Warwick: The Man Behind The Wars of the Roses

by Tony Riches

  ‘Now they want the people to pay for it?’

  Richard scowled. ‘Rivers should never have been made Treasurer.’

  A rider was approaching them. Richard recognised him as one of his agents from the north. The man slowed and rode up to Richard. He wore Richard’s ragged staff badge and his clothes were dusty from riding hard. His expression was serious. ‘I have important news, Earl Warwick.’

  ‘What is it?’ Richard silently prayed that Edward hadn’t routed the northerners and returned to the safety of London. It could be serious for them all.

  ‘We have engaged the army of the Earl of Pembroke, at Edgecote, near Banbury.’ He removed his hat and wiped his brow. ‘The Welsh have good numbers with poleaxes. We can see no artillery and few archers. If you can send reinforcements it will help us win the day.’

  Richard was relieved at the news. ‘I can send half my men right away. Can you lead them to the place?’

  The man nodded. ‘We must be quick, before the king’s army can reach them from Nottingham.’

  Richard watched as his best men rode off. ‘I wish we were going with them, Tully.’ He looked up the road to where the gates of London waited.

  There hadn’t been time to send scouts ahead, so he was relying on his judgement. He was fairly confident that the people would welcome them, although he knew they could be riding into a trap. Their arrival in the city was uneventful. There were no cheering crowds, although people did stop and stare as hundreds of men in the colours of George of Clarence and Warwick rode through the streets. If Edward was angry at news of George’s wedding there was no sign of it.

  Richard arranged supplies and purchased new equipment for his men. He originally planned to spend some time in London, regaining the confidence of the merchants and winning more support at the council in Westminster. Instead he knew he had to march north. His life could depend on the outcome of the battle ahead.

  George rode at Richard’s side. He wore his new armour which gleamed in the bright summer sunshine and had never been used in battle. George seemed completely unconcerned at having to leave his bride of less than a week behind in Calais. Instead he wanted to understand Richard’s plans for when they arrived in Northampton.

  ‘What will we do with my brothers if they are defeated?’

  Richard had been reflecting the problem since they left London. ‘I think it rather depends on Edward.’

  George rode in silence for a short distance, apparently reflecting on Richard’s words. He turned in his saddle, his polished breastplate flashing in the sun. ‘Edward has a forgiving nature. If he is defeated he will take it with good grace. My brother Richard will not. He is vengeful, with everything to gain and little to lose.’

  ‘I intend to persuade Richard of Gloucester to take the hand of my daughter Anne.’

  George was surprised. ‘He is loyal to Edward and would never agree!’

  ‘Quite the contrary. She is heir to half my fortune.’ Richard smiled as he remembered how Annie had pretended to be disinterested in the young duke, yet spent every spare moment with him. ‘They were close when Richard lived in my household.’

  ‘She’s just a girl. They were like brother and sister, from what I recall.’

  ‘Be that as it may, my daughter is thirteen now and will soon be a woman. I would much prefer to have your brother Richard tied to our interests rather than working against them.’

  George looked unhappy at the prospect and continued riding in silence. Richard had chosen not to share his fears with his new brother-in-law. He was far from certain that Edward’s forces would be easily defeated, although as far as they knew he had still not joined forces with the advancing Welsh army. Richard was more concerned with the quality of his own supporters marching south under Robin of Redesdale. Many were untrained retainers, armed with whatever they could lay their hands on. Not for the first time, he wished his brother John was commanding them.

  As they finally approached Northampton Richard recalled the battle there nine years before. The road had been mired with mud and he didn’t have dry clothes for a week, yet it had been one of their greatest victories. Now the road was dry and dusty from lack of rain. They slowed as one of the scouts reported dust rising into the air. There were riders ahead.

  Tully squinted as he tried to identify the approaching men. Richard’s hand fell to the handle of his sword.

  Tully shouted. ‘Warwick colours. They carry your banner, my lord!’

  ‘They must be men from the advance party we sent.’ Richard felt a sense of relief which was quickly replaced by concern. ‘It could mean another victory or they could be coming to warn us of danger ahead.’ He held up his hand to stop his men and they waited as the riders approached.

  The leading rider was one of his commanders. ‘Good news, my lord Warwick.’ He reined in his horse and rode closer to Richard. ‘The Welsh are routed.’

  ‘What of the king?’

  The man shrugged his shoulders. ‘The word is he is still in Fotheringay Castle, my lord.’

  It was exactly what Richard had been praying for. ‘And Sir William Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke?’

  ‘Captured, my lord. Together with his brother, Sir Richard Herbert and other nobles.’

  Richard turned to George. ‘It looks as if your men have been spared a fight. We will make camp in Northampton and decide what to do next.’

  The details of the battle began to emerge as more men found their way back to the town of Northampton. The Earl of Pembroke's forces had been driven back by the archers of Robin of Redsdale. The earl and his brother fought back with men wielding poleaxes and nearly won the day, until Richard’s reinforcements arrived. When they saw the banner of the bear and ragged staff the Welshmen broke and ran.

  Richard billeted his men in the old castle of Northampton and found himself more comfortable quarters in a merchant’s mansion overlooking the market square. He slept badly and lay awake in the darkness wondering what the future held. His scouts had returned with news that King Edward remained at Fotheringay Castle, with many of his men deserted. Richard had no wish to confront his former friend until he could be sure it wouldn’t end in a battle.

  Another problem that troubled him was what to do with his prisoners. He could have them locked up, although the earl was well connected and could rally support, even from within the Tower of London. Richard decided to send a message to those who would oppose him. The next day the people of Northampton gathered in the market square to witness the execution of Sir William Herbert and his nobles. Richard watched from a high window and turned away when he heard the crowd cheer. He had beaten the man who played a part in turning Edward against him. It gave him little pleasure. For all his faults, Sir William had been a loyal supporter of the house of York and was merely guilty of underestimating his enemy.

  Richard arrived at Fotheringay Castle with George, Duke of Clarence, only to discover that the king was no longer there. They decided to make it their base for organising a search and sent men to all the seaports to prevent Edward escaping by sea to Burgundy. Although there was no sign of the king, his soldiers captured Earl Rivers and his son John and took them to Kenilworth for trial.

  His brother George arrived from York to plead for the Woodville earl. ‘Remember your promise to me, Richard. You agreed to do your best to reconcile your differences with Earl Rivers.’ He looked exasperated. ‘You can’t just round up all Edward’s nobles and have them murdered without even a trial by their peers.’

  Richard had to tell his brother the truth. ‘I am afraid you are too late. Earl Rivers has already been executed.’

  George was shocked. ‘Dear God. His son as well?’

  ‘They were dangerous, George. If I let them live they would soon have found a way to turn against us.’

  ‘The Earl of Pembroke was following the orders of the king.’ George looked concerned. ‘What crime was Earl Rivers charged with?’

  ‘He ill advised the king through his own greed. He ha
d always worked against us, George. You know it.’

  ‘And his son John, was he guilty of the same?’

  ‘Calm yourself, George. The public response to these executions has not done us any harm. A clear message has been sent to those who would march against us.’ He looked at his brother. ‘I gave orders that their heads were not to be displayed, as they did our father and brother. They were given a Christian burial.’

  George shook his head in disbelief. ‘You have clearly lost touch with what the people think, Richard. I can tell you they are horrified at your action.’ He glared sternly at Richard. ‘And what of Edward? When you find him, will you execute the king?’

  Richard knew his answer was going to surprise his brother. ‘I was going to ask you to escort him to Warwick Castle. He can be safe in your care.’

  Edward relaxed in Richard’s study at Middleham Castle and seemed worryingly unconcerned at his situation. He had been found in the house of one of his supporters and had agreed to be escorted by the Archbishop of York to Warwick Castle, for his own safety. As soon as the Lancastrians realised the king was captive they renewed their revolt in the north. The king’s army would only act on his authority so Richard had no choice other than to move him to Middleham, then to Pontefract Castle, where he could sign the necessary orders. The revolt was soon crushed and the ringleaders executed, although the mood in the country remained on the edge of anarchy as Richard struggled to assert his authority.

  Now Edward had called for Richard to come to Pontefract, as he had something important to say. Edward had been surprisingly amiable about being held under effective house arrest, although there had been an incident the previous week. Edward had been hunting in the castle grounds and almost rode away from his escort. Fortunately the men had been able to stop him escaping. Their captain told Richard that the king’s intentions were clear. He had been testing their resolve.

  Edward didn’t stand when Richard entered the room and sat looking at him for a moment, before speaking. ‘It is my intention to leave for London.’

  Richard tried to hide his surprise. ‘When the time is right, Edward, I will personally escort you back to London.’

  ‘As you did with poor King Henry?’ There was a note of ridicule in Edward’s voice this time.

  Richard felt his anger rising and did his best to control it. ‘London has become a dangerous place these last few months. Every day I’ve had to deal with people taking the law into their own hands.’ He looked at Edward. ‘I’m keeping you here for your own safety and it’s for me to decide when it’s safe for you to return.’

  Edward stood and stared out of the window. ‘Since when was it the place of an earl,’ he turned to give Richard another of his disarming smiles, ‘to decide the king's pleasure to travel as he wishes?’

  Richard heard hooves clattering on the cobble-stones outside and joined Edward at the window. The castle yard was filling with men not in Warwick livery. They were the king’s personal guard. He could also see men wearing the badge of the white boar. Somehow Edward had sent message to his brother, Richard of Gloucester.

  Edward gripped Richard’s upper arm. The pressure of his hand was firmer than necessary and the threat in his voice was obvious. ‘For old time’s sake, Richard, I’ll not have you clapped in irons.’ He released his grip and turned for the door. ‘Take care, Earl Warwick.’

  He left without waiting for an answer. Richard watched through the window as King Edward joined his men in the courtyard below. He couldn’t hear what they were saying although he could see Edward asking questions and looking satisfied with the answers as he put on a thick fur cape and hat. A groom appeared, leading the king’s horse, already saddled and fitted with a bridle, making Richard wonder what had become of his own guards. Without looking back, King Edward led his men out through the castle entrance with a clatter of hooves.

  Richard watched them go then stormed to the guardhouse to confront the guard commander. It seemed inconceivable that the king could simply ride out of one of the best defended castles in the country without even a challenge.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ He looked at their surprised faces and realised that he had somehow been outmanoeuvred by Edward. ‘Why did no one stop the king from leaving?’

  The guard commander explained. ‘Lord Montague, my lord. He ordered us to make way for the king.’

  Richard was thrown. His brother John had finally decided which side he would support and had joined Edward. It shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, as his brother’s son had been promised the hand of Lady Elizabeth, Edward’s eldest daughter, although she was barely four years old. Nevertheless, he was still bitterly disappointed.

  Chapter 25 - Spring 1470

  Richard hammered on the door of George, Duke of Clarence’s lodgings. It took time for the duke’s servants to answer. On Richard’s insistence they roused George from his bed and he reluctantly agreed to see Richard in his rooms.

  ‘What’s going on?’ The duke looked as if he had been drinking.

  ‘Edward is summoning people to York and asking them about a plot.’ Richard lowered his voice, conscious of the danger they could be overheard. ‘To put you on the throne. In his place.’

  George looked worried. ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘My brother, the Archbishop. He sent a rider to warn me. It is only a matter of time before we too are summoned.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  Richard looked at George’s crumpled nightshirt. ‘Get dressed. We have to get back to the safety of Calais until all this dies down.’ He saw George was trying to take in the implications of what he was saying.

  ‘What about Isabel?’

  Richard frowned. His daughter was close to having her first child. ‘She will have to come with us, as will my wife and daughter.’

  ‘She can’t. Isabel will have to stay at Warwick Castle.’

  ‘I can’t risk having her used as a hostage to force us to return. I’m sorry, George. This timing is not of my choosing.’

  A thought occurred to George. ‘They’ll be watching the ports. Surely Edward will guess we’re headed to Calais?’

  ‘Which is why we’ll take the long way round. I’ve sent messages for ships to be waiting at Exmouth. If we are quick we can be safely out to sea before they even realise we are gone.’

  It proved easier than Richard expected to move his family in secret, travelling at night and staying at the houses of loyal supporters. He was able to muster a dozen ships at Exmouth and as many again were to join them from Weymouth. Although feeling immense relief once their fleet headed out to sea, Richard paced the deck, worried about Isabel’s condition. She had been horrified at the prospect of travelling to Calais and Anne nearly persuaded him to leave them to take their chances at Warwick. Part of him wished he had now, as the sea conditions were far from ideal, with a squall on the way.

  The problem was of his own making. Although he had been careful to stay clear of the queen, she would never forgive the execution of her father and brother. Worse still, in an act of bravado, he had ordered the arrest of her mother on charges of sorcery, only to see her released soon afterwards. Now he had no choice other than to keep his family close.

  George joined him on the deck. He wore a thick cape and a fur hat to keep out the Atlantic chill. His usual good humour was replaced by a heavy frown as he regarded the choppy seas ahead of them.

  Richard greeted him with an attempted smile. ‘How is Isabel?’

  ‘Dammed if I know.’ George pulled his cloak more tightly round him as the spray from a wave spattered them with salty water. ‘Your wife is with her, there’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘I’m hoping the weather improves before we reach Southampton.’

  ‘Southampton? We need to give any of the English ports a wide berth!’

  Richard disagreed. ‘My flagship, Trinity, is berthed in Southampton. We’ll be needing her in Calais.’

  George looked amazed. ‘It would b
e madness. For all you know your crew has been replaced with Edward’s men. You can’t just go sailing in and take her?’

  ‘It’s the last thing they’ll expect us to do. Trinity has the best guns of any ship I know. She’s worth it, George.’

  ‘Worth risking all our lives?’

  Richard stared out at the grey waves, now with white crests, a sign of worsening weather. He knew the young duke was right. ‘I’ll have the captain ready to take us out to sea at the first sign of trouble. We have the advantage of surprise, so let’s surprise them!’

  He would have liked to be in the leading ship as they approached the more sheltered waters of the Solent. For once he had to let others take command and keep his family out of harm’s way. Luke Tully had agreed to go in his place, with the best men from Richard’s personal guard. The mission was reckless and carried a high risk, as there was no way of knowing how many of the king’s men could be on board the Trinity.

  They sailed a course close to the wooded shores of the Isle of Wight, hoping to stay out of sight from the mainland before making the turn that would take the fleet into the shelter of Southampton Water. Everything now depended on the element of surprise. Richard knew there was a danger of so many ships raising the alarm, so had sent two-thirds of them the long way around the island. He followed the rest of his fleet into Southampton Water and studied the outlines of the ships moored at the quayside. He could see distinctive high masts in the distance. His banner no longer flew from the topmast, although there was no mistaking the Trinity.

  Like the bait in a trap, his flagship lured them right into the mouth of the old harbour before they realised the danger they were in. The roar of cannons sounded as a heavy iron ball crashed deep into the hull of the leading ship in Richard’s fleet. Soldiers on the deck fell dying and wounded as hidden archers carefully selected their targets. There was a boom as another cannon ball smashed into the rigging of a second ship, shattering the mast and sending the mainsail to the deck in a tangle of rigging.