Prisoners of War in the Hundred Years War : Ransom Culture in the Late Middle Ages 9781139612043, 9781107010949

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P r i s o n e r s o f Wa r i n t h e H u n d r e d Y e a r s Wa r The status of prisoners of war was firmly rooted in the practice of ransoming in the Middle Ages. By the opening stages of the Hundred Years War, ransoming had become widespread among the knightly community, and the crown had already begun to exercise tighter control over the practice of war. This led to tensions between public and private interests over ransoms and prisoners of war. Historians have long emphasised the significance of the French and English crowns’ interference in the issue of prisoners of war, but this original and stimulating study questions whether they have been too influenced by the state-centred nature of most surviving sources. Based on extensive archival research, this book tests customs, laws and theory against the individual experiences of captors and prisoners during the Hundred Years War, to evoke their world in all its complexity. rÉmy ambühl is Lecturer in Medieval History at the University of Southampton.

Priso n e r s o f Wa r i n t h e Hun dred Y ear s Wa r Ransom Culture in the Late Middle Ages Ré my Ambü h l

cam bridge unive r sity p re s s Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Mexico City Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge C B 2 8R U , UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107010949 © Rémy Ambühl 2013 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2013 Printed and bound in the United Kingdom by the MPG Books Group A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Ambühl, Rémy. Prisoners of War in the Hundred Years War: Ransom Culture in the Late Middle Ages / Rémy Ambühl. pages  cm Includes bibliographical references and index. IS BN 978-1-107-01094-9 (hardback) 1. Hundred Years’ War, 1339–1453–Prisoners and prisons. I. Title. D C96.5.A43 2013 944′.0257–dc23 2012029710 IS BN 978-1-107-01094-9 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

To my mother and to the memory of my father.

C ont e nt s

Acknowledgements Note on currency List of abbreviations

page x xii xiii

I ntroduc tion Prisoners and ransoms The context of the Hundred Years War Public versus private interests

1 Law, ransom and the status of th e pri sone r of war

1 1 7 12

The rules The ‘Scottish question’: Edward III and Henry IV The weight of an alliance: Charles V and Charles VII Henry V, a ruthless master Conclusion

19 20 28 31 39 45 48 51 52 52 55 61 71 78

New policies for a new political order Guerrilla warfare and the status of prisoners of war Criminal charges against prisoners of war Conclusion

80 82 87 91 97

The law of arms Royal ordinances of war Honour The law of contract Lex talionis Money Conclusion

2 Pri nc e s, maste r s and p ris one r s 

3 Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy 

vii

Contents 4 The proce ss of ransoming (I): From capture to cap tivity The lure of profits The game of capture Transfer of prisoners Captivity Conclusion

5 Th e proce s s of rans oming (II): T h e p ri c e of fre e dom

98 98 102 111 115 125

Money-changing Money transfer Money-lending Licences and safe-conducts to trade Merchant-prisoners Conclusion

127 128 137 145 150 158 16 0 162 165 170 172 177 181

Ransom aids and French princes Noble levies: Jean de Chauvigny and his subjects Ransoms and royal taxations Conclusion

18 4 185 187 192 200

An initiative of the prisoner: from petition to grant Honourable, long and loyal service to the crown The enquiry Grants and grantees: a profile The contribution Conclusion

2 03 205 210 214 216 222 226

Captains and their men Treaties of surrender Companions, partners and brothers-in-arms

229 232 235 239

How to estimate the value of a prisoner Added costs A two-tier system Substitutes for ransoms: rebates and exchanges of prisoners Conclusion

6 Me rc hant s, banking and trade 

7 Assistance to prisone r s (I): Vas sal s and subje cts – the e nd of customary ai d s ? 

8 A ssi stance to p ris one r s (II): King s and pri nce s  – f ir st or last re s ort ? 

9 A ssi stance to p ris one r s (III): Th e soc ial circle of the p ris one r 

viii

Contents



246 255 257

Family support Conclusion

C onc lu si on

Bibliography Index

264 286

ix

Acknowle dge men ts

I crossed the Channel for the first time in October 2003. I wanted to improve my English and research skills by doing a Masters in History at the University of Nottingham, and I did so. But what was supposed to be a one-year-long interlude in my Franco-Belgian education ended up more like a turning point in my academic life. Nine years later, my adventure in the UK is still running. It has even been given a new impetus thanks to the Leverhulme Trust and the University of Southampton which generously agreed to fund a new research project on the capitulation of castles and urban communities in the Hundred Years War. I hope that the future holds many other good surprises like this one. British academia has been as welcoming as inspiring. Along the years, I have had the chance to meet leading scholars without whom this adventure would have been much shorter, and without whom this book would almost certainly not have seen the light. I owe them a great deal. My first thanks go to a French scholar, Professor Bertrand Schnerb, who taught and supervised me at the University of Lille 3 before I left the Continent. I am very grateful to him for his constant support ever since, despite the fact that I have pursued my academic path in the UK. (As he reminded me recently, Burgundy, of which he is an eminent specialist, was an ally of England for many years in the fifteenth century.) Professor Michael Jones, who I met at the University of Nottingham, is at the origin of my interest in prisoners of war, an interest which increased and expanded over the years under his expert eye. I thank him gratefully for his invaluable guidance. Yet I never thought of covering the whole of the Hundred Years War until it was suggested to me by Professor Chris Given-Wilson, my Ph.D. supervisor at the University of St Andrews. This was a big challenge which I would not have been able to take up without his judicious advice, insightful comments and constant encouragements. I have always been struck by the great generosity and benevolence of all the scholars I have had the chance to meet. x

Acknowledgements In this respect, I would also like to show my gratitude to Professors Christopher Allmand and Matthew Strickland as well as Dr Gwilym Dodd. Finally, I owe a special thanks to Professor Anne Curry who has very generously contributed to enhancing and refining ideas, both in terms of content and form, when I was revising the text of the thesis for publication. Chapter 3, in particular, has greatly benefited from her expertise in Lancastrian Normandy. All the mistakes and misunderstandings in this chapter, and indeed in the whole book, remain, quite naturally, my sole responsibility. Many more people and institutions contributed directly or indirectly to this work. The University of St Andrews awarded me the Bullough Scholarship for three years. I also received many discretionary bursaries from St Andrews which allowed me to carry out several research trips to London and Paris. More recently, I have received a generous award from the Scouloudi Foundation to carry out further research in Lille and Paris for the completion of the book. I have always found useful guidance at the various archival repositories and libraries that I have visited (The National Archives, Archives Nationales [Paris], British Library, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Archives Départementales du Nord [Lille], Bibliothèque Royale [Brussels]) and I am very grateful to their staff for this. As one can imagine, writing in English, for a native French speaker who had no particularly favourable disposition towards foreign languages, has not been an easy task, which could not have been carried out without the diligent and generous support of many proofreaders. They must be praised for their difficult work. Elizabeth Berry and John Painter, who got on with the final proofreading, have my full recognition. I must also thank the Faculty of Humanities of the University of Southampton which kindly agreed to fund this final step. The reader who comes across a sentence that reads awkwardly can be sure that it would have been much clumsier if it had not been checked so carefully. I would also like to express my gratitude here to Liz Friend-Smith, the editor of this book, for her professionalism and gentleness in dealing with a worrier like me. Thanks to Pam Scholefield as well, for the compilation of the index. It seems almost unforgivable not to write a good book in such favourable circumstances, all the more since I also found all the support that I could imagine to have in my friends and family. My grateful apologies go to all those who carefully listened to my prisoners’ stories and engaged with them, even if they did not ask to do so. Finally, I would like to address a special thanks to Brigid Bradley who shared this adventure with me from almost the beginning to almost the end. xi

Not e on cu r ren cy

There was a distinction between money of account, used as ‘measure of value’ and real money, that is, the actual coins, used as ‘medium of exchange’ in the late Middle Ages. Many a ransom or grant appears in livres tournois (lt) in the sources; this money of account was widely used in late medieval France.1 The pound sterling (£), which was the English equivalent, was worth 6 lt. The actual coins which circulated in late medieval Europe were made of gold, silver or billon (silver–copper alloy). Gold coins were used not only for costly ‘international’ transactions but also for the payment of ransoms, whatever their rate. France was the main theatre of war in the Hundred Years War, and most ransoms were set and paid in French gold coins. The franc d’or (fo) was the principal gold coin in France from the 1360s to the 1380s. It was progressively replaced by the écu d’or (eo) in the fifteenth century. From 1422 to 1453, the English government issued a rival gold coin to the eo in northern France: the salut d’or (so). The reader will also come across other currencies in this book. Given the wide fluctuations in the value of the different coins (especially in the first half of the fifteenth century), it has been deemed appropriate to leave all the amounts in their original currency. The following table, based on Peter Spufford’s Handbook of Medieval Exchange (London, 1986), gives an idea of the comparative value of the different currencies in that period. Pound sterling (£) Livre tournois (lt) Livre parisis (lp) Mark sterling Écu d’or (eo) Salut d’or (so) Franc d’or (fo) Florin (Rhine)

£1 = 6 lt (ratio: 0.167) £5 = 24 lp (ratio: 0.21) £2 = 3 marks (ratio: 0.66) – fixed rate £2 = 9 écus d’or (ratio: 0.22) £2 = 9 écus d’or (0.23)2 £1 = 6 francs d’or (ratio: 0.167) £1 = 6 florins (ratio: 0.167)

1 livre = 20 sous or shillings (s) = 240 deniers of pennies (d). 2 BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772, no. 925 (December 1434). 1

xii

Abb r e viat ion s

ACO Archives Départementales de la Côte d’Or ADN Archives Départementales du Nord AN Archives Nationales (Paris) BEC Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes BIHR See HR BJRUL Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library BL British Library BnF Bibliothèque Nationale de France CCR Calendar of Close Rolls CGEB Comptes généraux de l’état bourguignon entre 1416 et 1420, M. Mollat, ed., 3 vols. (Paris, 1965–69) CPR Calendar of Patent Rolls DKR, 44, 48 ‘Calendar of French Rolls’ in Reports of the Deputy Keeper. Appendix to 44th Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 1883), pp. 543–638; Appendix to 48th Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records (London, 1887), pp. 217–450. EHR English Historical Review eo écu(s) d’or fo franc(s) d’or Foedera Foedera, conventiones, litterae, etc., T. Rymer, ed., 20 vols. (London, 1704–35). Foedera (PRO) Foedera, conventiones, litterae, etc., T. Rymer, ed., 7 vols. (London, 1816–69), new edition ordered by the Public Record Office. Froissart (KL) J. Froissart, Oeuvres, J. M. B. Kervyn de Lettenhove, ed., 28 vols. (Brussels, 1867–77). Froissart (SHF) J. Froissart, Chroniques, S. Luce, G. Raynaud, L. and A. Mirot, 15 vols. (Paris, 1869–1975). xiii

List of abbreviations HR (BIHR) Historical Research (formerly the Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research) JMH Journal of Medieval History KBR Koninklijke Bibliotheek van België/Bibliothèque Royale de Belgique (Brussels) KLW M. Keen, The Laws of War in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1965). lp livres parisis lt livres tournois NMS Nottingham Medieval Studies ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography Poitiers F. Bériac-Lainé and C. Given-Wilson, Les Prisonniers de la bataille de Poitiers (Paris, 2002). POPC Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, N. H. Nicolas, ed., 7 vols. (London, 1834–7) PP Past and Present PROME The Parliament Rolls of Medieval England, C. Given-Wilson et al., eds., 16 vols. (Woodbridge, Suffolk and Rochester, 2005). RDP Recueil des documents concernant le Poitou contenus dans les registres de la chancellerie de France, vol. iv: 1369–76; vol. v: 1376–90; vol. vii: 1403–30; vol. viii: 1430–47, vol. x: 1456–64, P. Guérin, ed. (Poitiers, 1888–1906). so salut(s) d’or st sou tournois TNA The National Archives (London) TRHS Transactions of the Royal Historical Society TSLME The Soldier in Later Medieval England (online database: www.icmacentre.ac.uk/soldier/database)

xiv

Int rodu c t ion

P ris one r s and rans om s The fate of prisoners of war in the Middle Ages is intimately connected with the growth of the practice of ransoming. Ransoming has been practised since time immemorial.1 But while in former times it was only one fate amongst many, and not necessarily the preferred option – indiscriminate slaughter, enslavement or mutilation seem to have been more common – the situation changed in the Middle Ages. It has been argued that the Christian doctrine encouraged the Christian community to free or to ransom its fellow believers.2 There is still debate amongst historians as to when widespread recognition and acceptance of ransoming occurred in medieval Europe. Two opposing interpretations have been put forward. For Matthew Strickland and John Gillingham, the transition took place in northern France in the tenth and eleventh centuries.3 These historians 1 For the treatment of prisoners in ancient Greece, see P. Ducrey, Le Traitement des prisonniers de guerre dans la Grèce antique (Paris, 1968); see also P. Sabin, H. van Wees and M. Whitby, The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Warfare, 2 vols. (Cambridge, 2007), vol. i, pp. 181, 396–7, 415, 459, 511. Ducrey (p. 270) argues that once Rome was involved in the eastern Mediterranean, exchanges of prisoners, which took place between Greek cities, were no longer practised. It must be noted, however, that the practice of ransoming was not totally unfamiliar in early Roman history, see E. Levy, ‘Captivus redemptus’, Classical Philology, 38 (1943), 159–76, at pp. 160–1. For various fates of prisoners in ancient Rome, see Sabin et al., The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Warfare, vol. ii, pp. 140, 200–1, 299, 371. 2 This was ‘both a work of mercy and a dramatisation of the Christian’s personal and corporate experience of redemption by Christ from captivity to sin and death’. C. Oysek, ‘The Ransom of Captives: Evolution of a Tradition’, The Harvard Theological Review, 74 (1981), 365–86, at p. 385. For an example of a political use of the practice of ransoming in the early Middle Ages, see W. Klingshirn, ‘Charity and Power: Cesarius of Arles and the Ransoming of Captives in Sub-Roman Gaul, The Journal of Roman Studies, 75 (1985), 183–203. For alternative fates of prisoners of war, see G. Halsall, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West, 450–900 (London, 2003), p. 213. 3 M. Strickland,‘Slaughter, Slavery or Ransom:The Impact of the Conquest on Conduct in Warfare’, in C. Hicks, ed., England in the Eleventh Century (Stamford, 1992), pp. 41–60; M. Strickland, ‘Killing or Clemency? Ransom, Chivalry and Changing Attitudes to Defeated Opponents in Britain and Northern France, 7–12th Centuries’, in H.-H. Kortum, ed., Krieg im Mittelalter (Berlin, 2001),

1

Introduction associate the foundations and emergence of ransoming with the development and diffusion of the chivalric ethos in that period. Strickland suggests that several decisive factors played a part in this process. Warfare was confined to conflicts between rival Frankish dynasties or to small-scale local skirmishing between rival nobles within the limit of the regnum; since enslavement of prisoners was not practised between Christians, these internal wars within the Frankish nobility encouraged some form of leniency in the treatment of prisoners of war. Dissemination of the practice of ransoming as the preferred option is likely to be linked with this increased political fragmentation and the rise of castle-based warfare; this required financial resources for the construction and defence of castles, which made rapid conquest more difficult. Prisoners were therefore seen as offering opportunities to make profits in a context that also created more favourable circumstances for negotiations.The payment of a ransom was facilitated by the growing availability of coins in a developing monetary economy. This theory, however, is not universally accepted. Yvonne Friedman contests the late evidence on which it is based. For her there is no clear sign of the inception of chivalric mores before the twelfth century. She sees the adoption of the practice of ransoming as occurring during the Third Crusade, arguing that before that time crusaders (Franks) showed no willingness to ransom captives.4 The turning point for Friedman is the battle of Hattin in 1187. As she puts it, ‘when almost the entire fighting force of the Latin Kingdom fell into captivity the image of captivity was bound to change.’5 From that point onwards, crusaders adopted the practices of ransoming and prisoner exchange which were already established in the Muslim world. Writing in the 1960s, Colonel G. I. A. D. Draper had also considered the possibility of ‘borrowing’ from the war practices of the Muslims. He also speculated that the practice of ransoming might have entered western Europe gradually, long before the crusades, via the Eastern Empire of Byzantium which was regularly at war with the Muslims from the seventh century onwards.6 Matthew Strickland pp. 93–121; J. Gillingham, ‘1066 and the Introduction of Chivalry into England’, in G. Garnett and J. Hudson, eds., Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy: Essays in Honour of Sir James Holt (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 21–55. 4 Y. Friedman, Encounter Between Enemies: Captivity and Ransom in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Leiden, 2002). See also her book review of J. Dunbabin, Captivity and Imprisonment in Medieval Europe, 1000–1300 (Basingstoke, 2002), in the Medieval Review at http://hdl.handle.net/2027/spo. baj9928.0401.006 (accessed on 7 April 2008). 5 Friedman, Encounter, p. 7. 6 G. I. A. D. Draper, ‘The Law of Ransom during the Hundred Years War’, The Military Law and Law of War Review, 5 (1968), 263–77. The exploration of the origins of ransom practice is the most original part of this article which otherwise discusses at length Maurice Keen’s The Laws of War in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1965). Strong evidence of ransoming practice between Byzantine and Arab empires in the second half of the eighth century is to be found in E. W. Brooks, ‘Byzantines and Arabs in the Time of the Early Abbasids’, EHR, 60 (1900), 728–47.

2

Introduction has challenged the theory of ‘borrowing’ from the East, questioning the reliability of the sources used by Friedman which allege extensive massacres before the battle of Hattin, and reasserting the validity of his own sources and the arguments for the development and dissemination of the practice of ransoming from northern France.7 These debates will no doubt continue. Jean Dunbabin has added an extra theoretical layer to these ideas. According to her, ‘in the course of the thirteenth century, the status of prisoner of war, which was tacitly acknowledged by the code of chivalry [through ransoming] had also found its theoretical foundation with the emergence of the notion of public war’.8 In other words, since only just wars were considered to be public wars proclaimed and waged by sovereign authorities, in her view, it became possible to distinguish between the soldier who was doing his duty towards his sovereign and who was not therefore a criminal, and the soldiers participating in his lord’s feuds or seeking revenge on his neighbour or promoting his own personal gain, who might deserve punishment for his offences.9

Thus, by the end of the thirteenth century, knightly soldiers captured in public wars would normally enjoy the differentiated status of prisoners of war, which guaranteed their lives would be spared and their freedom regained through the payment of a ransom. Another activity which was firmly grounded in the experience of warriors – the tournament – may have had a greater impact on the progress of the practice of ransoming within knightly mores. The rise of the tournament in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is likely to have contributed to the establishment and codification of ransoming practices in the habits of combatants.10 Indeed, in this period, there were few rules to distinguish tournament from real battle, apart from the object of the tournament which was to capture and ransom, rather than to kill, knights. The code of conduct of the ‘game’ specified that the prisoner could not be held in captivity and was to be released as soon as he had agreed on the price of his ransom. Knights who felt themselves mistreated could seek redress from the great lords who acted as referees. All these rules, as we shall see, prefigure the ransom system as it applied during the course M. Strickland, ‘The Vanquished Body: Some Conclusions and Comparisons’, in M. Fierro and F. Garcia Fitz, eds., El cuerpo derrotado: como trataban musulmanes y cristianos a los enemigos vencidos (Peninsula Iberica, ss.VIII–XIII) (Madrid, 2008), pp. 531–70.  8 Dunbabin, Captivity, p. 86.  9 Dunbabin, Captivity, p. 10. 10 M. Keen, Chivalry (London and New Haven, Conn., 1984), pp.  100–1; J. R. V. Barker, The Tournament in England, 1100–1400 (Woodbridge, 1986), pp. 44, 134, 143–4; R. Barber and J. R. V. Barker, Tournaments, Jousts, Chivalry and Pageants in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 14–15, 21, 190.  7

3

Introduction of the Hundred Years War. These last theories remain rather speculative, however. The causal link between the status of ‘prisoner of war’ and the emergence of the notion of the public war, and between the practices of tournaments and war, is never explicitly stated in the sources. One of the attractions of the Hundred Years War for an in-depth examination of ransoms and prisoners of war is that the wealth of sources allows the historian to go beyond speculation in exploring the different aspects of this topic. Such sources allow the period to be studied in its own right without the need to bring in material from a later period, a problem which besets those writing on earlier periods. There is a danger of falling into a teleological argument, i.e. the interpretation of a fact or phenomenon in terms of its supposedly inevitable consequences. Although he does it very cautiously, Matthew Strickland, for example, investigates the law of arms in the eleventh and twelfth centuries using the hindsight of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which are not only far better documented but also saw the constitution of a more formalised legal code of conduct in war.11 Any form of ‘logical’ evolution which is imposed needs to be identified and its validity questioned. The late Middle Ages is usually seen as a period of transition between the feudal and chivalrous high Middle Ages, when war was an individual business, and the early modern period, when emerging modern states took a firm hold of the whole process. This paradigm, according to Philippe Contamine, is not appropriate in the case of prisoners and ransoms. In his comparison of evidence for the thirteenth century and for the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, he finds that the French crown interfered more persistently in the earlier period.12 Whilst he makes the observation based on a relatively small sample of evidence from the thirteenth century, a period when source materials are more exclusively royal and princely than in ensuing centuries, his remark is an important call for vigilance. It reminds us of the need to examine the sources closely and to be particularly careful in using appropriate terminology. What was a prisoner of war in the time of the Hundred Years War? Interestingly, the phrase ‘prisoner of war’ seems to have made its first appearance in that very period both in its French form, ‘prisonnier de guerre’, and in its Latin form, ‘prisionarius de guerra’.13 The earliest M. Strickland, War and Chivalry:The Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066– 1217 (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 31–54. 12 P. Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant: les usages de la guerre du XIVe au XVIIIe siècle: rançons et butins’, in P. Contamine, ed., Guerre et compétition entre les états européens du XIVe au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1998), pp. 199–236, at pp. 204–6. 13 See the remark of Philippe Contamine in ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, p. 201. There is no reference to this phrase in Godefroy’s Dictionnaire de l’ancienne langue française et de tous ses dialectes 11

4

Introduction references that I have come across date to the 1420s. The first known reference involves a legal suit held in the Parlement of Paris (i.e. the Supreme Court of France) in 1424 in which Sir John Fastolf claimed Denis Sauvage as his ‘prisonnier de guerre’.14 Sauvage contested Fastolf ’s claim on the ground that ‘il n’est point prisonnier de guerre et n’est poursuivy que pour plegerie’ (he is not prisoner of war and is sued only for his acting as a surety for the payment of a ransom). Two years later, we learn in a letter of remission issued by the French royal chancellery of Henry VI in May 1426, that the English esquire William Godebec wondered whether the Norman prisoner who was in his hands could be considered as ‘prisonnier de guerre’, or whether he should be punished as a criminal.15 About two months later, the knight Sinador de Giresme and several other French soldiers told the Parlement of Paris that they had taken prisoner one Robert Parentis between Paris and Luzarchais, and while they were on their way with their ‘prisonarium de guerra’ to Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire, they were arrested and their prisoner seized from their hands.16 Finally, the English esquire John Stille declared to the English authorities in 1428 that he had considered Guillaume Leheux as ‘prisonnier de guerre’ because he had not sworn allegiance to the English king and because Leheux was captured while riding on a horse along with the enemies of the king.17 Down to the 1420s the closest match was ‘prisonnier de bonne guerre [prisoner of “good” war]’ (1415).18 More commonly, in the fourteenth century a combatant would be said to have been ‘pris … par/ pour fait de guerre’ (taken … by act of war) (1351, 1360),19 ‘tempore guerrarum … captum fuisse’ (having been taken in time of war) (1363, du IXe au XVe siècles, 10 vols. (Paris, 1881–1902), nor in the Anglo-Norman Dictionary (www. anglo-norman.net/cgi-bin/form-s1; accessed on 24 January 2012). The first mention of the English form ‘prisoner of war’ dates back to 1608 according to the Oxford English Dictionary (www.oed.com/view/Entry/267433; accessed on 24 January 2012). 14 English Suits Before the Parlement of Paris, 1420–1436, C. T. Allmand and C. A.  J. Armstrong, eds. (London, 1982), pp. 31, 33. 15 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel (1294–1376), S. Luce, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1879–83), vol. i, pp. 244–7, no. 81. 16 AN, X1a 9191, fol. 34v–35v (27 July 1426). On this case, see also G. Little, The Parlement of Poitiers: War, Government and Politics in France, 1418–1436 (London, 1981), p. 172. 17 BL, Add. Ch. 3622 (24 April 1428). 18 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). ‘Good war’ in this example seems to refer to the circumstances of open war as opposed to truce and ‘guerre couverte’ (a form of private war), rather than to the circumstances of ‘just’ as opposed to ‘unjust’ war, but this is not wholly clear. There are later occurrences after the 1420s of the phrases ‘prisonnier de bonne guerre’ and (prisoners captured) ‘in facto bone guerre’. AN, X1a 67, fol. 105r (10 June 1430); 9194, fol. 144r (4 August 1436). 19 P.-C. Timbal et al., La Guerre de Cent Ans vue à travers les registres du Parlement, 1337–1369 (Paris, 1961), p. 332 (3 July 1351); AN, JJ 90, fol. 237v–238, no. 474 (March 1360).

5

Introduction 1365, 1367),20 ‘pris de guerre’ (taken in war) (1370, 1380),21 as opposed, it would seem, to having been illegitimately taken during a period of truce.22 Yet it must be noted that such phrases as, for instance, ‘emprisonner pour fait de guerre’ (1425), ‘in facto bone guerre capti’ (1430) and ‘prisonnier de bonne guerre’ (1436) were still commonly used in the 1420s and 1430s.23 Does the appearance of the term ‘prisoner of war’ mark a change in attitudes and mentalities? Here it would help to know exactly who was designated a prisoner of war. We can see that all the named individuals who are qualified in the sources as prisoners of war can be identified as soldiers: that is, the English knight John Cressy,24 the French knight Jean de la Haie,25 the Welsh knight Matthew Gough,26 and the two Burgundian esquires, Jean de Rochebaron27 and Guérart de Brimeu.28 Whether or not this association of captured combatants with prisoners of war was wholly systematic is difficult to say. This provokes another equally important question. Who would be considered as a combatant and who would not? The Hundred Years War was a period in which there was no permanent army, at least not until French military reforms in the 1440s; arguably the whole of society was thus involved in the effort of war.29 It is perhaps no coincidence that the notion of prisoner of war emerged in the 1420s after the treaty of Troyes had been sealed. This was when the English king had become legitimate heir to the French throne and the French supporters of the dauphin became rebellious subjects. There was therefore a more pressing need to define a status of combatant and prisoner of war – men who would have their lives saved as opposed to the traitors and criminals who faced the death penalty.This hypothesis 20 Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 315 (23 February 1367), p. 329 (2 April 1365), p. 361 (4 March 1363). 21 TNA, SC 8/118/5878 (c. 1372–7); TNA, Memoranda Rolls, 156 (13 May 1380). 22 For instance, Jean Jodrell of Poitou asked John of Gaunt and the Council for assistance in paying his ransom following his capture in the king’s service by the Lord of Mareuil, ‘come il ad esté pluseurs foit pris de guerre … et que le samady devant Noel derrein passé en temps de triwe fust pris’. He claimed to have lost all his horses, equipment and chattels ‘et qanqz il avoit et est mys a 300 franks’, and that he could not pay this ransom. TNA, SC 8/118/5878. 23 AN, X1a 4794, fol.  83v (15 May 1425); X1a, 67, fol.  105r (10 June 1430); X1a, 9194, fol.  144v (4 August 1436). 24 BnF, PO 929, Cressy, 2 (8 April 1432). On Cressy, see A. Curry, ‘Sir John de Cressy (1407–1445)’ (TSLME) (www.icmacentre.ac.uk/soldier/database/November2008.php; accessed on 9 May 2010). 25 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (22 December 1434). 26 AN, X1a 9193, fol. 156v (4 August 1436). On Matthew Gough, see A. D. Carr, ‘Gough, Matthew (d. 1450)’, in ODNB. 27 ADN, B 1988, fol. 172v (18 May 1445). 28 ADN, B 1988, fol. 202v (20 March 1446). On the family of Brimeu, see W. Paravicini, Guy de Brimeu: Der burgundische Staat und seine adlige Führungsschicht unter Karl dem Kühnen (Bonn, 1975). 29 See Philippe Contamine’s remarks on the extensive militarisation of French society in P. Contamine, Guerre, état et société à la fin du moyen âge: études sur les armées des rois de France, 1337–1494 (Paris, 1972), pp. 550–1.

6

Introduction of the impact of the changing political scene on the status of prisoner of war will be more fully discussed in Chapter 3. The modern association of the status of prisoner of war as deriving from the status of combatant applied in the Hundred Years War, at least in the fifteenth-century phase. This is, I hope, the closest this study ever comes to anachronism since I have endeavoured to examine the evidence in the context of the period alone. In this study, therefore, for the sake of clarity and simplicity, prisoners of war are combatants who were captured by the enemy.30 Th e conte xt of the Hundre d Y ear s War How widespread was the ransoming of prisoners of war in the Hundred Years War? How favourable a context for the ransoming of prisoners of war was this conflict? Or, in other words, how did the political issues at stake in the Hundred Years War impact on the practice of ransoming? The face of war had changed in the late Middle Ages with the slow appropriation of the concept of sovereignty. Private (or seigneurial) wars were not eradicated, but the idea that only sovereign authorities were entitled to wage war had spread widely.31 A just war, as I have already highlighted, was now a public war.32 This was significant since only for such a war were lawyers agreed that there was no limit on the taking of spoil and prisoners.33 In that sense, the Hundred Years War, in which French and

30 Non-combatants too could be ransomed. It has therefore been a challenge for me on more than one occasion to distinguish combatant from non-combatant prisoners. On the ransoming of non-combatants, see the studies of Nicholas A. R. Wright, ‘Ransoms of Non-Combatants During the Hundred Years War’, JMH, 17 (1991), 323–32; Knights and Peasants: The Hundred Years War in the French Countryside (Woodbridge, 1998), especially pp. 62–79. While evidence gathered in these two works is more particularly focused on the fourteenth century, the Treaty Rolls (TNA, C 76), especially at the very end of the conflict, provide examples of merchants who received safe-conducts to go back to their estates and return with the money for their ransom. Many more examples could surely be added here. 31 On the terminology of seigneurial wars, see J. Firnhaber-Baker,‘Seigneurial War and Royal Power in Later Medieval Southern France’, PP, 60 (2010), 37–76, at pp. 37–8. 32 For the gradual superimposition of the notions of ‘just war’ and ‘public war’ in the later Middle Ages, see KLW, pp. 69–81. This view is supported by F. H. Russell, The Just War in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1975), pp. 299–303; S. H. Cuttler, The Law of Treason and Treason Trials in Later Medieval France (Cambridge, 1981), especially pp. 4–27. On bans on, and persistence of, seigneurial wars in France, see Firnhaber-Baker, ‘Seigneurial War’, pp. 37–76. See also, on Gascony, M. G. A. Vale, ‘Seigneurial Fortifications and Private War in Later Medieval Gascony’, in M. Jones, ed., Gentry and Lesser Nobility in Late Medieval Europe (Gloucester, 1986), pp. 133–49. And for a more general approach to this question, see also Howard Kaminsky, ‘The Noble Feud in the Later Middle Ages’, PP, 50 (2000), 55–83. 33 KLW, p. 70.

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Introduction English kings were opposed, with the latter claiming the kingdom of the former, was the perfect ground for such war practices. This, however, did not necessarily accord with the political aims of the two crowns. In theory, the royal authorities had the wherewithal to control private ransoms.That same concept of sovereignty which was a necessary condition for prisoner-taking could be used to place a cap on the practice. Some theorists, such as Honorat Bovet, writer of a chivalric treatise entitled The Tree of Battles in the second half of the 1380s, considered that all prisoners should be handed over to the crown since war was waged on its behalf and soldiers were in its pay.34 The crown could dispose of them as it wished. In addition, sovereignty established the French king as an emperor in his kingdom. Any offence to the king’s sovereignty or majesty could be considered as lèse-majesté, which, if applied with full rigour, could send a traitor to the scaffold.35 The Hundred Years War was essentially a fight about sovereignty, whether over Aquitaine or over the whole kingdom of France. Any prisoner taken in this conflict could, in theory, have found himself guilty of lèse-majesté and executed. Taken to the extreme, the argument of sovereignty concerned all the people who set foot on French soil. It was argued in the Parlement of Paris in 1443 that, since the French king was emperor in his kingdom, anyone who arrived in France automatically became a French subject and thus owed loyalty and obedience to the French king.36 If he failed to do this, he would be guilty of lèse-majesté. Therefore, the argument follows that the English invasion of France was an attack on the majesty of the king, and any Englishman who took part in it was thus guilty of lèse-majesté. (This politico-legal argument, which was put forward after the Treaty of Arras in 1435, denied the founding principle of the treaty of Troyes which gave the French crown to an English king.) In practice, however, evidence in the Hundred Years War of ‘private’ ransoms – that is, ransoms demanded from prisoners of war by individual 34 H. Bovet, The Tree of Battles, G. W. Coopland, transl. (Liverpool, 1949), pp. 134–5. For the pronunciation and spelling of his name as ‘Honorat Bovet’, see H. Biu, ‘Honorat Bovet’, Histoire littéraire de la France, Paris, 43 (2005), pp. 83–128. Hélène Biu is preparing a new edition of the text. 35 On lèse-majesté, see Cuttler, The Law of Treason, passim; M. Jones, ‘“Bons Bretons et bon Françoys”: The Language and Meaning of Treason in Later Medieval France’, TRHS, 5th series, 32 (1982), 91–112; ‘Trahison et l’idée de lèse-majesté dans la Bretagne du XVe siècle’, in La Faute, la répression et le pardon: Actes du 107e congrès national des sociétés savantes – Brest, 1992. Section de philologie et d’histoire jusqu’à 1610 (Paris, 1984) pp. 91–106; C. Gauvard, ‘De grace especial’: crime, état et société en France à la fin du moyen âge, 2 vols. (Paris, 1991), vol. ii, pp. 842–7. 36 A. Bossuat, ‘Le Règlement des confiscations sous le règne de Charles VII’, Comptes-Rendus des Séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 91 (1947), 6–16, at pp. 8–9.

8

Introduction captors or masters37 rather than by sovereign authorities – is simply overwhelming, even if the English crown had the right to a share in the profits of war. To date, the concentration of the historiography on prisoners of war in the Hundred Years War has been on the impact that ransoms had, in many different circumstances, on the career, life and family of prisoners.38 The sustained interest of the scholarly community in this particular aspect of the topic is all the more fascinating to us now when the fate of prisoners of war is governed by international humanitarian laws. However, these case studies of individuals are far from representative of the whole of society, since they are focused without exception on the high nobility and often those of royal blood. To some degree this has been as a result of the surviving sources. As we go down the social ladder, the evidence becomes increasingly rare, fragmentary and scattered – too much so to be able to build a study around an individual case. The ransom culture was not, however, strictly or solely aristocratic, as is shown, for instance, by the studies of Chris Given-Wilson and Françoise Bériac-Lainé on the prisoners of Poitiers (1356) and my own on the prisoners of Agincourt (1415).39 Yet, the portrait painted by the aristocratic case studies, which often involved impossibly large ransoms for 37 The captor of a prisoner was considered as his master once he had taken the oath of his prisoner to be good and loyal to him. This terminology will be further discussed in due time (see pp. 19–20). From a practical point of view, the existence of these two terms allows for a distinction to be made between the actual captor of a prisoner and subsequent ‘masters’ to whom the prisoner may have been transferred. In general, therefore, I have used the term ‘master’ in this study to qualify any ‘owner’ of a prisoner whom we cannot be sure was the original captor.This is often the case. 38 J. Huillard-Bréholles, ‘La Rançon du duc de Bourbon Jean Ier, 1415–1436’, Mémoires présentés a l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 8 (1874), 37–91; G. Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulême (1412–1445)’, Revue Historique, 62 (1896), 42–74; Eddy Bauer, ‘La Captivité de Jean de Neuchâtel à Semur-en-Auxois’, Musée Neuchâtelois, 19, 1932, 53–60; ‘Au service de Bourgogne: la grande rançon de Jean de Neuchâtel’, Musée Neuchâtelois, 24, 1937, 234–46; ‘Le Traité de rançon de Jean de Neuchâtel’, Musée Neuchâtelois, 40, 1953, 184–94; A. Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais et la rançon du poète Jean Régnier, bailli d’Auxerre’, in F. Lot, M. Roques and C. Brunel, eds., Mélanges d’histoire du moyen âge dédiés à la mémoire de Louis Halphen (Paris, 1951), pp. 27–32; A. Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de guerre au XVe siècle: la rançon de Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, Annales de Bourgogne, 23 (1951), 7–35; ‘Les Prisonniers de guerre au XVe siècle: la rançon de Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, Annales de l’Est, 5th series, 2 (1951), 145–62; A. Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons au XVe siècle: la captivité de Jean Ier, duc de Bourbon’, Cahiers d’Histoire, 6 (1961), 41–58; M. A. Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost of War:The Moleyns Ransom and the Hungerford Land-Sales, 1453–1487’, Southern History, 8 (1986), 11–31; M. C. E. Jones, ‘The Fortunes of War: The Military Career of John, Second Lord Bourchier (d. 1400)’, Essex Archaeology and History, 26 (1995), 145–61; M. H. Stansfield, ‘John Holland, Duke of Exeter and Earl of Huntingdon and the Costs of the Hundred Years War’, in M. A. Hicks, ed., Profit, Piety and the Professions in Later Medieval England (Gloucester, 1990), pp. 103–18; J.-L. Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston paid his Ransom; or, The Mistakes of an Italian Bank’, in L. Clark, ed., Conflicts, Consequences and the Crown in the Late Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 101–18. 39 F. Bériac-Lainé and C. Given-Wilson, Les Prisonniers de la bataille de Poitiers (Paris, 2002); R. Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers d’Azincourt (1415)’, Revue du Nord, 89 (2007), 755–88.

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Introduction which payments were protracted over many years and which, in some instances, caused the demise of an entire lineage, needs to be balanced. Indiscriminate massacres of lower-ranking prisoners still took place in the Hundred Years War, right until the end of the conflict.40 However, it is instructive that commoners such as John More and Jean de Rousselet, two sergeants-at-arms, could claim, towards the end of the Hundred Years War, to have been ruined by no less than seven and fourteen captures respectively during their long careers in the service of the English crown in France. It indicates not only that the ransom culture embraced the whole social spectrum but also that the process of ransoming could run smoothly and quickly enough to allow a succession of returns to service and further captures.41 The well-preserved English records of Norman garrisons in the fifteenth century, together with various administrative and legal documents, are particularly valuable in shedding light on the application of the ransom system to soldiers of lower rank, as will be revealed in Chapter 5.42 Ransom was not the only fate that awaited combatants who survived their capture. Michael K. Jones, for instance, has described the mechanisms of what he called ‘ransom brokerage’, which involved the intervention of a ‘broker’ or patron who organised, in broad terms, the exchange of prisoners of war.43 Yet this system implied the disbursement of large sums of money.44 Bankrupt prisoners could still be offered alternative ways to regain their freedom, such as changing allegiance. Political and strategic factors can also influence the fate of prisoners, as we will see in Chapters 2 and 3. But ransoms, or the idea of putting a price on the liberation of the prisoner, remained the favourite option for the great majority in military society. Ransom was therefore widespread and, by the end of the war, had reached every echelon of the social hierarchy. Evidence also shows that ransoms were deep-rooted in the social mores as they applied from the beginning of the Hundred Years War,45 and almost On killings, see pp. 38–9, 46–8. 41 CPR 1441–6, p. 315; TNA, E 404/52/232 (21 August 1446). 42 The full potential of the counter-rolls of Norman garrisons in English Normandy in the first half of the fifteenth century was shown in P. Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins dans la Normandie anglaise, 1424–1444’, in La Guerre et la paix au moyen âge, Actes du 101e congrès des sociétés savantes (Paris, 1978), pp. 241–70; reprinted in his La France aux XIVe et XVe siècles: hommes, mentalités, guerre et paix (London, 1981). Although I have consulted a lot of these documents in French and English archives, I am still much indebted to Contamine’s study, as the reader will realise. 43 M. K. Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage in the Fifteenth Century’, in P. Contamine, C. Giry-Deloison and M.  H. Keen, eds., Guerre et société en France, en Angleterre et en Bourgogne, XIVe–XVe siècles (Villeneuve-d’Asq, 1991), pp. 221–35. 44 Jones’s ransom brokerage and exchanges of prisoners are revisited in Chapter 5. 45 The case of William Montagu, earl of Salisbury, is a counter-example. He was captured by the French near Lille in 1340. Philip VI would have threatened him with death, but he was ultimately 40

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Introduction continuously throughout the conflict, even when the ‘international’ conflict was superimposed by civil or seigneurial wars.46 Virtually every circumstance in the field could give rise to capture and ransom: by order of visibility in the sources, battles come first because of the rich haul of important prisoners taken on such occasions; sieges and the storming and surrender of fortresses and urban communities come second; and the third place is given to guerrilla warfare made up of small-scale raids and encounters, where lesser visibility in the sources is arguably inversely proportional to its frequency. The approach of this study is comprehensive. I have already highlighted my intention to encompass the broadest possible social spectrum. Similarly, it would not be appropriate to concentrate on the more obvious circumstances of capture, such as at battles, leaving aside what is less visible, such as sieges, raids, or guerrilla warfare. It is virtually impossible, however, to produce an in-depth coverage of the 116 years of Anglo-French conflict, given the extent of surviving material.The primary research that lies at the foundation of this study reflects this wealth of documentation. Chronicles, journals, memoirs, poetry, miracle stories, court cases, petitions, letters of grace and remission, royal orders, financial accounts, quittances (receipts) and safe-conducts have all been used in order to leave as few dark corners as possible. It is mainly (but not exclusively) focused on two periods: the 1370s and the 1420s to 1440s. The reason I have focused on these periods is twofold. First, it is their sharp contrast. While the 1370s were marked by the French recovery after the disaster of Poitiers, the 1420s and 1430s saw the high point of the English occupation of France. My research has since extended to the 1440s and beyond. Second, Françoise Bériac-Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson’s monograph on the prisoners of Poitiers (1356) and my previous research on Agincourt (1415)

dissuaded by John of Bohemia, who pointed out that Salisbury could be exchanged with prisoners of the English. He was released on parole under the terms of the truth of Espechelin in September 1340 and was definitively released from his obligation as a prisoner through an exchange of prisoners in 1342. W. M. Ormrod, ‘Montagu, William, First Earl of Salisbury (1301–1344)’, in ODNB. For examples of ransoming practices, see also J. Sumption, The Hundred Years War, vol. i: Trial by Battle (London, 1990), pp. 469–70; C. J. Rogers, War Cruel and Sharp: English Strategy under Edward III (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 214–15, 250–1. I must acknowledge here that I have not undertaken primary research for the first stage of the war. 46 For prisoners taken in the context of seigneurial wars, see the observations of J. Firnhaber-Baker, ‘Techniques of Seigneurial War in the Fourteenth Century’, JMH, 36 (2010), 90–103. Seigneurial wars are not always easily distinguishable from public wars. The conflict between the counts of Armagnac and Foix which culminated with the battle of Launac (1362) and saw a very rich haul of prisoners ransomed by the latter, cannot be counted as seigneurial wars since these great princes were recognised as having the right to wage war on their own behalf. KLW, p. 81.

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Introduction could be drawn on as useful points of comparison.47 Whilst the Scottish front is considered in Chapter 2, this work is primarily concerned with the direct war between England and France. The purpose of this work is to consider prisoners of war and ransom culture in all their complexity. A wealth of documentation and depth of research do not mean that every imaginable question can be answered. In general, it is the sources that orientate the choices of the medieval historian, dictating the aspects of the topic studied. They often leave grey areas or provide unsatisfactory answers to the questions they raise.This remark is all the more relevant with regard to such a topic as ransom culture in the late Middle Ages; that is, a culture which was private at its core, as will be argued throughout this book, but which we need to study through documents chiefly emanating from, or addressed to, princes,48 a situation that has tended to make these authorities appear to be at the centre of the system.The public-centred nature of surviving sources has had an impact on the historiography, as must be considered through a fuller discussion of public versus private interests. P ubl ic ve r sus p rivate i nte re st s A gap has been highlighted between theory and practice, between, on the one hand, the emergent notion of sovereignty in which princes could freely dispose of the lives of any prisoner taken by their men and, on the other, the extensive practice of private ransoming in the Hundred Years War. This does not imply, however, that public interests, or the interests of princes, gave way completely to the private interests of their own subjects. Princely intervention in the business of prisoners of war, an object of much scholarly attention, reveals itself at different levels. The best-known form of crown intervention is probably the English system of ‘thirds’. In this, a third of the gains of war of a soldier, including booty and ransoms, was devolved to his superior, and a ‘third of the third’, or a ninth, to the king. Those indenting directly with the king simply gave a third to him. Denys Hay’s investigation of the origins and evolution of this system in the fourteenth century has been challenged by John Bean and Andrew Ayton.49 These historians show how this system of thirds 47 See note 39 and R. Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share of the Profits? The Ransoms of Agincourt’, NMS, 50 (2006), 129–50. 48 The term ‘prince’ in this work refers to sovereign authorities; they naturally involve French and English kings, but also those great French princes who claimed sovereignty, such as the dukes of Burgundy and Brittany or the count of Foix, and whom contemporaries credited with the sovereign right to wage war. See n. 46. 49 D. Hay, ‘The Division of the Spoils of War in Fourteenth-Century England’, TRHS, 5th series, 4 (1954), 91–109; see also his ‘Booty in Border Warfare’, Transactions of the Dumfriesshire and

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Introduction progressively replaced a more demanding system of halves – the superior contracting party claiming half the gains of war of his subordinate. This happened in the 1360s/1370s as compensation for the withdrawal of the restauro equorum, whereby the crown had been committed to pay for the loss of warhorses in wartime. This decrease in the royal rights on ransoms is discussed further in Chapter 4.50 I have shown elsewhere that the application of the system of thirds after Agincourt is not straightforward: the king seems to have taken less than he was expected to in different instances.51 Philippe Contamine did not observe such inconsistencies, however, in the payment of the royal portion in the counter-rolls of Norman garrisons between 1420 and 1440.52 Interestingly, the very existence of these counter-rolls, or controls which were carried out by an official of the crown, suggests that frauds must have taken place but that the authorities were not prepared to turn a blind eye to them. It is therefore hardly conceivable that this English royal right would have had any detrimental effect on private ransoming; if it had any impact, it would necessarily be beneficial. Strategic factors, on the other hand, could act as a brake on private ransoms.Today prisoners of war are expected to be placed hors de combat in a safe place until the end of the conflict. Such measures weaken the enemy and, therefore, hasten the end of the war. Ransoming of prisoners, on the other hand, inevitably contributed to its protraction.53 Contemporaries showed awareness of this issue, such as the author of the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois who quite radically advocated that prisoners should be slaughtered instead of ransomed.54 In practice, however, political bans

Galloway Natural Historian and Antiquarian Society, 3rd series, 31 (1952–3), 157–63; J. M. W. Bean, From Lord to Patron: Lordship in Late Medieval England (Manchester, 1989), pp. 238–44; A. Ayton, Knights and Warhorses: Military Service and the English Aristocracy under Edward III (Woodbridge, 1994), pp. 127–37. 50 See also R. Ambühl, ‘Reversal of Fortunes in the 1370s: The Experience of English and Gascon Prisoners of War’, in A. R. Bell, A. Curry, A. Chapman, A. King and D. Simpkin, eds., The Soldier Experience in the Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge, 2011), pp. 191–207, at p. 199. 51 Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 142–8. The royal portion was allegedly deducted from the wages of the soldiers by the end of the fourteenth century. I showed that a different practice coexisted at Agincourt. Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 757–62. 52 Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, pp. 251–5. 53 Andy King argues that few casualties in the field, short and comfortable conditions of detention and modest ransoms had become a great incentive for the gentry to go to war and to be in favour of its continuance in the Scottish marches in the fourteenth century. A. King, ‘“According to the Custom Used in French and Scottish Wars”: Prisoners and Casualties on the Scottish Marches in the Fourteenth Century’, JMH, 28 (2002), 263–90. 54 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393), S. Luce, ed. (Paris, 1862), pp. 169–70; see also about this reference, F. Bériac-Lainé and C. Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners of War: The Battle of Poitiers and Its Context’, EHR, 116 (2001), 802–34, at p. 827.

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Introduction on private ransoms, for whatever purpose, as we will see in Chapters 2 and 3, were either short-lived or contested, or both. Orders not to take prisoners until victory on the field was secured were probably the strongest and most common form of involvement. It is not, however, the most striking form of interference found in the sources. We will come back to this issue in Chapter 4. What is far better illustrated in the sources is the princely acquisition of prisoners of war in return for financial compensation to the captor. Philippe Contamine drew up a list of the motives behind these acquisitions.55 I am using this here to structure my interpretation. At the highest level, prisoners of public standing were used by princes to secure advantageous treaties of peace with their enemy. This is a well-known practice which has long been identified, and which has been illustrated in studies by Christopher Allmand on the capture of Charles, duke of Orléans, Michael Jones on that of Charles de Blois, and Françoise-Bériac Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson on that of Jean II le Bon and the prisoners of Edward III.56 In chronological order, the capture of Charles de Blois led to the treaty of Westminster (1356), that of Jean le Bon to the treaty of Calais-Brétigny (1359–60), and that of Charles d’Orléans to none, but it was not from lack of trying in 1439.57 In the same political category, princes acquired prisoners in the hope of them rallying to their cause. Freedom in return for allegiance, or the promise not to rearm against him, was the deal put into the hands of numerous Scottish and French captives who were acquired by Edward III, as shown by Françoise-Bériac Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson.58 Charles V used the same method to obtain the allegiance of some rebellious Gascon lords captured by his men.59 For strategic purposes princes obtained prisoners in order to ensure the evacuation of a place which was occupied by the enemy. This well-documented practice was commonplace in the periods of French reconquest in the 1370s and the 1450s.60 Finally, princes also acquired 55 Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, pp. 204–6. 56 C. T. Allmand, ‘The Anglo-French Negotiations, 1439’, BIHR, 40 (1967), 1–33; M. C. E. Jones, ‘The Ransom of Jean De Bretagne, Count of Penthièvre’, BIHR, 45 (1972), 7–26; see also n. 54. 57 It could also be added that Henry V used Orléans and the other prisoners of Agincourt to put pressure on Charles VI to restore the terms of the Great Peace of Brétigny/Calais (1360). After Troyes, he tried to persuade them to accept his inheritance of France, which both the duke of Bourbon and the count of Richemont agreed to do. Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, pp. 41–58; A. Curry, Agincourt: A New History (Stroud, 2005), p. 247. 58 Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, pp. 812, 29. 59 BnF, PO 2624, Sancerre, no.  28; as cited in R. Delachenal, Histoire de Charles V, 5 vols. (Paris, 1909–31), vol. v, p. 54, n. 6. (8 October 1377). 60 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26011, no. 1282 (31 April 1371); BnF, PO 2876,Trémagon, 3 (25 May 1371); Mandements et actes divers de Charles V, 1364–1380, L. Delisle, ed. (Paris, 1874), pp. 434–5, no. 846 (August 1373). Cuvelier, Chronique de Bertrand du Guesclin, E. Charrière, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1839), vol. ii, p. 311;

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Introduction prisoners in order to exchange them with one particular subject who had been captured by the enemy. These, as we will see in Chapter 3, were not the only forms of princely intervention. That the authorities were involved in the issue of prisoners of war and ransoms is an undisputable fact, but the assumption that they were at its core, that they governed this business, is, to my mind, a misconception. Looking back to his pioneering thesis Guerre, état et société à la fin du moyen âge, Philippe Contamine has reconsidered his theory that war was essentially a ‘political fact’, i.e. a fact that existed through the eyes of the state only.61 He questions whether a more anthropological approach to war – an approach focused on the experience of individuals – would be more appropriate. Should war be seen ‘from above’ or should it be examined ‘from below’? To answer this question, he investigates three individual cases ‘from below’. One of these is a ransom case, arising in a period of great instability for the French crown, between 1420 and 1450. Contamine’s logic behind this approach is that if, even at its lowest ebb, it can be proved that the French monarchy was still in command, war was essentially a political fact. This is precisely the conclusion he reached. To understand the phenomenon of war in France in the late Middle Ages, Contamine argued that it is necessary to examine it in close connection with the state; to view war from below, even if possible, is not sufficient. What is left, then, of Contamine’s ‘golden age of private ransoms’ with which he once associated the late Midde Ages?62 War may well have been a political fact as a rule, but the issue of prisoners of war and ransoms is an exception. In fact, the ransom case Contamine uses to confirm that war was a political fact deserves much closer attention. It concerns disputes over ransoms and booty at the surrender of the town of Castillon in July 1453.63 His choice of a ransom case makes sense: the allegedly wild and private business of ransoms was more likely than any other matter relating to war to lie outside the scope of political fact and justify a more anthropological approach from below. The ultimate achievement, therefore, would consist in showing that the ransom case was tightly controlled by the state or, even more, that it F. Lehoux, Jean de France, duc de Berri: sa vie, son action politique, 1340–1416, 4 vols. (Paris, 1966–8), vol. i, pp. 313–14; Letters, Orders and Musters of Bertrand du Guesclin, 1357–1380, M. C. E. Jones, ed. (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 214–15 (no. 577), p. 223 (no. 597), p. 226 (no. 608), p. 262–3 (no. 709), p. 265 (no. 715); BL, Add. Ch. 151 (9 March 1450); BnF, Coll. Clairambault, 152, no. 80 (10 January 1451); BL, Add. Ch. 152 (January 1451). 61 P. Contamine, ‘Guerre, état et société: une révision à la lumière de la crise politique et militaire dans la France du deuxième quart du XVe siècle’, in Guerra y diplomacia en la Europa occidental 1280–1480: XXI Semana de Estudios Medievales (Pamplona, 2004), pp. 117–39. 62 Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, p. 201. 63 BnF, Coll. Duchesne 108, fol. 35–46.

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Introduction existed as a result of it. This was the case for Contamine, who highlights that Charles VII had set up a commission of inquiry instructed to investigate the circumstances of the seizure. Contamine acknowledges that this episode demonstrates the persistent indiscipline of the troops when gains of war were at stake, but also claims that it shows a clear indication of crown intervention through the use of a royal commission of inquiry, as well as through the role played by the provost of the marshals in the sharing out of the profits.64 I propose a different reading of these events. The authority of the French commanders who had sealed the formal treaty of surrender with the besieged, which anticipated that the prisoners would be put at the king’s disposal, had been disregarded. The crown did not take any initiative in this affair: it merely responded to several complaints, which resulted in the formation of a commission of inquiry. One wonders what would have happened if nobody had protested. Furthermore, the aim of this commission was not to re-establish the terms of the treaty, which had been greatly advantageous to the king, but simply to arbitrate the sharing out of the profits of war. Witnesses constantly referred to their own right to a share of the prisoners, disregarding the right of the king.65 If this case proves anything, it is indeed soldiery indiscipline, but also the fierce defence of private rights to ransoms at the expense of the king.This case, I think, is a good illustration of the danger one faces when investigating what was, essentially, a private business through sources mainly emanating from centralised authorities. The primary purpose of this book is as simple as it is important: to fill the gap in the historiography left by the absence of any research monograph on prisoners of war covering a broader chronological framework such as the Hundred Years War. From the outset of my research, the accent has been placed on the exploration of mores, habits, practices, individual experiences and attitudes rather than on the more technical and legal aspects which have already attracted much scholarly attention. The relevance of this project increased as I worked on it, and as it became more obvious to me that the private nature of the matter of ransoms and prisoners of war has never been properly investigated, even though it is central to the understanding of the topic. It has all too often been simply acknowledged, taken for granted, believed to have received too much attention, or to have been credited with too much significance at the 64 Concerning the role of the provost, I believe that Contamine refers to the fifth deposition, in which witnesses claimed that they had been sent to the provost of the marshals ‘pour avoir leur part des prisonniers’. BnF, Coll. Duchesne 108, fol. 37vo. 65 BnF, Coll. Duchesne 108, fol. 37vo, 38ro, 39ro.

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Introduction expense of political interference. This lack of an in-depth study of the private nature of the business of ransoms and prisoners of war, and an overemphasis on political interference, can eventually lead one to believe that ransoms were a ‘political fact’. It is the need to reconstruct the private world of captors and prisoners in the Hundred Years War that has given this book its main thesis, cohesion and structure. My general approach is, to use Contamine’s terminology, more anthropological than political; facts are observed from below, from the perspective of individual captors and prisoners. The beneficial results of this approach are already apparent in Chapter 1, which challenges the alleged prevalence of the law of arms in matters relating to war, by revealing, on the basis of individual experiences drawn from a large variety of sources, a complex body of different laws, rules and values that dictate captors’ and prisoners’ behaviour. Politics are not, however, excluded from this work. Ignoring political interference would be as great a mistake as reducing the private nature of this business to silence. These interventions from above are the focus of Chapters 2 and 3.Their existence is well known, as is the form they might take, and the motives of the authorities in making them. What is lacking is a more contextual appraisal of their weight and impact on the issues of ransom and prisoners of war. These two chapters therefore analyse situations in which public and private interests clashed, or might clash, through situations in which royal orders are obeyed and others in which they are contested. Chapter 2 compares attitudes of different French and English rulers towards the acquisition of prisoners of war throughout the war, while Chapter 3 is a case study set in the context of the English occupation of Normandy in the first half of the fifteenth century which explores the impact of the particular circumstances of English rule, especially in the wake of Henry V’s claims and the treaty of Troyes, on the status of prisoners of war. Together, the first three chapters set the framework in which the ransoming of prisoners of war and its alternatives unfolded, developed and were brought to fruition. Chapters 4 to 6 form a sequence that proposes a detailed analysis of the key steps in the process of ransoming, from capture to ransom. The image which naturally comes to mind is that of a badly treated prisoner shackled in a dungeon. There is nothing, or almost nothing, of this in these chapters. Not that it is a misconception. Ill-treatment of prisoners of war, in some instances, is a reality (as we see in Chapter 1), but the point of view adopted in these chapters is practical. How can a man such as the previously mentioned Jean Rousselet have been taken prisoner fourteen times during his career? Under what circumstances were prisoners taken? Who were the captors and who became the masters? Who kept the prisoners and where? These are the 17

Introduction main questions addressed in Chapter 4. Chapter 5 is focused on the value of ransoms and the price for freedom. Some questions here are theoretical. Can we build a scale of ransoms in the Hundred Years War? Can we talk about a market of ransoms? There are also practical matters, such as how the value of a ransom was established in each case and how a bankrupt prisoner was treated. Finally, Chapter 6 explores financial and economic issues, previously overlooked, in the raising of funds, such as exchange and transfer of money and trade. The point of view in this chapter, and for the remainder of the book, therefore shifts from the master to the prisoner. The problem raised by the over-representation of ‘state-centred’ sources and, conversely, the lack of private archives, is more prominent in the last three chapters (Chapters 7 to 9), which are all devoted to assistance given to prisoners of war. Chapter 7 investigates the survival of customary aids in France, which anticipated that the vassals and subjects of a lord were supposed to contribute to the ransom of their lord. Sources are particularly scarce. The reflection is, in fact, mainly based on a single court case. The development of royal taxation which interfered with the raising of customary aids is, on the other hand, far better illustrated. Princely grants to prisoners of war, and more particularly financial grants, are by far the most common sort of archival sources available for the study of prisoners of war in the Hundred Years War.Yet it is not surprising to learn that the main and only support for the great majority of prisoners was their close friends and relatives (even if some lucky ones counted the prince among their close connections). This abundance of sources on princely assistance is used in Chapter 8 to provide an in-depth investigation of this channel of assistance, a topic which has surprisingly been overlooked. Finally, Chapter 9 groups all the other helpers or potential helpers around the prisoner: fellowsin-arms, friends and relatives, all the men and women without whose support many a prisoner would have remained in prison. Their crucial role is yet to be explored. By examining as wide a range of aspects as possible, and by drawing on a large variety of examples and methods of investigations, it is hoped to shed full light on the ransom culture in the Hundred Years War.

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Chapter 1

L aw, ransom and the status o f t h e pr is one r o f war

What was the status of the prisoner of war during the Hundred Years War? In other words, what were the rights and responsibilities of the soldiers who fell into the hands of the enemy? There was nothing like the Geneva Convention in the Middle Ages; in fact, there was not even a written compilation of the laws of war in that period. Thankfully the sources do not leave us completely in the dark. As we have seen, the term ‘prisoner of war’ (in French and Latin) made its first appearance in the 1420s; it indicated that a soldier who fell into the hands of the enemy would have his life spared and could expect to regain his freedom through the payment of a ransom. Any further attempt at refining the definition of this status must be focused on the captor who enjoyed the status of ‘master’ upon taking the oath of his prisoner.This term is used in virtually all the different kinds of sources during the Hundred Years War. It surely highlights the submissive nature of the status of prisoner of war. In passing, it is interesting to note that ‘master’ was also used to indicate the relationship between a captain or man-at-arms and the varlets in his company;1 or a prince who assisted a prisoner.2 Although by no means equivalent to the bonds of serfdom, the prisoner was not free and owed obedience to his master. Maurice Keen compared it with a ‘chivalrous bond’ since ‘the bond could only be established within the chivalrous business of war, and was guaranteed by an oath, breach of which was treason to the chivalric code of honour’.3 Once the ransom was agreed 1 The varlet or valet belongs to the French military vocabulary.This term indicated a lesser infantryman. N. A. R.Wright, ‘“Pillagers” and “Brigands” in the Hundred Years War’, JMH, 9 (1983), 15–24, at p. 17; ‘Ransoms of Non-Combatants’, 323–32, at p. 329; Knights and Peasants, pp. 48, 72–3. 2 AN, X1a 9199, fol. 335rv (December 1430); J. Régnier, Les Fortunes et adversitez, E. Droz, ed. (Paris, 1923), pp. 166–7. 3 KLW, p. 164. Pierre-Clément-Timbal compares the right of the masters over his prisoner to a ‘droit de gage’ (security right), which would become a creditor right once the master had quit the prisoner’s faith. Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 306–7.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war the master was expected to release the prisoner’s faith and thus became a mere creditor. Maurice Keen, following Pierre-Clément Timbal, unearthed many rules associated with masters, prisoners and ransoms from a study of the legal records of the supreme court of France, the Parlement of Paris and of the English courts of chancery records as well as from chivalric and legal treatises. It is striking to note, in these studies, how the status of prisoner of war is intimately connected with the laws of ransom: from this legal perspective the two almost seem to merge.This further highlights the significance of ransoming practice in the Hundred Years War. Although the works of Keen and Timbal were based on impressive research, the theoretical analysis of the different rules, as outlined by them, is not entirely satisfactory. Why were some rules better observed than others (the share of the spoils of war, for instance, by contrast with the good treatment of prisoners of war)? And how can we explain the many infringements of the rules that can be seen from the documents? Maurice Keen avoids this question in the conclusion of his chapter on the law of ransom: ‘the very fact that men bothered to find ruses to circumvent it [the law of arms] shows that they had a certain respect for the law, and recognised the usefulness of its regulation of their military commerce.’4 Yet too many violations of a rule ultimately question its validity. Identifying rules is important, but assessing the extent of their application is equally, or arguably even more, significant. This chapter reviews the legal world of masters and prisoners of war from a more practical perspective based on the soldier’s experience and drawn from a wider variety of sources. There are two main topics to be addressed. First, we must identify what rules there were on ransoms and on the status of prisoners who were captured during the conflict. Second, we must assess how widely accepted and how well observed they were by soldiers. Five categories have been identified as combining to shape the law of ransom and the status of prisoners of war during the Hundred Years War: (1) the law of arms; (2) royal ordinances of war; (3) honour; (4) the law of contracts; (5) the law of retaliation. To these we can add (6) the influential factor of money. Each will be discussed in turn with reference to both content and extent. T he law of arm s Keen argued that a compilation of the law of arms governing matters relating to war did exist. In his opinion, Bovet’s The Tree of Battles was a

  KLW, pp. 184–5.

4

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The law of arms practical handbook used by both lawyers and soldiers, the latter through the mediation of heralds who were expert in military affairs.5 Keen’s contention, however, has been convincingly rejected by Nicholas Wright.6 Take, for example, one article in The Tree of Battles. ‘Should mercy be granted to the duke of the battle in the event of his capture?’ Bovet asked.7 His answer is intrinsically contradictory. According to civil law, Bovet argues, ‘he who is taken in battle is serf of him who takes him.’ Bovet deduces from this principle that, in theory, the master can therefore work his will on his captive.Yet he also draws attention to a decretal (i.e. papal decree) that requires mercy be shown to the prisoner. In Bovet’s opinion, the principle of mercy is a good one which should be followed unless ‘by his deliverance [of the prisoner] there is danger of having greater wars’. Betraying a degree of uncertainty, Bovet eventually concludes this debate by invoking once more the argument of civil law that ‘he who takes him can work his will on him’. This is far from the unequivocal statement one would expect in a practical handbook. Behind the contradictions found in Bovet’s work lies a conflict between public order and private interest, between, for instance, the right of the lord to dispose of all the prisoners captured by the soldiers in his pay and the rights of these soldiers to private ransoms.8 Bovet clearly inclined towards a stronger control of the state over the business of war. He considered the current state of affairs to be intolerable since it had been corrupted by the greed of the soldiery. ‘If in war many evil things are done’, he claimed, ‘they never come from the nature of war but from false usage.’9 He also complained that soldiers took from their prisoners, or caused them to pay, excessive ransoms without pity or mercy.10 Nicholas Wright is correct, therefore, to interpret The Tree of Battles not as a codification of military practice but as a programme of reform.11 Historians are unanimous on the significance of the law of arms in matters relating to war. Where Keen departs from other scholars is on the nature of this law. For him, it was a compound of Roman law and customary usages, much as one finds in Bovet’s The Tree of Battles. Yet in reality these seem to have been two very different sets of laws, more   KLW, pp. 7–22. Wright, ‘The Tree of Battles of Honoré Bovet’, in Allmand, ed., War, Literature and Politics in the Late Middle Ages, pp. 12–31.  7 Bovet, The Tree, p. 134.  8 This point is highlighted in F. Bériac-Lainé, ‘Les Prisonniers en Europe occidentale (XIVe et XVe siècles): massacre, échange ou rançon’, in S. Caucanas, R. Cazals and P. Payen, eds., Contacts entre peuples et cultures: les prisonniers de guerre dans l’histoire (Toulouse, 2003), pp. 107–23, at p. 116.  9 Bovet, The Tree, p. 125.  10  Bovet, The Tree, p. 153. 11 Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 31.  5  6

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war often at odds with each other than acting in unison or even being complementary.12 The law of arms – ius armorum, in Latin, or droit des armes in French – was admittedly founded in custom.13 Indeed, ius armorum is often juxtaposed in the sources with consuetudo (custom) and usus armorum (usage of arms), such as in these examples drawn from the registers of the Parlement of Paris: ‘de … jure armorum usu et consuetudine in facto guerre’ (by … the law of arms, usage and custom in fact of war), ‘secundum jus et usum armorum’ (according to the law and usage of arms), or ‘contra jura ac usum armorum’ (against laws and usage of arms).14 In this respect the medieval habit of multiplying words – such as ius, consuetudo and usus armorum – for the same notion (‘the law of arms’) was a deliberate attempt towards refinement or precision.15 Geoffroy de Charny’s work, Les Demandes pour la jouste, la tournoi et la guerre, provides further evidence of the customary nature of the law of arms.16 This French knight had been admitted to John II’s Order of the Star in 1352. Shortly afterwards he submitted a list of questions to his fellow members, most of which concern the business of war. All end with a question: ‘How will it be judged by the law of arms?’, or alternatively, ‘What do you think? How will men-at-arms judge this?’ As Wright judiciously remarked, ‘Charny’s use of these phrases as if they were interchangeable, and the fact that Les demandes were addressed to other knights rather than lawyers and clerks, suggest that the law of arms was a matter of military custom and usage.’17 By definition, medieval customs were not immutable. They evolved according to the needs of the community. In so far as the law of arms was concerned, this was the military community. This flexibility and assimilative nature of the customs may explain the source of confusion, however, since they interacted with other laws in the late Middle Ages, such 12 For the opposition between Roman law and the law of arms, see also the remarks of S. Bastid, ‘Le Droit de la guerre dans des documents judiciaires français du XIVe siècle’, Annuaire Français de Droit International, 8 (1962), 181–91, at p. 186. 13 Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, pp. 23–4; Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 269 (mainly drawing on Timbal); Bastid, ‘Le Droit de la guerre’, p. 186; (essentially drawing on Keen); Draper, ‘The Law of Ransom’, p. 268; Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 31; T. Meron, Henry’s Wars and Shakespeare’s Laws: Perspectives on the Law of War in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford, 1993), p. 9. 14 AN, X1a 21 fol. 73 (1363), cited by KLW, p. 159; AN, X1a 22 fol. 259 (9 August 1371); AN, X1a 9182, fol. 191v (27 September 1376); cited by Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 323, 367. 15 On these elements of terminology, see N. Nabert, Les Réseaux d’alliance en diplomatie aux XIVe et XVe siècles: étude de sémantique (Paris, 1999), pp. 56–7; E. Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel: les serviteurs des ducs d’Orléans au XVe siècle (Paris, 2004), p. 57. 16 I have consulted the Brussels manuscript, KBR, Ms. 11125. For a transcription and introduction of it, see G. de Charny, ‘Les Demandes pour la jouste, le tournoi et la guerre’, J. Rossbach, ed., unpublished BA dissertation (Université Libre de Bruxelles, 1962). 17 Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 20.

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The law of arms as the re-emergent Roman law. Therefore we cannot simply draw a line between the law of arms and Roman law. We will see shortly how the law of arms also intertwined with royal disciplinary ordinances and with the law of contract.18 What did the law of arms say about prisoners of war? Even though there was no written compilation of this law, references to it are plentiful in the sources, not only in legal cases – where it was argued, compared and debated with other laws – but also in so-called chivalric treatises and chronicles. A complete survey and analysis of the principles of the law of arms which could be gleaned from these sources has yet to be carried out: it would be a huge task. But let us focus here solely on identifying the nature and extent of the rules that concerned prisoners of war. Examples of the principles of the law of arms invoked in the supreme court of France, the Parlement of Paris, are particularly interesting. Here follows a sample, some cases of which will be discussed more fully in later chapters.19 Only after the captor had taken the word of honour of his prisoner could he consider the latter as his rightful prisoner of war.20 The captor could therefore lose his prisoner if another soldier had taken this word from the prisoner before him. A rule anticipated that any captor was free to sell or cede his property rights over his prisoner to whoever he wanted but, according to another usage, he could not sell his captive without the consent of his captain.21 The situation was different for a varlet armed Historians of law usually make a distinction between customs and usages. ‘Coutume est droit, mais usage est fait’, wrote Claude Liger in his Coustumes d’Anjou et du Maine (second half of the fifteenth century). In this logic, usages precede the custom: they spring from the repetition of acts or behaviour in a community and may become custom when such acts or behaviour were felt by the community to be obligatory. The passage from usage to custom, if it happens, will take a relatively long time, depending on frequency. A highly frequent usage can quickly become a custom in a short period of time. André Gouron notes, however, that the limit between usage and custom remains changing and uncertain. See J. Gilissen, La Coutume (Turnhout, 1982), pp. 24–9; A. Gouron, ‘La Coutume en France au moyen âge’, Recueils de la Société Jean Bodin pour l’histoire comparative des institutions, 52 (1990), 193–217, at pp. 196–7. Regarding the law of arms, it is interesting to note that the author of Le Jouvencel – who intended to instruct the young gentlemen who devoted themselves to soldiering – almost exclusively referred to the usages of arms when clarifying a question of law concerning prisoners and ransoms. Le Jouvencel, C. Favre and L. Lecestre, eds. 2 vols. (Paris, 1887–9), vol. i, pp. 2, 9, 11, 13, 91, 215. There is one reference in the work to ‘les droit ancien des armes’ (Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 213). These usages, as they appear in this work, were clearly obligatory nonetheless. Might this be considered a sign that the law of arms was quickly evolving in the context of ‘permanent war’ during the Hundred Years War? In any case, on the basis of this observation, I have decided not to draw particular attention to the difference between customs and usages in the framework of this study. 19 See Chapter 4. 20 AN, X1a 9193, fol 156v (4 August 1436). 21 AN, X1a 9193, fol 157r (4 August 1436); Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 214. We also read in an indenture of the English garrison of the Norman town of Carentan in October 1429 that garrison troops 18

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war by his master: the soldier’s prisoners automatically belonged to the master.22 This compares closely with Bovet’s recommendation that prisoners ‘should be the lord’s in whose pay the soldier is’.23 Once the master had lost his property right over the prisoner and became his mere creditor, the prisoner could legitimately be captured by another man if, for instance, the prisoner infringed the terms of his safe-conduct.24 The legal case arising from the ransom of Olivier du Guesclin in 1381 illustrates well how specialised these rules could be.25 It was argued in this case that, according to the law of arms, those to whom the prisoner belonged had the right to ransom him without reference to the claimants of the fifth part of the ransom called les marz;26 such claimants had no rights to interfere. It was also claimed that, by the law of arms, the joint owners of a prisoner had no right to put him in anyone else’s keeping without the consent of his ‘co-parcener’ (partner). This list of rules could certainly be expanded, but this would not undermine the point emerging from it: the law of arms, as debated in court, concerned mainly the capture and the ownership of prisoners of war as well as the sharing of the ransom among the various claimants. This marked pragmatism and focus on the captors’ rights is strongly reflected in Geoffroy de Charny’s Les Demandes where a third of the questions were technical ones regarding ransoms and booty.27 The same remark applies to the semi-biographical life of the French captain Jean de Bueil, entitled Le Jouvencel.28 This didactical story written in the 1460s compiles and discusses many such rules in use, but never fails, at the same time, to promote the common good.29 were not allowed to sell prisoners to a third party without their captain’s licence. This was then a new clause, which Anne Curry suggests ‘may have been introduced at the complaint of captains who were concerned that they were losing their share of ransoms by concealment of prisoners taken by their men’. BnF, Ms. Fr. 26053, no. 1442; analysed in A. Curry, ‘Military Organisation in Lancastrian Normandy, 1422–1450’, 2 vols., unpublished Ph.D. thesis (Teeside Polytechnic, 1985), vol. i, p. 245. This may indicate that this rule was recent. 22 AN, X1a 9199, fol. 335rv (December 1430). 23 Bovet, The Tree, p. 134. 24 AN, X1a 21, fol.108; cited by Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 315–17 (23 February 1367); AN, X2a 20, fol. 72r (21 July 1434). 25 Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls of the City of London, ad 1364–1381, A. H. Thomas, ed. (Cambridge, 1929), pp. 297–300; C. Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier Du Guesclin’, BIHR, 54 (1981), 17–28, at p. 23. 26 On the practice of les marz, See pp. 141–5. 27 On Charny, see Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 20. 28 Questions about captures, ransoms and booty are to be found in great numbers in Le Jouvencel, vol. i, pp. 65, 71–7, 93–4, 222–5; vol. ii, pp. 8–14, 17, 86–8, 90, 93–8, 104–6, 125–6, 129–30, 133–4, 212–19. 29 The text is discussed by C. T. Allmand,‘Entre honneur et bien commun: le témoignage du Jouvencel au XVe siècle’, Revue Historique, 301 (1999), 463–81.

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The law of arms There is, however, a more humane face to the law of arms, which is conveyed in chivalric chronicles such as those of Jean Froissart. John Chandos, for example, was left to die from his wounds after his capture at Lussac (1369). This, for the chronicler, was ill done, for it is an improper thing ‘de traittier nul prisonnier autrement que droit d’armes ne requiert’ (to treat any prisoner other than as the law of arms requires).30 At the sack of Limoges (1370) the defeated French knights made the following request to the duke of Lancaster: ‘signeur, nous sommes vostres et nous avés conquis: si ouvrés de nous au droit d’armes’ (lord, we are yours, you have conquered us: so, treat us according to the law of arms).31 At the surrender of the castle of Montpont (1371), it was decided that the surrendering Bretons would be put to ‘courtoise raenchon’ (courteous ransom), after their plea to be treated ‘justement au droit d’armes, enssi que chevalier et escuier doient faire l’un l’autre’ (rightly according to the law of arms, so as knight and esquire are expected to do with each other).32 Following his capture in 1372, the captal de Buch claimed to his visitors in prison that, in denying him the right to be ransomed, ‘on ne li faisoit mies le droit d’armes’ (he was not treated according to the law of arms).33 Only rarely, however, do we find an argument of ill-treatment or cruelty, as opposed to the diktats of the law of arms, debated in court. Such an argument was put forward by the second captors of the English knight, Simon Burley, who had escaped from the prison of Lady Dampierre, in the early 1370s.34 It was a way for these captors to justify Burley’s escape and thereby to give legal grounds for their claim to the ownership of the prisoner. The judges, however, rejected this and asked for the immediate restitution of the prisoner. Towards the end of the war the Parlement of Paris heard the horrific plea of the French knight Henri Gencian who claimed to have endured many humiliations and tortures in the hands of François de la Palu, lord of Varambon, during ten months of captivity.35 He had some teeth knocked out and his nose pierced like a bull; he was regularly beaten, on one occasion hanged by the feet and on another put naked in a pit full of snakes. Gencian sought redress for all the ‘tyrannies’ he had suffered and asked for reimbursement of all the sums that had been extorted from him on the grounds that even his capture was not Froissart, KL, vol. vii, p. 459, n. 1; see also Wright, ‘The Tree’, pp. 19–20. 31 Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, p. 252; see also Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 19. 32 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 267. 33 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 239. 34 Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 328. 35 AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190rv (28 April 1440). This case has often been quoted to highlight barbarous behaviour towards prisoners. See, for instance, KLW, pp. 113, 180. 30

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war legitimate. Nowhere in this plea was the law of arms invoked, but it can be assumed that it lay implicitly beneath Gencian’s demand for compensation for the bad treatment he had suffered. Sparing the life of prisoners of war ‘among Christians great and small’ was also an integral part of the law of arms, but is another aspect of the relationship between masters and prisoners which is conspicuous by its absence in court records.36 Executions of legitimate prisoners of war were debated in court, but it was only in terms of financial compensation for the captors who had lost potential profits.37 I can cite only one case debating the unlawful execution of a prisoner of war. It is significant that this case was against Joan of Arc in 1430. The Maid of Orléans was accused, among other charges, of having unjustly killed Franquet d’Arras, a noble man-at-arms in the pay of the duke of Burgundy.38 This had less to do with the life of Arras than that of Joan of Arc herself. It would indeed be naïve to consider this charge as anything other than the interrogators’ eagerness to justify Joan’s execution. It would also be naïve to assume that if the illegal killing of prisoners was never raised in a court of law, it was simply because the principle of law that protected their life was always observed. Subsequent discussion will show that it was not. Two different ‘faces’ of the law of arms emerge. First, there are the coldly pragmatic principles whose main purpose was to ensure the right share of the profits of war to the right person. The whole military community was concerned with such principles. Since the non-noble element formed a large proportion of the armies, growing in size over the course of the war, the law of arms from this perspective cannot be seen solely as a code for the knightly class as is generally assumed.39 The failure to observe these principles of the law of arms could give rise to legal disputes debated before various French and English courts when matters were not settled by the captain of a company or the commander of a host in the first place. In England there was the court of chivalry presided over Bovet, The Tree, pp. 152–3. 37 See, for instance, AN, X1c 15, no. 268 (18 December 1365); X1a 4801, fol. 398v–399 (26 February 1448). 38 Procès et condamnation de Jeanne d’Arc, P. Champion, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1920–1), vol. ii, pp. 126–8 (14 March 1430). That Franquet d’Arras was a real man is attested by the Maid herself who did not deny his execution. There is evidence of him in a Burgundian host that besieged Neufchâtel-sur-Aisne at the beginning of 1417. See ‘Le Livre des trahisons de France’, in J.-B.-M. C. Kervyn de Lettenhove, ed., Chroniques relatives à l’histoire de la Belgique sous la domination des ducs de Bourgogne, vol. ii: Textes français (Brussels, 1873), pp. 1–258, at p. 131. Enguerran de Monstrelet wrote that after his death Franquet d’Arras ‘fut plaint de ceulx de son party, pour tant qu’en armes il estoit homme de vaillant conduicte’. E. de Monstrelet, Chronique, L. Douët-D’Arcq, ed., 6 vols. (Paris, 1857–62), vol. iv, p. 382. 39 All the studies cited in n.  13, without exception, consider the law of arms as a knightly code only. 36

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The law of arms by the Lord High Constable and the Earl Marshal. Its French equivalent was the court of the Constable and Marshal of France, with the opportunity to appeal to the Parlement of Paris.40 What was at stake in these trials was not honour but money; rules were observed, as Wright noted,‘from a desire not to be excluded from a share in the profits of war’.41 The law of arms was less ‘a moral barrier to the growing hold of money’ (according to Pierre-Clément Timbal) than, in Denys Hay’s words, ‘rapacity working through well organised channels’.42 Second, there were the more compassionate principles concerning the relationship between masters and prisoners which we find in chronicles and treatises but which were only rarely sanctioned by regular justice. This second ‘face’ of the law of arms fits well with the idea of a code of honour for the knightly class.43 How should this disparity within the law of arms be interpreted? The simplest solution would be to dismiss the compassionate aspect as an echo of a former golden age of chivalry or as a delusion on the part of the aristocratic class. After all, it has often been argued that chroniclers such as Froissart tended to show the knightly world ‘as it saw itself: not as it was, but as it would like to have been’.44 The reality may have been more complex. Over-representation of court cases concerning rival claims to prisoners or disputes over the share of the spoils of war arguably resulted from jurisdiction and access to justice. If French and English military tribunals claimed cognisance of offences committed by soldiers on both sides, it is clear that their jurisdiction over their own subjects was even more firmly rooted.45 Problems of ownership and rights to shares concerned soldiers on the same side, while problems relating to ill-treatment and unjust killing involved both French and English subjects. In this context it must be noted that it was not the English captive Simon Burley who brought the issue of bad conditions of imprisonment to the Parlement of Paris but his new masters, following his escape. This case involved two parties of the same side.This was also true for the cases of Gencian and Varambon. At the time of his capture in Trévoux in 1432, 40 The question of jurisdiction and courts is discussed at length by KLW, chap. 3, and in M. Keen, ‘The Jurisdiction and Origins of the Constable’s Court’, in J. Gillingham and J. C. Holt, eds., War and Government in the Middle Ages: Essays in Honour of J. O. Prestwich (Woodbridge, 1984), pp. 159– 69; reprinted in his Nobles, Knights, and Men-at-Arms in the Middle Ages (London, 1996), pp. 135–48. See also G. F. Squibb, The High Court of Chivalry: A Study of the Civil Law in England (Oxford, 1959); A. Rogers, ‘Hoton versus Shakell: A Ransom Case in the Court of Chivalry, 1390–5’, NMS, 6 (1962), 74–108, and 7 (1963), 53–78. 41 Wright, ‘The Tree’, p. 21. 42 Hay, ‘The Division of the Spoils’, p. 94; Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 269. 43 Meron, Henry’s Wars, p. 7. 44 R. Barber, Edward, Prince of Wales and Aquitaine: A Biography of the Black Prince (London, 1978), p. 243. On this warning, see also Strickland, War and Chivalry, p. 32. 45 See the discussion around the ‘Authority of Military Courts’ in KLW, pp. 45–59.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war Gencian was fighting for the French king and his captor for the duke of Burgundy.46 The case was brought before the Parlement of Paris eight years later in 1440. In the meantime, the treaty of Arras had reconciled the Burgundians to the French cause. In terms of accessibility, it is, as one might expect, extremely difficult for a prisoner to defend a case and find witnesses and evidence in enemy territory. The second possible explanation for the disparity is cultural and more theoretical. It supposes that an increasingly materialistic attitude to warfare, the rising numbers of non-noble combatants in armies, and the growing incidence of conflict prompted the need to make the rules more specific. They also provided incentives to develop the legal system (the English court of chivalry, for instance, was created or, at the very least, rose to new prominence in the 1340s) and to adopt penalties (monetary losses replacing the prospect of dishonour) in order to keep discipline within the ranks and to avoid the diminution of military strength.47 None of these arguments is mutually exclusive. It is likely that all contributed to shaping the law of arms in the late Middle Ages. It is clear, however, that the relationship between masters and prisoners, a topic which is of particular interest in this current study, was not a primary concern of the law of arms; at best, this law reduced it to a question of knightly honour. The impact of honour on the status of the prisoner of war should certainly not be underestimated, as will be explored more fully later in this chapter, but it is only one among several other sets of rules that regulated the relationship between masters and prisoners. R oyal ordinance s of war The legal basis of prisoner-taking and the division of the spoils of war cannot be properly explored without reference to the ordinances of war issued by the monarchs of the period of the Hundred Years War. Their importance is made clear in Le Jouvencel. The author recommended that any newcomer to the military profession should enquire about the ordinances of war and usages – understand here the law of arms – in order to avoid breaching rules inadvertently and losing rights over a legitimate prisoner of war.48 We see in this advice further evidence of the prevailing desire to establish rights in spoils of war over more humane Varambon’s sack of Trévoux was a vendetta against the duke of Bourbon. See J. Quichérat, Rodrigue de Villandrando, l’un des combattants pour l’indépendance française au quinzième siècle (Paris, 1879), p. 60; A. Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart et François Surienne, agents de l’Angleterre (Paris, 1936), p. 139. 47 On the origins of the court of chivalry, see Squibb, The High Court, pp.  1–28; Keen, ‘The Jurisdiction’, pp. 146–8. 48 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, pp. 8–14. 46

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Royal ordinances of war considerations. This is not surprising since the main purpose of ordinances of war was to keep order and unity within the ranks of the armies. They were primarily concerned with controlling the natural greed of the soldiery.49 In theory, the main difference between the body of customs that formed the law of arms and the rules set by royal ordinances of war was one of reach. Unlike the law of arms, which had an international remit, royal ordinances only bound the subjects of the sovereign who issued them. In practice, however, the distinction was not as clear-cut. English kings regularly issued ordinances of war within the context of particular campaigns.50 They were proclaimed publicly to the host, either in French or English. Sometimes they were cried out just before the action. Copies of the ordinances were in the hands of the captains of the host. There was an established core of disciplinary ordinances; some clauses were added, removed or slightly modified as deemed appropriate.51 This remark applies not only to English ordinances in the reigns of Richard II and Henry V but also to the surviving Franco-Scottish ordinances of 1385, which points to some form of internationality of these rules.52 Anne Curry observed that some clauses were less contextual and more international than others; interestingly, the rules relating to prisoner-taking were among the latter.53 Not surprisingly, parallels can be drawn between these international clauses of the ordinances of war and principles of the law of arms, as we find them discussed in Charny’s Les Demandes or in Le Jouvencel: these concern pledge-taking,54 the guarding of prisoners,55 and the ban on killing one’s prisoner.56 The assimilation of Ordinances of war have received close attention in recent years. Since the article of Maurice Keen on ‘Richard II’s Ordinances of War of 1385’, in R. E. Archer and S. Walker, eds., Rulers and Ruled in Late Medieval England: Essays Presented to Gerald Harriss (London, 1995), pp. 33–48, Anne Curry has carried out an in-depth comparative analysis of surviving sets of ordinances, which she has republished, providing a welcome update to the Black Book of the Admiralty, T. Twiss, ed., 4 vols. (London, 1871–6), vol. i, pp. 453–72, and translated in ‘The Military Ordinances of Henry V: Texts and Contexts’, in C. Given-Wilson, A. Kettle and L. Scales, eds., War, Government and Aristocracy in the British Isles, c. 1150–1500: Essays in Honour of Michael Prestwich (Woodbridge, 2008), pp. 364–88 and ‘Disciplinary Ordinances for English and Franco-Scottish Armies in 1385: An International Code?’, JMH, 37 (2011), 269–94. The need to keep unity within the English and Scottish armies as a motive for the issue of these ordinances is developed in this last article. 50 These introductory remarks are mainly drawn from Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 324. 51 Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 330. 52 This argument is expressed in Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, pp. 284–6; see also Keen, ‘Richard II’, p. 47. 53 Keen, ‘Richard II’, p. 285. 54 Durham, item 12; Mantes, item 14 (Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, pp. 242); KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 70v, 76rv. 55 Durham, items 19, 22; Mantes, items 7, 20 (Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, pp.  244–6); KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 70v, 76rv, 79r; Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 95. 56 Durham, item 13; Mantes, item 15 (Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, pp.  242–3); KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 78r; Le Jouvencel, vol. i, p. 222. 49

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war the customs (or the law of arms) is, in fact, clearly stated at the beginning of the Durham ordinances issued by Richard II in 1385: ‘ceux sont les estatutz, ordenances et custumes a tenir en lost ordenez et faitz par bon avisement et deliberacion de nostre tres excellent soverain seignur le roy Richard’ (these are the statutes, ordinances and customs to be kept in the host, ordained and made by the good advice and deliberation of our most excellent sovereign lord King Richard).57 As Maurice Keen puts it, these ordinances of war are ‘simply codifying conventions well-acknowledged among belligerents of all parties in the wars of the period.The object was not to introduce new rules but to ensure there was no quibbling over the niceties of old and established martial customs.’58 Ordinances of war and the law of arms were not an exact match on all clauses regarding prisoners of war. First, some measures were nationally specific, such as the division of the spoils of war between soldiers, captains and their king, which differed from one kingdom to another.59 English kings were entitled to a third of the profits of their captains and a third of a third of their captain’s men.60 Second, different procedures specifically aimed at the safety of the host were not drawn from custom but may have inspired it. The Durham ordinances anticipated, for instance, that any soldier should take his prisoner as soon as possible to his captain: the captain was bound to bring him before the superior commanders, so that he could be properly interrogated. This motive of interrogation does not appear in the Mantes ordinances of HenryV, however.61 In all versions, soldiers were not entitled to allow their prisoners to go home to raise their ransom except with the leave and under the safe-conduct of the king, or of his constable or marshal.62 Through these measures the English king retained the right to interfere in the ­process of ransoming. At the outset, the prisoner had to be presented to the king. Towards the end of the process, the king had another opportunity to intervene, as he, together with the constable and the marshal, was the only authority who could deliver safe-conducts to prisoners. Beyond the obvious security reasons for these measures, there is good reason to believe that their ­additional purpose was to ensure that the crown would get its share in the spoils of war, and that ‘political’ ­prisoners – princes

57 Original and translation in Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, pp. 287, 289. 58 Keen, ‘Richard II’s Ordinances’, p. 47. 59 Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, pp. 214–18. 60 Durham, item 19; Mantes, item 20; Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 244. On the evolution of this share from a half to a third of the profits, see p. 100. 61 Durham, item 19; Mantes, item 20; Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 244. 62 Durham, item 21; Mantes, item 22; Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 245.

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Honour of the blood, high officers, traitors or brigands – would not slip through their hands.63 From the soldier’s point of view, the distinction between the law of arms and the disciplinary ordinances was probably less obvious than it is for us now, as the following court case shows. In 1417, Scottish soldiers, whose ownership of an English prisoner was challenged, argued in the Parlement of Paris that every enemy prisoner belonged to those who took him.64 The only exception they conceded involved prisoners who had been captured on the walls of an enclosed town. Such prisoners should be surrendered to the king, but this was seemingly not relevant in the case of their prisoner. The Scottish soldiers invoked prior jurisprudence to support their argument, claiming that several cases involving English prisoners captured at Amiens and Paris had previously been settled according to this rule. They also highlighted that such was the usage or custom in Calais, England and their neighbouring marches. Opposing their position, the general attorney claimed that, according to the law of arms, every prisoner captured in an enclosed town, whether captured on the walls or not, should be delivered to the king, since it was in the latter’s interest that every potential spy be thoroughly examined by his officers. The Scottish soldiers rejected this argument: if such a usage existed, they claimed that it would bind only the subjects of the French crown. Such usages, which involved the safety of towns and had a limited geographical scope inside the borders of a kingdom, have all the characteristics of royal ordinances of war. The debate between the Scottish captors and the general attorney seems to have resulted from the confusion between the law of arms and the ordinances of war. This is easily understandable. Provided that the hierarchy duly enforced royal ordinances of war, there is good reason to believe that some orders eventually became simply further customs in the eyes of the warrior community. Honour The only signs of legal interference in the relationship between masters and prisoners evoked so far are situated within the scope of what has been roughly identified as ‘knightly honour’. There is much more, however, to honour. This value was at the heart of the medieval mentality, and its impact on the status of prisoner of war is more complex than any compassionate ideal conveyed by chivalric literature.The phrase ‘knightly honour’ is not in itself incorrect. Honour was firmly attached to, or we

 Political interference will be discussed in the next two chapters. AN, X1a 4791, fol. 210rv (18 March 1417).

63 64

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war could even say appropriated by, the nobility in the late Middle Ages: honour equalled status equalled nobility, or, in other words, a noble or knight was honourable because of his very status of noble or knight; reputation had nothing to do with it.65 Yet, as we will see, any attack on the noble’s fama or reputation called for reparations. The issue of prisoners makes no exception to this rule. Thirty noble prisoners of Robert de Sarrebruch, damoiseau de Commercy, for example, swore on ‘the honour of their nobility’ in 1419, that they would not fight against their master until they had paid the full amount of their ransom.66 Similarly, John Steward, son of John Steward, also called Scot-Angle, gave his ‘word as a knight’ that he would deliver the various sums agreed with his master, Jacques de Dinan, lord of Montafilant, for the payment of his own ransom and that of his son Thomas, in February 1442.67 If the equation between honour and knight is not clearly established in this last example, it brings evidence, nevertheless, of the greater value attributed to the oath of a knight. The word of a noble, in general, was given more credit, or, as in the following ­passage of Le Jouvencel, it was the only one to deserve any credit at all.68 A dispute over the capture and ownership of a prisoner was brought before the count of Parvanchières and his council. The latter all agreed that the first man to have the right hand of the prisoner in his hand and who first received his word owned him. But who was this first man? The count and his council decided to hear the prisoner, provided that he was ‘gentilhomme et digne de foy’ (a gentleman and trustworthy), for then, ‘il en devroit estre cru en son serement’ (he should be believed under oath). The prisoner was indeed a nobleman; he was heard, and his testimony allowed the count and his council to reach a decision. If the word of a gentleman carried a lot of weight, more than that of any other man, failure to observe this word may have had a deeper impact. This is to some extent what is implied in the general amnesty On honour and status, see J. Pitt-Rivers, ‘Honour and Social Status’, in J. G. Peristiany, ed., Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society (London, 1965), pp. 21–77. For honour and nobility in the late medieval context, see C. Gauvard, ‘Honneur’, in C. Gauvard, A. de Libera and M. Zink, eds., Dictionnaire du moyen âge (Paris, 2002), pp. 687–9 and her following observation: ‘Au gré des mots échangés, la renommée se fait et se défait si bien que les groupes privilégiés tendent à démontrer que certains “états”, à commencer par la noblesse, ne peuvent être atteints par ces fluctuations circonstancielles. Ils disposent moins d’une renommée que d’un honneur, par definition intangible.’ C. Gauvard, ‘Rumeurs et stéréotypes à la fin du moyen âge’, in La Circulation des nouvelles au moyen âge: XXIVe congrès de la société des historiens médiévistes de l’enseignement supérieur, Avignon, 1993 (Paris, 1994), p. 168. 66 BnF, Coll. Lorraine, t. 291, no. 69; published in S. Luce, Jeanne d’Arc à Domrémy: recherches critiques sur les origines de la mission de la Pucelle (Paris, 1886), pp. 301–5 (25 November 1419). 67 BL, Add. Ms. 15644, fols. 3v–4r (1 February 1442). 68 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, pp. 223–5. 65

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Honour promulgated by Henry V in 1418.69 All Norman subjects who had fled the duchy at his invasion were invited to return to their homes and swear fealty to the English king. Special assurances were given to those individuals who had been captured and held for ransom but who had escaped from their captors. They might return safely without fear of recapture. Gentlemen, however, who had given their word (‘parole’), were not to be released from their obligations by swearing allegiance.They were guaranteed protection against arrest but their captors could bring action against them before the king’s justices.70 The status of nobility was undoubtedly a great asset for its holder. Indeed, it is no accident that, in his treatise of heraldry, Sicily Herald recommended that any gentleman should tell his captor about his nobility at the moment of his capture so that his life would be spared but, the herald added, he should not immediately disclose his name to his captor because the latter might know him and kill him on the spur of the moment.71 The importance of being identified, however, is sadly illustrated by the death of Anthony of Burgundy, duke of Brabant, on the field of Agincourt.72 According to chronicler Edmond de Dynter, the duke was captured and died anonymously in the slaughter of prisoners which took place towards the end of the battle. He had not been identified because he was wearing the armour of one of his chamberlains and declined to disclose his identity in the hope of paying a low ransom. In theory, the noble prisoner could also expect to be treated properly. Thomas Walsingham reported that the duke of Alençon would have guaranteed that the earl of Dorset, who was trapped between him and the sea near Harfleur in 1416, would be ‘treated with all the honour that your noble birth demands and your ransom will be reasonable and not excessive’ if he agreed to surrender.73 This greater consideration for the nobleman finds some support in the registers of the Parlement of Paris. Foedera (PRO), vol. iv/iii, p. 47; quoted in R. A. Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy of Conciliation in Normandy, 1417–1422’, in C. H. Taylor, ed., Anniversary Essays in Medieval History by Students of Charles Homer Haskins (Boston, Mass., and New York, 1929), pp. 205–29, at p. 213. 70 The impact of this new context of conquest and occupation on the status of prisoner of war will be discussed at length in Chapter 3. 71 Parties inédites de l’oeuvre de Sicile héraut d’Alphonse V roi d’Aragon, maréchal d’armes du pays de Hainault, auteur du blason de couleurs, P. Roland, ed. (Mons, 1867), p.  45; P. Adam-Even, ‘Les Fonctions militaires des hérauts d’armes: leur influence sur le développement de l’héraldique’, Archives Héraldiques Suisses, 71 (1957), 2–33, at pp. 4–15. 72 E. de Dynter, Chronique des ducs de Brabant, P. F.  X. De Ram, ed., 6 vols. (Brussels, 1854–60), vol. iii, pp. 303–4. On the duke’s participation in the battle of Agincourt, see S. Boffa, ‘Antoine de Bourgogne et le contingent brabançon à la bataille d’Azincourt, 1415’, Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 72 (1994), 255–85. 73 The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham (1376–1422), D. Preest and J. G. Clark, eds. (Woodbridge, 2005), p. 414 (4 March 1416). 69

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war We learn, for instance, that in the early 1430s, Louis Bournel, who was then prisoner of the duke of Burgundy, was properly accommodated by his guardians ‘pour ce qu’ilz trouverent qu’il estoit chevalier et homme d’estat’ (since they found out that he was a knight and a man of public standing).74 He would be ‘graciously’ treated as long as he and his men behaved properly and followed the instructions of the king or the duke of Burgundy. In 1415, Guillaume des Ages saw an opportunity to make money out of the great expectations of his captive, the lord of Menon, who asked for all the respect and consideration due to his rank.75 He pleased his prisoner in every possible manner but eventually asked for an outrageously large amount of money as the price for his custody. Nobles were far more likely to find charity, respect and recognition within the noble community that shared their values. Evidence occasionally suggests that nobles would not readily surrender to a non-noble. In the case of a knight who agreed to surrender to a man on condition that he was a gentleman but later discovered that the man who had taken his faith had deceived him because he was ‘a sergeant without any gentility’, Charny asks, for instance, whether this knight could consider himself quit from his obligation as prisoner.76 Some eighty years later in 1429, at the storming of Jargeau, according to Guillaume Cousinot, William de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, asked the man who chased and caught him whether he was a gentleman.77 The man, Guillaume Raynaud, answered yes, although an esquire was seemingly not honourable enough for Suffolk, who made him a knight before surrendering (unlike in England, a French esquire could belong to the nobility).78 It must be noted that this hierarchy within the ranks of the nobility between esquires and nobles was not, however, common. The main line of demarcation was between nobles (lords, knights and esquires) and non-nobles. The concepts of prestige, honour and revenge were firmly united in the medieval consciousness, especially in the noble class.79 There were 74 AN, X1a 4797 fol. 300. 75 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). 76 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 74vo; Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, p. 90. 77 G. Cousinot, Chronique dite de la Pucelle, A.Vallet de Viriville, ed. (Paris, 1859), p. 302. 78 Berry Herald did not include the dialogue in his chronicle. On the other hand, he did report that Suffolk made Raynaud a knight ‘affin que il fust prins de chevalier’. G. Le Bouvier, dit le Héraut Berry, Les Chroniques du roi Charles VII, H. Courteault, L. Celier and M.-H. Jullien de Pommerol, eds. (Paris, 1979), pp. 137–8. About Guillaume Raynaud or Reynaud, who was bailli of the Montagnes of Auvergne from 1436 to 1440, see M. Boudet, Les Baillis royaux et ducaux de la Haute-Auvergne (Riom, 1906), pp. 207–15. 79 For this reason, the medieval laws even accept the acts of defiance, or reptos, and challenges between nobles as a valid formula for settling their differences in affairs of honour. J. C. Baroja,

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Honour two means of action associated with the law of honour which nobles could pursue against one of their peers who had breached their faith – the duel and the ‘deshonorement’ (dishonouring). The duel already had a long history by the end of Middle Ages.80 It had been appropriated by the noble class in the fourteenth century, and from that point onwards had started its slow transformation from the judicial duel to the duel of honour.Yet it remained within legal channels even if it belonged within extraordinary legal processes.81 Duels appear to have resulted from an impasse in the ordinary legal process. Prisoner-taking, and the heavy reliance on the good faith of the prisoner and his captor, provided a favourable ground for resort to extraordinary processes. How, for instance, could any arbitrator decide between a noble captor who claimed to have received the oath of his noble prisoner when the latter denied it? Such conflicting claims were at the origin of the duel fought by the English soldier John Painter and the Frenchman Jean Du Châtel, in 1428, in front of Jean de Dunois, bâtard of Orléans, the bâtard of la Marche and Etienne de Vigneulles, better known as La Hire.82 Even so, evidence of duels resulting from prisoner-taking or from ransom disputes remains few and far between.83 Whether or not we may deduce from this that they were not commonly fought, duels enjoyed great prestige in noble attitudes, as the following obligation of Thomas Percy in 1373 suggests.84 The English knight promised Charles V not to leave his prison in Paris without his consent. If he failed to keep his word, he committed to fight alone against four knights in the presence of whom he had sealed his obligation. The second means of action – the ‘deshonorement’ – stands outside any legal process. It consisted of displaying in public places the arms of a nobleman reversed (‘subversio armorum’) or else an effigy of an armed man hanging upside down.85 The ‘deshonorement’, as its name indicates, ‘Honour and Shame: A Historical Account of Several Conflicts’, in J. G. Peristiany, ed., Honour and Shame:The Values of Mediterranean Society (London, 1965), pp. 79–138, at p. 92. 80 For the earlier history of the judicial duel, see R. Bartlett, Trial by Fire and Water: The Medieval Judicial Ordeal (Oxford, 1986), pp. 103–26. Its evolution in the late Middle Ages is investigated by M. Chabas, Le Duel judiciaire en France (XIIIe–XVIe siècles) (Paris, 1973), especially pp. 113–251. 81 Chabas, Le Duel, p. 153. See also KLW, pp. 39–44. 82 Livre des miracles de Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois (1375–1470),Y. Chauvin, ed. (Poitiers, 1976), pp. 55–7, no. 104 (11 June 1428). 83 Duels were relatively frequent according to Maurice Keen (KLW, pp. 41–2), who quotes references to duels in the Rolls of Scotland, but he only refers to one instance of another duel arising out of a conflict over the ownership of a prisoner: it was fought in 1386 between Jacques Breton and Louis de Cera. BnF, col. Doat 203, fol. 267ff; quoted by KLW, p, 42; Chivalry, p. 175. 84 BnF, Na.Fr. 7882 (8 December 1383). 85 This practice has long been identified. It has recently been the object of an article by L. Hablot, ‘“Sens dessoubz dessus”: le blason de la trahison’, in M. Billoré and M. Soria, eds., La Trahison au moyen âge: de la monstruosité au crime politique (Ve–XVe siècle) (Rennes, 2009), pp. 331–47.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war was a direct attack on the honour of a member of the knightly class. The ‘subversio armorum’ likely had its origin in the habit of covering the body of a dead knight with his shield placed upside down; a dishonoured knight was considered as a dead man.86 Such a belief, however extreme it may seem to us, was rooted in the medieval mindset.87 The sources make occasional references to the application of ‘deshonorement’ against prisoners or against their pledges for default of payment.The fact that we do not find more references to it may result from its clash with ordinary legal process and to the risk incurred by those who resorted to ‘deshonorement’ of seeing their right in ransoms denied. Two knights, Jean de Melun and Guillaume, lord of Châteauvillain, argued in the Parlement of Paris in 1363 and 1441 respectively that, in resorting to ‘deshonorement’, their masters had renounced their obligations of payment.This argument, however, was not upheld by the court.88 Defaulting nobles also exposed themselves to chastisement from their friends, companions and fellow members of the chivalric orders. Both Pierre de Bauffremont, lord of Charny, and Guillaume de Vienne, lord of Saint-Georges, were threatened by their peers with exclusion from the chivalric order of the Golden Fleece because of failure to pay their ransoms. Bauffremont had left his brother as a hostage for the payment of his ransom.The chapter of the order considered that he had then delayed too long.89 The knight had to answer for this and bring evidence of his argument. He was also asked to give a precise date by which he would be able to pay the ransom in full and thereby to release his brother. Bauffremont was forced to withdraw from the order during the examination of his case 86 J.-B. de la Curne de Sainte-Palaye, Mémoires sur l’ancienne chevalerie considérée comme un établissement politique et militaire (Paris, 1759), p. 382, no. 50; R. Mathieu, Le Système héraldique francais (Paris, 1946), p. 233; Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 298. See also Hablot, ‘“Sens dessoubz”’, p. 344. 87 See the thirteenth-century medieval law code, the Siete Partidas: ‘two crimes are equal, to kill a man or to accuse him [falsely] of wrongdoing: for a man once he is defamed, although he be innocent, is dead to the good and to the honour of the world; and besides, the slander may be such that death would be better for him than life.’ Baroja, ‘Honour and Shame’, p. 85; L.Wasseman, ‘Shame in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, in L. D. Benson and J. Leyerle, eds., Chivalric Literature: Essays on Relations Between Literature and Life in the Later Middle Ages (Kalamazoo, Mich., 1980), pp. 77–90, at pp. 78–9. 88 I have come across five references of subversio armorum applied in such circumstances. See Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 19 n. 4; ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, p. 20; Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 283– 302; KLW, pp.  173–4. It is interesting to note that Laurent Hablot only found references to approximately fifteen cases of subversio armorum between the mid-fourteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth century. Hablot, ‘“Sens dessoubz”’, p. 332. 89 Bauffremont’s case is discussed in M. G. A.Vale, War and Chivalry:Warfare and Aristocratic Culture in England, France and Burgundy at the End of the Middle Ages (London, 1981), p. 47. See also about the knight’s long career and membership, M.-Th. Caron, ‘Pierre de Bauffremont, comte de Charny’, in R. de Smedt, ed., Les Chevaliers de l’ordre de la Toison d’or au XVe siècle (Frankfurt, 1994), pp. 45–7, no. 20.

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Honour but he was subsequently readmitted. The case of Vienne did not concern the payment of his own ransom but that of Guillaume de Châteauvillain, of whom he was kinsman and, more importantly, for whom he stood as a surety in 1431.90 The chapter discussed whether the dishonour of his relative should not extend to Vienne himself as pledge for the payment of the ransom but came to the conclusion that it did not jeopardise his membership of the order. Honour dictated a code of conduct which nobles followed through fear of disgrace and social exclusion. How tangible this fear was is relatively difficult to establish in so far as the issue of prisoners of war is concerned. It is interesting to note that the threat of disgrace hung over the head of defaulting prisoners who breached their faith. What about masters who were supposed to treat their prisoners well? We have quoted some examples of good treatment, but what happened to those who tortured their prisoners? Let us return to the case of the French knight Henri Gencian and his torturer, François de la Palud, lord of Varambon. To some extent, the latter’s high expectations of the ransom of his prisoner, and the violence he exerted against him, can be explained by the fact that he had himself been taken prisoner two years before at the battle of Anthon in June 1430, and a ruinous ransom had been squeezed out of him by Rodrigo Villandrando.91 This does not excuse his behaviour towards Gencian, however. More importantly, it is striking to note that many of the acts of cruelty had been carried out in public. Some people disapproved, as in Chalon-sur-Saône where the bishop and men of good repute remonstrated against Varambon and where some townsmen pitied the prisoner who was forced to beg for his ransom.92 Yet nobody interfered, which suggests that the relation between masters and prisoners remained a private issue, or rather one where the rule of honour had no special impact. That a knight was capable of such abuses against one of his peers hints, to some extent, of the great danger to which non-nobles were exposed when they fell into the hands of the enemy.There are grounds to believe that a phenomenon of class-consciousness existed. The appropriation of honour as a defining feature of the nobility or, on a smaller level, the higher credit placed in the word of a gentleman prisoner are clear expressions of it. It was exacerbated in the course of the war by the increasing number of non-noble combatants in the armies, which included in their 90 Keen, Chivalry, p.  175. See also, about him, M. Th.-Caron, ‘Guillaume de Vienne, seigneur de Saint-Georges et de Sainte-Croix’, in Les Chevaliers, pp. 3–4, no. 1. 91 Quicherat, Villandrando, p. 51; F. Barbey, Louis de Chalon, prince d’Orange, seigneur d’Orbe, Echallens, Grandson, 1390–1463 (Lausanne, 1926), pp. 145–6. 92 AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190v.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war ranks brigands, sacquemans, pillars, pavesiers (light infantry), archers, crossbowmen, gunners and all sorts of varlets and pages.93 The very practice of oath-taking at the moment of the capture may have raised an issue. Would a noble be prepared to take the oath of any non-noble, or vice versa? Evidence of clashes between the two classes on the issue of prisoners of war is not uncommon during the Hundred Years War. Froissart reported that at the battle of La Rochelle in 1372, the English lords asked their French and Castilian masters to save the lives of their ‘varlès’.94 We learn in the Histoire of Jean Juvénal des Ursins that the French brigands who occupied Azay in 1420 put up the strongest possible fight against their besiegers because they knew very well that they could not hope for mercy in the event of their capture.95 Their fear proved to be justified: they were eventually forced to surrender and were executed. The forty or fifty ‘arbalestriers Genevois, Portingalois et d’aultres brigans d’estranges marches, comme de Boulenois et d’autres lieux’ (crossbowmen from Genoa, Portugal and other brigands from foreign marches, such as Boulogne and other places) who were captured by the French in one of the bastilles surrounding Compiègne in 1430 suffered the same fate.96 Many more examples could be quoted here.97 Interestingly this phenomenon of class hatred could also work against the nobles. This was particularly true when combatants recruited from towns and villages were involved in an encounter.98 We read, for instance, in Cousinot’s chronicle that the ‘gens du commun’ who participated in the storming of Jargeau in 1429 killed all the English prisoners they found in the hands of French gentlemen.99 For this reason it was thought necessary to take to Orléans the earl of suffolk, his brother, and several other higher-ranking English prisoners to save their lives.100 Such bloody demonstrations of class hatred were not common. It is hardly conceivable that increasing numbers of non-noble soldiers would See Contamine, Guerre, état et société, passim; A. Ayton, ‘English Armies in the Fourteenth Century’, in A. Curry and M. Hugues, eds., Arms, Armies and Fortifications in the Hundred Years War (Woodbridge, 1994), pp. 21–38; A. Curry, ‘English Armies in the Fifteenth Century’, in Curry and Hugues, eds., Arms, Armies and Fortifications in the Hundred Years War, pp. 39–68.   94 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 42. On varlets, see n. 1.   95 J. Juvénal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, J. A. C. Buchon, ed. (Paris, 1836), p. 545.   96 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 415–16.   97 See, for instance, Monstrelet, Chronique, vol.  iii, pp.  83–5, vol.  v, pp.  48 and 75; Froissart, SHF, vol. ix, p. 105; Pierre de Fénin, Mémoires, M. L. E. Dupont, ed. (Paris, 1837), p. 77; Livre des miracles, p. 53, no. 100 (13 January 1426).   98 P. Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, M. C. E. Jones, transl. (Oxford, 1984), p. 291.   99 Cousinot, Chronique, p. 299. 100 See other examples in Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 430–1, vol. vi, p. 259; ‘Le Livre des trahisons’, p. 97.   93

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The law of contract enrol in the armies if their fate in the event of their capture was inevitably death. The prospect of profit is also likely to have contained this class issue in many circumstances. This is easily conceivable in the case of a non-nobleman’s capture of a nobleman; the profit to be drawn from the latter’s ransom could potentially change his life. The English archer, Robert Sadeler, for instance, is recorded in the accounts of the exchequer relating to the Agincourt campaign as the captor of a French noble, Eridrad de Droyle, whose ransom amounted to £58 13s 4d.101 The opposite, however, is less obvious: the valet of one Jean de Garin, and Jean Garin, himself, figure among the French prisoners in the hands of the English knight Henry Fitzhugh, following Agincourt.102 But one wonders what would have happened to the valet if his master had not survived. In any case, there is evidence the ransoming practice reached the lower levels of the social and military hierarchy in the course of the war, as we shall see in Chapter 5. The law of contract The emergence of the law of contract and its adoption in the ransom system lessened the significance of honour and parole since it substituted them, where possible, with formal written obligations recognised by any court of law.103 This law, therefore, gave the opportunity for the practice of ransoming to bypass class division and potentially to encompass every level in society. How was the law of contract applied to the ransom system? How widespread was its use? To some extent, the following letter of attorney issued in 1434 by the departing captain of Essay, Robert Harling, says it all: Et avecque ce, a susdits procureurs ou a deux d’icelx come dit est donna auctorité a contrater, composer et appoincter avecque ses prisonniers de guerre TNA, E 358/6, fol. 5v. This roll included another example of an archer who was the joint captor of one Frenchman called le Sire de Corps (fol. 1r). See also A. Curry, The Battle of Agincourt: Sources and Interpretations (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 432–3; Agincourt, pp. 243–5; Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 142–8. 102 TNA E 101/58/2, no. 40 (26 February 1416). 103 For the recognition of contracts in courts of law, see KLW, p. 20. Maurice Keen also discusses the terms of contractual agreements between masters and prisoners (pp. 164–72), but Robert Stacey is the first to highlight the significance of these contracts in the laws of ransom in a perceptive survey article R. C. Stacey, ‘The Age of Chivalry’, in M. Howard, G. J. Andreopoulos and M. R. Shulman, eds., The Laws of War: Constraints on Warfare in the Western World (London and New Haven, Conn., 1994), pp. 27–39, especially at pp. 31–2. On the development of the law of contracts in the thirteenth century and its widespread use in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, see P.-C. Timbal et al., Les Obligations contractuelles d’après la jurisprudence du parlement (XIIIe–XIVe siècles) (Paris, 1973); and for a more general survey, D. J. Ibbetson, A Historical Introduction to the Law of Obligations (Oxford, 1999), pp. 11–87. 101

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war estans audit lieu d’Essay ou avecque personne de par eulx, de les mectre chacun par soy a telle finances et rancons comme ilz verront bon convenir, de leur donner temps et terme d’icelle paier et de prendre pour icelle scellé ou scellez … et le terme d’icelx passet, de sommer et requerir ceulx qui avoit baillé iceulx ainxi qu’il est acoustumé selon usance de guerre et icelles rancons et finances receues, en donner bonnes quictances suffisantes a qui il appartient.104 And with this, to the above-mentioned attorneys or two of them, as said, [Harling] gave authority to contract and come to terms with his prisoners of war detained in Essay or with anyone on their behalf; to put each of them to such finance and ransom that they will agree [to pay]; to give them time to pay it; to take letters of obligation and, once the time has come to pay, to summon those who gave these letters, as is accustomed, according to the usage of war; and once the ransoms are paid, to provide good and sufficient quittances to whom they belonged.

The drawing up of contracts of ransoms between the prisoners and Harling’s attorneys was intended to be the first and main step in the process. These contracts, negotiated between the two parties, would fix both the amount and the terms of payment of the ransoms. There is no model contract which could possibly embrace the great variety of the terms of ransom and release of the prisoners. Payments were in cash, in goods (there most probably lies the nuance between finance and ransom in medieval vocabulary, the former term referring exclusively to money payment),105 or through an exchange;106 in one lump sum,107 or in several instalments, as was often the case for big ransoms of which payment could run over several years.108 Terms might involve the temporary

104 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26058, no. 2352 (17 September 1434).The italics are mine. Robert Harling, a nephew of John Fastolf, was an experienced captain. He was made bailli of Alençon in 1429. A year later, he exchanged his captaincy of Fresnay-le-Vicomte for Essay, which he held until 1434. After a short stay in England, he went back to France in 1435 as captain of Verneuil but died in the course of that year. R. Triger, ‘Une forteresse du Maine pendant l’occupation anglaise: Fresnay-le-Vicomte de 1417 à 1450’, Revue Historique et Archéologique du Maine, 19 (1886), 27–105, 185–239, at pp. 78–9. 105 For an example of payment in pipes of wine, see Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 362–3 (13 September 1371). It regularly happened too that ransoms were paid partly in cash and partly in goods. The ransom of Jean de Rougemont, captured in 1364, is a good example: it amounted to 4,000 fo, three ‘coursiers’ (each of them being worth 600 florins), three ‘courroies ferrees d’argent’ weighing 18 marks, 36 marks of fine silver in crockery and three silk sheets. ACO, B 11 257, fol. 60v–61r; cited by B. Schnerb, ‘Aspects de l’organisation militaire dans les principautés bourguignonnes’, unpublished Ph.D. thesis (Université de Paris IV, Paris-Sorbonne, 1988), p. 789. 106 See Chapter 5. 107 See, for example, Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, p. 152. 108 See, for example, the ransom agreements for John Hastings, count of Pembroke (8 March 1375), Waléran de Luxembourg, count of Saint-Pol (17 July 1376) or Louis de Bourbon, count of Vendôme (22 March 1417). Letters, Orders and Musters, pp. 236–7, no. 633;TNA, E 30/1686; Foedera, vol. ix, pp. 442–5.

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The law of contract release of the prisoner after a first instalment,109 or require the prisoner to remain in captivity until full payment.110 After the contract terms were agreed, the attorneys were expected to obtain sealed letters of obligation (that is, yet another contract) from a third party who was connected with the prisoner and who would agree to act as pledge in case the prisoner defaulted. John Beaufort, duke of Somerset, for example, who pledged the release on parole of the English knight John Handford, in 1444, promised Handford’s master, Pierre Jaillet, to pay him 4,135 so which corresponded to Handford’s ransom together with his expenses of custody, or else to bring back the body of the English knight, dead or alive, at the end of the four months.111 In some cases, the man standing as pledge committed to replace the prisoner in prison himself if he too failed in his obligation to pay.112 These letters of obligation were carefully preserved by the master of the prisoner and would be surrendered to the pledge or destroyed once the ransom was paid.113 When the time came to pay, the attorneys would summon the pledges, who would receive quittances as evidence of the fulfilment of their obligation once the ransoms were paid. These procedures allow further light to be shed on the mechanisms of the ransoming process. As presented in Harling’s letter, the ransom contracts are in themselves less relevant since the attorneys would only deal with the pledges of the prisoners for payment of their ransoms. Ransom transactions offer a multitude of different scenarios. That said, in general it was the prisoner’s responsibility to raise the money for his ransom.The involvement of pledges often resulted in the need for the prisoner to be released on parole in order to collect the funds under the protection of a safe-conduct: this was yet another contract between the issuer (either the master or a higher authority) and the bearer of the safe conduct. As a general rule, the bearer promised not to carry arms while in enemy 109 The Treaty Rolls preserved in the National Archives in London include countless examples of safe-conducts delivered to these prisoners over the years. TNA, C76/11–135 (1337–1453). 110 This was the case for Jean, count of Armagnac who had fallen into the hands of the count of Foix after the battle of Launac in 1362. D. Barrois, ‘Jean Ier, comte d’Armagnac (1305–1373), son action et son monde’, unpublished Ph.D. thesis (Université de Lille III, Charles de Gaulle, 2004) (www.univ-lille3.fr/theses/barrois-dominique; accessed on 5 July 2006). Many other issues – in particular, the evacuation of towns and fortresses (see pp. 235–9), and the service or allegiance to the enemy (see p. 92) – could be mentioned here. 111 BL, Add. Ch. 12212 (6 March 1444). The ransom was eventually paid to Jaillet by the count of Angoulême, in deduction of his own ransom, owed to the duchess of Clarence, mother of Somerset. BL, Add. Ch. 12211 (1444). 112 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (22 December 1434). 113 The fact that some letters of obligation, contracted by Jean du Bu and Jean des Prés on 1 March 1435 for a sum of 500 so lent by Perrinet Gressart and François l’Aragonais, were found in the archives of the castle of Chassy, owned by Gressart, suggests that the two companions never paid their debt. Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 235.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war territory. He might also promise to follow a specific itinerary imposed on him in his safe-conduct. For his part, the issuer guaranteed a safe journey through his territory during a definite period of time.114 The process, as disclosed in Harling’s letter, may point to the all-too-common failure of prisoners to fulfil their obligations. But it is equally likely that Harling’s case simply highlighted the interests of the captors who needed to provide themselves with ransom contracts and letters of obligation in proper form, neglecting safe-conducts which were necessary to the prisoner only. What is particularly interesting about this document is Harling’s statement, at the end of his instructions, that this ransoming process, based on private agreements, was part of the ‘usages of war’. The infiltration of the law of contract into the ransom system can be fully appreciated through the two cases which follow. The first highlights the standing which authorities accorded to this law. Not only did kings and princes draw ransom contracts with their captives but they also sealed similar written agreements with their own subjects for the purchase of prisoners.115 Philip the Good reached such an agreement with three of his esquires for the purchase of Jean de Rodemack after the latter’s capture at the battle of Bulgnéville in 1431.116 The younger Rodemack was captured on the battlefield by Pierre Rivet, a simple ‘valet d’armes’, who handed over his captive to his master, a Burgundian esquire, Guillaume Resc. The latter, together with two associates, sold their captive to the duke and agreed with him that they would obtain the approval of the valet who did not himself take part in the negotiations. Fascinatingly, apart from this precaution, the quittance surrendered by the three esquires had also to include a precautionary clause which, in all likelihood, had been demanded by the duke and which protected him against anyone else who might claim the ownership of the captive. The second case, based on the corpus of documents that Pierre Marchegay collected concerning the ransom of Olivier de Coëtivy captured at Bordeaux in 1452, shows how every single step in the ransom process was sanctioned by the law of contract at that time.117 We have the usual ransom contract, letters from his pledges and safe-conducts. But we also find, among other documents, letters of obligation signed and sealed by the prisoner and his brother on 29 June 1454 giving guarantee to several pledges that their letters of obligation, sent to the 114 The content of these safe-conducts will be more fully discussed in Chapter 6. 115 Princely acquisition of prisoners will be more fully discussed in Chapter 3. 116 B. Schnerb, Bulgnéville (1431): l’État bourguignon prend pied en Lorraine (Paris, 1993), pp. 99–100. 117 P. Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy, seigneur de Taillebourg et sénéchal de Guyenne, 1451–1477’, BEC, 38 (1877), 5–48.

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The law of contract Englishman, John Talbot II, for the release of Coëtivy, would be given back to them.118 There is also a certificate made before an apostolic and imperial notary testifying that Guillaume Braquemont, Coëtivy’s attorney, had delivered the letters of obligation for the release of Coëtivy to Talbot’s herald on 26 September 1454.119 Even the simple acknowledgement of the cession of letters of obligation from one person to another was the subject of a written contract or certification. Interestingly, we also learn through Coëtivy’s contract of ransom that heralds had become authorities in matters relating to contracts and obligations: one of the clauses stipulates that ‘Olivier fera certiffier par lectres souffisamment auctorisées d’un hérault d’armes, notable personne, que lesdiz séellez et chascun d’eulx seront bons, vroiz et loyaulx, et signez des propres mains desdiz seigneurs et séellez des propres séaulx de leurs armes, sans fraude, barat ou mal engin quelconque’ (Olivier will certify, through letters sufficiently authorised by a herald, ‘notable person’, that the said letters of obligation and each of them will be good, genuine and loyal, and signed with the personal hands of the said lords and sealed with their own seals).120 Evidence even shows that contractual agreements seem to have enjoyed some ascendancy over other principles of law. Even if the law of arms theoretically guaranteed the good treatment of prisoners, the fact that some captives felt the need to include a clause in their contract relating to the conditions of their captivity betrays a lack of confidence in it. The count of Foix included in the contract he sealed with Bernard d’Albret and his brother, in 1364, that he would not ‘martyr’ the bodies of his two captives.121 Similarly, it was stipulated in a letter of obligation drawn in 1421 that Pierre Saulnier would stand as hostage for Jean Péguillot ‘en taverne ouverte’ (open prison, or literally ‘in open inn’);122 and it was argued in the Parlement of Paris in 1426 that the hostages of the bâtard of La Baume ‘par traictié, ne devoient point estre enferrez’ (by treaty, should not be fettered).123 The law of arms could simply be disregarded in some instances. It was argued in the court of the city of London, in 1381, that by the law of arms a prisoner who did not honour his dates of payment could be put to ransom afresh by his masters.124 However, a clause of the contract of ransom Marchegay, ‘La Rançon’, pp. 17–18. 119 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon’, pp. 18–21. 120 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon’, p. 13. 121 KLW, pp. 168–9. 122 Luce, Jeanne d’Arc, pp. 316–17 (30 December 1421). 123 English Suits, p. 150. 124 Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 23. 118

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war of the English esquire John Norbury, in 1438, protected him against such a disagreeable prospect: ‘Item pareillement, [his master, Jean de Vendôme] promestz … pour le temps advenir ne le mettre, ne faire metre a plus hault ne gregneur finance que le somme dessudicte’ (Item, similarly,Vendôme swears … for the time to come not to put him to higher nor greater finance than the above-said sum).125 In a further case, four obligations made by hostages who committed themselves to Antoine de Vaudémont to replace his prisoner, Guillaume de Dammartin, demonstrates the clear subordination of the law of arms to the law of contract.126 The four men were bound to come on 10 May 1438 to the castle of Vaudémont where they would remain prisoners until Dammartin returned from his temporary release. They promised not to try to obtain any licence or document from René d’Anjou or his deputies which would liberate them from their prison. Most interestingly, they also agreed in this obligation not to raise any argument based on the law of arms or on any other law which would contradict their promise to be hostages for the release on parole of Dammartin. All the cases presented so far concern the higher levels of the hierarchy. How far down the social ladder did the law of contract extend? This important question is difficult to answer. The surviving quittance of Jean Seigneur, of the English garrison of Avranches, acknowledging the receipt of some 150 eo for the ransom of Robin de la Bovesserie, his prisoner, is one good piece of evidence of the application of the law of contract at a lower level of the social hierarchy.127 This document was certified by the court of Dol on 14 October 1427. We learn through it that a lord of Beaufort had given a letter of obligation for the ransom and that the English master had certified that he had destroyed this letter after payment of the ransom. We also see in a legal case brought before the Parlement of Paris in 1447 that even the 40 eo and 20 so for the ransom of two Frenchmen had given rise to a letter of obligation.128 If these two cases appear to indicate that the system of obligations and contractual agreements had reached every level of the hierarchy, it must be noted, nevertheless, that there were possible alternatives to it. Either the prisoner could be kept in prison until his ransom was paid or hostages could replace him in prison. The documents often show the surrender of hostages as an extra guarantee for the release of a prisoner who had previously sealed a contract of ransom and provided letters of BL, Add. Ch. 5833 (3 October 1438).   BnF, Coll. Lorraine, 257, no. 37–40 (3 May 1438). 127 BL, Add Ch 11581 (14 October 1427). 128 AN, X1a 4801, fol. 289v (12 June 1447). 125



126

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Lex talionis obligation, as was the case of John Handford. However, there is reason to believe that, in other instances, the only guarantee for the captor were the hostages in his hands. This was probably the case for the ransom of Walter Kelyng, Richard Clerk and thirteen other men who had been taken prisoners by Bretons of the garrison of Mont-Saint-Michel in the 1430s or 1440s.129 Some of the prisoners were left as pledges or hostages for the release on parole of others who were expected to find the money for their collective £80 ransom.130 As the payment was not made on time, the Bretons cast one of the hostages over the wall of the town. The significance of the law of contract in directing the ransoming process in the late Middle Ages is beyond doubt. To some degree, this law seems to have acted as a necessary supplement to the law of honour in a period marked by the inclusion of the lower strata of society in armies and by an increasingly materialistic mindset. It was certainly more concerned than was the law of arms with the relationship between masters and prisoners. Primarily it contributed to the materialisation or efficiency of the process of ransoming and only secondarily to the wellbeing of prisoners. A contractual agreement was a voluntary pact, and any pressure exerted on one of the contractual parties, if proven, would potentially invalidate the agreement. The registers of the Parlement of Paris show that some prisoners of war invoked this argument to escape ransom payments which they had previously agreed.The court, however, did not usually receive their claims, because conditions in which ransom contracts were sealed inevitably implied that one of the contracting parties was in a position of strength.131 The strongest motives for the preservation of prisoners’ lives are to be found outside the legal framework. lex talionis

As the sources show vividly, lex talionis, the principle of retaliation – an eye for an eye – caused much violence in the period. Some prisoners were taken by way of reprisal. For instance, in 1361, Guillaume de La Ferté justified the capture of a man called Strabon Chinillaco who was in the company of Pierre de Crassey because he himself had previously been taken by Crassey’s men.132 Similarly, Froissart recounted that, once he had returned from his prison in England, Hugues de Châtillon, lord of Dampierre, put much effort into capturing Nicolas de Louvain who 129 TNA C 1/45/27 (1433–43). 130 In parallel, on collective petitions at lower level of the hierarchy, see p. 174. 131 Timbal, Les Obligations, p. 78. 132 AN, X1a 17, fol. 98 ff; cited by KLW, p. 80 n.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war had ambushed him near Abbeville in 1369 and had refused to ransom him.133 Prisoners also died as a result of revenge. The list of such executions is long.The following are only a few examples.There were Gascons and Bretons at Meaux, under Tanguy du Châtel, and at Melun, under Guillaume lord of Barbazan, who, according to Jean Juvénal des Ursins, often raided but never took prisoners since they killed and hanged all those whom they captured; as a result, they suffered a similar fate at the hands of their enemies.134 More particularly, in 1417, Victor, bâtard of Croÿ, assaulted the home of one Laurent, a man in the company of the bâtard of Thien. Laurent was put to death and the valuables of all the other dwellers in his house were taken. By way of reprisal, the bâtard of Thien hanged a notable gentleman called Gadifer Galehault who was among his prisoners.135 The treaty of capitulation of the bridge of Meulan sealed in March 1423 stipulated the unconditional surrender of Frenchmen who had participated in an ambush which had taken place earlier that year and after which all the English prisoners had been executed.136 Finally, in February 1426, a letter of pardon was granted to John Okeley, an English soldier in the garrison of Château-Gaillard, for the arrest and execution of Arnaud Fetot without any trial. Three years before, the latter had been involved in the death of Thomas Breton, the lieutenant of the garrison of Château-Gaillard, during an attempt to seize the place from the English.137 There is reason to believe, however, that the principle of retaliation also acted as a regulator of violence. The testimony of a soldier rescued by the miraculous intervention of Saint Catherine illustrates this point.138 Pierre du Fons, together with four companions, all of them in the retinue of Regnault Guillem, was captured on 9 November 1429. Their captors, some English soldiers of Alençon, took them to their garrison. 133 Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, pp. lxxx, 112, 194. Louvain had sold Châtillon to Edward III for 10,000 marks. An order of payment for half the sum was issued on 9 February 1370.TNA, E 404/10.The payment was made a week later. Issue Roll of Thomas Brantingham, 1370, F. Devon, ed. (London, 1835), p. 445 (16 February 1370). Other smaller instalments are recorded in Issue Roll of Thomas Brantingham, pp. 450, 466. 134 Juvénal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, p. 546. 135 Fénin, Mémoires, pp. 72–3; Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, p. 180. 136 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 134 and 138 ff. 137 Actes de la chancellerie d’Henri VI concernant la Normandie sous la domination anglaise (1422–1435), P. Le Cacheux, ed., 2 vols. (Rouen, 1907–8), vol. i, pp. 294–6, no. 117 (February 1426). For other examples of retaliation, see Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 182; The Anonimalle Chronicle, 1333 to 1381, V. H. Galbraith ed. (Manchester, 1927), p. 62; Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, pp. 180, 248–9, 310, vol. iv, pp. 131, 134, 138, vol. vi, pp. 248–50; Juvénal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, p. 569; AN, JJ 198, no. 7; last reference cited by Quichérat, Villandrando, pp. 293–4; J. Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, roi de France, A.Vallet de Virriville, ed., 3 vols. (Paris, 1858), vol. i, p. 140. 138 Livre des miracles, pp. 63–5, no. 108 (14 July 1430).

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Lex talionis On the very first day of detention, they beheaded one of the French soldiers for the displeasure that he had once caused to them in the past. On the next day, two further captives were hanged without any apparent motive. Eight days later, Regnault Guillem, who heard of the summary executions of his men, threatened the English by saying that he would take revenge on his own English captives. In response to these threats, the two remaining French captives were taken out of Alençon on the next day in order to be hanged on the nearest tree. Du Fons’ companion met his death by this hanging, but Pierre himself miraculously survived four attempts at hanging, and the captain of Alençon, William Oldhall, in the end gave orders to spare his life. The news of these killings had spread quickly enough to permit Guillem to make efforts to stop the slaughter of his remaining men. His threats of retaliation did not, however, dissuade the English, who, in response, proceeded with the hangings of the surviving captives. If the fear of retaliation did not prevent the escalation of violence in that particular case, it is nonetheless significant that the French captain thought of it as a possible way to stop the executions. Gauvard showed in her study on crime in late medieval France that one murder almost inevitably called for another.139 And we have seen through many examples how this principle was deep-rooted in the mentality of the combatants. It is clear that the scrupulous observance of the lex talionis must have contributed to keeping many a prisoner alive. The monk of Saint-Denis recounted that, in 1412, during the French civil war, a Burgundian troop defeated by the Armagnacs near Le Puiset asked that there should not be any attempt on the lives of those who had been imprisoned in Paris out of hatred for the duke of Orléans because they feared reprisals against the Burgundian prisoners who had been captured at Le Puiset.140 During the siege of Orléans, on 29 April 1429, the English, outraged by letters from Joan of Arc, kept in captivity the French heralds who had carried them, with the possible intention of killing them.141 Hearing of this, Jean de Dunois, bâtard of Orléans, sent his herald to demand that the English release the French heralds immediately. The message was clear. If the English killed the heralds, Dunois would order the execution of English heralds who, at that time, were negotiating the release of English prisoners inside Orléans. Eventually, French and English heralds returned safely to their respective sides. 139 ‘Le lien entre la vengeance et le crime dépend en fait étroitement du type de crime qui a été commis. Il est écrasant quand il s’agit de l’homicide puisqu’il atteint plus de 80% des cas.’ Gauvard, ‘De grace especial’, vol. ii, pp. 755–6, 758. 140 Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. vi, pp. 581–3. 141 Cousinot, Chronique, p. 285.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war It is also interesting to note that the law of retaliation could have positive repercussions on the treatment of prisoners. Hugues de Châtillon, lord of Dampierre, detained in England in 1370, asked his wife to ensure that Simon Burley, an English prisoner in her charge, would be treated well so that de Châtillon himself could benefit from better conditions of captivity and could hope to be exchanged with him.142 All in all the sources provide more examples of the violent impact of the law of retaliation, but its positive impact can far more easily go unnoticed. A closer scrutiny of the lex talionis through all the sources available would probably provide further evidence of its moderating influence on warfare.143 Money Money was a major factor in the fate of a prisoner and, on many occasions, must have surpassed any other principles. When the count of Nevers, the future John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy, had fallen into the hands of the Sultan Bayezid at the battle of Nicopolis in 1396, Dino Rapondi, a merchant from Lucca, told John’s father, Philip the Bold, by way of reassurance, that ‘il n’est chose qui ne se règle par l’argent’ (there is nothing that money cannot put right).144 Indeed, Nevers and some of his fellow captives secured their release from prison through the payment of a huge ransom.145 For Cuvelier, the fourteenth-century poet and biographer of Du Guesclin, there was no doubt that ‘qui a de l’argent tous jours, eschape et fine’ (he who has money always finds a way out and pays).146 The disagreeable implication was that the lives of captives who could not afford their ransom were in serious danger. The urgent need for money recurs in the poetry of Jean Régnier, bailli of Auxerre, who wrote the following eloquent roundel in 1432 during his captivity at Beauvais.147 Le prisonnier Qui n’a argent Est en dangier Le prisonnier Pendre ou noyer Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 322–7 (9 August 1371). 143 For a comment on its relevance in early modern and modern Europe, see G. Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’, in The Laws of War, pp. 40–58, p. 55. 144 Froissart, KL, vol. xv, p. 356; B. Schnerb, Jean sans Peur: un prince meurtrier (Paris, 2007), pp. 92–4. 145 Schnerb, Jean sans Peur, p. 91. 146 Cuvelier, Chronique, vol. ii, p. 207. 147 Régnier, Les Fortunes, pp. 7, 11, 56–7, 127. 142

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Money Le fait l’argent. The prisoner Who has no money Is in danger; The prisoner, Hanged or drowned Money makes him.148

Hanged or drowned, such indeed was the fate of all the men who could not pay their ransoms at the time of the English invasion of Normandy, according to the monk of Saint-Denis who – it must be noted – had a tendency to paint a darker picture than was really the case.149 There is no doubt that the excessive greed of the captors must have cost the lives of many prisoners.The very moment of capture was one of tension between soldiers which could result in the killing of prisoners.150 The resort to torture in order to squeeze the biggest possible ransom is well known and illustrated in the sources.151 Prisoners on whom pressure was exerted were kept in deep and narrow pits, hands and feet fettered.152 They were fed on bread and water,153 beaten, tortured or even mutilated.154 A case brought before the Châtelet of Paris in June 1391 reveals that there was a regular torturer in the company of Robert Chesnel whose job, as he admitted to the judges, had been to beat prisoners: ‘quant les varlez amenoient un prisonnier, ilz le lui bailloient pour rençonner … ledit qui parle prend un baston, et frapoit le bon homme tant et si largement qu’il n’en povoit plus et qu’il s’escouvenoit qu’il se rençonnast fort à grant somme’ (when the varlets brought a prisoner to him for ransom … the one who speaks takes [read: took] a stick and beat the man so badly that he could stand no more and agreed to ransom himself for a large sum).155 148 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 13. 149 Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. vi, p. 285. 150 This point will be further developed in Chapter 4. 151 Some witnesses of the miraculous intervention of Charles de Blois and Sainte-Catherine give much detail about their conditions of captivity. J.-C. Cassard, ‘Regards sur la violence’, in J.-Y. Carluer, ed., Violence et société en Bretagne et dans les pays celtiques (Brest, 2000), pp. 105–33, reprinted in his La Guerre de succession de Bretagne (Spézet, 2006), pp. 131–57, at pp. 42–4; Bériac-Lainé, ‘Les Prisonniers en Europe’, p. 119. 152 For example, RDP, vol.  iv, pp.  113, 157 (9 June 1372); Monuments du procès de canonisation du Bienheureux Charles de Blois, duc de Bretagne, 1320–1364, F. Plaine, ed. (Saint-Brieuc, 1921), pp. 238– 41, 89 (1369); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 149–53; BnF, PO 970, Danié, 2 (29 December 1425); Livre des miracles, p. 48, no. 94 (1421), pp. 72–3, no. 118 (23 May 1437). 153 Livre des miracles, pp. 43–4, no. 89 (18 July 1421). 154 The following sources bear witness to particular forms of torture. Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. v, p. 103; AN, X1a 9198, fol. 265vo; ADN, B 1897, fol. 103rv (17 April 1414). 155 Registre criminel du Châtelet de Paris du 6 septembre 1389 au 18 mai 1392, H. Duplès-Agier, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1861–4), vol. ii, p. 95; cited by KLW, p. 181.

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Law, ransom and the status of the prisoner of war How many prisoners were killed or died in captivity as a result of their insolvency? It is not easy to tell since, unsurprisingly, the prisoners who survived and paid their ransoms are much more visible in the sources than those unfortunate ones who ended their days unrecorded in prison. Nevertheless, some remarks can be made. First, it is revealing to note that even a nobleman such as the poet Régnier, who held the prestigious office of bailli of Auxerre, expressed his deep concern about the terrible fate of the prisoners who were bankrupt.156 Higherranking prisoners too seem to be concerned by this issue. Second, some sources clearly suggest that executions did take place, and possibly on a regular basis. For instance, in his letter of remission granted by Robert Willoughby, in 1431, Perrot Amiot, a poor Norman labourer, confessed to having served the French of Louviers as ‘varlet de guerre’ (war varlet).157 He participated in several raids that saw the capture and ransom of English prisoners and the execution of others who could not afford their ransoms.158 The register of Les Miracles de Sainte-Catherinede-Fierbois also gives a good insight into this issue. Numerous pilgrims who came to witness the miraculous intervention of Saint Catherine at Fierbois were French prisoners who had escaped their English prisons. The lives of many of them were threatened as a result of their insolvency. Baudet l’Allemant, for instance, was taken prisoner at la Villaines (near Le Mans) in 1421 and kept in a house for the night.159 His captor asked him to pay 300 eo as ransom or else he would die. L’Allemant swore that he could not afford to pay even 20 so. His captor told him that, if that were the case, ‘il le feroit mourir villainement, avant qu’il fust lendemain prime’ (he would make him die horribly before the first hour on the next day), but the prisoner managed to escape. As for Mérigon de La Chapelle, he claimed to have been captured and held captive in Rouen for five years because he could not afford his huge ransom of 500 so.160 He too ultimately managed to escape. One question arises when reading these and other testimonies of a similar kind:161 how many prisoners facing the same difficulties died in prison because they did not manage to escape?

On his capture, captivity and ransom, see Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, pp. 27–32. 157 On war varlets, see note 1. 158 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 154–7, no. 199 (22 July 1431). 159 Livre des miracles, pp. 41–2, no. 87 (6 January 1421). 160 Livre des miracles, p. 100, no. 163 (September 1445). 161 See the testimonies of Jean Remonnet and Olivier du Vergier. Livre des miracles, p. 77, no. 124 (4 November 1438), p. 83, no. 134 (11 May 1443). 156

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Conclusion Conclusion Ransoms and prisoners of war offer a fresh perspective on the laws of war. As we have seen, a model based on the prevalence of the law of arms is not wholly satisfactory.The reality was more complex. Six different sets of principles which had an impact on the issue of prisoners of war have been identified. They form three pairs. The body of military customs that formed the law of arms and the royal ordinances of war governed matters relating exclusively to the masters of prisoners, such as the division of the spoils of war and the ­settlement of disputes among rival claimants to the capture of a prisoner or to the latter’s ransom. The superiors of the captor and his companion-­in-arms were involved in making sure that the rules were observed; any violator exposed himself to legal suit in a relevant French or English court. Everything regarding the life and treatment of prisoners of war mostly fell outside the scope of these laws and, in fact, outside any formal code of law. The law of honour  – in so far as we can talk about it as a ‘law’  – and the law of contract were more centred on the relationship between masters and prisoners with the main purpose of making the ransoming process feasible and efficient. The juxtaposition of these two sets of law appears through the vocabulary of the different contracts and obligations that channelled the process. To some extent, the law of contract appears as a written updating of the law of honour adapted to the reality of the late Middle Ages. Oath-taking, however, remained central to the act of capture, and this may have constituted a source of clashes between nobles and non-nobles during the war. Finally, prisoners’ fates rested upon such unpredictable elements as retaliation and personal greed  – double-edged factors that could lead to loss of life in place of ransoming. However violent this may seem to us, this violence should not command all our attention. What is striking is the considerable legal vacuum surrounding the relationship between masters and prisoner, as we shall see from the following chapters. This constitutes the main feature of the individual and private world in which the practice of ransoming developed in the last two centuries of the Middle Ages.

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Chapter 2

P r i n c e s, m a s t e r s a nd pri so ners

However idealistic Bovet’s recommendation that all prisoners should be handed over to the crown (since war was waged on the king’s behalf and soldiers were in his pay), this principle conferred some authority on any sovereign who might be tempted to use it.1 Indeed, temptation must have been great in many circumstances, where the private interests of the masters clashed with the ambitions of the prince. Many higher-ranking prisoners had a political or strategic value in the eyes of the prince, and rulers did acquire such prisoners from their subjects. Several case studies have been devoted to the political uses of the most prominent captives who fell into the hands of the enemy. Both Philippe Contamine and I myself have proposed a list of the different ways in which the prince used these prisoners.2 It is certainly not a topic that needs further illustration. However, private masters did not easily concede their own rights to ransoms. This chapter explores the freedom of manoeuvre that French and English princes enjoyed in their attempts to acquire particular prisoners of war. The rules for such acquisitions are discussed briefly in the first part, but the core of this chapter is focused on what French and English princes made of these rules and how soldiers responded. There is no space here for a complete survey of each reign. A choice has been made to focus on situations of tension, or even crisis, faced by French and English kings, in order to observe and to compare their attitudes. T he rule s In outward appearance, the rules for the acquisition of prisoners of war were different for French and English subjects. On the English side, these rules were clearly set out in the indentures of war (i.e. contracts of recruitment) sealed between the king and his captains. A set of principles, 1 Bovet, The Tree, pp. 134–5. 

 See pp. 14–15.

2

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The rules according to which the king was entitled to the most prominent enemy lords  – that is, kings, princes of the blood and chief commanders  – is to be found, with minor variations, in virtually all of these documents throughout the war.3 In return, the English crown bound itself to give reasonable compensation to the captors.This right over such prisoners of ‘public standing’ might be further extended according to specific political circumstances. After the treaty of Troyes of 1420, for example, which was the direct outcome of the Anglo-Burgundian alliance, any individual directly or indirectly involved in the murder of John the Fearless at Montereau in September 1419 was added to the category of prisoners who were to be surrendered to the authorities by their captors.4 In all contexts, however, save for prisoners of ‘public interest’, prisoners would remain the private property of those who took them. There was no such indenture system in France. Some information about existing practices can be gleaned from a variety of records. The king’s prosecutor claimed in the Parlement of Paris in 1417 that there were circumstances in which prisoners had to be surrendered to the crown. One such occurred when the enemy was captured in a fortified town within royal obedience: the prisoner could reasonably be suspected to be a spy, and it was therefore in the public interest to hand him over to justice.5 Yet, as we have seen, this argument was contested by David Maignies (Menzies?), the Scottish captor of the prisoner whose fate gave rise to a legal case.The Scotsman argued that the captive should be his since ‘enemy prisoners belong to those who captured them, either in or outside fortified towns, provided that they are not taken on the walls’.6 According to Maignies, this rule had been applied in previous cases involving prisoners taken in Paris, Amiens and elsewhere, and he quoted examples dating back to Robert Knolles’ expedition of 1370. He highlighted that this was also the custom in Calais and its neighbouring area. A further argument was put forward that anyone captured in a town ‘by law of arms’ belonged to the captain of the town. Interestingly, this last ‘rule’ was also put forward in another legal case dating to the same period.7 The sentence given by the court is unfortunately not known but See, for instance, C.T. Allmand, Society at War: The Experience of England and France during the Hundred Years War, Edinburgh, 1973, pp. 58–60; Curry, The Battle of Agincourt, pp. 436–8. 4 See, for instance, Archives Départementales du Calvados, F 1297 (25 December 1421); BnF, Na.Fr. 1482, no. 21 (16 September 1423). I would like to thank Professor Anne Curry for providing me with transcripts of these indentures. 5 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 210rv (18 March 1416); see also P. Contamine, ‘The Growth of State Control: Practices of War, 1300–1800  – Ransom and Booty’, in P. Contamine, ed., War and Competition Between States (Oxford, 2000), pp. 164–93, at p. 170. 6 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 210ro. See also p. 31. 7 AN, X2a 18, fol. 15v (16 December 1423). 3

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Princes, masters and prisoners what nevertheless emerges from these cases is that rules on royal rights were anything but firm and established. There are other traces of a system of princely acquisition of prisoners of war in return for payments of compensation to captors. An old custom, which seems to have applied in the case of Joan of Arc in 1430, fixed at 10,000 fo the maximum amount that the king would have to pay to acquire any prisoner in the hands of his subjects.8 The problem is that there is no other known instance in which this custom was applied. Yet this figure of 10,000 fo does appear as a sort of threshold in different sources. Maurice Keen mentions a contract between Jean d’Armagnac and Ramonet de Sort in 1389 according to which Armagnac would only be entitled to a portion of booty and ransoms equivalent to, or exceeding, 10,000 fo.9 More revealingly, Christine de Pizan referred in her Book of Fayttes of Armes and of Chyvalrye to an intriguing old custom according to which every gain exceeding 10,000 fo, ‘the whiche thynge be it a prysoner or other good moevable’, would be handed over to the French king.10 An English indenture of war between John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and Thomas Percy, dated 1386, stipulated that the duke would have all prisoners worth over 10,000 fo in ransom on payment of that same sum to the captor.11 This suggests that this custom crossed the Channel, presumably from France to England through the English king’s experiences as ruler of lands in France. Finally, Bonet mentioned in The Tree of Battles that a prisoner in danger of death could ransom himself for 10,000 fo, implying that his captors could not reject such an offer.12 French captains, it was claimed in court in 1450, were entitled to a tenth of the ransom of each prisoner taken by their men; alternatively, they could acquire any of these prisoners as long as they paid the amount of their ransoms to the captor.13 If captains enjoyed such a right, we might expect their kings to do so too. French and English rules meet at this point: every prince was entitled to every prisoner in return for money, On Joan of Arc’s capture and purchase, see the discussion in P. Tisset, ‘Capture et rançon de Jeanne d’Arc’, Revue d’Histoire du Droit Français et Étranger, 4th series, 46 (1968), 63–9, at p. 64 and n. 2. An order to levy 10,000 lt in taxation in Normandy for the purchase of Joan was issued on 13 September 1430. BL, Add. Ch. 10976.  9 KLW, p. 147 n. 5. 10 The Book of Fayttes of Armes and of Chyualrye (translated and printed by Willam Caxton from the original French of Christine de Pizan), A. T. P. Byles, ed. (Oxford, 1937), p. 219. 11 TNA, E 101/68/10, no. 250. Within a month of this contract, three conditions were cancelled ‘except that the duke was to have possession of any commander or member of the Castilian royal family captured’. TNA, SC1/51/26. These documents are discussed in S. Walker, The Lancastrian Affinity, 1361–1399 (Oxford, 1990), p. 71. 12 Bovet, The Tree, pp. 153–4. 13 ‘Les capitaines ont grans droiz comme le 10e sur chacun prisonnier ou prendre le prisonnier en payant la finance’: AN, X1a 4802, fol. 198r (3 March 1450).  8

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Edward III, Henry IV and the ‘Scottish question’ and there is reason to believe that private masters were not unwilling to sell their prisoners so long as the prince paid the right price.Whether this payment was called ransom or financial compensation, it would give rise to a due contract of purchase that bound the two parties.14 These contracts could be particularly detailed. Take, for instance, the contract, in indenture form, between John of Gaunt and Sir John Dageny for the purchase in October 1367 of a French prisoner in Dageny’s hands: Jean de Neville from Picardy.15 Gaunt agreed to pay 500 marks sterling for the prisoner in two instalments of 250 marks sterling each: the first by Easter 1368 and the second by the following Michaelmas. There were, however, conditions to this agreement. If the prisoner died before the following Christmas without having paid his ‘finance’ in full, Gaunt’s obligation towards Dageny would be cancelled. If the prisoner died between Christmas and Easter without having paid his ransom in full, the duke would have to pay only £166. If he died after Easter, irrespective of whether the ransom had been paid or not, the duke would be obliged to pay Dageny the total amount of money, that is, £333.16 This obligation for the French and English princes to pay for the prisoners they wished to acquire could prove to be costly, and sometimes too costly, as we shall see. Th e ‘Scottish que stion’: E dward I I I and H e nry I V The first comparison, between Edward III and Henry IV, is set in a different theatre of war: the Anglo-Scottish marches. If the wars between England and Scotland do not stand at the heart of the Hundred Years War, the fate of the three kingdoms – France, England and Scotland – were closely intertwined at that period. (The ‘auld alliance’ between France and Scotland had been sealed against their common enemy, England.) They thus offer an interesting point of comparison. The main reason for this shift in focus stems from the overt and spectacular clash between a sovereign, Henry IV, and one of his subjects, Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy, over the acquisition of the latter’s prisoner of war, Archibald, 4th earl of Douglas, a clash which is unique. This incident has already been closely examined by historians who have tried to piece together all the elements that led to the Percies’ rebellion and to their ultimate defeat at the The establishment of such contracts dates back, at the very least, to the battle of Poitiers. See Foedera, vol. vi, p. 2 (12 February 1357); Poitiers, pp. 168–9, 172–3; Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners of War’, pp. 815–16. 15 TNA, DL 27/218 (17 October 1367). 16 Such provisions may indicate that the prisoner was not in good health (and that the duke did not want to lose his money). 14

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Princes, masters and prisoners battle of Shrewsbury in 1403.17 The following paragraphs offer a different approach, as this conflict of interest will be put in the perspective of the attempts of Edward III and Henry IV to secure peace on the northern marches through their acquisition and handling of Scottish prisoners of war, after the battle of Neville’s Cross (1346) and Humbleton Hill (1402) respectively. Edward III and the prisoners of Neville’s Cross, 1346 By and large, this pressing need to secure advantageous peace with Scotland resulted in sustained interference by English kings in the issue of Scottish prisoners of war. This clearly manifests itself in the second half of the fourteenth century.18 In this respect, Edward III’s handling of the Scottish prisoners after Neville’s Cross (October 1346) provides a useful example of a powerful monarch who had the means and authority to achieve his ambitions.19 A rich haul of Scottish prisoners had been captured at this battle, in addition to David II.They certainly represented a good prospect for profit for their captors, but the king had other plans. In November 1346, Edward III proclaimed that no masters should ransom their prisoners without his licence.20 They were ordered to bring their captives to London where they were to hand them over to the king in return for financial compensation.The king met resistance. Some masters claimed that their prisoners had (quite conveniently) escaped; others simply failed to report their capture. In December, Edward set up commissions to investigate these cases. Those who had allowed their prisoners to escape were imprisoned and forfeited their goods to the

J. M. W. Bean, ‘Henry IV and the Percies’, History, 44 (1959), 212–27, at pp. 224–5; P. McNiven, ‘The Scottish Policy of the Percies and the Strategy of the Rebellion of 1403’, BJRUL, 62 (1979– 80), 498–530; see also more recently, M. Arvanigian, ‘The “Lancastrianization” of the North in the Reign of Henry IV, 1399–1413’, in D. L. Biggs, S. D. Michalove and A. Compton Reeves, eds., Reputation and Representation in Fifteenth-Century Europe (Leiden, 2004), pp. 9–38. 18 Edward III and Henry IV will be at the centre of this discussion but it is interesting to note in passing that Richard II showed similar inclinations towards controlling the ransoming of Scottish prisoners of war. In February 1386, the Earl of Northumberland was empowered to grant safe-conducts to Scottish prisoners but not to release them without the king’s licence. Rotuli Scotiae in turri Londinensi et in domo capitulari Westmonasteriensi, 2 vols. (London, 1814–19), vol. ii, p. 79. Towards the end of the same year, Richard II sealed an agreement with the earl for the acquisition of one of his Scottish prisoners, Paton Herring.TNA, E 101/40/30 (14 November 1386); quoted in J. A. Tuck, ‘War and Society in the Medieval North’, Northern History, 21 (1985), 33–52, at pp. 44–5; see also A. J. Macdonald, Border Bloodshed: Scotland and England at War, 1369–1403 (East Linton, 2000), pp. 93–4. 19 What follows is largely inspired by the study of Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, pp. 809–14. 20 Foedera (PRO), vol. iii/i, p. 94 (20 November 1346). 17

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Edward III, Henry IV and the ‘Scottish question’ king, but many were subsequently pardoned.21 These commissions may have failed to reveal every captive Scot, as King argues, but by early 1347 many, including David II, had been brought to London as Edward had ordered.22 Whilst the king subsequently ransomed David II and other captives, Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson have shown that the quest for profit was most probably not his main aim.23 The ransoming of David must be considered in the light of rejected peace proposals made by Edward III in 1349–50 and 1354. Ransoming, and thereby recognising, David II as rightful king of Scotland should thus be seen as an alternative way of securing peace and stability on the border. Political motivations rather than profit are also revealed through the conditions for release of other captives. Four knights close to David regained their freedom without paying any ransom in return for a promise not to bear arms against Edward again. Three Scottish lords were released after agreeing to recognise Edward Baillol as king in 1347, long before Edward decided to recognise David II as king for the sake of peace and security. The break of such a promise could cost them their lives.Two Scottish prisoners who had previously sworn to support Baillol and failed to keep their word were condemned to death as traitors: one of them, Duncan, Earl of Fife, was pardoned, because of his kinship with the English king. As BériacLainé and Given-Wilson put it, uppermost in Edward’s mind was the need to settle the ‘Scottish question’.What he had to do was to force men out of war, to remove them from the equation … What is more, it was successful: for some four decades following Neville’s Cross, the Anglo-Scottish border enjoyed much greater peace and stability than it had during the previous half-century.24

However simple or basic it may seem, the key to this political success relied on the obedience of the masters who eventually agreed to deliver their prisoners to the crown. They respected Edward’s authority and, in general, were handsomely rewarded for this.25 21 Rotuli Scotiae, vol.  i, pp.  685–6, 706; Foedera (PRO), vol.  iii/i, p.  98; CCR 1346–9, pp.  311, 547; CPR 1345–8, p. 363; Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, pp. 809–10; King, ‘“According to the Custom”’, pp. 281–2. 22 King, ‘“According to the Custom”’, p.  282; Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, p. 810. 23 Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, pp. 810–12. 24 Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, p. 814. 25 Edward III paid £200 to Thomas York for the acquisition of the earl of Menteith (who was executed); 800 marks to Robert Bertram for the earl of Wigtown and William Wallace; a pension of no less than 700 marks to Thomas de Lucy for Douglas MacDowell and his son. In one particular case, the ransom that the prisoner eventually paid to the king was inferior to the price of purchase. Edward paid £266 for the acquisition of Walter de Haliburton who was ransomed for

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Princes, masters and prisoners Henry IV, Hotspur and Humbleton Hill, 1402 Full-scale war between England and Scotland had resumed by the mid-1380s. First the scales tipped in favour of the Scots, who won a notable victory at Otterburn (August 1388), but the tide turned in the first years of Henry IV’s reign.26 Many Scots fell into English hands between 1400 and 1403. What would be the position of the new king? Much like his predecessors, Edward III and Richard II,27 Henry opted for a strongly intrusive policy towards the issue of Scottish prisoners of war. The king already had the opportunity to enforce it two years before Humbleton Hill. Less than a month after the Scottish defeat at Reidswire on 30 October 1400, Henry ordered the English masters of Sir Richard Rutherford, his sons (variously numbered from three to five), John Turnbull (nicknamed ‘Out wyth swerde’ [Out with sword]) and any other Scottish commanders not to free or ransom their captives but to keep them in custody until further notice.28 The king’s purpose was not to make profit out of these prisoners but to secure political advantages, as the subsequent fate of the Rutherfords suggests. A month later, John Mosdale, sergeant-at-arms, was instructed to bring Rutherford, his three sons and Turnbull ‘with all speed to the king’s person’.29 After a two-year-long captivity in the Tower of London, Rutherford and one of his sons (the other two having most probably been released already) were surrendered on 9 November 1402 to the earl of Northumberland, who would keep them safely until they did their homage to the king, as they had offered to do.30 Rutherford’s decision to pay homage was undoubtedly precipitated by the recent crushing defeat of the Scots at Humbleton Hill which had taken place only a few months before on 14 September 1402. ‘What more can be said? The flower as it were of the fighting men of the whole realm of Scotland was captured and ransomed.’ These are £200. Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, pp. 811–14. Some of these compensations may seem relatively modest but they would still represent a great amount of money for their captors. See p. 113–15. 26 For a detailed account of the Anglo-Scottish wars in that period see Macdonald, Border Bloodshed, pp. 75–160. 27 On Richard II, see n. 18. 28 About the order, see Foedera, vol. viii, p. 162; CCR 1399–1402, p. 220 (30 October 1400). See also about this battle and their capture, A. Usk, Chronicle, 1377–1421, C. Given-Wilson, ed. (Oxford, 1997), p. 101 and n. 4; J. Hardyng, Chronicle, H. Ellis, ed. (London, 1812), p. 355; Macdonald, Border Bloodshed, pp. 134–5. Harding mentions five sons captured at Reidswire, but only three were taken to London. They may have been quickly released (the rest of the family cautioning the payment of their ransom) or the chronicler was mistaken. 29 CCR 1399–1402, p. 226; TNA, E 404/16/345 (2 December 1400). 30 CCR 1402–5, p. 2 (9 November 1402).

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Edward III, Henry IV and the ‘Scottish question’ the chronicler Walter Bower’s pitiful words, which bring to a close his chapter on the battle of Humbleton Hill.31 More dramatic is the recent assessment of Macdonald for whom ‘Humbleton was not the defeat of a magnate faction; it was the annihilation of the Scottish nation in arms.’32 Many Scottish soldiers died during the battle but many others were captured. Among the most important were Archibald, 4th earl of Douglas, Murdoch Stewart, 2nd duke of Albany, Thomas Dunbar, 2nd earl of Moray, and George, earl of Angus.33 In the light of the way he had dealt with the prisoners of Reidswire, Henry’s express orders to hand over the captives to him do not come as a surprise. His instructions to the earl of Northumberland, issued on 22 September, less than two weeks after the battle, betray his strong eagerness. To Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland and warden of the ‘Westmarche’ towards Scotland … Strict order, for urgent causes now moving the king, not to put to ransom any Scotsman or any other of whatsoever dignity, estate, degree or nation there taken, who is in the earl’s custody, upon any oath or security or upon any pretence until further order, but it is not the king’s intent that the earl or any other liege be hereby barred or defrauded of any right now or hereafter claimed upon the person or property of any such prisoners of war; and order to cause this to be published in every place within the march that others who were present in the expedition may observe the effect of the king’s command and intent, and to cause the same to be kept.34

That the king thought it necessary to specify, as noted in the italicised section, that it was not his intent to despoil the masters from their right to their prisoners is intriguing. This formula is rather unusual. What is usually found in such orders is the king’s reassurance that the masters of the prisoners would receive some compensation.35 This may suggest that Henry did not necessarily intend to acquire the prisoners. But he certainly wished them to remain in captivity until further notice, ensuring the captors at the same time that they would be able to enjoy their rights to ransom in due time. Henry IV’s finances were particularly low at that time, and there is thus reasonable ground to question the king’s ability W. Bower, Scotichronicon, D. E. R. Watt, ed., 9 vols. (Aberdeen, 1987–98), vol. viii, p. 49. 32 Macdonald, Border Bloodshed, p. 154. 33 Bower provides the names of twenty-nine Scottish prisoners. Bower, Scotichronicon, vol.  viii, p. 49. 34 CCR 1399–1402, p. 552 (22 September 1402). 35 For instance, see Edward’s order after Neville’s Cross: ‘set quod omnes et singuli dictae ballivae tuae, huiusmodi prisonarii habentes, cum eisdem prisonibus apud London personaliter accedant, ibidem cum concilio nostro super satisfactione, eis pro prisonibus illis facienda, tractaturi, et facturi quod ibidem super hoc contigerit ordinari’. Foedera (PRO), vol. iii/i, p. 94 (20 November 1346). 31

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Princes, masters and prisoners to afford financial compensation for all these important, and therefore expensive, captives.36 The earl of Northumberland ‘and several lords and other Englishmen’ complied with the royal orders and brought their prisoners to the king at Westminster on 20 October.37 The theatrical staging of the Scots’ appearance before the English monarch enthroned in the White Chamber, which resembled a ritual of submission (the prisoners knelt three times), was most probably intended to impress the parliament.38 Nevertheless, as Chris Given-Wilson remarked, ‘few can have failed to notice the absence of the most eminent Scottish prisoner, the earl of Douglas.’39 In fact, the prisoners of Humbleton Hill, in general, were conspicuous by their absence. Beside Murdoch Stewart, eldest son of the duke of Albany (first in Bower’s list of prisoners), only three had been brought before the king and certainly not the most important ones: Sir Adam Forrester (twentieth in the list), Sir John Montgomery and Sir William Graham (not named).40 We know that the earl of Douglas was in the hands of Hotspur, who had overtly defied the authority of the king in keeping his captive – an act for which Hardyng laconically reported that Hotspur was ‘blamed’.41 But what about all the other masters and their prisoners? Did they all challenge Henry’s orders? In comparison with Edward III, Henry does not seem to have issued further orders, or threats, or set up commissions of enquiry. At the same time, evidence of Humbleton Hill prisoners in Henry’s hands is scant. Apart from the four handed over to the king in parliament, evidence shows that William Lillebourne had surrendered the earl of Moray to the king who, in recompense, granted to him some of Hotspur’s forfeited lands in July 1405.42 In addition, one John Bennet, who had become the king’s liege by 27 November 1402 and who received royal protection provided that each of his children on coming of age would do homage to Henry IV, had possibly been captured at Humbleton.43 36 A. Steel, The Receipt of the Exchequer, 1377–1485 (Cambridge, 1954), pp. 86–7; Bean, ‘Henry IV and the Percies’, p. 223; G. L. Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort: A Study of Lancastrian Ascendancy and Decline (Oxford, 1988), p. 19. 37 PROME, vol. viii, pp. 162–3. 38 The prisoners knelt three times, first at the door of the White Chamber, second in the middle of the room and third before the king, and then asked Henry that they be treated ‘honestly and graciously as is appropriate to an act of war and of arms’. PROME, vol. viii, p. 162. 39 PROME, vol. viii, p. 155. 40 In addition to three French prisoners: Sir Jacques de Heilly, Sir Pierre de Hazars and the esquire Jean Dormie. PROME, vol. viii, p. 163. 41 Hardyng, Chronicle, pp. 361. 42 CPR 1405–8, p. 68 (5 July 1405). 43 CPR 1402–5, p. 183 (27 November 1402); Macdonald, Border Bloodshed, p. 157.

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Charles V, Charles VII and the weight of alliances Could it be the case that many masters of prisoners refused to comply with orders and that Henry turned a blind eye to this issue? Or should we consider that Henry could simply not afford to pay for these prisoners, since, as we have noted, his finances were in a poor state? It is the case that a powerful magnate, Hotspur, stood up against the king on the highly volatile issue of prisoners of war, and the king, as a recent usurper, was not in a strong enough position to curb this recalcitrant subject and his followers. In contrast, Edward III, whose authority was firmly established, did not meet major obstacles in his handling of the masters and prisoners of Neville’s Cross. It is tempting to draw parallels between the political achievements of the two kings following these two victories, highlighting how central the issue of prisoners was, but it would be irrelevant since Henry IV eventually managed to get hold of Douglas after the battle of Shrewsbury, in 1403, and Prince James of Scotland fell into his hands in 1406.44 If he failed to secure ‘forty years of peace’ – and there is hardly any doubt that he shared the same view on Scotland as his predecessor Edward III – it was because the political situation in both England and Scotland was very different. The weight of an alliance: C har le s V and Charle s VII Charles V and the Franco-Castilian alliance in 1372 Some victories fell remarkably short of positive outcomes for the victors. Nájera (April 1367) is one good example.45 The victorious Black Prince, allied with Pedro I ‘the Cruel’, returned to Aquitaine crippled with debts and was forced to raise unpopular taxes, which would eventually lead to Gascon appeals to the French king in June 1368.What is more, Enrique de Trastamara’s defeat and refuge in France was the origin of a century-long Franco-Castilian alliance.46 A treaty was sealed in Toledo in November On Douglas’s capture and captivity, see M. Brown, The Black Douglases: War and Lordship in Late Medieval Scotland, 1300–1455 (East Linton, 1998), pp. 105–11. On James I’s capture and captivity, see M. Brown, The Stewart Dynasty in Scotland, James I (East Linton, 1994), pp. 17–31. 45 For a recent account and appraisal of the battle of Nájera, see the extensive study of A. Villalon, ‘Spanish Involvement in the Hundred Years War and the Battle of Nájera’, in A.Villalon and D. J. Kagay, eds., The Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus (Leiden, 2005), pp. 3–57. 46 A detailed and informative account of this alliance is provided by G. Daumet, Étude sur l’alliance de la France et de la Castille aux XIVe et XVe siècles (Paris, 1898). A. Rucquoi focuses more on Franco-Castilian representations mainly through fourteenth- and fifteenth-century literature in ‘La France dans l’historiographie médiévale castillane’, Annales: Économies, Sociétés et Civilisations, 44 (1989), 677–87, and in ‘De Jeanne d’Arc à Isabelle la Catholique: l’image de la France en Castille au XVe siècle’, Journal des Savants, 1990, 155–74. See also her study of ‘Une internationale chevaleresque’, in La ‘France anglaise’ au moyen âge: actes du 111e congrès national des sociétés savantes (Poitiers, 1986) (Paris, 1988), pp. 401–19. 44

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Princes, masters and prisoners 1368 and later ratified by Charles V in April 1369.47 Its terms anticipated that they would support each other in their respective wars against their enemies. Of particular interest for us are the clauses relating to prisoners and spoils of war: the capture of Pedro or of any English prince of the blood would lead to a special agreement between the two parties. Any other spoils of war – including prisoners – taken upon the sea or on dry land when the admirals of France and Castile navigated in convoy would be split into two equal parts; conversely, when the two men operated separately, all the profits and prisoners would remain in the hands of the admiral in command.48 According to Rucquoi, the events that unfolded over the next twenty years show that the terms of the treaty had been fully respected.49 But had they really? There was a possible fly in the ointment: Soubise, August 1372. The year 1372 was marked by Franco-Castilian success in war. The most notable event was the naval battle of La Rochelle, where a Castilian fleet commanded by the admiral Antonio de Boccanegra defeated the English under John Hastings, earl of Pembroke.50 It was a resounding victory for the Castilians acting alone. A French fleet commanded by Owen of Wales was supposed to join them, but the battle was over by the time it arrived.51 A rich haul of English and Gascon lords, including the earl of Pembroke himself, was captured and taken home by the Spanish.52 47 The treaty is published in Foedera, vol. vi, pp. 598–602. It is described and commented upon in Daumet, Étude, pp. 29–31; Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iii, pp. 465–7. 48 ‘Item, volumus quod, quamdiu dicti admiralli commitiva navigabunt insimul, quicquid super inimicos, tam in terra quam in mari acquisiverint inter ipsos dous admirallos per medium dividetur, aequali portione distribuendum … Quippe cum dicti admiralli non comitive sed particulatim navigabunt, quicquid eorum alter … acquisiverit erit suum’. Foedera, vol. viii, p. 600. 49 Rucquoi, ‘Une internationale’, p. 402. 50 For an account of the battle, see C. de la Roncière, Histoire de la marine française, 6 vols. (Paris, 1909–32), vol. ii, pp. 15–18; Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iv, pp. 410–16; J. W. Sherborne, ‘The Battle of La Rochelle and the War at Sea, 1372–5’, HR, 42 (1969), 17–29. 51 Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iv, pp. 410–11. Rucquoi (‘Une internationale’, p. 402) suggests that a French fleet under the command of Aimery de Narbonne took part in the battle. I found no trace of this in the sources, which celebrate (or lament) La Rochelle as a Castilian victory. On Owen of Wales, see A. D. Carr, ‘Owen of Wales [Owain ap Thomas ap Rhodri] (d. 1378), mercenary’ in ODNB. 52 The Chronique des règnes de Jean II et de Charles V, R. Delachenal, ed., 4 vols. (Paris, 1910–20), vol. ii, p. 165) provides the highest figure with more than 160 prisoners captured and ransomed by the Spanish. The Castilian chronicler Lopez de Ayala (Crónicas de los Reyes de Castilla, C. Rosell, ed., 3 vols. [Madrid, 1875–8], vol. ii, p. 12) mentions seventy knights with golden spurs who were taken to Spain. Froissart (SHF, vol. viii, p. 99) provides the names of eleven English and Gascon lords and adds that another ‘dis et set chevaliers, tous de nom’ had been captured. One other name could be added to his list: John Bakepus de Barton who was taken prisoner while fighting in the retinue of Pembroke, as mentioned in his letter of protection issued on 23 May 1373. TNA, C 76/56, m. 22. On the fate of these prisoners and others falling into Castilian hands in the 1370s, see Ambühl, ‘Reversal of Fortunes’, pp. 191–207.

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Charles V, Charles VII and the weight of alliances The rules had been followed. The Castilians had operated on their own; therefore, the prisoners were theirs.Yet Pembroke’s case raises questions. As a stepson of Edward III, one might expect him to be counted among the princes of the blood whose fate would be the subject of negotiations between the French and Castilian monarchs. Although there is no formal trace of such negotiations, the decision to hand over Pembroke to Bertrand Du Guesclin in exchange for Spanish lordships in the latter’s hands may have been negotiated between the two kings.53 Had it not been, Charles V could hardly disagree with such a transfer, which placed the earl in French hands. The battle of La Rochelle thus provides a good example of a smooth application of the treaty of alliance. Soubise is a very different story. Two months after La Rochelle, in August 1372, the French, making good progress in their reconquest of the province of Saintonge, laid siege to the town of Soubise at the mouth of La Charente.54 As soon as the captal de Buch heard of this, he came to the rescue of the town. A battle started outside the walls and ended in the streets of Soubise on 23 August. The English were vanquished, the town recaptured, and the captal, as well as many other powerful English and Gascon lords, was taken prisoner. We have two different versions of these events. Froissart and Lopez de Ayala’s versions are along the same lines, disassociating themselves from the author of the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois.55 Delachenal highlighted the effect of surprise created by the arrival of Owen of Wales and the Spanish which we find only in Froissart and Ayala.56 More compelling is the fact that the Spanish simply do not appear in the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois. Given the level of detail of the account provided in this chronicle, it is surprising not to find any mention of them, for we know for certain that they took part in this encounter. There is reason to wonder, therefore, whether the author had a hidden agenda. This may well have been the case. It is helpful to look deeper into this incident. The author of the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois reported that in the aftermath of the battle the captal de Buch was taken into a barge and entrusted to Morelet de Montmor’s guard, but does not provide further explanation.57 Why 53 Other prisoners were also surrendered to Du Guesclin for the same purpose. On this agreement, see Ayala, Crónicas, vol. ii, p. 36. On Pembroke’s ransom, the steps taken for its payment and the problems raised by his sudden death in 1376, see Letters, Orders and Musters, no. 633, 635, 644, 648, 660, 725, 747–9, 752, 921. 54 A concise account of this battle is provided in Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iv, pp. 427–9. 55 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 67–70; Ayala, Crónicas, vol. ii, pp. 13–14; Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, pp. 238–41. 56 Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iv, p. 428. 57 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 241.

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Princes, masters and prisoners would the prisoner be taken off shore? Froissart offers the start of an explanation, when he reports that Owen of Wales and all those who had prisoners in their hands were taken to another ship by La Rochelle, ‘car envis les euissent perdus’ (for envy would have caused their loss).58 What lies behind these rather enigmatic words? A surviving piece of financial accountancy drawn up by the two brothers Jacques and Morelet de Montmor sheds more light on this question.59 Six days after the battle, the brothers received a letter from the king requesting them to do everything in their power to bring the captal to him.60 This was not, however, to the liking of the Spaniards, who claimed their share in the ownership of the prestigious captive. A violent argument must have erupted, as the brothers decided to take prisoners and masters on a barge to the isle of Oléron ‘pour garder sauvement et seurement les diz prisonniers’ (to keep the said prisoners safe and secure).61 At the end of the day, the Spanish would never see the captal again: he was taken to Paris where he died in captivity.62 The author of the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois may have omitted to mention the Spanish involvement in this affair in a deliberate attempt to preserve the reputation of the French king, who had treated his allies badly on this occasion. This is not, however, what the letter of the king of Castile to his city of Murcia, issued on 27 September 1372, suggests.63 In this document, Enrique II informed the city about the recent Franco-Castilian success in war and of the capture of the captal and many other knights of great value. There is no mention of any dispute. On the contrary, Enrique concluded that the Castilians had received their fair share of the spoils of war and that the French king should be praised for his reliability. Should this testimony be taken at face value? Are we not faced with a piece of propaganda? Enrique, who had recently borrowed money from Murcia for the repurchase of lands in the hands of Du Guesclin, may have felt the need to reassure the city’s rulers that they would see their money back.64 Taken at face value, this letter suggests that Charles V had given compensation to the Castilians. This possibility cannot be excluded. Had they eventually been paid Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 70. 59 AN, J 475, no. 100/1–7, published in Chronique de Jean II et Charles V, vol. iii, pp. 163–8. 60 AN, J 475, no. 100/6; Jean II et Charles V, vol. iii, p. 166 (29 August 1372). 61 The brothers did so ‘pour obvier au debat et murmure des diz Espaignolz’. The Montmor brothers make it clear that the threat they faced was not just verbal, for, talking about the Spanish, they mentioned that they had to ‘resister a leur entreprinse’. Jean II et Charles V, vol. iii, p.167. 62 The account includes the expenses of the convoy to Paris. Jean II et Charles V, vol. iii, pp. 168–76. 63 The letter is published in Ayala, Crónicas, vol. ii, p. 13 n. 3; from F. Cascales, Discursos historicos de la muy noble y muy real ciudad de Murcia (Murcia, 1642). 64 Letters, Orders and Musters, no. 562 (20 June 1373). 58

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Charles V, Charles VII and the weight of alliances or not, this episode clearly shows that Charles V felt strong enough to impose his will on his ally. Charles VII and the auld alliance, 1419–24 The Dauphin Charles (the future Charles VII) faced an alarming situation in 1418–20.65 Charles VI, the reigning king, was ill and not able to reign; civil war between Armagnacs and Burgundians raged; and Henry V had conquered Normandy.The dauphin managed to flee the capital in extremis, before it was taken over by the Burgundians in 1418. Following the murder of his political rival, John the Fearless, in 1419 and the sealing of the treaty of Troyes in 1420, he was engaged in a full-scale war against a strong Anglo-Burgundian alliance. The dauphin could not count on the support of the duke of Brittany, who sided with the English, and the dukes of Orléans and Bourbon were in captivity in England. Even his ability to draw fully on the potential military resources of the areas under his own command is questionable. Without doubt, the dauphin needed the assistance of foreign troops. This time the Castilians turned a deaf ear to his appeal, but he was more successful with the ‘auld’ allies of the French, the Scots. The five years between 1419 and 1424 are unique in the long history of the ‘auld alliance’ as they witnessed the recruitment and landing on French soil, through three successive waves (1419, 1421, 1424), of an autonomous ‘Army of Scotland’. Figures are debated among historians. It seems reasonable to adopt Ditcham’s conservative estimate of no more than 10,000 Scotsmen over the whole five years.66 In any case, there is little doubt that the Scottish contingent constituted the core of the 65 This paragraph is largely inspired by two works: B. Ditcham, ‘The Employment of Foreign Mercenary Troops in the French Royal Armies, 1415–70’, unpublished Ph.D. thesis (University of Edinburgh, 1978), Chapters 2 and 4 (a very valuable and in-depth study which, if unfortunately not available in print, is available at http://web.archive.org/web/20101229212422/ http://www.deremilitari.org/resources/articles/ditcham1.htm; accessed on 19 August 2012) and B. Chevalier, ‘Les Écossais dans les armées de Charles VII jusqu’à la bataille de Verneuil’, in P. Contamine, ed., Jeanne d’Arc, une époque, un rayonnement, colloque d’histoire médiévale (Orléans, octobre 1979) (Paris, 1982), pp. 85–94. Surprisingly (or perhaps not since the book is about Joan of Arc), Chevalier concludes along nationalistic lines that ultimately ‘le salut du royaume de France ne pouvait venir d’Écosse’ (p. 94). See also, from the same author, ‘Les Alliés écossais au service du roi de France au XVe siècle’, in J. Laidlaw, ed., The Auld Alliance: France and Scotland over 700 years (Edinburgh, 1999), pp. 47–57; F. Michel, Les Écossais en France, les Français en Écosse, 2 vols. (London, 1862), vol. i, pp. 133–79. For a more general account of the old alliance, see E. Bonner, ‘Scotland’s “Auld Alliance” with France, 1295–1560’, History, 84 (1999), 5–30, and the more complete study of N. Macdougall, An Antidote to the English: The Auld Alliance, 1295–1560 (East Linton, 2001). 66 Ditcham, ‘The Employment’, p. 181.

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Princes, masters and prisoners dauphin’s force during these troubled years for the French monarchy. This heavy reliance on the Scottish ally is seen through the financing of their army. Despite the dreadful state of the dauphin’s finances, the Scottish commanders were duly paid for the men they claimed to have in their retinues; the numbers and suitability of their soldiers were not even checked.67 When he ran out of money, the dauphin borrowed from his supporters, such as Tanguy du Châtel, or disbanded French troops, to maintain the Scottish ally.68 How would this privileged treatment of the Scottish ally affect the issue of prisoners of war? The seizure of the town of Vallières (Vallières-la-Grande) near Tours in April 1420 is a striking example of its deep impact. A quittance issued at the end of that month reveals that a Pierre de Vignes had travelled from Blois to Châteaudun, Ylliers (Ylliers-Combrais) and elsewhere for the delivery to the Scotsmen of the Burgundian prisoners.69 The count of Vertus, a loyal supporter of the dauphin, had ordered the prisoners to be given ‘ausdiz escossoys, se la dicte place de Vallieres povoit par eulx ester prinse d’assault, affin de tousjours les entretenir ou service du Roy notre seigneur [Charles VI] et de monseigneur le regent [dauphin Charles]’ (to the said Scotsmen, if they could take the place by force, in order to maintain them always at the service of the king our lord and my lord the regent). In other words, enemy prisoners had been graciously surrendered to the Scottish ally as an extra reward for their services to the French crown and in the hope of maintaining their support in the future. That said, there were no significant lords taken prisoner at Vallières. It was a small town, and its storming did not leave any trace in chronicles. Would the dauphin be as compliant when more powerful and wealthy English lords were involved? The Franco-Scottish victory at the battle of Baugé (22 March 1421) offers a valuable insight into this question.70 The three most prominent English prisoners were in the hands of three Scottish soldiers: (1) John Beaufort, earl of Somerset, in the hands of Laurence Vernon; (2) Thomas Beaufort, his younger brother, in those of John Stuart of Darnley; and (3) John Holland, earl of Huntingdon, in those of John Stuart, earl of 67 Ditcham, ‘The Employment’, p. 59. 68 Ditcham, ‘The Employment’, p. 97, 149; B. Ditcham, ‘“Mutton Guzzlers and Wine Bags”: Foreign Soldiers and Native Reactions in Fifteenth-Century France’, in C. T. Allmand, ed., Power, Culture and Religion in France c. 1350–c. 1550 (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 1–13, at p. 4. For all the extra donations to the Scottish leaders, see also Francisque-Michel, Les Écossais en France, vol. i, pp. 128–30, 142–3. 69 BL, Add. Ch. 11459 (30 April 1420). 70 For a recent account of the battle and its consequences, see J. D. Milner, ‘The Battle of Baugé, March 1421: Impact and Memory’, History, 91 (2006), 484–507.

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Charles V, Charles VII and the weight of alliances Buchan.71 At the same time, on the other side of the Channel, the dukes of Orléans and Bourbon and the counts of Eu and Vendôme had been languishing in prison for six years since their capture at Agincourt in 1415. There was room for negotiations between the two crowns with view to an exchange of prisoners. This is an option that the dauphin must have contemplated, Orléans and Eu being two of his supporters. Yet these negotiations never took place for two main reasons. First, the death and legacy of Henry V: the late king’s last will had laid down that the Agincourt prisoners should remain in captivity until his son came of age.72 Second, the dauphin would have needed to get hold of the English prisoners, but this was only partially achieved, at great cost. John Holland and Thomas Beaufort remained in private hands. In 1423, John Cornwall managed to recover his rights over the count of Vendôme, who had been taken from him by Henry V after Agincourt without any compensation. Vendôme purchased Buchan’s right over John Holland (Cornwall’s stepson), and a complex transaction took place that eventually led to the liberation of Vendôme, Holland and two other French prisoners, Raoul de Gaucourt and Jean d’Estouteville, in 1425.73 There is no trace of Thomas Beaufort until March 1427 when he was part of an agreement with his elder brother John that aimed at organising an exchange of prisoners between themselves and the duke of Bourbon.74 However, this exchange never took place. Whether Bourbon had the ownership of Thomas Beaufort at that time is not totally clear. Three years later, in February 1430, we know for certain that Thomas Earliest evidence of Thomas Beaufort in the hands of the marshal of Scotland is to be found in BL, Add. Ch. 3552 (23 May 1421). According to the Scotichronicon (vol. viii, p. 121), Laurence Vernon and John Sibbald were the captors of, respectively, John Beaufort and John Holland. Vernon’s ownership of Beaufort is confirmed by many other records (see pp. 68–9). However, in a letter written at midnight on the eve of the battle, the earl of Buchan announced to the dauphin that ‘le conte de Hantiton est mon prisonnier’. Letter published in G. du Fresne de Beaucourt, Histoire de Charles VII, 6 vols. (Paris, 1881–91), vol. i, pp. 220–1 (22 March 1421). Either the chronicler was mistaken or the prisoner was taken by Sibbald and passed on straight away to the earl of Buchan. 72 HenryV himself seems to have vetoed the plan for an exchange between Somerset and Angoulême, the younger brother of Orléans, who was not even in the hands of the English king. M. K. Jones, ‘John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset and the French Expedition in 1443’, in R. A. Griffiths, ed., Patronage, the Crown, and the Provinces (Gloucester, 1981), pp. 79–102, at p. 80. For an analysis of Henry’s will, see P. Strong and F. Strong, ‘The Last Will and Codicils of Henry V’, EHR, 96 (1981), 79–102. 73 PROME, vol. x, pp. 250–2 (April 1425); see also Stansfield, ‘John Holland, Duke of Exeter and Earl of Huntingdon and the Costs of the Hundred Years War’, in Hicks, ed., Profit, Piety and the Professions in Later Medieval England, pp. 103–18, at pp. 107–9. (Contrary to what Stansfield assumes, Holland was seemingly not in Sibbald’s hands at the time of this transaction; see n. 71.) The case of Gaucourt and Estouteville will be discussed later. 74 TNA, C 47/30/9/14 (10 March 1427); SC8/141/7018 (endorsement: 3 November 1427); also quoted in Jones, ‘John Beaufort’, p. 81. 71

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Princes, masters and prisoners Beaufort was in the hands of Tanguy du Châtel. At that time, acting on the behest of Jean de Dunois, bâtard of Orléans (illegitimate brother of the duke of Orléans), Du Châtel sealed a treaty with Beaufort of which the main purpose was to organise the latter’s liberation and that of Jean d’Angoulême, the younger brother of the duke of Orléans, who had been held hostage in England since 1412.75 Even if the Dauphin had anything to do with these transfers, negotiations and treaty, his role was relatively minor. Indeed, these were mainly the result of the investment of a wealthy financier, Tanguy du Châtel, and of the ‘Orléans’ network’, which was actively working on the release of the two Orléans’s brothers.76 Du Châtel only agreed to cede his rights over Beaufort in return for the lordship of Romorantin which belonged to the duke of Orléans and which proved to be not valuable enough.77 The treaty eventually failed. Nevertheless, Thomas had regained his freedom by summer 1430, when he was in command of a 480-strong garrison at La Charité-sur-Loire.78 His ransom to Du Châtel amounted to 28,000 eo, a large part of which remained outstanding at his premature death in 1431.79 Of the three prisoners, John Beaufort, earl of Somerset, was indisputably the most prestigious; of the three masters, Laurence Vernon, who was not even knighted in 1421, certainly was the lowest-ranking one.80 A grant issued by Charles VII in May 1423 seems to indicate that Vernon had handed over his prisoner to the French king.81 Yet this case is very unusual in different respects. First, that Beaufort, a powerful magnate, remained in the hands of Vernon, a mere esquire, for at least two 75 ‘Monseigneur Tanguy Du Chatel, a la requite de monseigneur le bastart d’Orleans est d’accort [avecques] messire Thomas de Beaufort son prisonnier par la maniere qui s’ensuit.’ BL, Add. Ch. 3655 (28 February 1431). 76 This proactivity of the Orléans’s network can be fully appreciated with the numerous letters and messengers dispatched in France and England in the aftermath of the battle of Baugé. BL, Add. Ch. 297 (April 1421), 3549–52 (April to May 1421); BnF, PO 2239, Perrier, 28 (26 May 1421). 77 BL, Add. Ch. 3655; Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 61. 78 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, pp. 60–1; Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort, p. 205. 79 Curiously enough, the duke of Bourbon appears as master of Beaufort in an obligation of 2,000 marks contracted by Cardinal Beaufort and the duchess of Clarence, on 21 April 1431. Foedera, vol. x, p. 457. This may suggest that Bourbon had purchased the rights over Beaufort and subsequently sold (a part of) them to Du Châtel. However, there is strong evidence that the prisoner belonged to Du Châtel after 1431 and that the Orléans brothers were still very much involved in the settlement of this ransom business five years later in 1436. See DKR, 48, p. 312 (12 May 1436), BnF, Coll. Bastard d’Estang, no. 1284 (5 November 1436); and also, Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 61; Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort, p. 265. 80 Vernon was still an esquire in 1425. AN, X1a 9190, fol. 348vb (23 June 1425). He had become knight by 1444. AN, J 919, fol. 17v (15 August 1444). 81 AN, K 168, no. 92; Arsenal, Ms. 4522, fol. 7r (eighteenth-century manuscript); see also Beaucourt, Charles VII, vol. ii, p. 635; Ditcham, ‘The Employment’, p. 218; Jones, ‘John Beaufort’, p. 81; Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort, p. 161.

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Charles V, Charles VII and the weight of alliances years is a remarkable fact in itself.82 I have shown elsewhere how quick and hierarchical was the redistribution of prisoners in the aftermath of Agincourt.83 Second, the price that the French king agreed to pay for the prisoner, 40,000 fo, is exceptionally high, and the largest amount paid by a prince to acquire a prisoner during the Hundred Years War.Third, what is most surprising is that Vernon seems to have kept some rights over the prisoner. This may have resulted from the difficulties of the king in raising the 40,000 fo. Out of this latter sum, 15,000 fo came in the form of the lordship of Montreuil-Bonin near Poitiers, and the rest was supposed to be paid in cash.This grant was partially effective.Vernon and his descendants enjoyed the ownership of the lordship of Montreuil-Bonin for more than a century.84 But the king had trouble in paying the remaining 25,000 fo. He still owed money to Vernon as late as 1451.85 This may be the reason why the Scot was still claiming money from Somerset’s ransom in the 1440s. An extract of a court case shows an English esquire, one Jean ‘Valeietz’ (unidentified), struggling to raise ‘certaine grant somme de denier’ (some large amount of pennies) that he was bound to pay to Vernon for the ransom of Somerset, by then deceased, in August 1444. (Somerset had been created a duke in 1443 and had died in May 1444.)86 We also learn in a letter of an official of the court of Le Mans, in December 1447, that a substantial 7,000 fo had been deducted from the ransom of the count of Angoulême for having organised the release of John Futon and Thomas Angie, two hostages held by Lawrence Vernon for the payment of the ransom of the duke of Somerset. (The date of the hostages’ release is unfortunately unknown.)87 As we have seen, Somerset and his younger brother were part of a project of exchange between themselves and the duke of Bourbon in 1427 that never took place. Charles, son of the duke of Bourbon, inherited or acquired the rights over the prisoner after his father’s death in 1434. Negotiations for an exchange of prisoners between the count of Eu and the earl of Somerset were already opened in 1435. Three years later, the Guillaume Cousinot was sent to Laurence Vernon to negotiate the release of Somerset on 10 July 1422. BL, Add. Ch. 306. 83 Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 129–50. 84 On the Vernon family in France, see F. Dupuis, ‘Un procès au XVe siècle’, Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de l’Ouest (1845), 257–89; Francisque-Michel, Les Écossais, vol. i, p. 141, 231; RDP, vol. x (1456–64), pp. 66, 251, 270. 85 At some point the king would have made a substantial payment of 8,000  eo to Vernon. Bibl. Arsenal, Ms. 4522, fol. 18v–19r. He was still receiving an annuity of 500 lt in 1451. BnF, Ms. Fr. 32511, fol. 140r; quoted by Ditcham, ‘The Employment’, p. 218. 86 AN, J 919, fol. 17rv–18v (15 August 1444). 87 AN, J 919, fol. 15v–16rv (21 August 1447). 82

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Princes, masters and prisoners exchange eventually took place. The details of this exchange are very well documented, but there is no mention of Vernon in these records.88 Given the extreme complexity of the ransoming process of wealthy lords, which involved great amounts of money (and often with little available cash), it is likely, nonetheless, that Vernon preserved some financial rights over the ransom of Somerset after 1423. In any case, this issue should not obscure the main points. Charles VII’s reliance on the Scottish alliance had a deep impact on the issue of prisoners of war. The king only rarely interfered in the ransom business of the Scots and in some cases was even inclined to hand over prisoners to them in order to maintain their support.This was not just a matter of choice; Charles simply did not have the financial means to impose his will. He only rarely acquired prisoners at that time and as a result was not fully able to help Scottish prisoners. The case of John Stuart Darnley, constable of the Scottish army, illustrates this last point.The Scot was captured at Cravant in July 1423.Within the following month, the marshal of Burgundy, Jean de Toulongeon, was taken prisoner at La Buissière. A constable for a marshal: the opportunity of an exchange was almost too obvious. The project was formed but never achieved, contrary to what is usually claimed. A lengthy agreement between the duke and Toulongeon’s brothers makes it very clear that the duke of Burgundy had granted the person of Darnley to them so that they could organise an exchange with the marshal in 1424.89 Charles VII, for his part, made yet another territorial concession to the masters of Toulongeon in exchange for their captive.90 However, these promising measures undertaken on both sides led nowhere. Jean de Toulongeon was eventually released in July 1425 in return for the payment of a 14,000 eo ransom, half of which was paid by the duke of Burgundy.91 In November that year, Charles VII made a very modest grant of 500 lt to Darnley in part payment of his ransom,92 but the money was still outstanding in April 1428.93 One should look to the French side to understand this failure. Charles’s letters of grant to Toulongeon’s masters had to be renewed 88 Negotiations around the exchange of prisoners: DKR, 48, pp. 318–22 (1437–8); Somerset acquired the count of Eu: TNA, E 404/56/154 (12 December 1439), 56/239 (13 July 1440); Somerset owed money to the count of Eu and the duke of Bourbon: E 404/59/103 (18 November 1442). See also Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, pp. 224, 227; ‘John Beaufort’, pp. 80–2; Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort, pp. 279–82. 89 ACO, B 11,886; quoted, analysed and edited in Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, pp. 789–91 (4 February 1424). 90 Archives de Grenoble, B 3044, fol. 313, 318; B 3223, fol. 262; quoted in Beaucourt, Charles VII, vol. ii, pp. 635–6 (16 September 1423). 91 See Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp. 59–60; B. Schnerb, ‘L’Honneur de la maréchaussée’: maréchaux et maréchalat en Bourgogne des origines à la fin du moyen âge (Turnhout, 2000), pp. 171, 193. 92 BL, Add. Ch. 3588 (26 November 1425). 93 BL, Add. Ch. 3621; also quoted in E. Cust, Some Account of the Stuarts of Aubigny, in France (London, 1891), p. 11 (20 April 1428).

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Henry V, a ruthless master three times between September 1423 and May 1425 because they had not been followed up and probably never were, the prisoner therefore remaining in the hands of or being returned to his masters.94 .

He nry V, a ruthle s s maste r Les prisonniers francais qui étaient revenues pour traiter de leur rancon, et qui avaient pu connaitre pendant leur captivité le caractère du roi, disaient que ce prince, dont l’extérieur et les réponses présentaient toutes les apparences de l’orgueil et qui passait généralement pour tres vindicatif, avait néanmoins des procédés dignes d’un roi, et que, s’il se montrait sans pitié pour les rebelles, il ménageait ceux qui lui obéissaient, et voulait qu’ils fussent traits avec égard et douceur. The French prisoners [of Agincourt, 1415] who came back to raise the money for their ransom and who had the opportunity to know the character of the king during their captivity, said that this prince, whose answers showed all the appearances of vanity and who usually passed for somebody extremely vindictive, engaged nevertheless in practices worthy of a king and that, although he showed no mercy for the rebels, he treated very well and gently those who obeyed him.95

This portrait of Henry V, painted by the official chronicler of the French monarchy, the monk of Saint-Denis, is not devoid of admiration: if Henry was described as proud and vindictive, he was also fair in his actions.Yet, commenting on the seizure of Caen (1417), the monk’s praise for Henry’s fair practice towards rebels turned into a reproach. ‘Mais’ (But), the monk wrote, il abusait aussi du droit qu’ont les rois de punir la désobéissance. Ceux qui avaient rejeté ses sommations, et qui tombaient entre ses mains, s’ils étaient en état de porter les armes, étaient passés au fil de l’épée comme coupables de lèse-majesté … Les mères enfin étaient réduites à s’expatrier avec leurs enfants, à l’exception de celles qui se résignaient à épouser des Anglais: cruauté d’autant plus injustes, selon l’opinion des gens sages, qu’il les exerçait, non contre ses propres sujets, mais contre les sujets d’autrui. he abused the right which he enjoyed as king to punish the disobedience of those who had ignored his summons (to surrender) and fell into his hands. If they could bear arms, they were put to the sword as if guilty of lèse-majesté … The mothers were forced to exile themselves with their children unless they agreed to marry Englishmen: cruelty even more unjust, according to wise men, because it was not exercised against his own subjects, but others.96 Beaucourt, Charles VII, vol. ii, p. 636.  Translated from Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. vi, p. 163. 96 Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. vi, pp. 163–5. 94



95

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Princes, masters and prisoners Such mixed feelings about the English monarch seem to result from a combination of his authoritarianism, cold pragmatism and success at war. What could reasonably be expected from such a strong leader – arguably the strongest in the Hundred Years War – is the most extreme form of political interference in the issue of prisoners of war. The capture of the town of Harfleur in Upper Normandy was Henry V’s first objective in his expedition in northern France in 1415, which ended rather unexpectedly in his triumph at Agincourt. The siege of the Norman town lasted about five weeks, from 17 August to 22 September, during which time an epidemic of dysentery caused severe losses in the English army.97 For a long while the defenders ignored Henry’s summons to surrender, but they were eventually forced to negotiate the terms of their capitulation on 18 September because there was no sign of relief coming from the French king and they wanted to avoid an assault. The BL Cleopatra C IV version of the Chronicles of London gives a detailed account of the ritual of surrender. Raoul Gaucourt, co-captain with Jean d’Estouteville, and other French lords came with the keys of the town on the agreed date and were kept waiting on their knees in several adjoining tents to that of the English king, who at first refused to look at them.98 After the capitulation, in addition to Gaucourt and Estouteville, Henry reserved for himself twenty-four prisoners ‘given from amongst the more noble and important among them’ as well as four other captives.99 Henry’s decision to keep all these prisoners for himself came as a surprise, according to Perceval de Cagny, who claims that Henry had promised beforehand to hand over these prisoners to his captains.100 Some were indisputably important lords, but this was apparently not the case for all of them.101 Why would Henry burden himself with prisoners of little value? Fortunately, the captivity of these prisoners is very well documented. Various pieces of accountancy, safe-conducts, petitions and, most importantly, a statement given by Gaucourt before the Court of the Requests

On the siege, see J. H. Wylie and W. T. Waugh, The Reign of Henry the Fifth, 3 vols. (Cambridge, 1914–29), vol. ii, pp. 32–67; Curry, Agincourt, pp. 73–94.   98 Chronicles of London, C. L. Kingsford, ed. (Oxford, 1905), pp. 118–19. In contrast, see the account of Gesta Henrici Quinti: The Deeds of Henry the Fifth (F. Taylor and J. S. Roskell, eds. and transl. [Oxford, 1975], p. 59) which highlights Henry’Vs magnanimity.   99 Gesta, p. 51. The names of twenty-six prisoners are known through the accounts of their custody. 100 P. de Cagny, Chronique, H. Moranvillé, ed. (Paris, 1902), p. 95. 101 Apart from the captains, two knights, Jean, alias Karados, des Qesnes and Raoul d’Esneval, could certainly be considered as important lords, moving in higher spheres. A. Demurger, ‘Guerre civile et changements du personel administratif dans le royaume de France de 1400 à 1418: l’exemple des baillis et sénéchaux’, Francia, 6 (1978), 151–298, at pp. 252, 286–7.   97

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Henry V, a ruthless master of Paris shed full light on their fate.102 According to this statement, at first Henry showed clemency since he acceded to the request of all the prisoners who asked for their temporary release because of sickness.They all swore to the king that they would be in Calais by 11 November, and they fulfilled this promise.103 Gaucourt asked for the release of prisoners in Calais because they had performed their engagements (the terms of which are unfortunately not specified) as had been agreed by Henry’s deputies when they signed the treaty of surrender.104 Henry’s answer came as a bombshell: ‘whatever these parties might have said to us’, they should all remain prisoners.105 Eighteen captives were taken to England and kept in the Tower of London for more than a year and a half from 18 December 1415 until mid 1417, with one or two exceptions.106 Eight captives were subsequently dispatched to the castles of Conwy and Caernarfon.107 We learn in a warrant of issue that two others were taken to the duke of Gloucester in 1420.108 Three prisoners were still in the custody of the constable of Conwy in 1423.109 Eight years after their capture, they were still languishing in prison. The story of the other twelve captives is rather dismal.They were taken to the castle of Hammes in Pas-de-Calais in November 1415 where they remained in captivity for a year and a half.110 The small sums allocated This statement arose from a dispute over outstanding debts contracted by Jean d’Estouteville during the captivity of the two men.The date of this testimony is unfortunately not specified. At the very least, we can say that it was made after December 1435, when Jean d’Estouteville died. The document is preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale (Collection Baluze, no. 544; I have, however, not been able to find it in this reference). It is transcribed and translated in N. H. Nicolas, History of the Battle of Agincourt (2nd edn, London, 1832), Appendix, pp. 24–8. 103 The passage of seventeen French knights, prisoners of Harfleur, at Calais, from 17 November to 10 December is attested in English accounts. TNA, E 101/406/29; also quoted in Wylie and Waugh, Henry the Fifth, vol. ii, p. 252. 104 Unfortunately, the terms of the treaty of Harfleur are unknown. Curry, Agincourt, p. 91. 105 Nicolas, History of the Battle, Appendix, p. 25. 106 Issues of the Exchequer, F. Devon, ed. (London, 1837), pp.  344–5. The eighteen prisoners of Harfleur were (1) Jean d’Estouteville, (2) Enguerrand de Fourteneiz, (3) Brunet de Longchamp, (4) Thomassin de Tybutot and (5) Pierre de Gauseville, (6) Charles d’Estouteville, (7) Georges de Clère, (8) Robert d’Esnevale and (9) Hector de Boscherville, (10) Guillaume d’Estouteville, (11) Guillaume Crispyn, (12) Aubert d’Evreux, (13) Colard Blosset, (14) Hugues de Sapynes, (15) Raoul de Galles and (16) Guyonnet d’Erneville, (17) Jean Turgeville and (18) Karados Des Qesnes.TNA, E 404/34/260 A, B.The very fortunate Karados Des Qesnes was released on parole on 11 December 1416 in order to raise the money for his ransom. DKR, 44, p. 586. We learn in a letter of the duke of Burgundy, dated 22 December 1421, that Des Qesnes had to sell his estate of Tramicourt near Péronne to pay his ransom. Demurger, ‘Guerre civile’, pp. 286–7. 107 CPR 1416–22, p. 137.  108 TNA, E 404/36/159 (1420–1). 109 POPC, vol. iii, pp. 81–2, 96 (12 and 19 May 1423). 110 The twelve prisoners were (1) Jean Billy, (2) Huguenyn de Chalons, (3) Jean de Chevers, (4) Regnault de Graincourt, (5) Guillaume Greineville, (6) Hellyn de Bassiers, (7) Pierre de Monbrasean, (8) Thibaut Reyneville, (9) Jean de Taillement, (10) Jaket de Vieville, (11) Herlyn de Wasaers and (12) Pierre de Pauniers. TNA, E 101/47/35; POPC, vol. ii, p. 205. 102

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Princes, masters and prisoners to their expenses (3s 4d sterling per week) suggest that they were lowerranking soldiers. In March 1417, eleven of them were transferred to the Fleet prison in London.111 The missing prisoner was probably dead at that time.112 They then disappear from the records for six years. In 1423, following Henry’s death, they addressed a pitiful petition to the duke of Gloucester, which is worth quoting at length: Beseech most humbly and in mercy seven poor French prisoners currently detained in the Fleet prison, who were captured at Harfleur … from this time, have been prisoners in great poverty. Please your very humble grace to release them from their prison in which they have been seven and a half years, during five years of which at the expense of their custodian. For the present, they are living from alms waiting for the grace and pity of God and the king when he was alive. And now he has died … the said grace and pity, you, most powerful lord, please give to them in the name of Jesus Christ … in consideration that the said poor supplicants came to their prison as they had promised to do when the said town was seized.113

In passing we can note that their number had shrunk from eleven to seven. Four more prisoners are likely to have died in the meantime. Gloucester acceded to their request as there is evidence of their release on 19 May 1423.114 What happened to Gaucourt and Estouteville?115 Henry offered them a deal in Calais in the aftermath of the battle of Agincourt. They would regain their freedom if they managed to obtain the liberation of 140 to 160 English prisoners in France, who were possibly taken during the Agincourt campaign. In addition to this, they were to recover jewels and other personal belongings that Henry had lost during the battle of Agincourt (i.e. his crown, a cross of gold, very valuable gemstones, a piece of the true cross, the seals of his chancery).116 Finally, they were also expected to provide the king with 200 casks of wine from Beaune. Even if these conditions were regarded ‘as by no means reasonable’, the other Frenchmen present in Calais advised Gaucourt and Estouteville to agree with Henry’s terms, for ‘if we did not agree to the conditions of the king, we should run a very great risk of being detained a long 111 POPC, vol. ii, p. 205; Wylie and Waugh, Henry the Fifth, vol. ii, pp. 252–3. 112 Death was certainly a possibility, as the account of Rocheford recorded the death of a servant. TNA, E 101/47/35. 113 POPC, vol. iii, pp. 352–3. 114 L. Puisieux, L’Émigration normande et la colonisation anglaise en Normandie au XVe siècle (Caen, 1866), p. 15; Wylie and Waugh, Henry the Fifth, vol. ii, p. 253. 115 What follows, unless otherwise stated, is drawn from Gaucourt’s statement. See n. 102. 116 On the jewels lost at Agincourt, see Henry’s statement on 1 June 1416. Foedera, vol.  ix, pp. 356–7.

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Henry V, a ruthless master time prisoners in England, without having it in our power to obtain our liberty.’117 Following their advice, the two prisoners accepted the deal, believing that, all things considered, Henry’s promise to release them had been pledged before several respectable individuals, both in Calais and later on in London. On 3 April 1416, Gaucourt was issued a safe-conduct for France. In all likelihood he was part of an embassy sent by Emperor Sigismund to Charles VI as he was back three months later with a letter from the French king to Sigismund.118 Perhaps Gaucourt also had the opportunity to work on his release at the same time. In January 1417, he was entrusted with another diplomatic mission towards the king of France, and this time he sailed back to England together with several prisoners, who were presumably English, under the protection of another safe-conduct.119 After great and costly efforts, Gaucourt and Estouteville eventually managed to complete their part of the agreement. Jewels and English prisoners were put in custody in the Tower of London. But their hopes for freedom must have vanished when Henry released their captives without even consulting them. There would not be any other opportunity for them to regain freedom in Henry’s lifetime. As mentioned earlier, they would eventually be released in 1425 through a complex operation involving the liberation of the earl of Huntingdon. These were not the only circumstances in which Henry hoarded prisoners of war and showed vindictiveness towards them.The fortified market of Meaux surrendered after six or seven months of siege, on 2 May 1422.120 The treaty of capitulation anticipated that the lives of a dozen French defenders – commanders and powerful lords included – would be at the king’s disposal.121 All the others, between 150 and 250 men, had the assurance that their lives would be spared, but they were nonetheless compelled to surrender as prisoners of the king.122 The Bourgeois de Paris was shocked by the appalling conditions of their transport to Paris: 150 prisoners arrived in Paris on 12 May, all of them fettered and piled 117 Nicolas, History of the Battle, Appendix, p. 25. 118 Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. vi, p. 20; Gesta, p. 139, n. 5 119 The prisoners must have been at the very least in the English obedience.There is no detail about the circumstances of their capture, which may have taken place during the Agincourt campaign. Foedera, vol. ix, pp. 423–5 (18 January 1417); DKR, 44, p. 586 (25 January 1417). 120 On the siege, see Wylie and Waugh, Henry the Fifth, vol. iii, pp. 337–57. It also contains a brief account of the fate of the prisoners (at pp. 351–2). 121 A man called Grasse who ‘blewe and sonned a horne duryng the siege’ paid for his insolence with his life. The treaty of surrender is included in the account of Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 93–5. A slightly different version is printed in Foedera, vol. x, pp. 212–13. 122 On the numbers, see C. de Fauquembergue, Journal, 1417–1435, A. Tuetey, ed., 3 vols. (Paris, 1903– 15), vol.  ii, pp.  44–5 and Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, 1405–1449, C. Beaune, ed. (Paris, 1990), pp. 169–70.

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Princes, masters and prisoners up like pigs in a ship.123 Most prisoners were then sent to England in June and July.124 After a very short captivity in the Tower of London, 170 prisoners were dispatched to various castles in England in July 1422.125 After Henry’s death, all the prisoners were summoned to London.126 In February 1423, the minority government designated three esquires to treat with the prisoners regarding their ransoms.127 Numerous prisoners were eventually handed over to Robert Scot, their guardian at the Tower of London, in payment for ‘the great expenditures for the keeping of the prisoners under his custody’.128 In other words, the ransoms of these prisoners would pay for the expenditure of their year-long captivity (or less) in the Tower.129 This is striking evidence of the relatively low value of the great majority of these captives who, like the eleven prisoners of Harfleur, reduced to begging for their living, should not have been taken to England. Why did Henry V keep in his hands all these lower-ranking captives? Why did he show so much vindictiveness against them? Several factors may explain Henry’s attitude. On both occasions, Henry was commanding the army in person, and, what is more, the garrisons of both places showed strong resistance. This could be perceived as an attack on the honour of the commander  – i.e. Henry himself.130 Besides this question of honour, there was also anger and frustration. On both occasions, English losses were heavy. Among the dead at the siege of Harfleur were eminent English lords such as Richard Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, p. 170. 124 Foedera, vol. x, pp. 214–15; Issues of the Exchequer, vol. i, p. 375. For the passage of some of them in Normandy, see TNA, E 101/188/7, fol. 31rv. 125 Castles of Conwy (twelve prisoners), Flint (eight), Rhuddlan (twenty), Caernarfon (twenty), Nottingham (twenty-four), Harlech (thirty), Chirk (fifteen), Pontefract (six), Kenilworth (twenty), Holt (fifteen). Foedera, vol.  x, pp.  225–6 (4 July 1422); Issues of the Exchequer, vol.  ii, pp. 335–6 (13 July 1422). 126 CPR 1416–22, p.  35 (8 November 1422), p.  36 (26 November 1422); POPC, vol.  iii, pp.  27–8 (12 February 1423), p. 61 (6 March 1423). 127 POPC, vol. iii, p. 23 (1 February 1423). 128 Scot petitioned the council on three occasions in 1423 and 1424, asking for the delivery of safe-conducts for his captives, and was satisfied. POPC, vol. iii, p. 11, n. 153–4, 137–8 (11 February 1424); Foedera, vol. x, p. 297 (13 July 1423). 129 They were of little value but not worthless. In May 1423, the crown ordered Scot to hand over fifty prisoners of Meaux to the esquire, Christopher Preston, in full payment of £850 due to him by the late king. POPC, vol. iii, pp. 78–9 (12 May 1423). 130 KLW, pp. 131–2. The ‘humiliating’ ritual of surrender of the garrison of Harfleur may also illustrate this point. Rituals of surrender are yet to be explored in depth. Such investigations may simply reveal that this example was the norm rather than the exception. There is no doubt that Henry’s pride was hurt at Meaux, where he ordered the execution of the two Frenchmen who had blown a horn and put an ass on the rampart, beating him and calling to the English to rescue their king. Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. vi, p. 93. 123

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Henry V, a ruthless master Courtenay, bishop of Norwich, and the earl of Suffolk; and at Meaux the earl of Worcester and Lord Clifford. Many soldiers fell ill during the siege of Harfleur and had to be sent home, and it is probably at Meaux that Henry contracted the illness from which he died in August 1422. Finally, these reprisals against the prisoners may also have been strategic; in that sense, they were a warning for any town or castle which might be inclined to present a strong resistance to him. A combination of these different factors is likely to be behind Henry’s reprisals. More importantly, these cases are compelling examples of Henry’s conception of his indisputable authority; he had the power to monopolise these prisoners and to ignore any ‘chivalric convention’ in their treatment. Prisoners of war were not the only victims of his authoritarian and ruthless leadership. English masters could equally be treated without much consideration. As we have seen, Perceval de Cagny accused Henry of breaking his promise to hand over the prisoners of Harfleur to his captains. The king did not prove to be a good payer after Agincourt. John Cornwall, for instance, was deprived of his prestigious prisoner, the count of Vendôme, without any financial compensation. Following Henry’s death, Cornwall engaged in a long suit to recover his rights over his prisoner and eventually won his case towards the end of 1423.131 It was a complete victory. Vendôme was given back to him ‘together with the arrears of his ransom’, and the expenses incurred by the legal case were repaid to him.132 Similarly, the English knight Thomas Blount asked the minority government for the payment of £3,333, the financial compensation which Henry V had promised him for having surrendered his prisoner to the crown but of which he had not received a penny in Henry’s lifetime.133 In general, masters’ private interests rarely fit with the sovereigns’ political ambitions. The difference between Henry and the other leaders is that he made deliberate attempts to control this issue. This will be further illustrated in Chapter 3. An era of strong and uncontested leadership ended with his premature death. Once he had given up the stage, prisoners, masters and guardians petitioned the new government seeking liberty and compensation which they had been denied in Henry’s lifetime.

131 POPC, vol.  iii, p.126 (11 November 1423); See also A. C. Reeves, Lancastrian Englishmen (Washington, DC, 1981), pp. 156, 169. 132 POPC, vol. iii, p. 126.  133 TNA, SC8/332/15712 AB.

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Princes, masters and prisoners Conclusion These different cases are forceful evidence of the huge significance of prisoners of war for contemporaries, a significance which cannot be fully appreciated through the yardstick of their political or strategic value. The financial value of prisoners of war of ‘public standing’ could be so important that the prisoners themselves were not able to pay it. It also meant that their masters would be ready to engage in a fierce battle to protect their rights over them, even if it involved defiance of the authorities. Furthermore, kings, whatever the state of their finances, could meet serious difficulties in buying captives from their masters. The master’s right to financial compensation over these princely acquisitions of their prisoners of war was firmly rooted in the rules, practices and attitudes of the time. Masters were entitled to ransom money on every single prisoner of war (traitors and criminals excluded);134 either they took it themselves from their prisoners or the king paid them compensation when he claimed the prisoners for himself. Of course, these paid transfers of prisoners to the prince – and to any superior, in fact, as we will see in Chapter 4 – could prove to be less lucrative than if the master ransomed the prisoner himself, but different factors need to be considered.135 That masters had the right to convert capture into money nevertheless remains a key feature of the ransom culture, which, in some circumstances, could represent an obstacle to princely ambitions. To some extent, it is surprising to find only one spectacular clash of interests between the king and one of his subjects.This case, that of Percy against Henry IV, was rather unusual in the fact that Percy was a particularly powerful magnate; he nursed a grudge against the king before the incident and had vast political ambitions in the North, which his prisoner, the earl of Douglas, might assist in realising. Perhaps only such particular circumstances would give rise to a public quarrel between the king and one of his subjects. However, this case should not overshadow the resistance that private masters made against royal orders. How many prisoners were secretly ransomed against the will of the king in the Hundred Years War? It certainly happened in the aftermath of Neville’s Cross and Humbleton Hill. In those cases, contrary to that of Hotspur, the sovereign did not yield, but that did not prevent private masters carrying on their ‘illegal’ business. If there were no other open clashes, it can be argued that this was because sovereigns had a realistic notion of the Traitors and criminals, however, were not considered as prisoners of war, as we will see in the next chapter. 135 See pp. 111–15. 134

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Conclusion actual extent of their power. Henry V enjoyed such great authority that he could sometimes ignore the rights of private masters, but the difficult situation in which Charles VII found himself as Dauphin meant that he hardly ever interfered with any ransom business and was prepared to make extra concessions.

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Chapter 3

Statu s and poli tic s in La nca st r ia n Normandy

English political aims changed radically in the fifteenth century.The punitive raids and devastation of the countryside, which were characteristic of the fourteenth-century phase of the Hundred Years War, had given way to conquest and settlement. What impact had this new political and strategic context had on the practice of ransom and the status of prisoners of war? In theory, the treaty of Troyes of May 1420 completely changed the face of war. Before it was sealed, Henry V and the partisans of Dauphin Charles, the future Charles VII, were engaged in an open war between enemy countries. Once Henry became heir and regent of Charles VI through the treaty, this war became internal. From that point on, the partisans of the Dauphin would be considered as rebellious subjects of the French crown.1 Potentially, this raised a major threat to the lives and status of ‘French’ combatants who fell into the hands of the English. Yet this official shift in the nature of the conflict, which made the Dauphin’s partisans into rebels against the only legitimate authority, Charles VI and his regent and heir, Henry V, did not, in fact, mark any radical change to the status of prisoner of war. French rebels, if captured by the English, were not condemned to death as traitors and normally enjoyed the status of prisoners of war. The many examples of the capture and ransom 1 See article 12 of the treaty of Troyes: ‘Item that our said son [Henry V] shall labour with all his might, and as soon as can profitably be done, to put in our obedience all the cities, towns, countries, castles, places, areas and persons within our realm which are disobedient to us, and rebels holding to or being of the party commonly called that of the Dauphin and of Armagnac.’ The treaty has been translated into English in A. Curry, ‘Two Kingdoms, One King: The Treaty of Troyes (1420) and the Creation of a Double Monarchy of England and France’, in G. Richardson, ed., The Contending Kingdoms: France and England, 1420–1700 (Aldershot, 2008), pp. 23–41, at pp. 35–41. For the original text in French, see E. Cosneau, Les Grands Traités de la guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1889), pp. 102–15. Individuals qualified as rebels in the late medieval vocabulary were enemies from the interior who took part in internecine wars. C. Gauvard, ‘Résistants et collaborateurs pendant la guerre de Cent Ans: le témoignage des lettres de rémission’, in La ‘France anglaise’, pp. 124–38, at p. 133; ‘De grace especial’, vol. ii, pp. 548–9.

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy of French soldiers after the treaty of Troyes – for instance, at the battles of Cravant (31 July 1423) and Verneuil (17 August 1424) – provide definite evidence of this. This does not necessarily mean that French soldiers were immune from the charge of treason, but what emerges clearly from the sources is that their lives would not be put in danger merely for the sake of fighting for Charles VII. The biggest threat to ransoms and to the status of prisoners of war did not come from the new regime established by the treaty of Troyes but from English policies enforced in the duchy of Normandy. Normandy was a special case. As Anne Curry puts it, ‘from 1417 to 1420 it was a conquest, with various forms of justifications being used for its tenure. From 1420 to 1422 it was a quasi-apanage of France ruled by an English king as heir to the French throne’.2 It was only from 1422 that it lost its special status to become ‘part of Henry VI’s kingdom of France’.3 Nevertheless, as we will see, policies initiated by Henry V in the duchy affecting the status of prisoners of war were perpetuated long after his premature death in 1422, even after Normandy was theoretically reinstated to the French crown. The treaty of Troyes anticipated that Henry V and his successors would not only subdue all areas and populations that were disobedient to the French king but also promised that they would govern by peace and justice all those who accepted the terms of the treaty.4 This was a policy that Henry had already pursued in the duchy of Normandy before the treaty was sealed. This is demonstrated by the strong military defence maintained by the English against external offensives of the enemy. It is also seen through their attempts to eliminate pockets of resistance within nominally obedient territory, to clear the countryside of criminals and to maintain discipline within their own armies.5 English policy raised questions about, and endangered, the status of prisoners of war both directly, through proclamations that aimed at exerting tighter control over the ransom process, and indirectly, through a relentless hunt against those deemed to be brigands. 2 A. Curry,‘Lancastrian Normandy:The Jewel in the Crown?’, in D. Bates and A. Curry, eds., England and Normandy in the Middle Ages (London, 1994), pp. 235–52, at p. 239. 3 Curry, ‘Lancastrian Normandy’, p. 239. 4 Articles 9 and 10. 5 See, for instance, R. A. Newhall, The English Conquest of Normandy, 1416–1424: A Study in Fifteenth-Century Warfare (London and New Haven, Conn., 1924), pp. 269–322, and A. Baume, ‘Les Opérations militaires anglaises pour expulser les compagnies françaises du Pays de Caux et du Vexin normand’, in La ‘France anglaise’, pp. 393–400; B. J. H. Rowe, ‘Discipline in the Norman Garrisons under Bedford, 1422–35’, EHR, 46 (1931), 194–208; R. A. Newhall, ‘Bedford’s Ordinance on the Watch of September, 1428’, EHR, 50 (1935), 36–60; A. Curry, ‘Les “Gens vivans sur le païs” pendant l’occupation anglaise de la Normandie (1417–1450)’, in P. Contamine and O. Guyotjeannin, eds., La Guerre, la violence et les gens au moyen âge, vol. i: Guerre et violence (Paris, 1996), pp. 209–21. The attempted clear-out of criminals or so-called brigands will be discussed later in this chapter.

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy N ew p ol icie s f or a new p ol iti cal orde r Norman rebels were not automatically considered traitors.The Lancastrian application of the law of treason in Normandy both before and after the treaty of Troyes was complex.6 All Normans living in territories of English obedience were obliged to take an oath of fealty. Those who chose not to swear allegiance had to leave the duchy, and their property was liable to be confiscated. Those who had taken the oath received a bullette, that is, a letter of protection, which testified their allegiance to the English king and gave protection against attacks by English soldiers. However, if they later broke their oath and changed allegiance, they were considered traitors and would often be executed. By contrast, those who had never taken the oath could be considered ‘enemies’ in so far as their persons were concerned. But they were traitors in so far as their property was concerned and would therefore suffer confiscation. This policy, inspired by Norman custom, was relatively fair: the rebels had, in theory, complete freedom to swear allegiance to the English crown or not.7 Only renegades who had renounced their oath of fealty were in danger in the event of their capture. These principles were not, however, immutable. The government issued various proclamations that either relaxed or strengthened them according to circumstances. For example, it is well known that the English made considerable efforts to conciliate the Normans in the early days of the conquest.8 In the aftermath of the fall of Caen in September 1417, Henry V made his first appeal to his Norman subjects, proclaiming that all those who returned to their homes and swore allegiance to him would be assured of royal favour, the enjoyment of their possessions and the right to carry on business in the conquered country.9 This proclamation was followed by many others during the conquest and beyond. In March 1423, a general amnesty was still offered to all Normans who were The following account of the mechanisms of the law of treason is inspired by Cuttler, The Law of Treason, pp. 41–2. 7 See the ‘Grand coustumier de Normendie’ (sixteenth century), in Nouveau coutumier général de France, Bourdot de Richebourg, ed., 4 vols. (Paris, 1724), vol. iv, pp. 7–8. On the inclination of the English kings to govern according to the customs of Normandy, see also R. Jouet, La Résistance à l’occupation anglaise en Basse-Normandie, 1418–1450 (Caen, 1969), pp. 40–1. It must be noted here that forfeitures of lands were very common in the Hundred Years War. Cuttler, The Law of Treason, pp. 116–41; Bossuat, ‘Le Règlement des confiscations’, pp. 6–16. These lands were, on some occasions during the reign of Charles V, given as compensation for losses incurred by loyal prisoners of war. RDP, vol. iv, pp. 80–3, no. 503 (November 1370); AN, JJ 102, fol. 125r (10 July 1373); RDP, vol. iv, p. 113, no. 514 (9 June 1372); RDP, vol. iv, p. 53, no. 394 (12 April 1370); AN, JJ 104, fol. 53, no. 107; Froissart (SHF), vol. vii, p. xxvii, n.1. 8 On this effort of conciliation, see Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, pp. 205–29. 9 Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 207. 6

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New policies for a new political order not residing in Normandy, including those who had given, and subsequently broken, their oath of fealty.10 Henry V’s earliest proclamation on ransoms was notably permissive. On 20 October 1417 it was proclaimed that all persons under royal protection should apply for letters of allegiance within eight days; ‘anyone after that time who lacked such a letter could be captured and held for ransom.’11 A second proclamation, issued six months later, on 12 April 1418, subordinated private interests in ransoms to Henry’s programme of pacification.12 As Newhall describes it, special assurances were given that Normans who had been captured and held for ransom but had escaped from their captors and fled the country might return without fear of recapture. Gentlemen [given in the text as ‘gens nobles’] however, who had given their parole in similar circumstances … were guaranteed against arrest but their captors could bring actions against them under the law of arms before the king’s justices.13

This special treatment for gentleman suggests that non-noble prisoners were simply released from any ransom obligation. Subsequent policies on ransoming considerably strengthened royal interest. These must be placed in the particular context of the time of their issue. On 16 June 1421, Henry ordered Ralph Cromwell not to ransom the French captain L’Étandard de Milly and all other prisoners taken at the recovery of the fortress and abbey of Bec-Hellouin but to keep them in captivity until further notice. The king also asked that a list of the names of these prisoners be drawn up and sent to the bailli of Rouen.14 Bec-Hellouin had surrendered to the English on 4 May 1418 but was recovered by the French on 13 June 1421, only to be recaptured three days later.15 This strict ban on ransoming the French prisoners of Bec-Hellouin was occasioned by Henry’s annoyance that the place had been retaken by the French, albeit briefly. The English esquire John Sterre referred to this general abolition in his letter of remission for the murder of Jean Avicet. Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. i, pp. 128–9, no. 21 (August 1423); B.  J.  H. Rowe, ‘The Estates of Normandy under the Duke of Bedford, 1422–1435’, EHR, 46 (1931), 551–78, at p. 572. 11 Rotuli Normanniae, T. D. Hardy, ed. (London, 1835), p. 368; as cited by Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 210. 12 Foedera, vol. ix, p. 572; as cited by Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 213. On the word of honour of gentlemen, see pp. 31–4. 13 Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 213. 14 ‘Rôles normands et français et autres pièces tirées des archives de Londres par Bréquigny en 1764, 1765 et 1766’, Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 3rd series, 23 (1858), no. 1000; also cited by Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 228. 15 ‘Rôles normands’, no.  131; H. Denifle, La Désolation des églises, monastères et hopitaux en France pendant la guerre de Cent Ans, 2 vols. (Paris, 1897–9), vol.  i, p.  71; Newhall, English Conquest, pp. 99, 279. 10

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy It was probably a large French counter-offensive in Normandy at the end of the year that prompted Henry V to issue a more extensive ban on ransoming on 8 December 1421. This concerned any Norman enemy or rebel who was in the hands of the king’s own subjects and lieges. The latter were ordered to keep their prisoners in secure custody and not to ransom them until they received further orders concerning their release.16 This ban was not intended to be permanent. The indenture of war for the captaincy of the castle and town of Bayeux, which Henry sealed with the English knight Sir John Popham on 25 December 1421, includes the standard clauses by which the king was entitled to a third of the gains of war of Popham and a third of a third of the gains of his men, gains which were made up of booty and ransoms.17 Yet we do see further royal interference three months later. This time the purpose was purely monetary. On 12 March 1422, the English king promulgated an ordinance that forbade any of his lieges from receiving ransom payments unless these were made in gold or silver marks, bullion or plate, on pain of forfeiture and imprisonment.18 This was an attempt to protect the duchy of Normandy from the debased coinage and counterfeits which were in circulation in Dauphinist territories.19 Bréquigny seems to suggest that this coinage issue was also at the origin of the earlier ban on ransoms (8 December 1421), but the text and the measure itself do not support this interpretation.20 These interventions in ransoming did not end with the death of Henry V on 31 August 1422. A new proclamation was made shortly afterwards on 8 October 1422.21 This was a detailed prohibition of private 16 ‘[T]ute et secure custodire faciat ita quod ipsum nullo modo relaxet seu deliberet pro fina redemptione’, TNA, C 64/16, m. 16; published in ‘Rôles normands’, no. 1061 (8 December 1421). Bréquigny added a caption: ‘Ordonnance sur les Normands prisonniers de guerre’ on which Newhall relied in his comments (‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 228). However, there is no specific reference to war in the text. Bréquigny also read ‘personarum’ instead of ‘prisonarum’ and missed the part in italics in the following quotation: ‘quovsque pro deliberacione aliud a nobis habuerit specialiter in mandatis’. I would like to thank Professor Curry for having provided me with a photo of the document and for her insights into it. For the French counter-offensive, see Newhall, The English Conquest, p. 285. 17 Archives départementales du Calvados, F 1297 (25 December 1421); I would like to thank Professor Curry who drew my attention to this piece and provided me with a transcript of it. 18 TNA, C 64/16, m. 4; ‘Rôles normands’, no. 1088 (12 March 1422). I would like to thank Professor Curry for having provided me with a photo of the document. Newhall (English Conquest, p. 283) seems to have misread the document since there is nothing in the text which alludes to the ransom of captives ‘of other nationality’. 19 On these English measures to exclude ‘bad’ money and establish ‘strong’ money, see Newhall, The English Conquest, p. 283; Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, pp. 158–9. 20 ‘Rôles normands’, p. 195, no. 3 21 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26044, no. 5771 (8/16 October 1422); the document is quoted by Newhall (‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 228, n. 128) and very briefly discussed by B. Rowe (‘Discipline’, p. 194, n. 3) who misread it in part: ‘These [safe-conducts] were a double source of evil, because they let loose upon

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New policies for a new political order safe-conducts delivered by English captains to their prisoners, and gives an insight into the motivations of the English government at that point. Two concerns are expressed in the proclamation. The first is financial but does not seem to be directly linked to the previous coinage matter. The argument was put that prisoners of war were regularly provided with safe-conducts by captains so that they could raise money for their ransoms and that they used these authorisations to seek assistance from their friends and relatives living in English-obedient territories who had chosen to take the oath of fealty to the English king. As a result, ransoms were being paid out of the pockets of the subjects of the English king rather than those of the enemy. This was seen as intolerable, probably because it was considered to undermine tax revenues. Beyond the financial issue, the proclamation also reveals the complexity of a situation in which prisoners were rebels who had their own roots, as well as friends and family, in English-held territories. The second concern expressed in the proclamation related to the particular situation following Henry V’s death, an event that had revived Dauphinist hopes. The government complained that prisoners of war took advantage of the protection of their safe-conducts to stir up rebellions in the duchy. Indeed, there are signs at that point that the French were preparing a new offensive in Normandy. Such an attack did take place in November 1422.22 For these reasons, and for the sake of the public good, the government therefore forbade any captain to deliver safe-conducts to prisoners of this type. Any soldier who recaptured a prisoner in possession of such a safe-conduct was expected to hand him over to the authorities. The soldier would be rewarded with a third of the prisoner’s ransom, the other two-thirds remaining the property of the master who had initially ransomed the prisoner. The fine imposed on the disobedient captain who had delivered the safe-conduct would amount to a third of the ransom, which was equivalent to his share (of the ransom). Safe-conducts were always a source of concern for the authorities. The vicomte of Bayeux warned Charles V in 1371 that captains and others provided safe-conducts to all sorts of Englishmen who travelled through French territories and who were able to spy on (‘visoient’) French fortresses. The official indirectly admitted, however, that safe-conducts were necessary for prisoners of war. In his mind, these should be the only people allowed to enjoy them.23 English ordinances of war, both in 1385 the country undesirable prisoners who either stirred up rebellion or preyed upon the people, and also because they enabled the soldiers to make a profit by arresting and holding to ransom suspects who were often really innocent.’ 22 Newhall, The English Conquest, pp. 290–1. 23 BL, Add. Ch. 32 (28 July 1371).

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy and during the reign of Henry V, also reserved to the king, constable or marshal of the host the right to issue safe-conducts.24 Restrictions on the delivery of safe-conducts in Lancastrian Normandy were repeatedly reissued. In this context, the ban of 8 October 1422 can be seen as the first of a long series. A proclamation made in Rouen in February 1431 forbade officers of the crown, baillis and captains from providing any safe-conducts to the enemy unless they were prisoners of war, so that they might be able to raise money for their ransoms.25 Seven years later, in February 1438, a similar order blamed the uncontrolled circulation of the enemy in territories under English obedience for the loss of fortresses and towns. It therefore banned any bailli, captain and man-at-arms from delivering safe-conducts to the enemy (on this occasion including prisoners of war) without royal consent or that of the lieutenant general.26 Three years later, in August 1441, the administration complained yet again that safe-conducts were being too freely granted, with the result that people were giving support, and betraying information, to the enemy.27 The dates of these proclamations can be linked with various crisis situations which prompted a desire to prevent the enemy from circulating in English-held territories.28 The proclamations were remainders of the longer-term general interdiction against the issue of safe-conducts without the consent of the English king’s lieutenants in France (even the baillis were barred from issuing these documents). This is made obvious in the bans of 1438 and 1441 where the king complained that he had issued the same ban in the duchy on many different occasions but that, nevertheless, royal officers, captains and soldiers had continued to issue safe-conducts to the enemy on their own initiative. The English conquest and pacification of Normandy prompted strong and sustained interventionist policies in response to the various security, financial and monetary problems raised by the ransoming of ‘rebel’ prisoners of war. The ban on ransoms, issued on 8 December 1421, was certainly unprecedented: this, to some extent, further illustrates the authoritarian portrait of Henry V drawn in the previous chapter. Such a ban seemed to be the most appropriate solution at the time but was only temporarily imposed. It must also be noted that the financial issues raised in the 8 October 1421 ban – that Norman rebels paid their ransoms through the resources of obedient subjects of the crown  – were never solved. Ransoming was practised throughout the period of English rule, 24 Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 245; ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290. 25 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26054, no. 1525 (26 March 1431). 26 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26064, no. 3412 (18 February 1438). 27 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26068, no. 4371 (August 1444); cited in Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, p. 237. 28 Curry, ‘Military Organisation’, vol. i, p. 300.

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Guerrilla warfare and prisoners of war as is revealed by the indentures of the garrison captains, by the garrison counter-rolls that record gains of war and by the repeated restrictions on safe-conducts.The ransoms mentioned in the counter-rolls appear to have been paid regularly in gold coins and silver marks.This may have been the positive result of the policy on coinage, but this was not a real constraint on ransoming; it merely increased the pressure on prisoners.29 The only consistent effort at exerting a tighter control of the ransom business was through a restriction on the delivery of safe-conducts.This was unsuccessful since soldiers and captains continued to bypass the higher authorities. Gue rri lla warfare and the statu s of p ris one r s of war The situation of military occupation nowadays still raises the question as to whether or not resistance fighters should be granted combatant status and thus enjoy the protective status of prisoners of war in the event of capture.30 ‘In the traditional laws of war’, K. Nabulsi observes, ‘only professional soldiers were granted belligerent status … accordingly, all civilians who participated in hostilities were considered outlaws, and, in the chilling words of the draft Russian text at Brussels in 1874, were to be “delivered to justice”.’31 In the late Middle Ages the situation was further complicated by the fact that there was no professional army stricto sensu, at least not until the 1440s in France. The line of demarcation between combatant and non-combatant, between prisoner of war and criminal, was therefore particularly blurred during most of the English occupation of Normandy. This, as we shall now see, had an impact on the status of prisoners of war. The English government launched a brigand hunt in September 1421. This should probably be seen as an additional measure taken to defend the duchy against early signs of a French counter-attack.Yet this relentless hunt against brigands would be extended throughout the whole period of occupation. We read, for instance, in a proclamation of 7 October 1424, which recalled the terms of the previous ordinance issued at Caen in December 1423, that English captains, men-at-arms and archers were barred from ransoming any captured brigand, whom they were expected See pp. 142–5, 162–5. 30 C. Rousseau, Le Droit de conflit armé (Paris, 1983), p.  80; M. Clarke, T. Glynn and A. Rogers, ‘Combatants and Prisoner of War Status’, in M. Meyer, ed., Armed Conflict and the New Law: Aspects of the 1977 Geneva Protocols and the 1981 Weapons Convention (London, 1989), pp. 107–37, at pp. 107, 109; E. Crawford, The Treatment of Combatants and Insurgents under the Law of Armed Conflict (Oxford, 2010), especially pp. 49–53. 31 K. Nabulsi, Traditions of War: Occupation, Resistance, and the Law (Oxford, 1999), pp. 16–17. 29

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy to deliver to justice.32 They were to receive 6 lt for any such brigand captured and handed over.This policy, which dated back to at least September 1421, was further interference in private ransoms by Henry V.33 Newhall calculated that this amount of 6 lt was equivalent to eighteen days’ pay of a man-at-arms.34 Nevertheless, the authorities complained that, neglecting their orders, English soldiers had continued to ransom brigands and traitors and had asked for great sums of money for their liberation. We will return to this question of disobedience later. Let us focus here on the ‘brigands’ who would almost inevitably end their life on the scaffold. Who were these brigands? An old-fashioned patriotic debate was conducted between French and English historians who questioned the nature of these brigands. From a French perspective they were considered as heroic resistance fighters, from an English viewpoint, common criminals.35 Some contemporaries, such as Thomas Basin, bishop of Lisieux, saw them as peasants driven to the woods by socio-economic difficulties, who infested the Norman countryside and caused much trouble to the English authorities.36 Originally, however, the term ‘brigand’ belonged to the military vocabulary. In Italy, brigandi designated a foot soldier.37 The term reached France through the Dauphiné and Provence in the mid fourteenth century. It was then associated with a lower-ranking foot soldier whose characteristic personal armour was a sleeveless jacket reinforced with metal plates, called the brigandine. The bad reputation of these soldiers and their criminal activities  – theft, pillage and murder – contributed to the shift in meaning from warfare to crime. It has been commonly accepted that this shift had already been completed by the beginning of the fifteenth century, but Valérie Toureille has argued BnF, Ms. Fr. 26047, no. 338 (7 October 1424). 33 Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 226. 34 Newhall, ‘Henry V’s Policy’, p. 226, n. 113. 35 See the concise summary proposed by Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, pp.  230–1. More recent research has moved on from this debate to develop a more analytical and social approach of the individuals behind the brigands. See M. R. Evans, ‘Brigandage and Resistance in Lancastrian Normandy: A Study of the Remission Evidence’, Reading Medieval Studies, 18 (1992), 103–34; J.-L. Roch, ‘Les Guerres du peuple: autodéfense, révolte et pillage dans la guerre de Cent Ans’, in J. Maurice, D. Couty and M. Guéret-Laferté, eds., Images de la Guerre de Cent ans: actes du colloque de Rouen (23, 24 et 25 mai 2000) (Paris, 2002), pp. 47–61;V. Challet, ‘Tuchins et brigands des bois: communautés paysannes et mouvements d’autodéfense en Normandie pendant la guerre de Cent Ans’, in C. Bougy and S. Poirey, eds., Images de la contestation du pouvoir dans le monde normand (Xe–XVIIIe siècles): Actes du colloque de Cerisy-la-Salle (29 septembre–3 octobre 2004) (Caen, 2007), pp. 135–46. 36 See, for instance, T. Basin, Histoire de Charles VII, C. Samaran, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1933), vol. i, p. 107; Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, pp. 162, 206; Saint-Denis, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 402–4. 37 On the etymology of brigand and pillager, see Godefroy, Dictionnaire, vol. i, p. 733, vol. x, pp. 338– 9; Rowe, ‘John Duke of Bedford’, p. 585; R. Jouet, La Résistance, p. 18; Wright, ‘“Pillagers” and “Brigands” in the Hundred Years War’, 15–24, at pp. 17–19;V. Toureille, Vol et brigandage au moyen âge (Paris, 2006), pp. 46–50. 32

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Guerrilla warfare and prisoners of war otherwise.38 For her, this evolution was very slow. She argues that, during the Hundred Years War, brigandage still referred to military activities, even if, right from the start, its meaning was rather deprecatory. By the end of the fourteenth century it had described a form of warfare in which foot soldiers no longer had the monopoly since civilians who took up arms could also be termed brigands. The lack of a clear-cut demarcation between brigandage as a charge of criminal indictment and as the activity of recognised soldiers further complicated matters. It also increased the danger for otherwise legitimate soldiers to be associated with criminals. The following two documents betray what I believe to be a genuine questioning as well as unease on the part of the English authorities around the status to be granted to soldiers involved in guerrilla warfare in Lancastrian Normandy. Would they be considered as criminals or prisoners of war?39 The Norman estates, meeting at Caen, had issued ordinances concerning this question. We hear of them in a letter of May 1428 of Pierre Poolin, lieutenant of the bailli of Rouen and Gisors.40 Poolin informed all the sergeants (‘sergens’) and sub-sergeants of his bailliage that it had come to his knowledge that the captain of Louviers, or his lieutenant or other men in the garrison, had in their hands three men. These had been captured along with ‘bigourdoiz’ – Pierre le Bigourdais, a well-known Norman leader whom we know had already been taken prisoner and ransomed by the English in November 1425.41 His second capture is likely to have taken place in April 1428 when there is evidence of military activity in the neighbourhood of Louviers involving ‘brigans et aultrez gens de guerre’.42 These men, Poolin claimed, had been found 38 Toureille, Vol et brigandage, pp. 46–50, 56–61. 39 Interestingly, the duke of Bedford published ordinances in December 1423 in which he complained that soldiers took prisoner ‘laboureurs, ou autres gens de villaiges residens ou plat pays’, and claimed that they were brigands or Armagnacs so that they could demand a ransom from them. This is early evidence of the narrow line of demarcation between combatants, non-combatants and so-called brigands and the inclination of the English authorities to try to clarify this question of status. Rowe, ‘Discipline’, p. 204. I would like to thank Anne Curry for drawing my attention to this document. 40 AN, KK 648, no. 12 (4 May 1428). The document is also quoted and partially edited by Rowe, ‘John Duke of Bedford’, p. 593. 41 On Le Bigourdais and his first capture, see Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 291–4, no. 116 (February 1426); G. Lefèvre de Pontalis, ‘Épisodes de l’invasion anglaise: la guerre de partisans dans la Haute-Normandie (1424–1429)’, BEC, 54 (1893), 475–521; 55 (1894), 259–305; 56 (1895), 433–508; 97 (1936), 102–30; 54 (1893), 519. 42 Germain Lefèvre de Pontalis transcribed two revealing extracts of a document relating to these activities: ‘Pour ce que sur le pays y avoit brigans et aultrez gens de guerre, ennemis et adversaires du roy … que l’en doubtoit qu’ilz ne venissent passer la rivière de Saine’. BnF, Ms. Fr. 26050, no.  884. The second was apparently a letter addressed to the vicomte (of Louviers?): ‘Pour ce que plusieurs adversaires et brigans sont dedens vostre dicte viconté, tant en forestz que ailleurs, et frequentent souventes fois en entencion de passer la riviere de Saine, dont plusieurs et grans

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy ‘guectans es boys et es chemins’ (lurking in the woods, and by the roads) with the intention of capturing subjects of the English crown, and, he reminded the sergeants, according to the ordinances issued by the estates of Caen: toutes telles personnes prins par les cappitaines, leurs lieutenants, gens de garnison ou autres doivent estre mis es mains de la justice et par icelle examinez pour savoir se ilz sont tels que ilz doyent emporter pugnicion ou estre reputez comme gens de guerre, ouquel cas, par la justice, ilz seroient rendus a ceulx qui les auroient prins. any man of this sort taken by captains, their lieutenants, men in garrisons or others must be handed over to justice and by the said justice examined so that they could be questioned in order to ascertain whether they are to be punished or reputed as soldier; if the latter, by justice, they should be handed back to those who took them.43

Interestingly, this document indirectly confirms the idea that contemporaries associated the status of prisoner of war as deriving from the status of soldier. The introduction of the concept of reputation, however, raises an important question. It has been assumed by René Jouet, on the basis of Poolin’s letter, that contemporaries made a clear distinction between criminals and soldiers.44 Had this been the case, however, there is every reason to believe that the final passage would have been formulated differently; the question would have been more straightforward, such as, for example, were these men soldiers or criminals? In fact, one wonders why these men would need to be questioned by judicial officials to determine whether they were soldiers. The question raised by this document is more subtle. Could anyone involved in guerrilla warfare (‘lurking in the wood or by the roads’) be considered as a legitimate soldier? The answer is not straightforward, as the next case suggests.45 Guillaume Leheux had been considered as a legitimate ‘prisonnier de guerre’ by his keeper, the English esquire John Stille, during his detention in 1428, which had lasted for five weeks and five days. This had been on the grounds that he had been captured whilst riding a horse together with ‘anemis’ (enemies) of the king and that he had never sworn allegiance to the English king. Yet, during the time of his captivity, other ‘brigans et adversaires’ (brigands and adversaries) of the king who had also been examined accused Leheux of being a ‘brigan et larron des boys’ (brigand inconveniens se pourroient ensuir’. BnF, Ms. Fr. 26050, no. 873; as cited by Lefèvre de Pontalis ‘Épisodes’, 54 (1893), 475–521, at p. 520, n. 5. 43 AN, KK 648, no. 12 (4 May 1428). 44 Jouet, La Résistance, pp. 42–3. 45 The facts are reported in a letter of the lieutenant of the bailli of Cotentin. BL, Add. Ch. 3622 (24 April 1428).

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Criminal charges against prisoners of war and thief of the forest).The English authorities accepted this, and Leheux was sentenced to death. How should we interpret this case? Leheux was a soldier entitled to the status of prisoner of war, as were the other ‘enemies’ of the king in whose company he was riding when he was captured.Yet he lost this status when he was denounced by other alleged brigands who accused him of having participated in activities similar to their own. They no doubt did not like the prospect of being executed if Leheux was going to be ransomed.This case also suggests that recognised French soldiers, and not simply ‘peasants driven to the woods’, could be charged as criminals. C ri mi nal charge s against p ris one r s of war A side effect of the relentless pursuit of brigands by the English also shows itself through the criminalisation of otherwise legitimate prisoners of war. It was not just their style of guerrilla warfare that threatened to deny soldiers their status as prisoners of war but also any form of criminal activity which could be held against them. Leheux is labelled as ‘larron des bois’, which translates literally as ‘robber of the woods’.This charge is not well defined, and the rules are not transparent, but this relative vagueness, as we will see, might be used to serve political purposes. The trials and tribulations of the Norman esquire of the garrison of Mont-Saint-Michel, Jean de Mathan, are reported in a grant of safe-conduct issued by Henry VI in May 1426.46 Mathan was captured in August 1424 and detained in the castle of Hambye by his captor, William Godebec, an English esquire. He had never before sworn allegiance to the English king. Nevertheless, Godebec knew that his prisoner had participated in several raids in the Norman countryside where he had killed some English subjects, both soldiers and civilians. As a result, he was not sure whether he could consider him as his legitimate ‘prisonnier de guerre ou s’il seroit pugny criminelment’ (prisoner of war or if he was to be punished as a common criminal).47 He decided to consult his captain, William de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, who was besieging Mayenne at that time. Suffolk declared that, provided he swore allegiance to the English king, Mathan ‘demouroit et seroit prisonnier de guerre’ (would remain and be prisoner of war), and, as such, could be ransomed by his master. Mathan agreed. His ransom was fixed at the significant amount of 200 eo and 10 silver marks, and Suffolk provided him with a safe-conduct to raise the money. As he was not able to pay his debt on

  Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. i, pp. 244–7, no. 81 (May 1426). Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. i, p. 246.

46 47

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy time, Mathan was eventually compelled to petition the king for a renewal of his safe-conduct. The sovereign agreed provided that he became a good and loyal subject. Rowe built on this case to define the line between brigands and soldiers.48 The fact that Suffolk decided that Mathan could be held as a prisoner of war proved, according to Rowe, that as a general rule soldiers were never considered as brigands. This assumption is not tenable. The letter is evidence that the penalty of death could hang even over regular soldiers. It is also evidence of the political use of such a threat in order to rally a Norman rebel to English obedience. Mathan was threatened with being treated as a criminal but his life was ultimately saved.This was not just a question of money. What allowed him to escape death was his promise to change allegiance and to become a good and loyal subject of the English crown. We know that he honoured his word since his name appears in a list of names of knights and esquires and other notables in the vicomté of Caen who were summoned to be part of the suite accompanying Richard, duke of York, in November 1444, when he escorted Marguerite d’Anjou, who had been betrothed to Henry VI.49 It must be highlighted that this case is unique, although this may be the result of uneven source survival. The registers of letter of remissions issued by the French chancellery, from which the relevant document is extracted, only rarely include grants of safe-conducts. They do include some letters of remissions granted to prisoners who claimed to have been forced to change allegiance, in addition to, or instead of, paying their ransom.50 But most of these changes of allegiance were not political; as described in the letters of remission, it was the prisoner’s inability to pay his ransom which was at the origin of most of these changes of allegiance. This remark is valid for the whole period of the Hundred Years War.51 A transfer of allegiance was an act of treason, of course, for which they sought pardon from the authorities. The distress of bankrupt prisoners Rowe, ‘John Duke of Bedford’, p. 594. 49 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. ii, p. 177, no. 144 (24 November 1444). 50 AN, JJ 172, no. 435 (March 1423); AN, JJ 172, no. 572 (July 1424); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 296–8, no. 242 (10 July 1434). 51 The registers of letters of pardon provide countless examples of prisoners throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries who agreed to serve the enemy because they had no other solution for paying their ransom. Documents inédits pour servir à l’histoire du Maine au XIVe siècle, B. de Broussillon, ed. (Le Mans, 1905), no. 199 (7 March 1373); Les Pays de la Loire moyenne dans le trésor des chartes: Berry, Blésois, Chartrain, Orléanais,Touraine, 1350–1502, B. Chevalier, ed. (Paris, 1993), p. 59, no. 530, p. 31, no. 266; CPR 1381–5, p. 381 (19 February 1384); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 31–3, no.  14 (June 1423); pp.  82–7, no.  33 (April 1424); pp.  150–3, no.  63 (November 1424); vol.  ii, pp. 149–53, no. 198 (18 September 1429); pp. 154–7, no. 199 (22 July 1431); AN, JJ 172, no. 315 (July 1423); JJ 173, no. 517 (May 1426). See also AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (1434); BnF, Ms. Fr. 25773, no. 1143; Rotuli Normanniae, pp. 195, 234. 48

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Criminal charges against prisoners of war cannot be better illustrated than by the pitiful story of the Norman knight, Gilet de Lointren.52 The first capture of Lointren dates back to 1420 when he was taken by Englishmen from the garrison of Danville on his return from raiding activities to his garrison at Mortagnes. He was put to ransom at 90 so, which he managed to pay only after a six-month-long captivity. After that, he joined the garrison of Senonches and claimed to have made some profits from raids before he was again captured by English soldiers from Verneuil in 1423. His ransom was fixed at the same rate, but this time he simply could not afford it. He therefore had been forced to change allegiance and to serve his English masters in order to avoid dying in prison. Eight days later, while on his way back from Laigle where he had brought wine, Lointren was yet again captured by French soldiers from Nogent. He was threatened with execution for treason, but the captain of Senonches saved his life by testifying that he had changed allegiance to the English to save his life. He was ransomed by his French masters but was forced to return to the French obedience as he could not pay his debt. He was captured later by the Englishmen from Beaumesnil who ransomed him for 40 so. Whether or not they ignored or chose to ignore his multiple changes of allegiances is not specified. He received a safe-conduct to raise the money for his ransom but was captured yet again by Englishmen from Verneuil who intended to have him judged and executed. The sentence of death was pronounced. This incredible story does not end here: a fifteen-year-old girl of Verneuil asked to marry him. The execution was postponed, and the king gave him his grace. Let us return to the political uses of criminal charges held against prisoners of war. The two following examples date from the late 1430s when the situation in Normandy, as we have mentioned earlier, was a matter of serious concern for the English government. Richard Merbury, bailli of Gisors, was reminded by a letter of Henry VI, dated 5 July 1437, of his mission to seize the fortress of Baudémont (Lower Normandy) by any means.53 To this end, the king wanted to inform Merbury that some soldiers in the retinue of Pierre Bourcier, the captain of Baudémont, had recently been captured by John Talbot and given over to justice in Vernon. They had all been charged with several crimes against the king and his lordship. According to the letter, on the very day of their capture the French captives had ‘robbed, plundered and ruined’ some English subjects who were paying them pâtis (protection money).54 For these 52 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 82–7, no. 33 (April 1424). 53 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26063, no. 3217 (5 July 1437). 54 ‘lesquelx ont esté examinez par justice et trouvez chargiez d’avoir commis plusieurs crimes envers nous et notre seigneurie et mesmes le jour de leur prinse venoient de brigandié, piller et destruire noz subgiez, jasoit ce que ilz feussent apaticez a ladicte forteresse’.

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy reasons, in the eyes of the English king they were ‘dignes de pugnicion capital’ (worthy of capital punishment). Some of them had already been executed by the time of Henry’s letter.The remaining captives were awaiting their imminent fate. However, because of their acquaintance with Bourcier, the king engaged Merbury to bring the surviving prisoners before the fortress of Baudémont, in an attempt to obtain its evacuation in exchange for their release.55 Merbury’s quittance only six days later to Pierre Baille, receiver-general of Normandy, reveals that he had come to an agreement with Bourcier.56 The latter would evacuate the fortress of Baudémont for a money payment and the return of three prisoner-hostages he had left in Pont-de-l’Arche as pledges for the payment of his own ransom.57 There is no mention of the other prisoners who were to be brought before the fortress to persuade its defenders to surrender. Whatever their eventual fate, this case shows that soldiers who had been sentenced to death as criminals or traitors could be reinstated as legitimate prisoners of war to serve strategic purposes. The Borgne de Nocé did not escape death in 1438.58 Nocé, ‘tenant le party de noz ennemis et adversaires’ (belonging to the party of our enemies and opponents), was captured by the English esquire, William Herdson, towards the end of the year.59 A ransom of more than 3,000 so would have been agreed between the two men but the seneschal of Normandy had prevented the transaction from materialising. Having heard of the numerous crimes previously committed by Nocé, the seneschal came to Lisieux where the prisoner had been detained, seized him and put him on trial. These events are related in a letter of Henry VI in which Nocé is described as an experienced captain who regularly levied troops and undertook many raids throughout Normandy, taking prisoners, booty and committing murders.60 The prisoner was eventually found 55 If the bailli was able to seal an agreement with Bourcier, the king suggested paying the captors of the French prisoners the usual 6 lt as if they had been handed over to justice and executed, the same amount having been paid to the captors of the other prisoners who had already been sent to the gallows. 56 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26063, no. 3239 (11 July 1437). 57 Richard Merbury had purchased the hostages of Bourcier who were in the hands of the English esquire, Philip Ferrour, for 400 so. The sum was deducted from a greater amount which has been agreed between Merbury and Bourcier for the evacuation of Baudémont. 58 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26065, no. 3647 (20 December 1438). 59 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26065, no. 3647 (20 December 1438). 60 ‘Brogne de Nossey estoit homme de grant emprinse et convaigne et qui tres souvent venoit et se tenoit a grant compaignie de gens en plusieurs parties de notre pais de Normendie et mesmement es vicontez d’Auge, d’Orbec, Pontaudemer, Caen, Faloize et Argenthen faisant lui et ses compaignons sur notre povre peuple et subgets plusieurs prinses de leurs corps et biens, ravissemens, murdres, larrecins et autresz maulx et oppressions innumerables ou grant prejudice de nous, noz seignourie et subgez dessus dit’.

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Criminal charges against prisoners of war guilty of multiple crimes and executed, all this in spite of the fact that, in the words of the royal letter, Nocé was, by right, ‘prisonnier de guerre’ (prisoner of war) of William Herdson since he had not previously taken an oath of fealty to the English king. The king ordered 600 lt to be levied on the six Norman vicomtés where Nocé led his raiding activities as compensation for Herdson. Interestingly, the English government almost admired the great stature of this experienced captain and even recognised his status as prisoner of war, but only to deny its first and basic rule: the protection of the life of the prisoner.61 This is evidence that the status of prisoner of war was not firmly fixed within military practice. The letter implied that Nocé was a legitimate prisoner of war because he had not previously sworn allegiance to the English king. Leheux and Talbot’s prisoners, therefore, should also have been considered as prisoners of war, but they were not. The answer to this problem may be a question of status. There was still a reluctance to condemn higher-status prisoners despite their crimes.This may be the explanation. Nocé would have been a noble, like Mathan, and, in addition, a great captain. Why he ultimately lost his life is probably because he represented too great a menace to the English in their current situation. The last case betrays a sense of despair at the end of the war.The events concerned are mentioned in a plea in a suit brought before the Parlement of Paris in 1447.62 Jean Martin, a native of Normandy, was sued by ‘un riches homes anglois’ (a rich Englishman) called Walter Bernard, who had paid his ransom. Martin told the court that English soldiers from Avranches had captured him. Fearing for his life, he pretended to be from the Limousin. According to him, had the English soldiers known that he was from Normandy, there was no doubt in his mind that they would have executed him by drowning, since such was the custom.63 His ransom amounted to 40 so, which he never paid. Ungracefully, Martin denied the validity of his obligation towards his creditors in arguing that the document wrongfully stated that he was from the Limousin. The question is whether these executions were carried out in a spirit of revenge or whether they were part of a stronger policy adopted to redress the situation in Normandy.64 Before drawing any conclusion, it is important to note here that cases of ransom outweigh the incidence of criminal charges against enemy 61 Unfortunately, I have not managed to gather further information about him. 62 AN, X1a 4801, fol. 289v (12 June 1447). 63 ‘[P]ar l’usance qui avoient lors, l’eussent fait noier’. AN, X1a 4801, fol. 289v (12 June 1447). 64 There was still hope for recovery after Arras: ‘conditions on the frontier could improve substantially once the uncertainties of war ended’, according to M. K. Jones, ‘War on the Frontier: The Lancastrian Land Settlement in Eastern Normandy, 1435–50’, NMS, 33 (1989), 104–21, at p. 119.

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Status and politics in Lancastrian Normandy soldiers. Many cases of ransom are found in the counter-rolls of English garrisons in Normandy for this period, which have survived in great numbers.65 These counter-rolls were compiled every three months by a man-at-arms of the garrison, who was independent of the captain and paid directly by the financial administration of the duchy. Their primary function was to reduce the amount of fraud in the accountancy of the garrisons and to ensure that the crown profited from gains of war.To this end, the controllers made a detailed inventory of the prisoners captured as well as of the profits made from booty and ransoms. These controls show that the identification of prisoners was important.66 Brigands and traitors would be delivered to justice, but many prisoners were eventually ransomed. Contamine noted the survival of 200 counter-rolls between 1420 and 1440, of which only fifty-six include gains of war.67 The ransoms of 260 prisoners were fixed or paid. Given that these fifty-six accounts must cover about 2,000 to 3,000 English soldiers, these figures are derisory. According to Contamine, the reason for this lies in the nature of the sources, which only reveal the tip of the iceberg.68 He argued that most profits of war must have remained undeclared and highlighted the fact that the counter-rolls do not include the gains made by armies who were involved in large-scale military operations. It is also important to note that the English crown could not count on the undivided support of its own soldiers in trying to enforce its interventionst policies. We have seen that the interests of the authorities clashed with those of the soldiers where the ransoming of prisoners of war was concerned. Brigands, too, were a source of tension between soldiers and the authorities. The latter complained on several occasions that English soldiers continued to ransom brigands despite orders to hand them over to justice. On occasion, the authorities even found it necessary to make concessions in the form of compensation to captors for the loss of the ransoms of more important prisoners who had been executed as criminals. They paid 600 lt for the capture of Nocé; 200 lt for Jean Symon, a captain of brigands;69 75 lt for a brigand called ‘Favière’.70 In 1433, a huge 2,000 eo was levied on the baillage of Caen and Cotentin The origins, functions and developments of the office of controller are given close scrutiny in R. A. Newhall, Muster and Review: A Problem of English Military Administration 1420–1440 (Cambridge, Mass., 1940), pp. 40–1, 50 ff. 66 The chamber of accounts required the controller of Arques to make further enquiry about some of the prisoners in 1431. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25770, no. 634. See also BnF, Ms. Fr. 25769, no. 580, bis (1430); Ms. Fr. 25769 and bis (1430). 67 Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, pp. 256–7. 68 Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, pp. 264–5. 69 BL, Add. Ch. 12144 (6 November 1441). 70 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. ii, pp. 159–60, no. 233 (21 August 1443). 65

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Conclusion for the ransom that had been promised for the capture of the Norman knight Pierre le Porc and his surrender to the officers of justice.71 Conclusion There was every reason to expect that the treaty of Troyes would lead to a stiffening of the English policies over the question of prisoners of war. It is therefore surprising to see that the downgrading of the partisans of the Dauphin Charles to the status of rebels had no real impact on their status as prisoners of war. One could still be considered an enemy rebel, become a prisoner of war once captured and be released subsequently against the payment of a ransom. Interestingly, the same rules applied in the pre-Troyes era. The special status that Normandy enjoyed under the reign of Henry V, and the battle defeats of 1423 and 1424 that forced the enemy towards guerrilla tactics in English-held territory, created a more favourable ground for political interference. These attempts from above to control the ransom business were limited. The strongest forms of interference, such as bans on ransoms, were as exceptional as they were short-lived, being firmly rooted within the context in which they were issued. And lighter, but longer-term interventions, such as those concerning restrictions on the issue of safe-conducts, were contravened by the soldiers. The problem raised by guerrilla warfare in occupied territory needs to be seen from a broader historical perspective. Such insurgents would not automatically be granted combatant status, nor could they be sure they would not be tried as common criminals. The pursuit and execution of so-called brigands lies within this framework. The fact that this pursuit, through a process of criminalisation, extended to individuals who could otherwise have been considered legitimate soldiers and be granted the status of prisoners of war, resulted from the absence of a professional army at that time. Who could be considered a soldier? It is fascinating to note the emergence of such an issue in the English proclamations in Normandy. The first appearances of the term ‘prisoner of war’ (in both French and Latin) in the sources can perhaps be linked to the need of the authorities to differentiate the prisoner of war from the criminal and traitor.72 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol.  ii, p.  16, no.  137 (30 May 1433). The bailli of Coutances escorted him to Saint-Lô on 14 April 1434. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25771, no. 867 (June 1434). However, Le Porc found a way out of prison, as we find him involved in a legal case concerning the ransom of an English knight, Thomas Aulton, in 1436. AN, X1a 9193, 177r (28 September 1436). 72 See pp. 4–7. 71

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Chapter 4

T he p roc e s s of r a ns omi n g (I): Fro m ca ptu r e to ca pti v i ty

The process of ransoming amounted to much more than the sum of the legal processes and documents – contracts, obligations, safe-conducts and receipts (quittances) – which it generated. An examination of the legal and political frameworks of the ransom world in the first three chapters of this book has highlighted the considerable freedom of action which masters and prisoners enjoyed. What did masters and prisoners do with this freedom of action? What difficulties did masters and prisoners face, and how did they solve them? This chapter provides a close step-by step examination of the process of ransoming from capture to captivity. T he lure of p rof it s The moment of capture can only be fully understood in the light of what had fed the imagination of soldiers before they enrolled in the armies. Almost all of the chroniclers who reported the English campaigns in France of the 1340s and 1350s commented on the great personal fortunes made from war.1 Froissart’s amazement at the gains made by the English in the aftermath of Poitiers (1356) is unsurpassed: those who fought in this battle ‘furent riche d’onneur et d’avoir, tant parmi les raençons des prisons, comme pour le gaaing d’or et d’argent qui là fu trouvés, tant en vasselle d’or et d’argent, et en riches jeuiaus, en malles farsis de chaintures riches et pesans et de bons mantiaus’ (became rich in honour and possessions, as much from the ransoms of captives as from the gain of gold and silver found there in the form of vessels, and gold and silver belts, and precious jewels, and chests crammed with costly and weighty girdles and fine cloaks).2 Froissart, as other chroniclers, often drew information from J. Barnie, War in Medieval Society: Social Values and the Hundred Years War, 1337–99 (London, 1974), pp. 33–5. 2 Froissart, SHF, vol. v, p. 61; translated in Barnie, War in Medieval Society, p. 35. 1

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The lure of profits eyewitnesses, such as heralds and combatants. Their tales of riches gained in war is thus indicative of widely held attitudes and cannot have been unfounded. But their level of veracity is not the most important element. What matters is the fact that such stories, which were no doubt also circulating orally, struck people’s imagination. Their impact was immediate. Froissart reported that, when the news of England’s great expedition of 1359 became known, knights, esquires and men-at-arms flocked to Calais to await the arrival of the English king.3 Sir Thomas Gray described a veritable ‘gold rush’ in France in the 1360s, supposedly a period of peace: they came in astonishing numbers, all of them on their own account without any leader … And yet they were nothing but a gathering of commoners, young men, who until this time had been of but little account, who became exceedingly rich and [gained] expertise from this war … many beginning as archers, and then becoming knights, and some of them captains, and it has not been possible to detail all of their battles at the time they took place, because of their variety.4

In reading these lines, we can call to mind the popular myth surrounding the modest social origins and subsequent elevation of Robert Knolles.5 The impact that the prospect of profits must have had on the soldiery is also shown in measures taken by the English crown during the cessation of formal war between 1360 and 1369. Edward III was obliged to threaten with penalties any disruption to the Peace of Brétigny-Calais (1360).6 He fined some English captains, such as Thomas Fogg, Gregory Sais, Matthew Gournay and John of Saint-Loo, who were acting as freebooters, but these men were quickly back in favour in the 1370s when war with France had resumed and the English monarchy most needed

3 Froissart, SHF, vol. v, p. 190; Barnie, War in Medieval Society, p. 34. 4 T. Gray, Scalacronica: The Reigns of Edward I, Edward II and Edward III, H. Maxwell, transl. (Glasgow, 1907), p. 131;T. Gray, Scalacronica, 1272–1363, A. King, ed. and transl. (Woodbridge, 2005), pp. 153, 157. I preferred Maxwell’s translation of ‘devindrent pussauntz d’avoir’ as ‘became exceedingly rich’, to King’s ‘have a great standing’. 5 On the life and career of Robert Knolles, see M. C. E. Jones ‘Knolles [Knollys], Sir Robert (d. 1407), Soldier’ in ODNB. The ‘rise of the esquires’ is a phenomenon that has been identified and investigated by several English historians. The link to war profits, however, is not clearly substantiated. P. R. Coss, ‘The Formation of the English Gentry’, PP, 147 (1995), 38–64; ‘Knights, Esquires and the Origins of Social Gradation’, TRHS, 6th series, 5 (1995), 156–68; A. Ayton, ‘Knights, Esquires and Military Service: The Evidence of the Armorial Cases Before the Court of Chivalry’, in A. Ayton and J. L. Price, eds., The Medieval Military Revolution: State, Society and Military Change in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (New York, 1995), pp.  81–104; M. Keen, Origins of the English Gentleman: Heraldry, Chivalry and Gentility in Medieval England, c.1300–c.1500 (Stroud, 2002), Chap. 5. 6 Allmand, Society at War, pp. 92–3.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity them.7 More strikingly, the English crown implemented a reform in the ‘indenture package’ in the 1360s–1370s. The clause relating to the restauro equorum – a costly system of compensation for the loss of warhorses in wartime – disappeared from indentures at that time. In return, the crown dropped its claim from half to a third of the profits of war, with a similar change in the proportions claimed by captains from their men.8 This reform could be interpreted as a deliberate attempt by the government to promote the lure of profits in order to save money by ending the system of horse compensation. This purpose is more obvious in the terms of the indenture for the expedition of Robert Knolles in 1370.9 It was anticipated that the English contingent would only be paid by the crown for the first thirteen weeks of the campaign. Thenceforward, ­soldiers, including the commanders, were expected to finance themselves through proceeds of war: ransoms and booty.10 These cases indicate that the prospect of profits was deep-rooted in the military mentality and that the government was well aware of this and keen to take advantage of it. The lure of profits became so prevalent that, by the end of the fourteenth century, a new criticism of warfare, along with the longer-standing concern that knights did not live up to the high standards expected of them, was their excessive materialism. This finds its clearest expression in the poetry of John Gower (c. 1330–1408), for whom avarice was the driving force of combatants.11 For Nigel Saul, this criticism was mainly focused on the free companies that ravaged the French countryside in the 1360s.This would suggest that there was a clear demarcation between In 1376, William Wykeham had to answer in front of the Good Parliament for the fines he had given to Matthew Gournay, Thomas Fogg, John St.-Loo, Gregory Sais and ‘Robert de Ewes’ (not identified) and many other captains, since these men ‘had nobly travailed in the king’s war against the enemies’. These men had probably been correctly punished for their misdeeds in the 1360s. But, in the summer of 1376, the situation had changed radically; Wykeham had suddenly fallen into disgrace while these captains were in great favour. V. Davis, William Wykeham: A Life (London, 2007), pp. 59–63. For the case of Gournay, in particular, who was fined £2,400 and later compensated, see TNA, SC 8/113/5629 (c. 1377–c. 1380); 103/5114 (c. 1378).  8 On the transition to this new package, see Bean, From Lord to Patron, pp. 238–44; Ayton, Knights and Warhorses, pp. 127–37.  9 TNA E 101/68/4, no. 90, cited in Sherborne, ‘Indentured Retinues’, p. 6, no. 22. See also Foedera (PRO), vol. iii/ii, pp. 894–5 (1 July 1369). 10 That there was ‘no precedent for contractual service without pay before 1369 is known, but this occurs again on a more limited scale in 1375, when the Crown promised payment for only six of the twelve months’ service stipulated by indenture.’ J. W. Sherborne, ‘Indentured Retinues and English Expeditions to France, 1369–80’, EHR, 79 (1964), 718–46, at p. 7; see also K. Fowler, Medieval Mercenaries, vol. i: The Great Companies (Oxford and Malden, Mass., 2000), pp. 289–90. 11 J. Gower, Vox Clamantis, book 5, chapter 8; book 7, chapter 1 in The Major Latin Works of John Gower, E. W. Stockton, ed. (Seattle, Wash., 1962), pp. 207–8, 255; N. Saul, ‘A Farewell to Arms? Criticism of Warfare in Late Fourteenth-Century England’, in C. Given-Wilson, ed., Fourteenth Century England, vol. ii (Woodbridge, 2002), pp. 131–46, especially at p. 133.  7

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The lure of profits the freebooters and regular English captains, which there was not.12 When Gower was writing in the 1380s and 1390s, the perception of war as a commercial enterprise was prevalent and was firmly anchored within military society. According to the Annales Ricardi Secundi, the fear of an end to war with France was enough to prompt rebellion in Cheshire in 1393. The county’s soldiery had been deeply involved in the king’s wars, and the peace proposals of the early 1390s were perceived as posing a major threat to the well-being of the military community.13 English profits from war had also caught the French imagination. Bertrand Du Guesclin observed, during a war council held in Paris in September 1373, that ‘these [English victories] have damaged too much your realm, and the nobles who took part in them were so puffed up with pride that they praise no other nation than their own, because of the great ransoms they acquired which enriched and emboldened them.’14 If any emotion stands out from his remark, it is jealousy rather than disapproval. Rapacity was not exclusively English, of course, but it was more easily associated with the English because of their early successes and because most of the Hundred Years War was fought on French soil. This did not prevent French soldiers laying waste to their own countryside under the pretext that they had not been adequately paid for their services.15 The desire to make money was a characteristic of late medieval combatants in general. The quest for profits was legal, and even honourable in the eyes of the fifteenth-century Burgundian knight, Guillebert de Lannoy. He told his son, ‘in the effort of war it may happen to a wise, courageous and virtuous man that he takes a prisoner of such great wealth in land and lordship that he will become, and remain, rich for the rest of his own life and those of his heirs.’16 This piece of chivalric wisdom was all the more pertinent since Lannoy himself was captured at Agincourt and subsequently ransomed by the English knight Sir John Cornwall.17

See Fowler, Medieval Mercenaries, pp. 297, 323–8. 13 Annales Ricardi secondi, H. T. Riley, ed. (London, 1866), p. 160; J. Bellamy, ‘Northern Rebellions in Later Years of Richard II’, BJRUL, 47 (1965), 254–74; N. Saul, Richard II (New Haven, Conn., 1997), pp. 219–20. 14 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 161–2; Letters, Orders and Musters, p. 218 (no. 583); see also F. Autrand, Charles V le Sage (Paris, 1994), pp. 599–600. 15 It was a criticism addressed by the monk of Saint-Denis following the defeat of Agincourt. Saint-Denis, Histoire de Charles VI, vol. v, p. 581; Curry, Sources, p. 336. 16 Extract from ‘Les Enseignements paternels’ in Œuvres de Ghillebert de Lannoy: voyageur, diplomate et moraliste, Ch. Potvin and J.-C. Houzeau, eds. (Louvain, 1878), p. 471. 17 His own testimony (Œuvres de Ghillebert de Lannoy, pp. 49 and 50) is substantiated by the delivery of two safe-conducts: the first to go to the king of England on 6 December 1415 (TNA, C 76/98, m. 6) and the second on 8 February 1416 to go to France (TNA, C 76/98, m. 3). See also Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 767–8, 773. 12

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity T he game of cap ture What impact did the all-pervading lure of profit have on soldiers’ behaviour, especially when it came to the capture of prisoners of war? The rules concerning capture were numerous and, at times, confusing and contradictory. They do little to disguise the high stakes involved in one man trying to capture another for the sake of profit, nor do they diminish the ferocity of the medieval battlefield. Rules and circumstances For Françoise Bériac-Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson, ‘it was perhaps the single most important task of the medieval battlefield commander to do his best to ensure that this quest for individual profit was subordinated to the collective discipline of the army.’ 18 The higher rate of mortality and the relatively small number of soldiers captured on battlefields in the last two centuries of the Middle Ages which these authors highlight may, according to them, simply be the result of a ‘no quarter’ order emanating from the authorities, as at Courtrai (1302) and Crécy (1346).19 Yet there is much more evidence in that period of battles where prisoners – and often a rich haul of them – were taken. To quote only the best known, we have Poitiers (which Given-Wilson and Bériac consider exceptional in terms of prisoner-taking), Launac, Auray, Agincourt (despite the murder of French prisoners at the end), Baugé, Cravant, Verneuil (despite the execution of the Scottish prisoners), Patay, Formigny and Castillon.20 Instructions of a full no quarter, and evidence of large-scale slaughter, seem to predate the Hundred Years War or, at least, to concern only its early stage: the examples of Cassel (1328) and L’Écluse (1340) could be added here to those of Courtrai and Crécy.21 It is possible that once the English had enjoyed success in the 1340s, thereby stimulating the prospect of fortunes to be made, it was no longer possible to supress private interests and an individual quest for profit. Government rules left much opportunity for captures to be made. In addition to disciplinary controls, which we will return to in due course, 18 Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wison, ‘Edward III’s Prisoners’, p. 827; Poitiers, pp. 327–8. 19 See different explanations for this higher rate of mortality in M. Prestwich, Armies and Warfare in the Middle Ages: The English Experience (New Haven, Conn., 1996), pp. 331–2; Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, pp. 256–8, 289; C. J. Rogers, ‘The Age of the Hundred Years War’, in M. Keen, ed., Medieval Warfare: A History (Oxford, 1999), p. 199; as cited in Poitiers, pp. 325–6. 20 For the political slaughter of the Scottish prisoners at Verneuil, see M. K. Jones, ‘The Battle of Verneuil (17 August 1424): Toward a History of Courage’, War in History, 9 (2002), 375–411, at pp. 405–7. 21 Poitiers, p. 311.

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The game of capture the basic concern of the authorities, as expressed in various ordinances of war from the time of Poitiers to the reign of Henry V, was to incite captors to keep on fighting. The Black Prince testified in a trial concerning the ownership of the count of Dammartin that he had proclaimed before the battle of Poitiers that ‘no man will remain with his prisoner under penalty of imprisonment, but every captor is guaranteed to have the prisoners who have pledged their word to him first.’22 Yet the court decided to split the profits from the ransom of Dammartin between John Trailly, who had captured the count and took his faith in the first place, and a soldier in the service of Sir John Blankmouster, who found the count afterwards unguarded, forced him to give his faith to him and kept him safely in custody. The paradoxical need of the authorities that soldiers should keep on fighting yet at that same time that they should not leave their prisoners to their own devices, resulted in rather clumsy terms in the Durham ordinances (1385): if some feat of arms is performed, as a result of which an enemy is brought to the ground, and he who has thus brought him to the ground then moves off ahead in the pursuit, and then another person arrives and receives a pledge from this same enemy, the other person shall have half of the prisoner while the person who had originally knocked him down shall have the other half; however, he who took the pledge shall have the keeping of the prisoner, giving surety to his partner.23

This particular article is to be found in all surviving ordinances (1385, c. 1415–21), with minor modifications or precisions. For instance, in the Durham ordinances of 1385, the action of the first captor has to be ‘acknowledged and proven’.24 A further article in the same Durham ordinances strongly advised any captor to secure his rights over his prisoner by taking his faith, as well as acquiring further material evidence of his ownership, such as the prisoner’s bassinet or right gauntlet, or else to leave him guarded.25 If the captor did otherwise, he was in danger of losing his rights over the prisoner. The importance of taking the faith of the prisoner was further highlighted in a set of ordinances promulgated by Henry V, probably in 1415: since in conflict and acts of war prisoners are often taken, and because of fear of the enemy a man cannot keep his prisoner in his custody, we wish to put a rule Poitiers, pp. 182–3, 336–9. 23 Translated from the French by Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290. 24 Curry,‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290, item 12.A similar clause is included in the Franco-Scottish ordinances (p. 294). For other versions of this article in ordinances of war issued in the reign of Henry V, see Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 242. 25 Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 291. 22

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity in writing where we declare that whoever takes the faith of an enemy will have that prisoner, even if he has not kept that prisoner in his custody, to the end of the conflict, unless the said prisoner is found afterwards to defend himself.26

The provision concerning the protection owed to the prisoner disappears in the Mantes ordinances, which can be dated to 1419 or 1421.27 There is an interesting reference to the actual moment of capture in the English and the Franco-Scottish ordinances, which both date to 1385. The Durham ordinances, as we have seen, speak of a man bringing an enemy to the ground before moving off in pursuit (‘va avant pur la chace’),28 while the Edinburgh ordinances set the capture during the mounted pursuit (‘a la chace de cheval’).29 The chasse (modern spelling), which literally translates as ‘hunt’, corresponds to a specific phase of the battle: the pursuit of a defeated enemy forced to retreat, during which fortunes could be made.This was the case at Poitiers in 1356, according to Froissart: ‘la cace de la desconfiture dura jusques es portes de Poitiers; et la eut grant occision … et y eut là pluiseurs Engles, arciers et aultres, qui avoient quatre, cinq ou six prisonniers’ (the pursuit after the defeat lasted until [the French reached] the gates of Poitiers; where there were a great many French killed … and several English, archers and others, who had in their hands four, five or six prisoners).30 Why is it that this particular context of capture was singled out in the military ordinances? Had the article only applied to captures made during pursuit, this would surely have been made clearer. Rather, it seems that pursuit was considered as the main context of capture. This may be explained by the fact that commanders had ordered that no prisoners should be taken until victory was secured. The pursuit was therefore the main, if not the only, opportunity to take prisoners. This is not unusual. John the Fearless’s battle plan, drawn up before Paris in September 1417, for instance, included the order that nul, de quelque estat qu’il fust, ne fust si hardy que de prendre prisonniers au jour de la bataille, jusques à ce que on voye plainement que le champ soit gaingné, et que si on en prent aucun, tantost soit occis, avec celui qui l’aura prins s’il en fait aucun reffus no one, whatever his status, should be so bold as to take prisoners on the day of the battle, until it is plainly obvious that the field has been won; and that, if

Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 246. 27 Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 246. 28 For the original text in French, see Black Book, vol. i, p. 455; Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 287. 29 Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 292. 30 Froissart, SHF, vol. v, p. 53. 26

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The game of capture any prisoner is taken (before the field has been won), he will be killed, and so will his captor if he refuses (that his prisoner be killed).31

Why did such an order not appear in the earlier ordinances? Why was mention of the chasse omitted from later English ordinances (c. 1415– 21)? Might it be interpreted as a relaxation of the rules under Henry V? At Agincourt, the duke of Alençon was killed in the heart of the mêlée whilst he was surrendering to Henry, even though the latter was apparently ready to take his oath.32 This episode shows two things about Agincourt: first, that the taking of prisoners had not been banned at any stage of the battle; second, that it was logistically difficult to take a prisoner in the heat of the fight.33 Indeed, we can wonder, as Anne Curry has done, how capture of prisoners in the mêlée, their disarming, the taking of their faith, and their likely removal from the field were feasible when the fight was continuing.34 Even if the captor was assisted by one of his servants, which is highly probable, problems might still arise. Unless a proper ambush was set which left no other option for soldiers but to surrender, the same practical issues would be raised for any encounter regardless of scale.35 A closer scrutiny of the words and deeds of capture highlights further the difficulty of prisoner-taking in the mêlée. Here we must first mention Le Jouvencel (c. 1461–6). The author who was so prompt to celebrate the rules, whether customary or governmental, and their beneficial effects on order and strategy, made no reference at all to the authorities banning the capture of soldiers before victory was secured. Commanders contented themselves with trying to keep their force together. Before Le Jouvencel launched a difficult assault on Escallon, he made sure that his men would not indulge in plunder. He ordered that everyone would share the spoils of war (‘nous serons tous à butin’), both those who were inside the walls as well as those posted outside.36 That way, nobody would lose out by keeping to their assigned position. Elsewhere in the story, Le Jouvencel highlighted the significance of putting in place such a measure before a 31 B. Schnerb, ‘La Bataille rangée dans la tactique des armées bourguignonnes au début du 15e siècle: essai de synthèse’, Annales de Bourgogne, 61 (1989), 5–32, at p. 25. 32 Curry, Agincourt, pp. 214–15. 33 The account of the Gesta Henrici Quinti also seems to indicate that prisoner-taking did occur in the middle of the mêlée. Curry, Agincourt, p. 215. 34 See also Charny’s demand where a prisoner taken by a man-at-arms is killed by another man-atarms despite his efforts to save him. KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 78r; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 95–6. 35 The pursuit was inevitably limited in the context of siege. The game consisted in cutting off the retreat of soldiers who went too far during a sally or counter-sally, as at the siege of Bourges in 1412. Fénin, Mémoires, p. 253. 36 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, pp. 126–9.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity difficult engagement. According to Le Jouvencel, many operations failed because a commander did not proclaim that the spoils of war would be shared: as a result, soldiers broke rank in order to engage in pillaging.37 Echoing Le Jouvencel’s opinion, two French military treatises dating to the late fifteenth century recommend that any army should share the spoils of war.38 These measures betray the heavy weight of private interests. Captains also faced this issue. They must have been torn between strategic needs and private interests: not only could they indulge in pillage and capture, but they also enjoyed a portion of the spoils of war taken by their men. In this respect, Sir John Fastolf may have had the issue of ransom in mind when he suggested in a memorandum drawn up in 1435 that, if the tide were turning against England, it was because her captains were spending too much time seeking their own profit rather than working collectively for the success of the military conquest of France.39 Words and deeds A sign – a hand up  – and/or a word – ‘Je me rends (I surrender)’ or ‘Rançon (Ransom)!’41 – were sufficient for a soldier to make his desire to surrender known to the enemy. These words, and their acknowledgement, saved the life of the man concerned, but they did not seal formally the bond between master and prisoner, as Jean du Châtel reminded John Painter in 1428.42 Du Châtel acknowledged that he surrendered when he was asked to by Painter, but ‘sans autre chose dire, et sans la foy ne dire rescoux ou non rescoux (without saying anything else, and without giving his faith, nor saying rescued or not rescued)’. His claim was strongly contested by the Englishman, who asserted that Du Châtel ‘luy avoit le serment baillé et la foy (gave him his oath and faith)’. The two men exchanged an angry correspondence, at the end of which they agreed to settle their dispute with a duel. The fight took place on 15 August 1427 in Vendôme in the presence of two illustrious knights, Jean de Dunois, bâtard of Orléans, and Etienne de Vigneulles, better known as La Hire. 40

Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 226. 38 B. Stuart, Traité sur l’art de la guerre, Elie de Comminges ed. (La Haye, 1976), pp.  8–9, 20. See also references to Robert de Balsac’s La Nef des princes et des batailles de noblesse (Lyon, 1502) in Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, p. 285. 39 Allmand, Society at War, pp. 34–5; C. T. Allmand, ‘War and Profit in the Late Middle Age’, History Today, 15 (1965), 762–9, at p. 769. 40 Curry, Agincourt, pp. 214. 41 The phrase ‘I surrender’ is common. For a rarer mention of the phrase ‘Rançon!’, see Livre des trahisons, pp. 117. 42 Livre des Miracles, pp. 55–7, no. 104 (11 June 1428). 37

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The game of capture Du Châtel brought Painter down, but spared his life and ransomed him, and later thanked Our Lady Catherine de Fierbois for his victory. This story is particularly instructive.43 Several elements deserve attention. The significance of the taking of a man’s faith or oath in the ordinances of war has already been highlighted. Reading Geoffroy de Charny’s Les Demandes, it would seem that not taking the faith of one’s prisoner was a grave error,44 even if the captor took the precaution to leave his prisoner guarded by one of his varlets.45 How could a simple varlet prevent an unscrupulous man-at-arms taking the faith of the prisoner in his guard? We must ask what constituted the oath, faith, pledge or word of honour that a captor might have little or no time to take, even if it was fundamental in establishing the rights of the captor.There is no straightforward answer to this question, suggesting that contemporaries knew all too well what giving their faith as a prisoner meant, and that it merely amounted to a simple expression such as ‘I give you my faith to be your prisoner’. It seems to have been relatively quick and simple, insignificant enough for a man of Crathor to forget to take it from his prisoner and another to take it behind his back.46 Body language may have accompanied the words and even have replaced them, as Le Jouvencel suggests: ‘quant le prisonnier ne pourroit parler, maiz qu’il touchast de la main, que encores suffisoit-il, mais qu’il touchast ou dedans de la main; et le premier qui touche dedans la main dextre, l’emporte (when the prisoner was not able to speak but touched the hand, this would be enough, provided that he touched the inside of the hand; and the first one to touch the right hand [of the prisoner] wins [him])’.47 The origin of this gesture is probably to be found in the handshake or paumée which sealed an obligation between two contractual parties.48 These words and gestures, along with the seizure of a token or gage, such as the sword,49 the right gauntlet, and/or the bassinet of the prisoner formed the basics.50 43 The dispute between Pierre Pèlerin, from Dauphiné, and Louis de Molpré, from Burgundy, is quite similar. Pèlerin claimed to have taken Molpré prisoner near Anthon, in 1430, ‘recoux ou non rescoux’. Molpré denied this. This case was debated in court. U. Chevalier, ‘Recueil de documents concernant le Dauphiné’, Mémoires publiés par la Société Statistique de l’Isère, 6 (1874), 338–69; analysed and partly transcribed in P. Contamine, Azincourt (Paris, 1964), pp. 116–26. 44 Charny even raised the issue whether a prisoner who had not given his faith might have the right to consider himself free. KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 73v; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, p. 89. 45 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 76rv; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 92–3. 46 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 95.  47  Le Jouvencel, vol. i, p. 224. 48 J. Barmann, ‘Pacta sunt sevanda: considérations sur l’histoire du contrat consensuel’, Revue Internationale du Droit Comparé, 13 (1961), 18–53, at p. 25. 49 Contamine, Azincourt, p. 117; BL, Add. Ms. 15644, fol. 3v–4r (1 February 1442). 50 Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p.  291. See also the story of the capture of the count of Dammartin who gave his faith to several captors and found himself stripped of his two gauntlets, his bassinet, the strap of his sword and an escutcheon of his armour. KLW, p. 165; Poitiers, pp. 180–1, 336–9.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity What was true for ransom contracts was also true for oral faith taking, however: the more accurate and detailed the oath, the better secured were the rights of masters and prisoners. It was in the interests of the prisoner to obtain from his master an undertaking that he would guarantee his safekeeping. This was the objective of two of Charny’s demandes.51 The ‘rescoux or non rescoux (rescued or not rescued)’ provision, as already evoked in the case of Jean Du Châtel, is of particular interest. In theory, a prisoner who gave his faith to his master was deemed to remain his prisoner even if he had opportunity to flee. But what if he was rescued by his allies shortly after his capture? The question is raised by Geoffroy de Charny. He asked other knights whether prisoners captured by a prisoner who had been rescued should consider themselves free, since, rescued or not, a prisoner remained a prisoner and had no right to take prisoners himself.52 Froissart did not express any greater certainty when he awkwardly suggested that if his compatriot, Eustache d’Auberchicourt, refused to reinstate himself as prisoner after being rescued, it could have been because he had never been asked to give his faith in the first place.53 Neither Charny nor Froissart (in this particular instance) mentioned the condition ‘rescoux ou non rescoux’ which masters could impose on their prisoners, and which implied that, whether their prisoners were rescued or not, they would still remain under obligation to them.54 Its application is well attested, however, elsewhere in the chronicles of Froissart.55 In fact, evidence tends to show that it was common during the Hundred Years War.56 It was an integral part of the ransoming practice in Olivier de la Marche’s Chevalier deliberé: ‘Then I surrendered rescued or not / To Age according to his wish /And swore him faith and thrall, / Promising him that I would pay ransom / According to his terms, within my power’.57 The widespread application of this condition of surrender implies that the prospect of

51 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 70v, 79r; also in G. de Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 85 and 96–7. 52 This demand does not feature in the manuscript preserved in Brussels. Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, p. 163. 53 Froissart, KL, vol. v, pp. 15–17; Poitiers, pp. 214–16. 54 A similar situation is described in Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 213. 55 Froissart, SHF, vol. v, p. 51 (twice), vol. ix, p. 122, vol. xii, p. 53, vol. xv, p. 146. 56 We have quoted the cases of Du Châtel (1428) and Pèlerin (1430). See also E.-S. Bougenot, Notices et extraits de manuscrits intéressants l’histoire de France conservés à la bibliothèque impériale de Vienne (Paris, 1892), p. 53 (1425). 57 Olivier de la Marche, Le Chevalier deliberé (The Resolute Knight), C. W. Carroll, ed., L. Hawley Wilson and C. W. Carroll, transl. (Tempe, Ariz., 1999), pp. 118–19. I have retranslated the first line of this verse. In French: ‘Lors me rendis rescoux ou non’, which was translated in the published edition as ‘then, not knowing if I would be rescued, I surrendered.’

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The game of capture rescue was real and happened on a regular basis.58 This, in itself, raises questions about the way battles or minor encounters were fought. It leaves a clear impression of the great confusion which must have reigned but it also reinforces the idea that prisoners had already been taken in the mêlée even when victory had not yet been secured. The moment of truth The prospect of profit, the context of capture (in the mêlée or during pursuit), the words and deeds of surrender (including physical contact) – all these factors and circumstances provided favourable grounds for the use of excessive force. Further evidence of the actual capture shows just how violent this practice could be. The need to compel a soldier to surrender presupposes a hand-to-hand combat in which the soldier was defeated and had no option other than to surrender if he wanted to live. At Agincourt we see a situation where captors pulled prisoners out from piles of the dead, but these may have been exceptional circumstances.59 The alarm described by the English man-at-arms, John Malet,60 in Le Jouvencel is palpable: ‘Je crioye tousjours: “je me rens”; j’avoye paour de la mort; car ilz estoient deoux ou troys qui me serchoient o leurs espées entour la gorge si dru qu’il ne me souvenoit que de mourir (I was still shouting: “I surrender”; I was scared to death; for there were two to three who had their sword so near to my throat that I was sure to die)’.61 The motivation for surrender was, not surprisingly, the fear of death. At the time of Le Jouvencel, it was apparently thought acceptable even for a knight to confess this fear publicly.62 Was this also true in the fourteenth century? Dammartin, who gave his faith to three different persons at the battle of Poitiers, indirectly stated in his testimony that he did it to save his life, but he never mentioned any fear of death.63 One of Charny’s demandes involves a prisoner whose behaviour was almost heroic.64 A man-at-arms who was captured and left unguarded, refused to surrender to a third party despite the threat of death hanging over his head, and despite the fact that The problems raised by rescue are evoked in two demandes of Charny. See n. 49. Examples of rescue abound in the sources. See, for instance, Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 69; Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, p. 314, vol. iv, pp. 62, 271. 59 See the relevant extract from Saint-Denis, Histoire de Charles VI, vol. v, p. 568; translated in Curry, Sources, p. 108. 60 There is evidence of a John Malet in the retinue of the receiver-general, Pierre Baille, in 1443–4. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25776, no. 1614; 25777, no. 1646, 56, 72, 77, 81, 83 (from TSLME). 61 Le Jouvencel, vol. i, pp. 222–4. 62 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, pp. 105, 213. 63 Poitiers, pp. 336–9. 64 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 70v; also in G. de Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, p. 85. 58

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity he had given his faith to his master provided that he would protect his life. The second man wounded him in different parts of his body to force him to yield, but he held firm, and was eventually rescued by some men of his own side.Threats of death were not idle, however high the status of the soldier might be. Bertrand Courant’s refusal to surrender to Bérard III d’Albret, lord of Langoiran, cost him his life in 1379.65 The prisoner may have had more to fear from the companions-in arms of his captor than from the captor himself, as the following article of the Durham ordinances shows: ‘if anyone takes a prisoner, and another person then arrives and demands a share, threatening that otherwise he will kill the prisoner, he shall have no share in the prisoner, even if a share is conceded to him’.66 This was exactly the case for the capture of John Malet in Le Jouvencel. The article in the Durham ordinances goes on to anticipate the possibility of a killing out of greed and pique: ‘and if he should kill the prisoner, he shall be arrested by the marshal without bail until such time as he has made compensation to the first party, and his horses and equipment shall be forfeit to the constable’.67 That such clauses were included in the disciplinary ordinances is particularly suggestive of the high level of competition between soldiers of the same camp. The prospect of catching a ‘big fish’ would have pushed this competition even further. According to Perceval de Cagny, when Joan of Arc was captured, she was surrounded by five or six men, some taking her hand, the others grabbing her horse, each of them asking her to surrender to them, but she replied that she had already given her faith to someone else and she would keep her word.68 Whatever the ordinances said, the only way to avoid stiff competition was to share the spoils of war with other soldiers, forming an association à butin.This was a matter of necessity rather than choice. John Winter’s version of the storming of Le Mans before the Parlement of Paris in 1428 offers a compelling illustration of the law of the jungle.69 According to Winter, John Talbot had sent him, together with thirty men, inside the city of Le Mans. The esquire assaulted the house (‘hostel’) of Jacques Bonin where forty French soldiers had taken refuge. As Winter met strong resistance, he decided to ask Talbot for help. On his way, he met William Glasdale, an English esquire, who agreed to give him support provided that they both Froissart, SHF, vol. ix, p. 122. 66 Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290. 67 Later ordinances include the same article with some minor modifications. Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, p. 243. 68 Cagny, Chronique, p. 176. 69 AN, X1a 4795, fol. 324v–325 (31 August 1428). This very interesting case, which is analysed in Keen (KLW, pp. 33, 153–4), is also published in English Suits, pp. 205–8. 65

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Transfer of prisoners shared any gains. Once back at the house, Glasdale started to threaten the Frenchmen that they would all be killed if they surrendered to anyone other than them. Then he talked to the English soldiers, assuring them that they would all share the gains, and convincing them that they should let him negotiate with the French. The negotiation failed and an assault was launched.The English soldiers took as many prisoners as they could. A dispute around the capture of Pierre de Rostrenen (whom we find under the names of Rohan and Rostelin in the case)70 arose between Roger Pelerin and a man in the retinue of Glasdale; at this point it was seemingly out of the question to share the gains. Glasdale went out of the house when he saw Thomas Rempston contemplating the scene, and he asked for the latter’s assistance in return for an offer of a share of the gains. Rempston ‘l’acompagna lors a son butin pour estre plus fort (formed a profit-based association in order to be stronger)’. Pelerin’s testimony, which must have contained at least some truth, is a story of excessive greed, betrayal and disobedience. By threatening the Frenchmen with death if they surrendered to anyone else, Glasdale was at odds with the rules. The testimony shows the extent of chaos that the prospect of ransoms could create, and the ferocity of the moment of capture. This testimony also informs us about the way soldiers fought and gathered together in small bands in competition with one another. A parallel can be drawn here with the ‘compagnies d’aventure’, as they appear in the Norman garrison counter-rolls in the first half of the fifteenth century. These were small groups of English soldiers which carried out short, sharp raids of the French countryside and who shared their profits of war.71 T ransf e r of p ris one r s The analysis of a large file of contracts for the payment of royal rights in the ransom of prisoners taken by English soldiers at Agincourt has ­confirmed the relatively widespread assumption, based on other isolated cases, that the transfer of prisoners, according to the social hierarchy, would normally take place after any engagement.72 There was only one man-at-arms for every 70 Pierre de Rostrenen received aid from Jean V to pay his ransom to the English on 23 May 1428. He was free by July 1429 when he was sent to represent the duke at Charles VII’s coronation. BnF, Ms. Fr. 8267, fol. 137 and 142. I would like to thank Professor Michael Jones for these references. 71 P. Contamine, ‘Les Compagnies d’aventure en France pendant la guerre de cent ans’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome: moyen âge, temps modernes, 87 (1975), 365–96; reprinted in La France aux XIVe et XVe siècles, chap. vii. 72 This assumption is to be found in Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 248; Schnerb, Bulgnéville, p. 100. For a detailed comment on the exceptional survival of this file of contracts, see Ambühl,‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 757–61.The redistribution of the prisoners in the aftermath of Agincourt

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity four archers at Agincourt. As they all participated in the hand-to-hand combat and the pursuit as well, archers should statistically be the greatest winners in terms of captures. Indeed they were the winners in terms of numbers. The vast majority of those holding prisoners were archers or men of Calais (81 per cent), who detained slightly more than half the total number of prisoners appearing in these contracts (55 per cent).These prisoners, on the other hand, were not worth much in comparison with those held by the men-at-arms – knights and esquires. The latter concentrated in their hands almost three-quarters of the total value of the rights on ransoms due to be paid to the crown.Transfer of prisoners occurred on a large scale.While the highest-ranking prisoners were passed up the social hierarchy, lesser prisoners were most probably sold by the archers to men of Calais. Giving flesh to these statistics, the Burgundian knight, Guillebert de Lannoy, claimed, in an account of his capture at Agincourt, to have been handed over on the spot to John Cornwall, his captors ‘cuidant que je fusse ung grant maistre, pour ce que, la Dieu mercy, j’estoye assez honnestement en point’ (believing that I was a great master, since, thank God, I looked good enough).73 The Breton esquire Jean de Tremedern argued in court that ‘se le varlet d’aucun qui l’a armé prent aucun adversair ou de parti contraire, le prisonnier est au maistre du varlet qui l’a pris’ (if any varlet of a man who had armed him takes any opponent or anybody of the opposite side, the prisoner belongs to the master of the varlet who took him).74 This implies that any varlet armed by his master had already ceded his right over spoils of war to his master in return for his arms.That any varlet would hand over his prisoner to his master is highly likely. Who else would he give him to? That no pecuniary compensation was involved in the transfer is far less likely. Jean de Rodemack was captured at the battle of Bulgnéville in 1431 by Pierre Rivet, a varlet-in-arms of the retinue of the Burgundian esquire Guillaume Resc.75 Not surprisingly, Rivet surrendered this nobleman to Resc, who, in his turn, transferred the prisoner to the duke of Burgundy. The latter offered him to his counsellor and first chamberlain, Antoine, lord of Croÿ, who eventually ransomed him after a five-year-long captivity.The meticulous Burgundian financial records provide the figures for each transaction: Rivet got 200 so; Resc and his two associates each received 1,000 so (so 3,000 so all together). Finally, Croÿ ransomed the prisoner for 10,000 eo. Tremedern’s claim, is analysed in Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 132–8; Figures are slightly revised in Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, p. 763. This paragraph is drawn from these two studies. 73 Œuvres de Ghillebert de Lannoy, p. 50. 74 AN, X1a 9199, fol. 335rv (December 1430). 75 Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp. 99–100, 146–7.

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Transfer of prisoners and the transfer of Rodemack, raises two important points. First, and this point is supported by other sources, the transfer of prisoners usually operated within the same retinue, most probably between a soldier and his direct superior but apparently not to the highest bidder.76 Second, Rivet seems to have lost out in this transaction, which, at first sight, appears to be totally unfair. This transfer was first and foremost a question of status or honour. It was hardly suitable that a mere varlet should keep a high-ranking nobleman such as Rodemack in his hands. In this particular case, it is interesting to note that Rodemack actually gave his faith to Rivet, but we have seen that, as a general rule, nobles surrendered only reluctantly to non-nobles.77 A financial issue derived from this question of status. Prisoners were to be treated according to their rank.78 A nobleman, for instance, could expect ‘prison courtoise’ (courteous prison). We will see how costly the custody of a prisoner could be, even if the latter would eventually recompense his master.79 If necessary, the master had also to be able to defend his right in front of a court of justice, which might also entail significant costs. The ownership of the count of Dammartin, for example, was disputed between the Black Prince and William II de Montagu, earl of Salisbury, who were respectively the captains of John Blankmouster and John Trailly who both had claims in the capture of the French count.The name of the man in the company of Blankmouster who actually took Dammartin is not even named in the Black Prince’s testimony: ‘et depuis se vynt un autre q’estoit a monsire Johan Blankmouster’ (and then came another man who belonged to Sir John Blankmouster).80 Similarly, in the case between Bos de Commarques and André de Laval, lord of Lohéac, and ‘consors’, the former represented one of the men-at-arms of the latter and was probably a relative of the esquire Jean de Commarques. The latter claimed to have taken the faith of the Welsh knight Matthew Gough, who had initially been captured by one of Commarques’ archers.81 Other examples could be given here.82 It transpires, in fact, that the settlement of a case in court is the best opportunity to observe these transfers of prisoners and to trace the original captor of a prisoner who would otherwise disappear from the records. The system in place 76 See also my remarks in Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 139–40. 77 See pp. 34, 38–9.  78  Bovet, The Tree, p. 153. 79 For the phrase prison courtoise, see Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 189. 80 Poitiers, p. 338. 81 AN, X1a 9193, fol. 156v (4 August 1436). 82 See also Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 322–9 (9 August 1371); AN, X1a 9193, fol. 157r (4 August 1436) – a different case from that of Commarques versus Laval; AN, X1a 4802, fol. 198r (3 March 1450).

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity contributed to the maintenance of social order. Nevertheless, there were great winners in the game of capture, greater than Rivet, such as the captors of Jean II le Bon (1356) and David II (1346),83 even if Rivet could still be counted a very lucky man; the 200 so compensation he received represented more than three years’ wages of a Burgundian crossbowman (5 fo per month).84 This redistribution of prisoners was not, however, a fixed or explicit rule. Even at Agincourt, some English archers remained in possession of a French knight, such as William Callowe and William Kempton who captured a certain sire de Corps (whom I have not been able to identify), whose ransom amounted to £356. Once they had paid a third to their captain and a third of a third to the crown, each of them received approximately £100 (almost eleven years’ worth of wages).85 There is every reason to believe that a closer prosopographical approach to the thousands of masters and prisoners of the Hundred Years War would reveal many more such cases of prisoners ransomed by masters who were much lower down in the social hierarchy than themselves.Yet what the evidence also highlights is the vulnerability of these lower-ranking soldiers who could be easy prey to unscrupulous superiors. We learn, for instance, from a petition addressed to Henry V in the aftermath of Agincourt, that two archers sought redress for what they claimed to be the unjustified seizure of their prisoner by the esquire William Bucton.86 Later, Edward de Reguegnes (probably Edward Renakers),87 an archer in the garrison of Avranches, appeared in the court of the Parlement of Paris against his own captain, the English esquire, Thomas Burgh. Edward claimed that Burgh had unfairly taken Simon Hamon,88 a French prisoner, whom he had himself captured ‘in facto bone guerre’ (in making good war).89 He asked for the restitution of his prisoner or else the amount of his ransom, which he valued at no less than 2,000 so. If this case suggests that an archer could be betrayed by his own captain, it also shows that he was able to defend his rights in court. Guillaume des Ages, who was involved in a 83 Poitiers, p. 187. 84 M. de la Chauvelays, ‘Les Armées des trois premiers ducs de Bourgogne de la maison de Valois’, Mémoires de l’Académie des Sciences, Arts et Belles Lettres de Dijon, Partie Lettre, 1880, 9–335, at pp. 266–7 (1419). 85 TNA, E 358/6, fol. 1r; see also Curry, Agincourt, 2005, p. 245. For the problems raised by the calculation of thirds and thirds of a third at Agincourt, see Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 142–8. 86 Select cases in Chancery, 1364–1471, W. P. Balidon, ed. (London 1896), p. 110 (item 112). 87 Edward Renakers appears on two different occasions in the 1420s as an archer in the garrison of Avranches under Thomas Burgh. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25767, no. 95, 146 (from TSLME). 88 Simon Hamon was one of the hostages handed over to Gilbert Umfraville at the surrender of Neuilly-l’Évêque on 15 May 1418. Bréquigny, p. 22, no. 142. 89 AN, X1a 67, fol. 105r (10 June 1430).

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Captivity suit against the lord of Menon, even claimed to have challenged the duke of Bourbon for the restitution of Menon to his initial captor, Humbert de Chamborant, who had been unjustly deprived of his prisoner by the men of the constable.90 This testimony, which was firmly contested by Menon, indicates that a soldier could succeed in his attempt to seek redress from his superiors. But however well lower-ranking masters were able to protect their rights, the system enriched higher-ranking soldiers. Some of them, such as John Cornwall, gained the reputation of veritable businessmen as far as ransoms were concerned.91 Cap tivity Security measures English ordinances of war anticipated that each man should present his prisoner to his commander ‘as soon as possible’ (1385) or ‘within eight days … each person should guard his prisoner or arrange for him to be guarded by his own men, so that he does not ride at large through the host nor be seen at large in the camp without having a guard with him (so that he cannot spy on those things in the host which are secret)’ (1415–17).92 The threat was heightened by the reward of a third of the value of the prisoner to anyone who recaptured such a prisoner found at large.The master would still be entitled to a third of the value of the prisoner, ‘assuming that he is not a party of the default’, while the final third would be devolved to the constable.93 If the master was a party to the default, he presumably lost his prisoner altogether. Such was also the rule in France, according to Le Jouvencel.Whatever the degree of responsibility of the master, anyone who lost sight of his captive was at risk of losing all his rights over him to the man who found him unguarded.94 The commons in the parliament of July 1433 protested against the enforcement of this rule in France and asked the king, in retaliation, to order the arrest of any French prisoner or hostage found at large anywhere in the realm of England without a safe-conduct or an English guard.95 They suggested AN, X1a 4791, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). 91 On Cornwall in general, see A. C. Reeves, Lancastrian Englishmen, pp.  139–202; and about his profits in ransoms, see also Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, p. 768. 92 Only the Durham ordinances specify the motives (here in brackets) for this rule; this early set of ordinances also specifies that the prisoner should be presented to the commanders ‘so that news and plans of the enemy can be known’. Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290; Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, pp. 244–5. 93 Curry, ‘Disciplinary Ordinances’, p. 290; Curry, ‘Military Ordinances’, pp. 244–5. 94 Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 95. 95 PROME, vol. xi, p. 149 (July 1433). 90

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity that the prisoner should be ransomed by the new captor, who would halve the profits with the crown (unless the prisoner already belonged to the crown). This is a curious petition that asked for the enforcement of principles which, by and large, should have already applied, implying that this was not the case. The sources occasionally refer to other public measures regarding the custody of prisoners. A master was expected to signal the presence of his prisoner in every place that he went with him, because, as Le Jouvencel said, ‘ce prisonnier peult estre malicieux, home sedicieux, escheleur, trompeur, sayeur de portes ou de faulces poternes, peut seduire aucuns de la garnison, ou de la ville, ou de la compaignie, sans ce que on eust aucune cognoissance qu’il ne sauroit qui il seroit, et beaucoup d’autres maulx’ (this prisoner could be malicious, seditious, a skilful climber,96 deceiver, ‘sawyer’ of doors or hidden doors; he could seduce anybody in the garrison, the town or the company, without anyone knowing about it and him, and [could cause] many other troubles).97 Failure to signal the presence of the prisoner could entail the loss of one’s prisoner. This formed the basis of John Chamberlain’s claim over Hannequin Lower in 1394.William Gerard had forfeited his own rights over Lower. According to his account, this was because he had lodged his captive in the prison of Calais without asking permission from the captain’s lieutenant, William Beauchamp, as he should have done.98 Only rarely did the authorities otherwise interfere in the captivity of prisoners. Two examples follow. The origin of the intervention of Charles V, in 1370, was again around an issue of security.99 It came to the knowledge of the king that some English prisoners of war detained in Saint-Omer had been allowed to walk outside their prison and that others were being kept in various places which were inadequately arranged for their custody.100 The French king considered that this was intolerable at a time of open war, since the prisoners could easily see what was going on in the fortress and town and cause trouble.101 He therefore ordered that the prisoners should be kept fettered in more appropriate places. The fears of the French king Godefroy, Dictionnaire, vol. iii, p. 382. The term ‘escheleur’ may also suggest the use of ladders. Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 10.   98 TNA, C 47/6/5 (1394); KLW, p. 175.   99 J.-R. Alban, ‘Une Révolte des prisonniers de guerre anglais à Saint-Omer au 14e siècle’, Bulletin trimestriel de la société académique des antiquaires de la Morinie, 22 (1974), 161–80, at pp. 166–7. 100 There is evidence of nine English prisoners detained in Saint-Omer who received a very small grant of £20 from Edward III towards the payment of their ransoms. Issue Roll, p. 344 (31 October 1369). 101 This fear of spying finds echo in Le Jouvencel (vol. ii, p. 13), who claimed that ‘et a esté par aucun temps que on bouchoit les yeulx des prisonniers, quant on les mettoit en ville’. He himself planned the storming of Crathor during his captivity in one of the towers (vol. i, pp. 77–8).   96   97

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Captivity proved well founded, since those English prisoners were at the origin of a riot and a fire in the castle, before they were all killed by people from Saint-Omer. The second intervention followed the Burgundian victory at Bulgnéville in July 1431. Concerned for the safe-keeping of their town, the council of Dijon decided to order a complete survey of all the prisoners detained within their walls.102 Those who had a prisoner in their hands and failed to declare him were under threat to be considered as traitors to the town. This measure reveals the total freedom of action of the masters of Bulgnéville, who, until then, had been able to enter the town with their prisoners without having to give account of them to anybody.103 These rules barely conceal the individual responsibility of each master for the custody of their prisoners from the very moment of their capture onwards. This raises several questions. The urgent need for security is manifest in orders issued by the authorities. Why then did the guard of prisoners remain in private hands? Prisoners never were a collective responsibility, and they were only kept together in one particular circumstance – when the host was on the move. There, prisoners were gathered together between the vanguard and the rearguard, as is noted on several occasions in Le Jouvencel.104 There is no evidence of any safely guarded area where prisoners would have been placed during an engagement or when the host halted.105 On the contrary, the ordinances of war and chivalric treatises clearly point to the individual responsibility of the captors for the custody of prisoners. The following episode is indicative. When the English raised the siege of Orléans in haste in 1429, the French captain, Bourg de Bar, a prisoner of John Talbot, was so heavily fettered in one of the towers around the city that Talbot’s confessor, who had been entrusted with his custody, was not able to carry him 102 Schnerb, Bulgnéville, p. 94 (13 July 1431). 103 It is interesting to compare the attitude of Dijon with Calais, about fifteen years earlier, which, for the same security, would have refused the entrance of many (lower-ranking) prisoners of Agincourt, according to Jean de Waurin (Recueil des croniques et anchiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne a present nommé Engleterre, 1399–1422,W. Hardy, ed. [London, 1868], vol. ii, pp. 220–1). See also Ambühl, ‘Le sort des prisonniers’, p. 770. 104 Le Jouvencel, vol. i, pp. 73, 111; vol. ii, p. 18.This was also the case after the battle of Agincourt when the army marched towards Calais. Curry, Agincourt, p. 241. 105 Henry’s alleged order to 200 archers to kill the prisoners of Agincourt is not, in my mind, clear evidence that these captives had been gathered together. About this order, see Curry, Agincourt, pp. 215–21; Ambühl, ‘Le sort des prisonniers’, pp. 755–6. In fact, the ordinances of war suggest the opposite. If there was a dedicated area for prisoners, there would be no need for all these rules concerning capture and ownership of prisoners. And, in fact, any single case of capture in the source indicates that prisoners were under the responsibility of their captor. The only evidence of a gathering of prisoners is to be found in the testimony of Guillebert de Lannoy who claimed to have been put in a barn together with the other wounded persons. These may well have been special measures for the wounded people.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity off.106 The siege situation, in contrast with that of battle, gave all the time one needed to take a prisoner to a dedicated area for captives, assuming there was one. The fact that a personal guard had been assigned to the Frenchman, as well as the use of fetters, highlights the necessity of immobilising the prisoner in the absence of secure conditions of imprisonment. In a miniature found within Martial d’Auvergne’s Vigiles de la mort de Charles VII (after 1472), two prisoners taken at Agincourt are shown leaving the mêlée with their wrists tied up.107 According to the monk of Saint-Denis, Burgundian prisoners, captured by the Armagnacs in a battle fought near Le Puiset (Eure-et-Loir) in 1412, were loaded with chains on the battlefield.108 The chronicler’s tendency to exaggerate and the context of French civil war need to be taken into consideration here. Even if the authorities kept a close eye on the capture and ransom of prisoners of war during military actions, the prisoners remained under the private responsibility of their captor from the moment of the capture onwards. Once a troop or host had reached allied territory and the action had ended, the master of the prisoner would, by and large, dispose of his prisoner of his own free will. War prisons War prisons were essentially arranged privately. By this I mean that it was incumbent on the master to find a suitable place of detention for his prisoner for as long as was deemed necessary.This is reflected by the large variety of places in which we find prisoners. Such places were mostly appropriated or occasional prisons, to borrow the typology of Guy Geltner. These included castles, palaces, hotels, houses and city gates.109 The great tower of the Louvre, turned into a palace by Charles V, is a good example of a high-standard long-term appropriated prison. Its demolition was lamented by another bourgeois of Paris in 1527 who considered it ‘très belle, haute et forte, et estoit appropriée à mettre prisonniers, gens de grand renom’ (very beautiful and high and strong and was suitable to put prisoners, people of great renown).110 It had already held prestigious captives in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries before 106 Journal du siège d’Orléans (1428–1429) augmenté de plusieurs documents, notamment des comptes de ville (1429–1431), P. Charpentier and C. Cuissard, eds. (Orléans, 1896), p.  165; Cousinot, Chronique, pp. 297–8. 107 BnF, Ms. Fr., 5054, fol. 11. 108 Saint-Denis, Histoire de Charles VI, vol. iv, p. 581. 109 G. Geltner, The Medieval Prison: A Social History (Princeton, NJ, 2008), p. 29. 110 B. Bove,‘Les Palais royaux à Paris au moyen âge, XIe–XVe siècles’, in M. F. Auzépy and J. Cornette, eds., Palais et pouvoirs: de Constantinople à Versailles (Paris, 2003), pp. 45–79, at p. 52.

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Captivity it welcomed the Gascon lord, Jean de Grailly, captal de Buch, and the English knight, Sir Thomas Percy, in the 1370s.111 Grailly ended his days in 1376 in another Paris fortress converted into a prison, the tower of the Temple.112 Kings had the advantage of disposing of a large network of fortresses where they could put their captives, even the less valuable ones. In 1420, Henry V sent 600 prisoners taken at Melun to Paris, where they were dispatched to the Châtelet, the Temple, the Bastille Saint-Antoine and elsewhere in the city.113 We have also seen that, after a short stay in the Tower of London, 170 prisoners captured at the fortified market of Meaux were shared out between various castles in England and Wales.114 The need to divide up these two large assemblages of French prisoners into smaller groups is indicative of the limited capacity of most castles as places of detention. The wide variety of places where prisoners in private hands are to be found may hint at the difficulty of finding an adequate prison. There is some evidence of private masters who secured a room for their prisoners in the great tower or donjon of a castle, which was probably the safest place to put a prisoner.115 Bishops and monks occasionally provided some equally strong places of confinement for prisoners of war, such as the tower called Beauvisage in Beauvais, which belonged to the bishop. Thirty-seven prisoners of war were detained in the abbey of Fécamp in 1385.116 I have found only one example of a prisoner held in city gates during the Hundred Years War: Olivier du Guesclin, who was lodged in the tower of Ludgate in London in the early 1380s, presumably in a room over the gate itself.117 Two demandes of Geoffroy de Charny, however, designate city gates as places of detention for prisoners of war, thereby suggesting that they were commonly used for such purpose.118 There would 111 AN, J 362, no. 2 (10 January 1373); Froissart, Luce, vol. viii, pp. xxviii, n. 2, 84–5. 112 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 189, 218; Delachenal, Charles V, vol. iv, p. 578. 113 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 12–13; Saint-Denis, Charles VI, vol. vi, p. 449. 114 See p. 76. 115 For example, see Alban,‘Une révolte’, p. 173 (1370); Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, p. 310 (February 1419), Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 7 (1419–20); BnF, Ms. Fr. 26055, no. 1672, 1683 (31 October/10 November 1431); Bouvier, Charles VII, p.  176 (c.  1435); AN X1a 4798, fol.  53; also quoted in Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 260, n. 4 (1439); Livre des Miracles, pp. 114–15, no. 188 (20 September 1446); Le Jouvencel, vol. i, p. 78; P. Contamine, ‘Autobiographie d’un prisonnier-otage: Philippe de Vigneulles au château de Chauvency (1490–1491)’, in les prisonniers de guerre dans l’histoire, p. 47, (1490–1). 116 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p.  xvi (1432). AN, X1a 33, fol.  4ro, 203vo, 214 ro. See also English suits, pp. 148–53 (1426–8). 117 Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 21. Newgate prison had occasionally held prisoners of war in the past. R. B. Pugh, Imprisonment in Medieval England (Cambridge, 1968), pp. 106–7. 118 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 71v, 74r; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 86–7, 89–90.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity be nothing surprising in this since city gates were often used as municipal prisons.119 Finally, there were private houses and hotels which may have been the most common prison of war even if they were not necessarily the first or optimum choice. It was because there was no room in the castle of Blois that Jean de Tillay, captain of the castle, entrusted an inhabitant of Blois with the custody of an English prisoner of the Gascon knight, Galobie de Panassac.120 Similarly, one of the two demandes of Charny implies that private houses were a second choice after the city gates.121 Many other examples of private houses used as prisons at that time could be quoted here.122 This hypothesis that they were a second choice should not be taken too far, however. Captivity was a costly business, as we will see, and masters may have deliberately attempted to reduce this cost by keeping their prisoners in a house rather than a castle or a municipal prison, and taking charge of the custody themselves rather than giving it to a third party. The question of trust, or lack of it, may also have influenced this decision. Whatever the case, the fact that the municipal authorities of Dijon felt the need, after the battle of Bulgnéville, to order every master to come forward with his prisoners so that a complete survey of them could be made, firmly points to the wide recourse to the use of private arrangements and individually arranged places of detention. ‘Prisoner of war’ was a privileged status which, in theory, guaranteed reasonable conditions of detention or, at the very least, better conditions than those enjoyed by criminals. After examination, the vicomte of Pont-Audemer changed the charges against Huet Alaine, in 1427. His status therefore changed from suspected criminal to prisoner of war, and he was moved from the fearful ‘fosse’ (pit) of the prison, where he was held in a ‘cep’ (chains), to the highest chamber of the prison, which was compared to a little house (‘the higher, the better’ was apparently a rule in medieval prisons).123 As in municipal or royal prisons, the legal factor was 119 M. Bassett, ‘Newgate Prison in the Middle Ages’, Speculum, 18 (1943), 233–46, at p. 234. 120 AN, X1a 69, fol. 141v (31 January 1438). 121 ‘Uns homs d’armes a un autre prison et li fait jurer qu’il tenra prison dedanz les portes de la ville et li donne prison d’aler par la ville, et cil li jure et li tient loyaument. Et apres avient que le maistre de celi prison le fait metre en une maison en la ville et li deffent et comande que il ne s’en part sanz congié, et sanz renouveler sa foy. Et deux jours ou trois après la deffense, le prison s’eschape et s’en va a sauveté. Son mestre le requiert, le prison dit que non. Assez … qu’en sera il jugié par droit d’armes?’This demande highlights again how important the taking of faith was and how specific it needed to be. KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 71v; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 86–7. 122 KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 77rv; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 86–7; Livre des miracles, pp. 41–2, no. 87 (6 January 1421); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 224–6, no. 91 (April 1425). 123 AN, JJ 174, no. 93 (December 1427); see also the case of Colin du Pont in Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 92–5 (May 1424). For the conditions of imprisonment according to the level of the prison, see L. Batiffol, ‘Le Châtelet vers 1400’, Revue Historique, 63 (1897), 42–55; M. Basset, ‘The Fleet Prison in the Middle Ages’, The University of Toronto Law Journal, 5 (1994), 383–402, at p. 393.

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Captivity the main determinant of the quality of the conditions of captivity. For prisoners of war, it was also a question of status and wealth.124 Chivalric conventions required that the conditions of detention related to the rank of the prisoner.125 Thus, the French knight, Louis Bournel, lord of Thiembronne, was properly accommodated and graciously treated by the Burgundians because ‘they found out that he was a knight and a man of public standing.’126 The sort of privileges that a noble prisoner could enjoy are described in court by Guillaume des Ages in 1415.127 The lord of Menon, once his prisoner, was not tied up during his journey from Laon to ‘Heusson’,128 but rode on a horse under good escort (in general, a gentleman was not supposed to be manacled).129 There, in Heusson, he remained a prisoner for around nine months. He was kept, at his demand, under the regime of ‘prison ouverte’ (open prison). That meant that he could move freely from the residence that had been assigned to him even though this had to be under the guard of three men.130 A higher-ranking lord could also expect to be able to surround himself with servants. In this respect, Michael Jones is right to question how genuine John Bourchier’s distress was, as described in his letter to his wife, for we know that the man had servants in his suite.131 Similarly, it is hard to sympathise with the alleged distress of the prisoners of Agincourt taken to England where, according to the monk of Saint-Denis, they were ‘living in the middle of a large society of wealthy Englishmen, compelled to be satisfied with a single servant per prisoner’.132 The surviving Treaty Rolls, which record the delivery of English royal safe-conducts to French prisoners, show that most of these prisoners, on their return to France after a short period of captivity lasting three to six months, were accompanied by two servants.133 These were small suites in comparison with some other households of prisoners during the Hundred Years War. Bériac-Lainé and 124 The differential treatment accorded to those of wealth and status in municipal or royal prisons is well known. See for instance, Geltner, The Medieval Prison, pp. 63–7. 125 H. Bovet, L’Arbre des batailles, E. Nys, ed. (Paris, 1883), p. 138; quoted in P. Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 242. 126 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 300rv. 127 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). 128 Unidentified location. 129 On the inappropriateness of fetters for a gentleman, see also AN, X1a 4795, fol. 197v (January 1428). 130 On the subtleties of the different regimes of ‘prison ouverte’, ‘prison parmi la ville’ and ‘prison fermée’, see J. Claustre, Dans la geôle du roi: l’emprisonnement pour dette à Paris à la fin du moyen âge (Paris, 2007), pp. 317–22. 131 M. C. E. Jones, ‘Fortunes et malheurs de guerre: autour de la rançon du chevalier anglais Jean Bouchier (†1400)’, in P. Contamine and O. Guyotjeannin, eds., La Guerre, La violence et les gens au moyen âge, vol. i: Guerre et violence (Paris, 1996), pp. 189–208 at p. 193. 132 Saint-Denis, Charles VI, vol. vi, p. 47. 133 TNA, C 76/98, m. 3–7 (November 1415–February 1416).

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity Given-Wilson drew up a list of twenty prisoners taken at Poitiers who had on average more than seven servants, but it must be remembered that some of these prisoners remained in captivity for more than two years.134 Before July 1359, the household of King Jean numbered more than seventy people.135 When leaving England in 1381, the French knight Guillaume des Bordes was followed by his wife and ‘all those in their company’, which consisted of at least twenty knights and esquires, ladies and damsels as well as their varlets.136 In 1412, the Breton knight Guillaume de Forest requested a safe-conduct for eight men and their servants and twelve horses, as well as goods and equipment, which he intended to bring with him to England.137 The duke of Orléans received safe-conducts for more than 100 men in his company when he was eventually released in 1440.138 Finally, a surviving portion of an account beginning in October 1433 and ending in October 1434 also shows that many French prisoners who never left France were accompanied by one, two or more servants when held in prisons in English-occupied territory.139 That said, unscrupulous and greedy masters sometimes bypassed chivalric conventions and mistreated their prisoners in order to squeeze from them the largest possible ransom; this included keeping them in the ‘fosse’, like criminals.140 Escapes The prison, as a general rule, was not necessarily a secure place. Escapes, from the highest tower to the deepest pit, were all too common. There are some interesting examples. Hugues de Châtillon managed to flee from the castle of Nottingham and to return to France in the early 1370s. Jean Braquemont, a Norman knight, and Marcellin Flisc, a Genoese soldier, escaped from the Tower of London in the early 1420s, but, unlike Chatillon, the two men were recaptured shortly afterwards.141 However strong the tower of the castle of Sens was reputed to be, it did not prevent 134 Poitiers, pp. 395–6.  135  Poitiers, p. 142. 136 This suite may have totalled forty people (this figure was added in the line space above the ‘20’ figure in the document), TNA, SC 8/169/8424 (1381). 137 TNA, SC 8/250/12477 (1412). 138 TNA C 47/30/9/20–6 (28 October 1440). An attached schedule including the names of these people was not published by Thomas Rymer. Foedera, vol. x, pp. 824–5. 139 AN, KK 324 (1433–4). 140 AN, KK 252, fol. 22 (July 1374); RDP, vol. iv, p. 157 n. 1 (1370s); Livre des miracles, pp. 43–4, no. 89 (18 July 1421); BnF, PO 970, Danié, 2 (29 December 1425); AN, JJ 173, no.  517 (May 1426); AN, JJ 173, no. 539 (May 1426); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 149–53, no. 198 (18 September 1429); Livre des miracles, p. 78, no. 125 (13 March 1439); AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190rv (28 April 1440); Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. v, p. 103. 141 Issues of the Exchequer, vol. i, p. 375 (10 July 1422); TNA, SC 8/198/9871 (1423).

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Captivity the hostages of La Baume from escaping from it in the mid-1420s.142 Pierre Blondeau escaped from the Conciergerie of the Châtelet of Paris in the early 1430s; he climbed down the wall of the prison using a rope he had attached to his window.143 Jean Moret managed to escape miraculously from the ‘basse fosse’ (pit) of the castle of Angoulême in the late 1430s.144 These are just a few cases in a long list of escapes.145 How can this high rate of escape be explained? We know that some buildings were poorly maintained. The enquiry following the escape and killing of six English prisoners of war detained in the castle of Saint-Omer in the 1370s states that the door of their prison had such big holes that they could easily see everything that happened in the castle.146 The detention of prisoners required extensive repair work on the trapdoor of the fosse of the tower ‘Trompe’ of the castle of Lusignan and in a ‘hostel’ in the castle of Falaise where two English hostages for the treaty of surrender of Saint-Sauveur were detained in the mid 1370s.147 Prisoners were not, in general, totally cut off from the outside world. They received visits, and, in some instances, they also found assistance from accomplices to organise their escape.This was apparently the case for Pierre Blondeau and Hugues de Châtillon. Such external help could even come from the guards and keepers of the prisoner or traitors within the castle.148 Those entrusted with the guard of prisoners were held responsible for escapes. The king could make his gaolers pay dearly for their negligence or acts of betrayal. Michel Valmont, gaoler of the prison of Pont-Audemer, was imprisoned for five months after the escape of Huet Alaine and two other

142 English Suits, p. 149. 143 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 47v (9 March 1433). 144 Livre des miracles, p. 78, no. 125 (13 March 1439). 145 See the multitude of French captives who claimed to have escaped from their English prison through the invocation of Charles de Blois. Monuments du procès, pp. 238–9, no. 90 (1369); pp. 239– 41, no. 91; pp. 285–91, no. 120; pp. 318–21, no. 137, pp. 334–8, no. 144; pp. 407–8, no. 188; p. 440 (5 April 1369), p. 425 (7 April 1369), pp. 432–3 (24 May 1369); or through the invocation of Saint Catherine. The Livre des miracles offers an even greater number of examples in the 1420s–1440s. If the miraculous circumstances of these escapes raise serious doubts, the fact that these prisoners did escape from their prison is far less suspicious. In any case, there are also many examples found in more reliable sources. Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 6–9;Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 322–9 (9 August 1371); RDP, vol. iv, pp. 254, n. 1 (1372); AN, KK 251, fol. 122v (16 June 1373); CPR 1413–16, p. 410 (26 October 1415); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 31–3, no. 14 (June 1423); 92–5 (May 1424); 224–6, no. 91 (April 1425); vol. ii, pp. 212–15, no. 215 (31 October 1431); English Suits, p. 201 (9 December 1427); Cronique Martiniane, P. Champion, ed. (Paris, 1907), p. 9 (1428); AN, X1a 4801, fol. 398v–399 (26 February 1448). This list could certainly be extended further. 146 Alban, ‘Une révolte’, p. 173. 147 AN, KK 252, fol. 22; see also Lehoux, Jean de France, vol. i, p. 334, n. 6 (July 1374); BnF, Ms. Fr. 26012, no. 234 (June 1375). 148 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 6–9; Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iii, p. 310.

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity captives in 1427.149 He was eventually pardoned by Henry VI towards the end of the year provided that he found the captives and brought them back to prison; even then he would not recover his office. Private masters could bring the keeper to whom they had entrusted their prisoner before a court. Thomas Montagu, earl of Salisbury, sued Pierre le Verrat for the escape of the hostages of the bâtard de la Baume.150 Le Verrat tried to put the blame on his lieutenant, Jean Labé, because the hostages were in his care, but he was himself the man with whom Salisbury had negotiated and who thus needed to account for this failure.151 It is likely that a contract was sealed between masters and keepers fixing the costs of custody and possibly the conditions of captivity. In some instances, guardians could prove to be totally unreliable. In another case, Pierre le Forestier accused Marcuin de Molins, to whom he had entrusted the guard of his prisoner, of having ransomed him for his own profit.152 It was precisely to protect themselves against the possibility of an escape by their most prestigious captive, Charles, duke of Orléans, that the English moved him between places and keepers.153 Given all the risks involved, we may wonder why masters would ever leave their prisoners – such a precious commodity – in the hands of a third party. The answer is simple. Ransoming was a relatively long process. Soldiers, especially higher-ranking commanders and knights, could not afford to be immobilised by such a business. Galobie de Panassac left his prisoner in Blois so that he could participate in Charles VII’s coronation expedition: the ransoming progressed through letters between the Gascon knight and the guardian of his prisoner.154 In this particular instance it eventually proved to be a disaster because the prisoner was released without any guarantee. The alternative to Panassac’s choice of delegation was to take the prisoner everywhere, as did François de la Palu, lord of Varambon, who we can see dragging his captive, Henri Gencian, from place to place.155 When de la Palu needed to absent himself, he gave AN, JJ 174, no. 93 (December 1427). For similar examples of reprisals from the king, see CPR 1413–16, p. 410 (26 October 1415); TNA, SC 8/198/9871 (1423); CPR 1422–9, p. 186 (20 October 1423); Actes de la chancellerie, vol.  i, pp.  224–6, no.  91 (April 1425). For examples before the Hundred Years War, see also Pugh, Imprisonment, pp. 232–4; N. C.Vincent, ‘Hugh de Neville and his Prisoners’, Archives:The Journal of the British Records Association, 20 (1992), 190–7. 150 English Suits, pp. 148–53. 151 About this, see also AN, X1a 4801, fol. 398v–399 (26 February 1448). 152 AN, X1a 9201, fol. 94v (31 July 1432). 153 W. Askins, ‘The Brothers of Orléans and Their Keepers’, in M.-Jo Arn, ed., Charles d’Orléans in England, 1415–1440 (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 27–45. 154 AN, X1a 69, fol. 141v (31 January 1438). 155 AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190rv (20 April 1440). 149

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Conclusion close instructions to his varlets on how they should treat his captive. We do not know, of course, whether Panassac had had the option of taking his prisoner with him, or whether de la Palu contemplated the idea of leaving his prisoner in the hands of someone else.These two cases should be seen as illustrating the different options open to captors. Conclusion Much evidence used in this chapter derives from the norms and rules dictated by the authorities, such as those included in the ordinances of war or mentioned in Le Jouvencel. We have considered the reality that lay behind these norms and rules rather than the power of regulation. The ordinances of war forbade anyone to kill a prisoner who was in the hands of a fellow soldier. This clause can be interpreted as placing a cap on violence. Pushing this argument further, it suggests that the violence of the soldiery was closely monitored and controlled by the authorities. Conversely, the existence of this rule can be interpreted as a strong indication of the natural violence within military society. This approach is justified. Rules were not always consistent. Honorat Bovet acknowledges at one point in his treatise, The Tree of Battles, that where gains of war were concerned, ‘the laws are confusing.’156 The fact that royal ordinances of war were frequently reissued may also illustrate the fundamental disobedience of soldiery and that armies needed to be reminded frequently of expected behaviour. We have already seen in Chapter 3 how the English authorities in Normandy had difficulties in enforcing bans on private safe-conducts and on the ransoming of so-called brigands. Greed, inconsistency in the laws and indiscipline are all mentioned in the following remark of Le Jouvencel: ‘aprez ceste destrousse faicte, saillirent plusieurs debatz et questions, comme tousjours advient, quant ung butin a esté fait’ (after this encounter, several disputes and questions arose, as is always the case when spoils of war have been made).157 The sources occasionally give a glimpse of uncontrolled practice in the heat of the action, such as at the storming of Le Mans in 1428. Most surviving sources were addressed to, or issued by, the state. This inevitably gives a state-centred vision of late medieval society. What this chapter reveals about the first stages of the practice of ransoming is the central role of individual captors, who, from the very moment of capture onwards, had full responsibility for their prisoners. They needed to protect their L’Arbre, p. 134.  156

  Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, p. 212.

157

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Ransoming (I): From capture to captivity prisoners as individuals as well as to protect their own rights over them. There was relatively little intervention from the state in this first phase, save for some unevenly observed security measures. This highlights the master’s vulnerability, which is further revealed by considering the framework of transfers and the custody of prisoners.

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Chapter 5

T h e proc e s s of r a ns omi ng (II ): Th e pr ic e of f r e edo m

We have seen in Chapter 1 how masters exploited the vulnerability of their prisoners to squeeze the biggest possible ransom out of them. Psychological and physical pressures on the prisoners were widespread practices to which no legal or executive authority was able, or willing, to put an end.1 Philippe de Vigneulles and his father were victims of such practices in the late fifteenth century.2 But they showed strong resilience; a veritable battle of wills between the prisoners and their masters took place, according to Vigneulles. At the end of this, he and his father emerged as winners, since they managed to reduce the amount of their ransom to a fifth of the sum demanded from them in the first place. Vigneulles may have exaggerated their achievement, but this matters little. The case raises two important issues which will be explored in this chapter. The first is the huge discrepancy between the initial ransom required from the prisoners and what the masters eventually satisfied themselves with. This draws attention to the ways in which masters assessed the value of their captives. What were the factors involved in this assessment? Were there any signs of uniformity in the method of arriving at these estimations, or was it a matter of the individuals and particular circumstances involved, as the example of Vigneulles suggests? Second, this case also highlights the significance of dialogue between masters and prisoners which was necessary for the two parties to come to an agreement. It takes the form, in Vigneulles’s case, of a negotiation around the price of the ransom. Evidence of this dialogue also manifests itself in the ­exploration of alternative forms of payment, a topic on which the last part of this chapter will focus.3 1 See pp. 26–8. 2 Contamine, ‘Autobiographie d’un prisonnier-otage, pp. 39–46. 3 A preliminary remark needs to be made. This chapter deals with various figures and currencies. A rough conversion of the many different currencies into pounds sterling has been made to allow comparison of these figures. This is a delicate matter as the value of these different

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom H ow to e stimate the value of a p ri s one r Chivalric treatises encouraged moderation in setting ransoms. Honorat Bovet and Christine de Pizan, for example, recommended that a ransom should not be so great as to disinherit the prisoner’s wife, children, family or friends.4 Such a vague stance suggests the absence of conventions in this matter. Occasionally, a special commission composed of both French and English would be formed to reach a degree of objectivity in the assessment of the ransom of the prisoner, as was apparently the case for Raoul de Gaucourt and Jean d’Estouteville following their capture at Harfleur in 1415. Two French and two English gentlemen reflected on the right amount that they ought to pay for their ransoms ‘upon which we should be set at liberty’.5 However, the establishment of a commission was exceptional and would most likely only concern the most illustrious lords and officers. Even such a high-ranking lord as the Burgundian bailli Jean de Régnier would not enjoy this privilege. Régnier, a poet, was taken prisoner by a group of French soldiers known as ‘les compagnons de la Feuillée’ in January 1432 while carrying letters to the duke of Burgundy.6 He was taken to Beauvais where he was kept in captivity for eighteen months. His case epitomises the problems raised by the lack of information available to masters.7 First, Régnier’s masters asked their prisoner himself about his resources, but they did not believe a word of what he told them despite his insistence that he was telling the truth. Second, they informed themselves about his condition and on this basis fixed his ransom at 10,000 so. This price was far too high for the poet, who complained that ‘they do not really know my state.’8 How did Régnier’s masters come up with this amount? What sort of information was available to masters in general? Different interlinked factors will be scrutinised.

currencies fluctuated a great deal in the late Middle Ages. For this reason, any general observations or attempted comparisons of scales over the whole Hundred Years War are seriously problematic. 4 Bovet, The Tree, pp. 27–8; Allmand, Society at War, p. 84. 5 Nicolas, History of the Battle, Appendix, p. 25. 6 See Régnier, Les Fortunes, pp. xv–xvi; Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, p. 26. 7 ‘Mes Maistres ung jour s’adviserent / Qu’ilz me mettroient a finance, / Et pour ce si me demanderent / De mon estat, de ma puissance. / Si leur dis en ma conscience / De mon fait la verité toute, / Mais en riens n’y eurent fiance, / Chanter me firent autre note.’ Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 11. 8 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 12.

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How to estimate the value of a prisoner Lands Historians have referred to the existence of an old tradition according to which the level of a ransom should be roughly equivalent to a year’s revenue of the prisoner’s lands and should not exceed five or six times this revenue. Maurice Keen noted this in Blaise de Monluc’s dream of the fortunes he could gain from the capture of a Roman knight Mark Anthony Colonna: ‘si je le povois attraper, j’estois riche a jamais, car pour le moin, j’en aurois quatre-vingt mille ecus de rancon, qui estoit son revenu d’un an’ (if I could catch him, I would be rich for ever, for, at the very least, I would get a ransom of 80,000 eo from him, which was his yearly income)’.9 The cap on five to six times the yearly income, identified by Philippe Contamine, was the sum that Jean de Grailly, captal de Buch, was ready to pay to Charles V for his ransom, according to Froissart. This offer clearly seems to have been more symbolic than real.10 Froissart most probably meant to show that the French king was not prepared to release his prisoner in return for money, whatever the amount might be. Only Grailly’s change of allegiance could have freed him. At best, these two cases of Blaise de Monluc and the captal de Buch show that the yearly income of a prisoner may have been used in some cases to assess the value of a ransom. Yet this very principle, which may at first sight seem straightforward, raises a question. How would (enemy) masters get reliable information about their prisoners incomes in a period in which, as Michael K. Jones remarked, even the government only had a notional idea of the wealth of the landed classes?11 In addition to this, these incomes were unlikely to be the only revenues of a prisoner.Their value would be diminished on going down the social ladder. This means of assessment might be helpful where the wealthiest fringe of the landed class was concerned but could lead to serious misjudgement, especially for those French lords whose lands had been ravaged by war. The duke of Orléans’s attempt to secure a loan of 78,000 eo against his lordship of Romorantin for the payment of the ransom of his younger brother, Jean d’Angoulême, eventually failed for this very reason.12

B. de Monluc, Commentaires, A. de Rublé, ed., 2 vols. (Paris 1886), vol. ii, p. 179; KLW, p. 158. Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 68–9; Contamine, ‘The Growth of State’, p. 166. André Bossuat referred to the same practice before Keen and Contamine, but unfortunately he did not quote his sources. Bossuat, ‘Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, p. 147. 11 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 223. 12 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 61.  9 10

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom Status The level of nobility of a prisoner would have a great impact on the price of his ransom. The clearest line that can be drawn in terms of price of ransoms is at the top of the hierarchy, between lower-ranking men of noble status (knights and lords) and peers of the kingdom (counts or earls, and dukes). Whilst the ransom of a lower-ranking nobleman would rarely reach or exceed £3,500 at any point of the Hundred Years War, a count or earl on the other hand could reckon himself very lucky if he managed to regain his freedom for less than £5,000.13 John Butler, the second son of James Butler, earl of Ormond, had the misfortune to be captured by the French in August 1449, but had he been taken prisoner after he inherited his earldom in 1461 there is every reason to believe that his £2,500 ransom would have doubled if not tripled, for the end of the war can hardly be considered as a period of leniency (if such a period had ever existed).14 The exceptionally high ransoms of three peers will illustrate this point: on the French side, Olivier de Coëtivy, seneschal of Gascony, was ransomed for 6,000 nobles (£3,000);15 on the English side, Thomas, Lord Scales, for 35,000 so (£8,750);16 and Robert, Lord Moleyns for £6,000 and almost £10,000 with the extras: this was possibly the highest ransom ever demanded from a nobleman during the conflict.17 However, other factors need to be taken into consideration in these cases which inflated the amount of their ransoms, and these will be examined below. How relevant was the distinction between knights and esquires? On average, ransom grants issued by the duke of Burgundy to his knights were four times higher than those to his esquires, but this statistic is Example of ransoms of counts and dukes in order of importance, starting with the lowest amount (date of capture/date of first mention of ransom): John Beaufort, earl of Somerset – 24,000 lt (1421/1440); Thomas Beaufort, count of Mortain  – 28,000  eo (1421/1430); Charles d’Artois, count of Eu – 32,000 eo (1415/1437); Jean de Foix, earl of Kendal – 46,000 eo (1453/1455); John Holland, earl of Huntingdon  – 20,000 marks (1421/1430); Waléran de Luxembourg, count of Saint-Pol – 100,000 fo (1376); Louis de Bourbon, count of Vendôme – 100,000 eo (1415/1417); John Hastings, earl of Pembroke – 130,000 fo (1372/1375); Jean de Clermont, duke of Bourbon – 130,000 eo (1415/1421); Charles, duke of Orléans – 200,000 eo or 100,000 nobles (1415/1440); Jean Ier, count of Armagnac – 300,000 florins (1361/1365); Jean, count of Nevers – 200,000 ducats (1396); Charles de Blois, duke of Brittany – 700,000 florins (1347/1357). 14 About the amount of his ransom (£2,000 plus £500 for the costs of custody) and the attempts and difficulties to raise the money for it, see CCR 1447–54, pp. 266–7 (2 March 1451); TNA C 49/32/10 (1452); TNA, C 76/134, m. 8 (23 June 1452); BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 166 (1454). See also, for his life and career, S. G. Ellis, ‘Butler, John, Sixth Earl of Ormond (D. 1476/7), Magnate’, in ODNB. 15 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, pp. 5–6 (15 May 1454). 16 TNA, C 76/140, m. 30 (26 September 1457). 17 K. B. McFarlane, The Nobility of Later Medieval England (Oxford, 1973), p. 126. 13

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How to estimate the value of a prisoner misleading for the gap between these two categories is widened by the biggest grants given to the higher noblemen.18 At a lower level, it was often difficult to differentiate between knights and esquires.19 This is reflected in the general disaffection of the gentry with knighthood that historians have observed in both France and England, especially in the second half of the Hundred Years War.20 (In passing, the ransom of the English esquire, John Norbury, had been fixed at nothing less than 11,000 so, or approx. £2,750.)21 The distinction between nobles and non-nobles was probably far more relevant to masters. Membership of the former group boosted the price of the ransom. Functions The functions or offices of the prisoners were potentially better indicators. Masters could acquire information about them relatively easily, and, quite importantly, they had the opportunity also to assess the value of each function according to the amount of wages that it brought in. In their plea before the Parlement de Paris in 1425, Sinoder de Giresme and his associates, in defending themselves against André Marchant’s accusations that they had ill-treated their prisoner (Robert Parentis), said that they had set his ransom (c. 2,000 so or £500) on the basis that he was believed to be a ‘tres riches’ (very rich) man and because he was a ‘grant gouverneur et entremetteur en la partie des adversaires’ (great governor and a mediator with the enemy).22 The first element, ‘very rich’, is linked with the reputation of the prisoner  – we will come back to this factor shortly – while the second is a clear reference to his function. Who exactly Robert Parentis was, however, remains a mystery.23 The sample used for these statistics is more fully described and discussed in Chapter 9. 19 The most recurrent grants were worth 100, 200 and 300 fo, which were shared out as follows between knights and esquires: 100 fo: twenty-seven esquires versus fourteen knights; 200 fo: fifteen esquires versus fifteen knights; 300 fo: six esquires versus five knights. 20 See the illuminating article of P. Contamine, ‘Points de vue sur la chevalerie en France à la fin du moyen âge’, Francia, 4 (1976), 255–85. 21 BL, Add. Ch. 5833 (3 October 1438). 22 AN, X1a 9198, fol. 266v (August 1425). 23 Unfortunately, I have not been able to identify this Robert Parentis. This prevents us knowing more about what his masters meant by a great governor or a mediator with the enemy. The hypothesis of a spy, in my mind, should be left aside since the prisoner was expected to be ransomed rather than handed over to the authorities. Could he have been an English ambassador? There is a reference to letters from a Robert Parys, chamberlain of North Wales, in 1401, in the list of English embassies drawn by Léon Mirot and Eugène Deprez, ‘Les Ambassades anglaises pendant la guerre de cent ans: catalogue chronologique (1327–1450)’, BEC, 59 (1898), 50–77; 60 (1899), 177–214; 61 (1900), 20–58; item no. 543 (10 July 1401).There was also a Robert Parys serving in France in 1440 and 1446. AN, K 66/1, no. 19; BnF, Ms. Fr. 25775, no. 1448; 25777, no. 1749 (from TSLME). 18

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom The fact that the masters did not give precision to Parentis’ exact functions in their plea does not necessarily mean that they did not know them. On the contrary, it is impressive to see that they managed to collect such information about someone. It is probably not going too far to assume that such offices as bailli, seneschal or vicomte would be easily known to the masters of French prisoners. These functions, which were generously remunerated, would be likely to increase the price of the ransom. This was perhaps the case for the French knight Guyot Pesteil, who was seneschal of Beaucaire (5,000 lt or £833) and Jean Régnier who was bailli of Auxerre (10,000 so or £2,500) at the time of their capture, in 1415 and 1431 respectively.24 Masters may also have known about the offices held by their captives in the households of princes and kings. Guyot Pesteil, for example, was also a former chamberlain of the duke of Berry and Charles VI. What may have mattered more to the masters who discovered the links of their prisoners to such prestigious households was the prospect that those princes would help them: the prisoners’ connections is another issue which we shall deal with later. The functions of the prisoner could also relate to his role and position in the army, something which would be easily identifiable. There is no doubt, for example, that the ransom of Jean de Toulongeon was swollen to 14,000 eo (£3,500) because of his office of marshal of Burgundy in 1425.25 Thomas Scales was expected to pay a ransom of 35,000 so in 1457 (£8,750), an amount that exceeded the estimated ransom of Charles d’Artois, count of Eu, in 1437 (£8,000).26 Scales was a baron, but, more importantly, he was an experienced English captain who had already had a long career in France. The exact circumstances of his capture are not clear. He was taken prisoner at Patay in 1429, but this ransom must have related to a later capture, possibly in the late 1440s.27 This was still a modest amount in comparison with the 60,000 eo (or more) (£15,000) demanded from Jean II le Meingre, dit Boucicaut, marshal of France, at the time of his capture at Agincourt.28 Boucicaut was a prominent figure of his time, and this price may also reflect strategic and political factors. Nicolas de Baye, Journal, 1400–1417,A.Tuetey, ed., 2 vols. (Paris, 1885–8), vol. ii, pp. 243–6; Demurger, ‘Guerre civile’, pp. 284–5; Ambühl, ‘The Prisoners of Agincourt’, p. 141. 25 Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp. 59–60. 26 TNA, C 76/140, m. 30 (26 September 1457). On Eu’s ransom and liberation, see pp. 69–70 and n. 88, p. 130 n. 13. 27 He was returned from France in 1449 when he became a prominent figure in domestic politics in England. Was he then released on parole? H. Castor, ‘Scales, Thomas, Seventh Baron Scales (1399?–1460)’, ODNB. 28 D. Lalande, Jean II le Meingre, dit Boucicaut, 1366–1421: étude d’une biographie héroïque (Geneva, 1988), pp. 170–3. 24

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How to estimate the value of a prisoner This was different from lower-ranking soldiers, whose functions in the army may have been the only decisive factor on which their ransom was valued.The scales of ransom at this level of the hierarchy also substantiate this assumption.29 Reputation The sources give concrete evidence of prisoners who enjoyed, or maybe ‘suffered’, the reputation of being rich and/or successful in war, the two factors being directly connected in some cases.We have seen the example of Robert Parentis who was thought to be very rich by his masters. Further examples can be given here. In April 1428, during the siege of Beaumont-en-Argonne by the Burgundians, Guillaume de Flavy, who led the defence of the town, devised an elaborate scheme to conceal his capture of Enguerran de Gribauval ‘pour ce qu’il scavoit ledit prisonnier estre riche home pour payer bonne finance’ (as he knew that the said prisoner was a rich man who could pay a good ransom) and probably because he knew very well that he would sooner or later be compelled to surrender.30 Berry Herald tells us that Poton de Xaintrailles extracted a large ransom in 1431 from Jean de Brimeu who had the reputation to be a ‘moult riche escuier’ (very rich esquire).31 It must be noted, however, that a reputation of being rich did not in itself help to fix the specific amount of the ransom, unless perhaps this reputation was based on information which was broadly quantifiable, such as known or presumed profits of war.The ransom of a certain de Turre (de la Tour?), taken prisoner at Auray in September 1364, was set high because his masters had heard of his previous capture of Pierre d’Acrimont a few months before at Cocherel, in May 1364, whom they qualified as ‘unus de melioribus prisionariis societatis dicti captalli’ (one of the best prisoners in the company of the said captal) and deduced from this that de Turre was a rich man.32 His masters may have been too greedy, for de Turre seemingly could not afford this second ransom and so was forced to break out of his prison in the fortress of Derval, or so it is claimed by a witness to the miraculous interventions of Charles de Blois. The English masters of the French esquire, Sauvage de Brinvilliers, followed the same logic, setting the price of Brinvillier’s ransom according to his earlier capture of a Navarrese man called Martin Duris, in 29 See pp. 149–50.  30 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 290. 31 Berry, Les Chroniques, p. 142. 32 Monuments du procès, p. 319; see also J.-C. Cassard, ‘Anglais et Bretons dans le duché sous Jean IV’, in E. Carillo-Blouin, ed., Le Monde en Bretagne, la Bretagne dans le monde: voyages, échanges et migrations (Brest, 2006), pp. 21–42, at pp. 28–9.

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom 1359.33 A letter of remission issued by Dauphin Charles, future Charles V, leaves no doubt, however, that Brinvilliers had not seen so much as a penny by the time of his own capture (c. 1359–60). Indeed, the Dauphin had asked Brinvilliers to sell his prisoner to the bishop of Beauvais, Philippe d’Alençon, for 200 gold florins, but the bishop’s default of payment was the origin of problems for Brinvilliers who had no money for his own ransom. Charles V granted him a licence to trade food and other commodities with the enemy to help him raise funds, but his commerce caused much displeasure to some inhabitants ‘d’aucunes de noz bonnes villes’ (of some of our good towns). Brinvilliers feared reprisals, which was the reason why he provided himself with letters of remission for anything for which he might be reproached. These two cases may give an explanation for the disproportionate amount of money of just under £10,000 that was demanded from Robert, Lord Moleyns at the end of the war. Moleyns was a member of the Hungerford family, which had a reputation for having made considerable profits from war.The antiquarian John Leland was told at the beginning of the sixteenth century that Moleyns’ grandfather, Walter, 1st Lord Hungerford, had rebuilt his castle of Farleigh Hungerford (Wiltshire) in the 1420s with the proceeds of Agincourt.34 This claim was not groundless, for the delivery of several safe conducts between December 1415 and February 1416 show that Hungerford was in possession of seven French prisoners, including Pierre de Rieux, future marshal of France.35 It is seemingly the same Hungerford (or his son, another Walter Hungerford, Moleyns’ father) who ransomed the French knight Jean de Vendôme, vidame of Chartres, in 1433.36 The many journeys occasioned by the raising and transfer of funds between 1433 and 1435 hint at the importance of the latter’s ransom. The exact amount is unknown; all we know is that Charles VII granted Vendôme 1,000 lt towards it in 1434 (reiterating his order in 1437), regretting that he could not help him more.37 It must be noted, however, that the misfortunes of the family had already started with Moleyns’ father, Walter (later 2nd Lord Hungerford), who was captured by the French at Patay in 1429 and ransomed by Jacques de Dinan 33 AN, JJ 90, fol. 237v–238, no. 474 (March 1360). 34 J. Leland, Itinerary, by T. Hearne, ed., 9 vols. (Oxford, 1710–12), vol. i, p. 138. The case is briefly highlighted by McFarlane, The Nobility, pp. 126–8; Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost’, pp. 11–31. 35 TNA, C 76/98, m. 3 (18 February 1416), m. 4 (27 December 1415 and 28 January 1416). 36 TNA, C 76/115, m. 5 (11 July 1433); Foedera, vol. x, p. 566 (28 December 1433); AN, KK 324, fol. 38r (17 February 1434); Foedera, vol. x, pp. 574, 580 (14 March 1434/14 April 1434); TNA, C 76/116, m. 2 (24 August 1434); Foedera, vol. x, pp. 597, 624 (9 October 1434; 26 October 1435). 37 BL, Add. Ch. 3744 (22 September 1434); 3805 (4 May 1437).

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How to estimate the value of a prisoner for 18,000 so (£4,500), in February 1433.38 It was already a considerable sum which was possibly influenced by the good fortune of the prisoner’s father at Agincourt. Certainly, Moleyns’ masters did not take the capture and ransom of his father at Patay into account when they fixed his huge ransom. If Leland heard of the alleged fortune that Hungerford drew from the proceeds of Agincourt about a century later, it is not unlikely that this story had crossed the Channel and was well known by contemporaries, especially within military society. Robert, Lord Moleyns met serious difficulties in paying his own ransom, despite all the assumed wealth accumulated by his predecessors. The cases of de Turre and Brinvilliers demonstrate how information circulated about the capture of prisoners, and they also show how the alleged profits drawn from ransoms could inflate a prisoner’s own ransom. This was most probably what happened to Moleyns. More importantly perhaps, the three cases taken together show how such a reputation could be misleading and could cause great trouble to the prisoner.Yet it is interesting to note that the circulation of news of capture may also have played in favour of the prisoner. After his second capture, in around 1422, the masters of Gilet de Lointren showed leniency towards him, asking for less than half the amount of his first ransom.39 Connections The extraordinarily high ransom of 10,000 so asked from Jean Régnier can only be partly explained by his office of bailli of Auxerre. His close connection with the duke of Burgundy, whom the poet celebrated as his saviour, must have seriously inflated his ransom.40 There is no doubt that masters included in the assessment of their prisoner’s ransom ‘what the wealthier connections of the prisoners were likely to add’, as Maurice Keen suggested.41 This may have been a determining factor in many instances. It seems relatively clear that this was the case for Olivier du Guesclin, a minor figure, whose 40,000 fo ransom (£6,667) following his capture near Cherbourg in 1378 had been set according to his family ties with the constable of France, Bertrand du Guesclin, his brother.42 38 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 327–9; POPC, vol. iv, pp. 149–50 (18 February 1433). For the dispute over the ownership, see Little, Parlement of Poitiers, pp. 173–4. The prisoner’s ransom was estimated at 30,000 so (£7,500) by the court within the framework of this trial. 39 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 82–7, no. 33 (April 1424). 40 Régnier, Les Fortunes, pp. 166–7. 41 KLW, pp. 158–9. 42 Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 18. His earlier capture and ransom at Auray, in 1364, apparently did not generate any leniency from his masters. For a royal contribution of 4,000 fo towards his ransom, see Letters, Orders and Musters, pp. 145–6, no. 389 (9 March 1371).

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom This is an easy assumption, although hard evidence of the part played by the connections of the prisoner in the assessment of a ransom is relatively rare. Colard de Mailly complained in the court of the Parlement of Paris that the high ransom of his half-brother, the bâtard de Mailly, which amounted to 600 so and two horses, had been set in proportion to his own financial means.43 Similarly, the massive 6,000 eo that the lord of Varambon hoped to get for the ransom of Henri Gencian had far less to do with the latter’s financial means than those of his illustrious connection, the duke of Bourbon.44 Varambon addressed a letter directly to the duke asking for the money. He reiterated his demand in another letter threatening to pull out Gencian’s teeth if he was not paid. The threat was not idle. He included a tooth of his prisoner in a third letter and warned the duke that the other teeth would follow if he did not accede to his request. Bourbon remained silent, and Gencian eventually managed to reduce the demands of his master through the mediation of the Varambon’s varlet. This case is a painful illustration of the great extent to which masters could rely on the connection of a prisoner; it also shows how misplaced their hopes could be, and how dangerous this could become for the prisoner. Strategy and politics Connections only applied at higher echelons of the social hierarchy. They most certainly had an impact on a public figure such as Bertrand du Guesclin, whose several captures  – he was taken prisoner at least four times (1359, 1360–1, 1364 and 1367) – did not see his market value decrease. On the contrary, his ransoms swelled as he rose to prominence as a powerful commander and a figure of high public standing. His second ransom (1360–1) did not exceed 30,000 eo or £7,500, and was possibly much smaller. His third ransom after Auray amounted to 100,000 fo or £16,500.45 His last ransom, following his capture at Najérà, was fixed by the Black Prince at an enormous 100,000 doblas (c. £23,000), an amount which was allegedly inflated by Du Guesclin’s own estimate of his worth. As after Auray, Du Guesclin had difficulty raising such a large amount of money, but he was supported by Charles V on both occasions. The protracted civil war between Armagnacs and Burgundians that overlapped the Anglo-French conflict in the first half of the fifteenth 43 AN, X1a 78, fol. 271r (September 1449). 44 AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190rv (28 April 1440). 45 Letters, Orders, pp. xx, xxv, 3, 34–42, 68–9, 73–5, nos. 9, 10, 93, 97–9, 105, 108–9, 185, 187, 206–7, 209.

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Added costs century may have increased the values of some higher-ranking prisoners, such as Guillaume de Châteauvillain.46 This knight in Burgundian obedience could not afford his initial ransom of 20,000 so (£5,000), set in 1431, without assistance. He was an easy prey for the Armagnac supporter, Georges de la Trémoille, who was busy tempting away subjects of the duke of Burgundy at that time. La Trémoille, who was the captain of Châteauvillain’s masters, offered the prisoner a deal to help him pay his ransom in return for his allegiance to Charles VII, which the prisoner was not in a position to refuse. One wonders whether Châteauvillain’s ransom had not been set so high deliberately with the intention of offering him this deal. Ultimately, the strategic or political value of prisoner could be so important that it literally became priceless. Jean de Grailly, captal de Buch, in the 1370s, and Jean de Clermont, duke of Bourbon, about half a century later, learnt this to their cost.The former is said to have seen his most generous offers of ransom rejected by Charles V, who required his change of allegiance, while the English government took all the money raised by the latter without showing any firm intention to release him.47 Adde d co sts Masters of prisoners were normally bound to pay for the cost of custody of their prisoners for as long as they kept them in captivity.48 When the time had come for the prisoner to pay his ransom, these expenses were usually added to the bill unless an agreement had been made beforehand. These extra costs, as we shall see, were not negligible and therefore needed to be taken carefully into account by masters and prisoners. Basic maintenance fees claimed by the keepers of prisoners supposedly included board and lodging. Conditions of captivity depended on the rank of the captives: the higher ranking the lord, the better these conditions were expected to be, and better conditions naturally entailed greater custodial expenses. Between 1420 and 1422, the guardians of the counts of Eu and Richemont and of the marshal Boucicaut were allocated 23s 4d per day for their custody (that is, £35 per month and £426 per annum).49 This was soon felt as a financial burden by the English government, which repeatedly cut For what follows, see Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, pp. 11–14. 47 See p. 129 and Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, especially pp. 55–7. 48 KLW, p. 169. 49 This amount increased when the prisoners were escorted. TNA, E 101/49/17; Foedera, vol.  iv, p. 148. Daily and weekly rates are in their original currency. Monthly and yearly rates in brackets have been converted into pounds sterling. 46

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom the level of this expenditure over the course of their captivity. The daily expenses for the duke of Orléans were reduced to 20s between 1423 and 1430 (£30 per month, £360 per annum);50 and to 13s 4d from 1431 onwards (£20 per month, £240 per annum).51 The daily expenses for the custody of the count of Alençon in France, following his capture at Verneuil, were roughly equivalent: about 6 lt (c. £30 sterling per month, £360 per annum).52 Going down the hierarchy, the custody of Guichard Cesse, captain of Meaux, who was also imprisoned in England in the 1420s, cost 8s per day (£12, £144 per annum).53 The expenses for a group of noble and non-noble prisoners taken at the surrender of Harfleur who were kept in the castle of Hammes between 1415 and 1417 amounted, for each of them, to 4s 4d per week (17s 4d per month, £11 per annum).54 John Stille, captain of Carentan, asked for 30 st per week for the custody of Guillaume Leheux (£1 per month, £12 per annum).55 Perrot Godefroy only asked for approximately 1 so per week for the custody of Thomas Cusack in his own house in Blois (£1 per month, £12 per annum).56 Many more examples of a maintenance fee equivalent to 4s to 5s per week could be added to this list; this seems to have been the average price for a modest prisoner of war.57 By way of comparison, the charge for board and lodging in the City of London prisons was fixed at 3s per week for gentlemen and 2s per week for yeomen, but these rates were higher at the Fleet prison.58 It would seem, therefore, that lower-ranking prisoners of war could expect similar or slightly better conditions of captivity than debtors. Additional expenses increased this maintenance fee. Travel expenses could be put on the account of the prisoner; these could prove ­particularly costly as the prisoner would need a horse and possibly

POPC, vol. iii, p. 79, vol. iv, pp. 44, 51; Issues of the Exchequer, p. 413. 51 TNA, E 101/53/4 (1431–4); E 101/53/10 (1436); E 101/53/28 (1436); E 101/53/9 (1440); POPC, vol. iv, p. 182 (1431–1434); Issues of the Exchequer, pp. 449 (1438–9), 439 (1440). 52 BnF, Ms. Fr. 4485, fol. 433rv. 53 TNA, E 404/39/309, 20.  54 TNA, E 101/47/35. 55 BL, Add. Ch. 3622 (24 April 1428). 56 AN, X1a 69, fol. 141v (31 January 1438). 57 On average, Guillaume de Meuillon spent 1  lt 13s 4d per week (slightly more than £1 per month) for each prisoner in his custody in the castle of Tonnerre. BnF, PO 1954, Meuillon, 10 (30 November 1425). The guard of the tower of the castle of Bar received 44 fo for the expenses of four prisoners from 15 April to 2 July 1423; that is 1 franc per week per prisoner. Luce, Jeanne d’Arc, p. 107, no. 63. Towards the same period, the English crown paid 4 shillings a week per head for four French and Scottish prisoners detained in the Tower of London. Issues of the Exchequer, p. 360; TNA, E 404/34/109 (25 August 1419). 58 Basset, ‘The Fleet Prison’, p. 396. 50

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Added costs an escort.59 More importantly, the need for the prisoner to enter into contact with his friends and relatives often involved the intervention of a herald, a pursuivant or another messenger.60 Some were directly employed by the prisoner (who may have had his personal herald); others would be commissioned by masters, and their expenses would naturally be counted as extras.61 The following examples give an idea of costs for the intervention of these heralds and pursuivants. Buchete, pursuivant of the bâtard of Orléans, had been paid 6 lt for his travel and enquiry in Bois-de-Malesherbes and Jargeau (the two places are separated by less than 50 km) in search for Jean Herbi, a servant of the duchess of Clarence, who had been captured by the French in 1426.62 The many different missions assumed by Chester Herald, for the deliverance of Robert, Lord Moleyns over almost a year, had been estimated at a very impressive £140.63 Many a knight had been ransomed for less than this. Not surprisingly, the maintenance of hostages who replaced a prisoner in prison would also be added to the total amount of the ransom.64 It was anticipated in the agreement for the release on parole of John Hanford in 1444 that each hostage would pay 2 so a week for upkeep until their departure.65 Guillaume de Châteauvillain was taxed a huge (and probably unfair) 4,000 eo by his captors at the end of the three-year-and-four-month-long captivity of his hostages.66 Prisoners would also need to pay for their safe-conducts, which were indispensable to travel within enemy territories. This passport cost between 2 and 6 Guillaume des Ages mentioned the lord of Menon’s escort as part of the reason for the huge price he asked from the prisoner for his custody. AN, X1a 4797, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). The escort of two prisoners from Bourges to Orléans cost 50 lt to Girard de Cres. BNF, Coll. Clairambault, 97, no. 2827 (26 January 1420). See also about these expenses, Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, p. 23; ‘Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, p. 150. 60 The significance of heralds as messengers or intermediaries in the ransoming of prisoners of war is highlighted by Martin le Maire who paid the debt of a pursuivant of arms, Pierre Blondeau, prisoner in the conciergerie of the Châtelet de Paris, so that the latter would be able to enter into contact with the masters of French prisoners detained by the enemy. AN, X1a 4797, fol.  47v (9 March 1433). 61 The intervention of heralds and other messengers is relatively common in the sources. It is not always clear whether they were employed by the masters of the prisoner. In the following cases, this seems quite clear. Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 212–13; AN, X1a 4795, fol. 197v (January 1428); AN, X1a 4796, fol. 110ro, 181 (June 1429/February 1430). 62 BnF, PO 1513, Herbi, 2 (1 October 1427). 63 W. Dugdale, The Baronage of England, 2 vols. (London, 1675–6), vol.  ii, p.  209. See also Jones ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 224. 64 Pierre Rousseau was put to ransom at 160 so ‘saunz les despenses que ses houstages fount et susteignent a cause du dit raunson’. Henry VI granted him 50 marks. TNA, E 404/53/307 (15 May 1437). 65 BL, Add. Ch. 12212 (6 March 1444). 66 Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, p. 23. 59

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom so – it depended on the number of persons and the duration of the protection – for French people who travelled in English-occupied territory in 1433–4.67 Finally, there were exceptional expenses such as the need for medical assistance. Henriet le Gros, of the French garrison of Meaux, was severely injured when he was captured in 1421 and had to undergo surgery, as vividly depicted in a letter of remission: ‘he was so badly injured that he was ill for two months and more, and more than 36 bones had been taken from his head.’68 His initial ransom amounted to 100 lt and a horse of 50 st, to which 60 lt of expenses for his custody were added. Some figures will illustrate the significance of these costs and the risk they represented. Guillaume des Ages asked for 800 lt for the expenses of the lord of Menon for the nine months during which he was in his hands in 1415. Unfortunately, the value of Menon’s ransom is unknown, but this fee seemed quite outrageous to the prisoner, who sued des Ages before the Parlement of Paris.69 Des Ages tried to justify the bill in terms of all the comfort that the prisoner had enjoyed during his captivity, including, as mentioned in the previous chapter, the privilege of open prison under the permanent guard of three men. This was seemingly a deliberate attempt to overcharge the prisoner, taking advantage of his vulnerable position. Yet this figure for expenses does not necessarily seem unusual. The expenses of the custody of Jean de Rodemack, who experienced a very short period of captivity, amounted to 714 florins: that is about 7 per cent of his whole ransom.70 The total expenses of Robert, Lord Moleyns and his servants, for their seven-year-and-sixteen-week-long imprisonment, amounted to a minimum of £982, almost a sixth of his initial ransom of £6,000.71 John Bourchier’s total expenses of custody (4,000 fo), after about four years of captivity, amounted to half his initial ransom of 8,000 fo.72 The ransom of Châteauvillain had been fixed at 22,000 eo. After some years of litigation, this amount had increased by 10,000 eo.73 These extras, as the masters explained in court, included the upkeep of hostages, the ‘droits et depens’ (fees and expenses), which had been agreed by Châteauvillain, and the ransom of Ponchon de Bourguignan, which the prisoner was bound to pay. If expenses for travels and messengers 67 AN, KK 324. In 1359, Thomas Stafford claimed that he spent 60 moutons for the safe-conduct of his prisoner. Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 374. 68 Paris pendant la domination anglaise (1420–1436), A. Longnon, ed. (Paris, 1878), pp. 17–19, no. 9 (June 1421). 69 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 8v–9r (2 December 1415). 70 Bossuat, ‘Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, p. 150. 71 Dugdale, The Baronage of England, vol. i, p. 209. 72 Jones, ‘Fortunes et malheurs’, p. 193. 73 Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, p. 23.

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Added costs were added, the masters claimed that the total amount would exceed 50,000 eo. It was by way of generosity that they agreed to content themselves with 32,000 eo. These expenses of custody would be more problematical at a lower level of the hierarchy, where the total amount of the ransom was relatively modest. Henriet le Gros’s surgery, for example, caused his initial ransom to be increased by more than 60 per cent. Worse came for the masters of Robinet du Mont Landry who claimed that their prisoner ‘a despence plus que sa finance ne monte’ (has expenses higher than his ransom), the problem being that, as we have seen, ransoms were set at the highest possible price.74 These masters thus faced the possible bankruptcy of their captive. It was therefore in the interest of masters, particularly at a lower level of the military society, to minimise or control these expenses. This would inevitably require further efficiencies in the ransoming process. Les marz The introduction of les marz is one clear sign that contemporaries took a step in that direction. The earliest known reference to les marz dates back to the late fourteenth century. It is fully described in a trial brought before the court of the City of London in 1381 concerning the ransom of Olivier du Guesclin.75 Les marz was a fixed share of the latter’s ransom which would cover his expenses of custody; it amounted to 5 fo for every 20 fo he paid as ransom, or, in other words, to a fifth of the total ransom.76 C. A. J. Armstrong spotted another occurrence of les marz in the case of the French knight Guillaume Rémon, taken prisoner by Fastolf in 1423.77 In this case, les marz represented an increment of 20 per cent to Rémon’s ransom fixed at 20,000 so – that is, 4,000 so. Les marz therefore amounted to a sixth of the total ransom (24,000 so). This practice was then forty years old, but it was not seemingly fixed. The counter-rolls of Norman garrisons between 1420 and 1440 give yet another rate for les marz. More importantly, they also provide a deeper insight into this practice. The etymology of les marz seems relatively simple: it is the French for the marks, a unit of weight which was equivalent to 244.75 grams (mark of Paris). This assumption is substantiated by the Norman counter-rolls BnF, Ms. Fr. 25770, no. 634 (December 1430). 75 Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls, pp. 297–300; Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 27. 76 Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls, pp.  298–9; Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 21. 77 C. A. J. Armstrong, ‘Sir John Fastolf and the Law of Arms’, in C. T. Allmand, ed., War, Literature and Politics in the Late Middle Ages (Liverpool, 1976), pp. 47–8. 74

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom of account in which most ransoms of French captives were split in saluts d’or and marcs d’argent (silver marks) according to, by and large, a ratio of 1 marc d’argent for every 20 so.78 In his attempt to fix the total amount of the ransom (thereby overlooking the practice of les marz), Philippe Contamine converted the silver marks into so, on the basis of 1 silver mark for 6 so, which was the current rate of exchange.79 Interestingly, the two most recurrent values in Contamine’s scale were 26 so (forty-six prisoners) and 13 so (thirty-four prisoners) and the fifth most frequent value was 52 so (seventeen prisoners). Before conversion, these sums were divided up between saluts d’or and marks as follows: 20 so and 1 mark; 10 so and half a mark; and 40 so and 2 marks. Les marz were higher: 23 per cent instead of 20 and 16.5 per cent in Du Guesclin’s and Rémon’s cases, but this may result from a devaluation of the saluts d’or.These documents thus confirm the large-scale implementation of les marz which fixed the rate for the expenses of custody at more or less a fifth of the total ransom of the prisoners. The wide assimilation of this practice is shown in other sources. First, the addition of this 20-per-cent increment is observable in other circumstances. The French esquire, Jean de Mathan, claimed in 1426 to have been ransomed for 200 eo, 10 silver marks and a ‘panne de martre’ (a fur made from marten).80 Richard Froggenhale, who was said to be ransomed at 2,000 marks ‘ultra omines alies custus et expensas’ (plus all other costs and expenses), which amounted to 500 marks, provides rarer evidence of the implementation of les marz to the ransom of a higher-ranking English knight in 1453.81 At the same time, this case also makes a clear connection between les marz and ‘custus et expensas’ (cost and expenses) or in French ‘drois et despens’, which at first sight may have seemed to be different from les marz in the verses of Régnier who juxtaposed the two increments.82 There are further stronger indicators of the integration of les marz in the practice of late medieval soldiers. Take the examples of immediate 78 These observations are based on my personal consultation of more than 100 counter-rolls preserved mainly in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Archives Nationales and the British Library in London. See also Contamine’s study of ransoms and booty in Lancastrian Normandy (‘Rançons et butins’, pp. 241–70) which is based on 200 surviving counter-rolls. 79 Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 260, n. 63. In 1434, the controller of Avranches noted that 6 silver marks were worth 36 so and that the salut d’or was worth 28s 6 dt (1 silver mark = 8 l 11 st). BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772, no. 925 (December 1434).We also know that, in September 1435, 1 silver mark = 9 lt. M. Bompaire and F. Dumas, Numismatique médiévale: monnaies et documents d’origine française (Turnhout, 2000), p. 627. 80 Chronique du Mont-St-Michel, vol. i, pp. 244–7, no. 81 (May 1426). 81 TNA, E 404/69/80 (12 July 1453). 82 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 12.

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Added costs conversions of silver marks into so that are observable in some cases, such as that of Guillaume le Bègue, ransomed in 1435 for 52 so (that is 40 so and 2 marks).83 What is more, some masters and prisoners referred to the payment of les marz without further distinction. This was the case, for example, for Jean Seigneur who, in October 1427, acknowledged before the court of Dol that he had been satisfied by his prisoner, Robin de la Bouverie, for the payment of his ransom of 120 eo and ‘les marcz’.84 Such a statement necessarily implied that the amount of les marz was so well known – 1 silver mark for every 20 eo, and thus, in this case, 6 silver marks – that it did not need further explanation.85 Could we go further and assume that what the English knight Thomas Cooley alluded to when he talked about ‘les droiz pour ce deuz et acoustumez’ (customary rights owed in this case), which he had to pay in addition to the 900 so of his ransom were les marz, that is 45 silver marks or 270 so?86 Can we associate les droitz added to the ransom of this English merchant from Bristol with les marz?87 It is very tempting to answer these questions in the affirmative, but it is important to note that the practice of les marz did not apply systematically. See, for example, the above-mentioned percentages of the costs of custody for Bourchier, Châteauvillain, Rodemack, Lord Moleyns and Henriet Le Gros.88 Even the Norman counter-rolls include several ransoms where les marz were not exacted: either the ransom was a round number (10 or 20 so); or because the ratio was not respected (e.g., 30 so and ‘deux marcz d’argens’ (2 silver marks).89 A related document for the profits of war of Thomas Burgh at Avranches compiled in 1426 included the ransoms of thirty-seven prisoners, but only a third of them followed the rule of les marz.90 Examples of the application of a different ratio can also be found 83 BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772, no. 1045 (December 1435). See also BnF, Ms. Fr. 25773, no. 1143; 25771, no. 780; 26049, no. 670. 84 BL, Add. Ch. 11581 (14 October 1427). 85 See also AN, JJ 173, no. 518 (May 1426); BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772 (October 1435). 86 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 149–53, no. 198 (18 September 1429). 87 E. M. Carus-Wilson, ‘The Overseas Trade of Bristol’, in E. Power and M. M. Postan, eds., Studies in English Trade in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1933), pp. 183–246, 385–9, at pp. 211–12. 88 The list could be extended. The expenses of John Handford, for instance, only amounted to 3.26 per cent of the total amount of his ransom (4,000 so plus 135 so). BL, Add. Ch. 12112 (6 March 1444). 89 Among Contamine’s scale, for instance, there were twenty prisoners ransomed at 20 so and ten prisoners at 10 so. Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 260. For different ratios, see, for instance, BnF, Ms. Fr. 25769, no. 452 (March 1430); 26058, no. 2313 (June 1434). There is mention of a prisoner ransomed at 18 so and 20 st (3s 4d) in an account of 1432.Whether this proportion was right is difficult to say. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25770, no. 743 (December 1432). 90 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26049, no. 670 (1426). Out of the thirty-seven prisoners appearing in a fragment of a roll relating to the profits of war of the English captain, Thomas Burgh, sixteen were ransomed

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom in other sources. The most interesting reference is an early court case dating back to June 1376 in which Jean Bigot, owner of the castle of Mareuil, sought compensation for his ransom of 3,000 fo and 100 silver marks.91 It remains, however, that the ratio 20 per cent (23 per cent) of the ransom predominates in the sources. The fact that les marz existed during the Hundred Years War from at least the last quarter of the fourteenth century onwards, although apparently never systematically enforced at any point, raises questions about its content, function and impact. It is also worth pointing out that les marz do not appear in any legal or chivalric treatise.What does the application of les marz tell us about the practice of ransoming? Unfortunately, we do not know exactly what sort of expenses les marz covered. Almost certainly it did not include all expenses. John Walles, an English esquire, taken by the French in 1422, claimed to have paid 400 eo ‘avec les marcs d’argent et plusieurs despens’ (together with silver marks and several expenses).92 The surgery undergone by Henriet le Gros is, without doubt, an example of expenses which would not be included in les marz. Beyond this point, we can only speculate. Les marz may have been a sort of package of predictable and necessary expenses, such as board and lodging for a short period of captivity, to which reasonable expenses for messengers and safe-conducts may have been added. The proportionality between the ransom and les marz may therefore have reflected the rules according to which a prisoner should be treated according to his rank. This may also explain why it was less systematically enforced at higher levels of the hierarchy. There, ransoms could be so large that a 20 per cent increment would represent too much money for the costs of custody, or, conversely, that masters would not take the risk of fixing this rate as they knew very well that the ransom negotiations for their prestigious prisoner could be severely protracted (as in the case of Bourchier). The application of les marz at the lower levels of the hierarchy makes more sense. It was a way to protect oneself against the bankruptcy of one’s prisoner, as the rate would be known and fixed from the start. At the very least, the common for 10, 20, 30, 40 or 60 so. Besides this, the right proportion of les marz only applied in twelve out of the twenty-one other ransoms included in this fragment. Two prisoners are ransomed at 40 so and 1 silver mark and a third one at 15 so and half a mark. The amounts of the ransom of the nine remaining prisoners were counted in so, but the fact that the amount was not rounded suggests that the marks had been converted into so. 91 AN, X1c 32; quoted in RDP, vol.  iv, p.  241n. (10 June 1376). See also the later example of Guillaume le Houdent, a French knight, who was ransomed for 5,000 fo and only 18 marks. In this last example, les marz was worth slightly more than 2 per cent of the total ransom. La France gouvernée par Jean Sans Peur: les dépenses du receveur général du royaume, B. A. Pocquet du Haut-Jussé, ed. (Paris, 1959), p. 282, no. 1131 (9 June 1419). 92 AN, JJ 173, no. 518 (May 1426).

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A two-tier system use of les marz as a fixed ratio of the ransom also suggests a certain degree of mechanisation of the process. How otherwise would masters and prisoners be able to anticipate the costs of custody? A two-tie r syste m We have proceeded so far by a detailed analysis of all the elements and factors that were, or could be, taken into account in the assessment of the total ransom of a prisoner. A more global approach of this issue over the Hundred Years War will now be attempted. Is it possible to detect any tendencies or evolution in the price of ransoms over the period of the conflict? Is there any sign of a system? References have been made in the past to a ‘ransom market’ which fluctuated according to various circumstances in the Hundred Years War. But are we justified in talking about a ransom market at that time? The logic of a market relies on the sheer number of transactions concerning a given product between sellers and buyers, market prices fluctuating according to the law of supply and demand.Whether this logic could be applied to ransoms in the Hundred Years War is questionable. The transfer of prisoners discussed in the previous chapter took place between the captor and his direct superior – a practice that could be associated with a remnant of feudalism rather than with the logic of a market.Yet English indentures of war for the Norman garrisons in the 1420s–1440s seem to indicate that sales and purchases also took place outside this ‘feudal’ framework. Why otherwise would soldiers be required to ask for their captain’s licence before selling a prisoner to a third party?93 Evidence of sales of prisoners in the counter-rolls of Norman garrisons is relatively rare.94 It would be wrong to believe that such transactions were all speculative; as we will see, many acquisitions were made in the hope of organising an exchange of prisoners. In some instances, however, the financial purpose of buyers was unmistakable, as is made obvious in the following court case.95 Pierre de Villiers claimed in 1429 that he was captured on his way to Paris and taken to Montpipeau. Guillaume de Ricarville, captain of there, asked for 800 eo for his ransom. The prisoner 93 For such an indenture, see Triger, ‘Une forteresse du Maine pendant l’occupation anglaise’, Revue Historique et Archéologique du Maine, 19 (1886), 25–105, 185–274, at p.  258 (January 1438). Anne Curry comments on a similar term in an indenture of October 1429: ‘This clause may have been introduced at the complaint of captains who were concerned that they were losing their share of ransoms by concealment of prisoners taken by their men.’ Curry, ‘Military Organisation’, vol. i, p. 245. 94 BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772, no.  925 (December 1434), 25772, no.  1013 (November 1435  – two references). 95 AN, X1a 4796, fol. 110r, 181 (June 1429, February 1430).

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom confessed to a pursuivant, who had been charged to contact his friends in Paris, that he could not afford to pay more than 200 eo. Later on, ‘messire Charles’ (his name is illegible) passed by Montpipeau, where he was told that ‘s’il povoit avoir Villiers, il y pourroit avoir grant prouffit’ (if he could have Villiers, he could have great profit from him). Messire Charles agreed to pay 200 eo and took his prisoner to Chartres, where he fixed the ransom at 800 eo, in the hope of quadrupling his investment, but he soon became disillusioned about the financial means of his captive and offered to set him free for 300 eo, satisfying himself with a gain of 100 eo. More strikingly, we learn in a grant made to John Wrixworth, a king’s messenger, that he had been captured before Rouen in the late 1430s and claimed to have been sold twice in Montivilliers and a third time, later on, in Harfleur, before he was eventually ransomed for 430 so.96 How lucrative was this sort of speculation in ransoms? The men of Calais who bought prisoners from the hands of famished English archers who had been refused entry into Calais after Agincourt, seem to have made a very profitable transaction if we believe the story of Jean de Wavrin.97 The case of Pierre de Villiers, above, is hardly the story of a straightforward profitable business. The fact that merchants became involved in these speculative purchases is, in general, a good sign of the viability and vitality of a market. However, the only detailed transaction that I have come across is another example of a bad investment. Richard Whittington, the famous London mercer, acquired the rights over Hugues Coniers, a French prisoner taken at Agincourt, whom he later sold to an Italian merchant Stephen Turnebois, in 1420, for 296 lt. This was a very modest amount for the ransom of a knight who had been taken to England.98 Turnebois failed to pay off his debt, and Whittington eventually brought the case before justices. There is every reason to believe that the margin of profit, if there was any, was particularly small and that Whittington’s aim had been to get rid of a prisoner who was bankrupt. This is not to say that there were never any opportunities to make good money out of the purchase of prisoners, but these opportunities were probably greater at the moment of the ‘necessary’ transfer of prisoners, between captors and their superiors, rather than afterwards. Finally, it is worth noting that the very logic of speculation was not blindly accepted, at least in the fourteenth century. A prisoner in one of Charny’s Les Demandes was told by his master to fix his ransom. The 96 TNA, E 404/56/170 (20 May 1440). 97 Waurin, Recueil des croniques, vol. ii, p. 216. His testimony is substantiated by bonds of ransoms that show many men of Calais were in possession of lower-ranking prisoners. See Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 763, 770–1. 98 Calendar of plea, pp. 91–3.

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A two-tier system prisoner set the price at 1,000 eo, and his master agreed. Later on, the latter handed over his prisoner to a friend. The latter increased his ransom to 4,000 eo. The prisoner paid, and then sued his initial master for the extra 3,000 eo he was forced to pay. This master replied that the conventions had not been written or sworn, but the prisoner maintained that they had an agreement.99 It cannot be discounted, of course, that two or more potential buyers occasionally competed over the purchase of a prisoner, but these would be the exceptions that prove the rule: transactions over ransoms were individual and segmented. Françoise Bériac-Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson built up a scale of ransoms according to the category of prisoner which, as they themselves acknowledge, is based on relatively scarce evidence. Following this scale for the 1350s, the ransoms of earls or counts and bishops were worth between £2,000 and £8,000, those of barons between £500 and £2,000, knights and esquires between £50 and £500 and, finally, varlets and other servants at the most £50.100 Half a century later, at Agincourt, the ransoms of dukes and counts ranged between £8,000 and £44,000; a baron’s was worth £2,400; a knight’s between £56 and £666; and the ransoms of seventy-one out of 130 prisoners in the hands of archers and men of Calais did not exceed £30.101 These two scales show, not surprisingly, that higher nobility – dukes, counts, barons – were markedly distinguished from the rest of the hierarchy, who, in their turn, were worth much more than their men. Beyond this general observation, it is interesting to observe the low values of counts and bishops taken at Poitiers in comparison with the aristocrats of Agincourt. Bériac-Lainé and Given-Wilson suggest the ransoms of Poitiers were relatively modest in comparison with other periods of the Hundred Years War, in particular with the 1360/70s and 1420/30s.102 They put forward several explanations for this. First, they argued that the high number of prisoners captured may have saturated the ‘market’, but, as I have tried to show, I do not believe that the law of supply and demand applied readily to ransoms. Second, they drew attention to the particularly troubled political context of France in the late 1350s which was accompanied by monetary devaluation. Third, they highlighted the political purposes of Edward III who bought so many great prisoners from whom he may have preferred to secure diplomatic rather than financial advantages. In addition to this, the English king KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 76v–77r; also in Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, pp. 93–4. Poitiers, p. 190. 101 Ambühl, ‘The Prisoners of Agincourt’, pp. 36–7; Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 764, 778–9. 102 Poitiers, pp. 189–95.   99 100

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom may have deliberately shown himself generous with these prisoners as he knew well that he would get a very large ransom from the king of France, in comparison with which their own ransoms would seem derisory. Further substantiating such an assumption, the treaty of Brétigny anticipated that the £500,000 demanded from Jean II le Bon included the ransoms of sixteen higher-ranking prisoners unless the latter had already made a separate agreement for the payment of their ransoms by 15 May 1360.103 Finally, it could be added that if prices rose after the 1350s, it was perhaps because of a change in attitudes towards excessive greed in the 1360s, as witnessed by contemporaries.104 These supposedly higher ransoms in the 1420s and 1430s may also have resulted from the superimposition of the civil war on the Anglo-French conflict.The modest ransoms of Agincourt at the lower end of the scale may have resulted from the desperate situation of the archers before the walls of Calais who sold their captives in bulk for (literally) a pittance. On the other hand, it is interesting to see in the 200 counter-rolls of Norman garrisons consulted by Philippe Contamine that the average ransom amounted to slightly less than 30 so (£7.50).105 Is it right, therefore, to use comparative analysis by category of prisoner as the appropriate tool for the interpretation of the price of ransoms? It must be used with caution. The reason for this lies within the outlines of the scales themselves. After Poitiers, for instance, the prices within the first (counts and bishops) and the second categories (barons) varied by one to fourfold (£2,000–8,000 and £500–2,000). This gap widened in the third category (knights and esquires) where prices vary by one to tenfold (£50–500).106 This huge discrepancy between the highest and lowest values of these categories seriously undermines the relevance of such a categorisation based on status. In other words, the status of a man does not in itself decide his ransom. The problem is not that status is an irrelevant factor but that the price of ransoms, as a general rule, was the result of a combination of the different factors identified at the beginning of this chapter: land incomes, status, functions, reputation. Strategic, political and more personal factors could be added.107 Not only could a myriad of factors intertwine, but the resulting price was also a personal appreciation of these factors at a particular time, and in 103 Poitiers, p. 156.  104 See p. 99. 105 Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 260. 106 Similar variations of prices are observable in my attempt to build a scale of the ransoms of Agincourt. These discrepancies are slightly less obvious in Andy King’s estimations of a knight’s ransom on the Scottish marches in the late fourteenth century; they ranged, according to him, from £100 to £333. King, ‘“According to the Custom”’, pp. 263–90. 107 For revenge, for instance, see Froissart, SHF, vol. vi, p. 122, vol. viii, p. viii, nn. 2 and 6.

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A two-tier system a particular context, of the war. The total absence of a standardisation of prices at higher levels of the hierarchy is the logical consequence of this and is further evidence of the individuality and compartmentalisation of the ransom business. These observations do not, however, apply at the lower end of the social ladder.This is the reason why we can talk about a two-tier system. Where higher-ranking prisoners were carefully valued on an individual basis, there are signs of a mechanisation of the process of ransoming at the other end of the social spectrum. We have already observed this with the more widespread application of les marz to humbler ransoms in the fifteenth century. This practice was accompanied by a standardisation of the price of ransoms. Surviving contracts for the payment of the royal rights on the ransoms of Agincourt are the earliest evidence of this standardisation that I have come across.108 The most recurrent sums included in these contracts were 22s 3d (five times), 33s 4d (nine times) and 44s 6d (six times). They most probably corresponded to the following prices of ransoms: that is, £10, £15 and £20 or possibly £3.333 (or 20 lt), £5 (or 30 lt) and £6.666 (or 40 lt), depending on the ratio of the royal right which either amounted to a third or a ninth (third of a third) of the ransoms.109 In either case, a scale of ransoms emerged: the lowest ransoms were worth two-thirds of the middle ones, which were worth three-quarters of the highest ones, the latter amounting to exactly twice the lowest ones. At around the same period, the accounts of Simon Fleet, controller of Harfleur, included a ransom of £22 4s 5¼d demanded from a French esquire, Colyn de Betancourt, which was almost exactly equivalent to a third of the ransom of a French knight, Charles de Nevale, which had been set at £66 14s 4d.110 It is no coincidence that among the most recurrent prices of ransoms collected by Philippe Contamine from the 200 counter-rolls of Norman garrisons between 1420 and 1440, three of them were also proportional to each other: 10 so, ½ mark (34 times); 20 so, one mark (46 times); 40 so, two marks (17 times).111 What formed the basis of these scales? The context of the ­surrender of Pont-Audemer, as described by one of two captains of the town, the English 108 Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, p. 781. 109 In theory, an archer would normally pay a third of the third of his ransom to the king, but I have shown elsewhere how this rule was not applied systematically at Agincourt. Ambühl, ‘A Fair Share’, pp. 142–8. 110 TNA, E 101/48/7 (1415–19). 111 13 so and 26 so (after the conversion of les marz) are the two most recurrent values. Fifty-two so comes fourth after 6 so (twenty-five times) and 20 so (twenty times), but it is interesting to note that 6 so is almost worth half 10 so, 1 mark. Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p. 260.

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom esquire Osbert Mundeford, in 1449, provides an answer.112 Mundeford claimed that he agreed to surrender to the bâtard of Orléans (Dunois), on the condition that he would pay 2,000 eo for his ransom and that the men-at-arms and archers under his command would each pay respectively 30 eo and 12 eo for theirs.The second captain of the town,William Bucton, made a separate agreement, according to which he was bound to pay 1,000 eo and les marz. Men-at-arms and archers under his command would each pay respectively 25 eo and 12 eo.This statement raises two important points: first, captains could negotiate ransoms on the spot and, second, prices were fixed on the basis of the function of these soldiers. Concerning the alleged prices of ransoms fixed by Bucton, it is interesting to note the close match with the two most recurrent figures from Contamine’s scale: 20 so + 1 mark = 26 so and 10 so + ½ mark = 13 so. By comparison, on the French side, the ransom for the garrison of the castle of Laval in 1428 was fixed at 16,000 eo, while its captain, André de Laval, lord of Lohéac, was charged 25,000 eo. If the captain was worth more than his men, the latter’s total ransom was still significant.113 It is also interesting to note in this case the ransoming of the garrison collectively.114 Substitute s for ransoms: re bate s and e xchange s of p ris one r s Michael K. Jones has investigated this issue within the framework of the fifteenth century, mainly from an English point of view. He sees the ‘arranged exchange with a French prisoner or alternatively a remission of the ransom from a French prisoner’s account’ as a crucial mechanism to release English soldiers from captivity ‘as quickly and advantageously as possible’, at a time when the ‘English soldiery was playing at increasingly high odds.’ He illustrates this point with numerous examples.115 This ‘crucial mechanism’, it must be noted, was most probably as important for the French as for the English soldiers, even at this late stage of the war. In fact, these rebates and exchanges should arguably be less associated with a particular phase of the war than with the excessive greed of masters and, more importantly perhaps, with the general lack of cash assets at that time.116 BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 147, no. 81 (20 August 1449); partially quoted in Contamine, ‘The Growth of State’, p. 172. 113 M. de Beauchesne, ‘Jean des Vaux, capitaine de Mayenne pendant la guerre de cent ans’, Revue Historique et Archéologique du Maine, 73 (1913), 225–72, pp. 259–60. 114 For other examples of collective ransoms, see Luce, Jeanne d’Arc, pp. 235–6, no. 203 (13 January 1429); TNA, C 1/12/188 (1433). 115 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, pp. 228–9. On Somerset, see M. K. Jones, ‘Henry VII, Lady Margaret Beaufort and the Orléans Ransom’, in R. A. Griffiths and J. Sherborne, Kings and Nobles in the Late Middle Ages (Gloucester, 1986), pp. 254–69, p. 256 (7 August 1442). 116 Bossuat, ‘Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, pp. 161–2. 112

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Substitutes for ransoms: rebates and exchanges This last issue – the lack of cash – must have exerted more pressure on the shoulders of higher-ranking lords (who were bound to pay bigger sums).This manifests itself in the complexity of some agreements reached at the top of the hierarchy, such as the contract sealed in February 1431 between Jean, bâtard of Orléans, count of Dunois, Tanguy Du Châtel, Thomas Beaufort, count of Perche, prisoner of du Châtel, and William de la Pole, earl of Suffolk.117 The main purpose of this agreement was the payment of Thomas Beaufort’s ransom which had been set at 28,000 eo (£7,000). In brief, acting on behalf of his elder brother, Charles, duke of Orléans, who was then prisoner in England, the bâtard of Orléans made a commitment to put du Châtel in possession of the duke’s lordship of Romorantin, which was supposed to be worth 28,000 eo, in return for his prisoner. The latter (Thomas Beaufort) was not expected to pay his ransom to the Orléans brothers in cash but to convert the money into the release of Jean d’Orléans, count of Angoulême, the younger brother of the duke of Orléans, who had been handed over to the duke of Clarence in 1412 as guarantee for the payment of a huge sum. By the time of this agreement in 1431, Angoulême was in the hands of Lady Margaret, duchess of Clarence, who was Thomas Beaufort’s mother. Finally, the earl of Suffolk was also bound to contribute to the deliverance of Angoulême through, amongst other things, the delivery of safe-conducts. His help would be rewarded with a rebate on his own ransom which he owed to the bâtard of Orléans.118 This project ultimately failed, mainly for financial reasons: the value of the lordship of Romorantin, devastated by war, seems to have been overestimated, but this by no means undermines the point made here. This complex agreement, which saw the intermingling of two ransom cases and a hostage case (Angoulême had been handed over in 1412; Beaufort and Suffolk were captured, in 1421 and 1429 respectively) was an attempt to overcome the difficulties of raising large sums of money by organising some sort of exchange between Angoulême and Beaufort or at least to deduct Beaufort’s ransom from that of Angoulême and to facilitate the latter’s release on parole. 117 BL, Add. Ch. 3655 (28 February 1431); Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 60; Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston Paid His Ransom’, p. 107. 118 Suffolk was already at large by March 1430, less than a year after his capture. This quick release of such a prominent lord would have been very surprising if he had not fallen into the hands of the bâtard of Orléans. The likely condition for his release was his commitment to finding a way out of prison for the younger Orléans brother and possibly the elder as well. G. E. Cokayne, The Complete Peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland, Great Britain and the United Kingdom, rev. V. Gibbs et al., 13 vols (London, 1910–59), vol. xi, p. 445; Foedera, vol. x, p. 566 (25 December 1433); see also Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 61. Suffolk claimed in 1449 that his ransom amounted to £20,000, but his detractors said that it did not exceed 12,000 marks. PROME, vol. v, p. 175. All we know is that he sold his lordship of Bricquebec to Sir Bertram Entwistle in 1429. Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol. i, p. 156, n. 1; English Suits, pp. 306–7.

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom The system of rebates mainly involved bigger ransoms for which payment could easily be spread over several years or even decades. In this respect, the ransoms of the Orléans brothers absorbed many an English ransom in the first half of the fifteenth century. Jones quotes the example of William Peyto (3,000 so), John Handford (4,000 so) and Henry Redford (6,000 so) whose ransoms were charged against the sums owed by Angoulême and Orléans, in 1442, 1443, and 1453.119 More examples can be given. Already in 1421, the duke of Orléans had been involved in the ransoming of an English knight, Brian Stapilton, who had fallen in the hands of his chamberlain, Jean Descroix.120 In 1427, several men of the duke of Orléans received safe-conducts to go to Orléans to negotiate the liberation of another English captive, John Legouppil.121 On another occasion, the bâtard of Orléans bought from Guy de Rochechouart, bishop of Saintes, an English prisoner worth 10,000 so to the profit of Angoulême.122 It is also through a rebate that the earl of Somerset obtained the release of a kinsman, John, Bastard of Somerset, who was in the hands of Gilbert de la Fayette, in 1442.123 Finally, acting on behalf of the duchess of Clarence, the earl of Suffolk promised that 7,000 so would be rebated from the ransom of Angoulême if Orléans managed to obtain the release of two hostages detained by the Scottish knight Laurence Vernon in 1447.124 This practice was not reserved to very large ransoms at the top of the hierarchy.The lucky survival of a detailed agreement in 1438 between the French knight, Jean de Vendôme, vidame de Chartres, and the English esquire, John Norbury, for example, shows its application one or even two echelons down the social ladder.125 This contract anticipated that Norbury would pay the 11,000 so of his ransom in cash, but he could enjoy a remission of 2,000–6,000 so depending on his managing to return two obligations contracted by Jean de Bueil (4,000 so) and the lord of Rais (2,000 so) which were in the hands of Walter, Lord Hungerford. These two obligations most probably concerned Vendôme’s own ransom, of which these 6,000 so had remained outstanding for around five years since; as we have already seen,Vendôme had fallen into the hands of Hungerford in the early 1430s. 119 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, pp. 229–31. 120 BL, Add. Ch. 295 (14 February 1421). 121 DKR, 48, p. 244. (16 January 1427). 122 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p.  61. I have not been able to trace this transaction. 123 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p.  67; Jones, ‘Henry VII, Lady Margaret Beaufort’, p. 256 (7 August 1442). 124 AN, J 919, fol. 15v–16 (22 December 1447). 125 BL, Add. Ch. 5833 (3 October 1438).

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Substitutes for ransoms: rebates and exchanges We can agree with Jones, who observed that ‘the system of exchanging prisoners of a roughly commensurate rank and status existed at all levels of the society.’126 It was certainly much easier, as one would expect, to find two prisoners of equal value at the lower end of the social spectrum. The system of rebates, from this perspective, could be considered as a bastard form of exchange between men of unequal rank. In this respect, John Talbot and Poton de Xaintrailles, two higher-ranking lords, were lucky enough to be taken prisoner less than two years apart. What is more, Xaintrailles fell into the hands of Talbot’s father-in-law, Richard Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, in August 1431.127 Things looked promising: a smooth exchange could have taken place, and certainly it was contemplated. Yet, for unknown reasons, it never happened, contrary to what is usually believed.128 Exchanges of prisoners were not as straightforward as one might believe. Jones argues that, ‘it was essential to obtain the help of an intermediary, or broker, who would secure the custody of appropriate prisoners of the opposite camp.’129 In support of this point, he quotes an illuminating letter of John Fastolf (c. 1436–40), in which the latter reminded two English esquires, Henry Inglose and John Berney, that ‘you were delivered out of prison by the means of two prisoners that I delivered to you … and in lyke wyse I bought another prysonner clepyt John Villers for the deliverance of Mautbye [John Mautby, Margaret Paston’s father].’130 Jones then tried to show that ‘such assistance could have profound effect on future loyalties and allegiance’, providing the examples of William Peyto and John Handford who became followers of the Beauforts.131 But how exceptional was this? The question is all the more relevant since the Orléans brothers were heavily indebted towards the Beaufort family, who held hostage the count of Angoulême and other French lords. It is not my intention to deny the role of intermediaries, but I believe that Jones’s strong emphasis on the role of these brokers overshadows the driving force in most of these projects of exchange: the prisoner himself and his servants.132 126 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 229. 127 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 229. 128 For evidence of the payments of their respective ransoms, see CPR 1429–36, p. 211 (8 July 1432); Foedera, vol.  x, p.  553 (22 July 1433); BL, Add. Ch. 3804 (1 May 1437); TNA, E 404/59/288 (7 August 1444). 129 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 230. 130 This letter to which Jones (‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 230) referred is published in Paston Letters and Papers of the Fifteenth Century, N. Davies, R. Beadle and C. Richmond, eds., 3 vols. (Oxford, 2004–5), vol. iii, pp. 46–7. 131 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, pp. 230–1. 132 For other examples of brokers, see, in particular, AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (22 December 1434) and AN, X1a 9198, fol. 266r (?1425).

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom In order to clarify the role of prisoners, there is a need to put the mechanisms of exchanges under closer scrutiny. Projects of exchange originated in the rapprochement of two separate captures of prisoners in opposite camps. When strong mutual interests in prisoners pre-existed, one could expect matters to run smoothly, as all parties would be inclined to contribute to the realisation of the project. The ending of a siege, followed by a treaty of surrender and the evacuation of a place, might have created favourable circumstances for straightforward exchanges. In 1360, for instance, Pierre d’Escalat, a Gascon lord, who occupied Véretz (Indre-et-Loire), agreed with marshal Boucicaut to evacuate the place in return for 2,900 eo and the release of prisoners taken on each side.133 Matthew Gough wrote in a letter to the municipality of Evreux in 1431 that he would ‘give prisoner for prisoner’ when the town of Louviers ultimately surrendered.134 The balance was unequal at Nogent in 1417 where the duke of Burgundy insisted that if a lord had a ‘bon home’ (possibly a wealthy man) as prisoner in the town, and if this lord had a varlet of Nogent in his hand, he would exchange the varlet for the ‘bon home’.135 Such smooth exchanges were not, however, the rule. The likelihood that two different masters would be equally interested in their respective prisoners of equal rank was particularly small. The most common situation is illustrated by Figure 1, where the rapprochement between the two captures operates on the basis of a single link between captor and prisoner of the same allegiance. For instance, Tanguy du Châtel (master 1), who had in his hands Thomas Rempston (prisoner 1), showed interest in releasing Guillaume Bouteiller (prisoner 2), who was in the hands of the duchess of Clarence (master 2), but the duchess of Clarence (master 2) had no particular interest in Rempston (prisoner 1).136 Another example: John Cornwall (master 1), who had Louis de Bourbon, count of Vendôme (prisoner 1) in his hands, was interested in the liberation of his stepson John Holland, earl of Huntingdon (prisoner 2), who had been captured by the earl of Buchan (master 2), but here again, Buchan (master 2) had no interest whatsoever in Vendôme.137 133 J. Delaville Le Roulx, ed. Registres des comptes municipaux de la ville de Tours, 2 vols. (Tours, 1878– 81), vol. i, pp. 179 and 229; Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 441, n. 218. 134 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 230. 135 U. Plancher, Histoire générale et particulière de Bourgogne, 4 vols. (Dijon, 1739–81), vol. iii, p. 307, preuve, no. 304. In the same category of ‘smooth’ exchanges, Barbour also referred to exchanges arranged more or less on the spot during a Scottish campaign in 1318. King, ‘“According to the Custom”’, p. 276. 136 See PROME, vol. xi, pp. 179–80. 137 For the ownership of Huntingdon, see pp. 66–7 and n. 71.

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Substitutes for ransoms: rebates and exchanges Capture 1

Capture 2

Master 1

Master 2

Keys Obligation toward Interest in Same pattern, same allegiance

Prisoner 1

Prisoner 2

Figure 1 Exchanges.

This representation helps to visualise the major obstacle in the execution of these projects: i.e. the absence of connection between prisoner 1 and master 2. In this context, Olivier le Forestier was lucky enough that, following his capture at Verneuil, in 1424, his brother Pierre captured Jean des Loges whom Forestier’s captors ‘avoient moult chier … et le desiroient trop a avoir’ (had a close bond with … and wanted him dearly).138 Unilateral interest had become mutual interest. In general, prisoner 1 was not so lucky and saw himself forced to negotiate with master 2.Very often this negotiation included prisoner 1’s acquisition of the rights of master 2 over prisoner 2. This could prove to be very difficult, as Raoul de Gaucourt described in his complaint against Louis, lord of Estouteville.139 The two French knights (prisoner 1) had agreed as part payment of their ransom to release 120–40 English prisoners (prisoner 2), who were very harshly treated in France. Gaucourt carried out the mission: ‘I returned to France, and incurred great loss, as well as trouble, in the liberation of from six to seven score prisoners, gentlemen, merchants and soldiers; advancing [a deposit], so that upon paying the surplus, they might be set at liberty by a certain day.’140 Once back in England, Henry V (master 1) asked him to bring the prisoners to London. ‘Upon this I employed all my interest with my friends and incurred such responsibilities and obligations that I obtained the liberation of the six or seven score prisoners whom I supplied with new clothes and liveries, and likewise brought to London in a ship hired for the purpose.’ After that, Gaucourt and Estouteville also paid the expenses of custody of the prisoners in the Tower of London for four and a half months. 138 AN, X1a 9201, fol. 94v (31 July 1432).These very favourable circumstances did not, however, prevent the collapse of the project of exchange, as Des Loges was dishonestly put to ransom by the man who had been entrusted with his custody. 139 See pp. 72–5. 140 Nicolas, History of the Battle, Appendix, p. 26.

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom Such a detailed testimony of a prisoner’s experience is rather exceptional. The sources occasionally allow a view of prisoners in action, like Richard Ouselles, who, in 1412, requested a safe-conduct to go to Calais and release Trenewyth and Brown, two prisoners in the hands of the French whose ransoms would be rebated from his account.141 In 1420, Aubert de Montfort, prisoner of Perrinet Gressart, was sent to Bourges in an exchange with a Burgundian imprisoned in the tower of Bourges.142 When these projects of exchanges materialised, prisoner 1 usually ended up paying master 2 for prisoner 2, as there was no reason for master 2 to give up a well-deserved ransom for the sake of a man of the same allegiance but with whom he had no particular connection.143 The question thus arises as to why prisoner 1 did not pay his ransom in the first place, since he would still end up paying the rights over a prisoner of the same rank. The answer is simple. Negotiations between two men of the same allegiance (i.e. prisoner 1 and master 2) were more open, and options for payment were more varied. We have seen, for instance, that the Orléans brothers tried to acquire the rights over Thomas Beaufort in return for the lordship of Romorantin. Such a deal with the duchess of Clarence, who held the younger Orléans, was simply unthinkable. In general, one wonders which English master would be interested in payment of a ransom in lands situated in enemy territories. The ceding of lands was nevertheless a very common way to obviate the lack of cash. The debts contracted by the crown offered yet another solution. Edward III’s rights over his prisoner, Guillaume des Bordes, whom the king agreed to sell to Thomas Felton following the latter’s capture in 1377, were rebated from outstanding war wages owed to Felton.144 It was in the same way that John Cornwall obtained two king’s prisoners, Raoul de Gaucourt and Jean d’Estouteville, in 1423, which facilitated the liberation of his stepson, John Holland, who was captured at Baugé in 1421.145 Shared allegiance did not, however, necessarily imply concord TNA, SC 8/305/15219 (?1412). 142 Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 7. 143 For example, the count of Vendôme bought the rights over John Holland. PROME, vol.  x, pp. 252–3 (April 1425). John Beaufort, earl of Somerset, bought Henry VI’s rights over Charles d’Artois, count of Eu. POPC, vol. iv, p. 294; TNA, E 404/53/153; Foedera, vol. x, p. 664; see also Harriss, Cardinal Beaufort, pp. 279–80. 144 CPR 1377–81, p. 543; Foedera (PRO), vol. ii, p. 267 (3 August 1380). 145 TNA, SC 8/85/4229; PROME, vol. x, pp. 172–3 (October 1423). It is interesting to note that the crown occasionally used prisoners as a way of remuneration. Hugues de Roucy was given in June 1370 as compensation and wages of war to Florimont de Lesparre who discharged the king of the £1,000 due to his father, CCR, 1369–1374, p. 191 (8 June 1370); TNA, E 30/258 (17 June 1370). See also the prisoners of Meaux surrendered to Robert Scot, their guardian in the Tower of London, as payment for the custody of the said prisoners. Foedera, vol. x, p. 297 (13 July 1423); POPC, vol. iii, pp. 153–4 (8 July 1424). 141

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Substitutes for ransoms: rebates and exchanges and fairness. Gilet and Jaquotin de Coquerel, for example, were involved in a legal case against Girard Rolin, captain of Lagny, in 1420 because of their alleged failure to pay for the release of two prisoners who had secured their own freedom.146 Finally, projects of exchange might all too easily fail for various reasons, but mainly, I believe, because prisoner 1 did not manage to interest master 2. In such circumstances other alternatives might need to be explored. Interestingly, the case of Thomas Cooley shows the level of priorities of his masters.147 This English knight was captured by the French at Sablé some time in 1429. His subsequent treatment involved four alternative options. Option 1: his ransom was set at 900 eo, plus the customary rights. He was released on parole but soon returned to prison as he was unable to raise this sum. Option 2: his masters then suggested that he regain his freedom through an exchange with the French captain of Coursillon, possibly Jean du Bueil, who was prisoner at Laval. But Cooley declined this offer, claiming that he could not afford to pay the ransom of du Bueil: ‘il n’avoit pas la puissance ne faculté de paier la somme pour laquele il tenoit et estoit prisonnier’ (he had neither the power nor the ability to pay the sum for which he was held and was prisoner). His angry captors put him back in prison and increased his ransom by 200 eo.148 Raising the amount of his ransom was no solution. After two more weeks of harsh conditions of captivity, Cooley’s masters offered him the option (Option 3) of changing allegiance and fighting on their side. This was an option that many bankrupt prisoners took, or so they claimed.149 Cooley refused. His final option was the capture of a Norman, Jean d’Anisy, whom he would hand over to them. He complied and later asked remission for this act of treason. 146 Rolin claimed that he could have demanded 1,000 fo from one of the prisoners called Lespinasse and 500 fo from Pierre de Rou and thus asked for 1,200 eo from the Coquerels as compensation. The two brothers pretended that Rolin only asked for ‘a pile of goblets of 6 marks’ in return for the prisoner, which they had already given to him. AN, X1a 4793, fol. 10v, 13r (13 January 1420). 147 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. ii, pp. 149–53, no. 198 (18 September 1429). 148 This practice was the object of one of Charny’s Les Demandes. If a prisoner agreed to pay a certain amount within a certain period of time but failed to honour his debt, would the master be allowed to increase the price of his ransom? KBR, Ms. 11125, fol. 73ro; Charny, ‘Les Demandes’, p. 88. According to the law of arms, it was argued in the legal case for the ransom of Olivier du Guesclin, who did not honour his dates of payment, that he could be put to ransom afresh by his masters for either a greater or a lesser sum. Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 23. In 1366, Eudes de Champdenay agreed with his master Ralph Salle in 1366 that his ransom would double if he did not honour their obligation in due time. KLW, p. 168 and n. 3. This practice was seemingly no longer accepted by the end of the war. Bastid, ‘Le Droit de la guerre’, p. 182. 149 On changes of allegiance, see pp. 92–3.

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Ransoming (II): the price of freedom Conclusion A distinctive feature of attempts to set the right price for the ransom of a prisoner is just how private and individualised the arrangement was. There are two strong indicators of this. First, as we have seen, there was a great variety of prices for ransoms at the higher level of the social hierarchy. This indicates an absence of uniformity in assessing such ransoms. Estimations, and transactions made over the head of the prisoners, were notably self-contained. There was no proper speculation and no market. All of these factors contributed to preserving the individuality of the ransom process. Second, private negotiations took place between masters and prisoners, seeking the best way to secure a deal and exploring alternatives to cash payments, such as the exchange of prisoners. It was ultimately down to the prisoner to make this work, but he might face serious obstacles. Cooley, in this respect, seems to have been particularly lucky to have had such conciliatory masters. One wonders how many other prisoners died in prison because they were not offered the opportunity to change allegiance and could not find any alternative means of securing their release. External interference from the authorities in the assessment of ransoms, or in the way prisoners regained their freedom, was largely insignificant.Things were different, however, once the price was set, since both crown and captain were entitled to a portion of the money pocketed by those who had taken the prisoner. Ordinances of war, as we have seen in Chapter 4, were designed to ensure that the capture of prisoners was not concealed.150 English captains in Norman garrisons were also supposed to keep a close eye on this business. This clause in the indentures of war, whereby any sale of a prisoner to a third party should receive the captain’s consent, suggests that there were soldiers who tried to conceal their ransom profits, as Anne Curry believes, and that the authorities tried to remedy this situation.151 The purpose of the garrison counter-rolls was also to reduce the amount of fraud. The fact that they were drawn up by a soldier of the garrison who was financially independent from the captain shows that the English crown was also wary of its own captains. In this respect, Thomas Burgh was the object of a full investigation in 1426 at Avranches regarding the concealment of profits of war,152 but the case was eventually dropped because the verification of Burgh’s claims consumed too much time.153 150 See pp. 115–18.  151 See n. 93. 152 BnF, Ms. Fr. 4488, p. 608. A report was drafted at some point. 153 BnF, Ms. Fr. 4488, p. 609.

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Conclusion A second distinctive feature revealed by this investigation of the price of freedom is the mechanisation of the process of ransoming at lower level of the hierarchy. This took two different forms: the standardisation of the price of ransoms and the standardisation of the costs of custody (les marz). This seems to have been a necessary evolution to make the ransoming of lesser soldiers profitable. Such an evolution may have had a considerable impact on the lives of these men, who were more readily spared as a result. The form of this two-tier system, which differentiated higher and lower-ranking prisoners, prefigures the ransoming practice of the next two centuries.154

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 See pp. 262–3.

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Chapter 6

M e r c h a nt s, ba nking an d trade

Et ce que dit le procureur du Roy qu’il ne loist a aucun de contracter avec les adversaires … [Jean de Cayeu] respond que en plusieurs cas on peut contracter avec les adversaires mesmement pour prisonniers, et dire le contraire est iniquité, et en tel cas pour la delivrance de son corps [the prisoner] se peut mettre a finance sans le congié du roy. And … the general attorney says that it is illegal to contract with the enemy … [Jean de Cayeu] answers that, in various circumstances, one can contract with enemies, i.e. in the case of prisoners; and saying the opposite is unjust, and in such a case for the deliverance of his body [the prisoner] is allowed to ransom himself without the king’s consent.1

This was how Jean de Cayeu, banker of Amiens, justified his involvement in the transfer of money from Amiens to Beauvais for the payment of ransoms of two Burgundian prisoners in 1436, when faced with accusations that he had been communicating intelligence to the enemy. We will come back to the circumstances of this case in due course. For the present, let us focus on the debate itself. This highlights a fundamental issue: the necessity for prisoners, and for intermediaries acting on their behalf, to enter into negotiations with the enemy. This, according to the general attorney, was illegal. Contact with the enemy threatened to endanger the ‘common good’, or, at least, the public interests of the prince. We have seen how the crown was sensitive to this issue.2 Cayeu dismissed the general attorney’s argument as unfair. He went even further by claiming that the king had no right to interfere in the matter. If the king had no say, Cayeu’s argument implied, it was because the authorities left no other option for the prisoner and his associates than to enter into The legal case (AN, X1a 4797, fol. 302–8) from which this extract derives has been thoroughly examined in Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, pp. 27–32. 2 See Chapter 3. 1

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Merchants, banking and trade negotiations with the enemy in order to regain freedom. Cayeu’s argument was approved by the court, as is seen by its sentence pronounced in 1436. In theory, heralds who enjoyed immunity of war were designated to conduct negotiations with the enemy for the release of prisoners of war. The treatise of Jean Courtois, alias Sicily Herald (c. 1434–7), anticipated that heralds should enquire about captives and stand as surety for the payment of the ransoms of noblemen.3 If requested, they were also expected to lend money and horses for the release of such prisoners. As for non-nobles, heralds were expected to pledge their release or to pay their ransom with the proviso that they could ensure compensation from these gentlemen, ‘car aultrement ilz n’y sont point constrains, si non par pitié et miséricorde’ (for otherwise, they were not compelled to do it unless out of pity and a sense of mercy).4 In the ideal world depicted by Sicily Herald, heralds directed interaction with the enemy and kept them within strict limits. This was not the case in practice. In the documentary sources, heralds occasionally dealt with ransoms as messengers,5 negotiatiors,6 or conveyors of funds.7 Yet the plethora of individuals within the social circle of the prisoners, such as servants, relatives, and merchants, who worked to secure their release under the protection of safe-conducts, demonstrates the lack of involvement of heralds. In fact, it reveals the absence of any organised system or network for the process of ransoming. Note, too, that heralds frequently acted as personal servants of a lord, working on private matters. The obstacles raised by the absence of any official or public organisation for the release of prisoners of war, and the great personal initiative that was therefore required from prisoners and their associates, are easy to imagine. The difficulty is pinning down the resulting problems and exploring the ways in which contemporaries circumvented them. This For these observations relating to the military responsibility of heralds, see Parties inédites de l’oeuvre de Sicile, p. 45; as cited in Adam-Even, ‘Les Fonctions militaires’, pp. 14–15. Jean Courtois was first herald of Pierre de Luxembourg, lord of Enghien. He then served under Louis d’Anjou, king of Jerusalem, before he took the name of Herald Sicily in the service of King Alfonso V of Aragon. It must be noted that the role of heralds in the late Middle Ages extended far beyond the limited framework of war. They were also diplomats and ambassadors. See the collection of articles in B. Schnerb, ed., ‘Le Héraut, figure européenne, XIVe–XVIe siècle: actes du colloque tenu au musée des Beaux-Arts de Lille, les 15, 16 et 17 septembre 2005’, Revue du Nord, 88 (2006), 463–825. 4 Parties inédites de l’œuvre de Sicile, p. 46; as cited in Adam-Even, ‘Les Fonctions militaires’, p. 14. 5 Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 18, n. 5 (31 August 1423); AN, X1a 4796, fol. 110ro, 181 (February 1430); Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 165; BL, Add. Ch. 1488 (12 October 1440). 6 BnF, PO 1513, Herbi, 2 (1 October 1427); Cousinot, Chronique, p.  285; Régnier, Les Fortunes, pp. 31–2; AN, X1a 4797, fol. 47v (9 March 1433). ADN, B 1972, fol. 185r–v (15 October 1441). 7 Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, pp.  28–9; BnF, Ms. Fr. 26063, nos.  3236, 3256 (16 July 1437). 3

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Merchants, banking and trade chapter is focused on one aspect which is better documented than any other: the necessary interconnection between the world of the prisoner and that of the ‘merchant banker’. In particular, the practical questions of money-changing, money-lending and money transfer will be considered through a variety of different sources. The last two parts of this chapter, largely based on grants of royal safe-conducts and licences to trade, shed light on the raising of funds through trading activity. Money-chang ing By the early fifteenth century three distinct levels of coinages were in use in western Europe: gold, silver and billon (a silver–copper alloy, called ‘monnaie noire’ or black money in France).8 By and large, each type of coin had a specific function. For most people, silver coins were the most important.They were used for the major payments of everyday life: wages, rents, taxes. The billon, whose silver content was almost negligible, was mainly used in towns and cities for small day-to-day purchases. Gold coins, on the other hand, were used in international banking and in large payments between princes. King John II’s ransom, usually given as an example of these ‘political’ payments, prompted the first minting of the gold franc in France, which was called franc to celebrate the king’s freedom.9 Gold coins were not used solely for the ransoms of kings and princes, however. Evidence shows that they were the main unit of payment for the whole ransom business, even at the lower echelons of the social hierarchy. This is noticeable in the counter-rolls of English-held Norman garrisons where, as we have seen, ransoms were paid in gold coins (so) but where the expenses of custody were paid in silver marks even when the sums did not exceed 10 so.10 The conversion of billon and silver coins into gold coins was not a straightforward transaction and was further complicated by the different currencies in circulation in the kingdoms of France and England, by the politics of debasement in the early fifteenth century and, finally, by the general shortage of bullion which marked the end of the Middle Ages.11 This last problem is evoked in a petition of the commons which was presented to the minority government of Henry VI in a session of the

Unless otherwise stated, the following general comment on coinage is based on P. Spufford, Money and Its Use in Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 319–38.  9 E. Fournial, Histoire monétaire de l’Occident médiéval (Paris, 1970), pp. 118–19. 10 See pp.  141–2. For lower sums paid in so, see, for instance, the counter-roll of the garrison of Vernon finishing on 7 June 1430. BL, Add. Ch. 3664. 11 On debasement and bullion-famines, see Spufford, Money and Its Use, pp. 304–18, 339–62.  8

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Money-changing parliament of 1423.12 The commons asked the authorities to exert tighter control over the export of gold and silver from the realm.They acknowledged the inevitability of such overseas transfers under particular circumstances. Amongst these featured ‘ransoms for the finance of English prisoners taken, and to be taken, overseas’.13 This is clear evidence both of the concerns occasioned by this shortage of bullion in the early fifteenth century and of the relative significance of the volume of bullion exported for ransom payments, sizeable enough to be acknowledged and mentioned in the petition.14 Surviving sources allow us only to touch upon the vast question of coinage and money-changing. Problems occurred, even at the top of the social hierarchy. The ransom of John II was expected to be paid in saluts d’or at the value of 1 English noble for 2 so.15 From time to time, part of the large amount of bullion imported in England was reminted. This operation resulted in a dispute in 1360 on the respective value of the currencies; the French complained that there was too much alloy in the English coins.16 In return, Edward III compelled the French to make additional payments because some of their coins proved to be worth less than they should have done. Thomas Kyriel encountered a similar problem towards the end of the Hundred Years War.17 He was bound to pay, and indeed did pay, 4,000 so towards the ransoms of Thomas and John Stewart who had been captured at Pontoise in 1442, but it turned out that the coins he provided weighed under the agreed 70 gold coins per gold mark (a unit of weight). As a result, the English knight was compelled to pay an extra 16 so of the right weight.18 The real issue for the great majority of prisoners related to an earlier stage of the fund-raising process: the conversion of silver coins into gold coins.19 The trials and tribulations of Jean de Villeneuve, a French 12 PROME, vol. x, pp. 183–4 (October 1423). 13 PROME, vol. x, pp. 183–4 (October 1423). 14 On the importation of silver to England, see M. Allen, ‘Silver Production and the Money Supply in England and Wales, 1086–c.1500’, Economic History Review, 64 (2011), 114–31. 15 D. Broome, ‘The Ransom of John II, King of France, 1360–1370’, Camden Miscellany, 14 (1926). See also Delachenal, Charles V, vol. ii, pp. 220–37, 325–31. 16 Broome, ‘The Ransom of John II’, pp. xvi–xvii. 17 BL, Add. Ms. 15644, fol. 47r–48r (18 April 1442). 18 The mark here has nothing to do with the silver mark; it is a unit of weight which may vary according to the region. It is not clear in this case what the weight of this unit was. In any case, ‘sexante diw saluz d’orc pour marc d’or’ means that the gold mark would be divided up in seventy gold coins (no more, no less). The weight of each coin was thus well defined. (If a gold mark was 250 grams, each coin would weigh around 3.5 grams.) Fournial, Histoire monétaire, pp. 23–4. 19 Unfortunately, this aspect of the raising of John II’s ransom has not been examined. This may be due to the lack of sources. The English Mint and Exchequer refer to a large variety of French gold coins delivered to them (they were not all worth 24-carat gold), but the use of the French

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Merchants, banking and trade merchant and inhabitant of La Rochelle, illustrate this point effectively.20 Jean told the court in 1424 that his trading activities used to take him to different towns in France. Amongst these was Le Crotoy in Picardy, where he heard of the capture and detention in Calais of a French knight, Raoul Girart. He decided to involve himself in the raising of his ransom, which had been set at 500 so.21 Colin Langlois, ‘magister particularis monete’ (particular master of the money) for the king in Le Crotoy, was not able to lend this sum to Villeneuve in gold coins, but he gave him the equivalent in billon, and told him that he could convert the money in Boulogne. It turned out, however, that the money had been counterfeit, and Villeneuve was thrown into prison. When he eventually regained his freedom, he came back to Le Crotoy and asked for an explanation from Langlois, who sent him straight away to jail. The case was ultimately brought before the Parlement of Paris, which issued an order of arrest against Langlois and forced him to compensate Villeneuve. This example may not be the most representative of the difficulties met by fund-raisers since it involves a blatant fraud. Nevertheless, it indicates a shortage of golden coins and the need to convert silver coins into gold, which must have been a very common problem. Even the fortunes of the greatest nobles were made up of the money of their subjects, who never, or rarely, saw the colour of gold.This case also sheds light on the protracted nature of the process of fund-raising for ransoms. Money-changing was costly. It was one of the main sources of profit for Florentine bankers.22 Their acknowledged expertise is attested by Edward III’s reorganisation of the Mint in the Tower of London under écu, rather than the new gold franc, was clearly predominant. Fournial, Histoire monétaire, pp. 10–11 (no. v). See also Delachenal, Charles V, vol. ii, pp. 225–31. 20 AN, X1a 9190, fol. 305rv (19 August 1424). 21 Raoul Girart, lord of Bazoches (possibly La Bazoche-Gouet, département Eure-et-Loir, arrondissement Nogent-le-Rotrou, canton Authon-de-Perche), was a close ally of Jean des Vaux from Maine, to whom he was a cousin by marriage to Marguerite, daughter of Jean des Vaux, lord of Lévaré (a brother of Des Vaux’s father). He was the son of Jean Girard and Marie de Lunel who also had a daughter Héliette whose first husband was established near La Rochelle. We learn in another court case in July 1425 that the custody of Girart’s children had been entrusted to his mother, Marie de Lunel, during his captivity. But she was dead by that time and Girart was still in prison. The tide seems to have turned in Girart’s favour by 1430, when he was in possession of an English prisoner, Richard Hilton, whom he sold to Des Vaux for 200 so. It is difficult to establish Girart’s geographical roots on the basis of his lordship, but it seems relatively clear that the family had close connections and interests in Maine.This link to ‘western’ France may explain Villeneuve’s involvement in his ransom. AN, X1a 9195, fol. 229v–230r (26 July 1425); Anselme de Sainte Marie, Histoire généalogique et chronologique de la maison royale de France, 9 vols. (3rd edn, Paris, 1726–33), vol. ii, p. 279; de Beauchesne, ‘Jean des Vaux’, pp. 225–72. 22 It must be noted here that the predominance of money-changing there was the result of the intricacies of the Florentine monetary system, but the general disorderly state of medieval currency is a proven fact. R. De Roover, The Rise and Decline of the Medici Bank, 1397–1494 (Cambridge, Mass., 1963), p. 17.

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Money transfer their direction in 1361, shortly after the king had ordered a reassessment of the value of the French coins which had been handed in for John II’s ransom.23 Short-term accounts, such as those opened on behalf of John Hastings, earl of Pembroke, in Bruges in 1372, or for Thomas Rempston, in London, in 1436, may have had no other purpose save to anticipate the operation of money-changing for payment of their ransoms.24 Account holders did not normally pay money to have an account, nor did they receive any interest. The merchant was expected to make profits by setting exchange rates advantageous to himself.25 Surprisingly, however, the Borromei bank did not make a penny in Rempston’s case even though it was a straightforward banking operation. On the contrary, the surviving ledger of the bank for the years 1436–9 shows that it suffered a severe loss of £136 10s 8d.26 Jim Bolton wonders whether this was due to misfortune – an unexpected movement in exchange rates – or incompetence. Many other bankers  – indeed the great majority  – were successful. A good example is Simone d’Antonio Nori who, according to Margaret, Lady Hungerford, charged no less than 10 per cent on the conversion into foreign currencies of a sum of £7,690 raised for the payment of her son’s ransom.27 Money transf e r Once raised, the funds had to be transferred through enemy territories to the masters of prisoners.The bills of exchange – that is, the letters of a merchant which ordered his agent-banker in another city to make payment on his behalf – circumvented the danger of carrying large quantities of precious metals.28 These bills had become widespread by the first half of the fourteenth century over a wide range of cities in western Europe. 23 Broome, ‘The Ransom of John II’, p. 16, n. 1. 24 On Hastings’ ransom and Du Guesclin’s litigations with the municipal councillors of Bruges who allowed the English to withdraw the money and letters of obligation which had been entrusted to merchant-bankers from Lucca following Hastings’s death, see Letters, Orders and Musters, nos. 633, 644n, 648, 660, 725–6. 25 On the role of bank accounts and deposits, see R. de Roover, Money, Banking and Credit in Medieval Bruges: Italian Merchant-Bankers, Lombards and Money-Changers – A Study in the Origins of Banking (Cambridge, Mass., 1948), pp. 247–92; R. A. Goldthwaite, ‘Local Banking in Renaissance Florence’, The Journal of European Economic History, 14 (1985), 5–55, at pp. 19–27. 26 Rempston’s capture and the intricacies of the payment of his ransom are well documented, but the study of Jim Bolton based on the testimony of this ledger sheds new light on it. Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston paid his Ransom’, pp. 111–18. 27 Extract from Lady Margaret Hungerford’s will (8 August 1476) published in Dugdale, The Baronage, vol. ii, p. 209; see also Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost’, p. 15. 28 For an overview of the evolution of the bill of exchange and the international banking system, see P. Spufford, Power and Profit:The Merchant in Medieval Europe (London, 2002), pp. 34–8. The system of the bill of exchange is explained in detail in Roover, Money, Banking, pp. 48–75.

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Merchants, banking and trade Rempston’s case offers a fine example of its use in a ransom payment. The English knight had opened an account with the Borromei bank in London in the summer of 1436. A few months later, the sum of £1,663 4s 11d, estimated as the equivalent of the 9,000 eo (which was the second half of the knight’s ransom) was sent by bill of exchange from London to Avignon.There the sum was converted into French gold coins and passed on to Rempston’s master, Tanguy du Châtel. Rempston was freed by the end of the year and returned almost immediately to France as lieutenant of Calais. The bill of exchange, in this case, was a particularly efficient tool for a smooth and speedy payment of his ransom. How commonly it was used by masters and prisoners in the Hundred Years War is uncertain. Rempston’s ransom is the only known instance where the sources give indisputable evidence of the use of bills of exchange in a ransom transaction.The exceptional survival of this fragment of the Borromei ledger for the years 1436–9 needs to be taken into account.29 Further cases might have been revealed if more fragments had survived. However, the system of bills of exchange had its limits. Too large an amount would create an imbalance between the two banking places, which this system would not be able to absorb.These large sums needed to be conveyed partially or totally in specie. Not surprisingly, this was the case with the great sums carried for the payment of King John II’s ransom.30 It may have been for this reason that the bill of exchange was not an option for the ransom of Jean d’Angoulême in 1432, since this involved a payment of 80,000 eo.31 As it happened, merchants refused to ship this large sum in specie because of the danger of crossing the Channel at that point. The size of these ransoms was extraordinary. Many a ransom, indeed most of them, were set at lower levels but still needed transfer of cash. How had the £2,000 paid in London by three Lombards acting on behalf of Olivier du Guesclin crossed the Channel in 1381?32 Or how did the 6,000 fo instalment for the ransom of Jean de Penthièvre paid on the latter’s behalf to Parisian merchants acting for Bartholomew Baude, proctor of the master of the prisoner Robert de Vere, eventually end up in England in the latter’s pocket?33 In both cases the involvement of merchants and bankers may point to the use of bills of exchange, but this 29 On this source, see F. Guidi Bruscoli and J. L. Bolton, ‘The Borromei Bank Research Project’, in L. Armstrong, I. Elbl and M. Elbl, eds., Money, Markets and Trade in Late Medieval Europe (Leiden, 2006), pp. 460–88. 30 Broome, ‘The Ransom of John II’, chap. 3. See also Delachenal, Charles V, vol.  ii, pp.  220–37, 325–31. 31 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 63. 32 Calendar of Select Pleas, pp. 197–300; see also Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 23. 33 Jones, ‘The Ransom of Jean de Bretagne’, p. 282.

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Money transfer cannot be proved. The case of Thomas Voudenay’s ransom is interesting. In a receipt dated at London on 24 December 1356, Simon Worsted, mercer and citizen of London, acting on behalf of Sir William Welesby, acknowledged receipt of 300 gold florins, a silver goblet and a ring of gold with stones.The latter had been handed to him by ‘Turel Guascoin’, a merchant of Lucca, for the payment of Voudenay’s ransom.34 We do not know whether the gold florins had been sent ‘virtually’ by bill of exchange or whether they actually crossed the Channel, but the goblet and rings are evidence of a tangible transfer of goods. It must be assumed that the gold florins had been shipped along with them. The material transport of money across the Channel is well illustrated in the sources. Take, for example, the petition of the commons of October 1423. This, as we have seen, acknowledged the need for the export of bullion for the payment of ransoms of English prisoners in France. Conversely, English royal safe-conducts granted to French prisoners and their associates bear witness to the importation of bullion into England. Delivery of these safe-conducts is recorded in the ‘French Rolls’ of the English Chancery, which are well preserved for the period of the Hundred Years War.35 Many French prisoners appear in these rolls, most of them as recipients of safe-conducts for the raising and payment of their ransom.We read, for instance, in letters of safe-conduct delivered to Pierre Gauntier of France, prisoner of John Wylde, on 5 July 1418, that Gauntier was authorised to go to parts of France to raise his ransom there, and that, according to the contract he had made with his master, he was due to come back to England with his ransom and to pay it to Wylde within the next two months.36 The content of this safe-conduct was fairly typical. A clause mentioning the eventual return to England, with the ransom, by the prisoner or his associate, often a servant, was widespread.37 34 Memorials of London and London Life: In the 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries, H. T. Riley, ed. (London, 1868), pp. 280–94; see also Poitiers, p. 365. Jewels and plate were often used as security in the late Middle Ages; see, for instance, Henry’s financing of the English army of Agincourt, in Curry, Agincourt, pp. 413–16. 35 The Treaty or French Rolls are preserved in the National Archives under the reference TNA, C 76. Some of these safe-conducts are published (not always in their totality) in Foedera, vol. iv–xi and Catalogue des rolles gascons, normans et francois conservés dans les archives de la Tour de Londres, T. Carte, ed., 2 vols. (London and Paris, 1743). Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the Treaty Rolls for the reign of Henry V and Henry VI were calendared in DKR, 44 and 48. It must be noted here that these calendars do not include all of the entries of the French Rolls. 36 TNA, C 76/101, m. 7. 37 I have systematically consulted the French Rolls for the years 1415–20, in which such references abound.TNA, C 76/98–102. Only rarely would prisoners be expected to pay their ransoms in Calais (C 76/98, m. 3; 102, m. 6) or, even more rarely, in Jersey, C 76/101, m. 3.The safety measures included in these documents seem to have grown tighter in the first half of the fifteenth century. Compare, for example, C 76/99, m. 3 (8 February 1416) to C 76/102, m. 6 (16 November 1419) and C 76/109, m. 15 (24 October 1427). It is a point that I hope to investigate further in a future paper.

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Merchants, banking and trade Usually the same prisoner would appear in only one or two safe-conducts, which suggests that the ransom business was concluded fairly smoothly and quickly. This was not the case, however, for Jean de Vendôme, vidame de Chartres, the payment of whose ransom gave rise to multiple crossings of the Channel in the early 1430s. He was in the hands of Walter Hungerford on 11 July 1433 when the royal chancery issued a safe-conduct for one of his servants, Jean Thibaut.38 The safe-conduct was valid for six months. During this period Thibaut was authorised to come to England, together with two or three men, horses, luggage and permitted goods, to negotiate the vidame’s ransom with Hungerford. A new safe-conduct was delivered to Thibaut at the moment of his departure from England on 28 December 1433. It was valid for three and a half months and allowed him to leave with a man in his company in order to raise the money for the ransom of his master and to come back to England with the money.39 At the same juncture, another safe-conduct, also running for three and a half months, was provided to four friends and relatives of the prisoner, together with fifteen men in their retinue, who were coming to England to pay the ransom of the vidame.40 Interestingly, the document provides a detailed list of goods, including specie, that they were allowed to bring with them into England: horses, books, letters, papers, sureties, gold, silver, jewels. In February 1434, the duke of Bedford delivered a safe-conduct to two servants of the vidame, together with a further three men and three women, which authorised them to go to Vendôme, Sablé, Sillé, Beaumont, la Ferté, Châteaugontier, La Guerche and elsewhere.41 Without doubt, this convoy was actively working in France for the release of the vidame. A month later, in March 1434, Jean, Louis and Reginald de Vendôme together with Blanchet d’Estouteville acquired a new safe-conduct to go to England for the vidame’s ransom.The list of authorised items they could bring with them included gold, silver, vessels, jewels, luggage, bags, horses and harnesses.42 The terms of this safe-conduct refer to a ‘final conclusion’ for the release and ransom of the vidame. If this new delivery did not pay for the whole ransom, it did at least allow the release of the vidame on parole. Fifteen days later, on 14 April 1434, the vidame and his suite of around fifteen men received safe-conducts to return to France.43 They were expected to come back to Calais within a year with part of his ransom, to TNA, C 76/115, m. 5. Foedera, vol. x, p. 566. 40 Foedera, vol. x, p. 566. 41  AN, KK 324, fol. 38r (17 February 1434). 42 Foedera, vol. x, p. 574. 43 Foedera, vol. x, p. 580. 38

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Money transfer be paid in gold, silver or plate. On 24 August 1434, a new instalment was delivered in Calais by Jean de Vendôme and Blanchet d’Estouteville, who received a safe-conduct to leave the town.44 The same people were again in Calais on 9 October when they were provided with a new, and similar, safe-conduct, which was valid until 2 December.45 Problems appear to have arisen at that point since the next time we hear about these two men is in a safe-conduct to leave England on 26 October 1435. This noted that they had been held hostage for the payment of the vidame’s ransom.46 This final safe-conduct marked the end of this affair. In general, only the wealthiest French prisoners would cross the Channel. For the great majority of captives in the first half of the fifteenth century, the challenge consisted of transporting the money from French France to Anglo-Burgundian France, from one small place to another, both often isolated from the network of big trading and banking centres. The transfer from Anglo-Burgundian Amiens to French Beauvais, as in the case cited in the beginning of this chapter, is a good example. The two Burgundian prisoners, who had been temporarily released, charged Jean de Cayeu, a banker of Amiens, to transfer the 630 so, 10 gold nobles and 6 lp of their ransom to their masters in Beauvais. Cayeu sent the money by ‘cédule’ (which Bossuat interpreted as ‘lettres de change’ [bills of exchange]), since he believed this to be the easiest and safest way to transport money.47 The money eventually had to travel in specie as well. Cayeu’s convoy was intercepted by the bailli of Amiens, who confiscated the money. This was because he saw it as a case of giving intelligence to the enemy, an argument which, as we have seen, was eventually rejected by the court. Nevertheless, this case sheds light on the danger to which these transports of money in specie were exposed.48

44 TNA, C 76/116, m. 2. 45 Foedera, vol. x, p. 597. Charles VII’s grant of £166 (1,000 lt), on 22 September 1434, to his ‘chier et feal cousin, Jean de Vendôme, vidame de Chartres’, for his valiant services against the English, who had kept him prisoner for some time, and still did (‘et encores est’), and to aid him in paying his ransom, to be levied on the inhabitants of Poitou, may have helped to accelerate the process of payment. On the other hand, it is likely that the slow levy of this grant may have caused discrepancies. BL, Add. Ch. 3744. In this respect, three years later, on 4 May 1437, Charles VII gave an order to the president of his chamber of accounts to pay 1,000 lt to Vendôme to assist him in paying his expenses and ransom. This new grant is likely to have replaced the old one, of which Vendôme never saw a penny. BL, Add. Ch. 3805. 46 Foedera, vol. x, p. 624. 47 Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, p. 29. 48 Perhaps it is wiser to adopt a more neutral interpretation of the word cédule. It seems to be closer in this case to a simple recognisance of debt rather than a bill of exchange between enemy territories which exposed the prisoners and their connections to unscrupulous individuals, such as this bailli of Amiens.

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Merchants, banking and trade Money-le nding Loans were a significant step towards deeper involvement of the merchant community in the ransom business. Evidence of such money-lending at the top of the hierarchy is abundant. Recipients were dukes and counts. Examples include (the date of capture is given in brackets): Jean I, count of Armagnac (1333);49 Jean, count of Penthièvre (hostage, 1353);50 Robert, duke of Bar (1368);51 Jean, count of Nevers (1396);52 Jean, count of Angoulême (hostage, 1412);53 Charles, duke of Orléans (1415);54 and Jean, duke of Bourbon (1415).55 We can also find powerful lords, such as Jean (better known as Tristan) de Maignelais, échanson of France, standard-bearer of the duke of Normandy at Poitiers (1354, 1356);56 Walter Hungerford, son of Sir Walter Hungerford (1429);57 Sir Thomas Rempston (1429);58 Robert, Lord Moleyns (1453);59 and, finally, Olivier de Coëtivy, lord of Taillebourg and seneschal of Guyenne (1452).60 This suggests that the need for external funding, beyond the scope of friends and family, was necessary for such prominent figures. But did bankers only lend money to the rich, as the expression goes nowadays? This gallery of high-profile borrowers may be the result of the limited scope of surviving sources rather than a true picture of late medieval banking ethics. During the hearing of a legal case dating back to the late 1440s, a certain Walter Bernard described as a ‘riches home anglois’ (rich Englishman), claimed to ‘please Frenchmen on several occasions’ (fait plusieurs plaisirs aux Francois), and most recently in advancing 40 so and 20 eo, for the ransoms of Jean Martin and Pierre Guichard, two French prisoners in Avranches.61 The ‘pleasings’ dispensed by the Englishman were loans by a professional moneylender, no doubt charged at a high interest rate. The opportunity to charge interest rates on such loans was an incentive for merchants to become involved in the ransom business. Usury was forbidden. These interest rates were thus disguised as gifts. Lady 49 Barrois, ‘Jean Ier’. 50 Jones, ‘The Ransom of Jean de Bretagne’, pp. 280–2. 51 L. Mirot, ‘Études Lucquoises’, BEC, 89 (1928), 299–389, at p. 309. 52 Mirot, ‘Études Lucquoises’, p. 361. 53 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, pp. 61, 63. 54 P. Champion, Vie de Charles d’Orléans (Paris, 1911), pp. 162–3. 55 Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, pp. 48–9. 56 Anselme, Histoire, vol. viii, p. 539; Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 349; Poitiers, pp. 233–4. 57 POPC, vol. iv, pp. 149–50. 58 We will come back to his case later. 59 Somerset Medieval Wills 1383–1500, F. W. Weaver, ed. (London, 1901), p. 191; Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost’, p. 21. 60 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, pp. 27–9. 61 AN, X1a 4801, fol. 289v (12 June 1447).

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Money-lending Hungerford, for example, claimed to have paid about £945 ‘in gifts to divers noblemen, which were sureties for her upon borrowing money to pay the ransom [of her son, Robert, Lord Moleyns]’.62 Merchants also took sureties against possible bankruptcy of the prisoners. The 11,000 lt lent to Yolande of Flanders for the payment of the ransom of her son, Robert, duke of Bar, was secured by the surrender of precious items of jewellery. Merchants acted in this case like pawnbrokers, assuming, of course, that they charged an interest on the loan.63 This was common practice during the Hundred Years War, but there were other ways to guarantee a repayment.64 The £3,000 that Robert, Lord Moleyns had to borrow from Simone d’Antonio Mori, a Medici agent, in London for the second instalment of his ransom was doubly secured by recognisances of debt from six individuals, presumably his friends, and by the assurance that they would be repaid from his wife’s inheritance to save the sureties from harm.65 If the guarantees offered were not deemed appropriate, prisoners faced a rebuttal from the merchants, as was the case for the dukes of Bourbon and Orléans in 1417 and 1433 respectively.66 The merchants estimated in the latter case that Orléans’ lordship of Romorantin, which had been ravaged by war, was not a valuable enough surety for a loan of 78,000 eo. Why did London merchants lend £1,000 (or more) to Thomas Rempston?67 The knight’s financial difficulties are obvious in a petition addressed on his behalf to the king in parliament in October 1435. Half his ransom had already been paid, but he could not afford the other half, that is 9,000 eo, without royal support.68 The London merchants, according to Jim Bolton, may have been tempted by the security offered by promise of a royal gift of 1,000 marks to Rempston in the early summer of 1436.69 At the same time, however, Bolton points out that these merchants would have been added to the end of an already long list of Rempston’s creditors. It is possible that royal pressure played a role. Two of Rempston’s benefactors, the Londoners William Estfeld and Hugh 62 Dugdale, The Baronage, vol. ii, p. 209. 63 Mirot, ‘Études Lucquoises’, p. 309. 64 See also Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, p. 36. 65 Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost’, p. 19. Similar sureties (taken from the associates of the prisoner) were required from Rempston for a small loan of £180 in 1440. Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston Paid His Ransom’, p. 117. 66 Leguay, ‘Le problème des rançons’, p. 43; AN, J 919, no. 25, fol. 10–1; Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, p. 61. 67 For what follows, see Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston paid his Ransom’, p. 116. 68 PROME, vol. xi, pp. 179–80. 69 Bolton, ‘How Sir Thomas Rempston paid his Ransom’, p.  116; see also TNA, E 404/52/411 (30 June 1436).

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Merchants, banking and trade Dyke, had recently sealed a commercial deal with the crown. As staplers, they had lent 8,000 marks in return for a licence to sell their wool freely in Calais together with firm guarantees of repayment. According to Bolton, these were very generous terms in difficult times, since in 1435 the wool trade through Calais was at a standstill. Bolton wonders therefore whether the staplers’ loan to Rempston was imposed by the king as an extra favour. There is clear-cut evidence in 1406 of pressure from John the Fearless on merchants concerning the payment of his ransom from Nicopolis (1396).The duke warned Venetian merchants that he would not extend their safe-conducts to access Flemish ports unless they honoured their commitment.70 There may be more grounds for claims of royal pressure, since safe-conducts and the granting of licences to trade establish a close connection between ransoms and trading activities. Li ce nce s and saf e -conduct s to t rade Licences and safe-conducts to trade were essentially an outcome of the Anglo-French conflict. From an English perspective, merchants in English obedience needed a special licence to trade in enemy territory, while merchants coming from enemy territory needed a safe-conduct from the English crown to trade in England.71 There is nothing on the French side to compare with the Treaty (or French) and Gascon Rolls, which give plentiful evidence of such licences and safe-conducts issued by the English authorities.72 There is, however, every reason to believe that similar rules applied in France.73 Not surprisingly, the number of English grants of licences and safe-conducts increased sharply from 1449 onwards when the French began the reconquest of the duchies of Normandy and Gascony. From then on, French and English merchants needed licences and safe-conducts to maintain their trade. Prisoners were frequent recipients of licences in the Treaty Rolls. I have counted no fewer than 132 Mirot, ‘Études Lucquoises’, p. 334. 71 See the introduction of The Great Red Book of Bristol: A Collection of Deeds, Wills and Other Documents, from 1240 onwards, enrolled by the mayor of Bristol, E. W. W. Veale, ed., 4 vols. (Bristol 1931–53), vol. ii, pp. 5–8. 72 On the Treaty Rolls, see note 35. The Gascon Rolls during the period of the Hundred Years War (C 61/48–132) are being calendared and put online by a team working on the ‘Gascon Rolls Project (1317–1468)’, run jointly by the University of Oxford, the University of Liverpool and King’s College London. 73 Once they entered the Gironde, for example, the English merchants who intended to buy wine in Bordeaux would ask the admiral of France or his lieutenant to deliver safe-conducts to them. M. K. James, Studies in the Medieval Wine Trade (Oxford, 1971), pp.  43–4. There is further evidence of the role of the admiral of France and the general lieutenant of Normandy as issuers of safe-conducts to merchants. BL, Add. Ms. 11509, fol. 52r–53r;TNA, C 47/30/10/8 (1451); BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 166 (1454). 70

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Licences and safe-conducts to trade licences and safe-conducts which were granted over eleven years between 1449 and 1460 to, or at the request of, prisoners who could reasonably be considered as combatants in previous years.74 This number of prisoners, mainly Englishmen, reflects the intense military activity and the level of French success in these last years of the Hundred Years War. But why should so many of these prisoners be granted licences and safe-conducts to trade? Apart from two collective grants, these 132 documents concern sixty-six prisoners. A handful of prisoners received several grants. For instance, there are up to seventeen for William Neville, Lord Fauconberg.75 Almost all the prisoners (fifty-eight out of the sixty-six) were subjects in English obedience. Fifteen can be identified as Gascon lords  – the last devotees of the English crown who were rewarded for their loyalty.76 Recipients included prominent figures of high standing such as John Butler, future earl of Ormond; William Neville, Lord Fauconberg; John,Viscount Beaumont; Jean de Foix, earl of Kendal; Bertrand, lord of Montferrand; and Pierre de Montferrand, known as Soudan de la Trau, lord of Lesparre.77 They also included renowned commanders, such as Thomas Lord Scales and Sir Thomas Kyriel (a future MP),78 as well as experienced captains such as Bertram Entwistle, baron of Briquebec;79 Henry Norbury (a future MP); Thomas Kirkeby;80 and Oliver Batrisby (or Kathersby).81 In around twelve cases we also know the ransom levels of the prisoners who were granted licences. These range from £66 TNA, C 76/133–143 have been systematically surveyed. I also gathered information from the Gascon Rolls (C 61), Chancery Warrants (C 81) and material published in The Great Red Book. The number of unidentified or non-combatant prisoners who appeared in these grants is far greater. It must also be noted that the proportion of prisoners of war included in the Treaty Rolls before 1449 is much lower. 75 TNA, C 61/140, m. 1; 76/133, m.5; 134, m. 6, 13; 135, m. 3 (two entries), 10, 12 (two entries), 14; 136, m. 5; 137, m. 2; 138, m. 34 (August 1451 to August 1456). 76 TNA C 61/143, m. 7, 8, 12, 15; C 76/134, m. 5; 137, m. 10; 138, m. 1, 5 (three entries), 6, 9, 17, 27; 139, m. 10, 15, 19. See also TNA, C 81/1546/123; E 404/67/18; The Great Red Book, pp. 32–5, 38–9, 44–5. This evidence could fuel the debate about the Gascon nobility and the problem of allegiance raised by Vale, English Gascony, pp. 154–215. 77 A. J. Pollard, ‘Neville, William, Earl of Kent (1401?–1463), Soldier and Baron’; J. Watts, ‘Beaumont, Joehn, First Viscount Beaumont (1409?–1460), Magnate and Courtier’ in ODNB. On Foix and the Montferrands, see Vale, English Gascony, pp. 24, 49, 64, 98, 105, 116, 133–5, 142–4, 174–9, 186, 191, 204, 207, 221; R. Harris, Valois Guyenne: A Study of Politics, Government, and Society in Late Medieval France (London, 1994), pp. 27, 53–4, 50, 62, 104–5, 123, 154–6, 167, 185–6. 78 For these two commanders, see H. Castor, ‘Scales, Thomas, Seventh Baron Scales (1399?–1460)’ and A. Curry, ‘Kyriell, Sir Thomas (1396–1461), Soldier’, in ODNB. 79 Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, pp. 66–9. 80 AN, Coll. Lenoir, 3/370 (26 June 1423); BnF, Ms. Fr. 25771, no. 818 (1434); TNA C 76/119, m.1 (13 July 1437). 81 Triger, ‘Une forteresse du Maine’, p.  86. On problems caused by his ransom, see also TNA, C1/46/200. 74

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Merchants, banking and trade to £7,666 and therefore confirm the high profile of the recipients.82 Lesser men also appear in these records, such as three prisoners taken at Castillon in 1453, John Skydmore, John Rowryk and James Houy, who collectively asked the king for safe-conducts to be granted to French merchants in March 1455.83 Lower-status individuals had a tendency to present joint petitions. In July 1456, the same Skydmore appeared in another grant with two other men.84 The three men were acting on their own behalf and that of twenty other captives.85 The reason why so many prisoners of war received these licences and safe-conducts to trade at the end of the war is more complex than it may seem.  As we will see, these grants did not necessarily mean that the prisoners became involved in trading activities themselves. Prisoners may have coincidentally facilitated overseas trade. These licences and safe-conducts were not particularly easy to obtain.86 Merchants, as we have seen, also needed the consent of the authorities on both sides: a licence from their own king and a safe-conduct from the enemy. Prisoners of war, to their advantage, had connections on both sides of the Channel. The prospect of arranging a good deal with a captive must have been a strong incentive to his masters to help him out by, for instance, obtaining safe-conduct for him. The ransom agreement between Olivier de Coëtivy and his master, John II Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury (following the death of his father who had taken Coëtivy prisoner in Bordeaux in 1452), anticipated that the parties would make ‘real efforts’ to obtain from their respective sovereigns safe-conducts for two ships of 200–300 tons and for all sorts of commodities to be traded.87 A prisoner who already disposed of a safe-conduct from the enemy may have had a better chance of obtaining a licence from his own king. Edmond White, who asked for a licence to trade from Henry IV in 1407, brought to the king’s attention that he had already obtained safe-conducts from Charles VI.88 There is evidence that William 82 Jean de Foix, earl of Kendal, £7,666 or 46,000 eo (Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, pp. 23–6); Thomas, baron of Scales, 35,000 so (TNA, C 76/140, m. 30); John Ormond: £2,500 (BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 166); Olivier de Coëtivy, about 6,000 gold nobles (Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, p. 11); Guillaume Cousinot, more than 9,000 lt (BL, Add. Ch. 4076–83); Georges Swylyngdon (Swillington), £1,000 (C 76/134, m. 4); John Clyfton, 4,000 lt (C 76/136, m. 9; Beauchesne, ‘Jean des Vaux’, p. 238); Bertram Entwistle: 3,000 so (C 76/128, m. 13); Elias Langworth, more than £426 (C 76/133, m. 13); Jean de Lalande, seigneur de La Brède: £333 (C 76/140, m. 10); Thomas Kirkeby, more than £200 (C 76/139, m. 26); Pierre-Arnaud de St. Cricq, £90 (C 76/134, m. 5); Richard Hale: £66 (C 76/141, m. 27). 83 TNA, C 1/17/162; C 76/137, m. 13 (25/03/1455). 84 TNA, C 76/138, m. 5 (30 July 1456). 85 For group petitions, see also TNA, C 61/140, m. 7 (John Day, John Bulle, Thomas Pyke  – 22 January 1453). 86 James, Studies in the Medieval Wine Trade, p. 44. 87 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, p. 13. 88 TNA, SC 8/147/7312 (1407).

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Licences and safe-conducts to trade Neville showed the safe-conduct he received from the admiral of France to the English chancery, since the latter preserved a copy. The document was fully transcribed in the Treaty Rolls within the text of the licences to trade which Neville was subsequently granted by Henry VI in 1451.89 What these prisoners actually did with such grants is not straightforward. For Eileen Power, the grantees of licences to export wool to places other than Calais played little part in this overseas trade.90 Her assumption was based on the fact that these transactions were usually taxed at alien rate (that is, the higher rate that was paid by alien merchants as opposed to the denizen rate). From this, she deduced that it was not the English recipient of the grant – i.e. the prisoner – who was the exporter but his alien ‘factors’ to whom the licence had been sold. Following Power’s logic, royal grants of licences were an act of generosity toward prisoners, which had the added advantage for the king of not having to dip into his own coffers. Power’s argument on the alien rate applies to only three licences given to prisoners, which authorised the recipients to trade wool ‘ultra montana’ (beyond the mountains) to Italy or to the straits of Gibraltar.91 Nevertheless, this idea, according to which licences were sold by the prisoners, deserves closer attention. Our corpus of forty licences concerned the smaller-scale trade of all sorts of commodities with France, involving English and French intermediaries rather than Italian merchants. This does not exclude the possibility, however, that many prisoners may have decided to sell these licences to merchants and to pocket the money. Indeed, the licences represented a significant amount of money. Take, for example, the most generous grant made by Henry VI to Jean de Foix, which allowed him or his ‘deputatos, factores sive attornatos’ (deputies, factors or attorneys) to ship 2,000 sacks of wool wherever he pleased in December 1460, custom free.92 The tax on wool amounted at that juncture to 33s 4d per sack at denizen rate.The recipient of this licence would thus escape the payment of nothing less than £4,000 of trade taxes. Many merchants would surely be prepared to pay dearly for the benefit of such a licence.93 For Postan, these individuals vaguely referred to as deputies, factors and attorneys TNA, C 47/30/10/8; C 76/133, m. 5 (13 August 1451). 90 E. Power, ‘The Wool Trade in the Fifteenth Century’, in M. M. Postan and E. Power, eds., Studies in English Trade in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1933), pp. 39–90, 356–72, at pp. 47–8. 91 TNA E 404/71/2/36 (26 November 1457); C 76/140, m. 10 (10 July 1458); C 76/134, m. 2 (23 June 1452). 92 TNA, C 76/143, m. 8 (7 December 1460). 93 These types of licences were particularly rare since they conflicted with the interests of the staplers of Calais who had a monopoly on the commerce of wool. For an earlier example of a prisoner who had to hand back his licence after it emerged that it was damaging the interests of the Calais Staplers, see TNA, E 404/61/237 (14 June 1445). See also W. I. Haward, ‘The Financial 89

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Merchants, banking and trade of the grantee were none other than merchants to whom the recipient had sold his licence. The fact that the licence of Jean de Foix concerned the trade of indigenous and alien wool as well as wool coming from his own estate leaves no doubt that Foix intended to make personal use of it, or at least part of it. Some of the deputies, factors or attorneys in this case must therefore have been real deputies or servants of the count who traded on his behalf. Unfortunately, the other licences only rarely allow the reader to see through this issue and to determine who might actually use the licence. The level of tax avoidance was not so advantageous in many other licences.94 In fact, the majority of licences were not custom free.95 There is still reason to believe that merchants would be prepared to pay a good price for these royal authorisations. These documents, as we have said, were not easy to obtain. It could be argued that the English king encouraged merchants to petition through prisoners of war as a way by which the crown could help the latter pay their ransoms. This is not far from Bolton’s hypothesis of a forced loan. Furthermore, it must be noted that these authorisations were costly, whatever their content. A two-month-long safe-conduct in 1433 to trade between French and English-obedient territory in western France cost 17 eo.96 This illustrates the very high price that the most basic overseas licences or safe-conducts to trade, valid for a year, might reach, a price that many a prisoner would be happy to sell on. In 1458, Coëtivy instructed one of his servants,Yvon de Caradenec, to collect 40 English nobles from William Baldry, a merchant of Ipswich, as part payment for a safe-conduct from the Spanish king given to him in Bordeaux.97 I have not found any evidence to prove that the prisoners used these royal grants as a way of securing advantageous loans from the merchants to whom they were prepared to sell these authorisations, but such behaviour is not unlikely. However, some evidence indicates that prisoners and merchants sometimes came to a proper business partnership. The French safe-conduct granted to Edmund White clearly states that the profits from trade would be used for the payment of his ransom.98 In 1436, Thomas Transactions between the Lancastrian Government and the Merchants of the Staple from 1449 to 1461’, in Studies in English Trade, pp. 293–321, at pp. 294–5. 94 Jean de la Mote was expected to make only £12 out of the customs on the 100 pieces of tin he was allowed to trade. TNA, C 76/133, m. 13 (7 September 1450). 95 TNA, C 47/30/10/8; C 61/140, m. 1, 7; 142, m. 3; C 76/127, m. 9; 133, m. 10; 133, m. 5, 13; 134, m. 2, 5, 8; 135, m. 12; 136, m. 6; 137, m. 2, 11; 138, m. 4, 5, 21, 34; 139, m. 4, 11, 18, 24; 140, m. 1, 30; 141, m. 32; The Great Red Book, pp. 28–9; CPR 1446–52, p. 305. 96 AN, KK 324, fol. 3vo. (October 1433). 97 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, p. 28. 98 TNA, SC 8/147/7312.

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Merchant-prisoners Wylby was allowed to buy 100,000 tiles (called ‘sclat’) in Devon and take them to the abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel in Normandy in satisfaction of the ransom of William Jacob of Southampton, prisoner in the abbey.99 The admiral of France specified in his safe-conduct to Robert Don and William Brereton in 1451 that the profits from their trading activities on French soil would pay for their own debts as well as for the ransom of William Neville, Lord Fauconberg.100 Merchant involvement would not, in any case, be gratuitous, as the following legal case shows.101 Stephen Bekks and John Holme, two Englishmen, had been captured in Gascony and put to ransom together at £30. John Fylson, a fishmonger from London, and his associate, John Bysshop, agreed with the two prisoners to pay their masters in clothing. Once the transaction was complete and the prisoners liberated, the two merchants claimed the £30 for the prisoners who defaulted. Further observations support the existence of partnerships. The fact that all the details about merchants, crew, merchandise and ships that we find in the safe-conducts in the Treaty rolls can also be found in some surviving petitions to the English crown, demonstrates that prisoners and merchants had come to an agreement before petitioning the authorities.102 And the fact that most of these merchants and their ships were from Normandy or Gascony (together with some from northern Spain), suggests that these negotiations between the two parties took place in France, Normandy or Gascony, where the prisoners had been captured. French merchants must have contacted English prisoners in their prison and made a pact with them involving the obtaining of licences and safeconducts to trade. Whatever the nature of the deal, it must have been profitable for the merchants, since we can see some of them appearing in several safe-conducts requested by different prisoners. The Norman merchant, Jean Byset, for instance, dealt with five different English and French prisoners between 1455 and 1459.103 Me rchant-p ris one r s Some prisoners made use of licences and safe-conducts to involve themselves, either personally or through deputies, in trading activities, thereby assuming the role of merchants and playing an integral part in CPR 1429–36, p. 512 (1 May 1436). For another example, see TNA, C 1/1494/14. TNA, C 47/30/10/8; C 76/133, m. 5. 101 TNA, C 1/26/585. 102 TNA, C 81/1546/79, 105, 143; SC 8/147/7312. 103 TNA, C 76/137, m.4, m. 13, m. 19; 138, m. 3, m. 25; 141, m. 23.   99 100

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Merchants, banking and trade sales and purchases of commodities. This extended form of involvement in trading activities as a way of raising ransom money was probably quite common, although its scale is difficult to establish. Some prisoners obtained release through the delivery or sales to the enemy of food, wine, clothes and military equipment.104 This commerce with the enemy was, in theory, illicit. Prisoners caught in such activities faced imprisonment unless they had received special licence from the authorities in the first place. It is mainly through royal letters of pardon to prisoners that we hear about these activities. These letters, which reiterated the prisoner’s own testimony as put forward by petition, commonly minimised the prisoner’s fault whilst highlighting how circumstances had forced them. We read, for instance, in the letter of remission granted by Charles V to Béraud de Taillat, lord of Apchier, in 1377, that his English masters at Carlat had obliged him, amongst other things, to sell them horses and other commodities, a condition with which he complied in order to avoid the destruction of his lands.105 About half a century later, a twenty-six-year-old esquire, Jean de Saint-Denis, claimed to have been taken prisoner twice by brigands living nearby.106 The first time, his captors asked him for woollen clothes, but as he could not pay for these, he told his captors where they could steal them in Bec-Hellouin. The second time, he was forced to supply the brigands with food. For these reasons he was afraid he would be arrested in Harcourt and so took to flight. Later, he sought a pardon from Henry VI through his friends and relatives, obtaining this in December 1424. Assessing such testimonies is problematic. It is impossible to say whether these men had actually been forced to trade with the enemy, or to know the true extent of trade with the enemy, but what is certain is that they, and possibly many others, sold or gave various commodities to the enemy as the price of their freedom.107 Several individuals asked for the king’s consent before embarking on trade with the enemy, as numerous entries in the Treaty Rolls indicate. In some rare cases, these records reveal the direct involvement of prisoners and their associates in trade.Two safe-conducts granted to John Ormond and Robert Stowel, for example, specified that their friends and relatives 104 For ransoms paid in pipes of wine see AN, X1a 19, fol. 425 (26 April 1371); AN, X1a 22, fol. 235v (12 September 1371); published in Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 339–40, 360–1. 105 AN, JJ 111, no. 121; published in E. Rosach, A. Molinier et al., Nouvelle histoire générale de Languedoc, 16 vols. (Toulouse, 1874–1904); reprint: Osnabrück 1973, vol. x, col. 1594–6, no. 629 (July 1377). 106 AN, JJ 173, no. 38 (December 1424). 107 For other examples, see also RDP, vol. iv, pp. 294–6, no. 557 (March 1372 or 1373); AN, JJ 104, no. 105, fol. 55; published in Documents inédits pour servir à l’histoire du Maine au XIVe siècle, B. de Broussillon, ed. (Le Mans, 1905), no. 191.

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Merchant-prisoners had lent various commodities for them to trade.108 A licence to trade, described in a letter of remission granted to Sauvage de Brinvilliers in March 1360, authorised the French esquire to deliver ‘certains vivres’ (food) to the enemy as a way of regaining his freedom.109 In 1381, John, Lord Neville, petitioned the English government for the delivery of a safe-conduct to his prisoner, Gaucher de Châtillon, so that the latter and his sailors could deliver wine or salt to pay his ransom.110 In June 1425, Jeanne de Chasteignier, wife of Jean de Varèze, lord of Château-Tizon, chamberlain of the king, who had been taken prisoner at Verneuil, was granted a licence – of which a vidimus has survived – to ‘mener, conduire, arenrer et discharger, vendre ou eschanger’ (take, drive, load and unload, sell or exchange), everywhere within the kingdom of France and beyond for the next two years, 400 tons of wheat, 300 tons of wine, grown on her lands, and 800 muids of salt, without paying any custom on these commodities.111 In 1432, John Talbot was authorised in a letter patent of Henry VI to export the salt which the duke of Brittany had offered him wherever he wished as a way of helping him pay his ransom.112 Finally, we read in another of these letters that Thomas Longe and Thomas Spore, captured by the French and taken to Dieppe in the late 1440s, took advantage of their release on parole to come to England, to buy cloth to the value of £50 and to obtain a licence from Henry VI to export it for the payment of their ransom.113 Prisoners who had been provided with special licences of this type were not necessarily guaranteed that the king’s will would be observed. These royal authorisations to trade with the enemy sometimes raised suspicion among zealous or unscrupulous officers of the crown. In October 1441, Pierre de Martigny, provost of the marshals of France, received a licence from Charles VII to carry 240 queues of wine, duty-free, from French Paris to English Rouen.114 Some crown officers at the bridge of Melun, however, refused to let him cross without paying the duty. Martigny then appealed to the provost of Paris, who ordered these officers to obey the king’s orders.They seem to have done so since we read in a quittance sealed by Martigny, which is the source for this case, that 106 A similar formula is to be found in their two safe-conducts: ‘nisi per consanguineos et amicos suos qui bona et mercandisas sibi ex hac causa dare tradere et mutuare volunt’ and ‘nisi per consanguineos et amicos suos qui pannos et alias mercandisas sibi ex hac causa tradere et mutuare volunt.’ TNA, C 76/134, m. 2 (23 June 1452); 136, m. 6 (4 December 1453). 109 AN, JJ 90, fol. 237v–238, no. 474 (March 1360). 110 TNA, SC 8/129/6407 (1381). 111 BNF, PO 2928,Varèze, no. 4 (24 June 1425). 112 CPR 1429–36, p. 211 (8 July 1432). 113 CPR 1446–52, p. 305 (18 October 1449). 114 BNF, PO 1870, Martigny, no. 3 (29 August 1443). 108

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Merchants, banking and trade queues of wine had eventually crossed the bridge duty-free.115 We learn in an (undated) enquiry that John Ormond had chartered and sent to Normandy in April 1454 two of his own ships with wool and other commodities for the payment of his ransom.116 On their return to England, the ships were intercepted by Spanish vessels and robbed of their wine, which was estimated by Ormond as being worth 6,000 eo. These cases, as well as royal licences and pardons, demonstrate the significant role which trade had in fund-raising. If private archives had survived in greater number they would have provided further evidence of this immersion in trade, as we can see in the two cases that follow. The first was brought before the Parlement of Paris in 1367.117 Thomas Staffort had been taken prisoner in the Beauvaisis in 1359. Unable to pay his ransom, he went to Creil since he expected to find Englishmen there who would lend him money for his ransom. He later claimed he had raised funds there that allowed him to take up trading activity. He was so successful that he eventually decided not to rearm and established himself in the Beauvaisis as a merchant. It was in these circumstances that he met a French esquire, Jean de Camprémy, who had been taken prisoner by the English. He agreed to act as pledge for the payment of Camprémy’s ransom. He provided the prisoner with safe-conducts and even sold him horses and various commodities as an encouragement to follow his example.The French esquire proved to be as successful a trader as Staffort. His business was said to be thriving by the time of the trial in 1367, but he was accused of not honouring his debt towards Staffort, claiming in defence that the commodities which Staffort had sold to him had been plundered. The second case, drawn from the papers of the Coëtivy family, hints at the great potential of private archives. Olivier de Coëtivy, prisoner of the 2nd earl of Shrewsbury in October 1452, appointed his trusted servant, Yvon de Caradenec, to deal with his business in England.118 Amongst other things, Caradenec was expected to obtain a quittance from Shrewsbury for just under 800 nobles.This was the price at which Coëtivy had sold 71 tons and 3 ‘barriques (tuns)’ of wine to three Englishmen, who had shipped them to England on Shrewsbury’s account. Caradenec was also charged to find out whether the wine that Coëtivy had shipped to England in 1457 had been sold and, if so, how much it had raised. If anything had been left unsold, Caradenec was to do his best to sell it. 115 BnF, PO 1870, Martigny, no. 4 (1443). 116 BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 166 (1454). 117 AN, X1a 19, fol. 212, as cited in Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 368–74 (21 August 1367). 118 Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, pp. 28–9.

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Conclusion Finally, he was to enquire about another shipment of wine in the charge of Coëtivy’s herald. Shrewsbury was as much involved in trade as his prisoner. Indeed, the large quantity of wine bought by and delivered to him was not for the sole purpose of personal consumption: these 71 tons were only the latest import to date. In August 1455, Shrewsbury had sent a letter to Coëtivy asking him to pay to his servant in Bordeaux 1,000 eo to be converted into wine.119 In April 1456, the earl sent another ship to Bordeaux, which was expected to return loaded with wine and other commodities.120 Conclusion The absence of an officially organised system for the payment of ransoms and for the fund-raising process raised obstacles for prisoners and their associates, who often found themselves in an uncomfortable position in enemy territory. Interactions between the worlds of prisoners and of merchant-bankers can be seen from this perspective. They were essential to prisoners as a means of fulfilling the terms of ransom contracts. Money-changing, money transfer, and, to a lesser extent, money-lending, were transactions which could not be avoided. The greatest difficulty was that these operations often involved a material flow of specie and other precious items, such as jewellery and plate, which were provided as security as well as payment. The system of bills of exchange was used in some ransom businesses, but the relative lack of surviving banking records prevents us reaching definitive conclusions on the extent of its use. At the very least, it could be said that the direct transfer of specie and the use of bills of exchange coexisted in ransom transactions, but both involved difficulties. Trade was a way of overcoming these problems. Lower-ranking prisoners could buy their freedom by handing over some commodities: there was no need of money exchange or money transfer and, in fact, no need of cash at all. Involvement in forms of trade where profits were made out of the sales of commodities was also an attractive option to prisoners. Sales, purchases and any other financial activities took place within a firmly established, and thus safer, trading network. A good example here is the wine trade between Aquitaine and England. Trade also generated ready cash, of which the nobility in that period were often short. This explains why they might need to surrender precious items in their possession or even to sell their estates. Those fortunate prisoners whose estates 119



Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, p. 23.   Marchegay, ‘La Rançon d’Olivier de Coëtivy’, pp. 26–7.

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Merchants, banking and trade produced marketable goods already enjoyed mercantile connections. All they had to do was increase the flow of commodities, which might be done through donations from friends or assistance from princes. Grants of licences and safe-conducts to trade had an advantage for the sovereign too since they enabled him to show his generosity without opening his purse. Trade therefore appears a very good solution for prisoners who needed to raise funds, so long as they had time for the sale and purchase of commodities to turn into profits. For many a prisoner, such as Guillaume de Cousinot, however, trade remained one option amongst many. Guillaume II Cousinot, lord of Montreuil, was a high-profile officer of the crown, counsellor of Charles VII, master of the requests of his household, and bailli of Rouen once the city was back in the French king’s control in 1449.121 He was also frequently entrusted with diplomatic missions. It was on his return from an embassy to Scotland in 1451 that he fell into the hands of Edmond, Lord Grey of Ruthin. The negotiations for his ransom had started by the end of 1452,122 but it was only towards the end of the next year that he was eventually released on parole, leaving his second cousin as a hostage. Then the painful raising of his ransom began.123 First, he parted with all kinds of valuables in his possession – jewels, vases, robes and silver plate – which he brought to his master.124 But this was not enough. Cousinot then approached the city of Rouen, which decided to give 1,000 lt to their bailli in May 1455. He also petitioned the king. Charles made a significant grant to his ambassador of 20,000 lt to be levied for the next three years on income from the royal gabelle (salt tax).125 Evidence of several quittances sealed by Cousinot between March 1458 and October 1459 indicate that this generous donation was particularly slow in bringing in cash.126 Perhaps it was for this reason that Charles VII promised another 3,000 lt in 1457 to be paid from his own coffers.127 Edmond Grey also contributed to the settlement of this affair as soon as Cousinot had been released on parole in 1455. He obtained from the English crown a safe-conduct for several French merchants, which authorised them to On him, see Cousinot, Chronique, pp. 22–33. Unless otherwise stated, the following comments are based on this biographical notice. 122 Three Frenchmen, including Gasse de L’Isle, father of Cousinot, received a safe-conduct valid for four months to come to England and negotiate the ransom of Cousinot. TNA, C 76/135, m. 12 (8 October 1452). 123 The exact amount of his ransom is unknown, but it must have been at the larger end of the scale. 124 TNA, C 76/136, m. 14, 15 (27 October 1453), m. 9 (13 March 1454), m. 3 (21 July 1454). 125 Archives de l’Eure, B 146; published in Cousinot, Chronique, pp. 76–80 (4 June 1455). 126 BL, Add. Ch. 4077–83. 127 Cousinot received 300 lt out of this grant on 8 August 1457. BL, Add. Ch. 4076. 121

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Conclusion trade between France and England for fifteen months.128 Henry VI, as we read in this document, had granted these safe-conducts ‘to make it easier’ for Grey to receive the money of Cousinot’s ransom. This is an excellent example of how several different methods were used, sometimes simultaneously, to raise funds to pay a ransom. It also reveals the importance of negotiation and the personal initiative of both the prisoner and his master.

 TNA, C 76/137, m. 19 (19 March 1455).

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Chapter 7

A s s is tanc e to pr iso n ers (I): Va s s als and subjects – the end of c u s tom ary ai ds?

The customary aids that concern us here are the financial dues or taxes which lords could levy on their subjects in case of emergency. There was some variation in the range of circumstances under which such aids were permitted, but four main cases persisted (‘aide aux quatre cas’): namely, (1) the ransom of the lord if he was captured; (2) the knighting of his eldest son; (3) the marriage of his eldest daughter; and (4) his departure on crusade. Advocates of the feudal paradigm consider these aids as ‘feudal’ in the sense that they were owed to lords by vassals by virtue of tenure of fiefs.1 Brown has established, however, that ‘there was no necessary connection between liability for the aids and the tenure of fiefs’.2 There is even good reason to suggest that the aids were more readily taken from non-fief-holding commoners – townspeople and countrymen who were in the lord’s dependence  – rather than from noble fief-holders.3 What best characterises the aids is their foundation in custom. Inconsistency in the way emergency was defined, as well as how aids were assessed and levied in the thirteenth century, suggests that the variety of incidence and imposition created diverse customs.4 The customary nature of the aids is further revealed through the common argument used by communities in opposing them – that they had never paid them before.5 If they had been levied consistently during the Hundred Years War, ransom aids could have spared nobles the considerable effort of having to raise funds from many different sources, as Guillaume Cousinot 1 F.-L. Ganshof, Feudalism, 3rd edn, P. Grierson, transl. (New York, 1996), p.  92; R. Boutruche, Seigneurie et féodalité: l’apogée (XIe–XIIIe siècles) (Paris, 1970), pp. 190–2. 2 E. A. R. Brown, Customary Aids and Royal Finance in Capetian France: The Marriage Aid of Philip the Fair (Cambridge, Mass., 1992), p. 7. 3 S. Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals:The Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford, 1994), pp. 10, 314–15. 4 On the multifarious aspect of customary aids, see Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, p. 313. 5 See, for instance, J. B. Henneman, Royal Taxation in Fourteenth Century France:The Development of War Financing, 1322–1356 (Princeton, NJ, 1971), pp. 90–7.

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Ransom aids and French princes had been forced to do.6 The sources, however, say so little about the enforcement of these aids below the level of princes that they are commonly acknowledged to have become obsolete by the later Middle Ages. In England, for instance, there is no evidence of the levy of ransom aid after the capture of Richard I (1192).7 Cap. 12 of the Magna Carta (1215) fixed the English king’s right to such aids, but this is the last known mention.8 Ransom aids seem to have had a longer life in France; or, at the very least, they have left more trace in the sources. This raises the question of whether the late Middle Ages saw the end of ransom aids or not. This chapter is focused on France. The first section investigates traces of princely and noble levies, discussing extensively the case of Jean de Chauvigny, lord of Blot and Viviers (Basse-Auvergne), which constitutes the only known example of the application of ransom aids outside the princely circle. The second section explores the hypothesis that ransom aids were assimilated within rapidly expanding French royal taxation. Rans om aids and F re nch p ri nc e s King John II’s capture at Poitiers in 1356 is the most obvious starting point for our investigation since it is well known that his ransom of 3 million eo was to be levied on his subjects, even if, at the end of the day, only half of this was actually paid to the English.9 John B. Henneman built a case around this ransom to demonstrate that ‘feudal aids’ were not the only or main motivation for subjects to support their sovereign.10 John’s ransom, therefore, needs to be re-examined in the light of new interpretations of customary aids. Let us first have a closer look at Henneman’s argument. The impetus for his enquiry was an attempt to explain why the French were far less reluctant to pay John’s ransom aid than they had been to pay previous levies for other ‘feudal’ cases: for instance, the knighting of Philip IV (1285), Philip V’s marriage of his daughter (1319), and Philip VI’s knighting of his son, the future John II (1332).11 Henneman found See pp. 182–3 (the case immediately precedes this introduction). Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, p. 366.  8 J. C. Holt, Magna Carta (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 218–22. For some suggestion of the levying of aids for the knighting of the English king’s eldest son and the marriage of his daughter in 1253, 1290 and 1346, see Harriss, King, Parliament, and Public Finances, pp. 410–16.  9 On practical and financial details concerning the levy and payment of the ransom, see Delachenal, Charles V, vol. ii, pp. 325–31; Broome, ‘The Ransom of John II’, pp. vii–xxvi. 10 J. B. Henneman, ‘The French Ransom Aids and Two Legal Traditions’, in Studia Gratiana post octava decreti saecularia, 15 (1972): Essays on Medieval Law and the Emergence of the European State in Honor of Gaines Post (Rome, 1972), pp. 615–29. 11 Henneman, ‘The French Ransom Aids’, pp. 618–19.  6  7

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects the explanation in the newly accepted principle of ‘evident necessity’, which was founded in Romano-canonical law. Nobles who had fiercely defended their privileges against any form of extraordinary taxation did not resist the payment of feudal aid, whilst other subjects who had taken a dim view of feudal aids were moved by the ‘evident necessity’ in which the crown had found itself by the capture of John.12 This interpretation raises two fundamental issues. First, as we have seen, these aids were not strictly feudal – it was non-nobles rather than nobles who were subjected to this tax – and therefore cannot be seen as fostering any particular relationship between the king and noble fief-holders. Second, the principle of urgent necessity was not alien to customary aids. On the contrary, twelfth- and thirteenth-century theorists had founded their own justification for it, so that the principle was intrinsic to customary aids.13 Henneman’s theory can therefore be challenged. The only legal foundation of ransom aid was to be found in custom, as the officers of the crown in charge of the levy were reminded by the king in 1360:14 Item. Que tout le pueple subbgect du roy y est tenu par la coustume général du royaume, qui est que, quant le roy fait son aisné fil chevalier ou marie sa fille, ou est prisonnier, les subgés doivent aide, et ce cas pareil et lieu quant saint Loys roy de France fut pris en Thunes et fut racheté de très grant raançon.15 Item. That all the people, subjects of the king are bound by virtue of the general custom of the kingdom, according to which, when the king knights his elder son, marries his daughter, or is prisoner, the subjects owe an aid, and this case is similar to that of Louis king of France when he was taken prisoner in Tunisia and his great ransom paid.

It can be argued, following Henneman, that the ‘case of emergency’, both as a legal principle and de facto, encouraged French subjects to pay their king more diligently than in the past. It was probably for the same reason that the duke of Burgundy did not meet any serious difficulties in levying on his subjects the 200,000 ducat ransom of his son, the future John the Fearless, who was captured at Nicopolis, in 1396.16 In this particular case, it was also the result of a propaganda campaign. Similarly, it could be argued that it was the fervour of his supporters that allowed the Henneman, ‘The French Ransom Aids’, pp. 628–9. 13 Brown, Customary Aids, pp. 36–49. 14 J. M. Richard, ‘Instructions données aux commissaires chargés de lever la rançon du roi Jean’, BEC, 36 (1875), 81–90, at p. 83. 15 The reference to the saint king seems to have been nothing else than a manoeuvre to arouse the generosity of his subjects, for it would seem that Louis IX’s ransom was paid with funds which had been deposited in the East alongside a small supplement squeezed from the Templars.W. C. Jordan, Louis IX and the Challenge of the Crusade: A Study in Rulership (Princeton, NJ, 1979), p. 103. 16 J. Delaville Le Roulx, La France en Orient au XIVe siècle: expéditions du maréchal Boucicaut (Paris, 1886), pp. 321–34. 12

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Jean de Chauvigny and his subjects claimant to the duchy of Brittany, Charles de Blois, to levy 100,000 eo on his subjects in 1357, despite the strong territorial presence of the rival Anglo-Montfortians.17 There is reason to believe, however, that the smooth enforcement of customary aids and the generous support of the subjects was not the rule. Jean I, count of Armagnac, was captured on two occasions: the first time at Ferrara in Italy in 1333 while he was serving the pope and the second at Launac in 1362 while he was fighting against his arch-rival Gaston Phoebus, count of Foix-Bearn.18 Following his first capture, the count obtained from his subjects a ‘double taille’ (double tallage) according to the custom. The theoretical value of this tax and the actual sum collected are unknown, but it could only have been worth a fraction of Armagnac’s 48,000 florin ransom. We know that it was thanks mainly to the support of King Philip VI and to heavy borrowing that the count eventually regained his freedom. After his second capture at Launac in 1362, Armagnac was simply forced to sell off part of his estate. This was not, however, for want of trying to tax his subjects. Again, the amount of money raised was far lower than his ransom (a huge 300,000 florins).This time the count also met strong resistance from his subjects. The estates of Rouergue agreed on a tax to be levied on his subjects only after their fourth meeting, while the payments agreed by the estates of Armagnac and Fezensac did not materialise until three years after they had been voted.19 Such resistance may have resulted from a genuine shortage of money. This argument was also put forward by Lyon in 1421. Urged by the duchess of Bourbon, the consuls of Lyon declared that they could not afford to spend any money on the ransom of her husband, Jean de Clermont, duke of Bourbon, captured at Agincourt in 1415, because of their great poverty and the need to repair the fortifications of the city.20 N oble levie s : Jean de Chauvigny and h i s sub j e c t s Even if subjects would not pay for the total ransom of a prisoner and were in general willing to provide only a small proportion of its value, The duke was captured at La Roche-Derrien in 1347 and ransomed for 700,000 florins in 1356. J. Kerhervé, ‘Taxation and Ducal Power in Late Medieval Brittany’, French History, 6 (1992), 1–23. 18 For what follows, see Barrois, ‘Jean Ier’. 19 Other aristocratic cases could be quoted here that highlight the modest contribution of their subjects. See, for instance, two ransom cases concerning the sons and heirs of two different counts of Neuchâtel, taking place over a fifty-year interval in 1362 and 1419. Bauer, ‘Au service de Bourgogne’, pp. 244–5; A.-L. Sans, ‘La Rançon de Montereau: comptes d’un voyage à Paris (1419– 1420)’, in A. Paravicini Bagliani, E. Pibiri and D. Reynard, eds., L’Itinéraire des seigneurs (XIVe–XVIe siècles) (Lausanne, 2003), pp. 103–21, at p. 111. 20 Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, p. 47. 17

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects this evidence suggests that customary aids were still current in the late Middle Ages in princely circles. It is usually believed, however, that noble levies had become obsolete, although there has been no general study on this important issue.21 I have found only one case of ransom aid levied by a nobleman during the Hundred Years War.22 It is known through the litigation which it triggered between the lord and his subjects, the former eventually bringing the case before the Parlement of Paris in 1416. The plaintiff, Jean de Chauvigny, lord of Blot, issuing from the high nobility of Basse-Auvergne, was opposed by the inhabitants of Blot and Viviers.23 The court heard their respective pleas on 18 February 1416. According to Chauvigny, the custom of Blot and Viviers anticipated that subjects were liable to their lord for aids in four cases: his ransom, his marriage, his knighting and the marriage of his son. Chauvigny claimed that both he and his predecessors had enjoyed and used this right in the past. It was the reason why, following his recent capture at Agincourt and the need to raise a large ransom, he had decided to levy a tax of 260 livres 21 See the remarks of Contamine, ‘Points de vue’, p. 268. 22 This case is drawn from the archives of the Parlement of Paris. AN, X1a 4791, fol. 189rvo; Philippe Contamine (‘Points de vue’, p. 267) first drew attention to it. I must emphasise that I have not proceeded to any systematic survey of the archives of the Parlement. Monique Bonnet (Centre d’Etude d’Histoire Juridique, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique), who has worked extensively with these archives when the Parlement of Paris was in exile in Poitiers, has not found any reference to legal cases involving ransom aids or any other aids. 23 Who was ‘Monseigneur de Chauvigny’ as he was referred to in the text? The only lords of Chauvigny that appear in the sources at that period were Guy II (1357–1422) and Guy III (d. 1483), lords of Chauvigny and Châteauroux, vicomtes de Brosse. This house of Chauvigny was established in Poitou and had nothing to do with the lords of Blot and Viviers. Blot is now Saint-Remy-de-Blot in Basse-Auvergne (département Puy-de-Dome, arrondissement Riom, canton Menat). I have not been able to identify Viviers with certainty. It is possibly Le Vivier near Argenton-sur-Creuse, but this is more than fifty miles away from Blot. More disturbingly, there is no such place as Chauvigny in Basse-Auvergne nowadays, but there is every reason to believe that Chauvigny is now called Chouvigny (département Allier, arrondissement Montlucon, canton Ebreuil), which is no more than five miles away from Blot and where the well-preserved remains of the castle of Chouvigny (built in the mid thirteenth century) still stand. Jean IV de Chauvigny, lord of Blot and Vivier, the son of Jean III and Catherine de Bressolles and grandson of Jean II de Chauvigny, was a member of duke of Bourbon’s chivalric order of the Écu d’Or. Jean IV married Dauphine de Bonnebauld in 1406. Their son Hugues de Chauvigny held the prestigious office of seneschal of Auvergne. J. J. Expilly, Dictionnaire géographique, historique et politique des Gaules et de la France, 6 vols. (Paris, 1762–70), vol.  i, p.  664. Surviving evidence shows that Jean IV held a prominent place in the Auvergnat nobility during his life. He witnessed the contracts of marriage of Georges de la Trémoïlle, baron of Sully and Craon, with Jeanne de Boulogne, countess of Boulogne and Auvergne, on 16 November 1416, and of Rodrigo de Villandrando with Marguerite, bâtarde of Bourbon, on 24 May 1433. Les La Trémoïlle pendant cinq siècles, L.-C. de La Trémoïlle, ed., 5 vols. (Nantes, 1890–6), vol. i, p. 159; Quichérat, Villandrando, p. 251. He was appointed as commissioner for the levy of the tax accorded to the king by the estates of Basse-Auvergne in 1436, 1439 and 1445. A. Thomas, Les États provinciaux de la France centrale sous Charles VII, 2 vols. (Paris, 1879), vol. i, pp. 89–90, 195, 199; vol. ii, pp. 219, 225. He had died by 1459 when Hugues de Chauvigny succeeded him to the lordship of Blot. Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. ii, p. 274.

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Jean de Chauvigny and his subjects on the inhabitants of Blot and Viviers.24 The latter protested on three different grounds. First, they claimed that they were poor people living on infertile soil, who had been imprisoned because of their incapacity to pay. Chauvigny denied this. Second, in the opinion of the inhabitants, there was no such custom as the lord alleged; therefore, they were not liable to pay aids in the four cases. If they had paid them in the past, it had been out of pure generosity (‘de courtoisie et de volenté’) or because they had been forced to do so.25 Finally, they challenged the very claim of their lord that he had been captured at Agincourt on the grounds that he was amongst the first to return home. Chauvigny responded in detail to this last point since it was an attack on his honour. He declared that he had fought at Agincourt in the company of the duke of Bourbon and had been captured by Bernard Duiguethen, esquire in the retinue of Humphrey, duke of Gloucester; that he was then taken to Calais, where his conditional release had been pledged by the dukes of Orléans and Bourbon; and that the bailli of Boulogne had paid his ransom. Such was the record of the first hearing in the Parlement. A second hearing was meant to take place on 22 July but there is no trace of it in the registers, nor is there any evidence of a sentence pronounced by the Parlement or of any agreement between the two parties. It is now impossible to verify the claims of the two parties. A few points, however, can be raised about the likelihood of Chauvigny’s capture and ransom. His name is not recorded in any chronicle, and there is no trace of his participation, death or capture at Agincourt in any other source known to us.26 There is no record either of any Bernard Duigethen, but Duigethen may well be a Gallicisation of ‘Sengleton’. Chauvigny’s captor may therefore have been Bernard Sengleton, who fought at Agincourt in the company of Robert Lacre, himself a retainee of the duke of Gloucester.27 Chauvigny’s subjects commented on his early return within one or two months after the battle, which, at first sight, is surprising. Evidence shows that many prisoners taken at Agincourt must have been released by December 1415, but these were the rather anonymous rank-and-file soldiers whose ransoms amounted to less than 100 lt on average.28 The majority of the higher-ranking captives were taken 24 ‘[E]t est chacun chief d’ostel l’un parmy l’autre a 30 sous’. AN, X1a 4791, fol. 189r. 25 AN, X1a 4791, fol. 189vo. 26 Ambühl, ‘The Prisoners of Agincourt’, pp.  122–47. See also R. de Belleval, Azincourt (Paris, 1865). 27 TNA, E 101/45/13 m. 4; BL, Harley 782, fol. 74. Bernard Syngiltoun, man-at-arms, also served with his own company in Gloucester’s army in 1417. TNA, E 101/51/2, m. 2. (from TSMLE). I would like to thank Professor Anne Curry for having drawn my attention to Bernard Sengleton. 28 Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, p. 777.

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects to England and set free within a year or two.29 We would expect such an important figure as Chauvigny to have shared the fate of the second group of captives.Yet he was not the only one to find a way out of prison relatively quickly.30 This might be explained by the exceptional circumstances of Agincourt where two French princes of the blood – the dukes of Orléans and Bourbon – had also fallen in the hands of the English.The vast financial resources of these princes offered a very safe guarantee for any master whose prisoner managed to obtain their agreement to act as pledge for conditional release, provided that Henry V did not veto their liberation on political grounds. According to Chauvigny, this was precisely what happened in his case.The quick and generous intervention of the bailli of Boulogne is a surprising but not improbable claim. Whether these claims were true or false is not the most important point. What really matters is the insight that they give us into noble levies in the beginning of the fifteenth century. We can be certain that Chauvigny asked for no more than 260 l from his subjects of Blot and Vivier since they did not challenge the amount. Chauvigny was a member of the high nobility who had probably been knighted by the time of Agincourt.31 Had he been properly identified by his master, there is good reason to believe that his ransom should have been counted in thousands rather than hundreds of (French) pounds.32 The 260 l may therefore have represented only a small fraction of the whole ransom. Before drawing any hasty conclusion here, we must remember that one important piece of the puzzle is missing: the subjects of the lordship of Chauvigny. Their absence from this legal case raises a crucial issue. Should we deduce that they had been taxed and had agreed to pay without resistance? There is no doubt that the lordship of Blot constituted an important part of Chauvigny’s estates, but we must still question what proportion of his subjects actually rebelled against the payment of this tax.33 This is a 29 Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 771–5. 30 The surviving accounts of the town of Boulogne for the years 1415 and 1416 give evidence of another prominent lord, Jacques de Harcourt, baron of Montgomery, who regained his (possibly temporary) freedom in November 1415. Registre des recettes et dépenses de la ville de Boulogne-sur-Mer, 1415–1416, E. Dupont, ed. (Boulogne-sur-Mer, 1882), p. 110. 31 There is evidence that he was a knight in September 1416. Les La Trémoïlle, vol.  i, p.  159. It is unlikely that he had been knighted between November 1415 and September 1416 as there was no major encounter with the enemy (on the eve of which esquires may have had the opportunity of being knighted), and this legal case suggests that his finances were not in good shape. 32 As we have seen, esquires and knights’ ransoms fluctuated between £50 and £500 (300 lt and 3,000 lt) at Poitiers. Poitiers, pp. 190–2. Given his record, Chauvigny’s ransom is more likely to be closer to the higher end of this scale. Some bonds of ransoms sealed at Calais in the aftermath of Agincourt show that a knight’s ransom could easily exceed 2,000 lt. Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, p. 780. 33 The significance of the lordship of Blot is highlighted by the fact that Chauvigny is most frequently presented in the sources as lord of Blot. See n. 21.

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Jean de Chauvigny and his subjects fundamental issue to which Albert Rigaudière does not attach enough significance in his interpretation of another legal suit between Robert de Balsac and his subjects, when the former attempted to levy an aid for the marriage of his daughter in the late fifteenth century.34 Rigaudière concluded that there had been an erosion of ‘feudal’ rights even though he acknowledged that 87 per cent of Balsac’s subjects had paid the tax without any protest.35 The proportion in Chauvigny’s case is not measurable since we do not know the relative size of the communities, but the absence of the inhabitants of Chauvigny in the case before the Parlement suggests that, at the very least, some of the subjects – and possibly a significant proportion – did pay their lord obediently. Customary aids had not yet become obsolete in 1415.This is seen through the grounds on which the subjects of Blot and Vivier battled against their lord. They argued that they were too poor to pay this tax – an argument which, in other circumstances, had inspired leniency from the king through the granting of exemptions.36 More importantly, the inhabitants seemed to have acknowledged that they had paid these aids in the past. Their claims that they had done so out of generosity, or because they were forced to, were a deliberate attempt to deny the foundation of the aids in custom, but thereby they indirectly recognised the existence of customary aids.This was a common battleground between lords and subjects. Balsac argued at length that his right to levy marriage aids was firmly rooted in custom. On the other hand, urged by the need to fill their coffers, French kings regularly conceded to their subjects that the tax levied on them would not create a precedent.37 Concessions by late Capetian and Valois kings seem to have been a key element of successful royal levies.38 Chauvigny’s blatant disregard of this tacit need for negotiation and the harsh treatment of his 34 A. Rigaudière, ‘Aide aux quatre cas, coutume, droit féodal et droit écrit: Robert de Balsac et ses hommes de Saint-Chamant (1487–1489)’, in J. Paviot and J.Verger, eds., Guerre, pouvoir et noblesse au moyen âge: mélanges en l’honneur de Philippe Contamine (Paris, 2000), pp. 605–18. 35 Rigaudière, ‘Aide aux quatre cas’, p. 611. 36 Henneman, The Development of War Financing, p. 312. 37 Rigaudière, ‘Aide aux quatre cas’, p. 609. ‘Pourvu qu’on le payât, il [the king] reconnaissait qu’on était en droit de ne pas le payer. Les principes féodaux étaient saufs, mais ils n’empêchaient pas les coffres royaux de se remplir.’ G. Dupont-Ferrier, Études sur les institutions financières de la France à la fin du moyen âge, 2 vols. (Paris, 1930–2), vol. ii, p. 33. 38 Compare the successful strategies of Philip IV, based on negotiations, with Philip VI’s failures to impose his will. See Brown, Customary Aids, pp. 187–218.The tax levied for the marriage of Isabella of France to Richard II, in 1396, is the last clause of a long ordinance in which the French king made multiple concessions to his subjects. M. Rey, Le Domaine du roi et les finances extraordinaires sous Charles VI, 1388–1413, 2 vols. (Paris, 1965), vol. i, pp. 326–7. See also J. B. Henneman, Royal Taxation in Fourteenth-Century France:The Captivity and Ransom of John II, 1356–1370 (Philadelphia, Pa., 1976), pp. 296–8; E. Brown, ‘Cessante Causa and the Taxes of the Last Capetians’, in Studia Gratiana (Post Scripta), pp. 565–87; Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, p. 317.

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects subjects may have been the origin of the latter’s rebellion,39 but other factors may also have contributed to it, such as the increasing burden of royal war taxation.40 Rans oms and royal taxati on s The convention that the king should live off his own domain remained powerful in the late Middle Ages, but the near-permanency of war and the pressing need for the defence of the kingdom contributed to the development and legitimisation of royal taxation in fourteenth-century France.41 By 1412, it was even possible for a royal official to declare ‘that the king can levy tailles and aides on his kingdom as an emperor, for its defence and guardianship; nor may any lord, whoever he be, levy anything without the king’s consent’.42 This obligation for a lord to consult the king before levying impositions on his subjects was a royal right to which reference can already be found in 1372.43 It was a powerful means by which the crown could interfere in the government of its feudatories. Charles VI gave his consent for the levy of an aid of 40,000 lp on Charles of Orléans’s subjects in 1412. This was a very modest sum, as Dupont-Ferrier noted, compared with the 210,000 eo that Orléans was bound to pay to the duke of Clarence.44 In 1447, Guy de Chauvigny was authorised by Charles VII to tax his subjects for the marriage of his brother, provided that he consulted and obtained the consent of the majority of his subjects beforehand.45 Such royal intervention was not aimed at undermining the lord’s authority or protecting the interests of his subjects. The purpose was far more pragmatic: keeping intact the financial capacity of the subjects of the realm on which, sooner or later, ‘[I]l a sur ses dis subgez imposé taille de 260 livres’, Chauvigny’s lawyer claimed. The subjects claimed to have been put in prison. AN, X1a 4791, fol. 189ro. 40 The duke of Berry summoned the estates of Auvergne on various occasions to obtain their consent for the levy of taxes. After his death in 1416, these taxes were granted to the dauphin Charles, future Charles VII. Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 21–2. 41 For general comments on the development of taxation, see, for instance, A. Rigaudière, ‘The Theory and Practice of Government in Western Europe in the Fourteenth Century’, in M. C. E. Jones, ed., New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. vi: c. 1300–c. 1415 (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 17–41. 42 This quotation is drawn from D. Potter, ‘The King and His Government under the Valois’, in D. Potter, ed., France in the Later Middle Ages, 1200–1500 (Oxford, 2002), p. 172. 43 Isambert, Recueil des anciennes lois françaises depuis l’an 420 jusqu’à la révolution de 1789, 29 vols. (Paris, 1821–33), vol. v, p. 372 (8 May 1372), vol. ix, p. 70 (2 November 1439); Dupont-Ferrier, Études sur les institutions, vol. ii, p. 41, n. 106. 44 Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, pp. 44, 56. 45 Archives Départementales de L’Indre, A1/11; quoted in E. Hubert, Inventaire-sommaire des archives départementales antérieures à MDCCXC. Indre: série A apanage du comté d’Artois, duché de Chateauroux (revised by M. du Pouget, 2009) (www.cyberindre.org/jahia/webdav/site/cyberindre/shared/ images/archives/UEO/FRAD036_serie_A_tt.htm; accessed 10 March 2011). 39

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Ransoms and royal taxations the crown might decide to draw.46 Seigneurial levies, from this perspective, potentially stood in the way of the sovereign.47 There is no evidence, however, that the king made sustained use of his right of interference in a deliberate attempt to provoke the disappearance of customary rights. If the evolution of royal taxation contributed to the slow withdrawal of seigneurial (ransom) levies, this development was unplanned and unforced. A few points need to be made here about the role of assemblies in the procedures of French royal taxation. French kings had to negotiate and make concessions to the representatives of regions and towns, gathered in assemblies (the estates general and provincial), in order to obtain consent for the levy of taxes.48 The apogee of the estates general is situated in the mid-fourteenth century, after the catastrophic losses of the first phase of the Hundred Years War when the crown badly needed their support. It was at this point that the estates obtained royal recognition of their prerogatives in financial matters, but this financial role was quickly endorsed by provincial estates which progressively became the principal interlocutors with the crown. In what ways might the development of royal taxation have eclipsed the levies of seigneurial aids? Antoine Thomas’s old but nonetheless illuminating study of the provincial estates of central France (Haut/ Bas Limousin and Haute/Basse-Auvergne) under Charles VII is a useful starting point.49 These estates were summoned on a regular basis to give consent to the levying of substantial taxes on the subjects of their regions. Until the 1440s, they also voted ‘frais oultre le principal’ (expenses on top of the main [tax]), which consisted of an additional sum covering various expenses relating to their own areas.50 Interestingly, these included financial contributions towards the ransoms of prisoners of war.51 Thomas found evidence for eighteen beneficiaries of such grants, thirteen of whom were local notables who were supported by representatives of their region. The most prominent figures were two 46 Dupont-Ferrier, Institutions, vol. ii, pp. 41–2. 47 The king complained in 1443 that Charles d’Armagnac taxed his subjects without his consent. Isambert, Recueil des anciennes lois, vol. ix, p. 142; Dupont-Ferrier, Études sur les institutions, vol. ii, p. 41, n. 106. 48 For the role of these assemblies in the fourteenth century, see the works of Henneman on taxation cited at the beginning of this chapter. For a general survey of their role under the reign of Charles VII, see J. Russell Major, Representative Institutions in Renaissance France, 1421–1559 (Westport, Conn., 1983), pp. 21–49. On the failure of the French to develop an adequate system of representation, see P. Lewis, ‘The Failure of the French Medieval Estates’, PP, 23 (1962), 3–34; reprinted in his Essays in Later Medieval French History (London, 1985), pp. 105–26. 49 Thomas, Les États provinciaux (see n. 23). 50 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 100–13. 51 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 142–3.

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects knights, Jean de Rochechouart, lord of Mortemart,52 and Jean Foucault, future lord of Saint-Germain-de-Beaupré.53 Both men were members of the high nobility of Haut-Limousin. Each received 200 livres from the estates of Haut-Limousin, in 1426 and (probably) 1428 respectively. The fact that, according to Thomas, the king did not initially interfere with the granting of these additional aids suggests that the nobleman, or someone on his behalf, took the initiative to expose his financial difficulties to the estates of his province. The estates would then decide whether they would support him and, if so, to what extent. If his request was successful, the aid would be levied in the region of the claimant. Interestingly, this presupposes that the method of levy through provincial estates replaced customary aids in those places where it was applied. It is not credible that the subjects of a local nobleman would pay twice for his ransom through both provincial and seigneurial levies. It must be highlighted, however, that these ransom grants made by estates were modest, ranging from 10 lt to 450 lt, with an average of 142 lt.54 Would any lord renounce levies on their subjects which could be more lucrative? Thomas found evidence of only thirteen cases concerning four different provincial estates over more than twenty years.55 The 52 The Rochechouart, lords of Mortemart (département Haute-Vienne, arrondissement Bellac, canton Mézières-sur-Issoire),Vivonne (département Vienne, arrondissement Poitiers, chef-lieu de canton) and Saint-Germain (département Vienne, arrondissement Montmorillon, canton Saint-Savin) were firmly planted in Haut-Limousin and Bas-Poitou. Jean I de Rochechouart, knight, had already been made prisoner at Agincourt. He was chamberlain of Dauphin Charles and then King Charles VII who appointed him as captain of Dorat in 1418 and governor of La Rochelle in 1426. Anselme, Histoire, vol. iv, p. 677. Mortemart was dead by April 1437. RDP, vol. vii, p. 372 n. The estates’ contributions followed a second capture at Verneuil in 1424. Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 243–4 (16 May 1426). 53 Jean Foucault is said to have been captured at Laval by John Talbot, according to a quittance given by his father Aubert Foucault, lord of Saint-Germain-Beaupré (département Creuse, arrondissement Gueret, canton La Souterraine) in, according to Thomas and Anselme, April 1426. Anselme, Histoire, vol. vii, p. 578; Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, p. 244. This date cannot be right for there is irrefutable evidence that the town capitulated on 13 March 1428. B. de Broussillon, La Maison de Laval, 1020–1605, étude historique, accompagnée du cartulaire de Laval et de Vitré, 5 vols. (Paris, 1895–1903), vol. iii, p. 72, no. 1206. Foucault was made captain of Lagny in 1429 and was again taken prisoner in 1430. This time, he fell into the hands of John Cressy who handed over his captive to the crown for nothing less than 2,000 so. BnF, PO 929, Cressy, no. 2 (8 April 1432). He remained captain of Lagny until at least September 1440. Gallia Regia, ou état des officiers royaux des bailliages et des sénéchaussées, de 1328 à 1515, G. Dupont-Ferrier, ed., 7 vols. (Paris, 1942–66), vol. iv, p. 120, no. 15315. He was part of the household of the duke of Orléans in the late 1440s and the 1450s and was apparently made podestat d’Asti. Champion, La Vie de Charles, pp. 268–72, 387, 402. A biography has been written on this knight which I have not been able to consult. Comte Foucault Du Daugnon, Recherches biographiques sur Jean Foucault, seigneur de Saint-Germain-Beaupré, maréchal de France, podestat d’Asti (Montluçon, 1897). 54 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 142–3. 55 The other studies on provincial estates I have consulted do not make any reference to these grants. However, I found some evidence concerning the Poitou which was overlooked by Tyrrell. The scattered nature of the sources, which are mainly individual quittances of payment, makes it very

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Ransoms and royal taxations grant made by the town of Bayeux to its Welsh captain, Matthew Gough, in June 1443, is the closest parallel to these provincial aids that I have come across outside central France.56 We must ask whether these provincial grants were only accessible to a limited number of individuals and to their entourages  – men who had the reins of power in their hands. Examples here are suggestive of this. Aubert de Foucault, father of Jean Foucault, represented the Haut-Limousin at the estates general of Bourges in February 1424.57 Robert de Coustave, lord of Bien-Assis,58 who benefited from a substantial grant of 300 livres towards the payment of his ransom in 1432, was the son of the governor of Clermont and was himself appointed on several occasions in the 1430s and 1440s to supervise the levy of aids in Basse-Auvergne.59 Finally, the esquire Jean de Montbrun, who received a modest sum of 40 l, in 1441, is likely to have been a relative of Pierre de Montbrun, who was bishop of Limoges in 1426.60 What might be called the ‘prisoners of Verneuil aid fund’ certainly distinguished itself by its scale. On 1 November 1424, the estates of Poitou, gathered in the presence of the dauphin (later crowned Charles VII), voted an aid of 50,000 lt. This was the province’s share of a tax recently granted to Charles by the estates general for the prosecution of peace.61 difficult to assess the extent of this practice as a whole. As is often the case, such practices which escaped the direct interference of the crown are only hinted at in the sources and do not easily lend themselves to interpretation. (Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques), Recherches sur les états généraux et les états provinciaux de la France médiévale (Paris, 1986). Aquitaine: G, Pépin, ‘The Parlement of Anglo-Saxon Aquitaine:The Three Estates of Aquitaine (Guyenne)’, NMS, 52 (2008), 131–63. Artois: C. Hirschauer, Les États d’Artois de leurs origines à l’occupation française, 1340–1640, 2 vols. (Paris/Brussels, 1923). Béarn: L. Cadier, Les États de Béarn depuis leurs origines jusqu’au commencement du XVIe siècle: étude sur l’histoire de l’administration d’un pays d’état (Paris, 1888). Brittany: P. S. Lewis, ‘Breton Estates’, in Essays in Later French Medieval History (London, 1985), pp. 127–38. Burgundy: J. Billioud, Les États de Bourgogne aux XIVe et XVe siècles (Dijon, 1922). Dauphiné: A. Dussert, Les États du Dauphiné aux XIVe et XVe siècles (Grenoble, 1915). Languedoc: H. Gilles, Les États de Languedoc au XVe siècle (Toulouse, 1965). Normandy: C. Robillard de Beaurepaire, Les États de Normandie sous le règne de Charles VII (Rouen, 1875); A Coville, Les États de Normandie: leurs origines et leur développement au XIVe siècle (Paris, 1894); H. Prentout, Les États provinciaux de Normandie, 2 vols. (Caen, 1925); Rowe, ‘The Estates of Normandy’, pp. 551–78. Poitou: J. Tyrrell, A History of the Estates of Poitou (The Hague and Paris, 1968). Velay: E. Delcambre, Contribution à l’histoire des états provinciaux: les états du Velay des origines à 1642 (Saint-Étienne, 1938). 56 We learn in the quittance of the captain, by which he acknowledged the receipt of 900 lt, that this sum had been donated by the ‘bourgois, manans et habitans’ of Bayeux to help him pay his ransom. It was raised as an additional sum above the 60,000 lt voted by the estates of Normandy. BnF, PO 1363, Goth, no. 25 (30 June 1443). 57 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, p. 87. 58 He appears as lord of Bien-Assis (near Clermont) in an act dated 14 December 1454. P.-F. Fournier and A.Vergnette, ‘Les Droits seigneuriaux à Aubière: recueil de documents concernant les contestations dont ils furent l’objet (1422–1789)’, Revue d’Auvergne, 42 (1928), 1–59. 59 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 90, 155, 172, 192–3. 60 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, pp. 311–12, vol. ii, p. 132. 61 Tyrrell, The Estates of Poitou, pp. 36, 39.

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects Over and above this aid they voted the substantial additional sum of 16,000 lt. Out of this, Tyrrell noted, various amounts were to be paid to a number of dignitaries. Among them was Hue de Saint-Mars, esquire of the king’s stable, who acknowledged the receipt of 100 lt (out of 300 lt) in August 1425.62 Saint-Mars specified in his quittance that the 16,000 lt had been allocated to ‘plusieurs seigneurs, barons, moy et autres pour paier noz finances et raencons aux Angloys de qui nouvellement avons estés prisonniers et pour autres causes’ (several lords, barons, myself and others to pay our finances and ransoms to the English by whom we had recently been taken prisoner, and for other causes). There is little doubt that all the prisoners to whom Saint-Mars referred were, like him, captured at Verneuil in August 1424.63 How much of the sum was actually intended for their assistance is unknown, but the contribution of the estates of Poitou did not end here. Another 10,000 lt was voted by them in November 1425. This time it appears that the whole amount was devoted to assist prisoners of war. This is suggested by the receipt of a substantial 2,000 lt towards the ransom of Guillaume de Torsay, lord of Melleran, who was prisoner in England when his wife, Jeanne d’Archiac, received the money on his behalf in February 1426.64 How can we explain the exceptional generosity of the estates of Poitou? The presence of the elder brother of Guillaume de Torsay as one of the royal officials appointed for the levy of the aid must be noted.65 Jean de Torsay, lord of Lezay,66 was a prominent figure of the Poitevin nobility as well as a high officer of the crown, being chamberlain of Charles VII, great master of the crossbowmen of France and seneschal of Poitou at the time.67 His very high status must have commanded respect, and may have carried substantial weight in the decisions taken by the estates. In addition, there is evidence that Torsay was strongly committed to the liberation of his younger brother. The modest 500 lt that the king granted him for this purpose in 1425 would not be sufficient in itself.68 Torsay’s intervention explains the large contribution of the estates 62 BnF, PO 2762, de Saint Mars, no. 5 (16 August 1425). 63 The capture of Saint-Mars at Verneuil is attested in Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 191. 64 BL, Add. Ch. 3583 (25 February 1426). 65 He was already present at the estates general of Languedoil held at Poitiers in October.‘Documents sur les états généraux de Poitiers de 1424 et 1425’, R. Lacour, ed., Archives Historiques du Poitou, 48 (1932), pp. 92, 112. 66 Lezay: département Deux-Sèvres, arrondissement Niort, canton Lezay. 67 On Torsay, see Anselme, Histoire, vol. viii, pp. 69–70; C. Bozzolo and H. Loyau, La Cour amoureuse dite de Charles VI: étude et édition critique des sources manuscrites  – armoiries et notices biographiques, 3 vols. (Paris, 1982–92), vol. i, p. 135. 68 On the grant, see Anselme, Histoire, vol. viii, p. 70. Torsay was involved in a project of exchange between his brother and Thomas of Arundel before he died in 1428. His will, drawn up in April 1427, anticipated that if this project failed Guillaume would receive 3,000 eo in compensation.This

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Ransoms and royal taxations towards the ransom of his brother. Whether Torsay was the originator of the whole levy is another matter.69 It must be noted that Hue de Saint-Mars, a loyal and proactive officer of the duke of Orléans, was established in Champagne and not in Poitou.70 The extra 26,000 lt levied in Poitou, therefore, was not intended to benefit that province alone.This also requires explanation. For A. Thomas and J. Tyrrell, the vote of the additional sums was essentially a provincial issue in which the king did not interfere until around 1440 when he took control of it.71 However, Charles VII’s presence during the assembly of the estates of Poitou may have influenced their vote and boosted their generosity. The quittance of Jeanne d’Archiac clearly states that the king intervened in the distribution of the second levy of 10,000 lt which was ‘ordonnée par notredit seigneur [Charles VII] diviser, deppartir et distribuer a pluseurs seigneurs, barons et autres’ (ordered by our said lord to be divided and distributed among several lords, barons and others).72 This may suggest that Charles even participated in the nomination of the prisoners to be assisted. Calls by the French crown for the population to support prisoners of war who were in difficulty were not uncommon.The case of Olivier du Guesclin, younger brother of the constable, is an early example of such a practice. Captured in the winter of 1378–9 and ransomed for a colossal 40,000 fo, he could not possibly afford to pay his ransom from revenues of his county of Longueville alone.73 Since the price of his liberty had probably been inflated by the prestige of his late brother, it would be fair to assume that he could also take advantage of the popularity of his brother to pay off his debt. This was what the government of Charles VI’s minority had in mind when it called on all the subjects of the realm, and especially those of Normandy, to help Du Guesclin clause gave rise to litigation between Torsay’s heir and Jeanne d’Archiac, wife of Guillaume, who was still in prison in 1436 when the parlement issued a decree in her favour. RDP, vol. viii, p. 371. 69 The vicomte of Thouars, who was then Pierre II d’Amboise (d. 1426), was also one of the royal officials. The chronicle of Basset and Hanson mentions his death at Verneuil. College of Arms, MS M9, fol. 54vo. This is incorrect, but it suggests that he participated in the battle. In that case, it would seem likely that he would encourage the estates to be generous towards the unfortunate prisoners. On the vicomte of Thouars, see G. Peyronnet, ‘Les Complots de Louis d’Amboise contre Charles VII (1428–1431): un aspect des rivalités entre lignages féodaux en France au temps de Jeanne d’Arc’, BEC, 142 (1984), 115–35. 70 On Hue de Saint-Mars, see Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel, pp. 495–7. 71 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. i, p. 106; Tyrrell, A History of the Estates of Poitou, p. 40. 72 BL, Add. Ch. 3583. 73 Longueville was a small county to the north-east of Rouen that stretched between the towns of Dieppe and Fécamp (which were not included). Letters, Orders and Musters, no. 940 and n. 1. For comparison, the more important county of Eu in the same region brought in an annual revenue of around 10,000 lt at the end of the fourteenth century. R. Ambühl, ‘Les Comtes d’Eu de la Maison d’Artois’, unpublished DEA thesis (Université Lille 3 Charles de Gaulles, 2003).

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects in 1381.74 They were not compelled to pay, but all those who promised to contribute and who then retracted were forced to honour their original word. An account of the vicomté of Pont-Authou, an administrative district in Upper Normandy, through which we know about this appeal for funds, shows that the area granted 330 lt towards the payment of Du Guesclin’s ransom. Subsequent appeals of the French king to the subjects of the realm concerned three high-status individuals: Raoul de Gaucourt, Etienne de Vignolles (better known as La Hire) and John Stuart Darnley, constable of the army of Scotland.75 Charles VII wrote letters to ‘plusieurs villes et pais de notre royaume’ (several towns and lands of our kingdom) in February 1442, urging them to make the greatest possible contribution towards the ransom of his loyal beloved counsellor and first chamberlain, Raoul de Gaucourt.76 The latter had been captured again by the English, this time while he was on his way to succour Harfleur in December 1440.77 The representatives of Saintonge and La Rochelle responded generously to the king’s call, offering to raise 2,000 lt in their area in August 1442.78 Further evidence shows that Gaucourt received, all in all, slightly less than 6,000 lt from the Limousin, Poitou and Auvergne between September 1441 and September 1443.79 Earlier appeals on behalf of La Hire and Darnley were less flexible. In both instances, the king left the city of Lyon with no choice as to the amount of the contribution. In 1427, the king enjoined the city’s inhabitants to fulfil the financial need of Darnley who needed to clear his debt before returning to Scotland.80 This came on top of a modest 500 lt that the king ordered to be levied in Saintonge in 1425.81 Five years later, Charles VII ordered This appeal is known through a letter of the king to the bailli of Rouen which was transcribed in a surviving account of the vicomté of Pont-Authou, preserved in Paris (AN, KK 327) and published by P. Le Cacheux,‘Compte de la vicomté de Pont-Authou pour la rançon d’Olivier Du Guesclin’, Mélanges publiés par la Société de l’Histoire de la Normandie, 6th series (1906), 307–30. The account itself is not dated. Le Cacheux discarded the date 1387 provided in the archival inventories, assuming that it must have been drawn not long after Du Guesclin gave power of attorney to Jean de Wys to raise the money on his behalf, in December 1381. 75 There is no room here to detail the record of these two prominent individuals. On La Hire, see A. Ledieu, Esquisses militaires de la guerre de cent ans, La Hire et Xaintrailles – Les Flavy (Paris, 1887); P. Cuzacq, ‘Un célèbre capitaine landais, Etienne de Vignolles dit La Hire’, Bulletin de la Société des Sciences de Bayonne, (1901), 93–112, 119–26. On Raoul de Gaucourt, see Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel, pp. 253–6. Bozzolo, Cour amoureuse, vol. i, p. 141, no. 204b. 76 BnF, PO 1292, Gaucourt, 46 (4 February 1442). 77 BL, Add. Ch. 1488 (12 October 1440). 78 BnF, PO 1292, Gaucourt, no. 49 (14 August 1442). 79 BnF, PO 1292, Gaucourt, no. 50–6. 80 L. Caillet, Études sur les relations de la commune de Lyon avec Charles VII et Louis XI (Paris, 1909), pp. 85–6 (24 January 1427). 81 BL, Add. Ch. 3588 (26 November 1425). 74

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Ransoms and royal taxations Lyon to pay 1,500 royaulx d’or to his officers as the city’s share of the levy on all ‘bonnes villes’ in his obedience for the payment of the ransom of La Hire.82 Lyon was not the only contributor: in December 1436, the Haut-Limousin paid the last instalment of 1,000 eo which had been levied for the same purpose.83 In most cases, the king would not consult his subjects, although on some occasions he took care to justify himself. This can be seen in September 1434, when Charles ordered the assessors of Poitou to levy an additional 1,000 lt to be delivered to the vidame of Chartres, whom, the French king complained, ‘nous ne pouvons pas de present si largement secourir de noz finances … come nous vouldrions’ (we cannot presently succour him so largely from our own finances … as we would wish).84 Whether this claim was real or whether it was a ‘crowd-pleaser’, French kings did not hesitate to provide prisoners with funds which had been levied on the subjects of the realm for different purposes.This was already the case in January 1370, when Charles V ordered the generals responsible for the defence of the kingdom to pay 200 fo to the knight Gilles de Sarrey, to help him in raising his ransom when he was taken prisoner in the company of Hugues de Châtillon, lord of Dampierre, master of the crossbowmen.85 The esquire Sagremor de Rully gave a receipt for 140 fo to the receiver of war subsidies in July 1391 as part of the 180 fo granted to him for the payment of his ransom.86 Charles VII ordered 200 lt to be taken from the aid of Languedoc and given to Gobault Danié, in December 1425, in compensation for his recent capture in the king’s service at the siege of Guise.87 A significant 12,000 lt was levied in 1426 on the finances of Languedoc. This sum was divided between Raoul de Gaucourt, who had recently returned from a ten-year captivity in England,88 and Arnaud Guilhem de Barbazan, who had been put to ransom after a five-year imprisonment in Paris.89 After his eventual release in 1430, Barbazan received another 2,000 lt to be taken from the aid levied 82 Caillet, Études, p. 87 (27 January 1432). Curiously enough, La Hire also sent a personal letter to the Lyonnais at the same time asking them to pay as much as they could. Caillet, Études, pp. 411–13 (27 January 1432). La Hire was captured at Louviers. Beaucourt, Histoire de Charles VII, vol. ii, p. 42. 83 Thomas, Les États provinciaux, vol. ii, pp. 82–3. 84 BL, Add. Ch. 3744 (22 September 1434). One wonders whether the money was actually levied. On 4 May 1437, Charles VII ordered his president of the chamber of accounts to pay 1,000 lt to the vidame to assist him in paying his expenses and ransom. BL, Add. Ch. 4744.This, however, may have come on top of the previous payment. 85 BL, Add. Ch. 4186 (11 January 1369). 86 BL, Add. Ch. 4245 (31 July 1391).  87 BnF, PO 970, Danié, 2. 88 BL, Add. Ch. 3594 (14 April 1426). 89 He gave quittance for 3,000 lt on 14 March 1426. BnF, PO 187, Barbazan, no. 36.

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects for the crowning of the king.90 The 500 florins that Dauphin Louis, the future Louis XI, gave to the king’s esquire, Guillaume de Ricarville, for the payment of his ransom in February 1437, was an additional sum that the estates of Dauphiné had given to the Dauphin ‘pour en faire son bon plaisir’ (to be spent at his discretion).91 Finally, the knight Guillaume Cousinot, lord of Montreuil, bailli of Rouen, taken prisoner while he was on an embassy to Scotland, was granted 9,000 lt for the payment of his ransom, 300 lt of which were taken from an aid levied in Normandy for the payment of the troops on 8 August 1457.92 Conclusion An aside will open this conclusion – an important one, since it highlights the impact of ransoms on late medieval society whilst at the same time allowing justice to be done to the work of Henneman. Whilst the single capture and ransom of a man can dramatically change the course of his life and that of his family, or even his entire lineage, the single capture and ransom of a king can change the fate of a kingdom. Henneman has shown how the ransom of King John II lies behind the origins of permanent taxation in France. The aid for his ransom caused the reform of the taxation system and was continuously levied until Charles V’s death in 1380, even though the French crown had stopped paying the English after the late 1360s.93 In Brittany it was arguably the ransom of Charles de Blois that stimulated the first assembly of the three estates of the duchy (1352), whose consent he needed to raise an aid for his ransom.94 Similarly, the first mention in the sources of the assembly of the estates of Bourbon in 1418 coincides with a vote for the ‘ranson of monseigneur le duc’ (ransom of my lord the duke).95 To return to our main concerns: ransom culture and those of non-princely status. The ransom contributions of the French population as subjects of a lord or subjects of the crown are the most intriguing element. It is tempting to argue that the developing machinery of royal taxation caused the progressive disappearance of noble levies of customary aids. This was a two-step evolution. First, local nobles took advantage BnF, PO 187, Barbazan, no. 40. 91 BnF, PO 2474, Ricarville, no. 4 (5 February 1437). 92 BL, Add. Ch. 4076 (8 August 1457). 93 Henneman, Captivity and Ransom, pp. 206–311. 94 W. Blockmans, ‘Representation (Since the Thirteenth Century)’, in C. T. Allmand, ed., New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. vii: c. 1415–c. 1500 (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 29–64, at pp. 52–3. 95 Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, p. 47. 90

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Conclusion of the growing power of the provinces and their crucial role in the rise of royal taxation. They seized the opportunity to substitute, with provincial levies, the potentially contentious levies of customary aids on their own estates. Second, when the king took closer control over all the taxes raised by the provinces, noble levies which had become provincial were ultimately assimilated in royal taxation. However attractive this scenario may seem, it oversimplifies the complex and nuanced message given by the sources.96 It is wiser to consider the issues of customary aids and royal taxation separately as two potentially overlapping levies on French subjects. The detailed analysis of the case of Chauvigny demonstrates the threatening power of customary aids in the mind of his subjects, but this seems to have been the rule rather than the exception. It is therefore difficult to argue for a decline in customary aids at this time. Why, however, do the sources remain so silent about these aids? Is it only because their private nature makes them less visible? We can wonder whether there was once in the past a golden age of customary aids when they were firmly rooted in the local customs and well observed. Given the centrality of the subjects’ consent for the levy of these aids, should we not call them consensual aids? Whatever the case, it emerges from the sources that, in general, subjects of lords only paid a fraction of the total ransom. The case of Jean d’Armagnac as well as of all these prisoners in difficulty who ended up borrowing, begging for assistance to the king or selling their assets, illustrates this point. The crown’s control over additional expenses voted by the estates of Poitou seems to date back at least to the first half of the 1430s. The fund towards ransoms incurred at the battle of Verneuil may be an earlier example of it. This evidence minimises the independence of the estates and, at the same time, undermines the opportunity that local nobles had to raise money for their ransoms through provincial levies. The whole affair seems to have ended in the hands of the king. Royal taxation in aid of ransoms of prisoners of war took two different forms: popular appeal and imposition.The king’s resort to popular appeal does not mark a stage in a process towards imposition, nor is it a sign of a weaker sovereign who felt that he needed the consent of his subjects. Since the recipients

It must also be noted in passing that customary aids were still alive in the sixteenth century. See the few examples quoted in P. Hamon, ‘La Noblesse et la rançon de François Ier’, in P. Contamine, J. Kerhervé and A. Rigaudière, eds., L’Impôt au moyen âge: l’impôt public et le prélèvement seigneurial en France du XIIIe au XVIe siècles – Actes du colloque tenu à Bercy les 14, 15 et 16 juin 2000, 3 vols. (Paris, 2002), vol. i, pp. 75–96, at pp. 79–80. 96

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Assistance to prisoners (I):Vassals and subjects of these special grants were figures of high public standing, the crown (or the prisoner) may have hoped that a public appeal would bring in a large amount of money. Such appeals were not, however, standard practice. Evidence shows that from 1370 French kings made free use of taxation, whatever their initial purpose might have been, to assist prisoners in the payment of ransoms.

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Chapter 8

A s s i s tanc e to pr is on ers (II ): K i ngs and princes – first or l as t r e s ort?

Surviving contracts that legally bound French and English rulers to support their soldiers captured by the enemy are few and scattered. It is therefore tempting to consider these as exceptions arising out of particular circumstances, as the three following examples show. First, a number of contracts of indenture sealed between Edward III and several lords of the empire in 1338 bound the English king to release both the lords and their men in event of their capture.1 Edward made a similar commitment to the count of Flanders in 1339. In return, every prisoner captured by the Flemish would be handed over to Edward.2 These unusual agreements should be put in the context of Edward’s attempts to find support for his cause in the opening stages of the Hundred Years War.3 The very fact that it was the start of the conflict and that English finances had not yet been exhausted by decades of war may also have given Edward confidence that he could afford a strong interventionist policy regarding the issue of prisoners of war. A second example leaves little doubt about its exceptional character. Only one of the surviving indentures of war sealed by John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, bound him, in the event of capture of one of his men, to bring about a release from prison within a month and at the duke’s own cost.4 This preferential treatment was meted out to one of the duke’s clerks, Guyot Grassin, in October 1370, and resulted from the latter’s in-depth and confidential knowledge of Gaunt’s military affairs. 1 Sumption, The Hundred Years War, p. 199. According to P. Contamine, these terms resulted from a custom specific to the empire and central Europe. Contamine, ‘The Growth of State’, p. 176. 2 TNA, E 101/48/3/2 (26 February 1339). 3 The count eventually took refuge in Paris towards the end of the year and Edward obtained full support of the Flemish. It was in Ghent, in January 1340, that he first formally assumed the title of king of France. H. S. Lucas, The Low Countries and the Hundred Years War, 1326–47 (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1929), pp. 358–60; A. Curry, The Hundred Years War (New York, 1993), pp. 56–7. 4 John of Gaunt’s Register, 1371–1375, S. Armitage-Smith, ed., 2 vols. (London, 1911), vol. i, pp. 293–4, no. 783 (18 October 1370).

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes In return, the clerk was sworn to secrecy. This mutual engagement was breached in 1373 when Grassin was captured in Picardy and obtained from Charles V full remission of his ransom in return for military secrets and his change of allegiance.5 The final example of a royal promise to assist in the event of capture is a letter from Charles VI in July 1392 in which he made a commitment to his brother Louis, duke of Orléans, to help him in cases of ‘necessity’. These were defined as the payment of ransoms and the dowries of his daughters.6 There is no obvious precedent of such a formal engagement made by a French king in favour of his brother. We can speculate that this was an early incident in the fierce struggle between the dukes of Orléans and Burgundy for control over the sick king and therefore the kingdom. Charles VI had contracted fever in the spring of that year and was still convalescent in August when he succumbed to his first proper breakdown.7 It has been argued that assistance to members of the household of the dukes of Burgundy was an obligation incumbent upon the duke.8 Indeed, a contract dating to 1299 refers to the ‘custom of the household’ of the duke of Burgundy, according to which the duke was bound to release members of his household from prison and replace their lost horses.9 Two surviving contracts of service in the first half of the fifteenth century, however, show a radical change in this tradition under the Valois dukes of Burgundy (1363–1477).10 The replacement of lost horses was no longer a ducal obligation. Furthermore, members of the duke’s household were not permitted to ask for any assistance in meeting the cost of such expenses, which were supposed to be covered by their pension. Nor was it any longer an obligation for the duke to release a member of his household from prison, although the latter was allowed to solicit the generosity of the duke for payment of his ransom or that of his children.The contract of Huguenin du Bois, esquire of the duke’s stables, for example, anticipated that the esquire ‘ne lui [the duke] peut ne doit demander aucun don fors pour augmentacion de son mariaige, en raençon de lui RDP, vol. iv, pp. 319–22, no. 566 (20 November 1373). See also Walker, The Lancastrian Affinity, pp. 73–4.  6 AN, K 533B, no. 15 (13 July 1392).  7 On the struggle for power, see B. Schnerb, Les Armagnacs et les Bourguignons: la maudite guerre (Paris, 1988), p. 17. There are probably more of these particular agreements to be found in the sources. See, for instance, the commitment of René d’Anjou to help the prisoners of Bulgnéville in 1431. Bossuat, ‘Jean, seigneur de Rodemack’, pp. 149, 151; Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp. 100–1. But, all in all, they leave the impression that they were exceptions rather than the rule.  8 Schnerb, Jean Sans Peur, p. 365.  9 ACO, B 11 733, as cited in B. Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 786. 10 CGEB, no. 3472 (12 August 1419), no. 540 (1 September 1419). The first reference, as noted by Schnerb, refers to the appointment of Philibert de Saint-Ligier as master of the household, on 25 May 1406. Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 786.  5

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From petition to grant ou de ses enffans’ (could or should not ask for any gift from him except for ‘augmentation’ of marriage and his ransom or that of his children). These measures, aimed at preserving the ducal budget from excessive prodigality, did not necessarily restrict ‘the importunity of the requesters’, as we can see from a proclamation of Philip the Good in January 1437.11 Here the duke declared that he would not make any further donation to anyone, whether his servant or not. Yet it is significant that he left open the possibility for supplicants to ask for financial support for their own marriage and for the payment of ransoms. Princely obligations to release prisoners of war are therefore in evidence before and in the early stages of the Hundred Years War. They were not, however, common practice during the war, where they were rather occasional and circumstantial. If there was any obligation, Michael K. Jones argues, it was essentially a moral one.12 In the fifteenth century, the dukes of Burgundy seem to have considered ransoms as exceptional situations which were not necessarily expected to be covered by the pensions allocated to the members of the household. Therefore, they were potentially worthy of compassion and support. Interestingly, this seems to have applied to all subjects in the 1437 proclamation since this concerned both those who were ducal servants and those who were not. This attitude toward assistance to prisoners of war had strong implications.The initiative had to come from the prisoners or their connections. The subjects had to convince the duke, who was ultimately free to reject their demands. Finally, there was no rule that fixed the extent or amount of the ducal contribution towards ransoms.The following analysis of this model leaves no doubt about its application, not only in Burgundian lands but also in the kingdoms of France and England as a whole. An initiative of the prisone r : f rom petition to g rant Petitions were an integral part of medieval government. Ransom aid was no exception to this.13 The process of petitioning, however, still remains relatively obscure.14 How formal or informal were petitions to a ruler? Did supplicants address their request in person or through intermediaries? ACO, B 1 (1 January 1437); as cited in J. Bartier, Légistes et gens de finances au XVe siècle: les conseillers des ducs de Bourgogne, Philippe le Bon et Charles le Téméraire (Brussels, 1955), pp. 121–2. 12 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 227. 13 J. A.Tuck, ‘Richard II’s System of Patronage’, in F. R. H. Du Boulay and C. Barron, eds., The Reign of Richard II: Essay in Honour of May McKisack (London, 1971), pp. 1–20. 14 On parliamentary petitions, see G. Dodd, Justice and Grace: Private Petitioning and the English Parliament in the Late Middle Ages (Oxford, 2007). 11

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes How important was patronage in securing grants? How was the account put forward by petitioners verified, or were they simply taken at their word? What impact had the system of petitions on princely support for prisoners of war? These questions do not find easy answers, but some patterns emerge from the patchy information provided by the documentary sources. For Anthony Tuck, patronage was a key element to petitions. ‘A good lord’, he wrote, ‘was expected to obtain favours at courts for his clients and dependants, to sponsor petitions, and to provide connections with the institutional order.’15 How does this argument apply to the assistance given to prisoners of war? Clear evidence of patronage exists, but it is relatively scarce. It is well illustrated by a letter of remission granted by Dauphin Charles, then Regent of France, to Sauvage de Brinvilliers in March 1360, in consideration of ‘le bon rapport aussi qui fait nous en a esté par notre amé et feal chevalier le sire de Montmorency, conseiller de monseigneur et le notre et aucuns de notre conseil’ (the good report which has been made to us by our beloved and loyal knight the lord of Montmorency, counsellor of my lord and ours, and others of our council).16 In a long list of requests addressed to Edward III in the mid-1370s, the lord of Mussidan asked the king to compensate the losses, capture and ransom of his esquire Guillaume de Motes by giving him the office of bailli of Sainte-Foy for life.17 This was, however, not automatically granted. The king replied that he would only make a decision on the matter once he had been more fully informed. Some other grants, which will be discussed more fully in the next chapter, were made by kings and dukes to lords as retainers, so that they could help their men pay their ransoms. This was not patronage in the strict sense of the term since their men did not petition the central authority in person, but lords did secure money for them thanks to their own privileged relationship with the ruler. All in all, outright evidence of the role of patronage is limited. Should it be deduced, therefore, that patronage did not play a significant part in petitions for ransom aids, or is it simply a problem of visibility? For instance, why would any financial transaction need to specify that a grant had been issued through the intervention of a particular courtier? Yet we might expect the supplicant to consider there would be advantage in mentioning a patron in his request. It is too premature, however, to come to a definite conclusion until we have examined other solutions that presented themselves to prisoners.  Tuck, ‘Richard II’s System’, p. 15.   AN, JJ 90, fol. 237v–238, no. 474 (March 1360). 17  TNA, SC 8/262/13069 (1376?). 15



16

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From petition to grant The English parliament, for example, offered an opportunity for the prisoner to win the support not just of a single patron but the whole commons of England.18 Around twenty petitions relating to assistance to prisoners of war preserved in the series of Ancient Petitions in the National Archives (SC 8) took the parliamentary route, although this did not necessarily mean that they were debated in parliament.19 Even a great lord such as John Holland, earl of Huntingdon, found it useful to address his request to the commons in 1423, probably through an intermediary.20 Less prominent individuals needed connections in parliament to win valuable support.21 In two instances it has been possible to identify the link between the members of the parliament and petitioners. In the Good Parliament of 1376, a unique petition concerning several English knights and esquires, who had been captured by the enemy and put ‘to such great and outrageous ransoms’, was endorsed by the commons.22 Eight soldiers are named in the document, all of them knights: Sir Matthew Gournay, Sir Matthew Redman, Sir Thomas Fogg, Sir John Harpenden, Sir Gregory Sais, Sir Geoffrey Worsley, Sir Robert Twyford and Sir John Bourchier. Sir Thomas Fogg had been taken prisoner during Lancaster’s chevauchée (horse raid) in France in 1373. He may have been a prisoner for a second time in 1375 but must have regained his freedom that same year.23 His appearance in the petition is significant since he saw his first election as a knight of the shire for this parliament. This was no coincidence; the petition was most probably his initiative. Fogg tried to obtain assistance for himself and his friends, and there is evidence that he succeeded, at least partly. Sir Matthew Redman and Sir Gregory Sais received a significant amount of money to help them pay their ransoms: the former, twice captured in 1370 and 1373, received £1,000, while W.  M. Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, 1300–1450 (Houndmills and London, 1995), pp. 30–8; Dodd, Justice and Grace, pp. 170–1. 19 This estimation is based on Dodd’s assumption that the first 155 files of the series SC 8 (Ancient Petitions) contain parliamentary material. Dodd, Justice and Grace, p. 13. Outside these 155 files, a single petition specifically mentions that it was addressed to the lords in parliament. TNA, SC 8/336/15877 (1442–53). ‘It is possible however that some of the petitions which were answered during a parliament may have been submitted between parliaments, while in other instances it is possible that petitions were both submitted and answered outside meetings of parliament.’ C. Given-Wilson, ‘General Introduction’, in PROME, vol. i, p. 8. 20 TNA, SC 8/85/4229 (1423); PROME, vol. x, pp. 172–3 (October 1423). In April 1425, three petitions of Huntingdon with the same purpose were heard by the king’s council, which granted his request in all points. PROME, vol. x, pp. 251–3. In 1430, Huntingdon chose again to address his new petition to the commons, but, this time, it was not enrolled in the Parliamentary Roll. TNA, SC 8/25/1244 (1430). 21 Dodd, Justice and Grace, p. 155. 22 PROME, vol. v, pp. 344–5 (April 1376); see also about this petition,Ambühl,‘The English Reversal’, p. 193. 23 Anonimalle chronicle, pp. 63–4; The House of Commons, vol. iii, pp. 95–7. 18

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes the latter was granted an annual pension of £200 for life in 1378.24 The endorsement of the petition by the commons shows that the parliamentary class was concerned by the general issue of prisoners of war. The second example concerns the petition of Sir Thomas Rempston, which was endorsed by the commons in October 1435, probably thanks to his near friend and neighbour in Nottinghamshire, Sir John Bowes, who was speaker for the commons in that session of the parliament.25 It must be highlighted here that these two examples and, in general, the parliamentary route for the assistance to prisoners of war, are the exception rather than the rule. This route was exclusively English and concerned the upper knightly class who formed the membership of the commons and who were in a position to promote their own interests.26 In general, there was a pressing need for the prisoner or his associates to take the initiative in the process of petitioning and to enter directly in contact with the authorities.Yvon de Trémagon received 300 fo (out of a sum of 500 fo) from Charles V on 24 December 1373.27 It was stipulated in his quittance that the money had been granted to him ‘tant pour aidier à paier nostre rançon que pour les nouvelles que nous lui avions apportées de monseigneur le connestable de la prise des chasteaux de Gençay et de Chivray [Civray]’ (as much for helping pay our ransom as for the news that we had brought to my lord from the constable about the seizure of the castles of Gençay and Chivray). In other words, Trémagon had taken the opportunity of his meeting with Charles V, whose official purpose was to give news from the front, to mention his own difficulties in raising money for his ransom. It is well known that the crown displayed great generosity towards the bearers of such good news. The Hundred Years War certainly saw other examples of this kind of opportunism, but these circumstances remained relatively rare.28 Nevertheless, they point to an important factor which is suggested by other sources and practices – that of the petitioner appearing before the authorities in person.

J. S. Roskell, Parliament and Politics in Late Medieval England, 3 vols. (London, 1981–3), vol.  iii, p. 206; A. D. Carr, ‘A Welsh Knight in the Hundred Years War: Sir Gregory Sais’, Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion (1977), pp. 40–53; Ambühl, ‘The English Reversal’, p. 199. 25 TNA, SC 8/137/6844 (1435); A. Curry, ‘Henry VI: Parliament of October 1435: Introduction’, in PROME, vol. xi, pp. 160, 179–80 (October 1435). 26 Dodd, Justice and Grace, pp. 148, 150. 27 Mandements et actes divers de Charles V, 1364–1380, Delisle, ed., p. 521, no. 1004. See also BnF, PO 2806, Trémagon, no. 6 (24 December 1373). 28 For similar cases, see TNA, SC 8/141/7011A and B (fifteenth century); ADN, B 1988, fol. 195v (January 1446). 24

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From petition to grant Thomassin Duquesne’s crossing of the Channel in 1439, for instance, can be seen in relation to the generous grant of 500 so to help him pay his ransom which was given by Henry VI in the spring of that year.29 There is little doubt in this case that the former prisoner had come to England to petition the king in person. The inability to appear in person raised a fundamental issue for those captives who needed the assistance of the prince to get them out of prison. The hope of such prisoners relied on their connections and family. On 24 June 1371, the duke of Berry issued an order to his treasurer to pay 400 lt to Lady Horable for the ransom of her husband, the French knight Renaud de Montléon, who was also a chamberlain of the duke.30 Five days later, she received an extra 8 lt for the time she had spent in one of the duke’s houses while she was waiting for the 400 lt to be delivered to her.31 The English knight John Bourchier kept up a correspondence with his wife Maude during his long captivity between 1370 and 1376 and thus had the opportunity to send a petition to Edward III from his prison through her. The fact that this mission was entrusted to Maude in 1375 suggests that she, or a close associate, went in person to the court.32 The wife of Florimont de Lesparre sent Raymon Wenyn, an esquire of the lord of Lesparre, to Richard II, in 1378. Raymon is likely to have shared the captivity of his lord and might have been trying to raise the money for his own ransom as well.33 Such a practice – one prisoner acting as pledge for the temporary release of another prisoner whose mission was to raise the ransom of both men – was common. Around the end of the 1370s, for example, the brothers Châteauneuf and Raymond de Misanz had been captured by the count of Biche and taken to ‘Alemaigne’.34 They agreed to pay £250 for their ransom within the six weeks following Christmas 1378. Under a pledge entered into by both brothers, Raymond de Misanz was released on parole and took the opportunity to petition Richard II. His presence at the court is clearly attested by the king’s orders to the treasurers to pay BnF, Ms. Fr. 26065, no. 3797; see also Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 287, n. 4. 30 AN, KK 251, fol. 69v (24 June 1371). This account has been partly published in ‘Les Comptes de l’hôtel des ducs de Berry, 1370–1413’, Comte Toulgoët-Tréanna, ed., Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires du Centre, 17 (1889–90), 65–175. 31 AN, KK 251, fol. 86v (29 June 1371). 32 Jones, ‘Fortunes et malheurs’, pp. 196–7, 206–7. I found a single explicit reference to a petition enclosed in a letter, but it was not addressed to the king. It was written by John More from his prison in Saint-Brieuc, in 1370, and sent to his captain John del Strother. The poor supplicant begged for help as his life was in danger. S. Walker, ‘Profit and Loss in the Hundred Years War: The Sub-Contracts of Sir John Strother, 1374’, HR, 58 (1985), 100–6, at p.  105 and n.  39. For other examples of wives petitioning the king on behalf of their husbands, see TNA, SC 8/21/1018 (c. 1378?); PROME, vol. vi, pp. 140 (24 April 1379). On the role of prisoners’ wives, see pp. 246–50. 33 ‘[E]nvoié de part la dame de Lesparre et de ses amys’: TNA, SC 8/151/7547 (c. 1378). 34 TNA, E 404/10 (27 December 1378). 29

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes the money directly into the hands of the esquire.35 If the prisoner could not count on the dedicated service of his family or associates to petition the authorities on his behalf, he needed to obtain his release on parole in order to do it in person.36 This obstacle explains the numerous grants made a posteriori when the prisoner had already regained freedom.37 H onourable, long and loyal se rvi c e to th e c rown We have seen that nothing – or at least, no legal obligation – prevented the prince from declining the requests of petitioners. Putting the petition forward to the authorities was a significant step, but it remained for the supplicant to present his case in the best possible light. Most obviously, it was in the interest of the supplicant to expand on the circumstances of the capture if, for instance, it was not obvious that he had been taken prisoner while serving the interests of the crown. For example, John Butler thought it necessary to specify that he was taken prisoner un to Croteys in the nedes and service of oure souvereigne lorde king Harry the fifthe whom god assoille beryng his gracious letters a twixt hym and ful myghty prince the duc of Exetre the bisshop of London, the erle of Salisbury and to al other estates of oure seide souverin lordes Counsell bothe of Fraunce and Normandye and with answheres of the seide letters was by fortune taken prisoner up on the see.38

English soldiers posted in Normandy could expect preferential treatment if they were captured in the service of the king instead of during a raid launched at their own initiative.This replicated the standard arrangements for the payment of garrison soldiers who were involved in actions outside their garrisons. If they were absent on official field service there was no 35 For similar cases in which the prisoner who was released on parole petitioned the authorities, see, for instance, Recueil des actes de Jean IV, duc de Bretagne, M. C. E. Jones, ed., 3 vols. (Paris, 1980–2001), no. 249 (21 June 1377); TNA C 1/45/37 (1433–43); TNA E 404/67/195 (4 July 1451). 36 As an example of dedicated service from a retainee, see also the case of Guillaume de Montendre, who decided to petition Edward III on behalf of Jean de Grailly when he had heard of the latter’s harsh conditions of imprisonment. TNA, SC 8/258/12863 (c. 1375). Grailly appeared as the ‘master’ of Montendre in TNA, SC 8/300/14973. For a petition of Elliot Irvoys on behalf of his brother captive, see TNA, SC 8/168/8379 (c. 1350–77). 37 It is not uncommon to read in these grants that the supplicant had been a prisoner in the past, the expression in the Burgundian financial records being that he had been naguères prisoner. ADN, B 1508 (1395), fol. 92v; B 1554 (1405), fol. 68v; La France gouvernée par Jean Sans Peur, no. 1135 (1419); ADN, B 1942 (1431), fol. 89r, 91r (twice), 91v, 96r, 98rv; BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 29, fol. 135 (1432); ADN, B 1969 (1440), fol. 264; B 1972 (1441), fol. 158v; B 1982 (1444), fol. 169r, 172v; B 1991 (1447), fol. 184rv. 38 TNA, C 1/1494/14 (date unknown). A John Butler took part in the Agincourt campaign in 1415. BL, Harley, 782, fol. 80v (from TSLME). A John Boteler was in the garrison of Gisors, in 1430, under the command of Edmund Beaufort, earl of Dorset. BnF, Ms. Fr. 25769, no. 467, 517.

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Honourable, long and loyal service to the crown deduction of wages, as in the case of Robert Drest for his nine-day-long absence from his garrison in Honfleur in December 1429.39 But if a man was absent on his own ‘adventure’, his pay was forfeited. Courage could act as an extra benefit.The French captain of the castle of Chaumont, Fouquet de Courtravel, was praised by Charles VI in his grant of a letter of safeguard for several fine deeds of arms that he had performed when he was captured by the English at Durtal in 1420.40 It was particularly advantageous to a supplicant to demonstrate a long and honourable record of service. Almost all moderately detailed grants from sovereigns praise the past service of the grantee. It is likely that the original petition included this detail which was then simply copied into the grant. The following example is particularly eloquent. In 1446, the duke of Burgundy ceded half his seignorial rights (241 lt) over the sale and transport of a part of Jean d’Eaucourt’s estates and possessions pour consideracion des bons et agreables services qu’il a fais a mondit seigneur en ses voiages et armees en quoy il s’est emploié depuis qu’il a eu puissance de soy armer le plus loyaument qu’il a peu et y grandement exposé et despendu de sa chevance et mesmement depuis quatre ans son pere a esté prins prisonnier par les anglois et mis a grande et excessive raencon in consideration of the good and agreeable services that he did to my lord in his expeditions and armies in which he most loyally participated since he was in power of taking up arms, and he greatly exposed and spent his chevance, and his father had been taken prisoner by the English four years ago and put to great and excessive ransom.41

Loyalty was equally relevant, as can be seen in the case of one of the last French supporters of the English at the end of the Hundred Years War. The French esquire Jean d’Abrecourt claimed in 1449 to have paid 1,500 so of ransom for which he had contracted debts towards several people, but he was not able to pay them back since he had lost all his lands and incomes ‘pour avoir gardé sa loyauté envers le dit roy d’Angleterre et demouré continuellement en son obeissance’ (because he had kept his loyalty to the king of England and continuously remained in his obedience).42 The argument of long and loyal service was often coupled with mention of the heavy expenditure that it had incurred. Pierre de la Rivière dwelt heavily on this when he said in 1373 that he had spent a great 39 BnF, Ms. Fr. 25768, no. 420 (29 December 1429). 40 BnF, PO 890, Courtairel, 121 (26 October 1420). 41 ADN, B 1994, fol. 147v–148r (20 May 1446). 42 Jean d’Abrecourt was a former ‘esleu sur le fait des aydes ordonnez pour la guerre a Gisors’. BL, Add. Ms. 11509, fol. 30v–31r (15 May 1449).

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes part of his ‘vaillant’ (wealth) in the wars of Charles V, not only on his horse and ‘harness’ (equipment, including armour), but because he had been plundered and ransomed several times by the English.43 It was also relatively common, and certainly not superfluous, to mention repeated captures.44 Other forceful petitioners would not hesitate to remind the crown that it still owed them money for past service. Capture and ransom was a weighty argument to recover payments in arrears, as was clearly the case for Simon Flete, who, following his capture in the late 1420s, claimed £299 of unpaid wages for his office of keeper of the jewels in the reign of Henry IV.45 Flete had probably abandoned hope of getting these arrears from the crown until his capture some fifteen years later.The king would not, and could not, ignore the request of prisoners who had made private investments in his wars in France. Therefore, Henry VI came to the aid of John Holland, earl of Huntingdon, in consideration of ‘the good and gratuitous (i.e. free) services of war which he had rendered in France’.46 It was not necessarily enough to have served the ruler well; an expectation of future service was also sometimes desired or intended. In 1370, the duke of Berry gave an order to pay 44 lt to Guillaume Vigotat, master of his household, who had bought a horse to be delivered to Jean de Vaul le Comte, who had been taken prisoner by the English at Limoges.47 In 1432, the duke of Burgundy gave 100 fo to Etienne le Clerc, who had been captured the year before ‘afin qu’il se puisse remettre sus, monter et habiller pour plus honnourablement estre ou service de madicte dame la duchesse’ (so that he can re-establish himself, ride and equip himself in order to serve more honourably my said lady the duchess).48 In December 1439, Henry VI ordered the treasurers of the Exchequer and the collectors of the petty custom of the port of London to pay John Beaufort, earl of Somerset, for the money owed to him for his inheritance. This, it was noted in the grant, would allow him to serve the king well in his next expedition to France as well as to bear the heavy expenditures he had previously suffered for his ransom, following his capture at the battle of Baugé in 1421.49 Hugh Maddok, captured three times during his long service in France, was granted £40 in 1450 ‘wherwith he may hors him, harneysse him and arraye hym the better after his degree to contynue 43 AN, JJ 102, fol. 125r no. 298 (10 July 1373). 44 See n. 56.  45 TNA, SC8/111/5527 (1428). 46 POPC, vol. iv, p. 146 (19 February 1433). 47 AN, KK 251, fol. 28r (28 September 1370). 48 M. Sommé, Isabelle de Portugal, duchesse de Bourgogne: une femme au pouvoir au XVe siècle (Paris, 1998), p. 351. 49 These expenditures amounted to 16,000 marks and 4,000 marks which were yet to be paid for the release of his pledges. TNA, E 404/56/154 (12 December 1439).

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Honourable, long and loyal service to the crown and attende upon us’.50 Finally, it must be noted that this pragmatism in the wording of grants and petitions occasionally left room for unusual demonstrations of compassion. In 1438, for instance, Henry VI received John Knyvet as his true liege in consideration that he was take in oure service by misfortune of werre, levyng with his said wif X children and litel good for theire sustenance and the moost part of theym as we ben enfourmed so tendre of age that they may not help theym self, also how hevy it is to hym soo long to lye in the hand of oure ennemis, and also how grevous it shal be to hym to chevysshe hys raunson.51

Supplicants such as Knyvet’s wife would not hesitate to dwell on, and possibly exaggerate, the level of their distress in order to move the prince to generosity. One significant principle, however, emerges from the particularly vivid descriptions of the pains that prisoners allegedly endured. Many felt the need to highlight that they had explored every possible opportunity to get out of trouble and had eventually called on their prince because nothing else had worked for them. Sir Thomas Dring claimed in 1446 to have been captured five times.52 He ‘hath solde his lyvelode’ to pay his ransoms, but a part of his last ransom remained outstanding and he was allegedly ‘not of power to paie withoute oure aide’.53 The king acceded to his request. As for John Clyfton, it was because ‘he nor all his frendes be not of power to satesfie and acquite’ his ransom that he ultimately decided to ask the crown for assistance after his capture at Formigny in 1450.54 This may seem relatively standard terminology, suggesting that clerks knew how best to frame such petitions. But clearly prisoners were not necessarily expected to beg for help from the crown as the first step. In a letter of remission issued in 1445 Charles VII praised the fact that Huguet Blondeau managed to pay several great and excessive ransoms ‘sans avoir eu de nous aucun aide’ (without having received any support from us).55 Examples of combatants, like Blondeau, who had been captured and ransomed several times before appealing to the crown, were numerous.56 Others did not contemplate a petition to the 50 TNA, E 404/66/217 (28 August 1450). 51 TNA, PSO 1/5/298 (6 June 1438). 52 TNA, E 404/62/17 (18 July 1446); see also TNA, E 404/56/270 (20 May 1440). 53 TNA E 404/62/17. 54 TNA, C 81/1546/78; Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 223; see also TNA, E 404/56/164 (4 February 1440). 55 AN, JJ 177, fol. 41rv (September 1445). 56 See, for example, RDP, vol. iv, pp. 80–3, no. 503 (November 1370), p. 106 n. 1 (?1371), p. 42, n. 1 (10 September 1372); AN, JJ 173, no. 518 (May 1426); English Suits, p. 118 (6 June 1426); TNA, E 404/62/217; 65/182; also quoted in English Suits, p. 292 (18 July 1446); TNA, E 404/52/232 (21 August 1446); ADN, B 1991, fol. 174r–v (10 September 1446); Chronique du Mont-St-Michel, vol. ii,

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes authorities as an option, or were not in a position to do so, and therefore changed allegiance, escaped or died in prison.57 T he e nquiry How could the authorities be sure that the supplicants were telling the truth? Some petitions definitely led to an enquiry. In 1327, Bernard de Semains, a Gascon knight, stated that he had long served both the king (Edward III) and his grandfather (Edward I) and had recently been captured and ransomed by the enemy.58 He was bankrupt as a result. The knight acknowledged the receipt of £80 from the seneschal of Gascony, Oliver Ingham, in aid of his ransom, but he asked for more so that he could maintain his estates.59 We read in the endorsement of this petition that the king intended to send a suitable seneschal to Gascony to find out about the losses and damages given and received. He would then make a decision on the basis of this enquiry. Philip VI specified in his order to pay 114 lt to the French knight Guillaume de Vi in aid of his ransom in 1348 that he had been informed (‘nous nous tenons pour enformez’) that Vi was bound by oath not to enter any of his houses until he had cleared his debts.60 This need for further information was both here and in other cases a condition sine qua non. As we have seen, Edward III would not make any decision concerning a grant to Guillaume de Motes until he had been appropriately informed about his case.61 In 1350, Philip, duke of Orléans, granted 200 lt to Guillaume de Tournebu towards the ransom of his son who had been captured by the English at Crécy.62 This sum was assigned on the receipt of the treasurer of Beaumont-le-Rogier, but the latter had refused to follow the ducal order because he did not believe Tournebu.63 Having heard of this, the duke ordered the treasurer to enquire at very short notice about the capture and ransom of Tournebu. How in-depth were, or could, these enquiries be? We have seen that there were limitations in the investigations carried out by the captain of Avranches, Thomas Burgh, on the concealment of profits of war in pp. 200–2, no. 259 (January 1447), vol. ii, pp. 253–5, no. 298 (Sep 1457); ADN, B 1991, fol. 184 rv (28 April 1447). 57 For changes of allegiance, See pp. 92–3. 58 TNA, SC8/282/14190 (1327). 59 On Ingham, see M.Vale, ‘Ingham, Oliver, Lord Ingham (c.1287–1344)’, ODNB. 60 BL, Add. Ch. 4152 (14 December 1348). 61 TNA, SC 8/262/13069 (1376?) 62 BL, Add. Ch. 17628 (18 November 1350). 63 ‘[I]l ne vous appert pas deuement de la dicte prinse et raencon d’icellui escuier.’

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The enquiry 1426.64 The enquiry was eventually dropped because the verification of Burgh’s claims consumed too much time. Investigating the capture and ransom of a single man was less complicated since it did not involve any problems concerning the share of the spoils. It remained problematic, however, that one main party, the master of the prisoner, could not be consulted. Suspicions were raised among Jean de Chauvigny’s subjects who challenged the alleged capture of their lord at Agincourt.65 The following certificate for the capture and ransom of John Cachelewe, sergeant of Pont-Saint-Pierre, sheds some light on how royal investigations might be conducted.66 This document, issued by the vicomte of Léry,67 testifies to Cachalewe’s capture, imprisonment (from 22 October 1426 to 1 June 1427) and ransom of 136 eo. In order to pay this he had sold most of the family’s patrimony, he and his siblings being consequently reduced to living at the expense of their friends.68 The document resulted from a request of the authorities, either because Cachalewe had petitioned the crown for assistance or because he needed to provide an explanation for his long absence from duty. As in the case of Semains in 1327, the crown relied – or was expected to rely – on the word of its local officer, in this case a Norman vicomte (and there, a seneschal of Gascony). The vicomte himself did not carry out a proper investigation. His own view relied, as specified in the certificate, on those of two minor Norman officers who were tabellions (official notaries) at Léry and Pont-Saint-Pierre. They are said to have ‘true knowledge’ of Cachalewe’s case. These local officers living in the vicinity were in a good position to enquire about his misfortunes. The weight of oral testimonies is striking. It seems that the crown was willing to rely on the word of an individual of authority and good repute who was sufficiently close to the events. On occasion, further evidence was requested. Gilles Leclerc claimed to have been captured and robbed near Compiègne while carrying money for the wages of Louis de Ghistelles in 1414, and then imprisoned, tortured and eventually ransomed.69 The duke of Burgundy agreed to give him 50 fo in compensation for his losses and damages on the condition that he gave further evidence of his ransom (‘ledit Giles feroit deuement apparoir de la dicte raencon’). He provided the treasurers with a letter of 64 See p. 143.  65 See p. 1801–90. 66 Jean Cachalot in the certificate. He may well have been this John Cachalew(e) or John Casselewe, a man-at-arms in the garrison of Eu (1434–5) and Neuchâtel (1437). BnF, Ms. Fr. 25772, no. 919, 947; Coll. Clairambault, 201, 63/5; AN, K 64/12, no. 1 (from TSLME). 67 Département Eure, arrondissement Les Andelys, Cant.Val-de-Reuil. 68 BnF, Ms. Fr. 26050, no. 759 (13 August 1427). 69 ADN, B 1897, fol. 103rv (I owe this reference to Professor Bertrand Schnerb); see also B 1903, fol. 103 (17 April 1414).

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes Louis de Ghistelles, a powerful lord, testifying that he had indeed been captured and ransomed.70 There is definite evidence that other captives were taken at their word alone, however.This was the case for Jacob Polet, man-at-arms (1428); Thomas Dring, esquire (1446); Jean Le Rousselet (1446); and Hugh Madok, esquire (1450).71 It is explicitly mentioned in these four grants that their claims were ‘as they said’, which may suggest that the crown was not totally convinced by their story. That said, these men did benefit from its largesse without further enquiry; Dring even received 100 marks, which was the full amount he had asked for.72 The Middle Ages were essentially an oral society in which the word of honour held a prominent place. Honour was, before all, a question of status; nobles par excellence were honourable (unless they proved otherwise). It would not be surprising, therefore, that the crown was naturally inclined to trust the word of noble petitioners and to ask commoners, when it was deemed necessary, to back up their claims with the word of a powerful lord. This was a tendency that helps to put the evidence relating to enquiries into context. Grant s and g rante e s : a p rof i le Would a supplicant who ‘ticked all the boxes’ – the submission of the petition in person, the capture of the prisoner while serving the crown, an honourable and long record of past service as well as promises for the future – be guaranteed assistance in the payment of his ransom? A crucial piece of information is missing here: the unsuccessful petitions. How often were petitions turned down? Why were they refused? Who were the unlucky supplicants? The gap left by these questions can be partly filled by a closer analysis of the successful applicants and their grants. Particular attention will be devoted to the Burgundian context, which is abundantly illustrated in the sources. More than 220 grants from the 1360s to the 1440s have been collected.73 Even this may not reveal the 70 ‘[L]ettre dudit messire Loys de Ghistelle par laquelle appert de la raencon et prinse’. ADN, B 1903, fol. 103. See also the role of the lieutenant general and governor of France and Normandy in BNF, PO 1873, Martin en Normandie, no. 20 (28 March 1449). 71 TNA, E 404/44/306 (May 1428); TNA, E 404/62/217, as cited in English Suits, p. 292 (18 July 1446); TNA E 404/62/232 (21 August 1446); 66/217 (28 August 1450). 72 TNA, E 404/62/217. 73 The 222 cases have been collected from ACO, B 370, 380, 1430, 1438, 1441, 1444, 1454, 1460, 1461–3, 1467, 1469, 1475, 1479, 1500, 1503, 1507–8, 1538, 1543, 1554, 1556, 1558, 1560, 1568, 1570–2, 1576, 1594, 1598, 1606 4074, 5520, 11884, 11886; ADN, B 1894, 1897, 1903, 1988, 1920, 1923, 1942, 1947, 1951, 1954, 1969, 1972, 1978, 1982, 1988, 1991 (the registers in italics have not been surveyed systematically); BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 24, 29; BnF, Na. Fr. 20528, pp. 208–9; BnF PO 1502, Heilly, no. 34040; PO 519, Brimeu, no. 4. Some registers have been published in Mollat’s CGEB and Pocquet du Haut-Jussé’s La France gouvernée par Jean Sans Peur. I am most indebted to Professor

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Grants and grantees: a profile total number once in existence. The series of archives which has been consulted is not continuous over the span of years, and it is not certain whether the Burgundian registers of accounts that form the basis of the corpus of documents necessarily kept track of all the grants issued by the dukes. Any definitive pattern is thus difficult to establish. What appears clear is that major encounters involving Burgundian soldiers (for instance, the crusade of Nicopolis in 1396, the battle of Marck in 1405 and the siege of Compiègne in 1430) were followed by a larger cluster of grants.74 The following analysis will be focused on grants and grantees.Who were the recipients? Did they form a homogenous group? How much money did they receive? Can we establish a scale of grants? What proportion of the ransom did these grants cover? How does the Burgundian example compare with the situation in France and England? The profile of the successful petitioners in the ‘Burgundian sample’ is marked by prominent features. Not surprisingly, a large proportion of recipients were members of the dukes’ household. Considering the whole period from 1363 to 1447, 56 per cent of grants were made to individuals who have been clearly identified as members of the household. Taking the fifteenth century only, this proportion increases to 61 per cent, and the increase is even sharper after 1415 (69 per cent). These figures show the survival of a Burgundian tradition of support to the members of the ducal household, even if it was no longer an obligation. But can we talk about its reinforcement in the fifteenth century? The households of the duke grew bigger as time went on.This may have resulted in the progressive concentration of available funds on ducal staff.75 On the other hand, the figures may simply reflect the relative ease in identifying men after 1415 thanks to different prosopographical tools available to historians.76 The difference between the average grant to (identified) members and to (likely) non-members of the dukes’ household, which was almost three Bertrand Schnerb for the references concerning the fourteenth century which he has generously provided to me. I have also made an extensive use of his Ph.D. thesis, ‘Aspects de l’organisation militaire dans les principautés bourguignonnes’ (pp. 870–92), where he has collected and listed all the ransom contributions from the 1370s to the 1410s that he had come across in his research. Finally, I am very grateful to him for the photographic reproductions of different accounts in the 1440s that he passed on to me. 74 On Nicopolis, see J. Paviot, ‘La Croisade bourguignonne aux XIVe et XVe siècles: un idéal chevaleresque?’, Francia, 33/1 (2006), 31–68, especially at pp. 49–54. 75 On the growing size of the duke’s household, see W. Paravicini, ‘Die Hofordnungen Herzog Philipps des Guten von Burgund’, Francia, 10 (1982), 131–66; 11 (1983), pp. 257–301; B. Schnerb, L’État bourguignon, 1363–1477 (Paris, 1999), pp. 290–5. 76 B. A. Pocquet du Haut-Jussé, Michel Mollat and Werner Paravicini have published different pieces of financial documentation from 1414 to 1467 (see n. 73 and 75). There is also an online database, Prosopographia Burgundica, that catalogues members of the household of the dukes of Burgundy and mainly concerns the fifteenth century.

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes times higher, supports this assumption: non-members were more obscure people who are therefore less easily identifiable.77 Another way to interpret the low average grant for these non-members is to accept that the dukes were more generous with the staff of their household. Whatever the case, these observations show, both in terms of the number of grants and in the level of sums given, that members of the household were the main beneficiaries of ducal largesse. The second major feature of these grants is the marked over representa­tion of the nobility: 80 per cent of grantees were nobles – 44 per cent esquires and 36 per cent knights  – against only 20 per cent of non-nobles (whose  status was unspecified). By way of comparison, the percentage of nobles in the household of Philip the Good in 1426 amounted to 25 per cent, and the nobility in the different regions of France in the first half of the fourteenth century did not exceed on average 2.4 per cent.78 These figures are not surprising. By and large, the domestic life of the dukes would be organised by the non-noble elements of the household.79 Many an office held by nobles was purely honorific. The dukes used their household as a way of integrating their leading subjects whilst nobles served mainly via participation in wars, as was expected from them. As a general rule, the scale of grants issued by the dukes quite naturally matched the social hierarchy. After all, the most prominent lords paid the biggest ransoms. The average grant, all groups included, is worth approximately 425 lt.80 This figure is considerably boosted by grants to the knights whose average (872 lt) is almost four times higher than that of the esquires (224 lt) and more than twelve times higher than that of the non-nobles (68 lt). It emerges from all these figures that the typical grantee was a nobleman from the household whose status determined the level of generosity 77 I have excluded the two highest grants issued to these hypothetic non-members of the household, as they clearly depart from the others. The highest grant amounting to 16,000 couronnes d’or was given to Georges de la Trémoïlle on 22 December 1442, following his capture and ransom by Perrinet Gressart. La Trémoïlle was travelling under the protection of a safe-conduct provided by the duke when he was captured. The assistance was thus a question of honour. ADN, B 1978, fol. 168r. The second highest grant, given to Boucicaut after Nicopolis, will be discussed later. 78 Paravicini, ‘Die Hofordnungen’, pp. 148–58; Schnerb, L’État bourguignon, pp. 291–2; P. Contamine, La Noblesse au royaume de France de Philippe le Bel à Louis XI: essai de synthèse (Paris, 1997), p. 52. 79 W. Paravicini, ‘The Court of the Dukes of Burgundy: A Model for Europe?’, in R. G. Asch and A. M. Birke, ed., Princes, Patronage, and the Nobility: The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age (Oxford, 1991), pp. 69–102, at pp. 71–3. 80 It must be highlighted here that this figure, and the following ones in this paragraph, are not ‘accurate’, since the grants are recorded in many different currencies. Conversions into the same currency over more than eighty years in that troubled period are particularly hard to do. Nevertheless, the figures presented here are still evocative, particularly in terms of proportion.

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Grants and grantees: a profile of the duke. Who were the individuals behind these numbers and what does their particular relationship with the duke tell us about the distribution of grants? These questions will be explored through the largest grants and their grantees where information is more readily available. The highest grant – 7,000 eo – was issued to the marshal of Burgundy, Jean de Toulongeon (counsellor of Philip the Good), in July 1425, following his capture before Bussières two years earlier.81 Here, in addition to supporting a member of the household who issued from the high nobility of Burgundy, Philip the Good was helping a key and experienced officer of his army to regain his freedom.This exceptional generosity was thus partly, if not wholly, pragmatic. This argument must have inflated many a grant from many a prince, as was the case for Du Guesclin too.82 Take also the fifteenth-century example of Raoul de Gaucourt, who was chamberlain and counsellor of Charles VII in 1427, his first chamberlain from 1437 to 1453, and then grand master of his household. Gaucourt fought tirelessly in the wars against the English as governor of Orléans (1427–58), Blois (1444), Dauphiné (1431–42) and captain of Chinon (1429), Rouen and Gisors (1449, 1451), and he also acted as an ambassador for the French crown.83 We have already considered his first capture at Harfleur in 1415 and his exchange with John Holland, earl of Huntingdon in 1426, when he also received a compensation of 6,000 lt from Charles VII.84 Gaucourt was captured a second time towards the end of 1440 as he was on his way to relieve the town of Harfleur, which was then being besieged by the English.85 At first, Charles VII checked that the lord of Cliqueton (John, Lord Clinton?),86 captured at Pontoise at about the same time, was not already ransomed in order that he could organise an exchange with Gaucourt.87 This project of exchange may have failed, since Charles also ordered 3,000 eo in aid for Gaucourt’s ransom to be levied on the estates of Languedoil and Languedoc in 1442.88 81 B. Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp. 59–60. There is trace of a payment of 3,000 eo on 7 May 1426. BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 29, fol. 48. 82 See p. 136. 83 The complete biography of this prominent figure is yet to be written. Two useful biographical notices can be found in Bozzolo, Cour Amoureuse, no. 204b and Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel, Fiches, pp. 253–6. 84 BL, Add. Ch. 3594 (14 April 1426). 85 Berry, Les Chroniques, p. 230. Louis, archbishop of Rouen, chancellor of France, was informed that Gaucourt had been captured by men of the garrison of Neuchâtel in October 1440. BL, Add. Ch. 1488 (12 October 1440). 86 A protection for a year was granted to Lord Clinton, a prisoner in France, on 24 May 1443. POPC, vol. v, p. 278. 87 AN, X1a 4801, fol. 398v–99 (26 February 1448). 88 Traces of these orders and payments in BnF, PO 1292, Gaucourt, nos. 46, 47, 49–52, 54–6 (4 February 1442–12 September 1443). Many other examples could be quoted here. Some, like that of Guillaume des Bordes, raise questions. The French knight, who was an active soldier in the

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes Some of these key officers would not even need to make petition. So useful to the prince were they that he would charge people to work on their release, as was the case for Pierre de Rieux, marshal of France.89 The second highest grant – 6,000 fo – was given to Jean II le Meingre, better known as Boucicaut, following his return from prison at Nicopolis on 3 May 1398.90 John the Fearless, then count of Nevers, saved the life of Boucicaut, who was on the verge of being executed after the defeat.91 Apparently, it would only have been a reciprocal favour since Boucicaut had saved Nevers’ life that day, or so the duke claimed in 1407. Nicopolis had sealed an indissoluble friendship between the two men so that the generous grant of 1398 should be put in this perspective. Any grantee who enjoyed a personal bond with the prince could expect to be helped more generously than anyone else. Similarly, Jacques de Heilly (chamberlain of John the Fearless) received a very generous 3,000 fo (the fifth-highest grant) following his capture and ransom by the English in December 1405.92 This may also have been in memory of Nicopolis, where Heilly’s rudimentary knowledge of Turkish had saved the lives of Nevers and many other lords.93 The third highest grant – 4,000 fo – was provided to Jean de Fribourg, esquire of John the Fearless, in May 1421, more than a year and a half after his capture at Montereau where John the Fearless had been murdered.94 The grave circumstances of this episode may have inspired the new duke, Philip the Good, to give generously to the fortunate Burgundian supporters present on the bridge who did not lose their lives. Guillaume de Vienne, lord of Saint-Georges, counsellor and chamberlain of Philip the Good, was almost as generously provided for by the duke who gave him 3,600 fo (the fourth highest grant), and the knight Antoine de la Marche, counsellor and chamberlain of Philip the Good, received 2,000 1370s, received a huge 20,000 lt grant from Charles V in 1380 and another 1,500 fo from the duke of Burgundy on 13 May 1383. ACO, B 1460, fol. 116v (B. S.); Contamine, Guerre, état, pp. 567–8. 89 ‘Les Comptes d’Auffroy Guinot, trésorier et receveur général de Bretagne, 1430–1436: édition et commentaire’, M. C. E. Jones, ed., Journal des savants, (2010), 17–109, 265–306, at p. 44. There is also an interesting mention of a king of arms of the duke of Burgundy who had been sent for the deliverance of several Burgundian gentlemen captured during a raid on 15 October 1441. ADN, B 1972, fol. 185r–v. This initiative from the duke was seemingly exceptional. 90 ‘[P]our considération des grands et notables services qu’il a fait à monseigneur de Nevers, tant au voyage de Hongrie en pourchassant la délivrance dudit comte des mains et prisons du sultan et autrement après sa délivrance et aussi pour l’aider à payer sa rançon et supporter les grandes pertes et frais occasionnés par ce voyage’. Paviot, ‘La croisade bourguignonne’, p. 49. 91 See, for instance, Schnerb, Jean Sans Peur, pp.  83–94, especially p.  85; on the life and career of Boucicaut, see Lalande, Jean II le Meingre dit Boucicaut (1366–1421). 92 BnF, PO 1502, Heilly, no. 34040; Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 884 (26 December 1405). 93 Shnerb, Jean Sans Peur, pp. 85, 223. 94 ACO B 11886; Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 892 (19 May 1421).

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Grants and grantees: a profile fo.95 On the other hand, two minor officers were only given 10 fo and 26 lt 5 st.96 It was not just a question of circumstances. Jean de Fribourg was only an esquire, although no ordinary one since he was the son and heir of Conrad de Fribourg, count of Neuchâtel, an aristocrat of high public standing whose alliance contributed to the splendour of the court of Burgundy.97 Jean de Fribourg had only started to serve the duke in arms about the time of Montereau. A long career followed, with its crowning achievement in 1440 when he became marshal of Burgundy.98 It is appropriate, however, to highlight that the dukes of Burgundy did not use ransom aids as a way to engage the services or to integrate new individuals into their household. Ransom aids were very much an ‘in-house’ business. If the grantees were not already part of the ducal household, at least they had been retained by the dukes to fight on their behalf, as, for instance, the brothers Jean and Clavin du Clou, two mercenaries from Savoy at the beginning of the fifteenth century.99 Our sample includes four 3,000-franc grants (the fifth highest amount), one of which was made to the Burgundian knight Guillaume de Vienne, lord of Bussy in September 1431, following his capture at Anthon in June 1430.100 Bussy was not a member of the ducal household at that time but he was the son of the lord of Saint-Georges, who, as we have seen, was a counsellor and chamberlain of the duke by the time of his own capture in 1419. Therefore, not only does this grant illustrate the successful enforcement of the terms according to which the dukes’ pensioners were entitled to claim assistance for the ransom of their sons, but it also shows that the same family could be the recipient of several grants.101 While the Vienne family was the most generously provided (the father and son CGEB, no. 4702 (24 July 1420); BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 29, fol. 61 (29 October 1439). Guillaume de Vienne already had a long record of service before Montereau. He eventually became a knight of the Order of the Toison d’Or when the order was created in 1431. For him and his career, M.-Th. Caron, ‘Guillaume de Vienne, seigneur de Saint-Georges et de Sainte-Croix’, in Toison d’Or, pp. 3–5.   96 CGEB, no. 3749 (27 November 1419); ADN, B 1920, fol. 77r (11 October 1419).   97 On the embassy sent to France for the deliverance of Fribourg and the raising of funds, see A.-L. Sans, ‘“Opération rançon”: des Neuchâtelois dans la France en guerre, 1419–1421’, Musée Neuchâtelois, (2003), 119–31; ‘La Rançon de Montereau’, pp. 103–21.   98 Schnerb, ‘Les Honneurs de la maréchaussée’, pp. 73–4.   99 ACO, B 1903, fol.  105r (1 July 1414); 108v (1 October 1414). On their service to John the Fearless, see B. Schnerb, ‘Bourgogne et Savoie au début du XVe siècle’, Publication du Centre Européen d’Études Bourguignonnes, 32 (1992), pp.  13–29. Many foreign captains, however, were integrated in the household of John the Fearless. B. Schnerb, ‘Les Capitaines de Jean sans Peur’, in A. Marchandisse and J.-L. Kupper, eds., À l’ombre du pouvoir: les entourages princiers au moyen âge (Geneva, 2003), pp. 329–42, at p. 333. 100 ADN, B 1942, fol. 142, 152v (2 September 1431). 101 For other examples of assistance to the son of a member of the household, see ACO, B 1441, fol. 57r (10 April 1374); B 11886 (5 January 1403); BnF, Na. Fr. 20528, p. 209 (1412); ACO, B 1598,   95

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes received 6,600 fo between them), the Brimeu family stands out by the number of grants issued to its members in the first half of the fifteenth century. Our sample includes no less than nine grants to eight different Brimeu: (1) 100 eo to David de Brimeu, lord of Ligny-sur-Canches (then ‘échanson’ (cupbearer) and later counsellor and chamberlain of John the Fearless) in 1405; (2) 300 eo to Louis, lord of Brimeu (chamberlain of the king) in 1405; (3) 600 fo to David de Brimeu, lord of Humbercourt (then chamberlain and, later on, master of the household of John the Fearless) in 1409; (4) 108 lt 15 st and 500 lt to Athis de Brimeu (esquire of the future Philip the Good) in 1415 and 1418; (5) 48 lt to Guyot de Brimeu (?) in 1431; (6) 1,350 lt to Florimont de Brimeu (counsellor and chamberlain of Philip the Good and a knight of the Golden Fleece) in 1431; (7) 1,350 lt to Jacques de Brimeu, lord of Grigny (esquire of Philip the Good) in 1431; and (8) 2,000 fo to Guérart de Brimeu (esquire of Philip the Good) in 1445.102 This is a compelling illustration of the inclination of the dukes to give continuous (and continuously strong) support to a single family. It also shows how deep the integration of an entire family in the ducal household might be, each member enjoying the right to claim a ransom aid separately.103 If a single conclusion can be drawn from this sample, it is that the ducal household was central to the distribution of ransom aids. Dukes and princes, in general, helped the men in their close entourage, and those who served them most diligently, the notions of service and friendship being far from exclusive. The contribution How helpful were these princely ransom aids? In December 1378, the English government clearly stated in a grant issued to Raymond de Misanz that it would contribute half the money that he claimed for his ransom and that of the Châteauneuf brothers: i.e. £125 out of £250.104 This case is exceptional in two respects. First, nowhere else can we find the authorities explicitly stating the proportion of the ransom that they were prepared to pay. Second, it is rare that we know both the exact amount of the ransom aid granted to an individual and, at the same fol.  161; Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, pp. 876, 884, 888 and 891. For the last reference, see also CGEB, no. 2777, 3716 (25 March–12 August 1419). 102 ACO, B 1554, fol. 70r (12 November 1405); B 1571, fol. 107v (8 April 1406); BnF, PO 519, Brimeu, no. 4 (30 December 1409); ACO, B 1903, fol. 118v–119r (1 March 1415); Schnerb,‘Aspects’, pp. 885, 887, 889; La France gouvernée par Jean Sans Peur, no. 291 (7 December 1418); ADN, B 1942, fol. 34v, 35r, 36v (1431); B 1988, fol. 184v (20 March 1445). 103 On this family and one of its most prominent members, see Paravicini, Guy de Brimeu. 104 TNA, E 404/10 (27 December 1378).

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The contribution time, the total amount of his ransom. Was there any rule governing the amounts of the grants? The Burgundian sample offers some insight into this question. The most recurrent amounts of grants are round figures including 20 (× 10), 30 (× 7), 50 (× 9), 100 (× 36), 200 (× 34), 300 (× 11), 1,000 (× 9), 2,000 (× 8) fo.The fact that these amounts involved different currencies (even if the franc was by far the main currency) should call for caution as they did not have the same value, but the particularly large distribution of 100 fo – to nineteen esquires and fourteen knights – and 200 fo – to fifteen esquires and fifteen knights – is interesting. Was it the result of a set scale of ransoms using round numbers where the duke contributed a defined proportion? Or is it a sign that the ducal contribution was established according to the status of the petitioner at the lower end of the noble hierarchy? Intriguingly, the same questions arise from the duke of Anjou’s grant of 440 fo to eight soldiers captured at Montpont in 1370, which was distributed as follows: three prisoners received 80 fo while the five others only got half this sum.105 The fact that knights and esquires were mixed up in the two main categories of grants and grantees (100 and 200 fo) in the Burgundian sample may indicate that ducal contributions responded to the preference of masters and prisoners for round numbers and multiples of a hundred when they agreed on the price of the ransom. They may also be further evidence of a set scale for ransoms as was increasingly the case in the fifteenth century.106 The crucial question remains as to what proportion of a ransom these grants corresponded. In theory, the average grant to an esquire taken from the Burgundian sample amounted to slightly more than 200 fo.107 Françoise Bériac-Lainé and Chris Given-Wilson have estimated that the average ransom of the French esquires captured at Poitiers ranged between £50 and £500, or approximately 300 and 3,000 fo.108 Such a grant would thus amount to at best 66 per cent, and at worst 6.6 per cent, of the ransom. In practice, some key officers could expect to be paid very generously, the ransom aid nearing or perhaps even equalling the amount of the ransom. Even some lower-ranking officers could expect to see their losses totally covered by the prince. In 1414, for example, Giles Leclerc claimed to have been robbed of 14 eo and ransomed at 36 eo (50 eo = 65 lt). The duke of Burgundy gave him BnF, Ms. Fr. 20586, no. 33 (21 March 1370). 106 See pp. 149–50. 107 Apart from such an exception as Jean de Fribourg, the group of esquires is quite homogenous, far more so than the group of knights which includes a large variety of individuals from very different social backgrounds. It should be noted here that all the grants were not in francs d’or and that the value of the franc had changed throughout the war. 108 See Chapter 5. 105

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes 50 fo (= 50/55 lt).109 Evidence suggests that, in other cases, this ducal contribution was more modest. It amounted to only 20 per cent of the ransom of Guillaume de la Viesville (esquire of the duke) in 1409 (200 eo/1,000 eo); 40 per cent of the ransom of Boquet de Lattre (esquire of the duke) and his varlets in 1412 (200 fo = 220 lt/400 eo = 560 lt); and 35 per cent of that of Guillaume le Houdent (chamberlain of John the Fearless) in 1419 (2,000 lt/5,000 fo and 18 silver marks = +/− 5,700 lt).110 Princely contributions were no more consistent on the other side of the Channel. Sir Thomas Rempston only got 35 per cent of the money he claimed (1,000 marks = 4,000 lt/9,000 eo = 11,250 lt) in 1436, while Pierre Rousseau, an officer of the English crown in Paris, obtained full compensation in 1437 (50 marks = 200 lt/160 eo = 200 lt). At the lower end, John Wrixworth, one of the king’s messengers, and Clément Bourse, lieutenant of the bailli of Caux, were granted, respectively, 22 per cent (£20 = 120 lt/400 so = 537 lt) and 15 per cent (£50 = 300 lt/1,600 so = 2,000 lt) of their ransom, in 1440 and 1443.111 We do not need to know the exact amount of the ransoms in the following cases to realise that the princely grants would only be worth a small fraction of the ransoms. There is serious doubt, for example, whether the £20 grant issued by Edward III to nine English prisoners kept in captivity in Saint-Omer in 1369 would pay even a single ransom.112 About a year later, the same English government, through the hands of Alan Buxhill, contributed 3,034 fo towards the ransoms of no fewer than sixty-two English prisoners taken by the French in 1370, including some knights such as Willam Nevill, John Clanvow and Edmund Daumarle.113 This means that, on average, each soldier would benefit from slightly less than 50 fo. A surviving series of accounts of the duke of Berry’s household for the years 1370 to 1374 adds to this study.114 It includes twenty grants over four years, which amounted to only 96 lt on average. Three soldiers received a much larger sum of money. Amongst these was a chamberlain of the duke, Renaud de Montléon, who got 400 lt, but we ADN, B 1897, fol. 103 rv. 110 ACO, B 1556, fol.  69r (8 January 1409); ACO, B 1894, fol.  200rv (18 March 1412); Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 887; La France gouvernée par Jean Sans Peur, no. 1131 (9 June 1419). 111 TNA, E 404/52/411 (30 June 1436); 53/307 (15 May 1437); 56/270 (20 May 1440); 60/256 (1443). For Bourse’s capture and ransom, see Inventaire-sommaire des archives départementales antérieures à 1790, Seine Inférieure, vol.  ii: Archives ecclésiatiques, Série G (no. 1567–3172), C. de Robillard de Beaurepaire, ed. (Paris, 1874), G 1889; Goulay, ‘La Résistance’, p. 97. 112 Issue Roll of Thomas Brantingham, p. 344 (31 October 1369). 113 TNA, E 101/30/38–9 (1371); Ambühl, ‘Reversal of Fortunes’, pp. 192–3, 202. 114 AN, KK 251, fol.1–46 (1 June 1370–May 1371); fol. 47–104 (1 June 1371–31 May 1372); fol. 105 to end (1 June–31 December 1373); KK 252 (1 January–31 December 1374). 109

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The contribution know that his ransom was almost ten times higher, amounting to 3,650 lt.115 At about the same time, Charles V contributed 100 fo towards the ransom of Jean de Cros, bishop of Limoges, an insignificant sum if we take the ransoms of Poitiers as points of reference.116 In 1406, Henry IV gave a mere £20 to his esquire, John Mortymer, who had been captive for more than four years and could not afford his ransom.117 In the same year, Charles VI only paid 500 lt to assist several knights and chamberlains of the king, prisoners of the English, to pay their ransom. (Unfortunately their number is not specified.)118 Many more examples would extend this list of humble gifts. Michael K. Jones came to the conclusion that English kings were not generous.119 This argument should not, however, be taken too far.The fragmentary nature of the sources must be emphasised. So much of the French and English financial documentation has disappeared or is in a particularly bad state. That such a deficiency of the sources can mislead is best illustrated by Breton examples. Some individual orders and quittances of payment have survived in the 1410/20s which, to some extent, back up the idea of a lack of ducal generosity.120 The recent edition of the fragmentary surviving ducal accounts for the years 1430–5 gives a different picture.121 The duke gave assistance to almost fifty men, either directly or through their captains. He raised 18,700 l to assist the payment of the ransom of Pierre de Rieux, marshal of France, in 1429, and granted a significant 800 eo to an esquire called Jean de Baulac in 1432.122 Apart from these two examples, and a couple more entries, the amounts of the grants paid to all the other recipients are unknown. Furthermore, in many cases we cannot be sure that prisoners petitioned the authorities for the whole amount of their ransoms. Evidence of supplicants asking only for a fraction of their ransom is not uncommon. Two examples show just how misleading this practice could be. The ransom of Jacob Polet amounted to 1,800 eo of which, at the time of his petition in May 1428, he had already paid 1,200 115 AN, KK 251, fol.  69v (24 June 1371). On the amount of his ransom, see RDP, vol.  iv, p.  354, n. 1. This did not prevent him from regaining his freedom relatively quickly afterwards. He was already serving the duke of Berry in October 1372. AN, KK 251, fol. 99r. 116 Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, p. cxv, n. 1 (4 February 1371). For the ransoms of Poitiers, see Chapter 5. 117 TNA, E 404/21/73 (24 March 1406). 118 BL, Add. Ch. 232 (1 March 1406). 119 Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, pp. 27–8. 120 Among these, 20 lt to Maurice Tournemine detained in Rouen, in 1419; 60 eo to Pierre du Pan, in 1425; 60 lt to Guillaume Kergoët at around the same time. Dom P. H. Morice, Mémoires pour servir de preuves à l’histoire civile et ecclésiastique de Bretagne, 3 vols. (Paris, 1742–6), vol. ii, cols. 981, 1195. 121 ‘Les Comptes d’Auffroy Guinot’ (see no. 89). 122 ‘Les Comptes d’Auffroy Guinot’, pp. 44, 67.

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes eo.123 Only 440 eo (= 550 lt) thus remained outstanding, and it was for this amount only that he sought assistance. The king, with the assent of the council, granted him 50 marks (= 200 lt), which was worth 36 per cent of the sum required but less than 9 per cent of the total amount of the ransom. The difference between these two values is even more striking in the case of Sir Thomas Dring. The unfortunate knight had been captured five times in 1446 when he petitioned Henry VI.124 His ransom amounted to £300, of which only £66 remained unpaid – a sum which he claimed not to be ‘in power to paie withoute oure aide’.125 The king graciously provided the full remaining amount, which represented 22 per cent of Dring’s ransom.126 Conclusion A relatively clear model of princely assistance emerges from this distribution of grants. Ransoms were perceived as an honourable misfortune of war which deserved compassion and, potentially, the support of the authorities. However, there was no princely obligation apart from some relatively rare contractual agreements that bound the authorities to help or to free the prisoners. This absence of commitment may have resulted from the progressive introduction of paid military service, which was very much in force in the Hundred Years War. Prisoners who placed hope in the authorities had therefore to take the initiative and engage in the process of petitioning. This involved in some cases the physical presence of the petitioner in the presence of the prince. Loyalty, service and familiarity were key factors for success. This is particularly evident in the Burgundian case, where there was a particularly strong concentration of grants given to members of the household. Who indeed would be closer to, or better serve, a prince than his household? Assistance was also given to key officers, whether or not they were attached to the household of the prince.The over-representation of the nobility in the sample of ducal grants has been interpreted as a reflection of their strong commitment to war, as opposed to the non-noble element of the household, which was associated with the domestic life of the duke. But it can also be seen 123 Order: TNA, E 404/44/306 (8 May 1426). Payment: Issues of the Exchequer, vol.  i, pp.  403–4 (18 May 1428). 124 TNA, E 404/62/217 (18 July 1446). On Dring’s career and his subsequent sixth capture at Formigny in 1450, see English Suits, p. 292. 125 TNA 404/62/217. 126 For other examples of petitions for only a fraction of the prisoner’s ransom, see BL, Add. Ch. 4152 (14 December 1348); TNA, E 404/56/164 (4 February 1440); ADN, B 1982, fol. 172v (24 April 1444).

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Conclusion as a reflection of the social hierarchy. The duke delivered grants to his immediate entourage, who, in turn, distributed the money to their subordinates. This will be discussed further in the next chapter. The grants issued to the elite were handed out relatively parsimoniously. This is well illustrated by the relatively small number of grants rather than by their values, which, as we have seen, are more difficult to interpret.127 This parsimony is easily explained. Princes simply could not afford to give support to all their subjects who were prisoners of the enemy. The development of royal taxation in France in the first half of the fifteenth century, as outlined in Chapter 7, allowed the king to rely on the provinces for the raising of ransom aids in what were difficult times for the French monarchy.128 Yet the shortage of money remained a big issue. In 1434, as we have seen, Charles VII apologised to Jean de Vendôme, vidame de Chartres, to whom he granted 1,000 lt, for not being able to assist him more generously.129 The situation was not much improved by 1453 when Charles ordered eight days’ wages to be taken from the payment of the ‘gens de guerre qui sont a noz gaiges’ (men at war who are waged by us), the sum to be granted to Poton de Xaintrailles so that he could pay the ransoms of his relatives and other men in his company who had been captured at Bordeaux.130 When the cash flow dried up, the prince had to make choices. Assistance to prisoners would not be his top priority, as Guillaume de Journelle, bailli of La Montagne, learned to his cost.131 This Burgundian knight was provided with 800 lt in aid for his ransom in 1430. The money was assigned on the income from Salines in the castellany of Saux. An order of payment was issued, but in the meantime the duke was informed that his castle of Saux needed repair and decided to revoke his grant to allocate the 800 lt to this strategic need. Royal grants on the French or English sides are also very modest in terms of quantity. Had the accounts of the English king’s chamber survived, they may have provided many more examples of gifts. On the king’s chamber in the 1360s and 1370s, see C. Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity (London and New Haven, Conn., 1986), pp. 87–8. The surviving documentation gives hardly any sign of the support of English magnates. See for example Register of Edward the Black Prince Preserved in the Public Record Office, 4 vols. (London, 1930–3); John of Gaunt’s Register, 1371–1375; John of Gaunt’s Register, 1379–1383, E. C. Lodge and R. Somerville, eds., 2 vols. (London, 1937). It is also noticeable that O. Mattéoni does not even mention any grant towards the payment of ransoms of members of the household of the dukes of Bourbon in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. O. Mattéoni, Servir le prince: les officiers des ducs de Bourbon à la fin du moyen âge (1356–1523) (Paris, 1998).There are only a couple of references to grants to prisoners of war in E. Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel, fiches. 128 See Chapter 7. 129 See p. 199. 130 BL, Add Ch 4072 (12 March 1453). These orders were promptly executed. Two weeks later, Xaintrailles gave quittance of 4,500 lt to help him secure the release ‘mes gens qui ont esté prins par les Anglois a la prinse de Bordeaux’. BnF, PO 2356, no. 24 (27 March 1453). 131 BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, no. 29, fol. 48 (9 October 1430). 127

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Assistance to prisoners (II): Kings and princes Financial support was not the whole picture, however. Evidence shows that, on different occasions, princes also helped their subjects in other ways: through the organisation of general or particular exchanges of prisoners,132 through grants of lands, sometimes confiscated from rebels,133 and finally through grants of licences and safe-conducts for trade.134 These alternative forms of assistance should not be interpreted as being in opposition to the emerging model based on financial grants but rather as resulting from the shortage of money. They therefore show another, more charitable, face of the prince who was inclined to help his subjects in different ways when money was lacking. The duke of Burgundy organised an exchange between some French prisoners taken at the battle of Mons-en-Vimeu (31 August 1421) and Burgundian prisoners taken at the siege of Saint-Riquier (August 1421). Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 72. For his purchase of two prisoners held by his men, see ADN, B 1925, fol. 123r (28 December 1421); ADN, B 1925, fol. 123v (4 February 1422). It must be noted, however, that this was not exactly a pure act of charity since the duke obtained the French evacuation of Saint-Riquier through this exchange, as he clearly stated in the second document. As another more striking example, the mutual release of French and Burgundian prisoners seems to have been part of the negotiations at Arras in 1435. AN, JJ 178, no. 82. For particular exchanges of prisoners, see, for instance, the (above-mentioned) example of Gaucourt or of Guillaume Des Bordes who was given to Thomas Felton in 1380. CPR 1377–81, p. 543; Foedera, vol. vii, p. 267 (30 August 1380). 133 Two remarks concerning these grants: first, Michael K. Jones has shown how grants from Norman estates to English subjects were not always easily realised, especially towards the end of the war. Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 228. Second, there was the issue of the return of the contrite rebel in the obedience of the king. See, for instance, RDP, vol. iv, pp. 80–3, no. 503 (November 1370); BnF, PO 501, Brestel, 2 (3 June 1424). 134 These licences and safe-conducts have been discussed in Chapter 6. 132

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Chapter 9

A ss is tanc e to pr iso ners ( III): T he soci al circle of t h e pr is oner

The gap left by the lack of official involvement in the rescue of the majority of prisoners of war had to be filled by their close social circle. This included not only their friends and relatives but also their captain and companions in arms. Our attempt to enter this private area is seriously impeded by the silence, and sometimes the ambiguity, of the sources. The identity of friends, and the very concept of friendship itself, raises problems. There is little doubt that prisoners placed much hope in their friends. ‘Fais ton devoir vers mes amys’ (do your duty towards my friends), Jean Régnier told his pursuivant, ‘que d’icy puisse departir’ (so that I can leave this place).1 Friends were even more instrumental for Jean de Cayeu, who argued in court that ‘les prisonniers ne se peuvent aidier sinon par leurs amis’ (prisoners cannot help themselves; they need their friends).2 What evidence shows is that friends were indeed a key resource to prisoners, who borrowed heavily from them.3 But who exactly were these mysterious friends who remain unidentified in the sources? Who, in fact, were considered as friends? In other words, what is friendship in the late Middle Ages? English historians have traditionally seen friendship in the light of patronage, dwelling upon the vertical links underlying the relationship, a view which has some justification and which still finds some echo in recent studies.4 Claude Gauvard, however, has highlighted the importance of friendship between equals, which was at the same time highly codified and strongly effective, to the extent that the notion of 1 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 53. 2 Bossuat, ‘Les Prisonniers de Beauvais’, p. 30. 3 See, for instance, BnF, PO 111, Aspremont2, 12 (24 June 1421); BnF, Ms. Fr. 26044, no.  5771 (8 October 1422); BnF, Ms. Fr. 26050, no.  759 (13 August 1427); AN, X1a 4796, fol.  110r (June 1429); AN, X1a 4798, fol. 190rv (28 April 1440); BL, Add. Ch. 12211 (6 March 1444). For prisoners who claimed to have asked their friends before the crown, see, for instance, TNA, E 404/56/164 (4 February 1440), 66/217 (28 August 1450). 4 See, for instance, the article of O. Mattéoni, ‘Ami’, in C. Gauvard, A. de Libera and M. Zink, eds., Dictionnaire du moyen âge (Paris, 2002), pp. 50–1.

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle friends and relatives can be intermingled within letters of remission in France.5 Along the same lines, Philippa Maddern argued that ‘some gentry, in their ordinary daily business, may have actively avoided magnates, seeking instead the support of close, reciprocal, functional relationships among their neighbours, kin and marriage connections.’6 Ransom cases do not shed any clearer light on friendship. Guillaume Garnier said that he made the utmost efforts to raise the money for his ransom by way of loans or otherwise towards ‘his friends and others’ living in and around Evreux.7 It seems reasonable to consider here that relatives were included in the group of friends, while ‘others’ consisted of individuals who did not enjoy any special relationship with the prisoner. This assimilation of friends with relatives is by no means the rule, however.8 Sir John Fastolf reminded John Rafman that he had paid ‘for hese fynaunce and raunson 100 marks … where all the maysteres and frendz that ever he hadde wold noght a don it’.9 This may be evidence of a distinction between masters (in this case, a superior or lord of the prisoner) and friends, or, in other words, between vertical and horizontal relationships, with friendship belonging to the latter. However, medieval people had a tendency to multiply words to come to a closer definition (in so far, at least, as the French language was concerned).10 Following this line, Fastolf may have meant that no master who entertained a friendly relationship with Rafman would have been as generous as he himself had been, implying that some masters were not friends with their men. Some verses of Jean Régnier provide further, and perhaps firmer, evidence of a master–servant or patron–client relationship being regarded as friendship: Je trouvay plus secours en mes amys acquis / Quë en tous mes parens, tant fussent bien requis; / Louer dois Dieu de l’eure que telz amys conquis. / Philippe, le bon duc de Bourgogne, mon maistre, / De ses biens m’a voulu tres largement repaistre … Des grans biens qu’i m’a faiz bien doy estre contant, / Car par luy suis delivrer … qui bon maistre sert bon loyer en attend.11

C. Gauvard, ‘De grace especial’, vol. ii, pp. 674–8. P. Maddern, ‘“Best Trusted Friends”: Concepts and Practices of Friendship Among Fifteenth-Century Norfolk Gentry’, in N. Rogers, ed., England in the Fifteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1992 Harlaxton Symposium (Stamford, 1994), pp. 100–16, at p. 100.  7 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 150–3, no. 63 (November 1424).  8 See, for instance, TNA, C 76/134, m. 2 (23 June 1452); 136, m. 6 (4 December 1453).  9 K. B. McFarlane, ‘The Investment of Sir John Fastolf ’s Profits of War’, TRHS, 5th series, 7 (1957), 91–116; reprinted in his England in the Fifteenth Century: Collected Essays (London, 1981), pp. 175– 99, at p. 193, n. 89; Jones, ‘Ransom Brokerage’, p. 230 (12 May 1448). 10 Nabert, Les Réseaux d’alliance, pp. 56–7; Gonzales, Un prince en son hôtel, p. 57. 11 Régnier, Les Fortunes, p. 167.  5  6

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle I found more help in my friends than in all my relatives who had been well solicited. Praise the lord for the time when I made such friends. Philip, the good duke of Burgundy, my master, had very generously drawn on his resources … I am happy with the great good that he has done to me, for, thanks to him, I am free … He who serves a good master can expect good succour in return.

Philip the Good, Régnier’s master, was praised as a most commendable friend who had paid his way out of prison, in contrast with his relatives, who had done nothing. (In passing, relatives are here clearly differentiated from friends.) These examples show friendship as an effective or, at least, a caring relationship which could exist in very different contexts, even between a lord and his subject. Henry VI’s letters to Sir John Knyvet, in 1438, are thus all the more intriguing.12 Elizabeth, Knyvet’s wife, begged the king to consider the case of her husband who had endured a long imprisonment and was not able to pay his ransom out of his own resources. He badly needed the assistance of his friends, but ‘it is soo that they well not doo for hym daubtyng that he shulde for certain causes stande oute of oure grace at his commyng in to this oure Royaume.’13 Elizabeth consequently asked the king to issue letters accepting her husband as his true liege. Unfortunately, the content of Henry’s grant is not specific enough to tell what had made Knyvet fall into disgrace. (Could it have been military failure overseas?) This case shows friendship under a different light: a codified and pragmatic relationship rooted in the public sphere. This indefinable nature of friendship, coupled with the fact that friends are only exceptionally named in the documents, makes it a difficult area of study. It is possible to speculate over existing friendships between prisoners and their supporters, but this speculation would be fruitless since it is inspired by modern standards of friendship. The problem needs to be addressed differently. The assistance to prisoners – or, at least, the will to assist prisoners – can be taken as a necessary condition for certain individuals to be considered as friends. This, after all, is the common point between the different definitions of friendship. The following investigations are therefore focused on the most favourable grounds for the emergence of this friendship, understood here as a sense of solidarity, within two identifiable environments of the prisoner: his military company and his family.Who was more likely to come to the aid of the prisoner within these circles, and what help might be given?



 TNA, PSO 1/5/298 (6 June 1438).  TNA, PSO 1/5/298 (6 June 1438).

12 13

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle Cap tains and the ir m e n It is tempting to believe that, by and large, captains assisted the payment of the ransoms of their men. Anthony Pollard, for example, yielded to this temptation when he stated, without any evidence, that John Talbot could have contributed to the ransoms of members of his personal retinue in 1443.14 Is it right to raise such expectations in the absence of firm evidence? Recent studies of English recruitment have produced some surprising results that disprove any form of solidarity between captains and soldiers. Simon Walker and Anthony Goodman have shown through studies of sub-indentures of war between captains and their retainers in 1374 and 1380 that John Strother and Hugh Hastings coldly profited at the expense of their men by not passing on the full amount of the wages that were assigned to them by the crown.15 This prompts questions about a captain’s inclination to help his men in trouble. There are also figures produced by Adrian Bell relating to the composition of two English armies recruited one year apart, in 1387 and 1388.16 Only a fifth of the soldiers who participated in the first campaign went back to war the following year. The soldiers who did enrol a second time were not necessarily serving under the same captain.This is particularly noticeable at lower echelons of the hierarchy where 62 per cent of the esquires (i.e. men-at-arms) and 71 per cent of the archers did not serve under the same captain twice. It must be noted that some captains who took up arms in the first campaign did not serve in the second, so that some of the troops were bound to serve under someone else. Nevertheless, the figures are particularly eloquent for the archers: 29 per cent served with the same retinue captain in 1387 and 1388; 34 per cent had no other choice but to enrol with a different captain because their previous captain was not present in 1388; but no less than 37 per cent decided not to fight under the same captain in 1388 as in 1387 even though the latter was serving again. In this particular case, it is clear that the first expedition had not created personal bonds between captains and their men. Whether under these circumstances captains would have paid, or helped to pay, the ransom of their men is open to question. These figures are intriguing; however, it is premature to draw any final conclusion concerning the patterns of service and their implications in terms of esprit de corps and assistance to prisoners of war. An in-depth 14 A. J. Pollard, John Talbot and the War in France, 1427–1453 (London, 1983), p. 115. 15 A. Goodman, ‘The Military Subcontracts of Sir Hugh Hastings, 1380’, EHR, 95 (1980), 114–20; Walker, ‘Profit and Loss’, pp. 100–6. 16 See Tables 10–3 in A. Bell, War and the Soldier in the Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 96–101.

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Captains and their men investigation of the composition of the armies over a longer period of time may produce some more meaningful results.17 Evidence of a captain’s refusal to assist his men who had been taken prisoner is, however, rare. The only example so far detected is thanks to Froissart.18 Some English companions garrisoned in the Auvergne decided around 1390 to leave their fortress to raid the countryside. They were taken prisoner by the French, led to Montferrand and ransomed. Some were released on parole and went to their captain to ask for money for their ransoms. The captain refused, arguing that the raid had been on their own initiative; he did not ask them to go and therefore considered that he had nothing to do with it: ‘ilz ont chevauchiet a leur aventure.… que aventure les delivre!’ (they set off in search of adventure … let adventure free them!). The opinion of this captain is reflected in the official policy about the deduction of wages of men who left their garrison in pursuit of their own profit.19 This, it must be noted, does not prove a fundamental reluctance of captains to help their men. On the contrary, this captain was willing to justify his position, which suggests that had his men been taken prisoner while fighting under him, he would have helped them. Many a captain, such as Regnault Guillem, would feel close enough to his men not to tolerate their executions whilst in the hands of the enemy. But to what extent would he be inclined to contribute to their release?20 There is evidence of captains who assisted their men, but its patchy and scattered nature does not greatly enhance our understanding of the practice. The financial records of royal or princely governments provide one source of information. They show that, on some occasions, the authorities granted money to retainers as a means of helping them to pay the ransoms of their men.The Burgundian sample used in Chapter 8 includes three such cases. Alexandre Blaisy, an esquire of the duke, was granted 200 fo in contribution for the ransoms of five esquires in his company who had been captured before Rougemont, in September 1411.21 Blaisy, himself, who had been taken prisoner on the same occasion, received three times this amount for his person alone.22 At about the same time, Boquet de Lattre, another esquire of the duke, received 200 fo for his own ransom and that of his four varlets.23 Finally, Guillaume d’Oiselar, a third 17 The forthcoming publication (including a monograph) of the project ‘Soldier in Later Medieval England’ by A. Curry, A Bell, A. King and A. Chapman should shed full light on these patterns of service. 18 Froissart, SHF, vol. xiv, p. 202; Contamine, ‘Compagnies d’aventure’, p. 366. 19 See pp. 210–11. 20 Livre des miracles, pp. 55–7, no. 104 (11 June 1428). 21 ACO, B 1570, fol. 190; Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 888 (12 November 1411). 22 ACO, B 1570, fol. 163r; Schnerb, ‘Aspects’, p. 888 (12 November 1411). 23 ADN, B 1894, fol. 200 rv (18 March 1412).

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle esquire of the duke, was granted 600 so in 1434 for his own ransom and that of seven men-at-arms.24 (It is not explicitly mentioned in this last case that Oiselar was the captain of these men-at-arms.) In each case the ducal retainer had also been taken prisoner, thus creating the following scenario. Once freed, the three esquires came to the duke seeking assistance for the payment of their ransom first. Moved by the story of these men, John the Fearless and Philip the Good agreed to help not only them but also their men. Whether or not this scenario is the right one, there is reason to believe that if the retainer had not been taken prisoner and had not petitioned the duke, his retainees might never have seen a ducal penny! From this point of view, however, the Burgundian sample is not necessarily representative of the general practice in France. The accounts of the duke of Brittany for the years 1430–5 also include three examples of grants to retainers for their retainees. In each case the retainer had not been captured by the enemy; he petitioned the duke and received money for his men only.25 These Breton accounts therefore offer evidence of a more convincing act of support from captains towards their men. Charles VII’s grant to Poton de Xaintrailles in March 1452, to help pay the ransom of his nephews and other relatives, all prisoners of the English, deserves close attention since all these members of his family were also members of his company, as the same document clearly states. Blood relations within French or English military companies were not uncommon and may have been a strong factor for unity and mutual assistance. On the other hand, in this particular case, the grant, and thus the petition, clearly concerns those members of Xaintrailles’ company who were his relatives. In any case, one question remains that concerns all these grants: would these captains or retainers have helped their men if they had not received money from the authorities?26 Various narrative sources show that some captains contributed to the payment of the ransoms of their men or certainly made every effort to help them. In his poetical account of the life of Du Guesclin, Cuvelier reported that Jean de Kerlouet paid the ransom of all his men within three months after their capture at the battle of Lussac on 31 December 1369.27 Froissart tells us that Bertrand’s brother, Olivier, also paid the ransoms 24 BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 29, fol. 32 (9 October 1434). 25 ‘Les Comptes d’Auffroy Guinot’, pp. 66–7, 84. 26 The 3,034 fo delivered by Alan Buxhill to various English prisoners in 1371, which were eventually paid by the Exchequer, raise the same question. TNA, E 101/30/38 (3 June 1371). For a fuller discussion of this record, see p. 224. 27 Cuvelier, Chronique, vol. ii, p. 207. According to Froissart, Kerlouet was aided by Charles V to pay his ransom and return to his garrison at Saint-Salvin. He was released by 1370 when he participated in the capture of Châtellerault. Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, pp. 206, 208, 212.

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Treaties of surrender of all those taken prisoner with him in the woods near Cherbourg, in December 1378.28 For the fifteenth century, the semi-fictional Le Jouvencel makes two interesting references. A first episode shows its main actor falling into the hands of the enemy and highlights the payment of his ransom by his captain. In a second episode, Le Jouvencel, now a captain himself, committed to pay the ransoms of his men in the event of their capture.29 The eulogistic nature of the work of Cuvelier, the at-times-fantasist tendencies of Froissart and the didactical nature of Le Jouvencel need to be borne in mind when considering these testimonies, but at least they show that a ‘good’ captain would come to the aid of his men. Documentary evidence of such aid, however, is slim. In his petition to the king in the late 1370s, Matthew Gournay stated that he had been taken prisoner three times.30 Following his last capture in Poitou, the English knight claimed that he paid for himself and all the men of his company ‘to the great impediment of his condition’.31 A quittance of Perrinet Gressart, in 1426, reveals that Georges de la Trémoïlle had paid the ransom of one of his men, Galobie de Panassac.32 Rodrigo de Villandrando’s assistance to his men is not as overtly stated, but it can be deduced from a grant of safe-conducts from the king of Castile, in 1439. In these the king authorised Villandrando to trade with England as a way of compensating him for the ransoms of several men in his company who had been captured by the English during a journey to Spain.33 The assistance of Thomas Kirkeby to his men is also suggested in his grant from the English government in June 1423.34 The esquire was given the barony of Méry in compensation for his services and most notably at Mortain (date unknown) and Bernay (August 1422) where he was taken prisoner with several archers and others in his retinue. Why would the government mention the capture of Kirkeby’s men in this grant if it was not implied that the esquire had helped them to pay their ransom? Treatie s of surre nde r Negotiations and treaties for the evacuations of towns and fortresses offer a more compelling demonstration of assistance from a captain to his men, or, perhaps more accurately, of mutual support between the captain and Froissart, SHF, vol. ix, p. 98; Given-Wilson, ‘The Ransom of Olivier du Guesclin’, p. 18. 29 Le Jouvencel, vol. i, pp. 74–8, vol. ii, pp. 218–19. 30 TNA, SC 8/113/5629 (c. 1377–c. 1380). 31 TNA, SC 8/113/5629 (c. 1377–c. 1380). 32 Les La Trémoïlle, vol. i, p. 136; Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 69, n. 2 (31 May 1426). 33 Quicherat, Villandrando, pp. 325–7. 34 AN, Coll. Lenoir, 3/370 (26 June 1423). 28

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle his men. But first there is a need to demonstrate that these negotiations, and the decision-making process in general, were in the hands of the captains and their men.35 The authorities were behind some of these negotiations, especially when the king himself was participating in the expedition, such as was the case for Henry V after 1417.36 On other occasions, it is unlikely that the authorities were party to the negotiations, especially in so far as the besieged were concerned. The 1370s and 1380s offer examples of English captains who saw themselves compelled to justify before the English parliament not only the terms of surrender of the places of which they had been put in charge but also their decision to surrender at all. This was the case for William Weston for the castle of Audruicq (October 1377); John, lord of Gommegnies for Ardres (October 1377); Peter Cressingham and John Spikesworth for the castle of Drincham (October 1383); and Sir William Elmham, Sir Thomas Trivet, Sir Henry Ferrers, Sir William Farringdon and Robert FitzRalph for the surrender of Bourbourg (October 1383).37 The royal displeasure with Gommegnies and Weston was such that they were sentenced to death but the king subsequently pardoned the former and released him by the end of December 1377.38 However standardised surviving treaties of surrender may look at first sight, they were usually the result of intense negotiations. The French soldiers in garrison in the castle of Torcy were all taken prisoner following their capitulation in 1430, and some of them were eventually beheaded.39 Cousinot, who told their story, held them responsible for this disaster, for, in his mind, they had agreed very foolish terms of surrender. An inquiry into the chaotic storming of the town of Castillon in July 1453 gives an interesting insight into the process of negotiation between besiegers and besieged.40 This fascinating document includes twelve depositions of witnesses. The following description is given by a French knight, Rue Dessepeaux, who acted as a messenger during the 35 I will develop this whole issue of negotiation and collective surrender more extensively within the framework of a new project funded by an Early Career Fellowship of the Leverhulme Trust on ‘The Crisis of Capitulation: Surrender of Castles and Urban Communities’ (c. 1400–1450). 36 During the invasion of Normandy, Henry V masterminded some negotiations even when he was not leading the operations. See, for instance, the treaty of surrender of the castle of Neuilly-l’Evêque, sealed by Gilbert Umfraville, on Henry’s behalf, in May 1418, where it appeared that the French captain and four others who had previously been sent before Henry V at Bayeux during the time of the negotiations would be put at the king’s mercy. ‘Rôles normands’, p. 22, no. 142 (15 May 1418). 37 PROME, vol. vi, pp. 21–6, 331, 338–40. 38 CPR 1377–1381, p. 124 (28 December 1377). 39 Cousinot, Chronique, p. 468. 40 BnF, Coll. Duchesne, no. 108, fol. 35–46.

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Treaties of surrender negotiations.41 Informed of the progress of an English relieving force, the French besiegers decided that it was time for them to enter into negotiations with the Anglo-Gascons besieged in Castillon. They made a harsh proposal through the intermediary of the lord of Aymet: all the besieged would be prisoners at the king’s mercy and the Gascons among them would have their inheritances confiscated. Aymet returned avecques certains articles que ceulx de dedens demandoient qui estoit fort desraisonnable comme il sembla a tous et furent corrigez en ceste forme: c’est assavoir qu’ilz seroient tous prisonniers a la mercy du roy, leurs vies sauves et quicteroient tous scellez [i.e. obligations] et promesses [most probably from prisoners who were in their hands] et, pour le faire brief, leur fut envoyé a ceulx de dedens ce traicté et qu’ilz n’en auroient point d’autre et, la chose bien debatue, ilz l’accorderent42 with some articles which those inside requested, but which were very unreasonable as it seemed to everybody; they were corrected in this form: that is to say, they would all be prisoners at the king’s mercy, their lives would be spared and they would quit all seals and promises and, to cut things short, this treaty was sent to those inside, they were told they would not have another one and, after some debate, they agreed to it.

This testimony shows the lack of involvement by the French or English governments. It also highlights the significance of negotiations and reveals the concerns of the French commanders to free their men from any obligation towards their captors.43 This concern was not unusual. Joan of Arc gives another more vivid illustration of it. The treaty for the capitulation of Troyes in 1429 anticipated that all the Burgundian soldiers could leave the town freely together with their French prisoners.44 The Maid of Orléans objected to this decision at the point the Burgundians departed and required the French prisoners to be released in return for compensation to their masters.45 The issue of prisoners of war in the hands of the enemy was often the object of a clause in the treaty of surrender. At various stages of the war, French and English forces, who were alternatively besieged and besiegers, took the opportunity to release their men, companions or leaders who BnF, Coll. Duchesne, no. 108, fol. 39rv. 42 BnF, Coll. Duchesne, no. 108, fol. 39v. 43 For other private negotiations without external intervention, see the surrender of Châteaudun where the English captains fixed the amount of the ransom of their men. BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 147, no. 81 (29 August 1449). 44 Cousinot, Chronique, p. 319. 45 According to a letter of Jean de Châtillon, lord of Troissy, the Burgundians received a mark of silver for each prisoner. Procès de condamnation et de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc dite la Pucelle, J. Quicherat, ed., 5 vols. (Paris, 1841–9), vol. iv, pp. 296–7; Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, p. 206. 41

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle had fallen into the hands of the enemy.The release of captives against the payment of their ransoms was not common (examples are Saint-Sauveur, 1375, and Troyes, 1429). It might have been that prisoners who had already agreed with their captor on the price of their ransom by the time of the treaty of surrender would be compelled to pay it (Compiègne, 1422), which is reminiscent of the terms of the peace settlement of Brétigny-Calais in 1360.46 More regularly, however, the unconditional release of all or some of the prisoners would be demanded. Occasionally, the two parties would agree on the release of the prisoners of both sides (Véretz, 1360), but this was not the most common procedure.47 The balance of power between the two parties was more often uneven and led to the privileging of only one side. Most commonly, the besiegers, as the French at Castillon, required the release of prisoners in the hands of the besieged without any concession on their part.This applied during the English invasion of Normandy (Carentan, 1418; Hambye, 1418; Pontd’Ouve, 1418; Caudebec, 1418; Gournay, 1419; Montivilliers, 1419; Eu, 1419; Caudebec, 1419, Rouen, 1419)48 and during the French reconquest (Caen, 1450; Cherbourg, 1450; Montguyon, 1451).49 On other occasions, the besieged agreed to evacuate their places in return for money and for the release of one or several companions (Thury, 1371; Esse, 1377; Arques, 1450).50 Sometimes they asked for the release of prominent figures, often their captains, and this might be the sole condition for their departure: John Devereux and others were released in exchange for the evacuation of La Roche-sur-Yon (1373),51 John Cresswell and Thomas Percy, for Lusignan (1374);52 John Merbury (part of the conditions), for the town 46 L. Carolus-Barré, ‘Compiègne et la guerre, 1414–1430’, in La ‘France anglaise’, pp.  386–92, at pp. 388–9; Poitiers, p. 156. 47 Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 441, n. 218. 48 It must be noted here that a great number of treaties of surrender during the invasion have survived. Rotuli Normanniae, pp. 287–9, 300–3; ‘Rôles normands’, no. 84, 86, 226, 268, 296, 327, 343. 49 For Rouen and Montguyon, see Contamine, ‘Rançons et butins’, p.  245 and n.  20. For Caen (1450), see AN, K 68, no.  45. For Cherbourg (1450), see Chronique du Mont-St-Michel, vol.  ii, pp.  237–9, no.  290. See also the examples of Zenenberghe (1426) and Saint-Denis (1435) in Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 256–7; vol. v, pp. 184–7. 50 For Thury, see BnF, Ms. Fr. 26011, no. 1282 (31 April 1371) and BnF, PO 2876, Trémagon, 3 (25 May 1371); for Esse, see Mandements et actes divers de Charles V, 1364–1380, Delisle, ed., pp. 434–5, no. 846. for Arques, see BL, Add. Ch. 151 (9 March 1450). 51 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, pp. 113–14; Cuvelier, Chronique, vol. ii, p. 311; Lehoux, Jean de France, vol. i, pp. 313–14. His ransom was estimated at 10,000 fo. At the very least, this was the sum that several French lords were bound to pay to the masters of Devereux, Du Guesclin, Jean Macé and Alain du Parc; Letters, Orders and Musters, pp. 214–15 (no. 577), 223 (no. 597), 226 (no. 608), 262–3 (no. 709), 265 (no. 715). 52 On this treaty of surrender, see Lehoux, Jean de France, vol. i, pp. 337–43. Berry provided a certificate to Percy in which he released him from his oath as a prisoner, on 2 October 1374. See also TNA, E 101/178/20.

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Companions, partners and brothers-in-arms and castle of Gisors (1450);53 Osbert Mundeford (part of the conditions?), for Fresnay-le-Vicomte (1450).54 We would expect this mutual support between a captain and his men to have been even stronger in the milieu of the Great Companies, since their members were in danger of being executed in the event of their capture. Thus, in 1360, a Breton company lodged in a small fort on a bridge leading to Meung-sur-Loire fought hard for the release of their captain, and eventually succeeded in return for their evacuation of the fort.55 But the looming prospect of death could also bring out the worst of mankind, as illustrated by Waleran de Saint-Germain, who saved his life at the expense of the forty ‘saquemans’ under him thanks to the negotiations for the surrender of the castle of Le Quesnoy, in 1422.56 This last example should be considered as a refinement to an overly optimistic portrait of assistance as revealed in treaties of surrender. C ompanions, part ne r s and broth e r s - i n - arm s The sources often refer to companions (or socii in Latin) when they mean combatants. Etymologically, companions (from the Latin, cum panem) shared the same bread. This term had not necessarily lost its original meaning by the end of the Middle Ages, but the reality it covered was more complex. In so far as military society was concerned, companions were men who fought together for a limited amount of time, this limit in time clearly differentiating companionship from friendship.57 Companions were not necessarily all of the same rank since they could also include a captain. Here companionship merged with the structure of a military unit, as in the French company or ‘route’. This military unit was, in all likelihood, the most common framework of companionship. We can read in Jean II le Bon’s ordinances of war of 1351, for example, that the chieftain of the route was expected to review his companions 53 Jaques de Clermont, esquire, bailli de Caen, acknowleged the receipt of 2,250 lt given to him by the king as compensation for the ransom of 1,500 eo that his prisoner, John Merbury, owed to him, since the prisoner was used as a bargaining chip for the English evacuation of towns and castles of Gisors. BnF, Coll. Clairambault, 152, no. 80 (10 January 1451). 54 A receipt from the bâtard of Orléans, count of Dunois and Longueville, Great Chamberlain of France, to Macé de Lannoy, for 700 lt granted to him by the king for the ransom of Osborn Mondefort, his prisoner, lately captain of Fresnay-le-Vicomte, delivered by order of the king for the reduction of the said place. BL, Add. Ch. 152 (January 1451). 55 Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 282–3. 56 ‘Et Waleran de Saint-Germain leur capitaine, qui a brief dire les trahy et leur fist entendre qu’ils auroient leurs vies saulves, fist son traictié par ainsi qu’il s’en yroit et auroit bon et seur sauf-conduit.’ Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 83–5. 57 Gauvard, ‘De grace especial’, vol. ii, pp. 680–2.

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle under him one by one.58 In this example, companionship simply referred to a state or status: being part of a company.59 In general, military companionship was not a meaningful relationship that tied soldiers together (in some instances, the term ‘companion’ was simply substituted for ‘combatant’ in the sources without any reference to the idea of companionship).The reason why Jean de Camprémy and Robinet le Fauconnier stuck together when the former left soldiering to embark on trading activities is to be found less in their former companionship-in-arms, as Timbal suggests, than in their friendship, to which a clear reference was made in the trial that opposed Camprémy to Thomas Staffort in 1367. 60 Likewise, the claim of William Bucton in 1434 that he had purchased the rights over a French prisoner in order to release four of his ‘companions’, prisoners of the enemy, suggests that the ties between Bucton and these men were stronger than mere companionship.61 More binding relationships between combatants arose within military society when they were not artificially formed. The ‘compagnie à butin’ (profit-based company) for example, is fairly well documented. It was a companionship based on a fair share of the spoils of war. It could be ordered by captains or superior commanders at the start of a battle as a way of avoiding soldiers breaking rank in pursuit of their own interests.62 But it was also, and perhaps mainly, an initiative of the combatants themselves. It usually applied for a single encounter, being sealed on the eve of the battle or even improvised in the heat of the fight, either deliberately, as a way of maximising forces to seize more spoils, or forcibly, as a way to protect one’s gains against the avidity of fellow soldiers.63 These 58 Contamine, Guerre, état, p. 81. For later examples of captains and his companions, see Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 281, 437–9; Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 155; AN, X1a 9199, fol. 335rv; also quoted in Little, The Parlement of Poitiers, pp. 172–3 (7 December 1430). 59 On the ‘Great Companies’ in the margin of the official companies or routes, see Contamine, ‘Les Compagnies d’aventure’, pp. 365–96. 60 See p. 180. 61 AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (22 December 1434). 62 It was at the level of the company in Le Jouvencel, vol. ii, pp. 126, 216. For a captain associated with his garrison, see also AN, X2a 7, fol. 63vo; published in Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 270–2, from 19 March 1362. Towards the end of the century, the lord of Aubigny recommended the whole army to be à butin. Stuart, Traité, pp. 8–9, 20. 63 ‘Vous et moy, a butin’, Dunois is said to have shouted to the seneschal of France during the siege of Châteaudun, in 1449. BnF, Ms. Fr. 4054, fol. 147, no. 81 (20 August 1449). The storming of Le Mans offers the more striking example of companionships à butin sealed in the heat of the fight. AN, X1a 4795, fol. 324v–325 (31 August 1428); also published in English Suits, pp. 205–8. Le Jouvencel (vol. i, pp. 222, 225; vol. ii, pp. 96–7) also gives some vivid descriptions of these companionships and the problems that might result. Several French soldiers were said to be ‘consors en ceste partie’ in reference to their alliance for a single encounter in the early 1350s. AN, X1c 5b, no. 80; published in Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 331–5 (3 July 1351). See also AN, X1a, 9193, fol. 157r (4 August 1436); AN, X1a, 4798, fol. 50r (1439), in which these last-minute companionships are suggested.

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Companions, partners and brothers-in-arms ‘compagnies à butin’ could be planned on shorter or longer terms. Small bands of soldiers, like a group of archers from Fresnay-le-Vicomte in 1433, might agree to share their spoils before they left their garrison to raid the country in search of booty and ransoms.64 A larger-scale expedition was led by joint forces, ‘gentilzhommes et autres gens d’armes’ (gentlemen and other men-at-arms), from the garrisons of La Ferté-Bernard and Pescheré in 1425.65 Their common booty, including prisoners of war, was in the hands of a ‘butinier’ who was in charge of sharing out the spoils but who often encountered difficulties in so doing.66 Finally, there were long-term partnerships. The association of the knights Boort de Nantouillet and Raoul Tesson is a good example: these two men, as we read in an agreement between Tesson and Nantouillet’s widow in 1379, avoient fait et contraict compaignie ensemble et volu accordé que tout ce qu’il gaingneroient et prendroient sur les ennemis, tant en personnes comme autrement, feust commun entre eulx et que chascun en eust la moitié en quelque part et lieu qu’il feust et, en signe de ce, s’estoient entredonnez chascun un quartier de leurs armes had made and contracted company together and agreed that everything they won and took from the enemy, as much in prisoners as other things, would be held in common and divided in two equal parts, no matter where they were and, as a token, they had given one another a quarter of their arms.67

It was perhaps a similar long-term association based on a share of the profits that united Raoul de Renneval and Enguerran d’Eudin in the early 1370s.68 The legal case that reveals this partnership concerned the accidental capture of a prisoner by a falconer of Renneval. Eudin took no part in it and was not even present when it happened. Nevertheless, Renneval

64 BnF, Ms. Fr. 25771, no. 780 (28 June 1433). See also BnF, Ms. Fr. 25768, no. 298 (29 September 1428) for another possible reference to such compagnie à butin and also Contamine, ‘Les Compagnies d’aventure’, p. 366. 65 Archives Départementales d’Eure-et-Loir, E 2724; quoted in R. Charles, ‘L’Invasion anglaise dans le Maine, de 1417 à 1428’, Revue Historique et Archéologique du Maine, 25 (1889), 62–103, 167–208, 305–27, p. 176, n.4 (1425). 66 For other mentions of a butinier, see Schnerb, Bulgnéville, pp.  96–7 (1433), Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, vol.  i, p.  41, n.  3 (23 December 1441); Contamine, ‘Rancons et butins’, pp. 247–8. For a mention of masters of the booty, see BnF, Ms. Fr. 25769, no. 580bis (29 March 1430). 67 AN, X1c 38, no. 32, D.-F. Secousse, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Charles II, roi de Navarre et comte d’Evreux, surnommé le Mauvais (Paris, 1758), p.  368; Timbal et al., La Guerre, p.  269, n.  21 (15 February 1379). Tesson’s reluctance to pay Nantouillet’s share of a prisoner to the latter’s widow ended in court, but the two parties made an agreement, the widow receiving 175 fo on 5 May 1379. AN, X1a 28, fol. 55r. 68 AN, X1a, 22, fol. 259; published in Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 322–9 (9 August 1371).

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle insisted that he would not make any decision without consulting his socius in armis.69 As one can imagine, these companionships based on a share of the profits were not propitious to the development of strong ties of solidarity within military society. This is revealed by the fact that many of these associations of soldiers are known to us because of litigation that arose between the so-called companions.70 Such disputes could be a source of disruption within the ranks of an army. The argument of the captain of Dreux for not sending his forces to the siege of Tancarville in 1438 was partly framed along these lines.71 Some of his men were in conflict with William Neville, Lord Fauconberg, over prisoners of war. He feared that ‘debat et grant noise se feussent meuz, s’ilz fussent alez audit siege entre ceulx d’icelle garnison et autres ainsi que autreffoiz avoit esté fait en assemblée de gens de guerre telement que pour les causes dessusdictes’ (if they had come to the siege, debates and great noise would have arisen between these men of his garrison and others, as had occurred in the past within an assembly of men-at-war for such reasons).72 Such discords, aroused by envy, could even cause the break-up of a company. This was the opinion of the character of the king of France in Antoine de la Salle’s story of Jehan de Saintré (c. 1456–60): ‘mais d’une chose a tous je vous prie, du plus grant au plus petit, que vous soyez amis et freres, sans envies, sans debatz et sans noises, car par ce sont mainteffoiz les compaignies romppues, et a grant deshonneur villainement finies’ (but I ask one thing of all of you, from the greatest to the most humble: be friends and brothers, avoid jealousies, discussions and disputes which all too often break up companies and lead to a dishonourable end).73 Charles VII cleverly discharged responsibility for the payment of the ransoms of the relatives of Poton de Xaintrailles onto the leadership of the military society, alleging that ‘volentiers les chiefz et cappitaines de guerre ont acoustumé estre liberaulx a aider les ungs aux autres quant aucune fortune ou adversité leur seurvient en fait de guerre’ (chieftains 69 For another longer-term association sealed between four defenders of Mont-Saint-Michel in May 1439 which was subsequently broken by their captain, see Luce, La France pendant la guerre, pp. 217–79. 70 See for instance, Charles, ‘L’Invasion anglaise dans le Maine’, p. 176, n. 4 (1425); AN, X1a 4795, fol. 324v–325 (31 August 1428); Le Jouvencel, vol. i, p. 225, vol. ii, pp. 96–7, 215. 71 A. Curry, ‘The Organisation of Field Armies in Lancastrian Normandy’, in M. Strickland, ed., Armies, Chivalry and Warfare in Medieval Britain and France (Stamford, 1998), pp. 207–31, at p. 229. 72 BL, Add. Ch. 11992 (29 April 1438). 73 A. de la Sale, Jehan de Saintré, J. Blanchard and M. Quereuil, ed. (Paris, 2007), pp. 356–7. Unlike the authors, I believe that the French word for company does mean the military company in this instance and should not be translated (in modern French) by ‘concorde entre les hommes’. On this reference to Saintré, see also Vale, War and Chivalry, p. 156.

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Companions, partners and brothers-in-arms and captains of war are usually willing to be generous and help one another when they face bad luck and adversity in war).74 If this claim is taken at face value, rather than as an example of a king trying to save money, it offers evidence for a network of solidarity existing at the top level of the military hierarchy. At a lower level, indications are infrequent, but, occasionally, sources reveal acts of friendship between soldiers linked to ransom assistance. If Thomas Rempston, for example, saw the endorsement of his petitions by the commons in October 1435, it was most probably thanks to his near friend and neighbour, John Bowes, who, as we have seen, was speaker for the commons in that session of the parliament.75 Geoffrey Harper, an archer in the garrison of Tombelaine, is recorded in the counter-rolls of the third quarter of 1437 as having left the garrison from 1 to 16 September ‘pour tenir plege et hostaige au Mont Saint Michiel pour ung galloys de la garnison de Baieux’ (to be pledge and hostage at Mont-Saint-Michel for a Welshman of the garrison of Bayeux).76 Replacing a prisoner in prison was a risky business which only relatives or friends would do for each other. This remark does not apply, of course, to prisoners who were forced to act as formal pledges for the release of other prisoners whose mission was to raise their ransom. What of the ancient institution of brotherhood-in-arms? Was it fiction or reality? It was long believed that the arms intertwined on a joint tombstone in Greece dating from the late fourteenth century were those of a wife and her husband.77 It has since been established that it refers to two men who once bore these arms, two English knights to be precise: the former admiral of England, William Neville, and the poet John Clanvowe, who were undoubtedly sworn brothers-in-arms. Their long friendship in the 1370s and 1380s, as well as their acquaintance with Geoffrey Chaucer and the high position they enjoyed at the court of Richard II are well known. The early years of their friendship, on the other hand, are less well known. The first mention of them in the sources dates back to the expedition of Robert Knolles in 1370, which ended disastrously for the English with a defeat at Pontvallain in December.78 The two knights were taken prisoner and seem to have shared a three-month-long captivity, which ended when 74 BL, Add. Ch. 4072 (12 March 1453). 75 See p. 208. 76 BnF, Ms Fr 25773, no. 1143 (September 1437); also quoted in A. Curry, ‘Isolated or Integrated? The English Soldier in Lancastrian Normandy’, in S. Rees Jones, R. Marks and A. J. Minnis, eds., Courts and Regions of Medieval Europe (York, 2000), pp. 191–210, at p. 206. 77 For this and what follows, unless otherwise stated, see S. Düll, A. Luttrell and M. Keen, ‘Faithful unto Death: The Tomb Slab of Sir William Neville and Sir John Clanvowe, Constantinople, 1391’, The Antiquaries Journal, 71 (1991), 174–90. 78 Fowler, Medieval Mercenaries, pp. 294–5.

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle they were released together and arrived on the same day, 15 February 1371, at Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte, still an English stronghold at the time.79 John Bower has drawn an analogy between Palamon and Arcite, two brothers-inarms kept in captivity in Chaucer’s ‘The Knight’s Tale’, with Neville and Clanvowe.80 Could it be that Chaucer was referring to their early years in prison in France where the two knights had met and bonded? The strong bond that united the two men offers a sharp contrast with the ‘compagnies à butin’. There is further evidence of brothers-in-arms during the Hundred Years War.81 Only rarely, however, do the sources shed light on the nature of the bond. The sworn brotherhood-in-arms between Nicolas de Molyneux and John Winter, two English esquires, is the exception. It was the object of a written contract sealed by the two men when they arrived in France in 1421, and this precious document has survived.82 It was above all an agreement of mutual assistance; terms concerning the share of the profits came second. Five out of the eleven clauses concerned the eventuality of being captured by the enemy. If either was taken prisoner, the free brother was bound to do all that was possible to secure his freedom provided that the ransom demanded for him did not exceed £1,000. If it did exceed £1,000, he was expected to act as a hostage for the release on parole of the captive brother for eight or nine months, the estimated time needed for the latter to raise this larger sum. Should the two brothers be taken prisoner at the same time, one would remain hostage while the other would procure the ransom money for both. How does this contract fit into the context of the Hundred Years War? It is the only detailed agreement between two brothers-in-arms discovered so far. In other cases, Maurice Keen has shown how the terms of contracts changed according to the status of the contractors.83 The lower we go down the hierarchy, the less chivalric and the more materialistic these agreements were. Bruce McFarlane saw likely brothers-in-arms through soldiers, at the bottom of the heirarchy, sealing an indenture of war together.84 In parallel, I have observed elsewhere that the great majority of the humblest masters of prisoners taken at Agincourt were 79 TNA, E 101/30/38, 31/18. 80 J. Bower, ‘Three Readings of the Knight’s Tale: Sir John Clanvowe, Geoffrey Chaucer and James I of Scotland’, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 34 (2004), 279–307. 81 See, for instance, M. Keen, ‘Brotherhood in Arms’, History, 47 (1962), 1–17; P. Contamine, Guerre, état, pp. 483–4. 82 It was discovered, commented on and published by K. B. McFarlane, ‘A Business-Partnership in War and Administration, 1421–1445’, EHR, 78 (1963), 290–308; reprinted in his England in the Fifteenth Century, pp. 151–74. 83 Keen, ‘Brotherhood in Arms’, pp. 2–3. 84 McFarlane, ‘A Business-Partnership’, p. 291.

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Companions, partners and brothers-in-arms also associated in pairs, and the limited amount of evidence gathered about the masters of the battle of Poitiers seems to point to a similar trend.85 But can we reasonably consider these men as brothers-in-arms, in the sense that the bond between them involved mutual assistance as well as the share of their profits? Studying the registers of the Parlement of Paris for the fourteenth century left Pierre-Clément Timbal and his team of researchers with the impression that the ‘chivalric’ notion of brothers-in-arms was out of date and that it had been replaced by associations essentially based on a share of the spoils of war.86 The idea of a military society, in which a fair share of the profits was the main, if not only, glue that bonded soldiers together, as Timbal suggested indirectly, is not only inconceivable but also unverified. Investigations of assistance within the world of the combatant have shown many circumstances in which captains and soldiers were willing to offer their aid to prisoners, most notably through treaties of surrender. That said, there is much evidence of disruption and individualism. It is this face of the military society that predominates, but is this simply the result of the nature of the sources? The English state recorded the profits made by its soldiers, and French and English courts of justice participated in the settlement of disputes.True friendship between soldiers, and its demonstration through mutual support to prisoners of war, has far fewer reasons to leave written traces, but is often revealed by circumstantial evidence.That in itself might suggest that mutual aid between a captain and his men, and between the men themselves, was relatively widespread. It is not possible to incline towards either solidarity or individualism within military society but we can identify favourable environments for the development of true friendship within this context. Large companies, which were together for a short period of time, gave less opportunity for soldiers to bond than garrisons. Soldiers show a tendency to have associated themselves in pairs to an extent that it almost looks like a tacit rule.This pair, or couple, is the most common basis for the development of deeper relationships, such as the formal brotherhood-in-arms.The association of larger groups, on the other hand, was more likely to be based on profits.87 85 Ambühl, ‘Le Sort des prisonniers’, pp. 757–65; Poitiers, pp. 281–2. 86 Timbal et al., La Guerre, p. 269. 87 The Croissant seems to be the only order of chivalry whose members were expected to contribute to the payment of one another’s ransoms when they could not support themselves: ‘Item, se aucun desdits chevalier ou escuyers dudit ordre estoit prins en la guerre des infidelles et enemis de la foy chrestienne, ou au service de son souverain seigneur, ou pour sa querelle, deffendant ou conquerant les pais, terres et seigneuroes, et qu’il fust mis et rançonné par lesdits ennemis à si extreme et si excessive finance et rançon, que il ne peust payer sans vendre et aliener la pluspart de ses possessions et terres, ou venir à totalle destruction, en ce cas chascun desdits chevaliers et

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle F ami ly sup p ort ‘Despert le Bestot’,88 a French gentleman, was being kept prisoner in Pont-Sainte-Maxence when he met Jean de Saint-Ligier, a Burgundian knight, in 1421.89 Moved by the harsh conditions of Bestot’s captivity, Saint-Ligier ordered the prisoner to be unfettered. He showed so much respect to his noble status that, one day, Bestot asked for his help. The Burgundian knight entered into contact with the friends and family of the prisoner, but none of them was inclined to contribute to Bestot’s ransom; the prisoner’s own wife declared that even if he had been threatened with hanging, she would not have spent a penny on him! Up against the wall, Bestot put a deal into the hands of Saint-Ligier: if the latter agreed to release him from prison and be responsible for his ransom and expenses, which must have amounted to 400 eo, and if he fed him until his death (‘s’il le vouloit nourrir sa vie’), he would cede to him his lands at Agincourt. A contract was sealed (‘et en passa lectres’), and the captive regained his freedom shortly afterwards. The treaty between the two men was ratified when Bestot returned to Pont-Sainte-Maxence with the deeds of his inheritance (in a pouch hung round his neck). Such was the story that Saint-Ligier, defendant, gave to the Parlement of Paris in the late 1420s. These were lies and deceits in the opinion of the general attorney, and of the plaintiff, who asked that the contract between the two men be made void. Friends and family who left a prisoner to his own devices, a wife who cruelly sentenced her husband to death, these are allegations in all likelihood unfounded. The close family or, to use a modern phrase, the nuclear family, shows in general a particularly strong attachment and dedication to a prisoner. The question is not so much whether these close relatives would be inclined to help but how and to what extent they were able to do so. Husband and wife French literature tells us of wives who were dedicated to their husbands but whose power was relatively limited.Wives could be designated as hostages; the wife of the poet Jean Régnier endured harsh treatment when she replaced him in prison, but the poet cut short this story which ‘trop long seroit a compter’ (would be too long to be told).90 The replacement escuyers sera tenu de luy ayder, selon sa possibilité et discretion’. M.Vulson de la Colombière, Le Vray théâtre d’honneur de la chevalerie, 2 vols. (Paris, 1648), vol. i, p. 111; see also Vale, War and Chivalry, p. 56. 88 Unidentified.  89  AN, X1a, 4795, fol. 197v (January 1428). 90 Régnier, Les Fortunes, pp. 152–3.

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Family support of the prisoner by his wife takes the form of a sacrifice in the Mirouer aux Dames (c. 1477–82) written by Philippe Bouton: Ne scay combien de prisonniers Furent condamnés à mourir; Leurs femmes les avoyent tant chers Qu’elles se vindrent desveslir Et de leurs habiz les vestir Ainsi leurs maris hors vindrent Et leurs femmes la demourerent I do not know how many condemned prisoners there were, so dear to their wives, that the latter came forward and took their clothes off to give them to their h ­ usbands who left the place in disguise, while they remained there.91

This image of loving and selfless wives was seemingly inspired by the legend of Jason and the Golden Fleece. The mythical roots of the story are revealed in Christine de Pizan’s Cité des dames (1405).92 A group of wives exchanged their clothes with their husbands, who were former companions of Jason and who were waiting in prison for their execution by the authority of the city of Lacedaemon against which they had conspired. The disguised husbands left the prison without any difficulty. When the time of the execution came and the subterfuge was revealed, the ingenuity of the women was praised and their lives spared. How many prisoners were saved that way? None, or practically none. This sacrifice was metaphorical. However, it is certain that some wives were held hostage for the release on parole of their husbands. And this could take the form of a sacrifice. Marguerite de Mornay claimed to have been kept in prison in place of her husband, Gilbert de Fresnay, for five years and five months ‘en fers et en une chesne de fer, et o tout ce estoit en sep, jour et nuyt, pour ce que son mary ne pouvoit paier la grant finance que l’on luy demandoit’ (in fetters and held by an iron chain, and, in addition to this, she was put in stocks, day and night, because her husband could not pay the great ransom which was demanded from him).93

E. Beauvois, Un agent politique de Charles-Quint, le bourguignon Claude Bouton, seigneur de Corberon, notice sur sa vie et ses poésies, avec le texte de son Miroir des Dames, et des pièces justificatives (Paris, 1882), Pièces Justificatives, p. 16. About the author, see Dictionnaire des lettres françaises: le moyen âge, Geneviève Hasenohr et Michel Zink, ed. (Paris, 1992), pp. 1137–8. 92 C. de Pizan, Le Livre de la cité des dames, E. Hicks and Th. Moreau, eds. (Paris, 1992), pp. 160–1. 93 Livre des miracles, pp. 72–3, no. 118 (23 May 1437). For another example of wife held hostage, see AN, X1a 4794, 194v–195r (18 February 1425). 91

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle This image of the powerless hostage wife is not predominant in the administrative records. Such evidence provides a more dynamic and resourceful portrait of wives working actively for the release of their husbands. The courage of Marie de Berry, countess of Auvergne, and the energy she put into her attempt to secure the freedom of her third husband, Jean de Clermont, duke of Bourbon, following his capture at Agincourt, as well as in the management and defence of the estates of the family during his captivity, have already been brought to light.94 In brief, she sent food and commodities to ease the captivity of her husband, entered into negotiations with the king of England for his liberation, established connections with Italian bankers and officials to borrow money, sealed a treaty with the city of Florence for the same purpose and sold part of their estates to raise more funds. All this proved ineffective, and the duke eventually died in captivity in January 1434. Her case was not exceptional. In many instances, prisoners’ wives were instrumental in the release of their husband even if their share in the process of release is not always easily measurable. John Bourchier sent instructions to his wife Maud in May 1374; the English knight had by then been rotting in prison in France for almost three years.95 The written part of the instructions gave her power of attorney to sell or mortgage all their lands if there was no other solution to free him, ‘kar’ (for), he said, ‘ky n’ad le corps il n’ad rien’ (he who has not his body has nothing).This letter was brought to Maud by John Rush, a servant of Bourchier, who gave her further instructions by mouth about how to proceed for his release. A year later, Maud Bourchier addressed a petition to Edward III asking him to prevent Roger de Beaufort and Jean de la Roche, two French prisoners in the hands of the king, from leaving England without a guarantee that her husband would be released at the same time.96 Evidence shows other wives involved in the process of petitioning the authorities on behalf of their husband, e.g., Lady Lesparre (for Florimont de Lesparre),97 Joan Felton (for Thomas Felton)98 and Ellen Ratford (for Henry Ratford)99 or involved in the collection of grants, e.g., Lady Simone (for Charles de Poitiers),100 Lady Horable (for Renaud de For what follows, see Huillard-Bréholles, ‘La Rançon du duc de Bourbon Jean Ier, 1415–1436’, 37–91; A. Leguai, ‘Le Problème des rançons’, pp. 41–58 and his Les Ducs de Bourbon pendant la crise monarchique du XVe siècle (Paris, 1962), especially pp. 83–95.   95 Jones, ‘Fortunes et malheurs’, p. 193.   96 TNA, SC 8/21/1016; published in Jones, ‘Fortunes et malheurs’, pp. 207–8 (c. 1375).   97 TNA, SC 8/151/7547 (c. 1378).   98 TNA, SC 8/169/8424 (1381).   99 TNA, SC 8/302/15064 (c. 1431–2). 100 BL, Add. Ch. 11338 (21 December 1364).   94

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Family support Montléon)101 and Jeanne d’Archiac (for Guillaume de Torsay).102 Greater action is suggested in other cases. Joan Goodrich obtained a protection from the king of England to solicit alms for the ransom of her husband who had been captured at sea by the French.103 Jean de Varèze had been taken prisoner at Verneuil. In 1425, Jeanne de Chasteignier, his wife, received a special licence from Charles VII to transport, exchange and sell 400 barrels of wheat, 300 barrels of wine and 800 muids of salt within the kingdom of France or elsewhere within the coming two years.104 In April 1430 and 1431, Estiennette was involved in the sale of wood to pay the ransom of her husband, Robin Letrais.105 From the image of a passive wife who surrendered her body to save the life of her husband, an image nurtured in literature, we have moved to the portrait in documentary sources of an active wife who was fully involved in the ransoming of her husband. We can wonder whether these dedicated wives merely obeyed the orders of their husband or whether we should see them as the real architects of the liberation. This question will have to remain open in the absence of firm evidence in either direction. There is an exception, however, which deserves our full attention. Hugues de Châtillon, lord of Dampierre, master of the crossbowmen of France, was taken prisoner by Nicole de Louvain, seneschal of Ponthieu, and handed over to Edward III in 1369.106 A project of exchange with the English knight, Simon Burley, captured at about the same time at Lusignan, was proposed, and Charles V entrusted the custody of the English prisoner to Châtillon’s wife, Agnès de Séchelles, in 1370.107 There is evidence of a correspondence between husband and wife, for we know that he asked her to treat her prisoner well in the hope that he himself would enjoy better conditions of captivity in England. Soon afterwards, Burley escaped from his prison but was recaptured by two French knights who asked for a great deal of money for their prisoner; the Parlement of Paris, which was consulted on this occasion, decided in favour of Séchelles, to whom the two knights were ordered to surrender Burley in August 1371. The project of exchange never materialised because, in the meantime, Châtillon, who was no better than Burley at keeping his word, had also escaped from prison. Had his hopes of freedom vanished when 101 AN, KK 251, fol. 86v (29 June 1371). 102 BL, Add. Ch. 3583 (25 February 1426). 103 TNA, SC8/332/15763 (c. 1405–30). 104 BnF, PO 2928,Varèze, no. 4 (24 June 1425). 105 ADSM, 2E 14/718; quoted in A. Dubois, ‘Femmes dans la guerre (XIVe–XVe siècles): un rôle caché par les sources’, Tabularia ‘Études’, 4 (2004), 39–51, at p. 41. 106 Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, pp. 194–5; Chronique de Jean II et Charles V, vol. ii, p. 136; Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 206. On Hugues de Châtillon, see Anselme, Histoire, vol. viii, pp. 46–7. 107 Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 322–9. For the capture of Burley, see Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, p. 12.

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle he heard of Burley’s escape? More interestingly, Froissart presents Agnès de Séchelles as the mastermind of this escape: il [Châtillon] trouva voie et tour par le pourchas de ma dame sa femme, comment il fu délivrés par l’ayde d’un maronnier de L’Escluse en Flandres, qui se mist en l’aventure de li aler quere en le marce de Nothombreland, et fist tant toutes fois qu’il le ramena en Flandres. he found his way out through the intervention of my lady his wife; how he was released thanks to a mariner of Sluys in Flanders who came to his rescue in the marches of Northumberland, and did so much that he brought him back to Flanders.108

Unfortunately, the chronicler cut short his story because, in his words, ‘la matière en seroit trop long à demener’ (this matter would be too long to develop). This account of Châtillon’s escape is by and large corroborated by the Anonimalle Chronicle, although the latter locates the detention in the castle of Nottingham rather than in the marches of Northumberland – an easily made mistake that can hardly be held against Froissart.109 The escape of Châtillon made a deep impression in England. Five years later, the commons reminded the king that the castle of Nottingham was not the safest place in which the hostages for Charles de Blois should be kept, ‘having regard for the escape of Sir Hugues Châtillon from there in the time of Steven Rumbilows, the good esquire’.110 If we can believe Froissart, this case is a striking example of a devoted and enterprising wife. Parents and sons There is ample evidence of caring parents who rescued or attempted to rescue their sons from prison. We see them paying the ransoms of their sons,111 sometimes several ransoms.112 If they could not afford these out of their own resources, they borrowed, sometimes heavily,113 and they also worked on projects of exchange.114 Some parents were less keen, such as Eude, lord of Grancey, who contented himself with acting as surety for his son, in 1379, but they were exceptions to the rule 108 Froissart, SHF, vol. viii, p. 182.  109  Anonimalle Chronicle, p. 62. 110 PROME, vol. v, p. 364 (April 1376). 111 Actes de la chancellerie, vol.  i, pp.  120–2, no.  51 (October 1424); Morice, Mémoires pour servir de preuves, vol. ii, cols. 1252–3 (7 August 1432); BL, Add. Ms. 15644, fol. 2–4 (1 February 1442). 112 AN, JJ 100, no. 393; as cited in Froissart, SHF, vol. vii, pp. liii–liv (September 1369). 113 English Suits, p. 88 (15 February 1425); McFarlane, The Nobility, pp. 126–8; Hicks, ‘Counting the Cost’, pp. 11–31; Foedera, vol. x, p. 457 (21 April 1430). 114 BL, Add Ch 3552 (23 May 1421); ADN, B 1978, fol. 233r (31 January 1441).

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Family support of total dedication by parents to their sons.115 Parental commitment was such that some ended up taking desperate measures to save their offspring, or so they claimed when they were caught or confronted. A high-profile official, Andé Marchant, governor of Orléans and former provost of Paris, was involved in two legal cases concerning ownership of two prisoners of war in the 1420s. In the first case, Marchant claimed to have been satisfied by the sentence pronounced in his favour by a tribunal of first instance. This entitled him to the ransom of a certain Jean Sudré, ‘dont il a bien besoing pour lui aider a paier la finance d’un de ses enfans prisonnier des Angloys et l’a esté par l’espace de deux ans’ (which he needs very much to help him pay the ransom of one of his sons prisoner of the English for two years).116 Sudré, who considered himself to be the victim of an injustice, brought the case to appeal before the Parlement of Paris in 1423. The decision of the court is unknown. In the second case, Marchant’s arrest of an English knight, Robert Parentis, and his claim over his ransom had been dismissed in the first instance. It was his default of payment that ended before the Parlement of Paris in 1425.117 Again, Marchant talked extensively about the difficulties he had encountered – both financial and practical – in redeeming his two sons.118 His lawyer, Jean Jouvénal des Ursins, even claimed that the ransoms of his children had exceeded Marchant’s profits from office.119 Marchant’s attitude deserves some attention. It appears that the ransoms of his sons had nothing to do with these two cases; Marchant used them as a way to raise compassion from his judges and perhaps to make up for the weakness of his claims. At best, he can be seen as a desperate father who found no straightforward solution for the payment of his sons’ ransoms. At worst, he was a greedy and unscrupulous man who used these ransoms as an excuse to cover his trickery.120 If we believe Jean de Roffignac, his despair took him into murky waters, for the man claimed to have been involved in the counterfeiting of money – a very serious

115 AN, X1a 28, fol. 272v (5 March 1379). 116 The case is summarised in Little, The Parlement of Poitiers, p. 171. For the quotation, see AN, X2a 18, fol. 15v (16 December 1423). On 15 June 1423, Jean Marchant, prisoner of William Meyring, knight, and of William Bourgoygne, received a safe-conduct to go to Orléans to raise his ransom. DKR, 48, p. 226. 117 This long suit is also summarised in Little, The Parlement of Poitiers, p. 172. 118 AN, X1a 9198, fol. 265v–266r (August 1425). 119 AN, X1a 9198, fol. 266v. 120 For a similar example, see the case of Pierre de la Viesville who took unfair advantage of his position as lieutenant of the town of Ardres to seize prisoners who were not his in the hope of getting money out of them to pay the ransom of one or two of his sons. BL, Add. Ch. 12509 (17 April 1416).

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle crime which was severely punished – for the sake of paying the ransom of his son.121 How, in return, did children help their father should he fall in the hands of the enemy? They, rather than their mothers (prisoners’ wives), were ideal hostages, as the sources reveal.122 Indeed, the depth of fatherly love and the concern for the perpetuation of a lineage were safe guarantees for masters to see the return of their prisoners with money for their ransoms. At this level too, however, there were exceptions, as the following case may indicate. We read in a letter of remission granted to Jehannin Garnier that, some time in 1423, he stood as hostage in Evreux for the release on parole of his father Guillaume.123 The latter was expected to return with 50 eo of his ransom within ten days, but he did not come back. This was because he had only managed to raise a third of the money and he was afraid of being mistreated if he returned. Not surprisingly, his angry masters took revenge on his son, Jehannin, who feared so much for his life that he agreed to fight along with them. Jehannin eventually managed to escape their company after a year or so, and, concerned that he would be arrested, sought remission from Henry VI. The cowardice and deception of his own father, as well as his distress in the hands of the enemy, were good reasons to obtain pardon from the king. But how true were they? They may have been invented or amplified to provide a sound justification for Jehannin’s service in arms to the French. There is no reason, however, to be suspicious about the story of Pierre de Tournebu and Jean Martel, two angry fathers, who asked their masters to answer before a court for the death of their sons while they stood as hostage in their hands.124 Finally, it must be noted that children were not limited solely to the role of hostage; they could also contribute more actively to the ransom of their parents. In 1424, for example, Jean and Amé de Saulx, two brothers, set up an annual and perpetual rent of 250 eo to Henry d’Orlye for his loan of 2,500 eo which had been converted to the payment of Lady Marie, their mother, whom Eustache de Vernancourt kept prisoner.125 In

AN, X2a 24, fol. 27r (11 May 1444). 122 Examples abound. Contamine, ‘Un contrôle étatique croissant’, p. 207 (1364); Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp.  346–51 (1365); AN, X1a 4789, fol.  510vo; as cited in C. Bozzolo and H. Loyau, La Cour amoureuse, vol.  i, p.  139 (1372); Actes de la chancellerie, vol.  i, pp.  291–4, no.  116 (February 1426); BnF, PO 1292, Gaucourt, 46 (4 February 1442); Goulay, ‘La Résistance’, p. 97 (1443); TNA E 404/67/195 (4 July 1451); TNA, C1/46/200 (1433–43 or 1467–72); Bartier, Légistes et gens de finances, p. 231, n. 2 (1420?) 123 Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 150–3, no. 63 (November 1424). 124 Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 462–7 (7 September 1366). 125 Luce, Jeanne d’Arc, pp. 146–7 (no. 97). 121

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Family support March 1432, Philip the Good granted 76 so to Macé de Rochebaron to help him pay the ransom of his father who was still a prisoner. 126 Siblings A-priori solidarity existed between brothers, but the relationship between siblings, between elder and younger brothers, in particular, could become fiercely competitive as they grew older, especially when their father died and questions of succession were raised.127 Brotherhood thus characterised itself by its ambivalence. How did this reflect on assistance to prisoners of war? Strong demonstrations of brotherly love are prevalent in the sources. For instance, the relentless efforts of Jean de Dunois, bâtard of Orléans, to extract his two half-brothers, Charles, duke of Orléans, and Jean, count of Angoulême, from their English prison is one fine example of this.128 The Torsay brothers, issued from the same parents, offer yet another example of solidarity. Jean de Torsay, master of the crossbowmen, was part of a commission that raised a significant ransom fund and shared it among the prisoners taken by the English at the battle of Verneuil. These prisoners included his younger brother Guillaume, who received 2,000 lt.129 Should Torsay take the credit for this action? His next move suggests that he is likely to have been personally involved in it. Indeed, he worked on an exchange between the English knight Thomas Arundel and his brother Guillaume.130 Jean added a provision in his will that if this project failed his younger brother should receive 3,000 eo in addition to a part of his estates. Jean died in 1427, Arundel in 1435, before the exchange could take place. Guillaume claimed his share of Jean’s inheritance, but Jean’s daughter and heiress, Guillaume’s niece, opposed it. The ensuing dispute ended before the Parlement of Paris, which decided in favour of Guillaume. On a scale of commitment, the bond between the two brothers evidently surpassed the weaker link between niece and uncle, but it is lower than parenthood. Indeed, it could be argued that, whilst dedicated parents would have paid the ransom of their son, Jean explored different ways to release his brother, preserving his own assets until his death. As support for this idea, I have found only evidence of men paying part of

BnF, Coll. Bourgogne, 29, fol. 138 (16 March 1432). 127 M. Nassiet, Parenté, noblesse et états dynastiques, XVe–XVIe siècles (Paris, 2000), pp. 56–66. 128 For his efforts, see Dupont-Ferrier, ‘La Captivité de Jean d’Orléans’, pp. 42–74; Champion, Vie de Charles d’Orléans, pp. 179–80, 193–4, 197–8, 272–4, 278, 281–3, 287–8, 297, 299, 300, 302, 312. 129 See pp. 196–7. 130 AN, X1a 9194, fol. 32; 9193, fol. 161; as cited in RDP, vol. vii, p. 371 (6 December 1432; 7 September 1436). 126

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle their brother’s ransom; there is no surviving example of payment of the full amount by a brother.131 Brotherly love shines through multiple and varied expressions in the sources: intercessions with the authorities (for instance, Pope Gregory IX with Edward III, for the release of his younger brother Roger Beaufort, in 1371),132 and with other relevant intermediaries (such as Richard Boys with an English esquire called Edmund Dardys, for his brother Robert, c. 1443–56),133 traffic of prisoners (as between Olivier and Pierre le Forestier, for the latter’s release, in the 1420s)134 and evacuation of a place (Compiègne being evacuated by Guillaume de Gamaches to save the life of his brother Philippe, in 1422).135 Standing in as a hostage could also be added to this list. This role was sometimes specifically endorsed by younger brothers, as in the case of the lord of Albret, in 1363, the count of Saint-Pol, in 1381, and the duke of Suffolk in the 1430s.136 As John Ormond highlighted in a petition to the crown, ‘your said servaunt is a younger brother and hath only litill lyvelode to relief him.’137 All these forms of support give the general impression that brothers were inclined to help each other according to their means but without any sense of the sacrifice more characteristic of parenthood. Surprisingly, perhaps, evidence of competition between brothers is comparatively scarce, although there are some exceptions. The first two are fairly moderate. Oudart Blondel agreed to contribute to the ransom of his brother Jean captured at Agincourt, but he did it in return for the cession of a part of his estates.138 Similarly, Guillaume de Châteauvillain sold a series of towns to his younger brother Bernard in 1433, in order

See, for instance, Timbal et al., La Guerre, pp. 351–3 (1365). Catalogue analytique des archives de M. le Baron de Joursanvault, contenant une précieuse collection de manuscrits, chartes et documens originaux au nombre de plus de quatre-vingt mille concernant l’histoire générale de France, 2 vols. (Paris, 1838), vol. i, no. 126 (13 August 1420); vol. ii, no. 2567 (25 September 1421); Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 86 n. 3 (1423); AN, X1a 4797, fol. 215r–216r (22 December 1434). 132 Foedera (PRO), vol. iii, p. 923 (25 September 1371). See also TNA, SC 8/168/8379 (c. 1350–77); Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, pp. 93–5 (1422); BL, Add. Ch. 426 (21 March 1437). 133 TNA, SC 8/304/15177 (c. 1443–56); see also Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart, p. 93 (30 January 1428). 134 AN, X1a 9201, fol. 94v (31 July 1432); see also AN, X1a 4793, fol. 10v, 13r (13 January 1420). 135 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. iv, p. 95. 136 Barrois, ‘Jean Ier’. See also the younger brothers of the counts of Saint-Pol and Suffolk who stood as hostages for their elder brothers TNA, E 404/12 (4 October 1381); PROME, vol. xii, p. 92 (November 1449). Information is missing in other cases to be able to determine the precedence in age between two brothers. TNA, SC 8/118/5878 (c. 1372–c. 1377); 147/7312 (1407); Actes de la chancellerie, vol. i, pp. 291–4, no. 116 (February 1426); p. 347, no. 135 (24 May 1426); AN, JJ 174, no. 130 (9 April 1428); TNA C 1/26/110. 137 TNA C 49/32/10 (?1454). 138 BnF, PO 372, Blondel de Joigny, no.  95; as cited in Lefèvre-Pontalis, Partisans, 56 (1895), pp. 456–9. 131

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Conclusion to begin the payment of his huge ransom of 32,000 so.139 Whether or not Oudart and Bernard took advantage of the distress of the prisoners to buy these properties at a low price, the fact remains that their support was not given for nothing. A final case reveals a deeper division between two brothers. Guyot de Brestel, a French knight in the AngloBurgundian obedience, was due to inherit the lands of his father when he was captured by the French in the early 1420s.140 Godart, his younger brother, took advantage of his absence to enter into possession of Guyot’s inheritance. Matters became further complicated when Godart subsequently decided to rally to the French side, which may have been a strategic move to increase his chance of remaining in possession of his father’s inheritance. Not surprisingly, this act of rebellion in the eyes of the English government resulted in the confiscation of all his estates, which were passed on to the lord of Croix, bailli of Lille, and a certain Baudeton. On his release, in 1424, Guyot de Brestel vividly remonstrated against the spoliation of his inheritance. The English government agreed and settled this case in his favour because of his service, long period in prison and, more importantly, the non-observance of custom. Divided allegiances within the same family may not have been uncommon during the Hundred Years War, but this is an issue that is yet to be fully investigated. They were surely the source of disagreements but may also have been, as in the Brestel case, the result of an existing frisson between brothers. Conclusion Assistance to prisoners of war mainly worked through private channels. This, as has been highlighted throughout this chapter, raises a great obstacle in terms of sources. Friendship is particularly difficult to detect. Companionship has been more successfully defined, but even if the association of soldiers in pairs seems to be widespread within military society, the nature and basis remains unclear. Notwithstanding these grey areas, it is possible to identify favourable environments for the development of strong bonds between individuals which involved assistance to prisoners of war: parents, wives, direct subordinates (clients, retainers and servants), soldier pairs and garrisons. If we attempt to place these into a hierarchy, thereby creating a model for assistance to prisoners of war, it could take the form of a succession of concentric circles. In the circle nearest the prisoner are those closest to him: his wife, children, parents and friends.

  Bossuat, ‘Guillaume de Châteauvillain’, p. 9. BnF, PO 501, Brestel, 2 (3 June 1424).

139

140

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Assistance to prisoners (III): social circle Friends within the military company can be placed in the second circle. However, once a companion became a friend, it is reasonable to count him among the prisoner’s closest supporters. The second circle is formed by close subordinates and clients from whom the prisoner could reasonably expect some form of assistance, such as the members of a lord’s household. In the third circle we find the prisoner’s company, where solidarity and individualism are in conflict. Siblings are in this same circle because of the ambivalence of the bond between blood brothers. Finally, the last circle is also that of last resort for the great majority of prisoners: the princes.This model is a first attempt to theorise the issue of assistance to prisoners, which will undoubtedly be refined by subsequent research.

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C oncl u s ion

The accent placed in this book on the individual experiences of captors and prisoners – their attitudes, habits and practices – demonstrates the relevance of the concept of a ransom culture in the Hundred Years War. Freedom had a price, whoever paid it and however it was paid. Normally, a prisoner, aided by his close connections, would pay a ransom. But alternative ways to regain freedom also followed this logic. Exchanges of prisoners commonly incurred the payment of financial compensation, save for the rare exceptions where two ‘enemy’ masters had reciprocal interests in their respective prisoners. Even in these circumstances, the master could still ask for some form of compensation from the prisoner he released. Enforced changes of allegiances were in some instances political, but this was not the norm.The great majority of such changes were motivated by money problems: a bankrupt prisoner would be expected to pay back his debt through service in arms to his master. Solidarity in the warrior community explains the practice of allowing the evacuation of a garrison from a town or fortress in return for a proposed, or required, release of one or more prisoners, but these prisoners had to be purchased from their masters by the commanders who wished to see the evacuation of the place. In fact, almost any acquisition of a prisoner of war by any king or prince, for whatever purpose, had a price. A ransom was almost inevitably paid in one way or another. This underlying principle of ransom culture applied equally in France and England, from the highest to the lowest of the social and political hierarchy. This marked interest in ransoms could collide with the public interests of the authorities. Bans on private ransoms are arguably the strongest form of intervention, but they were neither common, nor long-lasting nor onerous, nor were they always observed or well received. Despite a technical sovereign right over all prisoners of war at a time when soldiers received royal pay, and the contemporary belief expressed in the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois that prisoners kept out of action 257

Conclusion would diminish the strength of the enemy and thereby help to hasten the end of the conflict, this ultimate form of ban never seems to have been applied, or only briefly in the particular context of Lancastrian Normandy. Issues at stake in tactical bans on prisoner-taking in the heat of the action should be placed in a separate category.The interdiction that prisoners could not be taken during a battle until victory had been secured was an important safety measure from which even potential captors could benefit. Prisoner-taking was a dangerous distraction which could all too easily jeopardise an army’s chances of victory. Contemporaries were well aware of this problem. A captor who had already taken prisoners had an interest in ensuring the final victory on the field since otherwise he might see his prisoner rescued by the enemy.We have seen, however, that captors preserved themselves against this possibility by making their prisoner swear to remain theirs, either ‘rescued or not rescued’. This special clause could be interpreted, from this perspective, as an example of the prevalence of private interests over the safety of the host. In any case, it is striking to note that the application of the rule banning prisoner-taking until victory had been secured was not ubiquitous. There is no trace of it, for example, in any surviving English or Franco-Scottish ordinances of war. It was not observed by the English in such a decisive battle as Agincourt, but it was part of a battle plan drawn by John the Fearless in 1417. Perhaps we should take into account here the particular and fiercer context of civil war. Safety issues encouraged the French and English crowns to exert some form of control over the process of ransoming, especially during a campaign where there were higher stakes. Presence of prisoners in the host had to be signalled, and such captives could not be ransomed without the consent of the authorities in command.There are also signs of greater interference by rulers with the issue of safe-conducts in the fifteenth century. This applies more particularly to the English government than to the French. The politics of these two governments were more clearly differentiated around the financial issue. There is no evidence that the French king was entitled to any portion of the ransom of his subjects, while the rule of the third and third of the third in England secured the king with a share of the ransoms of every single prisoner taken by his subjects. The financial interest of English kings in ransoms would, if anything, deter them from interfering with private ransoms. Conversely, it would not have been surprising to see the French crown developing greater forms of interference with the private ransom business of their men, especially when it collided with their public interests. This was not, however, the case. 258

Conclusion No sovereign, even the most centralising, could afford to disregard the private interests of their soldiers for whom ransoms and booty were a driving force to enrol in the armies. The relative non-interventionism of the French and English crowns in private ransom business is a financial issue. The attitude of the prince, who was little involved in assistance to prisoners save for those in his household, could be regarded as cold pragmatism. Princes had many demands on them. Assistance to prisoners came low in their list of priorities; rulers could find other peers and soldiers for service who were not in prison, so why bother about those in captivity? Even if this were true in part, it is an interpretation that underestimates the problem for princes of a lack of financial resources. This explains the modest financial contributions to ransoms by princes and the exploration of alternative forms of assistance, such as licences to trade. It also sheds light on the limit of royal and princely interference in other ways. Prisoners became the individual responsibility of their masters from the very moment of their capture. Masters were expected to secure an appropriate place and conditions of detention. This was not necessarily an easy task. There was no such thing as a ‘prison of war’. In general, safe and secure places were rare and could not receive a great number of captives. Masters had to inform themselves about the value of their prisoners and to engage in negotiations with them, their friends and their family. For their part, prisoners and their connections worked, on their own initiative, to raise funds or to arrange an exchange of prisoners. Many obstacles were encountered in this quest for ransom payments, such as travel through enemy territory, raising of funds, exchange from silver into gold coins and from one currency to another and, finally, the transportation of money. Such obstacles kept dialogue open between masters and prisoners. Negotiations were crucial in this process. The ransom culture was essentially contractual. In fact, the law of contract was so firmly rooted that a ransom contract could even supersede or invalidate arguments from the law of arms. This law of contract concerned not only masters and prisoners but any individual who became involved in the business. By the end of the war, heralds were also referred to as experts in the law of contract, as we saw in the ransom case of Olivier de Coëtivy. There is no doubt that 117 years of war (even if it was interspersed with truces) had an impact on military practices, but the scattered and fragmentary nature of the surviving sources makes it difficult to identify turning points. Two evolutions can be suggested here. The first appearance of the phrase ‘prisoner of war’ seems to have occurred in the 1420s. How was the term interpreted? The introduction of the notion into late medieval vocabulary does not seem to have been accompanied by 259

Conclusion any radical change in the status of prisoner of war, nor does it point to any particular evolution in the linked practices of ransoming. The only explanation that the sources suggest is the need to distinguish more clearly the status of combatant, and that of prisoner of war, from the status of criminal in the particular context of Lancastrian Normandy, both before and after the treaty of Troyes. It is as if Jean Dunbabin’s theory of the emergence in the thirteenth century of the separate status of prisoner of war (as opposed to criminal) was only conveyed in words two centuries later, unless we can assume that the distinction was only fully acknowledged in the fifteenth century. It should be highlighted that the sources that have been consulted are very much focused on Normandy, Maine and Anjou. This theory needs to be tested, therefore, against a broader geographical and chronological framework which has to stretch beyond the Hundred Years War. Another, arguably more significant, change took place during the Hundred Years War. This was the development of a scale of ransoms at the lower echelons of the military hierarchy. The greatest difficulty is to pinpoint the exact time. The earliest evidence of a scale of ransoms at the bottom of the social hierarchy dates to the battle of Agincourt. How should we interpret this? As a sign of evolution in the practice of ransoming in the first decades of the fifteenth century? Or as the result of the exceptional survival of a file of bonds for the payment of the royal share of ransoms, from which this scale emerges? Interestingly, the Norman garrison counter-rolls (1420s–1440s) as well as a commission of enquiry into the loss of Normandy (1449) provide further evidence of such scales in the fifteenth century.Taken together, these sources point to two significant developments: not only do they show that the ransoming of lower-ranking prisoners had become part of the standard mores of the time but also that the valuation of these prisoners had become more systematic. This last point – a systemisation of the process of ransoming at lower levels of the hierarchy – is further substantiated by the extensive practice of les marz, which was a fixed rate, set at about a fifth of the ransom, for the expenses of custody. Whether this was already the case in the fourteenth century is difficult to ascertain. The survival of the Norman counter-rolls that reveal the full extent of the practice of les marz is hardly less exceptional than that of the Agincourt bonds. In any case, the notion of counter-rolls recording in detail the captures of prisoners and booty appears to be wholly a product of the Lancastrian administration of Normandy, linked to the need to distribute the share of thirds to captains and thirds of thirds to the crown. It is tempting to argue that the absence of evidence for the fourteenth century is the sign of an evolution in the fifteenth century, but we need to be cautious. After all, 260

Conclusion the expansion of the practice of ransoming to include the lower strata of the military hierarchy, which can already be observed at Poitiers in 1356, in itself, marks a significant change in comparison with the thirteenth century, when, according to historians, ransoming, an integral part of the chivalric ethos, involved only nobles and knights, commoners usually being slaughtered. The extension of the practice of ransoming to commoners finds an easy explanation in the growing size of the rank-and-file element of French and English armies over the course of the Hundred Years War. Since these armies were, by the middle of the fourteenth century, essentially contractual, it can be said that an increasing number of lower-ranking soldiers were willing to fight for the crown. From this perspective, this evolution in the composition of the armies emerges as both further evidence for, and explanation of, what might be called a ‘democratisation’ of the ransom culture, which moved out of the close circle of knights and the chivalric ethos. It is hardly conceivable that increasing numbers of commoners would willingly join the royal armies if their fate in the event of capture was inevitably death. The risk would be too high, and patriotism was not yet a major driving force to prompt enrolment. The explanation can be summed up as follows: more and more rank-and-file soldiers captured more and more rank-and file-prisoners, and this situation gave rise to a form of social recognition between equals. It could also be argued that materialism had penetrated the whole of society, even the upper levels of the hierarchy which would not demur from taking even the small profits available from the ransom of a commoner.These arguments, it must be noted, are not mutually exclusive. Also, it is interesting to note that the ordinances of war, which strictly forbade anyone to kill prisoners in the hands of fellow soldiers, applied to all troops, irrespective of rank. In addition, the fear of retaliation may have contributed to integrating this practice into the minds of combatants. The full adoption of written contractual agreements into the ransom system facilitated ransoming between men of unequal status who, in other circumstances, might not have credited the word of their opponent. There remains, however, the problem of oath-taking between men of unequal status at the moment of capture: would a noble be prepared to take the oath of a commoner? The development of ransom practice during the Hundred Years War is an evolution from below, from the individual masters and prisoners who faced multiple obstacles caused by the lack of recognised structures. In other words, it was specifically the non-intervention of the crown and the freedom of action of individuals that shaped the ransom system and its evolution in this period. To what extent can we consider the late Middle Ages and, more specifically, the Hundred Years War, as a golden 261

Conclusion age of private ransoms, as Contamine suggested? His argument was based on what he took as evidence of looser control by the authorities over the issue of prisoners of war in the last two centuries of the Middle Ages. In his view, the crown in the thirteenth and from the sixteenth century onwards had a closer grip on the issue. As I pointed out in the introduction, Contamine’s observations for the thirteenth century are based on a very small number of examples. His conclusion calls for an in-depth investigation of prisoners of war in the thirteenth century.What seems plausible, on the other hand, is that tournaments contributed to the shaping of the ransom culture, but it must be noted that ransoms still remained a knightly practice in that period. In the light of my own studies, I am tempted to place the golden age at the turn of the fourteenth to fifteenth century when there is clear evidence that ransoms had reached the lower strata of the military hierarchy. The systematisation of the process developed further in the sixteenth century.1 Scales of ransoms became based on the wages of the soldiers, and higher-ranking officers were progressively included in these scales. Since it was the state that set the wages, this practice may point to greater involvement of the state. What is more, a new, generalised system of prisoner exchanges controlled by the state was introduced in the middle of the sixteenth century and evolved towards the Spanish cuartel general in seventeenth-century conflicts. These cartels stipulated, as Parker notes, that ‘every captain should ransom all his captured men within twenty-five days. First, prisoners of equal rank on each side were to be exchanged free of charge; thereafter, a ransom appropriate to the soldier’s rank (usually the equivalent of one month’s pay) was due, plus an agreed per diem “entertainment” for time spent in captivity.’2 For some scholars, this transition appears to mark the end of private ransoms which had by then come under state regulations.3 Others highlight the persistence of private ransoms throughout the sixteenth, and even the seventeenth, centuries.4 Indeed, there is evidence of such ransoms well into the seventeenth century. In 1625, Hugo Grotius still advocated in his legal treatise on The Law of War and Peace that prisoners were the property of those who captured them.5 This message was confirmed by the French king

Contamine, ‘The Growth of State’, pp. 185–8. 2 Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’, at p. 52. 3 Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’, pp. 52–3. 4 G. B. Davis, ‘The Prisoners of War’, The American Journal of International Law, 7 (1913), 521–45, at p. 541. 5 S. Yamauchi, ‘Looting of Men and Legal Theories in Medieval and Early Modern Europe’, Hitotsubashi Journal of Law and Politics, 23 (1995), 13–32, at pp. 17–18. 1

262

Conclusion at the beginning of the Thirty Years War.6 This conflict may have been the turning point. Problems raised by private ownership at that time led Louis XIV to reaffirm his pre-eminent right to dispose of all prisoners at will when he succeeded to the throne in 1643. Even so, captors were still rewarded in order to maintain their motivation in the ranks of Louis’ armies. It is interesting to note that the way to deal with Spanish captives in France at that stage in the seventeenth century still had much in common with the Hundred Years War. Higher-ranking prisoners were not exchanged. Their ransoms were fixed according to both their status and their function in the army and to their social rank. Negotiations were often led by the prisoner himself, and he would sometimes be released on parole once the amount of the ransom had been fixed. When the prisoner was not allowed to come back home, his family played a significant part in the payment of his ransom. Private negotiations for the ransom of prisoners also took place, in some instances at the lower level of the military hierarchy. Captives were detained in royal castles or in private accommodation in towns. It was the responsibility of townsmen to organise these makeshift prisons, and this charge often proved costly. The fundamental difference with the Hundred Years War lies in the fact that during the Thirty Years War all these operations were coordinated by the king or his officials. The practice of ransoming had been slowly shaped by combatants over the centuries, to be tightly controlled eventually by the authorities. 6 A. Corvisier, ‘Quelques aspects de la captivité militaire au XVIIe siècle: le sort des prisonniers de guerre espagnols en France de 1635 à 1648’, in A. Corvisier, Les Hommes, la guerre et la mort (Paris, 1985), pp. 315–66, at p. 318.

263

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285

Index

‘a butin’ see associations; ‘compagnies à butin’; spoils of war Abbeville 46 abbeys, used as prisons 119 Abrecourt, Jean d’ 211 acquisition of prisoners 78–9, 257 Charles V and Franco-Castilian alliance 61–5 Charles VII and the Auld Alliance 65–71 Edward III and Neville’s Cross 56–7, 61 Henry IV and Humbleton Hill 58–61 rules of 52–5 Acrimont, Pierre d’ 133 Agincourt 9, 11, 67, 71, 102, 109 brothers-in-arms 244 and Chauvigny 189–90 and the duke of Alençon 105 scales of ransoms 147, 148, 149 transfer of prisoners 111–12, 114 Alaine, Huet 120, 123–4 Albret, Bernard d’ 43, 110, 254 ‘Alemaigne’ 209 Alençon 46–7 Alençon, Jean I duke of 105 Alençon, Jean II duke of 33, 138 Alençon, Phillippe d’, bishop of Beauvais 134 allegiance, changing 14, 33, 91–3, 157, 252, 257 Allmand, Christopher 14 Alphonso V, king of Aragon 161n.3 Amboise, Pierre II d’, vicomte of Thouars 197n.69 Amiens 31, 53 Amiot, Perrot 50 Ancient Petitions (England) 207 Angie, Thomas 69 Angoulême 123 Anisy, Jean d’ 157 Anjou, Louis I, king of Jerusalem, duke of 161n.3, 223

Anjou, René I, duke of 44, 204n.7 Annales Ricardi Secundi 101 Anthon 37 Anthony of Burgundy, duke of Brabant 33 appeals for funds by princes 197–9 see also taxation Aquitaine 61 Archiac, Jeanne d’ 196, 196n.68, 197, 249 Ardres 236 Armagnac, Jean d’ see Jean III, count of Armagnac Armagnac/Burgundy civil war 136–7 Armstrong, C.A.J. 141 Arques 96n.66, 238 Arras, Franquet d’ 26 Arras, Treaty of 8, 28 Artois, Charles d’, count of Eu 67, 69, 130n.13, 132, 137, 156n.143 Arundel, Thomas of 196n.68, 253 associations, profit sharing 110–11 Auberchicourt, Eustache d’ 108 Audruicq 236 Auld Alliance 65–71, 79 Aulton, Thomas 97n.71 Auray 102, 136 Auvergne 198 Auvergne, Martial d’ 118 Auxerre 48, 50 Avicet, Jean 83n.10 Avranches 44, 95, 143 Aymet, lord of 237 Ayton, Andrew 12 Azay 38 Baille, Pierre 94, 109n.60 Baldry, William 176 Balliol, Edward 57–8

286

Index Balsac, Robert de 191 bankers, and money-changing 164–5 bankruptcy 10, 50–1, 141 Bernard de Semains 214 and Jean le Rousselet 10 and John More 10 sureties against 171 bans, on private ransom 13–14 Bar, Bourg de 117–18 Barbazan, Arnaud-Guilhem, lord of 46, 199–200 Barton, John Bakepus de 62n.52 Basin, Thomas, Bishop of Lisieux 88 Bassiers, Hellyn de 73n.110 Batrisby (or Kathersby), Oliver 173 battle, capture in 11 Baude, Bartholomew 166 Baudémont (Lower Normandy) 93 Bauffremont, Pierre de, lord of Charny 36–7 Baugé 66–7, 102, 156 Baulac, Jean de 225 Baume, Bâtard de la 124 Bayeux 84, 195 Bayeux, vicomte of 85 Bayezid, Sultan 48 Bean, John 12 Beauchamp, Richard, Earl of Warwick 153 Beaufort, Henry, Cardinal 68n.79 Beaufort, John, Earl (later Duke) of Somerset 41, 44, 66–70, 130n.13, 152 bought rights to count of Eu 156n.143 grant paid to 212 Beaufort, Roger de 248, 254 Beaufort, Thomas, count of Perche 66–8, 130n.13, 151, 156 Beaumont 168 Beaumont, John viscount of 173 Beaumont-en-Argonne 133 Beauvais 48, 128 Beauvaisis 180 Bec-Hellouin abbey 83–4 Bedford, John, Duke of 89n.39 Bekks, Stephen 177 Bell, Adrian 232 Bennet, John 60 Bériac-Lainé, Françoise 9, 11, 14, 57, 102, 121–2, 147–8, 223 Bernard, Walter 95, 170 Bernay 235 Berney, John 153 Berry, Jean, duke of 192n.40, 209, 212, 224–5 Berry Herald 133 Berry, Marie de, countess of Auvergne 248 Bertram, Robert 57n.25 Betancourt, Colyn de 149 Biche, count of 209

Bigot, Jean, châtelain de Mareuil 144 billion 162–3 counterfeit 164 bills of exchange 165–7 Billy, Jean 73n.110 Black Prince see Edward of Woodstock Blaisy, Alexandre 233–4 Blankmouster, Sir John 103, 113 Blois 120, 138 Blondeau, Huguet 213 Blondeau, Pierre 123, 139n.60 Blondel, Oudart and Jean 254 Blosset, Colard 73n.106 Blount, Thomas 77 Boccanegra, Antonio de 62 Bois-de-Malesherbes 139 Bolton, J.-L. 165, 171–2, 176 Bonin, Jacques 110 Bonnebauld, Dauphine de 188n.23 booty see spoils of war Bordeaux 174, 181, 227 Borromei bank 166 Boscherville, Hector de 73n.106 Boucicaut, Jean II le Meingre, dit 132–3, 137, 154, 218, 220 Boulogne 190n.30 Boulogne, Jeanne de, countess of Boulogne and Auvergne 188n.23 Bourbon, Marie, duchess of 187 Bourbon, duke of, Jean de Clermont 65, 67, 130n.13, 170, 171, 187 and John Beaufort 70n.88 and Thomas Beaufort 68n.79 wife’s endeavours to secure his release 248 Bourbon, Louis de see Vendôme, Louis de Bourbon, count of Bourbon, Marguerite, Bâtarde of 188n.23 Bourbourg 236 Bourchier, Sir John 144 accompanied in captivity by servants 121 aided by Maud (wife) 209, 248 expenses in captivity 140, 143 petition to English parliament 207 Bourcier, Pierre 93–4 Bourges 156 Bourguignan, Ponchon de 140 Bournel, Louis, lord of Thiembronne 34, 121 Bourse, Clément 224 Bouteiller, Guillaume 154 Bouton, Philippe 247 Bovet, Honorat de 8, 20–2, 125 on deciding level of ransom 128 on ownership of prisoners 24 on prisoners being handed over to the king 52 on prisoners in danger of death 54

287

Index Bower, John 244 Bowers, Walter 59 Bowes, Sir John 208, 243 Boys, Richard and Robert 254 Brabant, Anthony of Burgundy, duke of, 33 Braquemont, Guillaume 43 Braquemont, Jean 122 Bréquigny, L. de 84 Brereton, William 177 Bressoles, Catherine de 188n.23 Brestel, Godart de 255 Brestel, Guyot de 255 Brétigny-Calais, Treaty/Peace of 14, 99, 148, 238 Breton, Jacques 35n.83 Breton, Thomas 46 brigands 87–91, 96–7 and Jean de Saint-Denis 178 Brimeu family 222 Brimeu, Guérart de 6, 222 Brimeu, Jean de 133 Brinvilliers, Savage de 133–4, 135, 179, 206 Brittany, duke of 65, 179, 234 see also individual dukes brokerage, ransom 10–11 brothers 253–5, 256 brothers-in-arms 243–5 Brown, E.A.R. 184 Brown (prisoner at Calais) 156 Bruges 165 Buchan, Earl of see Stuart, John Buchete, pursuivant of the Bâtard of Orléans 139 Bucton, William 114, 150, 240 Bueil, Jean de 24, 152, 157 Bulgnéville 117 bullettes 82 Burgh, Thomas 114, 143, 214–15 Burgundy, dukes of 12n.48 assistance to prisoners 130–1 John the Fearless assistance to prisoners 223 assisting captains to pay ransom for their men 234 battle plan for taking prisoners 104–5, 258 and Boucicaut 220 capture at Nicopolis 48, 186 compensation for capture 215–16 exchange of prisoners 154 household members 222, 224 loan for ransom 170 murder of 53, 65 pressure on merchants to pay his ransom 172 Philip the Bold 48, 186, 204, 219n.88 Philip the Good

assistance to prisoners 205, 219, 220–1 and Etienne le Clerc 231 exchange of prisoners 112, 228n.132 and Franquet d’Arras 26 and Georges de la Trémoille 137 and Jean Régnier 128, 135, 231 and loyalty 211, 212 and Macé de Rochebaron 253 percentage of nobility in household 218 purchase of prisoner 42 Robert II 204 Burley, Simon 25, 27, 48, 249–50 Butler, James, Earl of Ormond 130 Butler, John 130, 173 Buxhill, Alan 224, 234n.26 Byset, Jean 177 Bysshop, John 177 Cachelewe, John 215 Caen 71, 89–90, 96, 238 Caernarfon castle 73, 76n.125 Cagny, Perceval de 72, 77, 110 Calais 31, 53, 99 deal offered to Gaucourt and Estouteville 74–5 and Jean de Vendôme 168–9 prisoners held by men of 112, 146, 148 scales of ransoms 147 Calais-Brétigny, treaty of 14, 99, 238 Callowe, William 114 Camprémy, Jean de 180, 240 captains, and their men 232–9, 245 Captal de Buch see Grailly, Jean de captivity 115–25 cost of 137–45 capturing prisoners, process of 11, 102–11 Caradenec,Yvon de 176, 180–1 Carentan 23–4n.21, 238 cartels 262 Cassel 102 Castile (Spain) 235 Castillon 15–16, 102, 174, 236–7, 238 castles and economy of ransoming 2 used as prisons 73, 76n.125, 119, 122–3 see also escapes; individual castles categories of prisoners, and ransoms 148–9 Catherine, Saint 46–7, 49n.151, 50, 123n.145 Caudebec 238 Cayeu, Jean de 160–1, 169, 229 ‘cédule’ 169 Cera, Louis de 35n.83 Cesse, Guichard 138 Chalon-sur-Saône 37 Chalons, Huguenyn de 73n.110 chamber, king’s 227n.127

288

Index Chamberlain, John 116 Chamborant, Humbert de 115 Champdenay, Eudes de 157n.148 Chandos, John 25 Charles, Dauphin see Charles VII Charles de Blois, duke of Brittany 14, 49n.151, 123n.145, 130n.13, 133, 187 Charles (duke of Bourbon’s son) 69 Charles, duke of Orléans see Orléans, Charles, duke of Charles, ‘messire’ 146 Charles V 14, 200 and Béraud de Taillat 178 and Bertrand du Guesclin 136 and Franco-Castilian alliance 61–5 and Guillaume des Bordes 219n.88 and Guyot Grassin 204 and Jean de Grailly 137 and Jean de Kerlouet 234n.27 ransom aid 199, 225 ratification of treaty of Toledo 62 and Savage de Brinvilliers 134 and security of prisoners 116–17 and Yvon de Trémagon 208 Charles VI 14n.57, 75 agreement for assistance to brother 204 praise of Fouquet de Courtravel 211 ransom aid 192, 225 Charles VII 16 and the Auld Alliance 65–71, 79 and estates of Poitou assembly 195, 197 letters of remission 213 licences to trade 179 patronage 206 ransom aid 192, 199, 234, 242–3 and Jean de Vendôme 134, 169n.45, 227 and John Stuart Darnley 198–9 and Raoul de Gaucourt 219–20 Charny, Geoffroy de 108, 119–20 on agreements between masters and prisoners 146–7 on honour 34 on increasing price of ransoms 157n.148 law of arms 22, 24 on places of imprisonment 119–20 on taking the word of prisoners 107, 108 Chartres, vidame of see Vendôme, Jean de chasse 104–5 Chasteignier, Jeanne de 179, 249 Château-Gaillard 46 Châteaugontier 168 Châteauneuf brothers 209–10, 222 Châteauvillain, Guillaume, lord of 36, 37, 137, 139, 140–1, 143 competition between brothers 254–5

Châtillon, Hugues de, lord of Dampierre 45–6, 48, 123, 199, 249–50 escape of 122 Châtillon, Jean de, lord of Troissy 237n.45 Chaucer, Geoffrey 243–4 Chauvigny, Guy de 192 Chauvigny, Hugues de 188n.23 Chauvigny, Jean de, lord of Blot and Viviers 185, 187–92, 201, 215 Chauvigny, Jean II de, Lord of Blot and Viviers 188n.23 Chauvigny, Jean IV de, lord of Blot and Viviers 188n.23 Cherbourg 135, 238 Cheshire 101 Chesnel, Robert 49 Chester Herald 139 Chevalier deliberé (La Marche) 108 Chevers, Jean de 73n.110 children, help to captured fathers 250–3 Chinillaco, Strabon 45 chivalry, courts of 26–7, 28 Christianity/Church, effect on ransoming 1 Chronicles of London 72 Chronique des Quatre Premiers Valois 13, 63–4, 257–8 Chronique dite de la Pucelle (Cousinot) 38 Cité des dames (Pizan) 247 civil war, French 47 Clanvow, John 224, 243–4 Clarence, Margaret, Duchess of 68n.79, 151, 152, 154, 156 Clarence, Thomas, Duke of 192 Clère, Georges de 73n.106 Clerk, Richard 45 Clermont, Jaques de 239n.53 Clermont, Jean de see Bourbon, duke of Clifford, Lord 77 Clyfton, John 174n.82, 213 Cocherel 133 codes of conduct for ransoming prisoners 3–4 in war 4 see also law of arms codes of honour 27 Coëtivy, Olivier de 170, 259 amount of ransom 130 documents of ransom 42–3 grants 174n.82 and trade 174, 176, 180–1 Commarques, Bos de 113 Commarques, Jean de 113 Commons of England 207–8, 242, 250 ‘compagnies à butin’ 240–1 compagnies d’aventure 111 companions 239–43, 255

289

Index Compiègne 38, 217, 254 Coniers, Hugues 146 connections, and value of prisoners 135–6 Contamine, Philippe 4, 13, 14, 52, 15–16, 96, 129, 142, 148, 149, 150, 262 contracts 261 for acquisition of prisoners 55 between master and prisoner 107–9 between masters and keepers of prisoners 124 between men of unequal status 261 brothers-in-arms 244 law of 39–45, 51, 259 of recruitment see indentures of war for royal rights on ransoms 149 transfer of prisoners 111–12 Cooley, Thomas 143, 157–8 Coquerel, Gilet and Jaquotin 157 Cornwall, Sir John 115 and the capture of Ghillebert de Lannoy 101, 112 and the count of Vendôme 67, 77, 154 and Raoul de Gaucourt and Jean d’Estouteville 156 Conwy castle 73, 76n.125 Cotentin 96–7 counter-rolls 96, 158, 260 on les marz 141–2, 143 sales of prisoners 145 scales of ransoms 149 counterfeit money 84, 164, 251–2 courage 211 Courant, Bertrand 110 Court of the Requests of Paris 72–3 Courtenay, Richard, Bishop of Norwich 76–7 Courtois, Jean (Sicily Herald) 161 Courtrai 102 Courtravel, Fouquet de 211 courts of chivalry 26–7, 28 Cousinot, Guillaume II de 34, 38, 69n.82, 174n.82, 182–3, 184–5, 200, 236 Coustave, Robert de, lord of Bien-Assis 195 Crassey, Pierre de 45 Cravant 70, 81, 102 Crécy 102, 214 Cressingham, Peter 236 Cresswell, John 238 Cressy, John 6 criminalisation, of prisoners of war 91–7 Crispyn, Guillaume 73n.106 Croissant, Order of 245n.87 Cromwell, Ralph 83 Cros, Jean, bishop of Limoges 225 Croÿ, Antoine, lord of 112–13 Croÿ,Victor, Bâtard of 46 currencies 87, 127n.3 see also money

Curry, Anne 29, 81, 105, 158 Cusack, Thomas 138 custom 22, 23n.18 ‘custom of the household’ 204 customary aids 184–5, 191–2, 200–1 ransom aids 184–92, royal taxation 192–200 Cuvelier 48, 234–5 Dageny, Sir John 55 Dammartin, Guillaume de 44, 103, 109, 113 Dampierre, Lady 25 see also Châtillon, Hugues de, lord of Dampierre Danié, Gobault 199 Danville 93 Dardys, Edmund 254 Darnley, John Stuart 66, 70–1, 198–9 David II 56–7, 114 Delachenal, R. 63 Derval 133 Des Ages, Guillaume 34, 114–15, 121, 139n.59, 140 Des Bordes, Guillaume 122, 156, 219n.88 Des Loges, Jean 155 Des Prés, Jean 41n.113 Des Qesnes, Jean (alias Karados) 72n.101, 73n.106 Descroix, Jean 152 Devereux, John 238 Dijon 117 Dinan, Jacques de, lord of Montafilant 32, 134–5 dishonouring 35–7 Ditcham, Brain 65 Dol 44 Don, Robert 177 Dormie, Jean 60n.40 Dorset, Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter and Earl of 33 Douglas, Archibald, 4th Earl of Douglas 55–6, 59, 60–1, 78 Draper, G.I.A.D. 2 Drest, Robert 211 Drincham 236 Dring, Sir Thomas 213, 216, 226 droit de gage (security right) 19n.3 droit des armes see law of arms Du Bois, Huguenin 204–5 Du Bu, Jean 41n.113 Du Châtel, Jean 35, 106–7, 108 Du Châtel, Tanguy 46, 154 155 dauphin borrows money from 66 and Thomas Beaufort 68, 151, 156 and Thomas Rempston 166 Du Clou, Jean and Clavin 221

290

Index Du Fons, Pierre 46–7 Du Guesclin, Bertrand 63, 64, 101, 135, 136, 234–5, 238n.51 Du Guesclin, Olivier amount of ransom 135 appeals from king to help pay ransom 197–8 expenses of imprisonment 141, 142 and law of arms case 24, 157n.148 location of prison 119 and payment of ransoms of his men 234–5 transfer of funds for ransom 166 Du Mont Landry, Robinet 141 Du Pan, Pierre 225n.120 Du Parc, Alain 238n.51 Du Vergier, Olivier 50n.161 duels 35, 106–7 Duiguethen, Bernard 189 Dunbabin, Jean 3, 260 Dunbar, Thomas, 2nd Earl of Moray 59, 60 Duncan, Earl of Fife 57 Dunois, Jean de, Bâtard of Orléans and captivity of Jean d’Angoulême 68 duel between Painter and Jean Du Châtel 35, 106 efforts to free brothers 253 and heralds kept in captivity 47–8 and Osborn Mondefort 150, 239n.54 purchase of English prisoner 152 and Thomas Beaufort’s ransom 151 Dupont-Ferrier, G. 192 Duquesne, Thomassin 209 Durham ordinances 30 on capture 103, 104, 110 Durtal 211 Dyke, Hugh 171–2 Dynter, Edmond de 33

enslavement of prisoners 2 Entwistle, Bertram, baron of Briquebec 151n.118, 173, 174n.82 Escalat, Pierre d’ 154 escapes 122–5 Esneval, Robert d’ 72n.101, 73n.106 Esse 238 estates general/provincial 193–7, 200 Poitou 195–200, 201–2 Estfeld, William 171–2 Estouteville, Charles d’ 73n.106 Estouteville, Guillaume d’ 73n.106 Estouteville, Jean d’ 67, 72–5, 73n.106 exchange of prisoners 156 value as prisoner 128 Estouteville, Louis, lord of 155–6 Eu 238 Eu, count of see Artois, Charles d’ Eudin, Enguerran d’ 241–2 ‘evident necessity’ 186 Evreux 154 Evreux, Aubert d’ 73n.106 Ewes, Robert de 100n.7 exchange of prisoners 228, 257, 262–3 in 17th century 263 as substitute for ransom 150–1, 153–8 execution of prisoners 3, 29, 38–9 as retaliation 46–8

Eaucourt, Jean d’ 211 economy, effect of ransoming on 2 Edward III 14, 56–7, 61 assistance to prisoners 203, 224 buying prisoners 147–8 and Guillaume de Motes 206, 214 indenture package 99–100 and the Mint 164–5 petitions 206, 248 and ransoming of David II 57 and rebates 156 and value of French coins 163 Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince, Prince of Wales 61, 103, 113 Elizabeth (wife of John Knyvet) 231 Elmham, Sir William 236 Emeville, Guyonnet d’ 73n.106 enquiries, petitions and 214–16 Enrique II 64–5

Falaise 123 family 230, 246, 255, 263 parents and sons 250–3 in same military company 234 siblings 253–5 wives 209n.32, 213, 246–50 Farringdon, Sir William 236 Fastolf, Sir John 5, 106, 141, 153, 230 ‘Favière’ 96 fealty oaths of Normans in English territories 82 see also word of honour Felton, Thomas 156 and wife 248 Ferrara (Italy) 187 Ferrers, Sir Henry 236 Ferrour, Philip 94n.57 Fetot, Arnaud 46 fetters 49, 75–6, 116, 117–18, 120, 246, 247–8 feudalism 184 Fierbois 50 Fitzhugh, Henry 39 FitzRalph, Robert 236 Flavy, Guillaume de 133 Flete, Simon 149, 212 Flisc, Marcellin 122 Fogg, Sir Thomas 99, 100n.7, 207

291

Index Foix, Gaston Fébus, count of 41n.110, 43 Foix, Jean de, Earl of Kendall 130n.13, 173, 174n.82, 175–6 Forest, Guillaume de 122 Formigny 102, 213 Forrester, Sir Adam 60 Foucault, Aubert de 195 Foucault, Jean 194, 195 Fourteneiz, Enguerrand de 73n.106 Franco-Scottish ordinances 29, 103n.24, 104–5 French civil war 47 Fresnay, Gilbert de 247 Fresnay-le-Vicomte 239 Fribourg, Conrad de, count of Neuchâtel 221 Fribourg, Jean de 220–1 Friedman,Yvonne 2 friends/friendship 222, 229–32, 255 and companions 239, 245 Froggenhale, Richard 142 Froissart, Jean 25, 27 on captains paying ransoms of their men 233, 234–5 on Charles V and Franco-Castilian alliance 64 on the profits of ransoming 98–9 on the pursuit of the enemy 104 on rescued prisoners 108 on retaliation 45–6 on Soubise 63 valuing prisoners 129 on varlets of prisoners 38 on wife of Hugues de Châtillon 250, functions of prisoners, and ransom value 131–3 Futon, John 69 Fylson, John 177 Galehault, Gadifer 46 Galles, Raoul de 73n.106 Gamaches, Guillaume and Philippe 254 Garin, Jean de 39 Garnier, Guillaume 230 Garnier, Jehannin 252 Gascon Rolls 172 gates (city), as prisons 119–20 Gaucourt, Raoul de 67, 72–5, 219–20 compensation for imprisonment 199 exchange of prisoners 155–6 king’s appeal for funds on behalf of 198–9 value as prisoner 128 Gaunt, John of 6n.22, 25, 54, 55, 203–4 Gauseville, Pierre de 73n.106 Gautier, Pierre 167 Gauvard, Claude 47, 229–30 Geltner, Guy 118 Gencian, Henri 25–6, 27–8, 37, 124–5, 136 George, Earl of Angus 59 Gerrard, William 116

Ghent 203n.3 Ghistelles, Louis de 215–16 Gillingham, John 1 Girard, Jean 164n.21 Girart, Raoul 164 Gireseme, Sinador de 5, 131 Gisors 239 Given-Wilson, Chris 9, 11, 14, 57, 60, 102, 121–2, 147–8, 223 Glasdale, William 111 Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke of 73–4, 189 Godebec, William 5, 91 Godefroy, Perrot 138 gold (coinage) 162–4, 167 see also currencies; money Golden Fleece (order of chivalry) 36–7, 222 see also Jason and the Golden Fleece Gommegnies, John, lord 236 Good Parliament of 1376 207 Goodman, Anthony 232 Goodrich, Joan 249 Gough, Matthew 6, 154, 195 Gournay 238 Gournay, Matthew 99, 100n.7, 207, 235 Gouron, André 23n.18 Gower, John 100–1 Graham, Sir William 60 Grailly, Jean de, captal de Buch 25, 63–4, 119, 129, 137, 210n.36 Graincourt, Regnault de 73n.110 Grancey, Eude, lord of 250–1 grants of petitions 216–22, 226–7 amounts 222–6 Grasse (man at siege of Meaux) 75n.121 Grassin, Guyot 203–4 Gray, Sir Thomas 99 Great Peace of Brétigny/Calais 14n.57 Greece prisoners of war in 1n.1 tombstone of knights in 243 Greineville, Guillaume 73n.110 Gressart, Perrinet 41n.113, 156, 218n.77, 235 Gribauval, Enguerran de 133 Grotius, Hugo 262 guarding prisoners 29, 115–18, 123–5 ‘Guascoin, Turel’ 167 Guerre, état et société à la fin du Moyen Age (Contamine) 15 guerrilla warfare 11, 87–91, 97 Guichard, Pierre 170 Guillem, Regnault 46–7, 233 Guise 199 Hale, Richard 174n.82 Haliburton, Walter de 57n.25 Hambye 91, 238

292

Index Hammes 73, 138 Hamon, Simon 114 Handford, John 41, 45, 139, 143n.88, 152, 153 Harcourt, Jacques de, baron of Montgomery 190n.30 Harfleur 33, 72–7, 128, 138, 146, 198 Harling, Robert 39–40 Harpenden, Sir John 207 Harper, Geoffrey 243 Hastings, John, Earl of Pembroke 62–3, 130n.13, 165, 232 Hattin, battle of 2, 3 Haut-Limousin 194 Hays, Denys 12, 27 Hazars, Sir Pierre de 60n.40 Heilly, Sir Jacques de 60n.40 Henneman, John H.B. 185–6, 200 Henry IV 55–6, 58–61 and Edmund White 174 grants to petitions 225 Percy’s case against 78 Henry V 14n.57, 17, 190 exchange of prisoners 155 Mantes ordinances 30 and negotiations for surrender 236 and Normandy 33, 80–4 and prisoners 67, 71–8, 79 rules of capture 103–4 Henry VI grant of petitions 212–13, 226 grant for Pierre Rousseau 139n.64 grant to Jean de Foix 175 and Sir John Knyvet 213, 231 licences to trade 179 heralds 33, 43, 47–8 Berry 133 Chester 139 Sicily 161 used as intermediaries 139, 161 Herbi, Jean 139 Herdson, William 94–5 Heusson 121 Hilton, Richard 164n.21 Histoire de Charles VI (Juvénal des Ursins) 38 Holland, John, Earl of Huntingdon 66–7, 130n.13, 154, 156, 207, 212 Holme, John 177 honour 31–9, 51 codes of 27 knightly 28, 31–2 perceived attack on Henry V’s 76–7 Horable, Lady 209, 248–9 hostages 44–5, 139–40, 169 brothers as 254 brothers-in-arms as 244 for companions 243

sons as 252 wives as 246–50 ‘Hotspur’ see Percy, Henry ‘Hotspur’ houses, as prisons 120 Houy, James 174 Humbleton Hill 58–61 Hungerford, Margaret, Lady 165, 170–1 Hungerford, Walter I Lord 134, 152, 168, 170 Hungerford, Walter II Lord 134–5, 170 indentures of war 52–3, 100, 158 Edward III 99–100, John of Gaunt 203–4 Ingham, Oliver 214 Inglose, Henry 153 interrogation of prisoners 30 ius armorum see law of arms Jacob, William 177 Jaillet, Pierre 41 James of Scotland, Prince (future James I) 61 Jargeau 34, 38, 139 Jason and the Golden Fleece story 247 Jean, count of Nevers see John the Fearless Jean I, count of Armagnac 41n.110, 130n.13, 170, 187 Jean III, count of Armagnac 54, 201 Jean II le Bon 14 ordinances of war 239–40 ransom 148, 162, 163–4n.19, 165, 166, 185 ransom aid 185–6, 200 Joan of Arc 26, 47, 54, 237 capture of 110 Jodrell, Jean 6n.22 John of Bohemia 10n.45 John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy assistance to prisoners 223 assisting captains pay ransom for their men 234 battle plan for taking prisoners 104–5, 258 and Boucicaut 220 capture at Nicopolis 48, 186 compensation for capture 215–16 exchange of prisoners 154 household members 222, 224 loan for ransom 170 murder of 53, 65 pressure on merchants to pay his ransom 172 John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster 6n.22, 25, 54, 55, 203–4 John II see Jean II le Bon joint-ownership of a prisoner 24 Jones, Michael K. 10, 14, 121, 129, 150, 152, 153, 205, 225, 228n.133 Jouet, René 90

293

Index Journelle, Guillaume de 227 Juvénal des Ursins, Jean 38, 46, 251 Keen, Maurice 19–21, 30, 54, 129, 244 Kelyng, Walter 45 Kempton, William 114 Kergoët, Guillaume 225n.120 Kerlouet, Jean de 234 killing prisoners see execution of prisoners King, Andy 13n.53 kings see individual rulers; princes Kirkeby, Thomas 173, 174n.82, 235 Knolles, Robert 53, 99–100 Knyvet, Sir John 213, 231 Kyriel, Sir Thomas 163, 173 La Baume, Bâtard of 43, 123 La Bovesserie, Robin de 44, 143 La Buissière 70 La Chapelle, Mérigon de 50–1 La Charité-sur-Loire 68 La Fayette, Gilbert de 152 La Ferté 168 La Guierche 168 La Haie, Jean de 6 La Hire (Etienne de Vigneulles) 35, 89n.41, 198–9 La Marche, Antoine de 220–1 La Marche, Bâtard of 35 La Marche, Olivier de 108 La Mote, Jean de 176n.94 La Palu, François de, lord of Varambon 25, 37, 124–5, 136 La Pole, John de 38 La Pole, William de, Earl of Suffolk 34, 38, 77, 91–2, 151, 152, 254 La Rivière, Pierre de 211–12 La Roche, Jean de 248 La Roche-sur-Yon 238 La Rochelle 38, 62–3, 164, 198 La Trémoille, Georges de 137, 218n.77, 235 La Trémoille, Georges de, baron of Sully and Craon 188n.23 La Viesville, Guillaume de 224 La Viesville, Pierre de 251n.120 Labé, Jean 124 Lacre, Robert 189 Laigle 93 Lalande, Jean de, seigneur de La Brède 174n.82 l’Allemant, Baudet 50 Lancaster, Duke of see John of Gaunt lands, and levels of ransom 129 Langlois, Colin 164, Langworth, Elias 174n.82 Languedoc 199 Lannoy, Ghillebert de 101, 112, 117n.105

Lannoy, Macé de 239n.54 l’Aragonais, François 41n.113 Lattre, Boquet de 224, 233–4 Launac 41n.110, 102, 187, Laurent (in company of Bâtard of Thien) 46 Laval 157 Laval, André de, lord of Lohéac 113, 150 law of arms 4, 20–8, 29, 43, 51, 83, 157 and the law of contract 43–4 and royal ordinances of war 29–31 law of contract 39–45, 259 see also contracts law of war and peace,The (Grotius) 262 Le Bègue, Guillaume 143 ‘Le Bestot, Despert’ 246 Le Bigourdais, Pierre 89 Le Clerc, Etienne 212 Le Crotoy 164 Le Fauconnier, Robinet 240 Le Forestier, Olivier 155, 254 Le Forestier, Pierre 124, 155, 254 Le Gros, Henriet 140, 141, 143, 144 Le Houdent, Guillaume 144n.91, 224 Le Jouvencel 24, 109, 125 on captains paying ransoms of their men 234–5 guarding prisoners 115, 116, 117 on royal ordinances of war 28 rules of capture 105–6, 110 word of a noble 32 Le Maire, Martin 139n.60 Le Mans 69, 110, 125 Le Porc, Pierre 97 Le Puiset 47, 118 Le Rousselet, Jean 10, 17, 216 Le Verrat, Pierre 124 Leclerc, Gilles 215–16, 223–4 L’Écluse 102 Legouppil, John 152 Leheux, Guillaume 5, 90–1, 95, 138 Leland, John 134 Léry, vicomte of 215 Les demandes pour la jouste, la tournoi et la guerre (Charny) 22, 24, 107, 109–10, 146–7, 157n.148 ‘les marz’ 24, 141–5, 149, 159, 260–1 lèse-majesté 8 Lesparre, Florimont de 156n.145, 209 and wife 248 Letrais, Robin and Estiennette 249 letters of obligation 41, 43, 44 letters of protection 82 letters of remission 92, 134, 230, 252 Charles V 178 Charles VII 206, 213 and licence to trade 179 lex talionis 45–8, 51, 261

294

Index licences to trade 134, 172–7, 228 with the enemy 177–81 wives of prisoners 249 Liger, Claude 23n.18 Lillebourne, William 60 Limoges 25, 195 Limousin 95, 198 L’Isle, Gasse de 182n.122 loans 170–2, 229 Lointren, Gilet de 93, 135 Longchamp, Brunet de 73n.106 Longe, Thomas 179 Lopez de Ayala 63 Louis, Dauphin (future Louis XI) 200 Louis, duke of Orléans 204 Louis IX 186 Louis XI 200 Louis XIV 263 Louvain, Nicolas de 45–6, 249 Louviers 154 Louvre 118–19 Lower, Hannequin 116 loyalty, and petitions for assistance 210–14 Lucy, Thomas de 57n.25 Lunel, Marie de 164n.21 Lusignan 123, 238 Lussac 25 Luxembourg, Pierre de, lord of Enghien 161n.3 Luxembourg, Waléran de, count of Saint-Pol 130n.13, 254 Lyon 187, 199 Macdonald, A.J. 59 MacDowell, Douglas 57n.25 Macé, Jean 238n.51 McFarlane, Bruce 244 Maddern, Philippa 230 Maddok, Hugh 212–13, 216 Magna Carta 185 Maignelais, Jean (Tristan) 170 Maignies (Menzies?), David 53 Mailly, Bâtard de 136 Mailly, Colard de 136 maintenance fees of prisoners 137–45 ‘les marz’ 24, 141–5, 159 Malet, John 109, 110 Mantes ordinances 30, 104 Marchant, André 131, 251–2 Marchegay, Pierre 42–3 Marck 217 Mareuil, lord of 6n.22 Margaret, Lady Hungerford 165 Marguerite d’Anjou 92 Martel, Jean 252 Martigny, Pierre de 179–80 Martin, Jean 95, 170

masters defined 19–20 guaranteeing prisoner’s safekeeping 108–9, 259 treatment by Henry V 77–8 see also treatment of prisoners Mathan, Jean de 91–2, 142 Mattéoni, Olivier 227n.127 Maud (wife of Bourchier) 209 Mautby (Mautbye), John 153 Mayenne 91 Meaux 75, 77 medical attention for prisoners 140, 144 mêlée 105–6 Melun 46, 179 Melun, Jean de 36 Menon, lord of 34, 115, 121, 139n.59, 140 Menteith (Monteith?), Earl of 57n.25 Menzies, David see Maignies Merbury, John 238–9 Merbury, Richard 93–4 merchants and money-changing 164 and money-lending 170–2 and money transfer 166–7 partnerships with prisoners 176–7 prisoners as 177–81 and speculation in prisoners 146, 158 mercy 21, 26 messengers 139 Meuillon, Guillaume de 138n.57 Meulan 46 Meung-sur-Loire 239 Meausc 46, 75 military society 245–6 Milly, L’Étandard de 83 Miracles of Sainte-Catherine-de Fierbois 50 Mirouer aux Dames (Bouton) 247 Misanz, Raymond de 209–10, 222 Moleyns, Robert lord amount of ransom 130, 134–5, 139 expenses in captivity 140, 143 loans for ransom 170, 171, Molpré, Louis de 107n.43 Molyneux, Nicolas de 244 Monbrasean, Pierre de 73n.110 money 48–51 see also currencies money-changing 162–5 money-lending 170–2 money transfer 165–9 Monluc, Blaise de 129 Mons-en-Vimeu 228n.132 Mont-Saint-Michel 45, 91, 177, 243 Montagu, Thomas, Earl of Salisbury 124, 210 Montagu, William I, Earl of Salisbury 10n.45

295

Index Montagu, William II, Earl of Salisbury 113 Montbrun, Jean de 195 Montbrun, Pierre de, bishop of Limoges 195 Montendre, Guillaume de 210n.36 Montereau 53 Montferrand, Bertrand, lord of 173 Montferrand, Pierre de (Soudan de la Trau), lord of Lesparre 173 Montfort, Aubert de 156 Montgomery, Sir John 60 Montguyon 238 Montivilliers 146 Montléon, Renaud de 209, 224–5, 248–9 Montmor, Jacques and Morelet 64 Montmorency, lord of 206 Montpipeau 145–6 Montpont 25 Montvilliers 238 More, John 10, 209n.32 Moret, Jean 123 Mornay, Marguerite de 247 Mortagnes 93 Mortain 235 Mortymer, John 225 Mosdale, John 58 Motes, Guillaume de 206 Mundeford, Osbert 150, 239 Muslim world 2–3 Mussidan, lord of 206 Nabulsi, K. 87 Nájera (Spain) 61, 136 Nantouillet, Boort de 241 Narbonne, Aimery de, 62n.51 negotiations 263 with the enemy 160–2 treaties of surrender 235–9 Nevale, Charles de 149 Nevers, count of see John the Fearless Neville, Jean de 55 Neville, John, Lord 179 Neville, William, lord Fauconberg 173, 174–5, 177, 224, 242, 243–4 Neville’s Cross 56–7 Newgate Prison 119n.117 Newhall, R.A. 83, 88 Nicopolis 48, 217, 220 nobles conditions of imprisonment 121–2 grants of petitions 218–22 honour 31–9 money-lending 170–2 ransom aids 187–92, 200–1 and transfer of prisoners 113–15

see also valuing prisoners Nocé, Borgne de 94–5, 96 Nogent 154 non-combatants 6–7, 7n.30, 87, 89n.39 non-nobles 26, 28 capture of 37–8 grants of petitions 218, 226–7 and heralds as intermediaries 161 nobles surrendering to 34 prisoners of Henry V 72–7 and ransom aids 186–92 service to the crown 210–11 standardisation of ransoms 149, 159–5, 260–1 Norbury, Henry 173 Norbury, John 44, 131, 152–3 Nori, Simone d’Antonio 165, 171 Normandy 238 under English occupation 80–97 Northumberland, Earl of see Percy Henry, Earl of Northumberland oath-taking see word of honour oaths see surrendering obligation, letters of 41, 43, 44 Oiselar, Guillaume d’ 233–4 Okeley, John 46 Oldhall, William 47 ordinances of war 28–31, 51, 125–6, 158, 261 Durham 30, 103, 104, 110 Franco-Scottish 29, 103n.24, 104–5 Jean II le Bon 239–40 Mantes 30, 104 Orléans, siege of 47, 117–18 Orléans, Bâtard de see Dunois, Jean de Orléans, Charles, duke of 65 captivity of 14, 67, 124 daily expenses in captivity 138 and Dunois 253 exchange of prisoners 152 grant to Guillaume de Tournebu 214 and loan for ransom of brother 129 loans for ransom 170 ransom amount 130n.13 and safe-conducts 122 value of Romorantin 171 Orléans, Jean d’, count of Angoulême 67n.72 and Dunois 253 hostage in England 68, 129, 151–2, 153 and loan for ransom 170 and transfer of payment 166 Orléans, Louis, duke of 204 Orlye, Henry d’ 252 Ormond, John 174n.82, 178, 180, 254 Ouselles, Richard 156 Owen of Wales 62, 64

296

Index Painter, John 35, 106–7 Panassac, Galobie de 120, 124–5, 235 papal decree, for mercy 21 Parentis, Robert 5, 131–2, 133 Paris 31, 53 Court of the Requests 72–3 Parker, G. 262 Parlement of Paris 20 on brothers-in-arms 245 and Burley escape 249–50 Chauvigny case 187–92 Colard de Mailly case 136 and ‘deshonorement’ 36 Edward de Reguegnes and Thomas Burgh case 114 Fastolf and Sauvage case 5 Guillaume des Ages and lord of Menon case 114–15 Henri Gencian case 25–6 hostages of Bâtard of La Baume 43 Jean Martin and Walter Bernard case 95 and law of contract 43–5 Marchant/Sudré case 251 rules of acquisition of prisoners 53 Sinador de Giresme case 5, 131 Stafford case 180 storming of Le Mans 110 and Torsay dispute 253 Villeneuve case 164 parliament, English 207–8, 250 parole see word of honour partnerships 241–2 merchants and prisoners 176–7 Parvanchières, count of 32 Parys, Robert 131n.23 Paston, Margaret 153 Patay 102, 132, 134 pâtis (protection money) 93 patronage 206–8, 229 Pauniers, Pierre de 73n.110 payments coinage 87 of compensation to captors 54 money-changing 162–5 money transfer 165–9 types of 40 exchange of prisoners 150–1, 153–8 rebates 150, 152–3, 156 see also currencies; money Peace of Brétigny-Calais 99 Pedro I ’the Cruel’ 61–2 Péguillot, Jean 43 Pèlerin, Pierre 107n.43 Pembroke, Earl of see Hastings, John Penthièvre, Jean, count of 166, 170

Percy, Henry, Earl of Northumberland 59–60 Percy, Henry ‘Hotspur’ 55–6, 58–61, 78 Percy, Thomas 35, 119, 238 Pesteil, Guyot 132 petitions for assistance from princes 205–10 by wives 248–9 and enquiries 214–16 grants of 216–26 and service to the crown 210–14 Peyto, William 152, 153 Philip the Bold 48, 186, 204, 219n.88 Philip the Good assistance to prisoners 205, 219, 220–1 assisting captains to pay ransom for their men 234 and Etienne le Clerc 212 exchange of prisoners 112, 228n.132 and Franquet d’Arras 26 and Georges de la Trémoille 137 and Jean Régnier 128, 135, 231 and loyalty 211, 212 and Macé de Rochebaron 253 percentage of nobility in household 218 purchase of prisoner 42 Philip VI 10n.45, 187 and Guillaume de Vi 214 Phoebus, Gaston, count of Foix 41n.110, 43, 187 Picardy 204 Pizan, Christine de 54, 247 pledge-taking see word of honour Poitiers 9, 11, 98, 102, 103, 109, 147–8 Poitiers, Charles de, and wife 248 Poitou 198 estates of 195–200, 201–2 Polet, Jacob 216, 225–6 politics of ransoming 14–16 and value of prisoners 136–7 Pollard, Anthony 232 Pont-Audemer 149–50 Pont-Audemer, vicomte of 120 Pont-Authou, vicomte of 198 Pont-d’Ouve 238 Pont-Sainte-Maxence 246 Pontoise 163 Poolin, Pierre 89–90 Popham, Sir John 84 Postan, M.M. 175–6 Power, Eileen 175 Preston, Christopher 76n.129 princes 12 assistance to prisoners 203–5, 226–8 grants 216, 222–6 petitions and grants 205–16 through their captains 233–4

297

Index princes (cont.) entitlement to prisoners 54–5 political use of ransom 14–16 and royal ordinances of war 28–31 royal taxation 192–200 see also individual rulers prisoner of war defined 4–7, 19, 259–60 status of 120–2 prisons 118–22, 259, 263 costs of prisoners in captivity 137–41 Fleet 74 Newgate 119n.117 ‘prison courtoise’ (courteous prison) 113 see also castles private ransoms 8–9, 21, 257–8, 262 and public ransoms 12–18 private wars 7 process of ransoming 98 captivity 115–25 capturing prisoners 11, 102–11 profits 98–101 transfer of prisoners 111–15 see also valuing prisoners profits military society 245 of ransoming 98–101 see also shares of profits/spoils; spoils of war Prosopographia Burgundica 217n.76 protection money (pâtis) 93 public interest, prisoners of 53, 78 public ransoms, and private ransoms 12–18 public war 3 pursuit of the enemy 104–5 Rafman, John 230 Rais, Gilles, lord of 152 ransom, origins of concept 1–3 ransom aids 184–7 Chauvigny 187–92 see also princes, assistance to prisoners ransom culture 257 ransom market 145–50 Rapondi, Dino 48 Ratford, Henry and Ellen 248 Raynaud, Guillaume 34 rebates 150, 152–3, 156 Redford, Henry 152 Redman, Sir Matthew 207–8 Régnier, Jean 48–9, 50, 128–9, 132, 142 affect of connection to duke of Burgundy on ransom 135 on friends 229, 230–1 wife as hostage 246 Reguegnes, Edward de 114 Reidswire 58, 59

relatives see family Rémon, Guillaume 141, 142 Remonnet, Jean 50n.161 Rempston, Thomas 154, 170 amount of grant 224 bank accounts 165, 166 money loaned to 171–2 petition to Commons 208, 243 sharing profits 111 Renakers, Edward see Reguegnes, Edward de Renneval, Raould de 241–2 reputation 90 used to value prisoners 133–5 Resc, Guillaume 42, 112 rescoux/non rescoux (rescued or not rescued) provision 108–9, 258 resistance fighters see guerrilla warfare restauro equorum 13, 100 retaliation 45–8, 51, 261 Reyneville, Thibaut 73n.110 Ricarville, Guillaume de 200 Richard, Duke of York 92 Richard I 185 Richard II 30, 56n.18, 209–10 Richemont, Arthur count of 137 Rieux, Pierre de 134, 225 Rigaudière, Albert 191 rituals of surrender 72, 76n.130 Rivet, Pierre 42, 112–13, 114 Robert, duke of Bar 170, 171 Robert II, duke of Burgundy 204 Rochebaron, Jean de 6 Rochebaron, Macé de 253 Rochechouart, Guy de 152 Rochechouart, Jean de, lord of Mortemart 194 Rodemack, Jean de 42, 112–13, 140, 143 Roffignac, Jean de 251–2 Rolin, Girard 157 Rome (ancient) law 23, 186 prisoners of war in 1n.1 Romorantin 129, 151, 156, 171 Rostrenen, Pierre de 111 Rou, Pierre de 157n.146 Roucy, Hugues de 156n.145 Rouen 50, 86, 238 Rousseau, Pierre 139n.64, 224 ‘routes’ 239–40 Rowe, B.J.H. 92 Rowryk, John 174 royal taxation 192–200, 201–2 Rucquoi, A. 62 rulers see princes rules of acquisition of prisoners 52–5 Rully, Sagremor de 199

298

Index Rush, John 248 Rutherford, Sir Richard (and sons) 58 Sablé 157, 168 Sadeler, Robert 39 safe-conducts 41–2 and money-transfer 167–9 non-combatants 7n.30 in Normandy 85–7, 97 to trade 172–7, 228 St.-Loo, John 99 St. Cricq, Pierre-Amaud de 174n.82 Saint-Denis, Jean de 178 Saint-Denis, Monk of 47, 49, 71, 101, 118, 121 Saint-Germain, Waléran de 239 Saint-Ligier, Jean de 246 Saint-Mars, Hue de 196, 197 Saint-Omer 116, 123, 224 Saint-Pol, count of see Luxembourg, Waléran de Saint-Riquier 228n.132 Saint-Sauveur 123 Saintonge 198 Saintré, Jehan de 242 Sais, Sir Gregory 99, 100n.7, 207 Salisbury, Earl of see Montagu Salle, Antoine de la 242 Salle, Ralph 157n.148 salt, trade in 179 Sapynes, Hugues de 73n.106 Sarrebruch, Robert de, Damoiseau de Commercy 32 Sarrey, Gilles de 199 Saul, Nigel 100 Saulnier, Pierre 43 Saulx, Jean and Amé de 252 Sauvage, Denis 5 Saux 227 scales of ransom 149–50, 159–5, 223, 260–1 based on wages 262 Scales, Thomas lord 130, 132, 173, 174n.82 Schnerb, Bertrand 216 Scot, Robert 76, 156n.145 Scotland, and the Auld Alliance 65–71, 79 Scottish soldiers 31, 55–61 Auld Alliance and Charles VII 65–71 Séchelles, Agnès de 249–50 security 29, 115–18, 123–5 security right (‘droit de gage’) 19n.3 Seigneur, Jean 44, 143 seigneurial wars 7 selling prisoners 23, 145–50 Semains, Bernard de 214, 215 Sengleton, Bernard 189 see also Duigethen, Bernard Senoches 93 Sens 122

servants heralds as 161 prisoners’ 121–2 service to the crown 210–14, 222 shares of profits/spoils 16, 30–1, 110–11, 258–9 and brothers-in-arms 245 ‘compagnies à butin’ 240–1 of French captains 54–5 Le Jouvencel on 105–6 ‘thirds’ 12–13, 30, 115 Shrewsbury 56, 61 Sibbald, John 67n.71, 67n.73 siblings 253–5, 256 Sicily Herald 161 sieges 11 and captivity 118 treaties of surrender 235–9 Siete Partidas 36n.87 Sigismund, Emperor 75 Sillie 168 silver 162 Skydmore, John 174 social circle of the prisoners 229–32, 255–6 captains and their men 232–5 companions, partners, brothers-in-arms 239–45 family 246–55 soldiers, and their captains 232–5 Somerset, Earl (later Duke) of see Beaufort, John, Earl of Somerset Somerset, John, Bastard of 152 Sort, Ramonet de 54 Soubise 62, 63–5 sovereign authorities see princes sovereignty 8–10 spies 85 Spikesworth, John 236 spoils of war 7, 28–9, 62–5 see also shares of profits/spoils Spore, Thomas 179 Spufford, P. 162n.8 Stafford, Thomas 140n.67, 180, 240 Stapilton, Brian 152 status, and value of prisoners 130–1 Sterre, John 83n.10 Steward, John (Scot-Angle) 32, 163 Steward, Thomas 32, 163 Stewart, Murdoch, 2nd Duke of Albany 59, 60 Stille, John 5, 90, 138 Stowel, Robert 178 Strickland, Matthew 1–3, 4 Strother, John del 209n.32, 232 Stuart, John, Earl of Buchan 66–7, 154 Sudré, Jean 251–2 Suffolk, Earl of (later Duke) see La Pole, William de

299

Index sureties, against bankruptcy 171 surrendering 106–11, Swylyngdon (Swillington), Georges, 174n.82 Symon, Jean 96 Taillat, Béraud de 178 Taillement, Jean de 73n.110 taking prisoner’s faith see word of honour Talbot, John, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury and Bourg de Bar 117–18 capture of Pierre Boucier 93 and license to trade 179 and Poton de Xaintrailles 153 prisoners not considered prisoners of war 95 and ransoms of personal retinue 232 storming of Le Mans 110 and Yvon Caradenec 180–1 Talbot, John, 2nd Earl of Shrewsbury 43, 174 Tancarville 242 taxation 18, 200 royal 192–200, 201–2 on wool 175 see also customary aids Temple (Paris) 119 Tesson, Raoul 241 Thibaut, Jean 168 Thien, Bâtard of 46 ‘thirds’ 12–13, 30, 115, 258 Thirty Years War 263 Thomas, Antoine 193–4, 197 Thouars, vicomte of see Amboise, Pierre II d’ Thury 238 Tillay, Jean de 120 Timbal, Pierre-Clément 19n.3, 20, 240, 245, Toledo, treaty of 61–2 Torcy 236 Torsay, Guillaume de, lord of Melleran 196, 249, 253–4 Torsay, Jean de, lord of Lezay 196–7, 253–4 torture 49 Toulongeon, Jean de 70–1, 132, 219 Toureille,Valérie 88–9 tournaments 3–4 Tournebu, Guillaume de 214 Tournebu, Pierre de 252 Tournemine, Maurice 225n.120 Tower of London 73, 76, 119, 164–5 trade licences to 134, 172–81, 228 to raise funds 181–2 Trailly, John 103 transfer of prisoners 111–15 transportation of money 167–9 Trastamara, Enrique de 61 travel expenses 138–9 treason

in Lancastrian Normandy 82 see also criminalisation treaties Arras 8, 28 Brétigny 148 Calais-Brétigny 14, 99, 238 of surrender 235–9 Toledo 61–2 Troyes 6, 8, 17, 65, 80, 81, 97, 237, 260 Westminster 14 treatment of prisoners 17, 25–6, 37–8, 51 killing 29, 38–9, 46–8 and law of retaliation 48 medical attention 140, 144 and negotiation of ransom 136 torture 49, 127 Treaty Rolls 7n.30, 175 and licences to trade 172–3, 175, 177 with the enemy 178–9 on prisoners’ servants 121 Tree of Battles,The (Bovet) 8, 20–2, 52, 125 Trémagon,Yvon de 208 Tremedern, Jean de 112–13 Trenewyth, prisoner at Calais 156 Trivet, Sir Thomas 236 Troyes, Treaty of 6, 8, 17, 65, 80, 81, 97, 237, 260 Tuck, Anthony 206 Turgeville, Jean 73n.106 Turnbull, John 58 Turnebois, Stephen 146 Turre (de la Tour?), de 133, 135 Twyford, Sir Robert 207 Tybutot, Thomassin de 73n.106 Tyrrell, J. 194n.55, 196, 197 Umfraville, Gilbert 236n.36 usage of arms 22, 23n.18 usury see money-lending ‘Valeietz’, Jean 69 Vallières (Vallières-la-Grande) 66 Valmont, Michel 123–4 valuing prisoners 128–9, 259 added expenses 137–45 by their connections 135–6 categories 148–9 lands 129 reputation 133–5 status 130–1 strategy and politics 136–7 and their functions 131–3 Varambon see La Palu Varèze, Jean de 179 and wife 249

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Index varlets captured 38 and transfer of prisoners 112–13 Vaudémont, Antoine de 44 Vaul le comte, Jean de 212 Vaux, Jean des 164n.21 Vendôme 106, 168 Vendôme, Jean de, vidame de Chartres 44, 134, 152–3, 168–9, 199, 227 Vendôme, Louis de Bourbon, count of 67, 154, 155 and John Cornwall 77 ransom amount 130n.13 rights over John Holland 67, 156n.143 Vere, Robert de 166 Véretz (Indre-et-Loire) 154 Vernancourt, Eustache de 252 Verneuil 81, 93, 102, 138, 155, 179, 253 ‘aid fund’ 195–6, 201 Vernon 93 Vernon, Laurence 66–70, 152 Vertus, Philippe, count of 66 Vi, Guillaume de 214 Victor, Bâtard of Croÿ 46 Vienne, Guillaume de, lord of Bussy 221 Vienne, Guillaume de, lord of Saint-Georges 36, 220–1 Vieville, Jaket de 73n.110 Vigiles de la Mort de Charles VII (d’Auvergne) 118 Vignes, Pierre de 66 Vigneulles, Etienne de (La Hire) 35, 89n.41, 106, 198–9 Vigneulles, Philippe de 127 Vigotat, Guillaume 212 Villaines (near Le Mans) 50 Villandrando, Rodrigo de 37, 188n.23, 235 Villeneuve, Jean de 163–4, 164n.21 Villiers, John 153 Villiers, Pierre de 145–6,

vindictiveness, Henry V and prisoners 75–7 violence at capture 109–11, 125 Voudenay, Thomas 167 wages 262 Walker, Simon 232 Wallace, William 57n.25 Walles, John 144 Walsingham, Thomas 33 warhorses 13, 100, 204 Wasaers, Herlyn de 73n.110 Wavrin, Jean de 146 Welesby, Sir William 167 Wenyn, Raymon 209 Westminster, treaty of 14 Weston, William 236 White, Edmund 174, 176 Whittington, Richard 146 Wigtown, John, Earl of 57n.25 Willoughby, Robert 50 Winter, John 110, 244 wives 209–10, 213 wool 175–6 Worcester, Richard Beauchamp, Earl of 77 word of honour 23–4, 29, 32–3 after capture 103, 106–9 between classes 38–9, 51, 261 and petitions 216 Worsley, Sir Geoffrey 207 Wright, Nicholas 21, 27 Wrixworth, John 146, 224 Wykeham, William 100n.7 Wylby, Thomas 176 Wylde, John 167 Xaintrailles, Poton de 133, 153, 234, 242–3 Yolande of Flanders 171 York, Thomas 57n.25

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