Photos of the Marches (4)

Lower Brockhampton

Lower Brockhampton, just outside Bromyard in Herefordshire and about a dozen miles from Worcester, is a moated manor house built sometime between 1380 and 1400, in Richard II's reign, by the Domulton family. It stands in an estate of about 1700 acres, a hilly, wooded and incredibly pretty area.

The funny little building on the left is the gatehouse, which dates to about 1530.

Lower Brockhampton looks almost too perfect to be real (but is! ;) The information leaflet says "the building is a south-facing two-bay open hall with a large contemporary east wing. It has been suggested that there was a similar wing on the west side of the hall..." The Great Hall (you're not allowed to take photos inside, unfortunately) dates from the late fourteenth century, with some sixteenth- and seventeenth-century additions, for example the fireplace, chimney, the two bedrooms which are accessed from the Minstrels' Gallery, and the staircase leading to them - originally the upper chamber above the Hall was an undivided area and was reached by an external staircase.

Around 1765, the Barneby family, who had inherited Brockhampton, moved to another house on the estate:

The chapel behind the medieval manor house, which was built around 1180 - Brockhampton is first mentioned in 1166, and presumably an earlier house stood on the site - was abandoned and used as a barn.

More pictures of Lower Brockhampton and its estate:

Oddities in the Narrative of Edward II's Death

In this post, I'm looking at some odd and inconsistent facts and events that don't fit into the traditional narrative that Edward II was murdered at Berkeley Castle in September 1327.

The Fieschi Letter

Probably the best-known, and most-discussed, oddity. The letter deserves a blog post to itself, and will get one soon, but briefly: in 1868, a copy of a letter written sometime in the late 1330s was discovered in an archive in France. It was written by Manuele Fieschi, papal notary, Canon of York and Nottingham, and Bishop of Vercelli from 1342. Although Manuele was himself not related to Edward II, some of his Fieschi cousins were also distant cousins of Edward. The letter was addressed to Edward III; as the letter is a copy and the original has never been found, we can't say for certain that Edward received the letter, though there's no reason to assume that he didn't.

Fieschi writes that Edward II escaped from Berkeley Castle in the autumn of 1327 (though he doesn't mention the Dunheved gang), and made his way to Corfe Castle in Dorset, where he spent some time. Afterwards he made his way to Ireland, and after Roger Mortimer's downfall to France, where he travelled to Avignon dressed as a pilgrim. He spent two weeks with Pope John XII, then made his way to Brabant, Cologne and ultimately Italy. How genuine the letter might be is a matter of fierce debate, as is the argument about why Fieschi might have decided to invent such a story...assuming he did...

Melton's Letter

Fairly recently, in Warwickshire County Record Office, an extraordinary letter has been discovered. It was written by William Melton, Archbishop of York from 1317 to 1340, is addressed to a London merchant called Simon Swanland, and dates either to January 1329 or January 1330, most likely the latter. In it, Melton asks Swanland to co-operate with William Clif in aiding the 'old king' when he is released, and writes about the delivery of clothes and money to Edward after his release...This is long after Edward II's death was announced, of course.

Melton was a friend and long-term ally of Edward II, having entered his household by 1297 when Edward was only thirteen, and was one of the few men who stood up for him at the Parliament of January 1327 which decided on his deposition. He refused to attend the coronation of Edward III, but was soon reconciled to the young king, and performed the wedding ceremony of Edward and Philippa of Hainault the following January. In 1330, Melton was indicted for treason, for his role in the Earl of Kent's conspiracy to free Edward II. Surprisingly, perhaps, he was acquitted. For the rest of his life, he served Edward III faithfully; the young king reinstated him as Treasurer of England within days of Roger Mortimer's execution. Melton enjoyed an excellent reputation in his own lifetime, and is also highly thought of by modern historians.

The big question is: why did Melton believe Edward II to still be alive?? As a loyal, steadfast friend of Edward (Melton's ODNB entry says he had a "genuine and lasting affection" for the king) Melton would have been an obvious choice for Edward to turn to, and in a good position to know if Edward was still alive. Melton evidently had, or believed that he had, convincing proof that Edward was not dead, long after his death had been announced. Fascinating.

Kent's Conspiracy

Edmund of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, Edward II's half-brother, was executed -or rather, judicially murdered - in March 1330 after a long-term campaign to free Edward II, whom he believed to be alive and well at Corfe Castle. Again, this complex situation will get a blog post or several to itself, but briefly:

Kent, convinced that his brother was alive and being held in Corfe Castle, wrote a letter to Edward (II), saying "I shall ordain for you, that you shall come out of prison...Your lordship should know that I have the assent of almost all the great lords of England...in order to maintain and help you in your quarrel so you shall be king again as you were before."

Kent gave the letter to Sir John Deveril, a member of the garrison at Corfe - often stated to be the Constable of the castle, though there's no record of his appointment - who promptly sent it to Roger Mortimer. Mortimer read it out to Parliament, where Kent was being indicted for treason for the hideous crime of trying to rescue his brother. Kent was told "you were on the point of rescuing that worshipful knight Sir Edward, sometime king of England, your brother, and to help him become king again, and to govern his people as he was wont to do beforehand..."

At the very least, this suggests that Kent did not see his brother's face closely before his burial in December 1327. I would also assume that he asked others whom he trusted - his brother Norfolk, his cousin Lancaster, for example - if they had seen Edward's face and positively identified him. It would be decidedly odd if Kent gazed on his brother's dead face and still became convinced that he was alive.

It's interesting to note that the parliamentary record (as it appears in the Brut chronicle - the record itself has disappeared, probably not coincidentally) does not state anywhere that Edward II was actually dead. Kent was beheaded in Winchester on 19 March 1330. Around fifty men implicated in his plot were ordered to be arrested. Most fled the country, and the others were imprisoned. One of the men was Sir John Pecche, who, according to the Patent and Fine Rolls, really was the Constable of Corfe Castle from December 1325 to late 1329. Pecche was therefore in the best position to know whether Edward II was held at Corfe or not; Corfe was under his command at the time that Kent became convinced that Edward II was there. Isn't the fact that Pecche helped Kent and not Mortimer and was arrested for it, and was not charged with Kent's entrapment in November 1330 as John Deveril and another member of the Corfe garrison were, rather telling?

Kent is condemned as an unstable and gullible fool by just about every historian who's written on the subject, with the notable exception of Ian Mortimer, because he believed Edward II was alive. Every aspect of his career and character is then forced to fit this characterisation. But if he was a gullible fool and Edward II was dead, why was it so important to execute him? Nobody laughed at him and said "You idiot, he's been dead for years, go back to your estates and leave politics alone!" No, he was sentenced to death.

William le Galeys

'William the Welshman'. A man calling himself by this name met Edward III near Koblenz in Germany in early September 1338, spent some time with him then, and a further three weeks with him in Antwerp in December. Edward III's Wardrobe accounts state: "William le Galeys who asserts that he is the father of the present king" and "William Galeys who calls himself king of England, father of the present king".

The first thing to note is that the accounts don't say "...who falsely claims" or "the impostor William le Galeys...". The man who kept the Wardrobe accounts, William Norwell, had served Edward II from 1313 to the end of his reign.

The second point is that other royal pretenders of the era definitely did not spend several weeks socialising with the royal personage they were pretending to be, or claiming kinship with. Royal pretenders were usually executed. Edward II himself had met a pretender named John of Powderham in 1318; John was hanged. In 1301, a woman known to posterity as the 'False Margaret' was burned alive in Bergen for claiming to be Margaret, the Maid of Norway, Edward II's first fiancee, who had died in 1290 at the age of seven. Not only was William not executed, he wasn't punished in any way. There's no record of Edward III denying his claims.

Pretenders usually made their claim publicly. William the Welshman did not. He never openly proclaimed himself the rightful king, or ex-king, of England - only to Edward III. And the man who brought William to Edward III was an Italian sergeant-at-arms called Francekino Forcet, or Francisco Forcetti. Forcetti had links with the Fieschi family, as in the Fieschi Letter, above.

Why 'William the Welshman'? If this was Edward II, he could hardly call himself 'Edward' openly, and William was not a name associated with his family. Edward was born in Caernarfon, in North Wales, and never gave up his title of Prince of Wales to his son - the only title he didn't. Paul Doherty has speculated that William was William Ockley, the man convicted of Edward II's murder in 1330, who then disappeared. But there's no evidence that Ockley was Welsh - he seems to have come from Ireland.

Edward II or not, the whole episode is an oddity.

John de Galeis, or de Gales

A squire of the King of Navarre in the early 1390s, and described variously as "the bastard brother of the King of England" and "the bastard of England". (Many thanks to Dr Ian Mortimer for telling me about John and sharing his ideas with me. Oh, and for sending me a scan of Melton's letter, above. ;)

Given the date, the obvious inference is that John was an illegitimate son of Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince, and a half-brother of the reigning King, Richard II. However, Edward of Woodstock never acknowledged him as such, and it would be very strange - not to mention discourteous and disrespectful - of the King of Navarre to refer to him as Edward's son and Richard's brother if he had never been acknowledged by Edward. And besides, Edward of Woodstock sent a John de Galeis a tun of wine in November 1360. Given that Edward was only thirty himself in 1360, he could hardly have had a son old enough to be sent wine. Edward did acknowledge an illegitimate son called Roger of Clarendon - the only illegitimate child mentioned in his will of 1376.

John can't have been an illegitimate son of Edward III either, for the same reason as above - Edward never acknowledged him - and because any son of Edward III was not a brother of a King of England. Is it possible that John de Galeis was an illegitimate son of Edward II born after 1327, perhaps in the 1330s or beginning of the 1340s, and thus the half-brother of Edward III?

Lord Berkeley's Claims

Thomas, Lord Berkeley told Parliament in November 1330 nec unquam scivit de morta sua usque in presenti parliamento ipso, "he never even knew about that [Edward II's] death until the present Parliament". I've looked at this before, and I still think it's an extraordinary thing for him to have said. If he was feigning ignorance of the circumstances of the murder, why not say "I don't know how Edward was murdered, I wasn't there"? If he meant to say that this was the first time he had heard that Edward II's death was now being treated as murder, why not state it more clearly than "I didn't know about the death"?

Professor Roy Martin Haines has written in his Death of a King that "What Berkeley meant to say, and he ought to have expressed himself more clearly, unless the recording clerk is to blame, was that he knew nothing about the circumstances of the death." I'd love to know how Professor Haines has access to Berkeley's head, so he can state with so much certainty what Berkeley was thinking. Mr David J. H. Smith, the Berkeley Castle archivist, doesn't entirely agree with him: he has written in the Times Literary Supplement "what Thomas actually said was that this was the first time he had heard any suspicion of foul play in the King’s death...".

[Mr Smith makes an error in his letter: Thomas de Berkeley's messenger was indeed sent to Edward III at Lincoln, not Nottingham; Edward III didn't arrive at Nottingham until 30 September, and knew of his father's death by the 24th. I think the mistake is in the Berkeley records, which do say Nottingham, not Lincoln, but Edward III's itinerary is perfectly clear.]

Both men are convinced that their respective interpretations of Berkeley's strange statement are correct. However, it seems to me that they are arguing from the position of certainty that Edward II was murdered in 1327 and are forcing Berkeley's words to fit into that. But what if we take the view that Edward was alive in November 1330, or at the very least that he hadn't been murdered in Berkeley's custody in 1327? What if we assume the most literal interpretation of Berkeley's words? That he genuinely had not heard before that Edward II was dead?

Events September to December 1327

In this post, I'll look at the events from September to December 1327, after the alleged murder of Edward II in Berkeley Castle. For the purposes of the post, I'm assuming that Edward really was murdered on 21 September. However, there are very reasonable grounds to suspect that this wasn't the case.

Setting the scene: the principal characters on Sunday 21 September 1327

- Sir Edward of Caernarfon, formerly King Edward II, forty-three years old, imprisoned in Berkeley Castle, Gloucestershire, in the custody of Thomas, Lord Berkeley and John Maltravers. Attempts had been made to free him, including a successful one, and his friends Rhys ap Gruffydd and Donald of Mar were in Wales, also plotting to free him. They were betrayed to William Shalford, Roger Mortimer's Deputy Justice of Wales, on 7 September, whereupon Shalford sent a letter to Mortimer begging him to find a solution to the Edward problem.

- King Edward III, his mother Queen Isabella, his legal guardian Earl Henry of Lancaster, and other nobles were at Lincoln, where they were attending Parliament. (Not at Nottingham, as often stated; they arrived there on 30 September.)

- Roger Mortimer, lover of Queen Isabella, was absent from court. He had left on or around 4 September, and was in south Wales. He rejoined the court in Nottingham by 4 October.

During the night of 23/24 September, Sir Thomas Gurney arrived at Lincoln, bearing letters from Lord Berkeley (further proof that Berkeley was indeed at Berkeley Castle, despite his 1330 protestations that he wasn't). Edward III was informed of his father's death, which was said to have come from natural causes, and another letter was addressed to Queen Isabella. How they felt cannot possibly be determined. How complicit Isabella was in the murder - or plot to present it as murder - is a matter for speculation. On 24 September, Edward III wrote a letter to his cousin John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, informing him that his father had been "commanded to God". This is important, as it proves that Edward began disseminating news of his father's death without checking the facts; in other words, that he took Berkeley's letters at face value.

How the young man felt about the news that his healthy forty-three-year-old father was dead can only be surmised. He was only fourteen years old - he would turn fifteen on 13 November 1327 - and held no power in his own kingdom. He must have suspected that his father had been murdered, and that Roger Mortimer - and possibly his own mother - were heavily involved. It can't be easy for him, not knowing who he could trust, with no-one to confide in. Also, to what extent he mourned for his father, or felt guilt over his actions in taking his throne, is unknown.

On 28 September, the death of the former king was publicly announced before Parliament. Two days later, the court arrived at Nottingham, and by early October, Mortimer had rejoined them. I'll just emphasise the point that nobody at court, not Edward III or Isabella or Edward II's half-brothers Kent and Norfolk or his cousin Lancaster, went to Berkeley to view Edward's body - or even to check that he really was dead.

Meanwhile, back at Berkeley, Edward's body was embalmed, presumably shortly after death, before bodily decay set in. (Edward III was embalmed immediately after death in 1377). Oddly, the embalming was not carried out by a local physician or apothecary, as you'd expect, but by a local woman, presumably a midwife or wise woman. Edward's heart was removed and placed in a silver vase; Thomas Berkeley later claimed 37 shillings and 8 pence from the Exchequer for the costs. Heart removal was a totally normal and accepted practice in royal burials at this time. To give one example of many, the body of Edward II's mother Eleanor of Castile was buried in Westminster Abbey, but her entrails were buried at Lincoln Cathedral and her heart at the Blackfriars in London. The heart of her son Alfonso was also placed in her tomb.

Edward II's heart was later presented to Queen Isabella; many years later, it was placed in her tomb, on her breast. The embalming probably involved covering the face with cere-cloth (wax impregnated cloth), as Edward I's had been in 1307 - when his tomb was opened in 1774, traces of it were still visible on his face. Richard II's face was covered with cerecloth when his body was brought south in 1400, and lifted for people to identify him.

The existence of the woman who embalmed Edward is only known because Exchequer clerks queried the expenses of Hugh Glanville, the royal clerk sent to take charge of Edward's funeral. Glanville took the woman to meet Isabella, soon after Edward's funeral, whereafter she disappears from history (I hope not from life). What she said to Isabella is not known, of course.

From 21 September to 20 October 1327, Edward II's body was guarded by one man: the royal sergeant-at-arms, William Beaukaire. I've already pointed out how odd it is that the only man who watched over Edward's body for a full month was a man who six months earlier had been holding out at Caerphilly Castle against the forces of Mortimer and Isabella, and was thus an adherent of Edward II. This is at odds with the accepted narrative that Edward was murdered on the orders of Roger Mortimer - who could have found plenty of other men willing to cover up evidence of Edward's murder. So why send one of Edward's adherents?

At some unknown date, several men arrived at Berkeley to view Edward's body; knights, abbots and burgesses, their identity unknown. This is mentioned by only one chronicler, Adam Murimuth, who was also the only chronicler in the southwest of England at the time. Unfortunately, he doesn't tell us when this viewing took place, or whether it was at Berkeley or Gloucester, after Edward's body was moved there. Professor Roy Martin Haines has written that it must have taken place before Edward was embalmed, but provides no evidence for this assertion. I personally think it's very doubtful that it did, as it would have taken a few days at least to send out messengers to the men and assemble them at Berkeley, and Edward would have been embalmed by then, almost certainly.

Murimuth also writes that the men only saw the body superficialiter. What does this mean, exactly? Frustratingly, he doesn't say. Superficially, so that the men only got a brief glance at the body? Or does superficialiter mean that they only saw the upper part of the body? (From superficies, meaning 'surface'). Was Edward's face covered with cerecloth, and his body in a shroud, when the men saw him? Was Murimuth hinting that something odd was going on? There are no definitive answers.

On 20 October, a few other men arrived to watch over Edward's body. They were: two knights, Sir Edmund Wasteneys and Sir Robert Hastings; two royal men-at-arms, Bertrand de la More and John de Enfield; two chaplains, Richard de Potesgrave and Bernard de Burgh; Andrew, royal chandler; and John Eaglescliff, Bishop of Llandaff. Eaglescliff was a Dominican friar; the Dominicans were Edward II's favourite order, so Eaglescliff's inclusion was a considerate gesture, probably by Edward III or Queen Isabella. Whether any of these men saw Edward's face is uncertain.

The following day, Abbot John Thoky of Gloucester took over custody of Edward II's body. It was placed on a large chariot or hearse covered with black cloth, drawn by six black horses. Abbot Thoky and his group of monks were joined by Thomas, Lord Berkeley and a group of his knights, all in black, and men-at-arms, carrying lances with black pennons. The funeral cortege made its slow and jolting way the sixteen miles to Gloucester, watched (I imagine) by silent crowds. The cortege stopped every mile; later, local people planted oak trees at all these stopping points. The gate in Gloucester that they passed through, where Berkeley officially handed over custody and legal responsibility, still partially exists (right).





On 22 October, Hugh Glanville, the clerk deputed to arrange Edward's funeral, finally arrived at Gloucester. Edward's body lay in state in the Abbey (now Cathedral). The cover over his body was painted with a gilded leopard, made from 8oo gold leaves, and two more leopards were painted onto the sides of the hearse. The corners of the hearse were decorated with four gilded lions, four images of the Evangelists sat on top of it, and there were eight incense burners, in the form of angels, also gilded. Countless candles were placed everywhere, and barriers of oak were constructed to keep the curious populace from getting too close.

Perhaps the most important point, however, is that Edward's face was obscured: a cover decorated with yet another golden leopard was placed 'over the corpse of the late king at Gloucester'. Forty shillings was paid for 'carving a wooden image, in the likeness of the deceased king', and a copper gilt crown was made for it.

Edward III, Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer, and many, many others, arrived in Gloucester on 19 December. The magnificent funeral took place on the 20th. Roger Mortimer wore the new black tunic in which he would be dragged to his execution, less than three years later. And again, we can be almost certain that Edward's face was not exposed. In 1329/30, his half-brother the Earl of Kent was convinced that Edward was still alive. This suggests, if nothing else, that he didn't get a close look at the corpse's face, and wasn't convinced that anyone else had, either.

I'll look at this in more detail in a later post. Kent is almost inevitably called gullible and a fool by modern historians, because he believed Edward to be alive. It's a circular argument: he only believed Edward was alive because he was a gullible fool; the fact that he believed Edward was alive proves that he must have been a gullible fool. There are considerable grounds for believing that Kent was not a fool, but at any rate, how often do people attend funerals, and then come to believe years later that the dead person is not in fact dead?

An Exciting New Forum

I've set up a forum on Edward II! It's also intended for discussions of other periods of 14th century history, or even other centuries, if people are interested. You can find the forum here.

I know there are lots and lots of people who read this blog but don't comment, so if you want to discuss 14th century history and/or have questions to ask, this is the place for you. ;)

Looking forward to seeing you there!

Photos of the Marches (3)

Wigmore Castle

Wigmore is is north Herefordshire, 12 miles from Ludlow and 20 miles from Hereford. The castle was originally built shortly after the Norman Conquest of 1066, and rebuilt in the mid twelfth century by Hugh Mortimer. Shortly afterwards, in 1155, it was besieged by Henry II. The Mortimer family had owned the castle since 1075.

In July 1304, Roger Mortimer's father Edmund died. As Roger was only seventeen and wouldn't legally come of age until he was twenty-one - which seems pretty ridiculous, considering he'd been married for almost three years in July 1304 and had at least one child - Edward I granted his wardship to Piers Gaveston, at the request of the twenty-year-old Prince of Wales, the future Edward II. This was a huge, huge favour, as Piers thereby gained an income estimated at £700 a year - a vast income for a young man not yet a knight. Most unusually, however, Roger bought Piers out of the wardship, and was granted seisin of his lands on 9 April 1306, when he wasn't quite nineteen. He thus inherited vast estates scattered over many English counties and in Wales, and became Lord of Wigmore, which was his seat and power base.

After Roger was arrested by Edward II in January 1322, all his and his wife Joan's possessions were forfeit to the Crown. Edward sent a group of men to Wigmore to seize Roger and Joan's goods, and the inventory is, fortuitously, still extant, in the Public Record Office. (It was published in the Archaelogical Journal in 1858, and much of it appears in Ian Mortimer's biography of Roger, The Greatest Traitor, if anyone would like to see it).

This picture shows Wigmore Castle as Roger would have known it. Sadly, it's in an extremely ruinous state these days - but still evocative and atmospheric, with stunning views, and well worth a visit.

This is the gatehouse, which was originally two storeys high. Because of fallen masonry and vegetation, the remains of Wigmore Castle are buried up to first floor level. There's an interesting site here, describing the problems of maintaining Wigmore.





You walk around a steep hill, through the wood, and ancient masonry looms out of the trees, like here...

And here....











And here....

And here.

In the late summer of 1329, Roger held a great Round Table jousting tournament at Wigmore, which also marked the celebration of the wedding of two of his daughters, Agnes and Beatrice, who married Laurence Hastings, the future Earl of Pembroke, and Edward, son of Edward II's half-brother Thomas, Earl of Norfolk, respectively. (The birthdates of Agnes and Beatrice are not known, but Laurence Hastings was born in 1320 and Edward of Norfolk in about 1322/24, so we're talking about the marriage of children here.)

The tournament was presumably held in the valley below the castle, and was attended by sixteen-year-old Edward III (who paid Roger, reluctantly, one imagines, the vast sum of £1000 for his daughters' weddings) and Queen Philippa, Roger's mistress Queen Isabella, probably his wife Joan, and a vast crowd of the English nobility. Roger was 'crowned' as King Arthur, while Isabella played Guinevere and oversaw proceedings.

This was taken from the other side of the castle - the side that's fairly close to Wales (the border is several miles away)

St James church, Wigmore, peeking out of the trees, as seen from the castle. It originally dates from before the Norman Conquest.

The church tower dates from the mid-fourteenth century, a decade or two after Roger's execution in 1330, unfortunately - I loved the idea that I could see the same tower that he did, from the same perspective.

Close-up of the church tower. Just look at that perfect blue sky!

Wigmore post office. Buying stamps would actually be a pleasure.

Although there would probably have been far more trees in the fourteenth century, and rather fewer electricity pylons, this is the view over the valley and hills that Roger would have seen:

This area of North Herefordshire is marketed as Mortimer Country these days - here's the website. There's a 30-mile walk called the Mortimer Trail - one day, I'm going to do it...

Photos of the Marches (2)

In which I look at quaint old Herefordshire villages and Roger Mortimer's complex love life

Pembridge

Pembridge lies in northern Herefordshire, 14 miles from Hereford, 7 miles from Leominster and 18 miles from Ludlow.

Pembridge was a Mortimer manor in the Middle Ages, and it's here that Roger Mortimer married Joan de Geneville on 20 September 1301 - he was fourteen, she was fifteen. Despite their youth, they must have consummated their marriage more or less immediately - their eldest child Edmund was born in 1302 or 1303 (yes, Roger became a father at fifteen or sixteen). Roger and Joan had twelve children together, four sons and eight daughters, which points to the closeness of their relationship - Joan accompanied Roger to Ireland during the long periods he spent there, as King's Lieutenant and Justiciar, and must have spent a lot of time with him to become pregnant so often.

Below, views of Pembridge from the churchyard:

It's also possible that Pembridge is the place where Roger and Joan met for the first time after Roger became Queen Isabella's lover; Roger visited Pembridge in November 1326, probably around the time when Edward II and the Younger Despenser were captured in South Wales and before Roger travelled to Hereford to see Despenser's execution. They hadn't seen each other for over five years; Roger had been imprisoned in the Tower of London, escaped and fled to the continent, and Joan and some of their sons and daughters had also been incarcerated (part of Edward II's shameful treatment of the wives and children of his enemies). If they did meet at Pembridge, it would surely have been an emotional occasion, given that they had married here a quarter of a century earlier - and now Roger was the lover of another woman.

Below: the 14th century church and 13th century bell tower

What Roger and Joan said to each other at this time cannot of course be known. Over the next four years, Roger did continue to visit Joan, and she even went to court on occasion - all while Roger continued his affair with Queen Isabella. I sometimes wonder if he found himself torn between the two women? Isabella, beautiful, glamorous and royal, representing lust, excitement, infatuation, ambition and power; Joan, his long-term loyal and constant companion and likely confidante, mother of his many children, representing domesticity, safety, emotional security and marital affection. Terrific material for a novel.

Two 15th century cottages in Pembridge:

The building on the right in the photo above, West End Farm, was built in or just after 1425; samples of timber taken inside show that the trees were cut down in the spring of that year. Brick House, the red one on the left, was built between 1446 and 1454, according to the same dendrochronogical evidence.

Close-ups of the two cottages. Isn't Brick House (the red one) fabulous with all those wonky lines? (Symmetry and straight lines are very overrated, in my opinion.)

Duppa Alms Houses. The plaque says "Forget not your good benefactor Brion Duppa Bishop of Winchester who bielded this hospitoll in 1661". The building has been dated (by dendrochronology) to between 1486 and 1502.

Old houses and pretty gardens on the road towards the River Arrow.

Weobley
(pronounced 'Webley')

Weobley, 7 miles south of Pembridge, is one of Herefordshire's famous Black and White Villages, so-called because of all the half-timbered houses.

The Olde Salutation Inn, dating back to the 14th century:

Two cottages, one dated 1442, and the other, red one, 1695.

Church of St Peter and St Paul, Weobley. Originally Norman, rebuilt between the 13th and 15th centuries. The north transept and aisle date from Edward II's reign.

The house on the right in this photo is for sale. *Wants*

Some pics of the Herefordshire countryside (one was taken from the car)