Wednesday August 6 2025
Floris, the fifth named storm of the 2024/25 season, began in the North Atlantic. She crossed the two and a half thousand miles to Scotland, then reached Cumbria on August 4. Friends in southern England sent messages, as they always do when the weather makes the news.
You okay? .... At least M can enjoy a day off.
That night M and I lay in bed and listened to the wicked wind and lashing rain. Floris wreaked havoc in Scotland: trees down, power lost. By the time her fury crossed the border though, she made little more than noise here in Cumbria. And M did not take the next day off. M is building a field stone wall, seven metres long and a metre and a half high, with his team. It is Wednesday afternoon. So far this week I have risen earlier than M to shape the dough I mixed the night before into baguettes. I do this so M can take fresh bread to work. A small act of support. An offering against larger worries. The wall is taking weeks to build. But our son, who has the most experience on M’s team, and the strength that M - at sixty plus - no longer has, has worked with him for the odd day only.
Our anxieties around our son’s mental health feel tremendous. I have never known tired eyes that last all day until recently. In-between writing, I do little things to help myself. A little time working on a musical score, pottering in our garden. Each night, lately, I rub lavender-scented magnesium into the soles of my feet. I wake in the small dark hours, read a chapter of Paul Lamb’s Of Thorn and Briar or anything by Colm Tóibín. Books offer a different kind of balm.
This morning I drove to the garden where M is working to drop off one of his team. There was no room in his van for more than three, and he was picking up our son from his flat. It is the first time our son has worked with M this week. It is something. Actually, it feels like a big deal, I thought, driving home. By the time I reached my desk it was ten o’clock. Just like the old days, when I would start writing after the school run and whatever else I needed to do.
I think about time cycling back on itself. Roles shifting. Rhythms repeating. The old ways surfacing in small, modern acts. I think of my mother in what is now our kitchen, baking bread.
Friday August 8 2025
A Potted History of Medieval Manors.
For all the hours researching and writing in libraries, churches, county archives, Gilcrux comes most clearly into focus when I’m walking the footpaths, bridleways and lonnings. And, before or after that, when I’m at home looking at the old maps. (1) That’s when I see something like what Peter Dunn and Steven Conlin see in their artistic reconstructions of Wharram Percy, (2) perhaps the most well-known (deserted) medieval village in England, one hundred and fifty miles east of here, on the Yorkshire Wolds. The earthworks, ditches/dykes, hedgerows, watercourses. The way the land holds shapes.
The manorial system emerged in the early medieval period as the fundamental unit of rural organisation and agricultural production. A manor comprised the lord's demesne (land he kept for himself) and peasant holdings, all centred around a manor house and village. Peasants - free villeins and unfree serfs - worked strips of land in the common fields while owing labour services, rents and dues to their lord. The lord provided protection, administered justice through his manor court, and controlled the village mill, bakery and other essential services.
Here was a self-sufficient economic system which bound peasants to the land through legal obligations and custom. Here were tight-knit rural communities that formed the agricultural foundation upon which the later feudal hierarchy of military and political relationships would develop. Much of what we see at Wharram Percy belongs to the later medieval period. But beneath it, archaeologists found earlier traces: arable fields that may date to the village’s first years. An English Heritage excavation in 2002 confirmed Wharram Percy did not appear all at once.
Brian Roberts’s survey of Maulds Meaburn, (3) a Cumbrian village fifty miles from Gilcrux, argues that most English villages took shape through the division of land, not by chance clustering. Our village shares a similar layout with Maulds Meaburn, and its formation, at least the one we can still see today, probably happened at around the same time - about 1170. You see, while we think St Mary's church in Gilcrux was founded between 980 and 1100, the south aisle dates from around 1170 (see footnote 7, re. Rev. Price.) There was likely a settlement (4) here long before, with strong Norse links, but that’s another story.
After The Battle of Hastings in 1066, Norman power moved north in stages. For the most part, (5) William the Conqueror left it to the Scots to govern what is now known as Cumbria. There were long-standing overlords, (6) Gospatric, nephew of King Duncan of Scotland, held the region. Then there was Malcolm III (AKA Malcolm Canmore) who ruled the region as William’s vassal. In 1092, William Rufus (third son of William the Conqueror) took full control in 1092 and built Carlisle Castle. Carlisle is about twenty-five miles from Gilcrux. By 1100, Henry had given the Lordship of Carlisle to Ranulph le Meschin and Ranulph’s brother, William, took the Barony of Copeland. Gospatric’s son, Waltheof, (7) received Allerdale, which included this lowland village - Gilcrux - (8) from William.
Allerdale was so named after the valley of the River Ellen. Waltheof granted the village and the neighbouring village to Adam, son of Liulf. (9) It was not a symbolic gift, I imagine. Adam gained land to farm and rights over the village’s labourers. He may have lived elsewhere. His bailiff would have enforced the system on the ground.
Following the earlier manorial system, the feudal system formed the political and military framework of medieval society. The king granted large estates (fiefs) to his chief nobles in exchange for homage, loyalty and military service. These great lords then sub-granted portions of their lands to lesser nobles, who owed similar obligations upward through the hierarchy. Each link in the feudal chain created bonds of personal loyalty between lord and vassal, secured by ceremonial acts of homage and backed by land tenure. Knights at the bottom of the noble hierarchy held enough land to support their military equipment and training. The system of mutual obligations (essentially, land for service) created a decentralised structure of governance where local lords wielded considerable power within their territories. The framework rested upon the manorial system's agricultural base, where peasant labour supported the military classes above them.
After Waltheof died, Waltheof’s son, Alan of Allerdale, inherited the lordship. Alan became a key patron of a new Cistercian Monastery foundation: Holm Cultram Abbey (about twelve miles away from Gilcrux.) The title Lord of Allerdale doesn’t appear to have passed to a third holder in the same hereditary line.
Monks occupied a unique position outside the standard feudal hierarchy while still being integrated into it. Monasteries were major landholders, often among the wealthiest institutions in medieval Europe, receiving grants from kings and nobles seeking spiritual rewards (and political alliances.) The Cistercians were agricultural innovators who cleared forests, drained marshes and developed advanced farming techniques on their estates. Monasteries functioned as corporate feudal lords. They owed military service to their overlords but typically paid scutage (money payments) instead of providing knights directly. Their abbots might have held the same political status as secular barons, attending royal councils and managing networks of dependencies.
The monks worked the land themselves, unlike secular nobles who relied on peasant labour. What an interesting parallel system. While secular feudalism extracted surplus from peasant agriculture, monastic communities combined prayer, manual labour and estate management. Their economic success often surpassed that of lay lords, and their corporate nature, if you like, meant they could accumulate wealth across generations without the inheritance divisions that fragmented secular holdings.
Monasteries, therefore, seem to have represented both an alternative to feudal society, as well as one of its most successful expressions.
Twenty-five miles away from Gilcrux, Calder Abbey, established in 1134 by Ranulf II de Gernon (Ranulph Meschin’s son,) had endured a turbulent start, attacked, abandoned, and re-founded before settling into a steady life. Beatrice de Molle is granted five bovates of land in the village and a quarter share of the mill from her brother, or cousin: William, son of Liolf de Molle. William was the true donor; her uncle, Adam, son of Uhtred, a local lord holding under Alan of Allerdale, issued a confirmation charter to ratify William’s gift.
The transaction, in the Register of St Bees Priory, names among its witnesses Gospatric son of Orm and his son Thomas, Alan son of Ketel, and Uhtred son of Ketel. Because those men are witnesses, I think I can date it to sometime between 1160-1170. Soon after receiving the land, Beatrice gave it, and her share of the mill, to Calder Abbey. For Beatrice, the donation promised prayers for her soul and lasting remembrance. For Gilcrux, it meant that by the end of the 12th century two Cistercian abbeys - Holm Cultram and Calder - had interests or land here.
Alan of Allerdale’s grant of land made Holm Cultram abbey possible. Founded in 1150 by Cistercian monks under the patronage of Prince Henry, son of King David I of Scotland, Holm Cultram became one of the most significant Cistercian houses in Cumbria, holding extensive lands across the region. One of its later acquisitions came in 1240, when William d’Orm d’Ireby gave the abbey property which, we think, lay opposite St Mary's, including the ‘Tower of Laurence’ and associated tofts and gardens.
Today, many place names with Grange mark where these medieval farmsteads once stood. Grange Farm in our village, and Grange Farm in the neighbouring village are links to that era.
“Henry is said to have enfeoffed William Meschin (Ranulph de Meschin's brother) in Copeland for the service of one knight, Waltheof, son of Gospatrick in Allerdale, paying in cornage the substantial figure of £15 13s 4d nearly one fifth of the sum due from the whole district of Carlisle.” (10) In Cumbria, one of the distinctive payments under the feudal system was cornage, a tax for the right to graze cattle, originally linked to sounding a horn in times of danger. By Beatrice de Molle’s time, the horn-blowing was symbolic, but the payment remained a fixed part of the manorial dues. It was often collected twice a year, alongside other obligations like ploughing the lord’s demesne or carrying goods to market. Cornage must have been a constant reminder that even a cow’s grazing depended on one’s place in the feudal web.
The medieval village organised itself around a fundamental truth: survival depended on managing three different types of land, arable for oats (the staple grain, ground into cakes and pottage, brewed into ale that was safer to drink than water,) meadows for hay, and pasture.
Understanding the field system though - and wondering how much it has changed since the medieval period - requires thinking about medieval farming as a spectrum of land use rather than fixed categories.
Arable (and Infields)
Farmers here in the 12th century divided their arable land into two categories. The infields, closest to the village, received intensive cultivation year-round through manure application. From the 1840s tithe maps I’ve looked at in the country archives, and an 1865 Ordnance Survey map (annotated by Reverend Price,) our village infields included Scatgate, Fauldsteads, Brackengill and Ludgegate. These names suggest their functions. Fauldsteads likely combines "fauld" (sheep fold) with "steads" (places), indicating areas where penned sheep provided manure for adjacent cultivation. Brackengill probably pairs "bracken" with "gill" (stream), suggesting infield created by clearing bracken from well-watered land. The infields used a strip system: narrow riggs just two perches wide (about eleven metres). To maintain manorial control and dilute risk, each tenant held scattered strips across different infields, sharing both fertile and poor sections.
Beyond the infields lay occasional cultivation areas. Field names from the historical maps preserve the medieval diet: Hovelands and Peaselands indicate oats, barley, and peas were grown when these areas were cultivated. There are fields on the outskirts of the village where ridge and furrow patterns remain visible, each ridge representing one family's allocation, frozen in the earth. Meadows. The Hayfields Without hay, livestock died. Without livestock, there was no milk, cheese, oxen for ploughing, manure for fertilising fields. Behind our cottage, up the lonning, lie Tongue Ings, High Meadow and Streets (from the 1841 and 1865 maps). The name "Streets" is intriguing, it could refer to land that produced hay while providing corridors for moving livestock between different manor areas, but I’m speculating. Tongue Ings combines "ings" (from Old Norse, meaning water meadow) with "tongue" (describing the field's shape).
Whether Tongue Ings, a small field - today at least, functioned as a hayfield I don’t know. Medieval meadows operated under seasonal rules: closed to grazing from early spring until after hay harvest. The timing of the harvest would have been coordinated by manor officials, probably the bailiff, based on weather and grass maturity. Cut too early and the yield suffered; wait too long and nutritional value declined.
In the footnotes below I'll suggest a number of ways (though, anywhere outside of England is beyond my knowledge base) in which you might get involved in helping save what’s left of our ancient haymeadows, or get involved in making new haymeadows.
Pasture (and Outfields)
Beyond the managed hay meadows and intensively worked arable fields lay the most complex part of the medieval landscape: the outfields. These areas included what we might call pasture, but they served multiple functions that changed according to the village's needs. Our village outfields included Haggs and Moorfield. These lands, part of ‘the commons’ were finally divided and enclosed in 1686, according to Reverend Price and deeds and maps I looked at in the county archives. "Hagg" likely derives from Old Norse "hag," meaning "to cut" (where villagers cut peat for fuel?) The same area could potentially be drained and cultivated during years when population growth demanded more arable land. Moorfield suggests multiple uses through its name. Probably originally open moorland shared among villagers, it would have provided rough grazing, fuel gathering, building materials and possibly emergency cultivation during poor harvests. I’ve so much to learn, still.
M and I rise early. I shape bread with my hands, he shapes stone walls with his. We echo patterns of labour that stretch back through centuries. I think of [our son.]
Also see: Historic England Images (no date) Illustrations by Peter Dunn, Steven Conlin et al - Wharram Percy Medieval Village. Available at: https://images.historicenglandservices.org.uk/heritage/reconstructing-past-medieval-life-illustrations/wharram-percy-medieval-village-j890256-509949.html?srsltid=AfmBOooDpJ54lyvSu9fko6tHpN8Oh1ORBf10dzgzVATy0qYMD5Y3w3Rk (date last accessed: Wednesday August 6, 2025)
For example: “Hereward’s original wife allegedly became a nun at Crowland (where Dolfin’s brother Waltheof may, incidentally, have later retired.)” McGuigan, 2015, p. 129
[Translation.] “Waldevus, son of Count Cospatric, granted [enfeoffed] Oderus of Logis with the barony of Wigton, Dondraft, Waverton, Blencogo, and Kirkbride, who founded the church of Wigton. He [Waldevus] also gave to Oderus, son of Liolf, Talintyre and Castlebridge with the forest between Caltre and Greta, and to the Prior and Convent of Gisburn, Appleton and Brigham Church, with the right to appoint the priest of that same church. And he gave to Adam, son of Liolf, Uldale and Gilcrux.”
Hay meadow conservation. Available at: https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/our-cause/nature-climate/nature-conservation/hay-meadow-conservation (date last accessed: Wednesday August 13, 2025)
Natural England (2013) National Vegetation Classification: MG5 grassland - TIN147. Available at: https://publications.naturalengland.org.uk/publication/6626052 (date last accessed: Wednesday August 13, 2025)
Office for National Statistics (2022) Habitat extent and condition, natural capital, UK. Available at: https://www.ons.gov.uk/economy/environmentalaccounts/bulletins/habitatextentandconditionnaturalcapitaluk/2022 (date last accessed: Wednesday August 13, 2025)
Neil McGuigan’s PhD thesis remains invaluable: McGuigan, N. (2015) Neither Scotland nor England: Middle Britain, c.850-1150. PhD thesis, University of St Andrews. Available at: http://hdl.handle.net/10023/7829 (date last accessed: Wednesday August 13, 2025)
I have drawn extensively from the notes on the main points of the talks on the history of [the village] given by the Rev. F.L. Price during the Autumn of 2001. The Rev. Price’s notes provided local insight into how the manorial and feudal system operated specifically in our village.
John Lewis-Stempel's writing inspires me and helps me to understand land through time in, for example, Woodston: The Biography of an English Farm (London: Doubleday, 2021) and Meadowland: The Private Life of an English Field (London: Black Swan, 2015).
Sylvia Townsend Warner's extraordinary work of fiction The Corner That Held Them (London: Chatto & Windus, 1948; reissued by Little, Brown Book Group 2012) inspires a narrative nonfiction insight into what the daily realities of medieval institutional life might have been, and how monasteries and manors intersected in the medieval era.
For understanding the broader context of Cistercian monasticism, I found guidance in The Cistercians in the Middle Ages by Janet Burton and Julie Kerr (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2011.)
