‘The King himself has sat in judgement over him. And found him innocent.’ Richard paces the hall of Baynard’s, while Cecily sits at table, rubbing a hand across the swell of her belly in a semblance of calm. ‘He is restored utterly, Constable of England, Captain of Calais …’

‘And you are plain old Duke of York again?’ She looks for anger in Richard’s grimace, and finds only shame.

‘And I suppose we must be thankful I am still that.’

‘Not for long. Beaufort won’t forgive you now. You’ll be lucky to keep your head on your shoulders.’

He sits beside her, takes her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I should have killed him when I could.’

She says nothing. What could she say except, yes, why didn’t you?

There’s more.

‘Henry Holland, too, is free,’ he tells her. ‘The King orders me to keep him in check. And to send our daughter to him, now she’s of age. He thinks she may settle him.’

She nods.

‘And your brother is no longer Chancellor. He is, as you will imagine, very angry.’

She massages the ache at her temples. ‘Then we must be thankful for small mercies.’ When she opens her eyes he is looking at her, puzzled. ‘It will keep him and his son on our side. Without them we’d be completely alone.’

When Richard is not invited to the next council meeting, nor Salisbury or his son, and their way to the King is barred, they know it’s time to leave the city; to get into country where they can call up men to fight, if they have to. And to stay together. They head north, to Neville strongholds.

On the day of departure, Cecily sends her children to Fotheringhay. All but Anne, who must go with Henry Holland.

The girl had not wept when Cecily told her, but her face had paled, and she’d sat very still beside her.

‘You’re lucky,’ Cecily told her. ‘You have a husband still in favour with his king.’

‘And I am, at least, taller than his dogs now. And more able to command them.’ She smiled then, and held her mother’s hand very tight.

‘I am proud of you.’ But there was shame as well as pride, which must be faced down.

She had sworn, when this child was in the womb, to break the bones of any who sought to harm her. Now she gives her into the hands of a man with a stick.

Two months in the North and they must move again.

The King has called Richard, Salisbury and Warwick, all three, to a Great Council in Leicester. It isn’t where they’re going. The meeting, they are told, will discuss the preservation of the King’s person. It seems more likely to bring about their own destruction.