Avoiding the question of Richard
on the anniversary of Bosworth Field.
I am often asked if I have ever
thought of writing a book about Richard III. I have, of course, but I don’t
think I ever will. I am fascinated by the period, the transitional events of 1485
but it is something I’ve avoided although I am a Ricardian at heart and
have been a member of the Richard III
Society for … erm, well forever.
I first came across Richard when
I was about sixteen and he was still widely largely regarded as a ‘crook-backed
monster.’ He was brought to my attention by a television programme, a spin-off
from the show, Softly Softly, starring Stratford Johns and Frank Windsor; I
think it was called Second Verdict: Who Killed the Princes in the Tower? But my
memory is vague now.
It was a police investigation,
one of the first instances of a new perspective of Richard being aired to the
general public. After watching it I wanted to know more. My imagination piqued,
I read Josephine Tey’s, A
Daughter of Time, and became completely hooked on Richard. His portrait
has hung on my wall for forty years now – gosh, I am getting old. I read
everything I could lay hands on, fiction and non-fiction, and took my history
teacher completely by surprise when I centred my GCSE project on Richard III
and the mystery of the princes. I found that project a few months ago chewed by
mice and the ink faded away to nothing –it was sad to find all that teenage
passion turned to dust.
The ‘Richard’ of my teens was a
romantic, maligned, tragic hero-figure, and necessarily very handsome but, these
days my objective, adult mind acknowledges I was way off the truth. So much
more research has been done and new light thrown upon the matter but I am
afraid that, if I made him the protagonist of one of my novels, the childhood
ideal might reassert itself. There are, in my humble opinion, a few too many
novels that take a romanticised view. I am not sure he’d be flattered.
Since the discovery and
reinternment of his body at Leicester interest in Richard has become a bit of a
three ring circus – it seems that anyone who can hold a pen has been inspired
to write about him. I wouldn’t want to join those ranks.
Richard was certainly not the
monstrous figure that Shakespeare depicted but he was no saint either, and it
is more than likely that he was guilty of at least some of the crimes assigned
to him. He lived in harsh times, from the earliest age he was embroiled in
violence. At the Battle of Wakefield, he suffered the death and posthumous
humiliation of his father and elder brother. The struggle for the throne saw
him exiled and, on his brother’s behalf, he entered the perils of battle when
he was (to modern eyes) little more than a child. He was very religious; family
orientated and, up until a certain point in time, seems to have been completely
honourable. Even before he took the throne he was an immensely powerful,
influential lord, the king’s right hand, a soldier, and an ambitious man. But
because he was battle-hardened and politically ruthless doesn’t mean he would
resort to murdering small children. Perhaps Henry VI was fair game, and the
swift unauthorised execution of Hastings has, to me, an act carried out in
haste, regretted at leisure.
This month marks the 530th
anniversary of The Battle of Bosworth. There will be celebrations,
re-enactments, and, hundreds of articles and blogs written on the subject.
Richard will be dug up again, his character put through the paces once more, endless
speculation and immense fun. The fascination of the struggle between York and
Lancaster, the mystery of the fate of the princes and the enigmatic figure of
their uncle never palls. Thanks to the furore surrounding his reinternment,
(barring perhaps Henry VIII) love him or hate him, Richard III is now probably
the most famous of our English kings.
These things should make him
irresistible to any writer but not me. Many novelists portray him as a cruel,
calculating usurper, murdering small children and kings, and making martyrs of
his brother’s friends and poisoning his wife. Equally, from the other point of
view, he is often a saintly, romantic, sweeter than sweet victim of capricious
fate. Rarely does an author find middle ground and, until I am convinced I can
write the definitive Richard, a convincing, multi-faceted human character, I
will concentrate on other men.
Having said that, Richard III is
not absent from my novels. I cannot resist the pull of the transition between
York and Tudor and all the conflicting personalities of the period. A
Song of Sixpence is narrated by Richard’s niece, Elizabeth of York, and
(for the sake of the story) his nephew, Richard of York (Perkin Warbeck). The
novel opens just after Bosworth. Both characters remember King Richard kindly,
and (since Richard of York has not been murdered) neither regard him as a cruel
man, but he clearly isn’t a saint either. After Richard III is slain in battle
Elizabeth is faced with marriage to a man she has been raised to mistrust, and
York/Perkin is exiled, battling to raise an army to regain his rightful throne.
When the two finally meet again … well, you will have to read the book to find
out.
Judith’s novels include:
A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of
York and Perkin Warbeck
Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr
The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne
Boleyn
The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry
VIII
The Song of Heledd
The Forest Dwellers
Peaceweaver
Coming soon: The Beaufort Chronicle, a
trilogy tracing the life of Margaret Beaufort.
