The Perfect King (14 page)

From the
24th
or
25th
messengers carried the news that Edward II was dead across the country. Lords and knights leaving Lincoln after the parliament took the news with them on their return journeys. A huge canopied hearse was ordered for the late king, to be sent to Gloucester Abbey. Various knights and priests were detailed to join the bishop of Llandaff in the continual watching of the shrouded body from the time of its delivery to Gloucester until its burial. Eight hundred gold leaves were purchased for gilding a leopard onto the cover placed over the body.
Knightl
y robes and tunics were commissioned for the attendants.'
8
Four great lions were made by John Estwyk, the king's painter, who gilded them and covered them with draped garments adorned with the royal arms, to be placed at the four corners of the late king's hearse. Four images of the Evangelists were also built by Estwyk to sit on top of the hearse. Eight incense-burners in the form of angels with towers of gold, and two rampant leopards, were made for the exterior of the hearse. A wooden effigy of the dead king was carved, dressed in his robes and given a gilded copper crown. Oak beams were supplied to keep the crowds away from the hundreds of candles which were to be placed on and around the hearse. Armour, including two helmets, was purchased for the deceased king. Everything was packaged and transported by road to Gloucester, ready for the funeral, which was scheduled for
20
December.

In the meantime, Edward was jousting. At first, this seems incongruous, and somewhat disrespectful. The young king, having just lost his father, continued to follow his favour-ite pastime. But we must remember that Edward was no ordinary young man, and martial prowess was a duty which consumed him completely. Jousting was part of his education as well as a pastime. One can read just as readily that Mortimer ordered the tournaments to take place, to divert Edward's attention. It was a full three months between receipt of the letters announcing Edward II's death and the funeral. Life, with all its demands on the young king, had to continue.

On the day of the funeral, Edward, his mother, his uncles, and Mortimer were among the several hundred mourners who gathered for the late king's obsequies. Hundreds of candles burned on and around the magnificent hearse. High within its structure the crowned wooden effigy of the king was clearly visible, lying on top of the sealed wooden coffin, which encased the lead coffin in which the embalmed body lay. Isabella was given a silver vase with the man's heart inside, in accordance with her long-stated wish to bury his heart with her. As the monks of the abbey sang a mass, the royal family watched the coffin taken from the hearse and lowered into the tomb on the north side of the nave. The monks carried on singing for the soul of the departed man and the royal party withdrew. They stayed only for one night in Gloucester, and then left, travelling to Worcester, which they reached the following day.

Over the last three months Edward had come to terms with his father's death. He still must have felt a sense of loss, and not just on personal grounds, for his father was the only other man in England to have borne the burden of kingship. In those three months too he had grown more wary of Mortimer, who, if he had murdered his father, might equally turn against him. Mortimer had, after all, demonstrated how he could use parliament to remove a king, and then how he could have that ex-king buried without anyone publicly asking questions as to the manner of death, or even seeing the corpse. In this mixture of personal loss, fear, and growing responsibility, the next development in Edward's reign must have been utterly devastating He must have felt his whole world shaken. Shortly after the funeral, probably while journeying to Worcester, he was told that his father was not dead. The whole episode had been a fabrication. The letters sent by Lord Berkeley announcing the death had been false. Edward had been tricked.

Although we may now piece together the process whereby Edward, parliament and the rest of the country had been misled (see Appendix Two), we cannot know what the young king thought in the days and weeks after receiving this shocking news. However, it is reasonable to suggest that, along with the resentment towards Mortimer, he felt an element of self-recrimination. Mortimer had set the trap, but he (Edward) had walked blindly into it. As soon as he had been informed of his father's death, he had started circulating the news. On the very next day, in fact. Why did it never occur to him to check the identity of the corpse, to insist on seeing his father's face? But Edward was intelligent enough to realise that his mother and Mortimer between them would have prevented him from making sure. And his mother may well have suggested that it was in all their best interests that his father lived out the rest of his days in obscurity. It had been already agreed that the man should be kept perpetually in prison. But any relief Edward felt in knowing that his father was alive would gradually have been eroded by the disturbing implications of this news. Mortimer had power over his father. His father had been forced to abdicate. What if Mortimer were to turn against him? Edward would be exposed as having officially announced his own father's death and having su
bsequentl
y attended the funeral, when a false body was lowered into a royal grave. How on earth could he, Edward, do anything but support this upstart monster, Mortimer? He had not only been tricked, he had been trapped. And his mother was part of the plot. There was no one to whom he could turn.

On Sunday
24
January
1328
Edward met Philippa of Hainault, his bride, at the gates of York. It had been more than a year since he had last seen her, at Valenciennes, but the kind and pretty Philippa was a most welcome sight. She was practically the same age as Edward, probably eighteen months his junior. She was of the same blood, being his second cousin on his mother's side. Most important of all, she was temperamentally his ideal companion. She had a sense of humour, loved romances, and displayed a sympathetic understanding of people. Her wedding present for her husband was an illuminated collection of texts for aspiring rulers, including the 'Book of Julius Caesar' and the 'Government of Kings', and a book of statutes and music, with an illuminated picture of Edward in his favourite pose, holding a falcon: altogether a well-considered gift. Side by side they rode into the city, with the crowd celebrating in widespread and heartfelt joy at their union. Either the next day or on Tuesday
26th
they were married in the cathedral by the archbishop, William Melton, with Bishop Hotham of Ely in attendance, watched by Mortimer and Isabella and thousands of lords, knights, esquires, priests and citizens of York. The Hainaulters were as fervent in their celebrations as the English. Count William of Hainault, struggling with gout, had accompanied his daughter and his brother, Sir John, bringing a large contingent. Of course there were tournaments. Philippa watched as Edward fought, with the pennons of his chosen protector, St George, flying above him.

For Edward the wonderful thing about Philippa was that, for the first time, he had someone totally loyal in whom he could confide. Isabella could read his letters and Mortimer could spy on his conversations, but neither of them could come between him and his wife. She very quickly became his support in his struggles with the leaders of the regime. Although Edward could not reduce Mortimer's authority, he could obstruct his plans. Also with Philippa came a number of young pages and Hainaulter servants who owed no allegiance to anyone but her. One, Walter Manny, would prove a lifelong friend to Edward. When Edward's household officers were appointed by Mortimer, and when he had to entrust his secret business to men like John Wyard - a man who would one day betray him - he needed all the friends he could get.
29

Before the end of the wedding festivities, dark news was received in York. King Charles of France, Isabella's last brother, had died, leaving no heir. Since females were barred from inheriting the French throne, Isabella had no claim herself; but she could pass on her claim to her son. Indeed, with all her brothers dead, if Isabella wanted her dear father's dynasty to continue to occupy the French throne, she had no alternative but to make a claim on behalf of Edward.

As far as Edward was concerned, the French claim only added to his problems. In the parliament which met at York
directly
after the wedding, it became clear that Mortimer and Isabella were preparing to give up his sovereignty of
Scotland
. This would alienate his northern barons, and lose Edward part of his inheritance. More personally, his grandfather, Edward I, had fought long and hard for control of
Scotland
; it should not be given up without a fight. To Edward,
Scotland
symbolised everything that was ignoble about the government exercised in his name. He also knew that unless he made it clear that he personally did not agree to giving up Scotland, a large contingent of English lords would blame him, for not standing up to Mortimer.

Mortimer and Isabella were unassailable. On i March letters were issued in Edward's name which outlined the terms of the permanent peace. Edward had to renounce all his claims and those made by his ancestors. The borders of the time of Alexander III (d
.1286)
were to be recognised. All English lordships in
Scotland
were to become Scottish lordships. All English actions against the Scots at the papal curia were to be dropped. Most personal of all these insults to Edward's status was the clause about a royal marriage. One of his sisters would be forced to marry the heir to the kingdom of
Scotland
, David, the eldest son of Robert Bruce, a man whom most Englishmen held to be a traitor.
3
" To agree publicly with any of these terms would be humiliating. Edward began thinking about how he could make his disagreement publicly known.

Edward's quiet planning was given an unexpected boost a few days later. For the first time since the invasion, his mother, Mortimer and Lancaster all left him. On
2
March he issued a writ urging the sheriffs throughout the kingdom to assist his mother wherever she went on her pilgrimage. On
5
March the next parliament was summoned to meet at Northampton at the end of April. And then they began to depart. Mortimer disappeared off to Wales, probably with Isabella. Lancaster and his kinsman, Thomas Wake, remained with Edward until
8
March and left shortly afterwards. Edward was left in the keeping of the bishops of Lincoln and Norwich, Gilbert Talbot, John Maltravers (then steward of the household), William Zouche, and John Darcy.
34

This unprecedented departure prompts us to wonder what was going on in March
1328.
And we might well wonder, for one of the reasons why Mortimer left court was to attend to his business in secret. We might say that, if contemporaries did not know what he was up to, what hope have we seven hundred years later? It is like trying to find where a needle was in a long-since vanished haystack. But the problem is potentially very important. For another of the characters who disappeared from court at this time was the earl of Kent, Edward's uncle. He was away for the same period as Mortimer, and returned to court at the same time as him. This is interesting because these two men seem to have fallen out at this point. They had been close in France in
1325-26,
and Kent had married Mortimer's cousin, Margaret Wake. Kent had urged a gift of a manor to be given to Mortimer after the invasion; Mortimer had responded on
3
March
1328,
offering Kent some of Hugh Despenser's old lands. But thereafter there is no evidence of closeness between them, and later there was great hostility. The reason this is relevant to Edward
III
is that, at some point in
1328,
almost certainly before March, Kent discovered that Edward II was still alive.

This was the third great worry (along with France and
Scotland
) that weighed on Edward Hi's mind in the summer of
1328.
In
1327
there had been three attempts to rescue his father from prison: what if it were to happen again? Edward would then be entirely dependent on Mortimer to protect him. But how did Kent know? In
1330
he confessed that a friar had conjured up a devil, who had told him; but this was merely a ruse to cover up his true source. This was almost certainly Sir John Pecche, a man of fluctuating loyalty, who returned unexpectedly from abroad in about January
1328.
He was the keeper of Corfe Castle, where the old king was being held.

Edward, still only fifteen-and-a-half, was under huge pressure when parliament gathered at Northampton. War with France was being discussed. The independence of
Scotland
threatened England. And the earl of Kent's knowledge was potentially the greatest danger of them all. Disempowered by his mother and Mortimer, and separately undermined by his uncle, what could he do but try
to manoeuvre himself between th
eir contests, and look to his own safety, while trusting that others would speak out on his behalf? Lancaster, as head of the council of regency, did speak up. But he and Mortimer were so hostile to one another by this stage that Mortimer had no qualms about using Edward's name and authority to threaten his rival. When Mortimer declared outrageously that he spoke for the king, a
nd the king's will was that Scotl
and should be independent, Lancaster declared that this 'shameful peace' was none of Aw will. Mortimer stood firm, knowing Edward could not oppose him. As everyone was in some way compromised by, or afraid of, Mortimer, no one else followed Lancaster's lead. Edward was forced to ratify the treaty.