The Tudor Brandons

by Sarah-Beth Watkins

  As he had proven by his marriage to Margaret Mortimer, marriage to a rich heiress could solve his monetary problems. On 7 September, Charles married his fourteen-year-old ward and one of Mary’s chief mourners, Katherine Willoughby. Chapuys reported ‘On Sunday next the Duke of Suffolk will be married to the daughter of a Spanish lady named Lady Willoughby. She was promised to the Duke’s son, but he is only ten years old, & although it is not worth writing to your Majesty, the novelty of the case made me mention it’.22 Katherine had become Charles’ ward five years previously on the death of her father Baron William Willoughby. Her mother was Maria de Salinas, a Spanish lady-in-waiting to Queen Katherine. Charles and Mary had agreed she would be a good match for their son, Henry, but now Charles saw her as a way into his new future without the king’s sister by his side.

  Portrait of an elderly Charles Brandon

  Chapter Nine

  1533–1545

  After Mary

  Although Mary had died young by our standards, the average life span in Tudor times was 35–40 years. Child mortality was high and there was much disease and sickness to overcome. Charles was now forty-eight, living way past the odds, and Henry was forty-two. Both had lost the athleticism of their youthful bodies, they had gained weight and their beards were greying. Charles and Henry’s friendship had endured across the years and would continue for several more.

  Henry’s second daughter, the Princess Elizabeth was born in September 1533 and Charles escorted the newborn babe at her christening but Henry had a much more unsavoury role for him come December. Katherine of Aragon had been banished to Buckden Palace, home of the Bishops of Lincoln, earlier in the year and it was now decided, at Anne Boleyn’s suggestion, that she should move again to Somersham Castle, a cold, dank ‘pestilential house … surrounded by deep water and marshes’.1 Charles left London with a heavy heart and a group of guards. Chapuys reported ‘The duke of Suffolk, as I am informed by his wife’s mother, confessed on the sacrament, and wished some mischief might happen to him to excuse himself from this journey’.2 Whatever he felt, he must do the king’s bidding. Henry not only wanted her moved but he wanted it enforced that all her servants refer to her as Princess Dowager. Calling her queen had to stop.

  Charles wrote to the king:

  On Wednesday last, after dinner, we declared your pleasure to the Princess Dowager in her great chamber before all the servants of the house. She protested with open voice that she was your Queen, and would rather be hewn in pieces than depart from this assertion. She refuses the name of Princess Dowager, and resists her removal to Somersham because of her health; and for all the persuasions that could be made by us or lord Mountjoy, or Dymock, her almoner, who urged her to remove, however she might order herself in her cause, she refuses to take any person into her service sworn to her as Princess Dowager. Her servants are loth to take the new oath, as they were sworn to her as Queen, and they think the second oath would be perjury; and they continued stiffly in this opinion … Wish to know the King’s pleasure, as she will not remove to Somersham, against all humanity and reason, unless we were to bind her with ropes. She also refuses the service of those men sworn to her as Princess Dowager, and by her wilfulness may feign herself sick, and keep her bed, or refuse to put on her clothes, or otherwise order herself by some imagination that we cannot now call to remembrance.3

  Charles found ‘Katharine the most obstinate woman that may be’.4 He had tried to reason with her but when she remained stubborn, he raged at her, forcing Katherine to flee to her rooms and lock the door. He then tried to persuade her to come out but she refused. Katherine would not be moved. There was nothing Charles could do unless he used brute force. Whatever Henry thought of her, she was still a noble lady and the Holy Roman Emperor’s aunt and as such was protected. And now the local villagers were up in arms. Dismissed servants had gathered support in the village and the palace was surrounded by men carrying billhooks, pitchforks and axes. Charles had to stay at Buckden for thirteen days until he received Henry’s orders, still trying to coax Katherine from her rooms. In the end, Henry told him to leave her there but remove all the furnishings that belonged to him and return to London. Charles duly adhered to the king’s wishes and, watched by the men of Buckden, left Katherine to her own devices. A few months later, she would be moved to her last residence, Kimbolton Castle.

  In March 1534, Charles’ only legitimate male heir, Henry Brandon died at the age of eleven but the following year in September, his new wife Katherine gave birth to her first child and third Brandon boy also to be called Henry. The king stood as godfather at his christening and generously paid for the midwife and his nurse. Charles’ youngest daughter with Mary Tudor was also married this year. It was a good match with Eleanor marrying Henry Clifford, the son and heir of the Earl of Cumberland.

  Money was still an issue for Charles. His wife’s Lincolnshire lands brought in around £900 a year but he felt the loss Mary’s dower payments. His properties, lands, offices and wardships supplied an income but it was never quite enough. Like most of England’s nobles, he lived beyond his means. After Mary’s death, her debt to the crown was cancelled but Charles still owed £6,722 3s 7d plus £2,666 13s 4d for the Willoughby and Dorset wardships.5 He gave over £4,361 worth of jewels but it wasn’t enough. In negotiation of the debt, he lost all his Berkshire and Oxfordshire estates and gave back to the crown Suffolk Place, Westhorpe, Sayes Court and Wyverstone although in return he received Percy lands in Lincolnshire, a cash payment and a pardon for his debts. Lincolnshire was soon to feature much more in Charles’ life.

  For some 1536 started with a great loss. For others the loss was a relief. Katherine of Aragon, living in Kimbolton Castle, in the fenlands of Cambridgeshire, had been ill for some months. The marshy, damp environment had done nothing but exacerbated the deterioration of her health. Lady Willoughby, the mother of Charles’ wife, had asked to attend on her former mistress but had been refused. Determined to see her in her final days, the lady disguised herself and asked for entry, telling the guards she had fallen off her horse and needed to recover. Once in she headed straight for Katherine’s rooms and there tended for the woman she had served for more than thirty years until she took her final breath.

  Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador, had also managed to visit the queen but feeling she was on the mend, had returned to London. Now with a heavy heart, he told the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V:

  The Queen died two hours after midday, and eight hours afterwards she was opened by command of those who had charge of it on the part of the King, and no one was allowed to be present, not even her confessor or physician, but only the candle-maker of the house and one servant and a “compagnon,” who opened her, and although it was not their business, and they were no surgeons, yet they have often done such a duty, at least the principal, who on coming out told the bishop of Llandaff, her confessor, but in great secrecy as a thing which would cost his life, that he had found the body and all the internal organs as sound as possible except the heart, which was quite black and hideous, and even after he had washed it three times it did not change color. He divided it through the middle and found the interior of the same color, which also would not change on being washed, and also some black round thing which clung closely to the outside of the heart. On my man asking the physician if she had died of poison he replied that the thing was too evident by what had been said to the Bishop her confessor, and if that had not been disclosed the thing was sufficiently clear from the report and circumstances of the illness.6

  Chapuys clearly suspected poisoning and given that the king was relieved rather than upset over her death, he had his suspicions that the Boleyn faction had something to do with it. Nothing was proved and it is more likely that she died of cancer. In a final insult, she was buried at Peterborough Abbey as a Dowager Princess, not as Queen of England. Chapuys refused to attend due to this slight on her status. However, Charles’ daughter, Lady Eleanor Brandon was chief mourner as well as La
dy Katherine Brandon, his wife.

  Just days after on 24 January, Henry was involved in an accident in the tiltyard that could have seen him following his once queen. Chapuys reported ‘On the eve of the Conversion of St. Paul, the King being mounted on a great horse to run at the lists, both fell so heavily that every one thought it a miracle he was not killed’.7 Chapuys didn’t think he had been hurt but a Dr Ortiz said Henry was unconscious or unable to speak for two hours afterwards. It is highly likely Henry sustained a head injury and many historians agree that this incident marked a change in Henry’s personality and behaviour for the worst. It would also be the last time he jousted.

  Henry’s behaviour with women certainly changed. His lack of a male heir made him increasingly irritable and impatient, especially with his current queen. By April of 1536, Anne was no longer his heart’s desire but a thorn in his side. He had already turned his attention to Jane Seymour when he ordered that Anne be investigated for adultery, incest and high treason. On 2 May she was arrested and escorted to the Tower of London by the Duke of Norfolk. She knew that the king wanted Seymour and she also knew that whatever trial she had, the outcome would fall against her. She wrote her last letter to Henry:

  Your Grace’s displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me as what to write or what to excuse I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you sent unto me, willing me to confess a truth and so to obtain your favour, by such an one whom you know to be my ancient professed enemy, I no sooner received this message by him than I rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your command. But do not imagine that your poor wife will ever confess a fault which she never even imagined. Never had prince a more dutiful wife than you have in Anne Boleyn, with which name and place I could willingly have contented myself if God and your Grace’s pleasure had so been pleased. Nor did I ever so far forget myself in my exaltation but that I always looked for such an alteration as now; my preferment being only grounded on your Grace’s fancy. You chose me from a low estate, and I beg you not to let an unworthy stain of disloyalty blot me and the infant Princess your daughter. Let me have a lawful trial, and let not my enemies be my judges. Let it be an open trial, I fear no open shames, and you will see my innocency cleared or my guilt openly proved; in which case you are at liberty both to punish me as an unfaithful wife, and to follow your affection, already settled on that party for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could somewhile since have pointed unto, your Grace being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. But if you have already determined that my death and an infamous slander will bring you the enjoyment of your desired happiness, then I pray God he will pardon your great sin, and my enemies, the instruments thereof. My innocence will be known at the Day of Judgment. My last request is that I alone may bear the burden of your displeasure, and not those poor gentlemen, who, I understand, are likewise imprisoned for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn has been pleasing in your ears, let me obtain this request, and so I will leave to trouble your Grace any further.

  From my doleful prison in the Tower.8

  Nine days later, Charles sat at her trial as he had also done for Thomas More who had been executed the previous year. His thoughts must have turned to Mary who would have been delighted at the usurper queen’s downfall. Anne pleaded not guilty to what we now can assume were all false charges. When Henry wanted rid of someone, he got rid of them whatever it took. Her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, read out the verdict.

  Because thou has offended our sovereign the King’s grace in committing treason against his person and here attainted of the same, the law of the realm is this, thou hast deserved death, and thy judgement is this: that thou shalt be burned here within the Tower of London, on the Green, else to have thy head smitten off, as the King’s pleasure shall be further known of the same.9

  Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower of London, led Anne Boleyn to the scaffold on the morning of 19 May. She was beheaded with a single stroke of a sword witnessed by Thomas Cromwell and Charles Brandon as well as a crowd of morbidly fascinated spectators. On the same day, Cranmer issued a dispensation for Henry to marry Jane Seymour. Henry was betrothed to his new wife the very next day and married ten days after at Whitehall.

  While Henry settled happily into his new marriage, his country was in turmoil. By October, dissent in the North culminated in an uprising in Lincolnshire. The religious changes that Henry had enacted to allow his marriage to Anne; his break with Rome and the establishment of the new Church of England plus the dissolution of the monasteries, all added to the rebel’s grievances. Up to 50,000 Catholic men from Louth and the surrounding Lincolnshire towns of Caistor, Grimbsy, Yarborough, Market Rasen and Horncastle marched on Lincoln and occupied Lincoln Cathedral. They demanded the right to worship as Catholics and that Lincolnshire churches would be protected from desecration. Sir Edward Maddison was chosen to deliver their demands to the king. Henry was so furious he had to be talked out of executing Maddison and instead wrote this reply:

  We have received your letters sent by Sir Edward Madeson, mentioning an unlawful assembly of our subjects, and desiring our pardon for you and them. We cannot but marvel that you, being our sworn servants, and warned of their assembly, should put yourselves in their hands, instead of assembling for the surety of your own persons and for their suppression. Secondly, we take it as great unkindness that our common and inferior subjects rise against us without any ground:—for, first, as to the taking away of the goods of parish churches, it was never intended; yet, if it had been, true subjects would not have treated with Us, their prince, in such violent sort, but would have humbly sued for their purpose. 2. As touching any enhancement or other charge, we never desired more than is granted to us by the Act of Parliament by the whole body of the realm; and the most part of the first payment, and some part also of the second, in most of the shires, is lovingly granted, and partly paid already. Nevertheless, we marvel at the unkindness of our subjects, that would move any insurrection against us for such a cause, considering that the tenth man of those assembled “is not within the limit or burden of the same,” and he that is worth 20l. is a bad subject to rebel against Us for 10s. The rumours of other impositions were untrue; and this assembly is so heinous that unless you can persuade them, for the safety as well of your lives as theirs to disperse, and send 100 of the ringleaders, with halters about their necks, to our lieutenant, to do with them as shall be thought best, and thus prevent the fury of the great puissance, which we have already sent against them, we see no way to save them. For we have already sent out the duke of Suffolk, our lieutenant, the earls of Shrewsbury, Rutland, and Huntingdon, lord Darcy, with Yorkshire, the lord Admiral, and divers other nobles, with 100,000 men, horse and foot, in harness, with munitions and artillery, which they cannot resist. We have also appointed another great army to invade their countries as soon as they come out of them and to burn, spoil, and destroy their goods, wives, and children with all extremity, to the fearful example of all lewd subjects.10

  Henry had sent Charles out as his lieutenant to suppress the uprising although having an army of 100,000 men is an exaggeration. Charles was in fact having difficulty gathering his troops and on arrival at Huntingdon ‘found there neither ordnance nor artillery nor men enough to do anything; such men as are gathered there have neither harness nor weapons. Begs that ordnance, and artillery, and a thousand or two of harness may be sent with speed’.11 Hoping that he would be supplied soon, he nevertheless sent a message to the rebels to warn them of ‘the greate slaughter that ys like by stroke of sworde whiche ys p(re)payrede shortly to ensue among(es) you’.12 There was still eighty miles to travel to Lincoln. Charles continued on to Stamford by which time he had around 3,000 men at his command. He reached a quieter Lincoln on 18 October. Fearing the wrath of the king’s army, the rebels had already dispersed. Several of the insurgents were
captured including the vicar of Louth and Captain Cobbler, two of the main ringleaders who now awaited execution.

  The Lincolnshire rising had been quashed but now there was trouble in Yorkshire. Robert Aske, a London barrister, originally from Richmond, North Yorkshire, led his growing band of men to York. The rebellion was known as the Pilgrimage of Grace and was the largest and most severe Henry had ever faced during his reign. Aske, with his followers, wanted the dissolution of the monasteries to stop and England to return to Rome. Theirs were religious grievances but there were also political and economic factors; poor harvests, unwelcome taxes, the loss of Katherine as queen, and the rise of the much disliked Thomas Cromwell, the king’s secretary and chancellor. It was not the king they blamed as such but men like Cromwell whose evil policies had changed the country. The rebels sought change and were well organised. Their banner was of Christ’s five wounds and they all took an oath to their cause.

  Ye shall not enter into this our Pilgrimage of Grace

  for the commonwealth, but only for the love that ye do bear unto Almighty God his faith, and to Holy Church militant and the maintenance thereof;

  to the preservation of the King’s person and his issue, to the purifying of the nobility,

  and to expulse all villein blood and evil councillors against the commonwealth

  from his Grace and his Privy Council of the same.

  And that ye shall not enter into our said Pilgrimage for no particular profit to yourself,

  nor to do any displeasure to any private person,

  but by counsel of the commonwealth,

  nor slay nor murder for no envy,

  but in your hearts put away all fear and dread,