“Remember George?” Richard had warned Edward at Fotheringhay a month earlier. Albany had signed a pact with Edward that Scotland would support England against any threat from France, if Edward put Albany on the throne of Scotland. “Another ambitious, perfidious brother, if you ask me. If you are worried about James being manipulated by Louis of France, why not simply show him you are serious with a proper campaign over the border. I have the troops, let me do the job.”

“You may lord it over the north, Richard, but you may not lord it over your king,” Edward had snapped back, surprising Richard with his vehemence. “James broke his truce in ’81 and his raids into Northumbria grow more daring and troublesome. Putting Albany on James’s throne will put paid to Louis web-spinning, and I can concentrate on my unhappy subjects.” He gave a long sigh. “I weary of governing them. We have had eleven years of peace in this kingdom. Can they not be satisfied with that?”

And although Richard would have dearly loved to give his brother some reasons why his starving people were unhappy, he had acquiesced in taking Albany with him into the borderlands. England and Scotland were many centuries away from uniting; even the Romans had failed to join the two peoples and had had to construct an impressive wall to achieve a semblance of peace.

Richard refocused on the town in front of him, not relishing the task of attacking the innocent resident English citizens in order to storm the castle on the hill. Northumberland raised an eyebrow and addressed his commander-in-chief. “What now, my lord duke?”

Before Richard could answer, the town gates swung open to allow a contingent of town elders to emerge. He frowned. He had anticipated the Scottish defenders would man the town walls and at least put up a fight. It seemed it was not to be, for in a very few moments the mayor of Berwick fell on his knees in front of Richard and explained the town was surrendering. “Mayor Holtham, if it please you, m’lord,” he introduced himself, in his broad northern accent. “It is gradely to see you.” He was in awe at the mass of fully armed men swarming the meadows before the town. “It seems all the soldiers living amoong us have been summoned to defend the castle. Those boggin’ oat-eaters had nae stomach for a fight once they saw your noomber. Canna say I blame ’em,” he said, showing gaps in his gums as he grinned.

But Richard was all business. “What food supply is there, Mayor? I can pay a fair price.”

Holtham lifted his shoulders and spread his hands. “Nowt, my lord. Our people are starving.”