Is Warwick's army about to attempt an ambush? The fact that he isn't here is weird.
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Northampton, July 1460
By the tenth of July, Warwick’s army finally arrived to the field across from the Duke of Buckingham. He had hoped the rain might finally stop so lagged behind but as it continued, he at length ordered all to attend and spread out. To the rear was Lord Fauconberg with his brother Lord Bergavenny and the Viscount Bourchier. Lords Clinton and Say were sent to the right with a healthy contingent of archers. As the rest of the Lords crested the hill, the Earl spied ahead.
“Is that four...five thousand?” Warwick questioned as he tried to look through the rain.
“Lord Scrope estimated mayhap six,” Edward agreed, “That sounds accurate. As well, they fly the King’s standard.”
“We expected as much,” the elder Earl was not dissuaded and turned to call forth his brother George Neville.
The Bishop was quick to attend, “I think to drown, brother.”
“Not yet, sir,” Warwick demanded, “Send the Bishop of Salisbury and the papal legate to the King under the promise of parlay. Have them say their words and let us get this charade over with.”
Behind Bishop Neville, the Archbishop climbed the small hill, “I shall go as well, my Lord. His Grace would wish a blessing.”
“Bless all you like, but he shall not yield,” Warwick was certain.
Edward was more politic, “I think a fine idea, Your Eminence. Every word would matter and if only His Grace would finally listen. All of this may be avoided.”
Warwick remained silent while the Archbishop gave nod and swiftly moved to gather the prelates. Flying through the driving rain, the three men rode hard towards Buckingham’s camp and were greeted rudely until the Duke himself spied them.
“Allow them in!” the Duke called out and met with the Archbishop.
Bourchier tried to smile, “We have been here before, have we not?”
“We were usually to the same side,” Buckingham showed no humor.
“We are always to the side of His Grace the King,” the Archbishop gestured to his fellow prelates.
Buckingham ignored them, “His Grace is to the Abbey. Yet I must warn you...his mood is low.”
“I should think so,” Archbishop Bourchier called the Bishops to him and made for the King.
As they entered the Abbey, King Henry knelt at the altar in prayer. All three men crossed themselves and waited for him to rise. When he stood and turned, the King was stone faced and silent. The Archbishop and Bishop Beauchamp waited for him to speak, but Bishop Coppini stepped forward and offered a flourished bow, “Most gracious and honorable King...it is so much honored to finally stand before your presence. His Holiness Pope Clement wishes in all ways peace to your land and the peace of Almighty God.”
Henry remained tight lipped but suggested through gritted teeth, “The customs to Rome must be very different.”
The Bishop was shocked, “Does His Grace not desire the wishes of the Holy Father?”
Without moving his head, the King merely turned his eyes to the Archbishop and Bourchier leaned forward in a whisper, “One is not yet to the King’s presence until he has spoken to you.”
“He speaks to me now!” Coppini whispered back in confusion.
Buckingham was tired of this and stepped forward, “He will address you, sir!”
“Indeed we shall,” King Henry finally stood taller, “And we know not why such men as these stand before us at this moment.”
The Bishop of Salisbury handed Buckingham a rolled up document, “These are, Your Grace, the words of the Earl of Warwick and with him, his father the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of March, son to Duke Richard of York your cousin. Due to all circumstances, Your Grace, these Lords wish no thing but to stand by your side at this perilous moment. A moment when so many of those to Council have lost all privileges to Holy Church as witnessed here by the honorable Bishop Coppini of Terni as representative of Pope Clement VII. You have by now surely witnessed the Papal Bull. We that come to you do so with all honor and reverence for there are none of us that wish your peril in any way. Great Lords...both temporal and spiritual...ride to you now to rescue you from eternal damnation and deliver the salvation of Christ.”
“Why has the Holy Father not written to us before, we wonder?” Henry looked to the Bishop Coppini, “Such that he may know our true circumstance.”
Coppini was relieved to finally speak freely, “The Holy Father has always believed that you are the most pious of all sovereigns and did not feel such need, Your Grace. It was not before these Lords brought it to his attention that you may be in such trouble. It would be good for all men to be made happy and peaceful. That is his wish as it is the wish of Almighty God.”
King Henry turned to the Archbishop of Canterbury, “There are many here that know well that we have always prayed for peace. Some have intimate knowledge. Yet it is uncommon for such men of Christ to not stand by our side in all things. If we are so pious...then we should hold God’s protection and favor.”
“It has become untenable, Your Grace” Archbishop Bourchier stepped forward to make his case, “I know well your peaceful intentions and I do hope that you recall mine own. Yet the case has been made, and too strongly at this date. While I respect the Lord of Buckingham that rightly stands next to you and commend him, I cannot say so of these other Lords that surround your person. It is so pernicious that it falls to the ear of the Holy Father himself. Our land must not find itself under interdict, Your Grace. Your people depend upon you and your wisdom. And indeed, your piety. You must not take away their God.”
Before King Henry could reply, the Duke of Buckingham stood in front of him to look at these Bishops with great anger, “You...the very lot of you! You are contemptible! Vile and hypocritical creatures that would stand before this man...this King...our King...and speak such lies and calumny! At no time in his past has His Grace ever...EVER...declined the words of his great magnates. As one, I may assure you. And the thanks that he gains is one rising after another! For these last ten years, all that has met him is grief and rebellion. Yes! Rebellion!! A man may ask...yet a man would not demand His Grace King Henry of England of one damned thing!!”
Henry showed them a slight smile and Bishop Beauchamp replied, “It is no demand, Your Grace. It is a plea. Please do hear us. For if it has ever been risky before, there is no risk like the now. Your Lord of Warwick...”
“My Lord?” Henry questioned greatly, “Our Lord? It would seem not. We understand a great army over the horizon. We tire of meeting such.”
Coppini suggested, “Your people, great King! These are your liege Lords and wish your love as all men wish the love of God and Christ.”
“We will not read those words,” Henry thrust his hand to the still rolled up document of demands, “We have heard them already and have done all that is able to right any wrong. Those left unsatisfied do not wish the King’s peace nor that of the Almighty.”
Buckingham snorted, “Hear, hear, Your Grace! There be no need to pander to traitors!”
“My Lord...you have always fought for peace,” Archbishop Bourchier tried once again to find a connection with him.
The Duke would not hear it and pointed to the King, “He has wished it and it has not been found. I will protect my King no matter the consequence. You should go back and tell your men. Ask them if they would do the same!”
Bourchier was saddened and offered, “I would bless you still, Your Grace. For your safety.”
“There be no need,” Henry quickly turned and walked away.
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Northampton, July 1460
By the tenth of July, Warwick’s army finally arrived to the field across from the Duke of Buckingham. He had hoped the rain might finally stop so lagged behind but as it continued, he at length ordered all to attend and spread out. To the rear was Lord Fauconberg with his brother Lord Bergavenny and the Viscount Bourchier. Lords Clinton and Say were sent to the right with a healthy contingent of archers. As the rest of the Lords crested the hill, the Earl spied ahead.
“Is that four...five thousand?” Warwick questioned as he tried to look through the rain.
“Lord Scrope estimated mayhap six,” Edward agreed, “That sounds accurate. As well, they fly the King’s standard.”
“We expected as much,” the elder Earl was not dissuaded and turned to call forth his brother George Neville.
The Bishop was quick to attend, “I think to drown, brother.”
“Not yet, sir,” Warwick demanded, “Send the Bishop of Salisbury and the papal legate to the King under the promise of parlay. Have them say their words and let us get this charade over with.”
Behind Bishop Neville, the Archbishop climbed the small hill, “I shall go as well, my Lord. His Grace would wish a blessing.”
“Bless all you like, but he shall not yield,” Warwick was certain.
Edward was more politic, “I think a fine idea, Your Eminence. Every word would matter and if only His Grace would finally listen. All of this may be avoided.”
Warwick remained silent while the Archbishop gave nod and swiftly moved to gather the prelates. Flying through the driving rain, the three men rode hard towards Buckingham’s camp and were greeted rudely until the Duke himself spied them.
“Allow them in!” the Duke called out and met with the Archbishop.
Bourchier tried to smile, “We have been here before, have we not?”
“We were usually to the same side,” Buckingham showed no humor.
“We are always to the side of His Grace the King,” the Archbishop gestured to his fellow prelates.
Buckingham ignored them, “His Grace is to the Abbey. Yet I must warn you...his mood is low.”
“I should think so,” Archbishop Bourchier called the Bishops to him and made for the King.
As they entered the Abbey, King Henry knelt at the altar in prayer. All three men crossed themselves and waited for him to rise. When he stood and turned, the King was stone faced and silent. The Archbishop and Bishop Beauchamp waited for him to speak, but Bishop Coppini stepped forward and offered a flourished bow, “Most gracious and honorable King...it is so much honored to finally stand before your presence. His Holiness Pope Clement wishes in all ways peace to your land and the peace of Almighty God.”
Henry remained tight lipped but suggested through gritted teeth, “The customs to Rome must be very different.”
The Bishop was shocked, “Does His Grace not desire the wishes of the Holy Father?”
Without moving his head, the King merely turned his eyes to the Archbishop and Bourchier leaned forward in a whisper, “One is not yet to the King’s presence until he has spoken to you.”
“He speaks to me now!” Coppini whispered back in confusion.
Buckingham was tired of this and stepped forward, “He will address you, sir!”
“Indeed we shall,” King Henry finally stood taller, “And we know not why such men as these stand before us at this moment.”
The Bishop of Salisbury handed Buckingham a rolled up document, “These are, Your Grace, the words of the Earl of Warwick and with him, his father the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of March, son to Duke Richard of York your cousin. Due to all circumstances, Your Grace, these Lords wish no thing but to stand by your side at this perilous moment. A moment when so many of those to Council have lost all privileges to Holy Church as witnessed here by the honorable Bishop Coppini of Terni as representative of Pope Clement VII. You have by now surely witnessed the Papal Bull. We that come to you do so with all honor and reverence for there are none of us that wish your peril in any way. Great Lords...both temporal and spiritual...ride to you now to rescue you from eternal damnation and deliver the salvation of Christ.”
“Why has the Holy Father not written to us before, we wonder?” Henry looked to the Bishop Coppini, “Such that he may know our true circumstance.”
Coppini was relieved to finally speak freely, “The Holy Father has always believed that you are the most pious of all sovereigns and did not feel such need, Your Grace. It was not before these Lords brought it to his attention that you may be in such trouble. It would be good for all men to be made happy and peaceful. That is his wish as it is the wish of Almighty God.”
King Henry turned to the Archbishop of Canterbury, “There are many here that know well that we have always prayed for peace. Some have intimate knowledge. Yet it is uncommon for such men of Christ to not stand by our side in all things. If we are so pious...then we should hold God’s protection and favor.”
“It has become untenable, Your Grace” Archbishop Bourchier stepped forward to make his case, “I know well your peaceful intentions and I do hope that you recall mine own. Yet the case has been made, and too strongly at this date. While I respect the Lord of Buckingham that rightly stands next to you and commend him, I cannot say so of these other Lords that surround your person. It is so pernicious that it falls to the ear of the Holy Father himself. Our land must not find itself under interdict, Your Grace. Your people depend upon you and your wisdom. And indeed, your piety. You must not take away their God.”
Before King Henry could reply, the Duke of Buckingham stood in front of him to look at these Bishops with great anger, “You...the very lot of you! You are contemptible! Vile and hypocritical creatures that would stand before this man...this King...our King...and speak such lies and calumny! At no time in his past has His Grace ever...EVER...declined the words of his great magnates. As one, I may assure you. And the thanks that he gains is one rising after another! For these last ten years, all that has met him is grief and rebellion. Yes! Rebellion!! A man may ask...yet a man would not demand His Grace King Henry of England of one damned thing!!”
Henry showed them a slight smile and Bishop Beauchamp replied, “It is no demand, Your Grace. It is a plea. Please do hear us. For if it has ever been risky before, there is no risk like the now. Your Lord of Warwick...”
“My Lord?” Henry questioned greatly, “Our Lord? It would seem not. We understand a great army over the horizon. We tire of meeting such.”
Coppini suggested, “Your people, great King! These are your liege Lords and wish your love as all men wish the love of God and Christ.”
“We will not read those words,” Henry thrust his hand to the still rolled up document of demands, “We have heard them already and have done all that is able to right any wrong. Those left unsatisfied do not wish the King’s peace nor that of the Almighty.”
Buckingham snorted, “Hear, hear, Your Grace! There be no need to pander to traitors!”
“My Lord...you have always fought for peace,” Archbishop Bourchier tried once again to find a connection with him.
The Duke would not hear it and pointed to the King, “He has wished it and it has not been found. I will protect my King no matter the consequence. You should go back and tell your men. Ask them if they would do the same!”
Bourchier was saddened and offered, “I would bless you still, Your Grace. For your safety.”
“There be no need,” Henry quickly turned and walked away.
How do we put this diplomatically, your grace?
You pray and pray, and do bugger all. You are maliciously incompetent and negligent you have given absolute power to a deeply unpopular and unworthy queen who has attempted to sleep within enemy Kings, slept with father and son dukes, given birth to a bastard, and committed several dozen treasonous acts, compelled others to treason, and compelled half the realm to commit treason to try and get rid of her.
For 10 years you have known what the problem was. Yes you were ill but you were not capable before your incapability. You are dragging the entire country down in your melancholic self pity. Get thee to a monastery and the queen to a nunnery, and let someone capable and confident of ruling do your job for you.
Or have the good grace to die, so we can at least murder the baby and mother. Sure it'll cause bad blood for a generation but it's a damn sight better than this!
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Whelp. That's it. That's the final hope of peace destroyed. Let us end this charade and remove the influence of the godless Queen Margaret from the throne!
Also, Buckingham, King Henry has listened to the council of his lords... and the lords he listened to thought only of their own power.
Also, interdict? That could be an excellent way to cause an uprising against Queen Margaret!
Why was Henry so rude to the Bishop?
Hear, hear!
Also, Buckingham, King Henry has listened to the council of his lords... and the lords he listened to thought only of their own power.
Also, interdict? That could be an excellent way to cause an uprising against Queen Margaret!
Why was Henry so rude to the Bishop?
Hear, hear!
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Fb-fb:
We shall call this TBC's manifesto and it shall be spread throughout England. York thanks you, sir.
Indeed when Buckingham and the King are done with talks, it seems a lost cause. Why was Henry so rude? Likely because he feels insufficiently appreciated for his piety and cannot understand how anyone could possibly question it. Especially the Archbishop and the Pope.
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Northampton, July 1460
The Earls waited for the riders to return and when they did, George Neville was the first to meet them. The Bishop of Exeter took in the news and went straight to his brother, “It is as you imagined.”
“Of course,” Warwick looked again to the field before them, “And now we see.”
Edward looked as well, “It is damned soggy, cousin.”
“Why not? Thousands of tracks made to the mud,” the elder Earl smiled, “And you, sir. You may get muddier still.”
“What have you dreamed up?” Edward skewed a brow.
The Earl of Warwick held with strength to his cousin’s shoulder, “You’ve seen some tests to Calais, Ned. Yet I think it time to break your cherry in full. Do you see that river?”
“I do,” Edward remained skeptical.
“Good,” Warwick replied, “For across that river is Northampton where many of these dogs will try to find as succor. It is flooded and so they will try to flank us as they retreat. Do not allow it.”
Edward looked again, “It’s a bloody marsh!”
“Indeed,” Warwick grinned, “Let us hope it so.”
Lord Fauconberg approached, “Nephew...the Bishops have taken to a safe distance and Buckingham lines up.”
“Yes...” Warwick turned to spy the formation, “...yes indeed. I see you there my Lord of Buckingham.”
Edward tried to look as well, “I know not how you spy anything in this rain.”
“He is there, sir,” the elder Earl was certain, “And so is the King.”
“He is not as at Ludford Bridge,” Edward suggested.
Warwick smiled again, “No. He is not. Though fly still does the standard. I think we should take lesson in that. As you go, Ned...take with you too your father’s standard. Though he be not here, it is for him.”
“Should it not be for us?” Edward questioned.
Warwick held tighter, “It is for us!”
With a grimace, Edward gave nod, “Then God speed you, cousin.”
“And you as well,” the Earl of Warwick turned with a shout to all in hearing, “Sound the trumpets! Archers at the ready!! Prepare for advance!!!”
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As for that spineless weasel...the best he can do is take as much of the heat onto himself as possible, become king, secure the succession and then die, burying most of the issues of the last 20 years with him. Maybe make his last act offing Henry, the Queen and baby is a suitably mysterious fashion.
Edmund and Edward both seem much better candidates for the throne than either of the two current claimants. In fact, they're both also subordinate to baby Henry Tudor because of proven OTL track record, so the actual king and his rival are 4 and 5 in preference.
Mind you, they do both score above the bustard baby and the queen in dead last...so thats something.
Everyone! Abandon your defensive positions and march through the mud towards the dug in enemy forces who also have longbowmen!
Except for you lot. You guys are fording a river in armour instead.
NOTHING WILL GO WRONG!
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Can Fancy hurry up and hang all of the incestuous Plantagenet gene pool? Fancy and her son will get tangled in the rope in an accident.
The battle begins! At long last!
Will Warwick attempt to capture the king alive if it's possible?
Will Warwick attempt to capture the king alive if it's possible?
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Destroying France must be written in the Ten Commandments.
"Thou shall not kill... unless it's a French speaking person".
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Well, a classic returns. Buckingham and floods...
Maggie reminds me more and more of Cersei Lannister. How ironic...
Maggie reminds me more and more of Cersei Lannister. How ironic...
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Fb-fb:
It is unfair to use OTL to rank contenders for this is not that. So are you really willing to place the crown on the head of a 3 year old boy?
Of course.
Leaving no one else to rule.
Coming soon...
No comment.
Cersei is likely modeled on Maggie since those books were entirely inspired by this period.
Northampton, July 1460
Baron John Scrope of Bolton was only a few years older than Edward of York and with that affinity, they grew quickly to enjoy one another. So too with William Fiennes, Lord Say. With other Lords being considerably older, or in Warwick’s case a force unto himself, it was a comfort to find kinship as he had held before with his brother Edmund or with Harry Beaufort. In other days, the three of them might have shut down the local pub. Yet this day, Edward and John Scrope were sent to shut down something else entirely.
Though the rain continued to beat down, the heat remained in the air and created a great humidity. In their full armor and with difficult sight, their bodies were quickly overcome with exhaustion as they slogged on through the thick, viscous mud of the Nene marshes made worse by the rising river. It was not but twenty minutes after Warwick had sounded the alarm that Edward began his advance with a smattering of knights, men at arms and archers all on foot. By now, they were practically waist deep in the muck and it was at this moment that those to the King’s entrenchment let lose their arrows.
It was a deadly series of volleys and as men to both left and right fell, Edward shouted to them all, “Advance! Ever forward!!”
“To York! To York!” Lord Scrope shouted next to him.
The Earl could see his friend only slightly through his visor’s narrow slit but held his sword aloft and pressed the standard bearer to hold the flag of York higher. Each step seemed to take all of his strength, but as this was truly his first major military action, the adrenaline seemed to take over and he felt none of the pain.
“My Lord!” Scrope hollered, “Look ye to Warwick! He has begun his move!”
Edward allowed only a moment to see it so and then took another hard step, “To the King, John!!”
Another volley of arrows rained down upon them with deadly force but it did not cause the soldiers to yield. The majority of Warwick’s force was largely made up of men from Kent, Sussex and Essex and were hardened and tough minded. They had fought their series of battles over the years in various revolts with some even remembering time under Old Talbot in France. They would eagerly follow a spirited leader. This Edward was.
“See there, men!!” Edward shouted, “Their cavalry is forced to foot!!”
Scrope allowed a laugh, “This mud is as good for them as it is us!!”
“Aye, John!” Edward pushed through the murky water now to his chest, “And I think it drowns them as much as us!!”
The Lords could both see in the distance that Buckingham was not utilizing his cannon. They might have been decisive if they were not lying deep in the water and rendered useless. Edward and Scrope did not know this but could see that the rain was causing the arrows of the longbowmen to change course drastically.
After another step, Edward started to feel the land rise beneath his feet, “Nearly there, lads! If you don’t want another arrow to the heart, then let us overwhelm them!! Yet remember! Go for the nobles!!”
“A York! A York!!” his soldiers shouted behind him and followed every step.
“To the barricades, lads!!” Edward shouted again as he found firm footing and pulled himself from the mud.
Lord Scrope followed with his sword held before him, “Here they come!! Hold strong!!!”
The royal archers parted as men at arms filled their breach and rushed head long into Edward’s vanguard. The Yorkist soldiers quickly moved to back the young Earl and for the first time ever, Edward of York struck his blade against another in true battle. Time seemed to stop as Edward parried one mace and then a spear. Lord Scrope stood tall next to him and took out both as they were pushed aside. In the mud, knights in armor could not maneuver well but this did not stop the Yorkist men at arms and they swarmed the royal barricades.
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The Yorkists look to be doing well here. Why are they attacking the nobles, though? To take prisoner? To kill?
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Probably to capture and random. It's how warfare worked in the 15th century.
In this case, they also need as many nobles on their side or in their dungeons as possible, including the king.
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Fb-fb:
Indeed, to kill and remove anyone that might stand between themselves and the King.
Capture and ransom was indeed a part of warfare at this time, however we are rather beyond that in this situation.
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Northampton, July 1460
The alarms began in the afternoon. Viscount Beaumont heard it immediately and rushed from his tent. With quickness, he called for his men and they helped him with his armor. God...it took forever to his mind!
As each plate was sewn into his mail, he grew more and more impatient. He eventually snatched his helm from a servant and pressed it down himself. Though secure in body, the rain made his vision even less than it already was. Trudging forth through the mud, he spied Lord Egremont, “Where do they come?!”
Egremont ran to him, “Warwick sends his over the ridge, yet another comes from the marsh!!”
“Then to arms, sir!” Beaumont shouted, “Have the men at the ready!”
“Yet, the King!” Egremont answered with strength, “He must be protected!”
Beaumont did not waste a moment and ran to the barricades shouting behind, “Sod the King! Protect us all!!”
The northern Lord ignored him and rushed to the King’s tent as Beaumont pushed for the front. He could see that the Earl of Warwick’s men were rushing towards Buckingham’s position and he was confused. Grabbing the first person he spied, he asked with incredulity, “Where be the guns??!”
The soldier answered with fear, “Drowned, m’Lord! Useless!!”
As he ran off, Viscount Beaumont seemed frozen. Should he go to the Duke’s rescue or attend to those marching from the marsh? Lord Grey of Ruthin was defending to the vanguard and mayhap his combined might could turn the tide. He finally called for his men and they rushed to Ruthin’s side. Yet when he arrived to the stockades, he found Grey’s men standing back and allowing the enemy to breach. In fact, they started to fight their own and Beaumont’s men trying to defend.
In the chaos and confusion, the Viscount backed away and found himself near the tree line. Many of his men were running towards the swollen river to escape as were those of Buckingham’s force and he could see in the distance that the entire front was broken. Before he could take decisive action, a soldier rushed to his side, “M’Lord...it is lost!”
Beaumont turned to look at him with wide eyes that grew even larger when he saw the blade. He did not have a chance to respond before it was buried deep into the pit of his arm where the armor plates met. Falling to the ground slowly, he was able to see and hear the man standing over him in the rain. A blurry figure with a smile, “A gift for his most beloved step-father, sir...from the Lord of Norfolk.”
As blood rushed through the chain mail and armor covering it in a dark shade of red, Viscount Beaumont saw and heard no more. He was the first noble to die in the battle. He would not be the last.
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On the catch up trail. Couldn’t resist this one though from a month ago:
An exorcism of Margaret - a succubus in the King’s presence - is just what is required!
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