‘It was not an act of war, since I am under the command of the King of England; an act against me is an act of rebellion and treason against my king,’ Richard says, his deep voice very strong and loud in the hall. The men stiffen at the note of absolute defiance. ‘And I warn you that anyone who lays a hand on me, on my son, or on my wife, is guilty of rebellion and treason and illegal assault. Anyone who harms my wife is, of course, not worthy of his spurs nor of his name. If you make war on a woman you are no better than a savage and should be thrown down like one. Your name will be defamed forever. I would pity a man who insulted my wife, a royal duchess and an heiress of the House of Luxembourg. Her name and her reputation must protect her wherever she goes. My son is under my protection and under hers, a loyal subject of an ordained king. We three are all loyal subjects of the king and should be free to go our own ways. I demand safe passage to England for the three of us. In the name of the King of England, I demand it.’

‘So much for the soft answer that turneth away wrath,’ Anthony says quietly to me. ‘So much for surrender and parole. My God, look at Salisbury’s face!’

The old earl looks likely to explode. ‘You!’ he bellows. ‘You dare to speak to me like this?’

The York lords are seated high on the dais and Richard to look up at them. They rise from their chairs and glower down at him. He is utterly unrepentant. He walks towards the stage, and stands, his hands on his hips. ‘Aye. Of course. Why not?’

‘You don’t even deserve to be in our company! You have no right even to speak without being spoken to. We are of the blood royal and you are a nobody.’

‘I am a peer of England and I have served under my king in France and Calais and England, and never disobeyed him or betrayed him,’ Richard says very loudly and clearly.

‘Unlike them,’ Anthony supplements gleefully to me.

‘You are an upstart nobody, the son of a groom of the household,’ Warwick shouts. ‘A nothing. You wouldn’t even be here if it was not for your marriage.’

‘The duchess demeaned herself,’ young Edward of March says. I see Anthony stiffen at the insult from a youth of his own age. ‘She lowered herself to you, and you raised yourself only by her. They say she is a witch who inspired you to the sin of lust.’

‘Before God, this is unbearable,’ Anthony swears. He plunges forwards and I snatch at his arm.

‘Don’t you dare move, or I will stab you myself!’ I say furiously. ‘Don’t you dare say a thing or do a thing. Stand still, boy!’

‘What?’

‘You are not fit to come among us,’ Salisbury says. ‘You are not fit to keep company.’