The Death of a King

daughters and they would provide him with sturdy, industrious grandchildren. There was a great deal of travelling back and forwards to Winchester. Money was exchanged for letters of recommendation and then it was finally settled, I would enter the Dominican house in Oxford.
    I left my parents and my village with hardly a backward glance and travelled to Oxford to begin my studies. My dream was realized and, with a few minor exceptions, I was not disappointed. I came to love the clean austerity and regular routine of the monastery, even the religion, for I had a quick brain and a good actor’s aptitude for any role. My future as a priest, monk and preacher was assured until I met the Dunheveds, Thomas and Stephen, brothers from a prosperous Gloucestershire family, who had entered the order for the very same reasons as myself. They were like two peas in a pod. Small, dark, intense, with a love of life and a detached cynicism to all around them.
    Soon the Dunheveds and I became close friends. Naturally, our superiors frowned on this but, when they discovered there was nothing unnatural or unhealthy about our relationship, the matter was dropped. As I have said, the Dunheveds were as hypocritical as I was. During the day they were regular and committed to their monastic training but, quite often at night I would join them on their forays into the city. The university provided a varied, exciting social life. We drank with the students at the many taverns and, on occasions, even visited some of the brothels near the city gates. So, time passed on. My contacts with my family were seldom and short. Together with the Dunheveds I entered the novitiate, took my vows and was ordained a priest in the summer of 1311. Thomas Dunheved was sent by the order to Wales. Stephen and I, excellent students, were kept at the house in Oxford. Both of us were used to instruct new entrants and to carry out administrative duties of the order. One of these duties was to investigate cases of heresy or schism, these were usually minor matters, hedge priests who had little grasp of theology or some illiterate peasants who claimed they had seen visions of the Holy Ghost.
    However, in the summer of 1313, a much more serious matter was brought to the attention of the church authorities. A young student of the University of Oxford, one Simon Palmer, claimed that he was the real son of Edward I and that Edward of Caernar-von was an imposter. He maintained that he had been told all this through a vision whilst walking in Christchurch Meadows. Such impostors were not rare, but this student had a persuasive tongue and was preaching at a time of great political discontent in the country. Edward II was losing the war in Scotland and there was upheaval and unrest following the execution of the King’s favourite, Piers Gaveston, by the Earl of Lancaster and others. Edward II had sworn vengeance against his barons and Gaveston’s body was still lying in state at King’s Langley as Edward refused to allow it to be buried. Even the seasons seemed to conspire against us: a late spring had been followed by a very wet summer. The harvest would be poor and there were other omens and spectres which disturbed the common peace.
    Stephen Dunheved and I were instructed to attend the investigation into Palmer’s allegations. The Tribunal sat in the refectory of New Hall College with the King’s Justices of Oyer and Terminer present, they questioned Palmer whilst we simply sat in as observers. Palmer’s story was that years ago at good King Edward I’s palace at Woodstock he, Palmer, then the king’s first-born, had been playing in the courtyard when he had been attacked by a sow, who had bitten off his left ear. The nurse in charge of him had been so frightened of the old king’s temper that she had switched him for a peasant child. Palmer’s proof of these allegations was that he bore a passing resemblance to the old king. He also showed us the scar where his left ear had been torn off and, of course, he maintained that his story explained why the present king, in effect a peasant, was so interested in rustic pursuits, such as wrestling, farming and thatching. Dunheved and I wondered whether to laugh or simply advise the royal justices to dismiss Palmer as an idiot. However, the justices were in no mood to treat the matter lightly. They privately informed us that Palmer’s allegations were believed by certain members of the court and these charges were