knights of the realm: William Catesby and Richard Ratcliffe. Catesby was Speaker of the House of Commons, and Ratcliffe was one of the Commissioners of Peace with Scotland. It's odd how the very sound of words makes a political jungle vicious. The Hog of course was Richard's badge. The White Boar. Do you frequent our English pubs?"
"Sure. They're one of the things I think you do better than us."
"You forgive us our plumbing for the sake of the beer at the Boar."
"I wouldn't go as far as to say I forgive it. I discount it, shall we say?"
"Magnanimous of you. Well, there's something else you've got to discount. That theory of yours that Richard hated his brother because of the contrast between his beauty and Richard's hunchbacked state. According to Sir Cuthbert, the hunchback is a myth. So is the withered arm. It appears that he had no visible deformity. At least none that mattered. His left shoulder was lower than his right, that was all. Did you find out who the contemporary historian is?"
"There isn't one."
"None at all!"
"Not in the sense that you mean it. There were writers who were contemporaries of Richard, but they wrote after his death. For the Tudors. Which puts them out of court. There is a monkish chronicle in Latin somewhere that is contemporary, but I haven't been able to get hold of it yet. One thing I have discovered though: that account of Richard III is called Sir Thomas More's not because he wrote it but because the manuscript was found among his papers. It was an unfinished copy of an account that appears elsewhere in finished form."
"Well!" Grant considered this with interest. "You mean it was More's own manuscript copy?"
"Yes. In his own writing. Made when he was about thirty-five. In those days, before printing was general, manuscript copies of books were the usual thing."
"Yes. So, if the information came from John Morton, as it did, it is just as likely that the thing was written by Morton."
"Yes."
"Which would certainly account for the —the lack of sensibility. A climber like Morton wouldn't be at all abashed by back-stairs gossip. Do you know about Morton?"
"No."
"He was a lawyer turned churchman, and the greatest pluralist on record. He chose the Lancastrian side and stayed with it until it was clear that Edward IV was home and dried. Then he made his peace with the York side and Edward made him Bishop of Ely. And vicar of God knows how many parishes besides. But after Richard's accession he backed first the Woodvilles and then Henry Tudor and ended up with a cardinal's hat as Henry VII's Archbishop of —"
"Wait a minute!" said the boy, amused. "Of course I know Morton. He was Morton of 'Morton's Fork.” You can't be spending much so how about something for the King; you're spending such a lot you must be very rich so how about something for the King.' "
"Yes. That's Morton. Henry's best thumb-screw. And I've just thought of a reason why he might have a personal hatred for Richard long before the murder of the boys."
"Yes?"
"Edward took a large bribe from Louis XI to make a dishonourable peace in France. Richard was very angry about that —it really was a disgraceful affair—and washed his hands of the business. Which included refusing a large cash offer. But Morton was very much in favour both of the deal and the cash. Indeed he took a pension from Louis. A very nice pension it was. Two thousand crowns a year. I don't suppose Richard's outspoken comments went down very well, even with good gold for a chaser."
"No. I guess not."
"And of course there would be no preferment for Morton under the straight-laced Richard as there had been under the easy-going Edward. So he would have taken the Woodville side, even if there had been no murder."
"About that murder —" the boy said; and paused.
"Yes?"
"About that murder —the murder of those two boys—isn't it odd that no one talks of it?"
"How do you mean; no one talks of it?"
"These last three days I've been going through
"Sure. They're one of the things I think you do better than us."
"You forgive us our plumbing for the sake of the beer at the Boar."
"I wouldn't go as far as to say I forgive it. I discount it, shall we say?"
"Magnanimous of you. Well, there's something else you've got to discount. That theory of yours that Richard hated his brother because of the contrast between his beauty and Richard's hunchbacked state. According to Sir Cuthbert, the hunchback is a myth. So is the withered arm. It appears that he had no visible deformity. At least none that mattered. His left shoulder was lower than his right, that was all. Did you find out who the contemporary historian is?"
"There isn't one."
"None at all!"
"Not in the sense that you mean it. There were writers who were contemporaries of Richard, but they wrote after his death. For the Tudors. Which puts them out of court. There is a monkish chronicle in Latin somewhere that is contemporary, but I haven't been able to get hold of it yet. One thing I have discovered though: that account of Richard III is called Sir Thomas More's not because he wrote it but because the manuscript was found among his papers. It was an unfinished copy of an account that appears elsewhere in finished form."
"Well!" Grant considered this with interest. "You mean it was More's own manuscript copy?"
"Yes. In his own writing. Made when he was about thirty-five. In those days, before printing was general, manuscript copies of books were the usual thing."
"Yes. So, if the information came from John Morton, as it did, it is just as likely that the thing was written by Morton."
"Yes."
"Which would certainly account for the —the lack of sensibility. A climber like Morton wouldn't be at all abashed by back-stairs gossip. Do you know about Morton?"
"No."
"He was a lawyer turned churchman, and the greatest pluralist on record. He chose the Lancastrian side and stayed with it until it was clear that Edward IV was home and dried. Then he made his peace with the York side and Edward made him Bishop of Ely. And vicar of God knows how many parishes besides. But after Richard's accession he backed first the Woodvilles and then Henry Tudor and ended up with a cardinal's hat as Henry VII's Archbishop of —"
"Wait a minute!" said the boy, amused. "Of course I know Morton. He was Morton of 'Morton's Fork.” You can't be spending much so how about something for the King; you're spending such a lot you must be very rich so how about something for the King.' "
"Yes. That's Morton. Henry's best thumb-screw. And I've just thought of a reason why he might have a personal hatred for Richard long before the murder of the boys."
"Yes?"
"Edward took a large bribe from Louis XI to make a dishonourable peace in France. Richard was very angry about that —it really was a disgraceful affair—and washed his hands of the business. Which included refusing a large cash offer. But Morton was very much in favour both of the deal and the cash. Indeed he took a pension from Louis. A very nice pension it was. Two thousand crowns a year. I don't suppose Richard's outspoken comments went down very well, even with good gold for a chaser."
"No. I guess not."
"And of course there would be no preferment for Morton under the straight-laced Richard as there had been under the easy-going Edward. So he would have taken the Woodville side, even if there had been no murder."
"About that murder —" the boy said; and paused.
"Yes?"
"About that murder —the murder of those two boys—isn't it odd that no one talks of it?"
"How do you mean; no one talks of it?"
"These last three days I've been going through
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