The Uncrowned Queen. Anne O'Brien

      I waited until Edward had drained his cup, then took it from him, placed it on the floor beside my full one, and held his hands enclosed in mine. He cocked his head as if he might read my mind, and when he failed – for cannot every clever woman hide her thoughts from the man she loves? he said: ‘Tell me, then. I can almost hear your mind scurrying with advice.’

      ‘Let him be Earl of March,’ I replied urgently. ‘I say he’ll not enjoy it much longer. You have friends now, I think, who will not turn their back on you when Mortimer orders them into line.’

      ‘I have indeed.’ Edward’s eyes suddenly gleamed with a presentiment of the future. ‘I have friends who look to me as the young wolf who will one day challenge the old pack leader. So you have been listening to gossip?’ I think I amused him, as I often did.

      ‘Walter collects useful facts like a magpie collects bright objects,’ I explained.

      ‘I only hope Mortimer’s not as well informed as you seem to be – or my friends might feel the edge of an axe against their neck before they are much older.’

      ‘Walter and I are very discreet,’ I pronounced. ‘I drink to your friendships.’

      I rescued my untasted cup and we made the toast.

      ‘To friends,’ I said. ‘To the future, and your ultimate victory.’

      ‘Well said, Madam Counsellor.’ And I saw him deliberately step away from the weighty matters of state, for my sake, as he dragged me back into his embrace, his chin once more on my hair. ‘Now you must sleep. This child needs to rest, too, if one day he is to take on my sword and my kingdom. Let him be at peace – and don’t lecture him on what he must and mustn’t do if he is to be the perfect prince.’