Peace

In reading the legitimate reviews of the King Richard III Visitor Centre, it struck me how many reviews mentioned the same word, or variations of it: "Peace."

"It is peaceful." "peaceful surroundings" "quiet" "respectful" "peaceful"

Peace. Peace. Peace. Peace.

PEACE 

Think on this for a moment. Such a simple word. Such a simple concept. And yet:

From the moment he was born, Richard III never knew peace. True peace, that is. Not just a cessation of war, but peace from strife, in-fighting, scheming. Not one day. Ever. No wonder he ground his teeth down.

Richard lived in a snake pit, surrounded by family & "friends" who continually plotted & schemed to get "The Next Big Thing" for themselves. (I'm looking at you, Kingmaker.) He died in the midst of battle, betrayed by others still plotting & scheming to get their own "Next Big Thing." (why, hello there, Stanleys, Buckingham, & Lady Grey)

For the thirty-two years of his life on Earth, he never knew a moment of true peace, when he didn't have to worry about what someone was planning or plotting to do when he wasn't watching. (GEORGE!)

So it's almost a shock to see reviews of a Visitor Centre devoted to Richard III repeatedly using the one word people would not logically associate with him: "Peace."

Shortly before the judges announced their decision, I was on the fence about where Richard III should be re-interred. It really didn't matter to me because my own choice, Westminster Abbey, was so far out of the running, it never made it to the starting gate.

And then I watched a Youtube video about Leicester, & I was so struck by a feeling of peace, I knew instantly what the right decision should be. And so it was.

Isn't it a good thing, then, that it is Leicester where Richard will finally get the one thing he never had in life? Peace.