The Perfect King (13 page)

Mortimer and Isabella did not want war. They had gone so far as to sign an embarrassingly one-sided treaty with France in March in order to make sure they would not have to fight in Gascony.
7
Lancaster, however, had good reasons to want the north armed and ready to fight. Bruce had demanded that the northern English barons give up their rights to their Scottish estates. In reality, the northerners had long since lost control of these lands, but they cherished their nominal rights nonetheless. Isabella could not persuade Lancaster and the other northern lords to surrender them. Thus there could be no lasting peace, and thus there would be repeated attacks on the northern marches of England by the Scottish king's men until the matter was resolved. Negotiations led by Lord Percy in February and March failed. In April, the army was ordered to muster in preparation for an attack. Mortimer and Isabella still hoped for a peaceful settlement but Bruce did not trust them. Moreover, he knew that, if they wanted peace, he could not lose by waging war. He would send an army to harry the northern counties until the English leaders bought the peace they wanted by recognising Scotland's independence.

The consequent campaign was arranged with more ceremony than strategy on the part of the English. Positions of authority went to all three royal earls - Lancaster, Norfolk and Kent - with Lancaster in overall control. But no one doubted that Mortimer was really in charge. He had considerably more
battle
field experience than the earls. Hainaulter mercenaries joined them at York, where a riot - which resulted in several hundred deaths - was only quelled by the king and his magnates riding through the streets to restore order. Edward could take a measure of pride in his appearance being the decisive factor in calming the riot, but the omens for the campaign were not good.

Still, this was his great opportunity, and he was determined to make the most of it. On i July he set out with the army and began the march to Durham, with trumpets sounding and pennons fluttering. Although the chronicler who recorded these details - Jean le Bel - does not describe the pennons in detail, they bore the arms of St George. This was not the first time St George had been adopted by an English army in the field; both Edward I and Edward II had carried pennons bearing the red cross on white background. But on that occasion the pennons had been mixed with those of St Edmund and St Edward, kings of England. This time, only the arms of St George were specifically made. Eighteen hundred of them were ordered to be taken to Stanhope. During the campaign, more were ordered, including some for the king's own trumpet. It seems Edward was calling the warrior-saint to stand by him, perhaps as an emblem of his prophesied status as a champion of God.

Unfortunately for Edward, the English forces were slow and cumbersome. The Scots by comparison were supremely manoeuvrable. Under the command of Sir Thomas Randolph and Black Douglas, they ran rings around the English force. Seeing they had been outwitted again, and not knowing whether the Scots were planning to attack the queen mother at Y
ork, or were in retreat to Scotl
and, one of the commanders ordered a sudden dash to the north to cut them off." It was an unwise decision, for it split the footsoldiers from the mounted men-at-arms. And the supply wagons were left far behind. By the time the English had regrouped at Haydon Bridge, on the River Tyne, many of the men were hungry, soaked with the heavy rains, tired, and starving. Worse, they had no idea where their enemy was.

At this point Edward tried to take control of the situation. He sent word among his bedraggled and downhearted men that whoever would tell him where the Scots were would receive a knighthood and an income of one hundred pounds a year for life. Esquires set out immediately in all directions. One, Thomas Rokeby, not only found the Scots, he was captured by them. When he told them of his mission they laughed and let him go. Rokeby returned to Edward and admitted he had been captured. Edward acknowledged his honesty and, true to his word, knighted him. Rokeby might have been successful in a most inglorious fashion, but he had given Edward the initiative he wanted. He also gave Edward the opportunity to demonstrate that the king intended to honour his promises. The king ordered the army to be prepared, and masses to be sung, and called for his confessor.

The army set out that morning. They passed the burnt-out ruins of Blanchland Priory and continued on towards the Scots' position. Edward was determined to do
battle
: his mind was fastened on what was required of a king. And the men around him, his bodyguard, would have been aware that this young man truly meant to fight, and that they were bound to fight to the death to protect him. At about midday, as they came towards a steep hill on the far side of the River Wear, the Scots army appeared, gathering themselves into battalions on the slope.

The tension mounted, on both sides. The Scots were in an unassailable position, but Edward was not going to hold back. More than just Scottish independence was at stake: Edward's self-esteem and personal authority hung in the balance. The English army drew up below the Scots' position, on the near side of the river, in readiness. Edward, on horseback, rode among them, calling out encouragement. This was unusual for an English king; his father certainly had not done likewise. But Edward wanted everyone there to see he was different from his father. He wanted men to see that he would willingly share their danger. Occasionally he stopped, and dubbed a man a knight there and then. Then he rode on, telling the men that, under pain of death, no one was to attack until the order for the whole battalion to move was given.

Then the advance began. The army moved forward in slow time, to see whether the Scots would withdraw. They did not. Closer and closer the English approached, die crosses of St George flapping in the wind before them, until the two sides were in arrow range, and they could recognise the nobles on the opposing side by their coats of arms. The Scots stared back. The English came to the river. Then Mortimer called a halt.

After the failure of a contingent of archers to break the Scots' position, Mortimer called off the attack.

Edward was furious. Who was Mortimer to give orders? And who was he to take away Edward's chance of glory? But the truth was that Mortimer was in control, and even he was nervous. His priorities were to keep the young king from danger, to drive the Scots out of England and allow them to pass back into their own country without great loss, so that they would sign a treaty. He could not see how he could attack the Scots in their present position without risking all these things; they had chosen a spot which was too well-defended. The young king had to be held back. To break the deadlock, Mortimer agreed to allow heralds to cross the river to ask the Sco
ts to fight a fair pitched battl
e, as the king wanted.

This move bought Mortimer time, but that was all. The Scots' reply was calculated to enrage Edward even further. 'The king of England can see we are in his land, and he can see we have burnt and pillaged wherever we have been. If the king is displeased, let him come and seek redress."
2
Edward's response was to camp exactly where they were. Although he could not go forward because of Mortimer, he would not retreat on account of the Scots. The English nobles spent an uncomfortable night in the open, in their armour, while the Scots banged drums and kept them awake, to demoralise them.

So began a long stalemate. Edward wanted to attack. Mortimer would not let him. The English lords were set to besiege the Scots in their well-defended position. This stalemate was only broken to be replaced by another, when the Scots suddenly left their camp to take up position in an even better-defended spot. The siege began again: the English weary with the wait, and Edward frustrated that he was being denied a
battle
in which to prove himself a man.

It was at this second site, still on the banks of the River Wear, that the Scots made their move. On or about
3
August, the English had placed their guard for the night as usual. But unknown to them, Black Douglas - the famous Sir James Douglas who was to die in Spain, flinging the heart of Robert Bruce into the midst of the enemy that was pressing his men on all sides - took two hundred men along the river bank and crossed
quietly
in the moonlight. The English camp was quiet and unsuspecting. Most Englishmen were asleep. Suddenly the Scots rushed in, slashing the ropes of the tents and thrusting down with spears on the sleeping men caught beneath the tangled canvas, ropes and poles. The leaders were sleeping in their armour, and were quickly awake, but they could do little to organise resistance, and many men were slain. Edward himself was badly shaken, for as he slept, Black Douglas cut the ropes supporting his pavilion. The plan had been to capture the young king, but one of his chaplains within his tent managed to conceal him, saving him from a terrible humiliation.
All through the camp the cries of A Douglas! A Douglas! You shall all die, English thieves!' rang out and caused terror. Then, as quickly as they had arrived, Douglas and his Scotsmen left the English to tend to their wounded men as they lay screaming, dying of their wounds, in the night.

The next few days were unremarkable in terms of military encounters. Black Douglas had made his point well: the Scots were in the ascendant because the English had too much to lose. Even the English and Hainaulters marvelled at the Scots' audacity. But for Edward it was a startling introduction to war. He had come close to being killed. He had seen and heard men butchered around him. He had seen the dead, their lifeless flesh, the grass soaked with blood. The sight was hideous, but in his comprehension of war and his duty, what he perceived to be required was not a man who would shrink from the sight of death but a man who would lead his men despite such horrors. So completely did Edward believe in his duty to lead a fighting nation, that he saw himself as the failure of Stanhope Park, and Douglas as the victor, even though the English generally saw themselves as the army which forced Douglas to retreat. When a few days later the Scots once more tricked the English, and escaped by night, leaving their leather cauldrons bubbling with stewed meat in a final insult to the army of King Edward, the young king broke down and wept. The tension had been great; the stakes had been high, and in all the suddenness of the Scots' departure it became clear to Edward that he had lost in every way. The Scots had succeeded in harassing the English and getting away without a
battle
. Mortimer had succeeded in stopping them invade England further, and in protecting the king. And Edward was as powerless as ever.

There was one small consolation in the failure of the attack on the Scots: Edward had at last been able to speak out against Mortimer openly and in full view of the leading nobles of England. They had all cowered under Mortimer's reply — Lancaster included - but just by speaking his mind Edward had distanced himself from the growing authority of this dictatorial Mortimer. When the court was informed in September
1327
that there was a rebellion growing in South Wales and Mortimer declared that he would leave court to attend to it in person, Edward can only have been relieved. He could not possibly have foreseen the depths to which he would
shortly
be plunged.

The court travelled from York to Nottingham, and from Nottingham to Lincoln. There, on
15
September, parliament assembled. Mortimer still had not returned, and Edward was able for several days to imagine that he was king in practice as well as in name. Many issues were raised -charters were confirmed, pardons were issued, terms of military service were established, taxation was discussed, the debts of the Crown were negotiated, and the franchises of cities reaffirmed - and no fewer than seventeen Acts were passed. Mortimer only returned on the fifth or sixth day. At the end of the parliament on Wednesday
23
September Edward could reflect that at last his authority was growing, and that perhaps soon he would be king
de facto
as well as
de jure.
But late that night a messenger, Thomas Gurney, arrived from Berkeley Castle. He was carrying two letters: one for the queen and one for Edward. His father, the late king, was dead.

Although Edward's relationship with his father had been difficult, it was not the man but his unsuitability as a king which had come between them. Had his father not been a monarch - if he had been a minor lord - he would have been able to enjoy a much simpler life, and he would have been far happier. But as a king, unloved as a child, expected to be a warrior and a leader against his temperament, and placed in a position of responsibility which he simply could not understand, his unhappiness and the unhappiness of his family had been guaranteed. Edward had witnessed the arguments at court and fully comprehended the depth of his father's failures of responsibility. But did these failures deserve to be punished with loss of royal status, liberty, and life? Edward did not think so. He wrote to his cousin, the young earl of Hereford, the next day, with the principal purpose of giving orders for the reinforcement of the northern border against a possible further Scottish attack, but he was unable to refrain from passing on the news that 'my father has been commanded to God'.

Edward could not have helped but dwell on his father's death. Natural causes? It must have been an illness brought on by grief, some said.'
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But the man was strong, forty-three years of age. Edward dared not repeat a suspicion that his father had been killed, but it probably occurred to him. On die other hand, his mother did not appear particularly grief-stricken even though she had been fond of her husband, and had sent him presents in his captivity at Berkeley. But since her liaison with Mortimer, Edward was not sure how to interpret her reaction. Mortimer himself gave nothing away. He gave permission for the abbot of Crokesden to c
ommemorate the old king's death
annually on
21
September, and allowed the prior of Canterbury to do likewise. But he refused permission to the monk Robert
Beby to receive Edward's body in order to bury him with his father, mother and grandfather in the church of Westminster Abbey.