Posted by Sara M. Butler, 29 November 2023.

When Julian of Durham (Jollanus de Dureme)[1] died in 1262, sometime before his postmortem inquisition held 11 Dec. of that year, he likely had no idea what kind of mess he was leaving behind for his wife, Cecily, and his young heir, also named Julian, not yet five years of age.[2] While custody disputes today can sometimes turn ugly, they cannot match the crooked, almost mafioso-like, behavior that played out in medieval disputes, especially when the heir in question was the son of a tenant-in-chief, that is, an individual who held lands directly from the crown.

The person fortunate enough to be appointed young Julian’s guardian would not only manage substantial lands in London and in the county of Essex,[3] but would also have the opportunity to profit from arranging the young ward’s marriage. Julian would undoubtedly have been described as a “catch” by any standard. His family boasted a distinguished history with links both to the crown and to London’s elite. His grandfather, Thomas of Durham, was in service to Joan of England (1210-38), Queen of Scots, wife of Alexander II, and sister to King Henry III of England. When she died, Thomas was charged with the disposal of her goods at Boston Fair and the management of her estate at Driffield in Yorkshire.[4] In 1240, Henry’s gratitude to Thomas for such loyal service to his sister was expressed through the gift of all the lands of the count of St. Pol in Great Dunmow at South Hall (later called Clopton Hall), for the cost of a pair of gilt spurs (worth 6 pence) annually to be paid at Michaelmas.[5] This land was in turn granted to Julian of Durham upon Thomas’s death sometime in 1255-1256.[6]

The Durham family was not only prominent in the north of England, but also in London where Thomas was a citizen of some prominence. He was one of London’s two sheriffs in both 1227-1229 and 1241-1242; he was also alderman of Cripplegate ward as early as 1237-1238.[7] Little is known of the civic activities of his heir, Julian, but his daughter, Isabel of Durham, went on to marry Henry Frowicke, also a sheriff of London and alderman of Langbourne ward. His nephew, William of Durham, was a sheriff of London (1252-53 and 1268-69) and alderman of Bread Street ward.[8] Young Julian would eventually outshine them all, acting as assessor and collector for the county of Essex in 1294; knight of the shire at the parliament held in May of 1298 and again in Oct. of 1302; and also a justice of oyer and terminer for the county of Essex in 1300.[9]

All this by way of saying that of course there was going to be some disagreement over who was going to be granted guardianship of young Julian after his father passed away. His mother Cecily was the first in line. On 16 Jan. 1263, she met with the king’s escheator, tasked with inventorying her former husband’s lands and tenements in Essex. During their conversation, Cecily asserted her rights, explaining that because Julian had held his land from the king in socage, his wardship belonged to her. Socage is best defined as a tenure of land by agricultural service with a fixed money rent and absent any expectation of military service. Admittedly, her rationalization does not align with the surviving record. Both Thomas and Julian were described multiple times as “tenants-in-chief,” a form of feudal land tenure that required providing soldiers for the king’s armies – thus, assuredly, they did NOT hold that land by socage. However, for Cecily, this argument provided her with the best strategy for retaining her son’s wardship: guardianship in socage fell to the next of kin who could not inherit from the infant.[10] Needing time to investigate the matter more thoroughly so that he might be “fully certified about this,” the king granted Cecily the right to till, plow, and sow the lands and tenements that Julian held “provided that she might answer the king for the issues of the same at the Exchequer if it will be necessary.”[11]

While Cecily believed that Julian belonged at home with her, she was not the only one keen to control his person and estate. A little more than a year later, on 18 Feb. 1264, young Julian was abducted from the home where he lived with his mother and his new stepfather, James de Montibus.[12] The complaint asserts that Walter Frowicke and Nicholas of Winchester (de Winton) came “with force and arms” to the manor of South Hall in Great Dunmow, and “seized and abducted” her son Julian, taking also a multitude of luxury goods: a gold brooch, a silk girdle, eighteen silver spoons, a horse, six gold rings, and 40 shillings in cash.[13] The political turmoil of the era meant that the kidnapping went unprosecuted for well over a decade. In 1264, England was embroiled in the Second Barons’ War and nearby London had become the epicenter, with the city’s administration siding with the barons.

Cecily’s former sister-in-law, Isabel of Durham, now married to Henry Frowicke, was clearly the mastermind behind this abduction. Walter Frowicke was her husband’s nephew. The elite backgrounds of the kidnappers hints that these were not your usual suspects, nor was this a typical abduction. Walter Frowicke was not only the nephew of a sheriff and alderman, he was a goldsmith and grandson of Ralph Frowicke who had been warden of the mint.[14] Nicholas of Winchester also came from a family prominent in London’s civic administration; he, too, was to become sheriff of London in 1274, alderman of Langbourne in 1275, and the warden of London bridge in 1279-80.[15] The participation of men from London’s leading families points to the high stakes involved in the guardianship of an heir with such impressive holdings.

Did Cecily get her son back? Unfortunately, the records don’t make it clear one way or the other, but in March of 1266, the king must have decided that Cecily did not in fact hold rights to guardianship because he granted her former husband’s lands, tenements, and the wardship and marriage of his son to John Walerand, king’s clerk and rector of Clent in Worcestershire. Walerand was one of Henry’s stalwart supporters during the baronial wars. He had also been tasked with guiding the citizens of London back to loyalty in the wake of Simon de Montfort’s death as one of the crown-appointed wardens of London in 1265. The grant was to compensate for “his losses in the king’s service in the time of the late disturbance in the realm.”[16]  

While John Walerand surely hoped to profit from young Julian’s estate, he did not plan to raise the child himself. This responsibility he farmed out to a woman known as Joan, who was to become the wife of William of Hadestok, alderman of Tower ward. John Walerand had been appointed constable of the Tower of London in November of 1265; thus, it seems likely that he had forged a close relationship with the local alderman and his circle.[17] This is where young Julian was living on 26 July 1269, when James de Montibus, Cecily’s new husband, “broke down the door and entered,” committing outrages against Joan, including breaking her finger. William’s complaint, prosecuted at the 1276 eyre, is the source of this information.

In his defense, James denied “force and injury.” He acknowledged that he had indeed gone to her home, but that he did so in the company of Stephen of Edworth (de Edesworth), the new constable of the Tower of London, and bearing the king’s writ, which purportedly ordered the delivery of young Julian into James’ custody.[18] It is not at all clear what caused the king to change his mind. In 1268, Walerand had left London for Scotland on the king’s business.[19] Perhaps he had decided that young Julian could live with his mother during his absence? Regardless of the circumstances, the jurors’ response indicates just how volatile the situation had become. They describe how James entered the house “with many others,” “with force and arms,” and accompanied by “a king’s bailiff.” He closed the door, and “tore [Joan’s] dress down to the navel, threw her to the ground and raped her, breaking her finger.” It was the jurors’ judgment that James should be sent to prison until he had paid William and Joan damages of 100 shillings.[20]

Did James rape her in order to send a message to his stepson’s captors? Or did he hope to secure her silence and inaction through trauma and humiliation? Perhaps he merely took advantage of an opportunity at a time when he believed he would not be held responsible for his actions. (Given that he was not prosecuted for this trespass until the eyre of 1276, he would have had good reason to believe he could get away with it.)

Presumably, at this point young Julian returned to live at home with his mother. Yet, this is still not the end of the story.

Now it was Cecily’s former brother-in-law’s turn to wreak havoc. At the eyre of 1276, Cecily appeared in response to an appeal by Bartholomew of Durham, who had accused Cecily of homicide, claiming that Julian’s death in 1263 came about because she gave him “a poisoned drink.” Bartholomew did not appear in court that day to prosecute his appeal – why he did not appear is a mystery. Did he actually believe that she had killed his brother? Or, had he accused her in hopes of gaining custody of young Julian? Those who did not prosecute their appeals were typically paid off by the defendant with the goal of settling out of court; or, they had abandoned their appeals because they knew the evidence was insufficient. Either way, the king’s courts regularly interpreted an appellor’s failure to pursue his appeal as a sign of a malicious accusation. The record notes that Bartholomew was to be arrested and his pledges prosecuted.

Bartholomew’s non-appearance did not mean that they were willing to drop the case against Cecily. She was required to purge her reputation thirty-six handed, that is, “with eighteen men from one side of the [River] Walebrok [Walbrook] and eighteen from the other,” all pledges to be chosen not by Cecily, but by the mayor and aldermen of the city. On the appointed day, Cecily appeared before them and waged her law, swearing that “she never gave any poisonous drink” to her husband Julian, “or did anything by which he was nearer to death and further from life, so help her God and these holy things.” Meeting with the pledges in groups of six, she repeated this oath six times in total – presumably a suitably tearful performance meant to persuade these men of good standing of her sincerity. And it worked. The court declared therefore that she would “be quit of the death in perpetuity.”[21]

Presumably, in the end, Cecily gained custody of her child – while there does not seem to be any formal acknowledgment of this in the records, nor is there any order requiring Cecily and James to return young Julian to John Walerand. Nor are Julian and John linked together in any future records. What can we learn from this story? While we may think that elite men and women in the Middle Ages had it easy, the experience of Cecily and young Julian reveals otherwise. As the wife of a tenant-in-chief, she had no recognized right to raise her son after her husband’s death. More important still, in all of this, young Julian became little more than a coveted, tangible symbol of the property that he represented.

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Featured Images:

“Snowball fight.” In the style of Master Charles V (Flemish, ca. 1500-1520). Courtesy of the Walters Art Museum.

“Parish Fraternities of London c.1400,” from George Unwin, The Gilds and Companies of London (London: Methuen & Co., 1908), 120.

“John Norman, Lord Mayor (1253-54), dressed in his aldermannic robes.” Wikipedia. Public Domain.

Notes:

[1] “Durham” is spelled in a wide variety of ways in the documents: Dureme, Duresme, Durmers, Donholm, Dunholm, Dunholme, and Donelm.

[2] J.E.E.S. Sharp, ed., Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem (hereafter, CIPM), vol. 1, Hen. III (London: Eyre and Spottiswode, 1904), 179.

[3] He held the manor of South Hall in Great Dunmow in care of the Honor of the Earl of St. Pol, which incorporated “a close, 180 acres of arable, 14 acres of meadow, 15 of pasture, and 70s yearly rent.” In addition, he held “the fee of Ralph de Burners, half a virgate; of the fee of John de Apeldersfeld, half a virgate; two acres and half of the fee of Walter Fitz-Robert.” He also held “80 acres of land of John de Gisors; and of Warine Martel, 14 acres.” J.W. Savill, The History of Dunmow, Comprising Complete Histories of the Manors (Dunmow: J.W. Savill, 1865), 19-20. See also, Sharp and Stamp, CIPM, vol. 5, Edw II (London, 1908), 275-281, no. 503.

[4] Calendar of the Patent Rolls (hereafter CPR), vol. 3, Hen. III (1232-47), 235. See also, Gwyn A. Williams, Medieval London: From Commune to Capital (London: the Athlone Press, 1963), 70.

[5] Calendar of the Charter Rolls preserved in the Public Record Office (hereafter, C of Charter R), vol. 1, Hen. III (1226-57), 250.

[6] The National Archives (hereafter, TNA), C[hancery] 60/53, m. 22; see David Carpenter, et al., “Henry III Fine Rolls Project,” King’s College London, https://finerollshenry3.org.uk/content/calendar/roll_053.html#it245_018 (accessed 24 Nov. 2023).

[7] John McEwan, “The Aldermen of London c. 1200-80: Alfred Beaven Revisited,” Transactions of the London & Middlesex Archaeological Society, second series, vol. 62 (2011), 192; Alfred P. Beaven, The Aldermen of the City of London Temp. Henry III-1912, 2 vols(London: Corporation of the City of London, 1908-12), vol. 1, 236 and 367.

[8] Walter Goodwin Davis, The Ancestry of Mary Isaac, c. 1549-1613 (Maine, Portland, 1955), 172-208.

[9] Francis Palgrave, Parliamentary Writs and Writs of Military Summons together with the Records and Muniments relating to the Suit and Service due and performed to the King’s High Court of Parliament and the Councils of the Realm, 2 vols (London: G. Eyre and A. Strahan, 1827), vol. 1, 577.

[10] Fred Rollin White, “Guardianship in Socage,” (PhD Thesis, Cornell Law School, 1895),1.

[11] TNA C 60/61, 48 Henry III (1263), m. 6; Carpenter, “Henry III Fine Rolls Project,” https://finerollshenry3.org.uk/content/calendar/roll_061.html#it064_005 (accessed 24 Nov. 2023).

[12] The record does not describe them as married; yet, it is hard to understand why they would appear together in the record otherwise. In addition, there are several records in which James appears with his wife Cecily – it seems only logical that this is the same Cecily widow of Julian of Durham. See for example a 1267 dispute between Thomas of Kingsbury (de Kyngesbir) and his wife Sarah, on the one hand, and James de Montibus and his wife Cecily, on the other, over messuages in the parish of St. Gregory, opposite the brewhouse of St. Paul’s, London. W.J. Hardy and W. Page, eds., A Calendar to the Feet of Fines for London and Middlesex, vol. 1: Richard I-Richard III (London: Hardy and Page, 1892), 44, no. 447.

[13] Martin Weinbaum, ed., The London Eyre of 1276 (London: London Record Society, 1976), 98-118, nos. 511 and 512.

[14] R.R. Sharpe, ed., Calendar of Wills Proved and Enrolled in the Court of Husting, London: Part I, 1258-1358 (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1889), 702-4; Davis, The Ancestry of Mary Isaac, 172-208.

[15] Beaven, Aldermen of the City of London, 166, 370, and 375. See also London Metropolitan Archives, Bridge Estate accounts, CLA/007/EM/02/F/039.

[16] Calendar of Close Rolls (hereafter, CCR) vol. 13, Hen. III (1264-68), 178-179; CPR, vol. 5, Hen. III (1258-66),  567.

[17] W.L. Rutton, “Constables and Lieutenants of the Tower of London [part 1],” Notes and Queries, series 10, vol. 9, no. 213 (25 Jan. 1908a): 61-63.

[18] Although the record describes the boy as “Bartholomew son and heir of Jollan[us] de Durham,” I suspect this is a scribal error. Young Julian’s uncle was named Bartholomew and he is named in a case just a few records before this. Young Julian was indeed still alive in the year 1269 and he was the only “son and heir of Jollan[us] de Durham.”

[19] CPR, vol. 6, Hen. III (1266-72), 228.

[20] The London Eyre of 1276, 98-118, no. 519.

[21] The London Eyre of 1276, 55-66, no. 209.