For centuries, Richard III has arrived in popular culture with the verdict already attached: villain.
That makes Between Love and Loyalty interesting before the first battle is even fought. Elizabeth Howatt-Jackman does not begin with the monster made famous by Shakespeare. She goes back to the boy.
Her Richard is nine when we first see the weight of loyalty settling onto his shoulders. He grows up in a family scarred by violence, trains at Middleham, and develops an almost stubborn devotion to duty. He is a brother, soldier, friend and young man long before history knows him as a king.
That shift matters.
Instead of asking readers to simply accept the reputation handed down through centuries, the novel encourages them to watch Richard make choices. Some are painful. Some place loyalty above his own happiness. Others reveal the difference between seeking power and feeling responsible for those who depend upon you.
None of this makes medieval politics simple. Quite the opposite. The Wars of the Roses remain full of ambition, shifting alliances, bloodshed and betrayal. But Richard becomes human inside that chaos.
Perhaps that is the most compelling question the novel leaves behind: how much of what we “know” about a historical figure belongs to the person, and how much belongs to whoever survived to tell the story?
Sometimes history deserves a second hearing.