Kent, ed. N. Neilson (London, 1928), no. 1. CM, v. 690–1. CM, v. 690. For Paris’s method of making rough drafts, see Vaughan, Matthew Paris, 9. CM, v. 732, 741. Flores, ii. 428.

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two men. Thus at first, in his narration of events before 1247, he seems very impressed with Mansel’s courage. In the annals for 1247 to 1250, his accounts show a lack of sympathy with Mansel because of the quarrels between St Albans abbey and Geoffrey of Childwick from 1249 to 1251, but they also show Paris’s willingness to make use of information provided by Mansel. The cases of Mansel interceding for friends between 1251 and 1253 reveal an improved relationship between Paris and Mansel after the latter successfully reconciled his brother-in-law with St Albans abbey. Finally, the last few annals show that Paris was not only familiar with Mansel’s diplomatic missions, but also positively helping to enhance Mansel’s public image. Whether Paris was saving the information about Bilsington for Mansel’s epitaph or not, in the passage on the priory he gave a fair summing up of Mansel’s qualities: circumspectus, prudens et dives, Mansel enjoyed the king’s affection and worldly prosperity, but he used his wealth to build a religious house.92

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The Burial of Noblewomen in Thirteenth-Century Shropshire1

Emma Cavell The romance of Fouke le Fitz Waryn speaks of a harmonious relationship between the sometime outlaw Fulk FitzWarin III of Whittington and his beautiful and wealthy first wife Dame Maud ‘de Caus’2 who, amid the turbulence of the Welsh frontier, bore Fulk several surviving children. When Maud died around 1226 she was buried in the New Abbey at Alberbury, on Shropshire’s western border, which her husband had founded a short time before (‘E, n’I a geres après, morust dame Mahaud de Caus, sa femme, e fust enteree en cele priorie’).3 For his part, Fulk FitzWarin went on to marry another beautiful and high-born Englishwoman called Clarice d’Auberville, with whom he probably sired further children; when husband and wife died within a year of each other, in the late 1250s, both were also interred at Alberbury.4 Although the burial location of Fulk FitzWarin’s two wives is recorded only in the romance, the harmony, if not affection, between Fulk and the Lady Maud, his first wife, is attested by Fulk’s original grants to the priory, where he remembers Maud’s soul in the pro anima clauses of his charters.5 Indeed, the charters reveal that Fulk FitzWarin continued to include his first wife – the lady who had borne him a son and heir – among those for whom he sought spiritual relief for nearly thirty years after her death. In 1252, despite his marriage to Clarice d’Auberville, he gave his own body for burial in the priory for the health of his soul and those of his first wife Maud, his father Fulk and his mother Hawise, each of them long dead. The grant was made with the consent of his son and heir by Maud, the future Fulk FitzWarin IV of Whittington.6 The purpose of this paper is to examine the surviving evidence for the interment of noblewomen associated with Shropshire and the adjacent marcher region in the long thirteenth century. While much has been written about the religious patronage and spiritual remuneration of the lay aristocracy of post-Conquest and high medieval England, and – to a lesser extent – on the place and function of women within this,7 Burial of Noblewomen in Shropshire

1

An earlier version of this paper was given at the International Medieval Congress at Leeds, in July 2005. 2 Fulk FitzWarin’s first wife, whom he probably married in 1207, was actually Maud le Vavasour, daughter and heiress of Robert le Vavasour and widow of the powerful Lancashire baron Theobald Walter. 3 Fouke le Fitz Waryn, ed. E.J. Hathaway and others (Oxford, 1975), 38–9. 4 Ibid., 38–9, 59, 61. 5 Bodleian, MS DD. C.1, nos 1, 2, 107, 115. 6 Bodleian, MS DD. C.1, no. 115. 7 See for example Emma Cownie, Religious Patronage in Anglo-Norman England, 1066–1135 (London, 1998), vii; Emma Mason, ‘Timeo Barones et Dona Ferentes’, in Religious Motivation: Biographical and Sociological Problems for the Church Historian, Studies in Church History 15 (Oxford,

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the importance of burial location to the medieval English lady is a rather more neglected topic. Historians such as Jennifer Ward and L.L. Gee recognise that death and burial, so carefully prepared for by the lay aristocracy, offered several key choices to the English noblewoman: she could be buried alone (perhaps in her own foundation), or with either her natal family or her husband.8 Within this, I suggest, were further choices: the woman who had married more than once might choose between husbands; the woman whose natal and marital families were associated with several houses might select one, or divide her body. In other cases, as I shall presently discuss, a woman might be laid to rest at a religious house associated with her husband but in which he was not himself buried. Peter Coss has also raised the possibility that female members of a family might be interred together, away from their male kin.9 As yet, however, there has been no systematic examination of female burials during the thirteenth century, either across England as a whole or within an individual county or region. What follows, therefore, is an assessment, albeit cursory, of the motives, influences and pressures that came to bear upon a noblewoman’s choice (if, indeed, it was her choice) of burial site. Chiefly based on the evidence of pre mortem burial arrangements in Shropshire’s surviving monastic cartularies, my paper by no means pretends to a definitive assessment but seeks to open up a critically important avenue of investigation.

I To begin with, a basic pattern of burial among the noblewomen of the region under consideration in this paper may be gleaned from the fragments of evidence available. My research has revealed thirty-three ‘Shropshire’ women from 1150 to 1350 for whom, as for the wives of Fulk FitzWarin III, some reference to burial place exists and for whom certain key precedents or factors influencing the choice of burial location may be identified. The women in this study belong to various strata of the Shropshire and marcher nobility, from members of the upwardly mobile FitzAlan family of Clun and Oswestry, and later earls of Arundel, to the numerous daughters of the local county knight, Sir Roger Musson of Uppington in central Shropshire; and they represent roughly 5% of the women of the region for whom we have record in the period under investigation.10 For the present purposes no consistent attempt is made to differentiate between the practices of members of the upper nobility and their lesser noble counterparts, although a comparative study of female burials of the high aristocratic and lesser, knightly classes over a wider geographical area would almost certainly bear fruit. Of the sample of thirty-three ladies, fourteen (or 42.5%) were buried in locations associated, or probably associated, with their marital families. By this I mean that 1978), 61–75. J.T. Rosenthal, The Purchase of Paradise: Gift-Giving and the Aristocracy, 1207–1485 (London and Toronto, 1972), 17; Jonathan Riley-Smith, ‘Family Traditions and Participation in the Second Crusade’, in The Second Crusade and the Cistercians, ed. Michael Gervers (New York, 1992), 101–8; Benjamin Thompson, ‘From “Alms” to “Spiritual Services”: The Function and Status of Monastic Property in Medieval England’, Monastic Studies 2 (1990), 227–62. 8 Jennifer Ward, Women in Medieval Europe 1200–1500 (London, 2002), 233; idem, English Noblewomen in the Later Middle Ages (London and New York, 1992), 160–1; Loveday Lewes Gee, Women, Art and Patronage from Henry III to Edward III, 1216–1377 (Woodbridge, 2002). 9 Peter Coss, The Lady in Medieval England 1000–1500 (Stroud, 1998), 80. 10 A very rough estimate puts the total number of recorded women in the thirteenth century, of all levels of noble and knightly society, at around 800.

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there is evidence of a link between the eleemosynary, if not also burial, interests of the husband and/or his immediate family and the place of the woman’s interment. It is typically accompanied by a break from the preferences of, or precedents set by, the woman’s natal family. Against these fourteen ladies were twelve (just over 36%) who appear to have followed the lead of their natal families, for five of whom it is impossible to say, for one of whom burial appears to have taken place in the lady’s own foundation, and in one case the lady appears to have carved out her own relationship with the abbey in widowhood, before bequeathing her body for burial there.11 [fig. 1] A word of caution must be offered, however, in dealing with the lesser nobility, where a lady and her husband could belong to local county families which gave to the same religious houses and had the same feudal lords. In this case the line between natal and marital family interests is more difficult to draw. Breaking the sample down further, nine of the fourteen women who followed marital precedents were married at the time that arrangements were made for the interment of their bodies and only four were widowed. We do not know for a further one. This compares with five widows and seven wives among the twelve ladies who followed the lead of their natal families in preparing for burial. So far the pattern suggests, perhaps not surprisingly, that a woman who was married at the time preparations were made for her burial was more likely to be buried at a location associated with her marital family than in a place associated with her birth family, while the opposite was true for the widow. On the other hand, the ratio of wives to widows in the same sample (16:9), combined with the fact that a significant number of married women were interred with their natal families ( 716 or approx. 44%) suggests not only that noblewomen were very often married at death (whether to a first or subsequent husband), but – more importantly – that the wife was not automatically compelled, either by a dominant husband or the fact of marriage, to be buried at a location associated with her marital family. She may even have exercised choice. In feudal terms, the birth of a male heir was of primary importance to the survival, intact, of the noble family’s estates, and as such was a pressing preoccupation for married couples during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Therefore, in principal at least, the birth of children, and more particularly of a son and heir, might be expected to have strengthened the noblewoman’s connection to her husband and his family, while in burial terms this might be expected to translate to interment in a location associated with the husband. The small sample of Shropshire cases bears this out. Of the fourteen women (whether married, widowed or unknown) who chose to be buried in a location associated with their marital family, eleven had male heirs (nearly 80%), while a total of thirteen had children of either sex, viz. male, female or unknown offspring (93%), and only one was demonstrably childless. Of the twelve who followed natal precedents, four had male heirs (33%), eight had children of either sex (approx. 67%), and two were childless. We do not know for a further two. Although the pattern does not allow for the role of infant mortality in shaping the evidence – had further children been born but subsequently died, and had these births influenced the parents’ burial arrangements? – it nevertheless suggests that the birth of children coincided with the greater association of the noblewoman with her marital family in burial. The birth of male heirs appears to have been especially important. There were, clearly, many critical and complex factors affecting a medieval noblewoman’s choice of burial location – or the choice of those who made the 11

See the case of Sibyl de Linley below, p. 181.

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Fig. 1. Diagram showing breakdown of evidence for noblewomen’s burials in Shropshire, 1150–1350

decision for her as clearly sometimes occurred – and the interplay or overlap of factors must surely have been more subtle than is allowed by my rather crude analysis. In selecting a final resting place, a noblewoman (or those around her) might have been influenced by social and/or family expectation or pressure, by the love of a spouse, parents or pre-deceased children, by a sense of duty to her family or a religious institution, by links of kinship, friendship, lordship or cultural ambience, by a pre-existing connection to a particular monastery or a special desire for commemoration by an institution or religious order, by a belief in the moral rectitude or an awareness of the popularity of a particular monastic order, or, more materialistically, by a desire to emphasise personal and/or dynastic status.12 Nor did choice of burial location occur in a vacuum; rather, it was inextricably bound up with the religious interests and pious activities of the woman herself and of her two families (natal and marital), and with the dynamic interplay between these interests. What is arguably more useful in understanding the noblewoman’s choice of burial location than the (tentative) patterns arising from a limited data set, is an examination of specific surviving details, and especially of those details which shed 12

See esp. Gee, Women, Art and Patronage, 21, 25, 32; Frances A. Underhill, For her Good Estate: The Life of Elizabeth de Burgh (Basingstoke and London, 1999), chapter 5. See also J.C. Ward, ‘Fashions in Monastic Endowment: The Foundations of the Clare Family, 1066–1314’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 32 (1981), 427–51.

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light on the mechanics of decision-making. Evidence is far more explicit for some women than for others and, as would be expected, the higher up the social scale the woman belongs, the more likely one is to find details to work with. Among the most notable examples from my material is that of Hilary Trussebut, lady of Montgomery, who, as I shall discuss in the second half of this paper, was determined against all odds to be buried with her late husband in the Shropshire Abbey of Lilleshall, possibly ignoring the preference of her natal family for burial in Yorkshire. Also allying herself with her marital family’s burial practices was Isabel, daughter of Roger Mortimer of Wigmore and Maud de Braose, and whose first husband John FitzAlan III (d. 1272), lord of Clun and Oswestry and de facto earl of Arundel, had been the patron of the FitzAlan foundation of Haughmond Abbey. Isabel de Mortimer died shortly before 1 April 1292;13 she was then married to a second husband, but was interred alongside her first husband at the east end of the abbey church, before the high altar.14 This was prime real estate in burial terms and the sizeable house of Augustinian canons, founded in the early twelfth century by William FitzAlan I, was her marital family’s mausoleum. Protected and fostered by the FitzAlans and their principal vassals, the Lestranges, and firmly rooted in the locality, the prosperous abbey remained the chief focus of the FitzAlans’ religious interests, even after their inheritance of the earldom of Arundel, and the site of their burial until the second half of the fourteenth century.15 If, as Janet Burton and others have suggested, the choice of burial location says much about a person’s dynastic loyalties16 – and there is every reason to believe it does! – then the case of Isabel de Mortimer has much to recommend it. Despite a natal family mausoleum at Wigmore, an apparent lack of any eleemosynary interest in Haughmond Abbey during her lifetime, and two successive marriages, she was ultimately laid to rest beside her first husband, the de facto earl of Arundel, at his family’s own monastery (and the anticipated burial-site of future, fully fledged FitzAlan earls). Although Jennifer Ward felt that women who married more than once usually opted for burial with their first husbands, as the wife and progenitrix of earls Isabel de Mortimer had particular reason to seek an open and visible alliance with her husband’s dynasty. That her natal family’s mausoleum at Wigmore appears to have laid greater emphasis on the burial of male family members may have strengthened her resolve.17 Isabel’s daughter-in-law Alice de Saluzzo, the Italian wife of Richard earl of Arundel (d. 1302), was also associated in death with the FitzAlan mausoleum at Haughmond. Alice died on 25 September 1292, only a few months after her mother-in-law, and is said on no good authority to have been buried at a place called

13 14

CFR 1272–1307, 309. R.W. Eyton, The Antiquities of Shropshire, 12 vols (London, 1854–60), vii. 229. Isabel is supposed to have married Robert de Hastings on 2 September 1285 at Poling in Sussex: Eyton, Antiquities, vii. 229; CCR 1279–1288, 451. 15 R.W. Eyton, ‘The Monasteries of Shropshire: Their Origin and Founders. Haughmond Abbey’, The Archaeological Journal 13 (1865), 145–53; VCH, Shropshire, ii. 63–4; CPR 1343–1345, 56. 16 See for example Janet Burton, Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain, 1000–1300 (Cambridge, 1994), 218. 17 No cartulary has survived for Wigmore Abbey, but secondary sources emphasise the burial of Mortimer lords of Wigmore and earls of March without reference to their female kin. A number of these women were in fact probably buried elsewhere. See for example C. Hopkinson and M. Speight, The Mortimers, Lords of the March (Almeley, 2002), 38, 112, 116, 121, 193.

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Todingham Priory.18 The identity of this religious house is unclear, as no reference to a monastery by that name survives today (nor was it known to Dugdale), and it is probably an error. Suffice it to say that the bodies of both Alice and her husband had been interred at Haughmond Abbey by 23 September 1341, at the latest, when arrangements were made for candles to burn around their tombs on specific days of the calendar year.19 There was arguably a greater inevitability to Alice de Saluzzo’s burial in the FitzAlan family mausoleum than had been the case for Isabel de Mortimer, since not only was Alice a long way from her natal family home, but she had predeceased her husband. On the other hand, if Alice had initially been buried elsewhere and her remains only translated to Haughmond Abbey at a later date, then her importance to her marital family, and the recognition of the same by her descendants, becomes emphatic. Like her mother-in-law, Alice was the wife and progenitrix of earls, the mother of daughters through whom new connections could be forged,20 and a critical link in the increasingly sturdy FitzAlan dynastic chain. The translation of her remains would suggest a deliberate desire by members of her marital family to advertise their dynastic success to contemporaries. Against the burial of the FitzAlan wives with their husbands stands the example of Lucy, daughter and co-heiress of Miles earl of Hereford, and wife to the Shropshire baron Herbert FitzHerbert II (d. before June 1204). Lucy, who died a widow around 1220, was interred at the Augustinian priory of Llanthony secunda in Gloucestershire, founded by her father and serving as her natal family’s mausoleum: her father Miles de Gloucester, her mother Sibyl de Neufmarche, and three sisters and two brothers all lay buried in the chapter house of the priory.21 Unlike Haughmond Abbey, which chiefly served the male members of the FitzAlan natal family unit, Llanthony Priory also furnished burial space for the women of Lucy’s natal family. Moreover, Lucy’s was clearly the more illustrious family, while FitzHerbert himself, although descended from barons and royal office holders,22 appears to have been perpetually out of favour with Henry II and never of his wife’s social standing. As a widow Lucy must have had the kind of free choice typically available to the femme sole of English noble society, and, despite the fact that she and her husband had sons, there was probably little likelihood that she would have considered any house other than that which stood guard over the bodies and souls of her natal kin. Indeed, the connection between the earldom of Hereford and the priory of Llanthony secunda, and all it said about lordship, status and power, was such that the Bohuns, who inherited the earldom of Hereford through Lucy’s elder sister Margaret, thereafter adopted the patronal and burial connections of their predecessors. Evidence for the maintenance of family mausolea in English monasteries is greatest at the upper levels of noble society at this time, and it is probable that these families were in a better position to negotiate such rights.23 In many cases, as we have seen, the greater family’s mausoleum was a religious house founded by an

18 The earliest reference to Alice’s burial at ‘Todingham Priory’ appears to be that in Complete Peerage, i. 241, but no evidence is cited. 19 Cart(ulary of) Haughmond (Abbey), ed. Una Rees (Cardiff, 1985), no. 1245. 20 Her daughter Eleanor FitzAlan (d. 1328) married Henry de Percy, Lord Percy (d. 1314). 21 Collectanea Topographica et Genealogica, 2 vols (London, 1824), i. 168–9. Earl Miles’s charters are in Mon. Ang., vi. 136–7. 22 See esp. Eyton, Antiquities, vii. 146–53. 23 Jennifer Ward, Women in Medieval Europe, 1200–1500 (London, 2002), 211, 233; idem, ‘Fashions in Monastic Endowment’, 427–51.

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ancestor. Nevertheless, there is also evidence for similar activities among the members of the lesser nobility of Shropshire, which reveals the importance of dynastic and tenurial considerations to members of lesser noble society, as well as their desire to emulate the eleemosynary and burial practices of the upper levels of the noble society. The Mussons, a local knightly family from Uppington under Mount Gilbert, appear by the beginning of the thirteenth century, if not earlier, to have established a precedent for burial at Wombridge Priory, a modest house of Augustinian canons located some five miles north-east of their caput manor at Uppington. The surviving fifteenth-century cartulary reveals that at least four of the nine daughters and coheiresses of Sir Roger Musson (d. c. 1191), along with two husbands, one granddaughter and a lady who married into the family, all made pre mortem arrangements for burial at Wombridge.24 During the first half of the thirteenth century, Roger Musson’s daughters were engaged in an intense and dynamic relationship with the priory, as the canons determinedly acquired more and more of the Musson patrimony from the women and their husbands, and they in turn sought to benefit from the patronal-style relationship with Wombridge carved out by their father. Roger Musson had stepped into an important tenurial breach in Shropshire in the 1170s, when he was enfeoffed by Henry II in land formerly held by Hamon Peverel: in granting to Wombridge the chapel of Uppington and all of his waste and woodland in the manor of Wichley, Sir Roger assumed his predecessor’s obligations to the house that had been co-founded by Hamon Peverel’s natural daughter, Seburga, using lands she acquired from her father.25 Surviving pre mortem burial arrangements, such as those for the Musson women, are critically important for what they reveal about the motives and methods behind the granting of a noblewoman’s body for burial, and for what they tell us about female input into, or control over, such grants. Unsurprisingly, female control over these matters, as over any land grant or business arrangement, was greatest and most conspicuous when the woman was a widow. At this stage in her lifecycle, the lady administered her own lands, finances and household, and was presumably mature and experienced enough in most cases to have idea of what she wanted and how to get it. For the widow who had not made burial arrangements during marriage, it appears to have been a relatively straightforward process of choosing a location, deciding on a gift to accompany her body and arranging commemoration. Her decisions were typically free of the pressure or influence of a husband or guardian (assuming she was of age), and her priorities perhaps different from when she was married; in the thirteenth century her choice of burial location often fell to a religious house within her own socio-religious ambit Not long before her death in 1242 Maud Lestrange, sister and co-heiress of Ralph Lestrange of Alveley, and widow of Gruffydd ap Iorwerth Goch, lord of Sutton, determined upon burial at Haughmond Abbey, and granted with her body a portion of her maternal inheritance in Warwickshire.26 The abbey at Haughmond, the foundation of her natal family’s overlords, had been the focus of her parents’ eleemosynary interests toward the end of the twelfth century,27 and Maud’s own gift essentially confirmed a grant made by her mother in the 1170s.28 By contrast, Maud’s husband, who died in 1221, had shown little interest in Haughmond Abbey 24 25 26 27 28

For example BL, MS Eg(erton) 3712, fols 8r, 9r, 9v, 20r, 28r, 51r. BL, MS Eg. 3712, fols 29v, 35v. Cart. Haughmond, no. 1177. Ibid., nos 26, 756. Ibid., no. 26.

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during his lifetime and had, like his father and elder brother, actively patronised Wombridge Priory, the religious house in which he was ultimately interred.29 Several other Shropshire widows followed much the same course of action as Maud Lestrange: Sibyl de Linley, Sabina de Preston, and sisters Eleanor and Denise Musson each bequeathed their bodies, together with portions of their own, inherited lands, to houses that were either favoured by members of their natal families, or with which they themselves had forged links during widowhood. Sibyl de Linley’s financial difficulties following the death of her husband, Richard de Ruyton, brought her into close contact with the canons of Lilleshall, with whom she made a series of transactions in the period 1200 to 1213, before finally promising her body to their house, perhaps in fulfilment of a debt or as a gesture of gratitude.30 Although Sibyl remembered her husband’s soul in the pro anima clauses of her charters, the monastery where she was interred had, as far as we can tell, been of little or no interest to Richard or his family.31 Similarly, the husbands of Eleanor and Denise Musson appear to have exhibited no independent interest in Wombridge Priory. On the other hand, as might be expected, several widows for whom pre mortem burial arrangements survive do not follow the same course of action: in the first half of the thirteenth century the heiresses Hilary Trussebut, lady of Montgomery, and Millicent, lady of Eyton, both granted their bodies and parcels of their inherited lands to the institution that housed the remains of their late husbands: Lilleshall Abbey.32 A third, Joan widow of Hugh de Beckbury II, grandson of Sir Roger Musson, granted her body to Wombridge priory, her marital family’s institution of choice. Two key factors stand out in the grants just mentioned: the first is that all but one of the widows concerned was an heiress or co-heiress whose inherited lands funded the body-grant; the second is that all but three of these widows opted for burial at locations that owed little or nothing to the late husbands’ religious interests and apparently plenty to their own or their natal families’ tastes. To this end it is perhaps significant that most of the widows identified themselves in their burial charters according to their natal families (e.g. Matilda Lestrange and Denise daughter of Sir Roger Musson). Already it appears that there was a critical link between a noble widow’s inheritance and her choice of burial location, that her status as heiress went hand-in-hand with loyalty to her natal family, where burial location often reflected the eleemosynary, if not also burial, interests of those from whom she inherited her land. Moreover, it is these ancestors who usually merited consideration in the pro anima clauses of the widows’ burial charters. Widows who chose to forge their own religious links in benefaction and burial probably (at the very least) exercised an independence encouraged by their status as heiress. Moreover, the apparent connection between inheritance and burial location is supported, rather than undermined, by two of the three widows who chose to be buried with their husbands. As I shall presently suggest, the opposition anticipated by Hilary Trussebut to her choice of burial location almost certainly came from her

29 30

BL, MS Eg. 3712, fols 58r, 66r, 66v, 67r, 67v, 68r. The Cartulary of Lilleshall Abbey, ed. Una Rees (Shrewsbury, 1997) [hereafter: Cart. Lill.] nos 39–44; RC, 192. See especially Cart. Lill., no. 40, where the sale is made ‘pro magna et urgente necessitate mea’. 31 Similarly, Lilleshall Abbey had also received the body of the twice-widowed Sabina de Preston, with a parcel of patrimony, around 1250, as she and her three sisters, the co-heiresses of Pagan de Preston, continued the eleemosynary connection established by their ancestors. Cart. Lill., nos 145, 146; S(hropshire) A(rchives), 6000/16287. 32 Cart. Lill., nos 241, 108.

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natal family and/or its associates who expected her to be interred closer to home. Moreover, while Joan widow of Hugh de Beckbury II did not give inherited lands with her body, and was probably not an heiress, a close examination of the charter evidence reveals that the lands she did give to Wombridge priory belonged to the original Musson patrimony. As a widow she had procured a parcel of land in Harrington in central Shropshire from her nephew, to whom the land had descended from his great-grandfather Sir Roger Musson. It was this land that Joan gave with her body to the Musson family’s preferred monastery.33 Moving back in the female lifecycle to married women and their pre mortem arrangements for burial, we encounter still greater complexity in the issue of female body-grants, although again marital status and tenurial circumstance can be seen to have influenced the woman’s choice of burial location, as well – in this case – as the very manner in which her body was granted. Married women’s bodies could clearly be granted in several ways: by herself as sole donor, by her husband as sole donor, or in a single charter in which they appear together as joint-donors. Once again, the evidence suggests that a woman might exercise greater control over the fate of her own body after death if she was an heiress, and that if granting her body with a portion of her own land, she would typically issue a single charter under her own name. In the 1180s Emma, heiress to the barony of Pulverbatch and wife of Herbert de Castello, baron of Castle Holgate, gave her body for burial at Haughmond Abbey, together with all of her manor of Beobridge but a small parcel she had already given to the white nuns of Brewood.34 Her husband, Herbert de Castello, is said to have given his consent to the grant. Herbert then issued his own charter confirming his wife’s grant, whilst making allowance for his own right to the land (presumably by courtesy of England) in the event of his wife’s predeceasing him: his charter stipulates that the land granted by his wife would go to the canons of Haughmond after his death.35 In fact, Herbert died before his wife, and as a widow Emma de Pulverbatch continued her munificence toward Haughmond Abbey.36 Where this house was the focus of Emma’s donations, and those of her father Reginald de Pulverbatch before her, Herbert de Castello’s pious interests do not appear to have been vested in any of the Shropshire monasteries for which charters survive today, despite the generosity of his father, mother and paternal grandfather toward Shrewsbury Abbey.37 Like Emma de Pulverbatch, the ladies Avice de Stoke, Alice de Rodington, Petronilla de Rodington and Isolde (aka Cecily) Musson were all married when they made preparations for burial, and each was an heiress or co-heiress who exercised a degree of independence in granting her body to her chosen monastery. Isolde Musson, one of the nine co-heiresses of Sir Roger Musson, made her first body grant around 1220 whilst married to William Marshal of Daventree (alias ‘of Uppington’). Her remains were to go, together with a small piece of the Musson patrimony, to her natal family’s favourite house: Wombridge Priory.38 Her husband, reportedly according to her wishes, issued a separate charter confirming the grant. In fact, Isolde survived her initial body-grant by nearly twenty years, reappearing as Cecily Musson around 1239 and granting a further parcel of her inheritance together 33 34 35 36 37

BL, MS Eg. 3712, fols 51r, 51v. Cart. Haughmond, nos 149, 151, 152. Ibid., no. 150. Ibid., nos 911, 912. The Carturlary of Shrewsbury Abbey, ed. Una Rees, 2 vols (Aberystwyth, 1975), 33 (no. 35), 41(no. 36), 256, 258, 338, 295. 38 BL, MS Eg. 3712, fol. 9r–v.

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with her body. Her husband followed suit and, identifying himself as ‘William Marshal, husband of Cecily, daughter of Roger Musson’, made exactly the same grant, but with his own body, to Wombridge Priory. Alice de Rodington’s husband, Richard Crurder, also followed his wife’s lead in donating his body for burial at Haughmond Abbey, their respective grants once again funded by the wife’s inheritance and directed toward a house more closely associated with her family than his. Some time after 1230, in widowhood, Alice confirmed her own grant to Haughmond Abbey.39 In Alice de Rodington’s case, the real importance of the wife to the couple’s choice of burial location is partially obscured by the cartulary itself: here Richard Crurder’s donation is defined as the original grant, while Alice’s is labelled ‘alia donacio’, and her confirmation in widowhood ‘tercia donacio’. The text of Alice’s charter also suggests that her grant was made at her Richard’s request.40 Whether or not Alice was the driving force behind the choice of burial location – and quite possibly she was – it was her inherited social, tenurial and religious connections that paved the way for the couple’s interment at Haughmond Abbey. For the Derbyshire heiress, Avice de Stoke, and her first husband, Henry de Bec (d. before 1198), the apparently mutual decision to grant their bodies to Lilleshall Abbey at the end of the twelfth century reveals an awareness of the distance between the wife’s modest territorial interests and the location of Lilleshall Abbey. In two coterminous and near-identical charters husband and wife, appearing in turn as sole donor, confirmed her father’s grant of the Derbyshire manor of Grindlow to Lilleshall and bequeathed their two bodies (together) for burial there.41 Both Avice’s inheritance and Henry’s patrimony lay outside Shropshire, and so the couple prepared for the very real possibility that they might die beyond the county borders: the two charters state that the bodies of Avice and Henry were to be conveyed to Lilleshall ‘wherever we might die in England (ubicumque in Anglia defuncti fuerimus)’.42 Moreover, as Avice’s lands lay chiefly in Derbyshire, and since her natal family were keen benefactors of the Nottinghamshire abbey of Rufford,43 the desire of Avice and Henry for burial at Lilleshall, and the generous bequest of her father, Matthew, to the same house,44 suggests a connection between the de Stoke family and Lilleshall Abbey founded on something other than the more common tenurial or honorial links. As I shall presently discuss, the modest abbey was renowned for its hospitality toward travellers, and if Matthew de Stoke and his daughter Avice had interests in Shropshire, then their connection may have been forged en route between estates. By contrast to the cases just outlined, where the noble wife seems to have exercised some control over her burial, are several examples, apparently associated with non-inheriting women, in which the husband ostensibly ‘called the shots’. The bodies of Amice la Fusche, wife of John Lestrange II (d. 1233/4), lord of the frontier 39 40 41

Cart. Haughmond, nos 310–12. See also no. 1192. Eyton, Antiquities, viii. 262–3. Cart. Lill., no. 65; S(taffordshire) R(ecord) O(ffice), D593/A/1/2/10, D593/A/1/2/7. See Cart. Lill., no. 61 for the original grant by Avice’s father Matthew, son of Waltheof de Stoke (Derbs.). 42 When Avice remarried around 1198 her second husband confirmed the Grindlow charters: Cart. Lill., App. A.III. 43 Rufford Charters, ed. C.J. Holdsworth, 4 vols (Nottingham, 1972), i. nos 109–12, 114–21, 128; ii. no. 695. 44 Cart. Lill., nos 6 (also in RC, i. 17; TNA, Cartae Antiquae Roll, C52/29, no. 16; BL, MS Harl. 3868, fols 21v–22), 61 (also in SRO, D593/A/1/2/1–2), 260 (also in TNA, Cartae Antiquae Roll, C53/55; CChR ii. 59).

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barony of Knockin, of Petronilla wife of Guy de Hadnall (d. c. 1245–49), of Emma de Say, wife of Robert FitzAer II (d. c. 1198), lord of Aston Eyre and tenant of the FitzAlans, and of several other married ladies, were each donated for burial by their husbands with little or no reference to the women’s own interests. Indeed, the very scarcity of non-heiresses among the widows discussed above not only seems to underscore the relative autonomy of the heiress in choosing a burial location, but also to reflect the greater likelihood that an ordinary daughter’s burial would have been arranged during marriage by her husband. Thus, between 1190 and 1195, Robert FitzAer acknowledged his gift of all of his land in Newton in Ellesmere, together with his own body and that of his wife Emma, to his overlords’ foundation at Haughmond.45 The land given in this case belonged to Robert’s patrimony and the grant appears to have been intended, at least in part, to rectify the Haughmond canons’ neglect of the chapel at another of Robert’s own manors, that of Great Wytheford in northern Shropshire. In return for the donation the canons had to ensure that divine service was performed in the chapel, on three days a week, whenever Robert, Emma, or their heirs were resident at the manor. The gift of their bodies probably strengthened the agreement.46 Most notably, the case of Amice la Fusche seems to point to the husband’s using his wife’s body as a commodity with which to benefit one of several monasteries on his own religious radar. In the early thirteenth century, John Lestrange gave the chapel of his own Leicestershire manor of Shangton, along with his wife’s body in death, to the abbey of Lilleshall for his soul and those of his wife and their ancestors.47 The Lestranges were generous benefactors of the Abbeys of Lilleshall, Haughmond and Shrewsbury and the priory of Wombridge, and although John and Amice had a thriving son and heir who went on to inherit the barony of Knockin, John Lestrange does not appear to have been buried with his wife at Lilleshall. Instead, I would suggest (admittedly without evidence) that he was interred at Haughmond Abbey, the honorial monastery of his suzerain. It was to the FitzAlans that the Lestrange family owed much of their power and influence in Shropshire, and the bonds of lordship and prestige probably encouraged the Lestrange men to be buried at Haughmond whilst seeking other means to endow houses like Lilleshall. In the context of religious benefaction, the non-inheriting status of wives like Amice la Fusche may well have compensated (in part) for their more limited territorial value. The importance of the husband to the non-inheriting wife’s burial arrangements toward the end of the thirteenth century is further highlighted by the will of Emma Corbet of Caus (d. 1284), which survives in abridged form among the papers of Dugdale. In this, Emma Corbet, who was the wife of Brian de Brompton III and a daughter of the late, formidable Thomas Corbet of Caus (d. 1274), specifically states that her body ought to be buried ‘wherever my lord [Brian] and my brother, Sir Peter Corbet, should wish’.48 She left her husband and her brother-in-law, Sir Walter de Brompton, to dispose of her moveable goods. Sadly, we have no record of where Emma Corbet was laid to rest,49 but her husband went on to marry again and, on his

45 46

Cart. Haughmond, no. 805. Eyton, Antiquities, ix. 326. For Guy de Hadnall’s grant, made between 1220 and 1230, and his wife’s confirmation of the same as a widow, see Cart. Haughmond, nos 371, 373. 47 Cart. Lill., nos 52, 53; SA 6000/16279, 6000/16280. 48 Bodleian, MS Dugdale 39, fol. 80v. 49 The Corbets of Caus were generous benefactors of Shrewsbury Abbey, while a deathbed charter issued by Emma’s father Thomas suggests that he died within the walls of the abbey and may therefore have been buried there: Cart. Shrews., no. 289.

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own death, was buried near the tomb of his mother, Alice, at Wigmore.50 Most of the Shropshire burials, both male and female, for which explicit evidence survives fell to established Augustinian houses. By 1270, Haughmond Abbey alone had been promised the bodies of at least twenty-three benefactors, a small number of whom were probably burgesses,51 and eleven of whom were female. Setting aside the role of chance (and limited) survival in dictating patterns in the evidence, it is also clear that the socio-religious landscape of thirteenth-century Shropshire must have determined, at least partly, the choices of burial location by men and women of the region. In burial terms at least, this Augustinian-heavy landscape was ‘crisscrossed’ in the thirteenth century by ties between the leading families of the region and their vassals and the houses they had founded, a situation which pushed houses like Haughmond Abbey to the fore. Shrewsbury Abbey, by contrast, having lost the protection of its founders back in 1102, appears to have been less attractive as a burial location to members of the nobility during the thirteenth century and to have held almost no appeal at all to noblewomen. The chief appeal of Haughmond Abbey was clearly its status as the FitzAlan honorial monastery par excellence, and its consequent great prestige in the locality, especially during the reign of Henry II. Burial at Haughmond Abbey, which guarded the remains of several generations of FitzAlan lords and their offspring, was a much sought after honour, even by members of the lesser free tenantry willing to proffer suitable donations.52 Even at the lowest levels of Shropshire’s free tenantry, burial at Haughmond Abbey made an important statement about a person’s social and tenurial ambitions, their pretensions to upward social mobility, and/or their (desired) membership of the great FitzAlan network dominating Shropshire and local border society during the thirteenth century. Whether or not noblewomen were motivated by these ‘historiographically’ male concerns to quite the same extent, allegedly female-compatible notions of kinship and family could not easily be disentangled from the honorial and tenurial affinities that were critical both to the male sector of Shropshire society and, of course, to Haughmond Abbey’s own estate-building.53 On the other hand, the ratio of female to male burials is far higher at Lilleshall Abbey, where, although the total number of female pre mortem body grants uncovered was less (fourteen), there is one female for every male burial request. During a period of consolidation and expansion from the mid-twelfth to the mid-thirteenth century, Lilleshall received gifts from a large number of lay donors of middling rank, many seeking burial within its walls.54 Privileged by royal patronage, Lilleshall Abbey arguably also offered a drawcard that chimed in with a peculiarly gendered form of pious donation, namely, gifts of a domestic nature by noblewomen of the region.55 The small and intimate community of Augustinian canons settled on the Shropshire-Staffordshire border offered affordable, hostel-style accommodation to travellers seeking shelter in a deserted stretch of countryside; physical evidence suggests that some quite salubrious lodgings were earmarked for use by wealthier travellers.56 Financially stretched by the steady stream of guests in the thirteenth

50 51 52 53 54 55 56

Bodleian, MS Dugdale 39, fol. 80r. See for example, Cart. Haughmond, no. 968, relating to Agnes daughter of Peter son of Ordwin. Cart. Haughmond, 13. See esp. Cart. Haughmond, 8. VCH, Shropshire, ii. 72. The evidence for gender-specific forms of benefaction is discussed in my current D.Phil. research. Cart. Lill., xvii.

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century,57 the popular abbey welcomed, and received, contributions toward its victuals, while Hilary Trussebut’s desire to improve the canons’ diet and clothing is suggestive of first-hand contact with abbey life. During marriage and widowhood Hilary maintained simultaneous interests in her family lands in Yorkshire and her late husband’s lordship on the Welsh frontier, and the route between the two counties almost certainly brought her to the doors of the hospitable abbey. Lilleshall Abbey presumably also played host to other men and women whose territorial holdings and family connections led them between Shropshire and the midland or northern counties of England, and among those noble travellers may have been individuals whose familiarity with Lilleshall hospitality encouraged them to bequeath their bodies for burial there. Indeed, the abbey lay in a direct line from central Shropshire to the Derbyshire lands of Avice de Stoke and her natal family, and may have provided accommodation for Avice, her husbands and her father, Matthew de Stoke, each of whom gave to Lilleshall in spite of its lack of any obvious connection with their principal interests in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. Concern for the safety of their souls and increased awareness of the concept of Purgatory apparently also compelled women such as Hilary Trussebut and Joan, widow of Hugh de Beckbury II, to follow the contemporary taste for customised observances and the tailoring of ‘penitential good works to posthumous commemoration’:58 Joan de Beckbury requested that her name be entered in the martyrology of Wombridge Priory, that special prayers be said for her soul, and that her anniversary be observed; Hilary Trussebut effectively established a chantry for her own soul and those of her family members and late husband (although she later changed her mind) and obits for herself and her husband. She may also have enjoyed some form of confraternity with the Lilleshall canons. As the thirteenth century gave way to the fourteenth, the tastes of noble men and women in burial and commemoration began to change. The mendicant orders were increasingly preferred as guardians of spiritual safety, and by the mid-fourteenth century a shift toward the parish church as a burial location was apparent all over England. Around 1306 Eleanor de Blancminster, wife first of Robert Lestrange of Blakemere and then of sheriff Bevis de Knoville, is said to have been interred in the church of High Ercall in central Shropshire: her tomb, adorned with heraldry, was still in evidence in 1860.59 In 1322 Joan FitzAlan, daughter of John FitzAlan III and Isabel de Mortimer, and widow of Richard de Cornwall (d. 1300), opted for burial at the parish church of St Nicholas of Asthall in Oxfordshire. Under Joan’s direction, the north transept of the church was refashioned as a chantry chapel, distinct from the rest of the church and wholly devoted to the salvation and commemoration of Joan’s marital family. Here she installed a grand, canopied tomb for herself, and a stained glass window, proclaiming her marital family’s status and lineage and consistent with the very latest in artistic fashions.60 Meanwhile Hawise princess of Powys, and wife of John lord Cherleton, was laid to rest around 1350 with the Greyfriars of Shrewsbury, to whom she and her husband had been generous benefactors and with whom her father and grandfather appear to have been buried.61 57 58

Ibid., xvii. Andrew Brown, Church and Society in England, 1000–1500 (Basingstoke and New York, 2003), 123; R.W. Southern, Western Society and the Church in the Middle Ages (Harmondsworth, 1970), 225–8. 59 Hamon Le Strange, Le Strange Records: a Chronicle of the Early Le Stranges of Norfolk and the March of Wales, 1100–1300 (London, 1916), 171; Eyton, Antiquities, x. 24. 60 Gee, Women, Art and Patronage, 153; VCH, Oxfordshire, ii. 154; CPR 1317–1321, 495; Katharine Mair, ‘The Cornwall Chapel of St. Nicholas Church, Asthall’, Oxonensia 62 (1997), 241–2. 61 Gee, Women, Art and Patronage, 153, following Complete Peerage, iii. 160–1, states that Hawise and

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II Such was the state of affairs by the middle of the fourteenth century. But long before then, around the year 1210, Hilary Trussebut, lady of Montgomery, issued a charter declaring her wish to be buried in Lilleshall Abbey.62 So determined was Hilary that she, like her late husband Robert de Boulers (d. 1203), should be laid to rest at this location that she framed her decision in the following, meticulous terms: I have set out a charter to be presented in [Lilleshall Abbey], by my brothers serving God there, against those who in prejudice of my free will should wish to resist my burial arrangement when I die. Indeed, I have kept the charter among my possessions, so that if needs must, and a public lawsuit is launched, it will answer the litigants’ inquiry.63 Who, we ask, was Hilary worried about? Who did she think might try to prevent her burial at Lilleshall, and why? What exactly is going on here? Clues to Hilary Trussebut’s predicament must lie in her own family background and the circumstances of her marriage. Born around 1150 and raised in twelfthcentury Yorkshire, Hilary was the second of three surviving daughters of the baronial house of Trussebut of Warter in Yorkshire’s East Riding. On the death of Robert Trussebut in 1193 the family’s patrimonial estates, valued at a handsome £186 12s, was divided among his three sisters, Rose, Hilary and Agatha.64 Hilary’s share of the Trussebut patrimony included the manors of Melton (Ross) in Lincolnshire, and Copgrove, Copmanthorpe (Water) Fulford, Stillingford and (West) Cottingwith in Yorkshire, together with lands in Warter and the city of York, and a third of the woodland throughout.65 Hilary also inherited land in Northamptonshire, Cambridgeshire and Kent from her mother, Aubrey de Harcourt, the niece and co-heiress of William Peverel II of High Ercall, Dover and Bourn.66 Some time before she became an heiress, Hilary had married Robert de Boulers, hereditary lord of Montgomery, and a man of middling importance whose modest border territory centred on the strategic motte-and-bailey castle of Hen Domen and encompassed some 50½ hides of land. His grandfather, Baldwin de Boulers I, installed on the western fringe of Shropshire by Henry I, had been among a clutch of lords who stepped into the breach left by the fall of the powerful earl of Shrewsbury in 1102. Although Robert de Boulers evidently already had territories beyond Shropshire’s boundaries at the time of his marriage to Hilary Trussebut,67 the county and border lordship remained the focus of his power and eleemosynary interests.68 Whether the marriage between Robert and Hilary was the first for either of them, and John founded the community. There is little evidence of this. Hawise’s interest in the Franciscans was shared by her contemporaries Marie de St Pol, countess of Pembroke, and Elizabeth de Burgh: Ward, Women in Medieval Europe, 211–12; Gee, Women, Art and Patronage, 19; Frances A. Underhill, For her Good Estate: The Life of Elizabeth de Burgh (Basingstoke and London, 1999), esp. chapter 5. 62 Cart. Lill., no. 241; SA, 6000/18626; E(arly) Y(orkshire) C(harters), vols I–III, ed. W. Farrer (Edinburgh, 1914–16), vols IV–XII, ed. C.T. Clay, Yorkshire Archaeological Society, Record Series, extra series (1935–65), X, no. 21. 63 My paraphrase. 64 CRR xvi. 12. 65 CRR xvi. 12; Fees, 157, 191. 66 Eyton, Antiquities, ix. 122; The Red Book of the Exchequer, ed. Hubert Hall (RS, 1896), 529. 67 CRR ix. 374, xvi. 313. 68 BL, MS Add. Ch. 20220; Transactions of the Shropshire Archaeological and Natural History Society (TSAS), 3rd ser., VIII, 60–62; Cart. Lill., nos 55, 91.

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whether they had ever had any children, is unclear; Robert de Boulers certainly had a son of witnessing age around the time he founded a community of Augustinian canons at Snead in the 1180s,69 but his union with Hilary was ultimately childless when he died in 1203. Immediately upon her husband’s death, Hilary Trussebut fined with King John for control over her own marriage, and remained single for the rest of her long life.70 She died in the spring of 1241 aged around ninety.71 The religious interests of Hilary’s natal family were conspicuous and extraordinarily diverse. Surviving evidence shows that she herself, her father, three brothers and sister Agatha gave variously to the local Augustinian priory of Warter, to Fountains Abbey, Sinningthwaite Priory, Meaux Abbey (all in Yorkshire), as well as to the Lincolnshire houses of Sixle, Grimsby, Thornton and Newhouse, to the Norman Abbey of Seint-Georges-de-Boscherville, to the Templars and Hospitallers in England, and finally (as far as Hilary herself was concerned) to Lilleshall Abbey in Shropshire.72 Hilary’s mother, Aubrey de Harcourt (d. 1205), had also been a benefactor of the priories of Nuneaton in Warwickshire and Skewkirk in Yorkshire’s West Riding.73 Together, Hilary and her immediate family managed to patronise fourteen separate communities of seven different religious orders in two countries, among which were a nunnery and two double houses. In addition, Hilary’s brother Robert served Richard I on crusade, while another brother, William, was instituted to the church of Neuville-sur-Authou in Normandy and appears to have been a prebendary in the church of Lincoln in 1186.74 The most interesting documents relating to Hilary herself are her generous charters to Lilleshall Abbey near the Shropshire-Staffordshire border, each of which reveals close supervision of her gifts and the uses to which they were put, and suggests a keen interest both in the welfare of the abbey and its canons and in the spiritual benefits they could offer her and her family. In the earliest of the deeds, probably issued within five or so years of her husband’s death in 1203, Hilary conveyed the whole of her Yorkshire estate of Arkendale to the abbey, together with the right to build a mill there, and access to certain woodlands.75 Hilary’s gift was made for the health of her own soul and those of her parents, late husband, and heirs, and its purpose was the maintenance of the canons’ kitchen at Lilleshall and the improvement the food in the refectory. It was further stipulated that there should be no withdrawal of the food customarily set before the brethren (‘sine cibi consuete appositionis substraxtione’). Around the same time Hilary issued another charter to Lilleshall relating to her estate at Arkendale, which further reiterates that the grant was for the increase of the canons’ diet.76 King John confirmed the latter charter in 1213.77 69

One of the two earliest surviving charters to the canons at Snead (subsequently, Chirbury Priory) records the grant by Robert de Boulers of the mills of Churchstoke and Walcot. Among the witnesses were his younger brothers Baldwin and Walter, and his son Roger. BL, MS Add. Ch. 20220; TSAS, 3rd ser., VIII, 60–62. 70 PR, 5 John, p. 104. Hilary proffered 300 marks and 2 palfreys for the rights to her marriage, and agreed to remarry only with the consent of the king and her friends. 71 Eyton, Antiquities, ix. 126. 72 EYC, x. nos 9, 15, 16, 18, 25, 26, 28, 31, 32, 41, 42, 76, 90; Feet of Fines for the County of York, ed. W.P. Baildon and others, Yorkshire Archaeological Society Record Series 42, 52, 62, 67, 82, 121, 127, 158 (1910–2000), no. 62, 38. 73 EYC, X, nos 6, 7, 8. 74 EYC, X, 11; John le Neve, Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae 1066–1300, III, ed Diana E. Greenway (London, 1977), 94, 162. 75 Cart. Lill., no. 29; Mon. Ang., vi. 263–4; EYC, x. no. 19. Mon. Ang. includes a witness, ‘Roberto Walensi tunc vicecomite Ebor’ ’, who is not mentioned in the cartulary version. 76 Cart. Lill., Appendix A.III; Bodleian, MS Dodsworth 110, fol. 48. 77 Rot. Cart., I, 192

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Hilary’s next charter, issued around 1210, was that relating to her wish to be buried with her husband in Lilleshall and paraphrased above.78 This charter also raises the possibility that Hilary enjoyed some form of fraternity with the religious community at Lilleshall, as denoted by the rather vague reference to ‘my brothers serving God there (fratribus meis ibidem deo servientibus)’. Another deed recites how Hilary had promised her body to Lilleshall, donates her third of Braunston, formerly her mother’s maritagium, and requests that the revenues of the land be directed toward the maintenance of one canon who, after her death, would celebrate daily mass for Hilary and her husband in the abbey church.79 Concerning the latter stipulation Hilary appears to have had a change of heart, for one final charter relating to Lilleshall, issued some time between 1216 and her death in 1241, decrees that the same Braunston revenues, formerly intended to support one canon, should be divided into three parts: two were to be applied to clothing of the convent and the third to the lights of the abbey church.80 Perhaps the canons of Lilleshall, mindful of their own pressing domestic needs, had persuaded Hilary to redirect her gift on the grounds that a more general donation would ensure remembrance by the whole community, rather than by just one canon. In addition to her munificent gifts to Lilleshall, Hilary Trussebut also maintained pious interests closer to her natal family’s territory. She gave to Warter Priory, to the Hospitallers, and to the Templars, whose ranks her nephew Robert de Ros had joined shortly before his death in c. 1227.81 She funded the repair of a burned church near her manor of Deighton, presented one John Trussebut, presumably a relative, to the church of St Martin at Micklegate in York, confirmed the gifts of tenants, and fought tirelessly, during both marriage and widowhood, for her entitlement to the advowson of the Lincolnshire church of Melton.82 The advowson of the church of Wickham in Sussex may also have been her right.83 In each of her grants and confirmations, Hilary sought to fulfil her responsibility, not only to her own soul, but also to the souls of her late husband, her natal family members and, on one occasion, to the souls of all faithful departed. That every one of her pious donations was made during widowhood underscores the English noble widow’s relative economic and social freedom, and suggests too that Hilary herself had a firm sense of her own, piety. Hilary’s choice of Lilleshall Abbey as her final resting place, and as the main focus of her eleemosynary interests, clearly owed much to her relationship with her husband: as far as benefaction and burial were concerned, her ‘socio-personal’ identity was firmly allied with the late lord of Montgomery, despite the diverse and conspicuous religious interests of her natal family and despite her care not to neglect those interests entirely. This fact is arguably made more remarkable by the evidence that the noble couple had no surviving children, which in principal might have been expected to strengthen Hilary’s ties to her marital unit. Throughout her long widowhood, Hilary maintained a keen and predominant interest in Lilleshall abbey, and a desire that this house, more than any other, should remember her and her husband in death. To the promise of her body, she added a pittance for the canons, which for years to come would serve to remind the canons of her munificence every time they

78 79 80 81 82

Cart. Lill., no. 241; SA 6000/18626; EYC, x. no. 21. Cart. Lill., no. 31. See also the confirmation charter of Henry III, ibid., no. 260. Ibid., no. 240; EYC, x. no. 22. EYC, x. nos 14, 15, 18; RH, i. p. 116; Yorkshire Fines, 1218–31, 38. CRR vi. 337; The Register, or Rolls, of Walter Gray, ed. James Raine, Surtees Society 56 (1872), 38; EYC, X, no. 17; CRR i. 278, 282, 290, 410, 442. 83 CRR x. 242–3.

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sat down to eat. The same might be said of her gifts of clothing and lighting. Although she appears ultimately to have withdrawn her request for a single canon devoted to her own memory, Hilary was still being commemorated at Lilleshall Abbey in 1331, in which year Sir John de Brumpton of Longford and his wife Isabel requested remembrance in the daily mass sung there for the soul of Lady Hilary Trussebut.84 Notions of sentiment as a motive for choice are slippery and ultimately unsustainable given the nature of the evidence; yet Hilary’s determined wish to be buried alongside her husband, her long-term interest in the institution where her husband’s body lay, and her disinclination to remarry may speak of an emotional bond between the lord and lady of Montgomery. More cynically perhaps, Hilary had reasonably lucrative dower interests in her late husband’s lordship, including wardship of the under-age lord of Harley, which may have channelled her business interests toward Shropshire and brought her into direct contact with the canons of Lilleshall as she travelled between her estates. In addition, Hilary’s sisters and their offspring stood to gain a great deal by her continued childlessness, and they may have encouraged her attachment to the late Robert de Boulers. Indeed, her nephew, Robert de Ros, was the first of three pledges for her marriage fine, and her brother-in-law, William d’Aubeney, was the third.85 It is clear, nevertheless, that in choosing to be buried with her late husband at Lilleshall Abbey, Hilary Trussebut was exercising choice and defining herself in a self-motivated and proactive way, and that this choice made a deliberate (and seemingly antagonistic) statement about her identity and lineage. Her self-determination was doubtless born both of her status as widow and heiress, and of her own personality. That she never retired to a religious house speaks of firm involvement, whether by choice or default, in the secular world: although Shropshire was poorly served by nunneries and the female house at Sinningthwaite in Yorkshire was scarcely prestigious, Hilary may deliberately have eschewed the cloistered life of a nun. Her desire to control her own marriage immediately after Robert de Boulers’ death, and her subsequent disinclination to re-marry, further suggests a woman who knew her mind and desired to govern her own actions. As for who Hilary believed might object to her burial at Lilleshall Abbey, the most likely candidates must be the members and/or the associates of her natal family, who cannot but have felt threatened by the realignment of her eleemosynary loyalties and by her obvious preference for her marital identity, an identity which moreover had no dynastic future. In chipping away at her inherited lands, and hence at the anticipated inheritances of her collateral kin, she may have irked her family, while her favouritism of a house far away from her natal family’s home might have frustrated the hopes of more traditional recipients of Trussebut generosity who were missing out on the gifts and body of a benefactor. For the Trussebuts themselves the most likely institution of choice for burial was probably Water Priory, although we have very little evidence of Trussbut family burials. The Augustinian priory of Warter had been founded in 1132 by Geoffrey FitzPain, a minor officer of the royal court and great landholder in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, into whose family William Trussebut I, Hilary’s grandfather, appears to have married. Orderic Vitalis gives the names of several men of ignoble birth raised from the dust by Henry I, and among them was Hilary’s grandfather

84 85

SRO, D938/723. PR, 5 John, 104.

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William.86 Warter Priory was arguably therefore not only geographically linked to the eponymous caput of the Trussebut barony and the subjects of a privileged relationship with the barons of Warter, but was also an important symbol and beneficiary of the Trussbut family’s social elevation. It may also have represented a vague link with the royal court. Here, then, must surely be an example of the tension that could exist between the interests of a noblewoman’s two families, marital and natal, and of the friction that might be generated when she exercised choice (in burial location, at least). Yet, Hilary’s situation appears to stand in contrast to that of her younger sister Agatha de Memfelin (née Trussebut). Dying in 1247, Agatha bequeathed her heart to Warter Priory and – presumably – her body elsewhere, thereby successfully negotiating the tensions between her marital and natal families in a way that Hilary did not.87

III Assumptions about gender roles and ‘the shadow of male domination’88 over women have too often dictated medieval historians’ understanding of historical topics, not least that of female burial, neither closely studied nor properly understood. Although much more can, and clearly should, be said about noblewomen’s burial in thirteenth-century Shropshire, and in England generally, certain key patterns emerge from this paper that may have serious consequences for our understanding not only of the topic under discussion but of the place of women in English noble society during the high Middle Ages. The relative freedom of the thirteenth-century widow to choose her own burial location (within the limits of her socio-familial experiences) is largely unremarkable, and the cases of high-born widows like Isabel de Mortimer, Hilary Trussebut and Lucy, wife of Herbert FitzHerbert, suggest that factors influencing the woman’s choice might range from family prestige or promotion of lineage, to the birth of an heir, interest in a particular monastery, or even love of a deceased husband; although the case-study Hilary Trussebut also reveals the potentially destabilising effects of a determined personality and the widow’s exercise of choice in matters of benefaction and burial. On the other hand, the surviving fragments of evidence for female burial arrangements in Shropshire are sufficiently illuminating to suggest that married women of the regions were in an altogether more interesting position, and that the level of control of the wife over her own burial location, and perhaps even the general balance of power between husband and wife, depended in large measure upon whether or not the woman had brought an inheritance to the marriage. The positive practical effect of inheritance on the relative power of the wife is certainly a notion encouraged by Margaret Howell.89 The wife who had inherited was, it seems, able to select her own burial location, to use portions of her inheritance to accompany the bequest of her body (the two typically came together), and to issue a charter under her own name, even when her husband was evidently alive and well and standing witness to the transaction. She sometimes influenced her husband in his choice. The 86 87 88

OV, vi. 17. EYC, x. no. 76. Margaret Howell, ‘Royal Women of England and France in the Mid-Thirteenth Century: A Gendered Perspective’, in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III (1216–1272), ed. Björn K.U. Weiler (Aldershot, 2002), 163–81, esp. 172. 89 Howell, ‘Royal Women of England and France’, 172–3.

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same cannot be said for non-inheriting women who, like Amice wife of John Lestrange II of Knockin, might find their bodies functioning as a commodity with which the husband could purchase salvation or pay off spiritual debts. The relative dearth of non-inheriting women among the widows in my sample further suggests that the non-heiress did not usually survive marriage with the question of her burial still unresolved. Human experience varies greatly and real-life issues are never cut-and-dry. Nor do we know how far the married heiress’s relative freedom to choose a burial location in the long thirteenth century was exercised at the husband’s discretion: the distribution of sons between wives who chose burial with their marital families and those opting for burial with their natal families may point to the expectation that the mother of an heir would be interred with her marital family. Yet the patterns outlined above offer very real evidence that a noblewoman’s freedom to exercise pious benefaction and to dispose of her mortal remains as she saw fit depended in large measure upon her access to land. An awareness of this fact opens up many possibilities for the historian of the thirteenth-century English noblewoman.

Dynastic Conflict in Thirteenth-Century Laxton

David Crook The village of Laxton, formerly Lexington or Lessington, in east central Nottinghamshire owes most of its modern fame to the survival within it of a modified version of the system of open field agriculture, made famous by the great study of that system published in 1938 by the Orwins.1 There is, however, far more to the medieval history of Laxton than its open fields, as I hope to show by considering the contrasting nature and fortunes of the two most important families who lived in the village in the first half of the thirteenth century, and who came into legal conflict with each other at the century’s mid-point. Their lives and the causes of their dispute serve to illustrate some important developments in English political, legal and social life which were then taking place, and provide an interesting story in themselves.2 On 17 December 1249 John, son of the parson of Everingham, and Robert Scathlock are alleged to have broken into Robert of Lexington’s park of Hartshorn at Laxton by force of arms and against the king’s peace, with hatchets, Danish axes, bows and arrows, and chased out the beasts that were enclosed within it, on the orders of John of Everingham. A little earlier, on 30 November 1249, John son of the parson, Robert Feyteben and Ingram de Fanecurt had apparently seized Robert of Bilsthorpe, Robert of Lexington’s man, in the vill of Laxton, and assaulted, mistreated and imprisoned him from daybreak until the third hour of the day, on the orders of Isabella of Everingham and her (younger) son John. Lexington brought writs of trespass against these men for the alleged wrongs, and against the Everinghams for ordering the detention and maltreatment of Bilsthorpe. It was probably also in connection with these incidents that he obtained, on 20 January 1250 at Westminster, a royal charter of free warren for his demesne lands in Laxton, Hartshorn, Moorhouse and Easthead (‘Estheved’).3 The resulting case began in the king’s court known as the Bench (later the Court Dynastic Conflict in Laxton

1 C.S. and C.S. Orwin, The Open Fields (Oxford, 1938). For the later history of Laxton, see J.V. Beckett, A History of Laxton: England’s Last Open-Field Village (Oxford, 1989). 2 The place will here be referred to as ‘Laxton’, the modern name, and people taking their names from it as ‘of Lexington’, the usual form of the place-name until the seventeenth century. It is however worth noting that the form ‘Laxton’ was used in four Common Pleas writs in the same file, for the Quindene of Michaelmas 1347: TNA, CP 52/3/21/4/2/2. Two other examples are in CP 52/3/22/3/2/2 (Quindene of Trinity 1348). That form was also used in a final concord as early as 1316: CP 25/1/184/22, no. 122. All unpublished documents cited here are in TNA unless otherwise stated. 3 Placita de Quo Warranto, ed. W. Illingworth (London, Rec. Comm., 1818), 623, a reference to the charter from a quo warranto roll of the Nottinghamshire eyre of 1329–30. The charter roll for the year (C 53/42) is very badly damaged (see CChR, i. 346–8), and this entry does not appear in what little remains. There is no evidence in the fine roll for that year (C 60/47) that Lexington paid a fine for the issue of the charter. ‘Easthead’ is the area in the far eastern corner of Laxton parish, east of Moorhouse and reaching as far as the parish boundary, just west of the modern line of the A1. Its location is indicated by three plot names in the 1635 Laxton terrier, published in full by the Orwins: Open Fields, 286 (plots 3179, 3180), 290 (plot 3295), and map V.

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Map. Plan of Laxton, 1232

of Common Pleas) at Westminster during that Hilary term, about 1 February 1250, when the defendants did not appear and were attached to re-appear in the court at the Quindene of Easter, about 11 April.4 They did eventually appear at Easter Five Weeks, about 2 May, and denied Lexington’s claims, putting themselves on a jury whose verdict was to be given at the Quindene of St John the Baptist, about 4 July, in Trinity term.5 However, at that date it was recorded that the suit was to ‘go without day’ (i.e. was permanently adjourned) because Robert of Lexington had died.6 At the time that he initiated the case, Lexington, a retired justice, must have been confident of success, for it was to be heard before his former colleagues, although it would have been the views of the local jurors which would have been decisive if the case had come to a conclusion. During the term in which he had retired from the position of chief justice of the Bench in 1244, his fellow justices had included Roger of Thirkleby, Gilbert of Preston and John of Cobham. During Hilary term 1250, when his writs against the Everinghams and their officials brought the first hearing in the court, all three of those men were still sitting there. In Easter and Trinity terms, when the main hearing and the final sine die were enrolled, Thirkleby and Cobham were still Bench justices, while Preston had departed to hold an eyre in Lincolnshire.7 Thirkleby and Preston were the leading Bench and eyre justices throughout the decade and a half after Lexington’s retirement, and were the main 4 5 6 7

KB 26/137, rot. 10; printed in CRR, XIX, no. 1530. KB 26/139, rot. 18d; printed in CRR, XIX, no. 2272. KB 26/141, rot. 25d; printed in CRR, XX, no. 775. D. Crook, Records of the General Eyre, 1194–1348, Public Record Office Handbooks 20 (London, 1982), 115. Preston returned to the Bench in Trinity term 1253.

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recipients of royal assize commissions in the years after Robert and his former frequent colleague William of York ceased to receive them on retirement. They had been close and trusted colleagues of the dying justice. Robert of Lexington was an important man, and his death, which actually occurred on 29 May 1250, was significant enough to be recorded by the St Albans chronicler Matthew Paris: Obiit Robertus de Lexintona Eodemque anno, quarto kalendas Junii, obiit Robertus de Lexintona clericus, qui in justiciariae officio diu commoratus nomen famosum et amplissimas sibi possessiones adquisierat. Veruntamen paucis ante mortem suam annis cessit officio memorato, paralisi sauciatus, ut beato Matheo Apostolo assimulatus de theloneo ad vitam vocaretur meliorem, unde in elemosinis largis et devotis orationibus vitam languidam laudabiliter terminavit.8 Paris picked out the most salient facts about Lexington’s life: that he was a cleric; that he had long fame in judicial office; and that he had acquired ample possessions. He was apparently unaware that, according to the annals of Dunstable, Lexington was one of two men elected bishop of Lichfield in 1239, but resigned before confirmation.9 Paris did however know that he had retired as a justice a few years before his death because he had been stricken with paralysis, and that in his last years he had devoted much of his time to preparing for his death and the salvation of his soul. It seems very likely that his retirement from his position as senior justice of the Bench was caused by a stroke, because he left the court suddenly in the middle of Michaelmas term 1244, between about 12 and 17 November, when he was immediately replaced as a justice by his long-serving clerk, Robert of Nottingham.10 After retirement he founded a chantry in Southwell Minster, where he had been a canon since 1214, and made gifts to his favoured religious houses. In 1246 he decided to be buried at the Augustinian priory of Newstead in Sherwood Forest, before changing his mind in 1249 in favour of the Cistercian house of Rufford, on the edge of the forest not far from Laxton.11 This was in the same year that his brother Sir John de Lexington made an important benefaction to the Cistercians of Clairvaux, which ultimately benefited Rufford. On 18 July 1249, by letters patent given at his manor of Easton, he granted his half of the church of Rotherham, which he had received in 1242 from William de Vescy, to Clairvaux, to support a house of studies for thirteen Cistercians in Paris to enable them to study theology there.12 8 9 10

CM, v. 138. Ann. Mon., ii. 149. C.A.F. Meekings, ‘Robert of Nottingham, Justice of the Bench, 1244–6’, BIHR xli (1968), 133; reprinted in his Studies in Thirteenth Century Justice and Administration, ed. R.F. Hunnisett and D. Crook (London, 1981). 11 Rufford Charters, I, ed. C.J. Holdsworth (Thoroton Society Record Series XXIX, 1972), p. xcv. 12 The grant was recorded in an inspeximus by the abbot of Rufford in 1280, two years after Clairvaux had leased it to Rufford, and also in a memoranda roll of 1413: E 159/190, Michaelmas Recorda rots. 55d–56. The inspeximus is the first entry in a short cartulary of thirteen documents, mostly papal instruments, about the later history of this grant, certified by two French notaries in March 1476. The tenth deed in it is the 1278 agreement between Clairvaux and Rufford. The cartulary is in Troyes, Archives départementales de l’Aube, 3 H38. I am very grateful to Professor Nicholas Vincent for lending me his photocopy of it. See also C.H. Lawrence, ‘An English Endowment for the Collège Saint-Barnard’, BIHR xxxvi (1963), 181–9, where a full account of the history of the property from 1249 and the texts of the most important documents are given, and Rufford Charters, III, ed. C.J. Holdsworth (Thoroton Society Record Series XXXII, 1980), 536.

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Robert of Lexington was the first or second eldest of probably six brothers, sons of Richard son of Robert of Lexington and his wife Maud, four of whom made between them a considerable mark on governmental, judicial and ecclesiastical affairs in the first half of the thirteenth century.13 The probable third brother, Stephen, was a schoolman at Paris and Oxford, where he was a pupil of St Edmund Rich of Abingdon, later archbishop of Canterbury (1233–40), and became a canon of Southwell at about the same time as Robert. Later he became a prominent Cistercian, abbot of Stanley in Wiltshire, and eventually abbot of Clairvaux, dying in 1256. Christopher Holdsworth, editor of the Rufford charters and an earlier historian of the family, has credited him with persuading Robert to change his burial place to Rufford, a house of his own order, which seems very likely.14 He is also likely to have encouraged his other brother John to make the grant to Clairvaux in the same year. John of Lexington was evidently much younger than Robert and Stephen, because his own career in the royal service probably did not begin much before 1235, when he received a money fee from the king. Early in his life he may have studied at the schools, since in 1255 the annals of Burton described him as being skilled in both civil and canon law.15 In the years before 1232 he had been a household knight of Ranulph III earl of Chester, and it seems to have been after the earl’s death in that year that he entered the king’s service, serving Henry in Ireland as sheriff of Munster and constable of Limerick castle in 1235.16 For most of 1240 he was justice of Chester, then in royal hands.17 After acting as an envoy to Rome in 1241, in 1242 John became a steward of the royal household, which he remained until 1255. As such he also served ex officio as a judge in the king’s personal court, the court Coram Rege (later King’s Bench), in which his brother Robert never sat, and where he seems to have taken a leading role at some points between 1247 and 1251, when the court lacked a senior professional justice. He later twice became the king’s chancellor, in 1247–8 and 1249–50. He frequently witnessed Henry III’s charters, much more frequently than Robert. His status in the household made him very close to the king on a day to day basis during some periods. His witnessing began in September 1237, and ended on 4 October 1255 at Lincoln.18 Matthew Paris did not notice John’s death and left no obituary, but Paris certainly knew him by 1253, when he gave the chronicler information about miracles performed at the tomb of Thomas of Hertford, archdeacon of Northumberland; he called John ‘a man of great authority and learning’.19 Paris also mentioned him in connection with the famous trial of Jews in Lincoln in 1255 for the supposed 13

Two accounts of them, differing in some details, are given in Open Fields, 85–7, and, especially, Rufford Charters, I, pp. xcii–c. In what follows I have drawn heavily on Holdsworth’s account. G.I. Langmuir, ‘The Knight’s Tale of Young Hugh of Lincoln’, Speculum xlvii (1972), 459–82, is also useful. 14 Rufford Charters, I, p. xcvi. 15 Ann. Mon., i. 345. 16 The Charters of the Anglo-Norman Earls of Chester, c. 1071–1237, ed. G. Barraclough (Record Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, 1988), nos 273, 380–82, 392, 433; 35th Report of the Deputy Keeper of Ireland, appendix p. 35, from the destroyed Irish pipe roll for 19 Henry III. 17 CR 1237–42, 173, 188, 200, 210, 215, 222, 223, 252, 271–2; CPR 1232–47, 240. 18 The Royal Charter Witness Lists of Henry III (1226–1272) from the Charter Rolls in the Public Record Office, ed. M. Morris (List and Index Society 291 and 292, 2001), i. 165–71, 173–75, 179, 193; ii. 3–14, 16–19, 21–3, 26–31, 34, 36, 38, 41–2, 47–50, 52–7, 63–7, 72, 74–6, 79–81, 90–2, 95–8. 19 CM, V, p. 384: vir magne auctoritatis et scientie, dominus Johannes de Lexintona, miles. He also included John’s arms, scutum de argento crux de azuro, among the shields illustrated in the Liber Additamentorum: Aspilogia II: Rolls of Arms Henry III: the Matthew Paris Shields, ed. T.D. Tremlett (Society of Antiquaries, 1967), 9, 48 (no. 59); see also 109, 145 (no. 155).

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crucifixion of a Christian boy, when he was said to be ‘circumspect and discrete, and moreover elegantly learned’.20 Robert, an unmarried cleric who had no heirs to whom to pass on his lands, gave John the manors of Warsop and Tuxford in Nottinghamshire between 1235 and 1237, and on Robert’s death John received his other lands, including his holdings in Laxton. By then John had extensive estates of his own, because between 1239 and 1243 he married the Northumberland heiress Margery de Merlay, who brought him her dower lands from her previous marriage to Roger II de Merlay of Morpeth. They were in Nottinghamshire, Lincolnshire, Northamptonshire and Oxfordshire, as well as Northumberland itself. In the event, Margery long survived him, living until 1292. It may be no more than a coincidence, but Robert of Lexington’s writs against the Everinghams, and the charter of free warren issued without the payment of a fine, were granted during one of the two short periods when John of Lexington held the king’s great seal, with control of the sealing of charters and ultimate control over the issue of original writs to bring cases to the king’s court.21 He ceased to be chancellor at virtually the same time as Robert died, and at the point at which he left office he received appropriate marks of royal favour. On 25 May 1250, four days before Robert’s death, the king allowed John and his successors the right to hold their land in the vill of the Peak (Castleton) in Derbyshire by the free service of two pairs of gilded spurs or 6d per annum, payable to the keeper of Peak castle at Easter; the land had previously been held by the sergeanty of making the king’s larder in (i.e. supplying meat to) the castle. At the same time, he was pardoned the 25s he owed to the king at the Exchequer for the time when the land had been held by William fitz Walkelin by grant of King John.22 During the remainder of his life he continued his brother’s patronage of Rufford abbey, and in 1254 or 1255 founded a chantry in Laxton parish church, served by a chaplain paid for by the abbot of Rufford. The beneficiaries of his prayers included Henry III, William de Vescy, his own father and mother, and his brothers and sisters, all relatives or patrons of the family.23 The chantry may have been in the north aisle of the church at Laxton, which he built. John’s heir, after his own death without heirs before 18 January 1257, was an even younger brother, Henry, who, like Robert, was a secular cleric. In 1245 he became dean of Lincoln, and at the end of 1253 he was elected bishop in succession to Robert Grosseteste.24 He was the last of the brothers to be prominent in public life, but he held the family lands accumulated by Robert for only a short time before his own death on 8 August 1258. They then passed to his nephews, Richard of Markham and William of Sutton, respectively sons of Cecily and Elizabeth, the two sisters of the six Lexington brothers, and their husbands Richard of Markham and

20

CM, v. 517: ‘dominus Johannes de Lexintona, vir circumspectus et discretus, insuper eleganter literatus’. Lexington held an inquiry into the events in Lincoln: CPR 1247–58, 453. 21 Handbook of British Chronology, 3rd edn (London, 1986), 85. On the mechanics of and the problems in obtaining original writs from Chancery under Henry III, see A. Hershey, ‘Justice and Bureaucracy: The English Royal Writ and “1258” ’, EHR cxiii (1998), 829–51. 22 C 60/47, m. 9. 23 Borthwick Institute of Historical Research, York, Register of Archbishop Bowet, fols 210v–211r. The full text is given below in the Appendix, 4. A brief summary of the document is given in ‘The Chantry Certificate Rolls for the County of Nottingham’, ed. A. Hamilton Thompson and C.T. Clay, Transactions of the Thoroton Society xvii (1913), 63. For the chantry lands, worth over £54 in 1635, see Open Fields, 85, 132, 141, 302, 315. 24 CM, v. 422.

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Rowland of Sutton. Their families continued in prominence in eastern Nottinghamshire and the neighbouring parts of Lincolnshire for some time.25 It is no coincidence that the dispute of 1249–50 between the Lexington and Everingham families involved a park. John and Robert of Lexington had, from their advantageous position as royal servants and courtiers, been leading promoters of the privatisation of hunting rights in the former ‘forest of the Clay’ in eastern Nottinghamshire after its disafforestation in 1225 and 1227.26 In 1239 and 1243 respectively they received charters of free warren for their manors of Tuxford and Warsop, and Averham, all in the area of the former forest north and west of the Trent.27 They also seem to have been among the first to develop private parks in the area after the disafforestation, although in that respect they were slightly preceded by their neighbours in parishes immediately adjacent to Laxton, John de Lacy at Kneesall by 1226 and Jordan Foliot at Grimston by 1229.28 Not only did Robert of Lexington create the park at Hartshorn on the south-eastern edge of the parish of Laxton, the cause of the dispute of 1249–50, but he or John may also have been responsible for that at Tuxford, which certainly existed by 1262–3, when it was in the hands of Master William of Lexington, and which was mentioned again in 1289.29 In 1252 the Everingham estate at Laxton itself included two parks, probably of long standing.30 Between 1189 and 1194 John count of Mortain confirmed to Ralph fitz Stephen and Maud de Caux, then holders of Laxton and the forest (see Table, opposite), that they should have their parks in Laxton, be able to hunt in them, take beasts and do with them whatsoever they wished.31 It was a privilege granted to them, among others, because of the stewardship of the forest in Nottinghamshire inherited by Maud from her ancestors. No one other than the king was supposed to have parks in the forest, although one or two others did manage to do so. Their continued existence in the later thirteenth century is well documented. Sometime between 1269 and 1280 John of Everingham allegedly committed suicide by drowning himself in a fishpond in Adam of Everingham’s park in Laxton,32 and in 1281 pannage was being taken in the two parks.33 On the death of John de Longvilers in 1297 half of the two parks he held had pasture worth only 9s. annually, because there was now underwood there.34 Hartshorn park certainly also survived the events of 1249–50, although in 1257, in the inquisition post mortem on the lands

25

For the history of these two families, see Rufford Charters, I, pp. xcix–cii, cvii–cxvi; for an outline of the subsequent descent of these properties, see Open Fields, 88–90. 26 On this process generally, see D. Crook, ‘Charters of Free Warren and the Petition of the Barons, 1227–1258’, TCE, viii, 33–48. 27 CChR, i. 241; CPR 1232–47, 398. 28 D. Crook, ‘The Development of Private Parks in Medieval Nottinghamshire’, Transactions of the Thoroton Society cvi (2002), 73–80. 29 Rufford Charters, II, ed. C.J. Holdsworth (Thoroton Society Record Series XXX, 1974), no. 554; Abstracts of the Inquisitions Post Mortem relating to Nottinghamshire, II, ed. J. Standish (Thoroton Society Record Series IV, 1914), 33. 30 C 132/13, no. 10; Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 109. The herbage of one was said to be scarcely sufficient to sustain oxen, and the herbage of the other was worth an average of one mark a year. One of them may be represented by the area now known as East Park Wood, recorded in 1635: Open Fields, map I, p. 281, plot 3022. 31 The Sherwood Forest Book, ed. H.E. Boulton (Thoroton Society Record Series XXIII, 1965, for 1964), 49. 32 JUST 1/669, rot. 2d. 33 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, p. 13. 34 Ibid., p. 147.

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of John of Lexington, Hartshorn was called a wood and was listed under Kneesall.35 However, it is mentioned as a park in a final concord of 1259 and in the inquisition of Robert of Markham in 1289, when it was described as a small park with no underwood, but with pasture worth 4s 6d annually, held of the earl of Lincoln for 2s a year.36 It may have survived until at least the first half of the seventeenth century, since hawking with dogs is depicted in the appropriate area of the famous map accompanying the survey of Laxton made by Mark Pierse in 1635, although it is not then shown as enclosed.37 There are therefore clear indications of a rivalry between the two families within their home parish of Laxton, partly built around their rival parks and warrens and perhaps hunting rights generally. Even a parish a large as Laxton was not big enough to contain their rivalry. This was not, however, just a dispute about hunting reserves. It was the product of a wider and long-standing antagonism between these two important families, which probably went back over half a century before 1249, and the differences between them owed much to political, legal and social changes which had occurred during that period. Robert of Lexington and the other children of Richard son of Robert of Lexington were loved and sustained by Ralph fitz Stephen, chamberlain of Henry II and husband of Maud de Caux of Laxton, in the years before his death in 1202, as we know from a passage in a letter to Robert from his brother Stephen.38 At his death in 1258, the younger brother Henry, the bishop of Lincoln, was said to be over sixty years old, so he may still have been quite young when their protector died.39 Robert himself must have been born before 1190, since his first recorded employment was rendering his father’s account for the lands of Maud de Caux at Laxton in 1206 and 1207, before he served as a clerk to Brian de Lisle, who was holding the forest in Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire instead of Maud, by 1210.40 In 1214 he became a prebendary of Southwell,41 and was an established royal clerk by January 1221, when he filed what must be the oldest surviving English intelligence report after tracking the rebellious count of Aumale on behalf of the justiciar, Hubert of Burgh, during the count’s flight north from Oxford through Nottinghamshire into Yorkshire.42 In Michaelmas term 1220 he served as a justice in the Bench for the first time, and in 1223 both held his first assize commission and himself obtained one, led by the prior of Lenton, to hear his case against Welbeck abbey over common of pasture in Oxton pertaining to his tenement at Oxton.43 While he was coming to be of increasing consequence among the king’s servants at court, and acquiring lands in Nottinghamshire and several other counties,44 Robert of Lexington was building up, through a variety of transactions, a significant estate in his home parish (see Map 1). Holdsworth thought that his father Richard 35 36 37 38

CIPM, I, no. 378; II, no. 722; Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 34, 115. CP 25/1/283/15, no. 365; Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 34. Illustrated in Open Fields, plate 13a and map IV, plot 3059. Rufford Charters, I, p. xcii and note 5: ‘qui nos et nostras cum tanta dilectione amplexatus est, fovit et nutrivit et bene fecit, cum potuit’. 39 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 115. 40 PR 8 John, 79; PR 9 John, 118; PR 12 John, 156. Lisle was prominent among King John’s household knights, and became a household steward by 1213: S.D. Church, The Household Knights of King John (Cambridge, 1999), 9–10, 140–45. 41 RLP, 115b. 42 SC 1/1, no. 116, printed in Royal Letters, I, no. 148. 43 CPR 1216–25, 393, 397. 44 Rufford Charters, I, pp. xciv–xcv, is the best account of this.

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continued to be resident there as late as December 1228, when the archbishop of York granted him the right to have a chapel in his curia in Laxton, reserving the rights of the parish church. However, the ‘dominus R. of Laxinton’ who received this privilege seems much more likely to have been Robert himself, who had become well established in Laxton parish during the 1220s.45 Moorhouse, the hamlet at the extreme eastern end of the parish, had been granted to Robert by John of Birkin, then lord of Laxton, between 1224 and 1227, and this transaction may record the creation of a chapel in his residence there, some distance from the parish church in Laxton village.46 The chapel may be the one ‘with a yard about it’ mentioned and illustrated in Moorhouse on the survey and map of 1635.47 Possibly it had been rebuilt, because in 1575 it was said to have been in ruins.48 The modern chapel, rebuilt by the Denisons of Ossington in 1861, was constructed sometime between 1635 and the nineteenth century on a different plot immediately opposite Lexington’s on the other side of a lane running north.49 As early as 1220 Robert had been granted materials from Moorhouse wood to repair his houses, but it is not clear whether the houses in question were in Moorhouse or in Laxton itself.50 The original deeds and other instruments recording the acquisition of Robert’s estate in Laxton parish have not survived, but at least one indication of his method of operation against lesser inhabitants of the village does exist. At the very beginning of Easter term 1231, on or about 7 April, Roger son of Geoffrey brought a writ of entry against Lexington in the Bench, which resulted in the first entry in the plea roll of that term, during which Lexington was consistently accorded third place among the justices after Thomas of Moulton and William Raleigh. The case was about four bovates and two tofts in Laxton, in which Roger claimed Lexington had a lease whose term had expired. An agreement was made in which Roger remitted his claim to the land, part of which was held by Roger himself and part by his father, in return for a payment of 2 marks. They took their final concord recording the settlement of the matter two weeks later, at Easter One Month, about 21 April. Lexington’s name was omitted from the list of justices at the head of the fine for the only time during the term, the normal practice when a justice was a party in a case.51 Despite this, it is difficult to believe that his humble opponent was not somewhat overawed by the power and influence of the justice into selling him a piece of land which he had held on lease and was apparently unwilling to give up. He had to deal more carefully with the lords of Laxton, from whom he was also acquiring property. During the term following this transaction, in the 1231 Yorkshire eyre in which he was the most senior justice after the justiciar Stephen Seagrave, Lexington made a final concord with the new lords, Robert of Everingham and his 45

Rufford Charters, I, p. xciii (where he gives the date as 1229); Reg. Archbishop Gray, ed. J. Raine (Surtees Society LVI, 1872 for 1870), 27. The rector of Laxton was ‘M’, the vicar another ‘R’, so the Orwins seem mistaken in stating that Robert was rector of Laxton: Open Fields, 85, followed by Beckett, History of Laxton, 12. 46 Beckett, History of Laxton, 12, suggests that the fishponds on the sloping ground south of the church in the area known as Hall grounds or orchard were related to a nearby residence of the family in the centre of the village itself. 47 Open Fields, 284, plot 3086, and map V. Several neighbouring plots, 3083–5, 3087–90, had houses then, so the possibility that one of these began as his house must be considered. Plot 3092 belonged to the Dean and Chapter of Southwell, so the possibility of a grant made by the family to the secular church with which they were closely connected should also be considered. 48 CPR 1572–5, no. 2829 (p. 457). 49 Beckett, History of Laxton, 223–4. 50 RLC, i. 421b. 51 CRR, XIV, no. 1198; CP 25/1/182/5, no. 106.

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wife Isabella, which was a compromise over 100s worth of land, 50 acres of land and 15 acres of wood in Laxton and the services of free men, villeins and cottagers which went with them.52 He was to hold them as he had by agreement with Thomas of Birkin, Isabella’s brother, the previous lord, who had died in 1230, for a yearly payment of 10 marks.53 Also, Robert and Isabella and their heirs granted him all their other tenements in Laxton, Moorhouse and Newton,54 to hold of them as before, paying scutage at the rate of half a knight; they also warranted this to him. In return Robert and his heirs quitclaimed to the couple and their heirs the 50 acres of land and 15 of wood, and dropped his demand for the making of bounds between Laxton and Moorhouse, which had been in dispute. He was not included in the list of justices at the head, even though he appeared in all the other fines of that eyre, but the circumstances surrounding this agreement must have made his growing power and influence very clear to the Everinghams. The clause about the dispute over boundaries indicates that this was a genuine conflict between the parties which resulted in a compromise. The Everinghams had been holders of the lordship for only a year, and there was already disagreement over the boundaries between their estates. The full extent of Robert of Lexington’s accumulating holdings in Laxton and some other villages nearby is indicated in detail in a charter he obtained from his royal master at Westminster on 4 February 1232.55 This came at a time when, as a well-established justice of the Bench of middling seniority, and as a trusted senior royal servant, he was in a good position to safeguard his landed estate by securing royal confirmation of it and a record of its details in a solemn royal document.56 In this list of acquisitions the court transaction of nearly a year before is referred to as ‘the gift of Roger son of Geoffrey of Lexington of four bovates in Laxton’. Other realities may lie behind the other transactions recorded in the charter, which are described mostly in similar terms. A detailed account of some of the other lands mentioned in the charter was given by the Orwins.57 The large amount of later topographical material available for Laxton means that some of them can be fairly confidently identified, and the contents of the charter can thus provide a more than usually detailed indication of the nature and distribution of the estate and its relationship with the main manor in Laxton. Lexington’s most extensive holdings were on the southern and eastern fringes of the parish, and the principal component was Moorhouse, where he may have had his residence, although no trace of it has yet been identified. His park at 52

CP 25/1/263/24, no. 57; printed in full below in Appendix, 3, and calendared in Yorkshire Feet of Fines 1218–31, ed. J. Parker (Yorkshire Archaeological Society LXII, 1921), 162, no. 585, where the file number is incorrectly given. This is a Nottinghamshire fine misfiled in a Yorkshire file. There is no related entry in the surviving civil pleas roll of the eyre: JUST 1/1042. 53 He had leased them from Birkin for twelve years: CChR, i. 150. 54 Possibly Newton on Trent, Lincolnshire. 55 CChR, i. 149–50. He had first witnessed royal charters himself in July 1227, and periodically thereafter, always when the court was at Westminster, except on the last occasions in 1241 at Woodstock: The Royal Charter Witness Lists of Henry III, i. 38–40, 63–4, 69, 74, 76, 88–9, 107, 128, 180; for the witness list of his own charter, see 113. 56 He was named fourth in seniority in the Bench fines of that Hilary term, behind Stephen of Seagrave, Thomas of Moulton and William Raleigh, but ahead of other distinguished judges, William of York, Master Robert of Shardlow, Ralph of Norwich and Adam fitz William. He had been slightly late returning to Westminster after the Christmas vacation, missing five of the fines dated to the octave of Hilary (20 January), which suggests that he might have been spending some time on his Nottinghamshire estates. 57 Open Fields, 93–6; see also The Place-Names of Nottinghamshire, ed. J.E.B. Gover, A. Mawer and F.M. Stenton (London, 1940), 54–5, 299.

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Hartshorn stood on the south-eastern edge, and he also held part of Laxton wood, beyond the stream then called the ‘Ballandebec’ and now Bollam Beck,58 and all of the wood called ‘Knapenshay’, to be identified with ‘Knapnay Hill, wood’ and neighbouring portions named in the 1635 survey, located on the eastern edge of the South Field.59 The meadow of ‘Nabheng’ was also on the south, and may be identified with the ‘Nabbing close’ of 1635, on the southern edge of the Mill Field on the Kneesall boundary.60 He also held lands in the open fields near the village centre, in particular ‘Crouchwell’ (now Crouch Hill) in the West Field and ‘Langhill’ (?Langwell syke) in the Mill Field.61 The details given in the 1232 charter also permit some understanding of the chronology of the building up of the estate. It seems to list the original grants from the lords of Laxton in chronological order. The first two were made by Maud de Caux before her death in 1224, at which point Lexington also had some unspecified land of hers in his custody, which he was ordered to hand over to her heir John of Birkin when the latter made fine for his relief.62 The next four grants were made by John of Birkin between 1224 and his own death in 1227, including the portion of Laxton wood close to the Bollam Beck and a field strip (cultura) close to Kneesall wood held of John de Lacy, conveyed by a final concord of 1226.63 There was one further grant by Thomas of Birkin, who died in 1230, and the last was by the Everinghams in 1231, but concerning land which Lexington had already held under a twelve-year agreement with Thomas of Birkin, a reference to the final concord made in the 1231 Yorkshire eyre. The Caux grants seem to have consisted partly of lands in or near the village and the open fields, and it was John of Birkin who gave him Moorhouse and the part of the wood south of the stream, while from Thomas he acquired ‘Knapenshay’ wood. His position mainly on the eastern and southern fringes of Laxton parish therefore seems mainly to have been established between 1224 and 1231, although he did acquire all Maud de Caux’s woods in Moorhouse before her death. In 1220 he was allowed to take reasonable estovers in his wood of Moorhouse to enclose his hays and repair his houses, so he seems already to have been established in the hamlet to some extent by that date.64 As already mentioned, he briefly held Maud’s lands in 1224 before John of Birkin performed homage for them, and he may have turned this opportunity to his advantage.65 Even though he was technically a Birkin tenant, Robert of Lexington was still in a powerful position vis à vis that family after John of Birkin began to hold the lands, by virtue of his position as a judge. In the Bench fine of Easter 3 weeks (11 May) 1226, in which Lexington appears fourth among the justices after Simon of Pattishall, Thomas of Moulton and Thomas of Heyden, he was specifically described as ‘the man and tenant of John of Birkin’. This fine was the agreement already mentioned by which Birkin quitclaimed 80 acres of Laxton wood to John de 58 59

See Appendix, 1, below. Open Fields, 282–3, plots 3043–5, 3057–8, the wood being plot 3044, all shown on map IV. See also 237. 60 Open Fields, 254, plots 1934–5, shown on map III. 61 Open Fields, 95, 208 (plots 270–303), shown on map II; 261–4 and map III. 62 Excerpta e Rotulis Finium, I, ed. C. Roberts (Rec. Comm., 1835), 116–17. He did not hold the forest, which was placed in the hands of Hugh de Neville. 63 CP 25/1/182/3, no. 32, Appendix, 1, below. See also CRR, XII, nos. 436, 2148. 64 RLC, i. 421b. The Everinghams retained some woods in Laxton, because in 1247 Isabella agreed to allow Simon de Cockfield and his wife Isabella to have reasonable estovers in them to burn and to build in their manor of Westborough (Lincolnshire): CP 25/1/283/12. no. 1222. 65 CPR 1216–25, 439; Excerpta e Rotulis Finium, i. 117.

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Lacy, who then enfeoffed Lexington with two-thirds of it on either side of the Bollam Beck (the remaining third part extending on the north along the length of Lacy’s park of Kneesall, which was retained by the latter for himself and his heirs). The fine also conveyed to Lexington a strip in the fields of Laxton, formerly held by Ralph fitz Stephen and near Kneesall wood to the north, for the combined service of a sore sparrowhawk or 2s annually at St James’s Day (25 July).66 Six months later, on 22 September, the opening day of the 1226 Nottinghamshire-Derbyshire eyre at Nottingham, Lexington was the third of the justices in precedence, after the bishop of Lincoln and Stephen of Seagrave, before whom a case concerning the future of the whole Birkin half-barony, including half of the manor of Laxton, was settled by a final concord.67 He must have been an uncomfortable tenant and neighbour to the lords of Laxton because of his elevated position in the king’s judicial administration. Lexington exercised power not only centrally in the Bench at Westminster, but also as a justice in eyre and an assize commissioner. He was a justice in eyre 64 times between 1221 and 1244. For the first 33 of these eyres, until 1234, he was a junior or puisne justice, but in the subsequent 31 he was the chief justice, although he sometimes had to yield nominal precedence to senior ecclesiastics. Only two of these eyres were in Nottinghamshire, in 1226 and 1240, and in the latter he served as chief justice; in the eyre circuits of 1232 and 1236 he served in circuits other than that which included Nottinghamshire.68 Until after his death Nottinghamshire eyres were jointly held with Derbyshire eyres, because until 1256 the two counties shared a joint county court as well as a sheriff.69 In the eyre of 1240 Lexington was in charge of all common law pleas in the whole area covered by the forest jurisdiction of the lords of Laxton. During Bench vacations between 1223 and 1244 he also held common assizes, especially assizes of novel disseisin, in many counties as far apart as Yorkshire and Dorset (where he held the farm of the manor of Bere Regis from 1233),70 but particularly in those in the east midlands, especially in Nottinghamshire. He was commissioned to hold, alone or jointly with colleagues, at least 132 assizes of various kinds, about 38 of them in Nottinghamshire disputes, at a variety of different venues, from large boroughs to small towns or villages.71 Laxton never seems to have been used for this purpose, possibly out of deference to the Everinghams, but neighbouring Wellow was used on at least three occasions, on 30 September 1233 (the plaintiff being Jordan Foliot of Wellow), 2 May 1234 (two assizes) and 30 September 1237.72 Four years after Robert retired, in 1248, his personal assize ‘circuit’ in the east midlands and Yorkshire was in effect inherited, after an interval, by his brother John, who added Northumberland, which contained the centre of his wife’s estates, and occasional

66 67

CP 25/1/182/3, no. 32, printed in full below in Appendix, 1. CP 25/1/182/3, no. 33, printed in full below in Appendix, 2; Records of the General Eyre, 80. Another fine in that eyre, between John of Birkin and Ralph de Cressy, mentions Lexington both as the former lord of the property and as one of the justices before whom it was made: CP 25/1/182/4, no. 65. 68 Records of the General Eyre, 16–17, 80, 88, 96, 98. 69 D. Crook, ‘The Establishment of the Derbyshire County Court, 1256’, Derbyshire Archaeological Journal ciii (1983), 98–106. 70 CIPM, I, no. 174; C 60/32, m. 5; C 60/33, m. 9. 71 The following is based on a detailed study of Robert of Lexington’s assize commissions, largely of the unpublished commissions on the dorses of the patent rolls after 1232. Those on the rolls for the seventeenth to thirty-first years of Henry III (1232–47) were transcribed by C.A.F. Meekings in the 1950s and are currently being prepared for publication. 72 C 66/43, m. 3d; C 66/44, mm. 17d, 16d; C 66/47, m. 3d (manuscript calendar, nos 126, 158, 180–1, 760).

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assizes in other northern counties. John received over 100 commissions during the years from 1251 until just before his death in 1257, including 26 in Nottinghamshire and another 9 in Derbyshire.73 None of these directly challenged the Everingham hegemony in Laxton and Sherwood Forest, but they provided a potentially hostile focus of power in the area in which their rivals had long been accustomed to an unrivalled and privileged position. The Alselin/Caux/Birkin/Everingham family was long established by the thirteenth century (see Table). It had its origins in the Domesday holding of Geoffrey Alselin, what was later called the barony of Shelford, which later sources strongly suggest was divided for unknown reasons between Ralph Alselin, a nephew and the ancestor of the Bardolf family, and the first Robert de Caux. He was the husband of a daughter of Ralph of Normanville, possibly named Basilia, in the reign of Henry I; Normanville may have been the first custodian of the Nottinghamshire forest. Later each family often paid half the rate of relief on half a barony established by Magna Carta, £50, and paid scutage on about 15 fees.74 Its fortunes were largely based on long tenure of the hereditary keepership of the forest of Nottinghamshire, which in 1237 they claimed had been granted to them by Henry I.75 The Everinghams also claimed that their custody of the forest was the reason why, in 1281 and 1287, they were relieved of the service of 10 of the 12½ knights’ fees of the barony which they held.76 Their keepership was based on their baronial caput at Laxton, where they had a large motte and bailey castle north of the centre of the village, whose earthworks still survive. It seems likely that the castle’s size and importance, and perhaps even its creation, resulted from their forest hegemony, and that the centre of the barony was then moved from Shelford.77 Four of the fees of the honour of Shelford were said in 1281 to have been in Nottinghamshire, half of one of them being held in Laxton.78 In 1235–6 the Everingham fee of the barony of Caux in Laxton was reckoned at three-quarters of a fee, but in 1242–3 it was said to be one and half fees of the old enfeoffment.79 When John and Henry of Lexington died, respectively in 1257 and 1258, they were said to hold half a knight’s fee in Laxton of Adam of Everingham; this was the holding mentioned in the Lexington-Everingham final concord of 1231.80 Henry of Lexington’s inquisition gave the estate’s value as £16 13s 11d. In 1289, on the death of Richard of Markham, it was worth £34 2s.81 As already noted, Holdsworth has shown that Ralph fitz Stephen, husband of Maud de Caux from about or after 1176–77 until his death in 1202, played a significant part in bringing up the Lexington brothers, and plausibly suggested that their grandfather Robert may therefore have been Robert de Caux, Maud’s father, and that 73

C 66/59, mm. 11d, 10d, 6d, 5d; C 66/60, mm. 8d, 5d; C 66/61, m. 4d; C 66/62–4, 67–9 passim; C 66/70, mm. 17d, 16d; Excerpta e Rotulis Finium, ii. 36, 119, 141, 153, 178, 198, 216, 218, 226, 240, 246. The last one was issued on about 28 December 1256. 74 I.J. Sanders, English Baronies: A Study of their Origin and Descent (1960), 76–7. 75 The Visitation of Yorkshire 1563 and 1564, ed. C.B. Norcliffe (Harleian Society XVI, 1881), 115; D. Crook, ‘The Early Keepers of Sherwood Forest’, Transactions of the Thoroton Society lxxxiv (1980), 14–20; and ‘The Archbishopric of York and the Boundaries of the Forest in Nottinghamshire in the Twelfth Century’, in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy: Essays in Honour of Sir James Holt, ed. G. Garnett and J. Hudson (Cambridge, 1994), 325–40; cf. The Registrum Antiquissimum of the Cathedral Church of Lincoln, VII, ed. K. Major (Lincoln Record Society XLVI, 1953), 217–18. 76 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 13, 26. 77 I have benefited from discussion of this point with Keith Challis and Sarah Speight. 78 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 13. 79 Fees, i. 534; ii. 982, 990. 80 Appendix, 3. 81 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 115–16, 134.

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Richard of Lexington, the brothers’ father, was perhaps an illegitimate son of the family.82 To this speculation can be added a further fact that Holdsworth was unaware of, that there was another Maud de Caux who was the aunt of the first and the mother of Thomas of Birkin.83 There was also the Maud le Caux who lived at what is now Caus farm at Ashgate in Brampton near Chesterfield in Derbyshire, and the only record of whom appears to be her tomb-cover, which is now on a wall at the west end of Old Brampton parish church.84 Her family is relatively well documented in charters of the later thirteenth century and afterwards.85 The possibility that the Derbyshire Maud and the ancestor of the Birkins were one and the same must be considered. It seems unlikely that Richard of Lexington’s wife, another Maud, was the Derbyshire Maud, but the sharing even of such a common forename must invite speculation. Whatever the truth, Robert of Lexington and his brothers must have been known to Isabella of Everingham at least by reputation within her family, and she may have inherited attitudes to Richard of Lexington and his brood from them. As already shown, she was in conflict with Robert by the year after she succeeded to her brother’s estate in 1230. The origins of the animosity between the families must have derived from the history of the custody of the manor and forest since the reign of Richard I. During his tenure of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire while the king was absent on crusade, and then imprisoned in Germany, between 1189 and 1194, Count John had confirmed the hereditary forestership to Maud de Caux and Ralph fitz Stephen. Following the death of Ralph in 1202, King John removed the forest from Maud. Richard of Lexington was given custody of the manor of Laxton, and the administration of the forest, except for the royal enclosures and park, which were administered by the sheriff, and he held it as a royal servant for three years. In 1207, however, he fell out of favour and was disseised of the manor for maladministration of the forest. His chattels were sold for nearly £31, which he was later allowed to count towards the fine of 200 marks which he had offered for the king’s benevolence, later reduced to 100 marks. This was a period when John made several visits to Laxton, in 1205, 1206, 1209, 1212 and 1213, when he must have stayed at the castle with the family and on at least one occasion hunted in the forest there.86 In 1206 he used his visit to grant half the church of Shelford to another of the Lexington brothers, possibly the eldest, Peter, later Master Peter, who was presented to the church by John in 1215 and retained it until his death about 1249.87 In 1206 Peter’s father held the Caux barony on John’s behalf, so the senior family may have regarded it as a slight that a son of the lesser one was at that time inserted into the church of the former caput of the barony by the king. The manor and forest were administered by Brian de Lisle, as deputy to the chief forest justice, Hugh of Neville, from 1207 to 1215;88 it was recorded in the enquiry into knights’ fees in 1212 that the barony of Laxton was in the king’s hands and Brian de Lisle was answerable for it.89 From 1210 onwards Robert of Lexington, Richard’s son, worked as Lisle’s clerk, beginning at about the point at which his

82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89

Rufford Charters, I, pp. xcii–iii. Crook, ‘The Early Keepers of Sherwood Forest’, 15–16. N. Pevsner, revised by E. Williamson, The Buildings of Derbyshire (London, 1986), 106. I.H. Jeayes, Derbyshire Charters (London, 1906), nos 417, 418, 420, 421, 425, 426, etc. Pipe Roll 14 John, 169. RLP, 59b, 129. PR 10 John, 50–1; PR 11 John, 112; PR 12 John, 127; PR 13 John, 90–1; PR 14 John, 167; RLP, 72b. Fees, i. 153.

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father was restored to royal favour. Richard fell foul of John again during the civil war in 1216, when at Berwick on 17 January he fined 100 marks and two palfreys for the king’s benevolence, while on 1 January the men of Laxton offered £100, payable within eight days, to have peace and that their houses should not be burned.90 It looks as though Richard had rebelled and that John consequently threatened to destroy the village when he arrived there on his way north, fresh from his capture of the rebel stronghold at Rochester; and that Richard, after fleeing north, thought better of his opposition to his royal master and submitted soon afterwards. The Caux custody of the forest and the family barony was only with some difficulty restored to Maud de Caux after John’s death and the end of the war. On 6 October 1217 Maud made a fine of 60 marks with the young king, Henry III, for restoration of the barony,91 and orders were issued for that to happen, and for the both the sheriff, Philip Marc, and Brian de Lisle to remove their officials. Marc evidently disobeyed, and in April 1220 complaints were made about the number of his men in the forest and the ‘grave exactions and oppressions’ they were making, and by the summer of that year complaints were reaching the government and the papal legate, Pandulf. Meanwhile Marc held an enquiry of his own into the number of officials the king needed in the forest and reported his findings, but was sharply told not to trouble Maud de Caux, whose forestership was confirmed while Marc was ordered to withdraw his men.92 Maud made a new fine of 80 marks for restoration of the custody as her hereditary right, and found her pledges for paying it from Lincolnshire.93 Not long afterwards she was involved in a conflict with the national forest administration, because in November 1221 she had to be pardoned for replacing a forester without the assent of the chief justice of the forest, and for not making a regard of the forest when it was in her custody.94 This clash of jurisdictions was to lead before the end of the century to the demise of the older one. It is difficult to judge what these events did to the relationships and attitudes within the leading families in Laxton, particularly between Maud de Caux and Richard of Lexington and his son Robert, but they may have helped to create a poisonous legacy, which was passed on to the next generation. The rise of Robert and then John of Lexington in particular to positions of influence in justice and administration at the court of Henry III may have offended the older established family, whose position depended to a considerable extent on the favour of Henry I and Henry II in the previous century. The unnerving events of crisis in the years between 1202 and 1217 may have fostered an atmosphere of dislike and mistrust, created by competition between the two families for the favour of the mercurial King John. Isabella of Everingham, daughter of John of Birkin, the son of Adam fitz Peter, lord of Birkin in the West Riding of Yorkshire, by his first wife Joan Arundel,95 probably inherited this dislike of the children of Richard of Lexington. She acquired the Laxton estate and the keepership of the forest on the early death of her brother

90

Rufford Charters, I, p. xciii; Rot. Fin. 569, 570. On the same day John took 100 marks from the men of Retford, and a few days later made a similar threat to the men of Thirsk, receiving 80 marks from them. 91 C 60/8, m. 1. 92 PR 1216–25, 123; RLC, i. 431, 441b. 93 PR 4 Henry III, 154; RLC, i. 431, 436, 441b. 94 RLC, i. 480. 95 For the Birkin pedigree, see Early Yorkshire Charters, III, ed. W. Farrer (privately printed, 1916), 359, which omits the older Maud de Caux and has Adam fitz Peter married to her niece; for a grant by Adam and Maud to Rievaulx, dated to between 1170 and 1185, see p. 360.

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Thomas of Birkin in 1230, married Robert of Everingham, of Everingham in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and lived until 1252, dying soon after both her husband and Robert of Lexington. Isabella was born no later than 1204, when her mother died.96 Her upbringing therefore coincided at least partly with the period of crisis both in the fortunes of the Laxton families and of the politics of rebellion and civil war in the later years of John and the minority of Henry III. She may therefore have learned to distrust the Lexington brothers, even if she grew up in Yorkshire rather than Laxton. Her adult life coincided exactly with the continuing rise of Robert of Lexington to the second highest judicial office in the kingdom, and his creation of his own estate mainly in the south and east of Laxton parish, partly through transactions with her father and her brother, and then with herself in 1231, and in other places in Nottinghamshire and elsewhere. When she and her husband took possession of her fee and the forest custody on paying their relief of 200 marks in November 1230, it was from Robert of Lexington, their temporary custodian, that she received them.97 During the few years since the death of the younger Maud de Caux in 1224, the area under the family’s forest keepership had in any case been drastically reduced as the terms of the Charter of the Forest, reissued together with Magna Carta in 1225, were at last implemented. In 1225 and 1227 the area of the forest in Nottinghamshire was limited to what had become known as Sherwood Forest, and the eastern part stretching to the Trent, the forest of the Clay, was disafforested. Also, the entire area of the forest of eastern Derbyshire, contiguous with Sherwood, was disafforested in 1225.98 The Everingham custody of the reduced area, consisting now only of Sherwood forest, nevertheless continued throughout the reign of Henry III and the first part of the reign of Edward I. It was challenged, however, by Lexington’s close colleague William Raleigh, when he was chief justice of the court Coram Rege during the period after that court’s revival in 1234. In 1237 Raleigh embarked on a quo warranto campaign on behalf of the crown, challenging the title to franchises held by leading subjects in the same way as the much better known campaign carried out by the legal officers of Edward I after 1278, and was aimed in particular at hereditary foresters. Among the franchises challenged was the hereditary keepership of Sherwood Forest, with Isabella of Everingham defending it in court at Doncaster at the beginning of October 1237, but her tenure was apparently confirmed early in 1238 and continued.99 Isabella held the office until her death in 1252, when she was succeeded by her son Adam of Everingham. He seems to have exercised the office sometimes through a deputy. In 1265, when he was infirm, Adam was using Richard de Lascelles as his deputy steward of the forest to hold an inquisition to confirm the rights of the men of Mansfield to reasonable estovers in the forest.100 Lascelles had been one of 96

CIPM, I, no. 255; Early Yorkshire Charters, iii. 359; Early Yorkshire Charters, XI: the Percy Fee, ed. C.T. Clay (Yorkshire Archaeological Society, Record Series, Extra Series IX, 1963), 9, 201. See also The Percy Chartulary, ed. M.T. Martin (Surtees Society CXVII, 1911), 110. 97 Excerpta e Rotulis Finium, i. 202–3, 206–7. In 1227, when Thomas of Birkin received the lands, the temporary custodian was the sheriff of Nottinghamshire: ibid., 162. 98 D. Crook, ‘The Struggle over Forest Boundaries in Nottinghamshire, 1218–1227’, Transactions of the Thoroton Society lxxxiii (1979), 35–45; ‘The Forest between the Erewash and the Derwent, 1154 to 1225’, Derbyshire Archaeological Journal cx (1990), 93–104. 99 For the details, see Crook, ‘The Early Keepers of Sherwood Forest’, 14–20. 100 Inquisitions Post Mortem Nottinghamshire, II, 122. Despite his infirmity, he was thought to have taken part, with a number of followers, in the resistance of Montfortian rebels under John de Deyville (of Egmanton) in the Isle of Axeholme in 1266: CPR 1258–66, 538.

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Isabella of Everingham’s pledges in the case of 1249–50, and was probably one of the Lascelles family of Brayton in the West Riding of Yorkshire on the Lacy fee, connected with the Birkins and Birkin itself since at least the middle of the twelfth century.101 John de Lascelles, who was active as ‘steward of the forest’ in 1277, presumably as Adam of Everingham’s deputy, may have been his son.102 John was closely associated with his new master, Robert of Everingham, who had succeeded his father Adam in 1280, in some forest offences committed in 1283, which resulted in the end of the hereditary keepership a few years later.103 By the 1280s the hereditary forest keepership held by the Everinghams must have been regarded by the government as archaic and an administrative nuisance. The office of justice of the forest for the whole of England had been established since the late twelfth century, and the subsequent division of the office into two justiceships, north and south of the Trent, was permanently established in 1239. The justiceship north of the Trent was held by John of Lexington himself for a few years. On 25 November 1252 the king granted him 100 marks annually out of the issues of the forests as long as he held the office; he still held it in March 1255, but had ceased to do so before 11 November that year.104 He took office shortly after the death of Isabella of Everingham, and in carrying out his duties in respect of Sherwood Forest he had sometimes to work in cooperation with Adam of Everingham, but more often carried out royal instructions independently, although occasionally Everingham himself also did the same.105 Adam’s bailiwick over the whole of Sherwood Forest, except the five hays of Beskwood, Willey, Linby, Bilhaugh and Birkland and the park of Clipstone, in succession to Isabella, was confirmed by an inquisition in August 1252, after her death and shortly before John of Lexington took office.106 The existence of the two officials did however sometimes provide alternative means of carrying out forest administration. In August 1284 an instruction to make a gift of deer from Sherwood was sent as normal to Geoffrey of Neville as justice beyond Trent, but he died before it was executed and the order was therefore sent to Robert of Everingham as steward of the forest for him to carry out.107 By then the family’s tenure of that office was nearing its end. On 4 November 1286 it was ordered that Robert of Everingham, John of Everingham and nine others, imprisoned at Nottingham for trespass of venison in Sherwood Forest, were to be bailed to appear before the justices in eyre of the forest who were soon to visit Nottingham.108 At the eyre in 1287 the office was removed from Robert for many defaults of which he was convicted.109 The chief justice of the eyre was none other than William de Vescy, chief justice of the forest beyond Trent, who was the second son and namesake of the lord of Rotherham who had provided Robert of Lexington with his benefice there in 1227, had given John of Lexington half the manor and half the church 101 102

CRR, XIX, nos. 1530, 2272; Early Yorkshire Charters, iii. 225–7, 357–9. Their relationship may be confirmed by a pedigree in The Visitations of the County of Nottingham, 1569 and 1614, ed. G.W. Marshall (Harleian Society, 1871), 57, but no dates are given. 103 The Sherwood Forest Book, 116, 124–5; see also 119. 104 CM, v. 379–80; CPR 1247–58, 165, 435; CR 1254–56, 235; CLR 1251–60, 289. 105 CR 1251–53, 138, 156, 281, 302, 313, 333, 348, 352, 353, 360, 395, 396, 397, 420, 453; CR 1253–4, 64, 79, 95, 103, 184, 239, 249, 257, 263, 296; CR 1254–56, 23, 125, 342. 106 CR 1251–53, 150. 107 CCR 1279–88, 273. 108 CCR 1279–88, 404. The commission for the eyre had been issued in July 1286, for it to begin at Michaelmas, but it actually began on 14 January 1287: ibid., 422. 109 For the offences, committed in 1283 and 1284, and the sentence, see The Sherwood Forest Book, 124–7.

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in 1242, and who had been prominent among those remembered in the prayers endowed by John in Laxton parish church in 1255.110 Later in 1287 Robert of Everingham died, having permanently lost the office held by his family for nearly 200 years. In the spring of 1289 Vescy held an inquisition into the privileges formerly exercised by the Everingham family in Sherwood, and the jurors reported that the king could now confer the office on whoever he wished.111 Later at least one unsuccessful attempt was made by the family to regain the hereditary keepership, when Adam of Everingham petitioned Edward II in parliament in January 1315.112 He also may have made another during the 1334 Nottinghamshire forest eyre.113 Although probably closely related, the two families’ power and influence derived from two different sources. The older one’s fortunes were based on the favour of a twelfth-century monarch who gave them a barony with the function of governing a royal forest and only a light feudal service. In the less-favourable circumstances of the thirteenth century they tried to cling on to what they held without significant adaptation to or engagement with newer developments in royal administration, and they made little use of the royal courts on their own initiative. Their rivals the sons of Richard of Lexington, on the other hand, made their way in royal administrative and jurisdictional service, and to very high levels in the church, initially by benefiting from the misfortunes of the older family and then by using their advantages to build up an estate in more far-flung parts of the same parish, further threatening the position and assumptions of the older family. They were unencumbered by military service except by the small liability to pay scutage on half a fee. It is therefore not surprising that the two came into direct and violent conflict by the mid-point of the thirteenth century. In the end, however, the older established family, after having survived only by bringing in a new male head of the family from outside the county three times between about 1176 and 1230, managed to carry on with a unified estate, although shorn of its original raison d’etre after 1287. On the other hand, the newly-created estate was successively held by three brothers who died within eight years without male heirs, when it had to be divided between two heiresses. The end of the direct Everingham line did not come until 1398, after which their successors seem to have lost interest in Laxton and its castle, which was ruinous by the death of Sir John of Etton in 1443 and probably earlier.114 In the middle of the thirteenth century Laxton was riven by the struggle for local power between two contrasting families; a century and a half later there was no resident lord and the manors there were the properties of families who lived elsewhere.

110 111 112

Reg. Archbishop Gray, 19. The elder William died in 1253 (CM, v. 411). The Sherwood Forest Book, 47–8; CIPM, II, no. 638 (p. 393). SC 8/2/82; see also SC 8/202/10073. The response was that Vescy’s eyre roll was to be checked and the king to be informed as to the reason for the deprivation. 113 The Sherwood Forest Book, 49. 114 C 139/58, no. 29: ‘the site of the manor is ruinous’.

Appendix of Documents 1. Bench final concord concerning 80 acres of wood in Laxton, circa 11 May 1226 CP 25/182/3, no. 32 Hec est finalis concordia facta in curia domini regis apud Westmonasterium a die Pasche in tres septimanas anno regni Regis Henrici filii Regis Johannis decimo coram Martini de Pat’hill’, Thome de Muleton’, Thome de Heiden, Roberto de Lexinton’, Galfrido le Sauvag’ et Warino filii Johel’ justiciariis et aliis fidelibus domini regis tunc ibi presentibus, inter Johannem de Birkin querentem, per Johannem de Sutton’ positum loco suo ad lucrandum vel perdendum, et Johannem de Lascy constabularium Cestr’ deforciantem de quater viginti acris bosci in Lexinton’ unde placitum fuit inter eos in eadem curia. Scilicet quod predictus Johannes de Birkin recognovit totum predictum boscum cum pertinenciis esse jus ipsius Johannis de Lascy. Et illum remisit et quietum clamavit de se et heredibus suis eidem Johanni de Lascy et heredibus suis in perpetuum, salva eidem Johanni de Birkin et heredibus suis et hominibus suis de Lexinton’ communa pessone et herbagii in eodem bosco ad omnia averia eorum de Lexinton’. Et pro hac recognicione, remissione, quieta clamancia, fine et concordia, idem Johannes de Lascy dedit et concessit Roberto de Lexinton’ homini et tenenti ipsius Johannis de Birkin pro homagio et servicio suo duas partes eiusdem bosci cum pertinenciis, scilicet illas duas partes que sunt propinquiores rivo qui vocatur Ballandebec, ita quod tertia pars ipsius bosci sicut extenditur ex parte aquilonali in longitudinem parci eiusdem Johannis de Lascy de Kneshal’ remanet ipsi Johanni de Lascy et heredibus suis quiete. Et preterea idem Johannes de Lascy dedit et concessit predicto Roberto unam culturam terre in campis de Lexinton’ quam Radulfus filius Stephani tenuit et que est propinquior bosco de Kneshal’ versus aquilonem. Ita quod predictus Robertus et heredes sui habeant et teneant easdem duas partes predicti bosci et predictam culturam cum omnibus pertinenciis suis in omnibus rebus de predicto Johanne de Lascy et heredibus suis imperpetuum, reddendo inde annuatim unum espervarum sorum vel duos solidos ad festum Sancti Jacobi pro omni servicio, consuetudine et exactione seculari. Et pro hac donacione et concessione idem Robertus de Lexinton dedit predicto Johanni de Lascy decem marcas argenti. Et sciendum quod si predictus Robertus vel heredes sui implacitati fuerint de eodem bosco vel predicta cultura per heredes Radulfi filius Stephani idem Johannes de Lascy vel heredes sui non tenebuntur ad warantizationem eiusdem bosci vel terre eidem Roberto vel heredibus suis faciendam. Et idem Robertus remisit et quietum clamavit de se et heredibus suis totum jus et clamium quod habuit fecandi in dominico bosco eiusdem Johannis de Birkin qui vocatur Suthwold nec ibi exigere poterunt husbote vel heybou’. Noting’

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2. Nottinghamshire eyre final concord concerning half the barony of Shelford, circa 22 September 1226 CP 25/1/182/3, no. 33 Hec est finalis concordia facta in curia domini regis apud Noting’ in crastino Sancti Mathei anno regni Regis Henrici filius Regis Johannis decimo coram domino Hugone Linc’ episcopo, Stephano de Segrave, Roberto de Lexinton, Willelmo filius Warini et Willelmo Basset justiciariis et aliis domini regis fidelibus tunc ibi presentibus, inter Adam de Ledes petentem et Johannem de Birkin tenentem de medietate manerii de Lexinton’ et de quarta parte manerii de Schelford’ de quarta parte manerii de Stok’ et de quarta parte manerii de Gedling’ cum pertinentiis unde placitum fuit inter eos in prefata curia, scilicet quod predictus Adam recognovit omnes predictas terras de Lexinton’, Schelford’, Stok’ et de Gedling’ cum omnibus pertinenciis sui in omnibus rebus esse ius ipsius Johannis et illas remisit et quietas clamavit de se et heredibus suis eidem Johanni et heredibus suis imperpetuum. Et similiter idem Adam remisit et quietum clamavit de se et heredibus suis ipsi Johanni et heredibus suis imperpetuum totum ius et clamium quod habuit vel habere potuit in superplusio tocius baronie que fuit Roberti de Cauz antecessoris eiusdem Johannis in Anglia, videlicet in feodis militum, in dominicis et reditibus, in homagiis et serviciis librorum hominum, in vilenagiis, in boscis, pratis et pasturis, in molendinis, stagnis et vivariis et in omnibus aliis rebus ad ipsam baroniam pertinentibus. Et pro hac recognicione, remissione, quieta clamacione, fine et concordia, idem Johannes dedit et concessit predicto Ade totam terram quam habuit in Heton’ et in Frisingehal’ cum molendinis et cum omnibus aliis pertinenciis suis, scilicet quicquid ibidem habuit in dominico vel servicio, habenda et tenenda eidem Ade et heredibus suis de predicto Johanne et heredibus suis imperpetuum, faciendo inde forinsecum servicium quantum pertinet ad duas carucatas terre unde quatuordecim carucatas terre faciunt servicium unius militis pro omni servicio. Noting’ 3. Yorkshire eyre final concord concerning land and woods in Laxton, circa 7 July 1231 CP 25/1/263/24, no. 57 Hec est finalis concordia facta in curia domini regis apud Ebor’ die lune proxima post festum Sancti Swithun’ anno regni Regis Henrici filius Regis Johannis quintodecimo coram Stephano de Segrave, Briano filius Alani, Ranulfo filius Roberti, Willelmo de London’, Willelmo de Insula et Magistro Roberto de Scherdelawe justiciariis itinerantibus et alii domini regis fidelibus tunc ibi presentibus, inter Robertum de Lexint’ querentem et Robertum de Everingham et Isabellam uxorem eius impedientes de centum solidis et quinquaginta acris terre et quindecim acris bosci cum pertenciis in Lexint’, unde placitum fuit inter eos in eadem curia. Scilicet quod predictus Robertus de Lexint’ recognovit totam predictam terram et boscum cum pertinenciis esse ius ipsius Isabelle. Et pro hac recognicione fine et concordia predicti Robertus de Everingham et Isabella concesserunt predicto Roberto de Lexint’ predictos centum solidos terre cum pertinenciis in homagiis et serviciis liberorum hominum, villanorum et cotmannorum et in omnibus aliis rebus ita plene et integre sicut eas prius tenent per conventionem inde factam inter eum et Thomam de Birkin’ fratrem ipsius Isabelle, habendum et tenendum eidem Roberto de Lexint’ et heredibus suis de predictis Robertum de Everingham et Isabellam et heredibus ipsius Isabelle imperpetuum, reddendo inde annuatim decem marcas ad duos

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terminos anni, scilicet medietatem ad festum Sancti Martini et aliam medietatem ad Pentec’ pro omni servicio, consuetudine et exaccione. Et preterea predicti Robertus de Everingham et Isabella pro se et heredibus ipsius Isabelle [con]cesserunt115 predicto Roberto de Lexint’ omnia alia tenementa sua cum pertinentiis in Lexint’, Morhus’ et Neuton’ tenenda de eisdem Roberto de Everingham et Isabellam et heredibus ipsius Isabelle sicut illa plenius et liberius prius tenuit, faciendo inde in tantummodo scutagium quantum pertinet ad feodum dimidii militis pro omni servicio. Et illa simul cum predictis centum solidis terre cum pertinentiis eidem Roberto de Lexint’ et heredibus suis warantizabunt, defendant et acquietabunt contra omnes gentes per predictum servicium dimidii militis et decem marcarum imperpetuum. Et sciendum quod predictus Robertus de Lexint’ remisit et quietum clamavit de se et heredibus suis predictis Roberto de Everingham et Isabelle et heredibus ipsius Isabelle totum ius et clamium quod habuit in predictis quinquaginta acris terre et quindecim acris bosci cum pertinentiis imperpetuum et similiter totam demandam quam habuit versus predictos Robertum de Everingham et Isabellam de divisis faciendis inter Lexint’ et Morhus, unde contencio fuit inter eos. Ebor’ 4. Foundation deed of the Lexington chantry in Laxton church, circa 1255 Borthwick Institute of Historical Research, University of York, Register 18 (Register I of Archbishop Bowet, 1407–23), fols 201v–211r; inspeximus by Bowet Ordinacio cantarie in ecclesia de Lexington’ Omnibus ad quos presens scriptum pervenerit Galfridus abbas de Rufford et eiusdem loci conventus salutem in domino. Noveritis nos teneri domino Johanni de Lexington’ et heredibus suis imperpetuum ad solvendum annuatim quinque marcas uni capellano quem idem Johannes constituit et ordinavit divina perpetuo et successive celebraturum apud Lexington’ in matric’ ecclesia ad altare beate Marie quod idem Johannes construxit ubi corpora matris sue sororum que suarum requiescunt. Ita quod quandocumque presbiter antedictus qui pro tempore fuerit in fata decesserit vel exinde recesserit heredes predicti Johannis alium presbiterum assignabunt ibidem sicut predicitur ministraturum pro sue libito voluntatis, videlicet pro anima ipsius Johannis Margerie uxoris sue et pro animabus Henrici regis filius regis Johannis, Willelmi de Vescy, Ricardi patris eiusdem Johannis, Matildis matris sue, et pro animabus domini Henrici Lincoln’ episcopi, Roberti de Lexington’, magistri Petri de Gedeling’, fratrum suorum, et pro animabus sororum parentum et omnium benefactorum suorum et pro animabus omnium eorum de quorum bonis aliquid recepit invite vel spontanea voluntate et pro animabus omnium fidelium defunctorum, videlicet medietatem ad festum Sancti Martini in yeme et aliam medietatem ad Pentecosten. Si vero in solucione predictarum quinque marcarum ad aliquem terminum deficamus, concessimus pro nobis et successoribus nostris quod predictus Johannes et heredes sui sine impedimento vel contradictione nostra possint per totam terram de Kyrketon’ et Boketon’ [Kirton and Boughton, Notts.], et per omnia catalla nostra ibidem sive alibi in comitatu Notynghamie inventa et omnibus aliis modis quibus voluerint et viderint expedire, et per judicem ecclesiasticum seu civilem quem eligere voluerint nos compellere ad plenam solucionem, et ad satisfaciendum predicto capellano tam de dampnis quam expensis que vel quas incurrerit vel fecerit occasione predicte pecunie sibi debite et non solute. Renunciantes omni appellacioni 115

Faded.

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impetracioni regis et papali privilegio fori et omni remedio juris civile et canonice et omnibus que possunt obici contra istud instrumentum vel factum. In cuius rei robur et testimonium presens scriptum in modum cirographi confectum sigilli munimine roboravimus. Hiis testibus Ricardo de Sutton’ canonico Suthwell’, Roberto le Vavasur tunc vicecomite Notingham, Waltero de Ludham, Willelmo de Sutton’, Roberto de Ripariis, Roberto de Wlrington’, Roberto de Sutton’, Roberto de Marcham, Ricardo de Jors, Johanne Coleman et aliis.

Absenteeism: The Chronology of a Concept

Beth Hartland There is no doubt that the origins of the English words ‘absentee’ and ‘absenteeism’ are to be found in the pages of Irish history.1 The question to be pursued here is how far back into that history the search for the beginnings of a developed consciousness of English ‘absenteeism’ and its effects upon the lordship of Ireland should be pushed. Writing in the opening decades of the twentieth century, Goddard Henry Orpen set out to correct ‘the strong tendency amongst Irish writers to assume that nothing but evil resulted to Ireland from Anglo-Norman rule’.2 In arguing thus Orpen was swimming against the tide of events, or at least their propaganda, for in 1916 and 1919 proclamations had been made renouncing 700 years of foreign usurpation.3 Orpen felt that Irish writers had ‘in mind the troubled history of Ireland in much later times’ when they considered what he referred to as the Anglo-Norman era. It likewise seems plausible that in dealing with lords who held land in Ireland but who resided elsewhere, the judgement of some historians has been coloured by the criticisms of absentee landlords of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.4 Not only was absenteeism inherently bad news, or ‘evil’ to use the word favoured by Edmund Curtis,5 but it began to be bad news from an early date. Several historians have located this early date in the mid thirteenth century with the coincidence of two key events: the grant of Ireland to the lord Edward in 1254 and the division of the great lordship of Leinster among female heiresses who were married to English lords. Thus Absenteeism: The Chronology of a Concept

the partition of Leinster did irreparable damage to the lordship, and a future growth of marchlands in many parts of Leinster, with all the military and economic problems the marches posed, must be attributed in large part to the long-term effects of this partition. For the division of great lordships, which had been conceived as strong units, inevitably led to weakness . . . [and] The weakness was exacerbated by the associated problem of absenteeism, for naturally none of the people who shared in the partition was going to reside in Ireland.6 1 2 3 4

See The Oxford English Dictionary, Volume 1 A–B (Oxford, 1933), 36. G.H. Orpen, Ireland under the Normans 1216–1333, 4 vols (Oxford, 1920), iv. 250. Irish Historical Documents 1172–1922, ed. E. Curtis and R.B. McDowell (London, 1943), 317–18. Cf. Robin Frame, ‘Absenteeism’, in The Oxford Companion to Irish History, ed. S.J. Connolly (Oxford, 1998), 2. 5 Irish Historical Documents, 61; Edmund Curtis, A History of Ireland, 3rd edn (London, 1937), 111, 123. 6 J.F. Lydon, ‘The Expansion and Consolidation of the Colony, 1215–54’, in A New History of Ireland ii Medieval Ireland, 1169–1534 (Oxford, 1987), 156–78, esp. 169 (hereafter NHI, ii). See also J.F. Lydon, ‘Land of War’, in NHI, ii. 275–302; Kevin Down ‘Colonial Society and Economy in the High Middle Ages’, in NHI, ii. 439–91, esp. 462–3; Robin Frame, ‘Two Kings in Leinster: The Crown and the

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According to this argument, the effects of this development were apparent by the late thirteenth century; for the newly divided Leinster simply could not withstand the attacks of the Gaelic Irish when these began to occur in earnest from the 1270s onwards. There is no denying that the need to undertake defence in Leinster was real and increasing during the final decades of the thirteenth century, but this need was met to a very large degree by the administrations of the successor lordships of Leinster; and, although the Dublin government was concerned that the seneschals of the respective parcels of Leinster should act together, it did not once in the period prior to the Bruce invasion of Ireland comment upon the non-residence of their lords.7 Neither, it will be argued here, did the Bruce invasion of Ireland in 1315 herald the beginning of a demonstrably strong general consciousness of ‘absenteeism’ among the resident lords of Ireland. The invasion provided the backdrop to a summons of non-resident lords to the defence of the lordship in January 1317, but this was far from a summons of ‘absentees’. In fact consciousness of absenteeism as a problem continued to grow throughout the mid fourteenth century. The Anglo-Irish stance on absenteeism was much stronger in the 1360s than it was even in the early 1330s. In 1331 ordinances concerning Ireland were made in parliament at Westminster; and only one article out of twenty-two dealt with residence on lands in Ireland. This article stipulated that all persons having lands and tenements in Ireland, as well religious persons as others, be forewarned that they reside in the same, whether they be in marches or elsewhere, or that they place sufficient guard for the preservation of the peace in the same, before the feast of St Peter ad vincula next to come, and if they shall not do so, that the King, on their default, take the said lands and tenements into his hand and make order concerning their sufficient keeping.8 This article has been interpreted as a complaint against absentees and thus regarded as dealing with ‘a long-standing grievance of the colonists’.9 This article was, however, arguably as much about resident lords who did not reside upon their march lands, preferring to reside on their lands safely located in the ‘land of peace’ (the contemporary phrase for lands not bordering the lands of the Gaelic Irish), as about lords who were not resident in Ireland at all. The abandonment of march lands certainly was a long-standing grievance of the Dublin government. But there was no ambiguity over the summons sent to thirty-eight non-resident lords in 1331–2. According to the summons, the fact that the king’s Irish enemies were able to waste and occupy the lands and possessions of the king’s nobles and sub-tenants who held in Ireland but lived in England through their want of proper custody of the lands was notorious.10 A strong sense of the absenteeism of non-resident lords clearly existed MicMurchadha in the Fourteenth Century’, in Colony and Frontier in Medieval Ireland. Essays Presented to J.F. Lydon, ed. T.B. Barry, Robin Frame and Katharine Simms (London, 1995), 155–75, esp.158; Katharine Simms, ‘Relations with the Irish’, in J.F. Lydon, ed., Law and Disorder in Thirteenth-Century Ireland: The Dublin Parliament of 1297 (Dublin, 1997), 66–86, esp. 82; Curtis, History of Ireland, 83; Billy Colfer, Arrogant Trespass: Anglo-Norman Wexford 1169–1400 (Wexford, 2002), 75; Orpen, Normans, iii. 75–6. 7 Statutes and Ordinances, and Acts of the Parliament of Ireland. King John to Henry V, ed. H.F. Berry (Dublin, 1907), 211, 271, 273. 8 Ibid., 329. 9 J.A. Watt, ‘The Anglo-Irish Colony under Strain, 1327–99’, in NHI, ii. 352–96, esp. 379. 10 ‘notorium est, quod vestrae, et aliorum nobilium et subditorum nostrorum in regno nostro Angl’ moram faicencium, in partibus Hibern’ possessiones et terrae, per inimicos nostros ibidem, de guerra

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by this time; and with good reason, if the incredibly poor personal response to the summons is anything to go by.11 By the 1360s the Anglo-Irish consciousness of absenteeism had developed markedly. The absence of English landholders from Ireland was not only being taken seriously, but negatively as well. Edward III’s 1368 ordinance concerning the land of Ireland made this plain. The immediate context of the production of this ordinance was that the king had asked a general parliament in Ireland to debate how best to counter the destructive activity of the Irish who ‘rode in hostile array through every part of the said land’ causing such destruction ‘that the land was at point to be lost, if remedy and help were not immediately supplied’. This parliament could suggest only one solution: ‘the coming and continual residence of the earls, nobles, and others of . . . England, who have inheritance in . . . Ireland . . . upon their lordships, lands, possessions and inheritances’. Far from being regarded as but one factor among many, the non-resident lords were being singled out by the Anglo-Irish as the root cause of the lordship’s problems. By 1368 the Anglo-Irish had also come to the conclusion that the English were wrong to absent themselves from their Irish lands for, as they explained to the king, upon the first conquest of Ireland . . . many honours, lands, possessions, and inheritances . . . were given and granted in inheritance . . . to many nobles and others of his realm of England, in order that they should continually reside and dwell in their own persons with their families upon the said conquest, to defend and maintain it for ever against all men who should attempt to rise or to rebel against the said conquest, on his fealty and allegiance. [But] that his said subjects of England having inheritances in such manner in his said lordship of Ireland, have, since obtaining their inheritance, for the most part dwelt in England and elsewhere, and drawn and levied the fruits and revenues of their said inheritances without defending them, and without doing their duty in this case, whereby all the said evils and mischiefs without any opposition have occurred.12 This statement was, of course, not entirely true. The Anglo-Irish, after all, descended from those settlers who did choose to reside continually in Ireland (mainly because they were not endowed more fully elsewhere). And, on the other hand, Henry III and Edward I, at least, had been guilty of granting Irish lands to their English and other subjects with no expectation of their continual residence there.13 Nevertheless, this statement was an important development. For the first time, the Anglo-Irish adamantly stated that the king’s English lieges were breaking the terms of their ancestors’ feudal agreements with the king. And not only had they not defended their lands, they had also creamed off the profits and (by implication) left whatever estate administrators they employed without the means to defend the lands in their stead. This was a concept of absenteeism heavily tinged with the Anglo-Irish desire for the blame for Ireland’s condition to fall squarely, and not vastatae et occupatae, pro defectu custodiae, existunt . . .’ (Foedera, II. ii. 1327–1344 (London, 1821), 825). 11 Exactly how poor the response was may require investigation, however, since it is possible that even Thomas de Brotherton, earl of Norfolk and half-brother of King Edward II, may have travelled to Ireland in the wake of this summons (NAI, RC8/16, 197–8). 12 Statutes and Ordinances, 470–1. 13 Beth Hartland, ‘English Landholding in Ireland’, TCE, x (2005), 119–29, esp. 127–8.

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entirely unfairly, upon absentee shoulders. One further Anglo-Irish phrase from the 1368 ordinance should be noted. The Anglo-Irish found that the English with inheritances in Ireland should come ‘in their own persons or by strong men, sufficient and well equipped for war’. That the lands were defended, and quickly, was more important to the Anglo-Irish than the specifics of who exactly carried that defence out. The Anglo-Irish concept of absenteeism was formed in the context of general Irish raiding upon the settlers’ lands.14 Provision of lordship could be a key stabilising factor: hence the justiciar’s concern in 1278 that a number of the ‘great men were absent’.15 Did the 1368 comment of the Anglo-Irish suggest that, having provided no lordship in the past, perennial absentees were not necessarily going to be more effective in ending Irish raiding than their hired hands? The Anglo-Irish consciousness of absenteeism as a problem, then, was clearly still developing in the mid fourteenth century. The main concern of this article is to determine what stage this development had reached by 1317, the year of the so-called first summons of absentees. Prior to the Dublin Parliament of 1297, there was little sign that the resident lords at large regarded their more usually nonresident counterparts as absentee in the pejorative sense of the word. No doubt individual resident lords were irked by the absence of particular non-resident lords at particular times, but in the late thirteenth century it was still possible for defendants who did not appear in court on the day assigned to be allowed more notice because they resided in England, rather than be penalised for that fact. The general thirteenth-century notion of absenteeism was against all lords, the habitually resident as well as those for whom Ireland formed only a part of their itinerary, who held land in the marches of Ireland but failed to properly fortify and colonise them and thus bring them within the land of peace.16 Lordly residence upon such land was not then a government stipulation. Neither was it required by the enactments of the Dublin Parliament of 1297.17 This parliament, called ‘in order to establish peace more firmly’,18 did, however, issue the first clear injunction against the ‘absentee’ activities of certain non-resident lords.19 This was contained within the third enactment of the parliament. This enactment began more generally, stipulating that all lords holding at least £20 worth of land should keep appropriate horses and arms for the pursuit of felons.20 That this first clause was not ‘anti-absentee’ in intent is evident from the fact that when landholders were found not to have acted in accordance with this order, there was no disparity in how the laxity of resident and non-resident lords were treated; nonresident lords were no more culpable for their offence than their resident counterparts.21 But the second clause of the enactment was clearly focused against those ‘magnates and others who remain in England or elsewhere outside this land and who cause the profits of their land to be sent to them from this land, sending nothing here 14 15 16 17

Cf. Frame, ‘Absenteeism’, 2. CDI, 1252–84, no. 1510. See, for example, CDI, 1171–1251, nos 125, 574, 1445, 1546, 1576. See Philomena Connolly, ed., ‘The Enactments of the 1297 Parliament’, in Lydon, ed., Law and Disorder in Thirteenth-Century Ireland, 139–61. 18 Ibid., 149. 19 Robin Frame, English Lordship in Ireland, 1318–1361 (Oxford, 1982), 56 n.16; cf. Ciaran Parker, ‘The Politics and Society of County Waterford in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries’ (Ph.D. thesis, Trinity College Dublin, 1992), 45. 20 Connolly, ‘Enactments’, 153. 21 See, for example, NAI, RC7/4, 419; Calendar of Justiciary Rolls Ireland, 1295–1303, ed. J. Mills (Dublin, 1905), 175 (hereafter CJR).

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to protect their tenements or tenants’. From henceforth they were to leave ‘a sufficient portion’ of their profits with their bailiffs for the defence of their land in the event of war or disturbance of the peace. Those who failed to do so would suffer distraint. This may not have been evidence of such a ‘belligerent attitude’ towards absentees as contained in the Anglo-Irish statements of the 1360s,22 but it was certainly a move in that direction. The surprise might therefore be that it was not until January 1317 that a summons was issued requesting that non-resident lords attend to the defence of their Irish lands.23 Edward Bruce, brother of Robert, had invaded Ireland in May 1315. Whatever the objectives of this invasion, the results were plain: coinciding with a period of severe famine, three years of warfare devastated the English lordship.24 It was hardly surprising that eventually the minds of the Dublin government would turn to those lords who held land in Ireland but were resident elsewhere for help. But the key word here is eventually. At the Dublin Parliament of 1297, the responsibility of non-resident lords to provide for the defence of their lands had been made clear; it would be reasonable to have expected a summons of non-resident lords to have been issued much earlier than January 1317. Of course, we neither know when the Dublin government began to lean on the king to issue such a summons, nor exactly whose idea the summons was, but the delayed nature of the writ (more than a year and a half after the Bruce invasion had begun) suggests that pressure on Westminster was not immediately administered by Dublin.25 Regardless of the date of its issue or the precursor provided by the Dublin Parliament, however, it is clear that the 1317 summons was not a summons of ‘absentees’. First, the text of this summons differed from the summons of absentees of 1331 and 1361 in two particularly significant ways.26 These later summons were issued to the king’s lieges with lands in Ireland who resided in England, and stipulated that the lands of these English lieges were occupied or wasted by the Irish through want of proper custody. In other words, they identified the recipients as belonging to a recognisable group of culpable individuals. The 1317 summons in contrast did neither of these things. A summons was sent to each of the lords ordering them to go to Ireland in propria persona vestra or to send there sufficient armed men in accordance with the quantity of the lands which they held in Ireland, and to reside there for the salvation and defence of those lands, and in order to repulse the king’s Irish

22 23

Cf. Parker, ‘Waterford’, 45. Foedera, II. i. 1307–1327 (London, 1818), 309; CCR 1313–18, 450–1; PW, II. i. 191. Summons were sent to John de Hastings, John Wogan, William de Camville, William de la Zouche, John de Erley, William de Grandison, Thomas de Multon of Coupland, William de Fienles, John de Carew, Thomas de la Roche of Wales, Herbert de Marisco, Baldwin le Fleming, John Mautravers, Gilbert de Bohun, and John de St Edmund [recte Amand]. Thomas de Brotherton, the earl of Norfolk and half-brother of King Edward II was not ordered to attend in person, but to send a sufficient force of men-at-arms. 24 For the Bruce invasion see Seán Duffy, ed., Robert the Bruce’s Irish Wars: The Invasions of Ireland 1306–1329 (Stroud, 2002), and Robin Frame, ‘The Bruces in Ireland’, in Robin Frame, Ireland and Britain 1170–1450 (London, 1998), 71–98. 25 Since the Dublin government issued an ordinance against foreign ‘absentees’ in 10 Edward II (Statutes and Ordinances, 279), any pressurising of the English government to issue a summons to English lords could perhaps be dated to the same period. Paul Dryburgh has suggested that the mind behind the summons was that of Roger Mortimer, king’s lieutenant in Ireland, who had just been badly beaten by the Scots (cf. Paul Richard Dryburgh, ‘The Career of Roger Mortimer, First Earl of March (c.1287–1330)’ (Ph.D. thesis, University of Bristol, 2002), 51–5). If so, it seems even more anachronistic to refer to this summons as one of ‘absentees’, as Mortimer would surely not have described himself as an absentee in the commonly used, pejorative sense of that word. 26 For the summons of 1361 see Foedera, III. ii. (London, 1830), 609.

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enemies. The particular state of the lands of these English lords was not mentioned. They were being summoned not because they were absentees per se but because the king had decided, no doubt as a result of pressure from Dublin, to send an army to Ireland under the command of Roger Mortimer to help the king’s lieges in Ireland withstand the Scots, and those lords could be regarded as having a duty to serve in such an army. It is important to note that this was arguably the period in which the emphasis on personal service, rather than the payment of scutage, re-asserted itself in the lordship of Ireland.27 The Bruce invasion was a state of emergency and all hands were to be put on deck.28 Second, the summons was not as vitriolic as an order issued by the Dublin government in 1316 had shown contemporary feelings about absentee inactivity to be. This order had criticised those who ‘keep themselves outside our said land, and their rents and farms fully receive, and expend them elsewhere at their pleasure, nor care to apply any costs or expenses in the defence of their lands and tenements’ which ‘principally through their default . . . by divers malefactors and disturbers of our peace have been heretofore destroyed, lie waste and uncultivated’.29 This was a development of the third enactment of the Dublin Parliament. The rents and issues of the lands of these absentees were to be levied and collected for the preservation of the peace and the defence of the land of Ireland ‘whensoever occasion shall require’. The tenor of this order did not, unlike the summons, limit itself to the circumstances of the Bruce invasion. Moreover the intended recipients of the order of 1316 and the summons of 1317 were quite distinct since the culpable absentees referred to in 1316 were ‘any aliens and foreigners whatsoever’ who held land in Ireland. During the Bruce invasion absenteeism was apparently tinged by questions of allegiance. It was not unheard of for the lands of ‘aliens’ to be taken into the king’s hand during periods of war with England. The Irish lands of Geoffrey de Lusignan had been assumed by the king in 1297,30 and those of the abbey of Dundrennan would suffer a similar fate later in the fourteenth century.31 Status as an ‘alien enemy’ depended both on an individual, or an institution’s, allegiance and the circumstances of the time.32 Thus, it was not because of his alien status that the lands of Drogo de Merlawe, who had inherited the de Lusignan lands in England and Ireland, were taken into the king’s hand in 1312. The reasoning behind this assumption was more in line with the stipulations of the Dublin parliament than with the Dublin government order of 1316. It was ‘on account of the weakness of Drogo’s bailiffs’ who were ‘unable to resist’ Robert de Verdun and his accomplices who, in occupying the barony of Louth which Drogo held in chief, had thus risen against the king.33 After 27

Robin Frame, ‘Military Service in the Lordship of Ireland 1290–1360: Institutions and Society on the Anglo-Gaelic Frontier’, in Frame, Ireland and Britain, 283–4. Frame argues that the emergence of the concept of the absentee was due to the apparent distinctions between English and Anglo-Irish society, including the increasing garrison nature of the latter (Robin Frame, ‘Aristocracies and the Political Configurations of the British Isles’, in Frame, Ireland and Britain, 167). 28 The Anglo-Irish magnates had, of course, been ‘on deck’ since the start of the invasion. See J.R.S. Phillips, ‘Documents on the Early Stages of the Bruce Invasion of Ireland, 1315–16’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 79 C (1979), 247–70; Frame, ‘The Bruces in Ireland’. 29 Statutes and Ordinances, 279. 30 ‘Catalogue of Pipe Rolls’, in Reports of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records of Ireland, no. 38, 53 (hereafter Rep. DKI). 31 CDS, iii. 1307–1357, no. 969. 32 For a discussion of ‘alien friends’ and ‘alien enemies’ see R.A. Griffiths, ‘The English Realm and Dominions and the King’s Subjects in the Later Middle Ages’, in R.A. Griffiths, King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1991), 33–54. 33 CCR, 1307–1313, 531.

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finding sufficient security, and appointing attorneys with full powers to handle his affairs in the lordship, Drogo’s lands were restored to him in 1314 by Edmund Butler, the custodian of Ireland, who was shortly to issue the order of 1316 against alien landholders.34 Had Drogo lived, his Irish lands would almost certainly have been assumed by the Dublin government in accordance with this order; in the event, his lands were already in the king’s hands on account of the minority of his heirs.35 Evidence only survives of the 1316 order being carried out against one individual: Otto de Grandison, lord of Grauntson in the Pays de Vaux, former intimate of Edward I, and unashamed absentee by any definition of the term, especially in the Channel Islands where he held the governorship for some fifty years but visited on only one occasion.36 Although he still served on diplomatic missions for King Edward II, Otto had retired from the English political scene following the death of Edward I in 1307. Otto, who had not been in Ireland since the late 1260s, was clearly regarded as a particularly culpable absentee by the Dublin government. Why the Irish council chose to single out ‘aliens and foreigners’ as absentees is not clear: perhaps they had taken their lead from Edward I’s assumption of the lands of aliens during his war with France; or perhaps, in the movement towards the formation of a distinct Anglo-Irish identity, absentee aliens were no longer regarded as forming part of the ‘single aristocratic world’ that still stretched across the Irish Sea at this date.37 Whatever the answer, it is significant that Edward II, probably due to the state of emergency in Ireland, was not prepared completely to countermand the order of the Dublin government even when it affected men who were more accustomed to royal protection. When Otto’s lands were taken into the king’s hand in accordance with the Dublin government’s order of 1316, he duly complained to the king. Edward, however, despite ordering the return of Otto’s lands and their issues, first allowed the Dublin government to take ‘reasonable aid for the lands for the defence of the country’.38 Returning to the summons of 1317, an examination of the lords to whom the summons was sent reinforces the idea that the Dublin government did not regard its recipients as absentees in the same way as it clearly regarded ‘alien’ landholders. The summons was received by William de Grandison, but he, unlike his brother, was very much a feature of the English political scene. How absenteeism at this juncture is to be measured is an interesting question. We could seek to apply the criteria of the 1316 order against alien absentees, but the evidence does not exist to show whether these lords left moneys for the defence of their lands or not.39 Another measure might be to apply the formula proposed by Mountifort Longfield, first

34

NAI, RC8/9, 52–3, 65–7. For a discussion of the different powers held by attorneys see Beth Hartland, ‘Population Selection: English Landholders in Ireland and their Attorneys, c.1270–c.1360’, to be published in K.S.B. Keats-Rohan, ed., Guide to Prosopography (Oxford, forthcoming). 35 Rep. DKI, no. 42, 16. 36 For the career of Otto de Grandison generally see E.R. Clifford, A Knight of Great Renown: The Life and Times of Othon de Grandison (Chicago, 1961). 37 The continued existence of this single aristocratic world is argued for in Beth Hartland, ‘English Lords in Late Thirteenth- and Early Fourteenth-Century Ireland: Roger Bigod and the de Clare Lords of Thomond’, EHR (forthcoming, 2007). 38 CCR, 1313–18, 346; NAI, RC8/10, 152–5. 39 In 1312/13, Thomas de Multon received 234 marks from his lands in Ireland (NAI, RC8/6, 264); what was left in Ireland is unknown. In 1307 Ralph de Monthermer, husband of the countess of Gloucester and lady of Kilkenny, had £110 taken from a box of his in the town of Kilkenny for debts due to the Crown (CJR, 1308–1314, 12). This money was probably intended for private use.

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professor of political economy at Trinity College Dublin. In 1834 Longfield gave a lecture on absenteeism. In it he argued that ‘the absentee proprietor [either] inflicts a positive injury upon his country by living abroad, and drawing and spending his revenue there’ or ‘he injures it in another manner negatively, by depriving his country of those services which he probably would perform if he were to reside at home’.40 Did these non-resident lords at least perform ‘services’ (i.e. the defence of their lands) in Ireland at any time? Did these lords differ in any way from the perennially absent alien absentees represented by Otto de Grandison? Examining the ‘Irish careers’ of those summoned to the defence of the lordship in 1317 reveals quite what a mixed bag they were, reinforcing the likelihood that the Dublin government were far from having a hit-list of ‘prominent absentees’ at this juncture.41 John (II) de Hastings, Lord of Abergavenny and Cilgerran in Wales and Oboy in Ireland, did not respond personally to the summons of 1317. Nevertheless, looking at his career in the broad, it seems harsh to castigate him as an out-and-out absentee in the pejorative sense of the word. He had received seisin of his father’s estates in 1313.42 His father, another John, had granted his Irish estates to his brother Edmund for life some time prior to 1293.43 Edmund does not appear to have visited the lordship. In 1293 John (I) accompanied Gilbert de Clare, earl of Gloucester and Hertford to Ireland, and Edmund re-enfeoffed him of his estates during his stay there.44 The purpose of Earl Gilbert’s (and thus John’s) visit was two-fold: to hear the case between William de Vescy, the lord of Kildare, and John fitz Thomas, the lord of Offaly, who had accused de Vescy of treason; and for ‘the pacification of Kilkenny’.45 For the duration of his stay in 1293–4, then, Hastings was not negatively damaging the lordship by depriving it of offices he could have performed if present according to Longfield’s 1834 formula. On his return to England he, in turn, re-enfeoffed Edmund of his Irish lands. John (I) de Hastings had been an important man: married into the family of William de Valence, the king’s uncle, and with a claim to the Scottish throne, he had served as the king’s seneschal in Gascony from 1309.46 Yet he had journeyed to Ireland when circumstances dictated that he should. Given this, the Dublin government may have been hoping that his son would respond in a similar fashion to the 1317 summons to the defence of the lordship. John (II), however, was busily engaged throughout the period between the seisin of his estates and the 1317 summons on the king’s service in Scotland, fighting the Scots on their first front against the English, where he added his retinue to the troops provided by his uncle, Aymer de Valence, earl of Pembroke.47 In May 1317 he departed abroad on the king’s service,48 perhaps in connection with the attempts to secure the release of the captured Aymer de Valence. It is possible, however, that John (II) did respond to the summons by sending sufficient men to act on his behalf. On 1 August 1318 William de Warwick was given licence to re-enfeoff John with the lands which he

40

Mountifort Longfield, Three Lectures on Commerce and one on Absenteeism delivered in Michaelmas term, 1834, before the University of Dublin (Dublin, 1835), 74. 41 Dryburgh, ‘Mortimer’, 55. 42 Rep. DKI, no. 39, 61. 43 CDI, 1252–84, no. 933. 44 CJR, 1295–1303, 237. 45 Cf. Beth Hartland, ‘Clare, de’, in Seán Duffy, ed., Medieval Ireland: An Encyclopedia (London, 2005), 88. 46 Complete Peerage, vi. 346–8. 47 CPR, 1313–17, 335. 48 Ibid., 656.

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had lately granted to him in Ireland;49 perhaps John had granted his lands to William whilst he dealt with the effects of the Bruce invasion in them? Next on the list was John Wogan. As is well known, John held the senior position (the justiciarship) in the Dublin government for more than fifteen years serving between 1295 and 1308, and again between 1309 and 1312,50 and it was during this period of office-holding that John acquired lands in the lordship.51 John was far from an absentee; and his acquisition of lands from Emelina de Longespee and Christiana de Marisco, the de Ridelesford heiresses, actually took lands out of the hands of non-resident lords. Indeed, a jury of 1305 found that it would be for the advantage and defence of the country if the king were to allow Emelina de Longespee to grant lands at Kilkea and Castledermot to John Wogan.52 During his absence from Ireland following the end of his second term of justiciar, John was busily employed on ‘divers weighty matters of the king’, and in 1315 (the year of the Bruce invasion) Edward II ordered him to remain in Wales.53 Possibly at the request of Roger Mortimer, appointed king’s lieutenant of Ireland in 1317, John was despatched back to the lordship in that year to advise Mortimer on ‘local conditions’,54 in the course of which service Edward II enlarged the terms on which John held Kilkea and Castledermot from a term of years to a grant in fee.55 In 1320 John was still in Ireland, investigating ‘what men of Ireland of the king’s allegiance aided and counselled Edward le Brus’.56 Dying in 1321, John Wogan was clearly far from an absentee landholder by any definition of the word. The former justiciar was not the only one of those English landholders summoned in 1317 who responded positively to the writ. Three other lords also did; these were Herbert de Marisco, Baldwin le Fleming and John Mautravers. It is perhaps more surprising that Herbert de Marisco waited until the summons of January 1317 to attend to the defence of his lands in Ireland, than that he responded positively at all.57 From the values recorded in an inquisition into the lands held by 49 50 51

CPR, 1317–21, 193. H.G. Richardson and G.O. Sayles, The Administration of Ireland 1172–1377 (Dublin, 1963), 82–3. As one commentator put it, ‘Sir John Wogan proved an industrious and capable official in Ireland, but he was also able to take care of number one’ (Francis Green, ‘The Wogans of Pembrokeshire’, West Wales Historical Records 7 (1918), 173). John had served as William de Valence’s seneschal of Wexford from the early 1270s to c. 1280 (Huw Ridgeway, ‘William de Valence and his familiares, 1247–72’, HR 65 (1992), 239–57, esp. 253 n. 79). Henry Owen, Old Pembroke Families in the Ancient County Palatine of Pembroke (compiled in part from the Floyd MSS) (London, 1902), 40, mistakenly attributes John’s land grants in the lordship to the favour of William de Valence. 52 TNA, C143/63. 53 CPR, 1307–13, 646; CPR, 1313–17, 186, 223, 312. 54 G.J. Hand, quoted in Dryburgh, ‘Mortimer’, 61 n. 161. 55 TNA C47/10/18/8; E. St John Brooks, ‘The de Ridelesfords’, Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 82 (1952), 45–61, esp. 55 (hereafter JRSAI); NAI, RC7/12, 152–3, 432–3. 56 CCR, 1318–23, 175–6. 57 He departed for Ireland in April or May 1317 (CPR, 1313–17, 646). The members of the resident branch of the de Marisco family may have been looking after Herbert’s interest for him. There were certainly close connections between the branches. Herbert had held the custody of Richard de Marisco, heir to Balylomasty, Balyregan and Corkduffeney in Co. Tipperary (E. St John Brooks, ‘The Family of Marisco’, JRSAI 71 (1931), 107; NAI, RC7/10, 118). In 1300 it was stated that he shared this custody with Reymund de Carew (NAI, RC7/7, 71), but in 1305 he acted unilaterally in selling Richard’s marriage to John de Druhull (The Red Book of Ormond, ed. Newport B. White (Dublin, 1932), no. 57). Richard’s father, John, had also been in custody in England (NAI, RC7/4, 395–8; CJR, 1295–1303, 164); and this custody may have been held by Herbert’s grandfather, William. In the 1310s Herbert was associated with a William de Marisco, referred to as his servant in 1311/12 (NLI, GO MS 190, 75), and for whom he acted as a pledge in 1314/15 (NAI, RC8/8, 44; NAI, KB2/4, 169–70). In the early 1320s, an Adam de Marisco was acting as attorney for Herbert in Ireland (CPR, 1317–21, 510, 583, 594).

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his grandfather, William, in 1284 it can be calculated that the de Marisco lands in Tipperary contributed some fifty-seven per cent of the value of their lands in England (Somerset) and Ireland.58 Herbert’s stake in the lordship was probably greater than his grandfather’s had been. Herbert was, for example, holding the manor of Kilmeadan in 1307, which was not part of the de Marisco patrimony in 1284.59 Whereas William had sought to increase his landed stake in Somerset at the expense of his lands in Tipperary,60 Herbert’s interest in his Irish inheritance is clear from the frequency with which he entered into litigation in the lordship and his actions in disseising other landholders of their tenements,61 as well as his journey to Ireland in 1310.62 Herbert was not apparently absentee in his actions or interests either before or following the Bruce invasion of Ireland. In 1306 he was remitted 100s of a fine for his ‘laudable service’ done ‘to the King in his war upon the Irish felons’.63 And it was, according to Herbert’s petition of 1323, when he was absent from the lordship at the king’s command to fight against the Scots in Scotland and England that his chief manor in Tipperary was burnt and pillaged by members of the Comyn family.64 The Mautravers family was another that could not be considered absentee by the standards of the late fourteenth century when the most important of the English landholders in the lordship did not journey there at all. The family interest in Ireland only began in 1281, when John (I) Mautravers (d. 1296/7) granted a life interest in the manor of Wolcomb Mautravers, Dorset to Roger Waspail in return for a grant in fee of all Roger’s rights in his lands in County Limerick.65 John (I) visited these lands sometime between 1281and 1283.66 His son, John (II), visited his Irish lands in 1299, a year or so after receiving seisin, and again in 1310. John was clearly interested in defending his lands as he did not wait until the summons of 1317 to make preparations to journey to Ireland. In midsummer 1316 he procured attorneys and protection for two years on account of his going to the lordship.67 He was thus in Ireland before Bruce’s approach to Limerick in the spring of 1317.68 And in December 1317 he was said to be ‘staying in Ireland on the king’s service by virtue of a writ directed to him’.69 This active interest in their Irish lands continued on the part of the Mautravers family into the later fourteenth century when they seem to have regarded their Irish lands as suitable lands for younger sons.70 58 59

TNA, C133/39/7; CIPM, ii. no. 531. Herbert had Kilmeadan of the grant of Walter de la Haye, his father-in-law (CJR, 1305–7, 297–8). In 1317/19 Walter additionally granted Herbert the vill of Clogher, possibly as a result of the Bruce invasion of Ireland (NAI, RC7/12, 193–4). 60 CDI, 1252–84, no. 2090. William had exchanged 20 marks of annual rent in Tipperary for the tenement of Estricheholt in la Pole in Somerset with Alexander Crok. However, William lost seisin of this tenement in Somerset to Maurice Crok (?Alexander’s grandson), and received compensation from the lands of Nicholas Crok (?Maurice’s father) in Ireland. 61 NAI, KB1/1, 6v, 11r, 53r; NAI, EX2/2, 303–4; NAI, RC7/1, 359–61; NAI, RC7/2, 30; NAI, RC7/10, 118, 413; NAI, RC7/11, 135; NAI, RC7/12, 195–6, 228–30, 284–5, 413; NAI, RC7/13/2, 34–5; NAI, RC7/13/4, 40; NAI, RC8/6, 424–5; NAI, RC8/8, 4, 30, 130, 277; NAI, RC8/11, 369–70; NAI, RC8/14, 469; NLI, GO MS 190, 101. 62 CPR, 1307–13, 230. 63 CJR, 1305–7, 505. 64 Calendar of the Chancery Warrants, AD 1244–1326 (London, 1927), 542. 65 CDI, 1252–84, no. 1778. 66 CDI, 1252–84, nos 1829, 1868. 67 CDI, 1293–1301, nos 580–1; CPR, 1307–13, 281; CPR, 1313–17, 480, 508. 68 A.J. Otway-Ruthven, A History of Medieval Ireland (London, 1968), 231. 69 CPR, 1317–21, 64. 70 Frame, English Lordship, 61–2; TNA, C135/83; NAI, RC8/30, 522; Rep. DKI, no. 44, 54.

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Baldwin le Fleming, lord of Slane in Meath, similarly responded to the need to defend his lands before receiving the summons of 1317.71 This was just as well as the Scots reached Slane on 16 February 1317, well before the arrival of the English reinforcements.72 More important for the particular perspective of this paper is that in addition to receiving a summons to defend his Irish lands as a non-resident landholder, Baldwin also received a letter enjoining him to defend the lordship as a resident lord.73 This causes us to wonder whether there was anything concrete associating the men summoned in 1317 with each other aside from the belief of certain Dublin government officials that they were absent from the lordship at that time. Baldwin held lands in Cornwall and Devon but these did not take precedence over his Irish lands which he inherited in 1302. Indeed, in c. 1303–7 it was noted that Baldwin had captured Gillepatrick MacMahon and was detaining him in Drogheda castle. On bringing MacMahon before the king’s justices, Baldwin subsequently acted as his security for a fine of ten marks.74 Baldwin clearly spent a considerable amount of time in the lordship, visiting in 1310 as well.75 There is no evidence that Thomas (II) de Multon responded to the writ of 1317, but it would have been in keeping with his interest in his Irish lands if he had. In 1305–6 he had taken a retinue of nineteen men, including two knights, to the lordship of Ireland;76 an action that may have been undertaken to aid his father-in-law, Richard de Burgh, earl of Ulster, in his defence of his lands in Ulster and/or Connacht.77 He did, then, fulfil the duties of defence incumbent upon a landholder. His general absence from Ireland was dictated by his duties as a household knight which involved him in an almost uninterrupted defence of the Scottish border between 1297 and 1315. Indeed, just over four months after the summons to the defence of Ireland was issued, Thomas was among those summoned to Newcastle against Robert de Bruce. A summons which, it should be noted, was also sent to a number of the other lords summoned to the defence of Ireland, namely, Thomas de la Roche, William de Grandison, William de Camville, and William de la Zouche of Harringworth, as well as to Roger Mortimer, who was to lead the English effort in Ireland.78 The example of Thomas (II) de Multon shows that a failure to respond to the January summons of 1317 did not necessarily signify disinterest in an Irish inheritance, let alone disdain for it.79 More than half the lords summoned had visited their Irish lands on at least one occasion. Thomas (II) de la Roche visited the lordship of Ireland around June 131580 – a journey which may have been undertaken with the need to defend his newly inherited lands in Cork in mind, lands which had been 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

CPR, 1313–17, 480. Otway-Ruthven, Med. Ireland, 230. PW, ii. 486. NAI, RC8/2, 356, 364. CPR, 1307–13, 230. CDI, 1302–7, nos 356, 402; TNA, SC1/26/1. Richard de Burgh was concerned with defensive operations in 1305–6 (CDI, 1302–7, nos 416, 434, 453). It is likely that Thomas, concerned as he was with household duties, travelled to Ireland from Scotland and returned thence, an itinerary which might suggest action in the more northern part of the lordship. 78 PW, ii. 487ff. 79 Parker, ‘Waterford’, 45, sees disdain for Irish lands as central to the ‘traditional concept of absentees’. 80 CPR, 1313–17, 300. Thomas (I) de la Roche died in c. 1314. He had served as sheriff of Connacht for seven years and as sheriff of Cork for five years (CDI, 1285–92¸ nos 120, 123). He probably did not perform these offices in person, the first evidence of his visiting Ireland dating from 1295 when he was summoned to make account (CDI, 1293–1301, no. 88). The debt he owed as sheriff of Cork could not be

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described as waste in 1295. Gilbert de Bohun, who had been granted the Irish portion of his brother’s share of the Marshal inheritance,81 had been present in the lordship, albeit at the king’s command, between 1297 and 1304 as custos of the liberty of Kilkenny and constable of Kilkenny castle.82 And William de Camville and John de Carew both also spent time in Ireland, although neither was as committed to their Irish lands as their fathers had been.83 In the case of the de Carews, however, John’s failure to respond to the writ of 1317 did not signify a complete curtailment of the family’s commitment to its Irish lands. John’s marriage to one of the de Mohun heiresses had refocused his career on Somerset,84 where he served as a commissioner of the peace and on a number of miscellaneous commissions, and Dorset, where he served as sheriff.85 It was such duties in the king’s service in England that occupied John during the years of the Bruce invasion. Nevertheless, John himself visited Ireland in May 1318, and one of his descendants served as escheator of the lordship between 1349 and 1358.86 The story of the de Erley family who held land in Kilkenny and Somerset87 is not dissimilar to that of the de Carews, although the relative lack of interest in their Irish lands in the case of the de Erleys appears to have started earlier. There is no evidence that John de Erley’s father, Henry, ever visited Ireland. Likewise, although John appointed levied from his lands in Ireland which were waste, and had to be levied from his lands in England and Wales (ibid., no. 387). An extent remains of their Welsh lands (CIPM, v. no. 64). 81 For this grant see BL, Cotton MS Titus B XI, fol. 295; Calendar of the Carew Manuscripts Preserved in the Archiepiscopal Library at Lambeth, 5. Books of Howth Miscellaneous, ed. J.S. Brewer and William Bullen (London, 1871), 369, 447. Seán Duffy, ‘Ireland and the Irish Sea Region, 1014–1318’ (Ph.D. thesis, Trinity College, Dublin, 1993), 135–6 dates this grant to Earl Humphrey’s succession to the earldom of Hereford and Essex in 1275. Earl Humphrey and Gilbert drew up an indenture establishing terms in case of Gilbert’s default of the annual payment of £60 in 1291 (B. Smith, Sources for Medieval Ireland in the National Archives of the United Kingdom, c.1200–c.1485 [computer file], Colchester, Essex: UK Data Archive [distributor], April 2004. SN: 4848, DL 25/2044). 82 CDI, 1293–1301, nos 381, 386, 482; CDS, v. no. 1570. 83 William de Camville had visited his lands in 1313 for between one and two years (CPR, 1307–13, 558; CPR, 1313–17, 28); whereas his father, Geoffrey, had visited the lordship on three occasions, in 1278, 1291 (for up to two years) and 1299 (CDI, 1252–84, no. 1453; CDI, 1285–92, nos 933, 948; CDI, 1293–1301, no. 581). The de Camvilles held land in Cahir in Tipperary and Llanstephan in Carmarthen, but their Irish lands do not feature in any inquisitions post mortem (J.R.S. Phillips, ‘The Anglo-Norman Nobility’, in J.F. Lydon, ed., The English in Medieval Ireland (Dublin, 1984), 91; CIPM, ii. no. 76; CIPM, iii. no. 423; CIPM, v. nos 75, 143; CIPM, vi. no. 406). Geoffrey de Camville contested land cases overwhelmingly in Tipperary, but at least one in each of Counties Kildare and Limerick. There was an ongoing case between Geoffrey de Camville and George de la Roche, which the king requested be speedily dealt with by the justices of the Dublin bench in 1304 (TNA, SC1/12/157). Nicholas de Carew, John de Carew’s father, held the barony of Idrone in Co. Carlow for five knights’ fees (CIPM, iv. no. 434; E. St John Brooks, Knights’ Fees in Counties Carlow, Wexford and Kilkenny (Dublin, 1950), 60–2). Despite a career which took him to France in the entourage of Aymer de Valence, sent to negotiate a marriage treaty for Edward I in 1299, and to Scotland where he served as constable of Bothwell castle (Strathclyde) for Aymer in 1302, Nicholas spent up to seven years in Ireland between 1278 and 1305 (CPR, 1292–1301, 399, 420, 444; J.R.S. Phillips, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke 1307–1324: Baronial Politics in the Reign of Edward II (Oxford, 1972), 23, 293; CDI, 1252–84, nos 1441, 2355–6; CDI, 1285–92, nos 430, 687, 1065; CDI, 1302–7, no. 398; CPR, 1307–13, 142; CPR, 1317–21, 143). 84 This marriage had increased John’s holdings in Ireland, but had increased his holdings in England even further. An inquisition post mortem of 1282 valued William de Mohun’s Irish lands at £81 3s 7d, accounting for some thirty-two per cent of his total landed income (TNA, C133/30/8; CIPM, ii. no. 436). 85 CPR, 1307–13¸ 66, 339; CCR, 1307–13, 205; CPR, 1313–17, 49, 123, 299, 317, 319, 406, 471, 505, 529, 593, 597, 679, 689, 693; CCR, 1313–18, 395. 86 Administration of Ireland, 128. 87 The de Erleys’ lands comprised three-quarters of a knight’s fee in Earlstown and Coyllagh, Co. Kilkenny (Brooks, Knights’ Fees, 243) and various lands in Somerset held, amongst other things, by the service of two knights’ fees (CIPM, vi. no. 505).

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attorneys for his Irish lands between 1299 and 1316, there is no concrete evidence that he ever visited these lands; the family name, for example, does not occur among the records generated by the royal courts in Ireland in this period. John was more active in the king’s service elsewhere, campaigning in Scotland in 1299 and at least finding a knight to serve at his cost in Gascony in 1297.88 Nevertheless, despite his relative lack of interest in his Irish lands, his son, John, does seems to have been resident on the family lands in Kilkenny in the early 1320s.89 Of the fifteen lords summoned to defend the lordship of Ireland in person in 1317, only three appear to have never visited the lordship of Ireland. John de St Amand had arranged to marry Margaret, the daughter of Hugh Despenser the elder, in 1313, and in 1315 the land promised to Margaret in England and Ireland was delivered.90 Marriage into the family of a royal favourite clearly had its advantages as less than a month after the issue of the 1317 summons the Dublin government was instructed that John’s manor of Gormanston, and all his possessions there, had been taken into royal protection for one year.91 John’s ancestors had, however, taken a more active interest in their Irish lands, and his descendant, Amaury was to act as justiciar of the lordship in 1357–9.92 William de Grandison, despite the distinction made between him and his ‘alien’ brother Otto, was effectively an absentee from his Irish lands; and William de la Zouche of Harringworth continued a tradition of management of his Irish lands which he had inherited from his mother, Milicent de Montalt – dealing with his interests there entirely through the use of attorneys.93 Nevertheless, the ‘absenteeism’ of certain families may be more apparent than real. Royal grants of protection and attorneys are often critical evidence in establishing whether an individual lord journeyed to Ireland or not; and the absence of such grants may lead to the incorrect conclusion that such individuals did not visit their Irish lands. To argue thus from a lack of evidence is to state that John de Erley’s father, Henry de Erley, never visited his Irish lands. This would be surprising given the prominence of the de Erleys in Ireland as servants of the Marshals. It is perhaps more likely that Henry de Erley did visit the lordship but without paying for a grant of attorneys or protection, in which scenario no trace of a journey to Ireland would remain in the chancery rolls, or that the grant, or reference to it, no longer survives. Either scenario helps to explain why relatively obscure families and individuals of the time remain obscure to historians. Obscurity is not the same as absenteeism. As we have seen, not all the lords summoned in 1317 were even absent from their lands, let alone absentees. Similarly, not all the lords who were absent from their Irish lands, or even those who were habitually absent, were included in the summons. The most obvious omission from the list was Aymer de Valence, earl of Pembroke and lord of Wexford in Leinster. If ‘prominent absentees’ were the target of the summons, the omission of Aymer, but the inclusion of John de Erley, who held only three-quarters of a knight’s fee in Ireland, as well as the obscure ‘William

88 89 90 91

CCR, 1296–1302, 32, 44; CCR, 1302–7, 360. Frame, English Lordship, 62. CAD, iv. 525; CPR, 1313–17, 265. CPR, 1313–17, 618. In July 1317 John was granted the right to hold markets and fairs at his main English manors (CChR, 1300–26, 359). 92 Administration of Ireland, 89. 93 CDI, 1252–84, nos 1122, 1659, 1915, 1917, 2157, 2211; CDI, 1285–92, no. 492; CDI, 1293–1301, nos 287, 482–3, 558; CPR, 1307–13, 60, 353; CPR 1317–21, 46.

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de Fienles’, seems incredible.94 There is no evidence that Aymer ever visited his Irish lands.95 To some extent the pressure was off Aymer as he had a semiautonomous estate administration at Wexford which dealt with his Irish affairs. His absence from the summons of 1317, however, was certainly connected with his employment as a royal ambassador to Avignon, the embassy departing in January 1317.96 With his substantial French lands, Aymer’s use to Edward II as a high ranking diplomat was rated higher than his duty to defend his lands in Ireland. Aymer was not available to journey to Ireland, irrespective of his attitude to his landed interests there. This again suggests that the rationale behind the 1317 summons was not based on a developed concept of absenteeism. Despite the clause allowing lords to send substitutes, the hope may well have been that lords would go in person and provide the leadership necessary for the repulsion of the Scots.97 This hope, if it existed, would not have been futile, for it was not only certain of the lords named in the 1317 writ who journeyed to the defence of their lands. Among those who procured grants of attorneys or protection during their absence in Ireland were Henry Mortimer, a Marshal heir, who accompanied Roger Mortimer of Wigmore;98 and Richard le Constantin, lord of Kilbixy in Ireland and Bondby in Lincolnshire,99 who journeyed to Ireland prior to Roger’s mission of 1317. Such a response from Mortimer, Constantin and others presumably helped to stall the development of a fixed Anglo-Irish policy against absenteeism for a few more years.100 In fact, as this paper has sought to demonstrate, there was not a strong consciousness of general absenteeism among resident lords in the period prior to the Bruce invasion of Ireland of 1315–18. Consciousness of absenteeism as a problem did not appear overnight: it developed as a result of particular circumstances – growth of marchlands, declining government revenues and rising defence costs;101 and this consciousness continued to develop throughout the reign of Edward III. The third enactment of the Dublin Parliament of 1297 demonstrated an appreciation of the effects of absenteeism on the lordship of Ireland. This appreciation had sharpened by 1316, but against ‘aliens and foreigners’ rather than against non-resident lords with lands in Ireland in general. The so-called first summons of absentees to the defence of the lordship in 1317 was, in fact, no such thing.102 A strong general 94

I have found no reference to a William de Fienles holding lands in Ireland in this period. He may have been a son of Margaret de Fiennes, the wife of Edmund Mortimer of Dunamase, and the mother of Roger Mortimer, king’s lieutenant of Ireland. 95 On 1 August 1316 ‘the messenger of the Lord Adomar de Valencia, [was paid] 40s, by his own hands, for certain news which he brought to the King from the said Lord Adomar from Ireland’ (Pell Records. Issues of the Exchequer from King Henry III to King Henry VI, ed. Frederick Devon (London, 1837), 127). This messenger most probably first journeyed from Ireland to Aymer and was then sent to the king since Aymer was to be found almost exclusively in London or Westminster during June and July 1316 (Phillips, Aymer de Valence, 328). 96 Phillips, Aymer de Valence, 110–11. 97 Thomas de Brotherton, the earl of Norfolk and lord of Carlow, may have been ordered to send a force of arms, rather than to attend to the defence of his lands in person, as much for the fact that he was under age as for the protection from the summons which he undoubtedly received from his half-brother Edward II. He may have responded to the 1331 summons by which time he was more politically active. 98 Dryburgh, ‘Mortimer’, 181. 99 CPR, 1313–17, 526. Richard was already in Ireland in August 1316. 100 Other men also travelled to Ireland in response to the Bruce invasion; see, for example, CPR 1313–17, 122, 333, 456; CPR, 1313–17, 457–8, 618–19, 642; CPR, 1317–21, 2; CDI, 1252–84, nos 1618, 2297. 101 Frame, ‘Absenteeism’, 2. 102 The summons is referred to in this way in J.R.S. Phillips, ‘The Anglo-Norman Nobility’, in J.F. Lydon, ed., The English in Medieval Ireland (Dublin, 1984), 87–104, esp. 99; Dryburgh, ‘Mortimer’, 55.

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consciousness of absenteeism as a problem appears to have been pushed backwards from the 1360s into the long thirteenth century by historians. The medieval population of the British Isles did not have the words ‘absentee’ or ‘absenteeism’ – in medieval Latin a man could be absent or absent himself, and his absence could be noted upon – and yet there is no doubt that the concept of absenteeism existed in mid-fourteenth-century Ireland. It is this that has led modern historians to use ‘absentee’ and ‘absenteeism’ to describe the English lords who held lands in Ireland in the Middle Ages and their attitudes towards those lands. In this respect, hindsight may not be 20/20, for historians not only have to view the criticisms of the Dublin government in the knowledge that the absence of such English landholders from the lordship ultimately weakened it fundamentally, but with the more recent criticisms of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century absentees ringing in their ears. Indeed, it is worth asking whether ‘absentee’ is an appropriate term to use in a medieval context at all given its modern meaning. Whilst, to my knowledge, it is only Irish histories which regularly list ‘absenteeism’ in their indexes, historians of other countries use the term as well. Thus, we can read that the Marshals were ‘absentee landlords’ in their French lands between 1204 and 1220;103 or that thirteenth-century Anglo-Scottish lords who did not exercise personal lordship were ‘effectively absentees’.104 Possibly, non-resident, a term carrying far less historical baggage, would be a suitable alternative to ‘absentee’ – it would certainly be much closer to the non-morantur of the English and Anglo-Irish sources.

103

Daniel Power, ‘The French Interests of the Marshal Earls of Striguil and Pembroke, 1189–1234’, in ANS, xxv (2003), 199–225, esp. 211. 104 K.J. Stringer, Earl David of Huntingdon 1152–1219: A Study in Anglo-Scottish History (Edinburgh, 1985), 203.