Seeds of Time

Chapter One

AN: I have attempted to make the speech in keeping with the plays but still readable to today's audience. If you have difficulties reading or understanding it, let me know and I'll make it a little more modern. 

The Henry plays are not very factually accurate but mostly, I have gone with their events over the truth. 

I'm not entirely sure where this is going yet but I have a few ideas.

Chapter One

The room was empty of visitors and so after a quick glance to be sure she was alone, Meg dared to sit upon King Edward's Chair, also known as the coronation throne. Legend had it that chair, which had witnessed the coronation of every British monarch since 1308, would grant one wish to the worthy.

Meg didn’t have any specific wishes, she was happy with her life, imperfect though it was, but her thoughts drifted to Philip. She didn’t miss him but she did miss being in a relationship and in the beginning, it had been good.

Her thoughts distracted her from her wrongdoing and it was only the clattering of something from the next room that reminded her that she would be in trouble if caught. She practically ran from the room, almost as if afraid that anyone who happened upon her would see the misdemeanour written on her face.

In her haste, she didn’t notice that the Stone of Destiny, missing from the chair for 50 years since it was returned to the Scots, was back in its home below the seat.

As she ran out of the Abbey, she came upon a scene from the past; the streets thronged with people dressed in period costume and she smiled as she reasoned that in her haste, she must have left by a different door and happened upon a re-enactment.

She wandered around, looking at the stalls and people, taking the atmosphere in. Her garments were a little too new compared to what everyone else was wearing, but in a black maxi dress, a blue cardigan and her leather jacket, currently seated over her handbag, she didn’t look too out of place.

A man in red leather caught her eye as she walked and he winked at her. She returned his smile and he changed direction and walked beside her.

"Good Morrow, fair maiden.”

She decided to play along. “Good Morrow, kind Sir.”

“From whence has’t thou come?”

“Hammersmith.”

He frowned. “I do not know it.”

She smiled, for he must be joking. “Surely you jest.”

“I, jest!?” He sounded insulted but he was grinning. “Not I, by my faith. How dare you besmirch my good name.”

“Then I beg your pardon, sir.”

“And I will grant thou my pardon, just this once, if you provide me with your name.”

He was charming, she’d give him that.

“Meg,” she answered. “And you are?”

“Rarely does a gentlewoman give up her Christian name so easily, but I suppose it only fitting to reveal my own. Thou may call me Hal.”

“Then it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hal.” She gestured around her. “So what is all this?”

“Um, market stalls?” It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“And do they do this often?”

“Almost daily.”

She gave him an odd look, certain that they did not have these re-enactments every day.