- A Forgotten Legend Anaivere The First Part Nine Tower Of London

Tùy Chỉnh

Tower of London, which formerly a Norman royal castle, occasionally a fortress, was a prison used for imprisoning nobilities and royalties in some occasions. This place later was famous for the ghosts such as the unfortunate Tudor queens of England, Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, Catherine Howard and little princes Edward the Fifth and Richard of Shrewsbury. Our good Queen Anaivere was also one of the residents here, as she was convicted for treachery but too important to be executed. At least for the time being.

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That night, Queen Anaivere, without any of her knights to escort, wielding her trusty rapier and confronted her own cousin in his bedchamber. After knocked out all of the guards as easy as it was, she boldly stepped through the hall, straight forward to finish this affair between the two monarchs.

The young King, who was just ten years old at the moment, but he inherited his father's strong mind, he could be called as a "ruler-born" Henry. Devastated that he wasn't chosen as the heir apparent by his grandmother's decision before he was born, gave the future of the kingdom into that sixteen-year-old Princess Anaivere, made him born as the second-in-line, he blamed all of his anger and took revenge on his cousin.

After found out the King's bedchamber, she silently opened the door and drew out her rapier, called the young King. The King was sitting on his bed, going to yell for guards, but before he could do it, the cold blade was next to his throat.

"You would not harm a child, would you, Anaivere the First?", murmured King Henry.

"When you crowned as king, you were not a child anymore, Henry. This is why Grandmother didn't let Uncle John's eldest son be the heir apparent. You once said, a girl could not be the monarch, then tell me, could such a boy who even does not know how to protect his own kingdom be the monarch?", said the Queen with somewhat an angry tone.

"For some exception, then yes", replied the young King, "... it is unnatural for a niece of the king to be Queen, is it not?"

"It was our Grandmother's desire, our Grandmother's will. You blasphemed the previous monarchs by burning her will and Uncle Richard's will! The throne is neither a game, nor a tournament; it is a war and only the champion deserves it. I have been the Crown Princess for exact sixteen years, I understand my people, my kingdom. And you? You are just a child who knows nothing about ruling a kingdom. You are leading England into doom when you have power in hands. Give back my throne, or else..."

"What else, my dear Anaivere Renata Plantagenet? As Father once said, you were too naive to rule as Queen! And, to be honest, I myself did not burn Grandmother's will. Father told me to do so on his deathbed, and I just ordered my trusty knight to do that for me..."

"Silence, boy! I had been through the First Barons' War, the Magna Carta, the Fifth Crusade and I cannot solve this political problem?"

"Yes, you cannot..."

King Henry fairly smiled as his cousin moaning in pain. Lord Macley had sneaked in and secretly stabbed Queen Anaivere from the back with a sharp dagger. She collapsed on the floor, unbeknownst to whom had impaled her.

"Did she harm you, sire?", asked Lord Macley.

"No. Thou arrived just in time, Lord Macley...", replied the young King, "... and if you please, call the maid to replace this carpet..."

Suddenly, Lord Macley was almost impaled by the Queen, who was still awake. She tried to re-attack with her rapier, but the dizzy feeling from loss of blood and the pain knocked her down before she could touch Lord Macley's dagger's blade.

"Light-headedness is surely undefeated, is it not, sire?"

The Queen's lady-in-waiting, Sylvia Walther accidentally passed by and saw her mistress lying unconscious on the floor. She hopelessly ran toward her mistress and called in tears:

"Your Majesty, do you hear me? Please, please, wake up...! Don't let me nervous...!"

King Henry pointed at the moveless body on the floor and ordered his trusty knight:

"Such uncomfortable when thou hast a first cousin who is also a monarch... Imprison her into dark dungeon, and make sure she will not disturb... forever...!"

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The Queen was chained up and imprisoned under a dark dungeon. One day, two days, a week, then a month she hadn't been seen the sunlight. The dagger wound on the back had been torturing her day to day. She could see nothing but the endless darkness. Until a day, or night, she couldn't tell, a torchlight from the end of the dark corridor appeared. This caused a surprise. The light came closer and closer until she could blurredly see two people. Then she recognised that was Lord Timbley and Lady Sylvia, her royal advisor and lady-in-waiting. Lord Timbley took a chain of keys out of his belt and opened the cell door. Lady Sylvia entered with a basket on her arm while Lord Timbley stood outside and waited.

"Your Excellency?", called Lady Sylvia, "Here I am, your humble servant"

The Queen weakly looked up.

"The peasants have known that you were imprisoned, they have strongly objected and forced His Majesty to release you out of the dungeon... He said he could not because of your treachery to the kingdom and he would send you into the Tower of London to wait for execution...", tearfully said Lady Sylvia.

"He can't execute Her Excellency as the importance of hers... England citizens will give him what for if he kills Her Excellency", objected Lord Timbley, "a ten-year-old King could not handle all of this; although, with the rights of a King, he officially declared that Her Excellency was no longer mentioned as Queen of England..."

He gave the shackles' key to Lady Sylvia to unchain the Queen. A month without seeing the light and due to starvation, she didn't have strength to stand up or walk. She weakly leaned on Lady Sylvia's arms and tiredly closed her eyes. The light of the torch slowly faded away from her eyes, and the call of her lady-in-waiting got smaller and smaller until she could not aware about anything.

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October 1217...

The absence of Queen Anaivere and the reign of the ten-year-old King Henry the Third had put England in chaos. Revolts against the King was held in many towns, protests, and rebellions. They forced the young King to give up his throne and return their beloved Queen Anaivere. Under citizens' pressure, he knew responsibilities of a monarch weren't such as easy as pie. A monarch must make sure their citizens were well-fed and out of misery. A monarch takes care of the kingdom, not rule. At his young age, all of things he could do was run into his nanny's lap and cry. He was still unready to be the ruler of this whole kingdom, unlike what King John and other high-ranked nobilities had expected of. The throne might have to wait for another ten years, or be given back to the thoughtful thirty-three-year-old Anaivere Plantagenet, or, as we would like to call, "the predecessor".

Talking about our unfortunate Queen, she was gravely ill at the moment. After a month without touching the sunlight and was poorly fed with a small piece of sourdough bread and water each two days, she had become as pale as grave and as skinny as a skeleton. She was imprisoned in the Tower of London, with a maid would serve her to the rest of her life.

The maid who was sent to take care of the former queen was a young lady of eighteen and had a beautiful name, Rosette. She is a niece to Lord Timbley, had charming amber eyes and dreamy auburn locks. Rosette and his uncle were also two of the Rebels, the name which the young King's advisor, Lord Macley gave to the ones who were on Queen Anaivere's side.

November 1217...

Robin Hood and Alan-a-Dale all knew the terrible news but they could do nothing but sit and watch the whole kingdom became a living hell under the reign of the ten-year-old King Henry the Third. In fact, the extreme power was on his advisor and trusty knight, Lord Macley's hand; the young King was just able to agree or not to his decision.

24 December 1217...

It was Christmas Eve, also the deceased King John's birthday, but unfortunately he couldn't have celebrated his own fiftieth day of birth. Talking about our dearest Anaivere Plantagenet, her situation grew worse and worse day by day. When everyone had no hope that their dear Anaivere would pass the night, a miraculous thing happened. Ellen had been trying to comfort Lady Sylvia, who was praying the whole month for her "Little Princess", then the midnight bell tolled. The candle by Anaivere's bed suddenly was put out. Rosette thought about something terrible was befalling, and she held her mistress's hand, cried tragically. Then...

"Wh... Who art... thou? And why... art thou... holding my hand and crying?"

A weak voice came out. Rosette stopped crying, wiped away the tears to see clearly that Anaivere was looking at her, confusedly.

"I... I am... Rosette, your maid, Your... Excellency"

"Ro...sette?"

"Yes, Your Excellency"

"Why... were thou crying?"

"I... was so happy..., Your Excellency"

"Which day... is it?"

"The Cathedral's bell had tolled, Bethlehem star shone our way. Merry Christmas, Your Excellency", smiled Rosette in relief.

By Heaven's sake, Lord wouldn't let his precious rose, whom he had sent down to change England's unfortunate fate, die. This was the end of a golden era of England, and the beginning of a forgotten legend - Anaivere Renata Plantagenet.

The misfortune of one might be that one's sacrifice to save the others' souls.