Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II

by Paul Doherty

  Isabella and Mortimer had the Earl of Kent watched but, as Kent made clear in his own confession, the conspiracy was generally spread by word of mouth. Consequently, tangible proof of Kent’s treason had to be found. Two further agents now emerged, Bogo Bayouse and John Deverel. They were later rewarded for their part in ‘discovering the plot’. Bogo Bayouse was one of Mortimer’s men; Deverel was described as a King’s yeoman and a member of the garrison at Corfe Castle.31 They encouraged Kent in his treason by showing him potential proof that Edward of Caernarvon was still alive, and persuaded the Earl of Kent and his wife to write letters to the deposed King. The Kents did this and Mortimer struck. The Earl was not immediately arrested; instead, a Parliament was called at Winchester, where Mortimer, who held the incriminating letters, challenged Kent before the King’s coroner.

  Kent might have expected a pardon: ‘He wholly submitted himself to the King’s will, to come in his shirt to London or in this city barefoot, or where so ever the King shall appoint, with a rope round his neck, to do with him what it shall please.’ Isabella and Mortimer, however, were in a hurry to get rid of him. The opening lines of Kent’s confession give the impression that he was tried before the coroner and then repeated his confession before his peers in Parliament on 16 March. In fact, in early April rumours were circulating that Kent had been deprived of a fair trial and that once he had confessed he was hustled out to execution; his confession was later read out before Parliament. On 12 March, Kent’s goods and chattels were taken into the King’s hands. He was still alive on the 14th, detained under house arrest, when his wife and children were ordered to be confined in Salisbury Castle. By the 15th he must have been dead, as a reference in a proclamation is made ‘To the late Earl of Kent’.32

  According to the chronicles, Kent was condemned to death on 14 March and his pleas for mercy were totally ignored. Isabella herself played a decisive hand in his death. She swore ‘By her father’s soul that she would have justice’. Frightened that her son might exercise clemency, Isabella issued the order for the bailiffs of Winchester to have Kent summarily executed. The bailiffs, terrified at the responsibility thrust on them and aware that Kent’s trial and condemnation had been irregular, led him out to the execution ground near the city gates, but they could find no one to carry out the sentence. The hapless Earl, dressed only in his shirt, waited there all day until shortly around Vespers. A dung-collector from the city prison was bribed with a pardon and carried out the sentence of decapitation.33

  SIX

  The Downfall of the She–Wolf

  ‘Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est: Do not fear to kill Edward, it is a good thing.’

  ‘Edwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est: Do not kill Edward, it is good to be afraid.’

  Message sent by Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford,

  to Edward II’s gaolers, September 1327,

  Chronicle of Geoffrey Baker of Swynbroke

  The old adage ‘those whom the Gods wish to destroy they first make mad’, sums up the fall of Isabella and Mortimer in the autumn of 1330. Astute observers like Pope John XXII, who tried his best to advise them, realized their collapse was inevitable. Isabella had destroyed one tyranny and replaced it with another. Wales was seething with discontent: exiles abroad were plotting invasion. There was unrest in both London and the shires around the capital. Although there appeared to be no opposition from the barons – Kent was dead, Lancaster anxious not to suffer a similar fate – the real focus of discontent was in the royal household. The young King Edward III, married and now expecting an heir, watched the events of 1330 with growing anxiety. In less than three years Mortimer had achieved the destruction of two princes of royal blood: a King and his half-brother.

  Later in the fifteenth century, during the Wars of the Roses, such violence became the norm but even then it was a case of generals and captains of defeated forces facing a military tribunal and summary execution on the edge of a battlefield or in the market square of some provincial town. Edmund of Kent’s destruction had been illegal, violent and without precedent. A prince and half-brother to a King, uncle to another, was hustled from court, his pleas for mercy ignored, and made to stand before a city gate before a drunken dung-collector was bribed to kill him.

  The Earl of March’s arrogance was now notorious, with his tournaments, Round Tables and the constant emphasis on his mythical ancestry. Did Mortimer harbour secret notions of becoming King and wiping out the House of Plantaganet? Did he intend to marry Isabella and beget a new dynasty? There is some proof that Isabella was pregnant by him though we have no firm evidence. Mortimer certainly saw himself as Master of the Kingdom, as did the Queen. According to Swynbroke, by 1330 Mortimer even refused to give way to the young King, relating to him as if he was his equal.1

  Edward III looked around him for support. He may have received passive assistance from Lancaster but, when he struck, the young King showed a shrewdness beyond his years. He gave a glimpse of his diplomatic skills after 1330, which would enable him to unite the baronage around him and bring to an end the bitter court-faction politics and the threat of civil war which had plagued the kingdom since his father’s accession in 1307. Edward III put his trust in no one except the clerks and knights from his own household, in particular, the young William Montague and Edward’s personal secretary, the scholar Richard Bury, Keeper of his Privy Seal.

  Edward III also needed the Church, the blessing of the papacy and, at least, the tacit support of the bishops. In September 1329, William Montague visited the Pope at Avignon. Montague explained to John XXII the restrictions under which the young King was having to work. The Pope replied that Edward III should use some secret sign in his letters so he could distinguish between letters sent by the King from those merely sent in his name. It is remarkable how the Pope was so eager to offer Edward his counsel and support. One wonders if the Pope had offered the same support to the Earl of Kent. It also demonstrates the Pope’s growing dislike of Mortimer and Isabella: their open adultery and acquisitiveness had lost them support amongst the episcopacy, except for one perennial time-server, Henry Burghesh, Bishop of Lincoln. Prelates like Adam Orleton, now Bishop of Worcester, must have briefed the Pope on the precious pair ruling England. The papacy realized that it was only a matter of time before Mortimer and Isabella made a mistake and followed the de Spencers into the dark.

  On his return to England, William Montague reported back to the King and Richard Bury. Edward III immediately wrote to Pope John XXII informing him that, only letters beginning with the words ‘Pater Sancte’ (Oh Holy Father) would come direct from him, anything else was the work of Isabella and Mortimer. Edward’s letter also stipulated that he would use the secret sign to promote people of his own household, particularly to bishoprics.2 The Queen Mother was intent on controlling the Church and recommended men such as her secretary Robert Wyville to the powerful bishopric of Salisbury, a cleric whom the chronicler Murimouth dismisses ‘As of little learning and even less personality’.3

  Slowly Edward built up his own party. Montague and Bury were joined by court knights such as William Clinton and Robert Ufford. Montague was made Commander of the King’s guard. He signed a contract to stay by the King with twenty men-at-arms for life.4 Such a force was essential. Mortimer was no fool and wherever he went a huge retinue of ‘Wild Welshmen’ went with him. The young King had to be careful. His own household was riddled with spies whilst a guard of 200 armed men under Mortimer’s henchman, Simon de Beresford, watched his every move.5 Nevertheless, this loyal party of adherents grew, drawing in John Neville of Hornby and the Bohun brothers, William and Humphrey. Such preparations did not go unnoticed and Mortimer and Isabella were warned of the young King’s growing opposition to them. Both parties kept up a pretence of civility and court protocol. Even as late as June 1330, Isabella was calling Richard Bury her ‘dear clerk’,6 though she must have known what mischief Bury was plotting. Her son was not helpless: if Mortimer could spy on him and
buy information, then Edward could do likewise. A considerable number of Mortimer’s adherents, Oliver Ingham and Thomas Berkeley, as well as the high-ranking clerk John Wisham, were all rather suspiciously well treated by Edward after Mortimer’s fall.7 The real problem was how ‘to bell the cat’, or ‘eat the dog’. Mortimer and Isabella were always accompanied by a well-armed retinue and it would be difficult to seize them.

  In the autumn of 1330 a Parliament was called at Nottingham. It opened with Council meetings on Monday, 15 October, where the deep animosities of the court surfaced. Mortimer and Isabella were informed by spies that the young King was looking for an opportunity to overthrow them. Isabella and Mortimer panicked. They moved into Nottingham Castle, put guards on every exit, ordered the castle to be barred at night, while Isabella herself kept the keys to the gates.8 Mortimer, highly nervous, lashed out. He accused Henry, Earl of Lancaster, of being involved in fresh plots against him. Lancaster, now going blind, protested his innocence. Mortimer insisted, and Lancaster had no choice but to move his entire household from the city to what Mortimer considered a safe distance of three miles from Nottingham.

  Mortimer then went on the attack: regular Council sessions constantly reaffirmed his own authority. This proved too much for young Montague, an outspoken, hot-headed young man. He shouted abuse at Mortimer: for the first time ever the Marcher Lord was openly and formally accused of being directly responsible for Edward II’s death.9 This proved to be the last straw for Mortimer and Isabella. A court of inquiry was set up, with Mortimer acting as prosecutor and judge. Early on Friday, 19 October, the inquiry, headed by Mortimer and Isabella, and supported by the Bishops of Salisbury and London, summoned Montague and his companions, individually, for close interrogation.

  The adherents of Edward III stoutly protested their innocence, except Montague who, loyal to the last, cleverly asserted that he would do nothing inconsistent in his duty to the King.10 The depth of Mortimer’s arrogance, and his true intentions, are revealed in the Marcher Lord’s reply. He made the startling declaration that, if anything the King said or did conflicted with what Mortimer wanted, then the King was not to be obeyed.11 Montague, delighted by this, immediately returned to the King and reported the entire proceedings. He depicted Mortimer as greater than the Crown, urging Edward to act, summing up the situation pithily: ‘It would be better to eat the dog than let the dog eat us.’ Edward, probably fearful for his mother, was reluctant to act. Moreover, Isabella and Mortimer had commandeered the castle and it would be very difficult to effect a coup.12

  According to Swynbroke and local legend, Montague offered the King a way of staging his successful coup through a secret entrance into the castle, still called ‘Mortimer’s Cavern or Tunnel’. Although a secret entrance would get the plotters into the castle, it would still be thronged with Mortimer’s henchmen. Accordingly, Edward summoned the Constable Robert Eland and, through a mixture of threats and promises, brought him into the conspiracy against Mortimer. The Constable agreed to force a postern gate open so that Montague and a group of knights could enter.13 Just before dark on 19 October 1330, Montague and his band of conspirators appeared to panic and flee from Nottingham. Under the cover of darkness, they reassembled, armed to the teeth, in the park outside the castle. They stayed there for a while. Others were supposed to join them but later claimed they’d got lost. In reality they had panicked and decided to stay on the sidelines to watch developments.14

  Montague decided to strike. He and twenty-three companions stole through the unbarred postern gate and crossed the outer and inner baileys to the door of the keep where Isabella and Mortimer were lodged. Here they were joined by the King. The door to the keep was opened and they crept up the steps.15 High in the keep, in a room adjoining Isabella’s, Mortimer had assembled a meeting of his clique, which included the Queen, the Bishop of Lincoln and others, to discuss measures to arrest Montague and the other suspects. The noise of the attacking force brought this council meeting to an abrupt end.

  Sir Hugh Turplington, one of Mortimer’s henchmen, raised the alarm and with others rushed down to attack the King’s party, screaming ‘Treason! Treason!’. A short but very violent dagger and sword fight broke out on the stairs. Turplington had his brains dashed out; another, Richard Monmouth, was cut down. The rest surrendered. Mortimer had barred the door and was busy arming himself when the King, Montague and their party burst in. Mortimer and Beresford put up a short struggle but were arrested immediately. Henry Burghesh, Bishop of Lincoln, made a vain and inglorious attempt to escape down a privy but got stuck and was hauled out. Isabella threw herself at her son’s feet, screaming: ‘Ayez pitie! Ayez pitie à gentil Mortimer!’.16

  The coup had been brilliantly successful. News of Mortimer’s arrest created panic: the castle was now thronged with the young King’s knights and the adherents of Mortimer and Isabella made themselves scarce. Edward immediately sent messages to Lancaster, inviting him to bring his troops back into the city. Lancaster hurried to obey, overjoyed at Mortimer’s fall. Edward wished to carry out a summary execution there and then but Lancaster persuaded him not to act like a tyrant but to have the Welsh lord tried by his peers.17 Mortimer, together with Beresford and a few others, was brought to Leicester and then sent south under a guard of a hundred men to be lodged in the Tower. Isabella, beside herself with grief, was treated with more consideration and placed under house arrest at Berkhampsted.18

  On the morning of 20 October a proclamation was issued, announcing the downfall of Isabella and Mortimer and summoning a Parliament to meet at Westminster on 26 November, where the King could hear grievances against Mortimer and his cohorts.19 The administration was purged, but no real punitive action was taken except against Mortimer and a few others. The Westminster Parliament reconvened at the end of November. Mortimer was brought from the Tower and summoned to the bar of the House. He was dressed appropriately in a mantle with the words: ‘QUID GLORIARIS?’ (‘Where is your glory?’) inscribed on it. He was bound, gagged and given no chance to speak during his trial.

  Justice was swift. Mortimer was charged on fourteen counts: he was held directly responsible for the murder of Edward II, the death of Edmund of Kent and of creating discord between Edward II and Queen Isabella. Parliament and the kingdom were given the general drift of the King’s intentions. Mortimer was the source of all wickedness and Edward’s parents, especially his ‘Dearest Mother’ Isabella, were simply casualties of this. Mortimer was judged guilty, sentenced to be hanged and handed over to the Earl Marshal to carry out the sentence.20

  On 29 November 1330, the disgraced Earl, dressed in the same black mantle he had worn at Edward II’s funeral, a potent jibe at his hypocrisy, was dragged at the tail of a horse from the Lion Gate of the Tower to the Elms at Tyburn.21 Alongside him rode some of his fiercest opponents, chanting verses from Psalm 51.22 At Tyburn, Mortimer, probably in return for the King’s leniency in not sentencing him to be quartered and disembowelled, addressed the crowds. He mentioned nothing about the Queen or the death of Edward II, but openly confessed that the Earl of Kent had been the victim of a cruel conspiracy.23 Sentence was then carried out. Mortimer’s body was left to hang naked for two days and nights before being handed over to the Friars Minor for burial in their church at Grey Friars near St Paul’s.24 Parliament also passed sentence on Simon Beresford, who was found guilty ‘by common repute’ of a number of crimes, chief of which was being Mortimer’s principal accomplice. Beresford was executed on 21 December. He was the only adherent of Mortimer to suffer the full rigour of the law. Maltravers, Bayouse, Deverel, Ockle and Gurney had all fled, so sentence of death was passed upon them ‘in absentia’ and rewards fixed for their capture, dead or alive.25

  These summary sentences provide an insight into who was held responsible for which crimes. Maltravers, Bayouse and Deverel were not accused of being involved in the murder of Edward II but of enticing the Earl of Kent to his death. The only two singled out as regicides were Thomas Gurney
and William Ockle: ‘For the death of King Edward, father of Our Lord the King who is now, that they falsely and traitorously murdered him.’ Even then a distinction was made: £100 for Gurney captured alive, for his head only, 100 marks; and for Ockle, 100 marks alive and whoever brought in his head, £40.26 The rewards were enticing enough for those who wished to make a quick profit, but the sly, versatile and mendacious Thomas, Lord of Berkeley, played a decisive hand in the escape of these wanted men.27 Berkeley, too, should have expected to suffer the full rigours of the law. After all, he was Mortimer’s henchman, related to him by marriage, and he had been directly responsible for the custody of Edward II.

  Lord Thomas was not at Nottingham when Mortimer was arrested but at Berkeley. He made no attempt to flee and, when summoned to answer before the November Parliament, came to London to present his defence. By then the King must have guessed what had happened to his father. Mortimer had been arrested on 19 October but he was not executed until 29 November. The condemnations of Beresford, Maltravers, Gurney and Ockle and the rest were not drawn up until the same date. It is curious that Edward III waited over five weeks before ordering the arrest of his father’s killers. Indeed, it was not until 3 December that the warrants were sworn out for the arrest of those who had enticed Kent to his death, as well as of the two regicides, Gurney and Ockle. Beresford also spent almost two months in the Tower before execution was carried out. It is likely that the King’s agents used this delay to interrogate prisoners but it also gave the other condemned men at least six weeks to escape from the kingdom and flee abroad.28 Possibly Edward III was keener to see the back of these people rather than their heads on poles over London Bridge.