I must not forget to state, that Guarine De Metz was a great benefactor to the Monks: one remarkable instance of which is this; after a conflict he had with the Welsh, led by their prince Jorwerth, (in which action the latter was discomfited with all his host) our hero founded the New Abbey, better known by the name of Alberbury.
The posterity of this great man for nine generations assumed the Christian name of Fulk; they continued possessed of the castle from the end of the reign of Henry I. till the time of Henry VIII. a period of near four hundred years. Their common name was Fitz-Gwarine. Mr. Dovaston in his poem, thus expresses himself on this subject:
“Sires were his from days of yore,
Who all the same distinction bore
Of title and of name;
A name that valour’s blazon’d blade
In feats of chivalry had made
The favourite of fame.”
Guarine De Metz died in the reign of Henry I. at Alberbury, where he was interred; his wife and his son Fulk Fitz-Gwarine being present on the occasion.
We have mentioned that Guarine De Metz first exerted his valour in the cause of love, and that great commendation was bestowed on him in consequence; this was exactly the case with his son; he became desperately enamoured with Hawys, daughter of Sir Joos, of Normandy, who had been appointed guardian of the hero in question. Fitz-Gwarine observing Hawys to be frequently in great sorrow, desired to know the cause of it, and was informed that it proceeded from the dangerous situation of her father, being at that time in the hands of Walter Lacy and Sir Arnold de Lis, two of his inveterate enemies. Upon hearing this, Fulk resolved to rescue him, and being supplicated by her whom he adored, he set off immediately and arrived in time just to save the head of Joos from the fatal stroke that would instantly have severed it from the body. The consequences were, Lacy and Arnold were taken prisoners and confined in Ludlow castle; Joos was snatched from the most perilous situation to a most happy one; and to crown all, Fulk and Hawys were joined together, and harmony again reigned in both families.
A.D. 1122.
Fulk Fitz-Gwarine acted the hero in all his enterprizes with such vigour, capacity, and celerity, that Henry I. knighted him, made him steward of his house, and conferred on him the arduous office of Lieutenant of the Marches; it was this that gave him the name of Fulco or Fulk, signifying Lieutenant. In this department his sword did not long remain undrawn; the Cambrian Prince, Gryffydd ap Cynan, according to the general practice of his countrymen, made a descent upon the lordship of Whittington, and the surrounding country. These incursions were made so frequently, and attended with such pernicious effects, that the power of the Lords’ Marchers was often necessary to repel their progress: indeed this was their sole office, and a very useful one it was. In the present case, Fitz-Gwarine nobly conducted himself, by wounding the Welsh king in the shoulder, and completely routing his army. The Welsh however returned soon after, drove Fulk from the Castle of Whittington, and gained possession of the lordship; and it appears from a peace made by Henry II. with Owen Gwynedd, the succeeding prince of Wales, that it was kept by the latter, and bestowed on one of his favourites, of the name of Roger; Fulk had the manor of Alston, in Gloucestershire as a recompence.
It is recorded that Fulk Fitz-Gwarine, and John son to Henry II. afterwards King John, were playing at chess together, when it happened that they disagreed, and the prince gave Fulk a severe blow upon the head with the board, which the latter returned in such a violent manner, as almost to kill the young prince; a circumstance, had it happened, not much to be regretted, were it not in consideration of the glorious Magna Charta afterwards obtained from him.
Mr. Dovaston in speaking of the noble actions of Fitz-Gwarine, mentions Fulk and John’s quarrel in the following manner:
“Enough to name our last affray,
The prince his temper lost at play,
The chess-board swung with coward sway
And hurl’d my head upon.
Ill could the wrong my bosom brook,
I sent him first a furious look,
Then firm with knuckles clench’d I strook
The pate of royal John.”