by Penny Lawne
In November 1369 Charles V formally announced the confiscation of Aquitaine. So far the prince had taken no real part in the fighting himself, although he had moved to take up residence in Cognac, but now he knew that he faced a major campaign to secure his principality, and that he was probably on his own. The planned English campaign in northern France had petered out, with John of Gaunt returning to England in December, although intermittent fighting had continued. Then the prince’s most trusted and brilliant captain, Sir John Chandos, was killed in a raid early in January 1370. Charles V had regained the services of du Guesclin, and early in 1370 the French army invaded Aquitaine in two separate offensives, with one apparently aimed at attacking the prince directly in Angoulême. In April Edward III agreed that once again John of Gaunt should go to his brother’s aid, but only with a small force. In his absence Gaunt’s three children, Henry, Philippa and Elizabeth, were looked after by Joan’s aunt, Lady Blanche Wake. When John arrived in Aquitaine, with Edmund of Langley, they must have been shocked at their brother’s condition. The prince could barely sit on a horse. Nevertheless he roused himself in August when he heard that the dukes of Berry and Bourbon had ridden through Limousin and occupied Limoges, persuading the bishop and the townsfolk to surrender to France. The bishop was godfather to the prince’s eldest son, the young Prince Edward, and his surrender was seen as a personal betrayal as well as a direct rebellion against the prince. The prince assembled his army and left for Limoges early in September with the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Guichard d’Angle, plus his brothers as his captains, but he was a shadow of his former self. According to Froissart the prince was too incapacitated to sit on his horse, and had to be carried in a litter the sixty miles from Angoulême to Limoges. The prince is described as giving commands from his litter, but his perilous state of health makes it possible that he was only in nominal command.
Limoges refused to surrender to the prince. However, the prince’s miners were able to breach one of the city walls and they entered the city on 19 September. This was to be the prince’s last military engagement, and his last military success. But his reputation suffered from the critical reports of the conduct of the campaign. Froissart claimed that the prince was so angry that he ordered all the civilians, including the women and children, to be massacred, and the city itself was pillaged, robbed and burnt to the ground. The captured Bishop of Limoges was placed in Gaunt’s custody, and after some negotiation was delivered to the Pope.128 Froissart’s account is not necessarily accurate. While it appears that the city was indeed comprehensively destroyed, it was an accepted practice at the time to do this in such situations to set an example and it is generally accepted that there is no evidence that civilians were killed. What happened was brutal, although not necessarily more so than in the previous chevauchée campaigns. But Froissart’s opinion, whether justified or not, indicates that Limoges tarnished the prince’s chivalric reputation. Although the success at Limoges to some extent restored the prince’s authority, it did not result in any of the cities and towns which had allied themselves to France relinquishing their allegiance, and the prince knew that he had only achieved a temporary respite. In just a matter of months he had lost control of the principality and the loyalty of most of the Gascon nobility. It would be an uphill task to restore both, and the prince was in no fit state to do so.
Joan’s whereabouts during the Limoges campaign are not clear. Only two contemporary writers mention her; Froissart suggests that she accompanied her husband part of the way and stayed at Cognac, where the prince joined her after the city was taken, while Chandos Herald indicates that Joan remained in Angoulême, and that the prince returned to her there.129 This is more likely, as during the prince’s absence their eldest son, Prince Edward, was taken ill at Angoulême. Joan’s anguish must have been acute when the boy died after a short illness. Her grief was compounded when she had to break the news to the prince on his return, and found that her husband was in a considerably worse state of health than when he had left. The death of his eldest son was a bitter blow for the prince, and confirmed his belief that he needed to return to England. The unity and loyalty of Aquitaine depended on the person of the prince, and with his health destroyed the prince was simply unable to cope with the problems facing him. To add to his woes, according to Froissart, the Pope, incensed by the sack of Limoges, threatened to have the prince’s younger son, Richard, declared illegitimate.130 The prince hoped that once in England he would recover his health and that he would then be able to return with the energy he needed to maintain his authority in Aquitaine. The prince was by this time so ill, and so desperate to leave, that he decided on an immediate departure, and arranged for John of Gaunt to deputise for him for six months.131 Joan, naturally, would accompany the prince back to England, as would most of their retinue, although it is possible that they decided it would be better for John Holand, now twenty-one, to start afresh and join Gaunt’s retinue, instead of staying with his stepfather. The prince’s helplessness was so acute that Joan probably had much to do with the planning and preparation for their departure from Aquitaine, liaising between her brother-in-law and the prince’s staff. Sadly, the prince was so ill that their departure was made in haste, before Prince Edward was buried. It cannot have been easy for Joan to agree to leave before her son’s funeral and it is indicative of the good relationship that she had established with John of Gaunt that she was happy to entrust him with the necessary arrangements. In January 1371 the prince and Joan, accompanied by Prince Richard and most of their retinue, sailed for England. Neither of them would ever return. Shortly after they left, John of Gaunt faithfully carried out his promise, and Prince Edward’s funeral was held at the cathedral of St Andrews in Bordeaux.132
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Return to England/
In Sickness and in Health
1371–1376
Alas what should I do, God, and love, if I were to lose the very flower of nobleness, the flower of loftiest grandeur, him who has no peer in the world in valour?
Chandos Herald
While there may have been some relief for Joan in leaving Aquitaine, she would have been grieving the death of her son, Edward, and there must surely have been a sense of anti-climax for her in their return. It was a sad day when her husband, ‘the flower of all the chivalry of the world’, returned an invalid, carried in a litter.1 In addition, the reports that she and the prince would have received from England would not have been reassuring. With Edward III in failing health, there was clearly a need for a strong lead to be taken, and the prince was not fit enough to do this. His illness was severe, and it was possible he would not recover. Would he live to succeed his father? In accompanying the prince back to England and leaving her son Edward to be buried by his uncle, Joan had shown that she considered her first duty and loyalty was to her husband, but she also had their only surviving son, Richard, to consider, and his future to secure. Still mourning, and faced with uncertainties, Joan’s role had become less clear-cut, and more challenging.
On their arrival back at Plymouth they were met by Sir Guy Brian, admiral of the fleet, on the king’s behalf, but the prince needed some time to recover from the voyage, resting at Plympton priory before travelling on. They reached London on 19 April, where they were greeted by the king, the mayor and citizens of London and a band of minstrels, and then escorted to the Savoy, John of Gaunt’s magnificent palace by the river in the Strand. The occasion was marked by a gift to the prince from the city of a new set of gold and silver plate to replace that melted down in Aquitaine.2 This was nevertheless a muted celebration in contrast to previous triumphal returns. It must have been a shock for Edward III to see his son’s condition at first hand, and a devastating blow when the weeks passed and there was no real sign of improvement in his health. Although they had not seen each other for more than seven years, father and son had always been close, and the affection between them would have made the prince’s illness that much harder for the king to bear. It was
also deeply worrying. Edward III was now fifty-nine, and finding it increasingly difficult to cope with his affairs. He was encountering political opposition at home, partly caused and certainly exacerbated by the renewed outbreak of war with France. Edward III had always expected that his eldest son would succeed him, and for years the prince had been his second in command. The king had assumed and anticipated that his son would be able to share the burden of government when he returned, and now it looked as if this might not happen. Edward III must have prayed fervently that his son would recover.
Equally, the evident deterioration in Edward III was a blow for the prince. The king had lost the fire which had characterised his earlier years; he was no longer the strong and commanding figure he had once been, and he had lost the ability to dictate affairs authoritatively. John of Gaunt had doubtless warned his brother what to expect, but facing the reality brought home to the prince how difficult matters had become, and he could see clearly for himself how much his father needed to depend on others. Since Philippa’s death, Edward III had become more reclusive and less interested in affairs. He was increasingly dependent on his mistress, Alice Perrers, formerly one of the queen’s bedchamber women, married to William of Windsor. Alice felt no need to be discreet and was keen to promote herself and those who supported her. Although the extent of her political influence is debatable, Alice undoubtedly used her position to advance herself and her friends. Increasingly, those who had connections to her – including her husband, and men like William Latimer, William Neville and Richard Lyons – became pre-eminent in politics. Initially, whatever distaste the prince might have felt for the way Alice Perrers flaunted herself, he evidently felt that it was a private matter for his father and not his concern. He was too loyal to remonstrate with his father in 1373 when Edward III gave his mistress Philippa’s jewels and allowed her to wear these publicly as she presided over a tournament at Smithfield, although he might justifiably have pointed out to his father that it would have been more fitting for his own wife, as Princess of Wales and first in pre-eminence at court, to take precedence at the tournament, and for her to wear his mother’s jewels.3
In the past Edward III had built up around him a strong and supportive group of like-minded nobles, men like Henry, Duke of Lancaster, who had shared the king’s aims in France and provided the solid basis of collective will which had contributed so much to English success in France. Between 1340 and 1369 the war had become an enterprise shared by the nobility and the royal family, led by the king and by the prince, reliant on the enthusiasm with which so many of the nobility had embraced the cause, a camaraderie celebrated with the Order of the Garter. Now it was becoming progressively harder to sustain this successful partnership. The inevitable march of time meant that many of the king’s closest friends, including Henry of Lancaster, had died, while others were now too old to effectively participate. There were few left of those who had played a major part in the previous campaigns, and the king was increasingly surrounded by a younger generation who did not necessarily share his outlook. Very few of the younger nobility showed enthusiasm for further expeditions to France, and even those who did, like the prince’s youngest brother, Thomas of Woodstock, displayed little sign of the tremendous military ability which was so noticeable in the prince, or in some of the earlier captains. Even some of those who had participated and were close to the king, such as William Montague, Earl of Salisbury, were becoming less convinced that the way forward in France was to launch a fresh initiative. It was hardly surprising that John of Gaunt, the most able and active of the prince’s surviving brothers, staunchly supportive of both his father and his eldest brother, had become the king’s closest aide and support.
Before he left for Aquitaine the prince had only ever been involved on the periphery in domestic politics. He would also have been aware that there were many in England, including Gaunt, who assumed and expected he would take a central role in politics now he had returned. Despite the prince’s poor health, he was still the heir to the throne and he was ‘the hope of Englishmen’.4 Yet initially the prince was determined to return to Aquitaine, even though he could now see for himself that his father was having difficulty handling affairs. His own poor health restricted his participation in politics, but, intent on his return, what energy he could muster was concentrated on pursuing the war in France, with the priority being raising the necessary funds and support to meet the expenses. In early May 1371 he roused himself to meet with a convocation of clergy from Canterbury, who had adjourned from St Paul’s to John of Gaunt’s Savoy Palace specifically to see him, in order to discuss their contribution to the expenses of the war.5 He no doubt anticipated that he would be fit enough to take over from his brother at the end of June. Unfortunately it was not to be. Recovery proved elusive, and the prince remained largely bedridden, incapable of travelling far. His efforts were not enough to overcome the lack of general political will, and by July there was insufficient money to pay the troops still in Aquitaine. Gaunt evidently considered the position to be hopeless, and resigned his command on 21 July.6 In August the prince was still so far from being well that he sent Joan in his place to attend the annual memorial service for his mother.7 The prince was forced to put his plans for returning to Aquitaine on hold, and appointed Thomas Felton seneschal to caretake in his absence.
This was a difficult time for Joan. They had lost their eldest son, and they were still grieving his loss. Illness, frustration and disappointment would have made the prince a demanding consort, and Joan’s priority was surely to ensure that her husband was settled comfortably and given the best care, in the hope that a respite from the problems in Aquitaine, and the possibility of fresh medical attention, would bring about a recovery. Yet domestic as well as national affairs continued to claim his attention, and although the prince could continue to rely on his council to oversee his and Joan’s estates, it was inevitable that he would become involved, especially when his authority was challenged. In July 1371, for example, the prince was swift to obtain the Crown’s permission to appoint commissioners to investigate several serious instances of assaults on his men, and theft of his property, including over 200 barrels of wine and many deer poached, from his estates in Cornwall and Dartmoor.8 However, although the prince’s retinue was substantial, his ill health meant that he could not hold court in the way he had been used to doing in Aquitaine. Having lost many of his closest friends, like Chandos and Audley, and old servants such as John Delves, the prince would have relied more heavily than before on his wife to assist him, and in particular in implementing his wishes in how their household should be conducted and making the necessary arrangements to travel between Berkhamsted, Kennington and Wallingford (the most conveniently situated and favoured of the prince’s residences in and around London).
Yet there remained the hope that the prince would recover, and his undimmed popularity was a promise for the future. Joan had returned to find that she herself now enjoyed a very favourable reputation, her prestige having been enhanced by her time in Aquitaine. There was also the four-year-old Prince Richard to consider, and with the recent death of Prince Edward very much on their minds, and the new importance attached to Richard as the prince’s heir, inevitably both parents would have been especially concerned for their young son’s well-being, and Joan in particular watchful of her youngest child. Joan was able to rely for support on close family and friends, almost certainly including her daughter Maud Courtenay and her friend Eleanor. Hugh Courtenay is noted as one of the prince’s entourage returning with them from Aquitaine, and he was called to parliament for the first time in January 1371.9 Joan was doubtless glad to have her daughter by her side. Eleanor had lost her husband Roger de la Warr in 1370 while they were still in Aquitaine, and she had remained with Joan, while Roger’s heir, John, was also a member of the prince’s retinue.10 Living in Joan’s household brought Eleanor into daily contact with many of the prince’s retinue and she did not remain a widow long. By 1372, proba
bly shortly after their return from Aquitaine, Eleanor married Sir Lewis Clifford, one of the prince’s knights. Clifford had entered the prince’s service in 1360 as a yeoman, becoming a squire by 1364, and he was knighted by 1368, having fought in Spain with the prince.11 He was valued by the prince, who rewarded him with a £40 annuity in 1364, and 100 marks in 1368 (a mark was worth 13s 4d).12 Clifford’s marriage to Eleanor brought him into closer contact with Joan and a personal friendship sprung up between them, strengthening the ties between Joan and Eleanor. It is also possible that Joan’s sister-in-law, Elizabeth, spent considerable time with them, after Elizabeth’s second husband, Eustace d’Aubrichecourt, died early in 1373. Joan would also have had the pleasure of being reunited with her eldest son Thomas on her return, also getting to know her daughter-in-law and meeting her grandchildren, visiting them at Woking manor.
By far the most important support for the prince and Joan came from John of Gaunt. As a child during the 1350s John of Gaunt had spent several years in his older brother’s household, and throughout his formative years the prince had been at the height of his career. There can be little doubt that Gaunt admired and esteemed his older brother, while the prince had always shown a special affection towards him. Though their lives had taken different paths the bond between them had strengthened over the years. Amid all the troubles affecting them, John’s steadfast loyalty to his father and brother was noticeable, and there is no indication that the prince later blamed Gaunt for the worsening situation in France or the growing unrest at home. The prince must have known how unlikely it was that his brother would be able to reverse the tide in Aquitaine after he himself had left. The continuing closeness between them, and the growing affection between Gaunt and Joan, is evidenced by the numerous gifts exchanged between them.13 Gaunt’s register notes the many gifts exchanged with the prince and those given by him to Joan, with presents to Joan’s friend Eleanor and her daughter Maud Courtenay, including a pair of paternosters, an elaborately decorated drinking cup and a gift to Joan of a brooch in the shape of her personal emblem of the white hart. The presents given to Joan are invariably addressed affectionately by Gaunt to his ‘very honoured and loved sister’. The prince’s influence on his younger brother is striking. Gaunt came to share the same circle of friends, with Gaunt making gifts to several of those closest to his brother and sister-in-law: Lewis Clifford, Simon Burley, John Clanvowe and Philip la Vache. The prince was also indirectly responsible for his brother’s second marriage. While in Aquitaine John of Gaunt had become acquainted with Pedro of Castile’s eldest daughter and heir, Constance, and when he determined on marrying her, he received the prince’s wholehearted support. In September 1371 Gaunt married Constance at Roquefort near Mont de Marson, and then returned to England to prepare for his bride’s arrival.14 When Constance arrived in England in February 1372 she was welcomed by the prince and Joan with the Mayor of London, with a procession through London to Savoy.15 The prince and Joan gave Constance a wedding present of a golden brooch or pendant depicting St George decorated with sapphires, diamonds and pearls.16 Similarly, when Edmund of Langley married Constance’s sister, Isabella, in July 1372 the wedding was held at the prince’s castle at Wallingford. Although both marriages fulfilled a diplomatic objective following Edward III’s earlier policy of rapprochement with Castile, and had been arranged by Gaunt on his own initiative, it is unlikely that he did so without consulting the prince, who clearly approved and supported his brother’s actions.