'No,' said Uncle Anthony, 'nothing would prevent my being with you, my little Prince. You are my first concern.'

So although he had gone away briefly he was soon back and it was as it had been before. His wife would visit them from time to time perhaps but she would want to please her husband and that would mean pleasing the Prince.

If Anthony was his favourite companion and perhaps the most important person in his life, his mother held a special place.

She was so beautiful. He had never seen anyone like her. And she was always affectionate towards him. When she arrived she could look so cold, like an ice Queen and he liked to watch her when she was greeted by the servants and attendants with the utmost respect because after all she was the Queen; and then she would see him and her face would change; it was like the snows melting in early spring. The colour would come into her face and she would hold out her arms and he would run into them and then he thought he loved her more than he could ever love anyone even Uncle Anthony, although of course he admitted to himself he needed his uncle more. His mother was like a beautiful goddess—something not quite of this earth.

Then there was his half-brother, Richard Grey, another of his close friends, who was Comptroller of his Household. His uncle Lionel was his chaplain although he did not see a great deal of him for he had so many other duties to perform being the Chancellor of Oxford University as well as Bishop of Salisbury and Dean of Exeter.

How could he be so many things all at once? Edward had asked Anthony, who replied that it was possible; and at the same time to be able to keep an eye on his young nephew.

'After all,' said Edward, 'he is a Woodville.'

Anthony agreed. He had always taught the boy that there was something very special about the Woodvilles. They were capable of doing what ordinary mortals could not. The King, Anthony explained, had recognized that. It was why he had married one of them and so given Edward his incomparable mother; it was why he had put so many of them in the Prince's household so that his son should have the benefit of their virtues.

Yes, there were many of his mother's family. Her brothers Edward and Richard were his councillors and even Lord Lyle, his master of horse, was her brother-in-law by her first marriage. His chamberlain however was not a Woodville. He was old Sir Thomas Vaughan who had been with him since his babyhood. He seemed to be the only one to hold a post in the household who was not a Woodville.

Well, it worked very happily for Edward. He loved to hear of the perfections of his maternal ancestors. He scarcely knew those of his father, although Anthony said that now that he was coming into his teens he supposed his father would wish him to go to Court now and then.

'I don't want to/ said Edward. 'I like it here with us all. We are all so happy together.'

'It gives me great pleasure to hear you say that,' replied his uncle. 'It is what I have always striven for.'

There were his sisters the Princesses and his brother Richard. He liked Richard and his sisters, but he did not see them very often. He had to be kept apart in his own household. He knew why. Anthony had explained. It was because he was the most important member of the family; the heir to the throne.

He had scarcely known his uncles on his father's side. Anthony had told him something of them, of his wicked uncle Clarence for instance who had taken arms against the King and had come to a violent death—drowned, they told him, in a butt of malmsey. Edward could hardly imagine what that was like. He was overcome having already drunk too much of the stuff, his uncle told him, and then he toppled in. That was the end of him. It was a Good Thing.

There were certain events which were Good Things and they were the things that the Woodvilles wanted or caused to happen. Then there were Bad Things which were brought about by the enemies of the Woodvilles.

There was his uncle Richard. He did not know what to think of him. He was cold and stem and he had a son named Edward too, and a wife whom they always called Poor Anne. There was nothing very attractive about Stem Richard and Poor Anne. Moreover although his uncle Anthony did not say anything very revealing about him Edward sensed that he did not like him much. Therefore Edward was not going to either.

So he awoke that day with no premonition of the great change which was about to burst on him. He had heard of his father's seizure for he had nohced that Anthony was a little perturbed and when he asked him why Anthony told him that his father had been taken ill.

That had been hard to imagine. That great big splendid man suffering from the ailments which beset ordinary mortals had seemed impossible.

It was not impossible, said Anthony, his brow furrowed. Men like his father who lived . . . Anthony had sought a word and found 'luxuriously', often had what was called seizures. They hved so fully that they used up as much energy in half a lifetime as some did in the whole of one. Did Edward understand?

Edward did.

'Has he used up all his energy then?' he asked.

'Oh no . . . no. It's just a warning of what could happen.'

The King recovered. At Christmas Edward had seen him looking even larger and grander than ever. He had talked to Edward and told him to obey the rules of his household and grow up quickly. He had pointed out that heirs to the throne had to learn more quickly than others.

He did his best, Edward explained, and he would try.

'Well, my son,' said the King ruffling his hair, 'you can do no more than that, now can you?'

The King had danced with Edward's sister Elizabeth and everyone had applauded and Edward had forgotten all about the King's seizure. Uncle Anthony seemed to have forgotten also for he did not refer to it again.

It was time to rise and his chaplain and chamberlain came in. He must dress at once and go with them to his chapel there to hear Mass. His father had laid down strict rules for his household and one of these was that he must not hear Mass in his chamber unless there was a good reason for his doing so—which, thought Edward, means if I were dying.

After Mass there was breakfast and lessons in between that and dinner. On his father's orders this was a fairly ceremonial occasion; those who carried his dishes to the table were specially chosen and they must be in his livery. No one was allowed to sit at table with him unless his uncle had given his approval that they were worthy to do so. After dinner there were more lessons followed by exercises during which he must learn to carry arms and fence and joust as became his rank. There followed supper and bed. And so, enlivened by the bright conversation of his Woodville relations, surrounded by their affection and very often their flattery, the days had slipped by very pleasantly and with the passing of each one he was more and more convinced by the charm, the grace and the utter wisdom of the Woodvilles.

A week before his half-brother, Richard Grey, had gone to London. There was a certain amount of whispering going on in the household, Edward noticed. He asked Anthony about it and his uncle replied that it was nothing. People were always whispering together and making dramas out of nothing or very little.

But Uncle Anthony was a little different, perhaps even a shade more affectionate.

He forgot it. There was so much to do during the days. He wondered if his brother Richard was as good a horseman as he was. He would ask Lord Lyle if he knew.

His uncle Anthony came hurrying to him when he returned from the stables with Lord Lyle and he did a strange thing. He knelt down and kissed Edward's hand.

Bewildered as he was Edward had a faint inkling of what had happened then because loving as his uncle had always been he had never shown that much respect before.