It was in 1323 that the townsfolk sought, after a very novel fashion, to rid themselves of their oppressors. Their enemies accused them, whether truly or untruly we cannot tell, of having recourse to the black art, and strange rumours were afloat concerning the unlawful dealings of the citizens with one Master John de Nottingham, limb of Satan and necromancer, who inhabited a ruinous house in the neighbourhood of the town. Witchcraft was not then considered an ecclesiastical offence, but one against the common law, and it was, it seems, before the Court of King's Bench that the approver, Robert le Mareshall, told his story. He had been living, he said, with one Master John de Nottingham, necromancer, of Coventry. To whom, on the Wednesday next before the feast of S. Nicholas, in the seventeenth year of the King's reign, came certain men of the town, citizens of good standing, and promised them great profit--to the necromancer, £20, and "his subsistence in any religious house in England,"[111] and to Robert le Mareshall, £15--if they would compass the lives of the King and others by necromancy. Having received part of the promised payment as earnest at the hands of John le Redclerk, hosier, and John, son of Hugh de Merington, apprentice of the law, with seven pounds of wax and two yards of canvas, the magicians began their work. On the Sunday after the feast of S. Nicholas they fashioned seven magical images in the respective likenesses of Edward II., with his crown, the elder and younger Despenser, Prior Henry, Nicholas Crumpe, his steward, the cellarer of the convent, and Richard Sowe, probably one of the priory underlings who had made himself unpopular. As far as the last-named enemy upon the list was concerned--for upon him they chose to experiment "to see what might be done with the rest"--they were entirely successful. On the Friday before the feast of the Holy Rood about midnight John de Nottingham gave his helper, Robert le Mareshall, a leaden bodkin, with command to thrust it into the forehead of the figure of Richard Sowe. The effect was well-nigh instantaneous. When the necromancer sent Robert on the morrow to inquire how Richard did, the messenger found him crying "Harrow," and mad as mad could be. And on the Wednesday before the Ascension, John having on the previous Sunday removed the bodkin from the forehead of the figure and thrust it into its heart, Richard Sowe died.[112] Meanwhile the necromancer and the accused gave themselves up in court, consenting to plead before a jury. All, save the necromancer, were admitted to bail.[113] He no doubt looked to receive no mercy, and when after sundry delays the trial came on, the marshal certified that Master John de Nottingham was dead. Another of the accused, Piers Baroun, who had been a burgess at the Parliament of 1305,[114] died also during the interval.