"Nay, by my troth, mine heart was never lighter. Misunderstand me not. The picture that my mind now draws is sad, 'tis true. But verily do I tell thee, Bradley, mine eye enjoys the sight. What song is there so sweet as that which telleth to our hearts a tale of woe?"
Again doth Richard triumph. The ship sails quickly through the water, brushing aside the difficulties that would impede its progress. Gloucester steps o'er the rail and takes possession of the cargo.
Thus, after the disgraceful scene in the Cathedral of St. Paul, when Doctor Shaw preached his now notorious sermon on the bastardy of young Edward and his brother, and after the Lord Mayor and the Duke of Buckingham had wrung from a small gathering of London's citizens an unwilling consent to the crown being placed upon the head of Richard, instead of on our gentle, rightful, boyish King, Richard was crowned with great pomp and ceremony, and ruled England as the rightful heir by birth, whilst his young nephew lay within the Tower, uncrowned, a stain attempting to hang upon his name, and treated as a malefactor, who should have worn the diadem of England.
Richard's court was now removed to Crosby Place, where the boar bedecked himself and his surroundings with all the gaudy finery, of which he was so fond.
Then whisperings began to circulate, to the effect that both of the little Princes (for the people all believed that little York was also there) had been murdered in the Tower. This tale, which soon became general court gossip, was never contradicted by the friends of our new King Richard, and therefore it soon came to be believed about the court, from whence the people had it, and believed. Some said that Tyrrell, with an order from the usurping King, went to the Tower and took full charge thereof for but one night. That with him went three others which, whilst the young Princes slept, smothered them to death. This was the version most generally believed, and, to my mind, it indeed seemeth a likely tale, in so far, of course, as it refers to young Edward; for well did my friend and I know that little York was far from London at that time; though where he was we knew not. We dreaded telling to the Queen this news, and therefore waited for some time before we again visited the Sanctuary. When at length we did go, we were saved from again inflicting torture on this poor woman. Lord Stanley, who had been released from his imprisonment but a few days previous and now had been appointed to the office of Steward at the Palace, had been there before us and told the Queen the whole sad story of how her son had, in the night, been murdered whilst he slept.
This time the Queen was not resigned nor stupefied. Bold determination and a hunger for revenge were imprinted on her features.
When I look back to those harsh, cruel days of misery for that woman, I compare her, in my mind, with those savage tribes which dwell in that distant land beyond the seas, discovered by that Genoese sailor. 'Twas told to me, by Cabot and his son, that they, when injured, show but little spleen; but with deliberation and the greatest care they plan, with wonderous skill, some grand invention that enables them to have revenge in the most complete and properest of ways.
Cold and deliberate was the ex-Queen, as she informed us that she had sent her son, Dorset (which had returned, after leaving the little Duke of York in a Sanctuary in France) with a letter to the Earl of Richmond, who then resided, in exile, at the court of Brittany, asking him to take up arms in her cause, and his own, and fight King Richard, with the crown of England as the stake.
"I have decided on this course," said the ex-Queen, "because I realize that my son, the Duke of York, may never rule so long as Richard lives. If Richmond doth accept mine offer, and if he wins the crown away from the murderous Usurper, then will I make him regent during the minority of my little Richard. All this I have set forth distinctly in my letter to the Earl. I also promised him my daughter Elizabeth's hand in marriage. Such offers, methinks, no sane man would refuse, unless he be a coward, which 'tis not possible for him to be. 'Tis true he belongs to the Lancastrian party, which hath ever been our enemies; but, under the circumstances in which I now find myself placed, I cannot choose, but must accept that which is best for my poor son's welfare. Therefore I have asked for Richmond's aid."