Book three of the Lancastrian series

For those of you who have been waiting (a long time) for news of the next Lancastrian book, here's your chance to read the entire first chapter of Roses and Thorns!

Please keep in mind that you may find mistakes, such as misspelled words, as this chapter has only been read through twice.

Chapter 1
The King of England

Cold and snowy weather plagued Sir William’s path to London. He was not alone, however; Lady Rosabella, now his wife, accompanied him. A handful of Colcestrian knights also rode with them, and a group of maids was with them as well. William’s faithful squire, Chandler, carried his master’s standard high above in the dreadful wind as their horses trudged through the muddied southern path away from Colchester.

Sir William’s faithful horse, Donatello, still carried the knight. Though now the mighty Spanish stallion had aged and slowed; for five years had now past since Henry VI’s return home from his isolation in Poland. To the horses’ delight, their riders were not in a rush, and so they only went on with an easy trot.

“Essex County has mended well in these past years!” remarked William looking to his wife. “Though you did not see it at its worst during the Fires of Essex.”

“You have rehearsed to me several times that tale, husband,” replied Rosabella with snark.

“Aye! Important it was for England!” said William as they rode. “But more importantly: those events led to my first arrival in London, where I became the page and then squire to the great Sir John Fastolf! Oh, how life is now different than what it was before Colchester’s destruction!”

“For the better, I hope,” said Rosabella.

“Of course it is!” William replied quickly.

Now it was not long after this when the group came to London’s north wall and passed through the great stone archway of Bishopsgate.

“London is a happy place compared to when last we were here!” remarked Rosabella.

“Commerce and trade have returned to the city,” said William. “John Hardyng has done well during his tenure as regent!”

“Will he remain even after Henry’s coronation?” asked Chandler riding up alongside William.

“Someone must continue to govern,” replied William. “Henry, even now, is still too young to rule. Wisdom is gained from experience and Henry little has none yet, and so, he will need much wise counsel to become a good king. But let us not worry about such things now. We must make our way to the estate and take shelter there from this blasted weather!”

Their destination was not far from the northern gate, despite London’s growth, and when they came to the old estate, a young lad met them at the courtyard’s threshold. He was the same age as Chandler, or close to it, and held himself upright like a servant might.

“Hello, my lord and lady!” he said. “We have been expecting you; that is, Sir Borin has. He awaits your arrival inside.”

“You are a squire?” asked William as the party dismounted the horses. “Mark is it?”

“At your service, good sir knight,” Mark said with a bow. “I am indentured to Sir Borin as his squire after being released from the service of the traitor and disgraced knight, Hadrian. Come now, the others await you!”

As the squire led the travelers into the homely abode, William felt a sickening feeling in his gut while dwelling on Hadrian’s well-being. It had been years now since their last interaction and William wondered if it would be appropriate to even visit his old friend.

“My lords!” the squire declared as they entered the warm and brightly lit great hall. “The lord and lady of Colchester have arrived safely!”

Borin had been drinking there at the same table where William received his first meal in London years ago.

“Ah! Glad I am are to see you, friend!” Sir Borin embraced William. “You have aged well! Although you do appear much different than when we first met; I see more of your father now in your face! And I am fond of your neatly-trimmed beard.”

“I will take your words as praise!” answered William laughing and then also embracing Borin. “You look well!”

“Ah, as well as an old dirty blacksmith and aging knight can look!” said Borin, with his familiar gruff and near-toothless smile. “But Rosabella is now Lady of Colchester? Splendid news! I had heard of your marriage but events here at the capital prohibited me from celebrating with you in person,”

“Do not feel remorse for this, sir knight,” said Rosabella.

“Were it possible, all of your friends here in London would have attended the ceremony,” Borin bowed as he took the lady’s hand and kissed it.

“Though we may be lord and lady, Colchester still belongs to my mother,” said William.

“That is good,” said Borin. “But by whose authority is this law?”

“John Hardyng used his power as regent to make this so,” replied William. “We may have lost Colchester had he not intervened; for there are lords vieing for control of my home.”

“He is expected to step down as Henry is crowned,” said Borin. “Hardyng is aging, as are we all, and desires to live out his days in a castle with servants attending his every need.”

“He has that now,” laughed William.

“Yes, only he does not desire to deal with the political duties which come with being Lord Protector.”

“Bless him!” said William taking a seat. “Who will ensue him? Henry may be older now but he is still a young child.”

“That is for the king himself to decide,” replied Borin. “Though we lords and nobles may give suggestions, I have my hopes the next regent will be as good as John Hardyng.”

“As do I,” said William. “For he led us through some swell years here in England.”

“Yes, but while the homeland thrives our territories in France struggle,” said Borin. “However, this trouble should not be dwelt on now; for this week we celebrate the ascendancy of Henry VI to his rightful place as our king!”

“When is the coronation?” asked Rosabella. “It is soon but I cannot recall which day the message had stated.”

“It is scheduled for the sixth day of November,” answered Borin.

“Tomorrow?” asked William. “Well, I suppose we should rest before then.”

They all rose from their chairs and the travelers retired for the night. William and Rosabella slept in the same room which he had stayed in during his time as Fastolf’s student. Though William could not sleep and instead spent most of the night peering out from the window looking towards the Tower of London. He was thinking again of Hadrian as he perused the Tower’s magnificent roof and white stone. Snow began falling heavily and this view caused William to recall more clearly his first time in London.

“It all seems so long ago,” he said to himself as he went to bed and slept.

When morning came, it was cold and the light had not yet arrived. Rosabella had departed the room by the time William stirred. He found her down in the hearth, which had already been warmed by a strong fire.

“Goor morning, my lord,” said Chandler greeting the knight. “Shall I fetch you something warm to wear and perhaps food and drink?”

“Favourable it would be,” replied William as he gently kissed his wife on the forehead and joined her as they relaxing in the red-tinted hearth.

“I should like to remain here for a few days after the coronation,” asked William.

“I do not desire to be far from home for too long,” said Rosabella. “There is a strong affection in me for Colchester now, and your mother may need care.”

“Aye, especially now after several years of peace,” replied William. “Colchester is grand again and we should enjoy it!”

“Your father would be proud of what you have done with his lands!” Sir Walter walked in after overhearing their words and greeted his friends. “Welcome back to London, my boy! Though, you are no longer a boy, are you?”

“Walter!” William exclaimed while embracing his fellow knight. “It has been too long, friend!”

“Yes, indeed it has,” replied Walter. “M’fraid politics both here and in France have made me an extremely busy man of late.”

“Please sit, good sir!” William said.

At this moment Chandler returned with sustenance for both William and Rosabella.

“Ah! Sir Walter!” exclaimed the squire. “Forgive me sir; for I had no knowledge of your arrival. Do you wish for food and drink as well?”

“I have already eaten but would not deny a strong drink,” replied the Walter.

“So you say to have been busy during these years?” William asked with curiosity. “What has been the cause of this?”

“Our territories in France have been threatened,” said Walter.

“Yes, I’ve heard,” answered William. “I had almost sailed with Montacute for the battle at Orléans.”

“I am sure you heard how it went,” said Walter with remorse. “Perhaps it was for the better you did not join the siege. A cannonball struck the tower where Montacute took cover during the bombardment. Shrapnel ripped half of his face off.”

“I grieved long when receiving the message,” said William hanging his head.

“We all did,” said Rosabella gently taking her husband’s hand.

“A great knight, he was!” said Walter standing and taking his goblet of mead from Chandler. “Here’s to the fallen! Our friend, Sir Thomas Montacute! And also to the others who have left us.”

“To Sir Bendict and Fastolf!” William stood and joined the toast.

“I saw Montactue at his lowest whilst imprisoned at Paris,” said William. “You gain more respect for someone when you see them beaten and vulnerable only to rise again!”

“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed Walter. “Which is why I shall always revere people like Fastolf and your father!”

“My lords,” Chandler entered the hearth. “It is almost time for the coronation. We must prepare now.”

“It is finally time to taste victory!” said Walter striding towards the door. “After all these years, it is time to witness what we have desired for so long!”

“Which garb shall I fetch for you, Sir William?” asked the squire. “I imagine you desire to look lordly today?”

“Indeed, I do!” answered William. “I should think the blue and gold tunic of my father is appropriate.”

Chandler took a quick bow before going off to gather his master knight’s clothing. Rosabella had gone to the window in the hearth, which overlooked the courtyard of the estate where the knights of Colchester roamed. William came behind and held her as they watched Sir Walter and his squire depart from the manor’s courtyard.

“Have you named this place yet?” asked Rosabella.

“Red Lion Manor,” William replied without much thought. “Strange it is for Fastolf to have never named this homely abode. Perhaps he did and never gave me such knowledge.”

“It is a name worthy of both his family and yours!” Rosabella smiled. Although she was born to a German lord, she had taken a liking England and its heritage, especially their heraldry and love of lions as a symbol of pride and strength.

“My lord,” Chandler returned and stood patiently at the hearth’s entrance holding garments. “Your clothes, sir, as requested.”

“I must also prepare,” said Rosabella

As the squire aided Sir William in dressing and fastening his sword on the belt, his wife went up to the second floor with the maidservants. She returned shortly, wearing a red dress with gold flowers sewn around the neckline and wrist.

“You look the part of a courtly lady!” exclaimed William. “Though you do not wear the colors of my house.”

“Blue is expensive!” Rosabella defended her choice.

“True!” replied William. “But will the other lords know you are with Colchester while wearing red?”

“I believe they will!” answered Rosabella taking the knight’s arm as he escorted her to the stables.

Upon arriving, the stablemaster met them with a grim face.

“Lord William, ill news do I have,” he said removing his grey cowl. “Your Donatella is sickly. He’s not eaten since arriving and is behaving erratically. The poor horse has even blindly walked into objects. I am afraid you cannot ride him at the moment.”

William went to the stallion’s side and gently caressed his long mane and obsidian neck. The horse was skittish at first, but when learning it was William who stood by, his nerves calmed.

“Do what you can for him,” ordered William helping Rosabella onto her steed. “Take these coins and retain any further medical aid if needed. Donatello is dear to me; please help him.”

“Aye sir, I will!” replied the stablemaster. “You need not worry; the horse is in good hands with me.”

William took a different horse now, though with this news he was greatly saddened and bitter. Now he and Rosabella, along with Chandler, rode through the streets of London.

“I am sorry, William,” Rosabella reached out to grab his hand, even as they rode towards Westminster Abbey. “Donatello will be back to full health and strength soon!”

“I admire your confidence,” replied William. “However, I am afraid his symptoms are consistent with an illness which is usually deadly among horses. It is something us farmhands are familiar with all too well. Donatello may have been afflicted by mosquitoes.”

“There is nothing to be done for him?” Rosabella asked with an unstable voice.

The knight said nothing in response at that moment and only shook his head. But finally, just before coming to Westminster, he spoke up.

“Donatello was aged before I received him,” he said wiping a tear away. “He has been through several battles and long cross-country treks. Perhaps it is his time. No finer horse has there ever been, not even King Henry V’s fabled white mare could rival my friend.”

There was a large crowd gathered in the streets around the great cathedral, which had remarkably remained undamaged during the conflicts against the Duke of Bedford and his brother. The abbey of Westminster was a grand place; the entrance was guarded by three pronounced archways. Two smaller arches flanked the larger center sweep, which stood over the strong wooden doors. Its outstretched pillars were topped with grey slopped roofs and the structure's stone resembled the white face of the Tower of London.

“Sir William; over here!” Walter called out from among the crowd and sent armed guards to escort the lord and lady of Colchester from the horses to the abbey.

William was glad to leave the bustling and anxious crowd behind him, but when entering the abbey, he found many people had gathered inside as well. A more calm feeling set in, as soldiers protected the entrance and lined the choir hall leading up to the altar. Here, before the dais, the knights joined other lords and ladies. The choir was singing, as they had been for hours now. Their voices filled the halls of Westminster with Latin words of praise and could even be heard even from outside the strong stonework of the building.

“I understand little of what they are singing,” said William as he listened. “Though it is soothing to my soul.”

“They praise God for protecting Henry VI,” replied Walter. “Methinks they should also thank you!”

“I could not have aided Henry without God’s help, my friend,” William said quickly.

“You speak the truth,” said Walter as the bishop’s precession marched down the aisle towards the altar. “But you are an instrument, which the Lord saw fit to use.”

As the bishop disappeared beyond a door to William’s left a group of lords came now and gathered on the opposite side of the aisle.

“That is Richard of York,” said Walter. “He is Henry VI’s older cousin.”

William observed the man; he possessed a grim face, though not an angry one. He was gruff, but he was still young, perhaps younger even than William. Richard knelt and crossed himself and took a quick glance towards the Colcestrian, who looked away.

“William, the bishop comes!” Walter whispered nudging his friend with an elbow. “He is the great uncle of our little ruler, Henry Beaufort on Winchester.”

All the lords and ladies knelt or bowed and also crossed themselves in reverence to Bishop Beaufort as his entourage passed by. The choir continued vocalizing, even as another larger crowd of richly adorned people paraded down the aisle. Many more lords and ladies came, these were mostly those who presided over Parliament. John Hardyng was with them.

Among them, in the center of the gaggle, was little seven-year-old Henry VI. He wore a regal cape adorned with the symbol of Richard III and bore a gold scepter. Being a child still, he appeared frightened and nervous. As he continued down the aisle, the people fell to their knees and remained there until Henry had gone up to the dais with the clergy. Little Henry, at last, came to stand next to Beaufort and knelt before the Bishop of Winchester, clasping his hands together.

Beaufort crossed himself and began citing Scripture in Latin while a priest poured oil on the child’s head. Henry attempted to remain composed but choked as oil spilled down his face and found a way into his mouth. Still, the child remained on his knees with his hands clenched, as if praying.

“Now rise, Henry the VI, King of England, France, and Ireland,” these were the only English words William heard Beaufort speak.

Henry VI stood and faced the gathered thrall there before him at the abbey and was met with three citations of “long live the king!”. William smiled widely as he praised his ruler.

“Now we will follow and escort him through London’s streets back to the Tower,” Walter leaned in towards William’s ear as King Henry stepped down from the raised alter and proceeded to exit the church.

A host of armed soldiers surrounded the child king and he was flanked by many knights, including William, who kept his left hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, underneath a cloak.

“You should have nothing to fear here, my boy,” John Hardyng came alongside. “Look at how the people love their king!”

“Tis good to see you, my friend!” exclaimed William with joy. “But you must forgive my readiness; for we knights are here to protect the king and I must not let my guard down. Our good friend, Sir Benedict, once said a knight should never lose his edge.”

“Well, that man never lost his edge!” said Hardyng. “He was an example of bravery and brawn, even up to the last minute of his life.”

“I do miss him,” said William, still surveying the crowd.

“We all do!” said Hardyng. “A fine member of knighthood he was and it is a shame King Henry will never know him.”

John Hardyng was correct, for no threat appeared as they marched through the city. It was a long walk for the seven-year-old Henry, and so he climbed atop a horse and rode most of the way. They traveled underneath the great gates and archways protecting the causeways leading to the Tower. Eventually they passed through Lion Tower. Now they were away from the crowd and the guarding knights and soldiers became less nervous as King Henry galloped beyond Middle Tower, which protected the outer ward, and then finally Byward Tower.

However, the strong gates were not closed, for the lords thought no danger was immediately present. Henry was brought to the Tower and into the throne room, where he was at last seated. All the lords and knights gathered around the throne and John Hardyng stood closest to the young monarch.

“My king,” he began. “There is an important matter now for you to decide as the first act of king: you must choose a new regent to aid you in reigning. For I am aging and desire to withdraw to my estate. Shall we discuss this matter now?”

Henry did not speak loudly, he whispered timidly into Hardyng’s ear. No one could hear what the child king said, and so they too silently gossiping amongst themselves.

“The king has expressed the desire to be advised further on this matter,” Hardyng addressed the crowd. “No decision will be made now. Disperse now and return to your business.”

They all departed, however, William had the mind to visit Hadrian. And so he went up to the prison and there was met by a resolute guard post of two soldiers.

“Halt there, lad,” said one. “What business do you have here?”

“I come to see Hadrian,” replied William.

“Simple answer,” said the other guard. “However, we cannot just let anyone pass through on account of their desires. No sir!”

“I am Sir William of Colchester,” the knight spoke firmly. “The prisoner, Hadrian, is an old friend and I insist you allow me to have an audience with him!”

The two guards looked puzzled for a moment while still thinking over what William had said.

“A knight you say?” asked one.

“A friend of one of the prisoners you are?” asked the other. “You appear lordly and well-kept. I suppose we can allow you a few moments with the captive. Follow me then.”

One guard remained, while the other unlocked the outer prison door and led William in.

“Remind me who it is you seek, sir?”

“His name is Hadrian,” answered William

“Ah yes! The man accused of treason?”

William attempted to ignore those words but he also could not dispute them. Yes, his old friend and tutor was a criminal guilty of crimes against the crown.

“But why throw our friendship away so easily?” William asked himself out loud.

“What was that, sir?” asked the guard.

“Merely talking to myself, man,” replied William.

Mostly, the Tower’s prisons were empty and the few inmates there were sick and deathly ill. They were mentally unstable from their prolonged incarceration. However, there was one man among them who did not appear crazed and unstable; Hadrian huddled in the corner of his cell near the top of the Tower. William came to this cell and leaned against the iron bars. The shadowy figure in the darkened corner lifted its head and came towards the bars.

“My old friend?” Hadrian said with tears as his hands stretched out for William’s through the bars. “I am glad to see you! This is the only joy I’ve known for years.”

“It pains me to see you like this,” said William, grabbing hold of his friends callused and dirtied hands.

“Help me leave this place!” Hadrian pleaded through tears.

“You know this is impossible,” replied William. “I cannot pardon a man like a king can.”

“But you have Henry’s ears?” Hadrian sounded desperate. “And you are also close friends with Hardyng. Please! Go to them and their advisors and plead my case! Tell them I am loyal to Henry VI and desire to serve England again!”

“I desire this just as you do,” said William. “Though a Knight of the Garter I am, this is beyond my power. I cannot circumvent the law in any case.”

“Then why have you come hither?” Hadrian asked pulling his hands away. “Are we not friends, allies? Or stronger yet, brothers?”

“I still believe were are,” William replied with sorrow. “I came because of this. I desired to see you.”

“Nay!” yelled Hadrian. The guard nearby clenched his spear tightly. “We are not brothers! Not anymore. Leave me and never return.”

“I still care for you,” replied William. “And what you have taught me shall not be forgotten nor wasted.”

With this William departed with great depression. He returned to the Red Lion Manor where he was met with the stablemaster.

“Do you have further news of Donatello?” asked the knight.

“Nay, not yet, sir,” answered the stablemaster. “The horse now rests, but m’fraid you won’t be riding him for a long time, if ever again. I know a good horse is worth as much as land in these days and Sir Fastolf’s steeds, like this one, were among the best in England.”

“He is old now,” said William stroking the stallion’s long, dark mane. “I do not wish pain upon my good friend.”

“Then there is something you must know,” began the stablemaster. “I do not believe Donatello will recover. His age is too great and he has lived longer than most horses in his profession. If need be, I can make his passing swift and mostly painless.”

William nearly teared up hearing these words; he only nodded and departed for the manor. There he returned to the warmed hearth, which was his favourite room of the building. The strong fire crackled and popped, turning the room’s darkening corners to an orange hue. As William sat with a hand on his forehead and deep in thought, Rosabella came behind him and embraced her husband.

No words were spoken; for she sensed he was greatly distressed. With the next day, there came more politics and William was summoned before the king and his council, alongside many other knights.

“Sir William, come hither!” John Hardyng called out as the knight of Colchester entered the hall. “May I present Richard; cousin of Henry VI and my successor. He is next in line to be Duke of York.”

William bowed before Richard, showing respect for the man, as he was related to the king.

“You are known well in York, Sir William,” said Richard. “Many thanks are in order for your service and protection of my young cousin during the struggles against Henry V’s brothers.”

“My loyalty to king and country is strong,”  answered William.

“This is no secret!” exclaimed Richard patting William on the shoulder. “If anyone ever doubted your devotion they only need to learn of your travels to Poland, where you willingly faced danger to returned our king to his rightful place. I know I can count on you to be there again, should the throne need protection.”

“Listen here, all who have gathered!” the king's herald called out over the crowd’s commotion. “It is known John Hardyng of York has relinquished his office as regent. However, since King Henry is yet young, someone must be chosen to fill this vacancy until our ruler has developed more understanding of governance. Here is the king’s proclamation: Sir Walter will take this mantle and advise the king on government policies as regent of England!”

Murmurs spread throughout the crowd, but this was mostly a popular decision among those gathered. Then the king spoke up, though it was soft and his voice was childish and shaking.

“I know from what John Hardyng has told me, Sir Walter had served my father and I well,” he said as the crowd listened intently. “Because of this, I am certain Walter is a proper choice. This pronouncement is final and takes place immediately, as John Hardyng wishes to step down.”

“Richly said, for a child,” Borin whispered to William.

“He has been educated well by the finest teachers,” said William. “Methinks he will grow to be a wise king!”

“Indeed!” said Borin as the crowd began to depart. “Though I am still remorseful our friend, John Fastolf, cannot be here to instruct the boy.”

“As am I,” William said as he and Borin also began to exit the Tower. “I received a grand education from Fastolf… and also Hadrian.”

“Let us return to the Red Lion now,” said Borin. “We have work to do even as winter strengthens. The knight’s guild must be rebuilt now in order that we may provide King Henry with ample fighting men!”

“And we have promising young squires who will be great additions to the guild!” exclaimed William. “We will continue my father’s and Fastolf’s work!”

“With a king to rule us again I feel bolstered!” said Borin. “The fires of my smithy will burn to honour King Henry VI just as they did his father. May I lend my talent in aiding England’s security!”

Now as the two knights arrived at the manor there was a man waiting. He was dressed in Colcestrian garb and when William approached he bowed.

“Lord William,” he said. “I bring news from your home, though it bodes ill for you and your mother.”

“Speak,” William urged as he grew anxious and worried when hearing these words.

“I’m afraid your mother’s health has taken a sour turn,” continued the messenger. “She has sent me to fetch you and wishes for your quick return home.”

Without any more prompting, William hurried into the manor and began packing his belongings. Chandler saw this and aided his master, but Rosabella was confused and curious.

“Why the rush, dear William?” she asked. “Is your business here in London complete now?”

“Mother is sickly,” he replied as they gathered their possessions. “I do not know much but we must return to Colchester now!”

As the Colcestrians prepared for departure, Sir Walter arrived and entered the manor. He noticed the frantic attitude of the maids and servants and of William. Chandler exited, going out to the courtyard and towards the stables.

“What is this, Sir William?” asked Walter. “There must be an urgent matter which explains your eagerness.”

William did not answer, he only gave his friend a quick, but concerning look.

“Something has happened, my boy?” asked Walter. “As the new regent I will have need of all the realm’s knights, however, I see whatever ails you is urgent.”

“My mother’s health is poor,” William finally answered as they came close to departing.

“Then, of course, you must return home!” said Walter as the two knights walked out to the stables. “But you do know if your king should need your service, you cannot ignore the call?”

William nodded and turned to the stablemaster, who was prepared to help the knight before leaving.

“Here, sir,” said the horse-keeper handing reins to the knight. “You may take my horse; she is strong and nimble and will serve you well in Donatello’s absence. Nightingale is well-tempered too! You’ll not find a more friendly horse in all of Britain!”

Sir William reluctantly took hold of the grey spotted horse’s reins. He was saddened by having to leave his old friend behind. There was nothing to be done about it, and his mother awaited his arrival back home. And so, the Colcestrians departed the capital and headed to the northeast coast of Essex County.