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Devon Roses

Devon Roses 2019 catalogue number R16

To commemorate the 40th anniversary of the Devon & Cornwall branch of the Richard III Society

Songs recorded from 2015 to 2019 at Rock Lee & Other World Studios

 

The lady singers of the Legendary Ten Seconds:

Elaine Churchward vocals

Jules Jones vocals

Pippa West vocals

Bridgit England vocals

Violet Sheer backing vocal on Wife to the Kingmaker

Fleur Elliott backing vocal on Act of Accord

 

The minstrels of the Legendary Ten Seconds:

Ian Churchward guitars, mandolin, mandola & keyboards

Lord Zarquon keyboards, bass guitar, drums & percussion

Phil Swann mandolin & 12 string acoustic guitar on The Walk of Shame

Ashley Dyer trumpet on Wife to the Kingmaker

Rob Bright lead guitar on How do you Rebury a King

All songs written by Ian Churchward except:
Eleanor Talbot written by Elaine & Ian Churchward and
Less Fortunate Than Fair written by Sandra Heath Wilson & Ian Churchward

 

http://www.thelegendary10seconds.co.uk

 

 

 

1)Fatal Match – a song about the marriage of Henry VI to Margaret of Anjou

2)Charm and Grace – the coronation of Elizabeth Woodville

3)Kings of England – a song about Henry VII’s wife

4)Less Fortunate Than Fair – a song about Cecily of York, the daughter of Edward IV

5)The Duke of York’s Wife – a song about Richard III’s mother

6)Sanctuary – a song about the birth of Edward V

7)The Walk of Shame – a song about Elizabeth Lambert, mistress of Edward IV

8)The Minstrels did Play – Christmas 1484 in the court of King Richard III

9)How do you Rebury a King ( 2018 version ) – about the reburial of Richard III

10)Eleanor Talbot – a very sad song about Eleanor Talbot

11)The Month of May – a song about the events in London in May 1483

12)Act of Accord – a song about the defeat of Richard Duke of York at the battle of Wakefield

13)Her Household Requires – a song about the household of Elizabeth of York

14)I Greet you Well – correspondence between the Duke of Gloucester and his sister Margaret

15)Wife to the Kingmaker – inspired by a novel written by Sandra Heath Wilson

 

FATAL MATCH

 

SHE ARRIVED ON THE COCK JOHN

BLOWN OFF COURSE FOR SO LONG

BATTERED AND BRUISED BY AN ANGRY SEA

CARRIED ASHORE TO HER DESTINY

 

OH PEERS OF ENGLAND THIS FATAL MATCH

FATAL THIS MARRIAGE AND THIS DISPATCH

GRAVE NEWS FOR OUR DUKE IN FRANCE

MAINE AND ANJOU LOST PERCHANCE

 

MARGARET OF ANJOU TO HENRY WED

BY HIS QUEEN HE WAS LED

SUFFOLK’S ADVICE THE QUEEN SOUGHT

SHE LOVED TO HAVE HIM IN HER COURT

 

OH PEERS OF ENGLAND THIS FATAL MATCH

FATAL THIS MARRIAGE AND THIS DISPATCH

THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK WE MUST ACCUS

FOR HIS BAD JUDGEMENT IS GRAVE NEWS

 

Bridgit England lead and harmony vocals

Jules Jones backing vocals

Ian Churchward acoustic guitar

Lord Zarquon bass guitar, keyboards and drums

The True History of King Richard III (Part 1)

Fotheringhay Castle October 1452.


The Duchess of York – aka the Rose of Raby – was not feeling very rose-like. Unsurprising, as she had been pregnant for two whole years. I mean, you know how big some women get after nine months, so after two years she was big. With a capital B. And awkward, and uncomfortable, and all the rest of it. She was also bored with receiving the physicians and midwives who had travelled from all over Christendom to inspect her. Because you see, the word had got around. No one had ever known a woman be pregnant for two years before. Some thought it impossible. But here she was.

It was all the more amazing in that Thomas of York – who had sadly died – had been born in either 1450 or 1451. No one could quite remember when, not even the Duchess. But somehow this other baby had remained in her womb and continued to grow. Eventually a particularly learned physician – a Saracen with a beard and a crescent on his robes – suggested that maybe this new child was a sort of twin who had somehow been retained. However, he admitted he had not seen anything like it, not even in Damascus.

The Duchess was beyond caring. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the labour eventually began. And it went on a long, long time. It was lucky that the Saracen doctor was handy, as they ended up having to cut poor Duchess Cecily open, and usually when they did this in those days the mother was already dead. And if not she soon would be. But so skilled was the doctor that not only did Cecily live, she survived until she was quite old. What’s more, her husband was even able to persuade her to have another child, a daughter called Ursula, who only stayed in the womb for the usual nine months. What marvellous chaps these Saracen physicians were!

Anyway, to return to the baby of 2nd October 1452 – he had a full set of hair and a full set of teeth. And the women crowded round the bed, who were all capable of foreseeing the future, said that he was going to bite the world. And when the Countess of Warwick – who was there in her role as amateur midwife – opened the baby’s fist, she found that he was clutching a little silver dagger, which he’d be using to stab his mother for the past two years. No wonder she’d had such an uncomfortable pregnancy!

So they took him along to the big church next to the castle, and baptised him with the name of Richard. This was his father’s name, and they chose it because he looked just like the Duke of York, which none of the other children did, as they took after their mother’s side, the big blond Nevilles. Because of course no Plantagenet had ever been big, or blond, in all the years since 1154. York was a bit shorter than most Nevilles and had darkish hair.

Naturally, he peed in the font. The baby that is, not the Duke of York. Luckily the Duke was the patron of the church, so none of the priests made a big fuss. Instead they went off to the castle in procession and had a big feast, with boars’ heads and stuff. And people threw bones over their shoulders and spat on the floor.

The Duchess had hers on a tray, as she was still a bit sore.

(Reblogged from Greyhounds and Fetterlocks)

Remembrance of a Wedding

Remembrance of a Wedding

In the sleepy village of Stanford in the Vale, now in Oxfordshire, but formerly within the boundaries of Berkshire, stands one of the lesser known Ricardian sites.
Stanford, like most English villages, is an ancient place. A corpse-path runs over the village green, and part of a cell once owned by Abington Abbey still exists, built into a later farm building still known as Abbey Farm. A Roman villa once stood close by, lost somewhere in now-grassy fields. However other secrets lie half-hidden in this rural setting, memories of a marriage long lost in time…
Looming over the quiet streets with their clusters of attractive cottages, is the tall grey spire of the parish church, which has a rather unusual dedication to St Denys. The church itself, although suffering some Victorian restoration, has a 12th century Nave, a 14th c south porch, and a 15th century spire and other additions. It also has an unusual reliquary that may have once held the finger bone of a Saint, lent to the church by the monks of nearby Abington Abbey.
However, it is the south porch, often missed by visitors, being on the far side of the church and not generally open for entry (the interior was used for storage when I visited!) , that is of greatest interest, for it is unique in the country.
Little exists to commemorate King Richard in the way of period architecture or decoration, barring the boar carvings and chancel arch head at Barnard Castle, several boars in Carlisle castle, and a boar pendant on the effigy of a supporter who was buried in Norbury Church. Even less commemorates Anne, who was Queen for such a short time before her death in 1485.
Here, in this unassuming Oxfordshire village, seemingly far from the doings of the great and good during the Wars of the Roses, there is a structure that commemorates both Richard and Anne. The south porch of St Denys was built in the 1470’s in honour of their marriage.
Stanford had been part of the Beauchamp inheritance, through Anne’s mother the Countess of Warwick. In 1484 Anne, as Queen, granted it in free alms to ‘Andrew Doket the president, and the fellows of the royal college of St. Margaret and St. Bernard within the University of Cambridge, which was of her foundation’.
Why this special attachment to this particular village and why the commemorative porch? Of course, the locals will tell you that Anne was very fond of her manor at Stanford, and that she and Richard were actually married in St Denys’church, hence the porch being added in their honour.
As with so many things about Richard’s life, the place where he married Anne is uncertain, although many say it was probably in Stephen’s Chapel at Westminster.
Could the marriage have been at Stanford instead? Less likely, but could the young couple possibly have visited the manor and church on their way north, and the building work undertaken to celebrate the brief, happy stay of the newlywed Duke and Duchess of Gloucester?
The south porch itself is sadly, today, in poor repair. It has an embattled roof, lined with shield plaques; the inner vault was apparently never completed. Above the door, the arms of York, the fetterlock and rose, impale the Ragged Staff of Warwick. Over the years the stonework has grown very soft and crumbly, flaking to an alarming powder even to a casual touch. As time goes by, the insignias grow fainter and fainter, less distinguishable. English Heritage has been notified and has spoken about restoration and conservation work being done in the future.
We can only hope that the uniqueness of this structure will be recognised and proper preservation given to these rare carvings commemorating the marriage of a highborn couple who, at that time in their lives, never would have imagined they would one day be crowned King and Queen of England.

stanford

Postscript: After Richard’s death at Bosworth, the lands of Anne Neville’s mother, Anne Beauchamp, Countess of Warwick were briefly returned to her by Henry Tudor, including Stanford in the Vale. She immediately ‘granted’ all of them to him and his heirs male….

Edward IV – no pussycat!

I find it – interesting, shall we say – that some people are so keen to hate Richard III that they tend to play down the fact that his brother, Edward IV, was at least as ruthless, if not more so. This does no service to Edward, who in some narratives seems to be a virtual cipher in the hands of Evil Richard. Edward was no man’s puppet, as a certain Earl of Warwick discovered to his cost.

Some examples of Edward IV’s ruthlessness:

Dragging the Lancastrian leaders out of the sanctuary of Tewkesbury Abbey and having them beheaded. (Oh, sorry, that was Richard, wasn’t it? Edward wanted to let them off with a warning.)

Murdering the anointed king, Henry VI, who was a harmless simpleton. (Oh, sorry, that was Richard again wasn’t it? Silly me. Edward was planning to send Henry to a comfortable retirement home in Bognor Regis.)

Pinching various families lands for the benefit of his own family. (Oh, there I go again! It was Richard who wanted the Countess of Warwick’s land split between Clarence and himself, and I’m sure that, for nefarious reasons of his own, he was behind the grabbing of the Holland (Exeter) and Mowbray inheritances as well, even though these benefited the Woodvilles.) By the way, the last King of England before Edward to do significant land grabs was Richard II, and he gets torn to bits about it by historians.

Throwing the Duke of Exeter overboard. (Though it was probably either an accident or done by Richard.)

Murdering his own brother, Clarence. (Oh sorry, it was either a lawful execution and/or Richard did it anyway.)

Do you see a theme here? Whenever Edward does something ‘bad’, there’s always someone who pops up and puts at least some of the blame on Richard. One is tempted to misquote Charles II. ‘My words are my own, but my deeds are Richard’s.’

Anyway, here is one ruthless deed that no one has pinned on Richard yet. According to Speed, a citizen of Chepe was hanged for treason in Edward’s reign for saying he would make his son heir to the Crown. (He meant the Crown public house, but Edward wasn’t laughing.) Of course, this is an obvious lie. The execution must surely date from 1483-1485 as that sweet fellow Edward would never have done such a thing.

A question of responsibility

Who takes the ultimate responsibility for events in late Medieval England?

According to the Cairo-dwellers, from 1483 to August 1485, the answer is the King (Richard III), whether he knew what happened or not.

According to the same people, the answer from 1471 to 1483 isn’t the King (Edward IV) but the Duke of Gloucester (the same Richard), his brother who was ten years younger.Not so many of them still blame Richard for committing war crimes at the first Battle of St. Alban’s (1455, between nappy changes) but some do.

They expect us to believe that, when Edward declared the Countess of Warwick legally dead to keep the Duke of Clarence happy, that was Richard’s responsibility. Similarly, when Edward declared the Dowager Countess of Oxford legally dead to stop her funding her traitor son, that was Richard’s responsibility as well. That Richard, as Constable, passed and oversaw the sentences of death after Tewkesbury against Edward’s will – even though we know what Edward could do to a brother who stepped out of line continually and we know that this was Richard’s first serious campaign. That Richard was responsible for Clarence’s end, although he is on the record as protesting against it and going on strike for the day of the execution. That Richard had to be responsible for Henry VI’s end even though it was improbable that he could benefit from it – Edward had a very fertile “wife” at the time and the secret wasn’t known for another twelve years, quite apart from Clarence – and he was away from the Tower on the day. That Richard had to be responsible for Edward of Lancaster’s death, even though Clarence is specifically accused by contemporaries and instantly became the Lancastrian claimant, at least in his own eyes.

So Edward IV was King for over twenty years and so feeble that he wasn’t responsible for anything? On the contrary, we know how ruthlessly he had dealt with rebels during his first reign, appointing the Earl of Worcester (John Tiptoft) as Constable, knowing the zeal with which he would approach the task, only for the Lancastrian readeption to result in Tiptoft’s beheading. We know how he dealt with the Duchess of Norfolk’s servants to silence her after the death of her sister (his valid wife). We know how he dealt with the Earl of Desmond’s sons and we know he eventually dealt with Clarence, arresting Stillington at about the same time.

We can conclude that Edward IV was no fool. He could look after himself, could delegate tasks to people who would take his approach and could take responsibility for their actions in his lifetime. He did not reprimand Richard for his conduct as Constable nor did he deal with him as he had Clarence but designated him as Lord Protector of the Realm in his codicil, as the Council all agreed, also allowing him to remain as  Constable. We can only conclude that he trusted Richard on the basis of twelve years’  loyal support and more before the Clarence-Warwick revolt.

So what is the problem with the denialists here?

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