A Summer of Discontent (62 page)

‘He knew!’ exclaimed Bartholomew, regarding the proud prelate in horror. ‘He
knew
Ralph killed Glovere! He was even paying Ralph to ensure that Henry kept silent.’

‘You are right,’ whispered Michael, staring at the elegant figure of the Bishop astride his black horse as he rode away from
Ely. ‘De Lisle was guilty all along!’

T
HERE WAS A POWERFUL BENEDICTINE CATHEDRAL-PRIORY
at Ely in 1354, despite the fact that at the time Ely was an isolated settlement in an area that was more water than solid
land. The Romans had partly drained the Fens – some of their canals and dykes still survive – but it was not until the seventeenth
century that this area came to resemble the landscape we know today, with its vast flat fields and the occasional farmstead
or cluster of houses.

The monastery at Ely was founded by St Etheldreda in 673. Etheldreda was the daughter of a king called Anna, and she had been
married twice in political unions, despite her objections that she wanted to live a life of contemplation and chastity. It
was while fleeing from her second husband that she arrived in the mysterious marshes and islets that formed the Fens, and
she selected the virtually inaccessible Isle of Ely as a suitably remote place for her abbey. She died six years later, and
her bones were eventually translated into a shrine that formed the heart of the later cathedral. Many miracles were associated
with her tomb, and it was an important site for pilgrims by the fourteenth century.

In the 1350s, the great cathedral at Ely was essentially as it appears today. Most of the building had been completed by Norman
priors and bishops, although a collapse of the central tower in 1322 seriously damaged the chancel and necessitated further
work. The cathedral-priory was fortunate that at this time its sacristan was the talented Alan of Walsingham. Little is known
about Alan’s early life, although it is recorded that he was a junior monk skilled in working with gold in 1314. In 1321 he
was elected sacristan, and
therefore was responsible for the fabric of the cathedral.

The story goes that the day after the 1322 collapse Alan gazed on the rubble in the chancel in despair, but then realised
that here was a challenge worthy of his talents. The result was the octagon and its lantern tower, one of the most unusual
and innovative designs in medieval ecclesiastical architecture. Instead of the usual four piers that carried the immense weight
of a stone tower, Alan distributed the load by using eight piers, each extending back for the extent of one bay. This simple,
but brilliant, design resulted in a structure that was extremely stable, and was later copied by other medieval architects.
At the same time, Alan produced the exquisite Lady Chapel, with its beautiful tracery and niches for statues of saints, and
rebuilt the damaged choir. He also oversaw the building of Prior Crauden’s Chapel, which was raised in 1324. All still stand,
a further testament to Alan’s ability to design buildings that would last.

Originally, there were two parishes in Ely: Holy Cross and St Mary’s. St Mary’s had the splendid church that stands on the
green, but the parishioners of Holy Cross did not have their own building until a lean-to was erected against the north wall
of the cathedral. This was started in the early 1340s and was consecrated in the 1360s, although it was not completed until
around 1460. Before that, parish services were conducted in the nave of the cathedral, although this suited no one, and letters
of complaint were written to the Archbishop.

By 1373 the name Holy Cross had been changed to Holy Trinity, although no one seems quite sure why the dedication was altered.
When this church was demolished in 1566, the parishioners used Alan de Walsingham’s lovely Lady Chapel for their parish church,
a tradition that continued until 1938, after which the parishes of Holy Trinity and St Mary’s were amalgamated. Visitors to
the lovely medieval church of St Mary, which still stands next to the mighty cathedral, will notice that the chapel to the
south is named Holy Trinity Chapel. This was dedicated in 1941, and the
intention was to provide a link with the lost parish.

The Benedictine monastery was also well established by the 1350s, although it lost its abbey status in the early 1100s, when
the abbot was replaced by a bishop. Its proper title was Cathedral-Priory, with a prior in charge. The Ely Porta, through
which visitors pass if they enter the cathedral through the back door, was not built until the 1390s, and so was not standing
when Bartholomew and Michael visited the city. The almonry, Steeple Gate, cloisters, Prior’s House, infirmary, Black and Outer
‘hostries’, chapter house and the beautiful Prior Crauden’s chapel were all there, though. Some of the infirmary still stands,
and forms part of the deanery buildings today. All these were surrounded by a sturdy wall that enclosed the vineyards to the
east, and were bounded by the castle ruins to the south.

The cathedral-priory, being a wealthy landowner, had at least two barns in which to store the tithes it was paid by its tenants.
One barn was near the junction of Back Hill, Walpole Lane (now Silver Street) and Galey Lane (now The Gallery), while the
Sextry Barn (built in 1251) stood near St Mary’s Church. The monks’ vineyard did not produce good wine; the Bishop’s vineyards,
to the east of the town, were said to be a good deal better. Ely was famous for its ale, however, and it produced at least
four types in various strengths and qualities. Bona cervisia, the best kind, was probably served to the monks and to their
guests in the refectory. Skegman was the worst, and was brewed to be distributed as alms for those so poor they could not
afford better. Mediocris cervisia was mild ale, while debilis cervisia was very mild ale that was issued to servants.

Thomas de Lisle was a controversial and complex figure. He was arrogant and overbearing, and ran up massive debts in equipping
his court in a way he thought suitable for a man of his position. He antagonised the King on several occasions, forcing other
churchmen to speak in his favour in an effort to prevent a rift occurring between Church and state. He could also be compassionate
and selfless. He gave
last rites unhesitatingly during the Black Death, and was known for excellent sermons. As with many powerful people of his
time, records allow us only a glimpse of what must have been a fascinating and multi-faceted character.

Poor Alan de Walsingham really did lose a good deal to Thomas de Lisle. When Bishop Crauden died in 1344, the monks of Ely
elected Alan as Crauden’s successor. Unfortunately for Alan, the ambitious de Lisle happened to be in Avignon with the Pope
at the time, and the monks’ election was overruled in de Lisle’s favour. When de Lisle died in 1361, Alan was elected by the
monks a second time, but was passed over in favour of Simon Langham (later Archbishop of Canterbury). Alan never did become
Bishop of Ely.

A Roll of Edward III (35 Ed III), dating to 1361, lists various monks at the priory with reference to a purchase of the Manor
of Mephale. These monks allocated specific sums of money, all of which are meticulously noted. Among the names are: Alan de
Walsingham, Sub-prior Thomas de Stokton, Robert de Sutton, William Bordeleys, Henry de Wykes, Roger de Hamerton, Symon de
Banneham, John de Welles and John de Bukton.

Northburgh and Stretton also existed. Northburgh was a royal clerk by 1310, and was considered elderly when he attended a
council of bishops in 1341. He was a favourite of Edward II (1307–1327), who regularly wrote to the Pope, begging favours
on his behalf – including a request that Northburgh might be excused a trip to Rome when made Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield,
because he was busy with other things. Northburgh held some very powerful posts, including that of Chancellor of Cambridge
University from 1320 to 1326. However, he did little with his authority, and he is damningly summarised as a man ‘whose ambition
was greater than his ability’ by one biographer.

Stretton was collated to the canonry of St Cross in Lincoln in 1353, and held several other prestigious posts before moving
to Lichfield on 14 December 1358. A mere two
weeks later Bishop Northburgh died, and Stretton became his successor on the direct orders of the Black Prince, eldest son
of Edward III (1327–77). However, records state that Stretton was so illiterate that complaints were made to Pope Innocent
VI. The Pope ordered an enquiry, during which Stretton was examined and found sadly lacking. Probably at the suggestion of
the Black Prince, Stretton hurried to Avignon, where he demanded an audience with the Pope himself.

The Pope ordered a second assessment of Stretton’s religious knowledge, but the verdict was the same as the first:
propter defectum literaturae
. However, the King refused to consecrate another bishop in Stretton’s place, and kept the See vacant, seizing all the revenues
for himself in the meantime. Two years later the Pope ordered yet another examination, this one conducted by the Archbishop
of Canterbury. Stretton had not grown any more intelligent in the interim, and the Archbishop said so. In exasperation, wanting
the whole affair done with, the Pope ordered the consecration anyway. The Archbishop refused to do it himself, but directed
two of his suffragans to conduct the ceremony, which they did on 27 September 1360. Stretton enjoyed his position for twenty-five
years, during which time most of his episcopal work was carried out by deputies. The Black Prince and Edward III were rewarded
for their support with a chantry and a priest who was paid to pray for their souls.

The town of Ely was fairly prosperous in the 1300s, largely due to the presence of the cathedral and its priory. Ely was especially
noted for its rope industry, and it also possessed a pottery. Trading was possible via the River Ouse, which linked it to
Cambridge as well as the area to the north. The causeways were important, and, although the priory maintained them to a certain
extent, they were liable to flood. There were also outlaws at large, who knew that the merchants and wealthy clerics who used
the road were well worth the risk of robbing.

The motte-and-bailey-style castle had never been much of
a fortress. It saw some action during the anarchy in the reign of Stephen (1135–56), but some sources say there was already
a windmill on the motte by 1229. No castle was recorded in documents dating to 1259, so it seems it had disappeared by then.
By the 1350s it was probably little more than a few foundations, and the stone, a valuable commodity in the Fens, would have
been spirited away for use on the cathedral, priory or town.

The map at the front of the book is based on references to street names used in the twelfth to fourteenth centuries. Some
of these are still extant, and the names make more sense when viewed in their medieval geographical context. For example,
Brodhythe and Ship Lane refer to ancient quay sites, while Steeple Gate refers to a steeple on the Church of the Holy Cross,
which has long since disappeared.

The 1348–50 plague, which was not dubbed the Black Death until the nineteenth century, caused major changes in the social
structure of England. Wages were kept artificially low by a bill passed in the early 1350s, but labour was scarce and the
price of food was high. Rebellion was in the air. However, it was not until 1381 that the troubles came to a head. The Peasants’
Revolt was far more violent in Ely than in the rest of the shire, and was sparked by a new poll tax. Its ring-leaders in Ely
included a man named John Michel, who was a chaplain. Local men were Richard de Leycestre of ‘Bocherisrowe’, Robert Buk and
Adam Clymme.

Clymme called on the local peasantry to decline to pay taxes and to behead lawyers, while Leycestre urged them to ‘destroy
traitors to the king and the common folk’. The revolt began on 15 June 1381, and within a few days Leycestre had given ‘sermons’
in the church and cathedral, and various officials had been executed and their remains placed on display in the town pillory.
The rebellion spread like wildfire into the Fens, and the rebels marched to nearby Ramsey to continue their work. But the
authorities were ready for them, and the leaders were quickly apprehended and executed.

A number of other characters in the book are also based on real people. Agnes Fitzpayne was mentioned in the mid-thirteenth
century as a woman with money to donate to the priory, while records show that one Julian Barbour was landlord of the Lamb
Inn at some point. Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde also appear in medieval records as city residents. It is difficult to know
how many inns were present in Ely in the 1350s, but there were probably several. Records show that the White Hart, the Bell
and the Lamb are among the oldest.

And finally, Blanche de Wake and Thomas de Lisle really did have a serious feud. De Lisle was accused of firing some cottages
on Blanche’s estates at Colne near Huntingdon, and was tried (in his absence) and found guilty by the King. De Lisle refused
to pay the fine, and the ensuing row threatened to spill over into a dispute between Church and state. A number of bishops
and other churchmen intervened on de Lisle’s behalf, but the King made de Lisle pay the fine anyway. By this time, de Lisle’s
lavish lifestyle had left him somewhat impoverished, and he spent the rest of his life trying to pay off his substantial debts.
At some stage, the feud with Blanche resulted in a steward being murdered. De Lisle’s steward, Ralph, was generally thought
to be responsible, although de Lisle vigorously denied the charges. Was de Lisle complicit in the murder? It seems likely,
although we shall never know for certain.