Dickon pressed on, thinking he might not have another chance like this. Boldly, he asked: “Will you arrange my marriage when I am older? I know I must not marry beneath me.”

York chuckled. “Indeed it is high time your mother and I made provisions for all of you. Ned most certainly should marry soon—he needs to settle down. But the lady has to bring power and wealth with her. We must choose carefully for him.” He looked at the intent young face taking all this in and decided not to complicate things further by mentioning love. He rose to end the interview. “Don’t worry, lad, your turn will come, but I have more important matters to tend to at present. I will think on a suitable match for Edward in the New Year,” he said airily, as if nothing could possibly stop that from happening; after all 1461 was only a few weeks away.

“And now, young Dickon, if you have no more questions, I must attend yet another tedious meeting, much as I enjoyed our little talk. I hope you did, too?”

Dickon solemnly shook his father’s hand. “With all my heart,” he said.

In early December, York was tasked with riding north and bringing order there. In London, a calm had taken hold of the city after the surprising turn of events in the matter of the succession in October. It was a deceptive calm. The Yorkist council was well aware that Queen Margaret was gathering with her allies over the border in Scotland, and they knew the She-wolf would not allow her cub to lose the throne without a fight. But when word reached London that Henry Percy, duke of Northumberland, was raising an army and spreading false rumors about Richard of York, Parliament had had enough. A show of force was needed to keep order and more important, prevent the Percies from joining the queen. Richard was deemed the man for the task.

Once again, Edmund would go with his father, while Edward was being sent west to the Welsh marches where the king’s half-brother Jasper Tudor was brandishing his sword in support of the queen. Salisbury, too, would go with York, leaving Warwick to help govern in London. All knew the Londoners trusted Warwick—if they trusted anyone at all. In truth, Londoners were in an enviable position whether they knew it or not; they ruled themselves, and it was up to the king to treat with them or not. The Yorkists ruled the parliament but Lancastrian Henry was still the king for now. Holding many of the country’s purse strings, bankers and merchants played a waiting game.

Family farewells were beginning to be a normal part of Dickon’s life, but this one was far too soon after the reunion of September, he decided. It didn’t seem fair, but then he was learning that life wasn’t always fair.