Just as Richard III was the most delicious of Shakespearean villains, so was the discovery of his bones under a parking lot the most delightful of stories.
My introduction to the dramatic and historically inaccurate king was in my teens when I saw Brian Bedford delivering a masterful performance at the Stratford Festival. Laurence Olivier’s seminal movie later showed me how a scoundrel could be both hilarious and horrifying. And in my early months in my London posting in 2011, I was privileged to sit ten rows back at the Old Vic Theatre as Kevin Spacey enthralled in the great role.
So it was fascinating to visit Leicester last September to hear researchers reveal that against all odds they had found a skeleton under a parking lot in the centre of the old city that had a curved spine, just like historical accounts of Richard, as well as injuries to the skull that appeared to have been suffered in warfare — again, just like the last English king to die in battle.
Five-hundred years after the death of the last of the Plantagenets, his missing remains may have finally been found. The circumstantial evidence was strong and in an earlier time, before the age of DNA, the researchers would likely have just declared victory. But they needed more definitive scientific proof.
There was a subsequent visit to shoot a longer-form story for 16×9. We took Michael Ibsen, Richard’s 17th generation Canadian nephew for his first visit to Bosworth Field, the spot where the king fell in 1485. A soft-spoken man of few words, Ibsen patiently endured the same questions from dozens of reporters and did his best to articulate what was impossible to convey: his feelings at the prospect that he was a distant relative of the most infamous, and unjustly defamed, of English kings.
We met geneticist Turi King, the ebullient Vancouver native who would do the DNA analysis. With a giggle, she spoke of her father’s pride when he learned that she was a central character in a historical/archaeological detective story that has intrigued the world.
And then we awaited the result. Finally the university announced a February 4 news conference. Turi kindly sent me an email: “You heard it’s February 4th, right?”
I responded: “Yes…and sooo??”
Her response: “Media blackout.”
The September news conference was held in the historic Guild Hall in the centre of Leicester. About 20 reporters crowded into the old room.
The story grew over the months. The February event was in a large council chamber at the university, with an overflow room. About 140 reporters and camera people jammed in, elbow to elbow.
Before it started, I spotted Michael Ibsen sitting in the front row. I went over to say hi. His hands were shaking and he looked a bit shell shocked. I learned later that he had been told the result the day before and was sworn to silence. He had not even told his brother and sister back home in Canada.
Then I greeted Turi King, who had already taken her place on the stage. I noted that her hand was cool and dry when I offered a handshake.
“Hi you!” she said with her typical smile. But she gave away nothing. There were reports that the DNA was inconclusive and that the team would just conclude that the other evidence was strong enough to identify the skeleton.
Interviewing scientists can often be difficult for television because they speak their own arcane language and rarely deliver information in a form that easily translates into a two-minute news story.
This news conference was an exception. In a scintillating show-and-tell, they masterfully and clearly explained their case, building the drama to a climax.
A genealogist reported that his team had verified that Michael Ibsen was in fact a descendant of the King’s sister, Anne of York. For good measure, they had discovered a second descendant — a person who wished to remain anonymous, but who had given a DNA sample.
Osteologist Jo Appleby, who generously gave of her time for the 16×9 story, revealed that she had discovered several more battle injuries on the skeleton. She described him as slender, almost feminine. If his spine had not been bent, he likely would have stood about 5’8” — my height, but tall for a 15th century man.
He was of the right age, about 32, and appeared to have lived in the correct century.
“All of these are highly consistent with the information we have about Richard III in life,” said Appelby.
“Taken as a whole, the skeletal evidence provides a highly convincing case for identification as Richard III.”
Flash bulbs pop. I send out a breaking news tweet.
Turi King stepped up.
She had two samples to work with. First news: Ibsen and the other descendant’s DNAs matched each other.
Then the zinger:
“I can now tell you there is a DNA match between the maternal DNA from the descendants of the family of Richard III and the skeletal remains that we found at the Grey Friars dig.”
“In short the DNA evidence points to these being the remains of Richard III.”
Probably the greatest moment of her career, but she kept a straight face and sat down.
Lead archaeologist Richard Buckley approached the podium for the conclusion. He is a burly, friendly guy who wore a mismatched, askew tie. When he started the dig he said he would eat his hat if they found the bones of the king. Back in September his assistant baked him some hat-shaped cupcakes.
“Ladies and gentlemen it is the academic conclusion of the University of Leicester that beyond reasonable doubt the individual exhumed at Grey Friars in September 2012 is indeed Richard III, the last Plantagenet King of England.”
At last he broke a smile. The crowd erupted in whoops. The researchers hugged each other. Somehow they had managed to keep it quiet in the face of some of the most aggressive reporters on Earth.
Turi told me she had a eureka moment back in December, staring at a computer screen and realizing she probably had a match. There was a quiet moment and then: “I have to admit I did a little dance around the lab,” she said with her usual giggle.
“It was such an amazing moment.”
She could not tell anyone, not even her husband. But she sent a hint to her father back home. He had given her a pearl necklace for Christmas. She told him that if he saw her wearing those pearls at the news conference, it was a yes.
I managed to reach Michael Ibsen before most of the mob and asked him to try to put his feelings into words.
“A pretty mind-blowing bit of information to digest,” he said. He still had to call his siblings back home.
As if the spectacle had not been amusing enough, a British TV reporter approached me for an interview on how Canadians felt about the whole story. Surely the least-interesting commentary of the morning but a fun moment nevertheless.
Afterwards we were offered a chance to see the actual skeleton. I was led to a conference room in a nearby library and had to sign an agreement to not attempt to take any pictures. For good measure, there were two security guards, and two clergymen in the room.
And there he was: spine bent by the scoliosis that likely hit him in adolescence, feet missing (likely because of construction done centuries after he was buried), a front tooth missing, the bones showing dents likely caused by soldiers from the winning side bashing away at the corpse — ‘humiliation injuries,’ Jo Appelby called them.
I thought of the words Shakespeare gave him:
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up
Glorious language spoken by a timeless character in a brilliant play. But now, somehow inadequate to describe a man whose true nature remains a mystery, even if we now know the location of his earthly remains.
Sean is Global National’s Europe Bureau Chief, based in London. Follow him on Twitter: @SMallenGlobal.
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