456 – Law and Order: Durham

Welcome to the British History Podcast.

My name is Jamie, and this is episode 456: Law and Order, Durham.

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William's first year as king had probably not gone down as he had hoped.

And as Bishop Odo and his co-conspirators boarded their ships and sought sanctuary in Normandy, Rufus could only return to court and count the rest of his problems.

And for one, there was still the matter of Bishop William of Durham.

And we're gonna tell his story for a couple reasons.

First, it's messy, and I love mess.

But beyond that, the Bishop of Durham's story is a window into the legal chaos of late 11th century England.

And it's a perfect example of the chasm that's growing between King Rufus and the church.

And on top of that, everyone in this story is just terrible.

And the main figures involved take a problem and then choose to escalate it at every chance they get.

Which, as we're going to discuss as we go on, is kind of a defining characteristic of this new Norman aristocracy.

So here we go.

Now, you'll remember, Bishop William of Durham is the guy who initially snitched on Odo, only to switch sides, flee Rufus' court, and become a rebel himself.

Well, while the rebellion in the south was playing out, up north in Durham, things were going a bit wild as well.

Because when Bishop William fled, Rufus had issued an arrest warrant.

And that meant there were people coming after him.

Now, one of the defining characteristics of Rufus' early reign was that he kept on his father's people.

And this key choice meant that there was a real continuity between his reign and the reign of William the Conqueror.

And it also meant that the people Rufus tasked with carrying out his wishes were well versed in the way that old Billy Bastard liked to do things.

So naturally, once that warrant was issued, the king's men immediately seized the bishop's properties.

And once they couldn't get their hands on the actual bishop, they instead imprisoned a bunch of the bishop's people.

And it appears that one of the bishop's biggest opponents and his biggest local threat was one of those sheriffs that Rufus had kept on.

And this sheriff was, of course, named Ralph.

According to the bishop, the king's men in York and Lincoln had been attacking his men, had been seizing his properties, and they'd been nicking his cash.

And the worst among them, we're told, was Sheriff Ralph of York.

And he'd even gone so far as to declare the bishop and his friends as essentially enemies of the kingdom.

So as this rebellion went on, and especially as it was winding down, it had been an awful time for the bishop and the people under his charge.

And so now that Odo's rebellion was over, he was kind of hoping the king would be open to sorting this whole mess out.

And so Bishop William of Durham sent King Rufus a letter professing his innocence in Odo's rebellion.

In this letter, he begs the king to undo all the harm that was done to Durham over what was, as far as the bishop was concerned, just a big misunderstanding.

And he also pointed out that he had never actually been cited for any crime, nor had he refused the jurisdiction of the court.

And stick a pin in that one.

That argument is going to age like milk.

So, with that letter drafted, the bishop handed it off to a trusted messenger and then hunkered down to wait for a response.

And, you know, it was a pretty long wait.

It's not like he could send an email or hop on the next Great northern train.

This messenger would have to hoof it all the way down to London, get an audience with the king, deliver the letter, wait for the king's reply, and then hoof it all the way back up north.

Medieval text messaging took a while.

But eventually, the messenger returned, and he looked a little pale.

It turned out that Rufus had decided to dictate his response right in front of the poor guy.

As such, he was able to report not just the text, but also the fury behind it and the king's other actions as well.

Rather than returning the bishop's properties, the king, in front of the messenger, handed them all out to his own barons and supporters, to good loyal men like Earl Alan Rufus.

And as for the matter of Bishop William, Well, he demanded that the bishop come to court and answer for all that he was accused of.

Which shouldn't be a problem for the bishop since he claimed he'd never been cited for anything and had never refused the king's jurisdiction.

And to ensure that he actually made it to court, he issued a guarantee of safe passage to the bishop.

And back down at court, perhaps now feeling a little bit better, Rufus had expected a bit of weight on this letter that he sent north.

But that weight stretched on.

And on.

Where the hell was the bishop of Durham?

I mean, sure, travel in the late 11th century sucked, but this went well beyond normal travel time.

The bishop was standing him up.

And I'm guessing the king took this slight in a particularly undignified way, and Archbishop Lanfrank had to talk him down, because we're told that the abbot of St.

Augustine was dispatched personally to meet with Bishop William and figure out what the holdup was.

And that meant even more waiting.

But eventually, the abbot returned.

And he was alone.

But at least he had a story.

Apparently, Bishop William was afraid to come south because Sheriff Ralph of York had made it his personal mission to make the bishop's life hell.

In fact, the bishop's last messenger, the one who arrived at court, had only barely made it back alive because the sheriff had attacked him on the return journey and even killed his horse.

The poor messenger had barely managed to escape on foot.

And the bishop swore that he had intended to send another messenger to London to let the king know what was going on, but Sheriff Ralph refed that one up too.

And so now messengers were just too afraid to go south.

Even worse, the bishop claimed that the messengers had actually shown Sheriff Ralph the writ of safe passage, but Ralph refused it.

And then, on the following day, Ralph seized a bunch of church properties and redistributed them, ransoming some of the lands back to their tenants and selling other lands outright.

So the bishop apologized for the inconvenience, but he was just too afraid to come south right now.

But the bishop also stressed that he was very eager to come to court and prove his innocence.

In this letter, he says, quote, I am still prepared to come to your court under such a safe conduct as shall bring me to you and carry me home to my church.

And in the presence of all your barons, I will defend myself against the charge of having either made to anyone or received from anyone any pledge or oath which should damage your person or your lands or your honor.

So that seemed pretty straightforward.

Grant him safe passage, and then the bishop will come south, attend court, and answer the charges that are brought against him.

Easy peasy.

So Rufus issued another grant of safe conduct, and he made sure that everyone knew that he meant it this time, including Sheriff Ralph.

And after another period of waiting, Bishop William arrived at court.

Finally,

it was time for this guy to answer for his crimes in open court.

And the bishop, for his part, said he was all too happy to be tried.

In fact, he couldn't wait.

But

there was just one small adjustment that would need to be made.

It had to be an ecclesiastical trial.

Meaning, he wouldn't be tried by the king, nor his barons.

The bishop would be tried by his buddies.

Rufus about lost his mind.

There was no way he was going to allow this old priest's crusty robe-draped friends to sit in judgment over his fate.

That wouldn't be a trial.

That would be a fix.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

That wasn't happening.

And besides, Rufus didn't want to try the bishop over his bishop duties.

This had nothing to do with the church.

The bishop had broken earthly law and engaged in literal treason.

That was layman stuff, so he would be tried as a layman.

Realizing the king wasn't falling for it, Bishop William turned to Archbishop Lanfrank and asked for his help.

And Landfrank refused, saying the king had forbidden him from providing any advice.

Well, advice to him.

He could still provide advice to the king, of course.

The bishop then argued that Lanfrank was duty-bound by the church to provide him with advice.

But the Archbishop, who was officially the supreme authority in England on these kinds of matters, disagreed.

So Bishop William turned to the other assembled clergy members, and with them he was met with a similar freeze-out.

He was on his own.

And that was bad news, because his legal arguments here were a bit novel, and he could use some backing from some higher authorities.

Because ultimately, what was at issue here was that the king wanted to try him for treason as a layman, because that's a layman thing.

And the bishop was taking the position that he was a bishop no matter what he did.

And that sounds exhaustingly familiar.

Even worse with this situation, Rufus had promised this guy safe passage, probably not considering the fact that when he said he'd be happy to be tried by the barons, he wasn't telling the truth.

And so the bishop of Durham just basically shrugged and said, well, since we can't resolve this, I'm off.

And then he packed up his stuff and just headed back to Durham.

Which is bold.

But while the bishop bishop was in court, the king's men in Durham had been busy, and they had, quote, plundered him of more than 700 men and an immense booty, end quote.

Which makes me think that Rufus saw this move coming from several miles away.

Then, after a lengthy trip on the road, the bishop managed to get home and realized that, oh boy, a bunch more of his stuff had been taken.

And so he sent another letter to Rufus.

And in it, he insisted he was innocent of everything, and he was eager to prove that innocence.

But unfortunately, evil people within the government were conspiring against him.

Now, if you're counting, this is declaration of eagerness number three.

And the bishop went on to write that he was so committed to proving his innocence that if the king really did want him to be tried as a layman, fine, he'd do it.

But then he added a little caveat.

Quote, if anyone desire to oppress me by an open suit, while the security of the aforesaid protection is observed, it shall be lawful for me to oppose it, according to the right judgment of my order, in that place in which it shall be canonically judged.

End quote.

So what he's saying is he'll come to court as a layman, but if anyone raises any charges against him, then he will only be tried as a bishop.

Meaning, the king could do a lay trial, but not if he was going to do a lay trial against the bishop, which isn't much of an offer at all, right?

It's just a restatement of his initial position, that I'm a bishop always, and I can only be tried by an ecclesiastical court.

And here's the thing with this offer.

With every letter that the bishop sent, he caused a further delay.

So justice was being sent further and further out on the horizon.

And I suspect this was part of the strategy from the the start, because this had already been going on for ages, and he had been evading trial this whole time.

Which again

sounds exhaustingly familiar.

Anyway, some poor messenger, hopefully not the same one, had to deliver this new letter to the king.

And so, again, after a period of delay, the messenger arrived.

But here's the thing about delay tactics that rely on institutional process.

They only work when your opponent believes in the process.

Opponents who are institutionalists.

And Rufus?

Well, he wasn't.

So the king took one look at this letter, and he threw the messenger in prison.

Then he mustered an army.

F ⁇

this bishop.

Now, by this point, Bishop William was inside Durham, which was a notoriously strong fortress.

So he was largely safe.

But his lands and the people who were subject to him weren't.

And King Rufus' army took advantage of that fact and ravaged the lands of Durham.

Now, if you remember, at the start of Odo's rebellion, Rufus had promised the English that he was turning a page from the policies of his father.

He promised that he'd focus on justice and restoration of previous rights and privileges, and even promised that the old laws governing England would be restored in accordance to the wishes of his subjects.

And not even months later, we see him stripping lands and titles, ravaging lands within his own kingdom, and taking the position that his views on the law were really the only views that mattered, which is pretty much exactly like his father.

And remember, the primary villain in this story, Sheriff Ralph, had been appointed by his father.

So people were quickly cottoning on to the fact that they'd been had.

And King Rufus had no intention of keeping the promises that he had made to the English.

And this realization hit so hard that the bitterness is prominent in the record.

But you can be angry all you want.

The fact was, Rufus had an army, and that army was ravaging Durham.

And while the bishop had his castle and supporters, that was significantly less than what the king had.

So they had no choice.

They had to arrange a truce.

And so the bishop's barons met with the king's earls, and the king agreed to stop the pillaging.

In return, the bishop and his followers agreed that they would be taken to court for trial.

But since the bishop was so concerned about justice, The Earls agreed that he could return safely to Durham on the chance that the king didn't provide him with a fair trial within Episcopal law.

There's a lot of caveats and specifics in the record of this agreement, but that's the general gist of it.

And the bishop also agreed that in his absence, his men wouldn't expand or reinforce their defenses within Durham.

With that handled, the bishop was taken to court, which, because of its traveling nature, was currently located at Salisbury.

And by this point, it was November.

Now the king had issued a warrant for this bishop all the way way back on March 12th, which means that all of this wrangling and all of these letters and all the various trips had caused this thing to drag out for eight months and counting.

And considering that trials at this point usually took less than a day and Odo's three-day trial was seen as wildly lengthy, By the time that Bishop William arrived at Salisbury, this thing had dragged out longer than anyone believed was even possible.

And so obviously, one of the king's servants asked the bishop to immediately appear at court.

And the bishop responded that, instead, you know, he'd like to go and meet with his fellow bishops, because thus far, none of them, quote, ventured either to kiss him or speak to him, end quote.

This request got a quick deny.

Get your ass to court.

The bishop refused, saying,

well, he wasn't sure what to wear.

I mean,

really,

how does one dress for this sort of occasion?

Should he wear his vestments?

And what about Landfrank and the other bishops?

What are they going to wear?

I mean, surely, this required some degree of discussion and analysis, don't you think?

To which Landfrank said, no, I don't think.

adding that they were fully competent to hear his case and the king's case and that matters of clothing weren't going to be an issue for them.

So the bishop, now well out of options, finally appeared in court.

And from here, we get the best episode of Law and Order that you've never seen, because it was real and it was also medieval.

Now, we have a detailed record of this meeting, but I'm gonna give it to you in our vernacular, because if I just give you the original transcript,

Well, first, it's in Latin, but even if I did the translation, it'll give you the impression that it was way more dignified than it was.

And the truth is, this was a mess, and nobody comes out looking dignified.

So, once in court, Bishop William declared that he was the victim of tyranny, and that his see had been wrongfully taken from him without judgment.

In response, Lanfrank argued that the king hadn't deprived him of a single thing, and if he had, there should be some kind of proof of it, right?

And the bishop pointed across the room and shouted, there's your proof.

And he was pointing at Sheriff Ralph.

That guy took my lands in York, and he roughed up my men, sent letters to my neighboring barons instructing them to attack me and mine, and then he and other nobles who are also here in attendance, I note, led an army into my sea, ravaged it, stole my wealth, and forced me to renounce my see, all on the king's orders.

Lanfrank watched this outburst and then, once it was over, said, look, if you want to bring your personal stuff before the court fine but first you need to submit to the king's demands and get yourself right in his eyes after you've done that then you can bring up whatever petty grievances you might have

to this the bishop asked is that a judgment or is it advice because apparently you can't give me advice and lanfrank responded it's just what the king and i think is appropriate sweetie the other members of court taking their cue from the archbishop joined in and demanded that the bishop answer to the king first.

And the bishop basically told the members of court to shut their damn yaps and let the grown-ups talk, because he had no interest in discussing these matters with layfolk, and he wouldn't respect any of their lowly lay opinions anyway.

And he would like everyone to remember that he was a bishop and that neither a king nor his court could conduct a trial of a bishop.

And Rufus just stared for a moment.

Hadn't this all been settled?

Hadn't the bishop agreed to answer for the charges?

And so we're told the king said, quote, I had fully expected that the bishop would, in the first instance, have made answer to me as to those matters respecting which I accuse him.

And I am much astonished to find he requires the opposite to this, end quote.

Bishop William replied that he had told the king repeatedly that he would not accept lay judgment and would only answer to the church.

And even then, he wouldn't even accept an accusation until he's restored to all of his properties and titles.

And one of the king's men, Hugh de Beaumont, decided to test this theory, saying, didn't you abandon the king when he most needed your support against the rebels?

And, true to his word, the bishop refused to answer, instead saying that he would love to to defend his actions and prove that everything he did was lawful, but he would only do it in a trial within the church.

And once there, he would absolutely purge himself of all of the charges.

And there it was.

He wanted to go through an ecclesiastical trial because he wanted to undertake the oath of purgation, meaning that he wouldn't be found guilty.

Instead, he would be completely absolved.

The court exploded.

Some were arguing against the bishop's position on legal grounds.

Others were just outright threatening to come over and show him some absolution rather roughly.

And the bishop, throughout all of this, just stood there, silent, and I assume, smug.

This whole thing was getting out of control.

And so Bishop Jeffrey of Couton stood up and he said, look,

this isn't getting us anywhere.

Let's leave court and discuss this issue away from the Bishop of Durham.

And we can figure out how we're going to handle this.

But Landfrank stood up and said, f ⁇ that.

If anyone should leave, it should be that asshole right over there.

At this, the Bishop of Durham finally spoke up and said he would agree to leave, but he told Landfrank and the others that they should not confer with any lay people on this matter.

To which Landfrank said, whatever we do, we'll do according to right.

Basically, mind your business.

But things had gone too far for Hugh de Beaumont.

And so before the bishop could leave, he shouted that if he's not allowed to judge the bishop, then the bishop and his order would never sit in judgment against him.

At which the bishop shot back that if the court's judgment was in any way in opposition to the canons, he was going to outright reject it anyway.

And then he marched out of court and his followers followed in hot pursuit.

Everyone else remained in the hall, probably looking for a pillow to scream into or something.

We're not told the specifics of the debate that followed, but the records tell us that this meeting on what to do about the bishop caused a, quote, very considerable delay, end quote, on the proceedings.

But eventually, the bishop was called back to court.

And by this point, even Archbishop Thomas of York was in attendance.

And we know this because we're told he was the one who delivered the decision.

Quote, my lord bishop, our archbishop and the court of the king had decided that you ought to do right to the king before he reinvests you in your fief, end quote.

The bishop refused, saying, no, no, no, no.

The king needs to make things right by me first.

So Archbishop Thomas corrected him, informing him that the court had judged that the king doesn't have to give the bishop anything first.

Judgment was done.

Now do as instructed.

So the bishop said, quote, I should be glad to see any canonical sentence which would prove to me that this judgment is canonical, for I have never either learned nor heard of a judgment of this sort, neither in ecclesiastical cases nor in any Christian law, end quote.

And realizing that we were back to this again, Lanfrank spoke up.

And he told the bishop that this was a just decision.

And so the bishop now just had two choices, accept it and obey, or deny it and face the consequences.

And the bishop of Durham went for option number three.

He wanted a delay of trial so he could go confer with the other bishops.

And Lanfrank was all, no.

You cannot confer in private with the bishops.

The bishops are the ones sitting in judgment against you.

Are you even for real?

Talk to your own people if you want advice.

And the bishop responded by saying that his people were basically worthless when it came to wisdom and counsel.

So pretty please, can I talk to the bishop judges?

Did I stutter?

No!

And so then the bishop declared that this entire trial was improper.

In fact, even the way he was summoned was improper.

It was all outside of the canons and thus all illegitimate.

And because the bishops acting as judges in this case refuse to kiss him and because they won't meet with him in private to organize a defense, well, they must be conspiring against him and be in league with his enemies.

As such, quote, I find in our law that I am forbidden to accept such a sentence as is this, although such is my folly, I wish I could accept it.

The Archbishop and my primate, out of their respect to God and their order, and out of love for myself, ought to restrain me from making such a presumption.

And since I perceive that the king's king's dislike of me has made you all my enemies, I appeal to the Apostolic See of Rome and the Holy Church and the Blessed Peter and his vicar that by means of his decision, my business may obtain a just settlement.

⁇ End quote.

That's right.

He'd love to accept the judgment.

But he just can't, because he's pretty sure the king doesn't like him.

and that there's a grand conspiracy against him.

As such, he has no choice but to delay these proceedings even further while he seeks an appeal in Rome with the finging pope.

And I don't know about you, but I'm getting serious deja vu.

It feels like I'm just cribbing off CNN at this point.

Anyway, Archbishop Landfrank was not having it.

And he snapped, quote, we are not adjudicating respecting your episcopal functions, but as to your fief.

And in this same manner, did we pass sentence heretofore in the time of this king's father upon the bishop of Bayeux, in respect of his fief, nor did the king address him by the designation of bishop in that plea, but styled him brother and earl, end quote.

And he was right.

There was clear precedent here.

And so the bishop, out of options, clung desperately to semantics.

Because now he started arguing that he hadn't been talking about his fief at all.

He'd been talking about his bishopric.

To which Lanfrank spat back, sure, maybe you're not talking about your fief, but you have one, a large one, and that's what we're talking about, you jackass.

To which the bishop replied, well,

you all seem very smart and clearly I'm very stupid.

But I think we should probably let the pope decide this one, don't you think?

So, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to Rome and bring this before Pope Urban II.

And this argument apparently went on for quite some time, before finally Hugh de Beaumont issued the court's decree.

Because the bishop refused to accept the lawful judgment and even refused to answer any of the charges, and because he's now insisting on removing the trial to Rome, he has forfeited his fief.

The bishop, again, insisted that he would actually love to answer the charges, and he was completely ready to prove his innocence.

Just not like this.

Instead, he's going to go to Rome and prove his innocence there.

And what was probably clear in the room, but might not be clear to you now, is that the Pope wasn't going to be well versed on the politics, laws, and fiefdoms of Northern England.

So the idea that Rome would get the bishop a fair and accurate trial was clearly nonsense, but it would definitely delay things, and it also might get him a friendlier audience.

And the king didn't miss a single bit of that.

So Rufus declared that because the bishop refuses to abide by the sentence of the court, he must surrender his castle.

The bishop asked what canonical law allowed him to seize a bishop's castle, because he certainly had never agreed to surrender his castle on these grounds.

And here's the thing about this next bit.

I assume, along with historians, that William Rufus was a ginger.

And the thing about gingers is they tend to flush.

So I imagine that this next series of events involve Rufus changing colors rapidly throughout the whole process.

At a flush of pink at this flagrant disregard of his court and his rule, Rufus roared at the bishop that, quote, you should never escape my hands until I have this castle, end quote.

The bishop said, sure, I'm not going to resist your seizure of the castle, but

please hold off.

You know, why don't I just have my men stay there, you know, to ensure that the city and the castle stays loyal to you while I go to visit the Pope?

And the king, probably turning red now, shot back, quote, you shall not on any account return to Durham, nor shall your men under any pretense remain in Durham, nor shall you escape my hands until you have given up up that castle of yours to me unconditionally.

End quote.

Sorry, but I can't possibly do that.

See, I've got this agreement with the Earls that they'll return me safely to the church, so

I'm kind of bound.

I'm sorry.

Realizing that there might be an opening here, Lanfrank jumped in and said, quote, if the bishop any longer refuses to surrender his castle to you, you are fully justified in making him your prisoner.

For the safe conduct, which had hitherto protected him, he renders invalid by being himself the first to break the terms of the agreement.

And what he is now driving at is this, to induce your barons to keep their faith at your cost.

End quote.

At this, Sheriff Ralph and the lay court basically shouted, get him!

But Alan Rufus jumped in and interceded, insisting that by the terms of the agreement that the bishop had struck with him personally, safe passage was still guaranteed, at least as far as he was concerned.

So he asked the king not to force him to break his oath.

Landfrank jumped on the grenade, telling Earl Allen that he was now relieved of his oath due to the bishop's behavior.

But if the bishop of Durham was willing to admit that the judgment of this court was just, then the king would be happy to provide ships and safe conduct for his papal appeal.

The bishop passed on this offer and told the earls that regardless of what the archbishop just said, they were bound to conduct him back to Durham.

Period.

Landfrank was clearly at his wit's end and ranted that there was nothing just or orderly about what the bishop was doing here.

He pointed out that when an accusation is brought, you have to either submit or deny.

But the bishop was refusing to do either.

He wouldn't even give specific reasons as to why he was dissenting.

To which the bishop said, and I quote, I have the best reasons for dissenting.

And that's real.

That's a real actual quote from Simeon.

I'm not making it up.

And he goes on to say that, quote, at Rome, I will give my reasons for this rejection of your sentence, end quote.

Rufus wasn't falling for it, but he was definitely turning purple now.

And he told the bishop that he could talk all he wanted, but he wasn't leaving here without handing over that castle.

And the bishop told the king that he could imprison him if he wanted.

He didn't care.

And so after much wrangling, finally a date was selected on which the bishop's men would be removed from Durham and they would be replaced by the king's men.

Now, the king was pretty obviously livid, both figuratively and literally, but at least the matter was finally settled.

And then the bishop spoke up again.

And he said,

you know,

since I'm losing my properties,

are you going to give me an allowance or something?

Landfrank could hardly believe his ears.

And whatever grip he had on his temper was lost.

And he essentially said to the bishop, All you have to do is do the king justice in his court according to the decision of his barons.

And if you do, you can stay home in your own country and the king will restore you to your see.

But instead, you're here talking about going to Rome, which is gonna bring disgrace upon all of us.

And you have the balls to ask the king for an allowance?

So

that's a no then, huh?

Well, I guess I'll take that up with the Pope as well.

At which point, we're told the Archbishop said, quote, if you go to Rome without the king's permission, we will advise him what ought to be done with your diocese.

And the bishop told the archbishop he could advise the king however he saw fit.

He didn't care anymore, since it was clear they were all conspiring against him.

The bishop then launched into an entire litany of things that he had done in the service of the king, and then reiterated all of his grievances, stressing how he was the victim here, and insisted that, once again, he would be happy to defend himself of the charges in an ecclesiastical setting where he would take the oath of purgation.

This, obviously, was followed by a lot more arguing, with Lanfrank getting increasingly exhausted and the king getting increasingly colorful.

And it's hard to blame him.

During the course of these arguments, the king had gradually made concessions, and the bishop kept asking for more.

Eventually, it was agreed upon that the bishop would remain as a prisoner at Wilton until the castle was turned over to the king, at which point the king would then provide ships and safe conduct for the bishop's travel to Rome.

And here's how the bishop of Durham accepted this arrangement.

Quote, since I am prevented from doing as I wish to do and ought to do, I submit to this arrangement which you propose.

But it is an act of injustice.

I do so by constraint, end quote.

They say that if you listen very closely on a calm November night in Salisbury, you can still hear the sound of the veins popping out of Rufus's forehead.

Now, at about this point, another courtier stood up and reminded the king that one of the charges against the bishop was that his retainers were kind of cattle rustlers.

They'd apparently stolen 200 cattle from Bishop Geoffrey of Coutons and refused to make any restitution, even when ordered in the king's name.

And Rufus basically said, oh, f,

I completely forgot about the goddamn cattle rustling.

Can I reopen this case against him?

And Lamfrank said, unfortunately, no.

You've already given him the right of safe conduct and closed these proceedings.

And this actually isn't a crime against you.

It's a crime against Goutens.

So we're stuck.

And they say that if you listen very closely on a windy November night in Salisbury, you can still hear the sound of King Rufus screaming.

Anyway, the bishop was taken off to Wilton, and while he was there, Ivo de Taliblois and the king's men seized the castle of Durham and explained that the bishop and his men had a guarantee of safe passage to cross the sea.

But the bishop's men in Durham probably should have read the fine print.

Because that guarantee didn't actually include them.

At least, not as far as Ivo was concerned.

And so he captured a couple of the bishop's knights, and he forced them to plead to the king about that cattle wrestling we just talked about.

And for good measure, Ivo also nicked one of their horses while he was at it.

Meanwhile, at Hampton, the bishop was preparing to make his voyage, and he wanted the ships to be brought to him.

He also wanted to make the crossing with his ally, Roger de Mowbray.

But when he asked, the king's men told him no.

You see, they have been strictly instructed to keep him in England and at the king's disposal until they received express permission from the king to do otherwise.

So, rather than sailing for Rome, the bishop spent over a month just waiting for permission to leave.

And then, at Christmas, he was summoned to the king's court.

Not to get permission to leave, though.

He was summoned to answer for that cattle rustling and pillaging and the murder of one of the king's men.

The king was ready for another trial.

And Bishop William reportedly said, quote, I did none of these things, and I and my men have a secure, safe conduct.

Nor can I again go to his court, for he has deprived me of all I possessed.

I have sold my horses and eaten up the money.

But, if he permits me and my men to depart, and preserves the faith pledged by his earls, I will, by God's mercy, proceed to the Church of Rome, to which I have been constrained of my necessity to appeal.

But if not, before I am apprehended, here in the sight of you all, I will make oath in respect to all these accusations which you bring against my men, that not one of these things was done either by my orders or by my knowledge, although I might have done so with justice, for I might deal with my own as I pleased until I was dispossessed of my see by the king.

⁇ End quote.

Basically, I'm not going to court because we didn't do it.

And if we did do it, it was legal.

And if it wasn't legal, go f yourself.

Anyway, I want to go.

And the king's men reiterated that they couldn't allow the bishop to leave England without the king's express permission.

And so the bishop, exasperated, wanted to know exactly what he was supposed to do here.

As far as he was concerned, he had done all that was required.

The castle was surrendered, after all.

So why can't he leave?

Unsatisfied with the response, he reached out to Earl Alan Rufus, Earl Roger de Montgomery, and apparently Odo, and he asked them for their help.

And we're told that the three then communicated to King Rufus that, if he didn't release the bishop, then they were gonna do it for him, which sounds like a threat of another war to me.

And so, reluctantly, the king allowed Bishop William to board his ships and sail for Rome.

But he didn't go to Rome.

He went to Normandy, where he was received with great honor and invested with enormous amounts of power by Duke Robert.

Nice.

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