In June, Edward has George arrested for treason, and brings him before the council. Only I know what it cost my husband to accuse his brother of plotting his death. His grief and his shame he kept hidden from everyone else. At the meeting of the Privy Council there is no evidence brought; there need be no evidence. The king himself declares that treason has been committed, and no one can argue with the king on such a charge. And indeed, there is not a man there who has not had the sleeve of his jacket held by George in some dark passageway as George whispered his insane suspicions. There is not a man who has not heard the promise of advancement if he will make a party against Edward. There is not a man who has not seen George refuse any food prepared in any kitchen ordered by me, or throw salt over his shoulder before he sits down to dine at our tables, or clench his fist in the sign against witchcraft when I go by. There is not a man who does not know that George has done everything but write his own accusation of treason and sign his own confession. But none of them, even now, know what Edward wants to do about it. They find him guilty of treason but they do not set a punishment. None of them knows how far this king will go against the brother he still loves.