Richard III

Neither hero, nor quite the monster he was said to be, He died a King. He died courageously.

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Friday, 22 August 1485, Bosworth Field – “Richard’s corpse, naked and torn by wounds, was bound across a horse, with his head and long hair hanging down, bloody and hideous, and in this condition borne into Leicester for all men to see”. (Winston Churchill: The Birth of Briton)

Richard III was the last English King to die in battle. He lost crown & life in hand-to-hand combat on the bloody ground of Bosworth Field. The victor was Henry Tudor, thereafter, known as King Henry VII. Henry Tudor was the last man to win his crown on the field of battle. It was the last time a King - and a would-be King - would personally exchange blows in deadly fighting.

The battle begun with ten thousand men supporting Richard III, and five thousand men supporting Henry Tudor. It seemed a lop-sided fight, until, at a crucial point, Lord Stanley’s force of three thousand turned against Richard and fought for Henry. At the same time, the Earl of Northumberland held his force apart from the fighting, only looking on from a nearby hill..

“Treason”, cried Richard, fighting his way to the thickest of the fray. He fought bravely until he was finally dragged down and brutally slaughtered. Richard’s crown, caught dangling from a bush, was placed on the head of Henry Tudor.

Even the enemies of Richard III acknowledged - “He lost his life, but he died a King”

It was a turning point in history, as was the battle, itself.

Bosworth was the decisive battle of the thirty-two year-long War of the Roses. So called because of the heraldic badges of the contending parties - Red Rose for the House of York - White Rose for the House of Lancaster. Both sides were branches of the Plantagenet dynasty which had ruled England for more than three hundred years.

Some say it was the last chapter of the Middle Ages.

The reign of the Tudors would last for the next one-hundred eighteen years. It ended with the death of Henry VIII’s daughter, Elizabeth. The Virgin Queen - Elizabeth I - ruled for forty-four consequential years. She left no heirs.

After Richard’s death, the Lords who supported him were beheaded and their families extirpated to the second and third generation. Even with crown and total victory it still didn’t seem enough. The Tudor’s now set about impugning the memory of Richard III, as well. Their method was written history. Their writer was Sir Thomas More.

Sir Thomas was a man of impeccable character, but perhaps more gullible than he should have been. He seems to have swallowed every calumny of hear-say and rumor gossiped in the streets and promoted by Tudor propagandists.

In More’s history, Richard is depicted as a monster of crooked back and crooked character, physically and morally deformed, perpetrator of crimes both real and imagined. Henry Tudor is described as just the opposite. Shakespeare, in his play, Richard III, turned More’s history into lasting slander and immortal art.

In truth, Richard’s brief reign encompassed good & evil in about the same measure as every other king of the era. He founded Cambridge University’s King’s college and Queen’s college. He restored powers to Parliament that had been seriously restricted by Edward IV.

He declared the practice of, “Benevolences”, (thuggery forced contributions) illegal. He passed a land-law to regulate, “Uses” (Trusts). He treated kindly, fallen opponents and petitioners.

The darkest crime he was accused of was real - though the details remain cloudy.

In 1674, one hundred eighty-nine years after the fact, the skeletons of two boys were discovered buried under rubble in an infrequently visited part of the tower of London. These were assumed, with no doubt, to be the remains of Edward V and the Duke of York.

Richard III was brother to Edward IV. These boys were his nephews.

King Edward IV died prematurely at age forty. His deathbed wish was that his oldest son, twelve-year-old, Prince Edward, would become Edward V. Some factions were uncomfortable with the complications that might attend a fledgling King of only twelve years. Nonetheless, plans were made for the coronation of Prince Edward.

Richard as uncle, arranged to be protector of both young Prince Edward, and his nine-year-old brother, the Duke of York. He took them off to the tower for their safety. They never came out. They just disappeared.

In the consternation that followed, Richard, grieving for his nephews, and only after being petitioned by Parliament, finally agreed, for the sake St. George and England, to take on the burdens of Kingship.

That was the official line.

No one believed it. The indignation from common folk and gentry alike created the conditions for Richard’s downfall and Henry Tudor’s victory.

In 2012 the long-lost burial site of Richard III was discovered under a municipal parking lot in the city of Leicester.

Forensic examination revealed a spiral deformation of the spine that seemed the result of scoliosis. Eleven wounds were detected. The back of the skull had been chopped off. The chest had been pierced by a sword. Either of these wounds would have killed him. The remaining wounds were caused by daggers, probably after death, suggesting overkill intended to humiliate and vilify the corpse.

The spinal deformation was slight enough to be disguised by clothing. It would not have impaired normal movement. He was not a hunchback, he did not have a shriveled arm.

Neither hero, nor quite the monster he was said to be – He died a King.

He died courageously.

By K. L. Shipley

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