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Image of two men in fifteenth-century armour fighting on foot with pollaxes. Leeds, Royal Armouries, MS PHIL 1, fol. 1r.IntroductionOne of the more iconic images of the Middle Ages, common innumerous aspects of popular culture, is that of two knightly champions engagedin the judicial combat of a trial by battle.[1]There is a particular example, however, from the middle of the fifteenthcentury, that can offer some insights into various aspects of martial culture andpreparation for judicial combats in late medieval English urban centres.[2]In London, during the autumn of 1446, a dispute arose not between two men atarms or knights, but rather an armourer’s apprentice, John Davy, and his master,William Catour. Davy had accused his master of ‘treson ymagined and doonayenste’ King Henry VI, and as the truth of the matter could not be determinedby conventional legal means, it was decided that it would be resolved in atrial by combat.[3]What would go on to happen in the fight was so unusual that it would even berecounted in William Shakespeare’s HenryVI, Part 2.Preparations for the CombatA particular aspect which separates this instance of trialby combat from others is in the details surrounding the preparations for the fight,such as those relating to some of the individuals appointed to train theappellant and defendant. Privy council records indicate that Philip Treher, MasterHugh Payne, and John Latimer were hired for the purpose of ‘teching certainpointes of armis’ to Davy and Catour (Treher was appointed to Davy, whilst theother two taught Catour). Whilst the names mean little by themselves, aparticularly striking detail is that Treher – appointed by the crown to preparea man to defend his own life – is described not as a professional master ofarms, but as ‘Philip Treher fyshmonger’.[4]The answers as to where, when, and how Philip Treher acquired his skill at armsremain unknowable, but there is plenty of evidence demonstrating a widespreadpractice of martial arts amongst the lower classes in late medieval andRenaissance London from coroners’ rolls, legal statutes, and even the records ofthe sixteenth-century fencing organisation the Company of Masters of Defence.[5]Whilst no account of how Davy was trained by Treher, the 1448 Fechtbuch of a German fencing master,Hans Talhoffer, prescribes that combatants involved in a judicial duel shouldtrain by means of physical activities (he mentions stone and javelin throwing),ritualised processes (regular shaving, praying, and anointing), and engaging inpleasant pursuits (for example listening to music, bathing, and hunting). Talhofferfurther states that the combatant should train, in secret, for two hours in themorning and two after noon.[6]Trial by BattleOn the morning of the combat, both men donned their armour,made their peace with God, and prepared to fight for their lives. There was, however,one crucial difference in their final preparations which would have a dramaticimpact on the outcome. In order to calm Catour’s (understandably) nervousdisposition, his friends had plied him with ‘so moch wyne and good ale, that hewas therwith distemperyd’.[7]Having imbibed too much alcohol he was soon in no condition to produce acompetent defence. Whilst there is no detailed narrative of the fight, thereare other examples of judicial duels fought in the same location, Smithfield,for which descriptions survive that can show what such combats were like.[8]For example, one fight between John Annesley and Thomas Catteron in 1380finished with Catterton unable to continue the fight (and summarily executed)as a result of the heat, weight of his harness, and energy he had expendedwhilst wrestling on the ground.[9]An even more gruesome end punctuated the resolution of a desperate encounterbetween Thomas Whytehorne and James Fyscher. This fight, which happened almosta decade after the one between Davy and Catour, witnessed how Whytehorne ‘castethat meke innocent (Fyscher) downe to the grownde and bote hym by the membrys’,that is to say his genitalia. Fyscher responded by biting his opponent’s noseand gouging out his eyes.[10]Given the bloody nature of these fights, it is not difficult to envision howhorribly Catour must have been ‘ouercomyn and slayne’ by his former apprentice.[11]His loss in the combat proved the truth of the case, and it was thus determinedthat he was the traitor that he had been accused of being. The chronicler WilliamGregory relates that ‘the mayster was slayne and dyspoylde owte of hys harnys,and lay stylle in the fylde alle that day and that nyght next folowynge. Andthenne afty[r]ward, by the kyngys commaundement, he was d[r]awyn, hanggyde, andbe-heddyde, and hys hedde sette on London Brygge, and the body hynggyng a-boveerthe be-syde the towre’.[12]As for Philip Treher, the fishmonger and part-time fencingmaster who had educated the victorious Davy, he was clearly considered to be aninstructor of some ability: he had already been employed in 1446 on the samegrounds to teach Thomas fitz-Thomas, the Hospitaller prior of Kilmainham Abbey,pertaining to a suit he had brought against the Earl of Ormonde, and was hired againin 1453 for a case involving John Lyalton and Robert Norreys.[13]These other cases allow us to build a more complete image of Treher as afencer: Lyalton and Norreys, for example, were to fight with glaives, shortswords, daggers, and axes (instead of longswords), indicating some of theweapons with which Treher was likely proficient.[14]Nor was Treher paid poorly for this work: he was compensated with £20 forteaching Davy and the prior, approximately the equivalent value of either fiftycows, six hundred and sixty six days of wages for a skilled labourer, or£12,488.10 in today’s terms.[15]ConclusionUltimately, the story of Davy and Catour offers a small butvaluable insight into late medieval urban martial culture in England. It is avaluable reminder that judicial combats (and martial prowess), despite theirmodern chivalric depictions, were not solely within the purview of knighthoodand the nobility. Given the limited details available for fencing masters knownto have existed in fifteenth-century England, it also serves as an importantinsight as to what their careers could look like and how they could expect tobe paid, although a contact with the crown was likely much more financiallyrewarding than a fencing master could expect from clients. A final word, however, should be given to events which tookplace some time after the execution of William Catour. Although found guilty inthe trial, two later sources – Fabyan’s chronicle, and the later retelling ofthe narrative by Shakespeare – both imply that Catour was innocent, and hadbeen accused maliciously. In Henry VI.Part 2 his character (renamed to Thomas Horner), exclaims that he is‘falsely accused by the villain’ as revenge for striking him.[16]Given the fate of Davy, this may have been true. This judicial combat was notto be John Davy’s final run in with the law: he himself was eventuallysentenced to death by hanging for committing an unnamed felony, raising allsorts of questions about the veracity of the claims that he had brought againstthe man who had one been his own master and teacher.[17]Acknowledgements: Thank you to Dr Karen Watts and Messrs Samuel Bradley and Iain Dyson for their thoughts.[cite][1] For an overview of singlecombat in modern media and its link to historical sources, see Jacob HenryDeacon, ‘La Posta di Falcone and La Porta di Ferro: Depictions of Combat inMedieval and Modern Media’, in The MiddleAges in Modern Culture: History and Authenticity in Contemporary Medievalism,ed. by Robert Houghton and Karl Alvestad (London: I. B Taurus, forthcoming).[2] For trial by combat in latemedieval England see Ariella Elema, ‘Trial by Battle in France and England’(unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Toronto, 2012).[3] Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,ed. by Harris Nicolas (London: G. Eyre and A. Spottiswoode, 1837), p. 56.[4] Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,p. 59.[5] For the records of theCompany of Masters, see London, British Library, MS Sloane 2530. Atranscription of the manuscript has been published, see Herbert Berry, The Noble Science: A Study and Transcriptionof Sloane Ms. 2530, Papers of the Masters of Defence of London, Temp. HenryVIII to 1590 (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1991).[6] For an analysis ofTalhoffer’s approach to trial by combat, see Daniel Jaquet, ‘Six Weeks toPrepare for Combat: Instruction and Practices from the Fight Books at the Endof the Middle Ages, a Note on Ritualised Single Combats’, in Killing and Being Killed: Bodies in Battle.Perspectives on Fighters in the Middle Ages, ed. by Jörg Rogge (Bielefeld:Transcript Verlag, 2017), pp. 131-64.[7] Robert Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France,ed. by Henry Ellis (London: F. C. &#38; J. Rivington, 1811) p. 618.[8] Smithfield was one of themost important centres of martial activity in medieval England. It was used notonly for staging judicial combats, but also jousts and other tournamentactivity. For a summary of such formal combats see Rachel Whitbread, ‘Tournaments,Jousts and Duels: Formal Combats in England and France, circa 1380-1440’(unpublished doctoral thesis, University of York, 2013).[9] Thomas Walsingham, The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham,1376-1422, trans. by David Preest (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2005), pp. 105-06.[10] The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the FifteenthCentury, ed. by James Gairdner (London: Camden Society, 1876) pp. 199-202.[11] Fabyan, The New Chronicles, p. 618.[12] The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London, p. 187.[13] Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,pp. 57-59 and p. 129.[14] Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,p. 129.[15] Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6;Figures calculated with The National Archives’ currency converter, online:&#60;http: http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter&#62; (accessed 03/09/2019).[16] William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 2, 1.3.192-94.[17] Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France, p. 618.