Blog Hiatus, and Queen of Shadows

I'm off on my holidays for a couple of weeks - we're staying with my mum in the Lake District for a few days, then driving down to Gloucestershire on my 'Edward II Pilgrimage'! My next post will be on 11 October, or thereabouts.

If you haven't read the comments on the last post, please do so - Carla and I had a fascinating discussion going on. When I get back, I'll write some more posts on the theory that Edward II wasn't murdered at all, and on his escape from Berkeley Castle in the summer of 1327.

Before I go, here's a review of Edith Felber's Queen of Shadows, released 7 November, from Amazon.com:

***
Isabella, the French princess at the center of Felber's deftly plotted historical, matures from a 12-year-old bride of Edward II of England to a clever conspirator driven by a thirst for power. Not so secretly gay and viewed as weak, Edward is ordered by Parliament to share his throne with the Earl of Winchester, whose son, Hugh, attracts Edward's attention. Isabella chafes at having to share the throne, particularly with Hugh, who proves to be a rapacious presence. One of Isabella's ladies-in-waiting, Gwenith of the Marches, secretly plans revenge against Edward for his killing of her family, but her dedication to Isabella complicates her mission. After being introduced by Gwenith, Isabella takes condemned nobleman Roger Mortimer, imprisoned in London Tower, as a lover and with him plots a coup that unseats Edward and positions Isabella's son Edward as king. But Roger is shiftier than he initially appears, and allegiances, as ever, are up for grabs. The book is filled with strong-willed characters, though Edward's homosexuality is clumsily handled. Felber, who has written many historical romances as Edith Layton, delivers what fans of the genre want.
***

A big, resounding 'hmmmm....'. The bit about Edward being ordered by Parliament to share his throne with Winchester (Hugh Despenser the Elder) is complete nonsense, and the bit about Isabella and Roger Mortimer being introduced by Gwenith makes me giggle ("Your grace, this is Lord Mortimer, whom you've been seeing around court for the last few years. Lord Mortimer, this is the queen of England." Mortimer: "Seriously??") Not sure about the 'clumsily handled homosexuality' either. I hope Felber hasn't made Edward into a flaming queen, or there may be a book/wall interface. And 'London Tower'?? I hope that's Publishers Weekly's error, not Felber's.

Still, I'm looking forward to it, although I have a feeling I'm not going to like it very much...but only time will tell.

Edward II's Death (?)

Today marks the 679th anniversary of Edward II's death...allegedly. I suppose most people know, or think they know, the story of Edward's terrible death - the 'red-hot poker' narrative that's passed into legend.

After Edward II's forced abdication in January 1327, he was first 'imprisoned' at Kenilworth Castle, under the care of his cousin Henry of Lancaster, who treated him with respect and honour. In April, he was transferred to Berkeley Castle, Gloucestershire, where his jailor was Thomas, Lord Berkeley - the son-in-law of Roger Mortimer. Berkeley had been imprisoned for several years by Edward, and his father had died during his own imprisonment, so he had little reason to like the king.

The chronicle of Geoffrey le Baker, written about thirty years later, mentions Edward's ill-treatment. He was held in a cell above the rotting corpses of animals, in an attempt to kill him indirectly. But Edward was extremely strong, fit and healthy, and survived the treatment, until on the night of 21 September 1327, he was held down and a red-hot poker pushed into his anus through a drenching-horn. His screams could be heard for miles around.

This has become the standard narrative of Edward's death, but there are problems with taking it at face value. Baker hated Queen Isabella (the 'iron virago') and was constructing a narrative of 'Edward as martyr'. The chronicles written shortly after Edward's death (Anonimalle Chronicle, a shorter continuation of the Brut, Lichfield Chronicle, Adam Murimith) variously state only that he died (with no explanation given), that he died of a 'grief-induced illness', or that he was strangled or suffocated. The official pronouncement of Edward's death, in September 1327, claimed that he died of 'natural causes'. It wasn't described as murder until November 1330, when Roger Mortimer was accused of 'having [Edward] murdered at Berkeley' during his show trial.

The earliest reference to the 'red-hot poker' method is found in a longer continuation of the Brut, written in the 1330s. However, many other fourteenth-century chronicles do not repeat this allegation. None of the men who killed Edward - for the purposes of this post, I'm assuming that he really was murdered in 1327 - ever spoke about it publicly. Therefore, we're dealing with rumour and hearsay, how the chroniclers thought he'd been murdered.

Admittedly, I find it very hard to view Edward's death objectively - I'm very fond of him, and would rather believe that he didn't die in such a vile way. However, the red-hot poker story does seem implausible. The idea was to kill him in such a fashion that no marks of violence would be visible on his body. However, why then kill him in such an agonising fashion that his screams could be heard for miles around? Why torture him, so that his (dead) face wore an expression of agony, if you were trying to pretend that his death was natural? Surely strangling or smothering, or even poison, would have been more effective. These methods would also have left physical traces on Edward's body, but if his eyes were closed and his body covered up, they would have been missed by the people viewing his body.

Here are some other ideas on the story:
- Mary Saaler, in her 1997 biography of Edward II, quotes Adam Murimith's comment that Edward was killed per cautelam, by a trick, and wonders if this phrase became corrupted to per cauterium, a branding-iron.
- Pierre Chaplais and Ian Mortimer have commented on the death of King Edmund Ironside in 1016, said to have been murdered in a similar way to Edward, while sitting on the privy. The story was often repeated in thirteeth-century chronicles.
- And finally, Edward's brother-in-law the earl of Hereford was killed at the Battle of Boroughbridge in 1322 when he was skewered through the anus by a spear pushed up through the bridge.

It's my belief that the grotesque 'anal rape' narrative of Edward's death (Dr Ian Mortimer's phrase) is nothing more than a reflection of the popular belief that Edward was the passive partner in sexual acts with men, and that this means of death represented Edward receiving his 'just desserts'. The deaths of the earl of Hereford and Edmund Ironside may have provided the inspiration for this.
Similarly, the castration (or emasculation) of Edward's favourite, the younger Despenser, in November 1326, was said by the chronicler Jean Froissart to be a punishment for his sexual relations with Edward. Whether this is true or not is impossible to say, but I think the narratives of both men's deaths reflect the widespread belief that they had sexual relations and were punished for them. Often, a story that begins as a joke or a rumour takes on the aura of 'truth' - such as the death of Edward's descendant George, Duke of Clarence, who died in the Tower of London in 1478. He is supposed to have drowned in a 'butt of malmsey'. It's difficult to ascertain whether this is the truth, or merely reflects his reputation as a drunkard.

Perhaps the story also represents a general human willingness to believe the most gruesome story - after all, being murdered with a red-hot piece of metal in the anus is far more 'interesting' than being smothered. And perhaps we shouldn't discount the early account of Edward's death from 'grief-induced illness', the accusation against Mortimer notwithstanding. At first sight it's not very plausible, but it is possible - given that Edward had lost his throne, his friends were dead, his family had turned against him, and he never saw his children again. If Edward was murdered in 1327, I'm far more inclined to believe that he was suffocated or strangled. He was a strong man and would have resisted, but of course he could have been murdered while he was asleep, or drugged.

But a far more fascinating question is - was Edward really murdered in 1327? Some modern historians incline to the view that he wasn't - which will be the subject of a further post shortly!

Until then, I'm going to raise a glass to King Edward II, who may or may not have died exactly 679 years ago. Cheers, Your Grace!

One Letter Makes All The Difference

From Sarah and Susan: a meme where you change just one letter in a novel title, and describe the new plot. Here are mine, featuring novels set in Edward II's reign (or thereabouts).

Lard of Misrule: Piers Gaveston's problems with overeating and the fury it engenders in Edward II's barons. (Lord of Misrule, Eve Trevaskis)

King's Wade: Bored with rowing and swimming, Edward II constructs a new water feature at his favourite manor of Langley. (King's Wake, Eve Travaskis)

The Traitor's Wire: Hugh Despenser becomes a successful pirate with the aid of a length of cable, and wonders how it could help him improve his extortion skills. (The Traitor's Wife, Susan Higginbotham)

Harlow Queen: The famous actress learns that she was Queen Isabella in a previous life. (Harlot Queen, Hilda Lewis)

The Tournament of Brood: The women of Edward II's court take part in an unusual competition to see who is the most desperate for a baby. (The Tournament of Blood, Michael Jecks)

Isabel the Pair: Isabel(la) is shocked to learn that she has an identical twin sister with the same name. (Isabel the Fair, Margaret Campbell Barnes)

The Love Knit: Isabella gets out her needles to make Roger Mortimer warm cardigans and mittens, in order to prove her love for him. (The Love Knot, Vanessa Alexander)

The Dollies of the King: Edward II tries desperately to keep his large collection of dolls a secret. (The Follies of the King, Jean Plaidy)

The Zion of Mortimer: After escaping from the Tower, Roger travels to Jerusalem to drum up support for his anti-Edward platform. (The Lion of Mortimer, Juliet Dymoke)

The She-Golf of France: Fed-up with unisex sports, Isabella returns to France to play her favourite game on a women-only course. (The She-Wolf of France, Maurice Druon)

Death of a Ming: During a row with Edward, a furious Isabella throws a vase at him. (Death of a King, Paul Doherty)

The Bows of the Peacock: Edward tries to teach a bird how to genuflect before his royal majesty. (The Vows of the Peacock, Alice Walworth Graham)

The King is a Ditch: Edward II takes one of his favourite hobbies very seriously indeed. (The King is a Witch, Evelyn Eaton)

Hummer of the Scots: Edward I invades Scotland with the aim of providing all the inhabitants with an SUV. (Hammer of the Scots, Jean Plaidy)

Edward II's Maternal Family

Edward II's mother was Eleanor of Castile, probably born in 1241. On 1 November 1254, she married the future Edward I (born 1239), elder son of Henry III, in Burgos; their marriage was intended to prevent her half-brother Alfonso X from claiming Gascony, which was ruled by England at that time. Eleanor bore fifteen or sixteen children, but only six of them outlived her (see here and here for my previous posts on her children).

Eleanor's mother was Jeanne de Dammartin, born circa 1216/20, Countess of Ponthieu and Montreuil in her own right. Jeanne had once been betrothed to Henry III, but he broke off the engagement in order to marry Eleanor of Provence. She married Fernando III, king of Castile and Leon, in 1237. Born circa 1200, Fernando united the kingdoms of Castile and Leon in 1231, and spent a large part of his reign fighting the Moors. His first marriage to Elisabeth of Hohenstaufen, cousin of Emperor Frederick II, produced ten children. On his death in 1252, Fernando was succeeded by his son Alfonso X, born 1221, reigned 1252-1284. He was known as 'El Sabio', 'The Wise' or 'The Learned', and was Edward II's half-uncle. Fernando III was canonised in 1671 (I really like the fact that Edward II was the grandson of a saint!)

The marriage of Fernando III and Jeanne de Dammartin produced one daughter, Eleanor, two sons who died in early childhood, and two other sons who both died in 1269. After she was widowed, Jeanne returned to her native Ponthieu, where she died in 1279. Her only surviving child Queen Eleanor inherited Ponthieu and Montreuil, which eventually passed to her son, the future Edward II, on her death in 1290. As Edward was only six years old then, the lands were adminstered for him by his uncle Edmund of Lancaster. Edward granted the revenues of Ponthieu and Montreuil to Isabella three months after their wedding in 1308. The lands passed to the French crown during the Hundred Years War.

Alfonso X was succeeded by his son Sancho IV, Edward II's first cousin, who ruled from 1284 to 1295. Sancho's son Fernando IV was the king of Castile and Leon at the time of Edward II's succession in 1307 (Fernando ruled 1295 to 1312, and died at the age of twenty-six). Relations between Edward II and Castile were generally very good throughout his reign. He was keen to marry his daughter Eleanor of Woodstock to Alfonso XI, son of Fernando IV and thus Edward's first cousin twice removed, and his son the future Edward III to Alfonso's sister Leonor, but nothing came of the plans. Eleanor of Woodstock had a lucky escape, as Alfonso XI neglected his Portuguese wife in favour of his mistress, who bore him ten children, and is known as 'The Avenger' or 'The Implacable'.

Edward II And The Imposter

Edward II was, by the standards of the fourteenth century, an extremely unconventional king. As I wrote in my previous post on his character and hobbies, he enjoyed the company of peasants - eating dinner with carpenters and going swimming with a large group of 'common people', to name just two examples - and loved digging, thatching, rowing and numerous other activities considered incompatible with royal dignity.

With this in mind, plus the disasters of his reign and his general ineptness at ruling, it's hardly surprising that many of his contemporaries wondered if he really was royal. Rumours that he was a changeling were widespread during his reign, and matters came to a head in 1318 with the appearance of John of Powderham.

John, also known as John Deydras or Drydas, was (according to contemporary chronicles) the son of a tanner. He somehow gained access to the royal palace of Beaumont in Oxford, and claimed that "he was the true heir of the realm, as the son of the illustrious King Edward, who had long been dead. He declared that my Lord Edward was not of the blood royal, nor had any right to the realm, which he offered to prove by combat with him." (Lanercost Chronicle)

John's story was that as a young child he had been attacked and mauled by a sow in one of the royal residences, and had lost an ear. His nurse was far too terrified to admit this to the king, so substituted a carter's son for the royal child. John, who apparently bore a close resemblance to the king, was indeed missing an ear, and claimed that he, the rightful king of England, had been brought up by the carter while the peasant boy ascended the throne.

John was taken before Edward during the Northampton Parliament of 1318. Edward, who for all his faults was not lacking a sense of humour, greeted him with the words "Welcome, my brother". Edward in fact seems to have taken the whole affair as a huge joke and wanted to make John a court jester, but he was put on trial for sedition anyway, apparently at the request of some of Edward's barons. Finally, John admitted that his story was untrue, but he had been inspired to his actions by the Devil appearing to him in the form of a cat. In true medieval fashion, the 'rightful king of England' was hanged, with his cat alongside him.

Although Edward evidently found all this amusing, Queen Isabella was said to be "troubled beyond measure" by the appearance of John. Early in the twentieth century, Professor Hilda Johnstone wondered if this humiliating episode had sown seeds of doubt in Isabella's mind and ultimately led her along the path that ended with Edward's deposition in 1327. However, in her recent biography of Isabella, Alison Weir points out that there is no evidence that Isabella believed the story, and also that she was probably emotionally vulnerable after childbirth (their third child Eleanor had been born only a few weeks earlier). I believe that Weir's interpretation is the correct one.

It's easy to understand Isabella's concern - as the daughter of two sovereigns, Philippe IV of France and Jeanne, Queen of Navarre in her own right, she would have grown up with a strong belief in the power and dignity of royalty. I can imagine that Edward's love of 'peasant things' was incomprehensible and shameful to her, and for John of Powderham to publicly proclaim that her husband was not royal, but a carter's son - untrue though it certainly was - must have been profoundly humiliating.

As for Edward himself, his unconventionality and individuality are probably the most striking things about him. He was a man out of his time, a man who would have been much better suited to living in a later century, when his preferred activities (not to mention his love for men) would not have been so harshly judged, when a king with the 'common touch' would have been welcomed, not condemned. John of Powderham's story, a nine days' wonder in 1318, demonstrates how Edward and his unconventional behaviour were perceived by many of his contemporaries - with horror and disbelief.

Edward II Novel of the Week (6): 'The Death of a King' by P. C. Doherty

Published in 1985, this is the highly prolific Doherty's first novel. It takes place in 1345/6 and is narrated in the first person by Edmund Beche, a clerk who is ordered by King Edward III to investigate the circumstances of his father Edward II's death.

I enjoyed the structure of the novel - every chapter consists of a letter sent by Beche to his friend Richard Bliton, Prior of Crowland Abbey, as he details his investigations and discoveries. (According to Doherty's Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II, Bliton was the confessor of Hugh Despenser the Younger. That must have been a full-time job.)

Unfortunately, Beche himself remains an engima - other than the fact that he's competent and resourceful, I feel that I never really learn anything about him as a character. This is also true for other characters - Edward III, for instance, never comes to life (admittedly, he only appears a couple of times) and few other people appear long or often enough to be fully rounded characters. Dowager Queen Isabella is emphatically an 'old bitch', as the narrative often calls her, and tries to have Beche murdered twice.

There are some historical inaccuracies, though nothing too bad. Beche states (in 1345) that he can't speak to Thomas Berkeley, Edward II's jailor, because he's dead. However, Berkeley lived to 1361, and his son was only fifteen in 1345, not the hardened soldier depicted here. The earl of Kent was executed in 1330, not 1329; Adam Orleton was not Bishop of Worcester in 1345, having been promoted to Bishop of Winchester in 1327; and it was in the reign of Edward III, not Edward II, when John Stratford was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. (These are the kind of picky little details that only a hopeless anorak such as myself would spot, and are unlikely to bother the general reader.)

The 'error' that bothered me most, though, occurs early in the novel, when Edward III tells Beche that he was born in March 1312. In fact, Edward was born on 13 November 1312, a date which is undisputed. I assumed this was a careless error by Doherty, but there is a reason for this change - which I'll comment on later.

**NOTE: SPOILERS. In order to discuss the novel properly, I'm going to give away the 'secrets' that Beche discovers. Anyone intending to read the novel, and who doesn't want to know what happens, should stop reading here.**



Beche's journey takes him all over the country, to talk to Queen Isabella, the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Berkeley, and so on. He comes to realise that all is not as it seems, and comes to the startling conclusion that Edward II was not murdered at all, but escaped from Berkeley and is still alive in Italy. As if that revelation wasn't enough, Edward III's father is not Edward II, but Roger Mortimer. Edward III is desperate for this truth to remain hidden, as it means that he is not the true king of England, and would also invalidate his claim to the French throne.

This is the real reason for Doherty's 'careless error' with Edward III's date of birth. As Doherty certainly knows perfectly well, Edward II and Isabella were together in York in February/March 1312 to conceive Edward III, born in November that year. However, if Edward III was born in March 1312, this would push the date of his conception back to the summer of 1311 - when Edward II was on campaign in Scotland and nowhere near Isabella. Unfortunately for the Mortimer theory, Roger Mortimer spent the whole of 1311 in Ireland, and couldn't possibly have fathered Edward III. (Not to mention that there isn't a shred of evidence that his affair with Isabella began before 1322 at the absolute earliest, and probably not until late 1325.) And surely someone would have noticed if Isabella became pregnant when her husband was hundreds of miles away?

I have to say I find this very dishonest - to change a perfectly well-known, undisputed historical fact to fit your plot. However, for me it's the only major flaw in the novel. The plot unfolds very nicely, one startling revelation following another, and I loved seeing Edward II survive his imprisonment at Berkeley - the scene where he escapes with the Dunheved brothers is very well done. Edward himself appears at the end of the novel, in a monastery in Italy. He has taken the name Hugolino in memory of his friend Hugh Despenser, and is relieved to be free of the burden of kingship. He has no wish to return to England, or to become king again, but wants only to be left alone - a wish which sadly doesn't come true.

This is a very interesting take on the mystery of Edward II's death. Doherty makes Edward's survival seem plausible, and shows how the fact that he isn't dead affects Isabella and Edward III - they know he's still alive, but they don't know where. Isabella shuts herself up at Castle Rising with a large bodyguard, afraid of her husband taking revenge on her, and Edward III fears that his father will re-surface with the truth of his 'son's' paternity. I really love the idea of Edward II escaping from Berkeley and living out the rest of his life at peace.

The real question is, can this be what really happened...?

Review of Marlowe's 'Edward II'

Performed by the Wales Theatre Company and directed by Malachi Bogdanov at the Globe Theatre, Neuss, Germany, on 30 July. (See my earlier post for more details.) There's a review here, in German.

The play was pared down to the bare minimum of characters - only Edward II, Queen Isabella, Piers Gaveston, Roger Mortimer, the earls of Kent and Lancaster, Edward III, Edward's jailor Maltravers and his murderer Lightborn (and the earl of Arundel, very briefly). There was also a character 'Mario', played by Italian Daniele Monachella, the stage assistant. Mario represented Edward's supporters after the death of Gaveston.

I found this paring down of the text very effective, as it allowed far more focus on the themes of thwarted love, hate, revenge and deceit, and pointed up the harsh 'eat or be eaten' nature of power politics. Although one of the people I attended this performance with didn't enjoy it too much, I thought it was great. It was a very modern production, with frequent loud music - Blur, Coldplay, The Clash, etc - and modern costumes, including the earl of Lancaster as a football fan in an England shirt, shorts and trainers, Queen Isabella in a leopardskin dress, and the earl of Kent in a baggy suit with a beret and big trainers. And Piers Gaveston in black leather trousers...hubba hubba!

The setting was minimal, a bare stage surrounded by the bars of a cage. There was a claustrophobic feel to it all, as though the characters were trapped in a deadly struggle to the death, suffocating in their confinement, every little quarrel and quibble magnified by their proximity to each other.

The acting was uniformly excellent. Stephen Eliot-McDonald as Mortimer gave a commanding performance as a man with good intentions who is slowly corrupted by power, and Hester Ruoff was very believable as a woman driven to the end of her tether by her husband's neglect. On the other hand, it was impossible not to feel sympathy for Edward (Adam Dunseath) and Gaveston (Matt Rozier), lovers bewildered by the barons' persecution of them, wanting only to be together. Their love for each other was obvious and moving. Peter Wilkinson took the role of Edward III (he also played Kent) and made him a shy, uncertain teenager, who nevertheless found the strength to overthrow his mother and her lover.

However, I thought that Mike Rogers as the earl of Lancaster was the best thing in the play (Rogers will be a familiar face to viewers of British soap operas, as he's appeared in Coronation Street, Eastenders and Emmerdale). He also took the role of Lightborn and the small role of Arundel. Lancaster doesn't have a huge part in the play, but Rogers stole the show with his facial expressions and body language.

Some highlights:
- The performance began with Queen Isabella in a gold bikini, table dancing (only without a table!) to the sounds of 'Girls and Boys' by Blur. This was the prelude to Edward's coronation, a booze-up in a seedy nightclub which concluded with Edward's being given a golden key as symbol of his regality. King Edward wore his key throughout, until forced to give it up to Mortimer.
- Any time Edward and Gaveston appeared together was excellent, thanks to the intensity of their relationship and their defiance in the face of universal condemnation.
- The infamous red-hot poker scene was of course present. Mike Rogers (Lancaster) also took the role of Lightborn, and made him frightening and utterly sinister, amicably talking to Edward in his cell and eating a bag of M and Ms (and offering Edward one). Edward lay on a table, legs in the air, covered with a cloth. The 'poker' was a length of lead piping, four or five feet long, all of which was 'inserted' into Edward and then pulled out. The song 'Ring of Fire' was played throughout.
- My fiance considered Isabella's table dancing to be a particular highlight. ;)


In case this all sounds like doom and gloom, there were some nicely comic moments to lighten the mood: Mortimer, held at gun point by Mario, effortlessly knocking the gun out of his hand and escaping, and the earl of Lancaster muttering 'tw*t' (and I don't mean 'twit') under his breath several times whenever Edward or Gaveston annoyed him. Maybe you had to be there, but it was really funny, honestly. Edward's death scene was also grimly amusing, thanks to the music, Lightborn's facial expressions, and the fact that the insertion of the piping was physically impossible - meaning that Edward's death was less horrific than it might have been.

I've checked online, and so far haven't found any performances outside Germany, rather oddly. It was extremely fortunate for me that it took place in a theatre twenty minutes from my house (fate, almost)! All in all, this was an excellent production, well worth seeing, and I hope that it is taken to a wider audience.

My Favourite Edward II Novels

Carla, Sarah and Susan (and a few others) have all written about their five favourite historical novels recently. I decided to do it slightly differently, so here are my five favourite Edward II novels, in no particular order:

1) Gaveston by Chris Hunt - see my review of it here. Although it drags somewhat in the middle, it's a beautifully-written account of Edward II's long and passionate affair with Piers Gaveston, with impeccable historical accuracy, vivid description and a tender love story.

Oh, and lots of explicit gay sex. ;)

2) The Queen and Mortimer by Brenda Honeyman. I've just written a review of this (the post below this one). A well-written, balanced account of Edward II and Isabella which depicts all the main characters very nicely.

3) The Traitor's Wife by Susan Higginbotham. The story of Edward's niece Eleanor de Clare, a woman whose life was so fascinating I'm amazed there aren't a dozen novels about her. Moving and tragic, but also full of gentle humour, it portrays the complex politics and personalities of Edward II's reign with complete historical accuracy. And Susan even manages to depict Hugh Despenser the Younger sympathetically, while not glossing over his many crimes - no mean feat.

4) The She-Wolf by Pamela Bennetts. One of the very few Edward II novels that skips the Gaveston years, and most of Edward's reign, and begins in March 1325 - shortly before Edward sends Isabella to negotiate with her brother the king of France, the beginning of the end for Edward. Isabella here is cruel, calculating, and full of hatred and bitterness for her husband. Just about the only Edward II novel where Isabella is not a sympathetic character at any time.
I'll be writing a review of this novel fairly soon.

5) Isabel the Fair by Margaret Campbell Barnes. Traces Isabella's development from a young, innocent bride madly in love with her husband, through gradual disillusionment with his incompetence and male lovers, until finally she can take no more and rebels. There are a few historical inaccuracies in the novel, but it's a well-rounded, sympathetic portrayal of the Queen, and Edward comes off fairly well too.
I'll also write a review of this one in the near future.

Edward II Novel of the Week (5): 'The Queen and Mortimer' by Brenda Honeyman

Published in 1974, this novel is, unfortunately, rather hard to find these days, and is currently unavailable on both Amazon UK and Amazon US. That's a shame, because it's well worth a read.

The most appealing feature of the novel for me is that all the main characters - Edward II, Queen Isabella, Roger Mortimer and Hugh Despenser - are portrayed very sympathetically, not something you find very often in Edward II novels. The characterisation is almost uniformly excellent. I didn't spot any glaring historical inaccuracies, except the story that Honeyman uses about Edward's murder: that Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, suggests sending a letter in Latin ('Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est') to Edward's captors, that could either read 'Edward kill, not to fear the deed is good' or Edward kill not, to fear the deed is good', so that Isabella and Mortimer can remain free of suspicion in ordering Edward murdered. This story has been comprehensively discredited, and Orleton wasn't even in England at the time.

The Queen and Mortimer begins in 1318, and covers the main events of the second half of Edward's reign and the opening years of Edward III's reign, ending with the downfall of Isabella and Mortimer in 1330 (as Edward II novels almost invariably do). The complex politics of Edward II's reign are described in just enough detail, so that the reader understands the background, but are never allowed to swamp the narative, which focuses mainly on the relationships between the four main characters.

Perhaps surprisingly, there's almost no interaction between Edward and Isabella - there isn't a single scene in the novel where they appear alone together. Edward's attitude to his wife is never explored. Honeyman does examine Isabella's feelings for Edward, however. By 1318, she is intensely frustrated and comes to feel 'nothing but hatred and contempt' for him. However, he had once been a 'most satisfactory lover', even if their love had remained purely physical, and Edward had for a long time 'exercised a fascination for her in no way diminished by his sexual practices'. On the first page of the novel, Isabella remembers how happy she once was to be married to Edward, until she discovered that she was married to a 'sexually perverted husband'.

That is clearly Isabella's opinion, however, not Honeyman's, and I was pleased to see how sympathetic she is to Edward and his feelings for other men. Shortly before he and Hugh Despenser are captured in 1326, Edward remembers that 'from his adolescence on...he had been persecuted because he did not conform; because he was different; because he would not pretend to be something other than he was, a man who loved men.' The depiction of his relationship with Hugh is quite different from anything I've seen in other novels. Edward refuses to consummate his relationship with Hugh (a fact of which Isabella is perfectly well aware) because his 'deep and abiding love for Gaveston...precluded Edward's total giving of himself to any other man.' Hugh is lovesick, longing to make love with Edward, and sexually jealous both of Isabella and Piers Gaveston. Their relationship is stormy, and they often struggle for mastery. Finally, in 1323, they consummate it, in a lovely passage:

Edward could not say why he was about to betray the memory of Piers, to which he had remained faithful for so long...There was beauty in the world; why should he not have his share?
"Love me," he murmured, kissing his friend's lips. "Love me."

Tender and lovely.

Unfortunately for Isabella, now that Edward is 'blissfully fulfilled', he becomes totally indifferent to her needs, and Hugh becomes even more jealous of her, a jealousy which enormously increases his animosity towards her and causes him to work against her by depriving her of her estates and trying to petition the Pope for the annulment of the royal marriage. Isabella longs to take a lover, but dares not - at least, until she meets Roger Mortimer in Paris in late 1325.

Roger is attractively portrayed as energetic, vigorous, strong and ambitious. He is disgusted by Edward, but doesn't contemplate moving against the king until 1321, when he feels that Edward's actions give him no choice. Unusually for an Edward II novel, Isabella here plays no role in helping him escape from the Tower in 1323, and in fact she is almost unaware of his existence until 1325, when she dances with him in Paris and falls in love. Roger, too, has fallen in love with Isabella, a woman he had always been indifferent to. Unaware that Isabella feels the same way towards him, he attempts to begin an affair with another woman, until one day he and Isabella admit their feelings for each other. 'For now, she had no wish, no thought, no need but to give herself completely to this man whom she had coveted for so many weeks'.

Finally, Isabella comes to realise that she has little choice but to depose her husband, and execute the hated Despensers. She has inner conflict over her actions, though; after the execution of the younger Despenser - whom she detests, with good reason - she is frightened by her 'flight into barbarism' and terrified by the blood-lust she believes she has inherited from her father Philip IV. In 1330, she realises that 'what she had done was evil'. After the execution of her lover Roger, she comes to understand Edward much better: 'To both of them had been given the gifts of greatly loving and being loved...they had both known that fulfilment which only true and abiding love could bring'.

Most of the characterisation in the novel rings true to me. From the beginning, we see Isabella as a highly intelligent, capable woman who is intensely frustrated, both privately and politically. Nevertheless, she finds the strength to break out of her limited role. Edward II has been forced into a role he is unsuited for, but is an extremely likeable man, who is more interested in making a wooden doll for his daughter than in dealing with his rebellious barons in 1321. His key characteristic is his loyalty (although not to his wife...;). In 1326, he has the opportunity to make peace with the invading forces by giving up Hugh Despenser to Isabella and Roger, but he refuses to do it, although he realises that he has never loved Hugh.

Some of the minor characters are very well depicted, too. Shortly before his execution in 1322, Edward's cousin Thomas of Lancaster realises that he is dying for the crime of killing Piers Gaveston, which the king has never forgiven him for. 'And what good had that murder ever done him? Hatred and revenge, as Edward would soon discover, had a habit of going wrong.' Edward III's future wife Philippa appears in one scene, to tell Edward that she believes Isabella and Roger 'are concerned with...with seeking revenge for their own wrongs, not with righting the injustices of the people.' Edward III himself loves his father, but before the invasion he is determined to bring down the Despensers, so that his father can rule properly without his evil counsellors; 'He was too young to realise that the only real wound he could inflict upon the king was to deprive him of his lover.'

In conclusion, The Queen and Mortimer is a lovely little novel, filled with interesting insights. My only criticism is that, at less than 190 pages, it's much too short, and I would have loved to read more. Well worth a read for anyone interested in this period, if you can get hold of a copy.

Death of Edward I, and other random stuff

Edward I died on 7 July 1307, exactly 699 years ago, at Burgh-on-Sands near the Scottish border. He was attempting another campaign against Robert Bruce, which his son, now King Edward II, immediately abandoned. The new king made clear what his priorities were by recalling his beloved Piers Gaveston from the exile imposed on him by Edward I a few months earlier.

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Something I've just seen on Susan's website: a hilarious take on Christopher Marlowe's play called Edward II in 15 Minutes. My favourite bit:

ISABELLA: Your daddy is fucking the kingdom. Somewhat literally. Mr. Mortimer and I are making sure that it's going to be all straightened out for you. Also literally.

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Also spotted lately on Bourgeois Nerd, the Advertising Slogan Generator. I put in 'Edward II', and these are my favourite results:

The best one: Men can't help acting on Edward II. I really need to get that printed on a T-shirt!
Suitable slogans for Piers Gaveston and Hugh le Despenser: Reach out and touch Edward II and Do the Edward II
Appropriate for Edward's strange (by fourteenth century standards) hobbies: Hand-built by Edward II and The curiously strong Edward II
Best slogan for this blog: I'm only here for the Edward II

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There's been an article doing the rounds of blogdom lately. It talks about the fact that approximately 80% of English people alive today are descended from Edward III, and contains the following paragraph:

In 1312 the close adviser and probable lover of Edward II, Piers Gaveston, was murdered by a group of barons frustrated with their king's ineffectual rule. The next year the beleaguered king produced the son who became Edward III.
Had Edward II been killed along with Gaveston in 1312 — a definite possibility at the time — Edward III would never have been born.

I'm afraid this is total nonsense. Piers Gaveston was killed on 19 June 1312, and the future Edward III was born on 13 November in the same year. Gaveston's death had no impact whatsoever on Edward III's birth, as Queen Isabella was around four months pregnant at the time (and as I mentioned in a previous post, Edward III was probably conceived during the week-long celebration for the birth of Gaveston's daughter Joan). And there was really no 'definite possibility' that Edward II would be killed along with Gaveston. I doubt it would have occurred to anyone as early as 1312 - it took another fourteen years of misrule by Edward before his deposition was seriously considered. Although the deposition and murder of kings later became reasonably common, in 1312 it was practically unthinkable, however exasperated Edward's barons may have been with him.