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Margaret Beaufort married John of Gaunt….!

 

wood carving of Sir Christopher Urswick in Urswick School’s musuem

I always thought Starkey was a waspish prig (his public opinion of those who support Richard III is just as derogatory!) but having read this article, I think he’s slap-dash as well. Certainly he can’t be checking what goes out to herald the latest of his lectures – this one will no doubt manage to be another anti-Richard diatribe. It’s based around Christopher Urswick, and here’s a quote from the above link:-

“Born in Furness, Cumbria, in 1448 Christopher Urswick had a remarkable life….He was a priest but and [sic] became a confessor of Margaret Beaufort. She had married King Edward III’s son, John of Gaunt, when she was just 13. Not long after she gave birth to his child, Henry, she was widowed.”

I had no idea that Margaret and her son were that old…or that such an extra skeleton lurked in their capacious cupboard. Henry VII would have been cock-a-hoop to claim Gaunt as his father! But I wonder if Gaunt was aware of this extra wife and son?

Were the Houses of York and Lancaster true Plantagenets or not….?

This illustration is from the history of Liverpool
(don’t bother, it’s traditionalist fare masquerading as funny-ha-ha).

When reading the Yorkshire post I came upon the following sentence: “It’s thought that the white rose was adopted as a symbol in the 14th century, when it was introduced by Edmund of Langley, the first Duke of York and founder of the House of York, a dynasty related to the Plantagenet kings.”

Related to the Plantagenet kings? Well, yes, they were all related, but the implication seems to be that they weren’t Plantagenets themselves. As far as I’m concerned, the House of York was Plantagenet, as was the House of Lancaster. They were two parts of the House of Plantagenet, fighting each other.

But there is a school of thought that considers the true House of Plantagenet to have ended with the death of Richard II, who was, of course, the last king of the senior line of descent. He was the only surviving son of the Black Prince, who was himself the senior son and heir of Edward III, who was in turn the senior son of Edward II, etc. etc. It begins to sound like the Bible, with all the “begats”.

Coronation of the boy king, Richard II, from Chroniques de France ou de St Denis. End of 14th century

The Black Prince pre-deceased his father, and his brothers startled jostling for control of Richard, who was only a boy at that time. When Richard was married to Anne of Bohemia it was expected that he would produce an heir, thus continuing the senior line. But he and Anne were childless, Cue more jostling from the increasingly ambitious uncles. Especially John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who out-ambitioned the lot of them. Because he married the elder daughter of the King of Castile, Gaunt thought he had a right to the throne of that land, and demanded that he be addressed as “My Lord of Castile”. Gaunt also wanted the English succession to go to him and his line, should Richard die without issue, and he is believed to have persuaded/cajoled/forced the senile, failing old Edward III into agreeing to an entail that would ensure this. It is also believed that in due course Richard II disposed of this entail.

John of Gaunt receiving a letter from the King of Portugal – Chronique d’ Angleterre (Volume III) (late 15th C), f.236r – BL Royal MS 14 E IV.png

Then Anne of Bohemia died, and instead of taking another wife of a suitable age to have children, Richard married a little girl, Isabella of France. Not a wise move, because it would be years before she’d be considered old enough to consummate the marriage. Richard put peace with France above his own succession.

Richard II, Isabella, and King Charles VI of France, Isabella’s father. Richard was 22 to Isabella’s mere 6 years. The marriage was political.

Richard’s rule was not popular among the nobility, and when Lancaster died, his son Henry Bolingbroke became duke. Well, Richard and Henry had never got on, in fact they loathed the sight of each other (or so it seems to me, even though they were thrown together as boys) and Richard banished Henry into exile (a long story). Richard then confiscated the entire Lancaster inheritance, which was yet another very unwise move, because Henry came back with an army. He caught Richard (whose next exceedingly unwise move had been to go off to Ireland with all his friends – he specialised in being unwise) on the hop, and disposed of him. Henry then usurped the throne as Henry IV. Thus the House of Lancaster took the crown.

I can’t imagine the scene was quite like this, or that Richard II was willing, maybe even eager, to be rid of the crown that was his birthright.

Henry IV’s coronation sealed the moment the Plantagenets split, but they all remained Plantagenets. There were plenty of people in England who didn’t believe Henry, descended from Edward III’s third son, had any right to the throne, because there were descendants (the Mortimer Earls of March) from Edward III’s second son, Lionel of Clarence. Lionel had passed away some time before, leaving a daughter. The Mortimers would eventually be blood descendants of Edward III’s fourth son, Edmund of Langley, 1st Duke of York. Therefore the 5th Earl of March, who was a mere child, was deemed to have a stronger claim than Henry IV, who had usurped Richard II’s throne and probably seen to that unhappy king’s murder, and was only descended from Edward III’s third son, John of Gaunt. But slick Henry could easily see off an opponent who was less than ten years old!

And so the rebellious rumbles began and did not go away. They were still around when the House of Tudor eventually held the throne.

But did this dichotomy in the Plantagenet family make Henry IV any less of a Plantagenet than Richard II had been? I think not. They were both grandsons of Edward III as well as being first cousins, I cannot see that Henry suddenly ceased to be a Plantagenet and became solely a Lancastrian. The bloodline remained the same, the difference being that Henry was from Edward III’s third son, whereas Richard had been from the second and senior line.

Then, in due course, Henry IV died and his son Henry V came and went, until his grandson, Henry VI, a mere baby, ascended the throne. Henry VI reigned a long time, but was a disastrous king, far too weak and impressionable to rule England. He drifted in an out of mental illness, eventually requiring a Protector to be appointed to safeguard the realm. Along came the 3rd Duke of York, who was directly descended from the fourth son of Edward III, but also from the second son, Lionel, Duke of Clarence, through Lionel’s only child, a daughter. It was from her marriage to a Mortimer that in many eyes made the then Earl of March the rightful king when Henry IV usurped the throne. A subsequent marital union between York and March thus gave the 3rd Duke of York a very strong case indeed.

York felt (rightly in my opinion) that he had a better claim to the throne than Henry VI, but his ambitions were thwarted by the convenient (after years of barren marriage to Margaret of Anjou) arrival of Henry VI’s son. It was widely believed that Henry (who had been mentally ill at the time of the child’s conception) was in reality made a cuckold by his wife’s affair with Edmund Beaufort, 2nd Duke of Somerset. Somerset was also descended from John of Gaunt, albeit through an originally illegitimate line, the Beauforts. Perhaps he and Queen Margaret decided he was close enough in blood for it to be OK? Who knows. Perhaps it was just passion.

Killed at the Battle of Tewkesbury, aged 17

York therefore encountered effective opposition from Margaret, Somerset and others at the Lancastrian court, even though he was better qualified for the crown. Thus he rebelled, and the so-called Wars of the Roses began. You either supported York, or Lancaster, or kept your head down and hoped to survive unnoticed.

The above paragraphs illustrate the very basics of what prompted the Wars of the Roses: the white rose for York and the red rose for Lancaster. We had three Lancastrian kings, then two (three if you count Edward V) Yorkist kings in Edward IV and Richard III.

Henry VII receives Richard III’s Crown from the traitorous Stanley

Then came Bosworth, in which Richard III was cruelly betrayed by the Stanleys, who turned traitor mid-battle to support Richard’s opponent, Henry Tudor (Henry VII), whose actual blood claim to the crown of England was dodgy to say the least. Little more than right of conquest. His descent came through the Beauforts, who were the result of John of Gaunt’s extra-marital affair with Katherine Swynford and thus baseborn. Well, Gaunt managed to persuade Richard II to legitimize them, but when their half-brother Henry IV swiped the throne from Richard, he made sure to exclude the Beauforts from any claim to the throne. The line of succession would descend through his offspring, not his half-blood siblings.

This made Henry VII a mere Beaufort through his mother Margaret Beaufort, whose father was John Beaufort, 1st Duke of Somerset, the eldest of Gaunt’s Beaufort brood. But, it is thought Henry VII was probably also a Beaufort on his father’s side. There had been an affair between Henry V’s widow, Catherine of Valois (who died today in 1437), and the self-same Edmund Beaufort (third son of John Beaufort, 1st Duke of Somerset) who was thought to have fathered Henry VI’s son and heir! Edmund was a busy boy between the sheets. I know that posterity has Owen Tudor as Catherine’s only love after the death of Henry V, but Edmund Beaufort is far more likely, as Harriss and Ashdown-Hill , inter alia, both said. It was also thought so at the time, and hasty moves were made in Parliament to regulate remarriages for queens of England. And Catherine’s first son, supposedly by Owen Tudor, was named Edmund. A coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.

from http://www.ssqq.com/travel/london2017history04.htm
Katherine of Valois and Owen Tudor – maybe she was already with child by Edmund Beaufort, 2nd Duke of Somerset? Was Owen a convenient reputation-saver? Or was it a true lovematch, and the Beaufort story a fabrication?

Let’s face it, Henry VII’s probable total descent through the Beauforts wasn’t much to brag about when it came to parking his behind on the throne with any real authority. He was not a Plantagenet, and that particular parking lot was not built on solid, unchallengeable ground. So he married Elizabeth of York, eldest daughter of Edward IV, who was a Plantagenet, and thus managed to make himself more secure on the throne by “uniting” the two warring Plantagenet houses. Not entirely secure, for there were pretenders throughout his reign, but he survived, dropped the pretence of being a Beaufort/Lancastrian, and instead set up the House of Tudor, which gave us a truly charming sequence of monarchs, I think you’ll agree. The only one worth her salt was Elizabeth.

So there you have my version of the bare bones of English Plantagenet history from Richard II to Richard III. To my mind, all the kings (between and including those two) were Plantagenets. They didn’t cease to be Plantagenet and suddenly morph into York or Lancaster. They all claimed direct descent through the many sons of Edward III, and thus to all the Plantagenet and Angevin Kings of England who’d gone before.

Is my reasoning correct? Or do you disagree? Please feel free to comment. To help you sort out all these different monarchs, here is a tree from https://www.britroyals.com/plantagenettree.asp.

 

Was there another reason why Margaret Beaufort had only one child….?

No, this post is NOT about Game of Thrones, but has been provoked by an article that, in general, is indeed about the goings-on of the above TV drama. This article attracted my attention because of the third of the quoted paragraphs below. But it is advisable to read all the quotes, for the background information.

“….Before the Middle Ages, abortions were allowed because they weren’t really considered abortions. From a medieval perspective, without a soul there was no human life, and souls weren’t understood to develop until sometime between four and 17 weeks.

“Because of this, women held quite a lot of control over their early pregnancies. We might note how this attitude accommodated the high rate of miscarriage in the first trimester, especially before modern nutrition and medicine. A lot can go wrong all on its own in those early weeks, and medieval midwifery and medical science left it to a woman and her advisers to decide how she wanted to handle that risky time. An abortion after the period in which souls were considered to develop was considered sinful, and might or might not be criminal, depending on where one lived, though prosecutions in the Middle Ages were rare.

“We may see the result of such family planning in the life of a famous medieval queen mother, Margaret Beaufort. Married and cohabiting at an unusually young age for an Englishwoman, Beaufort bore the future King Henry VII when she was just 13 and the delivery nearly killed her. Often widowed, Beaufort married twice more but never had another child. It is entirely possible that she sustained such significant injuries and scarring during her first delivery that she was unable to conceive or carry to term again. But it is equally possible that she or her medical advisers were convinced that it was harmful for her to try to carry another child to term, and so took precautions to ensure that she did not…”

Now you see why I have posted this. I have always accepted that Margaret Beaufort simply couldn’t conceive again. But what if she knew it would probably be fatal if she did? What if she took contraceptive action, such as it was in the 15th century?

Richard III And The Tudor Genealogy — RICARDIAN LOONS

It is generally acknowledged by historians that Henry Tudor, who defeated Richard III, the last Yorkist king, at Bosworth and went on to be crowned Henry VII, wasn’t the Lancastrian heir to the throne of England he claimed to be. His mother, Margaret Beaufort, was descended from John of Gaunt, the third surviving son of […]

via Richard III And The Tudor Genealogy — RICARDIAN LOONS

Where did the Tudors come from….?

HENRY AND MODEL OF OLD LONDON BRIDGE

For those of us who may wish to know where the name Tudor comes from, here’s a thorough explanation.

 

The Earl of Lincoln’s children and marriages. . . .?

John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln

Am I alone in always having imagined that John de la Pole’s wife, Margaret Fitzalan, Countess of Lincoln, was a woman of childbearing age? Somehow I just took it as read, and thus that their apparent lack of heirs was a nasty trick of nature.

Chance caused me to check for more information about this daughter of Thomas Fitzalan, 12th/17th Earl of Arundel and his wife Margaret Woodville.

Given Lincoln’s staunch support of Richard III, I can’t help wondering how he felt about his wife’s strong Woodville connection. Oh, he probably didn’t care. After all, the prolific Woodvilles had managed to marry into half the noble families in the realm. In fact, we don’t know anything at all about Lincoln’s attitude to his marriage or his wife. He is Sir Enigmatic de la Pole when it comes to that.

Was Margaret’s ring something like this 13th    century example?

What we know of Margaret is that her father bequeathed her a ‘great ring with a turquoise’, and that she died in 1493, apparently never having remarried. (Horrox in ODNB states that Margaret lived until 1524.) We also know, or it seems generally accepted, that she was born in 1475. Now then, if this last point is true, then she was still only 10 at the time of Bosworth, and 12 when Lincoln was killed at Stoke Field. Suddenly the barrenness of the marriage takes on a different hue. There were no children because the bride was too young to consummate the match, and her husband died before she was the accepted age for such to take place.

Now we come to the myths. Well, fake news, as the present saying goes. Maybe they’re not as important as the untruths attached to Richard III, but certainly they’re the sort of thing that worm their way into history as fact.

I will begin with the son that Lincoln and Margaret are supposed to have had, but who died very young. His name was Edward de la Pole, we’re told. Well, even if he had been born posthumously, I still cannot accept that it could have happened. Was Lincoln no better than King John, Henry IV and Edmund Tudor? Did he bed his little bride before she was fully developed? No, I do not think so. Richard III wouldn’t have had any of that! Even if Lincoln himself was ready to do it, which I doubt very much indeed. In fact, I do not think Lincoln and his wife would have seen anything much of each other until her sexual majority, by which time Lincoln was dead at the age of 25 maximum, probably only 23. She would still have been at home with her Fitzalan family. Perhaps at Arundel Castle itself.

Arundel Castle

As for the suggested son, the only Edward de la Pole I can find was Lincoln’s brother, who became Archdeacon of Richmond. He lived 1466–1485, so was born nine years before Margaret Fitzalan. A non-starter. He was Lincoln’s sibling, not offspring.

All of which makes the suggestion of Lincoln and Margaret having a daughter as well even less likely. The daughter was (we are told) another Margaret, who went on to marry Sir John Hardy, Senior, and had a son, John Hardy, Junior, who became Mayor of London. https://www.geni.com/people/Sir-John-Hardy-Jr-Lord-Mayor-of-London/6000000001444501215  I can’t say this site is gospel, of course. Anyway, this new Margaret is identified as the daughter of Lincoln and Margaret Fitzalan, and was (wait for it!) born in 1490. Really? Well, she might have been Margaret’s, because Margaret could indeed have lived on until 1524. But a child born in 1490 could not have been Lincoln’s because he definitely died in 1487.

Golafre

Another curiosity that has crept into the records is that Lincoln himself married twice, his second bride being the daughter and heir of Sir John Golafre. Again, it’s impossible. Lincoln’s first wife lived for at least six years after his demise, so how he managed to take a second bride I do not know. There’s no record of an annulment or any such thing (that I can find), nor can I trace this new bride’s Christian name, or which Sir John Golafre it could possibly be, as the last one appears to have died in 1442! This would make any daughter of his a little too old to marry Lincoln and present him with children. She would have been at least 43 in 1485, and in those days surely coming to the end of her childbearing days.

This Sir John Golafre married a few times. One wife was Margaret, the daughter of Sir John Heveningham, and widow of Sir Walter de la Pole of Dernford in Sawston, Cambs. Another was Elizabeth Bruyn, the widowed cousin of Michael de la Pole, 2nd Earl of Suffolk. So there are definitely connections between the de la Poles and Golafres, but not with our Earl of Lincoln.

St Mary the Virgin Church, Iffley, Oxfordshire, 15th-century stained glass of the arms of John de la Pole, 2nd Duke of Suffolk (1442–1491/2), KG.

All of which makes me wonder and regret that Lincoln married Margaret. He was the son and heir of the 2nd Duke of Suffolk and Elizabeth of York (Richard’s sister), and most probably Richard’s intended heir as well, but with such a young bride, it was impossible for him to father legitimate children until she was old enough. We don’t know exactly when the marriage took place, but he was always heir to the dukedom of Suffolk, if not of Richard. Oh well, these political matches are a tangle, and presumably it was very advantageous indeed for Lincoln to be united with a daughter of the Earl of Arundel.

Whatever the reason/s, it resulted in Lincoln, like Richard himself, dying without legitimate issue.

Aha, but did it? Maybe all the above is wrong. There is an interesting article about Lincoln in Volume XIII (2003) of The Ricardian. It is by Wendy Moorhen, and considers the earl’s life and career in general, but also his marriage.  She states that Margaret Fitzalan was indeed his wife, but makes no mention of Margaret’s youthfulness. She too mentions the great ring with a turquoise, which her father bequeathed to his daughter, Lady Lincoln, in 1524.

The thing of particular significance to me, with regard to my present article, is a suggestion that Lincoln’s youngest brother, Richard de la Pole, was in fact his son. The concealing of this fact was due, it is suggested to protect an infant or posthumous son of an attainted traitor. It would seem that Richard’s career tends to give credence to this tale. It would also raise the question about the mysterious son Edward, some sources claim was born to Lincoln and Margaret, but who died young. Perhaps he didn’t die at all, but merely had his name changed.

He was born in 1480, as far as I can discover, which means when Lincoln himself was somewhere between 14 and 16, depending on whether his year of birth was 1462 or 1464. This means that Margaret Fitzalan was only around five – totally ridiculous, of course. So if Richard de la Pole was Lincoln’s son, he was surely born on the wrong side of the blanket.

Portrait believed to be Richard de la Pole, although the emblem on his hat is the 14th century White Hart of Richard II

Yet Richard was to lay claim to the dukedom of Suffolk, become known as the White Rose, and be fêted by Louis XII as the king of England. This, in spite of older brothers still alive. This could be explained if he was indeed Lincoln’s son, and therefore of the senior line. But if he was illegitimate. . .? The French would enjoy mischief-making, of course, yet there was a very strong suggestion about Richard de la Pole’s true lineage being through the Earl of Lincoln, and therefore one generation removed from the 2nd Duke of Suffolk,.

But there is cause to wonder if Margaret Fitzalan wasn’t a  mere five but 14 in 1480, when Richard de la Pole was born. It is possible. The 17th Earl of Arundel’s marriage to Margaret Woodville took place “shortly before 17th February 1466″, which means that the earliest a child could have been born to them was around November of that year. The earl’s successor, the 18th earl, was born in 1476. Apart from him and Margaret Fitzalan, there were another brother and sister, Edward and Joan, whose dates of birth I have not been able to ascertain. If Margaret was that first child, born around November 1466, she would of course, have been old enough to consummate her marriage to Lincoln, and bear him children. But the earlier date of 1475 seems fairly fixed in place for her.

Had she been 21 or so at the time of Lincoln’s death at East Stoke, everything would change of course. She might indeed have given birth to Richard de la Pole, who would thus be legitimate. There are so many mysteries surrounding the enigmatic Earl of Lincoln, who has left a tantalisingly brief trail through his short period of history. Brief, but filled with intriguing questions about his marriage and possible offspring.

Heading for a new record?

This is Richard Dunne, the player who has scored the most top flight own goals (ten in twenty seasons) since the beginning of the Premier League.

“David” is already challenging that total in a shorter time frame. Here are some of his career highlights:
1) Claiming that “Perkin” confessed his imposture to a Scottish Bishop, many years before that cleric was born.
2) Claiming that Henry VII was a senior Lancastrian, when he was junior to Richard III in that respect, being descended from a younger sister of Richard’s ancestress.
3) Claiming that the “Lincoln Roll” detailed Edward IV’s sons to have died as children, when it didn’t.
4) Claiming that Edward V and his siblings were legitimate because secret marriages were automatically illegal, except that his parents also “married” in secret. This part of the Fourth Lateran Council’s findings was frequently ignored – thankyou to Esther for locating it.
5) Claiming that Henry VII was Earl of Richmond from 1471-85, when the Complete Peerage shows him to have been under attainder.
6) Claiming that Catherine de Valois spoke in Parliament about her “marriage” to Owain Tudor after her death and centuries before any woman addressed an English or British Parliament.
7) Claimed that Henry VII’s supposed descent from Owain Glyn Dwr’s servant was as valid as Richard III’s descent from Llewellyn Fawr.
8) Claimed that “Perkin” directly accused Richard III of killing Edward V, whilst the transcript shows that he did not and had many uncles.

9) Claiming that Henry VI arranged Margaret Beaufort’s 1455 marriage to Edmund “Tudor” because there was no Lancastrian heir, even though his own apparent son had been born two whole years earlier.
10) Claiming that the “Lincoln Roll” was compiled for the eponymous Earl, who died in 1487, yet it frequently mentions much later dates.

While we are at it, we hereby confirm that we did not invent “David” to make counter-productive Aunt Sally comments. Does his Tardis need a service?

 

Is Dan Jones beginning to understand …

Edmund “Beaufort”, Duke of Somerset

what is really likely to have happened in the fifteenth century (as Harriss, Ashdown-Hill and Fields strongly suspect)?

At this rate, he will soon learn the fact of the pre-contract and how canon law works.

Where to find that “Tudor” Y-chromosome?

This very good blog post details the career and planned future of Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, who might have succeeded Henry VIII had he not died suddenly at seventeen and a legitimate half-brother been born a year and a quarterlater. It also states his original and current burial places, the latter being St. Michael’s Church, Framlingham, together with his wife, Lady Mary Howard

framlingham

Henry Fitzroy, whose mother was Elizabeth Blount, is one of the few adults in the disputed male line from Katherine de Valois’ widowhood. Her sons from this relationship(/s) were Edmund and Jasper, surnamed either Beaufort or Tudor, the second dying without issue in 1495. Edmund had only one son, later Henry VII. He had several sons – some died in infancy and Arthur as a teenager without issue in 1502, leaving Henry VIII. Henry Fitzroy and Edward VI were Henry VIII’s only sons not to die in infancy. That leaves seven men, five of whom are guaranteed to share a Y-chromosome, plus Fitzroy and Jasper, just in case their mothers’ private lives were even more complicated.

We also know precisely where to find Owain, the last proven Tudor – somewhere within the pre-Reformation bounds of Hereford Cathedral. So the evidence to test John Ashdown-Hill’s theory is definitely at hand.

The other point to remember is that the earldom of Richmond was under attainder from 1471-85, so the future Henry VII did not hold it until he “unattainted” himself after Bosworth.

Was Roland de Velville the son of Henry VII….?

henry-vii-london-bridge

The following article is necessarily filled with supposition, inference and sneaking suspicion. The result of smoke and mirrors, you ask? Well, I think it is all much more substantial than that, as I hope to explain in the coming paragraphs.

Today (25th June) in 1545, died a man by the name of Roland de Velville (or Vielleville, Veleville, Vieilleville, and other variations). He crops up at regular intervals in connection with the first Tudor king, Henry VII. Why? Because of a persistent whisper that Roland was Henry’s illegitimate son. Well, his son, but no one can really categorically state he was illegitimate. All that can be claimed is that he was born sometime during Henry’s exile in Brittany between 1471 and 1485, and that when he arrived in England he was soon rumoured to be Henry’s unacknowledged child, born any time from about 1472 on, when Henry himself was only fourteen or fifteen.

It needs to be mentioned here that medieval kings usually acknowledged any offspring fathered before their official royal marriages, so there would not appear to be any reason why Henry would not admit to Roland. (I can think of at least one very good reason, but will save that until the end of this article.)

Roland was a member of the Breton nobility, an écuyer or esquire who may have accompanied Henry on the invasion of 1485. It is not known whether or not the boy fought at Bosworth, but my guess would be that he was probably too young. However, in 1489 he was certainly old enough to be in Sir John Cheyne’s retinue for the Breton expedition commanded by Sir Robert Willoughby.

1489-brittany

 The comment has been made that Roland was an ‘almost obsessive’ jouster, and was closely involved with the king’s falcons. It seems probable that he accompanied Henry VII when he went hunting and hawking. He appears to have been tolerated by English aristocrats, who must have been aware that he was favoured by the king. If that were not the case, I doubt Roland would have come even close to tournaments and the like. Roland’s life style would have been expensive, but Henry supported him, granting occasional gifts and allowing him an income from the royal revenues. Roland held no official position, he was simply there, enjoying himself, participating in royal pastimes and generally floating along. As we would all like to, given the chance.

Conjecture about him must have been rife, but that was all it amounted to. Conjecture. Because no one was party to the facts, not even Roland himself. Or so I guess, because his character was such that I doubt he’d have held his tongue and been discreet. He appears to have been of an unruly temperament, headstrong, irksome, arrogant and inclined to indulge in slander. Not at all like his subtle father. Well, rumoured father.

battle-of-roncevaux-pass-large

Might Roland have been named after the great 11th-century hero, Roland of Roncevaux? (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roland) If Henry Tudor really was his father, it strikes me as very much in keeping with Henry’s grand ideas concerning his legendary ancestry. After all, did he not give the name Arthur to his first son by Elizabeth of York?

It was not until the reign of his “half-brother”, Henry VIII, that Roland received any real advancement. From Henry VII he had been given this and that in the way of minor money, and had been kept at royal expense, but there was nothing worthwhile. Except, of course, for being knighted at the Battle of Blackheath in June 1497. But he was still Breton, not English. It was to be 1512 before he received that acknowledgement.

 battle-of-blackheath-1497

Battle of Blackheath

 On the death of Henry VII on 21st April 1509, the new 17-year-old king Henry VIII did not exactly shower Roland with brotherly goodies. Within weeks (3rd July 1509) Roland was appointed Constable of Beaumaris Castle on the Isle of Anglesey, and was given, during pleasure, an annuity of £20. After twenty-five years or so of luxury at court, Roland was on his way to Wales pdq, as the jargon goes. Young Henry clearly did not want his awkward kinsman around. Tudor angst required being rid of anyone of dangerous royal blood, and Roland, if he was indeed a half-sibling, would almost certainly make Henry VIII twitchy. Send him away to the sticks, and if he became a problem, an accident might befall him. At least, that is how I interpret it. Especially, perhaps, as Roland was said to greatly resemble Henry.

 

Hmm, the above portrait of Henry VIII at eighteen (right) doesn’t look like the ogre we now know and, er, love. Indeed, he looks almost identical to his father at that age (above left). But while we know how Henry VII changed as he grew older, remaining lean and almost gaunt, it has to be said that Henry VIII changed a whole lot more, becoming the odious, gross King Hal who was so obsessed with producing male heirs that he was prepared to get through six wives in the process. Did Roland change in the same way? Not the six wives part, of course, but might the Constable of Beaumaris Castle become as awful and bloated as his half-brother the king?

This latter point raises an interesting question. Let us imagine that Roland and Henry were indeed half-brothers. It is generally accepted that for looks Henry VIII took after his maternal grandfather, the Yorkist king Edward IV (who was also tall and handsome, but became gross in his later years). If this were so, how could Roland also look like Edward IV? There was no blood connection. If the resemblance between the two half-siblings were that pronounced as to cause comment, then it has to be wondered if, perhaps, similar tall, handsome, “reddish-golden” looks were also to be found on Henry VII’s side? To my eyes, the first Tudor king and his mother have “Beaufort” stamped upon them. Some of Henry VII’s portraits are interchangeable with his mother. Both have high foreheads and cheekbones, small chins, hooded eyes and a general resemblance to the weasel. Put him in a wimple, and there she is!

What we do not know, of course, is what the earlier Tudors looked like. There are no portraits of Henry’s father, Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond, only a reproduction tomb engraving(below left). Nor are there portraits of his father, Owen Tudor. If, indeed, Owen had anything to do with fathering Edmund, there being yet another scandalous royal whisper that Owen’s “wife” (there is no solid evidence that she and Owen ever married) Queen Catherine of Valois, widow of Henry V, had actually been enjoying some hanky-panky with another Beaufort, who for whatever reason declined to marry her. Owen stepped in to make things less embarrassing for her. Tangled webs in every shadow. But let’s suppose that the earlier Tudors were indeed Henry VII’s forebears. They might have been tall and reddish-blond. Well, they could have been, so do not wag your fingers at my screen! The Vikings did NOT steer clear of Wales.

Whatever the reason for Roland and Henry VIII sharing physical similarities—and maybe it was simply coincidence—it could have been with some relief that Roland scurried off to Beaumaris with his neck still attached to the rest of him. Better to be alive, than meet some dark Tudor death because of being regarded as an awkward presence at court. On the other hand, he may well have resented Beaumaris for taking him away from luxury. It was said in 1534 (the year before Roland’s death) that the never-completed castle had deteriorated so that “there was scarcely a single chamber in Beaumaris Castle where a man could lie dry”.

beaumaris-castle

Given Roland’s character, it will come as no surprise that he was a troublesome constable, making all the capital he could from his privileges. Twenty-five or so years at court had undoubtedly given him expensive tastes. But whether he liked it or not, the rest of his life was to be spent at Beaumaris where he began to live (scandalously, of course) with widowed Agnes Griffith, whom he would eventually make his wife. She was a member of the most powerful family in Gwynedd, and had children with Roland. Their descendants were numerous, and included his famous granddaughter, Catherine of Berain, known as the ‘Mother of Wales’. Roland de Velville certainly left his mark in his wife’s homeland.

catherine-of-berain-rolands-granddaughter

Roland died at Beaumaris Castle on 25th June 1535, and was buried at the Church of St Mary’s and St Nicholas, Beaumaris. If he was indeed buried there, I cannot find anything about his actual resting place. I have not been to the church, so it does not signify that he is no longer there, just that he’s escaped me. How intriguing it would be (the discovery of Richard III’s DNA being so fresh in the mind) to see if Roland’s DNA could be obtained. That would indeed help to ascertain if he was Henry VII’s offspring.

st-mary-and-st-nicholas-beaumaris

There is a lot of conflicting information about Roland. Was he of royal blood? Or wasn’t he? Who said what, and when? To whom? Can a Welsh elegy to him, by Daffyd Alaw (1535), be given any credence whatsoever? Well, it claims that Roland was ‘A man of kingly line and of earl’s blood’, which would certainly fit Henry VII, who had been born Henry, Earl of Richmond (he was born posthumously). So yes, Roland could well have been Henry’s son. Why else was he brought to the English court and supported in the way he was? And those who say that such bardic traditions should be ignored as highly improbable should perhaps remember that bardic tradition was how Welsh history was recorded. It was committed to memory and and passed down through the generations. The Welsh are clever enough to train their grey cells!

Historians have been rude about each other where this mysterious Breton écuyer is concerned. That is, if he was even Breton. Yes, I fear the conflicting ‘evidence’ even calls this basic fact into question. Maybe his mother’s family hailed from a corner of France. You see, we do not know her identity either.

rolands-mystery-mother

It seems that Roland was granted arms that were quartered, indicating the families from whom he was descended. They do not, of course, include Henry. But although these families can be hazarded, they cannot be identified for certain, So, who was his mother? Did she marry someone called de Velville (or other variations of the name in both French and Breton)? Maybe this man believed the boy was his. He wouldn’t be the first to have another man’s child foisted upon him. But, yet again, it’s guesswork. All is vague and uncertain.

To read an intricate account of it all, with far more small detail, go to http://www.happywarrior.org/genealogy/roland.htm

And now I will tell you why I think Henry VII did not acknowledge Roland. No, it’s not that Roland simply wasn’t his son, what a boring conclusion to come to. Far more interesting to make the two father and son. What if (ah, those words beloved of fiction writers) a teenaged Henry had fallen passionately, lustfully in love with, and impetuously married, a young, equally passionate and lustful Breton noblewoman? What if it was a secret wedding that never came to light and was soon regretted on both sides? What if Henry was moved elsewhere in Brittany (he was a prisoner under house arrest) and his bride (frightened by her important male relatives, who knew nothing of the secret marriage, was forced to bigamously marry someone “suitable”. Pregnant with Henry’s child, she allowed her new husband to believe the child was his.

Are you still with me? Right, move on to 1485. Henry is going to invade England to challenge Richard III for the throne. To be sure of much-needed Yorkist support, he vows to marry Elizabeth of York, Richard’s niece and the senior unmarried Yorkist princess. He wins at Bosworth and has to honour his vow. Sooo…knowing he is already married, he weds Elizabeth. Another bigamous match, but one that could have catastrophic consequences. Not least bloody rebellion and the chopping of Henry’s slender neck.

Then Roland enters his life much more immediately. The boy’s mother is on her deathbed and fears for his life at the hands of her second husband. She implores Henry to take Roland under his protection. And so he comes to court but cannot possibly be acknowledged by his royal father, who, understandably, doesn’t want any enemies poking around in what happened when he was a young prisoner in Brittany. Nor does Roland even know Henry is his father.

Thus history repeats itself, with Henry VII following in the footsteps of his father-in-law, Edward IV. Another secret wife, a second deceived bride, and heirs who are all illegitimate. Roland de Velville is his legitimate son. The rightful King of England? But can even Henry contemplate disposing of this inconvenient boy…? His own child?

There, is that not a half-decent plot for a historical novel? I thought so too, so I made it the main theme of the fourth book in my Cicely series. The book is called Cicely’s Sovereign Secret.

cicelys-sovereign-secret

 

 

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