The White Duchess - The White Queen

Ludlow Castle, Ludlow, Shropshire, England, October 12, 1459

We do not have enough time. When we get to Ludlow we are all dreadfully aware that we will not be able to summon the amount of men that we wanted. With our army depleted down to about 4000 men after the battle and York having retained just 1000 we find that we are terribly outnumbered. My men from Derby share join us. There's about 1300 of them and they are already to serve me to the death. To our surprise, the men from Devon also make their way quickly to Ludlow, all 1000 of them and Lord Fauconburg, a Neville cousin, is able to provide us with an additional 700. But it is not enough. The queen is bringing an army of 15,000 and everybody knows that they will ransack the city. 

Jesus Christ, this is a nightmare! Alice Montagu writes. And at the worst possible time! And I find that I cannot help but agree with her.

"There has to be a way to win this," cousin Corneille says.

"I hate to break it to you," young Edmund says in a high pitched voice, "But there is not. This is not Blore Heath. We have shown them our plans their tricks will not work again. Margaret of Anjou has trapped us. We have to work out a plan."

"The boy is right," my father says. "Margaret and her men will anticipation any type of trick we try to pull on the battlefield. We cannot do the same thing twice. We will be slaughtered if we do self. Our best choice now is to retreat from Ludlow and go up north. We have thought off the Lancaster and stare and will be able to rally more men to our cause if we stir up tension against the Percy's."

"I'm afraid not," York butts in. "I've just gotten bored for my men up north. Margaret of Andrew has encircled us from the north of Wales. We are trapped."

"So we have no choice," Salisbury says quickly. "We have to go out and meet her in battle."

"I suppose so," my father says dishearteningly as he turns to me, "Eliza, I am not trying to scare you when I tell you to be ready to run."

And I find that though he tells me not to be scared that I am more terrified than ever.

"We will do our best out there," John Neville tells Claire as she wipes away her tears. "I will try to make it back to you. If I don't then go with Eliza. Edward and her will take care of you out of love and remembrance for me."

That is the one thing that makes my lady in waiting burst into sobs. Claire, my most composed friend who has always been a realist is now crying into her husband's armor. He kisses her forehead one last time and says I love you to their daughter Anne before riding out with Edward. Edward stares at me from his horse. Both of us don't want to say anything. I know that if I try I will break out into sobs like Claire and I do not want that to be my last memory of him. 

For all I know my husband is riding out as the sun goes down into his death.  I know I should not be worried. Just the previous night he is happy when he tells me that Sir Andrew Trollope and him have devised a strategy that might allow the Yorks to win this battle. He is excited as he rides out that his eyes are sad and I cannot shake this terrible feeling that something awful is about to happen. All I can do is watch helplessly as my husband rides out hoping to God that he will come back to me alive. I no longer care about victory. I just want my husband.

It is terrible. It is the worst outcome imaginable. Sir Andrew Trollope, the man who was the architect of the strategy for the battle turns on us and it is a slaughter. Edward, York, Edmund, Salisbury, Jasper, John Neville, Fauconburg, and Brouchier are forced to turn back. They are forced to flee. Facounburg, York, and Edmund immediately head to Ireland while the rest of the men return quickly to Ludlow to pick up their wives and children.