The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Dickie closed his eyes tightly, clearly trying to hold back tears. After a moment he opened them and shook his head. The words were unmistakably hard to speak, but finally he said brokenly, “My pride and joy. He would have made a good king, so intelligent and thoughtful.” He shook his head, saddened. “When he died suddenly, Annie and I weren’t . . .” He swallowed and continued. “We were traveling my kingdom. I didn’t get to say good-bye.”

  Ned nodded, suddenly unable to speak himself.

  “I became king, and about a year later my nine-year-old son died. And the year after that, my wife. She had always been frail, and I think losing our son was just too much for her.” His shoulders drooped and he stared at the floor.

  Ned found his voice. “How did you cope? How did you go on?”

  Dickie slowly straightened, and Ned watched him transform into His Royal Highness Richard III again. He met Ned’s eye. “Because it was my duty. I had no choice. Even if my beloved father hadn’t drilled into me since I was very young the importance of loyalty, responsibility, and chivalry, God had chosen me to become king. It was my divine right and my calling from God. Of course, Lizzie helped me through it—”

  “Who?”

  “Eddie’s oldest daughter had been staying with me before Annie’s death. I loved . . . her company. But I knew eventually I would need to start a new family and beget an heir. I was negotiating to marry a Portuguese princess with Lancastrian connections when I lost the battle against Tudor.”

  “Where was your home in London?”

  Dickie frowned slightly. “I don’t think I ever considered my residence here as actually my home. My affinity was always for Middleham Castle in the North, where I had first stayed as a youth under the Kingmaker.”

  “Just how many castles or palaces did you own?”

  Dickie genuinely smiled for the first time since entering their hotel room. “Too many to count. Once I reached my majority as the Duke of Gloucester, I aggressively sought to build an empire in the North.” He chuckled. “In fact, Eddie had to rein me in a little, I became so determined.”

  Ned frowned slightly. “Did you once threaten some old woman until she agreed to turn her estates over to your care?”

  “The woman whose sons were rebels? Well, that’s one way to interpret it. But, uh, yeah . . . Eddie did admonish me occasionally for being too aggressive. But before you get the wrong impression, I was normally known as being extremely chivalrous and fair when it came to women.” He cleared his throat and raised both brows slyly. “The aforementioned case notwithstanding.”

  Ned couldn’t help chuckling.

  Dickie paused a moment, then continued. “Eddie had to intercede again when my brother George and I argued over the Kingmaker’s inheritance. See, George had married Lord Warwick’s eldest daughter and I had married his second.”

  “I read that you and George each argued your own case in front of Edward IV as cleverly as if you were lawyers yourselves.”

  “Yes, I knew the law well. And as you know, it was an abiding passion of mine to reform it fairly not only as king, but as the Duke of Gloucester as well.”

  “The bail system for minor crimes was begun by you.”

  “Yes.” Dickie stood taller. “Did you know I acted as a judge many times? The common folk just loved me when I would hear cases not only concerning the titled, but from the lowliest of servants. As a king I established the Court of Requests, giving the helpless a cheaper way to seek redress legally. Sometimes I ruled in favor of the peasants, which was essentially unheard-of up to this point. Why, at my first parliamentary session as king, we established the basis for unbiased juries, and outlawed seizure of property until a decision had been rendered. Judges were told to rule fairly, not just based on a person’s wealth. No more lingering in prison without charges being defined.”

  Ned nodded. “Quite an impressive record.”

  Dickie shook his head ruefully. “Indeed. Didn’t I tell you the Tudors should all be hung?”

  “It’s kind of ironic how you’ve been smeared for killing your nephews when the Tudors actually did murder innocents.”

  “Ned, even I have to admit it was the way of the times. Good kings were supposed to be warriors. They did what was considered necessary to hold their crowns. Can you think of any medieval king who did not murder some innocents?”

  Ned shook his head. “Not offhand. But it seems some were more malicious than others.”

  “True enough. Now let’s see about this Total Tour.” Dickie rubbed his hands together. “I’m getting excited about it.”

  “Okay, but first let’s go to this new society’s headquarters and check it out.” Ned smiled, glad to see Dickie back to his normal self. In the few short days that he had come to know his cousin, he had found his company more than enjoyable. Dickie was not only intelligent and thoughtful—no wonder he had described his son as such—he was personable and charismatic. Perhaps not as dynamic as his older brother Edward had supposedly been, but probably a close second. And Ned liked him. Felt comfortable around him—the way close companions should.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lindsey hummed while she sketched her latest design on a piece of notepad. She looked up when she heard a knock and the door to her small office opening.

  “Is this the Clear Richard III’s Name Society?”

  There in the doorway stood a tall man, about thirty years old, who looked, well . . . slightly nerdy with his khaki pants and formal button-down shirt. Just the type to visit the society—yet there was something about this one that she found a bit appealing. He was panting slightly, but she knew he had just climbed five stories in her decrepit old building, where she worked part-time and the elevator failed to work full-time.

  “Yes, how can I help you?”

  He stepped forward, followed by another man about his age. The second man looked around the office space judgmentally, but the first kept his eyes on her and then glanced down briefly at her drawing. She quickly shut her notepad, not wanting to divulge what she had actually been doing with her time at work.

  “Hi, I’m Ned York. This is my cousin Richard York. We were wondering how we could join your society. Actually, we’re both interested in seeing how we can contribute to your useful cause.”

  Lindsey smiled. “Wonderful. We can always use more members. I’m Lindsey Sport.” She reached over her desk to shake both their hands and then pulled out some forms from her top drawer. “Just fill these out and return them with your registration fee, or you can enter your information online. Once your forms are reviewed and approved by the board of directors, you will be set to go. We send regular notices of our meetings and activities.”

  Ned—nice name—cleared his throat before smiling. “See, there’s a bit of a problem. We both live in America and can’t attend any of your meetings regularly. But we think we have important information to contribute to your efforts.”

  The one named Richard suddenly perked up. “Indeed, we do—”

  But Ned interrupted. “We can discuss that later.” He gave a meaningful look over at Richard. “After our membership is conferred. We can send them important information later from stateside. Not now, Richard.”

  “Oh, I see.” Lindsey glanced down at her desktop and felt an odd twinge of disappointment that Ned didn’t reside in England. But when she looked back up, she found Ned staring again at her intently. Not that he could be interested in someone as erudite as she, could he? No, get a grip, girl. He was only attracted to the society. “Well, I’m not sure what the board will say to that.”

  As if on cue, Henry Beals, who was hard of hearing, but always the most vocal, bellowed from the adjoining room, “That’s insufferable to think we need to clutter our documentary with Richard’s love of dogs.”

  Doris Dyke’s academically snobbish voice countered. “We need to attract the general audience to the film. Dogs are an easy way.”

  “Dogs, schmogs. Do you even know which type of dog Richard owned?�
�

  “Wolfhounds, Henry. Everyone knows that.”

  Henry snidely queried, “Irish or Scottish?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  “Uh-huh! Some accurate addition that will make to the project!”

  Then Minnie Bird had to add in her high, squeaky voice, “Actually, I think the dogs are referred to most accurately as Irish wolfhounds or Scottish deerhounds.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes briefly and sank deeper into her seat.

  Henry snorted. “You don’t say. Who cares? The dogs are out.”

  “Now wait a minute. We should vote on that.”

  This was embarrassing. She got up and closed the door on the board meeting. She looked at the perplexed expression on Ned’s face and wished she had shut it earlier.

  She tried to explain. “Uh, the board is having a meeting about the documentary they wish to produce, helping to elucidate Richard’s true life.”

  Richard spoke up: “What’s a documentary?”

  Ned answered, “A serious show on television.”

  Richard seemed indignant. “And they’re debating dogs?! What about discussing nephews and this usurpation of the throne business?”

  Lindsey replied, “I’m sure they’ll get around to that eventually. That and funding for the project.”

  Richard zeroed right in. “Is there enough money to make the documentary right now?”

  Lindsey frowned slightly. “We could always use more contributions. The fund is a little short.”

  Richard looked at Ned. “We need to talk out in the hallway.”

  Ned looked apologetic. “Excuse us a moment, Ms. Sport. We’ll be right back.”

  Lindsey could just imagine what they needed to discuss. Things like whether this society was full of a bunch of fools. She watched them close the door behind them and didn’t expect to see them again. But a few minutes later Ned walked back in alone. She didn’t ask where his cousin was—probably hightailing it out of the building.

  Ned paused a moment, then said, “Excuse our interruption. My cousin and I are still interested in joining the society—he had a tour of London he needed to get to—but we wondered if we could possibly start an American branch. Somewhat distinct from the English branch, but still helping in a noble cause. Er . . . uh, would you like to discuss it at dinner tonight? I mean, uh . . .” Ned blushed profusely.

  This was a surprising turn of events. Lindsey knew she didn’t have any authority or say over whether the society would be interested in an American branch, but she caught herself from stating that. Because did Ned just ask her out on a date? Lindsey smiled, suddenly pleased, realizing she would like to get to know him a little better. There was just something earnest and intelligent about the man that she found appealing, besides his looks, which she found definitely attractive.

  But, no, of course this wasn’t a date. Lindsey’s smile dropped. How could it be anything other than a business meeting when surely his cousin Richard would be coming?

  Although that reality check was disappointing, there was still a bright side to the evening out: Her mother wouldn’t know it wasn’t a date, and Lindsey could spin this meal into sounding exactly like one. And perhaps, just perhaps, it would get her mother off her back about finding a husband. Lord knew her parents were already concerned about what she wanted to do for a career. The lack of a husband just added to their disappointment in her.

  You’re not trying hard enough, darling. Perhaps if you bothered to fix your hair and wore a little more makeup, you would find a man.

  Oh, my God.

  Last weekend her mother had suggested that Lindsey try online dating to find a partner. She had even offered—no, make that threatened—to help her fill out the information about herself. So Lindsey quickly responded, “I’d be delighted to.”

  Ned looked relieved. “Wonderful. That’s great. I mean, you know, about discussing the society. How about if I . . . I mean, we meet you at our hotel restaurant? The New Regency. I hear it has terrific food with good reviews. Our treat, of course. I wouldn’t expect the society to pay for the meal.”

  “Oh, that’s near my apartment. What time?”

  “Eight o’clock?”

  Lindsey smiled. “I’ll be there.”

  Dickie stepped into the tour bus and took a seat next to a young woman who glanced up briefly from her phone, smiling warmly. While she finished up her conversation, Dickie thought about what Ned and his next move should be to repair his reputation. Dickie had sized up the situation with that society rather quickly. He was of the decided opinion that they would be of little help in furthering his cause.

  But Ned had seemed reluctant to just drop the idea, and wanted to go back into the headquarters and talk some more with them. Dickie had shrugged and not bothered to debate the issue. He suspected their efforts would be better centered in some other area, but since they currently had no other option, if Ned didn’t care about potentially wasting his time, so be it. He had a tour to get to, and they had departed separately. He would see what Ned found out after this tour was done when he met him back at the hotel.

  The woman next to him finished her call and looked over at Dickie, “Hi, I’m Caroline.” She held out her hand to shake his.

  Caroline was decidedly cute and looked to be in her early twenties. “I’m Richard York, but my friends call me Dickie.”

  “I’m studying business on a semester abroad program from my college. So I guess you’re from England, by the sound of your accent.”

  “Yes, originally, but I’ve been staying most recently with my cousin in Estes Park, Colorado.”

  “Oh, I’m from Washington, D.C.”

  “Do you know my cousin Ned York? He used to live there.”

  “No, I’ve never met him, but it’s kind of a large town.” She grinned sweetly, as if he had said something funny. “Listen, I know we just met and this is going to sound kind of strange, but could you wake me if you see something interesting? You see, I have this bad habit of falling asleep easily in cars and planes. This is the second time I’m taking this tour. I slept through it the first time.”

  Dickie smiled. “Is it that boring?”

  “I wouldn’t know; I was passed out the whole time. Once I slept on a bus tour through the entire country of Denmark and was teased like crazy by my friends. But it can come in handy sometimes. I was only awake for a couple hours flying the twenty-five home from Australia.”

  “Well, I’ll give you a nudge if I see you’re sleeping today.”

  “Thanks, Dickie. I’d appreciate that.”

  True to her word, Caroline was snoozing, head against the glass window, when they passed by a big clock. Dickie peered up at the tower and didn’t find it all that interesting. He decided to let her keep sleeping.

  By the time they got to the Changing of the Guard, Caroline was bent completely forward in her sleep, head on her knees, snoring softly. He figured she might want to see this attraction. He shook her shoulders gently.

  She raised her head sleepily. “Huh?” She looked around and wiped some drool quickly off her chin. “Oh, no. I’m doing it again. How embarrassing! I was up late studying last night, which I’m sure doesn’t help.”

  If she had been some grizzled old man, Dickie probably would have found the situation disgusting, but with this young woman it was somehow endearing. They both stepped out of the bus and watched the rigid, precise movements of the sentries. Once the men had taken their positions, they stared emotionlessly straight ahead.

  Caroline murmured, “Gosh, they’re as stiff as toy soldiers. Where to next, Dickie?”

  “I think the tour guide said we’re going inside Windsor Castle.” Dickie muttered under his breath, “Wonder what changes the Turders made to the place.”

  Caroline giggled. “Did you just say Turders instead of Tudors?”

  Dickie held back a smile. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. But they never should have reigned.”

  “Oh, I know. I love historical f
iction novels, and I once read one about Edward IV and Richard III. I think if I lived back then, I would have supported the Yorks.”

  Dickie knew he liked this woman.

  Once inside, Dickie thought some of the pieces of furniture looked familiar. While the guide drearily recited the history of the castle, Caroline and he continued to chat softly, getting to know each other a little better. He felt wonderfully at ease around her. It was nice being taken for a commoner. In fact, it felt rather freeing.

  Dickie looked around at the gleaming marble and highly polished wood floors. What he wouldn’t have given as a kid to be allowed to glide in his hose down them. But proper behavior had been driven into him since infancy, first as the son of a duke, then as a royal prince of the realm. Making a spectacle would have been unthinkable behavior.

  Dickie tapped his fingers on his chin. Hmmm. Did he dare take his role as a commoner that far? It would be juvenile and stupid. The opposite of regal behavior. Clearly unthinkable. And yet he found that for the first time in his life, he simply couldn’t resist. The group started to proceed from the long gallery into the next room. He grabbed Caroline’s elbow gently, holding her back, as she turned around with a questioning look. He leaned down and whispered, “Do you know what I always wanted to do here?”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Oh, once or twice.”

  “What?”

  “Stand guard and let me know if the group is turning back around. I’ll show you.”

  He quickly kicked off his running shoes.

  “What are you doing, Dickie?” She giggled.

  He ran a few feet backward and then slid forward down the passageway in his socks. He trotted back and coasted even faster the second time. Caroline eyes lit up with excitement as she removed her own shoes and stood in her short skirt with crazily patterned hose. “Let me try.” She ran a few feet and then glided with ease.

  Dickie chuckled. “Come on. Let’s try it, holding hands.” They ran back to the start of the hall and slid together until they both landed on their rumps at the end of the hall, laughing heartily.