Part 10

What followed may be told in the words of the Plumpton MS.:--In the year 1184, while the King (Henry II.) was sojourning at Worcester with his army, with intent to make war with Rhys-ap-Griffin, a certain youth was brought there in fetters, sprung of noble lineage, and whose name was Gilbert de Plumpton, whom Ranulph de Glanville, the King's justiciary, had in odium, and sought to put to death, laying to his charge that he had ravished a certain maiden in the King's gift, the daughter of Roger de Guilevast, and kept her to him as his wife, and that, in the night-time, he broke through six doors in the abode of the girl's father, and took a hunting-horn and a headstall, etc., along with the said maiden. He added, moreover, that all these things he carried off by theft and robbery, and upon the issue he offered to abide the law. But Ranulph de Glanville, wishing to make away with him, because he designed to give the same maiden (whom the said Gilbert had already known after their espousals) to Reiner, Sheriff of Yorkshire, with her father's inheritance, further exhorted those who were to try Gilbert to adjudge him to death; and so it was done, for they sentenced him to be hanged, and whilst he was being led to the gibbet, intelligence was brought of the proceedings in his case to Baldwin, Bishop of the same city of Worcester. The which Bishop, though in great grief for the condemnation of the youth, was, however, exhorted by his attendants to rescue him from death. They said that he could legally do this, because it was a Sunday the same day, and upon it the Feast of Blessed Mary Magdalen. The Bishop (who was a meek and good man) acquiesced in their arguments, and having mounted on horseback, quickly rode after the executioners, who were leading the youth to the gibbet, and had now arrived at the place. Already was the youth, with his hands bound behind his back, and with a green band covering his eyes, and an iron chain round his neck--the executioners being on the point of hoisting the youth up as the Bishop arrived with a multitude of people.

Having alighted from his horse, and running up, he stationed himself by the side of the prisoner, thus exclaiming and saying, "I forbid you, on the part of God and the blessed Mary Magdalen, and under sentence of excommunication, to hang this man on this day; because today is the day of our Lord and the feast of the blessed Mary Magdalen. Wherefore it is not lawful for you to contaminate the day."

The executioners replied, "Who are you, and what madness prompts you that you have the audacity to impede the execution of the King's justice?" But the Bishop, with no less firmness of heart than of speech, rejoins, "Not madness, but the clemency of heavenly pity, urges me; nor do I desire to impede the King's justice, but to warn against an unwary act, lest by the contamination of a solemn day, you and the King incur the wrath of the Eternal God."

After some altercation, divine authority at length prevailed; and at the entreaty of the Bishop, he who was bound was unloosed; nevertheless he was delivered over to the keeper of the King's castle in safe custody, and in the morning to be led again to execution. But the Lord Almighty, who never deserts those who hope in Him, granted longer span of life to the said Gilbert. For when all these matters were reported to King Henry, he sent his messengers in the greatest haste to the castle with orders that the youth should not be hanged.

This story is deemed apochryphal by some authorities as being utterly inconsistent with the mild, beneficent, and just character of the Justiciary. Foss, who refers to it as a dereliction from the path of judicial integrity, says--

"Presuming the story to be true, the Chief Justiciary's merit must have been great indeed to induce the King to pardon so monstrous a perversion of justice," adding, "some doubt, however, cannot but be attached to the relation, not merely from its extravagant ferocity and the impunity of its perpetrators, but from the assertion of the work which bears Glanville's name, who says--'None of the Judges have so hardened a front, or so rash a presumption, as to dare to deviate, however slightly, from the path of justice, or utter a sentence in any measure contrary to the truth.' It is scarcely possible to suppose that a King so just as Henry II. would have overlooked the guilt of the Judge, or have visited the innocence of the accused with imprisonment."

On the other side, Roger de Hoveden relates the story with some circumstantiality, under the date of 1184, who was not only a contemporary, but was a native of Howden, not many miles distant from Plumpton. He adds further, that "The Knight (Gilbert) being rescued from death, was kept in prison by Ranulph de Glanville until the King's death (1189)." In the Annals of the Exchequer also, we find given the expenses of conveying Gilbert de Plumpton from York to Worcester, on this occasion.

What became of Gilbert and Eleanor afterwards is not recorded, or mentioned in the tradition, but we may hope that after his release on the accession of Richard I., they were reunited, and that their oppressor, having died the following year, they were enabled to pass the remainder of their lives in tranquility and happiness.

The Topcliffe Insurrection.

"I wayle, I wepe, I sobbe, I sighe full sore, The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny Of him that is gone, alas! without restore, Of the blode royall descendinge nobelly; Whos lordshepe doutles was slayne lamentably, Thorow tresen ageyn hym compassyd and wrought, Trew to his Prince, in worde, in dede, and thought."

--SKELTON.

The prevailing blemish in the character of King Henry VII. was avarice, which led him, through his rapacious ministers, Empson and Dudley, to oppress the people with extortionate taxation. To save his exchequer he avoided foreign wars, and once only did he cross the sea with that object, in the cause of Anne of Bretagne, whose fief was claimed by the French King; but on arriving at Boulogne, King Charles, appealing to his master-passion, bought him off by means of a large bribe. For the purpose of this war, Parliament, in February, 1489, granted a tax of one-tenth of a penny, for a subsidy of £75,000. This oppressive tax was very unpopular, and especially so in Yorkshire and the north, the people about Thirsk, particularly, being loud in their murmurs. They were goaded on by the rough and excited harangues of one John à Chambre, whom Lord Bacon describes as "a base fellow called John Chambre, a very brute feu, who bore most sway among the vulgar." He had for his fellow leader Sir John Egremont, who, although not quite so boisterous and unpolished as Chambre, was equally resolute and vigorous in his opposition to fiscal extortion; and these two leaders gathered around them a body of rustics and mechanics, who armed themselves with such weapons as they could procure, such as scythes, bill-hooks, and bludgeons. Vowing they would not lay down their arms until the tax was repealed, they went from village to village, and town to town, inveighing against the King's evil counsellors, explaining their designs, and enlisting recruits to their banner.

An account of these turbulent proceedings reached the ears of the King, who sent an order down to the Earl of Northumberland, the Lord-Lieutenant of Yorkshire, to explain the necessity of the tax, to uphold the honour and dignity of the nation. The Earl wrote back to the King a letter of remonstrance, showing that the tax was intolerably oppressive, a burden that they were scarcely able to bear, and praying him to reconsider it, and make some abatement in the demand. To this he received a reply that not a single penny should be abated, and he was enjoined to see that it was exacted to the uttermost farthing.

Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland, was one of the most potent nobles of the north, and had castles at Topcliffe, on the Swale, near Thirsk; at Leckonfield, near Beverley; and at Wressil, near Howden--all maintained with a splendour almost regal, with barons, knights, and esquires as members of his household and retinue. The Castle of Topcliffe, the earliest and chief seat of the Percies, stood with its massive keep, battlemented towers, gateway, walls, and dungeon, upon an elevated mound called Maiden Bower, on the river Swale, near the confluence of the Cod-beck. From its nearness to Thirsk, the focus of the insurrection, the Earl came thither from Leckonfield to execute the command of the King, and he called a folk-môte at Thirsk for that purpose. With his vassals and tenants he was popular, being a kind and considerate master and landlord, and by the people of Yorkshire he was held in high esteem, so that he was under no apprehension, although the people were in arms; and he took no measures for his safety in case of tumult, feeling assured that there was no danger, and that he would be able, by his explanations and expostulations, to appease the angry feelings of the multitude.

On the morning of the day appointed for the meeting, there was a great assemblage of people in Thirsk, and excited crowds coming along all the roads leading thither from Ripon, Boroughbridge, Easingwold, and the neighbouring villages. The people were armed chiefly with bludgeons, and displayed two banners, one inscribed "No taxes; down with Empson and Dudley," the other, "Oh for the days of good King Dickon." Richard III., when residing at Middleham, as Duke of Gloucester, was exceedingly popular with the poor, mingling with them in their amusements, and consorting with them as familiarly as if they were his equals, probably with a politic eye to the future. When he was carrying out his scheme of usurpation, he sent for a contingent of men-at-arms from his Middleham estates, who assembled for review in Finsbury Fields, when one of his Yorkshire tenants stepped out of the ranks, and, clapping him on the shoulder, said, "Ah's main blythe thoo's goin' to be King, Dickon."

Egremont and Chambre were in the midst on horseback, riding hither and thither, exhorting the people with inflammatory speeches to be firm in their determination not to pay the tax, telling them that all England was with them, and not to listen to the Earl, who was one of the King's advisers in levying the tax; further, that if need be they would lead them to London and compel the King to remit the tax, or drag him from his throne.

At this time the Earl rode into the town, surrounded by a body of retainers, all men of rank, habited in brilliant costume, the livery of the Percies. He was assailed with mingled cheers from his tenants, and hisses and shouts of opprobrium from the insurgent mob. He attempted to address them, but the uproar became greater; again he made the attempt, when there arose a deafening discord of sounds from drums, kettles, and pans, accompanied by the yelling and howling of the mob, when, finding he could not gain their ear, he and his followers turned their horses' heads and trotted back to Topcliffe. As they passed away, the leaders shouted, "Bravely done, my merry men; this is our first victory; let us on to Topcliffe, and beard him in his castle, and then for London, to face the tyrant King in the Tower." The Earl and his followers gained the castle, and were seated in consultation on what were best to be done in the emergency, when loud shouts assailed their ears from outside, and, looking forth, they perceived that they had been followed by the mob, infuriated by the harangues of their leaders. Although implored not to do so, but to shut the gates and stand a siege, the Earl went out and faced the insurgents.

"What want you, good people?" he inquired.

"A remission of the tax," replied Egremont.

"I have no power or authority to do so," said the Earl.

"Who but you advised the King that not a penny should be abated?" shouted Chambre, and the mob yelled, and cried, "Down with him; he wants to rob our children of their bread."

The Earl was a proud man, and scorned to give a denial to the insinuation, which served to inflame the passions of the rioters to a still higher degree.

"He's silent, and that proves his guilt," shouted Chambre. "Down with him; such bloodsuckers should not be allowed to exist."

And then there was a brandishing of clubs and a rush forward of the mob, and in a few moments the Earl was stricken down, and beaten savagely as he lay. The mob then entered the castle tumultuously, and killed several of his domestics; but the barons and knights, fled to seek safety, or, as Skelton has it--

"Trustinge in noblemen, that wer wyth hym there; Bot all they fled from hym from falshode or fere, He was envyronde aboute on every syde, Withe his enemys that were stark mad and wode; Yet whils he stode he gave them woundes wyde, Alas! for southe! what thoughe his mynde were goode, His courage manly; yet there he shed his bloode. All left alone, alas! he fowt in vayne, For cruelly among them ther he was slayne."

Hence the insurgents went triumphantly, calling upon the people to unite with them in putting down kingly tyranny and financial oppression, but eventually they were met by the Earl of Surrey, who was sent against them, at Ackworth, near Pontefract, and dispersed. Chambre and others of the leaders were captured and hanged at York; but Egremont, thanks to the fleetness of his horse, escaped to Flanders, and was protected by the Yorkist Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy. What was his ultimate fate is not known.

The Earl was honoured with a most magnificent funeral in the Minster or Collegiate Church of St. John, Beverley, in a chapel built expressly for the reception of his remains, and beneath a tomb with rich Gothic canopy, adorned with sculptured figures, and emblazoned with the multitude of quarterings of the family. The body, after having been embalmed, was conveyed to his Castle of Wressil, and hence to Leckonfield, whence it was taken to Beverley, accompanied by a long and splendid procession, all robed and accoutred at the expense of the family. There were twelve lords with "gownes at 10s. the yerd;" twenty-four lords and knights "with gownes and hods;" sixty squires and gentlemen "with gownes and typets;" two hundred yeomen "in gownes;" "one hundred gromes and gentlemen's servants in gownes." There were also the bearers of the great standard, twelve bearers of sarcenet banners "betyn with my Lord's armys," sixty bearers of "Scutchions of Buckram betyn with my Lord's armys," and two officers of arms from the Herald's Office, London, to superintend the armorial arrangements, who were paid £20 for "their helpe and payne." Besides these there were five hundred priests, one thousand clerks, and representatives from the neighbouring monasteries, all habited in mourning, and bearing crucifixes, other church ornaments, and vessels and emblems of mortality. Mingling with these were four hundred torch-bearers, and bringing up the rear, 13,340 poor persons, who received, according to the will, a funeral dole of twopence each. Altogether the cost amounted to £1,037 6s. 8d., equal to, at least, £10,000 of the present value of money.

The body was met at the great west door of the Minster by the Provost, Vicars, Canons, choristers, and other officials of the Minster, who conducted the procession. A mournful anthem was chanted up the nave into the chancel, where a long and splendid service of masses and choral singing was performed, and the body lowered into its resting-place, amid the sobs and lamentations of those who had known and loved the Earl for his virtues. Of his tomb, with its "multiplicity of noble carved work and canopied arches," as described by Leland, there remain only the altar table, with its sides covered with armorial bearings, but without the figures which ranged round it in niches, and on the wall above the word "Esperance," the motto of the family, and "1494," the date of the funeral.

The Burning of Cottingham Castle.

Cottingham is a well-built, picturesque village, midway between Hull and Beverley, on the ancient road, but a quarter of a mile distant from the modern highway. It is a place of great antiquity, dating from the ancient British period, and deriving its name from Ket, a Celtic female deity, with the Saxon suffixes of ing and ham. In the days of Edward the Confessor, it belonged to one Gamel, who is supposed to have held a Thursday market there; and at the time of the Domesday Book, the manor, four miles in length, with five fisheries of 8,000 eels, was held by Hugh, son of Baldrick.

It was granted by William the Conqueror to Robert de Stuteville, surnamed Front de Boeuf, from whom it descended to Robert de Stuteville, or d'Estoteville, who was Sheriff of Yorkshire, twenty-first Henry II., and from him to William de Stuteville, _temp._ John, who, for some offence, was excommunicated by the Archbishop of York. He appealed to the King, who came to Cottingham to investigate the matter, and in the sequel compelled the prelate to give him absolution. Moreover, he granted to de Stuteville a charter empowering him to castellate his manor-house, and hold a weekly market and annual fair.

Nicholas de Stuteville died seventeenth Henry III., leaving two daughters, Joan and Margaret, as his co-heiresses, the former of whom married Hugh de Wake, descended from Leofric, viceroy Earl of Mercia, and his wife the famous Godiva, and from Hereward le Wac (the Wake), Lord of Brunne, the last, and one of the most formidable, opponents of the Norman Duke William, in his conquest of England. John, his grandson, was summoned as a baron twenty-third Edward I., whose daughter, Margaret, married Edmund of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, third son of King Edward I., and had issue, Joan, "the fair maid of Kent," who inherited the Barony of Wake, which she transmitted to her issue by her first husband, Thomas de Holand, and which fell in abeyance in 1497, as it still continues. She married, secondly, Edward, the Black Prince, and by him was mother of King Richard II.

King Edward I. was celebrating Christmas with the Wakes at Cottingham, when, being out hunting, he came to Wyke-super-Hull, and, struck with its capabilities as a port, granted the charter which laid the foundation of its future greatness, and changed its name to Kingstown-upon-Hull; and at the same time gave his host a charter of free warren over his manor, and authority to erect a gallows for the execution of criminals. Thomas, his son, in the following reign, obtained a charter of confirmation, with the privilege of holding a weekly market and two annual fairs, and authority to convert his residence into a castle of defence, and to garrison it with armed men. This Thomas founded, adjacent to the castle, a monastery of Austin Friars, on a site with a defective title, in consequence of which it was removed to Haltemprice, on another part of the estate.

The feudal barony was held _in capite_ by the service of one barony, and consisted of 4,000 acres, with £200 yearly rental from free tenants.

It was a beautiful August day in the year 1540. The reapers were in the fields about Cottingham, sickle in hand, cutting down the golden corn, and lumbering wains with solid wooden wheels, and drawn by oxen, were carrying away the sheaves to garner in the homesteads; the fruit of a thousand trees in the orchards surrounding the village hung, rich and luscious, pendant from the boughs, and ripening to perfection under the bright sunshine. The village consisted of a scattering of cross-timbered houses with wattled and mud-walled frames, latticed windows, and thatched roofs. From the midst thereof rose in proud and lofty dignity the majestic walls, turrets, and bastions of the Stutevilles, the Wakes, and now of the Holands, surrounded by a moat, which was crossed by a drawbridge, and the entrance defended by a barbican and a portcullis. Upon its battlements might be seen three or four men-at-arms, lounging lazily about, and amusing themselves by watching the passage of vessels and boats up and down the Humber. The pleasant clack of the baronial mill, and the occasional uplifted voices of the denizens of the farm-yards and pastures, alone broke the silence of the slumberous summer afternoon. In a hamlet within ken of the out-lookers on the parapets of the castle might be seen the now deserted house of the Augustinian Friars, at Haltemprice; for here no longer the Canons dropped their beads, muttered their prayers, or chanted their anthems; the ruthless hand of Henry had driven them forth upon the wide world to become supplicants for charity, alongside those who had erstwhile found succour at their gate. The priory and site had in the present year been granted to Thomas Culpepper, but he had not yet taken possession, and it lay desolate and silent, as did, at the same time, many another noble abbey and priory, scattered over the face of England.

Lord Wake, as he was called by courtesy, although he was only a tenure Baron, had been out in the direction of the now thriving town of Kingston-upon-Hull, and about the middle of the afternoon he came riding over the drawbridge, and passed through the arched gateway into the courtyard of his castle. Upon his fist he carried a favourite hawk, and he was accompanied by his falconer, and three or four liveried retainers. He leaped agilely from his horse, which was taken charge of by a groom, and, handing his hawk to the falconer, he passed through a portal to the domestic apartments, where he was met by his wife, a singularly beautiful woman, not much past the bloom of girlhood, and as modest, chaste, and pious as she was charming in feature, person, and demeanour. "What sport have you had this morning, husband mine?" inquired she, after an affectionate embrace. "Excellent," he replied; "my falcon has done wonders, he brought down a heron, who, from his size, must have been the patriarch of the shaw; but, dearest life! sport of that kind, brave as it may be, is as naught to the happiness I experience in thy dear society." Other expressions of endearment of a similar kind passed as they sat down to dinner, composed chiefly of venison and boar's flesh. Lord Wake was a great hunter in the surrounding woods of his domain, and as he sat at dinner he was surrounded by half a dozen petted boar and stag hounds, who gambolled at will about the apartment, or sat on their haunches, looking up at their master in anxious expectation of stray bones, which were thrown to them with no niggard hand.

The meal passed over almost in silence, which was only broken occasionally by remarks and discussion on domestic topics; but when it was finished, and Lady Wake had taken up her embroidery-frame, her husband told her that his sport had brought him to the gates of Kingstown, where he learnt that the King was in the town, who had arrived there unexpectedly. He was on his progress to York to meet his nephew, James V. of Scotland, and had come by a circuitous route "for fear of the enraged people," who, exasperated at the dissolution of the religious houses, and the King's assumption of supremacy over the Church, had two or three years previously raised a formidable insurrection, which they denominated the "Pilgrimage of Grace." The Mayor (Henry Thurcross), Lord Wake said, had sent the Sheriff to meet his Highness at the "boarded bridge" of Newland, on the confines of the county of Hull; had himself, with the aldermen, received him with great obeisance and due formalities at Beverley-gate, and had conducted him to the Manor Hall, the usual residence of Royalty when in the town, where he now was enjoying the splendid hospitality of the Corporation.

"The caitiff," exclaimed Lady Wake, "what does he want down here? His presence betokens no good, and woe betide those with whom he sojourns."