Throughout history, humans have tested the limits of their mortality, ranging from the dangerous and bold, to the outright idiotic. While historical knowledge of unusual deaths are often lost to time, there are a number of unlucky individuals whose deaths have been immortalised in a 14th century Coroner’s Roll from King’s Lynn.
Coroner’s Rolls are a type of document covering all instances of deaths that could be considered unusual, violent, or of otherwise non-natural causes. Much like the modern day postmortem, the rolls documented how and when the death occurred. Following the incident, a jury of witnesses and officials would be summoned to present relevant evidence and investigate any suspicious circumstances. All this information was recorded in the Coroner’s Rolls, written by a scribe in medieval Latin, as was standard for any official documents at the time. Because of its nature as a clerical document, it is written in a type of medieval secretary hand (similar to using modern shorthand) – something that can be incredibly difficult to interpret for modern readers.
The Coroner’s Roll in question (KL/C 14/1) dates from 1302 to 1305, covering all deaths of non-natural causes within the Borough of King’s Lynn. Many of the deaths recorded in this document are not particularly unusual, especially for an incredibly busy port with numerous amounts of visitors and boats passing through in a single year such as drowning after falling from a boat into the river. However, there are a few standout cases of individuals who found themselves coming to a rather sticky end.
Giles of Flanders
The most prominent case examines the death of a man by the name of Giles, hailing from the northern region of Belgium known as Flanders. Nothing else is known about him.
On the 17th of December in 1302, a boat selling Ely ale was docked in the port of Lynn, on what would have likely been a cold and dreary winter’s day. A conversation was happening on this boat, perhaps inconsequential for the most part, but its conclusion has ensured that it stood the test of time. Speaking to another man, Giles was boasting the supposed supreme quality of his aketon, a type of heavily padded jacket worn as a defensive garment. Giles claimed that his Flemish aketon ‘was better and more secure for defence than any made in England’.1
In order to prove this bold statement, Giles of Flanders took out his knife and proceeded to strike himself in the chest with it. Unsurprisingly, the knife pushed through the padded layers of his jacket, plunging into his skin and causing a wound from which he died.
The moral of the story? A padded jacket is not enough to stop a sharp knife.
Adam Oter
The second case from the Coroner’s Roll highlights the death of a man named Adam Oter. His death is the result of a heated argument at a local ball game.
While we don’t know the full extent of what caused the incident, the Coroner’s Roll tells us that Adam was playing a ball game with a man named John Godesbirth, written in the Latin as Iohannes. This occurred in the sands near Dowshill, the site of one of the original northern postern gates in King’s Lynn, so could have been on or near the Fisherfleet.2
During this ball game, the coroner’s report tells us that ‘a quarrel had arisen’ between the two men.3 Whatever this was about, whether foul-play or a mere misunderstanding, is not elaborated upon. During the argument, John Godesbirth drew a knife and stabbed Adam Oter in the side, of which he died at the scene.4 The coroner’s report does not cease here, and states that John – helped by his neighbours – fled to the nearby church of St Nicholas, where he stayed for nine whole days, before running away in the night.
The report ends on a mysterious note, acknowledge a raising of the ‘hue and cry’, a kind of medieval law enforcement where the locals would seek out criminals on the run.5 Despite acknowledging the instigation of a “justice-seeking mob”, whether John is brought to justice is not recorded. Thus, the quarrel ending Adam Oter’s life and the unresolved justice of his killer remains a mystery.
Henry Cook
When having a leisurely Sunday evening tryst with three ladies, it is perhaps reasonable to want to harm the person who barges in on you, no?
The unfortunate Henry Cook, the victim of this incident, seems to have died as a result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The coroner’s report tells us that Henry Cook was a servant to Etheldrede, the wife of a local lord, Philip de Fenne. The events are as follows: Henry goes to the house of another local lord, Sir William Howard, where he stumbles upon a certain Nicholas Wycke, accompanied by (or shall we say, occupied with) three ‘harlots’.6
The inquest names all three of these women: Beatrice Schalle of Norwich, Agnete Peper, and Isolde of Oxford. These women fled at the scene, and their identities remain partially obscured by their description, with the Latin word ‘meretricibus’ meaning potentially a more well-regarded courtesan, or the less well-regarded prostitute.
Their presence, whether as courtesan or prostitute, is perhaps the catalyst for the following events. An argument occurs between Henry and Nicholas, and then Nicholas chases him out of the house, following him down the road. For reasons unknown, Nicholas draws a knife and stabs Henry in the cheek. The coroner’s report tells us that Henry dies immediately from his peculiarly deadly cheek wound, and neither Nicholas nor his ‘courtesans’ could be found.
John Wyte
The last case of interest from this Coroner’s Roll follows the death of John Wyte. While there are no harlots, boats, or balls involved, it presents itself as perhaps the most mysterious case. It pertains to the actions of a man known as John Haghen who is described in the report as ‘estrensis’, a term referring to foreign nationals from Germany and beyond in the medieval period. In a port town with connections to Hanseatic trade, individuals hailing from mainland Europe such as John Haghen and Giles of Flanders were not uncommon.7
John Haghen is John Wyte’s murderer, for which he is described to have done with ‘premeditated malice’, but the reason is never given. The events occurred on the 18th of September 1302. In the middle of the day on a public street, John Haghen followed John Wyte, pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest and stomach. Unlike previous individuals, John Wyte is left to suffer a slow death, dying ‘the following night before the cock crowed’. Whether John Haghen intended for his victim to endure a slow, painful death, or instead meant to kill him at the scene but was unable to – is unknown.
Furthermore, it could be that maybe John Haghen regretted his actions, as he flees to a nearby church and stays there. He then takes an oath, one which is identified in medieval law as ‘abjuring the realm’, something someone would do when they had committed a crime and wanted to avoid trial or punishment, promising to leave the country and never return – a voluntary exile.8
John Haghen travels to Great Yarmouth, beginning his plans to escape the country. Whether he succeeded is not known, as Henry Wyte (presumably a relation of John Wyte’s) finds him, raising the hue and cry. How or if John Haghen was brought to justice is not revealed, but the coroner’s report does give us one incredibly important concluding detail – John Haghen’s cattle are valued at three shillings.9
Written by Erin Lintott
- ‘plus valebat et securior fuit ad defensionem quam nulla de fractura Anglia’ ↩︎
- https://www.heritage.norfolk.gov.uk/record-details?MNF72109-Site-of-Doucehill-Gate&Index=60813&RecordCount=64187&SessionID=b5ddbf09-d9f9-4bfe-a4c3-d96542f880fb ↩︎
- ‘sicut contencio mota fuisset inter eosdem’ ↩︎
- ‘de qua statim obit’ ↩︎
- levavit hutesium’ , see for more information: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/thirteenth-century-england-xvi/hue-and-cry-in-thirteenthcentury-england/B6C495E9D7BFACE7B66B5E12A5C7BA40 ↩︎
- ‘fuit cum tribus meretricibus’ ↩︎
- or more information on trade links, see this post: https://norfolkrecordofficeblog.org/2020/07/15/kings-lynns-trading-links-with-europe-kings-lynn-and-the-hansa/ ↩︎
- ‘abiuravit terram’ – abjure the land/realm ↩︎
- ‘Catalla felonis appreciator ad 3s’ ↩︎
Norfolk Record Office 