The history of any book's ownership, its passage from person to person, from place to place, is largely one that has to be reconstructed, not from the evidence contained within the material form of the work itself, but chiefly by reference to external documents. There may, of course, be signs of ownership within the book, annotations, coats of arms, signatures or shelf marks, but these do not invariably appear and often do not occur at all; where they do exist they are not always identifiable and are hence of limited evidential value. Insofar as any book may have a developed provenance record that can be securely traced it is likely to be a record of the details of its commercial history, a record of who paid what for it where, when, and to whom; such a record must be largely retrieved from details in inventories, sales catalogues, and dealers' files.

Recovering such details is fraught with difficulties. It requires considerable skill and a fair bit of luck to establish what a book actually sold for at any point in its history. A published price at auction (the most common means of establishing value) is now likely to be based not just on the actual “hammer price,” that price at which it was actually sold at the conclusion of bidding, but on this figure together with the various buyers' and vendors' premiums that are also charged.

Scholarship in Anglo-Iberian relations developed during the second half of the twentieth and first decade of the twenty-first century to such an extent that few readers would subscribe today to the often quoted statement made in 1906 by the eminent hispanophile James Fitzmaurice-Kelly about the “almost complete insulation of each country with regard to one another” in the Middle Ages, or his other affirmation that “the first step to sustained intellectual commerce” started at the end of the fifteenth century, in allusion to the thirteen Fables of Alfonce (by the Aragonese Jewish convert, Pedro Alfonso, or Petrus Alphonsus) which were included in the 1483 edition of Caxton's Aesop. María Bullón-Fernández, among others, has also drawn our attention to this fact. Two historians in the 1950s had indeed opened the ground for new views in relation to the fourteenth century: the Spanish medievalist Luis Suárez Fernández and the Oxford scholar Peter E. Russell, although in more recent years the current interest in Al-Andalus as a decisive factor in the conformation of Europe and European culture has yielded books such as those by Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, Simon R. Doubleday and David Coleman, Sharon Kinoshita, Lisa Lampert-Weissig, or, some decades earlier, one by Alice E. Lasater.

My purpose in this chapter is not to focus on this latter sort of exploration, but rather to look back again on the particular historical, political, and dynastic conditions that linked England to Iberia during the fourteenth century, a period when writers such as John Gower, Geoffrey Chaucer, and Canciller Pero López de Ayala lived and composed their best known works.

Venus's dismissal of John Gower at the end of the Confessio Amantis ostensibly represents the end of his dual career as a lover and an author. Freed from his “trance” (CA VIII.2813) and shocked into recognition by the mirror rendering an accurate “liknesse of miselve” (CA VIII.2437), the poet receives a rosary of black beads with the gold inscription “Por reposer” (CA VIII.2907) and a new commission, to seek and pray for peace. This scene is echoed in the Confessio's explicit, literally the final words, in which the poet's book is sent to find lasting repose under the earl of Derby: sub eo requiesce futurus. Other elements of the poem, however, belie this sense of closure. Venus directs Gower not just to erotic and poetic retirement but to his own works: “But go ther vertu moral duelleth, | where ben thi bokes, as men telleth, | Which of long time thou has write” (CA VIII.2925–27). His literary destination is the Mirour de l'Omme and the Vox Clamantis, works that treat ethics, have found an audience influential enough to be proverbial (“as men telleth”), and were written “of long time” – both in the authoritative past and through a long process of composition and conceptual development.

It can be demonstrated that John Gower's Cronica tripertita (1400) was based on the state-official account of the tyranny of the English king Henry IV: the parliamentary “Record and Process” of the deposition of Richard II and his replacement on the throne by his cousin in 1399. Evidently, Gower was given or obtained a copy of the official account of the usurpation, and he turned it into poetry in the form of the Cronica tripertita, which then circulated as another apology for the nascent Lancastrian regime, propaganda-wise. Other evidence indicates, however, that Gower's work was not innovatory in this respect. In earlier decades of the fourteenth century, other poets were employed by other, earlier English regimes in the production of verse propaganda, basing their work too on state-supplied sources of information.

A precedent-setting episode, occurring early in Gower's career, of which he may have been aware, involved the English invasion of Castile in 1367. The events of the campaign and its culminating battle at Nájera on 3 April 1367 – when a combined Anglo-Gascon-Castilian force led by the English prince Edward (1330–76), the Black Prince, and his brother John (1340–99), duke of Lancaster, defeated the Franco-Castilian array of Enrique de Trastámara (1334–79), a bastard, and restored Enrique's half-brother Pedro (1334–69) to the kingship of Castile and León, though only briefly – are well understood from high-quality Continental sources, especially the history of Pero López de Ayala (1332–1407), the Livy translator, who was a participant in the battle, and that of Jean Froissart (c. 1337–c. 1405), who was not.