The Gallows Murders by Paul Doherty Page B

correspond?' Vetch inquired.
    Here I intervened. 'Surely there are secret passageways, postern-gates that are unmanned?'
    'All were locked and sealed,' Spurge replied. 'As surveyor of the King's work, I did that personally. Every gate and door was barred, bolted and sealed by the constable. None of those seals were broken. Moreover,' Spurge added, 'you seem to imply that Undershaft's death is connected to this bizarre mystery. But why? And who could kill such a powerful man as Andrew? He certainly would not have gone like a lamb to the slaughter.'
    Benjamin toyed with the fur lining of his robe. 'Perhaps the villain is not even in the Tower,' he remarked, then tapped the table. ‘You do know a second letter has been delivered? Left in the Abbot's stall at Westminster Abbey?'
'Dispatched from the Tower?' Spurge squeaked.
‘Yes!'
    There is another problem,' Kemble pointed out, running one hand through his thinning hair. His face took on a smug look. 'Master Daunbey, like you my career depends on royal patronage, be it here or as keeper of the King's palace at Woodstock. Indeed, at Michaelmas I am to be relieved of this command to join an embassy to the Emperor in Bruges.' The fat little fool preened himself like a peacock.
‘What's your point?' Benjamin asked tartly.
    The seals!' Sir Edward declared. The quality of vellum is excellent, the wax is the purest you can buy, those seals were no makeshift forgeries. They are the seals of King Edward V: both the signet and the Chancellor's. Now, as you know, they should have been destroyed some forty years ago. Even if they did survive, you know how delicate such seals are? They would be battered and chipped.'
    ‘I can't answer that, Sir Edward,' Benjamin replied. 'But, if it so concerns you, do you have any theories to explain it?'
    Kemble shook his head. 'I don't know,' he murmured. 'God forgive me, Master Daunbey, but I don't. Forty years ago a young boy was imprisoned here. For a few weeks, Edward V was the rightful king, but then he and his younger brother disappeared. Now Edward has returned, almost as if he has been on some jaunt along the river and come back to find out what should have been his -' Kemble paused to choose his words carefully - 'has now been taken away.'
    'Sir Edward?' I asked. 'How long have you been constable of the Tower?'
'It's two years since I left Woodstock in Oxfordshire.'
    'And nothing untoward has ever happened? I mean, involving the long dead Princes?'
'No.'
    'And in the Tower, what rumours exist about their fate?' I smiled deprecatingly. ‘Every building, be it palace, fortress or church has its own history and legends. Fathers talk to sons ...'
    There is nothing.' Vetch spoke up. 'Master Shallot, you tread on very thin ice: the two Princes were put here late in 1483. They were last seen with their bows shooting at the butts on the green below. This must have been in the spring of 1484. After that, all is silence. In the Tower there's no whisper or trace; it's as if these boys had never been born.'
    'But if they disappeared?' I insisted. There must be legends about their possible fate?'
    'Master Shallot, there are as many theories as there are hairs on your head.' Vetch began to tick the points off on his fingers. 'Some say their Uncle Richard murdered them. Others claim he sent his minions to smother them in their beds. A third theory alleges they died of some sickness, very similar to what has been raging lately in the city. Another claims one of the Princes died and one escaped. You may recall, Master Shallot, how during the present King's father's reign, two impostors came forward, each claiming to be one of the lost Princes. And...' He paused.
'And what?' Agrippa asked coolly.
    Vetch got to his feet, the legs of the chair scraping behind him. He walked over to the door and pushed it shut. He turned the key in the lock and walked back to his seat.
    ‘Dr Agrippa,' he said in a loud whisper, 'don't play games with us. The common tongue says