“It was not a question of whether or not I liked Hastings, Ned. It was a question of high treason. He was a faithful friend to your father, ’tis true, but sometimes lying for one’s friends has larger consequences. There was more to the decision than that, however, but I will tell you all when you are older, and we have put this behind us.” Richard would not add to the boy’s burden now by implicating his mother in the plotting.

“I watched him die, you know,” Edward said, quietly. “He was very brave.”

Richard groaned inwardly. “If it is any consolation, Ned, I have honored Lord Hastings’ wish to be buried at Windsor near your father.”

“It is,” the boy replied, sadly. “They were such great friends.” He turned his back on Richard, and, with dignity, he said, “I would have you leave me now, my lord. I wish to be alone.”

“You must take the crown, Cousin,” Harry of Buckingham insisted at the next privy council meeting. “It is your right and the kingdom needs a king.”

How Richard had dreaded this moment. In truth, he had anticipated it, but he still was not prepared to think about wearing the crown. Anything he said now was likely to be whispered outside these walls and misinterpreted. Indeed, anything he did from now on would be recorded for posterity, and the burden was heavy.

He looked around at the expectant faces of the men he hoped he could trust and wondered if they thought he had planned it all. He decided to bury any speculations without delay. Rising, he announced, “I swear to you that I have never sought nor do I now seek the throne.” He paused, letting the faces register surprise or guilt. He was suddenly aware that he must sound exactly as his father had sounded when York had vehemently denied seeking the throne. Dear God, is this a case of the sins of the father…? Nay,’tis nothing of the sort, merely an extraordinary coincidence, he told himself. Putting those thoughts aside, he continued, “Those of you who know me well—Cousin Buckingham, Lord Howard, Sir Francis—can tell you this is true. Sweet Jesu,” he sighed, “how much simpler for all of us had my brother’s secret died with him.” The lords then heard a sincere desperation in his question: “Gentle lords and friends, is there no other way to solve this?”

Seeing Richard’s disquiet, Jack Howard stepped forward and laid a fatherly hand on Richard’s arm. “Who else is there, my lord? With the boys declared bastards, and Clarence’s son attainted through his father’s treason, you are next in the York line and the rightful heir.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” Buckingham quipped, but the jest flopped as flat as a cow’s turd, and the faces on the other councilors registered horror at his poor timing. Less shocked, Richard nevertheless glared at him. Sometimes he despaired of Harry’s judgment, and certainly his lack of tact. Had Edward been right not to give their cousin a position on his council? But Richard’s moment of doubt passed, and he let the gaffe go, unaware that later he would live to regret it.