Royal Witches E-Book

Gemma Hollman

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 547

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

'An important and timely book' – Philippa Gregory 'Poignant, unique and thought-provoking' – All About History 'This introduces new readers, in the most accessible and colourful way, to a group of royal women who certainly deserve more public notice than they have hitherto received' – Professor Ronald Hutton, author of The Witch: A History of Fear, from Ancient Times to the Present Joan of Navarre was the richest woman in the land, at a time when war-torn England was penniless. Eleanor Cobham was the wife of a weak king's uncle – and her husband was about to fall from grace. Jacquetta Woodville was a personal enemy of Warwick the Kingmaker, who was about to take his revenge. Elizabeth Woodville was the widowed mother of a child king, fighting Richard III for her children's lives. Often seen as the more easily manipulated pieces on the political chessboard, women – especially those with power or influence – were often subjected to rumour, scandal and intrigue directed by the men who sought to control them. In Royal Witches, Gemma Hollman explores the lives of these four unique women, looking at how rumours of witchcraft brought them to their knees in an era when superstition and suspicion was rife.

Leseprobe

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gemma Hollman’s love of history began when she was a child, where she lapped up the Horrible Histories books and asked endless questions at school (probably to the frustration of her teachers). She later became intrigued as to how understudied the history of women had been and, through her time at university, began to learn about the plethora of strong, intriguing and complicated women of the medieval period, a time she was always taught was dominated by men.

Out of this interest grew Royal Witches, which began as Hollman’s dissertation for her master’s degree in Medieval History. She also writes and curates the ‘Just History Posts’ blog, where she shares snippets of history with the public in short, readable posts, while working full time in the heritage industry.

For Mr Hough and Ms Robinsonfor encouraging my love of history

Thorowowt a pales as I can passe,

I hard a lady make gret mone,

And ever she syked and sayd, ‘Alas!

Alle wordly joy ys from me gone;

And alle my frendes from me can fle;

Alas! I am fulle woo begon;

Alle women may be ware by me’.

The Lament of the Duchess of Gloucester, late fifteenth century

Cover illustration: Engraving from Ebenezer Sibly’s A Key to Physic, and the Occult Sciences, 1796. (Alamy)

First published 2019

This edition first published 2021

The History Press

97 St George’s Place, Cheltenham,

Gloucestershire, GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Gemma Hollman, 2019, 2021

The right of Gemma Hollman to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 7509 9350 0

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ Books Limited, Padstow, Cornwall

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Author’s Notes

Introduction

1 Magic in the Late Medieval Period

JOAN OF NAVARRE

2 Duchess of Brittany

3 Our Most Dear Mother

4 In the Most Evil and Terrible Manner Imaginable

ELEANOR COBHAM

5 A Very Noble Lady

6 From Mistress to Princess

7 The Duchess and the Witch of Eye

8 Alle Women May Beware By Me

JACQUETTA OF LUXEMBOURG & ELIZABETH WOODVILLE

9 Lively, Beautiful and Gracious

10 From Woods to Rivers

11 A Common Noise of Witchcraft

12 The Mother, the Queen and the Mistress

13 A Royal Coven of Witches

Genealogical Tables

Notes

Bibliography

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

WRITING A BOOK is a huge task, and as such there are always many people to thank in its production. My first thanks must go to Dr Sethina Watson at the University of York, who first introduced me during my undergraduate degree to the plethora of amazing women in medieval society. I was intrigued to learn not only how powerful women at court could be, but how under-studied they were and sometimes difficult to trace. It inspired me to go down this particular route of research. My thanks also extend to Dr Jeremy Goldberg, who helped foster my idea to study royal witches and supported me as I developed the idea in its infancy as a Master’s dissertation.

Huge thanks go to my mother Bernadette, who supported me financially during the writing of the book, and without whom it would not have been possible. Thanks must also go to all of my friends and family who encouraged me to put pen to paper, read over first drafts, and gave me great feedback and overall support. This includes, but is not limited to, my father Ross, Aaron, Ella, Ann, Jill, Cat, Fiona, Harriet, Lorraine and, most specially, to my partner Conor for being my rock through the process. Thank you for keeping me sane during this period. Thanks finally go to Chrissy and the rest of the team at The History Press for being so enthusiastic about my idea and giving me an opportunity to bring it to public light.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

LANGUAGE IN THE medieval period was ever changing, just like it is today. In a time prior to the printing press or dictionaries, spellings varied greatly from source to source. This extended to names, and often no two sources will spell a name the same way. That applies also to the people in this book. For ease of reading, I have used the generally accepted modern, anglicised versions of names, and at times translated quotations to modern English. Where appropriate, however, I have included quotations with contemporary spelling, for it can give us a better connection to the past to read the language how it was spoken. Fifteenth-century England is also notorious for a great repetition of names, which can make reading exceedingly confusing. For this reason, I have used first names for those closest to the women, their family members, to make it more personal – it is how they would have known each other. For the political players around them, however, I have largely stuck with their titles or surnames to help the reader make an easier distinction between people.

INTRODUCTION

THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY is an extremely popular period for writers of both fiction and non-fiction. It saw the height of the English empire in France, the glory days of the Battle of Agincourt, the trial and burning of Joan of Arc, the fall of the English empire, the turbulent civil war years of the Wars of the Roses, the probable murder of the Princes in the Tower, the Battle of Bosworth, and finally the foundation of the Tudor dynasty of which England – and the world – is still so fond.

And yet, in among this rich history, the royal women who were so instrumental to these dynasties are almost forgotten. It is only really during accounts of the Wars of the Roses that historians seem to remember the presence of these women, and that is only because their role cannot be ignored; Margaret of Anjou, in particular, led the fight on behalf of her husband King Henry VI who, by this point, was almost entirely incapacitated by his mental illness.

This book focuses on four women who were part of the royal family during this century. The first is Queen Joan of Navarre, who came to England at the start of the century when she married King Henry IV. Next is Eleanor Cobham who, in 1428, married Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, who was one of Henry’s sons and thus a Prince of England. Humphrey’s brother, John, Duke of Bedford, married the next woman in this book, Jacquetta of Luxembourg. Jacquetta’s second husband was the knight Richard Woodville, with whom she had the final woman in the book, Elizabeth Woodville. Elizabeth Woodville eventually married King Edward IV and became queen.

Despite their crucial role in government and politics, Elizabeth Woodville is the only woman of the four to have an entire book dedicated to her. The other three have usually appeared as footnotes in the history of men, mentioned only for the children they gave birth to, or for how they led to the downfall of the men they were connected to. This book is the first ever volume to be dedicated solely to these four women, and to link their stories together. All four came from different countries and different levels of society, and none were born into the English royal family. Despite this, they were linked by one incredible thread: they were all accused of using witchcraft to manipulate the king to their will, be it through love or death. When the stories of the mass witch hunts and hysteria of the early modern period are so well known, many are astonished to find that two centuries earlier these accusations were hitting the highest echelons of English society. What is even more astonishing is how very few have ever heard of these accusations.

The fifteenth century saw changes and instability in English politics that had not been seen for a long time. At the turn of the century, a new king, Henry IV, was sitting on the throne after the usurpation of the previous king, Richard II. The wars with France were renewed, and the accession of the 9-month-old King Henry VI, alongside the resulting extended regency, meant that factions grew at court with conflict and in-fighting rife. This was only exacerbated by the civil wars in the second half of the century, and the fact that there were four different Kings of England between 1483 and 1485.

With so much turmoil going on in English politics in these 100 years, it was inevitable that this conflict would next extend to female members of the royal family and nobility. Women were wives, mothers, sisters and daughters to the men who were ruling and, as women, they were inherently vulnerable. Generally, they could not command armies and garner military support in the same way as their male contemporaries (although, as always, there were exceptions to the rule) and their lack of any official roles in the machinations of government meant they were always at risk. While men could be protected by their power and status, confident that they could muster military support to defend them when needed, women did not have the same opportunities. While, in reality, they wielded vast power at court, being able to influence on a personal level, and having their own wealth and power they could call upon to get things done, their lack of official capacity simultaneously made them weak and strong.

For the period that this book covers, the women’s most relevant aspects were their relationships to the men around them. When rivals at court wanted to dispose of a competing male they often looked to the women in their lives. It was much easier to take down a woman than a man. Reputation was intertwined in this period, and if a family member had acted questionably then one’s own loyalty could be called into question.

In a world where women held no official position at court, it was difficult to find a legitimate reason to attack them. The idea of accusing them of witchcraft was therefore an easy option. It required very little proof, and was incredibly difficult to disprove as it was inherently a covert act performed in private. This was a century in which ideas about witchcraft and magic were developing and solidifying, and the cases against these four women contributed greatly to this, but they were also shaped by the world around them.

The accusations were made for different reasons, but they all had a political basis. It has never properly been recognised how all four of these cases were completely intertwined. They span just under seventy years, and in this time each of these women knew and was related to at least one of the others. After each case the accusers learnt valuable lessons for next time, and we can see how each accusation shaped the next. These women were, at various times, the most powerful women in the entire country, but this was not enough to protect them.

The thing that has been most striking while researching for this book is how two-dimensional the depictions of these women are in the limited writings about them. As they almost always appear as a few side pages in biographies of the men of the time, they never come across as real-life people. They are caricatured villains, driven by greed or a thirst for power, being ruthless in their climbing of the social ladder. If they are not the villain, then they are the saint: Joan is the loving mother who had her children torn from her arms in order to protect them by marrying again; Elizabeth was the virtuous woman who agreed to marry the king in order to protect her chastity and her children, who spent many years in sanctuary in order to protect more of her children, then who tragically also had her children torn from her arms and, this time, murdered.

The narrative of these women is one of centuries of propaganda, changing values and lack of research. Time has often not been taken to see who these women really were, and the lack of sources only contributes to this. But these women were real, complex people, with multiple motives and conflicting feelings. None of them were wholly good or wholly bad. As with any human being, they were a shade of grey. Wherever possible, therefore, a middle ground has been sought among the conflicting accounts of their behaviour where the real person comes through.

The hope is that this book can serve to bring these women to the forefront of their time, where they so rightly deserve to be. All were fascinating women who shaped the world around them. This book aims not only to contribute significantly to the gaps in historiography, creating hitherto unavailable biographies, but also to bring these stories to the public attention. The life of each individual woman is a fascinating story in a century where nothing was certain, and allegiances could change overnight. They found themselves at the centre of some of the biggest scandals of the age which have reverberated across the centuries, now to be retold here. These are the royal witches.

1

MAGIC IN THE LATE MEDIEVAL PERIOD

BEFORE EXPLORING THE lives of the four women contained in this book, it is necessary to take a moment to explore what exactly people in the fifteenth century believed about magic and sorcery. These women are defined as royal witches, but what exactly was a witch? This century was one of huge change, in terms of politics, technology and world view. At the start of the century, there was no singularly defined ‘witch’, but by the end, handbooks were circulating to help law enforcement recognise who could be a witch practising evil magic.

The previous century, courts on the Continent had been awash with intrigues. Even within the court of the Pope, there had been political accusations of sorcery against rival factions.1 Closer to home, the French court had been falling apart due to the insanity of King Charles VI. Charles had delusions that made him believe he was made of glass, or disconnected from the world around him, and this meant there was no strong, stable ruler. Court factions began to take over, and this meant conspiracy in order to displace rivals. The king’s brother, the Duke of Orléans, dominated as the head of one faction. However, his wife Valentina Visconti came under suspicion of witchcraft, for Charles’ mental illness would often calm when she was present.2 When combined with her husband’s power, her guilt was seemingly clear. England had lagged behind the Continent in terms of accusations of magic at court, but as the fifteenth century began, the precedents from elsewhere in Europe made it a tempting weapon.

The lines between magic, science and religion were blurred and ever changing. To modern minds the distinctions seem far clearer, but this was a very different time. Today, the practice of astrology is often seen as a bit of fun, or a load of nonsense, but to many medieval minds it was an absolute science. This does not mean that people blindly believed it – many scholars argued that the stars could hardly guide human fates, particularly when you could have twins who led very different lives.3 However, there was a huge section of society who believed that the cosmos could inform humans of when was an appropriate time to take a certain action. Big events such as a wedding or a battle would go more favourably if they took place under the right phase of the moon or the planets. This was so prevailing that doctors were expected to understand astrology in order to treat their patients effectively. One manuscript from 1395 instructed doctors that they should not bleed a limb if the moon was in the wrong sign.4

When astrology was usually considered a science, it is no surprise then that other practices which could be viewed as magic were also explored as a scientific discipline. Alchemy was the idea that with the right ingredients and conditions, one could transform one material (for example lead) into another (such as gold). Again, instead of being a fanciful notion, many people believed that this was possible. In the early 1400s, an English prince, the Duke of Bedford, employed alchemists in France to find the alchemical formula to make gold so that he could pay his soldiers, the royal purse being low.5

Even at the highest level of society, then, disciplines which could be considered delving into the realm of magic were being approved of and considered intellectually. However, these disciplines were not free from suspicion, and it could be a very fine line between science and magic. The astrologer making predictions for medicine could also use astrological charts for magic. Certain spells needed to be done at particular celestially important times of day or year, and these charts would help track them.6 They could also be used for treasonous acts, such as predicting the death of the king. The scientific man delving into astrology, therefore, was always vulnerable to attack.

At the start of the fourteenth century, there were beginning to emerge two separate strands of magic; that done by laymen, and that done by the elite. It was recognised that there was a clear difference between an old medicine woman in a rural village using herbs and charms for small spells and an educated university man using magical tomes to try and summon the dead. As the century progressed, the elite, demonic witchcraft took on the name ‘nigromancy’, often known today as necromancy. It was believed that by using nigromancy, people could conjure the spirits of the dead in order to ask them questions or to learn about the future.7 Sometimes, however, the strict definition of nigromancy was lost, and it was used as a general term to describe evil magic.

It was these educated men who were far more nefarious. Their education meant that much more dangerous avenues of magic were in their grasp, and it was often these men who were accused of acts of attempted or actual murder or bodily harm. It was very specific to men, for there were very few women at this time who were educated enough to be viewed capable of this. This was an important factor for the women in this book, as several cases therefore necessitated the help of learned men. Women, even royal ones, could not always summon the power for the more extreme acts of magic.

While accusations against men focused on their intellect and professions, another strand of magic tended to be more female orientated: love magic. In the fifteenth-century Munich Handbook, it is explained that evil magic (‘nigromancy’) could be used to ‘drive a person mad, arouse passionate love, to gain favour at court’, among others.8 The ability of witches to influence a person’s thoughts and feelings was believed to be a real danger, and by the end of the century the love aspect of magic was considered a much more feminine act. One contemporary witch-hunter considered that women were inherently lusty and so used magic to tempt new lovers or take their revenge against those who had scorned them.9 As the century progressed, and the accusations in this book took place, these assumptions about gender identity and witchcraft became ever clearer.

Witchcraft became closely identified with issues in the Church as ideas solidified. Witchcraft had usually been considered under the jurisdiction of the Church, as there were not necessarily secular laws against it. By the end of the fifteenth century, however, it was strongly believed that a witch was in league with the devil, and had turned their back on Christianity. Therefore, accused witches were tried as heretics, rather than necessarily for the crime of witchcraft. Witchcraft was also a problem within the Church, for often the most educated men of the time were members of the clergy, and therefore those implicated in accusations. Usually, if the accusations of practising witchcraft were not too malicious, the Church would let the accused go free on the promise that they did not reoffend. For most small-scale local practitioners, it was not worth the effort to fully prosecute them.

Religion and magic could also have blurred lines. The Catholic Church in the late medieval period encouraged praying to saints for intercessions, and members of the royalty or nobility would often use relics as powerful tools. A noble woman worried about a difficult birth might borrow the girdle of a female saint to wear during the birth to protect her. A sword might be inscribed with text from the Bible, or with Jesus’ name, to protect the user. In the same way, objects could be infused with magical incantations to cause harm or bestow protection.10 Both were done for similar purposes, with different intentions, for a similar outcome. While the two acts did have distinctions to the medieval mind, it still demonstrates that distinctions between magic, religion and science were not clear cut.

The most important thing to remember is that it was truly believed that there were people in the world who could use magic, and they could use this magic to cause real harm. Even if judges may be sceptical about whether the person really was a witch in one particular case, this was not to say that they did not believe in witches at all. This is why accusations of witchcraft were so powerful; they really could be partaking in nigromancy. Kings would issue orders for the Church to say prayers for their protection if it were thought that sorcerers were at work, and the insanity of one king or the unexplained death of another found an easy answer in witchcraft.

Accusations of witchcraft always found strongest currency in an uncertain climate – the arrival of a new, foreign queen and her foreign servants; the sudden rise of a relatively obscure courtier to a position of power; the insanity or minority of a king leading to factions at court. It was almost always within these climates that political accusations of witchcraft were to be found. It was also under these circumstances that the women in this book found themselves.

At the start of the fifteenth century, the word ‘witch’ was not necessarily in common vocabulary. By 1487 – just four years after the last case in this book – the Malleus Maleficarum was published in Germany. The book, known as the ‘Hammer of Witches’, was a guide for secular and religious authorities dedicated to describing what witches were, how they acted, and how they looked, so that they could successfully identify and prosecute them. The Malleus overwhelmingly blamed women for witchcraft, and although at the time of its publication it was just one theory among many, by the mid-sixteenth century it was regarded as the authority on witchcraft.11 This development runs alongside the women in this book. The earliest accusation was the least severe in terms of consequence and substance, but as the century progressed and people saw its success as an accusation, each case began to inform the next. Tried and tested methods developed, and each allegation had traces of the previous one in it. As ideas of witchcraft solidified in the century, so it influenced the accusations against these women. But the relationship was symbiotic. As each woman was accused, so did their case influence contemporary ideas of witchcraft. Each time, the charges became easier to bring. It is time to learn their stories.

2

DUCHESS OF BRITTANY

JOAN OF NAVARRE was born around 1370, the sixth of seven children of Charles II (‘the Bad’) of Navarre and Joan of Valois. She was always destined for greatness; her lineage demanded it. Her father had been King of Navarre since 1349.

Navarre was a small independent state that lay between the huge Spanish territories of Castile and Aragon, and the French- and English-controlled lands in modern-day France. The territory had been ruled by both Aragon and France across the medieval period, but changes in the fourteenth century in the French dynasty meant that Charles’ father Philip III acceded to the throne of Navarre as an independent ruler through the rights of his wife, Joan II of Navarre. Charles II owned huge swathes of land in northern France, including extensive territory in Normandy, and was related to the French Crown through both his mother and father – his mother Joan II being the only child of King Louis X, and his father Philip being first cousin to King Philip VI.

Joan of Navarre’s mother, Joan of Valois, also had impressive blood flowing through her veins. The daughter of John II of France, she was also of French royalty. Her mother was Bonne of Luxembourg, giving both Joans connections to the royalty of Bohemia. Joan of Valois died at the age of 30, three years after Joan of Navarre’s birth. Charles never remarried, and so Joan grew up without a mother.

Although Joan was a Princess of Navarre, she most likely spent a lot of her early years in France. Her father spent most of his time in the country, using Navarre mainly as a source of money and manpower to extend his power in France. He had spent the first seventeen years of his life there (his father being Count of Évreux), meaning he probably viewed himself more as a French native than having any affiliation with his mother’s kingdom of Navarre. Joan’s mother died in Évreux, and this means it is likely that Joan was in the city with her mother upon her death, considering she was only 3 years old. As such, Joan almost certainly was brought up to speak French.

As a young princess, Joan would typically have expected to spend the first six or seven years of her life living with her mother and would then have begun some training in the skills that would later be required of her as a wife to another member of European nobility. This training would typically take place in the household of another noble – in this way, children (both male and female) were essentially being sent to a finishing school, where they would serve a fellow lord or lady, while simultaneously learning the skills needed to run their own household or estate. As a princess, however, it is unlikely that Joan would have moved to another household, and teaching would have taken place in her parents’ own court.

Once her mother had died, however, this became more difficult. Her mother would have been expected to be the main source of learning for Joan and a great example to follow. As with so many women in this period, no matter their rank, almost nothing is known of Joan’s childhood until her marriage at 16 years old. It is impossible to know whether Joan stayed with her father’s court as he travelled around France, busy in war and diplomacy with the French and English, or if – as was more likely, considering the precarious political position Charles was putting himself in – Joan kept her own small household in one of the family’s properties, possibly in Évreux.

In 1337, the Hundred Years War had begun between England and France. The English King Edward III claimed the throne of France through the right of his mother, Isabella of France, who was the only child remaining of Philip IV. However, the French questioned the ability of the Crown to pass through female hands, particularly when this would mean an English king taking over. Conflicts had been raging for decades between the two countries, who both attempted to capture important territories to bring them wealth, power and resources. Leaders of smaller, independent territories around the two nations, such as Navarre, therefore came in the firing line.

Charles II had attempted to increase his own power by playing one side off against the other, and this had often burnt him. After a revolution in Paris which Charles’ supporters had created, Charles found himself the subject of the dauphin’s ire. On 31 August 1358, the dauphin accused him of using magic against him, with his followers attempting to ‘perish all the royal house’. A man who was either a physician or astrologer (or both) of Charles’ was found to have paraphernalia of sorcery in his home.1 Charles seems to have escaped without punishment, but within six years the dauphin became King Charles V of France, and so Charles of Navarre now had a powerful enemy.

Charles continued his risky game of siding alternately with the English and the French in their wars. By 1379, Charles of Navarre had come out a loser. He had lost most of his territories in France, and his own kingdom of Navarre had been invaded by the armies of Castile, who agreed to peace only after securing twenty fortresses in southern Navarre.2 From this point onwards, Charles was forced to mostly reside in Navarre, and Joan certainly would have joined his court there. By now she was 8 years old and was possibly aware of how her father had failed due to his rashness and unwise political moves. Considering Joan’s future diplomatic nature, and apparent calmness and rationality under pressure, she may well have learnt particularly well from her father’s failures.

Now that she was back in Navarre, and of a suitable age, Joan would certainly have begun courtly training. As a princess, Joan was one of the lucky women of her age who was taught to read and write. She certainly was taught French, and possibly would have been instructed in the Navarro-Aragonese language of her homeland, although this may not have been considered necessary for her, particularly as it was likely she was going to marry a foreigner. As her father had had much to do with the English, and the English played a huge part in the politics of Western Europe, especially in her father’s territories, it is possible that she was also taught English as a child.

Joan was taught to read and write as necessities to prepare her for the future task of running estates and possibly to intervene in politics, but much of the rest of her upbringing would have been what was traditionally expected of a woman in the nobility. She would have been taught how to sew, dance, play music, and would have been given extensive etiquette classes. Expected female behaviour at the time was often a contradiction. Instruction manuals such as the Book of the Knight of La Tour-Landry told noblewomen that they were supposed to be ‘meek, easy in speech, and in answer courteous and gentle’ and not answer back to men.3 This was agreed upon by a female contemporary, Christine de Pisan, who wrote advice books for European princesses. She also stated that princesses should speak demurely and sweetly, act modestly, with good manners and courteous behaviour. She summarises why a princess should behave properly: ‘A lady is more feared and respected and held in greater reverence when she is seen to be wise and chaste.’4

Despite this expectation – and it was certainly a realistic expectation, as those who subverted this were viewed scathingly – the reality was that men at court did not want an overtly chaste, quiet woman. Put simply, it was boring. Although they wanted a woman who held these qualities, particularly in public, as could be expected, in reality men still wanted women with whom they could have good conversations, who were witty and charming and had a sense of allure and intelligence. Despite writings that claimed otherwise, very few really wanted a trophy wife who would simply sit quietly in the corner and could not hold her own.

Joan would therefore have been taught how to balance these two contradictions, and whoever taught her obviously did their job well as, by all accounts of her life, she was seen as acting as the ideal female leader. She was never accused of intervening too much in politics, particularly for her own gain. She did, however, intervene on behalf of the poor and needy, and it is clear that she was an intelligent, deeply religious and extremely charming woman. There is not a single surviving criticism of her character, and the way that both of her future adoptive kingdoms embraced her, both personally and in her public life, shows that she must have been wonderfully congenial.

As the 1380s arrived, Charles began to look around for allies. The English now mistrusted him, the Castilians and French had taken much of his land, and he must have felt in danger of losing control of his territory altogether. A territory in a similar position to him was Brittany on the north-western coast of France. Brittany was an independent state like Navarre which owed fealty to the French Crown, but which also had strong ties across the Channel. The Dukes of Brittany held the Earldom of Richmond in England, and so it also owed allegiance to the Kings of England.5 The conflicts of the past few decades between the two countries thus put Brittany in a difficult position.

In 1381, the Duke of Brittany, John IV, had also been bullied by the French so that he was made to swear that he would oppose the English and Navarrese in their attempts to claim land in France. However, within a few years John IV was once again conducting multiple diplomatic missions between England, France, and Navarre.6 John was very similar to Charles in his attempts at maintaining power. Charles had large estates in Normandy, which neighboured Brittany, meaning the men would have had similar interests and concerns.

It therefore made sense to make a more formal alliance between Navarre and Brittany; both territories desired protection from the territorial expansions of the French and the English. Duke John IV’s second wife died in 1384, and so he was now open for another marriage. Meanwhile, Charles’ daughter Joan was approaching 15 years old and the perfect age to marry. Charles did have an older daughter, Marie, but as she was about 25 years old by this point, and John did not yet have any heirs, perhaps it was decided that a younger bride would be more suitable in order to give more time to provide children.

Letters were drawn up on 13 April 1385 agreeing to the marriage, but the confirmation process was slow. It was agreed that Navarre would provide 120,000 francs for the alliance, but there were problems raising the money which slowed the process. By the summer of 1386, preparations were sufficient for Joan to begin her journey to her new husband and kingdom.7 On 20 June, a party of John’s men left Le Croisic in Brittany to collect her. Four vessels carried horses, men-at- arms, squires, crossbowmen, pages and sailors, totalling at least 156 men. Members of the duke’s household were also on board, to aid Joan’s comfort and give her any information she might require for her new life. This included Robert Brochereul, who had acted as one of the chief negotiators of the marriage. Brochereul had been given a generous reward of 500 Aragonese florins per year from Joan’s father for his role in proceedings.

Special quarters were built for Joan on one of the boats, possibly showing that the vessels were not necessarily the most luxurious or expensive of the duke’s ships – or perhaps he did not have any of a high enough standard. However, John did employ seven carpenters for twenty-four days to build Joan’s quarters, suggesting he did care that his new wife was to have as comfortable a journey as possible. Her quarters were located on the deck, and it seems she was given extra privacy in her room as a frame was constructed upon which a cloth was hung. Although these preparations had been made, it evidently was not enough, as furniture and more pieces of wood were bought when the ships landed in Pamplona, Navarre.

As the round trip was to take over two months, significant food provisions were gathered for the first leg. Beef, salted pork or bacon, and dried fish were the principal meats consumed, while spices, condiments, cheeses, 60 livres of butter, 6 livres of almonds, and 12 livres of rice were also bought. Pewter utensils, plates, bowls and saucers were procured for the more esteemed members of the entourage, while sixty wooden and clay bowls were stored for the crew’s use. Large quantities of candles, lanterns and coal were also taken on board to provide lighting during the night.

The entourage was to sail to San Sebastián in Navarre, then travel inland to Pamplona where it would meet dignitaries of the country, finish negotiating the particulars of the alliance, and prepare suitable gifts. Next, they were to bring Joan to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, part of the northernmost territory of Navarre, then on to the port of Bayonne where the party would sail back to Brittany. Messengers were also dispatched to travel by land to send messages to both the King of Navarre and Jean IV.

The Breton party landed in San Sebastián on 30 June, then travelled down the Adour Estuary to the port of Bayonne between 10 and 12 July. There, the ships were to wait for six weeks. At the end of August, news finally reached Bayonne that Princess Joan was to arrive any day. She entered Bayonne on 25 August, and two days later a group of Navarrese delegates, including her brother Charles, inspected the ships.

On 2 September, Abbot Pierre Godiele, who was Charles II’s secretary, celebrated a marriage by proxy in Bayonne Cathedral in the presence of Charles’ son and representatives of John IV. This was a common method used by members of the nobility and royalty and acted as a way to tie a couple closely together when one or both members were absent, prior to being able to confirm the marriage together in person.

By 4 September, the party was ready to set sail for the final leg of the journey to Joan’s new home in Brittany. The crew on board the ships appear to have been very cramped, particularly as horses were brought back on the return journey. These most likely belonged to Joan in order to pull her carriage. But even with these conditions on board the ship, it must be assumed that Joan was given the most space. Within a week, the entourage had returned to Le Croisic, around two and a half months after leaving. On 11 September 1386, at the manor of Saillé on the outskirts of Brittany, Joan, Princess of Navarre, and John IV, Duke of Brittany, had their wedding ceremony.

To 16-year-old Joan, Saillé – a town located in the heart of the salt marshes of Guérande – must certainly have felt like a strange place for her wedding. Their marriage in the local church was very simple, it being only a small chapel. Although Joan was a princess of a relatively small nation, she still would have expected a grander wedding than this, particularly when the wedding was sealing an important political alliance. Perhaps monetary constraints were an issue – after all, John’s faithful servant, Lesnerac, who had been in charge of payments for the trip, spent around 3,400 francs. Regardless, Joan was now the third wife of the duke, who was 47 years old, thirty-one years her senior.

If Charles had hoped that this new alliance with Brittany was to be fruitful for him and possibly even help him reclaim some of his lost lands, then he was sadly mistaken. Just a few months after Joan and John’s marriage, Charles II of Navarre died. By most accounts, it was a most grisly end; Froissart, who was writing within a couple of years of Charles’ death, recounts how the 54-year-old king was shivering with cold as he went to bed (after, Froissart enjoys telling us, he had spent a night with his mistress). He could not get warm, and ordered his bed heated with warm air as had been done many a time. This time, ‘either by the will of God or the devil, it turned out very unfortunate, for the flames somehow set fire to the sheets … and the king, who was wrapped up in them, horridly burnt as far as his navel’.

Charles lived for fifteen days in agony, with nothing that could be done to save him, and he thus died ‘in great pain and misery’.8 Other, often much later, accounts say that he had been wrapped from head to toe in alcohol-soaked bandages to help alleviate some of his ailments, and a careless maid accidentally set fire to him with a candle she was holding.

His death was universally viewed as a moral story – a horrific end to a horrific man. Whether this was quite how his life ended, or if it was an embellishment by chroniclers who often took the opportunity to give moral lessons, is unknown. Considering the proximity of Froissart’s writing to Charles’ death, it does seem likely that this was indeed how the King of Navarre met his end.

It is not known how Joan reacted to the sudden news of her father’s death so soon after her departure, especially as there is no evidence about how close or distant they may have been. Even if they were distant, however, the potential news that her father had been burnt alive in his bed could not have been pleasant, and would have left her with one less ally in a foreign land.

However, Joan turned out to be the perfect bride for John as it did not take long for her to fulfil her wifely duty and provide children. Her first was born in August 1387, a daughter or possibly even twin daughters. It is suggested, but unclear whether true, that Joan had two daughters across 1387–88, leading some to believe they were twins, but records are not sufficient to solve the mystery. Many have expressed that John must have been greatly disappointed to have a daughter but, at the age of 47, he would indeed have been acutely aware of his lack of progeny. However, when John’s previous two wives had produced no children, the fact that his new bride had given birth to a live child in less than a year of marriage would have been an encouraging sign. Sadly, this daughter (or daughters) would be dead by December the following year, most likely from any number of prevalent childhood diseases, in what surely must have been a tragedy for the couple.

Nonetheless, on Christmas Eve 1389, at the Château de l’Hermine, Joan delivered a healthy baby boy, John. This was a triumph for the couple; providing the child survived, John would finally have a male heir to succeed him, and as the mother of a male heir, Joan would find her position as duchess more secure and enhanced. Many have argued that Joan’s future abundance of children – particularly sons – would have given her a greater influence at court.9 Indeed, there is evidence that Joan was not simply an ornamental bride and, if her actions in England later in life are anything to go by, she certainly wielded power at the Breton court. However, it must be remembered that across her time as duchess, Joan gave birth to nine children in ten years, and this almost constant state of pregnancy would have had a severe impact on her ability to be truly powerful. The birth of John, though, would have seemed like a Christmas miracle for the couple, and likely a sign of blessing on their union.

Château de l’Hermine was an obvious location for the ducal couple to be spending the Christmas season. John had only recently completed the castle, with it being built between 1380 and 1385 – John had chosen the location, as it was built into the ramparts of the city of Vannes who had been on John’s side during the War of the Breton Succession. John, with English help, had eventually won control of Brittany from his father’s cousin Joanna of Penthièvre and her husband Charles of Blois, making him duke in 1365. Since its completion, the château was John’s main residence and the centre of his government. It housed stables, large kitchens, sports courts and various accounting and currency buildings.

The château was also the site of political dissent within the kingdom. Two years previously, in 1387, John had invited Olivier de Clisson, a powerful Breton lord and commander-in-chief of the French army, to the castle, ostensibly to view the newly completed building.10 John and Clisson had a fraught relationship, particularly because Clisson had betrothed his daughter to the son of Charles de Blois and Joanna of Penthièvre, John’s old enemies. When Clisson arrived at the castle at the end of June he was seized and imprisoned. John had ordered Clisson’s death by being thrown into the nearby river in a sealed bag, but his weapons master did not carry out the act. Eventually, Clisson was released after paying a huge ransom. As Joan gave birth to her first child within two months of the event, one has to wonder whether she was at the château when his arrest and attempted murder was carried out, and what she made of it. One can hardly imagine she approved of such actions.

John’s ruthlessness and rashness seems to have been a recurring theme in Breton politics, and one story at least gives us a suggestion that Joan may have been a calming influence on him. A few years later, in 1391, John was incensed by some French ambassadors at his court and threatened to arrest them. This obviously went against generally accepted treatment of ambassadors at the time, and could have led to a dangerous situation with the French Crown. The Chronicler of Saint Denys recounted what happened next.11 He said that Joan’s brother Pierre de Navarre was at the court and begged her to intervene and save the situation.

The story goes that Joan, who was heavily pregnant (presumably with her fifth child, Marguerite), took her son John and her young baby Marie, who had been born in February that year, into her arms. In her dishevelled nightgown and loose hair, she burst into John’s chambers that night. There she flung herself to her knees and begged him to think of his actions, as it would not only be a felony against his king, but he should remember that the French Crown might protect his children after his death.

In all likelihood, this is a fabricated or exaggerated event. One cannot help but see the similarities between this description and one of Queen Philippa of England in 1347. In Froissart’s Chronicle, he recounts that when Edward III ordered the execution of six burgesses of Calais after it had been conquered by the English, his heavily pregnant wife, Queen Philippa, threw herself at his feet, begging for his mercy on behalf of the burghers.12 In medieval society, one of the greatest sources of power for female leaders was their ability to produce children for their husbands. It was an often-used emotive tool to show the vulnerable, emotional queen carrying a child and laying herself at the feet of her angry husband and thus placating him. In fact, many male leaders used this rhetoric purposefully to allow themselves to be seen as merciful without seeming weak – instead of being a feeble leader who does not act on the bad behaviour of others, he is instead a righteous leader who allows his wife to temper his policies. Queens were often expected to fulfil the role of tempering a king’s policies, and so stories like these were acceptable rhetoric to medieval ears.

In that light, it is unlikely that the event happened in quite as dramatic a fashion as the Chronicler of Saint Denys described – but that does not mean that Joan had nothing to do with calming John down. Indeed, Joan, throughout her life, seems to have held a level head in difficult situations. John certainly seems to have been more extreme in his policies, perhaps owing to his insecurity as duke after fighting for so long for his territory. Joan almost certainly changed his mind with regards to the French ambassador, particularly as her words in the chronicle ring true.

By this time, John was in his fifties, whereas Joan was still only 21 years old with several young children. The possibility of his death would likely have been on her mind. Joan’s ties to the French royal family and the desire of the French Crown to control events in Brittany would certainly mean that, in the event of John’s untimely death, they would intervene in affairs, particularly in order to prevent English interference in the territory. There are indications that Joan was an intelligent woman, and she must surely have these thoughts in her mind when John was making his threats. She would also be aware of how unwise it would be to encourage the French Crown to send in an army to invade Brittany when it was currently enjoying great independence from its overlords.

Whether the incident happened or not, the very fact that the story was circulating shows that Joan must have held some influence in government and was being seen as an ideal duchess. She was fulfilling her role as mother and intercessor, but was not acting for power but in the interests of her children. Whether intentional or not, Joan had certainly cultivated a successful image of a female ruler in her adopted kingdom. For the next few years little more is heard of Joan, but she continued to provide John with children: three more sons, Arthur (1393), Gilles (1394) and Richard (1395), and one more daughter, Blanche (1397). In 1396, however, a potentially life-changing meeting occurred.

At the end of October 1396, the English King Richard II was due to marry Isabella of Valois, daughter of Charles VI of France, in order to bring peace between the two kingdoms. As a result, there were huge celebrations at the French royal court, followed by a formal wedding in Calais at the end of the month. Many nobles of the English court travelled across the Channel for the occasion, including numerous members of the royal family. One such man was Henry Bolingbroke, the king’s cousin. Henry’s father was John of Gaunt, who was himself the third son of King Edward III. Richard II generally appreciated the advice and loyalty of his uncle John, and was happy for him to take an active role in government. However, he seems to have greatly despised his cousin Henry, and this would eventually lead to his downfall.

In the meantime, however, Henry was part of the royal wedding festivities as a Prince of England, and during this stay in France he travelled to Saint-Omer in the north, along with various members of the English royal family. While there, they were met with notable French nobility, including Joan of Navarre and John of Brittany. A magnificent banquet was held, and it is tempting to suggest that Joan and Henry held conversations together. Joan and Henry were third cousins, but it is unlikely that they had had any contact before this point. Henry would later become Joan’s husband, but at this point Joan was possibly already pregnant with her ninth child, and although John was in his fifties, he was displaying no sign of ill health. As such, it is unlikely that Joan was casting her eyes around the feast; yet, the swiftness of marriage arrangements between the couple after John’s death do suggest that the pair may well have hit it off at this meeting in Saint-Omer.

Whether Henry and Joan continued contact after this initial meeting is unclear, but Joan missed a chance to see him again in the near future. In April 1398, Joan and John travelled across the Channel to attend the Garter Feast at Windsor Castle. John had been invested as a Knight of the Order of the Garter by Edward III between 1375 and 1376 – the only Duke of Brittany to have attained this English honour.13 As such, he was entitled to attend the Garter Feast. It does not appear that he was a regular attendee, but certainly, for whatever reason, he and Joan made the journey this particular year.

If Joan had been hoping to see Henry again at this feast, then she was to be sorely disappointed. In January, Henry had quarrelled with the Duke of Norfolk, and Richard took this opportunity to remove his disliked cousin. Richard, with the approval of Henry’s father, John of Gaunt, banished both Norfolk and Henry from the kingdom for ten years. Henry was forced to settle up his affairs, make provisions for his six children, and head for France. He spent the next eight months at the Hôtel de Clisson in Paris.14

The following year was to be life changing for both Joan and Henry. On 1 November 1399, John IV, Duke of Brittany, died aged 59 in Nantes of unknown causes. Joan was now a widow with a brood of young children and, more importantly, was now regent of Brittany as her eldest son, now Duke John V, was only 10 years old. This once again shows the esteem and trust that the territory must have held Joan in, for, although it was not unusual for mothers to act as regent for their sons, often a male relative would be sought to help keep affairs in order.

In the meantime, Henry’s life had changed when his father, John of Gaunt, was taken ill at the start of the year. In February John died, meaning that Henry was never able to be reunited with him. It also meant that his cousin Richard II took advantage of the absence of such a powerful presence to get his revenge on Henry. He denied Henry his right to inherit his father’s lands, seizing them for himself. He then extended Henry’s exile from ten years to life.15 This was a gross insult to Henry’s position and legal rights, and so he organised a meeting with the exiled former Archbishop of Canterbury who had also suffered at Richard’s hands. Together, Henry and the archbishop returned to England and began a military campaign. The rest, as they say, is history. Richard was unpopular in England and had alienated much of the nobility, so many swiftly put their support behind Henry. It was not long before Richard was imprisoned, and he died in January the following year. It is widely suspected that Richard died of starvation, but whether this was through his own choosing or that of his captors is unknown. Henry was declared King Henry IV of England and his coronation was at Westminster Abbey on 13 October 1399.

Henry became king just a few weeks before John IV’s death, and it was not long before he and Joan made contact with each other. On 15 February the following year, Joan composed a letter to Henry.16 It was full of pleasantries that would be above and beyond the formalities of the time. It was common for people writing letters to each other to express their love and loyalty, but the amount that Joan writes in her letter certainly suggests that this is beyond mere convention. She told Henry, ‘Whenever I am able to hear a good account of you it rejoices my heart most exceedingly’, and then assures him that she and her children are in good health. She asked Henry if there was anything in Brittany that she could do for him, as she would do it ‘with a very good heart’. Intriguingly, she mentioned that one of her ladies, Johanna of Bavalen, was coming to see Henry, possibly to deliver this letter in person, or else this letter was to inform him of her journey. Joan explained that Johanna was going to have a ‘matter’ to transact. She ended the letter praying that the Holy Spirit would have Henry in His holy keeping.

Joan’s reference to the Holy Spirit shows that she was a believer in the Trinity, and alongside her many references to God in her letter, demonstrates that she was a deeply religious Catholic. Her mention of Johanna’s visit certainly provides a mystery, as the details of Johanna’s mission have never become clear. It seems very likely, especially considering the language of the letter, that Johanna was sent to gauge Henry’s thoughts and feelings of a marriage between the pair. If the mission was a political one, then Joan would have sent a male representative of her government or an ambassador. To send a female member of her court suggests that the journey was a far more personal one, and that Johanna was a woman very close to Joan whom she trusted with such a secret and sensitive mission. Joan’s husband had only died four months previously, and so if she was indeed already considering marrying the handsome Englishman who was now king, it would have been politically unwise to announce these intentions so soon after his death.

If marriage was the mission, then Johanna’s testing of the waters was certainly a success. On 11 May 1401, a curious payment was listed in the Issues of the Exchequer giving 1s 8d to ‘a certain woman, prosecuting certain affairs for the King, concerning which, as is asserted, great profit and advantage would arise to the Lord the King’.17 It is impossible to know the identity of this woman, or what her business was, but considering the events of the next two years it seems more than likely that this was Johanna or another female servant of Joan’s entering negotiations with Henry for a marriage. In December the same year, another payment shows Henry sending messengers to Brittany.18 This is the first concrete evidence that Henry was engaging in negotiations with Joan. By spring of 1402, rumours were spreading at court that Henry IV of England was planning on marrying Joan of Navarre, Duchess and Regent of Brittany. The proverbial cat was out of the bag.

3

OUR MOST DEAR MOTHER

HENRY AND JOAN appear to have been keen to get married as quickly as possible. In March 1402, a papal dispensation from the Avignon Pope arrived allowing Joan to marry whoever she wanted to within the fourth degree of consanguinity (being descended from the same ancestor).1 This was necessary as Joan and Henry were third cousins through their mutual descent from Philip IV of France. By 3 April, Joan’s trusty servant Antony Riczi had arrived in England, and he took part in a proxy marriage with Henry IV on her behalf.