Gone Medieval - The Battle of Bosworth

Episode Date: August 22, 2025

A King clinging to his right to rule. A young Tudor ready to snatch the crown and begin a new dynasty.With immersive sound design and cinematic story-telling; Matt Lewis brings to life one of the pivotal moments in English history—the Battle of Bosworth.On August 22, 1485, Richard III faced off against Henry Tudor, a clash that culminated in the end of the Wars of the Roses and marked a turning point for the English crown. From the strategic moves on the battlefield to the dramatic death of Richard III and the rise of Henry VII, Matt delivers a vivid recounting of the events that reshaped England's monarchy.MORERichard IIIPrinces in the Tower: New Evidence RevealedWatch Matt Lewis at Bosworth on History Hit's YouTube channelGone Medieval is written and presented by Matt Lewis. Sound design by Amy Haddow. The senior producer is Anne-Marie Luff.All music used is courtesy of Epidemic Sounds.Gone Medieval is a History Hit podcast.Sign up to History Hit for hundreds of hours of original documentaries including Matt Lewis' two part documentary on Richard III. Sign up at https://www.historyhit.com/subscribe. You can take part in our listener survey here: https://insights.historyhit.com/history-hit-podcast-always-on Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

From long-loss Viking ships and kings buried in unexpected places to tales of murder, power, faith, and the lives of ordinary people across medieval Europe and beyond. Join me, Matt Lewis, Dr. Eleanor Jarniger, and some of the world's leading historians as we bring history's most fascinating stories to life only on history hit. With your subscription, you'll unlock hundreds of hours of exclusive documentaries with a brand-new release every week exploring everything from the ancient world,

to World War II. Just visit historyhit.com forward slash subscribe. Hello, I'm Matt Lewis. Welcome to Gone Medieval from History Hit, the podcast that delves into the greatest millennium in human history. We've got the most intriguing mysteries, the gobsmacking details and latest groundbreaking research from the Vikings to the printing press, from kings to popes to the Crusades. We cross centuries and continents to delve into rebellions, plots and murders, to find the stories big and small that tell us how we got here. Find out who we really were with gone medieval. It could have been sunrise over any field on any day, but this was not to be an ordinary day. As the first thin rays of the summer sun reached across the landscape near

to market Bosworth. On the 22nd of August 1485, men feared, hoped, prayed, dared to dream, if nothing else of seeing the sunset at the end of the day. Horses stomp their hooves and whinnied as they felt the excitement and tension build around them. Voices were hushed but urgent, armour clanked and clattered. Swords clashed in the air as their owners nervously felt their weight and movement. There would be a battle. All knew that much. The fear lay in what they could not yet know. The outcome, the terror, the inevitable grip of death and the impossibility of knowing whether it would reach for you. Train all you will. Prepare all you can. Feel the fear still. This is the reality of the Battle of Bosworth and a day that would change the face of England forever. One dynasty ends.

A new one begins. This is the story, or at least a story, of how and why it happened. King Richard III had come to the throne just over two years earlier on the 26th of June 1483. That is a story told elsewhere amongst the gone medieval annals. His family, the house of York had taken the crown from Lancaster and it appeared that the conflict we now call the Wars of the Roses just might be over. But people had thought that before. Richard's brother had become King Edward IV in 1461. He'd lost the crown in 1470 and the following year, the 18-year-old Richard had helped his brother win it back in the heat of two battles. In 1483, age 30, Richard became king in a moment of crisis, which meant he struggled to find universal

acceptance of his rule. For some, a crisis is simply an opportunity. Now, Richard is 32. He faces his first battle in 14 years. He can see his enemies, but he has allies too. He has artillery and should have the numbers, but that is never a guarantee of victory. As Richard looks across the pale landscape in the early morning, he can see not only the forces of his enemy Henry Tudor, a man he doesn't even know but must fight. He can also see the third army in the field. Osworth is no ordinary battle.

There will not be two sides fighting each other to decide the outcome of the day. A third force is at play. As he surveys the field beneath his camp, Richard can't be certain for whom this third army will fight. They swore their allegiance to him, but word is, they've also sworn to Tudor too. King Richard might have reflected on what had led him to this moment. It's complex. Later writers have insisted that the disappearance and presumed murders of Richard's nephews remembered as the princes in the tower drove his... kingdom into opposition to his rule. Sir Thomas Moore's account states that after the murders,

King Richard himself, as you shall hear hereafter, slain in the field, hacked and hewed by his enemy's hands, hailed on horseback dead, his hair contemptuously torn and pulled like a curred dog, and this mischief he took within less than three years of the mischief that he did, and yet all the time he spent in much pain. and trouble outward, much fear, anguish and sorrow within. For I have heard by credible report of some who were secret with his chambermen that after this abominable deed done, he never had quiet in his mind. He never thought himself sure.

Fighting for the supposed fate of two innocent children makes for a good story, a fine cloak of chivalry to obscure the baser reasons that you might turn against. a king. But things are rarely that simple or one-dimensional. I'd suggest that it's the sanitised version, benefiting from hindsight that was offered to write as describing motives 20 years or more after the battle. Richard had undoubtedly come to the throne in difficult circumstances. He'd also undeniably failed to garner the support of all of those a king needed to keep him secure. It's been claimed that the nobility abandoned Richard. They did not.

Some were with him at Bosworth. The swift movement of troops denied others the chance to get there, and a few were with Tudor. Those who fled Richard's court were almost exclusively the southern Shire gentry. These were men who served Edward IV and reaped the rewards. They'd laid plans for the succession of Edward V to ensure their power remained intact and could flourish further. Richard's accession had disrupted those plans.

Rightly or wrongly, it hardly matters. Either way, they were disrupted. That cost men, money, power and influence. Richard came to the throne on a firmly anti-corruption ticket. He tore into the way his brother had ruled and allowed himself to be ruled. His parliament in 1484 insisted, such as had the rule and governance of this land,

delighting in adulation, flattery, and led by sensuality and concupiscence, followed the council of persons insolent, vicious, and of inordinate avarice. The southern Shire gentry had benefited the most from Edward's laxities. Richard's firm hand took away what they had become used to. Is this, perhaps, the true reason they fled and sought away to to rid themselves of Richard. Mind you, no one would openly take to the field of battle against God's anointed king on the basis that they demanded the return of corruption

and the ability to crush the ordinary folk without consequence. Imagine trying to get that slogan onto a banner. When Richard was gone, those who fought against him at Bosworth had the opportunity to claim they'd done so to avenge the supposed murders of his nephews. Digging only a little deeper into Richard's proclamations, his parliament and his legal reforms, it isn't hard to discern another possible explanation. Another man, emerging from what rest he might have been able to get, peered across the plane at King Richard's camp.

He is Henry Tudor, the man who has come to try to kill a king. He's built an unlikely alliance of ardent Lancastrians who cling to a cause long since lost. Disaffected Yorkists who need a figurehead and see in Henry a man of no experience who will need to borrow theirs. French soldiers given him by the King of France and Welshmen who see in Tudor their son of prophecy. The red dragon of Cadwalida returned to drive out the Saxon white dragon. It's a heady mix that hardly offers a guarantee of success. Henry is 28 years old. His father, Edmund Tudor, was half-brother to King Henry VI,

though they shared a mother, the French princess Catherine of Valois, rather than a father. Edmund was dead before his son was born. Henry never knew his father, though he had his uncle, Edmund's brother Jasper, at his side to fill the space that had been left. As he breathes in the morning air, he must, surely, be something close to terrified. He's been in exile on the continent for 14 years, half his life. He hasn't been in England since he was a boy.

He's kept alive the embers of acclaim to the title Earl of Richmond that had belonged to his father. But his presence here today is, he knows without a doubt, the work of his indomitable mother. Lady Margaret Beaufort was only 13 years old when her son was born. Despite two more marriages, she had no further children. Her son was removed from her care long before his exile, and their time together has been short, fleeting, but precious to them both. Margaret had been negotiating with Edward IV for her son's safe return to England. He'd agreed, drawn up the paperwork, and then died before he signed it.

mind you, I wouldn't be sure how far I'd have trusted Edward anyway. Richard would not, it seemed, honour his brother's agreement. Margaret's patience had reached its end. In the confusion of Richard's succession, she, more than any other, saw the opportunity in the chaos. She had stirred opposition to Richard in 1483, aiming to depose him in favour of the Duke of Buckingham, her nephew, The cost of her support was to have been Henry's return, but the uprising faltered. Buckingham lost his head, and Henry was forced to return to Brittany. Margaret is also the source of Henry's claim to the throne.

Richard has tried to cloud the matter with stories of illegitimacy, one of which is still disputed today. Margaret was a great-great-granddaughter of King Edward III, via his third son John of Gaunt, the patriarch of what became the Royal House of Lancaster. The Beauforts were born illegitimate, but later legitimised. The legal niceties of whether that gave them a claim to the throne hardly mattered anymore. Henry was here.

The last challenger to the House of York, a man who had grown up in exile, had no experience of government, had never been in a battle before, but who sought, by the end of this day, to be king of England. Then there's that third army I spoke of, the Spanner in the Works, the forces of a man who had sworn fealty to Richard, but is married to Henry's mother.

What of Thomas Lord Stanley? The Stanleys are an old family based in Lancashire in the north-west. For generations they've been slowly spreading their influence into Wales and across the region. Their fingers reach ever further, and they've been, The grip is felt by many more. Thomas' father took the family to New Heights as the first Baron Stanley. Thomas has been building on this legacy. He makes enemies but gathers power.

How has he done this? By never being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, by never actually turning up to a battle. Thomas has perfected the art of fence-sitting without ever getting a splinter. Parliament sought to charge him with treason for failing to turn out at the Battle of Bloheath in 1459, but the matter was lost amidst the escalating political crisis. He's never been swallowed by the churning waves of the wars of the roses because he spent the whole time on the beach.

He's always nearly waded in and naturally would have fought for whichever side won had he only been able to arrive on time. His marriage to Margaret Beaufort has always had more of a business partnership about it than a love match. Still, now it presents him with a unique opportunity. He's risen in the service of the York Kings, though he has memories of a feud with this Richard, who is now king, 15 years earlier. Henry Tudor offers something more, something his father could never have dreamed of. What if Thomas became the stepfather?

to the new king of England. In keeping with Thomas's cautious style, he's sworn to Richard that he will support the king, and also sworn to Henry that he will make him king. But he's not actually himself at Bosworth. The third wheel is being piloted by Thomas's younger brother, Sir William Stanley. Well, a man must have his plausible deniability, mustn't he?

Three armies, three leaders. Only two of them preparing to take part in the battle. Each must have their generals and supporters if they're to have any hope of winning the day. The Stanley Force is almost as large as either other army. Around 5,000 men, perhaps as many as 6,000. Numbers in medieval armies are notoriously hard to be certain about. Sir William is a much more committed Yorkist than his brother.

When Thomas faced charges for failing to fight for King Henry at Bloor Heath, William was firmly in the Yorkist army. He turned out for the House of York at almost every battle since. His sympathies matter little, though. William, doubtless, has his orders from Thomas, even if he isn't there to take responsibility for them, if they go wrong. Henry Tudor's force is a rag-tag mixture. Prominent amongst his army was his uncle Jasper Tudor, who was still at his nephew's side. The military's The military leader of the force was John Devere, Earl of Oxford. Edward VIII had executed his father and brother,

and he was implacably opposed to Yorkist rule. He'd been a pirate in the channel for a time before capturing St Michael's Mount. John was then taken after a siege and had been in prison in Calais for almost a decade before escaping to offer some tactical skill to Tudor's force. Some of Henry's men had left England since 1483, including Sir William Brandon, Henry's standard bearer, whose son, Charles, would become a close friend of Henry's son, Henry VIII. Sir John Savage led Henry's left wing.

Savage was one of those carrying Edward IV's coffin at his funeral, but he had fled Richard III's England. Several others who had become prominent members of the early Tudor government fought for Henry at Bosworth, his force totaling around 5 to 6,000 men. King Richard had marched out of Leicester to Bosworth with perhaps 10,000 men. He had the numbers over Tudor for what that was worth, but must have been acutely aware that if the Stanley force moved for Tudor, it would be him who might be outnumbered.

Doubtless, this affected his plans for the battle, and we will see signs of the impact of this unwelcome. consideration. Richard's army included the Duke of Norfolk. He had been loyal to Edward the 4th and didn't waver from Richard III. Norfolk was around 60 years old, vastly experienced and accompanied by his oldest son, Thomas Howard, who would later become Duke of Norfolk too. Norfolk also happened to be the first cousin to Tudor's commander, the Earl of Oxford. Henry Percy Earl of Northumberland was also with Richard, as were several of his closest friends and allies, including Richard Ratcliffe and Sir Robert Brackenbury.

Ratcliffe is the rat of the famous rhyme about Richard's rule that ran the cat, the rat and Lovell our dog, ruleth all England under the hog. The hog referred to Richard's badge of a wild boar, the cat to William Catesby, a lawyer in Richard's service and the dog to Francis Lord Lovell, Richard's closest friend, who doesn't seem to have been present at Bosworth, though not because he was disloyal, as Henry Tudor will discover later. Brackenbury is of interest because he was constable of the Tower of London, and the man later writers claimed refused to follow an order from Richard to murder the princes in the tower out of disgust.

Yet, here he is, fighting for the king who supposedly gave an order so abhorrent to him that he risked his life by refusing to follow it. Or perhaps there was no such. order. As Richard surveys the fields below his campsite, there is much to reflect on. What led him to this day to face this threat, the numbers on each side, the likelihood of victory, the cost of defeat, and perhaps the most terrible question of all. What would the Stanleys do when the time came? Another problem might have worked its way to the surface of Richard's mind. He hadn't chosen this location, the marshy fields of Bosworth for the battle, at least not through any carefully laid plan.

Perhaps the only solace lay in knowing that his enemy hadn't chosen it either. Richard had known an invasion was coming. He'd been waiting all the previous year and since the beginning of this year's campaigning season. What he didn't know was where the invasion might land. He seems to have had some intelligence that it would be at Milford, But the problem was, there's more than one Milford. Richard's close friend, Francis Lovell, may not have been at Bosworth because he was sent to watch the South Coast at Milford near Southampton. Richard based himself at Nottingham.

It was the geographical centre of his kingdom and offered him the best chance to respond quickly, wherever the threat came from. Previous attempts like this, including the one he had supported his brother in during 1471, had landed in the north-east. The South Coast was always a risk, and the Tudors had strong connections to Wales, which might make that an attractive prospect too. Richard was being cautious, and at Nottingham he had waited for news. On the 7th of August 1485, Henry Tudor landed at Mill Bay, near Milford Haven in south-west Wales.

He marched along the coast to Aberystwyth, McCunketh, where Owen Glendua had held his Parliament 80 years earlier. in an effort to free Wales from English control. He then cut inland heading for Shrewsbury before picking up the old Roman road of Wattling Street, now the A-5, that would take him directly to London. By now, news had reached Richard of the arrival of his enemy. He was hunting near Nottingham at the time and was reportedly delighted to finally have the chance

to deal with the last threat to his rule. The Crollan Chronicle claimed, the king rejoiced, or at least seemed to rejoice, because the long-wished-for day had arrived. Whether Richard was excited or it was all bravado, he must have been concerned by Tudor's course. Watling Street would carry him to London. Holding the capital had, time and again during the Wars of the Roses,

proven a pivotal factor in changing the head upon which the crown sat. Tudor might have known this too and been making a mad dash for London, but it's as likely he only meant to appear to be doing that. Any delay in the confrontation that was now all but inevitable could only favour Richard. Tudor had marched through Wales, his best recruiting grounds. He had all the men he was going to raise. Richard was still in the process of mustering his forces at Nottingham. Not everyone had arrived yet, so now was Tudor's best hope.

If he waited, his opponent would only gather more and more men. He needed to draw Richard out, and threatening to walk straight into the capital city was just the lure he needed. Realising time was suddenly against him, Richard moved from Nottingham to Leicester, and on the 21st of August 1485, he marched out of the city with all the forces he had gathered. He would intercept the invading force by cutting across Watling Street to block their path. That was what had led him to market Bosworth. He camped on a ridge the night before. His enemy's campfires visible, along with that third force, that must have been a concern both to Richard and Henry.

Now, morning had broken on the 22nd of August 1485. The time was now. Sources for medieval battles are important, but often sparse and prone to heavy bias, usually towards the winning side. We have a few written sources for the Battle of Bosworth, though they're light on any military detail. Every source is compiled after the result was known, when a new dynasty is on the throne, and so they're clear to whom God had granted the victory, and to whom it was politic to show deference and support. Also, spoiler alert, I'm going to talk.

a bit about who won Boswa, so if you don't want to know the results, look away now. Or turn the volume down. I'm not entirely sure if that British football-related attempt to the joke is going to land anywhere else. Sorry. The sources include John Rouse, who wrote soon after the battle. He highlights the problem with much of the material for Richard the third story. When Richard was alive, Rouse wrote that Richard was a great lord and an almost perfect prince. Immediately after Richard's death, Rouse wrote a new version of his work, in which Richard was cast as the Antichrist, born after two years in his mother's womb with teeth and sharp fingernails.

Polydor Virgil provides another account considered central to this period, yet he's an Italian who came to England 20 years after Bosworth and was commissioned by Henry the 7th, who had won the battle to write a history of England. Jean-Molinet is a Burgundian chronicler who offers a detailed account but at a distance. He gives interesting details, including Richard being killed by a Welshman, but needs to be treated carefully due to his detachment from the events he describes. Others mention the battle, and alongside these accounts we're lucky to be able to place a significant

amount of archaeological evidence. As recently as 2009, a project led by Glenn Ford relocated the battle by a couple of miles from the previously presumed location. A large number of archaeological finds, particularly cannonballs, helped drive certainty about where the majority of the fighting took place. A silver boar badge, Richard III's personal emblem, was found in one location, which suggests this was where the king fell, since such a high-status badge would likely have been worn by someone close to the king. If you'd like to find out a bit more about the archaeology of Bosworth, you can watch a film we made on History Hits YouTube channel all about it. You'll find a link in the show notes to this episode.

There's a book about the archaeology by Richard McKinder you might like to read, and there are two main interpretations of the deployments of forces, which you can find in books by Michael Jones and Mike Ingram. The argument centres largely around whether the army's fought on either side of Watling Street, or whether that should be rotated 90 degrees so that Richard's army straddles the Roman road to block Henry's path. I won't get into the weeds of that here. There's plenty that you can read if you'd like to know more, but I think it's time that we return to that summer morning

on the 22nd of August 1485. When it came to deploying his army, setting aside their orientation, we do know that Richard opted for the traditional medieval approach of dividing his army into three sections. This required a vanguard, which would be the front portion of the army, that would engage the enemy first. The second section, the bulk of the army would be in the centre behind the vanguard and would engage when required. The final group was the rear guard.

They were deployed at the back, partly to protect the army from being outflanked or attacked from the rear, and partly to provide a bank of further reinforcements for the army to be used to plug gaps as and when they occur. Richard's vanguard was led by the 60-year-old John Howard, Duke of Norfolk. Howard had been a prominent baron under Edward IV who had done some shady legal shenanigans to get the Norfolk title into his own family's hands when Howard ought to have received it. Richard had corrected this, making Howard a Duke. With the Duke was his 42-year-old son and heir, Thomas Howard, styled Earl of Surrey.

The rear of Richard's army was under the command of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. The Percy family had been staunched Lancastrians, but had been brought into the Yorkist fold by Edward IV. Richard had returned more of their lands to them too. There's reason to believe Percy might have held a grudge against Richard beyond this simple Lancaster York divide. The Percy's greatest rivals in the north were the Neville family, when Warwick's. the kingmaker was killed in battle in 1471, Percy may have expected his power to increase. Instead, Richard was installed as the effective heir to Warwick in the north. When Richard became king and left the north, Percy may again have hoped for his own power

and influence to increase. Instead, Richard used the Council of the North to rule there, and, in fact, returned to York soon after his coronation. Richard had frustrated Percy's ambition at every turn. There will be question marks over his part in the battle, as we shall see, but it's interesting that he was there, that he travelled all the way down to Bosworth to appear in Richard's army. Richard led his own centre, surrounded by loyal knights, many of whom had known him for a long time during his decade ruling the north for his brother. We're told by the sources that Richard placed a crown

on top of his helmet before the battle. If he did, it's an interesting move for a number of reasons. He was ensuring he was clearly identifiable as king and commander of the army. He had no intention of hiding. The last time a king was recorded to have taken this step was Henry V at Agincourt. Richard was drawing a powerful parallel, and, I think, setting his embattled claim to the throne before God, as I suspect Henry V did at Agincourt, attempting to put an end to opposition to Lancasterian rule.

He placed his fate into God's hands, hoping for vindication. What must have been going through his mind as he mounted his horse, which stomped and snorted as it sensed the tension and excitement growing around it. Not too far away, plenty must have been going through Henry Tudor's mind too. Unlike Richard, Henry had never. been in a battle. He had no experience of drawing together the disparate men that had gathered around his banner. He must have known he had fewer men and less artillery than his opponent. Jasper Tudor, Henry's uncle, had more experience, but seemed keen to remain close to his nephew.

Fortunately for Henry, he had the ideal candidate to command his forces. John Devere, 13th Earl of Oxford. Oxford was 42, had been an implacable Lancasterian and enemy to the House of York and a prisoner for years in Calais before his escape. When he joined Henry, the exiles gained a military leader that they'd previously lacked. Oxford was an experienced military man, not a particularly successful one to this point, but he was the best option available to Henry. On the morning of the 22nd of August, Oxford was busy deploying Henry's army in a single block. Their lower numbers meant they lacked the luxury of following military orthodoxy and splitting the force into three.

Instead, the invading army would fight in one unit. Oxford must have believed it offered their only chance of countering the king's greater numbers. Well, not quite the only chance, because there is that third army prowling the countryside in the early morning. Their numbers could even up the fight. or crush Henry utterly. The Stanley army added a dimension of complexity to everyone's plans that was unwelcome, not least because neither side could be sure who the Stanley force would fight for

when push came to shove. Both must have suspected they would be looking for a chance to deliver a decisive blow, to appear to win the battle for whomever looked like they were about to win anyway. That was the Stanley Way. Well, if they stepped in to fight at all. Thomas, it appears, had not turned up at all again. Leading the family's forces was his younger brother, the 50-year-old Sir William, who'd shown himself a committed Yorkist in the past.

They had about 5,000 men, maybe more, enough to be critical to both sides. It's likely they had a cavalry force too. If you get into the landscape at Bosworth, you can imagine this group of horsemen disappearing and emerging from behind hills, so it remained unclear for as long as possible where they might attack or offer support. They could keep both sides on their toes and both sides hopeful while doing nothing until the moment was right.

It's been claimed that Richard was holding Thomas Stanley's son, Lord Strange, hostage, and that he now sent word to the Stanley camp that unless they join the battle on his side, Strange would be put to death. Thomas's men did not move. The claim continues that Richard ordered Lord Strange to be killed, but his instruction was ignored. I say all of this is claimed because ignoring a king, even, and perhaps especially on the brink of a battle,

was a dangerous move, but also because the Stanleys were the masters of shaping their story to make themselves the heroes. This was Stanley myth, to make it seem like they only delayed joining on Henry's side because of the mortal danger Lord Strange was in. I suspect, like so much that the Stanleys wrote about themselves, this is simply not true.

The atmosphere in all three camps must have been thick with tension. There would be no parlay here, no last-minute negotiations to avoid a fight. There was no room for talking. All that remained was the battle that would determine the outcome. And then it began. The crack of cannon fire split the air and echoed across the landscape, as though the very earth trembled in fear and anticipation.

More cannon, mostly from the king's army, archers began to bend their bows, following the rhythmic beat of knock, draw, loose, knock, draw loose over and over again. The snap of bowstrings added to the sporadic thunder of gunpowder igniting, filling the air with the sour smell of sulphur. It was something like rotten eggs. There's a reason no one followed a gunner to the latrine. Conventional military wisdom warned that whoever moved first was likely to lose a battle.

You should select an advantageous position and stay there. As was the case with the deployment of his men, Oxford lacked the option to stick to this advice. The Royal Army had him hugely outgunned. He couldn't simply stand still and be pounded into the ground. So, the Crowlin Chronicle tells us, Oxford marched his men toward the enemy. It's possible Oxford took a slightly curved route towards the Royal Army though. If so, it served several purposes.

Many accounts of Bosworth talk about the effect of marshy ground, particularly in hampering the Royal Army. It would seem a gross oversight on the part of Richard to pick a position that put his manoeuvreability at a disadvantage. Perhaps Oxford sought to change the orientation of the battle in order to use the marshy ground to give him some protection and a little advantage. Oxford would also later claim that he made this move to put the low morning sun at his back and directly in the eyes of his enemy.

This is one of those textbook tactics the invaders could finally employ. Having been forced to set aside so much military acumen, perhaps Oxford was extra keen to display that he did know of this wisdom and could use it when possible. The final factor that might have played into Oxford's march was a desire to compel Richard's army to move and engage. Then they would have to stop the relentless cannon fire and arrow volleys. Looking as though you're about to outflank you're about to outflank you're

about to outflank your enemy was all but guaranteed to force their hand. An alternative interpretation given some support by recent archaeological finds is that Norfolk actually set off first, leading Richard's vanguard, moving to flank Oxford, causing Oxford to have to wheel Tudor's men around and move out to face Norfolk. The plan here, espoused by Richard McKinder, is that Norfolk was drawing Oxford and the bulk of the army away from Henry and his small bodyguard, leaving the rebel leader exposed to a cavalry charge that would sweep him away. The nature of medieval battles and the sources available make it hard to be certain. Was this Oxford's plan or Richards? Either way the hail of arrows ceased and men prepared

for hand-to-hand combat. As the two blocks smashed into each other, the ring of metal-on-metal rent the air and bill hooks, swords and maces met. The army and weapons of the enemy. The Battle of Bosworth was underway. It wouldn't take long for the momentum to shift dramatically to one side. Oxford and Norfolk's men had crashed into each other. Their lines were engaged in a grueling melee

as they fought for their lives. The clank and scrape of metal-on-metal mixed with the grunts and screams of men whose survival meant the death of others. Early in this brutal hand-to-hand fighting, Norfolk's banner fell. He'd been cut down and his son was injured. With its commander killed, signalled by his banner being lowered, Richard's vanguard was in trouble. A banner signified the presence and location of a leader.

For medieval armies losing a leader was a cause for panic. And it would have filled Oxford's men with confidence. They were beating the odds and driving the king's forces. his back. Oxford must have felt like his decision to pack all of his men into one unit and to get the sun in his enemy's eyes was paying off. But the most dramatic moment of Bosworth was about to play out. Richard saw Norfolk's banner fall. It was the worst possible start to the battle and he knew his vanguard was at risk of falling apart. We know what he did next. With the crown gleaming atop his helm, he gathered his most faithful household knights about him and began to ride forward.

Slowly, at first, he was still some distance from his target. The horses would need to save their energy to drive a terrifying charge into Tudor's ranks. It must have been a spine-tingling moment to witness. Horses win it, hooves thundered, and the ground shook. It was like something From a bygone age, the English heavy cavalry charge had been out of favour for more than a century by now. What was Richard doing? There are a couple of plausible possibilities. Recountings of Bosworth will usually explain that in this moment, as Richard's vanguard and the bulk of Tudor's army clashed and Norfolk fell,

Richard saw a clear path to his enemy across the battlefield. It sometimes suggested that Tudor was moving, towards Stanley's position to encourage him to join the fight, and that this also drove Richard into ordering the charge. Another theory set out in Richard McKinders' book is that the charge was part of Richard's battle plan from the outset. I find this notion interesting and compelling. Richard was fascinated by old-school chivalry. His personal library was packed with romances and tales of knightly deeds. A glorious cavalry charge. have had a chivalric lure for him. Tactically, it made sense too. Richard knew he had the numbers

and by the time the armies had deployed it was clear, Tudor's force was in one main block, with just a small bodyguard around their leader. It's possible Richard was expecting this from Oxford. If Norfolk had managed to draw Oxford out wide, it may have been to clear a path to Tudor. There are more reasons to think this is a possibility too. Part of Part of the problem with battles in the Wars of the Roses, as Richard had discovered first-hand at Barnet and Chukesbury, was that English tactics worked perfectly in France, but English armies against English armies saw each cancel out the other, making for dangerously unpredictable stalemates. The cavalry charge was an unexpected move that could have offered a huge advantage

to Richard. It was something different. What the king might not have foreseen was that Tudor's bodyguard was largely made up of French conscripts who knew how to defend against a cavalry charge. That might not make the plan a bad one, but it was certainly bad luck. Maybe you can think of other reasons why this might have been Richard's battle plan, but the final one I'll suggest is the shadowy specter of the Stanleys, that third army at Bosworth that made it a more complex affair. Thomas Stanley had sworn to support Richard. He'd also met to his stepson Henry on his march and promised to support him. Richard may have known this, or at least suspected it might be the case.

Stanley's loyalty was never certain, and the lure of being the new king's stepfather must have been strong. This tactic of hiving off quickly the bulk of Tudor's army to clear a path for a cavalry charge that would deal quickly and decisively with the figurehead of his opponents would answer the question for Stanley. The swiftness would remove the dangerous threat of uncertainty as to what the Stanley army might or might not do. None of this fits the later narrative of the victors because it involves Oxford's hand being forced, Henry being left dangerously exposed, Stanley being suspected of treason and Richard having a sodded plan.

Plan or not, the aim of the charge was clear. Kill Tudor and end the battle. Just as Norfolk's fall was dangerous for Richard's vanguard, Tudor falling would be catastrophic for his army. Who would they fight for then? There was no one else. The battle would be ended in the instant Tudor was killed. That, at least, must have been the idea

as the horses gathered pace across the fields. At some point after Norfolk had fallen, Richard had ordered Northumberland to move up from the rear section, and reinforce the vanguard. The fact that Richard didn't do this from his own force in the centre is perhaps another hint that the charge was his plan all along. But Northumberland remained still. For centuries the question has been, why?

Did the Earl betray his northern rival in the hopes of greater power for his family? Did some marshy ground prevent him from maneuvering to help Norfolk? If so, he would point to a tactic. oversight in the deployment of Richard's army. Another possibility is that Northumberland was pinned down by the presence of Stanley. He may have felt moving would dangerously expose his men or the rest of the king's army to an assault by William Stanley and his cavalry. All we can say for certain is that Norfolk had turned up for the king. He'd come a long way to stand and do nothing. And Henry, as we shall see, didn't seem to know of any plan.

for Norfolk to betray Richard. Richard's mind must have been racing as he sat atop his his destria, his medieval warhorse, encased in metal that amplified the growing warmth of the day. What he was thinking as he spurred his horse to increase its pace and cover the shortening distance between him and Judah can only be guessed at. He trained for this moment. He'd been in two battles, though that had been 14 years ago when he was still a teenager, and neither had involved a cavalry charge like this. It was a gamble made with the highest of stakes, his own life, and those of his friends who tried to keep pace with him. As he moved closer to Tudor's position, the king encouraged his horse to reach full speed. He lowered his lance

and couched it under his arm, braced to take the impact he was about to create. If we could watch this moment in slow motion and ignore for a moment the horrors. of the battle around it. The scene must have been spectacular. Dozens of nights riding at full gallop across a wide green field, the glint of sunlight on polished armour, the flashes of colour as pennants rippled in the air and surcoats flowed behind the wearer. The thunder of hooves on the ground, beneath their helms, the riders gritting their teeth in determination against the fear they must have begun to feel. The adrenaline surging through rider and horse, dampening the terror of what was about to come. For Henry, it could have been nothing short of a horrifying sight.

I'm imagining that mass of muscle and metal moving across the horizon. For Henry, they're aiming right at him, and this is not something he has any experience of. Did he want to run? I would. Henry, though, didn't. For all the accusations he receives of cowardice, he stood his ground as the thunderous noise of the hooves filled his ears. Our slow-motion view of the battle for a moment, it might look like the king has everything in his favour. He brought a gun to a knife fight.

He was about to mow down the last threat to his crown. But if we look closely, we might see the fly in the ointment. The men around Henry aren't his English followers. Most of them are off with Oxford fighting Richard's now leaderless vanguard. Look closely at the livery. They're French. And the thing about the French is that they've never forgotten how to counter a charge of heavy cavalry.

Press play on our freeze frame and Richard's plan is about to crumble into the dust. Those around Henry alert to the damage to the damage. danger spring into action. They arrange themselves into what is known as a hedgehog because, well, it looks like a hedgehog. A bristling array of long pikes is set to meet the thundering approach of the knights. As they smash into each other, chaos erupts. Despite the defences, Richards-Lance kills Sir William Brandon. This is a critical moment. Brandon is Henry's standard bearer. He goes down, Henry's standard goes down, and the rest of the army could be thrown into panic. This was what Richard had wanted. If they're not fighting for Henry, what are his men

fighting for? And why would they continue? One point of speculation here is at whom Richard aimed his lance. Traditionally, it's asserted he was aiming at Henry, and he might well have been. Killing the figurehead of his opposition was a sure way to end the battle. It's possible instead that Brandon was the king's target all along. The falling of Tudor's standard would send a message to the rest of the army at a moment when Richard's own vanguard was struggling after Norfolk's death. There was a calculation to be made and whether it was better for the first strike to take out Tudor or bring down his standard. Each achieved a slightly different step towards victory. Perhaps Richard simply knew he had to hit one or the other from the saddle

of his thundering warhorse. The fact that Richard killed Brandon, whose entire job was to stand beside Henry Tudor, demonstrates just how close the two protagonists were at this moment. They'd never met, but now they could lock eyes through narrow visors on a stranger, each had sworn to kill. The question was whether what Richard had managed to do would work.

Could Brandon's fall ends? the battle. While he awaited an answer, Richard could get on with trying to complete the outstanding task of dealing with Henry Tudor. Richard must have felt that he was so close, even as his friends began to fall around him. Then it came. The moment he dreaded, that he had tried to avoid, that he must have suspected was only a matter of time. Stanley's cavalry, led by Sir William, appeared and charged towards the fighting around Richard. Did the king wonder whether they just might be here to support him? He must have known their intervention now would be decisive,

just as they had surely planned it to be. William had always fought for York, but he was here on his brother's orders. Thomas was an altogether more slippery character with an eye on putting his wife's son on the throne. For how long might the king have wondered which way this would go? His charge must have been designed to deal with the invader before the Stanley showed their hand, which probably means he knew in his heart what this meant.

Stanley's cavalry rode past the rear of Henry's army and didn't engage where it might have sown panic. No, they were not here to help the king. And Richard, in this moment, must have known the odds had tipped terrifyingly against him. History and the lives of men in the Leicestershire field would hinge on what happened next. Amidst the fighting around the charge, Richard also unhorsed Sir John Cheney, who had been Edward IV's master of the horse and was one of the few Englishmen around Henry Tudor.

Chaney survived living until 1499 when he was buried at Salisbury Cathedral. When his remains were later examined, his thigh bone measured 21 inches, which has led to his height in life being estimated at 6'8. Given that Richard was described as slight, his skeleton confirming as much and that his scoliosis was advanced by this point, this is a striking demonstration of his ability to fight. Despite having unhorsed Cheney and killed Brandon bringing him within reach of Henry Tudor himself, Richard was not to get the glorious end his cavalry charge might deserve.

The French defensive tactics, the hedgehog, did its job. Stanley and his horsemen crashed into the king's knights in a cacophony of horses, metal, and men screaming. Richard's household knights, the friends who had ridden beside him, began to fall one by one. Now, Richard's own standard bearer, Sir Percival, Thurwell, came under attack. He reportedly had his legs hacked off, but continued to hold the royal banner aloft until he was run through and killed.

Accounts here are muddy and some are laden with hindsight. It seems Richard was dismounted, his horse perhaps encountering some of the marshy ground in the area and becoming bogged down. The king was unhorsed, dragged to the ground, surrounded, alone amidst enemies baying for his blood. Examination of Richard the Third's skeletal remains has revealed 11 wounds, serious enough to leave a mark on his bones. Nine of those were to his head. At least two might have been sufficient to end his life.

A piece of bones sliced from the back of his skull, probably by a pole arm with an axe on the end, is perhaps the most likely to have killed him. The Welshman, Rysap Thomas, or one of his men, was credited in a Welsh bardic poem with delisive. delivering that blow of shaving the boar, the boar being Richard's personal insignia. The cold brutality of the science can hardly convey the horror of the battlefield, when those bones were surrounded by flesh, seared by slicing blades,

encasing lungs that fought to draw one more breath, a mind that raced and a heart that thudded. Several contemporary or near-contemporary sources offer testimony that in the heat of of this moment of terror, Richard, remain a brave knight, like those in the books he enjoyed reading until the very end. These writers are no fans of Richard. In the instant of his death, it became unfashionable, dangerous indeed, to say nice things about him. Yet here, they unanimously risk praising the dead king. The Crowlin Chronicle wrote, For while fighting a knot in the act of flight, the said King Richard was pierced with numerous deadly wounds and fell in the field like a brave and most valiant prince. John Rouse recorded, after cataloguing Richard's evil acts and comparing him to the Antichrist,

For all that, let me say the truth to his credit that he bore himself like a noble soldier, and despite his little body and feeble strength, honourably defended himself to his last breath, shouting again and again that he was betrayed and crying, treason, treason, treason! Polidore Virgil, a man hired by Henry Tudor to write his story, conceded in his account that King Richard alone was killed fighting manfully in the thickest press of his enemies. This is perhaps the highest praise, from the pen of a hostile writer.

Richard III died with bravery, but surrounded by foes and under a relentless hail of blows and cuts, he nevertheless died. The reign of King Richard III ended. England was on the brink of a change, the magnitude of which few on the 22nd of August 1485 could have comprehended. Not only did the fate of the Crown rest on the outcome, but lives would be left. lost. Casualties were relatively low at Bosworth due to the swift conclusion to the battle. Perhaps a few hundred men were lost. Even a few, was a few too many for those whose sons, husbands and fathers would never return home. The Duke of Norfolk was dead. His son, the Earl of Surrey, was seriously injured and taken captive. Men who had been close to Richard

for years lay amongst the slain. Sir Robert Brackenbury, constable. of the Tower of London. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, the Rat of the Rhyme. Sir Walter Devereaux, Sir James Harrington and other knights lay lifeless on the ground. On Henry's side, Sir John Cheney survived his injuries, but Sir William Brandon was killed. Brandon's son Charles would later become a close friend of Tudor's son, Henry VIII. Raw numbers will always struggle to convey the horror of each individual loss. Henry Tudor's forces had won the day, largely thanks to the decisive intervention of the Stanley army. The crown that Richard had worn on his helm was legend holds discovered under a thornbush. Sir William Stanley took it to Henry and presented it to him. There could be no clearer signal in that

moment to whom Henry, now hailed by his men as King Henry the 7th of England owed his elevation. For what it's worth, the new king, bewildered as he must have been, knew where the real credit lay. No one had done more to bring about this battle and the victory he had somehow just achieved than his mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort. This day was hers. Henry quickly gave orders that Richard's men were not to be chased. There would be no rout and victorious hunt of the vanquished. Somewhere on the battlefield, Richard III's body was being stripped naked and thrown over the back of a horse.

At least one of the wounds on his skeleton suggests a dagger was driven into his buttocks as he hung prone, an act designed to humiliate the corpse of the dead king. The new king ordered his forces to march to Leicester, the place Richard had departed from the previous day. All who had seen Richard ride out as king must now know he was dead. and there was a new game in town. They all had to play. Once at Leicester, Henry must have been a little uncertain about precisely what to do, how to be the king.

Richard's battered body was put on public display for several days. No doubt many came to gore but the spectacle of a mangled dead king. That was the point. Henry and his regime needed everyone to be certain that Richard was definitely dead. and could not later be rumoured to be about to return. The more people who looked, the better. A lawyer who had become a close associate of Richard

since he became king, Sir William Catesby, was in Leicester. He is the cat of the cat, the rat and lovela dog rhyme. Captured, he was executed in the city. But this was largely the extent of Henry's reprisals. Norfolk's son Thomas Howard the Earl of Surrey was wounded and taken captive. He would go on to serve Henry the 7th and his son as Lord High Treasurer and in 1514 aged 71 regained the dukedom of his father. The Howard Dukes of Norfolk would have a great impact on Tudor, England.

Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland, was also taken into custody and sent to the Tower of London for several months. This suggests that he'd made no previous. arrangement with Henry to betray Richard at Bosworth. Perhaps it was a spur of the moment choice, or perhaps he had not betrayed the king but been trapped by circumstances beyond his control. The Earl would be killed four years later in 1489 during a tax riot in the north of England. Some sources suggest he was targeted for his perceived betrayal of Richard III at Bosworth. The North retained affection for the lost king. When news of the defence, he was targeted. When news of the

feet at Bosworth reached the city of York, its council made no effort to hide its dismay, nor to court the new regime. The minutes of the council recorded that the great and good of the city were assembled in the council chamber, where and when it was shown by diverse persons, and especially by John Spooner, sent unto the field of Redmore to bring tidings from the same to the city, that King Richard, late mercifully reining over us, was through great treading of The prison of the Duke of Norfolk and many others that turned against him, with many other lords and nobles of these north parts, was piteously slain and murdered to the great heaviness of this city.

They were wrong about Norfolk's treachery, but they were either brave or foolish to champion a dead king against the man who now wore the crown. After a few days in Leicester, Henry prepared to leave. He was petitioned by monks from the Greyfriars Church in the city to allow them to bury Richard's body with dignity and respect. He gave this permission, but it must have been through gritted teeth that made the monks wary. The grave they dug was in the choir of their church, a place of the highest honour, but it was shallow and too short, as if done in haste under impatient watching eyes.

Around 1494 as the 10th anniversary of Bosworth and Henry the 7th succession approached, the not so new anymore, King ordered the construction of a tomb over the grave of his predecessor. 10 pounds, 12 shillings was paid to a James Keely for King Richard's tomb. It's striking that Henry is willing to position Richard as a king. There is no effort to wipe away his reign. After almost a decade of ruling and desperately fending off the same kind of threats that he had been to King Richard, had Henry developed some sympathy for the trials and tribulations of the man he had deposed. It was all taking a toll on Henry,

and he perhaps began to almost regret his role in inflicting the same torment on Richard. There is no record of what this tomb looked like, though an inscription added to it in Latin was recorded. It can be translated as, I, here, whom the earth encloses under various coloured marble, was justly called Richard III.

I was protector of my country, an uncle ruling on behalf of his nephew. I held the British kingdoms in trust, although they were disunited. Then, for just 60 days less two, and two summers, I held my scepters. Fighting bravely in war, deserted by the English, I succumbed to you, King Henry the 7th.

But you, yourself, piously at your expense, thus honoured my bones, and caused a former king to be revered with the honour of a king, when in twice five years less four, three hundred five-year periods of our salvation passed, and eleven days before the calends of September. I surrendered to the red rose the power it desired. Whoever you are, Pray for my offences that my punishment may be lessened by your prayers.

A decade after Bosworth, this was not a reviled man believed to have killed his nephews. Henry honoured a man whose turmoil he now understood better than any other alive. The crown was a prize that revealed itself to be a terrible curse. For a long time, Bosworth has been used to demarcate the end of the end of the medieval period and the beginning of the early modern. It's a convenient, if anglocentric moment to use perhaps, but it also demonstrates the watershed moment the battle is understood to represent. It didn't end the medieval period in England or anywhere else. Henry the 7th was a thoroughly medieval king. Yet something did change. Henry faced the same kinds of challenges that Richard had from those

from those who saw him as a usurper and sought to remove him. Therein, I think, lies the sympathy evident in the tomb and its inscription. Henry kept his throne, though. When he died in 1509, he was succeeded by his son, Henry VIII. The less said about him, the better. The early modern period is welcome to him. But this was the first time a father would successfully pass the crown to his son, since 1422, 87 years earlier. turmoil of the 15th century had been put to bed, albeit with tantrums and screaming and demands for one more story. Having spent so long gazing at its own naval, England was once more ready

to look outward. Sorry Europe, but I'm afraid the eyes gazing at you across the channel belong to Henry VIII. With all that he would tear down about medieval England, nevertheless, the civil war we know as the Wars of the Roses appeared at least to be over. Bosworth marked at that turning point, if not quite the arrival at the destination. Tudor propaganda needed to justify their assault on the throne and they would position Bosworth as a true watershed moment. It wasn't quite that, but it was certainly a moment. Whether it was a good one or a bad one is a matter of perspective, I guess.

You can listen to other episodes of Gone Medieval about this period of history, including a series on The Wars of the Roses, and our first ever episode, which was about Henry the 7th. Have a look through our back catalogue if you'd like to discover more about the fascinating period that culminated in the Battle of Bosworth. If you're a history hit subscriber, you can also find a two-part documentary we made about Richard III, as well as one on the project that sought to recreate Richard's voice.

If you're not a subscriber yet, there are plenty of reasons you should head over to history hit.com forward slash subscribe and sign up. You'll find a link in the show notes below for this episode. There are new installments of Gone Medieval every Tuesday and Friday, so please come back to join Eleanor and I for more from the greatest millennium in human history. Don't forget to also subscribe or follow us on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts and tell all of your friends and family that you've gone medieval. Anyway, I better let you go.

I've been Matt Lewis and we've just gone medieval with history hit.