The King’s Sister (45 page)

Could I forgive myself?

Perhaps, at last, these days blessed by the gift of John’s absolution had proved to me that I could.

For the briefest of moments other figures were there to accompany me as I made my arrangements for the journey, ghosts from the past keeping pace.

Jonty, as I had known him in his youthful enthusiasms, would have raced around, into everything, his enjoyment a noisy entity in this quiet place. He was always a boy in my memories. He always would be.

Richard, even before he wore the crown, would have had no interest at all, abandoning such mundane tasks to those in his employ, while he sought out someone to impress and admire. As King of England he would have demanded an entourage worthy of his greatness.

Whereas John, my beloved John, would have prowled like some caged beast in the royal menagerie, ever-restless, exchanging ribald comments with his men, laughing at shared memories, giving me no rest until I abandoned whatever took my time, to join him in some expedition or engagement. He would have lured me, flattered me, employing all the charm he possessed until I remembered why I had missed him so desperately during his absence.

For a moment, just a shadow caught by a blink of an eye, John was there at my side. It was always John who was with me as I rose at the beginning of each day. The one true centre of my life, the bane of my life, who had shattered the bond between us because of loyalty to his brother, as I became estranged from him through loyalty to mine. How complex were constancy and fidelity when they would seem to be the most unambiguous truths in the world, how full of pain and regrets. John and I would have loved and argued and lived until old age, and I would not have been standing here, adrift, at Dartington, if conflicting honour had not dragged us down.

But that was in the past. Here in my mind were new
possibilities, new ventures. Deliberately, heart-wrenchingly, I drove John’s ghost away.

The capacity to love does not die when the lover dies.

I would never love John less, but maybe it was possible to find affection again. My passion for John would not be diminished if I allowed myself to take this step into the future.

So many ends to be taken up and mended, if my Plantagenet pride would allow it. Like my ageing tapestry fraying from careless use, it would need careful stitching over a lifetime. Or, I decided, it was more like a palimpsest, where the manuscript was scraped clean, the old words removed, new ones rewritten. Here was the future for my re-writing, forming in my head with bold strokes, and I knew it was what Princess Joan would have done, with utmost conviction.

Go to Henry. Make your peace with him. Petition again in moderate words for lands and titles for your sons. Allow Henry to arrange good marriages for your daughters. He will listen to you, he must listen. And then go to Pleshey to acknowledge the burial of John Holland and let him rest in peace, so that you, too, can find peace.

And there was more, crowding into my thoughts, emerging from my own intuition.

I would be icily tolerant of Thomas FitzAlan, as a political necessity. I would try to be decorous in the company of the Countess of Hereford. I would grit my teeth and speak with my cousin Edward as if the hatred in my belly did not exist. I would do that, all of that. The grief and guilt that had wearied me, numbed me, had lost their hold and I felt strong
and sure at last. Henry needed to hold on to this kingdom and I would not hinder him.

Yes, I would do all of those things, through duty and sisterly affection, but what of me and my life? And at last I smiled a little for there would be a man at Henry’s side. John Cornewall, a bold knight with perfect manners, a knight with only twenty-five years to his name, younger even than Jonty, whom I had rejected as a child when I was full grown at seventeen. How strange the circles of life. But the years had moved on and the difference in life span between us was not so great. Here was no untried boy: here was a man metalled in battle, a man with strong views and ambitions to match.

I might be a path to power and wealth for this man of my brother’s choosing, but I thought it would not be an unsatisfactory bargain between us. Burdens were to be borne as lightly as possible. Love? I did not think so, but respect and graciousness were not to be disparaged in a coming together of man and wife.

Would he forgive me the ill-manners of our parting? I thought that he would. He might even ask me to dance again. And, with an unexpected surge of life within me, of new hope, I thought that I might accept.

All my thanks to my agent, Jane Judd, who, in the beginning, was willing to take on my fixation with medieval women. Her continuing support and enthusiasm for me and the voiceless women of the English Middle Ages are beyond praise.

Also my profound thanks to Sally Williamson at MIRA, who burrows under the skin of my characters with as much tenacity as I do. Her insight is invaluable. And to all the staff at MIRA whose professional commitment has enabled Elizabeth of Lancaster to live again.

And my thanks to Helen Bowden and all at Orphans Press. Their expertise in dealing with website matters, genealogy and maps is exceptional. I could not manage without them.

My compulsion to write about Elizabeth of Lancaster, younger daughter of John of Gaunt and Blanche of Lancaster, was born out of my own initial ignorance about her, followed by a visit to the Church of St Mary, a tiny rural church in Burford, Shropshire, close to where I live.

It all began when I was invited by a local historical society to give a talk on her life, together with a guided tour to her tomb. Being an ‘incomer’ to the area, I was forced to admit that I knew nothing about her other than her parentage and that Katherine Swynford had been employed as her governess. A personal visit to her tomb was essential.

And there she was, the heroine of my new novel. I think I knew it as soon as I saw her effigy, clad regally in red with a purple cloak trimmed with ermine. Her hair is fair, her face oval and her nose long. Plantagenet features, I suppose. She wears a ducal coronet and her hands are raised in prayer, an angel supporting her pillow and a little dog holding the edge of her cloak in its mouth. She is quite lovely.

But to write about her as a heroine I needed to discover more. And how little there was, either in contemporary sources or modern historians. But one comment, written in 1994, intrigued me when it damned her with the only opinion given about her as ‘frankly wanton and highly sexed.’

Was there nothing more to say about her than this? And was this simply based on the fact that she had three husbands during her lifetime of fifty years? And that John Holland, her second husband, ‘was struck down passionately, so that day and night he sought her out’ while she was still not free to wed him? I expect that it had a bearing on the judgement, but surely there must be more to say about this daughter of Lancaster.

And then I came to appreciate the political setting in which Elizabeth lived in 1399 and 1400, the years of the overthrow of King Richard II by Henry Bolingbroke, who became Henry IV, followed by the Rising of the Earls in which John Holland, the
Duke of Exeter, half-brother to King Richard, was implicated. Elizabeth was in the very centre of this maelstrom. First cousin to Richard, sister to Henry, wife of John Holland, how difficult were family loyalties for her within that setting? What would be her role in the dynamics of this vital Plantagenet family?

What a marvellously emotional story this would make, mapping the pressures of blood and loyalty and duty when a family was torn apart by ambition and poor government.

This was to be the story of Elizabeth of Lancaster, the king’s sister.

Elizabeth
married Sir John Cornewall in the late summer of 1400. A large portion of the Holland properties, including Dartington Hall, was restored to her. In 1404 a gratified Henry restored to Elizabeth her dower.

She lived until 1425, dying at Ampthill Castle, built by John Cornewall, at the age of fifty-one years. She made no more dramatic appearances on the historical stage. She was buried in St Mary’s Church in Burford, Shropshire, one of John Cornewall’s family properties, by her own choice, and where her tomb can still be visited today.

Henry
remained King of England until his death in the Jerusalem Chamber at Westminster Abbey in March 1413. He was succeeded by his son, who became Henry V. Henry eventually remarried to Joan of Navarre in 1403. It was a happy marriage, but they had no children together.

Sir John Cornewall
, created Baron Fanhope by Henry IV, died on 11th December 1443 at Ampthill Castle in Bedfordshire. He was buried at Blackfriars Preachers, Ludgate, in London. Sir John Cornewall and Elizabeth had two children together:

John Cornewall
, born around 1403, died in December 1421. He was only seventeen when he was killed at the Siege of Meaux, standing next to his father, who tragically witnessed his son’s head being blown off by a gun-stone.

Constance
married John FitzAlan, 14th Earl of Arundel and died in 1427 without children.

Sir John fathered two illegitimate sons, John and Thomas, whom he recognised in his will.

As for the surviving children of Elizabeth and John Holland:

Richard
died at the age of eleven in late 1400.

Constance, Elizabeth and Alice
all made advantageous marriages and had children.

John
was eventually restored to his inheritance and became Duke of Exeter.

Edward
made his name in soldiering.

Tempted to travel? Feel an urge to follow in the footsteps of Elizabeth of Lancaster, even if it’s only through the internet or travel guides, from the comfort of your armchair? Here are some of the best locations associated with them.

Kenilworth Castle

The jewel in the crown for the Lancaster family. We think of Kenilworth in connection with Elizabeth I and Robert Dudley, when much building was undertaken, but much of the pre-Tudor construction was planned by Elizabeth’s father, Duke John of Lancaster. This is where Elizabeth would have spent much of her young life. Kenilworth was the scene of her first marriage to John Hasting, Earl of Pembroke. Visit the magnificent Great Hall and dream …

www.english-heritage.org.uk

Windsor Castle

Elizabeth spent many days at the royal courts of her cousin Richard II and her brother Henry IV. Although the Court travelled frequently, Windsor was a favourite place for both kings, so Elizabeth would have been well acquainted with Windsor. The initial major reconstruction of the castle was done by her grandfather Edward III.

www.royal.gov.uk/TheRoyalResidences

Tower of London

This was very much a royal residence and Elizabeth would have spent time here.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_London

Church of St Mary, Burford, Shropshire

Discover Elizabeth’s final resting place in her magnificent painted tomb in this tiny church near Tenbury Wells. It is the only physical evidence we have of her and is not to be missed.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mary’s_Church,_Burford

Pleshey Castle, Essex

The scene of John Holland’s execution in 1400 still exists, but is much ruined, with banks and ditches and very little stonework. Much of it is not open to the public.

www.pastscape.org

Unfortunately there is so little to see connected with Elizabeth’s life. Many of the castles and houses associated with her have been destroyed or replaced by eighteenth- and nineteenth-century building.

The Savoy Palace

Utterly destroyed in the Peasants Revolt. But the Savoy Hotel is built on the site and, viewed from the Thames, it gives a superb idea of the extent and dominance of this incredible building that was completely laid waste. One of the finest palaces in Europe, with a wealth of valuable items collected by the Duke of Lancaster, it remains a matter of great regret that it is lost to us along with all its treasures.

Dartington Hall

John Holland’s new home was derelict by the 1920s, when it was rebuilt as the present Dartington Hall.

Burford Manor

The present Burford manor was erected in the reign of George II. Some remains of an earlier manor, presumably that of Sir John Cornewall, have been discovered in the gardens and beneath the present manor after an archaeological investigation.

Pultney House

No trace remains.

The Church of Holy Trinity, Pleshey

The church was rebuilt in the eighteenth century and contains no trace of the burial there of John Holland.

Ampthill Castle

More famous now for its associations with Henry VIII and particularly Katherine of Aragon, who was living there when news reached her of her divorce, Ampthill Castle in Bedfordshire no longer exists. Katherine’s Cross marks the place where it once stood.

www.ampthillhistory.co.uk