I watched the group, the friendly intermingling. Richard was at ease, as he never was with my father. Laughter rang out. More wine was poured, the sun glinting on Richard’s rings as he clipped one of the men on the shoulder in easy camaraderie.

I frowned a little at the scene.

‘I see that it’s Richard and the friends of his choosing, but I don’t see what effect it has on me.’

‘In a year,’ my father said, ‘Richard will achieve his majority and will take up the reins of power. He will insist on it, although some would say he is not yet strong enough or sufficiently wise to manage policy. But Richard will assume the mantle of kingship and make his own decisions, shrugging off his advisers who have led him so far. Including myself.’ He turned from the window as if the scene pained him, returning to his seat by the fire. ‘My own influence hangs by a thread, but I’ll work hard to keep it from being completely severed. Richard, I hope, will still give me an ear, even though he resents my advice as interference. Certainly he has little time for his other uncles who would lecture him rather than persuade. My days are numbered but he values my diplomatic skills in making treaties with foreign powers if nothing else. I hope to hold his loyalty.’

Never had I been in receipt of such weighty matters. From the window where I remained, I studied my father’s austere profile, at the lines that had crept there when I had not noticed.

‘Would Richard cast you off?’ I asked, aghast at the thought. Had my father not guided and protected my cousin since his father’s death, the most loyal of uncles? Surely Richard would not be so ungrateful. And yet had not Princess Joan hinted at such an eventuality?

‘One day he will. I see it on the near horizon, and then where will Richard look for his new counsellors? Where will he give promotion? To whom will he hand titles and gifts and royal preferment? To those young men you see around him, out there in the courtyard. It is youth that cleaves to youth. In the future there is no role for me. Nor for Sir John Holland who may not be of my generation, but is not young enough to appeal to our new King.’

I watched the little scene unfolding below, where Richard was laughing, accepting a hawk onto his fist—obviously a gift from one of his companions who leaned to whisper in the royal ear.

‘Who is the dark-haired lad with the velvet tunic and the feathers?’ Perhaps a few years older than I, his hair was iridescently black in the sun, his features, what I could see of them, vividly attractive. ‘There.’ I pointed as the Duke returned to my side.

‘Robert De Vere.’

We watched them for a moment.

‘He’s trying hard to win Richard’s attention.’

‘And not without success,’ the Duke agreed dryly.

‘Henry is not one of them. That’s important, isn’t it?’ I was beginning to see, all too clearly.

‘Richard and Henry do not see eye to eye. They never have.’

‘Will de Vere and the rest make good advisers?’

‘Who’s to say? I trust that the Queen might have enough influence to steer Richard onto a sensible path.’ He shook his head, his shoulder lifting with unease. ‘But as for Holland … Where does he see his future? He cannot stand alone. He would be the first to admit that he is a man of ambition, and without the King’s patronage his hopes could well be destroyed. So if Richard will not help him to power as a royal counsellor, he needs to look for new allies. He looks to Lancaster. Do you understand?’

‘Oh! …’ I was beginning to see very well, but my father left nothing to chance.

‘You have spent your whole life surrounded by treaties, alliances, affairs of state, Elizabeth. Have you remained ignorant of what goes on between the high-blooded families of the realm?’

‘I am well aware. My own marriage was such an alliance.’

‘But you did not see yourself as a means to an end in Holland’s planning.’

‘He would not be so unscrupulous!’ Oh, but the doubts were already swarming.

‘Why would he not? When are any man’s motives innocent, in the friendships he makes, the connections he weaves together? A man of ambition will use every means he can to strengthen his position with one faction or another. If de Vere seduces Richard’s affection, then Holland’s days are numbered unless he has important friends. Do you see?’

‘Yes I do.’ I pursed my lips. I had always known that my marriage would be one of family alliances. What young woman of my situation did not? But to find myself singled out, wooed in fact, to further a man’s career, because I was a daughter of Lancaster … all my joy of the previous day was suddenly buried under a blanket of dismay.

‘Richard is thinking of sending him to Ireland, as Lord Lieutenant’, the Duke explained. ‘It may be that Holland has no wish to go, but would rather enhance his connection with the English court. With me. To be sent to Ireland could be death to a man who seeks power.’

Dismay was fast becoming transposed into horror.

‘I have not been very wise, have I?’

Was that all there was in John Holland’s fine words and finer gestures? Is that what it had all been about? The close attention, the playing fast and loose to lure me on, the flattering compliments, all to get a foothold in the Lancaster camp. Was I simply a means to an end, a step closer to the Lancastrian interest? Well, yes, it was entirely possible. He had gone with the Duke to St Malo, using his military skills to win grace and favour. With no war in the immediate planning, he needed another gambit. And I was it. The way to my father’s side.

How could he be so devious and yet so attractive?

‘You don’t like him.’ As I accused Philippa, so I asked my father.

‘Liking him is an irrelevance. I see his good qualities. I am wary of his bad ones. He has a handsome face, a smooth tongue and an ease of manner. He is hard to withstand. But however hard it is, you have to accept that his interest is not so much in you, as in what you stand for. Being a friend of Elizabeth of Lancaster can do him no harm.’ The Duke surprised me, lifting my chin so that he could peruse my face. ‘To be her husband can only be better.’

It made no sense.

‘But I am wed.’

‘And young lives are cheap. Who knows what the future will bring.’

I saw the strain on his face. We knew the grief of young death. Sometimes I forgot, but the Duke and my mother had mourned the loss of four of their children. Death was no respecter of rank or age.

‘So if Jonty were to die, Sir John would be ready to step into his shoes, and I, neatly, effectively seduced, would not be unwilling.’

‘Yes. And even if there is no such eventuality, it could only be an advantage to have a daughter of Lancaster with more than a friendly ear.’

‘It is heartless.’

‘It is pragmatic. How often is politics lacking in sensitivity? And I doubt that you are the only fair carp in Holland’s pond,’ he warned. ‘I’m certain he’s a master-planner, like a juggler with clever sleight of hand and agile fingers.’

Still I sought to excuse him.

‘Why not seek to engage Philippa’s interest?’

‘He knows my plans for Philippa. I would never allow her to wed Holland.’ The Duke gripped my shoulders, turning me from the window. ‘With or without marriage, you must distance yourself from him.’

How difficult it was to accept such a dictate. ‘He makes me feel alive.’

‘Pembroke will soon be old enough to be the husband you desire.’

‘But he is a boy. And John is … a man.’

‘I know. That is what I fear. And that is why I will send you back with Constanza to Hertford tomorrow.’

‘No …’

‘You will go. It is arranged.’ There was no gainsaying him. ‘I am not unsympathetic. But it’s time you grew into your position. I suggest that you use the royal audience this morning to see which way the wind is blowing for Holland. I think it will persuade you, if I cannot. Women are used to make alliances. What does Sir John want from you? A voice raised in his favour? Whatever it is, beware. Will you promise me?’

How could I do other? Life at Hertford with Constanza stretched before me, week after tedious week. ‘Yes, my lord. I promise.’

‘And make your peace with your brother.’

‘Well …’ It was not a scene I looked forward to.

‘You will do it, Elizabeth, and restore some vestige of serenity to our family.’

I read the implacable determination, the complete lack of tolerance for anything but my compliance. Family was power. Family was everything.

‘Yes, sir. I will do it.’

I saw it for myself at the royal audience, Richard saying farewell to a handful of the Bohemian dignitaries who had come to wish the happy couple well while the most influential were invited to remain in England, and, unfortunately in the eye of my father, at English expense. It was another monumentally grandiose occasion, and once I would have enjoyed it for its own sake but now I was a different animal, my eyes and mind opened to the truth of what was obvious but not being spoken aloud. Whereas of late I had treated the warnings of Princess Joan as the worries of a mother for her children, and had been quick enough to reject them, my father’s explanations, delivered with such cool conviction, had hit home. He had addressed me as a woman, as an equal almost. He deserved that I build on that crucial lesson.

So, while my hurt at John Holland’s behaviour rumbled in the background, I watched the political manoeuvrings at Richard’s royal audience. It was indeed an education in itself, now that I knew how to see the settings of the chess pieces on the board. Why had I never realised it before? I had been too taken up with the individual knights and pawns, the King and Queen. Too interested in their characters, their clothing, the rumours that knit them all together into a family, I supposed.