by Ian Mortimer
All the prisoners were marched down to the basement of the queen's apartment, and down the spiral staircase into the secret passage, down to the riverbank and through the park. They were taken to Leicester. Such was Edward's fear of Mortimer that he rode with the men who removed him, and ordered them to hang him as soon as they reached Leicester. But Lancaster, who had also ridden with Edward and his knights, urged him to use parliamentary approval for Mortimer's execution. A show trial was needed, if only to reinforce the idea that Edward II was dead, and that Mortimer had killed him. Lancaster - who had now become reconciled to Edward, and clearly must have apologised for his earlier behaviour - persuaded the king. Mortimer was taken to the Tower of London.
Just as the execution of his uncle had been a pivotal moment in Edward's development as a man, so now the destruction of Mortimer's authority was-a pivotal moment in his development as a king. Having accompanied Mortimer all the way to London, Edward ordered him, his son Geoffrey Mortimer and Simon Bereford to be walled up in one of the rooms. The doors and windows were accordingly filled in by a mason. Six royal sergeants-at-arms under the command of two knights of the royal household, Robert Walkefare and Arnold Duroforti, were stationed around the room to make sure Mortimer did not repeat his 1323 escape. There, in the darkness, Mortimer waited for a month before he was sentenced. Perhaps Edward ordered this in reflection of the conditions in which his father had been held. On this we can only speculate. But one aspect of the incarceration is very interesting: it was not just any room into which Mortimer was sealed. It was the one next to Edward's own.
FOUR
Absolute Royalty
On 26 November 1330 Edward had Mortimer dragged before parliament, bound and gagged. He sentenced him to death for fourteen specific crimes, most of which were prefaced by the accusation that Mortimer had 'accroached the royal power'. It has generally been assumed that this marks the moment when Edward took absolute control of his kingdom, and it is true that with Mortimer's downfall the major obstacle to Edward's direct rule was removed. But many challenges remained. Before he could recognise his ambitions, Edward would have to wait until he was older, more trusted as a leader, and more confident.
First there was the problem of what to do with the old regime, its victims as well as its supporters. There was the issue of the lands and treasure which Mortimer and his friends had amassed, including the fortune gathered by Isabella. What should Edward do with the people they had obstructed or disempowered, and the estates of those they had executed, such as Hugh Despenser and the earl of Kent? Disinherited lords could be reinstated, as with the earl of Kent's son; but what about those whom Mortimer had locked up for good reason? What about Mortimer's family and the families of his supporters? And what about their actions before 1326? One of Mortimer's Irish tenants, Hugh Lacy, came to court seeking redress for accusations of treason brought against him in 1317, when Mortimer had been a highly respected King's Lieutenant of Ireland.1 Such grievances had to be treated on their individual circumstances. It would have been unwise simply to revoke all of Mortimer's actions.
Edward proceeded cautiously. On the way south from Nottingham, just four days after the arrests, he ordered Mortimer's treasure to be handed over to Richard Bury, along with that of Queen Isabella. Mortimer's lands were confiscated. Isabella voluntarily surrendered her vast estates at the end of November. The pope was very quick to get involved, writing to Edward immediately requesting that he deal leniently with Isabella and Mortimer.4 In fact, so seriously did the pope take the matter that he sent two copies of his letter on behalf of Isabella to Edward, in case one should be lost. The pope wrote at the same time to Queen Philippa, the earl of Lancaster, William Montagu and the bishop of Winchester exhorting them all to use their influence to help Isabella, Mortimer and the bishop of Lincoln. Such intentions were not lost on Edward, who knew he would need the pope's support in the years to come. Isabella was placed temporarily under house arrest. The bishop of Lincoln was left unmolested.
The real problem facing Edward was how to proceed against those who were the closest intimates of Mortimer, the handful of men who knew what had happened to Edward II. This was a matter of the greatest delicacy. The strategy he adopted was brilliant: Mortimer had concocted the 'death' of Edward II; so Edward III would maintain that his father really was dead, and that he had been murdered on Mortimer's orders. In this way, although he had no idea where his father was, he could set aside any attempts to restore him during his own minority, just as Mortimer had done. He also could restore the son of the earl of Kent to his rightful inheritance and pardon his poor dead uncle, which he did. But this strategy did carry one great difficulty. It raised the question of how Edward should treat the men who thus were implicated in a fictitious royal murder. Obviously he would have to take action against them. Fortunately, all the ringleaders fled except one. Lord Berkeley remained. Defiantly he maintained in parliament that the ex-king was not dead.5 Edward showed great awareness and intelligence in his response. He quickly took the initiative and came to an understanding with Berkeley. The official announcement of the death would be maintained, but Berkeley himself would not be held guilty of the fictitious death.'"
In this context, Mortimer was the least of Edward's worries. He was sentenced to be dragged to the gallows at Tyburn, then hanged. On the day of his execution he was made to wear the black tunic he had worn at Edward II’s funeral.7 Isabella's movements were restricted for several months. Then she received her liberty and the income she had held before the ascendancy of the Despensers: the substantial sum of £3,000 per year. Edward waited a week after the parliamentary trials before ordering the arrest of Maltravers for arranging Kent's death and the arrests of the other men involved in the supposed 'murder' of Edward II. They had already fled, of course, but Edward had to be seen to be taking action against the supposed killers of his father. Moreover, he wanted one of Mortimer's supporters in particular brought to him. This was Thomas Gurney, the man who had originally brought him the news of his father's 'death', knowing it was false. Gurney was arrested in Spain, and died three years later of a sudden illness on the way back to England. As for other members of die Mortimer faction, the dictator's widow, Joan, eventually received her lands back, with a full recompense for her lost income. Lord Berkeley was notionally held over on the charge of appointing the men who were supposed to have killed Edward II, but he was neither incarcerated nor deprived of his lands or revenues.
In this way Edward coped with a serious dilemma. On the one hand he had to be seen to take firm action against Mortimer's adherents. On the other, he had to be careful lest he be accused of creating false 'crimes' in order to discredit men for the sake of his own reputation, especially in the case of Lord Berkeley. Only two men - Mortimer himself and his henchman, Simon Bereford - were executed as a result of the coup. Even Geoffrey, Mortimer's son, who was walled up with his father in the Tower, was released without charge. Mortimer's eldest son, Edmund, was allowed to inherit some of his family estates within a few months of his father's execution. Edward never even pursued Sir John Maltravers, the other man responsible for the ex-king's security, along with Lord Berkeley.
Not only would it have been unwise for Edward to persecute those who had supported Mortimer, it would have served no purpose. Mortimer had surrounded himself with the cleverest and most able men of his generation. Indeed, virtually all the prominent men at court in the last year of Mortimer's ascendancy were retained by Edward III in the first year of his. We know this by assessing who witnessed royal charters in the period before and after the coup of 19 October 1330 (See Appendix Four). Bishop Burghersh of Lincoln, who spent more time at court in 1330 dian any other bishop, was retained by Edward III even though he was no longer Chancellor. The pope wrote commending his skills to Edward, who acknowledged in his reply that Burghersh had 'more good in him than all the other bishops'. This is remarkable in view of Burghersh being Mortimer's closest friend and adviser. Nor was he the only Mortimer all
y to win Edward's approval; even Oliver Ingham attested a charter in 1331, despite being a Mortimer agent; and two years later he was appointed seneschal of Aquitaine. Leaving aside the steward of the household (who attested charters by virtue of his office), all but one of the fifteen men who had witnessed more than three charters in 1330 under Mortimer's period of influence performed the same courtly function in 1331, the exception being Geoffrey Mortimer. Edward restricted his reforms to replacing the Treasurer and Chancellor with men of his own choosing. The men he selected for these posts were William Melton (archbishop of York) and John Stratford (bishop of Winchester) respectively.
All this points to another significant feature of Edward's character: forgiveness. Edward was not averse to executing his enemies, as later events would show; but if a man could prove useful to him, he did not let past enmity stand in the way of reconciliation. Already by 19 October 1330 Lancaster - the rebel of 1328 - had been restored to favour. More surprisingly, Geoffrey Mortimer was permitted to live quietly on his estates in France. Although Maltravers was sentenced to death for his part in procuring the death of the earl of Kent, he too was allowed to live untroubled in Flanders. He was allowed to return to England secretly for a conference with Edward's advisers in 1335, was employed by Edward in Flanders and Ireland not long after that, and eventually restored to his estates and lordship." Bartholomew Burghersh, who had shadowed Montagu's mission to the pope, was appointed seneschal of Ponthieu. Such an ability to forgive meant Edward did not permanendy alienate key magnates and prelates from court. He did not disable his government by vindictiveness upon the disempowered ministers. Nor did he create new enemies. In fact, so much did he sympathise with the judgement of those who had supported Mortimer that a year later, in January 1332, he announced that a grant made before October 1330 was not questionable merely on the grounds that it was made in the time of 'evil counsellors'. Mortimer had not been a bad administrator. He had committed only one unforgivable sin in Edward's eyes. He had appropriated Edward's royal power.
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It is particularly unfortunate for the biographer that the sorts of documents which survive from the fourteenth century - financial accounts, administrative and legal records, royal writs and chronicles written by clerks with one eye on posterity and the other on morality - rarely give an impression of how much fun was had at court. The weight of evidence is always on the side of business, whether the king's or God's. Nevertheless, we can be confident that Edward was ecstatic at his success in capturing Mortimer, and, as soon as the man was dead, he revelled in his position. As Sir Thomas Gray put it, 'so this king led a gay life in jousts and tournaments and entertaining ladies'.
Edward certainly enjoyed the jousts and tournaments which Gray mentioned. We can point to a whole gamut of tournaments, games, staged battles, promenades and masked events provided by Edward, rather like a Roman Emperor providing games for the entertainment of his citizens. These events, whether private (for a few dozen nobles and knights) or public (for the citizens of London) all helped Edward recreate the cult of kingship. They were dramatic events too, with the emphasis on spectacle. For the games at Guildford, on 1 and 6 January 1331, Edward ordered canvas and Spanish wool to be purchased to make 'the hair and hides of men and deer', perhaps to be used in mock hunts.'5 For the same games he also ordered two banners and four pennons to be made, presumably for the two 'armies' which would compete in the tournament, and 'ten dozen false faces complete with beards, both for knights and squires'. Masks became a common element of Edward's games. So too were mock animals and mythical beasts. The costumes of merchants, friars, devils, dragons, angels and women never ceased to be popular, and were still being invented for Edward's entertainments twenty years later.
What is often overlooked about all this display is that it was not just an occasional happening, it was a regular occurrence. To get an idea of just how regular, we have to examine Edward's accounts for references to payments for armour and costumes. Of course, many festivities have left little or no trace, when only a small amount of armour was purchased specially. Nevertheless, it is reasonable to estimate that Edward attended some sort of 'games' on a monthly basis in the summer and on the major feast days in winter: so a total of about ten or eleven tournaments per year, each lasting between two and four days.'7 In between these were the preparations for the events. And of course the events themselves were in many respects training exercises for real battles and duels. Edward was encouraging his subjects to live the romantic chivalric life. For Philippa and her ladies at court this took the form of a massive display of wealth through their rich and varied appearance, and extravagance in practically everything they did. For Edward's knights, it took the form of regular displays of prowess in the joust, and dressing up and acting archetypal roles from popular culture and imagination. Edward was leading the royal family in a recreation of a semi-legendary realm. His purpose was a demonstration of absolute royalty. It was the biggest pro-royal propaganda statement since his grandfather Edward I had constructed a whole series of castles in the newly conquered north of Wales, including one (Carnarvon) modelled on Constantinople, capital of the Eastern Roman empire. If Froissart's chronicle with its tournaments and feasts, romantic deeds and chivalric honour seems far-fetched, it is not because it was trying to misrepresent Edward's court, it is because it was trying to represent it faithfully.
Absolute royalty in 1331 harked back to one figure above all others, King Arthur. The Arthurian legends had, for a number of years, offered various kings the model for a band of knights who were indomitable and who would win fame, love and virtue. In his old age Edward I had tried to create just such a band to wage war against the Scots; it had failed, partly due to its size (more than two hundred knights) and partly due to Edward IPs lack of determination to continue his father's war. Edward III imagined his band of knights in a new way. If he was to be the new Arthur, then he too needed a band of close-knit, peerless Knights of the Round Table. The late thirteenth-century Round Table, which now hangs at Winchester, has places for twenty-four knights as well as the king.'8 Later Edward formed a chivalric band with a similar number of knights (twenty-six as opposed to twenty-five). Over and over again in Edward's accounts of the 1330s we read of aketons (embroidered, padded tournament jackets), tunics and mantles being made for small groups of men. Edward's vision of his companionship was simple: a group of about two dozen friends, brothers-in-arms. From the beginning of his reign there was an attempt to make the Arthurian legends come true. If the Round Table could be made a reality, there was no reason why Edward's knights could not actually sit around it, nor any reason why they should not be as brave as the legendary knights of King Arthur. They had already begun to show their courage. It is no coincidence that the first set of aketons for a band of courtiers was made for the men who had assisted in the capture of Mortimer.
Edward Ill's vision of kingship cannot be separated from the legends of King Arthur. So strong was their pull that Edward visited Glastonbury - Arthur's legendary burial place - soon after he took power, in December 1331. There were other examples of bonded knighthood for him to draw upon too. In Castile, Alfonso XI had recently established his Order of the Band, a group of knights distinguished by their extravagant dress. Before that even, in the 1290s, the Count of Holland had established a tourneying society. And then there were the religious knights. Edward's first home as baby, Bisham Priory, had been a house of the Knights Templar. He would have remembered nothing of this place from his living there, but he would have passed it many times in later years, and he cannot have been unaware that once there had existed in England an order of knights who dedicated themselves to fight for the patrimony of Jesus Christ, the Holy Land. The very oaths sworn by knights when they received knighthood exhorted them to noble deeds and Christian virtues: to higher purposes than self-aggrandizement. It was these higher purposes which Edward hoped would appeal to his own company of knights.
We might have expected this burst of knightl
y expectation, tourneying and chivalric virtue to have been accompanied by a range of rewards liberally scattered amongst the men who had freed Edward from Mortimer. This was not the case. The rewards were few. Montagu was rewarded with the lordship of Denbigh for leading the plot to arrest Mortimer, which was fitting, as that lordship had been Mortimer's reward for freeing the country from the previous royal manipulator, Hugh Despenser. Men such as the earl of Lancaster and the lawyer Geoffrey le Scrope were also rewarded, and certain knights who had taken part in the arrest received charters in their favour. But there were no huge grants of land and tides. For several years no knight who had assisted in the attack of 1330 was advanced in rank. Edward was fastidiously careful not to be seen to appoint another favourite who would grow rich, ambitious and assume Mortimer's place. Men under Edward III would have to earn their tides and glory. Relieving the king of Mortimer's influence was merely a first step.
There were other reasons not to distribute rewards liberally so early in his career. Edward was still under age - he only turned nineteen in November 1331 - and although he had taken control of the realm he had yet to prove himself as a leader. His letters at this time are marked by his eagerness to ask for advice, whether from parliament or the pope. His approach to his royal status was hands-on and immediate, but his approach to overseas and military affairs was tentative. Would his lords and knights trust his judgement on the field of battle? Would men follow his orders in the face of danger? Although it had been prophesied that he would be an all-conquering king, that was not prophesied to happen during his father's lifetime, and Edward did not yet know whether his father was alive or dead. All he knew in 1331 was that it had been foretold that his father would lose all his lands and then regain them and more, and that he would die overseas. His father had now lost all his lands. If Edward were to leave the realm and if some lord seized the opportunity to reinstate his father, if he was still in Britain, the prophecy might yet come true.