The Fate of Princes Read Online Free PDF Page B

weeks later. I did my formal round tour of the Tower. I went to the Princes’ chamber but it was deserted.’ Brackenbury stopped speaking and chewed his lower lip. ‘No gaoler, no boys. Nothing seemed touched. Clothing, bolsters, blankets. Nothing was missing except a set of garments for each of the boys.’
    ‘And the previous time?’
    ‘You mean the second time I saw them?’
    ‘How were the children? You saw them?’
    ‘They seemed well enough. Happy enough in the circumstances.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Sir Robert positively squirmed in his chair, his face paler, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.
    ‘In the circumstances,’ he said bleakly. ‘For God’s sake, man, they were mere bairns. They missed their mother, their sisters. They were frightened.’
    ‘Of what?’
    ‘Of what might happen to them.’ Brackenbury heaved a sigh. ‘That is why I kept my visits so rare. They were secure enough. I could not help them. I am a soldier, not a gaoler. I excused myself under the pretence that there was more in the Tower than just two princes who were well looked after.’ Sir Robert pausedand wiped his brow with the cuff of his jerkin before continuing. ‘I hated visiting them.’
    ‘They were kept well?’
    ‘Of course. They wanted for nothing.’
    ‘Except their freedom?’
    ‘Except their freedom,’ Brackenbury snapped back. ‘But I was under orders.’ He leaned forward. ‘Remember, Lovell, we both serve the King. It was Richard who ordered his nephews kept close.’
    ‘Their servants?’ I said coolly, ignoring his distress.
    ‘Once they had been moved from the Garden Tower, before I became Constable, their servants were dismissed?’
    ‘So who looked after them?’
    ‘A varlet named William Slaughter.’
    ‘Who was he?’
    ‘I do not know. I simply received instructions from the King that all their servants were dismissed except for Slaughter, or Black Will as he was commonly called.’
    ‘An ominous name.’
    ‘Oh, he was friendly enough. A young man, in about his twentieth summer. Small, rather plump, sandy-haired and cheery-faced. His appearance belied his name.’
    ‘So why the Black?’
    ‘He constantly wore black clothing. An affectation, but the young princes seemed to like him well enough.’
    ‘Was Slaughter from the Tower garrison?’
    ‘No,’ Brackenbury replied. He rose and wiped his face with a damp towel. Only then did he pour me a goblet of wine, thick, red and heady. I sipped it gratefully, allowing Brackenbury some respite from my constant questioning.
    ‘Slaughter,’ Brackenbury continued, ‘was from one of the household retinues.’
    ‘Whose?’ I asked. ‘The King’s? Buckingham’s?’
    Brackenbury rose again and went to a small leathercoffer, one of many stacked against the far wall. He opened it, pulled out a roll of vellum which he unfolded and studied for a while.
    ‘No,’ he replied slowly. ‘From the accounts of the Treasurer here, Slaughter had been in the retinue of the Duke of Norfolk.’ Brackenbury clicked his fingers. ‘Yes, he was Howard’s man. I remember the children used to mimic his countrified tongue and strange accent.’ Brackenbury shrugged. ‘But Slaughter, too, has disappeared.’
    I sipped again from the wine-cup. Brackenbury was obviously agitated. Indeed, up to his violent death he remained a distressed, anxious man, wrestling with his own nightmares. Now I only wished he had been truthful then and not left it too late. Perhaps something could have been done. Yet, he was a brave swordsman. He was one of the last to die. God save his soul!
    On that mist-laden morning, however, neither of us had a glimpse of the future, even though what we were discussing would be the harbinger of all our fates. I remember asking Brackenbury about any visitors seeing the young boys.
    ‘Only two,’ Brackenbury replied. ‘The first was the Duke of Norfolk, shortly after the coronation. He came to see the Duke of York.’
    ‘You attended the