Crown of Blood | The White Princess

Prologue

23rd of August, 1485, Grafton, Lisbet is 10...

Edmund, Elizabeth, Edward, Margaret, Cecily, Mary.

They were all sons and daughters of York.

The children of King Richard III and Queen Marian of Lancaster, the two mightiest monarchs (in their opinion) that England had even known. They had gone away to war to fight off the enemy known to the children simply as 'The Tudor' to make their rule secure once more and then their family could be reunited, returning happily to their beloved home in Yorkshire : Middleham Castle.

Anxious to hear news of their parents, the children had been waiting on the walkway to Grafton Manor all morning until their Aunt (the dowager Queen of England, Elizabeth Woodville) had ordered them to go out into the fields for the afternoon, assuring them that they would be the first to know if any news came.

༒༒༒

"Sing for us, Lisbet..." Meg yawned lazily as she stretched out upon one of the blankets she and her siblings had laid out in the fields behind Grafton.

Lisbet glanced at her younger sister, smiled as the others looked at her encouragingly.
"Yes! Yes!" Little Mary (the youngest at only 3) cooed, toddling over to Lisbet and crawling into her arms, giggling happily, her blonde curls bouncing. She was the fair one of the decidedly dark family.
"I do not think I should" the older girl said and the others laughed.

"Of course you should, Lisbet!" Edmund called from where he and Edward were playfully sparring with their swords while their little sister, Cecily, watched on. "Do you not think Lisbet should give us a song, Cece? What about you, Ned?"
9 year old Ned nodded enthusiastically, grinning and he bounded over to the blankets, quickly followed by the other two.

"Yes, go on Lisbet! Sing the one papa taught us when we were little! The one in that funny language!"
"You mean Summer is Icumen in?" She asked. Ned nodded.
"Oh, fine! If it is what you want!"
"It is!" The all shouted.

Clearing her throat a little, Lisbet closed her eyes, letting the gentle summer breeze brush across her face as she began to sing in her soft, sweet voice...

"Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweþ sed
and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu
Sing cuccu

Awe bleteþ after lomb
lhouþ after calue cu
Bulluc sterteþ
bucke uerteþ
murie sing cuccu

Cuccu cuccu
Wel singes þu cuccu
ne swik þu nauer nu

Sing cuccu nu • Sing cuccu.
Sing cuccu • Sing cuccu nu"

By the time the song ended, all had fallen silent, smiling happily as they lay back on the blankets and gazed up at the sky. The song reminded them of their home, Middleham, and the happy memories they shared there. Of course they found Westminster Palace in London (which had been their main residence for the past two years) to be pleasant enough, nothing could compare to the wild moors, mountains, valleys and streams they loved so much.

"Pretty song" Mary whispered as she gazed up at her sister who giggled.
"When papa is back from the war" she said "I shall get him to sing you it for he is far better than I!"
"We shall be home soon?"
"Yes, little one, we shall be home soon..."

"Cousins!"
The children's heads jerked up to see their cousin Cecily running towards them, a smile on her face
"There is a messenger coming!" She panted as she reached them.

The siblings looked at each other before scrambling up from the blankets and running back across the field as fast as their young legs could carry them, Edmund, Lisbet and Ned tearing ahead of the rest.

As they reached the manor, they raced through and finally reached the stone bridge at the front entrance; saw that their cousin had been right, there was a messenger coming for he was riding at breakneck speed towards them, the badge of the white rose on his blue and murrey livery.

By the time he reached Grafton, the other children had arrived and most of the household had gathered outside to hear what news the messenger held.

Looking around the crowd, his eyes momentarily settled on the children before he looked away and cleared his throat.

"There was a battle at Bosworth yesterday morning, the 22nd of August, in this year of our Lord, 1485...York was defeated...good King Richard and Queen Marian are dead..."