“Young Master Arthur, please be seated.”

Arthur turned from the window, “My sister plays out on the lawn, Master Linacre… can I not also play in the sun?”

Thomas Linacre, physician to the king, and also a tutor to Prince Arthur, shook his head and heaved a great sigh, “My boy, you must remember your place and priorities - you are a prince and heir to the throne. One day you will be king, and we cannot have an unlearnéd man upon the throne, now, can we?”

“We can’t?”

“Certainly not, Master Arthur.”

Arthur sighed this time and reluctantly drew his eyes away from Margaret, outside on the green, before slinking back into the seat at his desk.

“Now, where were we…?” Thomas pondered to himself, looking up toward the ceiling as though it would aid his recollection.

“Do you think I’ll make a good king, Master Linacre?”

The physician exhaled again - the child was quite exasperating, “You will, Master Arthur, if you concentrate on your tuition.”

Arthur failed to take the hint, “I’ll be a great king,” he determined with a typical boyish audacity, “And all England will be proud of me, King Arthur, their brave and daring monarch!”

Linacre could not help but chuckle, “Oh, and in what field will you prove your ‘brave and daring‘ attributes, your grace? Your father has conveniently laid most of this country’s conflicts to rest. A king requires other merits rather than merely those of brawn in this new age… Your father will tell you that better than any.”

Arthur huffed, resting his head on his hand, “Well, I’ll still make sure I’m a good warrior… just in case. Then all of my enemies will be wary.”

“And a good warrior also requires a good brain,” Linacre pushed on before he slapped his hand down hard onto Arthur’s desk. The boy almost leapt from his skin, his gaze shooting back to his tutor, wide-eyed.

“Shall we continue?” Thomas smiled.

* * * * *

“My lessons seem to only get longer each time,” Arthur complained to his sister whilst he had a moment of liberty from his tuition; they sat in the garden, beneath a large willow tree, “Why don’t you have to be schooled, too, Marge? It seems so unfair that it‘s just me…”

“I’m never going to be king,” she replied, the wind playing at her light, auburn tresses, “And I’m a girl.”

“So?” Arthur shrugged, “I don’t see why you should be able to play whilst I have to learn.”

Margaret chuckled, “Oh, Arthur, I can’t play all of the time - at least you don’t have to learn to sew, or do needlework for the rest of your life!”

“Sometimes I think I’d rather sew…”

Margaret laughed again, getting to her feet, “You’re going to be king. Father knows what’s best for you.”

“And you too, it would seem.”

“You can’t be an uneducated king, Arthur.”

“That’s what Master Linacre said.”

“And he’s right.”

Arthur sighed, “I guess…” He slowly got to his feet and brushed off his fine clothes, “Maybe when I’m king, I’ll make my son learn useless things, too.”

“You will - it’s only natural,” Margaret nodded.