be reburied in the nearest consecrated ground, Leicester Cathedral.
To have any hope of getting the project under way, I now needed funding, and a recognized archaeological team willing to do the dig, as well as the costing. Finding the right team would be crucial. The UK archaeological teams I had contacted had been sceptical about the search, and didn’t know the terrain. However, LCC had recommended a local archaeologist with whom it had worked: talented and sensitive, Richard Buckley, co-director of ULAS, might be just what the project needed, and his colleague, Harriet Jacklyn, was an equally experienced osteologist. I recognized the ULAS name immediately as the team that had undertaken the Grey Friars Street dig but hadn’t responded to Ashdown-Hill’s previous proposal to search for Richard III’s grave. They were a leading archaeological unit with a considerable reputation and wouldn’t want to be seen setting off on any wild-goose chase so it would be a difficult sell. In January 2011 I telephoned Richard Buckley, who was intrigued by the project, but not convinced. He knew where the sizeable Greyfriars precinct was and the potential the car parks offered, but said he would have to do further research and only if this came up with anything would he be interested in taking matters further. I duly sent him the pitch and Reburial Document. In March 2011 I met Sarah Levitt, Head of Arts and Museum Services and lead on the project for LCC. She understood the sensitivities surrounding the search for the remains of a named individual and would be happy to include protections within our agreement. An agreement, however, was a long way off. Once we had archaeologists on board (she also recommended Buckley) she would help with introductions to local funding bodies.
At an on-site meeting at the Social Services car park I spent time with Councillor Michael Johnson whose enthusiasm for the project had opened the door to LCC. Walking with me towards the northern end of the car park, he asked where I believed the church might be. As I told him about the GPR survey I planned to commission to attempt to reveal its walls beneath the tarmac, we walked on to the same spot where I had my intuitive feeling, and I experienced the same powerful reaction once again.
Much rested on my next meeting, at ULAS, where Richard Buckley had agreed to meet me. If I could get him on board, the project would have a chance of securing the local funding it desperately needed. Buckley quickly put me at my ease; he had done his research and wanted to show me something. In one of their finds rooms, on a wooden table stretching almost the full length of the room, was a series of maps. Buckley started at one end with a map from 1741 by Thomas Roberts, and pointed to the ‘Gray Fryers’ area marked on it: it looked like an orchard, and was situated directly opposite St Martin’s Church (Leicester Cathedral), right where the car parks are now.
On the south side of the ‘Gray Fryers’ was the outline of a building that Buckley said looked like a gatehouse, and could be a marker for the remnants of Herrick’s mansion house. As I looked, I could see a formal garden to the north with four pathways leading to a central area. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Could this central area be where Herrick’s stone pillar had stood? I put forward my theory. My reasoning was simple enough: if you have the grave of a king in your garden and erect a ‘handsome stone pillar’ to mark it, wouldn’t you lay out your paths to lead towards it? It seemed logical to me. However, Buckley was focused on working through the ages, showing me on each map how the land use had changed over time. After the Dissolution, the ‘Gray Fryers’ land was gardens, but was finally covered with tarmac to become car parks in the 1930s–40s. It was archaeologically virgin ground, only built on at its outer edges and never investigated.
The three car parks of the Greyfriars area of