Richard’s charge was only twelve years of age, and, although Prince Edward was said to be “ripe beyond his years,” he was a minor. Having spent the best part of the last six years at Ludlow, under the governance of another uncle—Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers—young Edward had not much been in Richard’s company. Richard knew the younger boy, another Richard, better and appreciated the mischievous lad’s merry temperament. “My mother says he reminds her of Ned at that age,” Richard had told Elizabeth once, in a rare intimate moment.

When the shock of his brother’s untimely death had abated, Richard found himself irked that the king’s council had not formally sent him a message about the king’s passing and his appointment as protector. At this point in time, however, he had no reason to suspect it was a calculated omission and, knowing the funeral would be long over before he could arrive for it, he tarried in the north long enough to hold obsequies for his brother in York Minster.

The consequences of this delay changed everything for Richard.

For now, Richard took Hastings at his word—after all Will had been Edward’s closest friend and advisor—and so he had accepted that he, Richard, was the logical choice for protector. As such, he immediately wrote to Rivers at Ludlow, pledging his allegiance to young Edward and requesting their itinerary and route for London. The king and I should meet at Northampton and enter London together on the thirtieth day of the month, Richard instructed Rivers. He had then written a sympathetic note to Elizabeth on her loss and again pledged to protect the crown for her son.

“Should you not go immediately to London and make sure your position is recognized,” Rob asked him. “Why have you not had a formal appointment from the council?”

Richard shrugged. “Perhaps they have been preoccupied with laying Edward to rest with appropriate respect and ceremony. As soon as I have honored my brother at York and required all the northern barons to swear an oath of fealty to my nephew, I will make my way to London.”

“Rob is right,” Francis chimed in. The two friends were used to speaking their minds to Richard. “You should not delay. I fear the Woodvilles will take control of the government—they and their adherents are in the majority in London. You don’t know what they are planning.”

“Planning?” Richard asked, irritated now and anxiety rising. “What would they be planning, pray? A coronation no doubt, but they would not dare organize that without me. Away with your fear-mongering, my friends,” he countered, but, seeing their chagrin, he relented. “As you will. I shall write to the council that I know of Edward’s last wishes and will dutifully take up my appointment when I reach London. Does that reassure you?”

His two friends exchanged worried glances but murmured their acceptance.