The Joust

The Joust was a specific kind of tournament, and was one of the few types of military contests that had to be on horseback and involved only two combatants at a time. This one-on-one duel involved two men, each mounted, riding at each other with lances, attempting to unseat the other or break their lance. In some cases, a wooden barrier was placed the length of the lists to prevent the horses from colliding.

In the 12th century, jousting was sometimes not allowed because it distracted from the excitement of the other events, especially the mêlée, but Edward II of England in 1309 banned all forms of tournament except the joust. For him, it was more exciting to watch than the Pas d'armes or Tupinaire or Quintain, easier to see than the Mêlée because the men were higher off the ground and there were only two, a bit safer because there was a specific goal.

Some people spoke out against any form of tournament. Pope Innocent II at Clermont forbade Christian burial for anyone killed in a tournament. He was all for warfare against the heathen, but did not want Christians endangering each other's lives. And tournaments could be dangerous; just a few posts back we learned of someone dying because of a tournament. Henry II imposed a ban on tournaments because knights traveling from far and wide to join one were indulging in harassment of the population along the way. His son Richard, however, loved fighting, and established six locations where they were permitted to hold tourneys (and established a fee structure—payable to the Crown—for those who wanted to hold them and participate).

Richard's brother, John, and John's son, Henry III, made jousting more difficult with restrictions that encouraged safety but limited the excitement. Some of the rules that developed over time were necessary, to help figure out who won. After a day of pairs of knights going against each other, the winners could be declared as follows:

1st place: unhorsing the opponent; extra if the horse falls down.
2nd place: breaking lances
3rd place: most striking of the opponent's visor (this was particularly dangerous, but got you points)
4th place: breaking the most spears

There were also rules that could disqualify you:

Striking a horse
Striking a man's back from behind him

You could also be penalized for breaking your spear on the opponent's saddle (a forbidden target).

Some of the last tournaments and jousts took place during the reign of Henry VIII, who used elaborate ones to celebrate momentous events, such as the birth of a son.

Next time, I want to talk about Pope Innocent II and his Second Lateran Council that forbade jousts and tournaments.

Walter Langton

One of the Keepers of the Wardrobe for five years (1290 - 1295) under Edward I was Walter Langton (1243 - 1321). He used the surname Langton because he was from Langton in Leicestershire. He was born in 1243 and likely entered the church at a young age. His uncle, William Langton, was Dean of York in 1262, and Walter might have been raised by him. (William was elected Archbishop of York, but did not get the position because the pope wanted someone else.)

Walter in 1272 was a rector of a church in Yorkshire, and it may have been through the Lord Chancellor Robert Burnell (who was also Archdeacon of York) that King Edward I became aware of Langton. Edward made Langton Keeper of the Wardrobe and, it was said, relied on him as his closest confidant. When the debate arose over succession in Scotland after the death of Alexander III, Edward sent Langton to represent England's interests.

In 1295, Langton was made Treasurer until 1307 (Edward's death). He was also given several ecclesiastical benefices from which he could recieve revenues. In 1296 he was made Bishop of Lichfield and rebuilt his residence there, Eccleshall Castle, into a much grander building.

His increasing wealth made him a target of the Barons, who asked Edward to dismiss him. He was accused of simony, adultery, murder, and witchcraft. Although he went to Rome for trial, Pope Boniface VIII sent him back to the court of Archbishop of Canterbury Robert Winchelsey. Winchelsey was hostile to Langton, due to Langton's siding with the king over taxation of the clergy. Despite this attitude, he found Langton innocent of the charges.

Edward I supported his Treasurer and councillor even when Langton quarreled with the king's son, Edward Caernarvon. Langton was opposed (as were others) to the influence over the prince of Piers Gaveston. When Edward I died and the prince became King Edward II and Gaveston returned from exile, Langton knew his time was past. Langton was arrested, imprisoned, and his lands and movable property were seized. Pope Clement V tried to intervene on his behalf, but the Barons also were against him and he stayed in prison until 1312. He was returned to his post as Treasurer, but Parliament asked that he be dismissed in 1315. He died on 9 November 1321.

It was startling that Winchelsey found Langton innocent, when he could have taken the opportunity to eliminate a thorn in his side. Winchelsey was an enemy of Edward I and Edward II and spent 20 years fighting them. I'll tell you about him tomorrow.

Eleanor's Children

Eleanor of Castile, as Queen of England, wanted advantageous marriages for her children. She and Edward I had 16 or more, but although many marriages were proposed and arranged, only a few of the children achieved adulthood. Several of the first offspring died before even reaching double digits in age.

One named Eleanor (1269 - 1298) was the first child who survived to adulthood. She was betrothed to Alfonso III of Aragon (once mentioned here), but he died before the marriage could take place. She married Count Henry III of Bar. They had a son who succeeded his father as Count of Bar, and a daughter who married the 7th Earl of Surrey.

Joan (1272 - 1307) married twice. The first was Gilbert de Clare, who had fought against Edward and his father during the Second Barons' War and had overseen a massacre of Jews at Canterbury. After Gilbert died, she persuaded her father to knight one of Gilbert's squires, Ralph de Monthermer. Ralph was about the same age as Joan. Once he was knighted, Joan and Ralph secretly married. Edward found out a few months later and angrily had Ralph imprisoned. According to the chronicler Thomas Walsingham (writing at a much later date), Joan pleaded with her father:

No one sees anything wrong if a great earl marries a poor and lowly woman. Why should there be anything wrong if a countess marries a young and promising man?

This, and the intervention of the Bishop of Durham, Antony Bek, caused the king to relent. Ralph was released and officially name to Gilbert de Clare's old titles (that were inherited by Joan), making him jure uxoris (by right of wife) Earl of Gloucester and Hertford.

Margaret, their 10th child, was born in 1275 and died sometime after 1333. She married John the Peaceful, Duke of Brabant. John had one child with Margaret who succeeded him, and several illegitimate children who did not.

Elizabeth (1282 - 1316) John I, Count of Holland, when she was 15. John was born in 1284, and the marriage to Elizabeth was arranged in 1285. They tied the know in 1297 in Ipswich, after which they lived in Holland. He died in 1299, and she married Humphrey de Bohun, 4th Earl of Hereford. Humphrey was from a powerful family who would be a very loud voice against Elizabeth's brother...

Edward Caernarvon, their last child and the only male to survive past childhood. Plenty has been said about his rule, his lifestyle, his marriage to Isabella of France, and his death.

Instead, I will go back to Antony Bek, the Bishop of Durham who spoke to the king on behalf of Joan's marriage. He had a little trouble being loyal to both King Edward and the Archbishop of Canterbury, a story for tomorrow.

Rush Floors

We've read about medieval dwellings having rushes on the floors, in order to provide something soft and clean to walk on instead of the compacted earth that would constitute the floor in cottages. The cold stone floors of castles would also benefit from rush flooring. The accounts for King Edward II show a purchase of "a supply of rushes for strewing the King's chamber" from one John de Carlford. It was also used for the floors of churches, and the practice of rushbearing has been adopted as a modern festival at some churches.

Many different plants could provide these rushes, but a common one was the Acorus calamus, pictured here. To the Middle Ages it was "Sweet Flag," although it had many other names (since it grows on every continent except South America and Antarctica). The leaves are flat blades that can grow to a height of 79 inches, and emit a pleasant odor when crushed.

The use of Sweet Flag did not start in the Middle Ages. A papyrus dating to 1300BCE mentions it for use in perfumes. But rushes on the floor are thought of now as a medieval European practice. Was that practical?

Think of a pile of long-bladed plants strewn all over a dirt or stone floor. Sure, when crushed they emit a sweet aroma, but how high-stepping would you have to be in your own home to crush them and not have them catching on your feet and ankles? How deeply were they spread? Wouldn't they also provide an environment for vermin?

In a castle, the situation would be worse: high-born ladies in long gowns walking across rushes "strewn" about? The front of your floor-length gown would create a pile-up of rushes. Where's the sense in that? It's one thing to deal with it in a church which you visit for a short time once or twice each week, but in day-to-day living?

The Dutch philosopher Erasmus (1466 - 1536) makes the perils of rush floors clear. He lived in England for 15 years and complained about his time as a professor at Queens' College, Cambridge, for the lack of good wine. He wrote about England:

The [floors] are, in general, laid with white clay, and are covered with rushes, occasionally renewed, but so imperfectly that the bottom layer is left undisturbed, sometimes for twenty years, harbouring expectoration, vomiting, the leakage of dogs and men, ale droppings, scraps of fish, and other abominations not fit to be mentioned. Whenever the weather changes a vapour is exhaled, which I consider very detrimental to health. I may add that England is not only everywhere surrounded by sea, but is, in many places, swampy and marshy, intersected by salt rivers, to say nothing of salt provisions, in which the common people take so much delight I am confident the island would be much more salubrious if the use of rushes were abandoned, and if the rooms were built in such a way as to be exposed to the sky on two or three sides, and all the windows so built as to be opened or closed at once, and so completely closed as not to admit the foul air through chinks; for as it is beneficial to health to admit the air, so it is equally beneficial at times to exclude it.

I have to assume that his experience of rush floors was limited. Here he describes (I assume) a lower-class household (of which there were many, to be sure), but his rooms at Cambridge would not be like this, nor a well-to-do household that could afford the regular refreshing of rushes. We cannot argue with an eyewitness, but his experience of rushes might not be universal.

There's another theory; I will, however, string this discussion of rushes along to a third day, and present a picture of a much more efficient use of rushes and tell you where you can still get them for your floors today. See you here tomorrow.

The She-Wolf of France, Part 2

In 1325, Queen Isabella went to see her brother, King Charles IV of France, to negotiate over Charles' seizing of King Edward II's possessions on the continent. She was likely also very glad to get away from England, where Edward's close companion and new chamberlain, Hugh le Despenser the Younger, was making her miserable. She stayed there for some time with her son, Edward.

In Christmas 1325 she was still at her brother's court and encountered Roger Mortimer. Mortimer, 3rd Baron Mortimer of Wigmore and 1st Earl of March, had fled England after escaping from the Tower of London where he had been imprisoned for life after rebelling against Edward in the Despenser War. Rumors that Isabella and Mortimer developed a romantic relationship led them to leave the royal court. Each of them was married; Mortimer had gained great wealth and land through his wife.

According to the contemporary biographer who wrote the Vita Edwardi Secundi ("Life of Edward II"), Mortimer threatened to slit Isabella's throat if she returned to Edward. They first went to Flanders, then Isabella went to Ponthieu to raise troops and Mortimer (with Prince Edward) went to raise support in Hainault.

On 24 September 1326, Isabella and her son arrived back in England (see illustration). London allied with her, and Edward II fled westward, hiding out in Wales for a few weeks until he was captured on 16 November and imprisoned in Kenilworth Castle. A January 1327 Parliament was convened to discuss the situation, but they had a problem: there was no mechanism for removing a king. A delegation was sent to inform him that if he did not abdicate in favor of his son, his son might be disinherited and the kingship go to an alternate candidate. Edward chose to abdicate on 21 January. Edward II was crowned on 1 February.

In truth, the next few years in England were run by Isabella and Mortimer as regents for the young Edward. Their rule was not welcome by many of the barons, and the threat of civil war was never far away. Also, there were many lawyers and others who claimed Edward II was still king, and the chance that former supporters would try to restore him was not zero. Edward II was moved from Kenilworth to the more secure Berkeley Castle and put under the charge of Lord Berkeley. On 23 September, a message came from Berkeley that Edward had died from a "fatal accident." Rumors abounded: that Isabella had him killed; that Mortimer had him killed; that he had escaped and was hiding in disguise somewhere in Wales or on the continent. Edward's heart was given in a silver casket to Isabella. 

When Edward III came into his majority, Isabella's authority in the country faded, although as the king's mother she was treated well. Edward had Mortimer taken to the Tower, after which he was accused of assuming royal power improperly and other crimes. On 29 November 1330, he was taken from the Tower to Tyburn Hill and hanged. His wife was pardoned of any part in her husband's crimes, and all Mortimer's lands were taken by Edward.

Isabella wound up in Castle Rising in Norfolk with a yearly income of £3000, which rose to £4000 by 1337. Her lifestyle was lavish with plenty of staff and extras like minstrels. The She-Wolf who had turned on her husband and taken over a country doted on her children and grandchildren and became more interested in religion, making several visits to shrines. She eventually took the veil with the Poor Clares. When she died on 22 August 1358, she was buried at the Franciscan church at Newgate with the silver casket containing Edward's heart.

She survived the accusations of an improper relationship with Mortimer, but she knew well the dangers involved in female infidelity. In fact, she herself was intimately involved in a French royal scandal involving adultery. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the Tour de Nesle affair.

The She-Wolf of France, Part 1

Isabella of France (c.1295 - 1358) was a queen whose father and three brothers all became kings. Although she was used for a political marriage at an early age, she grew up understanding how to wield power of her own. So at a point when her husband, Edward II of England, was having yet more difficulties with his barons and relying more on the objectionable Hugh le Despenser the Younger, she decided to do something radical about the situation.

At the beginning of their marriage, to be fair, Edward had relied on his French in-laws for help, such as Isabella's uncle Louis of Évreux (who advised trying for a peaceful solution to the split among his barons after Gaveston's death). Edward even trusted Isabella with the Great Seal on occasion, as you will see.

During earlier problems with the barons, Isabella had gone to France to assure that the French would come to Edward's aid if a civil conflict broke out. Later tensions in England however, both political and personal, motivated Isabella to act against her husband. The Despensers convinced Edward to take control of the lands in Isabella's possession in 1324, giving him the taxes and leaving Isabella dependent on the king for her finances. She was forced to trim her retinue of many retainers and friends. Worse for Isabella, one of her ladies-in-waiting was Eleanor de Clare. A niece of Edward, Eleanor had been married to Hugh the Younger, making her a spy in Isabella's household, reporting on her communications.

As of 1321 she had still supported her husband and his faction (including the Despensers) against the faction led by Thomas of Lancaster. On a pilgrimage to Canterbury, she stopped by Leeds Castle, held by the king's steward who had allied himself with Lancaster. The steward was away, and his wife refused entry to the queen, causing a fight to break out between the two groups and resulting in the death of some of Isabella's guards. Historians believe this was staged as a casus belli, giving Edward a reason to answer the royal insult by besieging Leeds and teaching a lesson to his steward—on this occasion he left Isabella with the Great Seal and in charge of Chancery—placing the steward's wife and children in the Tower and executing 13 of the Leeds garrison.

This was the start of the Despenser War, in which the king and his allies fought barons led by Humphrey de Bohun and Roger Mortimer. It was relatively brief; within a year, Lancaster was captured and executed and the rest forced to surrender. Mortimer was sentenced to death, but the sentence was commuted to life imprisonment in the Tower. In August 1323, however, he escaped and fled to France. Warrants were put out for his return, dead or alive.

Isabella's brother Charles was now King Charles IV of France, and he seized England's possessions in France. Isabella went to France with Edward's blessing, ostensibly to ask her brother for peace. At Charles' court, however, she found none other than Roger Mortimer, who had been not long before on the "other side" of her political position. From helping her husband start a war to deal with his enemies, to becoming his enemy because she saw Edward's rule becoming increasingly inappropriate, seemed to be an easy shift for her.

The alliance between Isabella and Mortimer led to deposing Edward and crowning her son; details tomorrow.

Isabella of France

Isabella of France was the only surviving daughter of King Philip IV of France and Joan I of Navarre, promised to the Prince of Wales (later King Edward II) by the 1303 Treaty of Paris. That she was eight at the time was not unusual—Philip used all his children for political marriages—and the marriage itself did not take place until 25 January 1308, so that she was respectably a teenager. Ironically, the marriage was meant to cease hostilities between England and France, but its chief issue (Edward III) would produce both a claimant to the French throne and the Hundred Years War. There is evidence that Edward I would have preferred his son marry someone from Gascony, but the Treaty's terms tied his hands. As it is, the marriage did not take place until after Edward I's death.

She was raised in Paris, learning to read and developing a love of books (she may have been more literate than her husband). The records of her wardrobe indicate the wealth from which she came: dresses of velvet and taffeta, furs, 72 headdresses, over 400 yards of linen, and two gold crowns. She also brought to the marriage gold and silver dinnerware.

A contemporary chronicler called her "the beauty of beauties... in the kingdom if not in all Europe." Since her father was called le Bel ("the Fair") because of his looks, and her brothers were all described as handsome men, it is likely that her description was not just courtly flattery. Contemporaries also commented on her charm, her skill at persuasion, and her intelligence. It was specifically said that she took after her father, not her mother, who was said to be short and heavy.

Although she well understood the duties of a woman married for political expedience, she was likely annoyed at her new husband's preference for the company of certain others, such as Piers Gaveston and Hugh le Despenser the Younger. Although she and Piers are said to have made peace with each other, Hugh was less gracious, and her husband's increasing closeness to Hugh (after Gaveston's death) ultimately motivated her to return to France and raise an army to invade England and deal with her increasingly wayward husband.

Still, between 1312 and 1321, she bore him four children, one of whom succeeded Edward as king, one of whom became queen of Scotland. She also stood by his side through some difficult times with his barons, until Hugh le Despenser started deliberately giving her cause for anger and desire for revenge. Ultimately, she felt she had no choice to ally herself with others and invade England, deposing her husband and eliminating Despenser.

How she managed the invasion and earned the epithet "She Wolf of France" will be offered in more detail in the next post.

The Worst Briton

Hugh le Despenser the Younger was an able administrator and close friend and advisor of King Edward II, who had made Hugh his chamberlain. He was not well-liked, however, by many of the king's barons, nor by the general populace.

His problem was exercising too much power, so much so that he easily made enemies of powerful people. Moreover, the liberty with which he wielded authority—he was referred to as a "second king"—brought accusations against the king: that they were "too close." Hugh was accused of sodomy, a charge not even leveled at Piers Gaveston, of whom a modern age has no trouble assuming a homosexual relationship with Edward.

But Hugh had failed to do something that Gaveston had accomplished: treating Queen Isabella with respect. As chamberlain, he removed her children from her care, and mocked her for being French. As much as Edward's nobles may have hated the Despensers, the people also hated the influence on their king and the taxes promoted by his chamberlain. Some citizens of Coventry even hired a magician to kill the Despensers through sorcery.

Hugh was killed by ordinary means, however. Isabella partnered with Roger Mortimer to raise a force to rebel against her husband. Their assault on the king started in September 1326; in November, Edward and Hugh were captured. Edward was forced to abdicate in favor of his son, who became King Edward III.

Hugh was taken to Hereford. He began a hunger strike, perhaps hoping to die before what was liable to be a painful execution. On 24 November he had his trial in the market square in Hereford. He was charged with treason, of returning to England after banishment, of stealing (he had spent a part of his exile engaging in piracy), et cetera. The punishment for thievery was hanging; the punishment for treason was to be drawn and quartered.

He was stripped naked and dragged by horses to the walls of his own castle where a scaffold had been raised. There, in front of the populace as well as Isabella and Mortimer, he was hanged, drawn, and quartered. Jean Froissart, a French youth who came to Edward III's court, says Despenser's genitals were cut off and his entrails pulled out while he was still alive. Froissart was born after this event, however, and relies on an account by Jean le Bel, who was known for only relaying what he could learn by eyewitnesses. No contemporary English account mentions the castration, however.

Despenser's head was cut off and displayed in London. The rest of him was cut into four pieces and sent off display to Bristol, Dover, Newcastle, and York.

BBC History Magazine has labeled him the 14th century's worst Briton.

With the forced abdication of Edward II and elevation of his son Edward, Isabella was now mother to a 14-year-old king. She had proven herself to be able to take matters into her own hands and achieve bold results. Where did she come from, and what happened next for her? Let's take a close look at Isabella of France next time.

Those Despensers!

One of the complaints about King Edward II of England by his barons was that he took the wrong people into his confidence and acted on their advice. Much is made of the colorful and witty Piers Gaveston, who Edward's father had attached to his son's household while they were both young. Many historians allow discussing Gaveston's relationship with Edward to overshadow the influence on Edward of the Despensers.

Hugh le Despenser the Younger was a few years younger than Edward. Through no effort on his own part, he became extremely wealthy and powerful. The young king—who was known for treating friends and favorites well—gave him estates and castles. His marriage to Eleanor de Clare in summer of 1306 was partially arranged because her grandfather, Edward I, owed Hugh's father 2000 marks. The debt was considered paid by his marriage into a wealthy noble family. Since his wife was also niece of the new king, Hugh was even closer to the royal family.

Then her brother was killed in 1314 at the Battle of Bannockburn. Her brother was Gilbert, 8th Earl of Gloucester, and through Eleanor Hugh inherited one-third of the Gloucester estates. Landless when first knighted, in a few years he became one of the wealthiest knights in England.

A few years after Gaveston's death, Edward elevated Hugh to the important position of chamberlain. The older barons saw this as yet another instance of Edward forsaking them for younger and less suitable councillors.

Hugh was not careful with his authority, alienating Edward's queen, Isabella of France. He also vowed revenge on Roger Mortimer, whom Queen Isabella took into her confidence (and perhaps her bed), because Mortimer's grandfather had killed Hugh's grandfather. Hugh also was known to seize lands that were not his own, and cheating others of their properties. In August of 1321, the barons forced Hugh and his father, Hugh le Despenser the Elder, into exile. The Vita Edwardi Secundi ("Life of Edward the Second"), covering the years of Edward's reign up to 1326, says the Younger became a pirate in the English Channel during this time, "a sea monster, lying in wait for merchants as they crossed the sea."

Edward recalled the Despensers from exile, and they and their forces helped him to put down a rebellion, capture Mortimer, and execute one of Edward's harshest critics, Lancaster. The wheel of fortune turns, however, and there was no long and contented life ahead of Hugh. For details of his death, you will have to come back tomorrow.

The King's Favorite

In 1307, the Knights Templar were condemned in France by Philip IV and lost their possessions and lives. One of the accusations was that they indulged in sodomy. Sexual morality was a concern in Western European society, and accusations of perversion had great consequences for the accused.

A year later, Philip married his daughter, Isabella of France, to Edward II of England. Edward's letters to Isabella while he was away show affection. Later, however, his closeness to Piers Gaveston and Hugh Despenser the Younger became an issue: Edward spent his coronation feast in 1308 by Gaveston's side and not Isabella's. Isabella and Gaveston did form a relationship, and Edward and Isabella had children in 1312, 1318, 1321, and 1324.

Gaveston had many strikes against him in the barons' eyes: he was wittier than they, tended to give them unflattering nicknames, and was a better jouster. When Edward made the young man from Gascony Earl of Cornwall, there were many complaints about an earldom in foreign hands. His closeness to Edward meant Edward ignored the counsel of many more established men, although not all: Edward had plenty of well-respected men in positions of authority to run the kingdom.

But the barons' and Edward were in conflict during his entire reign, as was the case with his father's. When they decided that he needed to be deposed in favor of his eldest son (who would become Edward III), they drew up the Articles of Deposition (1327). There were six items:

1. That he is incompetent
2. That he won't listen to good counsel
3. That he lost Scotland (honestly, his father never gained Scotland, so to say he "lost" it...)
4. He has destroyed holy church (he actually built and supported many churches)
5. He has not done justice according to his coronation oath (see here)
6. He has done all he could to ruin his realm.

Curiously, no hint of improper sexual behavior.

The first hint of such comes 50 years later when a Cistercian in the abbey at Meaux accuses the king not of sodomy but of "too much sodomy." A contemporary historian, writing two years before Edward's death, refers to Edward's and Gaveston's relationship in comparison to David and Johnathan from the Old Testament, "a love which is said to have surpassed the love of women." That writer claims the hatred of Gaveston is because he was a foreigner and an upstart.

Did Edward and Gaveston have a homosexual relationship? It is certainly possible. Did they? Even those who hated Gaveston and killed him, and hated Edward and deposed him, never chose to accuse either of that sexual activity. The popularity of that view starts with Christopher Marlowe (1564 - 1593), and has provided fodder for controversy among historians ever since. The illustration is a 19th century painting showing the two cavorting while courtiers look on in concern. People can (and do) read into the facts whatever conclusion they prefer.

But those Despensers? So despised that devout Christians would even hire a magical hitman to eliminate them? Let's find out what they were guilty of next time.

King on the Run

Piers Gaveston, close friend and favorite of King Edward II, was exiled from England three times: once by Edward's father and twice by Edward's nobles, but he never stayed away long. He was twice recalled by his friend, but the third time it seems he returned surreptitiously on his own.

His third and final exile leaves us with questions: he was not allowed to be in any of England's possessions, so he could not go to Ireland (the location of his second exile), and could not be in Aquitaine or his home of Gascony. Whatever the case, after only two months of absence, he showed up in England about Christmas 1311, and seems to have joined the king on 11 January, traveling with him to his estates at Tintagel and Wallingford. A week later, in defiance of the Ordinances of 1311, Edward boldly restored all of Gaveston's lands and titles (such as Earl of Cornwall) and declared the reasons for the exile unlawful.

What happens next isn't called a civil war, which usually describes a country divided. In fact, there was very little division: it was simply Edward and Gaveston against almost everyone else. Archbishop Winchelsey of Canterbury excommunicated Gaveston. The nobles, led by Lancaster, assembled for war and some were charged with arresting Gaveston. On 4 May, Edward and Gaveston were together at Newcastle and had to flee Lancaster's forces so rapidly that Edward left behind his treasury and household goods and his pregnant wife! The two split up, Edward heading to York (possible to try to muster some military forces) and Gaveston went to his castle of Scarborough and fortified it. A large force led by four nobles besieged Scarborough, and Gaveston surrendered to them on 19 May under conditions.

The earls of Pembroke, Warenne, and Percy swore to keep him safe while they took him to York to negotiate with the king over his (maybe for real this time) "final" fate. Pembroke went further, pledging to give up his lands and titles if he did not honor the promise of safe conduct. They met with the king and then, since they needed to negotiate with the rest of the ruling class, it was decided that Pembroke would keep custody of Gaveston and take him south. In June, however, while stopping in Deddington, Pembroke decided to spend a night with his wife, who was 12 miles away. He left Gaveston and some guards at a rectory.

Warwick, whom Gaveston had insulted by calling him a "black dog," learned that Gaveston was in Deddington. He surrounded the rectory and took custody of Gaveston—caught him sleeping, in fact, and arrested him before he was fully dressed—and took him to his castle at Warwick. Pembroke, who had chivalrously promised safe conduct for Gaveston with a huge penalty to himself if he failed of his oath, felt that he had been dishonored by Warwick and appealed to have Gaveston returned to his care. No one was willing to support his side; not even Gloucester, whose sister was Gaveston's wife.

The Earls of Warwick, Lancaster, Hereford, and Arundel gathered at Warwick and condemned Gaveston to death for violating the terms of his last exile. As technically the Earl of Cornwall and brother-in-law of the Earl of Gloucester, it was decided that he deserved a "nobleman's death" by being beheaded. On 19 June he was dragged to Blacklow Hill on Lancaster's land, and while the earls watched from a distance (except the "black dog" Warwick, who was apparently simply content to know that the execution was taking place), two Welsh soldiers handled the matter: one stabbed him with a sword and the second struck his head off. (The illustration above  represents Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, standing over the beheaded corpse of Gaveston.)

The head was taken to Lancaster. The body was left there where it lay. As an excommunicate, Christian burial was denied him. The corpse was eventually taken in by some Dominicans (Edward was a patron of theirs), and the king paid them for maintaining it while proper interment could be arranged. Edward finally procured a papal absolution in 1315, allowing him to bury his friend with an elaborate ceremony at the Dominican priory. The tomb has since been lost.

Many scholars cannot mention Gaveston as Edward's "friend" without adding the phrase "and lover." What was the precise nature of their relationship? No one knows for sure, but we can look at what little evidence we have of their relationship and make our own guesses. Join me here next time for some creative conjecture. 

An Interpreted Oath

The coronation of Edward II on 25 February 1308 was marked by controversy. It was delayed a week, probably because Winchelsey, Archbishop of Canterbury, was ill, and Edward wanted him to perform the ceremony. The ceremony had to proceed finally with the Bishop of Winchester. The crown and sword in the procession were carried by Piers Gaveston, the king's favorite, whose behavior bothered many of the barons. When the masses entered Westminster Hall for the feast, prominent on the wall were new tapestries displaying the arms of Edward and Gaveston. The arms of Edward's new wife, Isabella, are not mentioned by reports. It is reported that throughout the feasting the new king spent time with Gaveston, not Isabella.

The coronation oath, which Edward took in French—a Latin version was available, but since the entire court spoke French, it made sense to forsake the Latin—contained a fourth clause whose ambiguity led to much discussion. This clause had been added by the barons to create a special obligation for Edward. (This clause remains in the oath even now.) It states that the king would "uphold and defend the laws and the righteous customs which the community of your realm should determine."

The debate began over the composition of the "community." The barons insisted they were the community, and that they would determine the "laws and righteous customs." That was the obligation that they invoked when objecting to Edward's favor of Gaveston. They pressured Edward until, on 18 May 1308, he avoided civil war by signing letters patent that stripped Gaveston of his titles and exiled him from England by 25 June. Archbishop Winchelsey weighed in, promising to excommunicate Gaveston if he failed to quit England.

Edward didn't leave his friend high and dry: he appointed him Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, gave him blank royal charters, and gave him a royal send-off from Bristol. Gaveston was no fool: he proved to be a competent and generous lieutenant, and suppressed a couple rebellions. His time in England was not over, either: when the barons presented Edward with a list of demands at the Parliament of 27 April 1309, Edward promised to grant them their desires...if he were allowed to bring back Gaveston.

Gaveston was in no way chastised by his exile, and his return brought with it a return of the behavior objectionable to the peerage. A further set of demands made of Edward, the Ordinances of 1311, included Gaveston's exile again, under penalty of outlawry if he should return. But return he did in late 1311, setting off his excommunication.

The nobles of England were all too happy to put their resources into finding and capturing him. Some of his enemies acted honorably, some not. The story includes a king and a criminal "going on the run," and I'll share it with you next time.

Piers Gaveston

When Edward Caernarvon was crowned King Edward II of England, on 25 February 1308, the Earl of Cornwall carried the crown and sword in the procession. Nothing unusual about that, but that evening at the feast eyebrows were raised when the Earl wore royal purple, a color usually reserved for the king, rather than the "formal-wear" cloth of gold of the rest of the court.

Piers Gaveston was born about 1284, son of a Gascon knight, Arnaud Gaveston. Although later critics complained that Piers had been "raised up from nothing," his family was not unknown. Arnaud's tomb is in Winchester Cathedral, and the carving shows his legs crossed, indicating that he went on Crusade.

We do not know details about Piers' early life, but Edward I considered it appropriate to appoint him to the prince's household. (The illustration shows Ian McKellen as Edward and James Laurenson as Gaveston in the 1970 Edward II.) Later reports suggest that he was very accomplished and clever, but that was not always a benefit under the circumstances:

The baronage of England, moreover, did not take kindly to a royal favourite who could unhorse them in the lists, and who could also pierce the armour of their dignity with his barbed Gascon wit. It is difficult today to understand why the tough barons of fourteenth-century England were so incensed at the nicknames invented for them, and it is equally difficult to appreciate the Gascon's wit. [Edward II, Harold Hutchinson, p.57]

Sticks and stones might have broken their bones, but names apparently really rankled the rest of the barons and courtiers. Thomas of Lancaster, the king's cousin, was called "a fiddler"; the Earl of Pembroke, Aymer de Valence, a respected member of Edward I's court, was nicknamed "Joseph the Jew"; Warwick was called the "black dog of Arden"; Warwick and Gaveston's relationship would climax in a deadly manner.

An annoying member of the court could be ignored under some circumstances, but this one was an especial favorite of the new king. That relationship allowed him to abuse his fellow lords with impunity—for a time. As it happens, the barons were able to deal with Gaveston in part because of the king's own coronation oath, which included a phrase that was ambiguous enough it could be interpreted in their favor. How that worked out, and other reasons why they were so opposed to Gaveston, are a story for next time.

Like Father, Like Son

When King Edward I of England was a teenager, he chose to side with his father's critics. His father, Henry III, refused to speak to his son once the immediate crisis was over, but he needed Edward as his heir, so eventually Edward became king.

When Edward's son, Edward Caernarvon, was young, he, too, chose to oppose his father, angering the king so that he refused to speak to his son, "exiling" him away from home (but not far). Here is what happened.

The young Edward had accompanied his father on military campaigns, even negotiating with Scottish leaders on the king's behalf. When his mother died and his father re-married (to Margaret, the sister of King {Philip[p IV of France), the young man got along with his stepmother and his two half-brothers that the king had with her. (Later, as king, he even gave them titles and financial support.)

But he was profligate in his ways. Even when he was made Prince of Wales in 1301 (shown in the illustration) and granted the earldom of Chester, giving him his own source of income through taxation, he spent too lavishly. He was criticized as being too much addicted to gambling, especially "pitch and toss" (which we now call "pitching pennies," in which players toss coins at a mark; the one whose coin lands nearest the mark wins all the coins). He was also criticized for sleeping late and keeping the company of harlots (curious, considering later accusations about his behavior with his close friend, Piers Gaveston).

The prince clashed with one of his father's closest fiends and royal treasurer, Bishop Walter Langton, over his financial support. The king sided with his treasurer (he later made Langton executor of his will), and the details of the clash were so serious that the prince and his companions were banished from the court and orders were given (on 14 June 1305) to the Exchequer to refuse any requests for funds by the prince. The precise nature of the clash with Langton is unconfirmed. One record states that the prince had trespassed on lands owned by the bishop and hunted deer; when found out, he abused and insulted Langton.

Would just an insult be enough for what turned into a six-month banishment and financial deprivation? It is possible: Sir William de Braose just a few months later was accused of "contumelious words" against royal judges during a court case, and was given a sentence that was said to be "similar to the king's son." So possibly King Edward and the courts took a very dim view of verbal assaults. There are also—and no one who has learned anything about Edward II would be surprised—hints that the original trespass involved the prince's companion, Piers Gaveston.

Was Gaveston such a bad influence that his presence would make things worse? If he were in the prince's household, he must be a person himself of some standing. Let's take a look at Piers Gaveston next time, and try to separate fact from fiction.

Edward Caernarvon

Edward Caernarvon (princes were named for the location of their birth) was born 25 April 1284 to Edward I and Eleanor, Countess of Ponthieu. Although their fourth son, his older brothers John and Henry died prior to Edward's birth, and Alfonso died a few months later. Edward senior had conquered Wales in the previous year, and there is speculation that he chose Caernarvon Castle for the birth to symbolically link Wales to the English royal family, making the younger Edward "their prince." He was given the title "Prince of Wales" in 1301, the first non-Welsh ruler to be called so.

His tutor was Sir Guy Ferre, who gave him a keen interest in horses, both riding and breeding. He also enjoyed hunting, and one of the first books on hunting, The Art of Venerye, was written by Edward's royal huntsman.

Edward's household had books in French and Latin, but we can't be certain he read and wrote those languages. He would have been raised speaking French, and for his coronation he chose to take the oath in French, although a Latin version was available.

He also took a great interest in music, and was a patron of musicians and entertainers during his reign. He enjoyed the Welsh crwth, a proto-violin, and as king sent one of his people, Richard the Rhymer, to learn how to play it. Contemporary authorities did not approve of his love of buffoonery, and Edward's later appointment of Walter Reynolds as an archbishop is said to be due to Reynolds' skill as an actor.

His youth, like that of his father, made some observers question whether he would make a good king. Also, like his father, he went through a period when he took sides in a problem, causing the king to refuse to speak to his son and heir. That dispute, and why King Edward was "forced" to start speaking to his son again, will be explained tomorrow.

Curing Disease

The Royal Touch was not just for scrofula, nor was it just a simple touch.

Epilepsy was another disease that would bring folk to the king for healing; and like scrofula, it was a disease whose symptoms were irregular and could end spontaneously. It was actually King John who started the practice of blessing rings on Easter Sunday and hand them out as a cure for epilepsy.

Speaking of handing things out, Kings Edward I, II, and III of England would give a gift of alms to anyone who traveled a long distance to see them (as well as tokens as part of the Royal Touch ritual). It was not a huge sum, but also not an amount you'd stick in your pocket and forget. Because records were kept of royal expenses and alms, those reigns have accurate data on how many people received alms.

We know, therefore, that the reigns of the Edwards averaged about 500 healing rituals per year. Edward I "healed" as many as 1736 in one high-yield year, whereas Edward III only touched 136 one year. Keep in mind that the Third spent a good amount of his reign attacking France during the Hundred Years War, so he wasn't always available at home. Edward II did not spend much of his time in battles, and there was a lot of variation in his annual healing numbers.

The process was also slowed down during Edward II's reign (1307 - 1327) because it was more formalized:

The sick individual was brought before the king and then kneeled in front of the monarch. The king touched the face and cheeks of the afflicted person while a chaplain announced that "He put his hand upon them, and he healed them." The chaplain’s words referred to a passage in the Gospel of Mark 16:18 in which Jesus, speaking to his disciples after the resurrection, suggests that the disciples will have healing powers. Many people believed that the disease was brought on by sin, so prayers were central to the ceremony. [link]

The afflicted would then be given a "touch piece," a gold coin that could be worn around the neck to continue to keep them healthy. The illustration shows the touch piece given by Henry VI (reigned 1422 - 1471). The generosity of the gold coin and the Royal Touch together would enhance the reputation of the king as well as reinforce the notion of divine authority.

So if Edward II wasn't away at war, he could have endeared himself to his people with lots of healings. What was he doing with his time? That's a complicated question, but we will see what we can do about it tomorrow.

The Great Famine of 1315-1317

In 1315, Europe's spring rains never stopped.

The rains kept coming, flooding the fields. Crop failures followed, lasting right through until the summer harvests of 1317. Full recovery took another several years. Hunger and disease devastated the population. People starved; cannibalism is hinted at in records; there is some evidence that parents might have abandoned children to fend for themselves. (The story of Hansel and Gretel may have originated in a famine: the children have been cast out by the parents during a famine.) Records of the city of Bristol report

...such mortality that the living could scarce suffice to bury the dead, horse flesh and dog's flesh was accounted good meat, and some eat their own children. The thieves that were in prison did pluck and tear in pieces, such as were newly put into prison and devoured them half alive. [link]

Harvests were not the only casualty. Marshland that had been reclaimed for crops or grazing was returned to marshland. Constantly wet ground—and a lack of forage—is not good for livestock. Disease killed off cows and sheep. Records from Ramsey Abbey show one manor going from 48 cows to only 2 at this time.

Villages themselves physically suffered. Not only were some abandoned due to dying population and un-tillable soil, but some coastal villages disappeared. The rains and storms reclaimed shoreline communities. One of the wealthiest ports in England, Dunwich, lost almost 300 houses, barns, and shops. 

Of course, prices soared. Edward II stopped at St. Albans on 10 August 1315, and there was not enough bread for him and his entourage; he tried to freeze food prices (in Lorraine, wheat prices rose by 320%), but vendors simply refused to sell for so little, and Parliament overturned the king's decree in 1316. What grain there was was wet, and needed to be dried before using, but it resulted in a poorer quality product. People were forced to consume the grain hey had set aside for planting the following year. Begging and stealing became rampant. Groups of roaming peasants looking for work and food were common, having abandoned their farms and villages.

What caused this weather? Well, like the volcanic winter of c.536, a likely candidate is the 1314 eruption of Mount Tarawera in New Zealand spewing ash into the atmosphere that precipitated rain for two years. Also, this all took place just after the Medieval Warm Period, a three-century span of milder temperatures that were ideal for agriculture; this coincided with a boom in population—a population that could not be maintained when harvests became so poor.

It's been over ten years since I had anything to say about the Medieval Warm Period. I think it's time for another look. See you tomorrow.

The Temple Inn

After the Knights Templar were dissolved in 1312, Pope Clement V wanted all their property turned over to the Knights Hospitallers. King Edward II of England, however, claimed their properties in England for the Crown. The Templar properties in London included several buildings along the banks of the Thames, some of which were consecrated. Edward granted those for Hospitaller use, and made them pay for the non-consecrated buildings.

The Hospitallers were not so large and expanding that they needed the space, and so it is likely that they used it as income, renting it as living/work space. Tradition says that there were lawyers living there in the 1340s, but a formal educational institution cannot be proved...although there is a recorded incident in 1339 when "a man was killed in the Temple by a servant of the apprentices of the king’s court, which suggests that they may already have formed a community there." [link] In 1388, both "Inner Temple" and "Middle Temple" are specifically named in documents. The picture above is a mezzotint from 1826 showing dinner in the hall of one of the Temples.

Another incident involving the Temple is confirmed during the Peasants Revolt in 1381 (most recently summarized here, but also found in much more detail throughout this blog). The rebels tore down the Inner Temple hall and several houses before burning down the Savoy. When the building was torn down in 1868, it was noted that the roof used 14th century construction methods that would have been unavailable to the Templars.

Wat Tyler's followers supposedly were happy to destroy all the legal records they could find. It is true that no records exist from the 1300s, but neither do any exist from the 1400s. No formal records exist for any of the Inns of Court prior to 1500, except for Lincoln's Inn whose Black Books begin in 1422. The 1500s saw significant expansion of the Inns and their population and influence on English law.

Our brief history of the Temple after it was taken from the Templars is done, but what of the Hospitallers? When did they give it up? What happened to them? Let's look at that tomorrow.

Thomas Lost a Treasure

This is about Thomas, the 2nd Earl of Lancaster. He was born about 1278 to Edmund Crouchback (the second son of King Henry III). His life was not without problems.

He had an unsuccessful marriage to Alice de Lacy. They had no children, although Thomas fathered two illegitimate sons. Alice was abducted in 1317 by a knight under the Earl of Surrey. Thomas divorced Alice and started a conflict with Surrey which was ended by King Edward II. During the coronation of King Edward II, Thomas carried the royal sword Curtana in the procession. Like many nobles, however, he turned against Edward when Edward showed favor to Piers Gaveston, reputed to be the king's male lover.

Thomas led two revolts against Edward. One, in 1310, led to Parliament putting limits on Edward's spending. The second, in 1321, led to defeat and his execution for treason on 22 March, 1322.

Thomas had been given Tutbury Castle, which he renovated and made into his primary residence. His presence benefitted the surrounding countryside, stimulating the local economy. The famous Tutbury Hoard—the largest collection of found coins in history—was so large it must have come from his treasury. Historians assume he had gathered it to pay his allies and Scottish mercenaries, probably during his second revolt against the king. It was lost while crossing the River Dove, however, leaving it to be found by workmen in 1831.

But poor Alice! In her life she was married three times, abducted, widowed twice, imprisoned, raped, and had her in hesitance stolen. I'll tell you more about her next.

Hiring a Magical Hitman

The year was 1324. King Edward II of England was making a mess of things with his apathetic and arbitrary approach to ruling the kingdom. He handed a lot of authority to the powerful Despensers, his chamberlain Hugh the Younger, and Hugh the Elder.

(Prop wax doll from the movie
The Witches of Eastwick

In Coventry, a group of citizens were very unhappy with their local Prior, who had the authority of the Despensers behind him as he taxed the citizenry at exorbitant rates. Twenty-eight citizens of Coventry decided to do something about this situation. They lacked any military or governmental power, so they had to find an alternate solution. They found it in John of Nottingham.

John of Nottingham had a reputation as a magician. He was asked if he could eliminate the causes of their misery. John agreed to bring about the deaths of the Prior of Coventry, King Edward II, Hugh Despenser the Elder, Hugh Despenser the Younger, and (for good measure) the Prior's caterer and the Prior's steward. To do so, he and his assistant, Robert Marshall, used seven pounds of wax and two yards of cloth to fashion wax effigies of the targets.

This took time, and it wasn't until 1325 that he was ready to test his method by experimenting on a certain Richard de Lowe, a Coventry citizen who was apparently expendable. The experiment worked, according to later reports: the wax effigy of Richard de Lowe was stuck with lead pins in the head and heart, and Richard died shortly thereafter.

Unfortunately, when the hypothetical experiment became real, Robert Marshall lost his nerve and turned his boss in to the authorities—or maybe he turned against John for other reasons. The case came before the King's Bench (the English superior court) that year, with John of Nottingham and all 28 citizens as defendants for the murder of Richard de Lowe. The King's bench would not, however, rule that the evidence for magical murder was sufficient to convict, and John of Nottingham was declared innocent.