Kings & Queens: Amazing & Extraordinary Facts

by Day, Malcolm

  Together the barons governed the country for several years. But it was an uneasy arrangement, and culminated in Simon de Montfort doing battle with the king’s army in 1264 and capturing both Henry and his young warrior son Edward (future Edward I) at the Battle of Lewes. A year in precarious power saw de Montfort’s baronial support wane and the king’s wax. The two forces came head to head at the Battle of Evesham, where the earl of Leicester was slain. King Henry could now reassert his authority.

  After the drawn out turbulence of much of his reign Henry was content to hand over the running of the country to his forceful son Edward, while he concentrated his energies on what he loved best: art and architecture (of which his greatest achievement was to rebuild Westminster Abbey).

  Henry was 65 when he died and despite the upheavals had held the throne for the longest of any English monarch to date, at 56 years.

  ROYAL MENAGERIE

  An indication of Henry’s eccentric nature was his penchant for collecting exotic animals. The first were two leopards, followed by an elephant, gifted by Louis IX of France – no one in England had ever seen such fine beasts. Though housed in purpose built barns, conditions were cramped, and it is thought they did not fare well. Luckier was the zoo’s other great attraction, a polar bear, which Londoners could see daily hunting fish in the River Thames.

  Zealous Reformer Persecutes Minorities

  Edward I expels Jews and prostitutes

  Nicknamed ‘Longshank’ for his tall stature, Edward I was hailed as a mighty king – ‘Hammer of the Scots’ and great castle-builder who famously necklaced Wales with a ring of impregnable forts. One of England’s stongest ever kings went far towards unifying Britain under a radical reforming of the law.

  It is to Edward that we owe thanks for introducing the Model Parliament, which lay the foundations of the present English system. The common law courts too developed during his reign. Edward was undoubtedly years ahead of his time in the advances he brought to society. But it must not be forgotten that his rule allowed little toleration. Iron fist, not soft glove, was the order of the day.

  One of his infamous blitzes was on public morality. Believing that the citizens of his capital were being corrupted by loose women, Edward banned prostitutes from operating anywhere in the City of London. His decree maintained that ‘houses of women of evil life’ also encouraged thieving and murder. Prostitutes were forbidden from living within the City walls, and any contravention would result in 40 days in jail. The net effect, of course, was to drive the business across the Thames to Bankside in Southwark, which lay outside the City’s jurisdiction. There, licensed brothels and ‘stews’ (bath-houses) sprang up everywhere after this measure was introduced.

  In a further attempt at ‘cleansing’ society, Edward infamously issued an edict in 1290 requiring the immediate expulsion of all Jews from England. Outbreaks of anti-Semitism had occurred intermittently over the last century, as stories circulated that Jews committed atrocities. The reality was that their traditional role as money-lenders had run its course. High taxation, enforced loans and property confiscation had left most of the 3000 or so members of the community bankrupt.

  CREATION OF THE PRINCE OF WALES

  Edward I made the first appointment of the Prince of Wales in 1301 by so naming his son Edward. The position was created partly to present the people of Wales with a royal figure to symbolise their place in the monarchy, and partly to proclaim the heir apparent. The investiture took place at Caernarfon in North Wales.

  Old Enemy Vanquished in a Day

  Robert ‘the Bruce’ delivers at Bannockburn

  Robert I of Scotland wore two hats: one as servant in the court of the English king Edward I, the other as warrior in the cause of Scottish independence. Whenever a revolt against the English was raised Bruce would join it. After defeat he would swear allegiance again to the English throne.

  Once crowned king of Scotland at Scone, however, Bruce never looked back. His commitment to winning independence from the belligerent Edward, who had overrun most of Scotland, was never in doubt.

  But the going proved tough. His compatriots suffered heavily at the hands of the English and Bruce himself was forced into hiding on the island of Rathlin, off the Antrim coast (it is here that the legend says Bruce learned to persevere by watching a spider repeatedly trying to spin its web until it succeeded).

  His lands were confiscated, his wife and daughter imprisoned, and three of his brothers were executed. Many captives of the English king had their heads paraded on spikes as a tactic to intimidate the enemy.

  In fact this had the opposite effect. When Edward I finally died and his weaker son, Edward II, took the throne, the Scots felt rejuvenated. Everywhere they rallied to Bruce’s banner – and nowhere was victory sweeter than at Bannockburn.

  Bannockburn

  The focus of the clash between the two armies would be Stirling Castle. In the seven years since Edward II became king, the Scots had recovered virtually all the lands taken by his father. All that remained was this stronghold at Stirling.

  Standing high up on a rock overlooking the marshy plain of Bannockburn, the fort guarded the key crossing point of the River Forth. On Midsummer’s Day, 1314, an anxious commander in charge of the castle, Sir Philip Mowbray, had struck a bargain with the waiting Scots that he would hand over the fort to them unless the English army appeared before sunset that day.

  Just in time Edward appeared on the banks of the Bannock. With him was an immense army of 2,500 professional knights on horseback and 15,000 infantry. Mowbray rode out to meet Edward to try to persuade him not to fight, but the English king felt the urge of his noblemen to engage.

  In preparation, a cavalry unit was sent to reconnoitre the Scottish position and its leader Humphrey Bohun came face to face with Robert the Bruce at the summit of a hill. As Bohun charged with a lance, Bruce dispatched his assailant with a single blow from his axe. The encounter seemed to prefigure the larger outcome, as the English never really recovered from this demoralising setback. The following morning, in an impetuous effort, the cavalry charged uphill at a phalanx of Scotsmen set with pikes that sunk sickeningly into the oncoming horses. A fierce hand-to-hand battle followed and witless English archers stationed behind them started shooting arrows into the backs of their own men.

  Amid the confusion, there suddenly appeared over the hill a swarm of marauding Scottish irregulars. The English fled in disarray and hundreds were cut down trying to escape across the marsh. Edward rode up to the castle. Mowbray refused him, forcing the king to flee eastwards and board a waiting ship. Meanwhile some 1600 Englishmen were captured.

  Despite being outnumbered three to one, the Scots won a famous victory in a single day. The battle proved deicisive as Edward’s army was forced to exit Scotland for good. Thus Bannockburn lives on in Scottish memories as the day when the old enemy was finally vanquished. No English king has subsequently ever conquered Scotland.

  Pansy Meets Grisly End

  Not all is proper in the reign of Edward II

  Across the entire span of the Middle Ages just three kings were deposed by violence off the battlefield: Edward II, Richard II and Henry VI. All three had something in common which accounted for their fate. Each had a liking for incompetent favourites who engendered hatred among the nobles and people alike.

  No sooner had Edward II been sworn in as king than he introduced to the court a ‘friend’, an effeminate French knight, Piers de Gaveston, with whom the new king appeared to be infatuated. Not only was this ‘upstart’ granted more power than any other advisor in the king’s company, but, confident in his royal favour, he would cavort about upsetting and humiliating other nobles around him.

  Gaveston would greet them not in the usual courteous manner expected in gracious circles but with nicknames: the earl of Warwick became the ‘Black Hound of Arden’; the earl of Lancaster, ‘Churl’; the earl of Lincoln, ‘Burstbelly’; and the earl of Gloucester, ‘Horeson’. Before long Edward
was obliged to banish the troublesome knave, but within a year had reinstated him. Trouble bestirred.

  Edward himself went through the proper motions of marrying, indeed the beautiful princess Isabella, daughter of King Philip IV of France, and together they had children. But this union was severely undermined by his homosexual relationship with Gaveston. The queen eventually joined ranks with Edward’s resentful barons and challenged his authority. The result was civil war.

  A league of nobles forced the king to agree to a council of ‘Ordainers’ charged with running the country in his place. Top of the agenda was the banishment of Gaveston. Again, he complied, yet soon returned. Forced into an act of deceit, the Ordainers pretended to offer him safe passage to France if he surrendered. Accepting their terms, Gaveston was instead led to Scarborough Castle where he fell into the hands – certainly not the arms – of his worst enemy, the earl of Warwick, or ‘Black Hound of Arden’. This time there would be no escape. Gaveston was summarily executed.

  Exasperated nation

  This liaison apart, Edward failed in other important duties as defender of the realm. He lost all the territory of Scotland his father had so determinedly won. In fact the Scots even made incursions into the north of England, reaching as far as York.

  If this did not end his credibility as king, Edward’s next move surely did. Seemingly with no care for the consequences, he introduced to the court a new French lover in the shape of Hugh le Despenser and showered him with all the extravagant favours enjoyed by his predecessor. Enough was enough. Queen Isabella now amassed an army under joint leadership with her lover Richard Mortimer, and with some ease overran the country. Edward was captured and imprisoned in Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire. The end was nigh.

  Locked in a secure bedchamber, the king was subjected to a series of horrific tortures. It was said that the device used was subtle enough as to leave no mark on the royal body. While cushions were held over Edward’s head, a plumber’s heated soldering iron was thrust into his bowels. One wag of the time confided, ‘He who lives up the arse, dies up it.’

  The regicide officially remained a mystery, and Edward’s many enemies had got satisfaction. However, Isabella and Mortimer would not survive their triumph long either. The heir to the throne, Edward III, avenged his father’s murder by having Mortimer executed and consigning his mother to a nunnery for the rest of her days.

  Order of the Garter is Toast of the Town

  Edward III leads a golden age of chivalry

  In a century that witnessed deep discord between king and country, Edward II’s accession to the throne came as a welcome relief. Here at last was a monarch his subjects could respect. He gave to a society which prided itself on chivalry the opportunity to prove itself.

  The pomp and pageantry of knightly service flourished as never before under Edward. Setting out to recreate the glamorous world of Arthur and his noble knights at Camelot, Edward founded a new order in chivalry known as the Order of the Garter after his great victory at the Battle of Crécy in 1348.

  At a Round Table tournament held in Windsor to honour his magnificent fighting corps, there was a moment when Edward graciously stooped to pick up the slipped garter of the Countess of Salisbury. As he did so, the king reprimanded his mocking courtiers with the words, ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense’ – ‘Evil to him who evil thinks’. The utterance was adopted as the proud motto of the Order, which became the highest honour in the land and is still awarded in the Garter Chapel at Windsor Castle.

  Ironically, 1348 was the year when much of the nation was reduced to its knees, not in chivalrous gesture but in abject misery, as the Black Death plague swept in from the continent wiping out a third of the population. The fall out was such that even seven years later the king was complaining of plague detritus on the River Thames blocking the passage of the royal barge.

  However, for three decades Edward led by example, pursuing his ambition to be king of France. Lords and squires delighted in the chance to prove their courage and to make a fortune from ransoms obtained from prisoners-of-war. Extravagance, ostentatiousness and vanity were all qualities the king possessed – and all were admired by his people.

  THE LONGBOW REVOLUTION

  Famous English victories over the French at Crécy, Poitiers and Agincourt can all be attributed to a new development in warfare: the longbow. Its range was accurate up to 250 metres and could be shot more rapidly than the conventional crossbow. As one French chronicler recorded, the longbowmen ‘shot their arrows with such force and quickness that it seemed as if it snowed’. The longbow also brought about the decline of feudal chivalry as knights on horseback, previously dominant in the battlefield, were helpless against its arrows, which pierced chainmail armour. As the French discovered, to attack skilled archers was to court disaster.

  Child King Survives a Nest of Vipers

  How Richard II found his character

  Richard II was a child for the first eight years of his reign. Unlike his strong father, who had gained the romantic soubriquet of Black Prince for his dashing exploits on the battle field dressed in menacing black armour, Richard was a physical weakling, a callow youth invested with a heavy responsibility he felt he could hardly bear.

  Having little appetite for royal duty, Richard chafed at the restrictions imposed by his office. Yet he was brought up to believe he must fulfil the divinity which ‘doth hedge in a king’. This conflict in Richard’s character found its resolution in the most challenging moment of his royal life: the Peasant’s Revolt.

  Trouble began in his realm in 1380 when his government tried to impose a new poll tax (on every head of the population). The poor would bear the burden the most. When tax collectors where sent out the following spring to haul in the dues, they were met with fierce resistance and this sparked a widespread revolt.

  Gangs of peasants in Essex and Kent ransacked manor houses and burned down property. Whole towns would fall into the hands of the rebels. The Church was a target too, seen to be too wealthy, its tithe too punitive – even the archbishop’s palace in Canterbury was burnt to the ground. The army of countryfolk then marched on London and found little resistance; indeed many citizens were sympathetic to their cause.

  Facing the music

  The peasants, however, claimed they had not risen against the king, but his corrupt ministers. Richard watched anxiously from the battlements of the Tower of London as flames leapt into the sky from one baronial residence after another.

  As the situation reached melting point, the nervous 14 year-old king announced, much to everyone’s surprise, that he would meet the rebels. On June 15, in an escort of some 200 courtiers and soldiers, Richard rode out to Smithfield, a large open space outside the City walls, which even then served as a cattle market. Drawn up in massed ranks, the angry hordes must have been highly intimidating to such a small detachment. In the boldest voice he could muster, Richard summoned their leader to come forward. A redundant soldier with a loud mouth, Wat Tyler, had assumed leadership among the rebels and presented himself.

  He demanded the abolition of serfdom: ‘Let no man be the lord of another,’ he bellowed, ‘but all should be equal under the king.’ He then became abusive and one among the royal retinue recognised Tyler and shouted out that he was the ‘greatest thief in all Kent’. Drawing his sword, Tyler tried to advance to the king but was barred by the Lord Mayor, William Walworth. In the following scuffle, Tyler was stabbed in the shoulder and run through.

  As the leader fell to the ground dead, the royal party may have thought thier number was up. Then, just as the peasants were drawing their bows, Richard suddenly rode towards them with hand held high.

  ‘Sirs,’ he shouted, ‘will you shoot your king? I will be your chief and captain and you shall have from me all that you ask.’ The king had crucially managed to buy some time and rode with the rebels to Clerkenwell, while his soldiers returned to the palace to drum up support.

  Royal vindication

  For one
long hour Richard negotiated with the rough insurgents. At last he saw the mayor’s forces arrive and slowly encircle the rebels. Summoning his royal authority as best he could, Richard called a halt to the meeting and with immense relief saw what had been an implacable enemy slowly disperse. The situation was defused, and before long the uprising was crushed. Richard’s proud boast at the end of that day of reckoning was really the young king’s supreme rite of passage: ‘Let us rejoice and praise God,’ he proclaimed, ‘for I have this day recovered my lost heritage.’

  Murky Rise of House of Lancaster

  Henry Bolingbroke plots downfall of Richard II

  Henry Bolingbroke’s rise to the top was a chequered affair. His father was the powerful John of Gaunt (third son of Edward III) who had guided his errant nephew Richard II through stormy waters early in his reign. When Henry – only a few months older than Richard – was appointed one of five ‘Lords Appellant’, or counsellors, to rule over the king, he had to suffer a prolonged enmity from this royal cousin, especially when the king came of age and ruled in his own right.

  On one occasion when Henry had a spat with one of his dukes, King Richard decided their quarrel should be settled by a gentleman’s duel. An elaborate pageant was organised. Then, just as the contenders were about to engage, Richard waved the whole thing off, sending both into exile, Henry for ten years.