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women.”
    Neville shrugged, and drained his goblet. He stood up, moving to the nearby table to refill it, turning to refill Bolingbroke’s as well.
    “Our friendship will never be what it once was, Hal. Not now.”
    “But we can still work together? For England?”
    “Aye,” Neville said, and raised his goblet. “For England.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence as both men drank, then Neville spoke again. “Talking of England, I amassuming that it was for unity’s sake that you turned so much of your fabled charm on Exeter this evening?”
    “I did my best, Tom. I did my best. At the least he laughed cheerily at my poor jests.”
    Ah, thought Neville. Then Exeter is a dangerous man and undoubtedly thinking to raise a rebellion.
    “And what words passed between you and Montagu?” Bolingbroke enquired.
    “General charm, but some sourness over the new home for the House of Lords. Hal, be careful. There is yet unrest.”
    “A kitchen has never caused a revolution yet, my friend. I shall have that kitchen decked out in fine emeralds and scarlets, and much gold gilding, and once the lords remember that the wine cellars lie directly beneath the former kitchen, well…”
    “I have also heard whispers—no, not from Montagu, but in the streets and stables—about Richard. Hal, some say he is not dead.”
    Bolingbroke’s mouth thinned. “Trust me, he is dead.”
    “Oh, I trust that you would not have him left alive to niggle at your legitimacy. But Richard’s name is powerful whether he is dead or not. A single rumour that he escaped Pontefract Castle and waits in the marches for all true Englishmen to gather at his side would be enough to destabilise your seat on that throne.”
    “ Richard is dead! ”
    “But he may still haunt you,” Neville said. “Be careful. You may be beloved of the commons, but there are many who would not weep to see you dead on the cobbles with a knife between your ribs. Richard’s name is the one they will use to thrust that knife home.”
    Bolingbroke waved a hand. “I will prevail.”
    “And I hope that you do,” Neville said, “for of all things I do not want another Richard to take your place.”
    Bolingbroke smiled, and the atmosphere between them eased a little further. “You have taken good care of Mary,” he said. “You and Margaret. For that I thank you.”
    “She is a treasure, Hal. The people on the street adore her almost as much as they do you.”
    “I have been lucky in my wife,” Bolingbroke said.
    “But not as lucky as you had hoped?” Neville said.
    Bolingbroke sent him a sharp look. “What do you mean by that?”
    “Mary will never bear you an heir. Have you thought about setting her aside?”
    “That is a brutal remark, coming from one who claims that my wife is a treasure.”
    “Then I ask you as a king, not as a man. As a king, you need an heir. How does the king answer my question?”
    “I can never set Mary aside,” Bolingbroke said. “And that is the answer of the king.”
    Neville nodded, turning to stare into the flames as he thought. No, the king could not set Mary aside, and certainly not for the woman Bolingbroke truly wanted, Catherine of France. The commons adored Mary, and would loathe Catherine. It might be the end of Bolingbroke’s kingship if he set Mary aside.
    So Bolingbroke the king was going to wait for Mary the queen to die.
    Neville wondered very much what Bolingbroke might do if Mary did not die. A crippled, barren wife was second only to a successful rebellion as the worst lot in life that fate could deal a king.
    “And France?” Neville said.
    Bolingbroke hesitated. “France? You know I will turn my attention to France sooner or later, Tom.”
    “Aye.” For there lies Catherine … and untold wealth and land. “Take care you do not become another King Arthur, Hal. So caught by his glorious dreams of conquering the entire civilised world he neglected his own family where waited his doom. Remember what happened to