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Friends, it's been said that there are decades where nothing happens and weeks where decades happen. The following episode is certainly going to serve the latter, I'd say, so keep your ears peeled. But before I hand you over to a pivotal string of weeks in Plantagenet history, I've got something rather exciting to announce. After season nine, I'll be launching a special new miniseries with my friend and and fellow history graduate Elizabeth Day, writer and host of the excellent how to Fail podcast. We're teaming up to discuss some of history's greatest failures and learn why losers make history. And this is where you can come on on the bonus episodes for this miniseries, we want your favorite failures. I'll be discussing them alongside producer Al and we'd love to get your voice notes on this new podcast. To submit, all you need to do is sign up to become one of our royal favourites@patreon.com thisishistory and find the sign up link on the show chat room. Now on with the episode after this short break the lookout on the turrets of Beaumaris Castle peers through the salt spray coming off the sea on the horizon. Something has caught his eye. It looks like a light. He squints, rubs his eyes and looks again. He realizes he was wrong. It's not one light. It's a whole cluster of them. He's seeing the pilot lights of a fleet of ships. They're carving their way through the grey waters of the Irish Sea towards the island of Anglesey, just off the northwestern tip of Wales. It's September 1450, and these ships have been expected for the last couple of weeks. Even so, it's still bracing to see them arriving. Because now they're coming. A political play has to be set in motion. It's a play sent down from the highest authority in England, the council of King Henry vi. The lookout scampers through the castle looking for his boss, the captain of Beaumaris, Thomas Norris. When Norris hears that the ships are coming, his jaw tightens. Then he does what he has to do. Minutes minutes later, a small boat sails out from Beaumaris Harbour, going to cut off the ships before they reach port. The message the men aboard have is a simple, unequivocal command. It amounts to scram. If the sailors try to land at Beaumaris, they'll receive no food, no water, no fodder for their animals, nothing. It's not exactly a threat, but it's a promise of a welcome frostier than the seat of a polar bear's outdoor toilet. The garrison of Beaumaris castle watches as the scene unfolds. The boat approaches the fleet of ships. There's a cursory exchange of greetings. The message is relayed, and then the ships change course and head east. Where they'll eventually pull into port, no one knows, but it's a fair bet they'll find somewhere, because the man in charge of the fleet is the King's cousin, Richard, Duke of York. He's not someone who takes no for an answer, and he's got it into his head that he's the only person who can save Plantagenet England from collapse. York has been in Ireland while England has been convulsed by assassinations and mob rule. But now he's heading back to offer his services to what remains of the Crown. As of right now, Henry's ministers don't want helping, but history has a funny way of biting you in the hind parts. Like it or not, it won't be long before York takes centre stage. I'm dan jones and from sony music entertainment, this is history season 9 of a dynasty to die for, Episode 8 royal blood. Ever wondered what it feels like to be a gladiator facing a roaring crowd and potential death in the coliseum? Find out on the Ancients podcast from History hit twice a week. Join me, Tristan Hughes, as I hear exciting new research about people living thousands of years ago, from the Babylonians to the Celts to the Romans. And visit the ancient sites which reveal who and just how amazing our distant ancestors were. That's the Ancients from History hit. Hey, it's Sterling K. Brown from the Hulu original series Paradise. The next chapter begins as Xavier's search for his wife takes him above ground. And what he finds will change everything. It was never just about the bunker. Tune in and discover the truth lies outside Paradise. The official podcast is now streaming and stream paradise on Hulu and Hulu on Disney plus One of the classic fears of childhood and for some people, adulthood, is the terror that there's a monster living in your house. Sometimes it's under the bed, sometimes it's in the closet. Sometimes, yes. I'm thinking of the movie Home Alone here. It lives down in the cellar in the form of a scary furnace boiler thing. Wherever it resides, that monster, the bogeyman, is not a nice thing to have to live with. Knowing that it's there, but being too scared to do anything about it. Well, in England around the year 1450, the name of that monster under the bed is Richard, Duke of York. To the common people, he's a saviour who will someday come charging over the horizon to drag England out of its malaise. But to plenty of the nobles on Henry VI's royal council, the Duke of York is a great grizzly green furred beast with. With pointy horns and slavering jaws. The possibility of his return to England has them well and truly shook. Join our royal favourites on Patreon this week if you want to discuss your own irrational fears. And tune into our bonus episode if you want to hear me confess mine to producer Al. But right now, let's keep it in the 15th century and find out exactly who this beastly Richard, Duke of York is and why the Plantagenet supernoble returns to England. We can start with the basics. In September 1450, Richard, Duke of York, is 39 years old. He's married to a noblewoman called Cecily Neville and has a large brood of children with her, including three soon to be four young sons. York has a solid war record. He's done military service in Normandy, governing the duchy, which has now been lost to the rampaging armies of the French. But as we heard a couple of episodes back, just as the heat was really on, York had his spell as the King. King's representative in Normandy terminated and was sent to Ireland instead, which is where he's been for the last 14 months. By all accounts, he's done a decent job. Ireland is a tough place to go, but York has a dash of Irish blood in his veins. He doesn't mind cracking skulls if he has to, and he can split the garden on every single pint of Guinness he drinks. Well, two out of the three, anyway. But doing a good job in Ireland isn't really what makes York a perceived saviour threat in England. He has some other important attributes too. The first is that York is a bona fide member of the House of Plantagenet, descended from Edward III through both his father and his mother. Never mind that Irish blood. He's got four star royal rocket fuel pumping away in his veins. For family tree geeks, I'll spell it out. York's dad was Edmund Langley, Duke of York. That was old King Edward's fourth son. His mum's great granddad was Lionel of Antwerp, Duke of Clarence. He was old King Edward's second son. So, yes, that makes York his own cousin. But you know what they say in royal circles, kids, incest is best. Anyway, enough of genealogical tables. Let's get back to politics. Why does York's royal blood matter? Well, one reason it matters is because at this point, the royal family has shrunk to the point where it's vanishingly tiny. Henry VI is an only child. All his uncles, including old Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, are now dead. Henry still hasn't fathered any children. The sight of warm, nubile flesh makes him run for his rosary beads. That means York is very much in the conversation when it comes to the matter of the succession. Many people reckon he's got the best claim to be heir presumptive. And even if Henry VI is showing no signs of being able to ill, it still means York has a right to be involved in government on behalf of the inept King Henry. York also has that key political attribute of having been absent when the warm pail of liquid feces hit the industrial sized mega fan during Jack Cade's rebellion in the summer of 1450. So he's not just a royal heavyweight, he's a royal heavyweight who isn't politically compromised. And then there's the small but not inconsequential matter of public opinion. Cage rebels tried to associate their demands for reform with York's name. And there have been similar rumblings in Parliament and in the streets. The wisdom of the crowd says the Duke of York is the answer to all the realms ills. Put all that together and you can see why York finds it impossible to stay in Ireland. In September 1450, everyone can see the realm of England is going to hell in a handcart. William de la Pole, the Duke of Suffolk, who is leading government, is dead and the ordinary people are clamoring for York to come and sort things out. But. And it's a big but, let's remember what I said a couple of minutes ago. York's popularity among the proles, and even with the Commons in Parliament, makes him actively scary to the nobles around King Henry village. Which is why someone sent firm orders to North Wales to block York if he tried to come back from Ireland and land there. But who gave that order? Well, when York finally does land further along the Welsh coast, he sets his mind to finding out who it was that gave this unfriendly order to the watchmen at Beaumaris Castle. The strict answer is that it was an usher of Henry VI's chamber. But a decision of that magnitude must have come from somewhere a bit higher up the chain of command. All the evidence points to someone very senior, someone with pretensions of their own, to be the leading man in the troubled Plantagenet realm. A few weeks before York comes back from Ireland, another great lord of the extended royal family also pitches up back in England. His name is Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, who just lost Normandy. Despite that catastrophic loss, Somerset still fancies himself as the guy who has the fix for all England's problems. York wants to be the man, but so does Somerset. Soon England won't be big enough for the both of them.