“I know you are disappointed not to be granted a title, Dickon,” Edward said kindly, when Richard went down on one knee to his adored brother. Richard’s guilty expression made Edward smile. “Never fear, your turn will come, I promise.”

Richard daily imagined waking to find his new status as a royal prince was naught but a dream. He had yet to find a confidante he could trust. Everyone always seemed too busy for him.

Exciting though it was to be the brother of the king, he sometimes yearned for the less public life as a mere duke’s son. Boating on the Thames or fishing from its banks was fun, but now he was forever stared at by the curious villagers, and learning the names of Edward’s many councilors was as hard as any history lesson. But as he watched his charismatic brother win commoners and nobles effortlessly to his side, he felt increasing pride. Certainly it did not hurt that, at six feet and three inches, Edward stood half a head taller than most men and dominated a room with his golden good looks and charisma. But, truth be told, kindhearted young Richard did not give himself enough credit for attracting his own inner circle of pages, who liked him for his quiet humility and sense of fair play, whether practicing at tilting or archery, or by speaking up for them to their lords.

“He has Ned’s common touch,” Cecily remarked to Beatrice one day, as they watched the boys throw balls for Traveller, “although let us hope he does not forget he is first and foremost a royal prince. A pity he does not have a few more of Ned’s inches.”

“He is young yet, Your Grace. Wait and see; he will grow.”

“The poor boy always seems to be in George’s shadow,” Cecily mused, as George snatched Richard’s ball and threw it twice as far as his brother could.

It was during those idyllic summer days that Richard was enthusiastically initiated into the hunt, thrilling to his first sight of a wild boar bravely staving off attacks by the baying, snarling hounds. The animal, though dying of several well aimed arrows, was possessed with a will to charge his antagonist in one last desperate attempt to avoid death. True to its reputation, the beast’s razor sharp tusks impaled one of the dogs and sent it flying into the air close to where Richard watched wide-eyed. The boar was finally defeated by a sword thrust through its heart. Despite his churning stomach, the boy experienced a rush of excitement, and he was forever captivated by the noble sport.

“How did you enjoy your first hunt, Lord Richard?” Will Hastings, Edward’s newly appointed lord chamberlain, had sidled his horse next to the boy, noticing how well Richard sat his horse.

Richard nodded his head vigorously. “Very much, my lord.”