Perhaps it was this lawlessness that explains Henley’s absence from the Domesday Book. One can easily imagine that the King’s surveyors, fearing for their safety, chose to omit the settlement rather than risk a fatal encounter in such a perilous landscape.Youngsters like Aeginn, pictured left, who had grown up in this lawless age, were drawn into a more structured and Christianised way of life under Norman rule. The French invaders brought a measure of order, distracting the locals with pastimes such as boules, frog-baiting, the consumption of sunflowers, and clay-court tennis—attempts, no doubt, to pacify their more unruly tendencies. Eventually, these former outlaws abandoned their ways and established themselves in what would later be known as Henley, many re-emerging in more respectable roles as bankers, estate agents, and solicitors.Despite Henley’s exclusion from the Domesday Book, the newly established Norman monarchy took eventual notice of the area. The unfortunate baron assigned to oversee this wild outpost lamented the lack of suitable accommodation and, tiring of rustic living, petitioned for a fortress. His persistence paid off when King Henry II, or more precisely, his formidable mother, Empress Matilda, granted permission for Thurstan de Montfort to construct a castle in the early twelfth century.
Perhaps it was this lawlessness that explains Henley’s absence from the Domesday Book. One can easily imagine that the King’s surveyors, fearing for their safety, chose to omit the settlement rather than risk a fatal encounter in such a perilous landscape.
Youngsters like Aeginn, pictured left, who had grown up in this lawless age, were drawn into a more structured and Christianised way of life under Norman rule. The French invaders brought a measure of order, distracting the locals with pastimes such as boules, frog-baiting, the consumption of sunflowers, and clay-court tennis—attempts, no doubt, to pacify their more unruly tendencies. Eventually, these former outlaws abandoned their ways and established themselves in what would later be known as Henley, many re-emerging in more respectable roles as bankers, estate agents, and solicitors.
Despite Henley’s exclusion from the Domesday Book, the newly established Norman monarchy took eventual notice of the area. The unfortunate baron assigned to oversee this wild outpost lamented the lack of suitable accommodation and, tiring of rustic living, petitioned for a fortress. His persistence paid off when King Henry II, or more precisely, his formidable mother, Empress Matilda, granted permission for Thurstan de Montfort to construct a castle in the early twelfth century.
H e n l e y T i m e l i n e
H e n l e y T i m e l i n e
The chosen site—a prominent rise now known as The Mount—offered a commanding vantage point over the fledgling settlement. Today, visitors to the site can discern the remnants of the defensive ditch that once encircled the Keep. The wooden steps installed by Time Team in 2001 mark the approximate location of the former drawbridge, providing a glimpse into the castle’s original structure.
Rather than recount the details of its construction at length, those interested can watch Time Team’s exploration of the site on BBC iPlayer. Alternatively, for those without access to the internet, a visit to the Henley Heritage Centre, conveniently located next to Henley Ices, offers a chance to view artefacts uncovered during the excavation led by Tony Robinson and his team.
The castle’s completion was met with celebration—revelry, cheering, and the generous consumption of mead, as the locals took comfort in the presence of this imposing stronghold. The Normans named it Beaudesert—“Beautiful Waste”—a title that, while intended to evoke grandeur, may have been received with some scepticism by those living in its shadow. Over time, the name was anglicised to "Beedessit", a playful nod to Norman rule, a pronunciation still favoured by a few older, staunchly traditional residents today.
The town received further royal recognition in 1140, when Matilda granted Thurstan de Montfort the right to hold a weekly market on Sundays—an officially sanctioned enterprise, as evidenced by a Royal decree:
The chosen site—a prominent rise now known as The Mount—offered a commanding vantage point over the fledgling settlement. Today, visitors to the site can discern the remnants of the defensive ditch that once encircled the Keep. The wooden steps installed by Time Team in 2001 mark the approximate location of the former drawbridge, providing a glimpse into the castle’s original structure.
Rather than recount the details of its construction at length, those interested can watch Time Team’s exploration of the site on BBC iPlayer. Alternatively, for those without access to the internet, a visit to the Henley Heritage Centre, conveniently located next to Henley Ices, offers a chance to view artefacts uncovered during the excavation led by Tony Robinson and his team.
The castle’s completion was met with celebration—revelry, cheering, and the generous consumption of mead, as the locals took comfort in the presence of this imposing stronghold. The Normans named it Beaudesert—“Beautiful Waste”—a title that, while intended to evoke grandeur, may have been received with some scepticism by those living in its shadow. Over time, the name was anglicised to "Beedessit", a playful nod to Norman rule, a pronunciation still favoured by a few older, staunchly traditional residents today.
The town received further royal recognition in 1140, when Matilda granted Thurstan de Montfort the right to hold a weekly market on Sundays—an officially sanctioned enterprise, as evidenced by a Royal decree:
Rather than recount the details of its construction at length, those interested can watch Time Team’s exploration of the site on BBC iPlayer. Alternatively, for those without access to the internet, a visit to the Henley Heritage Centre, conveniently located next to Henley Ices, offers a chance to view artefacts uncovered during the excavation led by Tony Robinson and his team.
The castle’s completion was met with celebration—revelry, cheering, and the generous consumption of mead, as the locals took comfort in the presence of this imposing stronghold. The Normans named it Beaudesert—“Beautiful Waste”—a title that, while intended to evoke grandeur, may have been received with some scepticism by those living in its shadow. Over time, the name was anglicised to "Beedessit", a playful nod to Norman rule, a pronunciation still favoured by a few older, staunchly traditional residents today.
The town received further royal recognition in 1140, when Matilda granted Thurstan de Montfort the right to hold a weekly market on Sundays—an officially sanctioned enterprise, as evidenced by a Royal decree:
Next Time- the De Montfort's
Next Time- the De Montfort's
John Hannett - 1880
Quoting from the authoritative tome that, in my view, serves as the definitive blueprint, benchmark, and reference for all things Arden, a late nineteenth-century writer described Henley as follows:
“Presuming the Traveller to have reached the old hostelry of the Swan, at Henley in Arden, it will now be desirable to commence a description of that town, to enter upon an inspection of its chapel, and to inquire of its other objects of interest.”
That writer was John Hannett, who’s grave can be found in St Nicholas churchyard. In more recent times, William Cooper, Charles Welham, Johnathan Dovey, and Dr. Douglas Bridgewater have pursued such inquiries with dedication and scholarly focus. I now join their ranks, committed to preserving this rich historical tapestry by enshrining its narrative in the digital realm. Here, on this platform, I invite you to listen to the echoes of our remarkable town.
Had it not been by the intervention of our French neighbours around 1100AD, things may well have stayed as they were, but on balance, the Normans brought culture to this wild settlement.
John Hannett - 1880
Quoting from the authoritative tome that, in my view, serves as the definitive blueprint, benchmark, and reference for all things Arden, a late nineteenth-century writer described Henley as follows:
“Presuming the Traveller to have reached the old hostelry of the Swan, at Henley in Arden, it will now be desirable to commence a description of that town, to enter upon an inspection of its chapel, and to inquire of its other objects of interest.”
That writer was John Hannett, who’s grave can be found in St Nicholas churchyard. In more recent times, William Cooper, Charles Welham, Johnathan Dovey, and Dr. Douglas Bridgewater have pursued such inquiries with dedication and scholarly focus. I now join their ranks, committed to preserving this rich historical tapestry by enshrining its narrative in the digital realm. Here, on this platform, I invite you to listen to the echoes of our remarkable town.
Had it not been by the intervention of our French neighbours around 1100AD, things may well have stayed as they were, but on balance, the Normans brought culture to this wild settlement.
Quoting from the authoritative tome that, in my view, serves as the definitive blueprint, benchmark, and reference for all things Arden, a late nineteenth-century writer described Henley as follows:
“Presuming the Traveller to have reached the old hostelry of the Swan, at Henley in Arden, it will now be desirable to commence a description of that town, to enter upon an inspection of its chapel, and to inquire of its other objects of interest.”
That writer was John Hannett, who’s grave can be found in St Nicholas churchyard. In more recent times, William Cooper, Charles Welham, Johnathan Dovey, and Dr. Douglas Bridgewater have pursued such inquiries with dedication and scholarly focus. I now join their ranks, committed to preserving this rich historical tapestry by enshrining its narrative in the digital realm. Here, on this platform, I invite you to listen to the echoes of our remarkable town.
Had it not been by the intervention of our French neighbours around 1100AD, things may well have stayed as they were, but on balance, the Normans brought culture to this wild settlement.
The Kingdom of Hwicce
Forbidding, murky, and perilous...
Such was Henley nine hundred years ago—a small, unremarkable settlement, little more than a muddy, grassy clearing flanking a primitive track known as Feldon Street. This rudimentary path meandered through the dense Forest of Arden, linking Stratford-upon-Avon with Birmingham.
Before the Norman Conquest—before the arrival of the French—the area bore some resemblance to Tolkien’s Mirkwood, though instead of giant spiders, it was home to the Stoppingas, a South Anglian tribe. Part of the Kingdom of Hwicce, these early inhabitants dwelled in structures of wood, mud, straw, and horsehair—primitive dwellings not unlike some of today’s High Street cottages, though notably without the £500,000 price tag.
Straying from the main track into the depths of the Arden Forest was a perilous choice, as unwary travellers risked an encounter with the Stoppingas, who had little hesitation in relieving passersby of their belongings. A lingering testament to this treacherous past can still be found north of the town in the aptly named Cut Throat Lane.
The Kingdom of Hwicce
Forbidding, murky, and perilous...
Such was Henley nine hundred years ago—a small, unremarkable settlement, little more than a muddy, grassy clearing flanking a primitive track known as Feldon Street. This rudimentary path meandered through the dense Forest of Arden, linking Stratford-upon-Avon with Birmingham.
Before the Norman Conquest—before the arrival of the French—the area bore some resemblance to Tolkien’s Mirkwood, though instead of giant spiders, it was home to the Stoppingas, a South Anglian tribe. Part of the Kingdom of Hwicce, these early inhabitants dwelled in structures of wood, mud, straw, and horsehair—primitive dwellings not unlike some of today’s High Street cottages, though notably without the £500,000 price tag.
Straying from the main track into the depths of the Arden Forest was a perilous choice, as unwary travellers risked an encounter with the Stoppingas, who had little hesitation in relieving passersby of their belongings. A lingering testament to this treacherous past can still be found north of the town in the aptly named Cut Throat Lane.
Forbidding, murky, and perilous...
Such was Henley nine hundred years ago—a small, unremarkable settlement, little more than a muddy, grassy clearing flanking a primitive track known as Feldon Street. This rudimentary path meandered through the dense Forest of Arden, linking Stratford-upon-Avon with Birmingham.
Before the Norman Conquest—before the arrival of the French—the area bore some resemblance to Tolkien’s Mirkwood, though instead of giant spiders, it was home to the Stoppingas, a South Anglian tribe. Part of the Kingdom of Hwicce, these early inhabitants dwelled in structures of wood, mud, straw, and horsehair—primitive dwellings not unlike some of today’s High Street cottages, though notably without the £500,000 price tag.
Straying from the main track into the depths of the Arden Forest was a perilous choice, as unwary travellers risked an encounter with the Stoppingas, who had little hesitation in relieving passersby of their belongings. A lingering testament to this treacherous past can still be found north of the town in the aptly named Cut Throat Lane.
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Click on book to buy
Click on book to buy
Life in Henley was relatively quiet for about a hundred years, with the Anglo Saxons slowly merging with their new landlords. However, tragedy struck in 1265. The Lord of the Manor at the time, Peter de Montfort, was a staunch supporter of his friend Simon de Montfort—though, funnily enough, they weren’t related—both of whom were determined to challenge King Henry III and his son, Prince Edward, famously known as Longshanks, presumably because of his very long legs.The battle between Simon and Edward was part of a larger power struggle between the monarchy and the Barons, both eager to rule the country in their own way. This conflict stemmed from the gradual erosion of the original agreement between the monarch and his barons, the Magna Carta (Latin for "Great Charter," or more informally, "That Really Important Piece of Paper").After a victory near Lewes, the Barons were feeling confident and believed one more battle would bring King Henry down. The final confrontation occurred near Evesham, only a few miles from Henley, where Simon and Peter were tragically killed, along with many of their forces. The battle was brutal, and the bloodshed was so severe that it's said the River Severn turned red with the blood of the fallen.Simon’s forces had been holed up in Hereford for weeks, unable to cross the River Severn due to bridges being destroyed by Longshanks. Eventually, they crossed at Worcester and marched to Evesham, where they were ambushed by Prince Edward. The fighting spread from the battlefield into the town itself, causing horrific carnage. In a final act of cruelty, Edward had Simon’s body mutilated and displayed at the town’s boundaries as a grim warning to other Barons.Upon hearing of Simon's death, Alice de Montfort, Peter's wife, along with their children, fled Henley. They carefully packed valuables into jute sacks and hid them along the banks of the River Alne, near Blackford Mill. Keep an eye out if you're in that area!I once directed a play about the ransacking of Henley in 1265, as part of the Crossroads Project in 2008. The production was made into a short film, and you can find a copy at the Heritage Centre on the High Street.Longshanks wasn’t finished with his revenge. Before returning to London, he destroyed both Beaudesert Castle and Henley, leaving the townspeople with nothing but smouldering ruins. Understandably, the market closed for business.Despite this, Henley survived, and the long process of rebuilding began. By 1315, the local residents were granted the rights of freemen, as Norman control began to fade. In 1336, the market was thriving again, so much so that the Lord of the Manor was granted permission to impose a sales tax on all goods sold, with the proceeds being used to rebuild cottages. This was probably the origins of a Neighbourhood Plan which was finally completed in 2023.As the town prospered, more and more businessmen emerged, many opening inns to cater to the growing number of market stallholders and their customers. These innkeepers, ever quick to see a profit, encouraged local young men to take up poaching in the nearby woods—though it was risky, as all wildlife was owned by the Baron.With a long stick, a piece of string, and a sharp pointy stick with feathers, the poachers would hunt deer, boar, partridges, or, occasionally, their own feet. Afterward, they'd bring their spoils to the inns in exchange for a groat, a pipe of tobacco, and a flagon of ale.
Life in Henley was relatively quiet for about a hundred years, with the Anglo Saxons slowly merging with their new landlords. However, tragedy struck in 1265. The Lord of the Manor at the time, Peter de Montfort, was a staunch supporter of his friend Simon de Montfort—though, funnily enough, they weren’t related—both of whom were determined to challenge King Henry III and his son, Prince Edward, famously known as Longshanks, presumably because of his very long legs.
The battle between Simon and Edward was part of a larger power struggle between the monarchy and the Barons, both eager to rule the country in their own way. This conflict stemmed from the gradual erosion of the original agreement between the monarch and his barons, the Magna Carta (Latin for "Great Charter," or more informally, "That Really Important Piece of Paper").
After a victory near Lewes, the Barons were feeling confident and believed one more battle would bring King Henry down. The final confrontation occurred near Evesham, only a few miles from Henley, where Simon and Peter were tragically killed, along with many of their forces. The battle was brutal, and the bloodshed was so severe that it's said the River Severn turned red with the blood of the fallen.
Simon’s forces had been holed up in Hereford for weeks, unable to cross the River Severn due to bridges being destroyed by Longshanks. Eventually, they crossed at Worcester and marched to Evesham, where they were ambushed by Prince Edward. The fighting spread from the battlefield into the town itself, causing horrific carnage. In a final act of cruelty, Edward had Simon’s body mutilated and displayed at the town’s boundaries as a grim warning to other Barons.
Upon hearing of Simon's death, Alice de Montfort, Peter's wife, along with their children, fled Henley. They carefully packed valuables into jute sacks and hid them along the banks of the River Alne, near Blackford Mill. Keep an eye out if you're in that area!
I once directed a play about the ransacking of Henley in 1265, as part of the Crossroads Project in 2008. The production was made into a short film, and you can find a copy at the Heritage Centre on the High Street.
Longshanks wasn’t finished with his revenge. Before returning to London, he destroyed both Beaudesert Castle and Henley, leaving the townspeople with nothing but smouldering ruins. Understandably, the market closed for business.
Despite this, Henley survived, and the long process of rebuilding began. By 1315, the local residents were granted the rights of freemen, as Norman control began to fade. In 1336, the market was thriving again, so much so that the Lord of the Manor was granted permission to impose a sales tax on all goods sold, with the proceeds being used to rebuild cottages. This was probably the origins of a Neighbourhood Plan which was finally completed in 2023.
As the town prospered, more and more businessmen emerged, many opening inns to cater to the growing number of market stallholders and their customers. These innkeepers, ever quick to see a profit, encouraged local young men to take up poaching in the nearby woods—though it was risky, as all wildlife was owned by the Baron.
With a long stick, a piece of string, and a sharp pointy stick with feathers, the poachers would hunt deer, boar, partridges, or, occasionally, their own feet. Afterward, they'd bring their spoils to the inns in exchange for a groat, a pipe of tobacco, and a flagon of ale.
The De Montforts
The De Montforts
Next Time - the Henley Archers
Next Time - the Henley Archers
We all remember where we were or what we were doing on the morning of 11th September 2001. That dark day found me standing on the Mount overlooking Henley-in-Arden, in the company of the Time Team, who were filming an episode on the remains of Beaudesert Castle. The site, once home to the powerful de Montfort family, was abuzz with archaeological discovery.On that occasion, the Time Team had arranged for a master bowyer—one of the few remaining artisans skilled in the craft of handmaking traditional longbows—to demonstrate the sheer power and lethality of these formidable weapons. It was a striking experience, all the more poignant given the context of the day’s tragic events in New York. As the twin towers fell, I couldn’t help but reflect on the ways in which terror and warfare have evolved—from hand-crafted archery in medieval battlefields to coordinated attacks with devastating consequences in modern cities.The link between Henley and longbows is far from incidental. Henley’s young men, having grown up amidst the ancient Forest of Arden, were naturally skilled in the bow. So proficient were they in this art that their talents came to the attention of King Edward III during the early phases of the Hundred Years’ War. In 1346, a contingent of 160 archers from Henley were summoned to join the King’s forces at the Battle of Crécy in northern France.There, these local archers demonstrated the extraordinary effectiveness of the English longbow—measuring around six feet (1.8 metres) in length and requiring considerable strength and training to wield. Against them, the French employed crossbows, which—though powerful—were slower to reload and lacked the rapid rate of fire. While the French rearmed, the English archers could loose up to 30 or 40 arrows per minute. The outcome was devastating, and the English emerged victorious.This was not to be the last time Henley’s men would be called upon to serve their country in foreign campaigns. Their martial legacy would continue in numerous conflicts across the centuries.The Hundred Years’ War, as it later became known, dragged on until 1453—a protracted and often inconclusive struggle that spanned generations. During this period, many Norman barons delegated the management of their estates to appointed officials while they pursued military or courtly interests. These trusted deputies were known as stewards, and in the Lord’s absence, they often assumed significant administrative authority over the manor. The steward was, in effect, the acting lord of the manor, overseeing justice, finances, and agricultural management.Towards the close of the conflict, Sir Ralph Boteler—then Lord of the Manor at Henley—secured a pivotal moment in the town’s development. In a move of considerable foresight, he petitioned King Henry VI for a charter to formalise Henley’s right to hold a weekly market. This royal charter, a sealed legal instrument granting trading privileges, survives to this day and is proudly displayed in the town’s Heritage Centre. It is a beautifully preserved document, complete with the monarch’s seal suspended below, and stands as a testament to Henley’s medieval importance and resilience.Visitors are encouraged to see the charter for themselves—a tangible link to Henley’s place in the great tapestry of English history.
We all remember where we were or what we were doing on the morning of 11th September 2001. That dark day found me standing on the Mount overlooking Henley-in-Arden, in the company of the Time Team, who were filming an episode on the remains of Beaudesert Castle. The site, once home to the powerful de Montfort family, was abuzz with archaeological discovery.
On that occasion, the Time Team had arranged for a master bowyer—one of the few remaining artisans skilled in the craft of handmaking traditional longbows—to demonstrate the sheer power and lethality of these formidable weapons. It was a striking experience, all the more poignant given the context of the day’s tragic events in New York. As the twin towers fell, I couldn’t help but reflect on the ways in which terror and warfare have evolved—from hand-crafted archery in medieval battlefields to coordinated attacks with devastating consequences in modern cities.
The link between Henley and longbows is far from incidental. Henley’s young men, having grown up amidst the ancient Forest of Arden, were naturally skilled in the bow. So proficient were they in this art that their talents came to the attention of King Edward III during the early phases of the Hundred Years’ War. In 1346, a contingent of 160 archers from Henley were summoned to join the King’s forces at the Battle of Crécy in northern France.
There, these local archers demonstrated the extraordinary effectiveness of the English longbow—measuring around six feet (1.8 metres) in length and requiring considerable strength and training to wield. Against them, the French employed crossbows, which—though powerful—were slower to reload and lacked the rapid rate of fire. While the French rearmed, the English archers could loose up to 30 or 40 arrows per minute. The outcome was devastating, and the English emerged victorious.
This was not to be the last time Henley’s men would be called upon to serve their country in foreign campaigns. Their martial legacy would continue in numerous conflicts across the centuries.
The Hundred Years’ War, as it later became known, dragged on until 1453—a protracted and often inconclusive struggle that spanned generations. During this period, many Norman barons delegated the management of their estates to appointed officials while they pursued military or courtly interests. These trusted deputies were known as stewards, and in the Lord’s absence, they often assumed significant administrative authority over the manor. The steward was, in effect, the acting lord of the manor, overseeing justice, finances, and agricultural management.
Towards the close of the conflict, Sir Ralph Boteler—then Lord of the Manor at Henley—secured a pivotal moment in the town’s development. In a move of considerable foresight, he petitioned King Henry VI for a charter to formalise Henley’s right to hold a weekly market. This royal charter, a sealed legal instrument granting trading privileges, survives to this day and is proudly displayed in the town’s Heritage Centre. It is a beautifully preserved document, complete with the monarch’s seal suspended below, and stands as a testament to Henley’s medieval importance and resilience.
Visitors are encouraged to see the charter for themselves—a tangible link to Henley’s place in the great tapestry of English history.
Henley Archers
Henley Archers
Next Time - the Manorial Court
Next Time - the Manorial Court