Richard The Chird (58 page)

Richard concurred. With the warning which the news from York had given him, it was not hard to sound the bottom of Henry Percy. Richard was too proud to make any last attempt to stir Percy's allegiance; he was too inflexibly committed to his ordained course—and perhaps too weary of spirit—to undertake any measures against Percy's obvious disaffection. That night the royal captains agreed with Richard that the host should march westward on the morrow to engage the enemy. Battle! Battle was the encounter, at long last, with Henry Tudor. Battle was the trial of loyalty and the answer to betrayaX the fulfillment of his reign and the registry of Heaven's judgment.

Bosworth Field*

Here 'will I He tonight; But where tomorrow? Well, alFs one for that.

ON Sunday morning, August 21, the royal army formed in column of route. Trumpets resounded in the narrow streets of Leicester. Down the Swine's Market (now High Street) swung the troops, over the west bridge across the Soar, along the road to Kirkby Mallory, which lies almost directly in the line running northeast-southwest between Leicester and Atherstone, and is roughly equidistant from them. The men-at-arms and archers of Norfolk and Surrey, protected by a cavalry screen, formed the van. Next came Kong Richard, riding with the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Northumberland at the head of the chief officers and knights and esquires of his Household. There followed a great contingent, mostly of northern and midland men—among them Lords Zouche and Scrope of Bolton and Scrope of Upsale and Dacre (he "raised the North Countrye") and Greystoke ("he brought a mighty many") and Ferrers of Chartley and William Berkeley, Earl of Nottingham, and many knights and esquires. Behind the center division of the army rolled the baggage train; and then, issuing from Leicester after the van was well on its way, came the rear guard, Northumberland's troop.

Richard was mounted on a white courser, 1 * a slight figure even in the casing of full armor. He bore a golden crown upon his helmet, that friend and foe alike might know that the King was going forth to battle. The banners of England and St. George floated above him. In his train blazed the heralds in their tabard coats of arms and trumpeters and drummers, their instruments flaunting the leopards and lilies and the white boar. 2 * So ac-coutered in all the panoply of knightly warfare, Richard rode

428

without fear or hope, silent as was his wont, his general's eye scanning the country, noting the bearing of his soldiers, and picturing, as scouts brought their reports, the possible movements of the enemy.

When the van of the army reached Kirkby Mallory, Richard called a halt to permit his soldiers to eat a meal and to confer with his commanders. He had learned from his scurriers that the two Stanleys were holding their positions at Stoke Golding and Shen-ton. Henry Tudor's host was beginning to move down Watling Street from Atherstone. Whether it would turn aside to confront the royal army or try to slip past it to the south and continue on toward London there was yet no telling. Richard knew the country well. Only ten weeks before he had journeyed to Nottingham by Coventry and Leicester, on a road that skirted to the southeast the present terrain, a road down which he had marched from Leicester in October of 1483 and had traveled on previous occasions as well He and his lieutenants quickly agreed that the royal army should take up a position which would bring the Stanleys, or at least Lord Stanley, under observation, block the approach of the invaders if they were marching to give battle, or serve as a springboard to come down upon their flank if they dared to follow Watling Street.

Commands rang out; the host resumed its march. Five miles west of Kirkby Mallory, the vanguard entered the village of Sut~ ton Cheney, which stands upon the eastern end of a high ridge. The ridge extends westward for about a mile, like a crouched animal with head and hindquarters rising higher than its back. North of the ridge the land slopes upward to the town of Market Bosworth, some two miles distant. Looking across these slanted fields, the royal commanders at Sutton Cheney could see the encampment of Sir William Stanley, something more than a mile away, on low ground to the northwest of the ridge. Northumberland's sluggish rear guard was delegated to take up a position around Sutton Cheney in order to keep Sir William in view.

Meanwhile, Norfolk's vanguard, moving south out of the village, came down from the ridge onto a stretch of land called Redmore Plain, which slopes gently to the west as far as the eye

can see. A road follows the plain, turning southwestward to join Watling Street. Here the vanguard, mainly composed of lightly armored bowmen and billmen, halted to pitch camp. Richard led his division of heavily armed Household troops and men-at-arms of the North and Midlands on past Norfolk's station in order to bring them to the high ground, now called Harper's Hill, which forms the southern boundary of Redmore Plain before declining sharply into the plain itself. The wings of Richard's army were now separated but in close touch. The army could be pointed south toward Watling Street, some ten miles distant, or turned westward to block an advance up Redmore Plain. From the headland on which he had halted to make camp Richard could see to the southwest, across a valley and a stream called the Tweed, the height near Stoke Golding on which Lord Stanley had stationed his force. To Stanley he sent a command to join the royal host at once. The messenger returned with an evasive answer.

It was now midafternoon, or later. Scouts had brought word by this time that the enemy had left Watling Street and were advancing up the road toward Redmore Plain. As evening approached, the invaders appeared in the distance, but they shortly swung off the road to make camp. Soon lights began to twinkle in the dusk, like a cluster of fireflies, in meadows about three miles to the west of Harper's Hill and a little to the southwest of Ambien Hill, as the western extremity of the great ridge was called.

The terrain on which these four armies had halted is rolling, watered by numerous streams, with eminences which here and there crest into hills or hillocks. It was then open country, uncultivated and unenclosed, and well-nigh treeless. Here the villages are built, not in the valleys, which may be swampy, but on the hills or high ground, Market Bosworth and Stoke Golding, bounding the battleground to the north and south, and Shenton and Sutton Cheney, facing each other east and west across the length of the great ridge, thrust themselves above the lowlands like watchtowers. They are all enclosed in an area of less than twenty square miles. The dominant feature of the landscape is

Ambien Hill, which swells to a height of almost four hundred feet and stands in the center of the region. On the night of August 21, the opposing armies lay clustered about this hill—Henry Tudor and Sir William Stanley on low ground to the southwest and northwest, Lord Stanley on an eminence due south, and the wings of the royal army extending in a north-south line from the eastern end of the ridge at Sutton Cheney across Redmore Plain to Harper's HilL

Doubtless Richard paced the outer reaches of his camp that night, surveying the lights of Lord Stanley's camp and Henry Tudor's, and Norfolk's fires stretching across the plain to Northumberland's, beyond. His mind was much upon the ridge, shrouded in darkness to the north, particularly the contours of Ambien Hill. From a part of its southern slope a marsh of perhaps half a hundred acres extended into the plain. The tilt of this slope, like that to the west, was considerable (about 5 per cent); on the northern side, he had learned, it was very much steeper (about 10 per cent). Perhaps by the time he had reached Sutton Cheney, hours before, he had already conceived the plan which this night he outlined to the final council of his commanders,

His present position had halted the rebels' advance where he had chosen, and it was battleworthy. The Tweed River and the southwest declivity of Harper's Hill would help to protect his flank against Lord Stanley; from its western and northern crests he could assail the enemy advancing up Redmore Plain against Norfolk, But Richard lacked the numbers to hold the hill in force and to provide Norfolk with the substantial addition of troops he would need to extend his line across the plain. Since Northumberland on the right had to be counted a blank, Sir William Stanley might cross the ridge unopposed to swoop down on Norfolk's right.

Richard and his commanders therefore decided that the royal army should occupy Ambien Hill very early in the morning. It was a position of commanding advantage, its flanks protected against the treachery of the Stanleys and its limited extent minimizing the damage from Northumberland's probable refusal to join the conflict. These tactics were certain to bring the enemy to

battle, and on terms that he had perhaps not foreseen. They also offered Richard the greatest possibility of getting at Henry Tudor, though this thought he probably did not bother to mention.

Having bidden his captains good night, he doubtless paced again the reaches of his camp, noting men's faces in the firelight, the condition of their gear. As he gazed at Lord Stanley's fires across the darkness, his grim content with his military dispositions gave way to somber thoughts about the treachery which had dictated them. It was not only the alternative of victory by Henry Tudor which would change England, probably give her something like the cunning despotism that France had known under Louis XL His own triumph, too, would bring sharp changes. His present experience of betrayal had poisoned his will to seek loyalty; henceforth, if he conquered, he would have to be ruthless in demanding obedience and compassing his own security. It was a prospect that served only to deepen his depression of spirit.

Before it was light, officers moved among the sleeping soldiers on Harper's Hill, bidding them wake and eat their breakfasts. The chief men about the King gathered before his tent—Viscount Lovell, his Chamberlain; and Sir Robert Percy, his Comptroller; his advisers Sir Richard Ratcliffe and William Catesby; John Kendall, his secretary; Sir Robert Brackenbury and Sir Thomas Mongomery; Sir Ralph Assheton, who was again Vice-Constable of England; and other councilors, captains, and servants. Richard appeared shortly, an officer bearing his helmet with the golden crown. In the graying darkness his face was startlingly livid, attenuated. . . . He noticed their looks of concern. If he appeared pale, he told them quickly, it was only because he had slept little, troubled by dreams. He stood listening to the sounds of his stirring camp—clash of harness, twanging of bowstrings, horses neighing and stamping. It was gray in the east. In the west some lights flickered from Henry Tudor's camp. The weather gave promise of being warm and clear. Gloomily Richard looked at his faithful followers. There was something, he said at last, that he must tell them. The battle this day—no matter who won it—would prove to be the destruction of the England they knew.

If Henry Tudor was the victor, he would crush all the supporters of the House of York and rule by fear. If he, Richard, conquered, he would be equally ruthless and would use force to govern the kingdom. A moment after he had ceased speaking, one of his squires reported, falteringly, that there were no chaplains in the camp to say divine service. Richard replied that it was as he intended. If their quarrel were God's, they needed no last supplications; if it were not, such prayers were idle blasphemy. 3 *

Word came from Norfolk that he was ready to march. Mounting his white horse, Richard gave order for the army to set forth, and his captains scattered to their detachments. He told John Kendall to dispatch a last message to Lord Stanley, commanding him to come in at once if he valued the life of his son, a confessed traitor. While dawn was yet reddening the sky, Richard's division streamed northward down the slope of Harper's Hill in the fresh coolness of the August morning. Ahead, the men of Norfolk, in column of route, were ascending the rise into Button Cheney. Richard discovered when he reached the village that Northumberland's men were only beginning to form their ranks.

The troops were given a breathing spell. Norfolk, Surrey, Northumberland, and the principal captains of the royal host gathered about the King on a tumulus which stands on high ground between the forks of a road north of the village. Scurriers brought word that the forces of the Stanleys showed no signs of moving, but there was some stirring in the rebel camp on the plain. Richard ordered a detachment of mounted archers and men-at-arms to proceed along the ridge to the crest of Ambien Hill. They were to make a show of force and at all costs hold their position if attacked; they would soon be reinforced. A blustering reply now arrived from Lord Stanley: he had other sons and he was not, at the moment, of a mind to join the King. Clearly, he counted on the King's mercy and on the King's hope that he himself would yet prove true. In a blaze of anger Richard ordered one of his squires to see at once to Strange's execution. Then, controlling himself, he turned to his captains for their opinion. As he listened to them, Richard suddenly perceived that, like everything else, Lord Strange's fate must be decided by

the wager of battle. He ordered Stanley's son to be kept under

close guard. 4 *

As the long column of men stood waiting—each detachment marked by the livery jackets and the banners of its leader— Richard quickly gave last instructions to his captains. Northumberland had proposed that his mounted force hold a position on the ridge near Sutton Cheney. Thus, the Earl averred, he would be able to fall on Lord Stanley's flank if Stanley moved against Ambien Hill, and would also be close enough to the King to provide quick reinforcement if needed. Richard tersely agreed. Better for Northumberland to be neutral in the rear than in the front of the line. Yet even in acceding to the Earl's request, he must have realized that many a man beneath the Percy standard had no idea of his lord's treachery and would have followed the King with a will.

Norfolk's vanguard now resumed its march, flowing in a narrow column along the top of the ridge toward Ambien Hill with the Howard banner of the silver lion leading the way. As Richard mounted his horse to follow, some of his Household protested that he must not wear into battle the helmet with the golden crown, for it would mark him as the prime target for the enemy. Quietly Richard replied that he would live, and die, King of England. The Knights and Esquires of the Body gathering about him, he rode westward after Norfolk at the head of the center of his host, turning his back with proud impassivity upon the Earl who had at last contrived to turn his coat.