The wedding feast goes on for all the afternoon, long into the night: dish after dish comes from the kitchen trumpeted by our musicians, meats and fruits, breads and sweetmeats, thick English puddings and French delicacies. It makes the queen’s coronation feast seem like nothing. Father has outdone the King of England in a great demonstration of his wealth and power. This is a rival court that outshines Edward and his commoner wife. My father is as grand as the wealthy Duke of Burgundy, grander than the French king. Isabel sits in state in the middle of the top table and waves dish after dish down the hall to the tables that must be honoured. George, handsome as a prince, puts little cuts of meat on Isabel’s plate, leans towards her, whispers in her ear, and smiles over at me, as if he would have me in his keeping too. I cannot help but smile back: there is something thrilling about George in his wedding suit, as handsome and as confident as a king himself.

‘Don’t fear, little one, there will be a grand wedding for you too,’ my father whispers to me as he walks behind my table where I am seated at the head of the ladies in waiting.

‘I thought—’

‘I know you did,’ he says, cutting me short. ‘But Richard is heart and soul for his brother the king, he would never do anything against Edward. I could not even ask him. But George here,’ he glances back at the top table where George is helping himself to another goblet of malmsey wine, ‘George loves himself before any other, George will take the best route for George, and besides, I have great plans for him.’

I wait in case he will say more, but instead he gently pats my shoulder. ‘You will have to take your sister to her bedroom and get her ready,’ he says. ‘Your mother will give you the word.’

I look up at my mother who is eyeing the hall, judging the servants, watching the guests. She nods at me and I rise to my feet, and Isabel suddenly pales as she realises that the wedding feast is over and the bedding must start.

There is a noisy and joyful parade that takes George to my sister’s new big bedroom; the respect for my mother prevents it being too bawdy, but the men of the garrison bellow their encouragement and all the wedding guests throw flowers under her feet and call out blessings. My sister and her new husband are put to bed by an archbishop, twenty maids in waiting and five knights of the garter, in a cloud of incense wafted by half a dozen priests, to the stentorian bellow of my father’s shouted good wishes. My mother and I are the last to leave the room, and as I glance back Izzy is sitting up in bed, looking very pale as if she is afraid. George leans back on the pillows beside her, naked to the waist, his blond hair glinting on his chest, his broad smile very confident.

I hesitate. This will be the first night in all our lives that we have slept apart. I don’t think I want to sleep alone, I don’t think I can sleep without my sister’s peaceful warmth in my bed, and I doubt that Izzy wants George, so loud, so blond, so drunk, as a bed-mate. Izzy looks at me as if she would say something. My mother, sensing the bond between us, puts a hand on my shoulder and starts to lead me from the room.

‘Annie, don’t go,’ Izzy says quietly. I turn back and see that she is shaking with fear. She stretches out a hand to me as if she would keep me with her, for just a moment longer. ‘Annie!’ she whispers. I can’t resist the alarm in her voice. I turn to go back into the room as my mother takes me firmly by the arm, and closes the bedroom door behind us.

That night I sleep alone, refusing the company of one of the maids; if I cannot be with my sister then I don’t want any bedfellow at all. I lie in the cold sheets and there is no-one to exchange a whispered account of the day, no-one to tease, no-one to torment me. Even when we fought like cats in a basket, there was always the comfort of having Izzy there to fight with. Like the very walls of Calais Castle she is part of the scenery of my life. I was born and bred to be secondary to her: the beauty of the family. I have always followed behind an ambitious, determined, vocal older sister. Now suddenly I am alone. I lie awake for a long time, staring into the darkness, wondering what my life will be, now I no longer have an older sister to tell me what to do. I think that in the morning everything will be utterly different.


CALAIS CASTLE, 12 JULY 1469

‘Is it pirates?’ I ask my tutor, catching his hand as he goes past me with a writing desk towards my father’s rooms. ‘Please, sir, is it a raid of pirates?’