Thomas’s mouth waters. None of them have eaten since the morning and to think of pigeon pie and a jug of ale is to think of heaven. He is regretting wearing the plate on his legs.

But then there is a disturbance behind them. There is a surge. Men are shouting on the stairs. A punch is thrown. They are shunted against the five guards; Thomas is nose to nose with a bearded captain of foot in a breastplate and helmet.

‘For the love of God step back,’ he says. ‘Can’t you see he is wounded?’

The guard looks at Sir John.

‘All right, let him through. You’re not to go into the solar though. Stand to one side.’

The guards let them through. They carry Sir John down the short gloomy corridor and into the hall. It is crowded with men but instantly Thomas’s eye is drawn to Edward of March, who stands staring into the fire with a cup of wine in one hand, gently scratching his cheek with the long fingers of his other. He is apparently listening to a man dressed in blue, but his attention seems elsewhere and just then a disturbance reaches the landing behind them and March looks up at the noise and catches sight of Hastings.

‘William!’ he calls, summoning him over. ‘Come in, come in! I commend myself to you! But for the love of all that’s holy how do you find yourself here?’

They kiss one another. March is taller than Hastings, but not by much, and Thomas wonders if he can see the common ancestor in their faces. No. March is wearing a flamboyant green velvet jacket, with vast shoulders tapering to his waist, cut short to expose his buttocks and the messy bulge of his cock and balls. The toes of his leather boots are extravagantly pointed.

‘I am waiting with Sir John Fakenham,’ Hastings tells March, ‘here to beg the indulgence of a word with your good father.’

March’s eye settles on Sir John and then flicks to Thomas.

‘By God! You again. Thomas Something! Saviour of Newnham and slayer of my lord the Earl of Shrewsbury.’

Thomas bows his head.

‘My lord,’ he says.

‘Our paths seem entwined, and every time you are near me, something beneficial comes my way. I hope to God you bring good luck tonight, for I believe we’ll need it. Is that my cousin I hear coming?’

They turn and see that the disturbance on the steps was the arrival of the Earl of Warwick.

‘Oh, saints above,’ March murmurs. ‘Did you ever see a man so enraged?’