murreyandblue

A great WordPress.com site

Archive for the tag “royal marriages”

The Central Line Consort?

Kathryn Warner has been Edward II’s main chronicler for a few years now, writing about the King himself, his times, his great-grandson Richard II, several other relatives the roots of the “Wars of the Roses”. This book is about Edward’s daughter-in-law, although he tried a little to prevent his eldest son’s marriage during his own reign and apparent lifespan.

However, Edward III did marry Philippa of Hainault and the marriage lasted for over forty years, during which time they had twelve children. Edward and their sons, particularly their eldest Edward the “Black Prince“, played a full part in victories at Crecy and Neville’s Cross. In a parallel with Richard III and his siblings, a thirteenth child, one “Thomas of Windsor”, has been added by modern writers serving as posthumous surrogate mothers, although not the same writer who gave Richard an elder sister, “Joan”, and added an “Edward” to Mary de Bohun’s sextet of children by the future Henry IV.

This is one of the relative few biographies I have purchased of a royal woman and feels very much like another one in particular. The first chapter, just like Ashdown-Hill’s best tome, explores the subject’s family in great detail but, unlike Eleanor and Paul Johnson’s Elizabeth I, Philippa of Hainault becomes pregnant regularly and has children, their ages are regularly mentioned and she, with Edward, formulates marriage plans for them, not all of which come to fruition.

This is a fascinating book, delineating a veritable matriach. As for our subtitle, peruse the above map. Hainault is on the eastern loop of the Central line, near Newbury Park. Elephant and Castle, on the Northern Line and near the Thames, is reputedly named after Edward II’s mother, although probably in error.

The seven "best"couples in history? Richard and Anne make it at seven….!

This image from the Salisbury Roll doesn’t appear in the article below

And how they make it is a mystery, as is the rest of this list, which puts together a truly weird collection. I mean, what was so very remarkable about John and Jackie Kennedy? They were good-looking, influential and rich….but does that make them the sixth “best” couple of all time? I think not. Same for Churchill and Clementine. Great couples, yes, but not in a list of seven in all history!

As for poor Richard and Anne, I’m not really sure how or why they made this peculiar list. The so-called experts who’ve been herded in to give their opinions aren’t exacty pro-Richard, and some of their opinions are downright weird.

According to Philippa Gregory (Expert? She’s a historical novelist with books to sell!): “….’I think it most likely that Anne judged rightly that nobody could protect her from the greed and jealousy of the House of York but a brother of the House of York, and wisely and bravely ran away from her sister’s house to marry Richard’….” Right. I haven’t read her book about Anne Neville, but I think I have the gist of it. And as this author has taken it upon herself to rename the Wars of the Roses the “Cousins War” I don’t think I’ll be bothering. Historical fiction is just that, fiction, and should not be peddled as fact. I’m afraid that, for me, Philippa Gregory crosses the line.

As for Professor Michael Hicks. He writes “….’While we might argue that Richard wanted to be buried at Westminster with his queen, there is some evidence that he tried to replace her before she died.’….” This is worded to make Richard appear an uncaring husband who couldn’t wait to be rid of his queen. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Richard did love Anne. It was his advisors who urged him to think of marrying again, and then only because Anne was on her deathbed. He died at Bosworth, a king grieving for both his wife and only legitimate child.

Shame on these “experts” for twisting things around to suit their own arbitrary opinions, which smack of schadenfreude! Never trust anyone whose sole purpose is to sell their books!

As a multi-published author myself, I have often written about actual historical figures. Fictionally, yes, but I have always included an Author Note in which I have owned up to my inventions. I have never peddled them as historical fact!

Did Richard of Gloucester’s marriage take place in 1477…?

The following article concerns information found in the thesis The Medieval Tournament: Chivalry, Heraldry and Reality An Edition and Analysis of Three Fifteenth-Century Tournament Manuscripts, 2 Volumes, by Ralph Dominic Moffat, August 2010. See https://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/1430/1/Ralph_Moffat_PhD_2010.pdf

The four extracts (A-D) below are attributed to Oxford, Bodleian Library Ashmolean MS 856, fols 94r -104r : English narrative of the ‘justs royall’ held to celebrate the marriage of the Duke of Gloucester, 1477.

This long thesis is of interest because these ‘justs royall’ were recorded as being in celebration of the Duke of Gloucester’s marriage. As far as I am aware there was only one Duke of Gloucester in 1477—Richard, brother of King Edward IV. But he is generally believed to have married Anne Neville closer to 1472, when the dispensation was issued, and when his son died in 1483, the boy was 10 years old and had been born in December 1473. So what were these royal jousts in 1477? Delayed marriage celebrations? If so, they were very delayed. Or perhaps a narrative written later about celebrations that took place several years earlier?

(A) “….There is mention in the codex of the challenges to various chivalric combats being proclaimed (fols 23v and 78r ). A vivid illustration of this process is provided in an account of the ‘justs royall’ held to celebrate the marriage of the Duke of Gloucester in 1477: the King […] did call such Officers as were then pr[e]sent and Commanded them to publish and shew the said petit[i]ons and Artycles in all places convenyent Theis Articles were received by the said Officers of Armes and according to his high Commandment were first published in the white hall by […] Clarenceux King of Armes and Norroy King of Armes who read the Proclamation Guyen King of Armes Winsor Herauld Chester Herauld being pr[e]sent in the said Hall […] From hence the said Officers of Armes went to the Citty of London where the same day the said Articles were p[ro]claymed & published in fower severall [sic] places of the said Citty at the Standard in Cheape at Leadenhall at Grace Church and at London bridge and by Clarencieux Norry and Guyen Kings of Armes all on horsebacke also the Marshall of the Kings Trumpetts was w[i]th them & did sound at every of the places in þe Citty.[7]

[7] Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmolean MS 856, fol. 94r

(B) “….The mention of the death of the Bastard of Burgundy’s horse whilst being guarded by the heralds (fol. 62v ) is more evidence of their importance as arbitrators. In a narrative of the tourney for the marriage celebrations of the Duke of Gloucester in 1477 it is stated that one of the participants was able to ‘disvoid a ribb of the polron [shoulder defence]’ of his opponent but ‘never sought him where hee was disarmed For the which the Princesse of the feast and all the Herauldes noted for the which prudent behaveing there was awarded him for the best Tourney[er] without’.[12] Thus it is evident that in all types of chivalric combat the heralds’ role as chivalric arbitrator was paramount….”

[12] Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmolean MS 856, fol. 101r

(C) “….As part of the celebrations of the marriage of the Duke of Gloucester in 1477 one of the King’s squires ‘came horsed and Armed for the Tourney and two Knights bore two Swords before him accordinge to the Articles before rehearsed’.[16]

[16] Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmolean MS 856, fol. 99r

(D) “….In an account of the ‘justs royall’ held to celebrate the marriage of the Duke of Gloucester in 1477 it is noted that ‘Earle Rivers rewarded the said Kings of Armes and Heraulds with Twenty Markes.[197]

[197] Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmolean MS 856, fol. 94r

Reading mss is not my strong point, but I imagine the above information is absolutely correct. So, can anyone explain about this marriage tournament in 1477?

Heralds Sound The Advance. A painting by Hugh St Pierre Bunbury published by the Boys Own Paper in January 1914.

 

Secret Marriages – Edward IV & his Two Wives, the Novel

Over the years there has been lots of fiction written about Edward IV, Elizabeth Woodville and of course Richard III. However, there is one one figure in their story who often gets a mention, but  is rarely portrayed as a living person, with the events long after her death in 1468 taking the forefront instead.  This, of course, is Eleanor Boteler, or more correctly, Eleanor Talbot, daughter of  the  Earl of Shrewsbury. Possibly the only novel in which Eleanor  has played a major role is John Crowne’s THE MISERY OF CIVIL WAR, which first appeared in 1680! (In this work, very strangely, Eleanor dies at Edward’s hands at Barnet,  after first cursing him!)

In SECRET MARRIAGES, a new short novel, Eleanor takes the forefront through most of the book, although some chapters are from Edward’s point of view and still others from Elizabeth Woodville’s. Amongst other things, the novel covers Eleanor’s heritage, which has been rather ignored by certain ‘historians’, many novelists and the general public (when the latter  know  about her at all). I recall one blogpost where someone stated ‘Ricardians say she was the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury’. Well, ‘Ricardians’ don’t ‘say’ anything–for that is exactly who she was without question! And her ancestry is far more complex than just being the Earl’s daughter–few seem aware, in fiction or otherwise, that Warwick was her uncle by marriage, and Anne and Isabel, his daughters, her cousins. Eleanor’s mother was Margaret Beauchamp, half-sister to Warwick’s wife, Anne Beauchamp. She also had distant royal descent–certainly not a ‘nobody’ as some have tried to make her.

She had living relatives of high status too. Her sister, to whom she seemed close,  was none other than Elizabeth, the Duchess of Norfolk, mother of Anne Mowbray, who was married as a child to Richard of Shrewsbury, the younger of the ‘Princes in the Tower,’ but died at a young age. (Her coffin was found in the 60’s  in a demolition site which stood on top of the medieval remnants of the Poor Clare’s convent. Interestingly, this was not Anne’s original burial site; she’d been interred in Westminster Abbey, but good old Henry VII had shunted her body out to the nuns when he pulled down St Erasmus’ chapel to build his own chapel.) Anyway, Duchess Elizabeth attended the Coronation of Richard III, and there was no protest from her or  her family that Eleanor had been ‘slandered’ or the story ‘made up.’.

SECRET MARRIAGES also tries to give a picture of where, with the the scanty surviving evidence as teased out by the late Dr John Ashdown-Hill, Eleanor may have lived and where the marriage with Edward may have taken place (thought to be sometime around June 1461). One likely candidate is scenic Burton Dassett in Warwickshire, with its fine church filled by interesting medieval carvings. The story goes on to show Eleanor’s patronage of Corpus Christi College in Cambridge  (a carving of a Talbot hound still adorns the buildings) and attempts to recreate the bustle of medieval Norwich and the House of the Carmelites where she was laid to rest, now sadly destroyed save for a ruined archway, although the magnificent and perhaps unique entrance portal still survives, although not in situ, inside the Courts of Justice across the river.

Hopefully, SECRET MARRIAGES, can bring Eleanor Talbot a little more into the light–the Queen who might have been. And for the naysayers about Edward’s first marriage, look at Edward IV’s history with Elizabeth Woodville–he kept that marriage secret for months after it took place. Do you really think he might not have done the same thing before?

 

SECRET MARRIAGES NOVEL-UNIVERSAL LINK

 

secretmarriagessmall

After The White Princess and the White Queen, now we’re to have The Spanish Princess….

The American TV network Starz is at it again. After The White Princess and The White Queen, now we’re to have a dose of Catherine of Aragon, The Spanish Princess. See here …

It is to be aired in Spring 2019, so batten down the hatches, folks, we’re in for another bumpy dose of hokum. There are some familiar actors from previous series, plus the wonderful Harriet Walter as Margaret Beaufort. I think Dame Harriet will have a whale of a time.

There’s just one thing. These Starz series are renowned for prettying up the proceedings (I mean, they made Henry VII into a handsome, desirable stud!) So what, I wonder will they do with Katherine, who has always been portrayed as hard-done-by. But was she?

Recent research has proved that both Prince Arthur and Prince Henry (future Henry VIII) did their utmost to wriggle free of her. Why? Because she was too fanatically religious for them! It was believed that some of her astonishingly strict procedures were leading to an inability to produce children, which is hardly what is wanted of a Queen of England. She wouldn’t give up what she was doing, so the Tudors believed she was deliberately thwarting their chances of a continuing succession.

In the meantime, of course, Starz will portray her as the shy, beautiful, desirable, ill-treated bride who became the victim of the vile, adulterous urges of the contents of a certain Tudor codpiece.

Let’s face it, if she was too religious for the Tudors, she must have been quite something!

 

Mugging with Henry VIII

And for your Christmas feast, a mug fit for a King. Or maybe a mug for a mug… You can now wake yourself up with a splash of caffeine whilst gazing at Henry VIII’s portly charm and watching his unfortunate ‘wives’ (due to the marriages being annulled , he technically only had two wives, not six!) vanish from their places behind their lord and master.

Henry would have deemed such a mug a truly magical object–and  no doubt he would also have wished that  he could have ‘vanished’ his unwanted ‘wives’ with equal ease…MUG

Royal genealogy before it happens (3)

(as published in the Setember 2018 Bulletin)eugenieandjack

Seven years ago, before this blog officially began, a letter was published in the Ricardian Bulletin about the common Edward III descent of the Duke and Duchess, as she soon became, of Cambridge through the Gascoigne-Fairfax line. This, about the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s mutual ancestry, followed this March.

Now it is clear that Princess Eugenie, the former scoliosis sufferer and daughter of the Duke of York, and her partner Jack Brooksbank are closely related through Edward III and James II (the Scottish one). They will marry at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor on 12 October.

Having examined the evidence, this document and shows that they have a most recent common ancestor: Thomas Coke, 2nd Earl of Leicester (1822-1909).

thomas-coke-2nd-earl-of-leicester

Coke’s simplest royal descent is from Charles II.

charles-ii

Brooksbank is descended from Edward III via Robert Devereux (2nd Earl of Essex, through four of Edward III’s sons, although I have chosen the senior Mortimer line) to Coke’s second wife, Lady Georgiana Cavendish, although there is probably other Edward III ancestry. Lady Georgiana’s grandmother was Lady Catherine Gordon, daughter of the Marquess of Huntly and this line descends from James IV, who is obviously more recent than his grandfather, but through his mistress not his “Tudor” wife. He, of course, was James II’s grandson.

This document shows that Lady Georgiana was descended from the first Earl of Harewood, Edward Lascelles, whose wife was descended through the Bowes and Lumley lines from Edward IV.

Furthermore, as this picture shows, Princess Eugenie wore a backless dress to show her scoliosis scar.

Anne of Brittany’s heart has been stolen; literally….

Anne of Brittany

At least the word “presumed” has been allowed in! It introduces an element of doubt about Richard III. Which is better than nothing.

I hope this relic is returned to where it belongs. This sort of thievery is despicable.

Footnote: I am delighted to be able to report that since I wrote this article, the stolen treasure has now been found. See here.

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

 

 

More Royal marital irregularity

Edward IV was not the only British late mediaeval king to play fast and loose with canon law. The other case dates from a century and a quarter before 8 June 1461 and had consequences for that king’s heirs; in particular his grandson:

Today in 1337, a first son, John, was born to Sir Robert Stewart, the Paisley-born High Steward of Scotland, and Elizabeth Mure at Scone. Sir Robert was heir presumptive to his uncle, David II, but David was eight years younger and widely expected to have children of his own. He was, indeed, to marry twice but failed to leave any heirs – although being imprisoned in the Tower for eleven years after the 1346 battle of Neville’s Cross didn’t help much, Sir Robert couldn’t have predicted this in 1336, when he undertook a marriage of sorts to Elizabeth Mure.

In the aftermath of Neville’s Cross, as Guardian of the Realm to his absent uncle, Sir Robert and Elizabeth sought to regularise their position under canon law through a dispensation and married properly in 1349. By this time, many of their four sons and six daughters had already been born and they were, arguably, legitimised by the marriage, which ended six years later when Elizabeth, now formally Lady Stewart, died. Sir Robert swiftly married Euphemia Ross, by whom he had two more sons and two daughters and is reckoned to have had eight illegitimate children as well. Jean Stewart, a daughter from his first marriage, married Sir John Lyon of Glamis, from whom the late Queen Mother was descended.

Shortly after this second marriage, David II was ransomed under the Treaty of Berwick, which was a Scottish town until Richard of Gloucester’s 1482 invasion. Joan “of the Tower”, his first wife and Edward III’s sister, died in 1362 and David married Margaret Drummond in 1364, whom he “divorced” in 1370 although this was reversed by the Pope. Although they had been on bad terms, David II died in 1371 and Sir Robert succeeded him as Robert II, to reign for nineteen years.

John, the eldest of his fourteen children, was created Earl of Carrick and was influential during his father’s reign and succeeded him as Robert III in 1390, to be crowned on his birthday. His reign was largely dominated by his brothers, Robert Duke of Albany and Alexander Earl of Buchan. His elder son, David Duke of Rothesay, died in 1402 in Albany’s custody at Falkland Palace. In 1406 he sent his younger son, James, to France only for English pirates to capture him.

Robert III died when he heard this and the new prisoner in the Tower succeeded as James I. He was held there for about seventeen years and returned with Joan “Beaufort”, Henry V’s apparent cousin, as his queen. Albany’s son and successor, Murdoch, two of his sons and his father-in-law were executed for delaying James’ release and the Lancastrian policy of religious persecution was adopted.

From 1436, a plan to depose or kill James was formulated and it involved Walter, Earl of Atholl and Caithness, a septuagenarian son of Robert II’s Ross marriage. It seems highly likely that he was motivated by a disbelief in the validity of the Mure marriage and thus the legitimacy of the offspring of it. The “Avignon” conspirators killed James I at the Blackfriars in Perth during February 1436/7 but his son was crowned and the House of Stewart survived. The surviving Robert_II_of_Scotland Robert_III,_King_of_Scotlandplotters, including Atholl, were tortured and executed.

So were John of Carrick, his siblings and descendants legitimate? It seems never to have been determined by the Church except through the 1347 dispensation. Carrick’s line has ruled Scotland ever since and England from 1603, except for the interregnum whilst Henry VII, a scion of bastardy himself, married his daughter Margaret to the senior Mure-Stewart: James IV.

That petition:
“The kings of France and Scotland, bishops William of St. Andrews, William of Glasgow, William of Aberdeen, Richard of Dunkeld, Martin of Argyle, Adam of Brechin, and Maurice of Dunblane. Signification that although Elizabeth Mor and Isabella Boutellier, noble damsels of the diocese of Glasgow, are related in the third and fourth degrees of kindred, Robert Steward of Scotland, lord of Stragrifis, in the diocese of Glasgow, the king’s nephew, carnally knew first Isabella, and afterwards, in ignorance of their kindred, Elizabeth, who was herself related to Robert in the fourth degree of kindred, living with her for some time and having many children of both sexes by her; the above king and bishops therefore pray the pope that for the sake of the said offspring, who are fair to behold (aspectibus gratiose), to grant a dispensation to Robert and Elizabeth to intermarry, and to declare their offspring legitimate.

To be granted by the diocesan, at whose discretion one or more chapelries are to be founded by Robert.

Avignon, 10 Kal. Dec. 1347

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: