Eleven.

11

My oldest progenitor who’s surname I carry lived 

to age 73. He died while praying. Killed by stragglers

who fled the battle. Sometimes they’re referred to as 

cowards. While his son’s were fighting amongst them 

selves. Well, technically with their relations. Maybe.

Only two survived the battle. Then one murdered 

the other to become king. He ruled they say for fifty, 

forty and even twenty six years depending on the 

source. Some say he had no issue. But DNA, and 

some conjecture, tells a tale. At the end of his reign 

he repented. Then went to Rome to beg a pardon 

from the Pope. Died there instead. So I’m descended 

from the bad guy. The one we always vilified. 

Now ain’t that a kick in the nuts. 

Markle~

22Sept2020