The expansion of the jury system in twelfth- and thirteenth-century England radically altered the nature of English politics. The use of juries stretched the tentacles of a rapacious administration into the localities. In doing so, the jury became a powerful instrument of government: transforming local men of substance into crown informants who monitored their neighbors’ activities for the good of the kingdom. This process has commanded a great deal of attention from historians over the last twenty years; yet, the lens has focused almost exclusively on the secular courts and its juries. What has been missing, and what Ian Forrest's exceptional study hopes to bring to our attention, is how this development was mirrored also in the English church, with its ever-increasing dependence upon inquests of “trustworthy men,” often the very same individuals who supplied the crown with information. These individuals are the subject of Forrest's study, in which he explains what it meant to be trustworthy in the medieval context; who these men actually were; the role they played within the diocese; how the bishop came to rely on them more and more; and finally, how trustworthy men also benefited from this relationship. While I'm not entirely convinced that Forrest delivers on his ambitious promise of a “complete reconceptualization of the medieval church” (2), he succeeded in convincing me that the church was far more deeply integrated into communities than I had previously recognized.

Forrest is writing for multiple audiences. Part 1 speaks chiefly to anthropologists, historical sociologists, and philosophers eager to dissect cultures of trust. The overarching argument is a wholesale rejection of the notion that history witnessed a transition from trust in persons (medieval) to trust in institutions (modern). Rather, as Forrest points out, the medieval world had its own rituals to prove an agreement was made in good faith; and when those fell through, they also had myriad legal mechanisms with which to seek justice. The church played a key role in dispute resolution, but much of these assurances sprang from the cultural traditions of a people who were far from credulous and who believed wholeheartedly that trust formed the boundaries of a community.

Part 2 asks: who were those “trustworthy men” (fidedigni)? While in the twelfth century the term was reserved chiefly for Gospel writers and the saints, over time it grew to include those with money and status. In particular, the trustworthy man was male, either a landowner or a tenant with a high rental value, around the age of forty-five years, with a long history of local office-holding. Indeed, most trustworthy men came from trustworthy families—that is, the same families were called upon time and again to supply information to the church. Their position, however, was solely symbolic. The bishop set the parameters of what it meant to be trustworthy and determined who fit the bill; a family who hoped to maintain its reputation for trustworthiness needed to demonstrate compliance in order to stay in the bishop's good graces. The fact that many of the men who met the criteria for trustworthiness failed to be appointed to these positions highlights the necessity of staying in the bishop's good graces.

The irony, as Forrest explains in part 3, is that although these men were expected to speak for their communities, their privileged backgrounds meant that they were far from representative. In fact, the church's trustworthy men made little effort to represent local needs and concerns; rather, they exploited their positions to advance their own interests and those of their peers. Here, Forrest adopts Charles Tilly's term “opportunity hoarding” (198) to explain how their behavior further entrenched the social inequalities of the localities from which they were drawn. Time simply exacerbated the issue. After the Black Death it was even more difficulty to find men who met the criteria. Admittedly, Forrest is conscious that factors such as harvest yields, topography, population density, and geography all had an impact on the nature of the relationship between the bishop and his trustworthy men.

And what did trustworthy men actually do on behalf of the church? Part 4 makes it clear that they did just about everything. Among others: they were executors and supervisors of wills; they distributed charity; they reported the immoral behavior of their neighbors; they collected clerical subsidies, parish alms for building projects, and manorial revenues; when rectories were vacant, they assessed its value and made sure it was handed over intact to the next rector; they mediated information on buildings, lands, and the division of space that constituted the physical church; they did inquests into dilapidations of church buildings; they “fixed” uncertain boundaries; their information was used to set tithes within the parish; they were informants regarding the character of local candidates to benefices; they carried out inquests into clerical behavior; they monitored benefit of clergy, organized watches over sanctuarymen, and handled cases of bloodshed on church property; they testified at clerical purgations; they supervised the health of local clergy; and they investigated unofficial cults of potential saints. The huge scope of the job makes a persuasive argument for Forrest's final point: without his trustworthy men, the bishop had no power. His edicts and judgments were respected only because he had the support of these local elites. Thus, while the bishop may have thought he was the one using the locals, all power and authority in fact rested in their hands.

I do not use the phrase lightly when I say that Forrest's book is groundbreaking. Studies of the parish typically showcase the church warden as the figure of authority at the level of the community; however, Forrest demonstrates that our lens has been focused on the wrong man, or, in this case, men. Despite the vast scope of their work, the trustworthy men have gone largely unnoticed by historians. Their very existence makes clear that the relationship between church and laity needs to be rethought. In no way were laymen simply pawns in the hands of churchmen, as they so often appear in the works of historians. Moreover, Forrest makes this point by drawing on a broad array of source materials: from cases appearing in the church courts to Arthurian literature, moral treatises, and even sermons. This book was a joy to read and one that I expect to bring new life to the study of church history, or, as Forrest prefers to describe it, “the social church” (4). My only complaint is the font size: the press decided to save money on paper by using a ridiculously small font, forgetting the bespectacled audience of scholars who might want to read it.