The Judgement and Death of Roger d’Amory (part 2 of 2)

Below are three copies of the Judgement after Boroughbridge (for the context of which, see the previous post).  The first is that passed against Roger d'Amory, the second is an amalgamation of those passed against two different men, the third the generic one from the last folio of the Fineshade manuscript. Following all three is a translation for the Fineshade version - all three are very similar, and the interest lies mostly in the comparison.  The first two are transcribed by me from the Parliamentary Writs (Record Commission, 1830), II, ii, Appendix, pp. 261-267.  The third is my transcription from the manuscript, but I differ little from Haskins' edition (Speculum 4 (1937): 509-511).

The judgement against d'Amory
The judgements against Francis de Aldham and Bartholomew de Ashburnham
The Fineshade version
Translation


1. Roger d’Amory (PW p. 261).
Square brackets are editorial insertions in the Writs; underlining is my expansion of their abbreviations, which follow the manuscripts. Note that d'Amory's judgement uniquely contains a small addendum in which his execution is postponed - see yesterday's post.


Tenor judicii super Rogerum Damory redditi patet in sequenti.

Pur ceo qe vous Roger Damory homme lige notre Seignour le Roy countre votre fay homage & ligeaunce, faucement & traitorousement alastes en Gales ove banner desplye, Chastels & Villes robastes & preiastes, & preistes sa Ville & soun Chastel de Gloucestre & ylumastes sa Ville de Briggenorth & ileok tuastes ses gentz & robastes ses liges gentz & preyastes le pays par my la terre ou vous estes aleez a feer de gwerre en estruaunt soun pople taunqe vous venistes al Chastel notre Seignour le Roi a Tykehalle & ileoqes asigeastes le dit Chastel ove baner desplie com enemy notre Seignor le Roi & du Realme, & la tuastes & nauverastes ses liges gentz, & de illeoqes alastes en la cumpaignye des traytours atteyntz Thomas jadys Counte de Lancastre & Umfrey jadis Counte de Hereford tauntqe a Burtone sour Trente & illeoqes arestutes le gentz notre Seignour le Roi qil ne poient le pount passer, vous armez ove baner displie come tretour & enemy encountre votre lige Seignour & encountre votre fey homage & ligeaunce, & la tuastes & nauverastes ses liges gentz. Et puis [vous] com traytour & enemy notre Seignour le Roi aperceivaunt la venue le Roi forciblement alumastes la Ville de Bourtone, et vous meistes en chaump en batailles ove vos baners desplies attendaunt votre liege Seignour davoir combatoutz ove lui si vous & les autres traytours ussez eou power. Et quant vois veistes la sarraye & forcible venue votre Seignour le Roi lige & des [ses] altres batailles, les quels vous ne osietz attendre ne ne poiez arester e puys tournastes le dos & fuistes dever le North derobeaunt le pays devaunt vous com traytour & robeour tauntqe vous venistes a Tuttebiri.  Et si vous Roger ussez eou a ceo la force & le power le quels traysons, arsons, homicides & roberies chyvaches ove baner desplye & sount notories a Countes Barouns & a altres gentz petiz & grauntz de soen Realme ; agarde notre Seignour le Roi de soun real power & recorde, par quei ceste Court agarde qe pur la traysoun soiez traynez & pur les homicides arsons & roberies pendutz; mes Roger pur ceo qe notre Seignour le Roi vous ad en temps moult amez & fuistes de sa meygne & prives de lui & avez sa nyece esposee, notre dit Seignour le Roi de sa grace & de sa Realte met en respit execucioun de cel jugement a sa volunte.



2. a: Fraunceys de Aldeham & Bartholomeu de Assheburneham. b: Bartholomeu de Assheborneham alone (PW 266-67).
Single square brackets [a|b] indicate differences between the two versions. Double square brackets [[]] are square brackets present in PW. Differences of spelling and abbreviation not noted - where there is a difference, b is used.
NB: there are copies also for Henry de Wilyngtonne & Henry de Mounfort (262); another against B. de Ashburnham (263); Henry Tyeys (264); and Bart. de Badlesmere (265), which adds that his head will be “mys outre la porte de la Ville de Caunterburez pur doner ensaumple as autres qe il nenpreignent tieles traysouns & mauvestes come vous avetz faitz” (“set outside the gates of the City of Canterbury to give example to others that they may not be infected by such treasons and evil as you have done”).


Por ceo qe vous [Fraunceys de Aldeham & vous Bartholomeu de Assheburneham| Bartholomeu de Assheborneham] homme lige nostre Seignur le Roi [ |,] [countre|encountre] vostre foi, homage & ligeaunce [ |,] faussement & tretrousement preistes sa Ville & son Chastel de Gloucestre [ |,] & allumastes sa Ville de Breggenorth & illuqes tuastes [ces|ses] gentz [ |,] & robbastes [ces|ses] liges gentz & preyastes le paiis parmy la terre [ |,] ou vous estes alez a foer de guerre[,| ] tancqe vous venistes au Chastel le Roi a Tikehill[ |,] & illuqes assegeastes le Chastel, ove banere desplye, come enemy du Roi & du Roialme [ |,] & naufrastes & tuastes les liges gentz nostre Seignur le Roi[, &|.  Et] [de illoqes|dilluqes] alastes en la compaignie des treitres atteyntz Thomas jadis Counte de Lancastre & Humfrei jadis Counte de Hereforde , tancqe a Burtonne sur Trente [ |,] & illuqes arrestustes les gentz le Roi[ |,] les queux ne poeynt le pount passer, ove bannere desplaie come tretour & enemy encontre vostre lige Seignur le Roi, vostre foi, homage & ligeaunce, & naufrastes & tuastes illuqes ses liges gentz[, et|.  Et] puis vous & les autres tretours & enemys le Roi apparceyvaunt la venue le Roi afforcement allumastes la Ville de Bourtonne, & vous meistes en chaump en batailles[ |,] ove banneres desplayez[ |,] attendant vostre Seignur lige[ |,] davoir combatuz ove luy, si vous & les autres tretours eussez eu le poer[, &|.  Et] quant vous veistes la forcible venue vostre lige Seignur [,| ] & [de ces|ses] batailles [le queux| ] vous ne [ |les] osiez attendre[,| ] ne ne poiez arrester; tournastes le dos & fuystes vers le Northe[ |,] derobbaunt le paiis devant vous come [treitours & robbours,|tretour] tancqe vous venistes au Pount de Burghe, ou vous [trovastes|tournastes] les liges gentz le Roi[,| ] eanz son pleyn poer [,| ] a lever le poeple [ |,] & de arester les treitours & les enemys [,|.] [&|Et] vous & les autres enemys & treitres illuqes assemblastes a eux [,| ] ove banneres desplaiez [ |,] & aucuns des gentz le Roi tuastes [,| ] & aucuns naufrastes [,| ] ou vous & les autres traitors de vostre faus acord & covyne feustes desconfitz & aucuns tuez [,| ] & vous aucuns [autres| ] des enemys pris, & les autres senfuyrent, issint qe en vous ne demorra poynt [ |,] qe vous ne eussez outree vostre Seignur lige a Bourtonne & pris ses liges gentz eyauntz son pleyn poer a Pount de Borghe, si vous eussez [eu|a ceo] la force [les|& le poer.  Les] queux treisouns, arsouns, homicides [ |,] robberies, chevaucheez ove bannere desplaie sont notoires as Countes [,|& as] Barouns & [ |a] autres grauntz & petitz de son Roiaume. Et nostre Seignur le Roi [&|de] son real poer le record[,|;] pur quoi agarde ceste Court, qe pur la traisoun soiez traynez & pur les robberies & homicides penduz.



3. Fineshade manuscript version: edited transcript
The Fineshade manuscript is a single quire, being one of the booklets contained within BL Cotton Cleopatra D IX - the third of five. Cotton appears to have bound those five together in the 1610s. This is, properly speaking, another manuscript, added a few years after the composition of the rest of the quire – a single leaf, written lengthways and attached to the main Fineshade manuscript along the spine. It is written in an official hand, and appears to be one of the many copies of the 1322 judgement that were re-issued in 1325, as a warning to those who were, by that time, becoming restless again. For this theory George Sayles, “The Formal Judgement on the Traitors of 1322”, Speculum 16 (1941), 57-63.
Paragraph breaks are mine. Line breaks in the ms are indicated with /.

Pur ceo qe vous . j . homme lige nostre seignur le Roi , contre vostre foi homage , e ligeaunce , fausement e treiturousement / pristes sa ville e son chastel de Gloucestre , e aluminastes sa ville de Briggenorthe, e illuqes tuastes ses gentz e robastes / ses liges gentz , e preiastes le pais parmi la terre ou vous estoiez alez a faire de guere , tant que vous venistes au chastel / le Roi de Tykille, e illoqes assegastes le chastel oue baner desplere comme enemi du Roi e du Roialme , e naufrastes e / tuastes les liges gentz nostre seignur le Roi , e de illoqes alastes en la compaignie des treiturs atteintz , Thomas , iadis / Counte de Lancastre , e Umfrei , iadis Counte de Hereforde, tant qe a Burtonne sur Trente , e illuqes arestutes les / gentz le Roi , qils ne poeint le pount passer ; armes oue baner desplere comme treitours e enemis contre vostre lige / seignur le Roi , vostre foie , vos homages , e ligeaunces , e naufrastes e tuastes ses liges gentz illoqes , e puis vous e les / autres treitours enemis le Roi aperceiuaunt la venue le Roi aforceement , aluminastes la ville de Burton , e vous / meistes en chaumpe en batailles oue baners despleres attendants vostre lige seignur dauoir combatu oue luy . Si vous / e les autres treitours eussez eu a ceo le pouer , e quant vous veissez la sarre e forciable venue vostre seignur lige e de ses batails , / les queux vous ne osiez attendre , neue poer aresteer ; tournastes le dos , e fuistes deuers le Northe enrobaunt le pays de/ uante vous. come treitours e robeours tanqe vous venistes au Pount de Burghe, ou vous trouastes les gentz le Roi / eant son poer a leuer le poeple , e de aresteer les treitours e les enemis le Roi , Et vous e les autres treitours e / enemis illoqes assemblastes a eaux oue baner desplere , e ascuns gentz le Roi tuastes , e ascuns naufrastes , Ou vous e / les autres treitours de vostre faux accorde e coueigne feustes descomfiz. e ascuns tues , e vous e ascuns autres des / enemis pris , e les autres senfuirent issint qen vous ne demura point , qe vous ne eussez encontree vostre seignur lige / a Byrtonne e puis ses liges gentz eant son poer a Pount de Burghe, si vous eussez en a ceo la force e pouer. Les / queux treisons , arzons , homicides , Roberies , cheuauchees oue baners desplerez ; sount notoirs as Conts , Barons , e / altres grantz e petitz de son Roialme. Et nostre seignur le Roi de son Roial pouer le recorde , Par qei ceste Courte / agarde qe pur la treisone serez treine , e pur les Roberies e homicides ; pendu. /



4. Fineshade manuscript version: translation

For that you, a liegeman of our lord the King, contrary to your faith, homage and allegiance falsely and traitorously took his castle of Gloucester, and burnt his city of Bridgenorth; and there you slew his people and robbed his liegemen and plundered the country throughout the land where you had gone to make war, until you came unto the King’s castle at Tykille.

And there you beseiged the castle with banners unfurled as enemies of the King and of the realm, and wounded and slew the liegemen of our lord the King; and you went from that place in the company of the attainted traitors Thomas, sometime Earl of Lancaster, and Humphrey, sometime Earl of Hereford, unto Burton-upon-Trent; and there you impeded the King’s men that they might not cross the bridge, armed and with banners unfurled as traitors and enemies against your liege lord the King, your faith, your homage, and alliegance, and wounded and slew his people there.

And then you and the other enemy traitors of the King, perceiving him approaching with great strength, burned the city of Burton and took to the field of battle with banners unfurled, awaiting your liege lord to fight against him, if you and the other traitors should have the strength thereto.

And when you saw the well-armed and mighty approach of your liege lord and his batallions, which you dared not meet and could not hinder, you turned your backs and fled towards the North, plundering the country before you, like cowards and thieves, until you arrived at Boroughbridge, where you found the King’s men, bearing his power to raise men and to arrest traitors and enemies to the King.

And you and the other traitors and enemies assembled there, with banners unfurled, and slew some of the King’s men, and wounded others; and there you and the other traitors of your false accord and covenant were defeated, and some were slain, and you and certain others of the enemies taken, and the others fled so that not one remained for you, that would not have met with your liege lord at Burton and then with his liegemen bearing his power at Boroughbridge, if you had had the force and power to avoid it.

And these treasons, arsons, murders, robberies, and raids with banners unfurled, are notorious to the Earls, Barons and other greater and lesser men of the realm. And our lord the King by his royal power records it. For which this court finds that for the treason you should be drawn, and for the robberies and murders, hanged.

The Earl of Kent's confession

This is my translation of the Anglo-Norman text of the Earl of Kent's confession, taken from the appendix to E. M. Thompson's edition of Murimuth (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1889). He prints it there because it appears so in just one of the manuscripts of the chronicle - I believe it's also printed in Latin in Walsingham's Historia Anglicana (Rolls Series, 1863) ii 351, but I haven't verified this, and am not sure what the relationship is between the two versions.

For those who don't know, or do know and quite understandably quite keep the events of these few years straight, here's a brief summary:

- Isabella, queen of England, invaded England to depose her husband Edward II, with the help of her lover Roger Mortimer and Edward's brother Edmund, earl of Kent.

- Having deposed Edward II, they set up his son, a rather young Edward III, in his place. Isabella and Mortimer proceeded to have a party.

- Not long after, Edward II apparently died in captivity at Berkeley Castle. This was terribly unfortunate, and suspiciously convenient, especially for Mortimer. Even more conveniently, no one actually seems to have seen him dead. Anyway, he vanished.

- People proceeded to become more discontented with Isabella and Mortimer's rule.

- Suddenly, the Earl of Kent and a good number of other rather prominent people, as well as people who were rather likely to be in the know, were arrested/accused/looked at funny for trying to rescue the officially dead former king from durance vile in Corfe. Note that one of the men listed below, Sir John Pecche, was apparently the steward in charge of the castle in question, and therefore rather likely to know who was locked up in his charge.

- Despite this, they were naturally all just being terrible malicious liars who were out to upset the established order and oust their true king Morti- er - Edward III, and so many of them, including Kent, lost their heads. Others, according to proof and position, were exiled, fined, or just looked at funny for a while.

- Not long after this, Edward III decided he'd had enough of being a figurehead for a man who liked to do things like stage expensive tournaments in which he dressed up as King Arthur while asserting that he had no designs on the throne and had Edward's uncle executed for trying to rescue his father, had Mortimer executed and his mother politely retired, and took over ruling properly.

- The definitely-not-still-alive Edward II, meanwhile, wandered over to Italy where he spent the rest of his days pottering quietly about the gardens in a nice little monastery, and possibly digging ditches and clipping hedges, just like he'd always wanted to.


Alianore, over at her Edward II blog, made a series of posts on Kent's conspiracy, in which she untangled the characters and sequence of events beautifully: parts one, two, three and four.

The Anglo-Norman is below the translation, verbatim as published in Thompson's edition, if anyone wants to cite it - or disagree with me, of course!

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Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

This statement was given before Robert Howel, crowner of the king’s household, and afterward before the barons and peers of the realm, at Winchester, on the sixteenth day of March in the fourth year*:

Let it be known that E[dmund] Earl of Kent admits that the pope charged him, on his blessing, to bend all his pains and diligence to deliver E[dward] his brother, sometime* king of England, promising to cover his costs.

And he says that a friar preacher of a London convent came to him in Kensington, near London, and told him that he had raised the devil, who had told him most assuredly that E[dward] his brother, sometime king of England, was alive.*

And he says that the Archbishop of York sent to him a chaplain, Sir Aleyn, who bore a letter of credence reading thus: that he would give him for the deliverance of his brother 5000 pounds and more, so much as he had and could supply.

And he says that Sir Ingelram Berenger spoke to him in London on behalf of Sir William la Zouche, saying that he would do all in his power for his brother’s deliverance.

And he says that Sir William de Cliff came to him with the same message, by this token: that they rode together between Woking and Guildford, and he said that he avoided the town of Guildford because his niece Despenser* was there in that town; and that same Sir William spoke to him of the alliance between Richard, the son the Earl of Arundel, and his daughter *, and also said that it would be the greatest honour that ever befell him, and that he would aid him as far as he could to achieve these things.

And he says that the same William came to him on behalf of Hugh Despenser*, to say that he would be well pleased to be with him; because he said that he would be sure of accomplishing the deliverance within a little time.

And he says that Sir William de Derham, clerk of his letters, and Brother Thomas Bromfeld were those who most aided and urged him to undertake these things.

And he says that Sir Robert Taunton brought him word of these things on behalf of the Archbishop of York, saying that he had ready 5000 pounds to answer his needs in the undertaking, from the coffers of Sir Hugh Despenser.

And he says that the same Sir Robert and two friar preachers who are out of their order, the one named Edmund Savage and the other John, were the intermediaries of this affair.

And he says that Sir Fulk Fitzwarrene came to him at Westminster to pray and urge him to undertake this business, emboldening him in these things, and told him that it would be the greatest honour that ever befell him, and that he would give body, heart and all he could to help him.

And he said that Sir Ingeram Berenger came to him on behalf of Sir John Pecche, being in accord with that man, to say that he would give body, heart and all he could.

And he says that Sir Henry Beaumont and Sir Thomas Roscelyn spoke to him in Paris*, in the chambers of the Duke of Brabant, saying that they were prepared to come to England to assist in this venture; and that they urged him on to this end; and that they made shore near Scotland, with the aid of Donald of Mar, who was prepared to aid them to achieve these ends so far as he could. But they arrived too late.

And he says that Sir Richard Pontefract, confessor to Lady de Vescy, came to him on this business at the coronation at Kensington, and then at Arundel, on behalf of the Archbishop of York.

And he says that a monk of Quar and John Comminges, his cousin, had furnished a ship, a barge and a boat to carry his brother to his castle of Arundel, and thence wherever he would. And he says that all this matter had been revealed to Sir E. de Monchiver and George Percy.

And he says that the letters which he had sent to Sir Bugues de Bayeux and to John Deveril, sealed with his seal, that he did send – and that there was also one letter written in his wife’s hand.

And he says that Ingelram Berenger, Malcolm Musard and John Cumming had laboured and bent their backs to do these things.

And he says that Sir Ingelram Berenger came to him at Arundel, in his chambers above the chapel, and said that the bishop of London would aid him so much as was in his power in the deliverance of his brother.

And all these things he admits as true, and confesses himself guilty, that he has wrongly set himself to the unmaking of his lord king and his crown, by the advice of those aforesaid; and he wholly delivers himself to the will of that king, to come barefoot to London, in his shirt, or to whatsoever place the king shall name, with a rope about his neck to London, or whatsoever place the king may name, to do with him as he please.

-------

Ceste reconissance fuit faite devant Robert Houel, coruner del hostel le roi, et puis devant le grantz et piers de la terre, a Wyncestre, le xvj. jour de Marcz lan quarte: - Cest a saver, qe E. counte de Kent conust qe le apostoille ly charga, sour sa beneizon, qil meist sa peine et sa diligence deliverer E. soun frere, jadis roi Dengleterre, et qil a ceo trovereit ses costages. Et dit qe un frere prechour du covent de Loundres vint a ly, a Kenssingtone juxte Loundres, et ly dit qil avoit leve le deable, qe li dit serteinement qe E. soun frere, jadis roi Dengleterre, fut en vie. Et dit qe le ercevesqe de Everwik ly manda per un chapeleyn, syr Aleyn, une lettre de credence, et fut la credence tiele: qil ly eidroyt a la deliverance soun frere de v. mille livres et outre de quant qil aveit et quant qil poreit reindre. Et dit qe sire Ingeram Berenger dist a ly a Loundres de par sire William de la Souche qil mettroit quant qil porreit a la deliverance soun frere. Et dit qe sire William de Clif vint a li en mesme le message, par celes enseignes qils chivacherent ensemble entre Wokkingge et Gildeforde, et li dist qil eschuast la vile de Gildeforde par la reson de sa nece la Despenser qe fust em mesme la vile de Gildeforde; et mesme sely sire William ly parla de lalyance entre le fitz Richard, counte de Arundel, et sa filie, et dist outre qe ceo serrent le plus grant honur qe unqes ly avynt, et qil ly aidereit en tant com il poeit a ceste chose faire. Et dit qe mesme sely sire Wiliam vint a ly de par Hugues le Despenser, qe ly dit qil serroit bien seant qil fut ovesqe ly; kar il dit qe il seroit sour de la deliverance en bref temps. Et dit, qe sire William de Derham, clerk de ses lettres, et frere Thomas de Brounfelde furent ceux qe plus ly abetterent et enticerent a cestes choses susdite faire. Et dit qe sire Robert de Tauntone de par le ercevesqe de Evirwik eu message de ces choses avantdites et li dit qe il avoit prest v. mille livres a cele besoigne susdite par faire, et ceo de largent sire Hugues le Despenser. Et dit qe mesme sely sire Robert et deus freres prechours qe sunt hors de lour ordre, des quex lun se fait apeller Edmoun Savage, et lautre Johan, furent les brokours de ceste bosoigne. Et dit qe sire Fouke le fitz Waryn vint a ly a Westmonstre et ly pria et ly entica de ceste chose comencer, et ly enbaudi a cestes choses faire, et ly dit qe ceo serroit le plus grant hunur qe unqes ly avynt, et ly dit qil ly aideroit ou corps, quer, et quant qil avoit. Et dit qe monsire Ingeram Berenger vynt a ly de par sire Johan Pecche, qe fut de cele covyne, et a ceo mettreit cors, et quor, et quant qil avoit. Et dit qe sire Henry Bemound et sire Thomas Roscelyn parlerent a ly en Parys, en la chaumbre le Duk Braban, qil fusent prest de venir en Engleterre en aeide de cestes avantdites; et qils ly enticerent de cestes choses faire; et qil ariveroient devers les parties de Escoce, par abet de Donalde de Maar, qe il serroit en aeide de eux, a celes choses maintenir, et quant qil poeit. Mes le temps de lour venue est passe. Et dit, qe sire Richard de Pountfreyt, confessour la dame de Vescy, vynt a ly a Kensingtone, al corounement, et puis a Arundel, de par le ercevesqe de Everwike, pur cestes choses avantditz. Et dit, qe un moigne de Quarrer et Johan Cymmygs, soun cosyn, avoient aparaille une nyef, une barge, une batel, a menir soun frere et ly a soun chastel de Arundel et dilloqes la ou homme ust ordine. Et dit qe de cestes choses avantdites il soi descovereit a sire E. de Mounchiver et a Jorge de Percy. Et dit qe les lettres quelx il ad envoie a sire Buges de Baiouse et a Johan Devroillie, enselez de soun seal, qil les envoia – qe la une lettre fut enscripte de la meyn sa femme. Et dit qe Ingeram Berenger, Maucelym Musarde et Johan Cymmynge travaillerent et firent lour peine a cestes choses faire. Et dit qe sire Ingeram Berenger vynt a ly, a Arundel, en sa chaumbre a mount la chapele, et dit qe le evesqe de Loundres ly aideroit a la deliverance soun frere de quant qil avoit. Et cestes choses il conust estre vereies, et se rent coupable qil se ad malveisement porte en defesance de soun seignor lige et de sa corune, par abet de ces avantdit; et se met de tut a la volunte le roi, de venir nu pe, en sa chemise, a Loundres ou a ceste vile, ou par la ou le roi voudra ordiner, ou une corde entour soun col, de faire de ly ceo qe ly plerra.

Lingua latina in bucca angliae

So, sometimes you come across a word so weird and random it just has to be right. Especially if the other manuscripts suggest an alternative that looks more, well, normal.

Two of them occur in the course of Adam Murimuth's account of the murder of Piers Gaveston. One, hutesio, is the same in all extant manuscripts and occurs as hutesium on the next page, so it was clearly intentional, even if I couldn't find it in any Latin dictionary I consulted, no matter how creative I got with the spelling. But the other, utlagatum, occurred only once - only once in the text and only in one manuscript. It even confused the scribes - one other scribe had made an attempt and spelt it utlagium, and the others had just amended it to the much simpler vulgatum, which works perfectly well in context. But it just looks wrong. It's an awkwardly angular (or Angle-ar?) accumulation of conflicting consonants. Which meant that it had to be right.

It's a phenomenon of editing that I'm rather fond of, the way the least obvious version is at least as likely to be right as the word that looks right, if not more so. It happens in Shakespeare all the time, which is just what you get when you go about inventing hundreds of new words and word variants all over your oeuvre. Compositors often just edited them back to more normal words or phrasings. Sometimes you can see them absent-mindedly correcting various clownish characters' verbal hiccups; so, for example, Mistress Quickly's continuantly (2 Henry IV, 2.1.22-23, Norton edition) appears in the Folio version as continually.

So I hunted, dragged out the Middle English dictionary and the Anglo-Norman dictionary (though I thought that utlagatum at least was probably from Old English, as it sounds rather Germanic, so that it wouldn't be much help for that one at least), and experimenting with spellings and sounds and de-Latinising.

Hutesium, in context, looked like a technical term derived from hunting:

... [Gaveston] invenit ibi multos homines facientes hutesium super eum vocibus et cornibus, sicut super inimicum regis et regni (he found there many men making hutesium against him with voice and horn, as against an enemy of the king and the realm) ...

So I was thinking vaguely of our expression "hue and cry" - correctly, as it turned out - but I couldn't find it in the Middle English dictionary until I hit on searching for *outhes*. Then I found:

outhes (n.) Also outheis, othes, outesse, outes, outasse, outhas, outas, outhest & (early) uthes, utheis, utheste, utest, huthes, hutes, huteis, huthest & (Latinate) uthesium, huthesis, hutesium & (error) houches.

[?From LOE blend of haes & haest 'fury, violence'; cp. ME hest(e n.(1) & heste n.(2).]

Outcry, clamor, uproar; ~ upon, outcry against (sb.); ~ and clamour, ~ and crie, hue and cry; greden (maken, reisen) ~, raise a cry.

So, that one's nicely solved, though I'm still not decided which word I will use to translate it - I'd like to keep the hint of hunting and baying, and the phrase "hue and cry" does that, but we don't use "hue" on its own anymore, do we? Unless discussing colour, of course, which is not really at issue, since Piers is a little beyond challenging sumptuary laws at this point.

The second word - utlagatum - was more of a challenge. In context it's an accusative past participle describing Piers, or rather, the mob's perception of him (sicut again). No creative spelling helped here, so I had to turn it back into a proper Middle English word and follow my ear. The Latin infinitive would be utlagare, so change that to English and say it's utlagen, spell that as it would sound and it becomes outlagen, then play around with the pronunciation until you get something that sounds like it might be a real Middle English word and you get the gutteral -gh- sound that might be interchangeable with -w-...

outlau(e (n.) Also oute-, outlagh, outelagh(e, ughtlaue, noutlai, utlaghe, utlag & (early) utlau(e, hutlaue, utlagh, -la3e, -lahe, -lage, utelagh, (early & N) utelau, (Latinate) utlagus, utlagi, (errors) houclawe, houlawe; pl. outlaues, -loues, etc., (Cornish) adla, (early) utlaues, -lawas, -lages, -lagas, uthlages & (early) utlauen, -la3en, -lagen, -laga, (Latinate) utlagos & (errors) oltaghys, holtaghys.

[OE utlaga & AL utlaga, -lagus & AF ullage, utlage.]

(a) One decreed an outlaw; a fugitive from justice; an exile, banished person [occasionally indistinguishable from sense (b)]; (b) a miscreant, villain; pirate, robber; fig. extortioner; (c) as surname or cognomen; (d) banishment, outlawry.

I love predictable languages! Even if they're only predictable with a little effort and a slightly unfastened brain.

These are my achievements for the day, and I am proud of them.

(And also: (c) as surname or cognomen? What poor person got Outlaw as a surname? And, more interestingly, how?)

Now, of course, the most interesting question in all of this is why and how Adam Murimuth of the formal and formulaic Latin drops into dramatic narrative style at this point and forgets himself so far as to use two visceral English words...

Anglo-Norman petitions #9: J. C. to William Milton, Archdeacon of Buckingham

Translation of a petition from one J. C. of Croydon to William Milton, asking for his help to redress and call a halt to a certain nasty habit belonging to the local bailiff representing the area's feudal lord, the Archbishop of Canterbury. This is not the William Milton who was Archbishop of York during the latter part of Edward II's reign; this Milton was the Archdeacon of Buckingham from 1403 until his death in 1424[1]; the editor here just dates the petition "After 1406", without explanation. According to the editor's note, Milton was also registrar to the Archbishop of Canterbury, which explains why he is the recipient of the letter. Presumably J. C. can't write to the Archbishop directly because, if he were to do so, it would have to pass through the bailiff in question.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XXVI, p 27: J. C. to William Milton.
Or, How the Feudal System Will Fail You When You Need It.

To his most honourable, most wise and discreet[2] lord, Master William Milton, archdeacon of Buckingham, a poor[3] man, J. C. of Croydon, tenant to my most honourable lord the Archbishop of Canterbury, humbly entreats that, as in the month of August last gone, Margery, the wife of the said supplicant, was walking to oversee his[4] servants at work in the fields, there came J. Piers, the junior bailiff of my said lord in Canterbury, and by force and coercion there in the field he conquered the said Margery and shamefully overcame her and carnally defiled her contrary to her will, and many times afterwards the said J. has lain in ambush by diverse roads and paths to do carnal and shameful villainy to the said Margery. And also in the meantime when your said supplicant had gone out of town about his business, the same J., perceiving this, many times came and entered the house of the said supplicant and by force overcame and carnally defiled the said Margery, as can be well and truthfully proven against him by many worthy and discreet[5] people of Croydon, to the lasting detriment of the said supplicant and of his said wife, as well as other damage to their names and honour. For which reasons, may it please you that in your most wise counsel you make relation of this loathsome matter to my said most honourable lord and to lend your good help to such end that a due remedy may be ordained and made, as required by justice. For God and in the name of charity.

Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 27.

I thought I had rather a strong stomach, but working on this made for a very unpleasant afternoon's. At least she seems to have a relatively supportive husband. Though it hardly makes up for being assaulted all over the town and in her own house. I suppose if there are household servants there, they can't really stop him, because he is the Archbishop's bailiff. And they can't appeal directly to the Archbishop. Because he is the Archbishop's bailiff.

---------

[1] According to the list of Buckingham's archdeacons held at http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=32598.

[2] “discret”, which might, of course, mean simple “wise” or “discerning”. But it isn't a word I've encountered in these petitions before - “sage” is usual, and is the word I just translated as “wise” here, and, given the nature of the situation, I don't think it's going too far to suppose that J. C. would want discretion to be a quality Milton bears in mind when reading this.

[3] As elsewhere, 'poor' here clearly isn't literal - the man can speak and write French, or hire someone to do it for him, and has servants working in the fields. Calling oneself poor seems to be as much part of the form as opening with elaborate flattery of the recipient and referring to oneself in the third person, and I can think of several reasons for it off the top of my head: poverty as a spiritual attribute, extreme subjugation by comparison with the recipient, simple adherence to form, etc, any or all of which may be present in the pen of any one petitioner. In a case like this, it's tempting to imagine that he is also referring to his own emotional state, but that may be reaching a little too far beyond formal words.

[4] Or, possibly, her.

[5] In this case, “discretz” may simply mean “of good judgement”, with the word choice informed by his earlier use of “discret”.

Anglo-Norman petitions #8: The Isle of Wight to the king

Translation of a petition from the Isle of Wight to the king (Richard II or Henry IV), asking to be excused from the tenths and fifteenths that are intended to fund the war against France in order that they may fortify their island against the constant French raids, and saying that, without those funds, the island will have to be evacuated.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XX, p 21: The Isle of Wight to the King.

To the most redoubtable and gracious lord, our lord the king, the poor citizens both spiritual and temporal of the Isle of Wight humbly beg that you may wish to consider, in your benign grace, the great hardship and costs that they have borne before these times and which they still bear from day to day because of the war against the enemies France and Brittany, for which reason they have great fear for their lives and livelihoods, and they mean to remove from the said Isle and to live on this side of the sea if no remedy may be found quickly for the said Isle, and therefore may it please your most gracious lordship to grant the said supplicants, in your benign grace, that they may be excused from all manner of tenths and fifteenths and all kinds of tallages to the said Isle, paid or yet to pay, to you or your heirs, throughout the aforesaid war, in order that the said supplicants may make arrangements to repel the landing of the enemy here, or to make fortifications against said landing at their own costs. For God, and in the name of charity.

Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 21.

This is actually surprisingly hard to date, because of the Isle of Wight's habit of being attacked by the French whenever the latter had a few spare hours because their wives weren't expecting them home for tea. A quick search fails to turn up any references to this petition, or any other requests for / grants of funds, though there is refence in 1375 to the Crown threatening to confiscate the lands of nobles fleeing the raids, which makes a plausible background to this threat to evacuate.

That's quite a cunning little clause, asking to be excused from all war taxes under the king and his heirs for so long as the war with France may last. Do you think someone had tipped them that this was to go down in history as the Hundred Years War? Or that it would be probably possible to argue for the rest of recorded history that 'the aforementioned war' had never, in fact, ended?

Anglo-Norman petitions #7: Margery to the Archbishop of Canterbury

Translation of a petition from a London woman called Margery to the Archbishop of Canterbury, possibly Arundel. She says that her husband believes, or feigns to believe, that she was pre-contracted to another man before marrying him, and is attempting to annul their marriage.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XL, p 40: Margery to the Archbishop of Canterbury.

To the most reverend father in God and her most gracious lord, Margery, wife of W.G. of London, humbly supplicates that, having wedded the said W. and lived with him in legal matrimony for four years, and not having been contracted to any other man before the nuptials were solemnised between them, the said W., thinking[1] falsely to be separated from the said supplicant by means of a false conspiracy between him and[2] one Robert C., clerk, has feigned a false[3] charge in the court of the most reverend father in God the Bishop of London, and there has pronounced to the said supplicant that she must have made a precontract with another man, when the said supplicant has no knowledge of any such man on this earth, and by means of this charge the said W. has pressed an annulment[4] between himself and the said supplicant, which annulment, through the false supposings[5] of the said Robert, will be carried out, if no solution may be found by your lordship, and so[6] may it please your most noble paternity, for the salvation of W.'s soul, to ordain remedy in this case. For God and in the name of charity.


Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 40.

Firstly: please father, save my marriage, for the sake of my bastard of a husband's soul? This lass needs to go have a serious chat with Maude about taking charge of her own life.

Secondly: ymagenant, ymaginacions. This word appears twice, and makes the task of determining just what her husband is about rather a slippery one. The first occurrence is when we are told that W. is ymagenant fauxment d'estre departi de [Margery]... par faulx conspiracie par entre luy et un Robert C. I have translated ymagenant here as thinking, both because it lets me preserve the syntax of the original and because it's a rather neutral word and I wanted to keep discussion of implications out of the text itself. And here she uses it rather neutrally - the moral weight of that phrase is, or seems to be, on fauxment. She could have written creyent for ymagenant, without altering the sense of the phrase - in fact, I'll go out on a limb a little and say that this part reads as if she is trying to excuse her husband and lay the blame on Robert. It's perfectly possible to read ymagenant here as a blameless creyent and faulx in its sense of mistaken, incorrect, erring.

But then we come to the second use of the same word: le quel devors par faulx ymaginacions de dit Robert serra parforny s'il ne soit remedie. The two words again, faulx and ymaginacions, but here the context changes their reception. My first thought here was imaginations, fantasies, the lies Robert comes up with about her life, but the second, hard on its heels, was machinations. And indeed, on consulting the Anglo-Norman dictionary, I found it notes that "there is semantic and formal overlap and/or confusion between imaginer and machiner", defining imaginer as

v. a. 1. to imagine, envisage, create a mental image of; to imagine, conceive, think up 2. to invent, make up; to devise, contrive 3. to plot, scheme (cf. machiner);
v.n. 1. to imagine, envisage, create a mental image 2. to assume, think 3. to make plans;

So, if Margery is (consciously or otherwise) exploiting the ambiguity inherent in this word, this darkens her fau[l]xs to their more negative moral interpretations: wicked or sinful, rather than mistaken. This casts a different light back on what she was thinking when she wrote that first ymagenant, even if she meant to avoid laying the blame on her husband: paranoia, anger that she can't allow herself to feel properly, vulnerability, witnessing a conspiracy that she can neither expose nor withstand? She is concerned to keep her husband from falling into mortal sin, begging the Archbishop to save his soul, but even if she seems to try to keep most of her fau[l]xs from pointing directly at her husband, I think in her eyes his moral state is already fairly questionable. Or perhaps she wavers between seeing him as victim and agent.

This man does not make a good head, Margery. Use your own.



[1] 'Ymagenant' - but see note above.

[2] 'E[s]t' - I'm not sure why the editor has added that 's', as in context it can't be a verb, and while 'et' (in the sense of 'and') is sometimes spelt with an 's', 'et' is more common.

[3] Yes, she really does use 'fau[l]x' three times in a row. And while the double negative of ad feyné une faulx cause sounds clumsy in English, I'm leaving it in there to preserve the sense of vehemence or desperation that comes with the lady protesting too much.

[4] 'Devors', but he seems to be seeking to declare the marriage invalid altogether on the grounds of an earlier contract, not to be granted what we would call a divorce.

[5] 'Ymaginacions' - again, see note above.

[6] While 'and so' is necessary to make the grammar scan in English, it doesn't appear in the French. Her plese a vostre tresnoble paternitee... ordeigner remedie should, according to the usual form of these petitions, refer back to her opening que come ele ad esté espousé; but that has already been closed long ago, with ore le dit W... ad feyné. Technically, I think this is a grammatical flaw (unless I'm missing something); but to me, looking back at the other petitions, it seems more that the patterns within this form are becoming figures of their own. You open with supplie que, come... and close with plese a vous, and in the middle you tell a dramatic and poignant story in one long, involved sentence, but by the time you reach plese a vous you've forgotten what you're referring back to, and the form stands on its own.

Anglo-Norman petitions #6: J. de G. and others to Henry IV

Translation of a petition to Henry IV. J. de G., the gentles and commons of W., T. and K. ask pardon for their part in a recent uprising and declare themselves his faithful subject.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions IX, p 8: J. de G. and others to Henry IV.

To our most high, most mighty and most redoubtable lord, our lord the King: if it be your pleasure, we, J. of G., the gentles and commons of [the counties of][1] W. and T. and certain people of K. represent that, as we are become your loyal subjects and tenants and we have submitted ourselves to your most high and excellent grace and will thus, may it please your most gracious lordship to pardon your said poor and humble gentles and commons of the counties aforesaid our insurrection and rebellious[2] and to accept[3] us along with our lands, goods and holdings and to receive us as loyal men and subjects beholden[4] to you and to no man else, save to our most redoubtable lord the prince, your most gracious son, etc.
Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 8.

[1] Judging by “the counties aforesaid” below.

[2] Or rebellion - “rebelté” could be either.

[3] “pardonner... et nous acceptee” - I can't find any way to read that except as a scribal error for “accepter”.

[4] “loialx et liegez tenantz a vous” - “loialx et liegez” could be nouns and “tenantz” the adjective, or the other way around: “loyal men and subjects beholden”, or “loyal and feudally bound tenants/subjects”. The phrasing echoes “loyal subjects and tenants” earlier (“loialx lieges et tenantz”).

Anglo-Norman petitions #5: Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Henry IV

Translation of a petition from Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Henry IV, presumably in 1399. Having helped Henry IV overthrow Richard II, who had made him Archbishop of Canterbury in 1397 then exiled him for his association with the Lords Appellant, Arundel writes formally petitioning to be allowed to re-assume his position and the lands and holdings associated with it.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XIX, p 20: Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Henry IV.

To the most excellent and most redoubtable lord, our lord the king, your humble chaplain Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury and primate of all England entreats that[1], the said supplicant being wrongfully impeached of diverse matters by the parliament held at Westminster on the day following the Exaltation of the Holy Cross in the twenty-first year of the reign of Richard the second, lately King of England, and being in addition in his absence and with no defence given sentences to permanent exile from the realm of England, and his temporalities of the said archbishopric having been seized into the hands of the said former king, and all his goods and properties having been declared forfeit against all true law and reason, may it please your royal majesty[2] to consider the matter of the said impeachment and judgement thus wrongfully given in his absence and with no defence given, and to make judgement in this present parliament to reverse the sentence and declare it invalid, to find that he must be restored to his temporalities in every degree with all the issues, commodities and profits of the holdings that accompany them from the day of the said judgement to the day of the present parliament, together with all the goods and strongholds thus against law and reason declared forfeit, as if no judgement had ever been delivered against him. For God, and in the name of charity.

Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 20.


[1] Isn't that a potent opening, the careful blend of power and reverence? It combines flattery - to a man just risen to new heights, those forms of address must be heady indeed, especially coming from the “Archbishop of Canterbury and primate of all England”, who nevertheless presents himself as “your humble chaplain” - with promise - I am on your side, God is on your side, I can consolidate your position - and just a hint of threat, because if you were to choose not to reinstate this man as is right (and he makes good use of righteous language throughout the rest of the letter) he has enough political clout to possibly bring you down again, not to mention the influence he might have with someone higher up. Richard II flouted Thomas Arundel, and look what happened to him...

[2] “vostre majesté roiale” - I believe it was Henry VIII who first insisted on “Your Majesty” as the formal form of address to the king. Arundel isn't using it here as a formal title, of course, but it stands out as uncommon: most petitions so far have used “hautesse”, “seigneurie”, etc. Perhaps Arundel is laying on the flattery rather thick.

Anglo-Norman petitions #4: J. G. to the Archbishop of Canterbury

Translation of a petition to Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury (1397, 1399-1414): J. G. complains that a woman promised in marriage to him is avoiding solemnising the contract, avoiding a court summons by moving back and forth between two dioceses.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XXXIX, p 40: J. G. to Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury.

To the most holy father in God and my most gracious lord, the Archbishop of Canterbury, J. S. of K, a poor man, humbly entreats that, being contracted to one Maude T. living in Royston to be taken as her husband, and as, with the protection of the prior of R. and other persons acquainted with the said Maude, she has retreated and wishes never to complete the said contract as required by the law of the holy church and good conscience; and as part of the said town of Royston is in the diocese of London and part is in the diocese of Ely, so that when the said Maute is summoned to appear before the law in one diocese she flees into the other diocese, so it appears she will not ever appear before the law in any manner because of the protection aforementioned; out of this, may it please your most holy paternity and gracious lordship to grant the said supplicant a summons to make the said Maude appear before your very person, in order that you may heard openly the said contract and ordain of it due remedy, as the law and good conscience demand. In the name of God and charity.

Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 29-30.

... Well, good on you, Maude. He sounds like an obnoxious drag. And isn't it odd to think of a time when people moved around so little that the courts didn't have any standard procedure to deal with this sort of situation, and it was left to the plaintiff to go over their heads?

Anglo-Norman petitions #3: J. S. Esquire to the King

Translation of a petition to the king - either Richard II or Henry IV. J. S. Esquire has been imprisoned for six weeks without charge and asks to be brought to trial.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XII, p 10: J. S. Esquire to the King.

Your poor subject J. S. Esquire humbly beseeches[1] that, being suddenly taken by J. Venour, one of the viscounts of London, and placed in custody in your local gaol and being kept there in prison[2], and succeeding in discovering nothing of the reason for his imprisonment save what the said viscount told the said supplicant, that he took him on the order of your gracious self, may it please your most excellent lordship in your most abundant mercy to consider that your said poor subject has been detained there for more than six weeks to the great detriment and ruin of his poor estate[3], and also that the said supplicant is so ill with diverse maladies that the pain will not let him live, and to send for your said supplicant to be brought before your royal person or otherwise before your most wise council to reply as justice and law demand. For God, etc.

Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 29-30.



[1] The usual elaborate opening forms (“Au tresnoble/treshonouré/tresgracious” etc) are omitted. This and certain other touches give the letter an unpolished quality that make me wonder whether it was written by the prisoner himself, rather than a professional scribe. Given the circumstances, he may not have had access to a clerk.

[2] He does repeat himself rather here: “mys en garde en vostre countré [prison] illoeques et la demoert en prisoun”.

[3] Or possibly condition, health; but he turns to his health next, and “arrerissement et anientiesement” sound to me more like formal terms to be applied to one’s living, business, lands, etc, than to one’s body.

Anglo-Norman petitions #2: Maud Curteys to the Archbishop of Canterbury

Translation of a petition to Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury (1397, 1399-1414): c. 1404, Maud Curteys asks for justice against a man imprisoned on her charge of murdering her son-in-law, saying that he is also indicted for treason against the king.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions XXVIII, p 29-30: Maud Curteys to Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury.

To my most honourable, most noble and most gracious lord and most reverend father in God, the Archbishop of Canterbury, primate of all England, your poor and devout petitioner Maud Curteys entreats most humbly and piteously that, one John Moyle the elder being imprisoned at the suit of your said supplicant for the death of one R. A., son[1] of the same supplicant, killed by his felonious contrivance; and the said supplicant having heard that the friends of the said John Moyle have informed you that he is not guilty of the aforementioned death in order to secure your aid in his deliverance, when in truth, most gracious lord, he is of that wholly guilty and the principal cause and contrivor of the deed, as can well be proven, if the testimony of the most worthy people of the county of Cornwall - given chiefly for his indictment - may suffice; may it please[2] your most gracious lordship and most reverent paternity[3] to consider how the said J. M. is also indicted for treason against the person of our most redoubtable lord the King, and then to graciously allow that the common law be permitted to take its course on the said J. M. for the reason aforesaid, as an example to other such men and as a vindication of justice, without aiding him or praying for him... [4] that they may have pity and compassion for the horrible murder of the said R. A., and for the great sorrow this has caused the said supplicant. For God, and in the name of charity.


Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 29-30.

[1] Other references in the Calendar Patent Rolls to Maud and Thomas Curteys and John Moyle indicate that R. A. was their son-in-law, according to the editor's notes.

[2] "The vehemence of Maud's protestations seem to have carried her away a little: the logical progression of “supplie que (come... come... come...) plese a [vous] considerer”, into which this and most of the other petitions are organised, has been disrupted by a little maze of subordinate clauses in which she pleads her case. The return to “may it please” here is consequently a little disorienting, as its referent is 12 very involved lines overhead. I've tidied up a little in translating, to make the sense flow more clearly with semi-colons and participles, but perhaps it would have been more honest to Maud to have left the tangle as it was. She (or her clerk) is, of course, writing quite capably in a very formalised convention, which does support large numbers of subordinate clauses, but in this case I think her subject matter - understandably! - ran away with her.

[3] “paternitee”: fathership? fatherhood?

[4] A line seems to be omitted. “que plese a [vous]... suffrer que la comune ley puisse courger sur [J. M.] ... en ensample de tielx aultres et en sustenance de droiture sanz luy eider ou pour luy prier eiant pitee et compassion del horrible mourdre du dit R. A...” There is no punctuation between “prier” (to pray) and “eiant” (avoir, 3rd pl pres subj), and even if there were there is still no subject for “eiant”. Possibly Maud intended the “aultres” as the subject, added “et en sustenance de droiture” above the line as an afterthought and forgot to precede “eiant” with “que”, but it's a bit of a stretch. Given the absence of editorial punctuation, or a footnote noticing the problem, I'm going to assume it's either a) me missing something stupidly obvious or b) the editors accidentally omitting a few words, not the mediaeval scribe(s).

Anglo-Norman petitions #1: O. of C. to the king.

Translation of a petition to the king (Richard II or Henry IV): O. of C. complains that a widow whose marriage was promised to him has remarried without licence, and asks that, in compensation, he receive the fine she will have to pay.

Please note: I have no qualifications in Anglo-Norman, or in fact in any form of French. The following translation is intended as a fun exercise, not a rigorous scholarly undertaking, and accuracy and finesse are in no way guaranteed.

Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions V, p 3-4: O. de C. to the King.

To the most excellent and most redoubtable lord, our lord the King, your poor subjet O. of C. humbly supplicates that, as it has pleased your most gracious lordship to write to A., once the wife of J. and now a widow, asking that she would take your said supplicant to be her husband; and as despite this she has taken a husband at her own will without your licence; and as she therefore must[1] pay a fine to you, most gracious lord, may it please your highness, since he[2] may not have the woman, to grant to him the fine that she must pay to you on account of having married without licence. In the name of charity.


Original text from Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman Texts 3 (Oxford: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1941). 3.

[1] “ele convient faire un fin ovec vous”: possibly “she has agreed to pay you a fine” instead, but lacking specific indication of her input - and because the rest of the petition implies that legal proceedings have not yet begun - I'm assuming that O. is referring to the usual fine imposed in such situations, rather than an agreement she has reached with authorities.
[2] Ie, your supplicant, me. The petitioners, so far as I've read, refer to themselves exclusively in the third person.

Will translations: Edward I

Today I had sudden impulse to teach myself Anglo-Norman, so I shall translate some mediaeval royal wills, beginning with the first that we have in the vernacular: Edward I.

I’m sure there are translations out there for most of them, but all I have is a facsimile of the 1780 edition[1] complete with long-s and blotches from the printing press. Caveat lector: I don’t speak modern French (though I can read it slowly), never mind middle French or its variants, and I have no dictionary for it. So if you chanced to come here via Google looking for a translation - don’t use this one. Its accuracy is in no way guaranteed!

I sit here at my desk, surrounded by a monolingual Italian dictionary, a bilingual modern French one and the Oxford Latin Dictionary, with the Oxford English Dictionary open in another browser tab. None of these can help much with the real problem words (the verbs too short to have a recognisable stem and whose vowels are unreliable due to conjugation and unstable spelling), but they make hunting down hunches fun!

This is a sample of the French. It’s the easy bit - the opening.

En nun du Pere, du Fitz, e du Seynt Esprit, Amen. Nus Edward, einsne filz au noble Roy d’Engleterre, fesoms nostre testament, en nostre bon sen, e en nostre bone memorie, le Samedis procheyn apres la Pentecouste, e le an de nostre seygnur mil, deu cent, septsaunt secund, en certe manere. En primes, nus divisoms a Deu, e a nostre dame Seinte Marie, e a tuz seyns nostre alme; et nostre cors enseuelir, ou nos esseketurs, ceo est a saver, sire Johan de Bretayne...

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In June 1272, Prince Edward was in Acre on crusade. A Muslim assassin infiltrated the stronghold and stabbed him seriously, possibly with a poisoned dagger - though that may well be a later embellishment, added so that we could have the pretty detail of his wife Eleanor devotedly sucking the poison from the wound. That is, presumably, the occasion on which he dictated this will. Details of wording like “we have had our seal set on this testament” rather than “we have set our seal” may suggest his weakness when this was written, which must have been rather frightening for a man who was so active and vigorous for most of his life. Apparently he never got around to making another will, even when he became king later that year and had a good many more things to “ordiner”. Perhaps it was on his to-do list - right after “subdue those Scots good and proper”.

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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. We, Edward, firstborn son of the noble King of England, make our testament, being in sound mind and memory, the first Saturday after Pentecost, in the year of our Lord 1272, in this manner. Firstly, we commit our soul to God, to our lady Saint Mary, and to all the saints; and our body to be buried where our executors, that is to say, sir John of Bretagne, sir William de Valence, sir Roger de Clifford, sir Payn de Chautros, sir Robert Tiletot, sir Otho de Gradisson, Robert Burnett and Anthony Bek, or any of them will have determined. To them we give and grant full power to ordain for the good of our soul, that all our assets, be they movable or not[2], be used in such a manner as to repay our debts, and redress the wrongs that we have done by our own hand or that of our deputies[3], and repay our people for their service[4], in a manner that seems good to them.

And because we know well that our belongings cannot suffice for this, we desire and permit that the abovementioned executors shall have full power, which we grant them as far as we are able, to order and manage all our lands in England, Ireland, Gascony and all our other lands, that they may hear from[5] them in the same manner that we did when they were in our hands, without selling or giving them away, and together with them to hold the guardianship of our children until they should come to their full age, to carry out our testament and grants of charity in England, and then to do what our executors see is best to be done; to do these things, we designate a hundred thousand pounds.

And, after our bequests are made, and our alms-giving carried out, we desire that the revenues of the aforesaid lands be kept for the benefit of our children, and that they be delivered into the hands of the aforesaid executors, until the coming of age of our aforesaid children.

And, if by chance it happen that the our lord the king, our father, should die before the coming of age of our children (which God forbid), we desire that the realm of England, and all the other lands that may pass down to our children, be delivered into the hands of our aforesaid executors, together with our dear father the Archbishop of York[6], and sir Roger, and other upstanding men of the realm, that they may reach an agreement[7] on any affairs that may arise, until the coming of age of our children named above, and that the revenues of the aforementioned lands be gathered and guarded by the hands of our aforementioned executors, and delivered to our children when they are of full age, to their benefit.

And furthermore we desire and ordain that two or more of our executors have the power to hear our accounts and receive[8] from all our bailies, wherever they may be, since our departure from England.

And then, if they cannot prove that they have faithfully rendered each account, and if none of our bailies be dead, let his heirs be bound to render the account for him[9].

Regarding the dowry of our dear wife Eleanor, we desire that she keep in each detail everything that was so designated when we had the chance[10], and if these are not paid to her, we desire that she have everything that right and law will give her, according to the customs and laws of England.

And also we desire that where not all of our executors can go to see to the terms of this our testament, that four or more, in the name of the others, shall have the power for themselves and for the others to fulfil the aforesaid terms.

And to that end, we pray to our holy father the apostle[11], that he may see these terms kept, and enforced, and confirmed; and that he may pray for our dear father, that he may ensure that these things we have named be kept stable and firm across all of his realm and power, to the farthest reaches of the land.

In witness of these things, we have had our seal set on this testament, and we have begged sir John Archbishop of (Syria? Tyre?)[12], and Vicar of the Holy Church of Jerusalem, and the honourable fathers, Brother Hugh de Revel, master of the Hospitallers, and Brother Thomas Bérard, master of the Templars, so that they also have set their seals to this document, together with our abovenamed executors in witness of these things that have been said.

Given at Acre, the Saturday abovenamed, the eighteenth[13] day of June, in the 55th year of the reign of the king our father.

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[1] ‘Edward I’. Nichols, John. A collection of all the wills, now known to be extant, of the kings and queens of England. London: Society of Antiquaries, 1780. Reproduced in facismile by Kessinger, 2007. 18-21. (Actually, it’s A COLLECTION of all THE WILLS, now known to be extant, of the Kings and Queens of ENGLAND, Princes and Princesses of WALES, and every branch of the BLOOD ROYAL, from the reign of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, to that of HENRY the SEVENTH exclusive. with EXPLANATORY NOTES, and a GLOSSARY. Why don’t we have titles that double as blurbs anymore? And it’s incorrect: Will’s will, such as it is, is included, as is that of Henry VII - but it was printed as an afterthought.)

[2] “tuz noz beyns, moebles e noun moebles” - I’m uncertain as to whether to translate “moebles” as “furniture”, but I think the sense is broader than that, to general movable possessions. I have to say I am very very tempted to translate “beyns” as “baths”. Clearly, Edward went native in Acre and tied up all his wealth in a very expensive exotic bath collection, some of them so large they would never be moved. This would explain the need to sell them off before returning to England, so that Henry III never has to know about his son’s shameful Eastern indulgences.

[3] “baliz”. In the absence of any helpful dictionary at all I decided to get creative and interpret this as a Frenchification of “bailies” (ie, bailiffs, men appointed to command or guard a stronghold/land in its lord’s absence). It was only after that it occurred to me that the word was probably French in origin anyway. The OED confirms this and suggests “baliz” would be an acceptable spelling; my modern French dictionary suggests that the only survivor is “bailleur” (sponsor, backer); my modern Italian dictionary gives “balia” (nurse, emphasis on the first syllable) and “balìa” (literary/obsolete, absolute authority or one to whom this was given, emphasis on -li-) and states that the second originates from Old French “baillie”. It gives no etymology for the first, which in itself suggests that it, like the vast majority of Italian words, comes direct from the Latin (”baiulus”, porter/carrier/bearer of a burden) and that Italian then later imported the “same” word with a different meaning from the French, keeping it alongside their own version. I love it when Italian does that. And I may well be alone in finding all this fascinating!

[4] “rendre a nostre gent’ lur servise” - I’m divided on whether this refers to formally paying the barons and other lords who followed him to Acre for their military service, or to paying off the gentlemen of his household, or possibly other servants - I’m not sure how specific the word would be with regards to class at this point.

[5] “en... ourir”: I can’t quite think of the English idiom, but I’m guessing it means ‘hear’ in the sense of hear pleas, receive messages, sit at the centre of the web - ie, order, run.

[6] I am very pleased with myself for working out that “le erceuesk de everwyk” is “the Archbishop of York”. For my next trick, I can even give him a name - Walter Giffard!

[7] “akondrunt” - I hereby make the executive decision that the first “n” should be “r”, because it makes more sense that way.

[8] The object of “receyvere” is left implicit - presumably messengers, or accounts, similar to “en ourir” above.

[9] The change from the plural to the singular is in the text. It isn’t clear whether he means the bailies or the executors, but logically the burden of proof would lie with the bailies.

[10] “ceo ke fust nome quant nus les pusams”. I think “pusams” must be the 1st person plural in the perfect indicative of “poer” (which seems to be the infinitive of “pouvoir” for this scribe, though it only occurs as a noun), and it makes sense grammatically, but it’s not clear whether he’s referring to some verbal agreement he made with Eleanor (or her relatives), or perhaps the contracts drawn up for the marriage.

[11] “a nostre seynt pere l’apostle”. Which apostle? The choice is yours! It could possibly be read as “seynt Pere l’apostle” (”pere” in the sense of “father” is spelt earlier as “piere”, so it’s not too great a leap), but that doesn’t explain the “nostre”. In itself “nostre” implies a prayer to Edward’s namesake saint, the Confessor - but he wasn’t an apostle.

[12] “Sur”. I don’t know enough about the theocratic and secular bureaucratic divisions of the Holy Lands at this point to know what the archbishoprics were, or even what “Syria” or “Tyre” was considered to be. But “Vicar of the Holy Church of Jerusalem” was surely a rather forlorn title by now!

[13] I think! On the entirely unscientific basis that “le disutime” just sounds like “the eighteenth”.

A new project: the arrival of Adam Murimuth

A terribly exciting parcel arrived for me yesterday.

It contained a book, entitled:



This is the 1889 edition of the chronicles of Adam of Murimuth, perhaps the most level-headed and well-informed of all chroniclers of Edward II's reign. And yet, so far as I have been able to find, no edition has been published since, and it has never been translated. I don't aspire to remedy the first - yet - but the second I can and will do.

And if I think it's good enough, and think myself capable of undertaking the full exercise, I will go on and do everything necessary to make a critical edition in both languages, for my MA or PhD.

So yes, it is a very exciting parcel, particularly as it was a long hard search through the dark and woodsy wilds of the internet to find it. It's kind of out of print, after all.


The book is exciting enough from a codicological perspective, never mind the contents. The edges are rubbed, the spine a little cracked where it connects to the front cover, and it will need careful handling, but nothing serious. And if it becomes serious, it can be rebound. The pages are in perfect condition - and I mean perfect, which I will get to with delight in a minute. The pastedowns are thin enough that I can see quite clearly the binders' methods inside the front and back covers. The first and last pages bear the imprint of "Wigan Free Public Library", and inside the front cover someone has jotted in lead pencil "228 - FP".

But the two most exciting features are, firstly, this little insert:

Why is the "to" space blank? Was it not presented, in the end, or did someone just forget to fill in "Wigan Free Public Library"? Does the same insert appear in every volume of this publication? The slip is glued into the spine, but after binding. Were any copies for public sale, as the printer's note on the title page implies, or was the distribution of them entirely within the gift of the Treasury? If not entirely, what percentage? And - Her/His! Victoria died in January 1901, so this presentation must have been very shortly after that - so soon that they were still using the stacks of these slips printed off before her death, and amending them by hand (in black ink, slightly faded to brown). And did the Library break up? Was it returned to the royal Stationery Office, Westminster? I got it from Abebooks.com, an online American amalgam of various secondhand and rare books stores - specifically, from Second Story Books in Rockville, MD (whatever MD is - no, I don't have America's states' abbreviations memorised, and I don't believe many Americans have Australia's states' abbreviations memorised either, and we have far fewer). I think I shall write a slip containing my information, the year and reason I bought it, the source and the condition it is in now, and attach it under the first slip. Some books deserve to have their histories known.

The second and perhaps most exciting thing is the state of the pages. No one has ever read this book before. Look:


Save for the first quire, and one quire later on in the book, none of the pages have been cut. This presents me with a dilemma. I have to cut it myself if I want to read it. But in doing so, I will be spoiling its uncutness. I will be submitting it to common use.

The solution, I have decided, is to find a beautiful old penknife that is worthy to cut it, and to use that to cut only the pages of Murimuth's chronicles, leaving Avesbury's intact. Such a wonderful and unique surviving feature of a volume cannot be completely obliterated in the name of vulgar research, after all!


And, just a thought. Why is it that Edward II's chroniclers largely deplore him and, at best, either tolerate him or describe him with relish as a martyr and, in doing so, present a really unflattering and graphic picture (hi, Geoffrey le Baker!), while his son's chroniclers entitle their works things like "De Gestis Mirabilibus Regis Edwardi III"? He should have made favourites of men who were better at PR. Like Roger Mortimer.

... Well, he was. Until the power went to his head and he started setting himself up as the new King Arthur.

Also, because these were on my camera though I do not remember taking them, have some pictures of two much adored beagles. My lad, Oliver, is on top so that he can cuddle her better because he thinks she's the best thing ever, and my sister's girl, Solace, is snuggled in under her with the self-satisfied and rather coy expression of someone who has a man to look after her but has him right under her thumb, thank you. Except when she looks at me, when she takes on her pleaselove/feedmeI'lldoanything look. Beagles do that look very well. I think it's the ears. Also, that's a girl who knows how to apply (and use!) her eyeliner. While Oliver looks cheerfully and sleepily oblivious to feminine wiles, so long as he has a nice warm Solace-smelling body to cuddle.