Foundation

by Peter Ackroyd

  In April 1477 Clarence accused one of his wife’s attendants, Ankarette Twynyho, of having murdered her mistress with ‘a venomous drink of ale mixed with poison’; an armed gang of his men seized the unfortunate woman and took her to Clarence’s town of Warwick where she was hanged. It was a form of judicial murder. Three months later one of the squires of his household was charged with necromancy in pursuit of the king’s death and, on being pronounced guilty, was drawn to the gallows at Tyburn. On the following day Clarence came to the royal council and caused to be read a proclamation of the man’s innocence; Clarence then withdrew. He had effectively challenged the king’s honesty as well as his system of justice. Edward therefore summoned Clarence to appear before him and, in the presence of the mayor and aldermen of London, declared that he had acted ‘as if he were in contempt of the law of the land and a great threat to the judges and jurors of the kingdom’.

  At the beginning of 1478 a session of the parliament house was summoned where, in front of the lords, the king accused his brother of various crimes against the throne; some witnesses were called, but it was clear that they had been instructed in advance. The duke defended himself as best he could, even pledging to endure trial by combat, but the assembled lords declared him to be guilty of treason. The lords of the parliament were no doubt bound to support the king’s wishes in the matter, and did not need to be duped into delivering their verdict. Yet the evidence was weak and perhaps concocted. Clarence was taken to the Tower where, a few days later, he was murdered by surreptitious means. It has often been stated that he was drowned in a butt of malmsey wine; this curious detail may, oddly enough, reflect its accuracy. It might indicate, however, that he was drowned in his bath; bathtubs were often made out of sawn-down wine barrels.

  The king had killed the elder of his two brothers by dubious means. It was an act of ruthlessness that sealed the supremacy of the king. A soothsayer had prophesied that the reign of Edward would be followed by one whose name began with ‘G’. So George, duke of Clarence, was despatched. The name of the younger brother, Gloucester, obviously did not occur to him. It was said at the time that the queen, and her Woodville relations, had also been eager to destroy Clarence; his eloquence and fair looks posed a challenge to her young sons in the event of Edward’s death. Rumour was piled upon rumour; the murderous court was filled with shadows and suspicions. The path to glory for Edward IV had once been carved through the corpses of his enemies; now it mounted over the body of his brother. The king, according to the Crowland Chronicle, ‘performed the duties of his office with such a high hand, that he appeared to be dreaded by all his subjects, while he himself stood in fear of no one’.

  Apart from consolidating his rule, and maintaining his royal profits, Edward spent a great deal of time in arranging as many advantageous marriages as possible for his immediate kin. His investments in wool and cloth, as a working merchant, were small in comparison with the investment in his family. In all he had three sons and seven daughters; two of them died in infancy, leaving two sons and six daughters. The merry-go-round began, with daughters being betrothed to the heirs of Scotland, France and Burgundy. The prince of Wales, Edward, was played as a bargaining chip with Brittany. The king wanted hard money in exchange; he did not wish to pay the dowries for his daughters, in particular, and so engaged in prolonged negotiation to avoid that necessity. In fact none of his children were married by the time of his death, for the principal reason that they were still too young. All his plans, intentions and schemes came to nothing. The thousands of words spent in speeches and diplomacy vanished into the air.

  His younger brother was more secure than ever. Richard of Gloucester remained the paramount lord of northern England. The Percy family were supreme in Northumberland, and the East Riding of Yorkshire, but the rest of the north came under the direct control of Gloucester. Edward had no reason to doubt his loyalty, however, and he seemed by far the best choice to be named ‘Protector’ of England and of the king’s eldest son.

  The moment came sooner than expected. In the spring of 1483 Edward IV became mysteriously and dangerously ill. It is reported that he caught cold on a fishing trip. Commynes says that he died of ‘quaterre’ or apoplexy. The Crowland Chronicle states that he lay down ‘neither worn out with old age nor yet seized with any known kind of malady’. There is a suggestion of death by poison. In truth the only malady may have been that of self-indulgence; he ate and drank copious amounts; he had grown fat and debauched. Only a very pious king could avoid such a fate. Edward IV expired in his fortieth year.

  Edward died without debts, the first king to remain solvent for 200 years. It was, perhaps, his greatest achievement. He had made no great legislative or judicial advantages, but he had at least consolidated the role and power of royal government. He had learned to make it work after the intermittently weak reign of Henry VI. That was the sum of it. The fact that England emerged from his reign more prosperous than before has everything to do with the underlying strength and purposefulness of a growing nation.

  Edward was not strong enough, in any case, to ensure that his eldest son would be safely crowned as his successor. The warden of Tattershall College in Lincolnshire wrote to the bishop of Winchester that ‘for now our sovereign lord the king is dead, whose soul Jesu take to his great mercy, we know not who shall be our lord nor shall have the rule about us’. Yet the transition appeared to have been immediate and graceful. Edward, prince of Wales, was acclaimed as Edward V.

  The young heir apparent was at Ludlow, near the border of Wales, at the time of his father’s death; he was in the company of his uncle, Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers, when he was summoned back to London by his mother. A council had been called in the capital, of which the principal member was Lord Hastings. Hastings, like Gloucester, was loyal to the Yorkist monarchy rather than to the Woodville family; when he learned that the queen had asked her brother to guard her son’s return to London with as large a force as he could assemble, he sensed the possibility of an unwelcome show of strength. He threatened to retire to Calais if the Woodvilles attempted to overawe the city, and at the same time he wrote to Gloucester with the troubling news.

  Elizabeth Woodville then agreed to a compromise in which the young king would have an escort of no more than 2,000 men. Gloucester had been alerted to the possibility that the Woodvilles would control the king in more than name, however, and that they would supplant his role as the rightful Protector of the realm. He marched from his northern lands and joined his supporter, the duke of Buckingham, in Northampton at the end of April. This was just ten miles north of the place where the royal party had halted on their march to London; Stony Stratford was at the junction of Watling Street and the Northampton Road.

  The two sides hailed each other with expressions of friendship. Rivers and his companions greeted the two dukes and entertained them at a house close to Northampton itself; they spent a convivial evening, but on the following morning Rivers was arrested and on charges of treason sent to a northern prison. Gloucester and Buckingham then rode out to Stony Stratford, and informed the young king that his uncle and others of his affinity had been engaged in a deep conspiracy against him. Edward objected, and protested that ‘he had seen nothing evil in them and wished to keep them unless otherwise proved to be evil’. But the force of a fourteen-year-old will was no match for that of Gloucester. Gloucester also informed the king that Rivers had played some part in the dead king’s debaucheries, thus fatally weakening him; this was in keeping with the strong moralism of his character. The young king remarked that he had full confidence in his mother, to which Buckingham replied that he should put no faith in women.

  When the news of the arrest reached London the Woodville family and its supporters were in alarm. They tried to raise an army, but London was barren soil for them. So the queen took her other son and her daughters into the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. This was the second occasion when she had sought the protection of the holy place, but the circum
stances were now infinitely more dangerous. Two families were vying for control; no council was strong enough, and no group of nobles powerful enough, to come between them. The dead king should have foreseen the consequences of his actions, in building up two centres of over-mighty subjects, but he had made no effort to forestall them. So now the queen sat down among the rushes strewn on the floor of the sanctuary, surrounded by ‘much heaviness, rumble, haste and business, carriage and conveyaunce of stuffe into Sanctuarie, chests, coffers, packs, fardels, trusses, all on men’s backs, no man unoccupied, some lading, some going, some discharging, some coming for more, some breaking down the walls to bring in the nearest way …’.

  Gloucester had taken immediate action to secure the person of the monarch in order to underline his authority in any struggle with the Woodvilles. He wrote to the council, and to the mayor of London, insisting that he had acted to preserve the life of the king and that he had no designs upon the crown. On 4 May he brought Edward V to London and, as a sign of his good faith, he insisted that all the lords and aldermen should swear an oath of fealty to their new monarch. Edward was taken first to Ely Place, but then was removed to the Tower of London as the appropriate place to prepare for his coronation.

  Six days later Gloucester was appointed as Protector, although the length and extent of his protection was not made clear. The coronation itself was to be held on 22 June, and at that point the young king could declare himself ready to rule on his own account. That might be the wish of his mother. Henry VI had been fit to rule at the age of fifteen; Richard II assumed the duties of kingship at the age of seventeen. So in theory Gloucester had precious little time to enforce his authority. He may also have feared that the Woodvilles were set upon his destruction.

  The fact that the queen herself remained in sanctuary demonstrated the uncertainty and danger of the situation. One of Gloucester’s first actions as Protector was to remove the kin and allies of the Woodvilles from positions of influence. In that decision he seems to have had the support of the majority of the royal council, who did not see the dismissals as part of any plot to seize the crown. Gloucester also rewarded his allies. The duke of Buckingham, for example, was granted control of Wales and its border lands; it was a happy coincidence, perhaps, that he also usurped the power of the Woodvilles in that region.

  The chroniclers of the period concur that by the end of May Gloucester had prepared himself to seize the crown; hindsight may be the real judge here. It is possible that Gloucester himself did not know, or was not sure, what to do; he recognized as well as anyone, from the history of his own family, the power of chance and the unexpected.

  The first real sign of his intentions came in a letter to his northern allies on 10 June, in which he asked them to come to his aid ‘and assist us against the queen, her blood adherents and affinity, which have intended and daily doeth intend, to murder and utterly destroy us and our cousin, the duke of Buckingham, and the old royal blood of this realm …’. His words suggest fear and insecurity in equal measure. He did not mention Hastings as possible victim of these intrigues, because he now had cause to suspect him as well. It seems likely that Hastings had become aware of Gloucester’s decision to supplant the young king, and had decided to resist the attempt; all of the chroniclers report his loyalty to Edward.

  On 13 June, at nine in the morning, Gloucester joined the council at the White Tower of the Tower of London in a good humour. There is a lively account of the meeting by Thomas More, in his life of Richard III; the record has often been treated with scepticism, but More’s principal source was undoubtedly John Morton who as bishop of Ely was present on the occasion. ‘My lord,’ the duke of Gloucester said to the bishop, ‘you have very good strawberries in your garden in Holborn. I request you let us have a mess of them.’

  ‘Gladly, my lord,’ the bishop replied. ‘Would to God I had some better things as ready to your pleasure as all that.’ The bishop despatched his servant, and Gloucester retired to his chamber. He returned to the council, an hour later, in a much altered state. He was now in a sour and angry mood; he had a habit, when perplexed or enraged, of chewing his lower lip. ‘What do those persons deserve,’ he asked the councillors, ‘who have compassed and imagined my destruction?’

  Hastings was the first to answer. ‘They deserve death, my lord, whoever they are.’

  ‘I will tell you who they are. They are that sorceress, my brother’s wife [Elizabeth Woodville] and others with her.’ He then named Elizabeth ‘Jane’ Shore, who had been Edward IV’s mistress, a most unlikely associate of the queen. At this point he pulled up the sleeve of his doublet, and showed to the council his withered left arm. This deformity was not a new one – More says that the arm ‘was never other’ – but it served the purpose of proving witchcraft against his opponents. Then Gloucester turned on Hastings himself and furiously accused him of treason. Hastings was bundled away and summarily executed, beheaded on a log of wood that lay close to the door of the Tower chapel.

  The Great Chronicle of London, compiled towards the end of the century, concluded that thus ‘was this noble man murdered for the troth and fidelity which he bore unto his master’, the ‘master’ being the young king held in the Tower. By swiftness and surprise Gloucester had managed to destroy the man whom he suspected of barring his path to the throne. It seems likely, too, that Gloucester had been given information that Hastings had decided to attempt a rescue of the young king from confinement; this may help to explain his impassioned letter to his northern allies on 10 June.

  On 16 June Gloucester’s personal troops surrounded the sanctuary at Westminster Abbey, where the king’s younger brother was still being kept. The queen herself was persuaded to yield up her son by the persuasions of the archbishop of Canterbury, who argued that the heir apparent needed the company of his younger brother. The prelate declared that, on his ‘wit and trouth’, he would preserve the safety of the boy and that he would return him to her after the coronation. ‘As far as you think I fear too much,’ the queen replied, ‘be you wel ware that you fear not too little.’ She may have come to her decision in the knowledge that Gloucester’s troops might force themselves into the sanctuary and remove her son by violent means.

  She surrendered Duke Richard with the words ‘Farewell my own sweet son, God send you safe keeping, let me kiss you once again before you go, for God knows when we shall kiss together again.’ He was then escorted to the Tower to join his brother for the coming coronation. Nine days later the queen’s brother, Earl Rivers, was beheaded in Pontefract Castle. ‘I hold you are happy to be out of the press [of London]’, an adviser wrote to the Lord Chancellor, ‘for with us is much trouble and every man doubts other.’

  The news of the death of Hastings had already provoked consternation in London, only quelled by the gentle ministrations of the mayor who claimed that there had indeed been a plot against the Protector’s life. Now the time had come for Gloucester to justify himself to the citizens and prepare them for his seizure of the crown. On 22 June a tame doctor of theology, Ralph Shaw, delivered a sermon at St Paul’s Cross – the main centre for government proclamations in the period – in which he stated that Gloucester was the only legitimate son of Richard, duke of York, and thus the only true candidate for the throne. Another report, duly circulated at the time, declared that the two young princes in the Tower were also bastards. It is most unlikely that either claim had much substance, but it is possible that Gloucester believed one or both of them. Wherever a moral high ground was to be taken, he seized it with alacrity.

  He could easily have convinced himself, for example, that Edward IV had what was called a ‘pre-contract’ with another woman and that his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was thereby fraudulent. He had also seen at first hand the debauchery of Edward’s court, and may have surmised that the occupant of the throne was in truth not king at all. Ambition might breed in him a false sense of duty. Fear also was an element in his calculation. Edward V, if he were crowned king,
would have no compunction in destroying the man who had killed his uncle. Gloucester was obliged to move quickly.

  Two days after Shaw’s sermon the duke of Buckingham, Gloucester’s paramount ally, made a speech to similar effect before the mayor and aldermen of London in the Guildhall. Once more the dubious claim to the throne was delivered with much earnestness and piety – and, as the Great Chronicle of London puts it, ‘without the impediment of spitting’. The response of the Londoners was, by all accounts, lukewarm to the point of tepidity; the few calls of ‘yeah, yeah’ at the end were uttered ‘more for fear than for love’. The servants of Buckingham roused one or two apprentices to cry out ‘God save King Richard!’ and as a result the event was deemed to have been a great success.

  On the next day the parliament assembled at Westminster, and a roll of parchment announcing Richard’s title to the throne was presented to the Lords and Commons. It was given unanimous consent by these various worthies from towns and shires, and on 26 June a large concourse proceeded with Buckingham to Gloucester’s mansion in London, Baynard’s Castle, where the roll was read out to him; he was then exhorted to take up the crown and, after a period of modest reflection, he decided so to do. He was therefore proclaimed as Richard III.

  King Richard rode in state to Westminster Hall where he was seated in majesty upon the marble chair of King’s Bench; this was the seat in which the monarch reposed when he was dispensing justice. Richard had immediately taken on the role of the wise and just king. He delivered a speech to the Lords and Commons, in which he pleaded for fairness and equity in the proceedings of justice. No man was outside the law. All parties should be treated equally. This may be considered a reproof to Edward IV, whose family interests often led him to break or bend the law for immediate profit.