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 12th
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 3rd 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 19th, 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 3rd
December and the rescue party returned Maud to the safety of king on the 6th.
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 21st 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
