chaos_thon Premiere: Historica (3/3)
Unknown location, present, unknown time
“There!” Alexander shouted. “It’s done!”
Richard leaned forward. “Well?” he demanded. “Just what was Ben doing?”
The older man leaned forward, peering at the screen. “It seems he was manipulating the command protocols,” he said, his eyes flying over the lines of code. His eyes widened. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Alexander said, a healthy bit of respect lining his tone. “Ben actually managed to change the protocols before he was recorded as dead.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “But why? What purpose did he have?”
“Just a minute…” he muttered, continuing to read through the codes. “Ra on high!” Alexander breathed after several moments. “Ben resigned his position and put another in his place!”
Richard’s eyes widened. That was unheard of. Once a supervisor took up the position, they kept it as a lifetime appointment, only resigning it with their deaths and, if they were lucky, leaving behind their recommendation for a successor. “Who did he put into the position?” he asked.
Alexander did not respond at first, but then said quietly, “Abigail Wesley.”
The younger man blinked. “What?” he said stupidly.
“Abigail Wesley,” Alexander repeated. “She is the new supervisor.” His skin seemed to be going more and more pale. “What was Ben thinking?” he murmured, more to himself than to Richard.
Richard shook himself hard. “We don’t have time to ask that,” he stated. He stood up and moved to the door of the office. Opening it, he strode out and through the control room and down the hallway. Throwing the door to the conference room open, he found Abigail still speaking with Mary and Charles. She jumped a little as he swept into the room.
“Has she been briefed?” he asked Charles, not bothering with any sort of pleasantries.
The agent nodded. “We were just about finished,” he replied.
“Good.” Richard turned to Abigail. “Doctor Wesley, I’m afraid we have a situation that requires your assistance.”
She blinked. “W-What? What could I possibly -”
“Before Ben died,” Richard cut her off, “he made a few changes in the system protocols, including the command protocols. He essentially removed himself as supervisor and… put you in his place.”
Charles inhaled sharply and Mary spat out a few inventive curses, but Richard’s gaze never wavered from Abigail. She looked lost, confused, and exhausted. He wanted to feel bad for dumping this entire mess on her, but he couldn’t. Not now. Perhaps later. Right now, he needed her help. Only she could unlock the computer systems to allow them to counter the incursion currently under way.
He explained as much to her in stark, blunt terms. Abigail still looked overwhelmed by it all. “Doctor Wesley, please…”
“…we need your help. Once Ben had the systems recognize you as the supervisor, everything was keyed to you. Only you can unlock it all before history itself unravels and everything we know ceases to exist.”
Abigail choked. Don’t want much, do you? she wondered silently, dazed by the mad rush of information.
She still thought that all of what she was experiencing, all of what she was being told, was completely insane, and yet, she didn’t question its truthfulness. The whole thing was too preposterous to be nothing but lies.
But this latest revelation? Had the attack on him driven Ben Clark into some kind of psychotic state? Leaving Abigail, of all people, in charge of something like this? It was crazy!
Still, she couldn’t help but lock eyes with Shrewsbury. The man looked like he might be around her age, and yet he likely eclipsed her in years by centuries. She idly wondered who he really was, who history remembered him as, if he was remembered at all. Shrewsbury was an English name, so it was possible he originated there.
But that wasn’t important right now. Taking a deep, faintly shuddering breath, Abigail pushed herself to her feet. “What do you need me to do?” she asked simply.
Both Mary and Charles stared at her in surprise, but Shrewsbury just seemed to exhale a great breath. “Come with me,” he told her, turning to leave the room.
Abigail did as he bade, and Mary and Charles both brought up the rear. Shrewsbury led her to the room she had only briefly glimpsed just before he had left Abigail in the conference room. Several technicians looked up as the four of them entered the room, as well as an older gentleman.
“Alexander,” Shrewsbury said, “please show Doctor Wesley what to do.”
The older man peered first at Shrewsbury, and then at Abigail, and she was immediately struck by the intensity, the sheer age in his eyes. “You have consented, Doctor Wesley?” he asked quietly.
She nodded hesitantly, at a loss for words.
“Very well,” he said. “Come here.” When she stepped forward accordingly, Alexander explained several of the functions of the console in front of them, and had her perform several tasks. Soon enough, she was so engrossed in what they were doing that she didn’t even notice Shrewsbury, Charles, and Mary leave them.
Finally, after inputting several commands and pressing her palm against a scanner, several indicators on the console lit up. “That’s it!” cried one of the technicians, whom Abigail had heard Alexander call Henry. “We have full control again!”
“Good,” Alexander said. “Run the emergency protocols, focusing on Bosworth, August twenty-second,1485.”
Abigail stepped back, allowing the older man to take the lead. She may have technical control of the place, but she was in so far over her head that daylight was but a distant memory.
Come to think of it, daylight was a distant memory. Was it really just yesterday that her biggest problem was trying to open up her office door without spilling her coffee?
The ensuing activity was like a whirlwind, and Abigail did her best to stay out of the way. When Shrewsbury, Mary, and Charles all reappeared, they were accompanied by several other individuals, and all of them were clad in a strange mixture of modern military and period clothing. Abigail stared at them, watching as they moved over to another room just off the control room. Curious, she followed Alexander, who was also moving toward that room.
“We’ve ascertained that there are a dozen of them,” the older man informed the group. “They are approaching the Lancastrian lines, near the location of where Richard III charged Henry Tudor’s escort. They’ll probably try to take Tudor out before that happens, to save Richard from exposing himself to the Stanleys.”
Still struggling to play catch-up, Abigail dazedly recalled that that had been the turning point in the battle. Hoping to put an end to the day-long fight, Richard III had personally led an attack on Tudor’s escort, leaving himself open at the flanks. It was a tactical decision that had ultimately cost the king his life and reign.
Shrewsbury nodded. “Be prepared for an emergency extraction if I give notice,” he said as he followed the rest of the group onto a strange-looking platform.
Abigail’s eyes grew huge as they all disappeared in a rather Star Trek-esque manner. “Jesus,” she breathed. Alexander turned to look at her and she couldn’t help but blurt out, “Just what have I gotten myself into?”
The faint, amused twitch of his lips did not comfort her at all. “Quite a bit, Doctor,” he replied. “Quite a bit. But forgive me,” he said, “I have not introduced myself. I am he who is remembered as Alexander Helios, son of Cleopatra VII and Marcus Antonius and twin to Cleopatra Selene.”
Abigail fought to conceal an overwhelmed whimper.
Near Bosworth Field, August 22, 1485, early afternoon
Something was different. Edward stopped, and held up a hand, motioning for his companions to do the same. They had left the forest some time ago and were now making their way slowly across the fields of grass, doing everything possible to keep from being spotted by Tudor’s forces, but something was different now.
They were not alone.
“Sir,” one of his men hissed, “several unidentified units approaching from two o’clock.”
Edward looked in the proper direction and saw that the man was correct. Though they were faint, and clearly employing similar methods to his own, he could see a number of people slowly making their way toward him and his group.
Edward didn’t think it was any of Tudor’s men.
There. Richard could see them, on the far side of the field. He pulled his mini binoculars from a vest pocket, intent on getting a better look at his opponents. Putting them up to his eyes, he swept his eyes over them.
And froze.
No. It’s not… it’s impossible…
It was Edward. His brother, who was dead. How was his dead brother here?
To Richard’s left, a French expletive erupted from Charles’ mouth, and he vaguely heard the younger man tell Mary and the other team members that Edward was there.
“Richard?” Charles spoke directly into his ear. Richard didn’t respond, just stared out at his brother, several yards away from him.
He’s dead. He’s supposed to be dead. He and Philip both died. They’re dead.
“Richard!” Charles’ voice was much more insistent, but still Richard didn’t say anything. Everything that had happened in the past day was catching up to him at the worst possible moment.
“Damn it, everyone keep a cool head,” he heard Mary say. “Whatever you have to do, keep them from getting anywhere near Henry Tudor. Got it?”
Edward cursed. He and his companions were being both blocked and flanked. If they didn’t make their way through, they’d never make it to the proper position to strike before Uncle Richard made his final charge at Tudor.
As the groups raced at one another, Edward quickly spotted Charles and Mary, both of them flanking a visibly-flagging Richard, who was staring right at him. He smiled grimly just before one of the other agents launched himself at him.
Surprised, brother? All is as it should be, then.
It may have been some time since Edward had trained with his former fellow agents, but he had not grown lax in that time. He had been one of the most powerful and agile agents of the Organization before his decision to depart, and he had - in his own opinion - improved a great deal since then. Even when he found himself face to face with Charles, Edward did not feel any concern.
“Are you sure that you wish to fight me, Charles?” he asked mockingly. “I know you all too well, my student.” Indeed, he had taught Charles in physical combat, had watched him go from an inexperienced novice to a highly skilled practitioner.
The young Frenchman stared at him. “Why, Edward? Why?” he asked, almost helplessly.
Edward lunged at him, aiming a blow at the younger man’s neck. “Because I was tired of having the tools to make a difference and being forbidden from doing so.”
Charles dodged. “But this?” he demanded, his dark blond hair growing more and more a mess as he kept moving. “You could destroy everything!”
Edward snorted. “You’ve been listening to cautious fools like my brother and Alexander Helios too much. This will change things for the better! We’ll all be spared Tudor’s fat and irresponsible son, and that’s just the start!”
The younger man didn’t reply, but began to fight back. Charles was good, Edward would give him that. He had even improved since their last sparring match. Still, he was no match for Edward’s higher levels of skill and experience. Charles was able to hold his own for a while, but when he stumbled over an uneven patch of earth, Edward took full advantage of it. A series of swift kicks and punches followed, knocking Charles further and further back. When he fell to the ground, Edward quickly pulled a knife from his belt, intending to end it quickly. He grasped the hilt, ready to plunge it down -
Only to have his wrist caught in a vice-like grip. Edward looked to the hand’s owner and locked eyes with his brother.
“That’s enough… brother.” The sneer in Richard’s voice was palpable.
It had taken several minutes for Richard to move past the shock of seeing his supposedly dead brother in front of him, alive and well and apparently breaking every rule and protocol they had been trained to follow, and Richard was furious. Angry at himself for endangering his team, angry at his brother for starting all of this.
“Charles,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “go help Mary. Now.”
He didn’t look to see if the younger man obeyed, but kept his eyes firmly on Edward.
“I never took you for a traitor, Edward,” Richard ground out, his fury leaking into his voice.
Edward glared at him. “This is hardly treason, Richard,” he spat back. “I am merely seeing to it that the Stanleys do not have a chance to betray our uncle and in the long run condemn our family to the executioner’s block.”
Richard shook his head. “It’s history. It has already happened, and no one has a right to change it.”
“That is hypocrisy, my brother! Every time you send an agent to witness history, you change things just by being there! What I am doing is no different!”
Richard snorted. “Your self-justifications know no bounds, Edward. We do not actively seek to change things on a grand scale, but merely to observe and see that events turn out as they are recorded.”
Edward shook his head. “You would let our uncle die again, Richard? The man who kept us alive when Buckingham, Tudor, and Margaret Beaufort would all have gladly bathed in our blood?”
He struck a nerve that time, because Richard flinched just a little. Nonetheless, the younger man straightened. “It’s history, Edward.”
Edward didn’t seem to like his answer. He snorted. “And you call me a traitor, brother? I say you are a traitor, to your country, to your own blood kin, for letting everything fall into Tudor’s hands!”
Richard saw his brother raise his knife again, no doubt to attack, when Mary’s voice interrupted them. “The king is making his charge!”
Richard breathed a small sigh of relief. History was continuing on its course. He steadfastly ignored a small voice inside of him, calling out for the uncle he had lost so long ago.
His older brother swore viciously. “Retreat!” he bellowed, and immediately his allies flung themselves backward, retreating back toward the trees in the distance. Several of the Organization’s agents bolted after them. Richard did not. Instead, he turned around and walked the rest of the way, toward the edge of the nearby cliff, which gave him a perfect view of the battle.
He watched in silence. He watched Richard, by the grace of God King of England, lead a cavalry charge across the field right toward Henry Tudor and his personal guard. He thought he could almost see the hatred on his uncle’s face as he raced toward the usurper, the one who had arrogantly sworn to marry his niece, Richard’s own sister Elizabeth.
“Richard.”
He watched the two sides crash into each other, watched Tudor barely escape his uncle’s battle-axe, which instead hit his standard-bearer, cleaving the man’s head in two. Richard watched the Stanleys finally show their true colors, and intervene on Tudor’s behalf. He watched his uncle’s supporters slowly be slaughtered, until only the king himself remained.
Richard watched his uncle finally fall.
“Richard, come away.” Hands grasped his arm and tugged gently. He resisted for a moment, watching Henry Tudor reach out for the battle crown that had fallen from the dead king’s head.
History remained unchanged. Soon enough, the annals would again record Richard III as a monster capable of any blasphemy, including the murders of his own nephews and plotting to marry his own niece.
History remained unchanged. He just had to keep reminding himself that that was what was most important.
Finally, Richard let himself be led away.
By the time a bunch of consoles began lighting up, signaling the return of the team nearly two hours after they’d left, Abigail was over-stimulated and exhausted. Alexander - Alexander Helios! - had easily answered every possible question that she could come up with, and while she still felt like she had only scratched the surface, she just didn’t have the energy to investigate any further.
“Retrieval protocol initiated!” the technician, Henry, announced. Alexander hurried toward the room that Abigail referred to as the transporter room, if only in the privacy of her own thoughts. She followed him. By the time she was able to peer inside, the team was back, all of them looking battered and worn. Her eyes widened at the blood and bruises all over Charles’ face.
She couldn’t hear what Mary was saying to Alexander, but her eyes were drawn to Shrewsbury, and she felt vaguely alarmed. His expression was vacant, almost catatonic. Something had happened, something terrible, no doubt.
The team filed past her, one by one, including Charles, who managed a nod and a faint smile to her before he too went on his way. Mary led Shrewsbury out, neither of them saying a word to her. Abigail doubted Shrewsbury even noticed her presence, and Mary was focused entirely on him.
“Doctor Wesley?”
She turned to Alexander. “Yes?”
He stared at her, his expression grave. “I believe now would be the opportune time to return you to your own time period. We will be in contact with you in the near future, and will do our best to straighten out this entire mess that Benjamin Clark created.”
Abigail eyed him, but slowly nodded. She glanced around then. “How am I going to explain where I’ve been the past day?” she wondered aloud as she stepped into the transporter room.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Alexander assured her as he led her over to the transporter. “We’ll drop you by your car on the same evening that you were transported out. You’ll have never been missed.”
“Oh,” she replied, a little surprised. “That’s good.”
He gestured for her to step onto the platform and once she had done so, Alexander pressed a few of the controls on a nearby console. Within seconds, her surroundings faded away, only to be replaced by the parking garage beneath the new Baker Center.
Abigail blinked. “Okay,” she muttered, “that’s going to take some getting used to.”
New York City, present, evening
The silence in Eva’s office was unnerving, Edward could admit that much to himself. Eva had said little as he told her what had happened at Bosworth, instead merely listening to his description of events. She still remained quiet after he finally stopped talking.
“You had a perfect opportunity to complete the plan,” she finally said. “Henry Tudor was right in front of you, but somehow, the Organization was able to get past the protocols that prevented their traveling when there was no active supervisor and intercept you.” Her voice was as cold as winter. “They fought you off, and they know that you’re alive and using Organization technology to travel through time.”
Edward didn’t bother responding. She was essentially correct.
“You’ve squandered nearly every advantage you had, Edward,” Eva continued, some fury leaking into her tone. “I let you lead this entire operation, and it blew up in your face.” Her eyes were dark and frightening, even in the dim light. “It appears that while you have a good understanding of the technology and tactics of the enemy, you have no idea how to wage this kind of a campaign.” She leaned forward and stared him directly in the eye. “Next time, we’ll do it my way.”
There was an unspoken threat in her tone, one even Edward did not dare brush off. He agreed.
Unknown location, present, unknown time
It hadn’t taken long for Richard to force himself out of his shock-induced stupor. Once he’d convinced the doctors in the infirmary that he was indeed healthy, he left and immediately sought out Alexander.
The older man was in his own private office, in one of the palace’s smaller turrets. When Richard appeared in his doorway, he did not look surprised to see him.
“Did you find a way to override what Ben did?” Richard demanded without so much as a greeting.
Alexander raised an eyebrow, surprised, but nonetheless shook his head. “We’ve never been able to fully comprehend the computer system. While we can access and utilize it, changing its basic precepts has always eluded us.”
Richard crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re saying it’s impossible?”
“I will keep trying, of course, but I am not hopeful.”
Richard sighed tiredly. “I don’t understand why Clark would do this. Even if he didn’t know that he was dying, he knew that the attack on him had been deliberate. Why would he encode the computers to recognize this woman as his successor, a person who has no comprehension of what it is we do here?”
Alexander leaned back in his chair and stared at him. “You do not remember, of course, but Benjamin’s introduction to our work was much the same. His predecessor was badly injured in a skirmish in France, during the Great War. He was dead six hours later, but not before he put Benjamin up in his place.”
“So he was upholding tradition?” Richard asked incredulously. “Do you realize how crazy that sounds? We’re on the verge of a war here, Alexander, and our ‘leader’ is completely unprepared for what is expected of her.”
He nodded. “Yes, she is,” he agreed. “But nonetheless, Doctor Wesley is the new commander of the Organization. The palace itself recognizes her as such.” Alexander looked up into the younger man’s eyes and added firmly, “We must accept our circumstances and seek to maneuver them to our best advantage.”
Richard’s jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly, looking away to stare out at the swirling blue-gray clouds outside. He knew Alexander was right, but still, from a strategic perspective, Ben Clark’s decision was likely to spell disaster, and not just for the Organization, but for Abigail Wesley too.
The silence between them stretched out for several minutes, until finally Alexander spoke up. “Richard, what about Edward?”
Immediately, Richard stiffened. “What about him?”
The older man looked at him. “He is your brother -”
“No,” Richard interrupted, straightening his stance. “He is no kin of mine now. He is a traitor, and a dangerous one at that. We will deal with him, and whoever tries to stand with him.”
Alexander made no reply, just continued to stare at him. Unwilling to keep enduring that gaze, Richard said, “I’m going to reopen Edward’s last case. We only ever found Philip’s body, and no one mentioned any signs of foul play, but I’m going to look again.” Richard sighed grimly. “The fact that Philip is dead and Edward is not could indicate that Edward is not just a traitor, but a murderer as well.” He growled a bit and muttered just as he turned to leave, “Yet another reason to kill the bastard.” Everyone had loved Philip for his kind and teasing disposition, which had been so unlike that of the stern, warrior demeanor of his father, Richard I, the Lionheart. Philip and Edward had always been close friends, and it sickened Richard to think that his brother could actually kill his own best friend.
Athens, Ohio, present day, morning
A wet, slimy tongue brought Abigail back to consciousness. Wrinkling her nose, she pushed her dog away. “Okay, okay,” she muttered. “I’m up, I’m up. Just a minute, Lottie.”
The golden retriever may not have understood the words, but she seemed to understand Abigail’s tone, because she jumped off the bed and skittered out the door of the bedroom. Abigail could hear her nails clicking on the stairs and figured Lottie was headed for the kitchen, where her bowl was waiting.
She sighed, wiping the moisture from her face. Abigail really had no desire to get up. She would be quite content to sleep the day away. Maybe when she woke up, Abigail would find that what she’d just gone through the past several days had been a nightmare. She hadn’t really seen a respected colleague gunned down, hadn’t discovered that there were groups who could literally manipulate time, wasn’t really the new leader of one of those groups, even if they had assured her that they would do everything in their power to make her leadership a temporary thing.
Maybe her world hadn’t been entirely knocked off its axis.
Lottie’s loud bark coming from downstairs knocked her out of her thoughts and Abigail slumped back down into her bed, groaning. It was going to be a long day, she just knew it.
After several moments, though, she forced herself to get up. Not bothering to get dressed, she trudged down the stairs. When she got into the kitchen, she automatically hit the play button on her answering machine, since she hadn’t listened to the messages when she’d made it home last night.
“Abigail, darling,” came the dulcet tones of her mother, “it’s seven p.m. and you’re not at home? If you’re on a date, do call me! I’d love to hear about it! Oh, and you must listen to what I heard about the Nelsons next door…” The message rambled on for several more seconds before being cut off, and then moved on to the next.
Doctor Wesley, it’s Elaine, at eleven-thirty p.m. I heard that there was some kind of shoot-out on Court street, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. Did the supper with Doctor Clark go all right? I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”
Abigail repressed a shudder as she opened the patio door to let the prancing Lottie outside. Turning around she started to move toward where she stored the dog food, but stopped dead when her eyes landed on the kitchen table.
There, in the very spot where she normally ate her meals, was a laptop, one she had never seen before. There was a small, folded piece of paper sitting on top of it.
Tentatively, she stepped forward and reached out, taking the slip of paper up. She unfolded it and read the message printed there.
So we can keep in touch with you and send you any pertinent information. More instructions to follow.
-RS
Abigail looked between the note and the laptop, weighing her options. She could just pitch the damn thing, get rid of it, but she had a feeling that it would do no good. They’d probably find it, fix any damage, and return it to her. Hell, she thought with some black humor, they probably already knew she’d keep it, because her present was their past, or was it because her past was their present?
Much as she hated to say it, she was stuck with this strange new world and its growing predilection for giving her headaches, at least for the moment.
Hopefully it would only be temporary.
Afterword: At the suggestion of my beta, I decided to leave a little note here explaining the history that I incorporated into the story. Most of that history stems from the period of English history known as the ‘War of the Roses’, and what came after. I’ll do my best to cover everything, but feel free to ask questions.
The War of the Roses stems from the descendents of Edward III, who had a plethora of children by his queen. His eldest son predeceased him, and so when Edward III died, he left his young grandson as the new king, Richard II. This Richard ultimately proved to be an unpopular king, and he was usurped by one of his cousins, Henry Bolingbroke, who was a grandson of Edward III via that king’s third son and became Henry IV. Henry IV’s faction is referred to in history books as the Lancastrians, and for the next several decades, those Lancastrians ruled England - Henry IV, Henry V, and Henry VI.
However, there were other factions who also sought the throne, such as the Yorkist faction. The Yorks traced their lineage back to the second son of Edward III, which in terms of primogeniture, gave them a better claim to the throne than the Lancastrians. During the reign of Henry VI, there was much fighting, but by the end of it all, a new king sat on the throne, Edward IV, from the Yorkist factions. Edward IV reigned for several years, but his two sons were still quite young when he died, and thus were not able to stand on their own. After a bit of in-fighting between the dead king’s wife and younger brother, the younger brother became the new guardian for the two little boys.
During this period of regency, as it were, news came to the younger brother - Richard - that Edward IV had been engaged in a premarital contract with another woman before he married the woman who became his queen and mother of his sons, which would render that marriage invalid and all of their children illegitimate and forbidden from inheriting the throne. Because Edward IV had no legitimate heirs in this context, the throne would then pass to Richard himself. He eventually took it, and became Richard III. There is convincing proof for both its authenticity and for it being a forgery, and it is still debated on by scholars today. Despite all of this, Edward IV’s oldest son is still listed as an official King of England, despite his short tenure and the uncertainties of his legitimacy.
As it’s mentioned in the Character Bible, the character Edward is Edward V of England, and Richard is his younger brother, the Duke of York. Both of them are remembered as the Princes in the Tower, supposedly murdered by their uncle in the Tower of London to clear up any doubts about his claim to the throne of England. Given that they vanish completely from the records, it was easy to take them out of their timeline and make them a part of this story.
The story that Richard III murdered his nephews is well-known via writers from the Tudor era, such as Shakespeare, but although he is a popular suspect for the boys’ deaths, he is by no means the only one. Henry Tudor - the future Henry VII - also had motive to see the two boys gotten rid of, as did the Duke of Buckingham - who had a significant claim to the throne himself - and Margaret Beaufort, Henry Tudor’s formidable mother. Because I dislike believing straightforwardly in Tudor propaganda, I didn’t subscribe to the idea of Richard III trying to kill his nephews, but instead had them as being very fond of their uncle. In one scene, Edward even acknowledges Eva’s dig about his father being something of a bigamist and doesn’t deny the charge.
A character that made a minor appearance in the story, the technician Henry Cornwall, was a son of Henry VIII and his first wife, Catherine of Aragon. According to what little is written about the boy, he lived only one month and twenty-one days before he died. I hadn’t intended to bring any other historical figures into the story, but he just sort of popped up and refused to leave until he got some screen time.
Mary Seymour is also a true figure from history. As described in the story, she was the daughter of Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s sixth wife and his widow, by her fourth and final husband, Thomas Seymour. Parr died shortly after her child’s birth of puerperal - or childbed - fever. Mary’s father was shortly thereafter embroiled in a plot against his brother (who was the regent of the realm while the king, Edward VI, was still in his minority) and was ultimately convicted of treason and beheaded. Since Thomas Seymour was considered a traitor, all of his goods were forfeited to the crown, leaving baby Mary penniless. She was handed over to her godmother, the Dowager Duchess of Suffolk, and there were several records of the woman complaining about the lack of money being supplied for the little girl’s care, as she was the daughter of the Queen Dowager of England. Eventually, she too vanishes from records, leaving most scholars to believe that she died of one of the many childhood illnesses that killed so many children in that era. Because she vanishes like that, it was also easier to bring her into the story by having the Dowager Duchess hand her over to agents of The Organization.
Louis-Charles Bourbon is remembered as Louis XVII of France, and is a little more complicated than Edward, Richard, and Mary. His entire ‘reign’ was spent in the hands of the Revolutionists in France, and he is universally thought to have died during his imprisonment. There are even records from the Revolution that support it, and his embalmed heart was, after a long arduous journey through further revolutions, theft, and whatnot, tested in 2000 against mitochondrial DNA from his mother, grandmother, and several aunts. The heart belonged to the little king, proving that he died during the Revolution. In his case, I did take some artistic license in bringing him into the story. However, that the little boy was grossly abused and mismanaged by his guardians after his father’s execution are very true as well.
Alexander Helios was one of the sons of the famous Cleopatra and her paramour/husband, Marc Antony. Just about everyone knows at least something about their doomed love, but the films that portray it often forget about the results of that love. Cleopatra’s oldest child was by Julius Caesar, but she and Marc Antony also had three children together, the twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios, and another son, Ptolemy Philadelphus. After the suicides of their parents, Octavian Caesar (remembered better as Augustus) left Egypt with the children. It is unclear if the youngest child survived the trip from Egypt to Rome, but Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios were forced to participate in Octavian’s Triumph, being paraded through the streets in gold chains behind an effigy of their mother holding an asp (a reference to how the queen supposedly killed herself). The children lived with Octavia, Octavian’s sister and their father’s Roman wife whom he had abandoned for Cleopatra, and later Cleopatra Selene married Juba II, King of Numidia and Mauretania. Of Alexander Helios, though, the records are silent. There is no mention of him in adulthood, but nor is there any record of his death, be it of natural causes or foul play. Hence, he also has a part to play in this story.
I’ve tried to explain the historical background of the characters to the best of my ability. If you still have questions, though, please feel free to ask in your comments.
This entry was originally posted on my Dreamwidth account, which currently has
comments. Comments welcome in either entry.