It makes for a miserable Christmas. They put on a show, invite men they hope to influence. Few of them come. Old Talbot does, though, bless him. Newly back from Rome, paying God with pilgrimage for his ransom from the French. He brings his wife, Margaret, who Cecily hasn’t seen since Rouen, and dark-eyed Eleanor, fifteen years old now and as fair as her father is ugly. She has a husband, twice her age and paying her little notice. Another soldier, cut from the old cloth. His father a friend to hers. Cecily watches her strike up a quiet friendship with her own daughter, Anne, who must go to her own disinterested husband soon enough. Perhaps they speak of their marriages.

‘Christ’s balls but Beaufort hates you, Richard.’ The old soldier has finally drunk enough of their good wine to say things he wouldn’t say sober. It’s Epiphany evening, a good time for truths to be revealed, Cecily supposes. The hall is half empty and the servants are clearing the boards. The children have long gone to bed, and even Eleanor has trailed sadly off after her husband.

Richard is sober as a stone. ‘I’ve no love for him. Nor had you or I for his brother. You know what they are, John.’

‘Bootless bastards both, and I hate one no less than the other. Look, none love Edmund Beaufort but those that live off him. But I call him friend because the King does. You know how it goes, Richard.’

‘I know. But mine is not the only voice raised against him.’

‘No, but it’s the only voice that matters. Who are the rest? Knights in the shires with their noses out of joint, sour-bellied soldiers, the hard-up home from France …’

‘They’ve had rough justice, John.’

His shrug says he knows this better than anyone. ‘Well, the world’s a rough place.’ He leans across the table, lays a meaty fist on Cecily’s arm. ‘Lady, tell your fool of a husband. While the King loves Edmund Beaufort he can’t afford to be his enemy.’

‘It’s good advice,’ she tells him. ‘But it comes too late. Besides, I’m Beaufort’s enemy, too.’ She smiles at Richard and he smiles back. The first time in a long time. ‘But we are loyal to the King, John. You must know that.’

‘Beaufort tells the King you intend to rise against him.’

‘He’s been saying so for over a year now, John.’ She spreads her hands. ‘Yet here we sit.’

He nods and frowns. ‘What do you want of me, Richard? I love you, but I’ll not stand against Beaufort for you, I’ve too strong a wish to keep my head on my shoulders.’

‘I don’t ask it.’ Richard is sudden and vehement. ‘Only make the King see I am loyal.’ He looks up from the table. ‘Is the Bishop of Hereford still here?’ he shouts. ‘Bishop Boulers?’