Statute of Rhuddlan

With Dafydd ap Gruffudd executed for high treason and Wales under his control, it was time for Edward to establish the government he wanted. Prior to this, Wales was governed by the Laws of Hywel Dda, and the country was ruled by separate principalities. Edward introduced England's shire system, and introduced English common law, although he allowed some Welsh legal practices.

Edward had built Rhuddlan Castle in the north of Wales in 1277 after the first war between Edward and Wales. The Statute of Rhuddlan was issued from there, dividing the country into the the counties of Anglesey, Merionethshire, Caernarfonshire, and Flintshire, and revenues from them would now be collected by a new office, the Chamberlain of North Wales, who sent them to the Exchequer at Westminster. The English offices of sheriff and coroner and bailiff were established in each county.

Not everything about local law was changed, so there were differences when you crossed the border from England to Wales. Murder, larceny, and robbery were treated the same. The Laws of Hywel Dda used arbitration to settle disputes, not proclamations from a judge, and that system was maintained.

Inheritance laws were also different from England, where primogeniture was important to keep estates intact. When dealing with land, Wales followed partitive or partible inheritance, with property being divided among heirs. Some changes were made to align with England, however: if there were no son, a daughter could inherit; an illegitimate child could not inherit; widows were entitled to a third of their husband's estate.

The Statute of Rhuddlan was superseded by the Laws in Wales Acts of 1535/6 and 1542/3 under Henry VIII, or, more formally: An Act for Laws and Justice to be ministered in Wales in like Form as it is in this Realm and An Act for Certain Ordinances in the King's Majesty's Dominion and Principality of Wales. Henry wanted the law in Wales to match those of England exactly, and also desired to force English as the official language in a country that almost exclusively spoke Welsh. The 16th century is not really pertinent to this blog, however, so we won't go into any more of that.

Instead, let's ask why I indicated the Acts above as 1535/6 and 1542/3? Wasn't it clear what year they were established? It is, or was, but that depends on when you consider the year to start. Tomorrow let's talk about when the Middle Ages celebrated the "new" year.

The First High Treason

With Llywelyn ap Gruffudd dead in December of 1282, the title Prince of Wales went to his younger brother, Dafydd ap Gruffydd. Dafydd was not to enjoy the title for very long, however. Edward I of England had Dafydd surrounded in the mountainous Snowdonia by January 1283. With resources dwindling, Dafydd managed to sneak downhill to another castle, Castell y Bere, but that was besieged in April. Dafydd escaped that siege and holed up at a guard post further north, but in May had to flee into the mountains.

Dafydd and a few companions had no food or shelter, and had to stay on the run from English soldiers. On 22 June he was captured along with one of his sons, Owain ap Dafydd. (Owain and a brother who was captured later would remain in captivity for the rest of their lives, even being locked into a cage at night so there was no chance of escape.)

Dafydd was taken to the encampment of Edward, who summoned Parliament to Shrewsbury to determine the traitor's fate. He was convicted of High Treason against his king—the first time such a verdict had been brought in England. His punishment needed to be significant to match the crime. On 3 October the sentence was carried out. Let me quote myself from 2013:

He was tied to a horse's tail and dragged through the streets to the place where he was hanged. His body was cut down before death was certain; he was revived, then he was cut open and his entrails pulled out and set afire so that he could see it all happening. His body was then cut into 4 pieces, the parts going to different parts of the kingdom to be put on display. The person given the task of seeing all this done, Geoffrey of Shrewsbury, was paid 20 shillings for the job.

Part of the viciousness of the punishment was because of the sacrilege that Dafydd committed by starting his rebellion on Palm Sunday, desecrating Holy Week.

His daughter and Llywelyn's infant daughter were sent to convents in Sixhills and Sempringham, respectively. There were a few relatives that survived capture, who actually tried rebelling years later, but Wales was now under English rule, and therefore was going to be subject to English rules. Tomorrow we'll see the attempt to replace the Laws of Hywel Dda with the Statute of Rhuddlan.

Welsh Rebellion in 1282

The Treaty of Aberconwy in 1277 was supposed to make everyone happy. Dafydd ap Gruffydd (his coat of arms is shown here) was out from under his brother Llywelyn's control—as were leaders of other Welsh kingdoms—and Llywelyn was allowed to retain the title Prince of Wales, recognized by Edward I of England, who now had much of Wales under his control.

Dafydd decided he wasn't happy with his lot, however—even though he had been given part of eastern Gwynedd by Edward. Edward was also antagonizing the Welsh by imposing English law to replace the Laws of Hywel Dda. Dafydd allied himself with some of the other Welsh lords (Deheubarth and North Powys) whose overlord had switched from Llywelyn to Edward to attack English holdings. The first strike was on Palm Sunday in 1282 when they captured Hawarden Castle and laid siege to Rhuddlan Castle. The Lanercost Chronicle described it:

...the Welsh nation, unable to pass their lives in peace, broke over their borders on Palm Sunday, carrying fire and sword among the people engaged in procession, and even laid siege [to Flint and Rhuddlan]; whose Prince Llywelyn, deceived (more's the pity) by the advice of his brother David, fiercely attacked his lord the King;

This success emboldened other Welsh territories to rise up against the English overlords. Llywelyn himself joined in, after sending a letter to Archbishop of Canterbury John Peckham, stating that he was not involved in planning the revolt, but now felt he needed to take steps to support his brother.

Peckham tried to mediate, suggesting Llywelyn be offered some lands in England as a reward for standing down, and Dafydd should agree to go on Crusade as penance. Neither man accepted this suggestion, however, and Edward was not willing to give up anything as a "reward" for rebellion. Five years earlier, Edward had entered Wales with an army intended to punish the uprising and put it to rest. Now he wanted a more decisive conclusion. Nothing but complete conquest of Wales would satisfy him.

This would be the end of Llywelyn and Dafydd. There was one positive for Dafydd: he became Prince of Wales for a little over half a year upon Llywelyn's death. How did Llywelyn die? There are a few stories about that. Tomorrow I'll explain the many deaths of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd.

The Conquest of Wales

Hostilities between Wales and anyone living to the east who wanted to control them was ongoing for centuries, but it wasn't until Edward I of England that Wales became part of a United Kingdom. Edward's father, Henry III, was not a very effective ruler when it came to war, but Edward was prepared, after Henry's death in 1272, to make great strides in asserting the power of England on the island (and on the continent).

Henry wasn't completely ineffective on the Welsh issue. In 1267 the Treaty of Montgomery was signed by Llywelyn ap Gruffudd (1223 - 1282), Prince of Gwynedd—who held the largest unified part of Wales at the time—and Henry to stop recent hostilities and acknowledge Llywelyn as Prince of Wales—the only time a king of England established a Welsh leader's right to that title. All Llywelyn had to do was acknowledge the king of England as his liege. Llywelyn was willing to do that if it meant England left him alone. (The illustration shows Llywelyn on the left, Edward on the right.)

In 1274, the leader of Powys, Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, and Llywelyn's younger brother, Dafydd ap Gruffydd, decided to throw their lot in with Edward for protection against some of the English lords (Roger Mortimer was one) who were attacking Welsh lands. Edward commanded Llywelyn to come to pay homage—as required by the Treaty of Montgomery. Llywelyn refused, and further angered Edward by arranging marriage (without Edward's blessing) to Simon de Montfort's daughter Eleanor. de Montfort had started a rebellion against Edward's father in 1263, trying to expand the statutes of Magna Carta and take more power from the Crown. This marriage would be advantageous to Llywelyn, and might mean de Montfort's descendant would rule (at least part of) Wales, but Edward saw it as an insult to his family.

Favorable to Edward was the fact that many nobles of Wales did not appreciate Llywelyn's heavy-handed overlordship. As the English started smaller incursions into Welsh territory, long before a major push with the main army, they were joined by the Welsh rulers who saw a path to having more freedom if Llywelyn were thrust from power. In July 1277, Edward's army marched north into Gwynedd with 6000 English troops and 9000 Welsh.

There is no battle named for what happened next, because there was no battle. The invading army never had to fight: Llywelyn realized he was outnumbered, and disliked by his own people, and accepted Edward's negotiation in order to avoid damage to the population and the countryside. This led to the Treaty of Aberconwy in November 1277. The Treaty left Llywelyn with the western part of Gwynedd and the title Prince of Wales, but the eastern part was divided between Llywelyn's brother David and Edward himself. With very little effort, Edward now controlled much of Wales.

This arrangement lasted five years, until David decided he wasn't happy with the little he was given, but that's a story for tomorrow. (Spoiler alert: I wrote about the result of Dafydd's efforts over a decade ago, if you aren't squeamish.)

The Next Earl(s) of Chester

Ranulf de Blondeville died in October 1232 without leaving an heir to the title Earl of Chester, so King Henry III needed to choose one. Fortunately, the 5th Earl, Hugh de Kevelioc (Ranulf's father), had more than one child. Unfortunately, the other child he had besides Ranulf was female, Matilda (or Maud) of Chester (1171 - 1233). Fortunately, she had a few sons, the eldest of which was John of Scotland, born 1207. Why "of Scotland'?  Matilda had been married to David of Scotland, the 8th Earl of Huntingdon (1152 - 1219).

When Ranulf died, Matilda inherited (along with three sisters) a part of his estates, but as the eldest she inherited the earldom suo jure, Latin for "in [his/her] own right," meaning the title is hers and not derived from marriage to the earl. Matilda at the time was about 60 years old, and so one month after she inherited the title, she gave it (with King Henry's permission) to her son, and the title of 7th Earl went to John of Scotland. Matilda died 6 January 1232.

John died in 1237, and following the accidental family pattern left no heirs but had sisters. The sisters inherited his estates, and agreed among them that the eldest sister's son should become the 8th Earl. That would have been William de Forz. Henry did not like this solution: he saw estates being divided among women and perhaps didn't want the earldom being run by an increasingly Scottish dynasty. Henry purchased the honor (estate) of Chester from the sisters in 1246.

In 1254 there was a Third Creation. Henry gave the title to his son Edward. Since Edward would later become King Edward I, in 1264 there was a Fourth Creation and the new Earl of Chester was Simon de Montfort, who was the 6th Earl of Leicester but now became the 1st Earl of Chester of the Fourth Creation.

King Edward I followed in his father's footsteps and gave his son, who would later become King Edward II, the title. Edward of Caernarvon was Earl of Chester of the Fifth Creation.

As Edward II, the Sixth Creation was made for his son, Edward Plantagenet, who would later become King Edward III.

The Earldom of Chester (seen in the map above in the top right, in purple) was a powerful entity and valuable as a staging for some of the wars against the Welsh. Tomorrow we'll start looking at conflicts between England and Wales.

Kings and Archbishops

The controversy between King Henry II and his best friend, Thomas Becket, was far from the only clash between temporal and ecclesiastical power. Robert Winchelsey (c.1245 - 1313) also started being supported by his king, Edward I, but later clashed with him and his advisors. The same pattern was repeated with the king's successor, Edward II.

Winchelsey (from Winchelsea, whose seal appears here) studied at the University of Paris (where he might have met Thomas Aquinas) and at Oxford. In 1283 he was made a canon of St. Paul's in London. When the Archbishop of Canterbury, John Peckham, died in 1292, Winchelsey was elected to replace him. He could not be confirmed, however, because although he went to Rome to receive the pallium, there was no pope at the time. He could not be consecrated archbishop until after the election of Celestine V.

When he returned to England and swore an oath of loyalty to King Edward, he added his own qualifier, that he was loyal "only regarding the king's temporal decisions and power, not regarding spirituality." Edward's anger with him continued when Winchelsey refused to have the clergy give up the percentage of taxes the king demanded to finance his administration and his wars with France. Winchelsey did allow one tenth of ecclesiastical revenues to go to the king in 1295, and that if the war continued into a second year he might consider more funding.

Things changed in 1296, however, with Clericis laicos, a papal bull forbidding church taxes to secular powers. Winchelsey told his clergy that further taxes were not to be paid to the agents of the king. York, however, allowed the king one-fifth of their revenue, a precedent that made it easier for Edward to declare any clergy who did not pay taxes to be outlaws, and that their property would be seized. The outlaws would be forgiven and return to his good graces if they paid a fine of ... (wait for it) ... one-fifth of their revenues. Winchelsey told the clergy it was up to them if they wanted to pay. Slowly, the clergy gave in.

All except Winchelsey himself. Edward seized his lands, but the two were reconciled in July 1297. At that point, Winchelsey tried to mediate between the king and his earls, who also objected to so much taxation. Speaking of money, Winchelsey clashed with Edward's chief advisor, his Treasurer Walter Langton. Langton was the Bishop of Lichfield, but unlike Winchelsey he placed his loyalty to the king above his loyalty to the church.

In fact, Langton was one of two men sent by Edward to the pope to complain that Winchelsey was plotting against the king. How that turned out will be a subject for next time.

Walter Langton

One of the Keepers of the Wardrobe for five years (1290 - 1295) under Edward I was Walter Langton (1243 - 1321). He used the surname Langton because he was from Langton in Leicestershire. He was born in 1243 and likely entered the church at a young age. His uncle, William Langton, was Dean of York in 1262, and Walter might have been raised by him. (William was elected Archbishop of York, but did not get the position because the pope wanted someone else.)

Walter in 1272 was a rector of a church in Yorkshire, and it may have been through the Lord Chancellor Robert Burnell (who was also Archdeacon of York) that King Edward I became aware of Langton. Edward made Langton Keeper of the Wardrobe and, it was said, relied on him as his closest confidant. When the debate arose over succession in Scotland after the death of Alexander III, Edward sent Langton to represent England's interests.

In 1295, Langton was made Treasurer until 1307 (Edward's death). He was also given several ecclesiastical benefices from which he could recieve revenues. In 1296 he was made Bishop of Lichfield and rebuilt his residence there, Eccleshall Castle, into a much grander building.

His increasing wealth made him a target of the Barons, who asked Edward to dismiss him. He was accused of simony, adultery, murder, and witchcraft. Although he went to Rome for trial, Pope Boniface VIII sent him back to the court of Archbishop of Canterbury Robert Winchelsey. Winchelsey was hostile to Langton, due to Langton's siding with the king over taxation of the clergy. Despite this attitude, he found Langton innocent of the charges.

Edward I supported his Treasurer and councillor even when Langton quarreled with the king's son, Edward Caernarvon. Langton was opposed (as were others) to the influence over the prince of Piers Gaveston. When Edward I died and the prince became King Edward II and Gaveston returned from exile, Langton knew his time was past. Langton was arrested, imprisoned, and his lands and movable property were seized. Pope Clement V tried to intervene on his behalf, but the Barons also were against him and he stayed in prison until 1312. He was returned to his post as Treasurer, but Parliament asked that he be dismissed in 1315. He died on 9 November 1321.

It was startling that Winchelsey found Langton innocent, when he could have taken the opportunity to eliminate a thorn in his side. Winchelsey was an enemy of Edward I and Edward II and spent 20 years fighting them. I'll tell you about him tomorrow.

Eleanor's Children

Eleanor of Castile, as Queen of England, wanted advantageous marriages for her children. She and Edward I had 16 or more, but although many marriages were proposed and arranged, only a few of the children achieved adulthood. Several of the first offspring died before even reaching double digits in age.

One named Eleanor (1269 - 1298) was the first child who survived to adulthood. She was betrothed to Alfonso III of Aragon (once mentioned here), but he died before the marriage could take place. She married Count Henry III of Bar. They had a son who succeeded his father as Count of Bar, and a daughter who married the 7th Earl of Surrey.

Joan (1272 - 1307) married twice. The first was Gilbert de Clare, who had fought against Edward and his father during the Second Barons' War and had overseen a massacre of Jews at Canterbury. After Gilbert died, she persuaded her father to knight one of Gilbert's squires, Ralph de Monthermer. Ralph was about the same age as Joan. Once he was knighted, Joan and Ralph secretly married. Edward found out a few months later and angrily had Ralph imprisoned. According to the chronicler Thomas Walsingham (writing at a much later date), Joan pleaded with her father:

No one sees anything wrong if a great earl marries a poor and lowly woman. Why should there be anything wrong if a countess marries a young and promising man?

This, and the intervention of the Bishop of Durham, Antony Bek, caused the king to relent. Ralph was released and officially name to Gilbert de Clare's old titles (that were inherited by Joan), making him jure uxoris (by right of wife) Earl of Gloucester and Hertford.

Margaret, their 10th child, was born in 1275 and died sometime after 1333. She married John the Peaceful, Duke of Brabant. John had one child with Margaret who succeeded him, and several illegitimate children who did not.

Elizabeth (1282 - 1316) John I, Count of Holland, when she was 15. John was born in 1284, and the marriage to Elizabeth was arranged in 1285. They tied the know in 1297 in Ipswich, after which they lived in Holland. He died in 1299, and she married Humphrey de Bohun, 4th Earl of Hereford. Humphrey was from a powerful family who would be a very loud voice against Elizabeth's brother...

Edward Caernarvon, their last child and the only male to survive past childhood. Plenty has been said about his rule, his lifestyle, his marriage to Isabella of France, and his death.

Instead, I will go back to Antony Bek, the Bishop of Durham who spoke to the king on behalf of Joan's marriage. He had a little trouble being loyal to both King Edward and the Archbishop of Canterbury, a story for tomorrow.

Eleanor's Unpopularity

Eleanor of Castile (1241 - 1290) was not always well-liked by the English. Although she was performing the expected duty of providing children to Edward I, she was a foreigner in an England that was becoming increasingly wary of influence in their politics from the continent.

She also became disproportionately wealthy in the acquisition of land. The lands given to her as dowry provided £4500 annually, and lands she acquired between 1274 and 1290 produced £2600. This was Edward's plan: to make sure she had annual income to support her needs and desires without having to draw from the Exchequer. She had an annual budget of £8000, so the majority came from her rents.

These were rents that would have gone to many other nobles, however, who resented not possessing lands that in the past belonged to their dynasties. After the Battle of Evesham during the Second Barons' War, lands held by the rebels were given to Eleanor.

Some of the lands were confiscated from nobles because they were mortgaged, used as collateral by borrowing money from Jews. Montfort financed the Second Barons' War partially by persecuting Jews and destroying the records of debts his followers owed to them. Canceling Jewish debts or trading bond debts for land required royal permission, however, and so after the War, Henry III (and Edward I later) would take over de Montfort's followers debts and claim them. Much real estate came into the hands of the king cheaply, and was given to Eleanor.

She also benefitted from the execution of hundreds of Jews for the illegal act of coin clipping. Property of the executed was handed over to her.

An argument made against her was that she actually benefitted from usury, the Jewish practice of charging interest on loans which was forbidden to Christians. Of course anyone borrowing from Jews was paying interest, and the king often simply took over the money owed to Jews for his own purposes, but having the queen gain so much wealth through Jewish debts was a step too far. The Archbishop of Canterbury, John Peckham, spoke about this:

A rumour is waxing strong throughout the kingdom and has generated much scandal. It is said that the illustrious lady queen, whom you serve, is occupying many manors, lands, and other possessions of nobles, and has made them her own property – lands which the Jews have extorted with usury from Christians under the protection of the royal court.

The fact that she "benefitted" from this financial connection to Jews' money did not mean she had a close association with Jews. A devout Christian whose family was very involved in the Crusades, there is every reason to believe that she shared the common hostility toward Jews. Some think that her influence inspired Edward to declare the Expulsion of all Jews from England in 1290. The Expulsion allowed Jews to leave with personal possessions and cash, but property was left behind and given to the king. This would simply be a continuation of the previous practice of supporting his queen (and himself).

By the end of 1290, however, Eleanor was dead, and Edward was bereft. He wanted to commemmorate Eleanor, and he did, in a manner which can still be seen. I'll tell you about Eleanor Crosses tomorrow.

Eleanor of Castile

Ferdinand III of Castile and his queen, Joan the Countess of Ponthieu, had two children together. One, a son named Ferdinand, went on to become Count of Aumale (inherited through Joan from her father). The other was a daughter named Eleanor (born 1241), after Joan's grandmother Eleanor, the daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine. (Ferdinand had sons from a previous wife, one of whom, Alfonso, succeeded him.)

Her father's court was focused on education and the arts, and so she probably had a good education growing up. Castile had hoped to unite with the kingdom of Navarre. When Eleanor was 11 her half-brother, King Alfonso X of Castile, hoped she would marry Theobald II of Navarre. Another of Alfonso's desires came into play, however.

Alfonso wanted to claim Gascony, which was at the time possessed by England. Henry III of England objected to this and brought in the military. They settled the issue by a marriage of Henry's son Edward, technically Duke of Gascony, to Alfonso's half-sister Eleanor. Edward and Eleanor were married on 1 November 1254 at the monastery of Las Huelgas.

Eleanor was barely 13, and in their first year of marriage, spent in Gascony, it is believed she gave birth to a daughter who did not survive long. In 1255, Eleanor traveled to England with an entourage including some relatives. Edward followed later. 

Eleanor became part of the political story during the Second Barons' War. She supported her husband, calling for archers from Ponthieu. The leader of the barons, Simon de Montfort, confined her to Westminster Palace. After Edward and Henry defeated the Barons, Eleanor seems to have taken a more prominent role in government. She also started bearing children. Husband and wife were never far apart, even on military campaigns. Their son Edward was born in Caernarfon Castle because Edward was on a military campaign to Wales.

Because household records kept track of expenses, we know of one of the couple's cute traditions. Edward obviously abstained from sexual relations with his wife during Lent. On Easter Sunday, he allowed the queen's ladies-in-waiting to trap him in his bed; he would have to pay them a ransom to get out and visit his wife's bedroom on Easter morning. (On the first Easter after Eleanor's death, Edward paid her ladies the money anyway.)

Another economic facet of Eleanor is how she benefitted from persecution of England's Jews, and we'll look at that tomorrow.

The Fight for Scotland Continues

(Part One) So the 13 claimants for the throne of Scotland came down to the four most likely candidates.

The An t-Adhbhar Mòr (Scottish Gaelic, "The Great Cause"), a group of 104 men plus King Edward I of England, would hear all the claimants and determine who should ascend to the throne. This was modeled on the centumviri (Latin "hundred men"), the court of 105 used in Roman Law to settle questions of succession to property. They included 24 of Edward's council.

One of the points that needed to be decided by the Great Cause was the primacy of primogeniture (of which there were different interpretations) or customary law. Primogeniture could be male-preference or any first-born child. "Customary law" would split the parent's possessions among the children. The four chief claimants, who hired lawyers to speak on their behalf, were as follows:

• John Balliol, Lord of Galloway
• Robert Bruce, 5th Lord of Annandale
• John Hastings, 1st Baron Hastings
• Floris V, Count of Holland

Floris V's great-great-grandmother was Ada, a daughter of Henry, Earl of Huntingdon, who was son of King David I of Scotland. Floris claimed that when William the Lion was king, William's brother David had abandoned his right to the throne of Scotland by accepting the title of Earl of Huntingdon. This would invalidate the claims of the three other men listed above, who were all descended from Earl David. The problem was he had no proof, and assured the investigators that there must be records of this in Scotland itself if they would only search. At the orders of Edward I of England, they did search, and found nothing after several months to support his claim. Floris abandoned his claim in summer of 1292.

John Hastings was also descended from Ada, daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon. He was an Englishman with a distinguished pedigree who in 1290 was summoned to Parliament and made a peer as Lord Hastings. His genealogical claim wasn't strong, so he took a legal approach. He argued that Scotland was not a proper kingdom, since it was only recently that its rulers were crowned and anointed. Therefore, there was no need to hand an intact kingdom over to a single person, and customary law allowed it to be split up among the heirs. The Great Cause did not take much deliberation to reject this idea and dismiss Hastings' claim.

Robert Bruce was the closest in blood to the now-defunct dynasty that started with David I. His lawyers also claimed that Alexander III (whose death started this whole difficulty) had named Bruce as his heir at a time when there seemed to be no other option. It's also worth pointing out that Bruce (as well as Balliol) had jumped at the chance to make a claim as soon as news of Margaret's death was known. Bruce argued against Floris's claim that the kingdom could be split, declaring that Scotland was indivisible and primogeniture should apply. Unfortunately for that claim, John of Balliol was descended from a child (Margaret) of David of Huntingdon who was older than the child (Isobel) from whom Bruce was descended. King Edward ruled that primogeniture through eldest surviving child pertained, and Bruce was dismissed. (Note: Edward had already established that England would be inherited by his eldest, a daughter, if he had no sons; absolute primogeniture, which means the sex of the child doesn't matter, was on his mind.)

Edward's determination of Bruce's claim happened in November 1292. Then there was a "November Surprise": Floris re-asserted his claim, and Bruce showed up to offer his public support of Floris! Floris decided to argue that the documents that would support him must have been stolen and his case should be reconsidered. As for Bruce, he did a 180° turn on the indivisibility of the kingdom. It seemed that he and Floris had probably made a deal: if Floris won, Bruce would be given a chunk of Scotland. Floris' claim was thrown out again for lack of evidence.

You can probably guess who became the next King of Scotland, and we will definitely present that case tomorrow, but today I leave you with an interesting footnote that explains the illustration.

The illustration above is of Pluscarden Abbey, currently a Catholic Benedictine monastery near Elgin, Moray. It was founded by Alexander II for the now-defunct Valliscaulian Order, which was absorbed by the Cistercians in the 18th century. In The Hague, Netherlands, there is a "certified" copy of a document that claims exactly what Floris claimed, signed and dated 1291 by the Bishop of Moray. It was supposedly found at Pluscarden Abbey. It is, of course, considered a forgery by all (I assume; there may be descendants of Floris V who have other thoughts).

See you soon.

The Fight for Scotland Begins

After the death of Alexander III of Scotland and his granddaughter, Margaret, the problem of who would rule Scotland rose again in September of 1290. Thirteen claimants came forward, including a half-hearted attempt by Margaret's father, Eric II of Norway.

Of the claimants, all but one were linked to King David I of Scotland—even Edward I was descended from David's sister, Matilda—mostly through David's son Henry, the Earl of Huntingdon. 

Many of the claimants were related by "natural birth"; that is, they were from extramarital affairs by Henry of Huntingdon or by David's son William the Lion. Two of the claimants took action immediately after hearing the news of Margaret's death. John Balliol forged an alliance with Edward's representative in England, Bishop of Durham Antony Bek. Robert Bruce went to Scone with an army, looking to demand the throne from the Guardians of Scotland, who had assembled there to greet Margaret on her arrival.

The Guardians of Scotland, a group of six regents who managed the kingdom after the death of Alexander, appealed to Edward I of England for his assistance and support. Edward offered to help, but used the opportunity to gain something for himself: declaring Scotland's king as a vassal of England's king, and Scotland no longer an independent kingdom. Rather than offer evidence from the past that he was the feudal overlord of Scotland, he asked the Guardians to provide evidence that he was not. The Guardians replied that (being kingless) they had no one with the authority to agree with his claim.

Edward was not happy with this reply, but since they still needed his help, he was able to get the Guardians to agree to some lesser claims. They would agree that Edward was their rightful overlord, but not that this applied to the whole country. Edward also took control of the principal royal castles in this interim, with the understanding that everything would be returned to a king, once Scotland had one.

They instituted what was called An t-Adhbhar Mòr (Scottish Gaelic, "The Great Cause"), a group of 104 men who, with Edward, would review all the claimants and choose the next king.

The strongest claims were from four men:

• John Balliol, Lord of Galloway
• Robert Bruce, 5th Lord of Annandale
• John Hastings, 1st Baron Hastings
• Floris V, Count of Holland

Tomorrow we will look over these four claimants, and announce a winner.

Maid of Norway, Queen of Scotland?

When King Alexander III of Scotland died unexpectedly, the only heir to the throne was his granddaughter in Norway, Margaret. He had named her his heir in 1286 after the deaths of his three children. She was three years old at the time, too young to travel to Scotland, so remained in Norway with her father, King Eric II. Her mother, Alexander's daughter Margaret, had died due to complications from childbirth, and her father was still in his teens.

Eric had little of his own royal authority, and was being managed by the bishop of Bergen, who also was shepherding Margaret's upbringing. In Scotland, six regents were chosen to manage the kingdom. They were also biding their time about the succession because of another wrinkle: before his death, Alexander's second wife, Yolande de Dreux, had become pregnant, and if she gave birth, that child would be a candidate in direct succession. In the meantime, there were two men who wanted to claim the throne: Robert Bruce (grandfather of Robert the Bruce), Lord of Annandale, and John Balliol, Lord of Galloway. Their claims were put aside by the Scottish Parliament

Yolande's child was stillborn. Robert Bruce rebelled, but was defeated. Months later, a representative from Norway arrived in Scotland to claim the kingdom for Margaret. The tensions in Scotland made Eric reluctant to send his daughter there. Instead, he sent envoys to Edward I of England to discuss the situation and Margaret's future. Edward's sister, Margaret of England, had been Alexander's first wife, and so Edward was great-uncle to the young Margaret. England also had a lot of interest in whomever was ruling Scotland.

In autumn of 1289, the six regents of Scotland, Robert Bruce, and English and Norwegians envoys met at Salisbury to discuss the situation. The resulting Treaty of Salisbury was signed on 1 November. It stated:

• Margaret was queen and heir to Scotland
• Edward would act on her behalf to ensure her authority
• Margaret would, in one year's time, go to Scotland, or England if Scotland was still contentious
• Once Edward was assured that Scotland was safe for her, Edward would deliver Margaret
• Edward had the right to choose her husband (although Eric could veto)

Edward also requested, and was granted, a papal dispensation that would allow Margaret to marry Edward of Caernarfon (Edward's son and therefore her cousin). Edward obviously intended his own son to become King of Scotland.

The next year, in August, a ship was prepared to take Margaret to Scotland. The bishop of Bergen and a royal advisor, Baron Tore Håkonsson, escorted her. The ship landed at Orkney on or about 23 September. It remained there, because Margaret had fallen ill on the journey. The symptoms matched motion sickness, but once on land, she remained ill, and died in the bishop's arms between 26 and 29 September, possibly from food poisoning. The waiting delegates at Scone never saw her; a coronation never happened. The body was returned to Bergen, and she was buried by Eric at the cathedral in Bergen.

She was the last in the direct line of succession from William the Lion, which kicked off no fewer than 13 claimants to the throne, including Eric of Norway. Then, about a decade later, a ship docked at Bergen and a woman claiming to be Margaret came ashore with a story to tell. Next time I'll tell you the story of False Margaret.

Medieval Toilets

Last week, a young co-worker expressed his disbelief that there were ever things like outhouses. I told him that I had used an outhouse many many times in my youth, which my family had built in our camping spot. That outhouse was a luxury: two holes, actual toilet seats, electric light, tissue paper.

Much of human history was not so fortunate.

Lacking indoor plumbing, the "privy" or "garderobe" was no more than a cramped alcove with a hole for straddling that dropped waste either to a deep pit or outside. Many castles built their garderobes to jut out from the exterior walls so that waste dropped into a ditch or moat. King Edward I made garderobes a requirement in his extensive Welsh castle-building program.

This design element for castles had one potential problem: the privy that extended out from the walls so the waste could simply fall outside the castle was a potential access point for invaders. An exposed waste shaft at Chateau Gaillard overlooking the Seine in Normandy (owned by King John of England) was low enough to the ground that it allowed forces of Philip II of France to sneak inside. A stone wall was built around the base to prevent further intrusions.

When Mayor Dick Whittington took office, he constructed a 128-seat public toilet facility called "Whittington's Longhouse" that dumped into the Thames so that high tide would flush the waste away. Many municipalities had public toilets, since health and hygiene were important for everyone's safety. They were often placed on bridges over rivers, as in York over the Ouse.

Whatever innovations were designed to drop waste away or flush it away with rivers or tides, there were still unsavory issues to deal with. The smell was always a problem. Also, in situations where refuse was not dropped into rivers but lay where it fell, paid positions were available for people to remove the waste and clean and fix the latrines. Maintenance was important, because unlike the stone example illustrated above, public latrines were built of wood, and wood needed to be replaced occasionally.

Tomorrow I'll share an incident in which architecture failed regarding a latrine. Prepare yourselves.

Isabella of France

Isabella of France was the only surviving daughter of King Philip IV of France and Joan I of Navarre, promised to the Prince of Wales (later King Edward II) by the 1303 Treaty of Paris. That she was eight at the time was not unusual—Philip used all his children for political marriages—and the marriage itself did not take place until 25 January 1308, so that she was respectably a teenager. Ironically, the marriage was meant to cease hostilities between England and France, but its chief issue (Edward III) would produce both a claimant to the French throne and the Hundred Years War. There is evidence that Edward I would have preferred his son marry someone from Gascony, but the Treaty's terms tied his hands. As it is, the marriage did not take place until after Edward I's death.

She was raised in Paris, learning to read and developing a love of books (she may have been more literate than her husband). The records of her wardrobe indicate the wealth from which she came: dresses of velvet and taffeta, furs, 72 headdresses, over 400 yards of linen, and two gold crowns. She also brought to the marriage gold and silver dinnerware.

A contemporary chronicler called her "the beauty of beauties... in the kingdom if not in all Europe." Since her father was called le Bel ("the Fair") because of his looks, and her brothers were all described as handsome men, it is likely that her description was not just courtly flattery. Contemporaries also commented on her charm, her skill at persuasion, and her intelligence. It was specifically said that she took after her father, not her mother, who was said to be short and heavy.

Although she well understood the duties of a woman married for political expedience, she was likely annoyed at her new husband's preference for the company of certain others, such as Piers Gaveston and Hugh le Despenser the Younger. Although she and Piers are said to have made peace with each other, Hugh was less gracious, and her husband's increasing closeness to Hugh (after Gaveston's death) ultimately motivated her to return to France and raise an army to invade England and deal with her increasingly wayward husband.

Still, between 1312 and 1321, she bore him four children, one of whom succeeded Edward as king, one of whom became queen of Scotland. She also stood by his side through some difficult times with his barons, until Hugh le Despenser started deliberately giving her cause for anger and desire for revenge. Ultimately, she felt she had no choice to ally herself with others and invade England, deposing her husband and eliminating Despenser.

How she managed the invasion and earned the epithet "She Wolf of France" will be offered in more detail in the next post.

Those Despensers!

One of the complaints about King Edward II of England by his barons was that he took the wrong people into his confidence and acted on their advice. Much is made of the colorful and witty Piers Gaveston, who Edward's father had attached to his son's household while they were both young. Many historians allow discussing Gaveston's relationship with Edward to overshadow the influence on Edward of the Despensers.

Hugh le Despenser the Younger was a few years younger than Edward. Through no effort on his own part, he became extremely wealthy and powerful. The young king—who was known for treating friends and favorites well—gave him estates and castles. His marriage to Eleanor de Clare in summer of 1306 was partially arranged because her grandfather, Edward I, owed Hugh's father 2000 marks. The debt was considered paid by his marriage into a wealthy noble family. Since his wife was also niece of the new king, Hugh was even closer to the royal family.

Then her brother was killed in 1314 at the Battle of Bannockburn. Her brother was Gilbert, 8th Earl of Gloucester, and through Eleanor Hugh inherited one-third of the Gloucester estates. Landless when first knighted, in a few years he became one of the wealthiest knights in England.

A few years after Gaveston's death, Edward elevated Hugh to the important position of chamberlain. The older barons saw this as yet another instance of Edward forsaking them for younger and less suitable councillors.

Hugh was not careful with his authority, alienating Edward's queen, Isabella of France. He also vowed revenge on Roger Mortimer, whom Queen Isabella took into her confidence (and perhaps her bed), because Mortimer's grandfather had killed Hugh's grandfather. Hugh also was known to seize lands that were not his own, and cheating others of their properties. In August of 1321, the barons forced Hugh and his father, Hugh le Despenser the Elder, into exile. The Vita Edwardi Secundi ("Life of Edward the Second"), covering the years of Edward's reign up to 1326, says the Younger became a pirate in the English Channel during this time, "a sea monster, lying in wait for merchants as they crossed the sea."

Edward recalled the Despensers from exile, and they and their forces helped him to put down a rebellion, capture Mortimer, and execute one of Edward's harshest critics, Lancaster. The wheel of fortune turns, however, and there was no long and contented life ahead of Hugh. For details of his death, you will have to come back tomorrow.

Like Father, Like Son

When King Edward I of England was a teenager, he chose to side with his father's critics. His father, Henry III, refused to speak to his son once the immediate crisis was over, but he needed Edward as his heir, so eventually Edward became king.

When Edward's son, Edward Caernarvon, was young, he, too, chose to oppose his father, angering the king so that he refused to speak to his son, "exiling" him away from home (but not far). Here is what happened.

The young Edward had accompanied his father on military campaigns, even negotiating with Scottish leaders on the king's behalf. When his mother died and his father re-married (to Margaret, the sister of King {Philip[p IV of France), the young man got along with his stepmother and his two half-brothers that the king had with her. (Later, as king, he even gave them titles and financial support.)

But he was profligate in his ways. Even when he was made Prince of Wales in 1301 (shown in the illustration) and granted the earldom of Chester, giving him his own source of income through taxation, he spent too lavishly. He was criticized as being too much addicted to gambling, especially "pitch and toss" (which we now call "pitching pennies," in which players toss coins at a mark; the one whose coin lands nearest the mark wins all the coins). He was also criticized for sleeping late and keeping the company of harlots (curious, considering later accusations about his behavior with his close friend, Piers Gaveston).

The prince clashed with one of his father's closest fiends and royal treasurer, Bishop Walter Langton, over his financial support. The king sided with his treasurer (he later made Langton executor of his will), and the details of the clash were so serious that the prince and his companions were banished from the court and orders were given (on 14 June 1305) to the Exchequer to refuse any requests for funds by the prince. The precise nature of the clash with Langton is unconfirmed. One record states that the prince had trespassed on lands owned by the bishop and hunted deer; when found out, he abused and insulted Langton.

Would just an insult be enough for what turned into a six-month banishment and financial deprivation? It is possible: Sir William de Braose just a few months later was accused of "contumelious words" against royal judges during a court case, and was given a sentence that was said to be "similar to the king's son." So possibly King Edward and the courts took a very dim view of verbal assaults. There are also—and no one who has learned anything about Edward II would be surprised—hints that the original trespass involved the prince's companion, Piers Gaveston.

Was Gaveston such a bad influence that his presence would make things worse? If he were in the prince's household, he must be a person himself of some standing. Let's take a look at Piers Gaveston next time, and try to separate fact from fiction.

Edward Caernarvon

Edward Caernarvon (princes were named for the location of their birth) was born 25 April 1284 to Edward I and Eleanor, Countess of Ponthieu. Although their fourth son, his older brothers John and Henry died prior to Edward's birth, and Alfonso died a few months later. Edward senior had conquered Wales in the previous year, and there is speculation that he chose Caernarvon Castle for the birth to symbolically link Wales to the English royal family, making the younger Edward "their prince." He was given the title "Prince of Wales" in 1301, the first non-Welsh ruler to be called so.

His tutor was Sir Guy Ferre, who gave him a keen interest in horses, both riding and breeding. He also enjoyed hunting, and one of the first books on hunting, The Art of Venerye, was written by Edward's royal huntsman.

Edward's household had books in French and Latin, but we can't be certain he read and wrote those languages. He would have been raised speaking French, and for his coronation he chose to take the oath in French, although a Latin version was available.

He also took a great interest in music, and was a patron of musicians and entertainers during his reign. He enjoyed the Welsh crwth, a proto-violin, and as king sent one of his people, Richard the Rhymer, to learn how to play it. Contemporary authorities did not approve of his love of buffoonery, and Edward's later appointment of Walter Reynolds as an archbishop is said to be due to Reynolds' skill as an actor.

His youth, like that of his father, made some observers question whether he would make a good king. Also, like his father, he went through a period when he took sides in a problem, causing the king to refuse to speak to his son and heir. That dispute, and why King Edward was "forced" to start speaking to his son again, will be explained tomorrow.

Curing Disease

The Royal Touch was not just for scrofula, nor was it just a simple touch.

Epilepsy was another disease that would bring folk to the king for healing; and like scrofula, it was a disease whose symptoms were irregular and could end spontaneously. It was actually King John who started the practice of blessing rings on Easter Sunday and hand them out as a cure for epilepsy.

Speaking of handing things out, Kings Edward I, II, and III of England would give a gift of alms to anyone who traveled a long distance to see them (as well as tokens as part of the Royal Touch ritual). It was not a huge sum, but also not an amount you'd stick in your pocket and forget. Because records were kept of royal expenses and alms, those reigns have accurate data on how many people received alms.

We know, therefore, that the reigns of the Edwards averaged about 500 healing rituals per year. Edward I "healed" as many as 1736 in one high-yield year, whereas Edward III only touched 136 one year. Keep in mind that the Third spent a good amount of his reign attacking France during the Hundred Years War, so he wasn't always available at home. Edward II did not spend much of his time in battles, and there was a lot of variation in his annual healing numbers.

The process was also slowed down during Edward II's reign (1307 - 1327) because it was more formalized:

The sick individual was brought before the king and then kneeled in front of the monarch. The king touched the face and cheeks of the afflicted person while a chaplain announced that "He put his hand upon them, and he healed them." The chaplain’s words referred to a passage in the Gospel of Mark 16:18 in which Jesus, speaking to his disciples after the resurrection, suggests that the disciples will have healing powers. Many people believed that the disease was brought on by sin, so prayers were central to the ceremony. [link]

The afflicted would then be given a "touch piece," a gold coin that could be worn around the neck to continue to keep them healthy. The illustration shows the touch piece given by Henry VI (reigned 1422 - 1471). The generosity of the gold coin and the Royal Touch together would enhance the reputation of the king as well as reinforce the notion of divine authority.

So if Edward II wasn't away at war, he could have endeared himself to his people with lots of healings. What was he doing with his time? That's a complicated question, but we will see what we can do about it tomorrow.

"The Hands of the King...

...are the hands of a healer." This line from The Lord of the Rings sounds fantastical, but as a first-rate historian and medievalist, J.R.R.Tolkien knew well the idea that the laying on of hands by a king (or queen: that's Mary I of England in the illustration) could heal illness. This was supposedly possible because of their "divine right" as anointed kings.

The King's Touch, or Royal Touch, was the practice of laying on of hands by English and French monarchs that was believed to cure diseases, particularly the King's Evil, scrofula. Hippocrates thought scrofula was a disproportionate accumulation of phlegm.

Scrofula, a disease of the lymph nodes, is now called mycobacterial cervical lymphadenitis, and is associated with tuberculosis. It usually manifests as a painless swelling in the lymph nodes of the neck caused by infection. It almost disappeared in the second half of the 20th century, but the appearance of HIV/AIDS has caused a small resurgence.

Where did the Royal Touch start? A 16th-century physician thought it began with Clovis I (reigned 481 - 511) after he accepted Christianity. Many other origins are offered. King Philip I of France (1052 - 1108) was perhaps the first time a king's touch was requested to heal a stubborn disease, so the French say. King Henry I of England (1068 - 1135) was appealed to for the same reason, although some scholars believe Edward the Confessor (reigned until 1066) was the first. The French denied this, and claimed that it started with Henry in England only because he was imitating Philip. What we can say is that records under Edward I show the practice of a penny given to sufferers afterward was established by 1276, two years after Edward's arrival back in England as king. Some say this means it was probably introduced by Edward's father, the pious Henry III, who was also a huge fan of Edward the Confessor and might have patterned his behavior after that monarch and therefore—but let's just stop there because there's too much speculation to reconcile all the conflicting theories. The record of tokens handed out suggests that Edward "touched" about a thousand people a year.

Scrofula became known as the "King's Evil" because an appeal to the king was considered the best recourse. John Gaddesden (1280 - 1361) recommends it as treatment for scrofula and other skin diseases. Eventually, a special gold-plated coin would be given by the king to the sufferer to be worn around the neck to ward off the disease. The truth is, the disease rarely was associated with death, and often went into remission on its own, supporting the notion that the king's touch cured the patient.

The Royal Touch persisted into the Renaissance, even though there was plenty of evidence that it did not inevitably lead to a cure. The formula in France added the line Le roi te touche, Dieu te guérisse ("The King touches you, may God heal you"), taking the burden of healing off the king's shoulders (or hands) and placing the possible healing on God. Louis XIV of France touched 1600 people on Easter 1680. Voltaire wrote that a mistress of Louis XIV died of scrofula despite "being very well touched by the king." Louis XV stopped the practice by not calling sufferers to be touched at Easter 1739. Louis XVI touched 2400 at his coronation in 1775, and Charles X touched 121 at his coronation in 1825, but there are no records of the Royal Touch being used after that date.

But where does the word scrofula come from? That's a slightly trickier question that will lead us into sympathetic magic and the Doctrine of Signatures. That's for another day.