[MR] more news from Troyes

[Karen Setze]

Dear Friends,

My father’s cousin is a clerk to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Henry Chichele, 
and he has kindly responded to my request for more information about England’s 
young and vigorous King Henry, fifth of that name. Like a sudden hailstorm 
flattening a wheat field, he cut down so many of France’s proud nobles at 
Agincourt, and next month he comes to Troyes. But most of us know so little of 
him. 


Until I read my cousin’s letter, I did not know that this king, sometimes called 
Henry of Monmouth for the castle where he was born in 1387, was not a prince at 
his birth. He became one after his father, called Henry of Bolingbroke, grandson 
of the mighty King Edward III, won the throne in a quest for justice.

The man who ruled England when King Henry was born was Richard, son of King 
Edward’s eldest son, that paragon of chivalry, Edward of Woodstock, whom some 
now call the Black Prince. Prince Edward died before his father, so when King 
Edward died, his grandson, Richard was put on the throne, with his uncle, John 
of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, as his regent. John of Gaunt’s eldest son was Henry 
of Bolingbroke, father to the current king.

When John of Gaunt died in February 1399, King Richard confiscated the estates 
of the Duchy of Lancaster, instead of allowing John’s son to inherit. That son, 
Henry of Bolingbroke, who now also carried the titles of Earl of Derby and Duke 
of Hereford, had been crusading in Lithuania and Prussia. 


In July 1399, Henry returned to England determined to regain his lands by force 
of arms. King Richard was in Ireland, and before he got back, many nobles had 
rallied to Henry’s side. For they feared to see a precedent for thus disrupting 
the laws of inheritance. When Richard returned to London, he was forced to 
abdicate the throne, and in late September, Henry was declared king by 
Parliament. At his coronation, his eldest son, Henry of Monmouth, age 12, was 
named Prince of Wales. 


By the time he was 15, the prince was leading an army into Wales against the 
rebellious prince Owain Glyndwr, and the next year he joined forces with the 
king to fight Henry Hotspur at Shrewsbury. During that campaign, the prince was 
almost killed by an arrow to the face, being saved by a wise physician, showing, 
perhaps, that a greater destiny awaited this prince.

In his letter, my relative says that Henry’s father had proposed a match between 
his eldest son and Princess Catherine of France some seven years ago, but the 
king died before the negotiations had really begun. The prince was crowned the 
next day, and soon resumed the negotiations, but rightfully noted that a bigger 
dower was called for, since the princess would now be marrying a sitting king, 
who also had a right to their throne. Unwisely, the French refused him.

Henry began his preparations for invasion, but gave the French monarchs one more 
chance to turn it into a visit of state. He asked for two million crowns, the 
return of Normandy, along with the southern provinces, and the hand of 
Catherine. My elder relative saw the return letter wherein her father the king, 
said:

“If that is your mind, we will do our best to receive you, but as to the 
marriage, we think it a strange way of wooing Catherine, covered with the blood 
of her countrymen.”

More unwisely still, Catherine’s elder brother, the crown prince, Louis, whom 
the French call the dauphin, sent Henry a casket of tennis balls, with a message 
that they would be better playthings than the provinces he demanded.

My relative writes that King Henry, never one to shrink from difficulty or 
adventure, declared:

“Those balls shall be struck back with such a racket as shall force open Paris’ 
gates.”

And now all France, and Burgundy too knows the truth of Henry’s words. But he is 
not a stout warrior only, but also skilled in diplomacy.

A year after King Henry’s stupendous victory at Agincourt, Sigismund, king of 
Hungary, visited England with the goal of making peace between Henry and France. 
Henry entertained the Sigismund royally, and enrolled him into the august Order 
of the Garter. The Hungarian responded by inducting Henry into the Order of the 
Dragon. A few months later, before leaving England, Sigismund signed the Treaty 
of Canterbury, in which he acknowledged Henry’s claim to the French crown.

And Henry also has reason to rejoice in the martial gifts of his younger 
brother, John, the duke of Bedford. A short time after Sigismund returned to 
Hungary, a French blockade of English-controlled Harfleur was broken and French 
naval allies from Genoa were driven from the Channel by the duke of Bedford 
after a seven-hour battle.

Last year, King Henry resumed his work of subduing France beginning with the 
recapture of Normandy. The archbishop, and my cousin, his clerk were there when 
the city of Rouen fell. Henry dealt ruthlessly with those who led the resistance 
to their rightful duke. The man who had ordered English prisoners hung from the 
walls of the city was immediately executed. Robert de Livet, Canon of Rouen, who 
had dared to excommunicate Henry, is now a prisoner in England. By August, Henry 
and his forces were at the gates of Paris.

And now this human whirlwind is invited to Troyes, perhaps to make a treaty, 
because the Duke of Burgundy, who rules here in all but name, will not give aid 
or assistance to those who murdered his father. King Henry’s arrival, almost 
certainly with men at arms, will swell the population of a city already well 
filled. And how long will the taverns survive serving this mix of Burgundian, 
English and French soldiers?

It is indeed fortunate that Bright Hills’ celebration of the harvest season and 
the eve of All Saints Day will be spent at Baroness Martelle’s manor outside the 
city. More fortunate still are those lucky enough to be invited to share in the 
feasting and dancing and contests we shall enjoy!

By my hand on this, the feast of the martyrs Marcellus and Apuleius,

Lady Yseulte Trevelyn