The Fears of Henry IV: The Life of England's Self-Made King

by Mortimer, Ian

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  Henry probably left the Cambridge parliament early, judging from the fact that his third son must have been conceived midway through the parliament.65 He returned to Kenilworth to his wife and children and remained with them intermittently into the New Year.66 He and the other Appellants were no doubt hoping that a quieter, less contentious stance would allow a new normality to develop. But in the fourteenth century, when opposition lords lessened their pressure on the king, they became vulnerable. At Christmas, when most of Richard’s opponents returned to their own castles, the king told some of his friends who had escaped the carnage of the Merciless Parliament that now things were safe enough for them to return to court. Sir John Golafre – whose possessions had been distributed to Henry and others – returned openly. So did Sir John Lovell and Sir Thomas Blount, both of whom had fled from the Appellants. A banished clerk, Richard Medford, now resumed his post as Richard’s secretary.67

  In February 1389, the three senior Appellants – the duke of Gloucester and the earls of Arundel and Warwick – gathered again in London. There is no indication that Henry was with them. But then, on 13 February, the king wrote to Henry Reede, armourer of London, ordering him to deliver a breastplate to Henry as a gift from the king.68 Was this a sign of reconciliation? Or was it something else, a warning perhaps?

  Given that Richard invited Henry on to his council shortly afterwards, this gift has come to be seen as a sign of peace. One leading historian of the period has taken it as an indication that Richard was ‘cultivating’ Henry.69 Another has gone further and stated that it ‘marked the growth of a warmer and more intimate relationship between them’.70 But there may have been more to this gift than meets the eye. For a start, there is nothing to suggest that this breastplate was an unusually expensive item; the breastplate which Henry bought in 1388 cost him £1 6s 8d, and it would have taken a far more substantial present than this to make Henry believe that Richard genuinely valued him. And there are good reasons to suspect that this ‘gift’ was not really a gift at all. The day it was given – 13 February – was the anniversary of the judgement on de Vere, de la Pole, Tresilian and Archbishop Neville. The person who had originally owned it, Sir John Beauchamp of Holt, was a man whom Richard had admired so much that he raised him to the rank of baron in a letter patent (the first time this had ever been done) and stood as godfather to his son. Beauchamp had never taken his seat in parliament because he had been executed by Henry and the other Appellants as a traitor. So for Richard to give Henry this particular breastplate on this particular day was an exceptionally loaded present. It reminds us of John of Gaunt going to see Richard in 1385, wearing a breastplate under his gown. Richard may well have been telling Henry that, whatever had been agreed in the Tower in December 1387, he would not forgive him for the proceedings of the subsequent parliament.

  Henry attended the council meeting in the Palace of Westminster on 3 May 1389.71 He was the only one of the Lords Appellant present. Thus he was the only Appellant sympathiser there to see the pro-Appellant chancellor and treasurer sacked, the justices replaced, and the duke of Gloucester and the earl of Arundel removed from the royal council. Henry was appointed to the council in their place, possibly in recognition of the fact that his superior royal status had been the key factor in preventing Gloucester from seizing the throne. Henry can have taken little pleasure in his new position, however, for Richard publicly announced that he would now take responsibility for government on himself once again. He would end the war with France quickly and peacefully. He would justify this to the people through reduced taxation: half the grant for the war was to be returned. In furtherance of this, he immediately despatched a peace delegation; a truce was agreed within six weeks. To Henry it looked very much as though he would never emulate his grandfather, never lead an army in France, never be more than a jousting puppet at the court of King Richard.

  As he rode back to Kenilworth a few days later (where his wife was about to give birth to their third son), he must have been torn.72 On the one hand, Richard had successfully dislodged him from his kinsmen and fellow Appellants. He had also removed Henry’s chances of winning glory in the war. On the other, Henry had apparently managed the transition from Appellant to the royal council. He had prevented Gloucester from seizing the throne, and had prevented Richard carrying out his threat to make Roger Mortimer his official heir. He had survived these problems amazingly well, considering he was still only twenty-two. The problem was that his success was so fragile. As it happened, Richard would never forgive him for riding against de Vere, nor for sanctioning the deaths of so many of his friends.73 His political survival was a delicate balancing act, not a solid achievement. Perhaps he would have need of that breastplate sooner rather than later.

  FOUR

  Iron Wars

  In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,

  And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars.

  Henry IV Part One, Act II, Scene 3

  Battles, plots and parliamentary storms are all exciting and undoubtedly important but they tend to overshadow less dramatic events of equal political significance. While Henry had been arguing with Richard, and tentatively searching for a middle way between the senior Appellants and the king, his father had been seeking his fortune in Spain. After landing in Galicia in the autumn of 1386, John had brought the region under control, albeit with heavy losses. He had then concluded an agreement with João I of Portugal, reinforcing the alliance of 1373 between Portugal and England (which, incidentally, is still in force today: the longest lasting peace treaty in the world). As part of this agreement, his daughter Philippa had married João, and the combined Anglo-Portuguese army had invaded Castile. John, having taken a leaf out of his father’s book and adopted the title of ‘king’ of the kingdom he claimed, seized on the offer of a favourable peace settlement. As part of the deal he gave his daughter Catalina in marriage to the grandson and heir of Enrique de Trastámara, the usurper who had murdered her grandfather. By this John prevented his wife from avenging her father’s death but brought peace to Castile and the guarantee that her family would once again rule. It also brought him a lot of money: one hundred thousand pounds in cash and a valuable pension of ten thousand marks (£6,666) per year. He had been by far the richest man in England before this; now his income had almost doubled. Money, he must have felt, would never again be a worry for the dukes of Lancaster.

  John landed at Plymouth on 19 November 1389, and straightaway travelled towards London. Henry had been intermittently at court that autumn, attending council meetings, and probably rode westwards to join his father as soon as he heard the news.1 As John approached Reading the king went to meet him, a mark of exceptional honour. Richard embraced his uncle, and kissed him, and took the livery collar from John’s neck and put it around his own, saying that he wanted to show ‘the good love felt heartfully between them’.2 Many of those present must have wondered at this; it was quite a turnaround from the days when Richard plotted to have his uncle murdered. But Richard had clearly made up his mind to honour John, just as he had made up his mind that – whatever he thought of Henry personally – it was better to have him on his side rather than against him. As Richard knew, with Lancastrian support he could rule England without worrying that the duke of Gloucester would try to depose him.

  After this show of reconciliation, Henry and his father withdrew to Hertford Castle for Christmas and the New Year.3 They returned to Westminster in January 1390 to attend parliament. The main business on the agenda was the second Statute of Provisors, which sought to strengthen the legislation stopping the pope providing clerics to English benefices. The labour legislation of the Cambridge parliament was confirmed and reinforced, and the anti-livery petition of 1388 was enacted, although much watered down from the commons’ original demands. On 16 February Richard confirmed the palatinate duchy of Lancaster as an inheritable possession of the Lancastrian house, probably in response to John’s request, with an assumed long-
term benefit to Henry. Nine days later, Henry’s cousin, Edward of York, was created earl of Rutland. Henry witnessed the confirmation of this grant on the last day of the parliament, 3 March, perhaps a little suspicious of Richard’s motives.

  A few days later, Henry left the country, to take part in a tournament in France. It was perhaps the easiest way to remove himself from the court intrigues. When his father had been threatened by Richard in 1385, he had responded by planning an overseas trip. He had returned to a royal embrace. Maybe the magic of an overseas trip would work for Henry too? Even before the end of the parliament, Henry was packing his bags.4

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  The jousts at St Inglevert are among the most famous of the entire middle ages. The renowned French knight Sir Jean le Maingre, or ‘Boucicaut’ as he was better known, had challenged all comers to joust in March 1389.5 He and two other famous French knights – Renaud de Roye and Jean de Saimpy – proposed that the three of them would encamp at St Inglevert and would ride five strokes, or courses, against anyone who cared to challenge them in the space of thirty days. And if one of them was badly injured or killed, the remaining two would take on the responsibility of fighting all challengers, down to the last survivor.

  John of Gaunt – who had seen Boucicaut joust in Gascony – was impressed and ordered his own herald to carry news of the challenge throughout England. Of course John exhorted his chivalric son and heir to take part. Henry and a large number of English lords and esquires departed some time after 13 March.6 Thomas Mowbray, Henry’s fellow Appellant, went with him. So too did his violent brother-in-law, John Holland, a number of very experienced knights, including Lord Beaumont, Thomas Clifford and Sir Peter Courtenay, and a vast crowd of patriotic noncombatants.

  It is not difficult to see the reason for the excitement. The three French protagonists had offered all their opponents the opportunity to fight with uncapped steel lances. These ‘jousts of war’, as they were called, were exceptionally dangerous. As a result, they were very rare events. So all attention at St Inglevert was fixed on a fine spruce tree which stood beside the jousting field. Two shields hung from its lowest bows. Each challenger was expected to strike one of the two shields with a wand, in true Arthurian fashion. One shield meant a joust of peace, with lances capped. The other meant a joust of war, with sharpened steel lances, which often resulted in severe injury and death. A herald sat in the tree from sunrise to sunset each day, and recorded the name, title and nationality of each challenger.7

  The most accurate details of the jousts are preserved in the monastic chronicle of Saint-Denis. The lists of contenders recorded therein seem to be based on the lists composed by the heralds sitting in the spruce tree. The monk of Saint-Denis, however, was not particularly interested in which knight did what; he only made special note of the deeds of the three Frenchmen and one group of Englishmen. It is Froissart’s chronicle which provides the most detail with regard to the actual strokes. Froissart was not an eyewitness of events himself, and unfortunately his source only stayed for the first week, so we do not have an eyewitness account of Henry’s feats of arms; but nevertheless from other accounts we can see that Henry acquitted himself very well indeed.8

  The great event began with three days’ feasting, from Friday 18 March to Sunday the 20th. The next day, the first day of combat, John Holland, earl of Huntingdon, rode up to the shields, determined to prove himself. He took the wand and struck the shield demanding a joust of war. As Boucicaut strode out of his pavilion, he was sporting a new motto emblazoned on his arms: ‘whatever you want’. Holland mounted his horse. With his minstrels playing behind him, he rode to the end of the lists. Crowds gathered around, and he stood there, said the chronicler, ‘in a very exalted manner’ and waited while his esquires fastened his helmet. Boucicaut and the earl then faced each other, with the crowd chanting their names. They began to gallop. Froissart and the biographer of Boucicaut differ as to which lance strike it was exactly when Holland’s shield was broken in half by Boucicaut’s lance, and which strokes he rode against Boucicaut and which against de Saimpy; but clearly the earl sustained a series of blows. Sparks flew from their helmets as the steel lance tips struck them. At one point Holland’s helmet came off. At another, their war horses collided. But at the end of the five strokes, Boucicaut was still unbeaten.

  The next knight to try his luck was Thomas Mowbray, who also struck the shield for the joust of war. His opponent was Renaud de Roye. At the first stroke their horses shied away from each other. At the second, de Roye’s lance broke, and Mowbray caught his opponent, but not hard enough to unseat him. At the third, de Roye struck Mowbray so hard on the helmet that he broke the straps and left Mowbray stunned, reeling. Mowbray had done well, but he could not complete his five strokes of war against the Frenchman.

  So it continued. That day, eight more men jousted against the French: Thomas Clifford, Lord Beaumont, Sir Peter Courtenay, John Golafre, John Russell and Thomas Swinburn.9 The three Frenchmen outlasted all of them. The next day, after hearing Mass and sharing a cup of wine, they survived ten or eleven more challengers, all of whom demanded jousts of war.10 By this time, no one could ask for a joust of peace, with capped lance tips. To do so would seem cowardly. On the Wednesday, the three Frenchmen rode against thirteen challengers, and apparently wounded all of them.11 On the Thursday they fought against at least seven more.12 By the evening of that fourth day, they were exhausted. There followed four days of feasting and pleasant pastimes, and honourable receptions for those who were just arriving from England, Hainault, Lorraine and further afield: Germany and Bohemia.

  Henry was in his element. His new friend, Boucicaut, was just seven months older than him. The Frenchman was charming, affable and hugely talented. He had good stories to tell of his father and his own deeds of valour. Henry might have been jousting in public from the age of fourteen, but Boucicaut had been fighting since he was a page, taken on his first campaign at the age of twelve. He had been knighted on the eve of his first battle, at the age of sixteen. He had twice fought with the Teutonic Knights in the crusades against the Lithuanians. In addition he had fought in Spain, the Balkans and the Middle East. But as they feasted together, Henry would have realised that there was more to the man than that. As Boucicaut’s chronicler noted, he was abstemious, and did not revel in food and drink, but rather concentrated on what was good for his fighting skills. Moreover, he was as pious as he was single-minded in his pursuit of martial glory. He had even been to the Holy Land. To Henry he was a kindred spirit, and Henry lavished gifts on him and his companions. Only one shadow crossed his mind: he would yet have to ride against him, and with uncapped steel lances. Henry could not be seen to be the first one to strike the shield for the joust of peace.

  The fifth day of jousting saw John Holland return to the lists, and Thomas Mowbray too. Boucicaut and Renaud de Roye dealt with them and nine more men, but they were both so badly injured by the end of the afternoon that they had to be taken to their beds for medical help. Their challenge now rested entirely on the one remaining knight, Jean de Saimpy. Fortunately for him, he did not have to joust all nine days; Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter weekend and Easter Monday intervened, and as these were religious feasts, no jousting took place. Jean de Saimpy had to hold his own for just two days, but even that meant facing a further fifteen men single-handed. He did so, and remained undefeated, to the ecstatic applause of the Frenchmen in the crowd. The challenge was still on. Thursday 7 April saw Boucicaut and de Roye back to full strength. Eight men from Germany and Bohemia clashed with them that day. The next day was a Friday, so was spent feasting and dancing. Then came the weekend, with religious observances on the Sunday. The next strokes would take place on Monday 11 April. It was Henry’s turn.13

  John of Gaunt had written in advance to Boucicaut asking him to show his son a lesson or two; would he therefore do Henry the honour of riding not five strokes with him but ten? This may have been meant literally, but Henry was the same age
as Boucicaut and an experienced jouster; he did not need tuition. John was probably teasing his son.14 Boucicaut could not refuse such a request from the duke of Lancaster, whether in jest or not. With Henry were his second cousin, Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy, John Beaufort (Henry’s half-brother), John Courtenay, Thomas Swynford, and five other men. With all of them in armour, and the flags flying around the lists, and the crowds chanting his name, Henry closed the visor on his war helm and spurred his war horse forward, hooves thudding into the turf. He rode all ten strokes with Boucicaut, to great cheers.

  At the end of the day the three Frenchmen were still alive, and so was their challenge, and great was their honour indeed. But they had very nearly come to grief. Jean de Saimpy could not take a further part in the competition; Henry afterwards gave him a new saddle, presumably having destroyed the old one with his lance.15 Not even John Holland had given the Frenchmen such a hard time. At the end of the tournament, on or about 13 April, after two more days’ jousting, the Frenchmen judged Henry and his companions the most praiseworthy of all those who had challenged them.16 How much of an impact Henry made may be seen in that one French chronicle names him alone out of all the knights – more than a hundred – who attended.17 Boucicaut was profoundly impressed. Would Henry care to join him on the duke of Bourbon’s forthcoming crusade to Tunis? Then they could travel together to the crusade in Prussia. Henry must have felt the golden path to glory had suddenly been revealed.