THE amazing thing is that this mystery should have remained unsolved when it could have been cleared up with such apparent ease. If Richard were guilty, Henry VII could have moved to punish the men employed for the black deed immediately after the Battle of Bosworth. He did nothing. The man Green did not die until the following year. It is on record that sums of money were paid to Black Will for two more years. The chief accomplices, Sir James Tyrell and Dighton, were both alive and were received into Henry’s open favor. Tyrell was given many honors and appointments, and Dighton was presented with the living of Fullbright.
If Richard were not guilty, it is easy to understand why nothing was done and why no official announcement was made until all of the conspirators had been done away with, excepting Dighton who, according to the History, “indeed yet walketh on alive, in good possibility to be hanged ere he die.”
If the testimony of even one of these men had been made public, the mystery would not have continued until a solution of it was sought in an examination of the teeth and bones found in the Tower; at a time when all of the alleged tools of the wicked uncle had been moldering in their graves for centuries and could not be summoned from the shades for questioning.
There is one piece of vital evidence supplied by a man who can be classified as an eyewitness, the only man, in fact, who was in a position to know the truth. He did not leave his testimony in writing nor did he give any verbal statement. But he performed an act which truly spoke as loud as any words.
It has seemed fitting to leave the story of what he did until the end.
To provide this incident with a proper background, it will be necessary to retell in part the story of the killing of the two princes as it appears in the History.
“Whereupon,” says the History, “he [Richard] sent one John Green, whom he especially trusted, unto Sir Robert Brackenbury, constable of the Tower, with a letter and credence also, that the same Sir Robert should in any wise put the two children to death. This John Green did his errand unto Brackenbury, kneeling before Our Lady in the Tower, who plainly answered he would never put them to death, to die therefore.” The meaning of which is that the constable would die himself rather than commit such a crime. Then the story proceeds with the sending of Tyrell to the Tower later. “Wherefore, on the morrow, he sent him to Brackenbury with a letter, by which he was commanded to deliver Sir James all the keys of the Tower for one night, to the end he might then accomplish the king’s pleasure.” There is a final reference to the constable in the report. “Whereupon they say that a priest of Sir Robert Brackenbury took up the bodies again, and secretly interred them.”
Sir Robert was the one man, therefore, who knew if the princes were murdered on Richard’s orders. On the other hand, if they were alive and still in the Tower when Richard’s reign reached its early ending, he was in a position to know that also.
Now Sir Robert Brackenbury was an honorable man. Nothing has been said or written against him, not a hint of criticism is found in the records of the day, not a jot of malice, nor a tittle of complaint. It has been made clear that even the History absolved him of all blame.
When the word reached London that the crucial battle was impending between the army of the king and the invading forces of Henry of Richmond, Sir Robert Brackenbury gathered a few horsemen about him and set out for the scene of action. It was a long and hard ride from London to the bogs on the borders of Leicestershire and Warwickshire where the battle would be fought, more than one hundred miles as the crow flies. It is difficult to estimate what the actual distance was over the twisting, shifting, treacherous, unpaved roads of that day. Sir Robert and his men had to “flog their horses all the way from London” to cover the ground in time. The impatience of this brave knight can be understood, hasting to strike a blow against the infamous uncle who had commanded the murder of his nephews, riding madly through the Midlands, galloping through gaping lanes of watchers in the towns, forgetting the need for sleep and food!
But hold! When Sir Robert reached Sutton Cheney, he turned off the road to Dickon’s Nook where King Richard was said to be. When he saw the royal standard flapping in a light breeze above the tents, he pulled up. With a sigh of relief, he slipped out of his saddle. He was in time, after all!
Sir Robert had made that furious ride in order to lend his sword to the cause of the king and not to Henry of Richmond. What is more, he fought the next day both boldly and well and gave up his life in the final stages, a short few moments before Richard made his magnificent last effort by charging almost singlehanded into the ranks of the Lancastrians.
It was a sad thing, for Sir Robert was a brave and honorable knight and he deserved to live longer. And it was an unfortunate thing for history that his tongue and hand were stilled.
But can more than one meaning be read into what he did? The princes had not been killed when he led his horsemen out through the Ald Gate and turned in the direction of the Great North Road.