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  The position of members of Katherine’s household in England soon became precarious. Just five months after her marriage to Prince Arthur at St Paul’s Cathedral, he was dead. The widowed Katherine became a pawn in the game of diplomacy played out by the rulers of Europe, and her household suffered. As Henry and Ferdinand squabbled over her dowry, Katherine was forced to sell or pawn some of her possessions to feed herself and her household. In 1506, she complained that she had only been able to buy two new dresses since her arrival in England five years earlier. After arriving to replace the unsatisfactory ambassador González De Puebla in 1508, Don Gutierre Gómez de Fuensalida reported to the Spanish King that ‘never was such cruelty inflicted on a captive in the lands of the Moors as the princess is subjected to here’.49 His choice of simile is striking. Certainly, in these years, Katherine was hardly in a position to employ a trumpeter, and so, if he had not already done so, this would have been the time for John Blanke to transfer to the royal household.

  Although the consensus is that John Blanke arrived in England with Katherine of Aragon, there is another possibility. On 15 January 1506, Katherine’s sister Juana of Castile and her husband Philip the Handsome were shipwrecked on the Dorset coast while en route to Spain from the Netherlands to claim the throne of Castile following the death of Queen Isabella. This left the royal couple in the hands of Henry VII, who detained them until April while he wrung various political concessions from Philip.50 Two musicians arrived at the Tudor court in this way; a minstrel named Bartram Brewer and a lute and viol player named Matthew de Weldre, so it is not unthinkable that Blanke also came via the Burgundian court.51

  In April 1509 Henry VII died. John Blanke, and the other court servants, were issued with new black outfits for the funeral.52 They followed the cortège over two days as it proceeded from Richmond to St Paul’s Cathedral then onwards to Westminster Abbey, where the first Tudor king was laid to rest beside his queen, Elizabeth of York, who had died in childbirth in 1503. The trumpeters passed through the City of London, behind the sword bearer and vice-chamberlain of London, the Masters of the Bridge House and the King’s messengers. After the trumpeters came the ‘Florentines, Venetians, Portingals, Spaniards, Frenchmen, and Easterlings’.53 They were near the front of a very long line of dignitaries, gentlemen and courtiers. The streets of London were packed with onlookers, with representatives of all the City Guilds and Companies prominent among them.54 John Blanke was at the centre of a great royal spectacle.

  A few weeks later, this time sporting a scarlet livery, John Blanke played at the joint coronation of Henry VIII and his new Queen, Katherine.55 Scarlet cloth was reserved for the higher-ranking royal servants, those at the level of yeoman usher and above, while yeomen, grooms and pages wore red. Ideas about the fabric and colour of clothes reflecting status had existed since at least 46 BCE, when Julius Caesar restricted the use of the colour purple. England’s first sumptuary law appeared during the reign of Edward III, and two hundred years later Henry VIII was also keen to regulate dress, passing four ‘Acts of Apparel’ between 1510 and 1533.56 John Blanke was given 4½ yards of scarlet, above the average gift of 3 yards, which he presumably used to make a gown and a hood.

  The coronation ceremonies stretched over three days. On Friday, Henry held vigil at the Tower of London, on Saturday the court proceeded from the Tower to the Palace of Westminster and on Sunday, which was Midsummer’s Day, the royal couple walked from the palace to Westminster Abbey to be crowned. There followed a grand banquet where ‘at the bringing of the first course, the trumpets blew up’ and a tournament, where ‘the trumpets blew to the field the fresh young gallants’.57

  Henry VIII was still a teenager when he came to the throne, and his youth and vigour brought a new atmosphere of gaiety and exuberance to court life. The early years of his reign were filled with festivities, tournaments, banquets, ‘disguisings’, dancing and other revelry. In January 1510, he and eleven nobles, disguised as Robin Hood and his men, burst into the Queen’s chamber where they danced and ‘made pastime’ with Katherine and her ladies. In February, during the Shrovetide celebrations, he and the Earl of Essex appeared dressed ‘after the Turkey fashion’ with torchbearers dressed ‘like Moriscos, their faces black’. Some of the ladies dressed as Egyptians, their faces, necks, arms and hands painted black so that they ‘seemed to be nygrost [negroes] or blacke Mores’.58 The services of his trumpet players were in constant demand. In the first year of his reign, Henry increased the number of royal trumpeters to fifteen.59

  The King loved music. He employed more than fifty musicians, and he himself played the organ, the lute, the virginal and the recorder. He even enjoyed sight-reading songs with his courtiers. The Venetian ambassadors heard the King play and sing for them when they visited in May 1517. Henry was also an amateur composer. Although there is no evidence that he wrote ‘Greensleeves’, he did write other songs, such as ‘Pastime with good company’, ‘Helas Madame’, motets and masses.60 An inventory compiled towards the end of his reign shows that he owned an unusually large variety of richly decorated musical instruments. His court supported musicians and poets including Skelton, Wyatt, Robert Fairfax, William Cornish, John Heywood and the Earl of Surrey.61 Music-making at court was such that, while visiting Thomas More in 1509, the Dutch theologian Erasmus remarked that ‘the English challenge the prerogative of having the most handsome women, of being the most accomplished in the skill of music, and of keeping the best tables’.

  Henry was not above recruiting from abroad to ensure he had the best musicians around him. In 1516 he poached Dionysius Memo, formerly the organist at San Marco in Venice, who became a firm favourite, not least in the eyes of the young Princess Mary. The Venetian ambassador reported that he ‘played... to the incredible admiration and pleasure of everybody, and especially of his Majesty, who is extremely skilled in Music’. Another organist, Benedictus de Opitiis, arrived from Antwerp the same year. Not all foreign musicians found favour, however. Zuan da Leze, a harpsichordist from Cyprus, was so disappointed with his reception at court in 1525 that he hanged himself.62

  The start of a new reign was a time of fluctuating fortunes. For some, like the unpopular royal councillors Richard Empson and Edmund Dudley, it signalled a trip to the Tower and, ultimately, death. For others, it was an opportunity for swift promotion. One of Blanke’s fellow trumpeters, the Italian Dominic Justinian, had recently died, and Blanke took the chance to petition the new King for a pay rise.63 The petition survives amongst a pile of similar documents from the early years of Henry’s reign. Although it was written by a clerk and is somewhat formulaic, it is the closest we get to hearing John Blanke’s own voice echoing through the centuries:

  To the King, our sovereign Lord,

  In most humble wise beseecheth your highness, your true and faithful servant John Bla[n]ke, one of your trumpets. That whereas his wage now and as yet is not sufficient to maintain and keep him to do your Grace like service as other your trumpets do. It may therefore please your highness in consideration of the true & faithful service which your servant daily doeth unto your Grace and so during his life intendeth to do, to give and grant unto him the same room [position] of Trumpet which Dominic deceased late had, to have and enjoy the said room to your said servant from the first day of December last passed during your most gracious pleasure, with the wage of 16d by the day. And that this bill signed with your most gracious hand may be sufficient warrant and discharge unto John Heron treasurer of your Chamber for the payment of the said wage accordingly. And he shall daily pray to God for the preservation of your most noble and royal estate long to endure.64

  Reading between stock phrases such as ‘true and faithful servant’, the petition shows that Blanke was ambitious and keen to grasp the opportunity for promotion that the death of his fellow trumpeter provided. There also seems to be some rivalry with the other trumpeters: he wants to live in the same style as his peers and claims that his previous wage of 8d a day was insufficient f
or this. As we know, he was not the only trumpeter paid at this rate. John de Cecil was paid the same in 1502, and other trumpeters were still being hired at the rate of 8d a day in the 1540s. Many of the payments to trumpeters were made to them as a group, so it is not possible to be sure how much each individual received. If the payments were split equally, then the main group of trumpeters were each receiving 16d a day. However, from December 1509 to July 1512, a group of four to six additional trumpeters were each being paid at a rate of 12d a day.65 So wages varied, depending on experience, skill or length of service. On this basis, having been at court for at least two years, Blanke could justify a rise.

  What did Blanke want, or need, that 8d a day would not cover? Like other court servants, he had his livery, board and lodging paid for by the King. However, when the court travelled, servants often had to pay for their own accommodation and transport. In 1518, the poet William Cornish made ‘a merry supplication unto the King’s grace for a bucket of hay and a horse loft’ in which to lodge while the court was at Abingdon. Like Cornish, Blanke may also have been responsible for keeping his own horse, which might cost him some five shillings a week.66 Perhaps Blanke wanted to buy more expensive clothing; like actors, minstrels were exempted from the Acts of Apparel that forbade people to wear clothes above their station.67

  The phrase that suggests that the King’s signature will suffice to grant the rise was standard for these petitions and was designed to minimise the amount of time and effort required from the King in response. Blanke’s petition obviously hit the right note, as his request was granted. It was clearly not too much to ask from a musical king who was hiring new instrumentalists. The trumpeter’s wage had doubled.

  * * *

  On New Year’s Day, 1511, word spread around Richmond Palace that Katherine of Aragon had given birth to a prince. Thanks were given to God for providing England with a male heir, bonfires were lit and free wine was distributed to ‘such as would take thereof, in certain streets in London’.68 But John Blanke and his fellow trumpeters couldn’t spend too much time celebrating; they were soon hard at work. The arrival of a male heir to the throne required a series of official ceremonies and festivities in which their services would be vital.

  At his baptism on 5 January, the boy was named Henry, like his father and grandfather. Louis XII of France and Margaret of Savoy were named as godparents, alongside William Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey and Katherine, Countess of Devon, one of the younger daughters of Edward IV. The ceremony was attended by ambassadors from the Pope, France, Spain and Venice, who afterwards visited and congratulated the Queen before writing dispatches to their sovereigns.69

  The same day, a letter arrived, purportedly from the Queen Noble Renown of the realm of Coeur Noble. News of the birth gave her ‘the most Joye and comfort’ and in honour of the young prince’s arrival, she would send four Challengers from her kingdom to ‘accomplish certain feats of Arms’. They would take on all comers at Candlemas next. The letter, known as the Westminster Challenge, was typical of the allegorical, romantic documents that were produced at this time to announce a forthcoming jousting event.70

  The Westminster Tournament was held in February. The two days of jousting, pageantry and merry-making were particularly onerous for the King’s trumpeters, who were called upon to sound fanfares, retreats and more from dawn till dusk. They were amply rewarded for their labours, receiving ten times their usual day’s pay for their services.

  Henry, ‘being lusty, young, and courageous, greatly delighted in feats of chivalry’, and particularly favoured jousts, where he could parade his sporting prowess.71 Taking part in this violent competition was dangerous: King Henri II of France was fatally injured during a tournament in 1559 and Henry VIII himself suffered some nasty blows later in his jousting career, notably on one occasion in 1524, when he forgot to lower his visor. As well as showcasing the King’s virility and bravery, the military spectacle broadcast loud and clear the message that England was a power to be reckoned with. The Westminster Tournament of February 1511 was by far the most splendid of these events. The Great Chronicle of London concluded that the two-day event was the most ‘excelling joust’ England had ever seen.72 The King cut a resplendent figure in his rich costume, but the cost of the festivities exceeded all others in living memory.

  The entire event, carefully accounted for by Richard Gibson, Master of the Revels, cost nearly £4,400.73 This was a staggering amount; almost two hundred times John Blanke’s annual wage. Ostensibly a celebration of the birth of a prince, the Tournament was part of a larger agenda. Just as nations today use major sporting events such as the Olympics or the World Cup as promotional vehicles, Henry saw this tournament as an opportunity to make his mark on the European scene. It was designed to match, even excel, the most extravagant displays from the time of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, or René d’Anjou. The tilting yard outside Westminster Hall, located roughly where Parliament Square is today, was transformed into a scene from a chivalric romance. The magnificent display would be reported to Europe’s rulers by their ambassadors at the English court. The new King was, quite simply, buying European prestige.

  On Wednesday 12 February, John Blanke rose early, donned his royal livery of yellow and grey and carefully wound his green and gold turban around his head.74 He and the other trumpeters were going to have to work hard. The tournament was to begin with an elaborate ceremonial entry, and each arrival would require a fanfare from the fifteen trumpets. They would also play after the announcement of the rules, as a signal to the combatants to begin and again to announce the victory.

  John Blanke was accustomed to court ceremonial and pageantry. But even he, a seasoned performer, would have been impressed when a great castle, made of gold paper, appeared before the crowds. An artificial forest, 26 feet long and 16 feet broad, built of hawthorn, oak, hazel, maple, birch, fern, broom and fir, enveloped the castle. The whole wheeled edifice was drawn into the tiltyard by a golden lion and a silver antelope, led by four ‘wild men’ in green silk. Like beauty queens in a modern-day carnival procession, ladies dressed in russet and blue damask rode each of these fantastic beasts, while perched high on the castle’s ramparts, a maiden dressed in blue satin fashioned a garland of rosemary and other herbs for the Queen.

  The trumpets sounded as each of the four costumed Challengers from the realm of Coeur Noble issued from the castle: Sir William Courtenay as Bon Valour, Sir Edward Neville as Joyous Penser, Sir Thomas Knyvet as Valiant Desire and finally the King himself as Coeur Loyal. Henry’s choice of alias may seem unsuitable in light of his later marital history but it was entirely fitting in the optimistic early years of his reign.

  Next, a dozen Answerers to the four knights’ Challenge entered, to the accompaniment of trumpets and drums. Presided over by Thomas Wriothesley, the Garter King of Arms, both Challengers and Answerers signed their names on the Tournament Challenge in black ink. The Challenge was then hung in one of the artificial trees. This ritual, celebrated in the chivalric literature of the troubadours, followed the ceremonial of jousts traditional since the thirteenth century.75

  The lords and ladies of the court looked on eagerly from the crowded stands as the jousts began. The Queen had the best seat in the house, or rather the best bed. Six weeks after giving birth, she was made comfortable on a large ornate couch, on a dais hung with cloth of gold.

  There was no rest for the trumpeters. Each new champion entering the lists required a fanfare to announce his arrival. As Chaucer’s Knight put it in his tale to the Canterbury pilgrims:

  Now the loud trumpets, and the clarion

  Ring out; and on the east side and the west

  In go the spears, couched firm for the attack,

  In go the spurs, sharp in the horse’s side.

  We’ll soon see who can joust, and who can ride!76

  Over two days, each of the four Challengers faced multiple opponents. The King himself entered the lists twen
ty-eight times. One chronicler recalls the ‘lusty leaping, bouncing and mounting and flinging of the jolly and lusty four riders’.77

  The second day brought further ceremonial, as there were new contenders to announce. Charles Brandon, the King’s favourite jousting partner, arrived disguised as a hermit imprisoned in a tower, a ‘long and full-grown beard reaching down to his saddle bow’. Led into the arena by a gaoler holding a large key, he petitioned the Queen for the right to joust. On receiving her blessing, he ‘cast from him hastily his clothing, beard and hat, and showed himself in bright harness . . . smote his horse with the spurs and rode a lusty pace unto the tilt’s end’. Other Answerers also came in disguise: Sir Thomas Boleyn and Henry Guildford, Marquess of Dorset, arrived as pilgrims from Santiago de Compostela, their black velvet costumes decorated with gold scallop shells.78