“I accept with grateful pleasure, Your Grace,” he said, executing a flourishing bow. He beckoned to his squire and, unbuckling his sword in a gesture of conciliation, he turned his back on Richard and murmured a few words to the man as he handed over the weapon. Then, although feeling trapped, he followed the two dukes inside, satisfied they had accepted his explanation.

Supper was surprisingly jovial, with the landlord plying his important guests with the best wine in his cellar. The eloquent Buckingham parried with the erudite Rivers; Francis, Rob and Ratcliffe provided laughter and even a bawdy song. Richard sat quietly at the head of the table, playing with his food, chuckling at the jokes, and occasionally contributing a witticism. No one would have doubted the camaraderie among the diners. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Rivers rose somewhat unsteadily and declared he was for bed.

“God give you a good night, Anthony,” Richard said pleasantly.

“And t’you, Richard,” Anthony replied and laughed. “I shall shleep like a babe, but I ’spect my snores may d’sturb my fellow guests.”

Richard turned to Ratcliffe. “Go with him,” he murmured, “and see him safely housed and make sure he does not attempt to leave.”

Rivers was led away by Sir Richard and soon strains of a slurred “Summer is icumen” floated up from the courtyard. Waiting until the noise quietened, Richard deliberately removed the wine and cups from the table and made sure the door was firmly closed. Puzzled, Harry, Francis and Rob looked at him expectantly, their focus none too sharp either.

“I do not like our situation,” Richard declared. “Something is awry. For all he seems innocent—and drunk—enough, Rivers is concealing something from us.”

Rob shrugged. “He did not appear ill at ease to me. What can he be hiding?”

Forcing his head to clear, Harry leaned forward and thumped the table. Here was his chance to get back at the hated Woodvilles, who he believed had influenced Edward to keep him from the king’s council. “By the Virgin, you are right to be suspicious, cousin,” he menaced. “He is a Woodville, and not one of them is trustworthy. They remind me of Cerberus—many headed and ready to strike at any who disturb its hellish lair.”

“Anthony Woodville is known for his chivalrous deeds,” Francis retorted. “What was it he said that alarms you, my lord? He has always seemed the least ambitious of the family.”

Richard toyed with his ring. “His ability to mask his ambition is what makes him dangerous, Francis. My brother once told me that Anthony was one of the most intelligent men at his court. An astute politician, Edward said, and widely read. ’Twas why he chose Anthony to guide and govern his heir. I do not trust him.”

“Nor do I!” Harry blurted. “And if I were you, I would not allow him to come anywhere close to our young sovereign until we are safely installed at Westminster. We should stop him from leaving tomorrow.”