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‘You will be an exceptional Earl. As good as your father.’

‘I will not be the King’s great friend.’

‘No. There are too many years between you. But you will be one of his most loyal counsellors and soldiers.’

‘You have great faith in me. More than my mother has.’

‘I have known you all my life.’

‘So has my mother.’

We laughed a little at the foolishness of his remark.

‘Do you realise, Joan? Today we have both grown into our fate,’ Will said, defending his furred collar from the teeth of the huge friendly creature now being ignored, and I looked at him, a query in my gaze. ‘Because now you are Countess of Salisbury.’

That was it. Earl and Countess in a stable, nuzzled by a curious animal. I wiped the remnants of tears from Will’s cheek.

‘You do not weep,’ he said, an observation rather than censure.

‘He was not my father. I am sure that I have wept for my father too, even though I did not know him.’ I could not remember.

Will’s hand closed hard round mine. ‘I cannot be my father.’

‘No. You are yourself. Why should you not be a man of similar renown? And why should Edward not take you as his friend? Friendship is not always a matter of age.’

‘So what do I do? To become a King’s friend.’

‘Talk to him.’ I recalled talking to Edward about maps and King Arthur.

‘Talk…?’ I saw a momentary panic invade Will’s expression. ‘What do I talk about?’

‘About war and… and maps and clocks…’

‘Clocks?’

The panic deepened.

‘Perhaps not, although Edward has a liking for such things. He finds them intriguing. Go hunting with him. Hawking. You can do that. The King will always have an affection for you because of your father that will stand you in good stead. Now is the time to make it your own.’

It seemed good sense to me. All Will needed was some years under is belt.

‘It’s easy for you. He is your cousin.’

‘Believe me, Will, it will be much easier for you. You are a man, not a mere girl. And you are now Earl of Salisbury.’

Will blinked as if, at last, it had just struck home. ‘Thank you for your comfort, my lady. Earl and Countess of Salisbury.’ He huffed another little laugh which caught in his throat. ‘And so we have much to do. My father made it clear. Let us go and tell my mother what she needs to know about my father’s funeral.’

We were Earl and Countess of Salisbury.

William was sixteen years old. So was I.

We interred the Earl with suitable solemnities at Bisham Priory, which he had established and where he had expressed a wish to end his days on earth, after which Will and I returned to the court, leaving behind a lachrymose Dowager Countess who had yet to come to terms with my superseding her, in name if not in actual authority, within the Salisbury household.

The subtle changes within the royal household from that day of deadly celebration in January were immediately apparent but took a little time to absorb in their entirety.

The Queen, despite carrying yet another child, was gravely quiet, acknowledging the King’s loss of the friendship he had held most dear. As for Edward, there was no Earl of Salisbury to advise and cajole and laugh with him. Ned, also unnaturally solemn, was too young to take the Earl’s place, nor did he try. The King walked and talked and ate with a little space of dark loss around him. More startling, it was as if he had lost heart for his plans to install a body of chivalric and glamorous knights, now that his most famous knight had gone from this life, the man who had ridden at his side the night he took back his throne from Earl Mortimer at Nottingham Castle.

It was hard to believe that before the fatal tournament, flanked by the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of Derby, Edward, a Bible gripped in his hands, had vowed to begin a new Round Table in the spirit of King Arthur, creating a great round structure to house the three hundred knights who would be invited to join. The building, which he had begun with such hope and joy, was left half-finished, collecting cobwebs.

A bleak sorrow pervaded all.

‘Talk to him,’ I urged Will when, greeted as the new Earl, yet another shimmer of panic settled over him, ‘but don’t be too cheerful. Tell him about your new tapestries for Bisham. It won’t be difficult.’

‘Come with me…’

‘How would that help? Go and be a man amongst men.’

I could help him no more. Wishing him well, I went to supervise our occupation of the chambers set aside for the Earl and Countess. No, it was not difficult. As the biting cold was touched with a hint of spring, the King’s spirits lifted and the court began to gleam again. By the time we settled into the austerity of Lent, it was much as I had known it and Will was blossoming with a new confidence.

‘Good fortune, Joan.’

Sir Thomas Holland, with the gloom of January still about him, bowed.

‘Sir Thomas.’ I curtsied stiffly, already sensing an uncomfortable exchange. ‘My greetings to you too.’

There was no one to cast more than a glance in our direction at his formal assembly. The past was the past, over and done with, and with it all the doubts and debates. My mother had left the court for one of her own properties of Castle Donington, under the conviction that the tragic death had stitched me even more tightly into the garments of this marriage.

‘Countess of Salisbury.’ Thomas bowed again. ‘I commend you, my lady.’

I stared at him, not enjoying the baleful light in his eye as he continued:

‘I imagine it colours your view of our marriage, to my detriment. I can expect no resurgence of loyalty from you now. It is the way of the world.’ And when I raised my brows: ‘Why would you give this up,’ he gestured with a sharply raised chin to the robe and fur and the livery collar and to my regal coronet as consort of an Earl, ‘to be wife of a household knight?’

I was dressed to give honour to some foreign dignitary, come to make an alliance with King Edward. I was clad in Montagu magnificence all red and white lozenges and ermine fur, from my head to my feet.

I continued to regard Thomas, oblivious to the casual glamour of his own appearance, the silver lion rampant on the chest of his tunic, as I felt anger begin to beat in my head. Did he consider my loyalty so worthlessly ephemeral that the unexpected acquisition of a noble title would shackle me to Will’s side? Clearly, he thought exactly that. Living with the Dowager Countess’s resistance and Will’s grief had reduced me to a low ebb. Now resentful of such a slur on my integrity, I was in no mood to either deny it or make excuses.

I stoked my hand down the extravagance of the fur, luxuriating in it.

‘Why indeed?’ I said. ‘Yes, Sir Thomas, I have always wanted ownership of ermine and a strawberry-leaved coronet. I have decided that I will cleave to this Salisbury marriage after all. I might even find a true affection for William and rejoice to carry his heirs.’

‘Of course you might very well do so.’

Thomas’s teeth were all but clenched. My spine was as rigid as a halberd.

‘Being a princess in my own right bears absolutely no comparison to being a Countess through marriage,’ I added. ‘It is what I have always sought. I am surprised that you have not already accepted it. We have no future together, Sir Thomas.’

‘With which I concur. Security and rank is not to be sneezed at.’ He was as cross as I. ‘It’s better than anything I can offer you, by God! It is merely that I did not think that you would be so capricious, or quite so brazen, in where and when you offered your affections. The speed with which you have changed horses mid-battle is formidable. I should take lessons from you.’