The law seems as yet, if we may so speak, unconscious of the fact that underneath or beside the hundredal soke a new soke is growing up. It seems to treat the soke over a man or over a piece of land as an indivisible thing that must ‘lie’ somewhere and can not be in two places at once. It has indeed to admit that while one lord has the soke, the king or another lord may have certain reserved and exalted ‘forfeitures,’ the three forfeitures or the four or the six, as the case may be[371]; but it has no classification of courts. The lord’s court, if it be not the court of an ancient hundred, is conceived as the court of a half-hundred, or of a quarter of a hundred[372], or as the court of a district that has been carved out from a hundred[373]. Thus Stigand had the soke of the half-hundred of Hersham, save Thorpe which belonged to St. Edmund, and Pulham which belonged to St. Etheldreda[374]; thus also the king had the soke of the half-hundred of Diss, except the land of St. Edmund, where he shared the soke with the saint, and except the lands of Wulfgæt and of Stigand[375]. But it is impossible to maintain this theory. The hundred is becoming full of manors, within each of which a lord is exercising or endeavouring to exercise a soke over all, or certain classes, of his men. It is possible that in Lincolnshire we see the beginnings of a differentiating process; we meet with the word frisoca, frigsoca, frigesoca. Whether this stands for ‘free soken,’ or, as seems more likely, for ‘frið soken,’ soke in matters relating to the peace, it seems to mark off one kind of soke from other kinds[376]. We have to remember that in later days the relation of the manorial to the hundredal courts is curious. In no accurate sense can we say that the court of the manor is below the court of the hundred. No appeal, no complaint of false judgment, lies from the one to the other; and yet, unless the manor enjoys some exceptional privilege, it is not extra-hundredal and its jurisdiction in personal causes is over-lapped by the jurisdiction of the hundred court: the two courts arise from different principles[377]. In Domesday Book the feudal or tenurial principle seems still struggling for recognition. Already the Norman lords are assuming a soke which their antecessores did not enjoy[378]. As will be seen below, they are enlarging and consolidating their manors and thereby rendering a manorial justice possible and profitable. Whether we ought to hold that the mere shock and jar of conquest and dispossession was sufficient to set up the process which covered our land with small courts, or whether we ought to hold that an element of foreign law worked the change, is a question that will never be answered unless the Norman archives have yet many secrets to tell. The great ‘honorial’ courts of later days may be French; still it is hardly in this region that we should look for much foreign law. It is in English words that the French baron of the Conqueror’s day must speak when he claims justiciary rights. But that the process was far from being complete in 1086 seems evident.
The seignorial court.
Many questions about the distribution and the constitution of the courts we must leave unsolved. Not only does our record tell us nothing of courts in unambiguous words, but it hardly has a word that will answer to our ‘court.’ The term curia is in use, but it seems always to signify a physical object, the lord’s house or the court-yard around it, never an institution, a tribunal[379]. Almost all that we are told is conveyed to us under the cover of such words as sake, soke, placita, forisfacturae. We know that the Bishop of Winchester has a court at Taunton, for his tenants are bound to come together thrice a year to hold his pleas without being summoned[380]. This phrase—‘to hold his pleas’—seems to tell us distinctly enough that the suitors are the doomsmen of the court. Then, again, we have the well-known story of what happened at Orwell in Cambridgeshire. In that village Count Roger had a small estate; he had land for a team and a half. This land had belonged to six sokemen. He had borrowed three of them from Picot the sheriff in order that they might hold his pleas, and having got them he refused to return them[381]. That the court that he wished to hold was a court merely for his land at Orwell is highly improbable, but he had other lands scattered about in the various villages of the Wetherly hundred, though in all his tenants amounted to but 14 villeins, 42 bordiers, 15 cottiers, and 4 serfs. We can not draw the inference that men of the class known as sokemen were necessary for the constitution of a court, for at the date of the survey there was no sokeman left in all Roger’s land in Cambridgeshire; the three that he borrowed from Picot had disappeared or were reckoned as villeins or worse. Still he held a court and that court had doomsmen. But we can not argue that every lord who had soke, or sake and soke, had a court of his own. It may be that in some cases he was satisfied with claiming the ‘forfeitures’ which his men incurred in the hundred courts. This is suggested to us by what we read of the earl’s third penny.
Soke and the earl’s third penny.
In the county court and in every hundred court that has not passed into private hands, the king is entitled to but two-thirds of the proceeds of justice and the earl gets the other third, except perhaps in certain exceptional cases in which the king has the whole profit of some specially royal plea. The soke in the hundred courts belongs to the king and the earl. And just as the king’s rights as the lord of a hundredal court become bound up with, and are let to farm with, some royal manor, so the earl’s third penny will be annexed to some comital manor. Thus the third penny of Dorsetshire was annexed to Earl Harold’s manor of Pireton[382], and the third penny of Warwickshire to Earl Edwin’s manor of Cote[383]. Harold had a manor in Herefordshire to which belonged the third penny of three hundreds[384]; Godwin had a manor in Hampshire to which belonged the third penny of six hundreds[385]; the third penny of three Devonian hundreds belonged to the manor of Blackpool[386]. Now, at least in some cases, the king could not by his grants deprive the earl of his right; the grantee of soke had to take it subject to the earl’s third penny. Thus for the shires of Derby and Nottingham we have a list of nineteen persons who were entitled to the king’s two-pence, but only three of them were entitled to the earl’s penny[387]. The monks of Battle declared that throughout many hundreds in Kent they were entitled to ‘the king’s two-pence’; the earl’s third penny belonged to Odo of Bayeux[388]. And so of certain ‘free men’ in Norfolk it is said that ‘their soke is in the hundred for the third penny[389].’ A man commits an offence; he incurs a wíte; two-thirds of it should go to his lord; one-third to the earl: in what court should he be tried? The answer that Domesday Book suggests by its silence is that this is a matter of indifference; it does not care to distinguish between the right to hold a court and the right to take the profits of justice. Just once the veil is raised for a moment. In Suffolk lies the hundred of Blything; its head is the vill of Blythburgh where there is a royal manor[390]. Within that hundred lies the considerable town of Dunwich, which Edric holds as a manor. Now in Dunwich the king has this custom that two or three men shall go to the hundred court if they be duly summoned, and if they make default they shall pay a fine of two ores, and if a thief be caught there he shall be judged there and corporeal justice shall be done in Blythburgh and the lord of Dunwich shall have the thief’s chattels. Apparently in this case the lord of Dunwich will see to the trying but not to the hanging of the thief; but, at any rate, a rare effort is here made to define how justice shall be done[391]. The rarity of such efforts is very significant. Of course Domesday Book is not a treatise on jurisdiction; still if there were other terms in use, we should not be for ever put off with the vague, undifferentiated soke. On the whole, we take it that the lord who enjoyed soke had a right to keep a court if he chose to do so, and that generally he did this, though he would be far from keeping a separate court for each of his little manors; but if his possessions were small he may have contented himself with attending the hundred court and claiming the fines incurred by his men. Sometimes a lord seems to have soke only over his own demesne lands[392]; in this case the wites that will come to him will be few. We may in later times see some curious compromises. If a thief is caught on the land of the Prior of Canterbury at Brook in Kent, the borhs-elder and frank-pledges of Brook are to take him to the court of the hundred of Wye, which belongs to the Abbot of Battle. Then, if he is not one of the Prior’s men, he will be judged by the hundred. But if he is the Prior’s man, then the bailiff of Brook will ‘crave the Prior’s court.’ The Prior’s folk will then go apart and judge the accused, a few of the hundredors going with them to act as assessors. If the tribunal thus constituted cannot agree, then once more the accused will be brought back into the hundred and will there be judged by the hundredors in common. In this instance we see that even in Henry II.’s day the Prior has not thoroughly extricated his court from the hundred moot[393].
Soke and house-peace.
It seems possible that a further hint as to the history of soke is given us by certain entries relating to the boroughs. It will already have become apparent that if there is soke over men, there is also soke over land: if men ‘render soke’ so also acres ‘render soke.’ We can see that a very elaborate web of rules is thus woven. One man strikes another. Before we can tell what the striker ought to pay and to whom he ought to pay it, we ought to know who had soke over the striker, over the stricken, over the spot where the blow was given, over the spot where the offender was attached or arrested or accused. ‘The men of Southwark testify that in King Edward’s time no one took toll on the strand or in the water-street save the king, and if any one in the act of committing an offence was there challenged, he paid the amends to the king, but if without being challenged he escaped under a man who had sake and soke, that man had the amends[394].’ Then we read how at Wallingford certain owners of houses enjoyed ‘the gafol of their houses, and blood, if blood was shed there and the man was received inside before he was challenged by the king’s reeve, except on Saturday, for then the king had the forfeiture on account of the market; and for adultery and larceny they had the forfeiture in their houses, but the other forfeitures were the king’s[395].’ We can not hope to recover the intricate rules which governed these affairs, rules which must have been as intricate as those of our ‘private international law.’ But the description of Wallingford tells us of householders who enjoy the ‘forfeitures’ which arise from crimes committed in their own houses, and a suspicion may cross our minds that the right to these forfeitures is not in its origin a purely jurisdictional or justiciary right. However, these householders are great people (the Bishop of Salisbury, the Abbot of St Albans are among them), their town houses are considered as appurtenant to their rural manors and the soke over the manor comprehends the town house. And so when we read how the twelve lawmen of Stamford had sake and soke within their houses and over their own men ‘save geld, and heriot, and corporeal forfeitures to the amount of 40 ores of silver and larceny’ we may be reading of rights which can properly be described as justiciary[396].
Soke in houses.
But a much more difficult case comes before us at Warwick[397]. We first hear of the town houses that are held by great men as parts of their manors, and then we hear that ‘besides these houses there are in the borough nineteen burgesses who have nineteen houses with sake and soke and all customs.’ Now we can not easily believe that the burgess’s house is a jurisdictional area, or that in exacting a mulct from one who commits a crime in that house the burgess will be playing the magistrate or exercising a right to do justice or take the profits of justice by virtue of a grant made to him by the king. Rather we are likely to see here a relic of the ancient ‘house-peace[398].’ If you commit an act of violence in a man’s house, whatever you may have to pay to the person whom you strike and to the king, you will also have to make amends to the owner of the house, even though he be but a ceorl or a boor, for you have broken his peace[399]. The right of the burgess to exact a mulct from one who has shed blood or committed adultery within his walls may in truth be a right of this kind, and yet, like other rights to other mulcts, it is now conceived as an emanation of sake and soke. If in the eleventh century we hear but little of this householder’s right, may this not be because the householder has surrendered it to his lord, or the lord has usurped it from the householder, and thus it has gone to swell the mass of the lord’s jurisdictional rights? At Broughton in Huntingdonshire the Abbot of Ramsey has a manor with some sokemen upon it ‘and these sokemen say that they used to have legerwite (fornication-fine), bloodwite and larceny up to fourpence, and above fourpence the Abbot had the forfeiture of larceny[400].’ Various interpretations may be set upon this difficult passage. We may fashion for ourselves a village court (though there are but ten sokemen) and suppose that the commune of sokemen enjoyed the smaller fines incurred by any of its members. But we are inclined to connect this entry with those relating to Wallingford and to Warwick and to believe that each sokeman has enjoyed a right to exact a sum of money for the breach of his peace. The law does not clearly mark off the right of the injured housefather from the right of the offended magistrate. How could it do so? If you commit an act of violence you must pay a wite to the king. Why so? Because you have wronged the king by breaking his peace and he requires ‘amends’ from you. With this thought in our minds we may now approach an obscure problem.
Vendible soke.