Chester-le-Street’s Missing Gold (NZ277514)

In 1042, Durham needed a new bishop. By whatever means (thanks, supposedly, to the influence of the mighty Earl Godwin), a monk from Peterborough by the name of Egelric landed the job. So up he came to the North-East and began what he must have considered something of a plum job.

Durham had by that time been the home of the mortal remains of St Cuthbert for around half a century. The saint’s previous ‘home’ had been Chester-le-Street, where he had lain during 883-995AD. Since his removal, the little town had lost a good deal of it’s glamour, but Egelric decided to give it a bit of a facelift with the construction of a brand new stone church to replace the battered old wooden affair that had housed Cuthbert’s bits and pieces.

Now this is all supposed to have happened towards the end of the bishop’s reign, around 1054-56. The story goes that during excavational work for the new edifice a hoard of gold was found, the workmen having stumbled upon the treasury of the old Roman garrison. Reports vary slightly as to what exactly happened next, but it would appear that Bishop Egelric exercised what you might call his ‘executive right’ and appropriated the gold for himself and did a runner back to Peterborough.

More kindly reports have him ‘retiring’ the bishopric of Durham in 1056 and assuming some prominent post at Peterborough, where, suitably endowed with a mysterious fortune, he set about rebuilding many of the roads and pathways of the Fens. The new church at Chester-le-Street was built, however, though presumably the money had already been put aside for this task.

According to Arthur Mee’s Durham (1953), the dubious cleric ended up being thrown in the Tower of London for his misdeeds several years later by William the Conqueror.

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Bad Start for the Lumleys (c.NZ300493)

The Lumley name looms large in the history of County Durham, and the rise of the family in the region begins with an Anglo-Saxon noble by the name of Ligulf (or Liulph) in the aftermath of the Norman Conquest. Fleeing the encroaching Normans in the south, he settled ‘up north’ and made a new home for himself among the followers of St.Cuthbert.

He married into the Northumbrian Royal family (to whom he was distantly related) and settled down at what became known as the ‘East Hall’, near the present-day village of Great Lumley. It is long since ruined and (I think) gone, but it was the scene of one of the seminal moments in North-East history.

After the Normans had so savagely ravaged, or ‘harried’, the north during 1069-70, King William I entrusted the bishopric of Durham to one William Walcher. A decent enough man by all accounts, he wasn’t the best of delegators, entrusting much of the administration of his lands to Gilbert and Leofwin, who did their very best to enrage the locals.

Our man Ligulf actually got on quite well with Walcher, but had a bit of a disagreement with him and his deputies on account of some rough treatment he had endured. Much affronted by the accusations, Gilbert and Leofwin conspired to seek revenge on the Saxon upstart. The former is thought to have paid Ligulf a not-so-friendly visit at his East Hall home and murdered the poor chap – probably sometime in the late 1070s

This did nothing to improve relations with the locals. The Normans and their supporters were hugely unpopular in the region, and the murder of Ligulf – a very well-liked guy – was the last straw. So although he wasn’t personally to blame for the crime, Walcher’s failure to punish the miscreants led directly to his own demise. As any student of North-East history will know, the bishop and his entourage (including his two hated henchmen) were soon afterwards jumped upon and slaughtered during a visit to Gateshead.

Walcher’s murder in 1080 brought a further ‘harrying’ for the north by King William’s men. Much of the local nobility were slain or scattered for good – but, as we know, the Lumley family managed to survive.

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Elsdon & its Pele, Redesdale (NY936933)

Guest Post by Tom Moss

Elsdon in Redesdale, Northumberland, has a timeless air with many reminders of a bygone age. For all its turbulent history, it is a delight to the eye: picturesque with a rolling village green and a delightful array of stone houses. Here are to be found the Mote Hills which once housed the Motte and Bailey castle of the Umfravilles, Lords of Redesdale. They came with the Conqueror, William of Normandy, and were granted the lands of Redesdale to hold it against his enemies and wolves. The long-gone castle was built in the year 1080 and served as the headquarters of the Umfravilles until about 1157.

Elsdon Pele is a magnificent example of the fortified towers built on each side of the English-Scottish Border as both defence and sanctuary against the Border Reivers. It was built about the year 1400 for the Umfravilles but by 1415 it was in the hands of the Rector. His original home had suffered at the hands of Scottish Raiders. Not long before, in 1399, a Truce between the Scots and English had ended and the North of England was very soon afterwards plundered by the Scots. Elsdon was often a target. There is documentary evidence that the tower was standing in 1415 and that it belonged to the Rector – 'Turris de Ellysden' belongs to 'Rector eiusdem'.

It still preserves its character today even after many additions and renovations. The walls are massive and the original vaulted ground floor was once the pen of horses and cattle during Scottish raids or a place of refuge from feuding neighbours. The pele tower is a truly wondrous sight and dominates the village.

Although the tower of Elsdon was strong and fortified and offered shelter for the villagers in the endless raids from the Scots, there were many times when the people suffered at the hands of the infamous Border Reivers. An attack of particular note took place in September 1584 when Martin Elliot and five hundred men from Liddesdale attacked the village. Such great numbers indicate that the Scots came in reprisal for earlier raids against themselves. As the Scottish Border Reivers turned for home they left fourteen men dead, had burned down all the houses and made away with four hundred kye (cows), oxen and horses, insight (household goods), and taken four hundred prisoners.

From the records that still exist from the time it is clear that the raiding and reiving had reached an intensity that had existed for at least a hundred years before the Liddesdale raid. In 1498, the Bishop of Durham had threatened excommunication on the reivers of Tynedale and Redesdale (which included Elsdon) – not for attacks on the Scots, which was presumably acceptable, but for the family feuds which had reached such an intensity that God-fearing folk lived in daily terror of a raid from their own countrymen. The reiving was literally relentless – and the remedy hard to come by!

Today a visit to Elsdon is a great pleasure. It is a peaceful place nestling in rolling hillsides – yet proud of its history and its turbulent past. The church, pele tower, village green and the Mote Hills are all much as they were five hundred years ago – but back then every man looked over his shoulder, wary of the next attack to come screaming out of the hills.

By Tom Moss


Visit Tom's websites at:
http://www.reivershistory.co.uk/
and 
http://wwwborderreiverstories-neblessclem.blogspot.co.uk/ 

Hylton Castle (NZ358588)

  

[thanks to Craigy144 at en.wikipedia]

 

This curiously-situated relic of the past has withstood the ravages of time, the elements and local redevelopment since its original construction around 1400 by one Sir William Hylton, whose family had estates spread across the northern counties. It is not known if there were any previous buildings on the site, though there is some speculation that a wooden structure may have stood thereabouts as early as the late eleventh century when William I granted the land to the family.

Today only the impressive gatehouse tower remains, though other buildings at one time existed to the east, probably arranged around a courtyard. The now ruinous west-facing frontage of the former castle was four stories high (but is now, more-or-less, three), though it still has its four turrets. Carved figures once stood on the battlements, and distinctive heraldic carvings can be made out across the still impressive façade, featuring the arms of the king, the Hyltons and related families. Interestingly, on the eastern face can be seen the ‘stars and stripes’ of the Washington family.

The ruin bears the marks of numerous additions and alterations, including nineteenth century Gothic windows, and scars which give away the former presence of wings added and destroyed over the centuries. Internally, the Great Hall would have been on the first-floor, with private chambers, for the most part, taking up the higher levels. What remains of St.Catherine’s Chapel, founded in the mid-twelfth century, lies nearby.

The Hylton family retained their rank and status until the mid-sixteenth century and the Civil War; but afterwards remained wealthy enough to both retain and develop the castle until the last of their line died in 1746. It passed through several hands in the ensuing two centuries, during which time many of the more obvious alterations evident today were carried out – though much had to be demolished during the twentieth century due to general decay and vandalism. The state took the structure over in 1950, and it is now looked after by English Heritage. The surrounding parkland is neatly maintained by the local community.

The castle was said to be haunted by the Cauld Lad of Hylton until he was appeased with the gift of a cloak and hood.
 
 

The Boldon Book (c.NZ360614)

 
As many people know, the famous Domesday Book of 1086 does not cover English lands north of the River Tees. For whatever reason – be it that the area had been ‘wasted’ by the Normans in previous years, or, more likely, that the region was considered ungovernable – the surveyors studiously avoided the present-day counties of Northumberland and Durham when the most famous manuscript in English history was compiled 900+ years ago.

King William I was happy to let the infamous Prince Bishops of Durham get on with it up here, it seems. And they were pretty powerful men in their day. Perhaps the most famous of them, Hugh de Pudsey, considered himself so important, in fact, that he commissioned a ‘Domesday Book’ of his own in 1183 – a work that came to be known as ‘The Boldon Book’.

Though it differs in both its function and scope from Domesday, it still provides an important snapshot of the region in the late twelfth century. Basically, it presents an assessment of the land’s worth, its annual returns and its customary tenures – and paints a picture of a settled system of Anglo-Saxon feudalism going back generations. Unlike its big brother, it presents a more colourful image of everyday life, with several amusing and seemingly mundane observations.

The Boldon Book does not cover all of Northumberland and Durham, but includes almost all of the latter, and large tracts of land of the former which were then the property of the Bishop of Durham (some areas on the southern bank of the Tweed and the area around Bedlington). The name ‘Boldon’ comes from the text’s tendency to refer back to the Boldon entry (one of the first in the manuscript) when a settlement’s tenurial set-up was similar to the aforementioned village (viz. ‘as of Boldon’). The book lists each settlement in turn, giving an account of tenants’ obligations – both individually and collectively.

The original text has long since been lost, but four copies survive – including one in Durham’s Chapter Library. Transcriptions and interpretations have appeared in the Surtees Society publications (vol.25), the Victorian County History, and one or two other places; but the most accessible by far is that published by Phillimore & Co. Ltd in 1982 – which can still be found in libraries and, occasionally, in second-hand bookshops or online.