Towton and The Crooked Billet

The weather forecast promised rain but we took a chance on the  battleship grey clouds that plunged across threatening skies.  True to form the skies opened as we joined the motorway and we found ourselves wondering whether we’d made a mistake.  We had a seven mile walk around the site of the Battle of Towton planned after all.

According to some accounts the Lancastrians mustered 30,000 men for this battle although there is now some dispute about the figures.  One thing is certain the Yorkist army was significantly smaller than the Lancastrians drawn up on the ridge above Towton, their right flank protected by the River Cock.  And it was the Lancastrians who chose the battle ground. 

The previous day, the Battle of Ferrybridge had enabled Edward of York to cross the River Aire.  It had also seen the death of Lord Clifford, the man who had killed his twelve year old brother some three months previously. The Yorkist army had to march north before making camp for the night.

It was blustery but not raining when  we arrived in the village of Saxton where we were to start our walk. At least it wasn't snowing like it was in 1461- not ideal conditions for a battle.  In fact it was the snow that probably gave the Yorkists their victory in the end. 

We found Saxton Church and parked.  Then we set off along a country lane lined with hawthorn, in the direction of Towton.  It's odd too how much more noticeable the hills are when you have to walk up them rather than sitting in the comfort of a car.   I wouldn't have fancied a forced march from Ferrybridge- the powerstation dominated the skyline behind me- followed by a night in the cold, finished off by a savage battle that lasted through the hours of daylight.  To be honest I wasn't sure about the seven miles I was just setting off on.

Much to our delight as we joined the road to Towton we spotted a noticeboard and discovered a path.  Further investigation revealed a newly created battlefield walk set up in conjunction with the Royal Armories at Leeds.  Thankfully this walk takes visitors around the battlefield rather than walking along the roadside. Before long we had spotted Lord Dacre's Cross set up in 1928 as a memorial to the battle.  He wasn’t killed at this spot though.  The unfortunate Lancastrian was shot by a boy near an elder tree on the other side of the road. 

According to local folklore, the roses that grow in the hedgerows hereabouts take their colour from a mingling of the red and white rose blood  that was shed that cold Palm Sunday in March.  In fact one of the fields is still known as the ‘Field of the Red and the White Roses.’

The battle started in a blizzard. Yorkist archers sent their arrows deep into the Lancastrian ranks. The wind was against the Lancastrians. Their arrows failed to reach the massed ranks of the Yorkists and in the driving snow they couldn’t even see their enemy.  The Lancastrians had no choice. They advanced down the hill.  For a while it looked as though they would win.  They had superior numbers after all.  

Bloody Meadow

The meadow above the River Cock is still known as 'Bloody Meadow' due to the savage hand to hand fighting that stained the snow red.  When the Lancastrians finally withdrew they found themselves trapped on the wrong side of the River Cock.  The gentle stream of today was a raging torrent  at the time of the battle, carrying winter rains and melted snow. It was impossible for exhausted men or those weighed down in armour to cross the water.  Their woes were compounded by the arrival of Yorkist reinforcements led by the Duke of Norfolk.

Fleeing Lancastrians were finally able to get across the river over the piled up bodies of their comrades. 

The bitterness behind this battle saw the Yorkists summarily execute foot soldiers and nobles alike.  There was no question of being magnanimous in victory.  Despite the killing that continued virtually up to the gates of York itself, Henry VI and his family were able to escape to Scotland.  The civil war was not yet over. Edward of York, now styling himself King Edward IV, was not safe on his throne. The peasants who owed their loyalty to the warring lords were not free from the fear of being called to do battle whether they wanted to or not.

We continued around a field filled with sighing wheat into Towton and then back to Saxton.  There are grave pits on the north side of the church there for some of the 28,000 men said to have been killed that day.  We didn't stop as it was starting to rain again but we did catch a glimpse of Lord Dacre of Gilsland's tomb.  According to the very informative guide published by the Towton Battlefield Society, Lord Dacre was buried upright on his horse and this was apparently confirmed during the nineteenth century. There is also a modern memorial to the men who perished in this chilly part of Yorkshire all those years ago.

Then it was back to The Crooked Billet for a very enjoyable late lunch.  The guidebooks  say that this pub may well be on the site of an earlier inn, which served as the Yorkist headquarters.

It didn't seem to take so long going home as it did to arrive.  May be its the anticipation or not knowing your destination that makes the outwards journey seem longer.  Or perhaps its the anonanymity of the motorway network.  Whatever the reason, next time you’re on the M62 and pass junction 43 give a thought to one of the bloodiest battles ever fought on English soil.