In September 1327, the death was announced of Edward of Caernarfon, formerly king of England, at Berkeley Castle, Gloucestershire. On 19 March 1330, Edmund, earl of Kent, the king's uncle, was executed for the crime of plotting to rescue Edward, in the belief that he was still alive and a prisoner in Corfe Castle in Dorset. Thereafter, speculation about Edward's possible survival was – perhaps understandably – muted. And so it remained for the next five centuries. Then, in 1877, Alexandre Germain, dean of the Faculty of Letters at Montpellier, published a transcript of an extraordinary letter, purporting to record Edward's own account of how he escaped from Berkeley and, after spending time in Corfe Castle, Ireland, France and Germany, ended up as a hermit in Italy. Since then, the possibility of Edward's survival after 1327 has been the subject of some historical debate – albeit a debate that has aptly been described as ‘extraordinarily slow-moving’.

The most forthright case for Edward's survival has been made by the historian Ian Mortimer. He argues that the announcement of Edward's death was a fabrication; that the corpse buried at Gloucester was not Edward’s; and that Edward III was subsequently informed that his father was not dead. This whole charade was arranged by Sir Roger Mortimer, who had led the coup against Edward II and was effectively in charge of Edward III's government. It was intended to forestall plots to reinstate Edward II as king, while simultaneously strengthening Roger's hold over the young Edward III, through the threat that he might be displaced by his still living father. Ian Mortimer concludes by claiming that, in the light of his arguments, ‘we cannot say that Edward II “almost certainly” died in Berkeley Castle, rather that the reverse is true: it is almost certain that he did not’.

Mortimer's thesis has commanded somewhat less than universal acceptance;4 in response, he has mounted a vigorous defence in a collection of essays, in which he has expanded and developed his argument. Claiming that his work will one day become the historical orthodoxy, he argues that his critics have not properly engaged with his methodology.