THE HISTORY GALS: Daily Mail: Richard III may have been INNOCENT of ‘Princes in the Tower’ murders by Mary Ann Bernal and Vivienne Brereton

 Following the Adventures of Jen and Lucy

Jen Hailing from New York City

Lucy Hailing from the Cotswolds

Breaking News from the Daily Mail spreads ripples across the pond where Lucy’s favorite Anglophile is doing a happy dance after reading the article about Richard III. The ecstatic American has only recently returned from Britain but still has one foot remaining firmly in Leicester.

Replying to Lucy’s email, Jen’s nimble fingers can’t type fast enough, prompting a video call between them to discuss the latest development furthering Richard III’s cause.

Jen is sitting in front of her computer, her excitement evident to Lucy when making the connection.

“I told you Richard was a nice young man with a kind face and couldn’t possibly be guilty,” beams Lucy. “And how wonderful that a historian from Leicester University believes the younger prince, the King’s nephew, and namesake, little Richard of Shrewsbury, was returned to his mother and lived out his life in peace. What a happy ending!”

“Who would have thought proof about the King’s lack of involvement with the princes would come up so soon after we visited Bosworth Field,” Jen replies. “Have to love historians!”

“We certainly do,” nods Lucy, lifting a cup of Earl Grey to her lips. “I think Philippa Langley has done an absolutely splendid job with her Missing Princes Project. That shows real dedication.”

“But what about the Queen not letting the scientists examine those infamous bones found under the stairwell in the Tower. We have better technology since they were last examined. It’s a cover-up if you ask me.”

Lucy gives a guilty glance over at the two porcelain corgis in pride of place on the mantelpiece as if they can hear the blasphemous words. With Charles and Camilla living only a mile or so away at Highgrove, one never knew who might pop in. A lifelong royalist, Jen’s words feel almost treasonous, but she can’t help wholeheartedly agreeing. “I would like to know the Queen’s reasons, I must say.”

“Me, too. So, what do you think? Is this John Evans really Edward V?”

Lucy picks up an organic lemon biscuit from the Highgrove shop, deciding she can’t imagine Camilla baking them. “Well, I must admit, the arguments are very convincing. Especially his name starting with E for Edward and V for the fifth king. And AS for ‘asa’ in Latin, which means sanctuary. Someone certainly had a sense of humour.”

Jen looks thoughtful. “Probably Richard himself? To show the boys’ mother he was still honoring their royal status. After all, he must have been the one who originally came up with the plan.”

“It’s odd that there are only two other glass portraits of Edward V and one is in the royal window at Canterbury Cathedral. Why is there one in a rural church in Devon in the middle of nowhere? It doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Lucy can’t help herself. “Oh, Jen, how I wish you were here now. I could take you for supper at the Snooty Fox. Wouldn’t it be fun to catch up with all this? I’ve been thinking how hard it must have been for the princes’ grieving mother to strike a bargain with her brother-in-law after the death of her beloved husband, King Edward.”

“I don’t think Elizabeth Woodville was easily swayed. She must have known in her heart that a Protectorship was extremely dangerous to her son’s well-being. Edward would never rule; he’d be taken prisoner or killed because he stood in the way. And Richard must have mentioned the battles destroying the Houses of York and Lancaster. The country needed peace, and Richard had proven himself in the north. He could govern wisely, and that’s what England needed, a strong leader. She had no choice but to trust her brother-in-law.”

“That makes sense, Jen. As a mother of two sons myself and looking back from our time, I, too, would think it was safer if Richard, as Edward’s surviving brother, and an adult, took over.”

“If that’s what happened, score a point for Richard. Unfortunately, when he was killed, Henry VII’s mother, that conniving Margaret Beaufort, decided to blacken Richard’s name, saying it was better for her son if everyone thought the princes were dead. So, Yorkist Richard became a murderous uncle and the devil incarnate. And Henry Tudor, an angel from heaven. The House of York to whom the new Queen belonged - vilified - and the new King’s House of Tudor - praised to the skies. What bull! Excuse my French.”

Lucy sighs. “Poor Elizabeth Woodville. She didn’t stand a chance against that schemer. There certainly wasn’t room at court for a Queen’s Mother as well as a King’s Mother. But galling as it is, Margaret Beaufort was probably right. If everyone thought the boys were dead, no one would come looking for them. And there could be no factions. Elizabeth’s daughter would be married off to Margaret’s son.”

“Yep. A win-win situation for everyone except for Richard! Of course, I also loved the DaVinci code reference in the article. So exciting. It reminded me a bit of Indiana Jones and “digging in the wrong place.” There were so many clues no one bothered to check. Why? Because they didn’t want the truth! Looking the other way kept them in power – yeah, I’m talking about the Tudor upstart and his mother. Too convenient if you ask me. And let’s not forget that cunning Margaret had the boys’ mother packed off to Bermondsey Abbey. I’m sure that wasn’t in the original deal with Richard. She was probably jealous that Elizabeth was still beautiful and a King of England had lost his heart to her, a commoner.”

Lucy suddenly thinks of the wonderful courtship between the Queen and Prince Philip portrayed in The Crown, and her eyes mist over. “Actually, I think their story is very romantic.”

“I agree. Edward and Elizabeth’s marriage is a storybook happy ending. On the other hand, I don’t think Margaret was ever truly in love. She seemed like such a cold fish, hiding behind piety! Yet, in all fairness, Margaret probably had no choice and made the best of a bad situation. But I still think she is as guilty as sin! Her fingerprints are over everything, including this deal if it ever existed.”

“Well, we’ve got a real mystery on our hands now. As good as any episode of Midsummer Murders.”

“I love John Nettles. And he always got his man.” Jen giggles. “The cops caught many criminals by following the money. With us, we follow the documents! As for Thomas More, he was only five when the princes in the Tower disappeared. He was nothing more than a Tudor puppet. Until the day arrived when he wasn’t.”

“You mean when he lost his head,” says Lucy in a solemn voice.

“Exactly. No one said no to Henry VIII and lived to tell the tale! So, anything More wrote about Richard was total hearsay, not admissible in a court of law.”

Lucy is full of admiration for her friend. “Didn’t you study law at university, Jen? You always seem to know so much. I met Giles right after I left boarding school. He was a few years older and persuaded me not to bother continuing with my studies. I had a place at Durham University to study history.”

Jen notices a fleeting sadness when looking directly into Lucy’s eyes. She isn’t sure she likes the sound of Giles, whom she suspects is overbearing and controlling. He probably didn’t want Lucy to go to college to prevent her from outgrowing their relationship and running off with someone else smarter than him! She wonders if he approves of Lucy’s passion for history. Almost certainly not. Jen is more determined than ever to help her friend pursue her hobby. “On my next trip over, we must visit Coldridge and St. Matthew’s church and check out the clues mentioned in the article. What do you think?”

Lucy claps her hands together. “Oh, yes, I’d love that. I can’t wait to visit the church and see all the clues Edward or, should I say, John Evans left there. Ones that will absolve his uncle of all guilt. I wonder what all the naysayers are thinking now. The ones who are so vocal about Richard III being guilty. Good King Richard! We’re riding to the rescue. Your name will soon be cleared.”

Read the Daily Mail article HERE

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 Vivienne Brereton

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Mary Ann Bernal

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The Princes in the Tower

Source:  Wikipedia Commons

THE HISTORY GALS: Tavern Talk - Richard III - Guilty or Innocent? by Mary Ann Bernal and Vivienne Brereton

Following the adventures of Jen and Lucy

Jen Hailing from New York City
Lucy Hailing from the Cotswolds

Lucinda and her friend, Jennifer, visiting from New York City, are on the first day of their stay in Leicester. They are both members of an international Richard III Society and have become firm friends online – now thrilled to finally meet in person.

Jennifer has meticulously written a timetable for them, but by 6 p.m., Lucinda is secretly on the point of collapse; clearly, her once-weekly gentle Pilates with the girls isn’t enough to match Jennifer’s boot camp level of fitness. She also isn’t used to getting up at 5:30, but Jennifer convinced her they should arrive at Bosworth Field before the crowds. Back in the city, a patient curator has just gently ushered them out of the King Richard III Visitor Centre at closing time.

 

“See you tomorrow at nine, Jen,” she calls after them, giving a friendly wave.

 

Lucinda has noticed that everyone seems to like Jennifer; it’s certainly very hard not to be charmed by her new American friend.

 ******

                                                   

“Perhaps the museum with Richard’s original sword is still open,” Jennifer says with unflagging enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to ask if I can hold it.”

 

Slightly appalled at the idea, Lucinda puts one hand to her forehead. “I’m a tiny bit tired. Would you mind if we stopped for a drink?”

“What a great idea!” beams the American, darting into the nearby King Richard Arms before Lucinda can stop her. She was thinking more of a quiet pre-dinner G and T back at The Hilton, maybe a long soak in the bath. As they walk into the darkened pub, they immediately spot a man and a woman dressed in medieval garb enjoying a pint.

 

Jennifer grabs Lucinda’s arm. “Lucy, look, we need to get a picture of those two! Maybe, they’ll agree to a selfie?” She goes quite pink, obviously excited at the prospect.

 

Lucinda has given up asking Jennifer not to shorten her name. “Um, yes, but they do look rather engrossed in deep conversation – perhaps later; let’s not get too touristy, you promised!”

Jennifer laughs good-naturedly. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? No worries, I won’t embarrass you. But re-enactors are used to adoration from their fans, especially tourists!”

 

“Let’s order first,” Lucinda says, flagging down a passing barmaid and rather grandly asking for a bottle of their best champagne.

 

“Come, let’s sit near them,” Jennifer insists, dragging Lucinda to a nearby table.

 

Jennifer is taking in the quaint atmosphere, observing architecture from earlier times that has survived the passage of time. She chooses the seat closest to the couple who appear to be having a heated conversation.

 

“Tis a shame what they’re saying about His Grace, God rest his soul,” the woman says while crossing herself. “And people are agreeing! It is not right, I tell you!”

Lucinda thinks it’s very bad manners for actors to be practicing their lines in public. She can’t imagine such a thing happening at The National in London.

 “Lower your voice,” the man in costume replies. “The king has spies everywhere.”

“The Tudor upstart is not our king! It’s his mother’s doing that brought him here! Devout and pious, my foot! She’s a scheming charlatan, that one! Don’t be fooled by her lies! And that husband of hers is no better! The true king died in battle because of his betrayal! I can only imagine the pain Richard felt when he saw Stanley’s army fighting against him. There is no justice!”

 

“You speak treason.”

 

“I speak the truth!”

Lucinda is debating whether to ask them to keep their voices down when Jennifer leans over, and whispers in her ear – “They are really in character, aren’t they? We have to find out where they’re performing.”

At that moment, the door of the pub flies open. Two soldiers dressed in medieval garb and wearing Henry VII’s badge walk in. With hands on the pommels of their swords, they look around the room.

“We have to leave,” the man says, glancing at the door. 

“They are not looking for us,” the woman tells him.

“We can’t chance it,” the man says as he pulls her out of her seat.

Jennifer is transfixed to see the fear in the woman’s eyes before turning her head back to the men. 

“Lucy, look! Those men – wow, don’t they look menacing?  Do you think they’ll take a picture with me? OMG, this is so exciting. We might be participating in a skit. You know, like those murder mystery dinners where the cast interacts with the audience. This is so cool.”

Jennifer dives into her purse to get her phone, hoping to take some authentic action shots, but by the time she turns around, the couple has vanished along with the king’s soldiers. “Where did they go?”

“Probably out through the rear entrance,” Lucinda replies, grateful to see the back of them. Now she can enjoy her champagne in peace. 

“I don’t see a back door. Now that is weird. What if we stumbled into the past somehow? That would explain us witnessing a moment in time – like a portal opening or something.”

“You Americans watch far too much television.”

“Then what is your explanation for them vanishing – poof! – just like that. I bet if we ask the barkeeper, he’ll deny seeing anything strange or out of the ordinary. It’s typical of that Brit stiff upper lip thing you have going where you say nothing about feelings or anything weird.”

“Jennifer, I think they just left – you missed the football crowd coming in a little while ago; that’s when they walked out of the door, I am sure.”

“Since we both saw them, suffice it to say they were there, and we did overhear the conversation. Let’s just toss it up to too much of the bubbly. But I assumed they were talking about Richard III and Henry VII. And the woman was right. Henry VII did not deserve to be king. Shakespeare did a great disservice to Richard’s memory. The same with Thomas More. Look who ruled while they were writing about Richard – the Tudors! Of course, they wouldn’t tell the truth. They’d be dead if they did! And if Shakespeare were alive today, he’d be sued for defamation of character. A good lawyer would have a field day in court – and it would be broadcast on CNN!” 

Lucinda reaches out for a menu. “You have to remember there are a lot of opinionated people here in the U.K. who are convinced of Richard’s guilt.”

“Oh, because they believe the fake news about the Princes in the Tower?”

Lucinda laughs. “I do love your passion. Let’s order some food to keep us going.”

“In mock trials in the U.S. and I believe here in the UK, Richard was acquitted. Hearsay and circumstantial evidence create reasonable doubt. Besides, I think our pious Margaret Beaufort orchestrated everything.”

Lucinda is impressed by her clever friend’s knowledge and liked the idea of an American-style courtroom drama. “How about we compare notes? The pros and cons for guilt or innocence,” she suggests, getting into the spirit of things. This American friend of hers was so different from her other ones. Much more fun a lot of the time, wearing her heart on her sleeve.

“Great idea! How about starting with the obvious fake news – like being two years in his mother’s womb. Seriously?  But then people have believed ridiculous headlines throughout the centuries – the one with a political candidate running a sex trafficking ring out of a pizza shop back in D.C. comes to mind. So, it’s not just your lot not thinking straight.”

Lucinda nods in agreement. “You’re right. Shakespeare wrote for dramatic effect. However, his skeleton has proven that Richard did have a mild form of scoliosis, but he certainly wasn’t the hunchback of popular folklore. He’s been accused of terrible crimes, but he was actually very brave charging into the thick of the battle.”

“I agree, he was braver than most, kings included, but the nitty-gritty is with the princes in the Tower. What happened to them? They disappeared just like our couple with the soldiers,” Jennifer starts to laugh.

Lucinda smiles back. “But we can’t escape the fact that Richard did have motive and means. I read somewhere that the powerful Howards could have been involved with helping Richard. Just after little Edward V was taken to the Tower, John Howard ordered two sacks of lime.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. But for sure, they were up to no good.”

 

“Who knows? The father and son were made Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Surrey just days into Richard’s reign.”

 

“I can see why that would be suspicious. But speaking of motive and means, Henry and his mother definitely had it. So did the Duke of Buckingham – what was his name?”

“Henry Stafford.”

Jennifer nods. “Ah, yes, another Henry.”

 

“My grandfather always used to say ‘never back a man who changes horses mid-race.’ Like Buckingham did when he switched from Richard to Margaret and Henry. No wonder Richard had him executed.”

 

“He chose poorly,” Jennifer laughed, remembering the line from Indiana Jones, wondering if Lucy had seen the movie, then realizing she hadn’t when she didn’t react as one might expect. “In my opinion, Richard had no reason to get rid of his nephews. They were declared illegitimate; besides, Richard was already king. However, as the saying goes, the buck stops here – Richard was King, ergo, he has to take responsibility for their disappearance.”

Lucinda shakes her head. “That doesn’t seem fair at all. To be accused of a crime you didn’t commit, just because you’re in charge.”

“But life isn’t fair. And let’s not forget Elizabeth Woodville, the boys’ mother. If she suspected Richard of murderous intent, she never would have allowed them to be housed in the Tower. Score a point for Richard!”

“That’s exactly what I’ve always thought too. I would never have allowed my Toby or Rupert to go anywhere near such a man when they were little. And when they did the reconstruction of Richard, he had such a pleasant face. A thoroughly nice young man of thirty-two. Not a monster at all.”

“Monster-maker Shakespeare filled the seats. That’s all he cared about. People aren’t interested in the truth. They want drama; who cares about the lies – remember the gladiators of Ancient Rome – blood, and gore to satisfy the unruly spectators! But I am digressing. Margaret Beaufort had everything to lose. You know my views here, but I will add she included Henry in the conspiracy. The perks associated with wearing a crown are very tempting – money and power – the guy was not stupid – you will never convince me he was ignorant of his mother’s plotting. And don’t forget, with Richard dead, Edward’s son gets the crown, not Henry. Henry couldn’t let them live. Don’t you find it interesting that Henry never mentions the princes – like show the kids or the bodies – it was as if they never existed. And we can throw Buckingham into the mix. There you have it – the trifecta of guilty suspects. I rest my case.”

Lucinda raises her glass. “If I were on a jury and you were the prosecuting Queen’s Counsel, you’d convince me to send them all down.”

Their serious discussion is briefly interrupted by the barmaid placing enormous plates of food in front of them.” 

“I do love Yorkshire Pudding,” Jennifer says, her eyes lighting up as she gazes down at her plate. “Enjoy,” she says to Lucinda, picking up her fork.

“Bon appetit,” replies Lucinda, seriously envious of Jennifer’s impressive roast beef dinner and secretly wishing she’d hadn’t opted for the far more virtuous poached sole, new potatoes with steamed kale and beetroot. None of her other friends would ever dare order such a calorific meal as Jennifer, but she seems oblivious. The sautéed mushrooms and oven crisp roast potatoes look so much more appetizing than the minuscule new potatoes on Lucinda’s own plate. And that Yorkshire Pudding is the biggest she’s ever seen! She hopes that at least she can persuade Jennifer to swap her mangetout for the little pot of mushy peas she’s been given. Her husband, Giles, is most disparaging about them and thinks they should have remained where they were in a fish and chip shop. Perhaps Jennifer has never tried them?

 

“I’m really not into peas,” Jennifer says, pushing the dish towards her friend after noticing the look on Lucy’s face. “I take it you don’t like mushy peas either.”

“They’re an acquired taste, one I’ve never managed, I’m afraid.”

Lucinda’s mouth is watering as she watches Jennifer spear a juicy-looking roast potato. “Now, remember to save room for the sticky toffee pudding.”

“I prefer the apple cobbler or crumble, as you call it here. But do you think they’ll serve it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream instead of clotted cream – that’s not really my thing.”

Lucinda desperately tries to keep her eyes averted from Jennifer’s plate as she pops a piece of bland fish into her mouth, followed by a particularly tough strand of the rather bitter kale. “I am sure they will.”

 

“This must be the best roast beef dinner I’ve ever tasted, Lucy! I love the mushrooms and even the potatoes. As for the Yorkshire Pudding – oh, to die for! How’s your fish?”

 

“Delightful,” lies Lucinda, silently dreaming of sticky toffee pudding.

 

“Why not try some of my roast beef? I’d rather see you enjoy these tasty morsels than ask for a doggie bag. I’m assuming they give doggie bags.” Lucinda starts to put her hand up in protest, but Jennifer quickly drops two beef strips onto her plate. “I insist.”

  

Jennifer’s thoughtfulness touches Lucinda as she picks up a strip of what turns out to be the most perfectly roasted joint of beef. Maybe having one’s name shortened isn’t such a bad thing after all. “You are right, Jen; the beef is a far better choice.”

 

“It’s so much fun trying to solve a real whodunit while enjoying good food with such a great friend. Perhaps that couple was sent here for us to reopen the case against Richard III, proving his innocence, once and for all. We could rewrite the history books!”

“Not an easy feat,” Lucinda smiles, clinking glasses. “A toast to our friendship and finding the truth, wherever it may take us.”

“Loyalty Binds Me!

“Loyaulté me Lie!” Here’s to our next adventure, Jen, wherever that may be.”

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 Vivienne Brereton

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Mary Ann Bernal

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Richard III

Source: Wikimedia