The Fate of Princes by Doherty Paul

Author:Doherty, Paul [Doherty, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780755395880
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2013-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

I teased with these problems for days and, once Parliament was ended, I returned to the Tower on an overcast, fog-bound day. The mists swirled round the mangonels and war-machines lying derelict in the courtyards. The place was active enough, farriers busy seeing to horses before spring and the fires of the smithies blood-red as they obeyed Richard’s instructions for new culverins, serpentines, bombards and other cannon. I was allowed access through all the gates but a guard stopped me at the entrance to the royal apartments and insisted on escorting me up to Brackenbury’s chamber. The Constable was calmer, more collected, than the last time. He was guarded but at ease. The room was freezing despite the roaring fire and the glittering braziers which had been wheeled into the chamber.

For a few minutes we made desultory conversation. We exchanged civilities and news, discussing common acquaintances at Court and in the recent Parliament, Brackenbury being conspicuous in his absence from both. I studied the man carefully as he chatted, noticing the lines of care around his mouth and deep-set eyes. He knew the rumours. He was Constable of the Tower and the accusation of being a child-murderer does not rest easy, even on the most hardened conscience. Brackenbury sensed my thoughts.

‘You are most welcome, my Lord,’ he said. ‘But you are here about the Princes. How can I help you this time?’

I told him about my meeting with Buckingham and watched his face pale. He seemed to lose his composure at the dead Duke’s claim to have met the Princes not in the White Tower, but here in the royal apartments.

‘The man’s a liar!’ he retorted. ‘He saw them in the Tower. I cannot see why the traitor should have made such a comment. There again he was so full of his own pride as well as wine, he would scarcely know he was in London never mind the Tower!’

‘And have you learnt anything new, Sir Robert, in the last six months? Any rumour, any whisper?’

‘No, nothing.’

I leaned towards him. ‘Sir Robert, I am not your enemy or your judge. But for God’s sake, man, face the problem. You had custody of the two Princes, yet they disappeared. No one saw them leave. There was no attack. How did they escape? What explanation do you have?’

‘I have told you,’ he snapped back. ‘William Slaughter, he knew his way round the Tower. There are still many secret exits and entrances.’

‘Did you know,’ I asked slowly, ‘that Slaughter is dead?’ I held up a hand to fend off his questions. ‘I have seen his corpse, throat slit from ear to ear.’ Brackenbury’s eyes flickered away; he smiled thinly. ‘But that is the explanation,’ he answered. ‘Slaughter took them. He was suborned. He was working for someone else. Once he had carried out their orders . . .’ Brackenbury shrugged, ‘. . . Slaughter was of no use, and what he knew was dangerous so he was killed.’

I considered the possibility. Brackenbury was right.

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