A Thorn In The Rose: A War Of The Roses TL
- Thread starter VVD0D95
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What makes you say that? It does sound like he is in a spot of bother.
Jonathan1997
Banned
It makes a lot of sense I do not think Edmund will give any lancastrians quarter. I would wonder what the psychological effects will be I imagine he will get a lot closer to his wife, children and younger brother's George and Richard. George of Clarence suffered a mental breakdown in the 1470s which contributed to his execution. As for Richard he was always loyal to Edward iV it was the court intrigues and Richard killing the woodvilles which ment Ivor OTL Richard iii or OTL Edward V where going to die.
Deleted member 147978
I suspect two things:
Either. , .
#1 ~ A slimy infantryman found a spot in Edward IV's armor and caught him by surprise via stabbing him in that spot.
#2 ~ Edward heard his Edmund screaming in agony while getting manhandled by Welsh Infantry due to bad luck and fate.
I'll wait see what'll happen in the meantime.
Jonathan1997
Banned
I have to say I enjoy the your writing the most that is between 927 until 1499 would have to be my favourite time period. Do you now any about the Anglo-Saxon kings of England VVD0D95
Jonathan1997
Banned
Just wondering if you have any story's in that time period is seems to be that it would be simpler to write about due to the records but being that many. Because we don't really know much about king athelstan or Edmund Ironside. What we do know was Athelstan was a good warrior King built new churches and engage with diplomacy with the continental monarch and he was celibate for religious reasons. As for Edmund he was betrayed and killed in battle he also defeat canute the Great in battle once before the was betrayed by one of his own Lords.
Chapter 153: Ludlow Crash
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 153: Ludlow Crash
June, 1462
June, 1462
Henry blinked and tried to block out the roar that was coming from the other side of the castle, where battle raged. He thanked God that the fighting hadn’t yet spilled over to his side of the siege. He and his men were getting a chance to prepare and properly equip themselves.
After learning that York was approaching, the army had formed up. Oxford had taken the vanguard and had been on the right of the castle, closest to where they believed that York would come from. Devon had taken the left, an area close to where Henry was now, but far enough away not to draw conclusions.
Henry was with the right, on the far side of the castle, hidden from view and Buckingham was to his left. It was perhaps a coward’s way of organising things. But he wanted to wear York down before going for the push. Something inside him told him that the war would be resolved today. Something would give.
He looked up when a soldier appeared at his side and saluted him. “Your Grace.”
“What news?” Henry barked.
“The vanguard is breaking, Your Grace.” The soldier said. “Lord Oxford is dead, but Lord Devon has brought the left to reinforce them.”
Henry looked at Morgan and cursed. “How did Oxford die?” He asked.
“It seems he engaged in a fight with York and was slain.” The soldier said.
“I see.” Henry remarked. “Dismissed.” The soldier bowed and hurried away.
Henry turned to look at Morgan and Owen Tudor.
Tudor commented first. “We can still win this.”
“I know.” Henry said. They just needed to break York’s vanguard and perhaps his right wing. As far as Henry knew the men commanding York’s left and rear weren’t experienced or that great.
“So, what do you want to do?” Tudor asked.
Henry hesitated. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do. Did he get engaged in the fighting right now, or did he wait and see how the tide turned. Oxford was dead, but clearly his deputy had continued the fight. That was good. But how long could they keep that up. Oxford was reliable. Devon perhaps not so much.
And then there was Buckingham. Henry knew that Buckingham was starting to buckle under the weight of everything. Did Henry really want him in his rear?
There was another option of course. Henry could deploy Tudor and his Welshmen, and harass York’s vanguard and other components. “How ready are your men?” He asked Tudor.
“As ready as they will ever be.” Tudor replied.
“Then go.” Henry commanded. “Take your men and finish off the Yorkist flanks.”
“Your Grace.” Tudor said, Henry watched him turn and move toward his men.
It took Tudor a bit of time to get his men organised, but once they were, they set off in a quickened march and disappeared over the horizon. Henry remained where he was, waiting and praying that he’d made the right choice. If this went wrong, then the King’s cause was done for.
He looked at Morgan and asked him. “What do you think?” Morgan was one of the few people he could ask without true fear of being judged.
“I think you made the right call. Tudor’s men are the right sort for this stage of the battle.” Morgan replied.
Henry grunted and then focused on the things in front of him.
The castle loomed large before him. The garrison’s use of archers had been smart. It had picked off some of the forefront of the battle groups earlier than expected, and had caused a panic when York’s men had smashed into Oxford’s line.
Henry shifted in his saddle and waited.
Jonathan1997
Banned
There could be a Battle of towton where 28,000 men where killed on the battlefield.
Yeah, I have a feeling this will be TTL's Towton, just based off the descriptions being given.
Jonathan1997
Banned
It would be very odd if the York's did not win Henry Vi it not exactly an expiring king. There is nothing stopping a future Edward V of the House of Lancaster retaking the crown than losing it to a king of house York.
Chapter 154: Ludlow Soiree
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 154: Ludlow Soiree
June, 1462
June, 1462
Owen dismounted from his horse. The work that he needed to do would be better served on foot than on horseback. He allowed the animal to remain where it was and silently moved forward. There was a small collection of trees near to where the main thrust of the fighting was happening, and that was where Owen and his group of Welshmen were.
He knew why Somerset had sent them off to fight. They were easily disposable, but they were also agile and quick moving. York and his men wouldn’t sense them, not yet anyway. Owen had not initially liked Somerset. He had thought him a pampered Southerner, with no understanding of life. The past few years had changed that.
Somerset was capable and smart. He was also one of the few Southerners that Owen liked. There were times when Owen wished that Somerset was the man with the claim to the throne. He would make a far better King than the weakling they’d left in Caernarvon. A weakling who couldn’t even fight.
Owen took a breath. He couldn’t let himself think about that now. He glanced to his right, saw Rhys nod at him, indicating their pathway was clear. He pulled his hammer out of its case on his back and moved forward. He said a prayer and then he roared and charged.
There were Yorkists with their backs to them as they came charging out of the clearing. Owen smacked one of them down and then knocked another one out. He stopped to get a sense of what was going on. He could see Oxford’s men fighting York’s men. Oxford was dead, Owen remembered that, but it seemed his brother had continued the fight.
Owen grunted as someone came swinging at him. He raised his hammer up in time to block the blow, but the weight of it made his arms sore. He was not a young man anymore. He shoved the enemy away and smacked him to the side, advancing forward, his men at his side. Another enemy came forth trying to contort in such a manner as to give himself space.
Owen swatted him away with little effort. Bloody Southerners, they were far too idiotic to fight in close quarters like this. This was where brawling came in handy. Owen barked out a command and his men formed up into an arrowhead. They would tackle the Yorkists like this.
With Owen at their head they slowly worked their way through. A hammer here, a hammer there. The Yorkists started to crumble. He could vaguely see a man he presumed to be Oxford’s brother standing by shouting out orders. Owen knew he would need to get near him, but it was far too much fun destroying Yorkists right now.
That fun ended when some cunt knocked his hammer out of his hands. How he did it, Owen didn’t know, but one moment the hammer was safely nestled in his grip, the next it was on the ground and Owen was reeling back from a punch to the face. He blinked, but couldn’t see the perpetrator. The column had moved forward in his absence and so he hurried to join them.
Owen drew a short sword and used it to get in close to the enemy. A few thrusts here and there, but it wasn’t as effective as the hammer. He took far more blows than he gave out. That forced him to move back inward of the column, to wait for the right moment.
As they advanced, Owen could feel his age. His bones ached already, his mind was crying out for rest, but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. He had sworn an oath and he would see it through. After all, what other use would he have? He wasn’t good at politics, and he wasn’t good at farming. He was a born soldier.
Out the corner of his eye he spotted a figure he vaguely recognised. The figure was tall, and built like a bull. It seemed the figure was waging a war all by himself. Owen watched as three or four men came at him and were all felled. He wondered if this could be York. He broke off from the column and advanced toward the figure.
Owen watched what the man was doing and decided there and then that he was too dangerous to allow to live. He saw that the man’s throat was exposed, and so drawing his knife he ventured forth, sneaking up behind the man.
As he got in close, he noticed that the man was slacking. His shoulders were slumping. He didn’t appear quite as strong from up close as he did from far away. Owen waited, and when the man’s knees appeared to be giving way he struck. He moved quickly, one slash, and then another.
Blood spurted out. He stepped back and whispered. “God Save the King.” Then he moved back into the fray.