Gentle, peace-loving Henry VI had been the undisputed ruler for over thirty-five years and, since he had a legitimate male heir, the future of his dynasty was assured. Though Henry was not a king who was going to be awarded any ‘best king ever’ medals, the vast majority of his subjects still supported him. Yet, despite that, he was thrust violently aside by a young challenger, Edward, Earl of March.
In my view, it was nothing short of miraculous, but how did this seismic political shift happen?
During the 1450s, factional strife at Henry VI’s court had occasionally spilled over into violence. Henry’s ‘court’ faction was led by his queen, Margaret of Anjou, while the opposition centred upon Richard, Duke of York, the senior English nobleman. Though Richard possessed a strong claim to the throne, he had never advanced it. When, in 1460, he finally did, he unleashed a whirlwind known to us as the Wars of the Roses.
The lords’ response to York’s claim was a compromise, the Act of Accord, which decreed that Henry would remain king during his lifetime but, after his death, York and his heirs would succeed him. This rather grubby deal should have been called the Act of Discord because it only sharpened political divisions. It also provided the aggrieved Queen Margaret with a rallying cry which encouraged thousands to flock to her husband’s cause.
By November 1460, York needed to act fast to avoid being swept aside by the burgeoning Lancastrian tide. He rushed north to where the main Lancastrian threat lay. But, as GRR Martin might say, ‘winter was coming’. So, hardly the ideal time to begin a campaign.
Surrounded by hostile forces and short of supplies, York decided – for reasons not clear to us now – to abandon Sandal Castle to meet the Lancastrians in battle. He and his son Edmund were killed, along with many hundreds of his men. There, York’s cause should have perished because I doubt anyone suspected that his eldest son and heir, eighteen-year-old Edward, Earl of March would be king within a few months.
Edward received the grim tidings from the north while raising an army to counter the Lancastrian, Jasper Tudor, advancing from Wales. As he faced imminent oblivion on the battlefield, Edward must have thought his father’s dream of succeeding Henry VI a distant one.
Yet, it would have been clear to him that there could be no rapprochement with the king. While the gentle Henry might have welcomed young Edward and his ally, the Earl of Warwick, back into the fold, Queen Margaret was determined to extinguish any Yorkist threat.
But Edward’s position, though perilous, was not as hopeless as it appeared because, whilst the powerful Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, retained control of London and possession of King Henry himself, Edward could claim to be acting lawfully.
There was, however, still the immediate problem of Jasper Tudor. Since it was in Edward’s nature to fight, he prepared for battle. At dawn on a crisp morning in February 1461, St Blaise’s Day, Edward’s men were arrayed with a river at their back. But soon they beheld a remarkable sight: three suns appearing low in the freezing sky. Today, we know this was a parhelion caused by ice crystals but, to the medieval eye, it must have seemed a terrible and inauspicious omen.
Edward, however, characteristically cool under pressure, immediately turned the strange apparition to his advantage. It was, he claimed boldly, a manifestation of the Holy Trinity in the sky and thus a sign of God’s support for their cause – and God’s favour was very much in demand.
On the battlefield no man could mistake Edward for he was an exceptionally tall, well-built warrior, encased in the finest armour, who wielded a fearsome poleaxe in each hand. The Lancastrian army he faced where two roads met at Mortimer’s Cross in Herefordshire, was a disorderly one. Though the Welshmen fought hard, they were eventually overwhelmed, with many hounded into the nearby river where they drowned or froze to death. Jasper escaped but Edward, no doubt still seething from the death of his father and brother, Edmund, to whom he was especially close, executed Jasper’s father, Owen, along with other captured leaders.
Soon after his victory, Edward learned that Queen Margaret’s army was thundering south towards London, and he waited anxiously for news of Warwick. When the news came, it told of disaster. Warwick had contrived to lose a major battle and, worse still, he had lost King Henry.
For Edward, now a traitor, this was a pivotal moment. If he fled into exile, he would be abandoning his own lands and those of his allies. So, instead, he resolved to seize the throne rather sooner than the Act of Accord had intended.
Warwick is often credited with Edward’s elevation to the throne and awarded the flattering nickname of ‘Kingmaker’. But, if the events of 1461 tell us anything at all about the relationship between the two men, it is that all the dynamism emanated from Edward.
Warwick was certainly a key adviser who possessed enormous resources but, by spring 1461, Warwick’s reputation had been severely dented, while Edward’s had been greatly enhanced. Undaunted by Warwick’s failure, Edward crossed England to enter London in triumph and in early March was acclaimed as king.
Edward, however, was smart enough to know that this show meant nothing as long as most of the nobility remained stubbornly loyal to King Henry. As he marched north to meet his enemies, Edward not only recruited more men, he gained momentum. He was everything that Henry was not: charismatic, prodigiously energetic, immensely self-confident, capable of swift, bold decision making and always a relentless warrior.
Since all the great lords would be there, the next battle would be decisive. At the famously bloody field of Towton, though Edward was devastatingly effective, the outcome was on a knife edge all day. A glorious Lancastrian victory still seemed possible until late reinforcements enabled the Yorkists to hurl back and slaughter their enemies.
Through his sheer force of personality and military prowess, Edward had dragged the Yorkist cause back to its feet and managed to defeat the majority of the English nobility in battle. But, though he sealed his crown at Towton, he was not universally accepted as king. King Henry, Queen Margaret and Edward, Prince of Wales, were still very much alive, giving the Lancastrians a royal figurehead, a passionate champion and a male heir.
So, whilst Edward nominally controlled the kingdom, he could not yet rest easy on his new throne. His few noble allies had supported him in expectation of gaining more lands, wealth and influence. They expected such rewards to be squeezed out of the noble losers. But Edward tried to be even-handed and, while rewarding his supporters, he attempted to build bridges with his opponents. But, though allowing some former enemies retain their lands might help to heal the wounds of war, it also risked causing dissatisfaction among disappointed victors.
Edward, with his charm and good looks, was the perfect image of a king. But, for the vast majority of his subjects, he was still an unknown quantity. There were several urgent matters for him to deal with, one of which was restoring the rule of law. Complaints about disorder had fuelled much of the lawlessness of the 1450s.
In August 1461 Edward went on the road to show himself to his subjects and demonstrate his control by dispensing justice in local areas. His willingness to bury old hostilities helped him gain acceptance from former Lancastrians among ordinary knights and gentry. He progressed through southern England and then north into the Welsh marches before returning to London via the midlands.
In the meantime, he launched a campaign to destroy any remaining Lancastrian power in Wales and the
north. By the mid-1460s, with only a few exceptions, Edward seemed to have gained the support of most of the political classes and, at least for the time being, ruled his kingdom pretty much unchallenged. Henry VI was still alive but safely housed in the Tower of London, while his young heir, disinherited by the Act of Accord, was in exile.
The prosperity of the kingdom depended upon flourishing trade which Edward actively encouraged. Contrary to popular belief, England was not a burning land, laid waste by war. For many English folk, life had gone on as usual and, to put it in perspective, an exceptionally harsh winter or relentless summer rains would have had far greater impact on most communities than the Wars of the Roses.
Edward had another important priority if he was to establish his dynasty. A sudden accident or illness to Edward would plunge the country into chaos once more. So, he must marry – and quickly.
Kings frequently married foreign princesses to forge alliances and receive handsome dowries. Marrying a foreigner also avoided raising up one English noble family to royal status. Well, in 1464 Edward did get married, but it was rather a case of be careful what you wish for.
Since he was serially attracted to women, and it appears that they were equally attracted to him – long before he wielded the power of a king – it should come as no surprise that he married for love. Or, at least, lust.
In short, Edward married the wrong woman – and he knew it – which was why he married her in secret. Wedding a Lancastrian widow, Elizabeth Grey, née Woodville, caused ripples of shock through the court, the country and even as far as the continent. She was not truly of noble birth and brought with her two sons from her previous marriage along with a coachload of Woodville relatives.
To men like Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the king’s marriage was incomprehensible because the bride appeared to bring nothing but problems. The new queen’s family meant more courtiers for whom suitable rewards and spouses would be required. The Woodvilles rather saturated the noble marriage market which was a very limited pool.
The nobleman most affected was Warwick himself, who had no sons but two daughters. As the co-heiresses to his vast inheritance, they must be found suitable husbands. Warwick suggested one might marry a brother of King Edward: George, Duke of Clarence or Richard, Duke of Gloucester. The king flatly refused, much to Warwick’s fury.
Edward’s accession had been achieved largely by his own efforts, but his continued rule depended upon the energy and resources of a few close supporters. Foremost among that happy band was a most unhappy Warwick. Aside from the marriage issue, Warwick felt that his influence over Edward was not as great as he expected.
It was Warwick’s dissatisfaction – and his naked ambition – which brought an abrupt end to Edward’s short period of political stability. Ironic, of course, that a king who brought his enemies into the fold was undone by his greatest ally. That Edward IV weathered, in the end, the rebellious storms orchestrated by Warwick, is only further testament to his abilities and character.
Sandwiched between the spectacularly hapless Henry VI and the ludicrously iconic Richard III, Edward often ignites little interest and even less approval. Viewed by the influential Victorian historians as a licentious glutton, he was branded a political failure. A poor man’s Henry Tudor…
I would contend, however, that Edward IV is one of England’s most underrated kings. No-one expected him to unseat Henry VI and few gave him any chance of surviving Warwick’s machinations. But he confounded them all and died as king in his bed. If he had only lived a few more years, I think the history of England might have been very different indeed and we might have been spared that sociopath, Henry VIII.
Derek Birks is a historian and the author of A Guide to the Wars of the Roses.
