It's Really Richard!

Most of you know I'm a bit of a Ricardian at heart.  Last week, I posted about history's bad boys over on Corsets, Cutlasses and Candlesticks.  I'm smitten.

By Richard III.

So I've been following the archaeological dig at Greyfriars in Leicester with avidity.  I paid more attention to the British news articles on it than the Superbowl yesterday.  I almost work myself up in the middle of the night to watch the press conference live.

But this morning, I hesitated to turn on the computer and find out.  I love a good mystery.  I love an underdog--and poor Richard has been vilified for centuries.  I knew I would never be able to avoid knowing altogether, but I kept my eyes closed for a minute or two longer than I normally would.

And it's him.  The fatal wounds found on the skeleton describe a warrior who went down fighting.  The scoliosis in the spine describe a man with a physical challenge, but certainly not the twisted and withered monster Shakespeare gives us.  He was not a big man--the news article I read described his build as "almost feminine".  But they're sure it's him.  Hastily buried in a church that Henry VIII had demolished, so the location was forgotten for centuries.

Now, I'm sure I'm not the only one who hopes that they also find a way to test the bones they have in Westminster Cathedral.  The ones that are claimed to be those of the Princes in the Tower--Richard's nephews, whom he is reputed to have murdered.  And perhaps another mystery can be laid to rest.

Then again, maybe I don't want to know....

If you want to know more, check out this excellent article on the BBC News website.

And this is a fascinating article on archaeological facial reconstruction and an image of what Richard may really have looked like.

Why I Love Britain and the British - Part 3

History.

You knew it was coming, didn't you?  I love English history.  The Saxons and the Romans.  William the Conquerer and Harold. (side note, my first love of English history came from French class, learning about the Bayeux Tapestry (la tapisserie de Bayeux).  Old Harold with the arrow through his eye at the battle of Hastings.  Great stuff.)  The Anarchy of Matilda (or Maud) and Stephen.  King John. Richard II. 

Recently, I've been out touring centuries of English history.  My writing at the moment is all about the Tudors, but I love to get out and explore the rest of the history, too.  I visited a Roman villa, its mosaic floor almost entirely intact in some rooms.  I wandered the air museum at Tangmere and learned about the Battle of Britain.  In the same day.

I went for a two-hour walk through fields and along a canal and ended up at an ancient, crumbling octagonal tower in the middle of almost nowhere.  Odiham Castle, from which King John rode in a snit to set his stamp to the Magna Carta.

But the best part of my journey this trip was to visit Bosworth battlefield.  This is where Richard III lost his crown - the last English king to die in battle - and Henry Tudor picked it up.  The beginning of the Tudor dynasty.  And the end of one of the most maligned figures in history.  The history here is palpable.  The striations on the canon shot discovered in the field.  The belt buckles and clips found after centuries.  And a white boar badge, silver and gilded, worn by one of Richard's loyal followers and lost to the earth that August day in 1485.  I'm not ashamed to say that tears came to my eyes seeing that little piece of ancient metal. 

I love being able to visualize the history.  To strain to hear the sounds of canon fire or smell the smoke in a close castle room.  To look out a window and sweep away the tarmacked streets and cars and see only the rolling hills beyond.  This is why I love to write history, because I can indulge my imagination.

Please join me tomorrow on another little historical trip -- Nicole About Town is kicking off the Tudor Tuesdays blog tour with a post about Catherine of Aragon and an excerpt from GILT.  Please drop by!