by Ian Mortimer
News of all that had happened at Kenilworth was published in London on 24 January:
Sir Edward, late king of England, has of his good will and by common counsel and assent of the prelates, earls, barons, and other nobles, and commonalty of the realm, resigned the government of the realm and granted and wills the government shall come to Edward, his eldest son and that he shall govern, reign and be crowned king for which reason all the magnates have done homage. We proclaim the peace of our said Lord, Sir Edward the son, and command under pain of disinheritance and of loss of life and limb that no one infringe the peace of our said lord the king. If anyone have anything to demand from another let him demand it by way of law without using force or violence.14
The day after the announcement of the abdication was proclaimed the first day of the reign of Edward III. It was thus effectively the start of the reign of Roger and Isabella, who firmly advised the fourteen-year-old boy, looked after his privy seal for him, appointed the Chancellor who held the great seal, and, of course, controlled access to the young king himself.
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Roger, as the orchestrator of events, had never had any doubts about the discussions concerning the king’s deposition, nor about the king’s subsequent abdication. Even before the debates had taken place he had fixed the date of the coronation for 1 February, and had decided that his three eldest sons would be among those knighted on the day. On 13 January, the day of his speech and the prelates’ speeches to Parliament, he was more concerned with what his sons would wear at the coronation of the new king than the process of removing the old one. He ordered that his sons should be given bannerets’ clothes for the occasion.15 Three days later, he changed his mind and decided they should be dressed in clothing befitting earls.16 This was four days before the king’s abdication. His confidence was so high, and his authority so great, that dressing his sons as earls – implying a rank above himself and far above them – seems never to have crossed his mind as a high-handed act. Nor, in the euphoria of the moment, does it seem to have crossed anyone else’s.
On the day of the coronation the young king was knighted by John of Hainault.17 Edward himself then dubbed a number of young knights, as tradition dictated. First and foremost were Roger’s sons – Edmund, Roger and Geoffrey – in their earls’ attire, followed by Hugh de Courtenay, Thomas Lestrange and other heirs. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the actual coronation, while the Bishops of Winchester and London held the crown above the boy, it being too heavy to be placed upon his head. The two bishops who had performed such important roles in the proceedings of the Parliamentary deposition – Orleton and Stratford – were present, as were Roger’s other episcopal supporters: William Airmyn of Norwich, Henry de Burghersh of Lincoln, and John de Hothum of Ely. Even the Bishop of Rochester was present, still nursing his bruises. This time he joined with Bishop Airmyn in the singing of the Litany.
The coronation was marked by several propaganda statements, like the earlier parliament. Young Edward proclaimed a general pardon to all criminals then in custody, thereby clearing up the problem created by his father’s offer of pardons in return for soldiers to fight the invaders. A special medal was struck for the occasion, and scattered among the crowds after the service. This showed, on one side, the young king laying a sceptre on a pile of hearts, with the motto: ‘Given to the people according to their will’, and on the other, the king holding his hands out as if to catch a falling crown, with the motto: ‘I did not take, I received’.18 The latter message, loaded and unsubtle as it was, was not incorrect. Edward did not take the crown: Roger took it for him.
With the official handover of the crown to the new regime, the protagonists of the revolution were at liberty to grant themselves all the lands, titles and power they desired. Historians have traditionally claimed that Roger and Isabella took advantage of this to make themselves huge grants, and that they were avaricious, insatiable, and even ruthless in their acquisition of land, castles and power. This sounds like a classic case of conquerors gathering their fortunes greedily, but the image is misleading. A closer examination of the records reveals a marked difference between Roger and Isabella in 1327. On the very day of the coronation Isabella had granted to her an annual income of no less than 20,000 marks (£13,333). This was a phenomenal increase from her previous income of £4,500 before the Despenser regime had confiscated her assets. She thus made over to herself one of the largest personal incomes anyone had ever received in English history, larger even than the income of the late Earl of Lancaster, whose wealth had been regarded as fabulous. Roger did not follow her example. In December 1326 he had been given the keepership of Denbigh Castle, and allocated lands to the annual value of £1,000 in fulfilment of a promise made to him before the invasion. He and Thomas Wake shared a debt of £1,152, owing (but yet to be paid) to the late Hugh Despenser. But as far as direct substantial gifts went, that was all. Indeed, it is remarkable how few direct grants Roger received in 1327. In mid-February he was given the right to marry one of his daughters to the heir to the earldom of Pembroke,19 and four months later he received temporary custody of the lands of Eleanor de Clare, widow of Hugh Despenser, which he returned to her the following year. He also received the wardships of the heirs of the de Beauchamp and Audley families, but he had already been awarded both of these by Edward II before his rebellion, and so these were merely restorations of his property.20 His pardon on 21 February for escaping from the Tower, and with it the restoration of his estates in England, was hardly a concession. The remaining grants made to him carried administrative responsibilities: for example, his uncle’s old role of Justiciar of Wales, which he held for the rest of his life, and a keepership of the peace on the Marches. Otherwise they were grants he requested benefiting his dependants, such as an award to the townsmen of Ludlow of the right of murage (a toll on all those coming and going from the town so they could rebuild the town walls), and a licence for him to make a small gift of land to Aconbury Priory, at which both Joan’s sisters were living. These were not the marks of unbridled acquisitiveness or dictatorship: they amounted to a lump sum of several hundred pounds and an income probably about half as much again as he had earned while he was Justiciar of Ireland. Unlike Isabella he was making relatively modest claims and taking time to explore the limits of his authority and power.
The explanation for Roger’s reluctance to seize great wealth immediately is simple. The examples of Despenser and Gaveston could be said to have haunted him. He did not seek huge grants as they did. He did not impose himself on the government’s largesse as they had done. Most importantly he did not attempt to stamp on his principal rival, Henry of Lancaster. Instead he cleverly allowed Lancaster officially to dominate Parliament and the regency council. He allowed the Lancastrian supporter, John de Ros, to be appointed Steward of the Royal Household. He did not oppose any of the pardons granted to the Lancastrians for their crimes and sentences in 1322 with the sole exception of that of Robert de Holand, in which he followed the Lancastrian demand for the man not to be pardoned. Henry of Lancaster was permitted officially to receive his late brother’s title of Earl of Lancaster. Most importantly a council of twelve or fourteen magnates and prelates was appointed, and Henry of Lancaster, not Roger, was given the chairmanship. This council was filled with members of the Lancastrian faction, for Henry Percy and John de Ros were Lancastrians, and Thomas Wake was not just a cousin of Roger’s, he was also a son-in-law to the late Earl of Lancaster. Indeed, it is open to question whether Roger even sat on this council.21 The only significant issue over which Henry of Lancaster did not gain complete success was in the restitution to himself of all his brother’s estates. Isabella herself had appropriated most of the vast wealth of Henry of Lincoln, which had descended to Alice, the miserable and estranged wife of the late Thomas of Lancaster, and thus kept part of what Henry of Lancaster considered his rightful inheritance. Lancaster was particularly angry that he had not received the honour and castle of Pontefract. This confr
ontation between Isabella and Lancaster, against the background of Roger’s purposeful avoidance of confrontation with the earl, suggests the queen’s acquisition of lands was not wholly with Roger’s blessing, and that her acquisition of personal wealth was the one area in which she refused to follow her lover’s advice.
Between the queen and Lancaster one can discern Roger playing a diplomatic role, playing down his own interests, trying perhaps to restrain the queen from acquiring too many lands, and trying to placate Henry of Lancaster. But as early as the end of March he realised placation was not a long-term strategy. Isabella’s acquisitiveness was too great, and Lancaster’s propensity to sulk even greater. In addition to her massively increased income Isabella had obtained in January a grant of £20,000 supposedly to pay her debts overseas (which had in fact already been paid) and had earlier received a further sum of £11,843, together with the treasures of Hugh Despenser and the Earl of Arundel.22 Henry of Lancaster bitterly complained. Roger, of course, stood by Isabella, and as a safeguard he did the one thing essential to preserve her and the regime he had set up in her name. He took Edward II out of the clutches of the Earl of Lancaster.
Custody of the king was vitally important to Roger. If Lancaster turned against the queen and promoted a counter-revolution, Edward II would be a natural rallying point for all those angered by Isabella’s greed. Alternatively, the earl could allow Edward to be ‘rescued’ by some of the extremist groups who were attempting to free the king and restore him. Even the Scots, who were now beginning to take arms again, could have been involved. One such attempt, by the Dunheved brothers, seems to have been made at the end of March.23 It was time to grasp the nettle.
The removal of the ex-king from Kenilworth Castle on 3 April 1327 was undoubtedly a strategy devised and put into effect by Roger. The two new custodians, Sir John Maltravers and Thomas, Lord Berkeley, were among his closest political supporters. Maltravers been knighted on the same day more than twenty years before, and had subsequently been a companion in Ireland,24 a fellow rebel in 1321, and a companion in exile on the Continent. Maltravers was close to Berkeley too, being married to his sister and having previously been in the retinue of the Earl of Pembroke with him. Berkeley himself had served in Roger’s household in 1318, rode with Roger in his 1321 rebellion, and had married Roger’s eldest daughter, Margaret. If the evidence of the propagandist chronicler Geoffrey le Baker is to be believed, one of the men-at-arms acompanying the king from Kenilworth was William Bishop, one of Roger’s men-at-arms in 1321.25 But perhaps the most intriguing piece of evidence indicating Roger’s responsibility for the transfer of the deposed king is that now, for the first extended period since invading the country, Roger left the court.
It is much easier to be certain of Roger’s whereabouts in the period after the deposition than at any time earlier in his career. From 1327 he frequently took it upon himself to be one of the barons who witnessed the granting of charters under the royal seal. In the first year of the reign of Edward III he witnessed at least fifty-seven of the ninety-one grants recorded on the Charter Rolls, thus indicating his presence on at least fifty-seven occasions. In addition he made about twenty requests for grants to be made to other people, at which his presence would almost certainly have been required. From this regularity of court service, combined with the usual means of establishing a medieval itinerary, we can be reasonably confident that the periods for which we have no positive information regarding his whereabouts indicate times when he was not at court.
There are two periods in 1327 during which Roger was absent from court for more than two weeks, the first being from early March to early May, the second being in the autumn. On both occasions he rejoined the court at Nottingham. Since on the second occasion he returned to Nottingham from South Wales, and thus by way of the Welsh Marches, it is quite possible that during the first period of absence he was also in the region of South Wales. This coincides with the king’s removal from Kenilworth in early April. The following year Henry of Lancaster accused Roger of taking the king by force from Kenilworth.26 Roger’s rare absence from court at this time and his possible presence in the region does suggest he was on standby to play a military role in seizing the ex-king if necessary, and, if Lancaster’s accusation was true, that he took Edward by force. The ex-king was taken from Kenilworth to Llanthony Priory near Gloucester, and from there to Berkeley, where he was kept in lordly comfort at an expense to the Exchequer of £5 a day.
By now Roger and Isabella had solved virtually all of the problems that had faced them six months earlier. They had forced the king to abdicate and had established the prince on the throne, thereby legitimising their authority, and they had safeguarded themselves from the ill will of the Earl of Lancaster, for the time being at least. Now a new problem raised its head, or rather an old problem, one that had beset and beaten both Edward I and Edward II: Scotland.
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On the day of the coronation the Scots had launched an exploratory raid on Norham Castle. They had been beaten back, but in March the court was informed by its spies of a build-up in Scottish forces preparatory to an invasion. Accordingly, as a precautionary measure, a general muster was ordered at the beginning of April. Although Roger and Isabella had been wholehearted in their determination to find a diplomatic settlement, peace negotiations between the two countries were constantly collapsing. Four sets of negotiators had been appointed, and one by one they had failed. This was strange, for it was in the interests of both sides to secure a lasting peace. How was it then that England and Scotland now found themselves heading for war?
The explanation lies in the Scots’ neutrality during Roger and Isabella’s invasion. If there had ever been a time for the Scots to attack England, it was in September 1326, when most of the English fleet had been tied up in the south and the army was reluctant to obey a general muster. But the Scots had not attacked. Before the invasion, Sir Thomas Randolph, Bruce’s chief negotiator, had gone to Paris to meet Roger and Isabella. Terms had been agreed: in return for a recognition of Scottish sovereignty, the Scots would not attack England during the invasion. Now the invasion was over, but no recognition of Scottish independence had taken place. Roger and Isabella had delayed their side of the bargain because they had not wanted to alienate the northern barons and Henry of Lancaster, to whom the idea of Scottish independence was anathema. Bruce was close to death now, and he wanted a recognition of Scottish independence in his lifetime. As a result he planned a three-pronged attack on England: through an invasion from Scotland, another from Ireland, and a rebellion in South Wales. Although Roger prevented the Irish rebellion by replacing Despenser’s justiciar there with his own former deputy, time was running out for a peaceful settlement.27
It was a difficult situation. Roger and Isabella did not want to fight. Scotland was, to all intents and purposes, lost, and the last thing they wanted was the expense of a new Scottish campaign. But they faced the enmity of the Earl of Lancaster if they did not. They devised a compromise strategy. They made the appearance of marching to defend the north, but planned to make no significant inroads into the Scottish position. They raised men from the boroughs and from John of Hainault, who was once more requested to bring a mercenary army. The feudal host was summoned, and, by the end of May, the English army was ready at York.
We know what happened in the ensuing weeks in some detail as Sir John of Hainault brought a chronicler in his retinue: Jean le Bel. His account corresponds well with what we know of the story in John Barbour’s poetic biography of Robert Bruce.28 Thus we have the whole story of what became known as the Weardale campaign from both sides, from its riotous beginning in the unlikely location of the dormitory of the Dominican friary at York.
On 7 June, to celebrate the arrival of Sir John, Isabella held a great feast at the friary where the court was staying. As part of the courtly entertainment, Isabella planned to entertain Sir John alone with sixty ladies-in-waiting at tables set up in the dormitory while the king hel
d court with all the men in the hall and cloisters. The ladies were superbly dressed, and dishes were passed around which had been dyed various colours so everyone had to guess what they were eating. But few of the dishes were tasted, as a violent quarrel quickly broke out between some of the Hainaulters’ servants and the English archers lodged with them. Seeing their fellows attacked, the English archers appeared with arrows notched in their bows, and shot some of the Hainaulters, forcing the others to seek refuge in nearby houses. Several householders panicked and refused to let the Hainaulters in to get their weapons. Fences and gardens were trampled in the ensuing panic, and those Hainaulters who managed to arm themselves gathered in a square to attack the archers. There followed a general melee between the Hainaulters and the English in which several hundred men on each side were killed. Le Bel claimed that more than three hundred English archers died. Peace was only restored when the king and the leading English magnates rode through the streets calling for the fighting to stop. But the damage had been done: from then on, the Hainaulters slept in their armour and posted guards on their lodgings. They said they feared the English archers were keener to kill them than the Scots.
