It is not entirely clear whether Henry was with his uncle’s army - more likely he had been left behind at Pembroke. At any rate, Jasper made straight for Pembroke from Chepstow and was promptly besieged in the castle by Morgan Thomas, acting on instructions from Edward IV. But the Tudor luck held. Morgan Thomas’s brother David was an old friend of Jasper’s, and after about a week he succeeded in getting uncle and nephew through the ‘ditch and trench’ of the besiegers’ lines. Jasper and Henry, with a small party of servants and followers, reached the coast at Tenby where they found a ship, helped it is said by Thomas White, mayor of the town. It would be fourteen years before they saw Wales again.
The refugees were making for France where they might reasonably expect to be granted political asylum. But, fortunately as it turned out, a storm blew them on to the coast of Brittany. According to Polydore Vergil, Duke Francis II ‘received them willingly, and with such honour, courtesy and favour entertained them as though they had been his brothers, promising them upon his honour that within his dominion they should be from thenceforth far from injury, and pass at their pleasure to and fro without danger.’
Not surprisingly Edward IV had not been pleased by the Tudors’ escape and attempted to bribe Duke Francis into giving them up - with the inevitable result of impressing the Duke with a sense of the value of his guests. He had promised them asylum, he told the English ambassador, and of course he could not break his word, but he would undertake to keep uncle and nephew ‘so surely’ that the King of England need not be afraid ‘they should ever procure his harm any manner of way’. Edward was obliged to agree to this arrangement, which proved highly advantageous to Brittany. Jasper and Henry were separated, deprived of their English servants and guarded instead by Bretons, while in return Duke Francis collected a handsome pension from King Edward.
We know virtually nothing about how Henry and Jasper passed their years of confinement. Their material needs would have been provided for; they would have had books and music and been able to take exercise, but all the same - for Henry especially - it must have been a singularly cheerless existence. Time was passing and Henry Tudor was growing into a man helpless to defend himself, entirely dependent on the goodwill of a protector who might at any moment be subjected to irresistible pressures from outside. Fretting in his Breton gaol, he can have seen very little prospect of ever being able to lead a normal life, or indeed of ever being in a position to recover his father’s earldom of Richmond.
Then suddenly, in April 1483, Edward IV was dead. His two small sons fell into the hands of their uncle Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and were lodged in the Tower of London, pending the coronation of the thirteen-year-old Edward v. But before this could take place, Gloucester had made the interesting discovery that Edward IV’s marriage to Queen Elizabeth Woodville had been invalid and that his children were therefore illegitimate. By the end of June Richard of Gloucester had been proclaimed King and it was noticed that the young princes were no longer to be seen shooting and playing in the Tower gardens. Yet another successful coup d’'état had apparently been accomplished. The Yorkists, though, were still in the saddle, and on the face of it there seemed no particular reason why the fortunes of the exiled Lancastrians should be affected one way or the other. Nevertheless, within three months there was to be a sensational improvement in their circumstances.
The precise origins of the conspiracy to replace Richard III by Henry Tudor remain somewhat obscure, as do the reasons which prompted the Duke of Buckingham - who had played a prominent part in putting Richard on the throne -to come out that same year in favour of Henry. The obvious explanation, of course, is that by the end of the summer Buckingham had good reason to believe that Richard had had his nephews murdered. Certainly there would have been very little future in planning to depose Richard in favour of such a remote claimant as Henry Tudor while Edward IV’s sons were still alive.
Controversy about the fate of ‘the little ‘Princes in the Tower’ is still very much alive and, in the absence of any startling new evidence, it will probably remain so. Two facts, however, are not in dispute. After midsummer 1483 no one outside the Tower saw either of the boys again, and by early autumn rumours of their death by foul play were being freely circulated. It has been argued by Richard’s advocates that these rumours were deliberately started and spread by the Lancastrian faction, but there would not have been much point in inventing a story which could so easily have been disproved. The King, after all, had only to produce his captives before a suitable audience to nail the slander stone dead. The fact that he never did so, in spite of the strength of popular feeling on the subject, is perhaps the most damning piece of circumstantial evidence in the case against him.
The date of the inception of the Tudor conspiracy is not known, but one thing seems pretty certain and that is that Henry Tudor’s mother was one of the prime movers. Margaret Beaufort had married twice since her first widowhood and in 1483 was the wife of a prominent Yorkist, Thomas, Lord Stanley. She had borne no more children, and although she can scarcely have seen her son since he had been taken from her at Pembroke all those years ago, he had kept first place in her heart and thoughts. Margaret would, of course, be in a position to hear all the political gossip and the moment she realized that Edward IV’s sons were being presumed dead, she began to devote all her considerable talents to the task of promoting the future ‘well doing and glory’ of her own offspring.
Her first step was to make contact with Edward IV’s widow. Elizabeth Woodville had taken sanctuary at Westminster with her daughters but, by a fortunate coincidence, both she and Margaret Beaufort employed the services of a Welsh physician named Lewis, ‘a grave man and of no small experience’, well qualified to act as go-between. The plan he unfolded to the Queen Dowager was that if she and her numerous and ambitious relations would undertake to support Henry Tudor’s claim to the throne, Henry, once he had unseated the usurper, would undertake to marry Edward IV’s eldest daughter and thus unite the warring factions. The widow and her daughter proved agreeable - Elizabeth Woodville promising ‘to do her endeavour’ to persuade her late husband’s friends to take Henry’s part. Thus encouraged, Margaret Beaufort widened her net, entrusting her steward, Reginald Bray, with the delicate and dangerous task of enlisting the support of ‘such noble and worshipful men as were wise, faithful and active’ and ready to help her cause. In a surprisingly short space of time Bray had successfully interested quite a number of substantial gentlemen and Margaret was on the point of sending a courier to Brittany, when she learned that the Duke of Buckingham was also contemplating action.
The two happened to meet on the high road, so the story goes, as Margaret was travelling between Bridgnorth and Worcester. Until this moment Buckingham had apparently been thinking in terms of proposing himself as an alternative to King Richard - he was, after all, a Beaufort on his mother’s side and doubly descended from Edward in. However, according to his own account, this casual meeting with Margaret Beaufort reminded him forcibly that she and her son stood as ‘both bulwark and portcullis’ between him and the getting of the Crown, so that he utterly relinquished ‘all such phantasticall imaginations’. If we knew what really passed between Margaret and her ‘cousin of Buks’ in that convenient roadside encounter, we should probably know a good deal more about the complicated web of intrigue being spun in England that summer; but it seems that the Duke went on to have a serious talk with John Morton, Bishop of Ely, and as a result both men decided to commit themselves to supporting Henry Tudor.
Now that she was sure of these two important allies Margaret lost no more time in getting in touch with her son, and despatched one Hugh Conway with a large sum of money and instructions to urge Henry to return home at once. He was to make for Wales, where he would find help waiting. It is possible that Hugh Conway brought the first news of the astonishing change in his prospects; at any rate up to this time - about the middle of September - Henry had made no move on his own accou
nt. Not that he was in any position to do so. Although he had been free from actual physical restraint after Edward IV’s death, he was still a penniless refugee, dependent on his friends to set the ball rolling. But now this had been done it was up to Henry Tudor - still a completely unknown quantity - to show what he was made of, to justify his mother’s faith in him and seize what might be the chance of a lifetime. With the advice and help of his uncle Jasper, an old hand at this sort of game, Henry responded bravely to the challenge. The Duke of Brittany was prepared to help with a loan of 10,000 crowns. The Tudors raised a small force of ships and mercenaries, and by the second week in October they were ready to go.
Meanwhile, in England, the worst was happening. King Richard had got wind of Buckingham’s activities and a spontaneous rising in Kent seems to have erupted prematurely. The exact sequence of events is uncertain, but by the time Henry made landfall off Poole harbour all element of surprise had gone. Swallowing his disappointment, Henry made the only wise decision - to cut his losses – and gave orders to hoist up sail.
He and Jasper were back in Brittany in time to hear the depressing news that the take-over bid had collapsed and that the Duke of Buckingham had been captured and executed. Margaret Beaufort herself only narrowly escaped the normal penalty for high treason - probably because Richard dared not risk alienating the powerful Stanley family. Some of the other conspirators escaped the King’s wrath altogether. The Bishop of Ely, Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dorset and Elizabeth Woodville’s eldest son by her first marriage, the Courtenays of Devonshire, the Brandon brothers, John Bourchier, John Cheyney and Thomas Arundel were among those who were able to cross the Channel and join the Tudors in exile. On Christmas Day 1483, at the cathedral of Rennes, Henry swore a solemn oath in the presence of his supporters that ‘so soon as he should be King he would marry Elizabeth, King Edward’s daughter’; after which they in turn swore homage ‘as though he had been already created king’.
Anglo-Breton relations had naturally been somewhat strained after the previous autumn’s fiasco but now Richard, who (according to Polydore Vergil) was leading a miserable life, tormented with fear of Henry’s return, made up his mind to arrange another truce and rid himself of ‘this inward grief. His chance came early in June. Duke Francis was an elderly man, becoming feeble ‘by reason of sore and daily sickness’. The reins of government passed temporarily into the hands of the Treasurer, Peter Landois, and it was Landois who received King Richard’s ambassadors. They offered the annual revenues of the earldom of Richmond together with those of all the other English nobles who had taken refuge in Brittany in exchange for the surrender of Henry Tudor. Landois, ‘a man of sharp wit and great authority’ and consequently highly unpopular among his fellow-countrymen, saw an opportunity of gaining a useful foreign ally and it was apparently for this reason that he agreed to betray his master’s protégé.
It was John Morton in Flanders who got to hear of this amiable scheme and sent a warning to Henry by Christopher Urswick, ‘an honest, approved and serviceable priest’, who had just come out from England. Henry was at Vannes when Morton’s messenger reached him and he at once sent Urswick to France for permission to cross the border. As soon as this had been obtained, an escape plan organized on classic lines went smoothly into operation. It was arranged that Jasper should escort the English nobles to call on Duke Francis, whose retreat happened to be close to the frontier, their pretext being the need to discuss Henry’s affairs. Instead, they were to turn aside and get themselves into France at the first opportunity. Henry himself left Vannes with only five attendants, saying that he was going to visit a friend who had a manor nearby. No immediate suspicion was aroused because of the large number of English left in the town, and the innocent-looking little party ambled peacefully out of Vannes unchallenged. But after they had covered about five miles, they left the road and Henry changed into ‘serving man’s apparel’ in the shelter of a convenient wood. Thus disguised he rode the rest of the way behind one of his own servants, who guided him by the quickest route over the border into Anjou. They were only just in time, for Landois had been alerted and his men were riding hard in pursuit. Henry Tudor reached the safety of French soil with barely an hour’s margin.
Thanks to John Morton and his own cool head, Henry had saved his own life by a whisker. He had also saved the most valuable of his supporters and was later able to salvage the rest. When Duke Francis recovered, he was much displeased with Peter Landois and gave orders that the English marooned in Vannes were to be allowed to leave for France with their travelling expenses paid.
The Tudor cause had suffered a serious set-back but on the whole the political situation in France was favourable. Louis XI had died the previous August, to be succeeded by his thirteen-year-old son, Charles, and the regency was disposed to be friendly to the exiles. At least, it was disposed to make use of them to embarrass King Richard and prevent him from sending military aid to Brittany - France was just then making preparations to swallow the last of her independent duchies. But it all meant delay, while the new government coped with more pressing matters, and Henry could not afford too much delay. Many of his followers were disgruntled Yorkists whose loyalty could not be relied on forever - indeed the Marquis of Dorset did try to slip away - and his friends at home might lose heart, and interest, if they were left too long between hope and dread. Elizabeth of York was still unmarried, but there was no telling how much longer she and her sisters would be allowed to remain single and without the Yorkist marriage Henry’s chances of uniting a chronically factious nobility would be minimal. In his ancestral Wales, where the forces of nationalism were working strongly in his favour, the bards were growing impatient:
In what seas are thy anchors, and where art thou thyself?
When wilt thou, Black Bull, come to land;
How long shall we wait?
On the feast of the Virgin fair Gwynedd, in her singing, watched the seas.
The letters being smuggled out of England brought messages of goodwill from Henry’s stepfather Lord Stanley and his brother William Stanley, from Gilbert Talbot and ‘others innumerable’. From Wales came word that Rhys ap Thomas and other ‘men of power’ in the principality were ready and waiting, and that the useful Reginald Bray had collected ‘no small sum of money’ to pay soldiers; but John Morgan, the lawyer, was urging haste. Then, in the spring of 1485, another message crossed the Channel - a rumour that King Richard, now a widower, had begun to cast his eye on his niece Elizabeth, and to desire her in marriage. Whether or not there was ever any foundation for this piece of gossip, the news, says Polydore Vergil, pinched Henry by the very stomach. At best his must be a desperate venture -further delay now might destroy any chance of success.
He borrowed money - ‘a slender supply’ from the French King and more where he could get it - and managed to find a few pieces of artillery and a force of between two and three thousand mercenaries from Normandy to supplement his five hundred or so Englishmen. The tiny armada, probably no more than a dozen ships, sailed from the mouth of the Seine on 1 August, with a soft south wind behind it, and set course for Wales. The ‘long yellow summer’ - the summer of the dragon, of the hero in a golden cloak, the summer of the ‘Bull of Anglesey’ had come round at last.
2: THE ROSE OF ENGLAND
Our King he is the rose so red,
That now does flourish fresh and gay.
Confound his foes, Lord, we beseech,
And love his grace both night and day!
A little before sunset on Sunday, 7 August 1485 the fleet carrying Henry and Jasper Tudor nosed into the entrance of Milford Haven and dropped the anchor in Mill Bay under St. Anne’s Head. The army disembarked without incident and marched over the headland in the summer twilight to make camp for the night at Dale. It was almost exactly fourteen years since uncle and nephew had fled from Tenby, just a few miles down the coast, and their situation now was very nearly as precarious as it had been then.
Next morning, at daybreak, the Tudors began to move inland, reaching Haverfordwest before noon, and it was here that the first news of their supporters reached them. This was Jasper’s country and, as soon as they heard he was back, the men of Pembroke sent a deputation to their former earl bringing assurances of loyalty and service. But it seemed that Rhys ap Thomas, the most important and influential man of the region, whose support Henry had been promised, was publicly proclaiming his loyalty to King Richard. If this was true, it would be a very serious blow and was especially dismaying as being ‘clean contrary’ to the messages which had been reaching Henry in France.
Henry Tudor was not by nature a gambling man and he had learnt the lessons of caution and patience in a hard school - yet the venture he had now committed himself to was enough to terrify the most intrepid gambler. His retreat might be cut off at any moment and although he had sent couriers to his mother, to the Stanleys and to Gilbert Talbot, he could not hope to hear from them, or even to hear if they were still at liberty to help him, until he had passed the point of no return.
His route took him up the coast as far as the estuary of the River Dovey and here, about 11 August, he turned east. The passage through Wales had encountered no resistance and a number of gentlemen along the line of march had come in with their tenantry. But, despite the rousing calls of the bards, there had been no sign of any very wild enthusiasm for the Tudor cause. On Saturday, 13 August, the army had reach Welshpool, only a few miles from the border, and by this time reinforcements were arriving from the north - orderly bands of fighting men under their own leaders from Arfon and Mon, Eifionydd, Lleyn and Ardudwy. Rhys ap Thomas had also turned up at last with ‘a great band of soldiers’ and an assured promise of support.
The House of Tudor Page 3