by Licence, Amy
On 1 August 1485, Henry Tudor set sail from Harfleur and landed at Milford Haven six days later, with an army of exiles and French mercenaries. According to Fabyan, he knelt down ‘and with meke countenaunce and pure deuotion’, recited a psalm ‘and kissed the ground mekely, and reuerently made the signe of the crosse upon him’, then ‘he commaunded soche as wer about him, boldly in the name of God and S. George to set forwarde’. Nearby was Sir William Herbert, of Raglan Castle. Herbert was the son of Henry’s old guardian, Earl of Pembroke, on whose estates the boy had grown up. William was six years his elder and must have known the young Tudor since their teenage years, when he had been intended as a husband for William’s sister, Maude. Henry may have hoped to find support from his guardian’s son. However, the previous year, Herbert had married Richard’s illegitimate daughter Katherine, for which he received an annual payment that nearly doubled his income. Charles Ross has suggested that it was probably an agent of Herbert who brought news of Tudor’s landing to the king.
Croyland claimed that Richard had been uncertain ‘at what port [Tudor] intended to effect a landing’, so ‘betook himself to the North’, leaving Francis Lovell in the vicinity of Southampton. The chronicler dates this to shortly before the feast of Pentecost, which fell that year on 22 May. The Court Rolls can provide some answers which disprove Croyland’s time-scale. Richard was at Westminster as late as 1 August, after which he proceeded to Nottingham. The news reached him at the castle there, ten days later. At once he sent out messengers to summon his lords to rendezvous, with their armies, at Leicester, although he did not arrive there himself until 20 August. Fabyan says Richard ‘gathered his power in all haste’, while Croyland believed him to have been complacent, rejoicing as the ‘long wished-for day had arrived, for him to triumph with ease over so contemptible a faction’, resulting in ‘uninterrupted tranquillity’ for the kingdom. Both chroniclers wrote with the benefit of hindsight. In 1485, the king prepared himself as best he knew how, as a seasoned commander, with experience from battles such as Edgecote and Tewkesbury. In Leicester, he was reputed to have stayed at the old Blue Boar, or White Boar Inn, also known as King Richard’s House, which was the city’s ‘principal hostelry’. Legend has it that the populace tore down the sign after the battle that August and the whole building was pulled down in 1836.2 From Leicester, he led the royal forces west, where they camped upon Ambion Hill, near Bosworth Field, and lay down to rest for the night.
Shakespeare’s depiction of Richard’s terrible nightmares before the battle is well known. Describing herself as ‘wretched’, the ghost of Anne appears in order to curse her husband, with whom she ‘never slept a quiet hour’. The spectral presence of supposed victims, speaking their allegations and curses, was a common literary device, which the Bard also used in Julius Caesar, written in the same year as Richard III, and later in Macbeth and Hamlet. Medieval Catholicism explained the existence of ghosts as souls trapped in purgatory, who could manifest in order to ensure that justice was done. The Protestant view, though, relevant for the context in which Shakespeare wrote, was that purgatory and, therefore, ghosts, did not exist; instead, these would be seen as devils, sent to taunt and alarm the living. These two interpretations, polarised along religious lines, correspond with the most dichotomic views of Richard’s life and reign. According to one, he is the murderer troubled by his crimes; on the other side, he is a pious, responsible ruler on the eve of a critical battle, struggling against forces of evil.
Where exactly did the story of the nightmares originate? More’s history does not cover the battle and neither the London chronicler, Fabyan, nor the Ballad of Bosworth Field poem mention them. The account appears first in the Croyland Chronicle, written in April 1486. According to this source, Richard declared he had ‘seen dreadful visions’ and imagined himself ‘surrounded by a multitude of daemons’. Apparently, this made his usually ‘attenuated’ face ‘more livid and ghastly than usual’. Recording these events only months after the marriage of Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York, Croyland is keen to state the godlessness and general disorder of the losing side, which lacked any chaplain ‘to perform divine service’ or anyone to prepare breakfast ‘to refresh the flagging spirits of the king’. Similar stories are repeated by Polydore Vergil, who had completed a draft of his history by 1513, although it was not published for twenty years. Vergil adds that Richard was mindful of his troops, ‘refresshy[ng] his soldiers that night from ther travale, and with many woords exhortyd them to the fyght to coome’. His ‘horryble ymages as yt wer of evell spyrytes’ replicates Croyland’s in description, although he adds that they bred in the king a fatal and ‘suddane feare’ so that he ‘dyd not buckle himself to the conflict with such lyvelyness of corage and countenance as before’. Vergil also attributes this to ‘a conscyence guiltie of haynous [heinous] offences’. In 1587, Shakespeare’s source, Raphael Holinshed, reputed these details to ‘fame’, implying that, in the intervening century, the story of the nightmare had become widespread. In terms reminiscent of the fate of Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus,3 Richard saw ‘diuerse images like terrible diuels, which pulled and haled him, not suffering him to take anie quiet or rest’, after which ‘his heart being almost damped’. According to legend, he had seen a soothsayer (fortune-teller or seer) in Leicester, the night before the battle, who predicted ‘where your spur should strike on the ride into battle, your head shall be broken on the return’. Apparently, his spur struck the bridge stone of the city’s Bow Bridge as he left it in the morning. Independently of the battle, he had already planned to be buried in York, in a chantry chapel of the cathedral, where a hundred chaplains would pray for his soul.
Perhaps there is something in the accounts of the nightmare. After all, on paper, Henry Tudor should not really have won the Battle of Bosworth that August day. He had no experience of combat and had fewer troops, as well as challenging an anointed king who was a veteran of such campaigns and had the higher ground. He also firmly believed God was on his side, parading the cross before his troops and hoping for a swift and decisive validation of his reign. Estimates have placed Richard’s army at around 8,000, with Henry’s a little over half that. The flower of English aristocracy lined up behind their king, who had taken steps to ensure the loyalty of those who had previously been his enemies, through alliances, grants and titles. The Ballad of Bosworth Field, thought to have been composed by an eye-witness, possibly based in Stanley’s camp, lists those who turned out to fight at his side: the Duke of Norfolk, ‘Earls of Lincoln, Northumberland and Westmorland, Lords Zouche, Maltravers, Welles, Grey of Codnor, Bowes, Audley, Berkeley, Ferrers, Lovell, Fitzhugh, Scrope of Masham, Scrope of Bolton, Dacre, Ogle, Lumley, and Greystoke’, as well as a multitude of knights including Henry Percy, John Grey, Robert Brackenbury, Marmaduke Constable, Richard Radcliffe and John Neville. Richard is described as having dignity and suffering ‘great misfortune’ and was the ‘causer of his owne death’, brought down by ‘wicked counsel’. The account of Richard charging single-handedly at Tudor, as he stood surrounded by his troops, may have been an act of bravery or desperation. It cost him the battle. Many of his expected 15,000 troops had failed to commit themselves during the conflict, with Sir William Stanley, husband of Margaret Beaufort, reputedly launching a personal attack on the king in order to save Tudor. Richard died with the words, ‘Treason, treason,’ on his lips. His close associates, John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, William Catesby and Richard Ratcliffe fell at his side, while Lovell escaped to an uncertain fate.
Richard’s end has attracted controversy since he fell at Bosworth on 22 August 1485. Further legends arose surrounding the desperate search for a horse and Tudor’s discovery of the crown in a hawthorn bush, which Stanley then used to crown him. ‘The Ghost of Richard III’ gives a graphic account of Richard’s end and the removal of his body:
My braine they dasht, which flew on ev’ry side,
As they would shew me my tracts of policie:
My yeares with
stabs, my days they multiplide
In drops of blood, t’ expresse my crueltie:
They pierst my hart, evaporating pride,
And mangled me like an anatomie,
And then with horses drag’d me to my tombe.
Thus finish’t I my fate by heaven’s just doome.
Fabyan describes how Richard’s body, ‘spoiled and naked’, was carried ‘unreverently ouertwharte the horse back … untl ye friers at Leiceter’, where he was ‘with little reverence buried’. Holinshed adds that he had ‘nothing left about him, not so much as a clout to couer his priuie members’ and contrasts this with the way the king had ‘gorgeouslie [the day before] with pompe and pride departed’ from the same city. It is Holinshed who presents the disturbing image of the dead king ‘trussed … like a hog or calfe, his head and armes hanging on the one side of the horsse, and his legs on the other side, and all besprinkled with mire and bloud’, in which condition ‘he was brought to the graie friers church within the towne, and there laie like a miserable spectacle’. This was probably at the church of the Annunciation of Our Lady, before he was buried in the church of the small monastic community at Greyfriars. In 1495, Henry Tudor, then Henry VII, paid for a marble and alabaster monument to be erected over his tomb, at a cost of £50. The church was demolished following its dissolution in 1536 and the bones were reputed to have been thrown into the nearby River Soar.
Few voices were raised in lamentation. One of the only surviving tributes came from the one place where he had perhaps been most at home, from whence he derived his family name. The Mayor of York’s sergeant recorded that ‘King Richard, late mercifully reigning over us, was through great treason … piteously slain and murdered, to the great heaviness of this city’. Yet, within the year, allegiances had changed. Such were the times. In 1486, Henry VII paid his first visit to the city so closely associated with Richard and Anne, where they had sat enthroned for four hours with their son, at the height of summer 1484. The mayor and aldermen rode out to meet him, dressed in their official robes of scarlet and violet, mulberry and red. At Micklebar Gate, which had been graced in 1460 by the head of Richard’s father, the Duke of York, children lauded the new king. A huge red-and-white rose was displayed to symbolise the union of Henry and Elizabeth of York, and crowds sprinkled the party with rose water and sweetmeats. It seemed that while Anne had been forgotten, Richard would continue to be vilified forever. That is, until 527 years later.
*
In late August 2012, a team of archaeologists from the University of Leicester began to excavate a city-centre car park, believed to be the site of the old Grey Friars church. Unsure of exactly how the layout of the church mapped out over the modern site, they dug three long trenches and hit at once upon some bones, which they set aside for further explanation: surely they could not be so lucky as to have discovered the king on their first attempt? By 5 September, they had uncovered glazed floor tiles and fragments of stained glass, consistent with expectations of such a building. Now they knew for certain that they were actually inside the church, even within the location suggested by John Rous, for Richard’s burial. This made them return to the original bones, uncovered on that first day, and begin to scrape away the soil around them. The skeleton of an adult male emerged, located in the most prestigious burial location of the church, the choir. The skull showed evidence of fatal injuries caused by a bladed weapon, as well a number of other blows. It appeared that the individual had met a violent end, probably in battle. More controversially, the bones indicated the presence of scoliosis, a condition that can result, to varying degrees, in curvature of the spine. Even in situ, the skeleton’s spine formed a distinctive ‘S’ shape. The circumstantial evidence for its identity as the lost Yorkist king looked strong.
A sample of mitochondrial DNA was extracted from the teeth and compared to a sample taken from Michael Ibsen, a British Canadian who had been identified by genealogist Dr John Ashdown-Hill as a direct descendant of Richard’s sister, Anne of York. While forensic pathologists worked to establish the exact cause of death, specialists in medieval weaponry were summoned to give advice on the types of instrument that might have inflicted the injuries to the skull. The bones were thoroughly cleaned and closely examined to establish the individual’s age, height and state of health, before being radiocarbon dated and given a CT scan, to allow for a three-dimensional reconstruction to take place. Soil samples were also collected and analysed, as were mineralised dental plaque deposits, to help ascertain details about diet and living conditions. The world waited to hear the results.
On 4 February 2013, the archaeologists’ findings were presented in a press conference, organised by the university. Having subjected the remains to ‘rigorous archaeological investigation’, some ‘truly astonishing’ conclusions had been reached. The body had lain only 680 millimetres below the surface of the car park and had almost been destroyed by nineteenth-century building works, which were probably responsible for its lack of feet. No evidence was found of a coffin, shroud or any other funeral formalities; likewise it appeared not to have been buried with any clothing, adornment or personal objects. The torso was twisted, with its head propped up and jaw open. The hands were crossed, right over left, across the pelvis, suggesting they had been tied. Detailed skeletal analysis confirmed that it was the remains of an adult male, aged from his late twenties to late thirties, consistent with Richard’s age at death of thirty-two. The evidence also showed he had enjoyed a diet rich in protein during his life, particularly meat and fish, indicative of high-status living. Ten separate wounds were found on the body, two of which, to the skull, would have proved fatal and could only have been caused if Richard had lost his protective helmet during the final melee. They were made by a range of weapons, including at least one dagger and possibly a halberd, while others appeared to have been inflicted after death as further acts of humiliation. Radiocarbon dating placed his year of death somewhere between 1450 and 1540. Two lines of DNA descent were established, from Richard’s sister, Anne of York, which provided the final confirmation that the bones did, in fact, belong to him.4 That night, a Channel Four documentary, The King in the Car Park, revealed the reconstructed head of the king for the first time, similar to the portraits of the 1520s with his strong nose and jaw. With a half-smile playing on his lips, unexpectedly charismatic, a face stared back at the camera that had not been seen for 527 years.
According to archaeological practice, the bones will be laid to rest at the nearest location to their discovery, at Leicester Cathedral. There are no plans to reunite him in death with his wife Anne, whose exact resting place in Westminster Abbey is still uncertain.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go to the team at Amberley; Jonathan for suggesting this book and Nicola and the publicity department for their continuing support and promotion. I would also like to thank the many wonderful people I have met online whilst writing, who have offered me their expertise and enthusiasm, asked and answered questions and kindly shared their images, resources and ideas. They are too numerous to mention, all around the world, but they have made a significant contribution to this book. Thanks also to all my family, in particular to Tom for his love and support; also the Hunts, for Sue’s generosity and John’s local knowledge and continual supply of interesting and unusual books. Most of all, thanks to my mother for her invaluable proof-reading skills and my father for his enthusiasm. This is the result of the books they read me, the museums they took me to as a child and the love and imagination with which they encouraged me.
Notes
Introduction
1. Ian McKellen official website.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
1 Battles and Births, 1453–1456
1. Complaint made by Cade’s rebels; Seward.
2. Ditchfield, P. H. and W. Page, ‘Windsor Castle: History’, A History of the County of Berkshire: Volume 3 (1923).
3. Furnivall, F. J. (ed.) and Andrew Boorde, Fyrst Boke o
f the Introduction of Knowledge (Early English Text Society, 1870).
4. Brunschwig, Hieronymous, Buch der Cirurgia (1497).
5. Seward, Desmond, A Brief History of the Wars of the Roses (Constable & Co. Ltd, 1995).
6. Kendall, P., Richard III (Norton & Co., 2002).
7. Hall, Edward, Chronicle; containing the History of England, during the reign of Henry the fourth and the succeeding monarchs, to the end of the reign of Henry VIII, in which are particularly described the manners and customs of those periods (Collated with the editions of 1548 and 1550) (London: J. Johnson, 1809).
8. Seward.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. SLP Henry VI July 1455.
12. Ibid.
13. SLP Milan 1455.
14. Licence, A., In Bed with the Tudors (Amberley, 2012).
2 Castle Life, 1456–1458
1. Hanawalt, Barbara, Growing up in Medieval London (Oxford University Press, 1993).
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Orme, Nicholas, Childhood in Medieval England 500–1500 (Unpublished paper).
5. Calendar of Close Rolls for Edward IV, 1483.
6. Hanawalt.
7. A Collection of Ordinances and Regulations for the Governance of the Royal Household, made in divers reigns from King Edward III to King William and Queen Mary (London: Society of Antiquities, 1790).
8. Nichols, John Gough (ed.), The Chronicle of Calais (Camden Society, 1846).
9. Phillips, Kim M., Medieval Maidens (Manchester University Press, 2003).
10. Orme.
11. Rickert, E. (ed.), The Babees’ Book: Medieval Manners for the Young, Done into Modern English from Dr Furnival’s Texts (Chatto & Windus, 1908).