They sail on into a late summer twilight and a blessedly moonlit night, to land at the Clwyd’s wide mouth; they clamber up the beach at dawn, children and nurses and a meagre guard of thirty men, and other boats of their flotilla to follow. They pull themselves on to horses that are wet to their flanks and nervous from the offloading, and set off for Denbigh, a twenty-mile ride into their own Welsh heartlands. They send a messenger ahead, to prepare the castle’s steward for their arrival, and to sound the call for Welshmen of York’s affinity to come to his aid.

When they arrive, salt-slapped and road-weary, towards day’s end, the first men to answer the summons are already straggling into the town and an encampment is forming on castle green. Riding in, Cecily looks about her.

Please God, more will come.

By the time they ride into Ludlow, three days beyond Denbigh, they have the makings of an army. Fifteen hundred march behind them under the castle’s towering barbican. Eight-year-old Edward seems more excited at the sight of it than of his parents, though he bows neatly to his father and doesn’t resist when Cecily pulls him into her arms. He is grown so much taller. His head rests now just below her breast when she bends to kiss it. His hair is spun gold between her fingers, warm, new-washed and scented with rosemary. Edmund, as ever, hovers just behind him, so she pulls him in too. But she can’t hold them long. Servants clatter all about them, Annette shepherds fretful children and George is crying again. From behind comes the bark of sergeants, as hard-marched men are ordered to make camp in the outer bailey. Edward is on his toes, trying to see it all. There’s no time.

‘Inside,’ she says. ‘Now.’

‘So many men, father! Are you for war?’ Edward dances backwards before them up the steps, at risk of falling.

His father takes his shoulders, turns him about.

‘I am not. I am for the King’s justice. I ride to Westminster tomorrow to meet with him.’

‘Let me go with you!’

Inside, men wait for them. Some are of their affinity and have been summoned, others have themselves sought the safety of Ludlow’s stout walls. They have much to say. Cade may be dead, they complain, but there’s violence across the country. King’s men everywhere. Royal officers and administrators live in fear of uprisings, riots or murder. Petty nobles mass private armies to settle personal scores. They each want to know what Richard’s intentions are, why he has returned.

‘To bring sense to all of this,’ he tells them. ‘To restore the King’s justice.’

Alone at last, they plan their way through night’s darkness; steal fitful sleep in the early hours, then rise with the dawn to ready Richard for the road.