Rogues' Gallery Part 2: Jack le Ireys (Jack le Irish)

I had originally intended this post to be about Gilbert de Middleton and his attack upon Louis de Beaumont (bishop elect of Durham) and two papal legates. However, the situation leading up to it is complicated and I have not as yet understood it enough to be able to write it in such a way that it is easy to understand by others. I also have a whole book to read through about the man first! So, instead of struggling and delaying a post any longer, I thought that I’d give you another ‘rogue’ instead:

Jack le Ireys (le Irish, le Irrais, le Irys)

Jack le Ireys is one of those shadowy figures who turns up from time to time in the records, usually when he had misbehaved, and yet we do not know much about him as a person.

A John le Ireys (he was also known as John) turns up in the Calendar of Patent Rolls in a record dated November 12^th 1308. In it he is accused, along with others, of tying John de Asshelond to a table and then having ‘pierced his feet with a hot iron, burned his face to the bone in five places with the same iron’[1], until the victim finally relented and signed a bond for 100 pounds to one of the participants (not John). It most probably is the same John/Jack le Ireys as the one mentioned in this post, but it is hard to be 100% sure as there are no other details about him, and there must have been other men called John the Irishman in the country at that time.

Jack’s first definite appearance in the records was in August 1314 when he was mentioned in the Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland vol 3, number 384, (originally PRO, SC 1/33/32) as being in the company of Colle de Derby, a justice of the Royal Household at Alnwick when Colle was attacked by Northumbrian men led by John de Lilleburn. De Derby, along with two other justices, had been responsible for the trying and hanging of several men, including John de Apsley who had been accused of trying to betray Berwick to the Scots. This action enraged many of the Northumbrian lords who swore to kill anyone from Berwick from in Northumbria. Colle and le Ireys had been on their way to the king from Alnwick when they were set upon. They were only saved from certain death when Sir John Felton, the warden of Alnwick, rode to their rescue.

He was acknowledged as being a yeoman in the king’s service in a record of April 3^rd 1315, where he was to receive wages of 100 pounds ‘for his wages and the wages of other men-at-arms, both horsemen and footmen, staying with him in the king’s service in the marches of Scotland.’[2] On June 19^th, Edward issued orders to the justice and treasurer of Ireland, because, ‘The king has heard that 80 horsemen of the lineage and alliance of his yeoman John le Ireys who are coming to John to serve the king in the war of Scotland have long been disturbed at sea for lack of ships.’[3] Not that Edward was going to pay for their transport though – they had to fund themselves (or at least Jack would). But, in my mind, this deepens the puzzle of who Jack was: 80 horsemen is a large retinue for a non-knight to command. Who were these men, and how were they connected with Jack? I wish I could track Jack’s lineage back into Ireland: he must have been from a noble family, even if not of the highest order.

In August 1315, after the death of Guy de Beauchamp, le Ireys’s star was still on the rise, as Edward evidently thought enough of his abilities to award him custody of Barnard Castle because Beauchamp’s heir was underage. But it is at this point that he started to blot his copybook. In November of that year, he and a group of his men abducted the widowed Lady Maud de Clifford from where she was staying at Bowes and took her the five miles back to Barnard. There, it is claimed by the Scalacronica, le Ireys ‘ravished’ her. This is a very emotive term and while in both the modern and Anglo Norman sense it could mean rape, in Anglo Norman it could also mean ‘to abduct forcibly’. So while some caution has to maintain over its true meaning in this circumstance, it is still a fact that the lady Maud was in le Ireys’s control and that he most probably had the intention of marrying her by force (although for some reason this did not happen – luckily for Maud).

Maud, or Matilda, de Clifford had been married to Sir Robert de Clifford, a wealthy magnate with extensive estates in the north. Apart from rebelling over Gaveston, he had been loyal to the king, and was killed at Bannockburn just over a year before. Edward must have felt some sorrow at the loss of such a trusted lord for, three months after his death he ordered a tun of wine to be given to the executors of Robert’s will for arranging his burial. She also had other powerful connections, as she was the daughter of Thomas de Clare Lord of Thomond and therefore cousin to Eleanor, Margaret and Elizabeth de Clare. With such wealth and connections, such a marriage would have provided le Ireys with power and a place in society – not to mention money.

However, if le Ireys thought Edward was going to let him get away the Maud’s abduction, he was very much mistaken. Maud was no second-rate heiress and le Ireys was no Robert de Clifford. Edward was staying at Clipstone, with his wife and the court when he heard of the outrage. He immediately sent a rescue force under the command of one of his most trusted and closest friends, William de Montacute (who, short time later, would be made steward of Edward’s household) of three knights and 36 esquires. At the same time he gave a commission of Oyer and Terminer to Bartholomew de Badlesmere (Maud’s brother-in-law), John de Moubray (her cousin), Jone de Doncastre and Thomas de Sheffield to look into the matter.

There are no accounts of what happened next at Barnard Castle, but it was in the hands of John le Castro by the 3^rd December and the rescue party returned Maud to the safety of king on the 6^th. Montacute took temporary custody of the castle, but le Ireys appeared to have fled to Tynemouth. In January 1316, Montacute made arrangements with the sheriff of Northumberland and le Ireys was finally detained and brought to justice.

The king however, must have been in a forgiving mood, for now that the situation had been resolved, le Ireys suffered no further punishment apart from being placed in an inferior role at Bamburgh Castle. Not that he changed his character much: both he and the constable of Bamburgh were soon accused of oppression by their neighbours in the ward of Bamburgh, charging them for admission into the castle and robbing them of their provisions. In mitigation it must be said that at the time the country was in a grip of a terrible famine, and Edward had not been too forthcoming in keeping his northern forts supplied. So many of the garrisons were forced to plunder goods from the neighbouring people in order to survive. It was, of course, not at all fair on those who had been victimised, but the early fourteenth century was not a fair world.

He must have had some charm though for, even despite the things he had done, Edward still held him in high affection to the end of his life, in 1317. The dying le Ireys retired to the Gilbertine Priory of St Katherine in Lincoln, and it was there that Edward contributed six pounds towards his medicines and keep. Chroniclers and later historians have often described le Ireys as a lawless, violent man, which indeed was the case. But he was one among many in the often lawless area of the northern marches, and he had to be that way to survive. When you look at his record, although bad to a 21^st century perspective, his actions were those of one trying to serve his king and also rise in society by whatever means possible. He was not in the same league as the thuggish Robert le Ewer, or even Gilbert de Middleton (who also had good reasons for his lawlessness), but even so, his name still has the taint of the same infamy, which is why I’ve put him into the rogue’s gallery.

And, just a last thought, one of pure speculation. If he hadn’t forced Maud de Clifford to marry him upon her abduction, could it also be possible that he had been a ‘gentleman’ enough not to lay a hand on her, hoping, perhaps to gain what he wanted by persuasion, either of her or of Edward? If so, that may explain Edward’s leniency towards him as surely any dishonouring of such a great and well-connected lady would have attracted far more censure. Whatever the case, the answer will never be known, just as, sadly, we will never know Jack’s true lineage or where he came from in Ireland.

---

[1] Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1307-1313, pps 168-169

[2] Calendar of Close Rolls, 1313-1318, p.165

[3] Calendar of Chancery Warrants 1244-1326, p.418

Bibliography

Primary Sources:

Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1307-1313

Calendar of Close Rolls, 1313-1318

Calendar of Chancery Warrants, 1244-1326

Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, Vol 3: AD 1307-1357

The Scalacronica of Sir Thomas Gray

Secondary Sources:

King, Andy, ‘Bandits, Robbers and Schavaldours: War and Disorder in Northumberland in the Reign of Edward III’, Thirteenth Century England IX, edited by Prestwich, Britnell & Frame, pps115-129

Middleton, Sir Arthur E., Sir Gilbert de Middleton And The Part He Took In The Rebellion In The North of England in 1317, Mawson Swan & Morgan Ltd, 1918

Rogues Gallery Part One: Robert le Ewer

After David Pilling's wonderful guest post on his new novel Folville's Law, I thought I would start a new series of posts looking at several 'rogues' in Edward II's time and just after. They were not necessarily criminal gangs on the make, but often formerly loyal household staff who decided to 'go off the rails', often in spectacular fashion!


This post looks at Robert le Ewer, a former royal sergeant who became a right royal pain.


I would also like to wish you all a peaceful and happy Christmas, whereever you are, and send you wishes for a healthy, happy and prosperous 2012!!



Robert le Ewer


Robert le Ewer is one of those men who rose from obscurity to royal favour before falling from grace in spectacular fashion, not just once, but twice! He is first mentioned as a sergeant of Edward I responsible for serving water in the hall, drying the king’s clothes and  preparing his bath. This gave him the name of le Ewer, or the water carrier, a name he kept all his life (hence we don’t have any idea of his family, place of birth etc). 


Evidently, he found favour in the royal chamber, for he was still active years later when Edward II came to the throne. He was not popular with everyone, however. The author of the Vita Edwardi Secundi, a contemporary chronicle, and one of the most accurate, writes about le Ewer in a disapproving manner:

This Robert, who had been brought up at court, was shrewd and active in military manners. Nevertheless, relying on his influence at court, and accustomed to lax morals from youth, he was always ready for plunder and killing.

The Vita goes on to tell us that on some unspecified date, Robert had, “killed a certain good man, and made off with his wife, with whom he had previously committed adultery.” 


There is nothing to back this up in extant records so either it didn’t happen (unlikely considering his later known character and the usual accuracy of the Vita) or else he got off pretty lightly due to his position at court. That he was still in favour is shown by a grant in 1309 of the reversion of the manor of Warblington near Portsmouth. He was also mentioned by name in the 1311 Ordinances as one of those who should be banished from court:

Item, Robert Lewer, archers and such manner of ribaldry shall be removed from the king’s wages, and not stay in his service, except in war.

This may have been another a comment on his ‘lax morals’ especially as he was lumped together with archers, known for their bawdy behaviour. His expulsion, if it happened at all, was not long-lived. He was soon put in charge of Odiham Castle, a place that was to become central to his later misdemeanors. Confident that he was more or less untouchable, he pushed his luck to the limit, disseizing Isabella, the widow of Hugh Bardolf of the manor of Warblington and also attempting to take some free tenements from her in the neighbouring manor of Emsworth. She in turn petitioned Edward for their return but he ignored the summons to appear before the King’s Bench. On July 6th, Edward sent the justices of the King’s Bench no less than three writs in le Ewer’s defence,overturning the forfeiture. Le Ewer, he said, was at the time in his service, and was still with him.


Up until 1320, le Ewer seems to have more or less behaved himself (or if he didn’t, there is no record of it). However, by 1320 things had changed at court and Hugh Despenser the younger was now high in favour.  In February of that year, Edward made Hugh constable of Odiham Castle and ordered le Ewer to hand the place over. This wasn’t necessarily unusual, constables of castles were replaced or moved on elsewhere all the time. However, le Ewer seemed to take great exception to being removed and committed several acts of disobedience and trespasses which soon came to the king’s notice. An order for his arrest was issued in August but le Ewer did not intend on submitting peacefully. He successfully threw off the arresting officers by force, and also:

...threatened some of the king’s faithful subjects with [loss of] life and limb, asserting that he would slay them and cut them up limb by limb wherever he should find them, either in the presence or the absence of the king, in contempt of the king’s order and in rebellion. 

Another order to arrest and imprison him, directed mainly at the sheriff of Southampton was made on August 18th, with Edward calling le Ewer “so vile a person”. It seemed that le Ewer had finally tested Edward’s patience too far and that the only prospect left for him was a slow death death at the end of a rope. Somehow, though, he managed to avoid capture and during his time on the run, the politics at court took a turn for the worse for Edward. Several of the marcher barons rose up against Edward in protest at Hugh Despenser’s land grabbing and general conduct in an action that saw the Despenser lands despoiled and England in danger of civil war. Remembering that le Ewer was a capable soldier and commander, the king, in June, sent out a safe conduct for le Ewer’s return and pardoned him in return for le Ewer’s return to loyal service to the crown. Le Ewer, once again given the custody of Odiham castle, must have thought that God certainly moved in mysterious ways.

Odiham Castle, as it looks today

Robert was very active in the king’s service during the Contrariant rebellion in 1321-22. After the siege of Leeds Castle, he was sent to help arrest certain rebels, including, in December, Bartholomew Badlesmere and the king’s former favourites, Roger Damory and Hugh Audley. The accused contrariants escaped, however, and headed north. Le Ewer was one of the men named who took Roger Mortimer of Wigmore and Roger Mortimer of Chirk to the Tower in London after their surrender in January 1322, and he was put in command of Edward’s household infantry at the battle of Boroughbridge in March.


So all seemed to be going swimmingly well for Robert post Boroughbridge: he was back in favour, with a position of responsibility and had Odiham Castle back. Surely, for a man who wasn’t even a knight, he must have been happy with his lot. Apparently not. He was summoned for duty once more on Edward’s Scottish campaign of late summer 1322 but this time he seemed less keen to be by Edward’s side. He arrived to the summons late and seems to have been one of the men who deserted the king at some point in the whole debacle. Already furious from his failure to subdue the Scots and his near capture at Byland, Edward ordered le Ewer to come and explain his unexpected disappearance. There was no answer from le Ewer, so four days later the king once again ordered his arrest, and that of John Wyard, John du Chastel, Richard de Harle and Robert le Harle, to be taken dead of alive, “the king being given to understand that the said Robert and the others have risen against him.”


Le Ewer’s about face may have had something to do with Hugh Despenser the elder. At the very least he seemed to have something against him, as one of le Ewer’s first acts was to attack some manors belonging to the now earl of Winchester and to carry off his goods. However, instead of keeping the ill-gotten gains to himself, he distributed them to the poor of the area. The author of the Vita has this to say about the incident:

And there Sir [sic] Robert made a great distribution to the poor in the name of alms for the souls of the said barons. From this he profited little, because God has regard to the intention rather than the deed. That cannot be called alms which comes from theft or rapine. For, as is said elsewhere, it is a kind of theft to distribute largesse from the goods of another without consent of the lord.

The said barons, by the way, were Warin Lisle and Henry Tyes, both executed after Boroughbridge. It was their former manors, given to Despenser, that le Ewer raided. Another possibility for his desertion of Edward was that he had links with these men and had been angered by their treatment. Certainly something had provoked him beyond good reason for him to risk so much.


As for Despenser the elder, he feared for his life at the hands of le Ewer and so retreated to Windsor Castle where, so the Vita says, he, “set a watch, night and day, until he gathered a force sufficient to capture Robert and his retinue”.


That September, Edward once again took Odiham castle from le Ewer and gave its custody to John de Sancto Johanne  (de St John) of Basing. It seems that le Ewer may have still been using it at the time as the relevant entry in the Calendar of Patent Rolls says: “Appointment [...] of the said John and Ralph de Camoys to attach Robert Lewer (sic) and to take the castle by force if he refuses to surrender”.


Once again le Ewer escaped capture and went into hiding for a couple of months. Then, in November, he launched an attack on Odiham castle but failed to seize it. Then he ransacked the king’s manor at Ichehull and “carried away the king’s goods”.


It must have been obvious, even to le Ewer, that this time there was no way back. According to the Vita, he, along with his wife, Margery, went to Southampton (rather a stupid place to go, as he was well known there), to try and find a passage to France.  However he was seen and arrested; this time he did not manage to escape.


At his trial, Robert refused to answer to the accusations put against him, and so was sentenced to the punishment that was commonly used for prisoners who refused to submit to the law: peine forte et dure (strong and hard punishment). The Vita describes the punishment thus:

The prisoner shall sit on the cold, bare floor, dressed only in the thinnest of shirts, and pressed with as great a weight of iron as his wretched body can bear. His food shall be a little of the worst sort of bread, and his drink cloudy and stinking water. The day on which he eats he shall not drink, and on the day on which he has drunk he shall not taste bread.

Peine forte et dure (picture is of Giles Corey undergoing the torment in 1692)

Le Ewer lasted for a few days under this torment before he died. Several people around the country were indicted, arrested and imprisoned for aiding and abetting him, their goods and lands forfeit to the crown. His wife was also imprisoned, and while others of the accused were soon released upon the payment of a fine, it appears that she was kept in prison until 30th July 1324. On 9th September she was finally pardoned, “for having been lately in rebellion against the king”.

Interestingly, there is a petition in the National Archives dated 1324 in which Margery, le Ewer’s then widow, asks that she be acquitted of the murder of one Peter de Boscombe, claiming that she has been falsely accused. It is more likely that the murder was committed by her husband, given his reputation, but who Peter de Boscombe was, I cannot ascertain. He may have been a man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during one of le Ewer’s rampages, or maybe he was the husband of le Ewer’s mistress that the Vita talked about.


In summary then, le Ewer was a bit of a thorn in the royal side during the later years of his life, but up until then he had been a loyal servant (if not always popular with the other courtiers). The reason for his first defiance of Edward was probably due to losing Odiham. Maybe he felt he deserved the position of constable there, that he’d worked hard for the king and been unappreciated. The reason for his second rebellion is not as easy to speculate upon, but probably had something to do with the executions of Lisle and Tyes and also some sort of feud with the elder Despenser. He was certainly an angry man, most likely an over-proud man, and one who obviously didn’t think through, or didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. That he was forgiven once was a tribute to his military prowess, but there was very little chance that he would be forgiven twice.


Sources:


Vita Edwardi Secundi
Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1313-1318, 1318-1323
Calendar of the Patent Rolls, 1317-1321, 1321-1324
Calendar of Ancient Petitions (accessed at http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/documentsonline/details-result.asp?queryType=1&resultcount=1&Edoc_Id=7712991
The Fine Rolls, Vol III
Natalie Fryde, The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II 1321-1326