‘The sickness has dealt our people a terrible blow!

Its horrible effects have caused nothing but sorrow and woe!

Is it a punishment from God for our sins? Well, the Bible states that you will reap what you sow!’

Was divine intervention the reason for the Black Death? Whatever the cause, the effects of the pestilence on English life was devastating. Of course as has been noted, it was the sheer number of people falling sick and dying which made the greatest initial impact. Then there were the burials or absence of them, as quite often there was not enough of the living to perform that particular, most necessary of chores. Crops rotted in the fields because there was no one left to harvest them.

Reaping what you had sown became a less common sight in 1348.

Church services, long  the heart of medieval life, ceased because the priests had died denying people the religious succour that they so badly needed in these troubled times.

‘The foul pestilence felled both the greatest and the least!

And neither did it deign to spare the faithful, humble, holy priest!’

No one to say prayers on the day of our village patron saint’s feast!

The courts of law were often closed. which when combined with these highly unusual circumstances, probably contributed to further lawlessness.  Parliament did not sit as regularly as before, so the king decided to rule by decree. The royal family were not left untouched, indeed they were amongst the first to be affected. The king’s daughter, fourteen year old Joan, succumbed to the disease at Bordeaux in July whilst en-route to her wedding to the son of King Alfonso of Castile.

‘Oh do have pity for Joan, she who so hoped for the joy of the first wedding bell!

For Joan of England, there would be nought but the slow sound of the death knell!’

Princess Joan

By God’s teeth, what horror! Edward was grief-stricken at the news of Joan’s death. He spoke of her goodness and gave effusive thanks to God for the short time that she was allowed to enrich the royal family by her presence.

‘My dear Joan as a daughter, I could not fault her!

Now my sweet daughter has fallen victim to this terrible slaughter!’

The king, helpless in the face of this avalanche of lethal sickness, could do little but to exhort the people to engage in fasting and prayer in a desperate attempt to halt its dreadful, unstoppable carnage. Edward, probably the greatest showman to ever sit on the English throne, now spoke to his beleaguered subjects. His message to every town and village would have read as follows:

‘You my poor people must not rage at the pestilence with anger and bile!

No! Oh no, do not simply weep at the ravages of an ailment so very vile!

I urge you, one and all to fight it’s advance with harsh self-denial!

Self-denial! Yes, this must now be your new but permanent lifestyle!

Of course, this greatest of  calamities is in its effects, terribly and totally unfair!

 But I have nothing to say to you, but get down on your knees! On your knees, and say prayer after prayer!’

 

The Order of the Garter.

However, despite the disastrous situation, King Edward found time to develop a project which had been close to his heart for quite some time. Edward decided to create a formal body whose membership would be open to only of those who had shown exceptional military ability. Any landed magnate who thought that their wealth and status would make them an ideal candidate for membership, would be swiftly disabused of any such notion. Entry to this body would depend not on nobility of birth, but on proven skill in combat.

‘You think that your aristocratic title will get you entry to the Order of the Garter!

No kid, think again, entry by family name is a simple non-starter!

You must show that in deadly combat you were brave and quick thinking!

Can you prove that after the battle that you left the king’s enemies prone, putrid and stinking!’

The new military elite was to be titled the Order of the Garter. Surprisingly, members were not to be endowed with riches, this was a tight, military elite force with a strong sense of esprit de corps.

Henry of Lancaster – an early member of the Order of the Garter.

1348 had been a terrible year, but there is of course an upside to most bad things, King Edward considered the Order of the Garter a most noble achievement. What were the king’s thoughts as 1348 turned into 1349?

‘Well, t’was a bad year, every family in the realm did shed a tear!

The very worst year of my reign, because so little did we gain!

As we go into 1349 I just hope that everything will be well and fine!

Edward arrived back in England in October 1347 to national acclaim at his triumph in France. The medieval media which took the form of the priest in his pulpit and the town crier standing at the market cross regaled the people with tales of the king’s staggering military victories over the French. Even those who had initially resented the taxes that had been levied to pay for the war now agreed that it was money well spent. Edward made a tour of England and basked in the adulation of his subjects who were in awe of their successful warrior king. The King beamed as he rode through the towns on his charger waving his hat at the assembled crowds who replied with the loudest of cheers.

‘Oh! How loudly did the church bells ring!

Oh! How joyously did the choirs sing!’

Edward wanted a great colourful pageant to mark this zenith of English military achievement. Tournaments were held to show off the martial skills of the country’s mounted knights. Plays were staged to mark this occasion of national triumph. The people, particularly the women were dazzled by the fine clothing and other household goods, plundered from France and given to them as presents by their returning menfolk.

A medieval tournament.

The latter months of 1347 and those of early 1348 were a time of celebration, colour and thanksgiving. King Edward had never before felt so confident and proud. These were truly golden days!

But gold can turn to 

Black!

Then there is no turning back!

However a  horror awaited the adoring multitudes that would infect every nook and cranny of his realm.

‘Oh mighty King Edward, your subjects do marvel at your military excellence!

But soon, so many of them would be consumed by the coming of a terrible pestilence!’

A terrible disease which was thought to have originated in central Asia had spread throughout Europe arrived in England in the summer of 1348. It’s point of entry is believed to have been the port of Melcombe in Dorset. The pestilence was to travel rapidly and reached London by the autumn. Once infected, the victims would develop large swellings or buboes under the armpits or in the groin which oozed blood and pus. This was accompanied by aching limbs, a high fever and delirium. Death usually occurred within three or four days.

Victims of the Black Death

The source of the disease has been attributed to fleas which lived in the fur of rats who dwelt in very close proximity to human beings. Medieval towns were filthy places with ditches full of both animal and human sewage. People were unaware of the problem of germs  and would cheerfully empty their chamber pots into the street resulting in an never ending tide of sewage through which the populace was forced to wade. It was not uncommon for people to throw the contents of their chamber pots without any consideration of anyone walking by. This meant that many an unfortunate pedestrian went home with sewage drenched hats and cloaks. All of this dripping filth was carried into the houses  as they walked through the door smearing it on the floor.

‘Oh but the smell, how did they stand the smell?

It had ever been thus thus, to them this was normal, so everything was well!

Oh, but the mess, on the floor, the terrible mess!

They had known it since birth, so they really could not care less!’

The wooden framed dwellings with their thatched roofs were easily penetrated by rats with their lethal cargo of disease ridden fleas.

The death toll was shocking. It has been estimated that somewhere between a third and half of the population of England died. The pestilence was even handed in its delivery. It did not discriminate between the rich and the poor. All were fair game for its merciless touch. The dead were interred in mass graves as the graveyards were soon filled to overflowing.

‘Filled with human flesh and bone, the graveyards became fat and high!

The weeping mourners, wondering when it would be their turn to die!’

The land became desolate, market squares once hives of activity were now bereft of man or beast, save for the rats, who gnawed at any flesh that they came upon. The only sound coming from the houses and hovels was often the death cries of the dying or the wailing of the bereaved. In many villages there was only silence, as the dead do not speak and the living had fled

‘1348 a year which had begun with the English standing tall, saluting the king’s military belligerence!

Ended with the people, heads bowed on their knees praying pitifully for deliverance!’

As he surveyed the battlefield at Crecy with its thousands of French corpses, Edward would have said:

‘How sweet it is! Oh how so very sweet!

To watch Philip’s army beat such a hasty retreat!’

An English commander realising that the king was not in his tent asked a servant: ‘Perchance, where art his majesty?

The servant replied:

He’s out in the field, busy counting the French dead!

The king is upset that so many of the French actually fled!

 

Edward III counting the French dead at Crecy.

Determined to capitalise on his incredible victory at Crecy, Edward moved north to the French port of Calais. Edward began the siege of the port in September and the inhabitants would hold out stoically for nearly a year. Whilst watching Calais’s walls, he got more good news from England in October. The king of Scots, David II, had invaded England as part of his alliance with Philip VI.  King David expected to attain a great victory over the English while Edward’s back was turned in France. However, English forces inflicted a heavy defeat on the Scots at Neville’s Cross near Durham and had captured King David. Edward was ecstatic, and Philip VI totally despondent. Edward had vanquished two ancient enemies in a matter of days.

David II of Scotland meets with Philip VI of France.

The battle of Neville’s Cross, October 1346.

 

Edward would have remarked:

‘So you thought that you could attack my realm while I was away in France, Davy boy!

But your cheeky, sneaky attack has brought you only deep bitterness, not great joy!

Now you are going to be paraded through the streets of London astride a big black horse! 

Whilst the people of London, shout insults at you until they cry themselves hoarse!’

True to his word, that is exactly what happened.

The siege of Calais.

Edward was determined to take Calais, because as a port it would give him a vital gateway into France to advance his campaign against Philip VI. Edward, a man who knew the importance of pageantry, arranged his army before the city walls where the inhabitants could see them. The steel armour of the knights glistening in the sun would have made for a splendid but formidable sight. The archers holding up their longbows which had felled the French military elite at Crecy only weeks before were a grim reminder of what might lie in store for themselves. At the head of the English host, the royal standard bearing the lions of England quartered by the golden lilies of France, was held aloft for all to see.

The Calais garrison under the command of Jean de Vienne was determined to resist the siege and awaited an army from Philip VI which never came. After a while the English proved successful in preventing supplies getting into the port by either land or sea. As time went on, famine set in and the besieged were reduced to eating any vermin that they could find.  On June 25th in desperation, de Vienne wrote a letter to Philip VI which stated that:

‘we can find no more food in the town unless we eat men’s flesh…this is the last letter that you will receive from me, for the town will be lost and all of us that are within it.’

The English intercepted the letter, and Edward, after reading its contents stamped his own royal seal upon it and sent it on to Philip. On August 1st 1347, with no help forthcoming from King Philip, de Vienne and the city burghers  decided to surrender Calais to Edward. Edward agreed to spare the lives of the people of Calais on condition that six of its leading citizens (burghers) would submit themselves to him attired in white shirts with each of their necks adorned with a noose. They would then be hanged in full view of the population of Calais. Again, it was stereotypical of Edward’s highly developed sense of political showmanship. A piece of macabre theatre which would incite a grim thrill amongst his own men and also engender a feeling of utter shame and despair in the hearts of the vanquished French.

The burghers of Calais submitting to Edward.

 

However, it is said that Edward’s wife Queen Philippa of Hainhault interceded on behalf of the six condemned burghers. It is said that she implored the king to spare their lives but the king, not wishing to deny his men a promised performance, initially declined the Queen’s request.

Queen Philippa implores the king to spare the lives of the burghers of Calais.

At the Queen’s insistence, the king reluctantly relented and the burghers were spared. It has been suggested that Edward intended to spare their lives all along and that the Queen’s act of mercy was in fact a starring role in a scene of contrived drama.

Edward evicted the entire population of Calais who were then replaced by English settlers. The port of Calais became an English colony which would act as a springboard to mount further attacks upon the French.

‘On his arrival back home!

Edward falls out with the man who sits under Canterbury Cathedral’s great dome!’

However delicious Edward’s victory at Sluys may have tasted, trouble lay ahead. The war with Philip had left him heavily in debt. In a furious frame of mind, the king blamed his chief advisers, especially the Archbishop of Canterbury John Stratford, for his predicament. This was quite unreasonable as Stratford had been opposed to his French adventure. Nevertheless, Edward wrote to the Pope claiming that Stratford had deliberately withheld  funds from him in order to cause his defeat, and even death. Edward’s fury knew no bounds and so frightened was the Archbishop that he fled London to take sanctuary in Canterbury Cathedral. After a particularly nasty argument, Edward made up with the Archbishop of Canterbury in late 1340.

Brittany was the scene of Edward’s next attempt to topple King Philip VI of France. In April 1341, the Duke of Brittany died and the succession was disputed by two claimants. Edward supported John of Montfort as duke on condition that he pay fealty to him as king of France.

Brittany would give Edward a much needed foothold with which to undermine Philip, and hopefully win the French throne for himself. Edward achieved a number of victories but did not make a decisive breakthrough. In the process, he managed through his greed,  to ruin the business of many an Italian banker by his refusal to repay his loans. The king returned to England to prepare for a large-scale invasion of France. However, Edward would need the support of the English military class for such an undertaking. He embarked on a public relations campaign describing the rich pickings that lay across the Channel in France. Edward decided to appeal to their more noble instincts.

‘Come hither you lusty knights, for of you in France I have great need!

The risks are of course there, but the rich rewards will satisfy even the greatest greed!

For I intend to kick Philip VI from the throne of France with an almighty boot!

And in the process I guarantee that you will receive huge bundles of  glorious loot!’

Ever the showman, Edward held magnificent jousting tournaments at a newly rebuilt Windsor castle in 1344. The English nobility were invited to come and demonstrate their mastery of the martial arts in front of the king and the aristocracy. It was a sumptuous affair replete with references to the Arthurian legends of yore, which acted as a backdrop to the contemporary monarchy of Edward. The king and his warrior class would be the new knights of the Round Table. Of course, their first show of strength would be the armies of King Philip VI of France.

A jousting tournament.

Edward’s advertising campaign worked and the magnates of England enthusiastically backed Edward’s planned invasion of France. The English invasion force landed on the Normandy coast in July 1346. After leaving an enormous swathe of death and destruction across northern France, Edward engaged Philip’s army at the small town of Crecy-en-Ponthieu on August 26th 1346. Morale amongst the English forces was high as Edward, true to his word, had provided them with ample opportunity to loot the region to their heart’s content.

‘We the valiant knights and soldiers of King Edward’s army have lately become quite rich!

Therefore, we will fight with courage and skill, because we will not leave our valuables behind in some French ditch!’

King Edward faced an army three times larger than his own, but he was quietly confident of victory over the French. Characteristically, he visited the soldiers and encouraged them with his natural bonhomie and good humour. Probably the main reason for his sense of confidence was his faith in the skills of his bowmen. In this he would be proved correct. The range and speed of the longbow would reap a plentiful harvest of death. As for the French, Philip, against his better judgement allowed himself to be persuaded by his commanders to advance against the English immediately. As they did so, the French forces were cut down by the English archers who could despatch perhaps twelve arrows a minute. This was in contrast with the Italian crossbow men fighting with the French who could fire only four bolts a minute.

The Battle of Crecy, August 1346.

As the thousands of arrows flew through the air, they made a terrible roar!

Amongst the flower of France’s finest knights, much blood did they draw!’

The skill of the bowmen was complemented by Edward’s superb organisation. He made sure that they were adequately supplied with arrows by a relay of servants who kept the bowmen up to strength at all times. The result was carnage, pure and simple, amongst the French forces. After the volley of arrows ceased, Edward’s foot soldiers would advance and despatch the wounded French with gusto and relish. Some 12,000 or more of the French army perished on that balmy summer evening in 1346 whilst English losses numbered but a hundred.

‘So there lay the bodies of the fighting French folk!

The green fields of Crecy with their blood they did soak!

Edward was in a state of elation.

 

 

 ‘So tis to war we must now both go!

You know King Phil, I’d much rather have you as a friend than a foe!’

The war that would last for so long was actually rather slow in coming about. In January 1340, Edward had infuriated Philip by rather cheekily adopting for himself the title, King of France. However, the mutual large scale blood-shedding that would become known as the Hundred Years War, did not actually start until June 1340.

Round one of the conflict was a sea battle off the Flemish port of Sluys.

The Battle of Sluys, June 24th 1349.

What would King Edward have actually been thinking at this juncture in the summer of 1340? A contemporary interview might have gone along the following lines.

My dear King Edward, what lies in your heart today?

‘ Anger! Anger! And a lot of it! That crooked toad, Philip was appointed to be king of France by his French friends when the throne was rightfully mine. I was the nearest living relative to the last king, because he was my uncle, whereas Phil is a distant cousin!’

What, your most gracious majesty, will be your next move?

Well, toad Philip has hired a load of Italian and Spanish pirates to help him attack me and invade England! He has them all holed up along the Flemish coast at a place called Sluys! Not content with getting hold of one throne by thievery, he wants another! I am going to sail down there and flush them out like rats from a hole!

I understand that you have been advised against attacking Sluys!

Yea, By dear old  Archbishop Robbie, Stratford! He says the enemy fleet is too strong and that my attack will fail! He means well, the decent old fellow, but no dice. I am going in for the kill on June 24th!

Thank you your most gracious majesty! 

The Battle of Sluys, 1340.

At Sluys, Philip had assembled a huge fleet with which to attack Edward. In fact, it would be Edward who would start the ball rolling by attacking Philip’s great armada. During the medieval period, both sides would use  grappling hooks  to prevent an enemy ship from sailing away whilst their soldiers  boarded it. Savage hand to hand fighting would inevitably follow.

Close hand to hand fighting at the battle of Sluys.

‘King Philip had a huge armada! There were the French and some Castilians and others were Genoese!

No matter, Edward destroyed the entire large force with unbelievable ease!’

In the melee that followed, Edward defeated the larger French force at minimal cost to himself. One reason for this was the disastrous tactics chosen by the senior French commander, Nicholas Behuchet. He had ordered that his ships be chained together for defensive purposes. Another factor was the devastating effect of the English longbow, which Edward had deployed to great success against the Scots at Halidon Hill in 1333. The king would do so again here at Sluys. Although the French had crossbowmen, they were no match for the archers with their longbow, which was much quicker to use than the crossbow.

In the hours of fighting, tens of thousands lost their lives. The vast majority of these were French. Some were killed outright duelling with their opponents, whilst others having been hauled over the side, drowned due to the weight of their armour.

One of the two senior French commanders, Nicholas Behuchet was captured and hanged from the mast of his own ship.

Nicholas Behuchet

The icing on the cake of this victory was that the English managed to retake one of their vessels, the massive ship, The Christopher, which the French had captured in 1338.

The Christopher.

Although Edward himself was wounded in the battle, no amount of physical pain could temper the sweet taste of victory!

‘I was hit in the leg with a bolt!

But, despite the pain, I will take the time to sit back, relax, smile and gloat!’

‘A victorious military monarch, his age but twenty!

Is there more to come? Yes, much more! Oh yes, plenty!’

King Edward III.

After his victory at Halidon Hill in that glorious summer of 1333, King Edward left Balliol in Scotland to quell any further Scottish resistance and travelled south in triumph. The king now turned his gaze across the sea to France, where Philip VI sat on the throne.

King Philip VI of France! – O Lucky Man!

King Philip VI of France was something of an accidental king and had never been expected to wear the French crown. He was the cousin of three brothers who had all been kings of France, but who had died young without leaving male issue. Because of this family connection, he was crowned king of France at Rheims in 1328.

King Philip VI of  France.

This was the sort of career opportunity that countless minor royals throughout European history could only wish for in their wildest dreams. But for Philip, the dream had become a reality.

‘Dear King Philip, you ascended the throne without having to lift a finger!

 In time, others felt this was a seat upon which you should not be allowed to linger!’

Philip’s reign would not be without its fair share of nightmares, the chief source of which was King Edward III of England.

The Hundred Years War.

Why did this conflict begin?

To begin with, the fifteen year old Edward had claimed that he was the rightful king of France when his uncle, Charles IV the king of France, died in 1328. Indeed, he had a point, as he was the late king’s closest living male relative.

So, our Eddie mark 3 is the prime candidate for the top job in France?

Well, not exactly! You see sexism rules!

What?

The French aristocracy decided against choosing Edward for the throne of France because he was related to the French royal family through his mother, Isabella, who was obviously a woman.

Queen Isabella.

Whereas, Philip drew his royal lineage from a male source, his grandfather king Philippe III.

King Philippe III of France.

‘Edward’s link to the throne of France is through his dearest mama!

But Philip’s claim is stronger, because it is through his dear old, grandpapa!’

Is this fair?

‘The barons chose Philip over Edward because they wanted a candidate coming from a male connection!

Why?

Because they felt that this offered the country stronger national protection!’

What was Edward’s response?

Edward was still a minor and under the control of his mother and Mortimer, so of course nothing came of it.

Edward III and Philip VI.

To begin with, the two monarchs appeared to get along quite well, and Edward paid homage to Philip for his duchy of Gascony which was part of Aquitaine. The profits from Gascony’s wine and other goods was the main source of Edward’s income, so the duchy was a very important jewel in the English crown.

But in May 1337, Philip announced that he was annexing the duchy. This was because Edward had agreed to shelter Philip’s former close adviser but now bitter enemy, Robert III of Artois. Edward had no intention of being deprived of his duchy and the wealth that it generated.

Oh, Scotland again!

King Philip had greatly annoyed Edward by granting the boy king of Scotland, David II the son of Robert Bruce, sanctuary in France in 1334.

David II being greeted by King Philip VI of France.

Philip was also giving strong and consistent aid to the Scots supporters of David who were rebelling against Edward’s ally, Edward Balliol, who also claimed to be the king of Scotland. This meant that Balliol was unable to maintain firm control of the country.

Edward claims to be the rightful king of France.

In October 1337 Edward III declared that he, not Philip VI, was the legitimate king of France. He based his claim on the fact that his mother had been the sister of the last king of France, Charles IV. The claim was quite absurd, because under French law, the crown could not be inherited through the female line of the family. Undeterred, Edward prepared to back his words with physical force.

 

 

‘I believe myself cast in the mould of my grandfather, the illustrious Edward I!

For military glory of his like, I have an unquenchable thirst!’

Edward III was committed to finishing the work that his grandfather, Edward I had begun in Scotland. Edward was resolved to ‘putting things right.’

Edward III makes a statement of his intentions!

‘I wanna give you Scots a real hammering, so as to follow in the footsteps of my dear grandpapa!’

A Scotsman replies:

‘Ye can up if ye like, but we will see to it that you’ll no get far!’

Edward resolves to right the wrongs of the past!

Edward III was a great admirer of his grandfather, Edward I, ‘Hammer of the Scots’. So it was fitting that he begin his career as a royal commander in Scotland where the first Edward had finished his.

‘Oh come! Watch me attend to some unfinished business!

Pray stand, and to these actions, please bear witness!’

The young king was also determined to avenge his own father’s shameful defeat at Bannockburn. There were also his own bitter memories of almost being captured by the Scots during Roger Mortimer’s pathetic military campaign in 1327. Edward had only escaped the Scots in the nick of time.

‘Because dodging Roger failed to keep his eye on the Scots, up to the royal tent they were allowed to creep!

I spied the Scots savages as they approached and from the back flap, I did, just in time, manage to leap!

Not to mention the shameful treaty that the despicable old hound, Mortimer had signed with Robert Bruce. He simply did not have the stomach for a war with the Scottish king. Mortimer ceased fighting and engaged Bruce in diplomacy. Their conversation might well have followed the following lines:

Mortimer:

‘I am now withdrawing and handing Scotland over to you, king Scot!

Robert Bruce:

I am much obliged, noble Roger, here’s to you, and thanks a lot!’

My goodness, thought Edward III, I have lot to put right. Damn Mortimer, damn him!

Roger Mortimer.

‘On this face, thankfully, I no longer have to gaze!

The memories of his nefarious meddling, I am duty bound to erase!’

Go north, young man!

So into the north, Edward went forth, to exorcise the legacy of his own father’s shortcomings and also the incompetence and treachery of the unspeakable Mortimer! The king had decided to support Edward Balliol in his bid for the Scottish Crown against the king, David II and to further this endeavour, he lay siege to Berwick in May 1333.

The Battle of Halidon Hill!

A real, mean, first kill!

A large Scots army commanded by Sir Archibald Douglas marched to relieve Berwick. Edward had positioned his army, which was an English force combined with Balliol’s Scots adherents at Halidon Hill, a few miles north of Berwick on July 19th. Edward took the high ground and waited for the larger army to advance. Indeed, the very sight of the large Scots army approaching caused consternation amongst the English defenders. The Scots were brimming with confidence and clearly certain of victory.

It was at this point that the young Edward showed his strength of character. He went amongst his men with words of encouragement and the promise of generous rewards:

‘Oh ye fine fighting men be of good cheer!

The antics of the Scots this day will cost them dear!’

True to his word, Edward exacted a heavy toll from the Scots. The king would command from the centre, whilst Balliol would direct the left flank. Edward had chosen his ground well as the Scots would soon found out. In order to attack the English positions, the Scots were forced to cross a marsh, which slowed them down considerably. Quite literally stuck in the mud, they were an easy, slow moving target for Edward’s archers.

It was here that the longbow came into its own, reaping a truly grim harvest. Once clear of  the marsh, the Scots had to climb Halidon Hill in order to engage the English. They were engulfed in a hailstorm of arrows as they made their ascent.

‘The Scots were cut down as surely as corn is cut by a man with a scythe!

The dead lay still, the wounded could only groan, wriggle and writhe!’

English casualties were minimal. Not so the Scots, they were slaughtered in their thousands. Bannockburn had been avenged.

‘Oh ye Scots, at Bannockburn in June 1314, the tide of conflict in your favour, did  indeed turn!

But here, this July day of 1333, at Halidon Hill, an important lesson did ye all learn!’

It was a victory stunning in its magnitude, but Scotland would, despite Edward’s efforts remain outside of his grasp. But on that particular summer’s evening in 1333, Edward, in the fullest flush of victorious fervour, felt that he had now established himself as a great warrior king in the tradition of his grandfather, Edward I.

 

With Mortimer now dead and his mother in comfortable but confined seclusion at Windsor, Edward, aged eighteen, was able to begin his reign. Edward was tall and possessed a strong physique, he had fine facial features and a head of long fair hair. He looked every inch the successful king that he aspired to be. Edward was courteous, affable in manner and charmed people with his broad easy smile.

King Edward III.

‘With Mortimer gone, all the bad deeds are now in the past!

So now, I am free! Yes free! God be praised, I am free at last!’

 As the feast of Christmas, 1330 approached, King Edward must have looked back on the last four years with somewhat mixed feelings.

‘Well, this will be the first merry Christmas I will have had in years! For the last few Christmases I have had to suffer the spectacle of that dirty old hound, Mortimer, gnawing at his meat and guzzling back wine as he sat with my mother at top table.

God! The news of my father’s death hit me hard. True, he was not up to the job of kingship, but to have him done to death by a band of ruffians in a dingy cell at Berkeley castle was simply wrong. Not that dog face Mortimer was any great shakes in the statesman stakes either! Look at how he got a drubbing from king of the Jocks, Robert Bruce. He goes charging into Scotland claiming that he will soon be serving up Bruce’s head on a platter, and then ends up saluting the Celt savage as king of Scots.

Thank goodness I stopped Mortimer’s gallop that night in Notts castle! We grabbed him and were lassoing him down, when I could hear my men roaring their heads off with laughter on the other side of the curtain! They had found that old codger, Bishop Burghersh wriggling half way down the toilet shaft. The old fool panicked at the sight of us piling in and tried to escape down the toilet. Anyway, we got him out and packed him off back to Lincoln Cathedral!’

One happy memory for Edward would have been his marriage to Philippa of Hainault in 1328. Although a marriage arranged for political purposes, it would prove to be one that provided mutual happiness.

Queen Philippa, wife of Edward III.

Edward decided to make a very public declaration that a clean break was being made with the past. A proclamation was issued and recited aloud in public places throughout the realm. It acknowledged that the country had endured years of bad government, but that Edward would:

‘henceforth govern his people according to right and reason, as befits his royal dignity.’

The young king was soon true to his word. He handed back estates that had been seized by Edward II and the incorrigible Despensers to their rightful owners, and elevated talented men to the ranks of  the aristocracy.

Scotland.

Edward was still seething over Mortimer’s disastrous campaign in Scotland and the grossly unsatisfactory treaty agreed between the two countries.  An opportunity to correct the situation arose when Robert Bruce died in 1329, leaving his five year old son, David as his heir.

‘King Robert Bruce is dead, leaving wee prince Davy as his heir, as his heir!

There is trouble afoot! Please be aware! Of ambitious men, please beware! Please beware!

Such a development occurring in those days was a guarantee for instability, as others would view it as a situation ripe for exploitation. Edward Balliol the son of the late king, John, decided to mount a challenge to the infant king David.

Balliol asked Edward for support, but the king declined to assist him in what appeared to be a doomed bid for the crown of Scotland. However, Balliol’s army against all odds, defeated a much larger force loyal to King David at the Battle of Duppin Moor in August 1332. Flushed with victory, Balliol had himself crowned King of Scots. Although Balliol was later expelled from Scotland, Edward now decided to back his claim for the Scottish throne.

Edward realised that if he were to be a successful king like his grandfather, Edward I, he would have to prove himself as a military commander. The chance to do so now presented itself in Scotland in the spring of 1333.

 

The fourteen year old Prince Edward, Edward of Windsor as he was known, had been crowned king in February 1327 at Westminster. Of course, the real power lay with his mother Queen Isabella’s paramour, Roger Mortimer. However, he used his power to ill-effect. Mortimer’s first major gaffe was a poorly executed invasion of Scotland, ending in a humiliating treaty signed in 1328 which acknowledged Robert Bruce as king of Scotland. The seventeen year old Edward III was opposed to the agreement, but was in no position to defy Mortimer.

‘Whilst honest men went forth toiling!

This dirty dog Mortimer, spent his time upon the heads of other men soiling!

Although to the nation he presented himself as honest and straight, he was himself really quite bent!

Not content with having killed one son of Edward I, he decided to kill another, Edmund of Kent!

Mortimer, now ensconced as regent, developed into the classic model of an overmighty subject. In 1328, he assumed the title Earl of March and enjoyed a life of almost obscene luxury and ostentation. Terrified of being himself removed from power, Mortimer eliminated anyone he saw as a rival. One was the king’s uncle, the Earl of Kent, a son of Edward I. Mortimer managed to entrap the rather dim Earl in a plot, and as a result he was executed. The king was powerless to help his unfortunate uncle.

Edmund, Earl of Kent.

Relations between Mortimer and the young king began to deteriorate very sharply. Mortimer, his paranoia now in overdrive, deployed a multitude of spies to keep their eyes on Edward and watch his every move. Not to be outdone, Edward quietly gathered a group of loyalists around him and patiently bided his time. The king chose his allies carefully and one, Sir William Montague proved to be particularly useful.

William Montague

Edward topples Mortimer and Queen Isabella.

In October 1330, Mortimer, the Queen and Edward were in residence at Nottingham castle for the parliament which had been convened there. It was at this point that Edward saw his opportunity to oust Mortimer.

Suspicious of Edward’s intentions, Mortimer had made sure  that every entrance to the castle was secure and guarded. However, Edward had made a secret arrangement with the constable of the castle to leave one entrance unlocked. Once inside, the king and Montague with a body of men, followed a tunnel which led straight to Mortimer and Isabella’s quarters and burst in taking both of them by complete surprise. There was a moment of high mirth when the Bishop of Lincoln, who was present, tried to escape down the toilet chute but became stuck and had to be helped out.

‘Edward seized  Mortimer at the dead of night!

He was captured in the bed chamber after a brief fight!

Queen Isabella cried, dear son, mercy for sweet Mortimer I do crave!

But Edward would give none, he had a noose put around the neck of the murderous knave!’

Mortimer was swiftly transported to the Tower of London from which he had so dramatically escaped in 1323. There was to be no escape on this occasion. On November 29th he was dragged to Tyburn and hanged as a common criminal. Mortimer was granted one mercy in that, probably in deference to the wishes of the Queen, he was allowed to hang until he expired.

Edward, aged eighteen was now king of England in his own right.

 

 

King Edward was expecting an invasion and sent his ships out to sea in order to intercept Isabella’s convoy. But Isabella and Mortimer managed to avoid any of Edward’s ships, and landed in Suffolk on September 24th 1326.

On the face of it, Isabella’s chances of unseating an incumbent king with her small force appeared rather remote. However, her arrival galvanized the people who had been unhappy with the regime, and who harboured great resentment towards the Despensers. Instead of resistance, Isabella received a warm welcome and offers of assistance from many quarters.

Queen Isabella disembarks at Orwell in Suffolk in September 1326.

Isabella proceeded westwards towards London where Edward was residing. The king, astonished at the collapse of his support, fled to the west country. In an empty gesture of defiance, Edward placed a bounty of £1,000 on Mortimer’s head.

‘You put a bounty on my beloved Roger’s head so as to cause me trouble!

I will place a price on wretched Despenser’s head, a sum which amounts to double!’

Isabella responded by offering £2,000 for the head of  Hugh Despenser.

The city of London was a crucial area for either side in what looked like becoming a civil war. To whom would the Londoners give their allegiance? This question was answered in a most graphic manner on October 15th 1326 by the treatment the citizens of London meted out to Bishop Stapledon, whom Edward had appointed ‘protector’ of London after his cowardly flight from the city. When the unfortunate prelate attempted to assert his authority over the city, he was dragged from his horse and savagely put to death.

Edward may well have ruefully remarked:

‘Isabella has London in the bag! In the bag!

Oh, what a drag! Oh what an infernal drag!

And all of the time, my support continues to sag! Sag! Continues to sag!’

Edward and the Despensers were on the run, and running very scared. King Edward, sovereign of the realm, was a fugitive within its borders, hunted as a common felon.  No king had ever known such ignominy. Hugh Despenser the elder was captured at Bristol, and after a swift trial was executed on October 26th. At this point King Edward II was deposed and his son, was proclaimed guardian of the realm.

Unfinished business.

The odyssey of King Edward and Hugh the younger was coming to an ignominious close. On November 16th the two fugitives were apprehended at Liantrisant in Wales. Edward because he was king, was accorded good treatment but not so his favourite, Hugh the younger. He was subjected to every possible indignity as he was transported east to Hereford. Bound to a horse, citizens jeered at him as he passed and some scrawled biblical quotes on to his body. Knowing the penalty awaiting him, Hugh refused all sustenance in the hope that he would die of starvation before being hanged, drawn and quartered. But luck was not with him, and after a brief trial at Hereford, he suffered the sentence prescribed for traitors.

‘Your crimes were so wicked and foul!

For this you will watch while we burn your bowel!

And onto the flaming fire!

Your blood soaked innards will make a fitting funeral pyre!’

Hugh was drawn feet first by four horses to the walls of his own castle where a gallows of immense height awaited him. Sometimes the condemned would be allowed to hang until dead, thus sparing him the agonies of emasculation. But spared he was not, Hugh suffered the full penalty of the law with all of the accompanying barbarities.

The execution of Hugh Despenser.

What would King Edward have said?

‘Oh farewell, fair Hugh!

We now bid each other adieu!

You were not of the mediocre many, but one of the finest few!

In my heart of hearts there will always be a special place for you!’

In January 1327 the king, languishing at Kenilworth castle consumed with grief and humiliation, was forced to formally abdicate in favour of his son. Bemoaning his fate, he would constantly and loudly cry out in anguish, hammering the walls of his chamber with his fists before collapsing to the floor in tears.

Parliament promised Edward a comfortable, but severely restricted retirement: the life of a pampered prisoner appeared to await him. Tearfully, he sullenly prepared himself for his luxurious confinement in a yet to be disclosed location. Edward must have harboured hopes that his son Ted, now king, would eventually see fit to alleviate his circumstances once he had reached manhood.

‘To you my dear son, young Teddy!

Of course as king, you know that I proved to be persistently unready!

Oh what matter now, I would humbly request, nay beg, to take a place at your side!

So through England’s green meadows as father and son we could, once again ride!’

However this was not to be.

Popularity is of course a fickle phenomenon and can disappear as swiftly as the morning dew. This was the experience of Isabella and Mortimer, whose star began to fade as the dust  settled and people steadily became familiar with their true colours. Soon plots were hatched to free the deposed king and restore him to the throne. Naturally, Mortimer viewed this as a problem and one that had to be eliminated with immediate effect.

Edward was transported to a variety of abodes, but was eventually deposited at Berkeley castle and here he would endure the rigours of his last days.

‘The throne of England was one hell of a hot seat!

Although being king was an experience that was hard to beat!

But the heat that Edward was now unmercifully made to bear!

Well t’was a foul act, totally unnecessary and grossly unfair!’

So now the final curtain.

Edward breathed his last one day in late September, 1327. He was almost certainly murdered on the orders of Roger Mortimer.  It has been alleged that he was killed by having a red hot poker plunged into his rectum which burnt his internal organs to a crisp. In this way no tell tale signs of violence were left on his body. King Edward II was buried by the High Altar in Gloucester Cathedral.

King Edward II

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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