Turn of the tide in Wales

The years 1404 and 1405 were perhaps the high point of Owain's rising. During 1404 he had control of almost all Wales, and his enemies were reduced to the occasional foray from one of their remaining garrisons. He was able to conduct diplomacy with France and Scotland, and even to hold parliaments. He removed the Welsh Church from the dominion of Rome and adhered to the rival pontiff at Avignon. He even received French military assistance.

How useful this was is in some question. One suspects the French knights had a bit of a culture shock in Wales. According to some accounts Owain advanced, with French aid, to Woodbury Hill, some eight miles from Worcester, where he was faced by Henry IV and an English army. Neither side feeling strong enough to attack the other, the Franco-Welsh army backed down and retreated.

R R Davies questioned whether this actually happened, and the fact that there is doubt demonstrates the difficulty of adequately describing the Glyn Dwr years, and maybe also the power of myth.

Anyway, in 1405 the famous Tripartite Indenture was signed between Owain, Edmund Mortimer and Northumberland to divide the kingdom between them. This was probably a reaction to the failure to get Mortimer's nephew, March, into their hands, but was a classic case of counting chickens that hadn't been hatched.

Henry IV was preparing a further massive invasion of Wales, but in the event had to take his troops north to deal with Scrope's rising - as usual the rebellious elements failed to get their act together and the King was able to deal with them in detail. Though he had not long since spared his York cousins from execution, Henry was obviously in a ratty mood, as he had Scrope (the Archbishop of York!) and Thomas Mowbray, the young Earl Marshal, summarily beheaded.

Henry fell ill almost at once (divine intervention perhaps?) and was never quite the same man again. His visits to Wales were over for good, but his cause there began to prosper.

In the spring of 1405 Glyn Dwr's forces in the south of Wales suffered heavy defeats in successive battles at Grosmont and Pwll Melyn at the hands of Richard Beauchamp Earl of Warwick and the Talbot brothers. Owain's brother was among the dead and his eldest son, Gruffudd, was captured and apparently spent the rest of his life in the Tower. His brother-in-law, John Hamner, was also captured but got away with a fine of 500 marks, a huge amount for someone of his relatively modest standing.

The rising was far from over, but this was the beginning of the end. In August commissioners were sent to the men of Usk and Caerleon to discuss terms of surrender. Meanwhile, in the north, Gwilym ap Gruffudd ap Gwilym, the most powerful man in Flintshire, surrendered himself to be imprisoned at Chester, along with his brothers and four supporters. Anglesey, the bread basket of Wales, was raided by royal naval forces based in Ireland. The island was to be forced into submission during the following year.

The Big Fight That Wasn't

OK, I know anyone interested enough to read this stuff will be well aware that the Big Fight never took place - because that awkward King Richard II stopped it before the first round even started. By doing so he cheesed off almost everyone alive then and every historian since.

Richard was in a dilemma. If Thomas Mowbray had won, how would old Gaunt have reacted? Let's just imagine Henry Bolingbroke, defeated but not killed, going up for the chop. Would Gaunt have sat there and let it happen? Assuming he did, it wouldn't exactly do much for his relationship with the King, would it? Moreover, Mowbray had proved himself a bit of a loose cannon. Lord knows what he would have done - vindicated in this quarrel - for an encore.

What if Bolingbroke had won? Well, that would give a massive boost to an individual who in Richard's books was already far too popular. Plus it would open up the question of Thomas of Woodstock's death/murder/private execution, which Bolingbroke obviously saw as a Bad Thing. Whereas Richard undoubtedly saw it as a Good Thing, and wanted it forgotten. Preferably yesterday.

So Richard stopped the fight and banished them both, Mowbray for life, Bolingbroke for 10 years. In effect he decided they were both guilty, but Bolingbroke not quite as guilty as Mowbray. Lots of people, then and subsequently, thought this harsh on poor old Henry. In terms of justice they were probably right, but then again, medieval justice, especially in the area of high politics, was not noted for being fair and reasonable.

Bolingbroke was told that if his father died during his absence he would be allowed to inherit, and he was even given power to appoint attorneys to act for him in that event. It appears Gaunt was in reasonable health at this time, and his early death was not anticipated.

Mowbray v Bolingbroke (2)

Henry Bolingbroke, having probably talked the matter over with Daddy, broke his tale to the King on or about 20 January 1398, and repeated it to the Parliament that reassembled at Shrewsbury later that month. Richard's initial response was to strip Mowbray of his offices of marshal and admiral. In addition, although Bolingbroke was granted bail on various sureties (including one from his loving cousin, Edward of York) Mowbray was banged up in the Great Wardrobe in London. This suggests that at this point the King thought Henry was telling the truth.

On 23 February, Mowbray was brought before the Council at Oswestry (right up on the northern border of Wales) and denied everything. This led to both men having to attend a further meeting at Bristol in March, this time appearing before a Committee of Parliament. Given that neither of the parties was going to back down, and there were no witnesses, it was pretty inevitable the quarrel was going to have to be decided by combat, and this was what the Committee decided. The combat to be under the auspices of the Court of Chivalry - Edward of York, Duke of Aumale, Constable, and Thomas Holland, Duke of Surrey, Acting Marshal, presiding.

It was widely felt at the time time that the King should have reconciled the pair - this was apparently the advice of the French King to his new son-in-law, while John of Gaunt was allegedly angry about his son having to fight over 'a thing of naught.' All very well, but easier said than done. Far from coming to terms, Bolingbroke chose to add fresh charges. He said that Mowbray was behind all the treasons of the last eighteen years, as well as pinching funds from the Calais garrison and being responsible for the death of the late Duke of Gloucester.

Arrangements were made for a combat outside Coventry on 16 September, and both parties sent off for mail-order armour for the occasion. Edward of York, as Constable, had the job of organising the Big Fight. If only sponsorship had been invented in those days, they could have made a fortune!

Mowbray v Bolingbroke

You may recall that Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, and Henry (Bolingbroke) of Lancaster, Duke of Hereford had at least one thing in common. They had sided with the Appellants against Richard II in 1387/88 and with Richard II against the other former Appellants in 1397. They were issued with nice new pardons to go with their fancy new titles, but both must have been aware that they were not exactly flavour of the month with the King.

One day in December 1397, near Brentford on the outskirts of London, Henry Bolingbroke was riding along the road, quietly minding his own business. Along came Mowbray, who took him aside, and told him of a massive conspiracy that was going to ruin them both.

This is according to Bolingbroke, and, annoyingly, we only have his side of the story. As usual with historians, when there is only one side to a story available they tend to accept it as being true. I put it to you, Dear Reader, there is a possibility that it could all be a steaming pile of BS.

Anyway, according to Mowbray (according to Bolingbroke) the King was still out to get them for the events of 1386-88. Moreover, there was a court conspiracy to dig up the judgement on Thomas of Lancaster (Edward II's reign, please refer to the excellent Alianore blog for detail) and use it to forfeit the Lancastrian inheritance. The Duke of Surrey (Thomas Holland the King's youngish nephew) and the earls of Wiltshire (Scrope) and Salisbury (John Montagu) had drawn the Earl of Gloucester (Thomas Despenser, York's son-in-law) into a plot to destroy Gaunt and, while they were at it, take out Aumale (Edward of York) Exeter (John Holland, the King's half-brother) and Worcester (Thomas Percy). These last three, plus Norfolk, had taken an oath to resist this. Oh, and the King was trying to bring March into the plot too.

If there was truth behind all this, it would have made the night of the long knives look like a Sunday picnic! What it perhaps does demonstrate was that there were a lot a frayed nerves out there, and that men were looking for friends and fearing potential enemies.

It is true that there was a degree of hostility to and jealousy of John of Gaunt. This was nothing new, it had being going on for almost the whole reign. Something particular was developing in early 1398 because Sir William Bagot was bound over in the sum of £1000, which he would have to forfeit to the King if he was shown to have brought about the disinheritance of Lancaster or his family. A couple of days later he submitted to be executed without further process if he were to kill or put to death Gaunt or any of his family! (If you're interested you can find these amazing documents in the Calendar of Close Rolls 1396-7 pp 291-2). It's worth mentioning that although Bagot was at this point a favoured servant of the King, it was not that much earlier that he had been a retainer of Lancaster.

It seems likely that someone, maybe even the King, was behind Bagot's apparent plotting. However, it does beg the famous question posed by Charles II to his brother. Who would kill me, to have you? King Richard had achieved a modus vivendi with Gaunt. Why on earth would he want to get rid of Gaunt and have Bolingbroke in his place? I don't have a simple answer. Of course, potentially, if you could take out the whole of the House of Lancaster, there would be a huge amount of land and patronage to redistribute. Some ambitious lords may have dreamed of this possibility, but it was, as they say, a Big Ask.

Ironically it was Henry Bolingbroke who, by broaching this story, set in train a series of events that almost did destroy his House.

The Loyal Conspiracy by Anthony Goodman

I've been looking for a cheap copy of The Loyal Conspiracy by Anthony Goodman for some time, and the other day I got lucky and found one, in Southport of all places. (Actually, for UKers among you, Southport is a surprisingly good place to go - there are at least three shops with a respectable stock of proper, second-hand books, the sort of business that used to be common but isn't any more.)

As you may have guessed, the book is about the Appellants, and Goodman broadly sympathises with them, as hinted in the title. At one point he refers to the likes of Bagot and Mowbray having to make the sort of choices that were familiar to many in the 20th century - do you know, I think Professor Goodman is almost comparing Richard II to Hitler and Stalin! Well, folks, I know which of the three I'd prefer to deal with, and it certainly wouldn't be any 20th century dictator.

It is a useful book however, and provides a stack of information about the Appellants. One thing I have noticed, already, is how generous Richard II was to Thomas of Woodstock in the 1390s. As late as 16 April 1397, about three months before he was arrested, he was pardoned a debt of £1074, 1 shilling and eightpence farthing that he owed to the Crown. There's more. Goodman reports Froissart saying that in 1395-6 Woodstock was continuously soliciting favours. (My italics). Poor old Woodstock, scraping along on a meagre £2500 a year, easily 1 million in modern money, how he suffered under that brutal regime! Where do I find a government to tyrannise me on similar terms?