The specter of the Towton battlefield clung to Richard as they approached York, the massive Minster dedicated to St. Peter dominating the skyline behind the gleaming city walls that, for two miles, encircled the castle, town, and its many churches. He had often passed under the Micklegate during his time in the north, but today, he could not help but look up at the barbican and imagine his father’s bloody head, mockingly crowned with paper, atop a spike. He crossed himself and offered up a prayer for his namesake, whose face had all but faded from his memory. He only remembered the voice, the kindness with which he would speak to his youngest son, and his loud, neighing laugh. “Loyalty above all else should be your watchword,” Richard could hear his father say now. “Most of all to family, king, and God.” Aye, Father, but at what cost?

“We have time to make confession at St. Peter’s,” Richard suddenly decided. Rob, sensible to his friend’s mood since leaving the battlefield site, had refrained from speaking along the way. Now he bowed his head respectfully. “As you wish, my lord.” It was time he atoned for the maid he had enjoyed during their brief stay in London anyway, Rob admitted to himself.

“Father forgive me for I have sinned,” Richard began the rote prayer to the shadowy figure on the other side of the grille. The detour had been a spontaneous decision brought on by a jumble of guilty thoughts of the thousands of deaths his father’s fight for the crown had wrought; his disloyal censure of his brother’s failure to bring about peace and justice to the kingdom since winning that crown; and the knowledge that he was about to spy on the man who had treated him like a son for the past three years. So many problems to worry about, none of which was in his control to change. At these moments, only God could alleviate his anxiety.

“Bless you, my son. Confess, and your sins shall be forgiven.”

But when Richard opened his mouth, the previous thoughts were pushed aside as he surprised even himself with his guilty admission.

“I have lusted after another man’s wife.” Surely that was not his feeble voice? “I covet my neighbor’s wife.”