Tears for the king

Tears for the king.

It was particularly cold that morning, of January 30th 1649.
There was an unusually large crowd gathered by the banqueting hall in Whitehall.
They were all waiting for the execution of their king.
King Charles the 1st of England.
Bessie had curled her hair specially, this morning and had on her best gown, she was going to the king’s execution.
She wanted to make an extra special appearance so that she would never forget his majesty again.
It had all started during those long and hard weeks of the civil war.
Bessie had been a royalist; after all she was quite rich and, like every other noble courtier in the land, adored the king.
She had been holding out with her servants and friends at her manor house, they had guns and weapons of great age and assortment, Bessie was quite happy to do her bit for the crown, by holding off the ‘roundheads’ from their duty to parliament.
It had been then, that her royal visitor had come calling, the king himself!
He had been holding off the ‘roundheads’ who were close to arresting him.
Bessie had curtsied and been polite, she had hid the king in her parlour.
The women servants, who were not holding off ‘roundheads’, had prepared him meals and delicacies.
But all he had seemed to do was sigh and stare out of passing windows.

One of the days, Bessie had joined him for dinner, at his request, and had found him a very jolly person.
Soon after that, Bessie had every meal with him.
But one day, the ‘roundheads’ broke through with much violence, crashing and ear-splitting gun-shots.
Bessie had grabbed the king quickly and led him through a secret underground passageway, which had been built by Bessie safety-conscious grandfather.
The passage below was dark and frightening even from below, they could hear the sounds of war, and the blood curdled screams of servants up-above.
Bessie had secretly cried whilst they were walking through the passage.
This is not what she had wanted!
Bloodshed, cruelty and war!
But Bessie knew in her heart that it wasn’t her fault at all, it was the man who she was walking with.
Him and parliament!
Bessie shook her head to free her of such thoughts, she knew she would be killed for treason, if she acted on such a thing.

But that did not matter as she led the king from the passageway to the forest, because a couple of days from then, the king would be fighting again, then he would escape in disguise but the enemy Scots would hand him over to his executioner…
Bessie, when she had heard the news, from hiding out in her cousin’s home had felt it was all her fault, she had left the king in the forest, she had released him to the terrible fate!
But even though she had forgotten him and felt that she had cost him his life, she was there now, watching his execution with deep regret printed in her still face.

When Charles the 1st entered the stage, a mighty roar from the assembled crowd gave way.
But everyone quietened down when he made his final speech,
“I needed not to have come here… I am the martyr of the people.”
Bessie wiped a tear from her eye, the king had always been artful with words… particularly his last ones…
Bessie thought she saw the king give her a smile, as he placed his head upon the wooden block.
Bessie could hardly see, for tears came streaming down her face, as the executioner took a clean stroke of the axe and cut the kings mighty head off…

By
Writingforluck!