The Princes in the Tower: 7 arguments that suggest it was Richard wot done it

Posted on June 25, 2020June 26, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

The fate of the Princes in the Tower will probably never be definitively answered

Richard III and the fate of the princes in the tower. It’s a debate that is unlikely to be resolved to satisfaction.

Hard evidence does not exist. We don’t even know for a fact that Edward V and his brother Richard were murdered – let alone at whose hand they met their fate.

But it isn’t true that we know nothing. And what we do have – circumstantial thought it may be – strongly suggests the blame must be laid at Richard’s door.

Here are just seven reasons why.

1. You don’t need to rely on Tudor sources to conclude that Richard’s probably guilty

“Richard’s reputation has been blackened by Tudor propaganda.” It’s a statement we often hear in this debate and is a relatively superficial analysis. It prevents each source being assessed for its individual merit. But it ain’t an argument I’m gonna win with one article.

As luck would have it, I don’t need to. The evidence that points to Richard’s guilt can be found in accounts contemporaneous to his reign. Thanks to the writings of Dominic Mancini and the 3^rd continuation of the Croyland Chronicle we have a relatively robust understanding of the chain of events in 1483.

Mancini was an Italian visiting London. He had access to a source close to the Princes and was aware of what information was being put about the capital. We would be unwise to take every word he writes as fact. But the chain of events can be verified by other sources, even though none could have read Mancini’s work. His account lingered in a French library until it was discovered in 1934.

Croyland was almost certainly a state official, though not part of Richard’s inner-circle. Technically it was written in the first few months of Henry VII’s reign. However, it was written too early to be ‘infected’ by ‘Tudor propaganda’. Crucially, it contains information that Henry VII would not have wanted preserved. To dismiss it as a ‘Tudor spin’ would be absurd.

2. Richard killed the Princes most loyal supporters before declaring himself King

Richard’s army of modern-day supporters often argue that Richard’s claim to the crown – based on the supposed illegitimacy of the princes – was widely accepted by the ‘three estates’ of the realm. But surely the fact that Richard had just killed everyone that opposed him and had armies stationed outside London had something to do with that?

Without following due legal process, Richard had William Hastings, a close supporter of Edward IV murdered. He killed – without trial – the Princes’ uncle, Earl Rivers and their half-brother Richard Grey. The message was clear. Resistance to Richard would be met with fatal force.

Richard declared his nephews illegitimate. But did people really believe him?

3. The illegitimacy of the Princes was not accepted

Ricardians also argue that Richard had no motive to have the Princes killed. He had declared them illegitimate and thus they were no threat to him. But Croyland is clear that plots were forming to free them. Clearly, the story hadn’t stuck. Besides, Richard had made them illegitimate by Act of Parliament. Parliament could simply reverse that decision.

4. Richard had the Princes in a high-security prison

Mancini tells us that “all the attendants who had waited upon the King [Edward V] were debarred access to him. He and his brother were withdrawn into the inner departments of the Tower proper, and day by day began to be seen more rarely behind the bars and windows, till at length they ceased to appear altogether.”

While the Tower of London was a royal residence and not just a prison, the boys were kept to a designated area. After a certain point they were not permitted to roam

5. Richard dismissed all the Princes’ attendants and had them guarded by loyal men

Croyland tells us that the Princes were put in the custody of ‘certain persons appointed to that purpose.’ They would have been men Richard trusted greatly.

Occasionally people speculate that these men were bribed by another. But what could they have offered? What could possibly outweigh the benefits to be had from service to the King? And surely these men knew that if they let something happen to the Princes on anyone’s orders but Richard’s they would answer for it with their heads.

6. Richard never accused anyone else of killing the Princes

Richard had the boys in a high security prison. Could anyone – even Buckingham – really have gained access? If they had, Richard would have known about it straight away. Would he really have kept quiet? After all, it would have been a stroke of luck. He could make it clear the boys were dead and pin the murder on someone else. It’s telling that he never did.

7. Richard did not ‘produce’ the boys when doing so would have saved his reign

Some argue that the Princes were never killed at all. I would love to believe that, but it seems unlikely.

In 1485, Richard III faced a great threat from a strange and unlikely coalition. The remnants of Lancaster teamed up with the keenest supporters of Edward IV to topple Richard. If Richard had been able to prove that the boys were still alive, it would have split his opposition down the middle. It might even have united all Yorkist support under him.

But he didn’t. Because they were almost certainly dead.

The Tower of London was a royal residence, not just a prison. But Richard had the boys confined to inner apartments where they could not be seen

Everything I’ve said here is circumstantial. It’s not categorical proof and I accept that. Maybe it wouldn’t stand up in court. But we’re not lawyers. This isn’t a trial. As Alison Weir says, historians don’t convict beyond all reasonable doubt. They look at the evidence we have and conclude what is most likely to have happened.

So much passion surrounds this debate and it is largely counter-productive. I have no partisan bias against Richard. If new evidence comes to light I would do my best to review it with an open mind.

What puzzles me is that multitudes of Royal History Geeks feel the need to explain away the chain of events that I have outlined above. That Richard ordered the death of the Princes is not the only interpretation of the events of 1483. But surely it is the most likely? I worry that a pre-conceived idea of Richard’s character prevents people from accepting evidence for what it is. This is a dangerous way of doing history. We know so little about the hearts and minds of the people we study.

Henry VII is a king I really admire. I believe he made important shifts in the structures of government which helped pave the way for Parliamentary democracy (which is not to suggest that Henry was in any way a democrat himself). I also think that there is evidence to suggest his character was considerably less blood thirsty than kings that came before or after him.

But I must accept that overwhelming circumstantial evidence suggests that he framed and judicially murdered Edward, Earl of Warwick. The young man had spent much of his life in prison and was probably what we would today consider a vulnerable adult. Whatever Henry’s dynastic reasons for his actions, this was a terrible crime.

Nevertheless, this doesn’t take away from Henry’s achievements as king. Nor does Edward IV’s murder of the old, virtuous and mentally unstable Henry VI diminish his legacy. He showed great skill in managing the nobility and restored order to England. It does make them both three-dimensional characters that need to be studied and analysed. Admired and respected, but never worshipped and revered.

By taking the same approach with Richard, we have a chance to truly redeem his reputation. To rescue him from both his status as unreconstructed monster and revered cult figure. He can finally emerge as the bearer of the broken humanity we all share and the wielder of skills and qualities that deserve to be remembered.

While we’re talking about the Tower of London, we must remember that our wonderful Royal palaces and historical landmarks have taken a real hit during the lockdown. Let’s make sure we get visiting as soon as we’re allowed, to show them our support. Keep an eye on the Historic Royal Palaces website as I’m sure they’ll let us know when doors are open again.

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6 things to remember when debating York vs Lancaster

Posted on June 6, 2020June 6, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Being a Royal History Geek has its challenges. Our animated interest in the affairs of yesteryear can raise more than the occasional eyebrow among our friends and family. The Wars of the Roses, however, is one topic that people not quite as super-cool as us know a little bit about. Or at least, they think they do.

It’s not uncommon for the debate around who had the better claim to the throne – York or Lancaster – to come up in the mainstream media, at school or university and even down the pub.

So, next time you find yourself debating the age-old question, here’s six facts it’s worth remembering.

1. The Lancastrians were the senior heirs male of Edward III

Through John of Gaunt, Lancastrians were the heirs-male to Edward III

Richard II had the undisputed right to succeed Edward III in 1377. But once you get rid of him, the Lancastrian kings were the senior heirs male to Edward III. That means their line passed father to son to grandson, great-grandson etc in much the same way that the surname tends to. If you believed people in the 14^th and 15^th century preferred male-only succession, Lancaster are the clear winners

2. York were the senior heirs general of Edward III

Through Lionel of Antwerp, the Yorks were the heirs-general to Edward III

The house of York descended from Edward III’s second surviving son, Lionel of Antwerp. But the line passed through daughters twice before getting to Richard, Duke of York. If you believed that 14^th/15^th century folk were open to women inheriting the crown – or transmit their claim to their sons – then York come out on top.

3. Edward I may have permitted succession through the female line

Edward I may have gathered his family to read out the line of succession

Although details are a bit sketchy, it looks as if Edward I (1272-1307) was open to female succession. He seems to have told his family that the crown should pass first to his sons and their descendants, thereafter to his daughters and their descendants. This is good news for the Yorkist claim.

4. Edward III entailed succession through the male only line

Edward III imitated the trend of landowners and entailed the crown in the male line

In about 1377, Edward III left a document suggesting that descent should only be in the male-line. This is a coup for the Lancastrians. It specifically names the Duke of Lancaster and his son before the Mortimers (ancestors of the Yorks). But even more importantly, it ties into a wider trend. In the late 1300s, landowners were trying to entail their estates to male-heir only. Edward III’s decision to do the same with the crown may have been indicative of attitudes at the time.

5. Richard II may have nominated Mortimer as his heir

Richard II created confusion around who is heir was

According to the Eulogium Historium, Richard II recognised Mortimer as his heir in the parliament of 1385 or 1386. Mortimer was the grandson of Lionel of Antwerp, second son of Edward III. If true, this is good news for Yorkists. Richard, Duke of York, was Mortimer’s grandson. But historians debate whether it really happened. The official record doesn’t mention it.

6. No one cared about any of this in 1460 or 1461

28,000 men lost their lives at the battle of Towton

No one really cared whether the Duke of York or Henry VI had the best hereditary claim from Edward III. Not even Richard himself really. Lancaster were the established dynasty. Henry VI was an anointed King and the son of a great man, Henry V. The nobility was reluctant to remove Henry, despite his disastrous reign.

It was ultimately the gentry that deserted Lancaster and backed Edward IV at the battle of Towton in 1461. None of them did so because of the ’superiority’ of the Yorkist claim. They, even more than the nobility, needed stability to return to England. They knew that Henry VI was effectively out the picture. Their choice was a full-blooded Plantagenet like Edward of York or a French woman who had gained a reputation for savagery.

28,000 men lost their life at Towton. Not a single one did so to defend constitutional purity.

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Lockdown must-reads #8: Henry IV, Chris Given-Wilson

Posted on May 15, 2020May 15, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list

Like most Royal History Geeks I’m in love with popular history. When surveying the past is just a hobby, time is limited. The compelling narrative of a popular publication stimulates the mind and soothes the soul.

But as time goes by, those of us drawn further and further into the web of history sometimes need a little bit more. Our thirst for knowledge yearns for greater depth. We will always love every new 300-page paperback about our favourite medieval or Tudor ruler. Yet, it gets harder to spot a fact or analysis that we hadn’t stumbled across before.

It’s time for us to join the debates that have consumed historians since the events first happened. We want to learn more about the local studies and textual analyses that theories are built on. We don’t want to just be told that Professor Historylove had conducted a revolutionary study on the Calendar of Patent Rolls. We want to see if for ourselves.

Henry IV, by the great medievalist Chris Given-Wilson, is the perfect transition for anyone wanting to make the leap from popular history to the academic arena. Given its biography format, its structure is one that we are broadly familiar with. It retells accounts of myths and legends. But it sets the record straight on what is most likely to have happened.

The first Lancastrian King is often overshadowed by the glory of his son’s campaigns and the disaster of his grandson’s reign. But he is an intriguing figure in and of his own right. As the author says, while Henry is not remembered as great King, it is not impossible to imagine that in different circumstances, he could have been. And even before he became king, his life was more than worth reading about.

The book kicks off with a detailed examination of Henry’s Lancastrian inheritance. Many books talk about the vast wealth of the Dukes of Lancaster. This one gives detail. It proceeds to explore what is known of his early life. It analyses the factors that caused him to rebel against his cousin Richard II.

Eventually the book explores events that Royal History Geeks may be more familiar with. Richard II’s decline into tyranny and Henry’s ultimate usurpation of the crown. The house of Lancaster has finally claimed the throne of England. But for Henry at least, it will never be a throne he sits on comfortably. Rebellions, fiscal concerns and family division cause most of the King’s reign to be a stressful one. Ill health and injury blight his final years.

Unlike popular historians, academics give little space for speculation over things we can only guess at. So you’re going to be disappointed if you’re expecting much insight into how Henry felt at the early death of his wife, Mary de Bohun. If you’re after an analysis of any pangs of guilt associated with overthrowing his cousin, look elsewhere. If you’re desperate to empathise with him about what it feels like to be betrayed by your son, this isn’t the book for you.

But none of that means that Henry doesn’t come across as a real human being. He is presented as a pious man interested in theology. John Beaufort, Thomas Swynford and Archbishop Arundel all emerge as life-long friends and companions.

The book is not an easy read. The author would probably be insulted if it were. I openly confess to reading a chapter and then feeling I had to read it again to fully digest. It must be studied rather than just read. But if you can give the book the time and mental energy it deserves, you will be richly rewarded with a deepening of knowledge and a broadening of the mind.

Henry IV by Chris Given-Wilson is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

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Lockdown must-reads #6: The Hollow Crown by Dan Jones

Posted on May 6, 2020May 6, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

For many years ‘The Wars of the Roses’ were confined to a paragraph or two in the introduction to Tudor history books. We, the readers, had to endure just a few lines about random battles, murderous uncles and cooky Plantagenet cousins. If we did, we knew we’d be treated to tales of religious reform, six wives and female succession.

But we didn’t know what we were missing. Under the skilful craftmanship of Dan Jones, this series of bloody conflicts finally take their place in the spotlight.

The 370-page publication spans a 45-year time period and touches on the reigns on five kings. But despite the breadth of the topic, Jones paints a vivid and detailed picture of the breakdown of England’s political system and the lust for power that followed it.

The book begins with the marriage of Henry VI’s parents. By beginning the narrative here rather than an earlier point in history, Jones is implicitly nailing his colours to the mast. Committed to the Tudor perspective that the conflicts have their origins in the downfall of Richard II? You’re going to disappointed. Sympathetic to the Whig notion that Edward III doomed his descendants to disaster? Look away now. Like recent scholarship, Jones roots the cause of conflict squarely in the ineffectual kingship of the last Lancastrian ruler.

As Henry grows, his inability to perform even the most basic facet of Kingship becomes increasingly obvious. For the best part of two decades the political establishments attempts to create a mechanism for governing England without a functioning monarch. But in the run up to 1450 it all came crumbling down

The 1450s is a decade of battles, high politics and low humanity. With vivid storytelling the author brings them to life. Characters like Margaret of Anjou, Richard of York and a succession of Somerset Dukes become real to us. Jones correctly notes that it is not until York puts his hand on the throne and claims the crown in 1460, that the Wars of the Roses can truly be called a dynastic conflict.

The book bounces through the early years of Yorkist rule under Edward IV. Like most accounts of the era, it focuses on his unpopular marriage to Elizabeth Wydeville, which in turn leads to a rebellion by Warwick and the second phases of the wars. The rest of Edward’s reign is centred on the fallout with his brother, Clarence. Eventually we follow the dramatic events of Edwards’s death, the brief succession of his son and Gloucester’s usurpation of the throne as Richard III. The author does well not to dwell on the fate of the princes in the tower. As Alison Weir has demonstrated, that topic requires a book of its own. (But let’s be honest, we all now Richard did it.)

In events familiar to Royal History Geeks, Henry VII ultimately wins the crown at Bosworth field. He holds the throne for almost 25 years and is succeeded by his son. But it is years before he is free from the threats of pretenders.

Like its predecessor, ‘The Plantagenets’, the book is ambitious in its scale. As a result, it cannot focus on any of either Edward IV or Henry VII’s reign in detail. But it does provide a cohesive overview that is essential for anyone looking to study either king in greater depth.

The book is lively and well crafted. Some of the sentences are almost poetic. It’s clear from the first few pages that Jones has grown as a writer since 2012’s ‘The Plantagenets’. (This may sound a little patronising. Let me be clear: I would give my right arm to be able to write a book as good as the Plantagenets.)

But perhaps the greatest achievement of this book is the way it makes ‘recent’ and innovative scholarship accessible. In the last three decades, historians such as John Watts and Christine Carpenter have boldly attempted to reconstruct the Kingship of Henry VI. They drive home its fundamental inadequacy from its inception. Jones’s work is the first attempt I have come across to draw on this scholarship and present it in the popular genre.

Since the discovery of Richard III’s remains, interest in the Wars of the Roses has reached fever pitch. Source material is scant and scholarship is complicated. But through well-written and beautifully crafted accounts like this, the public can access the latest thinking, correct misconceptions that arise from fiction and get a grip on one of England’s most intriguing sagas. Dan Jones sets the standard. If only more would rise to it.

The Hollow Crown – The Wars of the Roses and the Rise of the Tudors, is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

WATCH: York vs Lancaster – who had the better claim to the throne?

Posted on April 26, 2020April 26, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

During a series of bloody battles, the Royal houses of Lancaster and York fought for the throne of England. The conflicts are known to us as the Wars of the Roses.

Both houses descended from Edward III. But who had the best claim to the throne?

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The house of Beaufort – a family in Lancastrian favour

Posted on April 16, 2020May 1, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Favouritism could be the downfall of a medieval king. But a measured and sustained favouring of the Beauforts by their Lancastrian kin drew the family into the centre of England’s nobility.

When Edward IV usurped the throne in 1461, he made both his brothers dukes. Huge landed estates were bestowed on each of them. As they grew up, he drew them deeper into the governance of the realm.

At first, glance, this contrasts sharply with the actions of that other famous usurper, Henry IV. When he seized the throne in 1399 his brother, John Beaufort was reduced in rank from Marquess of Dorset to Earl of Somerset. At no single point was a major land endowment offered. The king even went out of his way to proclaim that descendants of his Beaufort kin could never be contenders for the crown.

Was it something they said?

But these isolated instances distort the truth. Under the house of Lancaster, the Beauforts reached the summit of society.

The advancement of the Beauforts began under Richard II. But it accelerated under the house of Lancaster

As Royal History Geeks will know, the Beaufort family finds its origins in the birth of John in 1374. The illegitimate son of John of Gaunt and his mistress, Katherine Swynford was soon joined by three siblings.

As children of the richest man in England and grandchildren of Edward III, the lives of the first Beauforts were never going to be ordinary. But as bastards, their prospects were unlikely to be great. Their parents eventually married and the Beauforts’ were legitimisation in the 1390s. But few could have predicted how the dynasty would become interwoven with the politics of the following century.

The advancement of the Beauforts has its roots in the reign of Richard II. But it reached a new level when their half-brother usurped the throne as Henry IV.

The best example of how advanced the Beauforts were by their Lancastrian kin is their rapid acquisition of land. By the end of the 1440s they were the dominant landowners in Somerset and a major landed player in the Westcountry. Just 50 years before, they didn’t own a single square meter in the county.

Bishop Beaufort served as his half-brother’s Lord Chancellor

It isn’t just the speed and volume of land acquisition that’s significant. It’s the location. In the late medieval period, landowners were desperate to consolidate their landholdings in an individual country. It cemented their Lordship. But kings were determined to frustrate such ambitions. The idea of nobles building unwieldy regional power bases did not appeal. When large estates were granted, they were typically regionally disparate.

In consolidating their power in Somerset, the medieval historian Chris Given-Wilson notes that the Beauforts enjoyed their share of luck. But such a speedy consolidation would not have been possible without royal support. The Lancastrian Kings had significantly bent the rules for the advancement of the Beaufort relatives. As a mark of high favour, this cannot be underestimated.

From the earliest days of Henry IV’s reign, it was clear that the Beauforts were a family in favour. John was constantly in his brother’s company. He held high and lucrative offices such as the Captaincy of Calais. Henry Beaufort served as Lord Chancellor. Joan remained a countess though many had expected her husband to be reduced in rank. The young Thomas was set on a path of advancement that would one day see him become Duke of Exeter.

But why, if the family were in favour, did it take three generations for their advancement to truly be cemented. The answer lies in the very real constraints that bound medieval kingship – or at least should if a king were to be successful.

As a usurper, Henry IV had to be particularly careful about favouritism

It’s tempting to think of medieval kings as absolute despots with the power to dispense patronage as they see fit. History, however, had taught all kings to be cautious. All, that is, but the most foolish.

Extreme favouritism made a king vulnerable. When a lesser man was plucked out of nowhere and rapidly raised above the nobility of the day, the political order was in danger of collapse.

This was not simply because such actions ruffled the feathers of proud aristocrats. It was because extreme favouritism undermined the whole system of lordship on which the government in medieval England was predicated.

A lord built his power base on the land he held and the ‘affinity’ he was able to build in the shires and counties in which he was a major landholder. If land was given to an unworthy favourite, there was less for the established nobility.

But the problem went deeper than that.

A lord’s affinity in counties and shires where they were dominant (their ‘countries’ as they called them) depended on an unwritten, but very real code. If the gentry and players of that community would honour the lordship of the major landowner, that Lord would, in turn, act in their favour. It was never as crude as a quid-pro-quo. But through his access to the King, a lord could obtain justice, maintain order and open up possibilities for advancement.

For all of this, a lord needed the ear of the king. And to be perceived as having the ear of the king.

This was a reasonable expectation. The nobility was the ordained body with whom the King should socialise, fraternise and consult. But in a time when favourites had come to prominence, the natural order of things was distorted. If a King was beholden to the advice of his favourites – government by clique – what confidence could people have that the nobility were listened to? A Lord was at risk of losing his affinity. Collectively, this is something the nobility were unlikely to suffer for long.

All Kings were mindful of this. And none more so than Henry IV. He had had just overthrown a King renowned for favouritism. He was likely to be extra sensitive to it.

None of this means King’s didn’t have favourites. Edward IV had William Hastings. Henry VII advanced his stepfather. But for favouritism to be tolerated, it had to be measured, moderate and gradual. This was the policy that Henry IV would pursue with his Beaufort kin.

John Beaufort was a constant companion of his half-brother, the King

I began this post by contrasting the Beauforts with the siblings of Edward IV. But really that’s like comparing apples and oranges. The house of York claimed to be the senior descendants of Edward III. The late duke of York had been recognised as rightful king of England. Edward IV’s brothers were treated as sons of a king. A dukedom was their birth right.

In 1399, however, Henry IV had (rather spuriously) claimed the throne through his mother. The status of his paternal half-siblings remained unaffected.

Besides, the Beauforts never really lost the taint of bastardy. Once they were legitimised the nobility welcomed them to their ranks. But they were never really accepted as royalty.

Good kings acted within the constraints of certain expectations. For a usurper like Henry IV to survive, patronage had to be used sparingly and strategically. That measured and sustained favouritism was focused on the Beauforts. In the dark days of the Wars of the Roses, that constant favour would be repaid in full.

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Could Margaret Beaufort’s parents have been a rare example of a medieval love match?

Posted on April 14, 2020May 6, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

John, duke of Somerset was a ‘Lancastrian prince’ who married beneath him. Was this an act of passion or were more pragmatic considerations in mind?

I’m going to let you into a little secret. At heart I’m a romantic. I think most Royal History Geeks are.

When I’m delving into the tales of England’s history, the personal lives and misadventures of those who shaped it always spark my curiosity. I’m as interested in them as I am the political, military or dynastic significance of their actions.

So as you can imagine, my sense of intrigue goes into overdrive when I think I’ve discovered that rare thing: a genuine medieval love match.

For a time I thought I had found just that in the union of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset and Margaret Beauchamp. Could it be that the parents of Margaret Beaufort and grandparents of Henry VII had married for love?

Let’s review the facts. John Beaufort moved in the upper reaches of nobility. He considered himself a Lancastrian prince. His status was high and he was in search of a fortune to match. The Earl of Somerset (as he then was) wanted to enter the league of the great landowners of the realm like York and Buckingham. And he also had a staggering ransom to pay off.

Like all the Beauforts, John was proud of his Lancastrian heritage and looking to join the ranks of England’s major landowners

Margaret Beauchamp was no slouch. She was from the top tier of the gentry and a landowner in her own right. But she was no aristocrat or major heiress. Besides, she already had children from a previous marriage. While her lands were not insignificant, they were unlikely to be inherited by a Beaufort descendant.

If money could not be the reason for their match, could the motivation have been more tender?

As I further explored the story of the pair, the tale of love seemed to continue. Ahead of setting off to war, John negotiated that should he die, his wife would retain the wardship of their then-unborn child. He was ensuring that mother and child would not be separated. Surely that can only be interpreted as an act of affection?

It was a wonderful thought. Sadly, it was one not informed by the realities of the time.

To a true Royal History Geek, there’s no such thing as too much research. Every facet of context we can absorb illuminates another piece of the picture we are trying to build. But I would have to concede that when you delve deeper and deeper into the economic and political structures of the day, you must prepare for romantic notions to be shattered.

With children from a previous marriage, Margaret’s modest fortune was unlikely to be inherited by any Beaufort descendent

John and Margaret are a case in point.

Elizabeth Norton was the first writer to set me straight on John and Margaret’s union. Margaret may not have been the sort of wife that a man of Somerset’s stature had dreamt of. But she was probably the best catch available. Having been imprisoned in France for 20 years, most of the prized brides of his generation had already been snapped up. Margaret, with her modest inheritance, could at least contribute something financially while he tightened his belt to pay off his ransom.

But what about Somerset’s negotiation with the King that his wife should keep their child’s wardship? Surely that could still be significant.

Significant it certainly was. But it’s probably not wise to interpreted it as an act of love.

Instead it should be understood as an attempt by the (by then) Duke of Somerset to protect the inheritance of his heir.

Had Somerset died while his child was a minor it would have created a ‘feudal incident’. And these were what 14^th century landowners feared above all else.

As Somerset held land directly from the King, Henry VI would have assumed responsibility for the young child. He would have granted his or her ‘wardship’ to someone currently in his favour. For the duration of the child’s minority, their ‘guardian’ would have taken responsibility for the Beaufort lands – and received all associated revenues. Crucially, whoever held the child’s wardship would control their marriage. He could literally sell it to the highest bidder.

Somerset, like all wealthy landowners, feared his estate falling victim to a ‘feudal incidents’

The child’s guardian could not deprive the heir permanently of their lands. But they could manage the estate in a way that would maximise short term revenue at the expense of responsible stewardship.

They could also try and ‘asset strip’ the estate by granting facets of land out to trust. This might prevent the heir from coming into the fullness of their revenue when they came of age. Such measures could be challenged legally. But it represented a clear risk to the child’s long-term best interests.

In the possible event of his early death, who could Somerset really trust to act in the best interest of his heir? Even his younger brother would have looked jealously upon the Beaufort lands that the offspring had inherited. Quite simply, only his duchess would possess a real interest in careful stewardship of the Somerset estate. Only Margaret could have been trusted to negotiate the best possible marriage for their child. And it is for these more economic and dynastic reasons, that the Duke would have been so keen to ensure that wardship fell to her.

By negotiating for Margaret Beaufort’s mother to hold her wardship, Somerset was protecting the Beaufort lands. When the time came, this arrangement would not be honoured.

Of course, none of this is evidence that the pair weren’t a love match. It could be argued that attempting to secure the wardship for his wife was still an act of consideration, if not affection. It could also be read as a mark of respect. Unlike most women of the day, Margaret had experience as a landowner. She had demonstrated the competence to look after her child’s affairs.

A romantic streak is an asset to anyone exploring the stories of our forebears. It sparks our interest and encourages us to dig a little deeper. However, if our first commitment is to the facts of history, we must always be prepared to revise our romance when our understanding of the era deepens.

Friends, rivals, enemies? The relationship between Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville

Posted on May 14, 2017April 24, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

With the ‘White Princess’ currently broadcasting in America it’s important to take a more balanced look at the relationship between the so called ‘Red Queen’ and ‘White Queen.’

Being UK based I haven’t actually seen the ‘White Princess’ so I’m basing any comments on the book and what American friends have reported.

Sorry about the length and quality. Am working on my skills!

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Was Margaret Beaufort’s final marriage ever more than a business arrangement?

Posted on April 3, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

This is the last video on Margaret Beaufort’s marriages – but NOT the last video in the Margaret Beaufort min-series.

Let me know what you think…

How did Margaret Beaufort feel about her marriage to Henry Stafford?

Posted on April 3, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

We’re continuing to ask questions about Margaret’s marriages – this time to Henry Stafford.

Is it me, or do I look particularly cute in this vid 😉