He may have sounded glad, but Richard had learned not to let down his guard. He had been misled by his too-trusting nature so many times he could not find it in his heart to believe his clever sister-in-law did not have ulterior motives in this apparent reversal. After all, he reasoned, she would win either way—as a family member again at his court or, God forbid Henry Tudor did invade and take the crown, as mother of a queen.

He shivered. It was as though someone had walked over his grave.

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Summer 1485

Richard the king marched through the balmy days of May and June fulfilling his duty to defend his kingdom from the invader. Richard the man wafted through nightly mists of grief and bad dreams, sleeping fitfully and waking wearier than when he had put his head down the night before. His physician prescribed a potion of chamomile, hawthorn, and linden flowers, and it brought him some relief, although he wanted to ask the doctor if he had a cure for heartache.

At the end of May, he held his last council meeting in London and moved on to Windsor. Confident of an easy victory against any invasion, Richard had persuaded the merchants and Italian bankers in London to extend him loans to pay for a royal army. “Help me stamp out this arrogant canker once and for all,” he had persuaded them. “Henry will see who is rightful king of England.”

At the council meeting, he ordered Francis to depart for Southampton and organize its defenses; Jack Howard and his son, Thomas, were to return to East Anglia and await commissions of array; Brackenbury was to stay in London and keep it safe with the new artillery installed at the Tower; and his supporters, including Richard’s son-in-law in Wales, were told to remain vigilant.

“Only the northeast is doubtful,” Richard observed quietly to Chancellor John Russell. “Can I count on Stanley or will he and his brother risk splinters in their arses by sitting on the fence?”

Russell smiled at the imagery. “Lord Thomas has been a good member of your council and your trusted steward of the household, Your Grace, so why the concern now?”

“Because he and his brother—indeed his family—have always managed to end up on the winning side. If you notice, Thomas rarely makes an opinion contrary to the majority on the council. I also have good cause to be wary of his wife, as you know. It is impossible to believe he cannot be privy to any communication between her and her son.” Richard tapped his temple. “Nay, my lord bishop, I shall use my head this time and take Stanley and his son, Strange, with me to Nottingham. I want my eye on them.”

“Very wise, my liege,” Russell replied.

Nottingham.