Eyes and ears left behind in London warn of a royal army in preparation, of Edmund Beaufort calling up West Country men. They remember Gloucester, who came to the King when called for, and did not live to leave.

The summons found them at Middleham Castle, where granite walls amid the green folds of Wensleydale keep their strategies secret.

‘So, we move to intercept the King between London and Leicester, bring the battle to him.’ Warwick digests news hungrily, thinks fast.

Cecily watches him. He’s become quite the captain, with all the decisive swagger of youth.

Her brother Salisbury has a cannier head. ‘Careful, son. We’ve no quarrel with the King. Only with his counsellors.’

‘We put an end to Beaufort.’ Richard is emphatic. ‘That’s all. And by negotiation, if we can. We fight only if we must.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, let’s not have another Dartford,’ says Cecily. ‘If we threaten a fight we must be willing to have it.’

That night, she seeks her brother out alone, takes his arm and urges him. ‘Let him not be made a fool of again. They will kill him this time.’

‘Never fear,’ he tells her. ‘We go to take possession of a king. And there are more scores to settle than Beaufort’s.’

Now they’re heading south with an army at their back. Salisbury’s wife and Warwick’s have stayed north. Cecily would not, though at seven months gone, the journey wracks her. They’ll gather men from Fotheringhay on the way. Cecily will stay there, with her children. Closer to wherever the confrontation will be.

And to London, where they hope to go after.

They go to the church when they arrive, hear mass, then walk together from tomb to tomb, touching their dead. Cecily looks about and wonders where, among these reaching arches, she would lay Richard. Close to the altar in God’s sanctuary, she supposes, beside their firstborn son. But she shakes her head. That day is far off, and she will not court it with thoughts.

Her living children are in hall to meet her when they come to the castle. Elizabeth and Margaret, who seem lost without their older sister’s shepherding. Five-year-old George, who earns a cuff for pulling on his mother’s skirts. Little Dickon, who toddles smilingly to his father, and is pulled up into his arms. She can’t help but look about for Edward, though she knows he isn’t there. He’s with his own household in Ludlow. She hasn’t seen him, or Edmund who is with him, for more than a year. They should all be together now. She lies awake that night, thinking how best to protect them if the worst comes, kicked and bothered by the child still to come.

In the end, she does sleep. When she wakes Richard is gone, the bed beside her cold.