Following the adventures of Jen and Lucy
Jen Hailing from New York City
Lucy Hailing from the Cotswolds
Lucinda and her friend, Jennifer, visiting
from New York City, are on the first day of their stay in Leicester. They are
both members of an international Richard III Society and have become firm friends online – now thrilled to
finally meet in person.
Jennifer has meticulously written a timetable
for them, but by 6 p.m., Lucinda is secretly on the point of collapse; clearly,
her once-weekly gentle Pilates with the girls isn’t enough to match Jennifer’s
boot camp level of fitness. She also isn’t used to getting up at 5:30, but
Jennifer convinced her they should arrive at Bosworth Field before the crowds.
Back in the city, a patient curator has just gently ushered them out of the
King Richard III Visitor Centre at closing time.
“See you tomorrow at nine, Jen,” she calls
after them, giving a friendly wave.
Lucinda has noticed that everyone seems to
like Jennifer; it’s certainly
very hard not to be charmed by her new American friend.
******
“Perhaps the museum with Richard’s original
sword is still open,” Jennifer says with unflagging enthusiasm. “I can’t wait
to ask if I can hold it.”
Slightly appalled at the idea, Lucinda puts
one hand to her forehead. “I’m a tiny bit tired. Would you mind if we stopped
for a drink?”
“What a great idea!” beams the American,
darting into the nearby King Richard Arms before Lucinda can stop her. She was
thinking more of a quiet pre-dinner G and T back at The Hilton, maybe a long
soak in the bath. As they walk into the darkened pub, they immediately spot a
man and a woman dressed in medieval garb enjoying a pint.
Jennifer grabs Lucinda’s arm. “Lucy, look, we need to get a
picture of those two! Maybe, they’ll agree to a selfie?” She goes quite pink,
obviously excited at the prospect.
Lucinda has given up asking Jennifer not to shorten her
name. “Um, yes, but they do look rather engrossed in deep conversation –
perhaps later; let’s not get too touristy, you promised!”
Jennifer laughs good-naturedly. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? No
worries, I won’t embarrass you. But re-enactors are used to adoration from
their fans, especially tourists!”
“Let’s order first,” Lucinda says, flagging down a passing
barmaid and rather grandly asking for a bottle of their best champagne.
“Come, let’s sit
near them,” Jennifer insists, dragging Lucinda to a nearby table.
Jennifer is taking in the quaint atmosphere, observing
architecture from earlier times that has
survived the passage of time. She chooses the seat closest to the couple who
appear to be having a heated conversation.
“Tis a shame what
they’re saying about His Grace, God rest his soul,” the woman says while
crossing herself. “And people are
agreeing! It is not right, I tell you!”
Lucinda thinks it’s
very bad manners for actors to be practicing their lines in public. She can’t
imagine such a thing happening at The National in London.
“Lower
your voice,” the man in costume replies. “The king has spies everywhere.”
“The Tudor upstart is
not our king! It’s his mother’s doing that brought him here! Devout and pious,
my foot! She’s a scheming charlatan, that one! Don’t be fooled by her lies! And
that husband of hers is no better! The true king died in battle because of his betrayal!
I can only imagine the pain Richard felt when he saw Stanley’s army fighting against him. There is
no justice!”
“You speak treason.”
“I speak the truth!”
Lucinda is debating
whether to ask them to keep their voices down when Jennifer leans over, and
whispers in her ear – “They are really in character, aren’t they? We have to
find out where they’re performing.”
At that moment, the
door of the pub flies open. Two soldiers dressed in medieval garb and wearing
Henry VII’s badge walk in.
With hands on the pommels of their swords, they look around the room.
“We have to leave,” the man says,
glancing at the door.
“They are not looking for us,” the woman
tells him.
“We can’t chance it,” the man says as he
pulls her out of her seat.
Jennifer is transfixed to see the fear in the
woman’s eyes before turning her head back to the men.
“Lucy, look! Those men – wow, don’t they look
menacing? Do you think they’ll take a picture with me? OMG, this is so
exciting. We might be participating in a skit. You know, like those murder
mystery dinners where the cast interacts with the audience. This is so cool.”
Jennifer dives
into her purse to get her phone, hoping to take some authentic action shots,
but by the time she turns around, the couple has vanished along with the king’s
soldiers. “Where did they go?”
“Probably out
through the rear entrance,” Lucinda replies, grateful to see the back of them.
Now she can enjoy her champagne in peace.
“I don’t see a back
door. Now that is weird. What if we stumbled into the past somehow? That would
explain us witnessing a moment in time – like a portal opening or something.”
“You Americans watch
far too much television.”
“Then what is your
explanation for them vanishing – poof! – just like that. I bet if we ask the
barkeeper, he’ll deny seeing anything strange or out of the ordinary. It’s
typical of that Brit stiff upper lip thing you have going where you say nothing
about feelings or anything weird.”
“Jennifer, I think
they just left – you missed the football crowd coming in a little while ago;
that’s when they walked out of the door, I am sure.”
“Since we both saw
them, suffice it to say they were there, and we did overhear the conversation.
Let’s just toss it up to too much of the bubbly. But I assumed they were
talking about Richard III and Henry VII. And the woman was right. Henry VII did
not deserve to be king. Shakespeare did a great disservice to Richard’s memory.
The same with Thomas More. Look who ruled while they were writing about Richard
– the Tudors! Of course, they wouldn’t tell the truth. They’d be dead if they
did! And if Shakespeare were alive today, he’d be sued for defamation of
character. A good lawyer would have a field day in court – and it would be
broadcast on CNN!”
Lucinda reaches out for a menu. “You have to
remember there are a lot of opinionated people here in the U.K. who are
convinced of Richard’s guilt.”
“Oh, because they believe the fake news about
the Princes in the Tower?”
Lucinda laughs. “I
do love your passion. Let’s order some food to keep us going.”
“In mock trials in
the U.S. and I believe here in the UK, Richard was acquitted. Hearsay
and circumstantial evidence create reasonable doubt. Besides, I think our pious
Margaret Beaufort orchestrated everything.”
Lucinda is impressed by her clever friend’s
knowledge and liked the idea of an American-style courtroom drama. “How about
we compare notes? The pros and cons for guilt or innocence,” she suggests,
getting into the spirit of things. This American friend of hers was so
different from her other ones. Much more fun a lot of the time, wearing her
heart on her sleeve.
“Great idea! How
about starting with the obvious fake news – like being two years in his
mother’s womb. Seriously? But then people have believed ridiculous
headlines throughout the centuries – the one with a political candidate running
a sex trafficking ring out of
a pizza shop back in D.C. comes to mind. So,
it’s not just your lot not thinking straight.”
Lucinda nods in agreement. “You’re right.
Shakespeare wrote for dramatic effect. However, his skeleton has proven that
Richard did have a mild form of scoliosis, but he certainly wasn’t the
hunchback of popular folklore. He’s been accused of terrible crimes, but he was
actually very brave charging into the thick of the battle.”
“I agree, he was braver than most, kings included, but the nitty-gritty is with the princes in the Tower. What
happened to them? They disappeared just like our couple with the soldiers,”
Jennifer starts to laugh.
Lucinda smiles back.
“But we can’t escape the fact that Richard did have motive and means. I read
somewhere that the powerful Howards could have been involved with helping
Richard. Just after little Edward V was taken to the Tower, John Howard ordered two sacks of lime.”
“Oh, I didn’t know
that. But for sure, they were up to no good.”
“Who knows? The
father and son were made Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Surrey just days into
Richard’s reign.”
“I can see why that
would be suspicious. But speaking of motive and means, Henry and his mother
definitely had it. So did the Duke of Buckingham – what was his name?”
“Henry Stafford.”
Jennifer nods. “Ah,
yes, another Henry.”
“My grandfather always used to say ‘never
back a man who changes horses mid-race.’ Like Buckingham did when he switched
from Richard to Margaret and Henry. No wonder Richard had him executed.”
“He chose poorly,” Jennifer laughed, remembering the line from
Indiana Jones, wondering if Lucy had seen the movie, then realizing she hadn’t when she didn’t react as one
might expect. “In my opinion, Richard had no reason
to get rid of his nephews. They were declared illegitimate; besides, Richard
was already king. However, as the saying goes, the buck stops here – Richard
was King, ergo, he has to take responsibility for their disappearance.”
Lucinda shakes her head. “That doesn’t seem
fair at all. To be accused of a crime you didn’t commit, just because you’re in
charge.”
“But life isn’t fair. And let’s not forget Elizabeth
Woodville, the boys’ mother. If she suspected Richard of murderous intent, she
never would have allowed them to be housed in the Tower. Score a point for
Richard!”
“That’s exactly what I’ve always thought too.
I would never have allowed my Toby or Rupert to go anywhere near such a man
when they were little. And when they did the reconstruction of Richard, he had
such a pleasant face. A thoroughly nice young man of thirty-two. Not a monster
at all.”
“Monster-maker Shakespeare
filled the seats. That’s all he cared about. People aren’t interested in the
truth. They want drama; who cares about the lies – remember the gladiators of
Ancient Rome – blood, and gore to satisfy the unruly spectators! But I am
digressing. Margaret
Beaufort had everything to lose. You know my views here, but I will add she
included Henry in the conspiracy. The perks associated with wearing a
crown are very tempting – money and power – the guy was not stupid – you will
never convince me he was ignorant of his mother’s plotting. And don’t forget, with Richard dead, Edward’s son gets the crown, not
Henry. Henry couldn’t let them live. Don’t you find it interesting that Henry never mentions the princes – like show the kids or the
bodies – it was as if they never existed. And we can throw Buckingham into the
mix. There you have it – the trifecta of guilty suspects. I rest my case.”
Lucinda raises her glass. “If I were on a
jury and you were the prosecuting Queen’s Counsel, you’d convince me to send them
all down.”
Their serious
discussion is briefly interrupted by the barmaid placing enormous plates of food
in front of them.”
“I do love Yorkshire
Pudding,” Jennifer says, her
eyes lighting up as she gazes down at her plate. “Enjoy,” she says to Lucinda,
picking up her fork.
“Bon appetit,” replies Lucinda, seriously envious of Jennifer’s
impressive roast beef dinner and secretly wishing she’d hadn’t opted for the
far more virtuous poached sole, new potatoes with steamed kale and beetroot.
None of her other friends would ever dare order such a calorific meal as
Jennifer, but she seems oblivious. The sautéed mushrooms and oven crisp roast
potatoes look so much more appetizing than the minuscule new potatoes on
Lucinda’s own plate. And that Yorkshire Pudding is the biggest she’s ever seen!
She hopes that at least she can persuade Jennifer to swap her mangetout for the little pot of mushy
peas she’s been given. Her husband, Giles, is most disparaging about them and
thinks they should have remained where they were in a fish and chip shop.
Perhaps Jennifer has never tried them?
“I’m really not into peas,” Jennifer says,
pushing the dish towards her friend after noticing the look on Lucy’s face. “I
take it you don’t like mushy peas either.”
“They’re an acquired taste, one I’ve
never managed, I’m afraid.”
Lucinda’s mouth is watering as she
watches Jennifer spear a juicy-looking roast potato. “Now, remember to save
room for the sticky toffee pudding.”
“I prefer the apple cobbler or crumble, as
you call it here. But do you think they’ll serve it with a scoop of
vanilla ice cream instead of clotted cream – that’s not really my thing.”
Lucinda desperately tries to keep her
eyes averted from Jennifer’s plate as she pops a piece of bland fish into her
mouth, followed by a particularly tough strand of the rather bitter kale. “I am
sure they will.”
“This must be the best roast beef dinner
I’ve ever tasted, Lucy! I love the mushrooms and even the potatoes. As for the
Yorkshire Pudding – oh, to die for! How’s your fish?”
“Delightful,” lies Lucinda, silently dreaming of sticky toffee pudding.
“Why not try some of my roast beef? I’d
rather see you enjoy these tasty morsels than ask for a doggie bag. I’m
assuming they give doggie bags.” Lucinda starts to put her hand up in protest, but
Jennifer quickly drops two beef strips onto her plate. “I insist.”
Jennifer’s
thoughtfulness touches Lucinda as she picks up a strip of what turns out to be the
most perfectly roasted joint of beef. Maybe having one’s name shortened isn’t
such a bad thing after all. “You are right, Jen; the beef is a far better
choice.”
“It’s so much fun trying to solve a real
whodunit while enjoying good food with such a great friend. Perhaps that couple
was sent here for us to reopen the case against
Richard III, proving his innocence, once and for all. We could rewrite
the history books!”
“Not an easy feat,”
Lucinda smiles, clinking glasses. “A toast to our friendship and finding the
truth, wherever it may take us.”
“Loyalty Binds Me!
“Loyaulté me Lie!” Here’s to our next adventure, Jen, wherever that may be.”
¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*¨) ✮ ( ¸.•´✶
Follow the authors
Vivienne Brereton
Amazon Author Page Twitter Website
Mary Ann Bernal
Amazon Author Page Twitter Website
Richard III
Source: Wikimedia
