When the temperatures plunged at night, most chose to enjoy the warmth provided by another body under the covers. Even so, it was awkward for Richard and George to share a bed again. Richard resented the drink-induced snoring of his older brother, which gave Richard restless nights that yuletide. His childhood nightmares even returned, and one night he shouted so loudly, George came out of a deep sleep to shake his brother awake.

“You must have evil thoughts to be thus inflicted by demons in your sleep,” George grumbled. “You know what they say: no peace for the wicked.”

“Go to the Devil yourself, George,” Richard snapped, wondering himself why his sleep was so disturbed, “and stop your snoring! ’Tis your conspiring with my lord of Warwick that gives me bad dreams.”

“Pah!” George rolled over and muttered grumpily, “Next time I shall simply let you thrash around in your sleep and hope whoever is chasing you, catches and silences you for good.”

Richard ignored him. George had said worse to him over the years, and he realized his brother was half asleep. Besides, he knew that nothing had been chasing him in the dream: it was some terrifying monster inside him who was trying to push his ribs through his back. In the dream his right side was growing more and more misshapen as the demon used Richard’s spine as a brace for its feet so it could thrust the ribs farther and farther out from under his shoulders. Richard shuddered and, as he had been doing for the past few weeks now, allowed his trembling fingers to feel his backbone; it was definitely crooked. Right in the middle of his back, he could feel where it turned sideways.

“Richard,” Rob had said to him one day in summer when all the squires had stripped naked and were refreshing themselves in Aysgarth Falls. “Is there anything wrong with your back?”

Richard had frowned. “Only a few twinges now and again after a long ride,” he admitted. “Why?”

Rob had thrown him his shirt. “Perhaps I am become too familiar, but your back looks askew. Perhaps you should find a mirror.”

Later, Richard had slipped into Anne and Isabel’s chamber where he knew there was a polished brass mirror and, locking the door behind him, had lifted his shirt and tried to see his reflection. Rob was right, it was hardly noticeable, but there was a slight list to his body. After that, he had tried hanging by his arms from a tree branch, had favored his left arm during wrestling, and focused on building up the muscles of his left side by doubling the weights he lifted.