A Thorn In The Rose: A War Of The Roses TL
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Chapter 18: Mistress of Albion
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 18: Mistress of Albion
June, 1454
June, 1454
Cecily blinked and turned over, her husband was not in the bed with her. She sat up and saw him staring out of the window. “What is it?” She asked.
“I’m thinking.” Richard replied, his back was as straight as an arrow, she could see the tension in his shoulders. She got up and padded over to him, wrapping her arms around him she asked.
“What about?”
“About the great weight that has been put on my shoulders.” Richard answered.
Ah. Cecily thought to herself. Her husband had returned from Dover after a messenger had been sent from London, informing him of the King’s ill health and the news that he was now Lord Protector. He had been sworn in, in front of the Royal Council and Parliament today, in a grand ceremony involving the Archbishops of Canterbury and York and members of the Royal Council. Even the Queen had been there. It was quite the weight to put on one’s shoulders, especially someone such as Richard who never truly rested when he had a job to do.
“How do you feel about it?” She asked. Her husband had wanted to be the King’s chief minister for most of his life, but Cecily imagined he had never quite thought it would come about to this.
“I don’t know.” Richard answered, and she could tell from the way his chest rose and fell that he was telling the truth.
“You could see it as a great honour, or as a great curse.” Cecily said. “An honour in that the Council sees you as worthy of carrying the mantle of government and therefore trusts you to ensure the smooth running of it.”
“And a great curse in that it has now painted a large target on my back where anyone with an issue with the government will try and hold me to account for it. Even if I had nothing to do with the measure that they are unhappy with.” Richard said.
“And of course, Somerset will be more dangerous now than ever.” Cecily pointed out. Her cousin had always had lofty ambitions, and her mother had often told her about how the man’s father had been the same. The difference was Somerset’s father had been highly capable, Somerset? Not so much. And that made him even more dangerous.
Richard sighed, the action causing her arms to rise with his chest. “I know.” He said. “But I can’t act against him just yet.”
“So, you do plan on acting against him?” Cecily asked. She had never been quite sure where her husband stood on the matter. Sometimes like when they had been in Rouen, he had gone on long rants against Somerset and the man’s brother. Accusing them of incompetence and frivolity that could be ill afforded during a war. On other occasions, he had been the perfect gentleman toward the man. And given that she knew her husband hated lying about anything, there must have been some truth toward his latter actions.
“I am.” Richard answered, he turned around then and took her hands in his. “I cannot allow him to remain at large. He is a danger to order and balance. The King wanted to restore order to England, and Somerset will not allow that to happen. He cannot. He has far too many people depending on him. He needs access to Royal Patronage to ensure that happens, which means a much more corrupt government and I cannot allow that.”
“How are you going to ensure he is dealt with?” Cecily asked. She knew how her brother the Earl of Salisbury would deal with Somerset in Richard’s shoes, but Richard was not her brother.
“I will find something anything that can be used to show irregularities with his conduct. Kemp is a stickler for following the rules as is Buckingham. Salisbury and Warwick are already on my side, so once I have found that irregularity, I need only convince Kemp and Buckingham and then he is done for.” Richard answered.
“What about Worcester?” Cecily asked. The Lord High Treasurer was a clever man, if somewhat all over the place.
“Worcester will do whatever keeps him in his position. He is a lazy man that one.” Richard said dismissively.
“Very well.” Cecily replied, she led her husband back to the bed and as they both sat atop it she asked. “Who are you going to be sending to France?” Her husband had insisted on following the King’s policy on securing peace with King Charles, even if he personally disagreed with it.
“Buckingham.” Richard answered immediately.
“Buckingham?” Cecily asked.
“Yes. He is an experienced diplomat who knows how Charles operates. He will be able to say the right words that get us a favourable agreement.” Richard said.
“And what do you consider to be a favourable agreement?” Cecily queried.
“French recognition of our right to Calais and a marriage between the Prince of Wales and a French Princess.” Richard said.
“Do you think Charles will agree to those terms?” Cecily asked.
“If he has any sense in that head of his, he will.” Richard replied. “He cannot keep us out in the dark and hope to deal with his son.”
Cecily nodded in agreement. “And what about our own Edward? You had sought a marriage for him before.” Indeed, at one point her husband had wanted one of Charles’ daughters for their son, though the negotiations had floundered when Normandy had been lost.
“I will wait and see how things go with Charles first, I do not want to simply negotiate two marriages when either one could fail.” Richard said.
“Of course.” Cecily agreed. “And you wouldn’t want the Queen to have a reason to see you in a worse light than she already does.”
Richard laughed at that. “This is very true.”
Cecily moved back on the bed and beckoned her husband toward her. “Now, enough of this discussion, let’s resume what we were doing before.”
Richard grinned at her. “It would be my pleasure.” She laughed as he started kissing her neck, all thoughts of Somerset, the Queen and everything else, forgotten for the time being.
Chapter 19: Sheen
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 19: Sheen
June, 1454
June, 1454
“So, why exactly are you looking to sell this place?” Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick asked.
The man standing opposite him with the large belly and slightly balding complexion was called Thomas Charteris, the man came from an old family and had made a fortune as a merchant, but now wanted to move away from London, why Richard didn’t know. The man smiled. “Because there is no one in my family to inherit this property when I die. My sisters are dead, their children died in France, my brothers died without issue. I have no cousins. I wish for it to go to someone who will make use of it.”
“And you think that will be me?” Richard asked.
“Yes, you are a member of the King’s council, my Lord, and your father and I have known one another for many years.” Charteris answered.
“Very well.” Richard said. “I have had a look at the rooms and at the grounds, they are exactly what I am looking for.” Indeed, there was a lot more room here than there was at Warwick Place, that old manor house that had been in his wife’s family for three centuries. The thing was falling down and needed a lot of repair work. Given his position in the Royal Council it was not a suitable place for him to stay when he was in London.
“Good.” Charteris said. “There are a few things I need to tell you about this place before we agree to a price.”
Curious, Richard nodded and said. “Go on.”
“The Priory that is opposite the manor likes to come and visit on the Holy Days, during such a time I have developed a tradition of feeding them for roughly two days. When that is done, they will say a prayer for me at the Priory. Then there are the Poor Fellows who live two houses down. They usually call on a Friday, you can turn them away if you want, but I find it more convenient to pay them a small fee so that they can keep an eye on the goings on of the street and the one over.” Charteris said.
“You run quite the network then.” Richard said.
“Oh yes, the street over is Northumberland territory, or it used to be. Therefore, it pays to know what they are doing.” Charteris said.
Richard was surprised by that; he had not thought Northumberland could exert that kind of influence here. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the information. “Thank you for letting me know, I shall maintain those traditions.”
Charteris smiled. “Good. Now, let us move onto the price, unless you have other questions?”
Richard shook his head. “No questions.”
“Very well, I am willing to take a flat fee of £230 for the manor.” Charteris said.
Richard kept his surprise to himself, that was much lower than he had been expecting, especially given the manor’s prime location in the City. Still, he would take it. “Done.”
Charteris smiled. “Excellent, I will have my lawyer draw up the contract and have it sent to you. You can take up occupancy next month.”
“Perfect.” Richard replied, smiling. He rose as did Charteris, the two of them shook hands, then Richard left the room and walked out of the manor. It was quiet on the street. There was not a soul present. That didn’t surprise him, it was early in the morning after all. The captain of his household guard appeared then bringing with him Richard’s horse. Richard nodded to the man and then mounted his horse. Once the captain had done the same they rode off.
As they moved through the street and onto the main road, Richard found himself wondering why Northumberland had influence in the street over from where the new manor was. Was it possible that this street dated to the time of Northumberland’s grandfather and his influence with Richard II? It was possible, but Richard would have known if that was the case. He had studied London’s history quite thoroughly as a young man, and this had never come up.
Maybe Charteris was just saying that to show he was a friend of Richard’s father. Though that was another thing, Richard could not remember his father ever mentioning Charteris, at least not directly, though maybe there had been mention of merchants and Richard had not paid attention. He sighed, he really should’ve paid more attention to those sorts of lessons when he had been younger. Now it was too late to ask for them to be given to him again.
As they got onto the road where Warwick Place was he saw a little boy hunched over a fire. The boy looked filthy, and Richard took pity on him, he reached into the bag of coins he kept on his belt and chucked the boy a silver. The boy took it and smiled, which made Richard feel better. He stopped his horse when they got into the Manor’s courtyard. He dismounted and walked into the manor, then walked up the stairs, taking a right at the end of the stairs, before turning left and opening the door.
His wife, Anne, was sat reading a book. Richard looked at her for a moment, she was beautiful, with raven hair and doe eyes. She was the picture of beauty. He cleared his throat and she stopped reading looking up at him she asked. “How did it go?”
“I agreed to buy it.” Richard said.
“That’s excellent news, how much for?” Anne asked.
“£230.” Richard answered.
“Only?” Anne exclaimed.
“Yes.” Richard said. Anne smiled, got up and kissed him. Richard smiled. “What was that for?”
Anne grinned. “Can I not kiss my husband to thank him for doing something for the family?”
Richard laughed, then turned serious. “Oh, you can kiss me.”
Anne started fiddling with his shirt. “I’d like to do more than that though.”
Richard smiled. “As would I.” He bent down and lifted Anne up, causing her to giggle, he then walked out of the room and toward their shared bedchamber. When they got there, he placed her on the bed and said. “Now, let’s see how we can thank one another.”
Why I'm thinking the poor Fellows and the Priory are on Northurberland payroll like Charteris, who get the rest of the money for the manor by Northumberland himself?
Story of the Kingmaker's life isnt it?
Then again he is not the Kingmaker at the moment but the point still stands.
Chapter 20: Buckingham
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 20: Buckingham
August, 1454
August, 1454
Paris was grand, bigger and somewhat cleaner than London, it still held all the old allure that Humphrey had come to associate with it when he had been a young man. Though now as an old man, Humphrey was able and willing to see the blind spots he had ignored before. There were children running around naked, there were whores on almost every street. There were things within the city that would not be tolerated in London. It seemed King Charles ran a loose city, but perhaps that could be to their advantage.
After all, the reality was clear, with the loss of Gascony, any hope that they had had for restoring King Henry’s claim to France had gone. Now they could only play as somewhat equals, but also as hopefuls. They needed France to want peace with them. Which was why Humphrey had been sent, he presumed. He knew how to be diplomatic when he wanted to be. And being a cousin to the King gave him a footing that others may not have had.
He stood up when the door opened. He bowed his head at the figure who walked in. “Your Grace.” Humphrey said.
“Lord Buckingham, please sit down.” Charles, King of France said.
Humphrey sat back down and looked at the King of France. Charles looked frail, his skin was stuck to his body, his eyes looked hollow. He did not look like that defiant conqueror who had entered Paris all those years ago. He looked more like a ghost.
“How have you found your stay in Paris so far?” the King asked.
Humphrey smiled. “Good, it has been a good stay.”
The King smiled. “Good, I am happy to hear that.” A pause and then. “Now, let us get down to discussing why you are here. Gascony has gone, we hold it firmly. Calais remains in your possession and as such, is English.”
“Sire?” Humphrey asked, wondering if he had heard that correctly.
The King laughed. “Oh do not look so concerned, Lord Buckingham. I do not want to play a ruse on you, or your King. I recognise the situation. Calais is highly defended and is impregnable. I do not want to shed more French blood trying to take it. You can keep it.”
Humphrey nodded, that was good, but he also knew that there would be something added onto this. “And what would Your Grace like in return?”
The King smiled, but this time he looked like a fox that had broken into the farm. “Trade to resume between our two Kingdoms. Tariff rate set at 6% not the current twenty and for King Henry to promise not to get involved in a war against France for the next twenty years.”
Humphrey took a breath. The resumption of trade was good, the Duke of York had said he wanted that to be achieved, but the reduction of tariffs to such a low amount was something that might not go over well. But then, he could always argue it would benefit both Kingdoms, after all they were so close to one another, ensuring there was more profit to be made would be a good thing. York would be able to see that surely? The clause not to get involved in a war against France reeked of a triumphalist power, which Humphrey had to admit made sense. France had kicked them out of Gascony after all.
He took a breath and then said. “Six percent for the tariffs and resumption of trade is too low, Sire. King Henry is willing to offer the reduction of tariffs to ten percent.”
“Done.” King Charles said, which surprised Humphrey and immediately made him wonder if the King had some other motive he was hiding.
“As to the war clause, King Henry has proposed that both Kingdoms agree not to go to war with one another for twenty years. Be that solely against one another or in alliance with others.” Humphrey said.
The King of France laughed again. “So, my nephew has learned something then.”
Humphrey said nothing, though internally he bristled at the King’s implication. King Henry was a good man, a kind man, and a far better King than Charles could ever hope to be. A moment passed, and then another, and then the King said. “Very well, I shall agree to those terms.”
Relieved, Humphrey smiled. “That is good to know, Sire.”
“I shall have my chief lawyers draw up the agreement and then we shall both sign them. I trust you have been entrusted with that power.” The King said.
“I have, Sire.” Humphrey replied.
“Good.” The King said. A pause and then. “Now, answer me honestly, how is my nephew doing? I have heard a great many things from sources near and wide.”
Humphrey hesitated here, lying to a King was a crime against God, but telling the King of France that his nephew was currently lying comatose in Westminster was a betrayal, one that Humphrey would never recover from. He took a breath then said. “He is well, Sire, and sends his regards. He regrets not being able to come himself, but matters within England have kept him.”
King Charles smiled again and this time there was no malice within the smile. “Very well, when you see him next, give him my regards also.”
“I will, Sire.” Humphrey replied.
King Charles rose then, prompting Humphrey to stand. He nodded to Humphrey then walked out. Humphrey remained standing for a moment longer and then took a deep breath and sat down. He rubbed at his eyes and knew then that he would need to draft a full and concise letter to York explaining what had happened and why. He would also need to be prepared for either York or Somerset’s wrath upon his return.
Humphrey looked up to the ceiling and mouthed a silent prayer to the Almighty, asking that the King return to sanity before too long. If he didn’t, Humphrey feared what would happen to his beautiful England.
Chapter 21: Ludlow
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Banned
Chapter 21: Ludlow
September, 1454
September, 1454
Edward moved forwards, ignoring his brother’s pleas for them to stop. Ludlow was dark at the best of times, but right now with winter approaching? It was getting terrifyingly dark. Edward didn’t care though, he knew this castle like the back of his hand. Every bit of it. That was what happened when you spent most of your time in an old fortress like this whilst your family spent time in the luxury of Fotheringhay Castle.
Edward had thought they would be sent back to Fotheringhay by Father after he had told them it was for their own good, Fotheringhay was where their father had based himself for the past few years but no. He and Edmund were sent back to Ludlow, and Edward was tasked with ensuring his brother knew everything about the place. Why, Edward didn’t know, but father had asked him to do this, and so he would.
He stopped walking when they got to a portrait. He moved the torch over the portrait and smiled. The figure looking back at him was tall, with dark brown hair and a glower on his face. He turned slightly as he heard his brother come up beside him. “Who is that?” Edmund asked, sounding slightly out of breath. Edward felt a tinge of guilt at that, he was taller than his brother and could walker quicker, and Edmund wasn’t the fittest anyway.
“Roger Mortimer, our great-grandfather.” Edward answered.
“He looks young.” Edmund commented. “How old was he when he died?”
“Twenty-four.” Edward replied. “He died fighting the Irish.”
“Why was he fighting the Irish?” Edmund asked.
“Because they had been causing trouble for King Richard, and as Earl of Ulster and the King’s main representative in Ireland it was his duty to tackle those issues.” Edward answered, remembering his lessons.
“Clearly, he didn’t do very well then if he died.” Edmund said.
Edward laughed. “If you believe one account, sure.”
“And if you don’t?” Edmund asked looking right at him.
Edward grinned. “If you don’t believe that account then you’re paying attention.”
Edward turned and walked away from their great-grandfather’s portrait. He maintained a healthy stride, knowing his brother’s curiosity would get the better of him. As he got about half way to the next portrait which was along this wall, his brother called out. “What do you mean?”
Edward stopped, turned around and smiled at his brother. “What I mean is that Roger Mortimer was a capable warrior, and a smart man. He died in a battle he should have won. That can only mean one thing.”
His smile deepened as he and his brother said the same thing. “He was betrayed.”
“But by who?” Edmund asked.
Edward shone the torch on his brother and saw that Edmund wasn’t panting anymore, instead his eyes were shining brightly, as they were wont to do when he was intrigued by something. That was good as far as Edward was concerned, for it meant his brother was finally overcoming his worries about being far away from their family. “Now that is a very good question. Nobody knows for sure, but there are records in Ludlow that suggest one of his Irish allies betrayed him.”
“Oh?” Edmund replied. “Why would they do that?”
Here, Edward had to remember something that their father had told him once when he had been very young and had asked the man about Ireland. In as serious a voice as he could, he replied. “Because Ireland had always been chaotic and that was the way the Irish liked it. Mortimer was coming close to bringing Ireland under control. That was something nobody, not even those most loyal to the Crown could allow.”
“So, they betrayed him and allowed him to be killed by rebels?” Edmund asked.
“It would seem so.” Edward replied.
“That doesn’t seem very fair.” Edmund said.
Edward nodded. “Indeed not.” He turned around and continued walking. Edmund following him. Edward had to admit, he preferred these sorts of occasions where it was just him and Edmund, together, able to talk and not worry about being proper. When the whole family was together, they had to be on their best behaviour or risk being beaten by their father. Mother usually said nothing, but she frowned a lot when he said something inappropriate. It was frustrating.
He stopped when he got to another portrait. This time the man before them looked like a bit of a worm, with long dark blonde hair, and weak green eyes. “Who is this?” Edmund asked.
“This?” Edward replied. “This is our grandfather, Richard, Earl of Cambridge.”
Edmund gasped. “That’s our grandfather?”
“Indeed it is.” Edward answered.
“He looks nothing like father though!” Edmund said.
“Certainly not in how he holds himself.” Edward agreed, the Earl of Cambridge looked weak, he looked like a man who would faint at the first sign of blood. The complete opposite to how their father was. Perhaps that was why their father never spoke about him.
“Wasn’t he executed?” Edmund asked.
“He was, yes. For conspiring to depose King Henry the Brave.” Edward replied.
“So, why is there a portrait of him?” Edmund asked.
“Because father wanted to honour his memory.” Edward said.
“But he never talks about him. He always talks about mother’s father, but never his own. Isn’t that a bit odd?” Edmund asked.
“Yes.” Edward agreed. “But I suppose speaking about his own father must be quite painful for him, considering how the man died.”
“That’s true.” Edmund said. “So, what do you think?”
“What do you mean?” Edward asked, he turned and saw Edmund looking at him expectantly.
“Which one of us will end up looking like him?” Edmund replied.
Edward laughed. “Neither of us, I hope. I don’t want to look like that.”
Edmund laughed as well. “Same.”
Both of them turned at the sound of footsteps. “Come on, we’d best get out of here before someone finds us.” Edward said, taking his brother’s hand and running along, his brother’s words echoing in his head. He had been honest; he didn’t think either he or Edmund would end up looking that weak.
At first i thaught Nevillewas going to become a new duc d'Orleans, then he arrived unscathed to his old home so i was wrong, but his new home can misteryously be set aflame... Or an assassin can be let in through a back door by staff...
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