Day of Days - Part III
22nd August 1485
This was intolerable. Blasted Percy was just sitting there! If he had decided to turn against Richard, it was a rather weak way of doing it. The man could doom both Stanley and Richard by riding down into Norfolk’s men, delivering a coup-de-grace on the field, and the crown to Tudor. But he didn’t. He just sat, like a lump of stone in a suit of armour. He was simply prolonging the agony of all, for some reason known only to one Lord Percy. If any Percy’s mind could deduce a reason for half of its owner's actions that is.
The situation on the valley floor was becoming clearer. Norfolk had managed to disengage and stabilise his men. It was testament to the skills of both men that they had stood so long. It was also testament to the fact that nobody else was moving. Somebody had to do something, or Stanley would look like an imbecile. In fact, he would look worse. He would look like Percy. Treacherous, indecisive, and possibly even cowardly.
Then, before his very eyes. Somebody did something.
Tudor and a small retinue began riding away from the main force. To be precise, they appeared to be heading towards Stanley’s own position. As if in answer, a trumpet sounded on the hilltop. Richard’s cavalry streamed down the hill. Only a couple of hundred, it seemed. Whatever had happened up on that hilltop, Richard had obviously despaired of Percy moving, so had decided to seize this battle by the throat. Tudor’s small force turned to face the new threat. Stanley watched, amazed and appalled in equal measure. It was decisive and bold, of that there could be no doubt. At the same time, had one described it as reckless beyond measure, nobody would have disputed.
Stanley had to move. He was sure he had to. Oxford had realised the danger too. Another force of knights left the lines and raced after Tudor. Richard would arrive first. The situation was grim. If he gave the order to move now, he might arrive too late. His chosen lord and master could have won without him. Worse still, he could find that lord dead, and another triumphant. It had to be now. But he had to watch what was happening. How else could he be sure he’d made the right choice?
He looked across to his brother’s own force. That made his mind up. Even William had realised that the time was nigh. He couldn’t be seen to be following his brother’s lead. He gave the order, and they fell into the trot…
*Author's Note: Apologies if you think I'm dragging this battle out, but this is the penultimate part of the battle. The whole thing came to me as the battle from Stanley's view, so this makes up the vast bulk of the TL. I promise, next update will see good old Lord Stanley pin his trousers to the mast.
22nd August 1485
This was intolerable. Blasted Percy was just sitting there! If he had decided to turn against Richard, it was a rather weak way of doing it. The man could doom both Stanley and Richard by riding down into Norfolk’s men, delivering a coup-de-grace on the field, and the crown to Tudor. But he didn’t. He just sat, like a lump of stone in a suit of armour. He was simply prolonging the agony of all, for some reason known only to one Lord Percy. If any Percy’s mind could deduce a reason for half of its owner's actions that is.
The situation on the valley floor was becoming clearer. Norfolk had managed to disengage and stabilise his men. It was testament to the skills of both men that they had stood so long. It was also testament to the fact that nobody else was moving. Somebody had to do something, or Stanley would look like an imbecile. In fact, he would look worse. He would look like Percy. Treacherous, indecisive, and possibly even cowardly.
Then, before his very eyes. Somebody did something.
Tudor and a small retinue began riding away from the main force. To be precise, they appeared to be heading towards Stanley’s own position. As if in answer, a trumpet sounded on the hilltop. Richard’s cavalry streamed down the hill. Only a couple of hundred, it seemed. Whatever had happened up on that hilltop, Richard had obviously despaired of Percy moving, so had decided to seize this battle by the throat. Tudor’s small force turned to face the new threat. Stanley watched, amazed and appalled in equal measure. It was decisive and bold, of that there could be no doubt. At the same time, had one described it as reckless beyond measure, nobody would have disputed.
Stanley had to move. He was sure he had to. Oxford had realised the danger too. Another force of knights left the lines and raced after Tudor. Richard would arrive first. The situation was grim. If he gave the order to move now, he might arrive too late. His chosen lord and master could have won without him. Worse still, he could find that lord dead, and another triumphant. It had to be now. But he had to watch what was happening. How else could he be sure he’d made the right choice?
He looked across to his brother’s own force. That made his mind up. Even William had realised that the time was nigh. He couldn’t be seen to be following his brother’s lead. He gave the order, and they fell into the trot…
*Author's Note: Apologies if you think I'm dragging this battle out, but this is the penultimate part of the battle. The whole thing came to me as the battle from Stanley's view, so this makes up the vast bulk of the TL. I promise, next update will see good old Lord Stanley pin his trousers to the mast.
