Historical Britain Blog

Henry V, The Man Behind the Myth

Posted on July 26, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

I think Henry V was one of the more inscrutable kings—not least because the great bard took him in hand. Shakespeare’s play has, of course, immortalized Henry, giving him a fabulous speech on St. Crispin’s Day that still sends chills down our spine. Well, you know what I mean. There is no doubt that Henry V elevated the Lancastrians from usurpers to heroes, which was very possibly the reason he launched his French invasion in the first place. God was on his side, and after Agincourt no one dared suggest he didn’t deserve to sit on the throne.

If you had a chance to read my previous novel, THE ACCURSED KING, you would have seen Henry in his formative years. He was not the favorite son; the one-year younger Thomas filled that slot. I suspect this was because Thomas was the only son to accompany Henry Bolingbroke when he was exiled by Richard II. Before that, their father was so busy gallivanting around Europe he had very little time to spend with his family. Young Henry’s mother died in childbirth when he was eight, and the children were farmed out to relatives. During his father’s exile, twelve year-old Henry served as hostage to the king, and he accompanied Richard II to Ireland. He was favoured by the childless king, and Richard knighted him on campaign. When the king was usurped, young Henry was appalled, and I’m sure the stress between him and his father was intense. As first-born, Henry was given the titles due to the heir of the throne, and he was pragmatic enough to accept what fate had handed down to him. But as soon as he was crowned, one of the first things he did was give Richard II a proper burial.

King Richard knights young Henry, Harley ms 1319 f005r Wikipedia

As Prince of Wales, Henry was given full responsibilities. He spent eight years subduing the rebellious Welsh, learning much about warfare in the process. In 1403, when he was seventeen, he engaged in the full-scale Battle of Shrewsbury against the Percies, where he received an arrow in the face that nearly killed him. In 1410 he actually took control of his father’s council, since Henry IV’s illness had nearly incapacitated him, though a year later he was summarily dismissed when he and his uncle Bishop Beaufort reportedly suggested Henry IV retire. Then he spent a couple of years in enforced inaction.

Shakespeare gives us a lively tale of young Hal traipsing around town, drinking, causing trouble, and hanging about with disreputable characters (sorry, Falstaff was a made-up charlatan). As usual, this version of Hal went down in the history books as fact. But really, between fighting the Welsh and running the government, when could he have had the time? It’s possible that the two years he was in disgrace gave him the opportunity to proverbially let his hair down. This may have been the only time in his life he had a chance to enjoy himself. But by all accounts, he really did sober up the night his father died, and redefined himself as a serious, resolute leader ready to step into his father’s shoes. I just don’t believe his personality changed. He was ready for the task, and embraced it wholeheartedly.

It is said that Henry was well-loved by his companions and retainers. He was sincerely pious—to a fault, many historians state. He surrounded himself with bishops and clerics and took them on campaign, attended three masses in a row (I think every morning, but I’m not certain). Throughout his life, he didn’t waste time with flowery orations, and gave concise, common-sense responses like “No, that’s not acceptable” or “Yes, that’s possible”. In ordinary circumstances, he was very approachable and even sociable, as records of his losses at cards attest. He loved music, played the harp, and kept a large group of minstrels at his side, even on campaign. However, when the situation called for it—like a surrender after sieges—he exhibited an arrogance that intimidated his enemies.

As a commander, he demanded absolute obedience. His army was reportedly even better behaved in France than the French soldiers; there was no random violence against peasants, women and clergy for the most part. It was his intent that the French should come to see him as a better leader than their own incompetent king. As we know from the famous incident before Agincourt, he didn’t hesitate to hang a soldier who stole a pyx from a local church. At the same time, he did his best to take care of his troops. When he lay siege in the winter, he made sure to build little wooden houses for his own soldiers to shelter in. For the most part, food and supplies were shipped over from England rather than live off the land. Rarely did his besieging army suffer the pangs of hunger.

Nonetheless, a closer look at Henry’s deeds and behavior—especially during his Norman invasion after 1417—gives us some cringe-worthy moments. It can be terribly difficult not to judge Henry from our modern point of view. He was a product of a violent society, where human lives had little value unless you were of the upper classes. Might made right, and chivalric ideals didn’t necessarily include sympathy for the downtrodden. No one gave any thought to poor farmers whose crops were devastated and homes burned to the ground. It was commonly stated that the French occupying forces actually did considerably more damage than the English (France was in the middle of a civil war when Henry invaded).

Battle of Agincourt from ‘St Albans Chronicle’ – Wikipedia

One of the more damning stains on Henry’s reputation was during the battle of Agincourt. He ordered the prisoners to be killed when he was convinced that the enemy were gathering to attack again. Many modern historians are appalled at the order, which seems ruthless in the extreme. However, this wasn’t the first time prisoners were killed on the field of battle. It happened at Aljubarrota in 1385 when John of Portugal ordered prisoners killed so they could fight the Castilians. In an even more cold-blooded example, on the morning after the battle of Halidon Hill in 1333, Edward III ordered the beheading of over 100 Scottish prisoners. There are other examples, too much to describe here. It is significant that no one can find contemporary denunciations of Henry V’s decision at Agincourt. What he did was apparently within the acceptable code of war at the time. He may have regretted the killing, but he thought it was necessary.

Later on, during his second invasion of France after 1417, Henry’s attitude became more unforgiving. After one siege, he insisted on hanging a trumpeter that repeatedly annoyed the English with his derisive blasts from the battlements. He hung Scottish prisoners after the siege at Melun because they dared fight against him. Most of these petty retributions occurred after sieges, when he was angry at the resistance that caused the deaths of many Englishmen.

I think modern historians are harder on Henry V then contemporaries. But I’ll leave you with this quote from the great K.B. McFarlane, mid-century Oxford historian whose research was unparalleled: “It pleases lesser mortals to detect the Achilles’ heel of the great ones that live in the world’s eye; but by whatever standards he is judged, Henry was superlatively gifted: his only weakness was the physical one from which he died. He was born to rule and to conquer… Take him all round and he was, I think, the greatest man that ever ruled England.” (Lancastrian Kings and Lollard Knights) That’s informed judgment I would find it hard to argue with!

Why Harfleur before Agincourt?

Posted on July 20, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Siege with Cannons from *Vigiles de Charles VII* Wikipedia

Shakespeare touches on Harfleur in his famous play about Henry V, and I had always wondered what the significance of this siege was. Was it just a stepping-stone to Agincourt? Well, I discovered that the short answer is no. Agincourt was the unexpected battle; Harfleur was definitely on the agenda. When Henry launched his campaign in late summer of 1415, his destination was a well-kept secret. The French were so busy fighting their own civil war, he suspected they didn’t have the resources—or the incentive—to guard their coast against invasion. But of course, Henry couldn’t be sure. Only his pilots knew for certain where he was headed, but Harfleur was a good choice. Located at the mouth of the Seine, it had a strong walled port and was frequently used as a starting point for pirate raids and French attacks on England. Even better, the Seine led to Rouen and ultimately, Paris. Control of the Seine opened the way for many possibilities.

Henry V, from Nat’l Portrait Gallery, London (Wikipedia)

Initially, Henry V’s intention was to reclaim his patrimony in Normandy; many historians call it the Norman invasion in reverse. I don’t think he really took the concept of gaining the French crown seriously; it may have been in the back of his mind, but the actuality didn’t take place until many years later (I’ll cover that in my next book!). If you look at a map, you’ll see that the Seine pretty much cuts Normandy in half; this puts Harfleur as a port right in the middle of the dukedom. Henry envisioned it as a second Calais—which sits about 165 miles northeast. Since Harfleur is located on the north bank of the very wide Seine estuary, it was a logical jumping-off point for his invasion of Upper Normandy.

As usual, the invasion force got a late start, and they didn’t arrive in France until August 14. Henry chose to disembark at Chef-en-Caux (near modern Sainte-Adresse). It was a long beach before a tall chalk cliff, about three miles from Harfleur. Remnants of some defensive trenching had been long since abandoned, and no one was on hand to resist the English. It was certainly not conducive to unloading, and all the equipment (and horses) had to be offloaded to smaller vessels. It took three days to transfer the army and its supplies to land before they started their journey to Harfleur.

King Henry expected a siege and brought cannons and trebuchets, etc.to expedite the operation. He expected it to last only a couple of weeks, but the residents put up a stout defence and the English were tied down for six weeks, which brought them into late September. Worse than that, the army was stricken with dysentery, which put thousands of men out of action. By the end, between the twelve hundred soldiers left to garrison Harfleur, nearly two thousand invalided home, desertions, and untold deaths, the army was reduced by a third. He had somewhere between six and nine thousand men left (depending on the source) with which to continue, and winter was around the corner.

Siege of Harfleur, 1415 by Thomas Grieve – source: Wikipedia

The king’s ambitious plan to continue his invasion had gone up in smoke, and even Henry’s declaration that he would travel overland to Calais before going home met with resistance. But to Henry, the capture of one little port town was not worth all the money and blood spent—all the grandiose promises and towering ambitions. No, he couldn’t go home now with his tail between his legs. It would seem like cowardice. At the very least, he wanted to see the land that he had decided to conquer. And so, overriding advice from more prudent men than himself, Henry took his undersized army along the coast to Calais, determined to follow the route of his great-grandfather Edward III.

Was he looking for a fight? Some would say that’s exactly what he hoped for.

But who would have predicted that the French would finally summon enough gumption to block his way at the famous ford at Blanche-Tacque? He was forced to march upstream several days along the Somme before finding a crossing, giving the enemy time to gather a huge army and confront him at Agincourt. His men had run out of food many days before, and they were exhausted, starving, and bedraggled. Most called his decision to march to Calais sheer folly, but the end result couldn’t have been more satisfying. Henry had his victory, and he proved that God was on his side.

John The Fearless, Duke Of Burgundy

Posted on July 19, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Much of the distress surrounding the French court in the early 15th century can be laid directly at the door of John the Fearless. What a slippery character! He was uncle of the schizophrenic King Charles VI and sought to control the ailing king but was frustrated by Louis Duke of Orléans, the king’s brother. However, Louis was not popular among the Parisians because of the taxes he raised (and was accused of squandering). So John made it his business to woo the people with promises: he would reform the administration and lower taxes. It worked. On the night of 23 November, 1407, Louis was murdered in cold blood in the streets of Paris. In a rare moment of weakness, John admitted his guilt then fled the city. But not for long; he figured out a way to clear his name. Labelling the murder as tyrannicide, John staged an elaborate apologia that persuaded the befuddled king to absolve him—though he never entirely escaped condemnation from his peers.

Needless to say, Louis’ son, the fourteen year-old Charles (and his mother) denounced the murderer, though ultimately they just didn’t have enough support for their cause and were forced to go home in humiliation. However, there were plenty of men who formed a faction around him—mostly southerners, like himself. They came to be known as the Armagnacs, named after Charles’s father in-law. The Count of Armagnac was a force of nature—brutal, efficient, and bull-headed. He was one of the few men who could stand up to Duke John.

Murder of the Duke of Orléans, BNF – Wikipedia

The two factions clashed continually; both parties wanted possession of Paris and, of course, the king, who blithely went along with whoever got a hold of him. Paris was simmering with discontent, and in January of 1413 grievances broke into rioting, directed by agents of Burgundy but led by the powerful butcher’s guild. Under their ringleader, Simon Caboche, the Cabochiens sported white hoods, laid siege to the Bastille—sound familiar?—then turned their attentions to the Hôtel Saint-Pol where the Louis the Dauphin was staying. John turned up to save the day, so to speak, and shrugged when the teenaged Dauphin bitterly blamed him for the uproar while his supporters were seized and dragged away. The Dauphin himself was detained and confined to the palace with his incapacitated father and helpless mother. It only took a day or so before Burgundy lost control of the mob, and he watched helplessly while Caboche produced a list of victims to be hauled to prison. Personal vendettas were carried out, and a reign of terror gripped Paris while suspected Armagnacs were arrested, impris- oned, and murdered. This went on for four months.

But insurrections are bad for business, and eventually the Parisians had had enough. When the time was ripe, the Armagnacs gathered their forces and converged on the city, inspiring the anti-Cabochiens to rise up against their oppressors. It all happened very quickly. Caboche and hundreds of his followers slipped out of Paris, taking refuge with the Duke of Burgundy who was one of the first to leave. The Armagnacs moved in, arrested anyone suspected of misconduct, and launched their own reign of terror. They kept a strangle-hold on Paris for the next five years, though Burgundy periodically laid siege to neighboring towns and the city itself in an attempt to push them out.

The Cabochien revolt, from Les Vigiles de Charles VII,BnF, Manuscrit Français 5054 – Wikipedia

Since the King of France was off limits, John turned his attention to the King of England. Although Henry V put on a good front and pretended to negotiate with Charles VI, he was undoubtedly planning an invasion, and John hoped to benefit. He could jointly invade any of the Armagnac’s territories, offer troops to supplement the English army as long as Henry offered troops to him when he needed them. As long as he wasn’t obliged to attack his own king directly, he was ready and willing to partner with England. By the time Henry launched his first invasion, Burgundy may have signed something resembling a non-interference agreement, though no one knew for sure.

The Armagnacs maintained their uneasy grip on Paris, and Burgundy’s threat was immediate enough that they dared not spare troops to confront the English. Once Henry landed at Harfleur, the king and Dauphin sent out orders commanding his nobles to assemble at Rouen, which was about fifty miles up the Seine. It was already too late! The Duke of Burgundy was requested to send five hundred men but not to come himself; the same request was made to Orléans. Both dukes were insulted, but John took the matter to its extreme and ordered that his lords in Picardy do nothing without his direct orders. No one dared disobey, and they all stayed home. On the day Harfleur surrendered, Burgundy was hunting in the forests of the Côte d’Or and making plans to travel to Dijon, where he would attend the christening of his nephew.

As we know, a huge army gathered to crush the English, after Harfleur shamefully capitulated following a six-week siege. The bulk of the French combatants were Armagnacs, since John’s restrictions were honoured by most of his captains. Even John’s nineteen-year-old son Philip, Count of Charolais, was removed to the castle of Aire, where his guardians— under pain of death—locked him in his room. Two of John’s brothers ignored his wishes and both were killed at Agincourt. One of them was Count of Nevers; it was his son who was christened that very day.

At least the Duke of Burgundy could console himself that Agincourt was an Armagnac defeat, for almost all the leading nobles killed and imprisoned were his enemies.

Did the French come to their senses after Agincourt? The short answer is no. The civil war was too ingrained for either side to budge. So while Henry V reinvaded in 1417 and took town after town throughout Normandy, the Armagnacs and Burgundians continued to fight over Paris. In 1418, an even greater, more vicious insurrection took place, this time against the Armagnacs. The Count himself was one of the victims, and his government was totally wiped out, along with leading citizens, merchants, and anyone who was suspected to be an ally. But the next Dauphin was whisked away to safety (Charles, this time. Louis died in 1415.), and all the Armagnacs gathered around him. Same faction, but they were now called Dauphinists. And once again, both Burgundy and the Dauphin negotiated with Henry V.

At the same time Paris was in crisis, King Henry was busy laying siege to Rouen, the capital of Normandy. This put John the Fearless in a predicament. Up until this point, his non-interference conduct played to his advantage. But now, he was the champion of France, and the king. He could no longer ally with Henry; their “understanding” was over.

Assassination of John the Fearless from Chronicle of Monstrelet – Wikipedia

Ultimately, he and the Dauphin decided to join forces, and after much negotiating they agreed to meet on a bridge at Montereau. A wooden enclosure was built around their meeting, but it didn’t help John! As soon as he knelt before the Dauphin, one of the participants stepped forward and drove an axe into his skull!

I can’t think of a worse idea. John’s son Philip (later Philip the Good) immediately went over to the English and swore to avenge his father’s death. He was almost single-handedly responsible for the English’s successful occupation of Normandy from then on. As a monk would later say when showing John’s skull to King Francis I: “Sire, this is the hole through which the English entered France.”

France in Chaos before Agincourt campaign

Posted on July 10, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Charles VI, miniature from des Dialogues de Pierre Salmon – Wikipedia

When Henry V landed on the shore of Normandy in 1415, he was relatively sure the French were in no position to offer him much resistance. Already in his father’s reign, both factions of a budding civil war had already approached the English for assistance against the other. Henry IV had responded with an invasion force in support of the Armagnacs against the Burgundians. The Armagnacs—the party of Charles, Duke of Orléans—had made a better offer. However, Prince Henry was in favour of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, and this antagonism against his father’s policy placed him on the wrong side of the political fence. Henry IV’s death a year later put an end to that!

So what was this all about? Since 1392, poor France was afflicted by a schizophrenic king, Charles VI, who slipped in and out of madness with unpredictable frequency. He was sane often enough to negate removing him from the throne permanently, though the older he got, the less he was able to rule rationally even when cognizant. His illness created a political firestorm, as his nobles fought to control his presence; whoever possessed the king ran the country. In the early years of the king’s “absences” (as his schizophrenic episodes were called), the government was ruled by his brother, Louis, Duke of Orléans along with the queen. Orléans was bitterly opposed by John the Fearless, the king’s cousin, who was the popular favorite. In 1407, John had Louis murdered one night in the streets of Paris, but he was such a manipulator that he got away with it. Of course, Louis’s son Charles did all he could to condemn the Duke of Burgundy, but he was too young and inexperienced to pull it off. He eventually formed an opposing faction led by his father in-law, the brutal and effective Count of Armagnac, who carried on after Charles was captured at the Battle of Agincourt.

In 1412, when Henry IV sent an invasion force to France under his second son the Duke of Clarence, King Charles managed to patch up a peace between his warring factions. Clarence was bought off and returned home, but the temporary truce soon failed and matters came to a head just after Henry IV died. Paris had become a proverbial powder keg, and simmering grievances broke into rioting, directed by agents of Burgundy but led by the powerful butcher’s guild. Under their ringleader, Simon Caboche, the Cabochiens sported white hoods, laid siege to the Bastille—sound familiar?—then turned their attentions to the Hôtel Saint-Pol where the Dauphin was staying. The insurgents seized and imprisoned many of the Dauphin’s supporters and detained the teenaged heir, confining him in the palace with his incapacitated father and helpless mother. Thus began a reign of terror where any suspected Armagnacs were arrested, imprisoned, and murdered. This went on for four months.

Duke John was not one to take matters sitting down, so to speak. There was always King Henry of England, ready to discuss terms. Just like his father back in 1412, Henry negotiated with both sides while he prepared to invade. He hoped that John would offer to swear fealty to him, but Burgundy was not willing to go against his own king. So the best Henry could manage was something resembling a non-interference agreement; no one knew for sure what they came up with. But by all indications, Burgundy cooperated. He concentrated his efforts against the Armagnacs, throwing the government into such a panic that they dared not commit troops to the English invasion while Paris was threatened.

Harfleur was the first to experience the might of the English army. Henry laid siege to the city, blockading it both by land and sea. Repeated calls for help generated nothing but excuses: the king was working on it. They hadn’t gathered enough troops yet to confront the English. King Charles and the Dauphin both made their way toward Harfleur, but didn’t travel any further than Vernon, about eighty miles upriver, while the army slowly gathered at Rouen, thirty miles closer. Before he left Paris, the Dauphin sent messages in the king’s name to both the Duke of Burgundy and the Duke of Orléans, requesting them to send five hundred men each—but not to come themselves. This gave John the excuse he needed to pretend that he had been insulted, and he ordered all his lords in Picardy to stay put until he ordered otherwise. Neither he nor his men—with few exceptions—showed up at Agincourt. Too bad for the French; Burgundy’s leadership skills were sorely needed. Orléans belatedly decided to go. But he was an inexperienced twenty-one year old, and when he took command of the army—as was his right—he fatally ignored the advice of both the Constable and Marshal of France. He survived the battle, only to spend the next twenty-five years an English prisoner.

Because Burgundy stayed away, a disproportionate number of Armagnacs met their deaths on the battlefield of Agincourt. Once again, John the Fearless attempted to take advantage of the situation by laying siege to Paris. But once again, he was foiled. His day would come, but not for another three years, and when a new insurrection broke out in 1418, it made the Cabochien revolt look like a dress rehearsal. I’ll explore the Paris massacres in my next book, HENRY, SCOURGE OF NORMANDY.

Review: Cursed Kings: The Hundred Years War IV by Jonatyhan Sumption

Posted on July 9, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

It seems that every era in the middle ages has its historian whose exhaustive study puts it in the first rank. We had Edward A. Freeman with the Norman Conquest and James Hamilton Wylie with Henry IV and V. And now we have Jonathan Sumption covering the Hundred Years War in five volumes. I can’t believe I didn’t stumble across him until now! His scholarship is absolutely mind-boggling. He has covered events in such detail that much of the guesswork has been removed. This volume starts at the beginning of Henry IV’s reign and ends at Henry V’s death. We get a substantial look at what was going on in France, which had a huge impact on why and how the English were so successful in France. For instance, when describing the Dauphin Charles (in 1418):

Charles was earnest, intelligent and shrewd and would eventually become an astute judge of men. But he lacked self-confidence even as an adult. He was moody, changeable, and occasionally depressive, naturally risk-averse, withdrawn and taciturn in company, uncomfortable in the presence of strangers. Some of these qualities…made him temperamentally averse to war and uninterested in the chivalric values to which his father had been devoted in his brief prime. They also meant that he was easily led by intimates with stronger personalities than his own, a weakness which provoked persistent faction fighting among the men around him.

In my research, this book has absolutely taken first place. The author has filled in a lot of blanks glossed over in other history books, though in a few places I still need to go back to the older historians. I’d say that’s the nature of the beast in historical studies. You only have to look at the sixty-pages of notes and the forty-page bibliography to see how extensively researched this book is. And, I’m happy to say, I found it very readable—the most important part of all.

Mary Anne Yarde REVIEW for The Agincourt King

Posted on April 25, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

The Agincourt King (The Plantagenet Legacy Book 5) by Mercedes Rochelle is a lavish depiction of one of the most famous battles in English history, which was won by one of England’s most beloved kings.

Immortalised by Shakespeare, and to some extent, Kenneth Branagh, Henry V is probably one of the more recognised kings of this era. Shakespeare is a hard act to follow, but I was really looking forward to seeing Rochelle’s take on the man famed for his St Crispin’s Day Speech. Rochelle has breathed new life into Henry. He is a capable and somewhat caring king, devoted to the well-being of his people, yet driven by ambition to achieve the same greatness as his great grandfather, Edward III. Edward triumphed in the French battle at Crecy, and Henry was determined to achieve a similar feat, ultimately surpassing Edward’s victory at The Battle of Agincourt.

The level of historical detail in this story is astonishing. Rochelle’s dedication to research is reflected in her authoritative penmanship. The historical background of this story is so impressive, that it practically screams authenticity. There was no question about the time period I was in while reading this book. Rochelle’s skilful writing revives this era in all its agony and splendour.

Beyond being a narrative of conflict, this story explores the complexities of family, emphasizing the bond between brothers. Humphrey, Henry’s youngest brother, admires the king with fierce pride. Humphrey adores his brother but this devotion does not blind Humphrey to Henry’s faults. At times, he finds Henry rather confusing. Although cold-blooded murder bothers Henry, he doesn’t have the same moral dilemma about causing the death of thousands in battle. Witnessing the death of his closest friends and comrades from the bloody flux during the Siege of Harfleur was not a cause for retreat. Humphrey sees that Henry values honour above all else, especially when it comes to defeating the French.

Henry is portrayed as an extraordinarily astute leader, effortlessly navigating the realm of power and politics, and orchestrating the French like a masterful musician. He whistled the melody and the song unfolded just as he desired. He wants to be perceived as a compassionate leader, refraining from aggressive actions against the innocent. However, he has no qualms about causing mass starvation and murdering prisoners of war to achieve his goals. By observing his actions and inactions, the reader, and indeed Humphrey, gain insight into Henry’s true character. He is a driven individual who is hungry for success and recognition. The Battle of Agincourt served as the platform for him to showcase that God was on his side. Once he had done that, he went home. At least for a while.

The way the book explored the relationships between the brothers, particularly Henry and Thomas, was expertly executed. From Humphrey’s musing, he sees greatness in both his elder brothers and comes to the conclusion that both men have the makings for a great king, it is just that fate made Henry the eldest. The portrayal of the brother’s relationships was skilfully done, allowing the reader to truly grasp the dynamics of this family. Henry’s relationship with his brothers was unique compared to previous kings – he cared for them and valued their thoughts, although he had the ultimate authority as king. And as Humphrey notices, although Thomas is the heir to the throne, and looks the part, Henry is the better man for the job. I really enjoyed as a reader getting to know the brothers and the different strengths they had. The way Humphrey told his story from his perspective added a personal touch that I found particularly enjoyable while reading. Humphrey was the ideal narrator for Henry’s story and I really liked him as a character. I thought he was wonderfully depicted.

Rochelle does give the reader both the English and French perspectives in this novel. With Charles VI’s unpredictable illness, there is a lack of strong leadership. The depiction of the Dauphin, Louis, Duke of Guienne, was masterfully rendered. In contrast to Henry, he fails to command the loyalty of his nobles, is burdened with rival noble Houses, lacks combat experience, and is surrounded by men he doesn’t trust. Henry cleverly outwits and outmanoeuvres him every time. Nevertheless, the Dauphin was a captivating character to read about and I thoroughly enjoyed witnessing the complete chaos that enveloped him and the French throne.

Rochelle subtly indicated the future by mentioning Henry VI’s disputed lineage – after all, he was an usurper which would have made Henry V the son of an usurper. Henry needed this decisive battle that would validate the Lancastrians’ claim of divine backing. Rochelle illustrates how crucial this war was for Henry’s reign. He needed that success. What happened after in the future generations is, as they say, another story!

I anticipated greatness from this novel because Rochelle can create authentic battle scenes and, at the same time, grasp the complexities of human emotions, and as I anticipated this book is great. It is an utterly brilliant book from start to finish and one I highly recommend.

Weapons and Armour in 15th Century: Guest Post by Garrett Pearson

Posted on March 11, 2024 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Morning of the Battle of Agincourt by John Gilbert – Wikipedia

The early fifteenth century would see a mix of weapons and armour and mail depending upon who was wearing it. Let’s start with the archers (the battle winners, no matter what anyone says!)

Archers

The archers would be a mix of hired on Yeomanry who would supply their own kit and archers who were on a Lord’s payroll and who would have some equipment supplied. The archers helmet was usually of two basic types (if they had one, the poorer ones may only have had waxed leather/cloth hoods) Anyway, the helmets – the “Kettle hat” as it is called is shaped just like a first world war British/American soldiers, it is almost identical with a bowl for the head and a rim all the way around. Check out the first world war soldiers for a look. The second helmet is still basic, shaped to the head and covers it and the neck to the collar, the front is plain leaving the eyes, cheeks and mouth open and fits down the side of the face, there is no nasal bar, there would be cut outs for the ears enabling the archer to hear well.

The Captains or leader of an archer band may have a mail shirt and possibly some shoulder plates and elbow plates but not much more than this. Some archers would just have a padded jacket (gambeson?) this would be stuffed/padded with wool or fabric shreds and stitched in long seams down the garment. This stitching bunches the wool/fabric and helps to deflect or at least slow down incoming arrows or crossbow bolts, it would also deflect bladed weapons to some degree. Archers would start off the campaign with boots or at least shoes, by Agincourt many would be barefoot and even fighting trouserless! (owing to the dysentry that was rife in the army) All would carry a dagger, a “poniard” or a “ballock dagger” and/or a knife, many had small hand axes used as both a tool and weapon. Don’t forget the large wooden mallets the archers would have for driving in their wooden stakes (their anti horse device) this could also double as a weapon to bludgeon a Knight to death. The Captains may carry a short sword (badge of rank).

Battle of Crecy from Froissart’s Chronicles (Wikipedia)

Men at Arms (Under a Lord)

These men are usually in a Lord’s retinue and liveried via a gambeson or shirt over their mail shirt to show their association. Not many of these would have plate armour, however some would have picked up pieces from previous battles and again the Captains would be better armed/protected than the ordinary soldier. So, usually dressed in a mail coat with a fabric or leather shirt etc over it to show their Lord’s colours. All would have a helmet but usually a basic one covering the head and neck but open faced, under this would be a mail coif that covered the back of the neck and top of the shoulders as well. Again, the veterans would likely have plate on the shoulder, elbows and knees too that they had taken from the dead in previous battles. Weapons would be axes, war hammers, halberds (pole arm with an axe one side and a spike on the other) or variations of this – axe/spike/hook etc. The hook is used to haul a Knight from his horse. Maces would be another common weapon. Short swords would be used and carried by most men at arms, all would carry a “poniard” or a “ballock dagger” both had long slim blades for slipping through helmet visors to kill quickly. All would have boots.

Knights/Lords/King

These lads are mainly in complete plate armour made to fit them personally like a modern day ‘made to measure suit’. Helmets would be visored, however I have read that many would lift their visor to enable better vision during battle (it must have been terrifying and claustrophobic in a battle when trying to look through slits? Your hearing would also be reduced) Hence archers being trained to hit a turnip at 200 yards! (see the similarities?) and thus Henry suffering an arrow wound in the face. Popular helmets were ‘Pig faced bascinets’ where the front of the helmet is shaped like a long snout with only two narrow slits for the eyes and small perforations in the snout to help breathe. They would have plate armour that was well articulated for all movement. Weapons would be maces, battle axes, shortened lances, war hammers and some would carry a shield if the weapon they were using was one handed (mace/hammer etc), if they had shortened lances they would need two hands and abandon the shield. They would have plate shoes and plate gauntlets. All would carry a sword as a badge of rank, again a dagger would be compulsory.

In this age when a Knight was so well protected the best and quickest way to kill him was; arrows to the face/bludgeoning to death/stabbing through the visor or under the armpit or groin which was hard to protect.

Archers would aim for horses as a larger target and had special shaped arrows designed to cut arteries or bury deep in unprotected areas. Once a knight was unhorsed he would likely be concussed at the least, and an easier target to beat/bludgeon/stab to death. From what I have read of Agincourt after each French charge the archers would slip out to recover arrows and dispatch wounded and concussed knights via axes/daggers/mallets etc.

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Garrett Pearson is an author of historical fiction: 4 Books about Hannibal and one on Stamford Bridge.

Visit Garrett on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Garrett13853937

Indentures and the King’s Army

Posted on November 12, 2023 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Put simply, an indenture was a contract written in two identical parts and divided irregularly—or indented—so that both halves could be joined together in the future. This post is mainly concerned with indentures made between King Henry V and his nobles for the invasion of France.

Funding an army was an intricate operation. An astonishing amount of paperwork has survived from the reign of Henry V, informing us of the exactitude practiced by the exchequer clerks. Several steps along the way guaranteed that every soldier was accounted for. But how were they paid?

For the most part, the king did not pay the soldiers directly. He would be responsible for his own household, as well as recruiting specialists such as gunners, 119 miners, 100 stonecutters, 120 carpenters and turners, 40 smiths, 60 waggoners, and the like (Anne Curry, 1415 Agincourt, p.71). For the rest, the nobles indented to bring a certain number of men-at-arms and archers with them. By now, the old feudal system had mutated into what many historians now call Bastard Feudalism, more of a fee-based agreement between the king and noble, or noble (I’ll call him the Captain) and his retainers (or retinue). For military service, the indenture might be drawn up for one year or less, depending on the plan of campaign. For the Agincourt campaign, the indentures were for twelve months.

So when the Captain applied his seal to the indenture, he was paid, up front, one half of the first quarter’s wages (the king having raised the money through taxes and loans). The second half of the first quarter would be paid at the muster, when the Exchequer’s officials actually counted the men to determine that everyone showed up. For the second quarter, because funds were short, the Captain was given jewels or some equivalent collateral to be redeemed at a future point (some were still outstanding in the reign of Henry VI). He was expected to pay the second quarter’s wages out of his pocket. The third quarter’s wages were supposed to be paid after six weeks of that quarter, and so on, though as the months progressed, things got a little messy.

But, as everyone knew, the real fortunes to be made would come from booty and, especially, ransoms. This, too, had a very specific breakdown. For anything worth more than ten marks, the Captain was entitled to a third share from every man in his retinue, regardless of rank. The king took a third part of the Captain’s gains, and a third of a third from each soldier and archer. Prisoners of certain rank, like dukes, would automatically get turned over to the king, and the soldier would expect some sort of compensation.

Men were recruited in a three-to-one ratio: three archers to each man-at-arms. The latter included earls, bannerets, and knights. The earls, knights, etc. that were recruited by the great dukes would in turn recruit the men-at-arms and archers. From what I can gather, many servants doubled as archers, but not all. Some household servants were directly paid by their masters, and were not in receipt of military wages. Those numbers are unknown. The greater the noble, the larger his contribution. The Duke of Clarence, Henry’s brother, indented for one earl, two barons, 14 knights, 222 esquires, and 720 mounted archers. The Duke of Gloucester, the next brother, brought 800 men total. After that, the numbers fell considerably; York and Arundel brought 400 each, Suffolk 160 and Oxford 140. Many of the knights indented directly with the Exchequer for somewhere between 40 and 120. So there were many small indentures, all of which had to be accounted for. The men were counted on their return, as well, including those invalided home after Harfleur.

Wages were calculated on a daily basis. A duke earned 13s 4d, an earl would get 6s 8d, a baron 4s, a knight 2s. an esquire 12d, and an archer 6d—this at a time when a skilled craftsman earned between 3d and 5d per day. So the incentive for archers was high. The king was responsible for shipping to and from France, including horses, harnesses, and supplies—another huge expense, when it is calculated that over 25,000 horses were needed for this campaign.

Each of the king’s copies of the indentures was kept in a drawstring pouch at the Exchequer with the Captain’s name on it. Any documentation that accrued during the campaign was added to the bag, such as muster rolls and wage claims. What a pile that must have been! Interestingly, since the Agincourt campaign ended before the third quarter began and many had been invalided home, the accounting was considerably complex. Some men were left behind to garrison Harfleur, and of course, there were those who had died during the siege or had been killed in the battle. Ultimately, the king decided to fix the start and end dates of the campaign, and even determined to pay the men who had been killed the full amount. This generosity was not forgotten, at least by the yeomen. The nobles, on the other hand, who had paid the second quarter in full, were shortchanged by the king’s decision to end the campaign forty-eight days early. It was left to them to petition Parliament for their loss. For some of the nobles, it was easier to compensate them with castles and land, and in some cases, admission to the Order of the Garter. Not everyone was happy, but who was going to complain to the hero of Agincourt?

REVIEW: The Real Falstaff by Stephen Cooper

Posted on July 3, 2023 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Anyone who has delved into Shakespearean studies probably learned that Falstaff was originally written as Sir John Oldcastle, Protestant martyr who was burned at the stake in Henry V’s reign. But Oldcastle had descendants who took exception to this unsavory depiction, and the great bard rewrote the part for the fat, cowardly, drunken braggart called Falstaff. Whether he intentionally named his character after the historical knight is up to interpretation, but the author has gone to great length to clear the name of Sir John Fastolf and demonstrate that he, too, has been misrepresented. Although there are similarities between the two:

“They were both captains in the king’s wars, much involved in recruiting and mustering soldiers, including drunken soldiers. They were both associated with a Boar’s Head tavern (though Falstaff’s was at Eastcheap, Fastolf’s in Southwark). They may both have been pages to Thomas Mowbray, Earl (and later Duke) of Norfolk. Each man used forceful and colourful language (Fastolf in writing, Falstaff in speech); and each attracted devoted servants. Most importantly in terms of reputation, Shakespeare portrays both men as cowards. We shall see that, in the case of Fastolf, this was most unjust; but Falstaff does not for a moment hide his cowardice.”

Sounds convincing, doesn’t it? But once the first chapter is finished, the comparisons cease and Shakespeare is not mentioned again. This book is a full-bodied biography of Fastolf, who was a major player in the conquest of Normandy, especially after Henry V’s death. He was an important commander under the Duke of Bedford, regent of France (and brother of Henry V). Not only did he spend much of his life in service during the war, he acquired great wealth which he spent judiciously back in England. After Bedford’s death, his career spiraled downwards, and he was to live the rest of his long life a disappointed man in England. But he continued to serve Henry VI’s interests, though the king’s advisors rarely listened to his advice. He lost many of his French acquisitions during the fiasco under Somerset’s incompetent command. An unfortunate episode during the battle of Patay, where he left the field with his men when all was lost, cast a shadow over his reputation and dogged him until the end. This is undoubtedly one of the main reasons his name has been linked to Falstaff, and the author hopes to give us a more balanced portrayal. Although this is not the most exciting period of history to read about, the book moves right along and gives us a lot of good information.

The Anglo-Saxon Table

Posted on March 28, 2023 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

We can fill volumes with what we don’t know about what people ate in the Anglo-Saxon period. Forget about recipe books; we have to wait until Richard II’s reign for the first cookbook. Of course the Romans were way ahead of the game, and Apicius wrote several volumes about soups and sauces and the art of cookery. The oldest surviving manuscripts date back to the eighth and ninth centuries, though I suspect they were probably hidden away in some dusty monastery.

We must remember that the Norman Conquest marked a substantial change in customs, habits, and even access to provisions. By access, I mean the forest laws, imposed by William the Conqueror to protect his hunting animals and vegetation that supported those animals. This had to have come as quite a shock to the natives, who were not used to being prohibited from catching their own game.

The Anglo-Saxon aristocrats hunted, of course, and even practiced falconry. King Edward the Confessor was said to have loved the hunt and indulged himself at every opportunity. So we know that wild birds found their way to the table (often roasted), as well as boar, deer, and fox. As far as domestic meat goes, the pig was the only farm animal that was used exclusively for food; they bore large litters and grew fast, and it is believed they were slaughtered as needed rather than certain times of year. Beef was mostly only eaten by the wealthy, and herds consisted mostly of cows for the milk. They were usually slaughtered in November and salted or smoked to last the winter; their hides were tanned for leather goods. Goats were kept for milk, chickens for eggs, and sheep for wool. These animals were usually slaughtered only when they were old or unproductive, or possibly for holiday meals. So the average Saxon was more likely to have a vegetarian diet, with rare exceptions.

Fruits were a big part of every diet; pears, apples, plums, cherries and berries were plentiful in season and were also used in cooking. Honey was used for sweetener, and all these items could be made into alcoholic beverages. As for vegetables, peas and beans were widely used, as well as mushrooms, onions, garlic, turnips, cabbage, parsnips, and even carrots (not orange—they were white or purple). These ingredients were often brewed in stews and pottages. In fact, I would say the pottage was the primary food for many Anglo-Saxons, along with bread made from grains such as barley, oats, and rye and mixed with ground beans and peas. Wheat bread was reserved for the upper classes. In the medieval period they called the grains corn, which was not to be confused with maize, an American “modern” crop.

Steward pouring drinks, Cotton MS Tiberius B V, f. 4v, British Library

Fish was an important staple on the Anglo-Saxon table, especially on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, feast days, Lent and most of Advent. Inland folk would have to purchase salted, pickled, or smoked fish which could last for months. Shell fish was very popular, like oysters, cockles, eel, crab, and lobster.

The Anglo-Saxon feast would have seemed quite boring to later medievalists. All the food was served at once on wooden platters. Guests were expected to bring their own knives, spoons, wooden bowls, and drinking vessels. The roasted meats would be placed on platters before the guests, and stews would be spooned into their bowls. Cheeses, breads, and fruits would be served in bowls or platters. The local bard would provide songs and story-telling—an important part of the feast. Meanwhile, mead and ale would be consumed in great quantities, and cider in the autumn. Most everything was dependent on the season, and autumn provided the greatest abundance of choices.