Second Baron's War Ends

Simon de Montfort was in control of London in April 1264. Northampton was under siege by supporters of King Henry, and Simon assembled his army to stop the royalists, but he was too late. Simon then went to Kent to besiege Rochester Castle, held in support of Henry by constable Sir Roger de Leybourne (1215–1271), whose father, also called Roger, was on the side of rebels in the First Barons' War.

Roger was originally on the side of Simon, but changed his mind when he heard of an alliance Simon had made.

Simon decided to make an ally of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, the Prince of Gwynedd. Wales was England's enemy, and the followers of Simon started to turn on him when he and Llywelyn made peace. The Welsh Marcher Lords, English nobles guarding castles along the Welsh border, were friendly with Henry's eldest son Edward, and rallied around Edward and the royalist cause.

Prince Edward's forces defeated several of Montfort's allies at the Warwickshire market town of Kenilworth, even though the rebels had been bolstered by Welsh forces. Simon was moving across the Severn to join his son's army, and saw an army approaching flying his son's banners. Edward had seized the banners at Kenilworth and was using them to fool the rebels.

They encountered each other at the Battle of Evesham when Simon—who was hemmed on three sides by the River Avon—realized too late that he had been fooled and attempted a foolish uphill charge against a superior force. Edward had appointed a dozen men to avoid direct fighting in the encounter and search specifically for Simon. Having been located, Simon was stabbed in the neck by Roger Mortimer, 1st Baron Mortimer. The royalists attacked the corpse, cutting off his head, ripping out his intestines, cutting off his testicles and hanging them on his nose, etc. His hands and feet were cut off and sent to various parts of England as a sign of the consequences of treason. (The illustration is of Simon's body being mutilated on the battlefield.)

Fighting continued, but eventually the royalists won. There are two follow-ups to offer: the Dictum of Kenilworth between Henry and the rebels, and the story of Simon's niece by marriage who was henry's daughter, Margaret of England. We'll cover Kenilworth tom arrow and Margaret the next day.

King of the Romans

Richard of Cornwall was only two years younger than his brother Henry, who became King of England. He rebelled against Henry a few times, using his wealth from Cornwall and Poitou to try to become king. When he was married to Isabel Marshal, a wealthy widow, he had even more money and power.

After Isabel's death, Richard married Sanchia of Provence, sister of Henry's wife, Eleanor. Eleanor was married to a king. Her sister Margaret was married to a king, Louis IX of race. Their sister Beatrice was married to a king, Charles of Sicily.

The Kingdom of Sicily had been offered to Richard by Pope Innocent IV, but Richard knew that taking it from Manfred would be difficult and too expensive, so he declined. Then, in 1257, Richard's golden opportunity to become king came along, and it was thanks to his new wife, Sanchia.

Germany was lacking a king. William of Holland (whose election was contested, prompting him to be called an "anti-king") died after a battle when he got stuck in the ice trying to cross a frozen river. That was in 1247.

Technically, the position that was open was "King of the Romans." That title was used by the King of East Francia from the time of Holy Roman Emperor Henry II (reigned 1002 - 1024). In the 11th century, East Francia started being called the Kingdom of Germany (Regnum Teutonicum). The title Romanorum Rex, "King of the Romans," was used to indicate the entitlement given by being named Holy Roman Emperor by a pope.

There were seven German electoral princes in the time we're discussing, and they got to choose their next king. Pope Alexander IV and Louis IX of France supported Alfonso X of Castile (his mother was descended from the Hohenstaufens, giving him a German claim). The family of Richard's wife Sanchia and Henry's wife Eleanor pushed for Richard. Since Louis' wife was also a family member, this could have made family gatherings awkward, but perhaps the family just wanted Sanchia to have a chance to be a queen, like all her sisters.

Richard gave gifts of money to the electors to win them over. One of the electors, King Ottokar II of Bohemia, was also a candidate, but as a strong ruler already, the other electors were not interested in giving him power in Germany. The ideal situation was to have a king who would not interfere with whatever the nobles wanted to do in their jurisdictions.

Four of the seven electors (including Ottokar, although he had not been offered a bribe) voted for Richard, and on 13 January 1257 Richard was crowned King of the Romans. Several weeks later, on 1 April, Alfonso X was declared King of the Romans by four electors when Ottokar changed his vote. Alfonso never went to Germany. Then Ottokar chose to support Richard, after all. (Alfonso in 1275 officially renounced any claim to the title.)

Richard visited Aachen to be crowned, but afterward made only three additional short visits to Germany. The important thing was that he could call himself king, and Sanchia was now a queen like her sisters.

It appeared that Richard was content now to be supportive of Henry and not usurp his title of king. Let's see what happened next for the two brothers.

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.

The Joust

The Joust was a specific kind of tournament, and was one of the few types of military contests that had to be on horseback and involved only two combatants at a time. This one-on-one duel involved two men, each mounted, riding at each other with lances, attempting to unseat the other or break their lance. In some cases, a wooden barrier was placed the length of the lists to prevent the horses from colliding.

In the 12th century, jousting was sometimes not allowed because it distracted from the excitement of the other events, especially the mêlée, but Edward II of England in 1309 banned all forms of tournament except the joust. For him, it was more exciting to watch than the Pas d'armes or Tupinaire or Quintain, easier to see than the Mêlée because the men were higher off the ground and there were only two, a bit safer because there was a specific goal.

Some people spoke out against any form of tournament. Pope Innocent II at Clermont forbade Christian burial for anyone killed in a tournament. He was all for warfare against the heathen, but did not want Christians endangering each other's lives. And tournaments could be dangerous; just a few posts back we learned of someone dying because of a tournament. Henry II imposed a ban on tournaments because knights traveling from far and wide to join one were indulging in harassment of the population along the way. His son Richard, however, loved fighting, and established six locations where they were permitted to hold tourneys (and established a fee structure—payable to the Crown—for those who wanted to hold them and participate).

Richard's brother, John, and John's son, Henry III, made jousting more difficult with restrictions that encouraged safety but limited the excitement. Some of the rules that developed over time were necessary, to help figure out who won. After a day of pairs of knights going against each other, the winners could be declared as follows:

1st place: unhorsing the opponent; extra if the horse falls down.
2nd place: breaking lances
3rd place: most striking of the opponent's visor (this was particularly dangerous, but got you points)
4th place: breaking the most spears

There were also rules that could disqualify you:

Striking a horse
Striking a man's back from behind him

You could also be penalized for breaking your spear on the opponent's saddle (a forbidden target).

Some of the last tournaments and jousts took place during the reign of Henry VIII, who used elaborate ones to celebrate momentous events, such as the birth of a son.

Next time, I want to talk about Pope Innocent II and his Second Lateran Council that forbade jousts and tournaments.

The Pope Steps In

Despite Hubert de Burgh's support of Henry III at the start of his minority reign, the two had fallen out and Hubert was in danger. Ultimately, a letter from the pope tried to resolve the situation.

Pope Gregory IX sent Henry a letter, chastising him for his treatment of Hubert who had been so loyal and helpful for so long. Henry did not want to disobey the pope: not only was he a faithful Christian, but his father, King John, had offered England as a vassal state to the papacy during his troubles, expecting that papal support would be enormously useful against his barons and France. Henry gave Hubert back his status as Earl of Kent, but only some of the lands he had formerly possessed.

In 1234, some of Hubert's enemies, including the king's former tutor, the French Peter des Roches, were dismissed from court (there was some anti-French feeling among the increasingly "English-oriented" Anglo-Norman country). This made Hubert's life even easier, until 1236, when the king found out about Richard de Clare.

Richard de Clare was the young Earl of Gloucester. In 1236 he was only 14 and the king's ward, but Henry had asked Hubert to raise him. While in Hubert's care, Hubert had married his daughter Margaret to Richard, although they were both children. This had been done without the king's blessing or his knowledge. The earldom of Gloucester was large and powerful, and Henry realized this alliance would potentially give more power to Hubert's family. Hubert's argument when called to court was that he was in sanctuary from the king's wrath at the time and had nothing to do with it. The king was ultimately convinced of Hubert's lack of involvement, but the marriage ended—we're not sure by annulment or Margaret's death. (Richard de Clare married Maud de Lacy, daughter of the Earl of Lincoln.)

Henry did not give up, however (we just don't know why he wanted so desperately to destroy Hubert). Hubert was accused by Henry of deliberately losing Poitou to the French, inappropriately seducing the Scottish princess who was his wife (his daughter Margaret's mother was Princess Margaret of Scotland, daughter of William the Lion and sister of Alexander II), and even attempting to assassinate Henry. Hubert's lawyer successfully defended him against all the charges. Hubert retired to his estates and stayed out of the public eye until his death on 12 May 1243. He had two sons from his first marriage, but they were not allowed to inherit the earldom, as it was limited to descendants of Hubert and his third wife, Margaret. They only had the one daughter.

In between those two was a second marriage, to the queen of England! That is a story worth telling next time.

Hubert de Burgh

When King John of England died on the night of 18/19 October 1216, he was in the middle of warring with his barons, who wanted more control over the country to be vested in them instead of the king. This left his heir, his nine-year-old son Henry, in danger. One of John's retainers, the Chief Justiciar Hubert de Burgh, raced to Henry's side and took him to safety among those loyal to John, potentially saving his life from the barons who might have wanted to set up a different dynasty.

We aren't sure of Hubert's origin, although there are guesses about minor landholders in Norfolk. He had a brother William who made a name for himself in Ireland, a brother Geoffrey who became Archdeacon of Norwich and Bishop of Ely, and a brother Thomas who became castellan of Norwich.

Hubert, who was born probably about 1170, entered John's service by 1198, and was chamberlain of the household, an ambassador to Portugal, a sheriff in the early 1200s of Dorset and Somerset, Berkshire and Cornwall, and later of the Welsh Marches. During this time he was granted manors and castles.

Sent to France in part of the unending wars between the two countries, he defended Poitou against King Philip II, holding the castle of Chinon against French forces for a year until he was finally captured and held from 1205 until 1207. While imprisoned in France, John gave his gifts of real estate away to other men whom John needed to placate or reward. Once Hubert returned to England, he began to acquire through John other lands.

In 1215, with hostility between John and his barons at their peak, Hubert was one of the men who urged John to sign the Magna Carta and end the conflict. Soon after, Hubert was made Chief Justiciar of England and Ireland, essentially the prime minister. He continued at time to manage military campaigns; it was Hubert who captured the flagship of Eustace, the pirate monk.

Then came John's death. and Hubert saving the young prince. Hubert was named regent to the new king, and took over managing the ongoing war against the barons. Besides the barons, France was using the strife in England as an opportunity to attack. Hubert's primary role at this time was defending Dover Castle. Its position on the cost made it the doorway to England, and French forces under Prince Louis laid siege to it. A decisive victory of the royal army against the barons at the Battle of Lincoln meant the royal army could now march to Dover. Louis gave up.

 

In 1227, Henry came of age and made Hubert governor of Rochester Castle, lord of Montgomery Castle, and created a new earldom, Kent. A year later Hubert was named Justiciar for life. Things were going well, but there were three men who saw his increasing power and did not trust it, despite his loyal service. Next time we will look at his fall from grace.

Illiteratus

Things seemed to be going well for Ralph Neville, the Bishop of Chichester and Lord Chancellor for life. He had a nice new manor on New Street, appointments that brought him revenues, he was reforming the way Chancery and records-keeping were managed, and the monks of Canterbury Cathedral elected him Archbishop of Canterbury on 24 September 1231. There was opposition to this, from an important roadblock: Pope Gregory IX. Gregory declared Neville illiteratus.

Now, the term wasn't used the same way as it is today. At the time it did not mean he couldn't read and write, just that he was "unlearned." Many important positions were appointed from the clergy, and clergy were often university trained. Neville was not. In fact, there's no reason to believe he ever intended to be educated or a priest: he started a royal clerk under King John and was ordained to legitimize his lucrative appointment as Bishop of Chichester (arms shown to the left). Stephen Langton, the Archdeacon of Canterbury, described Neville as a courtier instead of a true priest.

With Canterbury denied him*, he was still secure in his positions at Chichester and as Chancellor. Or was he? He had been granted, by the king, the right of exemption from seizure of his possessions if he fell out of favor. King Henry also agreed not to interfere with Neville's will (yeah, the king could say "Hey! You cannot bequeath that property to someone else; I gave it to you and I'll decide where it goes once you're dead!").

Henry decided, however, to take away the Chancellor position in 1236. We're not sure why, but perhaps the courtier did not appear to support the king in all things. When Hubert de Burgh (mentioned here and an even more significant supportive figure in Henry's life) fell out with the king and sought sanctuary, Henry wanted him dragged physically out of the church to face punishment. Neville opposed the king on this. Neville also was elected, by the cathedral chapter of Winchester, as Bishop of Winchester. Henry had wanted them to elect William of Savoy, the Bishop of Valence, who happened to be the uncle of Eleanor of Provence, Henry's queen. There may have been other arguments.

Neville argued with Henry that, since the chancellorship had been given to him by the Great Council during Henry's minority, only the Great Council had the authority to take it away. Henry was able to deprive Neville of possession of the Great Seal, but Neville retained the title Chancellor. In May 1242, however, Henry went to France, and the Great Seal needed a responsible holder for official documents, so it went back to Neville temporarily. Although Henry returned from France in September 1243, the Great Seal along with Neville's signature is found on some documents after that date.

Neville died in the first week of February 1244 in his palace on New Street and was buried in Chichester Cathedral. 

Kings giveth, and kings taketh away. The falling out with Hubert de Burgh would have shocked many, considering how much Henry owed him, including (possibly) his life! I'll dig into that relationship tomorrow.

*...and by the way, the next two appointments were also squashed by Gregory, preventing a true Archbishop of Canterbury until 1240

Ralph Neville

Ralph Neville is an example of a powerful figure in Medieval English administration whose personal details are little known. He was ordained on 21 April 1224, and if that ere his first step onto a public stage it would have been likely that he was born about 1200, or not much before. Ordination would also have required a special dispensation, because he was known to be illegitimate.

Ordination was not his first step into adulthood, however; he had been a known quantity for some time, and ordination was merely a formality so that he could be given more positions.

We do not know when he was born, but in 1207 he was already a royal clerk under King John (1166 - 1216), and by 1213 he was entrusted with the Great Seal, used to show royal approval of documents. The Great Seal is usually held by the Chancellor, but the chancellor at the time was Walter de Gray, who was also Archbishop of York (successor of another illegitimate cleric—this one the son of a king—whose story was told here and here). Walter was a steadfast supporter of John, and there was a reason for having the Seal given to another, but maybe I'll save that for his story some day.

Anyway, Nevile was moving up in the ranks. In 1214 he was appointed to Chancery through the effort of one of King John's favorites and his son Henry's tutor, Bishop of Winchester Peter des Roches. After John's death, Neville remained at court, still holding the Great Seal as vice-chancellor under Richard Marsh. Marsh had been appointed Bishop of Durham and was off dealing with diocesan affairs, leaving Neville effectively running the administration of the kingdom, since King Henry was only ten years old.

Keep in mind that a bishop had access to revenues from all the lands in the diocese, so appointing someone a bishop was a greta gift—even if they did not do anything to administer to their diocese. Neville was ordained in 1224 so that he could properly be Bishop of Chichester, to which he had been appointed two years earlier! He, however, remained in London with the king, often ignoring requests to come to Chichester and manage disputes there.

His own appointment to Lord Chancellor came on 17 May 1226, with the promise that it would be for life. He started reforms in Chancery, evolving it into its own governmental department and not just a division of the king's household. The contemporary Matthew Paris praised him for fairness and transparency in his office.

He built a grand manor, the Bishop of Chichester's Inn, to the west of London proper on a street called New Street (but now Chancery Lane), a short walk north of the Domus Conversorum. All was going well, until he was elected Archbishop of Canterbury, the prime ecclesiastical position in England. His journey hit a speed bump in the name of Pope Gregory IX. I'll explain tomorrow.

The Assize of Bread (and Ale)

Bread was so important to daily life, as food and even as tableware. Not every household had the time and resources to make its own bread, and had to turn to bakers for their loaves, of which there were several in any decent-sized town.

A problem for those who did not bake their own was the fluctuation of prices. This was not always the fault of the baker, however. Harvests were variable, and the price of grain rose and fell with the weather. There were cheaper breads, of course, but their prices fluctuated as well. Bakers might also indulge in what our modern era calls "shrinkflation," the reduction of the amount of goods for the same prior price, or "skimpflation," the use of less-desirable material (oats mixed in with the wheat, for example)  to make a sold good.

These changing prices affected everyone, including royal households who consumed far more than a typical family. King Henry II of England and his son John both established rules for the price of bread to make their own households run smoothly and inexpensively. It wasn't until John's son, Henry III, that a nationwide pricing structure was declared about 1266. It was initiated by bakers in Coventry who wanted standards established to save them from accusations of unfairness or price-gouging. This was the Assize of Bread and Ale.

The immediate object of the Assize was to fix the size of the loaf of bread. Whatever might be the fluctuations of the corn-market*, loaves were sold at a farthing**, or a half-penny or a penny; the size of these loaves would therefore vary according to the price of corn, becoming smaller as the price of corn rose and larger as it fell.[link]

About the Feast of St, Michael (29 September) the results of the year's grain harvest could be judged, and the prices/sizes could be determined for the next 12 months. 

This Assize was the longest-lasting law of its kind, and was not significantly amended until the Bread Acts of 1822!

As for ale, since it relied on grain:

when a quarter of wheat was sold for three shillings, or three shillings and four-pence, and a quarter of barley for twenty pence or twenty-four pence, and a quarter of oats for fifteen pence, brewers in cities could afford to sell two gallons of ale for a penny, and out of cities three gallons for a penny; and when in a town...three gallons are sold for a penny, out of a town they may and ought to sell four. [Long, George, ed. (1833) "Ale", The Penny Cyclopædia]

The Assize did not just establish prices. In order to enforce the Assize, regulatory structures were put in place with fees and penalties. Manorial lords were to hold tri-weekly sessions to enforce the statutes. Also, since the weight of bread was linked to its price in pence, half-pence, and quarter-pence, it was important that the pence itself was a reliable and expected value.

Why would it not be? Well, debasement of coinage was definitely a technique throughout history for getting more "bang from a buck" so to speak, and I'll discuss those dishonest ways next time.

*corn-market =remember that "corn" referred to any grain
**farthing = quarter of a penny

Little Saint Hugh of Lincoln

The murder of a child is a particularly heinous act that tugs at the heart strings. In the eyes of society, the murderer of a child must be a particularly horrible individual. The death of a small English boy in 1255 created a story that stuck in the cultural memory right up until modern times.

On 31 July 1255, nine-year-old Hugh disappeared in Lincoln. A month later, on 29 August, his body was discovered in a well. The search for the murderer was on, and attention turned to the segment of society that was often blamed for criminal acts: Jews.

John of Lexington, brother to the Bishop of Lincoln, imprisoned a local Jew named Copin, accusing him of the murder and offering him amnesty from execution in exchange for a confession. John supposedly convinced King Henry III to this amnesty deal, even though there was no evidence that Copin actually committed the deed. Henry arrived in Lincoln a month after the arrest of Copin. He ordered Copin executed, and then had 90 randomly selected Jews arrested and taken to the Tower of London for an investigation and trial about the murder. Eighteen of the Jews refused to participate in the trial, claiming it was a sham, and were hanged for their refusal.

As for the remaining Jews: a Dominican friar helped free one, John, who had converted to Christianity. The remainder were condemned to execution, but Dominicans—no doubt understanding that it was highly unlikely that there was actual guilt involved—pleaded for their lives and they were released.

Matthew Paris created a colorful, detailed, and wholly fictitious scene about the death:

This year [1255] about the feast of the apostles Peter and Paul [27 July], the Jews of Lincoln stole a boy called Hugh, who was about eight years old. After shutting him up in a secret chamber, where they fed him on milk and other childish food, they sent to almost all the cities of England in which there were Jews, and summoned some of their sect from each city to be present at a sacrifice to take place at Lincoln, in contumely and insult of Jesus Christ. For, as they said, they had a boy concealed for the purpose of being crucified; so a great number of them assembled at Lincoln, and then they appointed a Jew of Lincoln judge, to take the place of Pilate, by whose sentence, and with the concurrence of all, the boy was subjected to various tortures. They scourged him till the blood flowed, they crowned him with thorns, mocked him, and spat upon him; each of them also pierced him with a knife, and they made him drink gall, and scoffed at him with blasphemous insults, and kept gnashing their teeth and calling him Jesus, the false prophet. And after tormenting him in diverse ways they crucified him, and pierced him to the heart with a spear. When the boy was dead, they took the body down from the cross, and for some reason disemboweled it; it is said for the purpose of their magic arts.

There had been previous "martyrs" whose deaths had been blamed on Jews, but the case of Hugh had royal involvement which elevated it to legendary status. A shrine was built at Lincoln Cathedral to the little martyr and "little saint," drawing visitors and donations. This may well have been Lexington's motivation for turning the child's death into a martyrdom at Jewish hands, acting on his brother's behalf, to increase traffic and money to Lincoln.

Why did Paris' description involve so many Jews? Why were 90 Jews rounded up by the king? Why was it assumed that there was more involvement than just a single murderer? To understand that, we have to talk about one of the most ridiculous accusations against medieval Jewry, the belief in "blood libel." See you tomorrow.

Financing a War

When Simon de Montfort wanted to kick off the Second Barons War, he needed funding. One of the easiest ways for most medieval Europeans to free up money was to force a cancellation of debts to the Jews. Since many of these debts were owed by Montfort's baronial friends, their gratitude would extend to supporting him against King Henry III.

One of the barons' demands of Henry was that he write off the Jewish debts. This he would not do: Henry used occasional tallages (taxes) on the Jews to fund his own endeavors. His healthy balance sheet needed Jews to be able to collect what was owed them so that he could access take it.

In April of 1264, Montfort encouraged his followers and others to begin widespread persecution and even execution of the Jews, destroying their records of debt. One of the main centers of the Jewish population in England was in Canterbury, where about 20 Jewish households accounted for about 100 or so Jews. There had been, in fact, a widespread persecution of the Jews a couple years earlier, when lay and clerical citizens attacked and burned some of their houses, although no one was killed that time.

A member of Montfort's rebellion, the brutal Gilbert de Clare, occupied Canterbury and instigated "The Massacre of the Jews." An unknown number of Jews were killed and their property looted, and several Jewish women were forcibly baptized. Any remaining Jews fled Canterbury. The most prominent member of the Canterbury Jewry was Solomon, son of Josce. When he returned in 1265 (he fled abroad during the troubles), Henry III returned his property to him.

Montfort's son Henry and the 6th Earl of Derby, Robert Ferrers, led a pogrom that killed all the Jews in Worcester. Montfort's son Simon led the attacks in Winchester. In London, a chief Montfort supporter, John Fitz John, led the attacks and is said to have killed two of the leading Jewish figures with his bare hands; a total of 500 Jews in London were killed. In 1264 and 1265, attacks were made in Lincoln and Cambridge, and financial records were destroyed.

Anti-Jewish sentiment was always bubbling just under the surface, looking for a reason to burst forth and lead to atrocities. There were often single incidents that were blamed on the Jews. Even if that blame was proven false, the ill feeling left its mark and was ready to be invoked to justify later attacks. One such that stayed in the public consciousness and could not be expunged was the story of little Saint Hugh of Lincoln, which I will share with you tomorrow.

War Comes to Oxford

By the early 1260s, Oxford had become a place where scholars went to teach and learn. Violence was not unknown, as conflicts between students and townspeople were common. Town vs. Gown is not only a common phrase to express this conflict, it was the very first post in this blog.

Oxford became a center for another conflict, however, at the same time that the colleges of Balliol and Merton were beginning. This conflict was a little more widespread and is called the Second Barons War.

The First Barons War was a rebellion against King John and led to the Magna Carta in 1215. John's son Henry III had his own troubles with the barons who were always looking for ways to increase their own power and reduce the king's authority. Simon de Montfort, the 6th Earl of Leicester, in April 1263 called fellow barons to meet him at Oxford where they discussed rebellion against Henry's policies.

Oxford was a significant meeting place, because a few years earlier it was the site of the Provisions of Oxford, a series of reforms forced on Henry in 1258 in exchange for the barons agreeing to shore up the royal treasury (Henry had depleted it fighting in Sicily on behalf of the pope). The barons and their armies marched on London and trapped Henry in the Tower, taking him prisoner. Montfort took over the government, but his authority did not last long and Henry escaped.

Henry reached out to Louis IX of France to arbitrate. Simon de Montfort agreed to this. Louis declared the Provisions of Oxford annulled in January 1264. Henry prepared for the inevitable breakdown of negotiations and took his forces to Oxford (more centrally located than London) and made it his military headquarters. On 12 March in 1264 he suspended all teaching until Michaelmas (29 September).

Montfort, wishing to make sure he had funds to fight a war, did what many medieval nobles did: he made sure people would have money and be grateful to give it to him by eliminating their cash debts. He did this by attacks against Jews, the moneylenders, and therefore ensuring that debts would not have to be repaid. Let us go into some of the specific atrocities tomorrow.

Henry's Statute of Jewry

St. Augustine of Hippo (354 - 430) was one of the most influential writers in Christianity in its first few centuries. He believed that Jews should be tolerated by Christians because God chose them for a special purpose. Through the years, however, hostility to the Jews grew; they were made scapegoats for problems and accused of many horrible acts.

Despite this hostility, Jews created communities all over the world. The illustration shows Jewish communities in medieval England. King Henry III instituted repressive laws intended to segregate and oppress Jews. The Statute of Jewry in 1253 had 13 articles, some of which are listed here:

Article One: Jews could live in England provided that they serve the king in some manner. (This might include financial support or civil service.)

Article Two stated that no new synagogues could be constructed.

Article Three: Jews in synagogues must keep their voices low while praying so that no one else could hear them.

Article Four: Jews must donate money to their local Christian church.

Article Five banned Christians from working for Jews or living in Jews' houses.

Article Six banned Jews from eating meat during Lent.

Article Seven: Jews may not publicly dispute the Christian faith.

Article Eight banned romantic relations between Christians and Jews.

Contemporary historian Matthew Paris followed the Augustinian view of Jews, and did not approve of Henry's policies regarding them, which mirrored the papal view at the time (Innocent IV). Through Paris we discover that antipathy toward the Jews was not universal. His tolerant attitude is tested by relating incidents of supposed "blood libel" (the notion that Jews killed Christians in order to use their blood in Jewish rituals), but he has sympathy for their oppression and the financial extortion brought upon them by kings and others who saw Jews as a source of easy money. Through Matthew Paris we can see that the medieval attitude toward Jews was not monolithic.

I want to relate another article of the Statute, however, Article Nine. Article Nine commanded every Jew to wear a badge conspicuously. The yellow Star of David forced upon Jews in Germany during World War II is a familiar image. It turns out, however, that the "yellow badge" has a long history stretching back even before Henry III, but that's a story for tomorrow.

Matthew Paris

Matthew Paris (c.1200 - 1259) was a Benedictine monk at the Abbey of St. Albans, known to us for his numerous illustrated written works. We do not know why his surname was "Paris"; we have no record of him studying or living there, although given the era in which he lived it is not surprising that he wrote in either Latin or Norman French.

He was an Englishman who did get sent to Norway once to reform a Benedictine monastery on the island of Nidarholm. This gave him an opportunity to be an eyewitness to events surrounding King Haakon IV. His status as an eyewitness to history of his time is what makes him so valuable (although we are sure bias crept into some of his work).

His major work was the Chronica Majora, borrowing from Roger of Wendover's Flores Historiarum, but adding his own observations from 1235 on. An abridged version, his Historia Anglorum covers the years 1070 through 1253. There is a manuscript version which also includes the final part of the Chronica Majora covering the years 1254-1259, all in Paris's handwriting except for a last entry making note of Paris's death and having an illustration of him on his deathbed.

All the other illustrations in his writings are by him, and he had decent skill at drawing. Seen here is the most detailed map of four he produced. Another, showing the trip from London to Rome with sketches of some towns along the way, can be seen here. A picture of a beheading is here.

Paris lived while Henry III was King of England, and records many events from his reign. Paris and Roger of Wendover relate their concern about the increasing percentage of (French) foreigners coming to England. Paris and Henry met in 1236 and kept in touch, but Paris did not approve of the direction the reign was going and his account of Henry's actions is often unflattering.

One of Henry's actions that Paris might have approved (I say might)—and the modern world would certainly condemn—is Henry's "Statute of Jewry." I'll tell you about that next time.

Henry III's Troubles

Henry III's most loyal and powerful supporter was William Marshal, but William's son was not of the same mind. Richard Marshal (1191 - 1234) was William's second son, and became the 3rd Earl of Pembroke on 6 April 1231.

Henry inherited not just a crown from his father, King John, but also a country where the ranks below that of king demanded more authority and autonomy. Magna Carta was not enough, and civil unrest between the crown and less-loyal factions was a constant threat. There were also smaller conflicts that erupted into larger conflicts whenever the king took sides.

The Bishop of Winchester, Peter Des Roches, had been an important figure in Henry's youth, but in 1233 he demanded a manor be returned to a friend of his, Peter de Maulay, from Gilbert Basset, who currently held it due to earlier strife. Henry supported the bishop; Basset resisted; Henry called Basset a traitor; Basset fled to southern Wales where Richard Marshal held lands; Basset had been a friend of Richard's older brother, William, who had been the 2nd Earl of Pembroke after their father. Richard felt he should shelter and support his brother's old friend, so that's what he did.

This was a tense situation. Henry did not want to alienate Richard, and a date was sent to discuss the matter face-to-face in Gloucester, but Richard did not trust that Henry might not use the event to arrest him, so he refused to meet. Henry sent the Bishop of St. Davids to threaten Richard that his relationship with the king was in danger of being cut off. Meanwhile, the king's bailiffs demanded that one of Richard's castles, Usk Castle, be surrendered to them, with which his garrison at Usk complied.

Richard probably did not want to appear to be in rebellion against the king, but when Basset decided to make a cavalry raid across England, he was forced to act. He decided to stick with his original support of Basset. Richard allied with Prince Llywelyn ab Iorwerth of Gwynedd, and quickly seized Usk and other castles. They continued to Monmouth, where Baldwin III, Count of Guînes, came out to fight. The illustration above is from historian Matthew Paris, showing Richard unhorsing Baldwin.

Richard did not have enough forces to go as far as London and challenge the king. Meanwhile, Henry did not want to commit too many forces to deal with Richard, and hoped for a peaceful settlement. A truce with France was coming to a close, and Henry feared using up troops at home in a rebellion when they might be needed on the continent to defend English-held territory there. An attempt at peace on 1 April 1234 negotiated by Templars failed, and a fight broke out during which Richard was wounded. He succumbed to his injuries on 15 April, and the rebellion died with him.

I was going to tell next about one of Henry's policy decisions that the modern world would condemn, but I feel the need to take a side trip to Matthew Paris, whose work has been mentioned several times throughout this blog but has never been given his own entry. That's for tomorrow.

King Henry III

When King John died, his son Henry (1207 - 1272) was only nine years old. It was 1216 and in the middle of the First Barons' War. Even though the Magna Carta had been signed the year before, giving more power to those who were not king, the barons still had issues with the way government was run.

Fortunately, William Marshall led the royal forces, defeating the rebel barons. John on his deathbed had asked William to become Henry's guardian. William Marshall was an obvious choice: he had been loyal to the crown for generations. Afterward, a regency government needed to be created to aid the young king. William asked Bishop of Winchester Peter des Roches to help guide Henry. He had been Henry's tutor since Henry was five.

The papal legate to England, Cardinal Guala Bicchieri, had declared the war against the barons to be a religious crusade, and threw his support to Henry, also making sure the ties between England and the papacy were strong. (Henry's father had declared England a papal fiefdom in order to gain the pope's total support.) Henry himself "took up the cross" and declared himself a crusader, giving him special protection from the pope.

Henry's authority as a king was somewhat restored through the efforts of William, Hubert de Burgh (mentioned here and here), and Peter des Roches, who was chosen to perform the coronation (seen here in a 13th century depiction). There were problems, however.: much of the civil structure across the country had collapsed during the war. The network of sheriffs who collected taxes had fallen apart.

Rebel barons (and even some loyalist ones) were ignoring the crown's demands for taxes, some building unapproved castles (the king had the right to approve castles, since they might be used in defense against him). These "adulterine" (unapproved) castles were a larger problem during The Anarchy.

Wales was always threatening rebellion. Henry finally resolved it by making the prince Llywelyn his justiciar (chief political officer) in Wales, underlining the crown's need to compromise over its ability to conquer.

Henry adopted Edward the Confessor as his patron saint. A few times that he planned to go on Crusade were foiled when he had to stay and deal with uprisings in his lands, especially those on the continent, such as Gascony. 

His reign was long and troubled, and I'll talk about it more very soon, but first we have to focus on his most steadfast support, William Marshall, and the troubles after William died. See you tomorrow.

Quicklime

There was an actual medieval profession of lime burner, who burned calcium-rich minerals such as limestone, chalk, marble, or even sea shells. This was done to produce quicklime, which had a lot of useful properties. Dying, tanning leather, making soap, producing fertilizers, concrete—all used calcium oxide, called "quicklime."

The name, first seen as quyk lym in the late 1300s, comes from Latin calx viva, "lime quick"—using "quick" in the older sense of "living" because it was such an active substance. The ancient world discovered its usefulness for mortar (after being mixed with water to make a slurry). Limestone blocks of the pyramids have quicklime plaster. Rome used quicklime for construction extensively, and it is even found in the Great Wall of China.

The Ancient World also used it as a weapon in warfare. Powdered quicklime could be catapulted at enemies; its irritability in a person's eyes made them easy prey when the attacker engaged. Enough quicklime coming into contact with enough water could cause severe burns. King Henry III of England's (1216 - 1272) navy destroyed a French fleet by blinding the sailors with quicklime. (This was always a perilous gambit, since the wind might blow the power back to you.)

In the Middle Ages, when coal mining became cheaper and more widespread in the 12th century, burning to make quicklime was easier. It was used as mortar, plaster, for floors, and in frescoes.

One mis-use of quicklime in the Middle Ages was with corpses: it was thought to speed up decomposition, so sprinkling quicklime liberally when one needed a mass grave (after warfare, or in some responses to the Bubonic Plague) was thought to be efficient. It was also supposed to "sterilize" cesspits and counteract diseases they might engender. The truth is, however, that quicklime is actually a preservative; small amounts are sometimes used in flour to increase its acidity and act as a preservative and a leavener. Quicktime can cover the stench of decomposition, which may be why people thought it "got rid of the corpse" faster.

For many years I have read how Roman concrete became harder and more durable over time, defying logic. Very recently it was discovered that quicklime was the reason for its "self-healing" nature; here's a link to learn more.

I wanted to include a link to the reference above to Henry III, and I've discovered that I have mentioned him many times over 1263 blog posts, but have never given him his own entry. I'll will fix that oversight next time.

"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.

Edward I — Civil Warrior

The future King Edward I (pictured here with his wife Eleanor and showing his reported blepharoptosis, drooping left eye) did not always support his father, the current King Henry III. Henry's barons were looking for a restoration and extension of Magna Carta, reducing the powers of the Crown.

Edward was sympathetic to some of the barons' desires for reform; at least, he sided with them for a time, possibly just looking to accelerate his accession to the throne. Henry prevailed against them, however, and his statements at the time show that he felt Edward had come under bad influence, and father and son were eventually reconciled.

When Simon de Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester, led the barons in open rebellion, the Second Barons' War* (1264 - 1267) saw father and son working together. The barons wanted a council of barons to make decisions, not the king's favorites; not an awful idea, and Montfort did intend to broaden Parliament to include commoners, but their other "needs" were questionable. For one thing, Montfort's sons and supporters massacred hundreds of Jews in Worcester, Winchester, Lincoln, Cambridge, and Canterbury in order to eliminate debts owed to them.

Grievances against Henry were not without merit, given his increasing demand for taxes. Some of these demands had nothing to do with running England: for instance, he needed funds to attack Sicily on behalf of Pope Innocent IV.

Reformers versus royalists met at the Battle of Lewes in May 1264, at which Henry III was captured by Montfort's forces when Edward left his father's side to pursue some retreaters. Montfort took charge of government for about a year, but his governmental changes did not sit well with all of his followers: the nobles with him did not approve of his attempt to give power to commoners in Parliament. Loyalties shifted, and a year after Lewes, Edward's now superior forces defeated and killed Montfort at the Battle of Evesham.

Edward acquitted himself well as a leader of the royal forces to win his father's freedom, and although his earlier empathy with the reformers and Montfort could easily have led him to accept Montfort's reforms and become the next king (although with less executive and legislative power), he stayed true to his father's rule.

With order restored and the relationship between father and son on firm footing, it was time for Edward to prove himself in other ways. When he was 29 years old, he pledged to go on Crusade. This Ninth Crusade (1271 - 1272, sometimes called "Lord Edward's Crusade") is known not only as an extension of the Eighth Crusade, but also as the last Crusade ever actually to reach the Holy Land. But that's a topic for next time.

*The First Barons' War was alluded to here.

Edward I — The Child

When Henry III's eldest son was born on 18 June 1239, he gave him an unusual name. Edward was an Anglo-Saxon name, in a court that spoke Norman French. Henry, however, was a great fan of the reputation of Edward the Confessor and celebrated his feast day (Edward had been canonized in 1161) lavishly.

Medieval biographer Matthew Paris reports that the joy at the heir's birth turned sour for some, as Henry made it clear that the messengers sent throughout the realm to announce the birth were supposed to return laden with gifts for the occasion.

Kings and queens did not raised their own children, and Edward was ensconced in his own chamber at Windsor before the end of that summer, and put in the care of Sybil de Cormeilles, who had been Queen Eleanor's midwife and her husband, Hugh Giffard. He also had two wet nurses, Alica and Sarah; the "staff" for the royal babe was rounded out by Walter de Day, a clerk appointed to assist Giffard.

Because it is good for children to have playmates, Edward was joined by a cousin (whose mother died in 1240), two sons of a crossbowman in the king's service, and the son of one of Henry III's knights, Nicholas de Molis.

In October 1242, when Edward was three years old, his father ordered the constable of Windsor to provide two tuns* of good wine for the children, because he had heard that they had no good wine to drink. Also that year the sheriff of Gloucester was ordered to procure 15 lampreys to be sent one by one to the prince's "household." Scarlet robes with fur trim followed for Edward and his one-year-younger sister Margaret, and saddles made with two seats, so they could be taken on rides.

Edward grew tall and athletic, ultimately reaching 6'2" and earning the nickname "Longshanks"; nevertheless, he was frequently ill in his youth. In 1246 he was so ill while the whole family was traveling that his mother stayed with him for three weeks at the abbey where they were housed. The following year Henry asked all religious houses to pray for his health when he fell ill yet again.

We know nothing of his education, but he of course spoke French. He had some knowledge of Latin and could speak at least some English. Whether he could read or write is unknown; he would have had scribes for all his thoughts and proclamations. It was more important that he learn martial skills and knowledge of politics. He was armored and weaponed at the age of 17 for his first tournament in 1256, and remained unscathed despite reports of many injuries. It is uncertain whether his skill or his opponents' respect for his status won that day.

His first years were financed by the Exchequer, but eventually he would be granted the revenues from lands the king held. One of his first grants was the Duchy of Gascony, although he gained no revenue because the 6th Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, had been made its governor.

The Song of Lewes, a Latin poem celebrating Simon de Montfort's victory against Henry and Edward at the Battle of Lewes, refers to Edward as a leopard. It was not meant to be complimentary, which I will explain in the next post.

*A tun was the equivalent of four hogsheads; a hogshead equalled 63 gallons.