fb-nbs.jpg
From 10/23/1538 To 6/28/1603 is 23624 days
23624 = 11812 + 11812
From 11/2/1965 To 3/6/1998 ( premiere US film "U.S. Marshals" ) is 11812 days
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120873/releaseinfo
IMDb
U.S. Marshals (1998)
Release Info
USA 6 March 1998
http://www.leicestermercury.co.uk/king-richard-iii-s-resting-place/story-16902143-detail/story.html
Leicester Mercury
King Richard III's other last resting place
By Leicester Mercury Posted: September 14, 2012
Take a walk up to Leicester's Highcross Street and stop just short of the King Richard III public house. Rest for a moment, take a deep breath and then let out a cavernous, world-weary sigh.
Although no X marks the spot and there's no blue plaque, somewhere, in the midst of an Everards watering hole and a subterranean Chinese restaurant, stood pub par excellence the White Boar Inn.
In the days before museums flogged you key rings and pencils, this ancient ale house was one of England's best known tourist attractions. Better still, it sold you beer.
And how big was it? Put it this way, it was priceless.
"It's up there with Leicester Castle, it's up there with the Guildhall," says Stuart Bailey, Leicester Civic Society chairman. "Had it not been destroyed, it would be a nationally important building, there's no question of it."
The White Boar's winsome credentials begin with Richard III. In 1485, the last of the Plantagenets caught 40 winks at the hostel, in his own royal bedstead, the night before his death at Bosworth Field.
In the early 1600s, there was a murder at the inn connected with the aforementioned bed, its hidden treasure and the pub landlady.
Then there's the White Lady ghost – that unfortunate landlady, who, oddly enough, moved when a new inn with the same name opened in Southgate Street. Yet before all that, in the 1250s, it was minding its own business as Leicester's first town hall.
It had enough history, you would have thought, to stop banker Thomas Paget, then Mayor of Leicester, from sanctioning its demolition. Alas no. This medieval colossus succumbed to oft-trotted excuse "progress" in 1836.
And while the Boar is no more, an early victim of civic short-sightedness, many believe that King Richard's bed still resides under an LE postcode – more on that later.
To tell the story of this ancient ale house and England's most maligned monarch, we start on the evening of Sunday, August 21, 1485.
Richard III, having travelled from Nottingham Castle, is in Leicester in preparation for the fight for his kingdom.
Leicester Castle, at this time, is much like it is now – not fit to hold the royal personage at short notice.
So, instead, Richard takes the largest room at the White Boar Inn, on the corner of Leicester's medieval high street. Several poor lackeys get the job of unloading the wagons and lugging the King's four poster upstairs.
It's conjecture, but ol' Dick might have thought his lodgings a lucky omen – the white boar was his emblem.
On Monday, August 22, 1485, the Battle of Bosworth is fought for two hours in the vicinity of Upton, south west Leicestershire.
Henry, the Earl of Richmond, with the help of 2,000 recently-released French jailbirds, defeats the king and heads back to Leicester wearing Richard's crown. Henry VII, a mere 27, brings Richard's naked and hacked body back to the town, slung over the back of a horse.
This ghoulish procession clip-clops through the Magazine gateway and into the religious enclosure of The Newarke. Richard's body is then laid out for two days in the Collegiate Church of the Annunciation of St Mary.
With the arrival of the new King, the innkeeper at the White Boar quickly repaints and renames his gaff, changing it to the Blue Boar Inn – the blue boar being the emblem of Henry VII.
And while this ancient pub then gives its name to Blue Boar Lane, King Richard's bed, if you can believe it, remains in situ as the inn passes from tenant to tenant.
A century elapses and by late Elizabethan times – the 1590s – Thomas Clarke is the Blue Boar's landlord and brewer.
He's a shrewd, illiterate chap who, in a municipal career spanning 35 years, becomes meat tester, leather tester, borough chamberlain, collector of subsidy, surveyor of town lands, coroner and alderman. He's also mayor in 1583-4 and again in 1598-9. On a 1590 Subsidy Roll, only four other Leicestrians are wealthier.
Thomas shuffles off this mortal coil on Tuesday, June 28, 1603. This is where it gets interesting. In his will, dated June 15, 1603, there's no mention of the Blue Boar or its bedstead.
Agnes Clarke, his widow, runs the pub alone, but on Sunday, February 3, 1604, is murdered after letting in three lodgers from Staffordshire.
The trial is held at the spring assizes on March 25, 1605. Soon after, an Edward Bradshaw is executed and Blue Boar maidservant Alice Grimbold is burned at the stake.
It's here, post-trial, that the story of the king's bedstead, with its hidden treasure, emerges as the reason for Mrs Clarke's murder.
The story has it that on cleaning the bed one day a gold sovereign drops on to the floor. On closer inspection, Agnes discovers a stash of gold coins hidden inside the bed's base.
Rumours of Agnes's new-found wealth circulate and, eventually, they come to the ears of her killers.
It's a cracking tale, whether it's true or not, but the link between the bed and the murder is first inked in the 1650s, in Sir Roger Twysden's Commonplace Book.
He had it, says 18th century Leicester historian John Throsby, "from persons of undoubted credit, who were not only inhabitants of Leicester but saw the murderers executed".
Although, even before Sir Roger dipped his quill, there's a rhyme mentioning the royal bed in the popular penny sights of England, published in Tom Coryat's Crudities in 1611.
"The lance of John O'Gaunt, and Brandon's still i' the Tower, the fall of Nineveh, and Norwich built in an hower; King Henry's slip shoes, the sword of valiant Edward, the Coventry Boare's shield, and fireworks seen but to bedward: Drake's ship at Deptford, King Richard's bedsted i' Leyster, The White Hall whale bones, the silver bason i' Chester."
When author and artist Samuel Ireland visited Leicester in 1790, he made inquiries about the "two curious remains" for which the town was famous. "Which must be admitted to have reference to his (Shakespeare's) works," he wrote, "[and] the house and bed in which Richard III slept the night before the Battle of Bosworth, or rather Sutton Field."
While in town, Ireland had a mooch around the Blue Boar.
"Which is still," he wrote, "in good preservation, and the room in which the king slept is so spacious as to cover the whole premises; it is situated on the first floor agreeable to a style of building at that time very common in most of our ancient inns."
Luckily for us, artist John Flower set up his easel outside the pub in 1826 and gave us two views of the building a decade before its demise.
As for the bed, at the end of the 18th century it belonged to Thomas Babington, of Rothley Temple, a gift from the Rev Matthew Drake Babington, a former mayor.
In 1831, it's owned by Professor Churchill Babington, who offered it for £100 to the Corporation of Leicester. It declined and the bed went to W Perry Herrick Esq, of Beaumanor Hall, a real moneybags.
Mr Herrick, as it transpires, was friends with James Thompson, a historian and founder of the Leicester Daily Mercury.
In 1862, Thompson reveals that Herrick has recently examined the famous bed: "Stating that when he inspected it a few months ago, he found the stock of the bedstead – the part on which the mattress rested – to be much more ancient and rude in construction than the four posts, and it struck him that this was the part of the bedstead that could have been carried about in the [king's] baggage wagons.
"He believed that as early as James I (1604), one of the greatest curiosities the people who visited Leicester were invited to look at was the bedstead of Richard III."
Thompson, who also gave it the once over, said a distinction must be made between the bedstock or framework and the super-imposed bedstead. He found the carved and decorated portions of the bedstead were of the Elizabethan or Jacobean period but the bed-stock itself was of an earlier time.
With the Blue Boar, Thompson also made his own notes.
"It was a spacious half-timber dwelling with one storey projecting over the other; the great room or royal dormitory, having a sloping roof, strengthened by stout transverse beams, the fire place being ample enough for the cuisine of a London club-house."
In his 1844 Handbook of Leicester, Thompson adds: "The Blue Boar was taken down a few years since by a speculating builder to erect some modern houses upon its site.
"Whilst its previous owner (Miss Simons, a lady of the old school) was alive, it was preserved from the hand of the destroyer, but on her death no one was found to rescue this relic of national interest from its destruction."
In 1836, a pub named the Blue Boar opened in Southgate Street, cashing in on its namesake's PR legacy. More bizarrely, however, it even acquired the original's spectral White Lady.
Frederick Mason became landlord in 1958 and told the Mercury in 1960 that he had "seen the ghost". "The ghost is one of the main topics of conversation in Mr Mason's bar," reported the newspaper.
"It was there, one evening shortly after Mr Mason became landlord that he was warned against voicing his disbelief by two old ladies, one of whom managed the pub many years ago.
"Any occupant of the Blue Boar who does not believe in the White Lady is likely to meet with a nasty accident," they told him. Next day Mr Mason fell down the cellar steps and broke an ankle.
"He continued to scoff and a second accident followed. He caught a severe cold and, in a fit of coughing, cracked a rib."
Mr Mason then woke one night to feel the hair on his neck bristling.
In the corner of the bedroom he saw a white figure move slowly towards the bed.
"I'm sure it wasn't a trick of the moonlight. I have never seen it again," he said.
Yet, more bizarre than a ghost that moves pub, was the fact a replica of the Blue Boar was later put at 52 Granby Street, Leicester.
In the 1950s, it was home to Kunzle's Cafe. But even this version of the Blue Boar was doomed. You'll find an outlet of chicken restaurant Nando's there now, in a strikingly disagreeable building.
As for the bed on which the last Plantagenet king of England laid his head, that – depending on what you believe – still exists.
Today, what's long been known as "King Dick's Bed" resides in a 13th-century manor house museum at Donington le Heath, near Coalville.
It has been there since the mid-1970s, says Richard Knox, keeper of the manor house and Bosworth Battlefield, both run by Leicestershire County Council.
"King Dick's Bed gets a smirk, if nothing else, from people with a puerile sense of humour," notes Richard.
"Or there's another common reaction – "Wow, what a beautiful bed!" – and they look at the bed, look at me, and they'll say "do you think it really is the same bed?"
And, does he?
"The very bottom of the bed, the initial oak frame with the ropes running through it, it's possible that it's that old, late 15th century, 16th century or, indeed, later.
"There are little posts running from the bottom of the structure, which are late Elizabethan or early Jacobean."
But Richard, who has been with the museum since 1997, believes even before you throw in a king, a king's treasure and a murder, the antique furniture happily holds its own.
"It's interesting in its own right, without it being embellished," he says. "The chances of it being from the White Boar originally, well, it's possible," he pauses. "That basic bed, the very bottom of the bed, that could well have been the one he slept in."
Donington le Heath Manor House is open from 11am to 4pm. Admission is free.
http://www.mkheritage.co.uk/mkha/mkha/projects/jt/tw/docs/168.html
In Memory of Sir John Fortescue
Milton Keynes Citizen May 24, 2012
Desended from Richard Fortescue, Knight, 'Cupp-bearer to King William the Conqueror', Sir John Fortescue, (or 'Sir John Ffoscue', as he appears in writings of the time), purchased the interest of Salden, near Mursley in the later 16th century.
He also owned the manor of Drayton Parslow, but repeatedly had to complain that the keepers and rangers of Lord Arthur Grey de Wilton, lord of the neighbouring manor of Whaddon, trespassed on his land in pursuit of deer.
In fact his servants had to beat off the intruders with bows and staves and eventually the matter came before the Lords of the Privy Council.
Here, Lord Grey contended that he had a right to fetch any deer of Whaddon Chase which strayed into Salden but the decision of the Lords was that Sir John had the right to 'absolute uninterrupted possession of his Manors.'
Declaring that "there hath been a continual custom time out of mind for the keepers with hound and horn to hunt and "make in" the deer that had strayed from the Chase," Arthur got a little upset by this and a while later whilst in London he laid in wait for Sir John with a number of armed men.
On seeing their quarry coming from Chancery Lane they then "strake him so sore" that he fell off his horse, and he might have been killed through further blows had a servant not pulled his 'insensible' body into an adjoining house.
However, Sir John recovered and at the impressive mansion that he built at Salden would entertain Elizabeth I and James I, having enjoyed great favour during their successive reigns.
In fact shortly after his succession it would be here that on June 28, 1603, King James knighted 22 worthies in one session.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Fortescue_of_Salden
John Fortescue of Salden
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Sir John Fortescue (ca. 1531 or 1533 – 23 December 1607) of Salden Manor, near Mursley, Buckinghamshire, was the seventh Chancellor of the Exchequer of England, serving from 1589 until 1603.
He was the son of Adrian Fortescue and his wife Anne Reade, daughter of Sir William Reade. Fortescue had six children with his first wife, and a seventh with his second wife after the death of his first wife. Many of his children followed his path in politics, holding positions in Parliament. His father Adrian Fortescue was martyred and has been beatified. Sir John was a great-grandson of Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, Lord Mayor of London (1457), and thus a second-cousin of Queen Elizabeth I.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120873/quotes
IMDb
Memorable quotes for
U.S. Marshals (1998)
Sam Gerard: Come on, let's go drink a toast to a good deputy named Noah Woodrow Newman.
Deputy Marshal Bobby Biggs: If we're going to drink to Newman, we better use milk.
- posted by H.V.O.M - Kerry Wayne Burgess 10:49 PM Pacific Time Spokane Valley Washington USA Saturday 12 November 2016
