I'll not deny it, but mostly from those that would recognize ye olde song.
No one ever said that...well, except maybe Richard.
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This sort of thing is why Henry is a mere figurehead. If he wants actual power, he needs to have priority!
Who will be the first claimant to officially reject Henry's rule? Or will neither, leaving us with a war of succession with a monarch acknowledged by both sides?
Who will be the first claimant to officially reject Henry's rule? Or will neither, leaving us with a war of succession with a monarch acknowledged by both sides?
This is a marked decline in Henry, previously he was just an idiot who liked to run off to prayer to avoid having to make decisions. This is him actually becoming detached from reality, if it continues there won't even be the occasional flashes of spin or competence and he will truly become a complete puppet.
This is a common problem, people unable to grasp the idea that 'least bad' doesn't mean good. It's not that York would be a great king as he has his own laundry list of faults, it's just that he would be exponentially better than Margaret ruling through puppet Henry. I accept this is weak praise as almost anyone would do better than Margaret, but it remains true.No one ever said that...well, except maybe Richard.
@coz1 I'm solidly and irrevocably 2/3 of the way through and closing on you with speed!And this is quite correct. These are things up with which he will no longer put. I titled an earlier chapter The Time For Choosing and it may have taken us awhile, but York has now made a choice. Question is...has he made THE choice?
York is in Ireland, they've declared for him, and the war is inevitable. Just waiting for it to kick off with earnest.
And I love that you're familiar (apparently) with my favorite Winston Churchill quote.
Rensslaer
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As to Churchill, I'm sure I've mentioned it to you before but I am distantly related to him through his American mother.
To all - So as alluded to by @filcat above, this previous scene was both purposeful and also a lark. At some point, one gets tired of writing battle scenes. Or at the least, wants to find a creative way to do it. In that the goal was to see Henry captured again, this time by his wife and hers, I thought - "How perfect...I'll focus on him." I suppose it might get overlooked that the 2nd Battle of St. Albans was a reverse of the first. And Warwick lost. That might become a theme.
Yet when thinking of Henry, I wanted to find a way to show his slipping grasp of reality (as suggested above by @El Pip) and then...then...thought back to fond days of playing the OG - Europa Universalis and its maddening soundtrack. Over and over again for 400 years! Lalalalalalala...N. So the reference is both a meta wink at our games but also (to me) a good metaphor to Henry's potential madness (or at least fleeting senility.) Long story short, I had a bit of fun writing that.
However, back to reality. See the next scene...
Oh, Henry has priority. He must remember that song!
At this stage, I write Henry as if he is slipping in and out of reality. The above scene was certainly "an episode."
Quite true. Margaret and/or Henry provide a rather low bar.
Great to hear! You've got some exciting things ahead.
As to Churchill, I'm sure I've mentioned it to you before but I am distantly related to him through his American mother.
To all - So as alluded to by @filcat above, this previous scene was both purposeful and also a lark. At some point, one gets tired of writing battle scenes. Or at the least, wants to find a creative way to do it. In that the goal was to see Henry captured again, this time by his wife and hers, I thought - "How perfect...I'll focus on him." I suppose it might get overlooked that the 2nd Battle of St. Albans was a reverse of the first. And Warwick lost. That might become a theme.
Yet when thinking of Henry, I wanted to find a way to show his slipping grasp of reality (as suggested above by @El Pip) and then...then...thought back to fond days of playing the OG - Europa Universalis and its maddening soundtrack. Over and over again for 400 years! Lalalalalalala...N.
So the reference is both a meta wink at our games but also (to me) a good metaphor to Henry's potential madness (or at least fleeting senility.) Long story short, I had a bit of fun writing that.However, back to reality. See the next scene...
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Baynard’s Castle, March 1461
“What were you thinking?!” Edward shouted.
The Earl of Warwick stood tall, “Care for your tone, cousin! We were given up, I fear. My man Lovelace was captured and I am certain provided our position to the Queen.”
The Duke of Norfolk stood by the fire nursing his injuries and an ale, “Or it was mismanaged.”
“It does us no good to fight it all over again,” Duchess Cecily suggested as she held to her son’s arm, “We are to the hardest place. She will swarm upon London and take us all.”
“I think not, my Lady,” John Howard, a retainer of the Duke of Norfolk spoke up, “It is said that the Queen rides north once again. It cannot be explained.”
Cecily smiled and held tighter to Edward, “She fears you, my son. By now she has heard of your victory and wishes no part of you.”
“It is but one victory,” Edward pulled away from her and shifted to pour his own drink, “Would that we had more.”
Warwick stepped to him, “It is only a trifle, Ned. There are losses in battle. Tis not the entire thing.”
“Yet it is a costly thing,” Edward turned to him, “It has cost us both our families. Another of yours is held captive at the now. Do you not fear for his life?”
The elder Earl grew stiff, “I was not the one to execute Owen Tudor, sir! You followed on with this one of theirs for every one of ours...”
“Two of theirs!” Cecily nearly spat.
Edward stood tall, “Which is why I should be worried about your brother John.”
“I think not that Somerset would harm him,” Warwick replied, “I hold his brother Thomas to the Tower. More to that, we retain Lord Rivers. Though he may not find any happiness to know that his daughter’s husband perished in the battle.”
“Which daughter?” the young Earl questioned.
Norfolk spoke from the fire, “It was John Grey of Groby that died. He had married River’s eldest Elizabeth. Two sons they hold. Two fatherless sons now.”
“Is it possible that we might arrange a swap of prisoners?” John Howard asked.
Warwick shot him down, “You speak above your place, sir. Even if Somerset was willing, her pride would not allow it. She has back the King in her possession and that is all that matters.”
“Or does she?” Norfolk looked from Howard to Edward, “For I think to spy one here.”
Cecily spoke proudly, “You would take a care, my Lord. This one is not yet twenty and still naught but an Earl. His father is rightful King.”
“My Lady...” Norfolk offered a bow of the head, “...it has been months without word from the Duke of York. I may not explain it other than to say that he is...”
“Do not say it!!” the Duchess stepped to him, “I shall not countenance any such idea!”
The Earl of Warwick watched Edward the entire time and was impressed. He did not seem to ask for it nor deny it. Whether York be dead or not, this Edward of York was the perfect model of a King. The very thing they had all desired these many years. He smiled as he draped an arm around his cousin, “I think Norfolk not wrong. Our point has been to see a strong monarch, has it not? She will want to prop up an old and withering King when instead we may provide them a younger and stronger version.”
Edward looked to them all and then to his mother, “I shall not want for anything as long as my father be alive.”
Cecily smiled to him but Norfolk did not, “Sir, I did not place my hide at stake for no reason. I am now a wanted man as much as any and I pride myself in my ability to snake through a wicket. This, my Lord...this is the gambit. We cannot be attained by a King that is no King.”
“Nor can we anoint another until he is here before us,” Edward answered, “It is no matter in any ways. There is nothing to be gained by simply declaring, sirs. We must win it.”
Warwick skewed an eye, “You mean to do battle for it all?”
“Why not?” Edward showed astonishment, “Has she not offered it already?”
“Her champion is Somerset, Ned,” Warwick replied, “You know this.”
“God how he detests you,” the younger Earl grinned at his cousin, “It was always you that he was after.”
Warwick narrowed his brow, “I think not. For he loves you more.”
“Sirs!” Cecily admonished and went to Edward. Holding tightly she pressed, “For the sake of your father, you hold no other choice. My son...be of true light and do your duty for this House.”
“I said I would,” Edward kept his gaze to Warwick, “And have done. Where be the Queen at the now?”
John Howard answered, “She was returning to York at last notice. It is said that many of her Scotsman have deserted and gone home with their plunder.”
“Perfect,” Edward smiled, “Then it may be easy pickings. I shall be able to present my father the crown that he is owed.”
Norfolk looked to him with an earnest plea, “I still say the crown is yours, sir. On my way to here, I heard a preacher calling out if they would have the King Henry as theirs and they did say nay. Yet when asked of you, my Lord...it was overwhelming the response.”
“And I say that we all ride north,” the young Earl stared at them with certainty, “The devil is in the details and we shall wrestle with him after we have wrestled with her. One King at a time, my Lords.”
Warwick mentally tallied before answering, “Even with the loss of Scots...she still holds to her many peers.”
“As we discuss here...” Edward showed a firm eye, “...peerage may change.”
The Duke of Norfolk downed his ale and slammed the cup to the mantle, “If it is your father you want, then you may have him. Just win the damned battle!”
Cecily tried to follow him but Edward held up a hand, “Leave him. We have but one thing ahead of us and all must be to the same purpose.”
“And when you face him...” Warwick questioned, “...you will be true?”
Edward smiled to him, “Do not doubt me, cousin. All men do at their peril.”
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Well, he was a good enough king to reign for a pretty long time, and only had some trouble when Warwick fell out with him and tried (succesfully) installing Henry back on the throne.
If that doesn't happen, and he doesn't die suddenly, all should be well...
If that doesn't happen, and he doesn't die suddenly, all should be well...
Edward showing an ability his father lacks; being able to prioritise the important things (defeating Margaret's forces) over things you worry about once you have won.
Another set of cracks between Warwick and Edward, fine ones to be sure but the signs are there. Obviously Richard (and indeed Edmund) being alive will change that, though it does depend on how Richard behaves once he has recovered.
Or is this being set up for the War of the Crippled Kings? Henry and Richard both incapable of ruling, for admittedly different reasons, but retained as the puppet leader of their factions while others scheme.
Another set of cracks between Warwick and Edward, fine ones to be sure but the signs are there. Obviously Richard (and indeed Edmund) being alive will change that, though it does depend on how Richard behaves once he has recovered.
Or is this being set up for the War of the Crippled Kings? Henry and Richard both incapable of ruling, for admittedly different reasons, but retained as the puppet leader of their factions while others scheme.
Well, that would work better for the yorkists. Their heir is a charismatic warrior with divine providence and a desire to actually rule.
Henry's heir...excepting Richard of course, is an infant under the thumb of the Queen. Of dubious heritage, and infamous influence. His actual heir is the Queen and everyone knows it.
The King has lost his marbles and Warwick a battle... Leaving York alive was wicked, sir.
Why hasn't York found a way to tell his family that he's alive?
Is Margaret going to the city of York because she heard rumors of York being alive? Or is she just trying to prove that she rules there, even though she doesn't?
Is Margaret going to the city of York because she heard rumors of York being alive? Or is she just trying to prove that she rules there, even though she doesn't?
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Indeed, don't sleep on Warwick.
Though it was historically a matter of fate, it does seem to me that Edward showed far more potential as possible King than Richard for these reasons. I've tried to put a little bit more of that in each of his posts as we have gone along.
Quite so.
Horribly wicked or wicked smart (as they say in Boston)?
On York, likely because he is in hiding. One assumes Margaret's people are still out there looking for him. As to her, I glossed over it in the post, but she was forced back north because her Scotsmen started deserting her after taking their bounty.
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Ferrybridge, March 1461
Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick sat at a lone table within his tent. A candle flickered near its end as the morning dew began to gather outside. He held his head in his hand and looked at the maps before him. Where would she be? They marched north to Pontefract and it was deserted of the Queen’s forces. Then on to York, he supposed. Yet how many did they hold?
“My Lord...” Hastings entered his tent, “...there has been some trouble.”
Warwick did not turn, “I thought you Ned’s man now. You come to me first?”
“It is my Lord of March that sends me, sir,” Hastings answered, “His brother in law the Earl of Suffolk was charged with rejoining the bridge near to the castle over the River Aire. It is said that he is set upon by a great many. Lord Edward has ordered a detachment to their rescue. He would wish you to lead it.”
“Must I do everything?” Warwick sighed but stood to find his helm, “Once more into the breach, eh Hastings?”
“I’m sure it is nothing, my Lord,” Sir William answered, “Though...Clifford be there.”
With a rush of adrenaline, the Earl of Warwick hurried from his tent to find his mount. Within minutes he was ahead of the contingent and as they fell upon the skirmish already in progress, he took the lead. It was only a grouping of small horsemen, yet they had harassed Suffolk’s soldiers and it had turned into a bloody fight. Wasting no time, Warwick plowed through the Lancastrian ranks with his men and turned back to charge again.
Lord Clifford had other plans. Seeing Warwick to the battle, he gathered many round him and offered his own charge. The two met just south of the crumbling bridge. The Earl of Suffolk took the brunt of the damage, but Warwick pressed until he was one to one with Clifford.
“You slew my brother!!!” the Earl shouted as they traded blows upon their mounts.
“As you did my father!!” Clifford answered with both tongue and sword, “And I shall be happy to spill your blood this day!!!”
Warwick forced his destrier around with a heavy lead on the reins, yet he was pulled from behind. Unhorsed, he scrambled and a blade struck him just below the shoulder. Clifford sneered as he trotted up alongside with his sword at the ready, “This is entirely to my pleas...”
He was uncertain what happened for a moment as he held his hand to his back to try and stop the bleeding and yet looked up to a dead man. Lord Clifford teetered in his saddle for a time before falling heavily to the ground with an arrow through his neck. Fighting lasted around them, but Warwick crawled. He found the man and held him close, dead eyes staring into the distance. Two generations of Cliffords killed for all of this and the Earl could only smile as he kissed him, “You son of a bitch...I wanted you!”
The melee around him seemed to lessen and finally another destrier stood over him and the rider looked down with a grin, “You seem injured, cousin.”
Warwick looked up to Edward in pain, “It is no thing...yet what do you do here?”
“I sent your uncle Fauconberg down river to ford,” Edward sat his horse, “His archers proved deadly.”
The elder Earl still held to the prone body of Lord Clifford, “I wanted to kill him myself.”
“You had your chance,” Edward reined in his mount, “Now be of good cheer. He is dead. Come now, cousin...we have much to do.”
As he rode off, Warwick winced in pain yet finally let go of the dead Clifford. Struggling to his feet in both agony and his armor, the Earl began the walk back to camp. He was eventually joined by the Earl of Suffolk, John de la Pole, “You saved our hide, my Lord. Fitzwalter was killed yet it may have been worse.”
“I did not do anything,” the Earl of Warwick replied with a grimace, “It is your brother that leads.”
Suffolk gave nod, “Tis true. Yon Clifford is not the only casualty. Your cousin the Baron Neville also gave out during the mess. Perhaps some justice for your father.”
As he trod on, the Earl of Warwick held back. He turned and surveyed the field and saw the dead bodies all around. And then he collapsed to be found some time later. He had lost a lot of blood. Yet what he most lost that day was his dignity. Slowly and slyly, Edward of York had eclipsed him. If Richard Neville was to be a kingmaker, he would have to do better. A lot better.
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Mmm. Warwick has some ambitions. Not of being king but being a trusted advisor and powerful magnate.
Possible, but he has to let go of any sort of pretension about being in the spotlight if he wants that to happen.
Possible, but he has to let go of any sort of pretension about being in the spotlight if he wants that to happen.
A kingmaker, huh? That could be an interesting subplot...
Also, that exchange about "you killed my [relative]" just proves that this war is becoming a cycle of revenge.
Also, that exchange about "you killed my [relative]" just proves that this war is becoming a cycle of revenge.
Warwick has a number of problems, most obviously is that Edward is a much better military leader and this is a civil war so that's quite important right now. Warwick has a lot of other skills, I think he plays the political game much better, but as noted to play it best he has to stay in the background.
His bigger problem is that being a Kingmaker is not particularly repeatable without lots of switching sides and betrayal. Right now York isn't even King and still hasn't committed to deposing Henry, even if he does Edward is the heir. There is no opportunity for Warwick to make any Kings without changing sides or scheming to disrupt his own side, so it's not a good ambition to have. Grey Eminence in the shadows, now that is more achievable and entirely in line with his skillset.
His bigger problem is that being a Kingmaker is not particularly repeatable without lots of switching sides and betrayal. Right now York isn't even King and still hasn't committed to deposing Henry, even if he does Edward is the heir. There is no opportunity for Warwick to make any Kings without changing sides or scheming to disrupt his own side, so it's not a good ambition to have. Grey Eminence in the shadows, now that is more achievable and entirely in line with his skillset.
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To all - The last scene, though important, was somewhat short. Thus I will post the last part of the chapter in a moment. You've probably got an idea where we are going (if you know the history.) Thanks for reading and giving comment!!
Which was always a problem for him.
It has indeed become a cycle. We are now seeing second generations die in the conflict. It was not kind to the noble families, but then again...they started it.
Quite true. This is the second battle Warwick has "lost" on his own only to have Edward rescue him. A bitter pill to swallow when he thought he was the mentor. As to his kingmaker status, I purposely use the lowercase. He's not yet earned any such moniker. Yet I would think just making one person King enough to his mind. After all, he has been much the instigator in this latest round pulling a reluctant York (seemingly) along with him. He may not have counted on Edward being more of a pusher despite Edward's many suggestions to him since Calais.
To all - The last scene, though important, was somewhat short. Thus I will post the last part of the chapter in a moment. You've probably got an idea where we are going (if you know the history.) Thanks for reading and giving comment!!
Towton, March 1461
He was to wear no shirt but a satin lined twilled cloth doublet slashed with holes for ventilation. Gussets of mail were sewn into the doublet under the arm. The twine used was durable as much as that to string a crossbow. More thick undergarments with patches of blanket to protect the knees and body were stitched all over with tough cord loops of which plates of heat strengthened metal were hung from throat to toe. In all of this, Edward of York, Earl of March and possible King of England sat stoically.
This was it. Everything he fought for. Everything he hoped to gain. For himself...and his father. After Ferrybridge his host had continued up the great road and now stood before Tadcaster. Or so the Queen desired. Instead, the young Earl had marched them straight into the fine meadows just outside of a small town north of Saxton. Towton was next...or her to York. It mattered not to Edward of York. The fire that lit his eyes to Mortimer’s Cross blazed and he looked ahead with purpose.
Horns shouted outside of the tent and the young Earl was helped from his stool. Sir William Hastings attended him, “My Lord, it is like to be the greatest battle that this realm has ever seen.”
“I know it well, sir,” Edward beamed as he held his helm under his arm, “And who better to bring about the future but you and I?”
Hastings lowered his head, “The Lord of Warwick remains indisposed, sir. He does send his regrets.”
Edward laughed, “My cousin has done enough. It is I that shall finish it. Let us go”
The Earl did and exited his tent to call for Lord Fauconberg. The Baron was quick to his side and Edward told him straightly, “It is a fine plateau, my Lord. A good and defensible position. Yet when the Lord of Somerset moves beyond the bend of that water, I wish to pin him back.”
“It is called Cock Beck, sir,” a voice called out and the Earl of Warwick approached with a limp, “A deep gully that he will try to use.”
Edward held his gaze to the horizon, “He is to our side, cousin. And you mention not the wood. Think that I have seen and know our placement.”
“Ned...” Warwick reached out to touch the young Earl’s shoulder, “...I just wanted to say...God be with you.”
Edward of York offered a slim nod without eyeing his cousin and walked briskly to his mount. Without assistance, he reached his saddle and stared forward, “This day will last...forever.”
The young Earl placed his helm to his head and shut the visor quickly. And then he rode out.
It was a snowy day and soon the blizzard of weather was joined by more. Longbowmen of either side lobbed their arrows yet the wind determined where they went. For the Yorkists, they were deadly. For Henry Beaufort, they were not. Men were pierced far back into the long line of his front and his own were stalled in the gale that pressed them. Yet the Duke of Somerset called forth his body and they joined.
Poleaxe and sword blade tore into armor and flesh and the screams of wounded horses and men sounded loudly. Steaming bodies began to pile up such were the forces arrayed. Fifty thousand men clashed that day and many of them would lose their life. It was bloody. It was fierce. It was eventually to be an annihilation.
Edward had given order that no one was to be spared. Somerset had likewise said as much. These two friends that knew each other so very well beat each other to a pulp. Grinding down in every which way, they punished each other. Blow for blow, the armies were matched and they gave and gave until one or the other gave out.
When the Earl’s left seemed to falter, Edward rushed to their side and his men followed. Beaten back, the Duke of Somerset attempted another thrust under the Earl of Northumberland. When Edward slew him, he did not even realize it such was his fury. The battle raged and Yorkist archers were destroying Lancastrian soldiers.
Yet suddenly it all changed. From the woods just south of the bend of Cock Beck, a host of cavalry descended upon the field led by Sir Andrew Trollope. Cutting through the Yorkist lines, the knight circled back and preyed upon his enemy. Edward tried to thwart the thrust but he was overcome.
The Duke of Somerset pressed his cause forward as he battled yet kept his eyes to the true battle of York. He could not get to him in this crush, yet he might spare him if he had the chance. What seemed as loss now seemed a gain but he did not want it to end like this. He pressed, knocking even his own men over to get to Edward.
The clash of swords was loud as Edward parried every thrust. Ten men lay dead beneath him as he fought on and considered his victory. Already Lancastrians were trying to flee across the river, many of them drowning. Such was the number, the bodies allowed a slight bridge in the macabre scene. And the Earl fought on for he was determined to be the victor.
Somerset rushed as he could and challenged every man in front of him. He could see Edward in the distance and tried to call out for him. The Earl of March did not hear. With pain to his eyes, Henry Beaufort watched one man pierce his friend’s arm just under the shoulder as another soldier cleaved into his skull with an axe.
Edward of York stood there...tall and reigning over the field. Shocked even. His eyes were wide as he lost all consciousness. As he fell over into the mass of bodies, Somerset yelled out, “No!!!!!”
“It is victory, sir!!” Trollope shouted as he rode past and fought on.
The Duke of Somerset was unable to move. He looked to the distance and years came back to him. His mind was a flourish of all of the many times...the slight jests...and the more untempered ones. This great boy. This great man.
“My Lord!!!” another soldier shouted, “To the north!!!”
As Henry Beaufort looked, he saw a ghost. Not that of his father nor even of his beloved friend. Instead forces rained down upon him with the sigil of the York fetterlock to their banners alongside the men of Norfolk’s affinity. Many more hundreds to enter into an already bloody battle. Somerset was in awe. He spied him and wondered...how is Richard of York alive?
He had little time to consider it. The fresh forces pressed down upon armies that had fought by now for ten hours. There was no more hope. Only dread...and sadness. The Duke of Somerset fled the field with only a few around him. The others...the others would be dealt with by Duke Richard.
The Duke of York was now older than his years due to his injury. Alongside the Duke of Norfolk, Richard reined in his horse and stepped with great temper and pain from the mount. He stomped around until one of his came to the Lord and gave him the news. His son...was dead.
Richard remained stone faced and asked in a low voice, “Where be the Lord of Somerset?”
Sir William Hastings approached, bloodied from his defense of his master, “My Lord...he is gone!”
“I know...” Richard choked up as he spoke, “...I know this. And I will have Somerset’s head!”
“No, my Lord...” Hastings followed, “...he has fled.”
“Edward! My Ned!!!” York fell to his knees in tears.
Norfolk rode up again behind him and announced, “It is a rout, my Lord. And we have captured some few.”
Richard felt the tears to his eyes and questioned softly, “Who?”
“Trollope...and you will not believe it...” Norfolk smirked, “...the Earl of Wiltshire.”
The Duke of York slowly stood from the ice and mud to the ground, “You...will wipe that smile from your face. And then you will bring them to me!”
It was his son Edmund that eventually did so. Still to the battlefield, York padded around seeing the faces of all the dead when his prisoners were announced. His son pressed them forward, “These are the scoundrels, sir!”
Richard looked to Edmund for a good long while before turning his gaze to Trollope and Wiltshire. He did not smile nor frown. He looked to them plainly, “See what you make me do. One of you is a traitor and the other, a coward.”
“I shall not apologize for defending my King!” Wiltshire shouted in defense but Trollope stayed quiet as he eyed the Duke.
York showed no sympathy, “My son...bring me my sword.”
Edmund held it aloft as if he himself wished to use it but passed it gently to his father. Norfolk stood behind and demanded they kneel, “You speak to the true King!”
Trollope kept his gaze as he followed the order, but the Earl of Wiltshire begged, “My Lord! Please!! You have always said that you follow...”
Edmund pressed the dagger deep into his body and stared as the life left Wiltshire’s eyes. He said not a word and Richard held a calm hand to his son’s shoulder. The Duke watched the body fall to the ground and then turned to Trollope, “You were a good soldier once. Mayhap still. It is too sad. Have you any last words?”
“Remember Normandy, my Lord,” Trollope replied as he rested to the dirt.
With furious strength Richard answered him and cut off his head. He did not look to Edmund in the after, nor to the Duke of Norfolk. Instead, Richard of York stormed off such that he was able. Possibly King of England...yet at what cost? None but his first born son…that glorious bright sun of York.
End of Chapter 21
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Mm. Now England really is buggered. Richard as King but a broken (ish) man, a second son who no one knows much in the way of battle or leadership, and Warwick now a lot more secure in the background (and probably therefore to stay loyal to the cause).
Meanwhile Lancaster is screwed. Another huge loss, this time quite possibly leading to Somerset having a full put with the Queen and her saying stupid things like she effed his dad and bore his bustard brother.
What a way to end the war. And it isn't even over yet!
Meanwhile Lancaster is screwed. Another huge loss, this time quite possibly leading to Somerset having a full put with the Queen and her saying stupid things like she effed his dad and bore his bustard brother.
What a way to end the war. And it isn't even over yet!
