It would be a glorious homecoming, Ned told them en route to the Newgate, as Parliament was sitting at Westminster, the king was virtually a prisoner in the royal apartments above, and their father would at last receive the honor and respect due him.

The sun had finally returned for the York siblings as they rode over London Bridge and through the city to be on hand when their father and his retinue of five hundred men entered the gates, and to Dickon seated in front of his magnificent brother, all seemed right with their world.

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Autumn 1460

Londoners loved a procession. They had heard the duke of York was to enter the city that day and so were gathering to watch along the wide Shambles and under the wall of the Franciscan Friary. It was always wise for a leader to show his face in the capital and pay homage, even though Parliament and the king sat at Westminster a little more than a mile away. The citizens had welcomed the lords of Calais five months before, because they, too, were tired of the bad governance of the king and his council, and hoped perhaps the Yorkists would restore prosperity and peace to what had become a lawless land. The duke of York might yet be their savior, but still they were wary. Thus their cheers were less hearty than they might have been had their world not been turned upside down by these warring cousins.

Dickon had never seen the city of London before today, and it overwhelmed his senses. His ears were deafened by the hubbub on the streets: the pealing bells, the clatter of carts, and the barking cries from the hundreds of sellers of foodstuffs peddling their pies, produce and pigs. At the same time the smell of those pies, as well as composting refuse, horse manure and human effluence assailed his nostrils. His eyes took in the colorful clothes of the gentry, the red and black of the clergy, the green of the archers, and the brown of peasants, as well as the array of wares in merchants’ windows tempting buyers inside to buy silk, spices, gold and silver. Dickon had never seen so many people—except on that day in Ludlow when the small town had been overrun by hundreds of soldiers. His thoughts often returned there—almost a year to the day—but now he hoped for peace.