There might perhaps have been a slackening off of his sexual adventures. He had three mistresses now. They were the merriest, the wittiest and the most pious, he declared laughingly; and he was clearly satisfied with them all. It was not that he had given up the stray encounter but he did not go off in disguise as he had in his youth. Hastings and Dorset were still his companions; and each of them had a reputation almost as bad as his own.

But the people continued to love him. They did not want a monk. They had had that with Henry the Sixth. Edward had the reins of the realm firmly in his hands. He was driving along at a steady pace and everyone had come to understand that his method was so much better than those of other kings. They had had great conquerors, but what had happened to the conquests when the conqueror passed away? Some other king lost them. There had been King John, Edward the Second, Henry the Sixth. What had become of their predecessors’ victories when they were in power? They were lost, frittered away, and it was as though they had never been. But the wool trade could prosper; a king who had arranged that the King of France should support his country and so relieve his people of exorbitant taxes was a good king indeed.

There had been two sad incidents. The first was the death of little Anne Mowbray. Richard Duke of York had become an eight-year-old widower. The little girl herself had not been quite ten years old and she was with the Queen’s household at Greenwich when she had passed away. Elizabeth had been saddened by her death for she had loved the little girl and she had always said it was so charming to see her and Richard together. The child was buried in Westminster Abbey and it was fortunate, said Elizabeth, that the possessions she had brought to her young husband were to remain his even though his wife had died before him and they had no children.

So apart from the unfortunate death of the child, the little Duke of York had come well out of his marriage. That was what Elizabeth liked to see – the most cherished possessions of the kingdom falling into her family’s hands.

There had been an even greater blow for the royal family when the Princess Mary died after a short illness. Mary was nearly sixteen and her parents had been planning a brilliant marriage for her with young Christian, the King of Denmark, when she developed a sickness which made her weaker every day.

The Queen was overcome by her grief. Her daughter Margaret had died some ten years before, but she had been with them only eight months and that had been hard enough to bear, but to lose a daughter who had been with them for nearly sixteen years and had been healthy until this time seemed a bitter blow indeed.

They buried her at Windsor and the Prince of Wales attended the ceremony as chief mourner. Elizabeth was comforted a little by her daughters and in particular the eldest Elizabeth who was now known in the family as Madame le Dauphine.

But since the death of Clarence there had been peace in Court circles – at least outwardly, for although the resentment was there between the noble families and the Woodvilles it was rarely allowed to show itself to the King. That was what he wanted. He had never lost the desire to turn away from what was unpleasant as if by ignoring it it ceased to exist.

Richard was a great blessing, and Edward would never cease to be thankful to have the troubles of the North taken from his shoulders by someone as able and loyal as his brother.

Scotland had been a thorn in the side of every English king. Peace would reign for a while and then there would be war. It had gone on like that for centuries and always would unless some solution could be found whereby they could live peacefully side by side. A few years earlier he had agreed to a marriage between his daughter Cecily and the Duke of Rothesay, son of James the Third; and he had been paying annual instalments of the dowry ever since, a fact which pleased the Scots; moreover, Elizabeth had been most anxious to find a royal bride for her brother who had been widowed and a match had been arranged between James’s sister, Princess Margaret and Earl Rivers.

Even so trouble continued: raids over the border, pillaging of English towns, raping of women and carrying off booty. Even Richard could not be everywhere at once.

On Richard’s last visit to the Court he and Edward had talked at great length about James’s young brother, the Duke of Albany.

‘Like other younger brothers he is eager to take the throne,’ said Edward sadly. He looked with affection at Richard. ‘There is so little loyalty in the world.’

Richard met his gaze steadily. ‘You will always be able to rely on me,’ he said firmly.

‘I know it,’ said Edward, stretching out a hand and taking his brother’s. ‘I never forget it. It has been the greatest comfort to me and will always be to the end of my days.’

‘I beg you do not speak of their ending. You are the king England needs and Edward, this country cannot do without you, so I pray you do not talk of leaving us.’

‘Lately the thought comes into my mind now and then.’

‘Then dismiss it.’

Edward laughed. ‘You know my nature well. Yes, I dismiss it, Richard, because it alarms me.’

‘There is no need. You are in good health.’

‘Oh yes, I have always enjoyed that. The occasional touch of some disorder. Natural enough, I suppose. I must live until young Edward is of an age to govern.’

Richard looked uneasy. ‘Let us hope that he will be a worthy successor to his father.’

‘You speak with doubt.’

‘It would be hard to match you, Edward, and the Prince is ... smothered by his maternal relations ...’

Edward burst out laughing. ‘My dear brother, you never liked my marriage did you? Too loyal to stand against me of course, but Elizabeth and you were never the best of friends, let’s face it.’

‘She is a very beautiful woman and she has given you and the country some handsome heirs. She has also set up her own family very well ... very well indeed.’

‘Sometimes I think it is due to Elizabeth and her family that you stay so long in the North.’

‘I have duties there.’

‘You remind me of Scotland and that is somewhere I would prefer not to remember. But you are happy in the North.’

‘I was brought up there. Middleham was my home for so long. Anne loves it. It is her home too. There we can live away from the ceremonies of Court life like a modest noble family.’

‘In a way, Richard, you are King of the North.’

‘I hold the North for you.’

‘And well you do it. You make a fine administrator. I want you to promise me, Richard, that if I should go before young Edward is of an age to govern, you will be close to him ... you will be beside him, you will govern for him until he is of an age.’

‘You have my word on it.’

‘Then that is settled. Let us have done with this dismal subject of my demise and speak of the almost equally dismal one of Scotland. What think you of this project concerning Albany?’

Richard was thoughtful. ‘Albany is weak, but we could control him. If we helped him to the Scottish throne we could demand all sorts of concessions. We could insist that he break his treaties with France. Scotland has always been there ... ready to stab us in the back whenever we crossed with our armies to the Continent. Now there are the proposed marriages.’

‘There have been several marriages between our two countries but that has brought no permanent peace. I have drawn up a list of concessions we will demand, and let us bring him over. We could have a meeting somewhere ... I suggest Fotheringay. You and I will see him together and we will discover what we can get from him. He should be ready to give us a good deal. Then we will set him up in place of James and he will be our puppet. It is always best to have a puppet ruler who moves when we jerk the strings.’

‘If it works it could be good,’ said Richard. ‘It will mean getting an army and marching across the border.’

‘That, brother, I leave to you. But first let us get Albany.’

The brothers spent several days together discussing how they would deal with the situation, and during the last days of March messengers arrived with news from across the seas.

Edward’s sister Margaret, the Duchess of Burgundy, wrote to her brother telling him that her stepdaughter Mary, the heiress of Burgundy, had been killed while out riding. Her horse had thrown her and she had died soon after.

This was a great tragedy, for Mary was clever and she had been brought up by her father with a sense of deep responsibility. She was married it was true to Maximilian, the son of the Emperor, and they had two young children, a girl and a boy; but Burgundy had been Mary’s inheritance and Margaret was fearful of what the reaction of the King of France would be.

‘You know,’ she wrote to Edward, ‘he has always wanted to bring Burgundy back to France. He will now do everything in his power to achieve this. Maximilian would fight but he has no money to do this. Edward, you must help.’

Edward stared ahead of him. He could see the comfortable existence slipping away. Help Burgundy against the King of France! What of his pension? He was in no mood to fight for Burgundy. He had Scotland to think of.

How could he possibly help Burgundy? What? Lose fifty thousand crowns a year! What of the marriage of his daughter and the Dauphin? That was almost as important to him as the pension.

He wrote to his sister commiserating with her for the loss of the stepdaughter of whom he knew she was very fond. But he offered no help for Burgundy.