‘A medieval literary interlude!

A good yarn puts everyone in a better  mood!

Whether they be of gentle tone, or even a little lewd!’

Geoffrey Chaucer

The man writing the yarns in the latter part of the 14th century was Geoffrey Chaucer, a man of many talents. He was a soldier, diplomat, administrator, Member of Parliament, gardener and a poet. Many would be impressed by this compelling man, including the royal family, especially King Edward III. Chaucer would remain in royal favour, with the ascension to the throne of Richard II and also under his successor, Henry IV in 1399 . To enjoy the pleasure of three kings over a period of forty years, during times of dangerous political intrigues in which many heads rolled, was an achievement in itself.

Chaucer was born in London around 1443 into a prosperous family of vintners.

‘Life is simply divine when you are partaking of the fruit of the vine!’

The Chaucer family’s connection to wine would continue in an unexpected vein, later in Geoffrey’s career. Chaucer would gain a fan in King Edward III, who admired his poetry. In recognition of his literary talents, the king in 1374, granted Chaucer a gallon of wine a day for the rest of his life.

King Edward III.

‘My dear Chaucer, thou dost write many a fine poetic line!

So I am rewarding you with a daily ration of  delicious vintage wine!’

Geoffrey Chaucer

In fact, Chaucer had caught the eye of King Edward III as a teenager, long before his literary career had borne fruit. In 1359, he sailed to France as a soldier in one of Edward’s military expeditions. However, he was captured by French forces at the siege of Rheims and held for ransom.

The siege of Rheims.

The king happily paid the princely sum of £16 (more than £11,000 in today’s money) for young Geoffrey’s safe return. The king remarked:

‘Oh yonder Geoffrey, a lad so fair and handsome!

For his safe return, I will gladly pay the requested ransom!’

It is likely that the king considered the ransom fee as money well spent. Chaucer would go on to serve the crown as a diplomat, travelling to France, Italy and Spain during the 1360’s. He must have made an impression, as King Edward awarded Chaucer a pension of 20 marks for services rendered.

Geoffrey Chaucer married the politically connected Philippa Roet, the two having met as children in the household of Elizabeth of Ulster. They probably had four children and Philippa died around 1387.

To be a pilgrim.

‘You know, life can at times, be a trifle grim!

Well, liven it up by going forth and becoming a pilgrim!’

There was no such thing as a holiday in medieval times, because few people left the area in which they were born. Although the term holiday is derived from ‘holy days’ when people would meet to enjoy sports and a little feasting with their neighbours at the local church. However, some people would be lucky enough to travel on a pilgrimage to one of England’s many holy shrines. The pilgrimages gave rise to an industry rather like today’s commercial tourism. The places where they were located would of course offer accommodation and food to the pilgrims, as well as souvenirs to take home. One of the most famous and frequently visited places of pilgrimage was the shrine of Thomas Beckett at Canterbury Cathedral.

The Canterbury Tales.

Chaucer decided that a pilgrimage to Canterbury was a basis for a good story and the result was The Canterbury Tales.

The Canterbury Tales is undoubtedly Chaucer’s most well known work. It is a story of a group of pilgrims who set off from the Tabard Inn in London for their destination, the shrine of Thomas Beckett at Canterbury Cathedral.

Medieval pilgrims en route to a shrine.

‘

In his masterpiece, Chaucer vividly describes the characters, and their stories give a lively insight  into a slice of late medieval life. Pilgrimages were an important aspect of the medieval kaleidoscope and were undertaken for a variety of reasons. One might embark on a pilgrimage in order to atone for past sins and therefore receive a shorter sentence in purgatory.

‘My pilgrimage is a holy mission!

A journey of abject and sincere contrition!’

The Pardoner.

‘I beg your pardon!

Purgatory sure ain’t no rose garden!’

One of the characters in Chaucer’s epic work was the pardoner in the Pardoner’s Tale. The Catholic Church was the only religion of any significance in medieval times and it exercised great influence over the people. It taught people to think of the next world rather than the present one and the importance of doing good and avoiding sin. Priests would regale their congregations about the sublime rewards of heaven and the agonies of the fires of hell.

Purgatory was a half way house where the dead would suffer unspeakable torments before being admitted to heaven. However, a sinner might avoid a long stint in purgatory if they were to pay for the privilege. This is where the pardoner came in.

The Pardoner.

‘Today, people might call the pardoner, a cynical old religious freak!

But in those days, they simply marvelled at his amazing selling technique!’

The Pardoner was authorised by the Church to sell ‘indulgences’, a fee for spending less time in purgatory. The service raised huge sums of money for the Church as well as making people feel better about themselves..

Others would go in order to ask for divine intervention in the case of a loved one being afflicted by a terrible illness. Another reason for becoming a pilgrim would be to give thanks to God for deliverance from sickness. The Canterbury Tales was written towards the end of Chaucer’s life and remained unfinished at his death in 1400. Nevertheless, it is regarded as a truly great work of English literature and is studied in educational establishments all over the world to this very day.

Chaucer died in London in October, 1400 and is interred in what is now known as Poets Corner in Westminster Abbey.

 

 

‘Richard now had to contend with his uncle, Thomas, the Duke of Gloucester!

Good relations between uncle and nephew, were becoming increasingly difficult to foster!’

Gloucester and his supporters were angry with the calibre of the men who advised the king. One reason for this was unadulterated snobbery on their part. The nobles objected to them because they were of low birth. To Gloucester, if a man was not born into the aristocracy, he should not be elevated to the king’s side. Gloucester and his allies were particularly critical of Richard’s chancellor, Michael de la Pole. To Gloucester’s grumblings, Richard retorted:

‘You shout and rage about de la Pole and condemn him as a low born slob!

For no other reason than you are an insufferable old snob!’

In October 1386, parliament met at Westminster and demanded among other things, the removal of de la Pole. Richard, who had refused to leave Eltham palace to visit Westminster, replied:

‘I would not even remove a scullion from my kitchen at your request!

You may complain all you want, be my guest!’

Richard’s rather highhanded attitude did not sit well with their lordships at Westminster. Gloucester and another powerful noble, Richard FitzAlan, the earl of Arundel confronted the king at Eltham. They did not mince their words.

Richard receives Gloucester and Arundel at Eltham palace.

‘We demand the dismissal of that rogue, Michael de la Pole!

If you refuse, be warned, the result will be an own goal!’

The two nobles told the king that he was governing in a most unjust fashion and this had to stop forthwith. They even had the gall to remind him of the horrible fate of his great-grandfather, Edward II, some 60 years earlier. The king, a fledgling of 21 years, folded before the magnates and agreed to their demands. Michael de la Pole was dismissed as chancellor, and a commission was established to look into the affairs of both the government, and the royal household. The commission’s investigation was to last for a year.

‘Our intention, your majesty is not to cause you any unnecessary pain!’

However, necessity demands that you be kept on a tighter rein!’

Parliament now exercised unprecedented power over the monarch and Richard winced at what he regarded as its intrusions. In the meantime, Richard had no choice but to wait and bide his time.

 

 

‘France and Scotland, in the year of 1386 did conspire to put an end to King Richard’s reign!

But by the year’s end, it was a case of  something ventured, but absolutely nothing gained!’

Scotland.

In 1385 the Scots, encouraged by the French who were planning an invasion of England, began to raid the northern counties. What was most worrying from Richard’s point of view, was the presence of French knights amongst the the Scots army. In retaliation, Richard assembled an army and along with his uncle, Lancaster, marched north. However the Scots, feeling that discretion was the better part of valour, refused to engage the English in open battle.

Richard II

‘With his great army, Richard was intent on showing the Scots that he was a man to be feared!

But when he came to the Lowlands, the Scots retreated to the Highlands and disappeared!’

King Richard had to content himself with sacking Edinburgh and destroying  some abbeys. Richard and Lancaster now disagreed upon how to proceed. Lancaster, a seasoned veteran of Scottish campaigns, favoured following the Scots into the Highlands, but Richard demurred. Pursuing the Scots into their home territory was a tricky proposition and he doubted that they would be successful. It was at this point that Richard showed his more humanitarian instincts. He told Lancaster that a long campaign with inadequate supplies would condemn the ordinary soldiers to death by hunger. This was something that he could not countenance.

‘You and I uncle, can fill our bellies with wine, lamb and pork!

But the poor foot soldier is without a morsel to place on his fork!’

If we make an invasion of the Highlands, our goal!

It will mean for many of  our men, the separation of body and soul!’

Overall, Richard deemed the idea foolhardy and they returned south.  Lancaster was furious and complained:

‘ Richard bears no resemblance either to his father or his grandfather, Edward III!

They would have fought the Scots, but he flies south like a frightened little bird!’

 

Memories of dad and granddad in more heroic times!

France.

The following year 1386, witnessed great panic within the realm, due to rumours of the long anticipated French invasion. It failed to materialise, because France lacked the funds to sustain such an undertaking. England’s borders were safe!

Domestic trouble.

Then to Richard’s delight, John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster, decided to relocate to Castile, Spain in order to press his claim for the throne there. The king was so pleased that he gave his uncle a golden crown as a going away present.

‘Good riddance to John of Gaunt, my unloved uncle!

He’s nothing more than a greedy, irritating old carbuncle!’

Although my uncle John often made me frown!

I sent him on his way with a splendid golden crown!’

Richard’s troubles did not evaporate with Lancaster’s departure. Another uncle of the king, the Duke of Gloucester undertook the role of royal enemy number one.

Thomas, Duke of Gloucester.

A status which he adopted with great, undisguised relish. Gloucester’s main target was Richard’s favourite, Michael de la Pole, whom he and his allies in parliament wanted removed as Chancellor. Gloucester wanted rid of de la Pole and another of Richard’s advisers, Robert de Vere, as they wished for a policy of peace towards France. This was not acceptable to Gloucester, who wanted to take a harder line against the French.

‘Richard and his men, in their thoughts of France, were akin to doves!

They wished to handle the French with pleasant, velvet gloves!

Gloucester’s attitude to France was like that of a hawk!

He demanded action and disdained gentle, soft, syrupy talk!’

 

Deep divisions had emerged at Richard’s court and such a situation could do no other than bode ill for the future.

As 1381 drew to a close, King Richard II, supping his yuletide wine, reflected on the horrors of the Peasants Revolt and sighed:

‘My God, those two devils, Tyler and Ball, causing a diabolical commotion in the pursuit of making everyone equal!

With a bit of luck, its dismal failure and the subsequent executions will preclude a hideous sequel!

I am so glad that the ghastly year of 1381 is over and done!

I am getting married in January, so 1382 promises to be a lot more fun!’

The year which followed the Peasants Revolt was a rather more happy one for King Richard. In January of 1382, he married Anne of Bohemia, whose late father, Charles IV had been, the Holy Roman Emperor.

The Holy Roman Emperor, Charles IV.

Richard was greatly looking forward to his marriage to Anne, despite the fact that he had never met her.

King Richard II and his Queen consort, Anne of Bohemia.

‘Anne saw her man, and of him, she became an instant fan!

Richard eyed his girl, and decided that she was worth more than a simple twirl!’

When the two fifteen year olds did meet, Anne must have been impressed at what she saw. Like his ancestors, Edwards I, II and III, Richard was tall and fine looking. The king would eventually reach a towering, six feet in height, which he bore with a regal air. Richard loved to adorn himself in the finest of garments and without doubt, he had spared no expense in tailoring when preparing to meet Anne for the first time. Richard and Anne were kindred spirits and the marriage would prove to be a happy one. The king was inconsolable when Anne died in 1394.

‘For Richard and Anne, it was pretty much love at first sight!

And in their time together, never a harsh word, let alone a fight!’

Anne was a gentle girl and possessed a warm sense of humanity. Indeed, this was shown when she persuaded Richard to call a halt to the executions of those involved in the Peasants Revolt. So, Anne proved to be something of a restraining influence on her husband, seeking to curb his wilder impulses. Nevertheless, her husband was of a highly strung disposition, as he had inherited the famous Plantagenet temper. King Richard’s fury was truly terrible to behold. Courtiers and household staff alike lived in constant fear of his anger, which turned him into a ranting, stammering and incoherent maniac. On a later occasion, he actually drew his sword on the Archbishop of Canterbury and would have used it, but fortunately he was prevented from doing so.

The early years of his reign had seen him learning his kingly craft in the shadow of his two uncles, Thomas of Woodstock, and John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. This would change in 1383, as he sought to break free from their orbit, and seek the advice of others. The two noble brothers greatly resented their young nephew’s decision to spread his royal wings and to draw new blood into his inner sanctum.

‘Dear uncles, John and Tom, my greatest thanks for your service, from you both, I have learned a great deal!

But now, it is time that I look to others for advice before on any piece of parchment, I place the royal seal!’

Uncles John and Thomas, feeling somewhat piqued, glumly departed Richard’s court to spend their time brooding at their huge estates. They felt that they had taught King Richard everything that he knew.

‘Ungrateful young cur!

It seems that it is the company of others that he doth prefer!’

Thomas of Woodstock, later Duke of Gloucester.

1382 had been a wonderful year for Richard and he looked forward to a long and successful reign. Would fortune smile upon his regal head and grant his ambitions? Surely God would protect his anointed person against those who seek to do evil ? But what if Richard were to do wrong and be seen to be doing so!

‘After a peaceful slumber, Wat Tyler awoke, his cloak covered with the morning dew!

Having arisen early, he was focussed on the day and what he had resolved to do!’

Tyler had received word that the king wished to speak with him again. This pleased the rebel leader because he was intent on pressing his advantage. Tyler had some more demands he wished to put to the king. Still, what of yesterday?

‘Cor, what a day was yesterday! Me, a poor roof tiler talking man to man with the king! All those lords dressed in their finery and gold never uttered a dicky bird the whole time. Father John Ball was dead right! Stand up to the over fed rogues and they will fold like a tent!  Swallowing too much venison and wine after a jousting session is all they ever do and it’s all they are good for! Us working peasants perform backbreaking labour on a diet of bread, a sup of small beer and perhaps a little pork! Tis a life that puts iron in your blood!’ Oh, there’s reverend John Ball.’

Morning Father Ball!

Good morning dear Wat! Yesterday was a great day for the common people!

And today, dear father, will be even better! Just wait and see! The king and his worthless gang of lackeys are coming to see us! We don’t have to go bow and scraping to him in his gorgeous palace surrounded by a crowd of simpering hounds! He is coming to us! 

Father John Ball preaching to the rebels in 1381.

True to his word, Richard and the royal entourage, appeared in Smithfield at the appointed time. What the rebels did not know, was that many in the royal retinue were carrying weapons concealed beneath their garments.

‘This was a meeting intended to end the recent sorrow, pillage and strife!

But King Richard’s retainers secretly carried weapons, such as sword and knife!’

Tyler rode out to meet the king and began to converse with him. The rebel leader asked for further concessions, including the right for peasants to hunt in the forests and the abolition of tithes, to which Richard appeared to agree. What happened next is not entirely clear. It seems that William Walworth, the mayor of London, objected to what he considered Tyler’s disrespectful attitude towards the king. Walworth is said to have cried:

‘False stinking knave!

Tis time that you were laid in your grave!’

Walworth then struck Tyler with his short sword, knocking him from his horse. Tyler was fatally wounded and died soon after. The rebels, furious at this turn of events, began to reach for their bows and it appeared that a pitched battle was about to begin. The day was saved by the fourteen year old King Richard. Showing immense presence of mind and great courage, the king rode to the rebel lines and told them:

‘I am your one true leader, so dear men please be at peace!

Everything that you have asked for will be granted piece by piece!

One and all will now follow me to the city gate!

From there you will depart London in a spirit of  great love, not vicious hate!’

King Richard exhorts the rebels to follow him.

The thoroughfares out of London that day were filled with gleeful peasants whooping with rapturous excitement. Their bright, laughing eyes glinting in the moonlight, and from their tongues came notes of pure joy. Tomorrow would be a better day, great hopes were about to be realised.

‘God protect dear Richard our sovereign king!

His praises, all of us here, do stand and sing!’

These happy sounds were soon replaced by howls of despair, and the cries of the peasant leaders as they were executed. King Richard soon broke every single promise that he made to the peasants that summer’s day in 1381. John Ball, who had fled to Coventry was captured, and after a show trial suffered the agonising death of being hanged drawn and quartered. The unfortunate priest was hanged for a short time and then castrated, before having his internal organs slowly cut from his abdomen and burnt before his eyes. Ball suffered this terrible punishment whilst still alive. To the authorities, he had become a figure of the utmost odium and had therefore to suffer accordingly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘In the month of June, like wildfire the revolt did spread.

Thus  filling the minds of the English nobility with terrible, unholy dread!’

In June the rebels of Kent, now having elected a leader, one Wat Tyler, entered Maidstone jail and freed the inmates being held there. One of these newly freed prisoners was a priest, named John Ball.

Father John Ball

Ball was a roving priest who preached the gospel of social equality, and his sermons had greatly offended the church authorities. Later in London, Ball would make speeches to the rebels assuring them of the justice of their cause.

From Maidstone, the rebels marched on Canterbury, entering the city on June 10th and proceeded to pillage the palace of Archbishop Simon Sudbury. Sudbury was detested, because as Chancellor, he had introduced the poll tax.  The rebels were fortunate in their timing, as John of Gaunt was in the north conducting a campaign against the Scots.

The scale of the uprising was truly frightening and London was of course the final destination of the rebels. From the north came the men of Hertfordshire, from the east, marched the discontents of Essex and from Kent, peasants led by Tyler strode forth. An orgy of destruction, murder and pillage was now beginning to characterise a popular uprising, caused by a multitude of genuine grievances. By June 12th, Tyler had established a base of Kentish men at Blackheath and proceeded to attack selected targets in London. Their task was made easier, because sympathetic Londoners had opened the city gates to them and in they poured. Gaunt’s palatial residence, the Savoy, was plundered and torched.

They marched through the city and burnt the tax records at Lambeth. Elsewhere, a number of royal officials were murdered. The Fleet gaol was stormed and the inmates released. It is said that the homes of the Flemings and Lombards were attacked, the unfortunate residents seized and put to the sword. The city of London had never endured such carnage. King Richard, a mere teenager, and his court were forced to take refuge in the Tower of London. Was the English feudal order, so carefully created and crafted by his ancestor, William the Conqueror about to collapse?

‘King Richard, safely ensconced in the Tower, from the battlements pondered the chaotic view!

The city and indeed the entire kingdom is in peril, what am I to do!’

On June 14th, King Richard, showing considerable courage, travelled from the Tower of London to Mile End to meet with the rebels.

‘The king, a mere boy in his fifteenth year!

Sallied forth to meet the  baying mob, showing not a hint of fear!’

 

King Richard meets with the rebels at Mile End, June 14th 1381.

At Mile End, King Richard listened as Wat Tyler told him what the rebels wanted. Amongst the demands was the abolition of serfdom and compulsory unpaid labour for the lords of the manor. They also asked that many of his advisers be put to death. Richard immediately agreed to the demands, but refused to hand over his officials for execution. The king granted a charter, and this was seen as a solemn guarantee of his good faith regarding his promises. So happily satisfied, a number of the rebels departed for home. The King had left Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury behind in the Tower. This fact did not go unnoticed by some of the rebels who proceeded to the Tower, howling for Sudbury’s blood.

‘Deep behind the stout walls of the Tower!

The hated Archbishop and his despised lackeys, did cower!’

The Tower of London in medieval times.

Sudbury had to die for introducing the poll tax, because it was an unforgivable offence against the common people of England. Finding Sudbury deep in prayer in the White Tower, they dragged him out to Tower Hill where he was beheaded. Sudbury’s death that summer’s day was neither clean nor swift. It took a good many strikes of the axe to sever the unfortunate Archbishop’s head from his neck. A number of other royal officials were similarly despatched and from the rebels point of view, it had been a good day’s work. Wat Tyler and his men retired to Smithfield, confident that the events of June 14th had ended with ‘mission accomplished’ as far as their objectives were concerned.

All of Edward’s gains in France were made at enormous cost!

Now, one by one, they were all eventually lost!’

King Edward III’s dream of becoming king of France had proved to be a costly delusion. His third surviving son, the mediocre John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, launched a blistering chevauchee from Brittany, towards Paris and Rheims in August 1373 with the intention of taking both. However, John of Gaunt lacked the military skills of both his father and his brother, so the French forces had little difficulty in repelling his assault. In desperation, John marched his army south and reached Bordeaux in December, having sustained heavy losses in terms of men and materials. The survivors presented a sorry sight as they shuffled into the city, bedraggled, bereft of armour and suffering from starvation.

‘The proud English Duke, John of Gaunt led his army through France on a disastrous jaunt!

As Duke John entered Bordeaux, the men gathered behind him stood hungry, emaciated and gaunt!’

In 1375, given the dire military situation in France, King Edward had no choice but to agree to a truce. John of Gaunt was sent to negotiate with Charles V and the process was overseen by Pope Gregory XI. The outcome of this was a net loss in terms of land to England.

Pope Gregory XI.

The only territories of substance which remained under English control were Bayonne, Bordeaux, Brest and Calais.

‘King Edward once had ambitions of securing from France, their royal crown!

Now the only thing that he got from the French was an almighty frown!’

The situation in England in the mid 1370’s was a most sorry one. King Edward was now in an advanced state of senility and the Black Prince grew weaker by the day. It was clear that the mark of death was now on both father and son. Of course the mantle of power fell on the shoulders of the unpopular John of Gaunt. With the Treasury empty and many allegations of corruption levelled at senior courtiers, a parliament was called for April 1376. This would become known as ‘The Good Parliament’ for it sought to root out the corrupt elements at the English court.

The Good Parliament of 1376.

‘The Good Parliament asked, why are the coffers bare? Where did the money go?

John of Gaunt and his smiling allies replied, well, we simply do not know!’

The Black Prince would have supported ‘The Good Parliament’, but he was to die in June 1376 and John of Gaunt and his associates felt free to dismiss it. A year later in June 1377, Edward III would die and his grandson, the ten year old Richard, son of the Black Prince would become king.

 

‘Poor King Edward becomes a doddering old fool!

Such a sad end for one who considered himself born to rule!

His consort dead, King Edward fell weeping into the arms of one, Alice Perrers, a woman eminently skilled in the dark arts of whoredom. Alice was wed at the age of twelve, and widowed at sixteen, before finding her way to Edward’s court. At some point, the young widow caught the king’s attention and he became captivated by her. Edward  derived great comfort from her presence, but her influence upon him was insidious. They presented a somewhat incongruous sight, the old king with his flowing grey beard and locks seated with a young woman of some twenty two years. The king, engulfed in bereavement, began to drink heavily and in this, Alice greatly encouraged him. With Alice at his side, his goblet would never, ever be empty. For Alice was attentive, always on hand to satisfy the old man’s every desire and whim.

‘More wine! More wine! Alice, holding the king’s hand would, to the servants call!

Thus ensuring that the king’s consumption of drink was always large, and never small!’

King Edward III with Alice at his side.

Edward, grinning inanely, would relax and look into her eyes as mistress Alice, smiled back benignly.

France.

This was certainly the beginning of the end of King Edward’s plans for France and the Black Prince’s dominance in Aquitaine. The King of France, Charles V decided to move against him and the Black Prince alerted his father about the threat. However, it appears that his brother John of Gaunt, was scheming against him at the English court which was hardly helpful. The king of France, a highly intelligent man, selected a native of Brittany, Bertrand du Guesclin to be Constable of France and to direct military action in Aquitaine.  This proved to be a most fortuitous appointment.

Charles V appoints du Guesclin as Constable of France.

The wily Breton decided to avoid conducting pitched battles as a general strategy with the Black Prince, but deployed guerrilla tactics which proved to be incredibly effective. The Black Prince was quick to retaliate, and he successfully laid siege to Limoges after it had fallen to French forces. At this point the Black Prince had become ill, and was confined to a litter from which he issued commands. His victory at Limoges was marred by the death of his eldest son, also called Edward, on September 20th.

‘The city of Limoges, I may have won!

But alas, I have lost Edward, my eldest son!’

The year of 1370 ended on a sour note when du Guesclin  defeated the English on the battlefield as at Pontvallain in December. By now, the Black Prince becoming increasingly frail, swollen with dropsy, and greatly grieved by the death of his son, decided to return to England in January 1371. He would not see France again. The French under du Guesclin proceeded to take back Aquitaine, acre by acre.

Bertrand du Guesclin.

‘I am stricken with dropsy, and so have swollen hugely in girth!

In this sad condition, I have no option but to return to England, the land of my birth!’

It could hardly have been a joyful homecoming for the Black Prince as he arrived at his father’s court. The heir to the throne returned bereaved, sick, tired and demoralised. He had the additional burden of consoling his wife, Joan of Kent, who was grieving for their recently departed son.

Joan of Kent.

The scene which greeted him was an unwelcome one. His father, Edward III, clearly losing his faculties, spending his time slobbering over the omnipresent Alice Perrers provided the ailing prince with a most unedifying spectacle. Then there was his brother, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, although pleasant to behold was clearly scheming behind his back. For every word uttered with a smile signalling undying brotherly love, there was a silent, unseen, malicious snarl.

All through this melancholy time, Charles V made further inroads into English held lands in Aquitaine. In 1372, Edward III, weakened in mind and body by age decided to mount a campaign against the French in Aquitaine. That summer he and the Black Prince who was  debilitated by sickness, sailed for France one last time. However, fate was not with them and storms prevented them from landing. In a mood of near despair, the old king and his son disembarked in England, cursing their wretched luck. King Charles V was ecstatic!

‘Oh Aquitaine! Oh my beautiful, bountiful Aquitaine!

All of your wonderful pastures I will soon be able to attain!’

At least Edward III had the comfort of senility to dull the pain of loss, but his son racked with physical agony, was not afforded that mercy.

‘1357, a year for Edward which began so fine, in fact, almost divine!

Then came the unfortunate years, which for the king  marked a decline, so sad a decline!’

It was certainly ‘Happy New Year’ in January 1356. Edward was in the highly unusual, and greatly fortunate position of having two of his royal enemies in captivity. John, King of France, was ensconced in wonderfully salubrious surroundings at the Savoy Palace, whilst David II of Scotland was detained in rather less elegant, but nevertheless, eminently comfortable quarters at the Tower of London. A very hefty ransom secured David’s release in 1357, whilst the French refused Edward’s price for the safe return of John II.

King John II of France

‘Oh dear King Edward, you have captured our king and without him we are truly lost!

However, your price for his return is a terrible, indeed, totally unacceptable cost!’

Edward invaded France in 1359 with a view to being crowned King of France at Rheims.  He proceeded to besiege the city, but met with stiff resistance.

Edward besieges the city of Rheims in 1359.

‘My greatest desire in my most sincere of dreams!

 Is to be crowned King of France at the cathedral in Rheims!’

However, Edward, despite his efforts, was unable to advance his claims to the French throne and his siege of Rheims was unsuccessful.

With a sense of great disappointment, he contented himself with devastating northern France and plundering the region of anything and everything of value. In a dismal frame of mind, he gathered his compensatory prize of plunder and retreated back towards the coast. In 1360, Edward and the king of France agreed the Treaty of Breginy by which in return for renouncing his claim to the French throne, Edward would be granted full sovereignty over Calais, Gascony, Guienne and Poitou. Edward, the Black Prince, would rule the territories which collectively made up Aquitaine as sovereign lord for his aging father.

Edward III awarding the duchy of Aquitaine to the Black Prince in 1362.

‘It was not a case of like father, like son!

The Black Prince’s actions now rendered his father’s gains as effectively undone!’

The Black Prince proved to be a somewhat unwise ruler, who greatly antagonised the people with crushing taxes. He had carried out an expensive military incursion into Spain in 1369 and this, combined with a taste for the high life, proved to be an enormous drain on his coffers. So as far as the Black Prince was concerned, the people of Aquitaine could pick up the bill for his extravagance.

‘I love the sights and sounds of a major battle!

Afterwards, I relax at great banquets, enjoying the merry tittle tattle!

For I am a great warrior prince, the famous, indeed infamous, Black Prince!

Of course my actions incur great expense, and of its justification to others, I have no desire to convince!’

These poor decisions drove the nobles of Aquitaine into asking King Charles V of France, who had ascended the throne in 1364, for help.

The coronation of Charles V, King of France.

King Charles requested that the Black Prince come to Paris to explain himself. His reply was somewhat less than diplomatic.

‘Yes, I will come to see you, but only with an army of 60,000 men strong!

Then you may inform me of what I am doing that is so very wrong!’

Realising that the Black Prince was highly unpopular with the people of Aquitaine, Charles discerned a most pleasing opportunity. Given these circumstances, he had a strong chance of reversing England’s gains in France, made at his father’s expense. Greatly encouraged, Charles took the plunge and invaded Aquitaine in 1369.

The year also brought further bad news for Edward III, his beloved queen, Philippa of Hainhault, fell ill and died in August. For the king there would, henceforth, be little in which to rejoice; it appeared to be the beginning of the end for Edward.