by Charles Ross
The death of Charles VII on 22 July 1461 raised Edward’s hopes, for the new king, Louis XI, had been on bad terms with his father, and had shown some sympathy to the Yorkist cause. At first the change of ruler seemed to work in Edward’s favour: de Brézé was temporarily disgraced, and the war preparations were halted. But Louis soon began to pursue the subtle and baffling policies which became characteristic of him, playing off one side against the other in England, and rapidly creating a tension and uncertainty about his intentions. As his envoys were rebuffed, Edward’s suspicions grew, especially as early in 1462 Louis seemed to move towards a definite rapprochement with his Lancastrian kinsmen.1
The fears produced in England by this apparent danger from France were exaggerated, for Louis hoped to keep England weak and divided rather than to secure the triumph of either side, but it was taken seriously enough both by government and popular opinion. Edward himself found it convenient to dwell upon the perils of the situation as a means of getting loans from the Londoners. In a letter of 13 March 1462 to the London alderman Thomas Cook, he spoke of a fearful alliance between Lancaster and England’s foreign enemies, which would bring upon the realm ‘such war, depopulation and robbery and manslaughter as here before hath not been used among Christian people’; they would seek to extinguish ‘the people, the name, the tongue and the blood English of this our said realm’.2 Behind such calculated alarmism his real fear was shown in extensive defence measures. In the early months of 1462 watches were set and beacons manned along the south and south-east coasts; commissions to array all able-bodied men were issued in Kent; ships were seized in the Bristol Channel to provide against a descent on Wales; and preparations were made for the earl of Warwick to go to sea with a patrolling squadron in the Channel.3 Edward’s own subjects scarcely needed their king to exaggerate their fears. Early in 1462 a contemporary writer reported a vast international conspiracy against England, involving an invasion by half the princes of Western Europe with hundreds of thousands of men at their backs.4 Confessions made by French prisoners taken off the East Coast spoke of vast joint French and Spanish naval preparations in the Seine, and the imminent death of England’s friend, Duke Philip of Burgundy, by poison.5
There are good reasons for emphasizing the extent of domestic disorder and disaffection, and the degree of alarm and apprehension felt by Edward’s subjects, during the first twelve months of his reign. The danger lay in the explosive potential of the situation. With a disturbed and uneasy country behind them, even a minor defeat at the hands of the Lancastrians might have proved disastrous for the new regime. This also provides part of the explanation for the government’s difficulties in Wales and the north, and the success of limited Lancastrian forces in maintaining themselves in these regions. Still insecure even in the south and midlands, and unable to ignore the risk of attack from abroad, Edward could not venture on major operations in the more remote areas of the realm. It is against this background that the story of Lancastrian resistance in the north and Wales must be seen.
(ii) The Lancastrian Resistance, 1461–1464
In spite of the strength of Lancastrian sympathies in Yorkshire, the county offered no resistance to Edward after Towton. After a leisurely three weeks in York, the king moved north to Durham, where he arrived on 22 April 1461. There he attempted to win the goodwill of the bishop, Lawrence Booth, whom he appointed his confessor, although Booth had previously had very close associations with Queen Margaret. Here again we have evidence of Edward’s wish to conciliate. Anyone who showed a willingness to cooperate was given his chance, whatever the risks implied by his previous record. From Durham Edward moved on to Newcastle to attend the execution of his father’s arch-enemy, James Butler, earl of Ormond and Wiltshire. Thence he abruptly turned west for a progress through Lancashire, Cheshire, and parts of the north midlands which had shown strong sympathy for Henry VI and Margaret.1 The problem of subduing the hostile county of Northumberland, where the word of a Percy counted for more than the king’s command, was left to his Nevill kinsmen and lieutenants. Not for the last time in these early years, Edward showed his reluctance to be drawn away to the extreme north. Probably he felt that his presence was more urgently needed further south, but an opportunity was missed for asserting the royal authority in Northumberland whilst he still had large forces at his back.
The key to the northern problem now lay in the attitude of Scotland. King James II, attempting to exploit English weakness, had been killed on 3 August 1460 by the explosion of one of his bombards whilst besieging Roxburgh Castle. His widow, Mary of Guelders, the new regent, was pressed by her uncle, the duke of Burgundy, to support the Yorkist cause, but was dissuaded from this by the most influential person in Scottish politics, James Kennedy, bishop of St Andrews. After Towton, Scotland offered a refuge to the fleeing Henry and Margaret, and by 25 April they had reached an agreement with Mary of Guelders, whereby the Scots promised military aid in return for the cession to them of the coveted border fortress of Berwick, a bribe which even Mary could not resist. Edward’s response to the Scots démarche was twofold. Friendly overtures in the hope of persuading the Scots government to give up the Lancastrians were matched by efforts to stir up trouble within Scotland. James II’s enemies, the earl of Douglas and his brother, then in exile in England, were commissioned in June 1461 to make an approach to other disaffected lords, especially the powerful earl of Ross, lord of the Outer Isles, and his kinsman, Donald Balloch, in the hope that together they could foment a successful rebellion in Scotland.1 But for the moment the attitude of the Scots had to be reckoned a serious threat to northern England. Early in June a combined force of Scots and Lancastrian exiles raided Carlisle: this caused great alarm in the south, but John Nevill, Lord Montagu, had no difficulty in raising the siege. The end of the month saw another surprise raid. Lords Roos, Dacre and Rougemont-Grey, taking Henry VI with them, slipped across the border to the earl of Westmorland’s castle at Brancepeth in south Durham, where they raised the Lancastrian standard, but with little success. They were dispersed without difficulty by Bishop Booth of Durham and local levies.2
During all this time the government seems to have had no effective authority in Northumberland. Garrisons of 120 men in Newcastle under Lord Fauconberg and of 40 men in Tynemouth under Sir George Lumley marked the frontier of Yorkist control. No attempt to reduce the county to submission was made until after Warwick had been appointed, on 31 July 1461, to the wardenship of both the East and West Marches towards Scotland.3 By mid-September the Nevill lords had managed to gain the submission of the great Percy stronghold of Alnwick, and a Yorkist constable was appointed to hold it with 100 men. Soon after, the coastal fortress of Dunstanborough submitted also, but its Lancastrian constable, Sir Ralph Percy, was allowed to remain in command. His record scarcely inspired confidence in his future loyalty. This younger son of Henry Percy, 2nd earl of Northumberland, had seen his father killed fighting the Yorkists at St Albans in 1455, and his elder brother, the 3rd earl, killed at Towton and attainted, whilst his nephew, later the 4th earl, was a prisoner in the Tower. Ralph himself had been appointed by Henry VI in 1457 and had served on Lancastrian commissions as late as June 1460.1 To allow a key fortress to remain in the control of a man like this shows how precarious was the royal authority in a countryside where the cooperation of the Percies and their followers was essential. The general uncertainty of the position in the far north first became clear in the winter of 1461–2 when the Lancastrian William Tailboys recaptured Alnwick, and another unreconciled rebel, Humphrey, Lord Dacre of Gilsland, re-established himself in his family fortress of Naworth, near Carlisle.1 The best hope of more solid success in this region seemed to lie in the growing willingness of Mary of Guelders to make a truce with Edward, and thereby cut off aid and refuge from the Lancastrians across the Border.2
Similar problems faced the new government in Wales. Especially in West Wales, Lancastrian loyalties were strong, and Jasper Tudor, earl of Pembroke, had considerabl
e influence. On the morrow of Towton several strong castles, including Pembroke, Harlech and Denbigh, were still held for Henry VI. Operations for the subjugation of Wales resembled those in the north in that the king played little direct part and they were delegated to lieutenants, notably the able and ambitious William Herbert, who soon emerged as the driving-force and central figure of Yorkist government in Wales and the Marches. Attempts to bring Wales to order were delayed until the return of the king and his chief lords from the north in June 1461. On 8 July 1461, William Herbert and Sir Walter Devereux were authorized to raise men in the border counties and preparations were begun to assemble a fleet in support, and in August the king’s subjects in the Marches and the south-west were urged to raise troops at their own expense against the rebels in Wales.3 At first it was intended that the king should lead his army in person: his tents, ordnance and some ready cash were sent on ahead to await his arrival at Hereford, where an army was to muster on 8 September.4
Edward made his journey to the Marches the occasion for one of those royal provincial progresses which are a feature of his early years. He left London early in August, in the company of the earl of Essex, Lord Hastings, and some of the judges, and made a leisurely journey by way of Canterbury, Sandwich, Arundel and Salisbury to Bristol, where he arrived on 4 September. There he presided in person over the trial of the West Country rebel, Sir Baldwin Fulford, who was executed on 9 September: his head was to remain impaled in the market-place at Exeter until March 1463, when it was removed because ‘it daily falleth down’ among the feet of the citizens.5 But already Edward had changed his mind about taking personal command of the Welsh campaign. As one of his entourage, probably the earl of Essex, reported from Bristol, his plan was now to go to Ludlow, and there to remain until it was time to return to Westminster for the opening of his first parliament on 4 November, and this forecast proved accurate.1 Again Edward displayed a reluctance to take part in military operations in the distant parts of his realm, and the pattern was to be repeated over and over again in these early years. Some of his contemporaries believed that the king’s love of ease and pleasure lay behind this distaste for campaigning, but it is much more likely that in the autumn of 1461 he was unwilling to postpone any longer the opening of parliament, where his personal presence was necessary.
In the event his absence made little difference to the conduct of the campaign in Wales. William Herbert and his friends moved with vigour to eliminate the main centres of Lancastrian resistance in the Principality. Although strongly fortified, victualled and manned, Pembroke Castle surrendered to him on 30 September 1461. Moving north, he defeated Jasper Tudor, Henry, duke of Exeter, and the main body of Welsh Lancastrians at Twt Hill just outside Caernarvon on 16 October. Denbigh Castle gave itself up by January 1462. But the country as a whole was far from reconciled to Yorkist rule, especially the west, where the castle of Carreg Cennen held out until May 1462. The great fortress of Harlech showed no disposition to surrender, and, lacking the will or the resources to mount a regular set siege, the government allowed this nest of rebels to survive and prey upon the surrounding countryside for several years. Rebellion was never far from the surface, and Wales remained an area obviously vulnerable to a Lancastrian seaborne invasion.2
Meanwhile, the royal government renewed its efforts to persuade the Scots to abandon their support for the Lancastrian cause. The negotiations begun in 1461 with the Scots dissidents now bore fruit. In March 1462 Edward ratified a treaty with Ross and Balogh which pledged them to make war on James III in return for annuities and a share in any conquests to be made; soon after, Ross began to devastate Atholl in northern Perthshire.3 Freed from the embarrassing presence of Margaret of Anjou (now seeking help in France), Mary of Guelders seemed willing to negotiate, and there was even a suggestion that she might marry the young Edward of York, but the negotiations were frustrated by the bishop of St Andrews. The earl of Warwick now stepped up the pressure by launching raids into Scotland, and recovered one of the Border fortresses. Faced by danger both from north and south, Mary agreed to a short truce to last from June to the end of August 1462. This in turn enabled Edward’s lieutenants to strengthen his position near the Border. Naworth was recovered from Lord Dacre, and in July Alnwick Castle surrendered after a siege by Lord Hastings, Sir John Howard and Sir Ralph Grey.1
These modest Yorkist gains were soon in jeopardy as Margaret of Anjou made her most determined effort to challenge the rival dynasty. Disillusioned by Scotland’s uncertain support, she left for France in April 1462 in an attempt to win the committed backing of her powerful kinsman, Louis XI. At first she was successful. Tempted by her willingness to cede Calais to him, Louis concluded a secret agreement with her at Chinon (24 June 1462), later amplified in the Truce of Tours (28 June), whereby he promised to lend her money and released her friend de Brézé to raise an army and accompany her back to Scotland.2 His enthusiasm soon cooled when the duke of Burgundy refused to allow the passage of French troops through his dominions, thus preventing access to Calais, and he was further alarmed by the activities of an English naval squadron under the earl of Kent which raided the Breton coast in August 1462. His effective support for Margaret did not materialize, and when she left for Scotland in October she could take only 800 men, and even these seem to have been paid for by de Brézé. With this modest force she eventually set sail for Scotland, to collect Henry VI, and landed near Bamborough Castle on 25 October.3
Yet her mere return immediately emphasized the dangers of the Yorkist policy of entrusting the northern fortresses to men of doubtful loyalty. Bamborough speedily opened its gates, and Alnwick and Dunstanborough soon followed suit, ‘by the which castles’ (as a chronicler observed) ‘they had the most part of Northumberland’.4 For lack of accurate intelligence, Edward may have overestimated the forces at the disposal of the rebels, but his alarm is reflected in the vigour of his reaction. He at once made preparations to leave London for the north, and set about summoning to his side almost the entire nobility of England: one immediately contemporary source names 2 dukes, 7 earls, 31 barons and 59 knights as being in his company.5 There were also substantial northern levies which Warwick had been commissioned to raise on 6 November. Another contemporary source claimed that ‘our men be in all estimation between 30 and 40 thousand without the King and his host’, and, even if we discount the usual exaggeration in such medieval estimates, it is clear that an impressive force was brought together.1 Alarmed by these rapid preparations, and perhaps disappointed by the lack of any general support from the northern lords and gentry, Margaret decided her strength was not sufficient to risk any engagement. Leaving garrisons in the Northumbrian fortresses, she took ship for Scotland on 13 November. Winter storms scattered her fleet, and although Margaret herself, with Henry VI and de Brézé, reached Berwick in safety, some of her French soldiers were driven ashore at Lindisfarne and were there overwhelmed by Yorkist forces.2 Her withdrawal gave the royal army the chance to invest and blockade all three rebel strongholds. Edward himself had reached York by 19 November, and moved on to Durham, only to fall ill with measles.3 Overall command of the sieges therefore fell to the earl of Warwick, who supervised operations by means of a daily round on horseback from a base in the Percy fortress of Warkworth. More than a dozen Yorkist noblemen were dispersed in command of the separate besieging forces. Though the royal army had ordnance in plenty, no attempt was made to bombard the three castles into surrender, and frontal assault was out of the question against formidable fortifications. Instead, the royal army relied upon blockade to starve the garrisons out. The defenders in their turn hoped for a relief army from Scotland. A Scottish force under the earl of Angus and de Brézé was already moving south shortly before Christmas, a fact known to Edward and his commanders; but this intelligence did not reach the defenders of Dunstanborough and Bamborough (by now reduced to eating their horses) in time to prevent their making a conditional offer to surrender, on Christmas Eve 1462. The leading defenders, in
cluding the duke of Somerset and Sir Ralph Percy, were then escorted to the king’s presence at Durham.4
There now followed one of those political blunders which mars Edward’s record as a statesman. Somerset and his friends were accepted into the king’s obedience, and the rebel duke soon found himself assisting Warwick at the siege of Alnwick against his former allies. Even more surprising is Edward’s willingness to accept the demand made by the besieged garrisons, as a condition of surrender, that the turncoat Sir Ralph Percy should be restored to the command of both Dunstanborough and Bamborough as, soon as he had sworn allegiance to Edward. Shortly after, Percy was commissioned to receive repentant rebels into the king’s grace at his discretion, a power normally given only to men of unquestioned loyalty. This latter decision seems to have been made by the king with the advice of the council, but probably did not reflect the attitude of the earl of Warwick, whose record of ruthlessness towards his defeated enemies suggests that their fate would have been very different had the choice been his.1 The king’s treatment of Somerset and Percy can only be explained by a combination of his natural generosity and gross over-confidence in his own personal charm as a means of winning the committed loyalty of even the most hardened enemy. But nothing in the record of either Somerset or Percy seems to justify Edward in placing such trust in them; and events soon proved how serious had been his miscalculation.
With Bamborough and Dunstanborough in Yorkist hands within two days after Christmas, the royal forces, still under Warwick’s command, were now re-deployed before Alnwick. But on 5 January 1463 de Brézé and the Scots earl of Angus appeared in the neighbourhood with a substantial force. For reasons which are difficult to understand, Warwick failed to offer battle, withdrew his men from their siege positions, and allowed the hard-pressed garrison under Lord Hungerford to march out of the fortress in full view of the Yorkist army. Warwick was always a defensively-minded general, but it may be that his failure to challenge the Scots was influenced by the low morale of his troops. The chronicler John Warkworth tells us that ‘they had lain there so long in the field, and were grieved with cold and rain, that they had no courage to fight’, and stringent measures had already proved necessary to prevent desertion.2 As the Scots and the defenders of Alnwick withdrew unmolested over the Border, one immediately contemporary critic expressed his disillusionment: