Bosworth: Unravelling the Myths of a Defining Battle

The Battle of Bosworth in 1485 is often remembered as a defining moment in English history, representing a climactic clash between good and evil. It is the moment the deformed tyrant Richard III was slain while the noble saviour, Henry Tudor, was crowned king — ending the Wars of the Roses and marking the start of the Tudor dynasty. However, popular beliefs surrounding the battle are rooted less in historical reality and more in myth: dramatised storytelling carefully constructed to serve political agendas. A closer examination of Bosworth reveals a more complex, less flattering story — a complicated political event defined by opportunism, shifting loyalties, and strategy.

Richard III: A Tyrant and Usurper?

One of the most enduring myths surrounding Bosworth is that Richard III was an evil usurper — a disfigured leader who stole the throne and deserved his fate. Thanks to Shakespeare’s depiction of Richard as a hunchbacked villain, this narrative has persisted for centuries. In Richard III, he is portrayed as an embodiment of wickedness and thirst for power, his twisted physical appearance reflecting his moral corruption.

In reality, this portrayal was largely a product of Tudor propaganda. Richard did suffer from scoliosis, as confirmed by the University of Leicester’s forensic analysis of his skeleton, but it would not have made him incapable nor grotesquely deformed. His physical condition was exaggerated and weaponised to undermine his character. As Jeffrey R. Wilson argues, the myth of Richard’s body was part of a larger Tudor project to associate physical difference with moral evil, making him the scapegoat for decades of civil war.

Furthermore, Richard was not merely a usurper. He was named Lord Protector after Edward IV’s death and then crowned king under a legal pretext that questioned the legitimacy of Edward’s children. He maintained support from key regions, especially the North. Much of his alleged villainy comes from Tudor sources written after his death — including those penned under Elizabeth I’s rule — and were never intended to be neutral. Reassessing Richard means recognising how history can be distorted by those in power.

Henry Tudor: A Heroic Liberator?

Just as Richard has been vilified, Henry VII has been glorified. According to legend, Henry was a noble liberator, returning from exile to save England from tyranny. His victory is framed as moral and just — a divine intervention to correct Richard’s wicked rule.

This narrative was carefully crafted to legitimise Henry’s questionable claim. His right to the throne came through his mother, Margaret Beaufort, whose Beaufort line descended from John of Gaunt’s illegitimate children (later legitimised by law). In addition, Henry had grown up away from England in Brittany and Burgundy, largely disconnected from the politics of the land he would later rule. Ultimately, he was an outsider leading a foreign-supported force.

Henry may have liberated England from Richard III’s rule, but his own reign was marked by suspicion, tight control, and political consolidation. He governed through bonds, fines, and surveillance. The idealisation of Henry as a divinely appointed ruler does not reflect the caution and suspicion that actually characterised his reign.

Richard III’s Crown Found in a Bush?

Perhaps the most famous tale from the Battle of Bosworth is that Richard’s crown was found in a thorn bush after the fighting ended and was placed on Henry’s head. This conveniently symbolic legend suggests that nature itself had chosen the new king — giving the battle a sacred and providential quality.

Yet, there is no contemporary evidence for this story. It likely originated later as Tudor propaganda, designed to portray Henry’s rule as divinely ordained. It helped transform the messy reality of a civil war regime change into something glorious and destined. This imagery is politically powerful — not only reinforcing Tudor legitimacy but also recasting the violence into a spiritual triumph.

In truth, Henry’s legitimacy came not from divine intervention, but from his marriage to Elizabeth of York, uniting the rival houses of York and Lancaster. The crown-in-the-bush tale is a powerful example of how myths are used to justify political transitions.

A Fair Fight Between Two Kings?

Another common depiction of the battle is that it was a fair and even contest — a noble conflict between two rival kings with clear loyalties.

In fact, many English nobles, such as the powerful Stanley family, refused to commit to either side until the outcome seemed clear. Henry Tudor was not widely recognised; he was a claimant with a flimsy title and a foreign army. When the Stanleys did act, it was at the critical moment — siding with Henry and tipping the battle decisively in his favour.

This was not a chivalric showdown but a piece of political theatre, with key players choosing power over loyalty.

Richard III’s Glorious Death in Combat?

A popular image of Richard III’s death is that of a brave king refusing to flee the battlefield — crying out for a horse and dying a noble death. But forensic evidence tells a very different story.

Analysis by the University of Leicester reveals that Richard’s body bore multiple wounds, mostly to the skull, some likely inflicted after death. He had no helmet, was likely unhorsed, and was surrounded and overwhelmed. His final moments were brutal, undignified, and chaotic — not a heroic last stand, but a mob killing.

The romanticisation of Richard’s death sanitises the brutal reality of medieval warfare. The myth of the noble warrior king distracts from the political nature of his defeat: this was not about honour on the battlefield, but the elimination of a rival.

The Battle Ended the Wars of the Roses?

While Bosworth certainly marked a turning point, its depiction as the definitive end of the Wars of the Roses is misleading.

Dynastic instability continued after 1485. In 1487, the Battle of Stoke Field saw Henry fighting Yorkist rebels supporting Lambert Simnel, a pretender claiming to be the Earl of Warwick. This was a major military threat and arguably more significant in securing Henry’s throne than Bosworth itself.

The wars did not end decisively at Bosworth but faded over years of cautious rule, marriage alliances, and suppression of dissent. Presenting Bosworth as a clean conclusion simplifies the prolonged chaos that followed.

Why These Myths Persist

Why have these myths endured for over 500 years? The answer lies in power, propaganda, and education. The Tudors controlled the narrative of their own history. With chroniclers and playwrights like Shakespeare working under Tudor monarchs, history was shaped to legitimise the new dynasty. Richard III had to be vilified so that Henry VII could be glorified.

At the same time, the lack of widespread literacy and forensic evidence meant few could challenge the official version. Over time, these stories were absorbed into national consciousness — reinforced by drama, literature, and schools. The simplicity of a good versus evil narrative appeals to our moral instincts, making it more likely to endure.

Reclaiming the Truth

Re-examining the Battle of Bosworth and its myths does not diminish its importance — it emphasises it. Understanding that the battle was decided by betrayal and politics rather than honour, that Richard III was more than a villain, and that the war didn’t end neatly in 1485 allows us to appreciate the complexity of the event.

Bosworth represents not only the beginning of a new royal house but also the power of storytelling. Investigating these myths enables us to challenge political narratives and uncover the messier, more human truths beneath them.

After all, history is rarely black and white.

Bibliography:

David Baldwin, Stoke Field: The Last Battle of the Wars of the Roses (Barnsley: Pen & Sword Books, 2006)

Christine Carpenter, The Wars of the Roses: Politics and the Constitution in England, c.1437–1509 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997)

Chris Skidmore, Bosworth: The Birth of the Tudors (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2013)

Jeffrey R. Wilson, Richard III’s Bodies from Medieval England to Modernity: Shakespeare and Disability History (London: Routledge, 2022)

University of Leicester, ‘Osteology: Injuries’, Richard III: Identification, 2013 <https://le.ac.uk/richard-iii/identification/osteology/injuries> [accessed 27 June 2025]

University of Leicester, ‘Osteology: Scoliosis’, Richard III: Identification, 2013 <https://le.ac.uk/richard-iii/identification/osteology/scoliosis> [accessed 27 June 2025]