With Katherine taking his other arm they support Sir John as he walks up and down his chamber four or five times. The old man tires quickly but for the first time in years he walks with no pain. After a few moments’ rest on the bed, he asks them to help him dress and take him downstairs.

‘Sick of this chamber,’ he says. ‘Sick of the bed, sick of the view. Sick of those bloody dogs, to tell you the truth. Put me in front of the fire with some hot wine and a mutton pie and God will reward you even if I do not.’

They take him down to the hall and help him to the table in front of the fire.

‘I feel a new man,’ he says. ‘I feel I can accomplish everything and anything. Within a week I shall be back in the saddle, I tell you. We shall ride to Sandal together.’

‘So,’ Richard says, placing his cup on the table and swinging his long leg over the bench. ‘We have been summoned. Fauconberg wants us. Now we have to decide what we are going to do.’

Sir John looks pained, as if this is not the way he’d hoped to celebrate his return to the hall.

‘Do?’ he asks.

‘Do while Riven remains in Warwick’s favour,’ Richard answers.

‘I don’t understand you, my boy.’

‘It is only that while Riven is in Warwick’s affinity, and while we are too, there’s no chance of asserting our right to Cornford, is there?’

Sir John shakes his head sadly.

‘It certainly looks that way,’ he agrees. He glances at Thomas and Katherine standing there, and for a moment Thomas thinks he ought to excuse himself but both have spent so long with Sir John and Richard in the solar upstairs while the old man has been recovering that there doesn’t seem much point. Sir John gestures for him to pour themselves a drink and sit.

‘So we have two options,’ Richard says. ‘The first is to try to create a schism between Riven and the Earl of Warwick.’

Sir John nods.

‘How might we do that?’

‘It is difficult. We do not know enough about Riven’s interests: where they might rub up against Warwick’s. I do not think they have any neighbouring properties.’

Sir John tries to think of something. His brow creases. Eventually he shakes his head.

‘I cannot think of any way at all. Warwick has shown that he will forgive anyone anything if it suits his needs.’

‘The other option then is to take an arrow from Riven’s bag.’

Sir John frowns.

‘What do you mean? Simply go in there and steal the castle? With fifteen of us and a boy with half an ear?’

‘No,’ Richard says. ‘We change our allegiance. We do not march to Sandal, but instead we find the Duke of Somerset. To join his affinity.’