The Forgotten Rose {COMPLETED}

Part I: Chapter Seven - The Fall of a Dynasty

The screams from the battlefield rang in Anne's ears as she hid with her mother-in-law Margaret of Anjou. The chapel was almost a mile away from the battlefield, but still Anne could hear it. Swords clashed and men fell as the battle continued.

She imagined her husband at the head of his army wielding a sword, which would kill many men. When the battle ended she would be wife to a murderer. He may have even murdered her old friend Richard and his brothers, he may have ended the adult male line of York. Only an infant boy would stand in his way, but by the time they reached London the boy would be in hiding with his mother. England would be rid of York forever. Elizabeth Woodville would not rise against Lancaster with a little boy to claim the throne. Nobody wanted another child king.

At least then she would be a Princess. If she thought of the profits of her friends death she would smile. She thought of the throne and her prince that would come soon enough. He would grow strong and she would love him more than she did her sister. She would adore him from the moment she woke each morning to the moment she slept each night; he and his many brothers and sisters.

Edward of Lancaster had run ahead of his men with his sword ready to kill. He was a born soldier slaying each man who would come and challenge him. A river of blood ran away from the bodies of the dead and dying.

Men fell left, right and center; Lancastrian or Yorkist they all fell like flies.Young or old, all fell. Men Anne had known since childhood, dying like hunted animals. Bleeding out and suffering was no way for a noble man to die, was it?

York were winning, Edward of York was a strong commander, just like Edward of Lancaster. But York had battle experience and was ten years Lancaster's elder. He knew the battlefield and on that grim day in Tewksbury experience was what would help York to win the battle.

"Let Lancaster win." Anne prayed as she sat in the small chapel. Her eyes were sealed shut and her thoughts turned from her old friends to her new allies. She ignored the cold breeze which ran around her and the smell of the incense as it drifted from the altar, the thick smoke did not choke her, it did nothing. Anne was lost in her own mind, nothing could have taken her thoughts from the battle. The battle that would decide her destiny.

If Lancaster were to win she would always be remembered as The Kingmakers daughter. They would see her as a woman of god, a blessed queen and they would not cross her; for she was Anne Neville, daughter of the Kingmaker and she was proud.

However, if York won they would see the daughter and widow of traitors not a princess or a proud Neville, a mere traitor. She may be pardoned and allowed to marry another. She would marry someone close to the heart of their court, Richard, Duke of Gloucester perhaps. The one brother Edward still trusted, the only brother who could still place her on the throne. The single brother Edward would not assume to steal the throne, the one who could still worship her.

"Lord, I pray for my lord husband and my friends. Let them live, let no more die this day." She said as she ran her hands over her rosary beads. "Whatever the end, make me Queen of England." This she said in her head but she knew god could hear her, he could hear everything.

Silence fell around Anne. No choir boy sang, no other woman muttered her prayer for her husband, son or father. Anne sat upon a pew looking upon the altar of the chapel where she had knelt moments before. It would not be long and her fortune would be revealed. York or Lancaster, she could be handed power or fight for it. Either way someway, somehow she would one day be Queen of England. She would find a way.

"Anne we are to leave. Now Anne." Margaret of Anjou shouted as she burst into the chapel in which Anne sat. Anne did not stir, she ran her rosary over her hand and muttered the name of each man she wished to live. "Anne the battle has ended."