Viscount William Hart paces a grand bed chamber from one end to another. In one hand is a piece of parchment, in the other is an unsealed envelope stamped with the kings own coat of
arms. He is dressed in the finest, silver jerkin which is slightly askew due to his frantic pacing. Viscountess Elizabeth Hart sits in a dark corner as though to seem invisible. She is young
and beautiful but the stress of her life has cast a wizened look in her eyes. She watches William, she seems calm yet there is an air of nervous energy surrounding her. William stops pacing and
reads the letter again. He notices Elizabeth and thrusts the letter at her. Elizabeth scans the letter and gently places it on the table. William eyes her closely then turns to the mirror to
examine his face. He is handsome and around twenty five years old. The thin lines around his eyes and mouth suggest he usually has a ready smile and that the negative way he is acting is not usual
to his character. He sets about wiping away the sweat from his face and correcting his
Whilst he is at this Elizabeth
reaches for the letter. She strokes the name signed at the bottom with her finger, casts a glance at William then kisses the kings seal on the envelope. William sees her through the mirror. He
charges over and slaps her round the face. Elizabeth gasps in shock and puts her hand up to her cheek. She looks at him proudly and defiantly with no trace of shame or guilt. “It’s not a love token
you brazen hussy” he shrieks, pulling the letter from her. Elizabeth flares up in agitation, “The king loves me William.” William shakes his head in disgust. “You are married to me. You can be his
slut if that’s what you want. I can’t stop the king from taking you to his bed but you are mine in name. That I have at least.”
Elizabeth sits herself back down, opposite William. “Have you read the letter? The King wants to
marry me. He has asked you to meet him because our marriage is to be annulled.” William says nothing but his hands are shaking violently ready to strike out in anger. “I am carrying the king’s
child. He says he will not father another bastard.” William jumps up, “I do not want to hear this. On what grounds can our marriage be declared void? It was in a church. The kings own minister
conducted it.” Elizabeth sighs. She can’t meet Williams’s eyes as she deals her final blow, “our marriage was not consummated.” Williams face drains of colour, he is in shock. “Liar” he bawls
discarding the letter into the fire. He then takes off his wedding ring and discards this into the fire. “Please don’t William” cries Elizabeth. Ignoring her cries, he roughly pulls the ring off
her finger and throws this into the fire also.
He then looks to the clock, pulls on his silver doublet, and heads to the door.
Just as he reaches it he hesitates, then turns to Elizabeth. He walks to her slowly not taking his eyes from her face. When he reaches her, he takes her hands and looks into her face pleadingly.
Elizabeth looks back and for a moment there is no certainty to her reaction. She then shakes her head and pulls her hands away. William leaves with a slam of the door.
William enters his bed chamber. He looks towards Elizabeth sat in the same place as though she has not moved but beside her are two bundles obviously containing her belongings. He opens a
door leading to another of their private rooms and beckons for a servant to enter. He nods to the two bundles and the servant picks them up. “Take them to my lady’s new chambers, and then return
immediately.” Elizabeth stands and looks as though she wants to talk to William but he shakes his head and walks to a table holding a jug of wine. He pours a glass and drinks. He then turns back
and sees Elizabeth still waiting. He waves at her as though to suggest that she should not still be there, then turns to pour another glass. Elizabeth remains for a moment longer watching him then
leaves the room followed by the servant. William then turns with tears streaming down his face. He sinks into a chair and releases a howl of heart break and anguish.
William enters the office. The king is sat at a large mahogany desk. He is reading a letter which he moves to the side when he notices Williams presence. “Come William.” He stands and
puts out his arm. William bows deeply and kisses the kings ring. “Sit” says the king pointing to a chair opposite the desk. William complies and looks towards the king with a questioning
expression. “We are at war William. The scots are out of control and they need putting down.” William says nothing waiting for the king to say more. “How is you wife? Your son is a fine young man.
He must be what sixteen now?” William nods, “ yes sir. He is. My wife is very well. She did not fancy court this summer and is residing in our country house.” The king smiles, “oh to be able evade
court. A privilege I sometimes beg god to grant me.” William nods but does not reply. The king sighs. “You are a good fighter William. I asked you here because I need your help. My son Henry is now
eighteen years old. He is a fine warrior and he is going to head the army against the scots. Will you fight for us.” William is silent. He looks to the king not giving his thoughts away. The king
clears his throat but waits for William to answer. “My father and my grandfather before him have gladly fought for the king and country” says William. The king nods his head. They stare at each
other for a moment and the king shifts uncomfortably under Williams gaze. He is the first to look away. William stares for a moment longer then stands up to leave. “Your answer William?” says the
king getting up from his desk. William carries on towards the door, then turns and bows to the king. “I will sir”
Queen Elizabeth sits at a dressing table. A maid brushes her long auburn hair. Elizabeth sighs. “I think the king has taken a new mistress Margaret.” The maid Margaret meets the queens eyes
in the mirror. “I know your majesty.” Elizabeth jumps up in anger. “You know? Does everyone know? Am I the laughing stock of court again.” Margaret does not reply. She places the brush down on the
table. “I’ve been a laughing stock for the past eighteen years so I don’t know why I’m getting angry now” says Elizabeth in anguish. “No your majesty, we do not laugh at you.” Elizabeth smiles,
“you’re a sweet girl Margaret but I know everyone thinks me an ignorant fool. But I am not. I see what’s happening, I know he takes others to his chamber but I do not say anything.” Elizabeth has
started to cry. She throws herself back down on a chair. “I am so miserable in this life. i wish…” she does not finish her sentence but Margaret gives her a knowing look and commences brushing her
hair. “But at least I have my son to make me happy” says Elizabeth calming herself. “The king has at least given me my beautiful son. And for that I can never hate him.”
William awakes and for a moment he cannot remember why he is in such pain. He then lifts himself up and winces. There is a small blade wedged in his leg. He utters, “one, two, three” under
his breath and with a loud moan he pulls the blade out. He takes a shirt from a body lying nearby on the ground and tears it to form a makeshift bandage which he wraps around his wound. Now he is
less groggy his eyes fall on the devastation around him. Men lie dead everywhere. The moans and cries that had echoed through the air as he had passed out were now gone. The silence is eery. He
notices a large fire burning in the distance and gets unsteadily to his feet. As he limps and stumbles his way towards the fire he wonders how many live. He almost dreads reaching the fire because
then he will know and this knowledge would be sickening.
As he nears he can see around eighty men all dressed in the kings coated armour. Most lie injured on the floor but they are alive and this thrills William. He starts to pick up pace. When he
reaches the fire a man hurries towards him. “Oh William thank god. I was almost giving up hope that anyone else would come.” William embraces him. “Where have the live scots gone?” He asks taking a
large sip of water from the flask offered. “Most are dead. We’ve captured nine live ones and took them to the nearest manor house. I’d say another twenty perhaps got away and are hiding in the
forest.” William nods “I need sleep Cecil I can’t think straight with this head on my shoulders.” Cecil looks panicked, “you can’t William. We cannot find henry, the king’s son. Anyone who is able
has to search for him.” William moans but sets down the flask. “Okay I’ll start now then.” Cecil offers him a coat but he shakes his head. “You need to find him William. If he is lost or… He is the
king’s only heir.” William smiles, “don’t worry we’ll find him.” And he sets
He limps all over the field examining bodies that resemble the prince and calling out his name. From time to time he comes across other
searches and is gratified to god when they are people that he cares for. But there is no sign of Henry. He is very wary and knows he cannot carry on searching until he has had some rest so he
resignedly makes his way back to the makeshift came. Just as it is coming into sight a hand grasps his leg. William abruptly stops and looks down.
Lying on the floor, his eyes only half open and his face gashed and bloody is the prince. Henry kneels down and feels his face. “My chest hurts, I can hardly breathe.” Henry’s voice is soft and
rasping. William pulls the red soaked clothes off his torso. His hand goes to his mouth and he coughs and wretches at the sight of henry bloody chest. “Is it bad?” asks henry as William starts to
wrap more makeshift bandages around the wounds. “Don’t speak sir. I’m sure it’s not fatal. Now I must leave you alone for a minute while I get help and more bandages.” The ones he has already used
are quickly becoming red. “Please don’t go William; I don’t want to be alone. I’m dying.” He doesn’t say this with any hint of sadness only certainty and resignation. William is shocked, “don’t say
so sir. You are a strong man. You are too much needed to die. I a bitter old man should take your place.” Henry laughs softly, “please can you tend my left shoulder. I think a blade resides there.”
William does what he asks, removing a small blade and mopping up the blood. Suddenly he stops his face mesmerised.
He starts to scrubs as hard as he can at small patch on the prince’s shoulder. “That’s not blood William that’s my birth stamp.” William stops rubbing at the mark and studies Henry’s face. He then
pulls off his blooded clothes and points to an identical mark on his own shoulder. Henry is confused. And then suddenly his face start to show understanding. “You were once married to my mama were
you not?” William nods, “aye for nearly two years.” Henry again smiles “why my mother’s an old con.” He chuckles shaking his head in disbelief. “Well at least she’s got my father back for all his
whores.” But then his briefly amused expression quickly changes to one of immense pain. William shakes his head, “No Henry you cannot die.” He is starting to cry and henry reaches out a hand to
wipe away his tears. “You were to be called William after me and my father before” Says William still crying. “My first born son” he whispers as Henry takes his hand. “I wasn’t here for you. I
haven’t been a father.” “You didn’t know William. I’ve been happy as a prince you couldn’t have given me more. And you’re here with me now. I don’t have to die alone on a battle field.” William
nods and takes his weak and dying son in his arms. They lie like this for hours until William falls asleep. When he awakes Henry is dead in his arms.
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