‘Some said it was the blessed Trinity honouring Edward March. But why would Father, Son and Holy Ghost bless a rebe Some said it was him and his two living brothers, born to rise high.’

The queen looks at me. I shake my head and stay silent. I was hoping that I would see the season when the king would recover when I went out in that cold dawn and looked at the shine on the waters of the river. I was looking for the rising of my king but instead I saw three suns rising out of the mist and burning brightly.

‘What does it mean?’ The man asks the question in my direction, as if he expects me to know.

‘Nothing,’ my husband says stoutly. ‘It means that there was a bright dawn and you were all dazzled by fear.’ He turns back to the man. ‘I don’t want to know about visions, I want to know about a day’s march. If Edward brings his troop due west and marches as quick as he can, when d’you think they will get to London?’

The man thinks, he is so weary he cannot calculate the days. ‘A week? Three, four days?’ he asks. ‘He’s fast. He’s the fastest commander in battle I have ever seen. Could he be here tomorrow?’

* * *

That night my husband disappears from our camp, and comes back late, as the queen is about to retire. ‘Your Grace, I ask permission to bring a friend to join us.’

She rises. ‘Ah, Richard, you are a good man in my service. You brought me a great commander in Sir Andrew Trollope who won Ludford for us without raising his sword. Who do you have now?’

‘I have to have your oath that you will forgive him for former error,’ he says.

‘I forgive him,’ she says easily.

‘He is pardoned?’ Richard confirms.

‘He has a royal pardon. You have my word.’

‘Then, may I present Sir Henry Lovelace, who is proud to come to serve you,’ he says.

She extends her hand and Richard’s friend steps forwards, bows and kisses it. ‘You have not always been my friend, Sir Henry,’ she observes coolly.

‘I didn’t know then that York would try to take the crown,’ he says. ‘I joined him only to see the council well run. And now York is dead. I have joined you late: before your last battle and your final victory, I know. But I am proud to join you now.’

She smiles on him, she can still invoke that irresistible charm. ‘I am glad to have you in my service,’ she says. ‘And you will be well rewarded.’

‘Sir Henry says that Warwick is dug in around St Albans,’ my husband tells her. ‘We must defeat him before Edward March can come up and reinforce him.’

‘We’re not afraid of a boy of nineteen, are we? Andrew Trollope will command my army, with you, Lord Rivers. And we will attack at once, as you suggest.’