A Dangerous Inheritance

‘It is because of some papers I have,’ I say, and opening my casket, I take out the bundle. ‘I pray you, take them and read them.’

The Lieutenant sits down at the table and unties the ribbon. ‘What are these?’ he asks. ‘Where did you get them?’ I explain about finding them in the tower room at Baynard’s Castle, and offer my theory as to who wrote them.

‘Richard III had a daughter?’ he asks in surprise.

‘Yes, my first husband told me of her. She married one of his forebears. Her name was Katherine.’

‘Well, that is extraordinary.’ He peruses the yellowing pages. ‘These are very old.’

‘Oh yes, Sir Edward. They are too old to pose any threat to the Queen – they are not evidence of any plot!’

He has to smile at my little jest. ‘I should like to read them. May I take them? My duties call me now.’

‘By all means.’

‘I will return them to you when I have finished, and then, perhaps, we may talk again.’

‘I should like that,’ I say. ‘Oh … Sir Edward, before you go – I must ask you something. Have you ever heard voices – children’s voices, I think – calling in the night here?’

He stares at me, astonished. ‘Voices? I don’t think so. What did they say?’

‘Help me. Help us. I have heard them three times now.’

He is at a loss. ‘Perchance it was some voices carrying on the wind. Or perchance you were dreaming, my lady.’ Poor man, he has not the imagination to think of any other explanation.

‘Perchance,’ I agree.

Kate

November 1485. Westminster Palace.

At last, there came a day when William begrudgingly agreed to take Kate with him into London.

‘I miss it so much,’ she’d wheedled. ‘It was one of my great pleasures to go shopping in Cheapside.’ She dared not say she longed to see Crosby Hall just one more time – and in truth, she was not sure how she would feel when she did. It was hard to believe that they were all gone, her father, A

She had never until now so appreciated the freedom she had had back then to wander around London with Mattie. Carefree days, gone forever. She would have loved to visit her grandmother, the Duchess Cecily, at Baynard’s Castle; but William had told her that the Duchess had left London and gone to live out her days at her castle of Berkhamsted. She would be mourning the death of yet another son, of course.

William had hummed and huffed, but in the end he had relented and said that Kate might accompany him. He himself would escort her to Cheapside, and she could make her purchases while he consulted his lawyer in the Temple.

‘But put on your cloak, wife, and pull down the hood. We don’t want you being recognised,’ he fussed.

It was as they were approaching the palace stables, where her litter had been stored alongside their horses, that Kate saw John riding out. She was amazed to see him here. William had told her he was still in hiding, a hunted traitor, so how could he be at Westminster?

She looked up and her hood fell back. Her eyes met John’s in a flash of astonishment, relief and joy, before both looked quickly away. They could not acknowledge each, of course. Kate was not only married, but the object of suspicion in high places, so she knew that any association between them was dangerous. When William turned around, her hood was in place again, and John was trotting off, two grooms riding behind him.

Interlude

September 1561. Whitehall Palace.

‘A son?’ Elizabeth cries in alarm.

‘A bastard, no more,’ Cecil soothes. ‘Remember, they ca

‘It must be proved unlawful,’ the Queen insists, beside herself with agitation. ‘See to it!’

Katherine

October 1561. The Tower of London.

I could not believe it when the Queen’s permission arrived for our babe to be honourably christened. Sir Edward had requested it, out of charity, and his plea was granted without delay. And so I, fresh from my childbed, and privately churched by the Tower chaplain, now find myself standing in the chancel of the chapel royal of St Peter ad Vincula, dressed in the best gown I have with me, and looking across the font at Ned, standing there between two yeomen warders. We are both under guard and not allowed to speak, but our eyes convey all that ca

For this day is one of pain and sadness as well as joy. I am sure that Ned is aware, as I am, that a little way beneath our feet lie the sad remains of those we have loved: his father, my father, and my sister. I had to steel myself to enter this place.

But I must try to be of good cheer: Ned has not yet been attainted, we are both well treated, and our marriage has not been impugned. I try to suppress my indignation against the Queen, who has graciously permitted this ceremony, even though she has not allowed us a minister. Instead, Sir Edward Warner, as sponsor, sprinkles water from the font over our child, baptises him Edward, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and gives him his courtesy title Viscount Beauchamp, which he has by right of being his father’s heir.

That evening, when my young Viscount is sleeping soundly, the Lieutenant presents himself at my chamber door.

‘Your papers, my lady.’ He hands them to me.

‘You have read them, Sir?’

‘I have. It is an extraordinary tale. Shall we discuss it?’

‘I should like to.’

He sits down with me at the table and sends for wine, an unexpected privilege. I suspect he is growing fond of me – in a fatherly way. He is too correct a man for it to be anything else. He has been a prisoner, like me; he understands how I am feeling, and has kept his word to make my stay in the Tower as comfortable as possible. You might say that we have become friends.

‘Katherine wanted to believe that her father was i

‘I was left wondering if she ever found out,’ Sir Edward says. ‘After all, very few people could have known the truth and they weren’t telling.’

‘If there was a murder, it was kept so secret that we still don’t know what really happened, even after all this time. Do you think Katherine was right to believe in her father’s i

‘The fact remains that Richard III never produced the Princes alive to counteract the rumours, or explained their disappearance. Whatever happened to them, he musthave known about it. They were his prisoners, held straitly in the i

‘That name seems as familiar to me as that of Tyrell,’ I interrupt. ‘I have read of them in books, but I’m sure I have seen those names somewhere else. It will come to me soon.’

‘It might be credible that Richard had the boys removed from the Tower in the wake of the conspiracies,’ the Lieutenant says. ‘If no one knew where they were, there could be no further attempts to rescue them. But I still think Richard himself made them disappear.’

‘Could Buckingham could have been involved?’

‘I think not, my lady. Bishop Russell said the Princes were alive in September, but by then, Buckingham was in Wales, miles away. How could he, or any agent of his, have breached the Tower’s security without being discovered? If he had murdered the Princes, the King would certainly have discovered it, and it’s inconceivable he would not have made political capital out of that in the charges against Buckingham. Such knowledge would have been a powerful weapon in his hand.’