The Last Plantagenets (16 page)

The Peasants’ Revolt made it necessary to postpone the wedding. The English ambassadors remained in Prague and so missed the opportunity of playing a part in that dramatic page in English history. Belated reports reached them and it may be taken for granted that Sir Simon Burley missed no chance to let the anxious princess know of the remarkable role her intended husband had played. The delay had one advantage. It gave the little Anne a chance to achieve her fifteenth birthday, the earliest age at which her family would part with her.

It was a large and picturesque party which set out. The Duke of Saxony and his duchess were in charge and there was a long train of Czech knights and ladies in waiting, as well as a very large number of servants, for the practical Bohemians were not yet convinced that the country to which their princess was being taken was quite civilized enough to provide properly for her comfort and well-being. They left under another, and greater, cloud of apprehension. The agents they maintained in France (espionage was as fine an art then as it is today, even perhaps a shade more subtle) had discovered that Charles V of France was in no mood to let Anne reach England. He was planning to patrol the waters of the Channel with a fleet of battleships, under stern orders to secure possession of the person of the princess and send her to his court.

The French king, as already explained, had wanted Anne as a wife for his eldest son, a boy of eleven years. Even though that plan had fallen through, he was bitterly determined that she was
not
to become the bride of Richard of England. Such a match would completely upset his plans to weaken the relationship between the island kingdom and the wealthy cities of Flanders. By the time the nuptial party reached Brussels, where the bride was to visit her uncle and aunt of Brabant, the French fleet, stripped for action and in fighting mood, was plying up
and down the coast and preventing any ships from crossing the Channel. No steps had been taken to clear the path, for there was not an English sail on the horizon.

Under the circumstances, Anne’s uncle Wenceslaus sent two envoys to Paris, the lords of Rousselaus and Bousquetion, to protest the French action. King Charles, it developed, was quite ill when they arrived. He had been an able ruler and had been responsible for the recovery of much French territory in the preceding ten years. But, with death staring him in the face, the need to continue rigid diplomatic measures grew less and less urgent. He listened to the Flemish ambassadors without making much effort to combat their views. Finally he gave vent to a deep sigh.

“So be it,” he said. “I shall order my vessels back to port. I do this out of love for my cousin Anne. Not,” he added, with a resurgence of his old fire, “out of regard or consideration for the King of England.”

He died on September 16 while the bridal party still lingered at Brussels.

As soon as word arrived that the coast was clear, the final stages of the journey were begun. Escorted by a large company of her own countrymen, including one hundred men-at-arms, they traveled down toward the waters which separated the Low Countries from England. There was a short delay at Bruges because the Earl of Flanders had arranged entertainments which lasted three days. At Gravelines an English escort awaited them, made up of 500 spears and an equal number of those most dreaded of battle troops, the English archers. They progressed to Calais where, at last, an English fleet awaited them. The order of things on the Strait of Dover had been reversed. The French flag no longer flew on any craft within sight, but the leopards of England were everywhere.

They had to wait for favorable winds but finally, on the morning of Wednesday, December 18, the daughter of the Caesars was escorted up a gangplank covered with velvet and ankle deep with English roses. The convoy reached Dover the same day.

A most strange and tragic occurrence followed the safe landing of the princess. She had no sooner set foot on English soil than the waters of the Strait were so violently agitated that all the ships were tossed about in the wildest confusion. Some collided and were so badly damaged that they sank, including the one on which she had sailed. The frightened princess saw it go down under the rush of waters.

This unusual convulsion of nature did not lend itself to any reasonable explanation. There had been little wind, not enough certainly to create such havoc. The angry waves soon subsided, although the flow of waters
between Dover and Calais continued to carry all traffic before it. Mariners had no explanation to give. Never had they seen the like before. Scientists thought of many possible reasons but none of them was in any sense acceptable. It was even believed by the populace that a huge sea serpent had made its way through the Strait and had agitated the waters with the lash of a mighty tail.

All agreed on one point, that it was an omen. But was it an omen of good fortune or of bad?

Despite the enthusiasm with which the young princess was received in England and the warm liking for her which developed at once, there has been a general tendency to deny her a share of beauty. This has been due, apparently, to the lack of any mention of personal pulchritude in the exchange of official letters prior to the final settlement. Richard, it was therein stated, was requesting her hand because of her nobility of birth and her gentleness of character. There is also the evidence of the only likeness of her in existence, the monument in Westminster Abbey. It should be pointed out that the art of the portrait painter was not successfully practiced in England through the Middle Ages. So pedestrian were the efforts of those who chiseled out of stone the figures on the tombs of monarchs of the day and their wives that it is unfair to draw any conclusions from them. The tools of the sculptors seemed to fall into a groove and the poor ladies have come down to posterity in one familiar guise: eyes reasonably far apart, noses long and thin, mouths tiny and compressed, chins rounded. Isabella, the French princess whose voluptuous charms created so much havoc, is depicted as of strong character but with no hint of her fatal beauty. Edward I’s beloved Eleanor of Castile looks sly. Isabella of Angoulême, wife of the infamous John and widely acclaimed the most lovely woman in Europe, is given a bumpkin fullness of face. Even Adelicia of Louvain, the snow-white princess who became Henry I’s second wife, appears pudgy and spinsterish. On the other hand, poor Berengaria, neglected wife of the mighty Richard
Coeur de Lion
, who was never considered a beauty, is made to appear bright and vivacious and decidedly pretty in a dark-eyed way.

To criticize the young king’s fifteen-year-old bride on such grounds seems unfair. Richard conceived an immediate liking for her, one which grew with the years and became an infatuation. Even if Anne could not be called beautiful in a classic sense, she possessed a charm and grace which more than compensated.

After three days of rest at Dover, the bridal party took horse for Canterbury. This provided the first opportunity for the display of an innovation which would be accepted by all the ladies of England and would remain in common usage for a matter of six centuries. The princess rode sidesaddle.

Up to this time, ladies had ridden astride. No efforts seem to have been made to lend any grace or comfort to this means of travel. The ladies tucked their skirts up behind them and encased their legs and feet in detached garments somewhat on the order of shawls, invariably arriving at their destination in a rumpled and exhausted condition. There was immediate curiosity when it was seen that the princess sat sideways on an entirely new kind of equipment. A rest was suspended from the right of the saddle, which was large enough to accommodate both feet of the rider. Anne allowed only her right foot to touch the rest, and that lightly, while her left knee was raised gracefully above the level of the saddle. English ladies accepted this new and very feminine idea almost immediately and for long centuries continued to ride and hunt and hawk in this less secure but more ladylike position, until in the fullness of time they attained the emancipation of riding trousers.

Another innovation was noticed as soon as the princess was escorted decorously into Canterbury. She was wearing the great horned headgear that was in general use on the continent. Nothing good could be said of this absurdity except that the style had been conceived in France and accepted everywhere. It stood two feet in height and had a corresponding width, the material being suspended on wires. It made the wearers look like birds of prey, but again the ladies of England, determined not to appear old-fashioned, fell into line. Later they accepted the even more exaggerated hennin.

John of Gaunt had been forced to reconcile himself to a new perspective by what happened during the Peasants’ Revolt. The hatred for him which had been displayed by the yeomen in arms had been an eye opener. He had been aware before that he lacked the good will of the Londoners and had brushed it aside with lofty pride, but the rage and thoroughness with which Wat the Tyler’s men had destroyed his beautiful and most prized possession, the Savoy, had made him realize, perhaps for the first time, that his unpopularity was deep and widespread. He had remained in Scotland after the rebellion subsided in the hope of quelling the tension there and he had even found it advisable to ask Richard for a safe conduct to use in returning to London.

Under ordinary circumstances he would have acted as the king’s deputy in welcoming the princess when her train arrived at Canterbury. His concern over the hostility of the public was such that he decided
not to go, and the youngest of the royal uncles, Thomas of Woodstock, went to the cathedral city in his stead.

Thomas of Woodstock had shown no trace of liking for Richard from the first. He was a man of furious pride and a degree of self-esteem which made him resent the occupation of the throne by a boy who seemed to him weak and effeminate. However, he carried out his duties as the representative of the royal family by receiving the princess with the customary warmth and courtesy. This attitude was not maintained long, however, for he was soon back to his more familiar role as personal faultfinder.

London had not had time to recover from the terrors of the occupation. The face of the city still wore, like pockmarks, the blackened gaps opened by the fires. Never before had there been so many rotting heads raised above London Bridge. Perhaps it was a natural reaction from so much fear that the citizens now showed great warmth and ostentation in welcoming the girl queen. They met the escorting train at Blackheath, which had been cleared of all traces of the peasant occupation and would never again seem to echo with the voice of John Ball. The worthy burghers were out in great numbers and were giving a display of wealth which must have reassured the attendants of Anne who had more than half expected to find England barbarous and lacking in culture. The men of the guilds rode spirited steeds, their beards were oiled and curled, their cloaks were of velvet and cloth of gold, their hats were heavy with bobbing plumes. The goldsmiths alone were out to the number of seven score, and the other wealthy companies were equally well represented.

The streets of London blazed with flags, there were decorated booths at all crossings, and fountains ran with wine. Beautiful girls showered bouquets on the young couple and danced in front of their horses, strewing the path with yellow flowers like florins.

The cheeks of the little princess were pink with excitement as she rode beside the handsome king and she must have been thinking that all her dreams were coming true. It would be easy to love her royal husband and to respect and like the people among whom she would spend the balance of her life.

The wedding took place on January 14 at St. Stephen’s Chapel in Westminster and her coronation followed in eight days, both events being conducted with great pomp and circumstance. In the meantime, Anne’s Bohemian escort had returned to the continent, leaving only her immediate attendants and her personal servants, still a considerable train.

The little queen was made a member of the Order of the Garter,
wearing a robe of violet and a hood lined with scarlet silk. Even in such fine raiment she was dimmed by the grandeur of Richard who wore his famous coat sparkling with jewels, which was reputed to have cost 30,000 marks. The king did not seem at all perturbed that to pay the costs of the ceremonies it had been necessary to pawn the jewels of Aquitaine, which had belonged to the Crown since Eleanor of that rich duchy had married Henry II, the first of the English Plantagenets. He was completely his grandfather in this respect. The revenues of the Crown were to be spent as lavishly as he might desire.

Anne was too happy to feel any regrets that her royal spouse outshone her. Was it not, after all, a law of nature that the male bird had the richest colors and the most spectacular plumes? From the very beginning Anne was a perfect wife. She wanted Richard to be happy and her attitude was always one of complaisance and agreement.

As she understood three languages, as well as a smattering of English, she was undoubtedly the most learned member to join the Order of the Garter.

The new queen seems to have reached a quick and cordial understanding with the queen mother. The latter had as good reason for jealousy as any mother-in-law, for up to this point she had been holding Richard in leading strings and her influence had been manifest in everything. Not only did she face the certainty of slipping back to second place but a third of the income from the princedom of Wales, which had been set aside for her maintenance when the Black Prince died, had to be diverted to the holdings of the new queen. Not that Joan would feel the loss to any extent. She had been a very wealthy widow when she married Richard’s father and her estates had steadily increased. In addition to the royal castle of Wallingford, which had been assigned to her, she owned manors in twenty-six counties and so, whenever she went on her travels, she could sleep every night in a home of her own.