Stanley sighed. “I understand. It is my wife, is it not? Very well, I will take my leave and prove my loyalty to you by bringing a sizable force whenever you summon me.”

“I hope that you do, Thomas. Your son’s life depends upon it.”

Lord Strange suppressed a gasp, but Richard was gratified to see Stanley’s hand waver as he fumbled his hat to his head before bowing stiffly.

It was then that Richard called for the Great Seal to be brought to him from London and under it, he issued a proclamation calling all to resist the man Henry Tudor, earl of Richmond, who is descended of bastard blood and claims the royal estate of this realm where he has no interest, right or colour. It denounced all who would support him or other divers rebels and traitors.

Richard prayed he had won his people’s trust and that they would honor this decree. Unfortunately, the people were tired of war and even more tired of the barons who fought it, and they still did not entirely believe that Richard’s path to the crown had been innocently paved. His people were not privy to Richard’s inborn sense of duty, however. He would never betray England’s trust, although there were many who still could not trust him.

Perhaps an invasion would not come. That hopeful thought hovered in Richard’s mind as the first torrid days of August slunk by without news. He vacillated between wanting to give up the crown that should not have been his in the first place and the desire to prove that it was. In the latter mood, he prayed for battle with Richmond in which he would demonstrate his prowess as a military commander and dispense with the invader.

“I would rather die in battle as king of England than lose the crown and live,” he confided to Rob one day when he was being fitted for a new cuirass. Having assessed the increased curve in Richard’s back, Signore Vicente had tactfully suggested a few months earlier that Richard’s old armor had been irreparable after the Scottish campaign and that he needed to craft new harness. Richard now praised the faithful craftsman for his meticulous work, never suspecting the true reason for the beautiful new backplate. “It almost feels like a second skin,” Richard told the delighted man. “He is a genius,” Richard murmured to Rob as they left the armory and went to the training yard for their daily workout. “With this harness, I shall send Henry packing!”

“Pray God you will not have to, Richard,” Rob said, vehemently. “I would like to die from old age rather than a sword thrust,” and the two friends went, chuckling, to pick up their weapons.