A short story about Lady Margaret Beaufort and Henry VI

Posted on January 10, 2021January 10, 2021 By Gareth - Editor

Roses, thorns and friendships

1452
I knew I had to stop. Those tingling sensations of vanity were not becoming of a Christian girl. But by Saint George, they felt good.

I looked down again at my flowing scarlet gown. With my open sleeves and gold trimmings I felt as radiant as the sun. I had always known I was from a very great dynasty. For the first time, I felt as majestic as the mythical Yale in our family crest.

“Stop it!” I told myself quietly. Like Our Lady, good little girls were to be pious and penitent. But I didn’t want to “stop it”, whatever I told myself. Pride might be a sin, but it was better than that other feeling. That dark, creeping feeling which I couldn’t put into words. It had grown like a weed since we first stepped foot in Westminster, causing lumps to form in my throat and a knot to twist in my belly. If vanity were the only anecdote to that feeling, perhaps the Virgin might understand.

“Now remember Margaret,” mother said, “I will not be with you when you meet the King.” As she spoke she gently lifted my hair, and sprinkled it neatly around my shoulders. Mother revelled in setting my hair. She could never display her own. Wearing your hair loose is the preserve of Queens and virgins.

“Your uncle Somerset will present you. When he does, you will sink into a deep curtsey. The king will come before you and lift you up. Stand there as he talks to you and answer all his questions with the utmost reverence.”

For a minute, mother looked concerned.

“Actually Margaret, there’s a chance the king won’t lift you out of your curtsey. If he doesn’t, just stay there for as long as you can and then gently fall to your knees. In this dress, no one will notice.”

I looked up at mother. No doubt this gentle woman could see the nerves etched on my face.

“Look, you don’t need to worry. The customs at court are not that different to what we do at home when we have important visitors. I like to think you are a well brought up little girl.” She held my face in her hands and gave me a warm, loving smile. “I am confident you will do us proud.”

I trusted mother with my life. And she was right; though I was not quite 10 years old, the customs of court were within my grasp. I was good with grownups and I had already met dukes, bishops, mayors and all kinds of important men. That wasn’t what I was worried about. I wasn’t worried at all.

I was petrified.

No one knew for sure why the King wanted to see me. I was pledged in marriage to his half-brother, Edmund Tudor, a man I had never met. For mother, this was explanation enough. “He’s just curious to set eyes on his new sister-in-law” she had said, almost a little too cheerily. But I knew otherwise.

The King was angry with me.

Before my betrothal to Edmund, I was troth-plight to a boy named John de La Pole. We had met only once but I was under the power of his father, the Duke of Suffolk, who had been my guardian since I was a baby. Father had died when I was an infant and the King, his cousin, had entrusted my welfare to Suffolk. But the Duke was an evil man.

According to Parliament, Suffolk had done something terrible. Criminal! Evil! Mother had no idea that I knew. She probably thought I didn’t even know what ‘Parliament’ was but I’d heard the servants talking. Their words had lingered in my memory ever since.

“Take this linen up to Lady Margaret’s chamber.”

I knew I wasn’t allowed in the laundry room. Or the kitchens. Or the cellar. But I loved seeing how the servants worked, hearing their earthy language and I was small enough to hide in every nook and cranny of our home, Bletsoe Castle. Mother had always said my destiny was be a great lady, running my own house one day. Surely I needed to see how one actually worked?

“Don’t you mean, Queen Margaret,” said the maid who was now in possession of my linen sheets. She fell into a mock curtsey with a girly sneer. Katherine, the older woman who had instructed her, scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the maid defended. “I’m only saying what they’re saying in Parliament. That Duke of Suffolk was going to kill the king and say Lady Margaret was the next in line. She would be Queen. And his son, the King.”

Blessed saints! The Queen. What did she mean, I was next in line? Why would my guardian want to kill the king?

“Now you listen to me,” Katherine was quiet, but her tone as fierce as a beast. “For as long as you want to work in this castle, you mind your tongue. If I catch you talking about anyone in the family like that again, I’ll have a good mind to cut it off for safe keeping.”

The maid blustered a bit. She looked on the verge of mounting a defence.

“I’m serious!” The older lady continued. “You want the Lady Margaret arrested? Beheaded for treason? You go around repeating stories and the next thing we know, people will think they started at this castle and they’ll see truth where there’s none. Is that what you want? Our precious little girl on the receiving end of the King’s anger. The little Lady Somerset dead? And it all on your conscience!”

The younger maid was sobbing. But emotion would grant her no reprieve.

“Linen! Chamber! Now!”

I scurried away as soon as the coast was clear and told no one what I’d heard. But when mother told me that the King had summoned us to court, I knew what it meant. It was time for me to get my comeuppance.

“Your grace,” my uncle said with a bow after I entered the King’s chamber. Mother was outside. Apart from my uncle and two ushers, I was alone with the king. I had imagined the king’s court to be swarming like a beehive. There were countless guards on the outside of the chamber. I have a wild imagination, Mother often upbraids me for it, but I couldn’t let go of the ridiculous notion that the King was like a prisoner.

“May I present my niece, Lady Margaret of Somerset.”

I moved as mother had instructed. I took a few steps so I was lined up to the King’s throne and dropped into a deep curtsey.

For a minute or two nothing happened. With my small legs, I couldn’t hold my curtsey much longer. As mother suggested, I fell to a kneel. My poor, rich garment was unblemished no more.

I looked up. Was I meant to look up? I had to see what was going on. Now that I was closer I could see the king clearer. He looked dazed, in some kind of stupor. I had imagined he would wear a crown but on his head was a velvet cap.

“My Lady Margaret of Somerset,” my uncle repeated. He raised his voice and lurched slightly in the king’s direction.

The king looked up slowly. He glanced my way, thought for a minute and smiled. There was a gentleness to his face and kindness in his eyes. Steadily he lifted himself from the throne. He came softly toward me as if he were floating. And then –

Blessed mother! He kneeled. The king kneeled and was crouched down just in front of me. His eyes were wide like a puppy. Now that they were closer, I could see the features on his long oval face. I knew he was a full-grown man, but his face was like a little boy’s.

“Lady Somerset,” he said as he took my hand. His eyes were calm and his touch was gentle. I was used to men like my uncle pulling me and pushing me but the king made me feel like he had all the time in the world.

“We are to be friends. You do want to be my friend don’t you?”

“Oh yes. Yes my lord. Very much.” I panicked. Should I have called him ‘your grace’? Why was he asking this? Were my fears confirmed? Was I here to prove my loyalty and answer for my inadvertent betrayal?

“Oh good,” said the king as he sighed with relief. “I need friends my lady.” He looked sad. For a few moments he said nothing.

“You are my friend so you will marry my brother… I love my brother… then we can all be friends together. We can protect each other and…“ He stopped suddenly. He turned over my hand in his as if to inspect my palm. He reached for my other hand and did the same.

“Lady Somerset, you have brought me no parchment.”

Fear stuck me like a lightning bolt. Here I was, kneeling before the King of England and I had come unprepared. Parchment? I had never thought to bring parchment. Why would I need it? But then what did I know of the court? How could mother have sent me in like this? Why was I not fully prepared?

“I’m sorry y-y-your grace,” I quivered. If he had shouted at me I could have born it. I am used to loud, shouty brothers but gentle disappointment was different. If I had failed him, my heart would break. I was using all my strength to fight back tears. Within seconds, I lost the battle.

“No, no, no my lady,” the king said gently. He lifted a finger to my cheeks and wiped away my tears. Then he cupped my hands in his, “I do not want the parchment but people usually bring it to me. They say if I sign it, it will make them happy. I want to make people happy.”

He paused again. This time for a minute or two.

“However, when I do, my friends get cross with me. William was my friend. He used to get angry with me for signing all the parchment. He said that when I signed it, people would be able to take my money and my land. That they would get jobs which were other people’s jobs. When he was with me, people wouldn’t bring me the parchment. Except sometimes…sometimes William brought me parchment too.

“William said that my real friends wouldn’t bring me parchment.” He grasped my cupped hands tightly, but not roughly. “You must be my real friend.”

I felt relief flood through my body. It was like someone had lit a candle in my chest. For the first time in days, the knot in my belly started to loosen. The king wasn’t trying to punish me. He wanted to be my friend.

“William was my friend for a long time,” the king continued. Tears started to well in his kind eyes. “He used to look after me. But then he had to go away and someone killed him. I did forgive him – the man that killed him. It was very hard but I prayed and the virgin helped me forgive him.”

My heart was breaking as I saw the sadness in this gentle man’s eyes. William must be Suffolk, my old father-in-law. Could he have been so wicked to betray a man that loved him thus?

“Now Edmund is my friend…Edmund is your uncle. He looks after me now….and the Queen. The Queen is my wife. She is beautiful and she helps me.

“And you will be my friend too. I can call you Margaret. Will you call me Henry?”

“Oh yes your gra – Henry.” I was almost laughing with joy. The King was not a strict, brutal ruler. He was a kind, pious, gentle man. And he wanted to be my friend.

“Those of us who are friends have to stick together. Edmund says some people don’t want to be my friend. The Queen says Edmund is right.”

I knew my uncle would be right, he always was. But what a strange notion. The king was clearly a kind man. Why wouldn’t anyone want to be his friend?

“I have a cousin called Richard,” he lowered his voice slightly. “He is the Duke of York. I like him but Edmund says he doesn’t like me.” He cupped his hand over her ear and whispered. “He wants me to die. He wants to be king.”

I let out an audible gasp. I felt the heat of anger like I’d never felt it before. How could anyone try and kill the King? He was God’s own anointed ruler! A lovely, kind man.

“Edmund says we must work together. He says you will help. He says that you and my brother – he’s called Edmund too – will go and live in Wales and help keep it safe for me. Will you Margaret? Will you be my friend and help me?”

I had never felt more sure of anything.

“Oh yes Henry,” I said at once. “I will always be your friend. I will always help you.” I meant every word. This Duke of York must be a brutal man. A villain. A beast. And if I had anything to do with it, he would never prosper.

Uncle Somerset walked toward us and placed his hand on the king’s shoulder. They must be great friends to enjoy such intimacy.

“Alas my liege, it is time for Margaret to return to her mother. The Duchess awaits her.”

The king looked dazed again. For a moment he looked up at my Uncle before turning his gaze back to me.

“Margaret, before you go, I need to tell you a secret.”

“Of course Henry.” I was a good secret keeper.

“I am scared. When I die, I might go to hell.”

This couldn’t be true. Henry was the most pious man I had ever met, much more than my brothers or my uncle. But fear flowed from his eyes, so I listened with fervour.

“I think God wanted me to be a monk. But I am a king instead. He might be angry with me. I try to be pious. – to hear mass as often as I can. I try and help the church, and in truth,” he again cupped my ear and whispered to me, “I still live like a monk.”

I didn’t know why the last part was a secret. Or what it meant. How could he live like a monk? Monks spent all day in prayer or in study. Henry had to rule. Never the less, my heart went out to him. I had so recently feared punishment for something I had no control over. This great and kind man was tormented by the same fear.

“I will pray for you every day,” I said with fervour. “I believe you to be a good and holy man. You will be upright in God’s eyes.”

The King paused for a moment. He seemed to be pondering something.

“Margaret most of my friends are older than me. When I die, you might be the only one left.”

I didn’t understand.

“I need you to pray for me then. Hold masses. Make sure my soul is protected. Will you do that for me Margaret? You might be the only one.”

“Oh yes Henry. I will pray for your soul with all the devotion of my own. I will lead a blameless life so that God, the virgin and all the saints will hear my prayers. Me and my husband will say mass and pay for more to be held. We will do everything for you. I promise Henry. I promise.”

Within seconds my uncle was leading me out. I had not even been in the king’s presence for half an hour, yet my life had changed forever. My world and my heart had doubled in size.

Only minutes before I was a little girl. My concerns had been for a simple gown and my fears, just of earthly punishment. Now I was a woman with a cause. I was a friend of the King. I must protect him from his enemies and when he finally departed the mortal coil, I would do everything in my power for his soul. This kind, gentle man was a saint, a hero, a champion, and the world needed to know it.

On that day, I found my purpose. I was prepared to devote my life to it.

Lockdown must-reads #7: Katherine Swynford by Alison Weir

Posted on May 13, 2020May 13, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.

Getting into the head of today’s public figures is tough enough. You might well have a strong opinion about the Duchess of Cornwall or Cherie Blair only to meet them and be utterly surprised.

So attempting to reconstruct the life of an obscure 14^th century woman is an ambitious challenge. Especially when source material is scant and what we do have is highly biased.

Thankfully, it’s a challenge that Alison Weir rises to with robust research and inspired imagination.

‘Katherine Swynford: the story of John of Gaunt and his scandalous duchess’ is the kind of masterpiece that demonstrates exactly why Weir is one of the world’s best-selling historians. The author pieces together fragments of source material and weaves them into the tapestry of history. With Weir’s gift of empathy, the reader is left with little doubt as to why Katherine was a woman who captured the heart of a prince and aroused the suspicions of a nation.

The book begins with Sywnford’s arrival in England at around the age of two. It follows her early life and first marriage. It shows how the life of Katherine and her husband Hugh became entangled with the Lancastrian court.

As the book’s sub-heading suggests, the narrative also explores the story of John of Gaunt. By using sources such as Chaucer’s poetry, Weir paints a picture of Gaunt’s first marriage to Blanche of Lancaster. She brings to life the grief he almost certainly felt at her untimely death.

Gaunt and Swynford’s relationship almost certainly begins after the couple are respectively widowed. Gaunt, however, had embarked on a second marriage. The author uses compelling evidence to disprove later claims that their children were conceived in ‘double adultery.’ Using records of grants made to Katherine from John, the author credible speculates as to the date of birth of each of the four Beaufort children, while recognising the limitations of the exercise.

This book is not a photograph. It’s an artist’s impression. And Alison Weir is quite the painter. By detailing what we know of Kettlethorpe manor and great houses Katherine lived in we get a sense as to what daily life might have looked like. No sources mention her intellect or character. But Weir shrewdly deduces that her appointment as governess to the Lancastrian princesses suggests she was both clever and sophisticated. Above all else, the author rescues Katherine from the reputation dished upon her by monkish chroniclers.

Some commentators have been critical of this presentation of history. If the facts of what we know of someone’s life can fit on the back cover, is it appropriate to attempt a full biography? But I defy anyone to read this work and not deem it a useful exercise.

Intelligent speculation may have its limits. But with Weir’s gifts of empathy, her thorough research and knowledge of the era, one of history’s most elusive figures can finally step into the spotlight and enjoy a measure of the attention she deserves.

Katherine Swynford: The Story of John of Gaunt and His Scandalous Duchess is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

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Lockdown must-reads #1: The House of Beaufort by Nathen Amin

Posted on April 28, 2020April 28, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

It’s the book I’d always wanted to write. But I’m glad I didn’t. Charting the choppy course of the Beaufort dynasty over three generations is an ambitious undertaking.

In 1370 they didn’t exist. By the 1400s they were dominant political players. In 1471, they were eliminated. I could never have done their unparalleled story justice. Thankfully, Nathen Amin does.

The book begins by exploring the Beaufort’s shaky origins as the illegitimate children of John of Gaunt, third son of Edward III, and his scandalous mistress, Katherine Swynford. It examines their rise to prominence under Richard II following their parents’ marriage and their own legitimisation.

We then travel through the 1400s. We see how they helped establish and protect the reign of their half-brother Henry IV and the Lancastrian dynasty. We learn about their role at the heart of Henry V’s government.

As the book draws to a close, we see how the family dominated the conflict we now call the ‘Wars of the Roses’. Their devotion to the house of Lancaster never falters – a devotion they pay for with their total elimination of their house in the male line.

The accessible and fluid writing style makes it easy to bounce through the 285-page epic. As we do, we’re again struck by how closely the history of the Beauforts mirrors the history of 15^th century England. At least one of them was at the centre of every major event. They were the authors of victories. They were culpable for failures.

But this book is more than just a run-through of familiar events. Through focused research, intelligent guesswork and a hint of empathy the author explore the human dynamics and dilemmas that our subjects were doubtlessly faced with. John Beaufort’s conflict between his loyalty to Richard II and his devotion to his half-brother Henry IV, is an early example.

The author is bold in his attempt to rescue some of the Beauforts from a distorted reputation. He successfully sets Cardinal Beaufort’s decision to put Joan of Arc to death in its proper political context. He questions the oft-quoted notion that the younger John Beaufort died at his own hand.

Some of the Beauforts are well known to history. You simply can’t discuss Lancastrian kingship without discussing the Cardinal. Both Johns are remembered as the immediate ancestors of the Tudors. But this book sheds new light on the other two children to spring from Gaunt and Swynford’s union. Thomas is established as a war hero who became perfectly apt at playing the political game. Joan takes her place as a matriarch of the north.

There’s only one thing I would change about this book. It should be a trilogy. Each generation of the Beauforts deserve a book of their own. But I’m a fanatic. Publishers ultimately make the decision about what will sell. There probably isn’t a market for three books on the dynasty.

The hard-back edition comes with a clean and striking cover. Bearing the Beaufort arms, it looks grand on the bookshelf. There’s also some lovely photography at the book’s centre. The quality of the paper is a little on the low side. But the reader will be instantly absorbed by the page’s content. They’re unlikely to care what it’s printed on.

For too long the Beauforts have been reduced to a footnote in the Tudor’s origin story. In truth, they were the power breakers of Lancastrian kingship and the shapers of a century. It’s time they stepped forward and took their rightful place in the annuls of history. ‘The House of Beaufort’ plays a ground-breaking role in ensuring that they do.

The, House of Beaufort: The Bastard Line that Captured the Crown, is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

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The house of Beaufort – a family in Lancastrian favour

Posted on April 16, 2020May 1, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Favouritism could be the downfall of a medieval king. But a measured and sustained favouring of the Beauforts by their Lancastrian kin drew the family into the centre of England’s nobility.

When Edward IV usurped the throne in 1461, he made both his brothers dukes. Huge landed estates were bestowed on each of them. As they grew up, he drew them deeper into the governance of the realm.

At first, glance, this contrasts sharply with the actions of that other famous usurper, Henry IV. When he seized the throne in 1399 his brother, John Beaufort was reduced in rank from Marquess of Dorset to Earl of Somerset. At no single point was a major land endowment offered. The king even went out of his way to proclaim that descendants of his Beaufort kin could never be contenders for the crown.

Was it something they said?

But these isolated instances distort the truth. Under the house of Lancaster, the Beauforts reached the summit of society.

The advancement of the Beauforts began under Richard II. But it accelerated under the house of Lancaster

As Royal History Geeks will know, the Beaufort family finds its origins in the birth of John in 1374. The illegitimate son of John of Gaunt and his mistress, Katherine Swynford was soon joined by three siblings.

As children of the richest man in England and grandchildren of Edward III, the lives of the first Beauforts were never going to be ordinary. But as bastards, their prospects were unlikely to be great. Their parents eventually married and the Beauforts’ were legitimisation in the 1390s. But few could have predicted how the dynasty would become interwoven with the politics of the following century.

The advancement of the Beauforts has its roots in the reign of Richard II. But it reached a new level when their half-brother usurped the throne as Henry IV.

The best example of how advanced the Beauforts were by their Lancastrian kin is their rapid acquisition of land. By the end of the 1440s they were the dominant landowners in Somerset and a major landed player in the Westcountry. Just 50 years before, they didn’t own a single square meter in the county.

Bishop Beaufort served as his half-brother’s Lord Chancellor

It isn’t just the speed and volume of land acquisition that’s significant. It’s the location. In the late medieval period, landowners were desperate to consolidate their landholdings in an individual country. It cemented their Lordship. But kings were determined to frustrate such ambitions. The idea of nobles building unwieldy regional power bases did not appeal. When large estates were granted, they were typically regionally disparate.

In consolidating their power in Somerset, the medieval historian Chris Given-Wilson notes that the Beauforts enjoyed their share of luck. But such a speedy consolidation would not have been possible without royal support. The Lancastrian Kings had significantly bent the rules for the advancement of the Beaufort relatives. As a mark of high favour, this cannot be underestimated.

From the earliest days of Henry IV’s reign, it was clear that the Beauforts were a family in favour. John was constantly in his brother’s company. He held high and lucrative offices such as the Captaincy of Calais. Henry Beaufort served as Lord Chancellor. Joan remained a countess though many had expected her husband to be reduced in rank. The young Thomas was set on a path of advancement that would one day see him become Duke of Exeter.

But why, if the family were in favour, did it take three generations for their advancement to truly be cemented. The answer lies in the very real constraints that bound medieval kingship – or at least should if a king were to be successful.

As a usurper, Henry IV had to be particularly careful about favouritism

It’s tempting to think of medieval kings as absolute despots with the power to dispense patronage as they see fit. History, however, had taught all kings to be cautious. All, that is, but the most foolish.

Extreme favouritism made a king vulnerable. When a lesser man was plucked out of nowhere and rapidly raised above the nobility of the day, the political order was in danger of collapse.

This was not simply because such actions ruffled the feathers of proud aristocrats. It was because extreme favouritism undermined the whole system of lordship on which the government in medieval England was predicated.

A lord built his power base on the land he held and the ‘affinity’ he was able to build in the shires and counties in which he was a major landholder. If land was given to an unworthy favourite, there was less for the established nobility.

But the problem went deeper than that.

A lord’s affinity in counties and shires where they were dominant (their ‘countries’ as they called them) depended on an unwritten, but very real code. If the gentry and players of that community would honour the lordship of the major landowner, that Lord would, in turn, act in their favour. It was never as crude as a quid-pro-quo. But through his access to the King, a lord could obtain justice, maintain order and open up possibilities for advancement.

For all of this, a lord needed the ear of the king. And to be perceived as having the ear of the king.

This was a reasonable expectation. The nobility was the ordained body with whom the King should socialise, fraternise and consult. But in a time when favourites had come to prominence, the natural order of things was distorted. If a King was beholden to the advice of his favourites – government by clique – what confidence could people have that the nobility were listened to? A Lord was at risk of losing his affinity. Collectively, this is something the nobility were unlikely to suffer for long.

All Kings were mindful of this. And none more so than Henry IV. He had had just overthrown a King renowned for favouritism. He was likely to be extra sensitive to it.

None of this means King’s didn’t have favourites. Edward IV had William Hastings. Henry VII advanced his stepfather. But for favouritism to be tolerated, it had to be measured, moderate and gradual. This was the policy that Henry IV would pursue with his Beaufort kin.

John Beaufort was a constant companion of his half-brother, the King

I began this post by contrasting the Beauforts with the siblings of Edward IV. But really that’s like comparing apples and oranges. The house of York claimed to be the senior descendants of Edward III. The late duke of York had been recognised as rightful king of England. Edward IV’s brothers were treated as sons of a king. A dukedom was their birth right.

In 1399, however, Henry IV had (rather spuriously) claimed the throne through his mother. The status of his paternal half-siblings remained unaffected.

Besides, the Beauforts never really lost the taint of bastardy. Once they were legitimised the nobility welcomed them to their ranks. But they were never really accepted as royalty.

Good kings acted within the constraints of certain expectations. For a usurper like Henry IV to survive, patronage had to be used sparingly and strategically. That measured and sustained favouritism was focused on the Beauforts. In the dark days of the Wars of the Roses, that constant favour would be repaid in full.

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Could Margaret Beaufort’s parents have been a rare example of a medieval love match?

Posted on April 14, 2020May 6, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

John, duke of Somerset was a ‘Lancastrian prince’ who married beneath him. Was this an act of passion or were more pragmatic considerations in mind?

I’m going to let you into a little secret. At heart I’m a romantic. I think most Royal History Geeks are.

When I’m delving into the tales of England’s history, the personal lives and misadventures of those who shaped it always spark my curiosity. I’m as interested in them as I am the political, military or dynastic significance of their actions.

So as you can imagine, my sense of intrigue goes into overdrive when I think I’ve discovered that rare thing: a genuine medieval love match.

For a time I thought I had found just that in the union of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset and Margaret Beauchamp. Could it be that the parents of Margaret Beaufort and grandparents of Henry VII had married for love?

Let’s review the facts. John Beaufort moved in the upper reaches of nobility. He considered himself a Lancastrian prince. His status was high and he was in search of a fortune to match. The Earl of Somerset (as he then was) wanted to enter the league of the great landowners of the realm like York and Buckingham. And he also had a staggering ransom to pay off.

Like all the Beauforts, John was proud of his Lancastrian heritage and looking to join the ranks of England’s major landowners

Margaret Beauchamp was no slouch. She was from the top tier of the gentry and a landowner in her own right. But she was no aristocrat or major heiress. Besides, she already had children from a previous marriage. While her lands were not insignificant, they were unlikely to be inherited by a Beaufort descendant.

If money could not be the reason for their match, could the motivation have been more tender?

As I further explored the story of the pair, the tale of love seemed to continue. Ahead of setting off to war, John negotiated that should he die, his wife would retain the wardship of their then-unborn child. He was ensuring that mother and child would not be separated. Surely that can only be interpreted as an act of affection?

It was a wonderful thought. Sadly, it was one not informed by the realities of the time.

To a true Royal History Geek, there’s no such thing as too much research. Every facet of context we can absorb illuminates another piece of the picture we are trying to build. But I would have to concede that when you delve deeper and deeper into the economic and political structures of the day, you must prepare for romantic notions to be shattered.

With children from a previous marriage, Margaret’s modest fortune was unlikely to be inherited by any Beaufort descendent

John and Margaret are a case in point.

Elizabeth Norton was the first writer to set me straight on John and Margaret’s union. Margaret may not have been the sort of wife that a man of Somerset’s stature had dreamt of. But she was probably the best catch available. Having been imprisoned in France for 20 years, most of the prized brides of his generation had already been snapped up. Margaret, with her modest inheritance, could at least contribute something financially while he tightened his belt to pay off his ransom.

But what about Somerset’s negotiation with the King that his wife should keep their child’s wardship? Surely that could still be significant.

Significant it certainly was. But it’s probably not wise to interpreted it as an act of love.

Instead it should be understood as an attempt by the (by then) Duke of Somerset to protect the inheritance of his heir.

Had Somerset died while his child was a minor it would have created a ‘feudal incident’. And these were what 14^th century landowners feared above all else.

As Somerset held land directly from the King, Henry VI would have assumed responsibility for the young child. He would have granted his or her ‘wardship’ to someone currently in his favour. For the duration of the child’s minority, their ‘guardian’ would have taken responsibility for the Beaufort lands – and received all associated revenues. Crucially, whoever held the child’s wardship would control their marriage. He could literally sell it to the highest bidder.

Somerset, like all wealthy landowners, feared his estate falling victim to a ‘feudal incidents’

The child’s guardian could not deprive the heir permanently of their lands. But they could manage the estate in a way that would maximise short term revenue at the expense of responsible stewardship.

They could also try and ‘asset strip’ the estate by granting facets of land out to trust. This might prevent the heir from coming into the fullness of their revenue when they came of age. Such measures could be challenged legally. But it represented a clear risk to the child’s long-term best interests.

In the possible event of his early death, who could Somerset really trust to act in the best interest of his heir? Even his younger brother would have looked jealously upon the Beaufort lands that the offspring had inherited. Quite simply, only his duchess would possess a real interest in careful stewardship of the Somerset estate. Only Margaret could have been trusted to negotiate the best possible marriage for their child. And it is for these more economic and dynastic reasons, that the Duke would have been so keen to ensure that wardship fell to her.

By negotiating for Margaret Beaufort’s mother to hold her wardship, Somerset was protecting the Beaufort lands. When the time came, this arrangement would not be honoured.

Of course, none of this is evidence that the pair weren’t a love match. It could be argued that attempting to secure the wardship for his wife was still an act of consideration, if not affection. It could also be read as a mark of respect. Unlike most women of the day, Margaret had experience as a landowner. She had demonstrated the competence to look after her child’s affairs.

A romantic streak is an asset to anyone exploring the stories of our forebears. It sparks our interest and encourages us to dig a little deeper. However, if our first commitment is to the facts of history, we must always be prepared to revise our romance when our understanding of the era deepens.

The staggering wealth of Margaret Beaufort

Posted on March 22, 2020April 24, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

The young Margaret of Somerset became the greatest heiresses of her era; but her phenomenal wealth made her a pawn to politics.

I’m hardly the first Royal History Geek to be fascinated by Margaret Beaufort. The matriarch’s struggles, hardships and triumphs are the things that epics are made of.

A widowed mother at 13. A fifth column in the final days of the Yorkist regime. Against all the odds, her valiant efforts put her descendants on the throne. They’ve remained there ever since.

But even before the Wars of the Roses broke out, Margaret was a figure of note to contemporaries. Thanks to the early tragedy of her father’s death, the young Margaret inherited the bulk of the Beaufort fortune.

But just how wealthy was the young Margaret of Somerset? Did her wealth place her among the upper reaches of England’s nobility? Had she been a man, would her fortune have made her a major military player in the dynastic wars that dominated her life?

As so often with Margaret Beaufort questions, we must turn to the academic study by Michael K Jones and Malcolm G Underwood. In these pages, the young heiresses’ lands are explored in detail. Thanks largely to the fortune of her late grandmother, who was co-heiress to the earldom of Kent, by 1450 it was clear that Margaret wielded a fortune of approximately £1000 a year.

On its own, this doesn’t tell us much. Such a figure would be no great income today. How far did a grand go in the 1450s?

WATCH: my video discussing the wealth of Margaret Beaufort

To get some sense of an answer we must wind the clock back to seven years before Margaret’s birth. Ahead of a new tax to fund the war with France, all landowners were assessed and their annual income calculated. The findings have come down to us.

If Margaret were alive in 1436 and in possession of her fortune, she would have ranked among the top 20 landowners. Given that there were about 60 titled families at any one time, this placed Margaret in the upper-third of noble society. Those with lands to the value of £25 a year were deemed wealthy enough to tax. Margaret’s income was 40 times that sum.

However, we need to be very, very careful about this. Seven years is a long time. Income from land was subject to the stewardship of the landlord and, at least to some extent, market forces.

Furthermore, it’s clear from other evidence that the rich then – like the rich today – had gone to some length to disguise the extent of their wealth.

As an indication however, it remains illuminating. Chris Given-Wilson, the great late-medieval historian, estimates that an earl would typically enjoy £1000-1500 a year. This is clearly the category that Margaret was in. Nonetheless, money was not always so logically linked to title. Some earls – such as Devon, Westmoreland and Suffolk – seemed to have less. Some could claim considerably more. There were also a handful of wealthy barons who enjoyed fortunes greater than some earls.

Margaret, however, did not have an income worthy of a major power broker. If we take numbers from the 1436 list, add together the various titles and estates that were consolidated in the late 1430s and 1440s, we get a sense as to who the major players were at the beginning of the Wars of the Roses.

The Duke of Buckingham enjoyed almost £3000 a year, the Duke of York £3500 and the mighty Earl of Warwick £4,400. As stated earlier, these figures should be taken as conservative. Studies on the Duke of Buckingham for example, suggest his income was double this sum – at least in some years.

At the beginning of the Wars of the Roses, the Earl of Warwick was probably the richest noble in the land

Margaret’s wealth was both extraordinary and unremarkable. What made it so significant was her sex. It was unusual – thought not unique, even in her own time – for a woman to be in sole possession of such a staggering sum. And that staggering sum, of course, was up for grabs by a future husband.

Under the common law of primogeniture, women would only inherit a parent’s fortune if they were devoid of a brother. The eldest son would typically inherit the lot. But when there was more than one daughter (and no son) the girls had to share it out equally.

Great landowners hated the idea of daughters inheriting. This was not out of pure misogyny. They loathed the thought of their estates being divvied up among daughters and used to bolster the ambitions of the lesser Lords their girls would marry. As a result, many deployed legal devises – such as entails – to block female inheritance.

For whatever reason, the Beauforts never deployed such a devise. As her father’s sole surviving legitimate child, Margaret’s status as a major heiress was established within the first two years of her life.

Money was important to Margaret. When her son seized the throne, she would be granted plenty more of it. But this early fortune would lead to trauma. Before she was seven years old, she was abandoned to the machinations of the medieval marriage market. Her money, along with her trickle of royal blood, made her a pawn of politics from her earliest years.

Thank goodness that the matriarch of the Tudors was a born survivor.

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Friends, rivals, enemies? The relationship between Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville

Posted on May 14, 2017April 24, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

With the ‘White Princess’ currently broadcasting in America it’s important to take a more balanced look at the relationship between the so called ‘Red Queen’ and ‘White Queen.’

Being UK based I haven’t actually seen the ‘White Princess’ so I’m basing any comments on the book and what American friends have reported.

Sorry about the length and quality. Am working on my skills!

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Was Margaret Beaufort’s final marriage ever more than a business arrangement?

Posted on April 3, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

This is the last video on Margaret Beaufort’s marriages – but NOT the last video in the Margaret Beaufort min-series.

Let me know what you think…

How did Margaret Beaufort feel about her marriage to Henry Stafford?

Posted on April 3, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

We’re continuing to ask questions about Margaret’s marriages – this time to Henry Stafford.

Is it me, or do I look particularly cute in this vid 😉

Did Margaret Beaufort ever love Edmund Tudor?

Posted on April 3, 2017April 3, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

I promised you a mini-series on Margaret Beaufort. And a mini-series on Margaret Beaufort you will get.

Here’s my mutterings on her first (proper) marriage.

What think you all?

NB: I make two mistakes in this video – one I didn’t realise until I uploaded it. Can you spot it?