For Love's Sake: Edward I and the Eleanor Crosses

by Heather Domin

King Edward I and Queen Eleanor
of Castile (Lincoln Cathedral)

Edward I of England has a bit of a bad rap, historically speaking: the ruthless Leopard Prince, the dreaded Longshanks, Hammer of the Scots, responsible for the brutal subjugation of Wales as well as the mass expulsion and murder of England's Jews. It's a fair cop, but for all his brutality King Edward did have one notable soft spot, one famous chink in his stony exterior: his wife, Eleanor of Castile. Not only did Edward love his queen deeply, which was rare in arranged royal marriages, but by all accounts he was faithful to Eleanor and kept no mistresses, which was almost unheard of. 

They married when both were quite young — Edward was 14, Eleanor a mere 13 — and so in a way they grew up together, which may have been part of the reason for their unusually close bond. Eleanor loved her husband as much as he loved her, and they were soul mates for over three decades. She had little political power and appears not to have influenced the King's rule (which may be another reason he loved her so much), but she made a devoted queen and helpmeet, following Edward on Crusade to the Holy Land despite being heavily pregnant and regularly accompanying him on his progresses through the kingdom. Together they had over a dozen children (possibly as many as 17!), which was quite a few even by the standards of the day. With Eleanor, Edward's famously fierce demeanor was softened; by all accounts he treated her kindly and gently, and could at times even be playfully romantic.

the Northampton Cross, one of the 3
surviving original Eleanor Crosses 

After 35 years of marriage, Edward was at Eleanor's bedside when she died of fever in 1290. Her death left the tough-as-nails king devastated and emotionally distraught. The court had been on progress when Eleanor took ill, and she died near the city of Lincoln; as her funeral cortege made its way back to London, Edward marked the places they stopped each night along the journey. At each location he ordered the creation of monuments that came to be known as the Eleanor Crosses, twelve stone pillars carved like miniature cathedrals to commemorate each place his queen lay in state on her final journey: Lincoln, Grantham, Stamford, Geddington, Northampton, Stratford, Woburn, Dunstable, St. Albans, Waltham, Cheapside, and finally Charing. They were meant as shrines, both to honor Eleanor's memory and for passersby to stop and pray for her soul. Never had an English queen been honored in such a way, and the fact that King Edward, who bled his nation for taxes to fund his wars and conquests, would use those funds for such an emotional purpose made it even more remarkable. The Eleanor Crosses are a monument to love and devotion in the reign of a king remembered mostly for his ruthlessness and cruelty.

Of the twelve Eleanor Crosses, only three survive, though the foundations of several others are still visible. Some locations replaced their lost original with a replica, and copies have been built in various towns across England; the most famous of these is Charing Cross in London, which was built during the Victorian era. Most of the cities where the original crosses stood have some type of monument or commemorative plaque either near the site or in a museum, telling the story of the Eleanor Crosses and honoring the memory of a queen who was so dearly beloved by her king, and the notoriously warlike king who went to such great lengths for love's sake. 

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Heather Domin is the author of Allegiance, set in 1922 Dublin, and The Soldier of Raetia, set in Augustan Rome. She is currently working on Heirs of Fortune, the sequel to SoR, and a paranormal story set in modern-day Glasgow.

Accidents: The King is Dead

By Blythe Gifford

Late on a March evening of 1286, Alexander III, king of Scotland, had already had a full day. He had met with his council in Edinburgh and afterward, they adjourned to a lengthy and "convivial" supper.

As they talked and, presumably, drank, a gale set in. Outside, winds from the north howled across the Firth of Forth, bearing snow. No night for man or beast to venture out.

But the king's new young wife was in Kinghorn Castle, on the east coast of Fife. To get there, he would have to cross the firth in a boat and then ride on horseback to the castle on a cliffside path of uncertain footing. Still, he was determined to sleep in her bed before the night was over.

What mixture of lust, love, bravado, or wine made him so insistent we'll never know. Lust may be the winner, for the chronicles report that after the death of his first wife, "he used never to forbear on account of season nor storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit none too creditably nuns or matrons, virgins or widows as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise."

The king himself was not old. At forty-four, he was in his prime and had ruled Scotland for thirty six prosperous years. (The illustration is of his coronation.) His tragedy was that he had lost his reportedly beloved wife and all three children. So that night, five months after his latest wedding, there was no immediate male heir to Scotland's throne.

Instead, the nobles, grudgingly, had agreed to his granddaughter, the infant "Maid of Norway" as the heir presumptive. Several of them disliked naming a girl. Others felt their own claims were as good or better, but in the end, they were perhaps persuaded by the fact that Alexander had plenty of time to produce another son and heir.

Did that add any urgency to his desire to bed his bride?

His queen, variously called Yolande or Joleta, twenty-three, was French, and descended from the Capetian dynasty. Her father was a vassal of Edward I of England. I found no description of her, but something drove the king to face a howling gale to be by her side.

He had many opportunities to turn back.

First, the boatman refused to take him across the Firth, but changed his mind not because of a royal order, but because he was called a coward for refusing to sail.

After crossing the water, the king had another chance to change his mind. Those with him urged him to stay at Inverkeithing overnight and ride on to the castle the next day. Again, he refused.

What happened then we don't know exactly. Did he, impatient, ride on alone? Or was he separated from the others by the wind and snow? Somewhere on the treacherous path, his horse must have lost his footing, for the king's body was found the next day, at the bottom of the cliff where he had been thrown, or fallen, from his horse.

Scotland's Golden Age was over. The last of Scotland's Celtic kings, dead.

None of the accounts suggest foul play, and given the state of the succession, there seemed no motive for it.

After his death, there was another chance, even two, for an orderly succession to the Scottish throne. First, his current queen was thought to be pregnant, but that was either a false alarm or the child died before term. Next, as agreed, the Maid of Norway was confirmed as Scotland's monarch, but she died at the age of seven, "seized by an illness at sea," shortly after landing on the Orkney Islands, still owned by Norway. Again, no foul play was suspected. She was in her father's ship and accompanied by Norwegians on the voyage.

Thirteen claimants came forward to take her place.

Edward I of England was invited to determine the rightful inheritor of the Scottish throne. John Balliol, Robert the Bruce, William Wallace, and hundreds of years of the Wars of Independence follow.

All because Alexander had no more sense than to stay inside during inclement weather.

Blythe Gifford has written five, 14th century medieval romances for Harlequin Historicals featuring characters born on the wrong side of the royal blanket, most recently HIS BORDER BRIDE in May 2010. The Chicago Tribune called her work "the perfect balance between history and romance." She is working on her next book, which will again be set on the Scottish Borders.