The year is 1464.
The War of the Roses rages on; a great showdown between Lancaster and York.
Yet, asleep in her bed, fiery-haired Melissa Woodville dreams of splintered shields, broken swords, and the resounding screams of wounded men in the Battle...
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"WRITE TO HIM... the queen has been ordered... No. No. The king has confined Queen Elizabeth to her chambers." Alonso de Fonseca, Spanish ambassador to England, nodded in satisfaction. Tapping his fingers upon the wooden desk, he strutted around his scrivener, a pep in his step. "As is well within his right. I am bound to report to Your Majesty that the tales of the Woodville Queen are true: she is frigid, careless, her womb dried, and her influence upon her husband all but nonexistent."
Pausing to let that sink in, Fonseca took a sip of his wine as the boy before him scribbled away. "Did you get that down?"
"Sí, señor." A fervent nod.
"Good, good," the ambassador smacked his lips together with relish. "Continue... I must admit to Your Majesty that I wonder whether the rumors about their amor apasionado were ever true, for even before the... incident... the commoner queen talked, and talked, and her husband let it in one ear, and out the other. Her opinions do not matter a whit to him, and it seems he has grown weary of her. It is quite curious, I must say."
The scrivener hummed as he jotted those words down. Peeking over his shoulder, Fonseca read the words and — satisfied with what he had found — continued, "Las duquesas — newly made princesas — are a wholly different story. The Princesa Isabel is the daughter to the late Earl of Warwick, who — as Your Majesty knows — incited the rebellion against King Edward and seated his Lancastrian enemy back on the throne; if only briefly. She is wife to the elder of the king's younger brothers: the Prince George, who — though he is erstwhile heir — does not seem to be benefiting any from the king's favor. He is-- idiota, qué has escrito?" You idiot, what have you written? Fonseca cut himself off, glaring at the boy, who scrambled to correct himself by blotting out the ink.
