Richard III and the Murder in the Tower (21 page)

Perhaps the most unsatisfactory facet of the traditional account of the notion of the plotting against Richard is that it links together Hastings and Edward IV’s queen dowager, Elizabeth Woodville.
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I view this reported association as classic misdirection on behalf of More
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and his shadowy sponsor, the Parson of Blokesworth. In my view, there is not one plot involving a collaboration of these two individuals but actually two separate issues here. I think each has become bound up in the single association with reference to ‘withered arms,’ and it is important to separate and explain these two distinct lines of threat. Most cleverly, More advanced a story on behalf of Richard which his readers will understand is manifestly false. Specifically, he reported:

However, now More can deny this assertion as a patently false claim and in so doing he can denigrate Richard accordingly.
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I suggest that Richard’s original observations were not physical but rather metaphorical in nature. The ‘withered arms’ he spoke of referred to his armorial bearings or position in society. We do know that Richard himself was keen on these identifications, having himself founded the College of Arms.
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Thus, what Richard was referring to were the separate efforts to reduce his authority and rightful position.
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In respect of the first threat by Elizabeth Woodville and those of her affiliation, the reference is to their attempt to remove or abrogate Richard’s role and power as Protector of the realm. Indeed, Richard had been aware of this effort most probably from before the time that he left York. It was Hastings himself who had, in the early stages, kept him apprised of this threat. As Protector, Richard would have had certain rights and privileges which would have accompanied this position and efforts to remove them would indeed have ‘withered his arms.’ Although the accusation in More is directed toward the queen,
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I think Richard was most probably concerned with all of the members of the Woodville affiliation, and perhaps at the forefront of his mind on that day was the ‘Pontefract Three.’ Their fate, as Richard now understood, was to be viewed as those who had plotted not just against the Protector of the realm but actually against their rightful king. It was in light of this that they were subsequent judged, an issue to which I shall return.

I am the first to admit that this reinterpretation is indeed contentious
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and appeals to symbolism rather than known fact, a strategy of which I generally have a poor opinion.
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However, it must be remembered that the alternative is to accept that Richard accused one of his erstwhile friends and one of the more powerful members of the aristocracy of physical damage through witchcraft when much of the known evidence indicates that Richard had no such deformity. While neither proposition is supported by direct evidence, it does appear to me that the invocation of witchcraft, which suggests an irrational action on behalf of the Protector, clearly provides an opportunity to slander Richard. It is one, of course, that the fabulists and playwrights have found too appealing to ignore over the years.

Now, on a totally distinct front came the inaction of Hastings, whose omission had reduced Richard, not from his role as Protector, but rather from the throne itself. Again, this silence on behalf of Hastings had threatened to exclude Richard from his now rightful position as King of England. As monarch he would have had pre-eminent rights and privileges and so Hastings’ inaction here had also truly ‘withered his arms.’ What More (and assumedly Morton) appear to have done is to take the two separate issues (the curtailment of the office of Protector and the exclusion from Richard’s place as monarch) and have tied these strands together to cause confusion. In so doing they have caused subsequent historians to seek to explain a most unlikely alliance between Hastings and Elizabeth Woodville
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(and, as we know, also Jane Shore), which is surely unsatisfactory at best and at worst simply untenable.
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To complete the misdirection, More (and Morton?) have framed these accusations by Richard as though he claimed he was physically damaged. Although he may have used the idea of arms as metaphorical representation of physical damage, it is doubtful whether he would have presented an outright falsehood for his enemies to exploit. It was a clear tactic indeed to turn a metaphor into a statement of physical reality and then to tie two actions into a single strand, so clever that it has persisted now for more than five centuries. In all of this misinformation, it is not only the queen and Hastings who were specified, but subsequent commentators have included nearly all of those who were detained that day. Most interesting and most incongruous of all is the purported association between Elizabeth Woodville and her husband’s favorite mistress, Jane Shore. It is to this element of the story that I now turn.

Richard, as Duke of Gloucester and subsequently as King of England, had a record of dealing very considerately and indeed generously with almost all of the women with whom we know he had interactions.
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In contrast, Jane Shore apparently got what appears to be rather harsh treatment. It was not simply the public penance imposed upon her but it was the spoilage of her goods and holdings that reduced her personal wealth significantly and was presumably a major factor in her purported descent into the poverty which More later reports. Neither Henry VII nor his son, nor those who had previously benefited from her intercession and beneficence, apparently saw any need to alleviate her from this state. Following Mr Lynom’s proposal, Jane and he seem to have married. However, this followed her personal punishment by Richard. Was this level of retribution merely a result of her having been Edward’s mistress and having been subsequently passed perhaps from Dorset to Hastings after Edward’s death? If so, it seems harsh treatment indeed for a woman whose fate was so controlled by a series of powerful men.

I do not see Jane’s punishment as solely related to her sexual history. Thus, I cannot cast Richard in the role of prude here, especially given his knowledge of his brother’s behaviour in such matters in general and his own history of illegitimate children.
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Rather, I see in this punishment a much closer association between Jane and Hastings. In particular, I believe Richard suspected or indeed was told, again perhaps by Catesby, that Jane had been privy to the pre-contract. It is most likely that she was included as part of Hastings’ downfall, since after all her punishment proceeded from that time. However, it is also possible that Edward himself had told her of his pledge to Eleanor Butler. Thus, I see Jane Shore’s punishment as proceeding from the same anger that engulfed Hastings. However, this emotional storm obviously wore itself out, for Richard in his communication concerning Lynom provided evidence that at a later time he was willing to forgive Jane, albeit that she would be supervised by responsible family members in relation to her actions. In this light, Jane’s downfall is not a result of her sexual activities but rather her knowledge of the politics of inheritance. I think this a more reasonable explanation for the destruction of her personal wealth, although, as I have noted, her penance does imply punishment for transgressions of a sexual nature as well. More’s subsequent account seems one very much of myth and tragedy, rather than adhering to actual events. Again, it is here in creating a tragic figure for literary exploitation that we can view More’s dissertation as both art and propaganda intermixed with historical observation. That we are, today, frustrated by this amalgam reflects upon our own division of knowledge and at least some of the criticism directed at More may well be anachronistic in nature.

When we look at the motivations of William Catesby that day, I think the issue is clear. He had seen, during his formative years, how the political winds could favour an individual one moment and destroy them the next. As a strong affiliate of Hastings, perhaps he anticipated that the supremacy of Edward V would prove most harmful to his own personal prospects. It is my belief that he bided his time and picked the moment to strike very well indeed, from his point of view.
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His actions elevated him to the highest standing with the new monarch, while at the same time removed the one individual whose place and possessions stood directly in the way of his advancement.
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From Catesby’s perspective, the events of 13 June were exceptionally beneficial and he received a whole panoply of honours and rewards (
see
Appendix VI and Figures 36, 37 and 38). During Richard’s reign he was arguably the second most powerful man in the realm, especially so after Buckingham’s fall. Contrast this with the dearth of reward to Stillington and again we must suspect that Catesby did his new liege lord a signal service; since, when we examine it objectively, this was not a bad achievement for a relatively unknown lawyer from Northamptonshire. Indeed, I would argue that his rise was almost unprecedented.
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However, these actions and achievements rebounded on him badly, directly following the debacle of Bosworth.

I am fairly sure that Catesby himself was at Bosworth. The primary reason for this is the celerity of his execution, so quickly following the day of the battle. However, as a lawyer, I do not think he actually fought himself. Rather, I think he was put in charge of the hostage, Lord Strange, with orders to execute him if the Stanley forces attacked Richard. As Strange survived, we can assume that Catesby hedged his bets here; after all, it would have been easy to kill Strange before Richard returned to his camp, assuming the king had been triumphant. Catesby expected some reward or at least commutation of punishment for this act. He lamented this in the famous line in his will: ‘My lordis Stanley, Strange and all that blod help and pray for my soule for ye have not for my body as I trusted in you.’ However, I think he also saved Stanley on that fateful day in the Tower.
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I think he told Richard of the Hastings betrayal but told him Stanley was not directly privy to the pre-contract. It was this action by Catesby that saved Stanley that day. Again, he expected some degree of reciprocation two years later. As we know, he did not get it.

The second line in Catesby’s will reads: ‘I doubt not the King will be good and gracious Lord to them, for he is called a full gracious prince. And I never offended him by my good and Free Will; for god I take my juge I have ever loved him.’ This has always been taken as a desperate piece of ‘toadying’ on behalf of an individual on the verge of execution. However, as we understand from a recent text,
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William’s mother-in-law, Elizabeth St John, was the maternal half-sister of Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry VII. In such circumstances, William and Henry would have been cousins by marriage. It was perhaps this relationship to which William was appealing and perhaps relying on. Although he himself was evidently disappointed in such hopes, his son George did eventually manage a reversal of the attainder, so perhaps William was looking to the future, even at this moment of his greatest terror.

In all I should say that Catesby was unlucky in his eventual fate. As he stood alongside his king, facing the rag-tag forces of Henry Tudor, he, like Richard, must have been fairly confident of success, and in his role as king’s counsellor, he may even have been anticipating securing even more lands and possessions from those who would have forfeited them that day had Richard won. As we know, this never happened, and Catesby, like Richard, passed into myth and legend, largely shaped by Shakespeare and his dramatically and politically motivated stage production.

Following immediately upon the execution of Hastings and in the subsequent days, we seem to have a number of critical documents in circulation, and it is important to consider each of these and their potential author(s). The first is an observation of Thomas More’s and, as with all of More’s work, we have to look very carefully at what he says to try to distill any underlying truth and subsequent understanding. This story is purpose-designed to try to persuade readers that Hastings’s execution was not an impulsive act but rather a pre-meditated one. Specifically, More reported: