A Shropshire Lad (1)

 

Robert Burnell, lord chancellor and Bishop of Bath and Wells, was born at Acton Burnell in Shropshire, six miles SE of Shrewsbury, in about 1240. Otherwise we know little about his early life, except that he was one of four brothers. It is not known who his parents were or his precise date of birth. 

Nothing is known of Burnell's upbringing or education, before his sudden appearance as a royal clerk in the 1250s. The monks of Buildwas Abbey, sometime in the fourteenth century, concocted a pedigree for Burnell tracing his family all the way back to a Robert Burnell who (allegedly) came to England with the Conqueror. 

The pedigree was an invention: "...a tribute devised by obsequious monks to gratify the pride of the Burnells in the days of their prosperity" (Eyton, Antiquities of Shropshire). 

This sort of fabricated genealogy was quite common. For instance the powerful Clanvoe family, descended of the lineage of Hywel ap Meurig, forged a descent from the old lords of Deheubarth. The family was in fact descended from an obscure Welsh tenant of the Mortimers in the Middle March. 

(The pic is of Acton Burnell castle near Shrewsbury)

The battle of Roslin

 

February 1303 witnessed the battle of Roslin, in which the Scots under John Comyn of Badenoch and Simon Fraser defeated an English force led by John Segrave.

In the pantheon of Scottish victories, Roslin seems to rank well below the likes of Stirling Bridge and Bannockburn. This is, perhaps, due to Comyn being generally perceived as a traitor who richly deserved a dagger in the guts, delivered by Robert de Bruce at Dumfries church in 1306. I have argued before that Comyn is much maligned, a victim of Bruce propaganda, but to little avail. Some impressions just stick and there is little point wasting energy on such things. Not my problem, squire. 

Edward I had placed Segrave in command of an expeditionary force, ordered to reconnoitre Scotland before the main English invasion in the autumn. The size of his force reached a peak of 119 men-at-arms and 2067 footsoldiers by January 1303, probably reduced by the time of the battle in February. Segrave was dispatched, specifically, to repel the Scots threatening the English garrison at Roxburgh. 

According to Walter of Guisborough, Segrave divided his men into three divisions or troops, distanced from each by about two leagues. He was then led into an ambush by a certain 'boy', who was really on Comyn's side. A notable feature of these Scottish wars is the frequent use of women and boys as spies. I like to think it was the same boy throughout, cheerfully playing off both sides and making a hatful of cash into the bargain. 

On 24 February the first English troop, about three hundred men under Segrave's personal command, was attacked and scattered. The recorded casualties are light (just five horses), but Segrave himself was captured. Guisborough claims the second troop came up and rescued him, but this cannot be correct: a couple of weeks later, Edward I paid a ransom for Segrave, implying he was in Scottish custody. 

One of the English casualties was Ralph Manton, the king's treasurer, also called Ralf the Cofferer. He was taken prisoner by Simon Fraser, who accused him of embezzling funds when Fraser had been in Edward I's service. After this angry speech - slightly embarrassing, in context - Fraser ordered one of his servants to cut off Ralf's hands and leave him to bleed to death in the forest. 

Roslin was later blown out of proportion by the 15th century Scottish chronicler, Walter Bower, who claimed the English lost upward of 80,000 men. This sort of wild boasting and exaggeration was common: for instance, the English claimed that Wallace lost a hundred thousand men at Falkirk. Such losses would have wiped out the entire adult male population of the British Isles, never mind Scotland.

Nevertheless, Roslin was a significant morale-boosting victory for the Scots at a bleak time. It made no real difference to Edward's plans (although one imagines the royal eyes rolling a little at the news). The battle may, however, have persuaded him that Comyn and his allies were still capable of serious resistance. The terms of the negotiated settlement of Strathord, almost a year later, would imply as much.

Walking free

 

In February 1272 Roger Godberd, the notorious bandit chief, was hunted down and captured by Reynold Grey, High Sheriff of Nottingham. He was held in various prisons for four years and finally stood trial at Newgate in April 1276. 

At his trial, Godberd produced charters of Henry III, which pardoned him of all offences. However, these documents only applied to his first period of outlawry before October 1266, and the Dictum of Kenilworth. They did not cover his second term as an outlaw between 1269-72. Hence, he should have been executed. His lieutenant, Walter Devyas, was beheaded in 1272, and by rights Godberd should have gone the same way. 

Instead, astonishingly, he walked free. Godberd was still alive and kicking in 1287, when he was briefly imprisoned again for poaching in Sherwood Forest. Ironically, one of his fellow poachers was Reynold Grey, the former sheriff. They and several others were bailed by one Henry le Lou. 

There is no reason to suppose that Godberd died anywhere except in his bed, probably in the 1290s. His son, Roger junior, was allowed to inherit the tenancy of Swannington manor, now in the possession of Edmund of Lancaster. The king, Edward I, had an interesting relationship with these outlaws. Back in 1269, before going on crusade, he had arranged a pardon for Godberd's ill-fated lieutenant, Walter Devyas. This proved most unwise, as Devyas immediately resumed a life of violent crime. When he was recaptured, in 1272, there was no mercy. 

Godberd can only have owed his unlikely salvation to the king. At the start of his reign, Edward I wished to settle England as soon as possible, and knew that could not be achieved with a round of bloody executions. One of his first parliaments issued a general pardon to all of Simon de Montfort's surviving followers, which probably explains Godberd's survival.

Taking heads

The other interesting case at Rhuddlan, heard before the king on 14 February 1283, concerned the death of a man in Ireland. This was a certain O'Donald, whose head had been brought to the Exchequer at Dublin by one Thomas Mandeville. 

The custom of head-taking was a commonplace way of dealing with outlaws - 'wolfsheads' - in Ireland and Wales. In Ireland it was a part of the legal system, and often led to squabbles over money. For instance, in 1282 the Earl Marshal complained that the Justice of Ireland had fined him 100 marks for the beheading of Art Mac Murrough. This was against the local custom, since the head had not yet been 'proclaimed' with the consent of the earl or his freemen. 

In the case of 14 February, Edward I ordered that Mandeville should be paid his fee. This was the standard bounty for bringing the heads of outlaws and felons before the local justices. O'Donald's offence is not recorded, sadly. It should be noted that outlaws had no legal rights or protection whatsoever. Anyone could kill them, in any way, without fear of censure. This explains the fate of Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd of Wales, lured to his death in a way that would have otherwise been seen as dishonourable. 

It also explains why Sir William Wallace got no formal trial at Westminster, after his capture in August 1305. Wallace had been outlawed by the Scottish parliament at St Andrews in February, and outlaws were not entitled to a trial. It might be argued that Edward I forced the Scots to condemn Wallace. However, when he threatened to do the same to James the Steward, an important nobleman, the Scottish lords closed ranks and persuaded Edward to change his mind. They did so because the Steward was one of 'them', a member of the elite club. Wallace was not.

Moved by piety

 

On 14 February 1283 Edward I was at Rhuddlan. The war in Wales was still raging, but the king and his advisers made time for other business. 

On this day they dealt with six cases. Edward took a personal interest in the case of Madog de Brompton, a Welshman accused of murdering one Roger Dodesune. The king was shown the verdict of a jury in Shropshire, which found that Madog had killed Roger in self-defence. Edward, 'moved by piety', agreed with the verdict and ordered Madog to be pardoned and restored to his lands, goods and chattels. 

It would be nice to know more about this Madog. Brompton (Brontyn in Welsh) is a hamlet in Shropshire, right on the border: it lies between Church Stoke and Newtown, both in Powys. Perhaps Madog was related to one of the local mixed-'race' families. The Antiquities of Shropshire record that Great Weston/Weston Madoc was held by Robert fitz Madoc in 1224, as a tenant of Thomas Corbet of Caus. After his death Henry III seized the manor, even though Robert had left an heir, Owain. By 1242 the manor was held by one Hywel de Brompton as a serjeant of the king, but after his death it was seized by John Lestrange. Thomas Corbet then managed to reclaim it at law. 

The Chirbury Hundred-Roll records that Hywel de Brompton's heir was later in the custody of Lord Edward (later Edward I) and held his land of the prince worth 100 shillings. This was Roger Fitz Hywel, who held the land of Weston. Unfortunately the editor of the Antiquities could find no further trace of Roger Fitz Hywel or the Brompton line.