And then she is praying in earnest; for forgiveness, for humility, for a grateful heart. She brings her children to God, one by one, and begs protection. For her daughters, who are with her in Ireland. Margaret and Elizabeth, and little Anne, who came back hollow-eyed from Henry Holland when that wretch’s father died, but must go to him again when she’s of age. For this new babe, who has done no wrong and surely warrants her love. For Edward and Edmund, left behind in Ludlow with their own household now, their training begun in earnest, learning to be men. She sees Edward’s open face turned to his father as they crossed Ludford Bridge in the evening; feels the bold grasp of his hand about her fingers. And then, then her heart overflows and she prostrates herself among the candle flames, washed in love, contrite and thankful.

In the celebration after, that fearful moment is all but forgotten. The food is good, the wine better and the noise of many men, all vying for her husband’s attention, drowns out the musicians set to play for them. From his side, Cecily watches as Richard moves easily among the crowd, a word here, a hand on a shoulder there; acknowledgements that will matter, that will make a difference. Not a gesture wasted. But the most important moment of all they have planned together.

At the appointed time, after the meats are gone and before the confections and marchpanes are brought, she looks down the hall and sees Annette, handing the child to its godfathers, the Earls of Ormond and Desmond. For a moment they seem to fumble over which should have the honour of carrying him while the other walks beside him and waves. Ormond wins out. A trumpet sounds and a hush falls as they set out on their slow way. When they reach the dais, and lay their charge in its father’s arms, the child sets up a great cry.

Richard looks up, smiling, and a low thrum of laughter ripples down the hall. ‘Meet my strong-lunged son!’ he invites them. ‘We have named him for St George, the dragon slayer. He is a son of Ireland. Like his father he will live to be a strong defender of your rights and privileges here under God.’

The people’s cheers threaten the roof.

‘And under England’s king, of course,’ Richard adds more quietly.

Cecily smiles under his kiss.