Elegy for Francis, Duke of Dukes | An Alternate History

Dust to Dust

PENULTIMATE STANZA, VERSE VI

In some ways, Francis was just like his mother. He had inherited an eye condition that slowly ate at his peripheral vision until he could only see what was right in front of him. A certain fire existed as well that lit his soul and kept it afloat amidst the tides of strife. Even when ship after ship sank in encounters with the superior Spanish navy, his fervor kept him going.

But it was impossible to deny the facts. Most of southern England laid under Charles's control, and the new capital was under siege. Resistance was being stamped out of the Netherlands. Our naval strength was failing. He was winning.

Yet he still elected to keep diplomacy on the table. As a gesture of good will towards his European subjects, he visited Ghent to discuss grievances and resolve them while keeping the region solidly in the Spanish sphere of influence. During his trip a crowd formed around him. Charles saw nothing wrong with this, congratulating them for their understanding. Then they began to get rowdy.

Before any of his bodyguards realized, they were upon him, beating him all over. All his cries for mercy were only responded to with more blows. Bruised and bloodied, he was paraded throughout the city until the mob came to the central square. There he was executed for all to see. A sword grazed his lungs, killing him slowly and painfully.