‘That we should put your claim before them, in writing.’ It’s the first time George has spoken. ‘They want time to consider it. You know how this works, Richard. No man alone will say aye and make himself the Queen’s enemy. They must all be able to point to the man next to him and say, it was his idea.’

Richard nods and sighs. ‘Yes, I know. Then we will put our claim in writing, as they say.’

And so they set it down. That Richard is the rightful king, just as Bokenham has shown it, from the third Edward’s second son, through the women of his house. That the royal line was usurped by the current king’s grandfather, and rule of England has been out of joint since. That Richard is come to set it right.

Chancellor George takes the declaration to the lords in Parliament, who talk and talk, but can’t decide, and so put it to the King, who looks at them with his rheumy eyes and says he loves his cousin of York, but God gave him his crown and he’s not sure what man can take it from him. So they go from him to the justices, who suck their teeth and fold their arms, and say they cannot judge so high a matter that touches on the king’s estate. Last of all they call the royal attorney, who shrugs and says, ‘Well, if the justices can’t help you, I’m sure I cannot.’

So Parliament sends back questions to Richard. They complain of troubled consciences. ‘How can we make you king,’ they say, ‘when we have, to a man, sworn oaths of allegiance to Henry?’

‘Are they serious?’ asks Cecily. ‘Go back, George. Tell them their first allegiance is to God, and that God’s law makes Richard king.’

Still they prevaricate. They say, ‘But we’ve passed many acts confirming Henry’s right to the throne, and our fathers swore them to his father before him, and his. How can they be overturned?’

‘Easily,’ Cecily says. ‘Remind them the King’s grandfather was a usurper. If he was a true king he would have needed no Act of Parliament to make him so. And since he was not, no act can.’

‘Then why,’ and by now they’re desperate, ‘has the Duke of York not claimed his right before?’

‘God’s blood!’ says Cecily. ‘All these long years my lord has put off his claim for the sake of peace. Now the king’s weakness lays waste to the country. Should we not prevent that? Ask them, do they want to be ruled by a French queen?’

George nods, makes for the door and the long tread back to the chamber.

‘Wait,’ says Richard. ‘Tell them that the right, beyond any doubt, is mine. Tell them that right may rest a time and be silent, but it does not perish.’