~In Our Hands~

18th of August, 1484, Ripon....

Three days riding had brought them to Ripon (their numbers swelled and spirits high), a town where Richard and York was beloved, the perfect point for more men to join them, despite meaning they travelled south instead of across the country where they intended to draw the enemy. Still it was firmly in the north.

Soon they would travel back north and across England towards Helmsley. It was good ground Richard and his men had agreed, a good place to draw the bastard to.

But that day, all eyes were upon Ripon as the cathedral bells pealed and people lined the streets, cheering themselves hoarse as the higher ranks of the army (the rest in the surrounding fields) paraded through the city, their King at the front in dazzling golden robes - bareheaded. He would not be for long.

The morn of the 16th, Richard and Constance had sent word on to the town to prepare for the coronation of their King, an event that would reap much sweet fruit. Now, the Archbishop of York, Thomas Rotherham (hastily fetched from his post) stood waiting within the great cathedral walls, Edward's crown held by a priest on a cushion beside him. It would have been easier to have had her brother Charles crown him but they decided it was best for the King of England to be crowned by an Englishman.

Charles understood, he'd even agreed.

The townspeople appeared to have never experienced such a state of glee and Constance couldn't hide her smile at their flailing arms that begged a glance from her son, the enthused calls of "King Edward! Our captain!" and "Our hero is returned! Our King come to save us!" that hailed him as their saviour. He received the floods of attention as if it were second nature, waving back and nodding to men that removed their caps and bowed their heads as he passed, winked at pretty girls that curtsied, grinning every yard.

She saw in him his Father and knew they would too. Their warrior. Their King. The golden York boy that smiled like an angel and would set all to rights. All the more reason to show him off as such, she thought! Already she'd become privy to the day's bounty! Glancing to Richard - who rode at her side behind the King - she raised her eyebrows, inclined her head toward the boy before them as if to say "You see that? That's Ned! He's come back from the grave for another day of adoration!"

Richard raised his own eyebrows.
"I know!" They said, it was easy to believe, and then they both returned their gazes to the front, riding up the steep hill that led to the cathedral steps where Edward nimbly dismounted. The people followed, clamouring for his attention, not an objecting face in sight. Upon the freshly swept steps he stood, feet apart, shoulders squared, and waved, beaming while his nobles filed inside.

Constance squeezed his arm as she passed.

Inside, the roar of the crowd was overtaken by the demonstrative strikes of the bells. Now it was the angels who called for him, she thought as she walked down the aisle with Richard and Marie at her side. At the end before the alter (and a throne that had been hurriedly found) stood the Archbishop in his bejewelled cope and mitre and the priest with her son's crown, just as she'd envisioned. They crossed themselves before him.

Stepping onto the raised platform, they settled to the side, watching as the nobles did the same in their pews - standing. They were not entirely full but well over half were occupied and she wagered that by the end of the week there would be fights for a seat! Men and their masters continued to join them each and every day. She went to bed with their oaths of fealty ringing in her ears, woke to hear them all over again from different lips.

Edward's force was strong. He was strong. This would make him stronger still.

Rolling back her shoulders with a deep breath, she moved to brush down her skirts. She was not as splendidly dressed as she would have liked to be for such an occasion but she supposed it didn't matter. No one cared whether she wore cloth of gold instead of the blue velvet gown trimmed with silver thread - though it would make a more spectacular sight for memory. Such garments would have to wait.

Soon, flanked by two other priests whom he was at least a head above, Edward came through the great doors in all the splendour she did not have, surrounded by the voices of the choir that sung for him. Head held high, he walked towards the Archbishop with purpose but retained dignity, his eyes fixated upon the alter, upon his crown and God.

He knelt before him, now humble, and crossed himself with slender but strong fingers, his nobles and kin followed, and then the Archbishop made the sign of the cross over him.

He began his solemn sermon, gazing out across those gathered, detailing the lineage of the boy before him, declaring his right to rule in the eyes of the law and God. Then his attention turned to Edward. He asked the boy if the church of God and all the people would hold true peace under his rule, if he would forbid all acts of robbery and iniquity and if he would uphold justice and mercy in all his judgements. These were the promised of the King of England. He replied to each with a resounding "Yes".

His Mother smiled.

Prayers were said, "Amen"s rung to the rafters, there was no holy oil to anoint him with but he had something almost as important - if not more. The true crown of England's Kings. The Archbishop moved to take it, to lay his hands upon the bejewelled metal and place it upon Edward's head. He was about to. Then Constance stepped forward.

She held out her hand.
It would be she who placed the crown upon her son's head. She could see the Archbishop hesitate, looking at her with surprise but she remained firm.

He had spoken his sermon, blessed his King, why should she not be the one to place the crown upon his head? While she was not a man of the cloth the people loved her better than any priest or bishop and in any case, he would receive a proper coronation in London in the wake of their victory. Yes, this day she would crown her son, she would show all present that he was his Father's son, from her body borne and in the late King's stead she crowned the new.

At last, the old man offered it to her and she gripped its golden arches in triumph, the high of power flooding her veins as she turned towards her son to see the eyes of his nobles upon her.

Her son's blue ones were upturned towards her, gazing with an innocent smile that returned her sweet boy to her for a moment - and betrayed the slightest of nerves.

"This is for you, my love" She longed to say when he bowed his head, offering himself to her approval "This is all for you and I swear by all the saints none shall take it". But instead she only smiled and took a step forward, transferring the crown to both hands, feeling its majestic weight which his Father had borne for so long. She remembered how he used to crick his neck when he removed it after a long day, rolling back his muscled shoulders with powerful ease.

'It's yours now' Her gaze told her son as she lowered it onto his head 'Your burden to bear and mine. Do not let its weight crush you' Heavy gold was set determinedly onto a halo of golden hair, Constance gripping its sides as if she could channel the strength she had into him and his reign. When she finally released it, she took a confident stride back and sunk into a curtsy, letting her skirts pool around her for a firm moment before she rose and looked out towards Edward's men.

He stood, turned towards them with a hand on the hilt of his dagger.

"Behold your King, Edward the Fifth of England! God save the King!" She cried. Her words were immediately returned to her, enthusiastically roared as men went down onto one knee before him, Marie curtsying beside her Uncle.

"God save the King!" They all chanted "God save the King!"

As Constance looked out at the crowd, she almost wished to see Elizabeth's face, to watch the colour drain from it as hers had done when she saw Arthur crowned, and fear seep into her soul. She would see her soon enough, she reminded herself and then the bitch would truly be at her mercy. She would not give it.

Returning her gaze to her son, she joined the crowd in their riotous acclaim, feeling her heart skip happily when the bells began to peal again.
'My son is the King' She thought 'And God help those who try to take him from me'

༻᯽༺

"It is not what we would want but he shall have another when we get to London" Constance murmured to Richard as they watched man after man come before Edward on his throne and bend the knee to him; swear their everlasting fealty to their King. Morning had bled into late afternoon and now it was not the nobility that came before him but the people who clearly thought him a golden God and could barely conjure words!

Edward only smiled at their nerves, leaning forward to pat them on the shoulder or warmly clasp the hands they offered up to him, even kiss the brow of a babe or two. He'd even risen from his throne to aid an old man that stumbled on the dais steps, waving away the guards that instantly sought to surround him and helping the man to his feet.

Such familiarity broke the royal rules he'd been taught since birth, the sturdy wall that must always remain between a King and his people that he'd scaled and jumped over as if it were the most normal thing in the world! His Father was one to do the same with his subjects, Constance thought, and they would love her son all the more for it as they'd loved him.

"Be not afraid, friend" He told them when they trembled and asked their names; smiled merrily at the answers and thanked them for their fealty. News would spread of his affability and endear him further to his subjects - just what he needed. More fruit to pluck.

"It will give credit to our campaign and reassure the people, perhaps sway more to join us"
"Hm" Richard agreed, watching his nephew with a degree of pride that almost matched hers "It certainly lends a more regal reputation to him and his cause. Above all, it will shake our enemies. Particularly Arthur"

"Precisely. To know that another can be crowned in his own lands and none raised a hand to stop it? To hear that my son was cheered through the streets, hailed a hero and the people cried his name, called him their captain?" She was tempted to laugh "He is now not only King by right but truly in God's eyes, crowned before his people with his Father's crown - the true crown of the King's of England, not the tin hat Arthur dons. If the fear of God hadn't been struck into that bastard already, he'll certainly feel it now."

"And we'll be all the better for it"

༻᯽༺

That night, Markenfield Hall....

Constance's palm rocked against her forehead as her quill scratched out the last curling words in her letter onto the cream parchment before her. Her ears hurt, still ringing with the people's yells.

It had been nice to retreat to Markenfield hall for the night, the home of Richard's friend Sir Thomas Markenfield - whom he said should be made High Sheriff of Yorkshire when the fighting was done and had been among the first to kneel at Edward's feet at his coronation.

She was certainly inclined to grant him such a post after she learned of the trouble he'd been stirring up around Ripon for the Woodvilles the past months! Edward would surely agree.

He was a more than pleasant host, thirty seven years of age with flaxen hair about his shoulder and a clean shaven chin; a merry smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He'd raised one hundred and fifty men of Ripon for his King and sought to give Edward every comfort. He'd prepared a fine feast for the King and his kin upon their return from the coronation three miles away and given up his own chambers so that his King might sleep comfortably in the best rooms of the house!

Now he sat in the solar with Edward, Richard, John Neville and her two brothers, playing cards and drinking wine and talking of revels of the past.

She'd excused herself after the delights of dinner (as had Marie) and retreated to her own chamber where a desk, quill, parchment and ink awaited her undivided attention.

Her task now completed, she lay down the quill and sat back in her chair with a sigh, watching the courtyard lights through the diamond panes of her window and listening to the muffled laughter of men's merriment below. Her fingers traced the grooves of her locket.

"Ma Mére?" The door creaked open, revealing her daughter. Constance smiled. The locked dropped back beneath her neckline.
"Ah Marie!" She greeted, beckoning her into the room "It has been a fine day has it not?"
"Indeed" Marie replied, closing the door behind her "I believe it has set many a mind at ease"

"But there is still much work to be done" She gestured to the parchment before her "Paramount at this moment is the business of having your sisters brought to me"

Marie frowned, folding her arms as she leant against the wooden desk beside her.
"My sisters?" She repeated with a tilt of the head "But they are at Middleham-"

"And too far away from me!" Constance returned, fingers flexing on the arms of her chair "Marie, I find I cannot have them from my sight, far from the reach of my arms and protection. It has weighed upon me since the moment we left. While Middleham may be the strongest castle in the North and is now liberated we were still held there, they were still held there and the land is all but empty of its men. It was a mistake to leave them"

"Would it not be a risk to have them brought to you? What if they were taken?" Marie reasoned but of course her Mother had already thought of that.

"I will send men to fetch them, good men, Richard's men and have their path watched by scouts. They will join up with Cecily's force of two hundred she's sending to us. If things were to go awry I will not be separated from them and I swear to you I will die before my children are taken from me by that witch again. I will be no use to Edward if my mind is always consumed by worry for them and he needs me. And I need them. I have written the letter of their summons" Constance picked up the parchment, brandishing it before putting it back down "I will send it once we are finished here"

"Do I disturb you?"
She looked to her daughter, sighed again, and smiled.

"Not at all" She shook her head "Never"
"Then, ma Mére, may I ask you something?" Constance shifted in her seat turning her body towards her.
"Anything, little love!"
"Do you still love Papa?"

Oh.

"More than anything in the world"
Marie sighed herself and pushed away from the desk, pacing behind her Mother's chair. Constance stood, a frown fluttering across her lips.
"And you say so with such certainty and conviction and yet...." She came to a halt - lowered her voice "you lie with another. Dickon"

Oh....

Constance's eyes grew wide as saucers and she pushed her chair to the side, staring at her daughter in disbelief with a sheen of panic.

"What?" She gasped, glancing at the door then back to her "H-how do you know?" There would be no use in lying, Marie would be able to tell if she was and it was more than clear she knew at least some facts.

"I am no fool, though the two of you are not obvious, I suppose it was luck in a sense. Dickon confirmed it" She'd spoken to Richard about it? If there was ever a time she needed the Lord more than she would in the coming battle, it was now! "I have spoken with him on the matter. I am not angry, please do not think I am" Constance could only watch, barely believing what was happening "I was perhaps for a minute or two when I discovered it but now? Now I only wish to ask and for you to answer. I thought you would still be deep in grief for Father"

"Had things been different I would have been" She said. Marie sat down upon the bed behind her, wrapping an arm around the nearest carved post "I would be locked in a chapel day and night praying and sobbing, sobbing and praying, but circumstances forced me into a different path. With such danger as we were faced with I realised I could not remain trapped in my own world of darkness, I had to push my grief aside to keep our family safe, your little sisters safe, to plot your brother's return and keep us all alive as I did so!"

There had been barely enough room to breathe in sanctuary, let alone dwell on tears forevermore. Katherine had shown her that, dear Katherine....

Shaking her head, she leant back against the desk, her hands clutching its polished edges. She let herself breathe for a moment before continuing.

"I had to drag myself to life, claw onto the strength I had! Such overwhelming grief would not have served me or your siblings; our people! And with the banishment of the greatest of my sorrow, a void was left, a wound unhealed and bleeding. I have shed tears enough to fill an ocean and yet they could not fill the abyss within me for half of my soul is gone. In my unhappiness, what was left of my heart searched for comfort I think and over time the closeness I shared with Dickon grew into desire. I did not seek it, nor intend it, but we were drawn together like two pieces of driftwood and clung to one another in what felt like the only spark of life this earth had left to give" She gave a small shrug, a small, hesitant smile "We can trust one another, seek refuge in one another! It feels so easy between us, we understand one another utterly and completely"

"Then you understand his feelings towards you?" Good God how much did the girl get out of her Uncle?

"I know he loves me" Constance replied "he told me so himself" Then came the shame in her gut, the guilt that ate at her every so often, whenever she caught a particular look in Richard's eyes that said there was no one and nothing in his world but her "He loves me more than I love him" She could only whisper her admission.

Marie's breath caught in her throat.
"So you do....love him then, ma Mére?" Her voice was soft, almost childlike, void of her confident maturity.

"In my own way" How could she not? "He makes me happy, he knows what makes me laugh, what makes me sad, how to bring a smile to my lips even if I am in tears! He treats the girls with such affection and will do the same with your brothers! Edward already looks up to him as a second Father! He is good and he is gentle and he is devoted. I know that I can always trust him"
"In ways you could not trust Papa?"

Her head shot up again.

"Please do not think for one moment that I lie with Dickon to spite your Father and his infidelities to me!" She begged, at her side and kneeling at her skirts in an instant. She grasped her free hand "Richard is safety, Marie, and am I not allowed to want for that after a life spent without it? I desire him. I desire him and I love him, just not in the way I love Edward which shall perhaps change in time to something akin to it, though it can never be the same. I do not have another half of my soul to give. He understands that"

She shook her head "Do not think I don't mourn your Father, that he is not always in the back of my mind. I speak to him almost every day in my head and out loud. Sometimes in tears" There were tears welling in her eyes that very moment.

"sometimes in laughter when I think of something he would've said as I observe the life around me! I sit. I sit and sit and sit if ever I am alone and think of him, of his smile, his eyes, he had such beautiful eyes; the morn we first entered London and he braided my hair for me! When he brought me an orange to my confinement because he knew I craved them, how he looked at me when I freed him from Warwick, how proud he was when I secured the Burgundian trade deal with Duke Charles in our exile, the way he received each living child I gave him with such pure joy no matter whether it was a boy or girl! I relive the days of our love almost every moment and I mourn his loss. I mourn him, I rant and rage at him, I weep for him, I damn him, I bless him! I want him to return to me so badly, to feel his arms around me just one last time! I do not know what I shall do when we return to London" The tears were free now, sliding down her cheeks "for I do not think I can bear the sight of his grave...."

"And what of Dickon?" Marie whispered, crying also "Are you to remain lovers forevermore?"

"I do not know" Constance sighed, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her free hand - sniffing. And it was true, she did not know. She didn't know a lot of things about the future, least of all her own heart and mind apart from their dedication to her children "All I know is he will always hold a place of such strong affection in my heart and I cannot bear to be without him in my life, lovers or friends. Once Neddy is returned to the throne I do not think there shall be much time for ardour, or in the years to come. I think once all is settled I shall slowly be able to mourn your Father properly and when I emerge from such times, if there is one man on Earth I could ever think to possibly give my hand and heart to it would be Richard"

Her little love nodded again, fresh tears tumbling down her cheeks as she blinked and squeezed her Mother's hand.

"He is a good man to choose, Mama"
And Constance drew her down into her arms.