One more Leonor – a 14th C queen

Recently, I listened to a pod about a Byzantine princess (oops! Eastern roman princess) called Teophanu who was sent off to wed the future Holy Roman Emperor as a teenager. She would never see her home country again—a fate she had in common with many other women of royal birth, who often found themselves wed so as to further the interests of their homeland. I imagine these young women were prepared for their future role, but it cannot have been easy to be sent off like that. I have previously written about Eudokia Komnene, who travelled from Constantinople assuming she was to wed an Aragonese prince but instead ended up wed to Guillaume, Lord of Montpellier.

Enough with the Byzantine princesses—today’s post is about a Castilian Infanta, yet another Leonor. I swear, Castilian history is chockfull of Leonors, Alfonsos, Isabels and Sanchos! It does not, however, have a lot of Enriques. Enrique I was a young boy who died after having a roof tile land on his head back in the early thirteenth century, and then there was quite a gap before the next Enrique, Leonor’s father, took centre stage. But as of 1369, Enrique II had his backside firmly planted on the Castilian throne (not for all that long – the man was destined to die ten years later) and accordingly his surviving legitimate daughter, Leonor, was elevated to princess and marital prize.

Winning the throne by murdering your half-brother came with—or so I suppose—a desire to consolidate the power of the new dynasty.  The Trastámara family was to prove successful in their efforts to hold on to the crown—albeit there was a lot of internal scuffling for power some generations down the line. But when little Leonor was growing up, the Trastámara family was a united force, with Enrique and his surviving brothers ensuring they had Castile firmly under control.

Leonor was named after her grandmother, Leonor de Guzmán, who was Alfonso XI lifelong mistress. She gave him many sons, he never looked at any other women (except for when he did his duty and impregnated his wife). Enrique had a somewhat more roving eye, with a baker’s dozen of recognised bastards mentioned in his will. What Enrique’s wife, Juana Manuel thought of all that we do not know. . .

Today’s protagonist was born in 1360 and had spent her childhood years more or less constantly on the move as the ebb and flow of the civil war between her father and his half-brother Pedro had her family either feeling somewhat victorious or fleeing for their life. But in 1369, things took a turn for the better—or so Leonor likely thought—and a couple of years later, her father initiated discussions with potential future grooms.

One such potential groom was Fernando of Portugal. A marriage with him would heal the years of discord between Portugal and Castile (Fernando had had the temerity of claiming the Castilian throne after Pedro was murdered) and initially, Fernando agreed. Except, some months later it became common knowledge that Fernando had secretly wed another Leonor—Leonor Teles de Meneses (who was already married elsewhere. Very complicated, this)  The Portuguese king would come to regret his choice of bride, but by then our Leonor was wed elsewhere.

With the Portuguese alliance dead on the ground due to Fernando’s grand passion, Enrique looked elsewhere. Castile had a turbulent relationship with Navarra—no wonder, given that the king of Navarra, Charles II, was a nasty piece of work who tricked, betrayed, stole, well, in short did everything to increase his power. However, with enemies in every corner, Charles II was willing to consider a treaty with Castile. As always, the treaty was sealed with a wedding between Charles heir, yet another Charles, and Leonor.

The wedding took place in 1375 in Soria. Leonor was fifteen, her groom a year younger. Maybe it was his young age that led to Eleanor remaining with her father in Castile while young Charles spent most of his time traipsing about in France as his father’s emissary. Now and then, Charles visited his wife in Castile, but in 1378 he was arrested by the French king Charles V (who was also his uncle). The French king stripped the Evreux family of all their French fiefs—made Charles’s daddy choke on his rage, I imagine—and subjected his young nephew to several interrogations. At some point, our captive groom let spill that his father intended to backstab the king of  Castile by invading parts of his realm. The French king immediately sent word to Enrique of Castile who effectively turned the tables on Charles of Navarra by invading Navarra and forcing Charles II to sign the humiliating treaty of Briones in which Charles II (who always played as many sides of the field as he could) swore to break all ties with England.

Phew! A lot of drama there, right? And our Charles was still locked up for unknown reasons, but Leonor came to the rescue, urging her brother Juan I, (Enrique had passed)to put pressure on the French king. Finally, in 1381 Charles was released and hastened back to Castile. I imagine he had no desire to confront his father. Instead, he found solace in the welcoming arms of his wife, and in 1382 Leonor and her hubby welcomed a little girl, Juana, to the world.

Over the coming years, the couple resided primarily in Castile, in the lands Leonor had inherited from her father. But in 1387, Charles II died, and Charles III rode north to claim his kingdom, accompanied by his wife and their four daughter. As yet no sons, but Leonor was not yet thirty and evidently fertile, so this was not a major concern.

But. Something happened in Pamplona, Charles III’s capital. From being all lovey-dovey, the Leonor-Charles marriage suddenly seemed to be on the rocks, and already in 1388, Leonor requested permission to return to Castile with her daughters. She claimed “reasons of health”, but  some say she found the Navarra court to be exceedingly dull and longed for the glitter and glamour of the Castilian court. Others say she was less than well-received by some members of the Navarra nobility, and that Leonor actually feared for her life, believing there was a plot afoot to poison her. The third theory is that she arrived in Pamplona to find her husband’s four mistresses and six bastards in residence, and when he wouldn’t throw them out, she was so angry she upped and left. Primarily, this was because of Lancelot (I know! An IRL Lancelot!) who was about two and, according to Leonor, a threat to her daughters’ inheritance what with him being a boy.

Now, we do know that Lancelot was living at court with his mother, but some years later, he was being raised elsewhere and his mother had retired to a convent to pursue an ecclesiastic career. Maybe this was Charles attempting to clean house so as to get his wife to return to him, but if so, initially it did not work.

By 1392, Charles was becoming desperate—he wanted his queen by his side, plus he needed a male heir. Hard to achieve that when your wife chose to live elsewhere. But Leonor was happy in Castile, especially after her brother Juan died, leaving a minor, Enrique III, as his heir. Leonor spread her political wings and dabbled in a lot of intrigue together with her half-brother, Fadrique. At some point, it seems she was even considering supporting Fadrique in a bid for the throne, but by then little Enrique had turned all of thirteen and was to prove quite the adversary. Among other things, he had Fadrique thrown in jail, besieged Leonor in her castle, and when Charles III yet again requested she return to Navarra, Leonor had no choice: her nephew told her to go, ASAP, and never darken his door again.

And so, in 1395/95, Leonor returned to Navarra. A year or so later, she gave birth to a daughter, and a year after that came the desired son. In between babies, Leonor and Charles worked together to safeguard their realm, and Leonor was often entrusted with managing things when Charles was out and about.

In 1402, Leonor gave birth to another son, but little Luis did not live long, and to add to her grief, her five-year-old Charles also died that year. But there were daughters to marry, and soon enough Charles and Leonor were negotiating marriages right left and centre. The eldest, Juana, was wed to the Count of Foix, with the expectation that she would one day become queen of Navarra. The second daughter died in 1406, the third daughter, Blanca, was first wed to Martin of Sicily and, subsequently, to Juan II of Aragon. She would also become Queen of Navarra as Juana died without heirs, and in the fullness of time, Charles’ and Leonor’s granddaughter, also named Blanca, would become Blanca II of Navarra. Not the happiest of lives, that . . .

Having successfully wed their daughters, Charles and Leonor seemed to have enjoyed some years of harmony and peace before Leonor died in 1415. Or 1416—there is a confusion as to when exactly she died. We do, however, know that she was buried in the Cathedral of Pamplona, where ten years later she would be joined by her hubby, Charles III.