Chapter 3
The story of the de Braose family is one of the most dramatic falls from favour in English history. William (III) de Braose (also spelt Briouze), fourth Lord of Bramber, was one of the most trusted advisors of King John, and one of his best friends. However, as a result de Braose knew John’s greatest secret, what happened to Arthur of Brittany, and this was to cause his spectacular downfall and the sad deaths of his wife and son in one of John’s dungeons. William de Braose’s dramatic fall from favour contributed considerably to baronial distrust and fear of the king, leading to the heightened tensions of 1212 onwards, and to the drawing up of Magna Carta itself.
The Braose family name comes from the Norman barony of Briouze-St Gervais, near Argentin, where William and his ancestors held three knights’ fees.1 William (III) was the son of William (II) de Braose and his wife, Bertha, the daughter and coheiress of Miles of Gloucester, first Earl of Hereford. The Braose family had held the castle and rape of Bramber, Sussex, since the eleventh century, when it was granted to William’s great-grandfather, William (I), by William the Conqueror. It was the first William’s son, Philip, who extended the Braose holdings by adding the Welsh lordships of Builth and Radnor and acquiring claims to the baronies of Totnes and Barnstaple, in Devon, through his marriage to Aenor, daughter of Juhel of Totnes. Aenor was coheir of her father and through her William (III)’s father, William (II), acquired a half share in the lordship of Barnstaple. In 1158 William (II) had offered King Henry II a fine of 1,000 marks for twenty-eight knights’ fees, as his mother’s share of her inheritance. On his death in 1192 or 1193, £430 was still outstanding.2
William (II)’s own marriage to Bertha brought the lordships of Abergavenny and Brecon, in south Wales, into the family from Bertha’s share of the Hereford estates after the deaths of her two brothers, although her elder sister, Margaret, married to Humphrey II de Bohun, received the bulk of the Hereford inheritance. William (II) concentrated his attentions on his land in the Welsh Marches, serving as sheriff of Herefordshire for Henry II between 1173 and 1175. His daughter, Sybil, married firstly William de Ferrers, Earl of Derby, and secondly Adam de Port, Baron of Basing, Hampshire. William (II)’s son, William (III), married Matilda de Saint Valery, better known to history as Matilda (or Maud) de Braose.3
Matilda de Braose
Matilda de Braose was probably born in the early 1150s in Saint-Valeryen-Caux, France, to Bernard IV, Seigneur de Saint-Valery and Lord of Beckley in Oxfordshire, and his first wife, Matilda. Contemporary records describe Matilda as ‘tall and beautiful, wise and vigorous.’4 More famous for her role in the de Braose’s spectacular falling-out with King John and the manner of her death, very little is known of Matilda’s early years, although it is likely that she spent time at her family’s manor of Hinton Waldrist in Berkshire. Sometime around 1166 she was married to William (III) de Braose, fourth Lord of Bramber.
William (II) appears to have withdrawn from public life in the late 1170s, probably retiring to his estates. He is thought to have died around 1192 or 1193.5 He was succeeded in the administration of his estates and, eventually, in his barony, by Matilda’s husband, William (III) de Braose, who was highly favoured by both Richard I and, later his brother King John. William and Matilda continued to expand the Braose holdings acquiring estates until they had an annual income of over £800 through holding as fiefs or custodies a total of 325 knights’ fees, and sixteen castles in England, Wales and Ireland.6 William’s career in royal service began in the reign of Richard I; he was sheriff of Herefordshire from 1191 until he was replaced on the orders of King John in 1200. He was active against the Welsh throughout Richard’s reign, defending the volatile frontier. He also served on the Continent with King Richard in 1194 and again in 1199, being present at the siege of Châlus when the king was mortally wounded.
After their marriage William and Matilda settled at their main family seat of Abergavenny Castle. William had a particularly ruthless reputation among the Welsh and was known as the ‘Ogre of Abergavenny’ following an incident in 1175 when he murdered the Welsh prince Seisyllt ap Dyfnwal, in retaliation for the murder of his uncle Henry of Hereford, who had been killed at the Welsh prince’s home of Castel Arnallt. Seisyllt and two other Welsh princes, plus other members of the Welsh aristocracy, had been invited to a Christmas feast, supposedly in the spirit of reconciliation. However, having surrendered their weapons at the door the defenceless Welsh princes, their sons and retainers, were locked in the hall and massacred by William and his men. Seisyllt and his eldest son were among the slain. Determined upon the destruction of Seisyllt’s entire family, William then rode into the Welsh prince’s domains, where he murdered Seisyllt’s younger son and kidnapped his wife, who disappears from the historical record thereafter. The boy was just 7 years old.
Matilda was also known as the Lady of Hay, taken from the Castle of Hay, and had her own reputation in Welsh folklore. She appears to have taken on a supernatural persona among the Welsh; one legend arose of Matilda building the Castle of Hay in one night, single-handed, carrying the stones in her skirts.7 Whilst William was away campaigning in Normandy or in attendance on the king, Matilda would be left to manage their estates in Wales. In 1198, Matilda defended Painscastle in Elfael, just south of Radnor and Builth, against a massive Welsh attack by Gwenwynyn, Prince of Powys. She held out for three weeks until English reinforcements arrived, earning the castle its nickname of Matilda’s Castle. Geoffrey fitz Peter, the justiciar, came to her rescue, lifting the siege on 13 August. Ralph of Diceto described the encounter:
On the Welsh Marches, near what is called “Matilda’s Castle” the principal defence forces of the area gathered with hostile intent, equipped for battle. In the first grouping of the Welsh were only foot soldiers; in the second knights and infantry; in the third knights only. In the first grouping of the [king’s] army were placed foot soldiers, and knights in the second; but the whole strength of the army was in the third grouping. On the first engagement, the Welsh turned their backs and spoils were seized from them. Many were captured, and very many killed, amounting to as many as three thousand warriors, so it is said. Thus was the prophecy fulfilled, “The roaring cubs shall cause great slaughter among any who oppose them.”8
Gerald of Wales described Matilda in 1188, saying ‘She was, I say, a prudent and chaste woman, well equipped to rule her household skilled in preserving her property within doors as increasing it outdoors.’9
William and Matilda had around sixteen children together, who married into some of the most powerful families of the time. Their eldest son, William, married Maud de Clare, daughter of the earl of Hertford; he died alongside his mother in John’s dungeons in 1210. Their second son, Giles, became bishop of Hereford in 1200; he died in 1215. A third son, Reginald, became head of the family on Giles’ death in 1215 and married, as his second wife, Gwladus Ddu, daughter of Llewelyn the Great, Prince of Gwynedd in north Wales, and his wife, Joan, illegitimate daughter of King John.
Reginald’s son William, by his first wife married Eva Marshal, daughter of the great knight, William Marshal. It was this William de Braose who was ignominiously hanged by Llewelyn the Great, after being found in Llewelyn’s bedchamber with the Welsh prince’s wife Joan, the Lady of Wales and natural daughter of King John. William had been at the Welsh court to arrange the marriage of his daughter, Isabel, to Llewelyn and Joan’s son, Dafydd. Interestingly, after some diplomatic manoeuvring by Llywelyn, the marriage still went ahead, although it was to be childless.
A fourth son of William and Matilda, John, married Mabel de Limesy, coheir to the barony of Cavendish in Suffolk; his father, William de Braose, had offered the king £1,000 for this marriage in 1203. Of their daughters Loretta, married Robert de Breteuil, fourth Earl of Leicester and another, Margaret, married Walter de Lacy, Lord of Meath. A third daughter, Annora, married Hugh (III) de Mortimer, Baron of Wigmore in Herefordshire. Another daughter, Matilda, married Gruffudd ap Rhys, the son of Lord Rhys of Deheubarth.
William’s star continued to rise on the accession of King John in 1199. He helped to win support for John over Arthur as his rival claimant and he was an almost-constant companion of the new king in the early years, regularly witnessing John’s charters. He was one of the king’s staunchest allies as John consolidated his position in England and fought for his possessions on the Continent. William also managed to attend to his duties in Wales and on the Welsh March. He also watched over the marcher barony of his son-in-law, Walter de Lacy, while Walter was occupied with his honour of Meath in Ireland; the reciprocal arrangement saw Walter looking out for the Braose interests in Ireland, as well as his own. William and Matilda de Braose continued to thrive under King John, who sought to use William as a counterbalance to the power of William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, especially on the Welsh March where both enjoyed significant influence. William and Matilda’s family also benefited from John’s largesse, with their son, Giles, being promoted to bishop of Hereford in 1200. In the same year, John granted William all the lands he could conquer in Wales to increase his barony at Radnor.
William was also granted several wardships, including that of the heir to the barony of Salwarpe, Shropshire, the Welsh lordships of Glamorgan and Gower in 1202 and the barony of Great Torrington, in Devon, in 1203.10 In the following year, William was granted the estates of Alan Trenchemer in Surrey, after paying John £100 to have the case heard before the king, and sending the king a gift of 300 cows, thirty bulls and ten horses so the case could be heard swiftly. A further 700 marks would be paid ‘if it indeed should be won.’11 William was pardoned all outstanding debts to the crown in September 1202, including those his father had owed to Henry II and the ones he himself had owed to Richard I. In 1203 he was forgiven a £50 debt to Jewish moneylenders and in 1204 the £825 fine for his son’s marriage to a coheir of the barony of Limesy. All these grants were a clear indication of the high favour, in which William was held by the king, in the early years of John’s reign.
At the same time, William was expanding his landholdings in Ireland, thus accumulating more debt. William’s grandfather had been granted the honour of Limerick by King Henry II, but never taken possession. John regranted Limerick to William de Braose in 1201, with sixty knights’ fees, in exchange for 5,000 marks to be paid in annual instalments of 500 marks. In 1210 he still owed £2865 for Limerick and £350 for three Welsh castles.12 It was this arrangement, a substantial debt on William’s part, that would later be used by John to pursue judgement against William and his family. Traditionally, the king was less than rigorous in his pursuit of debts to the crown; such debts were seen as a necessary price of baronial ambition. However, following the loss of his Continental possessions, John broke with tradition, seeing the repayment of such debts as a new source of income. In 1207 John declared the lands of the Earl of Leicester forfeit, for non-payment of his debts. He would turn his sights on William in the following year.
William de Braose’s troubles started long before he was aware of them, in the castle at Rouen at Easter 1203. On 1 August 1202 William had been the one to capture Arthur of Brittany at the siege of Mirebeau. As briefly discussed in Chapter One the great William Marshal and Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury and Justiciar of England, were instrumental in persuading the English barons to accept John as King, reasoning that John knew more of England – and was more experienced – than young Arthur. According to L’Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchale, Marshal counselled against giving the crown to Arthur. Arthur was 12 years old at the time, and under the influence of King Philip of France, two factors that were not in the young duke’s favour. Marshal successfully pressed for the succession of John, Richard’s brother, a grown man, who it was believed was more aligned with the interests of the Anglo-Norman baronage than the young Breton duke. Arthur’s claim was revived in the early 1200s when the King of France, Philip II Augustus, confiscated John’s possessions in Northern France for failing to acknowledge the French King as his overlord. Philip recognised Arthur as the rightful heir to Normandy and Anjou.
Arthur was knighted by the French king, betrothed to his infant daughter and sent south with 200 knights to join up with the Lusignans in Poitou. He intercepted his grandmother at Mirebeau, where capturing her would have been a significant coup, Eleanor of Aquitaine being a considerable bargaining chip. The dowager queen of England was forced to seek safety in the castle but managed to get a message out to King John at Le Mans. After a forced march of 100 miles in less than forty-eight hours, John and a detachment of his army had fallen on Arthur’s troops in the town streets of Mirebeau and achieved a complete victory over his mother’s attackers. William de Braose captured Arthur and handed him over to John, who sent him into imprisonment, first at Falaise and then at Rouen. Demanding Arthur’s release, ‘King Philip of France, with the Bretons, instantly ordered King John of England to release Arthur to them. They took many hostages for him and added fierce threats to these commands. When John refused, Philip again attacked the castles of Normandy.’13
Arthur’s captivity was probably less than comfortable, despite his rank and familial relationship. According to William Marshal, John ‘kept his prisoners in such a horrible manner and such abject confinement that it seemed an indignity and disgrace to all those with him who witnessed his cruelty.’14 While he was being held at Falaise, John had sent orders for Arthur’s castration and blinding while he was in the custody of Hubert de Burgh, but Hubert had refused to carry out the punishment, believing that ‘the king would immediately repent of such an order and that ever afterwards would hate anyone who presumed to obey such a cruel mandate.’15 Hubert de Burgh was partly right and Arthur’s survival at that time helped to pacify the rebellious Bretons. However, in 1203 Arthur was moved to the castle at Rouen. King Philip and the nobility of Brittany continued to press for the release of the young duke, but John had other ideas:
The King of the French took the castle of Chinon, and afterwards all the garrisons of Normandy, Anjou, and the city of Poitiers, with other castles, fortified towns and cities, as he so willed it – for this reason; when king John had captured Arthur, he had him kept alive in prison for some time, but finally, in the great tower at Rouen, on the Thursday before Easter, after his dinner and when drunk and possessed by the devil, he killed him by his own hand, and, after a large stone had been tied to the body, threw it in the Seine. It was discovered by a fisherman in his net and recognised when it was brought to the riverbank, and, for fear of the tyrant, secretly buried at the priory of Bec, which is called Notre Dame des Pres.
When the aforesaid king of the French heard the news of this and knew for certain that Arthur had been killed, he had his killer John summoned to the court of France, as was customary with dukes of Normandy, to answer for the murder of such a great man and to defend himself if he could; of such a great man, say I, for he was the legitimate heir of England, the count of Brittany, and the son-in-law of the king of France. John, fully aware of his evil deed, never dared to appear before the court, but fled to England and exercised a most cruel tyranny over his people until he died. When he never came to answer for the death of Arthur or to defend himself, judgement was given against him by the king’s court, and he was deprived of all his titles, in all the lands and honours which he held of the French crown; this was an incontrovertible and just sentence.’16
The murder was conducted in secret and Arthur’s fate was never publicly acknowledged; only a trusted few knew exactly what had happened, including William de Braose. John’s complicity in the act, however, seems to be beyond doubt. Arthur had been a hostage to the good behaviour of his Breton subjects. In the short term, his death led to a renewed offensive by King Philip and the loss of most of John’s Continental possessions. In the long term it exacerbated the growing mistrust of John among his barons. How could they hand over hostages for their good behaviour if John could not be trusted to keep them safe and alive? It is said that it was Matilda’s voicing of these concerns, that caused the spectacular downfall of the Braose family.
It was following Arthur’s murder that things started to go wrong for the Lord and Lady of Bramber. John became increasingly suspicious of de Braose’s loyalty and turned against him. This could have been for several reasons, not least being de Braose’s knowledge of Arthur’s fate. Elsewhere, de Braose had fallen behind in his payments to the Exchequer for the honour of Limerick, but he had also sided with his friend William Marshal in his disagreements with the king. In addition, de Braose’s son, Giles had been one of the bishops to approve an Interdict against John.
Whatever the reason, King John moved to make a public example of one of his most powerful barons and punish him for his debts to the Exchequer. In December 1207 John granted William’s honour of Limerick to Walter de Lacy, hoping to sew dissension between William de Braose and his son-in-law. The following year, the king’s persecution of the family continued apace. John appointed one of his mercenary captains, Gerard d’Athée, as sheriff of Herefordshire, in order to threaten William’s lordship of Brecon and Giles’ own position as bishop of Hereford. William’s eldest son, also William, was amerced 300 marks for forest offences. John then demanded William and Matilda give up their sons as hostages. Matilda refused and Roger of Wendover recorded her response to the soldiers sent to collect the boys, as; ‘I will not deliver my sons to your lord, King John, for he foully murdered his nephew Arthur, whom he should have cared for honourably.’17 Knowing that his wife had gone too far, William promised the messengers he would make amends and was heard to rebuke his wife, saying, ‘You have spoken like a foolish woman against our lord the king.’18 The messengers, however, returned to John and related the whole story. The furious king sent more knights, this time to seize William and his entire family.
In an attempt to appease the king, the couple sent John expensive gifts. Matilda is said to have sent a herd of cows to Queen Isabelle, including a fine white bull. William surrendered his castles of Hay, Brecon and Radnor, mortgaged his English lands and handed over hostages. In a public letter of 1210 justifying his actions against the family, John claimed that they were due to the repeated non-payment of the debt owed for Limerick, William had fallen behind on payments and ignored every deadline. As a consequence, John had ordered the sheriff of Gloucester to attack and seize the Braose lands in south Wales. John wrote that when William did hand over his castles and surrender hostages, they were guarantees that he would keep up with his payments in the future.19
The king took possession of de Braose’s castles and moved to arrest William. Forewarned, the couple fled to Ireland with two of their sons, where they took refuge with Walter de Lacy, their son-in-law and lord of Meath. John was not to be thwarted and launched an invasion of Ireland to capture the fugitives, bringing other recalcitrant barons to heal along the way. While William de Braose tried to come to terms with the king, Matilda and their eldest son, William, escaped by taking ship for Scotland. Nevertheless, Matilda, her daughter Annora and William, along with his wife and children, were captured in Galloway by Duncan of Carrick, who was richly rewarded by his distant cousin, the English king.
John sent two ships, with crossbowmen and sergeants as an escort to bring his prisoners to him at Carrickfergus. When he returned to England, John took Matilda and her family with him, initially imprisoning them in Bristol Castle. King John made an agreement with both William and Matilda that entailed freedom for her and a pardon for William in return for 50,000 marks, a king’s ransom, with Matilda remaining imprisoned until the sum had been paid in full. William was allowed to leave court to raise the money, leaving Matilda as hostage. However, he managed to evade his escort and escaped to France, disguised as a beggar, where he joined his son, Giles, who had fled to exile there in 1208. It may be that, despite knowing what had befallen Arthur, William never expected John to impose the same punishment on a woman and hoped that Matilda would be safe in the king’s custody.
Informed of her husband’s escape Matilda remained defiant, refusing to pay the fine, saying she had only 24 marks of silver, 24 gold coins and 15 ounces of gold left to her.20 Of Matilda’s response, in his 1210 public letter of justification for his actions against the family, John wrote ‘So neither then nor afterwards did she, her husband, or anyone else on their behalf, pay me anything of the debt.’21 Being either unwilling or unable to pay, Matilda and her son were moved from Bristol to imprisonment at either Windsor or Corfe Castle. William (III) de Braose was outlawed in every shire ‘according to the laws and customs of England.’22 He remained in France and died at Corbeil on 4 September 1211 and was buried in the abbey of St Victoire in Paris. Stephen Langton, the exiled archbishop of Canterbury, is said to have assisted in the funeral rites.
Matilda’s fate was more gruesome. She and her son were left to starve to death in John’s dungeons, whether deliberately or out of neglect by their jailers, it is impossible to say (and whether this was at Corfe or Windsor is unclear). Tradition has it, that when their bodies were found, William’s cheeks bore his mother’s bite marks, where she had tried to stay alive following his death. Anonymous of Bethune described the scene:
On the eleventh day the mother was found dead between her son’s legs, still upright but leaning back against her son’s chest as a dead woman. The son, who was also dead, sat upright, leaning against the wall as a dead man. So desperate was the mother that she had eaten her son’s cheeks. When William de Braose, who was in Paris, heard this news, he died soon afterwards, many asserting that it was through grief.23
John’s treatment of the de Braose family did not lead to the submission of his barons as he had hoped and the remainder of his reign was marred by civil war. However, it has gone down in history in that when Magna Carta was written in 1215, Clause 39 may well have been included with Matilda and her family in mind: ‘No man shall be taken, imprisoned, outlawed, banished or in any way destroyed, nor will we proceed against or prosecute him, except by the lawful judgement of his peers or by the law of the land.’24
Matilda’s daughter, Annora, who had been taken prisoner at the same time as her mother and brother, was held at Windsor, in the custody of John’s constable, Engelard de Cigogné, but on 27 October 1214, she was given into the keeping of the papal legate, Nicholas of Tusculum. She was, however, still kept apart from her family and her husband.25
In his final days John may have felt some remorse at his relentless pursuit of the destruction of Matilda and her family, as shortly after the onset of his final, fatal illness, on 10 October 1216, the king gave permission to Matilda’s daughter, Margaret, to found a religious house in Herefordshire in memory of her father, mother and brother William.26 John died at Newark on the night of 18/19 October 1216.
Loretta de Braose
A less well-known story of the Braose family is that Matilda may not have been the only Braose to influence the composition of Magna Carta. The experiences of Matilda’s daughter, Loretta de Braose, may well have inspired clauses 7 and 8 (see Appendix A), relating to widows’ rights. Probably born in the early-to-mid-1180s, Loretta was one of the sixteen children of Matilda and William de Braose. Four of her sisters married prominent Welsh Marcher lords, but Loretta was married to Robert de Breteuil, fourth earl of Leicester, in 1196. Robert was the second son of Robert de Breteuil, third earl of Leicester, and his wife, Petronilla de Grandmesnil. Born, probably, in the early-1160s Robert was closely associated with his elder brother William, as they grew up and entered public life they were linked with the household of their cousin, Robert, Count of Meulan, and they regularly appeared on their father’s charters together.27 William died in 1189, sometime after the accession of King Richard I. A later legend suggests he suffered from leprosy. Robert therefore became heir to the earldom of Leicester when he departed on crusade with the king in 1190 and his adventures in the Holy Land would make a wonderful novel.
Robert’s father died on 31 August or 1 September 1190 and so Robert was invested as earl by the king on 2 February 1191, in Sicily. During his time in the Holy Land, Robert was one of the leaders of the assault on Acre on 11 July 1191 and fought in the battle of Arsuf on 7 September. In November he rescued some ambushed Templars at Ibn-Ibrak and then was himself surrounded with his knights by a party of Turks outside the camp at Ramlah. Robert was rescued by his cousin Robert de Neubourg; in the process he nearly drowned in a river and had two horses killed under him. He and his men were prominent among the forces who stormed Deir al-Bela on 22 May 1192 and on 5 August 1192 he was one of the ten knights who helped to thwart an attempt to kidnap the king from his tent at Jaffa and the king himself rescued Robert when he was thrown from his horse. He probably set out for home in September or October 1192, having distinguished himself and earned the king’s eternal goodwill.28
Following his return from the crusade, Robert was occupied with the defence of Normandy, but was captured by King Philip Augustus’ forces in June 1194, after a skirmish outside Gournay. He was imprisoned at Étampes for more than a year and only freed after surrendering his castle and lordship of Pacy-sur-Eure to King Philip. His freedom was achieved sometime around February 1196 and in the same year he was married to the teenage Loretta de Braose. The marriage was an alliance of two of the leading Anglo-Norman families of the Plantagenet world. He was a powerful earl who had made a name for himself on the crusades, whilst she was a daughter of one of the most powerful barons of the Welsh March. As her marriage portion, Loretta was given Tawstock, near Barnstaple in Devon.29
Robert de Breteuil was back campaigning in 1197 and 1198 and was with King Richard when he was mortally wounded at Châlus in April 1199. He had had a long association with Richard’s brother since John had been Count of Mortain, and so was a firm supporter of John’s accession, acting as steward at his coronation on 27 May 1199, claiming the office his grandfather had relinquished in 1153. Robert was highly influential in the early years of John’s reign. He also fought for John in Normandy, being one of the major landholders in the duchy, and was rewarded generously for his support; he was granted Richmondshire in Yorkshire in September 1203. The following year he suffered the loss of his Continental estates when Normandy fell and was the biggest loser of the Anglo-Norman barons.
Although he was one of the two barons (the other being William Marshal) who was given a year to decide whether to pay homage to King Philip of France to try to retain his Norman estates, Robert was not punished by John. Indeed, he was given more lands in England, English lands that had belonged to families who had chosen to remain in Normandy, such as the Harcourts.30 Robert died before King Philip’s deadline, and so never did have to decide where and how to share his allegiances in order to keep all his lands. He died on 20 or 21 October 1204; the life of St Hugh of Lincoln reported that he died a leper, although this seems highly unlikely.31 He was buried in the choir of the Augustinian Abbey in Leicester. His lands were divided between his two sisters. The earldom and the town of Leicester went to his eldest sister, Amice, the wife of Simon de Montfort and therefore grandmother of the Simon de Montfort who would marry King John’s daughter, Eleanor. Half of the old earldom, centred around Brackley in Northamptonshire, went to Robert’s younger sister, Margaret, wife of Saher de Quincy, Earl of Winchester.
Loretta de Braose, was probably only in her mid-twenties when her husband died. She and Robert had no children, so she had no claims on her husband’s estate other than her dower. She received dower lands in Hampshire, Berkshire and Dorset, amounting to £140 per annum in 1205.32 The downfall of her family, however, was to have a greater impact on Loretta than the death of her husband. King John turned against the Braose family in 1207, calling for the repayment of fines and for hostages to guarantee their debts. There was no going back following Matilda’s unguarded words, spoken probably in fear, to John’s messengers, refusing to give up her sons as hostages.34 As we have seen, John’s relentless persecution of the family saw Loretta’s father, William, flee to exile in France, dying there in 1211, and her mother, Matilda, and oldest brother, another William, dying in John’s dungeons in 1210, starved to death either deliberately or by neglect. Given the lengths John had gone to in order to destroy the family, deliberate starvation is a strong possibility. John’s ire extended to the whole family and in November 1207, Loretta was obliged to promise not to marry again without the king’s consent. She went into exile in France shortly afterwards, her lands taken into the king’s custody.
By winter 1214, Loretta was back in England. A charter was issued on 8 December, witnessed by, among others, Peter des Roches and Loretta’s brother, Giles, Bishop of Hereford, whereby Loretta abandoned all claims to seizures from her estates by the king or anyone appointed to their keeping. This quitclaim was accompanied by testimony that she was unmarried, and that she would not marry again without the king’s permission. In return for these promises an order was made for the restitution of her dower lands in Devon, Dorset, Hampshire and Berkshire. She was also promised compensation would be paid for any stock or property taken from her lands while they were in the hands of Henry fitz Count.33 On the one hand, John’s willingness to restore Loretta was a sign that he wanted to make peace with the Braose family, who were still a powerful force on the Welsh March, especially with Giles de Braose as bishop of Hereford. On the other hand, this new arrangement risked the alienation of both Henry fitz Count, who had benefited from the fall of the Braose family, and Saher de Quincy, who would lose out on the Leicester lands that made up Loretta’s dower.
Opposition to the king was reaching its climax in the winter of 1214. The major crisis of 1215 and the issuing of Magna Carta was just around the corner. The treatment of Loretta’s dower and marriage in December 1214 is addressed in two clauses of Magna Carta. Clause 7 dictates:
After her husband’s death, a widow shall have her marriage portion and her inheritance at once and without any hindrance; nor shall she pay anything for her dower, her marriage portion, or her inheritance which she and her husband held on the day of her husband’s death; and she may stay in her husband’s house for 40 days after his death, within which period her dower shall be assigned to her.34
The treatment Loretta received, whereby she was forced to relinquish all claims to seizures made from her dower, went completely against this provision in Magna Carta. Moreover, the promise made by Loretta that she would not remarry without the king’s wish and consent, flaunted Clause 8 of Magna Carta, which stipulates: ‘No widow shall be compelled to marry so long as she wishes to live without a husband, provided that she gives security that she will not marry without our consent if she holds of us, or without the consent of the lord of whom she holds, if she holds of another.’35 This clause effectively allowed widows to choose where and when – and, indeed, if – to remarry, rather than making that choice dependent on the king’s will, as Loretta had been forced to do.
Whether Loretta’s experiences informed Magna Carta or were among a number of such injustices that had occurred over recent years, the inclusion of these clauses sought to protect other widows from the pressure Loretta had been faced with in biding by the king’s will and not claiming against the crown for the losses from her dower. Once Loretta had recovered her lands, she gave some of her manor at Tawstock to the sisters of the Order of St John at Buckland Sororum, Somerset. By 1220, possibly with the encouragement of Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, she appears to have decided on the life of a religious recluse or anchorite. In June 1219 she had granted her dower lands to the bishop of Winchester and Philip D’Aubigny for three years, in preparation for her new life; the rent from these grants would finance her life as an anchorite. In 1221 she took a vow of chastity and became a recluse at Hackington, near Canterbury.36 The life of an anchorite was a strange, solitary existence in which the person was physically cut off from the world, while still being a part of it. It was a life that could be followed by a man or woman, but was one which could not be lightly taken on by the anchorite themselves, or by the church at large. Not all were suited to the life and a person wanting to profess themselves as an anchorite had to go through a rigorous process to assess that suitability. This even included an interview with the diocese’s bishop or archbishop, in this case possibly Stephen Langton himself.
Of particular concern was the anchorite’s mental capacity to deal with the solitude and limitation on human contact. Once the church had endorsed a person’s suitability to become an anchorite, there was a specific ceremony to signify the end of the life they had previously known. An anchorite was, effectively, dead to the world. They would live in a small cell, attached to the church. As they were led to this cell, a requiem Mass would be sung for them and they would receive extreme unction, normally reserved for the dying. They would be sprinkled with dust, to signify their burial, and then the door to the cell bolted from the outside. In some cases, the cell was walled up. The only access to the outside world was a small, curtained window.37
Once they had taken their vows, anchorites were forbidden to leave their cell, on pain of excommunication from the church. As an anchoress, Loretta had to adhere to vows of poverty and chastity and to remain in her cell for the rest of her life. She was not allowed to teach young girls or possess valuables. Conversations with men in private were strictly forbidden and communication with the outside world was done from behind a black curtain, through which she could also hear the daily church offices, even if she could not interact with them. She is known to have had a manservant and may well have had two female attendants to see to her daily needs, such as food, laundry, and clearing away waste.38 However, her daily interactions with her servants would have been restricted to dealing with her physical needs, rather than friendship and companionship. She would also have been allowed to keep a cat, to control the mice and rats.
Anchorites were expected to devote their lives to prayers and contemplation, to be a benefit to their community and to work for it by praying for their souls. They were an integral part of the church, and the parish in which they lived: ‘True anchoresses are indeed birds of heaven which fly up high and sit singing merrily on the green boughs – that is, direct their thoughts upwards at the bliss of heaven.’39 Once Loretta entered her cell, her time was her own. She could manage her own daily routine, although she probably followed the canonical hours and prayed seven times daily.
Taking up the life of a recluse or anchoress was not uncommon for aristocratic women; it allowed them to take some control of their lives and futures. Following Loretta’s example, her own sister, Annora, would become a recluse at Iffley in 1232.40 For Loretta, withdrawing from public life in such a way did not preclude her being able to use her social standing to help the poor and those in need. For instance, she is known to have helped to establish the Franciscan order in England and was described as ‘cherishing the friars as a mother does her children.’41
Loretta’s influence was widely acknowledged, a thirteenth century French manuscript claimed she held a particular devotion to the Virgin Mary. On 29 April 1265, at the height of the Second Barons’ War, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester and leader of the rebel barons, called on Loretta to resolve a constitutional issue concerning the ‘rights and liberties’ of the stewardship of England, the office then held by Simon but formerly held by Loretta’s husband, Robert.42 Her response, if there was one, is unknown.
Loretta de Braose, dowager countess of Leicester, died on 4 March, probably in 1266, though it may have been the year after. She was buried in the church of St Stephen, Hackington. Loretta appears to have outlived all her siblings. Despite the fact we do not know exactly when Annora died, it seems likely to have been in 1241, or shortly after, the last year in which she received annual gifts of firewood from the king (although this could also have been due to her great-nephew attaining his majority and taking over the responsibility for her care).43 Another sister, Flandrina, was abbess at Godstow Abbey from 1242, but was deposed in 1248 and disappears thereafter.44
John’s relentless pursuit of Matilda and William de Braose saw the destruction of the couple and their eldest son, and the persecution of their surviving children. John’s own apparent desire to make amends is shown in his dealings with Loretta, restoring her dower lands, and in his grant of 10 October 1216, when he was already gravely ill, to Margaret de Braose, wife of Walter de Lacy, to found a religious house in Herefordshire in memory of her parents and older brother. John knew he had gone too far. Given the extent of the family’s suffering at the hands of King John, it seems only fair that the dramatic experiences of the Braose women are enshrined in no less than three clauses of Magna Carta, 7, 8 and 39.