The long promised Constance Prequel

 Here we are.

Walking Among Lions is the first of a trilogy about Constance of York. It was first conceived as a prequel to Within the Fetterlock. (A draft title was This New Spring of Time but my friends changed my mind.)

As Within the Fetterlock is now 'hard to find' and my understanding of the politics and certain facts have changed, I have now decided to go the whole hog, so the trilogy will cover her whole life.

War, English Delusion, and the effect on the Economy

I have a theory that a lot of what we call "history" arises from the "hospital pass". (For those who don't know, this term comes from Rugby. It's where the ball is passed to you at a moment or in a situation where the opposition is bound (or at least likely) to recover the situation with a violent tackle.)

A good example of this are the events arising from the Hundred Years War. Now yes, there were genuine issues arising between England and France. These mostly arose from the status of Guienne, which the kings of England held as vassals of the kings of France. (Though it is ironic that some of the issues were the very issues that the English imposed on their Welsh and Scottish* vassals.)

*To avoid response from angry Scots, during the time when the Scots accepted vassalage, for example the reign of John Balliol.

The fact remains that France had about five times the population Of England and was (almost) correspondingly more wealthy. For the English to take on France in a major war (as opposed to a small one) was always going to be a stretch.

Ah, but you say, Edward III and the Black Prince succeeded! Did they not have glorious victories at Crecy and Poitiers? Did they not actually capture the French king and impose a humiliating peace on him? (Treaty of Bretigny.)

Yes, they did, with the benefit of novel tactics, excellent leadership and, let's be honest, some help from Lady Luck.

BUT! (And it's a very big but.) The French were not stupid. They soon figured out new tactics to defeat the English, the most important of which was "Don't meet the English in pitched battle." It doesn't sound very impressive, does it, but the effect was remarkable. The English armies that went to France in the later 14th Century did a fair bit of damage (especially to poor people and their property) but they failed utterly to enforce the treaty or cause the French government to collapse. Moreover, these campaigns were costly in cash and lives.

What is too often forgotten by English historians (who are all too apt to pleasure themselves silly over Edward III's "greatness") is that by the end of his reign England was practically bankrupt, in a fair degree of political chaos and under regular attacks from French raids along the south coast.

At which point poor Richard II and his advisers took over this legacy of "glory".

The English (or more particularly their ruling class) were frankly deluded. Yep, they wanted to carry on with the war. Why, they wanted to enforce the Treaty of Bretigny. Did they want to pay for it? Did they heck as like.

So, make peace instead? What, are you a traitor, sir!

There were of course truces. As the century dragged on, these were to become more regular. But the cost of the war led to desperate measures in the treasury. Which led to the introduction of the Poll Tax. Do I need to spell out how that went down?

Richard II actually offered to lead an army to France. Yes, really. Would Parliament pay for it? Would they heck!

So we come to 1386, with the French poised to attack across the Channel. Make no mistake, this was a serious threat. Probably more of a genuine threat than anything prepared by Napoleon or Hitler, hard though that may be to believe. The King goes to Parliament to ask for money to defend the nation. Does Parliament pay up? No, it goes spare, and forces on Richard a commission to run the country for 12 months.

Now this in turn (to cut a long story short) leads on to the Appellant Crisis and the judicial murder - for that was what it was! - of many of the King's friends and advisers and the banishment of others. Do the Appellants do a better job? Do they somehow magically cut taxation and give the French a damn good thrashing? Do they heck as like. They prove just as clueless in government - if not more clueless - than the people they replaced.

Eventually, largely because John of Gaunt comes home and supports King Richard in his policies, and after a whole lot of haggling and abortive proposals, a peace of sorts is achieved. Not until late 1396 though, and it is in fact a 28 year truce, that leaves some of the awkward issues unsolved.

You might thing people would be delighted. But many of them weren't. No, they wanted to carry on the war that they didn't want to pay for. It's one of the issues that makes Richard unpopular and leads to his downfall. Next post will relate the Lancastrian aftermath.

Obit - Constance of York

28th November 2016 marks the 600th anniversary of the death of Constance of York, Lady Le Despenser and Countess of Gloucester, who was, among other things, the heroine of my novel Within the Fetterlock.

Constance was a fascinating woman who had a very interesting life, although she was far from being a saint. Granddaughter of Edward III, cousin of Richard II and Henry IV, aunt of Richard, 3rd Duke of York and Great-grandmother of Queen Anne Neville (and Isabel, Duchess of Clarence.)

She was many descendants to this day.

Constance was buried in Reading Abbey very close to the tomb of her ancestor, King Henry I. It is possible that the investigations currently being undertaken to locate King Henry will locate Constance too. 

 Requiescat in pace

Sir Roger of Clarendon

Not a lot of people know that Richard II had a paternal half-brother. This was Sir Roger of Clarendon, born at at unknown date to Edward of Woodstock, the 'Black Prince' and one Edith de Willesford.

He was almost certainly older than Richard II, and in 1372 received an annuity of £100 from Edward III.

In 1402 Roger was arrested, accused of conspiracy against his cousin, Henry IV. He may have been guilty of spreading rumours that Richard was still alive. He quite possibly believed that he was. In any event he was executed at Tyburn - which suggests he was hanged, drawn and quartered for high treason.

My main source for this is Plantagenesta

Edward, The Black Prince

I came across a conversation today where people were regretting the early death of the Black Prince, because apparently everything would have been much better had he lived.

Unfortunately, even people interested in English history tend not to appreciate that at the end of Edward III's reign England was 1. losing the war with France (badly) and 2. almost bankrupt.

So unless the Black Prince was secretly a magician who could conjure gold out of the air - paper currency being a thing as yet unknown - he would have struggled with the same issues Richard II and his Council faced - that is, how to raise money without upsetting the easily-upset English taxpayer. And if you look at Edward's track record with his taxpayers in Gascony, it would probably not have been pretty.

A rather similar conversation can be had around Henry V. It is true that at his death the English military position had not collapsed (as it had in 1377) but the problems with money had already started. Parliament was not for splashing out. Not even for Henry V. Poor old Henry VI never had a chance - arguably his followers did extremely well to hold on to as much as France as they did for as long as they did.

If I am going to regret anyone's early death it would be Edward IV's. Had he lived another ten years Richard of Gloucester could have continued happily in Yorkshire, Henry Tudor would be a mere footnote in history, and a whole lot of sorrow would have been avoided.

The Beauforts

Those of you who get the Ricardian Bulletin will have seen a very interesting article from Stephen Lark in which he points out that it is possible John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset (first of that long and confusing line) was quite likely legally a Swynford, in view of the probability that he was conceived during Hugh Swynford's lifetime.

Of course, it is also quite likely that everyone (who mattered) knew he was biologically Gaunt's son, bearing in mind how the upper classes work.

The purpose of this post is not to debate Stephen's theory, but to consider the circumstances under which the Beauforts were legitimised. When Gaunt returned from his attempt to conquer Castile, he was well received by Richard II, who had learned in his absence that his earlier hostility to his uncle had been a political error. Gaunt strongly supported the King's peace policy with France, and in return Richard rewarded him generously, most notably with the extension of Lancashire's palatinate status to an hereditary one, and the creation of Gaunt as Duke of Aquitaine. (Had the Gascons not objected, Richard would have gone so far as to allow his uncle to hold this honour directly from Charles VI of France, but as it was he retained the suzerainty.)

The process of legitimisation of the Beauforts was a continuation of this royal favour. Moreover, Richard favoured the Beauforts themselves, possibly seeing in them a suitable counter weight to Henry Bolingbroke.

The point is that in 1396/97 no one dreamed that the Beauforts might ever get near the throne. Even if one assumes that Gaunt was de-facto heir (and this is a million miles from the true position) his son Bolingbroke had four sons of this own. So on the most generous estimate, forgetting the Mortimers altogether (and Henry's daughters), John Beaufort was seventh in line. It was not realistically going to happen. So the nominal status of his birth was really neither here nor there. At least not in 1396/7.

Taking this into account, there is perhaps a logical explanation for Henry IV's decision to exclude the Beauforts from the succession. They were suddenly a whole lot nearer. It would have helped, of course, if Henry had gone on to set out the succession after the heirs of his children - but he was not to know that they would prove to be so infertile. It probably never even crossed his mind that this was an issue.

(Since I wrote this, Stephen Lark has pointed out to me that he said in his article that John Beaufort was likely a biological as well as legal son of Hugh Swynford. My apologies for misunderstanding.)

A Note on the Attainders

Bertram Wolfe in Henry VI points out that the attainders included entailed lands. This was, he says 'in gross violation of the currently accepted practice of English common law that entails were sacrosanct, even against treason, a convention ominously last flouted by the tyrannous Richard II in 1398.'

Well, it was 1397, actually. And, like many critics of Richard II, Wolfe ignores the fact that the proceedings of 1397 deliberately mirrored the harsh treatment of Richard's friends by the Appellants in 1388. So it was the Appellants who were 'tyrannous'.

Anyway, the seizure of entailed lands was harsh. But the treatment of the womenfolk was generous and the Yorkist lords only had to 'humbly submit' to be guaranteed pardon. So I'll leave it to you out there to decide for yourself whether the treatment was 'tyrannous' or not.

Richard II Facebook Group

For anyone genuinely interested in Richard the Second (and his times) I have started a Facebook Group for him called the Fellowship of the White Hart. Membership is open to anyone at this time, but I may make it a closed group later if it gets busy or rowdy!

There's also a Group for Richard III, but although I'm a member it's otherwise nothing to do with me. But fun to join if you're interested.

Richard, Duke of York - a bit more about the early years.

I spent some time yesterday leafing through Ralph Griffiths' amazing tome The Reign of Henry VI which I think holds the record for the thickest book in my collection. 968 pages in hardback, costing £25 as far back as 1981 - I must have been loaded in those days! (Well, it was before I got married.)

Anyway, it appears that after the death of Ralph Neville, York and Joan Beaufort lived in the King's Household. (The latter is perhaps the more surprising.) Also in the same household was the King's mother, Katherine of Valois. The Council ordered that all royal wards should live with the King, suitably attended at the King's expense. It must have been rather crowded.

After the death of Henry V, the following arrangements evolved, though they were not what had been ordered in Henry V's will. Bedford, Henry VI's elder surviving uncle, spent most of his time in France, and acted as Regent there. However, when he did come home to England he was pre-eminent there as well.

The second uncle, Humphrey of Gloucester, stayed mainly in England at the head of the Council, but his role as Protector was tightly circumscribed, much to his distaste. He spent much of his time falling out with his uncle, Bishop Beaufort - the pair of them seem to have cordially detested one another. This was the political element - Henry VI himself was under the care of the Duke of Exeter. (Thomas Beaufort, the youngest son of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford.) Exeter's role seems to have been fairly hands-off and mainly delegated to deputies.

One thing this government failed to do was keep order in England. I was surprised how much violence and feuding there was at this time - everyone seems to have been at it, not least John Talbot (later Earl of Shrewsbury) and Joan, Lady Abergavenny, who as important members of the nobility really ought to have known better.

In the era of Richard II domestic violence is often blamed on the absence of a decent war in France to keep the thugs busy. Obviously this argument (which I've accepted myself at times) is deeply flawed, as in the 1420s there was a fair old war going on in France and it clearly did not keep things quiet at home. Nor can Henry VI be blamed at this stage - he was a little boy, and not involved in government. It seems the English (and Welsh) were just a rowdy lot and enjoyed a bit of casual violence against their neighbours.

The reign of Richard II as told by LOL cats

Following on from Susan Higginbotham's brilliant efforts in this vein for Richard III and Edward II, I thought I'd make my own humble attempt in the same style, but for Richard II.

Owain Glyn Dwr

Little is known about Owain as a man. He was descended from the princely houses of Powys and Deheubarth, but his landed estate is reckoned by R R Davies to be worth £70 a year at most, which in England would have had him rated as an important member of the gentry, qualifying for knighthood, but nothing more. To put it in perspective, remember that Bolingbroke drew an income of around £1500 from the lordship of Brecon alone.

Owain was around 40 in 1400, which was well beyond youth in the 14th century - given that the average age of the population was nearer 20. He appears to have served the Arundel family in various roles, and he fought in Richard II's Scottish campaign of 1385. In terms of relationships he was connected to other Welsh gentry families, to people who might be called Anglo-Welsh, like his wife's people, the Hamners, and to English gentry such as his brother-in-law, Robert Puleston.

The spark for his rising appears to have been a quarrel with his neighbour, Lord Grey de Ruthin, who lived just over the hill from Owain. Some say it was a dispute over land, others that Grey held back a summons from Henry IV for Owain to join the king's invasion of Scotland. My impression of Grey is that he was an aggressive bully, and not particularly bright, but unfortunately (from Owain's point of view) he was also a close associate of the King. (I'm reluctant to say 'friend' as I think even Bolingbroke had better taste.)

Either way between 18th and 23rd September 1400, Owain's supporters attacked Ruthin, Denbigh, Flint, Holt and Oswestry. Henry's response was rapid (he had an army available, having just attacked Scotland) and after eight of those involved in the attack on Ruthin were executed the government felt strong enough to start issuing pardons to those involved and during October to disband most of the forces assembled to deal with the revolt.

Owain and a few supporters made off for the hills, neither pardoned nor reconciled. It must have seemed to Henry IV that this was just a minor local difficulty that had been sorted. His next parliament (otherwise busy with attainting Richard II's supporters) re-enacted penal statutes against the Welsh and added a few bells and whistles for good measure, just to show who was boss. To some extent at least this was prompted by the English minority communities in Wales, who had just had a very nasty scare. But it was scarcely an enlightened piece of statecraft, and it probably served as a wonderful recruitment sergeant for Owain. He was to be back.

Wales and the Mortimers - Heirs of Llywelyn?

It's possible that the early death of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, in 1398 was a factor in the Glyn Dwr revolt, because the Welsh had had high hopes of Roger. He became the first English earl to have an ode addressed to him by a Welsh bard, Iolo Goch, who was subsequently Owain's household bard.

From what little is known about Earl Roger, it appears he was both generous and popular. Indeed it was alleged that the reception he received from the common people at the time of the Shrewsbury Parliament was a factor in turning Richard II against him. Whether this is so or not, it is a fact that soon after Richard recalled him from Ireland, substituting Thomas Holland, Duke of Surrey as Lieutenant of Ireland. Mortimer was killed (in somewhat mysterious circumstances) before this decision could be put into effect.

From the point of view of the Welsh, the most significant fact about Mortimer (apart from the trivial detail that he owned around a third of the country!) was his descent from Llywelyn the Great (Llywelyn Fawr) through Llywelyn's daughter, Gwladus Ddu. In the 1390s it was quite reasonable for the Welsh to look forward to the possible crowning of a King of England with this lineage. (As an aside Adam of Usk claimed that Gwladus's mother was Joan, daughter of King John. This has sometimes been questioned, but it seems to me that Usk is as good a source as any other.)

The death of March and the accession of Bolingbroke killed this dream stone dead. However, as many of you will be aware, the descent from Gwladus was eventually transferred to the House of York in the person of Richard, the third Duke, through his mother Anne Mortimer. This blood descent from the House of Gwynedd was not overlooked in early Yorkist propaganda and was used in an attempt to attach Welsh support to Edward IV, with somewhat mixed success. This is rather ironic in the light of later history, and the Tudors making so much of their Welsh origins, which were, when properly examined, rather less impressive than blood succession to the great Llywelyn.

As far as I am aware Richard III made no attempt to highlight his Welsh ancestry, and in that regard at least he may have missed a trick.

The Glyn Dwr Rising - background

You may not think that the Owain Glyn Dwr rising had much to do with the House of York. However, Edward of York, the second Duke, was heavily involved in suppressing it, it had a major impact on his sister, Constance, and its effect on Wales was to play its part in influencing Welsh opinion during the Wars of the Roses. Given that Henry IV was responsible for the most brutal repression of the Welsh since Edward I was at his worst, including passing legislation that made the ethnic Welsh definitively second-class citizens in their own country, it seems a little odd that Wales became predominantly Lancastrian territory. But so, oddly enough, it was to be.

First, it's important to realise that Wales at this time was not a unified whole, more a geographical and cultural expression. It was divided into a large number of marcher territories, each of which was in effect a small kingdom with its own customs. These lordships did not have representation in Parliament, nor did they pay central taxes or receive visits from the King's justices. The King's writ did not run there. The royal territories in Wales were organised in a similar fashion, under local (usually English but sometimes Welsh) officers.

In the 1390s the marcher lords had become extremely efficient at squeezing money out of their tenants and at the same time tended to be absentee landlords who lived on their English manors.Though, as mentioned above, the Welsh did not have to pay parliamentary taxes, they were far more heavily burdened than their equivalents in England. Between 25% and 80% of the lord's income arose from the proceeds of justice - or what passed for it. The remainder came from various levies - for example communal fines, 'aids' raised when a lord entered his inheritance, and a sort of protection money paid by criminals immigrating from other lordships. Bolingbroke's relatively modest lordship of Brecon produced an income of £1500 a year on this basis. (For comparison the qualification for an earldom at this time was, theoretically, an income of about £667.)

The men of Wales often 'went as soldiers' and Richard II's peace policies created unemployment among this pool of men, and probably added to the discontent. In addition, at the turn of the century, many of the lordships underwent regular changes of ownership as their lords were forfeited, restored, or, as in the important case of the Earl of March, died a natural death. The effect was further disruption of a society that was already far from stable.

It was a case of tinder awaiting a spark, and that spark was soon to be struck.

Source - The most useful single source is The Revolt of Owain Glyn Dwr by R.R. Davies. A very highly recommended book.

Founders and Benefactors Book of Tewkesbury Abbey

This book, which belongs to the Bodleian Library, is online here and some of you may be interested. It includes portraits of the various patrons of Tewkesbury Abbey including Robert Consul, Gilbert de Clare, Hugh Despenser the younger, Thomas Despenser, Isabelle Despenser (she actually gets two illustrations!), Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, Warwick the Kingmaker and George Clarence.

The work dates from early Tudor times and the costumes depicted reflect this, but the extensive heraldry is well worth careful study. For example on Thomas Despenser's page you will find his marital impalement with Constance of York ** and also an illustration of the short-lived impalement of Edward the Confessor's arms with the royal arms used by Richard II from circa 1397-99 as a mark of his devotion to the Saint.

**At least that's what I take it to be - the one that Thomas is more or less pointing at with his right hand. But oddly, the artist has placed Constance's arms at heraldic right (the left as we look at it) and Despenser's at heraldic left. Which is the wrong way round. Theoretically this coat represents a marriage between Edmund of Langley or Edward of York and one of Thomas's sisters! You see, you can't even trust prime manuscript sources completely.

The Fears of Henry IV

Now I have stopped looking for it and don't need it I've found The Fears of Henry IV. Predictably it was within three feet of where I am sitting to write this, in a location where my eyes should fall at least once a day. Yesterday, mysteriously, it was there. I am sure it was not there before and yet logic tells me that it must have been. Spooky!

I haven't got the time or the inclination to do a full review at this time, but if you're at all interested in Henry Bolingbroke it's certainly worth buying. Frankly, it doesn't have much competition as decent books about him are rare. When I was working on Fetterlock my principal source for Henry's reign was History of England under Henry IV by J.H.Wylie. This was written in the late 19th century, and although it contains many details you're unlikely to find anywhere else it gives the impression it was hurriedly thrown together from sheafs of rough notes and chucked straight at the printer without benefit of editor. Ian Mortimer's book is much more suited to the needs of the 21st century reader, or indeed anyone who isn't a total history obsessive.

What I will say about Fears of Henry IV is it does come over as a bit of a hagiography. Mortimer makes no bones about the fact he is telling the tale from Henry's POV, and that's fair enough - probably a lot better than the pretended impartiality of so many historians. But do not open it with the expectation that Richard II will be cut any slack whatsoever, because he isn't. Mortimer clearly thinks he was worse than a thousand Hitlers.

Richard II bibliography

We've pretty much come to the end of Richard II now. The process has reminded me I have a novel planned for him and Anne of Bohemia (one day!) and that in turn reminds me that instead of writing this guff I should be focusing on the present project - the Richard III novel I occasionally mention.

Anyway, I thought I'd offer a Richard II bibliography. It may be of interest to someone. Until quite recently I'd have said that there was too much focus on the Appellant era and not enough on the events of 1397-99, but Saul and Given-Wilson have sorted that problem.

Factual books.

Richard II, Nigel Saul. Highly recommended.
Chronicles of the Revolution, Chris Given-Wilson. Ditto.
Who Murdered Chaucer, Terry Jones. This guy is so pro-Richard II he makes me look like Bolingbroke's best mate. However, there are some interesting aspects in here and it's well worth a look if only to balance some of the negative stuff.
The Hollow Crown, Harold F. Hutchinson. A relatively positive account.
Richard II and the Revolution of 1399, Michael Bennett. Wider coverage of the reign than the title suggests and some interesting details that are not given in other accounts.
The Court of Richard II, Gervase Mathew. What it says on the tin. Mainly about court culture and politics.
The Age of Richard II, (ed) James L. Gillespie. Collection of interesting articles.
Richard II and the English Nobility, Anthony Tuck.
John of Gaunt, S. Armitage-Smith.
The Royal Household and the King's Affinity, Chris Given Wilson. This covers Edward III and Henry IV and is full of interesting stuff.
The Loyal Conspiracy, Anthony Goodman. Vital reading if you want to know about the Appellants.
The Deposition of Richard II: “The Record and Process of the Renunciation and Deposition of Richard II” (1399), (ed) David R Carlson. (Thanks to Dr Gillian Polack for mentioning this one.)

For anyone interested in the House of York in this era, your best bet by far is:

Henry V and the Southampton Plot, by T.B. Pugh. Otherwise it's a case of getting out the Patent Rolls, etc.

Novels.

Within the Hollow Crown, Margaret Campbell Barnes. Rather old-fashioned but one of the few that is wholly about Richard II.
A Summer Storm, Jane Lane. Focuses on the Peasants' Revolt.
The Unravished Bride, Terry Tucker. Does not live up to its rather risque title. If I recall correctly it covers all Richard's reign and a lot is packed into a few pages.

There are quite a few novels set wholly or partly in the era. Most have Richard down as a villain. Some suggestions:

Katherine, Anya Seton. (If there's anyone out there who hasn't read it.)
My Lord John, Georgette Heyer.
The Crowning City, Jennifer Lang.
The Dice in Flight, Martyn Whittock.
Passage To Pontefract, Jean Plaidy.
Monmouth Harry, A. Maughan. (Mainly about Henry V but does feature Richard. To say nothing of 'Elizabeth of York' Edmund of Langley's otherwise unknown second daughter.
Within the Fetterlock, Brian Wainwright. (You thought I was going to write a list like this and not mention this one?? Yeah, right.)
The White Rose of Langley, Emily S Holt. Extremely Victorian in tone - may be read if you are really, really interested in Constance of York. Otherwise probably best avoided.
Under One Sceptre, Emily S Holt. Another Victorian novel with the same health warning, except this is for people with a burning interest in Roger Mortimer, Earl of March.

Henry IV's claim to the throne

If you read some of the Lancastrian accounts, Richard quite cheerfully abdicated; however even mainstream historians nowadays recognise this as propaganda, and it's pretty much accepted that he had to be 'persuaded', a process of wearing-down that took some weeks and apparently included such treats as visits from the Duke of York and his son, Edward. (If the account of this meeting is to be believed Richard was far from 'cheerful' and gave them a large piece of his mind.)

Richard tried to save the 'mystic' side of his kingship, which he claimed he could not resign if he wanted to, but eventually had to settle for the sole concession of being allowed to keep the lands he had earmarked as a source of funds for continual masses for his soul after his death.

In addition the Parliament was persuaded to depose him. This seems a tad superfluous given that he had supposedly abdicated 'willingly' but I suppose it gave the MPs something to discuss. A long list of his 'crimes' was drawn up, the overwhelming majority of which could have been offered as justifications to depose any medieval king. A commission was appointed to inform him of his deposition and withdraw homage.

Those of you who studied Chaucer at school may remember that Henry had a threefold claim to the throne - by conquest, inheritance and 'free' election. The greatest of these was inheritance.

You may think that he had definitely conquered England, and so he had, but if this had been accepted it would theoretically have put everyone's property into Henry's gift. Chief Justice Thirning pointed out this small detail to Bolingbroke, and said something in lawyer-speak that amounted to 'bog off'. Nor was there any election, and Henry wouldn't have wanted one either, as it would have implied he could be unelected.

So that left inheritance. You may recall from an earlier post that Edward III had issued an entail that supposedly gave the crown to John of Gaunt after Richard II, assuming the latter had no heirs. I just can't believe Gaunt did not mention this little gift to Bolingbroke one evening while they were roasting chestnuts together at Kenilworth. It's not the sort of thing that's likely to slip your mind, is it? The inheritance of a crown? People in families remember what Aunt Maud said in 1956 about which cousin should have her gold watch!

In the 1390s it was increasingly common to entail estates and titles on the heir male, and Bolingbroke was undoubtedly Richard II's heir male. If Henry had put this claim forward it would have been respectable, and at least arguable. The odd thing is he didn't. Instead (and apparently reading from a prepared statement like a modern politician) he claimed through his mother and her line back to Henry III.

It is usually said that this trumped the claims of Richard II and the Mortimers. Well so it does, if you really believe that Edmund, Earl of Lancaster was Edward I's elder brother. Otherwise it's pretty weak and (apart from implicitly discarding England's claim to France via Edward III's mother, Isabella) also recognises that the Crown can be inherited through a woman!

In other words, knowing what we know, Henry was declaring that the Mortimers were the rightful heirs to Richard II! It's incredible, but that's effectively what his claim implies.

Why on earth was Henry so chary of claiming through John of Gaunt? Well, some of you may know that back in the 1370s Gaunt had been slandered as a changeling - he was said to be the son of a Flemish butcher. It's an incredible tale, and let me be the first to say that I think it's total nonsense. However this tale was still remembered in the early 1400s. The equivalent, I suppose of the modern conspiracy theories, Diana killed by the Martians and so on. Is it just possible that Henry believed it himself? Surely not!

Yet it would explain why he came up with an hereditary claim that was a nonsense when he had a perfectly reasonable and viable alternative he could have used. It might also explain why he went to the trouble of explicitly excluding his Beaufort half-brothers and sister from the succession.

I apologise to the sane among you for the extreme speculation in this post. Alternative explanations for Henry's bizarre hereditary claim are welcome.

Richard II as prisoner

Once he reached Chester it appears Richard II was treated less courteously. According to Creton he was confined to a room and attended by the sons of Arundel and Gloucester. There's nothing implausible about Thomas Fitzalan being chosen for this job, but most sources agree that Humphrey of Gloucester had been left behind (with Bolingbroke's son, the future Henry V) at Trim Castle in Ireland, where he died at about this time. It's just possible that Creton got mixed up with Thomas Despenser, Earl of Gloucester, which would put a slightly different slant on things, but it seems unlikely.

On at least one occasion on the journey to London the men of Chester (or the Welsh - take your pick) tried to rescue King Richard. It's the sort of thing that Robin Hood would have accomplished at the drop of a feathered hat, but these guys messed up and it just led to Richard being more carefully guarded.

It was about this time that Henry sent off for monastic chronicles, with a view to finding precedents for deposing the King. From subsequent evidence, it appears he was also hoping to find some backing for the absurd 'legend' that Edward I was not Henry III's eldest son! Henry affected to believe Edmund Earl of Lancaster (his ancestor on his mother's side) was the real eldest son, but had been passed over because of some imaginary defect. I need hardly add that this 'legend' was total poppycock, and if Bolingbroke truly believed it, he must have been deranged. I doubt he did, but perhaps thought the mugs might swallow it.

And to think some people say Richard III's claim to the throne was dodgy!

When did Henry Bolingbroke decide to take the throne?

This is an interesting question, and like most similar queries in history there's no incontrovertible answer. Only Henry could tell us for sure, but I'm not inclined to try to contact him by planchette, and he'd probably lie anyway.

Nigel Saul argues that he made the decision quite late in the process, indeed towards the end of August 1399. Ian Mortimer in his near-hagiography of Henry, Fears of Henry IV is confident that Henry had decided to take the throne before leaving France. (That reminds me, that book is still missing! Can the mice have eaten it? Is Henry's spirit playing tricks on me? Nah, he wouldn't have that much imagination or sense of humour.)

I incline more towards Saul's opinion, and that's the line I more or less followed in Within the Fetterlock. It doesn't mean I'm right of course, but here's my reasoning.

1. Henry subsequently quarrelled with his former ally, the Duke of Orleans over the matter. Clearly Orleans, who supported Henry's invasion, had been given the idea that Henry's ambitions stopped short of taking the throne. Orleans was outraged by Henry's accession.

2. Henry made a very public vow at Doncaster that he was not going to take the throne.

Now, you may say, Henry may just have been lying through his teeth all along. And you may be right. After all, if England had been selecting an Olympic Lying Team in 1399, Bolingbroke would have at least made the heats. But I have a feeling he was being honest as he saw it at the time. He didn't have a plan, but responded pragmatically to circumstances as they unfolded before him. (Rather as Richard III did in 1483, but that's a tale for another day.)

I think what changed his mind were the following factors:-

1. He was utterly amazed by the ease with which England dropped into his hands. This gave him an exaggerated impression of his own popularity. (He was soon to be cruelly disillusioned.)

2. The likes of Archbishop Arundel, who hated Richard II with a passion, were persuading him to take the throne.

3. He gradually realised (partly by being persuaded by the likes of the good Archbishop) that the only way to secure his own safety was to take the throne. Richard had a track record of making come-backs, and another of taking revenge. If Richard had somehow managed to regain power Henry would have been a dead man walking, and he wouldn't have been walking for very long.

Fun at Flint

Richard II was taken to Flint Castle , another location that it's still possible to visit, even though the ruins are rather more knocked-about than those at Conwy. He apparently arrived here on the same day he left Conwy, and spent the night, word being sent on to Bolingbroke at Chester.

Next morning Richard rose early and lingered over his breakfast. (He's said to have had little appetite, but maybe by sitting long at the table he allowed his companions to eat at their leisure?) After hearing mass he climbed to the battlements and watched with some alarm as Bolingbroke's army (or whatever part of it was deployed) approached along the shore. Three men spurred ahead of the others - Archbishop Arundel, Edward of York and the Earl of Worcester (Thomas Percy). Richard met this deputation in the keep, but unfortunately we're not told what they said to each other. The transcript would be fascinating, but I think we can take it they didn't talk about the weather or the price of fish. Meanwhile, the Lancastrian forces disposed themselves around the castle, but did not enter.

At this point Richard climbed the battlements again and protested against the show of force. A bit late for that you may think, but it does sort of suggest he was expecting a peaceful settlement. Northumberland went out of the castle and persuaded Bolingbroke not to enter until Richard had eaten - so we can probably assume it was now dinner time. (That's to say round about noon or an hour or two earlier.)

Bolingbroke was literally standing outside the gate. Creton and his companion were introduced to him by Lancaster Herald. Henry told them to have no fear. 'Keep close to me, and I will answer for your lives,' he said. Interesting form of words. By implication, if they wandered about, they could get hurt.

A little later Henry got fed up hanging about and entered the castle. At Northumberland's request Richard, who had been eating in the keep, came down to meet him. Henry immediately bowed low to the ground, then bowed a second time, cap-in-hand, as the King came closer. Richard took off his hood, and welcomed him.

After this show of manners, Henry bowed yet again. 'My lord, I have come sooner than you sent for me and I shall tell you why. It is said that you have governed your people too harshly, and that they are discontented. If it is pleasing to the Lord, I shall help you govern them better.'

'If it pleases you, fair cousin, then it pleases us well,' said Richard.

This is a good example of how one should never take public speeches too literally!

This account is based on Creton, who was an eye witness, as reported by Nigel Saul in his excellent Richard II. The last few posts have also made use of The Royal Household and the King's Affinity by Chris Given-Wilson. For anyone interested in the 1397-1399 period I highly recommend Chronicles of the Revolution 1397-1399, also by Chris Given-Wilson.