The Origin of the Lathes of East Kent

The Origin of the Lathes of East Kent

james lloyd

No two English counties are the same but Kent has many peculiarities. The lathes, administrative divisions which are now obsolete, have attracted much comment and their origin has been the cause of considerable speculation. This essay reviews some of the earlier theories on this subject and offers one of its own. Questions of their function and the officers and courts which manifested them deserve to be discussed but, for the sake of brevity and simplicity, this essay will restrict itself to a very basic discussion of the factors which caused the early development of the lathes and how they assumed their names. Owing to the imbalance of evidence, the essay’s emphasis will be on the east Kent lathes.¹

The first detailed survey of the lathes is that in the Domesday Book, in which Kent was divided into seven (Map 1a); Boruuar Lest, Estrelest, Linuuartlest, Wiuuartlest,² Lest de Sudtone, Lest de Ailesford³ and Lest de Middeltune.⁴ Of the four east Kent lathes, Estrelest means the lathe of Eastry and the other three are lathes of the wara (Old English for ‘men’, crudely converted into legal Latin) of the borough (i.e. Canterbury), the River Limen and Wye respectively. They are also found as ‘Lest de Borowart’,⁵ ‘Lest de Estrede’,⁶ ‘Lest de Linuuarlet’⁷ and ‘Lest de Wiwarlet’.⁸ By contrast, the three west Kent lathes are named directly after the estates of Sutton-at-Hone, Aylesford and Milton, of which the first and last are also found as ‘dimidius lest’ (half-lathe).⁹

The first reference to the Limen-wara is in a charter of 724,¹⁰ which alludes to land ‘on Limenwearawealde’, in the weald of the men of the Limen, (i.e. their reserved Wealden swine-pasture). The same charter also concerns land ‘on Weowerawealde’ (the weald of the men of Wye). On a similar note, by 845 there was a ‘uueowera get’, Wye-men’s gate, in Canterbury.¹¹ Wye would be one of the Domesday Book lathes and was a royal estate.¹² It is tempting to see these allusions to the men of the Limen and the men of Wye as indicating that the lathes of Wye and the Limen had formed by 724. A ‘Cæstruuarouualth’ (weald of the men of Rochester) is mentioned in a charter of 747¹³ and ‘burh waro waldo’ (weald of the men of Canterbury) in 786.¹⁴ By analogy with Wye and the Limen, this evidence suggests the existence of lathes based on Canterbury (as expected) and Rochester (no longer extant by 1086).

There are grounds for believing that the Latin ‘regio’ was used as a standard term for lathes in charters. Eastry was described as a regio in 788,¹⁵ as was Lympne in 812.¹⁶ In 738, Stoke is said to be ‘in regione que uocatur Hohg’.¹⁷ The implied polity of Hoo appears again in the early eleventh-century Rochester Bridge work-list¹⁸ as ‘Howaran land’, the land of the men of Hoo.¹⁹ The same document refers also to the ‘dænewaru’, literally the valley-men but probably a scribal slip for denn-men, the inhabitants of the Weald.²⁰ Regiones of Rainham and Faversham, both royal estates, are mentioned in 811.²¹ A tenth-century interpolation²² in the same charter gives ‘in regione merscuuariorum’, in the lathe of the Marsh-men (the marsh being Romney Marsh). More reliably, a charter of 774 mentions land ‘in occidentali parte regionis quæ dicitur Mersuuare’.²³ Apparently tying in with this is an annal in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle describing Coenwulf’s ravaging the men of Kent and the men of the Marsh,²⁴ implying that they were regarded as separate polities.

The Rochester Bridge work-list makes seemingly much clearer and less ambiguous reference to lathes. It is a list of the aid which various districts were required to supply for repairs to Rochester Bridge. Material is ordered to be brought ‘of Ægelesforda. and²⁵ of ellan þam læþe þe þær to liþ’,²⁶ which a Latin translation²⁷ renders as ‘de Æilesforda, & de toto illo lesto quod ad illud manerium pertinet’.²⁸ The almost identical phrase ‘to Holinganburnan. and to eallan þam læþe’²⁹ is put into Latin as ‘de Holingeburna & de toto illo lesto que ad hoc pertinet’.³⁰ This evidence apparently provides a terminus ad quem for the formation of the lathe of Aylesford and reveals a lathe of Hollingbourne.

From this accumulation of evidence, lathes can be identified not only of the Limen, Wye, Eastry and Aylesford, which appear in the Domesday Book but also of Hoo, Rochester, Rainham, Faversham, Hollingbourne, the Weald and Romney Marsh. Witney identified the lathe of Rochester with the lathe of Aylesford³¹ but this still leaves unexplained the disappearance of as many as six other lathes by 1086.

An answer was provided by Jolliffe, who noticed that the Domesday Book assessed the lathes for public burdens at a round number of sulungs,³² either eighty or one hundred and sixty.³³ He identified thirteen historical blocks of land assessed at around eighty sulungs and each containing a royal estate. He proposed that these blocks were the original lathes, which later became merged. He concluded that ‘The primitive lathe was probably one of 80 sulungs in east Kent and 160 in west Kent’.³⁴

Joliffe himself summarised his findings in tabular form (see p. 86).³⁵

Jolliffe’s theory was hugely influential. He later developed it, laying great emphasis on the presence of a royal estate in each of these eighty-sulung groups³⁶ and ultimately concluding that the lathe was part of a system of administration introduced to England ready-made from the continent by the earliest Jutish settlers.³⁷

Jolliffe’s study has been more influential than it deserves, for it contains a fatal and (frankly) elementary flaw. He assumed that the assessment of sulungs in the Domesday Book was an accurate record of the Kentish sulungs in the seventh century, yet among authentic pre-Conquest charters not a single one assesses an estate at the same number of sulungs as in the Domesday Book, generally having many more sulungs. Jolliffe even made mathematical errors in his calculations, with the result that the breakdown of the lathes into eighty-sulung groups is not as neat as he made it appear.³⁸

Another vital point of his hypothesis was his assumption that any regio in any charter signified a lost lathe (hence his inclusion of blocks based on Rainham and Faversham). However, he missed a few, for he did not include in his reasoning certain charters which located property ‘in regione quae uocatur cert’,³⁹ ‘in regione qui dicitur bi Northanuude’,⁴⁰ ‘in regione uocabulo bromheg’⁴¹ and ‘in regione quae dicitur westan widde’.⁴² According to Jolliffe’s reasoning, this should mean that there were lathes of Chart, Blean Wood, Bromley⁴³ and Westwood but their inclusion would spoil even further the neatness of his design for the evolution of the lathes.

The year before the bishop of Rochester received land ‘in regione uocabulo bromheg’, another charter⁴⁴ granted the same beneficiary land simply ‘in Bromheg’. This makes it highly likely that ‘regio’ is simply expansive prose and not the technical term Jolliffe thought it was. One charter even describes Kent itself as a ‘regio’.⁴⁵ It would, therefore, be wise to read no more specific a meaning into the word than simply ‘vicinity’ or ‘area’. A more promising line of enquiry is the use of the term ‘wara’ for lathes or apparent lathes, both in the Domesday Book and in the earlier sources.⁴⁶ The use of this term suggests that these districts were thought of not as units drawn on a map but as groups of people, whose settlement was determined by the lie of the land. Perhaps, therefore, the origin of the lathes is to be sought not in royal estates and sulung assessments but in the interaction between population and geography.

The *Ge⁴⁷

*Ge before lathes

One of the east Kent lathes has a most interesting name. ‘Eastry’ means the eastern *ge, an archaic Germanic word, which in Old English is only ever found in compounds, never independently.⁴⁸ It also appears in Old Saxon compounds as –go or –ga. Cognate words are Gothic ‘gawi’ (region, country, environment), Old Frisian ‘ga’ (district) and Old High German ‘gouwi’ or ‘gewi’ (country, land). Its Modern German form is ‘gau’. It is even linked to Greek ‘χαος’ (emptiness).⁴⁹ A primitive meaning of ‘land(scape) or district on or surrounded by water’⁵⁰ has been urged, as has a derivation from primitive Germanic *awle (Old English ieg), island.⁵¹ The names of many of the administrative districts of medieval Germany and Switzerland were compounds formed from ‘gau’ and the name of a town.

Other *ge-names in England include Vange (fen-area),⁵² the hypothetical Ginges group⁵³ and possibly Dengie,⁵⁴ all in Essex. The best-known example is probably Surrey, the southern *ge.⁵⁵ Ely may be another example, if derived from ‘ælge’, which was later changed to ‘el-eg’, eel isle,⁵⁶ whence Bede derives it,⁵⁷ suggesting that *ge had dropped from usage before his lifetime. So archaic an element suggests that the lathe of Eastry might date back to a very early time, long before Bede.

Another *ge-name is the village of Lyminge, first recorded in 689.⁵⁸ If this name, meaning Limen-*ge, is an older name for the lathe of the Limen in which it lies,⁵⁹ this evidence precedes by thirty-five years the evidence of S 1180 as the first reference to the lathe of the Limen and suggests that the word ‘lathe’ may have superseded the archaic ‘*ge’ as the term for these districts. This raises the possibility that the lathes may be much older than the eighth century, whence all evidence previously considered came. A similar example is Sturry, now a suburb of Canterbury, the name of which comes from ‘Stour-*ge’⁶⁰ and is believed to be a previous name for the lathe of Canterbury.⁶¹

Another possible *ge-name is Denge Wood, near Chilham. It shares its name with Denge Marsh (which in turn Christened Dungeness), the marshland reserved to the use of Denge.⁶² Denge’s etymology is uncertain. It may derive from either ‘dyncge’ (manured or fallow land)⁶³ or ‘denu-*ge’ (valley area).⁶⁴

Watts, following Wallenberg, argued that Old English ‘dyncge’ would have been pronounced ‘dencge’ in the Kentish dialect.⁶⁵ This explanation, however, is not logical. If the meaning ‘manured’ is stressed, then it is just believable that a marsh would have been manured but not a wood. Admittedly, Denge Wood borders farmland but so did many woods in ancient times. They are not all called ‘Denge Wood’. On the other hand, if the alternative meaning ‘muddy’ is stressed, it is just believable that a wood would be called Muddy Wood (though again that hardly narrows it down) but is it likely that a marsh would be (tautologically) called Muddy Marsh? A meaning of ‘dencge’ is needed which does not have to go through the linguistic grinder through which Wallenberg had to put ‘dyncge’ to get ‘dencge’ (the history of the Kentish dialect is imperfectly understood and not all authorities agree that the Kentish pronounced West Saxon y as e before the tenth century) and which can be applied to both the wood and the marsh. ‘Denu-*ge’ is the only explanation to fulfil these requirements.⁶⁶

Denge Wood’s proximity to Chilham is most important, for Chilham had been a royal estate in Edward the Confessor’s time⁶⁷ and probably had been throughout the Anglo-Saxon period. Indeed, it may well have been the successor to a Roman or even Ancient British fortress.⁶⁸ Near Chilham, on a promontory overlooking the Stour, is a Neolithic long-barrow called Jullieberrie’s Grave. The coincidence of a prominent ancient landmark, a royal estate and a *ge-name suggests that Chilham may have been a meeting-place at an early date and, as a matter of fact, it is known that it was.

By the thirteenth century, the lathe of Wye was known as the lathe of Scray (an abbreviation of Sherwinhope).⁶⁹ The new name is first attested in 1240 and the shortened form in 1327.⁷⁰ The only clue for Scray’s location is a reference to one Math. de Scherewynghop under Chilham in the 1278 Assize Rolls for Kent.⁷¹ Scray must therefore have been a now-lost hamlet of Chilham, which ‘is easily accessible from all parts of the original lathe, roads converging there from different directions, and the meeting-place (of the lathe) may be looked for here’.⁷²

Wallenberg derived the name from ‘screawa’ and ‘hop’, meaning shrew (or, metaphorically, devil) and ‘piece of enclosed land in the midst of marshes or of waste land generally’. Ekwall argued, however, that ‘hop’ usually means not land within a fen but ‘a small enclosed valley, a smaller opening branching out from the main dale, a blind valley’.⁷³ If so, then the shrews’ hop might not have been a fen haunted by a devil but simply the shrews’ dean, perhaps the very denu which gave its name to the denu-*ge.

This identification of Denge with Scray and the identification of Scray as a later name for the lathe of Wye strongly suggest that denu-*ge was the ancient name for this lathe,⁷⁴ just as Stour-*ge was the ancient name for the lathe of Canterbury, Limen-*ge for the lathe of the Limen and easter-*ge for the lathe of Eastry.⁷⁵

The possibility that the lathes of the Domesday Book are a reincarnation of these *ges has exciting ramifications. First, it would allow the historian to date the system of lathes by dating the *ge-names. Secondly, if the rationale behind each of the *ge-names could be discerned, it would suggest the catalyst for the development of the whole system.

Dating *ge-names

Chronologically the earliest reference to any *ge is when King Æthelberht allegedly granted the vill of ‘Sturigao’ to the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.⁷⁶ Although this charter is undoubtedly a forgery, Sturry was indeed an early possession of the abbey and the antique form of its name is accurate. This has moved at least one commentator to suspect that the forgery may be based on older documentation (though not necessarily as old as Æthelberht’s reign).⁷⁷ Moreover, the charter says that Chislet is another name for Sturry (in fact, a separate estate of the abbey). If the forger’s source were a document which referred to Chislet as being in the Stour-*ge, his confusion would be explained.

This confusion is mimicked in four genuine charters, one for Reculver Abbey and three for Minster in Thanet, which use ‘Sturry’ ambiguously. The first (incidentally, the oldest original charter to survive) grants the abbot of Reculver ‘terram in Sturia’.⁷⁸ The next example describes its grant more helpfully as ‘in loco qui dicitur Sturgeh ... in his regionibus que hoc modo nominatur, id est in Sturige et ut nos solemus dicere ad aquilonis siluam ubi dicitur Maeccanbrooc’.⁷⁹ Another grants ‘terram que sita est in Sturige .ii. aratrorum atque .iii. aratrorum in loco qui dicitur Botdesham’.⁸⁰ These first three examples can be interpreted as referring either to the wider Stour-*ge or to Sturry itself and only the second even calls Sturry a ‘regio’, which could just as easily mean ‘in the vicinity of Sturry’ as ‘in the district of’.

The scribe of the fourth example, however, seems to be deeply confused. He describes the grant thus: ‘quandam terram que dicitur Stureie, id est decem manentes ex ea’.⁸¹ The scribe’s apparent attempt to clear any ambiguity about which interpretation he means suggests that at this time Sturry was mutating into a place name.⁸² This ties in with the apparent fact already noted that the meaning of *ge had been forgotten before Bede’s lifetime (see above). This allows an approximate terminus ante quem for the obsolescence of ‘*ge’ c.650.

In the Domesday Book, the Stour-*ge has been superseded by the lathe of the Burh but the eastern *ge seems to have enjoyed a longer existence. Two charters, one of 788 and one of 811, refer to ‘regione Eastroege’.⁸³ The latter refers to land near Folkestone ‘in regione Easterege’ but also refers five times to ‘on Eastorege’ and only once more to ‘regione Easterege’. This seems to be a tautology, for it literally means ‘in the region of the eastern region’. This is perfectly consonant with the hypothesis that the meaning of ‘*ge’ had already been forgotten by c.650, more than a hundred and fifty years before these charters were granted (alternatively, the phrase may mean nothing more technical than ‘in the vicinity of Eastry’).

Place-name evidence alone dates the *ges (and, thereby, the lathes) back to the early years of the seventh century at the latest. The reasons why the names of the *ges became attached to particular places may help to narrow this date down even further.

Causes of *ge-names

Between them, the Stour-*ge, eastern *ge, Limen-*ge and denu-*ge covered the whole of east Kent, so why did their names became attached to particular places? The obvious answer is that these places were of high importance, perhaps of administrative importance. Jolliffe emphasised royal estates as the great catalyst of district-development⁸⁴ and such estates have been treated as the central places of primitive districts in other parts of the country as well.⁸⁵ Certainly, early medieval kingship revolved around royal estates. Kingship (and, with it, government) was itinerant and, as it was to royal estates that people brought food-rents and where they petitioned the king for justice, such estates naturally became the focus of administration. One Kentish law-code refers to a wicgerefa in the king’s hall in London⁸⁶ and this official is likely to have been replicated in other royal estates.⁸⁷ This does not mean every *ge-name or other name implying a focus of authority betrays a royal estate, nor does it mean that one should be surprised by the many royal estates at sites which do not have such suggestive names but it does provide one reason why the names of districts might become attached to particular settlements.

Eastry was certainly a centre of some importance.⁸⁸ It lies on a commanding hilltop on the nexus of the Roman road from Richborough to Dover and of the pre-historic track from Sandwich to Wootton. Finds cluster on this road.⁸⁹ It is a short distance north-west of Finglesham, which is first recorded as Đenglesham (prince’s farmstead) c.832.⁹⁰ A short distance to the north of Eastry is Woodnesborough, Woden’s hill or barrow.⁹¹ Both Finglesham and Woodnesborough have been excavated, yielding princely burials respectively of the late seventh century and from before the conversion.⁹²

Eastry was anciently a royal estate. Symeon of Durham records that King Egbert I (664-73) had his paternal cousins, Æthelberht and Æthelred, whom he regarded as a threat to his throne, murdered ‘in villa regali quæ vulgari dicitur Easterige pronunciatione’.⁹³ Thunor, the princeps⁹⁴ who carried out the assassination, was swallowed up by the earth at a place subsequently called ‘Tunerhleaw’ (Thunor’s mound),⁹⁵ a name obviously pre-Christian in origin and strongly suggesting that Thunor was invented to explain the place name.⁹⁶ Such a place name suggests that Eastry was a cultic, as well as royal, centre and the close proximity of Woodnesborough makes the whole area hum with religiosity.⁹⁷ Despite the surprising absence of evidence of domestic habitation at Eastry before the eleventh century,⁹⁸ the burial group Eastry III⁹⁹ includes evidence of a horse and warrior barrow burial, probably a royal favourite or officer,¹⁰⁰ confirming Eastry’s role as a political centre of some kind.

Sturry boasts a high concentration of pagan burials, suggesting that it was an important site from an early date.¹⁰¹ Its position opposite Fordwich (a port controlling access to the Stour from the seventh century at the latest)¹⁰² would have added to its significance.¹⁰³

Lyminge had been a royal estate since before 689, when King Oswin referred to a cors at Lyminge (although it is not explicitly stated that it is royal) and spoke of land near Lyminge as ‘terra juris mei quae mihi ex propinquitate parentum meorum venit’.¹⁰⁴ In 838, King Æthelwulf granted to Archbishop Ceolnoth land near Lyminge Abbey, which ‘ad meam regiam villam ante pertinebat’.¹⁰⁵

By 1086, the lathes were no longer known by their *ge-names but by the names of their inhabitants. The Stour-*ge had become the lathe of the burh-wara. Why some men should have been associated with Canterbury is obvious, owing to that city’s great importance, dwarfing that of the former royal estate at Sturry. Similarly, there need be no alarm that the Limen-*ge has become the Limen-men’s land, for the two names have almost the same meaning. Like Lympne and Lyminge, this lathe is named after the river, after its dominant geographical feature. It seems to the present author probable that the Marshmen are an alternative name for the Limen-men (see above).¹⁰⁶ The only apparent exception is Eastry but even this may have gone through a phase of using a wara-name, for the earliest charter to mention Eastry¹⁰⁷ refers to it as ‘regione Eastrgena’. This is an Old English genitive plural inflection, literally translating as ‘region of the Eastry-ones’.¹⁰⁸

The hypothesis has already been asserted that Denge Wood and Denge Marsh attracted the name of the denu-*ge from respectively the wood’s proximity to the meeting place of the *ge and from the marsh’s reservation to the use of the people of that *ge (see above). The denu-*ge poses, however, an additional complication. Whereas the shift from the Limen-*ge to the Limen-wara, from the Stour-*ge to the burh-wara and from the eastern *ge to the lathe of Eastry is readily understandable, the denu-*ge had become the Wye-wara as early as the eighth century.¹⁰⁹ The question is, why should the denu-*ge have become the Wye-men’s land at all? In what sense are the Wye-men ‘of’ Wye if the lathe-court met not at Wye but at Chilham? Why are they not known as the Chilham-men?

A controversial derivation of Wye provides an explanation. Most previous commentators have derived Wye from weoh, an archaic word for an idol, leading to much speculation that it was this sacral role which made it the capital of the *ge (which it never was).¹¹⁰ Watts, however, derived Wye from *wiiz, which would have been an archaic name, presumably borrowed from the Britons, for the Stour itself.¹¹¹ If correct, this explanation would also be applicable to the Wiwara. In other words, they are not the men of the estate of Wye but the men of the *wiiz. As such, they correspond to the men of the Limen further south. This is made more credible by the fact that the Limen has a Celtic name.¹¹² If a Celtic name could survive in the Limen-men, then it could survive in the *wiiz-men. One last parallel with the other lathes is that, as in the cases of Stour-*ge/Sturry, Limen-*ge/Lyminge and easter-*ge/Eastry, the name began over the district, then fell back onto the estate, not the other way around, as hitherto presumed. The Wye-men are not named after Wye village but Wye village after the Wye-men.

Once again, therefore, the question must be asked, what was it about the estate that attracted the district’s name to it? Wye had been a royal estate since the eighth century¹¹³ and remained important throughout the Anglo-Saxon period. Another royal assembly met there in 845¹¹⁴ and a shire court in the mid-eleventh century.¹¹⁵ As in the cases of Sturry and Eastry, it may have been the estate’s significance that attracted the name of the district to it. Alternatively, it may merely be a coincidence. The men of the district and the estate might have taken their name from the *wiiz independently of each other.

The problem with these explanations is that traditionally Battle Abbey claimed jurisdiction (‘sake and soke’) over twenty-two hundreds, apparently coextensive with the lathe of Wye,¹¹⁶ by virtue of the manor of Wye, with which it had been endowed by William I. Why should this have been the case, if the similarity of their names were only a coincidence?

Despite the strength of this tradition, it may in fact be erroneous. None of the abbey’s authentic writs claimed such jurisdiction and the Domesday Book (the earliest authority for this arrangement) seems undecided about the truth of it, at one point stating categorically that the sake and soke of twenty-two hundreds did pertain to the manor of Wye, yet stating shortly afterwards that the value of the manor should be twenty pounds more than it is, if the abbot indeed had sake and soke over it.¹¹⁷ Although it is true that the abbey effectively exercised this jurisdiction over the lathe until the mid-thirteenth century, it might have been annexed to the manor by William himself (perhaps led on by the coincidence of names between lathe and manor, making this an early example of what would now be called rationalization). The Domesday Book does not say how far back the annexation dated and the earliest source expressly to state that it was an ancient tradition was written a hundred years later.¹¹⁸ The fact that royal control over the lathe of Wye was gradually restored, franchise by franchise, hundred by hundred, in the thirteenth century without the manor of Wye leaving the abbey’s possession¹¹⁹ suggests that the connection was not as strong as the coincidence of name implies. Finally, if jurisdiction over the lathe had indeed been annexed to Wye in antiquity, why did the lathe meet and always had met near Chilham?

The explanation why the names of the Stour-*ge, eastern *ge, Limen-*ge and *wiiz-wara became attached to the villages that now bear those names seems to lie in their status as royal estates. Sturry, however, probably ceased to function as a royal estate when Canterbury was re-occupied for that purpose after the archiepiscopal see was established there¹²⁰ (that Queen Bertha built her church outside Canterbury implies that there was no royal residence inside the city at the time).¹²¹ If Sturry’s *ge-name is indeed owed to its royal status, it must have acquired it long before the conversion. This ties in with the evidence of the alleged charters of Æthelberht which speak of Sturry as a district, rather than a village. If they were indeed derived from writings of the time, the Stour-*ge at least must have been fixed by c.600, leaving very little time for the other *ges to become fixed before the obsolescence of the word ‘*ge’ in the middle of the century (at the very latest). This drags the whole scheme back to before Æthelberht’s reign.

Geography as the catalyst of formation

There remains a complication. Although it was almost certainly the importance of an estate that attracted the district’s name to it, one must not forget which way around this worked: the name began over the whole territory and later retreated to the estate. It did not start on the estate as head of the *ge, then spread over the *ge and finally fall back onto the estate again. Despite the concentration of burials around the approaches to Eastry by c.600, the possibility remains that the royal headquarters shifted from estate to estate and ‘conceivably the district name was not associated with the village that we know as Eastry until after the archbishop of Canterbury had reorganized his properties there’ in the ninth century.¹²²

This is especially true of Lyminge. Although it carries the name of the *ge and had been a royal estate since before 689, Lyminge was never regarded as the head of the lathe (if that honour fell anywhere, then it was on Lympne, where Shipway Cross, the meeting-place of the lathe,¹²³ was situated). In fact, Lyminge is not even on the Limen. On the contrary, it is the source of the Little Stour, yet it has somehow managed to attract the name of the *ge. This suggests that the *ge-element does not necessarily signify that such-and-such a settlement, however royal, is the head of a *ge. As an alternative, Watts suggested that Lyminge may have been named after the Limen-*ge because it was the first place of importance to one who had crossed the border from the eastern *ge.¹²⁴

Lyminge demonstrates that it is not necessarily the head estate of the *ge which took the *ge’s name. Hence, it may be that it was the status of the estates as royal and not their status as nuclei of their *ges which caused Sturry and Eastry to take the names they did.

The *ges do not support Jolliffe’s contention that the lathes were based on royal estates. On the contrary, though the names became attached to royal estates, they are themselves lifted from Kent’s geography, the Stour, the Limen, the east and the denu. Even their post-Conquest names reflect this. The denu-*ge, Limen-*ge and Stour-*ge had become ‘Wiuuartlest’, ‘Linuuartlest’ and ‘Boruuar Lest’. They are not named after royal estates. They are named after groups of people, who in turn took their names from geography.

The shift from *ge, through wara-group, to lathe is best summarized in tabular form:

*ge	wara	Domesday Book lathe	Modern lathe
Denge (Wester?)*	Wiwara	Wye	Scray
Sturry	Burhwara	Canterbury	Saint Augustine’s
Eastry		Eastry	Saint Augustine’s
Lyminge	Limenwara, Merscwara	Lympne	Shipway
	Cesterwara?	Aylesford	Aylesford
		Milton	Scray
		Sutton-at-Hone	Sutton-at-Hone

* On Wester, see Appendix 1.

It is geography, not royal estates, that characterizes the *ges. The antiquity of the very element ‘*ge’ has already dated them back to Æthelberht’s reign at the latest. Such dating dovetails perfectly with the observation that all of the *ge-names seem to be concentrated in east Kent. There is none west of the Medway, the districts of which first appear in the Domesday Book.¹²⁵ These facts compel one to imagine the very earliest years of the Jutish settlement in Kent as the time of these districts’ development.

This poses a fascinating new line of enquiry but its vastness forces it to be left to another time. For now, one can only conclude that the kingdom of East Kent had become divided into four *ges, based on settlement around the Stour, the Limen, the denu or *wiiz and the easternmost part of the kingdom, before the arrival of Augustine. At the arrival of the Normans, however, they were no longer called ‘*ges’ but ‘lathes’ and it is on this development that the remainder of this paper will focus. What was the original meaning of ‘læð’ and when did it become the technical term for the *ges?

The Læð

‘Læð’ in the sources

There are four instances of ‘læð’ in Old English sources. One of them is post-Conquest and will be considered later. Of the remaining three, one is the record of a dispute in 973, when a royal assembly ordered the return of certain charters for land at Snodland to the see of Rochester. The decision was witnessed by ‘seo duguð folces on Westan Cænt ðær ðæt land and ðæt læð tolið’.¹²⁶ This usage of læð does not appear to denote an administrative district but instead pairs it with ‘land’, implying that ‘læð’ meant simply an estate, or at least had agrarian, rather than administrative, connotations.

The next example is taken from Hit becwæð, a list of oaths for declaring rightful ownership of disputed property.¹²⁷ The last oath in the list declares that the man who granted such-and-such a possession did so lawfully and rightly and the recipient repudiates any accusation that he covets another’s property: ‘Do swa ic lære, beo þe be þinum, and læt me be minum, ne gyrne ic þines, ne læðes ne landes, ne sace ne socne, ne þu mines ne þearft, ne mynte ic þe nan þing’.¹²⁸ The Anglo-Saxons were beholden to the use of nigh-synonyms in alliterative phrases. ‘Sake and soke’ and ‘toll and team’¹²⁹ are perhaps the best known examples, to which list ‘lathe and land’ should be added. One ought, therefore, to expect ‘lathe’ in this context to mean something similar (albeit not quite identical) to ‘land’.¹³⁰

The third source to use the term ‘læð’ is the Rochester Bridge work-list, of which a detailed examination is required. This is a list of the piers of Rochester Bridge, which states who was (or were) required to maintain each one and, in several cases, the manors from which the supply of that maintenance was to be drawn (whether in funds or in kind it does not say). Although it does not name the hundreds in which these manors lay, it appears to go through the manors in their hundreds as they are known from later evidence. It lists manors which are known to have been in the same hundred and then proceeds to another group (incidentally, dating the Domesday hundreds of Kent to before the date of this document).¹³¹

Almost all of the places specified in the work-list are in the Domesday lathe of Aylesford¹³² (only six of the manors of which did not contribute to the upkeep of the bridge). Yet the document uses the phrase ‘lathe of Aylesford’ to refer only to a group of these manors. Therefore, it must mean by this phrase something other than the 1086 lathe of the same name.¹³³

‘þonne is se feorðe per þæs cinges. and fiorðe half gyrd to þillanne. and sylla .iii. to leccanne. of Ægelesforda. and of ellan þam læþe þe þær to liþ’.¹³⁴ It then lists fifteen estates, not all of which have been identified.¹³⁵ A line has been erased from the Old English version but a Latin variant¹³⁶ provides the missing manors.¹³⁷ There is no implication that the manors named after the læþ of Æglesforda actually belonged to the lathe of Aylesford. They simply share with it the provision of the king’s contribution.

In contrast, ‘to Holinganburnan. and to eallan þam læþe’¹³⁸ is not followed by a list of manors. However, the Galba variant, in the place of the lathe of Hollingbourne, instead names the hundred of Eyhorne and then does recite a list of manors.¹³⁹ In Hollingbourne, there is an Eyhorne Street. This led Ward to identify the hundred of Eyhorne with the lathe of Hollingbourne.¹⁴⁰ Two of the manors, Boxley and Detling, listed after the hundred of Eyhorne, were in the hundred of Maidstone in 1086, a fact which led Ward to conclude that the scribe of the Galba variant must have been working from a pre-Conquest source.¹⁴¹

The apparent synonymy of the lathe of Hollingbourne with the hundred of Eyhorne makes it tempting to conclude that the term ‘lathe of Aylesford’ as used in the work-list is simply an old term for the hundred of Larkfield, in which Aylesford lay in 1086. However, if that were the case, why, in the list of manors which share with Aylesford in supporting the fourth pier, has the scribe bothered to include Wouldham, Burham and Eccles, all of which were also in the hundred of Larkfield in 1086?¹⁴² In the other cases where the whole hundred is invoked,¹⁴³ the manors are not specified, presumably because everyone knew which manors were implied. If the lathe of Aylesford were simply the hundred of Larkfield, why does the scribe repeat himself by specifying three of its manors? Something other than the hundred of Larkfield must be meant.

In the eighteenth century, the manor of Aylesford was exempt from the jurisdiction of the constables of the hundred of Larkfield. It was a hundred unto itself. Therefore, Ward concluded, the term ‘lathe of Aylesford’ in the work-list denoted the manor as a hundredal jurisdiction, on an institutional par with Hollingbourne/Eyhorne.¹⁴⁴

However, in the Galba variant, the scribe, having stated what maintenance was to come from the hundred of Eyhorne (i.e. the lathe of Hollingbourne), then did feel the need to spell out to which manors that pertained.¹⁴⁵ Ward calls Hollingbourne the chief of these manors¹⁴⁶ but it is hard to see why, because it is neither the first to be mentioned nor the largest amongst them. Boxley, which is first to be mentioned, owes seven and a half sulungs’ worth of aid, compared to Hollingbourne’s round six. This reflects the manors’ worth at the time of the Norman Conquest.¹⁴⁷ If the læþ were named after the premier estate, surely it should be the læþ of Boxley?

On the one hand, Ward argues that the need to spell out the manors in the original work-list meant that something other than the hundred was meant, yet he does not apply the same principle to the presumed Anglo-Saxon original of the Galba variant. If the need to spell out the manors implies that the lathe was something different from the hundred, then, just as it applied to Aylesford in the original work-list, so it must apply to Hollingbourne/Eyhorne in the presumed Anglo-Saxon original of the Galba variant.

The two meanings of ‘lathe’

It would be instructive to compare the phrase ‘to Holinganburnan. and to eallan þam læþe’ in the work-list to ‘þæs landes æt Holungaburnan and þæs þe þærto hyrð’ bequeathed to Christ Church by Æthelstan the ætheling.¹⁴⁸ The læð in the work-list stands in the place of the appurtenances of the estate in Æthelstan’s will. This suggests that læð in the Snodland charter and the ownership oath is not quite functioning tautologically but denotes the extension of the estate, the appurtenances, satellites and berewicks, such as would have pertained to a significant manor.

There is, however, a fourth Old English source, which implies a very different meaning. A post-Conquest document, preserved at Winchester,¹⁴⁹ listing the services incident to Taunton in Somerset, requests from the land at Bagborough ‘þreo motlæþu ungeboden on XII. monþum’,¹⁵⁰ amongst other services. All the estates in this charter have similar provisions, requiring the owner to attend court a varying number of times but the compound ‘motlæþu’ is a unique occurrence even in this document. The other clauses use the phrase ‘sacan gemot’, to attend court, to which one should see ‘motlæþu’ as an alternative construction. If gemot and mot correspond, then læþu must be the counterpart of sacan. Its underlying meaning is one of attending, of heeding a summons.

This seems to spoil the conclusion which had been drawn about the meaning of ‘læð’ but in fact there is little cause for concern. For one thing, whereas the Snodland charter, the Rochester Bridge work-list and the ownership oath respectively refer to, were written at, or were preserved at Rochester and its environs, the Taunton document refers to Somerset and was written (or at least preserved) at Winchester. As interesting as it may be to speculate what diverse meanings ‘læð’ might have had in other parts of the country, this paper is concerned with Kent before the Conquest and whenever the word is found in a Kentish context before the Conquest its referent is land, not jurisdiction.

More importantly, ‘motlæþu’ is not ‘læð’. The latter is an uncompounded masculine noun, which would be ‘laðas’ in the plural. The former is a compounded noun in the neuter plural, which would be ‘motlæþ’ in the singular. The words are similar in appearance but they are not identical and so need not derive from the same root. Indeed, their different meanings evince that they are different words, which have grown alike, not the same word which has developed two meanings.

Motlæþu should be compared to gelaðung, a congregation or assembly, from ‘gelaðian’, to call or assemble. The word is usually used with ecclesiastical connotations. An early eleventh-century glossary from Abingdon¹⁵¹ used it as a gloss for ‘convocatio’.¹⁵² Ælfric of Eynsham employed it in his homilies for the church as a body of believers,¹⁵³ including in his translations of the Creeds.¹⁵⁴ He defines it as ‘eal christen folc’¹⁵⁵ (all Christian people), while another homilist defined it as ‘alræ haligre heap and samnung’¹⁵⁶ (all the holy host and gathering). Any thought, moreover, that the Domesday Book’s ‘lest’ comes from ‘læþu’ rather than ‘læð’ is disproven by the Latin translation of the Rochester Bridge work-list, which directly translates ‘læð’ as ‘lestus’.

In a paper on the Kentish lathes, motlæþu is but an interesting distraction. The original meaning of ‘læð’ (distinct from ‘læþu’) is the appurtenances of an estate. As such, it is conceivable that it includes jurisdictional rights inherent in the estate (which may be the origin of its later, jurisdictional connotations) but its primary meaning seems to be tenurial. ‘of Ægelesforda. and of ellan þam læþe þe þer to liþ’ simply means ‘from Aylesford and from all the land belonging to it’. It is not a reference to a lathe in the later sense.

Nonetheless, the existence at the Conquest of two such similar words was apt to cause confusion and it is possible that the extension of the word ‘læð’ to whole districts owes something to læþu. The Reverend Richard Harris in the eighteenth century did derive ‘lathe’ from gelaðian and cited as an example of its fundamental, jurisdictional meaning the Bailiffs, Jurats and Community of Romney Marsh.¹⁵⁷ Incorporated in 1462 but descended from the twenty-four jurats appointed c.1252 to supervise the repair of walls and ditches in the marsh,¹⁵⁸ this body was also known as the lathe of Dymchurch.¹⁵⁹ It was still meeting in the church of that village in Lambarde’s time¹⁶⁰ and it may not be a coincidence that Dymchurch itself means ‘judge’s church’.¹⁶¹

Although this is a later medieval example, there is good evidence that the ‘læþu’ meaning had penetrated Kent even by the eleventh century. According to the Domesday Book, Sandwich ‘jacet in suo proprio hundredo’.¹⁶² Similarly, the Saint Augustine’s Survey¹⁶³ says that Sandwich is ‘hundred in seipso’.¹⁶⁴ However, the Domesday Monachorum elaborates, saying that Sandwich ‘est læth et hundretus in seipso’.¹⁶⁵

There was no lathe of Sandwich as such. Sandwich was a peculiar, administered apart from the hundreds of Wingham and Eastry between which it lay. The phrase ‘lathe and hundred in itself’ is tautological, emphasising the administrative independence of the town and flexing the new meaning of ‘læð’ as a fusion of geography and authority.

The only meaning that ‘læð’ can be proven to have had before the Norman Conquest was a territorial one, referring to a parcel of land, especially a unitary parcel, such as an estate (not necessarily an estate all in one place but nonetheless an estate under one lord). There was, however, another word, similar in form but probably of different derivation, which connoted jurisdiction. It could be used compounded with mot (or, later, on its own) to mean a court.

From which of these words did the districts of Kent take their technical name? The preponderance of the geographical meaning in Kent before the Conquest suggests that, if one must choose between them, the geographical læð is to be preferred. Nonetheless, the motlæþu usage was known in Kent by the late eleventh century. The lathes of Kent as presented in the Domesday Book may represent a fusion of these two usages: blocks of land, far broader than those for which læð had ever been used before, split among many different owners but united by a common administration.

When this shift took place it is hard to say but the Domesday Book implies that the English had started calling these districts ‘lathes’ before the arrival of the Normans. The Book initially introduces them as ‘Boruuar Lest’, ‘Estrelest’, ‘Linuuartlest’ and ‘Wiuuartlest’ (see above). These genitive phrases follow the preferred syntax of Old English by putting the possessor first (‘Borough-men’s lathe’ etc.), suggesting that they are the vernacular names of these districts. When the names of the last two districts are given in the preferred Latin syntax, as ‘Lest de Linuuarlet’ and ‘Lest de Wiwarlet’, they become tautologies, each saying the word ‘lathe’ (albeit in slightly different forms) twice. The writers (possibly even the commissioners) did not quite understand what the ‘-let’ inflection meant. They understood that ‘lest’ denoted a territory over which jurisdiction was annexed but did not realize that the word was already present in the districts’ vernacular names, leading them dully to repeat it.

conclusion

The lathes of east Kent had developed early in the days of the Jutish settlement. Their borders may have been fixed for a long time by 1086 but by the thirteenth century their organization had changed considerably (see Map 1b).¹⁶⁶ Not only had its name changed but the lathe of Scray had been merged with the half-lathe of Milton. The lathes of Eastry and Canterbury were merged and the resultant lathe was called the lathe of Saint Augustine’s, for its court met at that monastery.¹⁶⁷ Only the lathe of the Limen survived largely intact, though it too changed its name, becoming the lathe of Shipway.

Yet from this survey, three questions remain: first, what term did the Men of Kent use for these districts in between the obsolescence of *ge c.600 and the semantic shift of læð before 1086? Individually, they were referred to using a wara-name but what generic term (if any) was used to refer to them as institutions?¹⁶⁸ It has proven impossible to give a satisfactory answer to this question but a possible solution may be tentatively suggested by a surprising omission in the Kentish law-codes.

Space and the need to maintain a coherent theme prevent a full discuss-ion of the law-codes¹⁶⁹ but, as it happens, they do not refer explicitly to the lathes at all and their silence is suggestive. Even more so is the Rochester Bridge work-list. The territory responsible for the bridge is almost perfectly coextensive with the later lathe of Aylesford¹⁷⁰ and the maintenance of the bridge was evidently one of its official functions. It is striking, therefore, that the document does not refer to the district itself, either by name or by a technical term. Maybe this is because there was none.

It may seem surprising that the Anglo-Saxons apparently had no term for institutions of their own creation but why should they have? They did not write treatises on the origin or function of their districts. They simply lived in them and the sources tacitly presume their existence.

The second question is, what function did the lathes perform? Again, the Rochester Bridge work-list comes to the scholar’s aid by describing in detail one of the duties of one of these lathes. The maintenance of the bridge would have required officials or even a court competent to act throughout the whole district that bore the obligation. Indeed, it was in this form that the lathe of Aylesford would retain a real, practical exist-ence even into the twentieth century, for the manors listed in that docu-ment were still electing the wardens of Rochester Bridge until 1908.¹⁷¹ Information on the other lathes, their courts and their officers must be scattered throughout the documents of medieval Kent, yet to be harvested and reduced to order.

The third question is, how and when did the *ges form? This question would require a survey of the evidence of charters and law-codes and the archaeology of settlement too extensive for the scope of this essay. However, with the red herring of royal estates now removed and the *ges’ dependence on geography established, this present author hopes to return to this question and construct a new model for the evolution of the lathes compatible with this new understanding.

Appendix 1

The name of Eastry implies the existence of a western *ge.¹⁷² This was noted at an early date. In 1570 Lambarde said that Eastry ‘hath the addition of East, for difference sake, from Westrie (commonly called Rye) neere to Winchelsey in Sussex’.¹⁷³ It is a great pity that Lambarde does not cite his source, for he appears to have known of Wester and to have considered it the parallel of Eastry (though he may, like modern scholars, have merely extrapolated that from its name) but he greatly mistook its location.

The likeliest candidate is the lost hamlet of Wester, in the parish of Linton, south of Maidstone, close to the River Medway.¹⁷⁴ Surviving today in the names of Wester Hill, Westerhill Farm, Little Wester and Westerhill Road, the name first appears in thirteenth-century assize rolls as Westerey, Westerra or Westery.¹⁷⁵ In Middle-English, it was spelt Westre and so it appears in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century records.¹⁷⁶ This would have been pronounced ‘west-reh’, so the modern pronunciation ‘west-er’ is a mis-rendering of the medieval spelling. The correct pronunciation, as demonstrated by Lambarde, is ‘westry’.

Opinion is divided on whether this name derives from ‘westerra’ (place lying to the west), or from ‘westerra *ge’, the western district. The former explanation has to explain the acquisition of the –ey ending, which it does by interpreting the name as ‘westerly isle’, westerly because it lies in the south-western corner of the parish of Linton and an isle because of its high ground and close proximity to a river.¹⁷⁷ This is pathetic. It is hard to believe that anyone living on the edge of the high ground would have felt that he lived on an island and it is too fanciful to think that the inhabitants adopted such a name out of poetical sensibilities. Moreover, the first element ‘westerly’ would be intelligible only if the parish had existed at the early time when such an archaism as ‘westerra’ was still being used, which is unlikely.

This archaism does, however, lend strong support to the latter explanation. ‘Suðer’ in Surrey and ‘easter’ in Eastry are similar archaisms.¹⁷⁸ Combined with the equally archaic ‘*ge’, they make a believable pair. Wester Hill is now in the lathe of Aylesford, which bestraddles the Medway but anciently that river was the border between the two distinct polities of East and West Kent,¹⁷⁹ so, at the time when its name is likely to have formed, it would have fallen within East Kent. The Men of Kent would hardly have named a settlement within their own border after the neighbouring kingdom, so the western *ge cannot refer to West Kent. It must refer to something else, something that is within East Kent. That it was considered to be in the western province even though it was in East Kent suggests that the name (which, as already noted, includes two archaic elements) must have developed when West Kent was not part of the same kingdom, so before the reign of Æthelberht.¹⁸⁰ All of these considerations unanimously support the verdict that Wester Hill is named after the western *ge, an otherwise unrecorded fifth *ge on what was once the edge of the Kentish kingdom.

One sceptic of the derivation ‘western *ge’ argues that Maidstone would have been the obvious centre from which the settlement might take a directional name¹⁸¹ yet Maidstone is north of Wester Hill. The districts, he argues, would have to have been very large to justify calling it Wester to balance Eastry. These arguments miss the point that the *ge-name does not always become attached to the central estate (see above).

Why, then, did the name ‘western *ge’ become attached to this particular settlement? In the absence of records or archaeological investigation of the area, one must again resort to speculation and point out that (in another parallel with Eastry) Wester is in a prominent, commanding position, overlooking the Medway (at one time, let it not be forgotten, the border between two different kingdoms). The position, giving a sweeping view of Kent below, feels both all-beholding and unassailable, giving the impression of a place that was both dominant and defensive. At a guess, the likeliest function of a settlement here would be as a fortification against the Saxons of West Kent. It would have lost that function as the two kingdoms grew together. The lathe of Aylesford, by encompassing both sides of the Medway valley and uniting in a single administrative block what were once opposite frontier lands, demonstrates how redundant Wester Fort (if that is what it was) would have become, explaining the settlement’s early disintegration.

Adjacent place names support the notion that this area was once a focus of royal authority. The name of the nearby village of Yalding may mean ‘the leader’s people’¹⁸² It is first cited as ‘uuestaldingis’ in a memorandum¹⁸³ dated between 1072 and 1086.¹⁸⁴ Significantly, it is named alongside chintun, which Wallenberg identified with a Kyngtone, mentioned under Yalding in the Inquisitions post mortem of 1314. He suggested that this may be the East Yalding implied in the eleventh-century document.¹⁸⁵ It should in turn be identified with cincestune, said to be south of Wouldham in a list from the Textus Roffensis¹⁸⁶ of the slaves supplied to Wouldham from several royal estates in the mid-tenth century.¹⁸⁷ The accumulation of place-names meaning variously ‘the leader’s people’, ‘the king’s tun’ and ‘the western *ge’ within the same area cannot be merely a stunning coincidence but affirms that royal power once concentrated on Wester Hill.

What, then, became of the wider western *ge? Why has it left no trace, except a single settlement of which itself barely any record survives? The simplest explanation for the western *ge’s disappearance is that it was an alternative name for the denu-*ge. The fact that Wester Hill and Denge Wood are twenty-two miles away from each other at opposite ends of the district is irrelevant. As demonstrated by Lyminge, the *ge-name can become attached to a surprisingly arbitrary, even peripheral, settlement. The real problem with this supposition is that it is only a supposition. An alternative possibility is that the western *ge was a fifth district of East Kent, the neighbour of the denu-*ge but, in the absence of any explicit evidence for a fifth district, this is even more suppositious.

Appendix 2

Brooks’s model:¹⁸⁸

D.B. lathe	Royal vill	ge	wara	monastery	regio
Wiwaralæð	Wye (Faversham)		Wiwaraweald	Minster-in-Sheppey
Burhwaralæð	Canterbury	Sturry	Burhwaraweald	St Augustine’s, Minster-in-Thanet, Reculver
Limenwaralæð	Lympne	Lyminge	Limenwaraweald	Lyminge
Eastry	Eastry	Eastry		Dover	Eastry
Aylesford	Aylesford (Rochester)	Wester?	Cæsterware	(Hoo)	Hoo
Sutton (½)	Dartford
Milton (½)	Milton (Rainham)
			Merscware		Merscware
			Howare	Hoo	Hoo
	Rainham				Rainham
	Faversham				Faversham

acknowledgements

First, the author wishes to acknowledge the generosity of Keith Briggs who allowed him to see his paper ‘Early English region-names with the suffix -ia’ in advance of presentation.

Secondly, he thanks Terry Lawson, with whom he liaised over the production of this paper and who provided the maps of the lathes as they were in 1086 and as they are at present.

Thirdly, he is indebted to Nicholas Brooks, whom he consulted over his work on Rochester Bridge.

Finally, he would like to express his gratitude to Michael Lloyd with whom he twice toured the environs of Chilham and Denge Wood and thought great thoughts about them.

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Room, A., The Penguin Dictionary of British Place-Names (St Ives, 2003).

Sandred, K.I., ‘Ingham in East Anglia: A New Interpretation’, Leeds Studies in English, N.S. 18 (1987), 231-40.

Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon Charters: an Annotated List and Bibliography, Royal Historical Society Guides and Handbooks, 8 (London, 1968).

Sawyer, P.H., ‘The Royal Tun in Pre-Conquest England’, Ideal and Reality in Frankish and Anglo-Saxon Society: Studies presented to J. M. Wallace-Hadrill, eds P. Wormald, D. Bullough and R. Collins (Oxford, 1983), pp. 273-99.

Searle, E. (ed. and trans.), The Chronicle of Battle Abbey, Oxford Medieval Texts (Oxford, 1980).

Smith, A.H. (ed.), English Place-Name Elements, 2 vols, English Place-Name Society, 35-6 (Cambridge, 1956).

Smith, A.H., ‘Place-Names and the Anglo-Saxon Settlement’, Proceedings of the British Academy, 42 (1956), 67-88.

Stenton, F.M., ‘Types of Manorial Structure in the Northern Danelaw’, Oxford Studies in Social and Legal History, 2 (1910), 3-96.

Tait, J., The Medieval English Borough: Studies on its Origins and Constitutional History (Manchester, 1936).

Thorpe, B. (ed. and trans.), The Sermones Catholicae, or Homilies of Ælfric, 2 vols, The Homilies of the Anglo-Saxon Church (London, 1844-6).

Wallenberg, J.K., Kentish Place-Names: A Topographical and Etymological Study of the Place-Name Material in Kentish Charters Dated Before the Conquest, Uppsala Universitets Årsskrift (Uppsala, 1931).

Wallenberg, J.K., The Place-Names of Kent (Uppsala, 1934).

Ward, G., ‘The Lathe of Aylesford in 975’, Archaeologia Cantiana, 46 (1934), 7-26.

Ward, G., ‘King Wihtred’s Charter of A.D. 699’, Archaeologia Cantiana, 60 (1947), 1-14.

Ward, G., ‘Review of Pre-Feudal England: The Jutes’, Archaeologia Cantiana 45 (1933), 290-4.

Watts, V. (ed.), The Cambridge Dictionary of English Place-Names (Cambridge, 2004).

Welch, M., ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent to AD 800’, in The Archaeology of Kent to AD 800, ed. J.H. Williams, Kent History Project 8 (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 187-248.

Witney, K.P., The Jutish Forest: A Study of the Weald of Kent from 450 to 1380 A.D. (London, 1976).

Whitelock, D. (ed. and trans.), Anglo-Saxon Wills, Cambridge Studies in English Legal History (Cambridge, 1930).

Wright, T., Anglo-Saxon and Old English Vocabularies, 2nd ed., ed. and collated by R.P. Wülcker, 2 vols (London, 1884).

Wormald, P., The Making of English Law: King Alfred to the Twelfth Century, Vol. 1: Legislation and its Limits (Oxford, 1999).

endnotes

Abbreviations

ASC Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (ed. Plummer)

Bede, HE Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum (eds Colgrave and Mynors)

BCS (with number of document) Birch, Cartularium Saxonicum

CantStA (with number of document) Kelly, Charters of St Augustine’s

D.B. Kent, § Morgan, Domesday Book , ch. and section nos

LE Liber Eliensis (ed. Blake)

Rob. (with number of document) Robertson, Anglo-Saxon Charters

Roch (with number of document) Campbell, Charters of Rochester

S (with number of document) Sawyer, Anglo-Saxon Charters

VCH Kent Page, Victoria County History of Kent

WW col. (with column and line numbers) Wright and Wülcker, Vocabularies I

¹ Archaeologically, the inhabitants of west Kent seem to have had more in common with the Saxons of Surrey than with the Jutes of east Kent (Hawkes, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 74; Welch, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 209). It is therefore rational to treat them separately.

² D.B. Kent, §D.11 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 1b).

³ D.B. Kent, §D.25 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 1c).

⁴ D.B. Kent, §1.3 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 2c).

⁵ D.B. Kent, §12.4 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 14b).

⁶ E.g. D.B. Kent, §M.1 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 1c).

⁷ E.g. ibid.

⁸ E.g. D.B. Kent, §1.4 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 2d).

⁹ ‘Dimidio Lest de Sudtone’ (D.B. Kent, §1.1 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 2c)) and ‘Dimidio Lest de Middeltone’ (D.B. Kent, §5.115 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 9a)). In the lathe of Milton’s initial appearance, ‘dimidius’ is written as an interlinear gloss above ‘Lest’ (D.B. Kent, §1.3 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 2c)).

¹⁰ S 1180 (CantStA 47). The section concerned, however, may be a later addition (Kelly, Charters of St Augustine’s, p. 165).

¹¹ S 296 (BCS 449).

¹² Certainly by 839, when it is referred to as such (S 287; BCS 426), possibly by 762, if it be identified as the ‘Wyth’ of S 25 (CantStA 11). It is so identified by Wallenberg, Kentish Place-Names, p. 46, though without discussion.

¹³ S 30 (Roch 4).

¹⁴ S 125 (BCS 248).

¹⁵ S 128 (BCS 254).

¹⁶ S 169 (BCS 341).

¹⁷ S 27 (Roch 3).

¹⁸ Ed. Brooks, Appendix C, pp. 362-3 (see in bibliography under Brooks, ‘Rochester Bridge’). 1014, the date on which Hollingbourne was ceded to the church (S 1503, ed. Whitelock, Wills, no. 20; 1014 or 1015) may be the terminus ante quem for the document (see Brooks, ‘Church, Crown and Community’, pp. 4-5 and 14). A vaguer dating to the first half of the eleventh century is argued on palaeographical grounds (Appendix C, pp. 363-4).

¹⁹ See discussion, Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 72.

²⁰ Ed. Brooks, Appendix C, p. 363; discussed ‘Rochester Bridge’, p. 18, n. 35.

²¹ S 168 (BCS 335).

²² Found in London, British Library, Stowe charter 10 (s. x²). Birch prints it as part of his edition.

²³ S 111: ‘in the western part of the region which is called “Mersuuare”’ (ed. BCS 214; present author’s translation).

²⁴ ASC E 796 (= 798), ed. Plummer I, p. 57.

²⁵ Underlining signifies an expanded abbreviation.

²⁶ Ed. Brooks, Appendix C, p. 363.

²⁷ Ed. ibid., pp. 364-6. The translator’s reasonably good grasp of Old English suggests a date of c.1100 (ibid., p. 366).

28 Ed. ibid., p. 365.

29 Ed. ibid., p. 363.

³⁰ Ed. ibid., p. 368.

³¹ Witney, Jutish Forest, p. 41.

³² The sulung was notionally the land which could be ploughed by eight oxen: one sulung = four yokes = sixteen virgates (Jolliffe, ‘Hidation of Kent’, p. 613, n. 1).

³³ Ibid., pp. 613-17.

³⁴ Ibid., p. 617.

³⁵ Ibid., pp. 616-17. The measurement of sulungs is derived from the Domesday Book.

³⁶ Jolliffe, Pre-Feudal England, pp. 47-8.

³⁷ Ibid., pp. 73-97, summarized on pp. 92-7.

³⁸ Ward’s viciously scathing review in Archaeologia Cantiana, 45 (1933), is a detailed deconstruction of Jolliffe’s selective and uncritical use of evidence. Its points are gently summarized by Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, pp. 71-2.

³⁹ S 25 (CantStA 11; 762).

⁴⁰ S 26 (CantStA 48; 727).

⁴¹ S 36 (Roch 10; 779).

⁴² S 177 (BCS 348; 814).

⁴³ Such is the identification in Campbell’s edition but Wallenberg (Kentish Place-Names, p. 57) preferred Broomy Farm, in Cooling.

⁴⁴ S 35 (Roch 9).

⁴⁵ S 293 (BCS 442; 843).

⁴⁶ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 72, suggests that only where the reference to a regio is combined with a wara-name can a case be made for a lathe.

⁴⁷ Putting * in front of a word is a linguistic convention to indicate a hypothetical recon-struction, as distinct from an observed word.

⁴⁸ A radical, new suggestion on the meaning of *ge-names (or, as he would have it, apparent *ge-names) is made by Keith Briggs in a forthcoming paper for the English Place-Name Society, to be called ‘Early English region-names with the suffix -ia’.

⁴⁹ Orel, Handbook, p. 128.

⁵⁰ Bailey, ‘Some Observations’, p. 66.

⁵¹ Ibid., p. 65.

⁵² Smith, English Place-Name Elements I, p. 197; Reaney, Place-Names, pp. 174-5; Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 489; Room, Penguin Dictionary, p. 497; Watts, Cambridge Diction-ary, p. 641.

⁵³ Dodgson, ‘Significance’, p. 48; Room, Penguin Dictionary, p. 251; Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 332; for an alternative view, see Sandred, ‘Ingham’, pp. 235-6.

⁵⁴ Suggested by Bailey, ‘Some Observations’, pp. 70-1, though he does not de-construct its hypothetical derivation.

⁵⁵ Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 453; Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 590.

⁵⁶ Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 215.

⁵⁷ HE iv.19 (ed. Colgrave and Mynors, p. 396).

⁵⁸ S 12 (CantStA 8).

⁵⁹ Smith, English Place-Name Elements I, p. 197.

⁶⁰ Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 452; Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 588.

⁶¹ Witney, Jutish Forest, p. 41.

⁶² Everitt, Continuity and Colonization, p. 58. Denge Marsh is first recorded in 774 (S 111). By the same process, Burmarsh is so called because it is the marsh of the burh (i.e. Canterbury) (Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 76; Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 101).

⁶³ Wallenberg, Kentish Place-Names, p. 56.

⁶⁴ Smith, English Place-Name Elements I, p. 197; Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 153. He cites its earliest appearance in 1292. An alternative suggestion was made by Mills, Dictionary, p. 164, who derived Denge from ‘denn-*ge’, pasture district but denn-names are so common in Kent that, to yield a *ge-name, a more particular geographical feature is surely required. Moreover, considering how vast the other *ges are (anticipating the lathes of Lympne, Canterbury and Eastry), how likely is it that the whole of what would later be the lathe of Wye was known principally for its pasture?

⁶⁵ Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 183. Another authority (Room, Penguin Dictionary, p. 145), torn between the two interpretations, chooses ‘dyncge’ on the grounds that ‘there is no obvious valley here’ but he is looking only at Dungeness and does not consider the link with Denge Wood.

⁶⁶ This would mean that Denge Marsh was the marsh reserved to the use of the men of the denu-*ge. In turn, Burmarsh might have been the marsh of the Buruhwara, i.e. the marsh reserved for the use of the whole lathe of Canterbury, not just the city.

⁶⁷ D.B. Kent, §5.144 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 10a).

⁶⁸ Hasted, History, p. 126; Page, VCH Kent I, pp. 412-13 and n. 1. Hasted thought that Wihtred had had a palace there, a misapprehension apparently based on S 20 (CantStA 10; 699), a forgery purportedly granted at Cilling but this is not Chilham but a lost place near Graveney in Faversham (see discussion Ward, ‘King Wihtred’s Charter’).

⁶⁹ Cam, ‘Early Groups’, p. 102.

⁷⁰ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 241.

⁷¹ Ibid.

⁷² Ibid.

⁷³ Dictionary, p. 249.

⁷⁴ Ironically, Denge Wood itself is now in the lathe of Saint Augustine’s but the meeting-place of the ‘denu-*ge’ need only have been nearby, not in the wood itself, for the name to rub off onto it.

⁷⁵ Eastry was originally the name of the district and only later became attached to the estate.

⁷⁶ S 4 (CantStA 3; 605).

⁷⁷ Kelly, Charters of St Augustine’s, p. 16.

⁷⁸ S 8 (BCS 45; 679).

⁷⁹ S 10 (689): ‘in the place which is called Sturry ... in these areas which are called in this manner, that is “in Sturry” and, as we are accustomed to call it, “at the northern wood”, where it is called Makenbrook’ (ed. CantStA 40; present author’s translation).

⁸⁰ S 11 (690): ‘land of two sulungs which is situated in Sturry and of three sulungs in the place which is called Bodsham’ (ed. CantStA 41; present author’s translation).

⁸¹ S 13 (690): ‘certain land which is called Sturry, that is ten hides from it’ (ed. CantStA 42; present author’s translation).

⁸² Kelly, Charters of St Augustine’s, pp. 16, 148-9 and 151, thinks that all four of these charters consciously refer to the Stour-*ge, rather than to Sturry but the present author thinks that they may have been ambiguous even to contemporaries.

⁸³ S 128 (BCS 254) and S 1264 (BCS 332).

⁸⁴ Jolliffe, Pre-Feudal England, pp. 47–8.

⁸⁵ For England, see e.g. Chadwick, Studies, pp. 249-62, Cam, ‘Manerium cum Hundredo’ and Sawyer, ‘The Royal Tun’; for Northumbria, see Stenton, ‘Types of Manorial Structure’ and Jolliffe, ‘Northumbrian Institutions’.

⁸⁶ Hlothere and Eadric (c.673 x 685), clauses 16 and 16.2 (ed. Liebermann, Gesetze I, p. 11; ed. and trans. Attenborough, Laws, pp. 22–3).

⁸⁷ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 68.

⁸⁸ The abundant archaeological discoveries at and around Eastry are catalogued, illustrated and discussed at length by Dickinson et al., ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Eastry’.

⁸⁹ Ibid., p. 72.

⁹⁰ Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 180.

⁹¹ Ibid., p. 531; Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 697.

⁹² See in general Hawkes et al., ‘Finglesham Man’.

⁹³ Historia Regum, ch. 6: ‘in the royal manor which is called Eastry in the vulgar tongue.’ Ed. Arnold II, p. 9; present author’s translation.

⁹⁴ Historia Regum, ch. 3; ed. Arnold II, p. 6.

⁹⁵ Historia Regum, ch. 8; ed. Arnold II, pp. 11-12.

⁹⁶ The story may date in its present form from the mid-eighth century but possibly derives from pagan mythology (Dickinson et al., ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Eastry’, p. 3).

⁹⁷ Blair, Church, p. 57 and n. 182.

⁹⁸ Dickinson et al., ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Eastry’, p. 61.

⁹⁹ Represented by Maidstone Museum’s Cobb collection (ibid., pp. 30-56).

¹⁰⁰ Ibid., p. 73.

¹⁰¹ Witney, Jutish Forest, p. 47.

¹⁰² Hawkes, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 76.

¹⁰³ Welch, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 244.

¹⁰⁴ S 12: ‘land of my right which came to me from the affinity of my parents’ (ed. CantStA 8; present author’s translation).

¹⁰⁵ S 286: ‘beforehand belonged to my royal manor’ (ed. BCS 419; present author’s translation). See comment, Blair, Church, p. 186 and n. 16.

¹⁰⁶ Romney Marsh covers more than half of the lathe.

¹⁰⁷ S 128.

¹⁰⁸ Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 206.

¹⁰⁹ First hinted at in S 1180 in 724.

¹¹⁰ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 384; Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 541; Smith, English Place-Name Elements II, pp. 264-5; Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 86.

¹¹¹ Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 706. *Wiiz is an ancient Indo-European root denoting water. The same element appears in such river-names as Wear, Wey and Wye.

¹¹² Ekwall, English River-Names, pp. 243-6.

¹¹³ S 25 (CantStA 11; 762).

¹¹⁴ S 297 (CantStA 20).

¹¹⁵ S 1473 (Rob. 103; 1044 x 1048).

¹¹⁶ Cf. Lambarde, Perambulation, p. 257.

¹¹⁷ D.B. Kent, §6.1 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 11d).

¹¹⁸ The Chronicle of Battle Abbey, ed. Searle, pp. 76-8. The Chronicle was compiled in the 1180s (ibid., p. 9 and n. 6).

¹¹⁹ Cam, ‘Early Groups’, pp. 102-3.

¹²⁰ Hawkes, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 76.

¹²¹ Welch, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 237.

¹²² Dickinson et al., ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Eastry’, p. 73.

¹²³ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 368.

¹²⁴ Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 389. Incidentally, this hypothesis suggests two further points: first, that the border of the *ge must have been near Lyminge at a time when the term *ge was still being used (so before the seventh century); secondly, that a *ge could have a border proves that it was not merely a word for ‘vicinity’ or ‘area’ but was used for defined territorial units, corresponding to its usage in Germany.

¹²⁵ For the theory that West Kent began as a single district based on Rochester, the Cesterwara, see Brooks, ‘Creation and early settlement’, pp. 73-5.

¹²⁶ S 1457: ‘the leading people in West Kent, where the land and the lathe are situated’ (Roch 36; transl. Rob. 59).

¹²⁷ Found in Textus Roffensis, fol. 95 and in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 383 (London, St Paul’s, s. xi/xii), p. 89. The date and provenance of the original text are unknown but a date of c.1000 is suggested by its several Norse loanwords (not necessarily including læð – Norse and English are descended from the same mother-tongue and have many words in common) and by its possible connection with laws of Æthelred and Cnut concerning property transactions. See Wormald, Making of English Law, pp. 384-5.

¹²⁸ ‘Do as I instruct: you stay with yours and leave me with mine: I do not grudge what is yours, lathe or land, sake or soke; you have no need for mine, nor do I devise you anything’. Ed. Liebermann, Gesetze I, p. 400; transl. Wormald, Making of English Law, p. 385.

¹²⁹ On these, see Harmer, Anglo-Saxon Writs, pp. 74-8.

¹³⁰ Strikingly, the phrase ‘læð and land’ mirrors the Old Norse poetic phrase ‘land ok láð’ (e.g., Fagrskinna, ed. Bjarni Einarsson, p. 94 and Danakonunga Sögur, ed. Bjarni Guðnason, p. 285) but more space than this paper allows is necessary to investigate this interesting lead. Sir Frank Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England, p. 502, n. 2, suggested that ‘læð’ in this instance was consciously Anglicized from the Norse word to provide an alliterative phrase. Wormald, Making of English Law, p. 385, suggested that the Norse phrase may have been adapted through Kentish influence and tentatively dated the Anglicization to Æthelred’s or Cnut’s reign. Robertson, Anglo-Saxon Charters, p. 367, also noticed the similarity but thought that ‘læð’ referred to the Kentish lathe in its geo-administrative sense.

¹³¹ Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylesford’, p. 17.

¹³² Westerham and Pinden were in the half-lathe of Sutton but these were manors of the bishop of Rochester, to whom Ward attributes their inclusion in the list (‘Lathe of Aylesford’, pp. 18-19).

¹³³ Ibid., pp. 14-16.

¹³⁴ ‘The fourth pier is the king’s, and to provide planks for 3½ poles and put 3 beams in position. [This is due] from Aylesford and from all the lathe dependent upon it’ (ed. Brooks, Appendix C, p. 363 and transl. Rob. 52).

¹³⁵ Identifications are those made by Robertson in her translation and those of Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylesford’, p. 20: Overhill, Oakley, Smalanlande (‘strip of land’, according to Robertson), Cossington, Dudesland (identified as Dode by Ward), Gisleardesland, Wouldham, Burham, Eccles, Horsted, West Farleigh, Teston, Chalk, Henhurst and Haven Street (or Hoden, according to Ward).

¹³⁶ London, British Library, Cotton Galba E.iv, a register of Christ Church, made 1285 x 1331, ed. Brooks, Appendix C, pp. 367-9. This shall hereinafter be referred to as ‘the Galba variant’.

¹³⁷ Viz. Linton, Loose, Stockenbury (in East Peckham) and Lichebundelond (Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylesford’, p. 13) (ed. Brooks, Appendix C, p. 368).

138 Ed. ibid., p. 363.

139 Ed. ibid., p. 368.

¹⁴⁰ ‘Lathe of Aylesford’, p. 19. Brooks, ‘Church, Crown and Community’, p. 14, suggests that the lathe of Hollingbourne may have been re-named the hundred of Eyhorne after it was bequeathed to Christ Church by Æthelstan the ætheling in 1014 (S 1503).

¹⁴¹ ‘Lathe of Aylseford’, pp. 19-20. Brooks, however (Appendix C, p. 369) believed that the Galba variant was based on a later medieval inquest, possibly made under Edward I.

¹⁴² Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylesford’, pp. 20-1.

¹⁴³ Hollingbourne, Hoo, and Gillingham and Chatham, which maintained the second pier and which would constitute the hundred of Chatham in 1086.

¹⁴⁴ Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylseford’, pp. 21-2.

¹⁴⁵ Ed. Brooks, Appendix C, p. 368.

¹⁴⁶ Ward, ‘Lathe of Aylseford’, p. 19.

¹⁴⁷ Hollingbourne was rated at six sulungs in both 1066 and 1086 (D.B. Kent, §3.3 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 4d)). Boxley was rated at seven sulungs in 1066 but five in 1086 (D.B. Kent, §5.102 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 8d)).

¹⁴⁸ S 1503.

¹⁴⁹ London, British Library, Additional 15350, fol. 27. The manuscript itself dates 1129 x 1139 but it preserves the text of older documents (Davis, Medieval Cartularies, no. 1042).

¹⁵⁰ ‘attendance [was demanded] at three court meetings in the twelve months without summons’. Ed. and transl., Robertson, Anglo-Saxon Charters, App. 1, no. 4 (1066 x 1086).

¹⁵¹ London, British Library, Additional 32246.

¹⁵² WW col. 126.23.

¹⁵³ E.g. Catholic Homilies, ed. Clemoes, pp. 192, 198, 415-16 and 465; Catholic Homilies, ed. Godden, p. 261.

¹⁵⁴ Homilies of Ælfric II, ed. Thorpe, pp. 596 and 598.

¹⁵⁵ Catholic Homilies, ed. Godden, p. 5.

¹⁵⁶ Old English Homilies, ed. Irvine, p. 171.

¹⁵⁷ Harris, History of Kent, p. 7.

¹⁵⁸ Tait, Medieval English Borough, p. 289, n. 2.

¹⁵⁹ Harris, History of Kent, p. 7.

¹⁶⁰ Lambarde, Perambulation, p. 182.

¹⁶¹ Ekwall, Dictionary, p. 155, suggests both dema’s church and Diuma’s church. Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 201, finds for the former derivation.

¹⁶² D.B. Kent, §2.2 (Exchequer Domesday, fol. 3a).

¹⁶³ The Saint Augustine’s Survey is that abbey’s equivalent of the Domesday Monachorum. Both these texts and many others were produced by religious houses around the same time as the Domesday survey, which, no doubt, inspired them. Both the Exchequer Domesday and these lesser, private Domesdays were based on the original manorial returns made for the main survey (Douglas, Domesday Monachorum, pp. 18-21).

¹⁶⁴ Ed. Douglas, Domesday Monachorum, p. 89.

¹⁶⁵ Ibid. and cf. fol. 3v. This is part of the earliest section of the book, written around 1100 (ibid., p. 1).

166 Page, VCH Kent, III, p. 180.

¹⁶⁷ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 491.

¹⁶⁸ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 72, after cataloguing the broadly coinciding references to laðas, regiones and wara-groups, concludes that the three terms ‘could be applied to areas or peoples of different size and different status.’ These coincidences are tabulated in Appendix 2.

¹⁶⁹ Law-codes survive from the following Kentish kings: Æthelberht (c.603), Hlothere and Eadric (c.673 x 685) and Wihtred (695). III Æthelstan (928 x 938), a post-unification law-code, was drawn up in Kent by an assembly of Kentish magnates. These are edited in Liebermann, Gesetze I, pp. 3-14 and 170 and edited and translated in Attenborough, Laws, pp. 4-31and 142-7 respectively.

¹⁷⁰ Brooks, ‘Rochester Bridge’, pp. 26-7.

¹⁷¹ Ibid., p. 26.

¹⁷² Not according to Dickinson et al., ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Eastry’, pp. 1 and 3, who interpret Eastry’s name as meaning the *ge eastwards of Canterbury.

¹⁷³ Lambarde, Perambulation, p. 126.

¹⁷⁴ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 69.

¹⁷⁵ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 139.

¹⁷⁶ Deputy Keeper, Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Deeds, pp. 313-14.

¹⁷⁷ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 139.

¹⁷⁸ Smith, ‘Place-Names’, p. 82 and Watts, Cambridge Dictionary, p. 206, finding for the ‘westerra *ge’ explanation, lay emphasis on this.

¹⁷⁹ Hawkes, ‘Eastry’, p. 81 and ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, p. 74.

¹⁸⁰ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, pp. 67 and 73-4; Hawkes, ‘Anglo-Saxon Kent’, pp. 74-5.

¹⁸¹ Bailey, ‘Some Observations’, p. 69. He also agrees with Dickinson et al. over Eastry’s being so called from its relation to Canterbury (ibid., p. 67).

¹⁸² Alternatively, it may derive from a personal name Ealda. Wallenberg, however, prefers the former explanation (Place-Names, pp. 168-9).

¹⁸³ London, British Library, Cotton Augustus ii. no. 36; ed. Douglas, ‘Odo, Lanfranc, and the Domesday Survey’, pp. 51-2; facs. ibid. opp. p. 48.

¹⁸⁴ Ibid., pp. 52-4.

¹⁸⁵ Wallenberg, Place-Names, p. 168, n. 2. Is it only a coincidence that Wester Hill is itself east of Yalding?

¹⁸⁶ Ed. and transl. Pelteret, ‘Two Old English Lists’, p. 493.

¹⁸⁷ Pelteret (ibid., p. 501) interprets cincestune as Kingston on the Little Stour, between Dover and Canterbury but Flight (‘Four vernacular texts’, p. 141, n. 38) argues from the fact that it is south of Wouldham that the lost Kingston near Yalding is more likely.

¹⁸⁸ Brooks, ‘Creation and early structure’, p. 73.

A

B

Map 1a. The Kentish Lathes according to Domesday Book (1086);

Map 1b. The Kentish Lathes as Revised by the Thirteenth Century. Based on maps in T. Lawson and D. Killingray (eds), An Historical Atlas of Kent, 2004.

Modern Lathe	Domesday Lathe	80-sulung group
Saint Augustine’s	Saint Augustine’s	Insula de Tanet, 80 sulungs
		Borowara, 79 ¾
	Estrei	Beusberg-Cornilai, 79 5/8
		Wingham-Estrei, irregular
Shipway	Limowart	Limenwara, 80 9/32
Scray	Milton	Milton, 80
	Wiwarlet	Wiwara, 80 5/12
		Fefresham, 79
Aylesford	Elesford	Hoo, 78 ½
		Holingaburne, 79 ¾
		Aylesfort (sic) west of Medway, 159 ½
Sutton-at-Hone	Sudtone	Achestan etc., 80 ½
		Bronlei etc., irregular