Welcome to Noble Blood, a production of I Heart Radio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Minky. Listener discretion is advised. It was six just a few days after Christmas, and the ground at the dueling field set up behind the Abbey de Saumarine de Champ's, was hard with frost. Thousands of people had poured in from Paris for the spectacle. They had been there since dawn, rubbing their hands together for warmth, watching the rising sun, waiting for the moment
the event would begin. Stands were erected on either side of the field, massive constructions with wooden rails and staircases. One stand was for foreign nobles visiting France. They were of course seated according to rank. A second stand was for members of the French court. The third set of stands, the most central, was reserved for the King himself, the young Charles the sixth, and his highest ranking nobility. He had insisted that the duel be delayed until his return
from Flanders so he could witness it. Beneath the stands for the nobility were benches for merchants and commoners, although most of them were forced to stand at ground level, face to face with the wooden wall that had been built around the dueling arena. They tried to find a spot where they could see through the planks of wood. The dueling grounds, in a suburb of Paris, were originally designed for jousting. They were specially converted for this singular,
rare event, a judicial duel. Two men had gone to court, and the court had been unable to deliver a verdict, and so the men were permitted to leave justice in the hands of God. It would be a fight to the death, and God's favor towards the surviving party would reveal who was innocent and who was guilty. The two men had originally been friends. One had served as the godfather to the other's first son, but years of bitter jealousy had ruined their friendship, and then the accusation of
a final, terrible crime would lead them here. Dressed in full armor, bearing lances, axes, swords and daggers, ready to kill and ready to die, the men took their oaths on chairs, facing one another. The crowd remained silent. Interruptions to the duel of any kind, exclamations, shouts, even involuntary gasps or coughs were forbidden. On pain of losing a hand. This was a spectacle, yes, but it was also a
legal proceeding. It was God's will speaking through swords. The men agreed to the terms and gave their final silent prayers and mounted their horses. A page shouted for them to ride, and the duel began. I'm Danis Schwartz, and this is noble blood. A quick note before this podcast begins in earnest. This story includes references to alleged sexual assault. Just heads up for any listeners who might be particularly sensitive to that content. The France of the hundreds wasn't
the same as the France we have today. It was about a third of its modern size, and less a united country than a loosely connected group of individual fiefdoms which were ruled over by minor lords. The minor lords were then in turn ruled over by overlords. The former were knights and squires. Overlords with larger land holdings would be counts or dukes, often members of the royal family. One of those duchies was Normandy, ruled over by the
Duke of Normandy. You might vaguely remember from a history class at some point, but in ten sixty six, Duke William of Normandy crossed the English Channel and defeated King Harold in the Battle of Hastings. He's now more commonly referred to as William the conqueror, sometimes thought of as the first King of England. But what people sometimes overlook is the fact that William, now a monarch rivaling the
King of France, still kept Normandy. For a century and a half, Normandy was in possession of the English crown. France was eventually able to win it back, but the land remained contentious, and when England crossed the channel to reclaim it again, some nobles Normandy sided with the English. But one incredibly old family that was always loyal to the French crown was the Carouge family, As his father's oldest son, Jean Carouge the fourth, was well placed to
live a respectable life among the courts of France. His father, Jean the third, was the French equivalent of an English Shire reeve or sheriff, and he was the captain of the fort at Bilam. Their family line was long, but it also carried with it a romantic and scandalous history. Rumor had it that a distant ancestor, a man named Count Ralph had fallen in love with a sorceress, meeting her in the middle of the night at a pool
in the woods. His indiscretion was discovered by his wife, and the next morning Ralph was found dead with his throat cut. Somehow, the scorned wife was never actually accused of the murder, but the very next day a mysterious red mark appeared on her face. A few months after that, she had a baby. When that baby, a son named Carl, turned seven, the same red mark appeared on his face. It was a mark that would carry down in the
family for seven generations. That first son was nicknamed Carl Larouge, Carl the Rhett, Carl Larouge, or Carouge, but that story was more a myth than anything. It didn't affect the family's respectability, and certainly no one considered it a portent of violence to come. The Carouge family had several fiefs that they controlled, and in turn they answered to the local Count of Perish. At the time Jean Carrouge the fourth took his oath of loyalty, the count was a
man named Robert. The young Jean swore to be loyal to him and as was traditional, he kissed the nobleman on the lips. But Count Robert died without any heirs, and so in thirteen seventy seven parish was inherited by his older brother, Pierre de Lanson. Pierre was himself his father's third son, and traditionally that would mean limited prospects,
but Pierre lucked out. His two older brothers had become men of the cloth, rising to the esteemed rank of archbishops, which was lovely for them but meant they couldn't inherit land or titles, and then the death of Pierre's younger brother, Robert meant that Pierre inherited all of his lands as well. The new count came down to Parchet and established his
court at Argenta, where Jean Carrouge dutifully joined him. Jean was given the mostly symbolic position of court chamberlain, a respect of role, and he quickly made friends with another of the new count's chamberlain's, a man named Jacques Lagree. Lagree was from a slightly less esteemed family. His father was a minor squire, but Lagree was well educated, which was unusual and which even led to him taking minor clerical orders. He was considered affable and usually noted as
being particularly strong and tall. He was also rumored to be a slight womanizer. Him taking minor clerical orders didn't forbid him from getting married and bearing at least a few heirs. Jean likes Lagree well enough that after he got married and had a son, he named Jacques Lagree the baby's godfather, a majorly important role in the thirteen hundreds. But Jean gar Rouge wasn't the only one charmed by Lagree.
Count Pierre almost immediately took a liking to him, honoring him with court positions and gifts, spending time with him. It was obvious to everyone in court that Lagree was the Count's favorite and that he would quickly be advancing in the political ranks beyond his title of chamberlain. Lagree was granted the position of captain at the fourth of m and the Count gave him an extravagant gift, an estate, a very nice estate called annual Fouqon friendships sometimes fall apart.
The two men, Jean Carrouge and Jacques Lagree, we're about the same age, and they have been more or less social equals until they weren't they're slow drift away from one another became even more pronounced. In thirteen eighty, when Jean was dealing with personal tragedy. Both his wife and his only child, the son that Lagres had once held
as godfather, died. Torn apart by grief and frustration and at his middling position in Count Pierre's court, Jean Carouge went off on a military campaign to try to bolster his reputation. Over the five months that he was serving under the king's command, John did manage to raise his profile slightly, and he became known as a respectable soldier. But also in the time of way, Jehan came to understand the painful truth of the risk he was taking
out on the battlefield. He had no living heirs, and if he died, the Carouge name would die with him, all of the property, the reputation that his family had built up for generations. It would disappear, inherited by someone else, someone with a different family name and a different family line.
So when Jean Carouge returned home after half a year away, it was with the determination that he would find a bride as quickly as possible, and he did a young woman named Marguerite de Thibe, likely still a teenager at the time. Marguerite was described by contemporary sources as being wealthy and very beautiful. The latter was a perk. The
former was essential for Jean Carouge. Though he had a good family name, he didn't quite have the wealth to match Marguerite in that regard was a perfect fit for him. Her family was rich, but their reputation was a little tarnished. His father was a Norman who had sided with the English in the fight against the French king. A marriage with the karuga Is, an old and loyal family, would
help bolster Marguerite's family's reputation. Jacques Lagree wasn't present at the wedding, nor at any of the celebratory festivities that followed, but the relationship between Jean and Lagree would soon become even more strained. In marrying Marguerite Thibeville, Jean Carouge was especially hoping that her dowry would include her father's lovely estate at Anneure Faucon. There was only one problem. Those lands had been purchased by Count Pierre a few years
prior for eight thousand livres. Jean tried to wrestle the lands back from Pierre, even going so far as to take him to court. The issue became so heated that eventually Pierre had to go to his cousin, the king, to once and for all established the formal written royal approval for the purchase of the lands. And here's the kicker. Perhaps you remember, Count Pierre had already given the land away as a gift to his favorite chamberlain, Jacques Lagree.
So the relationship between Jacques Lagree and Jean Carorouge at this point was bitter, and from this point on, the relationship between Jean and Count Pierre would be downright antagonistic. Over the next three years, the two men would be embroiled in legal battle after legal battle. After the death of his father, Jean would sue the Count again because Jean had been expecting to inherit his father's position as
captain of the castle at Bilm. After the death of his father, Jean sued the Count again because Jean had been expecting to inherit his father's position as captain of the Fort of Biln. That was traditionally how things went at the time, and for what it was worth Lagree had already been made captain of a fort, but disliking Jean Carrouge, the count passed him over, and the Count would spite him yet again when he would deny Jean permission to buy a few neighboring fiefs to expand his holdings.
All the while Jens resentment and jealousy towards Lagris simmered a very slight that Count Pierre made toward him, Jean imagined Lagres behind it, whispering in the Count's ear, influencing him against him. But even pre enemies can sometimes find ways to mend fences, and in thirteen eighty three, Jean Carouge and Jacques Lagree found themselves at the same party thrown by a squire named Jean Crispin. The two men
saw each other from across the room. They were both wearing their family colors, Causian red with silver accents and Lagree in silver with red. They shook hands and Jean politely introduced Lagree to his wife, Marguerite, for the first time. Lagree was charmed onlookers remarked how taken he had seemed by Marguerite. The next year, Carouge went on another campaign
to bolster his reputation. Though that military expedition itself was a failure, and Carouge lost five of his nine men along with a good amount of his money, he still came out fairly well in terms of his reputation. He was even awarded a knighthood on the field of battle.
Now Jean was technically higher rank than Jacques Lagree, who was still a squire, but John was also close to bankrupt, and by the time he returned to Parchet he was exhausted and resentful, especially once he became aware of how much higher Laguis Starr had risen socially in the time he was gone, and how much money Lagree had been given by generous noblemen. Jean was barely home a fortnight before he had to continue on to Paris in order
to collect his back wages. He left his wife, Marguerite, staying with his own mother, her mother in law, Nicole. It was during this brief trip that everything would change. Jacques Lagree would allegedly commit the crime that would send him and Jean Carrouge on the unstoppable path towards battle to the death. Marguerite recounted the story later on January eighty six, Jacques Lagree squire, a man named Adam Lovell,
knocked on the door. Typically, a servant would have answered the door, but Marguerite's mother in law was attending to business in the next town over, and she had taken most of the servants with her, and so Margaret opened the door herself to find Lovell, who bowed deeply and informed her that Jacques Lagree had come to call on her. Jacques knew that her husband was away, he loved her, and he wanted to see her. Marguerite told the squire that she had no interest in seeing Lagree, but Lagree
came forward anyway and forced himself through the door. He offered Marguerite money in exchange for sex, which she refused, and then Jacques Lagree raped Marguerite on her bed while his squire helped hold her down. He told her that he would kill her if she told anyone, and then he left and closed the door behind him. Marguerite was silent, drowning in the shame and terror, until her husband returned a few days later. She barely looked at him throughout
dinner and couldn't offer more than a word. The rest of the evening while they prepared for bed. Only after everyone in the house was asleep that night did Marguerite fling herself on to her knees at the side of her husband's bed. Weeping, she told him everything that had happened. Barely able to contain his rage, John summoned a group of his friends courtiers, including his mother and Marguerite's family. This was, after all, her virtue and their honor on
the line. Marguerite repeated her story exactly how it happened to the assembled group. Should you have told me a falsehood, Jan said to his wife, nevermore shall you live with me? Marguerite shook her head. Everything she had said was true. Then Jean said, stoically, the squire shall die. The brain trust of friends and family that John had assembled filed formal charges against Lagres at Count Pierre's court, but neither
Jean nor Marguerite went to the count in person. They were well aware that there was no chance that Count Pierre would ever rule against his favorite in favor of a man he hated, and they were right. Count Pierre dismissed the charges almost immediately, and so Jean Carrouge took
his grievance to the king. The King of France at this time was a young Charles the six a man we've talked about in this podcast, particularly in the context of the tragic Ball of the Burning Men, a party during which several of his courtiers would burn to death when their wild man costumes caught on fire. But that tragedy would still be several years in the future at this point, and it would be several more years after
that before Charles the sixth madness would emerge. At this point, he was just a young king willing to hear out the accusations from one night against one squire. The case met before Parliament on July nine, eighty six. Jacques Lagree, denying everything, outraged at the very accusation, hired a man widely considered to be the best lawyer of the time, a man named Jean the Cook. The Cook's notes are one of historian's main sources of details for the proceeding
of the trial. His notes also mentioned for the record that even though he was defending Lagree, he had doubts as to whether Lagres was actually as innocent as he claimed. Lagreise family perhaps also doubt being his innocence. Tried to get him to insist on being tried through the Church, which, because he was a cleric in the Minor Orders, would be his right. The Church probably would be more sympathetic to him and it would remove the option of deadly
trial by combat, But Lagris refused. He was innocent, he said, and he wanted to challenge the accusations against him directly. Before the men presented their cases, Jean Carrouge threw a glove to the floor, literally throwing down a gauntlet, challenging Lagree to a duel. Lagres picked it up, symbolically accepting. The king ruled that a trial by combat would only be permitted if the court could not come to a
definitive verdict. In the meantime, they heard the evidence. Adam Lovell and all of Lagree's servants testified, all defending their master against the accusations against him. When Jacques Lagree testified himsel elf, he talked about how Jean had always been jealous of him and how he was famous for having a temper. He said that he believed Jehan had made up this entire story, and threatened to beat his wife
if she didn't go along with it. Plus, it would have been impossible for him to ride that far fifty miles round trip in one evening in the snow, and besides, he had an alibi. I'm cross examination those last points hit a bit of a snag. Lagres admitted that a man of his resources and riding ability would in fact have been able to ride fifty miles round trip, even
in the snow. And slightly more damning, one of the men who was supposed to corroborate his alibi couldn't make it to court because he himself had been arrested in Paris during the trial, arrested for rape. But the most important testimony of all came from Marguerite herself. Mar Great was visibly pregnant when she took the stand, although because medical science at the time believed that a woman couldn't conceive from rape, that wasn't considered a relevant piece of evidence.
But the very fact that Marguerite was telling the world what had happened to her at all was considered powerful evidence. It would be scandalous and shameful to her family. Why would a woman ever go through all of this if it wasn't true? The court deliberated, and they came to their decision, or rather their nondecision, the case would be left in the hands of God. Jean Carrouge and Jacques Lagree would have a trial by combat, and it wasn't just the men's lives at stake. If Lagree was victorious,
Marguerite would burn at the stake for perjury. The duel was originally scheduled for November of that year, but King Charles demanded that it be pushed back until December twenty nine, when he would be back from a campaign in Flanders. He didn't want to miss what was quickly becoming the most exciting event of the year. Between the time that the trial happened and the duel would take place, both Marguerite and King Charles his wife, the young Queen Isabeau,
gave birth to sons. Marguerite's son was healthy, but the young Prince was ill, and he died just a day before the duel was scheduled to take place. Rather than shroud the palace in mourning, King Charles the six, perhaps already showing an early stage of madness, became frenzied. He demanded an endless dream of parties and festivities that would culminate in the massive event of the judicial duel. The stands were teeming with people, noblemen, both French and from
around Europe. Separate stands were built for women with specially made aisles to make it easier for ladies overcome from the blood or violence to excuse themselves. On the ground, peasants and merchants elbowed each other to try to get better views. Marguerite wore black and she sat in the carriage overlooking the field where the duel would be taking place. Her husband approached her moments before he went to the field. Lady, from your accusation and in your quarrel, I am thus
adventuring my life to combat Jacques Lagree. He said, you know whether my cause be loyal and true. Marguerite, knowing full well with this battle risked for both of them, replied, my lord, it is so, and you may fight securely for your cause is good. Both men that came onto the dueling ground from opposite sides, wearing full metal armor, each was armed with a lance, a long sword and at and a dagger. They each also carried with them a jug of wine, some bread coins to pay for
the use of the field. And a fodder for their horse on the off chance at the battle would require them to stop for the night and then start again the next morning. Sitting on throne like chairs on raised platforms, both men swore an oath in front of the silent crowd. This was a legal proceeding. Anyone who disturbed the duel by entering the field of battle would be put to death. Anyone who disturbed the proceeding by shouting or crying out
would risk losing a hand. So though the field was teeming with spectators, it was an eerie and silent place. Soon it would only be filled with the sound of horses, hoofs and clashing metal. Both men prepared, adjusting their lances, mounting their horses, and then a herald cried out, do your duty, and the duel began. They charged at each other, both with their lances drawn, and both broke their lances on the other's shield. They continued to loop around on
their horses, this time swinging their battle axes at one another. Lagree, the stronger man was able to get a killing blow with his axe to the neck of Caruge's horse, but Cauge, leaping safely from his dying mount, was able to kill Agrees horse from the ground. Now the men were facing off on foot with their long swords. Carug slipped and fell to the ground, and Lagree approached and managed to stab him in the thigh. But even bleeding and writhing
in pain, John was determined. Still on the ground, his thigh in open wound, he grabbed Lagree by his armor and pulled him off balance. Lagree fell onto his back, his armor two v to allow him to rise again. Now Jean Carrouge had the upper hand. He tried to stab Lagree through his metal armor, but the plating was too thick, and so Jean straddled his enemy and used the handle of his small dagger to break the face
plate on the front of Lagrez's helmet. With his sharp dagger inches from Lagree's eye, Jean Carorouge asked Lagree to confess what he did in the name of God, and on the peril and damnation of my soul, I am innocent, Jacques Lagree responded. Jean Carrouge didn't need to hear anything else. He stabbed Lagree in the neck and killed him. Stumbling, he rose to his feet. Have I done my duty? He asked? The court. Still shaking, he pulled off his
helmet and knelt before the king. For his victory, King Charles gifted him a thousand livres and an annual income of two dred livres a year. Still weary, woozy, and exhausted, caruge was cleaned up and he went to greet his wife. Together, they rode in the carriage to Notre Dame in Paris, where they knelt in prayer side by side to thank God for their victory. Winning the judicial duel would make
Jean Carouge something of a national celebrity. He would receive another six thousand livres in gold, and the king would give him a prestigious position in the royal household as a chevalier donner or a bodyguard for the king. It was a raise both in income and in social standing. If you happen to recall from the episode on Charles the sixth and his madness, later in Charless life, he would have an episode of madness in the woods, lashing
out at those around him. John would actually be one of those men who at the time managed to subdue him. Jehan would continue to try to get the estate a new le foucant again and again the estate that he had so desperately wanted for so long. But Count Pierre would never yield, and he would never forgive Jean Carrouge for killing his friend Jacques Lagree. As for Jacques, after he died on the battlefield, his corpse was dragged to
the gallows. He already dead, was hanged. Hanging after all was the sentence for rape, and by virtue of losing the duel, Jacques Lagree had been found guilty. That's the story of the bloody trial by combat between Jean Carrouge and Jacques Lagree. But keep listening after a brief sponsor break to hear a little bit more about how the story has been told throughout history. And on a quick personal note, I just want to thank everyone who's supported
the show and listened to it. I've had a wonderful year getting to create these stories and write them and read them, and I'm looking forward to being able to continue doing it in two. If you want to support the show, we have a Patreon, Patreon dot com slash Noble Blood Tales where I publish episode scripts for the episodes and also do mini series. I'm going over episode by episode with my friends of the Showtime show The
Tutors and the c W show Rain. Also, if you want to support me, I have a book available for preorder. It's a young adult novel called Anatomy, a love story about the dawn of surgery in nineteen century Edinburgh. And if you're interested sort of in the bloody history of this podcast, I really think it will interest you. Also, I think there are a few spots left on the common grounds Pilgrimage that I'm leading this spring to London
and Sussex discussing Mary Shelley and Frankenstein. I am so excited. It's an amazing company that I'm doing it with. It's a few days of just reading and walking and talking and writing. There's a link to sign up in the episode bio. The duel between Jean Carrouge and Jacques Lagris
was infamous. In the generations to come, there would be countless accounts of what had taken place, in addition to countless scholars and legal minds who attempted to figure out whether Jacques Lagar was actually guilty or whether he was falsely accused. Two religious chronicles recount a story about Marguerite on her deathbed confessing that the rape had actually been at the hands of another man. But those stories are just hearsay and conjecture, and there's no real evidence of that.
Even still, up until the nineteen seventies, the Encyclopedia Britannica published those claims in their account of the trial, which was described in their entry for the word duel. Even now, certain aspects of the story as it's retold aren't exactly true. Take the title of the brand new Ridley Scott film about this event and the book it was based on,
the Last Duel. Though this was one of the last major trials by combat, the actual last duel in France would be two hundred years later in fifte Noble Blood is a production of I Heart Radio and Grimm and Mild from Aaron Minky. The show was written and hosted by Dana Schwartz. Executive producers include Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. The show is produced by rema Ill Kali and Trevor Young. Noble Blood is on social media at Noble Blood Tales, and you can learn more about
the show over at Noble Blood Tales dot com. For more podcasts from I Heart Radio, visit the I heart Radio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.