Road Apples by Tim Sanders
March 4, 2013

Diggin' up bones

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There are those who complain that while I am a humorist, not a historian, it wouldn't hurt for me to tackle a serious historical topic now and again, just to show a little versatility. What follows is just such a topic, inspired a few weeks ago by a news item which did not receive half the attention it deserved. You'd be surprised at just how little coverage this story received.

In a February 5th CNN article, it was announced that after performing several very complicated forensic tests, British scientists have determined that the skeletal remains found buried in a crude grave under a parking lot in Leicester, England dated from the late 1400s and without a doubt belonged to a chicken.

But of course I am only jesting. Those remains, according to DNA tests, belonged to the infamous English monarch Richard III.

This story caught my attention immediately, due to the fact that I'd been forced to read Shakespeare's Richard III in school, and was blissfully unaware that he'd been buried under a parking lot.

Shakespeare never mentioned it. But if we're going to get historical here, we need to offer some historical perspective on historical British history. What follows is true, since I researched much of it myself, and the rest was provided by very reliable sources:


• In the late Middle Ages, the British nobility put a lot of stock in their houses. Architecture was important to them, and when they were introduced to each other, they always said things like: “Harumph! I am Richard from the House of York,” and “Well then, I am Neville from the House of Windsor,” and of course “I'll see your York and Windsor, and raise you an Edward from the House of Tooters. Top that!” Keep the house obsession in mind.

• In the 1300s and 1400s, everybody who was anybody wanted to be a Plantagenet. If you want to know what a Plantagenet is, or was, you'll have to look it up. I tried, and I think it has something to do with owning a big mansion and raising soybeans, but I'm not sure.

• The British royal families all loved to fight. The peasants didn't fight much, due to the cost. They could barely afford to starve, let alone fight. There were a variety of wars back then, several of them among close relatives who all wanted to be king. There was the 100 Years War, which was called that because it lasted for 116 years, and the Wars of the Roses, which had nothing to do with flowers at all, and other minor uprisings.

• There were at least three King Richards, although there may have been a dozen more skulking around various castles back then. Richard I was the best loved, because although he reigned for almost ten years, he only spent six months in England. He had decided it was time for another Crusade against the Muslims and the Jews in Jerusalem, a city which he felt really belonged to the Western European Christians due to some old land contracts he claimed he'd found in a steamer trunk. Richard I, also called Richard the Lion-Hearted, was forced to give up the throne when he died in 1199. The second King Richard was called Richard II, oddly enough. He reigned from 1377 to 1399, when he was deposed, which was always fatal. I saw an old portrait of Richard II, and unfortunately he looked almost exactly like Meryl Streep wearing a kitchen mop. He needed to be deposed. And this brings us to:

• Richard III. Richard III reigned from 1483 to 1485, and would have reigned longer if he'd survived the Battle of Bosworth Field. Richard's dying brother, King Edward, had given him the task of protecting Edward's two sons until the oldest, age 12, could take the throne. He protected them on a diet of bread and water in the Tower of London, until they died of unknown causes, which left Uncle Richard as King Richard III. Shakespeare depicts Richard III as a very disagreeable character, a hunchback who is always depressing the palace staff by muttering things like “This is the winter of our discontent”, “To be, or not to be,” “Out, damned spot!” and “Life's but a walking shadow, so dress warm and wear ear muffs.” On August 22, 1485, cousin Henry, who was only a Tooter but wanted to be a king, defeated Richard's forces in the Battle of Bosworth Field and Richard died uttering those famous last words: “A horse is a horse, of course! etc, etc, etc.”


I could go on, but all of this historically significant British royal history stuff is giving me a royal historical pain in the ... let's call it a headache. If you've ever looked at a depiction of the British royal family tree, you know what I mean. Most of them had at least three dozen titles, with names like Gloucester and Lancaster and Rochester and Rooster and Useter and Wooster, and each and every one had a house he or she belonged to, and that just had to be advertised along with titles acquired later. The whole bunch were cousins, brothers, uncles, aunts, and so forth, all intent on killing each other before the next family reunion. But when you look at old paintings there's no question as to those close family traits passed down from king to king. Especially the ears, many of which resembled large dinner plates.

One last Richard III comment. I read somewhere that after the battle of Bosworth Field, Richard's body was hung naked in the city square for his loving subjects to admire, and then he was buried under that Leicester parking lot, not far from the ticket booth. There are still questions concerning the 500-year-old hubcap found clutched in those bony fingers, but you'll have to look elsewhere for the answers.