The Death of a King

letters written by one Edmund Beche, English clerk, to Richard Bliton, Prior of the Abbey of Croyland. I cannot swear to the veracity of all they contain but only to the incidents which occurred at our monastery in the winter of 1347. I find it hard to accept that Hugolino, a common gardener, was the deposed Edward II of England. However, in a world where the King of Kings was a Jewish carpenter, anything can be true.
    Master Edmund stayed a month at our monastery after his friend’s murder. He merely tended the garden as Hugolino did and then one evening slipped quietly out of the monastery. I do not think that he resigned himself to death. That same evening, our brothers heard the sound of fighting far up the valley slope. The next morning a fair-haired Inglese, bleeding his life out, was found outside the great gate. Brother Giacommo, our infirmarian, did what he could but the unfortunate man died within the day. We searched his belongings for a name and found him to be Sir John Chandos, knight, baronet and a member of the household of Edward of England. In view of what Beche had written concerning this man, I decided to have him buried in unconsecrated ground, and the whole community has sworn an oath of secrecy never to reveal any information about his death. Since Beche’s disappearance, English “envoys” on their way to Rome, or the court of the Two Sicilies, have frequently visited our monastery “on pilgrimage” or “to rest.” I know their true intentions do not correspond to their open declarations, but none of them have left any the wiser for their visit.
    The news I receive from our English brethren tells me that Queen Isabella still lives whilst her son wages terrible war in France. Prior Richard Bliton, however, has not been so fortunate, for he died from a strange sickness on his way to Rome. As for Beche himself, nothing has been heard. He may have escaped, for we scoured the hillsides and found no trace of him. Wherever he may be, I wish him peace, for he was a good, conscientious clerk who fought a good fight and finished the task assigned to him. His letters will be left for posterity.

Historical Note
    History is full of strange mysteries and the death of Edward II must be reckoned one of the strangest. Many of the incidents described in the Butrio Manuscript are correct. Mortimer and Isabella were lovers. According to the French chronicler, Froissart, the queen was pregnant by Mortimer when the latter fell from power in 1330. Edward II was imprisoned at Berkeley Castle and Dunheved did go to Rome to seek a divorce and did launch a surprise attack on the castle to free his imprisoned master. History says he failed, but the Fieschi letter still exists to suggest the opposite. The fate of Edward II’s purported murderers is obscure: Guerney was apprehended in Italy but died on his way back to England. Ockle disappeared for ever, but John Maltravers was given a pardon and served as Edward III’s emissary in Flanders. Other items of information can also be verified: Isabella did have her “husband’s” heart sent to her; she did hire an old woman to dress the corpse; Bishop Orleton was accused of sending that message to Edward II’s gaol-ers; Mortimer did refuse to let the body be buried at Westminster and he did trick Edmund, Earl of Kent, into treason and summary execution.
    Queen Isabella died in 1358, but Beche’s curse on Edward III and his descendants did prove to be correct. The king’s war with France finally turned into disaster. Edward III slipped into dotage, totally dependent on an unscrupulous mistress, Alice Per-rers, who stayed beside his deserted deathbed only long enough to strip his corpse. Edward III’s eldest son, the Black Prince, died of a terrible wasting sickness. His grandson, Richard II, was deposed and murdered in 1399. The crown of England passed into other hands.

About the Author
    Paul C. Doherty was born in Middlesbrough. He studied History at Liverpool and Oxford Universities. Speculation on the fate of Edward II, subject of his Oxford doctoral thesis, nourished the plot of The Death of a King (1982). So well did Chancery Clerk Edmund Beche succeed that Doherty quickly created another such agent for Edward I in Hugh Corbett, a man who overturns sinister schemes across ten novels against a range of backdrops so evocative that readers shiver in the piercing cold of wintry St. Paul’s Cathedral ( The Angel of Death ) or flame at Oxford with the