The Tragedy of King Richard 111 (not by William Shakespeare)

     Part 8 – “Rumour it abroad…”

 

“ I, from the orient to the drooping west,

Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold

The acts commenced on this ball of earth;

Upon my tongues continual slanders ride;

The which in every language I pronounce

Stuffing the ears of men with false reports…

And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe

Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures:

And of so easy and so plain a stop,

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,

Can play upon it”

(William Shakespeare)[1]

If William Shakespeare had any deficiencies as a historian, he surely compensated  for them with his dramatic and often beautiful insights into human behaviour. He knew full well that rumour was a nasty, insidious thing. It is dangerous to those who spread it and to its victims, but it is even more dangerous to those who believe it. Rumour sows the seed of doubt, fear and discord wherever it appears, which is precisely why it is such powerful social, political or military weapon in the hands of unscrupulous people.

In the early autumn of 1483 “a rumour arose” in southern England “that king Edward’s sons, by some unknown manner of violent destruction, had met their fate.”[2] This was a particularly damaging rumour, since ultimately it bought low the York dynasty and destroyed the last Plantagenet king’s life and reputation. The accusation that king Richard III murdered the princes in the Tower has its genesis in this rumour and the historical narrative of his life and reign is dominated by it. Beginning after Bosworth, professional historians and academics have consistently and briskly dismissed any attempt to defend Richard or to cast doubt on the veracity or probity of the material used against him. That he was a usurper, a regicide and an infanticide is now an established fact for most of the establishment of professional historians and scholars. It is a position based partly on their natural caution and dislike of revisionist history, partly on their trust of the sources and partly on their belief that Richard’s contemporaries thought he was guilty.

Professor Charles Ross speaks best for this traditional narrative of Richard’s life and reign in his biography of Richard. He begins the chapter on the fate of the princes by quoting the great English statesman (and no mean historian in Ross’ opinion) Winston Churchill ” … no fact stands forth more unchallengeable than that the overwhelming majority of the nation was convinced that Richard had used his power as protector to usurp the crown and that the princes disappeared in the Tower. It will take many ingenious books to raise this issue to the dignity of a historical controversy”[3]. So convinced is professor Ross of Richard’s guilt that he doesn’t think it would even be necessary to commit pen to paper were it not for the many ‘ingenious books’ written on the subject over the centuries[4]. I make no pretense that this essay is ingenious, and it is certainly not scholarly. It merely asks just the sort of silly question that an untrained, unqualified and disinterested observer might think was important: how can we be so certain king Richard was guilty of this crime if all we have is a rumour? For the avoidance of doubt, I should add that it is not my intention in this piece to explore the deeper issues concerning the actual fate of the boys: were they murdered, and if so by whom? Or did they escape to survive king Richard? I am interested only in the provenance and impact on English history of the Crowland rumour.

Expressions of concern for the fate of the boys can be found in the extant private papers, manuscripts and chronicles of the times. And certainly some writers were quick to point their accusing finger at king Richard. However, there is no extant eyewitness testimony; by and large the material we do have reports rumour and not events. The story begins with Mancini: “ I have seen many men burst forth in tears and lamentations when mention is made of him [Edward V] after his removal from men’s sight; and already there is suspicion that he had been done away with. Whether, however, he has been done away with, and by what manner of death, so far I have not at all discovered.”[5] Mancini does not vouch for the accuracy of the suspicions; neither does he mention any fears for the safety Richard duke of York, the king’s brother and heir presumptive. Since he is describing what he saw for himself, he must be referring to a time before he returned to France in July 1483. I think he is describing the fear and uncertainty in London following Hastings’ execution and the arrest of Morton, Rotherham et al. George Cely expresses similar concerns.[6] The absence of a direct domestic accusation against Richard is notable. In fact, the only allegations against Richard in his lifetime are foreign. Casper Weinreich writing in Germany in 1483 believes that Richard murdered the princes, as does Guillaume de Rochefort in France in January 1484. I think it is fair to say that both these sources (and others) can be traced to the Lancastrian rebels then exiled in France.[7] They are in fact a regurgitation of the Crowland rumour, to which I now turn.

Our main source of information for events during the summer and autumn of 1483 is the Second Continuation of the Crowland Chronicle. Its importance is threefold: it fixes the start of rumour in time, in place and in context. The anonymous author (who, by the way, was no friend to king Richard) wrote: “…the two sons of king Edward remained in the Tower of London with specially appointed guards.[8] In order to release them from such captivity people of the south and the west of the kingdom began to murmur greatly to form assemblies and to organise associations to this end”[9] And later: “When at last the people around the city of London and in Kent, Essex, Sussex, Hampshire, Dorset, Devon, Somerset, Wiltshire and Berkshire and in some other southern counties of the kingdom, just referred to, began considering vengeance, public proclamation having been made that Henry, duke of Buckingham, then living in Brecknock in Wales, being repentant of what had been done would be captain-in-chief in this affair a rumour arose that king Edward’s sons, by some unknown manner of violent destruction, had met their fate.[10] “ What we learn from this is that the rumour began in the early autumn of 1483, in southern England and after the duke of Buckingham had joined the plot to restore Edward V[11].

The impact was almost immediate. Crowland continues: “…For this reason all those who had begun this agitation, realizing that if they could not find someone new at their head for their conquest it would soon be all over for them, remembered Henry, earl of Richmond who had already spent many years in exile in Brittany. A message was sent to him by the duke of Richmond on the advice of the lord [bishop] of Ely (i.e. John Morton), his prisoner at Brecknock, inviting him to hasten into the kingdom of England to take Elizabeth, the dead kings elder daughter, to wife and with her, at the same time, possession of the whole kingdom.”   The affect of the rumour was to subvert the insurrection from its original purpose of restoring Edward V, to one aimed at putting a Lancastrian pretender on the throne. This traditional narrative raises two important questions that deserve greater attention: who started the rumour and why?

I will come straight to the point. It has been suggested by Sir James Gairdner that the rebels started the rumour deliberately as political propaganda against the king.[12] If so, it means that on the 24 September 1483 when Buckingham invited Henry Tudor to come and take possession of the realm, he must have known beyond doubt that the boys were dead. If not, Henry had absolutely no title to the crown and was unlikely to be supported by the southern (Yorkist) malcontents. Gairdner believes that as the rumour was not reported until the verge of the revolt, Buckingham was probably keeping a guilty secret. Either he knew the boys were dead or he was lying. Of course, this doesn’t exculpate king Richard since Buckingham might have joined the rebellion genuinely in the belief that Richard had murdered his nephews. Nonetheless, his behaviour does cast doubt over the rebels’ intentions. Furthermore if Buckingham knew, it is inconceivable that Margaret Beaufort and John Morton did not also know the boys’ fates[13].

When the king left London on the 19 July 1483 on his royal progress, he left behind a web of Lancastrian and Woodville treachery that would have done justice to any Italian renaissance court. At its centre was Margaret Beaufort: self-styled countess of Richmond and mother of the Lancastrian adventurer Henry Tudor.   The ultimate victim of this treason was to be king Richard III, whose downfall she planned using Elizabeth Woodville and Henry Stafford as her unsuspecting tools. Margaret’s purpose was simple. One day her darling boy would rule England. The key to Tudor ambition was Buckingham’s defection to their camp. We can only speculate as to his reasons: remorse (Crowland), greed (Vergil) and ambition (More) are all possibilities, which fortunately, I need not trouble with in this essay. Buckingham’s motive is immaterial for my purpose; what matters to me are his actions. It is difficult to unravel the sequence of events as we are reliant on two Tudor histories (by Thomas More and Polydor Vergil respectively) both of which were written more than two decades after these events and neither of which has much (if any) value as historical evidence. Nonetheless, we have to do our best to reconstruct a plausible narrative with the material we have.

The king met Buckingham for the last time on the 2 August 1483 at Gloucester[14]. Nobody knows what they talked about but we do know that this meeting marked the end of their collaboration. The king continued his royal progress northwards to the heartland of his support. Buckingham continued his journey west to the Stafford family seat in South Wales. He arrived at Brecon on the 9 or 10 of August 1483;[15] waiting for him there was the ubiquitous John Morton: incorrigible Lancastrian intriguer and king Richard’s mortal enemy. In Thomas More’s view Morton (“a clever man”) turned the credulous Buckingham’s head by the simple stratagem of flattery; he suggested that Buckingham would probably make a better king than Richard. Sadly, More’s narrative breaks off just as it is getting interesting[16].

Vergil gives a more detailed account of the Morton-Buckingham plot. According to him, Morton was cautious and did not respond immediately to Buckingham’s treacherous talk. It was only when Buckingham produced his master plan for uniting the red and white roses by bringing Henry Tudor over from Brittany to marry Edward IV’s eldest daughter that Morton took control of the situation. Within a fortnight (around the 21 August 1483) he had informed Margaret Beaufort of the recruitment of Buckingham and welcomed Reginald Bray to Brecon. Bray was sent by Margaret to act as a go-between and to convey her instructions on the next steps. By the 26 or 27 August Bray was back in London, where Henry Tudor’s marriage to Elizabeth of York was already settled[17]. Henry, in Brittany, was informed by the end of the month of Buckingham’s recruitment and the plan for his proposed royal marriage.

It seems inconceivable to me that Elizabeth Woodville would consent to this marriage if she thought it would disinherit her two sons. She might have consented because she believed her sons were already dead. Equally, she might have simply believed that a royal marriage was the Tudor’s price for supporting Edward V’s restoration. Duke Francis of Brittany was sponsoring Henry and he could provide a powerful force of ships and soldiers to support the deposition of king Richard. By the ‘first weeks of September’ the duke had kitted out a force of fifteen ships and five thousand soldiers for the Tudor descent on England.[18] By giving duke Francis the benefit of the doubt, we can say that he might have believed he was supporting the restoration of Edward V and was buoyed by the news from England. However, the duke feared a French invasion of his Duchy and about this time had sent his envoy to England to blackmail king Richard into providing men and money for the defence of Brittany; otherwise, he said he could not guarantee that Henry Tudor would not fall into French hands. It seems that the Bretons and also the French regarded Henry as a pawn to be used in the furtherance of their foreign policy aims against England[19].

The implication of this conspiracy is obvious. If Margaret Beaufort’s son was to succeed to the throne, it could only be over the dead bodies of Edward V and his brother Richard duke of York[20]. The rumour that the boys were dead was a masterstroke for the Tudors. It didn’t matter for their purposes whether they were dead or alive. All that mattered was that people believed that king Richard had killed them and that the rumour spread doubt and mistrust in England. It would keep king Richard on the back foot and prevent him consolidating his reign. Professor Ross holds that the boys alive were dangerous to Richard as they would provide a rallying point for rebellion. If they were indeed dead or were simply not produced to scotch the rumours, it would confirm Richard as their murderer in peoples’ minds. Ross is right when he writes that Richard was placed in an almost impossible predicament: damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

I do not propose to enter the debate about what happened to the princes because that is a mystery. Nothing that I have referred to herein or have read or seen proves that the boys were even dead, much less that they were murdered. All we know with certainty is that they disappeared during the summer of 1483. Sir James Gairdner’s rhetorical question is illuminating: “ What could have induced Richard to time his cruel policy so ill, and to arrange it so badly? The order for the destruction of the children could have been much more easily and safely and secretly executed when he was in London than when he was in Gloucester or Warwick (or in York for that matter [21]. It’s a good question because it highlights a weakness in the case against Richard: the inherent improbability that he would have botched it so badly. There was no benefit to him in killing the boys and keeping it a secret. In fact, it would produce the worst of all worlds. The ruthless tyrant of Tudor tradition would have arranged for the boys to die tragically of natural causes. Their bodies would be displayed without a mark on them and with reverence, for all to see that they were dead. This could not of itself prevent Tudor conspiracies but it would have made it harder for them to depose Richard. Alternatively, he could simply have blamed Buckingham once he was captured. It is right that Richard should bear some vicarious responsibility for the death of his nephews. However, he could minimize this by arguing that the deed was done without his knowledge after he had left on his progress, and he that he had placed his trust in Buckingham.   Given the chance to consolidate his reign, his culpability in not protecting his nephews sufficiently would not have mattered[22].

Ultimately, I believe it was this rumour that undid king Richard III. His accession was not decidedly unpopular with nobles or the general the population: at least initially . Only some of the old Yorkist establishment and Lancastrian opportunists were opposed to him, and I think he could have defeated them. Things went wrong for the king after the rumour of his nephew’s deaths was spread.   He was never quite able to recover his equilibrium thereafter.

[1] PH Davies – Henry IV, Part 2 (Penguin 1979) at page 51, with the editors note at pages 164-167

[2] Nicholas Pronay and John Cox (editors)–The Crowland Chronicle continuations 1459-1486 (Richard III and Yorkist History Trust 1986) at page 163.

[3] Winston Churchill – A History of the English-Speaking Peoples (1956) Vol 1 at pages 383-384

[4] Charles Ross – Richard III (Yale 1999) at page 96.

[5] Dominic Mancini – The Usurpation of King Richard III (CAJ Armstrong, editor) (Oxford 1969 ed) at page 93 and editors note 91, pages 127-128. Mancini returned to France shortly after Richard’s coronation on 6 July 1483. He did not write his narrative for his sponsor Angelo Cato, until December 1483. He had plenty of time to catch-up with events in London from the Lancastrian rebels in France.

[6] H E Malden (editor) – The Cely Papers (Camden Society, 3^rd Series, 1980) at pages 132 and 133. See also Michael Hicks – Richard III (Tempus 2000 revised edition) at page 115 for a modern language translation. This is a handwritten note by George Cely based on information he got from Sir John Weston. The note reflects the uncertainty in London after Hastings’ execution. Interestingly, Cely’ has concerns for the king (“…if the king, God save his life, were to die…) and the Lord Protector (‘[if] the duke of Gloucester were in peril”). As Hicks correctly points out, Cely did not blame Richard for the uncertainty of June1483.

[7] Josephine Wilkinson – The Princes in the Tower (Amberley 2013) at pages 129-152. Wilkinson analyses the provenance of these and later accusations against king Richard.

[8] See Rosemary Horrox and PW Hammond – British Library Harleian Manuscript 433 (R3S 1979) 4 Volumes, Volume 2, at pages 2 and 211. This is a contemporary household account showing the final payment to the Princes’ own servants. Its existence indicates that the chronicler is referring to a time after the 18 July 1483, when king Richard’s men replaced the princes’ servants.

[9] See Pronay and Cox at page 163. See also Riley’s translation for a comparison between early Victorian and late twentieth century Latin-English usage. In addition to Crowland’s statement that there was a plot to liberate the sons of Edward IV from the Tower, we have a Privy Seal Warrant from king Richard to John Russell, his Chancellor (PRO, C81/1392/1).   This warrant was written whilst Richard was at Minster Lovell on the 29 July 1483. The original was exhibited at the NPG in 1973 and is transcribed at page 98 of the exhibition brochure. The king had learned that “…certain persons as such as of late had taken upon themselves the fact of an enterprise as we doubt not you have heard, are attached and in ward…” Russell was instructed to place the matter before the king’s council for them to appoint somebody to sit in judgment on the criminals “…and to proceed to the execution of our laws in that behalf.“ Although we do not have a trial record, the antiquarian John Stow (The Annals, or General Chronicle of England (1615) at page 460) names those involved, adding that they were condemned and publicly beheaded on Tower Hill. There appears to have been a second Lancastrian plot to gain control of the boys in August 1483 (see Annette Carson – Richard III; the maligned king (History Press 2013 edition) at pages 152-156 for a discussion of these incidents).

[10] Crowland, ibid; it is illuminating to compare John Cox’s translation of the original Latin with Henry Riley’s 1854 translation, especially this passage: “…a rumour was spread that the sons of king Edward before named had died a violent death, but it was uncertain how.” This early Victorian translation creates a more explicit impression that the rumour was deliberate than does Cox’s modern translation.

[11] My best guess is that the rumour ‘arose’ in about mid-September 1483.

[12] Sir James Gairdner – History of the Life and Reign of Richard the Third (Longman Green 1878) at pages 169-170.

[13] It would be wrong to completely ignore the possibility that the boys were murdered, with or without Richard’s knowledge. Buckingham might have joined the rebels from remorse or he might have been trying to further his own ambition as a potential monarch in ‘leaking’ this damaging information. Personally, I am reasonably certain that Henry Tudor was not told what happened to the Princes (plausible deniability?). His actions and behaviour in the aftermath of Bosworth and throughout his reign suggests he was ignorant of their fate. Of course, it doesn’t follow that Margaret Beaufort and John Morton were also unaware of what happened: they might even have been responsible but kept it from Henry for obvious reasons.

[14] Kendall at page 266, and note 9, page 480. More and Vergil assert that Buckingham accompanied the king on his progress as far as Gloucester, where they split. However, I prefer Kendal’s suggestion that Buckingham remained in London for a few days after the king left on his progress and only joined the king later, when he was at Gloucester.   Kendall makes a cogent case for this, using contemporary records.

[15] Carson at pages 161-164 postulates this date and others. Although her reconstructed timetable is conjecture the assumptions are reasonable and based on Vergil’s account of the Morton- Buckingham conversations.

[16] I am ignoring Grafton’s later continuation of More’s ‘History’, which simply repeats Vergil.

[17] If Henry Tudor was to succeed to the throne he needed a legitimate title; the problem was he didn’t have one.   A marriage to Edward’s eldest daughter would give him a title of sorts, but that would only be true if Elizabeth’s brothers were dead. If they were alive, she had no royal title to pass to Henry. It is certainly possible to infer from these circumstances that either the boys were already dead, or they soon would be. Neither is it a great leap of the imagination to infer that Margaret had a clear motive for killing them and blaming Richard. The legitimacy of Henry’s title to the throne is a subject in its own right; one, that I cannot explore here. However, see John Ashdown-Hill – The Lancastrian Claim to the Throne (Ricardian Vol XIII, 2003) at page 27 for a full analysis of the issues. For a different opinion see Ian Mortimer – York or Lancaster: who was the rightful heir to the throne in 1460? (The Ricardian Bulletin, Autumn 2008 at page 20).

[18] Carson at page 164 cites R A Griffiths and R S Thomas – The Making of the Tudor Dynasty (Stroud 1993) at page 102 as evidence that a flotilla was being assembled and Vergil (page 201) for details of the ship and troop numbers. On her chronology it is obvious that these preparations were being made well before Crowland’s rumour of the princes’ deaths arose.

[19] Colin Richmond (1485 and All That: published in Lordship, Loyalty and Law [P W Hammond, ed] (R3S and the Yorkist Historical Trust 1986) at pages 172-206) has an interesting theory that French support for Henry Tudor was the last remnants of the Hundred Years War. Their implacable hostility to Richard arose from his opposition to the Treaty of Picquigny in 1475. Edward IV’s failure to wage a successful French campaign at that time turned the natural aggression of the English nobility inwards, resulting in the division that led to Bosworth ten years later and the collapse of the York dynasty. Richmond adds it is arguable that Bosworth was the last battle of the Hundred Years War.

[20] A.N. Kincaid (editor) – The History of King Richard the Third by Sir George Buck (Alan Sutton 1979) at pages ccxxvi and 163. Buck refers to ‘good testimony’ that Margaret Beaufort and John Morton murdered the boys “ For I have read in an old manuscript book it was held for certain that Dr Morton and a certain countess [he means Margaret Beaufort] conspiring the deaths of the sons of king Edward and some others, resolved that these treacheries should be executed by poison and, and by sorcery…” Unfortunately, the ‘old manuscript book’ seen by Buck is no longer extant. Nevertheless, his comment should not be dismissed out of hand. Thanks to Dr Kincaid we now know that Sir George was in fact an impeccably conscientious, diligent and honest writer. If he says he saw a manuscript, we have no reason to doubt his word.

[21] Gairdner at page154

[22] The enduring problem for Ricardians is that any theory which conceives the boys being killed, whether by Buckingham or Margaret Beaufort or by any one else, for that matter, makes Richard vicariously responsible even though he may have had nothing to do with it. The buck stops with the king: res ipsa loquitur.

An Appropriate Design!

In November I took part in the National Novel Writing Month challenge to write 50,000 words over the month of November and I succeeded! As a reward those who ‘win’ get a link where they can buy the year’s winners’ T-shirt, so I bought it. This is the design this year – I think it is appropriate considering I was writing about Richard III and part of it includes the Battle of Bosworth, where he fights against Henry Tudor. Richard wears the shining armour (note the crown and the ‘Sun in Splendour’ device above his head!) and Tudor is the dragon – his emblem was the Welsh dragon..!  The novel is goning through its editing stage and should be completed in spring 2015

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Design of the NaNoWriMo Winners’ T-Shirt

A ‘Welsh’ Dynasty and Wales

Some people who are fond of Wales are also fond of the dynasty founded by Henry VII because they perceive it as ‘Welsh’. They tend to overlook that Edward IV and Richard III were descended from a real Welsh Prince, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth. This was recognised at the time by Welsh commentators in the case of Edward IV, who was seen as a potential fulfiller of prophecy. It must be admitted that Edward made little use of this potential asset to his kingship, but he did at least appreciate some of his Welsh followers. William Herbert, for example, was the first full-blooded Welshman to be created an earl.

Henry VII was, assuming his ancestry is correctly rendered, exactly one quarter Welsh by blood, one half English and one quarter French. He was of course born in Wales, but so was Henry V, and any number of nobles of Anglo-Norman descent. Whether he was culturally Welsh is an interesting question. He was for much of his childhood brought up by the aforementioned William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and his English wife. Such an upbringing was probably (note probably, not definitely) more Anglo-Welsh than native Welsh. He would have been educated and trained with a view to his making a debut at the English court at some point. Subsequently, he spent most of his life in Brittany and France before becoming King. So we can probably say that his ‘heritage’ was rather mixed, and that he was formed by a number of influences. His perceived Welshness was a useful recruiting tool – and in some ways still is – but once established on the throne he never visited Wales again. Not even once. Which is, frankly, somewhat surprising. However, Henry’s desire to emphasise his Welshness seems to have faded away the day after Bosworth Field. It is perhaps of a piece with his father’s attitude to his ancestry, seen in his coat of arms which included reference to the royal families of England and France, but made no heraldic reference at all to his official grandfather, Owain Tudor, a man of ancient Welsh descent who had borne arms all his life.

So what did he and his successors do for Wales? The answer is, quite bluntly – not a lot. Some individual families of Welsh origin certainly did well in the service of the dynasty. The obvious example being the Cecils (properly Sitsylt). William Cecil, Lord Burghley was certainly not ashamed of his ancestry, indeed he appears to have gilded it somewhat, but it is unlikely he thought of himself as anything other than English, and he certainly did not go out of his way to improve the lot of Wales.

The political map of Wales in 1485 showed a wide variety of Marcher Lordships of various sizes, as well as the royal lands seized by Edward I. These various territories had their own laws and customs, and it was dangerous, particularly for a native Welsh person, to travel between them without a letter of Protection from one or the other of the local lords. Often Welsh law survived, and it was usually possible for two Welsh litigants to have their case settled by it if they so chose. The harsh anti-Welsh laws imposed during and after the Glyndwr rising were still largely in existence, but in practice they were frequently ignored.

After 1485 the majority of these Lordships fell, by one means or another, into Crown hands. From 1489 a special Council meeting at Ludlow acted as the royal authority in the area of Wales and the Marches, and intruded as much as it could into the governance of the few remaining private Lordships. It was an untidy arrangement, and Henry VIII’s solution was to pass what has come to be known as the Act of Union (1536). This went through an English parliament in which the Welsh had no representation at all. It established English-style counties across Wales. However it also abolished what was left of Welsh law, imposing English law in all circumstances. In addition it enforced the use of the English language for all official purposes. (It should be borne in mind that at this time and for some centuries afterwards, most of the ordinary people of Wales were monolingual in Welsh!)

The Act did however benefit the Welsh in some ways. Legally, they were now all ‘English’, which meant that the various disabling statutes no longer applied. A Welsh gentleman was free to take on any office under the Crown without restriction – assuming that he spoke English. In addition, Wales was now represented in Parliament. Again, this was only really of benefit to the gentry classes, but it did give them a potential route of advancement that had not been available before.

Henry VIII of course also destroyed the abbeys of Wales, which in many cases were ancient cradles of Welsh culture. Once again, any benefits from this change fell almost exclusively to the gentry.

It was not until 1563 that a statute provided that a Welsh Bible and a Welsh Prayer Book should be provided in every Church in Wales. This probably saved the Welsh language from extinction. Hitherto the Welsh had had to put up with religious services in a tongue which, for many of them, was just as indecipherable as Latin had been.

Henry Tudor to a T…?

When I saw this dragon in the Tudor Pattern Book, I immediately thought of Henry Tudor. The dragon was green, so now he’s red, and has a white rose between his teeth. Seems like Henry to me.

Book Review: The Battle Of Bosworth 1485 And The Burial Of King Richard Iii

by Wednesday McKenna (writing as Merlyn MacLeod)

I just finished reading Stephen Lark’s The Battle of Bosworth & the Burial of King Richard III and found it a good read for anyone looking for a solid summary. Lark first summarizes the whole of Richard’s life, and then outlines the specific events leading up to his taking the throne in place of his nephew, Edward of York.

Lark’s analysis of the Battle of Bosworth is clear and precise. The book contains two illustrations to help the reader visualize the scene: the placement of the armies before engagement and at its climax. Since no reliable, detailed record of Bosworth exists, every author analyzing the battle is forced to decide what they believe happened and in what sequence it happened. Today, we’re more certain of where the battle took place than how. No one knows exactly how Richard drew up his three “battles”; we do know one was led by Richard himself; another by John Howard, Duke of Norfolk; and the third by Henry Percy, Duke of Northumberland. The author has consulted current archaeological data to frame his analysis, but that data is incomplete since archaeology on the newly discovered battlefield is able to continue only in fits and starts.

Lark’s book is most valuable for any student of history who wants or needs a quick overview of Richard’s life, the battle in which he died, and the events that followed, right up to the discovery of his grave and re-interment of his bones as matters stood in July 2013. But be warned: rather than offering an in-depth analysis, publisher Bretwalda Books specializes in short books that summarize the historical events under discussion. So engaging is Lark’s style, however, that I found myself wishing the author had gone his own way to write a much more detailed biography of King Richard III.

Since the author has been forced to leave out much of the tangled details behind the events of Richard’s life, what Lark doesn’t cover almost speaks more loudly than what he does cover. Definitive statements made by him led to my asking endless questions, such as:

“Before [Edward V] could be crowned it emerged that the marriage of his parents had been invalid under Church law, so he was illegitimate and unable to inherit the crown.” How could Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville’s marriage have been invalid? And how did that bombshell emerge?

“That left the boy’s uncle, Richard, the only surviving male heir. He became king as King Richard III. However, some of Edward IV’s most loyal supporter suspected that Richard had fabricated the evidence against the marriage and, in due course, though he might have murdered Edward’s two sons. Unrest began to fester against the new king, especially among those nobles who found him to be just a bit too honest and diligent at rooting out corruption for their tastes.” Who suspected Richard had invented the evidence, and why? Did he murder his two nephews? If so, why? If not, why not? The Princes in the Tower disappeared; where did they go? How was Richard a bit too honest and diligent? And how could someone with a reputation for honesty and diligence be suspected of murdering his nephews?

“As yet Tudor had no chance of becoming king. But as unrest against Richard grew, Tudor decided his time had come.” How much unrest, and what sort? Who was involved and how did the unrest manifest itself?

I had many more questions as the book went on. This is not a shortcoming of the book; it’s due to the events being discussed and the page limitations set down by the publisher. And so, Lark was unable to explore anything in depth. But the answers underlying each question are part of the long journey that led to Bosworth, so I suspect that any serious readers of The Battle of Bosworth 1485 and the Burial of King Richard III will be inspired — or driven — to ferret out the answers for themselves, to understand who the players were in the battle and exactly why they were there.

The events of Richard III’s life create an intricate puzzle. When you learn one or two details of an event, you fit them into the puzzle and then find yourself chasing additional details because every detail interlocks with details in the lives of a score of other people. Even something that should have been simple, such as his burial after the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, interlocks with matters in 2014 regarding his collateral descendants, a judicial review regarding where he is to be re-interred, ongoing DNA analysis after he’s been re-interred — and that’s only to name a few of the puzzle pieces up for discussion.

Stephen Lark has touched so briefly on the details of Richard’s life and death that the outcome for even the most casual reader is to realize that there is much more to Richard III’s story than the neat, clean legend of, “He killed the Princes in the Tower, usurped his nephew’s throne, died at Bosworth, and deserved what he got.” So after reading The Battle of Bosworth 1485 and the Burial of King Richard III, readers may find themselves pulled into in-depth research to find out what Lark didn’t have room to discuss.

Please be advised that the book contains no list of contemporary or modern historical sources; readers will need to seek their own sources if they want to know more about the events discussed. The book is available on Amazon in paperback (48 pages) and Kindle (58 pages).

Obligatory disclosure: Stephen Lark provided me with a reviewer’s copy of The Battle of Bosworth 1485 and the Burial of King Richard III. The opinions herein, however, are all mine.