A beheading in a skiff floating in the Channel that requires balance and skill for a swordsman.
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Pole‘s head feeds the fishes, instead of festooning a pole, but the end is the same. A tragic but inevitable descent.
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I nominated you and your sibling The Creek Do Rise to be Featured AAR of the Week. So please no sibling fighting.
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To all - I actually have the first scene of chapter 3 written but I'm still mulling it and the rest of the chapter over so it'll be a bit before I post it. But thank you to all for reading and giving comment. This has been a lot more difficult to write than I suspected but I am enjoying it.
I don't think they were worried too much about it being done well just as long as it was done. And it WAS done exactly like that IRL.
I felt I had to give Suffolk his due time in the story early on because he was so integral to the start of the whole thing. Tragic, yes. And indeed inevitable. Hey pal...don't lose France! That might have saved him.
Well thank you very much!
To all - I actually have the first scene of chapter 3 written but I'm still mulling it and the rest of the chapter over so it'll be a bit before I post it. But thank you to all for reading and giving comment. This has been a lot more difficult to write than I suspected but I am enjoying it.
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A sticky end for Mr Pole. Better or worse than being made to walk the plank? Makes no difference for Jackanapes of course…
Suffolk being captured and killed is of course a massive blow to the court party. And we’re only a few short years away before things should really start to heat up. Time and options running out for Henry? Certainly seems so…
Suffolk being captured and killed is of course a massive blow to the court party. And we’re only a few short years away before things should really start to heat up. Time and options running out for Henry? Certainly seems so…
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Sticky indeed. In these times, if the folks at the upper end don't handle things, then those at the lower end will take matters into their own hands. It is often not pretty.
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Chapter 3: The Time of Choosing
Chapter 3: The Time of Choosing
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Kent, May 1450
* * *
Kent, May 1450
It had thus far been a Whitsun like most others and the festival had been a nice diversion from some of the dread that seemed to sit over the people of Kent like a dark cloud. Allen Leighson leaned to an ale cart and tasted the wares with a slim smile. His cheeks were growing warmer and he was looking forward to a summer in which he might make some decent coin. Soldiers were still returning from France, but with them came the tide of French pirates. The men of Kent were less than thrilled with this but it bothered Allen little.
There was some fear that William Crowmer, the Sheriff of Kent, might try to stifle the celebration such was his and others anger over the death of the Duke of Suffolk. The news had traveled quickly throughout the land when the body of the late Duke was found to the beaches of Dover. Men such as Crowmer and Lord Say, the Treasurer of England were convinced, it seemed, that Kent had been responsible for the atrocity, but Allen found it difficult to see that. Tensions ran high, but Kentishmen remained loyal to the crown in every way.
That was before this day. Allen nearly felt a chill to his bones as he saw a crush of men burst into the already sizable crowd. Were they Crowmer’s? Or some other? His answer came soon enough when he spied John Cade lead yet another line of men into the crowd. As he looked at them, they were not peasants either. Not merely merchantmen. They seemed better dressed and he even recognized one as an older knight returned from France. He tried to remember...had that man fought with his father?
Cade spied his friend and took strong steps to great him, “Leighson, my own pal, tis good to see you here!”
“What you up to this day, Jack?” Allen squinted through the sun.
The younger man offered a wicked smile with his answer, “You’ll see.”
A cart was drawn up to the center of the field and John Cade was quick to jump up and hold his hands high, “Good men of Kent! You do honor our land by showing to this place this day! And I see so many of you that I do know. And you do know me, do you not?!”
Many did as they shouted in the affirmative and it was then that Allen noticed how many of these new men were armed with axes, poles and other arms. Cade laughed and continued, “It fills my heart with good cheer that you men be not afraid of the wrath of a woman, for it is clear to us all that this Lady of France...this considered Queen has wishes and the means to avenge the death of her lover!”
Jeers followed from the crowd as several shouted, “No regrets to Suffolk!!!”
“For you do know...” Cade continued, “...that if we do not act in our favor, she will see our very homes razed to the ground! This will go for all good men of Kent...every peasant and farmer, from top to bottom, sirs!!”
“Never!!” more shouts were heard.
John Cade raised a pamphlet in his right hand, “You all do know that I have published this writing! I have made many copies for all to read for I do know you all to be learned and informed. Over all, you be practical men that know to protect your hearth and home! In this writing, I give to all that is wrong in this land. The alienation of Crown lands! The financial state of the realm and the bribery that runs rampant between these men of the so-called court party! There is corruption in the appointment of our local government officials and a perversion of justice by His Grace’s royal favorites! And we be might ill served by the rigging of our good Parliament such that we have no representation at all!”
Boos and hisses sounded as Cade continued, “This is all corruption by the men that serve our King and worst of all, it is these men that have lost us our lands to France and worse still invite piracy upon our coasts! You above all know this as it is seen near daily! And they do all this as they slight the good Lord of York who sits to the sideline in Ireland. We do know his disfavor of these men of the court faction and we stand with him on this day!”
“A York, A York!!” several shouted and Cade gave a large nod of his head.
“Instead, we are given to us what is left of Suffolk’s government...his toadies! Crowmer who would see us all hanged! The wicked Lord Say! The Queen’s own Chancellor, William Booth. Other terrible men instead of a good Lord as York has proven! And so, if we are not to find our representation by his lights, we shall have to make our own demands!”
“What shall we do, Jack?!” a man near the front shouted and Cade held up his hand once more.
“I will tell you how we redress these wrongs and amend our poor government,” he followed, “We shall demand that the King resume all the lands he hath given away! He must dismiss these ill men of Suffolk’s affinity from Council and call home the Duke of York to take his rightful place! The King needs must order a sweeping reform of the judicial system so that men as Crowmer may have no effect to us as well as lift wage restraints that hold us all low! There must be curbs upon government spending and an inquiry into whether the loss of lands in France were the result of treason! We do suspect Suffolk, but who else must be held to account?! And while we make demands, we must press the King to bring the murderers of Good Duke Humphrey to justice for we know that Gloucester’s death was no accident! It be foul in every way and brought forth surely by these ill men, all of them!”
Many cheered at this list of demands and some even began to chant, “John Amend-All!!”
“It is not I that shall make amends,” Cade returned the chant, “For it is all of you that will cause it! We shall mark this day and begin our march to London, good sirs! It is said that the King and his court rest to Leicester while the ill Parliament is in session, but he must needs return to deal with us! We shall force it!!”
“Huzzah!!” many shouted and Cade responded with his own cry of the same. Then he stepped down and began to point towards London as he met Allen’s eyes. The older man had not been swayed, but John Cade pressed, “Now do you see, Leighson?”
“You would push me to fight, when I hold a coward’s heart?” Allen asked plainly.
Cade flashed a grin, “We do not fight, sir. We will make our demands with strength and the King will have little choice but to grant them.”
“I fear you to be a fool, Jack,” Allen responded but took down the rest of his ale, “Yet I will go with. I shall see for mine own eyes.”
Cade put his arm around his friend as they walked, “You’ll see, mate. As we march, others will follow. And if not...I have another idea.”
Allen Leighson remained unsure but gave a tepid nod, “You always do, Jack...you always do.”
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Well, god love them for trying. I fear this rebellion is going to be about as successful as it was in our world, but anything to stab a fork or two in the side of the royal carcass. Let’s just hope that nice Allen fellow doesn’t get too badly embroiled in things !
Jack Cade publishing pamphlets 25-odd years before Caxton? Do his powers never cease?
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Very sad. They always do these things on the basis that Evil Councillors are to blame, the King is their friend and will heed the pleas of their disgruntled but loyal subjects. It almost always ends in ruthless suppression, whether deliberate or from apathy and inaction from the monarch. It was still happening in 1905, when Tsar Nicholas’ Bloody Sunday occurred after his reckless indifference saw the same thing happen.
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To all - I'm moving slowly through this period because a lot happens in little time and I want to put focus on several players. We're still very close to OTL but these events are fascinating and I want to write about how each might look at them. The next scene carries on with that and one I wrote a week plus ago. It sort of got out of control (and I won't deny that some of my own life events colored how it goes) but I was proud of it when done. So I shall let it stand.
Thanks to all for reading and giving comment.
He apparently did release a manifesto. I didn't say he had them mass printed. Just that he'd produced copies for others to read. Must have taken quite some time to write them out each time.Well, god love them for trying. I fear this rebellion is going to be about as successful as it was in our world, but anything to stab a fork or two in the side of the royal carcass. Let’s just hope that nice Allen fellow doesn’t get too badly embroiled in things !
Jack Cade publishing pamphlets 25-odd years before Caxton? Do his powers never cease?
I think that is because they don't want to appear treasonous. Just loyal subjects, as you suggest, that wish better government. And they're not wrong. But you are right, it never really turns out well. For either party, frankly.
To all - I'm moving slowly through this period because a lot happens in little time and I want to put focus on several players. We're still very close to OTL but these events are fascinating and I want to write about how each might look at them. The next scene carries on with that and one I wrote a week plus ago. It sort of got out of control (and I won't deny that some of my own life events colored how it goes) but I was proud of it when done. So I shall let it stand.
Thanks to all for reading and giving comment.
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Leicester, May 1450
Pierre de Brézé knocked gently to the private door to her chamber. It was late, but he knew that the Queen would be awake. She should not be for she had seemed to cry for days. Margaret ought to be exhausted. But it was her vigil and he was ever her servant. As he entered, she was indeed still in tears. Small whimpers rather than great heaving cries, but it was clear that her face was colored red by her sobbing and there seemed to be no relief.
“Madam?” he asked softly and she could not turn her head. Would not. Too proud and yet, even without looking at him she lifted from her settle and moved into his arms.
As she buried her face into his shoulder, he asked softly once more, “Madam? What may I provide for you?”
“There is no thing!” Margaret answered between sobs, “He is gone! As if mine own father has died...and so cruelly defiled! What animals are these? What terrible creatures...not a soul to be found from them...when he was to return!!”
Margaret remained young and beautiful and it was not as if Pierre had never considered her as a paramour, but even though it was rumored, he had never once placed an indecent hand to her. And yet now, at this moment, when she looked so weak and so pitiful...so in need of comfort...so very sad...he gently lifted her chin to him to look her in the eyes. Small, bright even if dulled from the tears and appearing as if to long...for something...he very nearly kissed her. His head moved closer but something within stopped himself and he merely whispered, “You will be well, ma belle. I do promise.”
She crumbled to his chest once more and beat a soft hand to his breast, “I think never to be well again. I am too poor and so much is taken from me. I shall be bereft to all of my life.”
“You shall not,” Pierre answered as he held her close, “You will always be strong and this strength will carry you forward. I know it all too well.”
A knock to the chamber door pulled him from his caring and he looked with worried eyes as a page announced the King. Knowing his presence would be ill received, he could only offer a slight bow as he looked with loving eyes, “Your lord husband is to see you, madam. I shall never be far away.”
He was gone from the chamber by the time Henry entered and the King was in no ways aware. Henry looked to his wife and sighed. He took two steps and then sighed once more, “My dearest love...I am sorry. Yet I have worse things to tell than that and it grieves me to bring it to your ears.”
Margaret looked to the private door for a moment but as she messily brushed away her tears, she finally turned to the King with sadness, “You would bring to me more torment?”
“I’ve just been with Council...” Henry took another tepid step towards her, “...and they tell me...there is rebellion to Kent.”
She turned an odd eye to her husband and suddenly her face was changed. Margaret stood taller and felt her back return to her dainty frame. What once was great sorrow turned into determination and the Queen took a firm step to Henry, “It would be them...him! They that so rudely cut him down! Your cousin of York whips them into a frenzy and they now come for you!!”
Henry appeared confused, “My dearest...Richard is to Ireland still. He has no thing to do with this. It is a man named Cade, I am told. Has called on all manner of yeoman and they rise to make demands…as they always do...”
“Demands of a King?!” Margaret swiftly moved even closer, “How dare they? Who is it they think that they are? Noblemen? Peers to the Lords...spiritual or temporal? They are but mere merchants...peasants even! And when we have done all we might to protect them...provide succor to them in these harsh times!”
“The list of demands...are vast,” Henry answered as if not hearing his wife, “And I think to meet with them. To hear them out, at the least.”
Margaret placed a firm finger to the King’s chest as she spoke in clipped words, “You...will...do...no...such...thing!”
He looked to her with pleading eyes, “I am not an unkind sovereign.”
“Then...you are a foolish one!” Margaret answered firmly as she turned away from Henry, “You would spite one fish for another! The ones that clearly wish to take the bite...the sustenance...you would abhor. And the ones that wish no part of you...you would progress round the country in all manners to make them happy...peaceful!”
“Is that not what we wish?” Henry stood taller, “All happy families and all within themselves and ourselves?”
“No!!” Margaret turned on him in a fury, “Have you no sense of what I have told to you? Have you no idea that your place is threatened and your crown belongs not to you! Have you no love for me that you would not fight for your lady wife...your dearest love, as you call it...when all they do is bay for mine own blood? The same blood as may be spilt from our dearest Suffolk? The same jackals that will feast upon any and all if only they may get their next meal?!”
“I...” Henry was duly chastened, “...will of course...field the army. Lead them even. The sight of their King, I am told, will bring them round right well. They needs must only see me and then they shall be pleased and happy. That they are to be listened to...heard...respected.”
She suddenly softened and went to brush at his chest, “You are not a fool, my Harry. You are my King. My love. My husband. But you must know that they will never be pleased...never be happy. They wish you not and pray for another...”
“I think you to be cruel to me,” Henry pulled away.
The King moved to the slight window before turning back to her, “I think you to distrust...and regret your place. To see me with no other thought than I am a means...and not an end. A fine chalice tossed away when you have finished your drink...when having nourished what ever may be to your soul. Mayhap even a Godless woman!”
“And yet a woman still!” she continued the argument, “And no more for it! For what place do I have? Nothing but a piece of meat...a thing to trade...and from a landless father that loves me not and never will!”
Henry calmed slightly, “Your cousin Louis does love you...”
“And trades me still!” Margaret allowed all of her anguish to burst forth as she beat to her own chest, “I am to be blamed for the loss of France...for all that has gone wrong to your life...to their lives! These peoples to England...so very ungrateful that I have arrived and try my best to treat them with all of my love! That I try to save for you...for them! That I try to help them...and you...and all else with this festering trouble with Burgundy! That I try to have a child...an heir...with you...and bring them the very peace and stability that they say that they wish and desire and yet all they desire is chaos...distrust...EVIL!”
“You are beside yourself...” Henry tried to calm her but she would not have it.
Margaret stood right to his face and screamed, “I am no place but to here with no child...no father...and no husband!!!”
“I cannot speak to you,” Henry answered her as he backed away, “I cannot hear these words when you are in such a place. You forget yourself and I have no way to please you.”
She felt the tears return, “You may please me...when you should hear me, husband.”
Henry waved a hand as he backed further from the room, “I have heard all I needs must. You remain to grief and I can do no other. So I shall lead these forces and meet with these rebels...”
“Who will continue to come for you,” Margaret answered with a defeated sadness.
The King reached the door and looked once more to his wife, “They will speak and I will listen. And then I shall tell them my answer. Is that not what a good sovereign should do? My father did so...and so on before him...and then they will listen.”
“Henry!” Margaret was nearly back to full sobs, “I beg of you! You must not be weak in this! You must be strong!”
King Henry heard her words and stood silent for a time as he held to the door. He offered a slim nod and then closed it upon her without hearing any more.
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Margaret’s dismissal of the popular demands is of course abhorrent for all sorts of reasons, but frankly I don’t wonder if it’s something of a blunder as well. Blind loyalty is one thing, but if Henry really had the people behind him that would not be such an insignificant help against enemies closer to home.
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Why did Henry not take York's head on general principle? York had to be in cabinet or dead not in Ireland.
Margaret is a bit one-eyed in this matter (as is her won’t): all steely-eyed about the rebellious peasants, but dissolving into over-indulgent tears about Suffolk for an unseemly long time. The pair of them is a dangerous combination: a dithering weather vane with good intentions v great determination but a bit of a political tin ear. And neither with good judgement. Already in the hand basket and slipping towards Hell ...
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To all - I'm still working on the next scene so it may hit tonight or maybe later this weekend. As stated, the above scene was colored by some of the arguments I've had with my own ladies over the years. Round robin and back and forth. And ultimately, no conclusion and likely made things worse. They do say, write what you know. Yet, I've also tried to write Margarete as closely to her historical self as possible. The woman apparently could move between righteous fury and full self pity within a moment's notice, as I understand from the research. Henry is a bit more of an enigma and so I feel I can be a bit more free with his personality. The above just seems like something he would do.
Thanks to all for reading and for giving comment. I always love to see more.
Of course, it's a blunder. The one thing one learns as they read about this period is that the person that controls London has a good shot at controlling the crown. You need the people for that, no matter how much gold or soldiers you may have.
Yes, it's the 15th century and indeed, many a person went to the headsman on trumped up charges...but thank God England had laws and those laws were generally respected (even if many tried to circumvent them.) York had done nothing (yet) to be beheaded. Thus Ireland to keep him from Council. Safely away, or so many thought.
Thank you for this comment. I've hit exactly the mark I wanted! It seemed a good match, and then...
To all - I'm still working on the next scene so it may hit tonight or maybe later this weekend. As stated, the above scene was colored by some of the arguments I've had with my own ladies over the years. Round robin and back and forth. And ultimately, no conclusion and likely made things worse. They do say, write what you know.
Yet, I've also tried to write Margarete as closely to her historical self as possible. The woman apparently could move between righteous fury and full self pity within a moment's notice, as I understand from the research. Henry is a bit more of an enigma and so I feel I can be a bit more free with his personality. The above just seems like something he would do.Thanks to all for reading and for giving comment. I always love to see more.
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I am doubling down on keeping York off the council and in Ireland is the worst possible idea. In sports, the people's favorite for losing teams is the man on the bench. In Ireland, York can do no wrong but on council he would either solve the problems and boost the king's popularity or become another failed councillor. I wonder if there are six degrees of separation between the Yorkists and the revolts. I am sure that at least one revolter would be willing to link the Duke to the revolts in exchange for royal favor. Laws are written to serve the lawgivers.
It is certainly a bad idea, but no one ever accused Henry or his council of being especially smart.
To all - I've had quite a bit on my plate over the last month and change as things continually evolve in RL. Also I need to get back to writing. However, I do have a scene ready and will post forthwith. Thanks for being patient and for continuing to read and comment.
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Dublin, Ireland, June 1450
He was twenty one, just months shy of his twenty second birthday. Tall and had grown a full beard already, he was confident and cocky. He had every right to be. For this Richard Neville was already becoming one of the wealthiest men in England. Through circumstance and marriage, he’d attained what few men at his age could only dream of. And he was trusted. This Richard held an uncanny ability to pull men and women from all sides to his cause or idea. He was able. Assured of his strengths and knew well the weaknesses of others. In short, it was clear to many that he was nonpareil. It was clear this day as he barked orders for provisions to be sent north into the Pale, for no one questioned his authority or position. Older men merely gave nod and followed. Younger men revered him. And Richard of York found him more than capable.
“I suppose I shall have to call you Warwick from now on,” the Duke suggested coldly as he stood behind the Earl.
The younger Richard turned with a smirk, “My most revered uncle, you may call me whatever you wish.”
“Then I should like to call you to attend me,” he answered and beckoned towards his solar.
The Earl moved into step quickly, “Is it news of my lord father? Was he able to make peace with the locals to the west?”
“Not as yet, but he will,” the Duke answered firmly, “No...this is more intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” Warwick questioned with interest as they entered the keep.
Richard of York tossed his gauntlet aside and barked orders to a servant to fetch them some cheese and ale before gesturing to his quarters and walking the steps with certainty. The young Earl of Warwick followed and questioned no more until the chamber door was closed. Once alone, York moved to the window as he asked, “What know you of this fellow Cade?”
“Cade?” Warwick skewed an uncertain brow, “I cannot say that I know much if at all, sir. Have you heard more word out of London?”
“Much and more have I heard,” Richard of York replied without turning, “I doubt much that you would believe the story?”
The Earl found a seat and a smile, “I should wish then that you try me.”
A knock to the chamber door was followed by the servant bringing the requested victuals. He was gone as soon as he entered and Richard of York still did not turn. Instead he softly began to tell the tale, “As I’m certain that you know, the King and Parliament were to Leicester when this man and his ilk made their move out of Kent. All the way to Blackheath where they encamped as if preparing for battle. It is said that King Henry did march along at the head of the royal army and stopped at the Priory of St. John at Clerkenwall. From here he would send representatives to parlay and they were presented with a list of demands by these rebels.”
“And I should think rejected out of hand, of course,” the Earl strongly suggested.
With only a half turn of the head, Richard showed no smile as he gave nod, “The peoples of London were preparing to defend themselves. Guns were positioned along the Thames and barges blockaded the river. With an army twenty thousand strong, King Henry commanded that these rebels return home and our man Cade retreats to Sevenoaks. But not home. And so the King prepares to face them after all. And yet...he does split his army in half and stays to Blackheath while he sends the other half near to Sevenoaks under the command of Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother William. Why did the King do this, I wonder? What should cause this?”
“I think perhaps that I do know,” the Earl leaned back with narrowed eyes.
“Indeed,” Richard of York kept his gaze to the outside, “How strong is the influence of a woman? Perhaps too strong, would you not say?”
Warwick leaned forward and spoke carefully, “I am aware of your lack of affinity with the Queen, but at even half the strength, the King’s army is large enough to treat with a band of rebels. What is more, even your lady wife or mine might wish our safety when such remains...uncertain with them.”
The Duke remained turned away and followed with a harsher tone, “The skirmish lasted less than two hours. Both Stafford brothers were killed. Cade’s men took the day as the rest of the King’s force scattered in panic. And when news of this reached Blackheath? The King’s soldiers mutinied and declared themselves for Cade. They ran riot through London...burning and looting those of the court party. Calling out to all that they would have the heads of the King’s wicked counselors.”
Hearing all of this, Warwick’s face began to turn white. He was shocked and could not move. He asked nervously, “And King Henry?”
York finally turned with no smile still, “Fled to Greenwich at first. Proclaimed that Cade’s men were traitors but still ordered the arrests of Sheriff Crowmer and Lord Say and placed them to the Tower. No trouble with that, or course, but I’m certain this was more for their own safety than any other. And then the King quit London for Kenilworth. At last word, the city was open and Cade was marching north once again.”
“That...is astounding,” was all Warwick could say.
“It is remarkable and sadly so,” York replied, “And one may not even blame Suffolk for this disaster. Nor even Somerset for he remains to Calais. No, my new Lord of Warwick...this may be placed directly at the feet of our august Queen.”
The Earl attempted levity, “Such pretty feet, I am told.”
“I could not say,” Richard of York answered with no hint of humor, “But I am want to think that the time is right to return. Needed even. Required.”
Neville stood and stepped closer, “Uncle, I may be sure that I can speak for my father on this issue...while he and you both find it increasingly irritating that neither are included to Council, the King has repeatedly denied it. Is that the wife? Or these others...Somerset...Suffolk.”
“And Suffolk is now gone, sir,” Richard answered quickly, “Lord Say to the Tower. Others to Council that show no spine and may no longer be in position should this rebellion grow worse.”
“That’s as may be, my Lord...yet the King remains the King. It is to his desire and pleasure that one might serve,” Warwick answered.
York grew irritated, “Yet one must protect the realm when neither the King nor his servants would do so.”
“And that one should be you?” the Earl questioned.
“Why not?” the Duke stood a little taller, “I am closest in line to the throne and should be named heir presumptive. There remains talk of Somerset, but all do know that his line is barred.”
The Earl moved to pour himself some ale, “That may always change...again at the whim of a King. He may be more likely to do so should you not stay here to your post.”
“I did think you held some dislike to Somerset, my young Lord,” Richard of York narrowed his brow.
“Some?” Neville turned back with fresh drink, “More like much, sir. Yet in my troubles with him, the crown has generally sided with me and mine.”
Now York moved back to the window, “I should think it is the law that sides with you, nephew. Your lady wife Anne grants you right of your Warwick title over that of her older half sisters. One of course being Somerset’s own wife. That too may change in time given how close Somerset is with the Queen and the Queen with her own husband.”
“And thus why I shall remain only loyal to King Henry, my lord,” Warwick sat again and crossed a leg, “I may do no other at the now. And you should know that my lord father will remain loyal to me, should you wish to press this issue too far.”
“He is a loyal man, sir,” York replied, “I should know as he has remained loyal to me and my lady wife all these years. Yet I ask that no one be disloyal. For I too am loyal to His Grace. That is reason enough to press the issue, my lord. He needs must have a Council that serves him and not their own interests. I cannot repeat that enough...”
Warwick cut in, “...and yet few still hear it, uncle. Trust me...I do hear you, sir. And agree. But now is not the time to press it. I fear for His Grace as much as you, but if he truly is ruled by his wife and thus sees a thing like this occur...well, it is no doubt that these Kentishmen rise up with their demands. And frankly, should the situation grow worse, the King may finally recall you for surely he will need your prowess. That will be the time to return. The wise time to return for you will be the savior and not what she will surely call you...usurper.”
Richard of York turned back to his nephew with a slim smile finally, “You hold wisdom beyond your years, sir. If I am impatient, then it is due to these many deficiencies left in the wake of Suffolk’s death and those in fact caused by him. Yet it is said that patience is a virtue and I am certain than my Cecily would argue the same.”
“In due time, uncle...” the Earl of Warwick answered, “...there shall be a time of choosing. By the King...by yourself...by my father and mine own...and all else. Know that I serve you in only the best way I know how.”
“You’ve been taught well,” the Duke of York answered as he finally poured himself a small drink of ale.
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