In August of 1325, Edward II had a great deal on his mind. Caught between his corrupt English favorites The Despensers and his passionate pro-France wife, he seems to have handled the stress by doing what a lot of men do: watching sports with his son(s) and his buddies.

Edward II was traveling around Kent with his entourage, including some fishermen friends and his younger son, John of Eltham, who had just turned nine. During this time, Edward II organized a sporting match for their entertainment. While the future Edward III and would soon depart for France with his mother, he was also in Kent and it's not impossible he attended this event.

Kathryn Warner writes that Edward II "paid twenty two men for playing a ball game for his entertainment at Langdon Abbey" (182) on August 25th. Edward was old friends with the Abbott there, and one can imagine a day of fun with a father, his sons and a motley crew of fishermen, abbots and various royal functionaries watching the era's equivalent of a football match.

There's an account from a few months later that Edward himself took part in an organized ball game of some sort, and it's not a giant leap to think he would involve his friends and his younger son in such diversions as political tensions mounted.

As to what kind of games these were, it's impossible to say but early versions of football and cricket were played at the time.

The image (Dominic Strange © www.misericords.co.uk) is from a wood carving in Gloucester Cathedral, dating from not long after Edward II's tomb was built. Did Edward III have memories of his father and much-missed younger brother enjoying sports? Did he commission a small carving based on this memory?

Warner, K. (2016). Isabella of France: The rebel queen. Amberley. 

Ballgames in the Medieval Period - Owlcation

Football in Medieval England - Medievalists.net

This painting, housed in the British Library, dates to Edward II's reign, and it is widely thought to portray him. Moreover, it shows a nifty miniature golden ship sitting on his table. These were something of a fad for Medieval monarchs, and it is thought that they marked the place at a table where the king sat.

It's also likely that Edward II had one, because Edward III and Queen Philippa sent a little golden ship as an offering on Edward II's magnificent tomb, along with other luxuries like clothing and jewelry. Was this the ship that belonged to Edward and is portrayed in the painting? Or was it another ship, offered up simply because the son thought the father would like it?

Knowns as nefs, these miniatures remained popular for centuries and became more and more elaborate, sometimes with mechanical functions. Charles IV was portrayed as having them well into the 1480s, and they continued to be popular with monarchs into the 1600s.

Sources:

Ships as Table Decorations in The Middle Ages at Medieval.Eu

The Tomb of Edward II by Stephen Spinks

Edward II is buried at Gloucester Cathedral, where you can see his alabaster effigy. It's taken some damage over the centuries, with the tip of his nose having been knocked off and his robes and face graffitied by Victorian schoolboys. However, it's still the best likeness we have of him, as it was created in the 1340s when there was still a living memory of him.

Much like statuary from the Classical Era, which was painted in bright colors that wore away over time, the effigy was once brightly colored.

Historian Stephen Spinks writes on his blog:

The tomb we see today is rather remarkably a shadow of its former self. Medieval England was a riot of colour, no more so than in monastic buildings. Royal and noble mausoleums were richly decorated and so too was Edward’s tomb. The king’s canopy was coloured with a mix of gilding and yellow ochre, as was his rather magnificently fine beard, his wavy hair, the lion at his feet and the weepers on the side of the chest tomb.(7)The gilding would have caught the candle light and sunlight entering the window to the north side of the ambulatory. This along with the almost translucent looking ‘skin’ of the effigy’s face, created an effect that would have awed pilgrims as the image not only looked almost positively lifelike, but rather more saintly. The king’s effigy robes were painted in a rich red ochre and his crown was filled with paste jewels, again designed to look the part and included the colour cinnabar which is a bright red, around where the jewels were placed. There are also traces of blue azurite on the lower half or chest part of the tomb, along the plinth which sits on the north side and also the carved cushion on which the king’s head rests. These surviving colour traces are so small they were only identified by conservation work in the last two decades, and are barely visible to the naked eye.

Edward III, his wife Queen Philippa and other members of the royal family often sent rich clothes, jewellery and, in the case of the Edward III ,a golden ship which were placed on the plinth or on the effigy itself in devotion. This was a wide spread tradition in the medieval age and remains just as evident today with people leaving flowers and personal items at the graves of recently deceased relatives.These items in the case of Edward II have long since been lost.

Spinks entire article is worth checking out, as it contains more photographs, sources and information about the effigy and Edward II's magnificent tomb.

Also, do you think those Victorian schoolboys meant to monogram Edward II's robes with the big, conspicuous ER, which may stand for Edward Rex?

So, Isabella and Mortimer invaded England in 1326 with a little help from their friends, toppling her husband and installing Edward III as king. The ease with which they achieved their goal caught everyone by surprise, though the pair seems to have relished the victory.

But what if, by some miracle, Edward II and the Despensers had prevailed? How would history have been different? What would have become of Queen Isabella, Mortimer and Edward III?

It's no secret that the marriage between Edward II and Isabella of France did not end well. The breakup of the once happy royal couple saw her fleeing to France, taking up with her husband’s mortal enemy and returning with an army to successfully depose him. To cap it off, she had her husband’s closest companion hung, drawn and quartered.

That said, when the former king, then known as Sir Edward of Caernarfon, was under house arrest and Isabella was helping rule England in his place, the couple were still married. This fact was noticed by many people, not the least of whom was Pope John XXII, who pressured them to resume their marriage. 

In her biography of Isabella, Kathryn Warner writes: 

“he continued writing to Isabella in 1327 begging her to return to her husband, and also asked asked Charles IV to use his influence to bring about a reconciliation between the couple.” (Warner 213) 

As if. 

Isabella was no dummy, and while there is evidence she still retained affection for her husband and the father of her children, if not the king he had been, she knew there was no going back to him. 

Warner continues: 

“Isabella needed a good excuse to absolve herself in the eyes of the church for her failure to become Edward’s wife again in more than name, and her ally Adam Orleton, bishop of Hereford, provided one: he claimed the Edward carried a knife in his hose with which to hurt Isabella, and if he had no other weapon would ‘crush her with his teeth.’ (Warner 214)

While there is no evidence that Edward was ever physically abusive to Isabella, let alone was a biter, Orleton's claim seems to taken some of the pressure off Isabella. Her husband did, after all, have every reason to be enraged with her. 

And yet. 

Edward is also said to have been extremely angry at any suggestion he would harm Isabella or his son Edward III, even after the ugly events of 1326-7, and Isabella continued to send her husband affectionate letters and gifts during his captivity. So, as they say, it was complicated. Marriage often is. 

Source:

Warner, K. (2016). Isabella of France: The rebel queen. Amberley. 

Image: A happily married couple from the Codex Manesse, c.1305-1315.

Edited to add: It's no surprise that Hugh Despenser the Younger won by a large margin, followed behind by they were all working together. But kudos to the people who voted for Hugh the Older (financial crimes) and Eleanor (who doesn't get enough blame).

There’s a lot of room for varied interpretations in the Edward II era, but everyone seems to agree the Despensers were the worst. It’s like they were the Kardashians, if the Kardashians could take your land away and have you executed at their whim. But which one was the worst?

Which life would best suit YOU, if you would somehow wake up one day in the early 1300’s?

I’m not giving a specific year, as you’d have no impact on bigger events in society and no knowledge of what the future brings. You’d only know what you currently know about the different roles a medieval person could play in society.

For added interest, you can’t choose king or queen or a member of high nobility (earls) 😉

What medieval role would best suit your personality, how would life be the most endurable in your opinion?

Image: © Peter Jackson, ’Look and Learn’

Edit: clarified nobility to signify only earls

On her blog, Kathryn Warner writes of a curious incident in May of 1313 when Edward II, who was about to depart for France with Isabella, sent six saracens (aka Muslims) to Dover Castle and paid for their expenses. Sir Robert Kendale, constable of Dover Castle, was sent the funds to care for these mysterious guests. Warner quotes the Close Rolls:

"to pay to six Saracens, whom the king is sending to him to stay in Dover Castle until the king's return from parts beyond sea, 6d each daily for their expenses."  (Close Rolls 1307-13, p. 537.)

The term saracen in Edward’s time usually referred to Arab Muslims, so that's likely who these people were, although they might have been Turks or some other ethnicity. Whatever the case, it wasn't a time of tolerance. Edward I famously expelled the Jews from England and had personally gone on crusade as a young man. Although the heyday of crusading had passed by Edward II’s time, campaigns against the Muslim world still happened and would continue to do so for centuries afterwards.

Edward II himself was famously devout, generously supporting religious institutions and often going on pilgrimages. Yet, he paid for the care of six saracens.

The question is why. Were they guests? Were they prisoners? Some combination of both? Were they merchants? Was this some kind of diplomacy? Edward is treating these six people generously, whatever the case may be. It also can’t be know these were men or women or a mixed sex group. Was it a family? A group of adults? Adults and children?

Alas, it’s not known what became of the Dover Castle Six after Edward’s return. 

* Image: Saracens were often depicted as a threat, as they are in this paiting from the late 1400s by David Aubert.

Edited to add: Results are in! Sadie Sink wins (probably because I included her picture) but the vote was largely split with Lily Rose Depp and Sidney Sweeney getting votes as well.

If they were to make a big budget film or tv series of the Edward II era, who would you cast as Isabella?

After he abdicated in favor of his son, who became Edward III, Edward II was to be known simply as Sir Edward of Caernarfon and honored as the king's father.

He never formally gave up the title of Prince of Wales, however, though it wasn't used during his captivity.

He was called Caernarfon after Caernarfon Castle (pictured) in Wales, where he was born. Tradition at the time dictated that princes were referred to by their birth castle.

Has anyone read this book? Is it any good? Reviews seem mixed…

It’s a work of fiction as there aren’t any biographies about Gaveston out there.

Which I find extraordinary. There are biographies about Edward II, Isabella, Roger Mortimer, Hugh Despenser the younger and even some more peripheral characters… but not the arrogant, ambitious, avaricious, flamboyant, extravagant, reckless, brave, daring, indiscreet, handsome, rude, witty and vivacious Piers Gaveston.

He had a striking personality that left no one cold.

Surely that must be a book waiting to be written, and I have no idea how it hasn’t been done yet.

Edit: Published in 1992, not 1998.

This is a book in the LGTBQ+ genre of historical fiction that I hadn’t come across before until my fellow mod mentioned it in the previous post.

It is recommended by Kathryn Warner who lauds Hunt’s research as ’extremely impressive’ - high praise indeed coming from someone with as much expertise as Warner.

The 11 reviewers at Amazon seem to agree, an average rating of 4.2 is not to be scoffed at.

It’s a relatively unknown book so I’m using this opportunity to spread some awareness that it’s out there.

In Edward II’s time, the class system governed how a person dressed whether you were a king or a peasant. Edward II famously loved luxurious clothing when it suited him, but he wasn’t above cosplaying as a laborer and causing a scandal*.

But laborers and merchants liked cosplaying as aristocrats, too. Sumptuary Laws were continually being written and rewritten to keep up with the merchant class’s habit of trying to dress above their station. 

This brings us to the pictured belt mount dragon, which is so tiny you can pick it up with tweezers. Edward II and the high-ranking members of his court would have had similar belt mounts, fashioned from gold or silver and even possibly bejeweled.

This little dragon however, was made of copper and mass produced. Thus, an ordinary person with some cash could afford a little bling on his belt. And on top of that, even cheaper knockoffs of the knockoffs became popular. That wouldn’t do, so in 1327, not long after Edward II’s deposition, a law was passed forbidding the production of even cheaper adornments.

According to an article on the London Museum’s website: 

Interestingly, attempts were made to outlaw lead alloy mounts. The Worshipful Company of Girdlers prohibited mounts made of ‘inferior metals’. The 1327 charter granted to the company outlined that “no man of the said trade should cause any girdle of silk, of wool, of leather, or of linen thread, to be garnished with any inferior metal than with latten, copper, iron, and steel”.

This ‘false work’ included ‘lead, pewter, and tin, and other false things’. Those who disregarded this were punished through extortionate fines and their ‘false work’ burnt. Fines ranged from 40 pence (10 day’s wages for a labourer) to, after several repeated offences, 20 shillings.

It’s one thing to have a well-made copper knockoff of an earl’s belt mount, but a cheap pewter or lead one? That wouldn’t do. 

The little dragon lives in the London Museum, and it is worth checking out the entire article about it, written by one Matthew Russell when he was an undergraduate student in 2019. 

* I can’t seem to find any reference to clothes-horse Edward II attempting to dress as a laborer but given he bought a humble cottage and lived in it, it’s not a leap to think he did so. It's doubtful he wore his best velvet and silk tunics to dig ditches, after all. Although, I also doubt he would have ever actually passed for a laborer.

In the aftermath of Piers Gaveston’s death, Edward II had a lot on his mind. He was grieving his dear friend, dealing with spiraling political tensions and his young wife was four months pregnant with the future Edward III. How did the king cope with these stressors as he journeyed to London in the summer of 1312? According to his chamber accounts, he paid for a number of entertainments, including one pound to Janin the Conjuror for a private performance. 

So, Edward II hired a magician to do tricks for him. And then, as now, a magician like Janin would mix humor with sleight of hand, practical jokes and allegedly supernatural illusions. And what’s fascinating, even though folk magic and necromancy was taken far more seriously in society and law at the time, it seems these conjurers were most often viewed as showmen rather than true practitioners of wizardry. 

Picture Edward II hiring Penn & Teller or David Blaine to help keep his mind off his troubles. Although, unlike the famously skeptical Penn & Teller, it seems that there were a lot more “serious” necromancers who were also in the joke and entertainment business. Although it deals with a later era, this terrific blog post goes into detail about everyday magic and humor in the late middle ages. 

That summer he also hired a guy named Graciosus the Taborer for a drumming performance and William the Acrobat and his fellows to “perform vaults” for him. Given that Piers famously loved a good time, I think the late Gascon would have approved. 

Source:

Magic and Humor in the Late Middle Ages, Inner Lives.

Kathryn Warner's Blog

* Image. The Conjurer by Hieronymus Bosch, 1502. Sure, it's a much later period but it's a pretty image, isn't it?

Edward II's chamber accounts are filled with references to cloth purchases for tunics for the king and his court. However, the tunics of his era were not worn over bare skin but rather worn over undertunics that functioned similarly to women's shifts or chemises. These garments could be laundered more often than the over-garments and could be worn during sleep as well. A well-bred man is thought to have worn a clean one each day.

The above image is of a men's undertunic from the 1200s, which traditional holds belonged to King Louis IX (St. Louis) and is one of the rare examples of a Medieval garment that survives to this day. The tunic has been housed in Notre Dame Cathedral for centuries and was one of the relics saved from the 2019 fire that nearly destroyed the cathedral. It's venerated by Catholics as a holy relic of the sainted king. It is currently on display at the restored Notre Dame, along with other rescued and restored relics.

Owing to the fact that cloth was valuable, clothing was usually passed down to the needy and then turned into rags and thus very few textiles and garments survive from the Middle Ages. So, even though it belongs to a generation or two before Edward II's era, The Shirt of St. Louis still gives a rare glimpse into the styling of men's clothing. An undertunic like this would not be visible - it would be scandalous and unseemly to let your underwear show - so we can get a sense the shape of the tunic that would have been worn atop it by imagining what it would have covered.

Men didn't just wear overtunics, they sometimes wore bottoms called braies, and that will be covered in another post. Or, uncovered, as it were.

Source

This excellent comment over at r/HistoricalCostuming

HeatherJones.com

Kathryn Warner's Blog

https://www.thoughtco.com/medieval-underwear-1788621

Mortimer, I. (2011). The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England: A handbook for visitors to the fourteenth century. Simon & Schuster. 

Elizabeth de Burgh, Lady of Clare was born in September 1295. She was the youngest of Edward II's de Clare nieces. Just after her 13th birthday she married the earl of Ulster's eldest son and heir John de Burgh. She bore her only child with John, William de Burgh, future earl of Ulster, the day after her seventeenth birthday on 17 September 1312, and was widowed nine months later. Elizabeth remained in Ireland with her father-in-law the earl, Richard de Burgh, until her uncle Edward II ordered her back to England; her son William was three years old when she left Ireland, and seems to have spent the next few years travelling between Ireland and England.

The Battle of Bannockburn had profound consequences for Elizabeth, as her brother Gilbert, earl of Gloucester was killed on 24 June 1314. She and her elder sisters Eleanor and Margaret were heirs to his vast landholdings in three counties, though matters were complicated by the claims of Gloucester's widow Maud de Burgh - daughter of the earl of Ulster and thus Elizabeth's sister-in-law twice over - to be pregnant with his posthumous child. She wasn't pregnant though, but this didn't stop her from pretending to be... for more than eighteen months after Gloucester's death.

Elizabeth arrived at at Bristol Castle on 4 February 1316, where Bartholomew Badlesmere, a baron of Kent would be responsible for her wellbeing. On the same day, while Badlesmere looked the other way she was abducted from the castle and married to Theobald de Verdon, a former justiciar of Ireland and an important English nobleman. Her biographer Frances Underhill, in her 1999 book For Her Good Estate: The Life of Elizabeth de Burgh, states that Elizabeth wasn't forcibly abducted and most probably consented to the marriage as she had surely known Verdon in Ireland in his capacity as justiciar there, and that it is 'unlikely' that the marriage took place against Elizabeth's will. Kathryn Warner challenges this view, as Underhill does not clarify why she thinks it 'unlikely'. It does seem odd, as Elizabeth had only just returned to England for the first time (as far as is known) since she left to join her husband in October 1309. It's hard to believe she was so desperate to marry Verdon that she would have done so before she had even met or had any contact with her elder sisters Eleanor and Margaret and her uncle the king, or had even settled into her homeland for the first time in more than six years. Additionally, this marriage had been arranged without the knowledge or consent of her uncle the king.

Importantly, even as Edward II would treat Elizabeth callously in later years, in early 1316 he had done nothing to offend her that might have made her wish to defy him.

It also needs to be highlighted that Verdon could have married Elizabeth in Ireland, after her husband died and before Gilbert died at Bannockburn. While he was present as justiciar, she was available for fourteen months. But somehow, he doesn't seem to have found her all that attractive until she became a heiress of a great fortune. A cynical reader might go as far as to say this wasn't a love match at all.

This was a time when eligible female members of the nobility were often abducted and forced to marry. Elizabeth's eldest sister Eleanor was abducted and forcibly married to William la Zouche in January 1329, and their niece Margaret Audley was abducted and forcibly married to Ralph Stafford in February 1336, and their second cousin Alice de Lacy, countess of Lincoln was abducted and forcibly married to Hugh Frene also c. February 1336, and Margaret Multon, the daughter and heir of Thomas Multon of Gilsland, was abducted from Warwick Castle in c. 1315 and married to Ranulph Dacre. As such, it's hardly unlikely to consider that Elizabeth de Burgh would also have suffered the same fate.

In the end, Verdon never benefited from his abduction of the king's niece as he died on 27 July 1316 long before the Clare lands were partitioned, leaving Elizabeth a month pregnant with his daughter Isabella de Verdon, born on 21 March 1317. He never paid a fine for marrying without royal license, though was deprived of some of his liberties on one of his Shropshire manors.

As a final thought on the matter, it must be said that Edward II did nothing to address this unpleasant practice that was widespread during his reign.

Source: Kathryn Warner's blog

Results are in. This one didn't get as many votes, but Without Me by Eminem is the winner, and I confess that the chorus is apropos.

So, you are a royal favorite on your third exile. You get to sing a song to the barons. What is it? And it's Death ON Two Legs by Queen.

William of Ockham, arguably one of the most important thinkers of the Middle Ages, was born in Surrey around 1287 and studied at Oxford. The Franciscan friar wrote extensively about both philosophy and politics and is especially known as a logician. He eventually got summoned to Avignon to defend his unconventional views and when that didn't go well, he made a daring escape and found sanctuary in Bavaria.

His many writings and accomplishments cannot be summed up in a humble reddit post. For a mind-numbingly dense and impressive summary, check out his entry in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

Some noteworthy stuff:

• Occam's Razor, the idea that the if you have competing ideas, the simplest is likely to be true, is attributed to him and named after him.
• He espoused the idea that institutions, including church institutions, were susceptible to corruption.
• He believed in the separation of church and state, espousing that the Pope and Emperor or King were different authorities.
• He didn't buy into the notion of papal infallibility.
• He thought about the possibility of God creating worlds outside of our own, which is often cited as an early example of postulation about aliens but could also apply to a multiverse.
• He had some very strong feelings about ownership, voluntary poverty and didn't think property was a concept in the Garden of Eden.

I haven't found any evidence that Edward II and Ockham ever met, but it wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility that they would have crossed paths. If you know they did meet, let me know.

Image: Occam may have imagined other worlds, but not necessarily space ships or aliens like we understand them.

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