“I hope you are right, Anne, because when I have to tell Edward he cannot be king, I do not want him to look on me as a monster.”

“Not if you choose your words kindly and truthfully. Imagine you are speaking to Ned.”

With the younger prince safely under his protection, Richard could procrastinate no longer and called another meeting of the full council to inform them of Stillington’s staggering news. He could almost feel Edward’s looming presence over him as he explained his brother’s misjudgment. For the first time since embarking on the difficult task of overseeing the government, Richard felt disloyal to his brother’s dying command to protect the crown for young Edward. His only consolation was that not telling the truth would betray his fellow Englishmen. He tried not to be judgmental, but he did despair of his brother’s foolishness. “When the prick goes hard, the brain goes soft,” Warwick had told him once when the earl was railing against Edward during those early days at Middleham. Edward’s brain had gone soft during much of his scant forty years, Richard lamented.

“My lord Bishop, I pray you tell your colleagues exactly what you told me.” Richard left the dais and approached Stillington, who had hoped to avoid directly addressing the council. The cleric’s right hand nervously grasped the large silver cross around his neck as if to ward off any verbal attacks, but Richard believed the gesture served to sanctify Stillington’s oath.

“So it would appear the children of the late king and his queen are bastards,” the bishop finished. As expressions of disbelief began to supersede the initial openmouthed reaction to the momentous news, he flushed and stepped back.

Again, suspicious glances were sent Richard’s way, but before any questions were asked of him or Stillington, He returned to sit down on the same throne his father had so unwisely touched in his bid for the crown all those years ago. “I leave it to you, gentlemen, to draw your conclusions.”

Pandemonium broke out around him as the twenty or so members each jockeyed for his opinion to be heard. Finally, Buckingham marched into the center of the room and cried, “For heaven’s sake, my lords, you are behaving like spoiled children. Let us debate the issue in more discreet tones as befits a royal council.”

If the moment had not been so tense, Richard might have smiled. His cousin’s bulk and loud voice could certainly claim attention, but then Harry could also woo a treasure from a reluctant merchant with his silver prose. Let Harry lead the debate, he thought, listening intently but saying nothing until Harry said: “It would seem we are all agreed that we do not have a king to crown. I propose we cancel the coronation.”

“I second that.” Richard had not meant to speak, but his exhaustion made him careless.