Even so trouble continued: raids over the border, pillaging of English towns, raping of women and carrying off booty. Even Richard could not be everywhere at once.

On Richard’s last visit to the Court he and Edward had talked at great length about James’s young brother, the Duke of Albany.

‘Like other younger brothers he is eager to take the throne,’ said Edward sadly. He looked with affection at Richard. ‘There is so little loyalty in the world.’

Richard met his gaze steadily. ‘You will always be able to rely on me,’ he said firmly.

‘I know it,’ said Edward, stretching out a hand and taking his brother’s. ‘I never forget it. It has been the greatest comfort to me and will always be to the end of my days.’

‘I beg you do not speak of their ending. You are the king England needs and Edward, this country cannot do without you, so I pray you do not talk of leaving us.’

‘Lately the thought comes into my mind now and then.’

‘Then dismiss it.’

Edward laughed. ‘You know my nature well. Yes, I dismiss it, Richard, because it alarms me.’

‘There is no need. You are in good health.’

‘Oh yes, I have always enjoyed that. The occasional touch of some disorder. Natural enough, I suppose. I must live until young Edward is of an age to govern.’

Richard looked uneasy. ‘Let us hope that he will be a worthy successor to his father.’

‘You speak with doubt.’

‘It would be hard to match you, Edward, and the Prince is ... smothered by his maternal relations ...’

Edward burst out laughing. ‘My dear brother, you never liked my marriage did you? Too loyal to stand against me of course, but Elizabeth and you were never the best of friends, let’s face it.’

‘She is a very beautiful woman and she has given you and the country some handsome heirs. She has also set up her own family very well ... very well indeed.’

‘Sometimes I think it is due to Elizabeth and her family that you stay so long in the North.’

‘I have duties there.’

‘You remind me of Scotland and that is somewhere I would prefer not to remember. But you are happy in the North.’

‘I was brought up there. Middleham was my home for so long. Anne loves it. It is her home too. There we can live away from the ceremonies of Court life like a modest noble family.’

‘In a way, Richard, you are King of the North.’

‘I hold the North for you.’

‘And well you do it. You make a fine administrator. I want you to promise me, Richard, that if I should go before young Edward is of an age to govern, you will be close to him ... you will be beside him, you will govern for him until he is of an age.’

‘You have my word on it.’

‘Then that is settled. Let us have done with this dismal subject of my demise and speak of the almost equally dismal one of Scotland. What think you of this project concerning Albany?’

Richard was thoughtful. ‘Albany is weak, but we could control him. If we helped him to the Scottish throne we could demand all sorts of concessions. We could insist that he break his treaties with France. Scotland has always been there ... ready to stab us in the back whenever we crossed with our armies to the Continent. Now there are the proposed marriages.’

‘There have been several marriages between our two countries but that has brought no permanent peace. I have drawn up a list of concessions we will demand, and let us bring him over. We could have a meeting somewhere ... I suggest Fotheringay. You and I will see him together and we will discover what we can get from him. He should be ready to give us a good deal. Then we will set him up in place of James and he will be our puppet. It is always best to have a puppet ruler who moves when we jerk the strings.’

‘If it works it could be good,’ said Richard. ‘It will mean getting an army and marching across the border.’

‘That, brother, I leave to you. But first let us get Albany.’

The brothers spent several days together discussing how they would deal with the situation, and during the last days of March messengers arrived with news from across the seas.

Edward’s sister Margaret, the Duchess of Burgundy, wrote to her brother telling him that her stepdaughter Mary, the heiress of Burgundy, had been killed while out riding. Her horse had thrown her and she had died soon after.

This was a great tragedy, for Mary was clever and she had been brought up by her father with a sense of deep responsibility. She was married it was true to Maximilian, the son of the Emperor, and they had two young children, a girl and a boy; but Burgundy had been Mary’s inheritance and Margaret was fearful of what the reaction of the King of France would be.

‘You know,’ she wrote to Edward, ‘he has always wanted to bring Burgundy back to France. He will now do everything in his power to achieve this. Maximilian would fight but he has no money to do this. Edward, you must help.’

Edward stared ahead of him. He could see the comfortable existence slipping away. Help Burgundy against the King of France! What of his pension? He was in no mood to fight for Burgundy. He had Scotland to think of.

How could he possibly help Burgundy? What? Lose fifty thousand crowns a year! What of the marriage of his daughter and the Dauphin? That was almost as important to him as the pension.

He wrote to his sister commiserating with her for the loss of the stepdaughter of whom he knew she was very fond. But he offered no help for Burgundy.

There were more messengers.

Louis was now claiming that Burgundy should revert to the crown of France. If it did that would affect trade.

Edward was in a dilemma, but he dared not quarrel with the King of France. Ever since Louis had promised to pay the pension, he had paid it and it made all the difference. On no account must it be stopped.

Edward did what he often did in such circumstances, he turned away from what was unpleasant – more than that in this case ... alarming.

He must think of Scotland.

After the meeting with Albany at Fotheringay, Richard returned to the North and it was not long before the attack began. Richard was a clever commander and in a short time he was besieging Berwick. In the South, Edward expressed great satisfaction with the Scottish campaign and he arranged for special couriers to bring him the news because it was such a pleasure to receive it. He had great faith in his brother and Richard’s successes could stop his thinking of what was happening in France.

All through the autumn Edward revelled in the news. Richard was triumphant. He had left troops at Berwick to continue with the siege and marched on Edinburgh. James was at his mercy; the Scots were ready to treat for peace and even promised that if Edward did not wish his daughter Cecily to marry the heir of Scotland they would refund the instalments of the dowry which had already been paid.

There were more messages from Burgundy. Maximilian was fighting valiantly but he needed help. Edward must come to his aid.

Edward turned away to read the despatches from Scotland.

By this time, however, Richard was realising that he could not keep up his supply lines and good general that he was decided that the only sensible action was to return. He had taught the Scots a lesson; there would be no more raids across the border for a while; but there was one thing Scotsmen were determined on. They would not accept Albany as their King.

Richard retired to Berwick where the siege was still in progress; realising that Edward would not want to go on paying a large army he dismissed many of the men, keeping only a strong enough force to take Berwick which he promptly did.

Edward was delighted with the campaign.

He sent a special courier to Richard.

‘I want you to come to Court,’ he said. ‘I want to tell you myself how much I appreciate what you have done. I want to honour you. I want all men to honour you ... my beloved and faithful brother.’

There should be feasting in Westminster. It was a time for rejoicing. The conquering hero should be fêted.

Richard had more than subdued the Scots, he had given Edward those Northern victories to think of when he might have been very plagued by the news from Burgundy.


They would keep Christmas at Westminster he told Elizabeth and he wanted it to be a season all would remember.

Preparations were in progress, there should be special banquets, balls and a morality play performed in the great hall. The guest of honour should be his brother Richard. He wanted everyone to understand how he relied on his brother.

Elizabeth was a little sullen when Richard’s name was mentioned. She would have liked to whisper a word of criticism regarding him in the King’s ear, but she was wise enough to know how that would be received.

‘I am glad,’ she told her brother Anthony, ‘that he seems to be so enamoured of his life in the North. It keeps him away most of the time. As for Anne, she is a poor creature; she always looks to me as though she is fading away – and they say the boy is not very strong either.’

‘We shall doubtless see them at Christmas,’ said Anthony, who was suffering from a disappointment because his proposed marriage to the Scottish princess seemed to be going the same way as that which was once suggested with the Duchess of Burgundy.

Poor Anthony, thought Elizabeth. He needed a wife. She could easily find an heiress for him but she really wanted someone royal like Margaret of Scotland or Mary of Burgundy.

Poor Mary, she was no more now, and her husband Maximilian was not in a very happy state. Elizabeth knew that they were always sending frantic calls for help to Edward and she wondered what would have happened if Anthony had married Mary. Would he be in the same position as Maximilian was now?

She shrugged her shoulders. She could always brush off her disappointments and look for new fields of conquest.

Messengers had arrived with more news from Burgundy.

The King received the despatches but did not open them immediately. He did not want to hear disturbing news.

He talked to Elizabeth of the coming Christmas and as he talked his fingers curled about the papers. He supposed he must see what they contained. Who knew, it might be good news.

Good news from Burgundy! What good news could there possibly be? That Maximilian had miraculously found the arms and money he needed from somewhere. Where? Elizabeth was watching him. She knew that he was delaying reading the messages. She pretended not to notice and went on to discuss a new dance the girls were learning.

‘Elizabeth hopes that you will dance with her,’ she said.

‘Ah yes ... that I will. She is a delightful creature.’

‘Oh, Madame la Dauphine has her fair share of good looks.’

He could delay no longer. He broke the seals. It was from Margaret.

The words danced before his eyes. He was not seeing correctly. It could not possibly be. Maximilian had capitulated. He could no longer hold out. He was making terms for peace with the King of France. In this treaty Louis had agreed that the Dauphin should marry Maximilian’s daughter and bring the provinces of Burgundy and Artois under French domination.

Red mist swam before Edward’s eyes; his heart was beating with thundering hammer-like strokes.

The Dauphin for Margaret of Burgundy. But the Dauphin was for Elizabeth. He could hear his wife’s voice going on and on in his head. ‘Madame la Dauphine ... Madame la Dauphine ...’ No. His lips formed the word. It must not be. The Dauphin was for Elizabeth, Madame la Dauphine. His Elizabeth. His daughter. There could be no other Madame la Dauphine. And Louis had done this ... arrogantly, insolently, without even warning him. Louis knew how great his desire for this match had been. He knew what it meant to him. Perhaps he had heard how, ever since it had been decided on, young Elizabeth had been known as Madame la Dauphine. Perhaps he had laughed slyly. And he had done this ... brushed the King of England aside as though he were of no importance!

And what of the pension? What need to pay the pension now that he no longer feared Burgundy? What need to pretend this unnatural friendship existed? Oh he should have acted differently. He should have foreseen this. He should have sent everything he possibly could to prevent Maximilian being beaten by Louis.

At this most important stage of his career he had made a great mistake. He had been too complacent. He should have seen disaster coming. He had but he had refused to look at it. He had pretended it wasn’t there. And now ... it had come upon him. He had lost the marriage. He had lost the pension. An instalment was overdue now. No wonder for the first time Louis had held up payments. He should have seen it coming. And now here it was presented to him in such a way that he could no longer pretend not to see it.