The point at issue at this time was the question of proper law. Given that Arwystli was part of Wales and the 1277 treaty entitled Llywelyn to have disputes over property in Wales decided by Welsh law, should the right to the county be decided by English law (as Gruffydd argued) or Welsh law (as Llywelyn claimed)? The point was not actually as simple as it might seem, since there were issues of what law should be used to determine the question of proper law; and moreover, Gruffydd’s claim was as a Marcher lord, not based on Welsh law. But to muddy the waters further, Edward, naturally unwilling to reach a conclusion detrimental to his own lordship and to Gruffydd, who had allied with him in 1277, insisted that the proper forms of litigation be observed, rather than granting Llywelyn the right to have his complaint heard directly by him. This dispute was just one of many which raised similar issues, where original disputes were considerably complicated and delayed by lawyers’ arguments about procedure and proper law. Fundamentally, too, the Welsh considered that the English attempts to define and establish laws was alien to their way of doing business; while Edward and later historians might say that he respected Welsh law where established, the very cage of establishing precedent was inimical to Welsh sensibilities.
By the end of 1281, there had been markers of likely trouble ahead. Llywelyn on his side had reached an agreement with the great Marcher lord Roger Mortimer, an alliance of past enemies which might suggest trouble. In November, frustrated by Llywelyn’s constant complaints, Edward removed the Justiciar of Chester and replaced him with the hardliner Reginald de Grey. While this move would have limited effect on Llywelyn, it directly impacted Llywelyn’s impulsive younger brother Dafydd, who had been given border lands in 1277. The appointment of de Grey was perhaps more than a knee-jerk reaction to the complaints; the combination of this appointment, de Grey’s actions thereafter and the decision of Edward to spend such a period of time in the vicinity of the Marches in late 1281 raises some suspicions that Edward had himself concluded that the deal of 1277 would not work in the long term, and was looking to provoke a decisive fight.2
If that was Edward’s intention, the storm broke shortly after he had returned into the English heartlands. On 21 March 1282, Dafydd decided to communicate his discontent directly and led a band of attackers on Hawarden Castle. A number of men were killed, the castle was burned and its castellan, Roger Clifford, an old and close friend of Edward’s, was taken prisoner. Meanwhile, copycat raids were launched in the south of Wales and against the English border town of Oswestry. This left the recently widowed Llywelyn in an impossible position; he could refuse to join the rebellion and lose all credibility with his countrymen, or he could join what he must have known was a doomed rebellion. He chose the latter option, and commenced attacks on the new castles of Flint and Rhuddlan – the symbols of English oppression.
The news of the rebellion reached Edward and Eleanor on 25 March, on the Wednesday before Easter, when they were observing Holy Week from the Abbey of Malmesbury. Eleanor, now just over forty, was approaching the end of the first trimester of yet another pregnancy. Moving to Devizes Castle for the Easter weekend, all plans for the next months had to be cancelled and new plans for a move into Wales made. The royal party stayed put for nearly a month, sending out streams of messengers and orders, and summoning all necessary advisers to consult from there. The usual suspects were put in place: de Grey took the Chester command, with Roger Mortimer in the central Marches and Robert Tybetot on the west.3
As far as Eleanor was concerned, this move to a war footing will have involved finishing off such transactions as could be completed at once, and otherwise putting her properties into holding status. As she was a hands-on manager of her property empire, acquisitions (except in Wales) almost shut down for the next two years. Two final transactions were closed off before the court moved to Gloucester: the acquisition on 29 March of an advowson and some land in Norfolk and on 8 April 1282 of some land in Derbyshire, near her existing holdings. Oddly enough, this land came indirectly from the loyal Welsh lord Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn.4
Summonses having gone out for a muster of forces at Worcester on 17 May, the royal party moved to Gloucester at the end of April, arriving in Worcester itself just ahead of the date set. Further writs were then issued for feudal levies to be at Rhuddlan at the start of August – about the time Eleanor’s baby was due. In fact, Edward and Eleanor – accompanied by Eleanora and Joan – reached Rhuddlan in early July, after a stop in Chester for most of June. Rhuddlan Castle, begun in 1277, was already complete, the bulk of work having been finished by 1280. The site on the banks of the River Clwyd had been connected to the sea by turning the final stretch of river into a canal by straightening and dredging it – a hugely time-consuming and expensive task. The siege which Rhuddlan Castle had faced had been thrown off in June, but it is likely that some damages were still being made good on the royal party’s arrival – certainly Edward borrowed some money from Eleanor for the Rhuddlan works at about this time.5
In early August, Eleanor gave birth to Elizabeth, who would be consequently known as Elizabeth of Rhuddlan. Despite the efforts which had gone in to civilising the place for Eleanor, with the installation of the garden, decorative seating and fishpond and the presence of her resident goldsmith, it would hardly have been a peaceful venue for childbirth. Apart from the constant round of messengers, Edward was using Rhuddlan as the base for troop assembly; by the end of August there were 750 cavalry and about 8,000 troops based there. However, Eleanor appears to have taken the bustle in her stride, making a gift of £10 to some minstrels who helped celebrate her churching and buying a range of small necessaries for Elizabeth – a basin, some tankards, a storage chest and a bucket.
While the troops assembled, issues further afield were not forgotten. In particular, on 15 August, Eleanor’s eldest daughter, Eleanora, now nearly fourteen, was married by proxy to Alphonso of Aragon, with John de Vescy playing the part of the bride. This event indicates that while Edward and Eleanor had initially been disquieted by the Aragonese role in the Sicilian Vespers, they were nonetheless minded to proceed with the match. It seems that Eleanor’s views were very influential in the conduct of the marriage negotiations: the documents were kept in a group, and one bears a depiction of the figure of a speedy courier holding in his hand a banner – of Castile. So it was Eleanor’s messengers, it would seem, who were doing the legwork on this tricky diplomatic issue. But the rushing of the marriage seems to have been a tactical move on the part of the Aragonese. Pedro of Aragon landed in Sicily at the end of the month, being proclaimed king on 4 September. Within weeks, he had been excommunicated by the Pope. Eleanora had thus been married into a family at war with the papacy.
Meanwhile, Eleanor was also busy exercising her influence in relation to Alfonso’s problems. In June 1282, Alfonso had written to Edward asking him to give Eleanor full credence in relation to matters she would discuss with him – indicating that she had had detailed correspondence with Alfonso. Later in the year she wrote to the King of Aragon on Alfonso’s behalf, and persuaded Edward, despite his own needs, to arrange for Gaston de Béarn to take a hundred Gascon knights to Alfonso’s assistance. Even so, Alfonso continued to seek assistance.6
But these problems would have to await resolution; the requirements of the Welsh war were more imperative. The retaking of Anglesey, such a success in 1277, was prioritised under former Crusader and Gascon seneschal Luke de Tany. To ensure shock and awe, this time a different strategic twist was used; it was decided to construct a pontoon bridge from Anglesey to the mainland in order to give a further attack route which would outflank Llywelyn’s defences. This approach is interesting because this use of pontoon bridges was far from orthodox. It was not unheard of, dating back many centuries, but was an approach which had somewhat fallen into disuse in the Middle Ages. Given that fact, it is perhaps interesting to note that it is (again) a technique commended by Vegetius, who suggests the use of small, light boats lashed together to form a bridge
. Although the scheme was not without difficulty – since the technique was unfamiliar, the boats originally brought were too heavy to be transported, and new ones had to be purchased at Chester – the bridge was completed by November 1282.7
Meanwhile, Edward was elsewhere, leading the forces moving inwards from Rhuddlan. In late August and early September he led an attack on Ruthin and Llangernyw. Following the success of this attack, he returned to Rhuddlan in late September before setting off again against Dafydd’s bases in mid-October, returning victorious in early November. But the good news will have been seriously offset by the news of the death of Roger Mortimer in early October, possibly as a result of his exertions in his sector of the campaign. Mortimer was about eight years older than Edward, and his formal retirement from tournaments in 1279 indicates that his health may not have been good, but it will nonetheless have been a memento mori for the crusading group now gathered in Wales – Mortimer was still only about fifty at his death.
And the return to Rhuddlan brought even worse news, this time from Anglesey. The pontoon bridge scheme had misfired horribly. An English force either chanced an attack in the hope of catching Llywelyn, who was nearby, or were ambushed while on a routine sortie. Trying to regain the pontoon bridge, they were either prevented from reaching it by a change in the tide or the bridge was damaged in the force of the tide and the retreat. The result was catastrophic. Luke de Tany and Roger Clifford’s son both drowned, Robert Burnell lost two brothers and Otho de Grandison barely escaped with his life. The disaster at Anglesey predictably gave new heart to the Welsh, and Edward had no choice but to redouble his efforts. So, on 24 November, more writs were despatched around the country.8
But even as troops began to arrive at Rhuddlan, the Welsh suffered their own, even larger disaster. On 11 December 1282, Llywelyn himself was killed. Save that he was killed at some point close to the River Irfon at a little place called Cilmeri (where a memorial stands to this day), the story is unclear. He may have fallen in battle or in the process of returning to join his troops. He may have been there in hopes that if the fight in Mid Wales could be turned – its leadership being in a state of flux following Mortimer’s death – the entire war could be brought to a successful conclusion before Edward could gain traction in Gwynedd. One interesting version has his death occurring as a result of a conspiracy led by Roger Mortimer of Chirk, the second surviving son of Roger Mortimer, who is said to have pretended that he would come over to Llywelyn’s side and bring his men with him. Certainly, if Mortimer of Chirk’s reputation is justified, such a ruse might not be beyond the bounds of possibility; he had lost two wards in suspicious circumstances in 1277 and was later to win a reputation for unscrupulousness. Another version points the finger at his bookish older brother, Edmund. He had originally been the second son, destined for the Church, and became the heir to his formidable father only on the unexpected death of his older brother. Edward clearly had reservations about his ability to stand in his father’s shoes, and had delayed confirming him in his lands. He therefore had a point to prove – and was present sufficiently close to the death to have items from the body to pass to Robert Burnell. But whatever the reason Llywelyn was there, the result was simple: the end of the Welsh war was in sight. Having lost their one acknowledged leader, there could be only one outcome.9
The death of Llywelyn was therefore the cause of great celebrations in the royal party. His head was brought to Edward, who sent it to be displayed to the army at Anglesey before it was sent to London, where it was carried through the streets and pilloried. Finally, it was displayed on the Tower battlements, where it apparently remained for some years. Within days, Dafydd had sent his hostage Roger de Clifford to seek peace terms. Equally speedily, Edward rejected the offer; only surrender was acceptable.10
Meanwhile, the Aragonese marriage again provided cause for discussion and concern. The proxy marriage having been performed, the Aragonese sought Eleanora’s actual marriage, tactfully not via the excommunicate Pedro but instead by letter from Queen Constance. Edward’s reply, on 12 January 1283, makes clear that the English monarchs were troubled both by the prospect of sending Eleanora into a family at odds with the papacy and by the conflict now inevitable between Aragon and France. Edward therefore politely but firmly refused to send his daughter before at least the beginning of the next year. Trapped between obligations both to Aragon and France, it may well have been a relief when a papal Bull emerged shortly thereafter, effectively preventing the marriage by expressly excluding descendants of Pedro from the dispensation allowing Eleanora to marry any person within the fourth degree of consanguinity and enjoining Edward to make no connections with enemies of the Holy See. Pedro, however, continued to correspond with Eleanor in a friendly fashion. He wrote to her in February 1283, plainly in answer to a letter of her own expressing anxiety for her brother, to report on the state of negotiations between Alfonso and Sancho and to promise his best endeavours to reunite the pair.11
Meanwhile, the Welsh resistance gradually crumbled – with some active encouragement from Edward’s team. In January, the key castle of Dolwyddelan was placed under siege and soon surrendered. It is apparent that Eleanor was keenly waiting to hear news of her husband’s success and welfare, because the records show her paying two messengers who brought rumours of the castle’s fall on 4 January. By March 1283, Edward felt secure enough to move his headquarters to Conwy, which was the principal residence of the princes of Gwynedd and therefore represented a hugely significant move in PR terms. With him went Eleanor. Her presence there is testified by the emergency provision of hangings for her rooms, the laying of a lawn, and the construction of a garden structured, as at Rhuddlan, around fencing from tun barrels. To make certain that all was ready to an acceptable standard, she even sent ahead one of her squires to make sure the new planting was well watered in. Even in war, Eleanor expected domestic standards to be maintained.
At once plans were laid to largely dismantle the existing palace and build a castle which was an unequivocal statement of the power of the English king. The castle which was built here is a massive edifice of roughly rectangular shape arranged around two baileys and set with eight substantial round towers. Built from rubble masonry, it was originally rendered and whitewashed, like the White Tower in London, thereby ensuring that all eyes must be drawn to it. But a new castle was not enough. To emphasise further the defeat of the Welsh, the ancient priory of Aberconwy, where the kings of Wales (including Llywelyn the Great) were buried, was dismantled and administrative offices were built over it, and while the great hall of the Welsh kings was left intact, it was now inconsequential, attached to the side of the new town walls and in the shadow of the grand new hall.
The approach taken with Conwy marks an appropriate point at which to consider the Welsh new towns more generally. In 1277, Edward had begun the process of seeding new towns into the Welsh conquered territories with the building of Rhuddlan and Flint; this he now continued with Conwy, Caernarfon and others. Rhuddlan and Conwy together demonstrate some key points. First, in both, a decision was taken to move the castle and town to some extent, thereby obliterating features which were totems for the local population. Secondly, although what is most notable in the records and the survivals is the castle, the castle was only a part of the building programme – the construction of a new town, built to be prosperous, was equally important. Thirdly, attention was given to privileges which were to attach to the town, both to boost its chances of economic survival and to attract to it new inhabitants, who would themselves assist in this endeavour. Thus in Rhuddlan, a charter of liberties to encourage new burgesses was issued in November 1278, granting them essentially the same privileges as Hereford. This charter of liberties was then in turn granted to Flint, Conwy and Caernarfon. Immigrants were encouraged, and taxes were remitted in the early years to encourage the building and improving of the town. Similarly, Aberystwyth, commenced by Edmund of Lancaster at about the same time as Rhuddlan, was chosen
with a view to supplanting existing Welsh castles and was quickly granted the rights of Henry III’s town of New Montgomery: a market, two fairs and a gild merchant.
Edward’s inspiration for the programme of town building has been considerably debated, with the bastides of Gascony usually posited as the source. Stylistically, there is of course much to be said for this theory. However, the bastides of Gascony were not associated with war or conquest, and the treatment of conquered territory was something of a novelty for recent Plantagenet kings, who had lost far more territory than they had gained. Nor were the Welsh new towns pure new towns, built on bare ground; the majority, like Rhuddlan, Conwy and Aberystwyth, were reincarnations of existing towns. Similarly, while plainly some of the architectural idiom for the castles can be found in Savoy, in particular St Georges d’Esperanche, that was a peaceful villa nova.
Here, it seems, there is a noticeable parallel with Eleanor’s experience. Her childhood had featured close contact with the business of conquest and its aftermath, and in particular the development of existing conquered towns into stable and prosperous units of their new nation. She had experience of a paradigm which saw a conquering king turning his administrative attention to a newly acquired town, reclaiming or amending key features of that town in line with his own vision and putting in place economic measures to encourage settlement of new townspeople to dilute the existing population and boost the economic success of the town. It is suggested that this experience, conveyed to Edward and his other advisers, whose experience was unlikely to have offered them such insights, was at least a part of the thinking which lay behind these developments and fed into the perspectives offered by the foundations of Gascony and Savoy.
Eleanor of Castile: The Shadow Queen Page 43
