Warwick: The Man Behind The Wars of the Roses

by Tony Riches

  ‘You know, George, I think he turned his face to the wall. John has spent too long fighting for Edward to take him on.’

  ‘So what’s our plan?’

  ‘The Duke of Clarence is on his way here with an army. I believe I can persuade John to bring his men from the north, then we’ll need as many men as we can find from Kent and Wales and all the able bodied men we can rally here.’

  George understood. ‘Edward will have three armies to face.’

  ‘It’s time to call in all my favours and find out who supports our cause.’

  ‘I think it could prove harder than you expect.’ George’s face was grim. ‘The Lancastrian families have long memories, Richard. More than a few have lost fathers in battles against your armies. Even your own men will find their loyalty tested when they are asked to risk their lives to defend a king they no longer believe in and fight one they helped put on the throne.’

  Richard had to resort to threats and generous bribes and promises to raise even half as many men as he would have liked. He waited as long as he dared then set out north with several thousand men from the midlands. As they neared the old walled city of Coventry rumours began to reach him that Edward’s army was close by. It seemed a prudent move to withdraw within the city walls until his brother’s men arrived or the rumours were proved false. He was settling down for the evening when Tully called for him.

  ‘My lord, you have to come and see this.’

  Richard looked at him with a puzzled expression. ‘What is it, Tully? Has my brother’s army been sighted?’

  ‘You had best come and see for yourself, my lord.’

  Richard followed Luke Tully up the stone steps to the top of the city wall to look. Edward’s army had come right up to them and was arrayed in battle order outside the city walls. In the centre of the row of mounted knights was the tall, unmistakable figure of Edward, in full armour. To his left was a knight holding high the banner of York. On his right was another carrying the royal standard. Edward’s pretence was over. Now he was openly claiming his throne.

  For three days Richard resisted the challenge to fight, waiting for either George or his brother John to arrive with reinforcements. Then the York army disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived, followed closely by the appearance at last of John from Pontefract Castle with his army of archers and northern knights. John had also brought his great cannons to add to Richard’s artillery. At last they had an army capable of taking London.

  They decided to wait in Coventry for the arrival of George, Duke of Clarence, when his messenger rode to the gate under a flag of truce. The duke had joined Edward with his army of men raised in the cause of Lancaster, every one of them now ready to fight for York. As a final insult, Edward had taken Warwick Castle unopposed and was making it his headquarters. Richard was unable to control his anger and loudly cursed the day he had ever thought George would be a suitable husband for his daughter Isabel. His brother John tried to calm him.

  ‘The Duke of Clarence has offered to broker a peace with Edward.’ He held the letter in his hand which could save so many lives and change the future course of events. ‘He says he can secure us all a royal pardon, Richard.’

  Richard took the letter and ripped it in two. ‘There’s his answer.’ He threw the torn pieces to the floor.

  John frowned at his brother and spoke softly, almost to himself. ‘I hope we’ve enough men to take on both Edward and George’s armies.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘My guess is we have no more than twelve or fifteen thousand men between us. I’d have liked twice that many by now. We’ll have to manage with what we’ve got.’

  ‘It’s going to be close.’

  ‘That’s why we can’t waste one more day.’ Richard agreed. ‘We have to take the initiative and reach London first.’

  John looked out of the window at the sky. ‘Let us hope the weather holds. I hate marching in the rain.’

  They set off late in the morning in full armour and soon had the news that Edward had already taken London unopposed. His army had marched into the city that day to the cheers of the Londoners. Edward had immediately taken King Henry back into custody and set about preparing for war. He was now said to be rallying men to his cause and proclaiming Richard and those who followed his banner as traitors in league with France.

  There were also rumours that the Archbishop of York had pledged allegiance to Edward and received a royal pardon. Richard struggled to conceal his disappointment. It would be impossible to take Edward on in London now. He remembered the nightmare of fighting in the streets of the city before, charging down narrow streets, never sure who was friend or enemy. They could only stand any chance if he was certain of the support of the people and by all accounts they had rallied to Edward’s cause.

  He gathered his commanders in his tent and spread out the map. Well drawn, it showed all the main approaches to the city.

  ‘We must choose where to make our stand.’ He saw their tense faces. ‘We have more men than them, so let’s learn the lessons of St. Albans and meet them on open ground.’ He pointed to the map. ‘We need enough time to prepare.’

  By that evening they arrived in Barnet, about one mile to the north of the city. Lookouts were posted and scouts sent ahead to try to find out where Edward’s army had got to. The scouts soon returned with grim news. Edward was already on the outskirts of Barnet with over ten thousand men, taking up position close to a marsh in the valley to the south of their camp. Richard rode to their forward position with Tully and scanned the darkness.

  ‘I can’t see a thing!’ Richard looked up at the black sky. There was no moon.

  ‘They are out there close by somewhere, my lord.’ Tully squinted into the night. ‘We could spoil their night’s sleep with the guns?’

  Richard agreed. ‘We’ve dragged those cannons all this way, let’s show them why.’

  The first of the guns boomed across the valley with a blinding flash of light, followed by a second, then a third. His gunnery captain, a thick set veteran of the northern sieges, looked into the night. There was no sound from across the valley, just the drifting smell of sulphur in the still air.

  ‘It’s no use, my lord. We can’t find the range.’

  ‘We’ve given them something to think about. Keep the guns here and have your crews standing ready at first light.’

  The gunnery captain went to tell his men. Richard heard a rider approaching from the rear and turned to see his brother John, who had been overseeing the deployment of his men. He dismounted and joined Richard, peering into the darkness.

  ‘How far away do we think they are?’

  Richard turned to him. ‘There’s no way of telling. Have your lookouts stay sharp and ready to sound the alarm.’

  He woke at dawn after a restless night. Strange sounds kept him alert during the night and he lay awake, turning over recent events in his mind. Easter Sunday was normally a day spent in peaceful prayer. For a moment Richard wondered if that offered a chance of reconciliation, then dismissed the thought. They had passed the point of no return. He looked out over the fields of Barnet. They were wreathed in damp, early morning mist, filling the valley with an ethereal, swirling, whiteness that hid everything from sight.

  Tully was already dressed in his mail coat and helped Richard strap on his armour.

  ‘They are close, my lord. You can hear their voices in the valley.’

  Richard listened. He heard horses neighing, muffled voices and metal objects clanging as men prepared for battle. The early morning mist made sounds seem to travel more clearly, although he found it hard to judge the distance and direction.

  ‘Quickly, then. Let’s be ready for them when they come.’ He strapped on his sword belt. ‘I want you to watch my back, Tully.’

  ‘Don’t I always, my lord?’ Tully grinned. ‘I’ve been watching your back since you were fifteen!’

  Richard looked at Tully and smiled. Tully was the one person whose loyalty he had never qu
estioned. The loss of his brother George to Edward’s cause had affected him more deeply than he’d expected. If his brother John also decided to defect to Edward, it would mean the end.

  ‘You do, Tully, and I thank you.’ Richard put on his helmet and raised the visor. ‘Let’s go and finish this!’

  Trumpets sounded eerily in the swirling mist as Edward’s archers unleashed a storm of arrows, taking Richard’s men by surprise. Some were still putting on their armour, others were tending the horses. The arrows struck home to the yells of men who were wounded. Then a salvo of Yorkist bombards roared in the early morning air. Heavy stone balls crashed into the lines of men and horses, breaking bones and crushing heads and deadly iron shot shredded flesh not protected with armour.

  Edward’s army stormed forward up the slope, closing the gap between the two armies and seemingly oblivious to the deadly arrows of Richard’s hastily assembled archers. Richard gave the signal to his gunnery captain and the heavy cannons they had dragged half way across the country unleashed a hail of shot. This time there was no question of the range and each blast cut a swathe through the advancing men.

  On Richard’s right flank the men-at-arms under the command of his brother-in law the Earl of Oxford pushed back against the Yorkist left, swiftly driving them from the field. Then there was a disaster. The earl’s soldiers were caught in a shower of arrows from their own side, confused for Edward’s men by their badge of a star that looked like the York badge of a sun with rays. Men fell dead and dying. Others fled in panic.

  Richard rallied his men. ‘Stand firm!’ He shouted, looking for his brother John.

  There in the thick of the fighting was his brother’s banner, still flying. Close by was another, the banner of the white boar. He was saddened to realise that Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who John had taught to fight at Middleham Castle, was now using those skills against his teacher. The young duke pressed his army forward, followed by the knights on warhorses, charging into the fighting men with sharp pointed lances and swinging broadswords and war axes without mercy. Even as Richard watched, his brother’s banner disappeared from view.

  ‘Tully!’ Richard shouted, ‘We have to help my brother!’

  With Tully at his side they hacked and slashed through the press of men towards where he had last seen John’s banner. The men of his personal guard fought bravely, cutting a path through the battlefield before they were surrounded by Edward’s knights. One was speared by a lance and another had his helmet shattered by a war hammer. Tully narrowly missed a swinging mace, then pulled Richard out of the path of a riderless horse with wild eyes that stamped iron hooves on men in its path.

  They had been fighting since dawn and the sun was nearly overhead, burning off the morning mist to reveal the scale of the carnage. Dead and badly wounded men in the red of Warwick lay scattered on the field. Richard spotted the unmistakably tall figure of King Edward, fighting in the thick of the battle, killing and driving all before him.

  Richard felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw his line was broken through, the hordes of Yorkist soldiers putting an end to his dreams. His men started to run. First one threw down his sword, then another. Those who stood their ground were shown no favour, brutally slain with savage war axes that crushed their plate armour as if it were made of paper.

  A soldier limped towards him clutching his red banner of the bear and ragged staff. A hail of arrows flew through the air and the standard bearer realised too late they were aiming at the banner. An arrow thumped into his chest, spinning him round and causing the banner to crash to the ground. A rousing cheer went up from the York archers as they saw the end of the House of Warwick.

  As the sun rose to its height the battle was over. Richard looked back to where he had left his horse. If he was quick there was still a chance to escape. He could ride to the coast and find a ship to the safety of Calais. He would have to run. He pulled off the heavy helmet that obscured his view and threw it to the ground. Three knights surrounded him. Richard’s blade slashed through the air and wounded one. The other two showed no mercy. Richard sank to his knees, mortally wounded. He pulled off his gauntlets and pressed his hand to the wound. Blood ran through his fingers and he looked to the sky, into the glorious shining sun.

  William Shakespeare: King Henry the Sixth

  Act V. Scene II

  A field of Battle near Barnet.

  These eyes, that now are dimmed with death's black veil,

  Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,

  To search the secret treasons of the world:

  The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,

  Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres;

  For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?

  And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow?

  Lo! now my glory smear'd in dust and blood;

  My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,

  Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands

  Is nothing left me but my body's length.

  Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?

  And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

  Epilogue

  Luke Tully was wounded in the battle. His life was spared, as were many of the common men who surrendered to the mercy of the king, and he found Richard’s body and that of his brother John. They had been stripped of their armour and were taken in a cart to be put on public display at St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was important for Edward to prove Richard was really dead, so there they remained for two days in open wooden coffins before George Neville was able to take them on their final journey to join their parents at Bisham Abbey.

  Richard’s wife Anne returned to Portsmouth from France and was on route to join Queen Margaret and her daughter Anne at Weymouth when she was told of her husband’s death at the battle of Barnet. She went instead to Beaulieu Abbey, where she begged for sanctuary.

  King Edward effectively ended Lancastrian resistance at the Battle of Tewkesbury in 1471, where those who were executed included the teenage son of Henry VI, Prince Edward. King Henry met an ignominious end in the Tower of London shortly afterwards, allegedly of ‘pure displeasure and melancholy’.

  Richard Neville’s lands were shared between Edward’s brothers George, Duke of Clarence and Richard, Duke of Gloucester, as well as other favourites at his court. George was made Earl of Warwick, as well as Earl of Salisbury. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, married Anne Neville in 1472 and her father’s illegitimate daughter Margaret became her lady in waiting.

  Tully eventually found his way back to the household at Middleham Castle. He was there when the entire estate was granted to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who made it his main residence, even when he became King of England. This was how Luke Tully found himself wearing the badge of the white boar on a fateful day at Bosworth Field.

  Author Notes

  It can be a challenge for the reader of historical fiction to understand which events are based on fact and which are pure fiction. I have tried through my extensive research to ensure that all the events, people and places named in this novel are based on historical facts, verifiable from several sources.

  The only exceptions are the two people who play important roles in Richard’s life, his loyal squire and his mistress. Richard Neville had several squires throughout his life yet their names are lost. There are many accounts of how he surrounded himself with men who would lay down their lives to protect him, so Luke Tully represents them all. I thought I had discovered the name of the mother of Richard’s illegitimate daughter Margaret, then found it couldn’t be verified, so unlike the biographies where she vanishes into the background, I have been able to suggest the important part she played in Richard’s early life.

  In the course of the research for this book I enjoyed learning about the lives of people in the fifteenth century and the chance discoveries that bring it all to life. One such ‘find’ was the exploration of the life of Richard’s daughter Margaret. I read that one
of her descendants had a certain notoriety and with a little digging I managed to establish the line of descent:

  Richard Nevill. By an unknown woman he had issue:

  Margaret Neville, She married Sir John Huddleston of Teesdale and had issue:

  Joan Huddleston married Antony Fleming and had issue:

  Antony Fleming of Rydel, d.1537. He had issue:

  William Fleming of Rydel, d.1598. He had issue:

  Eleanor Fleming married John Lowther d.1637 and had issue:

  Agnes Lowther married Roger Kirkby and had issue:

  William Kirkby of Aslack married unknown and had issue:

  Eleanor Kirky married Humphrey Senhouse and had issue:

  Bridget Senhouse, b.1696 in Deerham and died 1744. She married John Christian (b.1688) and had issue:

  Charles Christian, b.1729 and d.1768. He married Anne Dixon (b.1730) and had issue:

  Fletcher Christian, b.SEP 25 1764 and d.OCT 3 1793.

  (I like to think that some of Richard Neville’s character shines through in Fletcher Christian’s actions as the anti-hero of the mutiny on the Bounty.)

  Sources and Further reading

  Baumgaertner, Wm. E., Squires, Knights, Barons, Kings: War and Politics in Fifteenth Century England, (Trafford Publishing 2010)

  Betham, William, The Baronetage of England: Or The History of the English Baronets (Nabu Press 2012)

  Boardman, Andrew, The Medieval Soldier in the Wars of the Roses (Sutton Publishing, 1998)

  Castor, Helen, Blood and Roses (Faber & Faber 2005)

  Clark, David, Barnet -1471 Death of a Kingmaker (Pen and Sword Military 2007)