The Perfect King (66 page)

This apparent rehabilitation is made understandable by two facts. First, Edward really had no need to punish her in
1330
as Mortimer had been the one who had posed the threat to his regnal authority, not Isabella. Edward also blamed Mortimer for creating the in
ternational dilemma of Edward II’
s secret survival. If Isabella had participated in not having her husband murdered, Edward could hardly blame her for that. The second underlying fact is that Edward and Isabella had a lot in common, much more than just being mother and son. Edward's interest in alchemy has already been noted; Isabella was also interested in the subject, and made several attempts to obtain the elixir of life which would preserve her once-famous good looks.
43
They both had an interest in spirituality and chivalric literature, as shown by the volumes left by Isabella at her death, which included sev
eral religious and Arthurian titl
es. Like most aristocrats, they were both keen on music: Edward himself kept between five and nine minstrels, and Isabella rewarded liberally the minstrels of all the lords who came to visit her. They were both obsessed even more than their contemporaries with jewels and bejewelled things. In
1357-58
Isabella spent no less than
£1,400
on jewellery. The account of her jewels at her death reveals her to have owned many religious pieces - crucifixes, cameos, amulets and rosaries - but also hundreds of non-religious decorative items, such as gold rings with precious stones. One item in particular was described as 'a large brooch containing a thousand pearls'. Edward's and Isabella's similar awareness of the importance of their appearance is highlighted by Isabella maintaining a bathroom, like Edward, and using make-up. Most important of all they knew they were different to other people, for they were royal, and they shared a consciousness of what that royalty meant. It meant divine healing powers, political responsibilities from which one could not run, and (at the extreme) the requirement to put one's life at risk for the kingdom's benefit. To share in such a fundamental and yet minority identity was a powerful bonding force. In any reckoning of the women in Edward's life, Isabella has to loom very large indeed. Thus we may be sure that now Edward was deeply affected by his mother's death.

Edward remained close to his mother to the very end. The pages of her household account book for the last year of her life show that Edward himself came to dinner with her four times between October
1357
and May
1358.
He also sent presents regularly: casks of Gascon wine, a falcon, two caged birds and a wild boar. Her grandchildren came to see her: the prince of Wales came with Edward on
26
October
1357,
and by himself on
6
April, and with the duke of Lancaster on
19
April. Lionel came to see his grandmother on
2
March
1358,
John of Gaunt on
1
February, and Isabella of Woodstock visited with her father and the earl of March on
29
April. All this amounts to more than mere duty: one feels there was a great deal of goodwill towards the old lady.

That Queen Isabella remained sane - contrary to the old myth - is amply demonstrated by her appointment to negotiate with France in
1348,
her regular pilgrimages to Canterbury and Walsingham, her involvement in the negotiations regarding Charles of Navarre in
1358,
her participation in negotiations regarding the peace with France the same year, repeated visits from important individuals, and her travels to Windsor for the great tournament of
1358.
Her social life had greatl
y benefited from the victory of Poitiers, for the prince brought so many members of the French royal family to England as prisoners that she was able to catch up with many of her cousins. But for the last year of her life she had not been a well woman. On
12
March
1358
she had given her surgeon a gift of forty shillings. Four weeks earlier a messenger had been sent to London on three occasions to fetch medicines for the queen and to hire a horse to bring her physician, Master Lawrence. At the same time medicines were sought in St Albans. Edward probably knew when he visited her on
20
March that she was dying. By then he would also have known that his sister, Queen Joan of
Scotland
, was on her way south for the great tournament at Windsor. So close was the family that, even though she had not seen her mother for thirty years, Queen Joan nursed her until her death. In these circumstances, it is remarkable that Isabella attended the Windsor tournament. Obviously the occasion was so great, and so important to Edward, that she did not want to miss it. Perhaps having finally seen her son's kingship reach its zenith, she was content. In August, during another bout of ill-health at Hertford
Castle
, more medicines were sought. On
20
August she summoned Master Lawrence from Canterbury to come with the utmost speed, but before he arrived, she was dead. She had chosen to have a very powerful draft of medicine administered, in a large quantity. So died Edward's pious, aged, once-beautiful and extraordinary mother, Queen Isabella the Fair, on
22
August
1358.

Edward cannot have been wholly surprised by the news of her deat
h but he was nevertheless greatl
y saddened. Her servants each received a large reward from him. He arranged the watching of her corpse at Hertford, and its transfer to the church of the Franciscans in London. He had the streets cleaned in readiness for the arrival of her corpse at the church. Her wish that she should
be buried in 'the tunic and mantl
e of red silk and lined with grey cindon in which she had been married', fifty years earlier, was respected, and the garment was taken from the wardrobe where it had been lovingly preserved all those years. She was buried on
27
November in the presence of Edward, Philippa and the whole royal family. It was the church where her lover's body had briefly lain twenty-eight years earlier, after his execution. In February
1359
Edward commissioned a fine tomb to be constructed for her, with an alabaster effigy, surrounded by metal railings made by the royal smith at the Tower. In later years, on the anniversary of her death, he went to very great lengths to commemorate her. Every year he paid for three hundred wax torches to burn around her tomb, and for clothes for thirty paupers to bear these torches; for five pounds of spices to be burnt by the men staying at her tomb, and for Parisian towels to wrap around the spices while they were awaiting burning. He ordered three cloths of gold to be placed on the tomb on the eve and on the anniversary of her death every year, and on each occasion alms were given to the Franciscans, Augustinians and Carmelites, and to anchorite recluses in London, and to the prisoners in Newgate gaol, and to 'two poor sisters imploring God' for the benefit of the queen's soul.
Finally, the heart of Edward II was placed in Isabella's tomb, on her breast.
In terms of ceremony, Isabella's death meant more to Edward than anyone else's to date, even that of his much-loved daughter, Joan.

The first
£100,000
instalment of King John's ransom was due on
1
November
1359.
At the time of sealing the First Treaty of London, Edward had stipulated that every single clause had to be fully accepted and complied with, otherwise he would regard the treaty as being broken.
But over the summer the dauphin's government had been brought to the very brink of collapse. First Charles of Navarre had made it clear he was planning to seize the throne. James Pipe's army of marauders had left the villages of the Seine valley in ruins, their men dead, women raped and fields empty of all but t
he scattered bones of their cattl
e. Then things had turned utterly horrific. The dauphin himself had faced a revolution in which his ministers were murdered in front of him and he himself was forced to swear allegiance to the mob. The revolution spread into a widespread peasant uprising, the Jacquerie, with terrible destruction and loss of life and property. Even when i
t was brought under control (by
Charles of Navarre, ironically), the tension remained between the Navarrese supporters and the dauphin. The Parisians refused to accept the dauphin back, and prompted a siege of the city which lasted throughout July. The ransom was thus a relatively minor inconvenience in comparison to the complete breakdown of law and order that summer.

Edward was not inclined to sympathise with the dauphin's plight. What was it to him, if his enemy proved incapable of good government? He had set the ransom; now he wanted it paid, and he refused to reopen negotiations on the matter. His mood was not improved by the funeral of his beloved
mother. We will never know exactl
y how loss or grief may have affected his judgement, but it is reasonable to suppose that his mind was not wholly focused on the French problem in November
1358.
The only real pressure for compromise came from King John. Despairing of events back in his kingdom, he now offered Edward whatever he wanted in return for peace.

In January
1359
the anger within Edward, mixed perhaps with frustration and grief began to rise again at a determined French refusal to pay. But King John still implored him to show restraint. John was his prisoner, but he was also Edward's kinsman and his guest. Edward also liked the man. He gave him presents of barrels of fine wine, lodged him in the Savoy Palace - a residence he himself h
ad once used and which he subsquentl
y had given to the duke of Lancaster - and after the ratification of the First Treaty of London he had invited him to go hunting with him at Windsor. Although Edward gave orders on
2
January to gather bows and arrows at the Tower in readiness for a campaign, and ordered an army of archers and Welsh spearmen to be made ready, he still listened to John. John asked him to discuss terms with him, face to face, excluding all the counsellors and diplomats. Edward assented, knowing an army was on the way. But John said the right things, made the right offer, and on
24
March
1359
the Second Treaty of London was agreed between the two kings. John added Normandy, Brittany, Maine, Touraine and Anjou to the territories already ceded to Edward. This amounted to the entire Angevin Empire at its very height - under Henry II - and thus the greatest extent of the English royal family's lordship. In recognition of this generous provision by John, Edward reduced the ransom due to
£500,000
and threw in all the other French prisoners, including the other members of the royal family, for free. The first instalment of
£100,000
was rescheduled to
1
August
1359.
Edward would then release John in return for the security of ten French noblemen and twenty walled towns.

It was an agreement which gave Edward everything he had ever hoped to achieve and more, and he had reason to feel satisfied. He ordered one of the French prisoners, Marshal Audrehem, to take the agreement to Paris for ratification by the dauphin. Then, humoured again by the prospect of a permanent settlement which was very much to his advantage, he turned his attention to family celebrations.

Although now in his forty-eighth year, only one of his children was married, and he had only one legitimate grandchild. This was Philippa, daughter of Lionel and his wife Elizabeth de Burgh, who had been born at Eltham in August
1355.
He also had an illegitimate grandson, Roger, who had been born to Edith Willesford, one of the women at Clarendon, after the prince of Wales had taken a fancy to her, but even so, the paucity of descendants was noticeable. The only step he had so far taken to remedy this was the betrothal the previous year of
little
Philippa to the six-year-old heir of the earl of March, and obviously it would be many years before that match produced offspring. So to make up for lost time he now held a double wedding. On
19
May
1359
(the very day that the Estates General met in Paris to discuss the treaty) Edward's thirteen-year-old daughter Margaret was married at Reading Abbey to the twelve-year-old earl of Pembroke. The following day, in the same church, John of Gaunt (now eighteen) married Blanche, the thirteen-year-old daughter of the duke of Lancaster. All the royal
family were there, and many costl
y gifts of jewellery and goblets were given. Edward himself gave extremely lavish presents to Blanche totalling nearly
£400
in value, including 'a large brooch with an eagle and a huge diamond in its breast, garnished with rubies, diamonds and pearls' which alone was valued at
£120
"
Ten days later, at Smithfield, Edward and his four eldest sons dressed up as the mayor and aldermen of London along with nineteen other knights in a great three-day tournament, at which they took on all challengers. Edward was revelling in his victory and the celebration of his family. At times like these, life was one long glorious chivalric parade.