Welcome to another edition of ‘Hiraeth’ from me, Nathen Amin.
Hiraeth is a Welsh word that means a longing for the past, for places, people and a time we can no longer reach. In this regular newsletter, I try my best to explore that past. If you’d like to learn more, please consider subscribing to get all posts, videos, talks, reviews and more directly to your inbox - and best of all - it’s FREE!
Today is the 541st anniversary of the Battle of Bosworth, a seismic day that changed the course of English, Welsh, and later British history forever. Henry Tudor, an ‘unknown Welshman’ of modest English royal lineage, usurped the throne of Richard III. On a rural Leicestershire field, one king was unmade, and another made.
Richard, we are told, ‘like a brave and most valiant prince’ fighting ‘manfully in the thickest press of his enemies’, was brutally slain in a frenzied attack, his corpse degraded in death. In his place stood a new king, a man ‘without power, without money, without right to the crown of England’ according to one observer, but who was now Henry VII.
In Welsh mythology, the dragon was associated with the Son of Prophecy, Y Mab Darogan, the much awaited national deliverer who was anticipated by the bards to come save the people from tyranny.
“draig ffawd ffyst gychwyned” (the fated Dragon, quick to rise).
Henry Tudor’s main standard at the Battle of Bosworth prominently featured the red dragon, associated with the 7th century King of the Britons, Cadwaladr, who he claimed as an ancestor. He was the fated dragon, it was proposed, the Son of Prophecy.
Bosworth wasn’t just about Henry Tudor or Richard III, of course. Thousands of men put their lives on the line that day, whether for a sense of duty, loyalty, fear, reward or for a cause they believed in. Some were great nobles, many paid mercenaries, and others simple farmhands caught up in a quarrel that likely had little effect on their daily lives. War was, and is, anything but glorious.
It also wasn’t just about the men. Everyone who took part had women who anxiously awaited their safe returns, mothers, partners, sisters, daughters. When some had said goodbye, they did not yet know they would never see their men again. For Margaret Beaufort, who had not seen her son Henry for fourteen years, the wait for news must have been excruciating.
She would later, gratefully, record the victory in the entry for August in her book of hours (Royal MS 2 A XVIII, f. 31v) , writing ‘This day King Harri the viith wan the feeld wher was slayn King Richard the third. Anno domini 1485.’
Back to the modern day, I have had the rare distinction of holding a heavy 3KG cannon shot found on the Bosworth Battlefield. These were fired low across the battle, intended to wipe out soldiers like skittles. A terrifying and unpredictable instrument of death. You wouldn’t want to be in front of these.
I have also held the famous the Bosworth Boar, the 29mm silver-gilt badge found near where archaeological findings suggest Richard III was killed during the climactic moments of the Battle of Bosworth. It is believed this was worn by a high ranking member of Richard’s retinue. These were literally history in my very palm.
Each year, the Bosworth Battlefield Heritage and Visitor Centre hosts their Bosworth Medieval Festival, a wonderful event I have visited for more than a decade and at which I have given 10 talks. Here are some pictures from across the years.
You all know by now that I have written extensively on this subject in my books ‘The House of Beaufort’ (2017), ‘Henry VII and the Tudor Pretenders’ (2020), and ‘Son of Prophecy’ (2024). So here a few video interviews I’ve done for your watching pleasure. Today, we remember the battle of Redemore. Sandeford. Dadlington Field.
Or as it’s best remembered, BOSWORTH.
I love the Bosworth Boar! I think it’s one of my favourite artefacts on display at the Bosworth Battlefield Heritage Centre.
I live in the US and the medieval commemorative reenactments remind me of the Civil War reenactments held here in the US. Except, yours look like way more fun!