Authors: Paul Murray Kendall
loyalty and inform the Mayor that he indeed had need of what men they could hastily assemble, for he intended very shortly to give battle to his enemies. John Sponer chose to remain in the Household of the King to accompany him on his wars; John Nicholson at once set forth to bring the King's word to York.
The moment he arrived, the officers of the city bent all their energies to answer the King's call. Plague or no plague, they meant to show their mettle. On the morning of Friday, the nineteenth, "it was determined upon the report of John Nicholson, which was come home from the King's grace from Beskwood, that four score men of the City defensibly arrayed, John Hastings, gentleman to the mace, being captain, should in all haste possible depart towards the King's grace for the subduing of his enemies foresaid." At two o'clock in the afternoon the council met at Guildhall to pay out the soldiers' wages, and toward evening, or early the next morning, the mounted troop hastily set forth. Such was the response of the men who knew the King best. 11 * &
Richard, in the meanwhile, rode back this same evening, Wednesday, August 17, through the forest aisles to Nottingham Castle. Though the thought of Northumberland's defection
doubtless weighed upon his spirits, he must have realized in
the active, decisive part of his mind, which hived the long experience of the general and the governor of men—that victory was probably yet his for the achieving. Even though he had permitted the Stanleys to spring to arms against him, thus opening the way for Henry Tudor to march so far unscathed and unchallenged, Sir William and Lord Stanley could be forced, by skillful maneuvering on his part, to abandon their dangerously ambiguous positions and unite openly with the invaders, a move which might be taken ill by some in their ranks and which would prevent them from suddenly intervening by a flank attack to alter the complexion of battle. As for Northumberland, the lord whose loyalty he had been wooing for almost fifteen years, Richard stood between him and the rebels. That ambiguous Earl could be compelled to take an unequivocal stand, or, at worst, could be quietly put into custody; most of his Yorkshire-
men would readily follow the King's banner if it became necessary to deprive Percy of his command.
The royal host was not yet at full strength. Richard had ordered a very hasty mustering; on all the roads leading to Nottingham and Leicester men were moving to join him, and others were still assembling their retainers and supplies. Even from the little he knew about the progress and numbers of the rebels, it did not appear that there had been any popular rising, in Wales or England, in behalf of Henry Tudor; and the passage of time was therefore not likely to bring him any great accession of strength. Thus, by ruthlessly concentrating on the holding of his throne, ruling himself entirely by the calculation of success, conducting a campaign of whatever duration was advantageous, and giving battle at last only when he had exploited every opportunity and stood at the top of his resources, he could probably crush his enemies. He might then look forward to a reign of peace, for Henry Tudor and his partisans were the only disturbers of the realm. That which he had been able, in two years, merely to initiate or to promise, he could bring to proper fruition; and as his reign lengthened, the faults of which he had been guilty in encompassing the crown would be forgotten by his subjects and might even be forgiven by Heaven. . . .
But he was Richard Plantagenet and none other. He would "dree his weird," driving straight onward as he had long ago chosen.
When he arrived at Nottingham Castle he learned that the rebels, after advancing toward Nottingham as far as Stafford, had suddenly veered to the southeast as if they intended to move on London. Next day, Thursday, August 18, scouts brought word that Henry Tudor's host had lain outside the walls of Lich-field the evening before. Lord Stanley had evacuated that town three days earlier, ostensibly retiring before the invaders, and was now quartered at Atherstone, sixteen miles to the southeast and only twenty-one miles west of Leicester; Sir William Stanley was likewise between Lichfield and Leicester, somewhere to the north of his brother.
Richard instantly gave orders for his army to set out for Leicester early on the morrow. Norfolk could be expected to arrive
there the same evening, having left Bury St. Edmunds on Wednesday, the seventeenth. He dispatched word to the Earl of Northumberland to overtake him at Leicester, if he could not come up before. Again he sent his scurriers forth to observe the movements of the enemy.
On Friday morning, August 19, Richard came down from his eyrie on the rock of Nottingham and took the southward road which wound across hills toward Leicester. His army moved in column of route—"square battayll," Vergil calls it—a wing of cavalry ranging on each side, Richard and his Household men-at-arms in the van, the baggage in the middle, and a force of northern lords, gentry, and commons bringing up the rear. Lord Strange came too, under guard. No word had been received from his father. 12 *
Five other armies were now converging upon the neighborhood of Leicester. In that town itself the levies of the Duke of Norfolk and men from the southern and Midland counties were gathering. Sir William and Thomas, Lord Stanley, were approaching from the west, not many miles apart. Behind them moved Henry Tudor's army. Somewhere in Richard's rear came the mounted force of the Earl of Northumberland. King Richard and Henry Tudor had the most powerful armies; counting the men at Leicester, Richard's host was the larger. But the Stanleys and Northumberland, whose three forces were beginning to hover about the King's like birds of prey, would command the decisive power if an immediate engagement were fought. It was the defection of the nobility, Vergil points out with surprising perception, which wrought Richard's fate. Actually, it was the defection of one knight, one baron, and one earl. Because any field, however crucial, was decided in the latter half of the fifteenth century by small numbers, the fact that these men commanded strong local followings gave them, at the moment, an unusual power, a power which was an expression not of the national will but only of their own interest. Richard was knowingly marching into an ambush which he had permitted these lords to set for him. But, indeed, he had already been ambushed by his own heart.
A little before sunset the King crossed the north bridge over
the river Soar and entered the gates of Leicester. Up High Street (now High Cross Street) he rode, past All Saints* church, to dismount at an inn which exhibited his own device, the White Boar. The castle was probably untenanted, and besides, he was on campaign now and he did not mean to linger in Leicester. Faithful John Howard had already quartered his men of East Anglia in the town and was waiting to greet him. A message arrived from Northumberland that his contingent would reach Leicester the following evening. At a council of war that night, Richard and Howard decided to remain the next day in Leicester to await Northumberland and other captains and to see if the rebels would now change the direction of their march. 13
This same evening, August 19, Henry Tudor was undergoing one of the most dreadful experiences of his life. His army had left Lichfield that morning for Tamworth, but Henry, giving a vague excuse, had lingered behind with only a small bodyguard. At last he set forth, only to halt by the wayside, wrapped in moody thought; and when he again moved slowiy forward, he was oblivious of everything but the ominous visions of his mind. His welling anxieties and doubts had suddenly crested in a terrible fear. The safety of Wales was far off; the Stanleys still refused to commit themselves. Though he had been assured that the King's power would collapse the moment he appeared, few men had joined his banners beyond those already pledged; and from his scouts he had just learned that "nothing was more firm, nothing better furnished" than Richard's cause
Suddenly he realized that it was growing dark. There was no sign of Tamworth or of his army. Fearfully he approached a small village, took shelter in a hut on the outskirts, forbade his men to show themselves. Tamworth, he learned to his relief, was only three miles distant. His army, the meanwhile, was shaken by his unaccountable disappearance, and Oxford and Jasper Tudor spent a haggard night. In the dawn of Saturday, August 20, Henry made his way to Tamworth. Assuming a mask of imperturbability, he declared that he had not lost his way "but had withdrawn from the camp of set purpose to receive some good news of certain his secret friends." Fortune began to smile a little. He was
told that the Stanleys wanted him to come secretly to Atherstone for a conference. He complied at once, setting off with a small guard. Vergil is the only reporter of the scene: "Here Henry did meet with Thomas and William, where taking one another by the hand, and yielding mutual salutation, each man was glad for the good estate of the others, and all their minds were moved to great joy. After that, they entered in council in what sort to darraigne battle with King Richard . . . whom they heard to be not far off."
By the time the Stanleys had departed to their forces and Henry awaited the arrival of his at Atherstone, his great joy had evaporated. Lord Stanley had kept reiterating the danger in which his son stood; Sir William was full of reasons why he too must not yet join the rebel host. They would come in when the time was ripe—that was the essence of the interview. In the Stanleys* minds Henry read the reservation that the time might, just possibly, never be ripe. Even when the battle was joined, he foresaw, they would hold aloof, stationing themselves so that they could quickly, and mortally, intervene. If the dragon of Cadwallader raked the white boar, they would dash in to finish off the beast; or if the fight hung in the balance and they felt they could decide it, they would overthrow King Richard. But if Henry's army faltered and began to give way, the Stanleys would find excuses to associate themselves with the Kong in his triumph. They sincerely wished Henry to win, but, first of all, they meant to be on the victor's side. Henry never forgot the taste that the Stanleys left in his mouth during these feverish days. 14
At Leicester on this Saturday, August 20, Richard was busy supervising, with John Howard and Howard's son Thomas, Earl of Surrey, and other captains, the orderly mustering of his host. Men were still streaming in from all directions and had to be given quarters and assigned places in the ranks. Sir Robert Bracken-bury, Constable of the Tower, arrived with a contingent from London. A little above Stony Stratford, he reported, Walter Hungerford and Thomas Bourchier had stolen away from his band, obviously with the design of joining Henry Tudor. Hungerford had been attainted for his prominent part in Bucking-
ham's rebellion, but Richard had been content to pardon him and restore much of his property.
By late afternoon Richard had learned from his scouts that Lord Stanley's army was at Stoke Golding, only about ten miles west of Leicester, and that his brother Sir William had halted close by, in the vicinity of Shenton. Henry Tudor's host had occupied Atherstone, not much more than nine miles to the rear. Though the movement of the Stanleys made it appear that the rebels were headed directly eastward toward Leicester, the town of Atherstone was on Watling Street, the great Roman road which ran in a straight line southeast toward London; and it was still possible that the rebels might strike down Watling Street toward the capital, with the Stanleys maneuvering to mask this movement. Richard consequently sent out an advance party to take up a position where they could keep Lord Stanley's camp under observation.
Late in the evening the Earl of Northumberland at last arrived with his men, who, he declared, were much wearied, their horses likewise, from the speed with which they had come south. Richard gave no sign that he was aware of anything suspicious in the Earl's conduct. As he listened to Northumberland, however, he must have been conjecturing, from his long experience of the man, the thoughts that were running in his mind.
Long ago Henry Percy had indicated his sentiments toward the Crown. His great-grandfather had lost his life fighting against Henry IV at Shrewsbury. His father had lost his life and the earldom fighting against Edward IV at Towton. Restored to the dignity by Edward in March of 1470, Henry, Earl of Northumberland, had made up his mind that he would remain aloof from any struggles for the English crown. Henceforth the House of Percy stood only for the House of Percy. When Edward returned from Burgundy in March of 1471, Percy sat upon his estates, neutral, content to accept Henry or Edward for his sovereign.
His long association with Richard, Richard's courtesy and good will when Duke of Gloucester, Richard's munificent gifts to him of estates and offices when King, did not change his attitude. He
had supported Richard's assumption of the throne, but he had had no likely alternative. He had marched with Richard in Buckingham's rebellion, but the rebel cause had withered from the first and he had had, besides, no reason to love Buckingham. Despite Richard's generosity and favor he nursed a resentment, grim and low-keyed—for he appears to have been a colorless, low-keyed individual—against the man who had won first place in the hearts of the North, and against the King who had established a royal council to dispense the King's justice and keep the King's peace in Yorkshire. He could only look backward for his cue, and he felt himself diminished in comparison with his ancestors, who had ruled the North as they pleased and dispensed their own. justice as they saw fit.
By feeling as well as policy, then, he was disposed to break his oath to Richard and remain apart from the impending battle, knowing that if he could manage his neutrality with even moderate skill, the victor—whoever he was—would undoubtedly be content to accept his homage. But he preferred to see Richard vanquished. He probably had Henry's pardon in his pocket and he certainly supposed that the unknown exile would have his hands so full in London that he would be very glad to let Henry Percy rule the North as the Percies once had done. Now he was explaining to Richard that his soldiers had been slow in assembling and he had therefore so hastened to reach Leicester that both men and horses needed rest. Perhaps it would be wise, he suggested, to let his force form the rear guard of the army.