The Fate of Princes Read Free Page A

homesick for the green softness of Minster Lovell. The narrow streets were piled high with refuse which hordes of kites and ravens plundered alongside wandering dogs and naked, filthy children. All was dark, the light being blocked outby the leaning gables and gilt-edged storeys of the narrow houses huddled together as if conspiring to keep out God’s sun. Slowly we made our way through the noisy throng of Cheapside and its concourse of merchants, men whom Richard distrusted. They served their coffers and their purses, eager to obey a crowned ape if he guaranteed their profits. Such men failed us. They were only interested in their robes of velvet and brocade, their blue satin hats turned up at the brim, or their doublets of blue and green. More eager that their shoulders should be padded or the sleeves slashed with silk than for the politics of the realm. Ah, well! I shall not see them again! Time-servers all!
    Eventually we reached Bishopsgate, entering the main courtyard of Crosby Hall, whose roofs towered higher than any other London dwelling. Richard had hired it as his London home.
    Before I left Minster Lovell, he had given me warrants and letters allowing me the use of the chambers and stables, and purveyance. The courtyard was full of masons, carpenters and other workmen. Richard wanted the building extended even further, commissioning no less a person than John Howard, newly created Duke of Norfolk, as surveyor of the works. I was to meet Howard there and take secret council with him over what Richard had told me. However, the Duke was absent and I had to rest content with the jumbled messages of a pompous steward about how and when the Duke would return.
    Leaving Belknap to look after the horses and see to our trunks and caskets, I made my way up to a chamber. I would have liked to have slept but the King had emphasised the urgency of the task entrusted to me, so I refreshed myself with watered ale and sweetmeats, washing the dust from my face with sweet petal-water as I considered what I should do next. I decided on secrecy and left Crosby Hall only with Belknap,instructing him not to display my emblem or livery. As Richard’s chamberlain, I was well-known in the city and people would whisper about my secret return. Moreover, the King had his enemies, agents of Henry Tudor and other silent malignants, only too pleased to strike at Richard’s trusted friend and counsellor, or so I thought myself.
    I made my way down to the river, planning to travel to Westminster along the dark sweeping curve of the Thames. Belknap hired a boat and soon we were mid-stream. We rowed through the fast currents which roared past the white pillars of London Bridge, still blackened by the attack of the Bastard of Fauconberg, in those heady days when the House of York still struggled to survive. Around us other wherry boats scurried across the water like flies over a village pond. Belknap told the boatman to keep away from the gorgeous bannered barges of the merchants and other nobles, men who might well recognise me.
    At last we came in sight of Westminster Palace, sheltering under the lee of the great abbey. A welcoming sight. The gables, towers, battlements, steep roofs and arched windows of its buildings swept down towards the waterside. The boatman pulled in towards the shore, close to the palace wall which was protected by dense thickets and bushes. We rowed past the King’s stairs near the main wharf, landing at the Abbot’s Steps and making our way stealthily up to the palace. We ignored the clerks, officials, receivers and sheriffs’ men, using the tumult and shouts of the pastrycooks who always throng there to slip quietly into the great hall. I left Belknap staring up at its beautiful wooden roof supported by sprung beams borne on the backs of angels, so exquisitely carved they seemed in flight. My head down, concealed by a hood, I pushed my way through courtiers, servants, red-capped judges and lawyers who, despite the