There was a fraught silence when Margaret and I exchanged astonished glances, our eyes rolling at the distinct possibility that Henry was confusing Harri with Édouard. Did he actually believe the boy before him to be his own seventeen-year-old son? I considered it entirely possible. After all Harri was about the age Édouard had been when Henry had last seen him, before his mother took him to France for safety. It was quite likely that the years that had passed since had become blank to him, just as the traumatic events they contained had also been wiped from his memory. A swift glance about the room revealed that only a select few, closely gathered around the king, would have heard and construed his unfortunate remark, all of them ostensibly fiercely loyal Lancastrians. I made a mental note of their names with a view to seeking their pledge of silence and thanked the Almighty that the Earl of Warwick was not among them. The question of the succession was a tender subject within Warwick’s close affinity, especially for his son-in-law George of Clarence whose loyalty to Lancaster I considered threadbare, and whom Warwick had once encouraged to consider himself a successor to his brother Edward as king.

If Henry thought Harri was Édouard, was it also possible that he believed the woman kneeling before him was his wife, Queen Marguerite? Margaret must have come to this conclusion because after she had watched her son kiss the proffered ring and pledge his allegiance as he had been coached to do, she cast an eloquent glare at Sir Richard Tunstall, who gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement and leaned over to whisper something in his sovereign’s ear.

Henry looked up at him in surprise. ‘Mass? Is it Sext already? Oh yes indeed, Sir Richard, we must leave immediately.’

He instantly abandoned his throne and the two figures kneeling at his feet, almost stumbling over them in his haste to take his Chamberlain’s arm and shuffle on his square-toed shoes towards the privy door leading to the royal apartments and the chapel. Surplus courtiers bowed and backed away, making a passage for his exit and I hastened to make sure of the silence of those who had been standing close enough to notice the king’s confusion.

After the audience Sir Richard Tunstall entertained us to dinner in his chamberlain’s quarters and apologized for King Henry’s unfortunate error. ‘His grace’s state of mind is unpredictable,’ he admitted. ‘One moment he can appear alert and rational and the next he loses all recognition of where he is and who is with him. Although he recovered years ago from his complete collapse, he frequently displays a total failure of memory.’

‘Even so, can nothing be done to improve his appearance?’ I asked impatiently. ‘His mantle and his crown were far too large and surely his apparel should be pristine. What are his squires of the body doing for him?’