Slowly, I walk to where the track goes through the little village of Mucklestone, and wait for the first York lords to ride in.

* * *

It grows dark. In the distance at Blore Heath I hear a cannon shot, and then another, slowly through the night. I wonder that they can see anything to fire upon. Groups of men come by, some of them supporting their wounded companions, some of them with their heads down, running as if from fear itself. I shrink back inside the forge and they don’t see me as they go by. They don’t even stop to ask for drink or food, all the windows and doors in the village are barred to all soldiers – whatever badge they wear. When I see a Lancaster badge I step out into the lane. ‘Lord Rivers? Sir Anthony Woodville? Sir John Grey?’ I ask.

The man shakes his head. ‘Were they on horses? They’ll be dead, missus.’

I make myself stand, though my knees are weak beneath me. I lean against the door of the forge and wonder what I should do, alone at a battlefield, and if Richard is dead out there, and my son, and my son-in-law. I wonder if I should go out to the heath and look for Richard’s body. I cannot believe I would not know of his death. I would surely sense it, when I was so close to the battle that I could even see the churning of the stream where he might have drowned?

‘Here,’ the blacksmith says kindly, coming out of his little cottage to put a dirty mug in my hand. ‘What are you going to do, lady?’

I shake my head. There is no pursuing force to misdirect, the York men are not coming through this way, just the broken remnants of our army. I fear that my husband is dead but I don’t know where to look for him. I am weak with fear and with a sense of my own lack of heroism. ‘I don’t know,’ I say. I feel utterly lost. The last time I was lost and alone was in the forest when I was a girl in France, and Richard came for me then. I cannot believe that Richard will not come for me now.

‘Better come in with us,’ the blacksmith says. ‘Can’t stay out here all night. And you can’t go to the battlefield, my lady, there are thieves working the place, and they’d stab you as soon as look at you. You’d better come in with us.’

I shrug, I don’t know what I should do. There is no point standing in the street if no-one is going to come past me to ask where the queen has gone. I have done my duty by hurrying her away, I don’t need to stand out till dawn. I duck my head under the narrow doorway of the cottage and step into the small dark earth-floored room and the stench of five people sleeping, cooking, eating and pissing in the same space.