“Your father would have been pleased to see the man you have become, Richard, a man worthy to wear the crown. It has become clear to me since you became king that you are perhaps the best of our sons. You are certainly a better king than Edward and certainly a better man than George. Edmund had promise, so I cannot compare you with him, struck down so cruelly and so young as he was.” Cecily noticed how straight and tall Richard was standing now. “Your father would have been so proud of you.” She hesitated. “Until now. He would never have countenanced a scandalous rumor to have spread about his son and his granddaughter.” The very idea was abhorrent to her that she had to pause for breath. “You must rectify this matter now, Richard,” she commanded.

All the way to London, Cecily had been weighing how to threaten her son should he exhibit his usual stubbornness. “You must make a public denial of this vicious rumor,” she persisted, “or I will expose you as a liar.”

Richard was dumbfounded. “A liar?” he protested. “How could I be a liar if I have never even expressed a wish to wed Bess?”

“That is not the lie I am speaking of, my dear Richard,” she replied, deliberately inscrutable. When she purred, Cecily was at her most dangerous, and Richard knew he was about to be scratched. “Did you or did you not instruct Doctor Shaa to proclaim Edward a bastard at that infamous oration from Paul’s Cross?” Richard paled, but she continued. “Aye, that disgusting slander announcing to the world that I had cuckolded my husband—your father. You are the king—some say usurper—and thus you can say whatever you wish…” She saw the fleeting wince and pounced. “Ah, I see that you are not insensitive to others’ opinions of you. You do not like that word ‘usurper.’ Well, I don’t like the word ‘adulteress.’” Watching him avert his gaze, she pushed on. “Suppose I expose your lie? How many lords’ support do you think you might lose, most of whom have never had cause to doubt my word? You cannot afford to lose any, Richard, but if those lords believed you had lost my support, I wouldn’t like your chances.”

“It was Buck…” Richard tried to interrupt, but he was cut off.

“Do not pass the blame, my boy. You could have stopped Shaa there and then!” Seeing him sufficiently chastised, she softened. “It could be that all the good work you have done so far—and you have done good work, my son—will go down the garderobe chute.” She sighed but reiterated: “Deny the marriage rumors, Richard, and I shall return to Berkhamsted and resume my silence.”

Richard was dumbfounded. Perhaps he had never fully comprehended his mother’s intelligence and power all these years, yet he had observed before her strength and wisdom in a crisis. Cecily’s ploy was a master stroke, but he could not help being angered by it. “Well played, Mother,” he said, wearily, “It would seem you have me by the….”