*
There were several reasons why Henry did not return to England directly after his return from the reyse. It was so late in the year that storms could be expected on the long voyage, which meant it would be both miserable and dangerous at sea. Two of his men were probably still held captive, and to leave them behind would be dishonourable. Henry himself was ill, and needed the attentions of a physician from Marienberg.37 And he had no wish to return and have to put up with the bitterness of the English court. Although Henry learned on 1 November 1390 that he now had a fourth son, Humphrey (named after Mary’s father), that in itself was insufficient to tempt him to return. He was independent on his travels, and that independence suited him.38 Besides, he liked these German knights with whom he had been fighting and bonding. Like Boucicaut, they had both spiritual virtue and martial skill. They had pride in themselves, as men and as fighters. They thought of themselves as soldiers of Christ. They were dedicated. They knew how to enjoy themselves too, with their hunting and jousting.39 They espoused all the virtues in which Henry also believed.
At Königsberg Henry listened to music, feasted, prayed and attended the funeral of one of his esquires. He had captured some pagan boys on the reyse, and now had them baptised and installed them in his own household for their education. His accounts note payments for carrying his hunting gear – two cartloads of it – to go hunting with Marshal Rabe. He wrote letters home, and sent them via his esquires, paying each time twenty marks (£13 6s 8d) for their delivery.40 The noblemen sent their entertainers and musicians to each other, and in this way Henry and his six minstrels – his trumpeters, pipers and a percussionist – would have been exposed to different tunes and rhythms.41 One Hans the Hornpiper seems to have gone down very well, for Henry gave him several large payments.42 Although foreign beers had been imported into England before this time, now Henry was able to sup continental beverages in quantity.43 He also saw the horses of Eastern Europe, and came face to face with Russian troops. Presents given to him, for his amusement, sport or curiosity, include three bears, hawks, a wild bull and an elk.44 It is not clear what he did with all these animals, least of all the elk.
Henry remained at Königsberg from November until 9 February, when he removed his household to Danzig. Arriving there on 15 February, he lodged at the house of one Klaus Gottesknight, while his retinue lodged at a bishop’s house in the town. A group of clerics gathered to sing to him.45 Three fiddlers came to play to him in Lent, receiving a whole mark (13s 4d) as a reward.46 On 5 January he doled out many gifts to his minstrels, knights, esquires, grooms, valets and servants, giving most of them a warm fur gown against the bitter cold of the winter. Another of his servants died, and he paid for a tomb to be built for him at Königsberg. A series of pilgrimages occupied him in Holy Week: he visited at least four churches each day, and gave alms to the poor wherever he went. On Maundy Thursday (23 March) he gave alms, clothes and shoes to twenty-four paupers (that being the day he entered his twenty-fourth year).47 Finally, at the end of the month, after a deluge of gifts, alms and goodbyes, he stepped on board his ship again and set sail for England. With him went John Ralph and Ingelard of Prussia, two of the several boys he had converted to Christianity.48 It took his pilot four weeks to guide the ship across the twelve hundred miles home.49
*
Henry’s first voyage overseas magnified his reputation in England in every possible way. Not even his glorious grandfather, Edward III, had actually taken part in a crusade. His other grandfather had reached Stettin (eighty miles north-east of Berlin) on his 1352 expedition, but if he actually joined the reyse that year, his exploits were neither notable nor memorable. As far as anyone in England was aware, Henry was the first member of the English royal family to take part in a holy war since Prince Edward (later Edward I), more than a hundred years earlier.
A more subtle aspect, of which everyone would have been keenly aware at the time, was that Henry had been representing England. Some writers in the past have called Henry’s expedition ‘semi-diplomatic’, even though there was no specific foreign-relations purpose to Henry’s voyage.50 But there was one sense in which Henry’s journey did have a diplomatic dimension: he was a walking advertisement for England, with regard to his appearance and largesse, and his men were an advertisement for the supremacy of the English longbow over all other weapons of war. This is an important fact to bear in mind, for when Englishmen heard that Henry had won a river battle against the pagan Russians, and when they heard that it was an Englishman in Henry’s entourage who first placed the flag of St George on the walls of Vilnius, they understood these as English victories. They knew also that these acts had been witnessed by men from many other countries: from Germany, Hungary, Poland, France and Italy. Henry had been exporting the idea that the English royal family still bred warriors of the stature of Edward III and Duke Henry.
We get a real sense of this inspiration and national pride from reading the chronicle of the monk of Westminster. In a very telling passage, the monk wrote that Henry landed on 8 August 1390 at Danzig. This is actually wrong – Henry landed, as we have seen, at Rixhöft – but in that very error we have good evidence that the chronicler received his information from one of the men who sailed with Henry, for most of them did disembark at Danzig. It is not hard to picture an esquire from Henry’s retinue sitting down with a cup of wine in the hearing of a number of clerics at Westminster, and telling them the story of how Henry had marched to join the marshal of Prussia against the king of Lithuania at the head of fifty lances and sixty bowmen, and how, on the banks of the River Memel, Marshal Rabe had ridden forth to greet Henry with ‘his face wreathed in a smile of pleasure’. The esquire went on to say that at the battle to cross the river three Russian ‘dukes’ were captured by the ‘Christians’ and three others killed, and three hundred men were left for dead, with Skirgiello fleeing for his life. Of course there was no reference to the fact that Skirgiello himself was a Christian. In his version of this story, ‘the king of Lithuania’ fled from Henry and holed himself up in the citadel of Vilnius. Although the siege was ultimately unsuccessful, in the conquest of the town the Prussian marshal seized 8,000 prisoners for conversion, and the master of the Livonians took a further 3,500. And, of course, the man who first planted the flag of St George on the walls of Vilnius became not one of Henry’s men but Henry himself.51 Such is the nature of story telling, especially stories about deeds of valour.
Henry did everything he could to live up to this reputation. The news of his crusading success followed on from that of his prowess against Boucicaut at St Inglevert, and Henry was keen to demonstrate his fighting skills on English soil. He set about amassing new armour: jousting helmets and visors, bascinets for war, bascinets with aventails (hanging mail collars), vambraces, rerebraces, manifers (gauntlets), breastplates, lances of steel and wood, mail coverings and swords. On 24 June, Henry was supplied with new armour and eighteen lances for a tournament.52 Shortly afterwards, he went up to London, from which he travelled by barge to Lambeth, and then on to Kennington, where another joust was to take place.53 For this he bought another eighteen lances, and dressed in spangles, as he had done at his earliest recorded tournament.54 In September, at Hertford, Henry started planning for the next tournament, this one to be at Waltham on 6 October.55 These were all supposedly jousts of peace, but even so Henry obtained new steel lances, just in case he would be challenged to the ultimate test.
In this way Henry can be seen to have returned from his expedition much more confident and self-assured than before. So inspiring were the tales of adventure from the east that a number of lords set off to take part in the 1391 reyse, including Lords Despenser, Beaumont, Clifford and Bourchier (who set off in May). Henry’s uncle, the duke of Gloucester, also set off for Lithuania, but was caught in a storm, lost his ship and was washed ashore at Bamburgh.56 Henry’s time abroad had also taught him how to live and behave like a prince. The enormous wealth bestowed on him by his father, combined w
ith his own independence, gave him the chance to buy what he wanted and give lavishly. The serious student of piety and the lance had blossomed into a champion with depth of character: an affable, knowledgeable and likeable young man.
Despite all this glory and affability, the fact remained that he was now back in England, and that was where his real problems lay. He did not attend court. He probably saw Richard at the Kennington tournament in July, at which time the king gave him a couple of pieces of plate armour, but the Lancastrians kept themselves to themselves, just as Richard kept his court tightly around him. Not surprisingly, Henry preferred to be with his family than with the king. Mary was pregnant again, with their fifth child. They indulged themselves in their love of music together: at Peterborough they were entertained by two minstrels accompanying each other on the lute and fiddle.57 When Henry went to London for the parliament on 3 November, he sent Mary a present of a hundred apples (‘costardes’), and a hundred and fifty pears (‘wardens’).58 All this homely fireside love and music is of an altogether different character from Henry’s position at court. In public he and Richard wore thin-lipped smiles for the sake of politeness and exchanged formal presents; privately they kept apart, and only came together when Richard needed the support of the Lancastrians.
A third faction was developing around the young earl of March, whom Richard had once rashly declared to be his heir. Although he had no intention now of ratifying this, the announcement had given Hotspur – who was married to the earl’s sister – good reason to hope that March would succeed Richard. There was no getting away from the fact that Richard had now been married for nearly ten years and Anne had not once become pregnant, let alone given birth. Thus, when the earl of March’s wife gave birth to a son, Edmund Mortimer, in early November 1391, no one could have ignored the implications for the succession. The earl of March had a responsibility to try to preserve the inheritance for his son, just as John had ambitions for Henry.
The parliament of November 1391 itself raised further questions. The chancellor declared in his opening speech that one of the purposes of the meeting was again to discuss the issue of maintenance, with connotations for those wearing livery collars. The repeal of the Statute of Provisors was discussed, with a firm anti-papal statement coming from the commons. The wool trade was debated, especially the problems arising from a collapse in wool prices, which in turn were perhaps a consequence of the plague that ravaged the north that summer.59 Further reforms were enacted relating to the administration of admirals, the duties of Justices of the Peace to prevent forced entry on to another man’s property, the removal of the tin staple (official trading post) from Cornwall to Calais, and the alienation of land to religious institutions. But most importantly, on the last day of the parliament the commons presented a petition to the committee appointed for the purpose (which, for the first time, included Henry), demanding that Richard should be ‘as free in his regality, liberty and royal dignity as any of his predecessors’, and that he should not be restrained by any statute or ordinance, including those passed in the reign of Edward II. Richard had been clever. If the Appellants could use parliament to limit the power of the king, then he could use it to bolster his authority. Henry and the rest of the committee had no choice but to assent to such a petition, even though it clearly originated with the king himself. So they passed it on for the king to ratify, which he did, declaring himself ‘well-pleased’ with the commons’ request.60
The very next day, Henry removed himself from court.61
FIVE
As Far as to the Sepulchre of Christ
Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ –
whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
we are impressed and engaged to fight –
forthwith a power of English we shall levy;
Henry IV Part One, Act 1, Scene 1
Henry spent Christmas 1391 at Hertford with his father, wife and children. He took part in a tournament, his fourth since returning to England. On Christmas Day a dolphin was seen in the Thames, which prompted one chronicler to write a short passage all about dolphins for those of his readers who had never seen these marvellous creatures which ‘generally, as they leap, fly across the sails of ships’. Notwithstanding this wonderful monastic exaggeration, from his reference to the dolphin’s appearance foretelling the bad storms the following week we may be sure that the season was stormy.1 Heralds arrived from France in the rain to invite Henry to take part in jousts with French knights the following year.2 In the fire-lit evenings, Henry’s and John’s musicians entertained the gathering, Henry further showing his appreciation of their contribution with large rewards.3
Then came the giving of traditional New Year presents.4 To the king Henry sent a gold brooch in the style of a panther with sapphires and pearls, costing £7. To his father he gave a golden swan with a ruby and pearls, costing £12 17s 4d. To Mary he gave a golden hind covered in white enamel with a golden collar around its neck, at a cost of £9.5 This reference in particular has interested art historians over the years, as white enamel is a rare refinement of the jeweller’s art and one exquisitely displayed in the famous Dunstable swan jewel: a tiny gold swan in white enamel which also has a golden collar around its neck. In fact, there is a reference in this same account to Henry paying Ludwig the Goldsmith for ‘mending and enamelling a golden swan’ of Henry’s own, which he had broken, which probably relates to something very similar to the Dunstable swan jewel.6 Other presents of jewels were given out to the duchess of Lancaster (Henry’s stepmother), the duchess of Gloucester (Mary’s sister), the countess of Huntingdon (Henry’s sister), Thomas Mowbray, earl of Nottingham, Katherine Swynford, Joan Beaufort (Henry’s half-sister), and the principal officers of his and his father’s households. One of the pagan boys he had brought back from his crusade also received a present of a golden brooch with a diamond, worth £1 10s. Henry received presents in return from the king and queen, his father, the duchess of Lancaster, the duke and duchess of Gloucester, the countess of Hereford, the countess of Huntingdon, Katherine Swynford and Thomas Mowbray.7
Apart from his uncle, the duke of York, with whom Henry never exchanged presents, two names are conspicuous by their absence from this list. Warwick and Arundel had been fellow Appellants, and in 1388 they had both been high on Henry’s New Year presents list. Yet now they had dropped off. The splits between the Lords Appellant had become so wide that the king could turn them against one another. He could also start to undo the work they had done. In presenting that petition on the last day of the last parliament, he had already secured his freedom from councils being brought against him. Now he sought to accomplish the final stage of his rehabilitation as king, the return of his banished friends.
At the beginning of February Henry and John were summoned to a royal council at Westminster to discuss the forthcoming negotiations for peace with France. Henry was present on the 12th when it was decided that the embassy should be led by John of Gaunt, and that John should be accompanied by the bishop of Durham, the earl of Huntingdon, Lord Cobham and Thomas Percy.8 Although Henry was planning to accompany his father, no mention was made of him having an official capacity, even though he was of considerably higher status than either Percy or Cobham. Henry did not attend the king for the following two days. Then on the 15th he took part in the discussions about the last two surviving men who had been sentenced to death for high treason in the Merciless Parliament. This was how Richard hoped finally to reverse the processes by which Henry and the other Appellants had sought to restrain his authority in 1388. Richard probably thought it not too much to ask; Tresilian and Brembre had been executed at the time, and de la Pole had died in exile in Paris the year after the trial, so he was only asking for two men to be restored to him (Archbishop Neville and de Vere). Four years had now passed since they had fled: might they now be allowed to return? With emphasis, the lords present, including Henry and John, rejected this supplication.9 They u
rged Richard to recognise that the banishment was permanent. Richard had no option but to accept this, at least for the time being.
Henry, his father and the other emissaries left London on 25 February. They travelled slowly down to Dover and sent their possessions ahead to Calais, following on afterwards and arriving on 11 March.10 When assembled, the retinue consisted of more than two hundred mounted men. The king of France had undertaken to pay the expenses of the ambassadors once they crossed the Channel, and sent four dukes to receive them. The royal uncles – the dukes of Berry and Burgundy – rode ceremonially on either side of John of Gaunt on the way to Amiens, exactly keeping pace with him. When they arrived, John repaid the courtesy by going directly to the bishop’s palace to pay his respects to King Charles, bowing three times before him. Everything was designed to make this a most impressive event, even down to the security arrangements. Frenchmen were warned that those involved in a fight with any member of the English party would be summarily executed. English arms and bows did not have to be deposited with innkeepers, and there were four thousand Frenchmen on guard at the corners of the town, as well as specially detailed brigades to cope with any fires which might break out.11
Negotiations went on for fifteen days. The English had the outline of a treaty, and so did the French. Unfortunately, these outlines had nothing in common. Each thought the other wanted a permanent peace far more desperately than the other, and that the other side was prepared to make significant compromises. The English wanted a return to the terms won by Edward III in 1360, with the payment of the rest of the ransom of the late King John, who had died in 1364: an unrealistic proposal. The French wanted the English to surrender Calais and recognise French sovereignty over the whole of Gascony, with Aquitaine being given to the duke of Berry for his lifetime and thereafter to John of Gaunt and his heirs: an equally unrealistic proposition. So no agreement was possible. All that this ostentatious meeting managed to secure was a truce for a further year, which was agreed on 8 April. Then, with as much ceremony as they had received on arrival, the English were escorted back to Calais. A few days later, Henry and his father were back in England and riding towards Eltham Palace, to report to the king.12
The Fears of Henry IV: The Life of England's Self-Made King Page 15