Poor Arthur Tudor. Along with Prince Henry, the eldest son of James I, he ranks as one of the great “might have beens” of English history. What if he had lived to rule and father children from his high-profile marriage? But he did not live to rule, let alone to father children, dying at age 16 in 1502 (and seven years before his father). So it was the early death of Arthur, as it was of Prince Henry in 1612, that opened the door for a younger brother—and in each case, a younger brother who left a distinctive mark on the subsequent course of English history. Nevertheless, the “might have been factor” is an intriguing one, though these essays have better sense and better professional focus than to let it take over. It turns out that what is really intriguing—and a bit of a surprise—is how little we actually know about Arthur, marginalized by the volume's editors in pithy fashion as “the forgotten prince.”

These ten essays were organized to accompany a 2002 reenactment (on its 500th anniversary) of the burial of Arthur in Worcester Cathedral (and as told by Julian Litten, one of its organizers). The essays fall into three groupings: those covering what we actually know about the “historical” Arthur, those dealing with his (probable) portraits and funeral, and those that discuss the architectural and iconographic/artistic aspects of the tomb, the chantry, and the accompanying sculpture and sculptural programs in the cathedral.

Arthur's birth in 1486 put flesh on the union of York and Lancaster as manifested in the marriage of Henry VII and Edward IV's daughter Elizabeth. Steven Gunn covers what can be learned about how Arthur was trained for his role: a humanistic/classical education, his own household and council at age 7, investiture as Prince of Wales, and well-staged triumphal entries into such places as Oxford, Shrewsbury, and Chester—and, of course, to cement his role and the future of the dynasty, the marriage with Katherine of Aragon (betrothed, 1497; married by proxy, 1499; and in person, 1501), which is well set in the context of English, French, Spanish, and Imperial diplomacy by Ian Arthurson. To continue the theme of Arthur's obscurity, Frederick Hepburn turns to some portraits that may be of Arthur (in glass, on a manuscript, on panels), and perhaps of Katherine as well. But the evidence is thin, though the young man depicted resembles Henry VII and is certainly less bovine than the young Henry VIII. The Welsh-Tudor ties, both mythical and real, are traced by John Morgan-Guy through the funeral monuments of such devoted retainers of young Arthur as Sir Richard Pole and Rhys ap Thomas. Finally, for our last look at the historical Arthur, living and dead, Ralph Houlbrooke discusses his funeral: from Ludlow Castle to Worcester Cathedral (where King John also was buried) in a great procession involving 120 torch bearers and 400 great torches (each weighing over fifteen pounds), among other signs of extravagance, costing in all some £892 2s 1/2d, a goodly sum but about one-third of what it cost to bury his mother in 1503. With the earls of Surrey and Shrewsbury as chief mourners, it was hardly a parsimonious affair, though custom forbade the grief-stricken parents from putting in an appearance.

After these papers, we move to some discussions of Arthur's tomb chest, the chantry chapel rebuilt to contain it, its sculptural and heraldic programs, and possible links between the styles and programs used at Worcester and those of Henry VII's great chapel at Westminster. And once again, what we do not know seems to top what we can assert with much confidence. Interesting papers by Mark Duffy on Arthur's tomb, by Christopher Guy and John Hunter (together) on an archaeological analysis of the chapel and tomb, by Linda Monckton on schools of west-country workmen, and by Phillip Lindley comparing Arthur's monument with the work at Westminster, all emphasize how much we do not know. What became of Arthur's body, how his tomb chest was built atop those of Bishop Godfrey Giffard (d. 1268) and his sister, who were the workmen, what it all cost, when was it finished, and whether it was built in emulation of his father's project at Westminster or as a test run for the Abbey are all asked, but there are no sure answers to these questions. For a young man who had been one heartbeat away from the throne, Arthur certainly faded from the family as well as from the public eye.

The essays in this collection are to be commended for concentrating on their eponymous royal. Editors and contributors avoid two obvious pitfalls. One is that temptation to play with a “might have been” approach to the tale. Arthur died, Henry VIII became king; we just have to live with that. The other pitfall is that of prurient curiosity about a thirsty night in Spain. There is no serious historical evidence to enlighten us about the brief tale of marital relations between Arthur and Katherine. If we were to choose between the smutty comment of a teenager and the sworn testimony of a rigid, pious, humorless, and much-abused Spanish princess, my advice would be to go with Katherine. But Gunn and Monckton have given us a collection that is too serious and too intellectually honest to follow these trails, despite the attraction of all those “what ifs.” This is a readable and well-illustrated volume; more of this sort on the Tudors would be all to the good.