by Diana Rubino
Burke, John, The Castle in Medieval England
Doherty, P.C., The Fate of Princes
Durant, Will, The Story of Civilization
Gies, Joseph and Frances, Life in a Medieval Castle
Griffiths, Arthur, The Chronicles of Newgate
Harrison, Molly, How They Lived, 1485-1700
Jenkins, Elizabeth, The Princes in the Tower
Kendall, Paul Murray, The Yorkist Age
Kendall, Paul Murray, Richard III
Markham, Clements, Richard III
Newark, Timothy, Medieval Warfare
Quennell, Marjorie and C.B., History of Everyday Things in England, 1066-1799
Sorell, Alan, Medieval Britain
St. Aubyn, Giles, The Year of Three Kings
Stone, Lawrence, The Family, Sex & Marriage in England, 1500-1800
Story, R.L., The Reign of Henry VII
Whitaker, Terence, Haunted England
Wood, Margaret,
The English Mediaeval House
Here is an excerpt from The Jewels of Warwick:
PROLOGUE
The Tower of London, 1499
Sabine shivered violently. The dampness chilled her bones through the threadbare shawl. Clasping her daughter's tiny hand, she climbed the winding stone steps of the Bell Tower. Weak light spilled from arrow slits cut into the wall.
When they finally reached the top, they huddled within an alcove. Sabine warmed Topaz's fingers with ragged breaths.
The slam of a door crashed and echoed like thunder. They jumped, startled.
The scraping of chains over the floor grew closer. Two burly guards emerged from the shadows, dragging a prisoner. Bleeding from his mouth, he whimpered in pain.
He stumbled and fell to his knees, inches from Sabine's feet. Their eyes locked and she froze in terror. Her mouth tried to form words that just would not come.
He shook his head briefly as if to warn her away. She hid Topaz behind her skirts as she choked off her own protests, sobs.
The guards violently jerked Edward Plantagent, the young Earl of Warwick, back to his feet and shoved him forward. Their swords clinked against their belt buckles, their keys swung from metal rings. They yanked their prisoner toward the stairs, oblivious to the woman's wide-eyed horror. Watching him suffering like this tore at her heart, rendering her speechless with grief.
But her daughter was not so silent. "Papa!" she shrieked, and bolted after the bruised, bleeding young man.
"No, Topaz!" Sabine clutched her daughter's arm. "Stay back!"
"Where are they taking Papa?" Her cries echoed off the stone walls. The torches in their sconces pulsated in unison with her demand.
"I know not, little one. I know not."
But Sabine did know. This was the day she had dreaded most. Her beloved Edward, imprisoned in this foul, stinking prison by the cruel King Henry, was going to die.
Her mind spun her back through the years: their passionate courtship, their blessed marriage, God's gift of their two precious children and their joy at the expectation of the impending third arrival.
As the dark maw of the stairwell finally swallowed her husband, Sabine grasped her rounded belly and slid to the floor, overcome by her heart-rending sobs.
Seeing her mother like that, Topaz began to weep too. Something was horribly wrong. She couldn't fully understand what. All she knew was that her mother's sobs and the look on her father's face as he had been led away would haunt her for the rest of her days.
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