Richard wrote furiously to his friends on the York city council urging them to apprehend the bearers of false rumors for divers seditious and evil-disposed persons enforce themselves daily to sow seeds of noise against our person…to abuse the multitude of our subjects and avert their minds from us…

In the quiet evenings now spent alone, Richard’s spirit flagged. He was losing the will to fight for his throne. “Without a wife, without an heir, what is the use?” he muttered into his wine one fine April evening, pushing away a half-eaten mutton pie. The news from France was also not good: Henry was gathering friends among the new king’s courtiers. Together with Oxford; the exiled, wily bishop, John Morton; Dorset; and Henry’s uncle, the troublesome Jasper Tudor, he had convinced the new French king to lend him support for an invasion.

A knock on the door jarred Richard from his reverie and he slurred, “Come in.” It was Rob Percy, back from his estates in Yorkshire, where he had been commissioning troops. All up and down England, Richard had sent out commissions of array, and he had resurrected the beacon system of alarms that had worked so well for Edward.

“Your Grace,” Rob began, going down on one knee. Richard waved him into a chair. “We have just had news from Calais. The queen’s…I mean Dame Grey’s son Dorset has forsaken Tudor and attempted to return to beg that he be readmitted to court.”

“You astonish me, Rob,” Richard said, attempting to clear the wine fog from his brain. “Is he here now? I am glad to hear it, but I cannot say I trust him.”

“Unfortunately, he got no further than Compiègne before being apprehended. Henry has him well guarded I have no doubt.”

Richard drummed his fingers on the table. “Why now? Perhaps Henry has lost favor with the French king, and Dorset…”

Rob shook his disheveled head. Richard loved that his old friend had never adopted the Londoners’ fussy fashions. “Nay, it is simpler than that. It would seem your inviting Elizabeth to return to court, coupled with the decisive way you quelled the ugly rumor about her daughter, has prompted her to urge Dorset to return and make his peace with you. It will be a blow to Henry’s ego if he thinks Elizabeth has withdrawn her support for his betrothal to Bess to side with you.”

Richard felt as though some weight had been lifted from him. If Elizabeth has eased her mind about me, then she cannot believe I murdered her boys, he thought. “This is good news,” he agreed, “the first in a long time.”