The Yorkist Rose
The Beginning of a War
York, England. 1455
The halls of York castle were filled with people, young men and women dressed in fine colours, all wearing white roses upon their breasts. The talk was of a mad king and of a French woman who persisted to rule the country in his place, despite the better wants of the country. The talk somewhat offended Edmund, Earl of Rutland as he walked the halls hearing the emphasis on the word French, as though this were in itself a sin by nature as though he and his brother were damned just for their birth. He said nothing, wishing not offend his father, he silently sat by the man. “Edmund! My boy! Where is your brother?”
“George is entertaining the children of the Duke of Buckingham my Lord.”
The Duke simply nodded and turned his attention to the woman next to him, his wife holding their three year old gem safely in her arms, Richard Plantagenet held food in his tiny hands crushing it before eating it, a smile on his dirty face as he looked over the crowd, surprisingly alert and forward for a small child. The Duke's attention moved away with a trumpet sounding and an announcement. “My Lord, Earl of Warwick.” The man, now the twenty seven year old guardian and tutor of the thirteen year old Edward, walked quickly toward the front table where he offered a bow to the Duke.
“Warwick.”
“My Lord, My Lady.” He regard the two figures sitting central on the table. “I am glad for the invite the shamefully I bring news.”
“How is my son dear nephew, has he grown.”
“My lady, Edward is tall, a determined fighter and one who allows God to determine his actions.”
“His Latin, how is his Latin?”
“A fine art my Lady, a fine art.” He turned quickly to the Duke. “Alas though My Lord, his health fails him.”
The Duke and Duchess dropped their glasses looking at each other, this truly meant disaster. “This cannot be, why would the Lord give me hope and tear it away so soon? The physicians ensured after his infancy his health.”
“These things My Lord they happen.”
“Is he too ill to present himself?”
“Alas my Lord that is the-” The Earls words were cut short as another trumpet sounded and the same man's voice spoke loud and deep.
“My Lord, Edward Earl of March.” The hall fell silent as the Duke stood ready to greet his eldest child, he stepped from behind the table to the height of his guests and greeted the tall and slow moving boy by resting his hands on the boys shoulders, tilting his head up and checking his teeth, his hand briefly checking his temperature.
“My son you have a fever, you should not be so open.” The Duke removed his doublet wrapping it around his son despite the boys already heavy dress. “Wife, have the boy a seat and food, some wine if you please.” He ignored the young Earls objections sitting him on a fine chair and ensuring his comfort, ignoring the attention they were receiving from the many guests, it wasn’t long before a servant brought the Duke another doublet to cover his naked torso with, the material wrapped around Edward once again before the Dukes attention followed his son's eyes and turned to Warwick. “You allowed the boy to travel?”
“My Lord allow me-”
“He did not know.”
“You travelled alone?”
“I readied my horse and left.”
“You shall travel no more, wife he is warm.” The Duke took Cecily's hand in his own resting her palm against their son's head. The woman handed Richard over to his brother Edmund edging closer to their eldest now taking him in her arms standing them both and slowly walking.
“Have food brought to his room, Lord Warwick I'd hope you would explain to the Duke about our son's advancement and hope it saves your case and your head.” She left quickly hurrying the boy through the crowds to a private bed chamber where he was laid to sleep in hope of recovery before Cecily joined the celebrations once more leaving him in the company of Anne and Elizabeth.
The night was long, hot and uncomfortable. Edward had called out many times on deaf ears, the cut in their wealth, forced by that Anjou whore married to a crazy king had reduced the servant numbers, reduced his chance of help. He stood, using a wooden cabinet as support only to send a pewter bowl of water crashing to the stone floor as he collapsed. Hurried footsteps followed quickly and a woman, a servant dressed in black entered helping him to his feet. “My Lord what are you doing out of bed?”
“I wish to take a walk.”
“You are mad I am sure, I shall fetch the Duke your father, just sit, he will know what to do-”
“I am not mad, I wish to take a walk to cool my skin.” The servant tested his forehead.
“My Lord you are hot, yes, a walk.” She lifted his weight onto her shoulder carrying the boys weight as they trailed into the court yard. “My Lord do not fall out here, your father would have my head.”
“I would not allow it.”
They walked in silence through the maze of nature to the iron gates where to Edward's surprise a carriage waited, a man with a heavy accent stood. “My Lord.” He bowed, Edward regard him with a cold silence. “My Lady.”
“I am but a servant sir what would you wish?”
“The Duke of York has requested I take young Edward to a place away from the dirty city to recover.”
“This is true?”
Edward was about to object when the man insisted, the woman opened the gates sending the young Earl into the carriage where he was made comfortable with all the luxuries someone in his position could wish for.
The halls of York castle were filled with people, young men and women dressed in fine colours, all wearing white roses upon their breasts. The talk was of a mad king and of a French woman who persisted to rule the country in his place, despite the better wants of the country. The talk somewhat offended Edmund, Earl of Rutland as he walked the halls hearing the emphasis on the word French, as though this were in itself a sin by nature as though he and his brother were damned just for their birth. He said nothing, wishing not offend his father, he silently sat by the man. “Edmund! My boy! Where is your brother?”
“George is entertaining the children of the Duke of Buckingham my Lord.”
The Duke simply nodded and turned his attention to the woman next to him, his wife holding their three year old gem safely in her arms, Richard Plantagenet held food in his tiny hands crushing it before eating it, a smile on his dirty face as he looked over the crowd, surprisingly alert and forward for a small child. The Duke's attention moved away with a trumpet sounding and an announcement. “My Lord, Earl of Warwick.” The man, now the twenty seven year old guardian and tutor of the thirteen year old Edward, walked quickly toward the front table where he offered a bow to the Duke.
“Warwick.”
“My Lord, My Lady.” He regard the two figures sitting central on the table. “I am glad for the invite the shamefully I bring news.”
“How is my son dear nephew, has he grown.”
“My lady, Edward is tall, a determined fighter and one who allows God to determine his actions.”
“His Latin, how is his Latin?”
“A fine art my Lady, a fine art.” He turned quickly to the Duke. “Alas though My Lord, his health fails him.”
The Duke and Duchess dropped their glasses looking at each other, this truly meant disaster. “This cannot be, why would the Lord give me hope and tear it away so soon? The physicians ensured after his infancy his health.”
“These things My Lord they happen.”
“Is he too ill to present himself?”
“Alas my Lord that is the-” The Earls words were cut short as another trumpet sounded and the same man's voice spoke loud and deep.
“My Lord, Edward Earl of March.” The hall fell silent as the Duke stood ready to greet his eldest child, he stepped from behind the table to the height of his guests and greeted the tall and slow moving boy by resting his hands on the boys shoulders, tilting his head up and checking his teeth, his hand briefly checking his temperature.
“My son you have a fever, you should not be so open.” The Duke removed his doublet wrapping it around his son despite the boys already heavy dress. “Wife, have the boy a seat and food, some wine if you please.” He ignored the young Earls objections sitting him on a fine chair and ensuring his comfort, ignoring the attention they were receiving from the many guests, it wasn’t long before a servant brought the Duke another doublet to cover his naked torso with, the material wrapped around Edward once again before the Dukes attention followed his son's eyes and turned to Warwick. “You allowed the boy to travel?”
“My Lord allow me-”
“He did not know.”
“You travelled alone?”
“I readied my horse and left.”
“You shall travel no more, wife he is warm.” The Duke took Cecily's hand in his own resting her palm against their son's head. The woman handed Richard over to his brother Edmund edging closer to their eldest now taking him in her arms standing them both and slowly walking.
“Have food brought to his room, Lord Warwick I'd hope you would explain to the Duke about our son's advancement and hope it saves your case and your head.” She left quickly hurrying the boy through the crowds to a private bed chamber where he was laid to sleep in hope of recovery before Cecily joined the celebrations once more leaving him in the company of Anne and Elizabeth.
The night was long, hot and uncomfortable. Edward had called out many times on deaf ears, the cut in their wealth, forced by that Anjou whore married to a crazy king had reduced the servant numbers, reduced his chance of help. He stood, using a wooden cabinet as support only to send a pewter bowl of water crashing to the stone floor as he collapsed. Hurried footsteps followed quickly and a woman, a servant dressed in black entered helping him to his feet. “My Lord what are you doing out of bed?”
“I wish to take a walk.”
“You are mad I am sure, I shall fetch the Duke your father, just sit, he will know what to do-”
“I am not mad, I wish to take a walk to cool my skin.” The servant tested his forehead.
“My Lord you are hot, yes, a walk.” She lifted his weight onto her shoulder carrying the boys weight as they trailed into the court yard. “My Lord do not fall out here, your father would have my head.”
“I would not allow it.”
They walked in silence through the maze of nature to the iron gates where to Edward's surprise a carriage waited, a man with a heavy accent stood. “My Lord.” He bowed, Edward regard him with a cold silence. “My Lady.”
“I am but a servant sir what would you wish?”
“The Duke of York has requested I take young Edward to a place away from the dirty city to recover.”
“This is true?”
Edward was about to object when the man insisted, the woman opened the gates sending the young Earl into the carriage where he was made comfortable with all the luxuries someone in his position could wish for.