"My mother is truly beautiful," he said.

"When she was young she was known as the Rose of Raby. She and my father were devoted to each other and she travelled with him whenever it was possible. She could not be with him in battle naturally, but often when he was fighting, she would be somewhere near, so that she could see him often."

"And she had all those children?"

He nodded.

"We were all in awe of her ... more so than we were of our father. Edward is very like her ... in looks, and George perhaps more so. He was Margaret's favourite. I used to wish that I were. Margaret was very kind to us both but it was clear that she loved George best. He was always doing something which was forbidden and although she used to scold him she would make excuses for him and she always told him that, however wicked he was, she loved him just the same. She was good to me. Oh, but it was different with George. Well, he was tall and strong and golden-haired. I was never like that ... not like him and Edward ... Margaret did not mean it to show ... but it did."

Poor Richard, I thought.

"Well, you were lucky to have a big family," I said.

"I wish I had some brothers."

He admitted that it was good.

"Especially in war," he added.

"Families stand together."

"Not always. Brothers fight over crowns and things."

"We never would. We are a united family. Oh, how I wish I were old enough to go and fight with Edward!"

"Well, you will one day."

I used to think a lot about Richard. What a pity he was not tall and handsome. It must be particularly galling, having been born into such a perfect family. I wanted to see them all ... George, Margaret and the Rose of Raby. It all sounded so romantic and exciting.

Christmas was on the way. My father was absent most of the time, for although Margaret had eluded capture at Bamborough she was still around to make trouble, and there were several castles in the North which were still in Lancastrian hands. My father and the king were making war on these.

A messenger came to the castle with news from the king. He was ill and at Durham Castle. It was not a serious illness but his physicians said he should take a short rest. He wanted his brother, Richard, to come to Durham and spend Christmas with him.

To my chagrin and Richard's great joy, he left Middleham to spend the festive season with his brother.

My mother was growing less apprehensive. The storm had passed, but she was ever on the alert for danger.

I said to Isabel: "I suppose there could be times when people do not have to worry and the king who is on the throne is left in peace."

"That would be rather dull." she replied.

"And what about our father? How could he be a kingmaker if there was not any need to make a king and keep him on the throne?"

"I think our mother would like it better."

"And every day would be the same. Lessons, needlework, riding, walking. Whereas now people come here. One never knows when the soldiers will come ... and you can wonder what will happen next."

"I still think it would be rather pleasant." I said.

That's because you are so young." she said in her usual contempt for my youth.

I missed Richard. He had not returned after spending Christmas with his brother. Our father came home for periods and there would be the usual activity: entertaining went on and there were often a great many people at the castle for whom lavish meals were provided. I often wondered how many of these people who paid such homage to my father would have done so without the benefits they received. Many of them came to the castle from France.

This made Isabel very excited. She was always reminding me of her age, for she was very proud of being nearly five years older than I." was ten at this time so she must have been nearly fifteen. It was an age when the daughters of powerful men were found husbands.

Desperately Isabel longed for a husband. There was no one else to talk to about this except her little sister; so it was to me that she talked.

"You realise, do you not, that our father is the most powerful man in the kingdom. He is also the richest. What does that mean?"

That he is the most powerful and richest man in the kingdom, I suppose."

"Idiot! It means that we are great heiresses. I more than you because I'm the elder. I suppose there will be something for you, too ... quite a lot, as a matter of fact. Our parents have no sons. So it will come to us."

"I had not thought of that."

"You don't think of anything but being with Richard of Gloucester. Mind you, he is the brother of the king. But I wouldn't want a brother. I would want a king. And why shouldn't I? After all, I am great Warwick's daughter ... his elder daughter ... so what if ...?"

"What?"

"Didn't you think the king was the most handsome man you ever saw?"

"Why yes, I suppose he is. I cannot think of anyone else "Well just suppose "Do you mean ...?"

Her eyes were sparkling. Then she said: "After all, who made him king? If my father didn't like what he did, he could say, "You are no longer king. I'll put Henry back." "

"Henry already has a wife ... Margaret... the one they all hate."

"I was not thinking of marrying, Henry, stupid. Oh, I do wish you has a little more sense."

"But you are thinking of marrying Richard's brother."

"Do not tell anyone. It would not do to talk."

"Has our mother said ...?"

"Nobody has said anything. I'm just telling you. I am just saying it could be." "Richard would be your brother-in-law."

"Richard is not important. He is too young and too small. He might do for you."

"What do you mean do for me?"

"Well, if I married the king it would be rather nice if you married his brother. Particularly as I think you like him better than anyone else. And I think he likes you, too, because he talks to you."

I was pleased.

"Yes, I agreed.

"He does. I wonder when he will be coming back."

Isabel was not interested in that. She was dreaming of herself as Queen of England.

Our father came home for a while and there were more visitors from France, and it was obvious that he was very pleased to have them in the castle. They brought letters for him. Isabel and I wondered whether my father might be arranging a match for her in France.

"Poor Edward will be disappointed," I said.

She glowered at me.

"I might be Queen of France."

"I believe the King of France is an old man and already has a wife."

"Well, he'll have a son, won't he? I expect I'm for him."

She was certain that that was what the messengers were arranging. It was a bitter blow when she discovered how wrong she was.

My mother talked to us often while we did our needlework. Isabel was old enough to know what was going on; and it could be true that they were trying to find a suitable husband for her. My turn for that was a little way ahead, for which I was thankful. I often saw my mother looking at Isabel anxiously and I knew she was thinking of the fate of young girls who were thrust into marriage before they knew what it was all about: and with her daughter it would have to be a marriage of state.. One day Isabel said to our mother: "Why are there so many French at the castle these days, my lady?"

My mother looked up from the altar cloth which she was embroidering and said: "The King of France is very anxious to be friends with your father."

"I know." Isabel smirked.

"Is there some special reason?"

"I believe that the King of France is a very wily man," went on my mother.

"They call him the Spider King."

"Are spiders wily?" I asked.

"So many people are afraid of him," said my mother.

"Many people have a fear of spiders. I suppose it is because they lie in wait for their prey and watch them being caught in the sticky web and then the spider comes out and makes his victim powerless."

"It sounds horrible," I said, looking at Isabel. She was thinking of marriage, of course. How would she like to be in a family at the head of which was such a man?

"The King of France," went on my mother, "likes to be on good terms with the important men in all countries which might affect him, so that he can have good friends all around him. That is why he seeks your father. He has only been on the throne for three years. He became King of France at very much the same time as your father made Edward King of England. He is full of admiration for your father's management of this country. That is gratifying and pleases your father mightily. Not only is he pleased to be on good terms with such an important country as France, but France is the country where Margaret takes shelter. Your father is always hoping that out of friendship for him, Louis may agree to a treaty which would prevent Margaret's taking refuge in his country."

Isabel yawned slightly. Then she said with animation: "I was wondering whether my father is trying to arrange a marriage."

My mother looked at her sharply.

"Have you been listening at doors, Isabel?" she asked, for Isabel had occasionally been discovered in such situations.

"No, no, my lady. I just wondered."

"Well, I will tell you, but you must speak of this to no one. Your father is trying to arrange a marriage." I was aware of Isabel: she was leaning forward, her hands clenched.

"For the king," my mother went on.

Isabel looked blank. What could the king's marriage have to do with France? Her eyes were already darkening with disappointment.

"Yes, the King of France is eager that his sister-in-law, Bona of Savoy, should be Queen of England, and whom should he ask to arrange this but your father?"

Poor Isabel! My mother did not notice how shocked she was and went on: "It is time the king was married. We need heirs to the throne. It is always good for kings to have their children when they are young. One never knows what is going to happen, particularly in these terrible times. Who would have thought that Henry the Fifth would have died when he did a young man, so strong, so brave, the conqueror of France? Oh, if only he had lived! And then he left poor Henry, his only son. Sometimes I feel sorry for that poor man. Only don't tell anyone I said so. However, the point is that the king should marry. I am sure the marriage will be fruitful and everyone will be happier to know there are little heirs to the throne. So that is what your father is so eager to arrange with the French visitors."

We went on with our needlework and Isabel was very silent.

But when we were alone, I could not resist saying: "So, you were wrong. The marriage was for the king, but not with you."

"All this stupid war," said Isabel.

"All this looking after Edward. Our father made him king. It is time he gave some thought to his daughters."

Poor Isabel! It was a great disappointment. She had so looked forward to being Queen of England, or at least Dauphine of France.

A few weeks after Christmas our father left home to attend the funeral of our kinswoman, the Countess of Salisbury. This was to take place in Bisham Abbey in Buckinghamshire, and all the greatest nobles of the land would be there to pay tribute to her, or perhaps it would be more correct to say to the Earl of Warwick. I was not sure whether the king would attend but I guessed that Richard would be there.

And when my father returned to Middleham, to my delight Richard came with him. His brother George, Duke of Clarence, was also a member of the party.

It was our first meeting with George who was to play such an important part in our lives.

Richard introduced him proudly and it was obvious that he had great respect for his brother. It did not match the admiration he had for Edward, but it was a deep affection. Knowing Richard, I could understand why. George bore a certain resemblance to Edward. He was tall and extremely handsome; he had that easy charm which I had recognised in his brother. He was affable to everyone, easy-going, laughing a great deal and giving the impression of enjoying life in every way.

I soon discovered though that he had a grudge against fate which was that he had not been born the eldest son. I believe that sentiment was common enough among the sons of great men: they all wanted to be heir to the title, lands and wealth which their father had enjoyed. And, of course, in addition to all that in this case there was the crown.