Category: Henry IV

HENRY IV AND HIS ELDEST SONS

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Portrait of Henry IV- National Portrait Gallery (Creative Commons license)

Henry Bolingbroke was a happy-go-lucky young nobleman before he ran into trouble with Richard II. I suspect the king envied his cousin, who had the freedom to travel around the world on his father’s generous allowance. How he found the time to father six children is almost a mystery.

Of course, noble children had a slew of nurses and servants to raise them, and didn’t have the opportunity to see their father very often. I suspect this was the case with Henry’s offspring, especially after his wife died in 1394, giving birth to their last daughter. The children were shipped off to relatives to raise them. Young Henry (I’ll call him Hal), the eldest, was only eight years old. The next in line, Thomas, was seven.

When Bolingbroke was exiled to France in 1399, his eldest son was kept by Richard II as a hostage for his father’s good behavior. Thomas was the only sibling allowed to accompany Henry into exile, which gave him the opportunity of a lifetime: to get to know his father better. Hal, on the other hand, bonded with Richard who may easily have seen him as the son he never had. He went to Ireland with the king, and was even knighted by him. The boy never had the chance to know his father as more than a stranger. This had serious repercussions.

King Richard knights young Henry, Harley ms 1319 f005r Wikipedia

When Bolingbroke captured Richard and usurped the throne, he obviously had to make his eldest son the heir. Was it against his inclination? I suspect so. It seems that Thomas was his favorite. Aside from potential jealousy, Hal must have struggled with the terrible position he was thrust into. He deplored the treatment of King Richard, and here he was next in line to the throne. His behavior toward his father would have been awkward, at best—especially after Richard was killed. Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to refuse the great honor fate had bestowed on him.

For the next several years, Hal gained the experience he needed in order to become a leader of men. As Prince of Wales, he led the English resistance to the Welsh rebellion, and also fought in the Battle of Shrewsbury, where he took an arrow to the face and nearly lost his life. His stint in Wales was an apprenticeship of at least eight years, and by the time it was over, his father was beset with the mysterious illness that sapped all his strength. Henry needed help to rule, and he reluctantly put Hal in charge of the royal council.

Too bad Hal did such a good job! For the next two years, with the help of his uncle Bishop Beaufort, Hal was on the way to bringing back the country’s finances into a semblance of order. I think the king was actually jealous of Hal’s success. Unfortunately, when Hal and Beaufort gently suggested that Henry retire in favor of the Prince of Wales, Henry took their suggestion very badly—so badly, he fired them both.

So much for gratitude! Poor Hal was Persona non grata for more than a year. Thomas took advantage of the situation and ingratiated himself with his father, making snide remarks about his brother and generally stirring things up. Hal was even accused of raising a rebellion to seize the throne for himself, and misappropriating funds for the Calais garrison. It had to stop, and Hal concocted an elaborate scheme to impel his way back into the king’s good graces. Obliging his father to give him an audience, Hal fell to his knees, gave his father a dagger, and told him to plunge it into his heart if he really believed in Hal’s guilt. Appalled, Henry threw the dagger aside and they reconciled.

Effigy of Thomas of Lancaster, Duke of Clarence

By now, Henry couldn’t deny that he was health was failing. He was wheelchair bound, and on more than one occasion he had suffered some kind of stroke that left him unresponsive for hours. He was at the end of his life, and he may have completely acknowledged Hal’s role as heir, much as Shakespeare told us in Henry IV Part 2. There was no Thomas to interfere; he had been sent to France to lead a (unsuccessful) campaign against the Burgundians, and so was absent when his father died.

Of course, Hal’s transition to king was smooth and unopposed. I imagine Thomas returned home with some trepidation, for their interactions were bitter after Hal had been ostracized. However, Thomas was heir presumptive to the throne now, and Henry V buried the hatchet, so to speak. His brother would henceforth support his campaigns into France, though he fell ill at the siege of Harfleur and did not accompany the army to Agincourt. Thomas and Henry apparently got along after the latter took the crown, but I suspect there was no love lost between them.

 

HENRY IV AND RICHARD II

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Murder of Richard II from a 19th cent. Engraving

Before I started researching the reign of Henry IV, I had absolutely no idea that the death of Richard II was ever in question. After all, Shakespeare had Richard II killed in prison by sword-wielding assassins—and he put up a fight before he went down. But of course, that was good theatre. I later learned that Richard II was starved to death, either voluntarily or by orders of the king. After all, there was a very public funeral and not much of a fuss was made over it.

So imagine my surprise to learn that things weren’t quite so black-and-white. The background story tells us that Henry IV strongly refused to kill the king he had just usurped, regardless of the fact that he was beset on all sides by well-wishers. They all urged him to put Richard II to death. After all, it was understood that disgruntled nobles and troublemakers could easily stir up rebellions in favor of an ex-king. Instead, Henry sent Richard away to be imprisoned in a secret location known only to a handful of people. Pontefract Castle was a Lancaster stronghold way in the north, out of sight, out of mind.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for the predicted rebellion to happen. Just three months after Henry’s coronation, the first revolt nearly cost him his life. Richard’s favorites—generously pardoned by Henry IV—planned to kill the king and his family during the tournament scheduled for the Epiphany (Jan. 6) at Windsor Castle. They would use Richard’s look-alike cleric as a figurehead until the real Richard could be released. Only a last-minute betrayal derailed their plans.

Alas for Richard, this revolt sealed his fate. Or did it? Rumors abounded. Finally, the first week of February, the great council attempted to resolve the question once and for all (or were they making an oblique suggestion?). They said, “that if he was still alive—as it is supposed that he is—he should be secretly guarded, but that if he were dead this should be demonstrated to the people”. Since Richard was already secretly guarded, it seems a little strange to me. All of a sudden, by February 17, it was announced that he was dead and on his way back to London. Just for the record, Richard’s death was recorded on February 14, though this seems to be a convenient date lacking any confirmation. Why? No one even knew how he died. If there were any witnesses, their lips were sealed.

Funeral of Richard II from BL Royal 18 E II, f.416v

In order to convince the people that Richard was truly dead, King Henry staged an elaborate procession. The body—encased in lead except for his face from the eyebrows to the throat—was set on a bier and drawn on a carriage from Pontefract to London, exposed for all the populace to see. The corpse was taken to the royal manor of Chiltern Langley and handed over the Black Friars, who privately buried him in the church. The only witnesses were the Bishop of Lichfield and the Abbots of Waltham and St. Albans.

So far so good. However, I was stunned to discover the alternative rumor that Richard had escaped from Pontefract and taken refuge in Scotland. I first learned about this when reading the preface of CHRONICQUE DE LA TRAISON ET MORT (Chronicle of the Betrayal and Death of Richard II, King of England); it’s also in the text (yes, it’s translated). The author gives us a very convincing argument about Richard’s survival, supported by the Appendix of Tytler’s HISTORY OF SCOTLAND (Vol. 3), entitled “Historical Remarks on the Death of Richard II”. Tytler started out by being skeptical on the subject but soon changed his mind: “In investigating this obscure part of our history, it was lately my fortune to discover some very interesting evidence, which induced me to believe that there was much more truth in these reports than I was as first disposed to admit. This led to an examination of the whole proofs relative to Richard’s disappearance and alleged death in England, and the result was, a strong conviction that the king actually did make his escape from Pontefract castle… I am well aware that this is a startling proposition, too broadly in the face of long-established opinion to be admitted upon any evidence inferior almost to demonstration.”

I must admit, I found Tytler’s evidence most convincing, even though he didn’t go beyond admitting this was a hypothesis. What pushed me over the edge was Henry’s remark to the Earl of Warwick just before they went after the rebels of the Epiphany rising: “But by St. George, I promise you, if I encounter him with them now, either he or I shall die.” It’s difficult to interpret this any other way than his knowledge of Richard’s escape. The more I wrote about it, the more convinced I was that Richard’s escape was truly feasible.

Taking a broad look at King Henry’s reign and the difficulties he experienced trying to legitimize his usurpation, in the end it almost doesn’t matter whether Richard survived or not (well, it mattered to Richard). Reports concerning his escape to Scotland and potential return harassed Henry throughout his reign. Those rumors took on a life of their own, resurfacing every time someone wanted to cause trouble. I think Paul Strohm said it best in his Reburying Richard: Ceremony and Symbolic Relegitimation: “In the years after 1402, the certainty that Richard was alive and well in Scotland seemed less tenacious than the desire that it be so.” It gave the disgruntled country a focus, a sense that Richard represented better days.

Letters from Scotland bearing the king’s seal didn’t help matters; the culprit, William Serle, was later to pay dearly for his efforts. The most serious threat came from Hotspur, when he used Richard as a means to gather an army from Cheshire. Even though at the last minute he admitted Richard wasn’t coming, the damage was done. After Shrewsbury, cries for Richard’s return substantially diminished, and they evolved into an oath to fight for Richard if he was alive, or for Mortimer if the king was dead. The last time this tired-out declaration was used was during the Southampton Plot in 1415 on the eve of Henry V’s expedition to France.

There is no doubt that someone was being taken care of in Scotland, first by King Robert III and afterward, his brother the Duke of Albany. This mysterious person, often called the Mammet (or puppet), was supported at great expense all the way up until his death in 1419, where he was buried at Blackfriars in Stirling. Whether this person was in his right mind or not remains part of the mystery. But it’s certainly possible that if he was Richard Plantagenet, he may have fallen into such a state of depression that politically, he was dead anyway. I would imagine he might have felt some satisfaction in knowing that his ghost would certainly haunt Henry until the end.

HISTORY BEHIND THE LANCASTRIAN USURPATION

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Henry IV claims the empty throne

Henry Bolingbroke was not raised to be a king. He was the only son of the powerful John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster and would have had his hands full taking care of the dukedom. But fate intervened, and Henry was placed in an impossible situation when King Richard confiscated his inheritance. His father had died while he was stuck in France, victim of an unwarranted (in his opinion) exile. No self-respecting duke would tolerate such an imposition.

So Henry of Lancaster returned to England and was gratified to discover that almost the whole country was behind him. The nobles saw how he had been treated and didn’t feel safe from King Richard’s arbitrary behavior. The commons were disgruntled with Richard’s notorious “blank charters”, holding everyone hostage for their good behavior. Everyone. Henry represented a new beginning.

And in fact, things started very well for him. Men flocked to his standard—so many that he had trouble controlling his army and had to send some home. He was cheered everywhere he went. And when it came time to claim the crown, his support was almost unanimous. Richard was deposed and Henry elected king, regardless of the fact that the Parliament was no real Parliament (only the reigning king could call Parliament, and Richard was incarcerated). Apparently, his future subjects only considered that a technicality.

The honeymoon lasted three whole months. Unfortunately, the new nobles created by King Richard were intent on saving him. Though recently pardoned by King Henry, the Counter-Appellants (who had helped Richard destroy his enemies), instigated a revolt on the Epiphany. But they acted too soon;  Englishmen were still enamored with their new king. Most of the instigators suffered the indignity of being killed by the citizenry who took the law into their own hands. Henry was saved. But little did he know, this was only the first of many rebellions against his rule.

During most of Henry’s reign, the country was bankrupt—or nearly so—and the first few years were the worst. It didn’t take long for the populace to cry foul, for as they remembered it, he promised not to raise taxes (untrue). Things were supposed to get better (they didn’t). Mob violence was everywhere. Even tax collectors were killed. Meanwhile, a fresh source of trouble reared its head: the Welsh. Repeated Welsh raids unsettled his border barons, who were quick to complain. During parliament—only one year after Henry’s coronation—the Commons insisted on enforcing the most repressive anti-Welsh legislation since Edward I. The Welsh were in no mood to acquiesce, and their rebellion gained steam for the next several years, sapping an already exhausted exchequer.

Battle of Shrewsbury

And then there were the Percies. The Earl of Northumberland and his son, Harry Hotspur were instrumental in putting Henry on the throne. They also ruled the north as though it was their own kingdom. This would not do, and Henry followed his predecessor’s strategy of raising up other great families as a counter to their ambitions. Disappointed that Henry did not appreciate them as much as they expected, Harry Hotspur launched a totally unexpected assault in 1403. The resulting Battle of Shrewsbury was a very close call. The fighting was ferocious; it was only Hotspur’s death on the battlefield that determined which side had won the day.

Needless to say, Hotspur’s father, Earl Henry was out for revenge. He was back two years later, leading another rebellion in conjunction with a rising led by Richard Scrope, the Archbishop of York. Northumberland’s thrust was repelled before he gained much speed, yet Scrope’s forces waited for him at York for three days before being tricked into disbanding by the Earl of Westmorland, Percy’s nemesis. Abandoned by Henry Percy, poor Archbishop Scrope became the focus of King Henry’s rage. Despite resistance from all sides, the king ordered him to be executed, creating a huge scandal and a new martyr.

Divine retribution was soon to follow. The very night after Scrope’s execution, Henry was struck with a terrible burning on his skin and he woke up shrieking “Traitors! Traitors! You have thrown fire over me!” His companions were horrified to discover that he was covered with lesions across his face and neck, and they all concluded that he was stricken with leprosy—a disease associated with God’s punishment. Although his skin healed in a few days, the symptoms came and went for the rest of his life. But there was more. A year later, Henry was struck with what he referred to as une grande accesse, and at the same time he complained of une maladie in his leg. Did he have a stroke? If not then, he certainly seems to have had another one a few years later, when witnesses thought he was dead for quite a few hours. The progressive weakness in his legs and associated attacks took away his strength and reduced him to an invalid, although he retained his clarity until the end.

Death of the king, BL Royal 20 C VII f. 215 (Creative commons license)

However he was increasingly unable to attend the stringent duties ruling his kingdom. By then, the Welsh rebellion was coming to an end and Prince Hal (later Henry V) was available to pick up the proverbial reins of government. Shouldn’t Henry have been grateful? Well, it seems that, aided by his uncle Henry Beaufort (the king’s half-brother), Hal did too good of a job on the ruling Council. His father increasingly resented their participation. So when the day came that Beaufort and Hal approached his father and gently suggested Henry retire, the king was furious. He immediately dismissed the both of them and returned to work. For about a year. Ultimately it was too much for him and he succumbed to his illness, but not before he took his son back into his good graces. Henry V was raised to the kingship without any resistance. But the rest of Europe still considered his dynasty usurpers. He had much to prove.

What Motivated Henry Bolingbroke to Take the Crown?

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Portrait of Henry IV- National Portrait Gallery (Creative Commons license)

Before everything went wrong, Henry Bolingbroke had the most enviable life imaginable. Eldest son of the most important Duke in England, given unlimited financial resources, father of four sons and two daughters, allowed to gallivant across Europe—what more could a man ask for? Unfortunately, it all came to a screeching halt when Henry and Thomas Mowbray had a very public falling out and gave King Richard the excuse to exile both of them.

Why the exile? Aside from the fact that Henry and Richard never got along, Henry was one of the Appellants who challenged the king during the terrible Merciless Parliament back in 1388. Richard never forgave him, though he pretended to, in order to appease his father John of Gaunt. But, presented with the famous Trial by Combat that never happened, Richard couldn’t resist the opportunity and exiled both contestants—Mowbray for life, and Henry for ten years (reduced to six).

Henry might have accepted his exile, but once John of Gaunt died, Richard confiscated Bolingbroke’s Lancastrian titles, lands, and goods, to be held in trust, “until Henry of Lancaster, duke of Hereford, or his heir, shall have sued the same out of the king’s hands according to the law of the land or have another grant from the king”. What does this mean? Historians can’t agree, but it implies Henry might return at some point. Or maybe Richard meant for Henry’s son to claim it. There is also no consensus that Bolingbroke was exiled for life.

Regardless, Henry decided to take matters into his own hands, with the ardent encouragement from the exiled Archbishop Arundel, who took on all the “grunt work” involved in returning to England. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that without Arundel’s persistence, Henry might not have had the gumption to make it all happen. It was certainly an intimidating concept, considering that Henry was threatened with execution if he returned.

But return he did, after Richard took a small army to Ireland, leaving England in the hands of his irresolute uncle, the Duke of York. Henry ultimately landed at Bridlington, in Yorkshire with a small following and three ships. Imagine his surprise when Harry Hotspur coincidentally appeared at his doorstep, just to investigate the new arrivals; he happened to be in the neighborhood.

This was a make-it-or-break-it moment. Hotspur was the son of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. He was also Warden of the East March of Scotland, and he was well within his rights to arrest Henry on the spot, putting an end to the fledgling invasion. But the Percies were disgruntled with King Richard. Besides, everyone knew what had happened to Bolingbroke. If the heir of Lancaster could be treated in such a manner, no one was safe.

And so it began. It didn’t take long for Henry to gather a strong following and march west. Did he only intend to recover his patrimony at this early stage? Historians have argued over this for centuries. Sure, he could have recovered his birthright, but what then? He certainly insisted that this was his only motivation, and many people believed it—especially Harry Hotspur. When Henry confronted the Duke of York, he continued to insist he had only returned to recover the Duchy of Lancaster, though by then his words were beginning to sound unconvincing.

Immediately after York gave in and joined the rebellion, they went to Bristol and Henry ordered the execution of LeScrope, Bushy, and Green. Was this the action of a duke, or did it belong to a king? Shortly thereafter—and well before Richard’s capture—Percy was getting quarrelsome and needed appeasing, so Henry appointed him Warden of the March toward Scotland. This satisfied the earl for the moment. Though once again, Henry overstepped his authority; only the king appointed the Wardens.

Richard II and Henry Bolingbroke at Flint Castle
Richard II and Henry at Flint, MS BL Harley 1319 f.50

By the time Richard had been captured, it was more than obvious that the king had no support whatsoever. The way Henry treated him pretty much betrayed their relative positions. The king was given no change of clothing, made to ride a broken-down horse, and was locked up tight in whatever place they stayed on the way to London. And everywhere they went, the populace cheered Henry as their liberator. Who could resist such acclaim?

You could almost say Henry was forced to usurp the crown. He knew that if he released Richard, there would be no forgiveness. The king would eventually have him tried for treason—or murdered, like the Duke of Gloucester. He had to take the crown, to save himself. Was there any time in this whole episode where he could safely reclaim his patrimony? Before he had gone too far? I suspect not. Was he fooling himself? Again, I suspect not. But he needed to convince others to follow him, and he used the argument best devised to relieve their consciences—especially the Percies. Unfortunately, his best intentions backfired and his former supporters eventually became his bitterest enemies.

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

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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.

Henry V and his brothers – Part 1

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Henry as Prince of Wales from Thomas Hoccleve, Regement of  Princes, Arundel 38, f. 37 – Wikipedia

Henry of Monmouth (so named because he was born at Monmouth Castle in Wales) was not his father’s favorite. That honor went to the next son Thomas, probably a year younger than him. It was said that young Henry was a bit aloof, and I suspect this had a lot to do with his father’s absence through much of his youth; Henry Bolingbroke spent many years galivanting around Europe and going on crusade. It’s kind of amazing he had any opportunity to beget so many children! Between 1386 and 1394 poor Mary de Bohun bore six children, dying while giving birth to her second daughter Philippa. The children were then raised by relatives.

When Bolingbroke was exiled in 1398, young Henry was surrendered as a hostage to King Richard II. Second son Thomas accompanied his father to Paris where—let’s face it—he had his sire all to himself. I suspect this accounted for Bolingbroke’s preference for him; could it be the first time he paid any real attention to his child?

Maybe I’m not being fair. Judging from the medications that were purchased for him, young Henry may have been a bit sickly. Thomas, on the other hand, was reportedly gregarious, good looking, and martially inclined. Very little was said in these early days about John, the next son born in 1389 and Humphrey, 1390. Their little sisters, Blanche (1392) and Philippa (1394) were married to foreign princes and don’t figure much in Henry’s story.

When young Henry was taken in by King Richard, his fortunes actually took a turn for the better. The childless king took a fancy to him, and it was even said that Richard saw future greatness in the boy. In many ways he treated Henry like the son he never had, took him to Ireland with him, and famously knighted him in the field. However, when word came to Ireland about Bolingbroke’s invasion, Henry was confined to Trim castle along with the heir of Buckingham for safekeeping. Apparently he didn’t resent the necessity, for the next time he saw Richard—after the king had been apprehended and imprisoned—Henry attempted to alleviate Richard’s discomfort. He was distressed by the usurpation, though not enough to refuse his elevation to Prince of Wales.

King Henry IV expected his sons to follow in his footsteps—at least as far as military and leadership training was concerned. Bolingbroke was a champion jouster as a young man, and took over governing the duchy of Lancaster when John of Gaunt campaigned in Spain and Aquitaine from 1386-89.  Bolingbroke would have been 19 years old at the time. So after his new reign began, he had high expectations for his heir. The Welsh rose in rebellion during the first year after Bolingbroke took the crown, and Henry was put under the tutelage of Sir Henry “Hotspur” Percy at Conwy Castle. Unfortunately, Hotspur abandoned the cause after a couple of years in favor of his own rebellion. Within the year, Henry was given the lieutenancy of Wales, a major command and a lot of responsibility for a sixteen year-old. He would play a role in the Battle of Shrewsbury (1403) against his former mentor, taking an arrow in the face that nearly ended his life. That put him out of commission for about a year.

BL Royal_ms_14_e_iv_f201v

Meanwhile, his younger brother Thomas was sent to Ireland as lieutenant in 1402, an office he was to perform on and off—mostly off—for the next ten years. His salary was constantly in arrears and he hated the job, preferring something closer to home. His father preferred having him around, too, and didn’t object when he turned his responsibilities over to a second in command and came back to London. Although he was given the somewhat empty position of steward of England, he had no titles until the year before his father died, when he was made Duke of Clarence. This gave him the necessary prestige to command an invasion of France planned in conjunction with the Armagnacs against the Duke of Burgundy. Although this whole episode was a fiasco, since the French made peace and bought him off, Thomas got his first experience at least by heading a chevauché, the closest thing so far to actual combat.

John was next in line after Thomas, and Henry IV had plans for him as well. The young prince was sent to Northumberland under the tutelage of the Earl of Westmorland, whose rivalry with the Percies had reached a climax. Although Earl Henry Percy (Hotspur’s father) had survived the fallout from the Battle of Shrewsbury, his prestige and authority had greatly diminished in the region. John was appointed Warden of the East Marches toward Scotland—Hotspur’s former command. Westmorland was created Warden of the West Marches. This galled Percy to no end, and three years after Hotspur’s death, Percy launched an aborted rebellion against Henry IV. John accompanied Westmorland as they pursued and dealt with the rebels. John was destined to stay in the North all the way through the end of his father’s life; the experience would hold him in good stead when he would take over as regent during his brother’s reign.

This left Humphrey, who was only nine years old when Henry IV took the throne. Either his father ran out of jobs for him, or perhaps the king wanted to keep a son nearby, for Humphrey was stuck in the unenviable position of having nothing to occupy his talents. He was dragged along as the king moved about the country. Both Humphrey and John were young enough to benefit from the presence of Henry’s queen Joan of Navarre, who he married in 1403. Joan was obliged to leave her sons behind when she came to England, so she was ready to take the motherless boys under her wing. Now that Humphrey was the only son left at home, so to speak, he spent quite a lot of time with her. He wasn’t to make any major contribution to history until his brother became king.

Henry, as Prince of Wales, took his responsibilities very seriously—in contradiction to Shakespeare, who portrayed him as a good-for-nothing layabout, hanging around with drunks and thieves and causing trouble. The Welsh rebellion lasted nine years and Henry was in the thick of the fighting. He had no leisure to play around, and I don’t think he even spent much time in London. In 1410, as a result of his father’s failing health, Henry headed the Council in charge of the government. Unfortunately, he disagreed with the king on some fundamental political issues and he was dismissed a year later (there’s some question that he and his uncle Cardinal Beaufort may have tried to persuade King Henry to retire. If so, this backfired terribly.) His dismissal could have freed him up to go drinking with his buddies, but it wasn’t to last very long. King Henry IV died in March of 1413, and Henry V mounted the throne a changed man—allegedly.

THE FALL OF THE PERCYS UNDER HENRY IV

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BnF MS Franc 81 fol. 283R Henry IV and Thomas Percy at Shrewsbury from Jean de Wavrin- Creative commons license

Henry IV’s relationship with the Percys went sour pretty soon after his coronation. He knew that he owed his crown to his northern earl; he also knew that an overly-powerful magnate was a recipe for trouble. So it wasn’t long before the king attempted to mitigate their dominance by promoting their rival, the Earl of Westmorland, who happened to be his brother in-law.

Matters came to a head after their decisive victory at Homildon Hill, where they decimated the Scottish aristocracy. Many were killed, even more were taken hostage—among them the powerful Earl Douglas. Stung by their prowess—in contrast to the humiliating failure he had just experienced in Wales—King Henry demanded they turn over their hostages. It was his right as king, but he couldn’t have made a worse miscalculation. Although Percy senior complied, his son Hotspur adamantly opposed him. King Henry had refused to pay a ransom for Hotspur’s brother in-law Edmund Mortimer—held hostage by the Welsh—and Hotspur saw this as double treachery. He and the king nearly came to blows, and if the chroniclers can be believed, Hotspur stormed out of the room, declaring “Not here, but in the field!” This was the last time they saw each other alive.

Although Henry tried to make amends by awarding lands in Scotland to the Percys—most of which happened to belong to Douglas. It was truly an empty gesture because they had to conquer those territories first. But, as they were acquisitive souls, the Percys decided to give it a try. Hotspur soon laid siege to Cocklaw Tower in Teviotdale, deep into Douglas territory, thinking this would be an easy target. It wasn’t. He was soon frustrated and negotiated a six-week truce, coming back to England with another idea in his mind. Why not take advantage of the truce and launch an offensive against the king?

I believe Hotspur caught his father by surprise. He must have been harboring resentment against the king that wouldn’t go away. Leaving his father to guard the border, Hotspur went to Chester and started raising an army against King Henry; the men of Chester were among King Richard’s most favored subjects and they were hostile to the usurper. They responded enthusiastically, especially as Hotspur promised that Richard would return from exile in Scotland and lead them into battle. Even when Hotspur later reneged on his promise, they agreed to fight anyway. With the help of Hotspur’s uncle Thomas, who left Prince Henry’s service with all of his troops, the rebels made for Shrewsbury, where the Prince was understaffed and vulnerable. They might have gotten young Henry into their hands, too, except for the unexpected arrival of the king, who forced them to battle.

Froissart Battle
Froissart Chronicles by Virgil Master, Source: Wikimedia

The Battle of Shrewsbury was the most serious threat to King Henry’s reign, and it was a very close call. This was the first time English archers faced each other across the battlefield. Only Hotspur’s death turned the tide; up until that point no one knew who was winning. Would the presence of Earl Henry Percy have made a difference? Almost certainly. Historians debate the reason why he was absent. Some thought his presence was never planned, although he did belatedly start south to support his son. Some thought it was Hotspur’s fight. Others blame Hotspur’s impetuousness and claim he “jumped the gun” so to speak, and screwed up the timing. Shakespeare said Percy was ill and couldn’t make it. Whatever the reason, Henry Percy was devastated by his son’s death; he was never the same man afterwards, and was pretty much driven by the need for revenge.

King Henry was set on punishing Percy, but because the earl wasn’t directly involved he was obliged to wait until the next Parliament. Unfortunately for the king, the lords were on Percy’s side and their response was merely to charge him with “trespass”—in other words, distributing his badge illegally. Percy was restored most of his lands, but the king refused to reinstate his wardenship or the constableship. The earl was in disgrace.

This unfortunate state of affairs lasted another two years. The king appointed his son John as Warden of the East March toward Scotland and Westmorland became Warden of the West March. Percy licked his wounds for a while before coming up with a new plan. In conjunction with Owain Glyndwr, the wily Prince of Wales, and Edmund Mortimer, uncle of the “true” heir to the throne (the child Earl of March), he concocted a new rebellion, this time originating in the North. Most of his supporters were in Yorkshire; as far as the Northumbrians were concerned, they weren’t quite as interested in rebelling against the king and didn’t respond enthusiastically to his overtures. No matter; Percy was on a mission.

Richard Scrope, Archbishop of York added his voice to this uprising. Once again, historians are divided as to whether Scrope went along with Percy, or did he devise a disturbance on his own that happened to correspond with Percy’s rebellion? The timing certainly favored the former explanation. Working the citizens of York into a righteous frenzy, Scrope led a large assembly to Shipton Moor, a few miles from the city. They were protesting high taxes and intolerable burdens on the clergy. The rebels were not a fighting force; they were local citizens. Nor did they possess cannons or instruments of war. The archbishop insisted that their intentions were peaceful. Some historians suggest that their purpose was to add legitimacy to Percy’s rebellion, which was to swing south and supplement its numbers with Scrope’s insurgents. But unfortunately for the archbishop, the expected rebel army never materialized and he was caught holding the proverbial bag.

The lynchpin of Percy’s rebellion was capturing Westmorland in advance, thus removing the only man capable of stopping him. But someone warned the Earl in time and he got away, foiling Percy’s plot. There was no “Plan B”. Had the Earl of Northumberland lost his nerve? He told his followers he was going to Scotland for help and bolted, leaving all of his co-conspirators to their own devices. Scrope wasn’t even warned about the change of plans. So when the Earl of Westmorland mopped up after the aborted rebellion, his ruse was to convince the archbishop he would present their reasonable manifesto to the king, and that the Yorkist citizens should just go home. Naively, Scrope agreed, only to find himself arrested along with his confederate, the doomed Thomas Mowbray, son of King Henry’s old enemy.

Who would have thought that the king would execute an archbishop? Scrope and Mowbray didn’t stand a chance. Once he arrived at York, the king rushed his judges through a trial and condemned the leaders, deaf to pleas from the Archbishop of Canterbury that he should refer the case to the Pope. Henry was not to be reasoned with, especially since Percy had slipped through his fingers once again. This time, there would be no Parliament to get in his way. He brought his cannons with him and besieged Percy’s castles all the way up to Berwick, ensuring that the traitorous earl would find no further refuge in England.

For the next three years, Henry Percy wandered through Wales and France, looking for support against the usurper king. But it was to no avail. The great earl had lost all credibility. When he was finally lured back into England with a new offer of support, he snatched at the opportunity, campaigning into Northumberland in the midst of the most bitter winter in living memory. Gathering a motley crew of country folk and local knights, Percy was confronted with a local detachment led by the very man who invited him south. He had nothing to lose and chose to risk everything on a last battle, meeting his pitiful end at Branham Moor, about ten miles from York, on 19 February, 1408. His head was delivered in a basket to King Henry and his body was quartered as befitted any traitor. Eventually his parts were collected and the great earl was reunited with his son, laid to rest near the great altar at York Minster.

But the Percy line was not extinct by any means. When Henry Percy took refuge the first time in Scotland, he brought with him Hotspur’s young son Henry, who spent the next ten years a virtual hostage. Henry V decided that a Percy in the North would suit his purposes, and the king arranged Henry’s return, creating him 2nd Earl of Northumberland in 1416. Part of the deal was young Henry’s marriage to Eleanor, the daughter of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland. And so they came full circle. But never would they achieve the fame of the first earl, their doomed ancestor.

 

The Percys and the Lancasters

Posted on | by Mercedes Rochelle | 2 Comments on The Percys and the Lancasters
John of Gaunt by Lucas Cornelisz de Kock
John of Gaunt with his coat of arms attributed to Lucas Cornelisz de Kock source: Wikipedia

Henry Percy, father and son, were larger than life. The Percys went all the way back to the Norman Conquest, but it wasn’t until 1377 that Henry Percy became the first Earl of Northumberland—at Richard II’s coronation, no less. It took eleven generations to get there, but Henry Percy had arrived. It seems that much of his early good fortune can be attributed to John of Gaunt. He served as Gaunt’s right-hand man during the hundred years’ war. While Gaunt was regent during the end of Edward III’s reign, he was badly in need of allies and made Percy Marshal of England—one of the four great offices of state. The marshal’s job was to keep the peace within the Verge—a shifting twelve-mile radius of the king’s presence. Matters got ugly when Gaunt tried to extend the marshal’s jurisdiction into the city (replacing the mayor), even if it was outside of the Verge. The Londoners were furious at the potential loss of their liberties.

Shortly thereafter matters reached a climax when John Wycliffe—an academic theologian challenging the Church’s doctrines and authority—was summoned to answer for his anti-clerical views. This happened on 19 February, 1377 at St. Paul’s during a Convocation led by William Courtenay, Bishop of London. Matters grew ugly very quickly and Gaunt and Percy found themselves at odd with a rioting mob. They had to escape the city to save their skins, taking refuge in Kennington with Prince Richard and his mother, Joan the Fair Maid of Kent. Not an auspicious beginning!

It was five months after this fiasco that Percy was made earl. At the same time, he was created Warden of the East March of Scotland and gave up his Marshal’s baton. A few months later he was created Warden of the West March as well. This pretty much set him up as ruler of the North, for he was far away from the center of government and the rest of the country trusted him to control the borders. After all, he knew the peculiarities of this strange environment, where blood-feuds were expected, border raids were common, and local gangs called all the shots. Percy’s main antagonist was the Scottish Earl of Douglas, Warden of the Marches on the other side of the border. Their own personal feud became disruptive enough that King Richard decided to commission John of Gaunt as King’s Lieutenant in the Marches, placing the Duke in a superior role to the Warden and fatally poising his relationship with Percy.

Matters came to a head in 1381 during the Peasants’ Revolt. Gaunt was in Scotland at the moment, and when he heard of the uprising he hurried south, pausing at Alnwick Castle—only to be refused entrance. In fact, Gaunt was forbidden to enter any of Percy’s castles; the earl used the specious excuse that King Richard had sent orders forbidding entry to anyone unless under the king’s license. The implication was that Gaunt might be leading a rebel army of his own. Humiliated, the Duke had to take refuge in Scotland until the revolt was over, and his ire precipitated such a feud between him and Percy that it almost came to civil war. Their argument was eventually patched up, but things were never the same between them.

And so, eighteen years later, when Henry Bolingbroke landed at Ravenspur with a handful of followers to reclaim his rights, it was by no means certain that he would be able to rely on Percy’s support. The returning exile continued north to Bridlington, due east of York. Once there, he was surprised by a visit from Henry Hotspur (the younger Percy), who could easily have arrested him and ended the whole rebellion on the spot. But he didn’t. The Percys were having their own little spat with King Richard, who was demonstrating uncomfortable tendencies to diminish their power. They did not accompany the king to Ireland, though historians are unsure whether they refused to go on principle, or were they merely protecting the borders?

Percy captures King Richard II
Percy captures King Richard BL Harley 1319 Histoire du Roy d’Angleterre Richard

It didn’t take long for the Percys to throw their weight behind Lancaster (John of Gaunt had died four months earlier). It seems relatively certain that they expected Bolingbroke to show his gratitude; after all, without their assistance, he probably would not have succeeded in his bid for the throne. Not only did Percy furnish the bulk of Henry’s army, he was personally responsible for persuading King Richard to give himself up to Bolingbroke’s tender mercies. As soon as the king was safely removed from Conwy Castle, Percy betrayed Richard’s trust, surrounding him and his handful of companions with a hidden company of men-at-arms. The end justified the means! Percy was working for Henry Bolingbroke now, who had already granted him (under his Ducal seal) the Wardenship of the West Marches. The appointment may have been somewhat irregular—this was the king’s grant—but it demonstrated Henry’s commitment. More commissions were guaranteed to follow.

And indeed they did. After the usurpation, King Henry was totally reliant upon the Percys to control the Scottish border and North Wales for him. Whether he wanted to or not, Henry was obliged to appoint them to key positions. In addition to his wardenship, Percy was made Constable of England. Hotspur was made Warden of the East March and given the lordship and castle of Bamburgh. He was also appointed Justice of North Wales and Justice of Chester and given constableship of the castles of Chester, Flint, Conwy and Caernarfon as well as the lordship of Anglesey.

Unfortunately, this was not to last. Like his predecessor, Henry IV saw the risk of entrusting too much power to the Percys. Besides, there was another, more tractable earl he could rely on: Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland. Neville had recently married Henry’s half-sister Joan Beaufort, which brought Westmorland into the royal family. His clan, too, had been in the North for generations, although they did not exert the influence that the Percys employed. Not yet, anyway.

Little by little, King Henry awarded Westmorland land and commissions. He was made Marshal—Percy’s former position—and granted the Honour of Richmond for life. The king even took the Keepership of Roxburgh away from Hotspur (who was supposed to hold it for life) and granted it to Westmorland. Then, to add insult to injury, the king promptly reimbursed Neville his expenses while owing the Percys upwards of £20,000 for their services (roughly 29 million dollars in today’s money)—and making excuses for nonpayment. Needless to say, the Percys took this slight personally.

    Battle of Homildon Hill

Nonetheless, they continued to protect the North. In September of 1402, the Scots came across the border in a furious chevauchée all the way to the Tyne. Unable to stop them, Hotspur raised a force to block their return to Scotland. Loaded with plunder, the invaders were intercepted at Homildon Hill, and a great battle was fought. It was a disaster for the Scots. A large number of captives were taken, including the Earl of Douglas, four other earls and at least thirty Scottish knights. It was a tremendous victory for the English, in contrast to the humiliating failure King Henry had just experienced in Wales.

The king’s reaction was less than gracious. Rather than award the Percys, Henry demanded that they turn over the hostages, with the understanding that they would be suitably compensated. It was his right as king, but he couldn’t have made a worse miscalculation. Although Percy senior complied, Hotspur adamantly opposed him. King Henry had refused to pay a ransom for Hotspur’s brother in-law Edmund Mortimer—held hostage by the Welsh—and Hotspur saw this as double treachery. He and the king nearly came to blows, and if the chroniclers can be believed, Hotspur stormed out of the room, declaring “Not here, but in the field!” This was the last time they saw each other alive.

The Illness of Henry IV

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Lepers refused admission: Vincent_de_Beauvais_Miroir_historial, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, folio 373r

When I started writing the volume about the second half of Henry IV’s life, my inclination was to entitle it The Leper King, only to discover there really was a leper king: Baldwin  IV of Jerusalem who died in 1185. And truly, it really wasn’t fair to Henry IV. Yes, he did have some kind of terrible skin disease, though his woes didn’t stop there. But if he really did have leprosy, how did he manage to lead a relatively “normal” existence—without being shunned by his contemporaries? No, apparently something else was going on. It’s nearly impossible to diagnose historical illnesses—especially from over 600 years ago. But historians have come up with some interesting theories.

One of the reasons leprosy achieved such purchase on the medieval mind was the timing of Henry’s first attack. According to many chroniclers, it happened the very night he executed Archbishop Scrope of York for his ill-fated rebellion. No English king had ever executed an archbishop before, and this was a terrible shock to his contemporaries. As the story goes, that very night, Henry woke up shrieking, “Traitors! Traitors! You have thrown fire over me!” His face was burning and he had broken out into a terrible rash—or pustules, or worse. Everyone thought it was God’s retribution for the murder of an archbishop. According to Peter Niven*, “Leprosy was the disease par excellence associated with God’s punishment of sinners”. Did this really happen the night of the execution? So many chroniclers mentioned it, that it would be incautious to dismiss the claim out of hand. Henry was bedridden for a week before he could continue his campaign against the rebel Henry Percy. But once he was back in the saddle, he allegedly carried on with renewed vigor. Temporarily, at least, he recovered—the first argument against leprosy.

There’s always the possibility that the medieval manifestation of leprosy differed from what we currently know as Hansen’s Disease. Nonetheless, the issue seems to have been decided when Henry’s tomb was opened in 1832. Although his remains quickly disintegrated upon exposure to the air, the investigators had enough time to determine that “his skin was intact, his features were not disfigured, and even the all-important nasal cartilage was undamaged” (Peter Niven, again).

It’s the other symptoms that confuse the issue. A little more than a year after his initial illness, Henry was struck with what he referred to as une grande accesse, and at the same time he complained of une maladie in his leg. Unable to ride, he was obliged to travel by barge and missed the first week of the 1406 parliament. Known as The Long Parliament, it lasted most of the year, and it’s thought that the many recesses had to do with his frequent inability to attend. Did he have a stroke? By all indications he retained clarity until his death. Could it be a blood clot in his leg? Historians just don’t know. Although his skin disease came and went for the rest of his life, it was the progressive weakness in his legs and associated attacks that took away his strength and reduced him to an invalid.

Some historians have suggested syphilis, which could account for many of the symptoms. However, the first recorded incidence of this disease hadn’t occurred in Europe before the end of the fifteenth century. Some have suggested psoriasis—possibly psoriatic psoriasis, which included joint inflammation and swelling. Three years after his first attack, Henry was struck down with a sudden seizure so violent that he lost consciousness for quite a few hours; for a while people thought he was dead. A few months later he made his will, which was usually done from the deathbed in this period—or prior to leaving for battle. Apparently he, too, thought he had reached the end. By then, he could barely walk or ride and was mostly carried in a litter or improvised wheelchair. Ultimately, Niven concluded that Henry could well have suffered from coronary heart disease or some sort of circulatory disorder. He suggested that rheumatic heart disease could easily explain his “growing incapacitation, his occasional dramatic collapses, and his relatively early death.” So, along with this conjecture, the skin disease was an unfortunate condition that had nothing to do with the major collapses that incapacitated him.

We certainly can’t ignore the effects of stress and—let’s face it—possible guilt over the usurpation and execution of an archbishop. Henry had more than his fair share of rebellions to deal with, and unless he was a man without a conscience, he must have had a lot of dead traitors weighing on his mind. I tried to count the numbers of executed men and lost track after about eighty. That’s enough to give most of us agita.

 

*McNiven, Peter, THE PROBLEM OF HENRY IV’S HEALTH, 1405-1413, The English Historical Review,  Vol. 100, no. 397 (Oct. 1985), pp. 747-772

 

Shakespeare’s Harry Hotspur

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Dispute between Hotspur, Glendower, Mortimer and Worcester by Henry Fuseli – Wikiart

Harry Hotspur (aka Sir Henry Percy) was a major character in Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part 1 who died at the hands of his nemesis, Prince Hal, at the battle of Shrewsbury. Unfortunately, we tend to forget that although Shakespeare was one of our greatest bards, he was not a historian and we can’t take his plays at face value. Yes, Hotspur was killed at Shrewsbury. But no, Hal was at the other end of the battlefield leading a flanking movement, still fighting with an arrow embedded in his face. I think that’s an even more dramatic story, but Shakespeare had other ideas (enter Falstaff).

But that’s not all. Hotspur was not Hal’s rival for Henry IV’s affection. In fact, Sir Henry Percy was the king’s age, not the son’s; he was actually born three years before Henry IV. He was knighted alongside Henry Bolingbroke by King Edward III in 1377. They traveled together to the great Tournament at Inglevert in 1390 (Hal would have been four years old at the time).

In reality, far from being the son Henry IV wished he had in contrast to his own wayward offspring,  Hotspur had been one of Hal’s early mentors. In the first few years after the usurpation, Hotspur had been made Constable of Chester, Flint, Conwy, and Caernarfon castles—all in addition to his other duties as Warden of the East Marches and Justice of North Wales. To say he had his hands full was an understatement! Hal was put under his tutelage at Chester, and I don’t think it would be totally out of line to suggest the prince might have experienced a bit of hero worship at this stage. He was only about sixteen, and Hotspur was the most famous knight of the age. He was indefatigable.

Even at Hal’s tender age, he was already being primed to take on his first responsibility in Wales. Unfortunately, it was unexpectedly thrust upon him at the end of 1402 when Hotspur grew annoyed at his lack of governmental support (and lack of payment) and resigned his command. Leaving young Hal in charge, he rode off, back to Northumberland. Just like that. How could the prince not feel abandoned?

The Welsh didn’t need much more incentive to rise up again, and they were soon attacking town after town, burning and pillaging. Prince Hal called up troops from nearby shires that owed the king service and went after them, holding his own. He was joined by his father a few months later and together they advanced into the heart of Wales. Unfortunately, their foray turned into a disaster and the English were forced to withdraw because of the terrible weather; the king was nearly killed when a storm blew his tent down on top of him. Henry was only saved because he wore his armor to bed. Their ignominious defeat was only made worse on discovering that the Percies had just won a tremendous battle at Homildon Hill, and came home loaded with hostages, among them the Scottish Earl of Douglas.

As depicted in Shakespeare, King Henry demanded that Hotspur turn over his prisoners and Harry angrily refused, precipitating the conflict that drove him to rebel. That much corresponds to history. In the play, there’s a scene where he conspired with Owain Glyndwr, Mortimer, and his uncle the earl of Worcester. This probably did not happen, though it’s possible some communication took place between them. The Welsh did not participate in the battle of Shrewsbury, though it’s possible they were creating a diversion by a very successful attack on Carmarthen in South Wales. Or the timing could have been a coincidence. Historians just don’t know, but since Glyndwr was occupied at Carmarthen, he couldn’t have been expected at Shrewsbury.

Death of Henry “Harry Hotspur” Percy, from a 1910 illustration by Richard Caton Woodville Jr. – Wikipedia

One can only imagine the shock and betrayal Hal must have felt to discover that his former friend and tutor had declared himself his enemy. I doubt he even knew trouble was brewing—it certainly caught his father by surprise. King Henry moved at his usual unpredictable speed and showed up with an army literally in the nick of time. Hotspur withdrew from besieging the town and prepared for battle.

Shrewsbury was a close-fought contest, and Hotspur was in the middle of the action. Shakespeare has him meeting Prince Hal seemingly alone, and they fight a duel where Hal slays his antagonist. And Falstaff takes credit for the killing after Hal walks away—apparently to get help. But of course, that’s all made up. The battle was total chaos and only the shouts of “Henry Percy dead!” turned the tide. His men panicked and fled, and later the trail of bodies stretched up to two miles away, with most of them fatally wounded in the back. No one knows precisely what happened to Hotspur, but after a search his body was found where the fighting was fiercest. Although the king supposedly shed a few tears over his corpse, he didn’t have any problem ordering that Hotspur’s naked body be propped up between two millstones so everyone knew he was truly dead.

While Hotspur fought valiantly, Prince Hal was leading a charge on the enemy flank; he wreaked havoc on the leaderless rearguard. It wasn’t until the fighting was over that Hal collapsed into the arms of his companions. In all probability he was unconscious for days—if not longer. Under almost any other circumstances his wound would have been fatal, for the arrowhead was embedded six inches into his skull next to his eye. It was only under the brilliant ministrations of John Bradmore, the most innovative surgeon in the kingdom, that Hal survived. It was probably a long time after the battle before he learned of Hotspur’s death.

You can learn more about the Battle of Shrewsbury and events leading up to it in my novel, THE USURPER KING.