Richard III
Page 31
Richard continued his march southwards, as he sought to crush the rising early. By Sunday, 2 November, if not earlier, the king and his army had arrived at Salisbury, in the heart of the rebellion in Wiltshire.
Meanwhile, it was not until late October that Henry Tudor finally set sail from Brittany. One surviving document, signed by both ‘Henry of Richmond’ and Jasper Tudor, is dated 29 October, promising to repay Duke Francis a loan of 10,000 livres tournois, ‘on the word of a prince’.60 The bond suggests that Henry himself did not set sail until after that date, probably after receiving news that rebellion had already broken out prematurely.
It was a ‘prosperous wind’ that saw off the fifteen ships which accompanied Henry on his journey to England. Mid-voyage, however, the winds had transformed into a ‘cruel gale’ as a ‘sudden tempest’ scattered the fleet, each being separated ‘from one way from another’ so that some were blown back onto the Normandy coast, others into Brittany. Henry’s own ship was ‘tossed all the night long with the waves’. As dawn broke and the wind calmed, the chalk cliffs of the south coast and the haven of Poole Harbour came into view. Shaken by the storms and their sleepless night, in the gloom of morning light the devastating impact of the storm was revealed: only Henry’s and one other vessel had made it through the night. As the ships drew up closer to the shore, there was worse news to come. The shoreline was ‘beset with soldiers’ from Richard’s army. Henry commanded that no man should land until the rest of the fleet had time to regroup. In the meantime, he sent across several men in a single skiff to the shore to find out the identity of the guards. Navigating the boat out to within speaking distance of the soldiers who, encouraging them to land, called out that they had been ‘sent by the Duke of Buckingham to escort Henry to the camp, which he had nearby with his flourishing army, so that they could join forces and pursue the fleeing Richard’. Henry suspected a trick. He was correct, for by now Buckingham was in Richard’s hands.61
The storms had not only hampered Buckingham’s efforts to gather a force of men; he had struggled to find a place to cross the River Severn. It rained for ten days, causing the river to burst its banks and become a raging torrent. For years afterwards, ‘the Great Water’ would be remembered as a time of death and devastation. The floods were noted in most contemporary chronicles as occurring precisely around the time that Buckingham would have been seeking to raise the standard of rebellion. On 15 October, the chronicle of Bristol’s mayor, Robert Ricart, noted that there was the ‘greatest flood and greatest wind at Bristol and in the county there abouts that ever was seen’; another local chronicler recorded how that same evening there ‘was the greatest wind that was ever heard of, which caused a wonderful great flood … which bore away houses, corn, cattle and drowning above 200 people’.62 Richard would later note ‘how of late through sudden rages and tempests of the sea great parts’ of Somerset, particularly in the lordship of Brean, ‘was drowned and pisshed by inundation of waters’, and ‘inhabitants of the lordship there were put to great danger, fear and loss as notably it is known’.63 Another chronicler also recalled how, that evening, ‘the moon being then eclipsed at the swelling of the seas gave but little light, appearing of divers colours’, with streaks of red, blue and green appearing around the moon during its eclipse, until ‘at the top a little light appeared’ and the moon ‘waxed clear again’.64 There is a modern explanation for this, for there was a total eclipse of the moon on the night of 15 October, when it was also a full moon. The total eclipse lasted from 11.47 p.m. to 00.32 a.m., which could have had an additional effect on the high tides.65 Buckingham could have hardly had any worse fortune.
When Buckingham, who had withdrawn to Weobley, the home of Walter, Lord Ferrers, together with Morton, realised that he was ‘hemmed in’, he decided that there was only one course open to him. Changing his attire, apparently ‘he was finally discovered in the cottage of a certain poor man because the supply of provisions taken there was more abundant than usual’, though it seems that the duke was betrayed by his servant Ralph Bannister.66 Upon his arrest, Buckingham was handed over to Sir James Tyrell, who accompanied the duke on the road to Salisbury, where he was interrogated. Revealing all about the conspiracy, including naming his associates, the duke had hoped that through his confession ‘he would be able to speak with Richard, which he urgently asked for’. Yet there would be no final meeting between the king and the man who had secured him his crown. Buckingham was executed in the marketplace at Salisbury on 2 November, All Souls’ Day, ‘notwithstanding the fact that it fell on a Sunday’.67
13
‘TRUE AND FAITHFUL LIEGEMEN’
Confiscations of the rebel estates began immediately.1 Just as quickly, rewards were parcelled out to ensure the loyalty of the men whose support Richard was now desperately dependent upon. On 2 November, Thomas, Lord Stanley, described as ‘our right trusty and well beloved counsellor’, was granted Buckingham’s former lordship and castle of Kimbolton in Huntingdonshire, a sign of Richard’s relief that Thomas, Lord Stanley, and his brother, Sir William, had chosen the king’s side over Margaret Beaufort.2 Richard was desperate to keep the family firmly on his side. Sir William Stanley was rewarded with the office of chief justice of north Wales on 12 November; Thomas Stanley was granted the office of constable, worth £100 a year, on 18 November, as well as Buckingham’s manor of Thornbury in Gloucestershire. Other grants to the family followed, ‘for the singular and faithful service which they have hitherto done to us not only in favouring our right and title … but also in repressing the treason and malice of our traitors and rebels’.3 There were rewards too for those who had brought the duke to his knees. Buckingham’s captor, Ralph Bannister, was granted the manor of Ealding in Kent, together with a yearly reward of £4 and the keepership of Rochester castle for ‘the taking and bringing of our said rebel into our hands’.4
Other loyal members of the nobility, on whom Richard was now increasingly reliant, would also in time be rewarded for their support. On 30 November the earl of Northumberland was appointed Great Chamberlain.5 The earl was further rewarded with the lordship of Holderness, formerly belonging to Buckingham, and the important constableships and stewardships of Dunstanburgh and Knaresborough, an important sign that Richard’s own regional conflict around Richmondshire with the earl had now come to a close. On 1 December, Northumberland was granted a large parcel of manors in Kent, Essex, Devon, Dorset, Somerset, Suffolk, Gloucester and Wales, ‘for special causes us moving’.
On the following day, 3 November, Richard marched towards Exeter. Passing through Dorset on his journey, Richard arrived at Poole Harbour to be informed that Henry Tudor had landed at the harbour, but had by now chosen to hoist his sails and return to Brittany. It would later be remembered how the king, perhaps in celebration, having ordered the repair of a quay wall, ‘promised large things to the town’.6
Richard’s decision to journey through Devon and to arrive at Exeter took the city officials by surprise, ‘such as sudden that all things could not be so provided in such honourable manner as they would’.7 The king was met at the gates of the city by the mayor and the brethren of the city in their finest array. The recorder of the city made a ‘congratulatory’ oration, for which he was rewarded with a scarlet gown. After the recorder had finished, the mayor delivered his mace to Richard, along with the keys of the city gates and a purse containing 200 nobles. Richard replied ‘very thankfully’ and with ‘very good speeches’ returned the keys and mace to the mayor. He was then led in procession to the bishop’s palace, where he was lodged and ‘very bountifully entreated’ with a full spread of meat and plate ‘sufficient for the king and his whole train’. The king asked the household staff what had become of the bishop, ‘saying he was a wily prelate and had made him good cheer’.8
The prospect of any further uprising was over. News of Buckingham’s execution seems to have resulted in the immediate collapse of the rebellion. ‘Overcome by fear’, Peter Courtenay, the bishop of
Exeter, Dorset and other rebels, ‘or as many of them as could find ships in readiness’, fled to Brittany. Others chose to ‘lay low’ in hiding, under the shelter of friends and later in ‘the protection of holy places’. Most managed to flee across the sea, but not before declaring Henry Tudor as ‘alter rex’ at Bodmin on 3 November. John Cheyne and Giles Daubeney, having fled southwards, made their escape to Brittany with an Exeter rebel, John Halwell, on a boat belonging to Stephen Calmady of Devon.9 Thomas St Leger was not so fortunate: ‘upon a sudden’, he was captured before he could take flight and beheaded at Carfax in the city. ‘To save his life innumerable sums of money had been offered’, the Crowland chronicler wrote, ‘but in vain.’10
The duke of Norfolk was sent to Bodiam Castle in Sussex, to mop up the remaining traces of rebellion. The rebels had locked themselves inside the castle; it took two weeks of besieging the walls to force their surrender. In late November, at Gloucester, ‘evil disposed gentlemen’ had assaulted the king’s officers, leaving the constable of the town ‘beaten and grievously maimed … thereby in despair of his life as it is to us showed to our full great displeasure’.11 In Kent, the archbishop of Canterbury struggled to collect rents from his lands there, requiring Richard to send a letter to the tenants that since the archbishop had been accepted ‘into the good favour of our grace’, failure to pay would be met by ‘our high displeasure at your uttermost peril’.12 In a proclamation sent into the county, Richard again attempted to pacify the Commons by suggesting that his ‘true subjects’ had ‘been abused and blinded’ by the rebels; when they understood their treasons, ‘since have well and truly behaved … for the which the king’s grace standeth and will be to them good and gracious sovereign lord’. A further appeal was made to seize the rebels Sir John Guildford, Sir Thomas Lewkenor, Sir William Haute, William Cheyne, Richard Guildford and Reginald Pympe, with a reward of 300 marks or £10 in land upon their heads, ‘and great thanks of the king’s grace’. It was underlined that anyone harbouring or lodging any rebels in their house, or providing comfort to them after the proclamation had been issued, were to be taken as rebels themselves. Men were also to refrain from stealing the goods and cattle of any rebels, but instead to show them to commissioners appointed by the king, ‘and they that so truly will show it shall be well rewarded, and they that do the contrary shall be punished according to the law’.13
On 9 November, Richard rode into London, where he was met by the aldermen and citizens wearing ‘violet clothing’ beyond Kennington, and taken to the Great Wardrobe at Blackfriars, where he was lodged.14 In a sign of the king’s nervousness that further uprisings might take place, he did not surrender the Great Seal to the Chancellor until 26 November.15 Meanwhile, searches were made for rebels who had gone into hiding, with Richard ordering a review of whether sanctuaries such as at Beaulieu Abbey were in fact legitimate.16
In the aftermath of the rebellion, it is hardly surprising that a cloak of suspicion shrouded the royal court. There was a heightened state of security surrounding the king, with new locks added to Richard’s chamber doors. It seemed that there were now few families Richard would be able to trust. Indirectly, the rebellion had touched many of the southern noble families, leaving the king uncertain over whose loyalty exactly he held. Few were spared from his paranoia; after years of service to the crown, John, Lord Audley, whose brother Thomas had been counted among the Dorset rebels, was removed from the commissions of the peace in the south and Midlands. Robert, Lord Poynings, whose relative Edward was attainted for his part in the Kentish uprisings, was also indicted, while Richard, Lord Dacre, the father of the rebel Thomas Fiennes, was removed from the commissions of the peace, as were Thomas, Lord Lawarre, in Southampton and Sussex and John, Lord Berners, in Essex. Though many later recovered Richard’s confidence, Richard’s sweeping suspicions even caused him to wrongly confiscate the lands of Sir John Donne, the brother-in-law of William, Lord Hastings, who was able to clear his name by autumn 1484 yet would never regain his offices at Calais.17 Even in his own government departments, Richard did not feel secure. On 22 November, Richard Bell was stripped of his office as a clerk of the privy seal. Bell was replaced by Richard’s ‘trusty servant’ Robert Bolman, for his diligent service ‘specially now in this our great Journey’.18
Not only had the rebellion lasted for nearly a month, it had encompassed a far larger geographical area than the later Act of Attainder was keen to suggest. One contemporary London source described the rebellion as affecting ‘Kent to St Michael’s Mount’.19 While Richard had been fortunate that it had been crushed before any serious armed confrontation was able to occur, it was undeniable that the rebellion had shaken Richard’s new regime to its foundations. These were not disaffected outsiders, but the very opposite: revolt had taken place in the very heart of government, the king’s household itself. Of the ninety-eight men later named in an Act of Attainder, over a third were in Edward IV’s service; the total number may even be nearer half. Five of Richard’s own yeomen of the crown were attainted, while an additional four were hanged at Tyburn for treason. Thirty-three rebels had been justices of the peace, with ten having been elevated by Richard himself. Three, John Trefry in Cornwall, John Wingfield in Norfolk and William Berkeley in Southampton, were even sheriffs, vital linchpins of law and order in their regions. Others had recently received royal grants from Richard just weeks before, including Walter Hungerford and Sir Thomas Arundel.20 Almost all of the men whom Richard had been able to rely upon being deployed against Sir Edward Woodville in May 1483 now chose to join the rebel forces.21
Above all, the rebellion was a rising whose heart lay at the centre of the former household of Edward IV. Of the dead king’s esquires of the body, twenty-four were from the south, of which eleven rebelled; of the remaining thirteen, five had already been removed from the commissions of the peace by Richard in the summer of 1483, while two more would rebel the following year.22 Of the king’s knights of the body, six of the ten knights who represented southern counties chose to rebel.23 The devastating collapse in the structure of authority in the southern counties is revealed in the striking fact that 48 per cent of those knights and gentlemen who served as sheriffs in fourteen southern counties from Cornwall to East Anglia between 1478 and 1482 joined the rebellion.
Richard’s victory had been, the Crowland chronicler dryly noted, ‘over an enemy without a battle’, yet the costs of raising an army had come at ‘no less expense than if the armies had fought to hand’.24 Richard was forced to approach the lending markets in the capital for help. The merchant Richard Gardener lent the king 100 marks ‘upon a pledge of a salt of gold with a cover … garnished with silver and precious stones’ that belonged to Richard. The mayor and aldermen of London lent a further £100 after Richard pledged to them ‘a coronalle of gold garnished with many other great and rich jewels’.25 According to the Great Chronicle, the loans were not so much requested as required: ‘he instanced them himself … to lend unto him certain sums’.26 Richard was even forced to sell 275 pounds and 4 ounces of silver and gilt plate, including seven pots, five bowls, twenty-four platters, twenty-two dishes and twenty-one saucers worth £550 13s 4d sold to the goldsmith Sir Edmund Shaa on 23 December.27 Nevertheless, Richard spent a further £764 17s 6d for ‘certain plate … for our year’s gifts against Christmas last past and for other jewels’ that had been purchased by Shaa ‘and delivered to our own hands’.28
As Christmas approached, Richard was in a generous mood. On 3 December, Richard directed that £100 be paid ‘unto our welbeloved servants the grooms and pages of our chamber … for a reward against the Feast of Christmas next coming’.29 On 8 December, Richard granted an annuity of twenty marks to Joan, the late wife of John Malpas and later John Peysmersh, ‘for her good service to the king in his youth and to his mother the duchess of York’.30 The wife of one of the king’s rebels, Alexander Cheyne, Florence, was taken ‘into our protection, safeguard and defence’, with her lands and goods protected, ‘for th
e good and virtuous disposition that Florence … is reputed to be of’.31
These were not isolated cases. Richard made various donations and annuities, both to individuals and institutions. At the Epiphany celebrations on 6 January, at a banquet sitting crowned at Whitehall, Richard gave the mayor and aldermen of London a gold cup ‘garnished with pearls and other precious stones’ to be used in the chamber of the Guildhall. Displayed at the following council meeting a week later, it was also declared ‘how the King, for the very great favour he bears towards this City, intended to bestow and make the borough of Southwark part of the liberty of the City, and also to give £10,000 towards the building of walls and ditches around the said borough’.32 Yet the grant of such a huge sum of money never arrived; nor did the city authorities ever remind the king of his lavish generosity that night, perhaps suggesting that they recognised the king’s mood and actions may have been influenced by something other than the Christmas spirit.
As the Christmas and Epiphany celebrations drew to a close, on 10 January Richard journeyed to Canterbury, at the heart of the recent rebellion.33 Richard’s visit had a sole purpose: to restore order and leadership to a county destabilised by rebellion and the desertion and flight of the rebels, many of them prominent members of the local gentry. While at Sandwich on 16 January, the sheriffs in Kent were ordered to gather all men between the age of sixteen and sixty to appear in person and swear an oath of loyalty to the king. The text of the oath underlined that not only were men to swear on the Holy Evangelists that they would be a ‘true and faithful liegeman’ to the king, but that they also ‘in his cause and quarrel at all times shall take his part and be ready to live and die against all earthly creatures’, especially ‘to the resistance of and supressing of his enemies, rebels and traitors if I shall any know’.34