"Yes," he answered. I am, and you are the earl's daughter the younger one."

"How long are you going to live with us?"

"Until I have learned all that I have to learn."

"There are always people here learning what my father can teach them."

He nodded.

"I know Francis Lovell and Robert Percy," I said.

"Do you?"

"Yes. I know them." "Sometimes I watch you all riding in the mock tournaments. There must be a lot to learn."

There is a great deal to learn."

"It must make you very tired."

"I am not tired." he said firmly.

I knew he was, so I said nothing and we were silent, he staring ahead, I think, willing me to go away.

I watched him, thinking of his father's head being cut off and stuck on the walls of York City.

He stood up suddenly and said: "I have to go. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," I said; and he went away.

After that I was more interested in the boys who came to be brought up at Middleham. They were all highly born, of course, and they were made to work very hard and continually. It was necessary, Isabel told me, because they had to become knights and fight in the war and there were always wars, so there had to be men trained to fight in them. These boys who were learning would all have to go to war and probably have their heads cut off and stuck up somewhere.

The boys lived like the soldiers my father always had with him wherever he went. They slept together and ate together; and there was a comptroller of the household whom they must obey. They had so much to learn; not only must they be proficient in the arts of war but they had to learn how to behave in the presence of ladies, so there were times when they came to the solarium or the great hall where we were assembled at that time to converse with my mother, Isabel and myself. They might play chess, or some musical instrument or dance.

I would look for the small dark boy who, I believed, preferred even the strenuous exercises of the fields and moors to those social occasions. It was different with Francis Lovell. He was very good-looking and merry, so Isabel usually made sure that she talked to him. I did not feel in the least envious. I had a great desire to learn more about Richard.

My mother smiled to see us together.

"He is a strange boy," she said.

"He is not easy to know. But at least he is the king's brother."

I said I thought Richard did not really want to talk to anyone.

"No," she said.

"That's true. But I think if he has to talk to someone he would rather it were you."

I felt a surge of pleasure at that until Isabel told me that it was because I was the youngest and did not count for much.

Poor Richard! He was often very tired. When I saw him coming in wearing his heavy armour, I was very sorry for him. He was different from the other boys; they had more sturdy bodies. Richard never complained; he would have fiercely denied his fatigue, but I noticed it, and I liked him the more because of his stoical attitude.

I knew by that time that he wanted to be strong and learn everything that would make him of use to the brother whom he adored. It was a hard life these boys were expected to live. I supposed it was necessary if they were to be prepared for arduous battle; but perhaps now that we had the wonderful Edward on the throne he would keep the peace. But of course they must always be prepared.

Sometimes, if the exercises were taking place in the castle grounds, we would watch. We saw the mock battles when the boys fought each other in the field with swords or even battle axes; sometimes they rode out in heavy armour for some exercise on the moors. It was all part of the training. And when they came back they must clean themselves, take supper, and in the early evening join the ladies for conversation, singing or dancing.

I often thought what a brave spirit Richard had; and what a tragedy it was that he had been given such a frail body.

In the beginning I knew he hoped that I would not seek him out, but after a while I fancied he used to look for me. My mother, who had a kindly heart and felt deeply for the young and all the trials they had to face in life, was somewhat pleased.

"I think they overwork him." she said.

"He is smaller than the other boys. Perhaps he will shoot up with the years. Some do. It is strange as his brothers are such fine tall men. As for the king, he stands head and shoulders above most." She smiled in that indulgent way people did when they spoke of the king.

"But I like to see you two friendly."

He used to dance with me. He was not very good and I pretended not to notice. I think he appreciated that.

I said: "I believe men should not dance well. It is not quite manly to do so."

"My brother dances well." he said.

"When he takes to the floor everyone is captivated by his performance. And he is the most manly man that ever lived." He glowed when he talked of his brother. When he was tired and obviously so relieved to take off his heavy armour, I would ask him questions about his brother and the tiredness would disappear. King Edward was his ideal. According to Richard, he was perfect in every way. I soon discovered that Richard's dearest wish was to be exactly like this brother. That wish was futile. Edward, it seemed, was all that Richard was not. I thought later that it was an indication of something unusual in his nature that he should so admire someone who was the absolute antithesis to himself.

There was a special seat at Middleham; it was cut out of the stone wall; shrubs grew round it so that it was comparatively secluded. He made it his special refuge; he would go there to recover from those exhausting exercises. He wanted to be apart from the other boys who naturally looked down on one who was not as strong as they were; and after the manner of the young they would not hesitate to call attention to this.

I used to join him there. At first good manners prevented him from asking me to leave, and he tolerated me; after a while I think he was sometimes glad of my company, for there was one day when I was unable to go to him and the next time he mentioned the fact with something like reproach in his voice. Then I knew he was pleased to be with me.

It was from him that I learned something of what was going on in the country.

Tell me about the Wars of the Roses ... about mad Henry and fierce Margaret and how it all came about," I said; and I settled back to listen.

The trouble is between the Houses of York and Lancaster," he explained.

"It would never have arisen if Henry the Sixth had been a real king. Kings must be strong like my brother. Henry is mad. It is not surprising. His French grandfather was mad and had to be put away for long periods. And the worst thing was that he married Margaret of Anjou. She is haughty, domineering and the people hate her. They do not like her two chief ministers -Suffolk and Somerset either. And in '53, when Henry and Margaret had a son, it looked as though the Lancastrians would be on the throne for a very long time. It was not good. A mad king, an arrogant foreigner for a queen and a child heir. Your father was against them. He was for the House of York. After all, we are related. Our mother is your father's aunt. She was one of twenty-three children ... the youngest, you see. There is a family bond. It was natural that he should support the House of York. The Percys are for Lancaster and the Nevilles do not like the Percys. They both regard themselves as Lord of the North."

"I am glad we are on your side, Richard," I said.

"I should not have liked to be with mad Henry and fierce Margaret."

"It would have been the wrong side to be on, for we are the winners, and once the people realise what it is like to have Edward for a king they will want no other."

"Sometimes the people cannot judge what is best for them, and sometimes they have to accept what king they are given."

"That is true, but my brother and your father will see that they will accept the king they are given."

"It is most exciting. I can see why you want to excel at all the things you have to do. They will be necessary if you have to go to war for your brother."

He smiled. I had said exactly what was in his mind.

He grew animated talking about the battles. St. Albans, Blore Heath, Northampton. Wakefield made him both sad and angry. I ventured to put out a hand and touch his because I knew he was thinking of his father's death and the ignoble treatment he had received.

"Wakefield has been avenged." he said.

"And then ... St. Albans."

Tell me about St. Albans."

This was the second battle which had taken place at St. Albans. It was truly brilliant strategy on the part of your father. His army was beaten in the field. Margaret thought she was secure. But your father joined up with my brother and they decided that they would not accept defeat and would march to London and there proclaim my brother king."

"But you said they had been beaten."

"That was at St. Albans. But the Lancastrians were unpopular. It was not Henry whom they hated. He was a poor sad creature. It was his overbearing wife. And when the news of the defeat of St. Albans reached London the people were afraid of being in the hands of the Lancastrians. They knew what it would mean if the rough soldiers came to London. There would be trouble in the streets houses would be ransacked, wives and daughters of the citizens misused. They were burying their valuables and were in a state of great anxiety. So your father decided to get to London first to save the city from the Lancastrian soldiers many of whom were mercenaries intent on gaining spoils for their efforts. It was a clever idea. Your father with my brother marched on the capital. They persuaded the people that they came in peace to save them from inevitable pillage and to ask them if they would accept Edward of York as their king."

"And they were welcomed," I cried, having heard something of this from Isabel.

"It is true. The important citizens were called together and asked if they thought Henry and Margaret fit to rule them. At this there was an immediate response in the negative. And would they take Edward of York to be their king? They cried, Yea, yea, yea. Oh, how I wish I had been there!"

"Where were you?" I asked.

I, with my mother and my brother George and sister Margaret, were all on a ship bound for the Low Countries. When my mother heard about the defeat at St. Albans she had thought she must get us out of the country. Of course, I was not old enough then to fight for my brother, but now I am older I shall soon be able to. As soon as we heard the news that my brother was the accepted king we returned home."

I listened enthralled proud that I was the daughter of the man who had made this glorious victory possible. My father and Richard's brother stood together. No wonder Richard and I were friends.

He seemed to share that thought for he turned to me and smiled warmly.

"Of course," he went on, "there had to be a lot of fighting after that. Margaret had really won the battle of St. Albans. It was just clever strategy which had won the day for us. There had to be the battle of Towton where we finally beat them and after that there was no doubt that my brother was truly king."

"With my father helping him to rule."

They are kinsmen and allies."

"As we are. Let us always remember that."

"Yes," he said.

"Let us always remember."

It was October. The leaves of the trees were already turned to bronze and there was a strong smell of autumn in the air.

I loved such days. Isabel and I often rode out with some of the boys and I usually found myself with Richard. He was looking better; he was becoming very skilful in all the martial arts and I admired him more than ever because I knew he had to make an extra effort to equal the others. He did tell me once, in a rare moment of confidence, that sometimes his shoulder was painful after the exercises. But when I asked afterwards if it were better, he frowned and I knew he did not like me to refer to it, so I did not ask again. I knew he was regretting mentioning it to me in the first place.

Returning to the castle one day, we found great activity. I knew at once by the number of men in the courtyard and about the castle that my father had come home.

My mother hurried to us as we arrived.

She said: "Your father is here. There is bad news. The enemy has landed at Bamborough."