First of the Tudors

by Joanna Hickson

  Henry frowned at me. ‘Your nephew, Jasper? Did I know you had a nephew? Who’s son is he?’

  ‘My brother Edmund’s son. He married Lady Margaret Beaufort, do you remember?’

  His expression darkened further. ‘No, I do not remember. Why have I not met him? You know I like to meet all members of my family.’

  I opened my mouth to tell him that he had met Harri and not long ago but suddenly had second thoughts. I decided it would not be wise to suggest that when they had come to court at Westminster he had mistaken Harri for his own son and Lady Margaret for his wife. He might not believe me, and it might even make him angry. He was still head of the House of Lancaster but more than ever I realized that he was an unreliable and unpredictable head. He might be capable of signing an edict but he was not capable of generating its content, just as he was not capable of remembering quite recent events.

  ‘I will go now and fetch him, sire,’ I said. ‘He is not far away.’

  Henry’s squire was waiting outside the door and after he had told me where Harri had gone with Sir Richard Tunstall I sent him back in to attend the king. However, by the time I returned with Harri the opportunity for introducing him to his uncle had passed. King Henry was once more kneeling before a crucifix, praying to the only consistent being in his world.

  ‘We will come again in the New Year, Harri,’ I said to the puzzled boy. ‘Perhaps the king will meet you then. But I have something else I want you to do while we are here. We are going to look for your grandmother.’

  ‘Lady Welles?’ he asked, becoming even more perplexed. ‘Is she here at Windsor?’

  ‘No, not your mother’s mother but Queen Catherine de Valois, the French Princess who was King Henry’s mother and also mother to your father and me. Her father was King of France and she was queen to King Henry the Fifth, the conquering Lancastrian. I have just discovered that her portrait is hanging somewhere here in St George’s Hall and I would like to find it before we leave.’

  Harri’s eyes were round with surprise. ‘Mistress Jane told me about Queen Catherine. She said her mother had been one of her ladies in waiting.’

  ‘Yes, Harri, and she was apparently very beautiful so she should not be hard to find.’

  The most obvious place to start was the gallery that ran the length of the royal apartments. A succession of portraits hung between the doors that led off this long passage and windows ran along the opposite wall throwing light on many a royal visage but none of them was my mother’s, at least not as far as I could tell. Perusing the female portraits one by one I kept telling myself that when I saw her I would recognize her but as one face followed another, painted with artistry of wildly varying skill, I became despondent. I had always regretted having no clear memory of Queen Catherine but I had thought I would instinctively know her, that some forgotten but ingrained image would suddenly make a positive match with a picture before my eyes and there would be no doubt in my mind that it was my mother. When this did not happen Harri urged me to think more carefully about what King Henry had said about seeing his mother on the wall.

  ‘Did he say anything to give you a clue about where it might be? What was he doing when he saw it?’

  I told him. ‘We were talking about Queen Marguerite and Prince Édouard possibly coming for Christmas. He said he was worried about the weather. He had climbed a tower hoping to be able to see what the weather was like in the Channel. I thought that was nonsensical, you cannot see that far, even from the highest turret.’

  ‘Let us search the towers, then. All towers have stairs and a stair has to start and end in a room or passage. There might be pictures hanging there.’

  ‘Yes, that is a good idea, Harri. When King Henry’s father died his brother Humphrey of Gloucester became Protector and he apparently did not like my mother. He may have hidden her portrait somewhere obscure so that it was not in the public eye. We will ask the Chamberlain.’

  It took us some time to find Sir Richard Tunstall who detailed a servant to show us to the hall’s four towers. It was like following a labyrinth in three dimensions climbing one tower after another, winding through all their rooms and passages. Then in the last of the four – inevitably! – there was a portrait that set my spine tingling. It hung in such a dark corner at the base of the circular stair that it was almost impossible to discern the features but even in the deep shadows something about the face made me lift it down from its hook with shaking hands.

  ‘Harri, Harri, I think this is it!’

  The servant carried the picture through the tower entrance and out into the daylight, where we propped it against the wall.

  I do not know how I knew it was my mother but the certainty only grew. Mette had told me that a famous Flemish artist had been brought to Paris to paint it when my mother was sixteen years old, a few years after the fifth King Henry’s magnificent victory over the French on the field of Agincourt. Her father, King Charles the Sixth of France, had been suffering one of his terrible episodes of madness and his queen, Isabeau of Bavaria, had assumed the regency with the Duke of Burgundy. Protracted peace negotiations were stalling and the Princess Catherine was being offered as a bride to try and seal the treaty. The portrait was painted to show the English king her outstanding beauty.

  She was looking straight out of the painting, as if challenging the viewer to deny the perfection of her countenance. A lump formed in my throat as her two enormous sapphire eyes seemed to instantly claim me, so that I had to make a conscious effort to tear my gaze from them in order to study her other features. Finely arched brows were set above remarkable high cheekbones, the nose was nobly straight and the mouth curved and red as the rubies in her gold coronet, her neck pale, smooth and long like a marble column, set off by a gem-studded collar. She wore a purple velvet mantle trimmed with the tails of winter ermine, over a lavishly embroidered golden gown and yet this glorious royal apparel could not outshine the radiance of its wearer. Never can a princess have been a more tempting prize to a conquering king.

  ‘She looks like you.’ Harri’s comment took me by surprise. We had both been silent for several minutes.

  ‘Do you really think so?’ I was absurdly pleased by his observation. ‘But without the beard,’ I joked.

  Harri laughed, or more accurately, giggled. ‘Obviously, Uncle Jasper.’

  ‘It was her idea to call me Jasper,’ I remarked. More information relayed by Mette was surfacing, inspired by the picture to which my eyes could not help returning. ‘She had a red jasper ring and I was born with bright red hair. Much brighter than it is now.’

  ‘Does jasper have a meaning? Most gems do I am told.’

  I turned to look at him again. ‘This one was a bloodstone. They say it is the gem of noble sacrifice and brings the bearer passion and courage.’

  ‘Then it suits you,’ my nephew said. ‘What could be more noble than to have brought your king back to his rightful throne?’

  ‘But I think I have more to prove, Harri, before she is shown to be right. I do not feel my life is over. There is much to do yet.’

  He looked a little sheepish. ‘I did not mean to make you feel old, Uncle, and I hope I will see you do it.’

  I laughed and squeezed his shoulder. ‘And I hope I will see you do even more, young man. But come, I want to bring Mistress Jane to see this picture before the light fades.’

  * * *

  Seeing it, and justifiably overawed, Jane said, ‘No wonder my mother adored her.’

  ‘No wonder my father adored her,’ I echoed. ‘How can I possibly have forgotten that exquisite face? It should surely have engraved itself on my infant mind.’ I crossed myself as if saluting a saint. ‘May God forgive me.’

  I heard rather than saw Jane swirl round to confront me. ‘You have nothing to beg forgiveness for, Jasper,’ she said indignantly. ‘You were a child when she left you. You must have felt abandoned. No wonder you thrust her image from your thoughts. But now you must realize that you see her every time
you look in a mirror. If Edmund was your father’s son, you are your mother’s.’

  ‘But she defied all opposition to marry her love and bring happiness to them both. I have not done that, have I, Jane?’

  At first she was silent, her gaze lowered, then out of the blue she said, ‘I hear the old queen has had a son in sanctuary.’

  My eyes widened in surprise. ‘Where did you hear that? I thought it had not been made public.’

  She gave a dry little laugh. ‘I heard it in Windsor High Street. So do not tell me you have failed, Jasper, not when we, too, have a new life of our own just beginning.’

  I stared at her intently. ‘Are you telling me you are with child, Jane?’

  She met my gaze proudly and nodded. ‘Perhaps this time we will also have a boy, to celebrate a fresh start – and a happy life to come, like your mother wanted.’

  We shared a kiss then under the intense gaze of the forgotten queen and I felt as if the past with its failures and regrets was a foreign country and the future full of promise …

  GLOSSARY

  Abermaw: the original Welsh name for a seaside town that the Victorians renamed Barmouth, at the mouth of the River Mawddach.

  almoner: official in charge of dispensing alms and supervising charitable works.

  arrivistes: ‘new arrivals’ – recently ennobled commoners.

  ashlar: squared-off stones worked smooth by masons, used as facing on buildings.

  attire: a knight’s suit of armour, later used generally for an outfit of clothing.

  baldric: shoulder strap to carry a bag or sword sheath. Also a strip of embroidered fabric worn across the body as a male fashion item, sometimes hung with little bells.

  banneret: a senior grade of knighthood, having power to command a troop in battle.

  barbe: a linen collar covering a woman’s chin and neck (Fr. barbe = beard) worn with a *wimple as a sign of widowhood.

  bard: a poet

  barded: heraldic term for decorative horse-trappings (bardings).

  bass: a slow processive dance.

  Beaufort: a castle town in 14thC Aquitaine, which John of Gaunt gave as a surname to the four children he fathered with Katherine Swynford. They were later legitimized.

  Bletsoe Castle: held by Margaret Beauchamp, Margaret Beaufort’s mother, located north of Bedford.

  bodger: a turner of wood, making bowls and chairs and posts of all kinds and sizes.

  bottins: short protective boots – practical rather than fashionable.

  bracer: armour for the lower arm – came in pairs, cf. a brace of game.

  braies: male underwear, worn under hose.

  Caldicot: Jasper’s castle on the west bank of the Severn estuary.

  cariad: a Welsh term of affection – sweetheart, darling, love.

  chapman: a travelling salesman or pedlar.

  chausses: chain-mail trousers.

  chemise: a long linen shirt (French) – worn under *kirtle (women) or *doublet (men)

  chevauchée: ‘slash and burn’ – a string of raids on villages and crops, a strategy of war intended to destroy the enemy’s resources and morale.

  cog: a sailing ship used mainly for cargo up to 200 tons; some also had passenger accommodation.

  coif: tight linen cap, worn by men and women, also by a knight under his helmet.

  commission of array: officials sent out to assess men aged 16 – 60 for service in the royal army.

  coney: a young rabbit – also its fur.

  cope-chest: a large half-moon-shaped chest for storing ceremonial church robes.

  coppicer: harvester of regrowth from tree-stumps for brushwood, poles and posts.

  Crécy: location in France of 1346 battle when Welsh longbowmen were credited with giving England a glorious victory.

  crenellation: the ‘gapped teeth’ of castle battlements.

  cuirass: armour protecting the torso = a breastplate and backplate fastened together.

  dagged, dagging: decorative ‘ragged’ edging, on long sleeves of gowns and doublets, lined with a contrasting colour and often trailing the floor for effect.

  damask: an elaborately decorated silk fabric originating in Damascus.

  destrier: cavalry horse capable of carrying a knight in full armour – a charger.

  Dewisland: area around St David’s in Pembrokeshire. Dewi=nickname for David.

  Dinefŵr: pron: Dynvoor. A castle in Dyfyd, much fought over in Welsh wars.

  divine right: belief that royal blood imbued kings with a God-given right-to-rule.

  dorter: a dormitory in a monastery or attached hospice. cf.*reredorter

  *doublet: a gentleman’s jacket, shorter and more fitted than a gown.

  droit de seigneur: the alleged right of a lord to deflower a vassal’s bride.

  eisteddfod: a festival of the Welsh arts, still held regularly today.

  estampie: a vigorous dance from France.

  greave: armour protecting the shin.

  gauntlet: an armoured glove.

  hauberk: chainmail protective tunic.

  hippocras: a sweetened and spiced wine-cup.

  hogshead: a very large barrel = over 50 gallon capacity.

  holland: a coarse unbleached linen fabric, originating in the Lowlands.

  honour: a collection of manors held by one lord.

  hose, hosen: leg-wear – 15thC gentlemen’s hose was tight and joined at the top with a convenience pouch at the front. Women wore separate hosen like today’s stockings, held up by garters.

  hulk: large medieval cargo ship, crude in design but capable of carrying up to 700 tons.

  joint-stool: a collapsible seat joined in the middle which opened as a wide X.

  *kirtle: lady’s dress, often showing under an outer robe and worn over a *chemise.

  Lamphey Palace: summer residence of the Bishops of St. David’s located near Pembroke.

  *lance: long *pole-weapon used by mounted men at arms, especially in jousting.

  livre: French coin similar to the English crown.

  malmsey: a type of grape from which a strong, sweet wine was made. Imported from Spain.

  limner: an artist, especially of heraldry, miniatures and illuminations.

  March: border-lands between England and the old Welsh Principality, held by English noblemen. At times included the southern counties of Gwent, Glamorgan, Carmarthen and Pembroke.

  Maxstoke Castle: one of many held by the Duke of Buckingham, located near Coleshill, east of Birmingham.

  mews: accommodation for hawks and falcons. Later a garage for carriages and latterly cars.

  minerva: fur trimming taken from the red squirrel for court and ceremonial robes of lesser nobles.

  misericord: a row of narrow ‘ledge’ seats in a church choir-stall, allowing support when standing for long periods. (From Latin miserereor = ‘have pity’.)

  mullion: stone division between the lights of windows.

  ninepins: medieval game of skittles.

  Offa’s Dyke: a ditch roughly marking the border between Wales and England, dug in the 8thC.

  palfrey: a riding horse, often a mare. Definitely not a warhorse.

  pannier: a basket used in a pair, slung over a horse or mule for transporting goods.

  pargetting/pargetted: patterned plasterwork often used on timber-framed houses.

  park: an enclosed area of land reserved for a lord’s hunting.

  pattens: wooden or cast iron hooped soles, which could be strapped to the foot. Raised the wearer above snow, mud, puddles and refuse.

  Pembroke: town and castle on Milford Haven. Admin. centre of Jasper’s earldom.

  pike: a long pole-weapon with a sharp metal head used by foot-soldiers.

  Placentia: name given to the royal palace at Greenwich – cf. Pleasance.

  pole-arms: any battle weapon on a long pole – pike*, halberd*, axe etc. Used by infantry. The mounted equivalent was the lance*.

  poniard: a small dagger.

  Poitier
s: location in France of 1356 battle when England was victorious.

  portcullis: a defensive iron lattice gate. Also a Beaufort* heraldic symbol.

  pottage: a thick soup made with anything available.

  psalter: a personal prayer-book, often beautifully illuminated.

  readeption: = reattainment (from Latin adeptus = having attained)

  *reredorter: a monastery latrine. (rere=behind dorter=dormitory)

  quintain: a device for teaching accuracy at jousting.

  sabaton: armour for protection of the upper foot.

  sallet: a style of helmet not unlike a WW2 ‘tin hat’.

  sapper: one who digs to undermine masonry.

  St Alban: a Roman Briton who was executed for refusing to deny his Christian faith. St Albans Abbey (now a cathedral) was founded as his shrine.

  sumpter: a packhorse, especially that of a knight, carrying his armour.

  sumptuary laws: regulating clothing and diet, to prevent people living ‘above their station’. (Nothing to do with ‘sumpter’!)

  surcôte or surcoat: outer tunic or jacket, often of rich material, worn over armour and bearing the owner’s coat of arms.

  uterine: ‘of the womb’, i.e. offspring of one mother by different fathers.

  verteagle: heraldic symbol showing a green eagle with wings spread on a yellow ground. Personal badge of Warwick’s father Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury.

  vintner: a dealer and importer of wine.

  *wimple: woman’s headdress covering hair, by mid 15thC becoming restricted to nuns and widows. (see coif)

  WELSH WORDS AND NAMES

  Abermaw: name for the present day town of Barmouth, at the mouth of the River Mawddach.

  ab: son of (before a name beginning with a vowel)

  ap: son of (before a name beginning with a consonant)

  Bethan: a form of the English name Elizabeth.

  brwd: praise or enthusiasm – also a poem written in that vein.

  Dai: a shortening of Dafydd = David in English

  Dewi: an affectionate shortening of Dafydd, often used for St David, patron saint of Wales.

  eisteddfod: a festival of music and poetry.