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I was glad to be at peace, if only for a short time. I was exhausted mentally as well as physically. The more I saw of my prospective bridegroom, the more I dreaded the marriage and that now seemed close.

I thought about the armies which would be facing each other. Richard would be beside his brother. I felt desperately sad because we were on opposite sides. I prayed that Richard might come safely through this conflict. As for my future husband ... I tried not to think of him.

We did not have to wait long for news. We received it from the soldiers who had come straight from the battle field. They were in sore need of attention. I was not sure on which side they had been fighting. They had simply found their way to the nuns, hoping they could have their wounds attended to. I went with the nuns to help if I could.

One of the men who was lying on a pallet looked at me and said: "My lady, you are ..."

"Lady Anne Neville," I said.

And at that moment Margaret appeared. She had heard that there were arrivals at the house and she was hoping for news of a Lancastrian victory.

"What news?" she cried.

"What news?"

Both of the men were silent. I could feel my heart beating wildly.

"I am the queen," said Margaret with an intimidating manner.

"I demand to know."

One of the nuns said: "Your Grace, this man is badly wounded."

That I perceive," retorted Margaret.

"The queen asks him a question and he is holding something back."

The day has gone against us, my lady," said the man.

"Against the Prince of Wales?"

"King Edward is victorious, my lady."

"I do not believe he could be."

The man closed his eyes and lay back on his pallet. She went to him and would have shaken him but two nuns laid hands on her and forcibly held her back. Margaret in her fear and anxiety looked as though she were about to strike them.

I said quickly: "When the men have recovered a little perhaps they will be able to tell us more, my lady. Just now they are too exhausted."

She stepped back.

"It cannot be." she said.

"Edward would not let it be. We had the men ... we had everything."

"Let me take you to your room. Rest awhile. I will go back, and help with the nuns. As soon as there is news I will come to you."

To my surprise she allowed me to lead her away. I think she was so afraid that everything had gone wrong that she wanted to hold off the truth for a little longer until she had schooled herself to receive it. I made her lie down on the pallet in her cell. I said: "Rest assured I shall soon be with you."

"Perhaps Edward will come. They are not far away. He will come as soon as he is able."

I left her and went back to the nuns and the wounded men.

One of the men said: "The queen has gone?"

"She is resting now," I told him.

"My lady, the battle has gone against us. The army is routed. King Edward is victorious. My Lord Somerset has been captured. The army is finished. It is the end, my lady. The king is back."

"Are you sure of this?"

"I have seen it with my own eyes."

"I understand," I said.

"I dare not tell the queen, my lady."

"What are you holding back?"

"It is the Prince, my lady. He has been slain. I beg of you, take this news to her. She must know ... and I dare not tell her."

I stared at him. Could this be true? I tried to imagine what this would do to her. She was a strong woman I had good reason to know but if this were true and the Prince of Wales had indeed been killed ... how could I tell her?

I did not tell her. I must be sure that it was true before I did. I spent a restless night. In the early hours of the morning I awoke to find someone in my cell-like room. It was the queen.

She said: "You are awake, Anne?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I cannot sleep."

"Why is there no news? Edward said he would send word when the battle was over. Surely it cannot still be going on."

"It is over," I said.

"You know something. These men ... there is something they have told you. Tell me. I command you."

I was silent. She had risen. She took me by the shoulders and shook me.

"Speak," she said. Tell me the worst. I forbid you to withhold it. Tell me."

The battle is over." I said. The Lancastrian army is in retreat. The Yorkists have won the Battle of Tewkesbury."

Then why was I not told?"

"The men were afraid. They began to tell... and then they were afraid."

"How dared they keep back anything?"

"They feared to hurt you."

"What else?" she demanded.

I was silent.

"Not you, too, Anne Neville." she cried.

"You must not withhold news from me."

Still I was silent.

Her eyes were wild. It was as though she were on the verge of madness. I thought, how can I tell her that her son is dead?

She must have read my thoughts. I had told her the field was lost. She knew that in any case from the men. What worse news could there be, and where was Edward? Why had he not come? I think she knew in that moment.

I had never seen such blank despair. I wanted to comfort her but I did not know how.

She said quietly: "It is Edward."

I nodded.

"What? Captured?" There was hope in her voice.

Still I was silent.

Tell me, in God's name, tell me."

The men may be wrong," I said.

"What did they tell you?"

That they saw him."

"Yes ... yes." "He was slain."

"Then he is dead. My son is dead!"

I had gone to her. I put my arms round her.

"The men were wrong." I said.

"You know how these stories get around."

She sat on the pallet and stared ahead. I saw the tears on her cheeks.

"He was everything to me," she murmured.

"When he came ... he was the best thing that ever happened to me. He was bright and beautiful. I used to watch him when he was a little boy ... watched him for the madness of his father. But there was no madness. He was bright and beautiful. He would have made a great king. He would have made up for everything. He is not dead. He cannot be dead." I said: "The men were wrong. It was something they heard.

They must have been wrong."

She turned on me angrily.

"Then where is he? If he were alive, he would have come here. He knew I was here. He would have come to me. I have lost him. Nothing matters any more. Oh, God in Heaven, why did You not take me first ... not my bright and beautiful son?"

"We must not grieve. We shall hear more news later."

She said: "Yes, we shall hear more news. But in my heart I know. Never more shall I see his dear face. This is your loss too, my daughter. I have begun to think of you as my daughter. You were to have been his bride. You have lost a husband even as I have lost a son." She gripped my hands and I said again: "It could be untrue. We must remember that."

She shook her head.

"I know. It is the end. Why did we do this? First Warwick and now Edward ... my Edward. Nothing was worth it. York could have the crown ... if they had left me my son." I could think of no way of comforting her. She had loved him.

She was fiercer in love even than in hatred. Sometimes I had wondered whether she had cherished him so fiercely because he would be king and bring the House of Lancaster back to rule, but now I knew that she loved him not only as the one who was to restore her pride and fulfill her ambitions, but as a son. She said: "Leave me now. I would be alone. Leave me to my grief."

I wanted to remind her that we had only the soldiers' word for this. There could be a mistake. But she was not listening. All I could do was leave her alone with her grief.

The next day there was confirmation. The prince had indeed been killed in battle. The Lancastrians had been defeated. The Duke of Somerset and several important leaders had been captured and executed without delay. The Lancastrians had been completely routed: and King Edward of York had come back to stay.