Shakespeare's Kings (33 page)

Meanwhile the common people, too, flocked to his banner, as well they might - for his easy charm was a far cry from Richard's cold and haughty majesty.

. . . How he did seem to dive into their hearts

With humble and familiar courtesy;

What reverence he did throw away on slaves,

Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
...

Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;

A brace of draymen bid God speed him well,

And had the tribute of his supple knee,

With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends' -

As were our England in reversion his,

And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
¹

Such were their numbers, indeed, and so rapidly did they increase as Bolingbroke continued his march
through Derby, Leicester, Kenil
worth, Evesham and Gloucester to Berkeley
Castle
,
²
that they proved impossible to feed: the vast majority were sent back to their homes.

The Duke of York, as Keeper of the Realm, was his usual indecisive and ineffectual self. Now fifty-eight, a mild, ge
ntle
figure who, according to Holinshed, 'wished that the state of the commonwealth might have been redressed without losse of any man's life', he had certainly given Richard less trouble than either Gaunt or Gloucester, if only because he was incapable of any kind of initiative. The least able of all Edward Ill's sons, at this moment of crisis he seems to have limited his activity to transferring the government from London — the loyalty of whose citizens could never be trusted - to St Albans, mobilizing what troops he could and sending urgent messages to the King to return at once. He and his council then headed westward to meet him, only to find

the
rebel
army
bearing
down
upon
them.
The
Earl
of
Wiltshire,
with Bushey
and
Green
-
Sir
William
Bagot
had
already
fled
to
Cheshire
-made
for
Bristol
to
organize
resistance
there;
but
York
and
the
rest
of his
colleagues
sought
refuge
at
Berkeley
-
an
inauspicious
choice, perhaps,
since
it
was
the
scene
of
Edward
II's
murder
in
1327
-
where, when
the
Duke
of
Lancaster
arrived
on
27
July,
they
instantly
submitted. (The
conversation
between
Lancaster
and
York
in
Il.iii
is
of
course invented.)
The
two
then
hurried
on
together
to
Bristol,
where
York was
obliged
to
order
the
surrender
of
the
castle
.
Wiltshire
-
who, somewhat
surprisingly,
appears
nowhere
in
Shakespeare's
play
-Bushey and
Green
were
arrested
and
summarily
executed,
their
heads
being sent
to
adorn
the
gates
of
London,
York
and
Bristol
respectively.
¹

Two
days
before,
on
the
27th,
the
King
had
left
Ireland.
Despite
-or
perhaps
partly
because
of
—
an
enormous
retinue,
he
had
achieved nothing;
the
'rough
rug-headed
kerns',
whose
guerrilla
tactics
had caused
havoc
among
his
troops
on
their
march
from
Waterford
through Wicklow
to
Dublin,
had
refused
either
to
submit
or
to
meet
the
army in
pitched
Battle
.
At
Dublin
Richard
had
offered
a
reward
for
the capture
of
MacMurrough;
but
there
were
no
takers,
and
he
soon
retraced his
steps
to
Waterford,
where
the
news
of
Lancaster's
invasion
awaited him.
At
once
he
gave
orders
for
departure;
unfortunately
he
listened
to the
treacherous
advice
of
Albemarle,
who
had
seen
clearly
enough
how things
were
going
and
had
secretl
y
cast
in
his
lot
with
Lancaster.
Realizing that
the
longer
Richard
could
be
kept
out
of
England
the
better,
he cleverly
persuaded
the
King
to
split
his
army,
sending
Salisbury
ahead with
an
advance
guard
to
raise
more
troops
in
North
Wales
while
he himself
with
the
rest
of
his
men
took
the
direct
route
across
the
Irish
Sea.

It
was
a
disastrous
decision.
The
King
landed
at
Haverfordwest
and lost
several
days
in
an
unsuccessful
attempt
to
find
reinforcements
in Glamorgan,
before
jettisoning
his
by
now
totally
demoralized
army with
most
of
his
baggage
and
hastening
north
towards
Chester,
which he
believed
as
always
to
v
be
loyal.
But
he
had
wasted
too
much
time. Bolingbroke
had
preceded
him;
and
when
Richard
met
Salisbury
at Conway
Castle
on
11
August
it
was
to
learn
that
the
Duke
of
Lancaster

1.
There is no evidence to support Bolingbroke's castigation of Bushey and Green in Ill.i, with its mysterious suggestion that the latter had 'made a divorce' between Richard and Queen Isabelle.

was
already
in
possession
of
the
city,
where
he
had
just
executed
the royal
representative.
And
there
was
worse
news
to
come:
Salisbury's northern
army,
believing
widespread
rumours
that
the
King
was
already dead,
had
melted
away.
Gone
too
were
Richard's
erstwhile
friends Worcester
and
-
though
in
the
play
he
remains
loyal
-
Albemarle.
Even now
the
situation
was
not
entirely
hopeless.
There
were
friendly
ships in
the
harbour,
in
any
one
of
which
he
could
have
slipped
away
-
to Ireland,
to
his
native
Bordeaux
or
even
to
the
court
of
his
father-in-law in
Paris.
But
he
no
longer
knew
whom
to
trust;
and
when
Northumberland
and
Archbishop
Arundel
appeared
at
the
gates
and
requested
an audience,
he
granted
it
at
once.

The
terms
offered
by
Henry
Bolingbroke
seemed
reasonable
enough. The
Lancastrian
inheritance
was
to
be
restored;
Bolingbroke's
claim
to the
hereditary
Stewardship
of
England
was
to
be
submitted
to
a
full Parliament,
free
of
royal
control;
and
five
unnamed
counsellors
were to
be
surrendered
for
trial.
Northumberland
-
although,
significantly, not
Arundel
-
swore
on
the
host
that
the
King
should
retain
his
royal dignity
and
power,
and
that
the
Duke
of
Lancaster
would
observe
the terms
as
agreed;
and
Richard
voluntarily
left
Conway
with
about
twenty of
his
men
to
meet
his
cousin
before
returning,
as
he
thought,
by
easy stages
to
London.
Alas,
he
had
given
his
enemies
more
credit
than
they deserved.
Some
six
miles
from
the
mouth
of
the
river
Conway
the coastal
path
passes
over
a
precipitous
headland
named
Penmaenrhos. Here
he
fell
into
an
ambush
-
almost
certainly
set
by
Northumberland himself,
though
the
faithless
Earl
subsequently
denied
all
knowledge
of it
-
and
was
carried
off
to
Flint
Castle,
where
Henry
was
waiting. Though
still
King,
he
was
now
a
prisoner
of
the
Duke
of
Lancaster, with
no
alternative
but
to
do
his
bidding: