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Kindred Spirits; WillS!
Topic Started: Jan 13 2012, 09:52 PM (199 Views)
Thomas Grey
Unregistered

It took great courage for a man to stand up to his fears... but it took greater courage for one to stand up to his past. Truly, Thomas was learning that now, even as he entered the grounds leading to the Tower of London. A Tower that he had once inhabited for far too long in his younger years. He didn't want to be reminded of the hopeless sense of desperation he had felt locked within the confines of the Tower. No matter the amount of appealing he had done to the previous King, no amount of reassuring could ease the mistrust from the King's mind. It was something he tried not to dwell on and certainly something that he tried not to hold too heavily in his heart.
It was ill omen to think poorly of the dead.

Thomas knew not the truth behind the plea of innocence for William Spencer and, truthfully, he didn't have a desire to get too mixed up in the politics of that particular cause... But he did know that he liked the man. He did know that he felt a sort of brotherly affection and camaraderie with him that Thomas truly felt for very few. He could speak his mind in the presence of the other man without fear of being reprimanded for it and that, above all else, was a very valued fact. And so now, for his friendship, Thomas was facing his particular unsavory past for the sake of his friend's peace of mind.

Thomas was shown to the room in which William Spencer was being held. It seemed, far too often, that people he knew were being held within the walls of this wretched place. While it may not have been as gruesome as a dungeon, a prison cell was still a prison cell and the loss of hope for those trapped within its walls was just as oppressive. Thomas took a breath outside of the room as the guard unlocked the door and allowed him entrance. He gave the man a curt nod and carried himself with all of the confidence and composure he normally carried himself with, putting up an outward front, despite the fact that a vast number of memories came flooding back to him.
Once he was inside, the door closed once more and Thomas was left to adjust his eyes to the lighting and the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of being locked in.

"William." He said, his tone perfectly neutral. "God pray you have been well enough in this wretched place..." He breathed at last, knowing well enough that the guard had paced away from the door for a moment. "I have seen your sister, Elizabeth, these days past and know she worries for you. I reassured her that I would visit." He said briefly. He wanted to gauge William's spirits before he pressed on with anything he had to say for the time being.

This was a dreary place indeed.
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
William had expected few people to visit him, but he had been rather fortunate in not being utterly abandoned. His friends had strength and loyalty and faith to risk themselves so.

His thought did not dwell overly much on them though but rather upon his wife. His secretly pregnant wife. A woman who was more than just the grand-daughter of a king and a political alliance to him; she was all of his life and now she carried all of his life within her. Within her was the only thing he showed for having existed. That consumed him. There was little room for other thoughts more than the purification of his soul, in the case of the worst.

Th earl, who had just turned twenty and four, had thought perhaps Dorset would back out on the betrothal with his sister, but he had not expected for the man to visit him...especially given his past.

When the man was showed in, William was clearly the worse for wear. The conditions were hardly substandard, and he had much of his own things, but it was not good for the care of his shoulder. His shoulder which had been agitated by the base men whom His Majesty had chosen to question him. They might think that grabbing his much injured and maligned lame shoulder was not torture, but it was precisely that to William and perhaps just as deadly. Whatever was inside that damned joint was not smooth and pure but jagged and reminiscent of much abuse. It was easy to injury and easy to abscess. Fragments of bone had always come out over the years. It was his Achilles Heel, and someone had betrayed it so that some common-blooded oafs who could not execute their duties with the honour of their king in mind could grab him in hopes he would say something.

Say what, he was clueless, because he had done nothing wrong. He was accused of writing letters in his own hand and couldn't even write.

As days wore on to a week and then more, those first few days of much endless questioning had taken their toll on his shoulder. Whatever was done had set in and taken hold of him despite he and Thomas doing their best to prevent it. William felt himself getting ill and the stabbing pain constantly in his shoulder and the redness and look of it were enough to make any man not need to guess at the cause.

When Dorset came in, William was reading by the fire. There was a gleam of sweat on him despite the fact that he was cold.

"As well as can be expected," he replied, mustering a bit of a smile for the fact that the man had not abandoned him; although a bit of him kept on guard in case this was some strange ploy to entrap him. William knew of Thomas' history and would bet the man would not want to repeat his history. His mind was not entirely well and it was amazing how much he was willing to trust given his situation.

"It means much to me that you would console her so, things being as they are, despite my obvious innocence, I could barely hope for as much." He looked toward the fire. "I cannot expect this was the simplest place for you to visit and that is duly noted for what it may be worth."

It might be worth nothing, because he would likely not ever be able to repay it.
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Thomas Grey
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The state of the Lord Willmington was certainly not lost on Thomas in the moment. The man was not completely well and, as he had feared, his injury certainly hadn't been cared for best of all by the looks of things. Truthfully, Thomas worried. Don't you dare die on me, Willmington. There are far too few good men left in the world. Oh what he would do to be able to speak those words freely! But as it stood, he couldn't chance saying anything more portraying his true feelings on the situation, lest someone else catch wind of it. But Thomas certainly sympathized with the man.

Thomas nodded when William commented on the fact that he appreciated his consoling Elizabeth. But how could he not? He'd gone the route of having been married before and while he had respected his wife in the beginning, she had been nearly intolerable towards the end of her life. She had scarcely come to visit him while he'd been locked away in the tower and, in the end, she had died and took with her what would have been his son. Thomas clenched his teeth a moment, forcing the dark thoughts from his mind as he focused more intently on the other man in the room at the moment.

"No." Thomas said with a sigh. "It isn't the easiest of places to visit for myself, but I know the pain of being left to one's solitude in times such as these." He said quietly. He was quiet a moment as he reflected on that fact before he paced a little further into the room. Thomas could only imagine where William's thoughts had immediately gone the moment that he uttered those words. He stopped again and tucked his hands behind his back, clasping them and sighing. "William, if you are innocent," He paused a moment, giving him a meaningful look. His expression was plain enough. Truthfully, he didn't believe William guilty of the crimes he was accused of. He knew what it was to be wrongfully accused. Knew it all too well. "I would do everything in my power to see you a free man again." He said simply enough. He was being blunt and quite honest with the other man at the moment. "We are brothers - not by blood - but by oath and vow. Soon enough by marriage. And you are one of the few good men left that I know."

This truly couldn't have come at a worse time. Honestly. "I am planning on speaking to Elizabeth in regards to our nuptials." He said after a moment, pinning William with a look. He rubbed a hand over his brow. "I think it best to hold off until we are... in better company." He said simply enough.
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
William knew that he had to be very careful. He knew that some of his 'friends' he would not be able to trust, but he admittedly did not know how to tell which were which for the most part. The young man wished to believe in the loyalty and goodness of his friends and allegiances, but he knew that few would be loyal to him when that meant possibly sharing in his fate or falling in favour just as fast as his own head could leap from the blade and bounce onto wooden planks.

A thought that made him particularly nauseated, the acrid taste in his mouth quickly swallowed as he took in a breath.

"I was exiled by my own grandfather then," he commented, "Or sequestered with him whilst he lay dying...I cannot remember." He had not been friends with Dorset's sister then or, by extension, the man himself. What William did understand quite well was that the closer in blood you were to the king (or to previous English kings), the more of a threat you were to the current king. That was the same almost everywhere, but William was not used to this level of...presumptuous brutality...just because of the way one was born. Or married. As such, he did not think there had been much meat to Dorset's imprisonment aside from that; he was the king's half cousin, from a grandmother, but half and cousin was still enough considering the dilution of blood in this xenophobic, isolationist island.

"You are a good friend, even if we have not been close for longer than a year," William commented. "Sit if you wish. Thomas will pour you wine if you like. It is Italian, Sangioghetto and Ciliegiolo grapes, made by the Franciscan friars who inhabit one of my estates there." It was a good arrangement for him: it kept others from trying to usurp his property, it protected his goods, and it fed the local people. He got nothing but the wine in return which was fine with him. He sighed. At least if he was to die, he could take some comfort that he had done a lot of good things in his life even if no one would know of them.

When Dorset commented 'if' he was innocent, William raised an eyebrow. He did not blame or judge Thomas for using that term, but he assuredly noticed it. Dorset's further admission made both William's eyebrows quirk. That was quite vehemently and supportively said.

William stared at the fire. "I cannot write anymore since the war, Thomas, so I obviously could not have written letters...they could easily say it's an act I suppose...and I spilled French blood and went to war with one arm, not thinking I would ever survive it, because His Majesty commanded it as I could not hurt my family here." He sighed, "I do not know what proof I can offer above that."

He took a long sip from the glass he was holding and then set it down, reaching his left hand over to his right shoulder and placing it over it for a moment. It itched fiercely as much as it pained him which was annoying at best as he could do little about it.

"There are not many good men left as this fabrication is evidence of that. I could lay blame many places, but for this elaborate of a plan few would have the money and resources. I hear they make me out to be some sort of covert usurper, that either I make moves to secure the throne here for France or that I act on my own blood." He heaved a bit of a snort. "That wholly does not fit with my character. It is absurd. I have my own legitimate claims elsewhere...elsewhere the climate is fairer...why ever would I wish to take what is not mine when I have yet to even take back what is mine? And what difference would it make to me which of my relations or cousins or brothers by marriage sit on this throne that it would make sense I would wish it to go to France? His Majesty has been very gracious to me and his children are cousins to my future children, by blood numerous ways...Any humanist would hardly wish to give any country so much power that I would wish anything to go to France. If anything that would be a danger to my ambitions." He shook his head and lowered his hand from his shoulder.

It was all so very asinine, and he could very well lose his head over it.

He nearly missed the other man comment on his marriage to William's sister, and he was not surprise he wished it postponed. It was not precisely intelligent to marry a traitor's sister while said traitor was locked in the Tower especially when you had spent time in the Tower as well...

"Indeed, that is probably best."
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Thomas Grey
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Thomas remembered, all too well, what it was like trying to wade through his friends and enemies while he had been locked away. He had learned, quickly enough, that sometimes it was best to remain mute when he had visitors that he was unsure about. And then he simply had to remember that there were those out there who appeared friendly for all intents and purposes, but turned out to be the most vicious predators of all. He certainly didn't envy William in this endeavor in the least. But it was the most important battle he had at the moment and one of the trickiest to master. Thomas truthfully was there on good and friendly terms, but he wasn't sure that William himself was completely convinced of that.

Thomas nodded at what William said. He wasn't overly surprised about any of that, but it was hardly his fault. Thomas and William hadn't known one another at that time. He was older than the other man by a quite a few years as it was. But being blood of the king was both blessing and curse. You certainly attained some perks of being so closely tied to the king, and yet at the same time, people seldom understood that, when there was a question of treason at hand, you were most often considered enemy in such a time. It was a very fine line to walk. Either your life was marvelous... or it was in a constant limbo of potential death.

Thomas sat as he was bidden to. It was true that the pair had not been friends a long time at all, but that wasn't to say that they didn't have potential to be friends for a long time to come. He was set to marry the man's sister after all. God's grace that William lived out long enough to see the wedding. Elizabeth would be incredibly difficult to deal with if her brother were put to the axe as it would be. And perhaps that was a horrid thing of him to think in the moment, but it was the truth. And Thomas wasn't calloused to the idea of death, but he knew just how bleak the outlook was for one held within the towers. He had counted the days that he had been incarcerated to begin with... but that quickly turned to a countdown until his death. He only hoped that William was still faring well enough.

Thomas still nodded at what it was that William said in regards to his innocence. But he didn't comment on the fact for the time being. His own position was precarious enough at times that he didn't need to say anything more on the situation.

Thomas certainly wanted answers in regards to this whole ordeal. As it was, he was set to marry the sister to this man. He certainly didn't need a question of Elizabeth's loyalties following him around at every turn. As it stood, he found himself, more often than not, thinking up ways to defuse the situation. It was all a terrible mess and, William was the one suffering most of all for it. "Is there anything I might do for you or your Lady Wife, William?" Thomas asked at last. He couldn't imagine that things would be easy for William's wife at the moment. Thomas' mind briefly flickered to his last wife and the ordeal that had happened while he had been locked away. The stress of it had caused his wife to go into early labor and then he had lost both wife and the babe that would have been his firstborn son and heir. He swallowed as he looked at William. "Anything at all."
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
It felt good just to say what he was thinking about his innocence, even if Dorset did not much reply to it. William understood. It would be dangerous to be seen to agree with him if he later was a head shorter. It could be seen as contradicting the wishes of the king. He did not take offense to it.

Right now it made little sense to take offense to his few remaining friends.

"I fear there is little to be done. If you have any proclivity toward it and have good agents, have a sniff around Norfolk's friends and associates. You know I am horrid at cards, but I make better gambles elsewhere. This is one I'd wager much on." He put his hands together between his legs as he sat, leaning forward a bit. It was hard to think about such things being here. He would that he could do them for himself and not rely on others.

He considered Dorset's words carefully and then thought of something, but it would be a something that would be covert. Dorset would not even know what it was that he was asking.

"There is a small thing, friend. There are things my grandfather brought for me from France, from my late uncle, my inheritances from Naples. My wife may wish to return them to her in-laws, and I should like for her to not be persecuted for a travel to France to her late husbands family. I doubt I am significant enough to ruin an alliance, so if we are at peace with France, I should ask you to help her make travel there if any would try to prevent it. She will still be Comtesse de Guise, and she will be nothing here if I am ruined."

William was not informing the man she was pregnant. No, that was too great a secret, but what he was asking seemed harmless. What he feared was that if he, William, was seen as some strange threat to this throne, his unborn son would be as well. He would not wish him staying in this country, spending probably more of his life in the Tower than any person deserved.
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Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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[align=center]Mistress Leigh

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