THE PRINCES IN THE TOWER.
When the sons of the fourth Edward and Elizabeth Woodville had been
escorted through London, conducted to the Tower, and given into the
keeping of Sir Robert Brackenbury, the populace saw their faces no more.
According to the chroniclers who wrote in the age of the Tudors, the
young king had, from the time of the arrest of his maternal kinsman at
Stony Stratford, been possessed with vague presentiments; and he no
sooner heard of the usurpation than he revealed the alarm he felt for
his personal safety. "Alas!" exclaimed the boy, on being informed that
Richard was to be crowned, "I would mine uncle would let me enjoy my
life, though I lose my kingdom and my crown."
The lives of the princes might have been spared; but it happened that,
after causing his coronation to be celebrated with so much splendor at
Westminster, Richard undertook a progress to York, to have the ceremony
repeated in the capital of the north. While on his way, Richard learned
that the friends of Elizabeth Woodville were conspiring to deliver the
princes from the Tower, and to place young Edward on the throne. The
usurper, it is said, then resolved on having his nephews put to death
ere they could be used by his enemies to disturb his reign. With this
view, while at Gloucester, Richard dispatched a messenger, named John
Green, to Brackenbury, with instructions to make away with the princes;
but Brackenbury, though elevated to office by Richard, declared that he
must decline the commission.
Richard was at Warwick when this answer reached him; and, on hearing
that Brackenbury was a man who entertained scruples, he exclaimed, with
astonishment, "By St. Paul, whom then may we trust?" He was determined,
however, that the deed should be done, and, while musing over the
matter, bethought him of his Master of the Horse, Sir James Tyrrel, who
was in the next room. This man, a brother, it appears, of the knight of
that name who fell with Warwick at Barnet, was turbulent in spirit, and
so eager for preferment that, in order to make his fortune, he would
shrink from no crime. When, therefore, summoned to the king's presence,
he showed himself even readier to execute the murderous deed than
Richard was to intrust him with the commission.
"Would you venture to kill one of my friends?" asked Richard.
"Yes, my lord," answered Tyrrel; "but I would rather kill two of your
enemies."
"By St. Paul!" exclaimed Richard, "that is the very thing. I want to be
free from dread of two mortal foes in the Tower."
"Open the gates to me," said Tyrrel, "and you will not need to fear
them longer."
Richard, glad to have found a man capable of executing his commission,
gave Tyrrel letters to Brackenbury, commanding that he should be
intrusted with the custody of the Tower and of the princes for
twenty-four hours. Armed with these letters, Tyrrel hied him to London;
and, having freed Brackenbury for a while from the exercise of his
official functions, he enlisted in his service a man named Miles
Forrest, and a sturdy groom named James Dighton. With the aid of these
ruffians, and the sole attendant of the princes, William Slaughter,
whom chroniclers call "Black Will," and emphatically describe as a
"bloody knave," Tyrrel prepared for the murderous deed.
On a summer night--such is the story so often told--the two princes
were sleeping in an upper chamber of the Tower, in that part of the
gloomy strong-hold still pointed out as "the Bloody Tower." Their only
attendant was "Black Will;" but, as clasped in each other's arms they
slept the sleep of boyhood, their very innocence seemed a protection.
While Tyrrel remained outside the door, Forrest and Dighton suddenly
stole into the room, prepared to set about the work of murder. The
spectacle presented would have melted any other than the hardest
hearts; but Forrest and Dighton were so hardened as to be impervious
to emotions of pity, and they proceeded to their task with a shocking
brutality. Wrapping the boys tightly in the coverlet, they placed the
pillows and feather bed over their mouths till they were stifled; and
then, seeing that their innocent souls had departed, laid the bodies on
the bed, and intimated to their employer that all was over.
Tyrrel, on hearing this, entered the room to see with his own eyes that
the horrid commission had been faithfully executed. After satisfying
himself on this point, the unworthy knight ordered the bodies of the
murdered princes to be buried beneath the stair, and hastened back to
inform the king that his nephews slept in Paradise.