by Ian Mortimer
It was thus in an environment of gold, in the most sacred space of the abbey, near the relics of St Edward the Confessor, and the gold-covered remains of his venerated grandfather, Edward I, that Edward swore his vows of kingship. These too were wholly orthodox, consisting of the four-part oath which his father had sworn at his coronation in 1308. Edward III promised to confirm the laws and customs of the people of England, to observe the rights of the Church, to do justice equally to all his people, and 'to hold and keep the rightful laws and customs that the community of the realm shall choose, and to defend and strengthen them'.*9 This last clause had been designed specially to preserve the power of parliament from the encroachments of Edward II’s unpredictable self-mindedness. Now, in its repetition at Edward Hi's coronation, Mortimer forced the same safeguard on the son. Parliament had as great a reason to support this reign as it had had to end the previous one. The king's responsibility to respect the views of parliament was thus confirmed as a permanent feature of the developing English constitution.
Coronations were times for promotion and celebration too. One important part of this was the creation of new knights. After Edward himself had been knighted — either by Lancaster or John of Hainault — Edward set about dubbing knights, as custom dictated.3" Unfortunately for him, this was yet another aspect of his coronation controlled by others. Mortimer decided that his own sons should take precedence, and to emphasise their importance - and thus his own - he ordered that they should be dressed in clothes suitable for earls. Edward may have felt a need to retaliate with a few suggestions of his own, and among the knights created on the day of the coronation we find several who served him loyally for many years: Ralph Stafford, John Neville, William Percy; John Meules, Ralph Willington, Gerard Lisle, Hugh Courtenay, Ralph Daubigny, and Peter Mauley, nephew of his old steward.3' All these men were dressed splendidly in scarlet, green and brown cloth, with miniver and squirrel furs. Mortimer's sons were as splendidly dressed as their father, with even larger furs and cloth of gold adorning their scarlet, green and brown tunics and mantles.
In all these events of early 1327, from the deposition of his father to his own coronation, one senses a certain distance in the young king. It is not so much what is to be read in the records of the events; it is more what one does not read. The king was crowned, but it may as well have been Mortimer's coronation. Mortimer's order to dress his sons as earls was an ominous sign: only kings' sons automatically were accorded the status of earls. On the day of Edward's coronation, Mortimer was setting himself up as a king. Pomp there may have been, knighthood and lavish feasting too; but there are no references to the king doing anything other than going through with the ceremony. True, there were many gifts given, but they were given to Mortimer's friends, not Edward's. On the day of the coronation, Bishop Orleton was given a number of items from the royal treasury.32 Mortimer's cousin, Thomas Vere, was handed two gilt silver basins engraved with the arms of England and France in lieu of his being chamberlain at the coronation. Another of his cousins, Thomas Wake, was given a gilded silver salt cellar in return for playing the part of pander. The earl of Lancaster, an older royal cousin whom Edward did not wholly trust, was handed a number of silver dishes and spoons stamped with images of leopards in lieu of his being steward on the day. Mortimer's friend, Richard Bettoyne, mayor of London, who had helped threaten the members of parliament into supporting the deposition, and who acted as chief butler at the coronation, was allowed to keep an engraved gold cup and an enamelled gold ewer. Even Isabella, Edward's own mother shocked him on the day of the coronation, awarding to herself the annual sum of twenty thousand marks (£13,333): probably the largest personal income appropriated by an individual in medieval England. Adam Murimuth, a canon of St Paul's, was stunned: 'to her son she left barely the third part of his kingdom,' he wrote. This was not quite accurate, it amounted to only a third of the royal revenue.36 But the spirit of his exclamation was correct: the remaining two-thirds were controlled by Mortimer and Isabella.
The impression one has is that of a boy - albeit a king — with few close friends, shuttered off from the world, partly through his unique position and partly through the threatening ambitions of his mother and Mortimer. Around him the majesty of the court was swirling and laughing, delighting in its newly found wealth. But at the eye of the whirling storm he sat alone on his throne, not knowing what was going to happen next.
THREE
The Devil for Wrath
Two days after his coronation, Edward presided over his first parliament as king. It was obvious that two of his lords would dominate. One of these was the earl of Lancaster: garrulous, proud, and angry that for so long he had been deprived of his rightful inheritance. He was a royal earl, a grandson of Henry III, and the richest lord in the country, and therefore had a good reason to consider himself pre-eminent. But Isabella did not like him, nor did she trust him. The other lord was Mortimer, who disliked him every bit as much as Isabella, and did not trust him at all.
Lancaster stormed through that first parliament. As Edward watched from his throne the earl put forward a whole gamut of petitions. He proposed that he and the invaders should be pardoned for any wrongdoings, that his dead brother Thomas be pardoned for his part in opposing Edward II, and that accordingly he should receive his brother's full inheritance. Edward listened and assented, refusing only to grant the part of Lancaster's inheritance which Isabella had already taken for herself. Mortimer kept a low profile. Lancaster continued. As the king was under age, there should be a council of regency, composed of twelve or fourteen men, which he (Lancaster) would lead. And so the whole Lancastrian programme was rolled out. Many grievances dating back to the days of Thomas of Lancaster were aired: curbs on the abuses of gaolers, restrictions on the appointments of justices of the peace, rules against the king making contracts with lords to supply troops, restrictions on taxation. Lancaster was given an open field.
The power game which was developing during that parliament was subtle. Lancaster was trying to set the political agenda, as his brother had done before him, and to use parliament to reinforce his influence over a weak monarchy. Edward was in no position to do anything but take advice and play the official role of monarch, acquiescing to the council of regency. Mortimer's strategy was totally different. He would not challenge Lancaster in parliament. He would allow the earl to dominate that forum. He did not mind if royal authority appeared weak. But through Queen Isabella, Mortimer had royal influence. He would let Lancaster play the part of a political leader while, behind the scenes, he played the king.
Mortimer's subtlety in wresting control from Lancaster went much further than parliamentary contests. When Edward II had abdicated he had been promised that he would continue to enjoy regal status as he had before. And so he did at Kenilworth, under Lancaster's guard. But certain lords did not see why the ex-king should be kept in prison. In addition, in March the Dunheved brothers, fanatical supporters of Edward II, tried to set him free. Mortimer could see that, whoever had custody of the ex-king wielded an instrument of great power. Since medieval kings were, by their very existence, royal, they could revoke any law which had been forced upon them. If Mortimer and Isabella were to lose favour, and if Edward II were to be freed, they might see the country reinstate the old king. Edward, still under-age, might find his father, as his guardian, commanding him to give up power. Mortimer and Isabella decided that Lancaster could not be trusted with such political leverage. As a result, Mortimer secured a royal writ to remove Edward II from Kenilworth. In March he left court and supervised the removal himself, with an armed retinue, much to Lancaster's fury. The old king was taken to Berkeley Castle and placed under the care of two of Mortimer's most trusted supporters: his son-in-law, Lord Berkeley, and his old comrade-in-arms, Sir John Maltravers.
To Edward, these developments were deeply disturbing. Neither Mortimer nor Lancaster was to be trusted. Lancaster was clearly following his own agenda: insisting, for example, that the young
king confirm that he was bound by Magna Carta and the laws of the forest. And Mortimer was clearly a law unto himself, working through people, not institutions or ordinances. Isabella too was another force in the land. Her priority, however, was more straightforward. She sought money, in vast quantities. In addition to her twenty thousand marks a year, she now demanded another twenty thousand pounds to clear her debts. Edward could not stop her any more than he could stop Mortimer.
Although only fourteen, and therefore seven years short of being able to rule without a council of regency (in theory), Edward knew that young men who proved themselves in war could dispense with the need for councils and advisers. Richard Bury, full of historical anecdotes, had probably advised him that Mortimer himself had been advanced to his inheritance because of his soldierly prowess at a time when the then king needed knights. So too had some of the young men at court, such as Robert Ufford. Edward was supposed to be the new King Arthur. Had that legendary leader not also won renown as a youth, and come to the throne in his fifteenth year? Edward could see that in order to prove himself a king, he would have to be more than a well-dressed puppet on the throne.
The royal accounts for 1327 are littered with payments for armour for Edward. He commissioned his armourers to produce hauberks, greaves, lances, bascinets with visors (the latest style of protective helmet), gauntlets, trousers and breeches, and many other items of personal armorial wear. He ordered decorated aketons (protective stuffed leather jerkins), gilded lances and armour for tournaments. Some of his tournament armour was decorated with images of flowers and animals; some with royal emblems, such as leopards and crowns. Most importantly, he put this armour to use, as shown by a payment for enlarging his hauberk.5 Edward took part in tournaments, and, aware of what was expected of him, he made himself as obvious and as visible as possible. Although only fourteen, he was trying to live up to his destiny.
Edward's need for a war to assert himself had an unlikely parallel north of the border. The Scots were no less aware than the English that this new king was prophesied to be the all-conquering King Arthur. In order to retaliate with a little propaganda of their own, they chose the day of the coronation to launch an attack on Norham Castle. Their plan went disastrously wrong after the governor of the castle heard rumours in advance, and the attackers were repulsed with the loss of several men. Nevertheless it was an indication that the Scots were no longer satisfied with the truce which had been signed in 1323. In particular, they were not happy that a promise made by Mortimer and Isabella before the invasion had not been honoured. To ensure Scots neutrality, Mortimer and Isabella had assured the Scottish representatives that if the invasion was successful, they would recognise Scotland as an independent kingdom. Isabella had entered into further negotiations just after Christmas 1326, but talks had already broken down. Robert Bruce was growing ill and old: an independent Scotland was his last great ambition. By the spring, he wanted action.
Mortimer and Isabella did not want war. They had gone so far as to sign an embarrassingly one-sided treaty with France in March in order to make sure they would not have to fight in Gascony.7 Lancaster, however, had good reasons to want the north armed and ready to fight. Bruce had demanded that the northern English barons give up their rights to their Scottish estates. In reality, the northerners had long since lost control of these lands, but they cherished their nominal rights nonetheless. Isabella could not persuade Lancaster and the other northern lords to surrender them. Thus there could be no lasting peace, and thus there would be repeated attacks on the northern marches of England by the Scottish king's men until the matter was resolved. Negotiations led by Lord Percy in February and March failed. In April, the army was ordered to muster in preparation for an attack. Mortimer and Isabella still hoped for a peaceful settlement but Bruce did not trust them. Moreover, he knew that, if they wanted peace, he could not lose by waging war. He would send an army to harry the northern counties until the English leaders bought the peace they wanted by recognising Scotland's independence.
The consequent campaign was arranged with more ceremony than strategy on the part of the English. Positions of authority went to all three royal earls - Lancaster, Norfolk and Kent - with Lancaster in overall control. But no one doubted that Mortimer was really in charge. He had considerably more battlefield experience than the earls. Hainaulter mercenaries joined them at York, where a riot - which resulted in several hundred deaths - was only quelled by the king and his magnates riding through the streets to restore order. Edward could take a measure of pride in his appearance being the decisive factor in calming the riot, but the omens for the campaign were not good.
Still, this was his great opportunity, and he was determined to make the most of it. On i July he set out with the army and began the march to Durham, with trumpets sounding and pennons fluttering. Although the chronicler who recorded these details - Jean le Bel - does not describe the pennons in detail, they bore the arms of St George. This was not the first time St George had been adopted by an English army in the field; both Edward I and Edward II had carried pennons bearing the red cross on white background. But on that occasion the pennons had been mixed with those of St Edmund and St Edward, kings of England. This time, only the arms of St George were specifically made. Eighteen hundred of them were ordered to be taken to Stanhope. During the campaign, more were ordered, including some for the king's own trumpet. It seems Edward was calling the warrior-saint to stand by him, perhaps as an emblem of his prophesied status as a champion of God.
Unfortunately for Edward, the English forces were slow and cumbersome. The Scots by comparison were supremely manoeuvrable. Under the command of Sir Thomas Randolph and Black Douglas, they ran rings around the English force. Seeing they had been outwitted again, and not knowing whether the Scots were planning to attack the queen mother at York, or were in retreat to Scotland, one of the commanders ordered a sudden dash to the north to cut them off." It was an unwise decision, for it split the footsoldiers from the mounted men-at-arms. And the supply wagons were left far behind. By the time the English had regrouped at Haydon Bridge, on the River Tyne, many of the men were hungry, soaked with the heavy rains, tired, and starving. Worse, they had no idea where their enemy was.
At this point Edward tried to take control of the situation. He sent word among his bedraggled and downhearted men that whoever would tell him where the Scots were would receive a knighthood and an income of one hundred pounds a year for life. Esquires set out immediately in all directions. One, Thomas Rokeby, not only found the Scots, he was captured by them. When he told them of his mission they laughed and let him go. Rokeby returned to Edward and admitted he had been captured. Edward acknowledged his honesty and, true to his word, knighted him. Rokeby might have been successful in a most inglorious fashion, but he had given Edward the initiative he wanted. He also gave Edward the opportunity to demonstrate that the king intended to honour his promises. The king ordered the army to be prepared, and masses to be sung, and called for his confessor.
The army set out that morning. They passed the burnt-out ruins of Blanchland Priory and continued on towards the Scots' position. Edward was determined to do battle: his mind was fastened on what was required of a king. And the men around him, his bodyguard, would have been aware that this young man truly meant to fight, and that they were bound to fight to the death to protect him. At about midday, as they came towards a steep hill on the far side of the River Wear, the Scots army appeared, gathering themselves into battalions on the slope.
The tension mounted, on both sides. The Scots were in an unassailable position, but Edward was not going to hold back. More than just Scottish independence was at stake: Edward's self-esteem and personal authority hung in the balance. The English army drew up below the Scots' position, on the near side of the river, in readiness. Edward, on horseback, rode among them, calling out encouragement. This was unusual for an English king; his father certainly had not done likewise. But Edward wanted everyone there to see he
was different from his father. He wanted men to see that he would willingly share their danger. Occasionally he stopped, and dubbed a man a knight there and then. Then he rode on, telling the men that, under pain of death, no one was to attack until the order for the whole battalion to move was given.
Then the advance began. The army moved forward in slow time, to see whether the Scots would withdraw. They did not. Closer and closer the English approached, die crosses of St George flapping in the wind before them, until the two sides were in arrow range, and they could recognise the nobles on the opposing side by their coats of arms. The Scots stared back. The English came to the river. Then Mortimer called a halt.
After the failure of a contingent of archers to break the Scots' position, Mortimer called off the attack.
Edward was furious. Who was Mortimer to give orders? And who was he to take away Edward's chance of glory? But the truth was that Mortimer was in control, and even he was nervous. His priorities were to keep the young king from danger, to drive the Scots out of England and allow them to pass back into their own country without great loss, so that they would sign a treaty. He could not see how he could attack the Scots in their present position without risking all these things; they had chosen a spot which was too well-defended. The young king had to be held back. To break the deadlock, Mortimer agreed to allow heralds to cross the river to ask the Scots to fight a fair pitched battle, as the king wanted.