12

The King’s Mother
1377–1385

Many great things were hoped for in the time of this Richard’s reign.

Adam Usk

Richard’s succession was heralded with joy and his coronation was held on Thursday 16 July 1377, just three weeks after his grandfather’s death and eleven days after Edward III’s funeral was held at Westminster Abbey on 5 July.¹ Hopes and expectations of the young boy were high. Once Richard was safely crowned, what part would Joan play, and how would his accession change her position? Would she retire gracefully, or remain at the centre of affairs? Crucially, Richard was only ten years old, and his youth, and vulnerability, would be a decisive factor in her decisions. Although he would be surrounded by powerful people anxious to guide and influence him, he would need protection from those ambitious for their own interests. This included his father’s family, in particular his uncles. What place would Richard’s half-brothers and sisters have in the new regime, and would Joan encourage him to enhance their standing?

Richard had accompanied the old king’s cortege as it made its solemn procession from Sheen to Westminster, stopping overnight at Wandsworth and Southwark.² Then it was his turn to be the centre of attention and, on the eve of the coronation, Richard slowly travelled from the Tower to Westminster through Cheapside, Fleet Street and down the Strand past the Savoy Palace. The city was decorated with gold and silver, with numerous bright silk banners above a series of newly constructed displays designed to entertain and amaze the crowds. The streets were thronged with well-wishers, with ample supplies of refreshments, provided in ingenious ways, with wine pouring out of the pipes of an aqueduct and from parts of the tower constructed in the market at Cheapside, and in such abundance that the wine lasted for over three hours. Preceding the procession were flute players, trumpeters, drummers and others musicians, all plying their instruments, proudly announcing the arrival of the young king. Trumpeters were posted by the Londoners above the aqueduct and at the tower, to blow their horns as the king arrived, maidens dressed in white blew gold petals and tossed imitation gold coins at the young king as he passed. Leading the procession were groups of loyal citizens, each wearing their own matching and differently coloured apparel, from Gascony as well as from the different London wards, followed by the nobility in order of seniority, earls, barons and knights, all attired in white, signifying innocence, in honour of Richard, making a blaze of colour and magnificence.³ Each group had their own trumpeter. Henry Percy, the Marshal of England, and Gaunt as steward of England, rode great chargers, accompanied by men from their retinue, clearing a path for the king. Richard rode behind, splendidly attired in regal robes, with his tutor Simon Burley beside him, carrying his sword, while his father’s squire, Nicholas Bond, held the horse’s reins. The entire cavalcade took over three hours to process their way to Westminster. It was a day of revelry and joy, splendid, festive and clamorously noisy, all in honour of the small boy described by the chronicler Adam of Usk as ‘fair among men as another Absalom’.⁴

Richard and Joan spent the night in Westminster Palace. Early on the following morning the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, accompanied by the senior bishops, arrived to escort their young charge to the church of St Peter in the abbey itself for the coronation service. The way was led by the three great offices of state: the steward, marshal and constable – Gaunt, Percy and Thomas of Woodstock – all walking on foot, followed by the senior clergy and nobility. The service was conducted by Sudbury, and everyone of importance attended. William Montague, Joan’s erstwhile husband, carried one of the ceremonial vestments. The coronation ceremony took place first, followed by a Mass. Once the service was concluded, and the newly crowned king acclaimed, a long state banquet followed. Richard was so exhausted he was carried back to the palace afterwards by Simon Burley, losing a shoe in the process. The whole affair went smoothly, watched over and controlled by Gaunt’s benevolent, omnipotent presence. Gaunt had arranged and managed the proceedings entirely. No one could doubt his right to do so, and there was no one more suitable. Gaunt was the most senior nobleman and the king’s eldest uncle; as Earl of Leicester he was the king’s steward, as Duke of Lancaster he had the right to carry the king’s principal sword and as Earl of Lincoln he was entitled to carve for the king at the coronation banquet. During the coronation itself he delegated the task of carrying the sword to his son Henry of Bolingbroke, and the Earl of Stafford cut Richard’s meat and bread at the table at Westminster hall.⁵ Eventually the long day ended, as Walsingham recorded: ‘It was a day of joy and gladness … the long awaited day of the renewal of peace and of the laws of the land, long exiled by the weakness of an aged king and the greed of his courtiers and servants.’⁶

For Joan, watching proudly as her youngest child swore his solemn oath and was proclaimed king, it was a day of great emotion, her joy mixed with sadness. Once she had anticipated that this day would belong to the prince, her husband; now it was their son who stood there, dressed in his coronation finery, barely old enough to understand the proceedings. Gaunt is rightly credited with the day’s success, but there can be no doubt that he consulted and conferred with Joan at every opportunity and that her views would have been taken into account. It was an event for which both had planned over many months, working together in harmony, and considerable thought was given to all aspects of the event. Most of the preparations dealt with the practicalities of the event, as the actual ceremony itself was based on long-standing tradition. Nevertheless two small, seemingly innocuous changes were made affecting the coronation oath, and Joan’s influence may well have been responsible for one of these. The coronation oath taken by Richard was essentially the same as that sworn by his grandfather, Edward III, and his great-grandfather Edward II; Richard swore to uphold the laws and customs of his ancestors, to protect the Church and the clergy, to do justice to all and to uphold the laws which the people chose. Traditionally the Archbishop of Canterbury presented the king to the congregation before the oath was taken, asking them to confirm their consent. In theory, at least, this format gave the assembly an opportunity to refuse, although it was extremely unlikely and had never happened. Richard took the oath first, and so was presented to the congregation as their king, with their positive response acting as an affirmation of his kingship. The effect of this change was to remove any elective element from the coronation while emphasising the legitimacy of his succession.⁷ The long-standing concern regarding the legal validity of the prince’s marriage to Joan probably explains the purpose behind this alteration, providing a powerful and incontrovertible barrier to anyone who might seek to challenge Richard’s right of succession.⁸ The other change was to the wording of one clause of the oath, inserting the words ‘just and reasonably’ to describe the laws chosen by the people. This clause was the most restrictive of the king’s powers and had been added in 1307 when Edward II succeeded his father. The qualification would give the king a means to limit its effect on his powers. Gaunt was careful to ensure that a full record was kept of the coronation and its proceedings, and in his capacity as steward of England he delivered the record to chancery with his own hands.⁹ The change made to the order of the oath was emphasised at the first parliament of the new reign when the Archbishop of Canterbury, in his opening speech on 13 October, stated that Richard was king ‘not by election nor by any other way but by lawful right of inheritance’.

A new king and a new regime afforded the opportunity to create new members of the nobility, both to reward loyal and faithful friends and to bolster support for Richard. Four new earls were created just before the banquet held after the coronation ceremony, the greatest number to be so awarded since 1337, and again this was a staged and planned event. Though the titles were conferred by Richard he would have been prompted in their selection by those closest to him, almost certainly his uncle and his mother. His uncle Thomas of Woodstock was created Earl of Buckingham, Richard’s first tutor Guichard d’Angle became Earl of Huntingdon, while Gaunt’s friends and loyal supporters Henry Percy and Thomas Mowbray became respectively Earl of Northumberland and Nottingham. The elevation of d’Angle to a lifetime-only peerage was the most personal award, reflecting the regard with which he had been held by Richard’s parents while he had served them as the boy’s tutor, and was unlikely to be contentious as it was generally recognised as a just reward for his services to the young king. Joan’s hand in his selection, supported by Gaunt, seems self-evident. Thomas of Woodstock was the only one of Edward III’s sons who had not been granted an earldom in his father’s lifetime. Both d’Angle and Thomas were also given an income of £1,000 a year to support their new status, a thoughtful addition as their newly created earldoms did not bring income and estates with them. Thomas was an ambitious and able young man, and while there was no reason to doubt his loyalty, with his nephew’s accession it was natural and prudent to give him the status to which he was entitled by birth. Gaunt was anxious to promote family solidarity, and Joan had her father’s experience to warn her of the dangers of overlooking royal relations. Henry Percy and Thomas Mowbray were wealthy and powerful northern barons who had proved their loyalty to the Crown during Edward III’s last years, and their promotion was accepted with equanimity despite their connections with Gaunt and the latter’s continuing unpopularity.

Richard was only ten years old. Clearly he was not old enough to direct his own household unassisted, let alone govern the country. The crown had passed to a minor only twice before; more than 150 years earlier in 1216 when King John died, leaving his nine-year-old son Henry to succeed him, and when Edward III had replaced his father in 1327 following Edward II’s deposition. In 1216 the country had been in a state of civil war, which the death of King John halted but did not extinguish. There was a paramount need for a strong, authoritative figure to protect the royal interest, and this was provided by William Marshal, who became regent. The obvious candidate to be regent now was John of Gaunt, as the most powerful and richest noble, and the king’s most senior uncle. But Gaunt was deeply unpopular, and he himself realised that any authority wielded by him in Richard’s name would potentially harm the young king. Neither of his brothers would have been thought suitable candidates, as Edmund of Langley and Thomas of Woodstock lacked Gaunt’s ability, gravitas and authority. Instead, the device to cover the day-to-day running of the country was the establishment of a council of twelve leading peers, with each rank represented: two earls, two barons, two prelates, two bannerets and four knights. This was similar to the council set up in 1327 to rule in the young Edward III’s name after his father was removed from the throne.

What role could, or should, Joan take? Henry III’s mother, the dowager queen Isabella of Angoulême, found she had no role in the new regime, and returned to France, leaving her son in the regent’s care. This was not an option for Joan. In 1327, when Edward III had been crowned at the age of fourteen, it had been a theatrical and carefully stage-managed action to legitimise the removal of his father Edward II from the throne and to mask the seizure of power by his mother Isabella and her lover Roger Mortimer. Joan’s situation was hardly comparable; nevertheless, after Richard’s accession her position did subtly and irrevocably change. Although she had been one of the most important women at court for many years she was now the most senior and would remain so until her son married. In some respects there was no role model for her to follow as the king’s mother. The precedents of Queen Isabella, and Henry III’s mother, Isabella of Angoulême, were of limited value in guiding her. They had both been foreign princesses as well as queens, enjoying an independent authority and status Joan lacked. Yet Joan had advantages they did not have. The country was more stable and united in 1377 than it had been in either 1216 or 1327, and Joan was on extremely good terms with the strongest magnate in the land, John of Gaunt. Richard was very close to his mother and, aged ten, was rather younger than Edward III had been when he succeeded to the throne, and it is unlikely he would have resented her influence in the way Edward III had done with his mother. As the prince’s wife she had gradually earned respect and affection, and she was genuinely universally well regarded by 1377. In addition, unlike her mother-in-law Queen Philippa and Edward III’s mother Isabella, Joan was independently wealthy and had no need of income from the Crown to maintain a lifestyle commensurate with her status. Her position, greatly enhanced now that Richard was king, coupled with her wealth, gave her considerable potential to extend her influence. Queen Isabella had taken advantage of Edward III’s minority to exercise power in the political arena as well as enhancing her own wealth, and rewarded her family and her friends. Arguably Joan could have done likewise. But Joan was a completely different personality and had absolutely no intention of repeating Isabella’s example. In 1377 there were still some who remembered this time, and even those who had been born afterwards had heard and seen the consequences of Isabella’s use of power, enriching herself and her lover, usurping the authority of the Crown for her own interests. As Joan knew, women were generally expected to play a passive role, and be of no political consequence. The idea that Joan might become regent for her son was never entertained, and it was certainly not one that she herself ever put forward.

As Richard had his powerful uncle to protect him, and a council to rule for him, Joan could have decided at this stage to retire from court. Now that Richard was king there could be no question of him continuing to live in his mother’s household, or staying resident largely in Kennington as he had done in the months after his father’s death. He was naturally expected to live in the royal palaces with his own household and retinue. Wallingford was Joan’s favourite home and not too far from court, so that it would have been possible for her to visit easily whenever she wanted or was required to do so. Joan may well have considered it, and secured the appointment of Aubrey de Vere to be steward of the castle in October 1377.¹⁰ But Richard was still very young and, despite the acclamation with which his accession had been greeted, and the support of his uncle Gaunt, his position was by no means secure. Joan did not yet feel that she wanted to leave him. Her overriding concern seems to have been to protect Richard and provide him with support. As the king’s mother Joan had enormous influence, but she was so discreet in exercising it that it is hard to discern. Joan was clearly still wary of attracting attention in any way which might be detrimental to Richard and had no intention of becoming openly associated with the politics of the new regime. However, she was instrumental in enabling the appointment of many of those who would serve her son in his household. Inevitably there were many courtiers seeking positions close to the new king to further their own interests, and some who would see it as their right to do so by virtue of their rank. It was important for Joan that her son was surrounded by familiar, trusted retainers who would have his interests at heart rather than their own, and to a large extent she was able to ensure this. The emotional attachment between Richard and his tutor, Simon Burley, was strong, but now that Richard was king their time together would inevitably become more limited. On the day of his coronation Richard appointed Simon Burley master of falcons and keeper of the mews at Charing Cross, and in August he was made constable of Windsor Castle and given responsibility for looking after Kennington Palace.¹¹ In addition, Burley was appointed a chamber knight. These appointments were both a reward and ensured that Burley would have responsibilities which would keep him close to the king, even when he no longer needed as a tutor. The personal chamber of the king, where he slept, was guarded by chamber knights acting as bodyguards. They, and the chamber squires, would spend most of their time close to Richard. Although there is no direct evidence showing Joan was responsible for their appointment, there can be no doubt that she was behind it. Apart from Simon Burley, the other chamber knights appointed to serve Richard were mainly knights whom he had known from early childhood, who had served his father and retained a close bond with Joan: Richard’s first tutor Richard Abberbury, Nicholas Bond, Lewis Clifford, Aubrey de Vere, William Beauchamp (married to Thomas Holand’s sister-in-law, Joan, daughter of Richard, Earl of Arundel), William Neville, Baldwin Bereford, John Burley, Peter Courtenay, Nicholas Sarnesfield, as well as his half-brother John Holand, and John Holand’s erstwhile guardian John Hay. In addition, nearly half of Richard’s chamber squires (nine of nineteen) were also former servants of his father.¹² Richard Stury, another trusted knight and already a chamber knight under Edward III, continued in office.¹³ Later William Neville and John Clanvowe, two other knights in the same circle, also became chamber knights.¹⁴ All received allowances and fees as members of the household, and the chamber knights were granted annuities; Clanvowe and Neville each received 100 marks a year in May 1381.¹⁵ Among the clerks entering Richard’s service were several old servants of his father, such as William Packington (Joan’s receiver), Reginald Hilton, Alan Stokes (the prince’s receiver), John Fordham (the prince’s secretary), and, significantly, Robert Braybrooke, who was appointed Richard’s secretary on 20 August 1377.¹⁶

As the senior female member of the court Joan’s own taste and preferences would undoubtedly have influenced the tone of the new court, but it is surprisingly difficult to ascertain these. This is in part due to the fact that there are no personal or financial records to indicate how Joan preferred to spend her time, and partly also to her success in adopting a discreet presence. However, it can hardly be a coincidence that many of the knights Joan chose to keep close to her were men with sophisticated literary taste. Simon Burley, Lewis Clifford, Richard Stury and Philip la Vache (later married to Lewis Clifford’s daughter Elizabeth) were all enthusiastic book owners, of both serious-minded reading and courtly romances like The Romance of the Rose, while John Clanvowe wrote verse in English (his one surviving work is The Book of Cupid, originally thought to have been written by Chaucer¹⁷), and Sir John Montague (William Montague’s cousin, who had been one of the prince’s knights and continued in Richard’s service, and became steward of the household in October 1381) wrote verses in French.¹⁸ Some of them were close friends of Geoffrey Chaucer, whom Joan would have known well. As a young man Chaucer had held a position in the household of Elizabeth de Burgh (Prince Lionel’s first wife), before joining the court as a squire, and he had gone to France on the ill-fated Rheims campaign in 1369, where he was captured. He was married to Philippa de Roet, whose sister Katherine Swynford had become governess to John of Gaunt’s daughters, and then his mistress. Shortly after Richard’s accession to the throne, in 1378, Chaucer had been appointed to be one of the confidential marriage commissioners negotiating the young king’s marriage.¹⁹ Although Chaucer was by this time a professional royal servant with considerable experience, he would hardly have achieved this appointment to a matter of such importance to Joan without her approval. Although there is no record of Joan having promoted or patronised Chaucer, or of his having dedicated any of his writings to her, it seems highly likely that Joan would have encouraged and welcomed his attendance at her young son’s court, and enjoyed his work when he read them out to the assembled court.

Joan’s religious views are not clear. The prince had been conventionally religious, patronising several religious foundations, most notably St Albans Abbey, but he had shown a marked devotion to the Trinity. There is no evidence that Joan shared the prince’s interest in the Trinity. The only foundation that Joan is known to have supported is the Benedictine foundation at St Albans, but this does not give any indication of her individual taste, as the abbey enjoyed widespread support among the royal family, having been patronised by Edward III and Queen Philippa as well as the prince, and John of Gaunt was an equally generous patron, giving the monks numerous gifts and making frequent donations.²⁰ Joan’s aunt Blanche Wake and her cousin Margaret, Countess of Norfolk, were also patrons.²¹ The abbot, Thomas de la Mare, had been a personal friend of the prince, and was on similarly good terms with John of Gaunt. In supporting St Albans Joan was doing no more than was expected of her, and it is likely that she was also on good terms with de la Mare as she stayed at the abbey on several occasions after the prince’s death. The abbey kept a careful list of its benefactors, the more important beautifully illustrated in the Liber Benefactorum, now in the British Library. This contains an image of Joan, indicating that they considered her one of their more important patrons, although this may have had more to do with her status as Princess of Wales than with the generosity she displayed towards them.

There is some evidence of a link between Joan and the Franciscan order, starting with the reinterment of Thomas Holand in the Franciscan church at Stamford (though she may simply have been carrying out his wishes), and in 1380 an astronomical calendar was composed by John Somer, a Franciscan, at the bidding of Thomas Kingsbury, provincial of the Franciscans, ‘at the request of the most noble lady, Joan Princess of Wales’.²² The calendar contained an algorism table, a table of dominical letters, feast days, a calendar of English saints, ruling planets, signs of the zodiac, a table of solar and lunar eclipses, and tables of conjunctions covering the period 1387 to 1462. The work in astrology was used in medical diagnosis and treatment and such works had become fashionably popular among the wealthy (John of Gaunt, for example, later commissioned a similar work).²³ The Franciscans had a greater interest in astrology than most of the other religious orders. Presumably Joan received the work, and perhaps she even commissioned Somer to cast her horoscope, or that of another member of the family, such as Richard, but there is no way of knowing whether she did so, or even if she appreciated the work, and gives little assistance in indicating Joan’s own taste. Joan may simply have been continuing the favour towards the Franciscans exhibited by her grandmother Margaret and her mother-in-law Philippa. It is notable that Joan cannot be associated with the founding of any religious establishment, and that even her public support for St Albans cannot be considered unusual. Unlike her uncle, Thomas Wake, who founded an Augustinian priory at Haltemprice in Yorkshire and a Franciscan house at Ware in Hertfordshire, and her cousin Elizabeth de Burgh, who was famously generous towards several religious houses, as well as founding Clare College, Cambridge, there is no evidence that Joan was a major religious patron of any house.²⁴ Joan did not follow their example, though whether this was because she had no inclination to do so cannot be known.

It is possible that Joan had less conventional views, and there has been speculation that she had considerable sympathy for John Wyclif and the Lollard movement. John Wyclif was an Oxford theologian who was strongly critical of the Church and publicly preached against what he regarded as many corrupt practices, advocating a devout and simple life focussing on faith in Christ. His anti-papal and anti-clerical rhetoric appealed to many of the nobility, including John of Gaunt, and it was Bishop Courtenay’s exposure of Wyclif’s heretical views and attack on them which had sparked the feud between Gaunt and Courtenay in 1377. Joan’s intervention on this occasion was obviously of assistance to Wyclif, but her motive appears to have been a desire to help her brother-in-law rather than an attempt to shield and protect the radical preacher. However, Gaunt was himself a sympathiser, and several of the knights close to Joan were adherents to Wyclif’s ideas – John Clanvowe (who wrote a religious treatise known as The Two Wayswhich implicitly supports Wyclif’s views), Lewis Clifford (who later became a member of Philippe de Mézières’ Order of Passion and remained sympathetic to Wycliffite teaching throughout his life, repeating key sentiments in his will), Richard Stury, William Neville and Thomas Latimer. Although the evidence is inconclusive, it does seem likely that Joan was at least sympathetic. In a papal bull dated May 1377 the Pope issued instructions to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London to warn the king and his sons and specifically ‘his beloved daughter in Christ, the noblewoman Joan, Princess of Aquitaine and Wales’ about Wyclif’s heresies, and in a separate bull he ordered Wyclif’s arrest. Shortly afterwards Joan was writing privately to the Pope.²⁵Although the subject matter of their correspondence is not known the timing is suggestive and quite possibly Joan was sending reassurance of her conformity. Certainly, if Joan shared any of Wyclif’s views she was at pains to conceal this from being generally known. However, when Wyclif was brought for trial before the bishops, Lewis Clifford was sent as a messenger to request that they did not pronounce sentence against him, effectively asking the bishops stay their proceedings. Although Lewis Clifford was also one of Richard’s household knights he was identified with Joan, and sending him with a message which contravened the Pope’s direct instructions was risky. Her intervention, giving Wyclif royal protection, was decisive and secured his release. Once again Joan showed a willingness to take risks where she felt it was important to do so, in order to preserve harmony. It also showed her shrewd sense of judgment, as Walsingham noted that the Londoners were sympathetic to Wyclif on this occasion, and Gaunt at this time was still a supporter. It is possible that she did it out of personal conviction, but in this, as in so much else, Joan was extremely private. In terms of her own personal beliefs, all that can be stated for certain is that she generally behaved in the way expected of her in terms of piety and religious observance, without being identified as a major patroness of any individual foundation, other than the abbey of St Albans.

Family, and personal relationships, were what Joan cared about most and her interest in political affairs was limited to her strong maternal instinct to protect her son. In surrounding Richard with loyal and trusted men who had served his father Joan ensured there was a strong link between his household and the council who governed in his name, as again many of these had also served the prince. In the first three years of Richard’s reign there were three councils, the first being replaced after three months with a second formed at the first parliament held in October 1377, this in turn was superseded by a third council appointed a year later in October 1378 during the parliament held at Gloucester that year. On each change some members were replaced, but the council consistently contained a significant number of former servants of the prince. The first council, appointed on 19 July 1377, included the earls of March and Arundel (Thomas Holand’s father-in-law), Bishop Courtenay, the Bishop of Salisbury (a friend of Gaunt’s), Sir Ralph Ferrers, Sir Roger Beauchamp, Sir John Knyvet and several knights associated with the prince: Hugh Segrave (who had been his steward and then became steward to Joan), William Latimer, John Lord Cobham, Richard Stafford and John Devereux.²⁶ Cobham, Stafford, Segrave and Knyvet were joined by William Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester; John Harewell, Bishop of Bath and Wells (both executors of the prince) and William Ufford and Aubrey de Vere (former members of the prince’s council) in the council formed in October 1378.²⁷ All these men were loyal to the prince and it was natural that they would transfer their loyalty and dedication to his son. Many had also served and had connections with Gaunt.²⁸ This was unlikely to be a coincidence. The presence of so many of the prince’s former servants on the council and their added connection to Gaunt could only be beneficial to Richard. It is even more difficult here to prove that Joan had any involvement, but it seems probable that she was consulted and made her views known, so influencing their selection as council members.

Joan’s influence was not confined to the selection of trusted individuals to serve her son. She knew personally most of those influential in politics, and she had already shown that she could use her charm and tact to smooth working relationships. In this way, she was able to provide a steadying political influence without being directly involved.²⁹ This was particularly important with John of Gaunt. None of Richard’s uncles were included on the councils. This was almost certainly a deliberate omission, and one endorsed, if not suggested, by Gaunt. He and his two brothers were given a quasi-supervisory role by being given authority to oversee cases involving maintenance of quarrels by any of the councillors.³⁰ Gaunt was well aware of his unpopularity and knew his presence could cause divisiveness. Despite the duke’s obvious goodwill towards his nephew there remained those who found it difficult to believe in his sincerity, and unpleasant rumours continued to circulate about him, questioning the motives that lay behind his apparently quiescent and supportive role. Although Gaunt was ambitious and able, powerful and not averse to seizing power when he felt it was his due, he was first and foremost devoted and loyal to his father and older brother, and loved his nephew for their sake; he was also genuinely fond of his sister-in-law and his actions demonstrate that he had the interests of his nephew and his sister-in-law in mind. In 1327 the council had included the young king’s uncles, Joan’s father, Edmund of Woodstock and Thomas of Brotherton, but it had exercised little real authority, fatally weakened by the hold on power retained by Queen Isabella and her lover, neither of whom were on the council. This was not a situation Gaunt chose to emulate, although there were many who believed that Gaunt continued to control the government through his friends. Shortly after the coronation he withdrew from court and retired to his estate at Kenilworth; according to Walsingham, out of pique and because he feared he would be blamed if anything went wrong, after first approving the councillors chosen for the first council.³¹ It is possible he felt that his presence was needed to deal with pressing government business on the Scottish border, where the Scots had used the opportunity of the change of regime to raid Roxburgh. This certainly provided an excuse for his absence, and at an Anglo-Scottish conference held in September he was asked to attend to help settle unresolved border grievances, but this is unlikely to have been the real reason. His self-imposed and immediate withdrawal from the court and the political arena so soon after the coronation was probably manufactured to enable the council to start its work unimpeded by his presence, and he would have discussed this with Joan. It was a further instance of his unequivocal loyalty to his nephew. Nevertheless, Gaunt’s position at court had changed with his nephew’s accession and, although his support was needed it was likely that he would have less influence in the new regime than he had had with his father. He could not necessarily guarantee his friends would continue to occupy influential positions. Henry Percy, for example, resigned his position as marshal just after the coronation, according to Walsingham because he did not want to be humiliated by being forcibly replaced. Joan’s cousin, Margaret Brotherton, now Lady Segrave, was insisting that as her father, Thomas Brotherton, had been hereditary marshal she had the right to appoint a deputy to act for her. In fact, Margaret’s claim was not upheld, and the Earl of Arundel’s brother, Sir John Arundel, was appointed in Percy’s stead. Gaunt also remained deeply unpopular, and his relationship with the City of London was fragile, while the public reconciliation with the Bishop of Winchester had yet to be tested.

Joan’s conciliatory initiative to restore Gaunt’s public reputation and standing was completed at the first parliament of Richard’s reign, held in October 1377. Having returned from the north in time to attend, John of Gaunt was requested by the Commons to act as a liaison between them and the council. In an extraordinary act of theatre, Gaunt took this opportunity to publicly clear his name. Kneeling before his nephew he referred to rumours about his loyalty, saying that he was loyal and

prayed him humbly that he would hear him a little on a weighty matter touching his own person. The commons had chosen him to be one of the lords to consult with them but nothing could be done until he had been excused of these things which had been evilly spoken of him. For, he said, albeit unworthy, he was a king’s son and one of the greatest lords in the kingdom after the king: and what had been so evilly spoken of him could rightly be called plain treason … And if any man were so bold as to charge him with treason or other disloyalty or with anything prejudicial to the realm, he was ready to defend himself with this body as though he were the poorest bachelor in the land.³²

His obviously sincere and moving oratory had the desired effect. Without exception all of the barons and prelates rose to their feet to reassure the duke and protested that none of them believed such rumours. Once again there is no evidence to indicate that Joan had a hand in this, but it is tempting to consider that Gaunt, already grateful to her for the beneficial effects of her mediatory efforts and willing to take her counsel, had taken her advice in adopting such a different approach. His humble, supplicatory stance bore little resemblance to the proud and angry man who had so riled the Good Parliament just two years earlier.

Joan discreetly helped Gaunt in other ways. She would have met his mistress Katherine Swynford in her capacity as governess to his two daughters by Blanche of Lancaster, Philippa and Elizabeth, probably shortly after her return from Aquitaine in 1371. Gaunt’s affair with Katherine is generally considered to have started in the spring of 1372, shortly before his marriage to Constance of Castile, although it did not become public knowledge until 1375. In 1377 the couple’s relationship was extremely strong and Joan would have come to know Katherine quite well, and have known how much Katherine meant to Gaunt. Joan knew Constance from their days in Aquitaine, but there is no evidence to suggest that the two women ever became close. In contrast there is some evidence to suggest that Joan and Katherine may have developed a friendship, and indeed Joan’s own unusual marital history might well have made her more than usually sympathetic to Katherine’s unusual position. On 20 July 1377 Richard II ratified a grant of Gringley and Wheatley to Katherine Swynford, on 21 July he nominated Katherine’s niece Elizabeth Chaucer (eldest daughter of her sister Philippa Chaucer, married to Geoffrey Chaucer) to St Helen’s Priory, Bishopsgate, and on 27 July nominated Margaret Swynford to Barking Abbey.³³ The exact identity of Margaret Swynford is a mystery but the timing of the favour shown to her is suggestive and it does seem probable that she had a connection, albeit unknown, to Katherine. Barking was one of the more prestigious convents and therefore a desirable destination, achievable by Margaret because of her aristocratic connections. Four years later, in 1381, Elizabeth Chaucer became a nun at Barking Abbey, with her admission expenses paid for by Gaunt as part of a larger gift to the abbey.³⁴During the 1370s Katherine bore Gaunt four children – John, Henry, Thomas and Joan – all given the name Beaufort. Joan Beaufort is generally presumed to have been born in 1379, and it is possible that Gaunt had his sister-in-law in mind when choosing the name, and may even have asked Joan to act as godmother to his youngest child.³⁵ As a caring and loving mother herself, with her affection for Gaunt, it is easy to imagine that Joan may have grown fond of Gaunt’s young Beaufort children, and that she and Richard spent time with them.

Richard’s accession to the throne elevated his half-brothers Thomas and John Holand to the status of royal kinsmen, but despite this newly enhanced status neither of them was initially prominent in his affairs. This is perhaps surprising. Thomas was now twenty-seven years old. He had been knighted by his stepfather prior to the Battle of Nájera, and had been a member of his stepfather’s retinue until his death. He had taken part in several campaigns, having served under the Earl of Hereford in 1371 and 1372, under John of Gaunt in Aquitaine in 1373, and then accompanied his brother-in-law John Montfort to Brittany in 1375, presumably competently as he became a knight of the Garter in 1376, but, with no record of an independent command, he does not appear to have inherited his father’s notable military flair.³⁶ As Joan’s heir he would one day become Earl of Kent and inherit all of her very considerable estates, which would make him one of the wealthiest and most powerful of the nobility. In 1377 he was a relatively obscure and modestly endowed young man, his only estates and income being the three manors granted to him on the occasion of his marriage in accordance with the marital agreement reached between his stepfather and his father-in-law, the Earl of Arundel, although his wife Alice had been left 5,000 marks by her father when he died in 1376. (Arundel was probably almost the richest man in England when he died, leaving £29,987 in gold and silver alone in Arundel Castle and total realisable assets of £72,245. He had been a notable moneylender to the Crown; Joan was among his debtors, owing him 1,000 marks when he died, having given him a single nouche as security).³⁷ With Richard’s accession, it would have been a natural and obvious step for the young king to elevate his half-brother to the earldom of Kent, and for Joan to have handed over some of the many Kent estates to her heir. However, this would have put Thomas Holand on a par with Richard’s uncles, in particular with Thomas of Woodstock. Joan, protective of Richard and sensitive of the prince’s brothers, clearly felt that this would not be tactful, and she was careful to ensure this did not happen. Instead, in July 1377, Thomas was given an unremarkable official appointment as custodian of the royal forests south of Trent, replacing Sir John Foxley, a position with administrative and judicial duties which could be delegated (in November Baldwin Bereford was appointed his deputy and probably did the actual work) but which gave Thomas additional income.³⁸ He was not however made a justice of the peace, although some months later he was granted a gift of 100 marks, payable in three instalments between June and November 1378, followed by a further £200 annuity in April 1378.³⁹ It was not until 1380 that Thomas was created Earl of Kent, with the grants being supplemented by additional and substitute rents which, with his own income, were meant to ensure he had annual support in the region of £1,000.⁴⁰ Joan’s influence was clear.

There is nothing to suggest that Thomas resented his mother’s caution. He appears to have been consistently loyal and trustworthy, with a strong sense of family duty, and does not seem to have been a particularly ambitious young man. As the new reign started, he took his place at Richard’s side as part of his entourage (he is known to have been at Sheen with Richard in November 1377), serving in a modest capacity. In the spring of 1378 he served in the fleet in the Channel during the projected French invasion, and with his brother accompanied Gaunt at the unsuccessful siege at St Malo, while in October he was appointed commissioner to treat with the Scots over more breaches of the peace. In time he and Alice would have nine children, all but one growing to adulthood and surviving him: his heir Thomas, Edmund, Eleanor, Joan, Margaret, another Eleanor, Elizabeth and Bridget.⁴¹ The number of children suggests the marriage was a happy one, and the names chosen by Thomas include his father’s and mother’s names, his grandmother’s (Margaret), his mother’s best friend’s (Eleanor), his aunt’s (Elizabeth) and his maternal grandfather’s (Edmund). It was natural and appropriate, and indeed dutiful, for Thomas to name his eldest son after his father, and his second son after his grandfather; he was, after all, succeeding to their inheritance, but the choice of Eleanor twice, and of Elizabeth, suggests further a fond relationship with his mother and her friend, and a respect for his aunt Elizabeth (who retained a dower interest in many of the Kent estates).

John Holand, twenty-five years old in 1377, was, in contrast to his older brother, completely reliant on royal patronage. He was the only one of Joan’s four Holand children who was not yet married, and as a younger son he did not stand to inherit any of his mother’s estates. The prince had taken his stepson under his wing, appointing John Hay his guardian, and ensured he would receive the education commensurate with his background. When the prince returned to England and withdrew from active affairs John had been placed with John of Gaunt, in his retinue. John had a very different personality to Thomas. His future career indicates that he was both ambitious and unscrupulous, with a propensity for getting into trouble, while possessing considerable charm and charisma. Joan clearly had a soft spot for this son, despite the wildness which must have been apparent as he was growing up. On Richard’s accession, John was appointed one of his chamber knights, a prestigious position which brought little income with it. Perhaps Joan hoped that by keeping John close to her she would be able to keep an eye on her son, but the lifestyle did not suit John. Within a few months he returned to John of Gaunt’s retinue and gained his first military experience, accompanying the duke on his abortive siege of St Malo in 1378. In March John received a modest gift from Richard of a £100 annuity, converted into a land grant nine months later when he was given the Berkshire manors of Ardington and Philberds Court at East Hanney, formerly owned by Alice Perrers.⁴²This was followed by the award of a wardship valued at 250 marks and a life grant of some annuities in 1380. Joan was probably relieved that John was back under the watchful eye of her brother-in-law and hopeful that the experience he gained would stand him in good stead and curb his waywardness.

Joan remained close to her daughters. Neither of their marriages had quite turned out as hoped or expected. Joan had become John Montfort’s wife when she was only eight or nine years old and had spent some years apart from her mother when she returned to England in 1366 or 1367. Despite Edward III’s support, the Duke of Brittany had been unable to regain control of his dukedom, and he was forced to remain in exile in England from 1373 to 1379 with his young wife. After the prince’s death he had been granted more property in Norfolk including Queen Isabella’s estate at Castle Rising, Lynn, but the duke had no intention of retiring to the country to take up an English lifestyle.⁴³ Remaining at court, pressing for the support he needed to mount a campaign to restore him to his dukedom, he was happy for his wife to live with her mother. Naturally, Montfort was principally concerned to retain his dukedom, and did not want to remain dependant on the English Crown. At times he found it expedient to ally himself to the French, and on these occasions an English wife was a disadvantage. Their marriage may not have been a particularly happy one; certainly there were no children of the marriage, and the young Joan was apparently reluctant to join her husband in Brittany after his return in August 1379, and could not be persuaded to join him there until 1382.⁴⁴ Similarly, Maud had no children with her husband and, after Courtenay’s death in 1374, rather than retire from court and live on her own estates (three manors had been settled on her at the time of her marriage), Maud preferred to live with her mother as part of her household. Neither of Richard’s half-sisters received any special mark of favour from their little brother when he became king.

Richard’s first Christmas as king was spent at Windsor, in the company of his mother and family, surrounded by the court. The first few months of the reign had not been without incident. On 24 June 1377, just three days after Edward III’s death, the truce agreed with France at Bruges had ended, and the French had taken advantage of Edward III’s death and his grandson’s accession to invade England. Crossing the channel from Calais and Aquitaine, the French had attacked all along the south coast, burning Rye on 29 June then moving on to Rottingdean, Weymouth, Dartmouth, Plymouth, Southampton, Poole and occupying the Isle of Wight in August and September. Local defences proved powerless to prevent the invaders landing, although Walsingham scathingly remarked that the ‘so-called impregnable’ Isle of Wight would not have been captured ‘had its defence been diligently maintained’.⁴⁵ The French had not come equipped to stay, and after burning, plundering and killing, they departed back to France, leaving the coastal towns devastated and counting their dead. This was a national humiliation and left many burning for revenge. But the safety of the realm was not at the forefront of the agenda of Richard’s first parliament, which had assembled on 13 October and lasted till the end of November. Once John of Gaunt had been publicly reconciled the commons had plenty of demands, presenting a petition which included fourteen items taken almost verbatim from the Ordinances of 1311, and insisting that Alice Perrers be tried, pressing for her banishment.⁴⁶ Alice was duly condemned and all her possessions forfeited. Joan was not directly involved but she would have been kept abreast of affairs and may have influenced the choice of the knights deputed to check and make an inventory of the old king’s jewellery and other personal belongings (as two of the knights were long-standing retainers Richard Abberbury and Nicholas Bond).⁴⁷

Under the watchful eye of the Commons a new council was formed to govern on behalf of the king, their first task being to satisfy the Commons’ requirements. Parliament made it clear that, as far as they were concerned, the king had sufficient resources to maintain the war with France without recourse to public funds. There was no enthusiasm for a renewed French campaign. However, towards the end of October news reached England of a large Spanish fleet at Sluys, and in response to the threat a fleet had been assembled under the overall command of the king’s youngest uncle, Thomas of Woodstock, the newly appointed Duke of Buckingham, which set sail in early November. Unfortunately stormy weather scattered the fleet, and by December the project was abandoned and the by now mutinous troops disbanded.⁴⁸ It was a disappointing and dispiriting start for the new reign, with another expensive foreign expedition ending in failure.

Nevertheless Joan was probably not the only person who found the New Year, 1378, heralded a promising start. Richard was safely settled with his new household which included John Holand, while Joan was at hand with her own household, with her daughters and Eleanor Clifford in attendance. Politically there seemed to be calm, with the council managing affairs and Gaunt reconciled with Parliament and the Londoners. Despite its grumbles, Parliament had voted sufficient grants to finance a new offensive in France under the overall command of Gaunt and the earls of Arundel and Salisbury. Hopes were high that England would re-establish its supremacy in France and avenge the raids on the south coast. Plans were drawn up and orders dispatched, and in April Arundel and Salisbury sailed as planned, with Gaunt scheduled to follow. Regarded with respect and affection, referred to as ‘Madame la Meer’, Joan settled into her role as the king’s mother.⁴⁹ In April, at the annual Garter celebrations, there was a public display of family unity with eight female members of Richard’s immediate family becoming Ladies of the Garter. This was a solely prestigious award as it carried no financial benefits. Only two women had previously been so honoured: Queen Philippa in 1358 and Princess Isabella in 1376. Now Joan, her daughters Maud, Lady Courtenay, and Joan, Duchess of Brittany, her sisters-in-law Constance, Duchess of Lancaster and Isabella, Countess of Cambridge (Edmund’s wife), Gaunt’s daughters Philippa and Elizabeth, and Princess Isabella’s daughter Philippa were all honoured.⁵⁰ Special robes with hoods were made for them, matching in colour, quality and quantity of cloth and furs with those of the knights, with a garter for each embroidered with the motto of the order probably worn on the left arm, paid for by the Crown.⁵¹ As Joan stood in St George’s chapel at Windsor, dressed in her garter robes, her eyes on her son, this was a deeply emotional moment for her. Membership of the Garter had been of immense significance for the prince, and Thomas Holand, and their stalls were nearby, emblazoned with their arms. Now Joan too stood where they had done, joined to them in membership of this chivalric order. This was a family affair, as her oldest son Thomas had been made a member in 1376, at the same time as Princess Isabella. It would have been a proud and moving moment for Joan, on the eve of saying goodbye once more to many of her menfolk. When Gaunt finally departed in July, Thomas and John accompanied him, as did Lewis Clifford, William Neville, Richard Stury, Philip la Vache, John Clanvowe and William Beauchamp, all dear to her.⁵² Watching the preparations, making her farewells to those leaving, Joan would have been reminded of earlier times with the prince, and perhaps she was relieved that Richard was far too young to take part in the expedition.

Then, in August, the political calm was broken. The murder of a squire who had taken sanctuary in Westminster Abbey to avoid arrest caused a national scandal. Two squires, Robert Hawley and John Shakell, who had been imprisoned in the Tower pending investigation of their claim for a reward for having taken a valuable prisoner, had escaped and fled to Westminster Abbey. They were pursued by the constable of the Tower, Alan Buxhill, and one of his men, a knight named Ralph Ferrers, was overzealous in his duty, wounding a sacristan and killing Hawley on the altar steps. This violation of sanctuary caused an outcry. Even though Gaunt was in France, many held him responsible and he was denounced as the instigator. The Bishop of London, William Courtenay, immediately excommunicated all those concerned, specifically excluding only Richard, Joan and Gaunt. Meanwhile the French campaign faltered and failed, and in September the returning soldiers were greeted without enthusiasm. Gaunt, his military reputation tarnished, found that he was held responsible for the disappointment of so many hopes. Immediately on the defensive, he launched his energies into the sanctuary affair and lost no time in furiously attacking Courtenay. For once, Joan’s soothing and restraining influence was not in evidence, although, having deliberately distanced herself from the public political arena, the swift and immediate resumption of the old feud between her brother-in-law and the Bishop of London probably took her by surprise. When Parliament met in Gloucester the mood of the Commons was unsettled and unhappy, and the inevitable request for further subsidies for the Crown was received sourly and only granted grudgingly.

The grumblings of Parliament and the general dissatisfaction with the lack of progress in France did not affect Joan’s growing sense of security in Richard’s position. Her concern remained focussed on his personal welfare and she turned her attention towards his marriage. As Richard was barely twelve there was no great urgency, but Joan was very conscious of the importance of his marriage and she was determined that he should not follow his father’s example. Richard’s best friend, Robert de Vere, had married Princess Isabella’s daughter Philippa the previous year. It was time, Joan felt, for a suitable bride to be found for Richard; this, for Joan, meant marriage to a foreign princess. Her own experience had reinforced rather than weakened the attractions of a traditional match. Under her influence a marriage council had been set up within a few months of Richard being crowned, its members comprised exclusively of people close to Joan and dominated by her. Potential matches were identified and considered. Initially, in January 1378, a French match had been discussed.⁵³ When this came to nothing, the possibilities of a Navarrese princess was considered. When this faltered, another foreign princess was soon identified, and negotiations began with the King of Bohemia for a match between his sister, Anne, and Richard. As ever, the choice of suitable foreign brides was restricted; nevertheless there was little, on the face of it, to recommend Anne, diplomatically or financially. With England’s interests overseas firmly centred on France and the Spanish peninsula, Bohemia was not an obvious or particularly desirable ally, while the country’s inability to supply Anne with a dowry was a considerable disadvantage. Joan does not seem to have regarded these as obstacles, although she was careful to enlist Gaunt’s support, having the opportunity to discuss it with him at Christmas, which she and Richard spent as his guests at Kenilworth. Their relationship remained as close as ever. Gaunt’s New Year gift to Joan of a covered gold cup and crucifix garnished with precious stones and pearls, and adorned with an image of the Blessed Virgin and St John, is revealing.⁵⁴ The implicit, if unconscious, identification of Joan with Mary and Gaunt with her protector, St John, is intriguing, suggesting that this, perhaps, is how Gaunt saw their relationship. By February Joan had returned to Kennington with the family, confident that she had the duke’s support and, indeed, in June 1380 Gaunt played host to the King of Bohemia’s envoy, continuing the discussions.⁵⁵ The king’s marriage was naturally a matter of great importance and an affair in which all members of the nobility had an interest, but Joan’s influence here was strong. Simon Burley was one of the principal negotiators and on 26 December 1380 Thomas Holand was appointed as one of the ambassadors to treat for his brother’s marriage.⁵⁶

Thomas and John Holand benefited from their mother’s new confidence. By February 1380 Thomas was acting as Marshal of England, formally confirmed on the 13 March, and in May he was appointed justice of the peace for Surrey with his brother-in-law, the Earl of Arundel. When there was a renewed threat of invasion from France in June, he was placed in charge of defending Southampton with a garrison of 150 men at arms, seventy balisters and eighty archers, and a further eighty men were sent to joint them in July.⁵⁷ By the end of the year he was at last elevated to the earldom of Kent.⁵⁸ At the same time Joan granted him her interests in Kent: the manor of Wickhambreaux and £30 county annuity. A seal of Thomas’ from 1380 shows his shield suspended from the neck of a white hind, incorporating his mother’s personal insignia with the Holand arms.⁵⁹ John Holand similarly gained, receiving a life grant of Northwich town in Cheshire, the Hope and Hopedale lordships, rent from Overmarsh, Flintshire, and when Blanche Wake died in 1380 Joan granted John three Wake manors: Long Marton in Cumberland, Langton in Yorkshire and Stevington in Bedfordshire.⁶⁰ John also received public recognition from his young brother through official appointments; in September he was granted the Marensin lordship in the Landes region of Gascony and in March 1381 he was appointed justice for Cheshire for life, a strategically important post in view of the extensive Crown estates in the county, part of Richard’s inheritance from his father.⁶¹This was a notable mark of approval, when in only August 1379 the most reward he had received had been a gift of clothing from his royal brother (eight long gowns and other garments).⁶² Maud also gained from her mother’s more relaxed attitude, and on 1 April 1380 Maud married Waleran, the Count of St Pol, at Windsor, the occasion notable for being celebrated with a great concourse of trumpeters and entertainers, in the presence of Richard and all of Maud’s family, with most of the court in attendance.⁶³ Maud received a typically generous gift from John of Gaunt of a three-legged vessel, cup and ewer.⁶⁴ It was a year of marriages, with Gaunt’s daughter Elizabeth being married to John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, at Kenilworth on 24 June 1380, followed in October by the marriage of her brother, Henry of Bolingbroke, to Mary Bohun, at her mother’s home at Rothford Hall in Essex.

As she became more convinced of the security of Richard’s position as king, Joan felt able to turn her attention towards other areas, and she started to show a much greater personal interest in her own affairs. Loyal and long-serving retainers were high on Joan’s list. Although the awards were made by Richard, there can be no doubt that Joan was using her influence to secure them. Her long-time clerk John Carleton had become sub-deacon at Lincoln Cathedral in April 1378 and canon at St Paul’s in London in February 1379 while receiving an additional clerical appointment to the vicarage of Huyssh and Lamport, her chaplain John Yernmouth was given the church of Stoke Basset in Oxfordshire in August 1378, and in April 1379 Robert Braybrooke was nominated to Lichfield church.⁶⁵ William Harpele was granted a manor and other income in February 1381, and her squire Henry Norton received a life grant in April 1380 ‘in consideration of his services to her and to her daughter de Courtenay’.⁶⁶ In March 1378 Andrew and Elizabeth Luttrell were granted a lifetime annuity of £200 in recognition of their service to Joan and the prince during his lifetime, and when Andrew subsequently died Joan ensured this annuity was confirmed for Elizabeth.⁶⁷ Joan de la Warr, daughter of Joan’s friend Eleanor, received a wardship in 1379.⁶⁸ William Beauchamp, her steward John Worthe and Adam Louches were all granted annuities in the spring of 1378; John Worthe was also granted a life interest in her Northweald manor, while Aubrey de Vere was given a life grant of the bailiwick of Rochford hundred in Essex in January 1380.⁶⁹ She committed the custody of Cardigan Castle to Lewis Clifford for life, and granted Richard Stury the post of constable and keeper of the castle and town of Aberystwyth in Wales for her lifetime, a position confirmed by Richard three weeks later.⁷⁰ Joan was almost certainly influential in ensuring rewards given by Richard to John Clanvowe, William Beauchamp, Richard Stury and Lewis Clifford around this time, small but significant grants in financial terms including those of wardship and marriage.⁷¹

Joan also showed a renewed interest in her estates, which she had previously been content to leave in the hands of her council. The only surviving copy of Joan’s personal seal is attached to a document signed at Waghen on 20 April 1380 to record an exchange of rental at Miserden manor with Meaux Abbey.⁷² A similar personal involvement is evident at this time in Joan’s personal request for a series of commissions to investigate incidents on her estates held in Dartford, Cottingham, Essex, Deeping and Bourn, Chesterfield and Barnstable.⁷³ In May 1381 personal requests made by Joan in the interests of her uncle Thomas Wake’s foundations at Bourne and Ware in Lincolnshire, on behalf of the prior William Herbert, were granted, and a pardon issued to Adam Aldeby, the vicar of Stamford, for causing the death of John Bell.⁷⁴ The indication of Joan’s new and detailed interest in personal affairs suggests that she was now considering her retirement from the court, and this is confirmed by the order for the construction of a new barge for her in May 1381, which would give her easy access downstream to Windsor, Kennington and Westminster from Wallingford.⁷⁵ In the same month Simon Burley became constable of Windsor Castle, an appointment which would have reassured Joan that he remained very close at hand for Richard (the favour shown to Burley included the gifts of manors at Windsor, Henley, West Hampstead and Charing Cross).⁷⁶

It is easy to imagine that Joan would have been feeling generally well satisfied with affairs by the spring of 1381 and thinking that the time was right for her to retire from public life. She had clearly shown that she had little interest in taking a central role in public affairs and had taken great care to refrain from becoming too prominent. It is notable that she preferred to exercise her influence indirectly even as an intercessor where possible, with official requests for pardons to be given to individuals for capital offences made as frequently by members of her family (her daughter Maud, her sons Thomas and John and Robert Braybrooke) and her staff (such as her clerks William Fulbourne and William Harpele, her damsels Agnes Corby and Margery Lodewyk, and her knights John Worthe and William Neville) as by Joan in person.⁷⁷ Joan had no desire to maintain her public role. The last important aspect of Richard’s life which she had wanted to oversee was his marriage, and now the final arrangements for this were in place. In April the conclusion of the marriage treaty was celebrated at a sumptuous banquet hosted at the Savoy by Gaunt for the envoy of the King of Bohemia.⁷⁸ This was a joyful occasion for Joan and very much a family affair. Her Holand children, now seemingly settled, were all in attendance. The choice of venue and host for the celebrations was natural, given Gaunt’s position, but it was also a reflection of Joan’s continuing close friendship with her brother-in-law, unaffected by his marriage to Constance of Castile or his affair with Katherine Swynford, evidenced by the regular visits between them and the many gifts exchanged (listed in the duke’s register), including another gold drinking vessel and several books (‘livres’) given to Joan in March 1381, and further expensive gifts for Joan and her daughter the Duchess of Brittany in May 1382.⁷⁹ Having satisfactorily finalised his nephew’s marriage arrangements, Gaunt then departed for Scotland, having been appointed to broker peace and agree a truce with the Scots. Joan meanwhile made preparations for her annual visit to Canterbury in June, to mark the anniversary of the prince’s death. With Richard now fourteen, and his marriage imminent, Joan could feel that she had fulfilled the prince’s expectations and done as much as she could for her son. She could not have realised or foreseen the danger which was so nearly upon them.

The popular armed rising which overwhelmed and paralysed the government for two weeks in June 1381 is usually described as the Peasants’ Revolt, although this is a misnomer as it was hardly restricted to the peasant class. It appears to have been sparked by the arrival of royal officials into local areas to investigate and enforce the collection of a poll tax passed by the Northampton parliament in November 1380. The reasons for the uprising and its course and events continue to be debated by historians, but what is not in doubt is that it came at a time when the government was unpopular and weak. The conciliar government set up to rule for Richard had struggled to be an effective body, weakened at the outset by the lack of strong leadership, and the exclusion of the king’s uncles. Unable to manage Parliament effectively and lacking clear direction, the councillors had resigned en masse at the beginning of 1380 and been replaced with a group of men headed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury. But the new councillors proved similarly unable to provide strong and decisive leadership. Worse still, there was no good news from abroad. Popular support for the war with France, weakened by successive failures, was probably at its lowest when the campaigning army which had set out in July 1380 returned from their chevauchée through France in April 1381 with little to show for their progress, having swallowed up the taxes raised in the Parliament of January 1380. The sad truth was that the spectacular victories of the prince and Edward III were becoming distant memories, and there was little sympathy for Thomas of Woodstock’s bellicose enthusiasm and energy for a new campaign. Even John of Gaunt showed little interest. Fear of invasion from France now drove the war effort, rather than a belief in establishing and maintaining the English Crown’s claim to the French throne. It was a disastrously expensive defensive policy which consumed and exhausted each successive round of taxation and had left the government in a state of financial crisis in the autumn of 1380. Sudbury’s council, although horrified by the parlous state of the royal finances, had been overwhelmed by the responsibility for keeping Buckingham’s army in France through the winter, and had managed to convince the Commons in the parliament held in November 1380 at Northampton of the need for further taxes to raise money. Parliament had grudgingly agreed to grant a further poll tax and in the wrangling between the various vested interests the resultant tax was passed on the basis it would be levied at a flat rate. Although this inevitably meant that it would fall hardest on the poorest, no one foresaw the extent to which the tax would be resented, or anticipated the resistance that would be encountered by those collecting the tax.

Despite the many reports of the events which took place in the first two weeks of June by the various chroniclers, it remains difficult to determine with accuracy the exact sequence of events.⁸⁰ It is generally considered that the rising started around the beginning of June with unrest in Essex and Kent which spread into London, sparked by the commissions of enquiry set up to investigate the widespread evasion of the latest poll tax. On 1 June the commission of enquiry set up at Brentwood in Essex erupted into violence with three jurors killed. In Kent the violence spread from the east coast at Gravesend through Dartford, Rochester, Maidstone and Canterbury and then up to London, led by Wat Tyler and John Ball. From the inception of the rising the targets for the rebels were government officials and representatives, rather than the king himself, but first on the list of their hated targets was John of Gaunt and very quickly their anger turned into demands for the executions of unpopular leading figures. The numbers of men joining in the rising rose rapidly and the Anonimalle Chronicle estimated that 50,000 men had taken to the roads by 2 June. Buildings of authority such as castles and prisons were targeted, along with the homes of those in authority; property was looted, burned and destroyed and many of those unfortunate enough to be caught by the rebels met a violent end.

The government was slow to react. It is evident that the first reports of unrest which came to the king did not give cause for concern. During the first week of June 1381 Joan left Richard at Windsor and made her way to Canterbury for her annual pilgrimage to the prince’s tomb, accompanied by her daughter, Joan, and a handful of her women, probably including Eleanor Clifford. The cathedral at Canterbury was a major pilgrimage destination, as it housed the body of Thomas à Becket, and the route from London was well known, the road winding through Southwark, Deptford, Greenwich and down into Kent, to Canterbury via Sittingbourne. For Joan, this had become an annual private and personal pilgrimage to visit the prince’s tomb on the anniversary of his death rather than to pray at the site of the saint’s martyrdom. She would stay for a few days, arriving shortly before the 8 June, so that she could listen to services in commemoration of the prince throughout the day, returning a day or so later to London. Although Joan had recently given her manor at Wickhambreaux to Thomas, it seems likely that she stayed there on this occasion, and on previous annual visits, as it was only five miles east of Canterbury, in the valley of the Little Stour river.⁸¹ Had Richard, or anyone else at court, realised the impending danger Joan would never have left Windsor for Canterbury. Joan appears to have left Canterbury after commemorating the prince’s anniversary on 8 June without appreciating how near the rebels were to her. The Anonimalle Chroniclerecords that by Monday 10 June, just after Joan had set out on her return journey, about 4,000 rebels had gathered at Canterbury, entering the cathedral during Mass.⁸² According to Froissart, as she was on the road travelling back to London to rejoin Richard and the court, she was overtaken and stopped by a large crowd: ‘She was in great jeopardy to have been lost, for these people came to her carriage and dealt rudely with her, whereof the good lady was in great doubt lest they would have done some villainy to her or to her damosels. Howbeit, God kept her, and she came in one day from Canterbury to London, for she never durst tarry by the way.’⁸³

Froissart is the only chronicler to record this encounter, and his account cannot be verified. However, other sources do corroborate the timing and the route of the rebels marching on London from Canterbury and the coincidence of Joan’s return from her annual visit to Canterbury makes such an encounter at least possible. Froissart knew Joan personally, and it is not unreasonable to suggest that his account may have been drawn from a contemporary recollection. Joan would have been travelling in a carriage emblazoned with her arms, and although there were few in her party she would have had a small armed escort. To be stopped, and accosted in this way, was extremely unusual. The crowd would have realised Joan’s identity from the insignia on her carriage, and although their behaviour towards her was familiar they appear to have held her in respect, as there was no suggestion that the personal safety of Joan or her companions was threatened. Exactly what the men said to Joan is unknown, but their demeanour and intention was apparently clear. It seems likely that they may have aired some of their grievances to Joan, and at least made it clear that they intended to see the king. It does not seem to have occurred to any of them that they could have taken the king’s mother hostage, or that by accompanying her back to London they could have used her presence as a bargaining tool with her son. Joan’s reaction, according to Froissart, was immediate; she returned to London as quickly as she could (in one day). This meant that she followed the rebels on the road to the capital, or possibly even overtook them; they, after all, were on foot, whereas she was in a carriage. This was not the action of a frightened woman; it was rather the instinct of a mother to protect her son. Knowing that this unruly mob was intent on accosting the king, Joan was desperate to reach him first; to warn him, and to ensure he was protected. Joan had no means of knowing what the situation was in London and whether this was an isolated group of discontented men or one of many. For all she knew no one in London was aware of the impending army of rebels advancing on the capital. She also knew that Richard was relatively unprotected, as many of the nobility were away, with Gaunt in Scotland and Edmund, Earl of Cambridge, on expedition abroad. It seems probable that Joan ordered one of her mounted escort to ride ahead of her back to the court to warn the king, and that she followed as quickly as she could. As she was uncomfortably jolted in her carriage as it swayed behind her straining horses, she would almost certainly have seen many more peasants and labourers marching along the road towards London, as the chroniclers testify that men poured into the capital from Kent over this period. Although estimates vary, by 12 June around 100,000 had gathered on the outskirts of London.⁸⁴

When Joan arrived in London she made straight for the Tower of London, where she joined Richard; presumably she had received word from him while she was on the road that this was where he would be. Within days of Joan leaving Richard at Windsor news had reached the young king of the growing rebellion and that huge numbers of armed men were descending on the capital, having wreaked havoc and destruction en route. The reports of what was happening were alarming. All the chroniclers’ accounts make it clear that Richard and his advisers had been taken completely by surprise. The immediate reaction was to make for the capital, and on 11 June Richard left Windsor and travelled by barge to the Tower.⁸⁵ Joan appears to have joined him the following day. By this time the king had learned that the rebels wanted to meet with him at Blackheath; possibly this message was delivered to the Tower by Sir John Newton, the keeper of Rochester Castle, who had been captured by the rebels on their progress through Kent. It is not clear how many people were with Richard in the Tower or what kind of armed escort the king had, as the chroniclers variously estimate between 150 and 600 fighting men.⁸⁶ Among those with Richard were his two half-brothers, Thomas and John Holand, his friend Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford, William Montague, Earl of Salisbury, the earls of Warwick and Arundel, John of Gaunt’s son Henry Bolingbroke, the chancellor Simon Sudbury and the treasurer Robert Hales.⁸⁷ One notable absentee was Simon Burley, as he had left England for Bohemia on 15 May to continue the negotiations with the Bohemian royalty for Richard’s marriage.⁸⁸ Joan had remained on good terms with her erstwhile husband, William Montague, and she would have taken comfort from his presence, as he had been one of the prince’s most able and reliable commanders in the prince’s last campaigns. There were also a number of city men including the Mayor of London, William Walworth. The chroniclers do not mention the names of any women, but there were evidently a number of noblewomen and their servants in the Tower, in addition to those who had returned with Joan, which included her daughter Joan, Duchess of Brittany.

It is hard to imagine what the atmosphere must have been like within the Tower. Richard, at fourteen, was still very young and reliant on his older advisers. Conflicting intelligence probably made it difficult to assess exactly what was happening, and while the rebel numbers were not known and their intentions remained unclear it was impossible to know how far the unrest had spread or to appreciate the level of danger. Although there were soldiers in the Tower, it was evident that the rebels greatly outnumbered the royal party. The envoys sent on behalf of the king to the rebels had been told that they wanted to save the king but destroy the traitors. No one was in any doubt that the situation was serious; the dilemma was how best to deal with it. Disastrously, Richard’s advisers could not agree among themselves and were unable to suggest a course of action. It must have made sense at this stage to at least find out what the rebels wanted. However, wary of becoming trapped, the decision was taken that Richard should travel to meet the rebels by barge from the Tower, so providing him with a modicum of safety and a means of escape should he need it. On Thursday 13 June Richard left the Tower, accompanied by his chancellor Simon Sudbury and treasurer Robert Hales, William Montague, the earls of Warwick and Oxford and a few other knights, probably including Thomas and John Holand. There were too many for one barge and it seems that perhaps as many as four barges made up the royal party. As they approached the rebels near Greenwich the vastness and noise of the crowd made the royal party nervous. Froissart credits William Montague with cautioning Richard against landing while the Anonimalle Chronicle suggests that although Richard wanted to agree to the rebels’ demand for a personal meeting his chancellor and treasurer deterred him. Although the chroniclers’ accounts vary about the exact demands which were presented to Richard, it is generally agreed that the rebels wanted those they held responsible for their woes to be punished, drastically – by death. The long list of ‘traitors’ included Richard’s uncle John of Gaunt, his chancellor Simon Sudbury, his treasurer Sir Robert Hales and John Fordham, the keeper of the privy seal. There must have been consternation on the king’s barge as the nature and implications of the demands became known. How could Richard agree to kill his own servants and members of his own family?

Whatever Richard’s instincts may have been, it is hardly surprising in the circumstances that at this stage the safest course appeared to be to stall for time. Richard and the rest of his party returned to the Tower. Not satisfied by their meeting with the king, the rebels proceeded towards London. Access into London was denied to them at this point as the gates were closed. However, it is evident that no one among the king’s party or among the City of London had thought to protect the capital, and gaining access to the capital proved alarmingly easy for the rebels, as the gates were opened for them, although it is not clear who took the decision to do so or why. At this point it seems that the orgy of violence and destruction really began. As they streamed through the streets their anger found expression in destroying many of the buildings owned by hated prominent figures, including the Archbishop of Canterbury’s palace at Lambeth, the Temple, the house of the treasurer Sir Robert Hales, several in Fleet Street, opening the gates of the Marshalsea, Fleet and Newgate prisons, attacking Clerkenwell Palace, church and hospital. One of the more horrific acts was the murder of around 150 Flemings in the city area.⁸⁹ The most famous act of destruction was of Gaunt’s Savoy Palace. The duke’s possessions – his gold and silver ware, jewellery, clothes, furniture and tapestries – were hauled out, smashed, broken, burnt, thrown in the river, the lot worth probably in the region of £10,000, while all his papers and then the building itself was set on fire.⁹⁰Anyone who was identified as being one of the rebels’ targets, or any of servant of theirs unfortunate enough to be found, was killed.

That night Joan would have been able to see that many of London’s buildings were burning, and would have been able to hear the cries of the crowds and their victims. The burning Savoy must have been an unbearably poignant and frightening sight, illustrating so vividly the depth of hatred felt towards Gaunt and the powerlessness of the Crown to protect even the king’s uncle. The Tower, a formidable fortress which should have been a safe refuge, was quickly becoming a prison as the prospect of leaving was rapidly becoming unthinkable. It must have been absolutely terrifying. Having reached Richard after her own roadside experience, Joan’s instinct had been to meet and talk to the rebels, never dreaming that they meant any harm to the king. These were humble peasants and labourers, who regarded the king with awe and respect. But her confidence in a peaceable approach must have been shaken to the core by the demands presented at Blackheath, and by the subsequent eruption of such unprecedented violence. It quickly became obvious that no one really knew what to do, and it was apparent that there were very few in the Tower who had the ability or confidence to deal with the situation. Joan could never have missed the prince and his supreme confidence and leadership skills more than at this moment of greatest danger for their son. The absence of her brother-in-law was a mixed blessing. Joan’s close friendship with Gaunt may have blinded her to the extent of his unpopularity and the vitriolic hatred expressed by the rebels towards him may have taken her completely by surprise. If initially she regretted his absence, she would swiftly have appreciated that his presence would only have exacerbated the situation.

It was time for a decision to be made. Some way had to be found of dealing with the crisis. Naturally Richard relied on the advice of those with him. The Anonimalle Chronicle starkly recorded that he ‘called all of the lords into a chamber of the Tower and demanded their counsel as to what he should do in this emergency; and none of them was able or willing to give his counsel’.⁹¹ It had already been apparent earlier that there was no one individual who was sufficiently forceful to take the lead – not even Richard’s uncle, Thomas of Woodstock, who was now with him (according to the Anonimalle Chronicle) – and Froissart indicates that there was a clear divergence of opinion between those like William Walworth, who advocated a tough response, mobilising the armed forces at the king’s command to disperse the rebels, and those like William Montague, acutely aware of the royal party’s weak military position, who preferred a cautious and conciliatory approach. While Joan is not mentioned as participating in these discussions, faced with the biggest crisis of his young life Richard would undoubtedly have been conscious of his mother’s views. Joan’s own instincts were conciliatory, and despite the escalating violence her own experience with the rebels may have led her to encourage her son to speak to them, confident that by doing so he may be able to dispel some of the anger and violence, reminding him of the respect and awe with which his father had been regarded. Guided and persuaded by those around him, including Joan, the decision was made by Richard, or for him, that he would meet the rebels and talk to them. On the following day, Friday 14 June, Richard left the Tower to meet the rebels again, this time at Mile End. A careful choice was made as to who would accompany him. As the young king’s purpose in meeting the rebels was to talk to them, it was important that no one was present who might exacerbate the situation. This naturally precluded those who were top of their wanted list, so the chancellor and the treasurer were left behind, and it would have been equally unwise for John of Gaunt’s son Henry of Bolingbroke to join the party. Richard was accompanied again by William Montague, and by both his half-brothers, Thomas and John Holand, his friend Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford, his uncle Thomas of Woodstock, the Earl of Warwick, and, according to the Anonimalle Chronicle, by his mother, probably with a few of her ladies.⁹² Although no other chronicler corroborates this, it does seem quite possible that Joan chose to accompany her son, at least initially. It is likely that she had been privy to the previous night’s discussions and the decision to go with him was one which only she could have made, almost certainly hoping that her presence would have a calming effect, and so provide her son with additional protection. However, at some point on the way to Mile End Joan left Richard and returned to the Tower. As her return does not seem to have been prompted by any incident en route, it is likely that Joan’s intention had been to accompany Richard for only part of the way, to ensure a safe start. According to Froissart Richard feared that the rebels might attack his half-brothers and so he made Thomas and John Holand also leave; they too returned to the Tower.⁹³ It is evident that no one dreamed the Tower would be attacked. Richard continued towards Mile End, probably nervously and in some trepidation, but confident that he left his mother and the others in the Tower in safety.

The timing of the attack on the Tower in relation to the meeting at Mile End is unclear, but it appears that as soon as the royal party had left the Tower and was safely en route a large crowd of rebels (Froissart estimates at least 400 in number) led by the main rebel leaders, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw and the radical preacher John Ball, broke into the Tower.⁹⁴ The chroniclers are clear that the rebels had deliberately waited for the king to depart and that they specifically and knowingly targeted the Tower, intent on gaining access and wreaking their version of justice on those they held responsible for their woes and whom they knew remained in the fortress. They were after the chancellor and the treasurer. This was an obvious oversight on the part of the royal advisers, and it seems extraordinary that the Tower guards were not better prepared, with Walsingham incredulous that no knight or squire challenged them as they streamed into the Tower. Once inside the rebels dragged Sudbury and Hales outside, taking them to Tower Hill where they were summarily beheaded. Both knew the fate that awaited them; the archbishop had earlier celebrated Mass for Richard and was in the Tower chapel when he was taken. Two others were also beheaded: Friar William Appleton, physician to John of Gaunt, and John Legge, a serjeant-at-arms. The grisly trophy heads were stuck on poles and placed on display on Tower Bridge. Henry of Bolingbroke only escaped because he was hidden by a servant, John Ferrour.

Joan had a dramatic confrontation with the rebels. Walsingham recounts that they entered her bedchamber and invited her to kiss them, while according to Froissart ‘also these gluttons entered into the princess’ chamber and brake her bed, whereby she was so sore afraid that she swooned, and there she was taken up and borne to the waterside and put in a barge and covered, and so conveyed to a place called the Queens Wardrobe. And there she was all that day and night, like a woman half dead, till she was comforted with the king her son.’⁹⁵ The Queen’s Wardrobe, the main financial office of the royal household, was a mile upstream on the City side of the Thames at Blackfriars. The shock of the attack on the Tower and the merciless executions of the archbishop and the others must have induced a state of extreme terror among those left in the royal party. They were in the hands of the rebels and could only fear the worst. Before Richard’s departure the belief had been that the king and his party were the ones at risk and no one had envisaged that the Tower would fail to protect those left behind. Joan, face to face with the terrifying evidence of the rebels’ capacity for extreme violence, would have been horrified and distraught at the thought of what might be happening to Richard. There was nothing she could do. It is hardly surprising if she collapsed, paralysed. As she waited, perhaps she was comforted by the thought that, once again, the rebels had neither threatened nor hurt her, or any of her ladies, and that their anger was directed at her son’s ministers rather than at her son.

Meanwhile Richard had reached Mile End. Froissart records that the young king spoke to the assembled crowd of nearly 60,000, asking them what they wanted, and that when they replied that they wanted their freedom, Richard agreed to their demands and on the same day thirty royal clerks were ordered to draw up charters which gave the rebels their freedom from serfdom and pardoned them for any wrongdoing. The chroniclers generally concur that as soon as the charters were issued the rebels dispersed, returning to their homes. Conciliation had worked, but only to a limited extent. The crowd that Richard met at Mile End were only a part of the rebel forces, and he had still to deal with the ringleaders, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw and John Ball. Presumably word reached Richard of the attack on the Tower and of the fate of his ministers, and of Joan’s relocation, for on leaving Mile End Richard and those in his party went directly to the Queen’s Wardrobe. That night once again he and his now depleted advisers had to decide what to do. Although the policy of appeasement had worked at Mile End, would it work again in the light of the terrible events in the Tower? In the end there was little choice. It would be impossible to overcome the rebellion by the use of force in view of the numerical superiority of the rebels, their use of violence and the lack of royal troops. The only successful strategy so far had been to meet with the rebels and agree to their demands.

The following day, Saturday 15 June, after praying at the shrine of Saint Edward in Westminster Abbey, Richard set out once again to meet the rebels, this time at the site of a weekly horse market at Smithfield, with a retinue of about 200 knights including William Montague and the Mayor of London, William Walworth. The numbers of rebels had decreased (Froissart estimates 20,000), but the principal leaders were there and they were emboldened by their success. Wat Tyler was their spokesman, and he approached Richard, presenting a more extreme version of the demands which had been made to the king the day before. What happened next is disputed, but there appears to have been a scuffle between Wat Tyler and one of Richard’s squires which was interrupted by William Walworth, who struck Wat Tyler down with his sword. As soon as the rebels realised that Tyler had been killed, their mood became ugly, and it was at this point that Richard bravely rode towards them, on his own, and addressed them directly to follow him. All the accounts concur that this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, taken by Richard on his own. It was a huge gamble, but it was spectacularly successful. As Joan had earlier thought, whatever the people’s quarrel with the Crown and its government, they held their young king in respect and awe, they meant him no harm and they were ready to listen to him and to follow him to Clerkenwell fields away from the city, where Richard ordered them to go home, promising them that their demand for freedom from serfdom would be met.

It took time to persuade the huge crowds to disperse, and some were more receptive than others to following the king’s command. However, this time the royal party had done its own planning, and swiftly on hand to envelope the rebels as they congregated at Clerkenwell were a number of armed forces, including one commanded by the experienced soldier Robert Knolles. Froissart credits Richard with the decision not to employ armed force to chase them out of the capital or to execute the leaders on the spot. Froissart also emphasises that Richard’s first subsequent journey was to rejoin his mother, where she ‘greatly rejoiced and said, “Ah! Fair son, what pain and great sorrow that I have suffered for you this day.” Then the king answered and said, “Certainly, madam, I know it well; but now rejoice yourself and thank God for now it is time. I have this day recovered mine heritage and the realm of England, the which I had near lost.”’⁹⁶ It was indeed the end of the uprising, and order was slowly restored. That same day Richard knighted several Londoners, including the mayor William Walworth, who had stood at his side during the confrontation with Tyler, and within hours Richard was countermanding the charters of liberties he had issued. On 18 June letters were sent to the sheriffs in each county requiring them to enforce the peace and take measures to restrain the rebels, while commissions granting military and judicial powers were issued to leading members of the nobility, including the Earl of Buckingham and Thomas Holand. The rebel leaders, including Jack Straw and John Ball, were caught, tried and executed. The heads of the archbishop and the chancellor and the others were taken down from Tower Bridge, and with a certain grim irony they were replaced by those of the rebels.

The duration of the rising had been barely more than two weeks, with the rebels having control of London for two full days, but it had been the most dramatic and dangerous threat to the Crown since Edward II was deposed, far exceeding the repeated fears of French invasion, and its consequences were politically and socially far-reaching. On a purely personal level, it changed Joan’s attitude towards Richard. Hitherto she had been protective and intervened whenever she felt she needed to, and had relied on the support of her brother-in-law. The events of those two weeks in June showed her that Richard could take care of himself. It was notable that the revolt had been directed against government and royal officials and had not been against Richard or his family other than Gaunt. Despite the criticism and violence meted out to his ministers and Gaunt’s property and retainers, none had been directed towards Richard himself. Richard had undoubtedly benefited from his parents’ popularity and the esteem and affection with which his mother was regarded – Joan had, after all, encountered the rebels on two separate occasions and on neither occasion had there been any suggestion she might come to harm – but in addition Richard had shown that he was more than equal to defending himself. Surrounded by advisers who failed to agree among themselves and were unable to provide clear direction, with his powerful uncle Gaunt absent, Richard had shown he was his father’s son with his display of leadership and bravery at Smithfield, and survived the crisis. Joan had been there to guide and support him but at the end of the day he had proved that he had the strength of character and maturity to deal with the situation. Proud of her son, Joan would have been reassured that Richard was well able to take care of himself.

The rebels who had poured into London had come from Kent and Essex and, inevitably, these counties received the most attention in the immediate aftermath. For two weeks after the dispersal of the rebels from London there was continued active resistance in Essex, quashed by forces commanded by Thomas of Woodstock and Sir Thomas Percy. Subsequently a commission headed by the new chief justice, Robert Tresilian, meted out severe punishment. Richard was in Chelmsford in Essex and then at Havering for much of this time, probably as a deliberate policy to make a show of royal force and restore his authority; according to Froissart he then moved to Kent. Richard entrusted the restoration of order in Kent to his older half-brother, Thomas, and on 17 June the Earl of Kent was duly dispatched with a commission to enforce the peace and hear indictments in Maidstone and Rochester, reaching Canterbury by 8 July, generally re-establishing royal authority.⁹⁷ On 2 July all the charters granted by Richard were formally rescinded and cancelled. In the immediate aftermath of the revolt a newly constituted council was formed under the leadership of William Courtenay, Bishop of London, who became chancellor in August. In view of the chaos wreaked by the rebellion it was hardly surprising that the restoration of order brought in its wake repressive policies aimed at subjugating those who had dared to flout authority, but there were also those who realised that a more conciliatory long-term approach was needed. On 30 August Richard declared an end to all the arrests and executions. By the time Parliament was called in November at Westminster, the uprising and its repercussions were superficially well and truly over, though the focus of attention for all those attending was inevitably centred on the revolt and the response to it.

Joan’s whereabouts in the weeks following the revolt are not known. There was no ostensible reason why she should have accompanied Richard as he travelled first to Essex, then to Kent, and then on to St Albans, where the abbey had survived remarkably unscathed from the local populace’s fury due largely to the calm competence of the abbot, Thomas de la Mare. With admirable sangfroid de la Mare had talked to the local townsfolk, offering them bread and ale and agreeing to their demands, and so successfully stalled for time peaceably until order was restored. It would not have been surprising if Joan had chosen to retire to Kennington to recover from the harrowing and turbulent two weeks. Nevertheless it seems more likely that she chose to stay at Richard’s side, as she had done throughout the revolt. Although Richard had handled himself well during the crisis it had still been a terrifying episode and there could be no assurance initially that his safety was secure. Having sent so many of the nobility, including his uncle Thomas of Woodstock and his half-brother Thomas, around the country with royal commissions to restore order, Richard had a depleted entourage. He may well have been comforted by his mother’s presence, though if Joan was with her son, it is most unlikely that she would have witnessed the gruesome punishment meted out to John Ball on 15 July in St Albans where he was hanged, drawn and quartered in the king’s presence. By August Richard and Joan were in London, attending the funeral of his old tutor Guichard d’Angle, Earl of Huntingdon, and Gaunt had returned from Scotland.⁹⁸ Joan’s strong friendship with her brother-in-law was behind Richard’s resilient defence of his unpopular uncle in July 1381 when Richard issued a writ denying defamatory reports against Gaunt ‘whom the king declares to be most zealous in his cause’.⁹⁹ But despite Joan’s affection for her brother-in-law the revolt showed her a different side to Gaunt. She had known for years that he was unpopular, but it can never have been more strikingly evident than in the venom and anger directed towards him by the rebels, symbolised by their burning of the Savoy palace. Far from providing Richard with protection, his very name and their close association had endangered the king. His own family had been imperilled. His wife, Duchess Constance, had fled to Pontefract Castle where the keeper refused to admit her, forcing her to continue on to Knaresborough Castle. Katherine Swynford vanished and on his return Gaunt publicly repented of his adultery with her. For the duration of the rebellion Gaunt had been in Scotland, initially agreeing and concluding his official business in negotiating a truce with the Scots. When news of the rebellion reached him he had left, intending to return south, but when the Earl of Northumberland refused to allow the duke to stay in his territory (presumably for fear of reprisals for harbouring such an unpopular noble), he was forced to seek protection back in Scotland and did not leave until summoned by his nephew, indicating it was safe for him to do so.

Joan must have been taken aback to find that Gaunt’s main concern on his arrival back in London was his quarrel with Percy (the Earl of Northumberland). Furious and humiliated by his treatment, as soon as Gaunt presented himself to his nephew he complained about his treatment by Percy, and alleged that the earl had spread rumours that Gaunt was in league with the Scots. The argument between the two men continued all summer, and when the royal council convened at Berkhamsted in October Gaunt repeated his allegations. The problem had not been resolved by the time Parliament met in November, with Gaunt demanding an apology from Northumberland and insisting that his nephew force the earl to comply. The acrimonious dispute between the two men dominated the first few days of the parliament until, on the fifth day of the session, an accommodation was achieved through Richard’s intervention, with Percy apologising to Gaunt on bended knee, and there was a public reconciliation with the two exchanging a kiss of peace. Although Joan had probably guided her son’s mediatory efforts, even she must have been exasperated that her brother-in-law had not been able to resolve this personal quarrel privately. Yet again Gaunt’s pride and obstinacy had brought a personal quarrel to the forefront of public affairs, creating a problem for his nephew without providing a solution. It is symptomatic of Joan’s newfound respect for her son’s abilities that on this occasion she chose not to intervene personally and instead relied on her son, with her support, to mediate. It must therefore have been demoralising for her to find that when Parliament turned its attention to the aftermath of the revolt, although Richard’s revocation of the charters was supported, considerable criticism was levelled at the royal household and its conduct of affairs, many of them individuals whose appointment Joan had helped to secure. Parliament insisted on the appointment of a commission, headed by Gaunt and the Archbishop of Canterbury, to investigate and appoint ‘good and worthy men’ to be around the king. Even Joan may have found Gaunt’s appointment, in the light of his recent behaviour, galling, and it is unlikely that this endeared him to his nephew.

Life slowly returned to normal for Joan. The impact of the events of those two weeks was obviously tremendous on all concerned but unfortunately there is little evidence to indicate how Joan was affected by it. In August she secured a royal commission, led by her brother-in-law Thomas of Woodstock, Earl of Buckingham, to investigate offences committed on her estates.¹⁰⁰ Other than some damage to her Essex properties her estates had been largely untouched by the rebels, possibly because the main areas of the disturbance – London, Kent, Essex, St Albans, Norfolk and Suffolk – were areas in which she had virtually no interests. However, the way in which Joan was treated by the rebels suggests that they regarded her with affection and esteem and it is therefore unlikely that they would have targeted her estates. Nevertheless, clearly, on a personal level, she cannot have been unaffected by what had happened. Throughout she had been with Richard and at the heart of it, she had encountered and been in danger from the rebels on more than one occasion in person, and she had heard and witnessed some of the most frightening and horrifying acts of violence. In July and August, in the immediate aftermath, as order was restored and individual ring leaders arrested and tried or held for trial, Joan could have had little if any direct involvement other than remaining with Richard and supporting the actions he took. It seems unlikely that Joan had any sympathy for the rebels or for the complaints they had made, and this is borne out by the fact that when a series of general pardons were issued to individual rebels after the trials and executions of the most notorious leaders in the November parliament there are few supplications made by Joan, and her intervention seems to have been restricted to men from her own estates.¹⁰¹

Joan must have been dismayed and disheartened by the inability of Richard’s advisers to both protect their young king and deal with the crisis. Thomas and John had also been with their brother throughout, but there is no indication that either of them had played a prominent role. Perhaps Joan was disappointed that neither had shown their father’s tough and aggressive leadership skills, although as their mother she must have known her sons’ capabilities and realised neither had inherited their father’s authoritative character. While her brother-in-law’s absence during the revolt had been unavoidable, if she had placed any reliance on his capabilities to assist in restoring order in the aftermath with firmness and tact, she would hardly have found Gaunt’s attitude and behaviour on his return reassuring. The only redeeming feature of the whole appalling experience was that Richard himself had shown exceptional bravery and leadership. Two years younger than his father had been at Crécy, his outstanding response to the revolt promised much for the future. He had truly shown himself to be a worthy heir to Edward III.

There are two outstanding pieces of art associated with Richard which are thought to give a good likeness of the king as he would have appeared at this time. The first is the full-length panel portrait of Richard which now hangs in Westminster Abbey, and the second is the personal altarpiece known as the Wilton Diptych, housed in the National Gallery. Both show Richard as the boy king, aged about fourteen. They indicate that Richard was an extremely good-looking boy, with delicate, fair features and reddish-gold hair. It is not known if he took after his father or his mother, but it is probable that he bore at least some resemblance to Joan. Little is known about these works, the identity of the person who commissioned and paid for them, the artist or the reason for their being made. Experts have however concluded that both were almost certainly painted in the 1390s, long after Joan had died, and therefore she would not have seen either work.¹⁰² The consensus is that both were probably made on Richard’s orders, although one of the many suggestions made about the Wilton Diptych is that it was commissioned by Maud Courtenay as a present for her brother and a memorial to Joan, with Edward of Angoulême as the Christ child handing over his inheritance to Richard.¹⁰³ Both works are striking images of kingship, although the Wilton Diptych is a more complicated piece, filled with hidden meaning. The Wilton Diptych is a portable altar containing a representation of Richard, attended by three saints (St Edmund, St Edward the Confessor and St John the Baptist) kneeling in front of the Virgin and Child, who are in turn backed by angels. Richard is depicted as a child of no more than fourteen or fifteen (there is no suggestion of a beard), his colouring and features bearing a marked resemblance to the portrait in Westminster Abbey. Richard is alone and there is no suggestion that he has a consort, making it improbable that the work was commissioned while he was married to Anne of Bohemia, as he would hardly have omitted all reference to her as queen. While there has never been any suggestion that the piece is directly related to Joan, there are nevertheless considerable coincidences and allusions within it which might indicate that, if indeed commissioned by Richard, his mother was never far from his thoughts. There is the prolific use of her personal emblem of the white hart, with the gold crown around its neck and the gold chain. Richard adopted the badge as his own but he rarely used it during his mother’s lifetime, although white hart brooches were made and given as gifts by Joan herself (she gave one to John of Gaunt), and in 1379 Richard had included two such brooches among the jewels pledged to the City as security for a loan, later requested on loan for use at his marriage to Anne.¹⁰⁴ In the Wilton Diptych Richard’s cloak is patterned with gold harts, with a white hart badge attached to his breast above his heart, its antlers adorned with pearls, while a smaller version, without the pearls, is also worn by all the angels. The beautiful, serene Virgin, holding the Christ child in her arms, conjures up the image of Joan herself, perhaps with Richard’s older brother Edward in her arms. Is it just coincidence that St Edmund, the martyred king, bears the same name as Richard’s maternal grandfather, murdered for his loyalty to Edward II, and that John the Baptist, Richard’s patron saint, stands behind Richard presenting him to the Virgin, a reminder of the important support John of Gaunt played in his nephew’s succession and the close friendship between John and Joan? Gaunt himself had given Joan a gift of a piece representing St John, the Virgin and Child. The banner held aloft by the angel resembles the flag of St George, with its direct association with the prince. The careful composition of the piece and its allegories continue to challenge interpretation, and it is surely not unreasonable to assume that Richard would himself have noted, if not intended, the allusions to his mother.

Following Sudbury’s murder the see of Canterbury had fallen vacant, and shortly afterwards William Courtenay, Bishop of London, was appointed his successor. Although there is no direct evidence to indicate Joan’s influence, it seems likely that she was at least partly responsible for the elevation in September of her kinsman, Robert Braybrooke, to the bishopric of London, a position Robert held until 1404. It was an appointment of great personal significance and joy for Joan, ensuring that Robert was now at hand to provide family support for Richard and Joan. Like Joan, Robert appears to have eschewed politics. Although he was appointed chancellor a year later, on 20 September 1382, unlike Sudbury and Courtenay Robert proved wary of becoming involved in politics, and his chancellorship was brief (he resigned 10 March 1383).¹⁰⁵ In contrast to Courtenay he was on good terms with John of Gaunt. Both men shared a deep affection for Joan. The destruction of the Savoy left Gaunt without a London home, and when Gaunt returned to London, he was given hospitality by Robert many times in his Fulham residence, and Joan may well have joined them on these occasions.¹⁰⁶ Thomas and John Holand were also duly rewarded for their part in the revolt. Even if neither had shown initiative or leadership during the crisis they had both been at their brother’s side throughout and more than demonstrated their loyalty. In the immediate aftermath Richard entrusted his eldest half-brother Thomas with the task of dealing with the rebels in Kent, and in recognition of his service granted him an annuity of £100, while John was also enlisted in the peacemaking process by being appointed a justice of the peace in Cheshire.¹⁰⁷ A few months later, in the autumn, and no doubt after prior consultation with his mother, Richard granted Thomas his father’s title of Earl of Kent, and Joan vested in him the Kent holdings which had accompanied the title when her father received it in 1321: the manor at Wickhambreaux and the annual county farm fees of £30.¹⁰⁸

Of even more importance for Joan was the resumption of the arrangements for Richard’s marriage, interrupted by the rebellion. The negotiations were finalised, with Thomas Holand being part of the team sent to meet King Wenceslaus, receiving £133 6s 8d in expenses for going to Flanders.¹⁰⁹ Anne left Bohemia in the autumn, travelling slowly across Europe, and in December 1381 Simon Burley, John Holand and John Montague, steward of the royal household, were entrusted with the delicate task of accompanying her to England.¹¹⁰ On 18 December Anne crossed from Calais to Dover, moved on to Canterbury and from there to Leeds Castle in Kent where she stayed for Christmas. She arrived in London on 18 January and was married to Richard two days later in Westminster Abbey with Robert Braybrooke officiating. The honour of conducting the ceremony should arguably have gone to the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Courtenay, but he had not yet been officially designated in post. Robert Braybrooke had been involved in the marriage negotiations at an earlier stage, and now, as Bishop of London and a close family friend, he was an obvious choice. Joan’s heart must have been full, watching her close friend and kinsman officiate at her son’s wedding. On 22 January Anne was crowned in Westminster Abbey, this time with Archbishop Courtenay officiating.¹¹¹ This was followed by several days of celebrating, with a tournament and Parliament adjourned to allow its members to take part in the wedding festivities. Unfortunately the marriage was not popular and was greeted without enthusiasm, for the simple reason that Anne brought no dowry and no one could perceive any financial, and only limited diplomatic, benefit in the match.¹¹² This did not matter to Joan. Anne was granted a fixed annual dower of £4,500, exactly the same sum as had been awarded to Queen Isabella when she married Edward II in 1308.¹¹³ Although there is no evidence to suggest that Joan was in any way involved in the financial arrangements of the marriage, she probably used her influence to encourage a suitable settlement for Anne, remembering the difficulties her own mother-in-law, Philippa, had suffered, when the parlous state of her finances had induced Edward III to take them over in 1363. At least one of Joan’s trusted knights, Richard Abberbury, was attached to the new queen’s household, Abberbury acting as an attorney for Anne within four months of the marriage and becoming her chamberlain.¹¹⁴ It was quickly apparent that Richard adored his new wife. This, more than anything else, would have recommended Anne to Joan, and Joan must have felt truly satisfied with her work. Her son’s throne was safe and he was now married, his future seemed secure. With the wedding and Anne’s coronation safely accomplished, she could now safely retire.

Joan’s decision to withdraw from court into retirement was entirely voluntary. There is no indication that Richard had any wish for his mother to retire, or that he encouraged her to do so, nor is there anything to indicate anyone else suggested it. Joan was now a hugely popular and well-respected figure, and held in considerable affection by those around her. However, she was now fifty-three, and although there is no indication that she suffered ill health she was nevertheless of an age when it would have been natural for her to want to lead a quieter life. The death of her childhood companion, Princess Isabella, on 5 October 1382, and her sister-in-law’s burial in the church of Grey Friars in London, alongside Joan’s grandmother Queen Margaret, was a reminder for Joan of her own mortality. But it is unlikely that this was what motivated Joan to withdraw from court. Joan’s priority, always, was the interests of her own family. Her concern with Richard had primarily been to protect him, and with Richard having shown during the revolt that he was quite capable of looking after himself she now felt that he no longer needed her protection. She had never shown any inclination to dominate Richard or exercise overt control over him, and after the revolt Joan adopted an increasingly deferential attitude towards him, addressing him (she wrote in French) in correspondence as ‘your humble mother’ (‘fils le roi supplies u humble mere’).¹¹⁵ This was partly her individual style, as she had always had a tendency towards reverence (in 1377, for example, she had appealed humbly as ‘your daughter the princess’ to the Bishop of St Davids); nevertheless it also reflected a change in attitude, from being the protective mother to taking a more subservient and humble role, and recognising his regal authority.¹¹⁶ Richard’s marriage was the determining factor. Marriage, and his mother’s withdrawal from his side, marked Richard’s emergence into adulthood and his new independence. In practical terms, Joan may also have felt, recalling her own experiences, that it would be easier for Richard to develop his relationship with Anne, and for Anne to settle in and establish her influence, without her presence.

The last mother of a reigning king to live in retirement had been Queen Isabella, fifty years earlier, forcibly retired by her son after Edward III had seized power in 1330 and made to live in relative seclusion in Castle Rising in Norfolk to ensure that she was kept away from the court and would be unable to have the influence and power she had once wielded. With Mortimer, Isabella had constrained, overruled and humiliated her son, usurping his authority in promoting the interests of her lover and herself, and the only way Edward III had been able to achieve his independence was by removing them from power. After Mortimer’s execution, Isabella was an embarrassment and clearly could not remain at court. Nevertheless, despite her disgrace, Isabella had lived in luxurious comfort, maintained a cultured literary circle, continued to entertain on a generous scale and had been escorted regularly to attend court as her son’s guest on occasions such as Christmas. Although their circumstances were quite different, the lifestyle Joan chose to adopt was not dissimilar to that enjoyed by Isabella. With her own circle of friends and family around her, Joan seems to have adopted a modest and retired lifestyle, albeit commensurate with her status, rarely attending court.

Wallingford Castle became her main residence. Although the castle was part of Richard’s inheritance from his father, it formed part of Joan’s dower, and so would remain hers for her lifetime. Built by the Norman Robert d’Oyley of Lisieux in the eleventh century, the castle had harboured Empress Matilda when she fled from Oxford in 1141 and was later owned by Henry III’s younger brother Richard of Cornwall, so forming part of the Cornwall estates owned by Piers Gaveston, who held a magnificent tournament there in 1307, and after his death passed to Queen Isabella who used it as her headquarters when she returned to England in 1327. The castle was granted to the prince in 1335 when he became Duke of Cornwall. The castle estate included a meadow called Kingsmead, a fishery and two watermills. It had the advantage of being within easy reach of London, so that Joan could travel by barge to join Richard and the court should she wish to do so, but it was far enough away to give her some distancing from public life. There are unfortunately no records to indicate the identity of those who remained with her, but she would have had a sizeable household and this probably included her favourite knights and their wives. Among these were almost certainly her closest friend Eleanor Clifford, and Eleanor’s husband Lewis Clifford. It is also possible that her daughters were frequent visitors. Since Maud’s marriage to the Count of St Pol, it would have suited the count’s ambitions to make the most of his royal relations, and Maud may have divided her time between attendance on Richard at court and visiting her mother at Wallingford. Similarly, Joan was very close to her younger daughter, Joan, whose marriage had not proved entirely successful. The absence of Joan’s husband abroad for much of the time, fighting to re-establish himself in his homeland in Brittany, with the vacillations of the English Crown towards his cause and the duke’s own ambivalence towards his ally, had left his duchess dependent on her family in England, and there were no children of the marriage. By 1382 the duke was sufficiently settled in Brittany to require his wife’s presence, and however much Joan may have sympathised with the difficulties her daughter faced, she would have encouraged her daughter to rejoin her husband in Brittany. The young duchess would now have been about twenty-five, and had spent many months with her mother; with no idea when they might see each other again, tears were probably shed when they parted.

Joan would have continued to attend court for major occasions and seasonal festivities, including the annual Garter celebrations in April at Windsor. Possibly she was at the tournament held at Windsor in August 1382 and witnessed William Montague’s tragic accident, when he killed his only son in a tilting match.¹¹⁷ This devastating tragedy left William without a male heir, and Joan would have felt deeply saddened for her old friend’s loss. But in the main she stayed in comfortable seclusion at Wallingford, taking a more energetic and personal interest in the running of her own estates than she had formerly. This was evidently something she relished, as she could have left matters in the hands of her council, or indeed have passed some of the responsibility on to her heir. Thomas Holand was now over thirty. Married and with a growing family, he had proved his loyalty to his half-brother and demonstrated his capability. Although he was now Earl of Kent, while his mother was alive he remained considerably under-endowed for a man of his rank, as he would not become entitled to his inheritance until Joan died. Joan was by no means the only wealthy dowager whose heir would have to wait for her death in order to inherit, but she could, had she wished, have passed more of her estates to Thomas during her lifetime. Considering her wealth, the sheer number and disparate geography of her estates, it is curious that she did not. There was even an obvious portion to pass on to Thomas. Joan’s aunt, Blanche Wake, had died in July 1381, and Joan had then inherited Blanche’s dower share of the Wake estates.¹¹⁸ Having been managed separately for so many years, these estates would have been a uniquely distinct part of Thomas’ inheritance for Joan to have handed over. However, despite the good relationship Joan appears to have enjoyed with Thomas, she does not seem to have considered doing so. Possibly Joan was still overly sensitive, and feared that if she did so this would enhance Thomas’ status and might attract criticism, so potentially being damaging to Richard’s interests. However, it is also possible that Joan found in retirement that she had more interest in managing her own affairs, and that she simply enjoyed doing so, showing she had inherited some of her mother’s acumen for estate management, as indicated in her spirited insistence in November 1383 of a commission of inquiry to uphold the rights of her Warborough tenants (part of her Wallingford estate) to have the use of common land belonging to the Bishop of Lincoln, and her complaint that fishermen in Plymouth had been catching her fish for eight years and selling them without paying her dues.¹¹⁹ Also, business affairs kept her in touch with friends, such as Michael de la Pole, who became her son’s chancellor, and to whom she granted a licence to assign Maison Dieu in Myton, the Carthusian hospital at Kingston on Hull and tenement and land in Cottingham and Willerby in 1383.¹²⁰

Joan would not have spent all her time on estate management. Many of her favourite knights who stayed close by her, including Lewis Clifford, John Clanvowe, Philip la Vache and Richard Stury, were enthusiastic book owners and notably cultured and erudite. Joan probably shared their tastes, and read and listened to their and other literary works at Wallingford.¹²¹ Richard’s own later highly developed aesthetic sense, love of literature, fashion, art and refinement is usually attributed to his tutors, but it is just as likely that he inherited some of his mother’s tastes. Brought up to speak and write French fluently as well as English, by 1384 Richard is known to have owned dozens of books of French romances, ballads, songs and compositions.¹²² All of this suggests that Joan herself shared these literary interests. Probably Joan entertained, having friends to stay, such as John of Gaunt, but unfortunately there is no evidence to confirm this. She may have numbered Geoffrey Chaucer among her house guests, as he was a good friend of several of her knights. Early in 1380 Chaucer was accused of rape, and was assisted in clearing his name by his friends. In May 1380 Cecily Champagne agreed to drop the action and the document recording this was witnessed by John Clanvowe and two other knights close to Joan, William Beauchamp and William Neville.¹²³ Chaucer’s reputation survived this incident. Lewis Clifford may have been godfather to Chaucer’s son Lewis, and later Chaucer addressed a poem to Clifford’s son-in-law, Philip la Vache.¹²⁴ In view of his friendship with so many of her intimate circle it seems probable that the poet was invited to Wallingford. However, although Joan may have provided Chaucer with inspiration for his works, there is no evidence to indicate that she became his patron.¹²⁵

Although Joan maintained a close and affectionate relationship with her brother-in-law, her faith in Gaunt’s judgement had been shaken by his behaviour after his return from Scotland in the summer of 1381. More significantly, it is evident that this also irretrievably damaged his relationship with Richard. While Joan never doubted her brother-in-law’s loyalty it became quickly apparent that Richard never really trusted his uncle again, and his suspicions of Gaunt’s intentions were easily aroused. After the quarrel with Percy had been patched up at the beginning of 1382 there was little sign of open affection between uncle and nephew, and Richard was clearly wary of his uncle. At the Salisbury parliament held from 29 April to 27 May 1384, a Carmelite friar, John Latimer, gained an audience with the king and produced a document in which he detailed plots devised by John of Gaunt to seize the throne. The chroniclers’ accounts of Richard’s reaction vary, alternating between an extreme one of ordering his uncle’s arrest, or even his death, restrained only by the lords who were present insisting on Gaunt’s right to a trial, and Walsingham’s account that Richard conferred with two clerks of his chapel and summoned the duke to discuss the document. Gaunt, strongly supported by Thomas of Woodstock, naturally denied the contents of the document and was vehement in protestations of his innocence. Richard accepted his uncle’s assurances, no doubt mindful of his mother’s frequent injunctions in Gaunt’s support. At the duke’s request, the friar was taken into custody and placed in John Holand’s charge. According to Walsingham, that night Latimer was tortured to death.¹²⁶ Neither Richard nor Gaunt chose to censure either John Holand or his accomplice, Sir Henry Green. Hearing of this unsavoury incident can only have given Joan pain. Neither her brother-in-law, nor either of her sons, Richard and John, emerge from this incident with any credit. To add to her woes, in November 1384 her younger daughter, Joan, Duchess of Brittany, died. The cause of death is not known but it appears to have been sudden and unexpected. Joan had not seen her daughter since she had returned to Brittany two years earlier to join her husband, but they had an unusually close relationship as the duchess had been a part of her household for so many years. The young Joan’s death was a tragedy, and a loss Joan must have felt keenly. Joan could at least be cheered by the progress her oldest son was making with his career, as on 20 November 1384 Thomas Holand was granted the custody of the castle and town of Cherbourg, just as his father had been many years earlier.¹²⁷

In February 1385, matters between Richard and his uncle Gaunt came to a head once more, and this time Joan resolved to intervene. Despite Joan’s own fondness for her brother-in-law she was aware that her son could not bring himself to fully trust his powerful uncle, while Gaunt appeared to be incapable of showing the affection and concern towards his nephew which might have helped to restore that trust. It was perhaps fortunate that following the Latimer accusation an opportunity arose which required Gaunt’s absence from court while putting his diplomatic skills to good use. At the end of May 1384 John of Gaunt and Thomas of Woodstock were appointed to conduct peace negotiations with the French Crown, and after three months of talks a truce was concluded in September, with Gaunt returning to London the following month, in October, in time to attend the parliament that was called in November and concluded in December. It is not clear what happened between Richard and Gaunt throughout this period but there appears to have been a major disagreement of some kind. In February 1385 rumours of a plot to kill Gaunt, with Richard’s backing, alarmed the duke to such an extent that he retreated to Pontefract Castle in Yorkshire to gather support, and he then returned to London with a large armed following to confront Richard at Sheen. The chroniclers’ record that, crossing the river, Gaunt spoke harshly and bitterly to Richard, and that the young king promised his uncle he would reform his ways. Gaunt then re-crossed the river and withdrew to his castle at Hertford.¹²⁸ This was extraordinary behaviour, and however justified Gaunt’s outrage may have been, his show of power and aggression, forcing his nephew to apologise, and then failing to heal the breach by staying with him, can only have fuelled Richard’s suspicions of his uncle. This angry, proud and powerful John of Gaunt showed none of the tact or conciliatory attitude which Joan had urged her brother-in-law to adopt in previous years.

Hearing about the row, Joan was shocked by the rift and reacted immediately. Leaving Wallingford she hastened first to Richard, reminding him of the need to keep on good terms with his uncles, especially Gaunt. The chroniclers’ accounts vary slightly, one suggesting that she also criticised Richard for listening to flatterers, another that she pleaded with her son on her knees, and urged him to avoid quarrelling with his uncles and his nobles.¹²⁹ Then she travelled on to confront Gaunt (presumably still at Hertford) and persuaded him to come to London to meet Richard at Westminster, where, according to Walsingham, she pleaded with them humbly until she achieved her desire to restore peace and concord between them.¹³⁰ According to one source, Gaunt’s anger was directed at several other nobles, including the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Oxford and the Earl of Nottingham, although no reason is given for this.¹³¹ Joan’s intervention achieved the desired effect and peace was restored between the king and his uncle. But despite her success Joan must have wondered how long the restored harmony would last, reflecting sadly that her brother-in-law and her son appeared to be unable to maintain a friendly relationship.

Walsingham, in recording Joan’s conciliatory success, noted that she was ‘not strong and used to luxury, and hardly able to move because she was so fat’.¹³² He is the only chronicler to note that her health had deteriorated, and the description given suggests that she may have developed dropsy, which would cause swelling and weight gain. She was now fifty-eight, and may well have felt drained by her intercessory effort. However, Joan had recognised the urgency and significance of the situation, and had shown no hesitation in becoming involved. Perhaps only she could have intervened so successfully between her son and his uncle; certainly she had lost none of her old mediation skills. Returning to Wallingford it was perhaps a relief for Joan to throw herself back into her own affairs, and she showed both the energy and the desire to do so. In May 1385 she formally requested of Richard ‘that it may please her son, of his especial grace, to grant to his mother that she may make Justices by her own commission to hold their Sessions from time to time at their leisure, and for the greater profit of the Princess; and that she may do all manner of things that belong to the office of justice in those parts within the precinct of all her dower, … and issue all manner writs and commissions by her deputies under the seal of the princess in the same parts as entirely and fully as her son does’.¹³³ This was unusually forceful and vigorous for Joan and indicates a strong determination to be proactively involved in managing her own affairs. Possibly she realised that this would be her last opportunity to do so.

It is generally considered that the panegyric written about the prince by the herald of Sir John Chandos was composed during 1385. Several copies of the work survive, and it is elaborately and expensively decorated, indicating a wealthy patron arranging its publication.¹³⁴ John Chandos had been a close companion of the prince and had predeceased him by some years, while the prince himself had been dead for nine years. It may just be coincidence that the work was written during the last year of Joan’s life, but it is possible that it was done at her behest, or that she was influential in encouraging its composition and accomplishment. The literary tribute to the prince is a chronicle of his life, written in French verse, primarily commemorating his feats of arms, though biographical details of his life are included. The poem describes the Battle of Crécy and the siege of Calais, gives details of the Poitiers campaign and an eyewitness account of the Nájera campaign, with an overview of the government in Aquitaine, and describes the prince’s last years, listing his chief officers and a copy of the epitaph on his tomb. The composition is elaborately decorated with a frontispiece comprising a full-length miniature of the prince in gold and colours, one part of Trinity and second of the prince kneeling in adoration on a red cushion, clad in armour wearing leather jupon without sleeves, emblazoned with the arms of England and France, with sword and dagger, golden elbow, kneecaps and spurs, large silver ostrich feather and his motto, ‘Ich dene’. The prince’s victories and achievements are admired and celebrated, while the prince himself is described in terms which leave no doubt that the writer considered the prince to be the premier chivalric knight of his generation. The poem is a magnificent literary tribute, possibly intended for presentation to Richard, although the fact that more than one copy survives suggests it was intended for wide distribution. It had clear propaganda value for Richard as the prince’s son. Joan is only mentioned in the poem eight times, although she is described in complimentary terms. In the words of Chandos Herald Joan was ‘une dame de grant pris, Qe belle fuist, plesante et sage’ (a lady of great worth, beautiful, pleasant and wise). It was also during 1385 that Richard commissioned a series of thirteen sculptures of the kings of England to adorn the Great Hall at Westminster, probably from Edward the Confessor to himself ¹³⁵ This was a grand project and clearly designed to be a display of royal lineage, with an emphasis on Richard’s paternal ancestry. Richard may well have discussed it with his mother, and certainly she would have heartily endorsed it.

Early in June, meeting in Reading, the king’s council agreed that, following the renewal of hostilities between Scotland and England after the arrival of a French force in Scotland, Richard should lead an expedition into Scotland. He would be accompanied by most of the leading nobility, including his uncle Gaunt. The duke was by this time back on good terms with his nephew, and with his peers. This was Richard’s first military campaign and in honour of the momentous occasion, as was customary, there were noble promotions. The king created his uncles Edmund and Thomas dukes of York and Clarence respectively, and Michael de la Pole, the chancellor (and a friend of Gaunt’s), Earl of Suffolk. Richard and Anne visited Joan at Wallingford before he left, the occasion recorded for posterity by a contemporary depiction of Chaucer (in a picture on the frontispiece of an original copy of his work Troilus and Criseyde) reading his works to the royal family at Wallingford.¹³⁶ Taking leave of his mother, Richard was mindful of earlier dangers and careful to leave her well attended, ordering a number of her favourite knights to ‘assist continually about the person of the king’s mother for her comfort and security wherever she shall abide within the realm, rendering other services so befitting the estate of so great a lady’. The men ordered to stay with Joan were her knights Lewis Clifford, Richard Stury, Philip la Vache, Thomas Latimer, her steward John Worthe, her clerks William Harpele, Lawrence Sebroke and Henry Norton, and Thomas Morwell, William Fitzrauf, Gilbert Wace, Garnius Arnaud and Richard Mewes.¹³⁷

The royal army set out late in June and made its way slowly north. Accompanying Richard were Thomas and John Holand. Unfortunately the campaign got off to a disastrous start. John Holand, whose charismatic personality seems to have endeared him more to Richard than his older and steadier brother, had already shown a regrettable tendency towards thoughtless and uncontrolled violence. As the army neared York a quarrel broke out between John’s retainers and those of Ralph Stafford, son of the Earl of Stafford and one of Queen Anne’s household knights. One of John Holand’s squires was killed, and Stafford’s men fled to sanctuary at Beverley. Shortly afterwards, and it appears by chance, John Holand met Ralph Stafford near York. Unluckily it seems that neither were able to restrain themselves from making the quarrel personal, and in the ensuing fight, John killed Stafford. This was appalling behaviour for which there could be little excuse. Once news of Ralph Stafford’s death reached Richard, the king had no choice but to react immediately. Richard ordered John’s arrest and confiscated his property, swearing that John would have to face the full rigour of the law. According to the chroniclers, Richard was absolutely furious with his half-brother, as well he might be. John’s intemperance, his failure to make any attempt to explain his actions or apologise for them, amounted to a personal affront, and the king was not going to leave this unchallenged. Thomas suffered indirectly for his brother’s heinous crime, being replaced as earl marshal on 30 June by the Earl of Nottingham.¹³⁸ Yet, despite Richard’s fury, he does not seem to have suggested that John should be tried for murder and executed for his crime. When the news reached Joan, she was aghast. Desperately afraid of the consequences for both her sons, she tried to intervene. The distances were too great for her to take to the road and talk to Richard in person, and she had to rely on messengers instead, sending them to beg Richard, according to Walsingham, ‘not to reject so small a request of his mother, but to pity his brother, to pity his mother, and as a brother to show greater pity because he was his brother’. Her messengers included Lewis Clifford and reached the army before it left Carlisle.¹³⁹ Richard was too angry to listen and Lewis Clifford returned to Joan empty-handed. For once Joan was unable to deal with this crisis. She was too ill. Her health failed her, and she collapsed. According to Walsingham, ‘it may be that because she was weighed down by too much grief she collapsed on her bed, and after four or five days she died’.¹⁴⁰ Conscious that she was dying, on 7 August Joan made her will, and she died the following day, on 8 August 1385.

Richard’s reaction, when he heard of his mother’s death, can only be imagined. The chroniclers were firmly of the view that the row had caused Joan’s death, and that she had died of grief. More prosaically, Joan had probably been unwell for several months, and this fresh disaster had simply exacerbated her condition. Joan had experienced many difficult situations in her life, and she would surely have felt confident of her ability to manage this one if she had been fit enough to do so. At her bedside in her last hour, perhaps she was comforted by the presence of her daughter Maud and her good friend Eleanor. Although Joan died very quickly after her collapse, she was able to put her affairs in order and make her arrangements. She remained concerned with her children and their affairs to the last, as the provisions of her will showed. Her principal beneficiaries were her three sons, and if she had any doubts about John’s future, she sought to dispel them by making equal provision for him in her will, a clear sign to Richard that she expected the king to find a way to forgive and rehabilitate his errant brother.

In her will, Joan committed her soul to God, the Virgin Mary and the saints, and specifically affirmed her adherence to the Catholic faith, ‘fiden catholicam firmiter proficiendo’. This was a somewhat unusually adamant profession of faith, which might possibly reflect a greater piety than Joan had been willing to show publicly, but it could also have been intended to dispel any lingering doubts there might be about her having heretical Lollard sympathies, as Joan had always been concerned that any slur on her reputation might adversely affect Richard. Her ‘dearest son’ Richard was her principal beneficiary, and she left him her new red velvet bed embroidered with silver ostrich feathers and heads of leopards in gold with boughs and leaves issuing from their mouths, with all her belongings in her wardrobe in London (‘meum de velvet rubrum novum operat’ in broderieria cum pennies ostric’ argent’ et cum capit’ leopardor, de auro’ cum ramis et foliis argenteis procedentibus et utraquw parte quolibet ore ipso’ cum appartu prout est in custodia garderobe mee London’). He was also to have the residue of her estate. She left Thomas a red camaca bed decorated in red and gold with a canopy quilt decorated with hatchments, and a quantity of rich furnishings.¹⁴¹ John, also described as her ‘dearest son’, was similarly gifted a red camaca bed and canopy with luxurious coverings of silk curtains, tapestry and a scarlet fur cover. Joan only named her three sons as individual beneficiaries and it is evident that she intended them to understand from the gifts and her language that she was regarded them all with equal affection. Joan carefully stipulated that her executors should have a year to pay her debts, and discretion to make payments to her servants, according to their ‘quality and merit’, thus ensuring that her executors would have complete freedom to reward her retainers as they saw fit, probably in accordance with instructions she had already given. Joan made no other individual gifts; significantly, she does not mention either her beloved daughter Maud or her good friend Eleanor, nor did she make any gifts of alms, or to religious houses, or any other endowments. These omissions were clearly quite deliberate. By making her three sons the only named beneficiaries in her will Joan was sending them a message that she could not deliver in person, reminding them of their relationship, stressing the importance of family. She could, and probably did, make provision for Maud and Eleanor and any other family or friends by giving them gifts before her death or by separate instruction to her executors. Similarly, any patronage she chose to make was kept private, and if she made any deathbed provision she was careful to ensure it was sufficiently modest not to be noted. As she lay dying, Joan’s first thoughts were for her family.

Joan appointed as executors to her will the following: her ‘dear friend’ and cousin Robert Braybrooke; William Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester; John Lord Cobham; William Beauchamp; William Neville; Simon Burley; Lewis Clifford; Richard Abberbury; John Clanvowe; Richard Stury; Philip la Vache (wrongly named ‘John’ Vache); her steward John Worthe; her ‘dear’ chaplains William Fulbourne (who had been with her since she married the prince in 1361) and John Yernmouth; her ‘dear’ squire William Harpele; and William Norton (this was probably meant to be Henry Norton).¹⁴² The will was witnessed by the prior of Wallingford and John James, and it was proved on 9 December 1385. Joan’s will was written in Latin; bearing in mind that it was written the day before she died, the choice of language was probably that of her clerk rather than Joan herself, as her own preference would more likely have been French, used by the prince and later John of Gaunt. Joan appointed sixteen executors in her will, a quite extraordinary number. No estate, however complex, would require the appointment of so many executors. The prince, in contrast, had named eight, while even Edward III had been content to appoint only ten. It is obvious that Joan had another motive for nominating so many people to be her executors, and as she had never sought attention for herself it is unlikely that she chose so many to signify her own importance. Therefore the reason had more to do with the individuals she named than with herself, and while it can only be speculative to suggest this, it seems likely that Joan was using the office of executor as a means of protecting, as well as rewarding, those closest to her. It is notable that, although all the knights appointed were loyal and close friends of long standing who had served first the prince and then Joan faithfully over many years, apart from Simon Burley and Richard Adderbury, the others – William Beauchamp, William Neville, Lewis Clifford, John Clanvowe, Richard Stury and Philip la Vache – were all Lollard sympathisers. Joan would have been aware that the Church was becoming more aggressive in its attack on the Lollard heresy, and appointing them as her executors may have been in part an attempt by her to ensure them future royal protection, relying on Richard respecting her wishes and preventing the prosecution of any of his mother’s executors.

After her death, Joan’s body was wrapped in waxed linen cloths and placed in a lead tomb at Wallingford to await Richard’s return from Scotland. In September various members of Richard’s household received cloth to use as liveries for mourning for Joan. These included Clanvowe, Clifford, Philip la Vache and Geoffrey Chaucer, the latter receiving three and a half ells of black cloth.¹⁴³ In her will Joan requested burial in the chapel at Stamford, next to the memorial to Thomas Holand; this was also where Blanche Wake was buried.¹⁴⁴ Joan left no instructions regarding her final journey, and there are no records detailing it. It would not have taken place until after Christmas 1385 as Joan was finally laid to rest in January 1386, in ‘a sumptuous chapel recently built next to the choir’, and Richard ensured that his mother’s burial place was kept in good repair.¹⁴⁵ Unfortunately the church in Stamford no longer exists and there is no trace of Joan’s tomb. There is now no way of knowing what kind of tomb or memorial was erected for Joan, as there is no evidence from the royal accounts of any expenditure by Richard which might reveal this. The prince, Edward III and Philippa all had grand and imposing marble tombs with a life-size effigy of themselves made from bronze placed on top, and Richard arranged something similar for himself and Anne (though it was Henry V who ensured that Richard’s wishes were carried out in respect of his own tomb). It seems unlikely that Joan would have wanted this kind of memorial for herself, especially as she had stipulated burial in the chapel at Stamford, which was a far humbler setting than Westminster Abbey and Canterbury Cathedral, and no doubt Richard followed his mother’s wishes in providing her with a far less ostentatious monument.

Joan’s request that she be buried at Stamford with Thomas Holand, rather than with the prince in Canterbury Cathedral, is intriguing. Having endowed two chantries at Canterbury when they were married, and stipulated in great detail his own burial in the cathedral, there can be little doubt that the prince anticipated that his wife would join him there, but it is clear from Joan’s will that she did not want this. It is possible that even as she lay dying Joan was anxious not to draw attention to herself and wanted to be as unobtrusive in death as she had tried to be in life. The prince had not been buried as he stipulated, in the chapel of Our Lady Undercroft, and his tomb had been placed beside the altar in the main body of Canterbury Cathedral.¹⁴⁶ Had Joan been placed beside him she would have occupied a very public and prominent position in the cathedral, and her burial would inevitably have attracted considerable attention. Perhaps as she lay dying Joan felt concern that her death might renew the controversy over the legality of her marriage, with unforeseen consequences for Richard. But the other, and more probable, explanation is that Thomas Holand had been the great love of her life, and she wanted to be with him in death, and that this was in the end more important to her than any possible awkwardness this might cause Richard. It is touching, and to Richard’s credit, that he respected his mother’s wishes and had no hesitation in carrying out her instructions.

There is no way of knowing how Joan’s Holand children felt when she died. As they all enjoyed a good relationship with their mother, there must have been a genuine sense of loss for all of them, and not just for Richard. Joan had been a stabilising influence in all their lives, and she had worked hard to keep them together as a family. Her Holand sons may well have had mixed feelings. Maybe John Holand was full of remorse, as he would have been aware how much distress his conduct had caused his mother. Perhaps for Thomas there was secret relief, as his mother’s death at last released to him the huge Kent estates. They would both have been conscious of the influence their mother had exercised on Richard in restraining his inclination to advance them in his service, and now that bar had been removed; John in particular was ambitious. But she had died just as John was in disgrace and estranged from Richard. It would have been natural for him to feel some apprehension, as their mother had always been the one to heal any family rifts, and now she was not there to intercede on his behalf with Richard over the Stafford murder. John could not be sure that Richard would not impose a heavier punishment on him in addition to the forfeiture of his possessions, while Thomas too was conscious that he had fallen out of favour because of his brother’s behaviour. Maud’s grief was less complicated, as she did not gain materially from her mother’s death; instead she lost the companionship of someone she had been very close to and with whom she had lived for most of her life.

Richard’s grief cannot be gauged. When news of her death reached him, he was on campaign and hardly in a position to abandon everything and return to bury her. Perhaps her death did not come as a surprise, as he may well have been conscious of her poor health when he left her in June. Did he blame John for her death? Did he feel some responsibility for his own part in the quarrel which had caused her such distress? In withdrawing from the daily life of the court, Joan had removed herself from Richard’s side as an everyday influence, and the distancing she had deliberately created would have helped Richard to miss her less than he might have done otherwise, while he also had his beloved Anne to comfort him. Nevertheless Richard was only eighteen when his mother died, and she had been at his side throughout his life, protecting, guiding, supporting and comforting him. Richard must have felt her loss keenly.

There are very few surviving reminders of Joan. The chapel at Stamford where she was buried no longer exists and there are no traces of her tomb. The only surviving contemporary picture of her is the stylised representation of her in the St Albans Abbey book of benefactors, while the boss in the ceiling in the chapel of Our Lady Undercroft at Canterbury Cathedral, if indeed it is intended to be Joan, is of insufficient detail and quality to be a good likeness. None of her possessions survive, nor any of the records made and kept for her. There is only one copy of her seal. The castles and palace she spent most time in and considered her homes, Castle Donington, Berkhamsted, Kennington and Wallingford, are either ruins or no longer visible at all. The most enduring image is the white hart emblem adopted by her son, Richard. Despite the emphasis which Joan had encouraged him to place on his paternal ancestry, he chose his mother’s emblem of the chained and crowned white hart as his personal badge. Richard’s use of the white hart is generally considered to have been formally publicly adopted at the Smithfield tournament held in 1390, five years after Joan’s death, and it then became frequently used, appearing on buildings, the royal barge, banners, textiles and seals.¹⁴⁷ There can be little doubt that his adoption of Joan’s emblem was Richard’s way of honouring his mother.