The children looked a little alarmed because all this fuss and ceremony was for them. They held hands as commanded to and surveyed each other with a hint of hostility. Richard did not want a bride and mildly resented having one forced upon him; Anne who was a year or so older thought him something of a baby and if she had to have a bridegroom would have preferred his elder brother who not only was a more mature age but was the Prince of Wales.

However the last thing that was considered was the feelings of the bride and groom, and the ceremony over, the rejoicing began. There were to be days of tournaments and knights were coming into London from all over the country, and some from abroad, to share in this.

Elizabeth was very contented to see members of her family compete with distinction. Anthony was already a champion, but Dorset, her eldest son by her first marriage, was fast becoming known as a man to be reckoned with at Court.

He was profligate it was true, but then so was the King and his greatest friend Hastings; in fact the three of them went roystering together which in Elizabeth's eyes was somehow unpleasant. It seemed wrong that a man and his step-son should indulge together and she had been faintly alarmed to hear that Dorset had cast his lascivious eyes on Edward's goldsmith's wife. Now that could cause trouble. Perhaps she should speak to Dorset about it.

But worries could be shelved at this time for the glorious ceremonies were about to begin and a nice gesture would be when the little Anne Mowbray, the new Duchess of York, presented the prizes. Elizabeth had told Madame la Dauphine to sit beside her and help her for the bride was very young.

It was a great and glittering occasion but all through it the King was thinking of his brother.

Clarence was in the Bowyer Tower! He had been sentenced to death. Edward could not remember being so disturbed and undecided in the whole of his life.

Clarence free was a menace and yet how could he give the order that his brother be put to death? He knew if he did he would be haunted by what he had done for the rest of his days.

He, who had always liked life to flow pleasantly, now must face this terrible problem. He could not kill his own brother; and yet to let him live was danger. Was he afraid of danger? Not for himself, no! He had fought his way to the throne; he was strong; he had even stood against Warwick and won. No, he could deal with Clarence. But there was that haunting fear that he might not be here for ever. What if he died while his son was young? Who would look after him and what match would he be for Clarence?

Clarence must die for the Prince's sake. Elizabeth wanted that.

But then Elizabeth was sly and cunning. She had her own reasons for wanhng Clarence out of the way. He was the self-confessed enemy of the Woodvilles, and the Woodvilles were sacred in Elizabeth's eshmation.

If Clarence would only repent. He had talked of the matter with Richard who was in the South for the Mowbray wedding. Richard said that he could not kill Clarence.

'He is our brother. You would never forgive yourself.'

'And the alternative, Richard?'

'You can keep him in check.'

'Can I? If he raised an army against me I could defeat him, yes. It is these sly rumours. He now says I am a bastard. What think you of that? What an insult to our mother! He should lose his head for that alone.'

'He should,' agreed Richard. 'But you cannot kill him, Edward. It would haunt you for life.'

'Not if I could convince myself that it is the only way.'

Richard said: 'Go to the Tower, Edward. Talk to him. Try to make him see reason.'

'Would you go?'

'He would not listen to me. He has never forgiven me for marrying Anne. No. But you mayhap could strike fear into him for I believe that is the only way to get him to act reasonably.'

'I will go to him,' said Edward. 'I will try to make him see reason. I will make him see what the consequences will be if he does not.'

'It is the best way,' said Richard.

Edward made his way to the Bowyer Tower. They were just taking in a vast butt of malmsey.

He stopped the men and asked where they were taking it.

'To the Duke of Clarence, my lord,' he was told.

'Someone is going to have a drinking party, I should think. There is enough there to last one man a year.'

'My lord, not the Duke of Clarence. He is very partial to the stuff.'

'So, for my brother,' said the King, and he went his way.

Clarence looked sullenly at Edward.

'So my lord King has taken to visiting the poor prisoner,' he said.

'George, I have come to talk to you.'

'I am overcome by the honour.'

'Listen, you know you are in danger of losing your life/

'I know that you have condemned me to death.'

'Not I. The parliament.'

'At your command. You are afraid of me, Edward. That is why you want to get me out of the way.'

'If I had been afraid of you I could, as you put it, have got you out of the way long ago. I will not hesitate to tell you that many people to whom I should have been wise to listen would have done just that.'

'I know. You have your cronies. You have tne Woodville clan whom you have created, brother. You have made them the great family of England and all because you wanted the widow.'

'I ask you not to speak of the Queen.'

'Indeed not. Holy Elizabeth! Clever Elizabeth! A witch if ever there was one.'

'I have not come here to talk nonsense, George. I have come to give you one last chance. Stop this foolishness. Be my good brother as you were once when we were young. That's all I ask. Do this and you shall be free. But I warn you, George, that if, after you are forgiven, I find you out in one treasonable act the death sentence shall be carried out without further trial.'

'Oh magnanimous brother, beloved of his people! The handsomest man in the kingdom ... in the world some say. A little worse for wear just now, eh. Too many nights of love, too much romping with the ladies of the town. Have you had any attacks of the fever lately, Edward? That is what we call it is it not? You should be more careful of some of those town women, brother. You see after every fresh bout you are just a little less splendid.'

'Be silent,' said Edward. 'I can see that you are completely unrepentant.'

'What have I to repent of? Being the legitimate son of my father?'

'That is unforgivable ... a slander on our mother.'

'You know our mother, Edward. She is a woman of strong character. Do you think she was always faithful to our wandering father? He was scarcely at home. It would have been surprising if she had not given birth to a son who was not sired on her by the Duke of York.'

'You know you lie. George, you deserve everything that has come to you.'

'And you, brother, do not? The crown should have been mine . . . mine. . . . But you, bastard that you are, took it from me.'

'You are quite mad/ said Edward. 'I see I waste my time in talking to you. Stay here then . . . suffer your full deserts. I will try no more to help you.'

George closed his eyes. He was feeling somewhat muddled. He had finished the last of the malmsey before he had sent for the new butt. There had been more to finish than he had realized and he was slightly intoxicated. Heavy drinker that he was he was capable of taking a good deal of wine without its having any effect on him but he seemed to have taken more than usual and the effect was to dull his senses.

Edward was offering him freedom if he would swear to be a good brother in future. Had he been stark sober doubtless he would have accepted the offer. Not that he would have kept his side of the bargain. George was not burdened with a sense of honour. But he would have been free and able to work out his plan.