The reconstructed face of   ~ King Richard III 1452 -- 1485 ~



                                                           PART THREE

                                                                    of


                                ~ The Awakening ~

                                                 





Due to the suffering and injuries King Richard had experienced, he was a little reluctant to describe his last battle. He spoke to us about his earlier life when he had to flee with his brother George to France. This he blamed for his condition, 'The bad Paris airs.'

He called me by my name for the first time.



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"Julia, tis true as you say and my wish is for all to be revealed. ~ So to be able to describe it, I will steele myself in no small fashion for ~ again ~ I must endure all that I have suffered."
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                              PART THREE


      ≈  The two sides of Richard ≈


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Sleep was difficult on that last night . Again I was troubled by fever and a night sickness. ~ I awoke with certain worries and memories of a dream, where my departed wife Elizabeth had bid me use caution today. This haunted me in those early hours, and as I lay in my bed. I can still remember how I listened to the birds call while sleep evaded me.

For the last time I arose to a clear sky that seemed to bid good fortune for our cause. I took some time in prayer, in my private chapel to receive the grace of God.

 I broke bread, then had my wine sops in solitude.

I was well used to being on campaign in past years. But now I had been King of England for two years and with all the feasting I undertook, I was not in good condition in spite of weekly sword practice. Only the anticipation of a quick victory occupied my mind. I had to finish Henry Tudor with all speed, my fears were of an extended fight and being forced to fight out of saddle.

Cheered by the thought that there was no need to kill the serpent's body, and all we needed to do was cut off it's head. ~ This would have bountiful rewards; A quick action to dispatch Henry would save so many good true Englishmen. Wives who waited would have their husbands back safe and in fair health.

Inside me today dwelt a sickness and 'tis true I appeared pale on that morning when I called that early meeting. My knights Sir John Buck, Sir Robert Brackenbury, Sir John Howard Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard Earl of Surrey and Henry Percy Earl of Northumberland all arrived out of armour due to the early hour. We spoke our minds and with the discourse we had, I truly believed my intentions were known within my command. Battle was nothing new to us all and I issued my orders .

Later, cartloads of cannons arrived, brought in haste from the tower, to be taken and chained in line with good array. These were dear to my heart and I did linger to confirm the sighting of these weapons.

Some small details spring curiously to mind. When my esquire fitted my armour I recall how easily my breast plate fitted and with some comfort. Work under my guidance had recently been carried out by the armourers at Greenwich Armoury. My armour was something of a problem to me and needed careful fitting due to my upper body shape ~ a necessary support that provided easement for my body.

I also remember that I did so enjoy the comfort of my new purple gloves. These were made of special chewed kid leather. I remember that I was to reward the maker at a later date.

I toured my troops upon horseback with my basinet removed ~ so they may gaze upon the face of their King and behold the truth of my words ~ I was received by many cheers. I did address them so...

"Good men of England we all salute you. By today's end with victory before you, ~ 'God Willing,' ~ you will be happy to return to your homes with little blood on your hands. ~ Henry Tudor is but a weakling and the cause of all ills in England today. With heads held high we will today dispel this menace and the traitors before him. Our cause is just, and, righteous before God."

They rallied forth, as they shouted and hailed their true King.
♦♦


It was late afternoon as we both nursed our coffee, we were seated at the table in the storeroom, prior to one of our meetings to contact Richard. I noticed that Claire had produced her black notebook, this led me to wonder, ~ something was in the air. She'll not mind me saying this, but she is an 'inveterate' note taker (goes with the job I suppose) and there is usually something afoot when 'that' book appears. She sucked on her old worn red pencil lost in thought.~ I waited.

"Julia, what do we know about Richard?" Claire looked at her open notebook.

I shrugged my shoulders, "I've read most of the books about him. Dunno really, I certainly don't trust that Shakespeare version of him, that physical description of him was way off the mark. Was he really murderous as well?"

This stirred her to comment and without raising her eyes, "There are references to his temper. He must have been aware that he was not popular in some quarters. Although there are conflicting, contemporary accounts, ~ I want to ask him." ~ Claire paused and changed tack.

"He has been charming to us and shown himself to be a good person. Perhaps there is more to learn about our Richard. I would like to ask him a couple of questions."

"What questions?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she scribbled something in that book.

I didn't pursue the point, she was my superior after all.

On this particular interview we got a reaction out of Richard that confirmed some of the accounts of his behaviour. Claire asked him two questions.

"Richard what were your feelings about the popular Henry Tudor? And what would you have done to him, had you ever met him on his own?"

I would never have agreed to those questions if Claire had asked me first.

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"Popular! ~ POPULAR! ~ What say you? If I had met him? ~ "IF I HAD MET HIM?" (shouting now) That Traitorous scum would have tasted the fine steel of my sword. If I had my hands on him I would murder him! Murder him! Murder him! Murder, Murder, Murderrrrrr himmmmm. (screaming). Down the gardrobe! Yes that's it dowwwwnnn the gardrobe. HANG TIL DEAD! ~ DEAD! ~ DEAD!...
♦♦

Out of control, his rants projected a mental picture of evil menace. Tantrums worse than any spoilt child. Unnerved we listened, ready to bolt from the room.

Then an electrical plug jumped out of a wall socket with a crack.

"Right that's it!" I almost shouted.

"Wait, don't leave me behind!" Claire screamed, as she fought me to be first out of the door. We had left the recorder running.

I phoned John, and a short time later he led us back into the room.

"There's nothing wrong with this," he said, as he replaced the electrical plug. The red light of the coffee machine came back on.

We thought it best to let Richard work off his anger by himself. And the next day he spoke to us as if nothing had happened...



( part 4 is next, a correction for below)