“How dare you!” he roared at his son. “Retreat now offers us our only chance of reorganizing. We go now or our cause is lost.” Dickon watched in awe as Ned tried to stare his father down in the silence that followed, glad he was not in Ned’s shoes. The defiance lasted a few seconds before Ned respectfully bowed his head. Lucky for Edward, York’s anger never lasted long—it could be fearsome but mercifully short, as all his sons knew. In a more moderate tone, the duke now addressed his brother-in-law. “My lord of Salisbury, you will return with Warwick to Calais and take Edward with you. Rutland will come with me. If we are split, perhaps we will confuse the queen. I fear most of us will be attainted anyway, but let us bide our time until the moment is ripe to return.”

Dickon’s heart sank. Edmund was to flee, too. Where would he and his siblings go? In his desolation he jumped up and cried: “What about us? What about George and Meggie and me?”

No one had noticed the boy slip in with Constance and thus all heads turned to look at him now. Cecily and Constance both grasped an arm and tried to pull him back down between them. At any other time he would have realized the rashness of his act, but he was desperate, and so he wrenched his arms free and stood his ground. “George and I can fight too, my lord. I am skilled with the bow, and George has his own shortsword…” his voice faltered when he saw Ned’s warning frown.

Richard of York, however, was filled with pride. He went to Dickon, led him by the shoulders and presented him to the commanders, who were clearly taken with the boy’s audacity. Had it been any other time, they would probably have been amused, but as all of their lives hung in the balance, they simply stared, and Salisbury shook his head at York’s parental indulgence.

“Can we be serious, Your Grace,” he said. “We do not have much time.”

“He is my son, my lord, and has a right to know.” York held fast to Dickon and thrilled his son by whispering, “Well done, lad.”

Emboldened by his little brother’s courage, Edmund now spoke up. “I crave your pardon, Your Grace, but Dickon is right. What plans have you made for my mother, and my brothers and sister? Will they go with us to Ireland?”

Dickon nodded vigorously. That is what he wanted with all his heart. Take me with you, Father, he wanted to shout.