Thereafter, it rapidly became apparent that Montfort did not intend Edward to be free in any real sense and that Edward and Eleanor’s position was not actually improved by the March agreement. Edward’s captivity was simply on a different footing, and Eleanor remained in genteel custody. Financially, she was even worse off than before – having lost the manor of Ashford in the March deal, her new grants were almost immediately seized by Gloucester and others. This left her completely destitute, and she was forced to borrow £40 for expenses from Hugh Despenser, Montfort’s justiciar, in April.
It may be this step which caused Montfort to make some further provision for Eleanor: on 30 April she was granted the manor and hundred of Somerton, to be held at farm. It is ironic that this holding, which came to her at such a low point, was to be a key piece in her property acquisitions. But that may not be unrelated to the fact that Somerton was close to land held by her Fiennes relatives, who could, in the early years, help her to run it. It is tempting to speculate, therefore, that they suggested it to her, and she petitioned for it.
But until its revenues came in she was still penniless. It appears very possible that she was at this point driven to that well-known expedient of distressed well-to-do ladies – borrowing from her own tradesmen, notably her tailor. In the years just after the Barons’ War, Eleanor was to put two pieces of land the way of her tailor, William, and to refer specifically, in petitioning Henry III for the land (itself a rarity), to the services William had performed for her.57
But events were beginning to turn. Gilbert de Clare had been annoyed by Montfort’s failure to grant him sufficient recognition after Lewes, and the wealth and influence which Montfort acquired for himself and his sons was a further considerable vexation. Gloucester withdrew from court and retreated to the Welsh Marches, where an alliance was hatched with the royal party abroad, leading to two major events. The first was the landing of a royalist force in Pembrokeshire in mid-May, which drew Montfort (carrying Edward and Henry with him) off to Hereford to deal with the invasion. The second was Edward’s escape.58
The escape, as it is described in the chroniclers, reads like a piece of theatre. The tale goes that, towards the end of May, Edward was permitted by Montfort to receive a number of visitors, including Clifford, Leyburn and Gloucester’s brother Thomas de Clare. On 28 May 1265, Thomas and Edward, accompanied by guards, rode out to exercise their horses. Each horse (including those of the guards) was exercised thoroughly, under the pretence of a debate about which was the fastest – until only one remained fresh. At this point, Edward leapt upon the one fresh animal and galloped away, calling back a mocking message to his guards and a promise to return and release his father soon. Outside the woods, he met Mortimer by appointment and went with him to Gloucester at Ludlow, where a deal was struck for Gloucester’s support.
The balance of power had now shifted emphatically in favour of the royalist party. In June Edward seized control of the River Severn, trapping Montfort. By the beginning of August, Simon de Montfort the younger had brought troops, destined to come to his father’s aid, as far as Kenilworth.59
The fate of the Barons’ War now turned on two facts. The first is that Simon the younger appears to have lacked his father’s military sense – he permitted his army to camp outside the near-invulnerable walls of Kenilworth, rather than retreating within it. In the heat of August his decision was understandable, but it was nonetheless a mistake since Kenilworth was only thirty-five miles away from Edward at Worcester. The second fact was that Edward appears to have employed a good intelligence service, who rapidly brought news of this error to him.
Edward did not hesitate to capitalise on the slip. He took a cavalry force by an overnight march to Kenilworth, where he surprised the sleeping Montfortian relief force. A few (including Simon the younger) escaped into the castle, but many were captured and brought back to Worcester on the afternoon of 2 August – as were the army’s battle standards.60
Meanwhile, Montfort had crossed the Severn. Believing his son’s army to be more or less intact and on its way to join him, he made at once for Evesham on the evening of 3 August. Almost immediately their hopes appeared to be answered – the banners of the Montfortians were spotted. But within minutes it became apparent that these banners were actually being deployed by Edward’s army, who had quietly followed them to Evesham through the night and who now commanded the heights above the town, while Montfort was trapped in the valley against the river.61
It is plain that the Montfortians knew that all really was lost this time. In the scant time available before the battle commenced, Montfort and his knights were shriven as if in the last rites. They knew well that the normal courtesies of warfare had been declared suspended by Edward – no quarter was to be given, and no surrenders for ransom would be accepted. More, so far as Montfort was concerned, in an unprecedented step, Edward had appointed a hit squad of twelve knights whose task was simple: to ensure that Montfort did not leave the field alive.62
On this occasion, the Montfortians did not buck the odds stacked against them. The battle was a bloody slaughter – at least thirty Montfortian knights died on the field, including Henry de Montfort, struck down in the first charge. Also dead on the field were Hugh Despenser and the Earl of Hereford’s heir. Finally, Montfort himself fell to his nemesis Roger Mortimer. While other blades contributed to his death, Mortimer’s was the blade that struck the first blow, and it was apparently he who took the lead in the desecration of the body which followed, cutting off Montfort’s head and genitals and stuffing the latter into his mouth. The adorned head was then paraded on a pike (where it was seen by young Simon de Montfort as he arrived late at the battle) before being despatched off to Wigmore Castle as a gift to Mortimer’s wife, Maud de Braose. It appears that, in the light of her warlike Marcher ancestry and Montfort’s raids on Mortimer and de Braose territory, Mortimer was entirely confident that his wife would take this thoughtful gift in the right spirit. The skull was indeed cherished at Wigmore Castle for many years.63
So, by the time night fell on 4 August 1265, the Barons’ War was effectively over, and the royalists had won. Henry was notionally back in power, but since Edward had just established his credentials as an accomplished and ruthless military leader, there can be no doubt that he was now regarded not merely as ‘the Lord Edward’ but as a king in waiting.
And thus, overnight, Eleanor’s fortunes turned. On the morning of 4 August, she was a penniless captive. By evening, she was queen in waiting.
7
Queen in Waiting
The Barons’ War was decided, and in the royalists’ favour, it is true. With hindsight we can see that, from this point, Eleanor’s life moved into a new, more prosperous, phase, bringing her a huge change in fortunes and in activities as she started to acquire property and to manage it actively, as well as fulfilling her role as consort. However, the scale of the change which came about was not apparent at once. The outcome of the war might no longer be in doubt, but it was not actually over for months to come.
It is highly unlikely that the victorious Edward rode straight from the battlefield at Evesham to be reunited with his loyal wife, as a romantic view of history would dictate. As the military leader of the royalist cause, he had to attend immediately to what are now termed ‘mopping up operations’, superintending the surrenders of various Montfortian strongholds.
Meanwhile, for some time after the victory Eleanor remained in effective captivity, although quite where and with whom is unclear. It is tempting to suggest that after March she was sent with Eleanor de Montfort, staying with her at Odiham and then at Dover Castle. However, it seems highly implausible that Eleanor de Montfort would have let such a prize as Eleanor go freely when her world had just disintegrated at Evesham. And Eleanor was definitely free long before Eleanor de Montfort surrendered Dover Castle and her captives in October.1
Another possible custodian is Hugh Despenser, who lent Eleanor money in April, hinting that she
was in his charge at that point. However, Despenser later moved to join Montfort, dying with him on the field at Evesham. It is possible that she remained at the Tower, in the custody of her near contemporary Aline Basset, Hugh Despenser’s wife, who yielded the Tower in August. However, overall it seems most likely that Eleanor was sent back to Windsor at some point in early 1265 with the new warden of the castle, John Fitzjohn, the son of Edward’s former governor John FitzGeoffrey. Fitzjohn was thus a Montfortian with tie to both camps and he appears to have been a realist, surrendering the castle at once after news of the defeat at Evesham had broken.
Another possibility is that she was in Westminster throughout; and certainly it seems near certain that she was by 7 September 1265, when her baby Joan, who died in late August or early September 1265, was buried in Westminster Abbey with Henry III donating a gold cloth for her tomb. A location either in Windsor or Westminster would also be consistent with Eleanor’s activities in September 1265, which show her commencing work as a landowner.2
What of the reunion between Edward and Eleanor? We know that Eleanor and Edward were reunited at least by late October, since their next child was born in mid-July of 1266, but it seems likely that they were together at some point in late September, since Eleanor’s actions thereafter speak of a change in policy which was unlikely to have been arrived at independently.
Meanwhile, the way forward was a matter of debate among the victors. It is plain that Edward’s inclination at this stage was to pursue a statesmanlike policy of mercy – he offered generous terms, promising that those surrendering would suffer neither in body or property. However, in mid-September Henry convened a parliament at Winchester and announced that all those who had stood with Montfort were disinherited and were to remain disinherited forever. Those of his supporters who had seized rebel lands were confirmed in their holdings, and inferentially all lands which had not yet been seized were up for grabs.3
The implications of Henry’s approach must have been an important topic for discussion between Edward and Eleanor and with their supporters. It must be remembered that they had now been married for over ten years and had been hard up throughout that period, with Eleanor being destitute for the last year. Further, Edward had greedy supporters to please (notably Mortimer, who felt entitled to a good pay-off after his considerable exertions). They also had less prominent but loyal supporters who deserved a return, and for whom Edward and Eleanor could not provide themselves. The prime example would be Otho de Grandison, who had yet to see any advancement as a reward for his loyalty; now in his late twenties, he was still lacking the financial qualifications for knighthood.
It appears that the result of their consultations was a decision not to stand back from the awards of lands to Henry’s supporters, which were to follow Henry’s disastrous proclamation. In part this was a move of necessity, and in part it was probably guided by long-term self-interest. Both may well have appreciated that ‘the Disinherited’ would at some point have to be restored, but that Henry would feel obligated to those who were themselves the losers as a result. They and Edward’s supporters therefore did indeed benefit largely from the grants of ‘Disinherited’ land made at this time. Roger Mortimer gained some grants at a very early stage, and then property at Aldermanbury in London. Roger Leyburn gained lands and wardships. And Otho de Grandison finally received the lands which would enable him to be knighted, being granted houses in Queenhithe in October 1265 and the property of William le Blund the next month.4
What is interesting in these grants, from the point of view of trying to ascertain Eleanor’s position, is that the acquisition of lands for Edward and Eleanor did not simply proceed on the part of Edward, as it might well have done. Eleanor herself entered into the market, and actively so. A great deal as to the plans which she and Edward had arrived at for her future role and as to her personality and approach can be seen from one story which takes place in September 1265.
On 18 September 1265, Eleanor was granted wardship of a manor at Barwick in Somerset in the minority of Walter de Cantilupe’s heir. This was a property quite near to her farm at Somerton. In the press of administration at the time, it was somehow granted again to someone else a few days later. Within days, Eleanor herself appears to have given considerable thought to the way forward. The letter which results is one of the very few of hers which survive, and this in itself justifies reproducing it in its entirety. It is just possible that it is in her own handwriting – the version which survives is clearly an informal draft, including interpolations and missing the formal recitals. But for present purposes, it shows three things quite clearly: Eleanor’s personal involvement in her own financial planning, a thorough approach to strategy in acquiring lands, and an overwhelming concern that she gains the lands without acquiring a reputation for greed – as Eleanor of Provence had demonstrated was all too easy. It also shows the beginnings of her administration coming together.5
The letter reads as follows:
Eleanor, companion of the lord Edward, to her loyal and faithful Sir John of London, health and good love. Know that our Lord the King gave us the other day the manor of Barwick with its appurtenances, at the request of Sir Roger de Leyburn; and because the property is appurtenant to the guardianship of Cantilupe, my Lord has given it to another, so that nothing of it is now given to us. But there is another manor close by, in the county of Somerset, which is at the town of Haselbury, which belonged to Sir William le Marshal, who is dead, and who held it of the King in chief. We would like you to ask Sir John de Kirkby if the guardianship of that manor is granted, and if it is not, then you should request Sir Roger de Leyburn and the Bishop of Bath on our behalf, that they should ask our lord the King to grant us the manor until the coming of age of the heir of Sir William. And if it is already taken, there is another manor in the county of Dorset, called Tarrant, which belonged to Sir William de Keenes, who is dead, and who held it in chief of the King. So if we cannot have the other, we would ask you to request them on our behalf that they should apply to the King to allow us this one. The manor of Haselbury is worth less. And if nothing is possible, mention to Sir Roger that the manor of Barwick that the King gave us, at his suggestion, has been taken from us, for this will tend to make us seem less covetous; and say the same to the bishop of Bath. And if the letters which you have concerning it can achieve nothing, give them to the bearer of this letter, for he will carry them to Sir Walter de Kancia, our clerk. Be careful to dispatch this affair, for it will be to our profit; and deal with this matter in a way which ensures that they shall not set it down to covetousness. Farewell.
Before considering the results of this plea, it is worth breaking the letter down in some detail. The first thing to note is that the actual acquisition of lands was a new departure for royal women in England. In part this was because it was quite unusual for royal heirs to be married before their accession and queens had official sources of revenue such as ‘queen’s gold’. But even Eleanor of Provence, who concerned herself very actively with increasing her revenues, had not sought to involve herself in the details of landholding. Although it was well understood that a fortune could be built by the careful acquisition and management of property – as Richard of Cornwall had done – this was not a realm into which royal women had ever gone. It may be that the level of detail and active management required meant that it was seen as unsuited to women, whose responsibilities should lie elsewhere. If Edward had decided to add to his wife’s assets by this novel means, one might therefore expect that it would be done under his aegis or at least by her clerks on his instructions. However, on the contrary, here we see Eleanor personally soliciting a land grant. It is therefore plain that she was wishing to be personally involved, and it is also fairly plain inferentially that this was approved by Edward.
The second important thing to note is that Eleanor is not merely soliciting an undefined or unnamed grant; she is soliciting a particular grant – and has even prepared a backup plan. However, the
nature of the request reveals even more thoroughness than at first appears. Here, the locations of the properties are highly significant. It had become accepted that property empires should not consist of disparate properties over a wide geographical area, but should consist of properties which were relatively close to each other, so that economies of scale could be used. Eleanor thus far had two properties of her own, the Somerton farm and the manor of Ashford at the Peak (which was in the process of being returned to her). She also had three properties under management during the minority of Cecily de Fortibus: Dundon in Somerset (practically next door to Somerton), Woodmansterne in Surrey and Dullingham in Cambridgeshire. Barwick, the original September grant, was quite close to Somerton and Dundon, and it should be inferred that it had been sought for that reason. However, once Barwick had gone, Eleanor and her advisers sought about for another nearby property on the market. They decided that there were two possibles – Haselbury in Somerset itself and Tarrant in Dorset. Of these Haselbury, though less valuable, was preferable – and this would be because it was, like Barwick, close to Somerton and Dundon.
We can therefore see that this letter is based on research not just as to properties which would be up for grabs as part of the ‘Disinherited’ market, but also as to their location, to ensure efficient management. This is a level of preparation which indicates a real commitment to the process, and forewarns us that property acquisition and management is not to be a one-off departure for Eleanor.
The third point to note is that Eleanor knew the mechanics of getting the matter expedited. The request is to be made by Roger Leyburn and the Bishop of Bath; Leyburn was one of Edward’s longest-standing associates, and the bishop (Walter Giffard) was a staunch royalist who became Henry’s chancellor at about this time. However, to ensure that there were no slips, her clerk was to check with Sir John de Kirkby – a clerk in Chancery, who would be in a position to know what estates had been granted already – whether her first choice was still available. The conduits to the more major players are her clerk Walter de Kancia – already established in a role in her household and later becoming her steward for all her acquired property – and John of London, the treasurer appointed for her when she first came to England, who for obvious reasons had good contacts with the king’s household.
Eleanor of Castile: The Shadow Queen Page 20