I look at him blankly. ‘Richard, London has to admit the King and Queen of England.’

‘They won’t,’ he says flatly. ‘They have heard what it is like here. The merchants won’t have this army anywhere near their warehouses, shops and daughters, if they can possibly prevent it. It’s as simple as that. What you have to do is to see if you can get an agreement that they let the king and queen into Westminster Palace with their household, and feed and quarter the army outside.’

‘Why me? Why not the master of the queen’s household? Or the king’s confessor?’

His smile is bitter. ‘It is an honour for you, actually. The Londoners don’t trust anyone. Not anyone of her army or of the king’s advisors. They trust you because they remember you coming into London as the pretty duchess, all that long time ago. They remember you in the Tower when Jack Cade came in. They remember you at Sandwich when Warwick took you. They think they can trust you. And you can meet the Duchess of Buckingham there.’

He puts his arm around my waist and his mouth to my ear. ‘Can you do this, Jacquetta? If you can’t, say the word and we go back to Grafton.’

I lean against him for a moment. ‘I am sick of it,’ I say quietly. ‘I am sick of the fighting and I am sick of the death and I don’t think she can be trusted with the throne of England. I don’t know what to do. I thought of it all the way to Groby and all the way back again, and I don’t know what I think or where my duty lies. I can’t foresee the future and I can’t even say what we should do tomorrow.’

His face is grim. ‘This is my house,’ he says simply. ‘My father served the House of Lancaster and I have too. My son follows me. But this is hard on you, my love. If you want to go home you should go. The queen will have to release you. If London bars the gates on her, it is her own doing.’

‘Would they really lock her out of her own city?’

He nods. ‘She’s not loved, and her army is a terror.’

‘Did they ask for no-one else to speak for her?’

He smiles wryly. ‘Only the pretty duchess will do.’

‘Then I must do it,’ I decide reluctantly. ‘London has to admit the King and Queen of England. What will become of the country if they close the gates to their own king? We have won the battle, she is Queen of England, we have to be able to enter London.’

‘Can you go now?’ he asks. ‘For I imagine that Warwick has met up with his friend Edward March and they will be coming towards us. We should get the king and queen into the Tower of London and in possession of the City at once. Then they can parley or they can fight. But we have to hold the kingdom.’