“You think God is punishing you? For what? You have led a God-fearing life ever since I have known you.” Francis pulled up a stool. “Fate has been cruel, I grant you, but you are no better nor worse than the next man, and you are a damn fine king.”

Richard looked at his friend and wondered if he could finally reveal his guilt for Henry’s death to someone other than his confessor. Nay, why should I burden Francis? Instead, he said: “Not good enough it seems,” and changed the subject. “Now, let us plot some merry-making.”

For the days leading up to Advent and on to Christmas, politics, conflicts and talk of invasion were set aside while Westminster readied for the most joyful, lavish yuletide season ever witnessed. Even Richard was seen smiling and laughing as Anne and his nieces paraded their gowns and King Arthur-themed masquerade costumes for him to admire. Pink roses began to color Anne’s cheeks once more and Richard knew he had been right. He was also pleased to see the friendship that was developing between his wife and nineteen-year-old Bess. Not only was his niece lovely, but Richard was struck by Bess’s extraordinary gentleness and warmth, unlike her unruly sister, Cecily, who was perhaps even comelier but whose boldness reminded him poignantly of Kate.

His first love had begun to creep into his thoughts of late since Anne had begged him to keep to his own bed while she coughed her nights away. It did not help his natural achings that Bess went out of her way to please him, calling to him to try a sweetmeat or asking his opinion on a new headdress. Richard wanted his nieces to feel safe and welcome in his household and thus he indulged them, and he felt gratitude to Bess in particular for her kindness to Anne. Unaware that the young woman, very ready for love, had developed an infatuation for him, he was too caught up in trying to lighten the dark days of winter for Anne to anticipate the difficulties of such an attraction.

When the day of the pageant arrived, the excitement in the palace corridors was palpable. At great expense, thousands of candles helped light the reception chambers and magnificent great hall, and the cooks spent days concocting elaborate dishes to put before King Arthur and his court, which at Richard’s command had been transformed into Camelot. Richard had had his tailor craft a costume the silver sleeves and leggings of which, visible under a richly decorated long tunic, cleverly resembled armor. An ermine collar on his purple velvet cloak masked his higher shoulder, and as Arthur he wore a high gold crown made of parchment in the style depicted in tapestries.

After knocking on his robing-chamber door, Anne entered to admire his costume. “Do you mind, my lord? I could not wait to see my noble Arthur.”