← THIS IS HISTORY — A DYNASTY TO DIE FOR
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- [00:00]
Dan Jones
Hello, it's Dan here. I'm about to bring you snout to snout with the wild boar that changed history. But before that, I thought I'd remind you about the fun our royal favourites are having over on our Patreon. If you subscribe, you get access to all bonus episodes, tell us what you'd like to hear more of and chat with your fellow favourites on our chat rooms. There's a fantastic medieval travel thread. Thanks to royal favourite Geoff for for kicking that off. Now, here's the episode. The hunters creep through a forest on a crisp autumn day. Fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet. Hounds charge around, their noses to the forest floor, baying as they pick up the scent of their prey. It's November 1392, and this is a beautiful day to be out hunting in northern France. The men spread out, excited but alert. They're on the trail of wild boar. These beasts, which roam free in French woodland, are known for their delicious meat, which picks up the subtle flavor of acorns or whatever other morsels they forage from the forest floor. But boar are just as well known for their sharp tusks and bad attitudes. A really big boar can be more than a meter tall at its shoulder. And while they usually leave humans alone, if you go after them, they'll come after you twice as hard. All of a sudden, the hounds start barking and shoot off in the same direction. They're onto a boar and by the sound of its enraged squealing, this is a huge one. The men break into a chase, crossbows, spears and swords at the ready. They all want to be the first to have a go at their bristly quarry. But as they close in on the boar, they hear another horrible sound. Someone, a human, is screaming in agony. When they burst into a forest clearing, they see the dogs snapping and snarling in a circle around a boar. The boar is fending at them with its bloody tusks, eyes mad with fury. On the ground, writhing and bleeding profusely, is one of the hunters with his belly torn open and his guts hanging out. It's Robert de Vere, the 30 year old exiled favorite of Richard II. Plantagenet, king of England, is lying gored on the forest floor. The hunters fall on the boar and slaughter it. But there's nothing they can do to save de Vere. Days later, this Adonis is dead. Nobody saw this coming. But little does Richard know that the Grim Reaper's just warming up. I'm Dan Jones and from Sony Music Entertainment, this is History Season seven of A Dynasty To Die for episode eight, Four Funerals and a Wedding hey podcast listeners, have you heard you can listen to your favorite podcasts and ad free. That's good news. With Amazon Music, you have access to the largest catalog of ad free top podcasts included with your prime membership. To start listening, download the Amazon Music app for free or go to Amazon.com ADFreePodcasts that's Amazon.com ADFreeP Podcasts to catch up on the latest episodes without the ads in the seven seasons we've been hanging out with the Plantagenets, we've encountered some pretty spicy ways to die. We've heard our characters trampled at tournaments, split from head to waist with a single axe blow and sheesh. Kebab with a red hot poker. Allegedly, Death by Peppa Pig is a new one for the collection. But if it sounds vaguely comical, let me just say this. In researching this episode, I spent like an hour on YouTube watching modern day iPhone footage of of people being attacked by these bristly bastards. Let's just say I've got a newfound respect for our porcine friends and vanishingly little desire ever to fight one. So RIP Robert de Vere and thank you for your service in reminding all of us to put some respect on the name of organic sausages in 1392. The news of de Vere's death doesn't take long to travel to England, and when Richard II hears what's happened, he's devastated. The previous year he had suggested to the English nobles that it might be time to let bygones be bygones and have de Vere come home from the exile he'd been living in since the merciless parliament of 1388. The nobles had given Richard a very firm two word answer. First word, four letters. Second word, off. Richard swallowed this, having learned the hard way the importance of picking his battles with the nobility. But he hadn't given up hope of one day seeing his blue eyed boy again. Now de Vere is dead, called to God as Richard puts it when he announces this tragedy to the realm of and they'll never frolic together again. The king holds back from an immediate public show of caterwauling and sobbing. The nobles made it clear when they refused their consent for de Vere's return that they missed him about as much as a bad dose of the Black Death. But in private, Richard won't let de Vere's memory go. He'll have his vengeance when the time is right. It'll take another 18 months for circumstances to start to shift in Richard's favor. But the time comes alright, and what sparks the shift is another death, or rather three of them. It begins not in Richard's household, but in his cousin Henry. Bolingbroke's last episode. We heard how, after chasing de Vere out of England, then joining the appellants at the merciless Parliament, Bolingbroke took himself off on an extended gap year. He left his dad, John of Gaunt, to handle Lancastrian family business and keep a calm hand on English government, and went jousting, crusading and animal collecting around Europe and the Holy Land. When Bolingbroke comes back in 1393, it's to a big happy family in Peterborough. But on June 4, 1394, that big, happy family is blown apart when Bolingbroke's wife, Mary de Boone, dies giving birth to their sixth child, Philippa. Mary is only 24 and her loss is a crushing blow to Bolingbroke and to those of their children who are old enough to understand what has happened. The loss of Mary breaks up the idyllic home in Peterborough and the children are scattered for the rest of their young years between various other castles and palaces in the Lancastrian estates. And it's not the only death in the family. Just a few weeks before Mary dies, John of Gaunt loses his wife, Duchess Constanza. Gaunt hadn't exactly had the loving partnership with constant Constanza that Bolingbroke enjoyed with Mary. Gaunt's had a long term mistress called Catherine Swinford, who's born him a whole brood of illegitimate children. Watch out for them is all I'll say for now. If you want to hear me untangle Gaunt's many marriages and their critical importance in English history, listen to our bonus episodes over on Patreon. This is a double hammer blow to the Lancastrian dynasty rocking Gaunt and Bolingbroke's lives at a time when England has been benefiting from their stable influence. But the third blow of the hammer falls at the royal court on June 7, 1394. That's three days after Mary de Boone's death. Richard's wife and Queen Anne of Bohemia also passes away. She dies at Sheen palace, probably from plague, aged 28. You might think that for Gaunt, Bolingbroke and Richard all to lose their wives within three weeks of each other would spark some sort of solidarity or sympathy in the extended royal family. But that doesn't seem to be the case. Constanza and Mary are buried with honour in the same church in Leicester, but Richard makes sure that it's his loss and his grief that command everyone's attention. In the summer of 1394, there's not a lot of evidence that Richard and Anne were particularly lovey dovey. The king seemed to like having his wife sort of vaguely around, but it never seems to have gone much further than that. Now Anne is dead, though, Richard embarks on a path pageant of theatrical devastation. One chronicler records how Richard makes the extravagant vow that for a year after the Queen's death, he would not enter any place that he knew she had previously been, except for a church. Richard has Sheen palace, where Anne died, torn down brick by brick Austrian, ostensibly as an expression of his heartbreak and dismay. It's kind of romantic. Or it is until you scratch the surface. Because for all his performative histrionics, there are one or two signs that Richard might not be as straightforwardly wrecked by Anne's death as it first seems. Whereas Gaunt and Bolingbroke really do seem to be hit hard, albeit in different ways, by the loss of their wives, Richard's grieving is a bit more cynical, as becomes clearer with every passing year. Robert de Vere's death in exile by bore in 1392 cuts Richard to the quick. Anne of Bohemias in 1394 is different. In fact, Richard sees it as nothing so much as an awkward opportunity, a chance to do the two things he likes more than any other. Firstly, to show off, and secondly, to plan spectacular revenge on those men he blames for doing him dirty in the dim and distant past.
- [11:57]
Molly Sims
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- [12:57]
Jamie and Sophie
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- [14:19]
Dan Jones
Westminster Abbey is cool and solemn on a summer's day packed with mourners awaiting the arrival of the little coffin of Queen Anne, who's to be laid to rest there this afternoon. It's August 3rd, 1394, and for the last five days, the whole of London has been given over to a somber procession. Anne's body was brought slowly downriver from Sheen palace, lay in St. Paul's Cathedral for an overnight vigil, and is now here in Westminster for the last stage of the the procession. There are sniffles and a few sobs among the congregation. Anne was Queen of England for 14 years, after all. But there's also some restless grumbling. The funeral was supposed to start some time ago, but the King isn't letting it begin. He's stalking around with his face screwed up in fury. The Queen is here. Everyone is ready. Who can Richard be waiting for? Slow, languid footsteps on the cathedral's stone pavement soon reveal who it is. The Earl of Arendelle is the very last of the mourners to arrive, and from the look on his face, he gives absolutely zero shits about that fact. He may as well be sucking on a lollipop as he saunters in. Richard has been waiting for this moment and he wheels around when he hears Arundel arrive. There's no love lost between these two. Arundel was one of the leading appellants who humiliated Richard in 1388. He hasn't really mellowed since. During recent riots in the north of England, Arundel very conspicuously did nothing at all to help restore public order. He's been beefing with John of Gaunt, publicly condemning him and Richard for having patched up their differences. Arundel did show up a few days ago at the start of the funeral procession, but only because he wanted to ask permission to leave early. That was denied, but now the concluding moment has arrived. The guy is late. It's like he's trying to goad Richard. And maybe he is, but even Arundel is stunned by what happens next. On turning round and seeing the Earl, Richard grabs a ceremonial cane from one of his attendants. He storms towards Arundel and slams the stick into the side of his head, beating him so violently with it that Arundel falls, falls down, blood spraying all over the cathedral floor. Then Richard orders the Earl to be picked up and dragged off to prison in the Tower of London. You know what they say, payback's a. But payback is also in a holy house like Westminster Abbey. Offensive, sacrilegious and borderline deranged, as one chronicler puts it. The King has polluted the place with the blood of the Earl of Arundel, and that's a real practical problem. First the blood has to be mopped up, then there's a whole business of priests reconsecrating the spot where the Earl was attacked. This causes hours of delay to the funeral, and although it's high summer, it dark outside by the time the burial is complete. If Richard was genuinely here to honour the memory of his dead wife, he has a funny way of going about it. And that's not all. As we've heard, Richard has been big on the histrionics since Anne's death. Sheen palace is slated for demolition, but is that really because Anne died there? Or does it just fit quite neatly with Richard's plans to build an even bigger and better palace on a site nearby? Richard says he's not setting foot in any place that Ann did for a year out of grief, but in fact, he has plans to visit his royal lands in Ireland right after the funeral and to be there for nearly a year, since Anne of Bohemia missed her chance to hit up Dublin and go on the Guinness factory tour while she was Alive. How much bother is this actually going to cause him? It's a great PR stunt that costs Richard nothing. Richard commissions a fine tomb for Anne, but it's actually a double tomb in which he's also going to be laid to rest when his time comes. In other words, this is very much Richard being Richard. Narcissistic, solipsistic, performing Majesty for Majesty's sake. It's all about him. What's more, Richard has the confidence to strike literally against the Earl of Arendelle, because he senses that Anne of Bohemia's death may be like a bit sad. But it cuts him a massive break, because with Anne dead, he's free to marry again. Sure, it's not like Richard's some kind of player who's been champing at the bit for 14 years of marriage. For the moment, he can get back out there and nab a new chica. But a second wedding is a golden chance to make up for the mistakes that were made in bringing Anne to England. In 1381, Anne turned up penniless, in fact, with a bill for supporting the wars of her Bohemian family. Marrying her also antagonised the French and made the quest for peace harder. This time things are going to be different. If Richard lands a bride who comes with a fat dowry, he can solve the financial problems that have allowed his nobles to kick him in the bores year after year in Parliaments. If he can find a wife whose hand in marriage can put a seal on negotiations to end the Hundred Years War, it would be like melting all his political problems into in one go. And as luck would have it, in the background, Richard's long suffering uncle, John of Gaunt has been on the case. Much to the chagrin of men like Arundel. Gaunt has been lining up a deal with the French which will bring about a peace, or at least a long term truce in the war, while also landing Richard a sack full of gold. A daughter of the French King, Charles VI is being offered up to seal the deal. Her name is Isabelle of France and in terms of her diplomatic credentials, she's perfect marriage material for Richard ii. So it looks like everything is falling into place for the 20something Bachelor King. There's only one teensy little issue to consider. Isabella France is only five years old. Hello everyone, we're Jamie and Sophie. You may remember us from Newlyweds and then Newlyweds. But now, guys, things are about to get even wilder as we take on our biggest adventure yet. Becoming parents. Yeah, that's right, Newlyweds is now nearly parents. And we're bringing you the same honest, heartwarming takes on our journey to parenthood. I guess. Join us as we find out what it really means to become a family while trying not to kill each other. Get ready for Nearly Parents, your favorite new podcast. The little Princess Isabelle of France is brought forward, sniffing and crying, to be handed over to the English lords and ladies waiting to receive her amid a busy village of diplomatic pavilions not far from Calais. It's October 1396 and she's now six. But no one's idea of a blushing bride. The poor kid has her dollies packed in her wedding trousseau. Still, no one's pretending. The marriage game in the Middle Ages is always played in good taste. So when Richard receives his young bride, then hands her over to some high ranking English ladies to be looked after, it's little more than business. Well done. Richard won't be having any marital relations with his new queen for the better part of a decade, if at all, which is more or less the way he likes it. Meanwhile, his royal treasury is going to be refreshed with a dowry of 800,000 thousand francs. That's 130,000 quid, or an entire year's royal income. For the first time in a long time, Richard is going to be flush. Even better, there's going to be no war to fritter his money away on. A 30 year truce comes into play. Richard and his counterpart Charles are like John and Yoko, giving peace a chance which suits them both down to the ground. For all that, Richard likes smashing walking sticks around unarmed people's heads. He's never been a warmonger like his dad or granddad. Charles VI of France, meanwhile, has spent the last four years drifting in and out of insanity. He's in no fit state to fight anyone except for his own servants, whom he periodically tries to kill when he goes do lally. So for Richard in particular, this marriage is win, win, win. No sex, no fighting, and lots of lovely money. Which means he can turn his mind to the things he really wants to do. Like getting his own back on the bastards who screwed him over in 1388. Every single one of them. If we want to peer into Richard's state of mind around this time, I think two things can tell us how he's thinking. The first is a staggeringly beautiful artwork today housed in the National Gallery in London. It's called the Wilton Diptych, and it's made for Richard in 1395, between Anne of Bohemia's death and his marriage to Little Isabella France. The Wilton diptych shows Richard as a young man, perhaps even a teenager, angelic and beautifully dressed, presented in the company of three other figures. They're John the Baptist, the Holy Innocent, St. Edward the Confessor and the long dead Saxon king called St. Edmund the Martyr, who was killed by the Vikings. Richard is kneeling because on the other side of the diptych is none other than the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus surrounded by a whole army of angels. All these angels are wearing Richard's personal badge of loyalty, a white heart or stag with a golden crown and chain around its neck. The King is presented here as a living saint, as hard done by as Edmund and Edward and the Baptist, but in communion with Christ and the Virgin Mary and all the heavenly host. Grandiose much. The other thing that can take us into Richard's mindset in the time around his marriage to Isabel is something more tangible. In September 1395, Richard manages to have de body exhumed from its burial place in France and brought back to England to be buried in the in the de Vere family mausoleum in Essex. Richard holds an elaborate reburial ceremony for his dead friend, at which he opens the cypress wood coffin in which de Vere was originally buried and looks at his embalmed body. Here's a chronicler's report on what happens next. He looked long at the face and touched it with his finger, publicly showing to Robert when dead the affection which he had shown him previously when alive. This creepy display is watched by the barest clutch of England's high and mighty. De Vere's mum is there, as is the Archbishop of Canterbury and a host of other churchmen. But, continues the chronicler. Few nobles attended the funeral. They had not yet swallowed the hate they had conceived against Robert. But if the nobles haven't swallowed their hatred for de Vere, Richard has very much not swallowed his hatred for them. In fact, he's been cooking it for nearly 10 years now. He's wealthy and safe from French invasion. He's ready to strike. This bro is all the way through the looking glass and very shortly all England is going to feel his wrath. One last thing from me for my royal favourites, who are our dear subscribers on Patreon? For this episode's discussion, we'd love to hear about other novel ways to die. Getting gored by a French boar is certainly one way to go. I'll be sharing my top medieval death there too. Head to patreon.com thisishistory to share how you'd meet your medieval fate.