How well do you know your Henrys? There was the large, bearded one who had six wives and treated them badly. That was, of course, Henry No 8. The seventh? The first Tudor king, whose army killed Richard III in battle. Sixth? I’m guessing a few blank looks, now we’re heading back into the mistier parts of time. Fifth? Ah, wait, I hear you say, I know that one – Agincourt!
Yes, Henry V is famous for winning a spectacular, almost miraculous, victory over the French at Agincourt in the far north of their country in 1415. But what more do we know? The subtitle of Dan Jones’ new book is The Astonishing Rise of England’s Greatest Warrior King, and the author sets out to convince us that Henry V deserves that label.
Jones is a historian, writer, broadcaster and champion of popular history. In this latest, highly accessible biography, he brings us the bigger picture, understanding that for today’s reader explaining how brilliant someone was at war isn’t enough. We’re more interested in the person behind the legend, their contradictions, their motivations; we want more of the why, less of the how and when. We like to interpret their actions both in the context of the times and through the lens of modern sensibilities. (But if you do want to learn how Henry V kept on winning, again and again, that’s all here, too.)
Jones suggests that Henry’s reputation is distorted; that historians have focused too narrowly on Agincourt (properly, Azincourt), and not enough on his early life. He therefore devotes about half of the book to Henry’s formative years, before he became king aged 26.
The young Henry, Prince of Wales, is usually portrayed as a drinking, womanising party animal (one 15th-century account described him as “an assiduous cultivator of lasciviousness … a fervent soldier of Venus as well as Mars”) who, on his ascent to the throne, underwent a dramatic character transformation.
Although Shakespeare bought into this narrative, Jones does say that “of all Henry’s biographers, it is only Shakespeare … who ever truly grasped that to understand Henry we must understand Hal [the young Henry] in equal measure … In truth, Henry’s newfound seriousness does not require a wholesale changing of his ways, for gravity, religiosity and intensity of focus are already essential parts of his character.”
Jones tells Henry’s tale in the present tense: “Henry rides. He fights. He prays. He plans. He rules … We are jolted out of our comfortable place in the distant future, and must wrestle with the world in real time, with him.” The device works – the book is a wild ride that sweeps you along and won’t let you get off.
It opens with 16-year-old Henry fighting rebel forces at the Battle of Shrewsbury. An arrow hits him in the face, and the arrowhead remains embedded in his cheekbone. The royal physician operates, devising an implement that can safely remove the arrowhead. He then applies honey and herbs to combat infection. This medieval miracle worker saves the prince’s life.
Henry would have seen the hand of God in this – the lord clearly had plans for him, which were: deal with the rebels at home; become King of France; go on a crusade to conquer Jerusalem. He would achieve one and a half of those goals.
Henry’s wound would have left a disfiguring scar, and this explains why the most famous portrait of him shows him in profile. Jones describes Henry as “lean, athletic and handsome [with] … straight brown hair, which matches his dark eyes … His neck is long and slender, his cheeks are clean shaven and his lips are crimson.” (These details are most certainly as important as his talent for laying siege to French garrisons.)
In 1413, Henry IV died after a prolonged illness, and our prince became King Henry V. He had served a long apprenticeship, sitting on the royal council and dealing with ongoing rebellions. Now, with the Scots, Irish and Welsh mostly under control, he wasted no time setting sail for France.
As for his reasons, it’s useful to remember that (sadly) nothing unites a country like a war with another country, and so we come to Agincourt. And what a gripping tale it is – the build-up, through the Siege of Harfleur and the progress of the exhausted, starving, ailing army on to Agincourt where, against a far superior force … you know the rest.
Henry’s military successes are well documented, but what about his life off the battlefield? The author describes him as “a king who did more than any other to bring England back from the brink of economic torpor, poisonous political faction and scorn on the European stage”. A talented politician and diplomat, then. And he was “… creative, artistic and literary, with a bookish temperament and a talent for playing the harp”. The king would take musical instruments and piles of books on his campaigns: “Henry’s tastes are eclectic, but one thing he has learned … is that he enjoys, and perhaps even needs, relief from the long, boring, unsanitary business of marching and siegecraft.”
The treaty that finally ended this war was signed in 1420, and under its terms, Henry married the French king’s daughter and was named heir to the French throne. Charles IV was 53 and Henry was 35, so he expected to accede, but it wasn’t to be. Henry died of dysentery only two months before Charles did.
Henry and Catherine de Valois had one child, Henry VI, who did succeed to the thrones of both France and England – the only monarch ever to do so. But young Henry grew up hating and avoiding war, and England lost most of the lands his father had fought so hard to win.
Does this biography back up the “greatest-ever medieval warrior king” label? By the standards of the time, yes. Most enjoyable was learning about the complexities of Henry’s character. I picture the English king camped outside a besieged town, playing his harp against a backing track of explosions, the hiss of arrows flying through the air, the pitiful cries of starving women and children who have been expelled from the citadel to save on food – Henry has decreed they shall not be allowed to pass. It’s a contradictory picture that perhaps sums up this man.
HENRY V: The Astonishing Rise of England’s Greatest Warrior King, by Dan Jones (Bloomsbury, $39), is out now.
