The priest allowed himself an indulgent smile. He had seen the serious young man on his knees in front of an alabaster figure of the Virgin Mary, and Richard’s very youth led the cleric to believe the lad had not yet seen enough of life to have sinned too greatly. He wanted to simply tell his supplicant that all boys of his age lusted—usually after an older woman who was inaccessible—and it was perfectly natural. But his faith and responsibility as confessor instead gave the stock pronouncement: “You must resist temptation, my child, and turn towards the Lord our God for temperance. He will guide you from the path of sin and one day He will bless your marriage bed. Fornication is a mortal sin, as I am sure you know.”

“I do, Father. How can I atone for my transgression?”

“Remember the scriptures: He that hideth his sins shall not prosper, but he that shall confess and forsake them shall obtain mercy. If you are truly penitent, by the power invested in me, I can forgive you.”

“O God, be merciful to me the sinner,” Richard muttered, and after receiving his penance, he thanked the good father and returned to kneel in front of the Virgin. Being in God’s presence never failed to move Richard and restore order. Thus, he resolved to put Katherine Haute from his mind.

It would prove an impossible task.

During the hour Richard and Rob had tarried at the Minster, a small group of armed men in the king’s livery must have overtaken them, as Richard’s meinie soon caught them up on the road to Sheriff Hutton. Observing that one soldier was leading a horse on which a sorry-looking fellow sat with wrists bound and tied to his pommel, Richard slowed his group and rode forward.

“Good day, captain,” he addressed the lead rider. “I am Richard of Gloucester, the king’s brother. May I know your destination and the prisoner’s crime?”

The captain thumped his chest with his fist. “God’s greeting, my lord duke. I am taking this measle to my lord of Warwick on command of our gracious sovereign lord, the king. As for his crime, I regret I am ignorant.” He slapped his saddlebag. “I have letters from his grace to the earl.”

Richard rode closer to the scruffy, terrified prisoner. Judging from the broken nose, black eye and split lip, Edward had had the man roughed over for information.

“I’ve been wrongly accused, my lord,” the man objected. “I was just a messenger.”

“No doubt,” Richard said, skeptically. “But I will know your business shortly and judge for myself. If you are innocent, you will find Lord Warwick a fair-minded man.”