John of Gaunt was now the most hated and feared man in England. 'Oh, unhappy and unfortunate Duke!' fulminated Walsingham in 1376. 'Oh! Those whom you should lead in war you betray by your treachery and cowardice, and those whom you should lead in peace by the example of good works you lead astray, dragging them to ruin!' People of all ranks were suspicious and envious of the Duke's vast wealth and power, his incomprehensible — to the insular English — foreign ambitions, and the trappings of sovereignty that underlined his kingly rank; churchmen abhorred his anti-clerical stance and his patronage of John Wycliffe; his perceived military failures, his staunch advocacy of a peace policy, and the recent truce he had negotiated outraged all those who felt that the English should be winning great victories over the French, as in the glory days of Edward III and the Black Prince; and the common people, long burdened by the crippling taxes levied to pay for no more than a series of humiliating losses in the war with France, blamed John for England's misfortunes. This mounting resentment had been building for some time, and was now about to explode.
No Parliament had been called since November 1373, and such was the importance of this new session that the desperately sick Black Prince had himself carried to Westminster for it. Meanwhile, the City was loudly resonating with 'a great murmur of the people', and soon it became clear that the Commons were bent upon challenging the authority of the Crown itself, and that their chief targets were the corrupt influences about the King, foremost among them Alice Perrers, who were 'neither loyal nor profitable to the kingdom'. This unprecedented attack was to appear dangerously radical to the politically conservative Duke, and his honourable but ill-judged attempts to protect his father's interests were further to undermine his standing in the land.
Edward III was too infirm to attend Parliament. Thus it was that in May, the Commons dared to confront a 'very ill-at-ease' John of Gaunt in the House of Lords.' They accused the government - and, by implication, John himself - of profiteering from the war, wasting public money and corrupt practices. The King, they insisted, must 'live off his own' in future, and not burden his people with heavy taxes. John of Gaunt was inwardly infuriated by the insolence of these 'degenerate hedge-knights of tallow', as he put it.
'Do they think they are kings or princes of this realm?' he raged in private. 'Whence have they got their pride and arrogance? Have they forgotten how powerful I am? I will give them such a fright that they shall not provoke me again.' But such was the strength of parliamentary fervour that he had no choice other than to back down and graciously agree to an inquiry into the royal administration, along with the impeachment of allegedly corrupt courtiers and the banishment of Alice Perrers from court for having fleeced the King of up to £3,000 (£806,547) a year to his great damage. Never before had a royal mistress suffered such public castigation. John saw this as an attack on monarchical authority itself, and his overriding priority was to crush it, but his transparent efforts to forestall these proceedings, and his highhanded attitude towards his adversaries, only served to antagonise them further.
John was certainly in touch with Katherine Swynford during this tumultuous time; she had perhaps joined him at the Savoy after his return from Bruges, and she probably conceived another child during that spring. Preoccupied though he was with the tortuous affairs of Parliament, John yet found time, on 15 May, to appoint a commission to address the matter of the draining of the Fossdyke. His aim may have been to mollify the citizens of Lincoln, while at the same time protecting Katherine's own interests.
The Black Prince had had himself carried into Parliament, but he had fainted several times and been forced to withdraw to his sickbed at Kennington Palace. Claims that he supported the Commons derive mainly from the over-imaginative Walsingham and have been greatly overstated: he was far too ill to play any political role, and his overriding concern was to safeguard the rights of his nine-year-old son, Richard of Bordeaux. For six years now, the Prince had suffered the most debilitating and humiliating illness, with a recurrent 'flux, both of seed and blood, which two infirmities made him so feeble that his servants took him very often for dead'. On 7 June 1376, aware that he was dying, he made his will, and his father, his wife and his brothers gathered around his bed 'amid great lamentations. No one there could keep from tears', and there was 'great desolation at the sorrow of the King taking leave of his son forever'. The Black Prince died the following day, Trinity Sunday, leaving young Pochard of Bordeaux as the heir to the English throne. The Prince was later buried in a magnificent tomb executed by Henry Yevele in Canterbury Cathedral.
The Black Prince's death left John of Gaunt as the ailing Edward Ill's chief counsellor and hence the most powerful man in the land. 'The King no longer wished to be guided through his lords assembled in Parliament, and so he had recourse to his son, John of Gaunt, to guide himself and the realm. Until the death of the King, the Duke acted as governor and ruler of the kingdom.' The general feeling was that John was too powerful, while some feared that he had sinister designs on the Crown itself. Walsingham claims that during the Good Parliament, John demanded that the French Salic Law, which barred women from succeeding, or transmitting a claim, to the throne, be introduced into England. This would effectively have removed from the succession the heirs of his elder brother Lionel, who had left one daughter, Philippa, now the wife of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, by whom she had four children. The implication was that John wanted to be acknowledged heir presumptive after Richard of Bordeaux. For Walsingham, that was a step too near the throne, and therefore suspect, and he tells us that the Commons rejected the Duke's petition, much to the triumphant glee of the Earl of March. But this episode may just be one of Walsingham's imaginative calumnies, for it is not referred to in other chronicles. However, Parliament did take the precautions of having Richard brought before it and acknowledged as heir apparent, and of appointing a council of peers to ensure good government, designating several of their number to attend upon the Prince and protect him from his dangerous uncle.
Sadly for the Duke's reputation, it is Walsingham's so-called 'Scandalous Chronicle' (his Chronicon Angliae) that records most of the events of this time. It is hopelessly biased. The waspish and vituperative Walsingham, incensed at, and deeply suspicious of, John's patronage of the increasingly outspoken anti-clerical Wycliffe, went out of his way to record — and doubtless embroider - every evil bruit he had heard concerning the Duke. He asserted that John was a traitor to his country and his House, guilty of underhand intrigue, bribery and murder; that he was a wicked uncle, intriguing to assassinate Prince Richard, or plotting with the French King to have the boy declared a bastard; that his military campaigns had failed because of his cowardice and corruption; that he led an immoral life — the only accusation founded on fact - and had treated his first wife shamefully. But if Walsingham knew that the Duke had a mistress, he clearly did not at this time know her name, for if he had he would surely have mentioned it. He resurrected the old calumny that, back in 1362, John had had Blanche's sister, Matilda of Lancaster, poisoned so that he could claim her inheritance. No accusation was too vile or far-fetched to be levelled at the hapless Duke, and Walsingham was to continue this relentless campaign of character assassination until 1388. The sad thing was that many people were prepared to believe his allegations, with the consequence that John of Gaunt became the scapegoat for all the evils and insecurities that were plaguing the realm.
There is absolutely no evidence that John had sinister designs on the throne. He had given his oath to his dying brother loyally to serve Richard of Bordeaux, and he was always to honour it. He could indeed have challenged Richard's legitimacy, given Joan of Kent's chequered matrimonial history, but to his credit, he made no attempt to do so. Nor would the Black Prince have made his 'very dear and well-beloved brother of Spain' his chief executor had he believed that his son had anything to fear from John: this appointment, like so much else, bespeaks a deep respect and trust between the brothers.
There appears to have been a keen mutual regard between John and his widowed sister-in-law and cousin, Joan of Kent - which there surely would not have been had the shrewd Princess for a moment entertained any suspicions of John's intentions. The welfare of the young heir was a matter of importance to them both: John clearly felt a strong sense of responsibility towards Richard, for he had sworn to protect him, and he had an affection for the boy as his revered brother's son. An interest in Wycliffe's teachings was another common bond with the Princess. Soon after the Black Prince's death, John saw to it that Joan's dower rights were confirmed, ensuring her financial security, while she, on her part, was to prove warmly supportive of him in the months to come. Lavish New Year's gifts to her are recorded in John of Gaunt's Register.
On 10 July, Parliament had the temerity to refuse the Crown's request for funds, and in retaliation, an angry Edward HI had it dissolved that same day. Now, however, he 'wholly laid down the government of the kingdom and put it in the hands of the Duke, allowing him to do all he wanted'. John of Gaunt became effectively the uncrowned ruler of England, and before the month was out, his overriding influence would be made manifest, as he firmly asserted his authority and began steadily reversing and undoing all the work that Parliament had done, high-handedly reinforcing the supremacy of the Crown and making many enemies in the process, yet at the same time establishing himself as the supreme champion and defender of royal power.
John then rode north to Pontefract Castle in Yorkshire, probably with Katherine in his train, and it was there, on 25 July, that he granted her the wardship and marriage of the heiress of Bertram de Sauneby, in recognition of the 'good and agreeable' service she had rendered, and continued to render, 'to our dear daughters'." Again, this grant may mark a new pregnancy." When John returned to London in the early autumn, 'he permitted the King to receive back into grace many who had been perpetually banished from his presence': the courtiers displaced by Parliament were pardoned and restored to their former places, while Alice Perrers hastened back to the side of a grateful Edward III. On 7 October, the ailing King made his will and named John of Gaunt as his chief executor.
Nine councillors were dismissed. William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester and founder ofWinchester School and New College, Oxford, had been active in leading the clerical opposition to the Crown in Parliament, and was to prove a lifelong enemy of John Wycliffe. Wykeham had been dismissed as Chancellor in 1371, but recalled by the Good Parliament. He typified the career churchmen so detested by Wycliffe, while John of Gaunt was determined to target the wealth of the Church, which enjoyed immunity from taxation, and was incensed that Wykeham had supported Parliament to the detriment of the King. Thus it may have been the Duke who prompted Wycliffe to preach against Wykeham in London. But the new Bishop of London, William Courtenay, a young aristocrat of great ability and energy, was a supporter of Wykeham, and deplored John's perceived anti-clericalism, while the Londoners themselves had their own grievances against the Duke: they resented his interference in the City, believing that he cherished 'an ancient hatred' against their jealously guarded liberties. In actuality, John was keen to protect the interests of struggling artisans and small craftsmen in the face of the financial might and monopolies wielded by the wealthy merchants and trade guilds.
In October, still relentlessly moving against his enemies, the Duke accused William of Wykeham of misappropriating public funds, and presided over the judicial proceedings taken against him; on 17 November, Wykeham was stripped of his temporalities and banished from court. It was perhaps around this time that the Duke's infant son by Constance died, a tragedy that must have hit John hard.
That same month, Walsingham claims, John attempted to chasten the Earl of March by ordering him to Calais, but the Earl refused to go, so he was forced to resign his office of Marshal of England, which was assigned by John of Gaunt on i December to his cousin Henry, Lord Percy, one of the foremost northern barons, in a successful attempt to buy the latter's loyalty. What is more likely is that March resigned the marshalship because he was needed in Ireland. However, Peter de la Mare, Speaker of the Commons during the Good Parliament, was a target of the Duke's wrath: he was sent to prison. In January, Adam Houghton, Bishop of St David's, a friend of the Duke, and of his first wife, Blanche, was appointed Chancellor of England. In his prologue to Piers Plowman, William Langland refers scathingly to the 'rout of rats' by 'a cat of the court' - John of Gaunt — who...came where he liked And leapt over them lightly, and caught them at his will, And played with them perilously, and pushed them about.
Meanwhile, on 20 November, in belated response to the urgings of the Commons in the Good Parliament, Richard of Bordeaux had been created Prince of Wales. On Christmas Day, the King hosted a great feast in Westminster Hall, at which all the peers, led by John of Gaunt, knelt in turn and solemnly swore allegiance to Richard as the heir to the throne; then the boy was placed next to his grandfather at table, above the Duke and the King's other children. This was a tactical move, no doubt orchestrated by John himself, to demonstrate that he was no threat to Richard but loyally supported him as heir to the throne. On 25 January, further underlining his commitment, John of Gaunt and his brothers attended a great open-air entertainment put on by the Londoners for the Prince, with mummers in fantastic costumes parading by torchlight, and prizes to delight a young boy.
It was during that turbulent year of 1376-7 that Katherine Swynford received her first recorded payment, of £50 (£13,442), for the wardrobe and chamber expenses of Philippa of Lancaster. The Duke also arranged for her to be paid £100 (£28,885) a year in equal portions, at Easter and Michaelmas, to meet these expenses, for which she was to issue letters of acquittance under her seal — which sadly does not survive. This grant suggests that she was caring for her charges throughout the tumultuous period of the Good Parliament and its aftermath; Elizabeth, as the younger daughter, would have shared her sister's chamber. The Duke ordered these payments to be made to William Oke, the clerk of his Great Wardrobe, so perhaps both governess and charges were in residence at the Savoy for much of the period. John's readiness to entrust such large sums to Katherine demonstrates his confidence in her integrity and her financial acumen.
The closeness and family solidarity increasingly and enduringly demonstrated between the Lancastrian children, the Swynfords, the Beauforts and the Chaucers suggests they had all known each other from childhood, so it is quite likely that Katherine had her own children with her when she was acting as governess to the princesses, and that the Chaucer children were in evidence too, in Constance's household with their mother. It is not beyond the bounds of probability that Katherine's royal charges sometimes came to stay with her at Kettlethorpe, just as they sojourned from time to time in other households. These arrangements meant that all the children grew up in an environment in which learning, literature, poetry, religion, the arts and intellectual debate were strong elements, and that they would have absorbed those influences from their infancy, even the girls being encouraged to participate, for John of Gaunt was the most enlightened of mediaeval men in that respect, and Katherine was herself a cultivated and intelligent woman. Furthermore, it is obvious that John's legitimate children were fond of Katherine, and readily accepted her children by their father as their half-siblings, even embracing her Swynford children within the family circle.
The effects of such an upbringing are apparent in the success that all these children were to achieve in later life. That success, and the establishing of close and harmonious relationships within what could have been a highly dysfunctional family, must largely be a tribute not only to John of Gaunt's forceful character and influence, but also to Katherine's tact, humanity and obvious gift for getting the best out of people.
All the evidence suggests that Katherine and John were good and caring parents, whose children grew up to love and respect them. Judging by the gifts that attended their arrival, the births of the Beauforts were welcomed by the Duke, who must have seen them as a means of extending his affinity and influence. But there was more to it than that. John, whose devotion to his offspring by Katherine was commented upon by Froissart, was to prove diligent in securing for them a place in society that befitted their noble birth, and in promoting their interests, whilst cautiously ensuring that these did not infringe upon the rights of his legitimate heirs, a policy that would have pre-empted any jealousy on the part of the latter. As for Katherine, 'she loved the Duke of Lancaster and the children she had with him, and she showed it'.
In 1376, probably at the intercession of John of Gaunt, the Pope granted permission (an 'indult') for 'Catherine de Swynford', in the diocese of Lincoln, to have a portable altar in her lodgings, which is surely further testimony to her piety, although we might wonder if the Pontiff was aware of her adulterous relationship with the Duke, or if her conscience was ever troubled by it. Could she have gone to confession, knowing she was committing a sin in the eyes of the Church every time she slept with him? Or did she confess these transgressions, sincerely intending each time not to commit them again, but failing miserably? We have no way of knowing.
Katherine's disappearance from the records during the turbulent latter months of 1376 was probably occasioned by advancing pregnancy: it is likely that she bore her third child by John in the early months of 1377. This was a dramatic and highly publicised period in the Duke's life, but nowhere is there any mention in the chronicles of Katherine, who may well have been in seclusion at Kettlethorpe or elsewhere at this time. It might be significant that, on 25 February, Edward III licensed John to grant to Katherine for her lifetime the ducal manors of Gringley and Wheatley in Nottinghamshire, which were jointly worth more than £150 (£52,428) per annum; this grant perhaps marked the birth of a third child, and the rents from these manors were possibly intended to provide for its upbringing, as might have been the profits from the Sauneby wardship, granted by John the previous July when the pregnancy would have been confirmed. The Duke also presented Katherine with a tun of wine at this time. Armitage-Smith opines that it was Thomas Beaufort who was born early in 1377, but this third child was probably Katherine's only daughter by John, Joan Beaufort, perhaps named in honour of the Dowager Princess of Wales, who was demonstrating such kindness and friendship to the Duke at this critical time. The usual date given for Joan's birth is 1379, but that would mean that she was barely fourteen when her first child was born around 1393, and the pattern of grants is not repeated in 1379. An earlier birth date of 1377 is probably more realistic.
Joan may have been born at Kettlethorpe, but given the political situation at this time, her birth perhaps took place elsewhere. For John of Gaunt was so hated in the country that anyone connected with him was at risk — as would be proved dramatically in February1377 — and Katherine, as his mistress, was especially vulnerable. Professor Goodman, who places Joan's date of birth in 1379 with reservations, has suggested that she was delivered at Pleshy in Essex, the residence of Joan FitzAlan, Dowager Countess of Hereford, Essex and Northampton. The Countess was the daughter of Eleanor of Lancaster, a sister of Duke Henry, and she, like her late husband, Humphrey de Bohun (pronounced Boon), enjoyed an enduring friendship with John of Gaunt. Her elder daughter Eleanor had just married Thomas of Woodstock, John's youngest brother, who would be created Earl of Buckingham on 16 July 1377. Given the fact that the latest Beaufort was christened Joan, and was later welcomed into the household of the Countess's younger daughter Mary, it is indeed possible that she was born at Pleshey Castle near Chelmsford, and that the Countess acted as her sponsor.
The King confirmed the grant of Gringley and Wheatley at Sheen on 4 March 1377. The acquisition of these two manors, both situated not far from Kettlethorpe, added considerably to Katherine's income; she was by now a fairly wealthy woman.
Gringley-on-the-Hill is a pretty village perched eighty-two feet above sea level, twelve miles to the north-west of Kettlethorpe, and boasts beautiful views over Nottinghamshire, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, and a church with a Norman arch, dedicated to St Peter and St Paul. To the east is Beacon Hill, the site of the original Saxon settlement. The mediaeval manor had been granted to John of Gaunt by Edward III, and between 1372 and 1377, John had kept the manor house and its chambers in repair. There was good hunting to be had nearby: in his Register, the Duke refers to 'the West Park' and 'our parks of Gringley'. Katherine surely would have visited, and stayed at, this desirable property.
Wheatley, which is mentioned in Domesday Book and was granted to John of Gaunt by Edward III, is now two villages, North and South Wheatley, but in Katherine's time it was a manor set in woodland, and famous for the strawberries that grew there. It is situated three miles south of Gringley and nine miles north-west of Kettlethorpe.
At some unspecified date, possibly in 1377, Katherine was also granted the manors of Waddington and Wellingore in Lincolnshire. The entry in John of Gaunt's Register (which is erroneously dated 1354, at the Savoy) states that these properties were bestowed on her in reward 'for the good and loving service which Lady Katherine Swynford has rendered to our late dearly beloved Duchess'.
Waddington lies about five miles south of Lincoln, and had formed part of the Lancastrian inheritance. Wellingore is five miles further south, and ten miles east of Newark on the Lincoln road. Originally a Saxon settlement and Domesday village, it occupies a magnificent position on the Lincolnshire Cliff, with the old village built of light brown stone lying to the west, where the escarpment rises 260 feet above sea level; below is the valley of the River Witham. Apart from the heavily restored twelfth-century church, the ruined stone cross by the old main road is the only surviving mediaeval structure; the Manor House to the north, and Wellingore Hall, set in extensive parkland to the south, both date from the eighteenth century.
Katherine was at Nottingham, or had business there, some time during
1377, for her seal was used there by John, son of Walter de Dunham, in witness of a document. John de Dunham was a prominent merchant and burgess of Bishop's (later King's) Lynn in Norfolk; he owned at least one shop there in the 1370s, and served as one of the town's chamberlains in1377-8. His father, Walter, had held the same office in 13 40-1. The Dunham family was spread all over East Anglia and the East Midlands, while an earlier John de Dunham's will had been dated at Lincoln in 1346.Katherine's links with the family probably arose through trading connections, for at some point she too owned a house in King's Lynn (see Chapter 10), while Dunham's use of her seal suggests a degree of friendship between them.
Katherine's fortunes may have been in the ascendant in 1377, but John of Gaunt's were under serious threat. His reversal of the decisions of the Good Parliament had made him even more hated and feared than before. It was probably around this time that his daughter Philippa's former nurse, a lady known only as Maud, wrote warning him that five friars of Canterbury 'have wickedly and treacherously spoken of you, my very redoubtable lord'. She beseeched him to protect himself'well from them and all others, in God's name'. Did Katherine tremble for her lover when she heard of such things?
Parliament had reassembled on 27 January, with Prince Richard and John of Gaunt presiding. It has often been said that it was packed with John's supporters, but the evidence does not bear this out.35 Nevertheless, due to the Duke's influence, much of the legislation of the Good Parliament was formally reversed.
By this time, disturbing rumours that John of Gaunt was a changeling were causing 'great noise and great clamour' in London and the rest of the kingdom. They appear to have been spread by the banished William of Wykeham (although he was to deny that) and/or his supporters in a bid to topple the Duke from power. It was asserted that in 1340, Queen Philippa had actually given birth to a daughter, but had overlaid and suffocated her. Fearful of confessing this to King Edward, she had substituted the little corpse for a living baby boy, the son of a Ghent labourer, butcher or porter (there are various versions of the story), this infant having been smuggled into St Bavon's Abbey where the Queen had been confined; she named him John and brought him up as her own. Philippa was said to have admitted this in confession to William of Wykeham on her deathbed in1369, insisting that, should there ever arise any prospect of John succeeding to the throne, the Bishop must break the seal of the confessional and publicly reveal the truth, 'lest a false heir should inherit England'.
For all its propaganda value, there are inherent flaws in this story. First, there was a strong family resemblance between Edward III and John of Gaunt, who had typically Plantagenet features. And second, Queen Philippa had been a lady of great integrity, unlikely to have contemplated such a deception; nor is there any evidence that Edward III was so fearsome a husband that she could not have told him of the tragedy that had occurred; on the contrary, theirs was an affectionate union, and he both loved and indulged her. Finally, had there been any substance in the story, surely the Bishop would have openly proclaimed the truth, rather than stooping to spread scurrilous unsubstantiated rumours. Unsurprisingly, few believed the tale, although there were those who were ready to use it as a weapon against the Duke. The rumours angered John himself, and doubtless hurt him, for he had cherished a high regard for his mother, but he did not stoop to contradict them. It would have been beneath his dignity to do so.
On 2 February, Convocation — the assembly of bishops — met, and demanded that William of Wykeham be present among them. Bishop Courtenay now seized his opportunity to move against Wycliffe, who had openly preached against Wykeham; he was determined to silence Wycliffe's subversive views on the Church and its wealth, and summoned Wycliffe to appear before him to answer a charge of heresy. John of Gaunt rightly saw in this an attempt to disparage himself too, for he shared those views, and he resolved publicly to champion Wycliffe's cause and discredit the bishops who had opposed him. He began by appointing four doctors of theology to undertake Wycliffe's defence.
The nineteenth of February was the day appointed for the trial of John Wycliffe. John of Gaunt and Henry, Lord Percy, backed by a band of heavily armed retainers, 'stood shoulder to shoulder' with the reformer as he arrived at St Paul's Cathedral, and forced a path through the large crowds of Londoners that had gathered there, Percy brandishing his staff of office and jostling the people aside. Bishop Courtenay was angered by the presence of the Duke and the Marshal, and a sharp quarrel erupted, with the Bishop castigating Percy for manhandling his flock, whereupon the Duke retorted that Percy would conduct himself as befitted the Marshal whether Courtenay liked it or not. This incensed both Bishop and people, who chose to interpret John's words as a further threat to the City's jealously guarded liberties, and the atmosphere grew dangerously heated.
Once the tribunal had assembled in the Lady Chapel, further harsh words were exchanged. Percy showed Wycliffe to a seat, but the Bishop ordered him to remain on his feet throughout the proceedings, at which John of Gaunt uncharacteristically lost his temper.
'Lord Percy's motion is but reasonable,' he insisted, 'and as for you, my lord Bishop, who are grown so proud and arrogant, I will bring down the pride, not of you alone, but of all the prelacy in England.' Courtenay told him to do his worst, provoking the stern warning that Courtenay need not think that his aristocratic relations would protect him from the day's repercussions, for they would be hard put to it to look to themselves. The Bishop replied that he would trust in God, not in his relatives. Angered by the Duke's threats, the people began loudly to heckle him. He warned them he would have them arrested if they persisted, but Courtenay threatened to excommunicate him if he dared to do so in his cathedral. Whereupon the Duke muttered, 'Rather than endure this, I should take him by the hair and drag him out of the church.' It was probably said in the heat of the moment, but John's arrogance and his apparent determination to ride roughshod over the privileges of the Londoners were to prove his downfall. Incensed by his treatment of their Bishop, and inflamed by a rumour that he intended to deprive them of their elected Mayor and replace him with the Marshal, the citizens exploded in anger, and the proceedings collapsed in chaos, with Wycliffe being husded away by the Duke and Percy, and escaping ecclesiastical censure for the time being. Nevertheless, he was now a marked man, irrevocably alienated from the hierarchy of the Church. As for John of Gaunt, far from directing the opprobrium of the Londoners towards the bishops, as he had intended, he had succeeded in turning it upon himself.
Percy now made matters worse by usurping the powers of a magistrate and imprisoning a London man in his official residence as Marshal, which was seen as an even more outrageous attack on the City's liberties. The next day, a rioting mob of Londoners rescued the prisoner and sacked Percy's house. Then they made for the Savoy in a murderous mood, bent on assassination. On the way, they lynched a man who spoke up for John of Gaunt, and in Cheapside, some insultingly hung the Duke's coat of arms upside down, as if he were a traitor. And they would have fired the palace itself, had not Bishop Courtenay arrived and ordered them to desist Fortunately, the Duke and Percy were not there, but dining on oysters in Thames Street at the house of Sir John d'Ypres, a wealthy Flemish merchant who was an old friend of John of Gaunt's and stood high in the favour of the King. Warned by one of his knights that 'infinite numbers of armed men' were out for his blood, and that 'unless he took great heed, that day would be his last', John leapt up so hastily from the table that he painfully crashed the backs of his legs against the wooden bench. His host offered him wine, 'but he could not drink for haste'. He and Percy fled through a back gate, commandeered a boat across the Thames and 'never stayed rowing' until they reached Kennington, where the Princess Joan was persuaded to act as mediator in the hope of calming the situation. She sent three of her knights to check the citizens, and because of the affection in which she was held, the mob gradually dispersed.
The next day, when tempers had cooled, a deputation of Londoners went to Sheen to beg the King's forgiveness for the rioting, but insisted that John of Gaunt was to blame for all their troubles. Edward III promised he would uphold the City's liberties, and to mark his golden jubilee, he would later issue a general pardon. The only person exempted from it was Wykeham — in which the hand of John of Gaunt may clearly be perceived. In the end, the Mayor and his brethren had to get to their knees, beg the Duke's forgiveness, and agree to his demand that they set up a marble pillar bearing the arms of Lancaster in Cheapside. Parliament was dissolved the next day, and the political life of the nation began to recover its equilibrium.
That Edward III approved of the Duke's recent actions is suggested by the lifetime grant he made him on 28 February of palatinate powers in the Duchy of Lancaster. This meant that John would enjoy virtually regal authority within those lands, and that the officers of the Crown could not trespass upon them. Lancaster was one of only three palatinates in England,4' and had first been elevated to that status in 1351 for Duke Henry. The grant underlined John's pre-eminence among the nobility of England. On 5 and 6 March, royal commands were issued on the basis of information supplied by him, and that same month, John had Wykeham's temporalities granted to Richard of Bordeaux, thus cleverly affirming his loyalty to the Prince and pre-empting any protests by his enemies. Edward III would have appreciated that, through the efforts of John of Gaunt, and at much cost to the latter, the royal authority had been largely restored, and that Richard would be the main beneficiary.
It is unlikely that Katherine Swynford had been in London to support her lover during these difficult weeks. She had probably just emerged from childbed, and the capital would have been a dangerous place for her, given her connection with the most hated man in England. Probably she had remained at Kettlethorpe, and would not rejoin John until the crisis had well and truly passed.
John spent Easter at Hertford, probably with Constance. He was gathering a fleet in the Port of London, in readiness for a new naval offensive against the French. On 20 April, he was back at the Savoy. Three days later, to mark the Feast of St George, Edward III dubbed Richard of Bordeaux and Henry of Bolingbroke Knights of the Garter.44 By the following month, ten-year-old Henry, who was shortly to assume his father's tide of Earl of Derby, was in the Prince's retinue.
Preparations for the offensive against the French had escalated by the end of May, but it was soon to be cancelled. On 18 June, Edward III pardoned William of Wykeham, and restored his temporalities; Wykeham is said to have achieved this through bribing Alice Perrers. Three days later, the old King suffered a stroke; its ravages may be seen in the dragging down of the mouth of the wooden effigy made for his funeral, which was taken from a death mask, and is the earliest of its kind to survive. He died at Sheen on 21 June. Left alone with his corpse, Alice snatched the rings from its fingers and fled.
Richard of Bordeaux was now King of England, and was proclaimed Richard II on 22 June. But before that, the ten-year-old King had responded to a petition from the Londoners asking if he would intervene to end the unhappy quarrel between them and the Duke of Lancaster. Later that day, a civic deputation, fearful of reprisals on the part of the Duke, went to Sheen to lay their case in full before Richard and his uncle. This led to a second formal reconciliation between the Duke and the City of London, on 27 June, with John graciously accepting the citizens' public apology for their behaviour towards him.
The accession of Richard II was greeted with rapturous acclaim. People believed that the boy King would usher in a golden age in which England, with a new champion at the helm, would recover her fortunes in the war with France, and her international prestige. Richard was an attractive child, with golden hair, blue eyes and pink cheeks, intelligent and well educated, and hopes were expressed that, as he grew to manhood, he would emulate his famous father. For the time being, he was to be left under the care and guidance of his mother and his tutor, Sir Simon Burley.
As the King's senior uncle, and the greatest nobleman in the realm, John of Gaunt was now the most important public figure in England, being powerfully influential with the young monarch. In fact, he was to be the dominant political player throughout Richard's reign, and the real ruler of the kingdom for several years of it. As such, he would prove a loyal subject of the King and the chief supporter and mainstay of the Crown. At the same time, he was actively pursuing his plans for an English invasion of Castile, with a view to breaking the Franco-Castilian alliance and setting himself up as de facto King of Castile. But Parliament proved reluctant to vote the necessary financial support; there were those who remained suspicious as to where the Duke's ambitions would lead him, and others who still believed that it was naked self-interest that was the real motive for his proposed enterprise.
It is possible that Katherine came up to London for Edward Ill's funeral, but she cannot have seen much of the Duke at this time, for he was very busy. Early in July, he claimed the right, as High Steward of England, to perform various ceremonial roles at the coming coronation. In this capacity, he presided over the Court of Claims that was set up at Westminster, which adjudicated on the allocation of ceremonial duties, and he also organised the late King's funeral, which took place on 5 July. 'To witness and hear the grief of the people, their sobs and lamentations on that day, would have rent anyone's heart.' As governess to the late monarch's granddaughters, and a respected former member of the late Queen's household, Katherine was perhaps a witness to the funeral procession; she would not have been present in Westminster Abbey, as etiquette demanded that only male mourners attend the obsequies of a king. Edward III was buried near Queen Philippa, and a fine tomb bearing an effigy of him (perhaps sculpted by Henry Yevele) was later raised to his memory.
Setting aside his grief for his father, John now proceeded to make plans for the new King's coronation, the first for fifty years. On 15 July, with a smiling John of Gaunt and Henry Percy riding before him, and the crowds unexpectedly cheering them, Richard II, clad in white to symbolise his youth and innocence, made his state entry into London, riding in procession through a packed city made festive with hangings of cloth of gold and silver, colourful pageants and free wine running through the conduits. The next day, he was crowned at Westminster in a magnificent ceremony organised by John of Gaunt; it was, enthused an optimistic Walsingham,'a day of joy and gladness, the long-awaited day of the renewal of peace and of the laws of the land'. As Earl of Leicester, the Duke carried Curtana, the blunted sword of mercy, in the procession, and afterwards, as Earl of Lincoln, acted as the King's carver during the coronation banquet. By then, the nine-hour ceremony had proved too much for the boy, who had had to be carried from the Abbey afterwards; superstitious folk, seeing one of his slippers fall off, took it for a bad omen.
Was Katherine a witness to some of these ceremonies? Hordes of people had descended upon London from all parts of the kingdom to watch the spectacle or take part, and John of Gaunt had summoned all his retainers. As governess to his daughters, Katherine had an official reason for being there. However, it is unlikely that she would have had a place in the Abbey itself. Only the wives of peers were admitted to watch the coronation ceremony, and that was a privilege that had been first extended only as recently as 1308, in honour of Edward II's wife, Isabella of France. If Katherine saw anything of the coronation, it was probably the procession, perhaps from a privileged position.
On 19 July, a council of twelve lords was appointed, which would serve under the nominal rule of the King. John of Gaunt and his brothers were not among them, nor was Henry Percy, although John's interests were well represented by five of his adherents.54John's unpopularity precluded him from ruling as regent, and there was clearly a feeling among the lords that power should be shared, although the Duke's ultimate authority was tacitly acknowledged, for the nobles went in constant fear of him on account of his 'great power, his admirable judgement and his brilliant mind’. His influence was quickly made plain, for on 20 July, the young King ratified the grants of Gringley and Wheatley to Katherine Swynford. This was the first manifestation of Richard's lasting affection and esteem for Katherine, and it attests to his desire to please his powerful uncle. On 24 July, John made Katherine a further gift of oaks for the repair of her houses at Kettlethorpe. This, as well as subsequent evidence, suggests that Katherine was in London, probably staying at the Savoy, at the time of the coronation.
The King's desire to please his uncle and Katherine Swynford may be perceived in another generous gesture. On 27 July 1377, exercising royal privilege, Richard nominated Elizabeth Chaucer, Philippa's eldest daughter, to the thirteenth-century Benedictine priory of St Helen's in Bishopsgate, London. Around the same time, he nominated Elizabeth's cousin, Margaret Swynford, Katherine's daughter, to Barking Abbey, another Benedictine house.
Barking, originally founded in the seventh century, was one of the oldest, richest and most prestigious abbeys in the land; two twelfth-century queens, Matilda of Scotland and Matilda of Boulogne, had been educated there, and the natural daughters of Henry II and King John had ruled as abbesses. As has been noted, the Abbess of Barking had the status of a baron, and ranked foremost among the abbesses of England. Only the daughters of the rich and influential were accepted as nuns of Barking, and all had to be nominated by the King. So the admission of Katherine's daughter and her niece was an exceptional and signal favour that further demonstrates the young Richard's regard for Katherine, and almost certainly reflects the influence of John of Gaunt.59 Yet despite the honour conferred, the surrender of her daughter to the cloistered existence of a Benedictine nun, at such a tender age, must have been hard for Katherine; at the same time, in dedicating a daughter to God, she was perhaps following a Roët family tradition and no doubt believed it would earn her, and her firstborn Margaret, grace in Heaven.
The King's patronage of the Chaucers did not stop there. On 26 March 1378, he was to confirm Edward Ill's 1366 grant of an annuity to Philippa Chaucer. That year, both she and Geoffrey were in receipt of substantial annuities totalling £63 (£24,464).
His state duties completed, John, realising that the euphoria surrounding the new reign would soon evaporate and that he would probably be blamed for any failure on the part of the new council to tackle the endemic problems and a fresh wave of French and Castilian attacks on the south coast, obtained leave of the King to retire to Kenilworth, and then spent the summer and early autumn of 1377 hunting in Leicestershire and assessing the defences of his castles. Katherine was probably with him. The Duke seems to have been in high good spirits, for it was supposedly at this time that, riding along the road between Bosworth and Leicester one evening, with only one servant in attendance, he saw labouring folk enjoying merry sports and dancing in a meadow at Rathby. John dismounted and enquired why they were celebrating. When told they were celebrating Meadow Mowing Day, an annual custom in those parts, he asked to join in and was made very welcome.
John was back at Westminster in time for the opening of Parliament in October, and there, on his knees before the young King, he made a dramatic plea in defence of his role in the recent political conflicts. None of his ancestors had been traitors, he declared, but good and loyal men, so it would be strange indeed if he himself were a traitor, for he had more to lose than any other subject in the realm. Therefore, if ‘any man were so bold as to charge him with treason or any dishonesty, he was ready to defend himself with his body'. At this, the Lords rose to their feet in unison, and begged him to desist from those words, since no one would wish to say such things of him, while the Commons insisted that he was free from all blame or dishonour, and that they took him for their 'principal aid, comforter and councillor'. Thus they defined the role he would fulfil in the years of the King's minority.
With the Duke publicly exonerated and vindicated, at least superficially, Parliament instituted proceedings against Alice Perrers. Charges were laid that she had unlawfully interfered in the government of the kingdom, and that she had controlled all channels of communication with the late King, even to the extent of eavesdropping through his bedcurtains on his conversations. John of Gaunt was one of the chief witnesses against her, and in his testimony revealed that he had been powerless in his attempts to curtail her activities. She was sentenced to forfeiture of her property — some of which was given to the Duke — and banishment. Her trial caused a sensation, and left the public with the impression that royal mistresses were greedy and corrupt creatures bent only on the acquisition of power and wealth, a perception that would soon rebound on Katherine Swynford.
The Duke was in Scotland for talks with the Scots in January 1378, but had returned to the Savoy by 7 February. On 4 March, he received letters of protection for himself and his retinue, in advance of a new naval campaign to crush the French and Castilian fleets.
Late in 1377, the Pope had been moved to condemn the teachings of John Wycliffe, but thanks to the protection of John of Gaunt and Joan of Kent, the reformer was allowed to stay on at Oxford and pursue his work unmolested. Undeterred by papal censure, WyclifFe now wrote a series of works challenging the Church and its teachings, and in the spring of 1378, he published a controversial treatise on the Bible, which provoked Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, to summon him before his court at Lambeth to answer for his heresy. Again, thanks to the intervention of Joan of Kent and John of Gaunt, the reformer escaped with a mild rebuke and was once more left in peace for a time. John's loyalty to Wycliffe in the face of mounting censure was staunch: regardless of his own unpopularity and any consequences that might ensue, he kept the controversial doctor under his protection, declaring that he believed Wycliffe and his followers - who were disparagingly nicknamed Lollards, or 'mumblers' - to be 'God's saints', and 'was an invincible guardian in all their needs, for otherwise they would have fallen into the pit of destruction'.
When the invasion fleet sailed on 7 April 1378, the Duke was not with it. In his 'Scandalous Chronicle', Walsingham asserts that there was growing condemnation 'for his wicked and disgraceful behaviour because he himself put aside respect for God's dread', and alleges that John delayed his arrival at the port for months for fear of the enemy's fleet — the implication being that the Duke was guilty of cowardice. It was at that point that John first appeared in public with Katherine, this being the occasion that made their affair so notorious, and one that Walsingham did not hesitate to exploit in his prolonged and determined campaign to discredit John of Gaunt. Outraged, he claimed that, having 'deserted his military duties' and 'put aside all shame of man and fear of God, [John] let himself be seen riding around the Duchy with his unspeakable concubine, a certain Katherine Swynford, holding her bridle in public, not only in the presence of his own wife, but even with his people watching on in all the principal towns of the country’. By this, Walsingham meant 'the county', and he was probably referring to Leicestershire, where the Duke was staying in March 1378.By so brazenly flaunting his mistress, John 'made himself abominable in the eyes of God'.
Walsingham says the people were indignant and despairing at this scandalous conduct, and feared that the Almighty would soon vent His displeasure by punishing the whole kingdom for the Duke's sinfulness, and he accuses the latter of betraying the King's youthful innocence and putting him and his realm in jeopardy. Monkish chroniclers invariably wrote their accounts with a view to illustrating moral precepts and demonstrating that human failings had divine consequences; the objective study of current events and history, as we know it, was rare in mediaeval times. But Walsingham may truly be reflecting the opinions of a majority of the common people, who already blamed the Duke for so many ills, and whose views on his private life might consequently not have been as accepting or forgiving as those of the aristocracy or the court. Walsingham says that it was as a result of his blatant and unashamed appearances with Katherine, whom he refers to as 'a witch and a whore', that 'the worst curses and infamous invectives started circulating against [the Duke]'. However, it may not have been the sexual relationship between the lovers that caused the greatest offence, for such affairs were common among kings and nobles, but the way he was unabashedly flaunting it publicly, to the injury of his virtuous wife, and - even more pertinently to the class-conscious and xenophobic English - the fact that Katherine was of comparatively lowly birth, and a foreigner. Above all, Katherine was tainted simply through being associated with the most hated man in the kingdom.
Walsingham's passage quoted above is the only description that survives of John and Katherine together;7' it is also the first mention of Katherine's name in any chronicle, and it is evidence that she had now become notorious. Although it is worth pointing out that no other chronicler mentions this specific public display by the lovers, Katherine was from now on to be referred to elsewhere in disparaging terms. To the monkish author of the Anonimalle Chronicle, she was 'a she-devil and enchantress', a charge that echoed Walsingham's branding of her as a witch, and was therefore highly provocative and detrimental, and reveals just how perilous Katherine's position might have become. Thomas Brinton, Bishop of Rochester, castigated the Duke from his pulpit for being 'an adulterer and pursuer of luxury', while Froissart, writing decades later, thought Katherine 'a woman of light character’. Even Henry Knighton, the pro-Lancastrian chronicler from Leicester, who admired John of Gaunt, clearly did not approve of his mistress: 'in his wife's household, there was a certain foreign lady, Katherine Swynford, whose relations with him were gready suspect'. Knighton reveals that members of the Duke's household were very concerned about the effect of their master's involvement with his mistress; they, as well as he, were aware that it was his duty, as lord and master, to set a good moral example to his servants, as the Church enjoined. John himself disclosed in 1381 that he had been repeatedly warned by his clerics and his servants of the detrimental effect his relationship with Katherine was having on his reputation, but had chosen to ignore them.
Not everyone disapproved. Katherine seems to have been held in lasting affection by the Cathedral Chapter of Lincoln, and by the Mayor of Leicester, who, probably in company with a lot of people, took a pragmatic view of her dubious position. Between 1377 and1379, he paid £3.6s.8d(1,165) for a horse and £2.os.6d (£708) for an iron pan (probably a large cauldron), both of which were presented to Katherine in gratitude for 'expediting business touching the tenement in Stretton,74 and for other business for which a certain lord besought of the aforesaid Katherine with good effect, and besought so successfully that the town was pardoned the lending of silver to the King in that year'. (The Mayor seems to have had the better part of the bargain.)
In assessing Walsingham's stance on John of Gaunt's affair with Katherine Swynford, it is important to remember that he loathed and feared John for many reasons, and always seized upon every means to discredit him; he was not above exaggerating the Duke's faults, or even making things up, and in his view John was foolish, unscrupulous and 'without conscience'.
When it came to sexual matters, Walsingham was at his most inventive, claiming that the Duke's character 'was dishonoured by every kind of outrage and sin. A fornicator and adulterer, he had abandoned lawful wedlock' and deceived both of his wives. 'He not only dared to do such things secretly and privately, but also took the most shameless prostitutes to the beds of these wives, who, grief-stricken as they were, did not dare to protest.'This assertion is uncorroborated elsewhere and entirely at variance with what we know of John of Gaunt; this particular calumny surely stems solely from the chronicler's desire to discredit the champion of the heretical Wycliffe, and it can be dismissed as pure character assassination, born of moral outrage and a fevered imagination.
Learning that John had publicly flaunted his relationship with Katherine gave Walsingham further ammunition against the hated Duke. It has been claimed that his comments about Katherine were aimed primarily at John, and were not intended to cast aspersions on her character beyond the charge of immorality, yet being branded an 'unspeakable concubine' was pretty damaging to the reputation of a woman who was, after all, governess to the Lancastrian princesses. Let it not be forgotten that adultery and promiscuity were then perceived to be far more sinful in a woman than in a man, and carried a greater stigma. The fact that Katherine did not take a second husband for twenty-four years may have been a matter of personal choice — with the Duke supporting her, she had no need to, although marriage could confer a veneer of respectability upon royal mistresses — but it may also indicate that there was a shortage of suitors due to her living in open adultery with the Duke, and that her increasing notoriety lessened her chances of remarrying.
There can be little doubt that, once it became clear that his marriage to Constance had failed, and the crises of 1376-7 had passed, John and Katherine had grown reckless and ceased to exercise the same discretion they had employed in the early years of their affair, nor that the liaison was now public knowledge. The notorious reputation and conduct of Alice Perrers had prejudiced public opinion against royal mistresses, and it would not be surprising if people viewed Katherine too as an immoral and self-seeking woman and a corrupting influence on the Duke, nor that they were incensed that the Duchess Constance should be so slighted and insulted. For if she had not been too bothered before about her husband's mistress, she had — with the affair now exposed — been forced into an impossible position that gave her just cause for complaint, and could no longer discreetly turn a blind eye to what was going on. That cannot have improved relations between her and the Duke and it appears to have led to an informal separation. Later evidence suggests that Constance felt herself to be at fault with regard to the breakdown of the marriage, and in time it was she who begged for John's forgiveness, so there seem to have been more factors at play here than his affair with Katherine, although that was probably the catalyst for the separation.
Given public sympathy for Constance, John of Gaunt's enduring reputation for lechery, as well as contemporary observations about, and responses to, his relationship with Katherine, there can be little doubt that the publicising of their affair did indeed damage his political standing in England, and ruined her reputation.
But it was certainly not Katherine who had kept John from sailing to France. On 29 April, after seeing his wife and elder daughters admitted with the Princess Joan to the confraternity of the Garter at Windsor, he was at a council meeting at Westminster, and in May, he was at the Savoy, busy commandeering the extra ships that were so urgently needed; on the 20th, he levied an aid for the knighting of his heir, Henry of Derby, and early in June, he attended another council meeting. Five days later, the invasion fleet returned to England, but when, later that month, Castilian ships threatened St Malo in Brittany, which was perilously close to home, John decided to take the offensive. On 17 June, he was appointed King's Lieutenant in France and Aquitaine, and thereafter he divided his time between Southampton and the Savoy, making preparations for his attack and waiting for a favourable wind. In July, he appointed Henry of Derby Warden of the Palatine County of Lancaster, and soon afterwards sailed for France with his navy. None of this sounds like idle dalliance with his mistress.
John spent August and September besieging St Malo, to no effect. Repulsed by the Castilians, he returned ignominiously to England in September to face accusations of cowardice and incompetence. 'And the commons of England began to murmur against the noblemen, saying how they had done all that season but little good.' There were wild and unfounded rumours that John had appropriated for himself the taxes voted by Parliament for the war, and even that he and Wycliffe were plotting the destruction of the Church itself. It seemed that the superstitious predictions of divine retribution were being fulfilled, and that John's failure to take St Malo was God's punishment for his sins.
Between 28 May and 19 September 1378, Geoffrey Chaucer had been abroad on business in Lombardy. On 21 May, before Geoffrey left, John of Gaunt arranged for Philippa Chaucer's royal annuities to be paid by the Sheriff of Lincoln and other officials from Michaelmas 1378. From this, we may infer that Philippa had taken up residence with her sister Katherine at Kettlethorpe. But what may have begun as a temporary arrangement ended up lasting for a minimum of four years, for until 1383 at least, Philippa's royal annuities were paid to her by the Sheriff of Lincoln and other officials in Lincolnshire; furthermore, from 1381 to 1386, all customs receipts were divided between Chaucer and his wife. From this, we may infer that the Chaucers had decided they were happier living apart.
It may be that they had finally agreed that they were incompatible, yet there was possibly another woman involved, for in May 1380, there is an intriguing record of Alice Perrers' stepdaughter, Cecily Chaumpaigne, releasing Geoffrey from any action resulting from 'my rape and other causes'. Rape in the fourteenth century was not necessarily a sexual crime: although it could refer to sexual assault as well as forced intercourse, it could also mean abduction. Either way, it was a serious offence, punishable by hanging (and formerly by castration), and thus very rare.
In this case, the rape — if it was that - may have involved penetration. We know that Chaucer had a son called Lewis, who was born probably in 1381; Lewis seems to have been a very bright boy because he was admitted to Oxford University when only about nine, and it was to 'little Lewis my son' that Chaucer dedicated his Treatise on the Astrolabe in 1391; at that time, Lewis had reached 'the tender age of ten years'. Given the long gap between the births of Elizabeth and Thomas Chaucer and that of Lewis, it could be conjectured that Philippa was not Lewis's mother, and some historians have credibly suggested that he was Geoffrey's son by Cecily Chaumpaigne. If so, he was perhaps not the fruit of rape, but of an affair: Cecily, with the proverbial fury of a woman scorned, may initially have pressed the rape charge in the hope of gaining some financial provision for her child. But Chaucer brought forward four eminent witnesses in his defence: the King's chamberiain and two of his household knights, as well as the Collector of Customs, Chaucer's own superior. Their testimony persuaded Cecily to drop the charge, but that there was some substance to her accusations is evident in Chaucer paying her £10 (£3,877) in compensation for her 'rape' two months later.
We can only conjecture that it was this episode that drove the Chaucers apart. What seems likely is that Geoffrey and Philippa separated on reasonably amicable terms. In the 1380s, it was he who usually went to the Exchequer twice a year to draw her annuity.90She remained a member of Constance's household, on very good terms with the Duke and Duchess. However, her removal to Lincolnshire, although apparently primarily for personal reasons, came at a time when her sister's relationship with the Duke had become notorious, and afforded her perhaps a welcome respite from the tensions in the Duchess's chamber.
Philippa and Katherine now had much in common: both were essentially femmes soles, both had dedicated a daughter to God, both were rearing sons called Thomas who were of similar age, and both were an integral part of the Lancastrian social circle, Katherine especially so. But while she was the Duke's mistress, Philippa loyally served the Duchess, and historians have conjectured that Philippa could only have looked on her sister with disapproval, and that her loyalties were painfully divided between Constance and Katherine. Yet if so, Philippa would hardly have chosen to go and live for some years with Katherine at this time and in these circumstances. It may have been a case of loving the sinner whilst deploring the sin, but her removal to Kettlethorpe perhaps reflects the need of the younger and distressed sister for the support and companionship of the elder, who had in the past demonstrated great concern for Philippa through the favours she had obtained for her and her husband. And Constance, regardless of her feelings towards Katherine Swynford, seems to have liked Philippa for her own sake; they were, after all, much of an age, and Philippa seems to have rendered excellent service to her mistress.
It may have been Geoffrey Chaucer who disapproved of Katherine, despite all the favours that her influence had procured for him. His disparaging remark about governesses with a past, and his panegyric lauding Pedro the Cruel may well reflect his opinion of his sister-in-law and his loyalty to Constance. In 'The Man of Law's Tale', the heroine - tellingly called Constance - is a model of patience and piety who accepts 'the will of
Christ' in all the misfortunes and sufferings that are laid upon her.93 This too may be a comment on the tribulations and virtues of the Duchess Constance. Certainly Katherine does not feature largely — or features barely at all — in the surviving records of Chaucer's life, and it may be that, after his separation from Philippa, he had as little to do with her as possible. His attitude towards her may have been a further source of discord between the Chaucers.
With Philippa in residence at Kettlethorpe, it would surely have been a lively household. When she was not in attendance on the Duchess, Philippa would have had her ten-year-old son with her.Thomas Swynford, probably a year older, and the young Beauforts were playmates for him. As there is no record of her marriage, we may suppose that Blanche Swynford, who would have been about fifteen in 1378, had already died, but possibly her sister Dorothy was still at home. John Beaufort was now about five, Henry possibly three and Joan not quite two. It would have been a chaotic household, with all the building works that were going on at this time, and of course the lady of the manor was often away. Katherine was probably with John when he was at Leicester Castle on 4 October, for on that day he issued letters patent permitting her to cut down oak trees at his manor of Enderby in Leicester Chase, 'and to sell or carry this wood wherever she wishes, and use the profits for her own use'.94 It was probably used for the ongoing renovations atKettlethorpe, which by now must have begun to look very imposing indeed; it was perhaps in this period that the great stone gateway was built. To all appearances, Katherine's was now a lordly household, reflecting the wealth and social position of its mistress.
Katherine probably went home to supervise the new works she was planning when John rode south to Gloucester, where Wycliffe was allowed to address Parliament, which assembled there in late October. That was to be Wycliffe's political swansong. The following year, 'this second Satan' would attack the sacrament of the Eucharist itself, whereupon the deeply orthodox Duke began to distance himself from his former protege - 'he was deceived, as were many others'. In 1380, Wycliffe was ordered not to preach, and the following year his heretical views on transubstantiation were condemned by the Church. He had just completed his translation of the Bible into English, but his works were all condemned and banned in May 1382. By then, John of Gaunt had severed all connections with him, and he had retired to Lutterworth, where he died of the effects of a stroke in 1384. His bones were exhumed and burned in 1419, under a heresy law that had not been in force in his lifetime.
Nevertheless, when Parliament, in 1395, proposed the burning of Wycliffe's Bible, John of Gaunt, with 'great oaths', spoke up in its defence. 'Other nations have God's law in their own mother tongue,' he argued, 'and we will have ours in English.'97 In this, he was way ahead of his time — it would be another 150 years before English Bibles were chained in churches for all to read.
After spending some months at the Savoy, John of Gaunt was again at Leicester in August 1379, probably enjoying the pleasures of the chase. But he was back in London before 12 September for Blanche's obit at St Paul's, where an elaborate iron grille had been set up around her new tomb. John must have left immediately after the obit for Kettlethorpe, where, only two days later, he made a grant to Katherine.
This was probably a fleeting visit, for John was not among the witnesses to a deed dated that same day, 14 September, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, and issued at Kettlethorpe in the presence of the rector, Sir Robert de Northwood; in it, John de Dovdale of Chaworth granted to Katherine and her heirs 'certain tenements he had in the town and fields of Kettlethorpe and Laughterton'. Some years later, on 25 July 1387, John de Sereby, citizen of Lincoln (who had been at her son's baptism), granted to 'Lady Katherine de Swynford, Lady of Kettlethorpe ... all his rent which he had in Kettlethorpe, Laughterton and Fenton'. By using part of her substantial income to purchase small properties and plots of land in nearby villages, Katherine was prudently extending her holdings at Kettlethorpe and Coleby, and thus conserving and improving her son's inheritance.
John was at Kenilworth from 27 October to the second week in November, doubtless to see how his extensive renovations were progressing; they were evidently causing a lot of disruption, because when the Duke came to Kenilworth for Christmas, he and his retinue had to lodge at Kenilworth Priory, where a floor was laid for dancing in the great chamber — surely an unwelcome intrusion in the monastic regime. During his sojourn at Kenilworth in the autumn, John had ordered the payment of moneys to Geoffrey Chaucer; he also, on 6 November, commanded his receiver in Lincolnshire to pay 'our dear and well-beloved damoiselle' Philippa Chaucer's annuity. These orders may have been prompted by Katherine, who had perhaps accompanied her lover to Kenilworth. John was again at Kettlethorpe with Katherine from 14 to 16 November. By 17November, he had ridden south to Newark.
It is doubtful if Katherine spent the Christmas and New Year of 1379-80 with John at Kenilworth, for he would have presided over the festivities with the Duchess Constance for form's sake, but Philippa Chaucer was almost certainly of the company, for among John's New Year gifts was a silver hanap (a cup with a lid) costing 3s.5d (£609) for her. On 2 January, a payment of 20s. (£368) was made to a messenger of Matilda de Montagu, Abbess of Barking, who had come to receive a gift for the Abbess from the Duke; it is tempting to speculate that this messenger had brought a message from Margaret Swynford for her mother, and that a part of his handsome fee was intended for the young nun. Constance had moved to Hertford by 11 January 1380, while John, who had stayed at Kenilworth, later rode south to the Savoy, where he remained until March.
John was at Windsor on 1 April for the magnificent wedding of the King's half-sister, Maud Holland, to Waleran, Count of St Pol. On the following day, he arranged for Catalina, his eight-year-old daughter by Constance, to be brought up in the household of Joan Burghersh, Lady Mohun, the widow of John, Baron Mohun, who had been a retainer of the Black Prince and had died in 1375. The child was taken to Lady Mohun on 8 June, and remained in her care until at least 1383, when the Duke paid £50 (£20,360) for her expenses. It was quite usual for children of the aristocracy to be reared in a separate establishment, it being generally felt that parents might be too soft when it came to education and discipline.
Understandably, John did not show disrespect to his wife by placing her daughter with her two half-sisters under the governance of his mistress. However, he was now effectively living apart from Constance; on 12 May, at the Savoy, he ordered his receiver in Norfolk to pay 500 marks(£65,002) annually for her wardrobe and chamber expenses at Tutbury. In March 1381, he would augment this sum by a further 200 marks (£25,420), and then increase Constance's original settlement of 1,000 marks per annum (worth£125,221 in 1381) to £1,000 (£375,662). These increases may well reflect the increasing political importance of 'his dear wife the Queen', as his hopes for the Castilian throne grew more realistic; it may also have been in part the result of the pricking of the Duke's conscience over his adultery with Katherine Swynford.
Meanwhile, on 15 April, at Kenilworth, he had handed over £100 'to Dame Katherine Swynford, governess of our daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth of Lancaster, for the expenses of their wardrobe and chamber for the past Easter term'. As is becoming clear, references to Katherine in records dating from the late 1370s and early 1380s, although sparse, suggest that she was now a permanent fixture in the Duke's life and that of his daughters, and that he seized every opportunity to have her with him.
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John was based at the Savoy from May to July 1380. In May, the young Richard II, now thirteen, bound himself by treaty to marry Anne of Bohemia. With talk of a royal marriage in the air, John now turned his attention to finding suitable spouses for his older children. On 24 June 1380,Elizabeth of Lancaster, now a spirited young woman of seventeen, was wed to John Hastings, third Earl of Pembroke, at Kenilworth; from Elizabeth's point of view, this union was not entirely satisfactory, for her new husband was just eight years old. It is likely that Katherine Swynford, who had played an important role in Elizabeth's life, was involved in the preparations for her wedding, and was present. Afterwards, Elizabeth had her own household as Countess of Pembroke, and no longer needed Katherine's care.
Elizabeth had grown into a headstrong and extrovert girl, very different from her serious older sister. Her tomb effigy in Burford Church, Shropshire, shows a tall, slender woman with long fair hair and markedly Plantagenet features; evidently she favoured her father in looks. While she was intelligent and literate, dancing and singing were her great talents, and she so excelled at the former that she would one day be awarded a prize for being the best dancer at Richard II's court. Richard thought well of her, and in 1383pardoned a murderer at her instigation. But although Katherine instilled in Elizabeth her own love of learning and literature, and a sense of piety that would become more evident as she grew older, time was to prove that she had not been entirely successful in her role as governess, because the example she had set in her own conduct with Elizabeth's father proved the most unsuitable role model for an impressionable girl who was driven by her own youthful passions, which marriage to a child nine years her junior could not satisfy.
It seems odd that the Duke should marry off his second daughter before his first, Philippa, who at twenty was quite old to remain unwed, but John possibly hoped to use her as a diplomatic pawn in his bid for the Castilian throne. Marrying her to one of his allies could secure invaluable political support.
With Philippa, Katherine seems to have been more successful as a mentor. John's eldest daughter had grown into an amiable, literate and pious young woman who liked to read psalms and edifying devotional texts, yet she also had the skills that befitted her to grace any European court, and was an avid participator in courtly games of love. Before 1386, the poet Eustace Deschamps composed a ballade entided Des Deux Ordres de la Feuille at de la Fleur (Of the Two Orders of the Leaf and the Flower), in which he describes a popular May Day intellectual pastime in which courtiers declared themselves partisans of one or the other, the two symbols being regarded as either male or female. The finer details of this play have been lost in time, but Philippa, Deschamps tells us, was the chief patroness of the Order of the Flower. Unlike her sister, though, her life would never be tainted with scandal.
Philippa's tomb effigy depicts a lady with small, delicate features — did she take after her mother? - and a long, graceful neck. The sixteenth-century Portuguese genealogy in the British Library, in which Queen Constance's image (already discussed) appears, shows Philippa with reddish hair and a fuller face, although this may be a fanciful representation.
By 1380, John's hopes of winning Castile were improving. In 1379, Enrique of Trastamara had died, and been succeeded by his son, the melancholic and irresolute Juan I, another Francophile. In July 1380, John achieved notable diplomatic success when Ferdinand I, King of Portugal agreed to renew an alliance he had made with the Duke in 1372. With Ferdinand's friendship secured, John's ambitions appeared more realistic.
The Duke now sought for a bride for his heir, Henry of Derby, who was thirteen, the same age as the King. Following Edward Ill's policy of marrying his sons to English heiresses and thus extending their land-holdings, affinities and influence, John set his sights on Mary de Bohun, younger daughter and co-heiress of his late friend, Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, Essex and Northampton. Her mother, Joan FitzAlan, was the Duke's cousin, and much liked by him. Mary was thus very well connected, being related to the House of Lancaster through her mother, but she was also very young, only eleven or thereabouts. Eleanor, her elder sister and co-heiress, was married to Thomas of Woodstock, Earl of Buckingham, John's youngest brother, and Mary was living with them at Pleshy in Essex.
Not being content with his share of the Bohun inheritance, Thomas was determined to lay his hands on the rest, which comprised the earldoms of Hereford and Northampton, and he put relentless pressure on young Mary to give it all up and take the habit of a Poor Clare nun. But in July 1380,with the connivance of her mother and John of Gaunt, Mary's aunt, Elizabeth de Bohun, Countess of Arundel, kidnapped her from Pleshey while Thomas was away campaigning in France, and took her to Arundel Castle in Sussex. On28 July, on payment of 5,000 marks GC475.947). John of Gaunt secured from Richard II a grant of Mary's marriage to himself, thwarting his brother's ambitions, for the grant was in part payment of large sums owing to the Duke for military expenses. A furious Thomas, says Froissart, 'never after loved the Duke as he had hitherto done', although his wrath eventually abated and the two remained outwardly friendly."3 Soon afterwards — certainly before March 1381 -Mary was married with great ceremony and rejoicings to Henry of Derby at twelfth-century Rochford Hall in Essex, her mother's home. As Philippa and Elizabeth of Lancaster were present, it is probable that Katherine Swynford was too; there is later evidence to suggest that Mary de Bohun was fond of her, and Katherine would one day become a member of her household. After the wedding ceremony, Mary remained with her mother, with the Duke paying for her maintenance; because of her youth, he and the Countess had agreed that the consummation of the marriage should be delayed until Mary was fourteen.
On 2 December 1380, whilst attending Parliament at Northampton, John of Gaunt ordered the payment of £50 (£19,384) to Katherine for Philippa of Lancaster's wardrobe and chamber expenses, and commanded that in future she be assigned £100 (£38,768) per annum for the same in equal portions at Easter and Michaelmas. Given that Philippa was now twenty, it is likely that Katherine was expected to be more of a companion and chaperone to her, rather than a governess.
Kettlethorpe was not far from Northampton; with Katherine perhaps heavily pregnant at this time, John may well have ridden over to visit her. In her condition, it is hardly likely that she was present at Leicester at Christmas, when the King, the Princess Joan and the rest of the royal family were John's honoured guests. However, Philippa Chaucer was of the company, probably in attendance on the Duchess Constance, and at New Year, the Duke presented her with yet another silver-gilt hanap, worth £s.2s.id (£1,979)
On 20 January 1381, at Leicester Castle, John granted Katherine the wardship of the lands and heir of the late Elys de Thoresby, a member of his retinue who lived about twelve miles west of Kettlethorpe; in return, she was to perform all the services 'due and accustomed'. But the next day, a second grant of this wardship was issued, with the clause about the services omitted. Might we assume that Katherine herself had persuaded the Duke to leave it out, or that he amended it himself? The latter is more likely, for Katherine was probably not at Leicester at this time, and John probably had very good reasons for not wishing her to be burdened with feudal services. For this grant may well mark the birth of their third son and fourth child, Thomas Beaufort, who had perhaps been conceived at Kenilworth the previous April and been born probably at Kettlethorpe in January 1381. It has often been asserted that Thomas was born in 1377, since he was described as a 'young gentle-man' in February 13 97, but this probably refers purely to his rank and distinguishes him from his eldest brother, who was a knight. Like his Beaufort brothers, Thomas was given a favoured Lancastrian name, probably in honour of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, John's great-uncle, who had been executed in 1322 for opposing the inept Edward II, and was now popularly - but quite unjustifiably - reputed a saint. Thomas could also have been named for John's brother, Thomas of Woodstock, perhaps to mollify him for the loss of Mary de Bohun's inheritance.
Historians have long speculated that there were perhaps other Beaufort children who did not survive infancy. The Duchess Blanche had borne seven children in nine years of marriage, and Katherine's record in the same time-span, when she was deeply involved with John and still mostly in her twenties, is only four. Possibly she suffered one or more miscarriages, stillbirths or neonatal deaths in the four years that probably lay between the births of Joan and Thomas. Such occurrences were common at all levels of mediaeval society — four of Blanche's children had died young — and it was rare for all one's offspring to survive infancy in that age of high infant mortality.
In March 1381, John again increased Constance's chamber allowance, another gesture that might have been prompted by his conscience. Gifts given by him to Katherine around this time may mark a joyful reunion and his gratitude for the birth of their son: there were two tablets of silver and enamel costing seven marks (£877), a belt of silver costing 40s.od (£765), and a silver chaufour, or chafing pan, bought for 33s.4d (£626). The latter, which had three legs and a handle, and could be stood over a candle flame, was used to keep food warm at table. John had purchased, and perhaps commissioned, it from 'Herman, goldsmith of London', whom he often patronised. John of Gaunt's Register also lists other gifts 'to be delivered into my own hands and paid for the same day', which by their very nature must have been purchased for Katherine Swynford. These included 'a gold brooch in the form of a heart set with a diamond', again supplied by Herman the goldsmith, and 'a gold brooch set with a ruby and fashioned in the form of two hands'.
It was probably while he was at Leicester - and certainly before 31 March — that the Duke gave Blanche, his bastard daughter by Marie de St Hilaire, in marriage to Sir Thomas Morieux of Thorpe Morieux, Suffolk, who had been a knight in his retinue since 1372,and had previously served as Sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk. In 1381, Sir Thomas, who was renowned for his military exploits, was appointed Constable of the Tower of London, and in 1383 he would become Master of the Horse to Richard II. Froissart says he was popular in the ducal household because of his sardonic wit. John had done well by Blanche in marrying her to such a distinguished man, and in time he would make even more impressive provision for his Beaufort bastards.
After the nuptials, John rode south to London and the Savoy, where on 3 April he hosted a magnificent feast for Cardinal Pileo de Prata and the envoys from Bohemia, who were in England to conclude the King's marriage treaty.
This was the last time that the Savoy would serve as a setting for a state occasion, for trouble was brewing in the political cauldron, which would soon boil over and engulf the lives of John and Katherine. Back in 1379, in order to meet the heavy costs of the war with France, the government, under the Duke's auspices, had imposed a poll tax, a tax on the head of every subject. At first, payment was assessed on a graduated scale, according to the means of the taxpayer — and as John of Gaunt was richer by far than anybody else, he had to have a category all of his own. But the Commons disliked this system, and in the winter of 1380-1, a new poll tax was levied, this time at a flat rate of one shilling (£19) Per head, which was unjust and unfair, for while the rich could easily afford it, many of the poor faced ruin. Already there was widespread discontent at the dismal way the war was going. The people wanted victories, but instead they were being required to shoulder the burden of reverse after reverse. There was much anger against the government, most of it directed at John of Gaunt, who was held responsible for England's poor prowess in the war and the crippling poll tax. Tax collectors were attacked and even beheaded, there was widespread evasion and the protests became ever more vociferous. Yet on 13 March 1381, to the outrage of many, the council ruled that the poll tax must be enforced.
John of Gaunt had other preoccupations. A truce with the Scots was about to expire, and on 1 May he received a new commission to treat with them. Three days later, in the midst of his preparations for his journey north, he sent Godfrey, his barber, to Katherine with a receipt for £50 (£18,783)for some pearls he had sold to her and his daughter Phllippa, which had been delivered to them by William Oke, the clerk of his great Wardrobe. He also purchased some devotional books, and on 12 May, paid the handsome sum of £5i.8s.2d (£19,312) for various gifts and expenses attendant upon the recent admission of 'Elizabeth Chaucy' to the prestigious Barking Abbey. This nun was probably the 'Elizabeth Chausier' who had entered St Helen's Priory in 1377, and thus almost certainly the daughter of Geoffrey and Philippa Chaucer; there was no uniformity in spelling in the fourteenth century, and the involvement of the Duke further supports this identification. John's generous gesture — he had probably used his influence with the King to secure the necessary royal nomination, for without it, the daughter of a mere civil servant would never have gained entry to the aristocratic community at Barking — was perhaps made at the instigation of Katherine Swynford or Philippa Chaucer, or both, so that Elizabeth could join her cousin Margaret
Swynford. The large sum involved suggests that the Duke paid Elizabeth's dowry too, which was perhaps included with the gifts.
On 12 May, John left the Savoy; he could have had no idea that he would never see his beautiful palace again. Katherine probably rode northwards with him via Hertford, Bedford and Northampton, and when she said farewell to him, either at Northampton or possibly at Leicester around 20May, she cannot have suspected that this was to be the end of nine illicit but happy years together, years during which she must have come to believe that she was an accepted and permanent part of his life, the love of his heart and the sole focus of his desire.