In the 1160s,Footnote ¹ an old man was forced by necessity to sell some wood he owned. Being old and feeble, he entrusted the business of the sale to his adolescent son. The son, however, was greedy, defrauding his father by keeping most of the sale proceeds for himself. Not suspecting his son, but certain that he had been wronged, the father asked his parish priest to bind with an anathema ‘whoever had brought this loss upon him’. Three times the priest warned that he would pronounce the sentence, yet the son admitted nothing, publicly or privately. Finally the excommunication was pronounced, but still the son felt no remorse, disregarding the fact that Satan now possessed his body and soul. But one night while he was fast asleep, completely naked except for a nightcap, two malignant spirits appeared. Dragging him out, the spirits cried in terrible voices, ‘You are ours and you are coming with us!’ In the morning, only the nightcap was found. It later transpired that the spirits had taken their (presumably still naked) prisoner to the Thames, where they had forced some sailors to ferry them across, ‘for no other reason, I suspect, than that what had happened should afterwards be made known by them’.Footnote ²

This story, related in Peter of Cornwall's Book of Revelations (c.1200) describes the excommunication of an unknown malefactor, and was intended to serve as a warning to excommunicates. Whilst the tale provides a satisfying conclusion, nonetheless a considerable problem with sentences pronounced against unnamed criminals is evident. Barring a miracle, someone excommunicated anonymously could get away with their crime. Nobody had been aware of the son's guilt; he himself had not admitted to his crime. Had the sailors not been involved, no one would have known that he had been dragged off to hell or discovered who had committed the crime. Yet such sentences, condemning unknown perpetrators after a crime, were common practice in high medieval England.

It is easy to understand why general sentences, chastising criminals whose names were not even known, might be dismissed as being of little practical value. Thus John Arnold, noting the numerous blanket excommunications in Oliver Sutton's episcopal register, has commented: ‘This was not a strong form of policing, more a sign of relative impotence.’Footnote ³ There is also a recognizable connection between excommunications censuring unknown offenders and eleventh-century monastic clamours. Lester Little argued that eleventh-century maledictions were last resorts, used by those without power following the supposed collapse of Carolingian public justice. They called upon God when there was no help to be found on earth. The powerless were thus resorting to liturgy when they had no recourse to law.Footnote ⁴ Seen against this background, thirteenth-century general excommunications could similarly be viewed as futile shouting at the sky. However, just as Little's presentation of liturgical clamours as products of a lack of judicial authority has been criticized, the judicial procedures that accompanied general sentences in high medieval England ought also to be acknowledged.Footnote ⁵

This article explores general sentences and their outcomes. Aimed at both the individuals who committed crimes and the communities around them, the ways in which general excommunications worked are both more complex and more effective than has been recognized. Most obviously, these sentences were intended to scare offenders into coming forward. Moreover, they were publicly pronounced, so that neighbours who knew the perpetrators would put pressure onto them to own up, or else report them to the authorities. The focus here, however, is on a process, probably developed during the thirteenth century, which was initiated by general sentences. Following the pronouncement of a general excommunication, an investigation (inquisitio) was routinely launched into who had perpetrated these offences: communal knowledge of crimes was actively sought by ecclesiastical authorities. Far from being desperate prayers, general sentences were merely the beginning of a judicial process, made possible by legal and administrative developments. Through these investigations, offenders were discovered and brought to justice. The nature of general sentences meant that it was perfectly possible for individuals to be excommunicated without anyone else knowing. Similarly, ipso facto sentences (latae sententiae) did not excommunicate named individuals, but bound anyone who had or would in future commit certain specified offences. As a result, whilst being anonymously excommunicated had serious implications for a person's soul, none of excommunication's tangible temporal consequences, such as ostracism or withdrawal of legal rights, could follow. Excommunication's consequences prior to death, particularly from a legal perspective, might be negligible.Footnote ⁶ Donald Logan thus found that even individuals known to have incurred automatic excommunication were not typically arrested by the secular arm (called upon to seize obstinate excommunicates) and Elisabeth Vodola noted that they rarely suffered withdrawal of legal rights.Footnote ⁷ However, investigations launched by general sentences enabled those who had incurred ipso facto excommunication to be denounced by name. They could subsequently be treated just like any other excommunicate. Any notion that ipso facto sentences did not result in the usual legal consequences is dispelled by an analysis of general sentences.

Over sixty years ago, Rosalind Hill noted that general excommunications occur frequently in the registers of Bishops Sutton and Dalderby of Lincoln and Archbishops Greenfield and Melton of York. Despite her remark that the topic deserves closer investigation, and the fact that such sentences are easily found in many more registers, these excommunications have been little studied since.Footnote ⁸ Certainly, in recent years a number of studies have illuminated latae sententiae excommunications. However, whilst deeply linked, latae sententiae and general excommunications are not interchangeable. The general sentences under discussion here responded to particular crimes recently perpetrated.Footnote ⁹ Although the ritual and penitential significance of papal and local ipso facto sentences has been acknowledged, attempts to seek out unknown excommunicates following a crime remain unexplored.Footnote ¹⁰ Discussions of individuals being bound by such sentences have tended to focus on petitions to the papal penitentiary for absolution. Thus Christian Jaser notes only that ipso facto sentences sought to induce people to turn themselves in by appealing to individual consciences.Footnote ¹¹ R. H. Helmholz and Véronique Beaulande have both discussed cases in which those accused of incurring excommunication for assaulting clergy (Si quis suadente, 1139) were dealt with in court, but do not discuss the courts looking for unknown excommunicates.Footnote ¹² The decree Ad vitanda (1418), which declared that only excommunicates who had been denounced by name ought to be avoided, not those bound by general sentences, has not prompted consideration of how someone might move from one category to the other.Footnote ¹³

In theory, any offence could be punished by a general sentence, but in practice the vast majority of general sentences declared in England responded to crimes that already incurred automatic excommunication. This solved two potential problems with general sentences. The first was that excommunication required warnings. In cases where the crime incurred a lata sententia anyway, the perpetrator was already excommunicated and there was no need for delay before excommunication was pronounced (where no ipso facto sentence was involved, warnings remained necessary).Footnote ¹⁴ Additionally, it meant that the sentence was binding whoever pronounced it: the sentence was issued by the law. The one making the denunciation was merely publicizing an excommunication already incurred.Footnote ¹⁵ This solved the problem that a general sentence only bound those in the jurisdiction of the one pronouncing the sentence (as stated in the Liber extra).Footnote ¹⁶ The ensuing general sentence would invoke the relevant lata sententia, publicize the crime and launch an investigation. If the culprits were subsequently discovered, whatever offence had originally deserved the automatic excommunication would no longer be noted in other documents (for example writs ordering the capture of those excommunicated for forty days or more).Footnote ¹⁷

The latae sententiae most frequently cited in general sentences were provincial ipso facto excommunications pronounced by Archbishop Stephen Langton in the Council of Oxford (1222), and issued by the papal legate Ottobuono in the Council of London (1268). The ‘original’ lata sententia pronounced at the Lateran Council of 1139 (Si quis suadente) was also often invoked. The most frequent excommunications thus punished assaulting clergymen (Si quis suadente), infringing the rights and liberties of churches (Council of Oxford, c.1), defamation (Council of Oxford, c.5), stealing from ecclesiastical houses, manors or lands (Council of London, c.12) and removing fugitives from sanctuary (ibid.). All these sentences were promulgated frequently in parish churches.Footnote ¹⁸ General sentences were thus typically used in response to attacks against the church, its rights and its members. Theft was frequently cited, but it was usually theft of ecclesiastical property or from clergymen. With the exception of defamation cases, correcting private wrongs on behalf of the laity appears to have been far less common. Although Helmholz noted that Si quis suadente cases were treated both as criminal and civil causes in ecclesiastical courts, brought either ex officio or at the instance of private parties, in the cases under discussion here ecclesiastical officials seem to have been acting ex officio, responding to crimes that incurred automatic excommunication.Footnote ¹⁹ However, offences may well have been brought to the bishop's attention by offended parties.

Hope of divine retribution may therefore have been in the minds of some clerics who excommunicated unidentified persecutors. These clerics had often been personally injured or robbed. Nevertheless, leaving aside hopes for supernatural punishment, the intention behind general sentences was that the guilty seek absolution, make restitution and perform public penance. Such an outcome would satisfy the requirements of pastoral care, satisfy the injured party and ensure that the bishop was seen to have an effective system whereby offenders were discovered and punished. These cases are presented in the sources as self-contained, not as precursors to further proceedings elsewhere. However, further research may reveal that the process was used in this way; some of these offences would certainly have been of interest to secular authorities.Footnote ²⁰

The first way general sentences might work was by scaring the offender into confessing. This was linked to the idea that God would exact vengeance; convincing people that they might be struck down is the point of miracle stories such as the opening example. Perhaps more potent, however, was the fear, not that death would be hastened, but that it would be followed by an eternity in hell. General sentences were invariably pronounced with a dramatic ceremony which implied that recalcitrant excommunicates would suffer this fate. At the culmination of the ceremony bells were rung, and candles held by the clergy pronouncing the sentence were thrown to the ground, as a version of the phrase ‘as these lights are extinguished, so their souls are extinguished in hell’ was uttered.Footnote ²¹

General sentences therefore sought to put pressure on the consciences of the guilty to bring about a confession.Footnote ²² The possibility that sinners felt anxious about being excommunicated, even if their state was not public knowledge, should be taken seriously. As Hill remarked, ‘perhaps the solemnities of bell, book and candle stirred up a spark of piety even in a hardened burglar’.Footnote ²³ Latae sententiae incurred only secretly are known to have prompted petitions to the apostolic see for absolution.Footnote ²⁴ Similarly, episcopal registers suggest that general sentences could prompt voluntary confessions from the guilty. Thus, in 1279, the bishop of Hereford received three foresters ‘humbly seeking’ absolution. They were afraid that they were bound (timentes se ligari) by an ipso facto excommunication promulgated against all those who maliciously prevented the bishop enjoying the liberty of his chase at Malvern.Footnote ²⁵ In such cases, it could be argued that unacknowledged pressures (such as rumours in the parish) were behind these seemingly voluntary pleas for absolution. Certainly the formulaic language of humility used by clergy recording these confessions should be treated with caution. Any number of additional considerations could have influenced these criminals’ decision to come forward.Footnote ²⁶ Equally, however, that excommunicated criminals harboured fears about the state of their souls is perfectly credible. General excommunications could compel requests for absolution by playing upon such fears.

Nevertheless, if trying to scare sinners into confessing was the only purpose of these general sentences, it would be reasonable to view them as fairly weak. Although much of the power of general sentences derived from spiritual fears, many criminals would surely have acted like the adolescent in the opening tale, jubilantly feeling they had got away with their crime. Barring a miracle, such unidentified criminals would indeed have done so. However, the effectiveness of general sentences was not limited to appeals to criminals’ consciences and fears. They were aimed at communities as much as at individuals.

General sentences were pronounced on Sundays and feast days in churches in the vicinity of the offence committed. Members of the parish, city or diocese who heard the well-publicized excommunication could report any information they had to ecclesiastical authorities, or perhaps urge the guilty to come forward. They might act out of anger or a sense of justice, or they might fear that their friend or relative would end up in hell without absolution. Often general sentences were worded dramatically; it seems that part of the intention was to persuade the audience that the offence required punishment. John of Pontoise, bishop of Winchester, described how satellites of Satan, forgetful of their salvation, with fear of God put aside, had ‘with diabolic instinct’ besieged a church in an armed multitude.Footnote ²⁷ Similar language is found in many general sentences, which routinely term the unknown sinners ‘sons of Belial’, ‘limbs of the devil’ and other condemnatory titles. To ensure understanding, it was sometimes specified that these denunciations should be ‘in the mother tongue understandable to all’.Footnote ²⁸ Communities may not have always been swayed by such descriptions, but the church was certainly seeking informants. In some cases, most obviously theft, nobody might have known who was responsible. Yet if the theft described in the miracle had happened in reality, we might imagine that once it had been publicized, people would notice the son's sudden wealth and begin to suspect him. When Walter Giffard, archbishop of York, sought to find the thieves who stole a rector's horses and books, he ordered an investigation into whom the stolen goods had reached.Footnote ²⁹ The miracle story does not mention that the priest was hoping others would turn in the thief, but probably this had long been part of the purpose of publicizing general sentences. Some who confessed may therefore have been forced to do so by communal pressure. Conscience was certainly not the only reason to confess to a crime that incurred excommunication.

Usually, however, those who confessed did not appear of their own accord, but were cited following an investigation. This was the key development in general sentences of excommunication. General sentences had probably long sought to encourage informants, but by the end of the thirteenth century they no longer relied upon the volunteering of information. Sentences customarily launched investigations, harnessing new administrative structures and growing episcopal power to seek out communal knowledge of crimes. Vehement denunciations of unknown malefactors urged the guilty to confess, but also facilitated the ensuing investigations by publicizing the crime committed and persuasively condemning those involved.

It is difficult to be certain when investigations seeking the names of malefactors began. Evidence survives only in episcopal registers (in this period at least), which themselves begin to survive from the second half of the thirteenth century. In some form, general sentences certainly had a much longer history. The miracle story with which this article opened, set in the mid-twelfth century and recorded at the turn of the thirteenth, describes the old man's remedy as an unusual one, although this may be because he was a layman rather than because general sentences as a practice were unusual. According to his hagiography, St Hugh of Lincoln (d. 1200) issued a general sentence (the one culprit who refused to seek absolution consequently suffered terrible misfortunes).Footnote ³⁰ Writing in the early thirteenth century, Robert of Flamborough matter-of-factly noted the practice while giving a (slightly odd) definition of excommunication by name: someone is excommunicated by name by both ‘I excommunicate Peter’ and ‘I excommunicate he who stole that horse’, if Peter stole it.Footnote ³¹ The earliest surviving episcopal register, of Hugh of Wells, bishop of Lincoln (1209–35), mentions numerous people bound by the general excommunication pronounced against the rebellious barons in 1215.Footnote ³² General excommunications are likely to have become more common after 1222, when Stephen Langton ordered seven ipso facto excommunications to be publicized four times a year. Clergy would therefore have been increasingly aware of automatic excommunications.Footnote ³³ The administrative and legal structures necessary to hold successful investigations (local clergy conducting investigations, middling clergy arranging them and the denunciations which publicized crimes, and bishops and archbishops overseeing the process and to whose court anyone discovered was sent) indicate that the the process may have developed in the mid-thirteenth century. Laymen were used from the late twelfth century to make presentments about clerical conduct in their dioceses. Reporting on fellow laypeople appears to have been the innovation of Robert Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, in 1238/9.Footnote ³⁴ This process of episcopal-led investigation into unnamed excommunicates could thus have developed as diocesan authority became more centralized during the thirteenth century, although it may have earlier roots impossible to trace through the extant evidence.Footnote ³⁵ Sampling of episcopal registers from dioceses across England indicates that general excommunications and linked investigations remained important practices into the fifteenth century. Examples towards the end of the fifteenth century are harder to find in registers. Act books of episcopal courts, which survive mostly from the fifteenth century, were beyond the scope of this study, but undoubtedly contain valuable information for later practice. The heyday of general excommunications was perhaps the two centuries from c.1250.

The nature of the evidence makes it difficult to know precisely how investigations initiated by general excommunications were conducted in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Not all general excommunications ordered investigations, but this is probably a matter of record rather than an indication that investigations were only sometimes launched: instructions to investigate were extremely formulaic and may often not have been enregistered as a result. Inconsistent record keeping is as likely as inconsistent procedure.Footnote ³⁶

Most mandates order solemn denunciations to be pronounced against the unknown miscreants, and end by instructing the recipient (usually an archdeacon or dean) to inquire ‘diligently’ or ‘in form of law’ into what had happened and into the names of those responsible. Those found were then cited to appear before the bishop. Sometimes a date and place was set for this appearance at the bishop's ‘court of audience’, typically wherever he happened to be in his diocese.Footnote ³⁷ Simon of Ghent, bishop of Salisbury, thus ordered the rector of Chilton to conduct an investigation ‘through people not under suspicion’ (per non suspectos). The rector was to cite any found guilty or publicly defamed to appear before the bishop at St Mary's Church, Reading, on the third law day after Trinity Sunday (that is, about three weeks after the date of his mandate).Footnote ³⁸ These formulaic mandates rarely provide even as much information as this, which suggests that the procedure was common. Bishops must have expected more than is usually recorded. Thus only occasionally were recipients instructed to inform the bishop of the names of those cited, but bishops would surely have expected to be told who was going to appear at their courts.Footnote ³⁹ The investigation was intended to round up suspects, not necessarily to discover the guilty.Footnote ⁴⁰ A letter in an Ely formulary (mid-fourteenth century) orders the archdeacon's official to cite those found ‘culpable or stained with infamy’ (culpabiles seu infamia respersos).Footnote ⁴¹ Ralph of Salisbury, bishop of Bath and Wells, detailed ‘those you find guilty by reputation or fact’ (culpabiles fama vel facto).Footnote ⁴² Similarly, archbishop Winchelsey ordered the bishop of Chichester to cause investigation to be made through local rectors, vicars and others he considered suitable, and to cite those found culpable or ‘accused’ (notatos).Footnote ⁴³

In many cases, the results of such investigations were not recorded. Nevertheless, we should not assume that bishops merely gave up: episcopal registers are far from exhaustive and uniform in their record-keeping practices. The register of Simon of Ghent contains comparatively more information regarding this process and successful outcomes, but this is probably down to an unusually thorough registrar rather than a more effective administration. Nor were registers designed to record what had taken place before a bishop's court.Footnote ⁴⁴ What had happened following citation is generally only recorded in registers if mandates were required to carry out the bishop's judgment. Judging by the anger, shock and indignation frequently expressed in these sentences, the bishops were unlikely to leave these crimes unpunished. Moreover, they had a pastoral duty to correct sinners, as well as considerable incentive to protect the authority of their office by punishing offenders.Footnote ⁴⁵ These motives were not mutually exclusive. Certainly some crimes remained unsolved: Ralph of Salisbury's register contains cases in which nobody was cited because no one had been found guilty, for instance.Footnote ⁴⁶ Bishops might also have had to contend with negligent or deceitful clergy. Thus in 1280, William Wickwane, archbishop of York, was compelled to deal with the matter personally because the officials appointed failed to conduct the investigation. It is significant, however, that Wickwane ensured action was taken, personally taking on the burden. The culprits were accordingly discovered and duly denounced by name.Footnote ⁴⁷

The process of investigation becomes clearer in cases where the results were recorded. In the York case just cited, the archbishop investigated the incident (violent occupation of a church) ‘through trustworthy men’.Footnote ⁴⁸ On 16 February 1308, Simon of Ghent ordered the ‘truth and circumstances’ of a breach of sanctuary and possible murder in New Windsor, and the names of the malefactors, to be ascertained ‘through trustworthy men and more diligent jurors’.Footnote ⁴⁹ There is no indication of how many trustworthy men took part or how they were selected. Ian Forrest's recent study of the role of trustworthy men might provide some answers.Footnote ⁵⁰ Canon law does not help here: Helmholz's study of ecclesiastical juries in England found that they were not discussed in the canon law (neither were they unlawful under it). These juries usually consisted of about twelve jurors, who could be examined individually. In this sense they were unlike secular juries of presentment, who were treated as a group. Like secular juries, however, they were meant to report on communal knowledge, the ‘public fame’.Footnote ⁵¹ The investigations associated with general excommunications must have been similar to the juries Helmholz discussed, but it is impossible to say to what extent. They appear to be perhaps a little more ad hoc than the juries he discussed.

It is clear that the investigations, however conducted, could be very fruitful, providing not only the names of the offenders but a fuller account of the offence itself. Thus it transpired in 1308 that no murder had in fact taken in place in New Windsor. In the original mandate the bishop evidently had little information; not even the victims were known. Having investigated, the official named the victims as Hugh Ide and Simon le Webbe. He had found nine men and two women, named in the letter, responsible for bloody assault and extraction of Hugh and Simon. He had warned these people to seek absolution by 12 March, but did not proceed further, waiting for further instructions from his bishop. Bishop Simon had ordered the official to act quickly out of concern for souls; the official's reply was sent less than three weeks after the bishop's order.Footnote ⁵²

There were a number of possible outcomes for those found guilty or implicated during the investigation. The first was that they were cited to appear before the bishop but did not do so (or did appear, but showed no remorse or willingness to make amends). It was therefore possible for investigations to be successful, but for the guilty to remain recalcitrant. In such cases, those cited were being contumacious, even if they had not committed the original offence. They could therefore be judicially excommunicated by name, and could consequently (at least in theory) be shunned by the faithful, denied legal rights and, after forty days, arrested by the sheriff at the bishop's request. There is no knowing how many people excommunicated for contumacy had been through this process, but the assumption that general sentences had lesser practical consequences than those for contumacy should be reconsidered in light of the fact that the latter could result from the former.Footnote ⁵³

The second was that the accused appeared and attempted to show why they should not be denounced by name. Mandates make clear that those cited were expected to do this. In another case of a fugitive's extraction from sanctuary, the investigation revealed the names of five men who appeared and publicly confessed to wounding and dragging Adam at Wood from Fawler Chapel. A sixth man, however, had also been incriminated; the investigation ‘pretended’ that he was an accomplice. William de la More, the accused, ‘expressly denied this’, saying instead that he had been helping Adam at Wood. The bishop therefore allowed him to purge himself, with eight compurgators. He thus had to take a formal oath that he was innocent of the crime, and find eight men known to the accused and of good repute to swear that they believed he had sworn truthfully. William's ability to prove his innocence thus relied on a level of support and trust within the community.Footnote ⁵⁴ If his purgation failed, he was to be dealt with along with the others, who were given public penance. It seems likely that purgation was the most common method of demonstrating one's innocence, but it is possible that there were other options. In 1417/18 certain men who had cut down trees in a cemetery seem to have tried their luck by claiming that ‘a certain dementia’ had overtaken them.Footnote ⁵⁵

In the case at New Windsor above, there is some indication that further investigation was made, this time by the ‘discrete men’ Peter de Periton and Robert de Worth, both of whom later held high office in the diocese.Footnote ⁵⁶ Some confessed, others were legitimately convicted. The distinction here is unclear, but perhaps the former realized that the game was up and that if appearing before the bishop was inevitable it would look better to turn themselves in. Significantly, however, the names cited following the second investigation correspond only partially with those found in the first. Thus Johanna, wife of William Vigerous, appears on the first list of names but not the second, whereas her husband appears on the second but not the first. What happened in the interim is uncertain; perhaps those ‘legitimately convicted’ had been implicated in the first investigation and their guilt confirmed in the second. During the process, Johanna Vigerous may have been excused or purged herself.Footnote ⁵⁷

The final possible outcome was that those cited to appear did so, confessed, and humbly sought absolution. The penitents would be given public penance and would have to make restitution, returning or replacing stolen items where possible. Those involved in the violence at New Windsor were divided into five groups, given different penances according to the extent of their involvement. Twelve men were to present themselves humbly at the great doors of Salisbury Cathedral on Maundy Thursday, with uncovered heads and bare feet. There they were to receive discipline (beatings). They were also to go to New Windsor, where they had committed their offence, every solemn day and Sunday until Holy Trinity and stand outside the church throughout the mass, to show that they were excluded. They were, however, permitted to enter the church on Easter Day and the four following days. They were also to be beaten three times around the church of New Windsor, and once through the market there. The next group, of nine men, were spared going to Salisbury but were otherwise given the same penance. Six men were to offer candles and receive discipline at the doors of New Windsor church. Five women were to be beaten three times each through the market and round the church, and were to stand outside the church on three solemn days while divine services were celebrated. Finally, John Vigerous and Cecilia Coupere were to give alms worth sixpence on Good Friday. In each case, the cause of the penance was to be publicly explained to the people, who were to be encouraged to pray for the penitents. The guilty had further been obliged to take the standard oath that they would obey the church's mandates and not infringe ecclesiastical liberty. Otherwise they would automatically fall under their former sentences of excommunication.Footnote ⁵⁸ The dean of Reading, put in charge of ensuring that these penances were performed, finally wrote to the bishop on 18 April confirming that all the penances had been started and some had been completed.Footnote ⁵⁹

The details of this case show how thorough the process begun by general excommunications could be. Investigations not only discovered the names of the guilty but also allowed penances to be tailored to the nature and circumstances of the offence.Footnote ⁶⁰ The penances enjoined on the malefactors were of the sort typically prescribed, although penances were not necessarily performed at Easter (here the timing was probably convenient). While it could be argued that the offenders in these cases got off lightly compared the treatment of similar violence in secular courts, public penance was by no means a negligible punishment.Footnote ⁶¹ The result here was almost certainly exactly what the bishop wished. The guilty were found, forced to confess and seek absolution, and then publicly shamed. The criminals’ souls were saved, and everyone in the vicinity would have been made aware of their crime and that the church had discovered and dealt with such sinners.

Often the records of such cases describe public confessions and humble pleas for absolution. As we have seen, however, in fact the full force of the bishop's administrative power provoked these confessions. Thus when three men ‘judicially admitted’ that they had bound certain people who had fled to the church of Sparsholt, they asked for absolution and were duly given penance. Walter Geffray and William de Chaulawe were to process around the church barefoot on the next three Sundays and feast days, carrying the fetters they had used in their crime. They were to receive discipline at the priest's hands, while their crimes were explained, before the church doors. John called Kyng, however, was to be beaten in the markets of Wantage and Wallingford because he was ‘known to have offended more’. This detail implies a fruitful investigation rather than spontaneous confession. Penance performed in marketplaces thus appears to have been viewed as a harsher punishment. That the confession of the three men might not have been entirely voluntary is further indicated by stern instructions about what to do if they refused to carry out their penances. However, since others yet unknown were also believed to be guilty, the general sentence continued.Footnote ⁶²

Investigations launched by general excommunications against unknown malefactors thus often provided the names of the guilty. The process could be both effective and quick: in cases where the results of the investigations survive, names were typically discovered in weeks. At worst, this simply allowed the culprits to be denounced by name. The names of those illicitly occupying Minety Church were discovered within a month; their crimes were ‘public and notorious to such an extent that there is absolutely no place for denial … the whole people of the vicinity stands witness’. The malefactors did not give in easily, however, and the excommunications, now nominatim rather than generaliter, continued. Additionally, the names of those communicating with the unrepentant excommunicates were to be investigated.Footnote ⁶³ Excommunication was not always a powerful sanction, but it could be coercive in various ways. The power of excommunication in general is another question entirely, but it is important that general sentences against unnamed offenders could become sentences against named sinners following investigation. Then, if excommunication alone did not work, the secular power could be called upon to arrest hardened sinners. General sentences could demonstrate impotence, but hardly more so than excommunication as a whole. At best, the church was seen to deliver swift punishment of those who had violated its laws. If the guilty presented themselves as humble penitents who had been convinced of the error of their ways, ecclesiastical discipline appeared strong. Public confessions demonstrated the church's authority, while imposing absolution allowed it to appear merciful. The publicity afforded absolutions and public penances is significant; much of this was about the church being seen to deal with these breaches of its peace and liberties.

The ability to investigate the names of the guilty changed the nature and power of general sentences. However, one final case cautions against over-emphasizing judicial and procedural developments. The process just outlined added teeth to general sentences, but built upon and institutionalized, rather than replaced, the existing functions of this type of excommunication. In 1306, trees from the bishop of Hereford's wood at Ross were cut down and removed. The unknown malefactors were excommunicated and fourteen men duly discovered. These men were given penance to be performed around the church and marketplace of Ross (this did not involve beatings). The two ringleaders were to restore the trees taken.Footnote ⁶⁴ With the culprits thus found and punished, the case was presumably closed. But nine months later, three brothers, John, Richard and Walter Irreby, appeared at the bishop's manor at Ross. They knew that the transgressions committed the previous year incurred excommunication ipso facto, and ‘with conscience dictating’ they humbly sought absolution. The bishop received them as ‘penitent and contrite’. Penance was imposed on them: they were to visit the church of Hereford and offer oblations to the Virgin and St Ethelbert there, and to offer 100s. for the fabric of the church.Footnote ⁶⁵

The memorandum recording all this is different in form to documents following investigations; no inquiry is mentioned. The brothers appeared of their own accord, which makes sense considering that the case had, from the bishop's perspective, been wrapped up months earlier. The language used is that of conscience and repentance. The brothers were perhaps scared for their souls. Perhaps they felt guilty for getting away with a crime for which others had been punished. Alternatively, communal pressure may have been brought to bear by neighbours who had witnessed the others’ public penance, but knew of the Irrebys’ guilt and deemed it unfair that they had got off scot free. Whether the Irreby brothers were driven by fear, conscience or external pressures, it seems clear that they were not forced before the bishop by the authorities. The case demonstrates the complicated, but important, interplay between authorities trying to discover the truth, communities putting pressure on the guilty through gossip and accusations, and individuals being governed by conscience. General excommunications harnessed all these mechanisms.

The case of the Irreby brothers demonstrates, nevertheless, that investigations were not infallible. The church relied on local knowledge, and needed cooperation from the community. Though the community could expect to face sanctions, usually an interdict, for being obviously uncooperative, it could nevertheless choose not to aid the church's agents or to pervert the truth. This is particularly likely when the crime incurring excommunication was merely one part of an ongoing dispute, as many were. Understanding the intricacies of events in each case would require a full examination.Footnote ⁶⁶ Nevertheless, many of these problems apply equally to other medieval legal procedures, particularly juries of presentment. Both secular and ecclesiastical procedures, dependent as they were on communal accusations and suspicion, could be manipulated by the parish elites usually called upon in such situations.Footnote ⁶⁷ If episcopal investigations were not infallible, they were hardly unique in this respect. Moreover, Ian Forrest has recently argued that when bishops used ‘trustworthy men’ to garner local knowledge, as they did here, they were willing to accept a certain level of doubt and error.Footnote ⁶⁸ Provided that somebody was found, publicly punished and forced to make amends, whether or not all or the right people were thus dealt with may have been a lesser concern. Forrest's presentation of episcopal authority has much to recommend it, but it perhaps disregards any genuine concern for souls felt by bishops. It certainly did matter if people remained excommunicated. Nevertheless, through this process bishops were fulfilling their duty to do everything in their power to correct souls, even while they may be seen to be demonstrating their authority. They could not be accused of negligence. Moreover, public penance (whoever performed it) was supposed to deter others from committing similar crimes, potentially saving souls.

The practice of general excommunication was both more complex and more effective than hitherto recognized. The process initiated by sentences pronounced against unknown malefactors was not without its problems, but many issues involved were common to other contemporary legal processes. Whilst some failed cases may have shown bishops to be impotent, this was not the general impression. Instead, bishops’ spiritual power was shown when they publicly imposed ‘the benefit of absolution’, preventing sinners from suffering in hell as they would as excommunicates. Their temporal power was shown in their ability to ascertain names of wrongdoers and bring them to justice. If there were flaws in the system, bishops had nevertheless publicly dealt with crimes against the church by named excommunication or public penance. Investigations were a crucial development, but they worked alongside, rather than replaced, general sentences. In the secular sphere, the investigation would be the first step, but the church was able, and indeed bound, to use its spiritual sanction to bolster the legal process.Footnote ⁶⁹ First, public denunciations played an important part in persuading people to cooperate with the investigations. Second, investigations were not always entirely successful. The spiritual fears and possible communal pressure aroused by general sentences thus provided a fall-back, and could also lead to punishment of the guilty. General excommunication was therefore frequently an efficient and potent process, bringing about justice via a number of interconnected methods.