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Who was at Sheriff Hutton at the time of Bosworth….?

Sheriff Hutton - impression by Geoffrey Wheeler, Richard III Society

Sheriff Hutton in the snow, by Geoffrey Wheeler

As I understand it, Richard sent his nieces Elizabeth and Cicely/Cecily to Sheriff Hutton before Bosworth, in the care of John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, who was then Richard’s successor as Lord of the North. Lincoln may have stayed there, because there is no proof that he fought alongside Richard.

It is also possible that Richard’s much loved illegitimate son, John of Gloucester, was present, as well as young Warwick, son and heir of the Duke of Clarence. Also the boys from the Tower. The theory is that Edward IV’s sons were spirited away as soon as news of the defeat at Bosworth reached the castle. Maybe they went to their aunt in Burgundy? Maybe they were all supposed to flee to Burgundy (or somewhere else), especially Elizabeth and Cicely, both of whom were in Henry Tudor’s sights as possible brides. But for some reason, they stayed where they were. And eventually both girls, together with Lincoln and Warwick, fell into Tudor’s clutches.

That is a hypothetical complement of the castle at this particular point at the end of August 1485. Now then, here is my question. Is it a full list of those who might be termed Richard’s heirs, and who might have been at Sheriff Hutton? It has been suggested to me that the whereabouts of nine-year-old Anne St Leger might be of interest. She was the daughter of a sister of Edward IV and Richard III, and therefore as much Edward IV’s and Richard’s niece as Elizabeth and Cicely/Cecily, albeit on the female side. But then, Lincoln’s mother was another such sister of the two kings, and it is believed Richard chose—or intended to choose—him as his heir. Regarding Anne St Leger, Richard had executed her father, but would that have mattered when the chips were and a showdown with Henry Tudor loomed?

So, would all these people have had retinues? Or were they likely to have been sparsely attended because of the circumstances? If they had all their servants, who were these servants? Is it known who usually attended Elizabeth and her sister? Or again, perhaps there were other lords and ladies present in the castle?

Many more than one simple question, I know, but I would be interested to know some views on the subject. Over to you, ladies and gentlemen. . . .

 

 

 

 

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A truncated reign and a truncated monarch

Right at the start of this series, Helen Castor (left) takes a black marker pen and illustrates the cause of the 1553 crisis on a large sheet of paper. Beginning with Henry VII, very few of his legitimate male descendants were alive at the start of that year – eliminating the obvious illegitimate cases, we have Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, aged seven (a Catholic in Scotland) and Edward VI, aged fifteen, whose health took a turn for the worse at that time. There were, however, nine healthy legitimate female descendants: Lady Margaret Douglas, Mary Stewart who was Lady Margaret’s niece of ten and already crowned in Scotland (but living as a Queen consort in France), Henry VIII’s two bastardised, but included by law, daughters Mary and Elizabeth, Lady Frances Grey (nee’ Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk in suo jure) and her three daughters Jane, Catherine and Mary together with Frances’ niece Lady Margaret Clifford. In short, the “Tudor” male line was on the propinquity of its termination, although a medical explanation for this was not given.

In the first programme, Castor showed how Edward’s “devise for my succession” developed during that fateful year. First, he hopes that one of the Protestant Grey sisters will have a male heir to succeed him with Frances as the new King’s grandmother and Regent. Then his illness accelerated and there are crossings out on the devise, such that “the Lady Jane’s heires male” becomes “the Lady Jane AND HER heires male”, in the hope that he will live long enough for Parliament to enact this document and supersede Henry VIII’s own legislation, which named the Catholic Mary as heir after Edward, although the Greys would be preferred to the Stewarts. On the left is the “Streatham Portrait“, previously thought to have been of Jane, but not commissioned until half a century later.

During the first half of 1553, Lady Jane was married to Lord Guildford Dudley, son of the Duke of Northumberland who was Lord Protector at the time. Lady Catherine Grey also married, as did Guildford’s sisters, one to Lord Henry Hastings, later Earl of Huntingdon. In the event, fate overtook Edward’s plans and his devise, as letters patent, had no legal status at his death on 6 July. Darnley’s claim as the last “Tudor” male was to be ignored and England was to have a Queen Regent, as Northumberland took his son and new daughter-in-law from Bradgate in Leicestershire, via Sion House to the Royal Apartments in the Tower for her reign to be proclaimed on 10 July, although Jane took the fateful decision that her husband was to be created Duke of Clarence and not King.

In the second programme, Castor explains how the Privy Council erred by sending Northumberland to East Anglia to arrest Mary, removing the realm’s best military commander from the capital, where the professional soldiers and their weapons were. Mary moved from Kenninghall in Norfolk to Framlingham Castle to strengthen her position and gathered support from those who still adhered to her Catholic faith and who had “known” her from afar for her whole life. There was to be no arrest of Mary, nor was there to be a pitched battle as Henry VIII’s first-born child outmanoeuvred Northumberland, at his Cambridge base, in order to march upon London.

The third episode begins with a naval mutiny ensuring that Mary had some artillery to enforce her claimand the Privy Council officially dethroning Jane. Mary took the Tower, Jane, Guildford and their fathers became prisoners and Mary was proclaimed. For Jane, there could be no return to her earlier life at Bradgate. Except for Northumberland, there was to be no trial until November and even then Jane, Guildford and Suffolk had their sentences of death suspended – until Thomas Wyatt rebelled in the Protestant interest in mid-January, in protest at Mary’s plans to marry Phillip II. Mary then signed the three death warrants, the teenage couple went to the block on February 12th and Jane’s father eleven days later. Cranmer, who had been part of her Privy Council, was attainted and deprived but lived to face Mary’s further wrath at a later date. Darnley married the other Queen Mary and was killed a year or two later in his own realm. For nearly fifty years from that July day when Edward VI’s eyes closed for the last time, England had no male claimant descended from Henry VII and the throne was disputed solely by Queens Regnant.

Castor concludes by pointing out that Jane, proclaimed Queen by the Privy Council who had served Edward VI, should be reckoned as a real monarch of England, even though she had been illegally proclaimed and then dethroned. In some ways, her turbulent final year taught her cousin Elizabeth a valuable lesson – not to take a husband, especially as the most likely such candidate was her fellow survivor: Lord Guildford Dudley’s younger brother, Robert.

On the right is Paul Delaroche’s highly inaccurate painting of Jane’s end, painted as late as 1834. His version of her execution takes place indoors but we know that she died on Tower Green, as did most beheaded women.

For those of us more focused on the fifteenth century, we will be familiar with the concepts of a king Edward whose death was not announced for several days whilst a faction sought to establish control (1483) and of prisoners being executed to clear the way for a Spanish marriage (1499).

King Arthur, King Richard and the Wars of the Roses….

 

Arthur and Richard

The following is just a little diversion; the result of that strange half–world we go into when we’re dropping off to sleep. There I was, not counting sheep, but matching Arthurian characters with figures from the Wars of the Roses. Now, I am not an expert on Arthur, or indeed on Richard, just an amateur who likes both.

The list isn’t complete, of course, and I have picked out facts to suit my pairings, but it proved an interesting exercise. No doubt many will disagree with my choices (and my interpretation) but that’s fine, I’d love to see other suggestions – polite ones, that is! And if anyone notices glaring omissions, please, please fill in the gaps. The greatest omission, of course, is Merlin. I just couldn’t think of anyone to fit that particular bill.

One thing – it was difficult to always distinguish between Gorlois and Uther, so I apologise for the odd hop between the two.

Here goes:– 

Arthur – a great king betrayed and killed in battle – son of Ygraine and Uther Pendragon:

Richard III – a great king betrayed and killed in battle son of Cecily, Duchess of York and Richard, Duke of York.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Agravain – joined Mordred:

Thomas, Lord Stanley – joined Henry “Tudor”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Bedivere – survives Camlann and throws Excalibur back to Lady of the Lake, dedicated to Arthur:

Francis Lovell – survives Bosworth and fights on for House of York, dedicated to Richard.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Bors the Elder –Arthur’s ally:

John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, Arthur’s ally.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Camelot:

Middleham and England under Richard.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Claudas – Frankish king hostile to Arthur:

Charles VIII, King of France, Richard’s foe.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Constantine II of Britain – Arthur’s grandfather:

Richard of Conisburgh, 3rd Earl of Cambridge, Richard III’s grandfather.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Dagonet, Arthur’s court jester:

Martin or John, Richard’s court jesters.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Elaine of Benoic, mother of Lancelot, sees him again after many years apart:

Margaret Beaufort – mother of Henry Tudor, sees him again after many years apart.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Galahad, Lancelot’s illegitimate son:

Roland de Vielleville – Henry Tudor’s rumoured illegitimate son – although, from all accounts, definitely lacking Galahad’s gallantry and purity.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Garlon a wicked, invisible knight who kills other knights:

John Morton, who works ‘invisibly’ behind the scenes to bring about Richard’s death. Nasty as they come!

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Gawain, Arthur’s brave nephew:

John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, Richard’s brave nephew

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Gawain’s brothers killed by Lancelot:

Lincoln’s brothers – persecuted and executed by Henry Tudor.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Gorlois of Cornwall, cuckolded by Uther Pendragon:

Richard, Duke of York, who was allegedly cuckolded by the archer Blaybourne, resulting in birth of Edward IV.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Guinevere – accused of destroying Camelot because of her affair with Lancelot:

Elizabeth of York – ended the hopes of the House of York by marrying Henry Tudor.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Hector – raised Arthur in his household:

Warwick the Kingmaker – in whose household Richard was trained as a boy.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Hector de Maris, younger half–brother of Lancelot:

John Welles, Viscount Welles, younger half–brother of Margaret Beaufort and half-nephew of Henry Tudor.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Holy Grail:

Crown of England

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Iseult of Ireland, wife of Mark of Cornwall and adulterous lover of Sir Tristan:

Margaret of Anjou, queen of Henry VI, but probable lover of Edmund Beaufort, 2nd Duke of Somerset, who might have been the father of Edward of Lancaster.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Kay – Arthur’s foster brother:

Robert Percy – close childhood friend of Richard III.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Lady of the Lake/Nimue – provided weapon – Excalibur/Caliburn – for Arthur:

Margaret of Burgundy – provided weapons and finance for the House of York

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Lynette – sister of Lyonesse:            

Isabel Neville, wife of George of Clarence

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Lyonesse – Entrapped sister of Lynette; rescued by Gareth, whom she eventually marries:

Anne Neville, held by brother–in–law, George of Clarence but then rescued and married by Richard III.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Lancelot – unfaithful to Arthur with Guinevere and as a consequence brought down Camelot:

Henry “Tudor” – thinks Richard is his rival for Elizabeth of York, and is responsible for destroying Richard and the House of York at Bosworth – through treachery on the field.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Llamrei, a mare owned by Arthur:

White Surrey, said to be the name of Richard’s horse.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Loholt – Arthur’s illegitimate son:

John of Gloucester, Richard’s illegitimate son.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Madoc, Uther’s son–

Edward IV – Richard, Duke of York’s son or Blaybourne’s son, but still acknowledged as York’s. (I can’t find another son of Uther Pendragon, and so conflate George of Clarence with Edward IV. Sorry.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin – (Can’t think of anyone of WOTR suited to this important role!)

(Sara Nur has now suggested Stillington for Merlin, which I think is a good idea.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Mordred – who changed sides and killed Arthur at Camlann:

Sir William Stanley, who changed sides and was responsible for Richard’s death at Bosworth.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Morgan le Fay – Arthur’s implacable foe but is finally reconciled with him and is one of the queens who take him to Avalon:

Elizabeth Woodville – at first she is Richard’s implacable foe, but is then reconciled.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Nantres – a king married to Arthur’s sister and hostile to him:

Henry Stafford, 2nd Duke of Buckingham – Richard’s cousin and enemy.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Pinel – a knight who tries to poison Gawain to avenge Lamerok’s murder:

William, Lord Hastings – who almost certainly plotted to overthrow Richard to avenge (as he saw it) the children of Edward IV. Was beheaded for his treachery.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Red and white dragons – Merlin predicts that the white dragon will win:

Houses of York and Lancaster – York wins when Edward IV topples Henry VI.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The Green Knight, enchanted by Morgan le Fay:

Anthony Woodville, 2nd Earl Rivers, influenced by his sister, Elizabeth Woodville.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Tristan, lover of Iseult of Ireland:

Edmund Beaufort, 2nd Duke of Somerset, probable lover of Margaret of Anjou.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Uther Pendragon – in the legends, Uther is transformed into the image of Gorlois in order to bed Ygraine:

Blaybourne – an archer – supposedly cuckolded the Duke of York and sired Edward IV – only a rumour.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Vortigern – king who eventually lost his throne to the ‘white dragon’:

Henry VI – his incompetence and inability led to the return to England of Edward IV.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Vortigern’s son, killed by Saxon invaders:

Edward of Lancaster, killed by the House of York at Tewkesbury.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Ygraine, Arthur’s mother through Uther Pendragon:

Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, mother of Richard by the Duke of York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Myrna Smith, Ricardian Reading Editor, writes a review of the Cicely Plantagenet Trilogy by Sandra Heath Wilson…

Cicely Trilogy 

Princess Cicely (an alternative spelling of Cecily) is 16 as her love story commences in this trilogy, 18 at the end of the third book. During that time, she has cut quite a swath at the English court. Her lovers include two kings and three jacks. That is, three men named John, whom the author differentiates by calling John of Gloucester John, John de la Pole Jack, and John Welles Jon.  At the end of the third book, she has also met her last husband, Thomas Kymbe, but so far their relationship is still platonic. I’m sure he will wind up being aces with Cicely.

Cicely explains herself: “I am the way Almighty God made me.” Well, her creator (small c) has put plenty of spice in the mixture. The men in her life each have a signature scent: Richard’s is costmary, Henry’s cloves, Jack’s thyme. We are not told what Cicely’s perfume is, but it must be pretty heady. “I cannot help it that men seem to find me so desirable, but they do…” No wonder her big sister wants to hit her upside the head, and does, once. And she is not the only one. Not only that, but both men and women confide in her, and she rather wishes they wouldn’t.

Is this just a picaresque and picturesque recital of Cicely’s bedroom adventures, a bodice-ripper verging on soft porn? More than that, I think. There is a lot of action and derring-do, as well as many quieter and more poignant scenes, such as Henry VII unknowingly holding Richard’s unacknowledged son, and letting the child chew on his finger, as teething babies will.  There is witty dialogue. And there is adept characterization, although some may be controversial. Particularly that of Henry Tudor. He admits that he is “not virtuous,” but damn, he’s sexy!  Says the author: “This aspect of Henry’s character is yet more invention. He may have been a great lover, or he may have been very dull between the sheets…So, I have fashioned him as I wish. Such is the power of a writer of fiction.” Not to mention that without this invention, the trilogy would not be a trilogy.

Another way of stretching out the story (but not unduly) is having Richard III appear after he is dead. This is nothing paranormal, Ms. Wilson assures us. He is just a figment of Cicely’s imagination. “Through him she can talk of things that she already knows or thinks for herself.” Or would think, if she were using the organ intended for that purpose. At times, he can be a very real figment. He has to remind Cicely. “I am not real…I am within you….I made a mess of a lot of things. And look where it got me. In my makeshift grave at thirty-two. Please allow me down from the pedestal upon which you are so determined to place me.”

Ms. Wilson even pokes gentle fun at Ricardian hagiography in the words she puts in Lord Welles’ mouth:  “How can anyone compete with him, hmm? Young, handsome, tragic, brave, betrayed, bereaved, beloved, cultured, powerful, just, loyal, intelligent, sensitive….endowed with more attraction in his big toe than I have in my entire body…he could fight like a warrior, converse like an archangel, negotiate like a king, and dance like a courtier….He did not only wear a crown, he wore a damned halo!”

One or two small quibbles before I get to the summing-up: Henry employs a spy who is deaf (“not from birth”) and reads lips. I have reason to know that the art of lip-reading depends a lot on educated guesswork and knowing what the conversation is about, and it is increasingly difficult with greater distance. Also, how does one “kneel up?” (SHW: Regarding ‘kneeling up’. If one kneels and then sits back on one’s heels, one is kneeling, but not kneeling up. If one straightens from that position, without standing, one kneels up.)

The test of any multi-book series is, does the reader look forward to the next book? I do. In the next, Cicely’s Sovereign Secret, we will learn the identity of the woman who taught Henry Tudor the art of lovemaking. We will possibly learn the significance of Richard of York’s (Cecily’s little brother) small scar, and Edward of Warwick’s birthmark.  And although Henry tells Cicely, “I can no longer hoist anything with [Elizabeth],” they will eventually have six more children. Apparently someone was doing some hoisting. Maybe they will be reconciled in a future book. I just hope my eyes will hold out until Cicely gets to the Kymbe chapter in her life.

I always try to review books in the spirit in which they are written. Sandra Heath Wilson gives a clue to her spirit in the last line of one of the books: “Historical fiction is for entertainment; history itself is for serious study. Never mix the two.” Entertaining it most certainly is!

Myrna Smith

Ricardian Reading Editor

CICELY’S KING RICHARD:-

Publisher: Robert Hale/ Buried River Press, UK, 2014

Paperback: ISBN-10: 071981233X and ISBN-13: 978-0719812330

Kindle: ASIN: B00L19AGQ2

CICELY’S SECOND KING:-

Publisher: Robert Hale/Buried River Press, UK, 2014

Paperback: ISBN-10: 0719812615 ISBN-13: 978-0719812613

Kindle: ASIN: B00MNMBDAE

CICELY’S LORD LINCOLN :-

Publisher: Robert Hale/Buried River Press, UK, 2014

Paperback: ISBN-10: 071981362X and ISBN-13: 978-0719813627

Kindle: ASIN: B00O71JRFM

The next book in the series, CICELY’S SOVEREIGN SECRET, will be published in September 2015. ISBN-10: 191020837X and ISBN-13: 978-1910208373

Cicely's Sovereign Secret

Book Review: We Speak No Treason

We Speak No Treason by Rosemary Hawley Jarman

Review by Lisl (2013)

Because I sometimes have a tendency to borrow too many books from the library, it happens on occasion that I tire of keeping up with conflicting due dates and end up tossing the lot into a bag to haul them back, unread. Such was nearly the case with an older, non-slipcovered edition of Rosemary Hawley Jarman’s We Speak No Treason, a novel I’d ordered on recommendation, but didn’t remember as I was deciding my returns. I made to rid myself of this unknown book, thinking it a pity I was unaware of its content; it could be a rewarding read. Alas, could all the rest be, and so I sighed and continued with my task.

Something stayed my hand, however, and it actually hovered over the return pile as I hesitated and then finally withdrew, my curiosity unwilling to let go of what I might find between these covers.

We Speak no Treason-1

Curiosity in the Middle Ages could be a dangerous trait, as we see the characters here hover before even simple scenarios they know about or wish to know more of, perform secret observations, listen in on others’ conversations, purposefully or perchance. They, too, draw back, aware that even small choices could change the course of their lives while circumstances around them scheme to propel their destinies in other unknown manner.

The language of the tale is indeed magical yet ordinary. Many of the words we associate with medieval speech appear, and at first, perhaps, readers may perceive them as curious, though the mournful aura of the tale hangs heavier than unknown lexicon. This is perhaps especially as the deeper readers make their way into the telling, the lexicon begins to take on a more ordinary aspect. Words begin to be recognized as cousins to those we use today, their associations and nuances easily understood in the passages they inhabit. Jarman repeats them enough—in the manner people would in ordinary parlance—for us to become accustomed, while avoiding the heavy-handedness that sometimes traps medieval novels in stereotype, and she does with grace and variety, each character at times revealing his or her own patterns of speech.

Forbidden stories of King Richard III, We Speak No Treason is narrated by three who had been close to him though furthest now from any safe position to engage in such discussion: the Maiden, Richard’s former leman-turned-nun; the Fool, perilously serving under Henry Tudor following service to both Richard III and his elder brother, Edward IV; and the Man of Keen Sight, condemned to die for the crime of loyalty to his king, by way of Henry Tudor’s backdating his own reign.

We are led through the events of the years leading up to that terrible summer of 1485, which sees the slaughter of the last Plantagenet king at the hands of Henry Tudor’s impossibly outnumbered army. Treason aids the usurper, whose paranoia is so great that even in the age of Elizabeth I, his granddaughter, no Plantagenet association is too small to remove the threat of execution. Small wonder the characters, revealing to us their secrets in Henry’s time, are “diverters of necessity,” secret personal writings or whisper their tale despite an already appointed date with death.

One’s own choices do not always a destiny make, though sometimes they can seem to seal fates. The Maiden’s remembrances draw us into the tale, by way of a book she had written in and hidden for over sixteen years, knowing she should have set it ablaze long before. Like the garden she tends and loves as her own, she once knew Richard Gloucester and tended him in secret, away from the curious and prying eyes of such like Elysande, who shields her from their common mistress, Jacquetta of Bedford. Friendly with Elysande during the reign of Edward IV, she nevertheless lives within a “cold season,” as she does when telling her tale under Henry VII. For Jacquetta is the mother of Edward’s Queen Elizabeth, of the Woodvilles, Lancastrians whose enmity with Edward’s York branch of the Plantagenets is bitter and long lasting—and later allied with Tudor.

Elysande creates diversions for the lover she knows exists, though she is unaware until later this lover’s Plantagenet name. The Maiden is savvy enough to have created her own strategy to get herself to court with her mistress, but later falls victim to Jacquetta’s and the Queen’s dangerous fright when Edward is taken prisoner by his rebellious Warwick cousin. She is spared death, but packed off to a nunnery, being the only one aware that, as she journeys she “safeguard[s] one last small and secret joy. The royal child, the Plantagenet. The child of my beloved.”

The Maiden’s tale at this point is broken, and prior perusal of the book would indicate that her tale picks up again in the fourth section, “The Nun.” Not necessarily meant to be a surprise, the Maiden herself references her nun status at the start, and modern readers have at least small awareness of medieval nunneries as a destination for widows and some women without means.

The baton thus passes to the Fool, and as we move deeper into his version of events, we begin to grasp the scope of Jarman’s skill in handling multiple narrators. Until now we have lived the Maiden’s tale with her in linear fashion, which may be the safest method but also the most effective given the sheer volume of detail. Familial relationships, names, events, rivalries, all this and more are referenced in a narrative that spans from the Maiden’s childhood, and prepares the reader for a slight shift in storytelling method as, fittingly, an actor takes the stage.

As such, the jester does not merely talk about disguisings; his life is lived as one. He “hides his wit behind idiocy and keeps a well-tuned ear,” talents that no doubt help ensure his survival under the reign of Henry Tudor. Moreover, Jarman’s technique with his storytelling reflects these methods he utilizes, giving the reader occasional pause to wonder under which king or moment the Fool now speaks. He tells of the Tudor’s paranoia manifest in a demand made after witnessing his mastiffs take on and kill a lion: “Hang them…Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a king.”

Piers—he reveals to us his name as well as internal conflict—nevertheless must at times strain to bear the load his lot in life has given him. “I live in past and present, then suddenly both come together with a fierce clash like an axe on armour and I am shaken into confusion[.]” He tends to confide in us some of the most horrific scenes at natural stopping points, or such when one must cease for the moment, the weight of his knowledge being too difficult to bear. We read these passages and then stop, the silence sitting with us as heavy as the terrible words preceding it. While talking about Anne’s pregnancy with the beloved Edward, Piers remembers Richard’s bastard son, and discusses at length the family’s living arrangement. John of Gloucester, he tells us, went to the block at age twenty, “brave Plantagenet. ‘Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a King.’”

If seeing so deftly into past and present while juggling to maintain a future is a curse as well as blessing, so too is there a downside to the acute vision possessed by the aptly named Man of Keen Sight, who, incidentally, meets briefly with Piers, who initially writes him off as a braggart.

However, it is so; the man has the ability to see into a long distance with greater acuity than most any other person. This aids greatly in his riding skills, but is “the archer’s enemy,” owing to the deficiency in spatial differentiation it causes. Perhaps akin to or presenting in conjunction with a proprioceptive disorder, it disorients the vision so receptors provide misinformation as to distance. “How,” the man asks, “can an archer study the nock and the unwavering hold when already the fat white cloud dangles close to his nose?”

Nonetheless, he develops technique to conquer this “useful fault” and it leads to riding with the Duke of Gloucester, whom he comes to love. The Man goes into exile with Richard, Dickon, who assigns him a pseudonym, “Mark Eye,” fitting for an archer and pleasing to the Man. He grows to love Dickon, and life, good, moves on.

It is not to last, however, as readers are aware from the time the Man is introduced by way of a penitent verse of The Nut-Brown Maid, one of many sung to us through the course of the novel:

It standeth so; a deed is do
Whereof great harm shall grow;
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow.
Or else to flee, the t’one must be,
None other way I know
But to withdraw as an outlaw
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can;
For I must to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.

Indeed, we are privy from the start to the understanding that herein lies a condemned man, one even who hears the construction outside of his own gallows. Frequently, as he relays his story to us from his cell, he accepts defeat and fault. He condemns his actions, though not for having ridden at the last with King Richard, but rather for the shame that stayed with him for having neglected his friendship and duty to the king, indeed for having betrayed him by teaming up, cowardly-like, with those aiming to destroy Richard after King Edward’s death.

It is also he who receives the prophecy depicting the end of the Plantagenet line, and: “your King. . . the foot that strikes the stone shall turn into a head, and the bones tossed on a dunghill, to stink forever.” He tries to shake off memory of it, as he tried to dismiss it when it is first told him. But his ability to do fails, as increasingly does any sort of sight that may have aided him to perceive the darkness in men, as Richard himself comments upon, after regaining the upper hand from those who aim to thwart his protectorship: “How strange are the hearts of men!” That Richard chooses time and again to forgive those who seek to do him ill—or are too lazy or cowardly to protest such—provides a vision in itself, the “natural” consequences, some might say, of allowing those who seek his destruction to roam free.

If Richard possesses such a failing and declines to admit it, the Man does not. He speaks in hindsight of his acuity dimming and recalls grievously instances when, even then, he ought to have wondered. In moments such as these, again, the author weaves her own storytelling skills by presenting the same event from different perspectives—and how different they at times are! Comparison of the passages indicate clearly what is important to each teller, by way of what each highlights (or leaves out) as well as their brevity or length.

There is a sort of deja-vu to these scenes, ghostly almost, until readers realize in fact they have been here before.

He summoned a sleepy young man to escort me back to the castle, one who had but lately come on duty, so that none should know, for the greenish dawn was rising over the fens and the camp would soon be stirring. He raised his hand to me as he stood between the tent-flaps, and there was a light about him that was not earthly; or it may have been their marsh fiends dimming their night-lamps behind him; I did not know.

*********
It was at Fotheringhay, and I had gone down into the camp, late, with some message. Everything was steaming with damp summer heat and in the musky darkness I discovered him with a young maid, whom he bade me guard through the ranks and deliver to the Duchess of Bedford’s apartments.
. . . I had thought it prudent to offer the damsel my arm, as she struggled through the trailing briars. . . . She stopped suddenly when we had gone a few steps and turned to look back.
‘Ah Jesu!’ she whispered, ‘How he shines!’
I fixed my sight upon the pale Duke, bringing him near in the lanternlight. A moth flew round his face and he lifted his hand to brush it away. The maiden smiled, in tears.
‘There is a light. . . a light,’ she sighed.
‘What then, mistress?’
She had looked up at me from the cavern of her hood.
‘A light about him not of this world,’ she said.
I could see naught but the fen-fires, burning malefically.

In any kind of literary studies, readers are frequently instructed in the import of every single word; in no other novel has this reviewer found this to be quite as so as in this one. It is, as Jarman herself states, “a mammoth work,” though by no means in size alone. The information, understanding, historical references, implications—every single sentence contains something to inform another passage or reality, or brings to bear somewhere else. And the author not only weaves it all together, but does so via three different complex personalities. An additional result, for better or worse, is a greater awareness of the psychology of humans. Readers begin to grasp the scope of differences, the pathways in lives, and understand a bit more about the why in some of them. We may never understand why Richard makes some of the choices he does, though we can more competently assess the reality in which he lives, and leave judgment off for someone else.

Nevertheless choices do lead people, as they do for this Man of Keen Sight. Greater awareness of his own choices leads him to the cell he now occupies, willingly, for he chooses not to quit the field alive. That he leaves alive became the choice of an Other, and it is to lead him to his death. He speaks plainly of the books about Richard he shall never read, though he is sure they cannot invent hateful propaganda, for “[t]hey would need to invent a devil in human shape, so great was his glory.”

And so they did. The Maiden, following escape with her royal daughter from the pseudo house of God the Woodvilles had imprisoned her in, learns so very quickly when she quite by chance sees, on that terrible summer day in 1485, the prophecy become true. As the Tudor men’s victory train passes by, approaching the Bow Bridge,

they surged on to [it], packed tight, their horses struggling in fear. The mule [hauling Richard’s ill-treated body], now nearly dropping from weariness among the foaming destriers, the steel-clad thighs, its flanks sodden with bloody sweat, staggered against the side of the bridge. The King’s head was crushed upon the stone. I heard the sound of rending bone, saw the bright new hurt done to the head which once did lie so sweetly in my lap. And I went mad.

But who was comfortable in the choices that led to this moment? Perhaps even not Henry Tudor, who worried these moments, some say, for the rest of his life, and not just in fear of his reign on this earth. The paranoia he created, not so uncommon in some royal circles, lived still when the one called Perkin Warbeck appeared, indeed still when the last Tudor monarch ruled. “They”—not only the Tudors—did indeed create a devil in human shape, taken up by others in fear for their lives.

What of us, then? We no longer have such fear stalking us. We can speak freely of Richard now, yet we, over 500 years later, have been taught and still teach our children of this “devil.” This is the choice we have made, save for some who have dedicated themselves to the truth, from the moment it was safe to do. So the threat over life is no more, but the pain lives on.

“How strange are the hearts of men!” Jarman’s Richard had cried out. For in addition to the dreadful memories exist some perceived threat to the power of theory, perhaps, or sense of relating. These people seem to want Richard to remain in the form that has been created for him, and although honest debate has been made, there are others who are not quite so.

In less than two hours from this writing the University of Leicester archeological dig team will reveal to the world the results of the DNA testing they have done on remains found that may be those of Richard, so unceremoniously treated in 1485. For Richard they seek to reverse the prophecy, at least that which relegates him to stink forever.

We cry for him at such inopportune moments, argue his case and in some instances find animosity developing around us. Some, including the author of We Speak No Treason, never wished for this dig to proceed—plainly and awfully spoken, it is indeed the digging up of an anointed king. Others argue they want to give him the dignified burial robbed from him. I cannot help but remember the Mother’s words to our Maiden:

“Have I not said that this life is a transient thing?”

Whatever our position, it may be our only consolation.

Today’s anniversaries:

Today is the annniversary of the death in 1416 of Constance of York, Lady Despenser and (for a time) Countess of Gloucester. She was one of many people of various conditions in life who inexplicably preferred the ‘tyranny’ of Richard II to the rule of Henry IV, and put their lives at risk to do something about it. She survived to die in her bed because a) she was a woman (or rather a lady) and b) the King’s cousin. The Plantagenets did not execute women for political reasons.

It is also the anniversary of the death of Edward, Earl of Warwick, the last legitimate male Plantagenet. Born in 1475, he was imprisoned from the age of ten, executed at Tower Hill in 1499 for an ostensible plot with the mysterious youth known as “Perkin Warbeck”. “Perkin” and Edward’s cousin John of Gloucester, were also executed that month, allowing Prince Arthur to marry Catherine of Aragon. Evidently, these moral scruples were not shared by the “Tudors”.

The “Third Prince” – more thoughts

Many of you will remember Annette Carson’s contribution to last March’s Leicester conference, describing Edward, Earl of Warwick, as the “Third Prince”. He, barred by his father’s attainder, was just as significant as his cousins but we know that he was treated well throughout Richard III’s reign. From almost the day that that ended, he became a prisoner in the Tower.

Some decade and a half later, he was joined by one “Perkin Warbeck”, thought by many to be Richard of Shrewsbury, the middle son of Edward IV. Whilst people often point out that “Perkin” was not allowed to meet Shrewsbury’s mother (Elizabeth Woodville) or his sister (Elizabeth of York), possibly for fear of recognition, he established contact with Warwick. We know this because they were tried for a mutual treasonable conspiracy.

It is generally thought that they, and another cousin John of Gloucester, were executed in 1499 to clear a path for Arthur “Tudor”‘s Spanish marriage. Had the Earl definitely recognised his cousin, Henry VII had another powerful reason to dispose of him as well as the long-term rebel “Warbeck”.

More Cairo fun

It seems as if those denialists, rather than give up and concede that the evidence*since Kendall is favourable to Richard, are descending into self-parody.

Apart from someone, with a name that is quite valuable at Scrabble, resurfacing after five years, we have had some new claims. The Calais garrison were suggested to have defected to “Tudor” when Edward IV’s bigamy revealed, except that we know that they were loyal throughout Richard’s reign as John of Gloucester was still their Captain at the end. Catherine de Valois apparently attended and addressed Parliament when her “wedding” to Owen Tudor was attested to, a considerable feat for a dead lady.

Still, these new falsehoods make a change from their old ones, disproven so often.

* Barrie Williams, Ashdown-Hill, Carson etc

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