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Hallowed be Thy Name; wills <3
Topic Started: Jan 16 2012, 10:15 PM (229 Views)
Henry Percy
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Had Henry Percy been any other man, perhaps the man his father was, perhaps the man that the Duke of Buckingham had been, he would have put a stop to this madness. He would have stood up and, with all his confidence, his wealth and his glory, both in blood and by sheer right, he would have banished the honor of all those that thought this dilemma remotely plausible. He would have the entirety of northern England at his back, and if he had the power to, he would integrate the help of the future French king to tear William out of his own uncle's arms and forbid the very King of England from ever touching the Lord Wilmington and Comte de Guise. Had Henry Percy been his father, indeed, he would have done all of those things... and without a single fear of the poorer royal family.

But this was God's will, and Henry was not his father. Every bit of it, down to his predecessor's execution and his family's attainment was God's will. As he had watched with stricken horror while William was led quietly out of the Great Hall, Henry had been overwhelmed with that familiar sense of hopelessness. He had wanted to fall to his knees right then and there and cry out for their mercy. Swallowing hard, he had kept his strength, and knew the easily-shaken Henry Percy was only a result of the corrupted taint in his blood from his father's ambitions. It was this realization that actually had him thankful that he was not that man, able to say whatever word he wished with the coin to merit it. No, that was not this Henry Percy, and instead he had only taken the hand of Lady Wilmington and squeezed it affectionately, promisingly. Henry would not let any of this come to fruition, lest it be the last deed he paid. The rise of whispers elevated into voices of concern, of confusion, and if he listened close enough, he could hear talk of malicious intent... as if they were already planted there, waiting to insert further lifeblood to William's inconceivable charge of this madness.

He had waited quite awhile after the commotion had settled down before leaving the Great Hall, slipping out quickly and unnoticed. His mind had been long since churning, folding, running and stopping and sprinting off again. Thoughts and plans went in and out of his skull like bees to and fro a flower, but there was always one solid, reoccurring one that not a single shred of doubt accompanied. William would be released. Somehow or another, whether it be his last dying deed or breath, his cousin would get out of that Tower that seemed to be a haunting fixture in Henry's life, and his name cleared. He would not lose anything like Henry had lost. He could not bear to see anyone he loved in a similar position to his own. It had hurt enough to see Henry Stafford had been brought down along, too, and to see someone like William... someone who could pose more invincible than any other man he knew, could not fall. Not because Henry depended on his cousin, depended on him for his living situation, but because his love for the man could not bear to see or tolerate such demise. Yet, should the strong, humbly glittering William Spencer tumble undeservedly from grace, Henry would be there. Henry would always be there. The soldier in him already had him planning a move back to Alnwick should the circumstances require it.

Henry would have to wait, though, before he braved visiting the Tower. His patience had always been thick, but this was actually hard for him, and after two days of trying to console both his and William's sister, making sure the Lady Wilmington was well tended to, Henry could not stomach the separation anymore, the confusion, the unanswered questions. He had to get to him. Having drawn in a long breath upon leaving the palace and another upon entering the Tower, Henry knew it would not be an easy road from here. Until William's name was cleared and the King's doubt banished, the entirety of the Percy and Spencer family would remain on pointed, worried toes. Once escorted to William's lodgings, Henry thanked the guard and, with yet another long breath, he entered into the room and nearly fell slack at the sight of his cousin. He exhaled quietly and nearly in defeat, his emerald eyes on the knelt, humbled form of William Spencer. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed, his back to the door, and for a brief moment, Henry almost saw himself in his cousin as he took a single step towards him. He said nothing, merely breathed, and with a few more steps, Henry had come to stand beside him and with equal, quiet grace, sank to his knees in the very same manner his cousin had used. He sighed, looked forlornly once at William, and turned his head back and closed his eyes. "Our Father who art thou in Heaven.."
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
Since the news from his wife earlier that very day, William had done nothing buy pray. He prayed every prayer he had memorized that was suiting, and he hoped for guidance and grace. He was quite literally afraid that his heart would break in two before his head ever made it from his neck.

God forbid he died too weak to make it to his own execution if it came to that. It would be an even worse and more pathetic end.

He barely heard the door, and he did not even contemplate the noise. There were persons coming in and out regularly, dropping off wood for the fire or water and the like.

It was not until he heard the voice of cousin that he knew who had joined him as he continued to finish his silent ministration of prayer. It was now, after all, Lent in addition to his dire circumstances. They were no strangers to prayer either of them, nor were they strangers of sharing it together next to each other. There was a familiar comfort to it. Two of the family sufferers, suffering together with each other. That was a typical theme in their lives, was it not?

Many long minutes later, he finished and crossed himself, before standing up as Henry did and promptly embraced his cousin with as much ferocity as a man with one good arm could hope to have.

How many people would he do such a thing with? How many people could ever see him in such a way? Very few. His brother and brother-in-law, Henri (Exeter), and Francois when it was for Francois' comfort, surely not his own. Henry was in good company. He should have expected that his cousin would be among the first to come as someone would have to oversee some of his things being moved here.

"Henry, I feel we are both now going to drown in our misfortunes."
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Henry Percy
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Prayer came easy and natural with William. They had not shared the same rod, per se, but their experiences, their wisdom, their love for their family came from very similar times and events. William knew Henry better than perhaps anyone else, and on his knees beside his beloved cousin, uttering a smooth prayer, he felt nothing but complete love for him and devotion to make sure William was soon -very soon- released. A plea of innocence might be enough, as surely the King cherished his Master of the Horse and would not be so easily convinced that such a man could betray him... or even God they were now praying softly to. Eyes closed, Henry let only his lips move, swift and familiar over the syllables, and let only his chest rise and fall with his hands pressed flat together just before his nose and chin. He envisioned nothing but the prayer that came from his heart and to his throat, saw nothing but the Holy light that was their Almighty, and with his devoted spirit, he urged both he and his cousin William closer into its warm tendrils.

But of course, the prayer had come to an end, and after crossing himself, Henry opened his eyes and turned his head to his cousin, rising smoothly to his feet as William did the same. He did not see much of his relative before he was pressed against him, William's stronger arm wrapped about him like a constricting serpent. But serpent he was not, and instead the strength in his arm to bring Henry close put all the warmth in him that a malicious reptile would have squeezed away. But even so, there was sadness in this embrace, and though his heart lurched for William, it leapt with pain as well. He stifled a sob after hearing his cousin speak, thinking not about his own misfortunes, but of his cousin's. Of Lady Wilmington's. Of Elizabeth, of Lord Berkshire or Sir John's... the Sergeant had arrested his own nephew; that was enough a gesture of severance from the issue. What could Henry do? He had done petty things, making sure William's belongings had been sent and secured here in the Tower for him, had comforted both his sister Margaret and William's wife Margaret to the best of his abilities, but he knew there was only one thing that would ease their grief and their fear that Henry equally shared, and of course, that would be William's release and the King's doubt banished.

What could be done, indeed? He need not to ask William of his innocence; that was obvious the moment Sir John came in with his Yeomen. He knew his cousin's plea had either already been made, or would soon be... and Henry could only pray it would be enough. That the evidence against him was so faulty, so poorly managed and created, that there would be no question in the matter. William would be released, the French could go home, and life would return to normal. Everyone would be happy again, and His Majesty would love William just as he did before the outrageousness ensued. For now, perhaps from here on out, Henry's own plight did not matter... and there would be no drowning. "William, please," he spoke, softly and deeply. "There is no water here, no current." He mustered a small smile and looked to the floor, if only for a moment. "Though this ground is not where any of us believe you should be," Henry took a breath, "it is solid. It is holding you up. Our misfortunes are only material... stripped of our riches, William, we are only men... humble, poor men. Just as God intended us to be." His smile grew and he placed a hand on William's unharmed bicep. As a solider, Henry of course considered William's execution, he considered a retreat from court, considered moving back to Alnwick or, if William was released on the premise of the King's disfavor, then Henry even considered what to do then. He had multiple plans, options and paths to choose depending on whatever outcome, and he was prepared for them... perhaps not materially, but he was mentally. Spiritually. To Henry Percy, it was all a man needed. If only his predecessor had been the same.

"Do not lose your breath, cousin," he went on lovingly, "the water is nay high yet." Henry would know. He had thought his lungs filled with the saturated misfortunes of his father's treason, attainment and execution, and since then he thought plenty a times completely submerged and only at their mercy. More than once he had been convinced it would soon be the end of him, of his family, but it never came... and he had been allowed to live. To breathe. And now, having felt like he'd journeyed so far through himself yet had made perhaps only a few physical steps, Henry was hoping it was all for a reason. And perhaps that very reason was for the man standing in front of him. Turning his eyes to William's injured shoulder, Henry winced sympathetically and dropped his hand from his cousin's other bicep. "I tried sending your ointments and medicines," he mentioned solemnly, as if failure overwhelmed him, "but they allowed not. Nothing that could permit... 'as a poison' for you to use on what, the entire castle? Do they suppose you to take it over in the name of the French, all with a mere container of ointment?" It bothered and upset him, and Henry's most stagnant temper had set off a single flare at the men who'd refused him. Though the young disgrace was most humble and modest, he had the secret pride of a Percy, and would not tolerate to be confronted with idiocy or blatant disrespect. He could only pray William was not shown the same treatment here. But, of course, by the looks of his shoulder, it seemed just as so.

"But you should not fret of outside matters. Your uncle Lord Berkshire came swiftly into action to silence any family upsets, but I attended to the more..." he thought of Elizabeth, of Lady Wilmington, Catherine and his sister Margaret, even of Lord Berkshire's new wife Eleanor, one of his Berkeley cousins, and managed a soft smile. "Personal matters. It seems quite the light is shed on the women of what I thought was a family dominated by men... I did not think their tears would stop." Henry chuckled breathlessly, glancing about the lodgings before bringing his emerald gaze back to the tired, more weaker one of William's. Henry insisted it was only temporary, and the virility, the vitality and the vigor would soon flourish back into his beloved cousin. "Elizabeth has begun to find solace in the Lord Dorset, which... I could not bring myself to question." Henry did not like the idea of his own sister spending too much time with her future husband, for the sake of tradition and proprieties, but for now, he could not bring himself to protest against Elizabeth. "And Lady Wilmington... she's allowed me little time. I hope she has finally spoken to you more than she has me." Henry did not blame her. How could he? He knew all too well what it was like to feel weary, distrusting of even your own family. And besides; the Percys were no more than a family that used to be richer than the King himself, the richest family in England, that had gone against her own cousin His Majesty and now resided in the shadows of contempt. They were only cousins now that she had married distantly into, and just because her husband trusted and adored Henry, did not mean she had to... especially not now. Henry understood completely.
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
There was assuredly a sadness to the embrace. The emotion came from not simply the possibility he would leave his wife in a such a way and with child, but also that he had failed all the rest of his family who depended upon him. Perhaps his grandfather had been right when he had been sent back to France at nineteen, perhaps he should have never come to England.

Perhaps some would miss moments of bliss, but it seemed possible there would be far less heartache.

His cousin who had been depending upon him to help get him back his title and properties! Not to mention Henry's brothers and sister by extension.

The burden on him was indeed great physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Of course, Henry was no simple dependent on him as evidenced by his words of comfort. It seemed, indeed, that roles had reversed slightly. William was now the worse off, being threatened with the loss of his head just like Henry's father. It was now Henry comforting him and making him assurances. It put a small smile on his face.

"Or by way in which I might poison myself in my disgrace," he added, shaking his head. "'Tis no matter, Henry, as I am humbled so shall I be pained. It is nothing in comparison to Christ."

There was nothing William had to cling to other than his dignity and grace. He would not relinquish those things no matter what. What he bared now to his cousin, he would only bare to his family and close friends. He would not allow his captors or any others to see him carry himself with any less honour than he usually did.

"Although they are simple enough that they might be prone to such a tactic. Hindering His Majesty's servant in performance of their duties is also treason, I think I shall pass on such endeavors. I will be happy to sit here at His Majesty's pleasure." An obedient servant could do not less and he had nothing more that he could do.

He put his faith in God to see him through to his purpose, whatever that might be.

A soft snort escaped his mouth and turned to move for the seats by the fire as Thomas produced wine. Were it not for the threat on him and those who'd basely grabbed at his shoulder, it was not so very horrific to be here.

"It is good of you to attend to such sensitive things. I fear that my sister is afraid of Edward and only slightly less afraid of John; although I am certain she is displeased he had no choice but to arrest me. If not, he would have been sitting in here with me, or would have beaten me here...You are far of a more comforting nature."

His blue eyes flickered downward, thinking of their tears. How many times in his life had he willed his sister Elizabeth to stop crying all over him, and now he thought he might give all sorts of things to hold her whilst she cried.

"Perhaps those shall drown you instead?" He could not help but say it, despite the fact that his sharp wit was rather silly here.

"The papers are signed, she is for all intents and purposes his already. I am merely happy that she can find some comfort. She is thankfully not a fool girl that would be led to bed by anyone."

There was little he could do about it anyway. He thought he knew that Lord Dorset was a trustworthy man, not the sort who might take advantages of the legality of consummating on a binding betrothal contract and then go back on it any not marry her in a proper ceremony if misfortune took William's head. He could not fathom it, but he was very good of heart and trusting.

"She came earlier today...We spent many hours together. She is very frightened. I shall have Thomas write her for me, but I will not have her come back." His sigh was heavy and pulled his eyes down again before he looked into the fire.

"How is dear Margaret?" he asked, obviously speaking of his cousin's sister before raising his wine to his lips.
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Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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