Chapter 11: The College of Arms

London 10th September 1831
As well as being responsible for the granting of new coats of arms, the College of Arms maintains registers of arms, pedigrees, genealogies, Royal Licences, changes of name, and flags, and advises on all matters relating to the peerage and baronetage, precedence, honours and ceremonial.
My previous visit to the building had been when tracking down the owner of a coat of arms seen on the black coach that attempted to run me down at Wallers in 1819. The coach had belonged to the late unlamented Sigismund Metzendorf.

A functionary, with the peculiar sobriquet of Bluemantle Pursuivant, dressed in the clothing of the 15th century and wearing a tabard bearing the blazoned insignia of his rank, took me down to the basement and opened a door into a huge room.
“This is the parchment room,” he said, indicating the rolled parchments filling the spacious room, stacked to the ceiling on racks.
“Now that is a surprise,” I said, “as I thought it was the refectory.”
My response indicated my boredom and displeasure of being stuck deep in the musty basement of the College of Arms rather than being stuck deep in the delectable body of Mimi – but duty is duty, and I stifled my ire.
Bluemantle looked at me in astonishment. “Oh no, Sir Elijah, the refectory is on the second floor.”
He either was being equally facetious as I, or had no grasp of irony.

Bluemantle searched through the racks of parchment rolls until unearthing the one he sought.It was a large roll – at least twice the diameter of the other scrolls I could see. From the basement parchment room we ascended a flight of stairs into the viewing room, the sole piece of furniture in the rom being a table which I estimated to be at least a chain long, or the length of a cricket pitch for those who are unfamiliar with the chain measurement.
He unrolled the parchment scroll, which covered the length of the table, and was pointing out coats of arms of the great English families when we were interrupted by another individual, also dressed in a tabard and the medieval garb favoured by these modern heralds.

“Hullo,” I said, in as cheery a manner I could muster. “Are you another herald, come to help Mister Bluemantle?”
The man’s face went a dangerous shade of puce, and his glare could have drilled a hole in plate armour.
“I am not a herald; I am Garter King of Arms, the most senior officer of the College of Arms. And Bluemantle Pursuivant is not a herald either, he is a Pursuivant.”
“My most sincere apologies, King Garter, but what is the difference between a herald and a ... oh never mind. Why am I here?”
Garter King of Arms gave me another withering look. “I am beginning to wonder that myself.” He turned to Bluemantle.
“Give this gentleman a swift dissertation of the succession to the throne of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, in the simplest manner possible.”
Bluemantle face showed surprise and distaste at the task set him, but he nodded. “I shall try and make this understandable even to a lay person like yourself, Sir Elijah, but even so I hope you paid close attention to your history master when you were at school.”
He did not say it aloud but I could practically hear him thinking to himself
‘if you were ever at a school.’

History, as taught at The King’s School, was predominantly about battles won by the English against the Scots, the Spanish, and the French, and battles won by the British against the French. The War between King and Parliament, and the Cousins’ War, were skimmed over as the convoluted reasons for those conflicts, and the shifting alliances, were difficult to follow. It was much simpler to learn how the enemies of our country were defeated on the battlefield than to delve into the politics and disputes between the English that caused such fratricide.

Bluemantle walked to the far end of the table to the beginning of the scroll, and pointed at the name at the beginning of the Succession to the Throne of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
“King Arthur,” he announced.
I laughed. “A myth, a figment of imagination. Does anyone really believe there was ever a King Arthur, and Knights of the Round Table, and Camelot, and the search for...”
Bluemantle interrupted me.
“It is all the fault of Asser, Bishop Asser. He had a line of succession drawn showing Alfred as a direct descendant of King Arthur, or at least to the person who has come down to us in history as King Arthur.That person would have been a Romano-British War Leader, trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back the advance of the Saxons, the West Saxons.”
I peered at the names between King Arthur and Alfred the Great, and noted many were of Celtic-British origin. Cynrics, Cynons, and Bryns were interlaced with Saxon Cerdics, Elfweards, and Egberths. I supposed the Gallic names were males of mixed parentage, Saxon male and British female.
“So, according to this scroll Arthur was the first King of Britain, and by connecting Alfred to him as a direct descendant confirms Alfred as the legal and logical choice as King of Britain,” I said.
Bluemantle actually smiled, pleased to see I was not the stupid oaf he had first thought me.
“Exactly. Asser was constructing a legend. Alfred, as the direct descendant of King Arthur, was the legal King of Britain, even if most of the country was then in the hands of Northmen.”

He paused, his finger over the name of Edward the Confessor.
“This gentleman was the first King of Anglo-Saxon England not to have produced an heir, not even any illegitimate children. Edward spent so much time on his knees praying for salvation that he neglected the most important part of a Monarch’s duty, which is to beget heirs. Unfortunately he was not the last king of this realm to be so negligent in the duty.”
I could see why Bluemantle was less than pleased with Edward the Confessor. Due to the lack of progeny England was invaded by the Normans, and the Anglo-Saxon kingdom overthrown.
“Yes, Harold was the last of the Anglo-Saxon kings, and England has been ruled by foreigners ever since ten sixty-six.” I said.
Bluemantle shook his head. “Harold Godwinson was part Danish.”
He perused me for a moment. “I note you are typically Anglo Saxon in colouring and physique, but where in England were you born?”
At my reply ‘Lincolnshire, he gave a self-satisfied nod.
“As I suspected. Your ancestors lived in the Danelaw, which means you too will have a measure of Danish blood in your veins, as do most of us English. Harold could in fact be called the first and last English King.”

“Do get on with it Bluemantle,” Garter King said, his voice sharp. “In an hour’s time I have a deputation from the Worshipful Company of Plumbers. They wish to have their coat of arms and motto registered with the College.”
“No doubt their motto will be ‘Après le deluge, moi’, “ I said, rather pleased with my bon mot.
I received another armour-piercing glare from Garter King at my attempted levity, and Bluemantle, unabashed at my ‘wit’, continued with his discourse, muttering information as his index finger traced down the scroll, most of which I did not fully hear or understand.

“We start with William the Bastard, who by all accounts lived up to his name, and his son William Rufus, whose life was ended by a quarrel,” he said with a smirk across his face
Bluemantle spent no time discussing the time of The Anarchy, when Stephen and Matilda contested the throne, which eventually ended in the more than capable hands of Henry II, the first of the Plantagenets.
Bluemantle moved his finger down the list of Plantagenet kings, stopping when he reached John.
“John Lackland, the man who lost his crown jewels in the Wash,” he said, chuckling at his wit.
He was about to continue when I said, “But he did give England the Magna Carta.”
Bluemantle snorted in derision. “He was forced to sign the charter, practically at sword point, and then revoked all of the clauses as soon as he was able.”
He continued tracing his finger down the scroll; to Henry III, and then over the three Edwards, pausing at Edward II to announce.
“Unsurprisingly, he died when a red hot poker was forced up his fundament.”

Bluemantle shook his head sadly when he again paused, this time at Richard II. “He was the weak grandson of a powerful King, Edward the Third, and a weak son of a mighty prince, Edward the Black Prince. Richard’s Granfer, Edward the Third,. had smashed the French at Crecy and his Pa, the Black Prince, thrashed them again at Poitiers. Richard, like Edward the Confessor, spent too much time on his knees and not enough time procreating. He allowed the territorial gains made by his father and grandfather in France to be regained by the French, and was not in control of his country. Given bad advice he not only exiled Henry Bolingbroke but also confiscated his lands. Bolingbroke returned to England and forced Richard to abdicate, confining him in Pontefract Castle until starvation took him from this vale of tears. We can date the start of the Cousins’ War to when Henry Bolingbroke became Henry the Fourth.”

His finger traced down the scroll until reaching Henry VI.
“Another example of a weak son of a strong father. Henry the Sixth was also unfortunate in having a domineering French mother, to be replaced later by an equally domineering French wife. Henry was another monarch who spent more time in church than in the marriage bed, although he did eventually father an heir. However by then the Cousins’ War, or the War of the Roses as it is known to the hoi polloi, had engulfed the nation.”
Bluemantle’s finger next stopped at Richard III,
“This is where the first maladroit that concerns us occurs.”
“Maladroit?” I said.
“It is a term used in the College of Arms to describe a change in the succession brought about by improper methods.” He pursed his lips. “When I say ‘improper methods’ I refer to actions or laws not sanctioned by a previous ruler but justified by the current ruler. Henry Tudor, who claimed the throne through his mother’s family the Beauforts, usurped Richard the Third, the last of the Plantagenet Kings. However, the Beauforts were an illegitimate line descended from John of Gaunt, third son of Edward the Third, and Royal bastards cannot claim the throne.”
“Remember that the Beauforts were legitimised by Richard the Second, Bluemantle,” Garter King interjected
“Phshw! Children born out of wedlock are bastards. How can that be altered, even by the decree of a king?” Bluemantle said, his face red with anger.
“In any case Henry the Fourth declared the Beaufort line could not make any future claims to the throne. Therefore, legitimate or not, Henry Tudor’s claim to the throne was unlawful.”
“You were ever a Yorkist, Bluemantle,” said Garter King.
“And you a Lancastrian,” replied Bluemantle.
“Aye, and it was we who prevailed in fourteen eighty five,” Garter said with a measure of pride.
The two glared at each with such malice I feared the War of the Roses was about to resume, but both then drew breaths and returned to the present.