Evening. The Fourth of May.

The great abbey was visible through the trees, still, serene, unmoved in the soft evening light.

"A few minutes and I'll be there", Somerset thought.



Amazing, when it's all over.....how little time there is to think about it. Lay down arms, lay down arms.....tomorrow is another day. If tomorrow comes. We never have time to think through our low moments.....life never eases up.

Ride hard. Ride hard. Edward looks for me. Edward? Actually saw Richard riding off after the fleeing Lancastrians. It matters little - here's the abbey. Refuge. The lap of God.

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What a lovely evening!!! See how the light plays on the grass. The sun gently soothes wounds to bring healing.

Slowly, painfully, it all comes back as the wounds are tended - we were so hopeful today!! Exhausted, but hopeful. We all knew this was the day....when it all ends. That upstart Edward would face his treason today!!! Our beautiful, wronged Margaret......would smile. In many, many years. The wrongs of many years - righted for ever at sunset.

Why had we to fight? We could have waited, slipped away.......to lie in wait another day. If only we had made it across the Severn! Why did Wenlock not follow us? It must have been treason.

Now it's over, there's nothing left, but to wait for what tomorrow brings....Margaret, bound for ever, her spirit broken, never to hold her head up again. Prince Edward - cut down. Youthful hope - crushed like a blood-red rose. King Henry - God rest his soul - he would be released. For ever. But he would be king no more. His blood - poured out like water. Never again would his blood course through a king of the realm.

And what of me? Somerset mused. Must get across the Severn. Must find Jasper. Must not give this up. There'll be a new day, a new battle. Edward must die!!!

As evening fades away into night - the last Lancastrian day ends. A bloody entry in the portals of history. At the abbey, the sun sets - over a few red roses in the gardens.

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Two days later...... more blood.

The abbey's closed now - to forget, if possible. To forget that men could come to God for sanctuary, and be spurned. That men could seek refuge, only to be dragged to their deaths. For centuries, the abbey stood - a refuge. A safe place. Hallowed portals, where many entreaties poured out age after age, many million dreams...asked of the Almighty.

Now....blood lay on the stone floors in great crimson knots. Could not be wiped away. Grim death clung to the cloisters. No one came to pray. For many a year. The tide of blood had not ebbed. Somerset....lay headless in the town square.

Today, the abbey stands. Men still come to pray - for ageless things. Not for mere roses. Do they remember that bloody May evening so many years ago ? Perhaps not. Most don't.

A few red roses.....grow in the gardens. Some white ones as well. When evening comes, the sun still shines on both.