GLYNDWR AND LORD GREY OF RUTHIN
1400-1401
Reginald, Lord Grey, of Ruthin, the prime cause of all the wars that
devastated Wales and the English Marches throughout the first ten
years of the fifteenth century, was a typical Lord Marcher, and was
perhaps the worst of a fierce, unscrupulous, and pitiless class. His
ancestors had been in the Vale of Clwyd for over a hundred years. At
Edward's conquest the first Earl had been planted by the King at
Ruthin to overawe the Welsh of what is now northern Denbighshire and
of the two recently created counties of Flint and Carnarvon which lay
upon either side. There were other Lord Marchers and other English
garrisons between Chester and Carnarvon, but at the time this story
opens the Greys were beyond a doubt the most ardent and conspicuous
props of the English Crown. The great Red Castle at Ruthin, the
"Castell y Gwern Loch," had risen in Edward's time beside the upper
waters of the Clwyd, and its ample ruins still cluster round the
modern towers where the successors of the fierce Lord Marchers
exercise a more peaceful sway.
[Illustration: RUTHIN CASTLE.
FROM OLD PRINT.]
Around Ruthin Castle, as at Denbigh, Conway, and Carnarvon, a group of
English adventurers--soldiers, tradesmen, clerks, and gentlemen--had
gathered together and built for themselves habitations, aided by
favourable charters from the King, and still greater favours from
their lord, who leant upon their services in times of danger. They led
profitable, if sometimes anxious lives. Welsh and English alike
pleaded before the lordship courts, whose records may still be read by
the curious in such matters. Both Welsh and English laws,
theoretically at any rate, were administered within the lordship, but
as the Lord Marcher was, within his own domain, a law unto himself,
the state of affairs that existed at Ruthin and similar places was
complicated and is not immediately pertinent to this story. It will be
quite accurate enough for present purposes to describe Grey as
surrounded and supported by armed burghers and other dependents,
mainly but not wholly of English blood, while the mass of the Welsh
within his lordship, gentle and simple, remained obedient to his rule
from fear and not from love. I need not trouble the reader with the
limitations of his territory, but merely remark that it bordered upon
that of Owen.
Now, upon the wild upland between the Dee valley and the watershed of
the Clwyd, lay the common of Croesau, whose disputed ownership
eventually set Wales and England by the ears. This strip of land had
originally belonged to Owen's estate of Glyndyfrdwy. Lord Grey,
however, in Richard the Second's time, had, in high-handed fashion,
appropriated it to himself on the sole and poor excuse that it marched
with his own domain. Glyndwr, being at that time probably no match for
Grey at the game of physical force, possessed his fiery soul in
patience, and carried the dispute in a peaceful and orderly manner to
the King's court in London. Here the justice of his claim was
recognised; he won his suit and Lord Grey was compelled to withdraw
his people from the disputed territory, cherishing, we may well
believe, an undying grudge against the Welshman who, before the eyes
of all the world and in an English court of justice, had got the
better of him.
Now, however, a new King was upon the throne, and Owen apparently out
of favour. The opportunity was too good an one to be missed by the
grasping Norman, who, driving Owen's people off the disputed
territory, annexed it once more to his own estate. Glyndwr
nevertheless, whatever the cause may have been, proved himself even
under this further provocation a law-abiding person, and, refraining
from all retaliation, carried his suit once more to London and laid it
before the Parliament which Henry summoned in the spring of 1400, six
months after he had seized the throne. But Owen, though he had been
esquire to the King, was now wholly out of favour, so much so as
greatly to support the tradition that he had served the unfortunate
Richard in a like capacity. His suit was not even accorded the
compliment of a hearing, but was dismissed with contemptuous brevity.
Trevor, Bishop of St. Asaph, who was then about the King's person and
deeply in his confidence, protested in vain against the unjust and
ill-advised course. As a Welshman, familiar with the condition of his
own country, he solemnly warned the authorities against provoking a
man who, though of only moderate estate, was so powerful and so
popular among his own people.
The Bishop's pleadings were of no avail. "What care we for the
barefooted rascals?" was the scornful reply. The Welsh were in fact
already in an electrical condition. In spite of their general
discontent with English rule, they had been attached to Richard, and
with that strength of personal loyalty which in a Celtic race so often
outweighs reason, they resented with heartfelt indignation the
usurpation of Bolingbroke. They were very far from sure that Richard
was even dead. If he were, then Henry had killed him, which made
matters worse. But if in truth he actually still lived, they were
inclined to murmur as loudly and with as much show of reason at his
dethronement. Richard, it will be remembered, after having been
compelled publicly and formally to abdicate the throne, had been
imprisoned for a time in the Tower, and then secretly conveyed from
castle to castle till he reached Pontefract, where he ended his
wretched life. The manner of his death remains to this day a mystery,
as has been intimated already. Whether he was murdered by Henry's
orders or whether his weakened constitution succumbed to sorrow and
confinement or bad treatment, no one will ever know. But his body, at
any rate, was brought to London and there exposed in St. Paul's
Cathedral for the space of three days, that all the world might see
that he was in truth dead. The men of Wales and the North and West of
England had to take all this on hearsay, and were readily persuaded
that some trickery had been played on the Londoners and that some
substitute for Richard had been exposed to their credulous gaze. For
years it was the policy of Henry's enemies to circulate reports that
Richard was still alive, and, as we shall see in due course, his ghost
was not actually laid till the battle of Shrewsbury had been fought
and won by Henry. Indeed, so late as 1406 the old Earl of
Northumberland alleged, in a letter, the possibility of his being
alive, while even seven years after this Sir John Oldcastle declared
he would never acknowledge Parliament so long as his master, King
Richard, still lived.
Glyndwr, after the insults that he had received in London, returned
home, as may well be conceived, not in the best of tempers; Grey,
however, was to perpetrate even a worse outrage upon him than that of
which he had already been guilty and of a still more treacherous
nature. It so happened that at this time the King was preparing for
that expedition against the Scots which started in July, 1400. Among
the nobility and gentry whom he summoned to his standard was Glyndwr,
and there is no reason to assume that the Welshman would have failed
to answer the call. The summons, however, was sent through Lord Grey,
in his capacity of chief Marcher in North Wales; and Grey, with
incredibly poor spite, kept Owen in ignorance of it till it was too
late for him either to join the King's army or to forward an
explanation. Glyndwr was on this account credited at Court with being
a malcontent and a rebel; and as there had been some brawling and
turbulence upon the Welsh border the future chieftain's name was
included among those whom it was Grey's duty, as it was his delight,
to punish. There is no evidence that Owen had stirred. It is possible
he might have made himself disagreeable to Grey upon the marches of
their respective properties. It would be strange if he had not. There
is no mention, however, of his name in the trifling racial
disturbances that were natural to so feverish a time.
It seems pretty evident that if the malicious Lord Marcher had rested
content with his plunder and let sleeping dogs lie, Owen, and
consequently Wales, would never have risen. This ill-advised baron,
however, was by no means content. He applied for further powers in a
letter which is now extant, and got leave to proceed in force against
Owen, among others, as a rebel, and to proclaim his estates, having an
eye, no doubt, to their convenient propinquity in the event of
confiscation.
But before Owen comes upon the scene, and during this same summer, a
most characteristic and entertaining correspondence was being carried
on between the irascible Lord Grey and a defiant gentleman of North
Wales, Griffith ap Dafydd ap Griffith, the "strengest thief in Wales,"
Grey calls him, which is to say that he accuses him of carrying off
some horses from his park at Ruthin. The letters, which are in Sir
Thomas Ellis's collection, are much too long to reproduce, but they
show unmistakably and not without humour, the relations which existed
between Lord Grey and some of his Welsh neighbours, who, already
turbulent, were later on to follow Glyndwr into the field of battle.
The King, before starting for Scotland and before getting Grey's
letters, had commanded his Lord Marchers to use conciliation to all
dissatisfied Welshmen and to offer free pardons to any who were openly
defying his authority.
Griffith ap Dafydd, it seems, had been prominent among these restive
souls, but under a promise, he declares in his letter, of being made
the Master Forester and "Keyshat" of Chirkeland under the King's
charter, he had presented himself at Oswestry and claimed both the
pardon and the office. In the last matter his claim was scouted,
according to his own account, with scandalous breach of faith, and
even his bodily safety did not seem wholly secure from the King's
friends. He narrates at some length the story of his wrongs, and tells
Grey that he has heard of his intention to burn and slay in whatever
country he [Griffith] is in. "Without doubt," he continues "as many
men as ye slay and as many houses as ye burn for my sake, as many will
I burn and slay for your sake," and "doute not that I will have bredde
and ale of the best that is in your Lordschip." There is something
delightfully inconsequent in Griffith's method of ending this
fire-breathing epistle: "Wretten in grete haste at the Park of
Brunkiffe the XIth day of June. I can no more, but God kepe your
Worschipful estate in prosperity."
Grey of Ruthin was filled with wrath at this impudence and replied to
the "strengest thief in Wales" at great length, reserving his true
sentiments, however, for the conclusion, where he bursts into rhyme:
"But we hoope we shall do thee a pryve thyng: A roope, a ladder and a
ring, heigh in a gallowes for to heng. And thus shall be your endyng.
And he that made the be ther to helpyng. And we on our behalf shall be
well willing for thy letter is knowlechyng."
It is quite evident that the Greys had not lived, aliens though they
were, in the land of bards for five generations for nothing. Full of
wrath, and by no means free from panic, Grey writes off in all haste
to the young Prince Henry, who is acting as regent during his father's
absence in the north. He encloses a duplicate of his answer to the
"strengest thief in Wales" and advises the Prince of the
"Misgovernance and riote which is beginning heer in the Marches of
North Wales." He begs for a fuller commission to act against the
rebels, one that will enable him to pursue and take them in the
"Kyng's ground"; in the counties, that is to say, where the King's
writ runs, and not merely in the lordships which covered what are now
the counties of Denbigh and Montgomery. "But worshipful and gracious
Lorde, ye most comaunden the Kynge's officers in every Cuntree to do
the same." Grey goes on to declare that there are many officers, some
in the King's shires, others in the lordships of Mortimer at Denbigh
and of Arundel at Dinas Brân and in Powysland, that are "kin unto
these men that be risen, and tyll ye putte these officers in better
governance this Countrie of North Wales shall nevere have peese." He
enclosed also the letter of the "strengest thief," and begs the Prince
to read it and judge for himself what sort of people he has to face.
He urges him to listen carefully to the full tidings that his poor
messenger and esquire Richard Donne will give him, and to take counsel
with the King for providing some more sufficient means of curbing the
turbulent Welshmen than he now has at his disposal. "Else trewly hitt
will be an unruly Cuntree within short time."
About the same time similar despatches to the Prince sitting in
Council were flying across Wales penned by one of the King's own
officers, the Chamberlain of Carnarvon. These informed the
authorities, among other things, that the Constable of Harlech had
trustworthy evidence of a certain Meredith ap Owen, under whose
protection it may be mentioned Griffith ap Dafydd, Grey's
correspondent, lived, being in secret negotiation with the men of the
outer isles ("owt yles") of Scotland, "through letters in and owt,"
that these Scottish Celts were to land suddenly at Abermaw (Barmouth),
and that Meredith had warned his friends to be in readiness with
horses and harness against the appointed time. It was also rumoured
from this same source upon the Merioneth coast that men were buying
and even stealing horses, and providing themselves with saddles,
bows, arrows, and armour. "Recheles men of divers Countries," too,
were assembling in desolate and wild places and meeting privily,
though their councils were still kept secret, and by these means the
young men of Wales were being greatly demoralised.
No special notice seems to have been taken of these urgent warnings by
those whom the King during his absence in the north had left to guard
his interests. Tumults and disturbances continued both in Wales and on
the Marches throughout the summer, but nothing in the shape of a
general rising took place till the luckless Grey, armed perhaps with
the fresh powers he had sought for, singled out Glyndwr again as the
object of his vengeance. Glyndwr had shown no signs as yet of giving
trouble. His name is not mentioned in the correspondence of this
summer, although he was the leading and most influential Welshman upon
the northern Marches. He or his people may have given Grey some
annoyance, or been individually troublesome along the boundaries of
the property of which he had robbed them. But the Lord Marcher in all
likelihood was merely following up his old grudge in singling out Owen
for his first operations, though it is possible that, having regard to
the latter's great influence and the seething state of Wales, he
thought it politic to remove a man who, smarting under a sense of
injustice, might recommend himself for every reason as a capable
leader to his countrymen. One would have supposed that the "strengest
thief in Wales" would have claimed Grey's first attention, but
Griffith ap Dafydd, who dates his letter from "Brunkiffe,"[7] a name
that baffles identification, was very likely out of ordinary reach.
However that may be, the Lord of Ruthin, collecting his forces and
joining them to those of his brother Marcher, Earl Talbot of Chirk,
moved so swiftly and unexpectedly upon Owen that he had only just time
to escape from his house and seek safety in the neighbouring woodlands
before it was surrounded by his enemies. Whether this notable
incident, so fraught with weighty consequences, took place upon the
Dee or the Cynllaeth--at Glyndyfrdwy, that is to say, or at
Sycherth--is uncertain; conjecture certainly favours the latter
supposition, since Sycherth was beyond a doubt the most important of
Owen's mansions, as well as his favourite residence. Nearly all
historians have hopelessly confounded these two places, which are
seven or eight miles apart as the crow flies and cut off from each
other by the intervening masses of the Berwyn Mountains. Seeing,
however, that Pennant, the Welshman of topographical and archeological
renown, falls into this curious mistake and never penetrated to the
real Sycherth or seemed aware of its existence, it is not surprising
that most English and even Welsh writers have followed suit.
[7] Possibly Brynkir near Criccieth.
It is of no importance to our story which of the two manors was the
scene of Owen's escape and his enemy's disappointment, but the attack
upon him filled the Welshman's cup of bitterness to the brim. It was
the last straw upon a load of foolish and wanton insult; and of a
truth it was an evil day for Grey of Ruthin, and for his master,
Henry, that saw this lion hunted from his lair; and an evil day
perhaps for Wales, for, though it gave her the hero she most
cherishes, it gave her at the same time a decade of utter misery and
clouded the whole of the fifteenth century with its disastrous
effects.
[Illustration: AN OLD STREET, SHREWSBURY.
Copyright
J. Bartlett.]
Henry was very anxious to conciliate the Welsh. Sore and angry as they
were at the deposition of their favourite, Richard, the desultory
lawlessness which smouldered on throughout the summer would to a
certainty have died out, or remained utterly impotent for serious
mischief, before the conciliatory mood of the King, had no leader for
the Welsh been found during his absence in the north. Henry had beyond
question abetted his council in their contemptuous treatment of his
old esquire's suit against Grey. But he may not unnaturally have had
some personal grievance himself against Owen as a sympathiser with
Richard; a soreness, moreover, which must have been still further
aggravated if the tradition of his taking service under the late King
be a true one. Of the attachment of the Welsh to Richard, and their
resentment at Henry's usurpation, we get an interesting glimpse from
an independent source in the manuscript of M. Creton, a French knight
who fought with Richard in Ireland and remained for some time after
his deposition at the English Court. He was present at the coronation
of young Prince Henry as Prince of Wales, which took place early in
this year. "Then arose Duke Henry," he says, "the King's eldest son,
who humbly knelt before him, and he made him Prince of Wales and gave
him the land. But I think he must conquer it if he will have it, for
in my opinion the Welsh would on no account allow him to be their
lord, for the sorrow, evil, and disgrace which the English together
with his father had brought on King Richard."
The Welsh had now found a leader indeed and a chief after their own
heart. Owen was forty-one, handsome, brave, and, as events were soon
to prove, as able as he was courageous. Above all, the blood of Powys
and of Llewelyn ab Iorwerth flowed in his veins. He was just the man,
not only to lead them but to arouse the enthusiasm and stir up the
long-crushed patriotism of an emotional and martial race. He seems to
have stept at once to the front, and to have been hailed with
acclamation by all the restless spirits that had been making the lives
of the Lord Marchers a burden to them throughout the summer, and a
host of others who had hitherto had no thought of a serious appeal to
arms. His standard, the ancient red dragon of Wales upon a white
ground, was raised either at, or in the neighbourhood of, his second
estate of Glyndyfrdwy, possibly at Corwen, where many valleys that
were populous even then draw together, and where the ancient British
camp of Caer Drewyn, lifted many hundred feet above the Dee, suggests
a rare post both for outlook, rendezvous, and defence. Hither flocked
the hardy mountaineers with their bows and spears, not "ragged
barefoots," as English historians, on the strength of a single word,
_nudepedibus_, used by an Englishman in London, have called them in
careless and offhand fashion, but men in great part well armed, as
became a people accustomed to war both at home and abroad, and well
clad, as became a peasantry who were as yet prosperous and had never
known domestic slavery. From the vales of Edeyrnion and Llangollen;
from the wild uplands, too, of Yale and Bryn Eglwys; from the fertile
banks of the Ceiriog and the sources of the Clwyd; and from the
farther shores of Bala Lake, where beneath the shadow of the Arans and
Arenig Fawr population clustered thick even in those distant days,
came pouring forth the tough and warlike sons of Wales. In the van of
all came the bards, carrying not only their harps but the bent bow,
symbol of war. It was to them, indeed, that Glyndwr owed in great
measure the swift and universal recognition that made him at once the
man of the hour. Of all classes of Welshmen the bardic orders were the
most passionately patriotic. For an hundred years their calling had
been a proscribed one. Prior to Edward the First's conquest a regular
tax, the "Cwmwrth," had been laid upon the people for their support.
Since then they had slunk about, if not, as is sometimes said, in
terror of their lives, yet dependent always for their support on
private charity and doles.
But no laws could have repressed song in Wales, and indeed this period
seems a singularly prolific one both in poets and minstrels. They
persuaded themselves that their deliverance from the Saxon grip was at
hand, and saw in the valiant figure of Owain of Glyndyfrdwy the
fulfilment of the ancient prophecies that a Welsh prince should once
again wear the crown of Britain. Glyndwr well knew that the sympathy
of the bards would prove to him a tower of strength, and he met them
more than half way. If he was not superstitious himself he understood
how to play upon the superstition and romantic nature of his
countrymen. The old prophecies were ransacked, portents were rife in
sea and sky. The most ordinary occurrences of nature were full of
significant meaning for Owen's followers and for all Welshmen at that
moment, whether they followed him or not; and in the month of August
Owen declared himself, and by an already formidable body of followers
was declared, "Prince of Wales." His friend and laureate, Iolo Goch,
was by his side and ready for the great occasion.
"Cambria's princely Eagle, hail,
Of Gryffydd Vychan's noble blood;
Thy high renown shall never fail,
Owain Glyndwr great and good,
Lord of Dwrdwy's fertile Vale,
Warlike high born Owain, hail!"
Glyndwr would hardly have been human if he had not made his first move
upon his relentless enemy, Lord Grey of Ruthin. There is no evidence
whether the latter was himself at home or not, but Owen fell upon the
little town on a Fair day and made a clean sweep of the stock and
valuables therein collected. Thence he passed eastwards, harrying and
burning the property of English settlers or English sympathisers.
Crossing the English border and spreading panic everywhere, he invaded
western Shropshire, capturing castles and burning houses and
threatening even Shrewsbury.
The King, who had effected nothing in the North, was pulled up sharply
by the grave news from Wales and prepared to hasten southwards. By
September 3rd he had retraced his steps as far as Durham, and passing
through Pontefract, Doncaster, and Leicester arrived at Northampton
about the 14th of the same month. Here fuller details reached him, and
he deemed it necessary to postpone the Parliament which he had
proposed to hold at Westminster in September, till the beginning of
the following year, 1401. From Northampton Henry issued summons to the
sheriffs of the midland and border counties that they were to join him
instantly with their levies, and that he was proceeding without delay
to quell the insurrection that had broken out in North Wales. He wrote
also to the people of Shrewsbury, warning them to be prepared against
all attacks, and to provide against the treachery of any Welshmen that
might be residing within the town. Then, moving rapidly forward and
taking his son, the young Prince Henry, with him, he reached
Shrewsbury about the 24th of the month.
Henry's crown had hitherto been a thorny one and he had derived but
little satisfaction from it. The previous winter had witnessed the
desperate plot from which he only saved himself by his rapid ride to
London from Windsor, and the subsequent capture and execution of the
Earls of Salisbury, Kent, and Huntington, who had been the
ringleaders. From his unsteady throne he saw both France and Scotland
awaiting only an opportune moment to strike him. The whole spring had
been passed in diplomatic endeavours to keep them quiet till he was
sure of his own subjects. Isabella, the daughter of the King of France
and child-widow of the late King Richard, had brought with her a
considerable dower, and the hope of getting a part of this back,
together with the young Queen herself, had kept the French quiet. But
Scotland, that ill-governed and turbulent country, had been chafing
under ten years of peace; and its people, or rather the restless
barons who governed them, were getting hungry for the plunder of their
richer neighbours in the South, and, refusing all terms, were already
crossing the border. Under ordinary circumstances an English king
might have left such matters in the hands of his northern nobles. But
it seemed desirable to Henry that he should, on the first occasion,
show both to the Scotch and his own people of what mettle he was made.
He was also angered at the lack of decent excuse for their
aggressions. So he hurried northward, as we have seen, and having
hurled the invaders back over the border as far as Edinburgh, he had
for lack of food just returned to Newcastle when the bad news from
Wales arrived. He was now at Shrewsbury, within striking distance, as
it seemed, of the Welsh rebels and their arch-leader, his old esquire,
Glyndwr. Neither Henry nor his soldiers knew anything of Welsh
campaigning or of Welsh tactics, for five generations had passed away
since Englishmen had marched and fought in that formidable country and
against their ancient and agile foes. Henry the Fourth, so far as we
can judge, regarded the task before him with a light heart. At any
rate he wasted some little time at Shrewsbury, making an example of
the first Welshman of importance and mischievous tendencies that fell
into his hands. This was one Grenowe ap Tudor, whose quarters, after
he had been executed with much ceremony, were sent to ornament the
gates of Bristol, Hereford, Ludlow, and Chester, respectively. The
King then moved into Wales with all his forces, thinking, no doubt, to
crush Glyndwr and his irregular levies in a short time and without
much difficulty. This was the first of his many luckless campaigns in
pursuit of his indomitable and wily foe, and perhaps it was the least
disastrous. For though he effected nothing against the Welsh troops
and did not even get a sight of them, he at least got out of the
country without feeling the prick of their spears, which is more than
can be said of almost any of his later ventures. His invasion of
Wales, in fact, upon this occasion was a promenade and is described as
such in contemporary records. He reached Anglesey without incident,
and there for the sake of example drove out the Minorite friars from
the Abbey of Llanfaes near Beaumaris, on the plea that they were
friends of Owen. The plea seems to have been a sound one, for the
Franciscans were without doubt the one order of the clergy that
favoured Welsh independence. But Henry, not content with this,
plundered their abbey, an inexcusable act, and one for which in after
years some restitution appears to have been made. Bad weather and lack
of supplies, as on all after occasions, proved the King's worst
enemies. Glyndwr and his people lay snug within the Snowdon mountains,
and by October 17th, Henry, having set free at Shrewsbury a few
prisoners he brought with him, was back at Worcester. Here he declared
the estates of Owen to be confiscated and bestowed them on his own
half-brother, Beaufort, Earl of Somerset. He little thought at that
time how many years would elapse before an English nobleman could
venture to take actual possession of Sycherth or Glyndyfrdwy.
Upon November 20th a general pardon was offered to all Welsh rebels
who would come in and report themselves at Shrewsbury or Chester, the
now notorious Owen always excepted, and on this occasion Griffith
Hanmer, his brother-in-law, and one of the famous Norman-Welsh family
of Pulestone had the honour of being fellow-outlaws with their chief.
Their lands also were confiscated and bestowed on two of the King's
friends. It is significant, however, of the anxiety regarding the
future which Glyndwr's movement had inspired, that the grantee of the
Hanmer estates, which all lay in Flint, was very glad to come to terms
with a member of the family and take a trifling annuity instead of the
doubtful privilege of residence and rent collecting. The castle of
Carnarvon was strongly garrisoned. Henry, Prince of Wales, then only
in his fourteenth year, was left at Chester with a suitable council
and full powers of exercising clemency toward all Welshmen lately in
arms, other than the three notable exceptions already mentioned, who
should petition for it. Few, however, if any, seem to have taken the
trouble to do even thus much. And in the meantime the King, still
holding the Welsh rebellion as of no great moment, spent the winter in
London entertaining the Greek Emperor and haggling with the King of
France about the return of the money paid to Richard as the dower of
his child-queen, Isabella, who was still detained in London as in some
sort a hostage.
Parliament sat early in 1401 and was by no means as confident as Henry
seemed to be regarding the state of Wales, a subject which formed the
chief burden of their debate. Even here, perhaps, the gravity of the
Welsh movement was not entirely realised; the authorities were angry
but scarcely alarmed; no one remembered the old Welsh wars or the
traditional defensive tactics of the Welsh, and the fact of Henry
having swept through the Principality unopposed gave rise to
misconceptions. There was no question, however, about their hostility
towards Wales, and in the early spring of this year the following
ordinances for the future government of the Principality were
published.
(1) All lords of castles in Wales were to have them properly secured
against assault on pain of forfeiture.
(2) No Welshman in future was to be a Justice, Chamberlain,
Chancellor, Seneschal, Receiver, Chief Forester, Sheriff, Escheator,
Constable of a castle, or Keeper of rolls or records. All these
offices were to be held by Englishmen, who were to reside at their
posts.
(3) The people of a district were to be held responsible for all
breaches of the peace in their neighbourhood and were to be answerable
in their own persons for all felons, robbers, and trespassers found
therein.
(4) All felons and evildoers were to be immediately handed over to
justice and might not be sheltered on any pretext by any lord in any
castle.
(5) The Welsh people were to be taxed and charged with the expense of
repairing and maintaining walls, gates, and castles in North Wales
when wilfully destroyed, and for refurnishing them and keeping them in
order, at the discretion of the owner, for a term not exceeding three
years, except under special orders from the King.
(6) No meetings of Welsh were to be held without the permission of the
chief officers of the lordship, who were to be held responsible for
any damage or riot that ensued.
The gifts called "Cwmwrth," too, exacted by collection for the
maintenance of the bards or minstrels, were strictly interdicted. Adam
of Usk, one of the few lay chroniclers of this period, was himself
present at the Parliament of 1401 and heard "many harsh things" to be
put in force against the Welsh: among others, "that they should not
marry with English, nor get them wealth, nor dwell in England." Also
that the men of the Marches "might use reprisals against Welshmen who
were their debtors or who had injured them," a truce for a week being
first granted to give them the opportunity of making amends.
[Illustration: CARCHARDY OWAIN, GLYNDWR'S PRISON HOUSE AT
LLANSANTFFRAID.
Copyright
Miss Walker.]
It was much easier, however, to issue commands and instructions
than to carry them out. The King seems to have felt this, and leant
strongly towards a greater show of clemency. But there was sufficient
panic in parts of England to override the royal scruples or common
sense, and so far as intentions went the Welsh were to be shown little
mercy.
Owen all this time had been lying quietly in the valley of the upper
Dee, preparing for still further endeavours. The short days and the
long nights of winter saw the constant passing to and fro of
innumerable sympathisers through the valleys and over the hills of
both North and South Wales, and a hundred harps, that had long been
faint or silent, were sounding high to the glories of the unforgotten
heroes of Old Wales. Mere hatred of Henry and tenderness for Richard's
memory were giving place to ancient dreams of Cambrian independence
and a fresh burst of hatred for the Saxon yoke. Owen, too strong now
to fear anything from isolated efforts of Lord Marchers, seems to have
held high festival at Glyndyfrdwy during the winter, and with the
assumption of princely rank to have kept up something of the nature of
princely state. With the exception of Grey to the north and the lords
of Chirk upon the east, it is probable that nearly everyone around him
was by now either his friend or in wholesome dread of his displeasure.
Shropshire was panic-stricken for the time. Hotspur was busy at
Denbigh, and Glyndwr, among his native hills, had it, no doubt, very
much his own way during the winter months, and made full use of them
to push forward his interests. His property, it will be remembered,
had been confiscated. But so far from anyone venturing to take
possession of Glyndyfrdwy, its halls, we are told, at this time rang
with revelry and song, while Owen, in the intervals of laying his
plans and organising his campaign for the ensuing summer, received the
homage of the bards who flocked from every part of the principality to
throw their potent influence into the scale. However much Glyndwr's
vanity and ambition may have been stirred by the enthusiasm which
surged around him, and the somewhat premature exultation that with
wild rhapsody hailed him as the restorer of Welsh independence, he
never for a moment lost sight of the stern issues he had to face, or
allowed himself to be flattered into overconfidence. Courage and
coolness, perseverance and sagacity, were his leading attributes. He
well knew that the enthusiasm of the bards was of vital consequence to
the first success of his undertaking. It is of little moment whether
he shared the superstitions of those who sang of the glorious destiny
for which fate had marked him or of those who listened to the singing.
It is not likely that a man who showed himself so able and so cool a
leader would fail to take full advantage of forces which at this early
stage were so supremely valuable.
He knew his countrymen and he knew the world, and when Wales was
quivering with excitement beneath the interpretation of ancient
prophecies bruited hither and thither and enlarged upon by poetic and
patriotic fancy, Glyndwr was certainly not the man to damp their
ardour by any display of criticism.
Already the great news from Wales had thrilled the heart of many a
Welshman poring over his books at the university, or following the
plough-tail over English fallows. They heard of friends and relatives
selling their stock to buy arms and harness, and in numbers that yet
more increased as the year advanced, began to steal home again, all
filled with a rekindled glow of patriotism that a hundred years of
union and, in their cases, long mingling with the Saxon had not
quenched. Oxford, particularly, sent many recruits to Owen, and this
is not surprising, seeing how combative was the Oxford student of that
time and how clannish his proclivities. Adam of Usk, who has told us a
good deal about Glyndwr's insurrection, was himself an undergraduate
some dozen years before it broke out, and has given us a brief and
vivid picture of the ferocious fights upon more or less racial lines,
in which the Welsh chronicler not only figured prominently himself,
but was an actual leader of his countrymen; "was indicted," he tells
us, "for felonious riot and narrowly escaped conviction, being tried
by a jury empanelled before a King's Judge. After this I feared the
King hitherto unknown to me and put hooks in my jaws." These
particular riots were so formidable that the scholars for the most
part, after several had been slain, departed to their respective
countries.
In the very next year, however, "Thomas Speke, Chaplain, with a
multitude of other malefactors, appointing captains among them, rose
up against the peace of the King and sought after all the Welshmen
abiding and studying in Oxford, shooting arrows after them in divers
streets and lanes as they went, crying out, 'War! war! war! Sle Sle
Sle the Welsh doggys and her whelpys; ho so looketh out of his house
he shall in good sooth be dead,' and certain persons they slew and
others they grievously wounded, and some of the Welshmen, who bowed
their knees to abjure the town," they led to the gates with certain
indignities not to be repeated to ears polite. We may also read the
names of the different halls which were broken into, and of Welsh
scholars who were robbed of their books and chattels, including in
some instances their harps.
It is not altogether surprising, therefore, that Welsh Oxonians should
have hailed the opportunity of Owen's rising to pay off old scores. We
have the names of some of those who joined him in an original paper,
in the Rolls of Parliament, which fully corroborates the notice of
this event; Howel Kethin (Gethin) "bachelor of law, duelling in
Myghell Hall, Oxenford," was one of them; "Maister Morres Stove, of
the College of Excestre," was another, while David Brith, John Lloid,
and several others are mentioned by name. One David Leget seems to
have been regarded as such an addition that Owen himself sent a
special summons that he "schuld com till hym and be his man." So
things in Wales went from bad to worse; Glyndwr's forces gaining
rapidly in strength and numbers, and actively preparing in various
quarters for the operations that marked the open season of 1401.
[Decoration]