The first night, we slept at Leicester, where the abbey reluctantly provided bed and board for the Dukes of Gloucester and Albany and other such nobles as could be accommodated, without actually turning the monks into the fields to find what comfort they could on the hard ground. Because of Albany’s insistence on my continued presence in his bed at night and at his side during the day, I was assured at all times of the best lodgings to be had; better even than that accorded to many of the minor nobility, who were obliged to take shelter in the various local houses or hostelries available to them. Some, indeed, were forced, on occasions, to have their tents removed from the baggage waggons and pitched alongside the common soldiery, bivouacking in the open countryside. Squires, body servants and the like were lucky to find room wherever they could. I expected that the continuing favour shown to me by Albany would arouse resentment amongst his immediate household, and was vaguely surprised when the five of them persisted in treating me with the same contemptuous tolerance that they had displayed since I was first introduced into their midst in London.
