*Sneak Peek* Historical Science Fantasy

[W_L]

Well, as I am looking for an editor for my modern fiction story, I have begun work on something I've been playing around with for years.

I once told @Mark Arbour that my deepest concentration in history studies was early Modern European History, which begins around 15th-16th century. This is the period of Kings, Queens, Nobleman, Commoners, Ideals, and Faiths that reshaped the world as we know it. If I ever wanted to write historical fiction with my own Turtledove-esque twists, I'd be writing in this period:

 

Here's the beginning of my tale, tell me if it interests anyone and if I should continue. If someone wants to be editor in chief, I'd start writing even faster:

 

Once and Future Prince

 

Chapter 1:

(Harvard University, Robinson Hall, Present Day)

              As a new semester begins, most professors begin to assemble their curricula and plan for exam schedules. At prestigious universities like the venerable Harvard, which has existed for well over 385 years, this was a common routine for tenured professors and newly inducted professors alike. History and tradition were prominent notes throughout all the departments of Harvard, but Robinson Hall off of Quincy Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts, precedent was held to a far greater extent. This was the seat of Harvard’s History Department. Despite renovation that were done in 2018-2019 to make facilities more accessible to “all” students with renovated elevators and bathrooms, there was hardly any material changes visible to the average history student. Of paramount interest to them and their professor, the renovation preserved area such as the “Great Space”, where students could discuss openly and work collaboratively on projects and assignments. Change is a necessity for the passage of time, but preservation of honorable traditions is a duty of historians.

Far in the back of the administrative wing, Professor Arthur Bosworth receive missives in the form of emails from his colleagues, friends, and former students. He appeared to be young, perhaps high school or college age in appearance, far too young to be a Professor of note, but his knowledge of “Modern European” history was beyond dispute. He also maintained a reserved countenance about him, giving off age and wisdom that assured his students and colleagues. Many of his colleagues, who have worked with him for the last half decade, wished they could learn the secret to his vitality, but no one deared ask out of politeness. An enterprising assistant to the Dean was the closest to figuring the truth out, she able to obtain his Human Resources profile, which revealed an age of 36 at hiring, shocking his colleagues.

As Professor Arthur Bosworth finished replying to his 15^th email, he heard a hard knock on the door. He knew by experience it was not one of his assistants, nor were there any expected students. He shifted his eyes to see a well-dressed middle age man with a black suit and blue tie. This stranger hid his emotions well, but the holster to his weapon was not so easily hidden for expert eyes like Arthur possessed.

 

 

Arthur stopped typing for a moment, then dismissively shook his head, “Whether you are here trying to kill me, kidnap me, or request my help? I am not interested.”

 

 

In a simple English bow of his head, a sign of respect for Arthur's formal rank, the stranger replied, “Your highness, we request your assistance in a delicate matter that only you can resolve.”

 

 

Arthur nodded, “MI5 or a lackey of the Home Secretary, then I assume. If you have the clearance to know who I am, you also know that I asked not to be disturbed. I have served England faithfully far longer than any knight, prince, or king. I have done things for my country, my family, and my faith that haunt my everlasting days. I have the paid a steep price for believing I could be a God, saved your father and grandfathers before them in more ways than I can count. I am now Arthur Bosworth, merely a teacher of history, hoping others may learn from our triumphs and mistakes.”

 

 

Not accepting the answer, the stranger presented a golden crest, “England needs its Shadow Prince, Arthur of the House of Tudor, because they have returned.”

(The Marches, England, April 1^st 1502)

              History records that on April 2^nd 1502, Arthur Tudor, the heir apparent of the Throne of England, Scotland, Ireland, and France died due to illness. However, history is written by subjective men, who under penalty of death will write what they need to for the greater good. Of course, history also omits much of the intimacies that men of high standing held, being scandalous and libelous to claim such things were even in existence. For most of his time as Keeper of England and Prince of Wales, Prince Arthur held the latter opinion for most court historians. He was not as outward about his predilections as Edward II, but most understood without speaking it, including Henry VII, his father and the current King of England.

              Arthur’s father, Henry VII, born Henry Tudor, had spent a lifetime on the outside of political power. In a surprising twist of fortune, he ultimately won the War of the Roses as neither the House of Lancaster, nor House of York survived the civil war with any male heir. With the death of King Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth, Henry won his throne. His claim to throne was tenuous at best, but all he truly needed was his sizable army that none of the other potential suitors can match. He also shrewdly married Elizabeth of York, cementing an alliance with the remaining York faction. His 2 sons, Arthur and Henry, were the progeny of this union. Henry was a capricious man, a man of details, and a man of tradition, when it suited his needs. When Arthur was 3 years old, he had arranged through his diplomats to arrange a marriage between Queen Isabella of Aragon’s daughter, Catherine, with the infant prince. By age 11, Arthur was formally betrothed to Catherine, at which time the future couple met.

              Catherine was taken by Arthur’s beauty as most women were. He was tall, had flowing fire red hair, and held a striking figure, like a knight from the old tales. Catherine couldn’t believe her luck to have been betrothed to such a beauty, but upon further inquiry, she learned of his true nature. She observed her future husband betraying his familiarity with Thomas Rhys, the son of a welsh noblemen who was Arthur’s “closest friend” to that point. Catherine tried her best to woo young Arthur to her, but even as he tried to be enamored with Catherine, Arthur knew there was no love between them. Despite knowing the truth, Catherine and Arthur remained friends and accepted their fates as a married couple. One year earlier in 1501, they married to the happy crowds of London. There was even a “Public Bedding” ceremony the night of their wedding, both teenagers were partially dressed in public view of nobles and their family members as Arthur’s body hung Catherine. The tradition of public bedding would be the last in the 16^th century as the act was merely symbolic rather than effective. After the guest departed their bed chambers, happy that they would soon have a steady line of succession, Arthur and Catherine separated from one another with deep apologies between them.  The day after their wedding night, a servant sent by Henry VII inquired directly of Arthur, if he performed his duty. Arthur nervously laughed as he drank a glass of water, “I have traversed the fertile plains of Spain, they were dry.” In truth, Arthur knew he would have to engage in sexual intimacy with Catherine eventually as King of England with her as Queen. It was his duty as the heir as his father hounded at him constantly, despite his own interests.

The newly wedded couple established a castle in Ludlow along Welsh Marches, where many assumed they’d be spending their time consummating their relationship further.  In fact, Arthur was out hunting most of the time with his favorites: Thomas Rhys, Gerald FitzGerald, Maurice St. John, and Robert Radcliffe, whom Arthur jokingly called his court in the wilds. These young men, some sharing his bed and others sharing his interests, would be his inner court in the coming years as his father reminded him.

              On the night of April 1^st 1502, as Prince Arthur and his mates made their camp under the stars, a mysterious light appeared in the sky. The light grew larger and an outline of a massive machine could be seen, shaped like a disk. As the youths stared in awe, the machine shot a bolt of light out at Arthur pulling him upwards to the surprise of his comrades. Arthur wanted to scream, but his voice was deafened by the beam of light. Thomas and the others in vain tried to shoot at the machine with their hunting bows, but in a matter of moments, the machine had taken Arthur and left them alone to explain this occurrence.

Edited May 6, 2019 by W_L