Shortly after becoming King in 1483, the 12-year-old Edward V was lodged in the Tower of London to await his coronation.  His uncle and Lord Protector, the Duke of Gloucester soon arranged for the young King’s brother, Richard, Duke of York, to join them.  

But the day of the coronation never came.  Instead, it was announced that the boys were illegitimate – the result of a bigamous marriage – and that their Uncle would reluctantly reign as Richard III.  In the weeks that followed the boys were seen playing in the grounds or looking out of windows.  But such sightings soon stopped.  By the end of the year, they were widely presumed to be dead.

To the minds of many historians, the circumstantial evidence weighs heavily toward Richard’s guilt.  He had the motive, means and opportunity.  The Princes were in his custody.  But if Richard is the most likely candidate, he is hardly the only one.  A host of others have been accused of the crime over the past five centuries.  Some who have studied the subject, don’t believe the boys died at all.  And there is no hard evidence that they did.

No one wants to believe that an uncle could order the death of his nephews.  Any alternative theories are going to be attractive.  But when we start to scrutinise those on offer, each can, sadly, be found wanting.

Let’s take a quick look at them.

1. The Princes in the Tower were never killed

I would love this to be true.  Even 500 years later, the thought of what might have happened to those boys is chilling.  Could they have escaped a brutal end?  Might they have exchanged sovereignty for survival?

Sadly, I think it’s unlikely.  The theories range from Richard stashing the Princes somewhere else to a secret deal between Elizabeth Wydeville and her brother-in-law.   Secret identities and alternative careers as construction workers in Colchester are all offered as possibilities.

Others still, argue that someone sympathetic to the Princes managed to smuggle one or both from the Tower to safety.  Many would identify the imposter Perkin Warbeck as Richard, Duke of York, believing that the younger boy had somehow escaped his uncle’s custody.  Could the man sent to do the deed have taken mercy on him?

The belief that Richard had killed the Princes cost him dear.  Some could accept him as King but never tolerate child murder.  An unlikely coalition formed against him.  The remnants of Lancaster and supporters of his late brother, united against Richard’s reign.  Ultimately, they would take his life and his crown at Bosworth Field.  Had Richard been able to produce the Princes, this shaky alliance would have fractured immediately.

So why didn’t he?  That the boys were dead, and could not therefore be produced, is not the only explanation.  But it is, sadly, the most likely one.

One day, we may be allowed to DNA test the bones that were discovered in the Tower in 1674.  Should they be identified as those of the Princes, we will at least be sure that they died in the tower in the 1480s.

At the moment, we can’t draw too many conclusions from what we know of the skeletons.  But I will say this: the discovery of two skeletons, of children roughly the same age as the Princes in 1483, discovered exactly where Thomas More claimed they were buried, hardly detracts from the argument that the boys met their end that year.

2. The Duke of Buckingham did the deed to frame Richard, or to further his own claim to the throne

To my mind, this is the best alternative theory.  It’s certainly peculiar that Buckingham had been Richard’s staunchest supporter until he – somewhat suddenly – decided to spearhead a rebellion.  It may have been him that spread the rumours that the Princes were dead.  But could he have killed them? 

Some say that given his closeness to Richard, he was the only person that could have gained access.  I have some sympathy with that.  But even in this scenario, the King would have found out pretty sharpish.  Surely when he finally got his hands on the Duke, he would have publicly accused him.   It would have been the perfect solution for Richard.  His rivals would have been eliminated.  He would have been free from blame.  He would emerge as both legitimate King and grieving Uncle.

3. Seeing an opportunity for her son, Margaret Beaufort had the Princes done away with in 1483

This theory is popular on social media but not entertained by most historians.  I’ve blogged about why I think it has little weight elsewhere. 

Fundamentally, however much the Countess of Richmond was ambitious for her son, she wouldn’t have had access to the Princes in the Tower.  They were guarded by Richard’s men and she had nothing to bribe them with which was more attractive than the rewards offered by service to the King.

4. Henry VII, after his victory at Bosworth, had the Princes murdered

The first Tudor King has regularly been named as an alternative suspect.  But there are problems with this.  Firstly – and I refer readers to arguments earlier in the article – it relies on the Princes being alive until 1485, something which as I have demonstrated, seems unlikely. 

And what about Henry’s reaction to the pretender Perkin Warbeck?  Was he convinced that this man wasn’t truly Richard, Duke of York?  Some historians believe there was doubt in his mind.   A murderer would know the boys were dead.  Henry may not have enjoyed that confidence.

5. The boys died of natural causes

Edward V was being visited by a physician while in the Tower (before Richard removed his attendants).  Forensic investigations of the skeletons have shown some problems with the elder child’s jaw.  I’ve never known anyone die of jaw ache, although it could have been a symptom of something more serious.

But even if the elder boy had died, isn’t it a bit too convenient to think the younger had followed suit?  Had this gift been handed to Richard, surely he would have made use of it.

*

In a court of law, it would be unfair to convict someone by process of elimination.  The fact that these scenarios are unlikely to have played out, doesn’t make Richard guilty.

DNA testing of the bones may be able to confirm in the boys died in the tower.  But even that won’t tell us who killed them.  The truth is, we will never know for sure.

But as we begin to scrutinise all the alternative theories, we start to see their limits.  While recognising that we cannot be 100% certain, the finger of suspicion inevitable points again toward the man who took both Prince’s into custody, placed them in a high-security prison and, despite damaging rumours of their murder, never produced the boys to counter them. 

That man is Richard III.

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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

I have no memory of the famous assassination of Louis ‘Dickie’ Mountbatten.  It took place three years before my birth and was never something mentioned at school.  Yet, growing up in a coastal city with strong naval presence, his name was one I knew well.  The pub at the end of my road was even named after him.

Perhaps it was for these reasons that I decided, aged about 15, that he was my favourite minor royal of the 20^th Century.  Yes, you’re right.  I was a super-cool teenager.

Discovering my interest, some friends of my parents procured me a book about the late Earl when they passed a charity shop.  It was a kind gesture.  But the book was second hand and dusty with yellow peeling pages.  More worryingly the contents were dry and – most unwelcoming to a teenager – almost entirely reverential.

Such a book could simply never do justice to the scandalous Earl Mountbatten of Burma.  It certainly failed to capture the spirit of Edwina, his equally sensational Countess.  And, with thanks to a dial up modem and the early days of the internet, I soon found out just how much my dusty manuscript had been missing.

‘The Mountbattens’ by Andrew Lownie is an altogether more vibrant, more honest and more satisfying account.  A collective biography of the couple, it’s 388 pages explore their personal and public adventures in glorious – and occasionally graphic – detail.

The book guides us through the lives of both protagonists in parallel up until the point they meet and marry.  For many Royal History Geeks, the early adventures of Dickie – or His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Battenburg, as he was known for the first 17 years of his life – will more immediately pique interest.  It was he that had the royal connections and it was he that was closer to the famous events of that era that many of us will recognise.

As the narrative progresses however, Edwina and her story more than hold their own.  Not one to take a back seat, the wealthy heiress never risks becoming a supporting character.  The pages that explore her relationship with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister, are among the most tantalising in the book. 

The Mountbattens were at the centre of major events ranging from world wars to royal weddings.  But their role in delivering the independence of India will be the one that history remembers.  And their actions in this role, the ones that historians will judge.  Current analysis tends to be kind to the couple.  The author seems to agree.

Despite the high drama of their combined career, the book’s most intriguing pages are those that touch on the personal.  I had always known that the Mountbatten’s ‘enjoyed’ an open marriage.  But I’d failed to realise was that this was initially to accommodate Edwina’s desires and interests.  Dickie, Lownie tell us, was hurt by his wife’s distance and adultery.  It would, however, be an arrangement that the Earl would more than grow in to.

Whatever the ups and downs of their relationship, their parting was a painful one.  Lownie describes Edwina’s quiet death and Dickie’s grief with perfect poignance.  In contracts, Dickie’s assassination in 1979 is detailed with the drama it deserves. 

The rumoured bisexuality of Louis Mountbatten is explored at length.  The author seems convinced that evidence for homosexual behaviour exists and his presentation of said evidence is certainly compelling.  While this is hardly likely to ruffle many feathers with the modern reader, darker accusations of under-age sexual encounters exist.  The author does not dismiss them.

Throughout the book, the slow transformation of Prince Louis of Battenburg and Miss Edwina Ashley to the Earl and Countless Mountbatten of Burma is told with a pacey, compelling tone and accessible language.  It is perfectly suited to those who already know much about the controversial couple and to Royal History Geeks that have never come across them before.

The Mountbattens are still figures of living memories.  It is probably too early to measure their impact and assess their legacy.  But as this biography shows, their marriage, lives and career contain all the necessary ingredients to establish the couple as figures of interest for future generations.  Let’s hope that as tomorrow’s historians take up this mantle, they do so with the acute observations, careful analysis and skilful articulation of this biography.   

The Mountbattens: Their Lives & Loves by Andrew Lownie 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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People often claim that Richard’s reputation was distorted by his Tudor successors. But by examining the source material from Richard’s own time, we can be relatively clear on the events of 1483. We can make a reasonable assessment as to what happened to the Princes in the Tower.

In this video I make a couple of slip ups. I say ‘Richard II’ when I mean ‘Richard III.’ I refer to a source as the third ‘edition’ of the Croyland Chronicle rather than the third ‘continuation.’ Oh dear. It’s a good thing I’m pretty.

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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.

Ten years ago, most people had never heard the name Margaret Beaufort.  The mother of the Tudors may have been significant to history, but she was lacking a popular profile.

How times have changed.

Thanks to an explosion of interest in the latter half of the 15^th century, fuelled in part by a wealth of historical fiction, Margaret has shot to fame.  Or perhaps ‘infamy’.

For whatever reason, script writers and novelists have chosen to portray Margaret as a sinister character.  And for many people, fiction has been taken as fact.

It’s time for the truth to be told.  And in ‘the Uncrowned Queen’ that’s exactly what Nicola Tallis sets out to do.

The beginning of the book details the history of the Beaufort family and sets Margaret’s birth in the context of her royal descent from Edward III.  So often the Beauforts are simply a footnote in the Tudor origin story.  Readers will appreciate the attention that Tallis gives them.

As Margaret is born, readers quickly get a sense of how the tumultuous turns of fortune’s wheel will dominate her life.  By the time she is a year old, her father is dead.  She is one of England’s richest heiresses.  But she is also without a protector.

By the age of 13, Margaret is both a widow and a teenage mother.  She marries twice more before playing her famous role in the downfall of Richard III.  Tallis depicts Margaret as a woman who was a natural risk taker but became more cautious following a miscalculation in 1469.  But as Richard’s regime crumbled, she sensed her opportunity.  Once again, she through caution to the wind. 

Upon her son’s ascension, Margaret becomes known as ‘My lady, the King’s mother.’  And from this point on, records become plentiful.  Tallis uses the vast sources to great effect, painting a glorious picture of Margaret’s later year.  Yes, she was pious and invested in learning.  But as her household accounts reveal, she also liked the finer things in life. 

Some have criticised the book for being the ‘account that Margaret would have wanted written.’  One that emphasises Margaret’s qualities but fails to explore some of her less pleasant characteristics.  But all this really means is that the author has spent little time addressing the accusations that popular fiction has thrown Margaret’s way.  And why should she?  They aren’t based on historical fact.

The hardback book is beautifully produced.  Margaret would have been proud to find her portrait positioned above the Beaufort portcullis and inbetween two mythical Yales from the Beaufort crest.  The typeface throughout the biography is both pretty and easy to read.  The book contains two sections of stunning imagery.

To many Royal History Geeks, the outline of Margaret’s life will be well known.  What I particularly like about this book is the colour it adds to the picture.  Descriptions of the houses and castles in which Margaret dwelled helps us picture her in situ.  Analysis of her household accounts give a glimpse into her character.

Misunderstandings around the character of Margaret Beaufort are set to continue.  Such is the power of fiction and social media certainly doesn’t help.  But for people really wanting to delve into the history of the woman who gave birth to the Tudor dynasty, it’s reassuring to know that ‘the truth is out there.’  Much of it can be found in this excellent biography.

Uncrowned Queen, the Fateful Life of Margaret Beaufort, Tudor Matriarch, 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.

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.

Perhaps it’s the work of fiction writers.  Maybe it’s the discovery of Richard III’s remains.  But whatever the reason, the latter half of the 15^th century has never attracted so much popular attention.  If only we had a wealth of source material to satisfy the curiosity.

And what we do have – records of Parliament, patent rolls and a chronicle or two – focus on the exploits of men.  That’s typical of medieval history.  But it’s only half the story.

The long-running Wars of the Roses were a series of conflicts which saw women step outside their usual sphere of influence.  It was Queen Margaret of Anjou – and not her husband Henry VI – that led the Lancastrian fight back against York in 1460.  It was the plotting of Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville that bought Richard III’s regime crashing down.  It was Margaret of York, not either of her brothers, who came close to destroying Henry Tudor.

It would be tragic if those stories were lost to us.  Thanks to the brilliant ‘Blood Sisters’ by the talented Sarah Gristwood, such a travesty is avoided.

The brilliant book is a collective biography of seven women who were at the centre of events in the latter 1400s.  It records the high-profile exploits of the heroines already mentioned.  But it also shows how women constituted a hidden but powerful network of influence which played a part in shaping politics.  Cecily Neville, Anne Neville and Elizabeth of York would each played a crucial role in shaping our history.  Even if they had to do it through sons, fathers, brothers and husbands.

The book is underpinned by an ocean of research.  Yet every chapter is lively and accessible.  Gristwood began her career as a journalist.  It’s clear that writing remains one of her major gifts.  Despite its length and density, it’s easy to read the book in a few sittings.  Helpfully, given the number of heroines called ‘Margaret’, Gristwood uses culturally appropriate names to help the reader distinguish between them.

Popular historical fiction has partially distorted public understanding of this era.  The book is not written as a response to the beautifully produced but controversial ‘White Queen’ series of 2013.  It was published before the series aired.  But because it covers a similar range of characters it is an essential tool for anyone wanting to separate the fact from fiction.    

There is almost nothing I would change about this work.  It is stunning and studious.  But if I were being picky, I would eliminate Anne Neville from its pages.  I have yet to be convinced that her contribution to history was particularly meaningful.  In my view she should not benefit from the same attention as the remaining six heroines.  But on balance, this is not a significant complaint.  Afterall, to the true Royal History Geek, there’s no such thing as too much history.

In recent years, more attention has been given to the role women played in medieval history.  Fiction in particular has tended to suggest that they were the prime instigators of social shifts and political upsets.  As a feminist this appeals to me.  As a historian I’m more cautious. 

But in this researched and readable account, Gristwood demonstrates beyond doubt that this was a time when women broke the mould.  They stepped outside expectations and rightly deserve to be called the authors of our history. 

For any fan of the Wars of the Roses era, this book won’t just make an enjoyable addition to the reading list.  It will shed light on a crucial dynamic to the conflicts that we are unlikely to come across in other accounts of the period. 

Blood Sisters: The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses, 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.

Edward IV faced rumours in his own time that he was not a legitimate Plantagenet.  More recently, historians have raised questions around the circumstances of his conception and birth.

In this video, I outline why I do not believe claims of Edward’s illegitimacy bear scrutiny.

I am indebted to a blog post by Trish Williams on the History Files.  This post did not fundamentally change my view and I was already aware of the most of the information in contains.  However, I had not previously appreciated that the Earls of Oxford and Ormonde/Wiltshire had been in France with the Yorks in 1441.  This information is significant and a game changer in discrediting the rumours that surfaced in 1469.

Even before the ‘White Princess’ TV series, Margaret Beaufort was remembered as the mother-in-law from Hell. But does she really deserve this reputation? Check out my thoughts on the reason why Margaret was so much at court in the early years of Henry VII’s reign. What do you think?

The Queen’s announcement that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex will cease using the style His/Her Royal Highness has taken many by surprise.

Recently, the folks at CNN have published a piece stating that while the couple will not use the style, the Queen has not formally revoked it. 

This is true.  However, the rest of the piece shows how little the history and the use of the style is understood.  Because the article contains errors which seem to be widespread, I wanted to take a moment to correct the inaccuracies in the piece.

This blog post is not intended as a criticism of the journalist or the people who have been sharing the piece on social media.  Royal titles are complicated and opaque.  Rules have not been followed consistently throughout history.  They largely emerge from established custom and have not been logically or systematically developed.  I have been studying them for many years and thought it might be helpful to clear a few things up.

CNN claim: it’s entirely unprecedented for a monarch to ask her own grandchild to drop their title

This is probably technically true.  However, it is not unprecedented for royal grandchildren to stop using them.

When Princess Patricia of Connaught – granddaughter of Queen Victoria – married in 1919 she stated her wish to relinquish the style of Royal Highness and the title of Princess of Great Britain and Ireland.  Her cousin, George V, issued a Royal Warrant relieving her of the title and allowing her to be styled as Lady Patricia Ramsay with precedence before Marchionesses.

CNN claim: since the early 18th century it’s been customary for the title to be issued to sons and grandsons (and later, daughters and granddaughters) of the monarch.

It is certainly true that prior to the mid-1800s the use of the style was used inconsistently.  However, I cannot find any evidence that it was given to male descendants prior to their female counterparts.

It’s probably worth pausing here to quickly review the history of ‘Royal Highness.’  The best work on this is an academic study by Ann Lyon, but you have to pay to get it.  Hopefully, my more workman-like run through will suffice.

• From the late 1600s until 1714 the style of ‘Royal Highness’ was used sporadically but inconsistently for senior Royals.  There doesn’t seem to be any detectable pattern or method behind its use.
• With the Hanoverian succession of 1714, the Germanic practice of children and other male-line descendants of the King being called ‘Princes’ and ‘Princesses’ was cemented.  Generally, children of the King were styled as ‘Royal Highness’ although at times this was interchangeable with ‘Highness’.
• By the time Queen Victoria came to the throne, it was fully accepted that children of the sovereign were styled ‘Royal Highness’.  However, male-line grandchildren were styled ‘Royal Highness’ and ‘Highness’ interchangeably.
• As Queen Victoria’s family started to expand, people decided to actually sit down and think about the use of Royal style.  In 1864, the Queen issued letters patent clarifying that all children and male-line grandchildren of the sovereign were styled ‘Royal Highness’ with the titular dignity of Prince or Princess prefixing their Christian name or other titles.  These letters patent heavily imply that all other male-line descendants of a sovereign are styled as ‘Highness.’
• When foreign Princes who were due to marry one of Queen Victoria’s daughters and reside in the UK, the Queen granted them the style of ‘Royal Highness’ if they did not already posses it.  It was also granted to her own husband, Prince Albert.
• As a result of the ambiguity around the style of latter generations, George V had to deal with a number of requests from male-line great and great-great grandsons of British princes – now living overseas – who wanted to be clear on what their British style was.  Individual letters patent were issued to clarify that they were Princes of Great Britain and Ireland with the style of ‘Highness’.
• Perhaps fed up with these requests, at around about the same time as he changed the name of the Royal House to Windsor, George V issued further letters patent to further clarify the Royal style.  The use of Royal Highness was extended slightly to cover the eldest son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales and the style of ‘Highness’ was effectively discontinued.  This meant that male-line descendants of a sovereign would cease to use the title Prince / Princess after two generations.
• Ahead of the birth of Prince George, the Queen further extended the style of ‘Royal Highness’ and the title of Prince/Princess to all children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales.

CNN: HRH is bestowed upon royal members at the discretion of the monarch at the time, but was used liberally until World War I.

This is not true.  As we have seen from the above, Queen Victoria clarified the use of HRH in 1864 and it was clearly restricted to two generations.

CNN claim: in 1917, George V restricted how many minor royals were getting the title – at a time when there was public suspicion about the German origins of the House of Windsor, speedily renamed that year from the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.

Not true.  As we have seen, George V slightly expanded the use of the HRH style.  He did, however, heavily curtain the use of the Prince / Princess title and all but eliminated the style of ‘Highness’.

CNN claim: Queen Elizabeth II has loosened those guidelines, giving HRH status to a number of senior royals.

Not really.  The only extension she has made was to ensure the style went to all children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales.  Without these changes, only George would have been an HRH.  The younger two would currently be known as Lady Charlotte Mountbatten-Windsor and Lord Louis Mountbatten-Windsor.  However, they would have obtained HRH upon Charles’s succession.

CNN claim: They’ve agreed to be known as Harry, Duke of Sussex and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.

Have they?  I’ve seen this a lot on social media, but I can’t find any evidence for it.

If one is the holder of a peerage than using first names with titles is highly irregular.  There are plenty of Dukes who are not Royal.  For example, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire are known as just that.  Not Peregrine, Duke of Devonshire and Amanda, Duchess of Devonshire.

In reality, when involved in commercial work, I suspect that the couple will do what most peers do and use their title as a surname.  So, if the Duchess stars in a film, she will probably be credited as ‘Meghan Sussex.’  In the same way, the current Earl of Snowdon trades as ‘David Linley’, because prior to his father’s death his title was Viscount Linley.

The truth is, we’re not clear on how this is going to work yet.  I assume – although may be wrong – that when they do come to big Royal events, such as Charles’s coronation, they will still use HRH.

CNN claim: today, children and grandchildren of the monarch traditionally get the HRH title – though it was historically withheld from granddaughters

As explored above, I cannot find any evidence for this.  If anyone knows where this has come from, or if I have missed anything, please let me know.

CNN claim: Not everyone has accepted the offer of an HRH. Princess Anne, the Queen’s daughter, declined the title for her own children, Peter and Zara. That’s in contrast to Prince Andrew, who allowed his daughters, Beatrice and Eugenie, to carry it.

This is commonly stated but is not true.  Anne’s children were never entitled to HRH.  As you’ll see from above the title goes to children and male-line grandchildren of a sovereign.  This follows the usual pattern that a child takes their style from their father unless their mother has a hereditary title.

The only way that it could be argued that Anne ‘chose’ for her children to be untitled is that it is almost certain that her first husband – Mark Philips – was offered an Earldom upon marriage.  Had he accepted it, then Peter would be known as Viscount Something (Earls typically have two titles and the eldest son is known by the lesser in his father’s lifetime) and his sister as Lady Zara Tindall.

CNN claim: Kate and Megan were both were awarded the HRH title by the Queen after they married Princes William and Harry, respectively. But those who marry royals who aren’t as high in the line of succession may miss out. Jack Brooksbank, for instance, did not get the title when he married Eugenie, even though she is an HRH.

This is a total misunderstanding.  Under British common law, a woman becomes the feminine of everything her husband is.  So whoever HRH Prince Michael of Kent marries becomes HRH Princess Michael of Kent. 

However, women cannot communicate precedence, title or styles to their husbands, hence why Eugenie’s husband is untitled.  It has nothing to do with their place in the succession.  Hope this helps clears a few things up!