The Star-Crossed--Pawns and Queens spin-off story #4

[Evie]

The Star-Crossed

May 10, 1457
Near the city of Rhemuth
Somewhere beyond the city walls
Late morning

Prince Cinhil slowed his horse to a walk, knowing there was no hope of catching up with the King's squire Aidan's faster mount, although that wasn't really the point of the whole exercise. The Royal Healer had instructed him to continue with moderate exercise as much as he was able to, in hopes that strengthening his body would help to improve his overall health, although in recent months Cinhil had begun to become very familiar with the boundary between what level of exercise would enable him to feel tired but still reasonably well afterwards and what would prove to overtax him. The boundary seemed to keep shifting, though, which was annoying. Just that morning, a simple wrestling match with Colin had left him quite winded, and while Colin had begun to catch up with Cinhil in adult strength, if not quite in height, Cinhil had never had so much difficulty in besting him before. Colin's wrestling skills had improved, it must be said, but not quite by that much. Cinhil was well aware that the difficulty lay with his decreasing stamina.

Aidan looped back, reining in his horse next to Cinhil's. "Is Moonlight enjoying his leisurely walk?" he teased.

Cinhil patted his boyhood horse's neck. It was true he had much swifter mounts available to him, but Moonlight had been his first horse, given to him by his father when he had outgrown his pony, and he was very fond of the gentle but somewhat stubborn beast. "He is! Look at all this new spring growth around us! I'm enjoying seeing it, and Moonlight is enjoying trying to eat it." He guided the horse a few steps forward, away from a weed that Moonlight was giving an experimental snuffle, but which Cinhil knew might disagree with him later if the horse attempted to ingest it.

Cinhil's young senior and junior pages, William de Lacey and Edmund de Nore, were beginning to catch up with them, making a game of it by engaging each other in a foot race. William, a little over a year older, had the advantage of the younger page, but Edmund was certainly making him work for his victory, Cinhil was pleased to see. He grinned as the boys arrived, slightly out of breath and puffing a bit, though certainly less than Cinhil would these days at the end of such a long run.

"I'll let you lads catch your breath, but then I'll need you to mind the horses while Aidan and I walk on a bit further. We have a few matters to discuss in private, so I will need you two to see to it that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, Your Highness," said young William, his breathing beginning to return to normal.

"We will be lightly warded, so you might not see us right away if you should come looking, but you know how you can call for me if there is genuine need," Cinhil reminded his senior page.

"Yes, sire," said the boy as Cinhil dismounted, handing him Moonlight's reins.

#

"Do your pages know about me?" the Banoidhre Aoife asked nearly as soon as they had settled onto Cinhil's spread cloak concealed underneath the dome of her wards. Cinhil had allowed her to set them, both to spare himself the energy expenditure as well as because her magical touch was more subtle than his and he appreciated watching her at work.

"William does," he told his father's squire, much preferring her natural form to the male guise she normally wore, especially while she was wearing those fitted hosen. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, intercepting a knowing smirk on Aoife's lovely features. "Edmund suspects, I think. But don't worry, both are naturally discreet, but even if they weren't, I've set controls on them to prevent them from sharing secrets that are best left unshared." He lay back, taking her hand in his, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her fingers. "Have you spoken to Cormac?"

"I have." Aoife sighed, settling in next to him, her light auburn tresses spilling over his shoulder, intermingling with his straighter raven hair. "He wasn't very amenable to the idea to me wedding with you, even though our sister Gráinne has already proven fertile and well able to succeed me as the Banoidhre if I were to cede my birthright to marry a Mainlander." She sighed, rolling onto her side to face him, one arm gently encircling his waist. "And truth be told, Cin, now that I've had more time to think the idea through, I don't think I would be able to do that. I do adore you, and I thought I would be able to give up my birthright for your sake. But even though I am certain that Gráinne's daughter Orlaith could shape up to be a worthy heiress to Llyr someday and any son she has in future could be molded into a strong Ard-Tiarna, I wouldn't be the one who has the shaping of them. I am not sure I am able to give up the mandate the Swift Sure Hand has bestowed on me to help shape Llyr's future. It would be like you giving up being the Heir to Gwynedd in order to move to Llyr and sire the future Ard-Tiarna and Banoidhre. Even if Uthyr were to allow you to pass your birthright down to Colin instead, would you?"

Cinhil sighed, running a lock of Aoife's hair through his fingertips. "No. But I had to ask. I'm extremely fond of you, you know."

She smiled. "You're extremely fond of getting kissed by me, you mean."

He laughed. "That too," he admitted, leaning over to drop a light kiss on her lips. Sobering, he added, "But seriously, I do need to wed, but I'm running out of viable options."

"There's still Mechtild of Thuria," Aoife reminded him.

"Sweet Jesú, no!" Cinhil chuckled. "Call me shallow, but I will need to be at least a little bit attracted to whomever I wed if I'm meant to sire heirs with her. Although I do feel a bit sorry for poor Mechtild, because I know she's in a similar predicament to the one I find myself in. No one is exactly queueing up to marry the Sickly Prince of Gwynedd after that debacle of a showing last tourney season."

"That was hardly your fault, mo chroí," Aoife assured him, tightening her embrace as she studied his downcast expression with concern. "Have you had any other fainting spells or other bad turns since the tournament?"

"Some dizzy spells, shortness of breath, that sort of thing. Not passing out and falling off my horse in the middle of a damn joust and having a seizure on the field, though. I tend to limit the chances of something else like that happening again nowadays." Cinhil closed his eyes. "How in the hell am I meant to lead our armies if Gwynedd ever ends up in another war, Aoife? Maybe I should just hand it all off to Colin and go sire babies in Llyr after all, not that I can imagine Father letting me do so."

"As much as I would personally enjoy that, at least assuming you would be intending me to be the bearer of miniature Cinhil Haldanes, I'm really not sure that would serve Uthyr's purposes as well, at least with Colin still completely besotted by Lady Melisande. That's a true love match if I've ever seen one. Colin wouldn't thank you at all for making him the heir to Gwynedd."

"I know, although I'm more than a little annoyed by my dear brother just at the moment. He doesn't seem to realize his chances of eventually persuading Father to change his mind about Mellie would have been higher if he hadn't gone and sired a child on her! Balian's birth has put confirmation to the rumors that were flying around about the two already, making it all but certain that Gwynedd will never accept her as a proper Queen now." Cinhil shook his head. "It's a shame, because Mellie is bright and capable, and it's possible she could have been taught what she needs to know to be a proper consort to Colin, but now we'll likely never know. Even if he does end up being allowed to marry her, the paternity of any future children they might have would always be in some doubt, because there are those who will assume if she would lift her skirts for Colin without insisting on him wedding her first, she would do it for others as well. That's not at all fair to Mellie, I know, but unfortunately that's how a great many people would think."

"Is that why you've never pushed for more than just my kisses, mo chuisle, even when it's been obvious you wanted more? I'd not have denied you, you know, although for both our sakes I would have insisted on a proper handfasting first at the very least. Though I suspect that would hurt you more than help you, offering you only a temporary form of marriage when it's a permanent commitment that you need. You aren't one to give your heart lightly to a lass, are you, Cinhil Haldane?"

He chuckled. "You have my measure, haven't you? You're right, I'm not, and I've already given you far more of my heart than I ought." He kissed her brow. "I wouldn't want to risk ruining your chances of making a good marriage someday, Aoife. I know Llyrian culture allows you a little more leeway when it comes to allowable relationships, but if you should ever lose your heart to a Mainlander someday...."

"You mean, besides you?"

"Besides me. Someone who is actually able to offer you marriage without both of you having to figure out who is going to cede their birthright for whom."

Aoife shrugged. "That's not likely to happen. Truth be told, I'll probably just end up finding someone whose company I find enjoyable enough to bear my heirs and spares with. Llyr might allow me a few more freedoms than a Mainlander princess enjoys, but at the end of the day, a Banoidhre still serves much the same purpose. We're peaceweavers, educators, and breed stock. The main difference is that I'm also meant to know which end of a sword or spear to hold. But beyond all that, love is considered a secondary consideration."

"You're worth so much more than that, though!" protested Cinhil.

"And that is why I love you, because you believe so," said Aoife.

"Except you love Llyr more," Cinhil replied with a sigh. "Oh well, I had to try." He took her hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Father thinks he might have found a match for me despite the difficulties, but I asked him to hold off making the arrangements until I had a chance to speak with you first."

Aoife gave him a startled glance. "He knows about us?"

"No, I meant..." Cinhil laughed. "I just asked if I could have a week or two to think about it. I didn't mention you specifically. I think he forgets his favorite squire is actually a woman, and for the sake of these outings we enjoy together, I've done my best not to remind him of that fact. I assume you've told him you're Llyr's Banoidhre and not Cormac's younger brother, though?"

"It may have been mentioned only once in passing, never to be alluded to again, for similar reasons," Aoife admitted with a chuckle. "Which is why I wondered. I couldn't imagine how that conversation might have gone, if you'd told the King you couldn't agree to a marriage arrangement without talking it over with his squire Aidan first." Glancing up at him curiously, she asked, "So, who has he found?"

"The King of Joux has a daughter of marriageable age, but I think he's had some difficulty getting offers for her, or at least that's what I surmise since he seems eager to offer her up for me." Cinhil gave Aoife a wry smile. "Little surprise if he's had difficulty finding a match for her, given what I've heard about the man in recent years. But she apparently needs a husband as much as I need a wife, and Father seems to think that perhaps allying our kingdom with Joux might help to keep King Renier on a short leash where some of his less seemly aspirations are concerned. I rather doubt it–for that matter, even Father seems dubious that it would actually work–but if I haven't heard anything to recommend Renier as a father-by-marriage, at least I also haven't heard anything about the girl herself to make me think there's anything wrong with her. None of us can help who our relations are, after all. Who knows, if I were Renier's daughter, I might be eager for the opportunity to escape his court."

"I hope the lass is nothing like her father," said Aoife, sounding dubious. "I met him once. Thankfully in my male guise rather than in my true form, though honestly I'm not sure that was much better. The man made my skin crawl, and his brat of an heir was even worse. I don't recall seeing any daughters at his court, though. Or for that matter, many women at all, aside from a few chambermaids who mostly seemed to be trying to blend in with the furnishings as much as possible, and a few courtesans who looked and acted so similar to one another, one must presume King Renier prefers a certain type. He offered me one." She shuddered. "Even if I were inclined towards women, I'm pretty sure I'd prefer nearly any other on the planet besides that overly painted vixen!" An image popped into Cinhil's head of a sultry, sloe-eyed brunette dressed in a garish gown that fit her like an overstuffed sausage casing, her lingering vestiges of natural beauty almost completely covered over by cosmetics that appeared to have been applied by a heavy hand with a trowel.

"That's terrifying!" Cinhil said with a strangled laugh. "I'd be too frightened to touch her. That gown might explode, which could lead to getting a concussion from an impact with those breasts! Thank Jesú his daughter looks nothing like that, at least if her portrait is to be believed. Not that it's a very good likeness, I don't think, but it certainly looks better than that!" He fished inside his belt pouch briefly, drawing out a small pendant inside a velvet pocket and handing it to Aoife, who studied the tiny portrait on it intently.

"I see what you mean. The artist could have used a few more lessons in human anatomy; the princess looks more like a religious icon than an actual person in this limning." Aoife frowned, thinking back to her visit to Renier's court. "On second thought, I might have seen this girl after all. I just would never have guessed her to have been a princess, though now that I think back, there's more than a little bit of resemblance between her features and Prince Rémy's." Cinhil received a second mental image, this time of a shy young woman holding a young girl's hand, both peeking timidly into the Great Hall from a curtained door for a few brief moments, wistfully watching the feasting and entertainment before being shooed away by the frowning King. Something in the young red-haired woman's haunting expression tugged at his heartstrings.

"That's Alixa of Joux?"Cinhil asked.

"So it would seem, if she's the girl in your portrait," said Aoife.

Cinhil was silent for a long moment. Rationally speaking, he could hardly think of a worse choice for a future Haldane Queen than such a timid little mouse of a girl. But then again, looking in the mirror lately, he could hardly think of a worse choice for a future Haldane King either. There was no denying he was in a pretty desperate situation. Perhaps Alixa was too.

Maybe, if she was willing, they could help each other. Or maybe, just maybe, he was a fool. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a wistful smile.

"What are you thinking, Cinhil Haldane?" Aoife asked him.

"I'm thinking of telling Father to go ahead with arranging the match." He sighed. "Am I an idiot?"

Aoife shrugged. "I've never known you to be one. You need heirs for Gwynedd, Cin. I can't provide them for you, as much as I'd like to, which means someone else will need to. And for that, you'll need to marry. It seems a logical enough choice, if she's willing to wed with you and you're willing to have her, and if you can stomach Gwynedd forming an alliance with Joux."

"But is it the right choice?" he asked.

She gave him a wry smile. "I can't answer that. Only time can tell."

"And that's the one thing I might not have much left of," said Cinhil. "My Healer tells me if I'm lucky, I might get another ten years of life. Cinhil Haldane, dead by my thirties, just a little jot in the pages of history. Father might well outlive me, you know."

"He might; he might not. Many never even make it to thirty, Cin. Your heart might give out at twenty-nine. I might die in childbirth trying to produce the next Ard-Tiarna or Banoidhre of Llyr. No one knows what the future holds in store for us. We can only make the best of our present."

"True." Cinhil sat up. 'We'd best be getting back. Father will be expecting you soon."

"You're right." Aoife started to disperse the wards, but paused, glancing back over her shoulder at Cinhil with a teasing grin. "What, only two little kisses this time? No passionate snogging? You're slipping, Haldane!"

The prince chuckled. "If I'm meant to be getting married sometime this summer, I probably ought to break the habit of reaching for you whenever I'm in the mood for a cuddle. I doubt my bride would appreciate that. Though I will miss these little outings with you."

She sighed. "So will I." Resuming her guise as Aidan O'Shiele, she dispersed the wards, returning the ward cubes to her pouch before rising to her feet and offering Cinhil a hand up, pulling him into a brief embrace once he was on his feet. "Slán leat, mo brathair."

"Slán leat, mo chara."

[JudithR]

Lovely ( and poignant)

[DerynifanK]

Lovely ( and poignant)

I agree with Judith. And no one knows what the future holds. But Cinhil will find deep love where he least expects it with Alixa. She will turn out to be the King's joy along with their daughter.

[Nezz]

So, just how "legal" is a hand fasting?

Also, I keep being told that "cuddling/snogging" isn't really a thing in those times. Am I hearing incorrectly?

[Jerusha]

Lovely, and it was nice to have Moonlight make an appearance.

[Evie]

So, just how "legal" is a hand fasting?

Also, I keep being told that "cuddling/snogging" isn't really a thing in those times. Am I hearing incorrectly?

I am pretty sure that as long as humans have been capable of feeling romantic attraction to each other, there have been forms of kissing, cuddling, etc. Most humans require a bit of getting into the mood to set the physical stage for more reproductive activities, after all.

Re: handfasting, in some periods and cultures it wasn't uncommon to have some version of informal marriage that would serve until a traveling priest could come along to formalize the arrangement. In some cases, there was the "year and a day" arrangement which was more similar to a modern engagement in that it could more easily be dissolved if the couple failed to reproduce, but I think became permanent if they did. That was a concession to the need for children being considered the primary reason for marriage aside from creating a formal alliance between families, so you might not want to be committed for life to a marriage until you were certain you could get heirs from that partnership.

In the Llyrian version of handfasting, I drew from those traditions to create a year and a day arrangement that the couple could opt out of after that time (but would automatically become permanent if the couple chose to continue in the marriage), which was originally meant to check for fertility, but sometimes was also used to confer legitimacy after the fact to a child conceived outside of wedlock but not yet born. I am not entirely certain if it was used for that in our own world, but Llyr allows it so that such children can be formally acknowledged and provided for.

Also, medieval betrothal in itself is a more formal and legally binding arrangement than modern engagement. If a betrothal was consummated, the couple was pretty much considered married and couldn't break off the match unless there was some other pre-existing reason to allow an annulment. In those cases, the wedding ceremony itself was more just a blessing on a marriage that was already considered to be legally valid.

[Nezz]

I am pretty sure that as long as humans have been capable of feeling romantic attraction to each other, there have been forms of kissing, cuddling, etc. Most humans require a bit of getting into the mood to set the physical stage for more reproductive activities, after all.

Sorry, I meant that I was told that the kissing and cuddling were not used as an end unto themselves, but only as a means to an end. Based on the conversation here, it sounds like the entire point of this rendezvous (and many others) was the cuddling and kissing.

Oh, and I really do like this scene.

[Evie]

I am pretty sure that as long as humans have been capable of feeling romantic attraction to each other, there have been forms of kissing, cuddling, etc. Most humans require a bit of getting into the mood to set the physical stage for more reproductive activities, after all.

Sorry, I meant that I was told that the kissing and cuddling were not used as an end unto themselves, but only as a means to an end. Based on the conversation here, it sounds like the entire point of this rendezvous (and many others) was the cuddling and kissing.

Oh, and I really do like this scene.

Ah. I don't think there is any evidence that people then were any different in enjoying such activities than they are now. There was less privacy available, but couples have been known to slip off and spend private time together in hay lofts or behind hedge rows, or even just in the relative privacy of a completely dark room late at night, and they wouldn't have just sought out those moments for the sole purpose of attempting to reproduce, because let's face it, all the other stuff that comes before that feels nice too, plus if you're not yet married and don't want to risk having children until you are, kisses and cuddles are something you can get away with more easily with less worry.

[LauraS]

Also, medieval betrothal in itself is a more formal and legally binding arrangement than modern engagement. If a betrothal was consummated, the couple was pretty much considered married and couldn't break off the match unless there was some other pre-existing reason to allow an annulment. In those cases, the wedding ceremony itself was more just a blessing on a marriage that was already considered to be legally valid.

Absolutely! Just ask the ghosts of Edward IV, Elizabeth Wydvill, and Eleanor Talbot!

[Evie]

Also, medieval betrothal in itself is a more formal and legally binding arrangement than modern engagement. If a betrothal was consummated, the couple was pretty much considered married and couldn't break off the match unless there was some other pre-existing reason to allow an annulment. In those cases, the wedding ceremony itself was more just a blessing on a marriage that was already considered to be legally valid.

Absolutely! Just ask the ghosts of Edward IV, Elizabeth Wydvill, and Eleanor Talbot!

Wait, was that the original Middle English spelling for "Woodville"? Cool! And yes, that reminds me of another point--why secret marriages, though still legally binding, were not looked at with favor by the Church or anyone else who preferred to see such important matters conducted in a fully open and aboveboard way. They led too easily to abuses such as having one partner pretend the promise of marriage never happened, so even though the relationship might have been consummated, it would still be considered illicit unless someone could prove otherwise (and that's a lot harder with no written contract or witnesses to produce) and therefore not an impediment to marrying someone else.

In KK's world, at least Duncan was able to prove he made a secret marriage with Maryse in good faith, because other Deryni were able to Truth-Read his responses to the tribunal's questioning, plus he could be Mind-Seen. So despite his sole "witness" (the Presence Lamp) not one that could be called into the tribunal to testify and his former confessor (the only one he had shared the secret with at the time) being dead, he could still prove he had entered a valid marriage. What made it valid, since there was no officiant? The Church's stance (at least in the Middle Ages) that unlike other sacraments, the sacrament of Holy Matrimony is not one that a priest bestows on a couple, but it is a sacrament that a couple bestows on each other. So while ideally a priest's blessing ought to be invoked at some point if at all possible, that was not the strictly necessary component to a legally binding marriage. The binding components were the promise to wed (statement of intent) followed by a consummation (the sealing of that intent). Duncan's marriage to Maryse, then, while irregular, was 100% legally and spiritually binding.

The problem in our world, of course, is that we have no Truth-Readers and Mind-Seers we can count on to quickly discern whether a couple entered a secret marriage with actual intent to wed prior to the consummation, or whether the "promise" was just a ruse to get the gullible partner to agree to sex, or whether there was even any promise made at all.

One of the most bizarre medieval court cases I found summarized online was one I ran across several years ago, and I wish now that I had bookmarked it to link to here, but it happened during a time when some sort of gift or token was customarily given to the bride-to-be upon betrothal, usually but not always a ring (this was the precursor to our modern engagement ring), so in this particular court case the naive young lady bringing her purported husband to court for breach of contract was trying to argue that she was validly married, because after his promise of marriage, he had given her what he told her was a betrothal gift to show his proof of intent, so she had allowed him to consummate their relationship. He, on the other hand, was claiming no such agreement to marry had ever been given. He didn't deny going to bed with her, he just denied entering any form of marriage with her, because (according to him, and there were no witnesses to say otherwise), no promises to marry had been exchanged. So the judge in the case asked the girl if she could produce the ring or other token she'd been given to seal the betrothal. She said she couldn't, because he still had it, and (to summarize her words) "He gave me his tongue in my mouth and told me that we were betrothed," and she agreed to the rest because she thought that silver-tongued devil meant it!

It was one of the funniest and yet at the same time saddest medieval court accounts I've run across online, because I can't believe the guy managed to get away with that pick up line (unsurprisingly, the judge did not find that convincing evidence for a legally binding statement of intent!), but also it's hard to believe the girl was naive enough to fall for that line. Maybe she was simple minded, but if so, that only makes the story sadder.

[LauraS]

Wait, was that the original Middle English spelling for "Woodville"? Cool! And yes, that reminds me of another point--why secret marriages, though still legally binding, were not looked at with favor by the Church or anyone else who preferred to see such important matters conducted in a fully open and aboveboard way. They led too easily to abuses such as having one partner pretend the promise of marriage never happened, so even though the relationship might have been consummated, it would still be considered illicit unless someone could prove otherwise (and that's a lot harder with no written contract or witnesses to produce) and therefore not an impediment to marrying someone else

Yep, "Wydvill" was an earlier spelling of "Woodville."  Old Eddie (well, not so old - he had just turned 18, and we know what most 18-year-old man/boys think with ) had a habit of secretly promising marriage to older widows to get them into bed. Eleanor was apparently the first one, sometime in 1460-61-ish. She wasn't a nobody, being the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury. She never got pregnant that we know of, and entered a convent when Edward dumped her, dying in 1468.  In 1464 Edward pulled the same stunt with EW, only she made sure to have more witnesses and forced his hand to recognize her.

The late Dr. John Ashdown-Hill, MBE, made a study of medieval marriage customs, and this is what he found: During this period, a promise or agreement to marry followed by sex was a valid canonical and civil marriage, publicly acknowledged or not - unless one of the parties was not free to marry. These "precontracts" of marriage were quite often the subject of later investigation as one or the other party tried to get out of them. "Precontract" in these bigamy cases simply means "previous contract of marriage" not a betrothal, not an engagement, a previous marriage. One other little caveat to the marriage laws of the time was that a once-bigamous couple could never legally marry even if the previous spouse(s) died - as they had been committing adultery while the other spouse lived. So, Edward and Elizabeth could not have just quietly re-"married" after Eleanor died - it still would not be legal!

After Edward IV's early death in 1483, his marital shenanigans came to public light and the idea of a "bastard" taking the throne (Edward V or his siblings) was anathema to the clergy. Elizabeth W didn't step forward to object, Eleanor's family didn't complain about her being "used" to replace Edward V with Richard III - not then and, more importantly, not after Bosworth when it would have been politic to do so under Henry VII. In 1483, most of the court had no problem believing that Edward IV did, in fact, marry Lady Eleanor Talbot Butler before he went through the same process with Elizabeth Wydvill three years later, which is why Richard III was invited to take the crown by the Three Estates of Government (Lords, Clergy, and Commons.) It might have even been an open secret in certain circles. After Bosworth, Henry VII was so afraid of the truth that he ordered all documentation of the inquiry into Edward's marriage(s) destroyed "unread and forgot." Thankfully, a single copy of "Titulus Regis 1484" somehow survived in a forgotten archive to tell us most of what really happened in 1483.

[Evie]

I don't imagine Edward IV had any idea his youthful shenanigans were going to wreak such havoc in his kingdom further down the road.

BTW, we will be seeing some of these topics re: medieval marriages come up again in my sequel story to Pawns and Queens, if I can ever manage to get the story fully written. 

[LauraS]

I don't imagine Edward IV had any idea his youthful shenanigans were going to wreak such havoc in his kingdom further down the road.

BTW, we will be seeing some of these topics re: medieval marriages come up again in my sequel story to Pawns and Queens, if I can ever manage to get the story fully written. 

Well, he probably didn't think he would die at 40 when his eldest son was only 12. Had he departed this Earth ten or fifteen years later, Edward of Westminster would have been an adult, possibly married with heirs of his own, and the powers-that-be would have been far less likely to want to rock the boat at that point. However, the disastrous child reign of Henry VI and the Wars of the Roses (as they're now known) were still current enough in peoples' minds, and the Wydvills were almost universally hated as greedy upstarts. No one wanted them anywhere near the regency or raising the King. Richard was the late King's trusted brother, well-known as honest and fair and a good administrator; Edward had made him Protector of the Realm for a reason (not guardian of the minor king BTW, as that was up to Parliament). When the precontract became common knowledge, all the evidence was weighed, and Edward the Younger and his siblings declared illegitimate and ineligible for the throne, Richard was the adult male closest in line so he was the obvious choice for the job. Richard didn't take the throne - he was essentially elected by the Three Estates.

I've always found it fascinating how much Henry VIII took after both sides of his family: He had his father Henry VII's paranoia and deviousness, plus his maternal grandfather Edward IV's looks (both were tall, handsome and athletic in their younger years, but over 300 pounds at death and may both have died from diabetes or something similar) and libido. Not a great combination, IMO.