by Ian Mortimer
No one knew quite what to expect at the beginning of 1330. Edward now learnt that Philippa was pregnant, and expecting their first child. Mortimer, fully aware of the danger to them all, was plotting. So too was Kent. They all came together for the coronation of Queen Philippa at Westminster Abbey on 18 February.
The records do not show how tense the situation was. The only documents which shed any light on that day are those which show what the queen was wearing. The fantastic ostentation is worth quoting, for it contrasts so completely with the antagonisms at court. It was almost as if Edward was ordering Philippa to spend as much as she possibly could in order to emphasise his right to empty the royal purse. For her journey from the Tower of London to Westminster on the eve of her coronation, Philippa wore a tunic comprising nine-and-a-half ells of green velvet cloth; for the cape she wore on the same occasion 'three of the very best red cloths of gold spinet', along with a selection of miniver furs. The next day - the day of her coronation - she wore, in the morning, a robe of seven cloths 'of green gold spinet of the very best quality'; a fur hood and fur cap. Then she changed, and wore a lined tunic and a lined mantel of red and grey samite for her anointing and coronation. This took place before the high altar of Westminster Abbey, Philippa being crowned by the new archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Meopham. She changed again for lunch, and wore a tunic and a mantel 'of the very best purple cloth of gold spinet and a hood of miniver fur'. For supper she changed again, and wore a robe of the very best gold spinet, a miniver fur and a miniver hood and fur cape. Finally, after her coronation, she dressed in a robe of the very best cloth of gold, and yet more furs, this time of ermine. According to the annalist of St Paul's, there was a great procession, and the queen rode between Edward's two uncles - Kent and Norfolk - who dressed as pages and rode on palfreys with her to the abbey. One wonders at the pleasantries which passed, the conversations which bubbled over the deep anxiety felt by Kent, Edward, Philippa, Mortimer and Isabella.
In fact the situation was worse than any member of the royal family could have guessed, including Kent. Mortimer now had the means to bring the crisis to a head. He had managed to obtain from his agent, John Deveril, at Corfe Castle, written proof of the earl of Kent's plot to release Edward II and dethrone Edward III. The incriminating letter had been written by Mortimer's own cousin, Margaret Wake, Kent's wife. Mortimer had to respond. His response would be cold and severe. He would have to betray the continued existence of the old king, but that perhaps was not such a bad thing for him, as he would thereby undermine Edward's authority. Either way he could not delay. Kent's plot was about to spring Edward II from Corfe. The archbishop of York had even written to the mayor of London to arrange for the deliver)' of clothes for the old king after his release. The rumours were rife, incriminating letters were being passed from hand to hand. Mortimer must have considered this might be his only chance to save himself and Isabella, and perhaps to stave off a civil war between his own faction, fighting in the name of Edward III, and those who, like Kent, wished to see Edward II restored.
*
At Winchester, on 13 March, Mortimer made his move. In the hall of the castle, in the king's presence and with the lords all assembled, he announced that he had arrested the king's uncle, the eari of Kent, on a charge of treason.
The stakes could not have been higher. Calculations had been piled on calculations; risks on risks. Edward probably trusted Mortimer to keep his father's survival secret, even at this stage, even though many of those attending parliament knew the truth. If the ex-king's survival became an open matter for debate, then he, Edward, could be accused of breaking the terms of Magna Carta, and keeping a man wrongly imprisoned. His uncles had, in fact, already accused him of exacdy that crime. If his father were to be released and restored - and such was the opposition to Mortimer now that many thought this an appropriate course of action - Edward would find himself dethroned. Mortimer would be hanged and quartered, Isabella divorced and sent to a nunnery. Edward himself might even be arrested for treason. He might very easily find himself in Kent's place. All the key personalities had much to lose, and for once Mortimer was not an exception.
What Edward was probably only just beginning to understand was how far the information about his father had gone. Kent had been very successful in attracting support. The pope had promised unlimited funds. The archbishop of York had offered £5,000. Sir Ingelram Berengar had discussed the plan with Kent several times, the last in Kent's room above the chapel at Arundel Castle. Sir Fulk Fitzwarin said it would be the 'noblest deed ever accomplished'. Lord Beaumont was deeply implicated, so too was Sir Thomas Roscelyn. Kent's brother-in-law, Lord Thomas Wake, another of Mortimer's cousins, was an accomplice. So were Lady Vesci, the Scottish earl of Mar, and Sir John Pecche. Add to these Lord Zouche, the bishop of London and the earl of Lancaster, and things began to look very grave for Edward indeed.
Mortimer proceeded undaunted. He himself acted as the prosecutor, in a court specially arranged for the purpose of trying Kent. He made no attempt to cover up the secret of the ex-king's survival and custody.
Sir Edmund, earl of Kent, you should understand that it behoves us to say, and principally unto our liege lord, Sir Edward, king of England -whom Almighty God save and keep - that you are his deadly enemy and a traitor and also a common enemy unto the realm; and that you have been about many a day to make privily deliverance of Sir Edward, sometime king of England, your brother, who was put down out of his royalty by common assent of all the lords of England, and in impairing of our lord the king's estate, and also of his realm.
If Kent had harboured an illusion that rescuing a wrongly imprisoned kinsman was in some way not a crime, then it was shattered instantly. He falteringly replied: 'In truth, Sir, understand well that I never assented to the impairment of the state of our lord the king, nor of his crown, and that I put myself to be tried before my peers.' But he must have known that no plea could save him from Mortimer's judgement. And Edward too must have realised that Mortimer was going to push all the way: there would be no pretending that Edward's father was dead. If Edward himself openly denied it, then Mortimer could denounce him there and then, and reveal all. The whole royal family was on trial.
Edward kept silent. Mortimer continued. He held up a letter which, he explained, had been handed to his agent at Corfe Castle. It bore a seal. To Kent he showed the letter and said: 'Sir Edmund, do you not know this letter that you sent to Sir John Deveril?' The earl's seal was clearly visible, and he agreed it was his, but it was of no value, he protested, as he had sent many letters. Perhaps Kent genuinely did not know what this particular letter said. But Mortimer knew. He began to read the letter aloud:
Worshipful and dear brother, I pray heartily that you are of good comfort, for I shall ordain for you, that you shall soon come out of prison, and be delivered of that disease in which you find yourself. Your lordship should know that I have die assent of almost all the great lords of England, with all their apparel, that is to say with armour, and with treasure without limit, in order to maintain and help you in your quarrel so you shall be king again as you were before.
There was no denying this evidence. Edward could see that his uncle was damned. Worse, he himself was demonstrably guilty of keeping his father hidden, and of having given orders for, and attended, a fake royal funeral. Could he plead ignorance? Would anyone listen if he did? His confidence had been broken, and broken again, so that many of the men now present suspected that he himself may have led Kent into this trap, and here, almost crowing, was Mortimer, who was setting his father and uncle against him.
Still Edward kept silent. The sentence was read out. Kent was told that:
the tenor of this your letter is that you were on the point of rescuing that worshipful knight Sir Edward, sometime king of England, your brother, and to help him become king again, and to govern his people as he was wont to do beforehand, thus impairing the state of our liege lord the present king ... The will of this court is th
at you shall lose both life and limb, and that your heirs shall be disinherited for evermore, save the grace of our lord the king.
The sentence resounded around the hall. Edward heard the words 'save the grace of our lord the king' and knew he could no longer keep silent. The moment had come to decide. Kent, having heard that he was to die, in tears began to plead for his life. He admitted he had not considered the king in all his plotting, and he wholly submitted to him. He promised, if the king so desired, that he would walk through the streets of Winchester, or even all the way to London, barefoot, with a rope around his neck, in atonement. The man was terrified and humiliated, and begged Edward, his nephew, for his life.
'Save the grace of our lord the king.' Edward's kingship had crumbled into disaster. Everything — loyalty, affection, kinship, pity — suggested that he should save his terrified uncle, who had acted only out of love for his brother. But in Mortimer's open assertion that Edward II was still alive, Edward could see that he himself was under threat. Mortimer claimed descent from Arthur: die line which, it had been prophesied, would one day rule all England and Wales. Mortimer had presented his sons as earls; he had claimed the premier earldom in the kingdom; he had defeated his only rival, Lancaster, and was speaking and acting as if he, not Edward, was king. He had already once put himself forward as a possible monarch.
This trial was not about the earl of Kent, it was about Mortimer's power. Mortimer was the enemy here, not Kent. The prosecutor was the guilty party. But there was nothing Edward could do to stop him. Nor would he ever be able to stop him if men like his uncle saw his father's restoration as the best way to prevent Mortimer from achieving the throne. Edward realised he had to demonstrate to all those who knew that his father was still alive that he would never give up his right to be king. With a pitiful heart, he understood what he had to do. He sentenced his uncle to death.
*
On 19 March 1330 the earl of Kent was led out of prison, his hands bound. He was to be beheaded. Bravely, the captain of the guard declared that his men had refused to carry out the sentence. This embarrassed Mortimer, but the captain was steadfast, and so were his men. Mortimer and those who had gathered for the execution waited. Eventually Mortimer ordered the gaols to be searched for a man prepared to do his bidding, and a latrine cleaner, himself sentenced to death for murder, agreed to kill the earl in return for his life. He was brought out to confront his royal victim. So the blow was wielded by a criminal. And thus Edward sacrificed his uncle.
The fall of the axe meant one thing was certain: Edward would avenge his uncle's death. From that moment on there could be no drawing back from his determination to put an end to Mortimer's rule.
Mortimer was not unaware of the changed situation, but he was too involved to be able to extricate himself. How could he? He had kept Edward II alive — perhaps out of consideration for Isabella's wishes, perhaps out of his own desire to control the young king, perhaps both - and now he was guilty of having kept an anointed king hidden, illegally, for more than two years. If he withdrew from court now, Edward IH would surely come after him and seek revenge. Besides, he would lose Isabella if he withdrew, or went into exile; and he may well have been devoted to her emotionally, even beyond the limits of his excessive ambition. From Mortimer's point of view, all he could do was to keep his nerve, to use his wits to keep in control, for as long as possible.
From the day of Kent's execution, Mortimer had exactly seven months of freedom left. In that time he certainly used his wits. He rallied troops, he appropriated lands and wealth, and he did all he could to keep Edward in his place. A plot arranged by Richard Fitzalan, heir to the earldom of Arundel, was discovered by Mortimer and foiled. But Mortimer's authority was diminishing by the day. Magnificent he may have been, feared he certainly was; but the young generation of knights at court were of a mind to fight for their king. Long before 19 October Edward knew whom he could trust. William Montagu had returned from Avignon, and he was willing to take action. It did not matter how many troops Mortimer inspected in his show of strength. The revolution would not be an invasion, it would come from within. The only question for these young knights of St George was how to strike the dragon, and avoid being scorched in its dying fire.
The politeness continued. Edward had learnt how to play the games of diplomacy. As late as 28 July Edward included Mortimer amongst those to whom he gave elaborate Turkish clothes for the summer season, along with his mother, his wife and his sister, Eleanor. They were still at Woodstock then, where Edward learned he had become a father. Philippa had given birth to a son, Edward - the future Black Prince - on 15 June. Edward was ecstatic, and gave the valet who brought him the news forty marks yearly for life. Maybe this was why his mood was light enough for him to give Mortimer presents of Turkish cloth that summer. Maybe these were the last attempts to cover up the plots being hatched. Either way, it is much easier to give gifts to a mortal enemy knowing you have marked him down to die.
The third day of the parliament held at Nottingham Castle was 19 October. Tempers had flared in the days before, the hatred and fear on all sides had become obvious. Mortimer had arrived to find that Lancaster had been given rooms in the castle. He flew into a rage and demanded to know who had dared house so great an enemy of the queen so close to her. On his orders the earl was directed to be removed and lodged at a merchant's house in the town. Mortimer also gave orders that the men of the garrison were to obey his orders, and not the king's. This was utterly outrageous. Just as shocking was his confiscation of the keys to the castle, which he handed to Isabella.
The king's friends were near to taking action. They hesitated at this last violent outburst from Mortimer, not quite knowing what he was planning. Some urged Edward to accuse Mortimer openly of murdering Edward II, and to arrest him. That way, even if the king's father were to appear in public, he could be declared an impostor and set aside. But Edward was reluctant to follow this path: it held too many pitfalls. Besides, he now knew that his secret information was being passed directly to Mortimer by John Wyard. As first Montagu, and then Humphrey and William Bohun, Ralph Stafford, Robert Ufford and John Neville of Hornby, were each led before Mortimer and interrogated, Edward realised that a more immediate and complete strategy was required.
At this point William Eland changed the course of history. Eland was the man who told the plotters about the secret passage which led from the riverbank up into the queen's apartments. It seems that he told Edward first, and the king sent him to Montagu with orders to give him the same information. This is the most likely sequence of events given the wording of Montagu's charter of reward. Edward states clearly that he revealed his own secret design for the arrest of Mortimer and his accomplices to Montagu, and that Montagu was 'strenuous' in carrying out the plan.63 Sir Thomas Gray, writing twenty years later, tells us that the king instructed Montagu to order Eland on pain of death to leave a postern gate to the park open, which suggests that, until that moment, there was some doubt over Eland's loyalty. This postern may have been at the bottom or the top of the secret passage, or possibly both. The chronicle known as The Brut relates a conversation between Montagu and Eland in which Montagu asked Eland for the keys of the castle that night, and Eland pointed out that Isabella kept them under her pillow, but told him about the secret passage. Edward saw his opportunity to seize Mortimer without alerting his troops.
We cannot know the precise movements of each person that night, but some things are clear. The lower entrance to the passage was left unlocked by Eland or on his instructions, and perhaps an upper door was unlocked by one of Edward's accomplices within the castle. Eland himself was with Montagu. From the inclusion of certain non-combatants among those rewarded for assisting in the coup, especially Pancio de Controne and Robert Wyville, it would appear that these men also helped in the operation, very probably assisting in the entry of the armed men. As de Controne was a physician, it is possible that his role was to support Edward's alibi of ill-health, as Edward
would not have wanted to be with Mortimer and Isabella when the fight to arrest them broke out.
According to Sir Thomas Gray, after ascending the stairs from the tunnel, Montagu and his accomplices were undetected as it was 'mirk night'. The followers of the nobles had left the castle and returned to their lodgings in the town. Isabella, Mortimer, his sons Geoffrey and Edmund Mortimer, Simon Bereford, Sir Hugh Turpington, and Bishop Burghersh were in the hall of the queen's lodgings discussing what action was to be taken against the plotters. Various other esquires and men-at-arms stood guard, but they were few. Most of Mortimer's men were billeted in an outer ward of the castle, at a considerable distance, or on watch on the outer walls. As steward of the household, it was Turpington's responsibility to make sure that the servants and guards were attending to their business. He was probably in the course of a routine check about the castle when he saw the armed group advancing up the stairs to the queen's apartments. Had he withdrawn at that moment he might have saved himself, but Turpington had fought alongside Mortimer since at least 1310, and his response was unquestioning and immediate. Turpington's dying shout alerted everyone within the hall, and, in the next few moments, as Montagu, Neville and the other assailants rushed to the door of the hall, the household esquires ran to defend the entry. In the struggle which followed, several esquires were injured and two were killed: Richard Crombek and Richard Monmouth. As they fought, Mortimer left the hall and went into the queen's chamber to seize his sword. Bishop Burghersh followed him, not to fight but to try and escape. But Montagu had enough men to capitalise on the surprise of his attack. Within a short while Mortimer had been disarmed, and his sons Geoffrey and Edmund had been arrested, along with Simon Bereford. Isabella, inviolable as the king's mother, simply screamed despairingly at the door of the chamber into the dark corridor beyond, suspecting Edward to be present.