Richard sought to start the reconciliation of the factions in the realm. But despite his triumphant progress through the Kingdom to York, trouble was brewing – including from the most unlikely quarter
You can see this article below and short descriptions of other major players on a page on this website – just visit ‘Major Players in 1483‘.
Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham
Henry Stafford (1455-1483) was the senior Stafford line. In 1458 his father died, and then his grandfather, great pillar of the Lancastrians, was killed at the hands of the Yorkists in 1460. Buckingham made his peace with the Yorkist regime, marrying Catherine Woodville, sister of the Queen. With income of £3,000 a year, Buckingham was as rich as any other magnate, and after the Readeption was for a while a close member of Edward’s household.
Buckingham had a particularly fine heritage. He was descended from both John of Gaunt, and Thomas of Woodstock, the latter being the fifth son of Edward III. So he had royal blood, a claim to the throne if a suitable number of people popped their clogs. There’s a rather famous point in 1483 where Buckingham reportedly says that he’d forgotten his royal lineage until John Morton reminds him. Unlikely.
In 1483, Buckingham had some gripes. One was his claim on the Bohun inheritance. There had been two famous heiresses Mary and Eleanor. Mary Married Henry IV, and sister Eleanor had married Thomas of Woodstock, and her half of the lands had come down to Buckingham. So, when the Lancastrian line came to an end at Tewkesbury, Buckingham claimed the balance. This was a dispute never resolved -as far as edward was concerned, the land was irretrievably part of the royal lands. But the main problem was his distance from the power and influence that as a royal duke he would have expected. But in 1475 he appeared to fall out of favour with Edward IV, sent home early from France, and from then was excluded from real political power under Edward, despite a brief re-appearance as High Steward to oversee
Although Buckingham was married to a sister of queen Elizabeth, he had been married when he was but 10 years old, and when Catherine was 14; from there he’d spent his wardship in Elizabeth Woodville’s household. For some reason, Dominic Mancini reports that Buckingham was livid at having been made to marry a Woodville, such an appallingly lowborn person; so low born she’d not bought a dowry with her. This assertion is rather difficult to deal with; we have absolutely no other evidence to support the claim; he and Katherine have plenty of off spring, there’s no obvious sign of estrangement. There’s a titchy bit of support for the statement in the fact that Katherine wasn’t at the coronation of Richard in which Buckingham played such a leading role.
Nonetheless, Buckingham appears to have seen Gloucester as the main route back to the limelight in 1483, and to have been keen to see the Woodvilles unseated from power and influence.
In terms of his personal characteristics, it is of course hard to judge. But volatile might be one; the suspicion he flared up and stormed off in France and wasn’t forgiven. He appeared to find it difficult to hold on to loyalties and inspire confidence, but none the less appears to be a good and persuasive speaker. But these are just stabs in the dark – we can’t be sure.
If you want to know more,there’s a very good article here.
Transcript
Now then, it’s the week after the great debate, and you are probably thin k I’ll talk about winners and losers, pros and cons, coins and angels and all that sport of thing. But not a bit of it gentle listeners, because you are actually listening to a previous version of me, a pre great-debate-result version of me. Because, outrageously, we’ve gone on holiday, so this is a pre-recorded episode. It’s a pre-recorded episode, and I am going to tell you that there’s no pre-recorded episode for next weekend, so you can all have a week off. Though with a bit of luck I’ll get the results of the poll up on the FaceBook Page at least. It’ll give me something to do While I’m trying to escape the heat the rest of my family will be lapping up. I hate to whine, but there you are. Ah The sweet rain of England. Best weather in the world.
Today I thought it might be good to spend just a bit of time on a couple of aspects of the goings-on of 1483 that I felt got a little lost; what the women in this story thought of all of this, and Buckingham, who for such a major player I’ve spent remarkably little time on. Before going on to talk a bit about what happened next. Because more things happen., That indeed is the thing about history.
The women thing is, I’m afraid, more than a little difficult – for the same old reason that really we don’t know very much, given the focus on the blokes. Of course Elizabeth Woodville gets a lot of coverage and there will be more. We talked about her involvement in 1483; as with everything, there are so many ways to read it. So, hate it or loathe it, the Queen was presented with cast-iron, honest to goodness no poo evidence that the Woodvilles were indeed held in some suspicion, as she had tried to raise the crowd against Gloucester. There’s little doubt she threw the dice to gain political power, but actually, what her council meeting suggested, of a primus inter pares role for Gloucester was perfectly constitutionally reasonable. Anyway, let’s not pick at old scabs; what we could have talked more about is the removal of her second son, Richard Duke of York, because that’s an extraordinary situation isn’t it? Just 10 years old, his brother in the Tower, deeply suspicions Uncle who’s been bad mouthing the his family with increasing violence. The Westminster sanctuary, presumably still with the massive hole they’d had to make to get the Queen and her kit in there, had been surrounded by soldiers armed to the teeth; Elizabeth would have been painfully aware that sanctuary was a very flexible concept, and had not helped the Duke of Exeter one little bit when he’d been hauled out of it. Nonetheless, when the venerable Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, now 72 approached her she fought hard, and the archbish thought he’d failed in his task – and that the place would be ripped apart by soldiers. So he laid his personal credibility on the line – he gave his word that her little boy would be returned to her safe and sound. Actually, she had zero choice, and gave way at this, trusting that the archbish knew what he was doing. The lad was taken to Westminster palace, and there greeted with smiles and all that sort of thing by Gloucester. Which was great.
And then the next day the very same Gloucester cancelled the very coronation for which he’d been removed. The little boy was never seen outside the Tower of London ever again, or by his mother. Turns out Bourchier hadn’t the foggiest idea what he was talking about.
Either way, we’ll come back to Elizabeth in a couple of episodes; for her time of hard decision making is far from over; what about Cecily Neville, Gloucester’s Mum. It would be fascinating to know how she viewed all these goings on; but unfortunately, we don’t even know if she was in London at the time, and we certainly don’t know whether she approved of what her son did, or abhorred it. If you believe Vergil and More that Gloucester was rotten enough to trawl his mother’s name through the mud by claiming that Edward IVth was the result of a bit of nookey, you’d imagine that relationships were at something of a low point; on the other hand, Gloucester receives the offer of the throne at his mother’s house – it’s really difficult to conceive of him doing that if he’d just been running Mum down so much. As I say there’s almost no evidence of the quality of their relationship and what Cecily thought; there is the fact that Cecily did not attend Gloucester and Anne’s coronation – but then queen mothers generally didn’t. There’s a letter the following year from Gloucester to Cecily asking to be kept up to date with her news; it reads like a friendly letter, based on a normal relationship. But then in 1495 there’s Cecily’s will which makes no mention of Gloucester – though that could of course be to avoid annoying the Tudors. That’s your lot basically. To continue the crime of speculating, given Cecily’s increasing piety, and her adoption of a lay monasticism, it’s tempting to assume that Cecily to some degree withdrew from the responsibility for something about which she could do nothing, and simply did not get involved. Which must have been difficult.
So, then, on to Henry Stafford, second duke of Buckingham. Henry was born in 1455, when his grandfather was Duke; in 1458 his father died, and then his grandfather, great pillar of the Lancastrians, was killed at the hands of the Yorkists in 1460-and so Henry became the 2nd duke. Now lineage was of course super important to every member of the nobility; and Buckingham had a particularly fine heritage. He was descended from both John of Gaunt, and Thomas of Woodstock, the latter being the fifth son of Edward III. So he had royal blood, a claim to the throne if a suitable number of people popped their clogs. There’s a rather famous point in 1483 where Buckingham reportedly says that he’d forgotten this until John Morton reminds him. Poppycock, ladies and gentlemen, of the highest grade of poppy. Though to digress briefly, I am sure you will be most diverted to know that Poppy cock has nothing whatsoever to do with poppies. It is instead a borrowing from the Dutch, pappikak, literally Doll’s poo. Now you might think this to be a negative expression. But you would be wrong – the expression was a positive thing, as in ‘as fine as doll’s poo’. I love the Dutch. It was the Americans who took it and turned doll’s poo into a worthless thing during the 19th century. So there you go. Nothing whatsoever to do with Richard III.
So back to Buckingham – so he’s a posh guy, claims to have forgotten he’s got royal blood, very, very unlikely to have done so. He is also a man with a few gripes. First off, the Bohun’s – a name that maybe will bring a tear of reminiscence to a few eyes, from the glory days of the Normans. As you will all of course be muttering to yourselves over the sound of the iron and the smell damp linen ‘ah! Yes of course, the two famous heiresses Mary and Eleanor-Mary Married Henry IV did she not?’ Yes, yes, she did. And sister Eleanor had married Thomas of Woodstock, and her half of the lands had come down to Buckingham. So, when the Lancastrians finally crashed and burned at Tewkesbury, the heir to Mary’s Bohun lands was presumably the Buckingham lot right? Obviously they’d disappeared in to the royal pocket like a rat up a drain. Buckingham was keen to dig it out again, and it irritated him that he couldn’t really pursue it.
But also, Buckingham was seething with resentment that he’d been banished to his home in the Welsh marches away from the centre of political power. There’s something going on her, and it isn’t Stacey’s mum. It’s not that Buckingham is invisible; there’s a rather nice moment I talked about when Louis of Bruges visited the English court, and there’s a description of Buckingham dancing with the little Elizabeth of York. Buckingham was with Edward at least initially during the invasion of France in 1475.It’s Buckingham that Edward uses to open the parliament that condemns Clarence to death. So he’s around on occasion – but rarely, he’s definitely not in the inner circle. It could be that Buckingham, like Gloucester, vocally disapproved of Edward’s miserable acceptance of the treaty of Picquigny in 1475 – it looks as though he actually left early; it might be that Edward simply didn’t like the cut of his gib. There appears to be a spat between the two when Buckingham quartered his arms with those of Thomas of Woodstock – which just wasn’t very sensitive.
Then there’s something of a small of that well known, over used noun – anti-Woodvillism – if there is such an ism as anti-woodvilleism. Buckingham, was married to a sister of queen Elizabeth, one Katherine Woodville. He had been married when he was but 10 years old, and when Katherine was 14; from there he spent his wardship in Elizabeth Woodville’s household. For some reason, Dominic Mancini reports that Buckingham was livid at having been made to marry a Woodville, such an appalling lowborn person; so low born she’d not bought a dowry with her.
This assertion is rather difficult to deal with; we have absolutely no other evidence to support the claim; he and Katherine have plenty of off spring, there’s no obvious sign of estrangement. There’s a titchy bit of support for the statement in the fact that Katherine wasn’t at the coronation of Richard in which Buckingham played such a leading role. And I guess it gives some other reason for Buckingham’s support for Richard in 1483 – in addition to his alienation from the centre of power, and his rather obvious ambition.
In terms of his personal characteristics…well, it just feels as though there’s got to be something dicey about him-not a very scientific comment, I am forced to admit. But volatile might be one; the suspicion he flared up and stormed off in France and wasn’t forgiven. He appeared to find it difficult to hold on to loyalties and inspire confidence, but none the less appears to be a good and persuasive speaker. But these are just stabs in the dark – we can’t be sure.
What we can be sure of was that he was very important to Richard in his assumption of the throne.
I confess I have found it a little different to put my finger on exactly why Buckingham came to assume such a partnership. I’d have thought that there was plenty of opportunity for Gloucester and Buckingham to have met while they were growing up; their paths would have crossed. But there’s no evidence they were in any way matey, and in fact there’s no hard evidence they actually met. Paul Murray Kendall speculates that it’s the rotten Buckingham that talks the lovely Dickon round that night in Northampton in April 1483 and persuades him to ruthlessly lock up Rivers and usurp the throne. Well, that’s speculation. We see some examples of Buckingham standing shoulder to shoulder with Richard- at the council meeting, in presenting to the London great and the good on 24th June. But whatever it was, the extraordinary grants in Wales is proof enough of how critical Buckingham was to Richard, and the trust he placed in him.
As we will soon see, this is what they call ironic. Ironic with a capital I.
Spookily, the coronation that had been such a problem to arrange for Edward turned out to be a doddle for Richard, and he was crowned on 6th July. Notably, he and Anne were crowned together – the last time king and Queen had been crowned both together was…any guesses out there? Correct, that bloke there doing the ironing, the last time had been Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II. The coronation went ahead with great pomp and ceremony…as you’d expect. You couldn’t install a new king by chucking a crown at him, giving him a sausage for supper and sending him on his way could you now? One of the interesting things that came out of the discovery of Richard in the Car park, with presumably the largest outstanding parking fine in history, was that his diet had improved very considerably near the end of his life. It fits exactly with Richard. Once he’d made his claim to the throne clear on 22nd June, he appeared in public in grand and imperial robes; he wined and dined the London elite – and of course threw the most magnificent of parties at the coronation with 46, yes 46 different courses. I have no idea if sausage was one of them, but I hope it was. You can’t beat a nice sausage. It spoils the flavour.
No idea why I’m talking about sausages, and I offer my formal apology. More relevantly, we are talking about an age where you measured a man and his strength by the size of his retinue and wealth. Richard had to convince the world that he was in control, secure, relaxed, confident. That, in the words of the Vogons, resistance was useless. Richard had go this backside on the cold marble of the English throne; over the next few months we listen the clacking of knitting needles as he looks to knit himself a cover for his backside to bring the warm support he needed to keep his backside where it was.
Richard’s coronation was by all accounts very well attended. But Richard would not have been daft enough to think that all the problems were over, and that all was now love and kisses. If he needed confirmation, the fact that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, didn’t turn up to the banquet would have been indication enough. Bourchier had given his word to Elizabeth, and Bourchier had been made to look like a liar.
Richard knew that there were factions emerging, that he had to reconcile. Obviously there is his affinity, the men from the north. That presented him with a problem. The problem is the north south divide. Many apologies, a digression coming up – the north south divide. The north south divide is of course constantly around these days, with the general air of swank drifting up from the south that makes everyone else grumpy. I’m not sure if you folks listening from outside the UK are aware of his, or even interested, but the south of England and the north of England can feel like too very different places, and I’m told there’s a good deal more prawn cocktail in the south than the north. Though possibly less sausage. but it is not by any means a new phenomenon. No one quite knows where the north south divide starts – as far south as Watford gap, as far north as the Humber. So essentially, I come from no man’s land, the midlands, from the war zone in the middle, a man of split loyalties.
Anyway, this is by no means a new problem, as you regular listeners will know; after all, in AS days there was talk of Northumbria and Southumbria. Northumbria had a distinct and glorious tradition and was the last of the kingdoms to come within the combined Anglo Saxon England. And there was a difference maintained throughout history; much more recently, for example, Richard II had used his men from the north, his Cheshire archers, to keep him on the throne. In the Crowland chronicle in particular, there is a strong subtext that Richard was from the north; that these changes were a northern plot, supported and enforced by northern troops coming down to the city – certainly by the time of the coronation of Richard; and the southerners don’t like it. This couldn’t help Richard; on the one hand he needed his loyalty northerner supporters, and it was only right to reward them. On the other hand, he could not alienate London, or make this feel like a takeover.
Another faction was the household of Edward IV. These were the men, nobility and gentry alike, who had been the core part of Edward IV’s government. They were leaderless since the removal of Hastings, Morton and Rotherham, but Richard was eager to keep them on board. It is for this reason that the changes Richard made after he’d been made protector had, by and large been moderate, and non partisan. The new Chancellor, Bishop Russell, the new keeper of the privy seal was seen as a very reasonable appointment for example. Another example was John Howard; Howard was made Marshall of England and High Steward of England. More than that, Richard had finally completed the job of enticing Howard to his side, when he recognised his claim to be Duke of Norfolk, and confirmed him in the title. In this particular case, Howard was his man from that moment.
Generally, Richard therefore avoided stuffing offices with his friends from the north. One exception was a chap called Francis Lovell who became Chamberlain in place of Hastings. Reconciling Edward IVs largely southern based household was Richard’s main aim, and could be the key to his prospects of staying on the throne.
Obviously, another group was the Woodville affinity; but they were of course essentially flown or irreconcilable. Edward Woodville was with £10,000 and Henry Tudor in Brittany. Equally Dorset had fled Sanctuary, and despite calling out the hounds, Richard had been unable to locate him, so he was at large. The blood of Richard Grey and Rivers was feeding the plants of Pontefract.
And yet another was Stanley, and his wife Margaret Beaufort. Despite having banged Stanley up in jail in the 13th June coup, Richard had quickly realised that here was a man that needed to be reconciled; his power in the north west was formidable; Stanley’s son George, baron Strange was at home, and perfectly capable of raising Lancashire and Cheshire against him. So Richard set him free, confirmed him as Steward of the Royal Household, clapped him on the back and called him his new BFF, and gave him the honour of carrying the mace at the coronation. And now enter Margaret Beaufort stage left, or one of the most delightfully duplicitous exchanges, so delightfully typical of the Wars of the Roses. Margaret had got very close with Edward IV to agreeing her son Henry Tudor’s return to England as the Earl of Richmond before he croaked; and so she spoke to Buckingham, who cleared the way to a conversation with Richard. Margaret spoke to Richard and his chief justice the day before the coronation; and Richard seemed open to the idea. Great news! It probably helped of course that Richard was keen to bring her hubby Stanley inside the tent, so in the spirit of friendliness, he even had Margaret a place of honour at the Coronation, carrying Queen Anne’s crimson train.
But I said duplicitous did I not; for if not already, Margaret was to be in contact with her son and with various disaffected folk. Meanwhile Richard was opening discussions with Duke Francis of Brittany, with less positive suggestions about Henry Tudor’s future.
However, Richard set out just two weeks after his coronation on a tour through England. It could well have been the happiest period of his reign. His progress actually was something of a model other kings might have cared to follow; most kings of England didn’t stray far from the Thames Valley, certainly no further than Watford Gap services – so little wonder if the north felt somewhat disconnected. Richard certainly did the south – up the Thames Valley and over to Gloucester.
At Gloucester, he said fare thee well to his partner in his great enterprise, the silver tongued Buckingham, off to enjoy the fruits of his partnership; to sit down and dribble gently on the parchments confirming he transfer to him of over 53 castles, to chortle with glee over his new powers. He might also have looked forward to the prospect of meeting up with John Morton; he’d made a point of asking Richard to give Morton to him as his prisoner in Brecon. when he got there, he would find silver that silver met with silver, and that his tongue was not the only one to be feared.
Richard then went northwards – Warwick, Coventry, Leicester to put an advance payment down on a car park he’d taken a shine to, Nottingham and finally, in glory and splendour to York, where his support was strongest and where they could welcome back their favourite son. His arrival was greeted by shows and pageants, followed by the Corpus Christi plays for which York was famous- and where he invested the hope of his future, of his new dynasty, his only son the 9 year old Edward of Middleham, as the Prince of wales. Little Edward, object of his mother and father’s hopes, had come to meet Richard at Pontefract, riding in a chariot with two guards running by his side. Which sounds fun for the young prince, less fun for the guards.
The whole trip was carefully planned, He showed himself in confidence and glory, as a worthy new king, impressing with his glory and magnificence. The route was designed to woo the southern lords he needed, and remind the north of their loyalty. He impressed as he went, so that even the virulently hostile chronicler Rous was forced to admit showed him in the best light, as he agreed to remove large areas from royal forest, and everyone hated royal forests, and turned away offers of cash which he, quote ‘declined with thanks, affirming that he would rather have their love than their treasure’. This is not a thing any of my children have said to me. Just to note.
All this was super great. But in the background, plots and strategems were afoot. Margaret Beaufort appears to have been at the very centre of them. The claims of her son Henry Tudor were still pretty remote; but the removal of the princes had suddenly made his claims a lot closer. And Margaret had a plan about how they could be made even better –by bringing together the houses of York and Tudor by the marriage of Henry to Elizabeth of York, Edward and Elizabeth Woodville’s eldest daughter. Now around this time, September 1483, a strong rumour spread like wildfire – that the Princes had been killed. The story goes that this news got back to the queen in sanctuary, and in her fury and distress she listened to Margaret’s idea – and agreed. And in Brittany, Henry Tudor agreed – and found Duke Francis, far from convinced by Richard’s diplomacy, finally happy to support Henry’s bid for power. He helped Henry accumulate men, treasure and ships – and presumably Edward Woodville’s £10,000 must have helped oil the wheels.
Richard meanwhile was very probably aware of some of the goings-on; there had been an attempt to free the Princes which had been thwarted; there had been some disturbances, quickly suppressed, by one John Welles. So as he celebrated at York he was probably aware and preparing- but may not have known the extent of the rebellion.
Because in fact support for the rebellion had spread throughout the south, south of a line from the Thames Valley to the Severn. Margaret’s communication seems to have been active and good, because there was a plan. One centre was in Kent. What was it about the Men of Kent, and the Kentish men? A really, really bolshy lot. Another centre was in central south of England, Wiltshire and Berkshire, with notably yet another Woodville crawling from the woodwork – this time another Richard Woodville, brother of Anthony, and the heir to the Earl Rivers title. You’ve got to say Woodvilles were like cockroaches – as many of them you stamped on another batch would emerge. The third centre was in the South West, where Dorset finally appeared from his life on the run, and Thomas St Leger, the man who’d married Edward IV’s sister Anne after she’d managed to dump the brutal Henry Holland.
The plan was that the men of Kent were to start off proceedings, and march and capture London. The south and south west would then join in from Exeter and Salisbury- and prepare the way for Henry, who would land from Brittany. The date was set around 20th October for the storm to break on Richard’s head.
Who were these rebels and what did they want? Who they were was an alliance of Woodvilles excluded from power – Dorset, Richard Woodville, Edward Woodville in Brittany; but primarily it was the exact group that Richard had been trying to win over – the household men of Edward IV. It’s unlikely these men were motivated by fear of losing their positions under Richard – Richard had afterall confirmed the vast majority in their posts. No, what this seems to have been was a genuine wave of revulsion against the dispossession of Edward IV’s sons. The speed or competence of Richard’s actions in June had overwhelmed resistance and reduced parliament to compliance. But it had apparently not convinced.
So the rising was populated by men of property – this is no peasants revolt, this is a revolt of the well-heeled and well equipped.
The rumour of the Princes’ death had the potential to unwind the whole thing; if the Princes were dead, what then was the point of the rebellion? And this is the genius of Margaret Beaufort’s master stroke; with the combination of Tudor and Edward’s daughter, there was a common cause all could gather behind and support.
But there was another arch schemer involved in all of this – John Morton. There in captivity in Wales, he began to work on the volatile, greedy Buckingham. He worked on his fears – support has spread throughout the south, these were men of substance, outrage at the rumour of the Princes’ death was exciting outrage; Henry Tudor had the support of Duke Francis and had an army at his back – you’ve backed the wrong horse Buckingham. It might have been that Buckingham harboured a desire to take the throne himself- he had a cleaner claim than Henry through Thomas of Woodstock, untainted by bastardy. Of course, there should have been absolutely no prospect of a man so richly rewarded as Buckingham to rebel – but this is Buckingham we are talking about. And astoundingly, Buckingham threw his cap into the ring. Now the rebellion had another centre – Buckingham would march from Wales to link up with the rebels, and surely Richard would be squashed, like a bug.
It’s an astounding piece of treachery. The very man who had probably incited Richard to action, and at very least been his partner-and been richly rewarded; not only made practically viceroy in Wales, but also Richard appeared to have been making moves towards giving him at least a share of the Bohun inheritance. When he heard about it Richard’s rage, outrage and distress reaches down to us over the centuries, in a handwritten note when he wrote to Chancellor Russell on 12th October
“… all well and truly determined…for to resist the malice of him that had best cause to be true, the Duke of Buckingham, the most untrue creature living…we assure you there was never false traitor better purveyed for.”
Now, the sharper of you may have noticed the date – 12th October. But David, I hear you cry, surely some mistake? Forsooth, forsooth, you hath told us 20th October was to be the date?”
Well, therein lies a story of the mistrust, treachery that comes from a usurpation; it’s quite probably that Richard had his great mate Buckingham under observation anyway. And since the attempt to free the Princes, Richard’s spies had been at large; he may not have known exactly what was going to happen, but he had an idea.
But he also had John Howard to thank. Howard had gone into his estates in Sussex early in October, and heard rumours that, quote ‘the Kentish men be up in the Weald’ – the Weald was still, as it had been at the time of Harold II and Billy the Conq a pretty much imprenetrable barrier of woodland and secret ways, the perfect place to gather for rebellion. Howard acted – he sent for more men, he took control of the crossings over the river, blocking the way to London. Confused, the rebellion started too early, and the Kentishmen withdrew westwards to link up with the other groups.
Now Richard was on the move; from 11th October instructions were sent out, assembling a force to muster at Leicester for 20th October. And in the north West, Stanley gathered his men and set out towards Wales, where Buckingham had declared his hand.
Buckingham, had struggled to raise a large army; the Staffords were known as hard grinding landlords. Stanley had stayed loyal –in itself interesting –and Richard’s supporters had blocked the crossings of the River Severn into England.
And then the heavens opened – on 15th October a massive storm broke over the heads of Buckingham’s reluctant army, flooding the river. And Buckingham’s reluctant army was washed away, and Buckingham fled with his servant, Ralph Bannister to hiding in Shropshire.
With this news, the rest of the rebellion collapsed, Richard arrived in Dorset by 8th November, but most of the rebel leaders had already fled. Henry Tudor’s fleet had been scattered by storms, and anyway Richard now controlled the coast – and so Henry slunk back to Brittany, tail between his legs, but tail still firmly attached to his body, to wag another day. Dorset, Morton, the Bishop of Exeter and a whole slew of Edward IV’s old household gentry fled to join Tudor in Brittany.
By 25th November, Richard was back in London, with almost all the fires of rebellion comprehensively doused. He had faced his first challenge, and come through triumphant. And if evidence were needed of Richard’s basic competence, there is evidence here; yes, the rebels had some bad luck, but for the most part Richard appeared well informed, always in control.
We’ll talk a bit more about the outcomes and consequences of the rebellion next time, and hear about the reign of Good King Richard. As I say, that’ll be in a couple of weeks time.
