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Francis of Brittany. A wave of color washed over Margaret's throat and face. Her eyes grew wide with horror.
    "Incest!" she gasped. "You would accuse me of incest ? He was my husband's brother. For such a sin there is no penance, only hell."
    Queen Elizabeth made an irritable sound. She thought there must be something between them. What else could keep Margaret in Pembroke Castle all those years, when she had a perfectly good husband and an open invitation to court? Perhaps the blush was of guilt. But now even the queen's lewd mind found it hard to believe.
    "There is no sin that cannot be cleansed with penance—especially rich, gold penance," Elizabeth said cynically and with contempt.
    She stared down at Margaret, who had been kneeling before her for half an hour. A silly woman, but harmless, and in a way an asset to the court. Her piety would lend an air of propriety to the ladies and, who knew, might even wake some conscience in them or in the king so that his lechery would be less open. Moreover, Margaret was very beautiful. If Edward tried her and she refused him, it might be possible to inflame him to confiscate her property. And if she did not refuse him, Elizabeth thought, her eyes and mouth hard, she will be humbled—she and her holier-than-thou soul.
    "You have lived too little in the world," the queen said. "We believe it would be to your benefit to serve as one of our ladies. How does this offer sit with you, Lady Margaret?"
    "It is my pleasure always to obey Your Grace," Margaret murmured submissively.
    The queen held out her hand, and Margaret inched forward on her knees to kiss it. It was odd, she thought, Henry VI's wife had been hated for her pride, yet she had never demanded that her ladies crawl about on the floor or hold conversations on their knees. And whatever her faults of character, Margaret of Anjou was of high birth and noble blood. Only an upstart like Elizabeth Woodville would need to humble her subjects. Another thought came to Margaret that made her smile. The very devotion to God that the queen scorned was what made the queen's service light to her. Unlike the other ladies of the court, who often wept with pain from kneeling, Margaret's knees were so calloused with praying that it bothered her not a whit to kneel to the queen by the hour.

    If Francis's original intention had been to barter Pembroke and Henry for Edward's assistance in a war against France, that intention soon altered. His childless duchess took to Henry unreservedly. Francis, too, developed a deep affection for the clever boy and, as weeks passed into months and months into years, affection deepened into admiration.
    In England Edward was too busy consolidating his grip on his kingdom to bother about Henry. When he did make an attempt to buy him, it was too late. Francis's regard for the refugee had grown paternal, and Jasper had proved extremely useful in fighting for his adopted country. Still, Francis was too cautious to refuse Edward outright. He set an astronomical price on Henry's head and took great pleasure in the shock of Edward's envoys and their attempts to bargain.
    When Henry was eighteen, another group of envoys arrived from the English king. Henry's strongest supporter, the duchess, had died a few months previously, and Edward was now offering something more attractive than money to Francis. The king of England proposed war against France as Henry's price, coupled with the promise that the young Tudor would be treated honorably. Had the decision rested with Francis alone, there would have been little question of Henry's safety; but the duke had displayed his affection for Henry too openly, and now many among his nobles wished to be rid of a rival. Francis could not afford to alienate his nobles with Edward amassing an army across the Channel. Should the English king invade Brittany instead of France, claiming that he had done so because of Henry, the disaffected nobles might well refuse to support their