Wales 1471

Edward Lancaster, Prince of Wales, Edward of Westminster since the Yorkist uprising, shifted uneasily in his saddle as he surveyed the situation. It had been only days since he’d landed in Wales along with his wife and mother. It seemed as if civil war had gripped his kingdom, brother came up against brother in this clash. “The War of the Roses” some called it, undoubtedly referring to the symbols utilized by the houses of York and Lancaster. 

Not since the days of Harold and William the Conqueror had Albion experienced such a massive dynastic conflict and for as long as Edward could remember he’d been embroiled in it. His father, a weak man by all accounts had signed over his birthright to Richard Duke of York triggering this horrendous conflict. Rumor had it that indeed he’d been restored to the throne by their former enemy Richard Neville, the Duke of Warwick. How ironic, Edward thought our only hope of victory lies in one who was our enemy until not too long ago…

Indeed Warwick’s clash with the House of York couldn’t have come at a better time for his family. The scales of Fortune had finally tipped in Lancaster’s favor and this time it was Edward of York who was forced to flee. Yet the House of York was one of ambition and would not linger in a state of defeat, they too had returned to the White Isle and clamored once again to attain the throne of England. Warwick had been forced to abandon London by all reports and his Father had been re-imprisoned in the Tower.

Now Warwick marched east to join his troops with the army accompanying Edward. If he could avoid battle with the Yorkists long enough for their two forces to unite they just might have a chance at defeating the usurpers. 

That was if he decided to join up with them.

At 17 Edward was no longer the child his mother, like so many others treated him as. He’d grown up fighting in this bloody struggle for the throne. He knew that the alliance between Richard Neville and his mother Margaret of Anjou was nothing more than an alliance of convenience. If an opportunity presented itself to advance the cause of the Neville family, Warwick would undoubtedly take it leaving the fortunes of the House of Lancaster to the cruel winds of fate. Even the presence of Warwick’s daughter Anne, now Edward’s wife was little consolation and little guarantee of Warwick’s loyalty.

Unconsciously, Edwards’s eyes drifted over to his wife of only a few months. Anne Neville had agreed to accompany her husband and mother in law on their expedition to regain the throne of England. Now she rode along with the ramshackle army, her golden hair flowing over her shoulders down her back and contrasting greatly with the black hide of her horse. 

She’s so innocent, Edward thought she’s like I was, so many years ago. She doesn’t deserve this… I don’t deserve this. How often had he wished in the dark of night he’d not been born as the Prince of Wales but a simple farmer? How often did he wish that he could simply run away and leave behind the world of nobility? Yet, he had no choice, perhaps his mother was right, perhaps he had been born for such a time as this. His only choice was to fight on, and cling to the hope of victory. Then if the Almighty chose to smile upon the House of Lancaster he could win a better life not only for himself, but for his wife, a fair maiden who had done nothing to be sentenced to such a life. 

“Sire!” a short shout from behind him caused Edward to turn and see none other than Arthur Smythe approach. Ever since his family fled London, Smythe had become Edward’s constant companion, protecting him from the assassin’s blade until he was old enough to be taught how to fight. Arthur had taught him everything he knew and been a constant companion. Few men knew the Prince of Wales in the way that Arthur knew him. 

As Arthur came up beside him, Edward slid his visor up and spoke “What news from my mother?”

“None my lord,” Arthur replied “I came to see how you were doing.”

“What did I do to be condemned to such a time as this?”

“Now, now my lord!” Arthur replied in a way only Arthur could do “No one wishes to live in times like this! We can only make the best of the time that’s been given to us. You must remember Edward, there’s more at work here in England than the forces of evil. Indeed, I dare say that there are larger forces at work here. Forces that see the injustice done to your family and will see everything righted.”

Stunned, Edward simply nodded “Thank you Arthur.”

Arthur simply smiled “I guess this will be you’re first real battle milord.” He said continuing the conversation “are you nervous?” 

“If I wasn’t wouldn’t something be wrong?”

Arthur simply chuckled “I guess there would, Just remember everything I taught you and you’ll be alright.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be my tutor if that were the case.”

Arthur laughed “No, Edward I suppose not.”

Tewkesbury it is then Edward thought It will be here that the fates of Lancaster and York are decided. The battle had been joined some time ago and it became apparent that it would be the end of at least one of the feuding houses of England. The thunder of artillery had ended sometime ago, replaced with the clamor of thousands of men having at each other with weapons of every description known to man. All the while both the Lancastrian and Yorkist archers poured hundreds of deadly shafts into the melee. Edward himself had taken a shaft to the shoulder, though it had only been a glancing shot the shaft still had enough power to punch through Edward’s armor and through to his mail.

Looking over his section of the front, Edward realized that it would be here, on the right flank that the fate of the battle would be decided. While many would have thought that the battle in the center between the Duke of Warwick and the Yorkist Pretender would be the deciding point of the battle if Richard could turn the right flank of the Lancastrian Army, even the stalwart forces of Warwick would be forced to retreat. Unfortunately for Edward that was an all too likely proposition. As it was the men under Edward’s command were beginning to grow weary under the constant strain of the fighting. Moreover it seems that Richard was about to commit the entirety of the Yorkist reserve, 200 armored lancers to the fray. There was no way his men could withstand such an attack. 

“Sire,” one of his retainers to his left spoke up “We should sound the retreat, there’s no way we can withstand the charge of 200 heavy horse.”

Edward shook his head “No, this battle is where the fate of Lancaster will be decided. What say you Arthur?”

“You’re right sire,” Arthur said “Our only option is to turn the tide before the armored horse arrive.”

“My standard, squire,” Edward said beckoning to one of the boys that attended him and his horse. Lifting it aloft Edward remarked with satisfaction the job the seamstress had done. A spitting image of none other than the Black Prince’s standard, it would undoubtedly strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. 

Turning to his retainers he spoke “My friends, you have accompanied me thus far but I cannot ask you to go any further.”

“We will follow you to whatever end sire.” Arthur responded as the rest of his retainers nodded in agreement “Truly you are the King of England and today is the day you reclaim you’re birthright.”

Edward beamed “Then today my friends, we charge to whatever end!” Taking a breath Edward turned his mount to face the battle readying his lance and shield. “Now to wrath! Now to ruin! See the red dawn rising!”

And with that Edward of Westminster and his 5 retainers entered the Battle of Tewkesbury with the emblem of the Black Prince before them. Later accounts of the battle would say that it was at that moment that the fortunes of the Lancastrians changed. Yet at the time Edward felt no such confidence, the only chance he and his men had of impacting the battle would be a swift decaptiation strike. If Richard fell, then there was a chance that the entire Yorkist right wing might falter. 

With a bellow of the bugle, Edward and his retainers picked up speed and ran roughshod over the Yorkist infantry. Unfortunately for Edward, Richard seemed to have a great deal more retainers than Edward did. Choosing one of Richard’s retainers as his target, Edward launched himself into an all out charge. It all seemed to happen so fast, so fast it was an almost surreal experience. Within moments it was over. The lance in his hand nothing more than a shattered ruin, his shield arm still stinging from the glancing blow of the Yorkist lance and his opponent slumped over in his saddle with the greater portion of Edward’s lance embedded in his chest. 

Shaking his head in an effort to clear the malaise, Edward took stock of the situation around him. The assault of his retainers had been more or less effective. All around him they were fighting for their lives hacking at the plethora of Yorkist troops surrounding them. Richard meanwhile was deprived of his retainers, and looking straight at Edward. A battle it is then! Edward thought drawing his broadsword and spurring his mount towards Richard. Richard did likewise raising his war hammer in preparation for the killing blow. 

Edward knew this was pure and absolute folly. If he indeed beat the odds and somehow won, there was only a minute chance that the Yorkist flank would crumble. Yet if he died then the cause of the Lancastrians was indeed lost. However soon all thoughts cleared from Edward’s head, in a moment he knew how his grandfather and ancestors waded into battle so easily. His broadsword felt light in his hand as he raised it in anticipation of Richards blow. Indeed death was incredibly likely, but Edward was determined to make it such a death that it would be worthy of remembrance.

Within moments the distance had been closed between Edward and Richard. Richard’s initial blow had slammed harmlessly into Edward’s shield leaving the battle to devolve into a flurry of blows and parries. As the battle wore on, Edward began to grow weary; Richard sensing weakness pressed his advantage and unleashed a torrent of battering blows. In a flash it seemed to Edward that all of his strength had left his body as he barely managed to fend off Richards blows with his shield. 

With victory in his grasp, Richard York raised his bloodied war hammer for the killing blow. He was seconds away from slaying the Prince of Wales and ending the house of Lancaster once and for all. Yet it was then, when all seemed lost for the House of Lancaster, that fortune struck. Eyes shut in anticipation of the killing blow, Edward missed the impact of the stray arrow that saved his life. Upon opening his eyes Edward saw to his amazement that in an instant fortune’s wheel had indeed turned. A stray arrow from one of Lancaster’s few remaining archers had struck Richard under his arm as he raised his war hammer for the killing blow. 

With the arrow sunk up to it’s feathers in the torso of Richard of York it was apparent that this Yorkist pretender didn’t have much longer to live. Finding his second wind, Edward drove his broadsword into the neck of Richard, ending the Yorkist prince’s life in a single stroke. The death of yet another Prince of York seemed to give new life to the Lancastrian forces who surged forward against the faltering Yorkist troops. 

Freeing the blade of his broadsword, Edward wheeled his mount around to face the oncoming Yorkist horsemen. With a battle cry heard across the field he spurred his charger on, determined to defeat the oncoming lancers single handedly.

Struck by the bravery of their Prince the Lancastrian troops surged forward. Yet it was none other than Arthur who sounded the infamous call “To the King!” which was soon echoed across Edward’s section of the front. With a final surge, Edward’s men surged forward slaughtering all in their path. Deprived of their leader the Yorkist right flank crumbled under the renewed Lancastrian onslaught fleeing the field in complete and utter disarray.

Meanwhile the handful of remaining mounted troops under Edward’s command rushed forward to join the Prince of Wales in his mad charge. Not to be outdone the infantry redoubled their pace with yet another cry of “To the King!” In a heartbeat it seemed that the gap between the Lancastrian right wing and the Yorkist lancers vanished only to be replaced by the clamor of combat. 

As his opponent’s lance glanced off his shoulder, Edward brought his broadsword around in a decapitating blow that cut through plate, mail and flesh to decapitate the lancer and draw first blood amongst the Yorkist Lancers. This was echoed as the Lancastrians tore into the lancers flailing away in their mad bloodlust with whatever they could get their hands on. Lances, Pikes, Billhooks, and sheer ingenuity and determination brought the Yorkist Lancers’ advance to a halt as the Lancastrians quickly regained the initiative. Soon even the Yorkist mounted reserve was routed, joining the remains of Richard’s tattered wing.

With the collapse of the Yorkist left wing, the battle was all but decided. Edward IV, the Yorkist pretender was forced to concede defeat as the Prince of Wales’ bloodthirsty troops turned their attention to the center and joined up with Warwick’s forces. The Battle of Tewkesbury soon turned into a rout as the Yorkist’s fled the field, Edward IV and company at the forefront of the retreat. With victory all but achieved, Edward Prince of Wales slumped in his saddle, exhausted. 

With a grunt of effort he levered his helm off his head and breathed a sigh of relief. The battle had been won, yet were it not for that o so fortunate arrow Edward would be nothing more than a bloodied pulp and it would be the Lancastrian flank that would’ve had been turned. 

“Sire,” 

Edward beamed as he turned to face Arthur, surprised that any of his retainers had survived the battle “Arthur you’re alive!” he remarked.

“Sire, your men...”

Looking around, Edward saw hundreds of Englishmen gathered around him hanging off every word, every action. You’re a king Edward, remember that...the words of his mother rang out in his mind as he lifted his ostrich plumed helm aloft with a hoarse cry of “Victory!” 

As the cry was repeated over and over again, Edward looked over his men taking care to pay equal attention to the cautious looks of the nobles behind him. Indeed the army victorious at Tewkesbury was no homogenous force, only an uneasy alliance between the House of Lancaster and disaffected supporters of the white rose of York allowed the victory at Tewkesbury. Indeed even now the Duke of Warwick, his father in law, had an expression that was neutral at best.

Mother was right, he thought as the men around him continued to chant “Victory!” and “Long live the True King Edward!” Warwick will have to be watched. Never a fan of the Duke, she’d made sure that Edward made a suitable impression on him during their first meeting. Though the way things are going, Edward thought I just may have to execute all my enemies. Let’s just hope Warwick is smart enough to stay off the list. 

As he alternated scanning the ranks of common soldiers and nobles, Edward saw his mother and wife along with the supply train of the army approach. His mother’s expression was the first thing that caught his eye. Never since the beginning of this wretched conflict had he seen her face so filled with pride and happiness. Truly she deserved it all, without her Edward would probably be dead somewhere in the Tower of London. 

Yet it was his wife’s smile that kept his attention. Indeed the rush of battle was incredible and the thrill of victory was incomparable, but it seemed to be what followed the victory that made life truly worth living. Tonight Edward thought will be a night to remember...