“Should we go find Chip and Alex?” Katherine asked.
Jonah glanced to the right, where he knew Chip and Alex were hiding with other troops. Very few people knew they were there; the battle brewing before them was going to be between Richard III and Henry Tudor, his rival who had invaded from France. Chip and Alex were just waiting in the wings, waiting to see if they could take advantage of shifting loyalties or shifting fortunes on the battlefield.
“Nooo,” Jonah said slowly. “Not yet. Let’s go see what Richard’s up to first.”
Katherine shrugged, wiped her sticky hands on the grass, and stood up to follow him. In their noisy armor they had to be so careful walking past the knights and soldiers and guards, now that the men were all up and stirring about.
What are these men thinking, knowing any one of them might die in the battle today? Jonah wondered. How is it that they’re not turning around, running away?
He and Katherine dodged two guards and stepped back into Richard’s tent.
Richard was dressed in armor now, transformed from the sobbing, grief-stricken, guilt-ridden man of the night before into a cold, efficient military leader.
“We can certainly count on Norfolk’s men,” he was telling a cluster of other men in armor. “What think ye of Lord Stanley?”
“Your Majesty!” A breathless page sped into the tent. “Lord Stanley’s reply!”
Jonah stepped back, out of the page’s way, as the young boy placed an envelope in the king’s hand.
Lord Stanley … Lord Stanley …, Jonah thought. JB had given him and Katherine a crash course in all the different noblemen leading men into the battle. Jonah had found it hard to keep track of them all. But Lord Stanley’s name stood out because of what Richard had done to him. Richard wasn’t sure he could trust Lord Stanley to fight on his side, so the king had kidnapped Stanley’s son Lord Strange and was holding him hostage. He’d threatened to kill Lord Strange if Lord Stanley’s men didn’t fight.
Richard was opening the letter. His eyes darted across it, then he let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Your Majesty?” one of the other armored men said.
Richard crumpled the letter in his hand.
“He says he doesn’t care—he has other sons,” Richard said in a dead voice. He let the letter drop to the ground.
“Shall I tell the guards you’ve ordered Lord Strange’s death?” one of the armored men asked, edging toward the tent opening. He sounded like he wanted to get away.
Richard turned and stared at the man.
“No,” he said, his voice still flat and emotionless. “I will not let another boy die because of who his father is.”
The man’s jaw dropped in astonishment. The other men in armor began whispering, “Another boy? Another?” Jonah could tell that they all thought he was referring to Edward V—to Chip. They acted like they thought Richard was confessing to his murder.
But Jonah saw the sorrow in Richard’s eyes.
He’s talking about his own son, Jonah thought. He thinks that his own son died because of him. Him and his sins.
The man who’d suggested ordering Lord Strange’s death shifted uncomfortably.
“Then … shall I have the guards set him free?” the man asked incredulously.
“Not now,” Richard said. “We’ve got a battle to fight.”
Jonah wondered if Richard and the armored man had said the same words the first time through history. Was Richard refusing to kill Lord Strange because of what he’d talked about with Jonah and Katherine the night before? Had Jonah and Katherine saved Lord Strange’s life? Jonah was at the wrong angle to see if Richard’s mouth separated from his tracer’s, or if he’d simply repeated the same words he’d said the first time. And Jonah hadn’t been watching the other man closely enough to tell if his words had changed either.
Richard whirled around and stalked out of the tent. The other men in armor followed.
Jonah and Katherine were left alone.
“Maybe we should just stay close to Richard,” Jonah whispered. “Remember? JB said we can’t pull Chip and Alex out until after Richard sees them.”
“I want to talk to Chip and Alex first,” Katherine said stubbornly. “To make sure they’ll be ready to go.”
Jonah shrugged and muttered, “Okay.” He wasn’t sure if it was lingering timesickness or the inadequacy of eating nothing but pears for breakfast, but he felt light-headed and confused, his thoughts jumbled.
What if Chip and Alex aren’t ready to go? Jonah wondered. What did JB say to do, again?
“Come on,” Katherine said, tugging on his arm.
They stepped back out of the tent. They didn’t have to dodge any guards this time because the guards, like everyone else in sight, were clustered around Richard. He sat high above them on a tall horse, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, his crown perched on the helmet of his armor.
“Dismiss all fear,” Richard was telling his men, “and like valiant champions, advance your standards!”
Standards, Jonah remembered, were the flags that represented each leader on the battlefield. Far below, down the hill, Jonah could see a huge flag with a red dragon advancing across the field.
It was the flag of Henry Tudor, Richard’s enemy. Coming closer.
Richard glanced over his shoulder and apparently saw the dragon banner too.
“Everyone give but one sure stroke, and the day is ours!” he proclaimed. “Onward!”
Richard’s men cheered, and then they began rushing down the hill.
“That was the pregame pep talk, wasn’t it?” Katherine whispered.
“Sure,” Jonah said. “Same thing.”
But it wasn’t. Jonah had played lots of sports—soccer, basketball, even baseball for a few years—and he’d had coaches who really, really wanted to win. But they hadn’t been sending their players out to kill anyone.