Wealth, Land, and Titles – Little Guarantee for a Happily Ever After

by Charlene Newcomb

Ranulf de Blundeville (or Blondeville), sixth earl of Chester, was born in 1170 during the reign of Henry II. Ranulf was the oldest son of Hugh, earl of Chester, and Bertrada de Montfort, a cousin of the king. When Ranulf’s father died in 1181, the young heir became a royal ward of Henry II. With his mother and four sisters, he was sent to the king’s court in Normandy. Little is known of Ranulf’s early life, but he became one of England’s most powerful and wealthy magnates who served four kings: Henry II, his sons Richard I and John, and John’s son, Henry III. The Chester family’s extensive holdings stretched from England and across the channel. Ranulf later became Earl of Lincoln and of Leicester. He was hereditary Viscount of the Bessin in central and western Normandy, encompassing the Viscounties of Bayeux and of Avranches; he was also Viscount of St Sauveur-le-Vicomte, Viscount of the Val de Vire and Baron of St Sever. At the time of his death, he had 138 manors. He had it all, or so one would think.

Ranulf was four years younger than King Henry’s son John. They may have been companions at court, but Ranulf avoided entanglement in the bitter battles between the king and his sons in the 1180s likely due to his age. Interestingly, his own father Hugh had sided with the young Angevins in the rebellion a decade earlier. Hugh had been imprisoned and eventually was restored his lands when he gave his allegiance to Henry. But Ranulf is not mentioned in the contemporary chronicles during his teenage years, until he reached his majority and was knighted by King Henry II in 1188 (some records say 1189) and assumed control of his estates.

The nineteen year old was thrust into the limelight when, in that same year, Henry arranged for his marriage to Constance, duchess of Brittany. She and her Breton lords had been fond of Geoffrey, her first husband - son of Henry II — but they disliked the Plantagenets and their interference in Brittany and often leaned toward supporting the French king as Geoffrey had. Henry and Richard saw the union between Ranulf and Constance as a way to keep Brittany aligned with the Angevins, which was critical to maintaining the open sea lanes between England and the continent. And in negotiations in 1190 with King Tancred of Sicily, Richard had acknowledged Constance’s three-year-old son Arthur as his heir in a marriage arrangement with Tancred’s daughter.

Constance of Brittany

Through Constance, who was nine years his senior, Ranulf added Earl of Richmond and Duke of Brittany to his titles. For a young man with wealth, titles, and extensive lands on both sides of the Channel he certainly was in a position to take a leadership role not only in Brittany, but also in England. Based on the scant information of Ranulf’s life in the years 1189-1194 he did not. Unlike many nobles, he did not accompany King Richard on crusade. He wasn’t involved in running the realm like William Marshal, Hubert Walter, and others. He appears to have issued a few charters but nothing his contemporary, the chronicler Roger de Hoveden, felt worthy of national note. In The Annals, De Hoveden does record the marriage of Ranulf’s sister Matilda in 1190 to David, the brother of William, King of Scots. Ranulf finally reappears in those chronicles in 1194 when, with his brother-in-law David “and the earl of Ferrers, with a great army, [they] laid siege to Nottingham castle.” Recently released from captivity in Germany, King Richard arrived with more men to deal with the traitors there on 25 March. It is likely Ranulf fought at the king’s side when the outer bailey of the castle was taken by Richard and his men that day.

Nottingham Castle, 2010

Following the castellans’ surrender on the 28th day of March, Ranulf was present as Richard convened the four-day Council of Nottingham. To affirm his control of the realm, the king had been counseled to hold a formal crown-wearing ceremony. Ranulf may have accompanied the king as he made his way to Winchester. On the 17th day of April, the young Earl carried one of three swords from the treasury, standing with the King of Scots and the Earl of Warenne before the king. It must have been quite an honor and privilege.

King Richard turned his attention to the French incursion against his continental lands and left for Normandy in May 1194. Ranulf followed, but unlike the king, he would set foot in England again.

Ranulf should have had a joyful reunion with his wife after months apart. Surely they should be getting about the whole purpose of marriage – siring an heir or two. And Ranulf’s position as a strong supporter of King Richard implied that as Duke of Brittany he would influence Breton solidarity against King Philip of France. But Ranulf’s role as Duke was in name only. Ranulf hardly appears in Breton records and his wife Constance continued to rule, as she had since Geoffrey’s death. Was this due to Ranulf’s young age and inexperience? Apparently, this marriage was not a match made in heaven. Ranulf’s biographer Soden claims the couple loathed each other. He spent virtually no time in Brittany and supposedly was run out of the duchy by Constance’s supporters.

In ten years of marriage the couple had no children together, but by virtue of the marriage Ranulf was stepfather to Constance’s children by Geoffrey. There is no evidence that he was ever close to Eleanor (born 1184) or Arthur (born 1186) not that he was given much opportunity to be a father to them. Constance might have missed an opportunity to have her husband influence King Richard in her favor. Her arranged marriage was not the only chain* tying Brittany to the Angevins: Richard also held Constance’s daughter as a royal hostage to ensure Breton loyalty while he was on crusade. Constance saw very little of her daughter during this time and nine-year-old Eleanor became a political pawn. Richard’s ransom included terms stipulating that Eleanor marry the son of his enemy, Leopold, Duke of Austria. She was on route to Austria in 1194 when word arrived that the duke had died. Eleanor returned to Richard’s custody. Known as the ‘pearl of Brittany’, Eleanor holds a royal record: when her brother was captured by King John, she was held in captivity for 39 years until her death in 1241.

As Richard began his campaign to restore lands King Philip had conquered, Ranulf may have been directly involved in sieges, assaults, and skirmishes. He obviously had other things on his mind: an awful marriage, being thrown out of Brittany, no power to rule as duke. Ranulf’s ego must have been badly bruised. So what’s a young man to do? Kidnap and imprison your wife of course!

Constance had been commanded to meet with King Richard in Normandy. As she crossed the River Couësnon from Brittany into Normandy, Ranulf and his knights waylaid her ducal train. She was ‘escorted’ to St. James de Beuvron, one of Ranulf’s castles east of the Breton border town Pontorson.

Some of the histories claim the scheme to kidnap Constance in March 1196 was hatched between King Richard and Ranulf. Even the Bretons believed this, and we can be assured French propaganda exploited the idea.

Arthur of Brittany

What is fact is that Richard wanted Constance’s son Arthur to be raised at his court and away from French influence. Given the bitter fighting with France, this is understandable. After all, Arthur was a legitimate heir to Richard’s throne.

Was King Richard the instigator? If the Bretons had been so inclined to exchange Arthur for Constance's release, the scheme might have worked. The Bretons responded by swearing fealty to Arthur and allying themselves with France. They hid Arthur until he could be stealthily whisked to King Philip’s court in Paris. In April 1196, Richard attacked Brittany, “not even pausing for Good Friday” per chronicler William the Breton. According to De Hoveden, Richard, “collecting a large army, entered Brittany in a hostile manner, and laid it waste.” In negotiations, Richard agreed to Constance’s release in August 1196, but Ranulf would not comply. The Bretons attacked Richard’s forces in Normandy, and counterattacks in Brittany furthered devastated their forces.

Constance’s two year imprisonment did nothing to endear her to Ranulf. If he had concocted the plot on his own, surely it was the impetuous act of a young, spurned man who wanted to assert his control as her husband and as Duke of Brittany. Was that his intention? Did he want to raise his stature by securing Arthur for King Richard?

Richard recognized the critical importance of having Brittany in his camp in the war against France. He received concessions and allegiance from Brittany in a negotiated peace, but he did not get Arthur.

And Ranulf? Was he merely an agent of King Richard? There appeared to be no repercussions against the young duke. The records for 1196-1198 place him at Château Gaillard, Richard’s massive castle building project on the River Seine. Soden notes that Ranulf provided protection for men and materials being moved upstream for the project.

Château-Gaillard, 2005

Constance eventually was released by Ranulf, but the circumstances are vague. She returned to Brittany and ruled as Arthur’s regent. When King Richard died as a result of a crossbow wound at Chalus in April 1199, Constance turned to France to support her son’s claim to the English crown. King Philip turned the tables on Brittany and recognized John as king. Ranulf joined a council of nobles that August and swore fealty to John.

Constance apparently had sought a divorce from Ranulf on the grounds of consanguinity. At least once source claims that though the Pope had not ruled, she remarried in October 1199 without the king’s permission. (There are some who argue Ranulf had sought the annulment.) Ranulf also remarried in the Fall of 1200. His career and life took serious twists and turns during John’s reign as he fell in and out of favor with the king, but that is a story for another day.

Notes

*Arthur’s betrothal to King Tancred’s daughter was a moot point after Sicily was conquered by the Holy Roman Emperor Henry VI (Richard’s gaoler) in 1194.

Sources

De Hoveden, R. (1853). The Annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn. (Original work published 1201?)

Eales, R. "Ranulf (III) , sixth earl of Chester and first earl of Lincoln (1170–1232)", Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, Oct 2008 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/2716]

Everhard, J.A. (2000). Brittany and the Angevins: Province and Empire, 1158-1203. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Gillingham, J. (2002). Richard I. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Soden, I. (2013). Ranulf de Blondeville: the First English Hero. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Amberley Publishing.

Image Credits

Images are in the public domain unless otherwise noted.

Nottingham Castle gatehouse, which dates back to 1250, not Ranulf's time. Photo taken by the Author in 2010, CC BY-SA.

Château-Gaillard by Urban 2005 CC BY-SA 3.0.

This article was selected as an Editor's Choice and was originally published October 10, 2016.

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Charlene Newcomb is the author of the Battle Scars series, 12th century historical fiction filled with war, political intrigue, and a knightly romance of forbidden love set during the reign of Richard the Lionheart. She is currently working on a new medieval tale set during King John’s reign; and in summer 2020 will publish Echoes of the Storm, a sci fi/space opera filled with rebels and traitors and battles and romance in a galaxy far, far away (no, not Star Wars). Sign up for Char’s Newsletter for exclusives, including a free short story, and other special offers. Find her books on Amazon & connect with Char on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

Richard the Lionheart's Ordeal, October - December 1192

by Charlene Newcomb

A few days before Christmas 1192, Richard the Lionheart, King of England 1189-1199, surrendered to Duke Leopold of Austria in a Vienna suburb. Perhaps best known for his role in the Third Crusade, Richard had set sail from the Holy Land in October 1192 after an unsuccessful campaign to free Jerusalem from the hands of Saladin. Richard's journey home sounds more like fiction than fact. Let me share this incredible story, looking back at events in the Fall of 1192 and other historical background leading up to Richard's capture.

Enemies – Old Rivalries, Hatred, and Politics

To the west, the quickest route to Richard’s realms was via Sicily and Marseille – the route he had sailed in 1190/1191 to the Holy Land. But word reached Richard that he would not find safe harbor in Marseille. Raymond, Count of Toulouse, an old enemy he’d engaged with in border disputes in Aquitaine, planned to seize him there.

There were ports west of Marseille, but Toulouse had conspired with the king of Aragon and Catalonia, cutting Richard’s access to Provence and northern Spain. There were also rumors that Genoese ships had been hired to watch for and intercept Richard. Skirting the north African coast to sail west and through the Straits of Gilbralter into the Atlantic would be far too dangerous. Seafaring men of the 12th century knew the hazards of winter sailing, and the best among them rarely ventured into the Mediterranean after the 1st of November.

Richard weighed his options as he approached Sicily. With the sea routes to the west cut off, his buss, a large galley called the Franche Nef, turned back and sailed into the Adriatic Sea.

Pirates, Privateers, and Shipwreck

The Lionheart abandoned his buss in Corfu and, dependent on which history you read, either: 1) had a run-in with pirates (with whom he ended up bargaining); or 2) hired two privateer galleys for 200 marks. With a small group of trusted companions and the 2 galleys, Richard sailed north from Corfu battered by one storm after another. In early December, the galleys were driven ashore by storms somewhere between Aquileia and Venice.

Overland Routes

Richard now had to consider overland routes, which presented as many hazards as the sea routes. Travel west meant traversing the Kingdom of Italy (ruled by the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI), treacherous passages through the Alps, and the lands of King Philip of France. The northeast route would take the returning crusaders through lands subject to Henry VI, and Leopold, Duke of Austria. In every direction, Richard was faced with enemies or inhospitable terrain.

King Philip was no doubt delighted by Toulouse’s actions. Philip – supposedly Richard’s ally in the Holy Land – had returned to France after Acre surrendered to the Crusaders in July 1191. He had invaded Richard’s lands in Normandy and stirred rebellion amongst Richard’s barons while Richard marched towards Jerusalem. Richard had also jilted Philip’s sister Alys to marry Berengaria of Navarre in 1191.

Henry VI had no love for Richard. His wife Constance had a strong claim to the throne of Sicily following the death of Richard’s brother-in-law William II. But Richard had supported Tancred’s accession there. Henry had also fought against another of Richard’s brothers-in-law, Henry of Saxony. And he was an ally of Duke Leopold of Austria, whom Richard had insulted after the siege of Acre. Highly offended when Richard ordered the removal of his banners, which had been raised above the city walls, Leopold returned to Austria.

Three hundred miles of enemy territory. Could Richard and his 20 companions make for Bohemia, a country whose ruler was no friend of Henry VI? From there, Richard could go to Saxony where his brother-in-law Henry the Lion ruled. Safe passage to an English port on the North Sea would be assured.

Recognizing the higher western range of Alps presented a formidable barrier in the winter, Richard and his companions traveled northeast through the territory of Meinhard II of Gorza, an ally of Henry VI and nephew of Conrad of Montferrat. Montferrat, also cousin to Leopold of Austria, had been a claimant to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem whom Richard did not support. Richard had been accused of arranging his murder in the Holy Land.

Traveling Incognito

Richard had disguised himself as a merchant, but acting the part did not come naturally. His large retinue spent lavishly and attracted the attention of the locals. And Richard’s reputation and looks – 6'5" with reddish-gold hair – set him apart from most men. To keep Henry VI and Leopold off his scent, Richard agreed that the majority of his party would stay behind in the town of Friesach. Eight of his knights were captured, but Richard and two companions, William de l’Etang and a German-speaking boy he had hired, escaped. At one point, they raced almost 150 miles in 3 days. Fifty miles from the safety of the Moravian border, Richard stopped in the Vienna suburb of Erdburg. Ill with fever and exhausted by his ordeals, he was unable to go any further until he rested.

Captured

Unfortunately, the German boy raised suspicions when he went out for food on three successive days. His manner and his dress, which included a fine pair of Richard’s gloves, were reported to Henry VI’s secret police. The boy was questioned. Whether he led soldiers to Richard or told them his location under torture is not clear. And the circumstances of Richard’s seizure are also disputed. Most historians agree he was abed with fever, but gossip that he was caught basting a chicken in the kitchen of Erdburg inn also flourished. A chef wearing a large signet ring would have been highly unusual, but it certainly makes for great fiction!

The contemporary chronicles report that Richard refused to surrender to the soldiers who came for him, and insisted he would give himself up only to Duke Leopold. Leopold imprisoned Richard at Durnstein Castle. Though the Pope had declared safe passage for men who had taken the Cross, that did not deter Richard’s enemies. Philip of France, Henry VI, and Leopold of Austria – their hatred for the King of England must have been intense for them to risk excommunication. Leopold turned Richard over to Henry VI, and reports of machinations between Philip and Henry VI continued over the course of about 13 months. In a letter written shortly after Richard was in Henry VI's hands, Henry writes Philip:

The roads, however, being watched, and guards set on every side, our dearly-beloved cousin Leopold, duke of Austria, captured the king so often mentioned, in an humble house in the vicinity of Vienna. Inasmuch as he [i.e., Richard] is now in our power, and has always done his utmost for your annoyance and disturbance, what we now have above stated we have thought proper to notify to your nobleness, knowing that the same is well pleasing to your kindly affection for us, and will afford most abundant joy to your own feelings.

King Philip also conspired with Richard’s brother John, Count of Mortain and Lord of Ireland, offering Henry VI more silver to keep Richard imprisoned while John secured his hold on England. Eventually, in February 1194, Richard was released for the ransom of 150,000 marks.

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Sources
De Hoveden, R. (1853).  The annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn.

Gillingham, J. (1978). Richard the Lionheart. New York: Times Books.

McLynn, F. (2006). Lionheart and Lackland: King Richard, King John and the wars of conquest. London: Jonathan Cape.

Nicholson, H., & Stubbs, W., trans. (1997). Chronicle of the third crusade : A translation of the itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis ricardi. Aldershot, Hants, England ; Brookfield, Vt.: Ashgate.

Painting of Richard the Lionheart by Merry-Joseph Blondel in Wikimedia Commons. Public Domain.

Map of the Holy Roman Empire is c2014 Dennis Lukowski, commissioned by the author and used with the artist's permission.

A version of this post first appeared on Charlene Newcomb's blog on 20 December 2014. This version  is from the EHFA Archives, published December 23, 2015.
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Charlene Newcomb published Swords of the King (Book III of her Battle Scars series) in 2018. This 12th century historical adventure series is filled with war, political intrigue, and a knightly romance of forbidden love set during the reign of Richard the Lionheart. 

Visit Charlene's website: http://charlenenewcomb.com. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Book links: Amazon

Alice Capet: The Almost-Queen of England

by Lauren Johnson

Philip Augustus and Richard I

Winter 1191. The armies of two mighty Christian kings jostled for space in their encampment on the island of Sicily, en route to the Crusades. Months had passed, and both monarchs and soldiers had grown restless. Everyone awaited the coming spring and conditions safe enough to sail on to the Holy Land. None were more eager to depart than their commanders: the English King Richard; the French King Philip Augustus; and their reluctant host, the diminutive King Tancred of Sicily. Once so close that they had shared bed and board, Richard and Philip’s relationship had become uneasy during their time in Sicily. Rumours had reached Philip that Richard planned to betray a decades-old alliance between their families – a union that would have seen him marry Philip’s sister Alice. Now there were reports that a princess of Navarre was on her way with Richard’s mother, the indomitable Eleanor of Aquitaine, to claim the English king’s hand instead. Philip was incensed. ‘If he does put (Alice) aside and marry another woman,’ he declared, ‘I will be the enemy of him and his so long as I live.’

Richard I

Characteristically, Philip chose to force the issue by manipulative diplomatic means rather than open conflict. He went to Tancred, accusing Richard of plotting to seize Sicily for his own family. When Richard learnt of this he – equally characteristically – forced a confrontation, in which the French king demanded, in a refrain that had become a standard of Anglo-French bargaining over the past ten years, that Richard finally fulfill his promise and marry his sister. It was then that Richard made a shocking accusation.

‘He could never take Philip’s sister as wife,’ he said, ‘for the king of England, his father, had known her, and got a son from her, and to this end Richard could produce witnesses.’

The report was staggering and, for the French king, mortifying. Unwilling for the salacious details of his sister’s scandal to be publicly broadcast by Richard’s witnesses, Philip swiftly signed a treaty that left Richard free to marry whoever he wanted and handed over the right to long-contested border territories in France. In this humiliating concession, the seeds were sown for future discord between Philip and Richard, which would lead to the failure of their crusade and a rebellion in England that almost lost Richard his kingdom.

The disintegration of Richard and Philip’s alliance is a story that has often been retold. But what of the fate of the woman at the heart of this conflict? The princess who had allegedly slept with her fiancé’s father in defiance of years of carefully nurtured diplomatic arrangements? Who was Alice of France? And did she really risk her marriage, and her lands, for lust?

Henry II

Like so many medieval women – even princesses – Alice’s life is an unpicked patchwork where stark political facts sit alongside substantial lacunae of information. She was born in 1159 and betrothed to Richard when both were still in their nurseries. At that time it served the interests of their fathers (Louis VII of France and Henry II of England) to make peace, ending another round of fruitless competition between their territories. Although he was King of the English, Henry II’s realm stretched far beyond the island of Britain. By right of family and conquest, he held vast swathes of what we would now consider western France, while Louis had to be content with a powerbase to the east.

France 1154

Alice’s marriage was thus negotiated from the very beginning as a political alliance for the benefit of others. This was not unusual, and indeed Richard and Alice’s betrothal was mirrored in that of their elder siblings: Prince Henry of England and Margaret of France. However, Richard and Alice’s relationship was in other ways very different. For while Henry and Margaret spent time in one another’s households, had a child and built up a faction together over their many years of marriage, Richard and Alice remained unwed, and were rarely in each other’s company. At the age of fifteen Richard was made duke of Aquitaine in what is now southern France, and was based there until his accession as King of England in 1189. Alice, meanwhile, was kept in a sort of roving dormitory of princesses, travelling with Richard’s mother, Queen Eleanor, and various other royal children – both Eleanor’s own, and the intended fiancées of her sons. In this age of itinerant kingship, when the King of the English was also Duke of Anjou and Normandy (not to mention many other smaller continental territories), Alice’s childhood would have been spent constantly on the move. Eleanor often travelled with her husband and children, even crossing the treacherous English Channel while pregnant in 1157.

During her childhood, Alice was treated as befitted her royal status, but little attention was paid to her by contemporaries. It is not even clear exactly which territories or fortifications made up her dowry, and during the Plantagenet rebellions of the 1170s no chronicler mentions her playing any part. Alice’s status – and her future – changed in 1183, when she was in her early twenties. A feud within the English royal family had escalated into armed rebellion and Alice’s brother-in-law Prince Henry died still fighting his father the King. In the aftermath, the prince’s widow, Alice’s sister Margaret, handed her own dowry over to her little sister in exchange for a pension. Alice now held the right to a vital frontier territory between Normandy and France called the Vexin, making her extremely useful to whichever party had possession of her – a fact that Henry II was all too aware of.

The Vexin

From this moment onwards, Alice’s fate was sealed. As long as she was in Henry’s control, so too was the Vexin. If she married Richard, the King would lose not only his ward but also his land – and to a son whose loyalty was highly suspect, for it often seemed that Richard was closer to the King of France than to his father. Despite almost annual French demands for Alice and Richard’s marriage to take place, Alice remained firmly under Henry’s authority, and decidedly unwed.

It is tempting at first glance to see Henry’s refusal to marry off Alice as proof of the affair, which his son so humiliatingly made public in 1191. However, by 1183 whatever relationship they had had was several years old (perhaps even over), and while he consistently delayed her wedding day, the King proved all too willing to use Alice’s marriage as pragmatically as he used his children’s inheritances. To him they were all pawns in an international game of chess, and only he got to move the pieces. In fact, only one year after Alice took hold of the Vexin, Henry was plotting to transfer her marriage from the faithless Richard to his favourite son, John. Alice’s brother Philip, now King of France in his own right, protested and increased pressure on Henry for the marriage with Richard to take place as soon as possible. Henry repeated his assurance that it would, but made no moves whatsoever. This was a pattern Henry repeated throughout his custody of Alice: in 1177 at the treaty of Ivry; in 1180 at Gisors; at Bonmoulins in 1188. And it was to be a foundless promise Richard himself would repeat as king.

To view Henry’s willingness to barter with Alice’s marriage as evidence against the alleged relationship would be to misunderstand Henry’s character, and to impose sentimentality on a man of undoubted passion, but little romantic sensibility. Even those family members Henry loved best were still viewed by him as bargaining chips or potential rivals. Some panegyrists of the ‘father of common law’ have insisted that Henry would not have ravished his own ward, but his sexual history suggests the opposite. He was a known womaniser who fathered several bastards – and not merely with lowborn women, but with those of high rank too. One of these illegitimate children, William Longspée, was probably the product of an affair with Ida de Tosny, who later married the Earl of Norfok – she received a manor in Oxfordshire ‘for her service’. His was a libidinous court, with prostitutes (meretrices) provided to meet royal needs in both England and Normandy.

So much for Henry. But would Alice really risk her reputation and her future for a king 26 years her senior? To answer this we need to look at the most likely period when their relationship began, when Alice was still in her teens.

In 1176 Henry’s most famous mistress, Rosamund Clifford died (yes, she of the legendary labyrinth, purportedly murdered by Queen Eleanor – all stories written for the first time centuries after her death). In that year, Alice was about seventeen, a perfect age for marriage – and, of course, to arouse the sexual interest of a man like Henry II.

It seems more than coincidental that it was also in 1176 that Henry appealed to the Pope to grant an annulment of his marriage to Eleanor of Aquitaine. Eleanor was then in her mid-fifties, and beyond further child-bearing. Alice, on the other hand, was clearly old enough to have children, and with her royal connections not an unsuitable match for the King.

Further evidence is provided by the sudden arrival of Peter, cardinal of St Chrysogonus, who came from France shortly afterwards with a papal threat: if Henry did not arrange the marriage of Alice and Richard immediately, he would be placed under interdict. This was the worst punishment the Church could hand out, since it meant the removal of all religious rites for Henry’s subjects – no baptisms, marriages or last rites could be given under an interdict. This was a bold step for the King of France and the Pope to take if Henry’s only crime was hesitance. It seems much more likely that they had heard whispers of Henry’s incestuous liaison with his son’s intended. Unsurprisingly, Henry’s requested annulment was not granted. Equally unsurprisingly, no marriage went ahead with Richard either.

Under the circumstances, it is entirely possible that Alice entered a sexual relationship in the belief that Henry’s annulment would be granted and any children accidentally born to them could be legitimated after their subsequent marriage. She is unlikely to have felt much loyalty to the little-known Richard, and diplomatic betrothals made in infancy were often broken in later years. It need not be the case, either, that Alice was an unwilling victim of a sexually voracious king. Sexual desire in young women existed in the twelfth century just as it does today – medieval writers made much of the lechery of females, a convenient cover for both genders’ sexual incontinence. It is entirely believable that, in spite of the risks, Alice was attracted to the powerful and authoritative Henry II – and equally possible that she would act on that sexual interest.

It was her misfortune that whatever intentions or affection Henry may have had for her, the annulment was not granted. And since the King could not allow her to marry Richard – nor, when he had his free will, was Richard inclined to do so – Alice had to remain a virtual prisoner of her inheritance.

During the 1180s Alice’s name appears in royal accounts: some linens for her use here, some furs and scarlet there. Her name was connected to that of Isabel of Gloucester, Prince John’s future wife, so it is likely that she was then back among the other noble females. In spring 1190 she crossed the Channel with Queen Eleanor, curiously, at Richard’s request. By this time Richard was far down the path of arranging his marriage to Berengaria of Navarre, so why did he insist that Alice was with his mother? Perhaps he wanted to keep an eye on her, for she was still politically important as a French princess and as heiress of the Vexin. She was installed in a Normandy castle, and there she was to remain for the next half-decade.

We do not know when she learnt of the revelation of her scandal. Philip was in no hurry to regain control over her, suggesting that he was as angry with her as he was humiliated by Richard. One might imagine that with Richard married to another woman, Alice would be free from Plantagenet intriguing. But during Prince John’s attempted seizure of England in Richard’s absence, Alice’s marriage again reared its head – now John’s marriage to Alice was the price of French support for the rebellion. (This despite the fact John was already married.) With Richard’s return from overseas in 1194, John’s plot was crushed, and Alice’s usefulness as a bargaining chip brought to an end. In 1195, having finally taken guardianship of his sister, King Philip married her off hurriedly to a border lord, the Count of Ponthieu. No doubt Philip had it in mind to annex Ponthieu within his own lands at some later date, using Alice’s claim as his justification. In fact Alice’s daughter Marie succeeded to the county, and then her granddaughter after that.

The bare bones of Alice’s history – and bare bones is all we have – make her seem more like a pinball than a princess, reeling from one potential union and alliance to another: she’ll marry Richard – no John – no Richard again – or is it Henry himself who’ll be her husband? Her claim to key territories seems to have mattered more than her person in the minds of both her French family and Henry’s. She lived with the Plantagenets for over thirty years, yet ended her days not as Queen of England, but as countess of a small county near France. No chronicler recorded the date of her death, or anything of her subsequent life after 1195.

However, Alice’s entanglement with the Plantagenet line did not end there. Alice’s great granddaughter was a princess of Castile, named Eleanor. That princess married a King of England, and their descendants ruled the country for centuries long after Richard, Henry and John were encased in their stone tombs. Alice Capet, the woman who should have been Queen of England, and the focus of decades of political turmoil, eventually found her way into English history.

Brief Bibliography

Christopher Harper-Bill, Nicholas Vincent (eds.), Henry II: New Interpretations (Boydell Press, 2007)
Frank McLynn, Lionheart and Lackland: King Richard, King John and the Wars of Conquest (Jonathan Cape, 2006)
Elizabeth Thomas, The Woman who Should Have Been Queen: Alys Capet and the Angevin Kings, paper presented at the International Medieval Congress (Leeds, 2008)
Bonnie Wheeler and John Carmi Parsons (eds.), Eleanor of Aquitaine: Lord and Lady (Palgrave Macmillan, 2008)

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Lauren Johnson is an author and historian based in London, UK. She is the Research Manager for Past Pleasures, a costumed interpretation company which works daily at heritage sites including the Tower of London and Hampton Court Palace.

Her debut novel, The Arrow of Sherwood is an origin story of Robin Hood, rooting the myth in the brutal, complex reality of the twelfth century. It is published by Pen & Sword Fiction and now available as an eBook.

Lauren is currently working on a history of the year 1509 (when Henry VIII came to the throne), to be published by Head of Zeus in 2016.

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