I.

Why, Oh Why Did I Get Out of Bed This Morning?

This morning I woke up with a longing for the crown. Which is giving me me a headache trying to think of a way to get it. You see, there are an awful lot of people in line for the throne in front of me. George the duke of Clarence (my annoying brother) is one of them. Why couldn't I have been older than him? It'd save me a lot of trouble. The nerve of some people. Getting themselves born before their ambitious siblings. Sigh. I suppose I must get out of bed and become Richard, duke of Gloucester, and not some sniffly idiot lying around all morning.

I dragged myself out of the door and walked to a small street where I could talk to myself, which is one of the things I do best. As I walked, I spotted my shadow on the wall of a house.

''Oh dear,'' I sniffed. ''Just look at my appearance. It's DETESTABLE. I have a crooked back. Poor me. Why, oh why did I get out of bed this morning!? I'm not even tall or charming like my brothers. There is nothing else to do except to continue with my plan, and get my brothers King Edward IV and George into a fight. The king will get George out of the way, and one of the heirs to the throne will disappear! But there's still more heirs to shove out of the way. Sigh. Re-sigh. I'm hopeless. And I'm nowhere near as good as my deceased father either. I hate me.''

While I was busy crushing my self-esteem, my brother George, duke of Clarence came down the street under guard. I asked him what had happened, and he replied, "King Edward has sent me to the Tower of London."

"Why?" I enquired.

"Because my name is George," he said.

That's one of the worst things about George, he never makes sense. I wished he would give me a straight answer, for once. But I guessed that my plan to stir Edward up against George had worked. I was proved right, because then George scowled and said that Edward had sent him to the Tower because of a 'prophecy' (that I invented) which said that 'G shall the murderer be'. Therefore, George was thought to want to kill Edward for the crown. Hee hee. So I'm not that hopeless after all!

Then, I played the shocked, grief-stricken, loving brother. I said something like: "Aw, you poor thing, Georgie. Y'know, it wasn't really Edward, but his wife the Queen who put you in such a mess, like she did to good old Lord Hastings." He looked genuinely surprised. You can never expect him to mask his emotions. He looked like he was about to have a meltdown, so I quickly said that I would go and plead, beg even, to get him out of his predicament. I had a pitying look on my face and was patting him on the back all the while. He hugged me (argh) and the guards chivvied him off to the Tower.

But then, from that same direction came the freed Lord Hastings (grinning widely)...

"Good morning to my gracious lord!" said Hastings, still with that silly grin plastered all over his face.

"Same to you, Lord Chamberlain!" I said, just as cheerfully. "How are you after that long gaol term, eh?" "Not too bad," he answered, "I shall still live to be able to thank those who sent me there!"

I couldn't believe how he could smile for such a long period of time. "And the Duke of Clarence should as well, because the people who were your enemies are now his," I replied.

"Oh dear," Hastings said, the smile sliding off his face.

"But anyway," I said, trying to change the subject, "Any news around?"

"Ain't much news around as bad as this!" Hastings moaned, his smile totally absent now. "The king is ill and weak, and his doctors don't have much hope for him!"

"By Saint John, that's bad news indeed!" I growled. "What have I told him about stuffing his royal face too often!? It's very sad to think about. Where is he? In bed?"

"Yep," muttered Hastings.

"You go to visit him first, and I'll come later," I said.

Hastings trailed off, dragging his feet. He had a face on him that could probably make it rain. I have that effect on people. But anyway, I wasn't lying when I said that Edward being sick was bad news. If Edward dies before I have a chance to get rid of George, George will be able to rule while Edward's sons are still small, and if they should die, George will probably become king, and it is much, much harder to kill a king! So right now, I'll try to make Edward hate George more, instead of pleading for him. Then I'll kill George, wait for Edward to die, and marry the Earl of Warwick's youngest daughter. Not really for love (although she is quite pretty), but for another reason... Hang on, hold my horses! George is still alive and Edward is still the king now. But when they are gone, then I'll be on top! Aha ha ha ha haaa! (evil laugh)

I was just innocently walking along a street, when I spotted the corpse of King Henry VI being carried along it.

He was the king before my brother Edward. Very honest and incapable of trickery, but a bit of a nutter in my opinion. A Lancastrian. Good riddance to red rose rubbish. I am from the other side fighting for the crown. A Yorkist. All my family are white roses too. That won't stop me from picking them off so I can get to the crown.

Anyway, next to the corpse, walking along beside it (and weeping piteously), was the Earl of Warwick's youngest daughter, Lady Anne Neville. The one who I was planning to marry.

I stopped the corpse-bearers by walking in front of them. I shouted, "Stop and put down that corpse, or I'll make a corpse of whoever disobeys me!"

I suppose that was a bit nasty, but it worked. Then Lady Anne called me all sorts of horrible names like 'foul hunchbacked toad'. Hey, I only have one shoulder a bit (okay, a lot) higher than the other!

After she shrieked at me to go and hang myself for all the murders I'd done in the past, including killing her husband, I tried to calm her down by saying it was all because of my love for her. I then drew my sword, knelt down, and gave it to her so that she could kill me if she wanted to. I even told her that it was I who murdered King Henry VI. Well, why not? Faint heart never won fair lady.

Anne stood there pointing the sword at me for what seemed an age. She was just about to stab me when her hand trembled and she dropped the sword on the ground. "Pick up the sword again, or be my wife," I said.

"Get up," she said, sniffling. "Even though I wish you were dead, I won't be your executioner."

"Tell me to kill myself then, and I'll do it just for you!" I grinned.

"I have already," she frowned.

"That was anger-fuelled," I said, "Say it again, and I'll do it."

I could see I was starting to win her over. She couldn't bring herself to say it. Her anger was wavering. "Do this, at least, for me," I continued.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Stop mourning, and leave the w-weeping to me who did this h-horrible murder. I'll take the corpse to be buried, then come and see you afterwards."

I looked at her with a face so miserable and love-stricken that it would have made a dragon weep. That did the trick. Lady Anne smiled brightly, wiped her eyes and said, "Well, at least you regret it."

She turned and walked off with her eyes dry and a spring in her step. This is the other effect I have on people. Heh. Actually, I'm a bit surprised. If I was her, I'd have killed me instead of letting myself be won over. If that makes sense.

I hired two murderers to kill George. They went to the Tower of London where he was being kept. This is what they told me when they came back:

When they got to the Tower, George guessed at once that they were there to murder him. He can be quite clever at times, I suppose. He was pleading and whingeing for his life and generally being a milksop. The murderers were almost persuaded to spare him, because George always has been good at talking (and talking and talking and talking). But then one of the murderers stabbed him, which shut him up. That same murderer then stuffed him head first into a barrel of Malmsey wine. Hope no one drinks it. Fermented George of Clarence, yuck. That finished George off. All the while, the second murderer was lamenting the loss of an innocent life. Some people are like that. I just can't fathom it. Afterwards, the murderers came back and told me all this. I paid them handsomely.

Now all that remains is to report this to Edward. After all, people never suspect the messenger because the murderer would hush up the murder, not tell everyone about it! I might just have another evil laugh before leaving. Ha ha ha ha harr *cough cough* eurgh, ahem. I've got to work on that, harrumph, sorry. I'm off.