A Friar's Bloodfeud: (Knights Templar 20) (43 page)

The puppy gazed at him with a serious expression for a moment, and then bit his nose.

There are several strands to this story which gave me pause for thought when I first read them.

The first item was the matter of the murder of Nicholas Radford in about 1445. This poor fellow was a close friend of Lord
Bonville, who was not by any means a friend of the Earl of Devon. Radford, who was a prominent lawyer and had been a Justice
of the Peace, was surprised by a party of men on the night of 23 October. They went to his home at Upcot and set fire to his
outbuildings. When he went to his door, he was told that he was safe, and no more damage would be done to him or his property.
Reassured by this he allowed them inside. This was a serious mistake.

The thugs went through his house, stealing what they wanted, while their leader demanded that Radford should provide him with
food and drink. He told Radford that he was there to take him to his father. Yes, this man was Sir Thomas de Courtenay, the
Earl’s son. A noble, chivalric knight in his own right.

‘How can I get to your father now you’ve taken all my horses?’ Radford is said to have pointed out.

‘You’ll ride easily enough,’ Courtenay apparently responded, and left Radford with six of his men. They drew
their weapons and hacked him to death. In a final, appalling twist, the Courtenays sent men back to Radford’s house four days
later, where they held a ‘mock Coroner’s Inquest on Radford’ which concluded that he had committed suicide. When Radford’s
servants took the body to his grave, these men forced them to sing lewd songs on the way. A more despicable act is hard to
imagine.
¹

Second came the terrible record of crimes committed by the Despensers. We know that all too often such allegations were made
by people who were keen to gild the lily. Many medieval cases demonstrate this propensity. You only have to look at the ridiculous
accusations levelled against the Knights Templar to realise that. But I refuse to climb on that soapbox here.

It was a chance reading of Ian Mortimer’s excellent book
The Greatest Traitor
that made me consider this. He mentioned the execution of the younger Despenser at Hereford, at which there was a massive
list of accusations read out against him. As Ian himself says, ‘It would be tedious and depressing to list all of Despenser’s
misdealings.’ However, one specific allegation that caught my attention was the case of Lady Baret.

I must express my gratitude to Ian Mortimer, who spent some time explaining his own researches to me. It would seem that Lady
Baret was the widow of a minor knight, probably Stephen Baret of Swansea, who was killed fighting against the Despensers during
the Boroughbridge campaigns.

So why was she mentioned in the case against Despenser? Because it was alleged that he had her kidnapped, and then
tortured. All her limbs were broken and she lost her mind from the pain. This was not done because he had any hatred for her
personally, but because she had land that he coveted.

It would seem that this was pretty much a standard means of acquiring territory for Despenser. He was so over-powerful, so
aggressively acquisitive, that he would even capture and torture a poor widow in order to deprive her of the little she did
possess. Lady Baret was not the only woman whom he robbed. There are countless other examples, including even his sister-in-law,
the king’s own niece, Elizabeth, Roger Damory’s widow.

She was forced to sign away ‘the lordship of Usk (worth £770 per year) in return for that of Gower (worth £300 per year).’
²

Then he had the Gower taken from her too, to give it to a friend.

However, the main thing about Lady Baret’s story was that she was treated so abominably that his actions seem to have appalled
his peers (most of whom could have been equally ruthless).

And that was the point. When I read these two stories, I was forced to confront the fact of the violence that was so common
through this period. It is hard – in fact almost impossible – to comprehend the power that a few men could have over the lives
of others. In some cases the way that even the weakest in society were treated is a matter for astonishment almost, rather
than simple shock. The younger Despenser was a truly dreadful person. He sought only his own benefit at all times, and yet
he was by no means unique.

Such, then, were the two items of research which pointed me in the direction of this story. Naturally I have not felt the
need to be constrained by truth or actual events in Iddesleigh, Monkleigh or Fishleigh, though. This is entirely a work of
fiction.

As always, I can happily confirm that all errors are my own, while I have to acknowledge the marvellous help given to me by
Ian Mortimer.

Michael Jecks

North Dartmoor

April 2005

¹
Andrew McCall,
The Medieval Underworld
(Sutton, 2004),
page 108

²
Ian Mortimer,
The Greatest Traitor
(Cape, 2003),
pages 127
and
161