The Battle of Barnet

Martin Reboul

Editor's note: media attention has been focused of late on re-evaluations of the last battle of Richard III's career, Bosworth. The first battle of his career, Barnet, also raises a number of interesting questions.

This article was posted to the newsgroup soc.history.medieval by Martin Reboul and is reprinted here by permission. His opinions of Richard III do not match those of most Ricardians, and some will quarrel with certain characterizations or interpretations of one or another of the dramatis personae. Those members who closely analyze battles and battlefields of the Wars of the Roses, however, may be intrigued by some of the theories he presents here. Mr. Reboul stresses that this is a work in progress containing much speculation and invites comment, either via e-mail or through the newsgroup soc.history.medieval, and it is to stimulate this discussion that the article is presented here.

Mr. Reboul will be providing more comprehensive references and maps at a later date.

1 : The 'Re-Arrivall' of Edward IV

Edward returned to England in force, grimly determined to regain the throne after spending nearly a year in exile. For most of that time, Edward, along with his youngest brother Richard and a few friends, had been the guests of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy. Charles had married Edward's older sister Margaret some years before, and was therefore under some obligation to his brother-in-law. Charles had to finance the invasion, as Edward had left everything behind when he fled, even his heavily pregnant wife Elizabeth. She had given birth in Westminster sanctuary during his absence, and Edward had yet to see his baby son. The departure from England had been so unexpectedly hurried, he had been obliged to pay for hire of a ship with his fur cloak, revealing a serious 'cash flow problem' in the Royal Accounts.

Fortunately for Edward, Duke Charles was bitterly opposed to the man who had effectively forced him out of England, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. Warwick and Duke Charles had taken an instant personal dislike to each other at their first meeting many years before, and been enemies ever since. Warwick was also on very friendly terms with King Louis XI of France, to the point of offering Louis military support in the form of archers for use in the long running feud between France and Burgundy - a very serious threat to Duke Charles indeed.

Charles was put in an awkward spot even so. He outwardly supported the Lancastrian cause, and was already harbouring the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset and other prominent Lancastrians when Edward arrived, causing him no little inconvenience and embarrassment. Nevertheless, he welcomed them to stay at his court, no doubt seeing an excellent opportunity to use them to disrupt or destroy Warwick, and provide a good excuse to dump many expensive house guests into the bargain. Exeter and Somerset had duly been sent back to England well before Edward's invasion, after solemnly promising Charles to do their utmost to undermine Warwick. Warwick reluctantly had to welcome these two bitter personal enemies back into England, as he was now officially a Lancastrian.

Now, after months of preparation and secret correspondence with prospective allies in England, drumming up support and smoothing the way, the time had come to send his Yorkist guests home too. At great expense, the Duke provided Edward with a fleet of ships, horses, equipment and extensive mercenary support, including the latest hi-tech Burgundian hand gunners (who didn't come cheap!).

At the start Edward's venture seemed ill-starred. The planned invasion nearly ended in disaster before he even landed, as a storm sank a ship full of valuable horses and scattered the rest of his fleet in the North Sea. Their reception on the east coast was unexpectedly hostile, and Edward was forced to give up any hopes of landing in East Anglia, when local forces loyal to the Earl of Oxford prepared to attack his scouts. He sailed north, and eventually managed to disembark safely at Ravenspur, a small port on the mouth of the Humber estuary, long since washed away into the North Sea. After landing his battered forces and re-grouping, Edward continued to receive a rather unenthusiastic response from the locals. Most refused to join him, and some were actively hostile. Towns closed their gates and refused him entry, and the substantial support he hoped to get from Henry Percy in Northumberland failed to materialise. He vacillated and made unlikely excuses to avoid joining Edward, despite the fact that Edward had returned him the Percy estates and restored to him the title of Earl of Northumberland (still in the possession of the Percy family to this day). It must have been a bitter blow to Edward, for he had taken the coveted title away from his former friend and loyal supporter John Neville, deeply insulting and offending him by doing so. The very reason Edward had been forced to flee from England had been the aggrieved John Neville's sudden and unexpected defection, to side with his brother Richard, Earl of Warwick.

Percy, still holding the Northumberland title, promised only to stay neutral - better than nothing, for the Percies were Lancastrian supporters by tradition. It says little for Henry Percy that he failed to actively support either side in the campaign. He sat back to wait and see what happened, no doubt hoping to ingratiate himself with the eventual victor without taking any risks. Although he managed to hold on to the Northumberland title, his weakness was noted, and Henry Percy paid dearly for his timidity in the end. He was killed while collecting taxes some years later, neither respected nor feared even by his own tenants.

Deciding on a more cautious and clandestine approach, Edward proclaimed that he had no intention of re-taking the throne, having returned only to claim his rightful inheritance, the Dukedom of York. The City of York was prepared to believe him, and opened the gates on condition he swore a solemn oath that this was indeed his purpose, which Edward duly did. To persuade the citizens of York of his intentions, he even sported the red and black colours and ostrich feathers of Prince Edward of Lancaster, son of King Henry VI, parading outside the walls with cries of allegiance to "King Harry", accompanied by his brother Richard.

Edward was never too bothered about keeping such oaths of course, as many discovered to their cost after accepting his carefully worded and worthless pardons. Messages were dispatched by courier to potential allies throughout the land, and as support began to roll in his confidence grew. Edward soon marched south, hoping to deal with Warwick and the other prominent Lancastrians before they could join forces and form an overwhelmingly large army. He bypassed Marquess Montagu, John Neville, who had a force of unknown size at Pontefract. Montagu failed to engage or pursue, for reasons unknown. Meanwhile Warwick was in the Midlands, also desperately trying to raise support. This campaign took place long before there was a standing army for the Crown to use, and armies had to be raised as and when needed by marching on recruitment drives, and sending out Commissions of Array, orders, urgent requests, and pleas for help. One of these survives, with a touching postscript from Warwick himself, the writing showing obvious signs of strain and great urgency (see pic). It was sent to Henry Vernon, a minor landowner and gentleman who could raise a small force of armed tenants - the essential bread and butter forming the bulk of English armies in the 15th Century. The support of such men was vital but not always easy to obtain. Although on first name terms with Warwick, Vernon seems to have ignored his request, as well as orders and requests from Clarence and Edward to join them.

Warwick was no doubt very dubious about the loyalty of his fickle son-in-law George, Duke of Clarence, Edward's treacherous and untrustworthy brother. Clarence sent assurances that he was on his way with a large force, as indeed he was. He failed to mention he was on his way to join Edward, however. As mentioned before, his defection had been arranged well in advance by correspondence, while Edward languished in Burgundy. That explains how Clarence managed to have so many troops ready for battle (some 7000 according to Warkworth), when the rest of England seems to have been caught on the hop. After an uncomfortable but successful reunion with brothers Edward and Richard, Clarence's men hurriedly covered up their Lancastrian "SS" collars. Some might well say that was a very appropriate symbol for the treacherous, ruthless, and murderous Duke with hindsight. It appears that their hasty needlework was not of a very high standard, for their poorly concealed collars were noticed and remarked upon later.

Suddenly faced with Edward's greatly enlarged force, Warwick quickly went onto the defensive and refused to be drawn. He took refuge in Coventry with around 4000 men, one of the most securely walled cities in England at the time, and wisely turned down Edward's challenges to meet him in battle. He also scorned his promises and offers of pardon, well aware that Edward's pardons often came with strings attached, such as failure to mention summary execution following shortly after acceptance! Warwick seems to have been quite rattled by the defection of Clarence (always so predictably untrustworthy and treacherous), though it is difficult to believe he was that surprised, considering his own extensive personal experience of betrayal and being betrayed.

Not a patient man, and never one to endure the tedium of sieges (having always delegated such work to others in the past), Edward and his army suddenly departed and marched south, having even failed to provoke his cousin by occupying Warwick Castle itself. The confidence of the Kingmaker was at a low ebb, probably not a bad thing from his point of view, as it made him unusually cautious when he followed Edward. After inconclusive skirmishes with the forces of Oxford and Exeter, who both rapidly withdrew, Edward found himself welcomed into London on April 10th by Warwick's youngest brother, another shifty George, the Archbishop of York. George Neville took the precaution of obtaining a full pardon first, his agile mind no doubt thoroughly checking the small print before delivering the City, Tower, and the hapless King Henry VI without any resistance. To be fair, although George Neville's actions appear treacherous and underhand, he was in a very difficult position indeed. The population of London were traditionally Yorkist, and all his attempts to drum up support for the ailing and discredited King Henry had met with a dismal lack of enthusiasm. Like everyone else in 15th century England, he had to consider his own neck when the chips were down.

As King Henry greeted Edward, with genuine fondness it seems, he said with relief, "I know, dear cousin, that my life is safe in your hands...." or words to that effect. Poor Henry, the simple old soul no doubt much preferred the idea of comfortable imprisonment with his books and prayers to another spell as a fugitive on the run. His trust that he would be safe shows once again how pitifully inadequate he was to cope with fifteenth century politics, or the job of being King.

2 : Good Friday, Busy Saturday

Warwick waited uneasily within the walls of Coventry after Edward's sudden departure. Only after Oxford, Montagu, and Exeter had joined him was he satisfied that their combined strength was enough to face his former pupil in battle. They followed Edward south, an army of between 10,000 and 20,000 men, with a large and well provisioned artillery train. It is very difficult to gauge the size of this force accurately, as no estimation of their fully assembled number was recorded by any independent observer. In fact the true number has been concealed and confused by chroniclers both biased towards the Lancastrians and against them, who boosted or diminished the figures for various reasons. As an example, "The Arrivall" declares that the Yorkists were vastly outnumbered (only 9,000 against 30,000) in order to magnify Edward's achievement. This is clearly absurd, as Warwick would certainly have won with 3:1 odds in his favour and Edward would never have willingly taken the field at such a disadvantage. The chronicler Warkworth however, though mildly Lancastrian in sympathy, extended the odds even further in Warwick's favour, stating that Warwick had more than 30,000 men - probably to show the popularity of his cause! On the whole, contemporary chroniclers tend to avoid the question, but the majority seem to have said that the Lancastrian army was larger (Holinshed, with lost accounts of the battle to refer to, adds "..though others affirm the contrary.") Generally speaking therefore, all these estimates should be considered unreliable, and the best that can be done to estimate the approximate size of the Lancastrian force is to add up the probable numbers of men each of the individual lords and gentlemen brought with them. The Lancastrian army marched into long suffering St.Albans (after two battles there during the last few years, it is unlikely that there was much left to pillage in the town, even if it were allowed), and camped just outside on the night of Good Friday. The next morning they marched a few miles down the Great North Road towards London, and halted at Gladsmuir Heath, just north of Barnet.

Here Warwick decided to make his stand. He had plenty of time and daylight to choose his ground carefully, and he chose well. Once the best position was decided, the rest of the day was spent setting up camp and preparing for battle. The formidable Lancastrian artillery array was carefully deployed, probably centered around Old Fold Manor, using the moat around the house as part of their defence. The majority of the guns were trained and ranged on the Great North Road leading north out of Barnet - the only convenient route Edward could take to approach. (see map no.1?) With the guns set up in front of the line (15th century soldiers usually keept well clear of artillery), the infantry were deployed across the plateau that Monken Hadley is situated on, about half a mile north of High Barnet as it is known today.

"High" is a very good description. The ground rises rapidly from the plain of London to the south, a huge mound of boulder clay once pushed before a glacier that ended near Potters Bar during the last ice age. Strange though it may seem, a fragile link thus associates the outcome of the battle of Barnet with prehistoric glacial movement, as the waterlogged boulder clay of this high ground, still covered in ponds and bogs which are shown on the earliest maps available, indirectly caused one of the earliest recorded 'friendly fire situations' (to use the rather revolting terminology of the late 20th Century).

A full analysis of the initial positions of the two forces, together with early maps of the battlefield and details of the geology of the area, are included in Appendix 1.

At first glance it may appear that Warwick, considering his extensive military experience, chose a rather odd position. A quick look at the terrain shows even the most amateur "table top General" that Barnet itself would have been the perfect place to array his force. With his heavy artillery dominating the only approach, Edward's army would surely have been decimated as it laboured up the steep hill. That is the reason that Warwick did not take up that position however.

Used as we are nowadays to the idea of street fighting and all out mobile warfare, it seems absurd he chose to position his army in a place that allowed the enemy plenty of room to form up and attack. The Earl of Warwick knew exactly what he was doing of course, and knew his enemy well too. Edward, no matter how keen to lock horns, would never suicidally attack such an impregnable position. Warwick was also acutely aware that time was running short, for armies in those days were liable to melt away quickly, especially if they were getting hungry and saw no prospect of pillaging ahead. He had to tempt Edward to battle immediately. That was the way things were done. Edward could stay comfortably in well provisioned London if he wished, gathering strength all the time as support rolled in (which it was, as his army growing hour by hour at this time). Warwick therefore gave him a chance to engage by choosing a convenient spot for a battle and waiting. There was great pressure on Warwick to engage as soon as possible for other reasons. His force, already demoralized by uncertainty and suspicion, were in great danger of breaking up if faced with any more delay. Some sections had already been forced to retreat in disarray in the last few days of the campaign and the situation was now critical. In another day or two confidence would evaporate and the men would be off home.... or off to join the other side.

Warwick banked on the hot-headed and aggressive Edward soon responding, suspecting he would be unable to resist the opportunity to engage. He was right. A more relaxed and thoughtful commander may well have waited safely behind the walls of London until the Lancastrians just melted away. But not Edward - he wanted bloody revenge, and he wanted it now. And Warwick seems to have had a more subtle, tactical reason to tempt him as well.. Formal letters of challenge arranging the date, time, and place to fight were unnecessary (although such written challenges did occur, notably before Flodden in 1513). That is not to say that ambushes, nasty surprises and devious concealments were 'not allowed' - such things happened fairly often. Even so, a certain amount of convention still existed when fighting in those days, as well as an unwillingness to abandon tried and tested methods or formations, even amongst the most far sighted and enlightened commanders. Looking back at what happened, it seems likely that Warwick planned to use his superior artillery to soften up or even destroy Edward before he had a chance to array for battle.

Edward marched from London as soon as he could after receiving reports of Warwick's position, and the Yorkist army approached High Barnet as dusk was falling. To sidetrack for a moment, there is a detail about the dates and times of year of all battles fought in Britain before 1752 (all save the battle of Britain in fact!), which is seldom mentioned. In 1752 the calendar was adjusted to the Gregorian system we use today. The Julian calendar used before that date took no account of the 11 minutes and 4 seconds difference between the solar year and the calendar year. Not a lot, true, but it meant that the calendar date had gradually moved out of step with the sun and the seasons, and this was becoming quite apparent by the 15th century, as the thousands of 11 minute 'extra bits' added up to 11 days or so. Effectively, April 14th 1471 was seasonally like April 25th is today. In other words, the sun set a bit later, rose earlier, and perhaps the weather was a bit warmer - although the English weather seems to have been just as unpredictable then as it is today.

As another intriguing distraction, it would also affect the traditional anniversaries of battles and events that ghost hunters might well think about. After long watches on windswept battlefields, or stakeouts at murder scenes and so on, do they go home disappointed 11 days before the "event" perhaps? Or maybe ghosts still keep an eye on the current calendar date when organising their appearances?

Edward left London in the late afternoon, at about 4 p.m. (1), allowing some four or five hours of daylight to cover the twelve mile journey. The best estimate of their number was made by Gerhard von Wesel, an experienced German military man who was in London on a trade mission, and the only independent observer who saw the battle and left an account of it. There is no reason to question his estimate of 12,000 plus. The timing also seems correct, as we know they carried artillery up the steep hill to Barnet. Edward's advance guard, a sizeable light cavalry force, briefly skirmished with some of Warwick's scouts in Hornsey park. They were quickly chased off, and headed north towards Barnet to tell Warwick that Edward was on his way. The Yorkist advance party reached Barnet well before the rest of the army, and found the town lightly defended. The small Lancastrian force stationed there put up no significant resistance and were soon dislodged, probably having been instructed to do so. They headed up the Great North Road, hotly pursued by Edward's fore-riders. About half a mile to the north, at a point somewhere just to the south of Dury road, they encountered a large body of Warwick's men "by an hedgesyde"(2). This is one of the few clues that helps to place the Lancastrian forces on the field. Edward's men quickly turned back rather than face a hail of arrows, and raced back down the North Road to report back.

This incident has led to some odd ideas about the exact place where the battle was fought, which are fully discussed in Appendix 1. The speedy withdrawal of Warwick's men from Barnet, considering what happened next, may well have been part of an attempt to lead the Yorkists into a trap - an early use of the 'killing zone'. This is a technique often used in modern defensive positions to destroy or break up tank and infantry attacks, by leading, encouraging, or forcing the enemy into an area covered by hidden artillery, mines and mortars. Warwick's substantial artillery train was covering the North Road, which was and still is the only easy route north out of Barnet.

Warwick now knew Edward was getting close, and there was even a possibility of battle being joined that very evening. He ordered the guns to be loaded and all men to their battle stations. It may be at this moment that Warwick made the traditional commanders' speech to his troops, if he had not already done so. His actual words were not reliably recorded, although some chroniclers have embellished lost early versions with their own ideas (3). Carrying on that tradition, it is not difficult to guess at the contents of his speech, knowing Warwick's character and the position he was in. He wasn't afraid to admit making errors of judgement (when it suited his purpose), and perhaps part of his charm and persuasiveness when speaking in public was due to this unusual 'honesty'. That is not to say that Warwick would cheerfully eat humble pie however - he did have his carefully tended image to consider - 15th century troops would not have been encouraged by humility and self-effacement on the part of their leader.

He probably apologised for letting himself be deceived by the treacherous Edward and turning his back on the "truly anointed king Harry", followed by a list of Edward's more obvious faults, doubtless mentioning the highly unpopular Woodvilles. He almost certainly mentioned the current position of those with him on the field, and the vital importance of sticking together and putting aside differences or quarrels remaining from years past. He would have appealed to the men's pride, emphasizing that they were superior in skill, experience and number to their opponents, and emphasised that they were fighting for a better cause, legally, historically, and ethically (whether he believed it himself or not). Perhaps he then followed up with vague promises of good things to come and so on - not unlike any modern politician. He could even have made a show of backslapping unity with Oxford and Exeter, with a ghastly attempt at cheerfulness from the three, and maybe his brother Lord Montagu joined them as well....

That is pure speculation, of course, but it would have been a typical "Warwick gesture", clever as he was at publicity and propaganda. Whatever he said it seems to have had the desired effect - unifying his force. This most uncomfortable alliance of old and bitter enemies performed very well together in the event, all considered.

Edward's army had to climb Barnet hill at the end of their march, a formidable obstacle in those days. Even today it would be no easy task to ascend the slope in heavy armour, dragging guns and heavy equipment, but in 1471 there was no earth ramp to level the gradient, no tarmac road, and no bus service! This stretch of road was notoriously bad - treacherously icy in winter, and, according to fines imposed and complaints to the Abbot of St. Albans, frequently blocked with rubbish at the top of the hill. Ice would not have troubled the Yorkist army however, cursing the heat and dust as they laboured up the steep incline with all their heavy gear on the warm Spring evening.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached the top, and it was obviously too late for a battle that evening. The sun set at about ten past seven, and within an hour it would have been almost completely dark. Edward wisely ordered his troops to keep moving, unwilling to let them stay in Barnet. It is a fair assumption that the taverns were shut and stoutly boarded up, and the whole town looked deserted. Despite the excellent discipline that both he and Warwick usually maintained, towns in the immediate proximity of a 15th century battle were not a good place to be, particularly when the only main road ran through them. Any bold inhabitants who did remain would have battened down the hatches, probably praying the Yorkists would win and the chase would be northward, away from Barnet. If the Lancastrians won there would be a ghastly Yorkist retreat through the town in disarray, followed by hordes of bloodthirsty and beerthirsty Lancastrians intent on pillaging and plundering anything in their path.

So Edward's troops marched through the town, no doubt looking wistfully at the profusion of tavern and inn signs and licking their lips at the thought of the cellars full of drink, unattended, and so close. After trudging up the steep hill on a very warm afternoon it must have been agonising, but Edward was insistent. He appreciated that his soldiers would perform better in the morning without having spent the night quaffing free drink, since he liked a drop himself (to say the least!), and must have been very familiar with the debilitating effects of a hangover. Since this could well be their last night (as indeed it was to be for many of them), the likelihood that they would be tempted to over indulge and not feel quite so keen to display their martial skills first thing next morning was one good reason that Edward attempted an ambitious and very difficult deployment in the dark.

It has often been said that Edward boldly arrayed his army to the north of Barnet in a cunning and brilliant manoeuvre intended to outwit his highly dangerous foe. That is possible, but there are more likely reasons for his move, the temptations in Barnet being only one. Neither side seems to have had much idea of the position of the other on the field, which meant that by the time the Yorkists had passed through Barnet and spread out east and west across the Great North road in "three battle" formation, visibility was almost nil. Young Richard, Duke of Gloucester, in his first command, was extended hundreds of yards too far to the East, unaware that there was no enemy to his front, just a muddy bog. On the left, Lord Hastings had no idea he was outflanked by the Earl of Oxfords' formidable force, including heavy cavalry. Edward centered his army on the eastern side of the Great North Road, something he certainly would not have done on purpose. He was also recklessly close to the Lancastrian line, which actually saved him from destruction during the night, though more probably because of luck than by clever design.

Warwick ordered his artillery to open fire, shooting blindly into the darkness and trained on the approaches to the south. Edward may have taken a few losses as he hurriedly deployed his force, and ordered them forward in silence, showing no lights. Edward also told his gunners to hold their fire so as not to give away the Yorkist position. The Lancastrian guns continued to fire, their shot now falling behind the enemy. Few of the Yorkist troops could have had much sleep that night, hearing shot whistling overhead and wondering if and when Warwick would discover their actual position and shorten the range. It must have been a very unpleasant night 'under the guns ', in full harness, anticipating the dawn and what it might bring. Warkworth said the Lancastrian guns fired all night, and the Yorkist artillery hardly replied. In view of his position, Edward may have arranged for some of his guns to open fire from positions well to the rear of his army, specifically intending to draw enemy fire and encourage them to continue overshooting. There is no mention of this anywhere, but it would have been a good idea, and Edward was never short of those - not on the battlefield anyway. It would also have helped to cover the noise of his force as they deployed, as armoured men make an incredible racket when moving, however carefully they try to keep quiet.

3 : The Fog of War. a Greate Myste

The air temperature dropped quickly after dark, and moisture that had evaporated from the wet clay of Gladsmuir Heath during the day condensed into a thick mist. Gladsmuir means "grey moor" in Old English, which may well come from the heavy mists which still occur there to this very day. However, during the night before the battle the 'myste' developed into something rarely seen in Britain until the Industrial Revolution. Smoke and shockwaves from Warwick's thundering artillery caused water vapour in the air to condense around microscopic particles of partially burnt carbon and sulphur, the residue of exploding gunpowder, and produced a thick chemical fog, so that when morning broke an unusually dense "pea souper" enveloped the battlefield.

Detail, The Battle of Barnet, by Martin Reboul

Fanciful attempts to blame the strange mist on a sorcerer (working for Edward) are sadly a myth. A certain Friar Bungay (specifically accused by Halle) was supposed to have been responsible, using sorcery to raise the mist and being paid for his sinister work handsomely. But Friar Bungay had been dead for many centuries by 1471 (unless he really did have astonishing powers!), having been a contemporary of Roger Bacon, centuries before the battle of Barnet. This link with the alleged inventor of gunpowder is intriguing, even so - perhaps more than just a coincidence? Whatever, when dawn broke, Edward was certainly as irritated and dismayed by the poor visibility as his opponent, as a clear view of banners and troop positions was vital to take effective command in battle at the time. If anybody was responsible for the mist, it was the Earl of Warwick and his enthusiastic use of gunpowder.

The Sun rose at about five o clock on Easter Sunday 1471. Although there has been debate about the time the battle actually started, it would not have concerned the men who took part - they had other things on their mind, and nobody was looking at their watch! Observation of misty dawns on the battlefield indicate that it would probably have been well after five o clock before visibility was good enough for battle to commence, although both sides would have been in harness and ready for action well before first light, if not throughout the night. Even then, as the sun began to lighten the eastern sky, little was visible on Gladsmuir Heath. The "moste thicke myst" that had concealed Edward's night manoeuvres now hid everything. Although nervous soldiers on both sides could hear the enemy somewhere in front of them, they were invisible - as were most of their friends, only a few yards away. A frightening prospect, indeed.

In the damp and chilly dawn they prepared for battle, checking and loading weapons, donning helmets and gauntlets, and warming up stiff muscles with practice swings. Their sense of well being was improved by the hasty blessings and automatically mumbled absolutions received from the (sometimes) dubious priests who accompanied 15th century armies - many were prepared to die that day. Whether their souls were received into Heaven in a State of Grace is unknown. They were probably also cheered by a final drink and whatever cold food they had with them, if they had the stomach for it. Warwick surveyed the Lancastrian position with unease. In view of his military and political position he had probably slept little, if at all during the last few days. He was greeted by his household men and fellow commanders, many of whom were also worried about what the day held in store. It was reported by Phillipe de Commynes that an anxious John Neville took his brother Warwick aside and told him he was greatly concerned about their troops. Rumours of possible betrayals within the alliance were shaking their confidence badly. He suggested that the best way to boost the confidence of their men and demonstrate the Neville's' absolute dedication to the cause of Lancaster, was for the pair of them to fight on foot. Considering the situation, that probably would have been the mood in the ranks, and Warwick realised his brother was right. Knowing only too well it meant he would have little chance of escape if things went wrong, Richard Neville abandoned his horse and sent him to the rear. As Warwick's charger was led away he must have thought once again how crucial this battle was going to be for him personally. It was a noble gesture and a brave act indeed, whether at Montagu's suggestion or not.

With another rousing speech, probably along a "with you to the end lads!" theme, he no doubt raised a mighty cheer as he joined the ranks of his household men on foot. Such a speech probably suited his mood anyway, for he had now burnt all his bridges, having even discarded any hope of taking refuge in France if he failed - King Louis XI, Warwick's friend and ally for so many years, had just betrayed him by signing a truce with Duke Charles of Burgundy out of the blue. That had effectively allowed Edward to return to England with Burgundian support, and the letter Warwick sent to Louis in his fury was a bit rude to say the least, certainly not the way to speak to any King, particularly a Medieval French King - even from a Kingmaker!* Lord Montagu was said to have been almost suicidal that morning, caring little whether he lived or died. Both brothers finally realised that any hope of happiness or success in the future depended on the next few hours - they had to win the battle of Barnet. This time it was all or nothing, victory or death.

On the other side, Edward seems to have been in high and angry spirits. He would probably have addressed his troops with a fiery denouncement of the traitors and villains they faced only two or three hundred yards away in the mist. His men were well motivated, with scores to settle and the prospect of claiming great rewards if Edward won the day with their help. Warwick had detained several Lords who now accompanied Edward, amongst them the Duke of Norfolk (John Mowbray), the Earl of Essex (Henry Bourchier), and the Lords' Cromwell and Mountjoy. They now stood with their men at Edwards' side, having been released from the Tower by the treacherous failure of George Neville, left in charge of London. The rewards and positions that Warwick had allowed them during his brief period in power had not been enough to gain their support. He would have been wiser to execute them.

The actual details of Edward's speech are of course also a matter for speculation and supposition, though it is easy enough to guess the points he would have raised. Apart from derision about Warwick's military achievements and his treacherous return to the pathetic Henry VI and his cronies (and did his beady eye perhaps fix itself on Clarence for an uncomfortable moment as he mentioned this, while his fickle brother awkwardly pretended to be distracted and looked innocently away?). He almost certainly mentioned the wicked Margaret of Anjou, the likely illegitimacy of Henry's son Edward, Prince of Lancaster, (a rather likely rumour actually started by Warwick) and the turmoil and injustice their regime had caused in England previously, and the loss of France. Maybe he mentioned that they were now supported by the French (bound to raise a good response of boos, catcalls, and rumbles of outraged indignation).

Edward had so much ammunition, he probably didn't know where to start. Not renowned for eloquent speech making, he probably kept it short and pretty bluff, inflamed with indignant anger and self-righteousness. For the first and only time during the Wars of the Roses he didn't order mercy to be shown to any man on the other side, even the common soldiers, and may have gone further and ordered no quarter. This was to cost him very dear, and helped to make Barnet one of the hardest fought battles of the century, with an extremely high casualty rate. A tactful and sincere offer of mercy and free pardon to the opposition may well have broken the fragile alliance, provoking a mass desertion of old Yorkist troops and could have prevented a battle altogether. But Edward was not in the mood. Impulsive as ever, his blood was up - only violent revenge was going to satisfy him, whatever the consequences or the risk.

The Lancastrian guns ceased fire when dawn broke, as the gunners and the rest of the army tried to get some idea of what the enemy were up to and where they were. Whether the actual range of the Yorkist line was finally discovered is unknown, but it seems likely that neither side ever really knew much until they actually saw each other. Battle commenced with the usual artillery exchange, and Edward's guns were probably ranged more accurately, since the Yorkist gunners probably had some idea of the enemy position from observing gunflashes and fall of shot. Archers would have been unwilling to waste their precious stock of arrows against unseen targets, and crossbowmen and hand gunners were very unlikely to have fired blind, every shot being precious because of the time it took them to reload.

Whether Warwick's hastily re-aimed guns began to take a toll in the Yorkist ranks or may have looked likely to do so soon, Edward decided to take the initiative and attack. His aggression and martial zeal alone made him eager to get to grips with the enemy, but he may well have been galled into action by enemy gunfire. His own guns, smaller in number as well as calibre, seem to have had little impact. Once the first few rounds were exchanged everyone suddenly realised how horribly close the two armies were. Edward signaled "Advance Banner!" - the order to attack.

In the fog, the signal was passed down the line by trumpet call, and the Yorkists surged forward with great gusto, shouting "Á Edward!". This sort of battle cry, often recorded, probably became traditional during the Hundred Years War, indicating to the terrified French (in French, very considerately) exactly who their enemies were, and who they were working for. This cry was a familiar feature throughout the Wars of the Roses, and was heard for many years afterwards - please note, those who accuse the English of not bothering to learn foreign languages!

From the "off", it probably took less than a minute for the first dim shapes of enemy men at arms to appear from the fog. It must have been a dreadfully tense and very long minute for the Lancastrians, who stood firm nonetheless as the war cries and clanking armour got louder and closer, and they braced themselves to receive the charge, shouting back their defiance. On Warwick's right flank, with favourable ground ahead of him, the Earl of Oxford decided to stay on his horse unlike his fellow commanders. Outflanking his opponent Lord Hastings, his heavy cavalry smashed into the side of the Yorkist rearward battle, somewhere just to the southwest of where the Golf Club is today. Hasting's men, obviously not expecting such a ferocious onslaught, broke almost immediately and retreated in disarray down the Great North Road towards Barnet. Oxford's men slaughtered many in the pursuit, and as so often happened in those days, gleefully chased their enemies right off the field. As a result, Edward managed to reinforce his shattered left flank with reserves. Fortunately for him, the complete collapse and rout of his left wing was concealed from the rest of his army by the fog, and failed to demoralise or unnerve them unduly.

Meanwhile, on the eastern side of the field, young Richard of Gloucester had also signaled 'advance banner', and moved forward. However, his men were quickly disconcerted and confused as they found the ground dropping away rapidly and their feet sinking into boggy ground. As they tramped determinedly onwards, the clash of steel and noise of battle could be heard to the west. They struggled on uneasily for a short while, but still made no contact with the enemy. Richard called a halt and listened. The sound of battle was now almost to his rear, so he decided to head his force towards the noise of fighting. With an admirable feat of generalship for one in his first real command, he turned his men around and trudged westward until they found themselves climbing uphill onto firmer ground as the sound of battle came closer. Surging out of the marsh, they surprised Exeter's flank guard and attacked them from the side and probably behind, surprising them completely.

The seemingly excellent position Warwick chose to protect and anchor his left flank, relied on this treacherous swampy ground which nobody in their right mind would ever normally have attempted to lead an army through. Exeter's men may have been a little over confident of their safety, quickly crumbled, then fell back in the face of Gloucester's unexpected attack. The sudden arrival of Gloucester's force also caused panic and suspicion in the Duke of Exeter as well as his men, highly suspicious of Warwick and Montagu as he was. The entire Lancastrian rearward flank (on the eastern side of the battlefield) began falling back in disorder toward the northwest.. Visitors to the battlefield can relive this sticky moment today, though without a hail of arrows and gunfire from the cricket pitch. The area is still very boggy despite modern drainage and a covering of trees (which were probably absent in 1471). Visit at your peril; it is immediately to the east of Hadley Green.

Warwick quickly sent substantial reinforcements from his reserve, anxious to reassure the temperamental, untrusting Exeter that he had not been betrayed. It saved the situation as Gloucester was soon stopped, his men weary after their swift advance following the climb out of the marsh. The Lancastrians then slowly started to push them back in a welter of swinging poleaxes, bills, hammers and swords.

In the centre, Montagu and Warwick were up against the best of Edward's soldiers. After giving some ground to accommodate the reinforced rearward flank, the lines stabilized, and then began the grim, exhausting slogging match the battle of Barnet was to be. Many of the archers, having fired blind in the early stages and still hampered by poor visibility, gave up their bows and advanced to the front wielding hand weapons. Crossbowmen and hand gunners stayed back, picking at targets of opportunity in the enemy ranks or firing at their opposite numbers behind the enemy lines. The effort of swinging battleaxes and war hammers in full or even partial armour is enormous. A system must have existed to relieve men at the forefront of the fighting every few minutes or so, as even the very fittest could not realistically have fought continuously for much longer than ten minutes or so.

Frustratingly, there are no surviving records of details such as how deep the line was or exactly how troops were organised at the battle of Barnet. The first 'military manual' describing such things was printed in Burgundy (for Duke Charles) some years later, and recommends quite a complicated structure of multiple lines with facilities for mopping up breakthroughs

At Barnet things were probably much simpler. Knowing the approximate size of the two armies and their likely deployment, it can be assumed the lines were between five and ten men deep over the whole front. If any military drill was used, no details of it have survived. Most men at the front would have wielded a pole weapon, the majority likely to have been bills. It doesn't seem as if any 'standard drill' was adhered to, though routines for close quarter combat with spear and bill would have been practised by units organised from towns and villages. They stood side by side in battle if possible, closely supervised by their local lord or 'gent' and his henxmen (a splendid old word replaced by "henchmen" today, though without the modern implication of thuggery). Once battle was joined, it was a question of slogging away to the bitter end, which is why morale, confidence, and the steadying influence of veterans and valiant commanders were so important in deciding the day. Apart from sending in reserves to reinforce weakpoints in the line, the commanders could do little to affect the eventual outcome, apart from setting a good example by their own personal courage.

The artillery pieces that were arrayed across Warwick's front played no further part in the battle after the two sides met, it being impossible to hit the enemy alone. The guns probably fired their last rounds of "grapeshot" or sharp lumps of flint when the charging Yorkists appeared from the fog, at point blank range. After that, the battle was over as far as they were concerned. Edward's guns were left way behind in the mist, and although on a clear day they may have been able to hit Warwick's reserve formations, they were of no use in such poor visibility. Warwick soon received news from the vaward flank which must have cheered him considerably. Oxford had outflanked Hastings and delivered a crushing blow, routing the Yorkist left. Most of Hastings men had broken and run without putting up any significant resistance. Edward must have sent a considerable portion of his reserve to save the situation, though probably not on such a scale as Warwick had on the other side of the field.

Warwick was unlucky on two counts - firstly, the mist concealed the rout of Hastings from the rest of Edwards' army, secondly, Oxford's men pursued their beaten foes all the way to Barnet and had at this point effectively left the field. Oxford, who should have known better, seems to have led the chase. Although his men inflicted heavy casualties on the fleeing Yorkists (some of whom found horses and soon arrived in London with tales of disaster), they were already beaten. He should have stayed to keep up the pressure on Edward's centre. He should perhaps be forgiven for this, however, as in all his 29 years, he and his family had lost time after time to the Yorkists, and his father had been barbarically executed by order of Edward's evil "J.P.", John Tiptoft (a.k.a. "The Butcher of England"). This was his first chance for revenge.... though not his last (see Epilogue).

Besides, in such poor visibility it was very hard to know what was going on at all. His men gave up the chase at Barnet and turned to the more financially rewarding business (normally the top priority of medieval soldiers) of looting the town. Oxford then remembered his duty, and sent a messenger to Warwick with the good tidings. After the initial confusion and Exeter's panic stricken request for help, Warwick realised that although he had been forced to commit the bulk of his reserve, the line was holding and the situation was stable for the time being. Now he had an unexpected trump card to play too, for if Oxford returned with even a small force and hit Edward hard in the rear, the Yorkist army would almost certainly be finished. Warwick sent a courier to find Oxford with a message to gather his men and return to the field and do just that. It probably also informed him that things were not too desperate and told him to gather a sizeable force together and hit Edward as hard as he could from behind, rather than drift back in dribs and drabs. Whether ordered to or not, this is what Oxford did, as he spent two or three hours collecting up his men, now merrily pillaging and plundering Barnet in the age old tradition of victorious English soldiers. As Barnet was (and still is) well served with taverns and inns (being effectively on the "medieval M1"), they would have been in high spirits indeed, in an age when breakfast time drinking was encouraged for adults and children alike.

Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, Edward was starting to feel the pressure of re-organised Lancastrian might. Whether he was heavily outnumbered as some sources claim, or his hastily assembled troops were inferior to Warwick and Montague's veterans, the Lancastrians started to push uncomfortably hard (4), and inch by inch the Yorkist line began to give ground.

At this grim moment Edward came into his own, and arguably had his finest hour. In 'The Arrivall' there is a unique account of a real fifteenth century hero in battle. With a little imagination the impressive sight of Edward's gigantic armoured frame mounted on a great white charger can be pictured. 'The Arrivall' puts it thus.....

"(Edward).. manly, vigorously and valiantly assailed them with great violence and beat and bore down afore him all that stood in his way". Edward led an elite force of heavy cavalry, numbering only a few hundred or so, probably including Clarence (under close surveillance) and his brother-in-law, Anthony Woodville. Again and again he led them into the heart of the fighting, rallying his troops and stopping the Lancastrians from breaking through the hard pressed Yorkist line. And led meant just that - Edward was at the very front, at great personal risk. On the vaward flank, Richard of Gloucester was running into trouble however. Exeter and his remaining men, now reinforced with crack troops from Warwick's reserve, slowly advanced across the ground they had taken in the first few minutes of the battle. He steadfastly refused to ask for help from Edward however, aware that his brother was hard pressed himself. Pride in the first ever command entrusted to him, combined with his foolhardy yet courageous determination, resolved Richard to show his beloved brother that he could do the job without help. It appears that two of his squires were killed fighting alongside the young Duke, clearly showing how ferocious the fighting was at this time.

Meanwhile, half a mile to the south, Oxford had gathered a substantial force, almost a thousand men. With the DeVere battle standard at the front, they headed in column towards the sound of fighting. Visibility was still very poor, and they followed the Great North Road. Had the positions not changed so dramatically, this would have led them up behind Edward's centre, but Warwick and Montagu had pushed the Yorkist line back across the Great North road, which Oxford was unaware of. He advanced cautiously and his men peered nervously through the mist for a sight of the enemy, unaware they were heading straight towards Warwick and Montagu's vaward. Oxford's banner was spotted through the fog by the Lancastrian flank guard. Seeing the 'Starre with Streyms' of the DeVere family, some nervous archers mistook it for the 'Sunne with Raeys', Edward's battle standard which he had adopted after three suns were seen in the sky just before he won the battle of Mortimers Cross. Once again, the Three Suns of York were to prove incredibly lucky for the three surviving sons of York.... Assuming Edward had detached a force to outflank them or Oxford's men were latecomers from London arriving to support the Yorkists, Montagu's flank guard loosed off a volley of arrows, killing several of Oxford's men, and fire was returned before anyone realised that a catastrophic mistake had been made - too late. The damage had been done. Both Oxford and Montagu's troops assumed they had been betrayed, and outraged, dismayed cries of "treachery!" and "treason!" went up. These did untold damage, as the army Warwick had kept together with such great skill and leadership was still highly vulnerable, even at the point of victory. At the back of every soldier's mind lingered the possibility that their allies would betray them, however preoccupied with fighting they were. The cry of "treachery!" passed quickly down the line, and the Lancastrians hesitated, wondering anxiously what was going on, and (more to the point) whether they were about to be attacked from behind...

Oxford assumed that Montagu had turned traitor and hurriedly withdrew his force, who scattered and headed for home. It was each man for himself, the usual case in such desperate retreats. With only a few close supporters, Oxford headed for Scotland in dismay and disgust. What should have been the final blow that broke Edward's collapsing army backfired, and now proved fatal to the Lancastrians instead.........

4 : The Twist in the Tale

As his troops faltered and hesitated, Warwick realised that a critical moment had arrived. He knew only too well that battles are often won and lost in a few seconds of panic and confusion. Edward was equally aware of this too, and saw what was likely to be his last chance. Rallying his exhausted troops, he exalted them to attack with all their remaining strength, then charged the faltering Lancastrian line, throwing in any remaining reserves he still had - all or nothing.

The calls of "Treason!" and "Treachery!" turned the tide. Although no betrayal had even taken place, the underlying unease and suspicion in the Lancastrian ranks finally decided the day, and spelt their doom. As they looked anxiously around them for non-existent attackers concealed in the fog, the Yorkists assaulted them with renewed vigour from the front. Messengers racing down the line to assure everyone that all was well were either ignored or failed to arrive in time. On the point of victory only seconds ago, the Lancasstrians began to retreat in panic, some dropping their weapons and running northward as the rest fell back in increasing disarray.

First to crumble seems to have been the rearward flank, and here young Richard of Gloucester can scarcely have believed his luck. About to be thrown back into the marsh from whence he had surprised Exeter several hours before, his men now found themselves advancing rapidly, back across the same ground they had already won and lost that morning. The grim slaughter began, as it always did (and still does) when orderly retreat turns into desperate flight. Squelching through the sticky, churned up mud, blood and gore, tired, heavily armoured men had little chance of escape. They were either knocked down and killed, or overwhelmed and captured. Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, tried to rally his men, and seems to have made a valiant last stand. For all his faults he was no coward, and his brutal, thuggish nature was well suited to the battlefield as was his stubborn tenacity and unwillingness ever to give in. He fought on foot alongside his men like Warwick and Montagu and paid the price, for wearing heavy armour meant no chance of outrunning his enemies. He was beaten to the ground and probably concussed by a heavy blow to the head. However, although his armour was taken, Exeter wasn't recognised by the Yorkist soldiers, and they left his unconscious body in the mud, probably thinking he was dead. Had they known he was Henry Holland, they would certainly have made sure he was.

In the centre, Warwick knew what was coming and made a last desperate attempt to rally his men as Edward charged. Alongside his friends and the loyal men of his household, he moved to the front of the line. Raising his visor (at considerable risk) to show his troops that the illustrious Earl of Warwick was alive and well, he called to them to stand firm - he would stay with them come what may. It is written that he shouted:

"This is our last resource! Withstand this charge, and the field is ours!"(5)

He may have been right if he had but a few reserves left. Whether he actually said those words or not, Warwick tried to save the situation with a dramatic gesture, typical of the man - he wasn't dubbed "the bravest man of a brave age" later on for nothing. Even so, he was probably unaware of his collapsing left flank, still hidden from view by the fog. Whatever the case, more grim news was on its way - his brother John, Lord Montagu, was dead. Warwick's men held back the Yorkist onslaught for a short while, but when it became clear that the left flank had collapsed and Oxford was not coming back, they knew they would soon be surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered. They began to fall back, in good order to begin with even though they knew the battle was lost.

Veterans would have been painfully aware that soon the moment would come to run for their lives, and at that point they were most likely to die. As panic set in and the remaining Lancastrians broke around them, men began to drop their weapons and head north. The moment would inevitably come when all order was lost and it was each man for himself. Tired after fighting for hours, the most exhausting thing a man can do both physically and mentally, they finally discarded weapons and armour, and ran for their lives, hotly pursued by the equally tired but jubilant Yorkists. Men in full armour could not hope to shed it or run very far, and those who had not wisely withdrawn early and reached their horses were quickly overwhelmed. The rest mostly escaped, but a number of the least fit, wounded or most exhausted could go no further after about half a mile. Running downhill, they found themselves bogged down in a muddy dip, nowadays known as Dead Man's Bottom. Slowed down or stopped altogether, they were overtaken by the fittest and strongest of their pursuers, and slaughtered.

It is not known exactly where Warwick's brother John (Lord Montagu) was when he was killed, but whether Warwick actually saw it happen or not, he probably wasn't very far away. Precisely what happened remains one of the unsolved mysteries of Barnet. As mentioned before, it is highly likely that Warwick posted one or more trusted agents close to his brother, probably with orders to kill him at any sign of treachery or desertion to his old friend Edward. Warkworth, in his chronicle, claims that the Marquess was "agreed and appointed with Edward", i.e., his defection was prearranged, and that he wore Edward's livery beneath his outer clothing. Apparently, one of Warwick's men spotted this, and killed him at the moment of crisis. That is possible, but seems unlikely in view of the situation. It would have been a considerable risk to wear such clothing undetected. Besides, a commander of Montagu's experience would have seen the moment to defect during the initial confusion, and would hardly have pressed on with the fight until the side he was intending to join was almost beaten.

Henry Holland may also have had an agent beside Montagu, and so might the Earl of Oxford. Heavy handed though it may seem, it would have been a wise move on both their parts in view of their previous relationship with the Nevilles. After John Neville had failed to attack Edward's tiny force in the North and had the opportunity to meet him secretly and plot, it could be said that Oxford and Exeter would have been negligent not to have protected their interests so. Whatever the truth, at some point during Edward's final attack, Montagu died - whether by the hand of an agent from his own side or a Yorkist soldier will always remain a mystery.

It is of course possible that Montagu did attempt to defect, and some chroniclers have stated that this was indeed the case (6). It seems unlikely in view of what is known of him as a man however. As already mentioned, a man with Lord Montagu's military experience would have seen his moment to defect at the start of the battle (assuming he had an opportunity), and would hardly have left it so late. Furthermore, had he decided to throw in his lot with the Yorkists and considering what is known of John Neville's nature and personality, he would have been much more likely to openly join Edward during his march South. Subterfuge and clandestine activities were not in the nature of John, who seems to have been an honourable and loyal fellow, unlike his more Machiavellian brothers.

There is another possibility, which concerns Montagu's state of mind at the time. It was said that he "appeared not to care if he lived or died..." before the battle (7). John Neville, unwillingly forced to fight against his oldest and dearest friends and probably feeling that even his own brother no longer trusted him, was the sort of character who may have chosen to die in battle. Perhaps he pressed suicidally into the fiercest fighting and died - Marquess Montagu would have seen that as an honourable death? Edward was upset by the death of John Neville following Barnet, and probably regretted his hasty, high tempered words at the start of the battle, even though it seems unlikely they were directly responsible. Montagu's death will always remain mysterious, but what happened to his brother has become obscured in legend and fanciful fabrication.... As the tide of battle turned inexorably against the Lancastrian hard core, Richard Neville must have felt disappointment bordering on disbelief. He had seen victory within his grasp, suddenly snatched away by Dame Fortune as he closed his fingers. It was a bitter blow for one whose fortune had always seemed so assured, one who never gave up whatever the odds.

How Warwick died is not reliably recorded in 'The Arrivall', strongly Yorkist and keen to besmirch his reputation, it merely states he was "...killed somewhat fleinge...." Whether flying or fleeing, it makes little difference. This is a suspiciously brief account from an age when deaths in battle were usually a matter of great interest (8).

Over the years, these three words have been expanded and embellished into what has become accepted "fact". Here are some versions - "Warwick was cut down trying to reach his horse..."(9)

"Encumbered by his heavy armour... never reached his horse... was cut down near where the Highstone stands."(10)

"He tried to get to his horse... was overtaken... turned and fought off his assailants... staggered on, wounded... overpowered as he reached his mount and killed.."(11)

Sometimes the Kingmaker does better than others - in fact the more time that passes since the battle, the closer he gets to actually escaping:-"He grabbed the bridle, but before he could mount was dragged down... visor levered up.. knifed in the throat.."(12)

Most recently: "It seems he reached his horse, but became entangled in Wrotham wood.... overtaken by pursuers and slain.."(13)

There is no doubt Warwick met his end somewhere on Gladsmuir Heath that day, at or shortly after the end of the battle. It looks as though he was killed by a knife or sword thrust into his throat, probably severing the carotid artery - the quickest method of despatching a fully armoured men after forcing his visor, once overpowered. The wound (and blood) is clearly shown in 'The Arrivall' illustration. The artist may well have seen Warwick's body on display at St Pauls, or at least have been given a description of it by someone who had. He certainly caricatured the Earls' face accurately, and painted a well emphasised cut on the left hand side of his neck.

The exact method of dispatch is unimportant and hardly surprising, but the details of how Warwick met his end and at whose hands, appears to have been a matter of embarrassmnt to the victorious Yorkists. It should certainly bring shame on all those historians who have quoted 'The Arrivall' without question over the years (the "Official Yorkist Account"), rather like writing a history of the Falklands War based on nothing but reports from issues of 'The Sun' newspaper. So who killed him and why?

What really seems to have happened was recorded a few days after the battle, by a person who had access to the best informed sources available, those who were actually in command at the battle - her brothers, Edward, George and Richard no less. In a private letter, known about for many years and listed as a source in P.M. Kendall's 1957 biography 'Warwick the Kingmaker', Edward's sister Margaret told her mother in law (the dowager Duchess of Burgundy) about events at Barnet. She states that Warwick was captured at the end of the battle, and was being taken (alive) to Edward when "some men recognised him and killed him".

There is no obvious reason for her to fabricate such a story, which she apparently heard from "a man who had been in the battle". Whoever that man was, and whether or not she asked her brothers to confirm the details, Margaret couldn't really have had access to much better sources of information than those at court. After all this time, nor can we...... Why this private letter has been ignored in favour of 'The Arrivall', so obviously written to please Edward and the Duke of Burgundy (who was effectively paying for all this), is questionable. It looks as though following many repetitions over the centuries, there is great reluctance to consider anything but the traditional "facts", whatever the evidence?

How Warwick was captured is unknown. Standing valiantly against impossible odds maybe, tripped and caught in brambles perhaps, or exhausted and unable to run any further - most likely? In the end it matters little as he was caught. But who were the men who "recognised" him, and why did they kill him on the spot?

It stands to reason that Edward, no doubt in high spirits after his unexpected reversal of fortune, would generously have rewarded anybody who brought Warwick to him alive. Edward seems to have withdrawn his "spare nobody" order as he saw victory in sight, particularly anxious to spare the lives of his cousins and even mentioning them specifically in some accounts (14). Whether to gloat or (more probably) from concern for publicity and perhaps his relatives and former friends themselves, he appears not to have wanted them killed, or at least not be publicly seen to? So who would want to kill Warwick, rather than collect a substantial reward and earn the gratitude of their King?

In the chase it is certain many of Edward's men missed his command for mercy (if he gave it). Even so, it appears Warwick was already a prisoner when he died. The obvious reason would be that the men who killed him had either a personal grudge or were acting for one who did. There were plenty of people present on the field who had good reason to hate Warwick with a vengeance. Anthony Woodville for instance, who had lost several relatives by Warwick's order seems one likely candidate. However, he seems to have been a sporting man who would probably have preferred to deal with his enemy personally. It is not inconceivable that he did so, but as a publicly known figure (brother of the Queen), he was likely to have been recognised - Edward would certainly have had something to say about the matter. It could have been his henxmen even so.

Of course, Edward himself had a very strong motive to rid himself of his powerful, troublesome and extremely popular cousin. In view of the last fact, popularity, he may have considered it unwise to be implicated in the cold blooded murder of his cousin, who had after all risked his life in Edward's service on many occasions, been his mentor and loyal friend for years, and was unquestionably responsible for him ever becoming King Edward IV in the first place. Such bad publicity would have alienated many commoners and discouraged many of the nobility from supporting him in the future, and would hardly have encouraged any who had doubts about the quality of his mercy or trustworthiness. Any idea that they may have met after the battle and Warwick was perhaps put to death in Edward's presence can almost certainly be dismissed. The number of witnesses surrounding the King at the time would have made it impossible - rumours and stories of such a thing would inevitably have leaked out. However, Edward certainly was not above sending forth agents to do the job somewhere out of sight while he made a public display of concern for the welfare of his cousins.

In the end, one suspect stands out way above all others, for two very good reasons. It almost seems unfair to lay another 'possible crime' on his already overladen doorstep, but this man had very strong motives indeed, plenty of men to hand, and above all he had the ruthless, paranoid personality to order such a thing. It is of course Edward's brother George, Duke of Clarence, husband of Warwick's eldest daughter Isobel. Already in disgrace for betraying Edward, what ghastly secrets of treachery, disloyalty and plots to take the throne might his cousin and father-in-law the Earl of Warwick be likely to tell King Edward, were he taken alive? Such thoughts must have caused considerable anxiety in Clarence's twisted mind during the battle, and nobody else on the field would have been more relieved to see Warwick silenced for good. Added to that was an enormous bonus, the massive Warwick inheritance - George no doubt thought of that! He may have been a Duke, but with Richard Neville dead, George could well inherit the Earldom of Warwick and all that went with it. That alone would have been more than enough to tempt him to murder his father-in-law. One thing all accounts agree upon is that Warwick's armour was taken, possibly by his killers, though more likely by roving bands of soldiers pillaging the fallen. Edward was said to be saddened and angry about the death of his cousins, so whether those who made off with Warwick's fabulous armour panicked and disposed of it on the field (too hot to handle), or it was merely lost in time, no part of it has survived as far as is known. The one and only relic allegedly taken from the body of Richard Neville that has survived the five centuries since his death is a gold finger ring, engraved with the bear and ragged staff, and the motto "Soulement Une" (Only One). It is now in Liverpool city museum. The story of how it got there casts more light on events surrounding the death of Warwick.

5 : The Ring of Truth..?

As mentioned, most accounts of the battle of Barnet mention that Warwick's body was left naked on the field. In those days, the word "naked" usually just meant "unarmed" or "not wearing armour" when used in such a context. Charles Ross, who hardly conceals his contempt for the Neville family in various works, gleefully mentions this degradation, and goes on to exaggerate about the display of Richard and John Neville's bodies outside St. Paul's cathedral, with descriptions of clouds of flies and decomposition which are obvious nonsense.

The story of the Neville Ring throws doubt on this 'tradition' about the condition of Richard Neville's corpse following the battle, and hints at other things, like a whitwash and concealment of the facts. The ring in question was a possession of the Crown, from the time of the battle until George IV gave it to a 'lady friend' as a present and shows every indication of having been the property of Richard Neville and dating from the late 15th. Century. The style of the 'Bear and Ragged Staff' emblem (altered to suit Richard Neville's personal taste several times), was only ever used by Warwick the Kingmaker himself. The motto "Soulement Une" engraved upon it is intriguing, although what or who it refers to is a bit of a mystery, as "Une" is obviously feminine and unlikely to be religious unless it be the Virgin Mary. Maybe it referred to Anne (nee Beachamp), his Countess, as Warwick doesn't seem to have left any obvious trail of illegitimate children - almost expected of one in his position then.

'Only One', feminine or not, strangely suits Richard Neville - often out on his own, with few (if any) close friends he could really trust. Also present is another inscription "be goddis faire foot", an oath meaning "by God's foot" in modern language. This is not a curse, for such expressions were commonly used in the 15th century, an age of religious relic trading and oaths involving parts of holy figures (e.g. "by God's arms" from Chaucer, and "by God's blood" or even "bowels" as used by Oliver Cromwell a couple of centuries later). These blood-curdling oaths were not considered blasphemous or indecent, more expressions of great determination or even reverence (incidentally, "God" was almost always written with a small "g" in the 15th Century). This particular oath seems rather appropriate, although it was actually Warwick's foot rather than 'goddis' that booted two Kings of England off the throne.

The ring weighs 555 grains, just over an ounce of pure gold - most unlikely to have been left on a naked corpse by even the most short-sighted pillager at Barnet. Such a valuable and easily hidden treasure seems rather unlikely to have been 'handed in' by an honest and dutiful soldier either. The fact that it ended up in Royal hands tends to suggest that a member (or members) of the Royal family might well have had some involvement in the killing of Warwick - it may have been brought in as proof of his demise by an assassin. Of course, it may not even have been on Richard Neville's finger that day and been a tiny part of the Warwick estate, which Clarence and Gloucester subsequently quarelled over. This is a signet ring however, of which there really should be 'only one' and that 'one' always on the finger the owner for sealing correspondence and orders - unlikely to have been left behind on a military campaign.

These matters are pure speculation of course, but what little evidence there is tends to suggest that the 'traditional version' of Warwick's death is neither complete nor wholly accurate.

Another interesting thing the Neville Ring reveals is the diameter of Warwick's finger, an indication of his strength and stature - the only positive indication left today. He is always shown in portraits with long fingers and large hands when they show. Even considering that such rings were often made to be worn over gloves, Warwick had powerful, thick fingers, doubtless well used to gripping battleaxes and swords. He still stands much as Bulwer-Lytton saw him, a big man in every way, and a brave soldier and inspiring leader, though more capable in arms than politics. Deeply troubled by his shortcomings and failures and perhaps born a little too late for his own good?

The bodies of the Neville brothers were taken to London and put on public display, in a single coffin on the pavement outside St. Pauls Cathedral, clad only in loin cloths. This was not from any desire to degrade his cousins or gloat morbidly on Edward's part, but a wise move to show that the Neville brothers really were dead, preventing rumours of their survival which could have caused him untold trouble. After two or three days they were probably embalmed, then sent to Bisham Abbey, to be finally laid to rest in the Neville family vault.

Their tomb must once have been a spectacular and impressive sight, for Warwick had arranged for his father, mother and brother Thomas to be interred there a few years before, and he was never one to stint on expensive and impressive monuments. Unfortunately it was destroyed during the Reformation along with most of the Abbey. No record or trace of it has survived, and the graven images of the Neville family probably lie broken in pieces somewhere beneath the tennis courts of the National Centre for Physical Recreation, assuming they didn't end up as part of a local building. Sadly, it seems very unlikely they will be found in the near future, or the bones of those they represent.

WHERE WAS THE BATTLE?

No contemporary maps are available to show exactly where the battle took place. Three accounts (The Arrival, Polydore Vergil and the Chronicles of London) vaguely mention that the battle was on a "plain" outside Barnet town, which must mean the high ground to the north, as Edward passed through Barnet on his way, marching up the Great North Road. Sir John Paston's letter also mentions the battle was half a mile from Barnet.

The encounter between Edward's scouts and Warwick's men by the 'hedgesyde' mentioned in The Arrival, apparently also took place about half a mile to the north of Barnet (which is now known as High Barnet), providing another clue as to where the Lancastrian line was. That is about all that is available from contemporary sources, so detective work, examination of the ground and a little imagination are needed to find the exact spot and the dispositions of the two armies at the start.

As already mentioned, there has been a lot of confusion and debate over the years about this, but I hope the matter can be laid to rest at long last. To begin with, here are a few opinions from the past and the evidence they were probably based upon. Maps of the battle dispositions appear in most "Battlefields of Britain" and "Wars of the Roses" books.

In 1955, at the start of a period of intense interest in this period of history, P. M. Kendall wrote an excellent and well researched biography of Richard III. It includes a pair of maps which he states were "based on his own inspection of the ground.... and examination of documentary accounts". Kendall referred to the famous military historian Colonel A. H. Burne, describing his 1950 account of the battle of Barnet as "stimulating and helpful", though he obviously didn't absolutely agree with all of the Colonel's conclusions. Kendall was also a little uncertain in his own conclusions, because two years later in his 1957 book 'Warwick the Kingmaker', the map of the initial positions at Barnet had changed. Others followed in his footsteps, and most of those who have investigated the battle in detail appear to have been troubled by the same problem I initially encountered.

Playing 'Table Top General' with a large scale O.S. map and cardboard strips to represent the various possible sizes and configurations of the two forces at that scale, I had little trouble placing Warwick's force, as there is only one sensible place to choose. But the Yorkist army, in view of what we know happened in the early stages of the battle, is very difficult to place anywhere near where they must have been - there just isn't enough high ground. The only accurate map placing Richard of Gloucester's force where it really was (apparently ignoring the topography), was in Colonel Burne's book. He admits that he cannot explain why Richard of Gloucester was stationed so far off the high ground, but the late Colonel, who lived near the spot and had access to archaeological evidence which has since vanished, seems to have known *where* he was but not why. If he was correct, all the contemporary accounts make sense and Edward's army fits neatly into place. This also makes it quite easy to see what must have happened later on in the battle.

The key to what has gone wrong lies can be found in an old map, copies of which were given away as 'free gifts' at local petrol stations a few years ago. This is the Roque map of 1754, the earliest topographical map of the battlefield area known to exist (though still only "half way there" in time - it was drawn some 280 years after the event).

Careful comparisons with the modern Ordnance Survey with regard to distances and directions, show that in the worst case the two maps differ by less than 5%, and are, on the whole, within 2% of each other. There is also an overall distortion which may be due to the curvature of the earth which explains many of these discrepancies, and it does not significantly affect the accuracy of Roque's map when considering small areas.

Roque produced his maps from mileometer readings and compass readings of prominent landmarks, and were compiled from his skilled personal observation of the terrain from high spots. What he saw from the church tower at Monken Hadley in the 1750's was rather different from the landscape we see today. He didn't use contours, marking steep slopes and high ground by shading, which is very clear and actually more helpful when giving an impression of the lie of the land than the modern O.S. contour system - if not quite so scientifically accurate.

As it happens, contour lines have actually been the cause of much inaccuracy and the reason for the bewilderment of many who have tried to draw a map of the battlefield in the past. The four hundred foot contour is usually used to define the edge of the 'plateau' on which the battle was fought, instead of the sharp drop away in gradient (which is more noticeable when walking the battlefield on foot). In addition to that, nobody seems to have considered the possibility that the terrain might actually have changed in the last five centuries. The Roque map shows very clearly that it has in fact altered quite dramatically.

Drainage, extensive building work to the southeast, new roads, the construction of a railway line and a vast movement of earth to build a ramp for the new, more civilised main road up Barnet Hill, changed the terrain on the eastern side of the field. The ridge on which Richard of Gloucester was stationed before the battle has shrunk, some used as hardcore and ballast for modern building work and probably through natural erosion as well. The treacherous dip into which he advanced at dawn has been partially filled with material taken from the ridge, during a large-scale levelling operation to create playing fields.

On the western side of the field, the golf course and the construction of the new St. Albans road have probably also had an effect, though not as significantly, for most of the work was too far to the west to affect the battlefield itself.

Another interesting feature of the area, which is rather mysterious, is the place of legend known as "Dead Man's Bottom". The name perhaps conjures up an image of two small pink hills slightly squashed together to the less serious historian, but in fact it was a boggy depression, named following the dreadful slaughter of fleeing Lancastrians, whoo were slowed up by the mud as they tried to escape to the north.

Dead Man's Bottom appears to move around to the convenience of map makers and theorists over the years. The first O.S. map, from the early 19th C, places it well north of the battlefield, about where it might be expected that exhaustion would be very likely to overcome men desperately trying to escape the fighting. (See Map no.---)

Map no. ---- shows the probable initial disposition of the two sides, taking into account the presence of the moated manor house at Old Fold, which existed in 1471 and probably helped to decide Warwick's deployment (the moat is probably the only surviving landmark which was actually there in 1471). This map is based on the ground as represented and shown on the 1754 Roque map, in conjunction with a wonderful 1726 tithe map of the area west of the Great North Road, which is very detailed indeed, even showing the types of individual trees.

The creation of football and cricket pitches immediately to the east of Monken Hadley church involved partial filling in of the "bottom" into which Richard of Gloucester advanced as mentioned, and he and his men would certainly have been very glad if it had been done before 1471. The church itself was built over twenty years after the battle, and whatever structure it replaced (if any) wasn't mentioned in any contemporary account of the battle.

What was the Great North Road in 1471 is only a footpath today, running past the clubhouse of Old Fold Golf Club. The current North Road is less than 200 years old and swings in a curve to the east, not straight like the old Roman road. Despite being only a footpath, the 'Old Road' is probably in better shape than it was in the 15th C, apart perhaps from the section to the North of the Highstone, which although officially the Queens Highway, appears to be little better than it was when Warwick marched down it in 1471. Drive a sports car with lowered suspension on it at your peril!

Map no.---- shows what had probably happened after the initial confusion, though it is far more difficult to be accurate - only the letter of Margaret of Burgundy gives any hint as to the later positions of the two sides, i.e. the lines turned nearly ninety degrees after the initial confusion and the collapse of both rearward flanks, align almost north to south. In view of the chaotic reorganisation and the poor visibility at the time, the lines were unlikely to have been straight and must have surged back and forth like a snake as the battle developed.

Map no.---- shows the probable position when Oxford returned from Barnet, assuming he followed the Great North Road and unexpectedly engaged Montagu's flank instead of Edward's rear. After the initial collapses and retreats and the reformation of the Lancastrian line, the Lancastrians have pushed the Yorkists back - exactly how far is impossible to tell, but not as far as the edge of the ridge.

APPENDIX 2

Where Are They Now ?

This appendix may seem unusual and perhaps a little macabre to some, but there are so few traces of the battle left, it is really the last connection with that day in 1471 - so far.

One thing is for certain, perhaps the only absolutely certain fact that can be stated about the battle of Barnet- everyone who fought that day is long dead. It is highly unlikely that any of them survived beyond the Reformation. Some of their graves do still exist however, and other traces of them or their achievements that can still be seen today are therefore listed here.

The Yorkists

EdwardIV still resides in the chapel at Windsor castle, his magnificent tomb remaining undisturbed (apart from the little intrusion to see if he "measured up" around 100 years ago) since his burial.

Lord Hastings lies nearby, buried next to him at Windsor by Edward's request - hopefully they continue to party on together in the next life.

Richard III, as he became, did not fare so well. His tomb was more modest than Edward's, as so often happens after losing one's last battle. During the Reformation he was tipped into the river Soar and his coffin used as a horse trough for some time afterwards. Unfortunately even that has not lasted, and was eventually broken up. Pieces of it are thought to be incorporated in the cellar steps of a nearby pub, which seems plausible - until the rather sinister connection with a flight of steps in the Tower, and the bodies of his little nephews is considered.... but does it really matter now? If anybody took any relics from the river, they have long since been lost or buried. We will never know what he really looked like alas.

Clarence, perhaps undeservedly, was decently buried after his fatal dip in the wine barrel. His bones, mixed together with those of his wife, Isobel, are rather bizarrely parked in a transparent coffin, (though hidden from public view}, in a vault under Tewkesbury Abbey. The intriguing possibility of discovering exactly what he and Warwick's beautiful daughter Isobel actually looked like remains then, especially fascinating since no real portrait of either of them survives.

Of the others, a few are buried in churches around London and the Home counties, and perhaps others farther afield. However, the vast majority of the Yorkist casualties are buried alongside their Lancastrian opponents, within a mile or two of the spot where they died in 1471...

The Lancastrians

As already mentioned, Warwick and his brother were also posthumous victims of the Reformation, as most of Bisham Abbey was destroyed by soldiers of Henry VIII. Their magnificent tomb was smashed, and any parts not used for local building work many centuries ago, lie somewhere beneath the grounds of the National Centre for Physical Recreation. It is very unlikely that any trace of their bones or bodies will ever be found, five centuries after being scattered. Nobody seems to have kept any souvenirs either, at least none are known to have survived. It is not definitely known if they were even embalmed, not that it would make any difference, although the latest DNA fingerprinting techniques offer a forlorn hope that maybe they could be positively identified one day.

The fragmented stone effigies of them and their Neville relatives may still be buried somewhere at Bisham, but it seems unlikely any dig will discover them in the foreseeable future. Sadly, it is probable that no effigies of them were made anyway, since the Warwick inheritance was taken by Richard and Clarence, and such items are not cheap. No records of funeral expenses have survived.

The Duke of Exeter was killed a few years after his escape from the battlefield, in somewhat mysterious circumstances during a sea voyage, when he was forcibly thrown overboard and drowned mid-Channel. Agents of Charles the Bold are said to have been responsible, acting on a request from Edward IV, who obviously wished to avoid any possible further trouble from that particular source.

Oxford's monument outlasted most of the others - until the Civil War. He had a fine stone effigy on his tomb, but unfortunately it failed to survive the ravages of Puritan vandalism and only a crude line drawing of it survives. What happened to his body is unknown, but it may hopefully still be safe in a quiet vault somewhere.

Other prominent Lancastrians fared little better. The Pastons vanished along with their graves, as did most people from the 15th. century. It was, after all, a very long time ago...

It may seem that is the end - all gone, all said. That is not quite so however, for one thing about the battle of Barnet makes it different from virtually any other important battle in England. The ground has never been ploughed, being common land and not particularly suitable for agriculture anyway. The chantry chapel that was erected by Edward to "service" the souls of the dead for eternity, was also a victim of the Reformation, and did not even last a century after it was built.

Although there is a vague reference to Edward stopping off there to pray during a journey North some years after the battle, and there are details of maintenance and repair costs in the St. Albans Abbey records up until the Reformation, nothing is mentioned after that. It fell into disuse at that point and crumbled away. By 1728 it had all but vanished, although a number of footpaths possibly once leading to it do show even so. The name of Pimlico Field may have be derived from the chapel once within it, outlasting the bricks and mortar of the building itself. Pimlico House was the first building to be constructed in that area, sometime in the early 18th.C, and the reason for that may well be that materials, if not actual foundations, were already present to give the builders a good start.

The gravepits of the common soldiers are also probably nearby, identified by soil disturbances and 'crop' marks which are visible at certain times of the year. If so, they have remained undisturbed since the battle, narrowly missed by drains, roads, buildings and sewers through sheer chance. They may hopefully soon prove a very valuable source of information about the men who fought that day, and how they lived and died in the 15th C. We shall see...

Aftermath

The fighting was over by late morning. After 'booking the dead' and congratulating those who had survived, Edward returned to London, stopping for a quick drink in Barnet on the way. He interrupted the Easter service at St. Pauls cathedral to give thanks, and ordered a victory Te Deum to be sung. The hard won Lancastrian banners were presented at the altar in gratitude, and the bodies of Warwick and Montagu were delivered later to be exhibited the next day, as already mentioned.

Not usually being one to miss an excuse for a party, Edward's celebrations seem to have been very low key. He had lost many good friends, perhaps a thousand or more of his best men and the job was still only half done, for he was certainly not securely seated on the throne yet. With a large number of his most loyal followers injured and killed, he had little cause for joy. The death of his cousins seems to have saddened Edward too, particularly John Neville, who he had treated so off-handedly in return for his many years of faithful service. Also, whatever Warwick might have done to undermine him in recent years, memories of his loyal friendship and unswerving support in earlier days probably caused Edward to reflect. He had treated the man who had effectively put him on the throne carelessly and with a distinct lack of gratitude.

He may also have considered who was to blame for his recent downfall and exile, and thought darkly about why everything had gone so sour lately. There could only really be one answer. Looking at his smug cold Queen and her creeping relatives around him once again, Edward must have regretted many of his recent choices and actions, and asked himself who his real friends had been. He probably realised correctly that it was mostly his own fault he had ended up in such a sad mess. Clarence no doubt (sensibly for once) kept a very low profile while his brother brooded so.

Throughout England and Wales, those who had hesitated and wavered during the last few anxious weeks had a much easier choice to make now, with the best part of the Lancastrian forces defeated. Messages of congratulation and support, along with a mass of apologies and excuses for 'non-attendance' started to arrive as news of the Yorkist victory spread. Even so, solid military support was rather slow to arrive, and when Edward marched weat to finish off the remaining Lancastrians a fortnight later, he had a significantly smaller army than he fielded at Barnet.

Requests for pardons flooded in too, and were granted in large numbers without much fuss, perhaps another indication of Edward's regrets. He allowed the bodies of Warwick and Montagu to be interred in the family grave at Bisham Abbey after a couple of days on view - long enough for the population to see that they really were dead and forestall rumours or rebellions by those tempted to claim otherwise. Once again, this may indicate a twinge of guilt on Edward's part, or at least the abatement of his fury, as it was quite normal to send bits and pieces of such fallen foes to be exhibited in troublesome towns and cities throughout the realm, to remind potential troublemakers of the terrible fate awaiting unsuccessful rebels and traitors.

Not Quite a "Perfite Victory"

The list of important people killed at Barnet clearly shows what a hard fought affair it was, and casts yet more doubt on the accuracy of 'The Arrivall'. Many high ranking Yorkists such as Lord Cromwell, Viscount Bourchier and Sir Humphrey Bourchier (all members of the same family), Lord Saye and Sele, Sir John Lisle and Sir Thomas Parry, were killed in the fighting - rather unusual and significant. Many men of high rank were killed during the Wars of the Roses, but only normally when they were on the losing side. It was unusual for such men to die on the winning side, even in fierce fighting, being well protected by heavy armour and bodyguards. Even then, most were taken alive and executed soon after the battle.

The noblemen who died on Edward's side at Barnet must have been in the thick of the action and were overrun. It was obviously a very close affair, and at some point the Yorkists found themselves very hard pressed indeed. As well as the deaths of these men of note, many were wounded on both sides. Richard of Gloucester was slightly injured, and John Howard (later to become Richard's loyal supporter as the Duke of Norfolk) was severely hurt.

Fewer men of rank were killed on the Lancastrian side, apart from Warwick and Montagu. John Paston was wounded in the arm by an arrow, mentioned in a rather desperate letter he sent home urgently requesting cash. This shows that 'private medicine' was very expensive in the 15th century, so little seems to have changed there...

Henry Holland was left for dead as mentioned, and still lay unconscious on the field in the late afternoon when one of his servants found him. He was taken to a surgeon and apparently made a full recovery. Whether that was a good thing from the point of view of the fiery Duke of Exeter is questionable.

Many injuries were extremely nasty and almost certainly mortal. Von Wesel's letter indicates that he was quite shocked to see dreadful facial injuries "...noses missing...", and a large number of serious leg wounds, which tends to confirm that many men sacrificed leg protection in the interests of mobility and risked fighting with their visors open in order to see and breathe more easily. Obviously there was a heavy price to pay for those who were unlucky.

Such badly wounded men would have had little chance of survival, and hundreds probably died very unpleasantly during the next few days. Even so, recent archaeological evidence from Towton shows that some recovered from shocking battlefield injuries and lived to fight again.

Clearing the battlefield would have got underway quickly in view of the warm weather, and most of the dead were probably buried within a week. The carnage on the field would have been a truly appalling sight. Estimates of the number killed vary greatly, as with most 15th Century battles. John Paston rather ambiguously wrote "....thousand on both sides.." which could indicate either 1,000 or 2,000 dead. That estimate is the lowest, others mention 10,000 and more.

The actual figure was probably between 2,000 and 3,000. John Paston is unlikely to have seen the full scale of the slaughter, as he probably left the field long before the fog and smoke cleared. He may have heard rumours and gossip however, for his letter was written in London some days later. Other contemporary sources tend to support the lower figure. The Arrivall mentions the "discomfiture of 30,000 men", though gives no number of Lancastrian dead. Neither does it mention Yorkist losses, which were certainly very heavy and might well have accounted for more than half of the total in view of what happened.

The figure of 10,000 probably stems from confusion over an early account, but it has been tediously repeated in many more over the centuries. Polydore Vergil, writing his history of England some 50 years later (to suit the tastes of Henry VII), mentions it. It may be derived from a mention of some 10,000 arrows that were apparently collected on the field afterwards.

Whatever the figure, the aftermath would have been truly ghastly to see. One gruesome detail, seldom considered, is the probability that some five to ten thousand pints of blood probably drenched the dead and the field, in a fairly confined area. Anybody who has seen the mess that a fraction of a pint of blood can make will appreciate the full horror of that. Stories of rivers and streams running red with blood for days after battles are no fanciful exaggeration - this phenomenon was seen in the American Civil War, and is mentioned in accounts of other battles during the Wars of the Roses, notably Towton. You can be sure that the dew ponds on Gladsmuir Heath were a grim sight for many weeks afterwards.

Most of the dead were buried in grave pits on the field, although some of noble birth and a few of the better off were taken away to be buried with more dignity in family tombs, mostly in London and the Home Counties. Unfortunately, the Reformation, the Great Fire, official vandalism and the Luftwaffe have destroyed nearly all of them.

Edward financed the construction and upkeep of a chantry chapel, where prayers were 'professionally' said for the souls of those who died, to ease their passage into Heaven, or at least to cut down their stretch in Purgatory. Apparently the chapel was built either above or near to the grave pits. The exact position was never recorded, but it was occasionally mentioned during the following century in the St. Albans Abbey records, mainly concerning repairs and maintenance.

The chapel was abandonded after the Reformation, and part of it may be incorporated into a house which still exists. Whatever happened, any sign of a 15th. Century chapel has long since vanished, and it isn't even marked on the 1754 Roque map, or even the superbly detailed 1728 tithe map, although it contains clues which show where it probably was. The ruins and those who rest nearby, still await 'official' discovery (though not 'unofficial' - see Appendix).

There are no known records of the gravepits being cleared (or even found) during the past five centuries, so they probably remain undisturbed - a most intriguing treasure for archaeologists, if a little grim. The church at Monken Hadley is sometimes mentioned as a likely spot, but it was built in 1484 (marked by a mason over the door) which rules it out. It is a purpose built church anyway, not a chantry chapel. (More detailed discussion of this matter in the Appendix).

More Bloodshed to Come......

As for as the survivors, some had a very grim ordeal ahead of them. Poor Henry (once again the ex-VI) took the last positive action of his unhappy life. After being compelled to watch his supporters lose yet again, the gentle Henry, who abhorred bloodshed and violence (yet had to watch more battles than almost any other English King and see his side lose nearly all of them), gave his escort the slip during the confusion at the end of the battle. He rode north, and did pretty well considering he was over fifty and no great horseman. After a long pursuit he was overtaken on the St. Albans road, then led back once again to the Tower. That was to be his last taste of freedom.

The Earl of Oxford headed for Scotland, in dire straits it seems. Only a few men travelled with him, and he found himself a wanted man with no cash. A desperate 'veiled' request for equipment and money, probably written by Oxford himself, exists amongst the Paston letters. He managed to reach Scotland, but was not really safe until he escaped to the Continent as a penniless exile. Many years of failed ventures and dreary imprisonment lay ahead of him, yet John DeVere was destined to outlive all the other commanders at Barnet. Almost unbelievably, he came out on top in the end, though he would never have foreseen such a rosy future ahead as he fled for his life that day.

Epilogue

On May 4th, less than three weeks after Barnet, Edward finally caught up with the remaining Lancastrian forces following an exhausting chase across the West Country. At Tewkesbury, during a somewhat smaller and shorter battle, the final hopes of Henry VI and Queen Margaret were dashed forever. Their son Edward, the great hope of the Lancastrian cause, was killed on the field (said to have been appealing to Clarence for mercy as he died - a waste of breath if ever there was!), along with nearly all the few remaining Lancastrian supporters of any consequence.

Edward was once again on ruthless form, dragging the Duke of Somerset and others from sanctuary in Tewkesbury Abbey on a technicality, then summarily executing them. Margaret of Anjou was captured and led back to London in triumph, her great spirit finally broken as she grieved for her beloved son.

London had withstood a very serious rebellion of Kent and Essex men while Edward was away. Led by the Bastard of Fauconberg (Warwick's illegitimate cousin) and some 30,000 strong with a powerful fleet in support, it very nearly succeeded and seriously threatened to bushwhack Edward on his triumphant return, for he had disbanded most of his army. But brave and determined though they were, the rebels lacked leadership and organisation, and were cleverly foiled by Anthony Woodville, largely through bluff.

Fragmented, the rebels had melted away by the time the victorious Yorkists returned, and the Bastard surrendered on being offered pardon. A bad move on his part, for it wasn't long before his head appeared on the City gates, looking permanently towards Kent but no longer attached to his body. Another example of how important it was to carefully read the small print on King Edward IV's Royal Pardons....

Exeter made a slow recovery and managed to get into sanctuary, later escaping to the continent. His fighting days were over however, as was his welcome in Burgundy. Although no longer a serious threat, he died violently a few years after the battle, killed either by Edward or Burgundy's hit-men, who threw him overboard during a voyage in the English Channel.

Oxford made a futile attempt to invade a few years later, hoping to stir up traditional Lancastrian supporters in the West Country and Wales. He managed to capture St. Michael's Mount, a small island fortress off the Cornish coast, but after a long and bloodless siege his men were talked into surrendering, and Oxford subsequently spent many long years imprisoned in Hammes fortress, near Calais. The Paston letters mention his daring but hopeless escape attemps over the years, showing the dogged determination of the man. He was finally released by a sympathetic guardian shortly after Edward IV died. John DeVere's great spirit and steadfast loyalty were never broken, as we shall see...

After Tewkesbury, ex-King Henry (locked in the Tower yet again), was apparently mortally affected by hearing the disastrous news of the death of his young son. The tragic ex-King passed away "from pure displeasure and melancholy", according to the official account.

This malaise had a rather remarkable effect, the only case ever known to medical science where "melancholia" caused the back of the skull to collapse, as was discovered when his skeleton was examined early in the 20th Century. It appears he was struck a heavy blow from behind, legend has it whilst kneeling at prayer at a chapel in the Tower. His body bled on the pavement where it was exhibited to the public, and rumours of foul play circulated at the time, even mentioning Richard of Gloucester in person as the assassin (Phillipe de Commines). It was certainly done on Edward's order, suggestion, or instigation - whoever struck the fatal blow is really immaterial.

However, quite why Richard of Gloucester should have been specifically mentioned as the culprit is a mystery, as he hadn't yet offended anyone on the continent as far as is known. Whatever the truth, it was an ominous start to Richard's career, and the fact that he had Henry's remains reburied in a more fitting tomb (at his own expense) many years later may perhaps reveal a twinge of guilt?

The unusual way in which Henry's nose bled whilst 'lying in state' may also indicate that his head injury was not immediately fatal, and he lingered for a while in a deep coma... a macabre possibility.

The death of Henry, his son and virtually all Lancastrian Lords of any consequence, meant that Edward was secure at last. Although plagued by tiresome rebellions from time to time, the rest of his reign passed relatively peacefully, his brother Richard (not very comfortable at the Woodville dominated Court) dutifully looking after the North and doing the job well.

George Neville soon ran into trouble, being accused of plotting with Clarence against King Edward. His vast wealth was confiscated and he spent most of the rest of his life in prison.

George Duke of Clarence, predictably enough, eventually overstepped the mark in 1478, his inept attempts to undermine Edward and take the Crown never ceasing despite being given numerous warnings and countless 'last chances'. The Woodvilles (having never forgotten Clarence's eager participation in the killing of their father and brother), finally forced Edward to act - the death sentence was passed. After hesitating and dithering for a while, Edward is said to have offered his treacherous brother the choice of how he was to die, and he chose to be drowned in a butt of his favourite Malmesy wine.

As for the other Yorkist commanders, Anthony Woodville and Lord Hastings prospered during Edward's reign. Favourites at Court, Hastings eagerly joined in the King's feasting and womanising, while Earl Rivers (Anthony's new title) postured elegantly in magnificent costumes and translated classical works during his time off, some of the first books ever printed in England. Both must have looked forward to a pretty relaxed and easy retirement, now the Yorkist dynasty seemed unchallenged and secure.

Edward produced two fine sons, Edward Jr. and Richard, and the future did indeed look rosy. He invaded France and was handsomely paid off by the wily Louis XI, with a substantial yearly pension. This ensured few financial worries for Edward and relief from tiresome English invasions on Louis's part. King Edward IV grew plump then obese as he feasted and drank, despite reviving the old bulemic Roman idea of the 'vomitorium' in order to enjoy a second round of over indulgence at the table.

Whether his lifestyle weakened his constitution or not, it seems a little odd that he died suddenly at only 40, from a "cold caught on a fishing trip" - the sort of illness that usually only seems to be fatal to past Presidents of the Soviet Union. Knowing his number was up, Edward had little time to arrange the succession, and his last thoughts must have been anxious ones - of the hatred between his brother Richard and the Woodvilles, and other problems at court. They did make a show of kissing and making up for the dying King's benefit, but it seems unlikely he was convinced after a lifetime of giving and receiving such promises himself...

The Bitter End

The subsequent interactions between the men who commanded at Barnet are tragic and bizarre. Richard seized the throne, probably with reluctance and only to save his own skin as the Woodvilles attempted to undermine his Protectorship (young Edward V, being a minority king, ruled only in name until he was of age or crowned). In the confusion of betrayals and alliances that sprang up from day to day, Richard lashed out in a rather heavy handed way, and had Hastings and Rivers (Anthony Woodville) summarily executed. Inevitably, the uncrowned Prince Edward and his brother Richard were imprisoned, to become forever 'The Little Princes in the Tower'. When clumsy legal attempts to discredit and disinherit them failed to convince the public, it seems likely they were murdered and their bodies hidden, probably on their uncle's orders, though many disagree to this day.

King Richard III had a very short reign, marred by tragedy and treachery. His wife Anne died (probably from T.B. or cancer, though poison is inevitably mentioned), shortly after the death of their little son - yet another ill fated Prince Edward. Anne was the younger daughter of Warwick the Kingmaker. Her older sister Isobel had married Clarence, but died long before her husband's execution. Neither girl reached thirty years of age. Richard was thus left with no wife or heir, highly vulnerable to usurpation.

In 1485 he finally locked horns with his opposite vaward commander at Barnet. It was the last action between the last two surviving Barnet commanders, which took place near Ambion hill at the battle of Bosworth. The Earl of Oxford led the army of Henry Tudor to victory and finally took his revenge, being rewarded with a place of honour and comfort for the rest of his life. He was the only commander at Barnet who did not meet a suspicious, violent or bloody end.

At Bosworth another 'legacy' of Barnet may have contributed to the terrible death of the last Yorkist King and the last surviving 'Son of York'. Could it be the lingering memory of Edward's desperate, bold, reckless last attack, which turned the tide and broke the wavering Lancastrians at Barnet, be responsible for Richard's heedless charge down Ambion hill to his death?

Sensing treachery and treason all around him once again, perhaps Richard remembered his brother's greatest moment, and hoped to repeat his sudden reversal of fortune? His last furious, despairing shouts as he was surrounded and hacked down were said to have been "Treason!...Treason!" - the very same word which had broken the Lancastrians at Barnet. Like so many other things from that fascinating age, we shall never know...

Notes

1. Gerhard Von Wesel’s letter
2. ‘The Arrival’
3. See notes on sources in Bibliography. [to come]
4. Phillippe de Commines
5. Based on Holinshed, this is repeated in many modern accounts.
6. ‘The Arrival’, Warkworth’s Chronicle and most others.
7. Phillippe de Commines
8. See (3)
9. Col. A H Burne (Battlefields of England)
10. William Seymour (Battles in Britain)
11. Hubert Cole (Wars of the Roses)
12. P M Kendall (Warwick the Kingmaker)
13. Hammond (Barnet & Tewkesbury)
14. Actually, '...in fact...' may be a bit too strong. Neither ‘The Arrival’ or Warkworth mention this order, although most near contemporary and modern accounts do. It seems likely in view of what happened later.

NB (3) & (8) will have to wait for now!

Ed. Note: Since Mr. Reboul's biography is not yet included, the reader is referred to P.W. Hammond, The Battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury, Alan Sutton Publishing, 1990, and to the references ocntained therein.

About the Author, in his own words

"I became curious about the battle (and subsequently medieval history), a few years ago when I lived quite near the battlefield,

"I have no relevant historical qualifications, I'm an engineer and a scientist by nature, but once hooked I tried to find out as much as I could about the times and the people involved, which led me to many wonderful, delightful and intriguing things and places. I tend to look at things more as a detective than a historian, but am in the enviable position of having no academic reputation to worry about, and no problems with questioning tradition. In other words, I look at things from unusual perspective and like to suggest, explore and discuss controversial subjects...... I wonder if I'm right about the gravepits?"

Reboul welcomes comment and discussion on this article, either via e-mail to martin.reboul@virgin.net or on the newsgroup soc.history.medieval.

Article text and image copyright 2002 Martin Reboul, all rights reserved. No part may be reproduced, displayed or transmitted electronically or in print without prior written permission of the author