a man well learned in the laws of this land
William or Sir William?
William ‘the Cat’ Catesby was the first-born child of Sir William Catesby, a well-to-do member of the Northamptonshire gentry.1 Although we do not have his precise date of birth, it appears from evidence in respect of his father’s first marriage that William was born sometime around 1440.2 This would have made him about forty-five at the time of his execution in Leicester immediately following the fateful Battle of Bosworth Field.3 It has been a point of dispute as to whether William himself was a knight, as was his father. Indeed, in the Testamenta Vetusta4 we read the entry ‘Sir William Catesby, Knt’, followed by ‘William Catesby, Knight, 1485. My body to be buried at Ashby Ledgers; Margaret, my wife.’ However, a more detailed source, the Dictionary of National Biography5 is emphatic that, although he was an esquire of the royal body, William, unlike his father, was not a knight.6 As a result of this established difference in status, in what follows I shall refer to the father as Sir William, while I shall call his son ‘the Cat’7just William.
Our knowledge about the latter part of William’s life is much more extensive than that of his earliest years. It will help set the context for his childhood and early youth by understanding the career of his father, Sir William, and the strides that he had made in his own life by the time William was born. Sir William’s grandfather, John Catesby, had acquired what was to become the family home at Ashby St Ledgers through marriage to Emma Cranford. It was at this time that the Catesbys moved the short distance from their former home of Ladbroke8 in Warwickshire and took up residence in their new home (see Figure 13).9 Much of our contemporary information about the family comes from their actions in and around the village of Ashby St Ledgers and their memorial brasses in the local church10 (see Figure 15).
The Father of ‘the Cat’
The legal profession certainly appears to have run in the Catesby family. Emma Cranford’s husband, John Catesby, was apparently a lawyer, as was his son (also John). Sir William himself, the latter’s son, was also a lawyer, and we know from Thomas More’s essay on Richard III that William ‘the Cat’ Catesby also followed this family tradition.11 Sir William’s own father died in 1437 when, according to a family tradition, Sir William himself was just short of the age of majority. Like the lawyer that he was, Sir William’s father John had, just before his death, placed a portion of his lands in feoffment in order to avoid Sir William being adjudged a royal ward and having the spoilage of his inheritance that often accompanied this latter status. In this, he was not successful. However, for Sir William, the status of ward turned out to be a very profitable turn of events. He was committed to the keeping of a relative by marriage, a courtier named John Norris, who Payling12 speculates helped find the young Sir William a very advantageous marriage. If he was yet to reach his majority in 1437 and we know that he was married by May of 1442 and, further, we know that his first wife died in 1446, having already produced three children,13 then some time around 1440 seems a reasonable estimate for the birth date of his son, William ‘the Cat’ (see Figure 14).
John Norris seems to have been a good mentor to his young ward. Sir William followed the family tradition and spent time at the Inner Temple, but also established a link with the royal court and was given an annuity of ten pounds in 1442. Around this same time he and his new wife received a papal indult for a portable altar.14 This was clearly a young man now making his way in the world. From a series of records we know that Sir William began to assume a significant position in his now-home county of Northamptonshire. However, there also exist records to show that he was active on the wider stage of events and it is here that a number of the crucial linkages in respect of the present story begin to become evident. As well as giving gifts to leading local personages, in 1447–1448 Sir William is recorded as having sent gifts of fish from his fishpond at Ashby to Humphrey Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and, even more importantly, John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.15 In respect of our present search for the truth of Richard III, we should be aware that Humphrey Stafford was succeeded as Duke of Buckingham by his grandson Henry Stafford, and, critically, Eleanor Butler (née Talbot) was the daughter of John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury. Thus, we have direct evidence that these respective families were in some degree of contact. At this time, Eleanor herself would have been about ten years of age and presumably, still living at home with her family. We should not be overly surprised, however, by such linkages. As an active lawyer and aspiring member of the land-owning gentry, it is unsurprising that Sir William would have made efforts to ingratiate himself with the rich and powerful. The gift of fish may well have been by the way of some form of introduction. Regardless of whether this was an introduction or something less formal, the interaction with John Talbot was to prove rather important to Sir William’s future and, as I propose here, that of his son.
Sir William’s Second Marriage
We know relatively little about William’s mother, and Sir William’s first wife, Phillippa Bishopston. We do know that she helped her husband by bringing him a considerable income. Further, we know that she fulfilled what would then be seen as her principal duty by providing children to carry on the family line. She had, of course, in her first child, produced a male heir. What is most evident is that she died young, almost certainly less than ten years after her marriage and perhaps as little as five. I have suggested that she may have died as a result of complications in childbirth; however, at the present this is simply a speculation which, although apparently reasonable, awaits further clarification.16 What the death of poor Phillippa meant was that Sir William was a widower at a relatively young age and that William had lost his mother at the most impressionable age of between five and eight.
Sir William’s association with the Talbot family seems to have flourished in the years following his first wife’s death. Perhaps the fish worked, because just as John Talbot (see Figure 5) was preparing for what would turn out to be his final military campaign in France in autumn of 1452, he named Sir William as one of his executors.17 At this juncture then, when Eleanor was presumably just taking her first steps into the full marriage state, Sir William Catesby was one of the main advisors to her father. This Talbot connection, which would also assumedly have included some form of social interaction, was perhaps the basis for Sir William himself finding his second wife. As we have seen previously, this second wife was Joan Barre, widow of Sir Kynard de la Bere of Kinnersley in Herefordshire. More directly, she was the daughter of Alice, the youngest sister of the Earl of Shrewsbury and was thus John Talbot’s niece. The best estimate is that Sir William was about thirty-three while Joan was about thirty-one. Obviously, both had been married before and both had living children. It appears that the brother of Joan, Sir John de la Barre, had suggested some form of legal contract and, although Sir William Catesby was willing to provide this, he sought to emphasise that no such formality was really necessary.18 Perhaps it was, in part, a love match second time around? Regardless, it appears that the two were married, most probably on 10 June 1453. It is, of course, pure coincidence that it was almost exactly thirty years to the day before the fateful events which were to take place at the Tower of London.
Like his son who was to follow him, Sir William was an Esquire of the Royal Body and now, in later 1453, he was knighted. Like many in those times, Sir William had to navigate carefully amongst the politics of the respective ascendancy of first, the Lancastrian and then the Yorkist cause. In this, Sir William seems to have been modestly successful, relying largely on his various relations and relationships, and like many others, never investing too deeply or heavily in any one cause such that the other could not see his value when the tide of affairs turned. It must have been a very important phase in the development of his son William who, now in his middle and later teens, must have been a keen observer of such events and strategies. It was perhaps these early experiences that schooled William in the notion of the expediency of switching allegiances as the times and the conditions changed? We have some very tentative evidence that the son, William Catesby, attended the University of Oxford as a student at what would then have been recognised as Gloucester College. This college was founded in 1283 and later in 1560 became Gloucester Hall, which was administered through St John’s College. Eventually, the institution became Worcester College after benefiting from the will of Sir Thomas Cookes.19 At exactly what age William would have been a student at Oxford we do not know but perhaps this was part of his preparation as a lawyer in looking to continue the family tradition?
The swaying vicissitudes of the times eventually seem to have caught up with Sir William, especially around the time of Henry VI’s readeption, which should have been of advantage to him as a previous Lancastrian supporter. However, although well treated, Sir William’s mind seems then to have been more on things spiritual than events temporal. In early January 1471 he was involved with the arrangements for a ceremonial at Ashby St Ledgers to take place on 26 July, which may well have been his birthday. The record of the respective arrangements noted his service to the Talbot family in the late 1440s and early 1450s and especially notes his link to the now deceased John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury. Significantly, it also notes Sir William’s link to Talbot’s second wife, Countess Margaret, and most intriguingly two of their children, John, Viscount Lisle and, most especially, Eleanor Butler,20 the so-called ‘uncrowned queen’ of Edward IV.21
William and his Father
It was at about this time, when William22 was around twenty-one years of age that, probably with the guidance of Sir William, he made a strong marriage in the sense of its important familial linkages. The young lady was Margaret Zouch and she was the daughter of William, Lord Zouche of Harringworth and his second wife, Elizabeth St John. Elizabeth herself was the maternal half-sister of Margaret Beaufort and this may help account for a later conundrum associated with William and his appeal to Margaret Beaufort’s son, Henry VII, in the city of Leicester in late August 1485. Elizabeth, it seems, went on to marry her second husband, Lord Scrope of Bolton, and it was through this association that William received her life interest in some of the Zouche lands in Leicestershire. At the same time (most probably associated with the marriage also), William was the recipient from his father of the Bishopston lands that had come as part of his own mother’s inheritance. It is very possible that this was the essential beginnings of William’s search to build up a territorial hegemony of his own. It might also have been this acquisitiveness that was one of his fundamental motivations for his later recorded actions.
Despite the continuing disputation between the Houses of York and Lancaster, this seems to have been a good time for the Catesbys, pere et fils. Sir William, it seems, had a connection with George, Duke of Clarence, and it was also around this time that the Catesby connection to William, Lord Hastings grew in magnitude and importance. It was perhaps this latter association that saw Sir William again avoid the fall-out from Clarence’s demise and he returned for a final time as the Sheriff of the County of Northamptonshire. Indeed, Sir William died in office in the autumn of 1479 and despite his adaptation to the Yorkist administration, his memorial brass reads, ‘quondam unus trencheatorum Regis Henrici sexti.’ Apparently, his persuasion was Lancastrian to the end.23 (See Figure 15)24
The Rise of ‘the Cat’
To understand the events of the summer of 1483, we need to delve further into the career and aspirations of young William Catesby. While we are still uncertain about his attendance at Oxford, we do know with a degree of certainty that William followed in his father’s footsteps and pursued the family vocation of law at the Inner Temple. We first hear of him as ‘W. Catysby, lectorem,’ discoursing on the nature of the Magna Carta25 and there are some formal records that show his progress in the profession.26 Payling noted that Catesby was most probably unlike the general run of students of the Inner Temple at the time. He had already made a very advantageous marriage and had a considerable income from this source, as well as from the lands his father had given him. Indeed, it is in regard to his wife’s family, the Zouches of Harringworth, and their extended relations, now including Lord Scope of Bolton, that we see William’s penetration into the world of influence.27 It appears as though he could have settled into a life of quiet, country gentility, and yet the impression we get from the legal records of the time is one of his evident ambition.
In the present thesis, it is very important to note that the first ever royal appointment of which we have a record for William Catesby was to a commission of inquiry on 18 May 1473.28 It is not the date per se, but rather the subject of this commission which is particularly important. With others, he was commissioned to make inquiries as to the Warwickshire lands and estates of the late Ralph, Lord Sudeley.29 As we know from the previous chapter, Ralph, Lord Sudeley was Ralph Butler, the father-inlaw to Eleanor Butler (née Talbot). We should also recall that his son and Eleanor’s husband Thomas had died earlier, perhaps from wounds received at the Battle of Blore Heath, fought on 23 September 1459. His daughterin-law, Eleanor, had herself died on 30 June 1468, so Ralph Butler was in the sad situation of seeing at least one branch of his direct family die out completely.30 It was perhaps this lack of a direct heir that indeed led to the commission to which William Catesby was appointed. Given the death of his son and daughter-in-law, it is more than likely that some of the lands around Great Dorsett and Fenny Compton reverted to his control. From investigation of the pattern of land acquisition of William Catesby, we can see that these particular properties lay squarely in the path of the quickly expanding Catesby holdings (see Appendix VI, The Offices and Lands of William Catesby). Thus, the commission represented a pivotal opportunity for William to influence the destiny of some properties that he and his family may well have coveted, perhaps even for decades. For, as we know, the original Catesby family holdings were in Ladbroke, less than five miles from Great Dorsett, and it is likely that their original lands bordered on these manors. The implication is that William must have worked hard to get himself appointed to this commission, potentially with the help of some of his influential relatives.31 Of course, as a local landowner, it may be that this was seen as ‘natural’ appointment. The property eventually found its way by means of the marriage of Lord Sudeley’s sister into the eventual possession of Sir Edward Belknap, whose draconian action, added to the decimation wreaked by an earlier bout of the Black Death, eventually dispelled the glory of Great Dorsett, which continues only as shadow of its past self today.
After the death of his father in 1479, William would have been a very rich man indeed, and had more than enough wealth for the rest of his life. Yet there appears to have been continual and unstinted effort. This acquisitiveness and ambition are reflected in his purchases in the later 1470s and early 1480s of various properties. We have information as to his acquisition of the manors of Oxhill, just a short distance from Ashby St Ledgers, and Tilbrook, just across the county border in Bedfordshire. Indeed, the pattern and development of the acquisition of Catesby’s lands may well give us direct insight into his political motivations.32
Like everyone else’s, Catesby’s world was changed with the death of Edward IV. In his early forties, Catesby saw the main chance for advancement and took it. He was well acquainted with many of the individuals whose influence now came to the fore. Not only was he a trusted advisor to Lord Hastings, he had dealings with Henry Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham, who was taking the emerging opportunity to flex his political muscle. It is most probable that Catesby also knew and interacted with Francis, Lord Lovell, who was arguably the closest friend and advisor of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, having known the duke since childhood.
It was such connections that now brought Catesby to the fore in the tumultuous times of that summer. Ten days after Richard had accompanied his nephew Edward V into London, Catesby was appointed Chancellor of the Earldom of March on 14 May 1483 with an annual fee of forty pounds. This may have been the result of his association with Buckingham, since the earldom was put under the latter’s control the next day, although Roskell attributes this appointment as Richard continuing to curry favour with Hastings by appointing one of his affinity to this advanced office.33 The next day Catesby was made a Justice of the Peace for the first time in his home county of Northamptonshire. One gets the sense of the Protector dispensing offices and asking individuals who they would like their administrators to be. Clearly, an able individual and lawyer such as Catesby rose to the forefront here. In respect of the specific events of Friday 13 June 1483, again our most detailed account comes from More, and it is worth examining his observations on Catesby’s actions around that time. They form the basis for what I shall refer to as the ‘traditional’ account of motivations and events and Catesby’s role in them.
Catesby and the Tradition of Friday 13th
Sir Thomas More, from whom we derive our most detailed account of the critical meeting of the Council on Friday 13 June 1483, is rather complimentary in his initial observations on William Catesby. Whether this is in the nature of a professional courtesy of one lawyer to another or whether More’s opinion is framed rather by the impressions of Morton we shall have to leave largely in abeyance at this point. What we can evaluate are More’s specific words and phrases. With respect to Catesby he notes that:
besides his excellent knowledge of the law (of this land) he was a man of dignified bearing, handsomely featured, and of excellent appearance, not only suitable for carrying out assignments, but capable also of handling matters of grave consequence.”35
In general, this would seem to be approval for Catesby’s skills, capabilities and actions prior to the critical events of that Friday. I think it is fair to take this initial assessment as the general persuasion at that time of a talented, useful but also self-serving administrator. Catesby’s record of appointments by various influential individuals very much seems to confirm that this was the collective opinion.
However, now we come to the events of that fateful Friday and Catesby’s pivotal role in Hastings’s demise. The traditional story has it that Catesby was considered to be almost exclusively of Hastings’s affinity. However, as Roskell pointed out, Catebsy should not be considered solely as Hastings’s servant, given his associations with other highly placed persons. The traditional version relies extensively on More’s account, so let us first proceed on that basis. The circumstance of the split Council does not seem to have worried Hastings especially, because of his reported confidence in Catesby:
Thus many things coming together, partly by chance, partly of purpose, caused at length not common people only, that wave with the wind, but wise men also, and some lords eke, to mark the matter and muse thereon; so far forth that the lord Stanley, that was after earl of Derby, wisely mistrusted it, and said unto the lord Hastings, that he much misliked these two several councils. ‘For while we (quod he) talk of one matter in the tone place, little wot we whereof they talk in the tother place.’ ‘My lord, (quod the lord Hastings) on my life never doubt you. For while one man is there which is never thence, never can there be thing once minded that should sound amiss toward me, but it should be in mine ears ere it were well out of their mouths.’ This meant he by Catesby, which was of his near secret counsel, and whom he very familiarly used, and in his most weighty matters put no man in so special trust, reckoning himself to no man so lief, sith he well wist there was no man to him so much beholden as was this Catesby; which was a man well-learned in the laws of this land, and by the special favor of the lord chamberlain, in good authority; and much rule bare in all the county of Leicester, where the lord chamberlain’s power chiefly lay.
Having reported this, we now turn to More’s surmise about the reasons for Catesby’s actions. In respect of his approach to Hastings concerning his position on Richard’s aspiration for the throne, More is characteristically ambiguous.36 He reported that:
So surely thought he (Hastings) that there could be none harm toward him in that council intended where Catesby was. And of truth the protector and the duke of Buckingham made vert good semblance unto the lord Hastings, and kept him much in company. And undoubtedly the protector loved him well, and loath was to have lost him, saving for fear lest his life should have quailed their purpose. For which cause he moved Catesby to prove with some words cast out afar off, whether he could think it possible to win the lord Hastings into their party. But Catesby, whether he assayed him or assayed him not, reported unto them that he found him so fast, and heard him speak so terrible words, that he durst no further break. And of truth the lord chamberlain, of very trust, showed unto Catesby the mistrust that other began to have in the matter. And therefore he, fearing lest their motions might with the lord Hastings minish his credence, whereunto only all the matter leaned, procured the protector hastily to rid him. And much the rather, for that he trusted by his death to obtain much of the rule that the lord Hastings bare in his county; the only desire whereof was the allective that induced him to be partner and one special contriver of all this horrible treason.
Note that the way More approaches this issue is exactly the same way in which he later does in respect of the burial place of the princes. In this way, More describes a situation and its natural alternative, thus allowing him to cover the whole field of possibilities.37 In the present case it is found in the phrase, ‘But Catesby, whether he assayed him or assayed him not, reported unto them that he found him so fast, and heard him speak so terrible words, that he durst no further break.’ The overall tenor of the comment is that Catesby did approach Hastings and that he received a negative response, which subsequently sealed Hastings’ fate. What is not explained is: who identified and approached Catesby as the go-between if he did actually act as the conduit between Richard and Hastings in this case? Who was it who thought that Catesby would be the right individual, and what gave them the belief that he would carry this through in adherence to their own strategy and not continue to support the person who was supposedly his major patron? On this issue, More is silent. Further, when did this purported approach take place? If Hastings was happy to reassure Lord Stanley about Catesby’s fidelity, he surely cannot have made this statement after Catesby’s approach. However, where is the time for Catesby to approach Hastings privately if the timeline More identifies is correct? It suggests the morning of the 13th at the very latest, but there is precious little time to achieve this at all in any practical manner. It is one of the many problems of taking More at face value.
However, if we do take More at his word, in a strict sense Catesby acted only as a messenger in this matter.38 Thus it is important to understand why some writers interpret his actions as ‘betraying’ Hastings. Roskell is in no doubt when he observes that ‘Catesby climbed over the body of his patron [Hastings] into possession of certain of his posts.39 It is, indeed, undeniable, as we shall see, that Catesby did accrue great benefit from the fall of Hastings. However, from this traditional account it is hard to see why. Were all of the rewards he received just for simply conveying a message? And, importantly, we must remember that if Richard charged him with trying to persuade Hastings to join with himself and others, Catesby’s mission was essentially a failure. Given this ‘failure,’ it is more than puzzling then that the level of remuneration he was given for his ‘service’ was so great. Indeed, the vast rewards he did receive argue for a much greater level of service that he rendered to the then-Protector (and see Appendix VI).
Thus Hastings fell. More thought Catesby was motivated to assist with his execution, implying that Catesby believed he had lost Hastings’ trust and favour. Of course, if ‘he assayed him not’, this whole motive is obviated. While it might be true that Catesby lost something of Hastings’ confidence, it is hard to see this as the sole reason why Catesby should seek the complete removal of his patron. For surely Hastings would most probably have been replaced with another potential overlord, who might not have treated him with the same level of consideration. Thus, as will become evident, I believe there is something much more involved here than Catesby being just a mere messenger who had been chosen for the role of a conduit from Richard of Gloucester, with whom Catesby seems to have little to do, to Edward IV’s boon companion William, Lord Hastings, his previous, strong sponsor.
‘The Cat’ and the Cream
The vast preponderance of evidence shows that William, Lord Hastings was executed on 13 June 1483.40 I think therefore, the primary question which follows is – cui bono? In simple terms, who benefited most from Hastings’ removal? More argued that Richard benefited most of all because the events of that day helped remove some of the primary supporters of Edward V who were not directly from the Woodville extended family. These individuals included Morton, Rotherham and Stanley. The three named were major players, it is true, but other individuals, whose story will also be considered in more detail later, were immediately affected by these actions and events at the Tower. Thus More interpreted Hastings’ demise as a pivotal opportunity for, and therefore as representative of, Richard’s manifest bid for the throne. This interpretation is, I believe, largely incorrect. However, as we are presently focusing on William Catesby, let us see what the immediate effect was on his personal circumstances.41 In respect to the fall of Hastings, William Catesby did very well indeed. Shortly following Hastings’ execution, he was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, Chamberlain of the Receipts and Constable of the Castle and Master Forester of Rockingham, as well as being named steward of certain Crown lands in Northamptonshire. Each of these were offices formerly held solely or primarily by Lord Hastings. As Roskell chose to put it, ‘Catesby climbed over the body of his patron into possession of certain of his posts.’ In addition to these vestiges of Hastings’ preferments, Richard made Catesby Esquire of the Body and a full member of Council. It is thus very evident that Catesby benefited enormously, and, for a mere messenger, disproportionately from the death of his previous mentor,42 especially when compared to almost anyone else involved in the actions which occurred on the morning of Friday 13 June. An important accounting of Catesby’s various gains has recently been given in some detail.43 In consequence, only brief synopses of those gains that he made during Richard’s formal reign are given here (a fuller listing appears in Appendix VI).
As well as all the offices and preferments noted above, Catesby began to reap the benefits of his new-found authority virtually from the moment of his appointments by Richard and the recognition of his new authority by others. For example, one week following Hastings’ execution, Catesby, along with others, was appointed as an overseer of the wardship and marriage of Edward, son and heir of John Stafford, late Earl of Wiltshire. As we have heard earlier concerning the wardship of William’s own father, such a position could well prove very profitable to those so appointed.
My central thesis is that Catesby clearly profited the most from Hastings’ removal. However, there are some indications that people had begun to recognise Catesby’s ascending star even before the events of the 13th. For example, when Earl Rivers drew up his final will and testament at Pontefract Castle in Yorkshire on the 24 June, he named Catesby as one of his five executors. As we have previously seen, it took approximately four days for messages to travel from London to York, and if the warrants for the executions of Rivers, Vaughan and Grey had come north with Ratcliffe, who left on the 11th, it is uncertain whether the news of Hastings’ execution could have reached Rivers before his own demise.44
Catesby seemed also to profit from the immediate aftermath of the events at the Tower in other ways. A companion, and perhaps rival lawyer, under the patronage of Hastings was John Forster. I contend that he was a rival because I think Catesby manoeuvered to have him arrested in the general fall-out after the fateful Council meeting. Forster was apparently held in the Tower without food or water and was, under this compulsion, forced to sign over to Catesby his appointment as steward to the estates and manors of the Benedictine Abbey of St Albans, a post which he had held since June 1471, and apparently a position that Catesby coveted. If Forster thought such acquiescence was going to provide him with an overall amnesty he was wrong. In fact, he was detained at the Tower from 13 June 1483 until 10 March 1484. However, we can infer that by complying with Catesby’s demand he was at least then provided food and water.
Forster was not the only individual in desperate straights with whom Catesby now exerted leverage. Sir Richard Haute, who was purportedly also executed alongside Rivers,45 also drew up his will with Catesby as an executor. Catesby used his skills to bargain and cajole some of Sir Richard’s lands in exchange for the manor of Welton in Northamptonshire, which is what he clearly wanted in the first place.46 Catesby had to engage in some legal legerdemain in order to secure what he wanted, but it is evident that he succeeded.47
At the time of Richard’s coronation in July 1483, the promise of a renewed stability and a more certain future must have seemed reasonably reassuring after the tumult of the early summer. The new king was relatively young, but already well tested in battle. Married with a young son, Richard’s only viable rival was an ill-supported exile whose prospects for success were, at this juncture, considered remote at best. Although there were stirrings of discontent, Buckingham’s revolt had yet to materialise and Richard began his formal progress around his new realm. Catesby had a formal role in the coronation itself, where he reportedly bore the mantle and cap of estate in the vigil procession.48 The late summer of 1483 was a busy time for Catesby. He must have been working rather hard to come to terms with the responsibilities of the new offices he had secured. We might also reasonably assume that later in 1483 he would have also been working to prepare for the upcoming Parliament, which was scheduled to begin on 6 November of that year, only to be disrupted by Buckingham’s rebellion and the associated unrest. He was, of course, subsequently the Speaker of Richard’s only Parliament when it did convene from 23 January until 22 February 1484.49 He was elected by the Members as the collective choice for Speaker and presented to the king on 26 January, with whom Richard ‘was well content.’ His appointment may well have been a done deal before Parliament even convened.
As well as his official duties, Catesby did not neglect to ensure the advancement of his own interests. Presumably, and wherever possible, he would have seen to it that the two coincided as much as was feasible. Indeed, as we know from his prior behaviour, he was an ambitious and acquisitive individual and his new appointments must have provided an expanded vista for realising his greater ambitions. For example, by early August he was serving as a Justice of the Peace for the contiguous counties of Gloucestershire, Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Northamptonshire and Leicestershire. It was, of course, no coincidence that his major land holdings were to be found in these respective counties. In late September and early October, Catesby was involved in further accumulations, as documented in the Harleian Manuscript 433,50 and it was at this time that he gained part-control over the manor of Stanford in Northamptonshire as well as properties in nearby Oxfordshire. As I have tried to demonstrate, these acquisitions were not necessarily the random accumulations of a grasping member of the nouveau riche. Rather, they formed part of a systematic programme of acquisitions that looked to build a strong and contiguous region of influence. One could potentially make the argument that the holdings of both Hastings and subsequently Buckingham served to thwart this effort, at least until the time that they were each respectively executed. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that Catesby looked to engineer the downfall of both of these individuals in order to facilitate his longer-term plans. However, this speculation is based almost completely upon the spatial distribution of lands and, at present, I can find no original documentary evidence to support this proposition.
As a result of his role in various proceedings, we actually know quite a lot about Catesby’s actions during Richard’s reign. For example, we know that despite his earlier association with Buckingham, Catesby was very much a supporter of King Richard during the unrest of October and November 1483. As such, he reaped significant rewards which were derived from those found to be in rebellion. The lands that he obtained following the rebellion from Buckingham alone amounted to almost £300 in value, an enormous sum in those days.51 He was also named to a number of commissions to look at the actions of various traitors which met at Exeter on 13 November 1483. Significant in light of later events, Catesby was granted an annuity of five marks for ‘goodwill and counsel’ on 17 December, given by none other than Thomas, Lord Stanley. This was the same man who less than two years later stood by and watched Catesby be executed, despite pleading for his life.
By this time, it must have been clear that Catesby was a major power in the land, and this elevation would have been even further reinforced by Catesby’s pivotal role as the elected Speaker in the January Parliament.52 For it was during this Parliament that a number of critical resolutions were enacted. The first was the resolution of the question of Richard’s legitimacy. It was here that the reasons for Richard being rightful king were explicated. Following this a number of attainders were promulgated against those who had participated in Buckingham’s rebellion. Further, Richard was granted the tonnage and poundage of the wool subsidies for life. This generous arrangement ensured the king an ample and continuing source of income. Although, unusually, Catesby did not himself benefit in a direct financial manner, his various accumulations continued. His in-laws granted him further manors in Northamptonshire, as did his control of the son of John Acton. However, it was the statements concerning Richard’s claim to the throne in theTitulus Regius which are of particular interest.
It has been implied by a number of commentators that Robert Stillington must have had a large hand in the formulation of the legislation and writing of and declarations in the Titulus Regius. However, I think it is much more plausible and convincing that Catesby was the primary architect of this document. This proposition is based on two fundamental points. First, Catesby was a lawyer and the Titulus Regius was essentially a legal document. Second, as Speaker, Catesby would have had a direct hand in the processes and procedures of Parliament, not just its content. That is, he would have had a major role in passing any legislation as opposed to just framing it. Even if Stillington did participate in the document’s creation, someone must have had a significant role in passing it through Parliament. Although I suspect there would not have been much in the way of direct objection, a Speaker who was also a lawyer must have had a critical say in what transpired. I am unaware of any evidence that Stillington himself attended this Parliament, but I think it is more than reasonable to assume that, as Speaker, Catesby must have certainly been present in person. It is in the Titulus Regius that we find the primary source of evidence that names Eleanor Butler, née Talbot, as the lady to whom Edward IV had pre-contracted himself. It is to this issue that I shall necessarily return at the end of this work.
The remainder of Richard’s short reign is dotted with references to Catesby’s prospering career and advancement. He was a member of numerous commissions and one of the four principal negotiators with respect to a peace treaty with Scotland, which also considered the potential marriage of the son of Scotland’s James III with Richard’s niece, Anne de la Pole. Written evidence of Richard’s partiality to Catesby still exists and Figure 16 is an example illustration of that fact. Thus, it is clear that Catesby remained high in the esteem of his monarch, but the evidence which has cemented Catesby’s reputation for favour by the king and, indeed, the one that has principally served to establish his name in history, derives from just one piece of doggerel, which was most certainly meant as a direct insult. It is the rhyme attributed to William Colyngbourne and it is to this evidence I now turn.
‘The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog’
Some time around 18 July 1484,53 a rhyme attributed to William Colyngbourne54 was pinned to the door of St Paul’s Cathedral. It read:
The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog
Rule all England under an Hog.55
The implication was direct and unequivocal. In simple terms it stated that Catesby, Ratcliffe and Lovell had the management of England under Richard, whose badge was the White Boar. I should like to treat this remarkable couplet in a little more than ordinary detail, since I think such a perusal will repay the effort. First, one must know that Colyngbourne was accused and convicted of being an agent of Henry Tudor and his subsequent execution was for this betrayal and not for supposedly authoring this couplet.56 We are not dealing here with suppression of free speech. The primary accusation was that Colyngbourne had tried to second and bribe one Thomas Yate into taking a message to Henry Tudor, urging the latter to land and invade, as well as telling the exile that Richard was dealing in false faith with the authorities in France, where it was claimed Richard meant to invade himself. It was some months later at the Guildhall in early December that Colyngbourne’s case was heard and here he was condemned to death.
Colyngbourne met the gruesome fate reserved for traitors in the late Middle Ages: he was hanged, drawn and quartered. Executed on Tower Hill, Fabyan reports that he was ‘cut down, being alive and his bowels ripped out of his belly and cast into the fire there by him, and lived till the butcher put his hand into the bulk of his body, insomuch that he said at the same instant, “O Lord Jesus, yet more trouble,” and so died.’57 And although it seems fairly clear that Colyngbourne was finally condemned for his more serious seditious actions, it is his rhyme that lives in the historical memory. So let us look at this rhyme in a little more detail.
On the face of it, the rhyme was insulting, but it was more than that. Referring to the king as ‘an hog’ was certainly an injudicious thing to do in those times, but the attribution in relation to Richard’s emblem is essentially correct. What I find of particular interest is the first line. If we take Colyngbourne’s rhyme at face value and, in light also of observations made by Thomas More, we can argue that Catesby was the primus inter pares of the triumvirate of himself, Lovell and Ratcliffe.58 It might not be overstating the case to suggest that he actually exerted the greatest level of day-to-day influence under the then-Protector and subsequently crowned monarch. Such a conclusion is buttressed by the bitter observation of the Croyland Chronicler who, concerning Catesby’s own execution, stated:
there was also taken prisoner William Catesby, who was preeminent along all the counselors of the late king, and whose head was cut off at Leicester, as a last reward for his excellent service.59
The conclusion that we seem justified in drawing is that Catesby had reached the position of first minister. Again, we have to recall that Catesby had been at best a minor figure upon the death of Edward IV some twoand-a-half years earlier, and in the interim he had risen to become arguably the second most important political figure in the realm, after the king. This can only have been under the direct sponsorship of Richard and, as Catesby was not one of his northern affiliation and most probably not a long-time friend or colleague, it argues strongly that he had performed a signal and perhaps unprecedented service to his king. As I have suggested, I think this concerned his revelation of the pre-contract and Hastings’ prior knowledge of it through Catesby, and perhaps, of course through, Edward IV himself.
As we have here strayed quite far into the realm of speculation, perhaps one last observation can be forgiven. I think the first line is in some way also descriptive. As Reynard is the term often associated with a fox, so Lovell was a term so associated with a dog. It seems to imply that Lovell was in some ways Richard’s ‘lap dog.’ Perhaps a similar relation was argued for Ratcliffe as having the attributes of a ‘rat.’ This would leave the first mentioned, Catesby, as possessing the character of a cat. Perhaps in these terms Catesby was seen as cunning and occasionally playing with people as cats are wont to play with mice. If these interpretations hold any degree of validity, the rhyme is not merely insulting on its surface, it is cunningly seditious against the leading cadre of the day, as indeed it would appear it was meant to be.60 But Catesby’s pre-eminence, even in this brief piece of doggerel, is suggestive of just how high he had climbed. If we have asked the question cui bono, who benefited most from the fall of Hastings, the name William Catesby must come out on the very top of that list. When looking for motivations for actions, the subsequent degree of advantage gained is a most telling clue.
Bosworth and Beyond
Throughout the short reign of Richard III, William Catesby did very well. Indeed, the epitome of his power was, if we are to believe the Croyland Chronicler, expressed most clearly in the matter of Richard’s potential wedding with his niece, Elizabeth of York. Sadly, Richard had lost his son and legitimate heir, Edward Plantagenet, who died on 9 April 1484. To pile further tragedy on an already crippling loss, Richard’s wife, Anne Neville, died on 16 March 1485. Despite Richard’s personal grief, such circumstances must have inevitably brought into question the issue of succession. Croyland suggests that Richard considered marrying his own niece. It is worth reading this allegation in his own words:
Eventually the king’s plan and his intention to marry Elizabeth, his close blood-relation, was related to some who were opposed to it and, after the council had been summoned, the king was compelled to make his excuses at length saying that such a thing had never entered his mind. There were some at that council who knew well enough that the contrary was true. Those who were most strongly against this marriage and whose wills the king scarcely ever dared to oppose were in fact Sir Richard Ratcliffe and William Catesby, squire of the body. These men told the king, to his face, that if he did not deny any such purpose and did not counter it by public declaration before the mayor and commonalty of the city of London, the northerners, in whom he placed the greatest trust, would all rise against him, charging him with causing the death of the queen, the daughter and one of the heirs of the earl of Warwick and through whom he had obtained his first honour, in order to complete his incestuous association with his near kinswoman, to the offence of God. In addition they brought in over a dozen doctors of theology who asserted that the Pope had no power of dispensation over that degree of consanguinity. It was thought by many that these men and others like them put so many obstacles in the way through fear that if the said Elizabeth attained the rank and dignity of queen it might be in her power, sometime, to avenge the death of her uncle, Earl Anthony and of her brother, Richard, upon those who had been the principal counselors in the affair. Shortly before Easter, therefore, the king took his stand in the great hall at St John’s [The Hospital of St John of Jerusalem] in the presence of the mayor and the citizens of London and in a clear, loud voice carried out fully the advice to make a denial of this kind – as many people believed, more by the will of these counselors than by his own.61
This story is interesting for a number of reasons. For us here, it argues that Catesby had grown powerful indeed. If he and Ratcliffe were such that they were individuals ‘whose wills the king scarcely ever dared to oppose’ then the Northamptonshire lawyer had risen high indeed. The second dimension of this commentary implies that Ratcliffe and Catesby (among others) opposed the match because they feared that as queen, Elizabeth of York might seek revenge on them for the death of her relations. However, for Catesby, such a fear would surely have been largely groundless because at the time Elizabeth of York’s uncle and step-brother were condemned, Catesby was yet to join the affinity of Richard III. It is true that Ratcliffe may have been concerned, and, as his relation, Catesby may have feared for him, but what I see here is something more like rumour elevated beyond its actuality. It seems somewhat unlikely that Richard would have sought to marry his niece and the rumour may have arisen as a result of the actions of Henry Tudor, who, in promising to marry Elizabeth himself, was trying to garner support within the realm. The political view would have had Richard’s marriage to Elizabeth ‘block’ this manoeuvre by Tudor. However, it seems more probable that Richard never had such an intention and his eventual agreement to issue a public statement of denial to that effect may well have been urged by his advisors who saw him in jeopardy of losing vital popular support because of this gossip. It is apparent that the political rumour mill is not an invention of the modern media but rather an age-old human institution in which gossip is often purported to be fact; that Catesby and others advised Richard to deny this in public is not at all unlikely. Modern poitical campaign managers direct their candidates in a similar manner even today. If he did so, it does reinforce Catesby’s power and position. However, we must be careful in giving credence to stories that so clearly are meant to disparage.
Several commentators have suggested that Catesby must have engendered a degree of envy and even hatred as he went on this meteoric rise to the very pinnacle of society, and indeed this jealousy might well have occurred independently of Catesby’s apparently avaricious actions. The end for William Catesby came quickly and tragically, immediately following Richard’s own fall on the battlefield at Bosworth. It is one of Shakespeare’s most quoted lines, and is often incorrectly articulated as, ‘The first thing we should do is kill all lawyers.’62 Although Shakespeare used the line in a different context, we cannot help but think of the lawyer Catesby and his immediate dispatch upon the ascendancy of the throne by Henry VII as perhaps the original stimulus for this thought. What we know about the battle traditionally referred to as Bosworth Field is lamentably little,63 although recent archeological efforts promise to provide us with greater insight. Apparently, the battle itself was of a relatively short, two-hour duration, especially in comparison with some of its peers like Towton. During this interval, the Duke of Norfolk lost his life, a number of other notables were killed and King Richard himself ‘died manfully in the press of his enemies.’ The preponderance of evidence places Catesby alongside Richard at Bosworth and we have a similar degree of certainty as to Catesby’s capture following cessation of hostilities. We know that Catesby was a lawyer and, given his early training, it seems unlikely that he would have taken a significant part in the fighting itself. This begs the question of Catesby’s role on the battlefield. To my knowledge, there is no specific evidence at all as to Catesby’s activities on the 22 August 1485. We know that there were relatively few executions following the period of conflict. The great exception was William Catesby. We know of his execution, which took place in Leicester three days following the battle on 25 August 1485.64 We do possess his last will and testament which, because of its importance, I have reproduced here in full:
Thy sys the Wille of William Catesby esquyer made the XXV day of August the first yere of King Henry the VIIth tobo executed by my dere and Welbelovid wiff to whom I have ever be trewe of my body putting my sole trust in herr for the executione thereof for the welthe of my soule the which I am undowted she will execute: as for my body, whan she may, [it is] tobe buried in the churche of Saynt legger in Aisby [Ashby St Ledgers, Northamptonshire] and to do suche memorialles for me as I have appoynted by for. And to restore all londes that I have wrongfully purchasid and to pay the residue of suche lond as I have boughte truly and to deviene yt among herr childrene and myne as she thinkithe good after herr discrecione. I doute not the King wilbe good and gracious Lord to them, for he is callid a full gracious prince. And I never offended hym by my good and Free Will; for god I take my juge I have ever lovid hym. Item: that the executours of Nicholas Cowley have the lond agayn in Evertoft withoute they have their C.li. Iterm: in like wise Revellhis lond in Bukby. Item: in like wise that the coopartioners have their part in Rodynhalle in Suff. [sic] in we have right thereto or els tobe restored to themthat had yt befor. Item: in like wise the londes in Brownstone if the parte have right that hadd yt befor. And the londes besides Kembalone bye disposid for my soule and Evertons and so of all other londes that the parte hathe right Iue. Item: that all my Fader dettes and bequestes be executed and paid as to the hous of Catesby and other. Item: that my lady of Bukingham have C.li. to halp herr children and that she will se my lordes dettes paid and his will executed. And In especialle in suche lond as shold be amortesid to the hous of Plasshe. Item: my Lady of Shaftisbury XL marke. Item: that John Spenser have his LX li withe the olde money that I owe. Item: that Thomas Andrews have his XX Li. And that all other bequestes in my other will be executed as my especialle trust is in you masteres Magarete And I hertly cry you mercy if I have delid uncurtesly withe you. And ever prey you leve sole and all the dayes of your liff to do for my soule. And ther as I have, be executour I besech you se the Willes executed. And pray lorde [bishop of] Wynchester [Winchester] my lord [bishop] of Worcetour [Woucester] my lord [bishop] of London’ to help you to execute this my will and they will do sume what for me. And that Richard Frebody may have his XX li. agayne and Badby X li. or the londes at Evertons and ye the X li. And I pray you in every place se cleiernese in my soule and pray fast and I shall for you and Ihu [Jesus] have mercy uponne my soule Amen.
My lordis Stanley, Strange and all that blod help and pray for my soule for ye have not for my body as I trusted in you. And if my issue reioyce [sic] my londes I pray you lete maister Johne Elton have the best benefice. And my lord lovell come to grace than that ye shew to hym that he pray for me. And uncle Johanne remembrer my soule as ye have done my body; and better. And I pray you se the Sadeler Hartlyngtone be paid in all other places.
There are numerous important points which arise from Catesby’s last words. Some of these have been raised by Richardson,65 who, in a similar vein to many commentators, writes:
The chief interest for this historian in Catesby’s brief, last document lies first, in an apparently pointless plea to Henry Tudor … And the opening sentence of in the … final paragraph which reads ‘My Lords, Stanley, Strange … help and pray for my soul for ye have not for my body as I trusted in you.’ Why did he trust in the Stanleys? … And what possible reason could Catesby have had to expect decent treatment … from a man as mean and vengeful as Henry Tudor?
We can, potentially, address these and other issues that arise from this fascinating document. For example, one of the lines that especially stands out in discussions concerns Catesby’s ‘abject’ appeal to Henry VII, presumably to save his life. As with Richardson’s perplexity, it has often been seen to reflect the grovelling of a very desperate man. Indeed, this is certainly a reasonable interpretation for, as we now know, Catesby was in extremis. However, there is another aspect to this appeal beyond the clear grovelling. As noted earlier, the mother of William’s wife was the half-sister of Henry’s mother. Thus, in this way, they might be considered fairly close family. It is doubtful that Catesby had ever met with Tudor, although it is reported that Catesby had been sent to Brittany in September 1484, possibly to secure Tudor as a captive. Thus the appeal was unlikely to be on a personal basis. However, it is most probably through his family connections that Catesby talks of having ‘ever loved him’ and by his good and free will having ‘never offended him.’ If we take this as more than the pleadings of a condemned man, then perhaps William’s assertions are not quite as grovelling as they are often construed. In fact, they may represent indications that William Catesby was quite ready to transfer his adherence to Henry Tudor from Richard III as he had been from William, Lord Hastings to Richard in the first place. The appeal here may be more subtle than a number of commentators suspect. Perhaps this is in part the answer to Richardson’s explicit question as to why Catesby hoped he might be treated by Henry Tudor with some leniency. As we know, he was wrong.
Richardson goes on to ask why Catesby expected help at the hands of the Stanleys, pere et fils, and why he should trust them. To this I think there are also substantive answers. Let us deal firstly with the trust placed in Lord Strange, the son of Lord Stanley. Three days before Catesby penned his last will and testament, he had stood with Richard facing the armies of Tudor and the Stanley forces. When Richard called upon Lord Stanley to join with him he received no positive response. Upon threatening to execute Lord Strange who was held by him as hostage, Stanley is supposed to have returned the ominous reply that he ‘had more sons.’ At this juncture, this would seem to state a definite intent and things must have looked very black for Lord Strange. Yet we know he survived the battle and perhaps we can now speculate as to why. It is my suggestion that Catesby, being a lawyer and probably no fighter, was put in charge of Strange. My expectation is that his orders were to execute Strange the moment that Stanley joined in the battle on Tudor’s side. However, being in a prudent and legal way of thinking Catesby hedged his bets. I suspect that he held off this task and waited for the outcome of the battle. If Stanley did prove a traitor and Richard won, it would be short work to remove Strange’s head as Richard returned to his camp. If however, Richard lost, the promise of leniency to Strange may have been seen by Catesby as a possible bargaining chip. Thus, he placed his trust in Lord Strange to the benefit of both father and son, but as we know this trust was misplaced, as Catesby bitterly lamented in the last paragraph of his will.
However, I think there is more. Not only was Catesby a benefactor to the Stanleys on that fateful day of 22 August 1485, I believe he was also instrumental in preserving Lord Stanley on 13 June 1483. From the accounts of the Council meeting, blows were apparently aimed at Stanley by those rushing into the council chamber and he sustained some hurt while sheltering under the table. I believe the preservation of his life was facilitated by Catesby in the immediate aftermath of the in-flow of guards into the chamber. I suspect that Catesby had some words with Richard to the effect that the primary concern was Hastings and that Stanley, although the possessor of suspicious motives, was not the principal target of concern that day. Indeed, we know that Stanley later made Catesby an annuity of five marks for ‘goodwill and counsel’ and granted him the manor of Kimbolton in Huntingdonshire on 17 December 1483. It was not the greatest of gifts possible but it seems to suggest some degree of concordance between these two individuals. I suspect that Catesby viewed Stanley to be in his debt for his action in ‘saving’ Lord Strange, but also for his previous actions some two years and two months before. I suspect this, but I cannot show it, that the reference to the unpaid gratitude due Catesby from Stanley then refers to his act of dissuading Richard from more severe action against Stanley that day in the Tower. Although I cannot prove it, the suspicion is there. The fact that later Henry VII had the brother of Lord Stanley, Sir William Stanley executed is of small consolation, and none for the scared and quickly beheaded Catesby.
So, as with the son, Catesby was also badly mistaken about the father, for the Stanleys were ever the ultimate betrayers. William Catesby was facing immediate execution but I think in his last hours he could not help but record his anger and bitterness against the Stanleys, a bitterness that still echoes across the centuries.
However, the central question still remains: why did Catesby have to die and why was he executed with such dispatch? As Payling cogently noted, Catesby was ‘the only man of importance to suffer death among those captured in the battle.’66 We must here understand why. After all, many individuals more directly involved with the actual fighting seemed to have incurred only minimal penalties. It has been argued that Catesby’s acquisitiveness, which was evidently exhibited throughout the reign of Richard III, had made him many enemies who, in the aftermath of Bosworth, took their chance to get revenge. There may be an element of truth in this assertion. Catesby’s relatively humble origins and his ascendency to great power must have caused considerably jealousy. However, was this sufficient to single him out? After all, he would be personally unknown to the likes of the Earl of Oxford, but especially Henry Tudor, who now held the reins of power. His demise suggests there was something more than just personal antipathy or individual jealousy involved here. His execution, conducted so quickly after the cessation of hostilities, is suggestive of a more important political expediency. In general, as Henry Tudor sought to establish his authority in his new realm, it would appear sensible to found his reign on the rule of law, especially as his hold on the throne was so tenuous. His action in declaring his reign as dating from the day before Bosworth was indeed a more than ambivalent one, setting a precedent Henry might well have regretted. However, in general his actions following the battle are those one might expect of a new king. There is perhaps a danger here of attributing to Henry Tudor those very characteristics that have been attributed to Richard and against which so many have argued. Given this, perhaps we might seek another reason for the untoward haste of William Catesby’s death.
I believe the primary reason that he lost his head is because of what he knew. And what could he have known that would have threatened the new regime? It could only be something relevant to the succession and thus the hopes and stability of Henry VII, now only three shaky days into his reign. I believe it was Catesby’s knowledge of the certainty of the pre-contract and thus the illegitimate status of Elizabeth of York that threatened so much. After all, Henry had promised to marry her in the hope of legitimising his own very tenuous claim to the throne. If she was illegitimate, even after the marriage there would be large numbers of individuals with better claim to the throne than Henry and his new wife. Later in this work, I shall look into what this might have meant to her brothers also. However, I think it was this certain knowledge and potentially some written proof of it that proved the death of William Catesby.
The Catesby Memorial
Following his execution in Leicester, the body of William Catesby was returned to Ashby St Ledgers and assumedly interred in a grave site, presumably somewhere adjacent to the high altar. Yet his memorial brass was not laid at that time.67 Nine years later saw the death of his wife Margaret, but even then the memorial does not appear to have been finished. What we have today as the final version of this completed memorial brass is shown in Figure 17. The particular element showing William Catesby in detail is given in Figure 18.
Figure 18 shows a close-up of Catesby’s head and in large part it is a stylised representation, but if we have to interpret, as presumably the artist did, then it looks like a rather sad and worn visage. Whether or not this representation looked anything like Catesby is now almost impossible to discern. What is much more interesting is the mutilation that has occurred and, as can be seen from the illustration, this takes the form of a posthumous ‘beheading.’ It remains a small source of contention as the actual process by which Catesby was executed. The traditional notion has it that he went under the axe or the sword. However, Kendall contends that he would have been hanged.68 I think, however, it is best to rely more on Croyland who, as noted in a quotation previously given in this chapter, asserted that Catesby had his head cut off. And the vandalism to the brass image seems to confirm this in some small way.69 It is suspected that the brass was laid after 1507 and presumably the damage was done some time after. There may be, of course, a much more prosaic explanation of this defacement, in that it simply represents the actions of some potential thief who, attracted by this wonderful memorial, sought to steal away a valuable piece of history. This may well be possible since the adjacent brass of William’s father, Sir William is now sadly damaged and almost completely gone (see Figure 15).70
The full brass of William Catesby and his wife has been suggested to be a mixture of styles (see Figure 17). The main body seems to have been produced in a workshop known as London ‘G.’ However, the plate at the base of the memorial appears to have come from a much less accomplished set of artisans (see Figure 19).71 The plate itself reads:
Here lies William Catesby, Esquire, and his wife Margaret, the which William died 20th August, 1485, and the aforesaid Margaret died 8th October, 1494, on whose souls many God have mercy.
The two most interesting things about this plate are: first, the incorrect dating of William’s death, and second, the shoddy nature of this plate compared with the rest of the memorial. Concerning the first issue, it has been suggested that the incorrect date is representative of the efforts of some later descendants of William and Margaret to hide the disgrace that came to their forebear following the Battle of Bosworth. This sort of effort was apparently not unprecedented.72 The mutilation of Catesby’s head was perhaps an intentional political statement, with the action itself taken some time during the Tudor period, perhaps during the process of the dissolution of the monasteries. That this may have been no random act of vandalism is founded on the fact that there are precedents for this posthumous disgrace of the individual in a process referred to as damanatio memoriae.73 It is thus possible that this process of defacing the tombs of so-called traitors may have also included removal of the original name plate. If this were the case, the remaining family might have sought to replace the offending plate with something less provocative and more mundane in nature (see Figure 20). Perhaps this was undertaken by Sir Richard Catesby, William’s grandson, or perhaps even a later generation of the family. It is likely that the plate was produced relatively locally since the fabrication is clearly inferior to the rest of the original (see Figure 19). Badham and Saul noted that:
… the inscription as a whole is a poor thing. It is set at an angle to the canopy, the lines are not square to the plate and the lettering is inconsistently formed. Moreover, the two references to William’s wife Margaret have been added later where blanks were originally left; not the sort of omission likely to have been made while she lived.
It seems likely that the Tudor dynasty continued to treat William Catesby as shabbily after his execution, as the founder of that house, Henry Tudor, had in the first place. It is evident from his treatment of the body of Richard III that Henry Tudor had few qualms in this direction. It remains at present unknown whether Catesby ever did possess direct evidence of the pre-contract and whether the subsequent mutilation of his and his wife’s memorial had anything to do with that possibility or whether the defacement was part of a more general expression of disapprobation. Regardless, the brass can be found today alongside the high altar in the church of Ashby St Ledgers, a mute witness to the earthly presence of William ‘the Cat’ Catesby.
A Concluding Summary
William Catesby’s rise to power was nothing short of meteoric. From a solid foundation in the established gentry of middle England, he followed in the family tradition of law and, despite his father’s Lancastrian affiliation and affection, the son had done reasonably well within his own sphere, but primarily advanced though an advantageous marriage. All this changed radically in early June 1483. In the immediate aftermath of the execution of William, Lord Hastings he rose to be among the highest in the land and, arguably, the first counsellor of Richard III. This was a staggering ascendancy to the very pinnacle of power, when such power was most jealously guarded by the nobility who possessed it. Indeed, Catesby remained high in Richard’s favour throughout his reign. Why? What did Richard have to be grateful for? While it is true that someone of Catesby’s capacities might have done well under Richard, he was not one of Richard’s friends, nor one of Richard’s northern followers or of their favoured affiliation. No, what Catesby did for Richard must have been unprecedented. My postulation is that his unprecedented act was to reveal the pre-contract and thus provide Richard with the legitimate path to the throne.74 In the process, I think he manoeuvered to have Hastings eliminated because of Hastings’ sin of omission. Thus Hastings knew of the impediment to the boys but did not reveal it. So Catesby was able to deflect criticism of himself while simultaneously removing the primary barrier to the increase of his conjoined land holdings in the Midlands of England. His plan seems to have worked brilliantly and his star rose accordingly. Indeed, on the day of his execution, Catesby was one of the largest landholders in the Midlands and arguably the whole country.
Catesby’s unprecedented rise was matched by his equally dramatic fall. When the last King of England personally to fight in battle died that day in August 1485, Catesby did not have long to live. He played the meagre cards that remained to him, but neither affection nor affiliation was strong enough to save him. And no-one who put their trust in the Stanleys for too long ever prospered. But for him there was to be no disgrace and imprisonment with the hope for subsequent redemption. No, for Catesby it was the axe. And I think it had to be because he had knowledge and, indeed, perhaps even written documentation, that was just too dangerous to the new administration to be allowed to live. I think he could prove that Richard was legitimate and thus Elizabeth of York and her brothers were illegitimate. I think he had the pre-contract itself, or something representative of it. Henry Tudor was always sensitive to the issue and repressed the Titulus Regius after executing Catesby, its author. I think Henry Tudor feared what documents might appear and it took over a decade for Catesby’s son George to convince the authorities that they now had nothing to fear from the remaining family members. George’s mother, Margaret Zouch, died on 8 October 1494 and was laid alongside her husband near the high altar in Ashby St Ledgers. The reversal of the attainder was achieved in the next Parliament one year later, in October 1495.
I think this sequence is significant. Catesby himself was silenced in 1485, but there was still the fear of documentation (since lawyers through the ages have loved documents). The greatest fear was from the individual closest to Catesby, which was his wife, described by him as ‘my dear and well beloved wife to whom I have ever been true ...’ If anyone had access to such knowledge or such papers, surely it would be her. Yet after a decade, death silenced Margaret Catesby and the tension eased to the extent that her son could begin the formal process of rehabilitation, which occurred at the next feasible opportunity of the next Parliament. This is an hypothesis. I cannot prove it. However, it is a reasonable account that emerges from the facts as we presently know them. Catesby was indeed a lynchpin in the fall of William, Lord Hastings and may have sought to repeat the strategy in relation to Buckingham. However, he was a much more involved character than just the ‘cat’ of Colyngbourne’s rhyme or the background, bit-part player of Shakespeare’s fictional frippery.