They did. Though often blinded and/or with their nose cut off.
Still …-
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Fb-fb:
As to Henry's possible sin - given his pious nature, one assumes his whole life.
To all - I was hoping to get to the end of this chapter before the end of the year and it happened (or will in a moment.) Thank you all for giving me and this work support all through this year and before. We near to three years in the writing and I am far from done. I've hit some bumps in the road along the way, but you all have stood by me at every turn. So again - thank you, thank you, thank you!!
And don't forget to vote in the 2023 Yearly AARland Year-end AwAARds!
At this point, they are just figureheads. There to rally around to those that wish to. Not a terrible threat, but a threat nonetheless.
And yes to this. Young too which means it could be a rallying point for many years to come.
You make me think of that Pink Panther movie where everyone is out to kill Clouseau. I love those movies!
For Warwick, there is reason I bring back the character of Thomas of Bath. He leads elsewhere.
As to Henry's possible sin - given his pious nature, one assumes his whole life.
That is true. Henry remains a magnet for those disillusioned with Richard's reign. I cannot say much more on this for now, but it is a sticky wicket as long as he lives. Margaret less so even if everyone wishes to see her dead.
On Fulk, maybe because he still serves Warwick and there is possible reason to keep Henry alive and get Thomas out of there to be used later.
Again, I can't say too much on this for now. But it may become an issue going forward.They did. Though often blinded and/or with their nose cut off.
To all - I was hoping to get to the end of this chapter before the end of the year and it happened (or will in a moment.) Thank you all for giving me and this work support all through this year and before. We near to three years in the writing and I am far from done. I've hit some bumps in the road along the way, but you all have stood by me at every turn. So again - thank you, thank you, thank you!!
And don't forget to vote in the 2023 Yearly AARland Year-end AwAARds!
- 2
Westminster, April 1463
Edmund sat by the fire in the solar and stared into the flames. He was nostalgic and with that memory, he found sadness. Just recently two score in age, he considered that it had been two years since his brother Edward had died at the Battle of Towton. Ned would have been turning twenty and one soon. Such a bright light so rudely snuffed out. And yet it paved the way for his father to be King and Edmund himself as Prince and heir. He wondered if it was worth it.
“You are pensive, sir,” Richard spoke as he entered the solar and moved to pour some wine, “Should you not be carousing with your mates?”
“You know that is not me, papa,” Edmund did not turn to look at his father, “That was more Ned’s style.”
Richard shifted and took the seat next to him, “Take a care not to speak that name around your mother. She remains in great pain.”
“She’s not the only one,” the Prince replied with his own sadness.
“And you are not so different from your brother, I understand,” Richard showed a rare grin.
Edmund finally turned to him with surprise, “What mean you?”
“Please, sir...” the King held to his knee, “...I be your Lord father. I see much and hear more. The Lady Grey? Do you speak to me that you have not known her?”
Edmund protested, “She is a proper Lady, papa. While fine company, we would hold little else lest we married.”
“Which you will not do,” the King replied quickly, “You are promised to the Princess of Castile and she to you.”
“I know,” Edmund sighed, “Though I like it not.”
Richard stood to warm his backside and he looked sternly to his son, “It matters not whether you like it, sir. It is required. As your sister was promised to the King of Champagne, you will do your duty for this realm and your King and Lord father.”
“Of course I will,” the Prince allowed, “Yet...why are you still so determined? I would stand with you before Council, but even I do wonder if it be best to war with France and the others.”
Richard frowned, “God’s balls! Now you? Must I quarrel with all of my family? Your mother...your cousin...”
“Papa...” Edmund held up his hands, “...I do not quarrel. I merely question to know your mind better. We are secure so who may care if the woman and her charges remain to France where all is still so low. They are no threat at the now. Even the north has been pacified by Montagu and Warwick. All is calm and we thrive. Would it not be better to hold steady and prove our worth in governing?”
“You had better get your mind right on these matters,” Richard held his stern gaze, “We would prove our worth by honoring our commitment. I did say that we would see Normandy returned to England. And if we find any luck, we may rid ourselves of two troubles in one. Mayhap even three if the Scots honor their alliance with France. Lord Hasting and the young Duke of Norfolk are at the now already to the continent and delivering our terms.”
Edmund was curious, “Why did you not send cousin Warwick?”
“If you have to ask, then you have not been listening,” Richard was certain, “Warwick is useful for many things, but not this. He pouts as he is not given what he believes is due to him and more, he would think to control our policy to France, Burgundy and all else. Yet he is not King, nor even kingmaker as he considers it. Nay, sir! Only men that follow us fully would do our bidding.”
“No doubt that he is ambitious, papa...yet he is effective,” Edmund suggested.
Richard allowed a slim lip, “Which is why he shall remain to here when I go to France. As shall you.”
“Papa!” Edmund stood with some shock, “You cannot mean it! Are there not others to lead your armies? Uncle William? Norfolk? Surely there are aplenty to fight the French if they be so low. I would do so myself!”
The King waved a hand, “Nonsense. Kent and Norfolk would indeed join me, but I require you here to watch your cousin. To rule in my stead and keep our interests sound. I would not allow him to create any mischief. And besides...your mother and younger brothers require a tending. Georgie does well in his training with Leighson and Dickon is ready to find his fullness as well. You will hold an eye to this as with all others. I depend upon you, Ed.”
“Are you not too old?” Edmund questioned, “Is not war better left to younger men?”
Richard allowed a slight laugh, “Now you wound me, my son. I am not yet three score! There is fight left in this body and my deeds are not yet done.”
“Loathe that I am to disagree with you, papa...” Edmund followed, “...but you are not a warrior King. I am sorry...but it is true. Your strength is administrative and all know it.”
“Memories are so short lived,” Richard shifted to refill his cup, “I have fought many times to France and do not forget that my arrival to Towton was decisive. This crown was won in battle and so shall that of France if I have my way. I agree...I be not Henry named the fifth. Yet I shall accomplish what he did. Mark my words. I shall do so before I leave this mortal coil.”
Edmund looked to his father with worry, “Or you might die in the trying...as that Henry ultimately did.”
“Then one more reason for you to stay to here, my son,” Richard turned to him, “If I am to leave, then you must learn how to rule.”
“I never wanted that,” the Prince looked again to the fire.
Richard moved to him and held roughly to his collar, “And yet it is yours! Your brother is dead, sir! And so it moves to you, like it or no! Get your mind right on that!”
“I understand, papa!” Edmund answered strongly as he pulled away, “Yet I believe you to take too much risk!”
“My entire life has been one of risk,” Richard stepped back and stood as tall as he might, “By virtue of my father, every step I took might have been considered treason and in fact was called so. And yet, where are those men now? Who does wear the crown? Not them.”
Edmund held taller than his father, “Indeed so. You have gained it. Now wear it proudly...and in safety.”
“There be no safety until there are no pretenders,” the King replied quickly, “As long as Henry lives...or his bastard...Beauforts and the whore...we are none of us safe. There will always be a cause for people to rally round. I am not content to wait. I will act now and do so decisively. Root and stem, my son. I shall rip them from the earth and be done with them.”
“I would still rather be with you, papa,” Edmund pleaded, “Rebel Lords are one thing. Whatever they are, the French still hold armies. So too Burgundy if they choose to join. And the Scots to the north. It will not be one battle to decide it all but a sustained war that may last for years. I would stand by you and wish to.”
Richard turned back to the fire and drank his wine before giving answer, “Your place is to here and that is final. See to it that your cousin does not take advantage of my absence. And when I return victorious, we shall then see if there be any left standing.”
End of Chapter 23
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And thus the Hundred Years War enters in a new phase and becomes the Two Hundred Years War.
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If it means the end of France as a country and a concept then it shall be fought gladly, yea even for a hundred more beyond.
Though honestly even someone as militarily middling as Richard should be able to finish them off fairly easily at this point.
- 1
Richard clearly doesn't trust Warwick. I fear this may encourage his betrayal...
To be somewhat more serious this is clearly true. Even if Warwick is chaffing at not having the power and influence he wants (and even if he is being uncharacteristically dull-witted about how he is acting
) Richard is just making things worse. Leaving him angry but still powerful is the worst combination, he is taking Warwick's loyalty for granted which is frankly a baffling thing to do - look at Richard's own life, if the Battle of Ludford Bridge taught him nothing else surely it should have been not to assume anything about allies.Also Edmund calling out what we have long said, that Richard is no Warrior King. Feels like some ominous foreshadowing there, though I hope Richard meets with success nonetheless.
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I feel like there is no one who can influence Richard. If he won't take influence from anyone he is overconfident in his own talents, which we know to have limits.
That's dangerous. But maybe King Edmund will do better.
Rensslaer
That's dangerous. But maybe King Edmund will do better.
Rensslaer
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You know, I was just thinking about this today at work, but @coz1 , now that’s no longer relevant to the plot at all, what’s your stance on Edward IV’s paternity?
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Fb-fb:
To all - First of all, Happy New Year!!! I hope the holidays were joyful. As some might have noticed, I took a little time off as well and started yet another AAR - The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly on Castile. It's a lark, gameplay AAR just for fun and perhaps to get my juices flowing again. Writing has been a bit rough of late due to the new work schedule. However, we are far from done here and this upcoming chapter is already complete. Thus, it begins in just a moment...
Well, it was already over 150 years.
Hey now...Richard believes himself a military genius.
It definitely could.
There is a sense that Richard has let this whole thing go to his head, or at least feeling himself a bit too much. There might be something to be said for the constantly thwarted Richard as opposed to the victorious one.To be somewhat more serious this is clearly true. Even if Warwick is chaffing at not having the power and influence he wants (and even if he is being uncharacteristically dull-witted about how he is acting
Also Edmund calling out what we have long said, that Richard is no Warrior King. Feels like some ominous foreshadowing there, though I hope Richard meets with success nonetheless.
It is indeed dangerous for a leader to consider himself the smartest in the room at all times. Life in a bubble is limiting.
France is about to get something, to be sure.
I've never put much credence in the bastardy line, though I did mention it here and suggest that the rumors were out there. From my reading, there is very little if anything to suggest that the timeline does not add up. Some have suggested perhaps that Richard was not in Rouen at the time Cecily became pregnant, but after all of these years there is nothing to really prove that. Thus, to me, Edward was his natural son. All of his sons took after the Nevilles, really (tall mostly, unlike short, stocky Richard) so just because they don't look terribly alike, it would be something for ALL of Richard's sons to be bastards.
To all - First of all, Happy New Year!!! I hope the holidays were joyful. As some might have noticed, I took a little time off as well and started yet another AAR - The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly on Castile. It's a lark, gameplay AAR just for fun and perhaps to get my juices flowing again. Writing has been a bit rough of late due to the new work schedule. However, we are far from done here and this upcoming chapter is already complete. Thus, it begins in just a moment...
- 1
Chapter 24: The Kings War
* * *
Caen, April 1464
* * *
Caen, April 1464
His heart raced as he ran through the forest and dodged the low branches of trees that surrounded him. Out of breath, he saw a cover under the heavy canopy of a larch and fell to the ground. He pulled his knees close and dared not look back. He could still hear the sounds of battle behind him but he covered his ears to block it out. He never wanted to be here in the first place.
Was it hours or minutes that passed? He could not remember. Yet when he finally opened his eyes, the sound to the distance seemed to stop. It was eerily silent in fact. Fear filled his heart and he leaned back to the trunk of the tree hoping to make his own body smaller. Yet he was too big. With a count to three, he finally took the chance and peeked his head slowly around the tree.
He saw no castle, nor town. It was woods for miles and he did not know how he got there. Meekly shifting to his knees, he crawled out and looked around. No soldiers. No guns. Nothing. Just the forest. Could it be? Had he escaped?
After a brief moment to catch his breath again, he stood. Which way to go? The Abbey? Where was it? And was it safe anyway? Too close to the garrison and surely it had fallen. It had been nearly a year and they were close to starvation at any rate. But where was she? And the boy? And Somerset? He did not know because he left them all behind. When the moment presented itself, he bolted and now here he was.
Yet he went from one captive to another...or a fear of it. If they found him, what would they do? Kill him? Imprison him? No...surely kill him. He was not ready to meet his God though he revered him so. Yet where was safe? Another monastery, perhaps. He could disguise himself as a monk. Yes...that might work.
Taking slow and careful steps through the wood, he took his time and finally emerged from the tree line to spy just what he was looking for. Down the hill stood a meager looking barn and keep. Crops and farm animals surrounded it and he knew that this may be his only hope. With seeming stealth, he walked through the pens of pigs and goats and finally to the front door. He hesitated before giving knock but he did not need to. Another behind him spoke out.
“A weary pilgrim?”
He froze at first but then tried to relax as he turned, “I am hungry.”
“You do not look to need our rations,” the monk stated as he looked him up and down and noticed the finery in his dress.
“Yet I do...” the man said with a plea to his voice, “...for I am unnerved and lost.”
“Lost, you say?” the monk inquired, “Where be your place of return?”
He could not recall. There was the castle….yet which one? And her...who was she? When he still did not answer, the monk looked to him kindly, “Let us then enter and find you a bowl. Perhaps some victuals will assist.”
“Bless you,” he answered and was happily lead to the dining hall.
After he was brought some broth, the monk calmly watched him eat and smiled. Finally the monk suggested, “There is always sustenance in God.”
“That is true,” he said as he wiped some liquid from his scruffy looking chin, “I have always found that to be the case.”
“Why be you so troubled, my son?”
Why indeed? He thought about it and tried to answer, “I am unmade when all I have ever wished was the bosom of the Lord and Christ our Savior.”
“These are good wishes,” the monk gave nod, “Yet why do you find such lacking?”
“I...I do not know,” he answered, “I...I fear that I am to be made more than I am or desire. When all I would ever wish is...this. A calm country life in service to God.”
The monk offered a slight laugh, “We have that here aplenty.”
“May I stay?” he questioned.
“It would depend,” the monk replied and then asked, “What are your deeds?”
He thought about it, “My good works? I have...I have founded...I have prayed. Often. Always desiring the love of God and for Him.”
The monk skewed a brow, “There is many a man that claims it. Yet it is another to show it. To prove it. Have you done so?”
“Yes,” he answered immediately, “Every time!”
“Then you must prove it here.”
“I would...” he put down his spoon and leaned forward to the table, “...I will!”
The monk gave nod, “Good. Then accept your fate.”
“Over here!!!” he heard the shouts and opened his eyes again.
His fear returned and he dared not look. But he had to. When he did, the monk was gone. So too the keep and barn. The pigs and goats and crops. He was back and heard the sounds of distant thunder provided by the siege weapons. And then he saw them. A small group of soldiers on horse that slowly pressed in upon him.
“You there!” a soldier said as he held a sword pointed towards him, “Come out from that hiding!”
He raised defenseless hands and crept from the brush on his knees, “I would do no harm.”
“No you won’t,” the soldier replied and then realized what he had found. He looked to the others with a smile, “We have him!”
The man tried to back away as the horse moved in on him, but finally pressed to the ground in front of him in defeat, “I trust in God.”
“For your sake, let us hope that His Grace the King does as well,” the soldier answered as he unmounted and moved to tie the prisoner’s wrists with rope.
He was emaciated. His chin and cheeks were covered in stubble. His hair was matted and his belly hungry. And his mind was weak. His Grace King Henry late called the sixth of that name to England could do not other but comply. It was his only option.
- 2
Chapter 24: The Kings War
* * *
Caen, April 1464
His heart raced as he ran through the forest and dodged the low branches of trees that surrounded him. Out of breath, he saw a cover under the heavy canopy of a larch and fell to the ground. He pulled his knees close and dared not look back. He could still hear the sounds of battle behind him but he covered his ears to block it out. He never wanted to be here in the first place.
Was it hours or minutes that passed? He could not remember. Yet when he finally opened his eyes, the sound to the distance seemed to stop. It was eerily silent in fact. Fear filled his heart and he leaned back to the trunk of the tree hoping to make his own body smaller. Yet he was too big. With a count to three, he finally took the chance and peeked his head slowly around the tree.
He saw no castle, nor town. It was woods for miles and he did not know how he got there. Meekly shifting to his knees, he crawled out and looked around. No soldiers. No guns. Nothing. Just the forest. Could it be? Had he escaped?
After a brief moment to catch his breath again, he stood. Which way to go? The Abbey? Where was it? And was it safe anyway? Too close to the garrison and surely it had fallen. It had been nearly a year and they were close to starvation at any rate. But where was she? And the boy? And Somerset? He did not know because he left them all behind. When the moment presented itself, he bolted and now here he was.
Yet he went from one captive to another...or a fear of it. If they found him, what would they do? Kill him? Imprison him? No...surely kill him. He was not ready to meet his God though he revered him so. Yet where was safe? Another monastery, perhaps. He could disguise himself as a monk. Yes...that might work.
Taking slow and careful steps through the wood, he took his time and finally emerged from the tree line to spy just what he was looking for. Down the hill stood a meager looking barn and keep. Crops and farm animals surrounded it and he knew that this may be his only hope. With seeming stealth, he walked through the pens of pigs and goats and finally to the front door. He hesitated before giving knock but he did not need to. Another behind him spoke out.
“A weary pilgrim?”
He froze at first but then tried to relax as he turned, “I am hungry.”
“You do not look to need our rations,” the monk stated as he looked him up and down and noticed the finery in his dress.
“Yet I do...” the man said with a plea to his voice, “...for I am unnerved and lost.”
“Lost, you say?” the monk inquired, “Where be your place of return?”
He could not recall. There was the castle….yet which one? And her...who was she? When he still did not answer, the monk looked to him kindly, “Let us then enter and find you a bowl. Perhaps some victuals will assist.”
“Bless you,” he answered and was happily lead to the dining hall.
After he was brought some broth, the monk calmly watched him eat and smiled. Finally the monk suggested, “There is always sustenance in God.”
“That is true,” he said as he wiped some liquid from his scruffy looking chin, “I have always found that to be the case.”
“Why be you so troubled, my son?”
Why indeed? He thought about it and tried to answer, “I am unmade when all I have ever wished was the bosom of the Lord and Christ our Savior.”
“These are good wishes,” the monk gave nod, “Yet why do you find such lacking?”
“I...I do not know,” he answered, “I...I fear that I am to be made more than I am or desire. When all I would ever wish is...this. A calm country life in service to God.”
The monk offered a slight laugh, “We have that here aplenty.”
“May I stay?” he questioned.
“It would depend,” the monk replied and then asked, “What are your deeds?”
He thought about it, “My good works? I have...I have founded...I have prayed. Often. Always desiring the love of God and for Him.”
The monk skewed a brow, “There is many a man that claims it. Yet it is another to show it. To prove it. Have you done so?”
“Yes,” he answered immediately, “Every time!”
“Then you must prove it here.”
“I would...” he put down his spoon and leaned forward to the table, “...I will!”
The monk gave nod, “Good. Then accept your fate.”
“Over here!!!” he heard the shouts and opened his eyes again.
His fear returned and he dared not look. But he had to. When he did, the monk was gone. So too the keep and barn. The pigs and goats and crops. He was back and heard the sounds of distant thunder provided by the siege weapons. And then he saw them. A small group of soldiers on horse that slowly pressed in upon him.
“You there!” a soldier said as he held a sword pointed towards him, “Come out from that hiding!”
He raised defenseless hands and crept from the brush on his knees, “I would do no harm.”
“No you won’t,” the soldier replied and then realized what he had found. He looked to the others with a smile, “We have him!”
The man tried to back away as the horse moved in on him, but finally pressed to the ground in front of him in defeat, “I trust in God.”
“For your sake, let us hope that His Grace the King does as well,” the soldier answered as he unmounted and moved to tie the prisoner’s wrists with rope.
He was emaciated. His chin and cheeks were covered in stubble. His hair was matted and his belly hungry. And his mind was weak. His Grace King Henry late called the sixth of that name to England could do not other but comply. It was his only option.
Somebody just kill this guy and put him out of his confused and unhappy life. As soon as he's dead, almost the entire civil war threat ends. No one is going to be riding to the rescue of the queen, and the 'prince' has no experience, nothing to offer, and is in fact not even the son of Henry.
They could end all this trouble right now.
So, Al, I'm reading the opening post of this AAR, and about half way through I said in my best Keanu Reeves voice, "Whoa, deja vu." This is familiar. Then, in your next post it became clear. WotR. EU3. 2007. I ended up re-reading the original thread and relishing the FB from so many familiar 'faces'. Anyway, here I am, ready to dive in this new WotR rabbit hole. It'll take a while, but I'm looking forward to the ride.
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- 1
Fb-fb:
You'll have to wait until a least a year as we flashback to how we got here.
It takes about six or seven posts of material written back in 2007 (with some editing) to get to the original work starting in 2021, but I hope it blends. And thank you so much for jumping in to read this, Bruce!!! Truly a gift to me!
- 1
Bearing in mind how unlucky and how clumsy is our good Henry VI, it would be quite fitting if he avoided being killed and to be re-crowned just to die in a silly accident.
Well, Henry has finally found his true cause. I see no issue with making him a monk - it's not like any would accept a monk as their king.
I doubt that the civil war will end, though. Richard still has enemies - they can find claimants to the throne to back. Does Henry (or Somerset) have daughters?
Also, people don't know that the prince was Somerset's... natural child.
I doubt that the civil war will end, though. Richard still has enemies - they can find claimants to the throne to back. Does Henry (or Somerset) have daughters?
Also, people don't know that the prince was Somerset's... natural child.
Well, as much terrible as York and Warwick had getting anyone to ride up against the Mediocre Monstrosity of Henry's reign, I feel like if Richard had no serious rival claimants he's due a certain degree of return on the sentiment.
Otherwise politics would be fair!
Rensslaer
Otherwise politics would be fair!
Rensslaer
I saw what you did there. I wasn't going to post anything until I had caught up on all 80 some pages, but I couldn't help but comment on this little gem
.- 2
I did notice that the identity of the King that Henry is being dragged towards was not mentioned. Given his track record it's entirely possible it isn't Richard.
I also have to disagree with TBC about how offing Henry could end the whole thing, sure it would tidy up one line but issues remain. Specifically there is the presence of 'Chekov's Baby', a great deal of time has been spent on Tudors and Beauforts so I assume that strand will come into play at some point and not in a way the Yorkists will appreciate.
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