The Greatest Traitor: The Life of Sir Roger Mortimer, 1st Earl of March (49 page)

This leaves us with just two options: that the letter was fraudulently compiled by Fieschi on behalf of his countrymen for political purposes from received information, and that it contains no information derived from Edward II himself, or that it is a genuine account of the latter days of the later life of Edward II. On account of the details of Edward’s arrest, and in particular the detail about Chepstow, the former can be discounted. Since the continued existence of the king was still such a secret in 1335–43 that no chronicler in England mentioned it, we can discount the theory that Genoa could have used this information against England with any force if it was not predominantly true. If Edward II really was in Italy at the time the letter was written, however, this would make the letter very powerful material for the Genoese.

Working on the theory that the letter is a genuine statement by Fieschi that Edward found his way to Lombardy, we can build a historical model of events. The letter must date from between 1335 and 1343, as noted above. The last dated document in the register is 1337, so it is likely that the document was written at the beginning of this period rather than towards the end. Furthermore, given the systematic accounting for periods of time in the letter (albeit with one mistake noted above), it is probable that only time spent travelling has not been accounted for, and thus the letter was written in the 1335–7 period. Since Fieschi does not express any context for the letter, and in particular does not express any hesitation over the identification of the hermit, it seems the context was to be provided by the bearer of the letter, who thus must have been someone trusted, and of high status.
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Looking through published calendars of records, the date of 4 July 1336 stands out as the prime candidate for the model. On that day Edward III wrote to the community of Genoa granting it 8,000 marks (£5,333) in compensation for an act of piracy by Hugh Despenser in 1321, although he (Edward) denied any responsibility for the deed.
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It is quite
extraordinary that, after fifteen years, this money was granted, especially as the Genoese had previously sought compensation and been turned down.
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The possibility that Edward paid up such a large sum in the summer of 1336 partly on the strength of the letter from Manuele de Fieschi is suggested by the fact that the new envoy who made the claim was noted to have brought certain letters with him from Genoa. The new envoy’s name was Nicholinus de Fieschi, a kinsman of Manuele.
⁴⁴

If we take as the basis of our model the late spring/early summer of 1336 for the receipt of the letter, certain other details fall into place. Lord Berkeley was completely acquitted of all charges against him in the next parliament following the Genoese embassy, on 16 March 1337. Two days later, at the same parliament, William de Shalford was rewarded, despite his part in writing the letter to Roger which was later sent to Berkeley Castle. Maltravers was employed in the king’s service in Flanders in 1339, as mentioned above, effectively being exonerated of any crime deserving of outlawry by then. Isabella’s income was considerably increased in 1337; from that date she received half as much again as she had previously.
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One might suggest that the Genoese envoy announced at the English court that his kinsmen had custody of the ex-king in such a way that Edward had no choice but to drop all actions against those he had held responsible for the Berkeley Castle plot. No one else was pardoned for charges against them, with the possible exception of Joan, Roger’s widow;
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but this is what one would have expected as Gurney was dead and de Ockley, if he was still alive, was not sufficiently well-connected to the English court to be let in on the news from Genoa.

A final reason for favouring a date of about 1336 for the receipt of the letter is that Edward III seems to have been aware that his father was under Lombard protection prior to October 1338. Although both Cuttino and Haines noted the source for this, neither scholar realised its significance.
⁴⁷
In September 1338 Edward went to Germany to be made Vicar of the Holy Roman Empire.
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At Koblenz, one William le Galeys – William the Welshman – was brought to him from Cologne by an Italian, Francisco Forcet.
⁴⁹
This William claimed he was Edward II. The records state he had been ‘arrested’ at Cologne. But the ‘arrest’ was patently a fiction, as he was brought to the king not by a local arresting officer or an officer of the English court but by an Italian, a Lombard, and he was brought to Koblenz – a distance of fifty-seven miles – at a cost of 25s 6d, and afterwards accompanied the royal party to Antwerp,
⁵⁰
where he stayed for three weeks in December. This was just after Queen Philippa had given birth to Edward III’s second son, Lionel, on 29 November.

This information has been dismissed as evidence for Edward II’s itinerary
by several historians, but on very flimsy grounds, their scepticism normally rooted in a conviction that Edward II died in Berkeley Castle. Pierre Chaplais, who first discovered the entries, suggested William the Welshman’s claim was an early form of ‘demonstration during a royal visit’. This is not supportable, due to the preferred treatment of the supposed criminal. Royal imposters were normally punished severely; Edward II had once hanged a half-witted Exeter man who had claimed to be a son of Edward I. Not only was this William the Welshman not locked up locally in Cologne as a petty criminal and an imposter, he was not locked up at all. He was escorted first to the king at Koblenz and then to Antwerp. In the royal accounts which mention him, there are no pejorative references to his royal claim, such as that he ‘traitorously’ or ‘falsely’ claimed he was father of the King of England. The bottom line is that if Edward III had believed in 1338 his father had died in Berkeley in 1327, or subsequently, he would not have paid for an imposter to be brought fifty-seven miles to him at Koblenz, and then entertained him, and taken him back to Antwerp. He would have ordered him to be hanged in Cologne.
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The point about the Lombard escort, Francisco, or Francekino, Forcet, requires further comment, for it raises the possibility that William the Welshman was escorted to Edward III from Lombardy, the region in which Manuele de Fieschi claimed Edward was living. Indeed, the fact that Edward II was not free but in custody at this period is the key to understanding the Fieschi document. Just as the letter itself was written for political purposes, so Edward II was carefully guarded for political reasons. Once his identity was known in Lombardy, he was protected, but at a cost to his freedom. He did not ‘change himself’ from Melazzo to Cecima because he was frightened off by the war; far from it, the lord of Melazzo (the Bishop of Acqui) knew Edward’s political value, and moved him to the hermitage near Cecima to safeguard Genoan political interests. Thus, for probably the four and a half years prior to Manuele de Fieschi’s writing the letter to Edward III, the Lombard higher clergy had had custody of Edward II. Nicholinus de Fieschi himself was a cardinal, and Francisco Forcet was probably one of his or his kinsmen’s retainers. When William the Welshman appeared with Francisco Forcet before Edward III at Koblenz in September 1338, Nicholinus de Fieschi was also present. Furthermore Nicholinus de Fieschi returned to Antwerp with the king and William the Welshman (still in the custody of Francisco Forcet) afterwards, staying there until January 1339.
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In conclusion: in late 1338 a man who claimed with impunity to be the king’s father was brought to the king at Koblenz by a Lombard, and was
there in the company of a member of the same political Genoese family which had previously written a letter to Edward III concerning their custody of the ex-king in a Lombardy monastery. Given that we now know Edward II did not die in Berkeley Castle in 1327, and given that the man in question was not summarily dismissed but entertained at Koblenz and at Antwerp, there can be very little doubt that this William the Welshman was Edward II. Although questions must still remain about the accuracy of Manuele de Fieschi’s letter, which was written with specific political purposes in mind, and which was at best a copy of the ex-king’s verbal testimony recalled several years after his escape, there is no good reason to doubt that Edward II was still alive in 1338, and that the Fieschi letter broadly outlines the facts as Edward II understood them.

*

Finally, after 675 years, we can confront a much more coherent and historically useful narrative of the later life of Edward II. On Roger’s orders, Maltravers or Berkeley directed the ex-king’s gaoler to effect an artificial ‘escape’ from Berkeley Castle. The gaoler brought Edward II to Corfe Castle, where he maintained him under the auspices of one ‘Thomas’, who was probably John Deveril using an assumed name. There, believing he was now on the run, Edward was effectively still a captive. No one tried to free him, as everyone thought him dead. And there Maltravers kept him on Roger’s behalf, until Kent learnt of his whereabouts, possibly receiving this information from Edward III. When Roger realised that Kent was on the point of freeing Edward II, he was able to convince the king to order Kent’s execution. Edward III did it in order to save his throne, his mother’s life, and possibly even his own life.

After the discovery of the Earl of Kent’s plot it was too dangerous to keep the deposed king in England, and so Maltravers ordered the ex-king’s gaoler to take him to Ireland, where Roger had influence and the young king had few close friends. Edward II himself still believed he was on the run. But Roger could not afford to lose control of his secret prisoner. Edward III was constantly growing in age and authority. Edward II stayed in custody in Ireland for nine months. Then Roger was arrested, Maltravers fled from England, and Edward’s gaoler probably decided it was wise to disappear too. Edward II now found himself truly free, but only as long as no one recognised him. If his son knew he was alive, he would be locked up again. Hence he went to the Continent, dressed as a pilgrim, to see the one person who could advise him: the Pope. John XXII convinced him to give up all thoughts of becoming king again, and may have helped him find his spiritual path.

It is just possible that Edward III heard a reliable report about his father, for in the spring of 1331 he and fifteen of his knights dressed as merchants and went ‘as if on pilgrimage’ in France at the same time as Edward II was probably crossing that country dressed as a pilgrim. The usual explanation for this mission is that Edward III wanted to keep his performance of homage to King Philip quiet; and indeed Edward did perform homage at this time. But it is not beyond possibility that he hoped to find his father as well. If so, he failed. The next he would have known about his father’s fate was possibly the information of Gurney; it was for his information, not his head, that Edward wanted him brought back to England alive. After that the next news about his father’s fate was the testimony of John Maltravers, in March 1334. Then came the letter from Manuele de Fieschi, probably brought by Nicholinus de Fieschi in 1336. Edward III paid Nicholinus 8,000 marks, and, later, asked him to bring Edward II to meet him in Cologne. Edward III then summoned his father to Koblenz to see him crowned Vicar of the Holy Roman Empire, and took him to Antwerp, albeit in disguise and under guard, to see his grandson there. After this Edward II disappears from the sources. He may have died in 1341, when Nicholinus de Fieschi was paid the sum of one mark per day, being sent by Edward ‘to divers parts beyond the sea on certain affairs’.
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Edward visited his father’s tomb on his pilgrimage to Gloucester Abbey two years later.
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In subsequent years no one did more to perpetuate the myth of Edward II’s death in Berkeley Castle than Ranulph Higden, the monk of Chester who wrote the
Polychronicon
, in which he explicitly repeated the story of the red-hot spit. This chapter cannot end without noting that, in 1352, when Edward III finally forgave John Maltravers for his part in the death of the Earl of Kent, he summoned Higden to an audience at Westminster ‘to have certain things explained to him’.
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The monk was to bring all his histories and parchments with him. We do not know what was said during that audience, but it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Edward told Higden that the murder was an untruth, and that the encyclopaedic
Polychronicon
was wrong. All we know is that, there and then, Higden’s life work came to an abrupt end. He never wrote another word.

As for the tomb in Gloucester, this was opened for a brief moment on 2 October 1855. The wooden coffin was found and a part of it removed. The lead coffin inside was seen but not opened.
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From the evidence of Nicholinus de Fieschi’s continued secret work and Edward III’s pilgrimages to Gloucester in 1343 one can be relatively confident that Edward II’s remains do indeed lie inside, but that they were placed there not in December 1327 but some time after January 1339, probably in 1341. It is
one of the wonders of British history that beneath that spectacular tomb lies the body of a man who was both a king and a penniless hermit, who lost his wife, his kingdom and everything he possessed to his childhood companion, Sir Roger Mortimer.

Everything except his life.

Afterword

And seeing there was no place to mount up higher
,