“Tenere totum hunc comitatum sibi et heredibus suis ita liberè ad gladium ut ipse Rex tenebat Angliæ coronam.”
Hugh Lupus had several barons to assist him in council. These were Nigel his cousin, Baron of Halton, Constable and Marshal of Chester; Sir Pierce Malbane, Baron of Nantwich; Robert FitzHugh, Baron of Malpas; Robert de Vernon, Baron of Shipbrook; Hamon Massey, Baron of Dunham; Walter de Pointon, Baron of Stockport; and Eustace Crew de Montalt, Baron of Hawarden.
The stark Earl was as good a Christian as he was a soldier. He sought the advice of the saintly Anselm, and sent for him from Normandy to Chester, and so brought to England its future Archbishop of Canterbury. By his counsel Earl Hugh converted the Nunnery of St. Werburgh into an Abbey, replacing the nuns by monks of the Benedictine Order. His Welsh neighbours caused endless trouble. He built a castle at Halton, and gave the barony to Nigel, on condition that he should be Constable of Chester, and by the service of leading the vanguard of the Earl’s army whenever he should march into Wales.
The history of Cheshire during the two centuries after the coming of the Normans is a record of the incursions of the Welsh, and of the continued attempts of the English to resist them. The country was reduced to a deplorable condition. The Welsh raided and ravaged the lands next their borders. English armies came to Cheshire, consumed the produce of the farms, and often burned the corn and killed the live-stock lest the Welsh should seek for plunder. Many of these raids find no place in history; only those are recorded which were attended by startling results. We can mention only a few of them. In 1093 they came, led by Griffith ap Conan, and made great slaughter. They fought a great battle at Nantwich during the rule of Hugh Lupus. In 1121 they made a raid and burned two castles, Shocklach and Malpas, celebrated for its bad road. In 1150 they came again, but were cut off on their return at Nantwich. King Henry II. in 1156 came with an army and encamped on Saltney Marsh. Ten years later he came by sea with an army to Chester, determining to crush the Welsh by invading their territory; but his heart failed him, and he abandoned the enterprise. In 1212 these terrible Welshmen took castles, killed the garrisons, burned several towns, and returned home rejoicing laden with plunder. King John marched to Chester determined to punish these outrageous folk who loved fighting, but he had certain troubles with his barons which need not be here chronicled; and being assured that if he marched against the foe he would be either assassinated or handed over to the tender mercies of the marauders, he preferred to hie him back to London. Matthew Paris, the old chronicler, tells us much about these terrible doings—how in 1245 Henry III. tried in vain to conquer them, and then caused a fearful famine in Cheshire by destroying all the corn and produce, including the salt pits, lest the Welsh should gain plunder; how again in 1256 the Welsh invaded the country and ravaged it to the very gates of the city, and by way of reminder repeated the process in the next year. Even the stark Prince Edward they defeated, and King Henry came himself with a mighty army to reduce them to order. He adopted the usual tactics of burning the provisions of the poor Cheshire farmers, and was thus hoist on his own petard, as his army could not find food, and the expedition was abandoned. Then James, Lord Audley, who on returning from abroad found his castles burnt and his retainers slaughtered, being mightily enraged, marched into Wales to slay these terrible folk. He killed many, but he might as well have tried to sweep back the waves that beat on the Wirral shore. The pertinacious foe only retaliated and attacked his lands again. And so the fight went on backwards and forwards, houses and castles being burnt, men and women slain, crops destroyed, until the whole county was reduced to a howling, desolate wilderness. The duel between Prince Llewellyn and Edward I. is well known. The King brought an army to Chester; the Prince sued for peace, and the expedition was abandoned. In 1274 the King summoned Llewellyn to a conference at Chester, which invitation the Prince, perhaps wisely, declined. Instead of coming to a conference, he made inroads and plundered the country. Then Edward in 1277 marched with a vast army to Chester. He cut great avenues through the forests, so as to protect his men from ambuscades. He marched into Wales in triumph. Llewellyn made his submission, but this did not prevent him from renewing his inroads four years later. At last he was killed in a skirmish by Lord Mortimer, and the land had rest. Edward gave to his infant son, born at Carnarvon, the title of Prince of Wales, and peace at length descended on the hills and vales of Cheshire which for two hundred years had been complete strangers to it.
Our chronicle of the Welsh wars and plunderings has carried us far afield, and we must hark back to the line of Earls who ruled over the harassed Palatinate. When Hugh Lupus died without issue, the Earldom descended to Ranulph Bohun, who married his sister, Margaret. He took for his arms three wheat sheaves or in a field azure, which are the present arms of the city. He was succeeded by his son, Hugh de Bohun, in 1152, who foolishly joined the rebellious Prince Henry against his father Henry II., and was sent a prisoner to Normandy. Ranulph III. succeeded, and earned the title of “the Good.” He founded several abbeys, fought in the Crusades, and drove the Dauphin Lewis out of England, who had come to depose King John.
During the Wars of the Barons against Henry III., a battle was fought between the Earl of Derby and a large force for the barons against the royal army led by William, Lord Zouche, David, brother to Llewellyn, and John, Lord Audley, when the Earl was victorious and Chester was captured in 1264. John, Earl of Chester, adopted a novel expedient to end the Welsh invasions. He married Helena, the daughter of Llewellyn, during an interval of peace in order to confirm it. But the lion and the lamb might as well have mated, and the wild turbulent Princess proved a strange bride. History records not the differences of that ill-assorted alliance. Perhaps he tried to tame her too severely. Perhaps he was but a faint-hearted Petruchio. At any rate she poisoned him, and, leaving no children, the King took the Earldom into his own hands and gave it to his eldest son, Prince Edward. When this Prince was captured by Simon de Montfort, he was forced to relinquish the Earldom as part of his ransom, but on the triumph of the King’s forces it reverted again to the Crown.
Richard II., in his troubles with the barons, chose a bodyguard of 2000 Cheshire men, so trusting was he in their loyalty and bravery. As a reward for their fidelity he made the county a Principality by Act of Parliament, styling himself Princeps Cestriæ, as we have already noticed. This honour the county did not long enjoy, as Henry of Lancaster revoked the Act. Not all the men of Cheshire were loyal to Richard, or were perhaps wearied of him. When the storm burst some of them, including Sir Richard and Sir John Legh, went over to Henry’s side. He came to Chester and raised an army there, and executed Sir Piers Legh, who had remained faithful to Richard. Soon the men of Chester saw the stern Duke of Lancaster marching into the city, and behind him rode their unfortunate King, a prisoner in the hands of one who knew no pity, and soon to be done to death at Pontefract Castle. Reports were circulated that Richard was still alive. In 1403 the Earl of Northumberland and Lord Percy, commonly called “Hotspur,” conspired against Henry IV. and ordered the news that Richard was living to be proclaimed throughout the county, stating that he could be seen at Chester Castle. The Cheshire men rallied to their old adherence, and readily joined the standard of the Northumbrian Earl. Every one knows the result of the fatal fight fought within sight of Chester walls, when most of the knights and squires, the flower of Cheshire chivalry, lay dead on the stricken field. Woeful was the day for Cheshire men. Henry captured the Baron of Kinderton and Sir Richard Vernon, and beheaded them. Even some who fought on the King’s side fell in battle, including Sir John Calveley and Sir John Massey. Moreover, the stern Henry was wroth against the county, and every man felt that his head was in jeopardy. But in the following year the King was pleased to pardon the county, and extracted a fine of 300 marks from the city.
The valour of Cheshire men has shone forth on many a battlefield. Look at that gallant feat of arms at the battle of Poictiers, when Lord Audley and his four Cheshire knights, Sir John Delves, Sir Thomas Dutton, Sir Robert Foulshurst, and Sir John Hawkstone won for themselves undying fame. Sir Piers Legh of Macclesfield, from whom are descended the Leighs of Lyme, had the lordship of that place granted to him for taking the Count of Tankerville prisoner. He was afterwards slain at Agincourt. But in our unhappy Civil Wars the good gentlemen of Cheshire were never a united body. They espoused different causes, ranged themselves under different banners, and so fought against each other and slew each other. It was so in Richard’s time. It was so at Blore Heath in 1459, when neighbour fought with neighbour and many fell, amongst whom were Sir Thomas Dutton, Sir John Done, Sir Hugh Venables, Sir Richard Molineux, Sir William Troutbeck, Sir John Legh of Booths, and Sir John Egerton. Thus does Drayton sing of this unhappy slaughter:—
“Then Dutton Dutton kills; and Done doth kill a Done;
A Booth a Booth; and Leigh by Leigh is overthrown;