£ 10 by a royal kiss, and promptly doubled her contribution.
The army was raised by means of indenture – a contract whereby the principals bound themselves to supply an agreed number of men at an agreed fee. Richard, as the second man in the kingdom, indented for one hundred and twenty mounted lances and one thousand archers – about one-tenth of the host that embarked for Calais in June 1475. Louis’s adviser, Philip de Commynes, described it as ‘the most numerous, the best disciplined, the best mounted and the best armed that ever any king of that nation invaded France withal’. The French Court was close to panic: an Italian envoy reported that ‘his Majesty is more discomposed than words can describe and has almost lost his wits. In his desperation and bitterness he uttered the following precise words, among others, Ah Holy Mary, even now when I have given thee 1,400 crowns, thou dost not help me one whit.’
Nevertheless, divine intervention was at hand. Twelve months previously the Duke of Burgundy had bound himself to join Edward with a force of ten thousand men not later than 1 July 1475. But for months past he had been embroiled in the schemes of his eastern neighbour, the Holy Roman Emperor, and when he finally presented himself on 14 July, his promised army was busy pillaging Lorraine. ‘God,’ as Commynes remarked, ‘had troubled his sense and his understanding.’
Prospects of a second Agincourt were receding fast, and on 11 August they were blighted by a second disappointment. The Count of St Pol, who had promised Charles and Edward the important town of St Quentin, closed the gates and fired on the English as they advanced to take possession. On the same day the Duke of Burgundy took his leave, ostensibly to collect his army for an assault on Champagne. For Edward this was the last straw: the following day he opened negotiations with Louis. Too much of a realist to hope for the reconquest of Normandy and Guienne, Edward was quite prepared to let the threat of force extract concessions as favourable as any he might obtain on the battlefield. Louis also was a realist, and it took only three days to hammer out the main heads of agreement. For a down payment of seventy-five thousand crowns and an annual subsidy of fifty thousand, Edward would take his army home again. English and French merchants were freed from trade restrictions in each other’s countries. The five-year-old Dauphin was betrothed to Edward’s ten-year-old-daughter Elizabeth. Margaret of Anjou, a prisoner since Tewkesbury, would be ransomed for a further fifty thousand crowns. And both Kings promised to aid each other against rebellious subjects. Before the treaty was formally concluded on 29 August 1475 by the two sovereigns in person at Picquigny, Louis organised a gigantic alcoholic party for the entire English army at Amiens: it lasted three days.
There was, however, a minority who felt that Edward’s peace treaty was no cause for celebration – among them the Duke of Gloucester. Richard was conspicuously absent from the signing ceremony: his sympathies were with the Gascon knight who told Commynes that Picquigny was a disgrace outweighing all King Edward’s battle honours. Or, as Louis himself put it, ‘I have chased the English out of France more easily than my father ever did; for my father drove them out by force of arms, whereas I have driven them out with venison pies and good wine.’
Who, in fact, gained most from the Peace of Picquigny? The speed with which terms were arranged suggests that both sides got what they wanted. Edward had made his point about Louis’s meddling in English affairs, and received a handsome tribute for the privilege. Louis was left free to plot the destruction of Burgundy, and he could call the King of England his pensioner.
On 21 August Edward’s army re-embarked for England and early in September Richard was back in Wensleydale. Here he spent the best part of the next two years. When
The army was raised by means of indenture – a contract whereby the principals bound themselves to supply an agreed number of men at an agreed fee. Richard, as the second man in the kingdom, indented for one hundred and twenty mounted lances and one thousand archers – about one-tenth of the host that embarked for Calais in June 1475. Louis’s adviser, Philip de Commynes, described it as ‘the most numerous, the best disciplined, the best mounted and the best armed that ever any king of that nation invaded France withal’. The French Court was close to panic: an Italian envoy reported that ‘his Majesty is more discomposed than words can describe and has almost lost his wits. In his desperation and bitterness he uttered the following precise words, among others, Ah Holy Mary, even now when I have given thee 1,400 crowns, thou dost not help me one whit.’
Nevertheless, divine intervention was at hand. Twelve months previously the Duke of Burgundy had bound himself to join Edward with a force of ten thousand men not later than 1 July 1475. But for months past he had been embroiled in the schemes of his eastern neighbour, the Holy Roman Emperor, and when he finally presented himself on 14 July, his promised army was busy pillaging Lorraine. ‘God,’ as Commynes remarked, ‘had troubled his sense and his understanding.’
Prospects of a second Agincourt were receding fast, and on 11 August they were blighted by a second disappointment. The Count of St Pol, who had promised Charles and Edward the important town of St Quentin, closed the gates and fired on the English as they advanced to take possession. On the same day the Duke of Burgundy took his leave, ostensibly to collect his army for an assault on Champagne. For Edward this was the last straw: the following day he opened negotiations with Louis. Too much of a realist to hope for the reconquest of Normandy and Guienne, Edward was quite prepared to let the threat of force extract concessions as favourable as any he might obtain on the battlefield. Louis also was a realist, and it took only three days to hammer out the main heads of agreement. For a down payment of seventy-five thousand crowns and an annual subsidy of fifty thousand, Edward would take his army home again. English and French merchants were freed from trade restrictions in each other’s countries. The five-year-old Dauphin was betrothed to Edward’s ten-year-old-daughter Elizabeth. Margaret of Anjou, a prisoner since Tewkesbury, would be ransomed for a further fifty thousand crowns. And both Kings promised to aid each other against rebellious subjects. Before the treaty was formally concluded on 29 August 1475 by the two sovereigns in person at Picquigny, Louis organised a gigantic alcoholic party for the entire English army at Amiens: it lasted three days.
There was, however, a minority who felt that Edward’s peace treaty was no cause for celebration – among them the Duke of Gloucester. Richard was conspicuously absent from the signing ceremony: his sympathies were with the Gascon knight who told Commynes that Picquigny was a disgrace outweighing all King Edward’s battle honours. Or, as Louis himself put it, ‘I have chased the English out of France more easily than my father ever did; for my father drove them out by force of arms, whereas I have driven them out with venison pies and good wine.’
Who, in fact, gained most from the Peace of Picquigny? The speed with which terms were arranged suggests that both sides got what they wanted. Edward had made his point about Louis’s meddling in English affairs, and received a handsome tribute for the privilege. Louis was left free to plot the destruction of Burgundy, and he could call the King of England his pensioner.
On 21 August Edward’s army re-embarked for England and early in September Richard was back in Wensleydale. Here he spent the best part of the next two years. When
Similar Books
