Everyday Phrases That Come From Medieval Times and are Still Used Today: Part 2

By Sir Percy (apparently now a regular contributor to this Blog)

Urgh, the fopdoodles asked me to do another one.

I want to be clear that I raised several objections. I raised them at considerable length, with footnotes, and in the formal register appropriate to a written complaint submitted to a castle administration - Castle Regulation 53(a) para. IV to be precise.

As per usual, the complaint was acknowledged, thanked, and filed. I then received a poorly written note from Jack saying "brilliant, Sir Percy, we knew you'd do it." The little knight had read none of my footnotes.

Outrageous.

Without further ado, five more phrases from the medieval period that the modern world uses daily without acknowledging where they came from, explained by the only person in this castle who was actually there and is clever enough to understand them.

'Throw Down the Gauntlet'

A gauntlet was an armoured glove. Heavy steel, articulated fingers, the kind of thing you wore because someone was trying to cut your hand off with a sword and you found this inconvenient.

If a knight wished to challenge another knight to a duel, he would remove his gauntlet and throw it at the other man's feet. The challenged knight could then either pick it up, accepting the challenge, or walk away and endure the social consequences, which were considerable and lasting.

To throw down the gauntlet came from literal knightly duels. If a knight wanted to fight, he'd throw his metal glove on the ground. Accepting meant picking it up. This was an excellent system. It was clear. It was decisive. It required no meetings, no consultations, no three-part email chain with a follow-up summary. One gauntlet. On the floor. A question answered.

'By Hook or by Crook'

The phrase first appears in the theological writings of the philosopher John Wycliffe, around 1380, and appears again in the English poet John Gower's 33,000-line poem Confessio Amantis in 1390, where "hepe", the medieval name for a curved billhook, and "croke", a shepherd's crook, are cited as methods of getting something done. Can I now comment that a 33,000-line poem is just utterly ridiculous, who has time to write that many lines.

In medieval England, commoners were allowed to collect firewood from royal forests under certain conditions. They could take as much wood as they could reach with a shepherd's crook and cut down with a billhook. Whatever deadwood they could pull down or cut off within those limits, that was theirs. By hook. Or by crook. By entirely legitimate means, within the law, using the tools available.

The phrase has since come to imply doing something by any means necessary, fair or otherwise. I find this deeply unfair to the original peasants, who were simply collecting firewood within the specific parameters granted to them by charter.

'Curry Favour'

I want to be extremely clear that this phrase has nothing to do with the spiced dish, which is a shame.

Our story begins in 14th-century France with a poem (yes another poem). About a horse. This poem, the ultimate origin of currying favour, is called Le Roman de Fauvel. Fauvel isn't just any old horse. He's a naughty horse. Maybe the naughtiest horse there ever was. The 3,820 rhyming couplets that make up the poem are dedicated to informing the reader in great detail of Fauvel's misdeeds and character deficiencies, which are many.

Fauvel represented deceit, and those currying, that is, grooming, him were flattering him for personal gain. To curry Fauvel was to be hypocritical, to flatter someone powerful in exchange for advantage. Eventually the phrase shifted in English from "curry fauvel" to "curry favour", the original horse entirely forgotten, the meaning of flattery for personal gain entirely preserved.

I have encountered a great deal of Fauvel-style behaviour in my career. Knights who were very pleasant to senior lords in public and considerably less admirable in private. Squires who complimented commanders on decisions they privately considered catastrophic. Entire tournaments where the congratulations bore no relationship whatsoever to the actual quality of the jousting.

Fire Pud curries favour instinctively and without shame. He will bring you things. He will sit near you with an expression of devotion. He will make himself very difficult to be cross with despite having, moments earlier, been directly responsible for a significant problem, like when he burnt down the stables.

He has never heard of Fauvel. He is, nonetheless, an extremely talented practitioner of the art.

'Baker's Dozen'

A baker's dozen is thirteen. Not twelve. Thirteen. In 1266, King Henry III appointed a legal body known as the Assize of Bread and Ale to regulate the sale of bread by quality, weight, and price relative to the cost of wheat. Any baker caught violating the laws associated with this body would be subject to fines, beatings, or even imprisonment.

So, in order to not be jolly well flogged, whenever bakers sold twelve loaves, they included an extra loaf as insurance that they hit the weight requirement.

Not generosity. Insurance. The extra loaf was there to ensure that even if one loaf was slightly underweight, the batch as a whole cleared the legal threshold and the baker cleared the court.

The Assize of Bread and Ale remained on the statute books in England until 1863. Nearly six hundred years of bread regulation. The Worshipful Company of Bakers, the guild that enforced these standards, still exists but they undertake a lot less flogging activities compared to the olden days!

The practice of adding a small extra piece, called the "vantage loaf" or "in-bread," continued within living memory. The medieval period, for all its considerable shortcomings, understood that you cannot run a functioning castle, or a kingdom, without someone monitoring the bread weights.

'Nest Egg'

By the fourteenth century the phrase "nest egg" was used by peasants to explain why they left one egg in the nest when collecting them from hens, it would encourage the chickens to continue laying eggs in the same spot.

One egg. Left behind. Specifically to encourage the production of more eggs in the future. By 1686, the meaning of "nest egg" had evolved to be used in the financial context, a sum set aside as a reserve, left untouched, specifically to encourage the accumulation of more.

The logic is identical. Leave something behind now. Get considerably more back later. Exercise the patience to not eat the egg that is doing the work of producing more eggs.

I have been attempting to build a nest egg for the castle's defensive infrastructure for several years. Every time I make progress, something happens, usually involving Fire Pud and accidental flame damage. That dragon needs a muzzle.

A Final Observation

These five phrases have something in common that I did not initially notice and that I am reluctantly prepared to admit is interesting. All of them are about persistence. Throwing down the gauntlet, committing to something regardless of the outcome. By hook or by crook, finding a way with whatever you have. Curry favour, managing relationships strategically over time. Baker's dozen, adding the extra thing that protects you. Nest egg, exercising patience for a future that isn't guaranteed.

The medieval period, it turns out, had a great deal to say about what it means to keep going when things are difficult, expensive, and considerably more complicated than originally anticipated. Jack, I notice, does all five of these things instinctively. Without footnotes. Without complaint. Without apparently finding any of it particularly difficult.

It is, I have decided, the most irritating thing about him. It is also, I will not be saying this again, something I find rather admirable.

Sir Percy, Knight of the Realm, Commander of the Castle - written under significantly less duress than the first time, which I will not be admitting but I will also be the first to admit I am starting to like the sound of my own voice. Chris do not scribe that last part.

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