The King's Grave: The Discovery of Richard III's Lost Burial Place and the Clues It Holds (13 page)

As Richard and his fellow mourners processed towards Fotheringhay, York’s martial prowess was remembered and honoured. York’s epitaph, composed by the heralds, was given due prominence; it celebrated all his achievements and paid particular attention to one stirring feat of arms. At Pontoise, in 1441, the duke had come close to capturing the French monarch Charles VII in an audacious night-time raid. York was at this stage King Henry VI’s representative in France and his royal lieutenant. In Charles, he had faced a rival to Henry’s claim to rule over the country and he decided to confront his challenger personally. On 20 July 1441 York’s forces, showing great daring, crossed the River Oise at night, surprised and routed the French troops guarding the crossing and closed in on the French king’s residence. They were poised to capture Charles VII, who only escaped from their clutches by fleeing his dwelling with moments to spare, leaving a bed still warm when the English soldiers arrived. It was the exceptional bravery of one of the French king’s followers, Guillaume du Chastel – who sacrificed his life to buy precious time for Charles’s escape – that prevented York from achieving an astonishing success.

This was an action Richard sought to emulate. His book collection showed a very real piety, and also a fascination with the cult of chivalry. In one book, a collection of romances, Richard had written one of his mottoes, ‘tant le desieree’ (‘I have longed for it so much’), at the bottom of the manuscript page of the story of Ipomedon, the ‘best knight in the world’. There was a yearning here, a yearning for a noble cause, seen in Richard’s opposition to the peace treaty with Louis XI at Picquigny in 1475, and his wish – alongside his brother Clarence – to support his sister Margaret, Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, with an army when her lands were threatened by the French king. But such aspirations came to nothing.

In the summer of 1477 Richard’s brother Clarence was arrested and put on trial. According to Dominic Mancini, Richard believed the Woodvilles to be behind this, and feared he was also at risk. No contemporary source implicated him in his brother’s arrest, and even Polydore Vergil (who claimed to have got his information from questioning Edward’s surviving councillors) put the blame firmly on the king and did not mention Richard at all. It was only in Thomas More’s account that Richard became involved. More reported the opinions of ‘some wise men’, that Richard was not dissatisfied with the arrest and subsequent execution of his difficult older brother, and may have welcomed it as removing one barrier between himself and the throne he was already planning to usurp. However, More did remain noticeably cautious, adding, ‘of all this point there is no certainty, and whosoever divineth upon conjectures, may as well shoot too far as too short.’ Later Tudor histories overrode such caution and by Shakespeare’s time Richard was portrayed as the undoubted architect of Clarence’s misfortune.

Mancini’s contemporary account was very different, portraying Richard overcome with grief at his brother’s death. It is true that Richard had benefited from a share of Clarence’s lands, but this did not make him responsible for his overthrow. It is also said that the trial of Clarence could not have proceeded if Richard had stood by his brother and resolutely opposed it. Yet when both brothers had wanted to lead an army to the aid of their sister Margaret, Dowager Duchess of Burgundy in February 1477, the king, strongly influenced by the Woodvilles, had thwarted their demands.

Mancini clearly stated that the queen and her Woodville relatives were behind the fall of Clarence and Richard also felt he was in danger. This account is confirmed by important new evidence of Richard retaining a mass of supporters in the north, as if he were under threat of attack. In July 1477, within weeks of Clarence’s arrest, Richard demanded that all the tenants of the bishopric of Durham – lands where he held a strong influence – swear an oath of loyalty to him and be prepared to fight on his behalf. It was a dramatic measure, one usually only undertaken at a time of war.

The archival discovery begins: ‘At the court held in the month of July 1477 all the tenants subscribed to an oath – the tenor of which follows.’ The oath is then given, to be sworn in English, with each man’s hand placed upon the Bible as he repeats it: ‘I become true servant to my lord of Gloucester and faithfully promise to be ready to do him service as well in time of war as in peace [as] next mine allegiance … at all times when I shall be required by the officers of the said duke … and with none other ride, nor go, nor do service. And truly behave me in all other things as a true servant ought to do to his lord, so help me God and holy doom and this book.’

The new Bishop of Durham, William Dudley, had already allowed Richard to tap the resources of the bishopric, appointing his men to important administrative posts within it, but this was a remarkable declaration of intent. Such force was not, in the event, needed, but when Clarence was executed on 18 February 1478 Richard swore that he would be avenged. And within three days of that execution he spoke in the preamble of his religious foundation at Middleham about the mutability of human fortunes, the unworthiness of the individual and the trials and tribulations that a man faced in the world. The phrases he used were more than conventional. ‘Knoweth it have pleased Almighty God,’ Richard wrote, ‘to enable, enhance and exalt me.’ Although only a younger son, he had been raised to great heights and honoured with great riches, and above all, at this time of peril, through God’s favour ‘had been delivered from all evil and hurt’.

In the last years of Edward IV’s reign Richard came more rarely to court. He busied himself in the north. He had now achieved a good working relationship with the Earl of Northumberland, and the two respected each other’s areas of influence. Richard had brought men from both the Neville and Percy affinities into his own service, healing the divisions between the two families that had plagued northern society for a generation. His councillors were fully employed as arbitrators in local disputes, and in one case, successfully resolved in April 1478, Richard expressed his desire to see ‘good concord, rest and friendly unity’ between the two parties, ‘for the peace and weal [well-being] of the country in which they lived’.

Richard’s concern for justice was now firmly established. In 1480 a humble peasant, John Randson of Burntoft in County Durham, appealed to him in a dispute with Sir Robert Claxton, one of the leading gentry of the region. Randson complained that he was being prevented from working his land. Claxton was the father of one of Richard’s retainers and the father-in-law of another. Yet after investigating the dispute, Richard did not hesitate to intervene on behalf of the lesser man, warning Claxton ‘so to demean you that we have no cause to provide his lawful remedy in this behalf ‘. Most lords would have supported the interests of their retainers; Richard’s impartiality and sense of fairness won him the respect of northern society.

That respect was cemented by his military leadership. ‘Such was his renown in war,’ Mancini said, ‘that all difficult tasks were entrusted to him.’ Richard’s greatest martial opportunity lay not in a war with France but with border warfare against Scotland. He took the initiative against the Scots, leading vigorous raids into their territory in 1480 and 1481. And here, in the summer of 1482, he achieved his greatest success, leading an army into Edinburgh and also restoring the town of Berwick to English rule.

The recapture of Berwick was a triumph that won fulsome praise from Edward IV. On 25 August 1482 Edward wrote happily to Pope Sixtus IV: ‘Thank God, the giver of all good gifts, for the support received from our most loving brother, whose success is so proven that he alone would suffice to chastise the whole kingdom of Scotland.’ The
Croyland Chronicler,
perhaps reflecting the views of the Woodville faction at court, commented disapprovingly that the campaign had used up much money and achieved little, but few agreed with such sentiments. William, Lord Hastings and the Calais garrison fired their guns in celebration on hearing that Richard had reached Edinburgh. London merchant George Cely wrote appreciatively of the many Scottish towns and villages taken. And the recapture of Berwick delighted the country. ‘I was a captain ere Berwick was won’ became a popular saying – even finding its way into an Eton school book. Richard conducted the campaign with skill, cooperating well with the Earl of Northumberland and showing good political judgement as well as military ability.

There was a telling moment towards its end. The Scottish Duke of Albany, whom the English had supported as a challenger to the Scottish king, James III, came to terms with James’s regime, and began organizing an army for the relief of Berwick, whose castle was still holding out against an English besieging force. Richard challenged him and Albany dissimulated, saying it was only a ploy to satisfy the Scottish council. Richard was unconvinced, and his response was as direct as Albany’s was duplicitous. He declared forcefully that if Albany opposed him at Berwick, ‘he would defend the besiegers or die in the attempt.’ Albany backed down.

Victory in the war against Scotland sealed Richard’s reputation in the north. He was given the wardenship of the West March for life. His achievement was further rewarded by the creation for him in February 1483 of a county palatine, an area that Richard would have governed with special authority and autonomy from the rest of the country. This comprised Cumberland and a large stretch of south-west Scotland, which it was his declared intention to conquer. By such means, Mancini related, Richard put as large a distance as possible between himself and the queen and her family.

But beneath the joy Edward IV was presiding over a dangerously fractured realm. When the king was no longer there to hold its pieces together, it would split asunder.

5

The Discovery of the Church and the Location of the Nave

Day Three

Monday, 27 August 2012

I
LEAVE MY
apartment and cross town to get settled into the Belmont Hotel, the base booked by the production company and where I’ll be staying for the rest of the dig with the DSP film crew. By the time I arrive at the Social Services car park, it’s midmorning. The excavator is quiet and there’s no driver. Mathew Morris and the team got Trench Two dug out yesterday so Stevie’s not needed. We’re right on schedule.

The northern end of Trench One, where the remains were uncovered, has no medieval archaeology whatsoever. Richard Buckley, who has arrived to investigate, believes there could be any number of reasons for this; it’s all guesswork at this stage. Most likely, there is simply no medieval archaeology in this part of the site. Or, when the Victorians built their outhouse, as shown by the goad maps, they destroyed the medieval archaeology and just threw it all away. Or, the Church of the Greyfriars is on the south side of the car park.

My heart lurches. If the church is on the south side it’s game over. With so much development there, Richard’s grave would be under one of the buildings, lost for ever. Richard Buckley, seeing my concern, gives me a shoulder hug. ‘It’s only day three, Philippa – and only day one of the real archaeology. There’s a long way to go yet.’

We discuss the coming two–week project and agree that on Friday, 31 August, at the end of the first week, we’ll have an on-site meeting to assess progress and consider the siting of Trench Three for the final week’s investigation. Trench Three is to be dug either at the northern end of the site, in the former grammar school car park, or at the southern end, across the main parking area in the Social Services car park.

The weather is fine again with no rain. Trench Two is showing what looks like an existing medieval wall and a medieval robbed-out wall, running north–south. There also appears to be a mortared floor in the centre. It’s encouraging, Buckley explains, to have medieval deposits poking through already and he is particularly pleased with progress in Trench Two. He shows me how the team are cleaning the site and removing the debris to reveal what is beneath. This is all fine, but I can’t stop wandering over to the northern end of Trench One. Staring at the gouged-out earth, I’m willing something to appear. I feel that if I gaze at it long enough it will give up its secrets and make the Victorian installation disappear. ‘Ruddy Victorians,’ I mutter. Clearly, I would never have made an archaeologist. As I watch the team at work I’m in awe of their professionalism; how each scrap of earth is important; how each tiny piece of whatever they find may lead them to uncover the facts about an entire site and understand its purpose.

In Trench Two archaeologist Pauline Carroll is on her hands and knees, cleaning the central area with her trowel. In a few short hours, with much of the loose debris removed, her work reveals a good deal of the mortared floor as well as some interesting anomalies within the trench. A smiling Richard Buckley, happy with progress, leaves to enjoy what is left of the bank holiday. His team, under the careful guidance of Mathew Morris, continue with the uncovering work. Tomorrow the Social Services offices will be open again, meaning the site will be busy, children in care will be brought in, and the public might wander in through the open gates. I look at the tarpaulin on the Heras fencing. It covers some of the main parts of the site, but not others. I ask Morris if this can be improved upon and we decide to put up some more. Knowing that we’ve already uncovered remains, it’s best to be cautious.

In Trench One, archaeologists Tony Gnanaratnam and Tom Hoyle are clearing out the southern side. This trench still has more debris to give up, rocks and boulders which will involve heavy labour, but they are now on their hands and knees doing some trowel work. Then I notice archaeologist Jon Coward at the northern end of Trench One, rubbing his chin and staring at one particular spot. I’m with him in a heartbeat. He points to a great mound of what looks like medieval stone and rubble, which he reckons has been in-filled at a later date and could be a well or just a ‘ruddy great hole’, but thinks it should be checked out. Something is nagging at him. It’s the voids: the spaces between the rocks. I jump in to get a closer look and see the deep, dark gaps between the yellowy rocks. He explains that he needs to see what’s below. It looks like a really big job, because some of the boulders are huge. I say that it would be really useful if we could find out more about the northern end because of what the Victorians have done to obliterate it. Coward’s outer shirt is off as he begins heaving the great boulders out of the way. I can’t help but smile, and thank him. Someone is investigating the northern end of Trench One!