“The two armies were massive by medieval standards. But what happened next defies explanation even by those who fought.”

By Andrew Boardman

NO ONE living in England during the 15th century ever saw the Wars of the Roses as a continuous military conflict, although Tudor and Elizabethan writers later promoted this falsehood for political and dramatic reasons. Contemporary chroniclers knew better. They realized that the population of England was largely untouched by the civil wars, aside from collateral damage on the battlefield. Once battles were over, it was difficult to avoid the dispersal of manpower and essentially, only leading nobles returned to fight another day. Such men formed the nucleus of private armies that were neither standing nor permanent. In short, England was not equipped to sustain constant war and instead, the Wars of the Roses is best viewed as several bouts of cyclic violence, of which the Towton campaign of 1461 was the most violent and bloody.

But why was the Battle of Towton so notorious, and why was it so shocking to contemporaries? Was it Britain’s biggest, longest and bloodiest battle ever? And if so, why was it later forgotten and consigned to history? Was the battle really fought for 10 hours in a snowstorm? Were casualty figures inflated to make the death toll more appalling? And did the Yorkist victory at Towton lead to, or worsen, a north-south divide that emerged in later years?

The causes of the Wars of the Roses are myriad, but the Duke of York’s rash bid to claim the English throne from the weak and unstable Henry VI in 1460 was the catalyst that sparked a dynastic revolution. It caused a political crisis that forced Henry to disinherit his only son, Edward Prince of Wales, and led to Queen Margaret of Anjou’s desperate bid to win back the Lancastrian inheritance. It was an opportunity for overmighty lords like the Duke of Somerset to avenge their father’s deaths at St Albans in 1455, and they soon lured the Duke of York and others into a trap that would sidestep the accepted codes of chivalry in favour of cold-blooded murder.

Somerset successfully confronted his rival York and many of his supporters near Wakefield. York was slain, and, in the aftermath, the Lancastrians carried the fight south to free Henry VI from captivity, and not for York’s eldest son, Edward Earl of March, the wars might have ended at Wakefield. However, personal vengeance dictated that the conflict would continue, aided and abetted by ambitious magnates who wished to capitalize on the resulting carnage.

The ensuing fight escalated the conflict to new heights of military activity. And in the winter of 1461, two major battles were fought at Mortimer’s Cross and St Albans with varying degrees of success and failure. Margaret of Anjou’s bid to free King Henry from Yorkist control at St Albans ended in a Lancastrian victory against an overstretched Earl of Warwick. But due to the fear of northern hoards pillaging London, the queen’s army was forced to withdraw back to Yorkshire to regroup.

Meanwhile, Edward of March soundly beat the Lancastrians in the west, and he joined forces with Warwick to be acclaimed Edward IV in London amid a widespread propaganda campaign and massive recruiting drive. The outcome of his dynastic challenge against Lancaster would be brutal and merciless. And on March 28, 1461, the Yorkist army, newly mustered, won a resounding victory at Ferrybridge in the heart of Lancastrian territory. However, the battle claimed many lives and left Yorkist forces split in two, with contingents, led by the Duke of Norfolk, still on the march north.

The following day, Palm Sunday March 29, 1461, Edward IV, still without Norfolk, encountered the Lancastrian army under the Duke of Somerset in the fields between Towton and Saxton. It was snowing and bitterly cold on the exposed plateau that would soon be littered with 28,000 bodies (counted by the heralds).

The two armies were massive by medieval standards. Most of the English nobility were gathered, but what happened next defies explanation even by those that fought. Contemporary chroniclers were equally shocked by the bloodshed on palmsonday field, and foreign writers would later ridicule the deaths of so many Englishmen who might have been better employed against more worthy enemies abroad.

The details of the battle of Towton are buried deep in legend and conflicting evidence. Several facts emerge, such as the massive one-sided archery duel, the uncertain brutal hand-to-hand fighting and the late Yorkist reinforcement by Norfolk that caused a Lancastrian rout six miles long by three miles wide.

Many were buried in mass graves on the battlefield. But in 1996, an incredible find was unearthed accidentally by workmen during the building of a modern extension to Towton Hall that shed more light on the battle than historical records. It was, without doubt, a unique military history event, and I was lucky enough to be involved in unravelling the story along with others who were specialists in their field.

Although much of my thinking about the battle of Towton has not changed since then, the grave illuminated the human cost of warfare and how brutal the human psyche can be when faced with survival. Originally some 61 bodies occupied the Towton grave pit. However, only a proportion of these were analyzed in detail by the team headed jointly by Bradford University and West Yorkshire Archaeology Service. Due to the trauma inflicted on the skulls of the bodies, criminal forensic methods were also employed with the help of an expert from the United States, and the tests and conclusions told the fascinating story of how each soldier died.

Massive injuries had been sustained. Repeated blows to the skull told of frenzied attacks with heavy weapons such as poleaxes and war hammers. Daggers were thrust into the back of heads, throats were cut, and mutilation was carried out on the corpses indicating overkill and disfigurement. One man had been hit more than 15 times, so great was the hate felt by his attacker.

Even though some of the cadavers had been reburied quickly in Saxton parish churchyard and therefore not examined, it became immediately apparent that all the bodies in the grave had met their deaths while not wearing helmets. And it is ironic that initially, the team thought that one of the soldiers had been tossed into the grave with his hands tied behind his back, so premeditated was the slaughter.

However, what I uncovered later in contemporary records tells us a great deal about what happened at Towton, and touches on the politics of those compelled to fight. In short, the grave may have held the victims of a massacre or mass execution, which is significant when discussing the psychology of medieval soldiers and what they intended to do on battlefields.

Firstly, the bodies were found packed into a trench grave originally excavated to take as many bodies as possible. Variously orientated, it was clear that no religious or orthodox method of internment had been followed – the dead were literally just dumped in the grave, and one individual had been turned 90 degrees to fit in the trench, indicating that space was at a premium. The original grave cut was approximately five metres by two metres, and its southern edge partially invaded the limits of Towton Hall, which in 2003 had its dining room floor removed to expose more bodies dating to the same period.

Osteological analysis established that the Towton dead were aged between 16 and 50 years, fitting neatly with what we would expect from commissions of array and local musters of the time. The men were generally tall (some were six-footers) and in a good state of health, and most had suffered from a lifetime of considerable physical hard labour. Irregular bone formations in the arms and shoulders proved that some men used the warbow (or had been trained in arms from an early age), which is hardly surprising given their presence at Towton.

Of the 27 skulls examined, a total of 113 wounds (a ratio of four-to-one) were found on each, raising the question of why so many blows were delivered to each man in one specific area and how much time the various attackers needed to do this. Two men had received over 10 head wounds each, and the skull of Towton 25 needed complete reconstruction before the level of trauma could be recognized, a clear indication that others did not threaten the attacker while he struck. Most attacks were made from the front by right-handed assailants, but some cuts and blows to the head were delivered from behind and above while their victims were on the ground. Fifty per cent of the post-cranial injuries were to the hands and arms, indicating that some men had attempted to defend themselves, and multiple attackers with different types of weapons were involved in the assaults.

So, was this battle-related trauma, or something far more sinister and calculated? Clearly, the killers were not disturbed, judging by the number of injuries, and since 1996 I have been trying to equate this type of killing with what happened in the Wars of the Roses as a whole.

The conclusions reached provide an insight into the savagery that motivated individuals to fight in such wars and commit atrocities in their aftermaths. The questions raised may be contrary to what we might expect in a world of chivalry, but what exactly was chivalry in the late 15th century? Are the injuries in the Towton grave consistent with the psychology of the code? Was there no room for ransoms or mercy in 1461? Obviously not. Therefore, whatever our conclusions about the mindset of those who fought at Towton, clearly the wider context of the battle and the aftermath must be explored to arrive at a decision. What emerges is that intense feelings of self-preservation led to the savagery at Towton and that such cruelty was based on the most primaeval cause for war in the human psyche – the blood feud.

The man known as Towton 16 is probably the best experience to try and identify with. However, other individuals who died with him suffered more significant injuries, including multiple acts of mutilation and overkill.

Shortly after analysis, experts reconstructed the face of Towton 16 for the documentary program Blood Red Roses, and this soldier immediately became an individual who had a story to tell. In his late 40s, he was tall, robust and had probably fought in previous battles of the wars or in France. Alternatively, he may have been a thug who had received his distinctive healed blade wound to the jaw due to a local brawl in a tavern. Towton 16 may also have been an archer considering his size, proportions and the transformations apparent in his elbow. But he also could have been a yeoman or gentleman of some distinction, in other words, a leader of men.

In the latter stages of the rout at Towton, many Lancastrians fled back to York and ultimately tried to cross the rivers that lay between. According to contemporary accounts, rivers ran red with blood, and some men of note were captured and made prisoners by the Yorkists in the struggle to survive. Many were later executed because of who they were and the threat they posed to the Yorkist regime. However, what are we to make of the bodies in the Towton grave? Why did all the men die from repeated blows to the head? Why were there no helmets in place when they were attacked? And were some of the soldiers mutilated after death? The author of Gregory’s Chronicle may reveal the answer that the Towton grave was not exceptional.

After listing the nobles who perished on the battlefield, Gregory admits that the amount killed was “many more than I can rehearse; but with these and others that were slain in the field is a great number, besides forty-two knights that were slain thereafter.”

We later learn from Edward Hall, the Tudor chronicler, that before the battle Edward IV “made a proclamation that no prisoner should be taken, nor one enemy saved…and the taking of prisoners was proclaimed a great offence.”

So, could the 42 knights mentioned in Gregory’s Chronicle and those “that were slain thereafter” be those who were captured, made prisoner and executed at Towton? Were they killed in a massacre, unarmed and overwhelmed by their enemies? And even more critically, are we seeing the extermination of a warrior class of captains that posed a threat to the Yorkist military machine? In short, did Edward IV condone this massacre of unarmed men just because they were Lancastrian?

We are told that few men of note escaped from the battle of Towton, although a proportion of the peerage did manage to flee back to York and safety. Edward IV was probably in no mood for mercy or appeals for ransom after such a bloody day. In fact, he still had a blood feud of his own to reconcile and was determined to establish himself as a strong monarch in English shires where unrest, infighting and rebellion were endemic. In short, there had to be a final solution, and the political answer to this transferred to the battlefield was for Edward to annihilate his enemies’ will to combat, remove their leaders and teach his subjects a lesson they would never forget.

Towton 16 and others like him were useful in war and hunted in defeat. In the peak of fitness and ready to kill to claim wages and booty, there can be no doubt that most soldiers in the wars faced an uncertain future the moment they chose sides. Many thousands like Towton 16 certainly paid for their master’s ambition in blood on that uncertain Palm Sunday afternoon and in the battles to come. However, the evidence proves that it was essentially those of note who suffered execution after battles had ended and not ordinary soldiers. Therefore, the grave in Towton village is a sad reminder of this and the demise of English chivalry.

One would like to believe that the subsequent act by Richard III to build a chapel commemorating the dead at Towton was an act of charity and remorse. But perhaps we will never know the absolute truth about palmsonday field because there was a good reason to consign its indiscriminate carnage to the shadows.

Andrew Boardman is the author of Towton 1461: The Anatomy of a Battle from the History Press. A historian whose published works include The Medieval Soldier in the Wars of the Roses and The First Battle of St Albans, he has been a consultant on many TV documentary series for the BBC, Channel 4, Sky One and Yesterday Channel. He lives in Yorkshire.