How different it had been in His family. Of course some of them had died. There was Henry William and John and Thomas among the boys. The girls had taken a stronger grip on life except little Ursula who was the last and had been born some five or sbc years before the death of their father.
Then there was Edmund who had been slain in battle. Richard would never forget the day when the news had been brought to him of his brother's death, because it had been at the same time as that of his father, and Edmund's head had been stuck up on the walls of York with that of the Duke.
Edward had said they must forget all that. There were three of the boys left: himself, George and Richard.
'We must always stand together,' Edward had said. 'Do you think anyone could harm us then?'
'No one would ever challenge you, brother,' Richard had replied.
Edward liked that. Edward was so magnificent in every way. He was good as well as great, and yet he had always had the time to think about his brothers and sisters.
Richard had told Anne that while Edward reigned they need never fear anything.
Anne had replied that while her father and Edward stood together none could come against them.
Francis Lovell pointed out that some had tried to do that and there had been battles.
That was true, agreed Richard, who hated to diverge from the truth just to win a point. But his brother had won in the end and it was the last battle that counted.
'The last battle,' he said, 'has been won at Hexham. Poor Henry is wandering from place to place fearful of capture. They will get him of course and then. . . .'
They looked at him wanting to know what would happen when Henry was captured.
Richard said: 'My brother will know what to do.'
His brother always knew what to do. How wonderful he had been at his coronation—^but not aloof by any means. Ever ready with a smile and a nod of approval every time his eyes fell on his young brother. Looking a little anxious as he touched the boy's shoulder, wondering whether his armour was too heavy for him, asking how he fared at Middleham.
Richard remembered how, after the second battle of St Albans,
he and George had been sent to Utrecht by their mother. That had been one of the most unhappy hmes of his life because he had known that Edward must be in difficulties for them to be sent away. But it had been a short stay—they left in February and as soon as Edward was proclaimed King he sent for them.
What joy to see him again! He was even grander than before—a King indeed. When Richard spoke his name—and he invariably said 'My brother', George had said it was as though he were talking of God.
Edward was a god—Richard's God.
Richard would never forget the time when he and George had been sent to the house of John Paston when their mother went to join their father at Hereford. It had been sad to part from their mother and go into a strange house; but Edward had been in London and every day he had called at the Paston house to see his young brothers.
George had said: 'So he should. We're his brothers, are we not?'
'But it is wonderful that he has hme to see us . . . that he makes time to come,' Richard pointed out.
George shrugged his shoulders. Richard read the thoughts in George's eyes. He was jealous. He was-always talking of the perversity of fate which brought people into the world at the wrong time. George thought that if he had been the first-bom he would have been as wonderful and as suitable to be King as Edward.
What nonsense!
They lay on the grass together—he, Anne and Francis Lovell; they looked lazily from the wide expanse of sky to their horses standing quietly by. This was contentment. These were the people he loved. If Edward came riding over the rough grass now he would be completely content. Francis and he understood each other; he had made Francis aware of Edward's greatness and Francis, being his very good friend, accepted what he said. Anne's father, the great Earl of Warwick, was Edward's staun-chest supporter. It was a lovely cosy feeling to be among friends.
'Dickon is so proud of his new badge,' said Anne. 'You kept touching it, Dickon,' she added.
'It is a rather nice one,' said Richard.
'Read it out to us,' said Anne because she knew he liked to do that.
Richard read loudly and clearly: 'Loyaulte me lie.'
Anne clapped her hands. 'It is the most honourable thing in a man/ she said. 'Loyalty to what he believes in.'
'It means/ said Richard with a faint colour in his usually pale cheeks, 'Loyalty to the King. That is my brother Edward. My loyalty to him will never falter.'
'You are so proud of being brother to the King/ she said, smiling at him.
He nodded and she thought: I suppose I must be proud to be the daughter of the Kingmaker. But one did not mention the Kingmaker to Richard. He did not like the suggestion that his godlike brother owed anything to anyone—even Anne's father.
But she knew that he delighted in the friendship of her father and his brother.
Francis looked at the louring clouds and said he thought they should go back to Middleham.
When they reached the castle there were signs of activity there. There had been important arrivals. Richard's heart leaped with hope. Perhaps it was Edward.
It was not, but it was the great Earl himself.
He was in a strange mood and it was clear that he was displeased about something. The mood of the great man must affect the entire castle and everyone was clearly rather unhappy.
Richard wondered whether he might ask what was wrong. He was about to but the Countess threw a warning glance at him, and he was silent.
He did say: 'My lord, have you seen my brother of late?'
'I have indeed,' was the answer, and it sounded like a growl. It was clearly forbidding Richard to say more.
The Countess was eager to discover what had happened and when the Earl told her she could scarcely believe it.
'It's true,' he said. 'We're going to have a coronation. Richard should prepare to leave for London at once.'
'Elizabeth Woodville! I cannot believe it.'
'Nor could any of us until it was shown to be true. We thought he was joking.'
'But he has had so many mistresses . . . why marry this one?'
'By all accounts marriage was a condition of surrender and he was so bemused he gave way to it. I begin to wonder whether I have put the right man on the throne.'
That her husband was more disturbed than he betrayed
himself to be, the Countess was fully aware. He had governed the King for so long that this was a bitter surprise when the King turned on him and made it quite clear that in future he would manage his own affairs.
'It's disaster/ said Warwick. 'The Woodvilles . . . the woman's rapacious mother. . . . You'll see what happens. We shall have the Woodvilles everywhere and they are a large family.'
The King will quickly tire of her. He always tires of them.'
That is our hope. Then of course we must see about arranging a divorce and a new marriage which will bring good to the country.'
'Richard, what are you going to do?'
He looked at her steadily. He was not accustomed to discussing affairs with her. He was very fond of her. She had been the best possible of wives. He should be grateful, for as one of the biggest heiresses in the country she had brought him the title of Warwick and the vast wealth which had helped to make it possible for him to rise to his present position.