Winning a dispute over a castle was one thing. Getting the man inside to hand over the keys could be quite another: photography & miniature painting by Martin Brook
Some of the best ideas I’ve had for The Barons’ War have begun with an argument rather than a battle. A lord wins a claim to a castle, somebody else refuses to hand it over, and the sheriff is ordered to sort things out. I can already see a game in that.
Alongside my work on The Barons’ War, I’ve been gathering research for a longer-term project I’m calling The Baronial World. I’d like someone building a retinue around a real medieval lord to be able to find out who he was, what lands he held and which neighbours had good reason to dislike him. It will be some time before I’m ready to share it properly, but the research is already giving me ideas for games.
A castle awarded, but not surrendered
In 1195, Fulk FitzWarin’s father offered forty marks to secure his claim to Whittington Castle in Shropshire. The royal accounts recorded that the castle had already been awarded to him in the king’s court. There was one rather substantial problem. He never actually got possession of it.
Whittington remained in the hands of Meurig of Powys, whose father had received the castle from Henry II. The elder Fulk died in 1197 without recovering it, leaving his son, also called Fulk, to continue the argument.
In 1200, the younger Fulk offered King John £100 for Whittington, claiming it as his rightful inheritance. Meurig offered fifty marks to have his own possession confirmed, and John chose to support him. The king issued a charter confirming Meurig’s position in April that year.
King John seems to have been running an auction where the highest bidder wasn’t guaranteed to win.
Fulk was still no closer to recovering Whittington. A later romance tells of his rebellion and exploits against John, but it was written decades afterwards. For the argument over the castle, the royal accounts give us a firmer trail to follow.
By 1204, Meurig had died and his sons held the castle. Fulk made another offer, this time of 200 marks and two valuable warhorses. John accepted, and the sheriff of Shropshire was ordered to deliver Whittington to him.
What strikes me is how long the argument went on. The FitzWarins had a judgement in their favour, yet spent years trying to take possession. Royal support changed sides, while the people already holding Whittington had every reason to stay where they were.
Making sure everyone knows who is lord
You don’t need a castle for this sort of trouble. Suppose a lord has been granted a manor previously held by a rival. He arrives with his household Warriors, accompanied by a steward who intends to take possession and appoint a new bailiff. Perhaps the previous lord has withdrawn. Perhaps some of his men are still occupying the manor house, convinced that the grant will eventually be overturned.
The newcomer could arrive quietly, with a few servants and the necessary documents. But what if he comes with a dozen armed men, horses and his banner?
He’s making a deliberate show of strength. His rival needs to understand that he’s prepared to defend his claim, while everyone living on the manor can see who has arrived and who appears to have the authority to remain. If the previous lord wants to challenge him, he’ll have to do so knowing that the newcomer has brought men willing to fight.
For the villagers, this would be rather more than an argument between two wealthy men. Who would collect their rents? Whose court would deal with disputes? What happened if they accepted the new lord’s authority and the old one returned with his household Warriors a fortnight later? Having two lords arguing over who should collect the rent was hardly an improvement on having just one.
That display might persuade the previous lord’s remaining supporters to withdraw without a fight. It might also have exactly the opposite effect, particularly if the newcomer begins throwing his weight around.
In 1202, two Lincolnshire magnates, Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme, were found to have unlawfully dispossessed tenants at Barton upon Humber and Sotby respectively. These were separate cases involving the lords and their own tenants, rather than a confrontation between the two magnates.
Those records don’t tell us that either lord arrived with a banner and a dozen household Warriors. They do show that people could be deprived of their land by the very lords who were supposed to uphold their rights.
Photography by Andy Hobday.
I can see a game here in which a lord sends a few armed men to clear a disputed holding, only to find that the tenants aren’t prepared to leave. The most determined Warriors on the table might be the ones with the worst equipment.
When money becomes a quarrel
William de Braose provides a different sort of quarrel. He had enjoyed King John’s favour, but his enormous debts to the Crown put their relationship under increasing strain. Lands and castles were given as security, and demands for hostages made the disagreement more dangerous still.
The surviving accounts disagree about precisely what caused the final breach. According to John’s account, de Braose failed to honour an agreement over his debts, while he and his sons attacked castles that had been surrendered to the king as security. Another account, recorded by Roger of Wendover, describes de Braose’s wife, Maud, refusing to hand over her sons as hostages because she feared what John might do to them.
Whatever the precise cause, the quarrel became disastrous for the family. William eventually fled into exile, while Maud and their eldest son were captured and imprisoned. Both died in royal custody, reportedly from starvation.
The king’s pursuit of de Braose reached beyond his immediate family. William Marshal and the de Lacys sheltered him when he fled to Ireland, putting their own positions at risk. His followers would have had to decide whether to stand by him or try to avoid being caught in the quarrel.
What happens after the first fight?
Winning the first fight wouldn’t necessarily settle the quarrel. If our new lord drives his rival’s men away from the manor and installs his bailiff, the displaced lord still believes the place is his. From his point of view, the argument may only have begun.
Perhaps the defeated lord begins gathering his supporters. Or he sends a few men to intercept the new bailiff when he travels to collect rents from a neighbouring village. The new lord could find himself having to escort his officials and supplies through land where his authority is far from secure.
If the first game goes the other way, the claimant has a different problem. He’s been made to retreat in front of the villagers, having arrived with his banner and armed household. Does he return with more men, ask his allies for support or attempt to secure another judgement in his favour?
The interesting part for me is that the first game gives the next one its purpose. If the bailiff gets home with the rents, his lord has the money he came to collect. If he loses them, he might have to find another way to keep his household paid and supplied.
I’d also want the characters involved to influence what happens. A cautious lord might accept a temporary setback while he pursues a legal claim. Another might be so offended by being turned away that he immediately begins preparing to retaliate. The men following them may have their own reasons for wanting the dispute settled, particularly if their homes and land are involved.
Turning Whittington into a scenario
When I use a dispute like this for a game, I’m interested in the point where someone has to act. Fulk wanted Whittington, and the castle was still in the hands of Meurig’s sons. In 1204 John ordered the sheriff to deliver it to him. The record tells us about that order, not a fight at the gates. If I decide the garrison resists, that’s a scenario I’ve invented, not a battle we know took place.
I’d put a gatehouse or fortified hall on the table, with the sheriff and his escort approaching it. The defenders don’t need to defeat the whole retinue; they need to keep the sheriff out. His men must get him inside and hold on long enough to take possession. I’d agree with my opponent how long the garrison must resist and what happens if the sheriff becomes a casualty. If the escort goes charging off after the defenders and leaves the man with the writ standing on his own, they’ve rather missed the point.
Putting these three disputes on the table
The first dispute takes the sheriff to Whittington. The other two follow our imagined manor quarrel, first at the hall and then along the road with its rents. I’d use them as starting points rather than finished scenarios, changing the number of Warriors and the scenery to suit the retinues we have available.
The Sheriff’s Writ. The sheriff has orders to hand over a castle, but the garrison still answers to its former lord. Give him an escort and make reaching the gates and securing possession the objective. The garrison wins if it can turn him away or keep him out until the end of the game.
The New Lord. A lord arrives at a disputed manor with his banner and bailiff. His retinue must get the bailiff into the hall and keep him there; his rival’s men need to turn him away in front of the villagers. The fight is over the hall, not how many Warriors either side loses.
Collecting What’s Owed. After the manor changes hands, its bailiff sets out with rents and a small escort. Put a cart or packhorse on the road; the escort must get it clear of the table while the displaced lord’s supporters try to seize it. Play this after The New Lord and let that result decide whose bailiff is travelling and whose men are waiting for him.
Photograph by Wargames Atlantic used with kind permission.
Where to find your own disputes
For King John’s reign, I keep going back to the Magna Carta Project. Its work on Fulk FitzWarin gives you the claims, the payments and the decisions, rather than just the story that grew up around him later. I’ve found that following a name or a place mentioned in one account often leads to another argument worth reading about.
There’s also a good example from a slightly later period in The National Archives’ account of Ravenser Odd. In 1291, the people of Grimsby accused their rivals on the island of forcing merchants to land there instead. That’s later than the period of The Barons’ War, but I can see a game built around an escorted cargo being intercepted on its way to market. If you want to dig further into actual medieval court cases, the National Archives’ guide to the general eyres is useful, although you may need to consult records that aren’t available online.
I’d start close to home. Pick a castle, manor or family name you recognise, and look for a claim somebody refused to accept. A court record might give you little more than a judgement and the names of the people involved, but that can be enough to begin with.
If you find a dispute that would make a good game, I’d be interested to hear about it in the comments. I’m collecting these stories for The Baronial World, and I know there are plenty I haven’t come across yet.
Sources and further reading
It’s worth reading the different accounts of de Braose’s quarrel side by side. John’s version and the one preserved by Roger of Wendover don’t tell quite the same story.
1. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 40, The Case of Fulk FitzWarin. The claims to Whittington Castle and the offers made to King John before the sheriff was ordered to deliver it. Read the research
2. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 60. The obligations of lords towards their tenants, including the 1202 Lincolnshire cases involving Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme. Read the research
3. Ronan Mackay, William de Braose, Dictionary of Irish Biography. The debts, demands for hostages and conflicting accounts of de Braose’s quarrel with King John. Read the biography
Next time I set out a manor house and a few cottages, I suspect the most important miniature on the table won’t be the knight with the biggest sword.
It might be the bailiff he’s brought along to collect the rents.
Some of the best ideas I’ve had for The Barons’ War have begun with an argument rather than a battle. A lord wins a claim to a castle, somebody else refuses to hand it over, and the sheriff is ordered to sort things out. I can already see a game in that.
Alongside my work on The Barons’ War, I’ve been gathering research for a longer-term project I’m calling The Baronial World. I’d like someone building a retinue around a real medieval lord to be able to find out who he was, what lands he held and which neighbours had good reason to dislike him. It will be some time before I’m ready to share it properly, but the research is already giving me ideas for games.
A castle awarded, but not surrendered
In 1195, Fulk FitzWarin’s father offered forty marks to secure his claim to Whittington Castle in Shropshire. The royal accounts recorded that the castle had already been awarded to him in the king’s court. There was one rather substantial problem. He never actually got possession of it.
Whittington remained in the hands of Meurig of Powys, whose father had received the castle from Henry II. The elder Fulk died in 1197 without recovering it, leaving his son, also called Fulk, to continue the argument.
In 1200, the younger Fulk offered King John £100 for Whittington, claiming it as his rightful inheritance. Meurig offered fifty marks to have his own possession confirmed, and John chose to support him. The king issued a charter confirming Meurig’s position in April that year.
King John seems to have been running an auction where the highest bidder wasn’t guaranteed to win.
Fulk was still no closer to recovering Whittington. A later romance tells of his rebellion and exploits against John, but it was written decades afterwards. For the argument over the castle, the royal accounts give us a firmer trail to follow.
By 1204, Meurig had died and his sons held the castle. Fulk made another offer, this time of 200 marks and two valuable warhorses. John accepted, and the sheriff of Shropshire was ordered to deliver Whittington to him.
What strikes me is how long the argument went on. The FitzWarins had a judgement in their favour, yet spent years trying to take possession. Royal support changed sides, while the people already holding Whittington had every reason to stay where they were.
Making sure everyone knows who is lord
You don’t need a castle for this sort of trouble. Suppose a lord has been granted a manor previously held by a rival. He arrives with his household Warriors, accompanied by a steward who intends to take possession and appoint a new bailiff. Perhaps the previous lord has withdrawn. Perhaps some of his men are still occupying the manor house, convinced that the grant will eventually be overturned.
The newcomer could arrive quietly, with a few servants and the necessary documents. But what if he comes with a dozen armed men, horses and his banner?
He’s making a deliberate show of strength. His rival needs to understand that he’s prepared to defend his claim, while everyone living on the manor can see who has arrived and who appears to have the authority to remain. If the previous lord wants to challenge him, he’ll have to do so knowing that the newcomer has brought men willing to fight.
For the villagers, this would be rather more than an argument between two wealthy men. Who would collect their rents? Whose court would deal with disputes? What happened if they accepted the new lord’s authority and the old one returned with his household Warriors a fortnight later? Having two lords arguing over who should collect the rent was hardly an improvement on having just one.
That display might persuade the previous lord’s remaining supporters to withdraw without a fight. It might also have exactly the opposite effect, particularly if the newcomer begins throwing his weight around.
In 1202, two Lincolnshire magnates, Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme, were found to have unlawfully dispossessed tenants at Barton upon Humber and Sotby respectively. These were separate cases involving the lords and their own tenants, rather than a confrontation between the two magnates.
Those records don’t tell us that either lord arrived with a banner and a dozen household Warriors. They do show that people could be deprived of their land by the very lords who were supposed to uphold their rights.
Photography by Andy Hobday.
I can see a game here in which a lord sends a few armed men to clear a disputed holding, only to find that the tenants aren’t prepared to leave. The most determined Warriors on the table might be the ones with the worst equipment.
When money becomes a quarrel
William de Braose provides a different sort of quarrel. He had enjoyed King John’s favour, but his enormous debts to the Crown put their relationship under increasing strain. Lands and castles were given as security, and demands for hostages made the disagreement more dangerous still.
The surviving accounts disagree about precisely what caused the final breach. According to John’s account, de Braose failed to honour an agreement over his debts, while he and his sons attacked castles that had been surrendered to the king as security. Another account, recorded by Roger of Wendover, describes de Braose’s wife, Maud, refusing to hand over her sons as hostages because she feared what John might do to them.
Whatever the precise cause, the quarrel became disastrous for the family. William eventually fled into exile, while Maud and their eldest son were captured and imprisoned. Both died in royal custody, reportedly from starvation.
The king’s pursuit of de Braose reached beyond his immediate family. William Marshal and the de Lacys sheltered him when he fled to Ireland, putting their own positions at risk. His followers would have had to decide whether to stand by him or try to avoid being caught in the quarrel.
What happens after the first fight?
Winning the first fight wouldn’t necessarily settle the quarrel. If our new lord drives his rival’s men away from the manor and installs his bailiff, the displaced lord still believes the place is his. From his point of view, the argument may only have begun.
Perhaps the defeated lord begins gathering his supporters. Or he sends a few men to intercept the new bailiff when he travels to collect rents from a neighbouring village. The new lord could find himself having to escort his officials and supplies through land where his authority is far from secure.
If the first game goes the other way, the claimant has a different problem. He’s been made to retreat in front of the villagers, having arrived with his banner and armed household. Does he return with more men, ask his allies for support or attempt to secure another judgement in his favour?
The interesting part for me is that the first game gives the next one its purpose. If the bailiff gets home with the rents, his lord has the money he came to collect. If he loses them, he might have to find another way to keep his household paid and supplied.
I’d also want the characters involved to influence what happens. A cautious lord might accept a temporary setback while he pursues a legal claim. Another might be so offended by being turned away that he immediately begins preparing to retaliate. The men following them may have their own reasons for wanting the dispute settled, particularly if their homes and land are involved.
Turning Whittington into a scenario
When I use a dispute like this for a game, I’m interested in the point where someone has to act. Fulk wanted Whittington, and the castle was still in the hands of Meurig’s sons. In 1204 John ordered the sheriff to deliver it to him. The record tells us about that order, not a fight at the gates. If I decide the garrison resists, that’s a scenario I’ve invented, not a battle we know took place.
I’d put a gatehouse or fortified hall on the table, with the sheriff and his escort approaching it. The defenders don’t need to defeat the whole retinue; they need to keep the sheriff out. His men must get him inside and hold on long enough to take possession. I’d agree with my opponent how long the garrison must resist and what happens if the sheriff becomes a casualty. If the escort goes charging off after the defenders and leaves the man with the writ standing on his own, they’ve rather missed the point.
Putting these three disputes on the table
The first dispute takes the sheriff to Whittington. The other two follow our imagined manor quarrel, first at the hall and then along the road with its rents. I’d use them as starting points rather than finished scenarios, changing the number of Warriors and the scenery to suit the retinues we have available.
The Sheriff’s Writ. The sheriff has orders to hand over a castle, but the garrison still answers to its former lord. Give him an escort and make reaching the gates and securing possession the objective. The garrison wins if it can turn him away or keep him out until the end of the game.
The New Lord. A lord arrives at a disputed manor with his banner and bailiff. His retinue must get the bailiff into the hall and keep him there; his rival’s men need to turn him away in front of the villagers. The fight is over the hall, not how many Warriors either side loses.
Collecting What’s Owed. After the manor changes hands, its bailiff sets out with rents and a small escort. Put a cart or packhorse on the road; the escort must get it clear of the table while the displaced lord’s supporters try to seize it. Play this after The New Lord and let that result decide whose bailiff is travelling and whose men are waiting for him.
Photograph by Wargames Atlantic used with kind permission.
Where to find your own disputes
For King John’s reign, I keep going back to the Magna Carta Project. Its work on Fulk FitzWarin gives you the claims, the payments and the decisions, rather than just the story that grew up around him later. I’ve found that following a name or a place mentioned in one account often leads to another argument worth reading about.
There’s also a good example from a slightly later period in The National Archives’ account of Ravenser Odd. In 1291, the people of Grimsby accused their rivals on the island of forcing merchants to land there instead. That’s later than the period of The Barons’ War, but I can see a game built around an escorted cargo being intercepted on its way to market. If you want to dig further into actual medieval court cases, the National Archives’ guide to the general eyres is useful, although you may need to consult records that aren’t available online.
I’d start close to home. Pick a castle, manor or family name you recognise, and look for a claim somebody refused to accept. A court record might give you little more than a judgement and the names of the people involved, but that can be enough to begin with.
If you find a dispute that would make a good game, I’d be interested to hear about it in the comments. I’m collecting these stories for The Baronial World, and I know there are plenty I haven’t come across yet.
Sources and further reading
It’s worth reading the different accounts of de Braose’s quarrel side by side. John’s version and the one preserved by Roger of Wendover don’t tell quite the same story.
1. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 40, The Case of Fulk FitzWarin. The claims to Whittington Castle and the offers made to King John before the sheriff was ordered to deliver it. Read the research
2. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 60. The obligations of lords towards their tenants, including the 1202 Lincolnshire cases involving Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme. Read the research
3. Ronan Mackay, William de Braose, Dictionary of Irish Biography. The debts, demands for hostages and conflicting accounts of de Braose’s quarrel with King John. Read the biography
Next time I set out a manor house and a few cottages, I suspect the most important miniature on the table won’t be the knight with the biggest sword.
It might be the bailiff he’s brought along to collect the rents.
Some of the best ideas I’ve had for The Barons’ War have begun with an argument rather than a battle. A lord wins a claim to a castle, somebody else refuses to hand it over, and the sheriff is ordered to sort things out. I can already see a game in that.
Alongside my work on The Barons’ War, I’ve been gathering research for a longer-term project I’m calling The Baronial World. I’d like someone building a retinue around a real medieval lord to be able to find out who he was, what lands he held and which neighbours had good reason to dislike him. It will be some time before I’m ready to share it properly, but the research is already giving me ideas for games.
A castle awarded, but not surrendered
In 1195, Fulk FitzWarin’s father offered forty marks to secure his claim to Whittington Castle in Shropshire. The royal accounts recorded that the castle had already been awarded to him in the king’s court. There was one rather substantial problem. He never actually got possession of it.
Whittington remained in the hands of Meurig of Powys, whose father had received the castle from Henry II. The elder Fulk died in 1197 without recovering it, leaving his son, also called Fulk, to continue the argument.
In 1200, the younger Fulk offered King John £100 for Whittington, claiming it as his rightful inheritance. Meurig offered fifty marks to have his own possession confirmed, and John chose to support him. The king issued a charter confirming Meurig’s position in April that year.
King John seems to have been running an auction where the highest bidder wasn’t guaranteed to win.
Fulk was still no closer to recovering Whittington. A later romance tells of his rebellion and exploits against John, but it was written decades afterwards. For the argument over the castle, the royal accounts give us a firmer trail to follow.
By 1204, Meurig had died and his sons held the castle. Fulk made another offer, this time of 200 marks and two valuable warhorses. John accepted, and the sheriff of Shropshire was ordered to deliver Whittington to him.
What strikes me is how long the argument went on. The FitzWarins had a judgement in their favour, yet spent years trying to take possession. Royal support changed sides, while the people already holding Whittington had every reason to stay where they were.
Making sure everyone knows who is lord
You don’t need a castle for this sort of trouble. Suppose a lord has been granted a manor previously held by a rival. He arrives with his household Warriors, accompanied by a steward who intends to take possession and appoint a new bailiff. Perhaps the previous lord has withdrawn. Perhaps some of his men are still occupying the manor house, convinced that the grant will eventually be overturned.
The newcomer could arrive quietly, with a few servants and the necessary documents. But what if he comes with a dozen armed men, horses and his banner?
He’s making a deliberate show of strength. His rival needs to understand that he’s prepared to defend his claim, while everyone living on the manor can see who has arrived and who appears to have the authority to remain. If the previous lord wants to challenge him, he’ll have to do so knowing that the newcomer has brought men willing to fight.
For the villagers, this would be rather more than an argument between two wealthy men. Who would collect their rents? Whose court would deal with disputes? What happened if they accepted the new lord’s authority and the old one returned with his household Warriors a fortnight later? Having two lords arguing over who should collect the rent was hardly an improvement on having just one.
That display might persuade the previous lord’s remaining supporters to withdraw without a fight. It might also have exactly the opposite effect, particularly if the newcomer begins throwing his weight around.
In 1202, two Lincolnshire magnates, Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme, were found to have unlawfully dispossessed tenants at Barton upon Humber and Sotby respectively. These were separate cases involving the lords and their own tenants, rather than a confrontation between the two magnates.
Those records don’t tell us that either lord arrived with a banner and a dozen household Warriors. They do show that people could be deprived of their land by the very lords who were supposed to uphold their rights.
Photography by Andy Hobday.
I can see a game here in which a lord sends a few armed men to clear a disputed holding, only to find that the tenants aren’t prepared to leave. The most determined Warriors on the table might be the ones with the worst equipment.
When money becomes a quarrel
William de Braose provides a different sort of quarrel. He had enjoyed King John’s favour, but his enormous debts to the Crown put their relationship under increasing strain. Lands and castles were given as security, and demands for hostages made the disagreement more dangerous still.
The surviving accounts disagree about precisely what caused the final breach. According to John’s account, de Braose failed to honour an agreement over his debts, while he and his sons attacked castles that had been surrendered to the king as security. Another account, recorded by Roger of Wendover, describes de Braose’s wife, Maud, refusing to hand over her sons as hostages because she feared what John might do to them.
Whatever the precise cause, the quarrel became disastrous for the family. William eventually fled into exile, while Maud and their eldest son were captured and imprisoned. Both died in royal custody, reportedly from starvation.
The king’s pursuit of de Braose reached beyond his immediate family. William Marshal and the de Lacys sheltered him when he fled to Ireland, putting their own positions at risk. His followers would have had to decide whether to stand by him or try to avoid being caught in the quarrel.
What happens after the first fight?
Winning the first fight wouldn’t necessarily settle the quarrel. If our new lord drives his rival’s men away from the manor and installs his bailiff, the displaced lord still believes the place is his. From his point of view, the argument may only have begun.
Perhaps the defeated lord begins gathering his supporters. Or he sends a few men to intercept the new bailiff when he travels to collect rents from a neighbouring village. The new lord could find himself having to escort his officials and supplies through land where his authority is far from secure.
If the first game goes the other way, the claimant has a different problem. He’s been made to retreat in front of the villagers, having arrived with his banner and armed household. Does he return with more men, ask his allies for support or attempt to secure another judgement in his favour?
The interesting part for me is that the first game gives the next one its purpose. If the bailiff gets home with the rents, his lord has the money he came to collect. If he loses them, he might have to find another way to keep his household paid and supplied.
I’d also want the characters involved to influence what happens. A cautious lord might accept a temporary setback while he pursues a legal claim. Another might be so offended by being turned away that he immediately begins preparing to retaliate. The men following them may have their own reasons for wanting the dispute settled, particularly if their homes and land are involved.
Turning Whittington into a scenario
When I use a dispute like this for a game, I’m interested in the point where someone has to act. Fulk wanted Whittington, and the castle was still in the hands of Meurig’s sons. In 1204 John ordered the sheriff to deliver it to him. The record tells us about that order, not a fight at the gates. If I decide the garrison resists, that’s a scenario I’ve invented, not a battle we know took place.
I’d put a gatehouse or fortified hall on the table, with the sheriff and his escort approaching it. The defenders don’t need to defeat the whole retinue; they need to keep the sheriff out. His men must get him inside and hold on long enough to take possession. I’d agree with my opponent how long the garrison must resist and what happens if the sheriff becomes a casualty. If the escort goes charging off after the defenders and leaves the man with the writ standing on his own, they’ve rather missed the point.
Putting these three disputes on the table
The first dispute takes the sheriff to Whittington. The other two follow our imagined manor quarrel, first at the hall and then along the road with its rents. I’d use them as starting points rather than finished scenarios, changing the number of Warriors and the scenery to suit the retinues we have available.
The Sheriff’s Writ. The sheriff has orders to hand over a castle, but the garrison still answers to its former lord. Give him an escort and make reaching the gates and securing possession the objective. The garrison wins if it can turn him away or keep him out until the end of the game.
The New Lord. A lord arrives at a disputed manor with his banner and bailiff. His retinue must get the bailiff into the hall and keep him there; his rival’s men need to turn him away in front of the villagers. The fight is over the hall, not how many Warriors either side loses.
Collecting What’s Owed. After the manor changes hands, its bailiff sets out with rents and a small escort. Put a cart or packhorse on the road; the escort must get it clear of the table while the displaced lord’s supporters try to seize it. Play this after The New Lord and let that result decide whose bailiff is travelling and whose men are waiting for him.
Photograph by Wargames Atlantic used with kind permission.
Where to find your own disputes
For King John’s reign, I keep going back to the Magna Carta Project. Its work on Fulk FitzWarin gives you the claims, the payments and the decisions, rather than just the story that grew up around him later. I’ve found that following a name or a place mentioned in one account often leads to another argument worth reading about.
There’s also a good example from a slightly later period in The National Archives’ account of Ravenser Odd. In 1291, the people of Grimsby accused their rivals on the island of forcing merchants to land there instead. That’s later than the period of The Barons’ War, but I can see a game built around an escorted cargo being intercepted on its way to market. If you want to dig further into actual medieval court cases, the National Archives’ guide to the general eyres is useful, although you may need to consult records that aren’t available online.
I’d start close to home. Pick a castle, manor or family name you recognise, and look for a claim somebody refused to accept. A court record might give you little more than a judgement and the names of the people involved, but that can be enough to begin with.
If you find a dispute that would make a good game, I’d be interested to hear about it in the comments. I’m collecting these stories for The Baronial World, and I know there are plenty I haven’t come across yet.
Sources and further reading
It’s worth reading the different accounts of de Braose’s quarrel side by side. John’s version and the one preserved by Roger of Wendover don’t tell quite the same story.
1. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 40, The Case of Fulk FitzWarin. The claims to Whittington Castle and the offers made to King John before the sheriff was ordered to deliver it. Read the research
2. The Magna Carta Project, Clause 60. The obligations of lords towards their tenants, including the 1202 Lincolnshire cases involving Gilbert de Gant and Simon of Kyme. Read the research
3. Ronan Mackay, William de Braose, Dictionary of Irish Biography. The debts, demands for hostages and conflicting accounts of de Braose’s quarrel with King John. Read the biography
Next time I set out a manor house and a few cottages, I suspect the most important miniature on the table won’t be the knight with the biggest sword.
It might be the bailiff he’s brought along to collect the rents.
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Rules
Optional weather rules for The Barons’ War Second Edition, with snow, sleet, rain, fog and extreme heat ready for playtesting.
Projects
How I built William d’Aubigny’s first 500 points for The Barons’ War Second Edition, from his household Knights to the Green Levy, with the painted retinue and downloadable army list.
Rules
How I set up a 4' x 3' table for The Barons’ War, why a skirmish game needs plenty of useful terrain, and how the Second Edition terrain guidance helps build a better battlefield.
FROM THE BLACK DESK
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