Statue of an enigma

In the Castle Gardens, Leicester, stands a wonderful statue of Richard III. The commission was carried out by James Butler, RA, and was erected in 1980. Repeatedly vandalised in the early days, it was transferred from its initial site to a less exposed part of the Gardens. This turned out to be an inspired move, for the interference ceased. From the new location, only yards away from Bow Bridge, it now directly overlooks the very route on which Richard led out his army westwards from the city on the morning of August 21, 1485, to locate and do battle the following day with the usurping forces of Henry Tudor.

This striking piece of work encapsulates so much of the drama and desperation associated with Richard III. It depicts the king on the verge of defeat, his clothes torn from his unprotected arms as he stands with his dagger gripped in one hand and his battle crown raised in the other. The face, a picture of searing anguish, searches to the heavens in this final moment of regal defiance.

There is no hint of deformity in this sculpture. Nor is there any evidence of Shakespeare's 'bottled spider'; no 'ugly and unnatural aspect' to furnish it. Those who wish to see such time-honoured peculiarities must look elsewhere. Here is the portrayal of a man with strong, regular features; here stands the warrior king, courageous to the last in his spirited defence of the realm. It might be argued this is how Richard himself would have hoped to have been remembered by the world at large. We know, these many years after his brutal death at Bosworth Field, that such a hope has not been fulfilled.

Shakespeare's play, Richard III, is the riveting masterpiece that brought the poet popular acclaim. Alas for Richard, it almost certainly cast its subject into eternal damnation. Posterity had been served up the epitomical arch-villain and it wasn't going to let it go. The great actors of succeeding generations faithfully rallied to the Shakespearean cause, right through to the 20th century when Laurence Olivier's stupefying interpretation gave the world the definitive article.

It is faintly ironic - some would say fitting - that the Leicester statue not only oversees Richard's path out of the city to battle, but also his awful and ignominious return in death and defeat. Perhaps in the irony we can see a kind of balance of the noble and ignoble aspects of this enigma. Perhaps, if we look hard enough at the statue and have the inclination on the day, we might even sense something of the heart-rending nature of the human condition.

Pic: (c) P Taylor

Death of a tree

A year ago I strode into Leicester's New Street car park with my camera as I set about researching the possible final resting place of Richard III. The car park is on the old site of the Greyfriars Monastery, the place where the slain king was brought by the friars to be cleaned and interred. I wanted a shot of the only thing that remains of the monastery: a small section of outer wall. As I wandered about looking like a cross between an American tourist and a reject hack from the Daily Star, the car park attendant emerged from his hut and steadily came towards me. Belatedly and sheepishly, I asked for permission to proceed.

This kindly and helpful man not only showed me the piece of wall I was looking for, but was very forthcoming about something else which I had not expected to find: a mighty tree, just a few feet from the wall and even closer to the attendant's hut. What a beast it was. Gloriously imposing yet strangely incongruous amongst the smart cars and busy patrons, its odd shape alone was enough to elicit curiosity.

"It could be 200 years old," he told me. "And I bet the roots spread right beneath the whole area of this car park. I reckon it could be two trees in one." I asked if that was possible; he assured me it certainly was. He even showed me the bend in the trunk where the merger had been effected.

I took photographs of the wall and of the tree. Imagine my surprise and sadness when I walked through New Street two days ago and saw that the mighty hybrid had been chopped down. For me it had become something of a marker; a point of reference to concentrate one's attention to the riveting possibility that somewhere beneath its shadow could lie the remains of England's lost king.

For those who do not believe the old legend that Richard's remains were ripped up during the Reformation when Henry VIII looted the Greyfriars, leaving a local mob to cast the bones into the nearby River Soar, the only feasible place where he could be is the area under the monastery grounds . . . where until recently a big tree had stood for a very long time.

For more about the above topic, please see my article 'Homeless Bones' in April's issue of Fortean Times (FT273), page 58-59.

Pics: 1.Tree in New Street car park. 2.Remains of Greyfriars Monastery wall. (c)

More news needed at Bosworth

Things seem to have gone a little quiet on the news front regarding the 'new battlesite' at Bosworth. We need to know if there are any more digs taking place and if any more evidence is emerging to back up the claims that the battle really took place on the Fenn Lane as suggested by the results of the Heritage campaign. Will there ever be enough 'finds' to confirm beyond doubt that the new spot is the real deal?

I personally feel we should be sceptical about putting too much faith in the grouping of cannon shot turfed up so far; cannon and gun shot deployment in 1485 was an inaccurate affair at best and they could not have landed all in one spot. There has to be more to come, or I am afraid the mysteries will continue. Perhaps that's the way it should be. Meanwhile, the field where we were told that these discoveries came to light seems remarkably quiet and untroubled . . . if not actually undisturbed by experts. Let's hope we are not being led down the garden path as well as down the Fenn Lane.
(Pic: Standard of Richard III on Ambion Hill (c) P. Taylor)

Bosworth Field: A version verified

In 1990, Peter Foss published a short volume on his take on the siting of the Battle of Bosworth, titled The Field of Redemore. In light of the recent surveys and digs funded by the Heritage Lottery, it is beginning to look as if Mr Foss was virtually spot on with his conclusions. In his diagrams of what he believes to be the site of the final melee, we can see the edge of the triangular field where the recent discoveries have been found. It is but a few yards further to the south-west, along the Fenn Lanes. Full marks to the man and his superlative interpretation of the battle. And the good news for traditionalists is that Peter Foss states that Richard most likely camped at Ambion Hill on the eve of battle, and would have used the lower slopes as the starting point for his move towards Tudor. Foss, having got the site of the denoument correct, is unlikely to have erred regarding other features of the conflict.(Above pic: the new field of battle, with Fenn Lanes in the distance.)

Digging up the past

There are interesting developments regarding the Battle of Bosworth. New finds from the archaeological dig have, I think, persuaded all but the most hard-bitten of traditionalists that the battle was fought a mile or two further to the south-west of the existing site. Having visited the new battleground with camera and notepad, I found it to a be a field like any other. That will soon be rectified, no doubt, pending permission from the landowner. However, all the cannon shot and belt buckles in the world will not tell us exactly why Richard III was defeated by a rag tag and bobtail set of mercenaries on August 22, 1485. No doubt someone was paid off handsomely for playing the deadly political game of duplicity.

I do hope that if any memorials are erected on this new site, it will only be for the brave warrior king and not the Tudor usurper. One wonders just exactly where on this field Henry was skulking when the final gratuitous blows were struck against the last of the Plantagenets. (Pic: Richard's standard on Ambion Hill)