Mabel de Bellême, wealthy Norman landowner, belonged to the de Bellême family.  They were infamous for cruelty and general wickedness.  Mabel exercised her share of the wickedness and cruelty; eventually one of the many Normans she impoverished gathered his brothers and murdered her.  We discuss the de Bellêmes, when we're not discussing Orderic Vitalis, the monk who chronicled their history. (For those of you who have forgotten, it's Orderic who thought that the White Ship crashed on account of sodomy, rather than the rock in the harbor and everybody being drunk in the middle of the night.)

Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revel got into lots of legal trouble  in 1443, 1451, 1452, and might or might not have done the things he got accused of, but he did indeed enter into a plot, along with Richard Neville, to overthrow King Edward IV, for which he ended up in prison. Too bad for him! But lucky for us, because that's when he wrote The Hoole Book of Kyng Arthur and of His Noble Knyghtes of The Rounde Table, which got published, after his death, by William Caxton, which is why we know it. Caxton, by the way, made a bunch of editing decisions, one of which was to shorten the title to Le Morte d'Arthur . Your hosts explain lots of things -- Malory's legal troubles, where Le Morte d'Arthur  fits into Arthurian literature,  his feud with the Duke of Buckingham -- and some holy oil given to Becket by the Virgin Mary herself, and Dickens' connection to Marshalsea prison. It's all connected.  Really.

Happy New Year! An episode without any deaths! The "chief treasure of the western world" (as the Annals of Ulster reported) was stolen from the Abbey of Kells in 1006, surprisingly, not by Vikings. The thieves tore off the cover, which was encrusted with gold and jewels, we figure, and threw away the manuscript itself, which was found 2 months and 20 days afterwards, "under a sod." Besides the book itself, and some other book which was like it in being thrown in a bog, and Kells, why we want to go there, Michelle also tells us about finding relatives in Meath, and a high cross in the river at Kells which might be there but if so it's impossible to find. Fun times!  And we repeat: Vikings were not at fault!

It's a Special Episode! Peter Konieczny joins us, to share his knowledge and stories about frauds in medieval London.  A fake Earl's son, who needs you to help a lot, really, no kidding. Fake government inspectors who need you to hand over the ale so they can test it, bye-bye. Bakers who steal bits of your dough so as to make extra loaves and shortchange you. Merchants who put dirt in cinnamon. London's a scary place. Many thanks to Peter and medievalists.net.

After years of annoying each other, and fighting about the boundaries between church power and royal power, Henry II of England lost his temper with Thomas Becket, at Christmas, and said something (we don't actually know what, exactly) which caused four knights who didn't know him very well (and hence didn't realize that he lost his temper all the time and would be getting over it in a while) to go down to Canterbury and murder the Archbishop. Bad career move, really. And Thomas Becket, who was then after all a martyr, started healing people and performing miracles pretty much immediately.  Henry was very sorry. Or, at least, he said so. In this episode, we explain it all for you, and Michelle has a lot to say about drama.  Not surprisingly.

Once the Latin Church figured out how to justify slaughtering people who weren't believing the things they were supposed to believe, according to the Latin Church, it was a short leap from slaughtering them in the Holy Land to slaughtering them in Europe.  The Cathars were being very wrong, very wrong indeed, on account of being dualists and not believing in things like baptism and the resurrection. So the Pope called a crusade against them.  And the French monarchy was glad to help, since the Languedoc -- where most of the Cathars were hanging out -- was rich and enticing territory to annex.  To France. Which is why, in the Languedoc today, they mostly speak French rather than Occitan. Even though "languedoc" is from "langue d'oc"-- "language of òc."  That's one way languages get endangered.

At the end of 1095, Pope Urban II called for  the first of several crusades, wherein the Latin Christian Europeans were supposed to go take the Holy Land away from the Islamic rulers who held it at that time.  So the nobility of Europe, mostly from France, started putting together forces and money, so as to travel and fight.  That was the Prince's Crusade, the First Crusade, and it would leave Europe in the summer of 1096.  It takes a while to gather the wherewithal needed for such a venture.  Unless you just plan on being a mob!  In that case, you can be the People's Crusade, and leave for the Holy Land in April! It takes no time at all to gather money if you just steal it from other people.  The People's Crusade slaughtered the Jewish communities that they came across, creating the first of the giant massacres of the Jews of Europe which would continue on through the Middle Ages. They never  got to the Holy Land; those of them that survived the journey (and the Hungarians, who managed to kill a lot of them)  managed to get as far as Civetot, where the Seljuk Turks slaughtered them.  Your hosts aren't sorry about this.

On Easter Monday, 1282, the Sicilians revolted against the French government that had been in place since 1266; in the course of a few weeks 4,000 to 8,000 French people were slaughtered, depending on what source you are reading. We explain how things got to such a pass, and Michelle has a lovely trip down a rabbit hole wherein she discovers the awesomeness of Stephen Runciman.  George Orwell makes a cameo appearance.

When Arche the Miller and a bunch of his cohorts got very very drunk and pretended to be ghosts, they were living in Early Modern England, but they were pretending to be Medieval Ghosts, new ghosts having not been invented yet. In this episode, we explain medieval ghosts and how to pretend to be one, tell medieval ghosts stories, and try to wrap our minds around the well-known medieval forensic tool wherein murdered bodies bleed when the murderer comes by. Happy Halloween!

Robert the Bruce was not yet King of the Scots when he stabbed John Comyn in front of the high altar in Greyfriars' Church in Dumfries. But he would be, pretty soon, in spite of being excommunicated for violence in the church. We explain the fight for the crown of Scotland and the interfering bossiness of Edward I of England, but we don't explain whether the Bruce murdered Comyn or it was self-defense, because we don't really know.  Because chroniclers.