The Perfect King

by Ian Mortimer

  On 7 August Edward was at Perth. The French message had still not reached him, but his messengers had brought news that the French were gathering ships in the Channel. Rumours of Philip's plans to aid the Scots had also reached him. And the vulnerability of his kingdom, stripped of its fighting men, was very much on his mind. On 12 August he designated men to represent him at a council in London, and appointed others to array and lead the Londoners if the realm should be invaded. On 18 August the seriousness with which Edward regarded the threat of invasion was shown by his order to remove his infant son, Edward, to the safety of Nottingham Castle. The rumour in the north was that Philip had requisitioned seven hundred and fifteen vessels, in alliance with the king of Bohemia. Edward divided his kingdom into three and ordered local magnates to oversee the defence of each part. Ships were requisitioned to defend the coasts. Beacon fires were to be assembled. Edward ordered Montagu to defend the Channel Islands. England and Wales were poised to expect a French armada, to be launched by Philip of France in the name of David II.

  The situation had developed to a point of war between England and France on account of the intransigence of their two leaders. On a personal level, this was merely the natural arrogance of medieval warrior-kings. But at a diplomatic level, royal pride could have serious consequences. It was only to be expected that not backing down should become a point of honour between the two kingdoms as well as the two kings. And both men dominated their courts so completely that royal advisers were urging both kings on to greater declarations of bellicosity. Neither side was proceeding with caution. Having said that, there was a fundamental difference between their two positions at this time. Edward was on the offensive, and he did have a legal claim to back up his actions. Thus he had something to gain, and the initiative accordingly lay with him. In any compromise, it was Edward who stood to benefit most. And in the matter of Scotland, Philip had nothing to gain at all. Even if he had been successful, and had forced Edward to acknowledge the right of David II to rule, Edward would merely have turned his attention elsewhere, perhaps to an attack on France. This is why, although Philip did not let on as much, the pope had secretly urged him to back down and to give up the Scots cause. Philip's sole achievement in sending a few dozen ships to raid the English coast was to shock the richest and hitherto most secure towns of the kingdom into the realisation that they too were vulnerable to attack from France, even though France had no claim on England. Until then only northern England had recently experienced foreign aggression at first hand. When the good burghers of Southampton and Portsmouth found themselves set upon and their houses burnt, Edward's ability to raise money for a foreign war was suddenly increased.

  August 1335 was the point of no return in the developing struggle between Edward and Philip. When Philip's letter of support for the Scots finally arrived, Edward replied that his pacification of Scotland would be over quickly and would not impede arrangements for the crusade. He added that Philip had no right to get involved, as this was a purely domestic matter between him and his subjects. Quietly, the pope was saying much the same thing to Philip. Even more telling was the capture by the garrison of Roxburgh of the Scots patriot, the earl of Moray. With his capture, pressurised by Edward's army, the other Scots leaders saw they now had little to gain and much to lose, and gave themselves up. David of Strathbogie surrendered and received his English estates back. The earl of Fife surrendered Cupar Castle. Alexander and Geoffrey Mowbray gave themselves up, and promised to renew their allegiance. Robert Stewart -next in line to the throne after David II - also surrendered. To cap it all, Edward's Irish invasion force finally arrived and proceeded with an onslaught on Rothesay Castle. Although they were unsuccessful, Edward had emphatically made his point. He could bring three armies against

  Scotland simultaneously from three different directions, as well as a naval attack on the Perth and Dundee region. If Scotland wanted a king, it would have to be one appointed by him. And if Philip wanted to mediate in Scottish affairs, he would have to use force.

  As Edward returned to the lowlands of Scotland in September, he was minded to make another permanent reminder of his Scottish foray. Edinburgh was the weak link, where Robert of Namur had been captured. To secure the Scottish city would be further to strengthen his grip on the lowlands, and a safeguard on the English border. Bruce had originally conquered Scotland through subduing and reducing the English fortifications; now Edward set himself the task of rebuilding them, and reinforcing them. He maintained Roxburgh and Berwick on the border. With Edinburgh now a third castle under his control, and Caerlaverock a fourth, it seemed that Edward had reinforced the border for the foreseeable future. There was just one flaw in his plan. It was obvious to the man whom he appointed to command Edinburgh, John Stirling. Edward was bent on saving money, coming away from Scotland with more than £25,000 of wages still unpaid. Therefore he ordered the smallest garrison which conceivably could maintain each fortress. How would they withstand the next wave of attacks? John Stirling realised that such small numbers were insufficient to guard them against all eventualities. Only in 1337 did Edward begrudgingly acknowledge that Stirling was right.

  Edward's policy towards Scotland - a state of continual war, punctuated by occasional large-scale expeditions - had worked satisfactorily. The long respites in the fighting meant his men could return home to their communities while he himself could set about arranging further instalments of much-needed cash to pay for the next expedition. Keeping the war going - never agreeing to peace but only a series of truces - allowed him to keep the pressure on the Scots, and eventually to wear them down. Hence he remained on the border through the winter, to emphasise his readiness to resume the fighting. Christmas was spent not in comfort with Philippa but at Roxburgh Castle, looking out at the frozen flood waters which covered the land.5" The war, he was reminding the Scots, the French and the pope, was not over. Unless a permanent peace could be arranged, and one which was on his terms, he would raise another army the following year, and yet another the next.

  Edward was not going to initiate such a peace agreement. This was not just because of his pride; each time the Scots or French asked him to renew the truce he could demand more concessions. But in late 1335 Philip of France and the pope were particularly eager to see a permanent settlement come about. Philip had been told in no uncertain terms by the pope that his cherished crusade was dependent on peace in Europe, and especially between England and France. Accordingly both Philip and the pope sent negotiators to see Edward. Edward was in no rush to come to any agreement, and it was January 1336 before any measure of acceptable compromise was tabled. Edward renewed his truce with Scotland for a further three months — to 12 May - and demanded that the Scots who had not surrendered to him (now led by Sir Andrew Murray) should give up their sieges of two Scottish castles. It was agreed that Edward Balliol would rule Scotland for his lifetime and that David II would be his heir. Andrew Murray himself seems to have agreed to this. The only other party whose agreement was required was David II himself, still in exile in France. This was merely a formality: David was still only twelve years old and had no real personal authority. But messengers, not ambassadors, arrived from the king of Scotland at the Westminster parliament in March 1336. David II had refused, and he had refused to countenance any further compromises or truces. The papal nuncios and the French envoys - who were present at the parliament - were probably no less aghast than Edward.

  Edward's reaction was utter disbelief, followed swiftly by anger. It certainly seems strange to the modern reader that David II did not agree to the peace. But we are too detached from the hatreds, pride, jealousies, animosities and envies of the period, and die sources barely convey how much hatred there must have been on somebody's part to come to this decision on David II’s behalf. For it was not David's own decision - the boy was too young - and therefore someone in his faction ordained this course of action. It could have been Andrew Murray and his associates, adopting a strategy of parleying w
ith Edward but continuing resistance through their safely-protected boy-king. Or it might have been King Philip, secretly persuading David's guardians that they could only lose by this deal. Whoever was behind it, the rebuke set Edward on a path of angry war, and crucially it caused the pope to call off the crusade. Edward now knew that, when Philip's disappointment had worn off, it would leave him with all his men and ships unused, his weapons sharpened for war, and no obvious enemy except the man who had come between him and his dream of reconquering the Holy Land.

  On 3 April 1336, Edward had dinner on his ship called the Christopher, which was then moored in the Thames near the Tower of London. We do not know who was with him, but we may suppose he did not dine alone; eating on board a boat was a way to achieve a high degree of privacy with regard to one's companions as well as what was said. He had been staying at Eltham, and seems to have come briefly to the Tower for this meal. The next day he began a journey to Waltham Abbey, the pilgrimage site in Essex which he often visited. He stayed at Waltham for a week, during which he granted at least three requests to found chantries to pray for his father's soul, then returned to the Tower on 13 April. All this seems curious when we consider that the truce with Scotland was about to run out on 12 May, and that Edward was supposed to be heading north again with his troops, as he had previously arranged. He even took the unusual step (for him) of appointing someone else to lead the army. It so happens that this delay coincides with the appearance of Niccolinus Fieschi. On 15 April, Edward issued letters confirming the engagement of Niccolinus, otherwise known as 'Cardinal', as a member of the king's council, with an annuity of £20 and robes befitting a knight.

  Niccolinus was a relative - perhaps first cousin once-removed - of the author of the Fieschi letter, Manuel. Edward had previously received him at Westminster in February 1333, and his visit then had coincided with Edward sending his trusted friend Richard Bury to the papal court on 'secret business'. Now his reappearance coincided with another important date, for the Fieschi letter was very probably written in early 1336. Niccolinus's arrival marked the start of a long and important relationship with Edward, in which Niccolinus undertook much secret business for the king at Avignon and other places, and was paid the very significant sum of between two and three hundred pounds each year in lieu of this work, his status rising eventually to the point of helping to negotiate several international treaties on Edward's behalf.65 This points to an extraordinary level of trust placed in a man who was not only a foreigner, but a foreigner who was related to the author of that letter and who had prior obligations to two potentially hostile foreign powers: the Genoese (who fought on the French side in the forthcoming war) and the pope.

  If Edward received the Fieschi letter at this time, as seems likely, then this marks the point when he finally learnt where his father was: Northern Italy. But however relieved he may have felt, this news raised as many problems for him as it solved. Firstly, if we are right in thinking that Edward II had been held all this while by his kinsman Cardinal Luca Fieschi, with the acquiescence of the pope, then the peace negotiations were delicate, as the pope was French and Cardinal Fieschi had just died. For this reason, as well as his own standing in England, it was of paramount importance to Edward that the information itself remained secret. Prayers and masses were said for Edward II just as before. Chantries were founded to help his soul even more frequently than before. But Edward did start at this point to resolve the conflicts which had arisen from the problem involving his father. One example is his smoothing out of the anomaly of the accusation still hanging over Lord Berkeley - of appointing the men who supposedly murdered Edward II - which he did through wholly acquitting him at the next sitting of parliament. Another was that he purchased the land for his father's intended foundation of King's Hall at Cambridge University (now part of Trinity College), which he properly recognised and endowed by charter the following year. A third is that he turned his attention to his father's tomb, with the fake body in it, at Gloucester. On 15 September 1337 Edward paid a visit to Gloucester (his first since taking power in 1330). There he saw the newly elected abbot, Adam Staunton, and may have indicated his intentions eventually to bury his father in the tomb. His idea as to how to get the bodies changed over was beautifully simple: he lent his own great mason and architect, William Ramsey, to supervise the rebuilding of the choir there. Lastly, it is possible that we may discern a fourth resolution, that of his own relationship with his long-lost father. It would appear that he asked Niccolinus Fieschi to arrange for him to meet his father in person.

  By mid-May 1336 Edward was ready for another attack on Scotland. He set off at an extraordinary pace. He was in or near Reading on 16 May. Thereafter his progress north was very quick indeed. On 4June his wardrobe was at Towcester, the next day Northampton, the next day Leicester, the next Allerton, the next Pontefract, the next Topcliffe, and on 10 June Edward arrived in Durham. After a quick supper with the bishop of Durham, Richard Bury, he went on northwards, his tired servants reaching Kelso on 15 June and Perth on the 19th. So sudden was his arrival in Scotland that not only was the enemy surprised to see him arrive; his own army was too.

  Edward's haste was not just due to a desire to catch up with his army, led in his absence by the earl of Lancaster. He was also acutely aware of the growing ambitions of France. Philip had realised the weakness of a policy which committed him to a war in Scotland and which he was never prepared to support with force. He had accordingly persuaded the French parliament to act on its resolutions of the previous year to land a French army in Scotland. Invading armies needed landing places where they could enjoy safety and find supplies. Edward thus had plans to destroy any possible form of nourishment within reach of suitable landing places on the east coast of Scotland. Abbeys were emptied of their food supplies, cattle slaughtered, corn fields burned. Whole towns were destroyed.

  Edward personally saw to the destruction of Aberdeen. Against the vigour of the English army in full destructive flow, the Scots could do nothing. William Keith, Andrew Murray and William Douglas may have felt bitterly angry that Edward was wrecking their countrymen's homes, food supplies and livelihoods but they too would have seen that this was a strategic necessity. The ambition to be a 'perfect' king was not incompatible with the ruthless destruction of food supplies and defensive structures, or any other aspect of the efficient prosecution of a bloody conflict.

  While Edward was savaging the north, and chivalrously rescuing the widow of the earl of Atholl from a siege at Lochindorb, a great council was held at Northampton. Edward had appointed the archbishop of Canterbury (Chancellor), Henry Burghersh (Treasurer) and his brother, John, to preside at this council, but on one day at least it seems Philippa took charge. Beside the archbishop of Canterbury, seven bishops, and forty-six barons, knights and other magnates were present. They decided another embassy should be sent to France, to seek a compromise to the conflict which was developing. Edward agreed, and sent word accordingly to the bishops of Durham and Winchester. He also summoned his brother to help him in Scotland. As a precaution, he placed all the royal castles of southern England on a state of alert, and instructed the earls of Arundel and Surrey to defend their fortifications at Arundel and Lewes.

  At die end of the summer, the crisis suddenly worsened. Edward summoned another council to meet at the end of September, this time at Nottingham. The envoys proposed by the previous council had been utterly unsuccessful in trying to get a compromise from Philip, who was determined to go to war. In fact, Philip declared openly to Edward's envoys that he would send an army to help the Scots, and would do all he could to assist them. The French fleet - amassed by Philip to fight the infidel -was now sailing around the southern English ports attacking any English ships they found. Edward wrote to his admirals on 18 August urging them to intercept the enemy and declaring that 'our progenitors, the kings of England, have before these times been lords of the English sea on every side ... and it would very much grieve us if in this kind of de
fence our royal honour should be lost'. But Edward's claim to sovereignty of the seas was of little help to the crews of those merchant vessels which the French caught. Those who were trapped at sea had the choice of the sword or the waves. No merchant was safe. Englishmen in Ghent and Bruges began to be rounded up on the orders of the count of Flanders, Philip's ally. At the height of this extreme panic, which Edward was powerless to control from Scotland, he received utterly dreadful news. John of Eltham, his only brother, had died suddenly.

  John was just twenty years old. Edward had been fond of him, had raised him to the earldom of Cornwall, and had shared with him the terror of Mortimer's dictatorship. John alone had benefited from a flood of estates and rewards after Mortimer's fall, when Edward was too cautious to distribute largesse to his non-royal friends.74 He had been the Sir Bors to Edward's Sir Lionel: the two brothers growing up under the rule of the usurper 'King Claudas'. John's marriage was a subject to which Edward had given very considerable thought, first favouring Jeanne, a daughter of the count of Eu, then Mary of Blois, then Mary of Coucy, and lasdy a daughter of King Ferdinand of Castile. John's death also marked the loss of the only one of Edward's brethren still in England. His sister Joan was in France, married to his enemy David II, and Eleanor was married to the count of Guelderland, in the Low Countries. Of his family he had only his wife and three children, his forty-year-old mother, and one uncle left. In this light it is all the more shocking to read of a rumour that the cause of John's death was murder. And a most extraordinary murder too. He was supposed to have been stabbed in a rage by Edward himself.