The Perfect King (16 page)

The situation would have been made clear to Edward on his arrival back in England. If we are right in thinking that Isabella was pregnant at this time, Edward would have been forced to grapple with that fact also. Problem after problem seemed to loom before him. And Mortimer, the architect of so many of these problems, seemed more confident than ever. That autumn he held a great feast at his newly rebuilt
castle
of Wigmore, at which he (Mortimer) played the part of King Arthur in the king's presence. The symbolism was unambiguous. Mortimer was playing the king himself in front of Edward, the real king. This was more than mere play-acting.

Although not yet seventeen, Edward realised he had to take steps to reclaim power. He decided that his first move must be to convince the pope of his integrity. A week after the tournament at Wigmore, he sent William Montagu to Avignon. The mission was secret: ostensibly Montagu was to see Otto, lord of Cuyk, whom Edward said he wished to employ.
But Mortimer was quick. On learning of Montagu's trip, he instructed his own man, Sir Bartholomew Burghersh, to accompany Montagu. Undaunted, Montagu did what Edward had bade him, and saw Pope John XXII. On the journey he may have been able to persuade Burghersh to c
hange allegiance, at least tacitl
y, for he was able to see the pope and tell him of the plight in which Edward found himself, and how the country was being run against his wishes by Mortimer and Isabella. Pope John told Montagu to return to England and let Edward send him a secret letter bearing a sign or cipher by which he could discern which letters to him came with Edward's blessing and which did not.

Sending Montagu to Avignon meant Edward was temporarily without his most trusted friend. But others were beginning to rally to his cause. Most important of these was Richard Bury, Edward's old tutor, whom he had managed to keep with him. Bury had been a cofferer in
1327,
and keeper of Edward's wardrobe from August
1328.
On
24
September he was raised to the position of keeper of the privy seal. This was crucial: it meant that one of Edward's trusted servants had custody of the means by which his personal instructions could be authenticated. It marked a distinct setback for Mortimer and Isabella, and the best-informed chronicles begin to note that at this time Mortimer was beginning to perceive Edward as a threat. In particular, when the pope asked Montagu to arrange the means by which he could distinguish between Edward's and Mortimer's written intentions, Bury wrote a letter which Edward himself signed
with
the words 'Pater Sancte' (Holy Father). This is today the earliest surviving writing in the hand of an English monarch.

Everyone was playing a deadly game. Mortimer could see his influence waning. But as the basis for his confidence diminished, Edward saw him growing more arrogant and more dangerous. The child which may have been born to Mortimer and Isabella at Kenilworth in December
1329
would have made nothing easier for any of them. Isabella too was vulnerable. Lancaster, only superficially forgiven for his rebellion, was out of the country, on a diplomatic mission, possibly coordinating activity from France. To make matters more dangerous still, rumours about Lancaster's return, or Kent's return, with an army of mercenaries were circulating. On
7
December
1329
Mortimer and Isabella issued a warrant to arrest anyone spreading such rumours. Feelings were running high, and, at the height of these feelings, Kent returned. The man with the knowledge and power to blow the whole situation sky high was back in England.

No one knew quite what to expect at the beginning of
1330.
Edward now learnt that Philippa was pregnant, and expecting their first child. Mortimer, fully aware of the danger to them all, was plotting. So too was Kent. They all came together for the coronation of Queen Philippa at Westminster Abbey on
18
February.

The records do not show how tense the situation was. The only documents which shed any light on that day are those which show what the queen was wearing. The fantastic ostentation is worth quoting, for it contrasts so completely with the antagonisms at court. It was almost as if Edward was ordering Philippa to spend as much as she possibly could in order to emphasise his right to empty the royal purse. For her journey from the Tower of London to Westminster on the eve of her coronation, Philippa wore a tunic comprising nine-and-a-half ells of green velvet cloth; for the cape she wore on the same occasion 'three of the very best red cloths of gold spinet', along with a selection of miniver furs. The next day - the day of her coronation - she wore, in the morning, a robe of seven cloths 'of green gold spinet of the very best quality'; a fur hood and fur cap. Then she changed, and wore a lined tunic and a lined mantel of red and grey samite for her anointing and coronation. This took place before the high altar of Westminster Abbey, Philippa being crowned by the new archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Meopham. She changed again for lunch, and wore a tunic and a mantel 'of the very best purple cloth of gold spinet and a hood of miniver fur'. For supper she changed again, and wore a robe of the very best gold spinet, a miniver fur and a miniver hood and fur cape. Finally, after her coronation, she dressed in a robe of the very best cloth of gold, and yet more furs, this time of ermine. According to the annalist of St Paul's, there was a great procession, and the queen rode between Edward's two uncles - Kent and Norfolk - who dressed as pages and rode on palfreys with her to the abbey. One wonders at the pleasantries which passed, the conversations which bubbled over the deep anxiety felt by Kent, Edward, Philippa, Mortimer and Isabella.

In fact the situation was worse than any member of the royal family could have guessed, including Kent. Mortimer now had the means to bring the crisis to a head. He had managed to obtain from his agent, John Deveril, at Corfe
Castle
, written proof of the earl of Kent's plot to release Edward II and dethrone Edward III. The incriminating letter had been written by Mortimer's own cousin, Margaret Wake, Kent's wife. Mortimer had to respond. His response would be cold and severe. He would have to betray the continued existence of the old king, but that perhaps was not such a bad thing for him, as he would thereby undermine Edward's authority. Either way he could not delay. Kent's plot was about to spring Edward II from Corfe. The archbishop of York had even written to the mayor of London to arrange for the deliver)' of clothes for the old king after his release. The rumours were rife, incriminating letters were being passed from hand to hand. Mortimer must have considered this might be his only chance to save himself and Isabella, and perhaps to stave off a civil war between his own faction, fighting in the name of Edward III, and those who, like Kent, wished to see Edward II restored.

*

At Winchester, on
13
March, Mortimer made his move. In the hall of the
castle
, in the king's presence and with the lords all assembled, he announced that he had arrested the king's uncle, the eari of Kent, on a charge of treason.

The stakes could not have been higher. Calculations had been piled on calculations; risks on risks. Edward probably trusted Mortimer to keep his father's survival secret, even at this stage, even though many of those attending parliament knew the truth. If the ex-king's survival became an open matter for debate, then he, Edward, could be accused of breaking the terms of Magna Carta, and keeping a man wrongly imprisoned. His uncles had, in fact, already accused him of exacdy that crime. If his father were to be released and restored - and such was the opposition to Mortimer now that many thought this an appropriate course of action -
Edward would find himself dethroned. Mortimer would be hanged and quartered, Isabella divorced and sent to a nunnery. Edward himself might even be arrested for treason. He might very easily find himself in Kent's place. All the key personalities had much to lose, and for once Mortimer was not an exception.

What Edward was probably only just beginning to understand was how far the information about his father had gone. Kent had been very successful in attracting support. The pope had promised unlimited funds. The archbishop of York had offered
£5,000.
Sir Ingelram Berengar had discussed the plan with Kent several times, the last in Kent's room above the chapel at Arundel
Castle
. Sir Fulk Fitzwarin said it would be the
'noblest deed ever accomplished'. Lord Beaumont was deeply implicated, so too was Sir Thomas Roscelyn. Kent's brother-in-law, Lord Thomas Wake, another of Mortimer's cousins, was an accomplice. So were Lady Vesci, the Scottish earl of Mar, and Sir John Pecche. Add to these Lord Zouche, the bishop of London and the earl of Lancaster, and things began to look very grave for Edward indeed.

Mortimer proceeded undaunted. He himself acted as the prosecutor, in a court specially arranged for the purpose of trying Kent. He made no attempt to cover up the secret of the ex-king's survival and custody.

Sir Edmund, earl of Kent, you should understand that it behoves us to say, and principally unto our liege lord, Sir Edward, king of England -whom Almighty God save and keep - that you are his deadly enemy and a traitor and also a common enemy unto the realm; and that you have been about many a day to make privily deliverance of Sir Edward, sometime king of England, your brother, who was put down out of his royalty by common assent of all the lords of England, and in impairing of our lord the king's estate, and also of his realm.

If Kent had harboured an illusion that rescuing a wrongly imprisoned kinsman was in some way not a crim
e, then it was shattered instantl
y. He falteringly replied: 'In truth, Sir, understand well that I never assented to the impairment of the state of our lord the king, nor of his crown, and that I put myself to be tried before my peers.' But he must have known that no plea could save him from Mortimer's judgement. And Edward too must have realised that Mortimer was going to push all the way: there would be no pretending that Edward's father was dead. If Edward himself openly denied it, then Mortimer could denounce him there and then, and reveal all. The whole royal family was on trial.

Edward kept silent. Mortimer continued. He held up a letter which, he explained, had been handed to his agent at Corfe
Castle
. It bore a seal. To Kent he showed the letter and said: 'Sir Edmund, do you not know this letter that you sent to Sir John Deveril?' The earl's seal was clearly visible, and he agreed it was his, but it was of no value, he protested, as he had sent many letters. Perhaps Kent genuinely did not know what this particular letter said. But Mortimer knew. He began to read the letter aloud:

Worshipful and dear brother, I pray heartily that you are of good comfort, for I shall ordain for you, that you shall soon come out of prison, and be delivered of that disease in which you find yourself. Your lordship should know that I have die assent of almost all the great lords of
England, with all their apparel, that is to say with armour, and with treasure without limit, in order to maintain and help you in your quarrel so you shall be king again as you were before.

There was no denying this evidence. Edward could see that his uncle was damned. Worse, he himself was demonstrably guilty of keeping his father hidden, and of having given orders for, and attended, a fake royal funeral. Could he plead ignorance? Would anyone listen if he did? His confidence had been broken, and broken again, so that many of the men now present suspected that he himself may have led Kent into this trap, and here, almost crowing, was Mortimer, who was setting his father and uncle against him.

Still Edward kept silent. The sentence was read out. Kent was told that:

the tenor of this your letter is that you were on the point of rescuing that worshipful knight Sir Edward, sometime king of England, your brother, and to help him become king again, and to govern his people as he was wont to do beforehand, thus impairing the state of our liege lord the present king
...
The will of this court is that you shall lose both life and limb, and that your heirs shall be disinherited for evermore, save the grace of our lord the king.

The sentence resounded around the hall. Edward heard the words 'save the grace of our lord the king' and knew he could no longer keep silent. The moment had come to decide. Kent, having heard that he was to die, in tears began to plead for his life. He admitted he had not considered the king in all his plotting, and he wholly submitted to him. He promised, if the king so desired, that he would walk through the streets of Winchester, or even all the way to London, barefoot, with a rope around his neck, in atonement. The man was terrified and humiliated, and begged Edward, his nephew, for his life.

'Save the grace of our lord the king.' Edward's kingship had crumbled into disaster. Everything — loyalty, affection, kinship, pity — suggested that he should save his terrified uncle, who had acted only out of love for his brother. But in Mortimer's open assertion that Edward II was still alive, Edward could see that he himself was under threat. Mortimer claimed descent from Arthur: die line which, it had been prophesied, would one day rule all England and Wales. Mortimer had presented his sons as earls; he had claimed the premier earldom in the kingdom; he had defeated his only rival, Lancaster, and was speaking and acting as if he, not Edward, was king. He had already once put himself forward as a possible monarch.