(Sort of) a TLIAW: 1485 - Stanley's Dilemma

A TLIAW? Whats that?
A Timeline in a week. Like a TLIAD, but taking into account my ability to procrastinate, hence the seven day time-frame.

TLIAD?
Timeline in a day. The PolitiBrits had a rash of them all over the Post 1900 forum last week and the one before.

Wrong Forum then.
As the title suggests, this is set Pre 1900.

Still wrong forum.
This isn't really a TL as such. There's no discernible PoD, and I'm not going to be going very far at all, so I think it might be more suited here...

Right. It isn't a TL, has no real PoD, and won't be finished in 24 hours. What on earth are you doing it for?
The idea came to me last week, and I thought the TLIAD format would be a good one to force me to commit to the idea.

Commit? You've been a member here for how long?
Too long to still be fretting about writing something.

Oh, I get. You're not sure if you like the way you write. The "over abundance of commas" thing.
Amongst others, yes.

So you're subjecting the good folk of AH to this, so that you aren't too scared when you come up with something better?
Maybe. Bit blunt, but maybe.

And you thought this was a good idea to practice your writing style? The idea somewhat limits your chances of writing scintillating dialogue...
As I said, the idea came to me, so I'll publish and be damned.

Despite the fact it's not really a TLIAD in any sense, you've still done this talking heads beginning? Jumping on the bandwagon much?
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Although I'm not so sure now...

Anyway, who the hell are you? I've never even heard of you.
Look, I'm probably more famous for drinking copious amounts of tea (even by British standards) on here than anything else, but I'm trying to write, so cut me some slack, okay?

Why should I?
Sod it, beginning like this wasn't a good idea. You can naff off, and I'll write the blasted story without you.
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21st August 1485

The first messenger to arrive in the Stanley camp was from Tudor. This despite the fact that the man himself had met the brothers earlier in the day. Yes, they had made no promises, but what did he expect? One doesn't gain a reputation as the finest political gambler in the kingdom by throwing his cards onto the table. The emissary had obviously expected an answer. Sir John Savage, a Stanley man if ever there was, had marched his own forces into Henry's camp earlier in the evening. Surely, it was time to follow his example? Stanley had used this ridiculous statement to his full advantage. Did this imbecile not think that his betters had discussed such things? Tudor knew full well that Lord Strange was a hostage in Richard's camp. Stanley had to be careful about when he made his move. After this stinging rebuke, the fool had never managed to gain the initiative. Lord Thomas had given one evasive answer after another, and could sense the mounting exasperation in Tudor's man. Eventually, the man had been unable to contain himself.

"My master simply wishes to know if you will come."

Very undiplomatic. Rather rude, in fact. Stanley had watched the man attempt to stammer out an explanation, and cut him short,

"Naturally, I shall come."

Credit to the messenger, he may have raised his eyebrows, but he looked shamefaced when he realised, and quickly bit his tongue. That was the end of the meeting, and both parties seemed glad of the fact.
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22nd August 1485

Stanley attempted to clear his mind of thoughts of last night. The past was a foreign land. He could no more change events there than he could in Persia. This day was the important one. This day would decide the fate of all the men on the field, and most likely the country too.

As he watched, the forces on the hill started to move. One of the banners - Norfolk's, judging by the emblems - was starting towards Tudor's men. Norfolk was a good commander, likely better than the untried Tudor. Yesterday had destroyed any thoughts of Tudor's test coming today though. Tudor had let Stanley know that Oxford was commanding 'his' men. Stanley had wondered at that. He was claiming the crown, but wasn't leading his troops. Then again, he was trying to convince Stanley to back him. Backing Oxford was a gamble with much shorter odds than backing a man who had never commanded. Much closer to a Stanley gamble.

Norfolk's men had reached Oxford's lines. The real waiting game began now. Move too soon, and the battle would still be hard. He'd lose too many men. In fact, if he intervened before the time was right, the leader he'd chosen to support could still fall. That would be too terrible to even consider. The problem was, if he waited, he could miss his chance. To show his hand too late would be just as disastrous. He needed to back the winning horse, but it had to be before everybody realised the race was already run. Too late, and he'd look less than supportive, possibly disloyal. Even more damaging would be to stand idle. That would be seen as proof that he was supporting the other party. As he'd said to his brother last night - or was it this morning? To do nothing would be to cause more damage to our prospects than anything short of trying to attack both.

Sir William had rightly said that he was exaggerating, but he had good reason. William had to appreciate the importance of the timing. In fact, both Tudor and Richard could be drawing conclusion - incorrect or otherwise - from this confounded new position William had decided to take up. He was playing with fire. Not to mention his nephew's life.
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22nd August 1485

The morning was dragging on, and Norfolk's men were struggling. At first, the advance had went well, and Oxford had been pushed from the slope. However, the momentum had left Norfolk. Oxford had used all his skill and experience to keep his men together, and they were standing firm. In fact, unless Stanley was mistaken, Norfolk's banner appeared to be edging back. The movement was ever so slight, it was barely perceptible. Nevertheless, it was there.

Stanley dragged his gaze up the hill to where Richard and Percy had their own banners. He had half expected to see Percy move already, even as soon as Norfolk appeared to be struggling. Oxford, obviously thought so too. The small reserve, which he had been reliably informed would be "under Tudor's own command", was moving slightly further back from the main force. Whoever the commander was supposed to be, Oxford was calling the shots. Whether they were making sure they well out of the way, or if they were seeking a position to counter Percy's thrust, he didn't know.

Time went on, and Richard still seemed content to wait. Whatever Stanley and Oxford expected, Percy had not moved. Stanley scoffed at the thought that Richard was waiting for him to move. The time wasn't right for that yet, and Norfolk wouldn't hold his men long enough for that to happen. Percy would have to be sent into the fray shortly. Stanley thought that he should already have been sent down the slope. Oxford definitely had the upper hand now. It was evident even from this distance. God's teeth! What was Richard playing at?

Stanley forced the concern out of his facial features. It wouldn't do to look worried. His troops were not the followers of a man who was unsure, a man that fretted. They knew they leader to be decisive, composed, and above all, a winner. The ruse was getting harder and harder to keep up. What on Earth was going on? At this rate, Richard would be defeated, with two of his three banners not even bothering to engage. Still none of the forces on the hill moved. Confound Richard, confound Percy, confound them all! They sat motionless, while Norfolk and his men bled at the foot of the hill.

Then, Stanley saw something that made his blood run cold. Norfolk's banner wavered. But it did not fall, it still flew, after a moment's doubt. Stanley breathed a sigh of relief. Whether Norfolk still stood under it, he did not know. Riders could be seen going from Richard to Percy, but there was no more activity. For all his lecturing to his brother on the importance of timing, Stanley was at a loss. He had no idea what was going on on that hill. How would he know when to move? Maybe he had already missed his chance?
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