Bosworth: The Birth of the Tudors (48 page)

The only problem with this version of events is that Oxford’s military
judgements seem to follow Pizan’s textbook to the letter, as if Bosworth was itself a perfect exemplar of the principles of battle set down by Vegetius and translated by Pizan. The only source that describes Oxford’s complicated manoeuvre is Polydore Vergil, who having arrived in England in 1502 did not begin his work until around 1508, by which time most of the main participants of the battle were dead, with the exception of the Earl of Oxford. Since Oxford had a clear interest in Pizan’s teachings, handing the work to William Caxton to translate in 1489, could it be possible that the earl himself wished for Vergil’s own account of the battle to depict him in the role of the classical military general, executing textbook manoeuvres? It is worth considering that the earl may have been one of the principal sources for Vergil’s account; in relating his own version of the battle to the Italian, could Oxford have created, for the purposes of his own legacy, an imagined battle that belonged more in the pages of Pizan and Vegetius than on the marshy plain of Redemore? Ultimately, we cannot know: yet it is worth reflecting that as captives of their sources and contemporary accounts, we must remain wary of accepting the exactitude of their accounts of military manoeuvres as incontrovertible fact.

With the conditions now ranged against him, and isolated from Richard’s main battle, it was not long before ‘after a brief fight’ the Duke of Norfolk’s vanguard had been ‘completely routed and dispersed, with many others being killed in the flight itself’. Molinet noted how there had been ‘several feats of arms on both sides’, while the ‘Ballad of Bosworth Field’ describes the efforts of Sir Gilbert Talbot, who being on Oxford’s right-hand side may have been involved with the formation of the wedge that attempted to drive through Richard’s line, splitting his forces and causing confusion in the ranks as Oxford himself attempted his manoeuvre. Talbot, who was apparently ‘sore hurt’ in the battle, ‘stoutly stirred’ causing ‘his enemies low to light’. Sir John Savage also, together with his men wearing their livery jackets with a white hood, is described in the ballad as a ‘hardy knight’ who dealt ‘death’s dints’ during the attack. In the most extreme and obviously imagined account, the seventeenth-century poet John Beaumont described the titanic clash of the vanguards in vivid detail. In Beaumont’s poem, the opposing forces met with a clash of spears, with ‘shiver’d pieces’ flying into the air, before taking hold of their swords. Norfolk took aim at
Oxford’s head, landing a direct blow upon his helmet, which slid down striking Oxford on the arm, ‘biting through the steel’ and inflicting a wound. As both men continued to fight in hand-to-hand combat, the earl managed to split Norfolk’s helmet open, leaving his face exposed when suddenly he was killed by an arrow through his eye.

While this entertaining story can hardly be accepted as truth, there is however another version of Norfolk’s death, related in one of the ballads, that is worth considering. The ‘Ballad of Lady Bessie’ describes how, after the battle had begun to turn in Oxford’s favour, Norfolk ‘would have fled’, but retreating to a windmill that stood ‘upon a hill so high’ he was encountered by Sir John Savage. Noticing Norfolk’s retreat to the windmill, Savage managed to capture the duke, taking both Norfolk and his son the Earl of Surrey prisoner. The ballad’s account of Norfolk’s final demise seems to be given some credence by Molinet, who believed that the duke, having been taken prisoner with his son Surrey, was brought to Henry, ‘who sent him on to the Earl of Oxford who had him dispatched’.

The destruction of Richard’s vanguard, with ‘a great number killed in the flight itself’, having been ‘put to flight’ and apparently ‘picked off by Lord Stanley’, caused panic in Richard’s army. One ballad observed that after witnessing the rout of Norfolk’s forces, Lord Dacre ‘began to flee, so did many others more’.

Other sources record that even before Norfolk’s forces had been crushed, many ‘fled even before coming to blows to the enemy’. ‘Many more, who had followed Richard against their will,’ Polydore Vergil believed, ‘easily abstained from fighting and slipped secretly away, inasmuch as they were not desiring the safety, but rather the destruction, of their king, whom they hated.’ Robert Fabyan explained how while the fighting raged on, Richard had looked for further reinforcements, but ‘many toward the field refused him, and went unto that other party. And some stood hoving afar off till they saw to which party the victory fell.’

Other accounts of the battle are more specific as to who on Richard’s side refused to come to their king’s aid. According to the Crowland chronicler, the deserters came from the ranks composed of ‘many northerners, in whom, especially, King Richard placed so much trust’.
In particular, Northumberland’s troops on Richard’s left flank remained unmoved. ‘Where the Earl of Northumberland stood,’ the chronicler observed, ‘with a troop of a size and quality befitting his rank, no opposing force was visible, and no blows were exchanged in anger.’ Molinet claimed that the earl ‘ought to have charged the French, but did nothing except to flee, both he and his company, to abandon his King Richard’. It may have been that with a marsh in front of him, blocking any visible passage to cross to come to the king’s aid, further advance was impossible: pinioned in by the difficult and marshy terrain, Northumberland had little other choice but to remain stationary. Most accounts of the battle agree, however, that the decision to remove himself from the battle was entirely of the earl’s own choosing.

Even before the battle had begun, it seems, treachery was in the air. According to Molinet, while many members of the nobility had been unwilling to prepare for war, deciding to ‘turn their backs’, some had decided to join the king’s forces and prepare for war, ‘not in the least to come to the help of the king, but to settle their debts with him, and to avenge the bad deeds he had done’. For Molinet, the Earl of Northumberland had an ‘understanding’ with Henry, ‘as had various other who left him wanting’. Could some secret agreement have been reached between Northumberland and Henry in advance of the battle?

These thoughts may have crossed the earl’s mind on the day of the battle, but it might have been possible that, in his refusal to come to Richard’s aid, Northumberland may have had far grander designs in mind. The Spanish account of the battle written by de Valera suggested that Henry was later told that Northumberland, ‘in spite of the assistance rendered him during the battle … had not really intended this Henry to be king, but had rather arranged for a son of the Duke of Clarence to become king and to marry a daughter of his’. In his hesitancy, had Northumberland been waiting to discover the final outcome of the battle, hoping that he might be able to take advantage of the result? The only evidence of the earl’s state of mind at the time comes from his will, made on 27 July 1485, less than a month before the battle. In it, Northumberland made generous provision for both his daughters Eleanor and Anne, with a dowry of 3,000 marks being given to his elder daughter Eleanor. The date of his will, together with the earl’s request that his body be buried at Beverley, but only ‘if it fortune me
to depart from this present life within the county of York’, and the fact that the will makes financial provision for any of his servants subsequently ‘maymed’ in his service, all suggest that Northumberland certainly understood the uncertainty of the times; whatever part he chose to play in deciding both Richard’s and Henry’s fate that day, he did so knowing that he had the opportunity of becoming a kingmaker. And it seems likely that he chose the opportunity to seize it.

Several accounts of the battle suggest that rather than merely withdraw his forces from the battle as the fighting continued, Northumberland actively turned on Richard’s men, joining in the battle not with the king, but against him. The Spanish account asserts that the earl ‘left his position and passed in front of the King’s vanguard with ten thousand men, then, turning his back on Earl Henry, he began to fight fiercely against the King’s van, and so did all the others who had plighted their faith to Earl Henry’. This sudden manoeuvre was also testified by the Scottish chronicler Pittscottie, who claimed that part of Richard’s forces ‘that should have opposed’ Henry’s army, instead ‘gave them place and let them go by’ while others on Richard’s side ‘themselves turned around and faced King Richard as if they had been his enemies’. Of course, if the battle had turned around, with the Earl of Oxford’s troops now managing to attack Norfolk’s vanguard from behind, in the confusion, and with the sun now in their eyes, it may have been possible that the fighting that was taking place could have been mistaken for Richard’s troops attacking their own side from behind.

Molinet describes how, when Richard noticed Northumberland’s desertion and ‘found himself alone on the field he thought to run after the others’. One ballad has Richard in ‘full woe’ calling out to his men, praying them not to flee and pledging to die ‘like a man free’ rather than face being captured by the Stanleys. It was at this point that some in Richard’s army believed the best course of action was to encourage their king to flee. According to Polydore Vergil, ‘Richard could (as they say) have found safety for himself in flight. For when those who were round him saw the troops wielding their arms languidly and lazily, and others secretly leaving the battle, they suspected treachery and urged him to flee.’ Believing it was obvious that ‘the battle had manifestly turned against him, they procured a fast horse’ for Richard.
‘But Richard, who knew that the people were hostile to him, cast aside all hope for the future that would come after this, and is said to have replied that on that day he would make an end either of wars or of his life, such was the great boldness and great force of spirit in him’.

Vergil’s account seems to be confirmed by other accounts of the battle. The Spanish account written shortly after the battle related that it was this sight of men deserting the battlefield and others on Richard’s side turning against their own men that prompted Juan de Salazar, a witness to the treason ‘of the King’s people’, to urge Richard to depart, telling him: ‘Sire, take steps to put your person in safety, without expecting to have the victory in today’s battle, owing to the manifest treason of your following’.

‘Salazar,’ Richard replied, ‘God forbid I yield one step. This day I will die as a king or win.’

The story of Richard being confronted and urged to flee is mentioned in several ballads of the battle, with the ‘Ballad of Lady Bessie’ suggesting that it was Sir William Harrington who exhorted the king to escape, urging him that ‘another day you may your worship win, and to reign with royalty, and wear your crown and be our king’. Richard refused: ‘Bring me my battle axe in my hand’, the ballad has the king insisting, ‘and set the crown of gold on my head so high; for by him that shape both sea and sand, King of England this day will I die.’

It was at this point, the Spanish account records, that Richard, having donned his cote d’armes, then placed over his helmet ‘the crown royal, which they declare to be worth one hundred and twenty thousand crowns’. The image of Richard placing the royal crown upon his head, over his helmet, before charging into the final battle is a striking detail observed by every source: the Crowland chronicler describes it as the ‘
pretiosissima corona
’, the ‘priceless’ crown, while John Rous indicates it was ‘the crown itself’ that the king had brought with him to the battlefield, ‘together with great quantities of treasure’. For Vergil, Richard’s motive for doing so was clear:

Richard’s decision to throw himself fully into the battle seems to have coincided with the news that Henry Tudor’s standard, indicating his presence on the battlefield, had been spotted. While the vanguards had been engaged in fighting, Richard had been informed by his scouts that ‘Henry was in the distance with a few armed men gathered round him’. Now, ‘with Henry now nearer, he recognised him more surely from his standards’. Richard, enraged with anger, ‘spurred his horse and made an onslaught on him from the other side, beyond the battle-lines’.

As the battle had progressed, Henry had remained in the rearguard, surrounded by ‘a few armed men’, described as ‘scarcely one squadron of cavalry and a few infantry’. According to a French archer who was present at the battle, Henry had chosen to remain unmounted, surrounded by his men, since he ‘wanted to be on foot in the midst of us’.

As Oxford’s vanguard had pushed forward, a gap had opened up between the two battles, which Richard was now determined to exploit. In a mounted cavalry charge, he charged to his left, around the fighting of the vanguards that was taking place to his right. Witnessing Richard’s charge towards him, Henry must have feared the worst. Isolated and with only a small band of men huddled around him, he was too far detached from Oxford’s troops for the earl to come to his aid. Contrary to the promise he had received from Thomas Stanley that morning, the Stanleys had not joined his forces, remaining disengaged from the battle, watching from the nearby higher ground. Henry had no other choice but to prepare for battle; knowing that ‘all hope of safety lay in weapons, he eagerly faced the struggle’.

In the king’s ‘first onslaught’, Richard crashed into the first ranks of Henry’s men who had huddled around their leader, managing to penetrate through the line of defence, one account describing how he made ‘a way everywhere for himself with his sword’, while another recounted how the king went into the fray with his battle axe in his hand. Richard fought with so ‘much vigour’ that ‘putting heart into those that remained loyal’, it seemed that there might be a chance of turning the battle round.