Julian Rathbone - Kings of Albion

My curiosity overcame me.

'Lady Uma,' I asked, 'just what means did you use to so ensnare a prince?'

She looked me coolly in the eye. 'Mah-Lo, those Ingerlonders know nothing of the many and varied delights that a woman can bring to a man in bed. All I had to do was suck his cock and stick my finger up his bum. And the one thing I was sure of, and it was part of my plan, was that once I was out of his life he would not wive until he had found a woman who would do as much.' 'And did he?'

'Of course. I do not need to be told these things, I know them. He married me in secret when I threatened to withhold these and other subtler delights. Once he's convinced himself I'm not coming back he'll do it again. I suspect she will be, or may already be, a certain Elizabeth Woodville, a widow of wonderful beauty by their standards having hair like Welsh while gold. Since she is a commoner, and her family were slighted by both Eddie and Warwick when we were all in Calais, and she was widowed at St Alban's where her husband was killed fighting for the Queen, she will be trouble. Bad trouble.'

She said all this with a gleeful certainty.

'How can you be so sure?' Ali asked.

'Never mind.'

'And meanwhile you married him?' 'Why do you sound so incredulous?'

Once we reach London he installs me in Baynard's Castle, the large fortified house in the corner between the river and the west walls of the city, which his family have used for three decades and where he now lives like a prince, receiving embassies as if he is already crowned, remitting taxes and borrowing money instead from the burgesses, withdrawing privileges from their foreign rivals, and so on. He summons Parliament and they proclaim him King Richard the Second's rightful heir, declaring the three Henrys descended from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, all to be usurpers.

They want to crown him there and then, but this he refuses, though he goes to Westminster Abbey and sits on the throne while the regalia of kingship are carried before him. He will not take on the full panoply of monarchy until, he says, the death and desecration of his father are avenged.

I am known only to his intimates and soon I tire of being thus kept secret. I withdraw my favours, refuse to delight him with my tricks. He asks what I want. I tell him I desire to be acknowledged, I want to be his queen. He says he durst not do this until his enemies are vanquished for to do so would cost him the support of some of the most powerful magnates, the Earl of Warwick himself, perhaps. This, I say, I can understand, but for my own satisfaction, and safety too perhaps, he must marry me in secret.

But where? And who will perform the ceremony?

The answer is obvious. I have by then a couple of maids and I send one to Brother Abraham in the churches of St Benet Sherehog and St Pancras, and after a little to-ing and fro-ing it is all arranged. Brother Abraham unites us according to Christian and more ancient rites, on the holiest, most sacred spot in that city. We return to Baynard's Castle and there I remove the tampon of natural sponge, soaked in oil and vinegar…

"The children, twins, who are even now playing with their ayla in the hack rooms while we converse here?'

'Yes, Mah-Lo. They were born in Egypt on our way home, as Ali will tell you.'

'So when King Edward dies, one of them should be King of Ingerlond.'

'It is not a destiny I would wish on anyone. Hut perhaps when those distant savages at the end of the world have civilised themselves, it will be an option their descendants might care to look at. Now, let me hurry on to the close of their story, for soon I must take them home.'

I go north with Eddie and the army. It is clear that before long there will be a battle. He fears for my safety, and it is almost the only sign he gives of having any doubt of the outcome. He leaves me in Pontefract Castle where I make an ally of a child of eight or nine, and I think I should tell you about him. For he with Elizabeth Woodville, is a likely tool. Because of these two I am sure it will be the Tudors who will reign before long in Ingerlond.

Eddie has two younger brothers. He fears leaving them too far behind him: so many have changed sides during these wars, it must have crossed his mind that anyone back in London, hearing perhaps the Queen had gained a victory or even a lying rumour to that effect, might seek favour with her by having them murdered. They are left with me at Pontefract. One is twelve years old, a light-headed, chancy lad, easily swayed, called George. Forget him. It is the other whom I make my slave, who will revenge me for the death of Owen.

He is a twisted, warped boy, in mind as well as in body. He has one leg longer than the other, and something of a hunch on his back. I surmise that a lot of the time, maybe all the time, he is in pain. Such afflictions fester in a lad's soul. But he is also physically strong for his age.

On the day before the battle I meet them, during a brief warm sunny spell, in the castle garden.

George goes off on his own, tossing a ball and catching it in a cup which seems to please him. The younger sits on a bench and I sit beside him. Presently I notice a bag hanging from his belt. It squirms and flicks, as if something is alive and kicking inside it.

'What have you got there?' I ask.

'A baby rabbit,' he replies. 'My dog caught it this morning. They are so stupid when they are young – it thought my dog wanted to play with it and it would not run away.'

Petrified. I think, but do not say so. 'What are you going to do with it?'

'Pull its legs off". Maybe first its ears.'

'You won't kill it first.'

'No. Why should I?'

I shrug. He senses a dare in the air.

I let out the rabbit and do exactly what he has boasted he will do. He takes an ear in each of his fists, and yanks them in opposite directions, each held in his small fist. The rabbit screams. What the boy is doing requires a great deal of effort. At last one ear comes away in his hand. He fears the coney will escape. So now he takes its hind legs and yanks them apart. I suspect he shows some interest in the beast's genitalia. Soon he has it in several pieces, some of which, the larger ones, still flap as if there were life in them.

'This is no worse than the things the public executioner does to traitors,' he says.

'You look askance, Mah-Lo. Haw I upset you? Remember, I am Kali as well as Parvati.'

Anil suddenly this normally beautiful woman used the finger and thumb of each hand to pull down the corners of her eyes and stretch her mouth into

a hideous grimace. Then she stuck out her tongue as broad and fiat as she could make it and waggled it furiously. I flinched, she laughed, and all was back to normal.

'So,' I say to him, when he has kicked away the bloody remains, 'your big brother is king. Would you like to be king?'

He looks at me, all eyes, and plays with the ring on his little finger. 'Of course. When Eddie dies I shall be king.'

'Even if George is still alive?'

'I… doubt he will be.'

'You will be king even if Eddie has children by whomever becomes his queen?' He shrugs.

'I will be king,' he says.

A cloud is over the sun now and suddenly the air is chill. I stand. 'What is your name?' I ask. 'Richard,' he says.

I feel his power in my diaphragm, little boy though he still is. I look at the bloody remains of the rabbit. 'An omen,' I say, and ruffle his hair, thinking, the Inglysshe will surely put Owen's grandson on the throne once they've had enough of this monster.

'Don't do that!' he commands. Then he repeats: 'Yes. I will be king.'

Dear Cousin

Owing to circumstances beyond our control, we were taken back to the north of Ingerlond, to a small place called Towton where we witnessed…