An Englishman’s home: the early castles of Lincolnshire [slide 1]

 

Society for Lincolnshire History and Archaeology, 7 February 2013, Horncastle
(For the PowerPoint presentation that accompanies this lecture, please contact David Roffe)

 

The last time I was here in Horncastle was, I think, in 1978 or possibly 1979. I can’t recall the subject of the conference – it was one of those excellent weekends organized by Geoff Bryant - but I suppose it must have been something on medieval England. What does stick vividly in my mind, though, is a lively lecture delivered by Allen Brown on English castles [slide 2]. This picture of Allen was taken five or six years later at Pyke House in Battle. You see him dressed in tunic, birnie, and helmet, and equipped with sword, lance, and shield. We were on the site of the Battle of Hastings and I think the exercise was ostensibly didactic. What was it like to experience a cavalry charge up that steep slope to where the English army had been drawn up? Well, I can tell you it was frightening, especially when Allen’s horse bolted, scattered the Battle Conference delegates, and nearly threw Allen over a barbed wire fence. For Allen, though, it was all delightful, a defining moment indeed: at heart he was a romantic.

            In a cavalry regiment himself in the second world war, thereafter an archivist at the PRO, and then an inspiring scholar and teacher at King’s College, London, Allen had a deep sympathy for the Normans which permeated his understanding of Anglo-Norman England. For him the mounted knight with couched lance, the knight fee, and the castle were emblematic of a new aristocratic military society that William brought to England in 1066. Before the Conquest, he argued, there were few professional soldiers. Fighting on foot, the English warrior was lightly armed and in consequence needed few resources to support him. By contrast, the heavily armed knight was every bit a specialist and required extensive lands for his maintenance. Military tactics, the knight fee, and the castle presupposed a feudalism that was foreign to England. For Allen Brown, the castle, along with the society that went with it, was an essentially Norman institution.

            Almost 40 years on, the ‘f’ word is no longer used in polite academic circles. Discourse tends to be in terms of lordship. This was a phenomenon that was common to both English and Norman societies and it is now recognized that the hundred years before the Norman Conquest saw the emergence of an increasingly super-rich elite every bit as specialized in function as after. English society was already militarized in 1066. Castles are still seen as a Norman innovation, but are now interpreted as a marker of lordship within a longer common tradition. Castellogists no longer think in narrow military terms. The castle was a residence, an estate centre, and above all a symbol. It was the Farrari of the eleventh century [slide 3] and it was as important to be seen to own one as to drive it fast.

            We now have a much more nuanced picture of the development of English society on the one hand, and military organization on the other. Allen Brown’s understanding was a flamboyant development of a nineteenth-century historiography. John Horace Round [slide 4] first formulated the concept of the ‘introduction of knight service’ after the Conquest and Ella Armitage [slide 5] identified existing castle earthworks as the physical counterpart of the phenomenon. By 1979, however, cracks were beginning to appear in the edifice. ‘Events, dear boy, events’, as Harold Macmillan said. A season is a long time in archaeology, as Harold Wilson almost said: Allen had a hard time defending his thesis here at Horncastle. In the early 1970s Guy Beresford had excavated a motte and bailey castle at the site now known as ‘Goltho’ in Lincolnshire. I put Goltho in inverted commas because Paul Everson subsequently identified the site as Bullington. To his surprise, Beresford found a multiphase Anglo-Saxon defended site beneath the Norman castle. With a ditch some 8 feet deep and a rampart 7 feet high, this was a castle in everything but name [slide 6]. This is a rather fanciful reconstruction, but will give you some idea. Subsequently defended sites of a similar type came to light elsewhere. The most famous examples are Sulgrave, Castle Acre, and Earl’s Barton. Many other sites have now been suggested.

            It was discoveries like these that added substance to a reinterpretation of the structure of Anglo-Saxon society that was already underway. Forty odd years ago when I first started studying Lincolnshire, the notion was still prevalent that pre-Conquest England was largely untrammelled by the demands of lordship. The typical freeman, it was thought, was subject only to the king and it was he who was the mainstay of the fyrd, the army, that defended the Anglo-Saxon realm. I think that it is this picture that makes the noble Anglo-Saxon warrior so popular with re-enactors today [slide 7]. We now know, however, that it is inaccurate. The Danish invasions, and the measures that were taken to counter them, saw a rapid militarization of society from 850 onwards. Society became highly stratified. The defence of the shire or, more usually, a group of shires was entrusted to an earl. He was responsible for the levy of local militias. All freemen were obliged to fight in defence of their locality. It is from this duty that we get the idea of the peasant soldier of the Anglo-Saxon period. However, the earl also had his own retainers. He was not alone. In parallel there were king’s thegns who owed personal service directly to the king. They too had their own men who, like the earl’s retainers, were commended to their lord. Commendation involved an oath of allegiance and committed the earl or the king’s thegn to protect the interests of his men. In Old English terms it made the man law-worthy. In return, the median thegn, as he is called, or freeman helped his lord to acquit the service due to the king. He fought beside him in his retinue.

            In this rigid stratification of society England followed developments on the Continent. But there was a crucial difference between the experience on either side of the Channel. In Europe public authority lost control and royal and imperial powers passed into seigneurial hands. They became privatized. Lords assumed proprietorial rights over both lands and jurisdictions. England, however, was different. Liberties there were  here and there. The closest to us was the Soke of Peterborough in Northamptonshire to the south and Holderness in Yorkshire to the north. However, by and large successive kings managed to retain control of local government even in the worst times of crisis. How that came about is a fascinating story. Briefly, it is related to the way in which the kings of Wessex incorporated Mercia and the Danelaw into the kingdom of England. They did so through the network of hundreds - wapentakes in our part of the world - and shires that made up the distinctive machinery of local government in England. The system depended for its workings on the free communities of the localities. Freemen dominated its courts and by forging an alliance with them, the king was able to resist divisive forces, be they over mighty subjects or marauding Danes. If you want a parallel you might think about the way in which administration worked in British imperial India.

            But that’s another tale. If you are interested you can pursue the subject on my website. The important point today is that land, real estate if you like, remained in the hands of freemen, whether they be thegns or peasants. Lords merely had rights over land and the families that held it. This is where the confusion has come from in the past. The fact that freemen had full rights in their land had convinced historians that they could not be subject to lords other than the king. That reasoning, if you ask me, merely indicates lack of imagination. It’s the curse of the concept of feudalism. Put pre-conceived notions on one side, it really is simple. We all have property rights of one kind or another today, but that does not stop the government or government agencies from demanding taxes from us and being able to levy charges on our houses, or even confiscating them, if we do not pay. Anglo-Saxon freemen were in precisely the same position but with some dues going to the king and others to their lords. The threat of the loss of land, and with it status, was an excellent incentive to perform the services demanded of them and thereby became the main motor of loyalty to the king.

            Domesday Book allows us to see how this skein of relationships worked on the eve of the Conquest. Equally importantly for our present purposes, it also shows how they influenced the Norman settlement that followed. The Domesday survey was commissioned in late 1085 to audit the lands and income of the king and to reassess the services of the king’s barons, the tenants-in-chief. In the process much detail was recorded about the holders of land in ‘on the day on which King Edward the Confessor was alive and dead’, that is in 4 January 1066. The Lincolnshire folios of Domesday Book, the great epitome of the survey, are amongst the most eloquent on the nature of tenure and lordship in 1066. There we find that all the great lords of the county held their land with sake and soke. A list is conveniently provided at the head of the account of the county [slide 8]. Now, if you read the Phillimore edition of the Lincolnshire Domesday – the red covered paperbacks that you probably know - you will find sake and soke translated as ‘full jurisdiction’. That is misleading. Sake, ‘cause’ in the legal sense, certainly contains the idea of jurisdiction, but soke had a much wider meaning. In this context it refers to ‘the king’s two pennies’, that is dues that were owed to the crown in place of what had originally been a food rent. It was these rights that the king granted to the king’s thegns – hence their name – by charter or what was known as a book. Thus, it was that they, the king’s thegns, or their lessees, came to have what the king might normally expect to have from his free subjects. At all times, it must however be emphasized, royal rights in taxation, the geld, and public dues were retained and rendered in the hundred or wapentake.

            Exercised over lands of freemen, sake and soke, then, was the glue, if you like, of lordship before the Conquest. If the concept begins to sound familiar, then you will not be surprised to learn that sake and soke continued to inform lordship after 1066. I am, of course, not talking in terms of continuity of tenure, that is the people on the ground. In the aftermath of the revolts against the Normans from 1068 to 1070, almost all of the Old English aristocracy was dispossessed. Lincolnshire was only exceptional in this regard in that two Englishmen of substance remained in 1086 out of a total of 67 major landholders. Kolsveinn was probably the son or nephew of a local staller, that is a military commander, and was almost certainly constable of Lincoln castle. Kolgrimr was the queen’s reeve in Grantham and probably continued in that office after 1066. Both survived precisely because they were expert in the running of the machinery of local government and estate management. Both retained something of their pre-Conquest estates or those of their family.

The rest of the Lincolnshire landholders were newcomers. Nevertheless, we see  continuity of tenurial forms when we look at their estates. A common view is that William the Conqueror distributed the land anew. He gave blocks of estates to support strategic castles, but otherwise ensured that no lord had any great concentration in any one area. We can certainly see the first process in one part of Lincolnshire. The Isle of Axholme was granted in its entirety to Geoffrey de la Guerche. Astride the rivers Trent, Don, and Idle, the Isle commanded access to Nottinghamshire and south Yorkshire and therefore had to be entrusted to a safe pair of hands. It stands alone in the county. Otherwise, however, there is no sign of random distribution of estates. Domesday Book shows that Norman lords derived their title from one or a number of pre-Conquest antecessores, that is predecessors, who had held their lands with sake and soke. Gilbert de Ghent, for example, succeeded to the lands of Ulf Fenisc and Tonne; Walter de Aincurt to those of Thorir, Hemming, and Healfdene; the earl of Chester to those of Earl Harold, that is King Harold II. In all cases these barons held the lands that were in the soke of their predecessors and held by their men. It was English rights and English law that determined the shape of honours in 1086. If you should want further confirmation of this fact, then you only have to go to twelfth-century law codes. There you will find that tenure in barony was defined by the right of sake and soke.

            Notions of the feudal revolution and the like are, then, a misapprehension. That is, of course, not to say that there were no changes after 1066. Far from it. There were many in the hundred years following, not the least being a further territorialization of lordship. The point here, however, is that we are dealing with an evolution of English tenure rather than the wholesale introduction of foreign forms. The idea of the creation of the knight and the introduction of knight service is a misconception. We must, then, question the received wisdom that castles were also a Norman innovation. There can be no doubt, I think, that the motte was a continental import and it was seen as such. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle there was outrage at the construction of the new type of earthwork - called by the French word castel - sometime before 1051 at Richard’s Castle in Herefordshire [slide 9]. This is what remains of the offending structure. Significantly, though, the scandal was not the fact of fortification itself, but the usurpation of royal and comital power that accompanied it by its Norman lord Richard fitzScrope. This could only bode ill. By contrast, fortification in itself was the norm. The earthwork and the tower had probably long symbolized lordship in England. An early eleventh-century text known as the Geþyncðo, ‘the promotion law’, states that:

if a ceorl prospered so that he had fully five hides of his own land (agenes landes), church and kitchen, bell house and burh-geat, and seat and special office in the king's hall, then was he thenceforth entitled to the rank of a thegn.

Burh-geat is the telling term here. Burh has the root meaning of fortification and geat is ‘gate‘, suggesting together a gatehouse or defended tower. The thegn in question is clearly a king’s thegn – he serves the king after all - and it is possession of the burh-geat that most immediately distinguishes him from those of lesser rank.

            So, a house, and presumably the estate centre that it presupposes, was at one and the same time a symbol of lordship. Goltho is put into context. After the Conquest Norman castles performed exactly the same function. Those of Lincolnshire nicely illustrate the point. The castles of Stamford and Lincoln were probably the first to be built, dating from the start of the Norman campaign in the North in 1068 against English rebels. Royal castles are usually seen as intrusions into towns. Domesday Book shows that many houses were often destroyed and there can be no doubt that there was frequently considerable disruption in their construction. But as a phenomenon, defended enclosures in towns were not an innovation. It was usual for both the king and earl to have burhs within or immediately without boroughs. The most famous is perhaps Aldermanbury in London, but examples are known from many other urban centres. In York and Shrewsbury the king’s enclosure was within the borough, as was the earl’s in Exeter. By contrast, at Gloucester and Northampton, it was outside. In many cases Conquest castles were merely modifications of these centres of power. Thus, it is clear from Domesday Book [slide 10] that Stamford Castle was built within a substantial manor outside the borough which had been held in 1066 by Edward the Confessor’s queen Edith. The church of St Peter’s marks its nucleus and it seems to have incorporated Portland, ‘the land belonging to the borough’, to the west [slide 11]. We have no evidence for defences at that time, but the site was surrounded by a double ditch and palisade in its earliest phases [slide 12].

            It seems likely that the Bail in Lincoln where the castle was built had also been an administrative centre in 1066. It has been argued that the earl’s burh was situated there. But, to my mind, the passage cited as evidence does not support the assertion. I would suggest that if comital burh there were it was in Washingborough to the south of the city across the Witham. However, the medieval tenurial profile of the Bail was certainly more aristocratic than the Lower City or Wigford. The king’s enclosure, then, may have been situated there. Nevertheless, the destruction of 166 houses in the construction of the castle, as recorded by Domesday Book, could suggest less regard for context. Necessity might, it seems, override property rights. We must, however, take care not to jump to conclusions here. It is of considerable interest that in Canterbury the king compensated those who lost properties in the construction of the castle there. Whether this was the site now know as Dane John [slide 13] or the later Norman castle [slide 14] is a matter of dispute. The point remains that William the Conqueror did not always run roughshod over local susceptibilities in the construction of urban castles. Pre-existing rights may still have had weight even when necessity demanded change. In this light, a passage in the Domesday account of Lincoln leaps out with the possibility of explanation [slide 15]. Kolsveinn is said to have built 36 houses and 2 churches on wasteland outside the city given to him by the king. The site was in fact the suburb of Butwerk. Do we see here compensation for land lost in the Bail?

            Context was evidently a major consideration in the construction of royal castles in towns. So it apparently was with the siting of baronial castles, that is castles built by tenants-in-chief. We probably have as many as fourteen in Lincolnshire [slide 16]. Table 1 indicates their various characteristics. The chronology of their construction is vague. Castle Bytham may already have been in existence in 1086 [slide 17]. It was probably built by Drogo de Beuvriere as an estate centre for his Lincolnshire lands soon after he was granted them. Others were certainly early twelfth century. Sleaford was built by Bishop Alexander the Magnificent in about 1130 [slide 18a]. It may have looked something like this [slide 18b]. Bourne was built on the foundation of the barony of Bourne by Baldwin fitzGilbert of Clare a few years later [slide 19]. The precise origins of the remaining castles is unknown. Nevertheless, [slide 20a] the prevalence of motte and bailey types perhaps suggests that they came into being within fifty years or so of the Domesday inquest. What stands out about their sites, however, is not primarily their military significance but their antecedents [slide 20b]. Of the eleven definite baronial castles and the three probable, no less than nine were on the site of or close to manors held with sake and soke in 1066. We might argue about the exceptions too. Welbourn, for example, was probably a successor to the earlier site at Stainby.

 

Table 1: Baronial castles

 

Castle

Type

Lord 1066

Lord 1086

Sake and soke

Barrow

motte

Earl Morcar

Drew de  Beuvriere

Bolingbroke

enclosure

Stori

Ivo Taillebois

Bourne

motte

Earl Morcar

Oger the Breton

Bytham, Castle

motte

Earl Morcar

Drew de  Beuvriere

Carlton, Castle

motte

Godric

Ansgot of Burwell

 

Folkingham

motte

Ulf Fenisc

Gilbert de Ghent

Frampton

?

Adestan

Walter de Aincurt

Gainsborough

enclosure

?

?

 

Owston

motte

Guerde

Geoffrey de la Guerche

 

Redbourne

enclosure

Agemund

Jocelin son of Lambert

Sleaford

enclosure

Bardi

Bishop of Lincoln

Stainby

motte

Siward

Alfred of Lincoln

?

Tattershall

enclosure

Godwin

Eudo son of Spirewic

Welbourn

enclosure

Godwin

Robert Malet

 

 

            This pattern strongly suggests that the sites of major castles were chosen as much with an eye for existing centres of power as for strategic considerations. It was important to appropriate such sites in order to harness the authority that went with them and thereby legitimate the new lord. It is the same imperative that prompted some newcomers to seek the hand of native heiresses. Geoffrey de la Guerche is a notable local example. He acquired much of his lands through marriage to Aelfgifu, the daughter of his antecessor Leofwine. Nevertheless, it was also important to demonstrate that power had changed hands. Raised within an existing centre of power, the motte was a potent symbol of conquest. It was a message that was hard to miss.

            With one possible exception, the remaining castles are broadly honourial [slide 21], that is they were  built by the principal tenants of the barons (Table 2). Many are extremely obscure, meriting only a single reference in the medieval period and are often without physical trace on the ground today. The chronology of construction is thus vague. Swineshead [slide 22] was almost certainly in existence by the 1130s when Robert de Gresley founded Swineshead abbey. The Goltho motte and bailey appears to dates from much the same time, the excavator’s date of c.1080 being unsustainable. Caistor, Grimsby, Newhouse, and Partney were short-lived structures thrown up in the crises of the Anarchy and the reign of John. Moulton is first mentioned in 1216 [slide 23] and Somerton is apparently no earlier than the mid thirteenth century. If true to type, the remainder will be later in the twelfth century or later rather than earlier.


Table 2: Honourial castles

 

Castle

Type

Lord 1066

lord 1086

Sake and soke

Barton

 

 

 

 

Benniworth

 

 

 

 

Caistor

 

 

 

 

Goltho

motte

Lambecarle

Earl of Chester

 

Grimsby

 

 

 

 

Heydour

enclosure

soke

soke

 

Kingerby

enclosure

 

 

 

Moulton

enclosure

soke

soke

 

Newhouse

 

 

 

 

Partney

 

 

 

 

Somerton

enclosure

Aldene

Alfred of Lincoln

 

Swineshead

motte

soke?

soke?

 

Thorngate

 

 

 

 

Wrangle

motte

soke

soke

 

 

            In contrast to the baronial castles [slide 24], there is no obvious correlation with pre-Conquest liberties and as such the class represents a second stage in the Norman settlement. The business of the Domesday inquest was brought to a conclusion with the swearing of an oath of fealty by ‘all those who held land in England’ at Salisbury in August 1086. The oath not only confirmed the barons in their lands but also the men who held from them in theirs. From the early twelfth century onwards the honourial barony, as the principal tenants were known, enjoyed hereditary right and sought to mark their status in an appropriate way. The new lord of Swineshead was typical. He built his own castle in imitation of his lord and founded a religious house as a family mausoleum. His peers did likewise in the course of the twelfth century as resources allowed.

            A fortification, a residence, an estate centre, a symbol of lordship: pre-Conquest burhs and post-Conquest castles alike were all of these things. It has been claimed that what does distinguished the castle from what went before was the aggregation of public jurisdiction to it as it had on the Continent. But as a rule this was simply not the case. Castles assumed royal rights in the Welsh Marches, the northern borders, and, after a fashion, in the Rapes of Sussex. But they were not typical. Elsewhere castles generally enjoyed no extraordinary privileges that took them and their lands outside the shrieval system. As you can readily see from the map of Lincolnshire wapentakes [slide 25], sake and soke did not confer private liberties. There is not one in Lincolnshire. At best the lord so privileged was entitled to his own view of frankpledge, that is he received the profits of policing within his land while remaining under the supervision of the sheriff, the king’s representative in the shire. Castles, in Lincolnshire as elsewhere, were subject to the jurisdiction of hundred and shire.

            What can we conclude from all this? What I am not saying is that there was no difference at all between aristocratic Anglo-Saxon residences and post-Conquest castles. New circumstances required new solutions. The dispossession of the Old English aristocracy and its replacement by foreigners acutely raised questions of legitimacy. New lords had to assert their authority and ensure that it was seen to be asserted. The castles with its motte and then keep was a very visible symbol of that authority. But this was no revolution. Anglo-Saxon lords faced similar problems and they reached essentially similar solutions. The construction of the tower of St Peter’s, Barton-on-Humber [slide 26], in the early eleventh century marked a new lordship every much as a motte might have after the Conquest. 1166 was very different from 1066, but so was 966 from 1066. In other words what we are seeing is an evolution of forms in both tenure and defences. We have to resist the temptation to hang all changes on recorded historical events. Societies are always undergoing mutation, but radical changes do not usually happen in a vacuum. It is now known that the number of foreign landholders mentioned in Domesday Book is no more than 2500 or so. There must, of course, have been more settlers, but we are still talking about a minute proportion of the population of England in 1086. It is inevitable that they had to work with the society that they found. If we shift our attention away from the nebulous concept of feudalism to lordship, then we can really begin to appreciate the developments that made medieval Lincolnshire and medieval England [slide 27].

 

©David Roffe 2013