To celebrate Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II's Platinum Jubilee Discovering Diamonds is hosting a series of excerpts or articles written by our wonderful review team. For our author reviewers: the theme is an excerpt from one of their novels portraying royalty - or an equivalent leader-type character. For our non-writer reviewers: a favourite monarch and/or novel about Royalty... In other words, an enjoyable mix of entertainment to acknowledge Queen Elizabeth II's longest reign in British history! 70 years!
God Bless you Ma'am.
(say ma'am to rhyme with 'jam' not 'farm')
'He is a fine young man,' Duke Manuel observed.
'He is indeed,' Elizabeth replied, turning to her husband with a smile. 'I am proud of the way my little brother has turned out.'
The object of their scrutiny stood, panting from recent exertion and leaning on his sword, in the courtyard below the balcony on which they stood. He was a handsome youth of twenty summers. Blond hair, dark-soaked with sweat, tumbled to his shoulders, the long fringe sticking to his damp skin. A wispy moustache clung to his upper lip, but his chin was clean shaven and beardless.
The young man's upper torso was bare, displaying an almost hairless chest and finely toned abdominal muscles. As a result of his physical efforts, veins stood out like rivers on his biceps and powerful forearms. He was tall, too. Already he topped six feet, towering over both his sister Elizabeth and their younger brother, Richard. Elizabeth was of the opinion that Edward had not yet stopped growing.
Nearly six years of residence in one of Portugal's hottest regions had bronzed Edward's erstwhile pale skin and now it gleamed in the harsh sunlight.
With a cry, Alfonso, Edward's tutor in all things military, launched a sudden attack. Edward grasped his sword with both hands and fended off the intended blow.
'Unfair!' he yelled in Portuguese, but there was laughter in his voice.
'Nothing is fair in a sword fight, boy,' Alfonso retorted with a growl. 'Always be aware. Be forever on your guard. How many times must I tell you this?'
Although he would not say in words, Alfonso was impressed with his young charge. He had taken the shy and nervous young boy and moulded him into a skilled fighter, tutoring him in the knightly arts – resulting in the lad becoming a good shot at archery, a gifted rider, and more than able to hold his own with a sword, dagger, or other weapon. Grizzled old warrior that he was, Alfonso knew that Edward could now best him six or seven times out of ten. And Edward enjoyed the hunt as well, where he was adept at showing stealth and cunning, an eye for what was around him, natural features of landscape, terrain or woodland. Or suspicious defects. Possible ambush? De fato, Alfonso was pleased with his pupil.
The couple on the balcony, unseen to the swordsmen, watched with interest as the two thrust and counter thrust, parried and danced with intricate steps and patterns. The balance of their bodies and weapons, impeccable.
'Where is our visitor now?' Manuel asked his wife, encircling his arm around her slender waist.
'He rests,' she informed him, moving in closer to enjoy her husband's embrace. 'A long sea voyage together with two more days overland has tired him, and he tells me he is not a good traveller.' She laughed. 'I did not know him well, but I do recall he did not enjoy traversing the country with my uncle!'
'Tell me what you do know of the man,' Manuel mused, stroking his long, thin beard. Both that and his long, curly hair which this day he wore tied at the nape of his neck, were so dark that the afternoon sunlight gave off a blue sheen, like the feathers of a raven.
Elizabeth gathered her thoughts.
'He was Uncle Richard's best friend,' she began. 'They grew up together at Middleham. Remember: my uncle was an insular man who made few friends and many enemies. But he and Francis РLord Lovell Рwere at times almost inseparable. Lovell was his greatest supporter when Richard became King. Ever loyal to him. Loyault̩ Me Lie could just as well have been his motto had not Richard already taken it.'
She paused for a moment. 'Richard made him his Lord Chamberlain, a position he still holds. Francis was by Richard's side at Redemore Plain where they met Tydder in battle.'
'That was a fine victory, I believe,' Manuel said, but Elizabeth shook her head.
'No. It was not. Men – good men – from both sides perished. Richard himself was almost killed and though his wounds were grievous, he survived. God be praised.” She crossed herself, her husband echoing the gesture, then continued, “Tydder fled, saving his own miserable skin and abandoning his army and all those who supported him.' Elizabeth shivered as a memory slid like melting ice through her mind. 'Had he prevailed, I was promised to him. Did you know that, my love?'
Manuel nodded. 'I had heard it so,' he confirmed. 'Did you ever meet him, my sweetheart?'
Elizabeth shook her head. 'Thank God, no. An odious, miserly toad, I was told. No claim at all to the throne. Put up to it by Margaret Beaufort, his mother.'
'What became of him?' Manuel asked, absently brushing a strand of hair, fidgeted by the wind, from his eyes.
'Tydder? He fled to France where he hides in shame to this day, licking his wounds.'
'To fight another day?' Manuel observed, pointedly.
Elizabeth shrugged. 'Uncle Richard mauled him badly. I doubt they will see his cowardly face in England again.'
* * *
'Lord Lovell! Welcome! Please, do be seated.'
The man who stood before them was tall and thin. A nervous tic at the corner of one eye betrayed the apparent calm manner. He was well dressed in clothes that suggested modest opulence. Francis, Lord Lovell, Lord Chamberlain of England, carefully regarded each person in turn. Manuel, the man who had addressed him, was unknown to him, but he acknowledged the Portuguese Duke with a short, polite bow. Elizabeth had smiled at him, a sentiment he eagerly returned, and then took his attention to the two young men.
Edward had a curious frown to his face, trying to remember this Englishman whom he had met before, but had little memory of. Richard, the younger of the two, merely stared, his blank expression unreadable.
Francis returned his attention to Manuel. 'I am grateful for your hospitality, Your Grace. My Lady Elizabeth, I am delighted to see you after so many years. I bring greetings from your uncle. And you boys! Well, I see you are both men now. I also see that you remember me not? That is unimportant for you were both young when last we met. I bring greetings to you both from your uncle, Richard. But I also bring news and I am afraid to say that it is not good.'
The Duke indicated chairs, invited everyone to sit, clicked his fingers for servants to pour wine. Lovell sat, nursing a filled goblet, was silent a while, collecting his thoughts. The words of the speech he had rehearsed to himself many times on the journey here, now evaded him. He took the opportunity to gaze at his companions. Duke Manuel passive but inquisitive, blonde haired Elizabeth, anxiously clutching her hands together. Edward, head cocked to one side, puzzled but patiently waiting. And Richard, so different from his brother in physique, his elbow propped on the chair arm, his slender hand cradling chin and cheek.
'What is this news, Lord Lovell?' There was authority in Edward's voice as he eventually asked the inevitable question. An authority which Francis did not fail to notice.
'King Richard desires your return to your homeland of England as a matter of urgency. Not you, of course, my Lady, although your presence would be most welcome.' Lovell paused and took a deep breath, released it slowly. 'Your uncle is dying,' he said suddenly and with more bluntness than he intended. 'I – I am sorry. I did not intend to state the news quite so brutally.'
'Take your time, Francis,' Elizabeth encouraged, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lovell nodded. Collected his thoughts. 'As you know, King Richard suffered greatly from his wounds following Redemore. There were occasions when he could barely continue even minor daily routines, but he did so. Bravely. In truth, he set about the task of running the country with great energy and resolve. Those who opposed him were reduced in status or banished, but he did not resort to the axe. Not once. But just lately it has all become too much for him. He has taken to his bed. The physician's bleed him regularly but he knows he is dying.' Lovell paused and he struggled to prevent a tear escaping from his eye. Visions of his beloved friend in healthier days invaded his thoughts.
'As you know, he did not remarry following the death of his beloved Lady Anne. He has no heir. Nor does he wish for war – squabbling between men who favour the fit of a crown. He asked, no, commanded, me to seek you, Prince Edward, as he desires to name you as his heir.'
Elizabeth gasped. Edward narrowed his eyes.
'I – I did not think he could do that?' Elizabeth broke the silence. 'Was there not a law? One he drew up and Parliament passed?'
'Titulus Regius,' Lovell confirmed. Sighed. 'You must understand, he believed the story Stillington told him. Yet, he did have his doubts. He agonised for days over what he should do, but eventually realised that he had no choice: you were too young, Edward, do you see? Tydder was already raising an army and your life,' Francis looked at the two lads, Elizabeth, 'indeed all of your lives, were in danger. He was afraid of assassins, you understand? The country had been embroiled in war for decades and he could not subject you to the pressure that a continuance would bring. There had been peace during your father's reign, but Richard's accession was, shall we say, controversial? That is why he arranged for you, Elizabeth, to be married to Duke Manuel, and you two boys to be smuggled from England as part of the entourage. The alliance with Portugal he considered to be no bad thing, as has subsequently been proven aright. Richard saw no reason to announce your – er – disappearance to Parliament as he felt it may endanger you further. When Tydder began spreading rumours that Richard had murdered you boys, he still declined to declare what had become of you. For the best of intentions, but with behindsight it was a mistake, and many of us have told him so. For many a year he stubbornly refused to discuss the matter further.'
'Nevertheless,' young Richard put in, 'the Act stands. So how can my brother be named as heir?'
'Parliament will revoke it,' Lovell stated, with a small, almost indifferent shrug.
'How can this be?' Manuel interrupted, his brow creasing into furrows.
'King Richard has drawn up a document,' Lovell explained. 'It will be presented to Parliament and will be passed. Titulus Regius will no longer exist. And Edward, you will be crowned King Edward, fifth of that name.'
'How long does the king have?' Elizabeth asked in a low, regretful, tone.
Lovell turned in his chair to face her. 'These things are never certain, my Lady,' he said in a low voice, as if to speak the words with volume would conjure them true. 'He may already be dead. Or it may be days or weeks, but not, I fear, months.'
A reflective silence spread throughout the room, reaching to the open windows, seemingly darkening the sapphire blue skies and the hot, golden sunshine beyond.
Edward turned to Richard. Smiled. Clapped him on the shoulder. 'It looks like we are going home, brother!'
* * *
He looked older than his thirty and seven years. Pale and weak, dark rings circled his eyes and there were deep furrows of worry creasing his brows. The cheeks were hollow and his jaw line more defined than Elizabeth remembered. The stern countenance was still present, but his smile when the small party entered his chamber, was genuine and friendly.
'My dear nephews! And my beautiful niece,' he managed with effort. The northern accent she remembered had not changed. 'Is thy husband, the Duke, with you my dear?'
The hand she grasped and knelt to kiss was covered in liver spots and was weak in her grip.
'Alas, not,' she replied, rising to her feet from her deep courtesy, 'but he sends his greetings and wishes for your recovery.'
Richard Plantagenet, King of England by the Grace of God, managed a rasping laugh. 'I fear his good wishes are in vain, but I thank him for them. You are happy in your marriage?'
'Very happy, Uncle. Manuel is a good man and I love him dearly.'
Richard nodded. 'I chose well, then?'
'Indeed.'
'And the boys! By Saint Paul, look at you now! Lovell: help me to sit up so I may see better!'
'We do not wish to tire you, Uncle,' Edward sounded concerned as Lovell assisted Richard.
'Mind my back, Francis: it pains me much today.' To Edward: 'Tire me, dear nephew? Ha! I will soon be in the deepest sleep of all. Tiring me is of no consequence now, believe me.' He winced as he tried to make himself comfortable. 'You knew I have this affliction?' he asked to the room in general. 'Since I was a lad, I have suffered with this back. Tydder would have it that I am a monster, with a full hump, but 'tis little more than a twist of the spine. In truth, it does cause me pain on occasion, though.'
He was silent for a moment. Then: 'Edward. Richard – may I call you Dickon? Come closer, let me see you the better.'
Elizabeth made way for the boys to stand by the bedside. There was a frisson of tension in the air, dispelled when Edward bent to kiss his uncle's hand. Hesitantly, young Richard followed his brother’s example.
'Oh, how you have both grown!' the king enthused. 'I can barely believe what I am seeing. Two men – handsome men at that!'
'Uncle, I – ' Edward began, but the king waved him to silence.
'Say nothing until I have spoken,' he warned. Paused. 'I feel I wronged you both,' he began tentatively. 'I believed the story I was told. In truth, I still do.' He managed a wan smile. 'Your father was... promiscuous... in his younger days.' A sigh. 'What I did, I felt was for the best. I was appointed Protector, and there were enemies and danger all around. You were both so young and vulnerable. The country was in turmoil. I was in a position unfamiliar to me. One that I did not ask for. One that was unexpected and for which I was ill prepared.' A grimace crossed his face, an expression that suggested both physical and mental pain.
'But that is as may be. The realm is at peace and has been so for five years. Now, I intend to make amends.'
Richard gestured towards the watered wine beside the bed, drank a few mouthfuls as Francis held the goblet to his parched lips. Nodded his thanks, continued. 'The act that I had made has been revoked. My secretary has drawn up my will and you, Edward, are named as my heir. The kingdom you deserve will soon be yours. I have tried to rule well and, and I trust you will find your kingdom in good order when I am gone.'
'I am grateful, uncle,' Edward whispered, moved to his very soul. 'I – we – bear you no ill will in this. The past is past and well forgotten.'
If this short speech had been rehearsed, it was delivered with sincerity.
The king closed his eyes, smiled. 'Leave me now,' he said. 'We will talk further tomorrow when, perhaps, I will feel stronger.'
But tomorrow did not come. Nor the tomorrow after that. On the third day of October, in the year of our Lord 1490, King Richard, third of that name, passed into God’s care in peace, taken in his sleep. The bells of church and cathedral throughout the land tolled their dolorous tones, and a nation from noblest born to lowest servant mourned.
Parliament declared their duty, that King Richard’s nephew was named as heir.
Accepted as King, but as yet uncrowned, Edward oversaw the organisation of his uncle's funeral at Westminster Abbey, where he was laid to rest beside his beloved wife, Anne.
In that same holy place, where kings had been crowned from the time before the Conquest, when Harold Godwinson had been legitimately anointed as King, Richard of York’s nephew, accompanied by his brother, surviving sisters and their mother, the Dowager Queen, who for so long had enjoyed her retirement from public life at Bermondsey Abbey, was crowned Edward V, King of England.
By the Grace of God, who sees all as it should be.
***
Story originally appeared in the anthology
The Road Not Travelled: Alternative Tales of the Wars of the Roses
by various authors
About the author:
Richard was a voracious reader.
Read his article Through A Reviewer's Eyes HERE
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Lovely. I miss Richard and our "Ricardian" chats very much. It was wonderful to read his work today.
ReplyDeleteThat is just brilliant - beautifully written and so cleverly constructed. We really miss Richard, his humour and his prose.
ReplyDelete