by Linda Simon
Sir Henry appears to have been a mild man with little involvement in public affairs. Unlike his brother Humphrey, he seems not to have taken an active role in the Wars, but spent much time with his wife at their various estates, some of which were given to the couple as a marriage gift by Sir Henry’s father. Though she fulfilled her duties as a nobleman’s wife — supervising the household, substituting for her husband in running the estates, raising her child — those tasks were only part of Margaret’s life. In the early years of their marriage, Margaret resumed some of the scholarly work that had occupied her youth. She began translating one book of The Imitation of Christ which had been rendered into French and concerned herself with devising “practical schemes for the welfare of the surrounding labourers and her dependents.”[35]
Both scholarly translations and medieval “social work” were pursuits more often associated with men, and more specifically with clergymen, than with women. Those intellectual endeavors, however, Margaret carried out alone. While her husband may have been encouraging, there is no evidence that their marriage was a union of like spirits resulting in a remarkable companionship. Margaret was as solitary in her marriage as she had been throughout her youth, and continued to live according to her own precepts.
She was determined to impart those precepts to her son. The wardship of Henry Tudor was never awarded by the king to a deserving nobleman. The child was, in effect, under the protection of his uncle, Jasper Tudor, who would have been a likely choice as guardian. Henry VI’s decision to leave the boy with his mother shaped the child’s character in a way far different from what it might otherwise have been. One of the acknowledged purposes of a boy’s wardship was to provide an opportunity for him to learn the arts of war by being in the home of a noble commander and veteran. As earl of Pembroke, Jasper Tudor amply filled that role:
The Erle of Pembroke curtys and firce;
A-cross the mast he hyeth travers,
The good shyp for to lede.
But his influence was tempered by the presence of Margaret herself, with whom Henry lived at least part of each year. Her son never forgot her gentle teachings, her high moral standards, and her exemplary intellectual life.
*
Margaret had already seen a husband and an uncle felled by the growing conflict between the Lancastrians and the Yorkists. In the summer of 1460, the war struck her life again.
On July 10 the armies clashed at Northampton, The king was accompanied by notable lords, among them Henry Stafford’s father, Humphrey, duke of Buckingham, who had at last decided to intervene in the Wars on behalf of the Lancastrians. The fighting lasted no more than half an hour, and the king’s retinue was destroyed. Margaret’s father-in-law was slain. Henry VI himself was taken prisoner. The defeat was a severe blow to the Lancastrian cause and the first major Yorkist victory. A Yorkist poet celebrated:
Where-of god of his speciall grace,
Heryng the peple crying for mercye,
Considering the falsehode in every place,
Gave infleweinz of myrthe into bodyes on hye.
The which in a berward[36] lighted prevelye,
Edward,[37] yong of age, disposed in solace,
In hauking & hunting to begynne meryly,
To Northampton with the bere[38] he toke his trace …
… The bere made the dogges to cry,
And with his pawme cast theyme to grounde.
The game was done in a litel stounde,
The buk[39] was slayne, & borne away …[40]
During a tense summer, the Yorkists ruled in the name of Richard. Their duke was then in Ireland, where he had fled in 1459 when Henry VI, convinced by his queen and his own supporters, finally had passed a bill of attainder against him. Traitors could not be delivered to the king from Ireland, where York was further protected by powerful friends and allies. By September, York had assembled considerable support. From a Kentish port, to which he had sailed from Ireland, he rode with an entourage of about five hundred to London. Preceded by trumpeters and mounted soldiers trailing banners, York came at last to claim the crown.
He marched to Westminster Palace, approached the empty throne, and laid his hand upon it for the first time. To all who stood gaping at his boldness, he announced that he had the right, by inheritance, to the crown of England. He claimed that Henry VI’s grandfather, when he usurped the throne from Richard II, had done so at the expense of the Mortimers, Richard II’s rightful heirs. Henry V had had no more claim to the throne than had his father, and Henry VI likewise illegally ruled the land. Richard of York compared England to a mortally ill patient, for whom he was physician.
I declare and publish to you, that here I sit, as in the place to me by very justice lawfully belongyng, & here I rest, as he to whome this chayre of right apperteineth, not as he, which requireth of you favor, parcialitie, or bearynge, but egall right, frendly indifferencie, and trew administracion of justice: for I beyng the partye greved and complaynaunt, can not minister to my self the Medecine … Nor yet this noble realme, and our naturall countrey shall never be unbukeled from her quotidian fever, except I (as the principall Physician & you, as trew and trusty Appotecaries) consult together, in makyng of the pocion, and trye out the clene and pure stuffe, from the old, corrupt, and putrified dregges. For undoubtedly, the rote & botome of this long festured cankar, is not yet extirpat … which hath bene and is the daily destruccion of the nobilitie, and the quotidian confusion of ye pore communaltie of this realme and kyngdom …[41]
A strange occurrence, coincident with York’s lengthy oration, was taken as an omen of events to come. At a meeting of the commons, a crown set high above the assembly, which was used for holding tapers, suddenly fell down “without touche of any creature, or rigor of wynd.” At that very moment, it was reported, a crown that adorned the Castle of Dover also suddenly, and with no apparent cause, crashed to the earth. Those who heard of the odd happenings speculated that “the Croune of the Realme should bee divided and changed, from one line to another.”[42]
Those who witnessed York’s speech were shocked and dumbstruck, “as though their mouths had been sowed up.” They could not dethrone a living king, the ruler to whom they had sworn unalterable allegiance. They proposed, instead, that Richard allow Henry to wear the crown until his natural death. Then, Richard himself and his heirs would inherit the kingdom. York agreed to the compromise. Henry VI also agreed, thus refusing the throne for his small son.
The Wars of the Roses would have ended then, in the fall of 1460, were it not for Margaret of Anjou. She could not bear the idea that the crown would be denied her son. During the king’s imprisonment she had fled at great peril with young Edward toward Wales, where she knew that Jasper Tudor and his men would protect them. She sought refuge at Harlech Castle, the seemingly impenetrable castle that once had been the main base of the legendary Welsh leader Owen Glendower, and there devised a strategy to retain the crown for her son.
Many of Margaret Beaufort’s family rallied behind Margaret of Anjou, ready to fight in her name and in the name of the king. In part, they felt a real loyalty to Henry VI; in part, they were fighting for Margaret Beaufort and for her son. If Henry VI and the young prince Edward were killed, Margaret Beaufort would be compelled to come forth and claim the Lancastrian crown. It was clear to all who knew her that she would pass the crown to her son rather than rule in her own name. With Henry Tudor hardly more than a toddler, the Lancastrians could hope for little support among the nobility if he were presented as king. Even Margaret Beaufort herself, despite her aversion to the ruthless strategy plotted by Margaret of Anjou, hoped that the queen’s troops would be victorious.
By the end of December, York had retired to his castle in Yorkshire. There he was challenged by the queen’s army at Wakefield. Though many of his men were dispersed to attend to local skirmishes, which were increasingly prevalent in that time of upheaval, York decided to take up the challenge.
The Yorkists descended to a field b
etween the castle and the town of Wakefield. Once in the open, they found themselves surrounded on all sides by Lancastrians. York felt “like a fish in a net, or a deere in a buckestall,”[43] yet fought bravely. Within half an hour, the duke himself was slain and his army defeated. York was decapitated, his head crowned with a rude paper coronet, placed on a pole, and presented to the victorious queen. Then it was impaled on one of the gates of the city of York, through which Margaret’s troops triumphantly marched south, pillaging and plundering as they went.
Mercenary armies on both sides were feared and hated by the commoners. These soldiers were recruited from the bottom of society, and however noble their leaders might have been, their troops could not be held back from robbery and rape. Margaret’s men were among the worst. “The pepill in the northe robbe and styll, and ben apoynted to pill all thys cwntre, and gyffe a way menys goods and lufflords in all the sowth cwntre more than iiij or v. shers, for they wold be up on the men in northe, for it ys for the welle of all the sowthe.”[44]
The two armies were soon to clash again. York’s cause was taken up by Edward, his nineteen-year-old son, who led the Yorkist army against Jasper Tudor and his Welsh and Irish supporters on February 2, 1461. The battle began at ten in the morning in a field near Mortimer’s Cross and ended in Tudor’s defeat. The Yorkist victory was important for Edward, but even more important was a curious celestial sight. The sun suddenly appeared to him as three suns, and then just as suddenly joined as one. Edward was profoundly impressed and took the vision to be an omen of good fortune. Thereafter he included the sun in his badge.
Jasper Tudor’s participation in the Wars was trying for his former sister-in-law, Margaret. In many ways, she depended on him more than she did on her husband, Henry Stafford. Jasper was closer to the intrigues of Henry VI’s court, a valued aide of Margaret of Anjou, and a powerful commander. Without him, Margaret Beaufort would have felt more vulnerable than she did to attack by the Yorkists. Without his advice and reassurance, she would not have been able intelligently to assess real danger.
With great relief, she learned that he was not slain at Mortimer’s Cross. Another Tudor, however, did not fare as well. Foremost among the Lancastrians fighting at that battle was Owen Tudor, long exiled in Wales, stepfather of Henry VI and Margaret Beaufort’s one-time father-in-law. Tudor was captured, taken to Hereford, and condemned to death. It is alleged that as he laid his head on the block, he said that it was “wont to lie in queen Catherine’s lap.” When his head was displayed on the highest step of the market cross at Haverfordwest, a woman came each day to comb the hair, wash the face, and place around it a circle of lighted candles. Even in death Owen Tudor lost none of his charm.
The battle of Mortimer’s Cross fired the Yorkists’ cause, but two weeks later, at St. Albans, the site of the first York-Lancaster confrontation, their army was routed by a surprise attack. Henry was liberated by his queen, and Margaret’s troops withdrew north to reassemble and make new plans.
The battle, which appears to have been no more than a skirmish in the St. Albans marketplace, did not dull Edward’s sense of victory. The Yorkists were gaining considerable support where it mattered most — in the cities. Edward’s triumph in early February gave him sufficient cause for celebration to allow him to ride into London and be warmly welcomed and hailed not only as victor, but as king. “He was so much esteemed, bothe of the nobilitie and commonaltie, for his liberalitie, clemencie, integrite, and corage, that above all other, he was extolled and praysed to the very heaven.”[45] Men pledged more than their loyalty; they willingly wagered their lives and livelihood on his cause. Edward was a virile and vital figure, the most handsome prince that the French historian Comines, for one, had ever seen. “The lusty King Edward,” Hall dubbed him, and his presence was an exciting change from the enervated Henry VI.
Clearly, London was rallying behind the young Yorkist rather than maintaining allegiance to the Lancastrian king. Londoners would gladly exchange the forty-year-old monarch, enfeebled by bouts of madness, dominated by a shrew and her raucous army, for a youth “of visage lovely, of body mighty, strong, and clean made.”[46] They were inspired by Edward just as their grandfathers had been inspired by the young Henry V.
Edward, carrying on his father’s dream, based his claim to the crown on heredity. For many Englishmen, however, heredity played a smaller role in pledging allegiance than did political expediency. Edward knew that with support in the capital, he was assured of being accepted as monarch throughout the land. On March 4, 1461, the young York heir had himself proclaimed king.
Lord Fauconbridge, addressing a large assembly in St. John’s field, whipped the crowd into an emotional rejection of Henry VI. He “demaunded of the people, whether they woulde have the sayd kyng Henry to rule and reigne any lenger over them: To whom they with a whole voyce, aunswered, nay, nay.” Then he asked if they were prepared to “serve, love, and obey” Edward. In a great outburst, they cried, “Yea, Yea, King Edward,” shouting and applauding and tossing their caps into the air. After the acclaim, Edward and his supporters informed the nobility of the assent of the commons, and at Baynard’s Castle Edward spoke to his peers.
An instinctive politician, Edward, after a long, pregnant pause, first thanked God for help in bringing him to victory. Then he acknowledged with deep gratitude the help of the multitude standing before him. He demurely wondered whether his shoulders were broad enough to bear such a burden and whether he would be able to lead them effectively, but the noblemen would hear no self-doubt. Pressed to accept their acclaim, Edward in the end agreed to taken on himself the weighty responsibility of the crown of England.
The next day “with great solempnitie, he was conveyed to Westmynster, and there set in the hawle, with the scepter royall in his hand, where, to all the poeple which there in great number were assembled, his title and clayme to the croune of England, was declared by ii. maner of wayes: the first, as sonne and heyre to duke Richard his father, right enheritor to thesame: the second, by aucthoritie of Parliament and forfeiture committed by, kyng Henry.”[47]
Quickly the new king dispatched his troops northward to make a final conquest of the Lancastrians. The clash was thunderous. At Towton, on Palm Sunday, March 29, 1461, the greatest battle of the Wars was fought.
Though chronicles of diverse political persuasions put the number of soldiers involved as high as two hundred thousand, most probably fifty or sixty thousand men were involved in battle; many of these, especially on the Lancastrian side, were archers. There was a blinding snowstorm as the men approached each other, with wind blowing snow toward the advancing Lancastrians. The archers could hardly see their enemy, and their arrows never reached the intended victims. Instead, the snow allowed the Yorkists to approach more closely than they otherwise might have dared, and when the archers had spent their arrows, the Yorkists poured in to demolish them. Ten hours later, tens of thousands lay dead, their bodies bloodying the new-fallen snow.
The northern party made them strong with spere & with sheld;
On palmesonday affter the none thei met us in the feld.
With-in an owre thei were right fayne to fie & ike to yeld —
xxvii thousand the rose kyld in the feld.[48]
Edward’s show of strength had so impressed some Lancastrian supporters that many changed their allegiance after Towton. Henry VI, Margaret of Anjou, their son, and several noblemen fled into Scotland. Edward IV returned to London.
The rose came to love london, ful ryally rydyng.
ii erchbisshops of england thei crowned the rose kyng.[49]
On June 28, 1461, London witnessed the formal coronation of the first Yorkist king.
V - While Lions War
AFTER MORTIMER’S CROSS and his father’s execution, Jasper Tudor realized that he was in imminent danger of being arrested and executed. Fearing for his young nephew, Henry Tudor, as well as for himself, he easily convinced Margaret Beaufort of the need for greater protection for her s
on than could be offered at Pembroke. He insisted that she allowed him to take the boy with him to Harlech, where Margaret of Anjou had taken refuge with her son the year before.
In 1461 the castle was under the protection of Dafydd ab Einon, whose valor was widely praised. It was said of him that he once held a castle in France so long that all the old women of Wales gossiped about it. At Harlech, he claimed that he would hold it until all the old women of France would know of his courage. But Dafydd ab Einon was finally defeated in battle by a fellow Welshman and former Lancastrian, William Herbert.
Herbert had fought beside Edward IV at Mortimer’s Cross and soon afterward was appointed Edward’s counselor and chief justice in South Wales. He became the first Welshman to join the English peerage when, in 1461, Edward created him a baron. His wealth increased proportionately to his elevated title. From being merely a rich landowner he became, by 1468, the wealthiest magnate in Wales, with an annual income of £2400. Though he had once been a friend of Edmund Tudor’s, Herbert’s new identity made him an avowed enemy of all Lancastrians.
In September 1461, Herbert, called Black William because of his thick black hair and beard, gained a firmer footing in government when he was awarded, as remuneration for his invaluable service to the king, the castle and town of Pembroke, almost deserted after the flight of Jasper Tudor. More significantly, in February 1462 he obtained the wardship of Henry Tudor.
The young boy, just past his fifth birthday, was taken from his uncle’s side and returned to his birthplace. Stripped of his title of earl of Richmond, which he had inherited from his father, at Pembroke he was both ward and prisoner.