The Wars of the Roses

[Bullfilter]

Margaret has always striven to be her own self-fulfilling prophecy. One of doom and division. Yet Henry cannot escape his own weakness, York his conflicting interests (to the crown, his own people and the wider kingdom, and all the other magnates making their own selfish and altruistic calculations. “She’s gonna blow!”

 

[Midnite Duke]

Henry looks strong for a moment and then blinks and he's again himself.

English kings and French queen doesn't seem to match.

Henry II and Eleanor?

The little prince, who buys father day cards in bulk, is Henry's life insurance policy as the Yorks have a use for him as long as Edward draws breath.

 

[coz1]

More fb-fb:

Henry looks strong for a moment and then blinks and he's again himself.

English kings and French queen doesn't seem to match.

Henry is back and forth, no doubt. And indeed there is a history with that pairing.

Margaret has always striven to be her own self-fulfilling prophecy. One of doom and division. Yet Henry cannot escape his own weakness, York his conflicting interests (to the crown, his own people and the wider kingdom, and all the other magnates making their own selfish and altruistic calculations. “She’s gonna blow!”

Quite true. Margaret has always imagined this battle but now it truly is upon her.

Henry II and Eleanor?

The little prince, who buys father day cards in bulk, is Henry's life insurance policy as the Yorks have a use for him as long as Edward draws breath.

That is true as regards the Prince. As to Henry and Eleanor, it was not always a great success between those two.


To all - Next scene arrives in just a moment.

 

[coz1]

Calais, July 1459​

Sir Andrew Trollope kicked the dirt in the yard as he waited. The Earl had called a meet and as he watched the soldiers train, he leaned to the castle walls. Soon he was joined by his younger friend Sir John Blount and smiled, “You’ve snuck over into Burgundy, haven’t you?”

“There was a lass to Arras that I had need to see,” Sir John answered with a grin.

Trollope offered a sing song reply, “A lass to Arras...may her chest be the best.”

“A poet you are not, sir,” Blount laughed, “Yet...it was.”

Sir Andrew looked to the distance, “Well, tis no matter and I hope it good for you because it may be the last you receive for some time.”

“God I hope not!” Blount replied.

“Then look ye there,” Trollope pointed, “Here comes his Lordship and he looks fit to be tied.”

The Earl of Warwick strode forth as proud as he was and looked to the elder knight with a keen eye, “You’ve been to these parts for some time, have you not, Trollope?”

“I should say so, my Lord,” Trollope answered, “Master Porter to this place and have been for a few years.”

Warwick showed him a narrowed brow, “Yet you have served the port of Calais in more ways than one. I’ve looked at your record and your exploits go back a far ways.”

“Tis true, my Lord,” Trollope replied, “I reckon I have not seen true English soil for these past thirty years or more.”

Over the Earl’s shoulder, Baron Fauconberg questioned, “Surely you did upon your marriage to the sister of Osbert Mundeford.”

Sir Andrew smiled to the elder Neville, “I cannot say as I did, my Lord. My Lizzie is a sweet girl, but we were married to Caen. I do miss my days to Normandy...yet it is a hop, skip and a jump, is it not?”

The Earl peered at him with a questioning eye, “Mundeford is a Beaufort protege, is he not?”

“Well...he was, I suppose...whatever that means,” Trollope answered, “These days he drinks himself silly. Yet I was glad for the connection.”

The Earl of Warwick did not mince words as he pressed, “I have seen from your record that you first served under the original Duke of Somerset in Picardy.”

“To be true, my Lord...” Trollope corrected, “...I began my adventures to here under Sir Thomas Burgh as a master of arms. At Tombelaine. Then served under John Fastolf and then later under Sir Matthew Gough.”

Warwick grinned, “And then after that under Lord Rivers, is that not so?”

“If I hold a sourced file then you have read it, my Lord,” Trollope gave nod with a smile, “Would you like me to tell you how it felt to surrender Fresnay when it fell for I could easily express it to you?”

“Do you hold an idea why I ask you here today?” Warwick answered the question with his own and a curious eye.

Trollope looked from his friend Blount back to the Earl, “I have an idea. Indeed, my Lord. Though I would be thankful for an explanation.”

“You will hear what we tell you, sir!” Baron Fauconberg replied as order.

Trollope shrugged, “I would take any hearing.”

“You served under Talbot, didn’t you?” Warwick asked with a wry smile.

“I did...rather indirectly,” Trollope answered, “Though I did meet the old man once. As you may imagine...he was all business.”

“And what of you, sir?” Warwick continued his questioning, “Are you all business?”

Sir Andrew smiled, “Once more, my Lord...if you have seen my record, you would not need to ask. I believe they call me a “freebooter” and it is likely deserved. You would know all about that, would you not, my Lord?”

“Indeed...” Warwick peered to him with interest, “...you have been to Calais for a time. I then wonder…how would you care to go back to England?”

With a look to Blount, Sir Andrew showed a smile, “As I say, my Lord...it has been quite a long time. I should like to say yes. Though I should ask...for what cause?”

“I have need of you, if that is not plain enough,” Warwick replied pointing to the yard, “Here we see men at arms at training and more archers to boot. I am raising as many as I can and I believe you have some few that are as hard as they come.”

“My men are good at what they do...as am I,” Trollope again looked to Blount before turning back, “Yet, my Lord...what is the mission?”

Warwick offered him a hard stare, “I would ask that you say you will do and then I may tell you, sir. Are you loyal?”

Sir Andrew lowered his grin and stared firmly back, “These days, my Lord...loyalty comes with it a price. I would protect Calais with all of my worth for my life to here is a pretty picture with my bride and my sweet daughter. I believe I have already made you some coin to prove my ability at that. I am unsure what now you ask of me, but if you tell me...I would answer.”

“Are you a soldier or not?!” the Baron pressed.

The Earl of Warwick held up a hand, “Now, now...uncle, let us be not so piercing. This is a man of fortune and who could deny that? I may tell you, sir...you know who I am. If you do not believe that I could reward you...well then...who could you believe?”

“I ask you again, my Lord...” Trollope looked to them both, “...what is the mission?”

“I would like to say that it is rather simple,” Warwick replied, “Yet I cannot. Do you see around you?”

Trollope looked again to the yard, “I do, my Lord.”

“Then you will see many men of my affinity. Outfitted in mine own livery and badge.”

“One may not resist the red jacket,” Trollope showed a smile.

Warwick returned the smile, “I hope it not. For each and every one will be needed. Including yourself.”

Sir Andrew looked once more to the yard and then back to the Earl with a more serious eye, “You are preparing an army, sir...my Lord. I would ask to what end...yet I believe that I do know.”

“Then you would also know how serious this is,” Warwick replied, “We are short on numbers and thus would require great leadership.”

The aged knight gestured to speak with the Earl in private, “I would have more question.”

Warwick smiled as he followed, “And I might answer.”

“You would...” Trollope looked back to make sure they were alone and then asked in secret, “...you would go after the Queen?”

“I do no such thing, sir,” the Earl shook his head, “My father is in peril. I go to his aid. Both he and my uncle have written to me requesting such assistance and I must rally an army to them. For their protection.”

“Hm,” Trollope scratched at his bearded chin, “The King will have more force...from what I hear.”

Warwick put an arm around him and leaned in, “Are you frightened?”

“The men I hold round me are hardened and ready for anything, my Lord...” Trollope began to say but the Earl stopped him.

“So you would not be scared of a few young boys mustered from Chester?”

Trollope showed a serious eye, “Tis more than a few young boys, my Lord. I am not an innocent. I do know what happens.”

“Then why do you question?” Warwick grinned, “I asked for you for you are the best of the best this side of the channel. We embark to England within the week. We shall meet those of my affinity once we land and then march upon London. I already hold near to six hundred. With your men, we should be better off and with your leadership. There will be more once we land. It is a feint...no less...to pull away the King’s forces from my father.”

Trollope showed a very serious eye, “You risk quite a lot, my Lord Earl.”

“And I have all the faith in you in the world,” Warwick showed grin, “As you say...these men are battle tested. If it comes to it...which I think it will not...they will be ready. Those of the Queen? I think not. And rest assured, sir...this is her army. Not that of the King. We go in...pull them away...and we get out. Is that not how freebooting is done?”

Sir Andrew gave a slight nod and then looked to the Earl, “You take great risk, my Lord. You are wanted in England. If they catch you...”

“They will not,” Warwick was assured, “I need a thousand men and those to lead them.”

“I may get you to those numbers...” Trollope began to suggest but the Earl pressed his shoulder.

“My father will be ruined if I am not there. She will see to it. You’ve a great many men that have seen active service. And you have led them. This is what I require,” Warwick pressed with great seriousness, “I cannot say that I serve the crown in this, sir. Nay. I serve my house. My father. And I ask that you come with me on this venture. I know that it is not as cut and dried like taking a ship. I have done that myself. Yet I may not live with myself if I do not come to his rescue. I was not raised to do so and I will not let him down.”

Trollope looked on with question still, “You are right, my Lord...it is not like taking a ship. There we may steal...barter...even let them go. And then get away ourselves. Your ask is...”

“Will be well paid for,” Warwick assured, “If you are reticent, then I will find another.”

“I did not say no,” Trollope held up his hands.

Warwick gave firm nod, “Good. Then have your men ready at half a fortnight for we sail to England, sir. Time is a precious commodity. I...we...have none to waste.”

As the knight retreated to talk to his man, Baron Fauconberg approached the Earl of Warwick, “Do you think he can be trusted?”

“I hold little choice,” Warwick looked to his men training in the yard, “I need warm bodies. And you? I need you here.”

“I would come with you!” William Neville strongly expressed.

Warwick looked to him with a firm eye, “No...you will not. I know that it is your brother, but it is my father. And we both require you here. For if we lose? This place of Calais will be our only hope.”

“You take great chance, nephew!” Fauconberg held to his arms.

The Earl of Warwick held him in, “I will see you in my return, uncle. And when I do…I promise to you that York will be King.”

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

What an interesting strategy...not sure York will say no if they win, but if they lose, he had nothing to do with it...but will be dragged down anyway.

Bascially, forcing the north and probably a lot of Wales to Sally forth and support Warwick, or they'll all hang separately regardless.

 

[El Pip]

I'll not go back through all the one I missed, but I do like how the more blatantly evil Margaret becomes the more she speaks French. That said while I have no hope for Henry surely those around him would notice such a clear and unarguable sign of devilry? Does she actually have to grow horns?

On the most recent, that scene was another reminder that this is young(ish) Warwick who is not quite yet the man he would become, for better and for worse. The high stakes gambling is there, but he is not quite as prepared and not quite as confident (eventually over-confident).

 

[HistoryDude]

Warwick is recruiting for a revolt. Honestly, York should side with him - it'll get Margaret off the throne. Of course, the best course for the Yorkists would be if Henry died immediately before the invasion because they can then point out that the new "king" is probably illegitimate.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

What an interesting strategy...not sure York will say no if they win, but if they lose, he had nothing to do with it...but will be dragged down anyway.

Bascially, forcing the north and probably a lot of Wales to Sally forth and support Warwick, or they'll all hang separately regardless.

I think Warwick is jumping the gun a little bit, but I wanted to go ahead and make it known already that this is his goal even if it isn't York's (yet.)

I'll not go back through all the one I missed, but I do like how the more blatantly evil Margaret becomes the more she speaks French. That said while I have no hope for Henry surely those around him would notice such a clear and unarguable sign of devilry? Does she actually have to grow horns?

Hah! As I've said, I hope my French is correct but indeed she does use it more and more when she is angry.

On the most recent, that scene was another reminder that this is young(ish) Warwick who is not quite yet the man he would become, for better and for worse. The high stakes gambling is there, but he is not quite as prepared and not quite as confident (eventually over-confident).

Yes, Warwick is still learning. The lessons learned, however...we'll have to see.

Warwick is recruiting for a revolt. Honestly, York should side with him - it'll get Margaret off the throne. Of course, the best course for the Yorkists would be if Henry died immediately before the invasion because they can then point out that the new "king" is probably illegitimate.

Isn't it interesting what they say they want and what they really want? He says to Trollope, this is just about rescuing Salisbury and York. To Warwick himself, it is about so much more.


To all - Look for the next scene to arrive tomorrow if and when I get home to my computer after the birthday party tonight. Christ! 50 years old! I don't mind saying there is a part of me that never thought I would see this day. Let's just say that your dear coz1 has done much partying over the years which may or may not have included illegal drugs. Today it's just the beer and the odd gummy every now and then (plus my smoking) but I feel as if I have defied the odds. Good thing too since this story wasn't going to write itself.

Thanks so much for reading and giving comment. That is always a gift!

 

[coz1]

Middleham, August 1459​

“I don’t think we have much choice,” the Earl of Salisbury looked to the note in his hand and then let it fall it away to the stone floor.

His sons stood close and John was the one that questioned, “What is it, father?”

Salisbury shifted to pour a strong drink. After taking it down, he turned and sighed, “Your brother is on his way.”

Thomas Neville smiled, “Then that is good news, is it not?”

“I know it not from his hand,” the Earl looked to his younger sons, “It is word from the Queen’s army to Cheshire. It speaks to me that she and hers are well aware of your brother’s crossing and she has sent men of the West Country to block his advance to Warwick Castle.”

“How could we know her mind on this, father?” Thomas questioned.

Salisbury allowed only a slight nod, “We have ways of hearing her whispers, my son. Leave it at that.”

“He means, Tom…” John looked to his brother, “...that we will not be making a rendezvous with Dickon nor the Duke of York at the now. It is too perilous.”

“Quite so,” the Earl agreed, “I fear that any attempt to grow and complete our combined force is at an end. We’ll not be making for Kenilworth now. That is a lost cause. Now...we must link arms with York or she will sink him.”

Thomas looked astonished, “Yet what of Dickon?! Is he to be left on his own to face whatever onslaught comes his way?!”

“Your brother is a resourceful lad,” Salisbury shifted to them both, “He will know what to do once we send him word. Yet the question remains...what shall we do? May we be as resourceful?”

John Neville tried to smile, “Sir William Stanley remains to here, father. He holds with him a force...a small force...yet a force still. That he made such a daring attempt through the Queen’s stronghold. May he be trusted?”

“Mayhap,” Salisbury considered it, “Tom...go and fetch the man. Let us see if he would have more advice. If he would make such an effort for our brother to York, then he may well be a man of trust.”

Thomas shot off to do as told and then the Earl looked to John, “No matter which way you strike it, son...we are barely four thousand. Some knights...some men-at-arms. Mostly spears and bills and what cannon we hold is heavy and cumbersome. Our longbowmen are crack, indeed...yet we are surely half of what the Queen holds to us.”

“What are you thinking of doing, father?” John questioned with great seriousness.

“I wish I could tell you that I hold a great plan...” Salisbury looked first to the fire and then back to his son, “...yet I simply do not.”

“My Lord of Salisbury,” Sir William Stanley entered the hall with a breathless Thomas following behind, “I come at your request and would lay down my sword to you, sir. Your son has already told me of these dire straights and I would lend a hand whatever is needed.”

The Earl looked to him with a pleasant enough face, “I do not think that he has told you all, sir. When you came to here, we were to try and head south. Meet with York to Warwick Castle. That is no longer an open road.”

“That much has already come to my hearing, my Lord,” Stanley gave nod, “Your son is thorough.”

Salisbury allowed a slim smile, “I’ve no doubt that he is. However...to my mind, there is but one chance. We must still link up with York. The court remains in some disarray with a few still to Leicester but the Queen and her recruitment moves back north. We will not make it to Warwick Castle, yet we may be able to skirt her force throughout Staffordshire and find Ludlow in due course.”

“Is this truly your thought, my Lord?” Sir William allowed an astonished eye.

The Earl merely looked to him with question, “You tell me, sir? You were the one to see her force in person. What does she hold?”

“I could not say with any great accuracy...” Sir William answered, “...yet...maybe six? Could be twelve thousand, my Lord. It is impossible to give true numbers. And what you ask...what you suggest my Lord...you are talking about taking whatever force you have and marching it straight through their camp.”

Salisbury gave a firm nod and moved back to the fire, “She does not yet know our full array either. She will be focused on my son of Warwick, to be certain. Especially if he makes his way to London as he should. The Queen will no doubt double her efforts there. That is our only hope.”

John spoke up, “It’s damned risky, father. Dickon has...not even a thousand at last word...”

“He will recruit as he goes,” Salisbury did not turn.

“And Johnny...he’s fast,” Thomas suggested.

Sir William ignored them and looked to the Earl’s back, “My Lord...I must tell you that the Queen holds to her quite good commanders. Most especially Lord Audley and his renown in Staffordshire, as well as his retainers, is as it should be for a man of his past and reputation. And while I may say that many of the Queen’s recruits may be inexperienced, his own forces will not be.”

“I would expect no less,” Salisbury remained eyeing the fire.

“Then might you explain how you may manage exporting your army from here to York’s army to Ludlow, my Lord?” Stanley asked with great question, “In the face of that which may well be a gale force wind bearing down upon you?”

Salisbury finally turned with a slight twinkle to his eye, “I know Lord Audley. Know him well. We served with one another so many moons ago. Older than I am, he is. And his man Dudley? My same age, sir. We have all been to the traces and back. I know Tuchet’s tendencies. He will want glory. And all we needs must do is pass him by.”

“I must agree with your son, my Lord,” Sir William replied, “Knowledge is always good. Yet it remains bloody risky.”

“What is there in life without risk, sir?” the Earl stepped to him, “Especially when we know what they do not?”

Sir William answered with firmness, “I cannot promise my brother’s fealty. He did raise his force as demanded and did show to the council at Leicester. And even if he was to hold back when the time came...I do not know that it would make a difference.”

“Allow me to worry about that,” Salisbury placed an arm to the knight’s shoulder, “Yet may I count upon you and yours?”

“I do not know that my numbers would matter,” Stanley answered, “Yet meager as they are, they are yours as I said. I hold no love for this Queen, my Lord. Make no mistake.”

The Earl of Salisbury allowed a thankful nod as he looked to them all, “Then I do not believe that we hold choice. It is through Staffordshire we go for we do not have time for any other. For the malice this Queen holds to us all, and her company that surrounds her that hates us with all of their blood...we must take to Ludlow Castle and without delay. We may all hang separately or we may all hang together, sirs. If it is to be done, I would prefer the latter.”

 

[Kurt_Steiner]

The reckoning is at hand...

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

“I don’t think we have much choice,”

Story of this AAR...

The reckoning is at hand...

The dickoning.

 

[HistoryDude]

The war begins at long last...

I predict that this will be a problem with Margaret and her generals - the Yorkists know her generals, and her own men are going to be very inexperienced - and prone to defection...

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

The reckoning is at hand...

As I've looked at it, St. Albans is the first but indeed, this comes second when we look at the actual battles of the "wars." There is reason I titled the chapter so because it would all lead up to what happens next.

Story of this AAR...



The dickoning.

To be sure, every choice made leads to what happens next. I've attempted to detail each one of them but it does take some time. If in fact that leads to the Dickoning...well, I've no problem with that.

The war begins at long last...

I predict that this will be a problem with Margaret and her generals - the Yorkists know her generals, and her own men are going to be very inexperienced - and prone to defection...

Keep your eye on that. Not a bad prediction at all.

As to the war "beginning", I prefer to think that this is just one more of the little tiny wars (and no doubt harsh ones) that take up this entire period. Yet indeed, this one is finally about York and the Queen. A lot more to come!!

 

[coz1]

Coleshill, September 1459​

“I say...who goes there?!” the old man said.

There was silence to the night and the old man’s son shouted, “Reveal yourself! You are on manor lands, whomever you are! Stand up and be counted or you shall perish. Be assured!”

“Simon!” the old man held a feeble hand to his shoulder, “Do not be so loud. You would raise the wolves!”

The son turned with irritation, “You said that the gamekeeper told of trouble to the field. Why you wish to join me to suss it out, I do not know. Are you so afeared of a rabbit?”

“Chance said that he heard rustling...” the old man peered into the night with bad eyes, “...an unnatural sound and...well, we...just look, you! Yet be calm about it!”

Simon Montfort sighed a heavy sigh and did as said, “I’m sure a cow just jumped the stream. They go a roaming, you know. They can’t get back over...stupid cows!”

“Shh!” the old man crouched, “What is that?!”

To the distance, a figure stood slowly and softly called out, “There is no harm meant, m’lord. I serve the Earl of Warwick. He’s not far away.”

“What?” Baldwin Montfort questioned, “Warwick, you say? Where is he?”

Simon sighed again, “Not far away, father. Did you not hear? Of course not.”

“Shut your mouth!” Baldwin held out an arm and gestured, “You there...come forth. We hold no ill will to the Earl. These are his lands. Yet what do you there in the darkness?”

“His lordship...” the man brushed away the branches of a bush and stood before them, “...is right careful, sir. He makes for his castle yet he fears the grounds.”

The old man stood straight and offered a grin, “I imagine he would. The Queen’s men are all over. I told you, Simon. This was no rabbit nor fox.”

“Yet mayhap a wolf,” the son replied without humor.

Baldwin beckoned the man closer, “Come, sir...where be the Earl?”

“A slight camp, m’lord,” the man answered, “We come from Londontown. Yet the Earl is not safe. I’m his sentry...come to guide the way.”

“No...” Baldwin replied with a grin, “...no, I imagine he is not. Go and fetch the Lord of Warwick, sir. And tell him he is safe. We all wear his badge round here. He should be right safe in my manor this night, sir. Go and tell him and we shall make your party find comfort.”

The sentry tipped his helm as he ran off, “Many blessings, sir! Many blessings!”

“You don’t think to hold them here, do you father?” Simon questioned, “The man is a pariah and the King hunts for him daily? I thought you fearful of trouble this night. If you invite him in, you’ll get it no doubt.”

The old man ignored him and trudged his way through the brush, “And you know not of what you speak. Now...help me back to the manor, boy!”

Baldwin was a proud man and could trace his family back for many years. Coming from an illegitimate line connected to the infamous Simon de Montfort, he wisely decided to drop the French naming. Especially as it assisted maintaining his right to the estates he held which were numerous. It had not come easy for his own father had remarried and the dispute with his half-brother Edmund had not been pretty. The Earls of Warwick had always been a benefactor, and this one especially had been instrumental in gaining what he considered owed.

As he stoked the fire within the hall, his son Simon still held question, “Father...this is not a good idea. Our family holds a stigma and our name may be ruined by this association.”

“Sir!” Baldwin turned to him with a forceful eye, “You will stifle your words! Lord Richard has always and ever been a loyal and goodly friend. We would not abandon him in his time of need. If you cannot hold your tongue then you should leave the hall and not embarrass us!”

Before the son could do as requested, the Earl of Warwick entered the hall flanked by his men. Richard Neville instantly eyed the old man and grinned, “Baldwin you old so and so! I fear that I did not even realize we had stumbled upon your lands. What great fortune!”

“My Lord...” Baldwin smiled and moved to clasp his arm, “...I wish you had sent notice! I would have a warm bed for you.”

Warwick smiled, “A warm fire is enough, old friend. As things are, I could not risk it. London was kind enough, but as we’ve moved north...it has become a trouble.”

“Too poor that, my Lord,” Baldwin snapped his aged fingers in quick time, “I shall fetch you drink.”

“Nay, sir...” the Earl held a hand to the man’s shoulder, “...we merely need a night’s rest. We shall be on to the morrow.”

Baldwin smiled, “At the least...allow me to make your men a proper night’s stay. There is plenty of room. To here and to the barn. You’ve held a harrowing adventure, I am sure. It shall only take a moment and it shall be done.”

Without waiting for answer, the old man was off and Warwick was left to look on the irritated visage of his son. The Earl crooked an eyebrow, “Do you see some thing that you do not wish?”

“I do, sir,” Simon replied, “Your presence here is a thing that we would not wish. Loathe that I am to disagree with my father, it is common knowledge that knives are out for you, my Lord. In this land or any other. My sire is diligent, sir. And I would obey. Surely you may understand?”

Warwick dropped all pretense, “If you were so loyal to your father, you might not ask me such things.”

“I do not ask...I tell,” the younger man answered.

“Then allow me to enlighten you with my answer,” Warwick took a step closer, “You’ve a right good manor here. Which your father favors. And which I allow. Do you see the men behind me?”

Simon Montfort looked over his shoulder and then back to the Earl, “I see them.”

“Do you see that they are tough?” Warwick asked with a more piercing eye.

Trollope and Blount looked on without saying a word leaving the young man to answer, “If they are so tough, then why do you hide...my Lord?”

Warwick allowed a slight laugh, “Hide. An interesting word. It could mean skulking in the dark. Or...it could mean a flesh. Which would you prefer?”

“I would prefer not to see my father caught up in all of this,” Simon answered, “Nor I, my Lord. I know not what you do...nor do I wish. Yet your place to here brings to us trouble.”

The Earl viewed him with a curiosity, “I think to see in you a man of conviction. Much like your father. A man of conscience...yet afraid all the same. Is this the life you wish to live?”

“I wish my father good fortune,” Simon answered, “As I would for myself. I would say the same for you, my Lord...yet I shall repeat...you bring us harm.”

Warwick eyed him more and finally replied, “Simon de Montfort. A curious guest in our history. I suppose you are the namesake? From my learning, he was a traitor. Went against the crown, sir. How dare he?! I would never think of doing such a thing.”

“You are a smart man, my Lord of Warwick,” Simon replied, “Yet we are not you. And I am not him. I only know what surrounds me and my father has made a nice life for us. And you as well. He would fight for you at every turn. He is also too old to do such. Would you have him fight for your cause? Would you have him lay down his life so that you might prevail?”

“I only ask for the bed,” Warwick grinned.

Young Simon pressed, “As I mention, it is a tall ask...my Lord. The Queen’s guard is everywhere and to my hearing, she cares not who may assist. You show up here...and our heads are to the block. That sir...that is my response.”

“My Lord of Warwick!” Baldwin entered the hall again, “I be too sorry that it has taken so long to place it. Yet beds will be plentiful and you and yours shall rest for the night. What else should you need? I should be happy to arrange it.”

“You have been more than helpful, sir,” Warwick answered the old man as he kept his eye to the son, “And you and yours will be roundly rewarded. I thank you. Especially this one.”

“Him?” Baldwin questioned, “He tasks at my every move. Fear not, my Lord. We shall keep you safe.”

Warwick gave nod and kept his gaze to Simon. As they departed the hall, the Earl looked back to Trollope, “Keep an eye on that one. He may be smarter than the father.”

Sir Andrew ignored it, “I do not care, my Lord. Where to now?”

“You’ve got some cheek,” the Earl turned to him with a grin, “We are to Ludlow. The Queen’s forces push to us, but we shall not be caught. Must not be, sir. I think to miss my castle and certainly my wife and daughters. Yet I’ll not be found unawares. She may think she holds the upper hand...but what a dainty hand.”

Trollope allowed a firm brow, “It is a long march, my Lord.”

“You worry too much,” Warwick smiled.

Sir Andrew answered, “We’ve not recruited as well.”

“Do you find trouble with your own men?” Warwick moved to warm himself beside the fire raging in the hearth, “I do not. There is a party out there that thinks of a win. There is another that enjoys victory. I know which I wish to attend.”

“It is no great feat, my Lord,” Sir Andrew looked to his benefactor.

The Earl of Warwick did not return the gaze, “We are almost to the top of the mountain, sir. And I will crest it before anyone else has chance. Mark my words.”

Trollope questioned again, “Then our orders?”

“Be ready at first light and make sure to thank our host,” Warwick turned to him with certainty, “No matter my father’s peril...we are not yet done.”

 

[polakma]

Simon be a little anxious there!

 

[Bullfilter]

Been away all week, caught up again.

50 years old!

Oh, to be so young again! Congrats on lasting that long.

 

[HistoryDude]

Well, it seems that not all of Warwick's supporters support him across generations...

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Simon be a little anxious there!

There are likely plenty of people out there skeptical of Warwick after his high profile feud with the Queen.

And I believe this is your first post in the thread so welcome! Thanks for joining in.

Been away all week, caught up again.


Oh, to be so young again! Congrats on lasting that long.

Let me tell you, it was a near run thing. I have not lived the "safest" of lives thus far.

Well, it seems that not all of Warwick's supporters support him across generations...

Simon is not quite as beholden to Warwick as the father is, very true. Warwick has loyal supporters and then those he pays off. The latter are more easily swayed.


To all - I'm not quite sure I conveyed it well enough in the above scene. The army the Queen sent after Warwick nearly intercepted him which would have obviously been catastrophic to both himself and the larger cause. As it was, he was able to avoid them and move towards Ludlow. Call it a little luck that he was able to escape.

And my week has shuffled around a little bit so I'm going to post the next scene in just a moment. Apologies to those that needed that third day to comment. It's built a little differently than my usual sections because so much is going on at once. I hope it works. Thanks all for reading and giving comment.

 

[coz1]

Eccleshall Castle, September 1459​

She looked out the window of the tower with hesitation in her breath. Her son Edward was just a few feet away playing with his toys but she could not concentrate over that. The King had come and gone already as was his want. Margaret was alone.

“My Lady Queen,” Lord Audley announced, “I come to give you word.”

Margaret jumped in her throat but showed a perfect regal figure as she turned, “Answer to me, sir! Where be Salisbury at the now?!”

“He moves on the market, my Lady,” Audley replied, “Too true to the center of town.”

“Your town!” Margaret pressed.

Lord Audley allowed his aged body to bow, “Tis not my town, Your Grace. Yet I do know it well.”

“Yet your people…” Margaret showed great interest, “...would not see it fall!”

“Madam...I would do what I am able...” he answered, “...yet it is not the town that may falter. It is the will of the man hoping to pass through. I know the Lord of Salisbury and he would not fight unless he was forced to do such. Would it not be better to simply allow his passage and find us in better position if that is your wish?”

Margaret shot him a harsh glare, “Sir...I have told you my wish! Bring me the man’s head! Dead or alive!”

“He is an honored Lord, Your Grace!” Audley suggested strongly.

She narrowed her brow, “And I know not your honor, sir! You would question your King?”

“I...” Lord Audley hesitated, “...I would do no such thing, Your Grace. I have spent my life in service of His Grace and that of his father.”

Margaret pressed, “Then you will do as said! You’ve the men. Yet do you have the will?!”

He bent with discomfort to give her a bow and then stood, “My Lady Queen...I would not fail His Grace.”

As he exited her chamber in the tower of Eccleshall Castle, he nearly bowled over Lord Stanley, “I beg pardon!”

“You look to be right off,” Thomas Stanley suggested.

Lord Audley looked to him with trepidation, “She is more than a force to be reckoned with, sir. I served under Henry named the fifth, and she...she?! God help us all!”

As the knight stormed away to command, Baron Thomas Stanley entered the chamber, “My Lady Queen...you requested?”

“Yes!” Margaret turned to him in a fury, “Have you raised your men? You were a bit slow to show at the council, sir. How may I say the import of this?! This is no time for question! My husband the King is at his wits end, and you...I know not the English word!!”

Thomas Stanley showed some cheek and asked, “Would that I could speak with His Grace the King?”

“You could not!” Margaret was quick to answer, “And how dare you for asking?! He worships and you do not, sir! His mind is at better places and so mine is at this...this now! So what have you done?!”

Lord Stanley bowed his head, “My Lady Queen, I have brought my force up and they are at the King’s leisure. I would be honored to lead the forward battle placement to protect His Grace. That is my only wish.”

Margaret turned away from him and flicked a hand, “Too small. Join yours to the Audley force. I can give you that.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you do not wish my force, my Lady?” Stanley took affront.

She turned to him with anger still, “I called them up, did I not?! They are needed and you are needed to serve your King!”

“Very well, Your Grace,” Lord Stanley replied, “I shall assemble them...for His Grace.”

As Lord Stanley turned on his heel to leave, another joined her. Lord Wiltshire offered a bow and then winced as he spoke, “Your Grace...it is said that Lord Salisbury approaches. His force is but a league from our own. A lessor number, my Lady...yet they look to dig in.”

* * *

Blore Heath, September 1459​

“Trenches! All along here!” the Earl of Salisbury shouted as he pointed and looked to the distance, “Market Drayton is but a piece and there is a great gully between us! Dig, lads! Dig!!”

“Father...” John Neville stood next to him and placed a hand to his shoulder, “...we are woefully outnumbered. You can see it. Dickon will not be to our rescue and we may not survive this onslaught!”

The elder Richard Neville looked out over the landscape and grinned, “Ye of little faith. There be no doubt that we are blocked, yet they do not advance. Do you see?”

“I see a great army before us, father,” John answered, “They would take us ten to one!”

Salisbury held an arm to his son’s shoulder, “Look again, child. What do you see? I ask again.”

“I see...” John tried to find the answer, “...a great big and large army, father!”

“You do not see,” Salisbury pointed, “Look you there. What is that?”

John Neville answered without comprehension, “A ditch.”

“Exactly,” Salisbury smiled, “Yet more than a ditch, my son. A veritable chasm. Audley thinks that he is in great place. And I suppose he is with his numbers. Yet let him try to cross that!”

“It is no thing but a brook, father!” John protested, “They may lose in the crossing, but so will we!”

The Earl held more strongly to his son’s back, “Go and tell Tom to fortify in the forest. Stanley as well. It’s a wet ground and we may make use of it.”

“Father!” John shouted, “We are nearly lost here!”

Salisbury pulled him close in a tight hug, “Do not tell me that! Set your brother to digging ditches. You as well! Every part counts!”

“Why do you have such faith?” John questioned with great worry.

The Earl looked out again and answered, “Do what I say, boy. They have much cavalry so place some stakes to the ground. If they get over, they’ll be met by a rude welcome.”

* * *

Blore Heath, September 1459​

“It’s a great muddy field, sir,” Sutton looked over Tuchet’s shoulder, “We’d do well to make the bank.”

Lord Audley looked on, “Were we too young for Agincourt, my friend? Did we learn nothing?”

“It was easier when we were to higher ground,” John Sutton Lord Dudley replied.

Audley answered, “And that, my friend, we are not now.”

“We hold placement,” Dudley suggested.

Tuchet pointed, “My eyes are old, yet tell to me that they do not pull in their carts and wagons with provisions.”

“They do, sir...” Dudley replied, “...an age old tactic. Protection against our archers. Yet...the bank, my friend.”

“Indeed,” Audley sighed, “Their protection is as great as ours...yet I cannot.”

Lord Dudley turned his old friend to him, “Cannot what?!”

“I cannot fail,” Audley said, “Old Talbot would see this as no thing but a stream. A mere suggestion of an impasse.”

Dudley pressed, “And is gone from us.”

The knight looked to his old friend, “He may be gone but we are here. It is our duty, John. That there is an army against us. What would you do?”

“They have asked for a parlay,” Dudley answered, “To permit passage.”

Lord Audley looked out again, “Of course they have. That is proper. I would expect no less and the Lord of Salisbury is an honorable man.”

“And yet...you would not allow it,” Lord Dudley showed an assured nod.

Audley returned it, “How may I do such? It is catch as catch can and we are much the hatchery as any other. Find me a fish that lives with a hook to their mouth. I’ve my orders.”

Lord Dudley held a hand to his friend’s back, “You could listen to him.”

“There be no need,” Audley replied with a stern gaze as he surveyed the brook, “It is already over. Call forth the archers.”

“I will do,” Dudley answered but was stopped.

“John!” Audley called after, “When this is over...we’ll have a drink. Talk about old times.”

John Sutton gave nod, “I’d like that, sir. We will catch as catch can and then have our fill.”

Lord Audley tried to smile as he looked back to the brook, “Call up the archers!”

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

You know, it's stuff like this that makes the Ned way of doing things so attractive. They don't jave to worry about unruly vassals because they're all ned family members, and whenever one of those steps out of line, they just kill them.

Except for the Duke of Blairington, who is expected to do a stupid rebellion every so often.