by Ian Mortimer
The king was satisfied. But in his moment of victory he began to have doubts about the Mortimers’ fates, and the renewed opposition that killing his own kin and longstanding servants would have in the wake of the Boroughbridge executions. With Lancaster gone, it seemed he had little to fear from Roger and his sixty-six-year-old uncle. Upon hearing the news of the sentence, he commuted it to perpetual imprisonment. The Mortimers’ lands and possessions remained forfeit, and they and their families remained incarcerated in their respective castles and priories, but their lives were spared.
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All England now lay in the hands of Edward II and Hugh Despenser. Every notable opponent was dead or in prison. Every lord who had so far remained obedient was too terrified to voice dissent. At the York parliament of 1322 Edward enacted a Statute revoking all previous Ordinances which restricted his authority and prohibiting any further attempts to control his power. There would be no royal council, nor would the king be accountable in any way to Parliament. The lords, prelates and commons of the realm were henceforth expected to consent to his will. If they did not, they were expected to suffer his will in silence. Any questioning of the king’s authority would be regarded as treason. Parliament became merely an advisory council.
With no check on the king’s power, Despenser assumed two roles: that of first minister and that of arch-bully. In the former guise he exhorted the king to gather a large treasury, taking money from whomsoever he could, and paying out nothing unless he absolutely had to, even where he was in debt. In his bullying role, any ‘rebels’ he wished to constrain were threatened with such crippling fines that they could not possibly step out of line. He took any lands he fancied. Some manors of Roger Mortimer of Chirk and dower lands of the widow of the Earl of Lancaster were made over to Despenser by the king. But these were not the only victims. Even the king’s own brother, Thomas of Brotherton, Earl of Norfolk, was forced to rent out lands to Despenser for a nominal amount. Later he was forced to sell them for a ridiculously small sum. Worst of all, Elizabeth, the widow of Roger Damory and the king’s own niece, was forced to surrender the lordship of Usk (worth £770 per year) in return for that of Gower (worth £300 per year). Despenser forced her to do this in the king’s name, through his control of royal agents, despite the fact that she was his own sister-in-law. He then sought Gower’s confiscation on behalf of William de Braose. Thus Lady Damory, the sorry sister and co-heiress of the late Earl of Gloucester, was left with almost nothing of her rightful inheritance.
It would be tedious and depressing to list all of Despenser’s misdealings. Through extraordinary connivance, intrigue, extortion, oppression and royal nepotism he acquired whatever he wanted. Lands, money, influence, and prestige all flooded his way. It was only a matter of time before he sought the final victory over Roger. About a year after Roger was condemned, Despenser decided that he would obtain an order from the king for him to be put to death. And what Despenser requested, the king invariably granted.
Despenser had a problem, however, in the person of Queen Isabella.
Isabella hated Despenser’s ruthlessness and his manipulation of her husband. She abhorred the tyranny that he had brought on the country, especially the incarceration of so many noblewomen. She loathed the vindictiveness with which he sought revenge on his enemies, and the degree to which he and the king punished whole communities, including the Londoners. When she had come to London as a young, terrified princess, it had been the citizens above all others who had welcomed her with flags and gaiety, and she had always remained fond of the citizens. Now they were suffering increased taxation from the king on Despenser’s advice. As for the imprisoned children, Isabella lamented to see them separated from their families. Despenser was constantly undermining her respect and authority. In late 1322 she decided she had no choice but to act against him, as she believed was right.
For Isabella the breaking point was the English campaign to Scotland in the summer after Boroughbridge. Like all Edward’s other Scottish campaigns, this was completely disastrous. Unlike all his earlier disasters, however, Isabella was there in person, close to the border, at Tynemouth Abbey. When the Scots surprised Edward and Despenser at Blackhow moor, the king and his favourite fled, leaving Isabella to the mercy of Robert Bruce.11 Knowing that Bruce’s own mistress and sister had received precious little mercy from Edward I, being exposed in wooden cages on the walls of Berwick and Roxburgh castles for three years, this was an outstandingly callous act. It was only due to Isabella’s quick thinking and determination that she managed to escape. Although the coastal routes were controlled by the Scots’ Flemish allies, she managed to find a boat prepared to take her to England. Two of her ladies-in-waiting died in the desperate flight from Tynemouth.
As Isabella once again found herself safe on English soil she knew her future course of action: to work towards the release of Roger Mortimer and the overthrow of the Despensers. She was well aware of the dangers, and she knew that any move had to be made in the greatest secrecy. Even to pass a message to Roger was fraught with difficulty. Direct action was even more dangerous. In late 1322 Robert le Ewer was executed by being crushed to death in a linen shirt under a load of iron, over the course of several days, for his part in an attack on the elder Despenser (now titled the Earl of Winchester), in which the Mortimers were believed to have been involved.12 But Isabella heard that Edward was travelling to the Tower of London, and knew she would soon have an opportunity to act.
Her chance came within a couple of months. In January 1323, as the royal party neared London, Lord Berkeley almost escaped from Wallingford Castle. Certain members of his household arranged to visit him for a feast, and the imprisoned lord invited his gaolers to join them. With a stunning lack of care for security, the guards fell straight into the trap. The men of the Berkeley household drew concealed weapons and threatened to kill them. A further twenty men were allowed into the castle. Their plan was thwarted when a boy living in the outer gatehouse guessed what was happening, and told the mayor of the town, who besieged the castle, and warned the Earls of Kent and Winchester, who were in the vicinity. Lord Berkeley was apprehended in the castle chapel.
Edward and Despenser hastened towards Wallingford to interrogate Berkeley in person, leaving Isabella at the Tower. She was there on 3 February, when she dined with her son, and again on the 17th.13 While scholars in the past have argued there is no evidence that Isabella was in touch with Roger at this stage, this is not necessarily correct, as on the latter occasion she wrote to the Treasurer on behalf of Lady Mortimer, Roger’s wife, who was being badly treated. At that time Joan was in the custody of the Sheriff of Hampshire. Thus Isabella had access to inside information which directly connected her to Roger’s wife while she was in the same building as Roger. Although it is clear from other evidence that normally Roger was kept very securely under lock and key, it is also clear that he was able to smuggle letters out of the castle. While we cannot be sure that Isabella received the message about Lady Mortimer from Roger himself, the most probable explanation as to how she learnt that Joan was being mistreated was that Roger informed her. It is thus more likely than not that Isabella was colluding with Roger in February 1323.
This begs the question of the nature of Roger’s relationship with Isabella. A meeting on or just before 17 February 1323 does not demonstrate anything more than that they were in contact. However, if Roger passed a message to Isabella, on which she acted, it does suggest they had an understanding. That they were drawn to each other, and were impressed with each other, is not in doubt, given later events. They were both wellborn, intelligent, sophisticated people. But the only evidence of the two of them acting together lies in the queen taking up Roger’s championing of a disgraced chamberlain of North Wales ten years earlier.14 While this absence of evidence should not be taken as an indication that they were not in contact, one should not assume at this point that their liaison was anything more than a political one. As to the question of what Isabella c
ould do to help Roger, this is perhaps answered by her returning to court soon afterwards.15 The likelihood is that Roger asked Isabella to spy on her husband, and to report any discovery by the king of any plots to free him.
Isabella was not the only person to be working towards Roger’s freedom. Under interrogation, Lord Berkeley confessed that his attempted escape was just the first part of an elaborate plan to release Roger from the Tower. Thomas de Newbiggin was arrested in South Wales for plotting to free him. Roger himself was working on an escape plan.16 He had persuaded the sub-lieutenant of the Tower, Gerard d’Alspaye, to help him. D’Alspaye was probably the man smuggling Roger’s letters out of the Tower, and passing them on to Roger’s contacts among the monastic clergy and London merchants, most notably John de Gisors and Richard de Bethune. In this way Roger was able to communicate with his network of powerful ecclesiastical supporters, such as the Bishops of Hereford (Adam of Orleton), Bath and Wells (John Droxford), Lincoln (Henry de Burghersh), and Ely (John de Hothum), and the Archbishop of Dublin (Alexander Bicknor), all of whom were beyond Edward II’s power. Unfortunately his letters to the Priors of Leominster and Wormsley and the Abbot of Wigmore were intercepted.17 As a result of these plots and Roger’s intercepted letters, Edward and Hugh Despenser realised that they would not be safe until Roger was dead. Roger would not have survived much longer if there had not been a spy in the royal household, almost certainly Isabella, who now sent word to London that Roger’s murder was planned for early August.18
The first of August was the feast of St Peter ad Vincula – St Peter in Chains – the patron saint of the Tower, whose chapel occupied a corner of the inner ward. At the time of the evening meal, most of the garrison made their way to the hall of the royal palace and, seated at the long tables there, began their festive eating and drinking. From the kitchen the cook sent out the meats and various dishes; from the buttery the butler produced the wine to be drunk on the special occasion of the feast. The castle gates were shut, and the prisoners locked in their cells. Almost all the men were present, carousing, with the exceptions only of the gate keepers and perhaps the occasional tower watchman. Stephen de Segrave, the lieutenant in charge of the castle, and Gerard d’Alspaye, the sub-lieutenant, sat among them. But d’Alspaye did not drink. More wine was offered, and slowly the hall filled with drunk, drugged, stumbling men. Stephen de Segrave himself lay unconscious. In the silence which followed, d’Alspaye hurried, with a crowbar and a rope ladder, to the cell in which Roger was locked up with another man, Richard de Monmouth.
The light was dim, but d’Alspaye had to work fast, with only a candle to see by. The door to the cell was heavily barred and padlocked so d’Alspaye had to lever out the stones one by one with the crowbar. The mortar being old, it gave way easily, and soon the first stones fell from the wall. Inside Roger had been praying to St Peter for help. He had sworn a vow that, if successful, he would build a chapel to the saint at Ludlow.19 Within a short while there was a ragged hole, and a few moments later Roger pushed his way through, followed by de Monmouth.20 Quickly the three men descended the stairs and made their way into the building next door, which was the kitchen of the king’s palace. There the cook, who had been informed about the escape, turned a blind eye as the three men climbed up through the huge chimney on to the roof. In the moonless night Roger and his accomplices felt their way across to the wall, and scrambled over the edge, using a rope ladder brought by d’Alspaye, and climbed down the high walls into the outer ward. From there they slung another rope ladder over the outer curtain wall and climbed up, and by the same rope ladder swiftly let themselves down the outer face to the river bank and into the marshy waters of the Thames. In the darkness they found two men waiting with a small boat. The three fugitives were rowed across the river to Greenwich, where four of Roger’s men-at-arms were in readiness, with spare horses. Without pausing for a moment, they mounted and rode off into the night.
Within hours there were men-at-arms in pursuit, riding along the highways up to the Marches, and to the king and Despenser to let them know the news. But they did not find Roger. They presumed he would be heading either to Wales or the south coast, probably Dover. Roger and his men knew that that was what they would expect, and went an indirect way. As the king’s men searched for him on the Dover road he was hurrying to Portchester, keeping out of sight of the guards on the highways. Near Portchester he was led to a place to which one Alice de Boarhunt had arranged for a boatswain from the Isle of Wight to bring a small vessel at the request of a London merchant, Ralph de Bocton.21 Roger and his six companions embarked. He ordered the boatswain to take him to the Isle of Wight, where one of de Bocton’s sea-going vessels was waiting to take him to Normandy. Within thirty-six hours of his escape he was out of the country.
Roger was not just at liberty. In attaining his own freedom he had become the most powerful symbol of freedom for all other Englishmen labouring under the tyranny of Edward II and Hugh Despenser. The chroniclers wrote of Roger as following God’s will, and being guided by an angel from his cell like St Peter himself. Later he would say that he knew truly that his escape was ordained by God through His mercy, and that he had been freed from the king’s hands for a purpose.
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NINE
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The King’s Enemy
THE KING WAS thrown into a fury on hearing of Roger’s escape. For the last eighteen months he had governed England with little or no check on his power. Suddenly he was thrown back to the days of the opposition of Thomas of Lancaster, except that Lancaster had been neither a clever man nor a difficult man to track down. Roger, on the other hand, was a sophisticated strategist and, more worryingly for Edward, he was nowhere to be found.
Edward was at Kirkham when he was told the news. From there he sent messengers to all the sheriffs and all the keepers of the peace in England to proclaim that ‘all and singular who are in the king’s peace shall pursue with hue and cry Roger Mortimer of Wigmore, the king’s rebel …, and that they shall arrest him alive or dead …’. The king also declared that any who were contrary or slow in their pursuit should be punished as abettors. He ordered spies to watch all the ports and to inquire whether Roger had yet crossed the sea, and, if so, who had taken him, and whither he had gone. Letters were sent to the constables of eighty castles, instructing them to ensure that all their prisoners were kept securely and that their garrisons were on the highest alert. The king also sent orders to the Justiciar of Wales to prepare all the Welsh castles for war, and he wrote to Sir John de Bermingham in Ireland for the castles there to be secured against Roger. All tournaments throughout the country were banned. Finally, Edward ordered the Bishop of Exeter, Walter de Stapeldon, to go to the Tower of London and take over from Stephen de Segrave. Edward was so unsure of his authority in the city that he ordered the bishop to go in his capacity as Treasurer, and only after entering was he to show his commission to take control of the castle.1
Throughout August the desperate commands continued, each one naming Roger as ‘the king’s rebel’ or ‘the king’s enemy’, but none betraying any knowledge of his whereabouts. By the 26th the king seems to have become convinced that Roger had left the country and was sailing to Ireland, as on that day he ordered the Earl of Kent to seize three Irish ships off the coast of Dover. He was still convinced that Roger was in Ireland two days later, when he sent letters to all the principal Irish lords, including several of Roger’s own vassals, ordering them to pursue him. Mayors of ports were ordered to search every item coming into and going out of the country for letters to or from Roger. The court was in complete panic. Edward fully expected Roger immediately to gather an army from his lands in Ireland, Wales and the Marches, and to come to do battle. But Roger was not so foolish as to attempt a confrontation without due preparation.
By the end of September the king’s spy network had established that Roger was in Picardy, in France, staying with his uncle and cousin, John and Robert de Fiennes. The king wro
te to the elder de Fiennes that he was ‘astonished’ at his harbouring Roger, since John held lands in England and was Edward’s vassal, and because Edward had favoured him in the past. Both John and Robert were ordered to arrest Roger. Needless to say, they ignored the command.
One can understand the king’s fear of imminent attack. Everything was going Roger’s way. He had not only escaped the Tower, he had succeeded in getting out of the country and finding safe refuge beyond the king’s reach. He had eluded Edward so effectively that for a long time the king did not know where he was, or where he was heading. Even now the king had only the slightest grasp of Roger’s location, and no intelligence regarding his plans. Because of this, and because of the hatred of the Despensers, support for Roger was gathering at home, and various demonstrations in his favour took place, normally in the form of attacks on the manors of the Despensers. But Roger’s luck did not end there. His third son, Geoffrey, was also in France, and Geoffrey was the sole heir to the estates of his grandmother, Joan’s mother, which included a portion of the de Lusignan inheritance. Just before Roger escaped from the Tower, old age conveniently carried her off.2 By the end of 1323 Geoffrey had inherited her estates, had sworn fealty to the French king, and was thus able to help support his father.