A Dangerous Inheritance

‘In the Croyland Chronicle there is the text of an Act of Parliament of 1484, entitled Titulus Regius; it confirms Richard III’s right to the throne. In it are laid out the grounds of his claim, namely his brother’s precontract with one Eleanor Butler; and it confirms the consequent bastardy of Edward IV’s children by Elizabeth Wydeville.’

‘I still don’t understand the significance,’ I say. ‘Surely that Act was repealed by Henry?’

Sir Edward lowers his voice. ‘I’m sure it was. But it was done discreetly. If you were Henry VII, and your Queen’s legitimacy had been impugned, would you want everyone to know about it? Henry must have known that his claim by blood was weak, and that there were many who would regard it as such until he strengthened it by marrying the Yorkist heiress. He could not afford to have his enemies producing evidence that she was baseborn, and denying his right to rule. So my belief is that he suppressed all copies of Titulus Regius, which is why the Croyland chronicle had to go too.’

This makes good sense. ‘But how did Alderman Smyth come to have it in his possession?’

‘It was in a coffer of old books and papers left him by his grandfather. His family came from Lincolnshire originally, and his great-uncle was a monk at Croyland, which was a mighty abbey in those days. There were two other old chronicles in the chest: Alderman Smyth showed them to me. They were hand-illuminated and very fine. His belief is that his uncle saved them from the King’s men at the time of the Dissolution. They were burning lots of old chronicles then, and most of the monks’ libraries were lost.’

I am too excited to eat. ‘Pray tell me, good Sir Edward, what else is in this chronicle?’

He smiles. ‘Much that isn’t flattering to Richard III. The author disapproved of him thoroughly, thought him dishonest and deceitful, and criticised him for extravagance and sensuality, and even for executing a man on a Sunday. He claims that he himself tried to be fair and unprejudiced, and wrote his history without hatred or favour – and I think he did. He says, for example, that Richard had a quick mind and high courage, and was vigilant in state affairs; and I noted he does not accuse him of murdering Henry VI; instead, he hints that Edward IV was responsible.’

I sigh. ‘It is very confusing, having accounts that contradict each other. The Great Chroniclesaid Richard was there when Henry VI was murdered. How can one ever arrive at the truth?’

‘Ah, my lady, there you have put your finger on the problem with history!’ Sir Edward declares, wiping his fingers on his napkin, then offering me the plate of apples. ‘One has to weigh the sources well, and my belief is that this chronicler was closer to affairs than whoever wrote the Great Chronicle. He had inside knowledge of state matters.’

I crunch into my apple; it’s sweet but a bit shrivelled, the best of the store having been eaten already.

‘Again, I made some notes,’ the Lieutenant says, and produces a sheaf of papers from the capacious pocket of his gown. ‘Croyland believed that Richard was plotting to take the throne from the time he learned of the death of his brother, King Edward. He states that after Richard, Duke of York, had been taken from the sanctuary to join his brother, Richard openly revealed his plans, and he and Buckingham did as they pleased.’

This tallies with Katherine Plantagenet’s account. And there’s another co

‘Richard then acted openly like a king,’ Sir Edward continues, ‘but the Croyland chronicler insists the precontract story was just a colour for his act of usurpation. He implies that many on the Council thought it fraudulent too, but consulted their own safety, warned by the example of Hastings. And so, he writes, Richard occupied the kingdom.’

‘Is there anything about the Princes?’ I ask hopefully.

‘Yes. He says the sons of King Edward remained in custody in the Tower; he mentions them being here under special guard during Richard’s first progress through his realm, which he undertook after his coronation. They remained in the Tower while the coronation, the progress and the investiture of Richard’s son as Prince of Wales were taking place.’

I interrupt: ‘I know who this writer was! He was the Lord Chancellor, the Bishop of Lincoln, who told Katherine that the Princes were alive at the time of the investiture in September.’

‘Of course! Croyland Abbey would have been in his diocese. Katherine wrote that he went back to Lincoln after Henry VII dismissed him.’

‘What else does he say?’

‘He does not mention the Princes again. It is very strange.’

‘But surely a man in his position must have known what became of them? He’d known about their whereabouts up till then.’

‘Well, my lady, if he knew, he wasn’t telling.’

‘It would have been safe to tell in Henry VII’s reign.’

‘Hardly, if the Princes had not been murdered.’

I gape at him. ‘You mean, you think Russell kept silent on the matter of the Princes because he knew they had been sent into hiding?’

‘It’s possible. He knew the Princes were in the Tower up to September, so it follows that he probably knew what happened to them after that. The King trusted him, so he must have been privy to many state secrets. In 1486, when he wrote his chronicle, it would have been perfectly acceptable to accuse Richard of their murder. Russell didn’t scruple to accuse Richard of other crimes or castigate him for his vices, so if he knew or suspected that he had had the Princes put to death, he would surely have said so. But all he says is that Richard suppressed his brother’s progeny. Suppressed, mark you, not murdered. Perhaps Katherine Plantagenet came close to the truth when she wondered if the Princes were at Sheriff Hutton. But if so, what happened to them after Bosworth?’

‘Surely, if they were there, King Henry would have found out about it?’

‘Assuredly he would. Elizabeth of York knew much, I am sure, and maybe that was why she was kept in subjection by the King and his mother.’

‘Sir Edward, I still wonder … If Henry had discovered that the Princes were at Sheriff Hutton, what would have been the logical, nay, the safest thing to do with them?’

The Lieutenant looks hard at me. He says nothing.

‘By vowing to marry their sister, he had effectively acknowledged them to be the legitimate heirs to York. But if they still lived, Edward V was the rightful king. And he would have been fifteen – old enough to rule. Sir Edward, no threat to Henry could have been deadlier.’

‘You forget, my lady, that Henry had the Tower searched for their bodies – three times. And he clearly viewed Perkin Warbeck as a serious threat; for years, Warbeck threatened his throne, and the measures Henry took against him are proof he really did fear that Warbeck was not an imposter. He ca