Now George goaded his brother, sarcasm dripping like goose grease off greedy fingers. “Such the gallant lover, aren’t you? Anne must be loving her cold little cell at St. Martin’s while you sleep on a featherbed under a coney coverlet. At least she has no excuse to spend as much time on her knees as you do, O perfecte quidem pie hominem.”

George believed Richard’s Latin was as bad as it had been in the schoolroom, but Richard surprised him. “I am no ‘perfectly pious person,’ George. Pietate autem Diabolus esse melius quam,” he retorted. “And you are no better than a devil. Anne is safe, warm and cared for, which is more than can be said for her time at Coldharbour.”

Edward got to his feet surprisingly swiftly for one so large and bellowed, “Enough of this!” causing his new wolfhound pup to disappear under the chair. “I have had enough. You are both equally to blame that this dispute is now public gossip from Carlisle to Cornwall. You have become an embarrassment to me and to the crown, and we will have no more of it. You will both appear before my councilors here at Sheen in two days and put your arguments before them. Mark my words, you will abide by their ruling and this quarreling will stop.” He turned to Elizabeth and held out his hand. “Besides, your bad behavior upsets Bess at this precarious time. Come, my love, you are looking peaked. Perhaps you should rest and leave these tiresome young men to their incessant squabbling.”

The queen, heavy with her fifth child by Edward, allowed him to help her to her feet. She glared at George, and Richard was glad the venomous look was not aimed at him. He had long suspected Elizabeth blamed Clarence’s treason for the deaths of her father and brother following the battle of Edgecote, and she barely spoke to George when they were in private. That the Woodvilles wielded too much influence over Edward was the only issue Richard and George agreed upon, but for now it appeared they had nothing on their minds but dividing up the Warwick inheritance.

Elizabeth then demonstrated why she could be so dangerous. Just as the sun can transform in an instant the darkness cast by clouds, she transformed her sneer for George into an angelic smile for Richard. Startled, Richard had no idea why he had earned the queen’s favor. As he kissed her hand, she whispered: “I am on your side, my lord. I abhor George’s treatment of innocent Anne.”

In the end, and in front of Edward’s council, George gave in. But not before both brothers had dazzled the learned councilors and judges with their impassioned arguments. For every glib, affable and urbane remark of George’s, Richard impressed with his knowledge of the law and his logic: George’s heart pitted against Richard’s head.