A wry smile lifted one side of the king’s mouth. ‘It might seem logical for the Duke of Somerset to hold the lands that pertain to his title but that would not work in the present political climate. I was content for him to assume the dukedom after his unfortunate brother died but if I grant him the lands as well, the Duke of York will find more cause to accuse me of favouritism. No, I wish my brothers to have them and they shall.’

It occurred to me that he would never have confided these thoughts had he not freely partaken of the Christmas spirit but I was certainly not going to argue with him. Being recognized as the king’s nearest relatives was likely to prove a costly business and any grant of extra funds was welcome.

A bold household knight appeared beside the queen’s throne and, with a deep bow, begged the favour of a dance, which she graciously conceded. Henry took the opportunity of her absence to suggest that he and I retire to his private chamber. ‘I have more to discuss with you about the Somerset wardship, Jasper. Send a message to Edmund to join us – and order more hippocras,’ he added, standing and signalling the alert heralds to lower their instantly raised trumpets. ‘We do not need a fanfare. Let the merrymaking continue without interruption.’

I collared a page to carry out the king’s orders and we made our exit from the great hall via the privy door at the back of the dais. A cloister and a stairway led to the royal apartments and King Henry walked there in silence, giving me an opportunity to ponder my extraordinary conversation with the queen. Had she actually hinted that in a desperate attempt to conceive an heir to the throne I might take her husband’s place in her bed, or had she made a cry for help of another kind? The first possibility appalled me. I had found little opportunity to sow wild oats, my life being governed in recent years by tutors and masters at arms, and had no reason to think that I would be any more successful at procreation than Henry. And, far more importantly, beautiful though Marguerite was, the very notion of cuckolding my brother went against every Christian principle those greybeard governors had been so careful to instil. I decided to cling to the idea that the queen’s true intention had been that I should use brotherly privilege and every ounce of tact I possessed to encourage Henry to try a little harder and certainly more often in the queen’s bed, if not for his own satisfaction, then for the benefit of the kingdom. As a waiting chamberlain threw open the door to the royal chamber I took a deep breath and made a vow to seize the moment, hoping Edmund would not arrive too soon and interrupt my efforts.