We were expected to travel to the court at Westminster to celebrate Christmas. Edward sent for us with an affectionate message. He wanted to thank his beloved brother in person for the splendid victories over the Scots.

Richard and I with our son set out for the south.

That was to be a memorable Christmas. It was the beginning of change a sad and unhappy change for me, in spite of the worldly glory it brought. I had no wish for it; all through it I yearned to be back at Middleham: but alas we cannot order our lives and must accept what comes to us.

The king greeted us effusively. He was as magnificent as ever. True, he had grown fat, which was not surprising if what one heard of his self-indulgence was accurate. His complexion was florid and his magnificent eyes faintly bloodshot. Yet he still looked like the model of a king, in spite of the pouches under his eyes. He was distinguished among all those surrounding him: he was smiling, benign, friendly, jocular and approachable. I have often thought that no monarch could have been more loved by his people. They would always smile on him no matter what they heard of his countless mistresses, and his unpopular marriage. Yet there was the queen, as beautiful as ever, the years seemingly unable to touch that ice-cold perfection; and all her children two sons and five daughters were as beautiful as their parents.

The king embraced Richard.

"My brother," he said.

"My dear, dear brother. God strike me if I ever forget what I owe to you! Welcome. We see too little of each other. And Anne, Anne, my dear sister. We are going to put some colour into those cheeks; we are going to make you dance the night away; we are going to put some flesh on those beautiful bones of yours. You don't look after this dear girl enough, Richard. I must have a word with you on that score."

"I am well, my lord," I insisted.

He kissed me.

"We are going to make you even more so. And my nephew ... welcome, fair sir. We are delighted to have you with us. Your cousins are waiting to greet you."

He exuded bonhomie and goodwill and I believe it was genuine. He loved people and he wanted them to love him. It was impossible not to fall under his charm.

Little did we know then that the blow was about to fall.

Richard was with him when the news came. He was glad of that. He told me about it afterwards.

"Messengers arrived from Burgundy," he said.

"I could see that my brother was not very eager to receive them. He was ever so. He hated bad news and always wanted to hold it off, even for a little while. He had been thinking of Christmas and the festivities. You know how he always enjoys revelry and such. Perhaps he had an inkling of what was to come.

"What think you this news from Burgundy may be?" he said to me.

"It is doubtless Maximilian begging again." I replied, "What will happen to him now? He is not strong enough to stand against Louis."

"He's energetic enough," said Edward.

"What he needs is arms and men. A war cannot be fought without them."

"He was thoughtful and, I could see, a little worried. I said to him, "Why not send for the messengers? Why not see what they have to report?"

"He looked at me steadily.

"You speak sense as always, Dickon," he said, calling me by my childhood name.

"We'll send for the men."

"And when they came?" I asked.

"I had never seen him so affected. The men had letters from Margaret. My brother read them and I saw the blood rush into his face; his eyes seemed as though they would burst from his head. I said to him, "What is it, Edward? You can trust me." He put out a hand and I took it. I had to steady him. I thought he was going to fall. His face was suffused with rage. I led him to a chair and forced him to sit down. He did so. He continued to shake. He thrust the letter into my hand.

"Read that," he said.

"I read the letter he gave me. I could not believe those words. Maximilian, unable to go on without help, had given up and made peace terms with Louis. There was to be a marriage between the dauphin and Mary's young daughter, Margaret; and the little girl's dowry would be Burgundy and Artois.

"The letter fell from my hand," went on Richard.

"I was as stunned as Edward. My first thoughts were of my niece Elizabeth, known throughout the court as Madame la Dauphine. Another would have that title now. I was not surprised at my brother's wrath. This alliance between Louis and Burgundy would mean that there was no longer any need for Louis to keep the peace with England."

"Will this be the end of the king's pension from France?" I asked.

"I could see that that was what was hurting Edward most. I was very alarmed for him, Anne. I have never seen him as he was then. It was always his way to shake off trouble. He had always been optimistic ... even at the worst of times. Then ... he leaned forward in his chair, and suddenly I saw his face suffused with purple blood. I loosened the shirt at his throat as he gasped for breath. Then I shouted for help. When they came in he had slipped to the floor. He looked so big, so helpless, so different from himself."

Richard put his hand over his eyes.

"I love him, Anne," he murmured.

"He was always my wonderful brother. So big, so strong ... so powerful. It was heart-breaking to see him thus."

I tried to comfort him.

"Richard," I said.

"This cannot be ... the end."

"The physicians are with him. They say it is a seizure. He clings to life. He knows he must not leave us."

I prayed with him and we waited for news.

The king had recovered. He sent for Richard, and I waited in trepidation for his return. It was very relieved when I saw him for I knew that the news was good.

Richard was smiling.

"He is magnificent," he said.

"He looks almost his old self. He says that the Christmas festivities are to go on as usual and he wants them to be more splendid than ever."

"He has completely recovered then?"

"It seems so. I wonder if he feels as well as he implies, for he did speak to me very seriously. He said, "My little Edward is but a child. He is twelve years old. He is young to have responsibility thrust upon him." I said, "But that will not be for many years."

"Oh yes, yes," he replied. But I saw the clouds in his eyes and he went on slowly and thoughtfully, "I have had a seizure, Dickon. When this sort of thing happens, it can be called a warning. Oh, I don't mean I am going to die tomorrow. I have years yet. I must have ... because Edward is so young."

"I said, of course he would fully recover. He is as strong as an ox. We could not do without him. Little Edward could not. I could not. England could not. He took my hand and pressed it. He told me he had known all through his life, which had been a somewhat turbulent one, that he could rely on me. I had never failed him. Some had and he was sorry indeed for what happened to them.

"My good friends at one time," he mused.

"Warwick, George, they betrayed me. But never you, Dickon, never you." I was deeply touched, and I told him how I had always loved and admired him. He had been the hero of my childhood, I said, and he continued to be.

"We sat in silence for a long time. Then he said, "I want you to promise me this. If I were to have another seizure, and if that time ..." I shook my head and said, "No, it will not be so." He ignored that and went on, "I want you to be the one to look after Edward. Guide him ... you shall be Protector of England until he is of an age to govern. Then I want you beside him." I assured him that I would follow his wishes. Whatever he asked, I would do for his sake. He seemed contented then. I said, "But you are going to live for a good many years yet, Edward."

"At least twenty," he said with his old jocularity. He seemed happier then."

"He must be worried about his health."

"Yes ... he began to talk about his achievements, as though he wanted to justify himself."

"Perhaps," I said, "he felt a twinge of conscience about taking the throne from Henry who was the rightful king."

"I guessed it was on his mind. It was right that Edward should take the crown for England's sake ... but as you say, Henry was in the direct line. He did not speak of Henry. He went on to stress the improvements he had brought to the country. Trade had increased.

"I always had sympathy with the merchants," he said.

"And some of their wives," he added, trying to introduce a lighter note. I said in the same mood, "I believe Jane Shore is still in favour." 

"Perhaps that was not wise, since he was stressing his virtues."

"Oh, he never looked on his amorous adventures as sins. They were natural, he would say, and gave not only pleasure to himself but to his partners in the exercise.

"It is a king's duty to please his subjects," he always said. No, he did not mind the reference to Jane; he is always happy to speak of her. I believe he cares very deeply for that woman.

"He went on to say that he understood business, which most kings did not.

"There is more to governing a kingdom than going to war and giving pageants," he said. I replied, "Well, trade certainly has improved and you have brought law and order to the land."

"And," he added, "I have started to build St. George's Chapel at Windsor which will be a splendid asset to the nation. I have built libraries. And who was it who brought Caxton with his printing to these shores? Did I not do that?"

"You have done a great deal for the nation," I assured him.