A captive king and a foolish queen

July 29, 1469 was not a good day for the House of York, for it was on this date that Edward was captured and taken as a prisoner to his cousin, the Earl of Warwick. However, I had great fun writing this scene and the succeeding scenes, as Edward showed he was more than a skilled battle commander and a playboy prince. He had a first-rate brain, too, and he was one of those rare men who were at their best when things were at their worst, although sadly he was at his worst when things were at their best. Warwick had always underestimated him, and that would prove to be a costly mistake. Writers usually have favorite chapters and Edward’s capture at Olney is one of mine. So, too, are the scenes with Warwick, so smugly sure he has the upper hand, while Edward smiles and complies with the demands made upon him and makes plans of his own. Plans that come to fruition when Warwick returns to Middleham and is shocked to discover that Edward has managed to summon the lords of the realm--and an army led by his young brother Richard and the loyal Will Hastings.
The Sunne in Splendour, pages 152-153
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The men were watching Warwick with expectant interest; several, like Jack Howard, were openly challenging. Warwick’s eyes moved from face to face, until at last he found the one he sought. Edward was standing with the Archbishop of York. The latter was resplendent in the jeweled miter and robes of a Prince of the Church, but as white of face as one being marched to the gallows. Edward had been laughing as Warwick entered the hall; he was flushed with triumph, looked surprisingly young and suddenly carefree.
For a moment, time seemed to fragment, the intervening eight years seemed to disappear as if they’d never been, and Warwick was seeing again the jubilant nineteen year old youth who’d ridden beside him into London to deafening cheers on that long-ago February day that was to lead to the throne. And then the eerie illusion shattered and Warwick was facing a man who watched him with hard mocking eyes and a smile that promised not remembrance, but retribution.
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July 29th was also the date in 1565 when Mary Queen of Scots made a mistake so monumental that it can be argued this was her first step on the road to the gallows at Fotheringhay Castle. I am not a fan of Mary’s, having always been a member of Team Elizabeth, but even I wish I could time-travel back to the day of her wedding to Lord Darnley and warn her not to marry him. Not that she’d have heeded me. Mary was never one for listening to good advice.