As always, I have to wait in the queen’s rooms in the hour before dinner for the king and his household to join us, so that we all go into the great hall together. The queen’s ladies assume that I am quiet from grief, and leave me alone. Only Lady Margaret Stanley, recently come to court with her new husband Thomas, takes me to one side and tells me that she prays for the soul of my sister and for her blessed children. I am oddly touched by her goodwill and I try to smile and thank her for her prayers. She sent her own son, Henry Tudor, overseas, for his own safety, as she does not trust this king with his keeping. Young Tudor is of the House of Lancaster, a promising youth. She would not allow him to be raised by a York guardian in this country, and though she is now married to one of the lords of York and high in favour with both king and queen she still does not trust this royal family enough to bring her boy home. Of all the court she will understand what it is to fear the king that you serve, she knows what it is to curtsey to the queen, uncertain if she is your enemy.
When Richard comes in with his brother the king, all smiles, and takes me by the hand to lead me into dinner, I walk close to him and whisper that George has come to court and promised me that he will find the murderer of my sister.
‘How will he do that from Flanders?’ Richard asks caustically.
‘He won’t go,’ I say. ‘He refuses to go.’
Richard’s crack of laughter is so loud that the king looks back and grins at him. ‘What’s the jest?’ he asks.
‘Nothing,’ Richard calls to his brother. ‘Nothing. My wife told me a jest about George.’
‘Our duke?’ the king asks, smiling at me. ‘Our Duke of Burgundy? Our Prince of Scotland?’ The queen laughs aloud and taps the king on the arm as if to reprove him for publicly mocking his brother though her grey eyes gleam. I seem to be the only person who does not understand the richness of the humour. Richard draws me to one side and lets the dinner procession go past us. ‘It’s not true,’ he says. ‘It’s the reverse of the truth. It is George who is demanding a chance at the dukedom of Burgundy. He hopes to become the duke of one of the richest countries in Europe and marry Mary of Burgundy. Or if not her, then the Princess of Scotland. He’s not particular as long as his next wife is wealthy and commands a kingdom.’
I shake my head. ‘He told me himself he would not go. He is mourning Isabel. He doesn’t want to go to Flanders. It is the king who is trying to get him out of the kingdom to silence him.’
‘Nonsense. Edward would never allow it. He could never trust George as ruler of Flanders. The lands owned by the Dukes of Burgundy are enormous. None of us would trust George with that power and wealth.’
I am cautious. ‘Who told you that?’
Over his shoulder I can see the queen seating herself at the high table that looks over the great hall. She turns and sees me, head to head with my husband. I see her lean to the king and say one word, two, and then he turns and sees us both too. It is as if she is pointing me out, as if she is warning him about me. As her gaze flicks indifferently over me I shiver.
‘What’s the matter?’ Richard asks.
‘Who told you that George was trying to go to Flanders or to Scotland and that the king would not allow it?’
‘The queen’s brother, Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers.’
‘Oh,’ is all I say. ‘It must be true, then.’
She looks down the great hall at me and she gives me her beautiful inscrutable smile.
Rumours swirl around court and everyone seems to be talking about me, and about Isabel and George. It is generally known that my sister died suddenly, having come through the ordeal of childbirth, and people are starting to wonder if she could have been poisoned, and if so, who would have done such a thing. The rumours grow in intensity, more detailed and more fearful as George refuses to eat in the great hall, refuses to speak to the queen, takes off his hat but does not bow his head as she goes past, crosses his fingers behind his back so that anyone standing beside him can see that he is using the sign of protection against witchcraft against the queen as she goes by.
He is frightening her, in his turn. She goes pale when she sees him and she glances at her husband as if to ask what she should do in the face of this insane rudeness. She looks to her brother, Anthony Woodville, who used to laugh when he saw George stalking down the gallery, acknowledging no-one; but now he too scrutinises him, as if taking the measure of an adversary. The court is utterly divided between those who have benefited from the Rivers family’s long ascendance, and those who hate them and are willing to suspect them of anything. More and more people watch the queen as if they wonder what powers she has, what she will be allowed to do.
