The Perfect King (20 page)

Edward's strong mental grasp of a situation, and instinct to control it, was very similar to that exhibited by his grandfather, Edward I. Edward felt a strong affinity towards 'the Hammer of the Scots', as his grandfather was called, who had died six years before he was born. He regularly made spiritual gifts at his grandfather's tomb in Westminster Abbey and treasured the knife
that
an assassin had used in an attempt to murder Edward I in the Holy Land (on which occasion Edward I had overpowered and killed his assailant). We might also fairly assume
that
the genes of the elder Edward conditioned the temperament of the younger. But just as important was the legacy of the man's reputation. For the Hammer of the Scots had not just been a warrior, he had been a great lawgiver and a great leader.

Edward had
made much progress in the year since Mortimer's fall, but in terms of leadership he had hardly proved himself. His entertainments were glorious spectacles, but so had been his father's musical interludes and carnivalesque capers. Tournaments were entertaining, and they showed personal metde, and his companions' collective spirit, but they were not an indication of responsibility, and hardly a measure of political judgement. For
that
, Edward needed another proving ground, and one in which his grandfather had excelled. Parliament.

A week after the Cheapside tournament, parliament met at Westminster. Edward had agreed the previous year that parliament should meet annually, and although later in his reign he did not always abide by this resolution, for the moment it suited his purposes to do so. It gave him the perfect opportunity to ass
ert himself — and more importantl
y, to be seen to assert himself - over his nobles. He also came with a specific agenda. He asked the lords to give up the unpopular practice of 'maintenance': shielding their tenants from the law when they had committed a crime. This had been going on for some years, and Edward was
directly
confronting his nobles by issuing what was in effect a manifesto of fair rule for all, in line with the coronation oaths he had sworn. His request that they give up such practices - rather than forbidding them outright - indicates vestiges of nervousness, or uncertainty, but he clearly hoped to mark out a policy. Unfairness and extrajudicial processes were aspects of lordly domination which he had known only too well.

One particular question raised at the parliament of
1331
was whether England should go to war with France. Edward wanted to know specifically whether he should seek to recover the lands lost to the English Crown in the war of Saint-Sardos by force or by diplomacy. Parliament responded that diplomacy was the preferred course. Edwa
rd consequentl
y embarked on a tortuous series of diplomatic negotiations to try to recover the Agenais. Edward himself probably felt that the time was not right for a continental campaign. But the real question here is why he asked parliament at all. Surely, now that Mortimer was dead, and the consolidation of the reign was Edward's priority, he did not need a war? Was the question just put to demonstrate to parliament that he was prepared to listen to their advice?

The diplomatic situation in France was stable but not to Edward's advantage. To paraphrase his mother's words, he had been forced to do homage to the son of a count. France was a sore in his mind. After his claim to the throne of France had been withdrawn, his rival, King Philip, had very soon led the French to a remarkable victory at Cassel against the Flemish. Philip had exhorted his men to feats of daring and chivalry, and they had responded to his leadership. Philip was determined to win glory for France by leading a crusade. Philip's name was becoming synonymous with all the virtues which Edward wanted associated with his own. After Edward's renewal of homage in
1331,
Philip had even greater superiority in the chivalric pecking order. Although Philip was much older - he was thirty-eight in
1331
- Edward saw the new French king as a definite rival in fame as well as power and royalty. When Philip first expressed his desire to go on crusade, Edward, not to be outdone, supported him. Thus there was a personal
dimension to the struggle. Lastl
y,
Scotland
rankled with Edward no less than France, and both kingdoms were bound by an alliance to defend the other against England. When Edward suggested using force to reclaim the Agenais, he was not just suggesting war with France, he was suggesting an armed struggle which would force the Scots to join France and attack England, and thus break their truce.

Edward's relations with
Scotland
were complicated. He had been forced to ratify the Treaty of Northampton by which he recognised the independence of Robert Bruce's kingdom of
Scotland
. Bruce had died in
1329,
leaving the country in a weak state, with no obvious leader, but Bruce had done his best to ensure the succession. Edward's ten-year-old sister Joan had been married to the seven-year-old king, David II, and her coronation was planned for November
1331.
On the other hand, there had been many lords who had never accepted the 'shameful' treaty, due to the loss of their lands north of the border. Edward himself had never forgotten the ignominy of being forced to relinquish part of his kingdom. Nor had he forgotten that the Scots nicknamed his little sister 'Joan Makepeace' on the day she was taken north. He had not forgotten their insults at Stanhope Park, nor their dealings with Isabella and Mortimer rather than him, when he had been the rightful king. As for his sister's marriage, although she was married to his enemy, she was still under age, and so the marriage could not yet have been consummated. That of course was a technicality. The important fact was that Edward was not going to let her status be the cause of his own disinheritance.

As it happened, parliament's decision not to pursue a war in the Agenais was overtaken by events. Edward Balliol emerged as a leader of the claimants of Scottish lands, 'the Disinherited' as they came to be known. Balliol was the son of the ousted king of Scots, John Balliol, who had ruled the country under Edward I. It made perfect sense for Edward to allow this adventurer to try his luck. If he was successful, he would rule Scotland as Edward's client king, and, by keeping the northern border secure, he would permit Edward to concentrate on France. If he was unsuccessful, he would tempt the Scots to break the terms of the truce, so that they would probably appear the aggressors in any subsequent war. Balliol swore ho
mage to Edward, and Edward tacitl
y gave his approval for Balliol to use English ports to gather and launch his invasion. Several of Edward's friends decided to go with Balliol, including Sir Walter Manny and Sir Thomas Ughtred, and they went with his blessing Although Edward issued written orders for the sheriffs to stop the invasion, this was almost certainly a smokescreen; it is likely that he also issued verbal orders for the written orders to be disregarded.

For Edward, this new Scottish strategy meant a period of waiting. He spent Christmas
1331
at Wells with Philippa, who was three months pregnant with their second child. They stayed there until the completion of the games on the night of Epiphany
(6
January). Presents were exchanged;

Philippa gave Edward a silver goblet and ewer, the goblet being 'enamelled on the outsid
e with images of beautiful castl
es, ships and beasts, and on the inside with a great
castle
at the base with its banners unfurled and the king seated in the middle, and enamelled on all sides with the arms of England among leopards bearing the same arms'; the ewer was enamelled with legendary figures: Julius Caesar, Judas Maccabeus, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver, Arthur, Gawain and Lancelot of the Lake.
44
Philippa must have commissioned this herself, and it is striking that several of the heroes from books in Richard Bury's library are represented. The conqueror of Jerusalem (Judas Maccabeus) sat alongside the conqueror of Europe (Caesar). Philippa knew her husband's tastes well.

While Edward wait
ed for the resolution of Balliol’
s gamble, he had many other claims on his attention. He was still considering going to Ireland in August
1332.
He was concerned about the state of the University of Cambridge. He ordered the arrest of renegade friars wandering around the country. He ordered the bishop of Winchester to arrange the marriage between his sister Eleanor and Reginald, count of Guelderland. He
ordered the repair of his castl
es in Gascony. He responded to the news that Thomas Gurney had been caught in Bayonne. He received ambassadors from Armenia (in relation to a crusade there), Savoy, and the pope: the last exhorting him not to fight the French. He sent ambassadors to Flanders, Rome, France, Portugal and Spain. In March, he urged parliament to encourage Flemish weavers to come to England to teach the English how to improve the making of domestic cloth, his first foray into economic policy. In April, despite parliament's expressed desire that he should put off going on a crusade with Philip of France for three years, he sent the bishop of Winchester to negotiate this, and wrote to the pope about the plan.

As this list shows, economics, family relations, foreign policy, defensive strategy and crusading were all bubbling together in one great royal melting pot. This was merely what a king did. Throughout
1332
we see Edward moving around the country - rarely spending a week in the same place -feasting on the major saints days, attending mass, holding parliament, receiving ambassadors, jousting and granting charters. For relaxation he indulged in hunting, gambling with his friends, and being told chivalric stories of military and romantic prowess. At the end of April the court came to rest at the royal manor of Woodstock, at which it had been decided Philippa would have her next child. There, on
16
June, his first daughter, Isabella, was born.
46
Two weeks after the birth, the king was off again, travelling through Burford to Devizes, to his manor at Clarendon; then, via Abingdon, back to Woodstock to attend the churching of Queen Philippa. Of course, there was a lavish tournament in celebration. No expense was spared in the decoration. The altars of the church itself were decorated in purple silk embroidered with birds, beasts, baboons and snakes, and Philippa's state bed hangings were similarly decorated with these animals and the arms of England and Hainault. The feast that day
(19
July) cost more than
£292:
about ten times the usual daily expenditure on feeding the royal household.

On
12
July, at Woodstock, Edward decided to delay his Irish campaign until Michaelmas, in order to learn the results of Balliol's adventure. Balliol and the disinherited lords landed with eighty-eight ships and fifteen hundred men at Kinghorn on
6
August. They soon met with considerable opposition. Although the southern Scottish forces, under Patrick of Dunbar, were too far away to prevent the landing, the huge army of Donald, earl of Mar, confronted them four days later. Balliol had been led to believe that Donald of Mar would come over to his side, but, now he was actually there, he found Mar planned to slaughter him and all the Disinherited. On the night of
10
August, knowing that thousands of men were ranged against them, and knowing even more men were on their way to assist in the massacre, Balliol and his experienced military adviser, Henry Beaumont, made a desperate decision. They decided to seize the initiative and fight. The longer they delayed, the greater the risk of having to resist an even larger army. The other lords with them were aghast, and accused Beaumont of leading them into a trap. 'By no means', he replied, 'but since the affair has gone so far, for God's sake, let us help ourselves. For no man knows what God has in store for us. Let us think of our great right so as to show we are descended from good knights.' Most inspiring of all, he found a Scotsman who was prepared to show them the ford across the River Earn. That night, while the men-at-arms loyal to the earl of Mar drank the night away on the moor, and their footsoldiers slept, Balliol and Beaumont led their men across the Earn and slaughtered the Scottish footsoldiers in their tents. But as light came up, to their amazement they realised they had only engaged half the enemy, and now the great mass of Mar's men was ranged against them. Desperate measures were called for. Facing death, the English men-at-arms dismounted, and set themselves to form a defensive line of pikes, with archers on the flanks. Beaumont ordered the pikes set into the ground, and the archers to aim at the faces of the oncoming Scottish riders.

Desperate measures they may have been, but what happened that day was truly remarkable. The English archers, well-organised and well-trained, stood their ground and drove the flanks of the Scottish army into the centre of the charge, where they disabled their own compatriots. For centuries the great charge of a body of knights - the utterly destructive fast-moving mass of armoured power - had held sway on the
battle
fields of Europe. Here, on the slopes of a Scottish moor, Dupplin Moor, everything changed. The archers destroyed the force of the charge. When the Scots front line had finally staggered on to the English pikes, they drove the English back twenty or thirty feet. At that point Lord Stafford cried out: 'Englishmen! Turn your shoulders instead of your chests to the pikes!' A
little
later another Englishman cried out 'Cheer up, Englishmen, and fight like men, for the Scots in the rear have now begun to fly!' As the chronicler who noted these exclamations recorded, the English took heart, and the Scots were dismayed. The
battle
field became a slaughter ground. The same chronicler adds 'a most marvellous thing happened that day, such as was never seen or heard of in any previous battle: the pile of dead rising up from the ground was more than a spear's length in height'.