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.

The advice given to us was that we should stay in the religious house in which we were now sheltering. We had to remember that we were the declared enemies of the triumphant king and our fate would be uncertain. So, for the time being, we should remain where we were.

It was sad to see the grief of the queen and yet even as I did so I was saying to myself: I am free. That which I most dreaded will never come to pass.

My future was indeed uncertain. Perhaps I should be sent to the Tower. I was one of the king's enemies. So was my mother. Isabel, however, was on the winning side because Clarence had changed loyalties just in time.

Anything could happen to me; but all I could think of was that I need no longer dread my marriage.

Another dreary day passed. I knew that something must happen soon. I thought of the grey walls of the Tower of London which I had passed so many times and which had never failed to fill me with dread. Some prisoners spent years of their lives there without knowing for what reason. That would not be the case with us.

Margaret was so numbed by grief that I believed she did not care what became of her. It was different with me. I was fifteen years old; my life was just beginning and I could not bear to think of its being spent in some damp, dark prison. I had escaped from a fate which terrified me. Could it be to fall into one equally undesirable?

So I lived through those hours, startled at every sound, ears alert for arrivals.

They came at last. The guards surrounded the house and their captain confronted the nuns. I heard their voices below and went to the queen. She was sitting in a chair, a book of Holy Writ in her hands. I said: "There are guards here. They have surely come for us." She nodded. I could see then that she did not care what became of her.

"There is nothing we can do," I said.

She closed the book and stood up for the guards were at the door. Two of them came into the room.

"You are Margaret, one-time Queen of England, and Lady Anne Neville," said one. Margaret looked at them with haughty disdain and said: "That is so."

"You are to prepare to leave. Be ready please in half an hour." They had spoken courteously but firmly. Then they left us. Margaret sat staring before her. I went to her and tool hands.

"We must obey them." I said gently.

She gave a harsh laugh.

"Yes," she said.

"We are the prisoners now."

The nuns watched us pityingly as were taken away. I guessed they thought it would be death or imprisonment for us.

As we rode off I thought the countryside looked beautiful; the grass and trees seemed brighter than ever before. That was because I was telling myself that this might be the last time I saw them. I wondered what it was like to feel the axe on one's neck. One quick blow ... and then oblivion perhaps.

Fifteen years is not very long to live. It seems a pity to learn a little about life and then to be forced to leave it.

I looked at the queen; she still seemed indifferent to what was happening. Perhaps she truly did not care. All she could think of was that Edward was dead ... her bright beautiful boy on whom her hopes had been fixed. Now there was only poor sad Henry for her. Did she wonder what would become of her? If so, she gave no sign. And so we rode with that dismal cavalcade to where we had no idea.

At last in the distance we saw the city of Coventry and when we reached it we came to rest before a grey stone building.

There was a great deal of activity around us and as soon as we were led into this place Margaret was taken away, and I was left in the care of two women. I wondered who they were. They appeared to be ladies of the court.

"I'll dare swear you are tired from your long ride, Lady Anne." one of them said to me.

"It was a little exhausting."

"We are going to bring you some food and perhaps you would like to wash your hands."

"I should be very pleased to do so."

A basin was brought in. They stood with me and one of them gave me a towel. Then they came with bread and meat with a flagon of ale.

I thanked them but could eat very little. I was wondering what was happening to Queen Margaret and what was in store for me.

A long time seemed to pass. The ladies were speaking in whispers together. They had clearly been sent to watch over me. Eventually two guards appeared at the door and I was told to follow them.

With wildly beating heart I did so and was taken to a small chamber. Standing by the window was the tall figure of a man, legs astride, his back to the door.

One of the guards said: "The lady, your grace."

He swung round and to my amazement I realised I was in the presence of King Edward. I was so astonished that I could only stare. Then, recovering myself as quickly as I could, I advanced and knelt.

I dared not look up at him. I was trembling and my heart felt as though it were trying to leap out of my body.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You could rise." he said.

"It is not very comfortable on the knees."

I stood and lifted my eyes to his face. He was smiling and I was struck by his beauty.

"Little Anne Neville." he said.

"Why, you are only a child still." He drew me to him and kissed me, first on one cheek and then on the other. I was amazed at the warmth of his greeting.

"You tremble." he said.

"You must not be afraid. No harm shall come to you. You are not to blame. They used you, little Anne. I know that well. My brother assures me that you would be our friend. Is that so?" My eyes filled with tears as I lifted them to his face. I loved him then and I knew why it was that the people would have him as their king. He was a king in very truth for that gentle softness in no way detracted from his strength. Indeed, it added to it. I knew now why Richard admired him so much.

He said: "I sent for you. I wanted to speak to you myself. My brother my favourite brother Richard has told me of your friendship at Middleham. How old are you?"

"I am fifteen, your Grace."

"So young ... so very young. But you will grow up soon. You have suffered too much. You lost your father. That was a sadness for me. I want you to know that when the battle went against him, when I knew that he was in dire straits, I sent one of my men with my orders that his life should be saved. He was too old a friend of mine to die in conflict against me. It was none of my choosing that there should be war between us. We were friends for years and then ... But it is passed and he has paid a bitter price, and you, his daughter, are here. I know that you were put into the hands of the enemy. I know that you were betrothed to the prince. That is over now. Lady Anne, and you are going to be looked after. What say you to joining your sister, the Duchess of Clarence?"

"Oh, your Grace, if only I might!"

"You shall. She will be eagerly awaiting your arrival. And then you will be returned to what you meant to be ... a good subject of the king, eh?"

"Oh yes ... indeed yes, your Grace. I am so grateful."

"There, my child. You have a pretty face. You need rest though ... looking after. It has been a hard time, has it not? But our troubles are over, little Anne, yours and mine. So, let us rejoice. Very soon you will be with your sister. So prepare. But first, there is someone who would like to see you. Wait here and he will come to you."

I could not believe this. I had heard that the king liked to abandon formality at times; I had heard that he was generous and was often criticised for dealing too leniently with his enemies; but still I was astonished. Of course, he knew that it was through no desire of mine that I had been placed in the position I was in; but I was overcome by his air of bonhomie and the manner in which he had brushed aside the fact that I had been captured with the enemy and indeed had been made one of them. I was touched, too, by the way in which he had spoken of my father who had been killed fighting in an attempt to destroy him.

He was an unusual man and I felt in that moment that I would be loyal to him for the rest of my life.

I was left alone for a few seconds and then the door opened and Richard came in.

"Anne!" he cried and came towards me, his arms outstretched. He held me tightly against him for a few seconds. Then he drew back and looked at me.

"You've changed," he said.

"It has been a terrible time, Richard."

"I have thought of you often."

"And I of you ... so much."

He had changed too. He had not grown very much and still there was an air of delicacy about him. He must be nineteen now, for he used to say in the old days that he was four years older than I. But he was a man now ... no longer a boy.

We just stood looking at each other.

I said at length: "The king has been so good."

"He is the most wonderful man on earth."

"I understand how you feel about him. He says I am going to Isabel."

"For a while." he said.

"Then we shall see. Is that what you want?"

"I should like it very much. And my mother ...?"

"She will be in sanctuary for a while where it is safe for her. My brother George thinks you should go to your sister and, of course, Isabel will be delighted that you do."

"Richard, what of Queen Margaret?"

Richard's face hardened.

"I do not know," he said.

"It is not decided."

"Poor woman. She mourns the death of her son so deeply."