Meeting King Henry for the first time was another vivid memory Dickon carried from that day. Hoping no one would notice him, Dickon had dared to look up into the face of his sovereign. Doesn’t every child imagine his king to look like a warrior or a god? This king looked like a plain man with a kind face. Why, didn’t everyone know that kings should lead their armies, brandishing a weapon, and boasting of victory—someone like King Arthur or even his father? But Dickon had thought this reedy, delicate man looked as though he would have preferred to be anywhere else, even at home in bed. Dickon felt profoundly disappointed. He had heard his father and uncle describe the man as weak, lily-livered, and easily led, but not until that moment had Dickon believed it.

But then the king’s eye had fallen on Dickon’s tear-stained face and his mouth had hardened, and at once Dickon feared for his life. It was in that moment Henry suddenly seemed to awaken to his kingship and, holding himself erect on his horse, he addressed his men: “Turn around!” he thundered. “Disband and return to camp!” It had felt like a miracle to the small boy watching in terror.

Cecily was on her knees, which had finally given way after her brave stand. Henry moved his horse closer, and Dickon stepped forward to protect his mother and glared up at Henry. Henry’s mouth softened into a kind smile, and it was then Dickon knew they were no longer in danger.

“I shall not harm you or your children, Duchess Cecily, you have my word.” The king had stretched out his hand to the courageous woman. “Rise and let us take you all to the safety of my pavilion.” He called to Cecily’s brother-in-law, “Buckingham, take charge of Her Grace and her children. We shall confer at the camp.”

King Henry wheeled his courser around and, with his escort, left the square. They were soon followed by Buckingham’s party, and the little procession, believing their ordeal was over, made its way down the hill, past burning houses, dead and distraught townsfolk, and gawping, drunken soldiers.

But one last tragedy was to play out for the York family that morning.