Yabbut Clarence is up to something, and his hatchetman has other orders.
The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Yeah, though Edward of Westminster is still alive, so. Also thank you!!!
June 1473.
June 1473. The Tower of London, England.
Methinks truly
Bouden am I,
and that greatly.
To be content;
seeing plainly
Fortune doth wry
All contrary
from mine intent
My life was lent
Me to one intent.
It is nigh spent
Welcome, Fortune!
but I ne went
Thus to be shent
but she it meant;
such is her won
He heard the steps before they arrived at his cell, recognizing the heavy and confident gait of his younger brother, the clanking movement of an armoured man following John deep into the Tower. Anthony removed the tip of his quill from the paper, settling his two arms on the desk before him, but he did not move as the door opened and the two men stepped inside.
“You can leave now,” said John and Anthony imagined him turning to the guard, voice calm and face neutral. “The rest of the money will be yours once I leave here.”
The heavy metal armour cried when the man moved, certainly bowing, or something similar. “Yes, Lord Rivers,” he said in a northern accent and his steps faded away, the door closing with a loud sound.
Anthony didn’t turn to see his brother, but he moved slightly, twisting his neck so he could see John with the corner of his eye. His brother stood by the door, with an expensive blue surcoat and a golden sword hanging by his waist. He narrowed his eyes. John had gained a large amount of money through his marriage to Elizabeth Lambert, but he wouldn’t be able to afford such garments with the dowry that her rich merchant father gave him.
“Lord Rivers?” he repeated. “Am I dead yet, little brother?”
“You’re a convicted traitor, Anthony,” said John, sounding almost exasperated. “The King was kind enough to allow our father’s earldom to remain in the family, though through a new creation.”
“Of course,” he murmured. Anthony pushed his chair back and stood up, turning to look his brother in the eye. John was slightly shorter than him, with blonder hair and large blue eyes from their mother’s family. “Our father would weep for shame if he could see you now.”
“Our father knew what was truly important,” he replied. “The survival of the family and peace for England. It’s why he changed sides.”
“Edward of York killed our father,” said Anthony.
“He did not,” John replied. “Why would he?”
Anthony shrugged. “That is not up to me to decide,” he said. “Only Edward knows and when he makes his peace with our Maker, he will have to come to terms with it.”
“Our father was no important man,” his brother said. “He didn’t oppose the King. There were a hundred others who Edward could’ve had killed and gained more from it.”
“And is that enough for you to believe him?” asked Anthony. “You shame his memory by allying yourself with him and failing to get your revenge.”
“Revenge?” John retorted, arching an eyebrow. “Would you kill the King, so our father’s shade could rest? And after that, what would happen?”
“England would be at peace once more under the Lancastrians,” he responded, but John laughed, shaking his head as if it was all a hilarious jape.
“Do you really believe that?” he asked. “Do you really think the Nevilles, the Talbots and so many others would not rise again in the name of King Edward’s sons? Sons who would grow up planning to avenge their father’s death, dreaming of shooting arrows with your face for a target?” John had a serious expression, mouth tense. “Revenge is a cycle. A wheel. These ones on top then those ones on top, and on and on it spins until the end of times.”
“I shall break the wheel,” he retorted and John arched an eyebrow.
“How?” he asked. “Would you kill the York boys? An eight-year-old? And the other one who hasn’t even been breeched yet?” He chuckled humorlessly. “I suppose you believe the Duke of Bedford’s death to be a blessing, so you won’t have to soil your hands with the blood of a babe in arms.”
“Are these children really worth more than the thousands who will die in oncoming wars?” he asked.
John shook his head. “You are truly lost if you think that,” he said. “Death in the battlefield is an honourable way to go, but to kill a child, rip a babe from his mother’s arms… There is no evil in the world that can equate to it.”
His brother moved slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. John removed his hand from the pommel of his sword, sighing loudly.
“England needs peace,” he said. “Everything else must be set aside. All selfish desires of the heart must be ignored.”
“Selfish desires?” Anthony shouted. “Do you really think your precious York King has anything in his heart but a desire for revenge? To kill Marguerite de Anjou as he believes she killed his father and brother? You will be disappointed in him, soon enough.”
But John only smiled, as if his words didn’t matter at all. “You know nothing, Anthony,” he said. “King Edward wants peace just as much as I do.”
“Really?” he asked. Anthony sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “How does he intend to achieve it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” John said. “You won’t be around to see it.”
The poem at the start is an actual poem written by Anthony Woodville on the day before his execution in 1483. You can read it fully here: http://jadekennedywriter.blogspot.com/2012/06/last-poem-by-anthony-woodville.html
No lol
Anthony is going to be executed, so he won't see the great peaceful England, but John didn't kill him.
If John was going to kill Anthony, I'd have ended the chapter with him removing his sword from his waist
Madeleine really has a point here. Between Margaret of Anjou not exactly being the most popular and her son being almost entirely a foreigner at this point, the people aren’t exactly likely to back him as they ardently backed Henry.