And so the story comes out. Of how the King, arriving at his royal palace of Clarendon, fell senseless to the floor and did not rise. Not couldn’t. Not wouldn’t. Just didn’t. Since then he’s not spoken, knows no one, notices nothing. Only smiles sometimes at things he alone seems to see and weeps on occasion, silently and without cause.

‘And you know this for fact, brother?’

‘Seen it with my own eyes. The Queen’s brought him back to Westminster. They’re trying to keep it quiet. She is, I mean. And Beaufort, Chancellor Kemp. But it’s been a month now and he’s no better. You can’t run a country without a king. Even a bad one. The council’s paralysed. There has to be a protector, Richard. If it isn’t you, it’ll be Beaufort. Then we’ll all be damned.’

Richard walks slow across the room to take a seat between them. His face is blank. ‘There’s been a choice to be made between Beaufort and me these three years past. I’ve heard precious few voices raised in my favour. Why now? Why yours?’

‘Dear God, Richard. Do you know where the King was on his way to when he fell out of the world?’ Richard shrugs. ‘To join Edmund Beaufort, laying siege to my son at Cardiff Castle. Beaufort’s scuttled back to the Queen’s side now, of course, but his men are still there.’

Cecily smiles. This is what she’s been waiting for and had almost given up hope of. ‘So Beaufort’s coming after the Warwick inheritance then?’

‘Aye. And the King, before he lost his wits, said let him have it.’

‘The Queen did, you mean.’

His turn to shrug. ‘Aye. The Queen. And there’ll be no curb on her will now.’

Cecily looks across the table to Richard. He’s leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed. The old ruby glints as his long index finger strokes across his lip. He sees her watching and raises a brow, then he pushes forward, nets his hands upon the table and looks hard at his brother-in-law. ‘And then there’s your own long dispute with the Percys,’ he says.

There’s been a balance of power in the North for decades. Neville and Percy. The East and West Marches. Opposing power bases held in tension by royal will. Now Beaufort’s showing favour to the other side. It’s made them bold. There’ve been incursions into Neville lands. Escalating threats from Northumberland and his hot-headed sons.

‘I don’t suppose King or Queen would help you there, either.’

Salisbury stretches his neck, grimaces. ‘Sure they would not.’

‘And you think I will?’

‘In return for my support in this.’

Richard smiles, wolfish. ‘Well. It’s always good to know what the trade is.’

‘So get yourself to London then.’