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 trespa.s.s upon them. Lancaster was one of only three palatinates in England,41 and had first been elevated to that status in 1351 for Duke Henry. The grant underlined John's pre-eminence among the n.o.bility of England. On 5 and 6 March, royal commands were issued on the basis of information supplied by him,42 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 pa.s.sed.

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.43 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 a.s.sume his father's t.i.tle of Earl of Derby, was in the Prince's retinue.45 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.46 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed the rings from its fingers and fled.47 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 pet.i.tion 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.48 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 n.o.bleman 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 III'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.49 'To witness and hear the grief of the people, their sobs and lamentations on that day, would have rent anyone's heart.'50 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.51 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; superst.i.tious folk, seeing one of his slippers fall off, took it for a bad omen.52 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.53 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.54 John'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 n.o.bles 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.55 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.56 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.57 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.58 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 G.o.d, she was perhaps following a Roet 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 III's 1366 grant of an annuity to Philippa Chaucer.60 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,61 obtained leave of the King to retire to Kenilworth, and then spent the summer and early autumn of 1377 hunting in Leicestershire and a.s.sessing the defences of his castles.62 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.63 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 'princ.i.p.al aid, comforter and councillor'.64 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 inst.i.tuted 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.65 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.66 The Duke was in Scotland for talks with the Scots in January 1378, but had returned to the Savoy by 7 February.67 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 'G.o.d's saints', and 'was an invincible guardian in all their needs, for otherwise they would have fallen into the pit of destruction'.68 When the invasion fleet sailed on 7 April 1378, the Duke was not with it. In his 'Scandalous Chronicle', Walsingham a.s.serts that there was growing condemnation 'for his wicked and disgraceful behaviour because he himself put aside respect for G.o.d'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 G.o.d, [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 princ.i.p.al towns of the country'. By this, Walsingham meant 'the county', and he was probably referring to Leicestershire, where the Duke was staying in March 1378.69 By so brazenly flaunting his mistress, John 'made himself abominable in the eyes of G.o.d'.

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.70 Monkish chroniclers invariably wrote their accounts with a view to ill.u.s.trating 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 wh.o.r.e', that 'the worst curses and infamous invectives started circulating against [the Duke]'. However, it may not have been the s.e.xual relationship between the lovers that caused the greatest offence, for such affairs were common among kings and n.o.bles, but the way he was unabashedly flaunting it publicly, to the injury of his virtuous wife, and even more pertinently to the cla.s.s-conscious and xenophobic English the fact that Katherine was of comparatively lowly birth, and a foreigner. Above all, Katherine was tainted simply through being a.s.sociated with the most hated man in the kingdom.

Walsingham's pa.s.sage quoted above is the only description that survives of John and Katherine together;71 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',72 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 greatly 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.73 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 and 1379, he paid 3.6s.8d (1,165) for a horse and 2.0s.6d (708) for an iron pan (probably a large cauldron), both of which were presented to Katherine in grat.i.tude 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'.75 (The Mayor seems to have had the better part of the bargain.) In a.s.sessing 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;76 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 s.e.xual 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 prost.i.tutes to the beds of these wives, who, grief-stricken as they were, did not dare to protest.' This a.s.sertion 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 a.s.sa.s.sination, 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,77 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 13767 had pa.s.sed, 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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,78 and in May, he was at the Savoy, busy commandeering the extra ships that were so urgently needed;79 on the 20th, he levied an aid for the knighting of his heir, Henry of Derby,80 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.81 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.82 'And the commons of England began to murmur against the n.o.blemen, saying how they had done all that season but little good.'83 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.84 It seemed that the superst.i.tious predictions of divine retribution were being fulfilled, and that John's failure to take St Malo was G.o.d'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 1378.85 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;86 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'.87 Rape in the fourteenth century was not necessarily a s.e.xual crime: although it could refer to s.e.xual a.s.sault 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.88 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 chamberlain and two of his household knights, as well as the Collector of Customs, Chaucer's own superior.89 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.90 She remained a member of Constance's household, on very good terms with the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess.91 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 d.u.c.h.ess's chamber.

Philippa and Katherine now had much in common: both were essentially femmes soles, both had dedicated a daughter to G.o.d, 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 d.u.c.h.ess, 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 circ.u.mstances. 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.92 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 att.i.tude 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 d.u.c.h.ess, 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 at Kettlethorpe, which by now must have begun to look very imposing indeed; it was perhaps in this period that the great stone gateway was built.95 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 a.s.sembled 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'.96 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 G.o.d'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 1379,98 probably enjoying the pleasures of the chase. But he was back in London before 12 September for Blanche's obit at St Paul's,99 where an elaborate iron grille had been set up around her new tomb.100 John must have left immediately after the obit for Kettlethorpe, where, only two days later, he made a grant to Katherine.101 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'.102 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 chamber103 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.104 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.105 By 17 November, he had ridden south to Newark.106 It is doubtful if Katherine spent the Christmas and New Year of 137980 with John at Kenilworth,107 for he would have presided over the festivities with the d.u.c.h.ess 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 31s.5d (609) for her.108 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.109 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.110 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.111 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.112 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).113 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 p.r.i.c.king 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'.114 As is becoming clear, references to Katherine in records dating from the late 1370s and early 1380s, although spa.r.s.e, 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.

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.115 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;116 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 1383 pardoned a murderer at her instigation.117 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,118 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 pa.s.sions, 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 p.a.w.n 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 partic.i.p.ator in courtly games of love. Before 1386, the poet Eustace Deschamps composed a ballade ent.i.tled 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.119 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.120 The Duke now sought for a bride for his heir, Henry of Derby, who was thirteen, the same age as the King. Following Edward III's policy of marrying his sons to English heiresses and thus extending their landholdings, 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, Ess.e.x 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 Ess.e.x.121 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 Pleshy while Thomas was away campaigning in France, and took her to Arundel Castle in Suss.e.x. On 28 July, on payment of 5,000 marks (475,947), 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.122 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.123 Soon afterwards certainly before March 1381 Mary was married with great ceremony and rejoicings to Henry of Derby at twelfth-century Rochford Hall in Ess.e.x, her mother's home.124 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,125 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 a.s.signed 100 (38,768) per annum for the same in equal portions at Easter and Michaelmas.126 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.127 However, Philippa Chaucer was of the company, probably in attendance on the d.u.c.h.ess Constance, and at New Year, the Duke presented her with yet another silver-gilt hanap, worth 5.2s.1d (1,979).128 On 20 January 1381, at Leicester Castle, John granted Katherine the wardship of the lands and heir of the late Elys de Th.o.r.esby, 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.129 Might we a.s.sume 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 a.s.serted that Thomas was born in 1377, since he was described as a 'young gentleman' in February 1397,130 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 grat.i.tude for the birth of their son: there were two tablets of silver and enamel costing seven marks (877), a belt of silver costing 40s.9d (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.131 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'.132 It was probably while he was at Leicester and certainly before 31 March that the Duke gave Blanche, his b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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.133 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.134 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

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.135 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 a.s.sessed 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 13801, 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.136 Three days later, in the midst of his preparations for his journey north, he sent G.o.dfrey, his barber, to Katherine with a receipt for 50 (18,783) for some pearls he had sold to her and his daughter Philippa, which had been delivered to them by William Oke, the clerk of his great Wardrobe.137 He also purchased some devotional books, and on 12 May, paid the handsome sum of 51.8s.2d (19,312) for various gifts and expenses attendant upon the recent admission of 'Elizabeth Chaucy' to the prestigious Barking Abbey.138 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 20 May, 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.

7.

'Turning Away the Wrath of G.o.d'

At the beginning of June 1381, as John of Gaunt lay at Knaresborough, an army of yeomen and peasants was ama.s.sing in Kent and Ess.e.x, bent on the overthrow of a government that had imposed the cruelly oppressive poll tax and forced restrictive wage and price controls on labouring men whose services were in high demand after the depredations of the Black Death. The rebels had chosen for their leader their 'idol', it was said a man called Wat Tyler, and for their spokesmen one Jack Straw and an excommunicate priest, John Ball, who was going about the country preaching inflammatory and subversive sermons calling for the abolition of serfdom1 and posing the question: When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?

On 10 June, the insurgents occupied Canterbury, then began their march on London, new recruits swelling their forces along the way, until they were at least fifty thousand strong.2 It was as well that the chief object of their venom, the Duke of Lancaster, was by then nearing Berwick, because it was he, above all, whom they were determined to destroy for was he not the most powerful man in the realm, and therefore the man responsible for all the woes that had befallen it? Therefore, as soon as they reached the eastern approaches of the City of London, and set up their camp at Blackheath on 12 June, the rebel leaders sent a pet.i.tion to Richard II demanding the heads of men they deemed traitors. John of Gaunt's name was at the top of the list.

We do not know where Katherine was at this time. If she had indeed travelled north with John, parted from him at Leicester around 20 May and then ridden home to Kettlethorpe, she would surely have heard by now of the march of the people, because there were a.s.sociated risings in other parts of the country, including East Anglia. Katherine was no fool: she realised that her notorious relationship with the Duke made her especially vulnerable, and that her very life might be in danger a fear that was to be proved justified in the coming days. So, the author of the Anonimalle Chronicle tells us, she 'went into hiding where no one knew where to find her for a long time', no doubt taking her children with her; given that she had with her a new baby, she probably felt especially vulnerable.3 Philippa of Lancaster may have gone with them, for there is no record of Philippa's wherabouts during the coming crisis, and Katherine was responsible for her.4 It is unlikely that Katherine went to Kettlethorpe or Lincoln, for she was too well-known in those places and could easily be found. Nor would it have been wise to go to any of the Duke's properties in the threatened areas, and she was almost certainly not at the Savoy. It is possible, but not probable, that she sought refuge at Wesenham Place, a house in King's Lynn that the Duke gave her at some unspecified date,5 for John Spanye, a cobbler of King's Lynn, was ranting round the area, inciting the people to slaughter the unpopular Flemish weavers who had for decades been settled in East Anglia.6 Of course, Katherine was a Hainaulter, not a Fleming, but an ignorant mob would not have made such a fine distinction; to them, she was a foreigner, the mistress of the most detested man in the land, and thus an object of hatred. It is feasible, of course, that Katherine sought refuge in a convent, the traditional place of safety for women, but as will be seen there is some reason to believe that she hid herself away in Pontefract Castle, that great Lancastrian stronghold in Yorkshire, and sent word to the Duke of her whereabouts.

Meanwhile, as the 'savage hordes approached the City like waves of sea',7 the young King's councillors had panicked and taken refuge with him in the Tower. When, on Thursday 13 June, Richard II failed to respond to their demands, the rebels lost patience and 'with cruel eagerness for the slaughter' surged across London Bridge into the City, where, reinforced by hundreds of sympathetic Londoners and hot-headed apprentices, they embarked on a frenzy of destruction and bloodletting. 'Burn! Kill!' was their chilling cry.8 They opened the prisons, torched houses and brothels, and broke into Lambeth Palace, which they fired, and the Temple, where they destroyed valuable doc.u.ments. Flooding into the Strand in the afternoon, they saw before them the great edifice of the Savoy, white and beautiful against the summer sky. In that moment, the wondrous palace was doomed, for to the insurgents it represented all that was hateful to them: the power of the despised Duke of Lancaster, the authority of feudal lordship, and the wealth of the landed cla.s.ses.

Into the Savoy surged the mob, thirty thousand strong, their righteous purpose to destroy rather than loot. 'They made proclamation that none, on pain to lose his head, should convert to his own use anything that there was, but that they should break such as was found.' They killed the guards at the gates, then poured into the cellars, where they smashed the great casks of fine wines, and watched in glee as the gold and ruby liquid spilled over the flagstones. 'We are not thieves and robbers, we are true commons, zealots for truth and justice!' the people cried. Then they raced upstairs to the Duke's treasury, whence they dragged a wealth of gold and silver plate. This they battered with axes, before hauling the lot out to the terrace and hurling it into the Thames. The jewels and precious stones they ground in mortars or underfoot, and their residue also went into the river.

Some were raiding the ducal wardrobe, pulling out elegant garments of cloth of gold, and armour; an expensive quilted jack (a protective garment worn under a breastplate) belonging to John of Gaunt was set up as a target for arrows, in the absence of its owner, and then hacked to pieces. 'We will have no king named John!' trumpeted 'the yokel band'. Others were ripping tapestries, cushions, napery, rich silk hangings and illuminated ma.n.u.scripts, or chopping up fine furniture. All were carried to the great hall and heaped in a pile, which was then set alight. Soon the blaze had taken hold, and the palace was engulfed in flames. The conflagration was complete when three barrels of gunpowder stored in the cellars and thought by the rebels to contain gold and silver were hurled into the fire and exploded. One fool was cast alive into the inferno by his furious companions 'because he minded to have reserved one piece of plate for himself', and in the cellars below, thirty-two of his fellows, drunk and carousing on the Duke's wine, were trapped when the roof caved in, and slowly perished: their 'cries and lamentations' could be heard by curious citizens 'for seven days afterwards'.9 In the end, all that was left of the great Savoy was a pile of charred masonry, lead and ashes: all had been utterly destroyed.10 Meanwhile, north of London, a yeoman band was ransacking Hertford Castle; elsewhere in the Lancastrian domains there were attacks on John of Gaunt's servants and property,11 and in Ess.e.x, one of his unfortunate squires was beheaded. At Leicester, the terrified keeper of the wardrobe loaded the Duke's clothes and treasures onto five carts and demanded that the Abbot of Leicester take them into safekeeping, but the Abbot, also 'in great fear', flatly refused, so the keeper was obliged to store his h.o.a.rd in the churchyard of St Mary's Church in the Newarke.12 Men who wore Lancastrian livery badges prudently tore them off and made themselves scarce. There can be no doubt that had the Duke himself fallen into the hands of the insurgents, he would have met with a violent end.

In the midst of the chaos, and with the sky red with the glow from the burning Savoy, the fourteen-year-old King's courage shone clear. He would meet with the rebels, he said, and parley with them. On 14 June, he rode forth to Mile End and fearlessly faced Wat Tyler, who pet.i.tioned the King for the abolition of serfdom and the right to deal with traitors there was no mistaking whom he meant. Richard agreed to all his demands, but as this meeting was taking place, the mob was still running riot in London. This time, their target was the Flemish merchant community, resented as aliens, and for the commercial privileges they enjoyed and the wealth they had ama.s.sed. The rebels brutally dragged thirty-five of these unfortunate wretches out of St Martin's Church in Vintry and systematically beheaded them in the street;13 over a hundred more were hunted down and lynched, and that, surely, would have been the fate of Katherine Swynford, had the malcontents found her in London; she also was a foreigner hailing from the Low Countries, and the rebels had far more cause to butcher her: if the head of John of Gaunt was among the foremost of their demands, that of his mistress would have been forfeit too.

Chaucer clearly perceived the danger that threatened his wife and her sister.14 Not only were they aliens, but they both were also closely connected with the Duke. Chaucer does not make many political references in his poems, but in 'The Nun's Priest's Tale', written perhaps a decade later, he reveals how personally affected he was by the Peasants' Revolt: So hideous was the noise, a benedicite [bless us]!

Certes he, Jack Straw, and all his meinie [retinue], Ne made never shouts half so shrill When that they would any Fleming kill.

It sounds as if Chaucer had heard those chilling yells himself.

The mob also breached the Tower's defences and ransacked the armoury. Some burst into the Princess Joan's chamber, where as they tore her bed-hangings apart one man made so bold as to s.n.a.t.c.h a kiss from her. The shock (whether of the attack or the kiss is uncertain) was so great that she fainted. Fourteen-year-old Henry of Derby, John of Gaunt's heir, was smuggled out of the Tower in the nick of time,15 but old Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was not so lucky: he was seized whilst at prayer in St John's Chapel in the White Tower, dragged outside to Tower Hill and there horrifically decapitated, it needing eight blows to sever his head. Sir Robert Hales, the Lord Treasurer, and John of Gaunt's physician, Brother William Appleton, suffered a similar fate.16 The next day, 15 June, Richard II again met with the rebels, this time at Smithfield, and again 'saving only the legality of his crown' agreed to all their demands, including one for a new version of Magna Carta. But while he was speaking with Wat Tyler, Sir William Walworth, the hard-line Lord Mayor of London, appalled at the familiarity with which the peasant leader was treating the King calling him 'brother' and staying in the saddle drinking ale when he should have been kneeling tried to arrest Tyler. Tyler retaliated by drawing his dagger, whereupon Walworth fatally stabbed him. Seeing their leader cut down, Tyler's followers were ready to erupt in outrage, but the young King with great presence of mind stayed them, raising his hand and declaring, 'I will be your leader! You shall have no captain but me!' Promising them all parchments confirming that they would be made free men, he persuaded the rebels to disperse peacefully, which they did, believing that all they had asked for had been granted.

How wrong they were. Walworth immediately rode off to raise an army. The Council, scared out of its wits at the demonstrations that had just taken place, was determined to crush any moves to change the old