My brother Pericles Wyatt, as my father liked to say, is by blood the rightful king of England, the nephew of Richard III in the 18th generation, and as such the senior surviving Plantagenet. Richard was crowned king of England on 6 July 1483. It was described at the time as a joyous occasion. Little did anyone present imagine that it would become an event of rancorous controversy, for never has it been so true, sadly for my own family, that history is written by the winners. Just two years later, an exiled adventurer called Henry Tudor took Richard’s life and crown at Bosworth Field and unleashed an assault of unprecedented viciousness on the reputation of the last Plantagenet king of England.
Henry’s own claim to the throne was so tenuous that he spent his reign in a state of permanent anxiety. His propaganda machine, which utilised the most brilliant and malignant minds of the day, set about justifying the new regime by declaring Richard a usurper.
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