The Plantagenet Vendetta (25 page)

34

For several seconds Thomas failed to speak.

“Richard of Shrewsbury was m-murdered in 1483.”

“No, Tom, the Duke of York disappeared in 1483,” Wilson retorted. “Along with his brother, I might add. The debatable King Edward V.”

“The Princes in the Tower,” Thomas said, exasperated.

“Or as they were known to most people, Prince Edward and Prince Richard,” Wilson said.

Thomas shook his head. “The Princes in the Tower were murdered.”

“Says who, exactly?”

Thomas simply stared at his former personal tutor. “Croyland, Thomas More, Dominic Mancini…”

“Philippe de Commines,” Ainsworth interjected.

“Ten out of ten on the choice of your sources, both of you, but just because someone says they were murdered does not make it so.”

“Meaning what?” Thomas asked.

“Meaning exactly what I say.”

“You suggest otherwise?”

“I suggest nothing, only that you must question every angle as opposed to relying on hearsay.”

“Damn it, Patrick,” the prince shouted, the sound of his voice echoing, “why must you always speak in riddles.” He breathed deeply to control himself.

“Sorry.”

For several seconds all was quiet.

“What’s the significance?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing,” Wilson said. “For all we know, the document is a forgery.”

“You believe it to be so?”

“I do not believe either way.”

A thought occurred to Thomas. “Even if the princes were not m-murdered, they had been declared illegitimate.”

“By who?”

“By common council.”

Wilson nodded. “Titulus Regius. The only Act of Parliament of Richard III’s two-year reign.”

Thomas nodded. “Exactly.”

“Denounced during the reign of Henry VII, who later married the boys’ sister, I might add.”

Thomas was aware that was correct. Historically, Edward IV had gone against usual protocol and chosen a commoner for his wife: Elizabeth Woodville, famed for her beauty. The marriage catapulted the family into brilliant success at court. When Edward IV died, the scene was set for his son, Edward, to take the throne.

Until the revelation, later denounced, that the king had already been married, resulting in his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville being declared null and void.

“In any case, how could Richard of Shrewsbury be heir to Richard III? For that to happen, his brother must have been murdered.”

“No, for that to happen, Edward must have been dead,” Wilson replied, now smiling. “As for their uncle, his only legitimate son had died.”

Thomas was now riled. “You said earlier he might have had another son.”

“Indeed, he may. In fact, the document goes on to suggest that the son of the Flemish girl, in turn, would be next in line after Shrewsbury; the dispute over his own legitimacy on this occasion acknowledged.”

Ainsworth smiled. “If the document is genuine, there is reason to believe that this was in fact an addendum to Titulus Regius. Unfortunately we don’t know for sure because no copy of Titulus Regius has been found.”

“They were all destroyed on the orders of Henry Tudor,” Wilson added.

Thomas breathed out forcefully. “You suggest the document implies Richard III succeeded Edward f-fairly and Richard of Shrewsbury would reign as Richard IV. You think Richard III only reigned because the Duke of York was a minor?”

The thought seemed plausible to Wilson. “Perhaps, but you are forgetting, Henry Tudor won the Battle of Bosworth.”

Thomas nodded. “Exactly. The document became irrelevant.”

Wilson seemed to agree. “Unless…”

Thomas’s patience was almost gone. “Unless?”

Wilson looked at Ainsworth. “Would you care to explain this one to His Highness?”

Thomas looked at the other historian.

“Unless Richard of Shrewsbury had already been crowned joint king alongside his uncle.”

At around that time in the restaurant of a luxury hotel in the city of London, a dark-haired man dressed in a fine suit watched from his seat by the window as the distinguished guest sitting seven tables away displayed his discomfort. As the seconds passed, his face became evidently more flushed.

The man was clearly experiencing something of a tightening sensation in the chest region.

He departed unseen just before the sound of a crash attracted the attention of astounded onlookers.

35

For several seconds Thomas said nothing. “How exactly?”

Wilson cleared his throat. “According to the typical history book, on the death of King Edward IV, the throne of England was set to pass to his eldest son and heir, now King Edward V. However, as the new king was only a minor, he would require the assistance of a regent.”

“Richard III,” Thomas said.

“Brother of the late king, at that time Duke of Gloucester and commander of the king’s armies in the north,” Wilson agreed. “Now, as you are undoubtedly aware, Tom, following the death of King Edward IV, preparations were put in place for the coronation of his son, to be crowned King Edward V, with his uncle Richard, Duke of Gloucester, taking on the role of the king’s protector.

“Within a month of his father’s death, the prince had arrived in London to take up residence within the Tower of London – which at the time, of course, was normal, being a royal residence. In June, the king-in-waiting was joined by his younger brother, Richard of Shrewsbury, while the protector continued to make preparations for the young king’s coronation. Yet, within a week, the young boys were declared illegitimate, later confirmed by Act of Parliament.”

“Titulus Regius,” Thomas repeated.

“The very same,” Wilson replied. “You clearly know your family history.”

“Not really. I know the facts, yes, not the reasons.”

“I daresay you are not alone,” Ainsworth said. “Even at the time, the reasons given were weak to say the least.”

“R-remind me. Why were the princes declared illegitimate?”

The man from Magdalen smiled wryly. “Because according to the account of one eyewitness–”

“Stillington,” Wilson said.

“Yes, Stillington, the king had already been married prior to his wedding to Elizabeth Woodville – thus rendering the whole thing null and void.”

The prince knew the gist. “Who was she?”

“Who?”

“The first wife.”

“According to the Croyland Chronicle, of which few copies survive, its author had seen Titulus Regius and made a note of its content. The woman mentioned was Lady Eleanor Talbot,” Wilson said.

Thomas remembered his conversation with his father the day before. “Tell me about her. And who was Stillington?”

“Lady Eleanor Talbot, or Dame Butler, as she was following her marriage,” Ainsworth began, “was a daughter of John Talbot, the 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, and later wife of Sir Thomas Butler, the son of Lord Sudeley. Eleanor was evidently something of a beauty and may have been the mistress of Edward IV.”

“Stillington, on the other hand,” Wilson took over, “was the Bishop of Bath and Wells – and a devout Yorkist. According to the French chronicler and diplomat Philippe de Commines in June 1483, Stillington had presided over the marriage agreement between the king and Eleanor Talbot, thus making the later marriage between Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville null and void.”

“When was the marriage?”

“History is vague on the matter,” Wilson said.

“Talbot herself died in 1468,” Ainsworth said, “so it couldn’t have been recent.”

Thomas scratched his chin. “Why did it take over fifteen years for this to come to light?”

“Because, my dear boy, the case didn’t hold water.”

“You think it was a lie?”

“Of course it was a lie. Henry VII himself repealed the act.”

“You think that Richard III just w-wanted the throne for h-himself?”

Ainsworth leaned back slightly in his chair. “The only possible evidence before 1483 is an event that took place in 1478. Stillington himself spent several weeks in jail during that year, apparently as a result of some association with the king’s brother, the Duke of Clarence–”

“No relation to you, of course, old boy,” Wilson said.

Thomas was aware that Clarence had been executed for conspiring against his brother, Edward IV.

Ainsworth grinned. “It has been suggested that Stillington passed on information about the king’s first wedding to Clarence.”

“If Clarence had still been alive in 1483, wouldn’t that have made him heir?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, it would,” Wilson agreed. “At least after the princes.”

Thomas was starting to become rattled. “This makes no sense; surely there must have been eyewitnesses.”

“There was – Stillington.”

Thomas looked at Wilson. “Any more?”

“No.”

“Hence why it was later repealed,” Ainsworth added. “Stranger still, when the charlatan Lambert Simnel came on the scene in 1487 claiming to be Clarence’s son, Stillington himself became involved in the plot against Henry Tudor.”

Thomas breathed in deeply. He was vaguely familiar with the Simnel fiasco. A charlatan pretending to be the new Earl of Warwick, intent on reclaiming the throne from the Tudor pretender.

Thomas’s attention returned to the document in front of them. “But according to this, Richard of Shrewsbury was still alive?”

“Yes,” Ainsworth agreed, “according to this.”

“You still don’t think that it’s g-genuine?”

“I told you before, it hasn’t been studied in enough detail,” Wilson replied.

“When could the coronation have taken place?”

“Any time,” Wilson replied, “could even have been the same day as Richard III.”

“According to one source, Richard had a second coronation in York.”

Thomas bit his lip. “Wait a moment, the princes were found and buried in Westminster Abbey.”

“No, old boy, two bodies were found and assumed to be the princes, and buried in Westminster Abbey.”

“They certainly fit the profile,” Ainsworth said, “and DNA testing in the 1930s confirmed that the skeletons were of the correct ages.”

“It confirmed the bloodline?” Wilson asked, quite obviously rhetorically.

“You know it didn’t – the technology wasn’t available.”

“Which just about proves my point,” Wilson argued. “The skeletons could be anyone’s.”

Thomas decided to take a backseat as the discussion turned into an academic arm wrestle.

“The casket containing the bodies was discovered just where Thomas More said they were.”

“Actually, the coffin was found where More said it had been originally,” Wilson corrected. “According to More, it was moved outside.”

“Perhaps there was more than one source.”

“All the more reason for doubting.”

“How do you explain the purple velvet that was found in the coffin?”

“There could be a number of reasons.”

Ainsworth was unconvinced. “Purple at the time was the colour associated with the king – you know that.”

“My dear fellow, do use your common sense. For all we know, that piece of velvet could have been put there deliberately so that people would think it was the princes.”

“Then why hide the bodies so well?”

Wilson sought to reply, but the ringing of Thomas’s mobile phone broke his concentration. The prince apologised to both and made his way to the corner of the room.

“Hello?

“Yes…

“What?

“When?”

The prince stuttered uncontrollably.

“Of course…”

Thomas disconnected the call.

“Forgive me, gentlemen, I’m needed back in London.”

Less than five minutes later, Thomas was back in his car, heading east out of Oxford.

As soon as he was in free-flowing traffic out of the city, he selected a call on his mobile phone.

After several rings a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Stephen, we’re needed back in London…

“The Duke of York’s been taken to hospital. They think he’s been poisoned.”

36

To Jen, the next thirty minutes were something of a blur. Incredibly the camera still worked; if it had belonged to who she thought it had once belonged to, it had probably been lying in the vault for almost a year. The battery gauge was flashing red, signalling the charge was almost at an end.

At least this camera took AA batteries.

There were well over a thousand photographs on the memory card, the oldest dating back sixteen months. The earlier ones were of girls and boys, probably aged around fifteen or sixteen, adding weight to her theory that the camera belonged to Debra Harrison. Harrison wasn’t in any of them; most likely she was the person holding the camera. Anthea was in one or two, as were some other girls she hadn’t met. One appeared regularly; Jen assumed it was Stephanie Stanley, Debra’s best friend who had taken the news particularly badly. Jen still hoped to interview her.

At least off the record.

Jen scanned through the majority of the images before returning to the most recent. The last forty were all of St Michael’s; the last twenty inside the vaults.

The final five were all from the Jeffries’ vault. Two of the photos were blurred, but the other three were all clear and sharp. Jen recognised one of the effigies in the middle of the vault, a member of the Jeffries family who had become a Member of Parliament.

After taking in the detail, Jen looked back at the previous thirty pictures, most of which were of the old priory. She was still to see the ruins herself, as technically it was situated on private property.

Evidently, Debra Harrison had been granted quite a privilege.

Five photos were of locations she didn’t recognise. They had definitely been taken somewhere inside the vaults, but she was certain they included nothing she had seen before. As best she could tell, the chamber was larger than the Jeffries’ vault, but also darker. There were several tombs, the designs more elaborate than the ones she had seen so far. On top of each tomb was an effigy: a figure lying on his back and carrying a sword between two closed hands.

Yet it was impossible to see much detail, so bad was the light. Whatever it was, the person who took the photos clearly thought it important enough to capture.

Now Jen had a new theory. Whoever was buried behind the locked door, it probably didn’t include Debra Harrison.

But whoever they were, they certainly weren’t plague victims.