Edlingham – the 13th–14th century Northumbrian house of a well-travelled knight of the royal household

Between 1978-1982 Graham Fairclough led the excavation of Edlingham Castle, Northumberland. Rather than write up a traditional excavation report in his new book he takes a different and fascinating approach to understanding more about this castle.

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Edlingham Castle, in Northumberland between Rothbury and Alnwick, comprises the remains of a medieval fortified house excavated for the predecessor of English Heritage between 1978 and 1982, and freely open to the public from the mid-1980s. The earliest known building is a hall-house (to use a slightly contested term) of c.1295-1300, probably originally inside a palisaded moated enclosure, but to this was added a chamber tower in the 1330s or ‘40s and a stone gatehouse. Its enclosing walls were rebuilt on several occasions until by the sixteenth century the place resembled a small courtyard house, which was finally abandoned by the 1650s. Edlingham thus shows in microcosm the impact of Anglo-Scottish border warfare in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and of endemic lawlessness in the sixteenth, centuries. Another narrative, however, from a sociological perspective, first places the site and its owners in a national or even European context, and only in its later centuries into a more local, county-scale, world. A third Edlingham story would take most account of its architecture, notably the distinctive hall-house which before excavation was only guessed-at, and its imposing later tower that has usually been seen as part of the border ‘pele tower’ narrative – but both demand wider notice.

Air photo (with help from RAF Boulmer and one of their air-sea rescue helicopters) showing Edlingham Castle during excavation in 1979, from left, tower, hall-house, courtyard and walls of vaious dates (half-unexcavated) and gatehouse (unexcavated)

The excavations of 1978-82 focussed on the buried material remains of the site, which were described archaeologically and architecturally in summary interim articles prepared during the excavation and shortly afterwards. In my recent book, I took a different approach, and used biography – predominantly that of the castle’s first builder William de Felton, but also at some periods his peers, neighbours and family, as far as they are known – to inquire into Edlingham’s context and origins, and what might have influenced William in building the hall-house at Edlingham.

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Born and probably raised in Shropshire, in some uncertain way an offshoot of the large Lestrange clan of Shropshire and Norfolk, William de Felton’s first small landholding was in Northamptonshire; he acquired land in Northumberland in the late 1270s on marriage to a Northumbrian heiress, Constance de Pontop, and he acquired Edlingham only in 1295. By then he had been a member of the royal household since c. 1278, as a personal usher (husser) in Edward I’s private chamber. He travelled the length and breadth of England and Wales with the king, spending three years in France, mainly in Gascony and Béarn. His duties included supervising the king’s personal building works, but he was also a soldier, and had fought in Wales, Flanders and Scotland. He was constable of a succession of royal castles in Wales, Scotland and England, notably, in company with the famous James of St George, Beaumaris and Linlithgow while they were under construction. Given his travels and experience, therefore, it is not surprising that whatever William was to build at Edlingham was not necessarily going to have a regional or local inspiration.

The valley of the Edlingham Burn: village, church and the castle showing its valley bottom location, copyright Graham Fairclough

The biographical approach taken in ‘A Medieval Life’ illuminates Edlingham’s origins in several ways. It is a current maxim in castle studies that castles and other elite houses should be considered in the context of their territories or landscapes, but this involves more than land and its affordances but more widely the social affinities, perceptions and abilities of their builders and inhabitants. Knowing a little of the events and travels of William’s life thus becomes significant in how we see Edlingham. My book therefore reflects on the accuracy or desirability of seeing Edlingham as a ‘Northern’ castle, coloured by a perception of Northumberland as a violent, vulnerable and distant (indeed different) border region. For William (and probably for his son and at least his first grandson), the house at Edlingham belonged to a much wider psychological and emotional landscape. Understanding the origins and early decades of the castle’s life reveals the mentality of a social and geographical network far beyond Northumberland.

Finally, let us not forget modern biography. The excavation and my early work on it occurred when I was an Inspector of Ancient Monuments, my work focussed on the material remains of the past. Since, roughly speaking, the middle 1990s, however, my work turned increasingly towards landscape ways of seeing the past. ‘A Medieval Life’, therefore, as well as being a biography, and an archaeology and history book, is also at least in intention a landscape book.

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A Medieval Life: William de Felton and Edlingham Castle, 1260-1327 was published by Windgather Press (Oxbow books) in March 2025. A paper for Archaeologia Aeliana is also in preparation, and on 30 September 2026, Graham Fairclough is scheduled to give a talk about Edlingham and the book to the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne.

Graham Fairclough, latterly of Newcastle University and before that Historic England and its predecessors, https://www.ncl.ac.uk/hca/people/profile/grahamfairclough.html, led five years of excavation at Edlingham Castle in Northumberland between 1978 and 1982. Early full publication of excavation results is a goal much-desired, but there is an argument for longer periods of reflection, and the recent book ‘A Medieval Life’ is a more matured discussion of the castle and the excavation framed primarily as a biography of its first builder, William de Felton.

Ten days digging at Knepp Castle

From 20 April to 29 April, a community excavation took place at Knepp Castle involving local history and archaeology groups. Richard Nevell looks back on the dig.

I woke up early on Monday 20 April to travel to Knepp Castle, navigating my way before rush hour began. I arrived on site just past 9am and suddenly it was happening. This was the first day of excavations at Knepp Castle, and with a weather forecast suggesting we would get the full use of the planned ten days of digging. More than 50 people volunteered to participate in the dig, joining from Shipley History Society, Horsham District Archaeology Group, and Worthing Archaeological Society as well as volunteers from the Knepp Estate – all under the expert supervision of Chris Butler Archaeological Services (CBAS).

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The dig from afar. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0.

The focus of the ten-day stint was a 5m by 4m trench immediately west of the lone standing wall at the castle. There are a lot of assumptions about Knepp Castle and this was an opportunity to put them to the test, and to investigate an anomaly from the 2022 geophysical survey. The alignment was suggestive, but until we got down to the level of the anomaly what it represented was speculative.

In a broad sweep, Knepp Castle was first explicitly documented in 1210 but is likely older. It hosted several kings of England; featured in King John’s war with the barons; and was dismantled in the post-medieval period. The ruined wall stands tall in the landscape on its mound.

The first step was to remove the top soil. In an incredible feat for English weather, we not only had ten dry and (mostly) sunny days to dig but the weather in the lead-in to the dig has been mostly dry. Most of the time, rain slows things down but a sprinkling on the first day to soften the ground might have helped. That first day was the most physical, with volunteers wielding mattocks to remove the baked dry top layer of the ground. Already, artefacts started emerging – distinctly modern with some glass that might have come from beer bottles and a substantial metal piece of farming equipment which made a very effective paperweight when the weather got blustery.

Troweling began on day 2. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0.

As we worked our way through the subsoil, along with more animal bones and pottery we started to encounter a lot of oyster shells, mortar, and pieces of sandstone. The interpretation of these finds is pending, but oysters would have been a readily accessible food source.

Bags of oysters shells, this was’t even the whole lot. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0.

It is possible that the mortar and sandstone are left over from when the castle was dismantled, possibly in the 18th century. While I’m most interested in the castle’s medieval history, one of my favourite finds was a small fragment of teacup handle. That small piece of ceramic hints at people coming to the castle for a day out, and when the sun shone it was easy to see why. And though I’m no pottery expert, it was instantly recognisable.

A fragment of teacup handle. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0.

Over the course of the next week and a half, volunteers progressed deeper, uncovering more evidence of human activity at Knepp. The medieval pottery coming through and butchered animal bones were evidence of high-status feasting. Nails and stone may have been remnants of buildings at the castle that no longer stand.

The south side of the trench, with a stoney layer visible below the wheelbarrow. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0..

An area of burning mixed with slag suggests that some metal objects were created on-site. What we found was the waste from the process rather than the production site itself, but it would likely have been nearby. A volunteer asked me if this had been picked up by the geophysical survey. The magnetometry survey used in 2021 is typically good at picking up metalwork and evidence of burning, but we were digging in an area where there was too much interference from the lightning rod attached to the standing ruin to be able to pick out any detail from that survey.

A selection of animal bone, slag from metalworking, and ceramic building material found during the dig. Photo by Richard Nevell, CC-BY-SA 4.0.

As digging progressed there were regular questions about what depth we expected to find the anomaly at, and how far there was to go. When we got to the right depth we were faced with a bit of a puzzle. There was a change in soil discernable, and it looked like the anomaly may have been redeposited ‘natural’ – natural is the level at which there is no more human activity.

So what is the anomaly? The hypothesis that it might have been the wall of a building seems much less likely now. That is part of the process of putting theories to the test. At the same time, the process of excavating the castle has provided a lot of information about how it was used. Beyond the medieval period there were some prehistoric finds, pushing the history of human activity on the mound further back than anticipated. There was even a flint arrowhead, which I’ve been told is likely to date from the Early Bronze Age. The mound was a prominent feature in the landscape, and as such seems to have been a natural gathering point for people for millennia.

With the trench backfilled, the finds have been sent to the CBAS office for processing. Specialists are involved in evaluating the materials and refining preliminary interpretations. Once complete, the report will be available on the Castle Studies Trust website. In the meantime, if you’d like to relive the dig as it happened, I recorded some video updates from Knepp.

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