Richard was standing near an ante-chamber and, wanting to escape from George, he slipped in and stood beside one of his fellow knights of the Bath. The boy put his finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the musicians’ alcove. All of a sudden Richard was aware of a high, sweet voice fluttering on the edge of confidence rising above the gentle notes of a harp. He squeezed between two adults, whose attention was focused not on a boy soprano, which would have been usual, but on a chestnut-haired girl seated all by herself on a stool, the musicians having gone in search of refreshments. Had he been a little older, he might have noticed her beauty, but at eight he was more impressed with her daring.

Despite the din behind him in the great hall, all noise disappeared for Richard but the girl’s plaintive song, and he was captivated by the sound. He had not shown talent for any instrument, despite the efforts of an accomplished music tutor, but he loved music. All too soon, the notes died away, and several spectators applauded. Seemingly unaware she had had an audience, the girl looked up and straight into Richard’s smiling face. He would much later wonder if it had been his smile or her family’s compliments that had made her blush so prettily.

“She’s good, do you not agree,” Richard’s friend whispered. “I would not dare to sing in front of anyone.”

Richard nodded. “Nor I. I wonder who she is.” He was quite sure he had seen her before, but he had no chance to ponder the mystery as a fanfare behind him announced the coronation banquet, and the privileged guests hurried to find their places.

“The Lord Richard is it not?” a friendly voice stayed him as they moved into the hall. “Sir John Howard, at your service.” Richard returned the bow, pleased to have been acknowledged by this well known loyal Yorkist and Edward’s councilor. “Did you hear my young friend sing? A voice like an angel, did you not think? The lass is only ten, but by the Rood, with her looks, she will turn heads and make a husband happy…”

“Or be someone’s leman,” Will Hastings interrupted, chuckling. “She’d be wasted as a wife.”

Richard was not sure what “leman” meant, but his beautiful mother was a dazzling duchess and had made his father happy, so why was a wife a waste? He had the sense to reserve that question for later, and besides he was hungry. He saw Edward beckoning to him from his throne upon the dais. Splendid in his ermine-trimmed royal purple, with the lions of England and his Sunne in Splendor badge decorating the baldachin held high above him by four knights of the Garter, Edward appeared the perfect model of kingship.