“It is an ill-fated event and leaves a dismal prospect,” he said very quietly.  “Sooner or later my nephews’ death will be laid on me.  To proclaim them dead would be to declare me guilty now.  To conceal their death will be simply to postpone that guilt a time—­a very little time, it may be.  Curiosity will arise over their prolonged disappearance . . . then will come suspicion . . . and at length suspicion will become accepted fact. . .  So, my lords, their blood will be put on me—­either now or in the future.  That is my only choice—­now or the future—. . . and I choose the future.  We will not announce the death; and the bodies shall be buried privately and in an unknown spot.  To you, Sir Robert Brackenbury, I commit the task, trusting you fully. . .  And, my lords, from this moment henceforth, let this council and its sad subject be forgotten utterly. . .  Only I ask that when, in after days, you hear Richard Plantagenet accused of this deed, you will defend him or his memory. . .  And now, good night.”

One by one they came forward, bent knee and kissed his hand; then quietly withdrew, leaving him and De Lacy alone together.

“And yet, forsooth,” he exclaimed, “Stanley advised that the Princes be removed!  By St. Paul! if he sought to persuade me to my injury, the Fates have subserved his wishes well.  Him I can baffle, but under their frown the strongest monarch fails.”

XVI

THE FLAT-NOSE REAPPEARS

It was September, and Their Majesties had come to Pontefract with the immediate Household for a brief rest after the labors and fatigues of the summer, and which had culminated in the festivities and ceremonies at York.  In the room where Sir Aymer de Lacy first saw Richard of Gloucester, the King and Queen were alone together.  Evening had fallen, but the brilliancy of a full moon in a cloudless sky had prolonged the day.  Through the open windows came the freshness of the woods and hills, and the candles flickered and flamed in coquetry with the gentle breeze.

“Come, Anne, let us walk.  It is too fine an evening to spend indoors,” Richard said, laying aside the papers he had been examining.

She answered with the sweet smile that was always on her lips for him, and arm in arm they passed out upon the ramparts.

The main body of the soldiery were quartered in the town below the hill, and the castle was very quiet, save only for the tramp of the guards on the wall, the rattle of their weapons, and an occasional burst of laughter from the great hall.  The peace and calm appealed to the Queen, and she sighed.

“How so, sweetheart,” said Richard; “what troubles you?”

“I was thinking how much preferable Pontefract is to London.”

The King laughed.  “I believe you would rather be Duchess than Queen.”

“Aye, Richard, much rather, much rather,” she replied instantly.