A New Beginning

The flames danced to the rhythm of the popping and crackling of the wood. Embers flew up and over the stone ring of the fire pit. An owl hooted in a nearby tree between the choruses of a wolf song in the distance. A sorrowful song that matched the chill in the air. It got colder in the mountains at this time of night than it did in the valley below. The strength of the fire and his cloak failed to keep the icy air from reaching his bones. The shivering had become a constant friend and far better company than the black-cloaked stranger sitting across from Perkin. If the man had parted with his name, Perkin could not recall. Along with sapping the warmth he had felt at the start of the day, the cold had robbed him of the energy to remember much of what else had happened that day, not that he had one anything worthy of being recounted by a troubadour.

Perking pulled his knees to his chest to fight off the cold, but like everything else he had tried to do to keep warm, this too brought him no comfort. He should have brought more than the clothing on his back, his cloak, and a half-filled bag of food. His mother’s voice reminded him that he had not brought enough coin to get him to the next town –if it was really her voice he heard. It had been cruel of her to die not long after he learned to walk. Why had the Lord above taken her when he needed her most? That women died regularly in childbirth brought him little comfort. Worse still was having a father who had little time for the skinny little child he had been. He was better off with this man whose name remained a mystery.

“Don’t let the cold keep you from your warm bed,” the stranger encouraged. “The journey is only going to get more difficult from here.”

Perkin shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t go home, not now.”

His companion grinned at him from across the fire. “And what have you done that is so terrible that you can’t go home?”

“I, I ran away from my apprenticeship.” The stranger bellowed out a laugh. Perkin felt his face turn red from the insult. “My da paid a hefty fee for me to be apprenticed to the blacksmith.”

“You’ve run away before, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes that you have. Your master has taken you back every time. One of these days, he probably won’t, but your father will find you another apprenticeship. Someone will take you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The stranger chuckled. “I know more about not being able to return home than you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His companion pulled the hood off his head, revealing his shoulder-length dark blond hair. The fire provided enough light for Perkin to see the man’s blue eyes. Did this man think Perkin would know his face? They hadn’t even met before that morning! His mysterious companion had lived a comfortable life –that much Perkin could tell. This nameless stranger was used to eating well, and though his clothing and boots looked worn, they were of better quality than anything his fellow townspeople could afford. The stranger spoke excellent French, which did not in itself tell Perkin where the man came from.

Perkin stared at his companion, waiting for the man to speak the words that would prove his own words false. Instead, they watched each other, with only the sounds of the forest around them to break the silence between them. What could this pompous well-dressed stranger know about not being allowed to go home? How could it be worse than what Perkin endured? He was a motherless boy who had been apprenticed off to the first craftsman his father could find. And why was Perkin even wondering about anything his companion had to say?

He already knew everything about this stranger that he wanted to know. He had overheard the man boast that he was on his way to the nearest port to set sail to the New World.  Perkin had heard about the new land the Spanish had found. Many people had passed through his town on their way to the nearest port to join everyone else on their way there as well. He had been plotting his next escape from the man who tormented him every waking hour, and leaving with this stranger seemed like the best chance he would get. Plus if he reached the New World, neither his father nor the blacksmith could easily drag him back home.

“Why should I believe you?” Perkin demanded. “And don’t tell me you’re some noble who insulted his lord and got exiled for his troubles. It happens so often we hear about it here in the middle of nowhere.”

A soft chuckle escaped his companion’s lips. “I am, in a way, an exiled noble. But that’s not the reason I can never return home, lad.”

“Don’t be calling me lad,” Perkin growled. “You don’t look that much older than me. My name is Perkin Warbeck.”

“My apologies, Master Warbeck,” the stranger returned. “I meant no offense. I hope I will be able to finish my tale without offending you further. My name is Richard…Neville.”

Perking snorted. Why did he feel like his companion was about to feed him some tall tale? No one he knew hesitated when giving their surname. What exactly was this man trying to hide? And why, in God’s name, was he so bloody curious about it? All he wanted from this man was directions to the nearest port. His companion frowned. Well, he bloody deserved the insult for what he said a moment ago.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” his companion said with a nod. “I don’t expect people outside England to recognize the name. And honestly, I don’t know which surname to be using: Neville or Plantagenet. I was born from a liaison between my parents long before they wed. My mother only admitted to my father I existed a few months before she died.”

“Who are your parents? And what’s this got to do with you not being able to go home?”

Richard bowed his head. “I am the son of King Richard the third of England by his wife Anne Neville. Everyone who sees me and knew my father in life tells me I could be mistaken for him, the only difference I don’t have one shoulder higher than the other. King Henry has been killing anyone with a claim to the throne, no matter how weak. A few people at court know of my existence, and the moment the king learns of me, he’ll have me hunted down and killed. I don’t even want the throne, and I hear there might be someone with a better claim than mine still alive.”

“Who might that be?”

“My uncle Edward’s son Richard, Duke of York. I’ve seen drawings of my cousin, and you look a lot like him.”

Perkin laughed. “I look like a duke?”

His companion jerked his head to his right, his hand reaching for the sword on his belt. An instant later the man was on his feet. Perkin followed where Richard looked to see two men dressed in fine clothing step into the clearing. They yelled something at Richard in a language Perkin could not understand. The exchange went on until Richard waved a hand in his direction. The two men shifted their gaze towards Perkin, their eyes widening even as their lips formed grins. One broke away to approach him.

“Master Perkin Warbeck,” the man said, squatting down in front of him. “What a pleasure it is to meet you.”

Perkin pushed himself away. “Who are you?”

“Someone who can help you never have to go back home, if you do something for me in return.”

He felt his lips form a smile. “What do you want me to do?”

“Become a prince.”

“How do I do that?”

“Don’t worry, lad, I’ll train you. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, sir, we do.”