The Greatest Traitor: The Life of Sir Roger Mortimer, 1st Earl of March (45 page)

Roger’s unpopularity was now widespread. Several contemporary chroniclers refer to his pride, and reflect suspicions that he was about to seize the crown for himself. The
Anonimalle Chronicle
states that Roger ‘usurped royal power and great treasure and had thought to overthrow the king’.
⁴⁴
The
French Chronicle of London
says that the huge host of Welsh and English men-at-arms following Roger wrought great destruction wherever they went, so that there was not a woman, wife or girl who had not been ‘played with’ in all the country through which they passed.
⁴⁵
Although both canons of St Paul’s writing in the 1320s and 1330s were distant and objective about the Earl of March, they said nothing in his defence. The author of the
longer
Brut
particularly disliked Roger, stating that he was ‘so proud and high that he held no lord of the realm his equal’. The chronicler also claimed that he was covetous, and let his servants eat at the same table as the king’s servants, and he allowed himself to eat from the same plate as the king, and to share carriages with him.
⁴⁶

The court moved north from Gloucester in July. Roger knew there were plots against him everywhere, and he sought to root out all conspirators. But the principal coordinators of the movement now forming against him were very careful men. By the time the court reached Northampton at the end of July, Montagu had sounded out and recruited several reliable supporters. He was able to tell Edward that he had a body of men who were prepared to act. It seems, however, that the king was still very cautious about removing Roger, and one chronicle states that Montagu had to persuade Edward to agree to action, saying to him that it was ‘better to eat the dog than be eaten by the dog’.
⁴⁷
Edward assented, acknowledged his friend was right, but urged that they bide their time.

Roger’s spies were hard at work. By the time the court arrived at Nottingham Castle, perched on a rock above the town, Roger knew that there was a new plot afoot. Some men were suggesting that he be prosecuted for the murder of the king’s father, and that a legal means be found to remove him. John Wyard and his fellow spies reported back to Roger that some of the king’s friends were holding secret meetings and discussing action against him. All September Roger worked at establishing who was doing what and which plots were being hatched in the town below. But cocooned by his bodyguard, and cut off on his rock, there was little he could do but wait for his spies to bring him news. Little official business was transacted. When Henry of Lancaster arrived in preparation for the parliament that was to be held in mid-October, and sought accommodation in the castle as befitting his rank, Roger angrily demanded to know who had let so dangerous an enemy of Queen Isabella be housed so close to her? To the fury of the earl, who had lost his sight since his rebellion against Roger, he was moved out of the castle and down into the town. Roger told Isabella to take the keys of the castle into her own keeping, and ordered the guards to obey his orders before those of the king. Like Edward, Roger trusted no one but his own close friends.

By 15 October, when Parliament was due to meet, Roger and the court had been in the town for six weeks, and the tension had not abated. Was the forthcoming assembly going to be a show trial like the last? Was the Earl of Lancaster to be the victim this time? Or were Roger’s spies pointing to someone else? Everyone understood that the next few days would be crucial. The king and his close friends had to move fast.

Roger himself precipitated the final confrontation. From his spies he knew that some of the king’s friends, including William de Montagu, were accusing him of the murder of the king’s father in Berkeley Castle. Roger, ‘as a devil for wrath’, summoned each of them to him.
⁴⁸
One by one he interrogated them: Montagu, Edward de Bohun (whom Roger had recently rewarded for his support), Ralph Stafford, Robert Ufford, William Clinton and John Neville.
⁴⁹
All remained silent, except Montagu, who denied strenuously that there was any plot afoot. Without further evidence, Roger let them go, to have them watched and to lure them into providing him with the proof he needed. But this time the men he was dealing with were the cream of the young generation of knights at court. They were quick-witted and active, and had been bred on Roger’s own prescribed diet of loyalty and courage. Most importantly, they were men whom Roger wanted to believe would not betray him, as they were sons of his old comrades in arms. But while Roger might have given them the benefit of the doubt on this occasion, they for their part could not risk being interrogated a second time.

On or just before the third day of the parliament Montagu was approached by a local man, William Eland. He had grown up at the castle, he told Montagu, and he knew all the passages through the rock on which the castle was built. One particular secret tunnel led out of the castle and into the park. Despite Isabella having taken the keys, and despite Roger doubling the guards on the castle gates, and ordering that his commands alone were to be obeyed, it was still possible to get inside the fortress, and even to get into the royal apartments, through these subterranean passages. There was a door, bolted, at the top of the tunnel, but Edward himself could undo the bolt and allow his men in. Montagu was struck by the tremendous opportunity this presented, and sent a message to Edward immediately. No one was to try to enter the castle, he said, without first consulting him.
⁵⁰

On the evening of 19 October, after the gates to the castle had been secured, Edward asked to leave the hall, claiming he was unwell. His physician, Pancio de Controne, agreed that he should go to his chamber, and went with him.
⁵¹
He and his physician pretended he was ill until Roger and Isabella and their supporters had withdrawn from the hall and retired to Isabella’s chamber to discuss what was to be done about the conspirators who now faced them. Sir Hugh de Turpington was with them. So too were Sir Simon Bereford, Oliver Ingham and Bishop Burghersh. Squires and household officers were about in the candlelit corridor leading to the royal chambers. But the guards were outside, in the bailey, on the walls and at the gates. The castle was on high alert, but not in a state of alarm.

Meanwhile, in the park below the castle, in the pitch dark, two dozen men gathered, led by Sir William de Montagu. They had publicly left Nottingham that afternoon, pretending they were fleeing Roger’s investigation; but they had come back in the moonless dark. They were waiting for more men to join them. As they waited, tense, in the cold, they decided their fellows had got lost. It would be just the few of them who would attack. Montagu gave the order to William Eland, and they moved in the direction of the castle.

Eland led them to the foot of the crag on which the castle was built, and felt his way through the tunnel within. The men moved with caution, and as silently as they could. Up above in the castle itself, Isabella’s old clerk, Robert Wyvill, who had also been recruited by Montagu, came to the king to tell him that Roger and Isabella and their council were in her chamber. Perhaps he also said that the signal at the door to the secret tunnel had been given. Edward stopped feigning illness, got off his bed, and slipped out into the corridor. He pulled back the drawbar on the door to the tunnel and admitted the armed and determined figure of John Neville, mace in hand, followed by William Eland, Montagu and the others.

Suddenly Sir Hugh de Turpington came around the corner and saw them. ‘Traitors!’ he yelled, drawing his sword, and despite the numbers facing him he charged them, shouting, to warn Roger, ‘It is for nought that you enter this castle! All of you shall die an evil death here!’ And with that he hurled himself at the foremost of them, household squires following his voice, terrified in the candlelight. In Isabella’s chamber, Roger hastily drew his sword and hastened out into the corridor. But, before he could do anything, Sir Hugh de Turpington, his lifelong comrade, was struck on the head by Neville’s mace, collapsing under the blow. Richard de Monmouth, the squire who had escaped with Roger from the Tower and who had faithfully served him for the last seven years, was the next to go down defending his lord. There was no hope of holding back the assailants. As Robert de Walkefare struck down an usher, Richard de Crombek, the leading knights pushed past and fell on Roger. Isabella, realising her son had betrayed them, knew that all was lost. ‘Fair son,’ she screamed out into the dark corridor, ‘have pity on the gentle Mortimer! Do not harm him, he is a worthy knight. Our beloved friend, our dear cousin.’
⁵²

Roger was overpowered, bound and gagged. Behind him, Isabella was forced back into her chamber and placed under guard. Montagu, or one of his men, made a quick search of the chamber and found Bishop Burghersh trying to climb down the latrine chute. He was told that he was
in no danger. Bereford and Ingham, however, were placed under arrest, also bound and gagged, and led down through the passage out of the castle with Roger. Meanwhile a few men had gone to the chamber of Sir Geoffrey Mortimer. They entered and told him his father had been arrested, and that he too was under arrest. He followed them quietly.

In the course of a single night, Roger and several of his key advisers had been apprehended and silenced. Isabella had been isolated, and placed under guard in her chamber. After all the failed, carefully prepared large-scale plots, twenty-four knights had managed to surprise Roger and arrest him in a hastily contrived attack. The difference had been the king’s support. Edward now saw a clear path towards power. He would claim that his father had indeed been murdered in Berkeley Castle, and that Roger had perpetrated the deed. If his father dared to present himself in public, Edward would face the problem squarely, not as a dependant of Roger Mortimer but as a rightful king, who had assumed the throne in good faith and who had the support of his knights and the trust of the realm.

Edward had at last inherited his royal power.

*

Roger was removed from Nottingham that same night and taken by the king to Leicester. There Edward wanted him to be hanged immediately, but the Earl of Lancaster persuaded him that Roger should be judged in Parliament. Writs were hastily despatched requiring that the lords gather in London. Accordingly Roger was sent to the Tower, where six king’s men-at-arms were ordered to watch him.
⁵³

Parliament heard the charges against Roger at Westminster on Monday 26 November 1330.
⁵⁴
There was never any doubt about the outcome. This was the show trial of the show trial king, the condemnation of the chief prosecutor of the reign, and the execution of a dictator. The only real question was how he would die: like Despenser on a high gallows, or more mercifully, by an axe, like the Earl of Kent.

Roger was led, bound and gagged, into the same hall in which he had feasted after he had been knighted, which he had known since his youth.
⁵⁵
Unable to speak, he was accused of fourteen crimes:

1. Ignoring the royal council of regency and taking royal power and full government himself, appointing and sacking ministers in the king’s household, and sending John Wyard to spy on the king;

2. Removing Edward II illegally from Kenilworth Castle and having him murdered at Berkeley;

3. Using his royal power to grant himself the title of Earl of March, and to force the king to march against the Earl of Lancaster;

4. Using his royal power to keep the Earl of Lancaster and other advisers away from the king, and banishing others from the realm contrary to Magna Carta;

5. Luring the Earl of Kent into a treasonable plot and procuring his death;

6. Using his royal power to grant himself, his children and his supporters castles, towns, manors, and franchises in England, Ireland and Wales;

7. Raising money for a Gascon war through a Parliamentary grant which he had then spent himself;

8. Using his royal power to take the fines and ransoms paid by individual knights who did not want to serve personally in his fictitious Gascon war;

9. Falsely and maliciously putting discord between Edward II and Isabella, and ‘for saying to her that if she had gone to him (Edward) he would have killed her with a knife or murdered her in some other way’;

10. Using his royal power to enrich himself and his supporters with money and jewels from the royal treasury;

11. Using his royal power to appropriate to himself the twenty thousand marks paid by the Scots for their sovereignty;

12. Gathering many knights and men-at-arms at court, so the king was surrounded by enemies;

13. Using his royal power to grant two hundred pardons to men of Ireland who had killed great men loyal to the Crown; and

14. Acting to destroy the king’s supporters and his closest advisers, and ordering at Nottingham that his word should be obeyed rather than that of the king.
⁵⁶

Roger was then told he had been found guilty of these crimes ‘and many others which are not listed here’ by the earls, barons and peers. These accusations were ‘notorious and known for their truth to you and all the realm’. Having been adjudged guilty he was sentenced ‘as a traitor and enemy of the king and of the realm, to be drawn and hanged’.

Three days later Roger was taken from his cell in the Tower. He was dressed in the same black tunic he had worn at the funeral of Edward II. He was placed on an ox-hide, tied to two horses, and dragged all the way along the uneven roads between the Tower and Tyburn, a distance of
nearly two miles. The cuts and grazes must have been numerous; the bone-breaking bumps, ditches and stones in the road must have made him feel that, by the time he heard the crowds at Tyburn, he was half-dead already. But he was still alive, and was able to make a speech to the crowd in which he confessed that the Earl of Kent had been the victim of a conspiracy. What was left of his tunic was then stripped off him, leaving him naked. Psalm 52 was read to him: ‘Why do you boast in mischief, O mighty man? The goodness of God endures for ever. The tongue devises mischiefs, like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. You love evil more than good, and lies more than honesty …’ Then a rope was placed around his neck, and over the beam of the thieves’ gallows, and he was lifted off his feet into the air. Within a few minutes he was dead.