—DIANA,
PRINCESS OF WALES
12
Tower of London
“It was originally a fortress, dating back to Roman times,” Hall told Marlowe as the Rolls arrived at the infamous tower. “It’s housed the nation’s gold and the crown jewels, it’s survived attacks by terrorists, revolutionaries, and Nazi bombs, but the Tower of London is probably most famous as a prison and for its escapes.”
“Didn’t Mary, Queen of Scots, lose her head here?”
“Actually, she was held prisoner here, I believe, but her head was removed at Fotheringhay Castle near Peterborough. But many other famous heads and souls were severed here, Anne Boleyn, one of Henry the VIII’s doomed wives, Sir Walter Raleigh, the conspirator Guy Fawkes, Sir Thomas More, who refused to recognize old Henry as head of the Church of England and whom the Pope later canonized. I’m sure there’s a list posted somewhere for tourists. Also, there are the ghosts.”
“Of course, there is always one in a haunted castle.”
“This one has several dozen, I’m afraid. The most notorious is Catherine Howard, the fifth wife of Henry VIII. Catherine was only about twenty when she married the king. After just over a year, he found out she had had premarital relations with other men. He had her and two of her former lovers beheaded.”
“He had her executed for having lovers before marriage?”
“He probably got tired of her and having her head chopped off was an easy way out. There is a tradition that she haunts both Hampton Court, a palace where she tried to escape her captors, and the Tower of London, where she was executed.” He pointed at one of the twelve towers of the castle. “That one is known as the Bloody Tower. It’s said that the boy-king Edward V and his brother, Richard, the Duke of York, were murdered there.”
“Why?”
“Edward was twelve or thirteen and had inherited the throne. No one knows for sure who had him and his brother killed, probably Richard III or Henry VII, who defeated Richard and grabbed the throne. Anyway, the boy-king is occasionally seen wandering around, looking for his murderer. He probably bumps into Anne Boleyn, another of Henry’s wives who lost her head here. And Lady Jane Grey, who at sixteen years old was to be queen for all of nine days before Henry VIII’s daughter, Mary Tudor, had her head whacked.”
“Charming family history, isn’t it? Anyone ever escape from the Tower?”
“Quite a number, actually. Two or three men in female clothes smuggled in by their wives slipped passed the guards, who thought they were visitors leaving.”
Hall pointed at an imposing building. “The princess is being held in Queen’s House on Tower Green. It’s usually the residence of the governor who administers the yeoman warders we call beefeaters, much to their chagrin. It’s been furnished and guarded for her stay,” Hall said. “You can imagine the quandary of the police and the Royals in regard to holding her for trial. They couldn’t just stick her in the regular jail. The security problems would have been overwhelming. And despite any ill feeling the queen has for her, she wouldn’t want to set a precedent of having a Royal locked up like the rest of us.”
“Us unwashed masses.”
“Exactly.”
They passed guards wearing the colorful traditional uniform of beefeaters, but Marlowe noticed there were numerous armed uniformed guards and men hanging around whom she took to be plainclothes officers.
“Royal Protection officers,” Hall said. “As you probably know, most London police officers are not armed. Special Branch and the officers assigned to protect the Royals are. There’s a unit of commandos stationed here, too. The killing of the prince has whipped emotions in the country to a frenzy. Some people say off with her head—and about every day the Yard discovers another plot by her admirers to break her out of the Tower.”
“I suspect she’s the most popular woman on earth. At least she was up to the shooting.”
They passed a man feeding a flock of large black birds. “The raven master. Ravens with clipped wings are kept on the Tower grounds. We have a traditional belief that if the ravens ever leave the Tower, the fortress would crumble and the nation fall.”
While they showed identification and waited to be processed, Marlowe brought up what she knew would create a riff with Hall.
“After introductions are made, I will need to speak to the princess alone.”
The young barrister was startled. “That can’t be done. Sir Fredic must be there. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Why does he have to be there?”
“He’s the instructing solicitor, the attorney who hired Trent. It’s not ethical for a barrister to meet with a client except in the presence of the instructing solicitor.”
“Who’s in charge of the case, Trent or Sir Fredic?”
“Trent is in charge of the trial, but you need to understand the relationship between a solicitor and a barrister.”
“You can fill me in later. Right now I have to see the princess and I’m going to see her alone.”
“I told you that it’s not—”
“Philip, I’m not a barrister, I’m an American trial lawyer, I was hired privately by the princess, I don’t answer to an instructing solicitor or a managing barrister or anyone else. I realize Mr. Trent doesn’t think my leash should extend beyond his reach, but I was hired by the princess and there are matters that have to be discussed privately with her. It’s not arguable, it’s simply how it will be handled. I will speak to her alone.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Hall said rather stiffly.
She grabbed his arm and squeezed it as a gesture to create a friendly connection through touch. “I’m sorry, the leash remark was uncalled-for, I forget how reserved and polite you British are. But you and I know that there was a reason the princess hired me directly rather than going through her own attorneys.”
“And that reason is?”
Marlowe smiled. “I don’t know, but I won’t find out if I can’t speak to her alone, can I? I’m not trying to cause trouble, but I have to insist.”
“No problem, I will excuse myself and wait outside for Sir Fredic, to advise him of your wishes.”
“Thanks. Again, I don’t mean to be ornery.”
“It’s no more than what I would expect from a pushy American lawyer.” He said it with a smile.
“But, of course, we Americans are pushy and loud and you British are all so reserved and polite,” she said, “but that’s nonsense, isn’t it? You people have ruled half of the world with an iron fist and you’ve had sex scandals that have rocked your whole nation. Not to mention the present matter.”
They were led into a sitting room by a woman who had identified herself as a secretary to the princess, but whom Marlowe took to be a jail matron.
“Her Royal Highness will be with you shortly.”
The Princess of Wales came in a moment later. She was blond, tall, about five-nine, slender, but rather large-boned. Attractive, not unlike an American’s concept of the prototype blond, clean-cut, ruby-cheeked Iowa farm girl, but the princess was not a great beauty, not a Princess Grace. As Marlowe had heard a British friend once say about herself, she was no oil painting.
She smiled at Hall. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hall.”
He gave her more of a polite nod than a bow. “Your Royal Highness. May I present Marlowe James.”
She held out her hand to Marlowe. “So kind of you to come.”
“It was, uh, kind of you to ask,” Marlowe fumbled. Was she supposed to curtsy or something?
They exchanged firm handshakes. Marlowe’s father had taught her to grip a person’s hand firmly when shaking it, and not offer the limp fish that so many people do. Someone had taught the Princess of Wales the same thing, she thought.
“May I offer tea or coffee?” the princess asked.
“Is it all right if I be pardoned?” Hall asked. “I have an urgent telephone call to make.”
Hall fled and Marlowe and the princess exchanged small
talk about Marlowe’s flight and the weather as a servant brought in drinks and sweetcakes. The refreshment was served in fine china on exquisite linen. The princess drank coffee while Marlowe took tea with cream. Marlowe suppressed a grin at the irony of a prisoner and her attorney in a murder case being served tea and crumpets—she usually considered herself lucky when she could speak to her clients face-to-face across a steel table in a concrete room rather than with phones through a Plexiglas window.
“Yes, it is strange, isn’t it?” the princess said, reading her thoughts. “But they’re not really doing it for me. I suspect the queen would rather like to see my head chopped off, but she has to maintain protocol. That’s what royalty is all about, a set of rules, a code of behavior, what the queen would call our traditions. And that’s what people of my background are all about, too, people with noble titles and named estates who desire to maintain traditions.”
“By keeping the status quo you keep your privileges,” Marlowe said.
“That’s true, but don’t we all try to maintain our positions?”
“Not if you’re one of the have-nots. And I’m not trying to be facetious or argumentative, it’s something we have to consider in your defense. People are creatures of prejudice, all of us, we just hate or have contempt for different reasons. Lawyers who represent wealthy clients know that there will be someone on the jury who resents the rich. In your case, people can even have political bias.”
“People who want to get rid of the Royals and nobility.” It was a statement, not a question. Marlowe inferred from the princess’s tone that it was a subject the princess had mulled over.
“Yes, and people who believe you should be punished for attacking a Royal.”
“So that’s what a jury is? A group of people with prejudices?”
“That’s what people are like … and juries are made up of people. Fortunately, most people don’t have steel-trap minds, they can be persuaded to put aside minor bigotry, but some prejudices—religion, race, and resentment against the rich—are difficult for people to set aside. There are people who are blindly loyal to your husband because of his position, but that mind-set might be easier to set aside than the prejudice some jurors will have because you came from a privileged background.”
“I see. In their minds, are privileged and happy the same thing? Let me assure you, there have been many times in my life, including the present moment, when I would have given my titles and material possessions to be in a happy marriage with a man who loved me.”
Would you? Marlowe wondered. Was there a woman in the world who would not have sacrificed a little happiness to marry a prince and someday become queen? But it wasn’t time to challenge her on her story.
“That’s a point we’ll get across to the jury, that there’s more to happiness than material possessions and titles.” Marlowe met her eye. “I’ve met the rest of your defense team. They appear to be a well-rounded group of professionals. Why did you reach across the ocean and hire me? You had to know it would throw jet fuel on an already raging fire.”
The princess stared at her a little openmouthed, started to say something, and broke into a laugh. “You Americans, always so blunt. Do you have an ax in your briefcase you’ll bludgeon me with if you don’t like my answers?”
“I’m sorry, but I defend my clients with all my heart and all my energy. To win cases, I need to explain my client so well that the jury walks in my client’s shoes. To do that, I need to first walk in the shoes myself. Before we start building a defense about the shooting of your husband, I need to start with one of the most perplexing things about the case—why you hired me.”
“You called my defense team well-rounded. What did you think of Anthony Trent?”
Marlowe thought for a moment. “Intelligent, perceptive, probably a very able negotiator—all together, a sharp attorney. Well groomed, successful, distinguished, a leader in the courtroom and outside it. Not a typical criminal defense attorney, at least by American standards, where I’ve heard the best defense attorneys described as pit bulls with snapping jaws. In the States, I’d see him as more of a high-powered corporate attorney, perhaps even one who defends CEOs accused of white-collar crimes.”
“Would you say he’s ambitious?”
“Ambitious? I don’t know him well enough to answer that, but most successful people are. Including me.”
“I would imagine that the ambitions of most American attorneys are to succeed at their profession, win cases, and make money. Having the admiration of your peers or the public and financial rewards are universal motives that I can also imagine. But in Britain, we have an added mark of success. Knighthood. And above that, a life peer.”
“Life peer?”
“One is granted a noble title for life, but unlike hereditary titles, the title expires with the person. Lord Finfall is a life peer, awarded the title for public service. Do you know who creates knighthoods and peerages?”
Marlowe nodded. “The queen. I see what you’re getting at. Sir Fredic is a knight, Lord Finfall is nobility.”
“And Sir Fredic would like to be Baron Fredic. And I can’t tell you how much it would warm Anthony Trent’s heart to be called Sir Anthony.”
“You think they’d sell you out for a knighthood or peerage?”
“Selling me out, as you put it, would be too strong. They are honorable men and women, the people on the defense team. I don’t believe any of them can be bought or sold like common merchandise. It’s something much more subtle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our legal system is very tight knit. The people at the top of it went to the same schools, socialize together, and no doubt think pretty much alike. That’s most of the reason I wanted an outsider as part of it, to bring in fresh thinking. And the other part is this knighthood thing. I trust Trent, he is a good and honorable professional. I don’t doubt his ability or his loyalty. But I can’t help wondering if somewhere in the back of his mind there might be a nagging thought that if he defended me too aggressively, he would never be Sir Anthony. I can’t help wondering if that nagging thought might inadvertently tip the scales against me in a critical moment.”
“You’re right, we don’t have anything like knighthood in the States, unless it’s membership to a snooty country club.”
The princess took a sip of her coffee. “I rather suspect that Americans don’t understand the role of the Royals in British life. You have royalty, too, you treat your movie and music stars not just as celebrities, but in many ways with the pomp and adulation we treat the Royals. In Britain, the Royals are not just people who enter your life when you see a movie or play a song, but are a part of your life from the day you are born. And surrounding the Royals are families like mine, people in the upper echelon of the social, political, and financial strata, and the Royals possess a powerful social hammer. The richest people in the country don’t feel fulfilled until they hear the titillating sound of ‘Yes, Your Lordship,’ or ‘How are you today, Lady Jane?’”
She eyed Marlowe. “I suppose this thing about royalty and nobility is difficult for an American to appreciate.”
“Not as much as you might think. Because we read and speak English, it’s British literature, British law, British culture that most Americans relate to. Your queen in a sense is our queen, too.”
The princess lowered her eyes a moment, wondering how to approach Marlowe with a touchy subject. “I understand that, uh, your financial background is much different than mine, at least when you were young. Will that make it difficult for you to understand me? To fight for me? Or do you fight the same for all your clients?”
“I fight for all my clients, that’s what my profession demands. I’d like to say that it doesn’t matter if the client is wealthy or not, but the truth is that rich people can pay for the teams of experts that can make a difference in a case.”
“Do lawyers work harder if they’re paid more?”
“I can only speak for myself and I’d l
ike to say no, that I don’t work harder for the rich than I do the poor, but that would be a lie. I won’t turn down a case that I believe in just because of money, but I have to pay rent, buy food, and cover office expenses like anyone else. Someone has to pay for that, and it won’t be the poor.”
The princess spread her fingers on the table and stared down at them. Her fingernails had been chewed on. Embarrassed, she hid them as she realized Marlowe had noticed.
“In a sense, I see you as a counterbalance. Asking you to represent me was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. I actually had you thoroughly checked out. I learned that in America, successful criminal defense lawyers gain something of celebrity status—”
“Or notoriety.” It wouldn’t have taken much for the princess’s friends to have checked my background, Marlowe thought. There had been plenty of stories about her over the years.
“Or that. Naturally, I was impressed by your string of victories. But also with how you managed them. The person who investigated you on my behalf called you a master of empathy. You were able to explain your clients to the jury in a way that they truly understood what the clients went through. You could only do that if you had a great reserve of empathy. And if there’s anything I need, it’s for people to understand from my point of view what drove me to pick up a gun and pull the trigger. I think you can understand that better than anyone else.”
Marlowe got an intuitive flash as to why the princess had hired her. She wasn’t just looking for empathy. Marlowe’s attraction to her was that both of them had taken abuse and humiliation and struck back at their husbands the same way.
“I don’t want to be locked up in prison. Or a mental ward, which is the place they’d most like to put me. You see, that would explain everything to their satisfaction, wouldn’t it? If I was crazy, it’s not his fault and it’s not really even my fault, either, because I had no control over my actions. But that would mean not only that I would be written off as a crazy, but that I would be locked up forever.
“My main concern is for my children. I could never explain to them why I killed their father. They’ve asked me why I did it and I simply shook my head and cried. I need to leave them a legacy about me that doesn’t simply label me a crazy. There are things about a relationship between a man and a woman no mother could ever explain to her child, things that are so personal or painful that the words can’t be said to children. But I hope I can give you those words and let you explain me to the world.”
Blood Royal Page 9