“I saw two strange things in my time, though widely different. I was sitting at dinner, in the city of Bordeaux, when King Richard was born; it was on a Wednesday, on the point of ten o’clock.
“At that hour Sir Richard de Pontchardon, then Marshal of Aquitaine, came to me and said—‘Froissart, write, that it may be remembered, my lady the princess is brought to bed of a fine son. He is born on Twelfth-day, the son of a king’s son, and shall be king himself.’ The gallant knight foretold the truth, for he was King of England twenty-two years; but he did not see what was to be the conclusion of his life.
“When King Richard was born, his father was in Galicia, which Don Pedro had given him to conquer. A curious thing happened upon my first going to England, which I have much thought of since. I was in the service of Queen Philippa, and when she accompanied King Edward and the royal family to take leave of the Prince of Wales at Berkhampstead, on their departure for Aquitaine, I heard an ancient knight, in conversation with some ladies, say, ‘We have a book called Brut, that declares neither the Prince of Wales, Dukes of Clarence, York, nor Gloucester, will be kings of England, but the descendants of the Duke of Lancaster.’ Now I, the author of this history, say that, considering all things, these two knights, Sir Richard de Pontchardon and Sir Bartholomew Burghersh, in what they said, were both in the right; for all the world saw Richard reign for twenty-two years in England, and the crown then fell to the house of Lancaster.
“King Henry would never have been king, on the conditions you have heard, if his cousin Richard had treated him in the friendly manner he ought to have done. The Londoners took his part for the wrongs the King had done him and his children, whom they much compassioned.”
“When the funeral car of King Richard had remained in Cheapside two hours, it was conducted forward, in the same order as before, out of town. The four knights then mounted their horses, which were waiting for them, and continued their journey with the body until they reached a village, where there is a royal mansion, called Langley, thirty-six miles from London. There King Richard was interred: God pardon his sins, and have mercy on his soul.”[25]
The book called Brut, alluded to by Froissart, is the romance of Brut, by Robert Wall.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] In a few impressions of the plate this is erroneously spelt Montadour.
[2] Johnes’ translation.
[3] “Of Sir Peter de Craon, and how he incurred the indignation of the King of France and the Duke of Touraine, his brother, and how he was received by the Duke of Brittany.” Chap. XXV.