Well I hope you enjoyed that little taster, and now for the whole story! And….oh yeah this story is dedicated to all my greatest friends, you know who you are! Thank you so much for making me always smile (especially in law tehe)

The practice yard rang with the thud of blunted steel against the thick, sun-hardened leather padding on the practice posts. At the head of the yard, battle master Sir William de Saio called the standard strokes that were practiced. I stood on my toes, my sword a flickering tongue that danced out, in and across. The sequence suddenly changed, breaking many of the boys on the field out of rhythm, leaving only four: Edward, Walter, Mathew and me. An extra deadly stroke was added, and three stepped back, leaving only Edward and me subject to the harsh, clawing wind of Autumn. Sir William called the order to stop, acknowledging our hard work. Turning towards each other, we allowed our sword points to drop to the dust, hands on the pommel, with our sword hilt resting upon our belt in parade rest position. We both smiled, removing any formality from the occasion. Edward's golden locks fell across his face, and it became easy to see why he was considered the most eligible bachelor in the palace.

We entered the food hall to silent whispers, something was wrong, for the hall was the loudest place in the palace. Seeing our friends, Walter and Mathew, I headed towards them, followed by Edward, but seeing their worried faces, we slowed. Yes, something was certainly wrong. The Scribe-master, Master Bartholomew appeared at front of the room, his face blank, this was unusual as usually he was full of enthusiasm. I sat down in the closest chair as he began to speak, 'Protector Cromwell is dead, he died at Whitehall today, 3rd of September 1658.' Gasps filled the room; although the Protectorate was unpopular, Cromwell had created a government that was extremely efficient and had expanded the British Empire. This would mean that Cromwell's inexperienced son, Richard would inherit the title of Protector. Richard lacked the passion of his father and had no confidence in the army. This was going to be interesting.

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The following days were sombre in preparation for Cromwell's funeral, which was to be elaborately based upon that of King Richard I. Before long, Richard was named 'Protector'; however this was opposed by many, especially Edward's father, General Disbrowe. All of our lessons were postponed, making life within the palace rather uninteresting, so I decided to put my literate skills to use, writing letters to the fair Daniella. I confined myself to my quarters for many hours, trying in vain to express my love for her upon paper, while my fellow squires practiced horsemanship around the palace. Often I was visited by Edward whom requested my company on the rare days of sunshine during the fall, which I accepted gladly for pure need of inspiration which was not easily found in the puritan black of the palace. After the funeral of Cromwell and the coronation of his son, training resumed as normal. I threw myself into my studies, hoping to become a knight by the conclusion of the present year, which would lead to my eligibility as a husband for my love. I wrote many letters to Miss Bessette, passing them to my cousin, Clarinda Abott whom was my love's maid. Obviously becoming a knight within the following months was not my fate as the following day, Sir William requested the company of Edward, Walter and I. He explained that the parliament was in conflict, for a majority wished to remove the Protectorate, while others seemed determined to protect Richard. Our task was to ride to Holland, and bring back the only heir to England's throne, Charles Stuart. That evening I received my first letter from Miss Bessette. Although it was short, it held the essence of hope that we would be joined by hand in the near-future.

Charles was not a hard man to find. Quoting our barely recalled geography lessons, we understood that the residence in which he would most likely be staying would be The Hague, the parliamentary residence of Holland. On 1 April 1660, Edward Disbrowe, Walter Placett and Nicholas Bennett were introduced to the future king of Scotland, Ireland and England, Charles II. We explained the predicament of the English Protectorate, and the government's wish for the monarchy to be restored, resulting in the need for Charles to claim the throne. Charles agreed, sending out a document promising a general amnesty and freedom of conscience, later known as the 'Declaration of Breda'. Walter delivered this declaration to London, and as no reply was received, it was assumed that the conditions were accepted. Edward and I stayed in Holland for a further nineteen days as Charles prepared to depart for England. Sporting new chain mail, we set off for London, landing at the green port of Dover on 25 May and entered London on 29 May, Charles' thirtieth Birthday.

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The streets were alive with the sound of cheers from the many citizens of London, come to herald the new king. Suddenly there was a rush of colour that came flooding from the palace gates, into the tiny streets of the town. Obviously the parliament had told the court of Charles' protestant beliefs, resulting in everyone burrowing into the depths of their closets to find the satin, bows and ribbons that had been hidden for so long. I dismounted, realising that as an escort, I was expected to oversee the coming of the entourage. I landed softly upon the cobblestones of the street to find, standing beside me the object of my heart's desire. She was dressed in fine blue silk, the colour of midnight, adorned with roses and ribbon. I left her eyes for last, knowing that as soon as I looked into them I would be lost in their depths. I was correct.

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The next few years were peaceful, for the Monarchy was restored. Edward, Walter and I were knighted and were presented with our shields which were adorned with the insignia of the Stuart family, featuring a lion and a harp, commemorating our service to the crown. It was because of this service, Daniella's father agreed with my request for his daughter's hand, and we were married in the Spring of 1663. But in the summer of 1665, my cousin Clarinda became sick with what was later known as the Black Death. I sent Daniella, much to her protest, to her country estate in Dorset, while I stayed at the Palace to protect my country from the oncoming Dutch War.

Faintly the breeze carried the sound of the non-stop hammering and clanking from the armoury that had been going on, night and day for the past week. These were the sounds of England preparing for the coming war.

Well……that's the end

Just wondering if anyone wanted me to write a continuation of this story, it would be fun, but I don't know how quickly it would be put up….but meh

Thankyou soooo much for reading

Oh yeah constructive, and let me repeat constructive criticism is happily accepted

Thanks once again

Glacier Cherry