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  I repent it bitterly, but now I must reveal a terrible thing, anathema to the Church and a grave charge against Lord Hastings, which makes it impossible I serve him further.

  It is known that Your Grace charged Lord Hastings to investigate the untimely and unexpected death of your late brother the King and the rumour it was brought about, in resentment, by the King’s discarded mistress, a certain Shore. It is also known that Lord Hastings has taken this Shore to his own bed, sharing the licentious tastes; forgive me Your Grace, of your late brother.

  It has come to my ear that this Shore confessed, she practised witchcraft against the late King; and further, and most urgently Your Grace, is now practising the same Devilish art against your own person, your wife and your son.

  I submit myself to Your Grace’s judgement, for treason is a terrible thing and I will serve the sake of Lord Hastings no further.”

  Richard listened with seriousness; Morton’s demeanour gave him no choice.

  “May I ask Your Grace, have you suffered any injury or illness of late? How is your arm? For I thought I noticed you favouring it in Council.”

  Richard contained his emotions, reactions and judgement wonderfully, as Morton intended he should. There was just one more element to put in place before Morton left,

  “I implore Your Grace, do nothing in haste, wait and see; that Lord Hastings’ actions may more clearly reveal themselves.”

  Richard wasn’t as easily taken in as Buckingham had been. He’d even remarked to Henry,

  “Beware of Greeks when bearing gifts.”

  It had affronted the Duke that he’d been too quick to believe Margaret Beaufort, and he’d argued for the truth of the allegation more strongly.

  One circumstance added plausibility. Two days before, the dukes had privately explained the difficulty with Stillington to William Hastings. His response had been right but was possibly open to interpretation,

  “It was to be expected, but the boy is the heir until anyone disproves it, confirmed in the King’s will, and Edward became king on his father’s death. No man can deny it.”

  Had these words really meant he, Hastings, had anticipated the dukes would follow Stillington and that he had prepared against it?

  For all the unravelling going on around him, Richard was confident, others were coming to him, there would be a resolution against either Hastings or Morton on 13th June, and he, Richard, understood military force.

  There was just a little more suggestion before that fateful day.

  On the Thursday Morton made two casual remarks to Hastings,

  “The gardens at Ely Place are full of fine strawberries, if it please you my lord, bid me fetch you some when next we meet.”

  The other comment was also solicitous,

  “Keeping the good order of the Council against outsiders troubles me, do you check the security of the guard for tomorrow.”

  For the Great Council meeting Richard was late. He’d been checking the guard, the soldiers were his own and there was no risk of arrest as threatened in the Queen’s letter. He was not to know his good humour would be spoiled by a further ruse of Morton.

  Richard was called away as he had arranged to be. In a private room he was received, solemn faced, by his own agents. He had ordered a raid to be made on Lord Hastings’ house, to take place as soon as the Council began. The agents were very thorough, they found hidden, where Morton’s agents had planted them, 4 wax dolls with pins in them, one with a pin in its arm exactly where Richard had lately been experiencing discomfort. There was other paraphernalia which might have been of witchcraft and there were verbal reports from servants of the house who, while loyal to Hastings, had no love of Mistress Shore. On top of this was a scrawled note, which might have been in Hastings hand, with imprecations against Richard himself.

  After this, another agent stepped forward. Richard had set him to keep an eye on the Council’s guard and he reported that, before Richard’s arrival, Hastings had inspected the soldiers and recognised some of Richard’s men.

  So, there would be no coupe attempted against him today, but the evidence of witchcraft put Richard in a rising black mood. He went back into the Council as Sir Thomas More described.

  In one particular Shakespeare and the other Tudor propagandists are in error. Shakespeare alleged Hastings was arrested and summarily executed that day. There is evidence of a letter, lately come to light, signed by Hastings and dated a week later.

  What actually happened was, after his arrest, Hastings was speedily brought to trial by due process of Law. There was, of course, the concocted evidence against him; there was also Richard’s undoubted anger and sense of betrayal, which may have swayed the court. He was condemned to death and executed shortly after the date of that new found letter.

  ***

  Chapter 14 – The Coronation that never was

  In the days after the springing of the plot the Great Council went further. By unanimous agreement, the Queen’s letters were evidence enough against Earl Rivers, Richard Grey and Thomas Vaughan, whom the Dukes had arrested at Stony Stratford. The Dukes’ action was vindicated and the execution of all three was ordered.

  By being enticed into treason, and by writing her fantasies in the letters she put into Margaret Beaufort’s hands, the Queen not only accomplished Hastings death but that of her own brother and her son, had she not been queen it would have been her own death also: a foolish woman in deed.

  Two things are to be remembered; no voice on the Council dissented: while Richard and Buckingham are often accused of self-interest, that could not be said of the arch-bishops of Canterbury and York.

  The second thing is that Dr. Shaa’s sermon was not given till after this, maybe it was the Woodville treason which tipped Shaa and Stillington into speaking in public; maybe, but for the Queen’s foolishness and Beaufort and Morton’s conspiracy, Edward V might still have been crowned.

  The Great Council, which at the start had only discussed the new king’s coronation, all other business being secondary, in the end simply cancelled it. The 24th of June, the day London should have seen Edward V confirmed on the throne, instead heard the greatest speech of Henry, duke of Buckingham’s life.

  The Dukes had decided and at last taken control, admittedly forced into it ignominiously, and with the loss of an invaluable and innocent friend in Hastings.

  Prince Edward could not be king on two grounds: first, the double illegality of his claim and, even if Stillington had gone too far, it would now be impossible to overcome his opposition; secondly there was an evident danger to the realm that Edward, by his age, would be used as a pawn by the Queen’s faction. It would have reminded many of the disastrous days when Henry VI’s incapacity put England in the hands of a queen’s faction, and the French empire was lost as the result.

  I looked into the minds of as many on the Great Council as I could, whatever their position, wherever they came from, I could find none who would disagree with this. The Queen’s treason, and her previous reputation for family ambition, left Prince Edward with not one supporter outside his mother’s family.

  As to Richard himself, I found him struggling with memories of his father. Richard, duke of York, had a better claim to the throne than Henry VI; as with all the nobility, Richard had tried to be loyal for the sake of the realm, yet he was forced into confrontation and in the end he was killed by the queen’s faction. A terrible civil war resulted. I saw it through the young Richard’s eyes in frightening, violent scenes, full of the smell of blood and the cries of the dying. He closed his eyes against them. He thought of his love for his brother, he thought of his own fears of being king. In the end he faced the fear and decided for duty; Richard, as he had been trained to do, always decided for duty.

  This was hardly a feat of mediumship, the slightest training in counselling and empathy, in transference and counter-transference, the slightest knowledge of psychology, should have taken anyone to this understanding. Unless you believe in the
inhuman monster historians write about, it could not have been otherwise.

  The first step was to take Prince Edward’s younger brother, Prince Richard, out of the hands of Queen Elizabeth, who was in sanctuary at Westminster Abbey. A party of Great Council members, led by Thomas Bourchier went to persuade her to give him up. It has been suggested she was threatened with force, the truth is this was as unlikely as it was unnecessary, with the Council’s decision, in the words of our times, Edward and Richard were no-longer ‘players’ and neither use nor danger to anyone. Richard would be far more comfortable with his brother in the royal apartments in the Tower. Reluctantly Elizabeth assented.

  It is a speculation from having seen Duke Richard, he was thorough and careful. He distrusted Elizabeth, and it is no surprise he would take no step further until he knew his nephews were safe and secure. Perhaps he would have used force if he’d had to.

  From the time news of Edward IV’s death spread across England lords and M.P.s had flocked to London, first for the King’s funeral, second for the new king’s coronation. Many were there still, and a Parliament had been called, with the original intention of welcoming the new king. Shortly the Great Council would find itself superseded, by design or default, this was the setting for Buckingham’s great speech; he could hardly have had a fuller audience, the lords, bishops and commons of Parliament, the corporation and guilds of London, and the swelled populous of the city, all were represented at the Guildhall.

  Buckingham restated the central point of Shaa’s sermon, “Ye well remember substantially declared unto you at Paul’s Cross on Sunday.” But he did it softly, on Richard’s insistence, for the sake of the still living Duchess Cecily, and no mention was made of Edward IV’s illegitimacy. If Richard had allowed it, public knowledge might have saved Richard’s own life at Bosworth and the Princes, presently, from abduction. According to Sir Thomas More Buckingham was, “marvellously well spoken” and set the scene for the meeting of Parliament the next day.

  Unanimously Parliament assented to a document, following the lines of Buckingham’s speech, which petitioned Richard to take the crown of England. A multitude took themselves to Baynard’s Castle, to press Richard to accept, and the nobility pressed forward to take the oath of allegiance.

  At this point Morton may or may not have changed the succession to the crown of England, but he had certainly strengthened it. His plan was not yet completely unfolded.

  ***

  Chapter 15 – Placing the Princes

  No-one could be unaware that a very great deal has been written about the 'Princes in the Tower' specifically about their disappearance and supposed murder. It isn't possible to live in England, or many other places, and not know the Tudor propaganda of Shakespeare's play.

  It is my habit to investigate psychically and then check my facts against History. It is my experience that if I do it the other way around it interferes with the objectivity of the investigation. On the Princes historians, from the earliest times, have mixed a few facts with a lot of opinion, the facts have been stretched to match the opinion and, even then, some of the facts are untrue. The simple fact, then as now, is nobody has ever known what happened to the Princes.

  What can be said for certain is Princes Edward and Richard were sporadically seen in the Tower of London, where Richard III installed them, until sometime in July. With the Princes supposedly safely ‘tucked up,’ Richard and Buckingham set out on a royal progress round the country, leaving from Windsor, not London, on 20th July.

  From all this uncertainty, I took my mind back to Hatfield.

  The events of 1483 seemed to go with such a rush. In fact there was well over two months between Morton’s first coupe, with the death of Edward IV, and his second coupe, with the death of Hastings. I found Morton back at Hatfield, in the Great Hall, talking to Gilbert, some time before the 13th June. On the table between them lay a map:

  “Can your mind take you into this, Gilbert?”

  Brother Gilbert couldn’t answer. He had never seen the Tower of London, let alone entered the White Tower at its centre.

  “I have never seen London.”

  “I can take you there, and I can have sketches made of the great keep that stands at its heart. I cannot take you into the Royal Apartments; even I cannot go there freely.

  My patronage of your devotions to blest Saint John may give you entry, if my tongue can conjure it, to the chapel that stands even at the heart of the Great Tower.”

  Gilbert simply nodded.

  For you, dear reader, I can do almost as well. There were no guide books in John Morton’s day, the earliest I can find comes from the beginning of the 1900s courtesy of Project Gutenberg. You can find it here: Guide to the Tower of London.

  It’s worth taking time with the guide, I knew very little more than Brother Gilbert, I studied it with care and fascination. Beyond the Edwardian drawings, and the ancient architecture they show, one drawing struck me: it is a plan of the middle floor of the White Tower, showing the Chapel of St. John.

  Several things stood out: firstly the sheer scale of it, according to the guide the Chapel measures 55 feet 6 inches long by 31 feet wide, and 32 feet high; secondly its great age, having been completed in 1080 in the reign of the Conqueror himself, but third were the staircases.

  You will see from the plan the staircases are made of stone and are circular, excepting one which, according to the guide, is narrow and straight. These had nothing to do with the staircase I caught from Bishop Morton’s mind and which he so carefully reproduced at Hatfield.

  Morton held a second conversation, this time with Thomas Nandyke.

  “Your charge Thomas is to enter the Underworld from here. From there you must go to another place. Brother Gilbert will guide you, and from there you must come back here. Can you do that?”

  Thomas was more forthcoming than Gilbert had been.

  “I have been to the Underworld and returned. I could do it by clearly seeing the places to which I must go. There is more than I have said in that, I must be able to feel the place if ever I’m to conjure its entry.

  The places to which you bid me must be exact and certain.”

  “I shall ensure they are, but there is more. I shall charge you with the key and crown of all our endeavours. You are to bring with you other persons, and more on your return. I bid you to conjure the greatest entry and leaving of the Underworld since Odysseus.”

  Perhaps Morton had not read the Odyssey; the hero’s whole company did not return, only Odysseus himself made it home. Thomas was silent.

  The Bishop was thoughtful also; it would require exact and certain placing of those who were to be moved.

  ***

  Chapter 16 – A Call to Confession

  Bishop Morton’s life might not have been as much of a rush as it seemed. Mine was. It seemed to me my eavesdropping had me dashing about from one great person and event to another, with hardly more pause than was needed to eat and to sleep.

  I declared a holiday of idleness in which, by design, there should be nothing to report. After that, and a little preparation, I would revisit Thomas Nandyke, in the room where I first met him.

  I put several things into a bag; an old ceramic inkpot, securely sealed, with ink in it, a quill pen, paper, modern but of parchment quality, a reproduction of a very old painting of Christ on the Cross with Mary and St John standing by him, this was enclosed in an ancient wooden and glass fronted frame, together, finally, with two loaves of bread. With these I took another half barrel of beer; I had no idea how much time would have passed for Thomas, when I saw him next.

  Thus equipped, and dressed in my theatrical robe, I presented myself to Thomas.

  “I have been waiting my lord.”

  I put my bag on the table and the barrel in the corner of the room.

  “I’ve been learning, and now I wish to learn more.”

  Drawing the painting out of the bag, I passed it to him. It had been painted in 1482, but in Germany, Th
omas could not previously have seen it.

  “The figure you see on your right is St. John the evangelist. Does this mean anything to you?”

  Thomas looked at it for a long time, giving no expression. Finally he spoke,

  “Saint John travelled to other worlds. You have read his book of Revelations. He was also there at the translation of Christ, back into this World, and away from it again.”

  “And do you have any link to him in this World?”

  Thomas sighed.

  “You know of his chapel in the Tower of London, you know I was to take Brother Gilbert and several others through Hades and into the Chapel. You know my Lord Bishop set me many other tasks in the same cause.”

  Drawing the paper, quill and ink from the bag I placed them on the table.

  And now I wish you to set out for me the conjurations by which you achieved the Bishop’s will.”

  I pushed the pen and paper towards him, but he shook his head.

  “The conjurations are not for mortal man.

  But I will tell to you the history of the Bishop’s bidding and what came to pass. It will ease my soul and you and St. John shall be my confessors.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I will tell all this to you, for you are not a mortal man.”

  My eyebrow rose still further.

  ***

  Chapter 17 – The first Part of Thomas’ Confession

  “After the well was made in the Great Hall a winch was built above it. This supported a wooden cage or platform, held by ropes, which could be lowered down into the darkness. They offered a candle but I wanted none and lay on the platform while my brothers lowered me, at an even pace so that there be no jerking. I recited my rituals to myself, at times calling on the brothers to stop, to be sure of every stage of the journey. At last the bottom was reached but I no longer had any sense of the wooden boards under me. There was no stone floor beneath me; standing up in the darkness there was a feeling of a wind too soft to move my hair, and a light, as if moonlight, but too pale to see by. I took ten paces away from where I’d laid, but then returned, fearing I might not again find the wooden platform. Lying as before I prayer and recited my rituals and called to the brothers. After a space they pulled me up as from a distant place, stopping again at my bidding.