Searching for a King
3
Richard Plantagenet, King of England walked through The Tower. Every thought passed his mind since the boys had vanished. Were they dead? Though who could have done it? Elizabeth Woodville, despite her flaws, despire her need to incriminate him on every level would not be so small, so petty, so utterly heartless as to kill her own children. No, that was beyond even her. Margaret Beaufort and Henry Tudor, the obvious suspects of course, and the princes would have every reason to be the centre of their rage, as much as him. Then the question had arose, why would they tae their fury out on two innocent boys and not him, the Yorkist king they so hated? No, to plant the blame upon him was not enough, not even when he had made the most unpopular move to send the all-loved William Hastings to his death. No one in their right minds would believe he had killed his own nephews. So then they had vanished.... How could two boys just vanish?
It had been that extraordinary fact which had made him believe in the impossible. The Tower had not been so much as seiged in a century, when King Richard, the second of that name had lost control of the peasantry and ended the life of Arch Bishop Sudley with his pathetic rule, the reason this disaster of the past century had happened. The reason King Henry the fifth and his mad son had taken the throne to begin with. The reason why his father, the Duke of York had needed to lose his head with Rutland and the reason Edward, dearest Edward had slein thousands, simply to gain profit from the bloodshed. Who would have the power to not only seige The Tower but once again burst the battlements and enter the bailey, to enter The Tower and crack a cell to release two otherwise helpless young boys, and to make him look like a frankly terrible King. Not only who could; but who would have the motivation to do so? Again, he had eliminated the Woodvilles, Sir Anthony would have been the only name to come to mind, yet he was safely dead and buried along with his treasonous friend Lord Hastings.
Yet someone close to those boys had removed them, and removed them evidently unharmed. Someone they had trusted, for the men had mentioned no protesting from the young princes. Edward had been carried, but the boy had not fought when he had walked. If Richard knew anything about his pious, proud little nephew, he knew that Edward, the old Prince of Wales, the deposed king of England and his brother, Richard Duke of York would happily, merrily have called their protest in shouting their most noble titltes, and by god they would have been heard. No man in England was able to silently take those boys from their safehold, even he himself had foudn difficulty in taking the boys from their uncle Anthony. NO gag was strong enough, nor chains strong enough. A name came to mind, yet he could not believe it plausable, less so possible.
The court had put the opening of his brothers grave down to grave robbers, which had caused fury in the loyal Yorkist court. Only Lord Hastings had remained silent on the matter. Edward's own chamberlain had remained silent on the matter of Edward's grave having been opened. Richard himself had never belived it could have been grave robbers, at Windsor, it would have been impossible. Yet until now, he had simply thought Hastings had been behind the graves opening, now he was certain. Yet the reason before he had not known, now he had to admit, though it was impossible, for once it could not be improbable. It had to be so, Edward was not dead.
The thought had come so suddenly it had made him laugh, gaining the attention of Anne Neville as she stood next to him. Quickly he smiled, taking he hand in hiw own, reluctant to share his worries with her. Not for the normal reason, the one thing Richard conceded was similar among his Yorkist brothers had been their respect of women, and their independence. Even Edward, a man who had taken it as his right to take a woman simply for her sex and looks had found his respect for women - especially their opinions. Yet impossible it would have been to have thought anything but the strong minded will of women, when your mother was the dowager duchess of York, Cecily Neville herself. The woman was stoic, a lagend among them all, a goddess and a saint and not one man would dare to take it in their stride to argue with the woman. Not even their father had argued with her - or so Richard remembered it to be. The only person to have come close to arguing with the woman Richard called his lady mother had been the strongest and braveest man even now he had eveer known. And Edward had been crushed, splattered and thrown to the floor for it. He had entered the argument the Golden boy of York, the king of England with Gods blessing in his hand and he had left the broken shadow of a man. No Richard did not think Anne incapable of taking on a mans worries, quite the contrary. Richard simply thought himself so lost of sense that he could not share the most impossible conclusion he had drawn in his thirty years.
With a kiss planted on his ladies hand, Richard turned and left, taking the stairs two at a time. Moving too quickly for Anne to follow. He shouted to the stable boy "My horse, damn you ready my horse!" It was minutes before he was on the geldings back and charging through the streets of London, dank and stinking to the tiny crowded streest of East Chepe, racing the beast down cobbles, men at his back torches blazing and swords a ready. He stopped outside the small house, a now familiar little place, the safe house for the Woodville-Hastings campaign, a hosue he had not so much thought of visiting since the day of Hastings death. He held a hand up to the men at arms who stood loyal behind him. Knocking on the door, waiting for the young woman to answer before pushing the door to its full, stopping as he looked around the smoke filled room. For a moment there was nothing, only him and Jane Shore alive to the world, dark eyes followed every inch of the room, about to thank the lady for her time when the movement caught his attention, a sutle move and a shining blade. He had seen the sort on only one man alone. "Brother, I would suggest you drop your blade for it be treason to hold it upon me."
"Treason, I left my throne to my son dear brother, not to you."
"Edward let me explain."
"You betrayed me, worse than George dear Richard for you waitied until none could object, when I swore upon what you thought my deathbed to make you my sons protector, and back you swore to protect him through good and bad and make him king you coupe him th towe and call him illegitimate."
"Edward-"
"Do not." He stepped forward, about to shout, reach out and touch the boy as he ran forward, charging toward his uncle as though he were a mad man. None could stop the disaster before it struck, all reached out to catch the boy, all failing as Richard seized the boys shoulder. "Richard, for the love of god release him, I beg you."
For the first time Richard saw tears form in his brothers eyes, heard the break in his voice and gulped. he almost enjoyed it, for once being the one in power of these two great brothers. The one who could weild the axe without a need. He pulled the dagger from the young princes belt, holding it to his throat. The boy whimpered under his touch, Edward gulped, trying to step forward retreating quickly. "The boy is coming with me Edward, and theres nothing you could do about it. He comes or you die."
"Richard. See sense, what is this?"
"Law my dear brother. Law." No one said another word as Richard guided the boy from the house lifting him onto the horse, taking the reins. it was a moment before with silent approach the Duke of Buckingham dropped from his horse, placing the tip of his sword at the soft of Richard's back.
"Thank you your grace, we are most thankful." The duke seixed the princes reins, taking the child from the horse in one swoop. The boy hit the ground with a thud. Richard shouted for Edward, watching as his brother stoof in the doorway, eyes fixed on the whimpering child.
"Edward! Run!" Richard gulped the words as he ran to his nephews side, looking to his brother with pleading eyes as Buckingham approached, seeing the young duke hit the floor as Edward took him down, setting to a run. He was no fool, all knew it was hopeless to try and save the child. Buckingham returned to the child, knowing it pointless to chase the Yorkist adult. Walking quickly, he rose the sword, taking it without issue into the young princes chest. Richard took a moment as the duke retreated. The king of england was left to cry as the young prince, his own nephew, lay dying in his arms. It was a moment before Edward returned, taking the child in sobs of paternal agony. "I promise Ned, I'll avenge this, if it is the last thing I do."
It had been that extraordinary fact which had made him believe in the impossible. The Tower had not been so much as seiged in a century, when King Richard, the second of that name had lost control of the peasantry and ended the life of Arch Bishop Sudley with his pathetic rule, the reason this disaster of the past century had happened. The reason King Henry the fifth and his mad son had taken the throne to begin with. The reason why his father, the Duke of York had needed to lose his head with Rutland and the reason Edward, dearest Edward had slein thousands, simply to gain profit from the bloodshed. Who would have the power to not only seige The Tower but once again burst the battlements and enter the bailey, to enter The Tower and crack a cell to release two otherwise helpless young boys, and to make him look like a frankly terrible King. Not only who could; but who would have the motivation to do so? Again, he had eliminated the Woodvilles, Sir Anthony would have been the only name to come to mind, yet he was safely dead and buried along with his treasonous friend Lord Hastings.
Yet someone close to those boys had removed them, and removed them evidently unharmed. Someone they had trusted, for the men had mentioned no protesting from the young princes. Edward had been carried, but the boy had not fought when he had walked. If Richard knew anything about his pious, proud little nephew, he knew that Edward, the old Prince of Wales, the deposed king of England and his brother, Richard Duke of York would happily, merrily have called their protest in shouting their most noble titltes, and by god they would have been heard. No man in England was able to silently take those boys from their safehold, even he himself had foudn difficulty in taking the boys from their uncle Anthony. NO gag was strong enough, nor chains strong enough. A name came to mind, yet he could not believe it plausable, less so possible.
The court had put the opening of his brothers grave down to grave robbers, which had caused fury in the loyal Yorkist court. Only Lord Hastings had remained silent on the matter. Edward's own chamberlain had remained silent on the matter of Edward's grave having been opened. Richard himself had never belived it could have been grave robbers, at Windsor, it would have been impossible. Yet until now, he had simply thought Hastings had been behind the graves opening, now he was certain. Yet the reason before he had not known, now he had to admit, though it was impossible, for once it could not be improbable. It had to be so, Edward was not dead.
The thought had come so suddenly it had made him laugh, gaining the attention of Anne Neville as she stood next to him. Quickly he smiled, taking he hand in hiw own, reluctant to share his worries with her. Not for the normal reason, the one thing Richard conceded was similar among his Yorkist brothers had been their respect of women, and their independence. Even Edward, a man who had taken it as his right to take a woman simply for her sex and looks had found his respect for women - especially their opinions. Yet impossible it would have been to have thought anything but the strong minded will of women, when your mother was the dowager duchess of York, Cecily Neville herself. The woman was stoic, a lagend among them all, a goddess and a saint and not one man would dare to take it in their stride to argue with the woman. Not even their father had argued with her - or so Richard remembered it to be. The only person to have come close to arguing with the woman Richard called his lady mother had been the strongest and braveest man even now he had eveer known. And Edward had been crushed, splattered and thrown to the floor for it. He had entered the argument the Golden boy of York, the king of England with Gods blessing in his hand and he had left the broken shadow of a man. No Richard did not think Anne incapable of taking on a mans worries, quite the contrary. Richard simply thought himself so lost of sense that he could not share the most impossible conclusion he had drawn in his thirty years.
With a kiss planted on his ladies hand, Richard turned and left, taking the stairs two at a time. Moving too quickly for Anne to follow. He shouted to the stable boy "My horse, damn you ready my horse!" It was minutes before he was on the geldings back and charging through the streets of London, dank and stinking to the tiny crowded streest of East Chepe, racing the beast down cobbles, men at his back torches blazing and swords a ready. He stopped outside the small house, a now familiar little place, the safe house for the Woodville-Hastings campaign, a hosue he had not so much thought of visiting since the day of Hastings death. He held a hand up to the men at arms who stood loyal behind him. Knocking on the door, waiting for the young woman to answer before pushing the door to its full, stopping as he looked around the smoke filled room. For a moment there was nothing, only him and Jane Shore alive to the world, dark eyes followed every inch of the room, about to thank the lady for her time when the movement caught his attention, a sutle move and a shining blade. He had seen the sort on only one man alone. "Brother, I would suggest you drop your blade for it be treason to hold it upon me."
"Treason, I left my throne to my son dear brother, not to you."
"Edward let me explain."
"You betrayed me, worse than George dear Richard for you waitied until none could object, when I swore upon what you thought my deathbed to make you my sons protector, and back you swore to protect him through good and bad and make him king you coupe him th towe and call him illegitimate."
"Edward-"
"Do not." He stepped forward, about to shout, reach out and touch the boy as he ran forward, charging toward his uncle as though he were a mad man. None could stop the disaster before it struck, all reached out to catch the boy, all failing as Richard seized the boys shoulder. "Richard, for the love of god release him, I beg you."
For the first time Richard saw tears form in his brothers eyes, heard the break in his voice and gulped. he almost enjoyed it, for once being the one in power of these two great brothers. The one who could weild the axe without a need. He pulled the dagger from the young princes belt, holding it to his throat. The boy whimpered under his touch, Edward gulped, trying to step forward retreating quickly. "The boy is coming with me Edward, and theres nothing you could do about it. He comes or you die."
"Richard. See sense, what is this?"
"Law my dear brother. Law." No one said another word as Richard guided the boy from the house lifting him onto the horse, taking the reins. it was a moment before with silent approach the Duke of Buckingham dropped from his horse, placing the tip of his sword at the soft of Richard's back.
"Thank you your grace, we are most thankful." The duke seixed the princes reins, taking the child from the horse in one swoop. The boy hit the ground with a thud. Richard shouted for Edward, watching as his brother stoof in the doorway, eyes fixed on the whimpering child.
"Edward! Run!" Richard gulped the words as he ran to his nephews side, looking to his brother with pleading eyes as Buckingham approached, seeing the young duke hit the floor as Edward took him down, setting to a run. He was no fool, all knew it was hopeless to try and save the child. Buckingham returned to the child, knowing it pointless to chase the Yorkist adult. Walking quickly, he rose the sword, taking it without issue into the young princes chest. Richard took a moment as the duke retreated. The king of england was left to cry as the young prince, his own nephew, lay dying in his arms. It was a moment before Edward returned, taking the child in sobs of paternal agony. "I promise Ned, I'll avenge this, if it is the last thing I do."