The Gallows Murders

fear. Kemble stood in a corner, arms crossed, staring fearfully at us. I shifted my gaze. Oh, horror upon horror! What a dreadful chamber that was! Now you know old Shallot, I have seen the terrors. I’ve been pursued by the demon which stalks at midday; but even now, decades later, I still have nightmares about that sinister place. It was shaped in the form of a box, the walls made of brick: no window, no decoration, nothing to ease the eye. The floor was wooden; someone had laid down a very thick woollen carpet but this had begun to decay and rot. A huge beam stood upright in the centre of the room, with hooks driven into it: tattered, dusty, cobwebbed cloths hung there. There was a rickety table, stools and chairs, yet the real horror was the bed partly obscured by the beam. Only when I moved away did I understand my master's gasp of surprise. Oh, heaven forfend! Oh, Lord have pity! The bed was broad, standing on four stout wooden legs, the mattress was covered in dust and huge cobwebs stretched across the headboard. However, in the centre, lying side by side, were the pathetic remains of the two Princes: small skeletons lying together. I walked across and knelt beside the bed, holding the hilt of my sword before me like a cross. 'O Jesus miserere!' I muttered.
    I have seen the destruction of princes, the end of noble lives at the gibbet or block. Men of power struck down by the assassin's dagger or the poisoner's cup. I have seen palaces in flames and the marble halls of Constantinople flowing in blood. But, nothing can compare to the silent horror of those two pathetic little skeletons still dressed in the tarnished remnants of their former glory. I glimpsed mother-of-pearl on one jerkin, a jewelled dagger beneath the yellowing robes of another. A silver cross hung awry between the ribs, a jewelled bonnet, mildewed and rotten, lay between the two skulls. I stood up and peered closer. Both the jaws slightly sagged. I noticed one had teeth all rotting along the top. God be my witness, I didn't know whether to scream, cry or pray. Instead I took my cloak off and covered them. ‘You bastard!' Benjamin walked across to Kemble and, bringing his hand back, gave him a stinging slap across his face. ‘You son of Satan! Had you no pity?' Again Benjamin's hand came back, drawing a trickle of blood from Kemble's lips.
    The constable's face never changed. Benjamin pushed the constable against the wall and ran his hand over his doublet, looking for some concealed dagger or weapon. He then went across and, taking a stool, jammed it in the door to keep it open. rWhy blame me?' Kemble's voice was soft and slow. 'Did our noble King really want to find his precious Princes?'
    'Had you no pity?' Benjamin retorted. 'Did you not think these little boys deserved decent burial?' Benjamin looked round the chamber. 'But now we have our proof: caught red-handed. You cannot disprove my accusations. Sir Edward Kemble, constable of the Tower, and once keeper of the King's royal palace at Woodstock, the same place where Robert Sakker, an Oxford clerk, also worked. Two dark souls who formed a friendship forged with the evil one.'
    'Of course,' I interrupted, 'Pelleter told us how Sakker had been a clerk at a royal palace. They were born there?'
    "The records will prove my guess,' Benjamin replied. 'And when Kemble came here, he was intrigued by the stories and did his own private search. He gathered all the maps and plans and discovered two things. First, the entrance to the postern-gate over the moat, and secondly this secret chamber. He then destroyed that map and gave Spurge others which did not betray his newly found secrets.' He paused to clear the dust from his throat. 'Spurge drew new maps up, certainly at our constable's behest, and this chamber and the postern-gate became Kemble's secret. He could not confess he'd come here and found a pouch made of the finest leather, fastened at the top, containing the Privy and Great Seal of Edward the Fifth, who only reigned for a few months.' Benjamin paused. "You did find them here, didn't you, Kemble? Kept in a pouch and probably placed in a cedarwood casket, they would have stood the passage of time and been in pristine condition.'
    "But how?' I interrupted. "Why were the seals and the Princes left here so many years ago?'
    "What I suspect,' Benjamin replied, still keeping his eyes on Kemble, 'is that the Princes were not murdered by Richard the Third. They were imprisoned here, but in the