The Necromancer Part I

by Mike Voyce

  Somehow they had to be brought within reach. Morton could not dare commit his thoughts to writing, his thoughts could not be disguised on paper and discovery would end everything. I found him explaining everything most carefully to Matthew, his earnestness and anxiety conveying itself to his acolyte.

  “You must explain it carefully to my lady Margaret Beaufort, she is my patron and mentor, and you must be certain she understands. You must speak to none other.”

  Matthew nodded his understanding. It would be to Margaret Beaufort he next went, and that in some hast.

  When I turned my attention to London I found Tudor agents hard at work. Margaret Beaufort had listened to Matthew with care, and certainly she understood. She gave instructions the same day: a mob was to be raised, demanding the Princes be brought out of the Tower. In Richard’s absence agents were already working to undermine the decision of the bishop of Bath and Wells and the pronouncement of Parliament, now it was, “Edward is the true king and in danger from his uncle.”

  Neither Margaret Beaufort nor John Morton thought there was any real chance of taking the Princes. The mob was allowed a little way into the Tower’s defences; then the gates to the Inner Ward were lowered tight shut. The crowd could shout and throw rocks but little more. It would have taken a serious military campaign, with siege engines and thousands of trained soldiers, to threaten the Tower. Nevertheless, the Princes, out in the open, could have been surprised by a sneak attack; the decision was taken, the Princes must withdraw to the safety of the royal apartments in The White Tower. It was what Margaret Beaufort and John Morton wanted.

  The historical records are sketchy. After the riot which put the Princes under closer protection there was a wider plot, that the Princes be brought out again. King Richard heard of this plot at the end of July and it seemed likely the brothers must have completed their work by then or Morton and Margaret Beaufort would not have wanted the Princes displayed. Thomas’ notion of the passage of days had become confused by this time, and I never pressed him on it.

  ***

  Chapter 25 – The Going Out

  Thomas came at last to the fateful night the Princes were taken from the Tower of London.

  “It was late at night and we were all abed when Brother Matthew arrived at the palace. He roused us with the Bishop’s urgent instruction.

  ‘We are to do Brother Thomas’ working tonight.’

  It seemed the Princes had been brought to the royal apartments in the White Tower, just one floor above Saint John’s Chapel. The Bishop knew the way and had sketched it for John and Bartholomew; they had been schooled in their part and waited only the Bishop’s word.

  All the brothers made our way to the new place, bringing the Young Gentlemen with us, dressed in their fine clothes. It made a strange torchlight procession, and the beacon was lit against our return.

  The order of our going was that I should take John and Bartholomew leaving the gentlemen with the brothers, we should all then return bringing with us the sons of King Edward IV.

  ‘They will be of no trouble and shall be obedient to our will.’

  Brother John showed me the vile I saw before.

  ‘They shall stay with me in the chamber while you and Bartholomew take the Young Gentlemen to the Tower. By the Bishop’s rule balance shall be maintained, nothing shall disorder the seeming we bring.’

  Brother John’s voice rang clear and stern and, in the half light, I saw sweat on his brow.

  I heard him and stood mute.

  Before we were allowed to enter the chamber, Brother Stephen and as many of the other brothers who could fit carried out their own ceremony.

  First they slit the throat of an ox on the riverbank; they did this with words of dedication and ritual that the rest of us could not hear. Then they carried the blood to the trough in the chamber of the new place and conducted a further ceremony. There were high words carried away on the wind, and at the end of it was a light and a loud clap and smoke. The brothers came forth from the chamber, standing around us in a half circle. Brother Stephen said,

  ‘There is blood still in the trough, take care not to touch it. The workings of my devising and the Bishop’s approval are set and shall guide what comes to pass.’

  When he had said this he looked about him, with the look of one who has done a great and terrible thing.

  We three entered the chamber silently, holding hands in a circle with a single alter candle at the centre.

  I did not like it but there was now no choice, I bid my companions do as they had done before and we found ourselves on the floor which is not earth and then we found ourselves in the Chapel of Saint John. We were there all safe. I was told to remain while John and Bartholomew checked the way to the Princes’ apartment, up the stairwell the Bishop had directed, out of the Chapel they went and were gone.

  All was silence as I waited.

  Time stretched as if for hours. Then there were noises from above, coming down the stairs.

  Before me stood Edward, Prince of Wales, and Richard, duke of York. Young Richard looked as if he were still asleep and stood with his eyes half closed. Prince Edward was under the power of Bartholomew and there was fear in his eyes. I found myself speaking,

  ‘Your Graces we shall all hold hands with me in the centre between you. You shall feel no fear, and we shall all pass from this place to another.’

  Straight away I closed my eyes and gave my mind to passing back to the chamber at Hatfield. Again there was the floor which was not earth and then, at last, there was the floor which was earth.

  Without time for thinking, the Young Gentlemen were brought in, and Brother John spoke,

  ‘Your life depends on sitting still while our brother returns these gentlemen to your place. Do not try to move as you sit here, as your lives depend on it.’

  Seeing the need for hast, I took the Gentlemen’s hand and began and they responding as they were told they must.

  We came to Saint John’s Chapel and I kept hold of their hands,

  ***

  Chapter 26 – The Coming In

  As we found ourselves in that venerable place I spoke earnestly and in a whisper,

  ‘Listen! If you stay in this place I am afraid for your lives, you must come with me. Our going away will be as our coming.”

  But before I could say more there was the sound of footsteps and I ushered them onto a staircase which I knew led to the outside world of the Inner Court.

  The footsteps came on. There was a large chest at the head of the stairs and I gestured them to climb into it, thinking I could hide down behind it.

  The footsteps came closer and I bethought me; if they came onto the stairs I could fly, but leaving the Gentlemen. I should not know what became of them. I seized hold of the chest, as if I had the boys in my arms, I closed my eyes, to envisage the well in the Great Hall, and I closed my mind, seeking the bottom which is not stone.

  It seemed to me we then collided with the World. There was a great rush and a falling, and all I could see was a rushing up of hard packed earth. The chest slipped from my hands, falling from me out of sight; I raised my empty hands to protect my eyes, and then I was in the well.

  I called out for the Young Gentlemen but there was only silence. I felt around the bottom of the well for the chest, but there was only emptiness. I did not know what then to do.

  After a time I took thought and took myself to the chamber in the new place, taking myself there as if I had only now come from the Chapel. I arrived to consternation.

  I was told there had been an earth tremor, the chamber shook while I was not there. Prince Edward lunged forward, to get out. Brother Bartholomew, thinking it was an escape, pushed him firmly and roughly back, and he fell against the trough, putting his hand out to steady himself, his hand slipped into the sacrificial blood and he grazed it badly. The Prince sat thereafter staring and shaking. Brother Stephen has taken him back to the palace.

  Brother John asked,

&nbs
p; ‘Where are the Young Gentlemen?’

  And I confessed.

  All the brothers were silent as John led us back through the woods. I was told to clean myself and go to bed. All went to bed; Prince Richard was put in a fine room with his brother, the door locked and the window barred.

  The next day I was summoned to Brother John.

  He told me Gilbert had scried for the Young Gentlemen; at first they were nowhere to be found. Gilbert examined the stairs where we had been; feeling something odd there he looked into the stairs and beyond, it was the first time any of us attempted distant seeing into the earth. He found the boys deep buried dead and lost to all men’s sight.

  No time was given for my consternation and guilt.

  ‘Did you not hear Brother Stephen cast the spell, that none should break the course Bishop Morton set? The magic circle and the sacrifice set the limit and your traveling could not overcome the conjuration set by all the brothers.’

  There was silence as my mouth hung open.

  ‘The brothers are in morning and I have written to Brecon. I expect you to be called there by the Bishop.’

  Only one thing else happened that day, as I tried to make peace with my own spirit. I was called again to the Great Hall and stood to one side by Brother John as we waited for Master Legley.

  I recognised him as the mason who organised our special building works. He always had command, and so today.

  ‘This is the man of whom you spoke? I leave him to your bishop.

  The Prince Edward is dying, he stares before him with empty eyes and his fever rises. Il est mort.

  I take the young one to my masters. It will not please them to have only Richard. I have ordered horses. We go to La France; we take ship from your palais d’Ely. I leave you now.’

  He turned to me, his eyes daggers,

  ‘You will be taught not to meddle with your betters. If you still believe in God then pray, tout de bon, sérieusement; adieu.’

  It was true. Prince Edward wonderfully quickly took a fever from his cut. Not cold water, not bleeding; nothing could reverse its course. It ended in delirium and shaking. The Prince died the next day.”

  ***

  Chapter 27 – The Bishop’s Retribution

  Thomas was tired by recounting all this story. I was tired also; the way to meditate is by relaxation, but maintaining that state of mind, and contact over so long, was profoundly draining. Neither of us would let go.

  “The next day Brother Matthew and I took horse in the early morning. I should never have found my way by ordinary means without Matthew’s guidance. I could have gone there by my mind’s art, but it was no longer allowed. By order of John and Bartholomew I was not to be left unaccompanied and Brother Matthew tied a rope between us to prevent my leaving. For all that ride we travelled in almost silence and I caught sight of Matthew giving me strange glances. From the way he kept watch on me he made it plain I was his prisoner. It prepared me for what was to come.

  We came to the village or town of Brecon, all overshadowed by the great stronghold of the great Duke. Matthew had lodgings here, but he bid me go straight to the Castle; nor did he come with me, saying it was not to be known he was in Brecon.

  With Matthew watching from a distance I presented myself at the gate, announcing myself as Dr Thomas Nandyke having urgent business with my lord the Bishop of Ely. The guard was literate and wrote my name in a book, having me spell my name letter by letter. I was conducted into the castle by another guard, who seemed to be waiting. I thought it odd and wondered if my name would be remembered.”

  I thought it odd also, and wondered if this announcement had caused the entry in the Act of Parliament which alerted me to Thomas, all that time ago. If so, it might yet prove the saving of his life, but that has to do with plans I was only now starting to form.

  “The Bishop was kept in great comfort. He received me in a brightly lit room with furnishings, wall hangings and ornament. He was sat by a large window which looked down on a garden within the Castle walls. There was a bowl of fruit on a table near him, and I came to stand before him.

  My lord Bishop did not look at me as he carried on slicing an under-ripe pear.

  “Brother John has written to me. You may take it I know what has come to pass.”

  There was a pause while he worked with the knife.

  ‘The boys supplied to me by the King of France are dead. Why did you put them in a box?’

  He paused, knife in hand,

  ‘I am told Prince Edward Plantagenet is also dead.

  Have you anything to say?’

  The Bishop applied himself to his fruit, giving it all his attention, and I stammered.

  ‘I have lately discovered your conjurations against King Edward IV, and against King Richard and his family. It seems, Thomas, despite my best care and the teachings of the Church, you are guilty of witchcraft.’

  Almost, as if talking to himself,

  ‘It is said King Richard has a very quick temper.’

  He looked at me directly; and then he went on, in an almost kindly voice,

  ‘I shall leave you for a moment to think. If you jump from the window it is thirty feet to the ground, if you survive I shall make sure your suffering is short. If you stay I shall hand you over to my guards.’

  He rose to leave, but before he went he turned, almost as an afterthought,

  ‘Of course, with your great skill in traveling you could return to the well in the Great hall and feel its smooth stones. I’m sure the brothers will keep your secrets.’

  With that he was gone.

  I sat in the Bishop’s chair, not daring to look out of the window. I dared not stay, and some caution told me I must not go to the well or the chamber in the new place. I thought of Great Circe and wished myself with her.

  I found the bottom which is not stone and I searched for the isle of my mistress, but I could not find it. I searched with desperation, and only when I thought all was lost, I found this place from which I have not stirred till you found me.

  Yet that is not quite all. I practised Gilbert’s great art of seeing. I saw the new place, with blood on the floor and the sense of a curse on it. I saw the well in the Great Hall, and labourers tipping earth and rubble into it; if I went there I should be buried alive, like the boys in the Tower.”

  Thomas now looked truly drained, but there was one great effort I must demand of him.

  “Do not blame yourself. What is done can yet be partly saved. Can you get to Circe from here?”

  Thomas looked at me blankly.

  “Remember, when I became concerned for your safety I told you to go to her, you did not say you couldn’t. Will you try again?”

  I got up and paced the room, stretching my arms and legs; I turned my back on Thomas. When I turned to him again he nodded.

  “How did you know I could do it?”

  “Morton wanted to limit your choices. You had the wisdom to avoid his choices but you lost your belief in your own. I can’t see how he could stop you going to her.

  Now I want you to do something to help in your own redemption.

  Legley has taken Prince Richard to Ely Palace in Holborn. They will spend just one night there. Before Richard is taken out of reach you must take him to Circe. Have you ever been to Ely Palace?”

  Thankfully Thomas nodded.

  “You must find Prince Richard there. At your first clear opportunity you must take him to Circe.”

  I could see hope and the wish for redemption battling with tiredness, despair and uncertainty as they each crossed his face. I could see Thomas running his mind through all the requirements and difficulties. We had gone passed the point he would raise any but the most insurmountable problem. Finally he nodded.

  Then he was gone.

  I sat and waited for Thomas’ return, needing to know it was safely done. Sitting in that chair, in that impossible room, I fell asleep.

  I was wakened by the sound of his return. Thomas was coughing
, discretely, by my ear. Consciousness returned with a rush.

  “Is it done?”

  He grinned from ear to ear, nodding vigorously.

  With that I took my leave, telling him there would be a great deal more to do. It made me smile to think of that Frenchman Legley, searching the palace in vain; ‘adieu’ in deed.

  For now it was time to return to my own world.

  ***

  The outside of ‘Ely Tower’ at Brecon Castle

  Chapter 28 – History

  It happens, often times what I experience in my mind is clear, direct and simple, while the historical records I research are misleading confused and wrong. Such a case was my research now, into the ‘murder’ of the Princes in the Tower. Shakespeare has it that they were smothered and stabbed in the Bloody Tower, many authorities, including Major-General Sir George Younghusband (keeper of the Jewel House at the Tower), who should have known better, agree. In the first place; in 1483 the Bloody Tower was known as the Garden Tower, the later name not being acquired until the 1500s and nothing to do with the Princes; second, the apartment in which they were said to be killed did not exist in 1483, it was constructed to house Sir Walter Raleigh in the reign of Elizabeth I; third, to extricate the bodies and bury them in the fashion prescribed by later legend could not have been done without discovery.

  Here begins the historical mystery surrounding the Princes in the Tower. We ought to be lucky that modern historical writing began not long after these times. Two important early ‘histories’ should be looked at by any serious historian, the first is by Sir Thomas More who was the greatest protégé of Morton himself. More is suspect not only because of Morton and because he spent his life in Tudor service, but for a greater reason. It is said he couldn’t make any statement without mockery and irony, such that you might never understand him without first knowing the truth. The second history is by Sir George Buck, who wrote at the beginning of the 1600s and who had access to secret papers. The following hyperlinks will take you to free downloads of their books, but be warned, they’re not easy reads and you must click settings to download Buck: The History of King Richard the Third by Sir Thomas More and The history of the life and reigne of Richard the Third by Sir George Buck .