Category Archives: medieval

Guestpost Monday: Sharon Bennett Connolly- Nicholaa de la Haye and me

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It’s a real delight to welcome Sharon Bennett Connolly to The History Jar as my first guest blogger. I love her blog, History the Interesting Bits and her books. Those of you who have attended my medieval classes will probably have at least one of her books on your own shelves including Heroines of the Medieval World and Ladies of the Magna Carta. I recently posted on History the Interesting Bits (https://historytheinterestingbits.com/2023/10/07/guest-post-the-kingmakers-women-by-julia-a-hickey/) and it turns out that we may have a bit of a mutual appreciation society going on which leaves me feeling very honoured as really do admire the way that Sharon has drawn women previously left to languish in the footnotes into the limelight. So without further ado over to Sharon…

Well, it has been quite a journey, but King John’s Right Hand Lady, my biography of Nicholaa de la Haye is now out in the world. My journey with Nicholaa started with a blog post in 2015, shortly after a day trip to Lincoln Castle with my son. Nicholaa’s story really caught my attention. From that day on, I devoured everything I could find on Nicholaa, scouring the internet for details of her life and the events in which she was involved. I bought a copy of Louise Wilkinson’s excellent study, Women in Thirteenth Century Lincolnshire, which included Nicholaa’s story. And when I started thinking about writing a book, Nicholaa came to mind. In 2016, I entered a competition with a publisher, to have my first book published and Nicholaa was one of the inspirations. 

In Heroines of the Medieval World, I wanted to tell the stories of the most incredible women in medieval history and Nicholaa was certainly in my Top 10. And from that book, I started thinking that there was more scope to examine the women related to the Magna Carta story, especially Nicholaa and her contemporary,  Matilda de Braose. The conflicting lives and experiences of these two women inspired Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England; while Matilda became King John’s bitter enemy and ultimate victim, Nicholaa was a loyal ally, trusted to hold Lincoln Castle against the rebel barons, despite being a woman. 

As I was researching Nicholaa’s story for Ladies of Magna Carta, I got very excited as I realised that I may have enough material for a full biography. I contacted my editor, expecting her to shut me down and say ‘no thanks, no one will be interested.’ But, instead, she said ‘go for it!’ And the project was born.

Nicholaa’s career spanned sixty years, four kings and two husbands and, in a time when men fought and women stayed home, Nicholaa de la Haye held Lincoln Castle against all-comers. In 1191, 1216 and 1217, it was Nicholaa who defended the besieged castle, earning herself the ironic praise that she acted ‘manfully’. Nicholaa gained prominence in the First Baron’s War, the civil war that followed the sealing of Magna Carta in 1215. 

On one of King John’s visits to inspect Lincoln’s defences in 1216, a recently-widowed Nicholaa met him at the gates and presented the king with the keys to the castle, claiming she was too old and weary to continue in her duties. John refused to accept her resignation, instructing Nicholaa to keep hold of the castle until he ordered otherwise. Whether Nicholaa ever intended to give up Lincoln, or the event was staged so that John could demonstrate his continued trust in Nicholaa, is open to debate. I suspect it was the latter. John was in the midst of civil war and running short of allies. Nicholaa had already demonstrated her abilities at defending Lincoln, and her loyalty to John – he would have been hard put to replace her. However, the event gave John the opportunity to reinforce his trust in Nicholaa in front of his barons.

Intent on continuing the civil war, the rebel barons invited the king of France to take the throne of England. The king refused, but his son, Louis (the future Louis VIII), accepted the offer and was hailed as King of England in London in June 1216.

That summer, Nicholaa prevented another siege of Lincoln Castle by paying off a rebel army, led by Gilbert de Gant, who remained in occupation of the city of Lincoln but lifted the siege of the castle. As Louis consolidated his position in the south, John fell desperately ill, probably from dysentery and halted at Newark Castle, where he died on the night of 18/19 October 1216. King John valued her so much that, from his deathbed, he appointed her sheriff of Lincolnshire; Nicholaa was the first woman ever to be appointed as a county sheriff.

Shortly after John’s death, the rebels returned to Lincoln.

Although now her 60s, Nicholaa endured a siege that lasted close to seven months, resisting the English rebel barons and their French allies with all she had, and giving the regents for the new king, nine-year-old Henry III, time to gather their forces and come to her aid. 

The siege ended in the Battle of Lincoln, also known as the Lincoln Fair, when 70-year-old William Marshal, known to history the Greatest Knight, spurred on by the chivalrous need to rescue a lady in distress – and to send the French packing – marched on Lincoln. The six-hour battle, fought in the tightly packed medieval streets of the city of Lincoln, was the turning point in the war. Within months of Marshal’s victory, the French had gone home, and the English rebels were swearing allegiance to Henry III.

The French chronicler Anonymous of Bethune described Nicholaa as ‘a very cunning, bad-hearted and vigorous old woman.’ Perhaps they were sore losers!

And how was Nicholaa thanked for such a stalwart defence of Lincoln Castle? Within four days of the battle her office as sheriff of Lincolnshire was given to William Longspée, Earl of Salisbury – the king’s uncle. Salisbury then seized the castle, evicting Nicholaa. Why? Because Salisbury’s son was married to Nicholaa’s granddaughter and the earl thought he should control the young couple’s inheritance. Did he really think Nicholaa would give up without a fight? Did he think seven months of siege had taken the fight out of her?

He should have known better.

Nicholaa appealed to the king and the privy council and got herself reinstated as constable of Lincoln Castle. She never got to be sheriff of Lincolnshire again, but at least she got her castle back. Not that Salisbury was one to give up either and there are various instances throughout the early 1220s of Salisbury trying to take the castle, through siege, subterfuge and persuasion. He tried everything! But Nicholaa would not give up – Salisbury would die first, which he did! And three months after Salisbury’s death, Nicholaa finally retired, resigning her custody of Lincoln Castle and settling on her manor at Swaton, Lincolnshire, where she died in 1230. She was buried in the local church, St Michael’s, where her tomb can still be seen today.

Nicholaa de la Haye was a staunch supporter of King John, remaining loyal to the very end, even after most of his knights and barons had deserted him. And I wanted to know why. Why did Nicholaa support John? Why did she not rebel like the rest of them? She must have known how heavy-handed and brutal John could be. She must have known the dreadful fate of Matilda de Braose – starved to death in one of John’s dungeons. So, what made her stay loyal?

To both King John and Henry III, she was ‘our beloved and faithful Nicholaa de la Haye.’

A truly remarkable lady, Nicholaa was the first woman to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Her strength and tenacity saved England at one of the lowest points in its history. 

It is often said that the best thing John ever did was die when he did. 

No. 

The best thing he ever did was appoint Nicholaa as sheriff!

Nicholaa de la Haye is one woman in English history whose story needs to be told…

About the book:

King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye by Sharon Bennett Connolly

In a time when men fought and women stayed home, Nicholaa de la Haye held Lincoln Castle against all-comers. Not once, but three times, earning herself the ironic praise that she acted ‘manfully’. Nicholaa gained prominence in the First Baron’s War, the civil war that followed the sealing of Magna Carta in 1215. Although recently widowed, and in her 60s, in 1217 Nicholaa endured a siege that lasted over three months, resisting the English rebel barons and their French allies. The siege ended in the battle known as the Lincoln Fair, when 70-year-old William Marshal, the Greatest Knight in Christendom, spurred on by the chivalrous need to rescue a lady in distress, came to Nicholaa’s aid. Nicholaa de la Haye was a staunch supporter of King John, remaining loyal to the very end, even after most of his knights and barons had deserted him. A truly remarkable lady, Nicholaa was the first woman to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Her strength and tenacity saved England at one of the lowest points in its history. Nicholaa de la Haye is one woman in English history whose story needs to be told…

mybook.to/Nicholaa

Sharon Bennett Connolly FRHistS is the best-selling author of 4 non-fiction history books, including Heroines of the Medieval World and Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England. Her latest book, a biography, King John’s Right-Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye, was published in May 2023. A Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Sharon has studied history academically and just for fun – and has even worked as a tour guide at a castle. She writes the popular history blog, www.historytheinterestingbits.com and regularly gives talks on women’s history. Sharon is a feature writer for All About History magazine and her TV work includes Australian Television’s ‘Who Do You Think You Are?‘

Links:

Blog: https://historytheinterestingbits.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Thehistorybits/

Twitter: @Thehistorybits

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sharonbennettconnolly/?hl=en

Amazon: http://viewauthor.at/SharonBennettConnolly

Podcast: A Slice of Medieval (https://soundcloud.com/user-142525904)

The Kingmaker’s Women

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My copy arrived this afternoon. Very exciting. I really enjoyed researching the lives of Anne Beauchamp and her daughters; heartbreak, rebellion and witchcraft. Who needs fiction?

Isabel and Anne also had a half-sister, Margaret, who married Sir Richard Huddleston of Millom. And then of course, there were so very many aunts, all of them with their own stories. One of them, another Margaret, married the Earl of Oxford, was forced to flee into sanctuary and earned her living as a seamstress.

Available in all good bookshops not to mention a certain well known website!

https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/The-Kingmakers-Women-Hardback/p/23669

Marigold – Calendula officinalis

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Still going! And still not stitching fast enough – though I now have many ideas. Oh well. We’ll see what August brings.

Two marigolds completed and a third underway. It’s another plant with many local names reflecting its widespread cultivation from medieval times onwards. Calendula comes from the Latin for calendar named because the plant can be in flower from spring to autumn. The Lyle Herbal compiled by Anthony Askham in 1550 called them ‘the flower of all months’. It also had associations with the sun – because the flower turns towards it and because of its appearance. One of its common names is ‘bride of the sun’.

I do grow marigolds – the petals are a substitute for saffron so can be used as a dye as well as being edible. In medieval times they were used to treat wounds and as a treatment for sore teeth (optimistic I know). Modern herbalism recognises that they have anti-inflammatory properties. And yes I do partake of a pot of marigold tea on occasion – not sure whether it helps the rheumatism or not but there’s a sense of achievement in using something you’ve grown yourself at any rate. Medieval, Tudor and Stuart herbalists thought that it might protect you from a fever and even from the plague…I’m not prepared to guarantee that though!

Inevitably there is rather a lot of folklore associated with the bloom. Picked at noon it strengthens the heart and drives away melancholy. And if you want to discover the love of your life, stick it under your pillow at Halloween so that you will dream of them…I always thought that was apple peels thrown over your shoulder but it’s always good to have a variety of pre-internet dating methodologies available! To avoid being accused of witchcraft when gathering the flower, advice was also often provided as to what prayers to use. And nothing is not going to scream witch like someone mumbling to themselves while they pick flowers from the herb garden. I’m not sure that sentence works but you get the drift.

And talking of religious respectability, in Christian legend one of the names for the flower is ‘Mary’s gold’ because while the Holy Family were fleeing to Egypt, Mary’s purse was stolen. When the thieves opened it all they found were petals. Early Christians placed the flowers around statues of Mary as offerings in place of coins. By medieval times it became popular to plant Mary gardens with plants associated with the Virgin Mary, of which marigold was one. By the seventeenth century a similar collection of flowers had more subversive undertones so far as the State was concerned. Catholics planted so-called Mary gardens as a means of connecting to their beliefs. An alternative name to Mary’s gold, if you need another, was holy gold.

Mary’s gold became something of a pun for Mary Queen of Scots who used the image as a personal device on occasion. Marigolds can be found in the Oxburgh hangings at Oxburgh Hall in Norfolk (check whether they’re back in situ from their restoration at the V and A before going). Marigolds turning to the sun represented courage in adversity and the Scottish Queen certainly needed plenty of that. The flowers feature next to her monogram. The marigold was perhaps the least conspiratorial of the messages contained in the images on the Oxburgh hangings…no prizes for working out who the caterpillars might represent.

https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/prison-embroideries-mary-queen-of-scots

Columbines, granny’s bonnet, Aquilegia…call it what you will.

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Eight hours it took me to stitch the first granny’s bonnet on the coif and that’s not counting the two hours it took me to unpick my first effort – we won’t go into how many hours I’d already spent on it or the amount of time taken by the leaves. I am admittedly quite pleased with the end result but that could just be relief to have completed it!

Aquilegia were first listed as a garden plant by Hildegard of Bingen at Rupertsberg. She used it as a tincture to cure fever. The plant appears as an illustration in many medieval breviaries and psalters across Europe as a quick search will reveal.

To the medieval mind those fluttery petals were akin to bird’s wings – the association stuck. Columbine from the Latin columba meaning dove gives us the link to the Holy Spirit while aquila gives us the eagle – and Christ in the form of an eagle soaring heavenwards. Which makes me wonder if the bird on the left of the flower on the coif is in fact an eagle and the smaller one above it is supposed to be a dove (albeit a rather sooty looking one.)

The plant does have other common names because it it is indigenous to Britain. I’ve always known the flower as a granny’s bonnet – my mother comes from East Anglia – but it is also called boots-and-shoes; Dolly’s bonnet; lion’s herb’ rags and tatters and widows weeds among many others.

Wild columbines are largely blue and this was the colour of royal mourning in France – so the plant became associated with widows and the sorrows of Mary- the idea travelled. As if that weren’t enough apparently it was also known as herba leonis because there was a belief that lions favoured them as a light snack (don’t ask). As a consequence, carrying the flowers or even rubbing some sap into your hands was supposed to imbue a person with courage and fearlessness – qualities associated with lions.

The Hall family of Coventry are recorded as using columbines on their coat of arms – presumably so that they could be as gentle as the Holy Spirit, as warlike as an eagle, as brave as lions and as forlorn as deserted lovers (yup- yet another association).

Later, ladies who wished to find an example to turn into an embroidery might have used Gerard’s Herbal first published in 1597. Gerard described some of the variations to be found in the aquilegia as well as methods for their cultivation, indicating the move towards a more scientific approach. He noted that medieval medicine did not use it as a cure (he clearly hadn’t seen Hildegard’s thoughts on the subject) but he suggested:

Most in these days following others by tradition, do use to boil the leaves in milk against the soreness of the throat, falling and excoriation of the uvula: but the ancient writers have said nothing hereof. Ruellius reporteth, that the flowers of Columbines are not used in medicine: yet some there be that do affirm they are good against the stopping of the liver, which effect the leaves do also perform.            

Clusius saith, that Dr. Francis Rapard a physician of Bruges in Flanders, told him that the seed of this common Columbine very finely beaten to powder, and given in wine, was a singular medicine to be given to women to hasten and facilitate their labour, and if the first taking it were not suffficiently effectual; that then they should repeat it again.

I wouldn’t suggest trying it. For other sources the so-called Tudor Pattern Book of 1504 held by the Bodleian Library is part bestiary part herbal. The formalised image on the coif seems more Tudor than Stuart in form so I shall be taking myself off to Hardwick Hall to see if I can spot an embroidered slip that has a similar look.

https://www.exclassics.com/herbal/herbalv40114.htm

Click to access Flowers_and_heraldry%3B_or%2C_Floral_emblems_and_heraldic_figures%2C_combined_to_express_pure_sentiments%2C_kind_feelings%2C_and_excellent_principles_.._%28IA_flowersheraldryo00tyas%29.pdf

Binham Priory

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Located between Fakenham and Wells-next-the-Sea (which is someway inland these days), the priory is Norfolk’s most complete monastic ruin. It was founded by Peter de Valognes, the nephew of William the Conqueror, in 1091. Peter did rather nicely from the Norman invasion and the land he donated to the monks at St Alban’s for a news cell in Norfolk was on land his uncle granted him.

During the reign of Henry I, the monks were granted a market charter and free warren of their lands – which basically meant that they could slaughter as much small game as they wished without irritating the monarch who, according to feudal principles, owned it all under terms of forest law.

Not everything went so smoothly according to Matthew Paris the prior, Thomas, was removed in 1200 by the abbot of St Albans which led to a long running dispute and a falling out with Robert FitzWalter who was the prior’s friend not to mention an important baron in East Anglia. FitzWalter, who would gain his place in the history books during the First Barons’ War claimed to have a charter giving him, and him alone, the right to hire and fire the prior – it was forged but you can’t blame a baron for trying! FitzWalter even besieged the priory and King John not known for his good relationship with the Church had to send an army to raise the siege.

The priory as it stands dates from between 1227- 1244. The west window tracery was the first in England to be formed from bars of stone enabling more glass and less stone to be employed. Excavations have revealed some of the magnificent medieval stained glass.

Inevitably by the time Cromwell sent his commissioners to pay a visit in 1536 there were a series of scandals, three incontinent monks out of a small band six, but it avoided suppression until 1539. A gentleman from the King’s privy chamber, Thomas Paxton, rented the manor which was worth £101 a year. Part of the priory church became Binham Parish Church. Among the survivals are two misericords and four panels from the chancel screen incorporating words from the approved 1539 Bible – Coverdale. The words have been painted over the top of the medieval saints and of Henry VI.

Incidentally if you want scandal, one of the priors, William de Somerton (1317-1355), sold off monastic land to fund his alchemy experiments. And if that’s not lively enough for you there are folktales of tunnels running from Binham to Walsingham – for which there is absolutely no evidence!

Peter of Savoy and the Honour of Richmond

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Peter of Savoy, statue in front of the Savoy Hotel, was Eleanor of Provence’s uncle. His father intended that Peter should enter the church but in 1234 he concluded that the life of a cleric was not for him. When he arrived in England, Henry III, showered favours on him because it would please Eleanor. In 1240 the king granted him most of the Honour of Richmond. However, the envy of the barons focused upon him and at the start of the Second Barons’ War he life the country for his own safety.

In 1265 Simon de Montfort confiscated the honour but in the aftermath of the Battle of Evesham, Henry III returned the estates to him. Peter, who married his cousin Agnes of Faucigny, had only one legitimate child, a daughter named Beatrice but she did not inherit the honour of Richmond after her father’s death in 1268. Instead the honour reverted to the Crown.

The first man who acquired the barony was the eldest son of Alice of Brittany and Peter de Dreux who became the 2nd Earl of Richmond in 1268. In the succeeding generations five of the earls of Richmond would be Dukes of Brittany. Only one of them lived most of his life in England in service of its kings. John, Earl of Richmond born in 1266 was granted the honour in 1306 by Edward I.

Morris, David, The Honour of Richmond

William Longspée the Younger who did not become an earl of Salisbury

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Sir William Longspée the Younger was born in about 1212. His father, William Longspée, was an illegitimate son of Henry II, friend of William Marshal, 1st Earl of Pembroke and husband of Ela of Salisbury, the suro jure countess.

William’s father was an influential man and chivalrous man but the earl died not long after he was shipwrecked in 1225. Rumour whispered that Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent had a hand in his death through poison but by then Hubert was not a popular man. Unfortunately for William II, his mother Ela held the title in her own right so William the Younger could not legally carry the title although he did attempt to claim it.

In 1233 he sailed close to rebellion because of his friendship with Richard Marshal who took the Marches to war when one of Gilbert Basset’s manors in Wiltshire was unlawfully seized on the kings orders. Another of Marshal’s adherents Richard Siward was wrongfully imprisoned at about the same time. The king was accused of listening to the advice of his advisor the Bishop of Winchester, Peter des Roches who advocated that kings could do as they wished.

The so-called Marshal War was largely a March affair but it resulted in Shrewsbury being burned and Henry III experiencing the embarrassment of the Welsh routing his army – who were sleeping soundly in their tents at Grosmont Castle when Llewelyn’s army arrived. Longspee did not become involved but he was required to hand over his daughter as a hostage for his good behaviour when he threatened to join the rebellious barons. The Crown perhaps recognising that they were on thin ice placed the girl in the custody of her grandmother.

By 1240 William decided to go on Crusade in the service of Richard of Cornwall, Henry III’s younger brother, who sailed for the Holy Land via Marseilles. Two other groups of nobles set off at the same time including Simon de Montfort. Cornwall’s party included his own extended family, of whom Longspée was a part. William didn’t see action, returning with Cornwall in the spring of 1241.

He returned to the Holy Land in 1247 on a second crusade with the French king, Louis IX against the Egyptian mamlukes. To raise the funds for the endeavour he sold a charter to the town of Poole. It was during this crusade that he gained renown for his daring and ultimately his death as reported by the chronicler Matthew Paris which, in the long term, did nothing to help Anglo-French relations. It was reported that the Count d’Artois tricked Longspée into making an attack before the French king was in place with his own troops. Longspée, his men and 280 knights templars were killed during the encounter.

An effigy was erected in Salisbury Cathedral although his remains were buried in the Holy Land at Acre.

Although William was married and had several children, his own heir, another William, also predeceased Ela of Salisbury who died in 1261. William the even younger’s (sorry couldn’t think of anything snappier) only child, Margaret, married Henry de Lacy, 3rd Earl of Lincoln. Margaret became suo jure Countess of Salisbury in her own right following her grandmother’s death.

The female line continued to hold the earldom of Salisbury. Margaret’s daughter Alice de Lacy became the suo jure countess of Lincoln and Salisbury after one of her brothers fell down a well and the other one fell off a parapet at Pontefract Castle. Alice was unhappily married to Edward I’s nephew Thomas of Lancaster from childhood. The inheritance, when it fell into Thomas’s lap, made him the wealthiest man in the kingdom. Alice’s turbulent life is well worth the retelling: it includes two kidnaps and imprisonment demonstrating that, on occasion, life as an heiress wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Alice died without children in 1348.

The earldom of Lincoln fell into abeyance but the earldom of Salisbury had already been forfeited in 1322. The lands which had once belonged to the Longspée dynasty passed back up the collateral line to James Audley who was descended from William Longspée the younger’s eldest daughter Ela who was married into the Audley family.

The title would be recreated for Edward III’s friend William Montagu or Montacute depending upon your preference. And from there it’s a hop and a skip to Richard Neville Earl of Warwick (a.k.a. The Kingmaker).

If you would like to find out about William Longspée, Earl of Salisbury’s mother she can be found in Medieval Royal Mistresses and Alice Montagu, 5th Countess of Salisbury appears in my forthcoming book about The Kingmaker’s Women.

Popinjays – watch the birdie…

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By Wikimandia – This vector image includes elements that have been taken or adapted from this file:, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16924691

What’s not to love about a parrot or in this case a popinjay? This is Robert Tweng’s coat of arms according to a certain well known online encyclopaedia site – argent field; fess of gules and three birdies – no that’s to a technical term. The popinjays or parrots first turn up on a Tweng coat of arms in 1255. Apparently parrots became popular during the reign of Henry III.

This particular manifestation was created in 1690 for Richard Lumley , one of the so-called Immortal Seven who invited William of Orange across the Channel to depose his father-in-law James II. He was created Viscount Lumley as a reward although the title had existed previously in Ireland. The family were of royalist stock during the civil wars of the seventeenth century.

So how do the Lumleys and Robert Tweng fit together? Robert Tweng, or William the Angry, had three sons who all died without legitimate heirs of their own. In 1374 his barony which he had in his own turned acquired through marriage to an heiress, passed through Tweng’s daughter Lucy into the Lumley family. Simples… though I’m still not sure why anyone would opt for a goose-stepping parrot.

William Wither – or William the angry..

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Gisborough Priory, Wikimedia Commons

In December 1231 a band of masked men from Yorkshire calling themselves the Brotherhood attacked a group of foreign churchmen as they came out from a meeting at St. Albans. Most of the clergy fled back to the church but one Italian named Censius, wasn’t as fast as the others. He became a prisoner and he was not released until he had paid a ransom.

The masked men wanted to rid England of foreign holders of benefice. The problem had arisen since the papacy began to demand its annual taxes in full. Inevitably the masked men proved to be very popular with the English who shared gossip about foreign priests becoming wealthy on the back of English labour. It helped that the band carried letters which suggested that the Crown approved of what they were doing. The blame for all the foreigners was about to fall on the head of Henry III’s long term adviser Hubert de Burgh, 1st Earl of Kent.

The Brotherhood grew. It turned out that Robert Tweng, from Yorkshire riding under the name William Wither was responsible for the first raids but it quickly became clear that any one in possession of a cloak and a mask was taking the opportunity to rob ecclesiastical types with Italian accents. They were robbed, their tithe barns emptied and life generally became rather uncomfortable. Some Italians went into hiding and others left the country. Papal messengers were held up and robbed.

The bishops held a council in February 1232 and excommunicated everyone connected with the attacks. Unexpectedly, they were ignored. Gregory IX was not amused and gave King Henry III and the Church in England a ticking off adding that any one caught should be sent to Rome.

Robert Tweng was identified, excommunicated and then packed off to Rome. The Pope, discovering that the knight’s actions were due to a church, to which he held the advowson, to an alien without his consent being granted office, absolved Tweng. Tweng had inherited the problem of Kirkleatham Church when he married Matilda de Autrey in 1222. Gisborough claimed the advowson as well and had managed to gain possession while Matilda’s uncle Sir William de Kylton was elderly and unwell. having taken the matter to the ecclesiastical court and got no where Tweng had taken matters into his own hands with the support of some very powerful northern families including the de Vescis and Percys. he is also thought to have had links with Henry’s younger brother Richard of Cornwall who afforded him support when the matter came to Henry III’s attention and the knight was sent off Rome with letters from the king.

The Brotherhood, their point made, stopped what they were doing and official investigations dropped. prominent men both in Church and State had either been involved personally or supported the brotherhood. It was a case of not opening a can of worms, turning over any rocks and definitely not disturbing any sleeping dogs. Only one man was going to get the blame and that was Hubert de Burgh, the king’s long term advisor if his political opponent Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester had his way.

Eleanor of Brittany – lifelong ward…guest…prisoner

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Eleanor of Brittany was a grand daughter of King Henry II born in about 1184. She was the eldest child of Henry’s son Geoffrey and Constance, sure jure Countess of Brittany.  Geoffrey, who was older than his brother John, was killed during a tournament in Paris in August 1186.  His only son, Arthur, was a posthumous child. With the arrival of Arthur, Eleanor was no longer such a good catch as a bride because the duchy would pass to her brother. Her grandfather kept Eleanor in protective custody from the time she was two-years of age. King Philip II demanded that the girl should become his ward but Henry refused to consider the possibility. 

            With the death of Geoffrey, Richard became his niece’s guardian. The king offered her as a bride to Saladin’s brother when her aunt Joanna of Sicily refused. After Richard’s imprisonment on his way home from the 3rd Crusade by Duke Leopold of Austria she was betrothed to the duke’s son. The death of Leopold before she could be handed into his care meant that the betrothal was broken. There were other betrothal negotiations but none came to fruition. Then in 1199 Richard died unexpectedly. In 1201, Eleanor’s mother Constance, who had petitioned for her daughter’s return into her custody on several occasions, also died. 

            Arthur, Eleanor’s brother, had a good claim to the throne. He was, after all, the son of John’s elder brother but John was an adult who was not a pawn of the French in the way that Arthur became. In 1202 Arthur was captured after he laid siege to his grandmother Eleanor of Aquitaine at Mirebeau. Arthur disappeared from the historical record during Easter 1203, believed to have been murdered by his uncle John in a drunken rage. Eleanor, who was in England, was a threat by association but bumping off his niece would be far too suspicious.

            Technically as an unmarried female she was John’s ward and she would remain his dependent for the rest of his life. If she was freed, permitted to rule as the duchess of Brittany and married then her husband would have had a claim to the throne – although after the experience with the Empress Matilda no one was keen on the idea of a female monarch. By keeping her in custody the possibility of civil war was removed as was any possibility of her taking an active political role. Even so, the possibility of a marriage was considered. A woman with legitimate royal blood was a useful bargaining chip. In 1208, John created her Countess of Richmond and permitted her to come to court by then her younger half-sister was Brittany’s duchess. She may also have accompanied her uncle on campaign in 1214 when John sought to regain at least part of his father’s empire.

Throughout it all Eleanor was treated as a royal kinsman, she had ladies, good food and royal robes but she was not free to come and go as she wished either in John’s life time or during the reign of his son King Henry III. By 1225 she had a small household and an allowance for almsgiving, but it did not represent the income from the earldom of Richmond and even worse Henry removed the title from her in order to bestow it elsewhere.  Over the years she was moved around the countryside. She stayed at Corfe in Dorset but travelled to Bowes and Burgh as well as Marlborough and Gloucester. It seems that her guards were changed regularly in order to prevent any escape plots being hatched.

She died at Bristol Castle in 1241 after 39 years as a prisoner having never plotted against a king of England.

Seabourne, Gwen, Imprisoning Medieval Women, (Ashgate Publishing, 2013)

Seabourne, Gwen, ‘Eleanor of Brittany and Her Treatment by King John and Henry III’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 51 (2007), 73–110