Tales From the Tower of London (8 page)

Strangely, Henry Tudor did not seem concerned about the boys’ fate, nor did he accuse Richard of having done away with them. Had he wanted to, in the absence of the boys themselves, he could have invented any number of stories about their disappearance that would have helped blacken Richard’s name, but he assiduously avoided the subject. This alone is odd, considering the pains he took to accuse Richard of almost every other imaginable crime.

Four years after Henry VII took the throne there were a series of riots in North Yorkshire, which had been Richard’s seat of government during his tenure as the Lieutenant of the North. To quell the riots, Henry selected the Earl of Northumberland; the same man who, along with Lord Stanley, had betrayed Richard at Bosworth. At Cocklodge, just outside the village of Thirsk, Northumberland was set upon by a mob that seized him, drove off his retainers, and meticulously murdered the earl. Obviously there were those who still believed Richard was not the ogre he was being portrayed as by King Henry and the rumourmongers in London.

The next, and possibly the strangest, development in the story came to light with the arrest of Sir James Tyrell, former ‘knight of the body’ to the late King Richard. Arrested on unrelated charges, Tyrell apparently confessed under torture to engineering the murder of the princes. Oddly, his confession was never made public during Henry VII’s lifetime and was only brought to light by Sir Thomas More, during the reign of Henry VIII. According to More, Tyrell said he hired two men, Miles Forest, one of King Edward’s keepers, and a groom named John Dighton, to carry out the murders. Tyrell supposedly obtained a warrant to receive the keys to the Garden Tower from the Tower Governor, Sir Robert Brackenbury, and passed them on to Forest and Dighton. Creeping into the boys’ room late at night, Forest and Dighton smothered them with their pillows, hauled their naked bodies to the Wakefield Tower and buried them under a heap of stones. Supposedly, their bodies were later recovered by a priest and reburied as near to consecrated ground as possible; beneath a staircase leading into the Chapel of St John.

If this evidence was available to Henry VII, it would have provided the ‘smoking gun’ he needed to prove Richard III a child murderer and a usurper. Why did he not use this evidence? There are two possible explanations: (1) he knew it was not true – and we will come back to this possibility later – and (2) he did not know of Tyrell’s confession. Why? Because More invented it years later to vilify Richard?

Sir Thomas More is unquestionably one of the most respected men of the Tudor period, but he was, at least at this time, doggedly devoted to Henry VIII and happy to go to any lengths to slander the Yorkists. Certainly, it was More who first transformed Richard from the physically attractive little man we met earlier into the deformed creature we meet in Shakespeare. More described Richard as ‘little of stature, ill-featured of limbs, crook-backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard favoured of visage. . . . He was malicious, wrathful and envious, from before his birth [and] ever forward.’

At this period, physical deformities were still believed to be a sign of spiritual corruption, and making Richard physically repugnant would have indicated that he was also morally bankrupt. It was almost certainly from More’s malign description that Shakespeare created the psychotic monstrosity who appears in his 1593 play,
A Tragical History of Richard III
. And, as he was writing for another Tudor, Queen Elizabeth, there would have been good reason for the Bard to paint Richard as unpleasantly as possible.

Just as there were people during Richard’s lifetime who never believed his complicity in the boys’ murder, there were also those in the years after his death who defended him. The first accounts protesting his innocence appeared in 1603, immediately after the death of Queen Elizabeth, the last of the Tudor line. By 1684, the ‘Rehabilitate Richard’ movement moved into full swing when William Winstanley wrote of him, ‘this worthy prince [hath] been blasted by malicious traducers, who like Shakespeare in his play of him, render him dreadfully black in his actions, a monster of nature rather than a man of admirable parts’.

But by Winstanley’s time the case against Richard had already taken a turn for the worse. In 1674, nearly two centuries after the disappearance of the princes, workmen were making renovations to the old Royal Apartments near the White Tower. Buried beneath the foundation of a disused staircase they discovered the skeletons of two children. According to the observations made at the scene by John Knight, Principal Surgeon to Charles II, ‘about Ten Feet in the ground were found the Bones of Two Striplings in (as it seem’d) a Wooden Chest, which upon the survey were found proportional to the Ages of those Two Brothers . . . about Thirteen and Eleven Years’.

These were not the first bones of children found buried in the Tower, but they were the only ones corresponding to the approximate ages of the two princes and, to make the case all the more compelling, they had been buried together. Convinced these were the remains of the princes, King Charles commissioned his Surveyor General of Works, Sir Christopher Wren, to design an urn of white marble in which the bones could be placed and moved to Westminster Abbey where, ironically, it was installed in the Chapel of Henry VII. On the urn is engraved an epitaph stating that within are the remains of the lost princes who were murdered in the Tower of London.

There the bones rested until 1933 when the Dean and Chapter of Westminster Abbey granted permission for the urn to be opened and the bones examined. The examination was only marginally more conclusive than the one made when the bones were discovered more than 250 years earlier. It was simply assumed they were male, and at the time there was no test to accurately determine how old the bones actually were. Consequently, they were replaced in the urn. Even if this is accepted as true, we are still left with the mystery of who, exactly, ordered the boys’ death. There are four possible suspects:

Richard III
. Let’s assume for the moment that Richard ordered the murder of his nephews. Why did he never deny the rumours? It would have been easy enough, and far more politically advantageous, to say the boys had simply sickened and died. It was a common enough explanation for an untimely death during the Middle Ages. Having said this, he could have displayed the bodies in public and quashed the rumour mill that was slowly destroying his reputation. It had worked for his elder brother, King Edward IV, when he ordered the murder of his predecessor Henry VI – surely it would have worked for Richard. But the nagging question remains: did Richard have any reason to order their murders?

The Yorkist faction had already accepted that the boys were illegitimate and urged Richard to accept the throne, so neither of the boys presented any political threat to his claim to the throne. Richard was lovingly devoted to his brother, the boys’ father, Edward IV. Would he have killed his nephews out of simple spite?

There were at least nine other legitimate, Yorkist claimants to the crown besides the boys, and three of these were male. One, the young Earl of Warwick (son of Richard’s late brother the Duke of Clarence), was proclaimed heir to the throne by Richard himself. Beyond public rumour, there is no contemporary accusation that Richard was complicit in their death. The boys’ mother, Queen Elizabeth, obviously did not believe Richard was guilty. If she had, would she have sent her daughters to live with him at court?

So, if Richard did not kill the boys, who did? There are three other likely candidates.

Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham
. Buckingham’s position in Richard’s administration is unclear, at best. He apparently came very late as a supporter of Richard, not appearing in the records prior to the incident at Stony Stratford. By all accounts, Buckingham was excessively proud, ambitious and ruthless; the type of man who would do anything to advance himself. If supporting Richard was politically advantageous, fine; if betraying him was more advantageous, that was fine too.

What motive would Buckingham have for murdering the boys? He was a prince of the royal blood and a descendant of Edward III’s youngest son. Could he have had designs on the crown himself? If so, what better way to topple Richard than murder his nephews and let the fall-out undermine Richard’s reputation. Could this have been the impetus for Buckingham’s ill-fated attempt to overthrow Richard in the late summer of 1483?

There is also the possibility that Buckingham was working in league with Henry Tudor and his mother, Margaret Beaufort. Acting as their henchman, he might have ordered the boys’ death in the hope it would make Richard so vulnerable that he could be dethroned. Again, Buckingham’s revolt could have been an attempt to pave the way for Henry.

Having been forced into a dire marriage with a Woodville woman when little more than a child, Buckingham had no love for the Woodville clan. This animosity worsened when vast tracts of the land he owned in Wales were denied to him by the Woodville family’s powerful influence in that area. If he did develop a loathing of the Woodvilles, who better to take it out on than Woodville children? Killing an enemy’s child had already become a tragic part of the Wars of the Roses scenario and the boys were, after all, as much Woodvilles as they were Yorks.

Could it be that Buckingham’s and Richard’s shared hatred of the Woodvilles led the duke to do something dangerously stupid? Might he have murdered the boys on his own initiative in the belief that it would please Richard? If Richard was appalled by the news and threatened to strip Buckingham of his titles and possibly send him to trial, might this have been enough to trigger Buckingham’s revolt? If these were his motives, did he have the means and opportunity? Yes. In his capacity as Constable of England, Buckingham would have had ready access to the Tower at any time.

If we assume that the last reported sighting of the boys took place shortly after Richard’s coronation, that must mean that they disappeared from sight while Richard himself was on progress. Whether Buckingham was with Richard at this time is open to question. If he did not accompany the royal party, he was in London and therefore near the Tower. Even if he was with Richard during the week generally accepted as the time the boys disappeared, 7–14 August, the party was only in Reading and therefore well within a hard day’s ride of London. Of course, all evidence against Buckingham is speculative. And if we assume the boys were not dead by 2 November 1483, Buckingham could not have been directly involved in their deaths. For 2 November was the day Buckingham himself was executed.

There is, however, one more intriguing scenario in which Buckingham stands large. Might he have discovered that Richard had ordered the death of the boys and this alone was enough to mount a revolt – with or without the support of the Lancastrians – designed to overthrow Richard?

Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby
. Finding someone to accuse Margaret Beaufort of almost any crime against the House of York hardly requires the services of a Sherlock Holmes. Margaret was a Stanley. Her husband was the same Lord Stanley thrown into jail by Richard after the council meeting on 20 June, and the same Lord Stanley who betrayed his king at the Battle of Bosworth. How does this implicate her directly in a plot against Richard or his nephews? Lady Margaret Beaufort was not only a Stanley, she was also Henry Tudor’s mother. It was Richard and his brother who had driven her son into exile in 1471 after the Battle of Tewkesbury and her only goal in life was to see her son back in England and on the throne.

Certainly, descriptions of Lady Beaufort meet the profile of a scheming, spiteful matriarch. In his 1646 five-volume
Life of Richard III
, Sir George Buck claimed to have found evidence against Margaret Beaufort in ‘an old manuscript that I have seen’. According to Buck, ‘Doctor Morton and a certain Countess, contriv[ed] the death of Edward V and others, resolv[ing] it by poison.’ Dr Morton is the same Bishop Morton who was arrested at the same council meeting as Lord Stanley. There is no doubt that Morton and the Stanleys would have been in close contact, as they were among the leading Lancastrians in Richard’s court. Buck also suggests that because he was a ‘closet Lancastrian’ Morton served as a go-between for the Stanleys and Buckingham himself – further strengthening the case against Buckingham.

If Margaret Beaufort was already neck-deep in a Lancastrian plot against Richard, and desperate to have her son on the throne, how great a step would it have been to arrange – possibly through Buckingham – to have the boys murdered?

Henry Tudor (Henry VII)
. If Richard III had no legitimate reason for killing his nephews, Henry Tudor had nothing
but
reasons for wanting them dead. Obviously, his primary goal was getting Richard out of the way, but any remaining Yorkist heirs were bound to impede his claim on the throne. Following the Battle of Bosworth he arrested, and later executed, Richard’s hand-picked successor, the Earl of Warwick. Henry took measures to seek out and arrest every Yorkist claimant to the throne, keeping them in close confinement until he could do away with them with the least possible scandal. He even moved against the boys’ mother, Queen Elizabeth, by shipping her off to a convent barely two years after his ascension to the throne.

Why, in light of his endless accusations against Richard, did Henry never mention the death of the boys, even after Sir James Tyrell’s supposed confession? Could it be that Henry knew the truth of the matter and took pains that it remained as quiet as possible? Assuming that Tyrell did confess to the murders as Sir Thomas More claimed, there is another intriguing possibility that bears examining. Could it be that the confession was intended as a smoke-screen to hide the boys’ actual fate and prevent Henry from tracking them down?

There is circumstantial evidence dating from shortly after the boy’s disappearance that they ‘were not indeed murdered but conveyed secretly away, and were yet living’. Contemporary with this rumour is a story, which says, in part, ‘that the princes and their mother Elizabeth Woodville lived in the hall by permission of their uncle’. The ‘hall’ in question is supposedly Gipping Hall near Stowmarket, Suffolk, which at the time was the home of James Tyrell. If this is true, it must have taken place after Elizabeth left the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey and placed her daughters in the custody of Richard. Certainly if she knew her sons were alive it would go a long way to explaining why she trusted Richard with her daughters.