* * *

Our retreat to Grafton lasts only for a little while. In September the king’s messenger rides down the green lanes and up to our front gates. The wide wooden doors swing open and he comes across the courtyard, the royal standard before him, a guard of six riding with him. I am walking back from chapel in the morning, and I pause as I see the gate admit him and I wait, my back to the door of our house, with a sense of danger coming our way. Behind my back I cross my fingers, as if a childish sign can prevent trouble.

‘A message for Baron Rivers,’ he says, dismounting and bowing.

‘I am the Dowager Duchess, Lady Rivers,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘You can give it to me.’

He hesitates. ‘My husband is hunting,’ I continue. ‘He will be back tomorrow. In his absence I rule here. You had better give the message to me.’

‘I beg your pardon, Your Grace,’ he says and hands it over. The royal seal is shiny and hard. I break it, and look up to nod to him.

‘You will find ale and bread and meat for you and your men in the hall,’ I tell him. ‘And someone will show you where to wash. I will read this and send a reply when you have eaten and rested.’

He bows again and the guards give their horses to the stable boys and go into the house. I wait and then walk slowly to a stone bench let into the wall at the side of the garden and sit in the warm sunshine to read the letter.

It is a letter of appointment, another great honour for us. It is an acknowledgement of Richard’s service in the late troubles, it shows that the lords of the Privy Council were watching to see who was quick of mind and brave of heart and ready to serve them – even if the king and queen had run away to Kenilworth and saw nothing. It says that Richard is appointed as Seneschal of Gascony, the rich land around Bordeaux that the English have held for three hundred years and hope to hold forever. Once again, Richard and I are to be an occupying force in France. Reading through the lines I guess that the king, shocked by the loss of English lands in Normandy by Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, is inspired to fortify the lands in Gascony with a more experienced commander. This appointment is an honour, it will bring with it the danger and difficulty of strengthening the forces around Bordeaux, holding the lands against French incursions, keeping the people loyal to England, and reversing their sense that they are all but abandoned by a homeland which cannot rule itself, let alone maintain lands overseas.

I look up from the letter. It is grief which makes me feel that nothing matters. I know this is a great honour, to rule Gascony is a great command. The Rivers are rising, even if one of us is missing. And there is no point in letting my heart ache for the one who is missing.