The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [64]
“I gather the warning is meant for me,” Strangways said. “Thanks, Weldon. Once again I strongly advise you to call the police.”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to bed.” Strangways rose. His lean face was taut with anger. “I admire you in a way, Weldon, but you’re the biggest fool in this pack of fanatics.”
He walked toward the door, but he walked slowly; and when Liz spoke he stopped, as if he had been expecting her question.
“The letter clears Richard? How, Dick? Can’t you tell us what is in it, even if you won’t show us?”
“I’m sorry,” Weldon said regretfully. “I’ve said too much already.”
Strangways turned. His eyes had a wild glow that reminded Thomas of Weldon. “Can’t you guess? There’s only one significant charge, and only one way of clearing Richard of it. The letter is from the boys’ sister. She says she has seen them or heard from them. Is that right, Weldon? The princes were still alive in the early months of 1485?”
Weldon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to; Strangways’ deduction was the only possible answer.
“But damn it all,” Strangways exclaimed. “Don’t you see, Weldon? That proves the letter is a fake.”
“Typical anti-Ricardian reasoning,” Weldon said bitterly. “Richard killed the princes, therefore anything that proves his innocence must be false.”
“But Buck saw the letter.” Strangways’ voice shook with suppressed fury. He was trying so hard to control himself that his face turned bright red. “He was Richard’s first defender; don’t you suppose he would have mentioned that in his book if it had been in the letter?”
“Ah!” Weldon whirled to face him, his slight figure braced as if for physical combat. “So you admit the letter did exist!”
Strangways was speechless. Odd strangled noises issued from his open mouth.
“That doesn’t necessarily follow,” Jacqueline said.
“But Sir Richard has a point. There would be no reason for Buck to invent or fake such a letter; if he wanted to invent evidence, it would have been something more conclusive—” She caught Thomas’s eye and turned pink.
“My God, Jacqueline,” Thomas said plaintively. “Et tu?”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” said Strangways, who had recovered his powers of speech, though he was still flushed. “I’m not leaving. You’ll have to carry me out of here bodily if you want to get rid of me. I wouldn’t miss that meeting tomorrow for a million dollars.”
“I shouldn’t allow you to leave if you wanted to,” Weldon said between tight lips. “You will stay and see, and admit your error before the world.”
“That will be the day,” said Strangways.
Liz stood up. The folds of her skirt rippled as she walked across the room and stood next to Weldon. She took his arm. “Don’t waste time arguing with him.”
Weldon put his hand over hers. Thomas felt a strange pang; it was as if some premonition warned him, for although he did not know it, this was the last time he would see them standing side by side in the magnificence of golden crowns and shining robes, the shadowy survival of a past that had never lived except in the legend it bred.
Arms locked, the pair moved toward the door, and Strangways stepped back to let them pass, with a deliberate inclination of his head. When they had gone, Thomas sighed. Strangways looked at him.
“Yes,” he said. “I know…. And I’m sorry, in away, for what is going to happen.”
II
Thomas felt as if he had been wearing his costume for a week, but before he took it off he couldn’t resist one last look in the mirror. He doubted that he would ever again appear in coronet and fur-trimmed robes.
The image that confronted him was something of a shock. The debonair duke of the preceding night was a nightmarish figure—a specter out of Clarence’s premonitory dream in the Tower, dead and drowned and dragged out to dry. The wig had gone stringy, as cheap wigs are wont to do when wet; the robe was wrinkled and stained; and in the cold light of dawn the crown was obviously paste.
Thomas was about to lower himself thankfully onto his bed when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he said, in a resigned voice. He recognized the knock.