by Frances Gies
It may be doubted that hallmotes insisted on such exquisite perfection of jargon, but it is known that defendants and litigants in serious cases were often alert to slips of language by which technical flaws could be imputed and judgment perhaps evaded.11
The steward in The Court Baron next addresses the accused: “Fair friend Stephen, this court awards that you be at your law six-handed at the next court to acquit yourself,” to which the defendant replies, “Willingly, sir.”12 “Be at your law six-handed” meant that Stephen was to bring with him five men who would join him in swearing either that his account of the case was true or that he was himself a trustworthy person. In cases of more serious character or when there was reason to doubt the accused, he might be called on to “be at your law twelve-handed,” requiring him to find eleven “oath helpers.” Oath helping, or compurgation, was by 1300 a basic element of medieval jurisprudence. The sense of it was that several men who attested the truth of their statements on the holy relics would be unlikely to swear their souls away simultaneously.13
At this point a uniquely medieval step in the court’s procedure took place: both plaintiff and defendant were ordered to “find pledges,” persons to act as sureties to guarantee their appearance in court. Such personal pledging was also used to guarantee fulfillment of a promised obligation, or even that the pledge’s subject would behave himself. Pledges were held accountable by the court and were liable to fine: “John Page and John Fraunceys were pledges of Henry Smith for the payment of two shillings to John son of Alexander in the Lane…and nothing is paid. Therefore both of them in mercy [fined]…Better pledges are William of Barnwell and Reginald son of Benedict.”14 Those needing pledges sought them among the better class of fellow villagers, those with substantial holdings, who served in village offices. Reeves and beadles were especially in demand. Pledges’ fines were usually three pence, half the standard fine for most offenses. Husbands commonly acted as pledges for wives, but otherwise most pledging was extra-familial.15
The Court Baron stipulated a particular order in which cases should be heard. In real life the hallmote heard cases by category, but the categories followed no discernible order. The invariably lengthy list of fines for the ale brewers sometimes led off the Elton calendar, sometimes concluded it, and sometimes came in the middle. In 1279, twenty-three violations of the assize of ale were recorded at the end of the court record, just before the selection of new ale tasters. Prior to the brewing violations, thirty-four cases were presented. Ten dealt with defaults of harvest or plow work, three with chevage, the rest with a variety of offenses, from the diversion of a watercourse by a neighboring village to a theft of furrows by a villager.16 The dispatch with which cases were handled compared with that of a modern traffic court. Yet “the law’s delay” was already an established judicial feature. Most defendants were permitted three summonses, three distraints (for failing to appear), and three essoins (excuses for non-appearance), making nine successive postponements.17
Litigations between villagers began with a complaint: “John Juvet complains of John Hering.” “Robert Maynard complains of Gilbert de Raundes.” “Thomas Clerk complains of Nicholas son of Richard Smith.” The complainant brought suit—in other words, he brought men with him to vouch for the truth of his complaint. Both he and the defendant were then ordered to find pledges.
Once the suit was initiated, if the complainant did not carry it through, he and his pledge were fined. “From Ralph Hert and Isolda his wife and their pledge, namely Reginald Child, for their non-suit against Richard Reeve and John Abovebrook, six pence.”18 The defendant might wage his law, as John of Elton did “sufficiently” in 1294 against Emma Prudhomme, who had made accusations against him, and who was herself consequently fined.19 Or the case might be postponed. The delay might result in settlement, either through the defendant’s offering to pay a fine or through the two litigants reaching an out-ofcourt agreement. Such compacts were encouraged by the judicial device of the “love-day” (dies amoris), on which the parties to a dispute were directed to try to reconcile their differences.20 An out-of-court settlement, however, could not be allowed to become an out-of-pocket settlement for the lord. The parties still owed a fee, in this case recorded under the title of “license to agree”: “From John son of John of Elton for license to agree with John of Langetoft and Alice his wife sixpence.” “From Nicholas le Rous for license to agree with Henry Daysterre and Emma his wife four pence.”21 Part of the agreement was the determination of which of the two parties would pay the fine.
Yet the court was lenient toward the destitute, or realistic about the difficulty of getting blood out of turnips. “In mercy, but [fined] nothing because [he or she is] poor,” recurs many times in the records.
At least once a year, usually in late winter or spring, a form of manorial court known as the view (review) of frankpledge was held. A uniquely English institution, frankpledge antedates the Conquest.22 All the village’s male residents under the age of twelve belonged to units of ten or a dozen called frankpledges or tithings, each of which was collectively responsible for the behavior of its members, and whose interests it defended. If a man was accused by a neighbor, the members of his tithing were responsible for his appearance in court. At the head of each tithing was a leader called a chief pledge, an important man in the village: “It was commanded to Hugh Achard and his tithing at the last view to have [a certain man] at this court and he had him not. Therefore he and his tithing in mercy.”23
The tithing was not kinship-based, though in some ways it served the purpose of the old clan or supra-family group. Originally it was a cell in the royal administration, and its review in some places was still performed by the king’s sheriff (shire-reeve, chief officer of the shire), but usually the local lord had acquired frankpledge along with manorial justice. Carried out by the steward, the view of frankpledge assured the integrity of the village’s tithings, making certain that every boy turning twelve years of age and every male newcomer to the village acquired membership. By the end of the thirteenth century, the tithing system and personal pledging were showing signs of decadence as the royal courts developed more modern juridical techniques, such as prison and bail.24
In theory, and perhaps at one time in fact, there was some distinction in procedure and type of case between the regular hallmote and the view of frankpledge, but by the late thirteenth century it had virtually disappeared. The Court Baron’s list of offenses typically heard by the view of frankpledge—shedding of blood, rape, theft of grain or poultry, placing a dung-heap in the high street, building a fence on a neighbor’s land or on the king’s highway—are very much the same things heard in ordinary hallmotes.25 However, where the hallmote, usually held in the autumn, elected the reeve, beadle, and wardens of autumn, the view of frankpledge chose the village ale tasters.26
Killers, professional robbers, and other hardened felons, regular defendants in the royal courts, were rarely seen in the hallmote, which was nevertheless no stranger to violent crime. It was reported in several different forms: “Agnes daughter of Philip Saladin raised the hue-and-cry upon Thomas of Morburn who wanted to have sex with her.”27 “Matilda Prudhomme justly raised the hue-and-cry against John Blaccalf because he drew blood from Hugh the man of the said Matilda.”28 “The wife of Matfrid and her daughter justly raised the hue-and-cry upon Henry Marshal because he beat them.”29 “It was found by neighboring jurors that John ate Lane maliciously assaulted Alice his stepmother in her own house…and beat, ill-treated, and maimed the said Alice with a stick, breaking her right hand.”30
The last category of assault, in the victim’s own home, was considered a graver offense than similar violence on neutral ground, and was usually designated hamsoken: “Matilda Saladin justly raised the hue-and-cry upon five men of Sir Gilbert de Lyndsey who were committing hamsoken upon Philip Saladin and beat and badly treated him.”31 Similarly, drawing blood was regarded as especially serious.
The hue-and-cry raised
by the victim, or by a relative, neighbor, friend, or passerby, obligated everyone within earshot to drop what he was doing and come to the rescue. Failure to do so brought a collective penalty: “And they say that Alexander Prudhomme badly beat Henry son of Henry Smith [who] justly raised the hue-and-cry upon him. Not prosecuted, villata fined two shillings [and] commanded to distrain Alexander to answer.”32
Blood did not have to be actually shed, or even a blow struck, to justify the hue-and-cry. Richard son of Richard Reeve gave clear indication of a desire to beat Richard Blakeman, who “by reason of terror and fear” was justified in the jurors’ eyes in raising the hue-and-cry.33
On the other hand, the hue was not to be raised lightly or wrongfully: “The jurors say that Adam Fot committed hamsoken upon Andrew son of Alkusa and nonetheless the wife of the said Adam unjustly raised the hue-and-cry upon the same Andrew. Fine sixpence.”34 Anyone raising the hue was obliged immediately to find a personal pledge to support his claim of raising it justly.
Sometimes two parties to an altercation raised the hue against each other, in which case the court decided which was justified: “Henry Abovebrook justly raised the hue-and-cry upon Richard Sabyn. Richard fined sixpence…And they say that Richard Sabyn unjustly raised the hue-and-cry upon Henry Abovebrook. Richard fined [an additional] sixpence.”35
When the hue-and-cry posse collared its quarry, he was turned over to the bailiff, the reeve, or the beadle. In Elton in 1312 the beadle was fined three pence “because he did not arrest John son of Matfrid, a bondman, to answer concerning the hue-and-cry.”36
Serious injury in an assault case brought damages along with the fine: “It is found by the jurors that Robert Sabyn assaulted Nicholas Miller and beat him to his damage of sixpence. Fine sixpence.”37 The three men who assaulted Gilbert son of Reginald le Wyse in 1279 were directed to “satisfy him for damages” as well as pay a sixpence fine.38 Similarly in cases of property damage: for the malicious injury to the house of Richard son of Elias done by Thomas of Chausey in 1308, Thomas was directed to pay sixpence damages along with the usual sixpence fine.39
Only rarely do the Elton records reveal a punishment imposed other than a fine. In the case in 1292 in which John ate Lane was convicted of maliciously assaulting his stepmother and breaking her hand, the account concludes, “Therefore the said John is put in the stocks.”40
Moral transgression was a precinct of the law in which the superior competence of the Church courts was conceded, and in which canon law had developed an extensive literature. Adultery was the most conspicuous of moral offenses, and drew the Church’s most severe penalties, typically a whipping for peasants, a heavy fine for their betters. The Church also ruled on the validity of marriage contracts (an active legal issue in the absence of state licensing or requirement of witnesses), separations, and prescribed penances for such delinquencies as departing from the traditional posture in intercourse.41
Nevertheless, the lord took an interest in sex mores, at least a financial interest, focusing on men and women previously haled into Church court for adultery, and young women detected indulging in premarital sex. The jurors were relied on to report cases of leirwite, or of matrimony without the lord’s license, and were fined for failing to do so.
A village woman, however, ran a much greater risk of being fined for her brewing than for her dallying. “[Allota] is a common brewer at a penny and sometimes at a halfpenny, and sold before the tasting [by the village ale tasters] and sometimes made [the ale] weak. Therefore [she is] in mercy two shillings.”42 “Alice wife of Blythe [sold] three times at a halfpenny and at a penny and sold before the tasting, did not bring her measures [to be checked]. Twelve pence.” “Matilda Abovebrook at a halfpenny and a penny, sometimes weak ale, she sells before the tasting, did not bring her measures. Sixpence.”43 Sometimes the lengthy list of women (only six men ever appear among Elton brewers) is simply put down in the court record with the fine noted. The unfailing frequency of the ale fines has led to a conjecture that the assize of ale was a sort of back-door license fee collected by the lord in lieu of the monopoly he had failed to obtain in this important branch of village business.44 At the same time, the very number of home brewers makes credible a need for government regulation, while the fines varied and the charges differed: the ale is “weak,” “not of full value,” “not worth the money,” the measures are not sealed, the price is too high. Enforcement of standards for price and quality was of value to consumers, and the insistence on checking brewers’ measures indicates serious purpose.
In Elton as everywhere that open field agriculture prevailed, a large proportion of the manor court’s business consisted of enforcement of the bylaws and customs governing crops and pasture. Reeve and bailiff were mainly responsible for bringing to book defaulters on work obligations, but for surveillance of the army of harvest workers they had the help of the two “wardens of autumn.” “The wardens of autumn present that Master Stephen made default at one boon-work…Therefore let him be distrained to answer [be arrested and brought to court].” “Of Reginald Child for the same at another boon-work of the autumn of one man [as] above. Pledge Richard the beadle.” “Of John Heryng for the same of one man three pence. Pledge Roger Gamel.” “Of Robert Chapman for the same of one man sixpence. Pledge John Page.”45 Failure to appear, tardiness, or simply performing the service badly brought sure, if moderate, penalties.
“I do not advise you to plead against your lord,” warned a satiric poem ascribed to a canon of Leicester Abbey. “Peasant, you will be vanquished…You must endure what the custom of the earth has given you.”46 Modern scholar George C. Homans, however, has written: “The striking fact is that many such disputes [between lord and tenant] were settled in the hallmote just as they would have been if the parties had both been simple villagers.” Homans cites a case involving tenants of the Bishop of Chichester in 1315, in which an inquest of three hallmotes backed the tenants in their refusal to cart dung for the lord. “The lord’s arbitrary will was bounded, or rather he allowed it to be bounded, by custom as found by the tenants.”47
A number of cases in Elton pitted villagers against the lord, his steward, or his lesser officials. In 1312 “John Troune entered a plea contrary to the lord’s statutes” and was fined sixpence for contempt.48 Two men who pleaded “in opposition to the steward” in the court of 1331 were fined three pence and sixpence, respectively.49 Thus an individual peasant, as the canon of Leicester warned, appears to have been at a substantial disadvantage in pleading against his betters. But in three other cases, though no final outcome is recorded, the villagers’ side of the argument is unmistakably accorded a respectful hearing. One difference in these cases is that the other party was not the lord or his steward, but a lesser official or officials. Another difference, highly significant in the light of later history, is that the village viewpoint was maintained not by an individual tenant but by a large group of villagers, or even the whole village united.
All three cases were heard in 1300. In the first the villagers accused the bailiff and his assistants of having dug a ditch to enclose “a certain place which is called Gooseholm where they planted willows, which place is a common pasture for all the men of the whole village.” In the second case, they accused the bailiffs of encroaching on a furlong called Michelgrove by taking away from all the lands abutting on it “to the breadth of four feet.”50 Presumably the officials were doing their encroaching in the interests of the lord’s demesne, though there is no indication that they were acting under instructions.
The third case involved an exchange of complaints between the villagers and Hugh Prest, the claviger. First the jurors reported that “the bailiffs of the lord unjustly hinder the community of the vill of Elton from driving by the way which is called the Greenway all their draught-beasts and other animals, whereas they ought to have it for the common of their pasture.” In turn, Hugh Prest cited nine villagers, most of them virgaters, “because they drove their beasts by the way wh
ich is called Greenway when the furlongs of the lord abbot abutting thereupon were sown.” The jurors protested strongly: “And they say that they and all men of the vill of Elton ought by right to have the said droveway at all times of the year, inasmuch as all strangers passing by the same way can have a free droveway with their animals of all kinds without challenge or hindrance.”
Hugh Prest replied that although strangers were permitted to use the droveway, in the past “the said customary tenants and their partners have sometimes contributed four shillings to the use of the lord for having their droveway when the furlongs of the lord there had been sown.” The anger and indignation of the villagers is unmistakable in the reply recorded in the court rolls: “And the aforesaid customary tenants and all others of the vill, free tenants as well as others, and also the twelve jurors whose names are contained at the beginning of the roll, say and swear that if any money has been contributed by the customary tenants of the vill to have their droveway there, the said claviger has taken that money at his will by distraint and extortion and has levied it from them unjustly.” The steward, clearly embarrassed at “seeing the dissension and discord between the claviger demanding and the said men gainsaying him, was unwilling to pronounce judgment against the claviger”—as the united villagers clearly insisted. Instead he “left this judgment wholly to the disposition of the lord abbot, that the same lord, having scrutinized the register concerning the custom in the matter of this demand, should do and ordain as he should see ought to be done according to the will of God.”51
Although no further record of the case has survived, it seems unlikely that the abbot provoked further resentment by the villagers over a problem that touched his interests only lightly and vexed them so much. Homans perhaps exaggerates in claiming that “The lord, in his own court and in a case in which his interest was involved, was treated much like any other villager.”52 Nevertheless, the steward’s conciliatory attitude toward the angry Elton tenants is noteworthy. One peasant breaking a rule was easy to deal with; a whole village up in arms over what it deemed an infringement of village rights was something else.