Just when Cecily thinks her nerves will be worn away by it, Marguerite herself steps in to help. She has, indeed, not been idle in Windsor. Between nursing her son and tending her husband she’s found time to formulate a case. In the days after Christmas she sends John Kemp to present it to the council. Kemp is Chancellor and cardinal too. A politician with God on his side, who loves his king, owes his high office to Beaufort’s influence and, at eighty, is too stubborn or too old to trim the sails of his allegiance. The Queen, he tells them in a voice that’s used to being listened to, claims her right to rule as regent: for her husband, until he is recovered, or for her son, till he comes of age.

‘Tell them,’ says Cecily, when Richard reports to her the council’s shock and fluster, ‘that if they want to be ruled by a Frenchwoman with Beaufort at her side, then by all means …’

By no means, obviously. A Parliament is called and Richard put at its head with authority, and the council’s backing, to refute the Queen’s claim. A month later, when Kemp is found dead in his bed and the way is clear, he is offered the role of Protector.

‘Tell them you can’t accept,’ says Cecily.

So he explains to them, humbly and in writing, that he fears himself unworthy, and will take up the role only at their insistence. He looks to the peerage of England to exercise the King’s authority in this matter.

They insist.

‘Ask them to clarify their terms.’

They do. He is to be head of the King’s Council. More even than Regent, he is to assume personal authority for the rule and defence of England, against enemies overseas and rebels at home.

‘Rebels at home. Good,’ says Cecily. ‘Now no one can move against us. And, if the King ever wakes up and asks, “Who made you Protector?” you need only point the finger and say, “They did.”’

Richard rules the kingdom as he ruled France and Ireland; by putting men into roles who are fit for the job and by giving good men reason to be loyal. And by paying his debts. Warwick’s land dispute is made to disappear. Salisbury is given dead Kemp’s chancellorship, and Richard summons the Percys down from the North to account for themselves. When news comes that they’re gathering men and have made common cause against him with Henry Holland, he rides north himself to knock heads together. It’s quickly done. Holland has no more sense than his dogs, all bark and no bite. Richard locks him up and leaves him to stew. Henry Percy, though, could raise an army if he put his mind to it. Richard slaps his wrists and placates him with a seat on the council.

Thank God, people say. Here’s a man who knows how the world works.