The Murders of Richard III Read Free Page B

descended from an illegitimate child of a king’s younger son. There are a dozen people still alive who have stronger claims than that. The man you succeeded is dead, but he is by no means forgotten, especially in the north of England. You propose to strengthen your claim by marrying young Elizabeth, Richard’s niece, but a lot of people think she is illegitimate; and if she is not, then her brothers, if they are still alive, are the real heirs to the throne. There have been rumors that the boys were killed, but nobody knows for sure what happened to them.
    â€œIf you had been Henry, surely one of your firstmoves would have been to find out the truth about the princes. The Tower of London is in your hands. You would look for those pathetic little bodies, and question the attendants who were on duty when they were killed. The Tower is a huge fortress, full of people—servants and warders and scrubwomen and cooks and officials. There are dozens of people still alive who must know what happened. You can’t eliminate two state prisoners without someone noticing that they have vanished between sunset and sunrise.
    â€œHenry did nothing of the sort. I don’t think he could—because the boys were still alive when Henry entered London in 1485. But they wouldn’t stay alive, not for long.”
    Jacqueline nibbled a piece of bread and butter.
    â€œSomeone confessed to the murder, didn’t he?” she asked tentatively.
    â€œYes—a man named Sir James Tyrrell. Twenty years later, after the supposed murderer had been arrested on another charge. The confession was never published. It was not made public until after Tyrrell’s execution on another charge. The version given in Sir Thomas More’s biography of Richard bristles with contradictions, misstatements, and downright lies. It is such a palpable tissue of—”
    He broke off, eyeing Jacqueline with a suddenwild surmise. She stared owlishly back at him over the rims of her glasses; and Thomas, who seldom did so, swore imaginatively.
    â€œYou know all this! You, who claim to have read every detective story ever printed…Of course you know it. You’ve read The Daughter of Time. ”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThen why didn’t you say so?”
    â€œI lo-o-ove to hear you talk,” said Jacqueline silkily.
    â€œThere are times when I could kill you.”
    â€œI read all Josephine Tey’s mysteries,” Jacqueline said. “ The Daughter of Time is absolutely brilliant. But it’s a novel, not a work of serious history. It is far from unbiased.”
    â€œWhat else have you read?” Thomas asked with resignation.
    Jacqueline reached for the last bun.
    â€œOnce a librarian, always a librarian,” she said, nibbling. “When I read historical fiction I always check to see what’s real and what’s made up. Tey got her material from one of Richard’s apologists, and she is just as biased as the Tudor historians, only on the other side—Saint Richard the Third, full of love and peace and flowers. I read some historical novels about Richard,” she added, finishing the bun with a snap of her white teeth.“Most of them portrayed him as a sensitive martyr, wringing his slender hands and sobbing. I doubt that he cried much.”
    â€œYou are really—”
    â€œSo now we come to the house party,” said Jacqueline. She eyed the crumbs on the empty plate regretfully, and went on, “I assume the party has to do with your hero. What is it, a meeting of some organization? There is a group that is concerned with Richard’s rehabilitation. They call themselves Ricardians, and are not to be confused with the followers of the economist, David Ricardo. They put In Memoriam notices in the Times on the anniversary of the Battle of Bosworth.”
    Jacqueline’s tone gave this otherwise innocuous statement implications that made Thomas’s eyes narrow with