The White Queen

SUMMER 1478

I have my boy Edward, my son Sir Richard Grey, and my brother Anthony come to my private apartments for me to say good-bye to them. I cannot bear to let them go from me in public. I don’t want to be seen to weep as they leave. I bend to hold Edward close, as if I would never be parted from him, and he looks at me with his warm brown eyes, holds my face in his little hands, and says, “Don’t cry, Mama. There is nothing to cry about. I shall come again next Christmas. And you can visit me at Ludlow you know.”

“I know,” I say.

“And if you bring George, then I will teach him how to ride,” he promises me. “And you can put young Richard into my keeping, you know.”

“I know.” I try to speak clearly, but the tears are in my voice.

Richard hugs me around the waist. He is as tall as me now, a young man. “I will care for him,” he says. “You must visit us. Bring all my brothers and sisters. Come for the summer.”

“I will, I will,” I say, and turn to my brother Anthony.

“Trust us to take care of ourselves,” he says, before I can even start the list of things that make me fearful. “And I will bring him safe home to you next year. And I will not leave him, not even for Jerusalem. I will not leave him till he commands me to go. All right?”

I nod, blinking away my tears. There is something that troubles me at the thought of Edward letting Anthony go from him. It is as if a shadow has fallen on us. “I don’t know why, I just always fear for him so much, whenever I have to say good-bye to the three of you. I can hardly bear to let him go.”

“I will guard him with my life,” Anthony promises. “He is as dear to me as life itself. No harm will come to him while he is in my keeping. You have my word.”

He bows and turns to the door. Edward, beside him, does a mirror copy of the graceful gesture. Richard my son puts his fist to his chest in the salute that means “I love you.”

“Be happy,” Anthony says. “I have your boy safe.”

Then they are gone from me.