The Perfect King

by Ian Mortimer

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  Philippa's injuries and illnesses go some way to explain one big change in Edward's life. Until now he had never recognised any illegitimate offspring, and may well have had none. Such was the strength of his relationship with his wife that his dalliances with other women - presuming that he had some - had been restrained, even though he had encouraged a culture of intense sexual excitement at his court. But now a girl appeared before him who caught his attention and, having caught it, did her best to keep it. She was one of Philippa's ladies-in-waiting. Edward had of course paid attention to Philippa's female staff in earlier years, giving them grants and presents. The merging of their households in 1360 had brought him into daily contact with them. But to this girl, Alice Perrers, who had - we are told - 'a seductive voice' he gave much more than grants and presents. About 1364 she bore him his first known illegitimate child.

  Alice Perrers is the most famous royal mistress between Henry II’s 'Fair Rosamund' (Rosamund Clifford) and Edward IV's Elizabeth Lambert (better known as Jane Shore). Arguably she eclipses them both. What she is remembered for is not her captivating beauty or her delightful wit but her avarice and her manipulation. But in considering how her relationship with Edward began we must lay aside this aspect of her behaviour and remember that in 1363 she was just a sexually-desirable servant at court. When it was realised that she was pregnant with Edward's child, she left. She gave birth, perhaps at Southery in Norfolk, to a son who became known as John of Southeray or Surrey. When she returned to court, she received presents and grants, but as yet these were at the king's will. The images of the self-interested, calculating whore and the bewitching she-devil were still a long way from the public mind.

  If Edward took a mistress while his wife was slipping into her final illness, we should not be too surprised. He had always had the opportunity to command the sexual availability of women, and adultery on the part of husbands was not considered a great sin. With Edward it is far more surprising that he had not done so more often. He was clearly a potent sire, and therefore if he had had many mistresses, we would expect him to have had a string of illegitimate children, like Henry I (who had more than twenty) and John (who had more than seven). Henry I and John had had these children by a number of women; they were multiple philanderers. Edward III apparently was not. If he was not always loyal to his wife then he was far more circumspect in his romantic interludes than most previous kings. Therefore it is particularly interesting that he now proved loyal also to Alice. She was not paid off but allowed to come and go from court. This is what is strange about this illicit royal union. Edward kept her, and had two more children with her. This was unheard-of in the 1360s. The monastic chronicler Walsingham decided she must have bewitched Edward in order to secure his affections. She may have done, but it was not necessarily in the way that the monk supposed.

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  Throughout the 1360s - not just in the plague years - Edward lost those close to him. His sister Joan died in September 1362, two months before his jubilee. His daughter-in-law Elizabeth de Burgh, Lionel's wife, died the following year. His companion Knights of the Garter died with sad regularity: Miles Stapelton (a founder member) and Richard de la Vache died in 1364 and 1366. The great soldier Sir Thomas Ughtred, who had been present at Dupplin Moor, had served as an admiral and as a Justice of the Peace, and had fought in all of Edward's wars, died in 1365. The men who came to take their places were all young, nearly thirty years younger than Edward. They were promoted because of their great inheritances or, in the case of Enguerrand de Coucy, because he was betrothed to Edward's daughter. As he walked around his newly completed works at Winsdor and Sheen, Edward must have been saddened that the friends with whom he had laughed and jousted when he had ordered their construction were now gone, replaced by men with whom he had little personal affinity. The castle on the Isle of Sheppey in particular was a testament to his military vision, but who was left alive with whom to share the subtle nuances of military design? He dedicated it instead to Philippa and named the town and castle Queenborough in her honour.

  The most significant death of this period was that of King John of France on 8 April 1364. He had dutifully returned to England in January - when his ransom had not materialised - and had fallen mortally ill. Herein lay a problem for Edward. Obviously no more of the ransom would be paid, but, far more importantly, John had not formally renounced sovereignty of the agreed territories before his death. That extra addition to the Treaty of Bretigny had never been ratified. The responsibility for the renunciation fell on the dauphin, who became Charles V. Charles had proved very reluctant to acknowledge any ceding of territory, and now saw an opportunity to capitalise on his father's failure. He could hardly do worse on the field of battle, and, while peace continued, he could rebuild his fortunes and those of France. Any hope of the formal renunciation being made, and a permanent settlement, was thus extinguished.

  The problems - although immediately suspected - did not immediately become political reality. In fact the cause of the renewed hostilities came from a quite unexpected direction. In 1362 Edward had agreed an alliance with King Pedro of Castile, known to history by his telling soubriquet 'the Cruel'. At first Pedro had doubted whether it was in his best interests to ally with Edward. His sole purpose was to protect himself against a strong alliance between Aragon and France. But after the death of the French king, he made his mind up, and ratified the Anglo-Castilian treaty. It was just as well for him that he did, for in 1365 the French hit upon a solution to the English unofficial armies, or 'companies', which were ravaging their territories. The great French commander Bertrand du Guesclin offered them the opportunity to attack Castile in the name of Enrique de Trastamara. Back in England Edward realised the danger. English mercenaries were about to fight against his ally. To stop them he issued orders on 6 December 1365 that no Englishmen were to take arms against Pedro. But his orders fell on deaf ears. The English mercenaries commanded by Sir Hugh Calveley, Sir Nicholas Dagworth and Sir William Elmham proceeded with impunity into Castile, under the pretence that they were going on crusade. By the end of March they and du Guesclin had done their work, and Enrique de Trastamara had been crowned at Burgos, the capital. Pedro fled to Bordeaux, a king in name alone.

  Although it was the prince who agreed the mission to reinstate Pedro, there is no doubt that it was with Edward's full approval. Edward felt bound to honour his treaty. The matter was discussed at the brief May 1366 parliament, and Edward sent John of Gaunt to the prince with reinforcements and financial support. By this time the English mercenaries, realising that the prince was going to march into Castile, were only too eager to be paid off. On 3 April 1367, at Najera,- the prince and his Gascon army inflicted a crushing defeat on Enrique de Trastamara, who almost alone escaped the carnage and arrest of his army. Du Guesclin himself was captured, as well as Marshal Audrehem, whom the prince had previously captured and ransomed once already, at Poitiers.

  It was a stunning military victory, but the prince had terribly miscalculated. Najera is one of the clearest examples in medieval history of a tactical victory which proved to be a strategic defeat. For when the campaign was over, and the prince's clerks worked how much it had cost, the total was 2.7 million florins (£405,000). There was no hope of regaining such a huge amount of money from impoverished Castile. Worse, Pedro the Cruel saw all the prisoners as traitors, not deserving of ransoms, and murdered as many as he could despite the prince's protestations that these men were valuable to him. Although the prince held a great victory feast when he returned to Bordeaux, in reality he had plunged his principality into chronic debt, having regained about one-eighth of what he had promised in wages of war and supplies.

  The crisis in which the prince now found himself was comparable to that which Edward had faced in 1340-41, when he returned from Flanders incognito owing around £300,000. Edward had then weathered the consequent crisis by taking the argument to his political opponents, compromising, and then reversing his com
promise after the storm had blown over. The prince could not do this. The crucial difference was that in England there was no alternative to Edward's government in 1341, but in Gascony there was an all-too-eager alternative sovereign in the form of the French king. And King Charles, as every Gascon knew, had yet formally to renounce his sovereignty. When the lords who had fought at Najera realised that not only would they not be paid for their troubles, they would also be taxed to cover the prince's shortfall, many began to think they would be better served by the weaker, less-assuming French king. It was therefore through the Najera campaign that the prince precipitated the next stage of the Hundred Years War.

  Edward was a relatively passive player in the move to war after Najera. He was constantly on the back foot, reacting from afar to the plots and strategies emerging in the cauldron of Gascon discontent. But he probably suspected what was happening. In 1333 he himself had been a young king with much to prove and nothing to lose by making war on his enemies. Now King Charles was in a similar position. When the count of Armagnac wrote to Charles in May 1368 appealing against the tax imposed by the prince, the French king saw an opportunity to divide and rule in Gascony. Lord Albret - for many years a die-hard English supporter — felt similarly angry with the prince and openly supported Armagnac. Together with the renewed attacks of the renegade English mercenaries, who had returned from Castile seeking more plunder in France, Charles decided that this was too good an opportunity to miss, and accepted the Gascon invitation to intervene. In so doing, he set himself on the path to war.

  Historians have tended to portray Edward's acceptance of the slide into conflict as a sign of his willingness to resume the fight and an ambition to enlarge on his conquest, as if he was some sort of military automaton. But this is a great misrepresentation of his ambitions at this time. He had for years yearned to consolidate his victories in France through a satisfactory peace treaty. He was old, he was ill, and he had lost his companions in arms. More importantly Queen Philippa was dying, and he was determined to stay with her until the end. Already she had commissioned her tomb effigy. For Edward and his wife it was just a matter of waiting, spending what littie time they had left together.

  Edward attended parliament reluctantly in May 1368. Rather than discuss the deep crisis his son was facing in France, he showered praise on the representatives, charming them. He thanked them for all their support over the years, and they rose to the flattery, calling him their 'highest, most excellent and most redoubted lord'. The statutes enrolled were, however, without a clear strategy. It was as if Edward simply waved them through, or peremptorily dismissed those petitions which were too bothersome. The Statute of Labourers was re-enacted to suit the gentry, sheriffs were prohibited from holding their office for more than a year, and he relinquished his attempts to control JPs. He tried to regulate the wine trade by prohibiting English merchants from buying wine in Gascony, a statute which met with unfortunate results. The only acknowledgement of the impending doom appears in his statute abolishing the wool staple in Calais, which he admitted was threatened by the French breaking of the peace.

  It was after parliament that the gravity of the situation became clear. Until now he had maintained a laissez faire attitude towards his son's government in Gascony. The prince, after all, was the heir to the throne, and it was necessary for him to learn how to deal with tricky political situations. Edward would not have helped him by stepping in and removing him from authority. But when King Charles accepted Armagnac's request to intervene, Edward had to respond. He wrote to Charles demanding to know what he meant by accepting the appeal. Charles deferred his answer, not wanting to provoke an immediate attack. The prince had no doubts as to the seriousness of the situation and ordered men-at-arms and archers to be raised on his estates in England and Wales, and prepared for war. All became clear in November when Charles assumed his sovereign role and summoned the prince to appear in Paris in May 1369. Edward wrote to his son, clearly of the opinion that he was not fit to govern. The prince wrote back, answering those of his father's 'advisers' (it was not seemly to say that the king himself was wrong) who accused him of maladministration and of bringing dishonour on himself.55 But the prince was now sick as well as bankrupt. He had caught a debilitating illness in Castile, and was physically too weak to lead an army. Although the prince wrote to Paris saying that he would accept the summons with 'a helmet on his head and sixty thousand men at his back', in truth he was having difficulty even riding a horse.

  When news of the prince's illness reached England it was just another blow to the king, who was now psychologically crushed by the events of the year. In addition to his and Philippa's own sicknesses, in September he had heard of the death of his daughter-in-law Blanche, the last surviving child of the late duke of Lancaster and wife of John of Gaunt. Such news, coming on top of the realisation that war was now imminent, and the illness of his glorious son of whom he had been so proud, was dispiriting. But then came worse news: Lionel was dead. Lionel, his second son, named after his Arthurian hero, probably the most intelligent of all his sons. Where would it end? Lionel had been in Italy, had just made a glorious marriage with the daughter of Galeazzo Visconti, lord of Milan. The aged poet Petrarch had himself been there and had lauded the prince. And now he was dead. Messengers came from Italy asking where Edward wanted his son to be buried.

  Edward had great difficulty coping with so many disasters. Old and sick, he dismissed many members of the royal household. Expenditure on the royal buildings almost entirely ceased. Any money available would be needed for war. The great palaces of state became silent echoing memorials of his glorious victories and the hope they inspired. At Windsor the winter sun of Christmas 1368 refracted through the glass, and lit up the newly painted walls of the dancing chamber in Philippa's apartments, but there was no dancing. Servants' steps rang out as they crossed the empty room. The clock chimed in the Round Tower. The prophecies of his youth had not prepared Edward for this loss of health, children and friends, this loneliness, this death.

  But Edward still had his pride. He still had his throne, and he still had his responsibilities. Slowly his mind turned towards the oncoming war. With him that Christmas were the Chancellor, William of Wykeham (now bishop of Winchester), the Treasurer, John Barnet (bishop of Ely), his sons John and Edmund, and the earls of Salisbury, Warwick and Oxford. These men, together with the earl of Arundel and Guy de Brian, remained with Edward for the next two months as the court moved first to Sheen and then to Westminster. In that time Edward had repeated bouts of illness, his physician John Glaston being sent to fetch more medicines. But despite his personal frailty, Edward was forming the strategy by which he would once again take on his enemies. The earls of Cambridge and Pembroke and Lord Charlton of Powys were among the many lords despatched to the prince of Wales. Richard Imworth and other sergeants-at-arms were ordered to arrest all ships in readiness for an attack on France. On 26 April a ship laden with a cargo of wine - a lavish present from King Charles to Edward - was sent back, the present refused. Archers were selected in their counties, men were arrayed in the towns, stones were ordered to be dug for siege engines, and parliament was summoned to Westminster. On 3 June, Edward asked parliament for its views on the prospect of war. The representatives responded unanimously that they believed Edward should resume the tide King of France, and make war on Charles de Valois.

  Preparations gathered momentum. Taxation for the forthcoming war was agreed by parliament. Edward wrote to the prince on 19 June that he had reclaimed the title and would invade to reclaim his rights. He seized the revenues of foreign monasteries in England. The peace with Scotland was renewed. He sought also an alliance with Flanders, but Charles got there first, and secured the match by marrying his brother to Count Louis's heiress. In Castile his hopes of an alliance had been dashed by the murder of Pedro the Cruel in March 1369, after which the pro-French Enrique resumed the throne. Aragon, however, was persuaded to remain a neutral partner. But in Gascony itsel
f the prince was already under pressure. Before Pembroke and his reinforcements arrived, the far eastern part of the principality had been overrun. And in late April the French marched into Edward's county of Ponthieu. John of Gaunt was sent to Calais, where he had taken up residence by 16 July. It was expected that the army would follow shortly.

  The army did not follow. In mid July Edward received a message from Philippa. She wanted him near her.

  They both knew that she was near death. Her years of suffering were coming to an end. He made his way back up the Thames in the royal barge, towards Windsor. When the boat touched the quay there, the old king was helped out and escorted into the great palace he had built within the walls of his birthplace, and he came to the room where Philippa lay.

  When he entered, she saw him, and extended her right hand from beneath the bedclothes, and put it into his right hand. 'We have enjoyed our union in happiness, peace and prosperity', she said. 'I therefore beg of you that when we are separated, you will grant me three requests.' Edward was in tears, but answered 'Lady, whatever you ask, it will be done.' 'My lord', she said, 'I ask you to pay whatever debts I may have outstanding, both in England and overseas. Secondly I beseech you also to fulfil all the bequests or gifts I may have made to churches, both in England and on the Continent, where I have prayed, as well as the legacies I have made to the men and women who have been in my service. And thirdly, when it pleases God to summon you, do not be buried anywhere else but beside my tomb, at Westminster.' Weeping, the king granted his beloved wife her final requests.