Hello again readers! I hope you enjoy the latest chapters of "As Loyalty Dues!" As you'll see from this chapter, things are starting to happen - there is chaos at the Royal Court in London. Please give a like/review and let me know what you think!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - MIDDLEHAM, APRIL 1483
There was already great distress in the Castle of Middleham the day the King died. John had been ordered back to Hornby Castle in Lancashire by his mother, because his stepfather was ill and likely to die, according to the physicians. But all could tell that the boy did not want to leave, because his brother was ill with a spring fever, and a nasty cough to boot. This left moods sour and tension high already, especially in the Duke of Gloucester's solar, where an argument seemed to have been going on for some time, by the time Marion entered the room.
"Even though you do not like the man, you must go." Dickon said, frowning down at the boy before him.
John of Gloucester shook his head. "The man will only say that he is glad to be dying, because he will no longer have to suffer my presence. Please, Papa, I should stay by Neddy's side. He is my brother; Edward Stanley is simply my tormenter."
"That matters not. Think of your mother, John. What would happen to her if Stanley died? She would be a penniless widow, on her late husband's estate – well, technically, it is hers, but that matters not in the law – with naught but... but you."
"She could stay here... right?" in a moment of self-doubt, John's midnight blue eyes swept to Lady Anne, silently asking her permission. Marion watched her nephew's face crumple as the woman shook her head.
"Why?" he breathed. "Mama once told me that when Neddy and I were babes and Katheryn was a little girl that she and Aunt Kate came here to help Aunt Marion get ready for her wedding."
Dickon opened his mouth to answer, but Marion beat him to it, making her presence known.
"'Twas a completely different situation, lad. But do not fret, my dear brother-in-law has expressed fondness for your mother, and my sister still considers Nan to be her friend. If Edward Stanley is to die, then your mother may have a place to stay with my sister and her family."
Dickon sighed, and Lady Anne smiled weakly.
"Ah, thank you Marion, I knew there was a reason I did summon you here."
"No thanks is necessary, Sir, for I am no one special."
Husband and wife looked ready to retort, but were silenced by the loud and suddenly violent arrival of Francis Lovell. The man's gold curls had fallen into his emerald eyes, and his face bore the pallor of one who has been in shock.
"Dickon -" he gasped, doubling over to wheeze. It appeared he had just run all the way to the solar from the gatehouse.
Dickon stood, grasping his friend's shoulders. "Francis? Whatever is the matter?"
"A-a-a messenger – come from London – said it was urgent! He said it's from Lord Hastings!"
"I shall go and see to this now," he said, pausing only for a moment to kiss his wife's cheek.
Left alone in the room with Lady Anne and John, Marion shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"Is there anything you require of us, m'lady?"
"Nay, Marion, I am quite alright. Mayhap take John and see to it that his things are packed."
"As you will," Marion grabbed John by the arm and steered him towards his chambers. He struggled a bit, nearly freeing himself, but Marion held him firm. Fast approaching his twelfth birthday, John seemed to be developing even more strength than his father. They walked in stony silence for a time, before John spoke hesitantly.
"Will Mama really have a place with your sister?"
"If worst comes to worst and Lord Stanley dies, then yes. I am sure Kate would love to have her oldest friend in her household."
John smiled at her, just as it appeared to Marion that he was going to reply, a new voice spoke from behind them.
"Whether he lives or dies matters not. You won't be going anywhere, brother."
Both turned and frowned at the now fourteen-year-old Katheryn, who looked more somber than usual.
"Why?" they chorused in unison.
The girl bowed her head. "Because Father has just received word that his brother, the King, is dead."
Bells tolled from the chapel, casting a grimmer mood on the already grim inhabitants of the castle. Marion, Katheryn, John, Neddy, Maggie, and Eddie walked back to the main keep after paying their respects to the dead King. All of the children wore clothes of black, dark blue, or pale purple; those being the colours of mourning. Dickon's children who remembered when the King had come to visit, seemed to see the magnitude of this loss. King Edward's oldest son, the one also named Edward, was roughly of an age with John – only a year older. But he was still a boy, and Marion knew no good would come of having a boy King.
She remembered stories Kate and Dickon had told her about King Henry VI, and how he was mad. He had spent all of his time praying, trying to ward off the evil spirits and demons he was convinced he saw, and this had led instability in his reign. It was for this reason that Dickon's father, Richard, Duke of York had started a war against him before Marion was born. From the stories she had been told, King Henry had been a babe when he was crowned, upon the death of his father, Henry V. Marion had a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with his madness. The young woman's heart broke at the thought of that happening again – a boy King going mad from the responsibilities and power held over him, plunging the country into war. She wished dearly that such a thing would never happen again.
And unless someone stepped in and took action and control, Marion feared that young Prince Edward would end up just like his father's predecessor, when he took the throne.
Marion did not expect that it would be Dickon who would take control, along with his friends Francis, two other lords named William Catesby and Richard Radcliffe, and Henry, Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. Granted, Dickon did not want to take control of the situation, as he disclosed in a letter to those who stayed back at Middleham. Rather, he had been forced to act by none other than the Woodvilles. His companions, while not dear friends to him as Francis was, had pledged their loyalty to him in the ensuring crisis with he Royal Family, urging Dickon to step up.
Why does this not surprise me? Marion wondered, as she skimmed through the letter.
It seemed that the Woodvilles wanted to rule through the boy King, and had attempted to seize him on his way to London from his household at Ludlow Castle. This had prompted Dickon to act, taking the boy himself, and installing him at the Tower of London, in the royal apartments. The former Queen-consort had taken her other son, Richard, and some of her many, many daughters and fled into sanctuary in Westminster Abbey. However, Dickon managed to convince the old Woodville Queen to release her second son, so that he may join his brother at the Tower.
Marion suspected her friend did this for the same reason he had allowed she and Kate to stay together after fleeing from Isolde; he understood the value of having a strong sibling bond, especially in times of great turmoil. Even if the brothers had not grown up together – Edward having his own household at Ludlow, and Richard growing up at Westminster, with his mother – having each other there for the sake of familiarity was good. They would be able to rely on and support each other through their grief, and the turmoil they found themselves in.
"Lady Marion?"
Marion looked up from the letter, now detailing how the men traveling with young Edward – Rivers Vaughan and Gray, they were called – had planned to assassinate Dickon and were to be executed soon. The voice breaking Marion from her reading had come from a group of children. In front of the group was Eddie, the youngest at just seven years. Though, the one who had spoken was Maggie, standing to her brother's right.
"Lady Marion, my brother has a question for you," the girl said.
Unlike the other children who called her "Aunt," Maggie had been old enough to understand that Marion was in no way related to her when she arrived at Middleham. The girl was of an age with Neddy at that time. Eddie, however, had been a little boy of two – barely more than a babe – when he arrived, and had picked up from the other children their title for Marion. And that was how he addressed her now.
"Aunt Marion? Uncle Dickon be alright?"
Marion put the letter down, forcing a smile to her face. "Of course he will, sweet boy."
The boy smiled, showing a gap where one of his front teeth had been. Quickly, he hugged her, before scurrying out of the room with his sister in tow. Both children greatly resembled their mother, Isabel Neville, whom Marion could only remember from those few times they had met. Both had Lady Isabel's flaxen curls, and kind faces (thankfully neither of them looked as shrewd and cruel as their father), and Eddie even had eyes of a similar shade to Lady Anne's. Maggie had her father's eyes, though they were filled with warmth and kindness. The other children had not changed much. Katheryn looked more and more like her mother every day, though she still resembled her father in colour. John was Dickon's spitting image, sometimes when Marion looked at him, she thought she was looking at Dickon as she remembered him from her childhood. Young Neddy looked like a little prince, his hair such a dark auburn it almost looked black, those unique eyes of his, and his father's features etched onto his fair face. All of the children were beautiful to Marion, and it did not seem fair that they would have to live in times of such turmoil as their parents had. But alas, life was never fair, especially to those who deserved it to be fair.
Sighing, she turned back to the letter, skimming the contents once more. With Rivers, Vaughan and Gray – relations of the Dowager Queen – to be killed, the path would be clear for young Edward to be crowned. Dickon would be his Lord Protector until he came of age.
Shaking her head at the complexity of it all, Marion wished for the new King's sake that things could go smoothly. The last thing she wanted to see was England plunged back into war. Grabbing a will and fresh pot of ink from her desk, Marion began to pen a reply in her spidery, sloped writing. She made sure to stress to Dickon the need to protect young Edward's mental wellbeing, lest he become like Old King Henry.
Once complete, Marion made the familiar trek down to the gatehouse, where she paid for the letter to be delivered with haste to London. As she walked back to the main keep, Marion prayed silently, begging God that no more trouble would occur before she received a reply from Dickon. And that none would come afterwards.