if anyone needs a new historical figure to obsess over
might i humbly suggest Lord John fucking Cheney
Lord John was kicking about in England during the time of the Wars of the Roses. He was a nobleman, solider, political figure, and all-round savvy customer.
oh. and he was 7ft tall. (that’s about 213.34 cm for you metric-lovers).
so let’s get into a little more detail. after several years’ of hoo-ha and fighting, Edward IV (of the House of York) is crowned King of England and you bet your stockings that our John was sitting in the front pew (presumably blocking the view for everyone else). And John was so Tight with the new king that Edward knighted him on the same day. nice one, John!
fast forward 20 years. Edward is dead (teary emoji) and Richard, his brother, (you know, Richard III, of “a horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse”, ‘oops i’m supposed to be caring for my young nephews, the heirs to the throne that i may or may not desire for myself, better lock them up in a tower and oops they’re lost oh well’, skeleton-recently-found-under-some-random-parking-lot fame) is King. now at some point Richard also knighted John, presumably to sweeten him up, because if you have a 7ft warrior on hand You Do Everything You Can To Keep Him. either way, it didn’t work. John, supported by the Duke of Buckingham, led a rebellion from Salisbury (where his remains are now interred in the cathedral).
the rebellion flopped.
But was John deterred? Nooooo! After brushing himself off a bit, he promptly hopped on a boat to Brittany, where he becomes rapid bffs with the exiled Henry Tudor (Lancastrian, later to be Henry VII). presumably, henry also looked John up and down and thought to himself ‘if you have a 7ft warrior on hand You Do Everything You Can To Keep Him’. John was made Henry’s personal bodyguard, where i imagine he mostly scared the shit out of anyone who looked at his new pal the wrong way.
AND IT WORKED.
this bitch, once again, picked the right side. Henry, along with his new bodyguard-and-portable-windbreaker, returns to England and, after some in-the-middle stuff, engages with Richard III’s army in the Battle of Bosworth. during the battle, John is knocked from his horse by the Crookback King himself - and, incidentally, the oNLY reason John was anywhere near his ex’s slimy brother was because the lancastrian standard bearer had fallen and John, in a characteristically balls-out move, had gone to retrieve it to maintain morale in the army (tremendously important). seriously, this guy had no chill whatsoever. he was nicknamed “the Vigorous Knight” (whatever that means...)
so Henry wins the Battle (and the throne of england) and our 7ft hunk of prime British beefcake gets his third knighthood from his third monarch. From here his life is basically set on an upward trajectory, and when he dies (at the extremely respectable age of 57 - it is the 15th C after all) he’s a Privy Councillor (aka One of the King’s Lads).
so to recap, Lord John Cheney is:
probably pretty charming when he wanted to be, since didn’t you have to be to get by in those days?
a skilled warrior, reported to be of “redoubtable strength” by his contemporaries
brave/heroic to boot, even though he presented a bigger target because of his ridiculous height (he was 7ft tall)
in possession of some epic swagger
more titled than the trinity college library
has had two (2) kings on his speeddial
was once a designated hostage of King Louis XI of France after the signing of a treaty between Louis and Edward (the treaty basically said you will fuck off and leave us alone, and i will take your friend here hostage until you do just that) (and you better bet our john and the Big L had some great chits and/or chats during that time like i’m shocked he didn’t come away with another knighthood)
could often be found moseying around head and shoulders above everyone else and probably bumping his head on stuff because he was 7FT FUCKING TALL at a time when most people were more than a foot shorter than that. i mean, have you ever seen a medieval doorway? This guy would have had some bruises.
absolutely 100% would be peak fodder for a gay af knightcore fanfic. i mean, he was the king’s personal bodyguard. come on.
in conclusion: i think we all know who the real king is here. John. Fucking. Cheney.