Posted by Sara M. Butler, 8 May 2026.

Medieval England had no word that was equivalent to the modern term rape. Instead, lawmakers and the judiciary used the term raptus, which is often translated as “rape” but actually means “seizure.” In a blogpost from August of 2024, I wrote about the difficulties with raptus, how it is an umbrella term that includes a wide variety of situations, from sexual assault to abduction to consensual elopement. Because of the term’s broad scope, as one can imagine, scholars intent to trace a history of rape and calculate rates of conviction have not had an easy time, in part because they have rarely all been on the same page.

In his 1978 publication, J.B. Post did acknowledge the “flexible meaning of rapio or raptus,” and pointed out that the medieval statutes essentially “lumped all variations [rape, abduction, and elopement] together.”[1] But this part of his work seems to have been generally overlooked by other scholars. Writing soon after, Barbara Hanawalt (1979) explained that raptus was invariably about sex. She wrote that “rape was loosely defined as violent sexual assault on a woman.” Even when legislators used the term in the sense of abduction, it was “with the intention to sexually assault.”[2] Ruth Kittel’s 1982 study avoided defining the term altogether: boldly, she used the English word “rape” and gave no reason to suggest that it might have been defined any differently than it is today.[3] John Carter (1985), who wrote an entire book on the subject of rape in medieval England, also failed to acknowledge that terminology can change over time; he declared that the medieval world defined “rape” as “illegal, forced intercourse with any woman.”[4]

Hanawalt, Kittel, and Carter were all caught up in the era’s craze for statistical analysis and because of that it is to these studies that scholars usually turn when they speak of the prevalence of the crime or its low conviction rate.  And yet, the failure to acknowledge that raptus might not always mean rape in the modern sense makes those statistics utterly problematic. 

It is striking that all of these works were being published at the same time that Sue Sheridan Walker was writing about a specific form of raptus: ravishment of ward, in which underage heirs and heiresses were kidnapped from their guardians, often in the hopes of profiting by arranging their marriages.[5] The two research strands (rape and ravishment of ward) did not intersect but co-existed, each defining and approaching raptus in entirely different ways. In this respect, Caroline Dunn’s 2013 Stolen Women in Medieval England: Rape, Abduction and Adultery, 1100-1500 (Cambridge) was critical because she brought these various works into the same conversation.

If historians have had this much trouble figuring out when raptus meant rape in the modern sense, how did medieval jurors manage to make themselves understood when composing an indictment? Dunn tells us that raptus was used in conjunction with clarifying vocabulary—what she has referred to as “lexical doublets”—to highlight the nature of the crime. Plea rolls signal sexual assault with the phrase rapuit et concubuit eam (… and lay with her), while they describe ravishment (abduction) with rapuit et abduxit (… and abducted). In this way, jurors left nothing up to chance.

In this blogpost, we will examine all the raptus cases (14 in total) that came before the Cumberland eyre of 1292 (held at The National Archives, document class JUST 1/135). This will give us an opportunity to see how raptus was dealt with in one roll, from one eyre, in one county, with one scribe.

Because of this approach, we might expect some uniformity; after all, the plea rolls almost always describe homicides the same way: felonice interfecit (A feloniously killed B). Instead, what we discover is a wide variety of approaches. Sometimes, the plea rolls give us absolutely no indication of what happened. Other times, they employ a wide variety of language to clarify the nature of the crime and how serious jurors believed it to be. As a whole, they highlight just how fuzzy a category raptus actually was and why counting cases of “rape” is no easy feat.

A Guide to the Cases

Membrane (JUST 1/135)		Plaintiff	Defendant	Nature of Accusation	Outcome for raptus
m. 3d	Joan daughter of Adam de Sandes		Stephen Spanye of Kirklinton	indictment	acquittal
m. 3d	Juliana of Burtholme		David de Kingeschales	appeal	acquittal
m. 3d	Agnes daughter of Matthew de Torcrossok		Thomas son of Gilbert de Northmor	appeal	acquittal
m. 10d	Christina servant of Robert Harding		Alan son of Nicholas of Wampool	indictment	conviction
m. 12	Ellen daughter of William del Grene		Ralph son of John of Threapland (+ 4 male accomplices)	appeal	conviction
m. 12d	Eve daughter of Roger de la Chapele		John son of Thomas of Branthwaite (+ 7 male accomplices)	indictment	conviction
m. 13	Juliana daughter of Hugh Calt of Hutton-in-the-Forest		Robert Craftan	appeal	conviction
m. 13d	Juliana Locard		Henry of Etterby (+ 3 male accomplices)	indictment	acquittal
m. 13d	Emma daughter of John of Moresby		Walter son of David of Carleton (+ 4 male accomplices)	indictment	conviction
m. 14d	Christina daughter of Simon the Cleric of Hayton		Alan son of Nicholas of Wampool	appeal	(both died)
m. 15d	Emma daughter of Richard the Reeve of Stainton		William son of Henry of Stainton	indictment	acquittal
m. 16d	Alice daughter of Thomas de Heved of Sebergham		John son of Robert of Caldbeck	appeal	conviction
m. 16d	Agnes daughter of Robert Faber of Wigton		Thomas le Bercher of Wigton	appeal	acquittal (concord)
m. 23	Joan daughter of Geoffrey le Harpur		Thomas son of Alexander of Hallthwaites	appeal	acquittal (concord)

Clarifying the Nature of the Crime

Admittedly, the nature of the crime is not always clear in the plea rolls: this is true in six of the fourteen cases. Sometimes, the lack of effort is justified by the circumstances. Christina daughter of Simon the Cleric of Hayton appealed Alan son of Nicholas of Wampool of raptus; but by the time the case came before the eyre, both plaintiff and defendant had died. Details about the alleged crime could have been discovered by referencing the original appeal in the county court roll: but what was the point?

Cases ending in concord suffer a similar fate. Joan daughter of Geoffrey le Harpur appealed Thomas son of Alexander of Hallthwaites of raptus and robbery: but jurors chose to acquit because appellor and appellee entered into a concord. The same statement appears also in the case of Thomas le Bercher of Wigton, appealed by Agnes daughter of Robert Faber of Wigton of rape and theft of a brooch.

At times, clarification is absent even though there must have been some sort of courtroom discussion. When Ellen daughter of William del Grene accused Ralph son of John of Threapland, with four male accomplices, of raptus and stealing cloth worth 20 shillings, jurors opted for a mixed verdict: they acquitted Ralph and three of his accomplices of theft but convicted the same men of raptus. Justices sentenced them to two years in prison and fines of varying amounts. Jurors could not have reached that conclusion without some sort of evidence or discussion of fact. Trial reports for charges against Robert Craftan (convicted) and Thomas son of Gilbert de Northmor (acquitted) leave the same impression.

Cases like these are maddening—as historians, always ready to categorize and count, we want to know whether these were in fact sexual assaults. We might even be inclined to just assume that they were—but we simply cannot know what happened without more details. What if Ralph and his men had abducted Ellen in order to steal the cloth worth 20 shillings?

Given the nebulousness of these six accounts, it is hard to understand why others are so precise. The indictment of William son of Henry of Stainton was unequivocally one of sexual assault. The inclusion of the phrase “he lay with her against her will” (concubuit cum ea contra voluntatem suam) makes it clear that we can translate vi rapuit as William “sexually assaulted with force” Emma daughter of Richard the Reeve of Stainton. Here, the appellor deliberately framed the assault to meet the expectations spelled out in the Statute of Westminster I (1275), which stipulated that it be carried out “by force” (a force) and “against her will”(maugre seon).[6]

The indictment of Alan son of Nicholas of Wampool includes even more detail. Alan met Christina servant of Robert Harding in the fields of Aikton and there he lay with her by force (vi concubuit cum ea), stole her virginity (ab abstulit ab ea virginitatem suam) and drew blood from her (fecit eam sanguinolenta) and all of this was done in breach of the king’s peace (contra pacem, etc.). Christina did not lodge an appeal within forty days as she was required to do by statute (Westminster I), but jurors proceeded to find Alan guilty anyways: two years’ prison and a fine of half a mark.  

Only one of the fourteen is without a doubt a case of abduction. John son of Thomas of Branthwaite and seven other men came to the home of Roger de la Chapele in Ireby where they took and abducted (ceperunt et aduxerunt) his daughter Eve against her will and in breach of the peace (contra voluntatem suam et contra pacem). The defendants kept Eve incarcerated (detinerunt) for six weeks before her mother (Christina) and brother (Thomas) raised the hue and cry and demanded that Eve be freed. In the strife that ensued, Thomas loosed an arrow that struck and killed Henry Reysera, one of the kidnappers, leading to his flight and outlawry. Eve failed to pursue her appeal at the eyre; accordingly, justices ordered her arrest and her pledges were held in mercy (meaning, they had to pay the sum of money they had promised to guarantee her appearance in court). As for the defendants, jurors found them all guilty: two years in prisons and fines at the king’s pleasure (ranging between 6s. 8d. and 40 shillings).

Just how Serious a Crime was Raptus?

In the 6 of the 14 cases that resulted in conviction, raptus was treated as a trespass. The nature of the sentencing makes this clear: the Statute of Westminster I (1275) mandated two years’ imprisonment and payment of a fine.

But in one case, the appellor framed the crime as a felony (thus punishable by death). In her appeal, Juliana of Burtholme tells us that she was in the village of Triermain when David de Kingeschales feloniously and in premeditated assault (felonice et in assultu premeditato) took her and threw her to the ground (cepit eam et prostravit ad terram) and by force he lay with her (vi cum ea concubuit) and stole her virginity (abstulit ab ea virginitatem suam) and drew blood from her (eam fecit sanguinolenter). These linguistic choices were deliberate. Not only does she describe it as a felony (felonice), but the insertion of premeditation indicated it was deserving of the death penalty.

David’s defense was plainly coached by a lawyer. After a total denial of the allegations, he raised his first exception: did he even need to respond to Juliana’s appeal because she has a husband (named Walter)?  Exactly why that mattered is not obvious: was the point to undermine the allegation that she had been a virgin before the assault, or because her husband did not appear jointly with her to present the case (which was not required by law)?

Next, David complained that her appeal had failed to mention that the sexual act was not completed: quod fregit tentiginem (“which broke the erection”). Given the hazy descriptions of raptus in the statutes, it should not be a surprise that they include no discussion of whether a valid sexual assault required penetration.

While the exceptions did not persuade justices to quash the suit, it may have persuaded jurors that Juliana’s appeal was insufficient: they acquitted David and ordered Juliana to prison for a false appeal.

Paying Attention to Who Made the Complaint

With raptus, we need to ask whether it was brought by appeal (private prosecution) or indictment (public prosecution). An appeal had to be brought by the victim: thus, we can assume that the complaint was in fact coming from her. With an indictment, precisely who the complainant was is shrouded in mystery. This difference in process should impact how we understand the charges.

Case in point: the indictment of Henry of Etterby and his three male accomplices accuses them of coming to Scotby to abduct Juliana Locard. They led her to the home of Thomas of Beckces in Gilsland, and there, Henry lay with her by force (vi concubuit cum ipsa) against her will (contra voluntatem suam) and stole her virginity (abstulit ab ea virginitatem suam). All of this sounds very much like raptus as both sexual assault and abduction. But at the trial, jurors found Henry and his accomplices not guilty because Juliana went with them of her own will (sponte ivit cum eis). Was this really what we would call rape? Or, did Juliana elope with her boyfriend and her angry parents reported it to presentment jurors as a sexual assault?

The indictment of Stephen Spanye of Kirklinton presents an even clearer window onto raptus as elopement. Jurors report that there was an agreement to contract a marriage between Stephen Spanye of Kirklinton and Joan daughter of Adam de Sandes. The bans had been published, words of faith exchanged, but all without the consent and will of Joan’s family and friends (sine assensu et voluntatem parentem et amicorum), who initially supported the contract, but abandoned the negotiations. Because of this, Stephen had Joan cited before the ordinary and summoned to the bishop’s court at Carlisle. The day of her appearance, Stephen, with three male accomplices, met Joan en route to court at the vill of Kirkandrews-on-Eden: they took her and abducted her (ipsam ceperunt et abduxerunt) to Stephen’s home in Kirklinton against her will and kept her there (ipsam ibi detineret) for two days, at which point Joan’s mother came to get her. The jurors conclude by reporting that Stephen later took Joan as his wife; therefore, he is acquitted.

Consent is at the heart of both Statutes of Westminster I (1275) and II (1285): it is only raptus if it is against the woman’s will. What cases like this alert us to is the fact that some Englishmen and women did not agree with the lawmakers. They defined raptus in an even more expansive way that included instances where consent of the woman’s family and friends was absent.

This brings us to our final case and one of the most difficult to make sense of. Walter son of David of Carleton and four male accomplices were indicted for taking Emma daughter of John of Moresby by force, abducting her to David’s home, imprisoning her there, where Walter lay with her by force (vi concubuit cum ipsa). At the trial, jurors declared Walter guilty; but they went on to say that Emma consented after the fact (ipsa ex post facto consensit) and Walter married her (ipsam desponsavit), however this (presumably the marriage) was against her will, therefore he is in custody. And afterwards, the said Walter comes and because he cannot deny this (non potest hoc dedicere) he remains in custody. Afterwards he pays a fine of half a mark and produces pledges.

The jurors’ statement hews close to the Statute of Westminster II (1285) which stipulates that raptus is still raptus “although she consent after” (tut seit ke ele se assente apres). But: what exactly does it mean that “she consented after”? Perhaps more disconcerting still, even if the marriage was coerced, there was nothing the king’s justices could do about it. The two would remain married unless the church courts ruled otherwise (and there is no indication in the trial report that Emma had even sued a case before the bishop). Walter’s lenient punishment is baffling. Did they refrain from sending him to prison for two years because they didn’t want to deprive Emma of a breadwinner? Did they see the marriage as having a “rocky start,” but assumed she’d get over it? This is one of those cases that raises more questions than it answers.

Conclusion

Even with such a small sample size, the Cumberland eyre of 1292 presents us with a full array of variants of raptus. Six are indeterminable. Of the other eight, four are sexual assaults, one is an abduction, two are elopements, and I don’t even know what to do with the last one. What this assortment of cases demonstrates is that those scholars in the 1970s and 80s who saw all raptus cases as rape and produced statistics accordingly have led us astray. While we might want to compare medieval and modern rape statistics, the medieval documentation makes that a very difficult task.

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Endnotes

[1] J.B. Post, “Ravishment of Women and the Statutes of Westminster,” in Legal Records and the Historian, ed. J.H. Baker (London, 1978), 158.

[2] Barbara A. Hanawalt, Crime and Conflict in English Communities, 1300-1348 (Cambridge, MA, 1979), 104.

[3] Ruth Kittel, “Rape in Thirteenth-Century England: A Study of the Common-Law Courts,” in Women and the Law: A Social Historical Perspective. Vol. II: Property, Family and the Legal Profession, ed. D. Kelly Weisberg (Cambridge, MA, 1982), 101-115.

[4] John Marshall Carter, Rape in Medieval England: An Historical and Sociological Study (Lanham, 1985), 37.

[5] Sue Sheridan Walker, “Widow and Ward: The Feudal Law of Child Custody in Medieval England,” Feminist Studies 3, 3/4 (1976): 104-116; “Free Consent and Marriage of Feudal Wards in Medieval England,” Journal of Medieval History 8 (1982): 132-134; “Punishing Convicted Ravishers: Statutory Strictures and Actual Practice in Thirteenth and Fourteenth-Century England,” Journal of Medieval History 13 (1987): 237-250.

[6] 3 Edw. I: Stat. Westm. prim., c. xiii (1275); Statutes of the Realm, vol. 1, p. 29.