Showing posts with label Pembroke Castle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pembroke Castle. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 October 2015

Edmund Tudor: Father of the Tudor Dynasty



https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5a/Armoiries_Edmond_Tudor.png



My latest book, The Beaufort Bride follows the early years of Margaret Beaufort, mother to Henry VII. It is the first in a trilogy The Beaufort Chronicles. Book Two: The Beaufort Woman will be available later on in 2016. Today I am looking at Margaret's husband and father of her only son.

Edmund Tudor is best known as the father of Henry VII. His death in November 1456 at Carmarthen at the age of twenty-five means his presence on the historical record is scant. While his brother Jasper went on to play a leading role in the Wars of the Roses, Edmund passed into shadow. In most academic books he is mentioned briefly, often scathingly, but although short, his life was vital to British history. 

Edmund was the eldest son of Owen Tudor and Katherine de Valois, widow of Henry V. Katherine was rich and powerful, and a very desirable prize. The Protector, Humphrey of Gloucester disliked an attraction she formed for  the ambitious Edmund Beaufort and,  in 1427-28 an act was passed in parliament preventing Katherine from marrying without the consent of her son, the six year old King Henry VI. Even the king’s consent could not be given until he reached his majority; a clever move by parliament to disempower a prominent woman. Owen, a groom in Katherine’s household is a surprising choice for a woman of her status and there have been many theories to explain it. Perhaps the union between Owen and the queen dowager was a love match, perhaps not. There are suggestions that Edmund was in fact the bastard child of Edmund Beaufort and Tudor stepped in to save her reputation when marriage to Beaufort was denied but there is nothing to substantiate that claim. That particular subject requires a whole new blog and luckily there is a fabulous article by Susan Higginbotham about it here
Marriage of Katherine de Valois and Henry V https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2a/Marriage_of_henry_and_Catherine.jpg
There is no existing record of a marriage taking place between Owen and Katherine and many think that, if they married at all, they did so in secret making their offspring the illegitimate issue of a common law marriage. Their first child, Edmund, was born in June 1431, followed by perhaps six others but only Edmund and Jasper had any prominent role in history.
After Katherine’s death in 1437 Edmund and Jasper were given to Catherine de la Pole, the abbess of Barking who brought them to the attention of their half-brother, Henry VI. After their education was complete Henry kept Edmund at court, knighting him in 1449 and creating him Earl of Richmond in 1452. In 1453 Edmund was made legitimate and endowed with large grants and property; he was also given the wardship of the heiress, Margaret Beaufort. In 1455 they were married at Margaret’s mother’s home, Bletsoe Castle. Margaret was twelve years old.

Shortly afterwards Edmund was sent by the king to Wales to quell unrest there. At first they stayed at Caldicot, where Margaret was to become pregnant, then moved to Lamphey Palace which Edmund used as his power base. Conflict with the Duke of York’s henchman, William Herbert, led to Edmund’s capture and imprisonment at Carmarthen castle where he died either from wounds inflicted in battle, or from some infection contracted during his interment. Margaret, now just thirteen and well advanced in pregnancy, turned to her brother-in-law, Jasper, for protection and fled to Pembroke castle where she gave birth to a son.
 
Pembroke castle, birthplace of Henry VII

There was nothing unusual in a girl marrying so young but in most instances consummation was postponed until the girl had matured. Edmund however, did not wait and Margaret fell pregnant straight away. There may have been a few contemporary raised eyebrows but there was no undue outrage, and Margaret was not alone. In 1350 Bianca of Savoy was married at thirteen and gave birth a year later, and in 1493, aged thirteen, Lucrezia Borgia married her first husband and bore a child within a few years. Of course, although records show that many more girls who married young didn’t give birth until they'd been married a few years this does not necessarily prove that consummation did not take place. We should perhaps consider if they were physically able to pro-create. Child birth is not an immediate evidence of consummation having taken place, it is often delayed. We should not be too quick to judge. 
Margaret was as ambitious as her contemporaries, she may have considered herself lucky to have secured a relatively young and powerful husband. She was a cousin of the king, married to a beloved brother of the king. She could have done a lot worse. Had Edmund survived the outcome of the wars of the roses may have been very different and Margaret in a very good position.

I am not in any way condoning sex with young girls but we must not forget that the medieval mind set was vastly different to ours. When a young girl married it was seen as her taking her place in the adult world and celebrated as such. It is unlikely Margaret would have been expecting romance from marriage. She would not have been ignorant of the facts of life for there was little marital privacy in the medieval world. Marriages were celebrated by ‘bedding’; a custom when the wedding party accompanied the newly-weds to their chamber to witness them being put naked to bed. It was an occasion for ribaldry and jest, often a drunken finale to the wedding feast.
 
Margaret Tudor: Granddaughter of Margaret Beaufort https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/80/Margaret_Tudor_-_Daniel_Mytens_-_1620-38.jpg
In many books, both fiction and non-fiction, the union of Margaret and Edmund is described in horrified tones. Elizabeth Norton in her book Margaret Beaufort: Mother of the Tudor Dynasty, says the ‘marriage shows an unpleasant side of Edmund Tudor’s character, and it is clear that he was acquisitive to the point of disregarding his young wife’s health and well-being.’
Jones and Underwood in The King’s Mother describe the event as follows: ‘Edmund quickly made his twelve year old wife pregnant, his wish to secure a life interest in her estates taking priority over any concern for her safety and well-being.’

Margaret’s intervention in later life during the arrangements for her granddaughter and namesake, Margaret Tudor's marriage to the King of Scotland, is often taken as evidence that she regretted her own early union with Edmund. In ensuring that a clause was worked into the marriage treaty that consummation would not take place until her granddaughter was of age merely indicates Margaret regretted the unforeseen damage done by childbirth, not that she regretted her relationship with Edmund.
 
Margaret Tudor: grandaughter of Margaret Beaufort https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/80/Margaret_Tudor_-_Daniel_Mytens_-_1620-38.jpg
Some novelists have taken Margaret's early deflowering and run with it, several novels describe lurid wedding night scenes involving abuse and rape. It may very well be true that greed was at the root of Edmund’s decision not to wait to consummate the marriage but that doesn't make him a monster. I prefer to consider other possible explanations.

Until a marriage was consummated it was easily annulled, co-habitation provided a form of protection to the couple. Margaret was a great marital prize in a time of political unrest, her position so close to an unstable crown made her valuable, not just to Edmund. 

I am not sure why modern day readers (and authors) relish the idea of violence. It does not automatically follow that early consummation meant she was subjected to any form of force. She wouldn’t be the first twelve year old to have formed romantic feelings for an older man. There is nothing else to suggest Edmund was anything other than a good, attractive man. Perhaps she was willing; perhaps she was gently wooed and seduced. 
Edmund Tudor's tomb photo by Judith Arnopp

In her later life there is no evidence that Margaret ever spoke critically of Edmund; some sources suggest she requested to be buried with him, a request that was denied for she lies at Westminster close to her son. Edmund Tudor may have taken Margaret's virginity at a young age, his action may well have made it impossible for her to conceive or carry another child but, in doing so, he gave her the very thing she most cherished; her son, Henry, the future Henry VII. A son to whose cause she was to dedicate the remainder of her life; a son who, despite two further marriages, was to remain the love and the focus of her very remarkable life. 
If Margaret held no resentment toward Edmund, why should we?

Coming soon


Pembroke castle photo by Judith Arnopp
Photographs from Wikimedia Commons

Further Reading
Elizabeth Norton, Margaret Beaufort; the King’s mother
Debra Bayani, Jasper Tudor, godfather of the Tudor dynasty
Jones, M.K. & Underwood, M. G The King’s Mother
Skidmore, C. The Rise of the Tudor Dynasty
Susan Higginbotham, Arms and the Man: Was Edmund Tudor illegitimate click to read




Judith Arnopp is the author of seven historical fiction novels set in the medieval and Tudor period. She is currently working on Book two of The Beaufort Chronicles: the life of Margaret Beaufort. To read excerpts and customer reviews please visit:
Her webpage: www.juditharnopp.com






Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Margaret Beaufort - The King's Mother



Judith Arnopp
Henry Tudor Tower Pembroke Castle


During a recent visit to Pembroke castle I was struck by the warren of rooms where, so history tells us, the birth of Henry Tudor took place. A long, low dimly lit corridor leads to a circular chamber with a great fireplace and thick stone walls. The room was cold even in September and, even with the benefit of a large fire, tapestries and cushions to exclude drafts, I could imagine the unenviable discomfort of a child confronted with the terror of giving birth there on the bleakest of mid-winter nights.

28 January 1457 – Pembroke Castle

 A maid hurries along a dark passageway, the chilblains on her fingers smarting from the cold jug she carries. When she opens the door to the chamber, the draught hurtles along the frigid corridor behind her, lifts her petticoats and hastens her entry into the room. The door slams behind her, the torches flicker, plunging the company into gloom.
The ill-lit chamber stinks of sweat and wood smoke, lightened only by the fragrance of tangy aromatic herbs said to aid a birthing. As the maid approaches the bed and places the jug on a table, the girl on the mattress flings out a hand and grabs at the midwife’s arm.
The light from the fire accentuates her shadowed eyes, the drained white face. There is blood on her chin where she has bitten through her lip in her efforts to stem her screams.
“She is too young,” the maid whispers to the midwife. “She cannot survive.”
As the older woman stands up to press a hand to her aching back she casts a warning glare in the maid’s direction.
“Rubbish,” she says loudly for the benefit of the girl on the bed. “She is young and strong; I’ve seen weaker women than this survive it.”
Her words are for the benefit of the patient. The maid has assisted in many births and knows that this one has little chance of success. Lady Margaret is only just turned thirteen, she has the build of a child; her great pregnant belly is obscene against her stick thin limbs and undeveloped chest. If the mother survives the child won’t; and if the child does manage to breathe at all, it will undoubtedly be motherless.
The maid turns away and pours a cup of wine, leans over the bed to try to coax the girl to drink.
“Try just a sip, my lady. It will fortify you.”
The cup moves closer to Lady Margaret’s mouth but, before she can drink, another
Pembroke Castle photo- Judith Arnopp
spasm takes her. She grabs the maid’s wrist, making her drop the cup, slopping wine that soaks and spreads as fast as a plague across her shift.
Bulging eyes fix upon the maid, sweat emerges on the noble brow as her childish mouth opens in a grimace of furious pain. The maid tries not to mind the nails that bite like tiny knives into her skin.
“It’s all right, my lady. You are doing fine; women are built for childbirth.”
A turn of her head reveals the midwife burrowing beneath the girl’s shift, her deft hands palpating her great distended belly. At another assault Lady Margaret jerks up her knees and, with a twist of pity, the maid notices they are knobbly as a child’s and patterned with small blue bruises.
“That’s it, my lady, you can push now.” She speaks loudly, fighting to sound authoritative.
Margaret ducks her chin into her chest, the veins on her forehead standing out like blue rope as she grits her teeth and growls like a wild animal. The maid’s eyes sweep across the scene. Blood is smeared upon her ladyship’s thigh and there is more on the sheets, a steady flow puddling on to the floor.
From her seat between Lady Margaret’s knees the midwife runs her forearm across her brow, leaving a crimson streak. Her eyes meet the maid’s and with a brief shake of her head she admits the cause is lost.
The maid swallows, sends up a prayer before bending over her mistress again.
“Come on, my lady, you are a fighter. Fight now for your son.” She shifts on the mattress, looking up into Margaret’s face, forcing her to maintain eye contact. “I will tell you when; I will push with you.”
For another hour they battle on, only strength of will keeping Margaret from giving up, from letting go. Each time she begins to drift away she is dragged relentlessly back to the nightmare that her life has become. Pain washes in, receding too briefly before it floods back in again but then, just when she feels she can push no more, something shifts, and a light appears in her darkness.
“Get on the floor and squat.” At a signal from the midwife the maid thrusts her hands beneath Margaret’s armpits, supports her as she slides from the mattress to squat on the floor. When the next pain comes, oblivious of the blood and the birth fluid that soaks the rushes around her, Margaret bears down with what strength she has left.
This time something happens and with each effort her son makes progress, thrusting and slashing his way into the world.
©Juditharnopp2014
Pembroke Castle - photo-Judith Arnopp

***

Rowland Lockey [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Margaret Beaufort was just thirteen when she gave birth to her only child, Henry, later to become the father of the Royal Tudor dynasty. Margaret, a wealthy heiress and valuable asset to the Lancastrian cause, was married as an infant to John de la Pole. That marriage was dissolved and later, aged just twelve, she became the wife of the twenty two year old Edmund Tudor. When he succumbed to plague and died in Carmarthen just six months later, Margaret was already heavily pregnant.
In the middle ages it was normal for marriage to take place at a very young age but consummation did not usually take place until the wife was physically fully developed. Margaret’s body was underdeveloped even for a twelve year old and the immediate consummation caused some indignation among their contemporaries. Edmund’s eagerness to bed his wife was due, not to passion, but rather to his impatience to get his hands on her vast estates which would only be his on the birth of their first child.

Henry Tudor Michael Sittow (circa 1469-1525) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
In her widowhood Margaret turned for support to Edmund’s brother, Jasper, and took up residence at Pembroke Castle where she gave birth to Henry. The physical damage caused by his birth made it impossible for Margaret to bear any further children but that did not stop her from marrying again. Margaret, despite setbacks, ultimately triumphed. Married four times for political gain she proved herself to be a wise and politically astute woman. She is often labelled as being overly pious and domineering but her devotion to her son is unquestioned.
Raglan Castle -photo Judith Arnopp
While York was in power Margaret and Henry were separated. While she, with little hope, doggedly and quietly worked on his behalf he spent his early years in the custody of Yorkist adherents, the Herberts at Raglan Castle.
Henry’s youth was spent in exile in the courts of Europe. But Margaret never lost hope and worked untiringly for her son’s cause; her determined and single mined battle for what she saw as Henry’s birth right can only be admired.






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I am the author of seven historical novels, the three most recent being set in the Tudor period. Although the Tudor family have been written of time and time again I find them endlessly fascinating. I like to burrow beneath their ostentatious clothes and jewels to try to access the minds beneath – How did it feel? How did it smell? What did they think?

The Kiss of the Concubine US Link UK Link
 Intractable Heart US Link.
                                    UK Link

 The Winchester Goose US Link UK Link

 The Forest Dwellers US Link UK Link


 The Song of Heledd US Link UK Link

 Peaceweaver US Link UK Link









You can find more information on my webpage: www.juditharnopp.com
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