The Mysterious Lady of Hever and the Dukes of Lancaster

By Yvonne K. Lehman

As Lady Lilybeth summers with her father at Hever castle she happens upon the Duke of Lancaster. With Lady Walsingham’s help they devise and implement a plan to restore the John of Gaunt’s line to succession, House of ‘Vere Star.’ Henry VI has been kidnapped by Edward IV, the House of ‘Rose-en-soleil,’ Plantagenet's Master of the Guard, Warwick ‘The Kingmaker.’ In the process Lilybeth falls in love with the Duke to find out there are two Dukes of Lancaster.She finds herself torn between a Duke who seeks to secure his line of succession and hopefully advance to the throne and the other who seeks reward and excitement elsewhere.A tale on the historic ‘War of the Roses’ in the time of Henry VI.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781543498240

Book preview

The Mysterious

Lady of Hever

and the

Dukes of Lancaster

YVONNE K. LEHMAN

Copyright © 2021 by Yvonne K. Lehman. 834221

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

Rev. date: 10/27/2021

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

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HISTORICAL SERIES OF THE ROSES

BOOK INFO

From her youth, Lilybeth had her course set, but she would had never guessed that her life would take a different path. A path of intrigue in the English court with Lady Walsingham as her instructor - not just in ways of being a lady, but also in the practices of deception, manipulation and with Madame Betancourt’s instruction - the powers of seduction. Little did Lilybeth realize she would have to face the ton being the daughter of an influential and famous explorer and as an outcast to the aristocracy. The whispers of the ton hold two meanings in this game of intrigue where Lady Lilybeth is concerned, those that hold the power of Kings and those who wield control through secret devises.

As Lady Lilybeth takes her summers with her father and Lady Walsingham at Hever Castle she happens upon the Duke of Lancaster...unexpectedly. Whom with Lady Walsingham and Lady Lilybeth’s help, devise and implement a plan to restore the descendant of John of Gaunt’s, Henry VI, House of, ‘Vere star,’ to his throne, but one thing stands in their way, Edward IV, House of, ‘Rose-en-soleil,’ Plantagenet’s, Master of the guard, Warwick, ‘The Kingmaker.’

But during the course of their intrigues, Lady Lilybeth finds she is falling for the Duke of Lancaster, {Even when she doesn’t know his true identity}. Only to find out there are two. Lady Lilybeth finds herself torn between a Duke who seeks to secure his line of succession and hopefully advance to the throne and his brother-also a Duke, who seeks to find reward and excitement elsewhere. A tale on the historic War of the Roses in the time of King Henry VI.

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Chapter 1

The birds sang in the trees, as she drew on her pad, sitting underneath the canopy. It was still a couple hours until lunch time as Lilybeth finished up her last drawing of the macaw. The day was warm and inviting the kind of time Lilybeth liked best. The scarlet macaw dressed in blue, red, yellow, and sporting a tad of white around his eyes and bill, was one of the most beautiful specimens she had encountered. The two had been building a repertoire, with one another, for the past couple of years. He was a young macaw seeing he still had dark eyes, she knew this because she had seen the older macaws eyes, and they were usually bright yellow. It had become clear the macaw had grown fond of Lilybeth, seeing for the passed year, he had been waking her up in the mornings and joining her for breakfast.

At first the monkeys were territorial concerning the camp area when the macaw had first shown up that morning. The melee was erratic as the monkeys proceeded to scream, chirp and grunt as they exerted themselves around the makeshift table and chairs that she and her father fashioned from fallen wood not long after they first arrived. Many objections were displaced by the monkeys as they threw whatever they could get their furry little paws on at the macaw. Father was none too pleased as he appeared from the hut having to duck as an object came flying close to his head. He yelled, What have you started here? As he looked at Lilybeth. It was for about four days before they gave up trying to discourage the macaw from the area. Soon monkey-like, macaw-like, and human-kind all found common ground all centered around the plates of foods that were assured to be present every morning. The macaw was very fond of her fruits, being cut, and easily to manage. After a few months, even father began sharing with the macaw he fondly named, Lord Erasmus.

Her father, the famous researcher and philosopher, was world renown for his eccentricity, travels, and for being an enlightenment to the aristocratic masses. Lilybeth had heard stories as her father talked with his manservant, Bosh, while he attended him over the years. Lilybeth had never attended the social functions of the aristocracy, and without a mother, she had little training on the delicacies of being a lady. She had always took note of her father’s austere appearance whenever, he thought, he would be in someone’s company, but not so much around the natives, themselves. He in his twill suit, vest and tie, sitting at his writing desk, his father owned previously, in the makeshift hut in South America, was a curious site to the inhabitants and the monkeys who were native to the surroundings.

Lilybeth looked up when the sun paled out her drawing from her sight as a robust wind threatened to blow away her loose papers. Her most prized possessions in all the world were within a few yards of the other, her father and her musings, which she could not do without one or the other. She looked down to her uncovered knee, grabbed her hem, then she attempted to pull it down. Lilybeth sighed, as she mentally noted, her strange growth spurt that had yielded her abilities. The heat of the day was tolerable thanks to the tree’s shade that seemed miles away as she laid back on the quilted cover her mother made her before she died. She lifted the side of the quilt to look at the little squares of a girl with honey blonde curls, not unlike herself, in different stages of growth. It always drew such a curiosity to her growing up as she always found herself relating to each one and anticipating what it might be like to be the girl in the next scene. She looked at the awkward girl with spindle-like legs and arms with a thin face, then she looked back to her legs, and noticed the resemblances. Lilybeth sighed unhappily as she, once again, pulled at her, ‘too short,’ hem as it bounced back into its previous position.

As many places she had visited with her father, Lilybeth found it imperative to keep detailed writings on the lay of the land, creatures, the natives, and the languages, in case they came back she would not find herself embarrassed or let her father down. This was her second time in South America. It seemed nothing much changed except new arrivals of births between the natives or the animal life.

Today father would be greeting some missionaries and their families that are intent on working with the natives. Lilybeth stood as she heard the sound of children giggling, curious, she started back to the camp. A couple of native boys and a brown headed boy ran past her as she walked up the path. William, stay close. A woman yelled, but Lilybeth doubted the children were listening. She could still smell the dirt that the boy kicked up with his shoes as she walked.

Lilybeth. Her father called, Go explore with the boy.

Lilybeth shook her head and lifted her arms to each side. They are gone, Father. I doubt I could find them now. She said, then walked into the hut. Lilybeth sighed as she moved the net to the side to sit on the bed, with her leg bent. I am almost twelve...

She whispered to herself. What do I have in common with a six year old? Then she opened her pad to write:

‘Eventful or uneventful, which is both, I assume, in the wilds

of this South American country. The Amazon.’

Lilybeth looked up from her pad as she bit down on her quill. What to say...What to say.

‘Dangerous, wild, unpredictable, wet, strange. At the same time….

Slow paced… predictable....’

Uhhh. Lilybeth said as she started to close her pad, when she saw a shadow near the door. Father? Father is that you? She called, not seeing anyone appear, she carefully placed her pad into the last drawer of the writing desk, then she walked out of the hut. Her father was full of smiles as he engaged in conversations around the fire, that the natives had just made. It had been two years since they had been to the main lands or seen the English, so this was a treat for him.

Her father was so engaged that he took no notice to Lilybeth as she stood listening to him giving the newcomers instructions.

We, ourselves, will be heading back to England in a couple of weeks, just before my daughter’s twelfth birthday. Sir Walter said as he leaned back in his chair.

So soon? The man asked.

Ah, yes, unfortunately. Sir Walter replied dryly as his eye looked toward her, then he smiled, lowered his eyes, and took in a deep breath of air before brandishing a huge smile, and then he continued his conversation.

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Lilybeth made her way back to the hut to write as much as she could before the two weeks were up, because she knew most of that time would be used packing and cleaning up the area. As a rule father always told her, ‘One cannot leave traces in a country such as this. Detrimental to the animals and foliage.’ He would say. As she walked in the door of the hut, a candle had been lit. The soft glow was nice and made the shadows huge. Lilybeth laughed at the thought, until she heard another’s laughter coming from inside.

A boy sat in her father’s chair reading her pad. What are you doing, may I ask?

Lilybeth asked as she approached him. Upon hearing her, he closed the book, and stood as she walked up to him to grab it.

He held it high in the air as she struggled to reach it. This is pretty good for a girl. He said.

Thank you. Lilybeth said, Now give it back!

The boy laughed, It was not a compliment. He said with a half smile.

No one asked for your opinion. Lilybeth shot back.

You know there are reasons women are not writers.

I never said I was a writer... It is a journal.

A journal? The boy laughed. What does a spindle legged girl like you, have need of a journal?

Lilybeth felt the anger swell within her as she sucker punched him and grabbed her pad.

Hey you didn’t have to do that? The boy yelled.

Didn’t I? Lilybeth said with satisfaction as she walked out.

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Ah England, Sir Walter said, What is about in England?

Henry was the king, but he lapsed into his malady of senseless babble and incoherent paranoia. That Yorkish fellow then was deemed as Lord protector of the realm. His Generalship have spread those like minded of his loyal gentry around the country infesting the townships. His Queen, Margaret Anjou, and their coming of age son are there with Henry in hopes he will become, yet, a viable king again. Said Sir Mountbatten.

Well, It is true that Henry had shown to be a great and long serving king seeing he was placed at 9 months of age. Sir Walter then stood as he made way to his hut.

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The next morning, Lilybeth finished eating and took off early to do a walk around with her pad, in hand, to make sure she catalogued everything she could. She could feel the rain in the air already as she made her way to the river. She realized she had not catalogued any fish species in her notes, as she laid out her quilt on the ground.

Lilybeth watched the fish jumping as she stood taking in the sight. The sun glistened off the water as she sat and began to write. She especially wanted to note to come back to Peru when she got older so she could explore it without rules. She did like Brazil but it seemed too inhabited for her taste, she noted.

What are you doing? The boy asked. Lilybeth looked around startled, but didn’t see anyone, so she turned back to her notes. So you won’t answer me...you still mad?

Lilybeth just sighed and continued to write.

What does anyone do around here except forage for food and wood?

I guess you have to have an imagination, which you lack. Lilybeth said, then laughed quietly to herself.

The boy scoffed, then sniffed. So how long have you been here?

Two years.

Two years! The boy yelled and put his hand to his forehead moving his bangs. So...what’s there to do...really?

Well, you could work with your parent, or make a journal...like me. You can play with the monkeys...only when they come around you..but you cannot touch them. The boy listened. They are great thieves and will steal whatever you leave lying around.

Lilybeth sighed, Or you can play with the natives.

Play with the natives! You will not find me playing with any natives. They are way below my station. The boy said as his words changed in accent.

Lilybeth looked up. Your station?

Yes, they should be working for me, not being a playmate.

Snobbish are you? I heard tales of boys who are snobbish like you.

Snobbish! I will have you know...

Lilybeth stood up and walked away in the middle of his rant then laughed as she ran finding a place behind a bush. He stomped past her as he made his way back to the camp. Lilybeth looked carefully as she made her way out of the bushes, then took off back to the canopy.

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Yes...oh yes, said the man, Also the French killed off their patron saint called, what was that again dear?

Le Pucelle D’Orleans, dear. Why ever make a peasant a saint of the Holy Catholic Church, is beyond me. The lady said.

Sir Walter furrowed his brow. Killed off a saint, you say?

Yes, yes it was quite extraordinary, if I do say so myself.

Was she not the one, who on behalf of Charles VII of France, was said to have had visions? Sir Walter said.

It is true that Henry’s own father, Henry V and Charles VI died within two months of each other. As if they were both cursed at the grand and saintly Joan’s demise, as horrifying as it was.

Yes, I heard she was burned at the stake, then later exonerated and made a martyr.

Yes. One would think whilst the two patron saints and one archangel gave her visions then she should have seen the betrayal coming. The lady said.

The black death was horrendous in France. Sir Walter shook his head.

Yes, yes, it had almost totally left France without anyone to fight for the cause of Charles VII. If it had not been for the delusion of the peasant I dare say France would had no victories, or standing army to speak of.

It was said, I heard, that the siege of Orleans was the key to the whole kingdom, fore if it had indeed fallen then Edward VII would have lost. Sir Walter sat back in his chair after speaking, then turned his mind to contemplation.

There were many prophecies after Isabeau’s signing of the Treaty of Troyes.

Yes, yes, one prophecy said France would be lost by a woman, hence Isabeau, they say, then regained by, what three other prophecies? Let me see... that a virgin on the, ‘borders of Lorraine,’ would perform some sort of miracles. The man said with a type of sarcastic tone and wonderment in his expression.

Isn’t all amazing. Sir Walter said, Fore she was but nineteen when she died, but did not die of battle or plague, but at the hands of those she fought at a mockery of a trial.

It was true she stood to outshine the French monarchy, and they were very scared at the power of men she wielded.

Had she been just a man, then they would had not feared her...no.

Sir Walter thought adamantly on the cause.

Was she not in a field? Asked the lady.

Yes, Said the man with an amused face, It was the three saints that visited her all at once in her father’s garden, at the tender age of thirteen. Now it was Michael, Catherine and Margaret, I do believe.

Sir Walter tapped the table, She had made a prediction, yet two days before news came to reveal what she had seen.

Yes, she could had not known had she not had a vision, yet 100’s of miles from where she was.

The lady spoke up. She was traipsing around done up like a man. Then she scoffed and looked away.

The man then spoke up, It would not have been safe for a woman to be on such a long journey, it would had been an utter disaster.

"She was on trial for heresy and was not the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Warwick on the tribunal? Sir Walter asked.

Yes, I believe you are correct, Sir Walter.

It was said there was no grounds for it to go to trial. I dare say I never heard of a so-called demon possession, or a bizarre person being a requisite for trial under ecclesiastical law.

The man thought for a minute then said, It was the crime of cross-dressing against her nature that brought the charges of heresy.

But, it was said, she had to protect herself and that those clothes had become all she had been given. Sir Walter said.

Now, Sir Walter, you know the facts, as is, are not exactly true, fore anyone, especially the English knew that this, ‘Maid of Lorraine,’ could not be set free in any capacity, fore to do so all waged wars between the French and English would had ended in English loses. They could not simply set her free, even without a shred of evidence against her, despite Ecclesiastical law, witnesses, testimony, they had nothing.

Sir Walter sighed. They say her remains lay forever more in the Seine River in France.

It is said that she had a thick jowel and deep set serious eyes and medium brown hair and a wide forehead. It was no wonder she was taken for a man when she dressed as such. It was a fact she had a powerful strength surviving upwards of three very serious wounds to her person. The lady said.

Yes, was she not shot with an arrow in the neck near the collarbone, then hit with a crossbow in the leg, and then a stone to her helmet, then burned three times.

She had yet to experience life, Lancastrian or not, it was horrendous. Sir Walter said then looked away and said, Joan of Arc, the maid of Lorraine, rest with the saints in the Seine. Then the man lifted his glass into the air.

Sir Walter sat in quiet contemplation thinking about the young girl of 13, living in France, in fear, after her own home had been burned out, not once, but three times. No doubt the weight of her world, the world as she knew it, beared down upon the child’s shoulders. Sir Walter was sure her parents or those of her village had spoken, probably numerous times over the years of the, ‘Maid of Lorraine,’ and how the grace of God or saints would bestow protections on the individual to the cause. Perhaps she had grown tired of waiting and took up the mantle herself. Sir Walter did not know. He had heard the story from his father and uncle who had claimed to have met her on occasions having been in the wars. They said she had a, ‘valiant countenance,’ and that she was, in fact, ‘blessed by the saints’, with, ‘a powerful strength, uncommon for a woman,’ and that she, ‘radiated a glow of holiness about her person, whilst she carried her banner on her valiant white steed.’ Yes, Sir Walter remembered.

He thought about Lilybeth and how that would have affected her if she had been forced into such uncertainty and trauma. How would she have coped? Would she have yet donned a uniform and had gone to save a country that had no hope of prevailing? He knew his daughter was fiercely independent and headstrong. Sir Walter thought about his uncle’s and father’s descriptions of Joan. She was described as such also. Sir Walter thought about what adamant strength Joan had to possess, as a woman, to overcome her place in man’s world, defying law, and the fear of travelling as a woman. He could hardly imagine, even as a man, that he would have been able to overcome such obstacles. He admired Joan despite whose side she was on. He felt a concern and care for the young woman and felt he knew her from all the stories he had heard over the years. He could not fight the sadness he felt, for her, when it did not have to end as such.

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Back at the camp the woman called, Ellery, where is your little brother?

Ellery walked around looking in huts as he called his name, William... William.

After walking in front then behind the huts he found William digging with the natives in the dirt behind one of them. William. Ellery said stoutly and shook his head, ‘no,’ as he grabbed William by the nape of his collared shirt. As they walked Ellery explained that they could not be seen with the natives, ‘Propriety and protocol and the like’.

Why Ellery? Did you know there are jewels in the soil. Artifacts? Ellery still walked fast as he listened and rolled his eyes. We could be rich! Ellery sat William in his seat at the table. But, but. William said as he turned trying to carry on his conversation then giving up as the adults joined. William turned in his seat, grabbed his napkin and laid it in his lap.

Ellery sat as Lilybeth made her way on the other side of her father. The meal was typical of native cuisine, some berries, a bird cooked over fire, and some greens. Ellery turned up his nose as everyone began to eat.

Sir Mountbatten was a stowish man who was not picky about food and had a carnivorous appetite as he dug in. Eat up boy. He said to Ellery. Your father...God rest his soul. Left you in my care to make a man out of you, for the new world. And by George I will. Sir Mountbatten took a big bite of food and continued. Your blessed mother, God rest her soul, ...my sister, Then he took a drink, married well above her station...to a good man, your father. Pure blood.

Lilybeth ignored the conversation as she thought about what she would catalogue next on one of her expeditions.

William ate then went over to Lilybeth and whispered. Look. He said then held his hand below the table.

Lilybeth watched as his hand opened to reveal a ruby. Where did you get that?

Shhh. William said with a small smile. It’s in the dirt.

In the dirt?

Yeah, I found some and I had to break pieces off of it...in the dirt. Lilybeth turned the jewel in her hand as the fire reflected off of it.

You can have it. William said.

No, I can’t...

Yes, I have others. Then he stood and walked away.

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The next morning Lilybeth hurried to open the bag that held the ruby. As she dug, she thought it must had been a dream, until she felt it in her hand. Her father was just making his way out of the hut when she pulled it out to look at it. Oh! Lilybeth giggled as she held it up then she hurried to put it back before walking out.

Lilybeth heard William laughing so she followed the sound. William was so happy as he and his newfound friends explored. Hey Lily. They said they want to show me more.

More?

Yeah different.

How do you know what they said?

I had them tell your father.

Lilybeth laughed. Well, I think we should keep the secret until we get older so we can come back, because if an adult finds out, they will get it all and there will be nothing left. William nodded as he thought. I will go get my pad and I will draw maps, so we can find it again later. Just wait for me here...okay? William nodded.

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Lilybeth hurried back to the hut as fast as she could. The adults were sitting around as her father instructed them on the native language...the crash course, so to speak. Enough to help them relay needs to the villagers in hopes they could be able to make them understand.

Lilybeth grabbed her pad and ran back to William, but not before Ellery saw her and began to follow. She knew that Ellery would be hard and disapproving of William’s endeavor, if he found out. Lilybeth had to make sure he did not interfere with their plans.

What are you doing? Asked Ellery.

Oh...I was just going to sit with the native women and make bracelets.

Oh. Said Ellery.

You can come along if you like. They love to braid boys hair. Lilybeth said trying to stifle a giggle.

Uhm... no. Ellery said as he slowly turned to walk away.

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Lilybeth made her way back to William then they took off to find the well hidden cave. I do not think that it is safe. Said Lilybeth, Do not worry. You do not have to go in, if you do not want. William said as he made his way in. One of the native boys ran away and soon returned with a torch lit.

Inside the cave the walls glistened in little specks as the torch illuminated them.

Wow! Said Lilybeth. I have been here for two years and I am just finding out about this now! William’s eyes were wide as he touched the cave facing.

The clear parts are smooth.. feel. A few broken shards were found on the cave floor, William inspected them, giving one to Lilybeth. Lilybeth made a map but some main parts would have to wait until the day her and her father left to get it written more precise. She made a copy of the way from the camp to the cave and gave it to William. It had been an exhilarating day and Lilybeth had not felt so tired in her life as she made her way to the hut. The bed felt good as she laid down and quickly she fell asleep.

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The animals were spry in the early morning hours and wreaking havoc in the camp. Lady Mountbatten was screaming which startled Lilybeth from her slumber. Lilybeth rubbed her eyes as she raised up from the bed. She hurried to dress before coming out of the hut. As soon as Lilybeth stuck her head out she knew exactly what happened. Someone decided to try and touch a monkey, something Amazon monkeys do not stand for. Lilybeth grabbed her bag and pad and then she crept away from the melee. It was not long before Ellery joined her as she walked. Was this your doing? Lilybeth asked, but Ellery did not answer. It wasn’t but a few yards to Lilybeth’s favorite place of solace. Lilybeth took a seat under the canopy, began drawing and noting key information about the cave, for William, and any other things she could think of. Ellery watched as she wrote.

Grab that log and put it over here and have a seat. You are making me nervous.

Lilybeth said as she continued to write. Ellery walked over but could not lift the log, which Lilybeth knew he would not be able to.

Those frail limbs of yours unable to lift a piece of wood?

After struggling a while Ellery gave up and just took a seat on the ground. I thought about taking a swim, want to join me?

It is a fact, that last night, there was a very hard rain. After a rain that hard, it is not very prudent to get in a river, especially if the river looks low.

Why is that?

Cause that means there is some water trapped, maybe by beavers or debris, and it can break free at anytime and wash you out to sea. Lilybeth went back to task as Ellery watched the water.

It’s not so bad here, Ellery said, It will be hard when you leave.

Lilybeth looked up from her pad. I am sure that you will learn to rule the whole Amazon before I see you again.

I am not sure when that would be ‘cause my uncle wants me to see the world, to broaden my perspective, or something like that. Ellery sighed.

Wow...you are lucky. My father mainly likes to see the untouched landscapes and steers away from society, as a whole, whenever possible.

I have to know the customs and the people who run the governments of allied and unallied countries.

So why here?

Uncle brought me here to learn survival and to be a man.

I did not know that being in the wild would make you into a man. Would you not grow into one anyway?

Yes, I suppose that I would. I believe it is to make me into a certain kind of man. They sat and talked about their surroundings until late in the evening, then they became hungry and tired and decided to go back to camp to eat and go to bed.

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The next morning the rain had everyone, who did not want to venture out, stuck indoors. But under Sir Walter’s advice the grown ups would spend the day together and the children would have a chance to stay in Lilybeth’s hut and play games. This did not hold well for Lilybeth as they came piling in. Sir Walter looked at the bunch and stood for a moment making a memory, then he caught himself, shook his head a tad and smiled, then said, with a touch of sadness, Well, I will leave you to it. Then he walked out the door.

William was curious as he inspected the hut, which was not unlike the one they had for use. Ellery just walked around in circles not knowing what to say or do, but not touching anything. They finally sat down in awkward silence, as Ellery looked at William in a type of urging for him to start a conversation. William put his finger to the side of his mouth, in thought, trying to go over in his mind what he should speak about. It did not help that Ellery continued to force William into speaking before he was ready. Finally William looked up with big bright eyes when he finally found a subject, You will like London. William said with a smile.

I will? Lilybeth said in question.

Have you not been to London? Ellery asked.

I was but a babe when me and father left.

It is father and I, not me and father. Ellery said as he rolled his eyes.

Oh. Said William and then he looked down, thinking he had brought up the wrong subject.

And no she will not like London. Ellery said as he rolled his eyes at William.

William looked down sadly, as Lilybeth looked over.

And why might that be? Lilybeth asked.

The Plantagenets, Uncle says.

The Plan...ta. Lilybeth stuttered out as she shook her head.

Ellery sighed largely with lowered eyes and raised a brow, then in his aggravated and harsh tone of voice he said, The Plantagenets. They are just a bunch of usurpers. The disgust showed on Ellery’s lips as he spoke.

Lilybeth smiled as her brows went together and she shook her head again, Usurpers?

Ellery looked at her and rolled his eyes again, A usurper. It is someone pretending they have rights to the English throne.

Lilybeth thought for a second, then she said, I thought only those who had the bloodline were able to be next in line to the succession?

Ellery sighed again, very deeply, finding himself totally bored with the conversation, and then in a higher pitched voice from his already high voice he said, Like there are not two sides to a tree, so it is with the monarchy, which is a continuous and constant bickering argument. Ellery said as he blew out air from his lips making his lips pucker.

Lilybeth thought for a second then said, Would not both sides have a right to succession?

Ellery scoffed, Like the woman’s side has rights in a man’s court. Ellery then gave Lilybeth a look of disgust at what he assumed was her audacity of asking such a question.

And I will not like London because of that? Lilybeth said.

Ellery shook his head.

William spoke up seeing Ellery’s frustration over the constant explanations, There is screaming, yelling and the like. William said.

It is war, you buffoon. Ellery said.

Lilybeth could feel her anger swell at Ellery’s insensitive words. You should not call William names.

Why not? ‘Cause he is a buffoon.

William stood, now angry at Ellery. I will have you know I am not a baboon. Then William put his hands on his hips hard and glared at Ellery as if to challenge him to a fight.

Ellery looked over and when he saw William and his face twisted in anger, he broke out in laughter.

Lilybeth put her hand over her mouth to hide her chuckles, but she could not. William, who looked at them laughing also began to laugh, himself. Lilybeth, Ellery and William ate, took a nap, then awakened to find it still raining.

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Sir Walter sat taking tea with Sir and Lady Mountbatten. Hmm. Sir Walter said as he sipped the tea. It is true I have not had tea, Then Sir Walter looked up and squinted his eye trying to guess, in about a year.

I am glad you are enjoying the tea. Sir Mountbatten said. It is imperative, for our travels, that is, that we have our tea.

Lady Mountbatten just sat bored as she looked away.

London and the monarchy is not how you remember it, Sir Walter.

How so? Replied Sir Walter.

There are the continuous contentions of the country Lancastrians and the Township Yorkish. Always in the struggles. Sir Mountbatten said then he took another sip.

What is this struggle you speak of Arthur?

Lady Mountbatten looked up from her tea. It is yet a power struggle. One denies so the other does also.

Quite right. Sir Mountbatten agreed. If a Lancastrian wants to go into a township owned by the Yorkish, they are denied. The same is said of trades or the selling of goods. It is all just maddening. Sir Mountbatten said.

It was one, of such reasons, we had left. Lady Mountbatten added.

Sir Walter just listened, then took of a desert that was laid out. It had all became quite unruly. Lady Mountbatten said. Then she whispered, A lack of proper propriety.

Unruly. I do enjoy your choice of words. Sir Mountbatten said as he looked over to his wife. It was quite dangerous, fires, thefts, killings as one sleeps. So, yes, unruly it was. Sir Mountbatten said as he stood and stretched looking through the open door of the hut as the rain poured down, then he took another sip of his tea. Then Sir Mountbatten looked around to Sir Walter with cup in hand. It is the ridiculous expectations of the magnates. The Lords of basic citizenry ask for numerous large retainers, and who has the funds to waste on their monetary war? Not I. Sir Mountbatten said then turned his head back to the door.

Sir Walter furrowed his brow in contemplation. Which are the culprits instigating this?

Both sides I fear. It is all an attempt to outdo the other. A pure King’s ransom and a theft of the loyalist of subjects that are at the mercy of this pudder contest. Sir Mountbatten said now showing anger. I myself refused to be a part of the whole matter. I find it is cheaper to travel the world than to wait for retainer after retainer to drive me out of home and land.

Sir Walter looked up to Sir Mountbatten, What are you saying? That you have sold all that you owned in London?

In London, in Edinborough, in Ravenspur. Sir Mountbatten had a nonchalant look on his face that Sir Walter could not make out.

And just like that all your family holdings ...gone? Does that not bring a sense of abandon? Sir Walter asked.

Not particularly. Sir Mountbatten said, then Lady Mountbatten repeated.

Not Particularly. She too had a placid look upon her face as if none of that mattered at all.

Sir Walter sat thinking of how, it all could be, that one would lose all their family holdings and be oblivious to what they, in fact, lost. Was not the history of their great houses not enough to pay whatever the retainers might be to keep something so precious? Sir Walter looked up, still with the furrowed brow, feeling sad for the Mountbattens’ that they took the situation in stride. So I believe it took a great amount of contemplation to come to this resolve.

No, not particularly. Sir Mountbatten said.

How so. Now Sir Walter found himself completely and utterly confounded.

Sir Mountbatten turned with a rueful smile, Well Sir Walter, once we had gotten over the initial shock and disbelief, then anger of the whole of the situation we came to realize the aspects, as it were, of our good fortune.

Sir Walter’s brow lifted as he questioned Sir Mountbatten, Good fortune?

Why, yes... Sir Walter, It had come to, Sir Mountbatten had moved his hand to include Lady Mountbatten, making Sir Walter look over at her as she sat with raised head as if she had a secret to be proud of, and with her eyes lowered, then Sir Walter realized the sense that he deemed nonsensical had everything to do with her urging, then Sir Mountbatten continued, "Our attention that there was a substantial profit to