‘Yes, yes.’ Louis rubbed his hands. ‘Edward is back on the throne, he has generously forgiven his brother Clarence and the Earl of Warwick for rebelling against him and now he has made his other brother Gloucester, Constable of England. The situation is ripening nicely, ready for us to pounce!’

This was news indeed but his was not the way I would have looked at it. ‘If you say so, sire. I cannot see it myself.’

He wagged a majestic finger at me. ‘Ah, but you see only the obvious and do not detect the undercurrents. Warwick tried and failed to depose Edward and put Clarence on the throne, yes? He held Edward prisoner and executed his favourites, the Woodvilles, father and brother, yes? And yet Edward does not cut off Warwick’s head in retaliation, as you might expect, but instead makes Gloucester, his youngest brother, Constable of England, in charge of defending his kingdom, though a mere boy of seventeen. What does that say to the world?’ Louis lowered his voice and spoke into my ear. ‘It says that Warwick and Clarence are finished. Edward fears them about as much as two drunks at a Midsummer revel. That he considers them not worth his trust and not even worth executing.’

Louis patted my cheek and moved away, face aglow, magnificent rings flashing in the blaze of a twenty-candle chandelier as he made his next pronouncement. ‘The Earl of Warwick is a man with an overblown opinion of himself.’

And he is not the only one, I thought. Keeping my face straight while Louis continued his polemic was not easy.

‘That fact has not changed. He will not stomach further disparagement by the king he once considered his puppet. He will not tolerate being outranked by the boy Richard of Gloucester. Believe me, it will not be long before Warwick and Clarence return to the fray and however great Lord Warwick thinks himself, he still needs allies. I predict that he will be knocking at my door within weeks.’ In his element, the king’s smile was smug.

I responded with an upward twist of my eyebrow. ‘And how will you react, your grace?’

I could swear that Louis’s long, warty Valois nose actually twitched, but he stilled it by laying his forefinger against it, gazing at me through narrowed bloodshot eyes. ‘I will send him to Queen Marguerite.’

I blew air noisily from my cheeks. ‘I would suggest that you prepare the ground first, sire, or she will never receive him. There is no love between those two.’