I am the queen. It seems that he has made one visit to the Woodville woman and forgotten everything that we hold dear. Everything that we have fought to win.

‘I wanted to ask her about the boys.’

‘No!’ I cry out, and then I put my hand over my mouth so that no-one can hear my arguing with my husband, the king. ‘My lord, I beg you. How could you do such a thing? Why would you do such a thing?’

‘I had to know.’ He looks haunted. ‘They told me of Buckingham’s rebellion and his words at the same time. One was as bad as the other. I wrote to you at once.’

Buckingham is telling everyone that the princes are dead and by my hand.

I nod. ‘I remember. But . . .’

‘I sent at once to the Tower, as soon as I heard that everyone was saying they were dead. All they could tell me was that the boys were gone. As soon as I got to London, the first thing I did was go to the Tower. Robert was there—’

‘Robert?’ I ask, as if I have forgotten the name of the Constable of the Tower. Robert Brackenbury, who looked at me with his honest understanding and said, ‘Oh, you’re tenderhearted’ when I said that the boys should be killed, but that I could not bring myself to give the order in so many words.

‘Brackenbury,’ he says. ‘A true friend. He would be true to me. He would do anything for me.’

‘Oh yes,’ I say, and I can feel dread in my belly as if I have been drinking ice. ‘I know he would do anything for you.’

‘He doesn’t know what has happened to the boys. He is the Constable of the Tower and he did not know. All he could say was that when he got to the Tower the boys were gone. All the guards would say was that they put them to bed one night and guarded the door all night and in the morning they were gone.’

‘How could they just go?’

His old energy returns. ‘Well, someone must be lying. Someone must have bribed a guard.’

‘But who?’

‘I thought perhaps the queen had taken them. I was praying that she had taken them. That’s why I went to see her. I said to her, I won’t even pursue them, I won’t even try to find them. If you have smuggled them away somewhere, they can stay there in safety. But I have to know.’

‘What did she say? The Woodville woman?’

‘She went down on her knees and she wept like a woman who knows heartbreak. There is no doubt in my mind that she has lost her sons and she doesn’t know who has them. She asked me if I had taken them. She said she would put a curse on whoever has killed them, if they are dead, that her curse would take the murderer’s son and his line would die without issue. Her daughter joined with her in the curse – they were terrifying.’

‘She cursed us?’ I whisper through cold lips.

‘Not us! I didn’t order their deaths!’ he shouts at me in a sudden explosion of rage that echoes off the wooden panelling of the little room. ‘I didn’t order their deaths! Everybody thinks I did. Do you think so too? My own wife? You think I would do that? You think that I would murder my own nephews when they were in my keeping? You think I would do something as sinful, as criminal, as dishonourable as that? You call me a tyrant with blood on my hands? You? Of all the people in the world who know what I am? You who know that I have spent my life pledging my sword and my heart to honour? You too think me a killer?’

‘No, no, no, Richard.’ I catch his hands and shake my head and swear that I know he would not do such a thing. I stumble over my words before his furious face and the tears come, and I cannot tell him – dear God, I cannot tell him – no, it is not you but it might have been me who ordered their deaths. It might have been my careless speech, my thinking aloud which prompted this. And so it is my sin that will draw the curse of the Woodville woman onto the heads of my Edward so that our line is without a son like hers. In that one moment, when I thought I was protecting us, when I dropped a word into Robert Brackenbury’s ear, I destroyed my future and everything my father worked for. I have drawn on my beloved son’s head the righteous enmity of the most dangerous witch in England. If Robert Brackenbury thought he heard an order in my words, if he did what he thought was my bidding, if he did what he thought was best for Richard, then I have killed her sons and her revenge will be thorough. I have destroyed my own future.

‘There was no need for me to kill them,’ he says. To my ears, his voice is an exculpatory whine. ‘I had them safe. I had them declared bastards. The country supported my coronation, my progress was a success, we were accepted everywhere, acclaimed. I was going to send them to Sheriff Hutton and keep them there, safe. That’s why I wanted it rebuilt. In a few years’ time, when they were young men, I was going to release them and honour them as my nephews, command them to come to court to serve us. Keep them under my eye, treat them as royal kinsmen . . .’ He breaks off. ‘I was going to be a good uncle to them, as I am to George’s boy and his girl. I was going to care for them.’

‘It would never have worked!’ I cry out. ‘Not with her as their mother. George’s boy is one thing, Isabel was my beloved sister; but none of the Woodville woman’s children will ever be anything but our most deadly enemy!’

‘We’ll never know,’ he says simply. He gets to his feet, rubbing his upper arm as if it has gone numb. ‘Now, we’ll never know what men those two boys might have been.’

‘She is our enemy,’ I tell him again, amazed that he is such a fool he cannot remember this. ‘She has betrothed her daughter to Henry Tudor. He was all set to invade England and put the Woodville bastard girl on the throne as queen. She is our enemy and you should be dragging her out of sanctuary and imprisoning her in the Tower, not going in secret to visit her. Not going to her as if you were not the victor, the king. Not going and meeting her daughter – that spoiled ninny.’ I break off at the dark rage in his face. ‘Spoiled ninny,’ I repeat defiantly. ‘What will you tell me: that she is a princess beyond price?’

‘She is our enemy no more,’ he says briefly, as if all his rage has burned out. ‘She has turned her rage on Margaret Beaufort. She suspects her, not me, of kidnapping or killing the princes. Their deaths make Henry Tudor the next heir, after all. Who gains from the deaths of the boys? Only Henry Tudor, who is the next heir of the House of Lancaster. Once she acquitted me she had to blame Tudor and his mother. So she turned against the rebellion, and she will deny the betrothal to him. She will oppose his claim.’

I am open-mouthed. ‘She is changing sides?’

He smiles wryly. ‘We can make peace, she and I,’ he says. ‘I have offered to release her to house arrest, somewhere of my choosing, and she has agreed to go. She can’t stay in sanctuary for the rest of her life. She wants to get out. And those girls are growing up as pale as little lilies in shade. They need to be out in the fields. The older girl is simply exquisite, like a statue in pearl. If we set her free she will bloom like a rose.’

I can taste jealousy in my mouth like the bile that rushes under my tongue when I am about to be sick. ‘And where is this rose to bloom?’ I ask acidly. ‘Not in one of my houses. I will not have her under my roof.’

He is looking at the fire but now he turns his beloved dark face to me. ‘I thought we might take the three oldest girls to court,’ he says. ‘I thought they might serve in your household, if you will agree. These are Edward’s daughters, York girls, they are your nieces. You should love them as you do little Margaret. I thought you might keep them under your eye and when the time comes we will find good husbands for them and see them settled.’

I lean back against the stone windowframe and feel the welcome coldness against my shoulders. ‘You want them to come and live with me?’ I ask him. ‘The Woodville daughters?’

He nods, as if I might find this an agreeable plan. ‘You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful maid in waiting than the Princess Elizabeth,’ he says.

‘Mistress Elizabeth,’ I correct him through my teeth. ‘You declared her mother a whore and her a bastard. She is Mistress Elizabeth Grey.’

He laughs shortly as if he had forgotten. ‘Oh yes.’

‘And the mother?’

‘I will settle her in the country. John Nesfield is as trustworthy as any of my men. I will put her and the younger girls in his house and he can watch them for me.’

‘They will be under arrest?’

‘They will be kept close enough.’

‘Kept in the house?’ I press. ‘Locked in?’

He shrugs. ‘As Nesfield sees fit, I suppose.’

I understand at once that Elizabeth Woodville is to be a lady of a fine country house once more and her daughters will live as maids in waiting at my court. They are to be as free as joyous birds in the air and Elizabeth Woodville is to triumph again.

‘When is all this going to happen?’ I ask, thinking he will say in the spring. ‘In April? May?’

‘I thought the girls might come to court at once,’ he says.

I round on him at that, I leap from my window seat and stand. ‘This is our first Christmas as king and queen,’ I say, my voice trembling with passion. ‘This is the court where we stamp ourselves on the kingdom, where people will see us in our crowns and tell of our clothes and entertainments and joy. This is when people start to make a legend about our court and say it is as beautiful and as joyous and as noble as Camelot. You want Elizabeth Woodville’s daughters to sit at the table and eat their Christmas dinner at this – our first Christmas? Why not tell everyone that nothing has really changed? It is you on the throne instead of Edward but the Rivers still hold court and the witch still holds sway, and the blood of my sister and your brother, and their little baby, is still on her hands, and nobody accuses her.’