King-sized tales of invasion

John Watson

Drivinb through France from Calais in the north to Bordeaux, the wine capital of the world some 850km to the south, it is worth remembering that for much of the 14th and 15th centuries much of western France was under the control of the English crown. The Hundred Years War, in which the plantagenet kings of England sought to regain the lands lost many years earlier by bad King John falls neatly into two parts. First in the 14th century - Edward III and his son the Black Prince win victories at Crecy in the north and Poitiers in the south, but then their territorial gains are gradually clawed back by Charles V and his heroic general, Du Guesclin. Then 50 years or so later it all happens again. Henry V wins so decisively at Agincourt that his son is crowned king of France as well as of England but now the clawing back is done by the saintly Joan of Arc and before long the English are back at Calais.

All very interesting you might think to those who like to learn their history parrot fashion, but to us touchy feelies, to whom it means nothing unless we "know" the people involved, hardly enough to divert us from another glass of the local wine. All right then, what were they like? The local wines? No those speak for themselves. I mean Edward and Henry of course.

Now it would be a brave man who wrote about the character of Henry V. Shakespeare has already done that three times and, however politically biased his account may be, he has done it rather well. So that leaves Edward , the missing man of the Shakespearian cannon in that there are eight plays about his immediate successors but none about the man himself. Why not? Wasn't he interesting enough?

There are three things that the non-historian knows about Edward. The first is that he founded the Order of the Garter, picking up the garter dropped by the Countess of Salisbury while dancing and rebuking the sniggering courtiers with the line "Honi soit qui mal y pense," ("Shamed be the person who thinks evil of it."). So what does that give us? Good manners, a dab hand with a slick phrase and an eye for a pretty woman.

Okay then, let's shift the ground to Crecy. Those fighting under the command of the 16-year-old Black Prince see him outnumbered and under pressure and ask Edward for reinforcement. "Let him win his spurs" the King replies, once he hears that his son is not actually injured. How do we read that then? A hard man, a man who does not even care about his children? That certainly wasn't what the Black Prince thought as he fell on his knees after the battle to thank his father for not interfering and giving him the chance of renown. A warrior with an eye for the real position who saw the opportunity for some good publicity. Perhaps that is more like it.

The key to it all though is at Calais. It is a poor tourist who visits that town without going to see the great Rodin statue at the foot of the clocktower. The six principal citizens wearing only their shirts and with halters round their necks bring Edward the keys of the city. Everything points to their execution but, stay a moment, Edward's Queen, Philippa, drops to her knees; she begs for their lives; they are spared, released, rewarded; this change of mind, this act of mercy, will echo throughout Christendom. It is all a little too good to be true. Even Churchill, a man who liked a good story, refers to "a scene which was clearly prearranged" and so, of course, it must have been.

So now we can see something of Edward himself. A man for whom the publicity machine always seemed to deliver. A man who lined up photo opportunities or their 14th century equivalents. The ultimate brand manager. Perhaps the reason why Shakespeare did not publicise him was that it had already been done.

Before retiring, John Watson was a partner in an international law firm. He now writes from Islington, London and is currently on holiday in France.