by Ian Mortimer
As the Launge arrests suggest, Edward's value as a symbol of his father's royal legitimacy was no longer important. The king had defeated those lords who demanded that his government be constitutional. Edward nevertheless remained high in his father's estimations. He was ordered to attend a colloquium at Ripon to discuss the war in Scotland, and was summoned to join the army in the summer campaign of 1323. But the main reason we may be certain that Edward remained very much in his father's mind is not regular orders such as these, which were sent to all the earls, but for the very particular role which the king next envisaged his son performing: that of a royal marriage partner, the surety for an international alliance.
The first attempt to find Edward a partner had been made, secretly, in 1318. Various acts of piracy between the men of William, Count of Hainault, and England had encouraged King Edward to look to his kinsman to establish a marriage bond and, with it, peace. He presumed he could rely on his queen to maintain relations with France, so Hainault and Spain were the obvious directions in which to look to advance English interests. On 7 December 1318 he wrote letters authorising Count William to pay heed to the message borne by an embassy of the bishop of Exeter, the earl of Hereford, and the lawyer, John Walwayn. They returned early the following year with a favourable response; so Edward sent them back in 1319 to enquire further. Despite a propitious start, in which the bishop reported that one particular daughter, Margaret, was of fair features suitable to be married to the prince, the matter did not progress. At the end of March 1321, the king wrote a frustrated letter to Count William, asking what his intentions were. The king went on to say that he wished to have an answer quickly as he had been solicited by the king of Aragon, amongst others, for the marriage of Edward.72 Although Count William did obtain a dispensation for the marriage, further acts of piracy disinclined the king to continue with the negotiations, and Edward remained unwed.
Edward II had not been bluffing. King James of Aragon had indeed been in contact about the possible match, and there were others interested as well. In 1323 Charles de Valois, uncle to Queen Isabella, proposed that his daughter should marry young Edward.73 The king preferred the idea of an alliance with Aragon, and in 1324 sent an embassy (including his brother, Edmund, and the archbishop of Dublin) with the power to conclude a marriage treaty and dowry. Nothing had come of it by January 1325, when the king received letters from Castile requesting that he consider a double marriage with that kingdom. Edward would marry Eleanor, daughter of King Alfonso, and Alfonso would marry Edward's sister Eleanor (then aged seven). In February yet another embassy was sent abroad to discuss the marriage. Edward's household, newly established at the Savoy Palace in London, waited to see to which great power would yield him a royal bride.
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As the rift between the king and queen deepened, Edward tried to remain close to each of his parents. But it was his father who remained able to affect his life most directly, as the gift of the Savoy Palace and the marriage negotiations show. It was also the king who arranged his education. We cannot be certain, but it seems likely that in July 1324 this took the form of the appointment of Richard Bury.
Although Bury has often been said to have been Edward's tutor, no record of his appointment has ever been found. One highly respected writer has even gone so far as to say that it is a 'widespread fiction', on the grounds that he was 'illiterate' and more particularly, between 1316 and 1324, he was in Edward's service at Chester.'6 The former of these two objections is ridiculous as Bury had been educated at Oxford and was a royal clerk, and thus very far from 'illiterate'. But the latter objection is valid. While there is no doubt that someone taught Edward how to read and write in both French and Latin, it was almost certainly not Bury. Edward was surrounded by royal clerks, and there may have been several who taught him to read and write. What is more important is the question of who influenced his thinking, and who expanded his intellectual horizons. With regard to this question, it is noticeable that Bury's appointment as Edward's chamberlain at Chester came to an end just before 18 July 1324, when he was described as 'lately' the chamberlain.78 After this date, although he remained a royal clerk, he seems to have occupied no identifiable position until February 1326 (after which he was regularly appointed by Edward to important positions). The king gave the Savoy Palace to Edward on 14 July 1324. It seems that this may mark the occasion of Bury leaving his post as chamberlain of Chester and becoming Edward's tutor in London.
This would be a tentative assumption, based only on the legend and a coincidence of dates, if it were not for two other facts. Unusually for a royal clerk, Bury was (and is) famous for his very extensive library, and because of this may well have attracted the attention of Edward's mother, Queen Isabella, who was herself a great lover of books.8" The second fact is the very great trust Edward placed in Bury in later years, suggesting a relationship stronger than that of a distant chamberlain and his lord. When Edward was empowered to appoint a constable of Bordeaux in 1325, Bury was the man selected. While it seems sensible to presume that Bury met the prince on at least an occasional basis prior to July 1324 - perhaps when delivering sums of money from Chester to Edward's treasurer in the south - it seems equally sensible to presume that he saw him more regularly after that date. Edward clearly had a very high regard for the man, and it seems foolish to ignore the probability that this high regard was due to Bury impressing him with his trustworthiness and apparent learning.
The word 'apparent' is used here advisedly. Bury's contemporary, Adam Murimuth, who knew him, described him as a mediocre man of letters who dressed modestly and died like a pauper but who, 'wishing to be considered a great scholar', acquired a huge number of books, so many 'that five great carts were not sufficient to carry them'. Bury's biographer,
William Chambre, claimed he had so many books in his chamber that one could not stand up without treading on them. As Murimuth suggests, large numbers of books are not in themselves a sign of scholarship. In addition, Bury seems only to have written one original text, the Philobiblon ('the Love of Books'), and that is a very personal and unusual book indeed. We must therefore ask the question, how scholarly was Bury?
The answer to this question.lies in the Philobiblon itself. It is an enthusiastic rant about the virtues of books: 'In books I find the dead as if they were alive; in books I foresee things to come; in books warlike affairs are set forth; from books come forth the laws of peace.' Its subject is not scholarship, or a survey of literature, but a justification of the acquisition and possession of books through the knowledge potentially to be gained from them. This is totally in line with what one would expect of a man of great ambition, to whom knowledge was important but whose service did not permit him to spend time in scholarly contemplation. It is likely that Bury's acquisitiveness with regard to books sprang from a thirst for influence, and possession of knowledge — albeit in book form - was one means of gaining this influence. Indeed, one suspects that Bury relished the potential of knowledge more than knowledge itself.
If Bury became Edward's tutor, or one of his tutors, in July 1324, our next question has to be what he might have taught his royal charge. We could answer this in two ways. We could elaborate on the formal education of the time, and we might presume that Bury stuck to the curriculum. Edward would have probably found this tedious, as he was inclined to activity and adventure more than study. The alternative is to look at the Philobiblon to see whether Bury might have supplied Edward with an education in line with his royal background. This second approach is interesting, especially when one considers that Bury was later held in very high esteem by his pupil. For instance, we may picture Bury in his late thirties telling the twelve-year-old prince about 'Alexander, the conqueror of the earth, and Julius [Caesar], the invader of Rome and of the world, who, the first in war and arts, assumed universal empire under his single rule'. War and arts! Edward could not have failed to be struck by Bury's exuberance, for the man was as passionate about his princely responsibilities a
s he was about books. As he himself put it: 'The history of the Greeks as well as Romans shows that there were no famous princes among them who were devoid of literature.' In a similar passage which seems to be referring to Bury's own pedagogical position: 'We read that Philip thanked the Gods devoutly for having granted that Alexander should be born in the time of Aristotle, so that educated under his instruction he might be worthy to rule his father's empire.' Bury very probably saw himself as an Aristotle to a young Alexander, especially given the conquests which the young man was prophesied to achieve. No wonder, then, that the authors Bury cited included a host of classical writers, with Aristode at their head. Of all the authors he mentioned, Bury commented on very few in detail, and criticised none of them in any depth, and we may suspect he impressed the prince by pretending familiarity with great thinkers of the past and knowing a little of each of their achievements. Nevertheless, the impact on young Edward of hearing just the names and a smattering of their backgrounds would have been sufficient to catch his imagination. He would have grown up as familiar with Achilles, Caesar and Alexander as King Arthur and characters in the Bible. Bury might not have been a scholar, but he had enthusiasm, and that is a powerful educational tool. If his conversation was as enthusiastic and wide-ranging as the Philobiblon suggests, he would have greatly encouraged the imagination of the young prince.
Bury would not have been the only man trying to affect Edward's thinking. Alongside a 'professional' tutor there would have been a whole host of clerks and knights trying to instill in Edward a particular view of the world, or a certain understanding of his future responsibilities as a king. Walter Milemete and William Pagula are two names which are particularly prominent in this respect. Both men wrote advisory works dedicated to Edward, to school him in the art of good kingship. William Pagula's advice, The Mirror of Edward III, which survives in two versions and probably was read to Edward, urged him to pay attention to the well-being of his subjects in a way particularly relevant for the civil-war-torn England of the 1320s. Walter Milemete's On the Nobility, Wisdom and Prudence of Kings survives today in a single, lavishly illustrated manuscript which was almost certainly intended as a presentation copy for Edward himself. If Edward had it read to him - or read it himself - he would have had an outline for ideal kingship. Walter exhorted Edward 'to know, understand and read the Scriptures and writings in French and Latin; and above all else to have the knowledge to write documents'.85 He included chapters on not revealing 'the counsels and secret plans of the king', and advised Edward to remove from his presence 'everyone who is covetous, avaricious or jealous'. Justice was given a prominent place among the virtues of the king, followed by prudence, temperance, courage and magnanimity. Mercy required a whole chapter to itself, as did the conduct of the king in war (which Walter drew almost entirely from the classical writer Vegetius). But above all else, Walter of Milemete and William Pagula were at pains to stress the importance of peace among the magnates. International war could be a good and honourable thing, but civil war was nothing short of disaster. Edward had probably learned that for himself in 1322. He would never be allowed to forget it.
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Medieval history is peppered with minor, almost unknown wars, whose unknown dead are not even commemorated by a recollection of the cause in which they fought, let alone a monument. Few today are familiar with the Despenser War mentioned above; not many more are familiar with the War of Saint-Sardos, which was the cause of the most important event to occur in the life of the young Edward of Windsor.
The War of Saint-Sardos grew out of a long-standing controversy over the rights of the abbot of Sarlat in the French diocese of Agen, held by the English king as part of the duchy of Aquitaine. The Benedictine monastery of Saint-Sardos, established by the abbot of Sarlat, was locally understood to be subject to the same laws as Sarlat itself: subject to French authority, not English. There was a great deal of friction over this matter, however, so that when the monks of Saint-Sardos sought and received French permission for a fortified town to be established on their land, the local Gascon lords took umbrage. One in particular, Raymond Bernard, burned down the existing buildings on the site and hanged the French royal official from the flagpole which he had just dutifully erected. The French were naturally outraged, and blamed the steward of Gascony for not taking action against Raymond Bernard. After a short while King Charles of France also blamed Edward II for not ordering his steward to inquire into the matter. This raised another problem, for Edward II had still not done homage to Charles for his lands in Gascony. In fact, just before hearing of the outrage, he had offered a series of rather weak excuses as to why he could not do so at the present time. Charles offered a brief postponement, but in the summer of 1324 Edward's negotiators - the earl of Kent and the archbishop of Dublin - refused to surrender Raymond Bernard's castle of Montpezat, as they had previously agreed. Charles understandably felt angry, confiscated the duchy, and sent his uncle Charles de Valois to recapture the region from the earl of Kent, whom Edward had ordered to defend it. The English lost several important towns before falling back on La Reole and suing for peace.
In January 1325 King Charles offered Edward II a way out of his predicament. He suggested that Queen Isabella be sent to negotiate with him on behalf of the English. Edward, seeing little other option, agreed, and let his wife return to her homeland to negotiate on his behalf. Despite the antagonisms she had suffered, she did as well as she could, but the English were in a very weak position. When terms were finalised on 31 May 1325, Charles demanded that the king of England should do homage to him for the duchy of Aquitaine, including Gascony. If the king was not prepared to leave the country, there was no alternative but to invest his eldest son with all the French possessions of the English Crown, and to send him instead.
For the king this was a huge problem. If he sent his son, he risked losing control of the valuable revenues of Gascony. Worse, he risked losing control of the boy himself. If the heir to the throne were to fall into his mother's hands, she might prevent him from returning to England, holding him hostage until her income was restored, or even betrothing him to a foreign ruler of her own choosing Suddenly, for the king, the royal symbolism of his son and heir, which had once been such an asset, seemed a liability, for there was no undermining his son's royal status. On the other hand, if King Edward went to France in person, he would have to leave behind Hugh Despenser, who was exiled from France. This was too similar to the circumstances in which he had lost Gaveston: through becoming separated from him. If Despenser were to lose the king's protection, he stood no chance of survival. There were too many lords in England who sought revenge for the kin they had seen hanged and left to rot after the battle of Boroughbridge.
Edward resolved that he would go himself. It was politically far too dangerous to allow his son to leave his control. Mortimer was still loose, and a small band of discontents was roaming the Continent with him, waiting for their opportunity. Although he did initially appoint the twelve-year-old Edward 'guardian of the realm and king's lieutenant' during his absence beyond the seas, he changed his mind almost immediately. At the eleventh hour Hugh Despenser and his father persuaded him that it would be better if his son should go. In all probability they managed this by hitting on a solution to his dilemma. The real danger lay in allowing the prince to fall into the hands of his mother. So why not demand her return at the same time? If she could be forced back to England, then the French king could be relied upon to protect his own nephew from falling into Mortimer's hands. And by adopting this strategy, the king did not need to risk Hugh Despenser being captured and murdered in his absence.
On 2 September 1325 Edward - two months short of his thirteenth birthday - was given the counties of Ponthieu and Montreuil. He then made the journey to Dover with his father where, on the 10th, he received the duchy of Aquitaine, and 'all the lands the king holds in the realm of France'. Edward's treasurer, William Cusance, was confirmed in charge of all his English lands.
Edward himself was placed in the guardianship of the fearless and uncompomising bishop of Exeter, Walter Stapeldon, and Sir Henry Beaumont. Two days later Edward sailed away from England, away from his father and Hugh Despenser, and towards a stranger destiny than had been prophesied for any English king.
TWO
A Treasonable Youth
As Edward made his way to die royal palace at Vincennes, near Paris, to perform homage to King Charles of France, the countryfolk flocked to see him. Here he was, the son of their Princess Isabella, the grandson of King Philip the Fair, nephew of Charles the Fair and the great-great-grandson of St Louis, the famous crusading king of France. Comeliness, spirituality and royalty all ran hand-in-hand in the French royal family, so each member was a spectacle to be seen, as well as a spiritual marvel. Politically too, he was important. Isabella had maintained her French links, visiting France on several occasions, and had attracted considerable French sympathy when she had been neglected by her husband in favour of Piers Gaveston. This appearance in France of her first-born son and the heir to the English throne was not to be missed.
