Tudor Dawn: Henry Tudor is ready to take the crown... (The Tudor Saga Series Book 1)

by David Field

  There were also two other matters that required his urgent attention. The first was ensuring that Uncle Jasper did what was required of him in the matter of his marriage to Katherine Woodville. Jasper would marry Katherine in Wales only a week before the first Parliamentary session, and Henry wanted him back in time for that. However, Jasper in his mid-fifties was no longer the dashing young spark who could ride through the night from one adventure to another, and he would be returning with his bride after only the briefest of wedding celebrations, while the new Duchess of Bedford, although not yet thirty years of age, could hardly be expected to thunder across England like some highway robber escaping the law. Henry had therefore ordered an entire royal progress, in order to ensure that the newlyweds would travel with both comfort and speed, and had underlined it by placing himself and his mother at the head of the guest list.

  There was also the urgent matter of a papal dispensation. The entanglement of families that had led to the dynastic strife between York and Lancaster that Henry hoped to have suppressed for good had resulted in Henry and Elizabeth being related, by marriage, in the fourth degree. Given the strict provisions of the ‘canons of consanguinity’ by which marriage was governed under the law of Rome, it was necessary to obtain Papal dispensation before their union would be recognised as lawful throughout the Christian world.

  Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville had already obtained one — secretly — during the final year of Richard’s reign, but the need for secrecy had resulted in a degree of anonymity in the resulting document, which referred only to ‘Henry Richmond’ and ‘Elizabeth Plantagenet’. However, Henry wished to leave not the remotest possibility that the validity of his impending marriage might be challenged at a later date, and any heirs to the throne thereby bastardised, so he sent John Morton on a mission to Rome for something more specific, and while he awaited Morton’s return, Henry did nothing towards the planning of his own wedding other than commissioning the ring.

  This did not mean that he hid from his bride-to-be, however. Henry and Elizabeth spent many happy afternoons, suitably chaperoned, listening to musicians, playing cards, planning the royal apartments and dreaming up names for the many children that they hoped to have between them. Elizabeth was aware that they were awaiting Papal dispensation before they could tie the knot, and Henry had also promised that before that happened he would arrange for Elizabeth’s official bastardy to be revoked. Those late autumn and winter afternoons spent holding Elizabeth’s hand by the roaring fire in her suite of rooms would remain among Henry’s favourite memories as the storm clouds gathered round the throne in later years.

  IV

  Henry faced his first Parliament — a joint sitting of the Lords and Commons — in the White Chamber

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Henry began, ‘you need have no fear that you have been summoned here in order to approve new taxes. As your new monarch, it is my wish to live within the means that fall naturally to me from my estates, and I will only seek to levy new taxes in times of urgent need, such as the invasion of our ream by a foreign power.’

  The collective sigh of relief was clearly audible, as Henry continued with the most endearing smile he could summon.

  ‘First, on a matter touching and concerning the rights of this assembly, the Commons is currently without a Speaker. It is my wish that your new Speaker, the man I have already appointed as my Chancellor of the Exchequer, be Thomas Lovell, but he is currently under an attainder imposed by the late usurper of the throne, Richard of Gloucester. To avoid any further such injustice, and in view of Lovell’s valiant actions on my behalf when we defeated Gloucester in battle, I hereby formally remove that attainder, and ask that you now elect Thomas Lovell as your Speaker.’

  Given the unpopularity of the position anyway, and the gracious reward for loyalty that Henry was granting to one of the most popular members of the Commons, there was a hasty response of ‘aye’ and ‘so be it’ from almost every member of it who was present. Having now in effect ensured that ‘his man’ was in nominal control of the entire Commons half of the Parliament, while the nobles in the Lords stood to lose the most by antagonising the new King, Henry moved on to the next items of business with renewed confidence.

  ‘As your first item of business, I seek confirmation from you that Parliament recognises my title to the throne of England, as symbolised by the placing of the crown on my head by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Not only that, but that this right came by conquest on the twenty-first day of August past. Bearing in mind my undertaking to raise no new tax immediately, are there any among you who would wish to debate this simple matter?’

  Given that many of those present had already pledged their fealty to him, and stood to lose their estates if they said otherwise, the general muttering that followed was largely affirmative, and the newly-created Speaker, who owed his elevation to Henry anyway, simply shouted, ‘You have our confirmation of both of those matters, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ Henry responded with a slight bow of his head. ‘Now that my authority as your King is placed beyond all challenge, I hereby remove all attainders imposed during the period of supposed rule by Richard of Gloucester, other than those imposed by me on certain nobles, now in sanctuary, who escaped from the field when Gloucester was defeated by my armies. There may of course be attainders imposed by me in appropriate future cases, but hopefully that will never prove necessary.

  ‘On the subject of Gloucester’s misrule, it is my dearest wish that this Parliament repeal that most iniquitous Bill forced upon your predecessors, and known as the “Titulus Regis”. Its primary purpose was to render the late King Edward and his family illegitimate, Edward because of his alleged parentage, and his children because Edward was allegedly not lawfully married to the now Queen Dowager. As you will know, it is also my wish to take, as my Queen, one of the daughters of that marriage, Elizabeth of York, and I feel sure that you would agree that it would not be good for the image of England among the crowned heads of Europe for your King to be known as someone who married a bastard.’

  Again, only the briefest of muttering, accompanied by the vigorous nodding of heads, preceded the Speaker’s assurance that ‘It is repealed, Your Majesty.’

  ‘I thank you for your loyal support on a matter close to my own personal happiness,’ Henry responded with a beaming smile that was almost genuine. ‘It is my intention, which I now declare before you, to delegate the day-to-day decision making on internal matters of State to a council of leading office-holders under the Crown who will henceforth be known as my “Privy Council”. You have my undertaking that any matters that pertain to England’s foreign affairs, or that are likely to result in the imposition of additional revenue burdens on the people you represent, will be referred to you as is your right and entitlement. But otherwise, routine government shall be by Council.

  ‘Finally, you will recall my sincere undertaking to live within my private needs, and without the necessity for new taxes. Part of the traditional direct income of the Crown comes, as you will know, from customs revenues, which are within the province of this assembly to grant or withhold. Rather than trouble you annually with an item of business that may be disposed of this day, for once and all time coming, I ask that you grant these traditional customs revenues to my household for the duration of my reign.’

  Given that, during the periods of office of even the longest-serving member, this right had been granted to each incoming monarch for their lifetimes as a matter of course, the members saw no reason to quibble, even had they been in the mood, and Henry had obtained from his first Parliament everything he had sought from it. There were a few private Members’ Bills that were of no direct concern to Henry when they were raised, and he cheerfully waved them through before thanking the members for their attendance, and assuring them that he would not be troubling them again for the foreseeable future.

  Then, as the members made their exit from the Chamber, Henry rose as a sign of respect
from the throne he had been occupying, on a slightly raised dais, for the entire proceedings, and stood smiling, nodding, and occasionally bowing, to those who were heading for the massive rear doors. As he was coming to the end of this display of humility, Jasper walked onto the dais and placed a warm congratulatory hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Well done, Henry!’ he said, ‘I would never have anticipated such inspired statecraft from my nephew. You had them eating out of your hand!’

  ‘And woe betide anyone who bites that hand,’ Henry muttered as he turned abruptly on his heel and left the Chamber by the private door on his way to Coldharbour.

  The following morning, Henry met, by prior arrangement, with Sir Reginald Bray, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, which since the days of Henry IV had been a royal estate, with its revenues payable directly to the Crown. The information that Sir Reginald had to impart was hardly encouraging.

  ‘It is riddled with corruption, Your Majesty, made possible by the confusion and uncertainty of the days of the usurper Gloucester. As a consequence, much revenue that should have fallen into the royal coffers has been either diverted or withheld completely — with, I am sad to say, the active connivance of those who should be upholding the laws of the realm in your name.’

  ‘Give me an example,’ Henry muttered, his face set in displeasure.

  ‘Well, Your Majesty, take the estate of William Higham, lord of Tutbury, in Staffordshire. Being bona vacantia, its lands should have reverted to the Crown under the normal operation of the law when William died without heir. Instead, it seems that it was sold by Sir Geoffrey Wingate, the feudal administrator, to Richard Malvern, for seventy marks. When I made enquiry, it seems that the deed of sale was witnessed by Roger Littledale, Your Majesty’s justice of the peace for the county, and — if rumour be correct — he was bribed to do so by Sir Geoffrey.’

  ‘Disgraceful!’ Henry responded. ‘Take the necessary steps to have Roger Littledale relieved of the burden of his office, and replace him with someone more trustworthy.’

  ‘Gladly, Your Majesty, but is that not something within the authority of the Justiciar?’

  ‘Leave the Justiciar to me. If he complains, the response is surely that, as Chancellor of the Duchy, you are empowered in all matters relating to its management, and that royal estates fall outside the purview of the officers of State.’

  ‘It shall be as you instruct, Your Majesty.’

  ‘By how much have we been robbed, by such devious practices?’

  ‘It is almost impossible to calculate, Your Majesty, given the corruption in public office that seems to accompany such underhand dealings. But it would seem, by reference to the rolls for the years immediately prior to your accession, that the Duchy is now worth less than half what it was — perhaps slightly less than fifteen thousand pounds in this current year.’

  ‘If it is thus in the Duchy, which is subject to closer scrutiny than other sources of royal revenue, then it must be even worse in the Exchequer,’ Henry observed. He turned to a page who was standing quietly in a corner, awaiting any royal command. ‘Seek out Sir Thomas Lovell, and have him attend us.’

  The page bowed out with the message. For the next hour or so, Henry became increasingly angry as he listened to the litany of malfeasance that Sir Reginald had to relate, almost fearfully, as he watched the royal ire rising. By the time that Sir Thomas was ushered into the presence, Henry was red in the face.

  ‘Good Sir Thomas,’ Henry said in a measured tone that was clearly intended to control the obvious anger betrayed by his countenance, ‘how go matters in the Exchequer?’

  Sir Thomas bowed uncertainly, and did his best to be tactful.

  ‘Your Majesty, I have but recently become its Chancellor, as you know, and there are certain senior office bearers who seem determined to keep from me the true state of the Exchequer.’

  ‘Dismiss them this very day, on my authority,’ Henry spat back, ‘and return tomorrow in the forenoon with more detailed intelligence of how woeful are the financial affairs of State. Make particular note of any evidence of corruption and deceit that you may discover, that I may punish those responsible.’

  ‘It shall be done, Your Majesty,’ Sir Thomas promised as he bowed out of the presence, thoroughly relieved to have escaped what threatened to be a storm of royal rage. The next morning he returned, to find Sir Reginald Bray once more in attendance, and he did his utmost to soften the blow.

  ‘I have as yet discovered nothing of a dishonest nature, Your Majesty,’ he began, ‘but I am sad to report that matters are much delayed. Due to recent disruptions and uncertainties... ’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Henry replied testily, ‘so much for their excuses — and spare me any of your own. When was the last completed audit of the rolls?’

  ‘In truth, Your Majesty, there has been no audit since the year before the late usurper Gloucester fell from power. Even that audit was open to criticism, in that it was not initialled by the chief Receiver, but only one of his deputies. It would seem that office holding within the Exchequer has become something of an uncertain matter, open to argument and private warfare between several Deputy Keepers.’

  ‘We clearly need to clean the stables,’ Henry muttered irritably. ‘I do not hold you responsible personally for what has been allowed to happen,’ he assured Sir Thomas, ‘but in return for the advancement and preferment that you have received at my hand, I will expect matters to improve. Have particular regard, in the first instance, to the receipt and transmission of customs revenues, since they remain, as you are well aware, for the benefit of the royal purse. Sir Reginald here may well be of great assistance to you in this regard, since he has, as I know from personal experience, the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to snuffling out corruption and false dealing.’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Sir Thomas replied dutifully. ‘Do you wish me to speak with the Chamberlain of your household, regarding how much has recently been consigned to his husbandry?’

  ‘It might perhaps be wise counsel to do so. Would you, in addition to your other duties, be prepared to supervise him as “Treasurer of the Household”?’

  ‘I would deem it yet another honour, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Consider yourself appointed,’ Henry replied with a knowing smile, ‘and remember my preferment of you should you learn of any disloyalty by others. As for you, Sir Reginald, I wish you to draw up a list of all those justices of the peace and other law officers who have been malfeasant in the performance of their duties. The corridors of royal justice would also appear to be in need of a stiff broom. You may now both withdraw.’

  Both men did so in no doubt that financial and legal mismanagement would soon be a thing of the past.

  A month later, Sir Thomas was back to present Henry with a list of those in the Exchequer who had been dismissed, and those who had replaced them. Just as he turned to leave, he hesitated and looked back at Henry.

  ‘Your Majesty, in my capacity as Speaker of the Commons, might I respectfully raise with you a delicate matter that has of late become of concern to the Members?’

  ‘Which is?’ Henry enquired suspiciously.

  ‘The matter of the royal marriage, Your Majesty. It is felt that until England has heirs to the throne, it will be ever plagued with uprisings and rebellions. You have declared your intention to marry the Lady Elizabeth of York, and I have been requested to ask, with all humility and due regard to your personal dignity, when it is intended that the marriage shall take place.’

  ‘I thank you and the Members for your concern,’ Henry replied with a smile, ‘and you may assure them that Lady Elizabeth and I are deeply aware of the significance to the security of the realm of our intended marriage, quite apart from the personal joy that it will bring to have such loving hearts united. But I may tell you privily that it shall not take place until Morton returns from Rome with a dispensation that he is seeking in my cause from the Pope. But, since you are so minded to jog my arm in the matter, I shall con
sult with the Lady Elizabeth regarding a suitable date, and send word to you all by royal proclamation.’

  Henry kept his word, and the happy couple selected 18th January of the following year, hoping that this would be sufficient time for Morton’s return with the all-important piece of paper, even though they were technically covered by the dispensation already granted in their natural names. No expense was spared, and much velvet was purchased from London merchants during the weeks immediately prior to Christmas, both for the royal dress (blue) and the royal bed hangings (red and blue). A new feather mattress was installed in the Painted Chamber, the most luxurious chamber in Westminster Palace, and around it was constructed a brand new four poster bed with richly embroidered coverlets encompassing all the colours of the rainbow.

  The long looked-for dispensation arrived two days before the ceremony, which was conducted, as tradition demanded, by the Archbishop of Canterbury in Westminster Abbey. Her father being dead, Elizabeth was given away by a surviving Woodville uncle, while one of her aunts, Katherine, Duchess of Bedford, was her matron of honour, with the remaining daughters of York, Cecily, Anne, Katherine and Bridget, as her bridesmaids. The best man — by instant agreement between Henry and his mother — was Jasper, Duke of Bedford, and the two royal mothers — Queen Dowager Elizabeth and Margaret, the King’s Mother — were allocated places of honour immediately behind the bridesmaids in the bridal procession that took place under a deafening fanfare from a dozen royal heralds, heartily blowing a piece they had composed especially for the occasion, and had been rehearsing for weeks.

  The wedding feast was a fifty-course affair celebrated in the White Chamber, the only one large enough to accommodate the over one hundred guests. Minstrels played, jugglers juggled, and mummers performed a distraction especially written for one performance only, featuring prancing red dragons, and fireworks for the cannons that symbolically blew away a giant white boar. Then it was time for the wedding night, for which members of the Household had dug deep into their precedent books.