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Wingfield

Wingfield is a village in the middle of North Suffolk, just a few miles off the A140. There is a “castle”, but this is privately occupied and the owner is a little secretive. The village also features a small “college” and wedding venue, also known as Wingfield Barns, but its main features are St. Andrew’s Church and the “de la Pole Arms”, an excellent hostelry which is directly opposite the churchyard.

This Church tells the story of the de la Poles as they expanded from their mercantile origins in Hull and married an heiress of the Wingfield line. Monuments to three heads of the family and their spouses lie near the altar, which was moved further east as the church grew to accommodate the last of these tombs. Nearer to the door, a board (left) summarises the de la Pole genealogy as they experienced close association with the Black Prince, the wrath of Richard II, the vagaries of Henry V’s French expedition, sudden death aboard the Nicolas of the Tower, marriage to the sister of Edward IV and Richard III – and the reigns of the first two “Tudors”, the last confirmed family member dying in the Tower of London in 1538, although a mystery remains in France and in Italy. John de la Pole’s shield, replete with leopards, is among many in the church.

By then the Brandons, descended through another Wingfield heiress, and their son-in-law Henry Grey had been assigned the Duchy of Suffolk but this tenure ended in 1553-4 as Grey backed his daughter’s claim to the throne and was attainted and executed.

Additionally, a tomb to Robert Leman DD (right) lies beneath the flagstones. This Georgian cleric may well be related to Sir John of Beccles, particularly as he seems to have enjoyed the living of Pakefield, which is also by the A12, further east.

 

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The Bedingfield turncoat of Oxburgh Hall….

Oxburgh Hall - picture by Art Fund

Oxburgh Hall – picture by Art Fund

In this 2014 post mention was made of Sir Edmund Bedingfield of Oxburgh Hall, near King’s Lynn in Norfolk. He was a Yorkist-turned-Tudor supporter who, like the Stanleys and others, failed Richard III at Bosworth.

Sir Edmund was a Yorkist who benefited under Edward IV and Richard III (at the coronation of the latter, he was created a Knight of the Bath), but the ingrate signally withheld support at Bosworth. By 1487 Bedingfield was very cosy indeed with Henry Tudor, playing host to him—and Elizabeth of York, Margaret Beaufort and the Earl of Oxford—at Oxburgh Hall at Easter 1487. I trust it stretched the Bedingfield finances to breaking point! The traitorous fellow then turned out for Henry at the Battle of Stoke Field, fighting under John de Vere, Earl of Oxford. After the battle, Bedingfield was made a knight banneret.

A rather handsome Henry VII

A rather handsome Henry VII from the Oxburgh Hall National Trust website

So, what conclusion are we to draw from all this? That Bedingfield was a staunch supporter of Edward IV, but did not agree with Richard III’s claim to the throne? He probably believed the rumours that Richard had done away with Edward IV’s two sons, and so went over the wall into the Tudor camp. One imagines he would subsequently have been very much under Henry’s eye, because that suspicious king very sensibly did not trust anyone who changed sides. Nevertheless Bedingfield prospered under the Tudors, as did his descendants, until their Catholicism got in the way under Elizabeth. Although that queen did honour Oxburgh with her presence in 1578.

Let us return to Easter 1487 (in April that year) and the royal visit to Oxburgh, which house, incidentally had been built after Edward IV granted Bedingfield a licence in 1482. Unusually, the chosen material was red brick, a very costly option at that time. Bedingfield’s gratitude can be seen in the numerous Yorkist falcon-and-fetterlock badges throughout the house, where Edward’s licence is on display. No doubt Bedingfield was especially honoured to have Elizabeth of York beneath his roof, because (in the absence of her brothers) he undoubtedly regarded her as the true heir of Edward IV.

falcon and fetterlock

According to Bedingfield family tradition, the king and queen did not lodge in the main house, but in the noble gatehouse, which has remained virtually unchanged since it was first built. Henry and his Yorkist queen would recognized everything about it were they to return now, and so would Elizabeth I.

Oxburgh Hall - 1482

According to a very detailed description in Greater Medieval Houses of England and Wales, 1300-1500 by Anthony Emery:

“The gatehouse is a tall, three-storeyed block with dominating half octagonal frontal towers. The latter are divided by seven tiers of sunk panels decorated with triplets of cusped arches surmounted by a battlemented head on blind machiolations. The four-centred entry arch with double relieving arches is closed by the original pair of oak doors. The four-light window above has a stepped transom with a three-light transomed window at second-floor level. The whole is spanned by an open-machiolated arch supporting a line of blind cusped arcading and crow-stepped parapet.

“The gatehouse is a subtly modulated composition. Ashlar stonework was chosen for the central windows but brick for those in the towers with open cinquefoil lights in the stair tower and uncusped single lights with brick labels to the closets in the east tower. Contrasting chevron brickwork is used over the principal window but a single line of yellow brick surmounts that above. Though blind arcading was a common enough tower decoration at the time—as at Buckden, Gainsborough Old Hall and Hadleigh Deanery—the height of the Oxburgh towers is emphasized by the diminishing elevation of the embracing panels of brickwork. The east tower has loopholes at ground level with two quatrefoils above set in blind recesses withy two-centred heads, whereas the side faces of the stair tower at all stages have quatrefoils set in square frames. The entrance position is curious, for its hood is cut by the west tower and the head stop has had to be turned as though it was purposed to be in line with the hall porch on the opposite side of the courtyard, though this still lay a little to the right as the gatehouse does to the whole north frontage.”

Yes, a very detailed description, and (to the likes of me) somewhat confusing, so here are two photographs of the gatehouse, which will perhaps make Emery’s words easier to follow. The first one is of the external approach, while the one below it is a view of the gatehouse from within the courtyard.

Gatehouse at Oxburgh - approach from outside

Gatehouse at Oxburgh from courtyard - from Tour Norfolk

In the illustration below, of the gatehouse chamber known as the King’s Room, I fear that according to the National Trust, it is something of a misnomer. It is not the room in which Henry slept, nor is it the bed, which is 1675. I have not been able to find anything to identify the actual room. All we know is that the bed in which Henry rested his head was described in the 1533 will of Edmund’s son and heir, another Edmund, as being covered with “…a fustian [wool or cotton fabric] covering or red and green sarsnet [silk] unicorns and scallop shells.”

The King's Room at Oxburgh Hall

The illustration below is of the Queen’s Room, which does appear to be the one in which Elizabeth of York slept. The two figures represent Henry and Elizabeth. Not sure about the accuracy if the 15th-century television.

Queen's Room - with Henry and Elizabeth

Oxburgh Hall is a very beautiful old house set in a moat, and is a great testament to the taste of Sir Edmund Bedingfield. But for those who believe Richard III was rightly the King of England, it is necessary to overlook the fellow’s Judas tendencies.

Bedingfield arms

Bedingfield

 

 

 

Did Richard III choose his nephew Lincoln as his heir presumptive….?

James Laurenson as Lincoln, from The Shadow of the Tower

James Laurenson as Lincoln, from The Shadow of the Tower

The identity of Richard’s chosen heir has always been a sort-of mystery. Not to me. I have always believed he chose his sister’s eldest son, John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln. But then I’m stubborn, and once I have made up my mind, it takes a lot to shift me.

Lincoln seemed the obvious candidate. He was a full-grown man, brave, a soldier, of close Yorkist blood and devoted to his uncle. And he was undeniably legitimate. But Richard did not formally declare him as his heir. Granted, the fact that Lincoln was appointed Lieutenant of Ireland was a considerable signal, because so often whoever held that title was the heir to the throne. But not always. You’d think there would be some evidence to confirm him as Richard’s choice. But, up to now, it seems there isn’t.

Of course, the question became hypothetical in the aftermath of Bosworth – not because Richard was killed that day but because his army was defeated. After all, several other commanders have died during a victory in battle over the years. Wolfe at the Plains of Abraham was a case in point, as was Nelson at Trafalgar.

Wolfe

Perhaps Richard was convinced that Lincoln would only be a temporary measure, until he himself married again and produced a true heir. Why not? Richard was a young, healthy man who had children, so he wasn’t firing blanks, as the saying goes. Lincoln didn’t leave any legitimate children, and I do not know if he left any baseborn offspring, but he certainly came from a prolific family. There were numerous de la Pole brothers to provide a succession of heirs should anything befall Lincoln himself. Which it did in the end, of course, and in due course two of his brothers, Edmund and Richard, were to take up the cudgels. Richard would surely have been on to a good thing if he passed the succession to this family of boys. So I remain on Lincoln’s side as Richard’s chosen heir.

East Stoke

So why didn’t he confront Henry VII on his own account at Stoke Field in 1487? The only reason I can think of is that while there were males from senior branches of York, they were illegitimate or attainted, and he judged that his own descent through the female line was against him. He had not been formally declared Richard’s heir, and maybe the fact that he was the child of Richard’s sister was not in his favour. But he was legitimate and his father had not been attainted (see my thoughts on Warwick, below). Hmm, not a good reason, I admit, and maybe it would never have occurred to Lincoln, but I can’t do better. His reason for supporting “Lambert Simnel” will always fascinate. And maybe he did believe in the boy.

Lambert Simnel

There is a considerable school of thought in favour of Clarence’s son, the Earl of Warwick, being Richard’s heir and Rous was prominent in this. Warwick was, after all, legitimate. But he was also attainted because of his father, George of Clarence, having been executed by Edward IV as a traitor. This was why Richard III did not consider him in 1483 when the sons of Edward IV were found to be illegitimate.

Yes, but attainders could be reversed, do I hear you say? Indeed, but why should Richard do that when his own claim was true? And thus, in due course, his son’s claim would be true as well. If Warwick was thought of as the next rightful heir to the throne, Richard would have put him there. But Richard took the throne himself, thus making it clear that he thought Warwick was not the true heir. I do not believe that when Richard’s son died so unexpectedly, Richard would suddenly have changed his mind about Warwick. By doing that, he would make a mockery of his own claim.

So no, Warwick was not Richard’s choice. Nor were the sons of Edward IV, if they still breathed, because they were illegitimate. No doubt of that in Richard’s mind. So his choice was Lincoln, and a worthy choice it was too. If we could prove it, of course. Lack of evidence inevitably means coming to one’s own decision. I support Lincoln. Richard chose him too, albeit in the hope of producing more children of his own with his next queen.

My imagined version of Lincoln - courtesy of Titian, twiddled by Sandra Heath Wilson

My imagined version of Lincoln, courtesy of Titian, twiddled by Sandra Heath Wilson

Is Francis Lovell lying at rest in Gedling church….?

possible resting place of Francis Lovell - All Hallows, Gedling

There is a theory that Francis Lovell, on fleeing the battlefield at East Stoke in 1487, met with some mishap and ended up buried in the Church of All Hallows, Gedling in Nottinghamshire. Stoke Bardolph Castle (now gone) not far from Gedling, was the seat of the Bardolph family, of whom his mother, Jane, was a member. She still lived there at the time, and maybe he was trying to reach her.*

Gedling, Stoke Bardolph and East Stoke

The ferry at Fiskerton

Francis may have tried to cross the River Trent, which is adjacent to Stoke Field, at a place called Fiskerton, where the water is shallow, especially in summer.

What may have led to his death is not known. He may have been badly wounded during the battle. Whatever, he could well be the anonymous 15th-century knight buried under an alabaster slab at the south end of the altar-table in All Hallows. Or he may not be, of course. I must not lose sight of the fact that this is all supposition.

gedling-church-plan

The theory about Francis first turned up in the Transactions of the Thoroton Society: “A few lines in black wax constitute the remains of an inscription and effigy of a knight of the 15th century. The late Mr. Lawson Lowe, of Chepstow, said in December, 1882, that when he visited the church in 1865, the date could be made out, and he thought the effigy might be that of a knight who fought at the battle of Stoke, near Newark, in 1487.”

From this has developed the possibility that it is Francis Lovell who lies there. You can read more here, here or here.

I have a vague connection with Gedling church, having attended the nearby grammar school, Carlton le Willows, in 1958-60. In the summer of 1960, after our ‘O’ levels, little trips were arranged, one of which was to the church. I remember climbing the very worn steps in the tower, right to the top. The view was great, but I’m not good with heights, and while it was easy enough to climb, the angle of the worn steps was against me on the way down. The steps were very steep as well, and it was a l-o-n-g way down. Horrible. My legs shook for days afterwards, and I vowed never to climb a church tower again. It is a vow I’ve kept.

view from gedling church

The view from Gedling church tower

To think that I was in the very church where Francis Lovell may be buried….

 

francislovellgarterarms

* There seems some doubt about whether or not Lovell’s mother was still alive in 1487, the consensus being that she was not. So I must adjust my statement above, and wonder if, her death notwithstanding, Lovell may still have turned to Stoke Bardolph as a possibly friendly temporary refuge.

 

 

 

Jack of Lincoln, be not bold….?

800px-John_de_la_Pole,_1st_Earl_of_Lincoln_svgWe all know the couplet that was supposedly pinned to the Duke of Norfolk’s tent on the eve of Bosworth. Well, it could as easily be applied to John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln.

Jack of Lincoln, be not bold, for Dickon, thine uncle, is bought and sold.

Lincoln could  have taken the simple way out after the battle, and stayed obediently in Henry Tudor’s court, possibly enjoying great rewards for showing this new loyalty. Or so someone is claiming. I doubt if Lincoln ever had any intention of sucking up to Henry. His Yorkist blood was rich and thick, and he could never accept the new rule. He knew the Tudor axeman was honing his blade almost from the word go, and that Henry was merely biding his time for an excuse to do away with this great lord of the House of York. Lincoln bolted for Burgundy at the earliest opportunity, and returned to the Yorkist fold, which he had never really left. He was prepared to do anything to see Tudor toppled and York restored.

So how dare a modern “Tudor-Lancastrian” describe him as having thrown away a brilliant future at HT’s court by being too darned ambitious? Ambitious? Too faithful to his roots, more like. And how brilliant a future would it have been to end up on Tower Hill, with his head parted from his body?

Henry Tudor was rabidly anti-York, fearing it at every turn, as well he might. He was to systematically dispose of everyone whose blood was even vaguely York. And those he spared (due to an oath) he consigned to his monstrous son, Henry VIII, for the dirty work to be continued. I only wish Lincoln’s invasion had ended differently at Stoke Field. We’d have been spared the disgustingly bloodthirsty Tudors and their reigns of terror.

 

Miles Metcalf, or how the city of York defied Henry VII…

Medieval York

In a book called The Fifteenth Century – 3: Authority and Subversion, edited by Linda Clark, there is an interesting essay by James Lee entitled Urban Recorders and the Crown in Late Medieval England. I have taken from the article to illustrate the situation of the city of York with regard to the vital position of recorder. Specifically, an incumbent by the name of Miles Metcalf (of whom, regretfully, I have been unable to find a portrait).

York Minster

The rise of the recorder (a large number of whom were professional lawyers) came about because of provincial towns’ need to ensure their lines of communication with the central authorities were both adequate and secure. This was in order to push for their own demands and to respond to those of central government. Such matters were especially important at times of a change in dynasty, when recorders were, essentially, go-betweens or intermediaries between urban and central government. They were also sources of news. For instance, after the Battle of Stoke in 1487, the York council received notification of Henry VII’s victory from ‘the mouthe of a servaunt of master recorder coming strught from the said field’.

medieval messenger

Some recorders found themselves with unenviable tasks, such as the one in York in 1471 who had to meet Edward IV at the gates of the city to tell him he was not welcome. After the Battle of Tewkesbury a few months later, Edward was, of course, very welcome.

EIV landing Ravenspur - 1471

The recorders’ offices provided consistent and detailed corporation records, especially from the towns of Coventry, York and Norwich, and to a lesser extent from Exeter and Bristol. Recorders had considerable social status, not only in urban politics, but often on the national scene as well, and the rise of their individual careers took many of them to high places. Perhaps the most famous example is Thomas Cromwell, who was recorder at Bristol from 1553-40. Some became attorney-generals and privy councillors, so for a privileged few, becoming a recorder was most certainly a useful rung on a lofty ladder.

Richard III - my composite

York enjoyed special relations with Richard III, who for many years, as Duke of Gloucester, lived in Yorkshire, where he was held in very high regard. The city of York was embroiled in an attempt to reduce its fee-farm (details of the dispute are to be found in L.C. Attreed, York’s Fee Farm and the Central Government). Richard III promised a reduction, but the civic authorities struggled through two more reigns before the matter was settled. Throughout this time, York’s recorders and representatives were involved in the very heart of government.

Good king Richard

The York recorder from 1477-86 was Miles Metcalf, who loaned Richard III £20 on one of the latter’s visits to the city, an act that is thought indicative of his particularly close relations with the king. The man’s later resistance to Tudor rule revealed him to be remained staunch for Richard. Metcalf’s career as recorder is of particular interest. His predecessor, Guy Fairfax, had let it be known that he intended to quit in 1477, and Richard III (Duke of Gloucester at the time) wanted Metcalf to take his place. There was no objection, and on 1st September 1477, Metcalf was ‘unanimously chosen in his [Fairfax’s] place’. Richard, Duke of Gloucester was popular and known to be a fair lord, so presumably this was why his wishes were accepted. And presumably Metcalf was the best man for the job.

Barley Hall, York

Then came 1485, Bosworth, and the usurper Henry VII’s attempts to be rid of Metcalf by nominating a man of his own, Richard Green, who was a counsellor of the Earl of Northumberland. Henry wished Green to be in office “‘unto such tyme as it shall pleas the kings highnesse to call Miles Metcalfe, late occupying the said office unto his grace and favour’.

In the Days of Our Forefathers: Britain Becomes a Maritime Power

Metcalf family loyalty could not be reconciled with the Tudor regime and Henry was particularly scathing in his condemnation, proclaiming that he ‘hath done moch ayenst us which dishableth hyme to exercise things of auctoritie concernyng an hool commonaltie, which by his sedicious means might…and falle to diverse inconvenients’. A proclamation of 24th September 1485 excluded Metcalf and his brother Thomas from a general pardon, although both did receive pardons on 29th November following. Thomas was saved from execution by producing his pardon from the king.”

pardoned

[Henry’s man, Green] “was duly appointed by the city authorities but only on a temporary basis, until Metcalf was restored to favour. However, Green, Northumberland and Henry seem to have assumed that his office was now secured permanently. The city’s authorities procrastinated in clarifying the issue, buying time for the return of senior members of their council and also for the chance to discuss the matter with the Archbishop of York.

“When they reached their decision, it was a rebuff for Henry. The corporation promised to consider the king’s will in the matter and, as a gesture of reconciliation, elected Green as a counsellor. This, they claimed, would give them an opportunity to assess Green’s ‘demeanaunce and lernyng’ until Metcalf died and the vacancy arose.

“After the death of Metcalf on 19th February 1486, both Northumberland and Henry again made their nominations for the vacant position clear. In early March the earl again proposed Green, and the York council again delayed their decision. Even Northumberland’s wife became embroiled in the negotiations, calling before her members of the York hierarchy and urging them to leave the matter of the recorder in abeyance until she came unto York or wrote to the contrary. [She died 27th July 1485, so did not go anywhere. In fact, I do not see how she could have become involved after Metcalf’s death. If at all, it had to be before. Unless her date of death is incorrect.]

4th Northumberland

“By the end of the month the king had put forward the name of Thomas Middleton for the recordership. Perhaps this left the York authorities in an even more delicate position than before, as it would surely have been wholly inappropriate for them to favour one patron’s choice over another’s. This might explain the decision of the York council eventually to appoint John Vavasour, a relatively small political figure. Taken as a whole, such consistent royal interest in the position of recorder reminds us of the importance of the role in communications between the crown and the towns.

“[That this episode] occurred early in Henry VII’s reign may also be instructive with regard to Henry’s rather precarious position as a usurper with little in the way of local support. Henry was clearly very keen to impose his authority in a number of major towns, and regarded the appointment of recorders as an opportune means of achieving this.”

henry-Pietro-Torrigiano-bust

The struggles between York authorities and the crown continued, with the city making plain its determination to act independently, but I will end with Metcalf’s demise.

As Bacon’s oft-quoted assessment of Henry VII goes: ‘…as he governed his subjects by his laws, so he governed his laws by his lawyers’. Tudor oppression increased relentlessly. The entire realm must have regretted the loss of Richard III. York citizens certainly did, because in 1489, in protest against Henry VII’s punitive taxes, they murdered the Earl of Northumberland, who had failed Richard III at Bosworth and become a Tudor toady.

 

A SWORD OF EDWARD IV IN IRELAND

The House of York  always had a strong connection with Ireland. Richard Duke of York and his family lived there from a while, sometimes at the imposing Trim Castle (beloved of movie makers from Excalibur to Braveheart) and sometimes at Dublin Castle where George of Clarence was born.  Later, after the battle of Ludford Bridge, the Duke fled to Ireland with his second son, Edmund, while the elder, Edward, hurried to Calais with the Earl of Warwick.

When Edward IV came to the throne, he kept up the connection, and established a mint at Waterford in Reginald’s Tower.  Richard III also wanted to strengthen ties with Ireland, sending a letter to Thomas Barrett, Bishop of Annaghdown, with instructions as to what sentiments the Bishop must impart in a planned  meeting with James Fitzgerald,  the Earl of Desmond. In his letter to the Bishop, Richard commended the actions of Desmond’s father in assisting the Duke of York, saying he felt ‘inward compassion’ for the fate of the elder Desmond, who had been executed ‘by certain persons having the rule and governence there’.

The Irish remained  favourable to the Yorkist cause  even after Bosworth Field, with the uprisings connected with Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck both having connections to Ireland. Many of the soldiers who fought and died at Stoke Field were Irish.

Ireland still retains some ceremonial items given to the town of Waterford by Edward IV, including a sword and maces. These, along with a charter regarding the mint, can still be viewed in the ‘Medieval Treasures Museum’ in Waterford.

 

edward_sword_300_230_c1

(I feel there could be a trip to the Emerald Isle on the cards sometime soon!)

http://www.waterfordtreasures.com/medieval-museum/whats-inside/sword-of-edward-iv

 

 

 

Views over the site of Stoke Field….

tom-fort-and-punt

Oh, the penalty of working my way through the documentaries available on BBC iPlayer! I keep finding little nuggets of Ricardian interest. Tonight I chose “Crossing England in a Punt: River of Dreams”, the title of which is rather self-explanatory. Explorer Tom Fort punts his way from the birth of the River Trent in Staffordshire to its mouth in the Humber Estuary. Imagine how I sat up when right at the beginning, in the trailer, I spotted a portrait of Henry Tudor . What had he to do with the Trent, I wondered?

Then – ha! Of course. The Trent passes the site of Stoke Field, 1487, when the Earl of Lincoln’s Yorkists were defeated by Henry’s forces. Well, by the Earl of Oxford, actually, Henry didn’t arrive until it was virtually over.

The programme commenced, and was very enjoyable and interesting, but you can imagine how I was filled with eager anticipation when mention was made of Staythorpe Power Station. The Yorkist rebels under John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, and the banners of the so-called Lambert Simnel, were believed to have camped at Staythorpe before the battle, crossing the Trent in the early morning. Surely Tom Fort would mention the battle? After all, he’d mentioned Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Vikings. But no, not a word.

Hope faded as the punt moved on downstream, and I decided that Stoke Field was going to be overlooked. Then, suddenly, there it was. A large chunk of the programme was devoted to the story of the battle, with views over the field. We were shown where the Yorkists took up their positions along a low hill that stretched above the riverbank. When defeat was inevitable, the fleeing Yorkists were so crammed into a gully, pursued by the merciless enemy, that the place ran with blood and is still known as the Red Gutter. Mr Fort didn’t mention Francis Lovell, who is is said to have escaped by swimming his horse across the Trent. Nor the Earl of Lincoln, who was slain in the battle. It is said that Henry had him buried ignominiously and anonymously under a willow tree, with a willow stave through his heart.

So, my friends, if you want to sit in your armchairs and see where the last battle of the Wars of the Roses took place, go to iPlayer and take a look at this documentary. Tom Fort’s words were that it was where the White Rose of York had one final throw of the dice.

Several years ago, when I was researching for chapters of a book that concerned the battle of Stoke Field, I learned that the spring and area of the willow trees where Lincoln, his Landsknecht commander and others were buried so unceremoniously, has now been destroyed to make way for the new A46. There are still pictures of the spring, just before it vanished forever.

For further information about the battle and the area where it took place, the following links are useful:-

https://content.historicengland.org.uk/content/docs/battlefields/stoke.pdf

http://legacy.newarkadvertiser.co.uk/articles/news/Spring-that-ran-red-runs-dry

http://meanderingthroughtime.weebly.com/wars-of-the-roses-blog/battle-of-stoke-16th-june-1487

http://nottsvillages.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/east-stoke.html

Echoes of Minster Lovell?

In 1708, a skeleton is supposed to have been found in a secret chamber of the ruins of Minster Lovell Hall. The legend is that this pertains to Francis, Viscount Lovell, who was known to have fought at Stoke Field in 1487, suggesting that he may have fled back to his home to hide and suffocated as a result.

There are two complications with this legend:
1) Lovell was granted a safe conduct to Scotland on 19 June 1488 by James IV, whose reign had begun just eight days earlier, after his father’s defeat and death in the Sauchieburn rebellion. This does not prove that Lovell ever left for Scotland, indeed it could even have been a bluff on James’ part, implying that the Yorkist adherent was still alive to foment further resistance in England.
2) Minster Lovell Hall had been in the hands of Jasper “Tudor”, Duke of Bedford, for almost two years, making it very difficult for Francis to just stroll into his former home undetected for a game of sardines.

The New York Times and the Smithsonian website here have introduced a very similar case. A skeleton has been found at Leine Castle in Germany and will undergo DNA testing in case it is Count Philip Christoph Konigsmarck, the lover of Sophia Dorothea of Celle and a Swedish nobleman who was last seen in 1694. It is thought that the future George I, Sophia Dorothea’s husband then known as Georg Ludwig, caused or ordered Konigsmarck’s death.

blue_plaque_of_francis_lovell

1694 was the year that Mary II died without issue but her husband William III was still to live for eight years. He didn’t remarry but could have done. His sister-in-law Anne was still alive with at least one of her children. The Act of Settlement, which excluded Catholic claimants was not passed until 1701, so James VII/II’s son (James Francis Edward) and youngest daughter (Louisa Maria Teresa) still arguably had claims to the British thrones, as did Sophie, Electress of Hanover, who was Georg Ludwig’s elderly mother and only predeceased Anne by a few months in 1714.

In 1694, Georg was possibly seventh in line and could have been relegated further had William III had children by another wife or Anne’s children survived for longer. The events of the next twenty years, although all natural or legislative, were almost of Kind Hearts and Coronets proportions.

Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of Mr Warbeck

Giaconda's Blog

sherlock head

Sherlock and Watson are on a case. They have time travelled back to the C15th to try and uncover the truth behind the mysterious disappearance of the ‘Princes in the Tower’ but the trail has gone cold with multiple possibilities and suspects, if they were indeed murdered at all. Sherlock hopes to find new clues about their fate in the legend of Perkin Warbeck.

Rain is falling and a dank mist rising off the river as Sherlock and Watson emerge from the precincts of the Tower and make their way along the web of lanes which lead to the area known as the ‘minories’.

Sherlock wraps his great coat around him to keep out the chill air. Watson looks wary. There are thieves in the shadows and a drunken brawl going on in one of the ale houses nearby.

‘Where now then?’ askes Watson.

‘Deeper into our net of intrigue, Watson.’ Sherlock…

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