David Pilling's Blog, page 29
April 11, 2020
You have sung well
Following on from yesterday’s post. In 1296 the Bruces supported Edward I’s invasion of Scotland, in the hope that he would put a Bruce on the throne after King John Balliol had been given the Alan Sugar treatment (you’re fired etc).
According to John Fordun, Edward changed his plans due to the influence of Antony Bek, the fighty Bishop of Durham. Fordun recites an exchange between the two:
“If Robert de Bruce were king of Scotland [said Bek], where would Edward, king of England, be? For this Robert is of the noblest stock of all England, and, with him, the kingdom of Scotland is very strong in itself; and, in times gone by, a great deal of mischief has been wrought to the kings of England by those of Scotland.”
Edward answered: “Par le sank Dieu! vous aves bun chante” [“By Christ’s blood” You have sung well. I will change my plans.”]
Fordun has to be taken with a pinch of salt: he was writing much later (1380s) and had little good to say of Edward. Yet his reported dialogue has a touch of veracity, especially Edward’s reply in Norman-French. The Bruce in question was not the victor of Bannockburn, but his grandfather, also known as The Competitor. Edward knew him well: they had fought together against Simon de Montfort in England and in the Holy Land.
Everything we know about the Competitor suggests a devious and forceful character, not the sort of man any king would want for a rival. Yet, If Edward had ignored Bek’s advice and planted the Competitor on the Scottish throne, perhaps things wouldn’t have unravelled quite so spectacularly as they did.
According to John Fordun, Edward changed his plans due to the influence of Antony Bek, the fighty Bishop of Durham. Fordun recites an exchange between the two:
“If Robert de Bruce were king of Scotland [said Bek], where would Edward, king of England, be? For this Robert is of the noblest stock of all England, and, with him, the kingdom of Scotland is very strong in itself; and, in times gone by, a great deal of mischief has been wrought to the kings of England by those of Scotland.”
Edward answered: “Par le sank Dieu! vous aves bun chante” [“By Christ’s blood” You have sung well. I will change my plans.”]
Fordun has to be taken with a pinch of salt: he was writing much later (1380s) and had little good to say of Edward. Yet his reported dialogue has a touch of veracity, especially Edward’s reply in Norman-French. The Bruce in question was not the victor of Bannockburn, but his grandfather, also known as The Competitor. Edward knew him well: they had fought together against Simon de Montfort in England and in the Holy Land.
Everything we know about the Competitor suggests a devious and forceful character, not the sort of man any king would want for a rival. Yet, If Edward had ignored Bek’s advice and planted the Competitor on the Scottish throne, perhaps things wouldn’t have unravelled quite so spectacularly as they did.
April 10, 2020
Stick to thy mass, bishop!
The spring of 1296 witnesses two important sieges in Scotland and Gascony. On Easter Monday (26 March) the Scots descend upon Carlisle, the gateway to northwest England. Here the garrison is commanded by Sir William Keith, a knight in the retinue of Robert de Bruce, Earl of Carrick. At this stage the Bruces are fighting for Edward I, in the vain hope that he will put a Bruce on the Scottish throne after deposing John Balliol.
Carlisle castle
Nicholas Trivet, a Dominican friar, supplies a vivid account of the siege:
“Therefore, with the king spending the solemnity of Easter at the aforesaid castle, seven earls of Scotland, namely the earls of Bowan, Meneteth, Straderne, Lewenos, Ros, Athel, Mar, and John, son of John Comin of Badenau, after a strong army had been gathered in the valley of Anandia, on the second feast day of Easter entered England, and were laying waste to everything by slaughter and burning, not sparing age or sex; and coming to Carlisle, they surrounded the same city with a siege. Moroever, after they had burnt the suburbs, they heaped up combustible things at the gate of the city, and a certain noble of Galwidia, while he was approaching the gate of the city, was dragged by an iron hook by the men, who were upon the gate, and was killed after he had been stabbed by lances. Indeed, a certain spy, who had been detained in the prison of the city, when he had heard about the arrival of these men, set fire to the prison, the fire of which was carried down by the force of the wind onto other houses, and a great part of the city was burnt. However, men and women, running together to the walls, propelled the Scots from the walls with stones and missiles, manfully defending the city. The Scots, seeing that they were not making progress, gave up the siege on the fourth feast day and returned to Scotland.”
In Gascony, a few days later, the French lay siege to Bourg on the Gironde. If the town falls, English power in northern Gascony will collapse. The French throw everything at Bourg: surviving accounts show payments for stones purchased from local stone-cutters, and for a siege engine dragged up to the site. Meanwhile a French fleet blockades the Gironde to prevent supplies getting through. The large sum of 23, 141 livres tournois is spent on this operation.
The blockade fails. Barran Sescar, a Bayonnais privateer in charge of the Anglo-Gascon fleet, smashes through the line of French warships and delivers a constant flow of victuals from England: corn, hay, beans, bacon, stockfish, everything the defenders require.
King Edward’s resources are strained on all fronts, not least in terms of manpower. One of the English captains serving in northern Gascony is Ralph Basset of Drayton, a lord of the Welsh Marches. He was one of those present at the death of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd in 1282, and his military record shows how Edward I’s fighting men were dragged about all over the place. Ralph will be recalled to fight at Falkirk in 1298, where he delivers a crushing putdown to Antony Bek, the fighting bishop of Durham:
“Stick to thy mass, bishop, and don’t teach us the art of war!”
Carlisle castleNicholas Trivet, a Dominican friar, supplies a vivid account of the siege:
“Therefore, with the king spending the solemnity of Easter at the aforesaid castle, seven earls of Scotland, namely the earls of Bowan, Meneteth, Straderne, Lewenos, Ros, Athel, Mar, and John, son of John Comin of Badenau, after a strong army had been gathered in the valley of Anandia, on the second feast day of Easter entered England, and were laying waste to everything by slaughter and burning, not sparing age or sex; and coming to Carlisle, they surrounded the same city with a siege. Moroever, after they had burnt the suburbs, they heaped up combustible things at the gate of the city, and a certain noble of Galwidia, while he was approaching the gate of the city, was dragged by an iron hook by the men, who were upon the gate, and was killed after he had been stabbed by lances. Indeed, a certain spy, who had been detained in the prison of the city, when he had heard about the arrival of these men, set fire to the prison, the fire of which was carried down by the force of the wind onto other houses, and a great part of the city was burnt. However, men and women, running together to the walls, propelled the Scots from the walls with stones and missiles, manfully defending the city. The Scots, seeing that they were not making progress, gave up the siege on the fourth feast day and returned to Scotland.”
In Gascony, a few days later, the French lay siege to Bourg on the Gironde. If the town falls, English power in northern Gascony will collapse. The French throw everything at Bourg: surviving accounts show payments for stones purchased from local stone-cutters, and for a siege engine dragged up to the site. Meanwhile a French fleet blockades the Gironde to prevent supplies getting through. The large sum of 23, 141 livres tournois is spent on this operation.
The blockade fails. Barran Sescar, a Bayonnais privateer in charge of the Anglo-Gascon fleet, smashes through the line of French warships and delivers a constant flow of victuals from England: corn, hay, beans, bacon, stockfish, everything the defenders require.
King Edward’s resources are strained on all fronts, not least in terms of manpower. One of the English captains serving in northern Gascony is Ralph Basset of Drayton, a lord of the Welsh Marches. He was one of those present at the death of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd in 1282, and his military record shows how Edward I’s fighting men were dragged about all over the place. Ralph will be recalled to fight at Falkirk in 1298, where he delivers a crushing putdown to Antony Bek, the fighting bishop of Durham:
“Stick to thy mass, bishop, and don’t teach us the art of war!”
April 5, 2020
The banners of the king
5th April is the anniversary of the Battle of Northampton in 1264, where Henry III defeated Simon de Montfort junior.
Henry had summoned the feudal host on 6 March to campaign (so he said) against the Welsh. He soon dropped this pretence and further summons on 18 March made it clear he meant to fight the Montfortians. In early April the king formally declared war by raising his dragon standard, a splendidly decorated banner with jewelled eyes and a tongue that seemed to ‘flicker in and out as the breeze caught the banner, and its eyes of sapphire and other gems flashing in the light’.
The royal host marched on Northampton, the key to control of the midlands. On sunrise on Saturday the 5th, the royal army advanced over the water meadows to attack the town from the west and southwest. They were driven on by a choir of monks singing “Vexilla Regis prodeunt”, a Latin hymn composed by a 6th century bishop of Poitiers. The first verse translates as:
“The banners of the king issue forth,
The mystery of the cross does gleam,
Where the creator of the flesh, in the flesh,
By the cross-bar is hung."
The royalist infantry, armed with ladders and hurdles, attacked the south gate. Meanwhile a flanking force led by Philip Basset and the Lord Edward made a detour to the southwest. They quickly opened a breach in the wall of the garden of St Andrew’s Priory, and there is some suspicion that the prior had been bribed to undermine the wall: certainly, he was later suspended from office by Simon de Montfort.
As royalist soldiers poured through the breach, just two men stood in their way. This was Simon junior himself and his squire, Ingram Balliol. Simon twice threw back the infantry - showing what an armoured knight could do against footsoldiers - but then lost control of his horse. Driven mad by the slashing of spurs, the beast galloped forward and flung Simon headlong into the ditch. His life was saved by Edward, who prevented royalist soldiers from dragging the stunned knight out of the ditch and shoving a knife through his visor.
Simon’s capture tore the heart out of the resistance. The walls were abandoned as the defenders threw down their weapons and fled to safety. King Henry’s men set about taking prisoners and plundering the town; a businesslike process in which little blood was spilled. Between 55-100 Montfortian knights were captured, a bitter blow to Simon senior’s cause.
Henry had summoned the feudal host on 6 March to campaign (so he said) against the Welsh. He soon dropped this pretence and further summons on 18 March made it clear he meant to fight the Montfortians. In early April the king formally declared war by raising his dragon standard, a splendidly decorated banner with jewelled eyes and a tongue that seemed to ‘flicker in and out as the breeze caught the banner, and its eyes of sapphire and other gems flashing in the light’.
The royal host marched on Northampton, the key to control of the midlands. On sunrise on Saturday the 5th, the royal army advanced over the water meadows to attack the town from the west and southwest. They were driven on by a choir of monks singing “Vexilla Regis prodeunt”, a Latin hymn composed by a 6th century bishop of Poitiers. The first verse translates as:
“The banners of the king issue forth,
The mystery of the cross does gleam,
Where the creator of the flesh, in the flesh,
By the cross-bar is hung."
The royalist infantry, armed with ladders and hurdles, attacked the south gate. Meanwhile a flanking force led by Philip Basset and the Lord Edward made a detour to the southwest. They quickly opened a breach in the wall of the garden of St Andrew’s Priory, and there is some suspicion that the prior had been bribed to undermine the wall: certainly, he was later suspended from office by Simon de Montfort.
As royalist soldiers poured through the breach, just two men stood in their way. This was Simon junior himself and his squire, Ingram Balliol. Simon twice threw back the infantry - showing what an armoured knight could do against footsoldiers - but then lost control of his horse. Driven mad by the slashing of spurs, the beast galloped forward and flung Simon headlong into the ditch. His life was saved by Edward, who prevented royalist soldiers from dragging the stunned knight out of the ditch and shoving a knife through his visor.
Simon’s capture tore the heart out of the resistance. The walls were abandoned as the defenders threw down their weapons and fled to safety. King Henry’s men set about taking prisoners and plundering the town; a businesslike process in which little blood was spilled. Between 55-100 Montfortian knights were captured, a bitter blow to Simon senior’s cause.
April 4, 2020
Dastardly invasions
Part of an idea I have for a (nonfiction) book, showing how wars are not isolated events.
As every fule nose, in March-April 1296 the armies of Edward I overran the lowlands of Scotland. What is sometimes not appreciated is that this was part of a much wider conflict, and that Edward’s dastardly invasion took place at the same time as an equally dastardly French invasion of Plantagenet Gascony. If we’re talking moralism and the right to autonomy, then a medieval Gascon had just as much right to these things as a medieval Scot. But might makes right…
In April 1296 Robert II of Artois was appointed the French lieutenant in Gascony and the duchy of Aquitaine. He was given extensive powers by Philip le Bel to act ‘as if the king were personally present’. He was to issue pardons, negotiate alliances and truces, conclude ‘paréages’ (a form of land transaction), inspect garrisons and fortresses, instigate inquiries into the crimes of royal officials and confer knighthood. Robert was also to take homages, fealties and oaths from all those living in the lands ‘which the king of England was wont to hold within our kingdom’. Edward had been treated by Philip in exactly the same way as Edward treated John Balliol, all part of the vicious merry-go-round of medieval politics.
Robert was effectively appointed as Philip’s viceroy in Gascony, a territory which the French had laid claim to via perfectly illegal means: this was an even more naked power grab than the invasion of Scotland, but who cared so long as you got away with it? At the start of April, just a day or two after the sack of Berwick in Scotland, Robert took an army of Artesian and other northern French troops into Gascony. On the 28, the same day as Edward arrived at Dunbar, he had reached Angouleme. Here he summoned nobles of the surrounding region for two months’ service in the host, before moving on to Périgord.
As every fule nose, in March-April 1296 the armies of Edward I overran the lowlands of Scotland. What is sometimes not appreciated is that this was part of a much wider conflict, and that Edward’s dastardly invasion took place at the same time as an equally dastardly French invasion of Plantagenet Gascony. If we’re talking moralism and the right to autonomy, then a medieval Gascon had just as much right to these things as a medieval Scot. But might makes right…
In April 1296 Robert II of Artois was appointed the French lieutenant in Gascony and the duchy of Aquitaine. He was given extensive powers by Philip le Bel to act ‘as if the king were personally present’. He was to issue pardons, negotiate alliances and truces, conclude ‘paréages’ (a form of land transaction), inspect garrisons and fortresses, instigate inquiries into the crimes of royal officials and confer knighthood. Robert was also to take homages, fealties and oaths from all those living in the lands ‘which the king of England was wont to hold within our kingdom’. Edward had been treated by Philip in exactly the same way as Edward treated John Balliol, all part of the vicious merry-go-round of medieval politics.
Robert was effectively appointed as Philip’s viceroy in Gascony, a territory which the French had laid claim to via perfectly illegal means: this was an even more naked power grab than the invasion of Scotland, but who cared so long as you got away with it? At the start of April, just a day or two after the sack of Berwick in Scotland, Robert took an army of Artesian and other northern French troops into Gascony. On the 28, the same day as Edward arrived at Dunbar, he had reached Angouleme. Here he summoned nobles of the surrounding region for two months’ service in the host, before moving on to Périgord.
March 31, 2020
Book release!
My new (nonfiction) book, REBELLION AGAINST HENRY III: THE DISINHERITED MONTFORTIANS 1265-1274 is now available on hardback! See the link below to Amazon for purchase - soft cover and ebook versions to follow...
Rebellion against Henry III on Amazon
"The 'Montfortian' civil wars in England lasted from 1259-67, though the death of Simon de Montfort and so many of his followers at the battle of Evesham in 1265 ought to have ended the conflict. In the aftermath of the battle, Henry III's decision to disinherit all the surviving Montfortians served to prolong the war for another two years. Hundreds of landless men took up arms again to defend their land and property: the redistribution of estates in the wake of Evesham occurred on a massive scale, as lands were either granted away by the king or simply taken by his supporters.
The Disinherited, as they were known, defied the might of the Crown longer than anyone could have reasonably expected. They were scattered, outnumbered and out-resourced, with no real unifying figure after the death of Earl Simon, and suffered a number of heavy defeats. Despite all their problems and setbacks, they succeeded in forcing the king into a compromise. The Dictum of Kenilworth, published in 1266, acknowledged that Henry could not hope to defeat the Disinherited via military force alone.
The purely military aspects of the revolt, including effective use of guerilla-type warfare and major actions such as the battle of Chesterfield, the siege of Kenilworth and the capture of London, will all be featured. Charismatic rebel leaders such as Robert de Ferrers, the 'wild and flighty' Earl of Derby, Sir John de Eyvill, 'the bold D'Eyvill' and others such as Sir Adam de Gurdon, David of Uffington and Baldwin Wake all receive a proper appraisal..."
Rebellion against Henry III on Amazon
"The 'Montfortian' civil wars in England lasted from 1259-67, though the death of Simon de Montfort and so many of his followers at the battle of Evesham in 1265 ought to have ended the conflict. In the aftermath of the battle, Henry III's decision to disinherit all the surviving Montfortians served to prolong the war for another two years. Hundreds of landless men took up arms again to defend their land and property: the redistribution of estates in the wake of Evesham occurred on a massive scale, as lands were either granted away by the king or simply taken by his supporters.
The Disinherited, as they were known, defied the might of the Crown longer than anyone could have reasonably expected. They were scattered, outnumbered and out-resourced, with no real unifying figure after the death of Earl Simon, and suffered a number of heavy defeats. Despite all their problems and setbacks, they succeeded in forcing the king into a compromise. The Dictum of Kenilworth, published in 1266, acknowledged that Henry could not hope to defeat the Disinherited via military force alone.
The purely military aspects of the revolt, including effective use of guerilla-type warfare and major actions such as the battle of Chesterfield, the siege of Kenilworth and the capture of London, will all be featured. Charismatic rebel leaders such as Robert de Ferrers, the 'wild and flighty' Earl of Derby, Sir John de Eyvill, 'the bold D'Eyvill' and others such as Sir Adam de Gurdon, David of Uffington and Baldwin Wake all receive a proper appraisal..."
March 30, 2020
To win the dyke
30 March is the anniversary of the sack of Berwick by Edward I in 1296. The popular image is of a frighful massacre, in which most of the citizenry were exterminated by the king’s Irish and Welsh infantry. What really happened is very difficult to know: surviving petitions show that some of the citizens were still alive afterwards, but a town put to the sack in the medieval era would have been handled very roughly indeed. The Scots did similar things at places like Hexham and Corbridge in northern England and Dundalk in Ireland.
One account of the sack, in an addition to the chronicle of Robert of Gloucester, appears to be the earliest mention of Edward’s nickname of Longshanks. When Edward demanded the town’s surrender, the citizens are said to have bared their buttocks at him (shades of Braveheart) and sang the following jingle:
“What wenith King Edward with his lang shanks,
To win Berwick with all our unthanks,
Gaes pike him,
And when he has hit, Gaes dyke him.”
Some of the citizenry then attacked the king’s ships on the Tweed, slaughtering the crews. Incensed, Edward signalled the attack and led his cavalry in person:
“What then did Sir Edward?
Peer he had none like;
Upon his steed Bayard he first won the dyke.”
Berwick-upon-Tweed
What followed was undeniably gruesome, as the ill-defended town was stormed in a couple of hours. By the rules of war, the burgesses of Berwick had sacrificed any right to mercy by refusing to surrender. The actual scale of the slaughter can reasonably be doubted: Earl Warenne, for instance, found time and leisure to go shopping for bread in the town on the same day, which implies that the sack was bloody but brief.
One account of the sack, in an addition to the chronicle of Robert of Gloucester, appears to be the earliest mention of Edward’s nickname of Longshanks. When Edward demanded the town’s surrender, the citizens are said to have bared their buttocks at him (shades of Braveheart) and sang the following jingle:
“What wenith King Edward with his lang shanks,
To win Berwick with all our unthanks,
Gaes pike him,
And when he has hit, Gaes dyke him.”
Some of the citizenry then attacked the king’s ships on the Tweed, slaughtering the crews. Incensed, Edward signalled the attack and led his cavalry in person:
“What then did Sir Edward?
Peer he had none like;
Upon his steed Bayard he first won the dyke.”
Berwick-upon-TweedWhat followed was undeniably gruesome, as the ill-defended town was stormed in a couple of hours. By the rules of war, the burgesses of Berwick had sacrificed any right to mercy by refusing to surrender. The actual scale of the slaughter can reasonably be doubted: Earl Warenne, for instance, found time and leisure to go shopping for bread in the town on the same day, which implies that the sack was bloody but brief.
March 29, 2020
A notorious freebooter
More from the new book.
In 1278 Gilbert Umfraville, Earl of Angus, was indicted on a number of charges. These included giving aid and shelter to one Walter Denyas, a notorious robber, and his fellows in the earl’s castles at Prudhoe and Harbottle. Umfraville allegedly took £40 from Walter in exchange for protection, and appointed one Alexander of Kesterne as Walter’s ‘conductor’.
Walter Denyas was one of the most notorious outlaws of the age. He was originally from the midlands, a tenant of Earl Ferrers, and together with Roger Godberd had waged a campaign of terror and destruction in the counties of Nottingham, Derby and Leicester. His most notorious deed was the murder of William Fuiz the chaplain, a monk of Stanley Abbey in Wiltshire.
In 1266 Henry III set up the Dictum of Kenilworth, whereby rebels and outlaws such as Walter were allowed back into the king’s peace on payment of a fine. Walter had to wait another three years for his pardon. He owed it to the influence of the Lord Edward, who persuaded his father to forgive Walter for the death of the monk.
Walter went straight back to a life of crime. Like many an English outlaw in a later age, he found his way up to the Anglo-Scots border and ran with the ‘free lances’ of Redesdale, a valley in western Northumberland. The earl of Angus used the men of Redesdale as hired muscle: for instance, when he paid them to break into the house of William Douglas of Fawdon and mutilate his son.
Walter evaded the law for another three years. In 1272 he was run to earth by the king’s officers and met with the rusty axe of justice. According to the chronicle of Walter of Newburgh:
“Interea quidam maleficus, nomine Walter Devias, ducens exercitum aliquando equitum, quandoque peditum, et manifesta exercens latrocinia in villis, civitatibus et burgis ac religiosis et aliis multis infestus, tandem cum pluribus ex complicibus suis captus est et decollatus.”
(Walter Devias, a freebooter, is caught and executed)
In 1278 Gilbert Umfraville, Earl of Angus, was indicted on a number of charges. These included giving aid and shelter to one Walter Denyas, a notorious robber, and his fellows in the earl’s castles at Prudhoe and Harbottle. Umfraville allegedly took £40 from Walter in exchange for protection, and appointed one Alexander of Kesterne as Walter’s ‘conductor’.
Walter Denyas was one of the most notorious outlaws of the age. He was originally from the midlands, a tenant of Earl Ferrers, and together with Roger Godberd had waged a campaign of terror and destruction in the counties of Nottingham, Derby and Leicester. His most notorious deed was the murder of William Fuiz the chaplain, a monk of Stanley Abbey in Wiltshire.
In 1266 Henry III set up the Dictum of Kenilworth, whereby rebels and outlaws such as Walter were allowed back into the king’s peace on payment of a fine. Walter had to wait another three years for his pardon. He owed it to the influence of the Lord Edward, who persuaded his father to forgive Walter for the death of the monk.
Walter went straight back to a life of crime. Like many an English outlaw in a later age, he found his way up to the Anglo-Scots border and ran with the ‘free lances’ of Redesdale, a valley in western Northumberland. The earl of Angus used the men of Redesdale as hired muscle: for instance, when he paid them to break into the house of William Douglas of Fawdon and mutilate his son.
Walter evaded the law for another three years. In 1272 he was run to earth by the king’s officers and met with the rusty axe of justice. According to the chronicle of Walter of Newburgh:
“Interea quidam maleficus, nomine Walter Devias, ducens exercitum aliquando equitum, quandoque peditum, et manifesta exercens latrocinia in villis, civitatibus et burgis ac religiosis et aliis multis infestus, tandem cum pluribus ex complicibus suis captus est et decollatus.”
(Walter Devias, a freebooter, is caught and executed)
March 28, 2020
Emnity against the king
Another snippet from my upcoming book on the Disinherited Montfortians in England.
In 1268, as part of the massive clearing-up operation after the end of the civil war, hundreds of men all over England were summoned to court to answer charges of rebellion against the king. These cases were recorded on a separate series of assize rolls, though unfortunately only those for the southern counties have survived.
One of the accused was a certain Robert Ode of Harbury in Warwickshire (see attached, above), who was accused of ‘emnity against the king’ by the jurors of the hundred of Wardon in Northamptonshire. Robert had been a member of the rebel garrison at Kenilworth, the massive stronghold in Warwickshire and chief headquarters of the Disinherited. He was accused by jurors of Northants, an entirely separate district, because Robert had led a small band of robbers out of the castle and roved all over the midlands, plundering and raiding lands belonging to the royalists. The details of what he actually got up to are recorded on yet another series of rolls: nobody could accuse the administration in England of a lack of thoroughness.
Link to the book below:
Rebellion Against Henry III on Amazon
In 1268, as part of the massive clearing-up operation after the end of the civil war, hundreds of men all over England were summoned to court to answer charges of rebellion against the king. These cases were recorded on a separate series of assize rolls, though unfortunately only those for the southern counties have survived.
One of the accused was a certain Robert Ode of Harbury in Warwickshire (see attached, above), who was accused of ‘emnity against the king’ by the jurors of the hundred of Wardon in Northamptonshire. Robert had been a member of the rebel garrison at Kenilworth, the massive stronghold in Warwickshire and chief headquarters of the Disinherited. He was accused by jurors of Northants, an entirely separate district, because Robert had led a small band of robbers out of the castle and roved all over the midlands, plundering and raiding lands belonging to the royalists. The details of what he actually got up to are recorded on yet another series of rolls: nobody could accuse the administration in England of a lack of thoroughness.
Link to the book below:
Rebellion Against Henry III on Amazon
March 27, 2020
New book alert!
Only a few days to go until the release of my book on the Disinherited in England (31 March), published by Pen & Sword.
One of the themes I explore is the possible influence of the Montfortian period on the growth of outlaw legends in England, particularly the tales of Robin Hood. As everyone knows, Robin’s chief enemy is the High Sheriff of Nottingham. As the man himself warns his merry men in one of the early ballads:
“The hye sherif of Notyingham, Hym holde ye in your mynde.”
The corruption of sheriffs was one of the chief complaints of the Montfortian movement, and found expression in the political songs of the era. One of these, The Song Against the Sheriffs, runs as follows:
“Who can tell truly
How cruel sheriffs are?
Of their hardiness to poor people
No tale can go too far.
If a man cannot pay
They drag him here and here,
They put him on assizes,
The juror’s oath to swear.
He dare not breathe a murmur,
Or he has to pay again,
And the saltness of the sea,
Is less bitter than his pain.”
This dates from the mid-1270s, a few years after the death of Simon de Montfort. When Edward I came to the throne, one of his first acts was to sack all the sheriffs in England and replace them with new men. Thus there was a direct link between popular feeling and Edward’s careful construction of an image of good kingship, based squarely on his experience of the reform period.
Link to the book on pre-order below:
Rebellion against Henry III on Amazon
One of the themes I explore is the possible influence of the Montfortian period on the growth of outlaw legends in England, particularly the tales of Robin Hood. As everyone knows, Robin’s chief enemy is the High Sheriff of Nottingham. As the man himself warns his merry men in one of the early ballads:
“The hye sherif of Notyingham, Hym holde ye in your mynde.”
The corruption of sheriffs was one of the chief complaints of the Montfortian movement, and found expression in the political songs of the era. One of these, The Song Against the Sheriffs, runs as follows:
“Who can tell truly
How cruel sheriffs are?
Of their hardiness to poor people
No tale can go too far.
If a man cannot pay
They drag him here and here,
They put him on assizes,
The juror’s oath to swear.
He dare not breathe a murmur,
Or he has to pay again,
And the saltness of the sea,
Is less bitter than his pain.”
This dates from the mid-1270s, a few years after the death of Simon de Montfort. When Edward I came to the throne, one of his first acts was to sack all the sheriffs in England and replace them with new men. Thus there was a direct link between popular feeling and Edward’s careful construction of an image of good kingship, based squarely on his experience of the reform period.
Link to the book on pre-order below:
Rebellion against Henry III on Amazon
March 22, 2020
Pointy sticks at Stirling (1)
Just for fun, and a break from 'serious' history, I take a look at a clip from one of the battle scenes in Braveheart. This is my first effort at a reaction video and it's a bit rubbish. The sound is all over the place, either because I kept moving away from the mic or some other technical reason I can't understand. It all adds to the charm, though. Definitely.
Pointy sticks at Stirling (1)
Pointy sticks at Stirling (1)
