It was unusual for a nobleman not to have contracted any of his three older children in marriage by now. York’s long absences from home, in an effort to rid the king of the influence of power-hungry dilettantes along with other worries, had left no time to plan any of his children’s futures. Dickon and George should already have been learning the chivalric arts from a relative or other patron, and Richard and Cecily had preferred to set up the older two boys with their own households at Ludlow under the supervision of a guardian until they came of age.

With strict instructions to keep within Nurse Anne’s earshot, George and Dickon roamed the ramparts, watched the knights at practice, learned the art of wood whittling from idle soldiers, fished from the stew pond, or had their turn with the bow at the archery butts. George was a fine shot, Ned remarked one day when he had tired of the endless parleys of his father, uncle, and cousin of Warwick and had wandered out to coach his young siblings: “But do not discount young Dickon; for all his lack of height and heft, his skill will match yours soon, George.” George had accepted Ned’s compliment gracefully and even nodded an acknowledgment at Dickon for his; it was no hardship when he knew he could always best Dickon at wrestling.

There was something about having so many of their family about them that invigorated the duke and duchess and made this Yorkist stronghold a castle of confidence, despite the threat of attainder hanging over each lord. No one could have imagined the main protagonists being accused of treason for refusing to attend a Great Council in June, for they were some of the most powerful men in England. The truth was the queen had made sure the Yorkists had not been invited. Her influence and that of her closest adherents was creating a weakling of the king. It was to York’s credit that he still believed in Henry’s goodwill and reluctance to fight. And so he persisted in petitioning his sovereign to refute the allegations made by the queen that he, York, was a traitor. Yet, still he was refused an audience as the royal army moved ever closer to Ludlow.

York had taken this opportunity of having all his sons together to instill in them the ideals of chivalry that so governed his own behavior. He had explained patiently to Dickon what the awful word “attainder” inferred. “It means being branded as a traitor. It takes away all your lordly rights. A good man never wants it uttered about himself,” he said at the end of another evening of a father-to-sons’ lecture (at least that was what Ned had disrespectfully dubbed them). “It is a hated word in our family and one I have spent my life trying to live down.”

Dickon’s eyes widened. “Why, Father? What did you do wrong?”