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Let'a hope thar Edmund doesn't get his wish fulfilled and ends going on to battle with his father...
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Ended with the quotable media grab
The informal review of Gen Next continues as the wheels spin in London and in the Queen’s alternate court. The foundation being laid for this generational conflict. If ever there was a time that spares were likely to be needed, it dawns now.
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Edmund's jealousy might prove to be a problem...
I wonder if he will come to regret his wish. It was spoken in haste, but it could come true... and war is rarely as glorious as it seems.
I wonder if he will come to regret his wish. It was spoken in haste, but it could come true... and war is rarely as glorious as it seems.
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Fb-fb:
It seemed a natural progression from the last scene to focus on another young one, especially one not so well covered. The kids will get much more screen time as we move forward.
To all - I hope readers did not forget our man Leighson with all that has happened the last few chapters. I got away a bit from some of the characters that I had hoped to focus on when I started, but there was so much going on that I had to focus on it. I am trying to slowly weave those fictional and/or smaller characters back into the narrative now that we have a little time. I hope it works.
The next scene comes tomorrow and with my posting schedule, I'll have a small but tasty treat for Christmas day.
On that score, I do hope that all that celebrate such are having a wonderful holiday season and looking forward to the new year. Of course, we're still looking back at this year in the 2022 AARland Year-end AwAARds so while you may have a little free time, take a look and maybe offer your vote. Every single one counts and every writAAR will thank you!
I certainly do for you as readers. You've made my year!
Of course I cannot say but good question. I can say it likely won't go entirely as it did historically.
Keep your fingers crossed. It did not end up so well for him in OTL.
Of course!Ended with the quotable media grab
The informal review of Gen Next continues as the wheels spin in London and in the Queen’s alternate court. The foundation being laid for this generational conflict. If ever there was a time that spares were likely to be needed, it dawns now.
It seemed a natural progression from the last scene to focus on another young one, especially one not so well covered. The kids will get much more screen time as we move forward.
It comes from a later time but still true - war is hell. As to Edmund, keep watch of him.
To all - I hope readers did not forget our man Leighson with all that has happened the last few chapters. I got away a bit from some of the characters that I had hoped to focus on when I started, but there was so much going on that I had to focus on it. I am trying to slowly weave those fictional and/or smaller characters back into the narrative now that we have a little time. I hope it works.
The next scene comes tomorrow and with my posting schedule, I'll have a small but tasty treat for Christmas day.
On that score, I do hope that all that celebrate such are having a wonderful holiday season and looking forward to the new year. Of course, we're still looking back at this year in the 2022 AARland Year-end AwAARds so while you may have a little free time, take a look and maybe offer your vote. Every single one counts and every writAAR will thank you!
I certainly do for you as readers. You've made my year!
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Westminster, February 1456
“Do you think it wise, my Lord?” Warwick asked the Duke as they stood outside Parliament, “His Grace appears to be as mute as a lamb once more without even a mew in the last month or so.”
Richard looked through the doors with a firm eye, “He speaks. When required.”
“Why does this time require it?” the younger Richard Neville questioned.
The Duke of York turned to him sharply, “Because we are not the power. He is.”
“All know this,” the Earl suggested, “What is the urgency?”
“You would have things fast to your hand, it would seem,” Richard explained, “No thought to where they might be in a moments notice. I, nephew, do not work in that fashion. I did not climb to my place by doing so. It did take some time.”
The Earl of Warwick gave nod as the King was wheeled forth in a chair. Duke Richard offered a bow and a smile, “Your Grace. I think your color better today. Your time to Hertford has done you well. Are you ready to proceed?”
King Henry looked up with a weak eye, “Cousin...is this necessary?”
“Of course it is,” Richard again smiled, “You’ve not appeared before your subjects in some time. They would wish a viewing. A sense that all is well.”
The physician Arundel looked to Richard with an uneasy face but helped lift the King from his wheeled chair. With slow steps, the two entered the chamber as all of the Parliament, both Lords and Commons looked on. Richard followed behind ready at any step to assist should the King falter. Henry did not. With each step he took, he seemed to grow a slight bit stronger and finally before them all stood as if their very King, “Our Lords...sirs...we thank you for your gathering and all of the good works that you do. Most especially, we would desire to thank our Lord of York. The most kind protector and best defender of our rights and wishes. Your Queen and your Prince, our son, are most appreciative of the allowances that you have granted. And we, your King, consider you honorable as you go about your business.”
There was a slight rumbling from those gathered, but King Henry held up a hand, “Please, my Lords...to all of those gathered...we have all been through a rough fall...a harsh winter and soon, spring will be upon us. It should be a time of renewal...of planting and good harvest to come, God be good...and while there remain an ache by some...perhaps too many...we would see that all things are mended in time. That is your charge. That is our charge. And we remain steadfast in our duty.”
“Not so silent, is he?” Richard whispered to Warwick before standing next to the King, “My Lords...all gathered, His Grace appears to be fully healed and so he would wish us all to be the same.”
More grumbling came from the Lords and members so King Henry followed the Duke, “Our good cousin is quite right. Governance is everything and that is what you do in our name. It is our charge that you do that and not consider the ill favor of yesterday. That day is done and tomorrow? Would that God Almighty grant us sight, we all should see full blooms.”
“The King remains most wise...” Richard allowed to them but was surprised when Henry continued.
“We have see the worst of it...and we have seen the best...and it is in our thinking proper to plant anew in our own garden. Our Lord of York has done great service...once again...but we think it time that his role be resumed as member of Council. We are returned...and no longer require a Protector. In truth it is you that protect us all.”
“Your Grace...” Richard whispered to him but Henry ignored it.
The King smiled, “We are most thankful to you all for your service. And to move forward, we must all gather as one. Gather round that which holds us all up...the grace of God Almighty and that which has anointed our own body as your sovereign. For if we do not heed His warning, we should all find our souls barren and in Hell for eternity. It is to God that we must look...as a kingdom...as a people.”
The Speaker of the House Sir John Wenlock stood and clapped suggesting that others do the same, “God Save the King!”
When all else followed, Richard was left to help Henry off the steps, “You are...surely feeling better this day.”
“No,” Henry answered as he accepted the assisting hand, “I am not. Yet it felt required.”
“Your Grace...” Warwick suggested behind them, “...you were to full voice. Very well done!”
The King ignored him and leaned to Richard, “I should like to rest, cousin. Perhaps you would join me to chapel.”
“Of course,” Richard gave nod and helped him back to his chair. They were both silent as the King was wheeled to the Abbey but once inside and alone, Richard could not help himself, “So I am to be let go? Terminated from my role? Once again?”
Henry pulled his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, “Oh Richard...must we? Always?!”
The Duke moved to stand in front of him, “Your Grace, we are to great challenges. And we have seen much good done!”
“You need not tell me, cousin,” Henry offered a kind eye, “Yet I think not to be kept hostage.”
Richard showed an affront, “Who holds you hostage, sire?!”
“Too many and too much,” the King stretched his neck with discomfort, “My...wife. You. These Lords. This...all of it.”
The Duke of York bent to a knee and held to the King’s hand, “You’ve not seen your wife for some time, have you?”
“Is that not what you desire?” Henry asked.
Richard showed a kindness, “I would wish you peaceful, sire.”
“I hold no peace, sir,” the King answered, “I shall never do so. Was not born for it. But as I live...I will do what I must.”
“As I will do for you!” Richard exclaimed.
Henry showed a smile, “It is not for you to do, sir. It is my lot. I’ve never enjoyed it...and would I my choice...I’d be blessed for you to take it. Yet the Lord did not place me here to do so. So...I must.”
Richard bowed his head before looking back to his cousin, “Would you care to see the Queen? Her Grace? Would that bring you comfort?”
“Comfort?” Henry looked past him and mused with a slight grin, “That is a word of which I know little. Would I care to see her? My son? Aye. I would.”
The Duke of York stood and grimaced, “Do you not think that she will spoil you against me?”
“She is my wife, my Lord,” the King showed him a weary eye, “What other choice may there be?”
Richard held strong, “I’ve not spent these past years to have a French...woman...dictate to our magnates, sire. Nor to you. Coin and more...precious lives, as you know...have been spent. She will despoil you, cousin.”
“And you are ungrateful at times,” Henry answered him, “I could have done a many thing after...after. Yet I did not. I am King, sir. Whether I wish to be or no. I value you, cousin. Your counsel...your words. I always have, though you may not have known it. Yet I must be King and this was the reason for today. Was that not your idea?”
Duke Richard turned from him briefly before shifting back, “Mine was to show you, I admit. Give promise and then continue. We have done well.”
“As you have done and will continue to do,” Henry agreed, “Yet...I remain King, sir. I’ll not leave you from Council, that I promise. Not now. Never more. Yet I must reign.”
“I must be first to Council,” Richard answered with certainty, “All things decided must pass by me.”
Henry showed a brief laugh, “You are not King, Richard. Why do you hold so tightly?”
“Because...you...” the Duke replied with a sad eye, “...are not you.”
“I am just as God made me,” Henry answered, “And so there am I.”
Richard shifted to a bench and sat with trouble to his mind, “It is uneasy to me, cousin...sire...Your Grace. I wish...always, I wish...to comfort you and assist you. You are my family...my cousin...my King. Yet...”
“There is always something more, is there not cousin Richard?”
The Duke turned with alacrity, “You are unwell, Your Grace!”
“Am I?” Henry questioned with a blank smile.
Richard sat forward, “You are, sire! Your decisions...I am made to make them for you. And I am happy to do so, yet...I will not answer to her!”
“I would like to see her,” Henry offered.
The Duke looked to him with confusion, “Of course...sire. If you must.”
“And you should not be afraid,” Henry suggested, “For at the now, I am not. I think we do well together, sir. Let us on with this and see what shall happen.”
“We shall see,” Richard answered, “Yet are you certain?”
King Henry seemed to forget everything they were discussing and smiled, “I should like to see my son. He is young, but I do wonder if they are reading good scripture to him. It is very important, you know.”
“Yes...cousin,” Richard replied with a sad face, “That is true.”
“So you will counsel him?” the King requested.
The Duke of York gave nod with reluctance, “I...of course. I shall do what needs must.”
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It's infuriating that the king is nice and little else, and Richard is loyal and so much more besides.
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Oops. Richard wasn’t expecting to be hoist by his own petard there! The autumn of his discontent?
Not sure either will like what happens, but we are in an alternate time line, so maybe it won’t end in rivers of blood, woe to all and the scything down of much of the English nobility.
Well, yairs. I suppose he will do what he thinks he must. No matter the cost.
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Well, it looks like this will turn into a more silent war.
I wonder what Margaret will say to Henry? She needs more support, but she can't very well tell the truth...
I wonder what Margaret will say to Henry? She needs more support, but she can't very well tell the truth...
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Fb-fb:
And yes, Richard will do what he must. But I made that line purposely vague.
To all - Just wanted to pop in before it's cooking time. Another squash casserole is on the menu for this evenings family get together. It's my grandmother's recipe and I cannot get out of making it. It is requested every year (this year once already for Thanksgiving.) If anyone is interested, the secret ingredient is sour cream.
I hope all have a wonderful Christmas and Santa brings you lots of goodies. I know my Max cannot wait for his treats. He's checked his stocking every morning this week. Dogs can't tell time.
Thank you all for the presant you have given me this year by being excellent readers and commenters! Back tomorrow with a short but sweet presant for you.
Well, he's very pious. He can at least pray for them all.
The question is how long before Richard finds it just too infuriating and ceases being so loyal?
It was a tricky scene to write because I'm trying to straddle the line between Henry being ill and him being just not entirely with it. His interests now are almost entirely on the church but he's still capable of moments like the above.Oops. Richard wasn’t expecting to be hoist by his own petard there! The autumn of his discontent?
Not sure either will like what happens, but we are in an alternate time line, so maybe it won’t end in rivers of blood, woe to all and the scything down of much of the English nobility.
Well, yairs. I suppose he will do what he thinks he must. No matter the cost.
And yes, Richard will do what he must. But I made that line purposely vague.
More like a bit of a cold war that could turn hot at any moment. As to Margaret, we'll see rather soon what she says to Henry.
To all - Just wanted to pop in before it's cooking time. Another squash casserole is on the menu for this evenings family get together. It's my grandmother's recipe and I cannot get out of making it. It is requested every year (this year once already for Thanksgiving.) If anyone is interested, the secret ingredient is sour cream.
I hope all have a wonderful Christmas and Santa brings you lots of goodies. I know my Max cannot wait for his treats. He's checked his stocking every morning this week. Dogs can't tell time.
Thank you all for the presant you have given me this year by being excellent readers and commenters! Back tomorrow with a short but sweet presant for you.
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Le Mans, April 1456
The Earl of Warwick trotted alongside his friend William Hastings in front of a minimal force as they traversed the land outside Le Mans. As the castle grew larger over the hill in front of them, Neville smiled, “I have heard much of this place and never did think to actually see it.”
“One does wonder...” Hastings mused, “...if His Holiness cares more for His Grace the King or less for the poor Duke d’Anjou?”
Warwick laughed, “I have met the man and he be not so poor. At the least, I shall not weep for him.”
“This whole land of France seems to burn as if a fire, my Lord,” Hastings suggested, “And they are not even at war with us.”
“Not directly,” the Earl gave nod, “Yet powerful figures maintain to keep this King Charles low. He has made too many enemies, not the least of them his own son. I believe that one would wish the other gone away.”
Hastings reined in his mount as they slowed to a stop, “And Paris is once again taken. Where does the King run to, my Lord?”
“I know not,” Warwick dismounted as he looked up to the Palais des comtes du Maine, “I imagine we shall find out soon enough.”
The two men entered the castle and were directed to the hall where they found him. An old man by all accounts, but his figure remained striking. The white hair that topped his head was unkempt but proved a man that cared not for his appearance. It was rather his purpose that mattered. Gruff as he barked out orders and rough as he handled his maps and papers he shouted again, “I said to bring me the numbers to Anjou!!!”
“My Lord,” Warwick announced himself.
John, Lord Talbot the Earl of Shrewsbury turned sharply with no smile, “Who the fuck are you?!”
“My Lord...” Hastings gave bow, “...this be the Earl of Warwick, sir.”
Talbot squinted his aged eyes, “Ahh...the young Neville boy?”
“I be no boy at the now,” Warwick answered quickly.
“You’ve got hair to your balls finally?” Talbot waved him aside, “Good on you then. What do you want?!”
Warwick stepped to his now turned back and replied, “His Grace and the Lord of York had need to find out what happens to here, my Lord.”
“We’ve retaken Maine,” Talbot flipped one map for another without looking up, “Is there more that you’d require?”
“How have we done so?” Warwick questioned, “When we were not at war?”
The elder Earl finally turned back with a frown, “You’re not the only one that may broker a peace, boy. The Pope held Rene by the stones and stripped him of this land. Little the French King could do about it since he remains to war with Siena. Slowly...we are taking back what is ours. And we do hold some sway in these lands.”
“His Grace will surely be pleased,” Warwick suggested, “Though I know not how the Queen may feel about it.”
Talbot peered to him closely, “I’m old, boy. I’m not deaf. What care have you for the Queen?”
“Had you a care, mayhap you would have traveled back to...” Warwick started to say but Lord Talbot stopped him.
“Save me the explanation, boy! All the bickering in the world cannot explain what happened. And while we remain to here! I know of you, young Neville. Know your father well. You had both better be thankful that I was not to St. Albans that day. I’ve not spent my life working towards these ends when you and yours cannot find peace at home!”
Warwick still tried to explain, “There is far more to it than that...”
“I’m better off to here,” Talbot ignored him and turned back to his maps.
Young Hastings followed, “My Lord Talbot...you are well respected both at home and to here. You may be pleased to know that your son is named Lord High Treasurer. By desire of the Queen at that. The poor old feelings are now healed and all by order of the King.”
“I serve a crown, not a man,” Talbot turned to them both with a hard eye, “Nor a woman, sirs. I’ve not spent the better part of my life to this place to see it lost because of petty arguments...or more. My John wishes to put in with that crowd? Well...he is a man grown and will inherit my title when I give it up. But I’m not ready to do so. He’ll have to wait. Until then, I’ll continue to lift my sword. To the French or any other that comes to me.”
Warwick held up his hands, “No one wishes to displace you, my Lord.”
“Do you not, boy?” Talbot questioned, “As said, I’m not deaf. I hear you are now appointed Captain of Calais. I’m certain that was difficult to pry from York’s grasping hand. Yet perhaps he holds a loftier goal?”
“You are unfair to the Lord of York, sir,” Warwick protested.
Talbot laughed, “I know Richard. Have worked with him well. Yet he holds an unyielding pride. And it may be his undoing. Chain yourself to him if you so wish. I will do what I must. This whole thing..this battle of whatever you wish to call it...began for two reasons. A loss of our holdings and who is to blame for that. Well...your Somerset is dead. And a twat! As was his brother. The other cause...my young Lord? Pride and place. I care not who is the Queen. Frankly, I could not give much of a shite who is the King. I care for England...sir. You fight your battles. I’ll fight our bloody war!”
“My Lord Talbot...” Hastings offered, “...no one questions your loyalty or prowess...”
The old soldier laughed again, “I don’t give a shite what your questions may be. You have come. You have seen. You may tell His Grace the King that Maine is once again under the crown of England and France remains low. That is my charge. I’ll continue to see it through. What will you do, sirs? Boys?!”
Talbot sneered as he walked away, “Fuckin’ children!!”
“He is...high spirited...my Lord,” Hastings suggested.
Warwick looked on, “He is ours, William. Thank God for that.”
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There is only one John Talbot, and he is precisely where his country needs him to be.
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Oh thank god. A proffesional. And he's in charge of annexing France. We might actually get most of it back given the state of the map...Good...Good.
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Talbot looks like he doesn't like the Queen much... but he doesn't like York either. That's interesting. I wonder who he'll side with if the chips fall?
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Whoever screws up what he’s doing more - which will probably be the Queen, although York doing something stupid or accidentally killing his son isn’t outside the realm of possibility either.
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Fb-fb:
To all - So first of all, it was fun to finally get to write a bit for Old Talbot. I really couldn't imagine writing him in any other way than he was presented. A single minded soldier. And as suggested above, thank God for that.
Secondly, I thought you might appreciate a new map especially as another change has occurred for England. Much like gaining Cherbourg back, this is exactly what happened with Maine. I have not had to lift a finger for either, but the Pope just gifted us both. I won't complain but I won't take advantage of it right now either. It would not make much sense during this narrative portion. I'll explain more of it during the story as we go along and as it makes sense, but France remains very much in trouble.
It is also quite interesting at the moment because the loss of Maine and Normandy was rather much of what started the near constant bickering once upon a time but now that some of it has been returned, the troubles are too far down the line to stop.
The next scene follows and while a bit longer moves us from France all the way to the northern border. I had some fun with this one as well. Thanks always for reading and giving comment and I hope you all have had a wonderful holiday season.
Don't we all. It might have prevented much of this.
Indeed. While he might have been decisive had he been back in England during St. Albans, his absence was clearly felt. In RL, his presence in 1450 was part of what kept Richard from pressing forward and he had died by the time of St. Albans. Since he is still alive in game, it offers a very good reason why certain areas in France remain under English control.
The map is nuts. I'll speak more on it below, but as above he makes for a good excuse to explain what is happening in France, at least for England.
I think the below is correct. As Talbot states, he really only has one goal.
Exactly. And also helps explain why he is still in France rather than in England as things get hairy.
To all - So first of all, it was fun to finally get to write a bit for Old Talbot. I really couldn't imagine writing him in any other way than he was presented. A single minded soldier. And as suggested above, thank God for that.
Secondly, I thought you might appreciate a new map especially as another change has occurred for England. Much like gaining Cherbourg back, this is exactly what happened with Maine. I have not had to lift a finger for either, but the Pope just gifted us both. I won't complain but I won't take advantage of it right now either. It would not make much sense during this narrative portion. I'll explain more of it during the story as we go along and as it makes sense, but France remains very much in trouble.
It is also quite interesting at the moment because the loss of Maine and Normandy was rather much of what started the near constant bickering once upon a time but now that some of it has been returned, the troubles are too far down the line to stop.
The next scene follows and while a bit longer moves us from France all the way to the northern border. I had some fun with this one as well. Thanks always for reading and giving comment and I hope you all have had a wonderful holiday season.
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Roxburgh Castle, August 1456
Richard of York stood to the ramparts of the dilapidated castle and watched the horizon. There was a sense of accomplishment for yet another battle won, such as it was, but his mind was elsewhere. As always, his mind was to the south. Behind him stood his brother in law, another in a long line of Neville men. This one, the fifty one year old Baron Fauconberg, William Neville.
“Will you treat with him fairly, brother?” Fauconberg asked.
York did not turn, “I would treat with him as I would any King, though he was unwise to venture cross the border.”
“He’s young,” Fauconberg suggested, “And I understand him to be finally rid of his Douglas problem.”
The Duke snorted, “There is never an ending to those that would wish to challenge. How well I know it.”
“Now, brother...” Fauconberg suggested, “...you know well that King Henry would not send you north if you were distrusted.”
“He? Send me north?” Richard finally turned with a curious eye, “Sir, it was I that made the choice for it was required. You needed an assistance and the new Earl of Northumberland...he and his do still hold a contempt for what occurred last year.”
William Neville gave nod, “Aye. I should think so. Yet I had thought that so much of the bad blood was mended. Our brother Salisbury tells me so.”
“He is away from court,” York replied as he turned back to watch for incoming riders, “He would not know. It could be considered power sharing, but in truth it is far different. While I was to London, I held the ear of the King and Council. Yet I fear to have made a foolish blunder in coming to here.”
Neville questioned, “Why so?”
“Hmm,” York again snorted, “No sooner was I away that the Queen took Henry on progress. I am told that the party visits all manner of places and at the now are to the Midlands.”
“So she has not yet resigned herself to the changing of the guard?” Fauconberg asked.
“There has been no change of guard,” Richard said over his shoulder, “It is only that she leads the court party now with Somerset out of the way. She grows bolder, somehow. It vexes me.”
“Certainly, sir,” Neville gave an understanding nod.
“I believe she means to keep Henry from my presence at any cost,” the Duke held to the wall, “And thus to speak poison to his ear at every turn.”
Fauconberg took a step to stand next to Richard, “Yet you and all still hold powerful office. My brother to Lancaster and young Warwick to Calais. The Archbishop remains Lord Chancellor...”
“She already begins to make her mark on government, sir,” Richard looked to him with worry, “So easily convinced is he that the Queen persuaded Henry to dismiss Bourchier as Treasurer and appointed the younger Talbot to the position. I believe we would know why. And she usurps privileges. Inviting Italian merchants into London, the people there have not been pleased. When they riot, as they have, she sends in Buckingham and Exeter to quiet them ignoring that the city lay under the Lord Mayor’s jurisdiction.”
“They cannot be pleased at that,” Fauconberg suggested.
Richard narrowed his brow, “Why else do you think she goes on progress? She is unloved by the people to London and hopes to curry favor elsewhere. I’m told she parades the young Prince everywhere she goes.”
“No whiff of scandal there?” Neville questioned with a wry smile.
York turned back to the horizon, “That is a party that will not hunt. The King has recognized the boy and few question at the now. I tell you, my Lord...this Margaret is not only a beauty but holds a brain to her head. I know not how, for she makes mistake after mistake...and yet somehow always manages to recover. As I say...it vexes me.”
“Is the King so pitiable as that?” Fauconberg asked, “So easily led?”
Richard was silent for a time before giving reply, “I believe that the battle broke him. He is not a mute calf, yet neither does he show to be a bull. He is confused at times and prefers to spend his minutes at prayer. Every great now and then I see a sign of spirit within him, but gone are the days where he might show his prerogative with any great strength.”
“Then it is a good thing that you are here to treat with the King of Scotland and not him,” the Baron pointed, “For we might get the worse of it otherwise. Alas, here he comes.”
And so he was. A band of Scotsmen marched towards the castle with King James II at their lead. They were met at the gates by English soldiers and there was little pleasantry but the King was at the least kindly escorted to the main hall where Richard and the Baron Fauconberg met him. James was now twenty and six and fully into his reign. Not entirely handsome owing to a rather large facial birthmark, he still held forth with pride. He was tall with striking ginger hair and it was clear that his soldiers valued him greatly.
“So...this is the famous Richard Plantagenet, eh?” James stood to his full length with a grin, “Or should I say infamous? Aye. As a King, should I be worried as well?”
Richard showed deference with a bow before standing as tall as he might, “As I hold no quarrel with Kings, Your Grace, I should think not. Yet I do hold quarrel with an army inside this realm that is not English. And yours happens to be so.”
The Scots King looked around the hall and then to the Baron, “In need of repairs, is it not, my Lord?”
Baron Fauconberg answered, “It is rather difficult to maintain when I was away for so long. Yet even as captive, I have supported all that I owe.”
“Especially when your crown does not give to you what they owe, aye?” James laughed.
“Our affairs are hardly your concern, sir,” Richard answered, “And think not that this structure or any other incapable of defending as you raid cross our borders.”
“Aye,” James allowed, “I have seen that. Mayhap I chose a poor timing. Maybe next year. Things change so fast to the south.”
Richard raised his brow, “As they do to the north?”
“Mine are conquered, my Lord,” James grinned, “Fully controlled. I cannot say the same about yours.”
“You have spies to our court, I am certain...” Richard allowed.
“And you to mine,” James interrupted.
Richard gave nod, “...and so you would think to know what happens to here. You do not. Our government remains strong and our King, still very much our King. His Grace King Henry named the sixth would be lenient with you, Your Grace. Has no wish for hard feelings and would desire to continue the peace between such sovereign Lords. His Grace is a pious man and would pray for you as he does for all that would keep within the grace of God.”
“I need not his prayers,” James dropped his smile, “Yet mayhap some of his castles. Aye. That I do need.”
The Duke of York returned the hard eye, “You’ll not find them here. Not this day. Not as long as I hold the land of my title.”
“You’re a hard man, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York...” James suggested with a nod, “...a warrior and man of pride. These small bands I’ve sent down...aye, I sent them...seeming no match for you. I’ll grant you that and run home with tail between legs for what else am I to do? Yet you’re not just fighting me, my Lord. For I do know of what you face and it is a pretty one at that.”
When Richard did not give the Scots King the satisfaction of an answer, James continued, “Your Queen is a Lady of precious tastes. Mayhap Scottish tastes, eh? At least that is what I’m told before that black bastard of Douglas died. A nasty bit of business, but someone’s got to do it, aye? Yet seems she’s not quite done with us. Perhaps she likes a Scots cock...though I hear she likes a lot of cocks.”
“Your Grace, you do speak foully!” Lord Fauconberg suggested strongly.
“Calm yourself, sir,” James held up a slight hand, “I wouldn’t know myself. Only rumor. Never met this Margaret...though I’d like to. As I say, I’m told she’s easy on the eyes...and other places.”
Richard of York did not flinch, “You have not met her...but I’m told that others of your affinity have.”
“Ahhh...” James smiled again, “...so your spies are doing their work after all. Very good, my Lord. Indeed...your Queen seems very willing to buy her favors. Usually it’s the other way around. But she wants and we may have such to give her. For a small price, of course.”
“Price?” Fauconberg questioned.
The King of Scotland grinned, “Northumberland...Cumberland...Durham. All things that are offered.”
Richard held back and remained calm, “She is surely not serious, Your Grace. These are not things for which she has control. You would know this.”
“Does she not?” James held his grin, “Too poor that. Especially as she offers fine marriages as well. I’ve got two young daughters that would find a match. Apparently she has such suitors...two young Beaufort boys. A Henry and an Edmund? I forget titles...ah yes...Somerset, I believe.”
“Of bastard lineage,” Richard was quick to remind.
James shrugged, “I’ve got a bastard myself. As I think you do also, my Lord Fauconberg. They’re no less in need, are they?”
Richard held the Baron back as he stepped forward, “You attempt to bargain when you hold no standing...Your Grace.”
“I’m a King, my Lord of York,” James dropped his grin, “That’s all the standing I would need.”
“You’ll find no purchase in England this day, Your Grace,” Richard answered him firmly but then softened, “Yet if match is what you look for, I may be able to assist. You now hold a son as well, do you not?”
James showed a curious eye in reply, “Three, in fact. I hope another on the way.”
“I have four myself,” Richard allowed with a slim smile, “Yet also two precious daughters to call mine own that remain unwed. Especially my Elizabeth. She nears to twelve in age. Not yet a suitor, however...”
Silence hung in the air for a moment before the Scots King answered, “My heir and namesake is not yet five...but...maybe. If you might sweeten the pot, we may do a deal right now.”
Richard smiled, “I’m afraid I am unable to do that, Your Grace. The deal I offer to you is this...by the grace of King Henry named the sixth, you should be allowed to march your forces back across the Tweed and with all safe passage. No harm should come of this and so, mayhap at a later date, you might consider a suggestion made here this day. My suggestion...not hers.”
“You really do hate each other, don’t you?” James asked with a laugh.
The Duke did not smile, “That is no concern of yours.”
“It is all of my concern, Lord Duke,” James answered but smiled, “Yet I’ll take this deal...and then wait for the next.”
After the Scottish King and his left, Fauconberg and York were left alone. The Baron was wide eyed, “Can it be true that the Queen barters with the Scots?!”
“Indeed it is and can be,” Richard mused as he looked to the slim fire within the hall, “She plays for place, as always, and without a care for who may be harmed.”
The Baron then looked to Richard with more question, “Do you truly mean to place your daughter to Scotland?”
“Of course not!” the Duke was adamant with a brief look before turning back to the flames, “Your sister would kill me. No...we are back to a game of wits. This King confirmed the worst of my fears.”
“Is she bitter over her father and Maine?” the Baron asked.
Richard shook his head, “No. She is bitter over me and her lack. I doubt she cares two ducats towards her father. But she is as pernicious as the men that trained her...Suffolk and Somerset. Unyielding...and determined.”
“It is more than I expected,” William Neville suggested, “Perhaps I have been to here for too long. My brother did tell me...but I could not believe it.”
“Believe it,” Richard turned to him with a determined eye, “And I think to find you reason to leave this place now that we see peace in the north. Salisbury can handle what needs must. But you mention Maine. Your nephew, and ours, has taken control of Calais as Constable. Yet Warwick has found Lord Talbot...wanting. You know the man. Have served with him in France. Go to there yourself and see what you may do.”
Fauconberg questioned, “My Lord Richard...you know as well as I that he will do his own action. He is unquestioned to the continent, and rightly so.”
“Well...we don’t need another King...now do we?” the Duke pointed to the exited James, “It is not just a battle of wits, my Lord. It is a battle of wills. The Queen has proved that she holds more backbone than her tiny frame may allow. We shall need all manner of good favor and that includes the Lord of Shrewsbury. He must be convinced and I can think of no other better able to do so than you. Your record is impeccable and he will respect that. You are fair and have been honest. Meet with Warwick to Calais and then travel to Maine to treat with Talbot. Gain an ally, my Lord. For I think to need him.”
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Margaret won't be quite popular if she's caught giving away English land to a Scottish king, methinks...
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