Medieval Childhood in England:
The Case of William Marshal
Rebecca Slitt
King Stephen, depicted by Matthew Paris, 13th cen. Wikimedia Commons
The siege of Newbury Castle was going badly. King Stephen’s forces had attacked the southern English fortress more furiously every day, and the garrison had held them off for as long as they could. When the last of the garrison’s food ran out, those inside had no choice but to ask the king for a truce.
John Marshal, who commanded the castle’s troops, begged King Stephen to hold off the attack. The king agreed but in return, Stephen insisted that John give him a hostage as surety for his good behavior. John’s five-year-old son William was chosen as the hostage.
Stephen had been right to demand a hostage for John’s good behavior. As soon as the king withdrew his troops, John reinforced the castle, bringing in more archers and knights.
Enraged at the deception, Stephen sent a message to John, threatening to kill little William if John didn’t stop.
“I don’t care about the child,” John reportedly said, when he got the message. “I have the hammers and anvils to make even finer ones.”
John may have made the correct decision for a medieval warrior. He chose the success of the mission over his personal emotions. But it was the worst thing that a parent could ever say.
Fortunately, Stephen didn’t make good on his threat: little William wasn’t killed because of his father’s rebellion.
In fact, William Marshal went on to live for another 67 years after the siege of Newbury in 1152, becoming the friend of three kings, an advisor to two others, and a witness to the Magna Carta. He triumphed at more tournaments than even his admiring biographer could count; he started out with “not one strip of land to his name…just his chivalry” and ended up an earl with ten children of his own.
William’s experience as a hostage tells us a great deal about medieval childhood.
Much of what we know William Marshal’s life comes from his remarkable biography, written shortly after his death in 1223. Most biographies in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were written in scholarly Latin and told of the lives of kings, queens, and saints.
The History of William Marshal, on the other hand, is the biography of a knight – one of the earliest known – and it was written in Anglo-Norman, the dialect of French spoken by the nobility in England. It’s the story of a knight written for other knights, and for other members of the aristocracy; it’s full of details about tournaments, feasts, chivalric deeds, and everyday noble life. Scholars generally agree that the author knew William personally and received a lot of his information directly from the subject himself. The biographer’s narrative about William’s life probably reflects how William himself remembered his own story.
John Marshal, who commanded the castle’s troops, begged King Stephen to hold off the attack. The king agreed but in return, Stephen insisted that John give him a hostage as surety for his good behavior. John’s five-year-old son William was chosen as the hostage.
Stephen had been right to demand a hostage for John’s good behavior. As soon as the king withdrew his troops, John reinforced the castle, bringing in more archers and knights.
Enraged at the deception, Stephen sent a message to John, threatening to kill little William if John didn’t stop.
“I don’t care about the child,” John reportedly said, when he got the message. “I have the hammers and anvils to make even finer ones.”
John may have made the correct decision for a medieval warrior. He chose the success of the mission over his personal emotions. But it was the worst thing that a parent could ever say.
Fortunately, Stephen didn’t make good on his threat: little William wasn’t killed because of his father’s rebellion.
In fact, William Marshal went on to live for another 67 years after the siege of Newbury in 1152, becoming the friend of three kings, an advisor to two others, and a witness to the Magna Carta. He triumphed at more tournaments than even his admiring biographer could count; he started out with “not one strip of land to his name…just his chivalry” and ended up an earl with ten children of his own.
William’s experience as a hostage tells us a great deal about medieval childhood.
Much of what we know William Marshal’s life comes from his remarkable biography, written shortly after his death in 1223. Most biographies in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were written in scholarly Latin and told of the lives of kings, queens, and saints.
The History of William Marshal, on the other hand, is the biography of a knight – one of the earliest known – and it was written in Anglo-Norman, the dialect of French spoken by the nobility in England. It’s the story of a knight written for other knights, and for other members of the aristocracy; it’s full of details about tournaments, feasts, chivalric deeds, and everyday noble life. Scholars generally agree that the author knew William personally and received a lot of his information directly from the subject himself. The biographer’s narrative about William’s life probably reflects how William himself remembered his own story.
Medieval manuscripts show very young children in the care of women, c. 15th century, Creative Commons.
When William Marshal was born in 1147, England had been torn by civil war for almost ten years. The death of King Henry I had thrown the country into disarray. Because Henry had no legitimate sons to serve as his heir, his daughter Matilda and his nephew Stephen battled for control of the throne.
Throughout the war, John Marshal was one of Matilda’s most trusted knights. He was one of the toughest, too, as evidenced by a story that his son William remembered about him years later. Earlier in the war, John was cornered in a church after a battle, surrounded by enemies who threatened to burn the building down. When one of his friends suggested that maybe it would be a good time to surrender, John told him “If you utter just one word like that again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” John ended up losing an eye in the ensuing blaze, but he and his friend managed to escape – and they then walked twenty-five miles to the nearest friendly fortress.
Clearly, John would put up a tough front no matter what the threat, even it entailed an attack on his family.
William was the fourth of John Marshal’s eight children; his mother was Sybil of Salisbury.
Like most children of knightly and noble families, William probably spent most of his early childhood in his mother’s care. This was both because women were the primary caregivers for children in general and because John was off at war. Royal children would have seen their parents even less than William and his siblings saw theirs: royal life involved much more traveling than children could handle, so children were mostly left with nannies and wet-nurses. A family of the Marshals’ station would probably have servants to help, but the children spent a lot of time with their mother.
Later in their childhood, between the ages of 8 and 10, boys – and occasionally girls, too – of knightly and noble status would be sent away to live with another noble family for a few years in a custom called fostering. Sometimes the foster family would be related to the birth parents; William Marshal fostered with his cousin William of Tancarville. More often than not, though, foster parents were chosen for political rather than familial connections. The royal household was an especially prestigious place to foster; some royal households had upwards of 100 young men and women in their care.
Fostering helped young nobles make connections with other families while training them in the skills they would need as adult members of the aristocracy. Spending time with young people of a similar age and social class would – or so their parents hoped – strengthen the political bonds among the next generation of the nobility, and maybe even enable them to find a potential spouse.
Throughout the war, John Marshal was one of Matilda’s most trusted knights. He was one of the toughest, too, as evidenced by a story that his son William remembered about him years later. Earlier in the war, John was cornered in a church after a battle, surrounded by enemies who threatened to burn the building down. When one of his friends suggested that maybe it would be a good time to surrender, John told him “If you utter just one word like that again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” John ended up losing an eye in the ensuing blaze, but he and his friend managed to escape – and they then walked twenty-five miles to the nearest friendly fortress.
Clearly, John would put up a tough front no matter what the threat, even it entailed an attack on his family.
William was the fourth of John Marshal’s eight children; his mother was Sybil of Salisbury.
Like most children of knightly and noble families, William probably spent most of his early childhood in his mother’s care. This was both because women were the primary caregivers for children in general and because John was off at war. Royal children would have seen their parents even less than William and his siblings saw theirs: royal life involved much more traveling than children could handle, so children were mostly left with nannies and wet-nurses. A family of the Marshals’ station would probably have servants to help, but the children spent a lot of time with their mother.
Later in their childhood, between the ages of 8 and 10, boys – and occasionally girls, too – of knightly and noble status would be sent away to live with another noble family for a few years in a custom called fostering. Sometimes the foster family would be related to the birth parents; William Marshal fostered with his cousin William of Tancarville. More often than not, though, foster parents were chosen for political rather than familial connections. The royal household was an especially prestigious place to foster; some royal households had upwards of 100 young men and women in their care.
Fostering helped young nobles make connections with other families while training them in the skills they would need as adult members of the aristocracy. Spending time with young people of a similar age and social class would – or so their parents hoped – strengthen the political bonds among the next generation of the nobility, and maybe even enable them to find a potential spouse.
Squire holding his knight's horse, Wikimedia Commons.
Education differed for boys and girls. Nor surprising, girls learned household management, embroidery, and etiquette. Boys also learned etiquette, but in addition, they learned how to care for horses, weapons, and armor. Older boys were taught how to fight.
Fostering is one of the practices that have led some scholars to claim that medieval people didn’t love their children. They couldn’t risk getting attached – or so the reasoning goes – because there was such a high mortality rate among babies and children. Therefore, they closed themselves off, acted coldly, treated their children like adults or sent their children away.
This is, however, a great misconception. A wealth of evidence from medieval sources – and William Marshal’s story in particular – tells us otherwise. Medieval parents did love their children. They wanted to keep them safe, missed them when they were apart, and understood children’s need for play and affection – in short, they were just like modern parents.
William’s relationship with his mother appears to have been strong and loving. Throughout his childhood, every time William left home Sybil wept – “that was only natural,” says the biographer – and every time William returned home, she was happy. William showed just as great an attachment to her in return: he was always reluctant to leave her, and during his captivity, when he caught sight of a friend from home, he immediately asked after his mother.
The relationship between William and John was more complex: we’ve already seen that when William was threatened, John chose to put on a show of military bravado rather than rush to his son’s aid. Still, the way Stephen and his advisors negotiated with John Marshal shows at least the expectation that a father would love his children. Why would Stephen have asked for John’s son as a hostage if John was indifferent to the child?
When John Marshal went back on his word after the siege of Newbury, Stephen did try to use William as leverage. The king’s men even brought William up to the castle walls, threatening to send the little boy back to his father via a catapult. Next they threatened to crush the little boy on a ladder and finally they hung a millstone ominously over the wall. They never said exactly what they were going to do with the millstone, but it can’t have been good.
Fostering is one of the practices that have led some scholars to claim that medieval people didn’t love their children. They couldn’t risk getting attached – or so the reasoning goes – because there was such a high mortality rate among babies and children. Therefore, they closed themselves off, acted coldly, treated their children like adults or sent their children away.
This is, however, a great misconception. A wealth of evidence from medieval sources – and William Marshal’s story in particular – tells us otherwise. Medieval parents did love their children. They wanted to keep them safe, missed them when they were apart, and understood children’s need for play and affection – in short, they were just like modern parents.
William’s relationship with his mother appears to have been strong and loving. Throughout his childhood, every time William left home Sybil wept – “that was only natural,” says the biographer – and every time William returned home, she was happy. William showed just as great an attachment to her in return: he was always reluctant to leave her, and during his captivity, when he caught sight of a friend from home, he immediately asked after his mother.
The relationship between William and John was more complex: we’ve already seen that when William was threatened, John chose to put on a show of military bravado rather than rush to his son’s aid. Still, the way Stephen and his advisors negotiated with John Marshal shows at least the expectation that a father would love his children. Why would Stephen have asked for John’s son as a hostage if John was indifferent to the child?
When John Marshal went back on his word after the siege of Newbury, Stephen did try to use William as leverage. The king’s men even brought William up to the castle walls, threatening to send the little boy back to his father via a catapult. Next they threatened to crush the little boy on a ladder and finally they hung a millstone ominously over the wall. They never said exactly what they were going to do with the millstone, but it can’t have been good.
Matilda, depicted in a 15th c. History Of England, Creative Commons.
According to his biographer, William didn’t understand what was going on. Instead, he translated everything into the only terms he knew: games. The catapult looked like a swing; the millstone looked like a toy.
Finally, Stephen himself stepped in to stop the threats.
“Take him away!” the king ordered. “William, a toy like that would be no good at all for you…You’ll never die at my hands,” he promised him.
Accounts indicate that Stephen (who had a reputation for being good-natured in general) was utterly charmed by William, the son of his enemy. Stephen laughed at William’s childish perception of the world; he hugged William to comfort and protect him; he called him “dear little friend.” He even played games with the little boy. When William picked flowers from the castle courtyard and set them to “jousting” against each other, Stephen joined in, and William was thrilled to defeat the king.
William Marshal was a prisoner for two months, but during that time, he was under the king’s fond protection.
Eventually William was freed, and went back to his mother Sybil – who was overjoyed, his biographer tells us.
But the biographer makes no comment on how John felt after his son was freed. Although the text has plenty to say about William’s siblings, cousins, uncles, and, of course, his mother, it says very little about William’s relationship with his father. William and John Marshal are barely ever mentioned as being in the same place at the same time. Perhaps it was John’s tough and prickly personality that put up the wall between him and his son – he must have been a difficult person to get to know. Or, perhaps the pain of John’s rejection still lingered, even years after William found out that his father had chosen the war over his son.
Finally, Stephen himself stepped in to stop the threats.
“Take him away!” the king ordered. “William, a toy like that would be no good at all for you…You’ll never die at my hands,” he promised him.
Accounts indicate that Stephen (who had a reputation for being good-natured in general) was utterly charmed by William, the son of his enemy. Stephen laughed at William’s childish perception of the world; he hugged William to comfort and protect him; he called him “dear little friend.” He even played games with the little boy. When William picked flowers from the castle courtyard and set them to “jousting” against each other, Stephen joined in, and William was thrilled to defeat the king.
William Marshal was a prisoner for two months, but during that time, he was under the king’s fond protection.
Eventually William was freed, and went back to his mother Sybil – who was overjoyed, his biographer tells us.
But the biographer makes no comment on how John felt after his son was freed. Although the text has plenty to say about William’s siblings, cousins, uncles, and, of course, his mother, it says very little about William’s relationship with his father. William and John Marshal are barely ever mentioned as being in the same place at the same time. Perhaps it was John’s tough and prickly personality that put up the wall between him and his son – he must have been a difficult person to get to know. Or, perhaps the pain of John’s rejection still lingered, even years after William found out that his father had chosen the war over his son.
Tomb of William Marshal, London, Wikimedia Commons.
Love for children is a universal human emotion, without regard for time or place. Of course there will always be people who have more or less affection for children – variety in human emotions is universal, too. But William Marshal’s memories of his captivity and his biographer’s reconstruction of these events probably indicate that John Marshal’s betrayal hurt his son.
This account also helps us to understand the complexity of medieval families and attitudes about children. William’s mother’s joy at her son’s return indicates her affection for her son; and, conversely the brutal act of using a five year old as a hostage indicates that parents were believed to care for their children. And the kindness five-year-old William found from the least expected source – his father’s enemy, King Stephen--indicates that medieval people cared for and felt affection for children.
Further Reading:
History of William Marshal, Edited by A.J. Holden, translated by Susanna Gregory, notes by David Crouch. London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 2002-2006.
The most recent biography of William Marshal is David Crouch, William Marshal: Knighthood, War and Chivalry, 1147-1219 (London: Longman, 2002)
Rebecca Slitt received her Ph.D. in medieval history from Fordham University. Her academic work focuses on aristocratic culture and historical writing in twelfth-century England. She currently works for Choice of Games , editing and developing text-based interactive fiction games.
Homepage Image: Miniature for the entry etas "age" in the Omne Bonum encyclopedia (London, 14th century, BL Royal MS 6 E vii, fol. 67v) showing children playing with toys and catching butterflies, Wikimedia Commons.
This account also helps us to understand the complexity of medieval families and attitudes about children. William’s mother’s joy at her son’s return indicates her affection for her son; and, conversely the brutal act of using a five year old as a hostage indicates that parents were believed to care for their children. And the kindness five-year-old William found from the least expected source – his father’s enemy, King Stephen--indicates that medieval people cared for and felt affection for children.
Further Reading:
History of William Marshal, Edited by A.J. Holden, translated by Susanna Gregory, notes by David Crouch. London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 2002-2006.
The most recent biography of William Marshal is David Crouch, William Marshal: Knighthood, War and Chivalry, 1147-1219 (London: Longman, 2002)
Rebecca Slitt received her Ph.D. in medieval history from Fordham University. Her academic work focuses on aristocratic culture and historical writing in twelfth-century England. She currently works for Choice of Games , editing and developing text-based interactive fiction games.
Homepage Image: Miniature for the entry etas "age" in the Omne Bonum encyclopedia (London, 14th century, BL Royal MS 6 E vii, fol. 67v) showing children playing with toys and catching butterflies, Wikimedia Commons.
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