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



                                                               PART FOUR

                                                                       of

                                          ~ The Awakening ~




                                   
King Richard speaks...

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Fighting started in earnest about the eighth hour, when pike men on Henry's right flank advanced towards us skirting a large patch of marshland. I settled myself easy into my battle saddle ~ crossed myself then kissed my bible and handed it back to my chaplain . My humour darkened as always before battle, my anger towards Henry Tudor knew no bounds.

His Welsh pike men came under a hail of our arrows. Then the thunderous roar of my cannons started an uproar among that rabble. The whistle of the shot sounded like the wind and did tear multiple destruction of the enemy in a scattering of bloody limbs. ~ Checked now, their short lived charge melted back into disarray .

I saw my chance, and with sword held aloft ~ I signaled my mounted retinue of House Knights to charge ahead onwards towards his right flank. My intention was to steer around the marshland then turn directly towards the area where 'HE' that Traitorous Dog, sheltered in hiding. But, I made a disastrous mistake that fair morning. Determined and impatient to remove 'that 'Henry' once and for all. I should have waited for both our archers and cannon thus giving them more time to take effect, then, taken a much larger force with me.

Only a small patch of marshland separated us  ; I did watch and could see that he appeared to be greatly fearful. As he retched upon the earth and near to panic his bodyguard had to give a hand to him. On foot he walked mere yards from here to there, and wrung his hands in anguish. Here was a man of little or no battle training, his years in France spent in hiding and flight ~ not in fight. This spurred me to make even greater haste. My wish was to settle this traitor once and for all.

With full reign given to my horse ~ unleashed, it leaped forward into a full gallop. At the head of my retinue I charged towards Henry's bodyguard; a group of knights small in number. I was close to him now.

Hard trained was I by the best, to be fast, and, inventive with my long sword. ~ Two feints with my sword then one stroke of some force followed and William Brandon, Henry's standard bearer was quickly despatched with a cleft to his head,.

Sir John Cheyney, a giant of a man¹ who accompanied the standard bearer, sat mounted and faced me with his broad sword drawn and ready. His horse was nervous.

"Help me. --  Oh Lord!" His call muffled from behind his visor of steel.

"Ahhhh!"  His grunt of effort accompanied a 'swish' sound that passed close by my head. I had parried his sword and using the same movement followed through with a slash, this took my sword to his breast plate; dented by the force of my blow, he rolled back in his saddle. His horse reared up. As he fell forward with the horse, my sword swung again as I answered and I did thrust forward and sliced deep into his visor slit, with a resounding clang. Our short engagement ended when this traitor slid out of the saddle senseless upon the ground in a tangle with the standard of Henry now trodden into the mire.

A minor knight stood in my way ; with one stroke, my sword blow connected and disabled his sword arm. I had no time to dispatch them. They would pay later. I had bigger game in my sight. We were closing in on Henry now, and two more knights fell before my sword. By now I was within one sword length of 'that' traitor and barely harmed.

My left flank had thinned out in the race to reach Henry. Separated, we were on our own. Sir Stanley had been watching the battle and had refused to fight up until now. At this time he seized his chance to perform a cowardly attack at my weakest point, my left flank. His well trained men streamed in to attack. This gave Henry's guard time to re-group.

By now my retinue was cut off from all support. We were a group fighting on our own. ~ Our advance petered out as we fought to protect our rear. We were surrounded on three sides and vastly out numbered. To protect our right flank we had to retreat a short distance to the marshland. There we made our stand.

"Afore ye God we prove our mettle," I did but shout to my troops.
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During one of our pre - Richard meetings Claire said this to me.

"I believe that Richard could be guilty of murdering the two princes in the tower."

This statement didn't surprise me at all. By this time we were both very much involved with these revelations. I regarded myself as on the fence in my attitude towards Richard. His outburst on reflection didn't have as much significance to me, as it did to Claire.

"Claire, after over five hundred years he is going to need to let off a little steam. Can you imagine his feelings towards Henry Tudor after all this time?"

"I know Julia, but he did seem as if he could kill someone in a mad rage."

"Yes, yes, he could and did kill. He was a warrior King. The last in English history. He did kill in combat, and ordered several opponents to be executed. This was survival, kill or be killed. In this respect he was not without a blemish to his character."

I surprised myself at my depth of feelings about the subject. I knew that there were two opinions about Richard. My field of expertise embraced the Plantagenet period, of which we have still much to learn.

"I have to speak up because there are no accounts of Richard harming innocents, eg women, children and innocent people. Indeed he is recorded as being lenient and forgiving towards several of his enemies."

Our opinions were to lead to some interesting responses from him. I asked Claire to try and keep neutral in front of Richard and despite Claire's slight attitude, he seemed to trust us with his feelings. I didn't want to lose his co-operation.


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With but twenty good men left about me we had to fight in a fashion I had never intended. The bodies piled up as we fought for our lives. I had to be careful on horseback. We relied upon our archers who were loosing volley after volley at Stanley's men. Our horses started to fall to Welsh pikemen and soon our numbers did dwindle.

A forward pike-man approached me too close and his pike glanced off my breast plate with much force and a loud clang. He in return suffered his pike haft to be cast in twain by a stroke of my sword. I followed this with a well practiced fast return sweep, I leaned well forward and down, I twisted my wrist to give life and extra power to that sharp blade, his arm followed the haft in an eye's twinkle. His screams joined the battle noise, and the ground ran with blood.

Bloody and at a high price we edged ever nearer to that boggy ground. My House Knights arranged about me fought well, but we were hopelessly out numbered and cut off from my main forces.

Then disaster ~ a pike inflicted a deep wound into the hind quarters of dear 'WHITE SYRIE'~ my magnificent palomino horse. This caused him to scream, rear up, and jump deep into the marsh. ~ WE WERE STRANDED ~ I was greatly saddened to see him suffer in such manner, a creature worth ten of the traitorous scum before us. In normal times it would be merciful to end its suffering. This could not be considered on this sad day.

My training held me together, because otherwise this would have maddened me. With my mount lying on its side I was stranded with one leg trapped, stuck in the mire due to my leg armour. The rush was such that there was no time or way to undo my leather securing straps.
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Richard's description of the beginning where his horse became bogged down was an accumulation of several attempts by him to describe it. We gained the impression that he was definitely attached to that horse in a similar way that we would be to a family pet. So at a further meeting I asked him if I had touched a raw nerve with a question about his horse (actual words used). He showed a change of mood and humour, with this answer.


♦♦
"This horse, a favourite of mine was gifted to me by the King of France years before and since then much trained ~ I lost a good friend that day...

You touched not my nerve as much as I wish to touch your duckys [breasts]. I jest in the way of my court, though tis true this was rarely uttered by myself. And only when I had a fair lady of good issue to address, such as yourself."
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Spoken as a complement from a bygone age, I indicated that he made me blush.


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"I can see that changes over time are few in these matters..."
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To be continued in part 5.



Part one indicted below is incorrect...