November, posting rewards on their heads, dead or alive. Another week passed before the general warrants of arrest were issued. Edward III apparently wanted to give these men a good headstart and, apart from Gurney, little evidence exists that his pursuit of them was ruthless or relentless.
The only person who didn’t flee was Lord Thomas Berkeley. Berkeley had weathered many a crisis during a long and complex life. An astute, wily man, he must have known that Mortimer was set for a fall. Nevertheless, he still had to be brought before the bar of Parliament and face very serious charges. Friends in high places are one thing but treason and regicide tend to cut across them. Berkeley must have had some assurances that he wouldn’t be following the same path as Beresford or Mortimer, especially as his replies to charges were both blunt and shrewd (see chapter 6 pp. 158–163 ). When asked about the King’s death, Lord Thomas coolly replied: ‘That he was never consenting, provided assistance or procured his death.’ This was followed by the most surprising assertion: ‘And he never knew about this death until the present parliament.’ This bald assertion, that he didn’t even know about Edward II’s death, some three years earlier, until this Parliament, at first sight beggars belief. The remarkis not just a throwaway line, however, but a very clever hint to the young King. To paraphrase, it would appear that Berkeley was really saying: ‘How can I be tried for the death of a man who may well still be alive? And I can produce proof that this is the case.’
Finally, Berkeley’s defence is the convergent point of Fieschi’s letter, Kent’s story and the Dunheved attack itself. The latter was highly successful: inside help must have been provided. Did Lord Thomas Berkeley in 1330 claim, rightly or wrongly, the credit for this, a defence which could not be publicly aired but secretly put forward in some form or other? Did Berkeley claim that, all the time, he was a secret opponent of Mortimer and used the Dunheved attack as proof of this? Dunheved was certainly supported by ‘great ones of the land’. Kent, a born plotter, was one of these. Berkeley, too, with his consummate skill at political survival, might have had a finger in this particular pie, or at least pretended to. Kent perhaps used this in his secret negotiations with Pope John XXII and Fieschi got to know of it.
The Italian priest’s letter may be a farrago of truth and lies but it might actually support this story. Fieschi talks of a mysterious ‘Lord Thomas’, not a knight but a ‘Seigneur’, a ‘Dominus’ – which accurately describes Berkeley’s status. This ‘Lord Thomas’ apparently received the escaped King, sheltered him at Corfe against Maltravers and later aided his escape to Ireland. It is my belief that Fieschi stumbled upon some aspects of the truth here. In a rather garbled way, the Italian priest is describing Lord Thomas Berkeley’s secret defence of his actions at the November Parliament of 1330. Fieschi must have learnt this either from some source in England or from the papal court. Making sucha defence was, on Berkeley’s part, a brilliant move. Who could contradict it? Who would want it debated in public? Why should an innocent man, who’d done so much for the old King, be punished? As for the events of September to October 1327, Lord Thomas had little choice but to co-operate with Mortimer. After all, hadn’t Edward III been forced to do the same?
Thomas Berkeley, it would seem, would be the last person Edward III would want to bring to trial. Indeed, considerable evidence exists that Berkeley not only protected himself and issued a subtle threat of blackmail, but even helped the other suspected murderers, especially Gurney, to leave the kingdom as speedily as possible. If this was the case, why did Edward III in the spring of 1331 begin his two-year pursuit of Gurney? The answer to this may lie in the Parliament
David LaRochelle
Walter Wangerin Jr.
James Axler
Yann Martel
Ian Irvine
Cory Putman Oakes
Ted Krever
Marcus Johnson
T.A. Foster
Lee Goldberg