The first knight to block Richard’s lethal charge hardly registered with him so intent was Richard on reaching Henry. He brought his hammer up and smashed the man’s skull as though brushing a fly off his nose. The next man thrust a sword at him, and Richard easily parried the blow with the cannon of the lower vambrace of his superior armor, and smote the soldier so hard it knocked him from his horse. Through the slit of Richard’s visor he could see—just as in his dream—Henry cowering behind a giant of a man Richard recognized as Sir John Cheyney. The man measured six-feet eight-inches and was astride a huge courser, but what did it matter? This day belonged to him, Richard knew, and he charged at Cheyney and dealt him such a blow with the spiked end of his war hammer that he pierced Cheyney’s visor, drilled through his eye and into the brain. The giant fell like an English oak, brains spilling white and red onto the boggy ground, the war hammer still impaled in his skull.

As others of Henry’s household realized what was happening, a few rode full tilt towards the scene while the rest barred Rob Percy’s path and killed Richard’s standard bearer. His was a thankless, vulnerable, but honorable duty, as those chosen could not hold both a flag and a sword while handling a destrier. Down went the royal standard just as Richard closed in on Sir William Brandon, Richmond’s own standard bearer. Henry was screaming to his men to protect him when Richard now unsheathed his sword and slew Brandon, the green and white flag with its proud red dragon floating to the ground. His dream was almost a reality as he turned his attention to a hesitant Henry.

Close behind him Richard could hear fighting, and he thought he recognized Rob’s voice, but just as he was attempting to take a run at Henry, White Syrie foundered. The right front hoof of the heavily armed destrier was sucked into the marsh and Richard heard the fearful crack of the animal’s leg bone and knew he would be unhorsed. A random, unwanted thought struck him: where had he heard that sickening sound before? It was forgotten as he threw himself sideways to avoid the horse pinning him under its weight. He fully expected Henry to charge and finish him off, but the man was frozen—whether in shock or fear, Richard would never know, for he himself was now fighting for his life as Lancastrian men-at-arms had reached the scene.