The battle was set for Coventry on 16 September 1398. The tournament was to be held at Gosford, and the field survives still as Gosford Green. Bolingbroke commissioned armour from Milan, and Mowbray from Bohemia. The lords of the kingdom were consumed with excitement; this would be the most famous duel of their lifetimes. The days of Arthur and the Round Table might be said to have returned. The two dukes came forward on the appointed day. The archbishop of Canterbury was among the many thousands of spectators. Henry Bolingbroke arrived at nine in the morning, with six mounted retainers. Challenged about his business he proclaimed in a loud voice, ‘I am Henry, duke of Hereford, come to do my duty against the false traitor Thomas, duke of Norfolk’. He crossed himself and rode to his pavilion at one end of the lists. The king entered, surrounded by the Cheshire archers, and proceeded to his chair of state where he might survey the proceedings. Mowbray then appeared and, giving the same challenge as his antagonist, cried out, ‘God save the right!’
The two knights were about to proceed against one other. Bolingbroke spurred his horse forward, while Mowbray remained still. But the king rose and called out, ‘Hold!’ The dukes retired to their respective pavilions, and the king withdrew. Two hours passed, inciting intense speculation among the crowds of spectators. Then the Speaker of the Commons appeared and announced to the multitude the king’s decision. Bolingbroke was to be banished from the realm for ten years, and Mowbray would be exiled for life. The sentence on Bolingbroke provoked loud calls of dismay, but the king’s will was law.
The king really had little choice in the matter. Victory for either man would cause him considerable difficulty. If Mowbray was triumphant, the king’s role in the murder of Gloucester might be subject to scrutiny. If Bolingbroke were the winner, his chance of succeeding or even supplanting the king might be increased. The king had no heir, and he had only recently married a child of seven – Isabella, the daughter of the king of France – from whom no issue could yet be foreseen. It was a most disappointing end to what might have been a great tale of chivalry. But the king prevailed. The two men sailed into exile. Thomas Mowbray died in Venice in the following year, but for Henry Bolingbroke the story was only beginning.
He had sailed to France with a manifest sense of injustice at the hands of the king, and waited there in the hope that favourable events might follow. The king of France, Charles VI, granted him a residence in the centre of Paris. Then, five months after his departure from England, his father died. John of Gaunt, as the first duke of Lancaster, was the progenitor of what became known as the house of Lancaster; he owned vast territories in the north of England, and possessed more than thirty castles throughout the realm. He had been a prominent, but not a notable, commander and administrator. He had in particular earned the hatred of Londoners, and of those who had taken part in the rebellion of 1381, as de facto leader of the realm during the king’s minority. He was a man who combined familial greatness with personal mediocrity.
Henry Bolingbroke might in the normal course of events be expected to inherit his father’s lands and castles. But he was in exile. And the king was greedy. Richard then took a course that alienated much of the support he had acquired over the years of his rule. He extended Bolingbroke’s banishment in perpetuity, and confiscated his father’s estates. Such an interference in the laws of inheritance was immensely shocking to a society that relied deeply upon custom and precedent. No landowner, or landowner’s family, could feel safe under such a king. Any monarch who unlawfully deprived his subjects of their property, in defiance of the injunctions of the Magna Carta, was at once considered to be a tyrant.
At the beginning of May 1399, in a spectacular act of folly, Richard sailed to Ireland with an expeditionary force. It is difficult to understand why he chose to absent himself from his kingdom at such a difficult time; the only explanation must be that he had lulled himself, or been lulled, into a false sense of security. Certainly he believed that he was under divine guidance, and that no earthly enemy could defeat an anointed king. With God as his guard, what did he have to fear?
Henry took advantage of the king’s absence and, in the early summer, sailed from Boulogne; on 4 July he landed at Ravenspur in Yorkshire with no more than 300 soldiers. His courage, and earnestness, cannot be in doubt. From his own old territories in the north, he began his campaign to destroy the tyrant of England. Richard had left the kingdom to the guidance of Edmund, duke of York, his uncle and Henry’s. York was neither principled nor courageous. He had no intelligence of Henry’s movements, and at first marched west rather than north-east. In the confusion Henry strengthened the castles on his lands, and in the process several thousand men flocked to his service. At Doncaster he met the senior family of the north, the Percys; Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland, was accompanied by his son known as Hotspur.
In their presence Henry swore an oath that he had returned to England only to claim his lands; he had no designs upon the king himself. He may have been lying, but it is more likely that he was not yet sure of his ultimate goal. He would proceed with caution, taking advantage of events as they unfolded. The combined army of the rebel lords and retainers then began the march south, taking control of central and eastern England with only pockets of resistance. It may now have occurred to Henry that the king was too unpopular to be saved.
Richard himself was still in Ireland. He received news of the invasion by 10 July, but did not set sail for England for another two weeks. He could not muster enough ships. In that period his cause was lost. When the Welsh gentry were summoned to support him, they replied that they believed Richard to be already dead. Henry had decided to move west in order to confront the king, if and when he should return, and at a parish church in Gloucester the duke of York surrendered to the invader. York realized that Richard’s hopes of retaining the crown were diminishing day by day. He joined Henry’s army and went on to Bristol, where three of the king’s most prominent officials were executed. It had become a triumphal progress.
Richard landed on the Welsh coast on 24 July. He lingered here for five days, by which time he had received news of both the surrender of his uncle and the events at Bristol. It is reported that he was alternately despondent and defiant. Eventually he decided to attempt to reach one of his supporters, the earl of Salisbury, who was at Conway Castle in North Wales. He put on the garb of a poor priest and, with fifteen supporters, fled in the dead of night. It took him nine days to reach his destination. A contemporary observer reports that he was now utterly downcast and dejected. He frequently broke into tears.
Henry shadowed him along a parallel course. He, too, went north from Bristol towards Chester. So the two cousins were ready for the final encounter. The king and the earl of Salisbury agreed that they would send representatives to Henry, demanding to know his intentions. In return Henry sent his negotiator, the earl of Northumberland, to converse with the king at Conway. Northumberland, prudently, concealed his army before entering the king’s presence. It is reported that Northumberland swore to the king that Henry wished only for the return of his own lands and would protect the king’s right to rule. It is impossible to judge whether Henry was deceiving the king. After a delay of a few days Richard agreed to leave the castle in the company of Northumberland. Yet his was only a tactical surrender. He told his supporters secretly that Henry ‘would be put to bitter death for this outrage that he has done to us’. That prospect must also have occurred to Henry himself.