The Wars of the Roses

[coz1]

Abingdon Abbey, January 1458​

William Hastings gave nod to the Prior of the Abbey for opening the chamber door, “We are thankful for all are concerned about the Earl and would wish to assist.”

“Her Grace the Queen is also quite concerned and sends word that she will travel to here within the day,” the Prior suggested.

“Ever so loving is she,” Hastings allowed with a smile, “The Earl’s health is paramount as is his presence before the King for the reconciliation.”

The Prior crossed himself, “His Grace is kind and good. A true servant of Lord God Almighty.”

“Indeed,” Hastings showed another nod and entered the chamber to find the Earl of Devon in a bed, “My Lord, it was said that you were forced to break your travel. Do you suffer unduly?”

“Who is that?” Thomas de Courtenay lifted in the bed and peered through the dark room.

Hastings lit a second candle and moved closer, “William, my Lord...from Warwickshire.”

“I know you,” the Earl sat up, “High Sheriff, yes?”

“The very same, my Lord,” Hastings agreed pleasantly, “As so many make their way to London, for an event you assisted in shaping, all are wondering what happens to you.”

“Old wounds, sir,” Devon suggested as he lifted gently from the bed and moved to pour a drink, “Yet it leaves me wondering what care have you? A mere sheriff.”

“As I say...” Hastings answered, “...all would be concerned. I am told the Queen rushes to your side at this very moment.”

The Earl sat with drink in hand, “Much like your master, I imagine she also wishes to convince me not to stand with the King for his council.”

“My master?” Hastings questioned.

“Please, sir,” Devon narrowed his brow, “The Earl of Warwick. I know you to be in his service.”

Hastings gave a slight nod of the head, “It is true that I gain an annuity from the Earl for my work within the shire, but I serve the realm, my Lord. As do you.”

“Fine,” Devon raised a weary hand, “What is it that you want?”

“Shall I be plain, my Lord?” Hastings asked.

Devon sighed after taking a drink, “I wish that you would. I am tired.”

“My Lord, as you rightly surmise, there are a great many competing parties at play at the now,” Hastings began, “For right or wrong reason, this is the truth. And while I am, as you say, to service of the Lord of Warwick, I in my own capacity serve the crown as High Sheriff. I come to you with a plea, my Lord, as much as I do to see after your safety. While I applaud your lofty goals, and certainly those of His Grace the King, I do wonder if all is understood?”

“What is to understand?” Devon asked, “The Archbishop of Canterbury and His Grace have worked mightily to find a reconciliation of these warring parties. North to south and everywhere else. Poor feelings remain and we all should see them made right.”

Hastings bowed his head, “May I sit, my Lord?”

“Do as you must,” Devon replied.

“And would you allow a drink for myself?” Hasting asked.

The Earl handed over the pitcher of wine, “Have your fill but make it quick, sir.”

“I thank you,” Hastings allowed as he also accepted a cup. He poured slowly and then took a sip before sitting back in his chair, “Now...I do wonder...does this include your own feud with Bonville and the like?”

Devon sat forward with a sharp eye, “You know not your rank, sir!”

“I mean no disrespect, my Lord,” Hastings held up a hand, “I merely wish to suggest that like things are the same. As Percy and Neville do to the north, and they are included to this conference, yours has also been part of this unease within the realm. And so many more follow such path.”

The Earl sat back with a sure eye, “Since Clyst Heath, I no longer find a feud. I was pardoned by the King and remain grateful for it.”

“I believe that was your...second pardon?” Hastings questioned, “Remind me of the first?”

Devon showed irritation, “As you speak of it, I believe that you know it well. An ill informed and ill conceived challenge in fourteen and fifty two with the Lord of York. Since that time, he has been no friend to me nor I to him.”

“And yet you did support him when the King became ill,” Hastings challenged.

The Earl skewed an eye, “Many did. What was to be done? Like him or no, he was a better choice than Somerset.”

“Which was why you did as much as any prior to St. Albans to stop it, yes?” Hastings allowed, “And then found your injury during that battle.”

“A fascinating history lesson, sir,” Devon suggested with indifference, “Yet I note that you have yet to make a point.”

Hastings gave nod, “In short, my Lord, in recounting these things I hope to prove that you hold no great allegiance to either York nor Somerset, the later who we might agree was a prime motivator towards that poor battle.”

“That is fair enough,” Devon shrugged.

Hastings leaned forward, “Then it is wondered why you grow so close to the Queen...or she to you?”

“If you are insinuating, sir...” the Earl stood but Hastings held up another hand.

“No thing of the sort, my Lord. Yet my personal plea comes from word that I cannot believe is derived from the King should he wish this conciliation.”

Devon calmed himself and sat once more, “You speak of the commission.”

“I do, my Lord,” Hastings gave nod, “And I may not...cannot understand how the King would wish at once the raising of a large army while at the same time asking for peace.”

“Tell me that these men are not required?” Devon questioned, “When it is said that York does arrive with nearly four hundred and Salisbury even more?”

Hastings questioned after, “Please, my Lord. Those of the north, Percy and Clifford, show with nearly fifteen hundred between them. Is this for some grand parade along the banks of the Thames?”

“York’s own son in law Exeter arrives with a force...” Devon attempted to counter.

Hastings answered readily, “...and quite possibly in league with the young Beaufort Lord of Somerset who also brings a retinue.”

The Earl of Devon sat back and looked to him for a moment before asking, “Do you ask of me which side I am on? I shall tell you that some time back, I was visited by the Earl of Warwick asking the very same. What numbers shall he bring when he arrives from Calais?”

“It is a recipe for war, my Lord,” Hastings replied, “The very thing that I believe you hope to avoid.”

The Earl answered, “I am not alone in that. Buckingham...the Archbishop...we have pursued this strongly.”

“All but the Queen,” Hastings suggested, “You did say to speak plainly.”

“I cannot speak for her intentions,” Devon said.

Hastings followed, “Then why do you hold so close to her, my Lord? When it is clear that she has no desire for peace and only wishes for retribution?”

“I think you impertinent, sir,” the Earl stood, “Take advantage of the time and my condition. Mayhap a bribe to the Prior as well. I need not answer to you why I remain loyal to the crown. Perhaps you should ask that of yourself...why you do not?”

William Hastings stood as well turning his back to the Earl, “I am sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to distress.”

“Then do not and leave me to my peace,” Devon answered.

“Of course I will,” Hasting turned back and handed the Earl his pitcher of wine, “I thank you for the drink and your wisdom. I had hoped to convince you that supporting her may not be so wise, but it is clear that you hold greater intentions. Please...I beg apology.”

“Just leave me,” Devon said as he sat back down with a sigh, “And you may tell your Lord of Warwick that no manner of entreaties will sway me from my loyalty to the crown.”

Hastings offered a bow, “I will do, my Lord. And I thank you for the time.”

The Earl of Devon waved him away as he rubbed to his leg. It hurt and he wished to be back to bed. Yet it was said that Queen Margaret was soon to arrive. Perhaps one more drink and then some quick rest so he could be fresh for the audience. He poured and drank it down before sitting back to the bed. A desired sleep came over him and soon he placed his head to the pillow.

Some hours later, the Queen arrived as suggested. The Prior led her to his chamber and opened the door to find him still abed. An attempt to rouse him did not seem to work and Margaret became irritable. Another attempt caused her to speak, “Tell me not that he is drunk!”

“No, Your Grace...” the Prior allowed before trying one more time. This time, however, he sensed that something else was wrong. Feeling to the Earl’s head, he stood back in a shock.

“What is it?!” she asked with force.

The Prior could only look at her with a sad eye, “I...I fear the Lord Earl is deceased, Your Grace. He is cold to the touch!”

All Margaret could do was narrow her eyes and speak with anger under her breath, “God damn him...Warwick!!!”

 

[El Pip]

Hastings efforts at convincing the Earl did seem half-hearted, but then perhaps he never intended to convinced anyone just provide a reason as to why he was there. In which case the point of conversation was never to convince but just to pass some time, though hopefully Hastings may have held off on the poison had he unexpectedly succeeded. That said the Earl was also frankly unconvincing as to why he supported the Queen, it seemed more as if he was letting his dislike of York blind him than any actual reason so perhaps Hastings was correct in not putting much effort into that part of his mission.

In any case there is an interesting parallel between Warwick and the Queen, it seems both are escalating things without the full knowledge or approval of their nominal leader. In the case of the King perhaps without any approval (depending on how passive he is on any particular day) while I wonder if there is a degree of deliberate negligence from York? I can see him choosing not to ask too many questions of Warwick in case he does not like the answers, all while approving of the intentions and the results. The only reason I doubt is that such a scheme only works if you have (or are seen to have) clean hands and York at this point does not, his earlier impatience and marches on London will be held against him. But then Margaret immediately jumps to blaming Warwick and not York, so on some level the scheme is perhaps working.

 

[Bullfilter]

I’m on a stern chase at the now and you slipped away again during the night … still, I will post my comments on the previous chapters now and catch up with the latest in due course.

and a great many letters have been intercepted showing her entreaties to the very Pope.

I was about to add the damning accusation of “Papist” to the righteous hue and cry over Margaret when I remembered that we’re not there yet.

I’m afraid that any that might know the truth of it with the Prince are gone from us. There may be no way to prove it.”

“You need not prove it, my Lord,” Fulk grinned, “I think rumor enough to spark the flame. As I say, she is unloved.”

Good advice from Fulk. And she is certainly unloved (rightly so) within the commentAARiat!

This Queen believes that she has created for herself a safe harbor. Let us make certain that she has no such thing!

Yes, she’s been getting her way far too much of late. Time for some active pendulum swinging.

Margaret turned to him with irritation, “You leave out many in your telling, sir. And as my husband suggests...he does not wish to go to battle.”

I love how even Margaret is starting to see the obvious problems in her courtiers’ logic.

Yes, thought the same. She was being dangerously logical and prudent there for a while …

Very well, my Lord. Dispatch a commission of array to all shires

… but not for long. This has the look of a petard upon which some self-hoisting may be done in the near future.

Margaret proving that every part of her personality is repulsive to all that is good and right.

Hear hear!

To all - I'm home for the day so I'm going to go ahead and post the next scene in a moment.

Ugh, just when I had caught up again. Ah well, more tacking into the wind required. Hoist the mainsail!

 

[Kurt_Steiner]

Why do I think that good old nuttie Maggie is going to accuse Warwick and York of having murdered Devon...

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Hastings efforts at convincing the Earl did seem half-hearted, but then perhaps he never intended to convinced anyone just provide a reason as to why he was there. In which case the point of conversation was never to convince but just to pass some time, though hopefully Hastings may have held off on the poison had he unexpectedly succeeded. That said the Earl was also frankly unconvincing as to why he supported the Queen, it seemed more as if he was letting his dislike of York blind him than any actual reason so perhaps Hastings was correct in not putting much effort into that part of his mission.

In any case there is an interesting parallel between Warwick and the Queen, it seems both are escalating things without the full knowledge or approval of their nominal leader. In the case of the King perhaps without any approval (depending on how passive he is on any particular day) while I wonder if there is a degree of deliberate negligence from York? I can see him choosing not to ask too many questions of Warwick in case he does not like the answers, all while approving of the intentions and the results. The only reason I doubt is that such a scheme only works if you have (or are seen to have) clean hands and York at this point does not, his earlier impatience and marches on London will be held against him. But then Margaret immediately jumps to blaming Warwick and not York, so on some level the scheme is perhaps working.

It was an interesting situation as I was reading about it. Devon did die unexpectedly on his way to the council meet (the infamous Love Day which we will cover.) Supposedly the Queen herself was by is bedside which initially made me think maybe she killed him, but that seemed too easy. Besides, there is no need to pile on with her misdeeds. So instead, I made a feint and put it to Warwick (or his men, of which Hastings is one...more on him in a moment.) One could still perhaps see the Queen as culprit because she was there when it was discovered that Devon was dead.

As to Hastings mission, had Devon been more inclined to support York, he may have survived. Yet Devon has not forgotten Blackheath and how his support for York nearly got him killed. I should also add, I am changing things a bit here with Hastings being Warwick's man when IRL, he was really Edward's man (supposedly best friends - which could still happen depending on how things go.) But I wanted to go ahead and start including him more, so this seemed a great chance.

Finally, I am pleased that you are seeing the parallels between the Queen and Warwick. I do intend that. Some suggest that Margaret ended up hating Warwick more than York, likely because it was Warwick that was spreading all of the rumors of her infidelity. As to York standing back, that is also quite true. There will be more of this coming up (in fact, the next chapter is titled simply Warwick.) It's this time that the younger Richard Neville starts to truly make his name. I'm not sure I can say full on "kingmaker" here or yet, but he starts to make his mark.

I’m on a stern chase at the now and you slipped away again during the night … still, I will post my comments on the previous chapters now and catch up with the latest in due course.

You're still able to catch up as I won't post the next scene until Wednesday.

I was about to add the damning accusation of “Papist” to the righteous hue and cry over Margaret when I remembered that we’re not there yet.

Good advice from Fulk. And she is certainly unloved (rightly so) within the commentAARiat!

Yes, she’s been getting her way far too much of late. Time for some active pendulum swinging.


Yes, thought the same. She was being dangerously logical and prudent there for a while …

… but not for long. This has the look of a petard upon which some self-hoisting may be done in the near future.

Hear hear!

Ugh, just when I had caught up again. Ah well, more tacking into the wind required. Hoist the mainsail!

I'd say poor Margaret but she deserves everything coming to her.

Why do I think that good old nuttie Maggie is going to accuse Warwick and York of having murdered Devon...

Because of course she will.

It may fall on deaf ears, however.


To all - I said most of what was needed above, but I should speak a little more on this "Love Day" that is coming. I have to admit, I have always meant to include it but realized a bit too late that I should have built it up a bit more. It was the brainchild (from what I have read) of the King working with Archbishop of Canterbury Bourchier and the Earl of Devon, with of course an assist by the Duke of Buckingham (ever the peace maker.) It was an attempt to put the bad blood behind them and I will cover it in the next couple of posts. Does it work? If you think so, you have not been paying attention.

Back with that scene on Wednesday. Thanks so much for your eyes and words!

 

[HistoryDude]

Margaret's an idiot. I fully expect that a bunch of Englishmen kill her brutally by the end of this (although not on screen since the forum does have rules after all... and leaving it undescribed probably lets the reader imagine a horrible fate for her anyway)

France is doing poorly? I wonder if this further harms Margaret's stance... especially since her marriage was for relations with France.

It seems like people are resorting to murder to try to keep the peace. Why haven't they just targeted Margaret herself yet? As long as they covered their tracks, the path to war might be delayed... although there is still the issue of the illegitimate heir...

 

[Bullfilter]

The Prior could only look at her with a sad eye, “I...I fear the Lord Earl is deceased, Your Grace. He is cold to the touch!”

All Margaret could do was narrow her eyes and speak with anger under her breath, “God damn him...Warwick!!!”

Mwahaha! A dirty deed well done, though probably not dirt cheap. For a fee Hasting was happy to be Warwick’s back door man! Good to see Margaret thwarted, if only in an irritating way.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Margaret's an idiot. I fully expect that a bunch of Englishmen kill her brutally by the end of this (although not on screen since the forum does have rules after all... and leaving it undescribed probably lets the reader imagine a horrible fate for her anyway)

France is doing poorly? I wonder if this further harms Margaret's stance... especially since her marriage was for relations with France.

It seems like people are resorting to murder to try to keep the peace. Why haven't they just targeted Margaret herself yet? As long as they covered their tracks, the path to war might be delayed... although there is still the issue of the illegitimate heir...

I don't know if France being low harms her stance, but it surely harms her ability. It is one less ally she may call upon when to her mind, she requires strength of men (whatever their nationality or persuasion.)

That said, it is harder to poison (or kill in any other way) a Queen than an Earl. Though it is ahistorical, her man Pierre is nearly always by her side in one fashion or another.

Mwahaha! A dirty deed well done, though probably not dirt cheap. For a fee Hasting was happy to be Warwick’s back door man! Good to see Margaret thwarted, if only in an irritating way.

Oh Hastings got his, no doubt about it. Warwick pays well and has plenty of coin where that came from.

And you got in right before the wire as the next scene follows in just a bit. Slightly longer than usual, there was a lot to cover.

 

[coz1]

Westminster, February 1458​

Henry Beaufort sat to the corner of the tavern situated near to the towering presence of the palace. Being a cold night, the place was crowded with those wishing to find warmth and few looked to him as anything other than a wealthy patron. That was not uncommon for a place like this, especially because of the practice held upstairs. More than once, a serving wench had come to him asking for more than his order. Each time, Henry smiled and held up his ale already in hand, “This will do for now.”

Finally he turned with a smile as Edward bounded down the stairs with a large grin to his face. Henry laughed, “Well...I think you finally to be a man!”

“And not a moment too soon, Harry,” Edward sat with enthusiasm, “She was a bit larger than I’d like, but she had healthy teats. And a very talented mouth.”

“Ha!” Henry laughed, “I should hope so. It’s an art form and her cost suggested as much.”

Edward smiled to the tavern wench that brought him some ale and pinched her backside before turning back to his friend, “What about you? Did you find your fun?”

“This night was all for you, my young Earl,” Henry smiled and placed a hand to Edward’s knee, “It was about time for you to sow your oats...and hopefully somewhere other than with my sisters.”

The young man smiled in return, “Hah! As if you don’t look at my sister Meg when to her presence! Please!”

“You’ve a very attractive family,” Henry shrugged and then sipped at his drink with a wink, “What can I say?”

“You may be able to do better, my friend,” Edward suggested, “For I’m told that you may have a Scots princess to your future.”

Henry’s jovial mood suddenly dropped as he looked to Edward with a scowl, “Now where might you hear that?”

“Come now, Harry...” Edward answered him, “...surely it’s common knowledge. My cousin says to me, at least.”

“Your cousin Warwick?” the young Beaufort Duke questioned with certainty.

Edward smiled and held a hand to Henry’s shoulder, “Of course. And what could be poor about that?”

“Because the man is a murderer!” Henry answered strongly, “And as much a liar!”

“We’re here to have good cheer, Harry,” Edward suggested again, “From top to bottom...and what a nice bottom. The King says so and so we should enjoy it without opening old wounds.”

Henry sat back and softened slightly, “I like you, Ned. Yet sometimes I think you a bit thick. The King’s idea of peace, I don’t think, sees what is in front of him. And you. Trust your cousin if you wish. I shall not. I consider a truce with your father, because I like you and enjoy your company. Yet I shall never forgive Warwick and I think him the main party that causes this conference.”

“You wish to go back to it again?” Edward asked, “It’s been nearly three years, friend. You and I have spent many a good time together since. I had hoped this night to be another. While I know your sure offense, and I would not blame you for it, we cannot continue to relive it. With all of these magnates gathered together...surely we can find some peace.”

The young Duke sat closer, “I was not the only one that lost a father that day, Ned. Henry Percy, the younger...he and his brother Egremont may never forgive. That’s your cousin Warwick and his father’s doing. Baron Clifford? John is too close to Northumberland and near to my age. He has many years to hold a grudge.”

“Hold it he may,” Edward smiled, “Yet I see him not here and why should he or any other ruin our night?”

“It is not a thing to be made light of, sir,” Henry frowned.

Edward pulled him closer with a grin, “Come now, Harry. We may jest about many a thing, can we not? Do we not?”

“I do not jest about my father,” Henry said with certainty.

“Nor should you!” Edward clapped him to the shoulder and held up a hand, “Let me buy you a drink. In thanks for your largess on my part this night. We may not solve all of the worlds ills in one evening. Yet at the least, we may enjoy the trying?”

Henry was reticent at first but finally found a slim smile, “You are hard to resist, young Ned. Too charming for your own good.”

“I hope it so!” Edward grinned as he handed his friend the ale, “What are friends for if they cannot bring good cheer? Let all of those ill feelings out on the morrow. Tonight, Harry...we drink!”

And that they did. After a long night of imbibing, the two finally fumbled and stumbled their way back upstairs to find a bed. Neither one were in shape to return to their homes and the beds were plentiful for men with their coin. The next morning they woke up beside each other and neither wished to move.

“I think my head...it feels like a crushed melon,” Henry said softly.

Edward held up a hand, “Shhh...not so loud.”

“I do believe...” Henry rolled over to hang an arm to Edward’s shoulder, “...I believe we over did it.”

“I don’t remember much after the...third round? Eighth?” Edward confessed.

Henry crashed his head to the pillow, “I don’t either. I recall that by the end, they were buying us drinks.”

“Did we...make a spectacle?” Edward asked, “I hope not. That wouldn’t do well with...with people.”

“There is little telling, I hope,” Henry pulled Edward closer and looked to him, “If I appear half as bad as you...I think we are both done for.”

Edward smiled at first but then winced as he felt to Henry’s face, “You don’t look so bad, Harry...but you do have a black eye.”

The young Duke pulled away and sat up in the bed feeling at his own face. With a wince himself, he suggested, “That can’t be good.”

“No...I shouldn’t think so,” Edward answered, “Did we get into a fight?”

“I recall...” Henry thought about it with a cloudy head, “...no...I don’t recall.”

Edward laughed, “Well...I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

“I need to get dressed,” Henry suddenly moved with alacrity to find his clothes, “There is much to do today.”

The young Earl sighed, “And my father will be none too pleased when I venture home.”

“I suppose that is one good thing about being the man of the house,” Henry mused with a slight grin as he stood from the bed, “Few to tell you of your own shortcomings.”

Edward laughed, “I held no shortcomings last night, sir...I may tell you that!”

“No...no you did not,” Henry held his grin, “That part I remember. The rest? I hesitate to ask.”

“I imagine we’ll find out soon enough if it was too terrible,” Edward sat up in the bed, “I know you have much to do this day. Go and find your good looks again...if you can with that face. I can take care of myself.”

They both laughed as Henry made for the door, “I’ll see you later. Good luck to us both, Ned. God knows what the King might say?”

“Fare the well, Harry,” Edward waved and then fell back into the bed. Exhausted and with a headache, he was finally able to dress and make his way back to Baynard’s Castle doing his best to avoid his father, and especially his mother. The place was quiet this morning and so he found success. Yet when he went down to break his fast, both parents were quiet.

It was his brother Edmund that spoke up, “I dare say...you had little rest last night, brother.”

Duchess Cecily was quick to show him a sharp eye, “Burning your candles too late, sir?! Your father has much to happen and you will stand by his side. Gather yourself and present as proper!”

“Yes, mama...I will,” Edward answered as he looked to the food with a queasy stomach.

The Duke remained silently pensive as he looked over papers leaving Edmund to lean in and speak quietly, “You burned something last night, eh? You’ll tell me about it later?”

“Let’s just get through the day,” Edward replied without taking a bite.

After breaking their fast, the Duke of York rode with Edward to Westminster and the hall was teeming with Lords and Ladies all awaiting the King. York stood as tall as he might with his brother in law Salisbury and nephew Warwick soon joining. Standing next to the throne, the Earl of Wiltshire offered them a sneer but otherwise remained silent. The Duke of Buckingham stood close and the Duke of Exeter eyed his father in law but said not a word. Eventually the chamberlain made the announcement of the King and Queen and they presented with the young Prince, now four years in age.

King Henry was slow to his throne, but sat with a sigh. He then looked up with a quizzical face, “We do not see all parties here.”

The Earl of Wiltshire leaned closer, “I’m sure to arrive in a moments notice, Your Grace.”

“Well that is too poor,” Henry showed an inconvenience.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was also close and spoke softly, “I am sure a matter of timing, Your Grace. They would not miss this, I am certain.”

The prelate was not wrong because the doors of the hall were soon knocked upon and then many men pushed forward through the crowd, not least of which were the Earl of Northumberland Henry Percy, Baron Clifford and a weary looking Henry Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset. It was the Earl that spoke for them all, “Your Grace, we come forth as we do and in the manner for which we display because we demand restitution. These men...these men that stand here before you have broken a solemn vow. A promise to you in which they swore their fealty. That we stand here today in their presence is only due to your own love and kindness and the honor that we owe to you, Your Grace. Our own promise in which we and ours have stood for you. Yet they did not. We...”

The King held up a hand, “Yes...yes...that is the very reason for this conference...this council.”

“You should let them speak, husband,” Margaret whispered to him.

King Henry looked to his cousin Richard and then raised a hand, “Very well. Speak your words, our Lord of Northumberland.”

Percy continued, “If it is to your great disfavor, Your Grace, to show such numbers in your presence we must apologize. Yet we do not feel safe around these men. Too much harm and injury has been done to ours by them and we each show our wounds to you now. Myself, I am lost of an honored father. So has your Lord Clifford, his father a Baron under your name and lost his life defending your crown. This Lord Duke that stands before you...his own father one of the most trusted upon Council and to your favor. The actions of these men...and I shall name them...the Lord Duke of York, named Plantagenet and your very own kin. The Lord Earl of Salisbury and once your Lord Chancellor. The Lord Earl of Warwick and at this moment still named Captain of Calais. These men did treat you foully and to them that do so, they should be punished!”

“We must ask...” King Henry suggested as he looked down from his throne with an unkind eye, “...do you not see what has been accomplished? What we are attempting to accomplish? To bring such ill and poor favor to an end?”

The Northumberland Earl offered a bow, “Your Grace would ever be loving, sire...yet these men live still and ours do not. In service of your own.”

“His Grace is well aware of the wounds from that day,” the Duke of Buckingham stepped forward, “I myself show them as does he. Yet in his capacity of grace, and as you say love, he would see us made whole and this put behind us.”

“Quite so,” King Henry followed, “Our body still shows the scar and it is a wound felt by all of England. We would see it healed.”

“I beg apology, Your Grace,” Baron Clifford spoke out, “Yet my father will never be healed. He is dead, sire, and so our entire family feels that great scar!”

“As do mine,” the Earl of Northumberland followed and looked to young Somerset.

With as much voice as he could muster, Henry Beaufort answered, “No man loved you more, Your Grace. My brothers and sisters...my mother...all are without.”

The King showed a sad eye but remained firm, “And so it is that we must avoid any further recurrence of such travesty. It is in our minds, and the law of God Almighty, that we cease this trouble. We would see England rejoice, in concord and unity.”

“That is well and good, Your Grace,” Richard of York stood forward, “A fine thought and more. I for my part cannot assuage the sure sorrow that is felt by some. Yet if I may do some part to allow for comity...I would not hesitate, Your Grace.”

Clifford looked to him in anger, “Do you admit your crimes?!”

“Indeed, my Lord of York...” Henry Beaufort shared a brief look to Edward before following in accusation, “...can you answer for your men here...and yourself...in the death of our sires?!”

Richard looked first to the King and then to them in answer to the charge, “Though I am not to the docket, I will respond to this in the only way that I may. I hold charge. Have held and will continue to do so. His Grace is my blood and kin. I would place my life before him in protection. If any action I have made has caused harm, it was done so in his service. I’ll not apologize for it, but...I do know that many have found a great sadness. I would do, for my part, all that I may to make amends and speak to the idea of peace that His Grace so assuredly desires.”

“We thank you for your words,” the King stood slowly and looked to them all, “And we thank you all for this gathering before God. Amends is proper, it would seem. Does our Lord of York find preparedness to compensate?”

“Compensate, Your Grace?” Richard of York asked.

Henry Percy was as much confused, “How may he compensate for a life, Your Grace?!”

“There be no way to bring them back,” the King answered plainly to the Earl and then looked to Richard, “Yet God has mercy. There are three dead souls among many others living within the bosom of Our Lord. We would think it proper to found and endow a chantry to the Abbey of St. Edmunds. A place to gather and commemorate and say masses for these three poor perished Lords. Songs to sing for perpetuity. Could this be some thing that you may do?”

“I...” Richard looked to both Salisbury and Warwick and with agreeing nods, continued. “...I believe so, Your Grace. I should think it both warranted and proper.”

Baron Clifford remained angry, “That does not bring them back, Your Grace, nor answer for their perfidy!”

“We would answer, my Lord...” the King looked to him before training his eye back to his cousin of York, “We also declare that a sum of coin should be offered to the parties at question. A notable sum of money should be given to the widows of these fine Lords and paid forthwith without delay. We shall issue a proclamation to that effect.”

Warwick began to speak but Richard stopped him with a hand, “I would of course do, Your Grace. We all shall do. Anything to bring you and us all peace.”

“Good!” King Henry clapped, “Then may we all agree? We have wish to see this whole realm at peace. Would anyone wish another? All of the bad feeling...all of the trouble...can we not find God’s favor as much as our own? Grace, my Lords...we are anointed as such and would wish it for all. If you truly, each and every one, show your fealty and honor towards this crown and this throne...would you not wish to see less poor and more rich...a better country and realm? A better feeling?”

There was not a magnate in that gathering that really believed it, but King Henry continued, “We hope to show a day of love. A tradition in which we all stand together. Show the peoples of this realm that we stand under the realm of God Almighty. For we are all His servants. The ax...the sword...the pike...these are not weapons of love. Not a thing countenanced by the Grace of God. We as your King would see peace. For that is what God demands.”

Archbishop Bourchier of Canterbury was the only one that showed great favor at the King’s idea, but Duke Richard of York stepped forward and bent to a knee, “I would do all that you wish, Your Grace. You are sovereign and we all of us should follow such example.”

The Earl of Salisbury and, reluctantly, the Earl of Warwick followed in bending their knee. Slowly, so too did the Earl of Northumberland and the Duke of Somerset. Baron Clifford was the last to show reverence. At once, the entire chamber of Lords and Ladies did the same and King Henry finally allowed a smile.

 

[Kurt_Steiner]

This bad blood is only to bring more blood. At least Maggie was quite harmless in this scene. Behind the courtains, we shall see.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

At least York has finally learnt how to make it seem that he is the honorable and peaceful party in everything.

 

[El Pip]

At least York has finally learnt how to make it seem that he is the honourable and peaceful party in everything.

A few years late, but perhaps not too late to have an effect. Any sum in compensation is trivial compared to the goodwill it will earn and if it sways even a couple of nobles to his side it will have been worth it.

That aside a somewhat depressing update, the King clearly has absolutely no idea how to sort out the problems in his kingdom and the younger generation are well on the way to being indoctrinated to continue on the feuds.

A shame really as the Henry and Edmund opening parts seemed brighter, at least until the old wounds opened up.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

This bad blood is only to bring more blood. At least Maggie was quite harmless in this scene. Behind the courtains, we shall see.

Margaret was getting rather what she wanted in that scene so of course she would be on good behavior. Not likely to last.

At least York has finally learnt how to make it seem that he is the honorable and peaceful party in everything.

Yes, a little action to back up his word is nice. That said, he probably doesn't like it.

A few years late, but perhaps not too late to have an effect. Any sum in compensation is trivial compared to the goodwill it will earn and if it sways even a couple of nobles to his side it will have been worth it.

That aside a somewhat depressing update, the King clearly has absolutely no idea how to sort out the problems in his kingdom and the younger generation are well on the way to being indoctrinated to continue on the feuds.

A shame really as the Henry and Edmund opening parts seemed brighter, at least until the old wounds opened up.

Agreed on Richard. He and Warwick can spare the coin being such wealthy magnates and it does go a long way to propping up his suggested desire (whether he means it or not.) And pleasing Henry is always top of the mind even if he is ready to thwart him when/if the time comes.

Yet even if it pleases Henry, it doesn't please the ones that lost family. One might say that a deal that pleases neither party is a good deal, but this is the middle ages we are talking about.

As to the start of the scene, I'm pleased it came off that way. I've tried to build the friendship between Edward and Henry Beaufort in small samples over time so I'm glad it seems to be working. It is not entirely ahistorical, but I am going farther with it than most of what I've read. It seems natural to me that two young Lords (late teens and early 20's) might be able to join in friendship during this time, especially when so many of the other Lords are much older. Of course, much like all else, the question remains. How far will it go and will it be lasting? Only time will tell.


To all - I rather enjoyed writing that scene. It had a little of everything. And the "Loveday" is exactly what happened. It's not quite over and will be covered in the next scene which will close out this chapter. Look for that on Saturday (probably before I join in the forum video meet up.) And then sometime next week, we will start on Chapter 12 which (spoiler alert) is simply titled Warwick.

One more time allow me to plug the Year end AwAARds. Voting ends in at the start of February and we are still in great need of voices to make our little contest as fair and accurate as possible. Please consider your local writAAR and their works. Doesn't have to be this one but please do vote as there are so many great works and writAARs out there.

Finally, thank you as always for reading and giving comment. Every little bit helps push me along and there is soooo much more to cover.

 

[coz1]

Baynard’s Castle, March 1458​

The parties to the hall were not pleased. Not a one of them. The most offended was Duke Richard of York and he stewed by the large hearth, “That was a humiliation!”

“Indeed, I am not certain which was worse, my Lord,” Warwick suggested, “That you were made to walk hand and hand with the Queen on the procession, or that we were made to march along with our Percy rivals.”

At one time the voice of reason, the Earl of Salisbury could not help but to agree, “Damnable Northumberland particularly beamed as if in victory. He and his brother Egremont face no charge for their actions and we are all to blame.”

Warwick gave nod, “And young Beaufort...he shot daggers to me entirely. I had thought the man to be friendly to your son, my Lord.”

“Ned did not kill his father,” Richard kept his harsh gaze to the fire, “I did tell you that our actions would have consequences.”

Salisbury gave quick nod, “As I told you, Dickon. While it was right and proper to rid the realm of an evil influence, I fear that we have only awakened a more ferocious beast.”

“Her nails dug into my arm for the entire walk to St. Paul’s,” Richard turned slightly and then back to the fire, “This loveday as the King would wish to call it was no thing of the sort. A farce to please him...yet most lining the streets were retainers that would have easily drawn a blade as much as clap.”

Warwick showed disgust, “While I am out a thousand marks to Clifford and his and none of them pays a jot. I did lose men myself, you know!”

“And I am out five thousand, sir,” York finally turned with anger still, “While still being banished, as it were, to Ireland where the people grow restless.”

Salisbury stepped to him, “You are not banished, brother...merely put aside. How did this happen?”

“Because of her!” Richard stormed to pour himself a drink, “This French whore proves more gumption than even I had thought. While I knew her as one with guile, she shows a tenacity for which I did not count. Not when I am unable to keep the King’s ear.”

“He shows a difference,” Salisbury suggested, “Outwardly, he appears as King. Yet he is far too inward at the now. He is absorbed by his devotions and foundations, leaving most decisions to her.”

Warwick sat with irritation, “She never should have been allowed to bring the King to her side.”

“How could I stop her?” Richard turned, “With Buckingham...Devon...even the Archbishop all breathing down my neck! Parliament demanded it! My own son in law would keep my daughter from me were I not to relent! All would wish to show to court and there is no court without the King’s presence!”

Salisbury allowed a thought, “You might have followed court yourself, brother...gone to Coventry and held your own.”

“I promised the King my cousin that I would not publicly fight with her,” York moved back to the hearth, “And there is no standing next to her in private without rancor.”

“Because she detests you, my Lord,” Warwick replied, “For every wrong reason.”

York stewed for a moment and said under his breath, “I think her to detest you as much, sir.”

“Well, no matter the why of it...” Salisbury offered, “...there is a fact that remains. I think her not to relent. As long as she is able to practice in this mummery and holds the strings of power, we will be as we were before. Out and not in. And frankly, I believe hunted.”

Richard poked with force to stoke the fire, “You have the right of it there, brother. She grows in her affinity and brings them all along against us.”

“Not Devon,” Warwick suggested with a slight grin.

When Richard turned with a harsh eye, the younger Earl dropped it, “I apologize, my Lord. I merely meant to suggest that not all would remain around forever.”

“He is not wrong, Dickon,” replied, “We must choose our allies carefully. Some old and some new. Not every one has placed a marker and yet remain an influence. Only God may know why, but Norfolk has gone on pilgrimage yet we know that John will return. With help from my sister Katherine, she may influence her husband. Kat has always been fond of your own wife, our sister as she is the babe of the family. Cis may be of worth here.”

York turned back to the hearth, “My Lady wife is always a help.”

“Further still...” Salisbury turned to his son, “...how does our brother do with Lord Talbot?”

Warwick stood to refill his cup, “The Earl of Shrewsbury remains an enigma. He’s a tough old soldier which you both would know. Yet he is as stubborn in knowing as he is in battle. Lord Fauconberg maintains relations with him as they regard each other well from the old wars, but to my hearing he remains noncommittal.”

“The firing of his son and replacement with Wiltshire as Treasurer did not change his mind?” Richard turned with irritation.

“I did not get the notion that he cared much either way when I met with him,” Warwick replied, “He has been away for some time, so he may not be terribly close with his son.”

Salisbury made point, “Yet...with these two, we might make a connection. Norfolk’s only son the Earl of Surrey did marry Talbot’s daughter. They have yet to see issue, but we may be able to use this to create an alliance.”

“As well, my Lord...” Warwick continued, “...it may be well that Talbot remains to Maine. He is old, but remains formidable. I’d rather have him holding against France than us. And the French King is so...poor.”

Richard of York took a drink and then thought before giving reply, “If he cannot be for us, then I agree. Better there than here. Yet in all of this, I tire of biding time. Allies may be won and lost over a period, but as each day drags on...we will return to all of the bad that was before. As if Somerset never died. All of our efforts to reform government...for naught. And our own reputations ruined.”

“On that score...” Salisbury looked to his brother in law with a curious eye, “...should we not return to the subject of the now Duke of Somerset?”

York turned to him with question, “To what end? He hates your son and I doubt very much that he holds much love for me.”

“All likely true,” the elder Earl gave nod, “Yet he does hold faith with your son the Earl of March. My son tells me that they are close...mayhap unnaturally close...”

“What are you saying?!” York insisted.

Salisbury held up his hands to calm, “In that it is unique that they may be such friends while we, all of us, maintain such enmity. Towards my son, indeed...that will never cease. Yet the young Beaufort Duke does not fully commit to the Queen, it seems. Her charms, such that they are, do not seem to have pulled him so close like it did with the father. An avenue, brother. Young Ned is nearly a man grown and holds as much challenge as we might. Northumberland will never change, nor his kin. Buckingham will be...Buckingham. Yet to peel away the Beaufort influence...is that not worth it?”

“I have sent Cecily and my sons back to Ludlow,” Richard answered as he shifted back to the fire, “I am soon to join them.”

“And the King is soon to St. Albans to keep Easter, sir,” Salisbury followed, “Leaving his Queen alone...likely to Greenwich. If we have made fault, it is to leave her to her own devices. Allow her time...she will turn the boy...the young Duke.”

York kept his eyes to the flames, “I should not like to give my Lady wife yet another reason to be cross with me. She is already charged by these events. To invite the Beaufort Duke...she likes him not.”

“You need not invite him, uncle,” Warwick suggested, “As you return to Ludlow and maintain your family...young Edmund, by the way, already shows his own promise...yet Edward...Ned...as has been said, my Lord...he is a man grown. Has been to court. Will need to be for his future as your heir. I believe my father suggests that he be sent back. Keep his faith and time with his friend, the Duke of Somerset.”

“And in so doing...” Salisbury followed, “...hold him perhaps away from the Queen.”

Richard of York stoked the fire again and thought. He looked to the flames and finally gave nod, “I imagine that we all have our charges. I will likely need to be back to Ireland soon enough. You, nephew, will and should return to Calais. Brother? You will surely be back to Middleham and do what you must. You are right that Percy will never change. So...mayhap it is time that Ned...do his part.”

“He is a sharp young man,” Salisbury gave nod, “I believe that he knows his path.”

The Duke turned to them both, “Yet we cannot rest. We will be called to challenge again and the next time...we needs must not be caught so unawares. We know now the true enemy. She will not leave off until we are removed...and harshly so. Nephew...when you return to Calais, you would do what you are able to pursue relations with Philip of Burgundy. We’ve met the son and he can be an ally. Even the French...they are a wounded animal and may respond to a healing care. Her uncle will always support her, but there remain many others to that place.”

“I think most wise, my Lord,” Warwick gave nod, “I will do.”

York then looked to Salisbury with a plea in his eye, “And brother...we are now beyond the bridge. There is no going back. It is flooded and washed away so we must ever press forward. As I have always counted upon you, I will count on you now. I know well that you will have your issues to the north, but I ask of you. Will you remain to stand with me?”

“Dickon...I have always offered my mind to your conscience,” Salisbury replied, “I will continue to do so until the day that I perish. You know well that I would challenge you if I think you in the wrong. In this...as we do...I agree with you. I believe that we should be careful...yet we must press on.”

End of Chapter 11​

 

[HistoryDude]

Margaret's supporters won this round... but the war will destroy them.

York is growing ever closer to outright rebellion...

 

[Kurt_Steiner]

The second French She-Wolf seems to be working hard to undo the kingdom again. No lessons learnt.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Margaret's supporters won this round... but the war will destroy them.

York is growing ever closer to outright rebellion...

It is amazing to me how many times Margaret finds victory, but as Richard mentions...she has gumption. And tenacity. I suppose being Queen doesn't hurt either, at least for her own betterment.

The second French She-Wolf seems to be working hard to undo the kingdom again. No lessons learnt.

I don't need to tell you...she has no care whatsoever about the Kingdom. It is all for Margaret of Anjou and her son.


To all - So I rather glanced at the Love Day, but I hope it works. We see the beginnings of it and then the result (or what is assumed the result.) I probably could have gone into much greater detail, but it seemed superfluous. We get the idea and the after is more important (to me, at least.) As @HistoryDude suggests above, the Yorkists are tiring of this back and forth and the reality is sinking in. There was some chuckling on the video call some of us forumites had the other night about how long it has taken to get to this point, but I've always considered the lead up just as if not more important to the eventual break out of hostilities. In truth, I could have easily begun this under the reign of Richard II (which I maintain is the real outbreak of the WOTR) but then we'd never get to this point within the decade.

As to process, I will begin posting Chapter 12 tomorrow so those hoping to catch up still have some time. In the writing, I am just about to the end of Chapter 13 and things are getting a bit hairy. Both in action and my own ability to write it. I'm excited to get there and spoiler alert...we've been waiting for it for quite a long time.

In other news, I'd like to highlight an AAR that @DensleyBlair hipped me to on our video call - @Great Mantis 's EUIV AAR Rend the Thorns: An English AAR which covers a period that may or may not be where we end up. As I'm catching up on that, I see some familiar readers but those not reading it likely should. If you like this work, you will enjoy that one.

And I must once more highlight the still ongoing 2022 AARland Year-end AwAARds that has one last week for voters to lend their voice. We are still behind our usual voting numbers so I hope that not only do you vote (if you have not already) but please do feel free to advertise in your own AARs (without any campaigning, please.) I plug it because I run it, not because I desire your vote for this work. I want to see all of the best and favorites of this forum rewarded as they rightly should be. So vote, vote, vote!

Finally, and as always, thank you so much for reading and giving comment! I really could not write this without you.

 

[Historywhiz]

I just think it’s insane that at this moment in time, nobody is pointing out to Margaret that “madam, you’re already the bloody Queen of France! Just stop standing in York and Talbot’s way to make you so!”

 

[coz1]

I just think it’s insane that at this moment in time, nobody is pointing out to Margaret that “madam, you’re already the bloody Queen of France! Just stop standing in York and Talbot’s way to make you so!”

Oh, they would love to send her back any way they could. However, I imagine Louis the Dauphin might have some issue with that.

Somewhat on that score, see the next scene.

 

[coz1]

Chapter 12: Warwick

* * *

Calais, April 1458​

The Earl of Warwick Richard Neville walked forcefully through the chamber door and tossed his bags aside, “Uncle...tell me how things go to here.”

“Much the same, sir,” William Neville Baron Fauconberg answered him as he handed the Earl a warm cup, “The merchants remain concerned by piracy and no little amount of anxiousness due to the happenings in England.”

Warwick smelled the heated brew and tossed it to the fire, “Did you not hear? We all love each other again. What joy!”

“Not to your liking?” the Baron laughed.

“Give me strong wine,” Warwick answered, “And I shall tell you why.”

At the request, Fauconberg searched and found a cask as he inquired, “The Lord of York remains right sore?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it...yes, he does,” Warwick replied as he pulled a chair close to the hearth, “And he be not the only one. Our treasuries are drained at the expense of those that lost fathers, the King seems a priest these days and that damnable bitch rules supreme!”

“As bad as that?” the Baron served up a goblet, “So this Love Day is just a mummery?”

Warwick drank it down and then sat his goblet to the stone floor, “Mummers would at least be enjoyable. This is forcemeat. Even your brother, my father agrees. I see no way to achieve peace with this Queen anymore. She poisons any ear against us given every chance and will not cease until she sees us all put low.”

“Yet you remain Captain of Calais, nephew,” Fauconberg pulled another chair to the fire, “There remains that and we have done well in recruitment to here.”

The Earl stared to the flames for a bit before turning, “Has there been any more luck with Talbot?”

“Obstinate as ever,” Fauconberg answered, “Yet he does not commit.”

“I suppose a bonus,” Warwick remain in a foul mood, “And Sir John? Does Wenlock arrive?”

Fauconberg gave nod, “A week hence. I believe him happier to here than wrangling with those to Parliament.”

“Good...then call him,” the Earl stood and pulled off his surcoat before moving to refill his cup.

The Baron did so and Sir John Wenlock was soon to the chamber, “My Lord Earl, well met to see you arrive.”

“We are to be busy, sirs, so let us get to it,” Warwick answered as he sat back to his chair, “We hold one charge...or mayhap three. The goal is to make an ally or more. As you both know, we must hold trade with Burgundy at top priority. The merchants to here would require it as would those in England. Protection for them is a charge and the best way to do so is finding friendships.”

Fauconberg questioned, “Two points, nephew...did not your last meeting with the Count of Charolais go poorly? And more, I cannot imagine that Philip of Burgundy is pleased by your recent plundering of their ships.”

“All manner of things may happen at sea, sir,” Warwick allowed a slight grin, “Yet the best way to renew partnership is a marriage alliance.”

“A match to make with Burgundy?” Sir John asked.

Warwick replied quickly, “There are several options and to be sure, I would think we should not restrict ourselves only to Duke Philip. Whatever his place after the peace, Charles remains King of France and there is another...King Henri of Champagne. All of these are potential partners and we ought not leave a stone unturned in finding them.”

“Who is to be matched?” the Baron questioned.

The Earl grinned, “Once again, I have several ideas. On my way to here, I have looked at these houses and find in them some few candidates. To our side, I think the greatest offer we might have is the Prince.”

“His age is not prohibitive...” Sir John suggested, “...yet, do we not question?”

Warwick answered without reservation, “We mean not to follow through with it! It is the promise that matters. To dangle the possibility before them and see if they would bite. See who would be friend. I hold a relationship with Charles of Burgundy, whatever it might be, yet I would prefer to hold one with his father. He is Duke, after all. And France? Whatever they are, they remain a power. Anything to keep them from giving promise of soldiers to the Queen would be preferable. Henri d’Albret? He has carved out a kingdom for himself and may well desire our friendship to counter his neighbors. Each offers a mutually beneficial ally and if we do it well, we might be able to play each off the other.”

“A bold but risky plan, nephew,” Fauconberg suggested.

The Earl smiled, “No thing ever was gained without being bold in the face of risk, uncle.”

“Will not the Queen find fault to see her son offered as such?” Wenlock asked.

“I care not what she thinks,” Warwick replied, “She need not know. If she should find out? So be it.”

Sir John questioned again, “You mean to provoke her?”

“Sir, she is already provoked,” the Earl did not seem to care, “Our aim is for our own tending. The future is uncertain, so we should take all effort to ensure our own safety.”

“If you follow on with this, my Lord...” Wenlock asked, “...who then would you suggest as a match for the Prince?”

Lord Fauconberg gave nod, “Indeed, nephew...you say that you have poured over these genealogies. What poor girl would find his promise?”

The Earl of Warwick stood to find a bag and pulled from it several papers, “We start with Burgundy, of course. As a prince of England...whatever he may really be...no thing less than a princess would do. None of these figures are without a wife. Too poor as a reigning monarch would be ideal. And in Burgundy, we may not offer to Charles for he has found his bride despite his long ago wish for Margaret of York.”

“As I recall, Richard offered and Charles demurred due to age,” Fauconberg suggested.

Warwick shrugged, “No matter the circumstance, Charles is now married and he and his Isabella of Bourbon now have a young daughter. Any available girl child from Philip is a bastard...of which he has many and that would be humorous...but they would not take us seriously if we offered it.”

“News of that did come to us not so long ago, sir,” Fauconberg allowed, “Yet this child Mary...she is barely a year in age.”

Warwick turned to him quickly, “Again, uncle, it is merely a suggestion. And the so-called Prince himself is hardly five.”

“My Lord Earl does make a good suggestion,” Wenlock replied, “One even the Queen herself might countenance. If she were not so beholden to her uncle.”

The Earl showed a grin, “Ah...well then let us look to the French court. All King Charles has to offer would be his youngest daughter Princess Madeleine. She is five and ten, so...much older than the Prince...”

“And cousins,” Fauconberg suggested.

“Who might care about that?” Warwick looked to his uncle, “We are all bloody cousins. Yet she is comely I understand and would be the least objectionable were the Queen to hear about it.”

Lord Fauconberg kept in question, “Would Charles of France even treat with us on this or any other? He is surely aware of our...troubles...and would be skeptical.”

“I should think that Charles of what is left of France would treat with anyone if he thought it might save his crown,” Warwick answered, “It is but a tease, uncle. Yet I do have a third option...a third tease. King Henri of Champagne holds a daughter as well. Her name is Marie and while even older than the French princess, he too might wish to raise his stock, as it were. What better promise than a Prince of England?”

“Hmm...nephew...” the Baron skewed an eye, “...I remain unsure. Why again are we dangling the Prince? I am certain that it would be seen as a prize, but helps us not. Would it not be better to provide eligible and other highly prized matches? Certainly the Lord of York holds two daughters near to age. Do you not think that such might be better for our cause?”

Warwick smiled, “I have not passed it by him, and he would of course wish such, yet I have considered that. His Elizabeth is now eight and ten. Certainly of age and Henri of Champagne has a third son named Arnaud. Trouble there is, I believe him already betrothed. Yet I think more promising may be the newborn son of Louis the Dauphin.”

“A babe, my Lord?” Wenlock questioned with incredulity.

“It rather kills two birds with one stone, I should think,” Warwick grinned, “Young Margaret is two years younger than her sister, and while the object of the Count’s eye, mayhap, to offer sweet Meg to Louis who remains at the Burgundian court might truly play off one against the other. It is an intricate web to these parts. We should be players and the King of France will not live forever. Both are now regional powers and so we should allow any chance to drive a wedge while keeping both close.”

Baron Fauconberg skewed an eye, “I am still unsure that I buy it, nephew. If we are to look at York’s progeny, why not his sons? This child Mary of Burgundy is far too young for them, but as to the other princesses...Edward is sixteen and Edmund just younger at five and ten. Would not both be excellent matches with either Madeleine of France or Marie of Champagne? Surely better than a questionable prince.”

“I count nothing out in this endeavor, uncle,” Warwick answered, “Yet I believe York rather singular is his match efforts after the first. Exeter has proved a disappointment and neither your sister the Duchess nor the Duke are happy about it at the now. He would wish a loftier goal for his sons, I believe. I would happily match mine own girls with his, yet I think him to consider something more prestigious.”

Fauconberg countered, “Yet if you are considering marrying such small children, why not the girl to Burgundy? Is that not the true goal? I’ve been with your uncle...my brother in law...and have seen him dangle a child for his purpose. This Mary of Burgundy is young, surely, but she will grow. Is it too much to wait for ten years? I believe a far better connection and the Count of Charolais will inherit. And has also showed that he does not hold trouble matching with the house of York.”

“It would be more than ten years, sir,” Sir John suggested.

“That did not stop Margaret Beaufort, did it?” Lord Fauconberg answered to them both, “She was hardly three and ten at the time and now holds a Tudor son. One more challenge. What is it that we play at here?”

Warwick showed an understanding nod, “You are right, uncle. And you point to it well. We play. We play for time, though we have little of it. It grows short and these efforts are not to see an end result. It is a promise of result so that we may hold potential enemies at bay. I do not think your suggestions poor. Edward is...willful. Edmund, I think, would do as told. Yet you know the Lord of York as well as any. I do not think that he would enter into any negotiation without true purpose. His honor is everything. His word, even more.”

“Then it is tricky,” the Baron replied, “If the best we have to hold to is a bastard Prince...you and yours will need to be overly charming. These are not mayors or Counts...nor even Dukes. You are speaking to sovereign Lords with all that it entails. If you wish for friendship, I will give you a piece of advice, my nephew. Trust is everything. Loyalty even more. And they will know it if you are false.”

“Which is why I sent for Sir John, here...” Warwick pointed to the knight, “...for he shows no thing but honor.”

“I thank you, my Lord,” Wenlock bowed his head.

Warwick looked to him, “I will send you to these courts, sir. I wished you here for this discussion so that you may know what we do. Show no thing but unity. We are all one to England. That is all they need know. Disparage any rumor and talk only of the King. Let them all know that the Lord of York is behind him in every way should they hold question. And let them know that I would be more than pleased to entertain them or travel to their court should they have further question. I would make friends to this continent and make them useful. That...among all things...is our purpose.”