Passage to Pontefract

by Jean Plaidy

  She was by no means a beauty; but she had the freshness of youth and her long golden hair was attractive. The horned head-dress which was so fashionable in Bohemia suited her. The width of it with the horns sticking out at either side helped to widen her high forehead which was rather narrow; and her bright expression of interest in everything around her gave a vitality to her face which made up for the lack of conventional good looks.

  She knew well that her father was not loved by the Germans and that he had been elected as their Emperor only because no one else was available. But it was quickly realised that he was a good and energetic ruler and as he had always made a point of being on excellent terms with the Papacy he had induced Innocent VI to bestow the Golden Bull which had settled the constitution of the Roman Germanic Empire for as long as it should exist, which was a great and beneficial achievement.

  Her grandfather had been blind. He had died on the field at Crécy – fighting on the side of the French of course. The French had always been their allies and that was why it seemed almost certain to Anne that she would be given in marriage to the son of the King of that country.

  All through her childhood Anne had heard stories of her grandfather – the epitome of chivalry … the great knight, who although blind had still insisted on going into battle led by his squires one on either side of him. He had fought gallantly at Crécy for his brother-in-law Philip of Valois against the enemy, the English who were trying to usurp the throne of France, and when he had died there he had been honoured by the Black Prince who had attached his ostrich plumes to his helmet and declared they were the greatest trophy of the day.

  And then her father had come to the throne and now it was his turn to die.

  Nothing seemed stable except friendship with France and loyalty to the Pope.

  She was growing up. Fourteen was not very old – but neither was it young and princesses were not allowed to stay long unmarried.

  Since her father’s death, her mother, who had been her father’s fourth wife, often talked to her seeming to forget as many did the youth of her daughter. Anne was pleased that this should be so. She hated to be treated as a child and she was as able to understand the course of State affairs as well as many older people.

  So with her mother she had often discussed the Court of France, as it had seemed clear to them both in those days that would be her final destination.

  But it seemed there was nothing in life which could be relied on. It was her mother who first told her of the growing strife in Papal circles. This was the beginning of a great schism. There were two Popes – one had now moved to Avignon and one was in Rome. Clement had been set up by the French but the King of Bohemia supported Urban.

  It was impossible to have two Popes. It seemed that the French wanted a Pope who would work for them. This was unthinkable.

  ‘It seems,’ said Anne gravely, ‘that we shall no longer be friends with the French. An issue such as this must certainly make differences between us.’

  ‘You are right, my daughter,’ said her mother.

  They looked at each other steadily assessing what it would mean.

  It was not long before it became clear.

  Wenceslaus sent for his sister.

  ‘You know of this trouble concerning the Pope,’ he said. ‘Our old allies are against us, and any alliance with them would now be out of the question.’

  ‘I understand that,’ said Anne.

  ‘We must stand beside our allies. Germany and Flanders are firmly with us. I am very anxious that England should be also.’

  Anne had heard a little about England. The ageing King had recently died, rather sadly it seemed for he had been one of the great heroes of the age. His fame had spread far and wide; but then he had grown old and senile, some said. He had taken a low woman and set her up in such a manner as to lose the respect of all those around him. His son, the Black Prince, who had taken her grandfather’s plumes at Crécy and done him honour there, and who was at that time considered the most chivalrous knight in the world, was dead. There was a new King, the grandson of Edward. He was young – a year younger than she herself. Yes, she knew something of England.

  It was clear to Anne what was coming. For what other reason should her brother need to tell her he was seeking English friendship.

  ‘The young King is very handsome. He is near your age. I think the English would welcome a match.’

  Anne lowered her head.

  Such was the fate of princesses.

  An embassy had arrived in Prague. It was led by Sir Simon Burley and Sir Thomas Holland, and the purpose of this embassy was to ask for the hand of the Princess Anne for the King of England.

  Anne immediately liked Sir Simon. There was something honest about him and she found the way he spoke of the King very endearing. Of the younger man who was the King’s half-brother she was not so sure. He was amusing; he had charm; he was good looking, but there was a certain superficiality about him which, young as she was, she sensed.

  Their main business, of course, was with her mother and her brother but they did spend a little time with her for they realised that she was a girl of quick intelligence, that her family were aware of this and that although it was expedient that the marriage should take place, at the same time the girl’s preferences might have to be taken into consideration.

  Her mother spoke to her about the negotiations and it was clear to Anne that she was a little anxious.

  ‘We know so little of this country,’ she said. ‘It is so far away. It is true that when the old King lived it was of great account, but during the last years of his reign and the coming of the new King it has lost much of its importance.’

  ‘Sir Simon talks much of the King. He is very young – younger than I; but he is very handsome – so says Simon Burley.’

  ‘My dear daughter, Sir Simon wishes to go back to his masters with our agreement to the match. They are very eager for it.’

  ‘Why are they eager?’

  ‘That is what I should like to know. It can only be because they need us as allies.’

  ‘And do we need them?’

  ‘Everything has changed now we have this rift with the French. But I shall not allow you to go to England if your uncle does not bring back good reports of the place. Yes, my child, your uncle is already on his way to England.’

  Anne said: ‘What good care you take of me!’

  ‘My child you are my daughter; and your marriage is of importance to the country. So much is made of male offspring, but our daughters are very often the ones who strengthen our alliances. But not for anything would I allow you to be unhappy. The King is young – as you say, younger than you. You are not without good sense. I doubt not that as he is young and so are you you could grow up together. Youth is often a good foundation for marriage.’

  They embraced suddenly. They were neither of them inclined to show their emotions but on this occasion the Empress wanted Anne to know that she had her personal welfare at heart and Anne wished to imply that she realised this.

  While they awaited the return from England of her great uncle, she grew to know Sir Simon and Sir Thomas Holland and talked to them often about England and her prospective husband.

  ‘The King of England is fond of his books,’ Simon told her. ‘He likes music. He likes fine clothes. Yes, he is very fond of such materials and jewelled ornaments, but they must be tasteful. I was appointed his tutor by his father and I was always delighted by his love of learning.’

  Anne liked what she heard of him. She would be able to talk to him, to share common interests. She was glad her prospective husband was interested in literature and music. So many kings thought of nothing but extending their power and consequently war was their main preoccupation.

  From his half-brother she learned another side of his character.

  ‘He is very good looking,’ Thomas Holland told us. ‘Quite the most handsome of the family. My half-brother Edward, the one who died, was not nearly so good
looking as Richard. He is tall and very fair. He has what they call in England the Plantagenet look – which is fair hair and blue eyes and fair skin. Richard is a little darker than some of them. His hair is thick and yellow … but darkish yellow. He is very pale but when he flushes – which is often – he is pink and white. The people love him because he is young and so handsome and knows how to smile at them. He is not fond of the joust and does not indulge in it. It’s strange because his father was a great jouster, so was his grandfather. His father was my stepfather you know, so I know Richard as well as most people do. He was always my mother’s favourite.’

  ‘Were you envious of him?’ asked Anne.

  ‘No. I was too old for envy. You see I was the outcome of my mother’s first marriage. After my father died she became the wife of the Black Prince so it was natural that the sons she had by him were more important than we were. We accepted it. Besides we were not the sort to want the cosseting that went to the heir of the throne.’

  ‘Is Richard serious? He is very young for such a position.’

  ‘He is serious. Determined to be a good King. But you know how it is; he is hemmed in with advisers. It won’t always be so. He’s growing up. Why, he’s going to have a wife.’

  Thomas Holland was inclined to be indiscreet.

  ‘His uncle, John of Gaunt, who must be the most unpopular man in England, would like to see Richard married to his daughter.’

  ‘And Richard does not want to marry her?’

  ‘The suggestion cannot be taken seriously. The relationship is too close. But more than that, the people would be against it … simply because she is John of Gaunt’s daughter.’

  ‘Is he so unpopular?’

  ‘I think the people imagined at one time that he was scheming to take the crown. The Black Prince was ailing, so was the King … and John of Gaunt was very ambitious.’

  ‘And was he really trying to take the throne from Richard?’

  Thomas Holland lifted his shoulders and smiled at Anne.

  ‘When you come to England, you will judge him for yourself. The people hate him as much as they love Richard. Richard is the son of the Black Prince and they idolise him … particularly now he is dead. He was the favourite of all … the eldest son, battle honours and all the rest.’

  ‘I know he was at the battle of Crécy where my grandfather was killed.’

  ‘Ah, he was on the wrong side then. He should have been with us. But now of course your country will be with ours. Now that Richard is going to have a wife.’

  Perhaps Richard was going to have a wife. But was he going to have Anne of Bohemia? Everything would depend on what reports were brought back from England.

  When the Duke of Saxony returned to Bohemia, he brought rich gifts for those who served the Princess. He had found Richard a very suitable husband for his niece; and the English had fêted him and made him welcome. He had visited some of their towns; he had admired their ships; he had hunted in their forests. He believed that the marriage would be advantageous to Bohemia and what was of utmost importance the English were prepared to accept Anne without a dowry.

  The Empress was a little nonplussed. They must want the marriage very much, she thought.

  Yes, indeed they wanted the marriage. They were looking for the Emperor’s help in their fight against the French.

  Well then arrangements should go ahead. Anne should make her preparations to leave for England.

  Now that the time had come she suffered qualms of apprehension. She was going to leave her mother and all her family to go among strangers. Even though she had known always that that would be her eventual fate, now that it loomed right before her it must fill her with misgivings.

  Sir Simon and Sir Thomas said good-bye and the embassy returned to England.

  Now she must prepare herself in earnest. It would be so strange to live in a new country. She talked of it continuously with her three sisters, Katherine, Elizabeth and Margaretha. She wondered whether there would be poets and musicians at Court. She had always enjoyed visiting Uncle Wenzel, the Duke of Brabant, for he wrote poetry himself and poets were always welcome at his Court. He was patron of the arts and consequently his Court was lively with interest for her.

  Would it be like that in England, she wondered.

  Katherine said that Sir Simon Burley had told them that Richard was fond of poetry, so that it surely would be.

  Yes, it would be. She would persuade him to encourage the poets. They would have singing and dancing at the Court. She would make it as much like her uncle Wenzel’s Court as possible. Then she would not miss her home. She would not sigh for her father’s palace of Hradschin. England would be her home.

  One day there were messengers at the Hradschin Palace. They had come with all speed from England, and the news they brought was disquieting.

  All over England the peasants were in revolt. They were on the march and their object was to change the old system of rule. They wanted to be the masters, or at least they wanted all men to be equal. And they were succeeding. This would be the end of England as it had been known since the days of the Conqueror. It would be no place for the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor.

  The Empress shook her head emphatically.

  ‘We will forget all about the agreement we have made with England,’ she said.

  But it was not long before more messengers arrived.

  The revolt had been suppressed by the courage and statesmanship of the young King. All was well. The peasants had been dispersed and their ringleaders had been executed.

  All was well in England reigned over by a King who was patiently awaiting the arrival of his bride.

  Anne set out from Prague with the Duke and Duchess of Saxony and a retinue suitable for one of her rank.

  She had said good-bye to her mother and sisters. Her brother Wenceslaus was in Brussels where he was waiting to receive her as she passed through on her way to the coast.

  There were great celebrations and rejoicing in Brussels and Wenceslaus talked with her frequently, always stressing the need to remember that her country looked to her to remember it. She would have the confidence of the King; she must make sure that her new country continued to be the friend of her native land.

  While the party was being entertained in Brussels news was brought to the Court there of the anger of the King of France. He was not going to allow his one-time ally to marry their Princess to his enemy. They had to get to England, had they not? Had they forgotten that to do so they had to cross a perilous sea? No, he was not referring only to the weather; there were ships on those seas – his ships and they were stopping all vessels and were determined to prevent the Princess Anne reaching her bridegroom.

  After much consultation her uncle, the Duke of Brabant, sent an embassy to the King of France to remonstrate with him, and to the surprise of everyone the King of France was persuaded to relent. Not, he was anxious to point out, for love of the King of England. He cared nothing that he should be without his bride. In fact it amused him that he should. But for the sake of his beloved cousin Anne, he would call in those ships which had been filled by fierce Norman sailors, and she should have safe passage to England.

  It was with great relief that the party set out for the coast.

  At Gravelines she met more of the noblemen of her new country for the Earls of Salisbury and Devonshire were waiting there with a guard of five hundred all carrying spears to conduct her to Calais.

  It was not the best time of the year to travel, being December, and it was small wonder that it was necessary to wait for a favourable wind.

  At length the sea was calm enough for them to set sail and they did so. The crossing was made in a day, which was considered a sign of divine providence, but oddly enough no sooner had Anne arrived on land than a violent wind arose. The sea immediately began to writhe in such a strange manner that it was as if some gigantic sea serpent might be lashing it with its tail.

  All those who saw it declared they h
ad never witnessed anything to compare with it. It was unlike a storm. The sea was like a cauldron; the wind was like a hurricane. Those on shore watched with horror and amazement while the ships which had carried the party across the Channel were tossed from side to side, overturned and in a short time torn apart as though they had been made of the flimsiest material.

  Anne’s own ship was rent into pieces and others of the fleet shared its fate.

  It was the most extraordinary phenomenon and many of those who beheld it fell on their knees and prayed to God to set aside His anger.

  The storm – or whatever it had been – stopped abruptly. The wind had gone; the seething waters had subsided; only the flotsam of broken vessels floating on the sea and lying on the beaches was a proof of what had happened.

  There was a deep silence among the watchers. What had it meant? That it was a divine intimation no one doubted.

  Was it anger at the proposed marriage? Some saw it as such, which would mean an ill omen for the King and his bride. Or was it heaven’s way of saying that it was pleased by the arrival of Anne since the tragedy had taken place immediately she was brought safely to land and had the upheaval started shortly before, she and the whole party would surely have been killed.

  The trouble with such omens was that there were always two constructions to be put on them. They were ill for those who wished them to be; but those who were in favour of what was taking place would always be able to turn them to good.

  The journey to London had begun. Her first stop was at Canterbury where Richard’s Uncle Thomas was waiting to receive her.

  Anne was entranced by the sight of the beautiful city within those grey walls which was dominated by that most magnificent of cathedrals made sacred by the shrine of the great Thomas à Becket who had been murdered there two hundred years before and whose memory was as green now as it had been when he had been killed. There also was the tomb of Richard’s father.

  Richard’s uncle Thomas, who was known as Thomas of Woodstock and was the Earl of Buckingham, had the looks of the Plantagenets, being tall, fair and handsome. He was in his mid thirties and performed the greeting with warmth and the utmost courtesy.