~The Captured and The Culled~
Holding a sleepy little Marie in her arms, Constance stood at the bottom of the castle steps clad in her bed robe and nightgown. With one trembling hand, she stroked her daughter's dark hair to soothe herself, secretly happy that the five year old did not seem to notice the chaos around her.
Instead, she rested her tired head on her Mother's shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as they rejected the light blurring her vision after being pulled from her bed too early. Constance rocked her back and forth, watching the men at arms that departed Tamworth castle in their polished armour, anxiously.
Their swords at their sides they looked a menacing sight, dangerous with an urge to kill their enemies, but would they be enough to crush the might of the Warwick and Clarence forces?
The King was loved by the people but the Earl was too and had been far longer than Edward. Despite her loyalty to her husband, accompanied by the adoration she bore him, the Queen found herself wondering who would prevail.
"Ma Mère?" Her sleepy daughter mumbled when one particularly cloud crash of metal against metal startled her from her slumber.
"Yes, little love?"
"Where is Papa?"
"I'm here, my darling!" Though she was quiet, Edward's confidant voice answered her question and she looked up to see her strong Father striding towards her with a smile on his face. A wide grin spread across her rosy lips at the sight of the shining warrior that marched in her direction. He was a ferocious beast of metal and velvet that fluttered behind him in a blinding array of murrey and blue adorned by threads of gold.
Her little hands reached towards him as eagerly as a magpie would for a jewel and, when he was in reach, she clambered excitedly into his arms. How many hours she'd spent settled into his strong embrace, she didn't know but was more than happy to spend an eternity in it.
Despite the coldness of his polished armour pressing against her skin through her nightgown, she cuddled close, nuzzling affectionately into the warmth of his neck.
"Where are you going?" She mumbled and her parents exchanged worried glances over her shoulder, Constance shaking her head when she saw Edward part his lips to tell the truth.
"To the stars!" He answered instead, prying her from his chest so that he could swing her above his head like a little bird until she squealed with delight; fully awake.
"Will you come back?" She giggled and her Father immediately nodded, ruffling her hair when he passed her back to Constance. His wife was nowhere near as enthusiastic as his daughter, harbouring an anxious look on her face, represented in the dark crescents that lay beneath her eyes.
"Will you?" She asked when he cupped her face to bestow a gentle kiss to her lips, wrapping one gloved hand around her slender waist.
"You know I will. I will see you soon, sweetheart"
With a determined nod and one last lingering kiss, those were the only words she heard before he pulled away, striding into the light of the new dawn.
A King under attack in his own kingdom.
༻᯽༺
Richmond Castle, two weeks later....
The heat from the fire warmed the large bed chamber in which Constance, her daughter and her ladies sat within, embroidery in their hands, but there was an undeniable coldness caused by one.
Isabel.
None of them spoke of her, not now that her Father had rebelled, but it was no secret she was missed amongst the Queen's Ladies. After all, she'd been one of them for five years before this month of turbulent chaos. Even if everything was remedied, which is what they all hoped for, she would never again return to them, as a royal Duchess who'd betrayed the King there was little hope of future service to his Queen.
Constance sighed, staring into the fire's dancing flames, a performance of burning red and gold usually so beautiful to her eyes but now, something dampened it's beauty, a sodden blanket that weighed heavy on her heart, extinguishing the flames of happiness within so she could only feel worry.
Where was Edward? What was he doing, who was he with? Had he defeated Warwick and George and they were yet to hear? Was Edward returning to her as she thought with Warwick's dead body in tow. She could not loose Richard, she would not lose Richard!
He had been by her side since before she stepped foot on English soil and, while his betrayal stung more than the sharpest dagger cutting into her skin, she was determined to have him by her side once more. Edward was too.
'But what if he is dead?' A small voice asked.
'No!' she shook her head and looked at little Marie who played by her skirts, waddling her little dolls (parting gifts from Edward) across the colourful carpet. Marie of all people could not loose Warwick! She adored him, naming him her favourite Uncle ever since she'd been able to speak the words and toddle towards him on her own two feet.
"Uncle Richard!" She would babble, tugging at his doublet until he whisked her into the air "Uncle Richard! Uncle Richard!"
Even then, she was still blissfully unaware of the world around her. However astute she usually was, she was still a child and she took her parents words as gospel, truth not to be questioned even when no one seemed to sing and no one seemed to dance as they normally did.
'Perhaps Mother has lost another baby' She simply wondered, grumbling when one of the doll's skirts caught on an uneven stone.
"Your grace?" The Queen looked up to see Isabella Ingoldisthorpe, John's wife, kneeling by her side, a tender look of worry on her pretty face.
Yes, she was pretty, Constance decided, taking a moment to study the older woman's chestnut curls and large grey eyes that stared trustingly up at her like a pair of polished stones. Those eyes reminded her of a few of her husband's dogs in a way, the ones that would sit on her lap in an evening, so trusting and kind.
Loyal.
Just as her husband was.
"Are you well, your grace?" Isabella's gentle voice called to her through the haze of her mind and Constance realising how long she must have been studying the woman before her; pushed a smile onto her face.
"Constance" She insisted gently, leaning forward to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind Isabella's ear. The woman murmured her gracious thanks; voice as warm as honey on a hot day "How can one ever be well in a time of unrest?" The Queen continued, well aware that her daughter had now laid down her dolls to listen with ever keen ears "Come here, little love" She patted her knee.
Marie immediately scrambled to her feet, crawling into her Mother's lap where she could listen freely to what was being said all while claiming her Mother's affection for herself! She was happy there.
"I blame the Woodvilles" Isabella grumbled, tugging at a few loose threads of the carpet, much to Marie's amusement, but her Mother simply groaned in agreement.
"They are poison to this land" She spat "And to my marriage....that....that bastard boy is poison to my marriage as is his whore of a Mother!" The Princess wrinkled her button nose in disgust at the thought of the little boy who'd been sent back to London on his Father's departure from Tamworth.
"Arthur" A hand ran through her hair.
"Yes, little love. Arthur"
Isabella peered up at Mother and daughter through dark lashes, lightly biting the inside of her cheek in thought. With five of her own to adore, Isabella knew the bond between Mother and daughter well yet the one between the Queen and her Princess seemed stronger than any she had ever seen! In the Queen's chair they clung to one another like a sailor to a piece of driftwood when stranded in the sea.
Or at least, Constance did. She held her daughter tight within the safe haven of her arms, almost cradling her like she did when she was a babe. Perhaps it was because she was the only one, Isabella wondered, that was why little Marie was so precious.
The Queen was scared that one day she would lose her too, even if she wouldn't admit it, that was why she held her so close, locking her within the gilded cage of her arms.
"Mama?" The Princess whispered, winding a lock of Constance's hair around one small finger "Where has Arthur gone?" The Queen sighed, one again conducting her gaze towards the warm hearth.
"Back to London" She murmured "And with any luck he will stay there"
All in the room jerked to their feet when a fist began to hammer urgently on the chamber door. Over and over and over the banging filled their ears, shooting fear straight to their hearts. Constance clutched her daughter to her chest, cradling the back of her head against her neck to shield her from the danger she was sure lurked out of sight.
"Anne....open the door"
Anne looked at her with wild eyes, pointing to herself in disbelief before she began to shuffle towards the door where the pounding stopped for a mere moment. Each step was nervous calculated and the Duchess jumped when the hammering started again, more urgent now, forcing herself to go on and yank the door open with such force the others were afraid it would swing from its ancient hinges!
"Your grace! Your grace!" The soft cry of a young boy startled Constance far more than the deep voice of a man would have at that moment and she was shocked to see a boy, little older than thirteen, ran into the room. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his chest heaving from how far his lean legs had been pushed to bring him here. Mud smudged his royal livery and his dark hair was plastered to his head by a coat of sweat.
"Why are you here?" Marie asked, her voice full of her Father's command as she peered out from hiding in her Mother's neck and the boy looked up at her. The Queen was struck by how anxious he looked when he thrust a letter in her direction, urging her to take it with all the strength he had left.
"Please" He gasped, beginning to sway slightly from exhaustion "read it, your grace...." His words trailed away as he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap and Isabella gave a cry, rushing to his side. She placed his head on her lap, snatching the letter from his limp hand and giving it to Marie who clutched it to her chest.
"Get him water!" She ordered and Beth immediately rushed out of the chamber to do as she asked. Isabella's panicked gaze met the Queen's when she placed her daughter to the side, taking the letter to tear it open with quaking hands. She strode to the nearest window.
The force of her urgency almost split the parchment in two, sending the broken wax seal hurtling to the floor but Constance did not care, smoothing out the paper until the writing was clear to her eye.
Dearest wife, prepare yourself....
"Edward!" She breathed, a tender smile coming onto her face "oh my Lord....Ned!"
for bad news
Her smile fell and her eyes wandered on with a new desperation. Bad news? Oh God no, anything but that! She could already feel pain beginning to blossom in her heart.
I am prisoner, held by my cousin, Richard. I am unhurt but I believe you to be in very grave danger. They are mad, he and George, mad I tell you, mon amour, and once I would not have dreamt of them challenging me but now I do not only believe them capable of that, I believe them capable of hurting you and our Marie to sate their ambitions.
One hand found it's way to her mouth, shaking with fear and disbelief as a small sob left her lips. Tears began to drip onto the crumpled page and sickness stirred in her stomach. It must be a joke, some foul trick or nightmare sent to torment her by their enemies, by Lancaster.....
Edward could not be captured, he was King! He was the King of England....none could challenge him nor harm her. Warwick and George would not dare! They did not want to hurt her. Did they?
'Read on' A voice in her head heard and she managed to obey, wiping the tears from her eyes so that her eyes were free to read once more.
Elizabeth's Father and brother, John, did not escape; were unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of Warwick who had them executed without trial. I know that he hates them as you do but this act of brutality has shown me how far he is willing to go. Anthony Woodville managed to flee and will be heading to you now. I know that this is not what you want, my dearest darling, but he will protect you, I promise. You must hasten to London, raise the city and arm the Tower for a siege for if George has a son we are lost.
I love you with all of my heart, Constance,
The one and only King of England,
Edward Plantagenet
The sickness in her stomach rose rapidly to her throat and Constance grasped the window latched as she threw it open before vomiting violently into the river below.
"Connie!" Anne cried, rushing from the boy to assist but the Queen waved her away when her stomach heaved again and she wretched out of the window "Connie what is it?"
With careful hands, Anne drew her Queen away from the window and to her bed, undoing her gown with deft fingers before helping her under the covers.
"Bring my Marie to me" Constance breathed, her head still spinning even as she tried to take a sip from the goblet that was offered to her "Bring me my Princess"
"I am here Mama" Marie's sweet voice answered her as she climbed carefully onto the bed, slipping in beside her Mother to cuddle close.
"Oh my little love" She felt whispered against her dark curls, a drop of water sliding onto her cheek when Anne pressed a cool cloth to the Queen's forehead.
"What has happened?" The Duchess asked, face flushed red with worry "Is Edward well? Is Dickon well? And George? What of him?"
"Edward is captured" Constance groaned, hiding her face in the pillow beside her while the taste of vomit in her mouth made her want to wretch all over again. She reached for the goblet once more, managing to take one small sip, swirling the wine before she swallowed.
"Captured?" Beth cried from the fire, almost dropping the water she was lifting to the boy's lips "by whom?"
"Cousin Richard" Anne hissed, retrieving the letter from where the Queen had dropped and scanning the lines with a fire of hatred in her eyes "And George! Our own brother George!" She thrust the parchment into the flames of the hearth, watching with relish as the corners curled and dissolved into ashes "Damn him"
"Oh he will be damned" A deep, male voice said from the door "You can be sure of that!"
She turned at the speed of lighting to see a man standing in the doorway to her chamber, his clothes dusty from riding and hair tangled. The curly golden locks reached his shoulders and the hint of a beard brushed his chin. He was a man she'd never seen before but in his eyes, those clear blue eyes that stared at her, she instantly recognised the boy she'd known.
"James!" To the complete astonishment of her ladies, she dashed across the rooms and threw herself into the arms of this new man, a relived laugh escaping her throat. Grinning, he picked her up and spun her around, making her skirts float in a swirl of silk before setting her down again, his hands on her shoulders.
"Jamie!" She breathed, staring up at him. He'd been taller than her when she'd last seen him almost ten years prior but now, now he was almost as tall as Edward "doux Seigneur, Jamie est-ce vraiment toi?" 'Sweet Lord, Jamie, is it really you?'
"J'ai entendu dire que tu pourrais avoir besoin d'aide, sœur" 'I heard you might need aid, sister' He replied, much to her delight.
"And you came!"
"Of course I did!" He exclaimed, his English as perfect as hers and heavy with their accent "I told you before your marriage you need never have fear while I am here, so here I am, your grace" the title earned him a giggle and she swatted him playfully on the arm.
"You of all people needn't address me as that! You are my brother!"
"Your brother, ma Mère?" A little voice asked and Constance looked over her shoulder to see Marie peering around Beth's skirts. The young girl watched the man behind her Mother curiously, arching an eyebrow when she was beckoned forward.
"Yes, little love, this is my brother, Lord James of Bourbon" She smiled, holding out a hand that was promptly taken by Marie's small one "This, Jamie" She declared proudly "is my daughter, Princess Marie of York" James smiled and swept a deep bow, his eyes glinting with a merriness that made the young girl smile.
"C'est un honneur de vous rencontrer, Princesse Marie" 'It is an honour to meet you, Princess Marie' He said and she bobbed a little curtsy.
"L'honneur est à moi, mon Seigneur" 'The honour is mine, my Lord' She replied and he grinned at her Mother.
"I take it she has a keen mind? I've scarce heard any language so perfect from one so young!" Constance nodded proudly, combing a hand through her daughter's dark hair. James' smile widened "Then she is certainly your daughter, Connie"
༻᯽༺
Constance stared at her brother across the hearth as he sipped slowly on his wine. She'd heard little from him since she'd left France, only knowing he'd taken flight from their home soon after to take in the delights the courts of Europe had to offer. He rarely returned and when he did it was only to complete a matter of family business before he was gone again.
She wagered that was so John could not entrap him in marriage!
Italy had more or less become his home now, he'd told her in the past hours where she was regaled with his adventures, Florence in particular.
He'd struck up a friendship with Lorenzo De Medici, Lord of the City and head of the Medici bank who also happened to be the bankers of the English royals, finding they shared a love of the arts as well as philosophy. According to James, Florence was a city forged in magnificence and he was loath to be parted from its walls but when he'd heard of her troubles he'd made straight for England!
Constance could only smile as she listened to him, allowing the troubles of the present to escape her for a few precious hours. Ten years they'd been parted and yet as they sat together by the fire, no awkwardness or formality between them, it was as if he'd been away for maybe a month or two at most!
James brought her peace and reassurance, another ally to her ranks and she was sure with his aid, this rebellion would be crushed.
"So tell me of these Woodvilles, they are notorious across Europe, whenever the English court has been discussed during my travels, their name is spoken alongside it?" He asked at length and immediately her sunny facade retreated, not even the pleasure of speaking with her brother in their mother-tongue was enough to keep one spark of joy burning.
"Are they liked?" Her words were terse.
"Not at all, they are viewed as power hungry upstarts who are an insult to you" She only nodded, circling a finger around the rim of her wine glass. Two of the Woodvilles were now dead and another travelling the roads of England to find her. While her piety would force her to pray for the souls of the dead, she knew her heart would never be sorry for their demise.
"At least that has not been twisted" She sighed "I feared it would be.....they are a plague to this land and to me. Marie too....Elizabeth is a whore and a witch" James arched his eyebrows.
"A witch?" He echoed and she nodded.
"It is well known she and her Mother boast being descended from the water goddess Melusina....they are witches, I am sure of it" It was a conclusion she'd come to long ago, when the Woodville star kept rising and there was no power on earth that could stop it. Elizabeth was beautiful, it was true, more so than any woman she'd ever seen but when the tales of witchcraft reached the Queen's ears it took her less than a breath to believe them.
Elizabeth was a witch, she was sure of it, her Mother too, both evil masquerading behind beauty.
"Is that how she maintains a hold over the King?" James asked and Constance shrugged a little.
"At first, perhaps, but she has borne his son and through him she has a hold over my husband she needn't use magic to keep"
"He is a bastard'
"He is a boy" She sighed with a sad smile "more precious than a jewel to a King....." Finding tears cloud her gaze, she turned to the flickering flames of the fire, the long lost giggles of a babe echoing in her ears, the ghost of downy hair brushing along her fingertips "I once had a son...." She whispered "it was strange, he was a cheruby little thing, downy brown hair, blue eyes and I named him for you. His coming brought so much pain but I knew when I first saw his face that I would never love anything in the world the way I loved him. Perhaps if I'd loved him less, his passing would've been easier but no Mother can limit the love they bear their child"
"You will have sons, Connie"
She sighed again, tearing her eyes away from the fire and her thoughts, almost laughing at the phrase said so many had said to her over and over.
"That's what Edward says but we have been married for nine years and what has come of it?" She asked "Five dead babes and one living? A girl? I love her with all my heart but I do wish I had a son....if only my James had lived....he would almost be nine now! Think of that, my little boy nine years old...."
Now it was James' turn to sigh and he reached across the hearth to take her hand, gently lacing their fingers together with a squeeze.
"I will help you quell this rebellion, sister, in any way that I can I will help" She knew he would but arched her eyebrows all the same.
"They have Edward, what is to be done?"
"Well, first you need to make all haste to London as he has likely already instructed" Her brother stated, settling back into his chair again - goblet in hand "secure the capital and you secure parliament, you secure the country's main seat of power. Fortify the city and from there you can plan, Lord Warwick cannot make George King if Parliament doesn't approve!"
"I still cannot believe he would do such a thing" Constance muttered "It is the Woodvilles that have pushed him to it, Richard would never betray me unless something forced him past all reason!"
"Weather it was the Woodvilles or not that have driven him to treason, what matters now is that you protect what's yours, that you protect Marie and her future; your husband's crown" James argued in return and she couldn't deny he was right. Whatever motive Warwick had to rebel against his King, he still sought to take Edward's crown, her crown, Marie's position! She could only take action.
"Then to London we shall go"