It was then Richard caught sight of a young man bent almost double over a crutch. His back was misshapen and his face twisted in pain. Richard noticed he was shunned by the rest of the villagers, and understanding that the Devil must have somehow touched the poor cripple, he crossed himself. He shifted in his saddle, his own back acknowledging the same dull ache that was becoming his constant companion. He vowed to double his prayers every night so that whatever was causing his discomfort never reached the level of this poor fellow’s malady. He threw the man a coin and spurred on his horse.

“I am too busy putting down rebellions to worry about changing laws for the peasantry.” Edward was condescending, dismissing Richard’s plea and stinging the youth. “Mayhap you do not realize that my arse is not yet safe upon the throne, little brother. When I know my enemies are truly vanquished, I can look at the law.” He took up his cup and swallowed the tawny contents.

Taciturn, Richard bowed his head and went to stare out of the window at the boatmen ferrying passengers back and forth across the Thames. He had been so full of righteous indignation when he arrived and sure that Edward would ease his people’s lot, he could not now conceal his disappointment that his brother had not been moved by his example of injustice and sworn to act then and there. He would not dare suggest to this imposing king—brother or no—that perhaps it was precisely because Edward’s subjects were unjustly treated by the law that they were rebelling. Could Edward not see that correlation for himself? But Richard was not king, and, young as he was, he could not imagine the weight of responsibility that hung on Edward’s shoulders, however brawny.

The king fingered one of the pea-sized pearl buttons on his jacket and contemplated his young brother’s back. Such an enigma, he thought, and though he had brushed aside Richard’s ardent plea, he did admire that ardor. He coaxed the dejected Richard to face him.

“Do not think I did not hear you, brother. I did—and I do. But I am certain you are curious about my summons, are you not?” He was pleased to see Richard turn, his expression eased. “Let me be plain. I have called you south on your own to ask what you can tell me about my lord of Warwick’s plans. He removed himself from London so quickly, I suspected he was fomenting a rebellion of his own.” Edward grinned. “I am jesting, in truth. ’Tis not that bad, I trust?” But the lack of an immediate response claimed Edward’s attention. “Is it that bad?”