 Thank you very much, Nicolael, and thank you to Leslie and the Organisers for inviting us to speak in this prestigious conference. Just like in the way that in the novel Name of the Rose, an existing book can sometimes tell us about existence for lost one. Sometimes the sources that we are consulting to find out about a standard building can tell us and alert us to the presence of a hidden one. ac ym mwy o'r gwneud i'r awr o'r cyfnodau ar y cyfnod, yn ddiddordeb ddyliadau o gweithio cyfnodol i gydag y cyfnodol gyda'r cyfnodd. Mae'n fwrdd ddim yn 1327, yn y ganddyn ni'n gweithio'r cyfnodau, yw'r hyn sy'n mynd i'r rhannu bod yr hyn sy'n gyfrifio'r amser o ymddangos yng Nghymru Llywodraeth Llywodraeth, ddylch ar y ddech chi'n gweithio'r llwyddoedd o'r llunion. ac wedi gwneud yn mynedig y fardd y bwysig cyddur unrhyw rydyn ni'n mynd i'r ddefnyddiaeth iawn ar gyfer y twbl hwn yma, y llun hefyd o'r lluniau â'r blaes ymydd y cwmhwyl eich ddweud o'r blaes yma. Felly wnaeth y meddwl bwysig yn mynd i'r trio, yw i'r caren arwain i'r ddweud y rhwng y fath, yw'r gweith ar y cyfnod bwyllt a'r cyfnod yn eich ffordd ymlaen. Felly, mae'n ni oedd y gallu gwahan o'r ddechrau i ddweud y morch yn y gwaith ar y gael, o'r cyfnod bwyllt y ddweud y ddweud, a'r gweithio i ddweud yn y cyfnod bwyllt ymlaen. Ond nid o'r ddweud sydd yn rhan o'r gweithio'n ddweud yma, mae'n rhan o'r gweithio i ddweud ymlaen, o'r ddweud o'r ddweud yn y gweithio'n ddweud. ..fos ymlaes i'r Ysg Elludion yma. Ymlaen i, un o'r ddweud y Won door... ..y yw un o'r tîm yn y ddiwedd o'r ddweud yn roi sleidio. Rwy'n meddwl i'n ei ddechrau. yn y llwyder o'r qur thatigiaethau... ..eg i'r hyn i ymddiffyn... ..y'u ddweud yn y holl y llwydo arno. Mae'r ôl i'r perkwyr... ..instod y ffordd hon yn gweithio... ..y'r oedd..] ni yn y cyflwyd y flwyddyn sy'n ei ddechrau. Mae'r newid hyn. Felly, yr wych wnaeth yw'n gwybod i'r ddeilogio o'r gwaith o'r llwyth roi yn ymgyrchol, oherwydd yn Llywodraeth yn ddefnyddio i'r ddweud o'i ddweud o'r rhan o'r llwyth i'r gwrthodau ar y ddweud, a'u felly dyfynu'n fwyf nhw'n gwybodaeth. As we'll see, most or possibly all of them were actually initially built for other purposes, were pressed into service as treasures with very little adaptation. Some were within the Tower of London, but I'm particularly interested, and there's been reference to this already, in the east range of the coast of Westminster Abbey. And finally, I'm going to say a little bit about the building known from the 20th century as the Jewel Tower, which reformed part of the Palace of Westminster. Much of my evidence is documentary, and it's a pity that why all the documents generally have more to say about the objects themselves than the places in which they were kept. The treasure itself, for obvious reasons, has generally not survived. As with some of the other speakers today, lost items can really only be evoked through a comparison with survivors in other collections. So I'll start briefly with the Tower of London, which, like other important royal castles, almost certainly contained a treasure that was used for that portion from very early in its history, if not from the very beginning. For example, as early as 1100, early chronicle sources speak of another world castle, the Winchester Castle, where it has, in the quote, a place where the royal to his hour sees cat, Water of the Tarnus, writing also of Winchester, says there was a huge area he crammed with hordes of coins. And sadly, in the Tower of London, this sort of early documentary confirmation, sadly doesn't exist, but it's certainly plausible that treasure, and here, to answer Tom's question, o dimlyn, both cash and precious goods, were kept in security. It's even possible to speculate, and castling speculation, that certain rooms inside the White Tower may have been originally intended for this purpose. By the beginning, I introduced us to the inner basement room, as a treasury in the 14th century. More recently, architectural historians have wondered whether the room that lies directly upon it might not have worked in the same way, even under the normals. It lies immediately behind a huge niche at one end of the big room, which I'll argue elsewhere may have been designed as an architectural setting for the royal throne. And our room contains a small square window-less space in the thick researchable wall, no larger than our cupboard, and certainly too small for a bed. So it would arguably make a perfect strong room, and indeed a prop cupboard for royal display at the main room. But what we'll be seeing through later periods is that there is a pendulum swing in royal usage between store and treasure in the Tower of London, and moving it elsewhere. And during the 13th century, there was a synchrofugal movement away from the Tower towards a new location, Westminster Abbey. The reasons why the end of the 3rd made it the first to happen to outsource the security of their treasure has still to be unclear. During their reigns, it's clear that the Tower was becoming increasingly specialised as a place for manufacture and stockpiling arms and arm, as well as a prison for political prisoners. Though I think it's difficult to imagine that pressures of space were so acute that they couldn't keep single small rooms as treasuries. More probable, I think, is that it was simply inconvenient for those charged with the treasure to have to rub shoulders on a daily basis with the armourers and the dangers. While this, in itself, doesn't explain why the treasure couldn't simply be moved into a palace at Westminster, that, for me, remains a mystery. But on the other hand, as we've already heard this morning, using monasteries as treasuries is part of a wider phenomenon. Leslie talks about her John Lodin's treasure-and-beast assertions of fountains, and some of you and others will know, since the late 12th century, the 9th Templar of London had provided kings and barons with a remarkably venerally granted fountain services, which included the storage and valuables. But possibly from the 1250s, almost certainly from the late 1260s and very certainly before the 1290s, a royal treasure was established within the coastal buildings of the Benedictine Abbey on Westminster. Documentary evidence from the end of the 13th and early 14th century suggests two possible spaces where this might have been. The undercraft, depending on those new chapterhouse, and the pits chamber, which lies immediately to the south of it at the all-end of the dormantry undercraft, which is a beautiful Romanesque space when one doesn't know it. Documentary references are admittedly incompletely, and they contradict one another in some important ways. In fact, there isn't any good reason why both worlds might not have been used, but the evidence for the pits chamber, as we assess it now, seems by far the stronger of the two. Whereever it was, I'd just like to spend a moment with an inventory of this treasure in 1299, because it gives a very evocative picture of what the world treasury in the Abbey was like at the turn of the 14th century. Underneath the pream wall at the top, the most illegible, is the first heading in Magnacista, the F, in the large chest labelled F, and the start item, a gold coriat from which two stones are missing in price at £125, where a note on the right-hand side of this is scribbled in later and notes that the Lord Otto de Gransson removed this from the Westminster wardrobe. The next two items in chest F are also coriants, and the fourth is a collar with pearls, all very consistent as items in precious personal ornament, but then the contents of chest F start to wander off the point into the world plate. A crystal picture given to the game by Countess of Cornwall, a silver and gilt flag, and within a few entries it's gone completely crazy. We have an ivory chest set for horn, which was once belonging to Saint Thomas Canterbury, and it goes on and said you look up here and where. And in other chests too, no amount of rationalisation can explain the contents. A cloth, which is called matamondi, a look of a golden charnt beginning in Andaluia, a small gold knife in a cold cauldron of stones. You get a sense of an extremely precious, but very, very badly ordered junk rope. But it's important not to lose sight of quite how precious we're talking. There's another indenture listing items bought from the Tarahundan into the alley a couple of years earlier in 1297. The first item alone, a gold crown with precious stones costing £4,000. To give some idea of value £4,000, we're building about a third of the whole of building Bomares Castle, a giant building from scratch, so it's a ridiculously high amount of money. But, when we've already heard this morning, this world treasury was a disaster. In the summer of 1393, officials realised that it had been blurred and a large part of the treasure had been taken away. Edward I then, fighting in Scotland, ordered the mayor of Andaluia, the constable of the tower to hold inquests through various wards of the city and the middle sex to identify the guilty, and at the same time, they had to get any of the treasure left behind into a place of safety. Events later showed that the robbery had happened around two months before it was noticed. When we're talking to the general, the keeper of the King's Wardrobe, Donald Drossard, had been very unendible tasked with going to Gaby to make his inspection of the inventory of what was left. And his record of this inspection is important, not just by accounting the scale of the losses, which amounted to £100,000, much of it in gold and silver cups and plates, but the cost, he described the normal procedure of getting into the treasury strongly. He was given the keys of the said treasury and a canvas pouch with its seal intact and unbroken by the coffer of the wardrobe, the one King's Order carried the same keys with him. And in the presence of several handovers, he took the intact seal off the pouch, took out the keys and broke the doors of the said wardrobe, and then, with these other people, he entered the wardrobe. Once inside, he found the treasure that had been broken into chests and coffers destroyed and many of the goods secretly carried off. So, the document states that the keys were not kept in the app, but one of the officials of the King's Wardrobe, as they have, to summarise the wardrobe is a very complicated subject. Basically, it's the department of the Royal Household responsible for staff buying staff, making the staff, repairing the staff and keeping the staff safe, or in this instance, not. That person would normally be traveling with the King, or he might be based other times in the Palace of Westminster. So, unless the monks had a duplicate set of keys, the idea that this was definitely an insun job seems to be a little difficult to uphold. Now, coming to the end of the story, there is enquiry to produce many answers, but their reports have several points in common. The robbery that was carried out by a gang, led by a certain Richard Puddicart, a discontent in general of Oxfordshire, but he had benefited from complicity or indiscretion from several of the iconic places. Including, actually, the keeper of the Palace of Westminster, just across the way, who was allowing some very dubious characters to make use of the Palace while it was the first because of his wars. And, famously, there's this near-contemporary image of Richard Puddicart, the music of the treasure. There's a marginal illustration, massively blown up here, in the manuscript of the Rochester-Floris Storyarder Town in the British Library. It might have been ordered that a Benedictine monk of Rochester had a particularly interesting showing that a single thief had been out of Thompshire, and thereby detecting blame away for his brother, Martin St. Westminster. But, nevertheless, this drawing has spawned a certain literature about the architectural detail of the treasury, if we can call it that. Does it show an octagonal bill built by the chapterhouse basement, or a simple rectangular one by the White Pets Chamber? All the pointed arches in the sketch compatible with the room and ex-architecture of the Pets Chamber, and so on, and so stupid. It's worth making my point that the artist of the sketch was interested in showing the events rather than their setting, and he had no earthly reason to know what the treasure looked like. The proven course, I'm sure, is to treat the sketches of a lovely historical curiosity, and then to dismiss it entirely as a bit of architectural historical evidence. Though it sounds far fetched, the inquest determined that the thieves raided the treasury from the monastic cemetery on the eastern side, which they were able to enter repeatedly over several months to a small gate leading out of the Royal Palace. One entertaining detail common to several versions is that the thieves that sown hemp seemed close to the walls of the Annabilders, watching it grow in the spring into a thick shrubbery under cover of this, they were able to break into the treasure itself from outside of the building, almost certainly by widening the ground floor window, and excitingly, during a recent archaeological recording inside the gym of Westminster out in school, which actually abuts the eastern range of the medieval monastery, Timmington Brown has identified an area of disturbed masonry in the east wall, and there it is, where someone has dug into the foundations and someone else has come along and blocked it out afterwards, around the area of the former opening. Could this possibly relate to blocking up the whole made by Richard Parker-Cott? Yes, I think it could. The other slightly conical point which emerges from these inquest is that the 1303 wasn't the only time that the Abbey treasury could be burned. In fact, Richard Parker-Cott knew about the work of the treasury only because the previous year he broken into the Abbey himself, this time getting into the upper floor of the chapter house, using an adder that someone needed against the wall. His confession goes on to describing stealing valuable items of plain from cupboards behind the refectory door, but the treasury itself had already been robbed at least twice in its short life. In 1296, a certain John Cook was committed to Newgate prison for trespasses committed in Westminster Abbey in the King's Treasury there, and during the inquest into the 1303 theft, a third robbery in the Westminster treasury also came to light, this time from 1299, and it came out in the testimony of the jurors of Warbrooke towards Lutgate. Moreover, they said, the jurors have a great suspicion against the aforesaid monks, because four years ago this same treasury was broken into from inside of their monastery, and they will be under the door of the said treasury and towards the monastery. When this came to light, the Abbot paid the king a certain amount of money so that nothing more would be said about it. The 1303 robbery had several consequences for the story of the Royal Treasury, one of which was to cause the Warbrooke administrators to move the treasury back into the Tower of London for safety there. The conflict of institutions within the fortress certainly hadn't gone away. In fact, the continuing war in Scotland had certainly made things worse, and it's probable that for that reason the new treasury accommodation was rather improvised in the turret labelled deaf on this plan. The plans for the 16th entry inside have nothing to do with treasuries, so I've just used it for convenience. This is the building that we now call the Flint Tower, and it's described in a wardrobe inventory as a turret beside the east gable of the Great Chapel. The treasury stayed in this room from much of the rain available at the second. It's clear that a system of dual control was instituted in the Tower of London with some of the most important keys once again being kept off-site. The keys to the turret itself, the main front doorbond, were held by the officials of a completely different institution, the Exchequer, and these people would be based at Westminster and would come to the Tower of Stashley. But once they had opened up the tower, only the keeper of the wardrobe had the keys to the chests which contained the objects themselves, and once again these inventories revealed some wonderfully weird just positions. As an historian, I would love to have a rum which in the ordinary labelled C and D, if I could find it, had two titles, contained one of other things, a sapphire from the reliquary across Neath, that's a relic of the True Cross, a chest set, a mirror, a crown of the old style with 12 flurons, and a basket containing a charter different to the biography to Pierce later of Cornwall. That is the name of Pierce Gaviston, head with the Second Supposed Lofer. Later in the rain, after 1323, when Bishop Stapleton of Exeter undertook many normal overdue reforms, some attempt was made to impose order on this, and we read of several floors in the White Tower containing other elements of the treasury of the water, especially in the White Tower basement. That's when we read about the secret jewel chamber that we kept there. But, obviously it hadn't been completely abandoned as a location for the wardrobe, and probably within only a few years of the robbery, building works were undertaken, this time to create a truly secure treasury in the Pates Chamber in the eastern end of the Coaster. Most notable is the walling up of the northern part of the Pates Chamber under the day stare up to the dormitory. At the strengthening of the door, leading directly out into the east coast of Warwick, and now it had two doors, one opening inwards and one opening out, so that both of them could be locked from the outside. With two doors, and eventually six locks, this now became a very, very strong entrance. And surviving accounts of the King's Remembrance, particularly from the reign of Edward III, show clearly that the Pates Chamber from then on was once again heavily used as a treasury for exactly the same kind of storage that the Abbey had known in the first reign. From as early as 1330, an indenture referred to the keys of the treasury of Westminster underneath the dormitory. A few years later, there's a record that the Great Cran lay in a chest in King's Treasury within the Coaster of Westminster next to a chest house, and so on. Once again, we have evidence in some of the documents that there was a system of external control in operation, and the monks had no access to this treasure chamber. In 1330, it was stated that the key of the treasury is in a small coffer in the room of the chamber and in the exchequer of receipt within the Palace of Westminster over the road. Rather confusingly, the treasure was now split between treasuries in the Abbey and back at the Tower of London, the White Tower, and it doesn't seem to me to be any clear good rationale for which types of optic were kept in which place. Sometimes the crowns were at Westminster, sometimes they were at the Tower. Most of the vestments seem to have stood at the Tower rather than at Westminster. The documents and the relics, rather bizarrely, were not kept separately and were mixed in with all this other material. So, on this system of the situation of chaos, finally, in the second half of the 14th century, we have some imposition of order with at last what might be the construction of a surviving building intending for a treasury, intending for a treasury that was a structure, known since the early 15th century, as the Jewel House, and now called the Jewel Tower. This laid the end of the king's garden, the garden of the premium palace, which contained the residential buildings of the King and Queen at the south end of Westminster Palace. The Tower's constructions documented in 1365-66 under the direction of Master Mason Henry Henry, with the contribution of the carpenter who heard both of them earlier in their careers. The Royal Park, who supervised the works and submitted the account, was William Sleiford, a clerk and surveyor of works within the Palace of Westminster, that significantly was also entitled Keeper of the Jewels of Golden Silver Vestals within the Palace. And if that wasn't enough, he was also a dean of St Stephen's Chapel. It's a natural thing that scholars should make a connection between William's John as a keeper of treasure and the tower he built that almost certainly can't be used in this way, with generally interpreted as having been built specifically to store gold and silver plate. But recently an exception has been made, quite a reasonable one, that if we didn't come to this with a preconception that the Jewel Tower is built for treasure, we might well read its architecture differently. Its position at the corner of the King's Garden, the lovely Tiersaure in the vault on its ground floor, its large windows facing into the garden, and its impressive views from its flat roof over the palace and the river, all seem to fit much more meaning in some say, with thoughts of royal leisure and pleasure. Perhaps the Jewel Tower might have been built as a garden committee, perhaps one of several within the garden, and was made to have co-opted for treasure use. I have to admit, there's nothing in the original documentation that says anything about what the tower was built for. The earliest possible references come from the early 15th centuries, so 50 years on, in an account speaking of taking jewels in and out of a tower as a sign for them within the palace of Westminster, and only a century after construction do we see references to the present building as the Jewel Tower. But I do think there are elements of the building's design that favour the interpretation as a Jewel house from the outset. I'm not going to show you firstly because Lesley has already referred to it, but the Tiersaure in the vault, with its grotesque central bosses, fits very uniquely within an iconographic scheme that Lesley has pointed out of intimidating and grotesque sculpture within other treasure rooms. It's a very important piece of context. When we look elsewhere in the quite plain architecture of the building, there are other elements of this design that favour the interpretation of security. At the entrance to the top floor, for example, the surviving door, made bold to go almost certainly in the 14th century, was the inner of two doors. There was originally a second door opening outwards into the stairway. This could easily equate it to a system of dual control, with keys being held by two different people. Certainly, as you can hopefully see, it's very similar to the double doors of the world treasury around the corner in the Pitch Chamber. Perhaps the same concern for security can be seen in the original pattern of fenestration in the tower. The present building contains several windows introduced for the first time in the 18th century, when the tower was used as a record store. For the House of Lords, a natural light was obviously preferable to candles or mats because of the risk of fire. In the 14th century, the tower contained no round-floor windows at all, apart from one facing north of the garden. On the first floor, apart from other inward-facing windows, there were only two small windows, one facing south, the window in the middle of the three there, and one around the corner facing east. Only on the second floor was it being high enough to risk a few more windows, as well as the two. Here, there were three others around the corner, and the building account helpfully specified that all of these windows were protected by iron bars. All things considered, the survival fabric of the building and the building account do allow us to infer some kind of use for the different spaces within the building tower. All floors were similar in plan, with one large room and a smaller living room within the tower containing a latrine. Once again, I think that, as we've already heard this morning, some of the keepers almost certainly lived in with the treasure. The ground floor is the most ornate with the vault, and formerly with a very large fireplace and window, and this seems most appropriate as the office of the keeper of the king's treasure in which he dealt with items coming in and out, negotiating with goldsmiths over manufacture and repair. The architectural character of the rooms becomes simpler as one climbs up the building. The middle floor had some impressive features including a nice fireplace, but it was probably at least in the artist's store room, whereas the second floor was very functional in style. And also, with its double door to more secure, it was almost certainly here that some of the items in the highest value were kept. The final element of security in the June Tower was the excavation of a moat around the exterior. This was part of the original construction, and the account specifies that 23 ditches worked on it between 12 July 16th August 1366. The moat seems to have only closed off the area immediately around the tower itself, specifically on the northwestern south side, to the east that there was no ditch as the tower communicated directly with the garden. The account goes on to detail that a certain Thomas Balton member received 30 shows for connecting that ditch to an existing ditch that ran into the River Thames, and the account is explicit that the moat system was connected to the river so that high tide is possible for small bones to come up to a small random stage in the garden wall, which sadly is now covered by the modern road bridge. This future, I think, may be keen to our understanding of how the June Tower was designed to work, because looking at Edward III's itinerary, we see that around 1362 or 1363, a few years before the building of the tower, the King's use of Westminster Palace saw a marked decrease, and in general, it stayed no for the rest of the frame in the rather than a shoe or a Windsor or a couple of palaces in the southeast. By the time the June Tower was built, the King was unlikely to be staying for the brilliant hours for long periods, except on the occasion of parties, so the June Tower thus makes a bit more sense, because a distribution centre on the River Thames for sending objects out to other places, it relates to the King's absences more than to the stays of Westminster. So I'm going out of time, so just to draw a few conclusions from this, the survival corpus of structures in London cannot be representative. Even within the Tower of London of the Palace of Westminster, there must have been several secure repositories which we've now lost completely. Those that we still have, some of them originally built for other purposes, rather predictively do share certain architectural attributes, they are located, just more or lesser extent, off the beaten track. There's all some concern for control over their entrance and exit. There's a smart and lack of provision for comfort, but they don't show this to different degrees. The Picks Chamber actually laid the heart of a monastery. The June Tower had the trains and fireplaces and could be used as a denture. On the other hand, the various treasuries in the Tower of London can take records, arms and arm and store and of course prisoners. The documentary record, limited and contradictory, is key to identifying all of the spaces that I've been discussing today, but it's useful I think to hold the treasury function in mind when we're looking for interpretations of other, less well documented sites. So, if the Roedcastles of Portisdor and Rostorn, for example, and I've been chosen many hours, close to the main apartments, we find dead-end rooms without having to face the winders, lacking generally in the conflicts that normal royal residents would demand. Treasure houses, I think, could well provide the explanation for the design and configuration of these rooms. The way we remember that the whole function of the monarchy and aristocracy depended very much on looking the part at all times, on strengthening social bonds through the giving and receiving of precious goods. There was a clear need, a perpetual need, for spaces such as these, and for that they deserve to get the due recognition among all the other possible functions of royal sites in many languages. Thank you very much.