The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Ned snorted and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  Richard waved both his hands. “No really. It’s true. I have it on very good authority.”

  “Look, wiseass, I don’t even know what nineteen times removed means, but if you’re looking for a handout from some lost relative you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m in between jobs right now—”

  Richard cut him off after glancing in the living room. “Is that a television, Ned? Do you have a telephone also?” He could barely keep the excitement out of his voice. “Those are wonderful inventions, don’t you think? What’s your favorite channel?”

  “Are you crazy? Just what nuthouse let you out?”

  “You have houses for the insane? You don’t just lock them in a dungeon?”

  Ned started walking toward the bedroom. “I’m calling the police. They’ll get you out of here by force if necessary.”

  Richard tried to remember what Herman said police were. Some kind of sheriff, perhaps? In any case, Ned needed to be brought to heel, and quickly. “I can prove what I claim. We are related, and I need your help. Desperately. It’s a matter of eternal life and death, so to speak.”

  Ned stopped and turned back around slowly. After studying Richard a moment, he frowned slightly and said, “I have a feeling I will be regretting this very shortly, but I will give you one more minute to explain exactly who you are and what you are doing here.”

  Richard started talking as fast as he could. “I’m Richard III come back to Earth in order to improve the poor reputation I have accumulated over the last five hundred years, although I’m not so sure now how horrid that reputation actually is, after seeing what a success the play about me is.” He held up his hand. “But I digress. Assuming, though, for the sake of argument that I actually do have a bad reputation, God might not send me to heaven unless I improve it. You see, Eddie got drunk one night with him, and God was too incapacitated the next day to do his usual work—”

  “Be quiet. That’s enough! I thought I smelled alcohol on your breath.” Ned headed into his bedroom and started fishing around in the pocket of some garment that had been thrown on the floor. He held up his phone and walked back toward Richard, with a triumphant expression on his face. “One call and you’ll be locked up for trespassing. I suggest for the last time that you get out of here.”

  Richard held up both hands in a position of surrender. “I said I can prove my claim. Aren’t you even going to listen to that?”

  Ned shook his head briefly. “Oh, this ought to be choice. Go ahead. Prove your ridiculous nonsense.”

  Richard spoke slowly and succinctly. “I learned a secret of yours that only God would know. You’ve never spoken about it to another living soul. I was told this secret in case you proved difficult to convince of who I am.”

  Ned shrugged. “Well, go ahead. Tell me this deep secret of mine.”

  Richard paused, wanting to make sure he got the wording just right. The whole secret was a mystery to Richard. He didn’t really understand it: what it actually was, why someone would keep it a secret, what special meaning it had for Ned.

  Ned laughed smugly. “I knew it. Of course you don’t know any secret. What a poor excuse for a charlatan you are—”

  Richard interrupted, “You, Ned York, have always wanted to be a park ranger.”

  The color drained from Ned’s face and he looked at Richard in shock. After a moment, he said breathlessly, “All right. Have a seat. We’ll talk.”

  Chapter Five

  Ned could barely believe what he had just heard. He watched cautiously as Richard sat down in the closest chair at the dining table, and he managed to shakily take another. God, he could feel his legs quivering with the action; this was so unsettling.

  Richard frowned slightly. “Ned, you’re looking as limp as a Lancaster here, and we can’t have that, as the proud Yorks that we are.”

  Ned sat straighter. “Just who are you?”

  Richard shook his head. “We’ve been through this already, but since you require detailed explanations, why don’t you have a tot to calm yourself. That ought to help. Then we’ll talk.”

  Ned continued to eye him suspiciously, but proceeded to do exactly that, and as the two sat at the dining table with a bottle of whiskey between them, Richard explained the specifics of everything that had happened since waking from his grave. He finally ended by asking Ned whether he believed him now.

  Ned took a sip from his glass and blew out a long breath. “I don’t want to . . . but . . . Look, that’s a lot to take in. Space travel, Herman the chef who’s also God’s assistant . . .” Ned shook his head. “It’s insane. Yet I’ve been trying to figure out how you could know I wanted to be a park ranger. I’ve never told anyone my secret before.”

  Richard smiled triumphantly. “Exactly.”

  Ned remained quiet for a moment, then said, “Wait a minute. You hacked into my recent searches on the computer. That’s how you figured it out.” He stood up, scraping back his chair.

  Richard frowned. “Sit down, Ned. You’re not speaking any language I recognize. What’s hacking, for starters?” Richard shook his head. “Never mind. You just have to accept the fact that Herman heard it from God and then he told me.”

  “Why should I? Why should I help you?” Ned started to pace.

  Richard scratched his chin and took a stab in the dark. “Well, because, if for no other reason, you’re a good person, and you do not want to leave a relative of yours helpless, without any hope of assistance. I mean, even if I were crazy—which I’m not—you still would be leaving a family member wandering around in the wrong century, not knowing what to do. Hungry, thirsty, homeless, grappling for a mere piece of bread—”

  “There are homeless shelters that could lend you a hand.”

  “A homeless shelter? You mean a mission run by the monks? You want your relative taking charity when you have a perfectly fine home here?” Richard raised his brows a little doubtfully as he looked at the mess around him again.

  “That’s assuming you are my relative, which is still up for debate.”

  “I am. Truly, I am.”

  Ned hesitated. As insane as everything sounded, he couldn’t get rid of the nagging thought that this man was telling him the truth. That he didn’t know the ins and outs of using a computer. That the very few times Ned had allowed himself to look up a park ranger site were not enough for anyone to come to the conclusion that he wanted to secretly be a park ranger. Hell, if his Web preferences were the source of this discovery, then someone would think he wanted to be a historian for all the articles he had read about his famous relatives. Or perhaps a pizza delivery man, for that matter.

  And if he did help this man, what was the worst thing that could happen? Well, Ned could be murdered. Okay, okay, perhaps a little too dramatic. But what advantage was there in helping him? And Ned knew immediately what that was: If the man was his relative, Ned was doing the right thing, but also . . . well, it would give him a reason to delay getting on with his own life, making difficult decisions in the crossroads he was at. If he was going to be honest with himself, it was another escape from what he should be doing. Oh, he doubted this man would ever turn into a close friend, so that shortcoming in his life would not be resolved, but surely Ned’s time would be occupied at least partly with Richard’s many problems, leaving less time for Ned to tackle his own . . . which he had to admit was infinitely pleasing.

  “All right, I’ll assume that you’re at least an English relative of mine and need a place to stay. For that reason I’ll let you remain here. It’s going to take some time to absorb the rest, if I ever do.” Ned frowned. “But I’m warning you—when and if I figure out what kind of con job this is, I’ll report you to the authorities.”

  Richard shrugged. “Fair enough. Now it’s my turn to ask some questions. First off, what’s a park ranger?”

  Ned perked up. “Oh, this fantastic profession. Most of the peaks around the town of Estes Park are pa
rt of Rocky Mountain National Park. The people who take care of them are called park rangers. They maintain trails, protect the wildlife, educate tourists about how to prevent forest fires, implement conservation measures, give nature walks. . . .” Ned trailed off as he noticed Richard losing interest, starting to glance around the room.

  But then Richard turned back to Ned, frowning slightly. “Are you saying you want to become the royal game warden here?”

  “Not exactly, but perhaps a version of that. There are many more wilderness areas in this country where park rangers work. I just happen to love this region.” Ned smiled, thinking how the last few days had been some of the best he’d spent in a long while.

  But Richard was looking perplexed. “If you like these particular mountains so much, why don’t you just seize control of them?”

  “But how would everyone else be able to enjoy their splendor if I just owned them?”

  Richard gave Ned a look as if he were dim-witted. “That’s the point. They wouldn’t. The summits would be just for you and yours.” He shook his head. “Anyway, let’s move on to my next question. Why is becoming a park ranger your special secret that you can’t tell anyone?”

  Ned wasn’t sure he wanted to get into that with Richard, essentially a stranger. “It’s complicated. I doubt you want to hear about it all.”

  Richard downed his remaining shot. “Ned, everything concerning a York is of interest to me. And since we’re relations, why don’t you start calling me by my usual nickname. My family refers to me as Dickie.”

  Ned’s eyes widened slightly. “Your family called you Dickie? I’m not sure if I should—”

  Dickie held up his hand. “I already feel a kinship with you, what with your strong resemblance to my older brother Eddie. Are you saying you’d rather refer to me as Your Royal Highness or Your Grace?”

  Ned shook his head. “No, no. Uh, Dickie will be fine. But perhaps you’d better let outsiders call you Richard.”

  “Of course. Now let’s proceed with this explanation of yours concerning your secret.”

  “Okay. Let me tell you about your American family a little first. Grandma Sally is what you call old wealth. Not super-rich but definitely well-off. She grew up on a Virginian estate in horse country. Grandfather Ed, who passed away years ago, had lived comfortably himself before meeting Grandma.”

  “So your grandmother is a duchess?”

  “A what? Oh, no, not that.”

  “A marquess at least?”

  “She didn’t have any title. We don’t believe in those here.”

  Richard shook his head with a bewildered expression.

  “Anyway, they had three children. The most sensible is Aunt Elle. I think the world of her. She has no kids of her own, but considers Cousin Clarence and me as if we were her own sons. After Aunt Elle, my father Burt and Uncle Buff—actually his real name is Clarence—were born. Burt married my mother, Biddy, and Uncle Buff married Bunny. I am Burt and Biddy’s only child, and Clarence is Buff and Bunny’s only child. Burt, Biddy, Buff, and Bunny—I call them the four Bs—all live in the State of Florida, along with Cousin Clarence. Are you following me?”

  Dickie scratched his head. “I’m trying to. But what do the four Bs have to do with your secret?”

  “Oh, it’s because essentially they’re all idiots.”

  “I beg your pardon. Yorks are idiots?”

  “See, Grandma Sally gave inheritance money to Burt and Buff years ago, and they have been running through it as if there’s no end. They thought they would enter the Florida real estate market, but buying high and selling low is obviously not the way to perform well. Also, spending most of your time fishing and boating in Islamorada doesn’t help either. So that’s why Grandma Sally came up with the competition between Cousin Clarence and me.”

  “A competition, you say? What? A battle of swords?”

  Ned chuckled. “Definitely not.”

  “Oh, I see. Jousting at tournament then.”

  “No. When we turned fifteen she simply informed Clarence and me that since her own sons could handle money no better than flying pigs, she had no intention of turning over her remaining estate to her grandsons until we proved ourselves. She announced that whichever one of us, by age thirty-three, had the most successful career and the happiest home life—including a family—would inherit the vast bulk of her estate.”

  Richard nodded. “Ah, I see. She picked age thirty-three, when our Lord died.”

  “No, thirty-three was her winning lottery ticket number.”

  “Huh? Anyway, how many more years until the contest ends?”

  “Three.”

  “Who’s winning? You or Clarence?”

  “I’d say we were tied until recently.”

  “What happened lately?”

  Ned sighed. “I lost my job as an attorney.”

  Dickie closed his eyes briefly. “Oh, no. Ned, tell me you’re not truly a lawyer. How could you do something so, so . . .” Richard shook his head and scrunched up his face in disgust.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not sure I ever really wanted to be one. Becoming a park ranger was my secret ambition ever since my parents first took me to Rocky Mountain National Park on a family vacation.”

  “So why didn’t you become one then?”

  “I knew my family would never approve. See, early on, they found out I was bright, and my parents started bragging about future flashy, well-paying careers I could have. A park ranger isn’t exciting to most people, and it’s certainly not well paying. I just always kept my mouth shut about wanting to be one.”

  Dickie frowned, but said nothing.

  Ned continued. “The doors on becoming a park ranger officially closed the day I sat in Grandma Sally’s study and heard about the competition. There’s no way I could win the contest on a park ranger’s salary. Becoming one was just my secret wish between God and me. I never breathed a word about it to anyone. That’s why you floored me when you told me you knew.” And once again Ned was struck by the incredible fact that Dickie could very well be who he claimed. He shook his head. It was absolutely astounding. Too astounding. He needed to rein in his crazy thoughts.

  “So what are you doing in Estes Park?”

  Ned sighed. “Just taking a break for a while.” Fleeing from issues he didn’t want to think about, more like. “But I’ll probably get another job as a lawyer once the scandal dies down.” Ned sighed again. Would he really? He suddenly felt bleak.

  “A scandal?”

  Ned inwardly groaned. He hadn’t meant to reveal that additional embarrassing personal information. But he informed Dickie of what had happened with Charlena.

  Dickie frowned. “Hope she actually was a beauty, after what she did to you.”

  Ned leaned over and rummaged through some papers on the corner of the dining table. “Here’s a photo I took of her.”

  Dickie whistled low. “A goddess.”

  Ned shrugged. “Yeah, I used to think so, but she isn’t all that smart.”

  “Who cares?”

  Ned shook his head. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about Charlena. What are your plans now that you’re here in Estes Park?”

  Dickie straightened. “To do everything I can—with your help, of course—to improve my reputation. First, I’d like to see this play about me.”

  Ned frowned slightly. “You mean the Shakespeare drama at Performance Park?”

  Dickie smiled smugly. “Yes, is there a showing tonight?”

  Ned shook his head. “I’m not sure. But I really don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  Dickie cocked back his head. “Why ever not?”

  “Well, I’ve never read the play myself, but I think there could be some parts that you might not appreciate.” Because Dickie might be Richard III. Good God. Was Ned actually believing him now? No, this was still too insane. But to make things easier initially on their relations, he realized he probably should go along with it until h
e could convince Dickie otherwise . . . or get him the help he needed.

  Dickie waved his hand dismissively. “How bad can it be?”

  Ned groped around for excuses not to go. “But what will you wear? Only actors on the stage wear clothing such as yours.”

  Dickie pondered a moment. “Hmmm. I see what you mean. I guess I should try to blend in more, considering you, my own relative, took so long to believe who I was. It appears to be next to impossible to convince anyone else, even if I do have such an obvious noble, regal bearing. I mean, even my clothes are substantially richer than this current fashion.”

  Ned wanted to laugh, but refrained.

  Dickie eyed Ned up and down. “You’re only a little taller than me. I’ll wear some of your clothes.”

  “I don’t have that many that are not working attire.”

  “God forbid I look like a lawyer. I certainly don’t want to sink that low.”

  Ned sighed. “Look, it’s not that bad being a lawyer; it’s just . . .” Well, not what he was sure he wanted to do anymore.

  Dickie shook his head vigorously. “Speak for yourself.”

  “Okay, then we’ll need to go clothes shopping, but tomorrow I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  Ned squirmed in his chair. “I, uh, signed up for some classes given by the park rangers. One’s on birdwatching and the other on exploring the habitats of beavers.”

  Dickie nodded knowingly. “So you can become a park ranger.”

  Ned glanced sideways. “I didn’t say that. I’m just interested in the topics, that’s all.”

  “Well, I say do what you want with your life. But I can find the tailor in Estes Park. I don’t need your help picking out fabrics and styles. I can walk back to town tomorrow morning myself.”

  “Oh, no. Custom clothes would be too expensive. You need to shop at one of the general clothing stores. But what money do you have?”

  “Herman gave me some paper money, but I’ve quickly gotten rid of that.” Dickie scoffed. “As if a piece of paper could be of much value. No, I’ve wisely retained the metal coins.” Dickie stood up and shook his leather pouch onto the table. A few quarters, dimes, and pennies fell out. “Just let me work out the remaining coins—”