After riding along his lines, Richmond halted, and from an elevated part of the field addressed to his army one of those battle-field orations which were in fashion at the period. Dealing with such topics as were most likely to inflame his partisans against the usurper, he was listened to with sympathy; and perceiving, as he pronounced the words, "Get this day, and be conquerors; lose the battle, and be slaves," that an impression had been produced, he added, "In the name of God, then, and of St. George, let every man advance his banner." At these words Sir William Brandon raised the Tudor's standard; the trumpets sounded an onset; and Richmond, keeping the morass to his right, led the Lancastrians, with the sun on their backs, slowly up the ascent toward Amyon Hill.
Ere this, Richard had mounted his tall steed—the White Surrey of Shakspeare—ascended an eminence, since known as "Dickon's Mount," called his captains together, and addressed them as his "most faithful and assured friends." The speech, not unworthy of one whom his enemies confess to have been "a king jealous of the honor of England," elicited some degree of enthusiasm; but Richard must have sighed as he recalled to memory how enthusiastic, in comparison, had been the burst of sympathy which rose from Edward's soldiers on the field of Barnet. The bold usurper, however, appeared undismayed. "Let every one," he said in conclusion, "strike but one sure blow, and certainly the day will be ours. Wherefore, advance banners, sound trumpets; St. George be our aid; and God grant us victory!"
As the king concluded, and placed his helmet, with a crown of ornament, on his brow, the Yorkists raised a shout, sounded trumpets, and moved down the hill; and, with banners flying and plumes waving, the hostile armies came hand to hand.
The day opened not inauspiciously for Richard. His army would be little inferior to that of his adversaries even should Stanley join Richmond; and his position on Amyon Hill had been selected with judgment. Moreover, to intimidate and outflank the foe, he had extended his van to an unusual length, and this artifice proved so far successful, at least, that Oxford was somewhat dismayed at the danger that threatened his scanty ranks.
Oxford, however, was a leader of extraordinary calibre. He had not, indeed, seen many fields, but to him Barnet had been worth thirty years of experience to men not gifted with the military genius which rendered the Anglo-Norman barons such formidable war-chiefs. Over the events of that disastrous day the earl may be supposed to have mused for twelve years in his prison at Hammes, and to have learned, in sadness and solitude, wholesome lessons for his guidance in the event of being again called to encounter the warriors of the White Rose. The day had now arrived, and John De Vere was resolved not to be outwitted either by "Jocky of Norfolk" or "Dickon his master."
No sooner did Oxford's men come to close encounter with those under Norfolk, than the earl saw that he was exposed to danger. Without loss of time, he issued orders that no soldier should move ten yards from his colors. Their leader's motive not being understood, the men hurriedly closed their ranks and ceased from fighting; and the enemy, suspicious of some stratagem, likewise drew back from the conflict. Oxford quickly availed himself of this pause in the battle, and, placing his men in the form of a wedge, he made a furious attack on the foe. At the same time, Lord Stanley, who, when the armies moved, had placed himself on Richmond's right hand to oppose the front of the royal van, charged with ardor; and Norfolk would have been exposed to a danger similar to that from which Oxford had just been freed, if, while Oxford was forming the Lancastrian van into a wedge, Richard had not arrayed anew that of the Yorkists—placing thin lines in front, and supporting them by dense masses.
Both armies having thus been re-formed, proceeded with the battle. But it soon appeared that, however equal the antagonistic forces might be in number, the zeal was all on the side of the Red Rose. Moreover, Northumberland, who commanded the rear—one third of Richard's army—refrained from taking any part whatever in the conflict; and futile proved the king's expectation of aid from the potent northern earl.
The battle had not been long joined ere the field wore an aspect most unfavorable to Richard. Norfolk, indeed, fought resolutely in the van; but, outnumbered and hard-pressed by Oxford and Stanley, he was slowly but surely giving way; and the men composing the king's division exerted themselves faintly, and exhibited little of such enthusiasm as might have carried them on to victory against superior numbers.
Amid the smoke of artillery and the roar of battle, Sir Robert Brackenbury and Sir Walter Hungerford met face to face.
"Traitor," exclaimed Brackenbury, "what caused you to desert me?"