by Simon Rose
“Guards!” he hissed. “We’re trapped!”
“The chapel,” Edward said. “We can go there!”
Edward hurried along the corridor and stopped at a door hidden from view in the stone wall.
“The chapel is in here,” he said, beckoning Jack and Richard inside.
Thick stone pillars stood on either side of a central aisle. At the far end, behind a small altar, the late afternoon sun shone through a tall stained-glass window.
“This way,” said Edward.
He led the others toward a doorway in the far corner.
“There they are!” yelled a voice.
“We are discovered!” Edward shouted. “Fly!”
Jack turned and watched in despair as Richard ran headlong into Tyrell, who was entering the chapel from the opposite side, followed by three soldiers.
Then a hand grabbed Jack’s collar.
“Thought you could escape, did you?”
Jack looked around into the face of the one-eyed man, who now had a fresh bloody gash across his forehead. The man raised his hand menacingly, but was grabbed by someone from behind.
“Let me be! Look what he did to me!” growled the one-eyed man, turning his head to Tyrell.
“He’ll pay soon enough,” said Tyrell. “Now we have both of them. They go to the king.”
Both of them? thought Jack.
He frantically scanned the chapel. Edward had disappeared.
The Stolen Crown
XV
Jack and Richard were dragged up and down dark stairways until they came to a corridor decorated with luxurious tapestries and wooden carvings.
Jack suspected they were approaching the Royal Apartments, and a thick knot formed in his stomach.
Richard III will discover the truth, Jack fretted. If I’m exposed as an impostor, I’ll be killed at once. Even if I fooled him, I’ll be murdered anyway, mistaken for the real King Edward V.
The entourage arrived in front of two sturdy wooden doors. Two heavily armed men barred their entrance.
“We’ve come on orders of the king!” barked Tyrell.
“Yes, my lord,” said the two guards in unison, opening the doors and stepping aside.
“Release the princes!” Tyrell ordered the soldiers who had been restraining Jack and Richard. Then he pushed the boys ahead of him through the doorway and closed the doors behind him.
“Don’t try anything!” Tyrell said. He then strode across the room and disappeared behind a small door in the far corner.
No one else was in the room. Jack had no doubt now that this was the king’s chamber. Suspended high about the floor was a circular chandelier holding thirty or forty candles. A pair of tall elaborate candlesticks stood by the window. Above a wide fireplace to Jack’s right hung an heraldic shield in red and blue quarters, depicting lions and fleurs-de-lis. Jack had seen the same emblems on some of the tents in the Tower grounds.
Tapestries covered two of the walls. Silk drapes hung on either side of a stained glass window, which shone brightly in the setting sun. Beside the small door in the corner of the room was an elegantly framed mirror. On the other side of the door, gold drinking goblets, some encrusted with precious gems, stood on a low table.
Gazing in awe at the wealth on display, Jack thought, I hope Meg’s not been caught by the Tower guards.
“Edward, I am afraid,” Richard’s voice trembled.
Jack turned toward him and their eyes met.
“But you’re not Edward!” exclaimed Richard.
Jack grabbed Richard and pressed his hand firmly over the boy’s mouth.
“I think Edward got away,” he whispered. “And I don’t know where he is.”
Richard looked terrified.
“You must trust me,” Jack continued. “I might still be able to get us out of this if you listen to me. When we meet your uncle, just pretend I’m Edward. And don’t do anything to make him suspicious.”
Richard’s expression remained wary but a little less fearful.
“Do you understand?” Jack asked him.
Richard nodded weakly. Jack relaxed his grip and removed his hand from Richard’s mouth.
“But what if—” Richard began.
Their conversation was interrupted by Tyrell’s return.
“The king will be here shortly.”
Jack turned to see a figure emerge through the same door.
“King Richard III!” Tyrell announced.
“You have done well, Tyrell. Take your leave!” the king said in a cold voice.
“At once, Your Majesty!” he replied, leaving the room.
Richard III wore an ermine-trimmed cloak that reached to the floor. On his head, he wore a golden crown.
“Freeing the lion was clever,” said King Richard with a sneer. “But we will soon find your accomplices. Make no mistake.”
Brilliant! Meg must have escaped, Jack thought with relief.
“What do I have to do?” the king demanded. “I declared you unfit to rule. I secured the support of Parliament. All England has suffered with these wars between York and Lancaster. We cannot afford a boy king! All men know that!”
He began to pace the room.
“And yet still my enemies plot against me,” he ranted. “I have kept you here all this time, hoping that people would forget about you. But, no! There are impostors everywhere! Why, only this morning, my agents told me they spotted a boy who looked exactly like you on London Bridge. There is absolutely no end to it! I was prepared to let you both live. Yet if you persist in your escape attempts, you leave me no choice.”
“I am the rightful king!” Jack exclaimed.
“The rightful king?” mocked Richard III with a sly grin. “Some would say Henry Tudor is.”
The king edged closer, his dark eyes fixed on Jack.
“Your words sound foreign,” he murmured.
Jack thought his heart was going to burst as the king stepped even closer, staring at Jack’s hat.
“And your hair,” said the king, frowning. “It is shorter, is it not?” The king carefully studied Jack’s face. “But there is something else. I wonder.”
Jack swallowed hard, and Richard began to cry.
“Stop that snivelling, boy!” the king growled. “Are you a babe in arms?”
“Who are you?” the king asked, peering intently into Jack’s eyes.
“You will never be the true king of England!” Jack exclaimed.
“What!” the king snarled.
“Centuries from now, you will only be remembered as cruel and wicked!” Jack continued, throwing caution to the wind.
“Nonsense!”
“Your enemies will seek you out. A king deserted by all around him! Killed in battle!”
“Silence!” roared the king.
He slapped Jack across the face, knocking him down.
“Enjoy that crown while you can,” Jack shot back. “It won’t be long before it is swept from your head.”
“You sound so sure. Perhaps you are in league with the traitor, Tudor? I am a compassionate man, my nephew, but you leave me no choice. Tyrell and the others have been saying that I should be rid of you! Perhaps they are right. Tyrell!”
Immediately the door opened, and Tyrell stepped inside.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” Tyrell asked.
“Take these boys back to the White Tower at once,” ordered the king.
“By your leave, Your Majesty,” replied Tyrell.
At his signal the one-eyed man entered the room and swept up young Richard as if he were a rag doll. Tyrell grabbed Jack and bundled him into the corridor.
“And, Tyrell,” added the king, “you know what to do.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tyrell nodded, bowing his head.
Flight to the F
uture
XVI
We’re on our way to our deaths, Jack thought. Unless I can figure out a plan, I’m going to die in Edward’s place!
The one-eyed man walked ahead, dragging the weeping Prince Richard behind him.
Jack began to panic, struggling to break free of Tyrell’s grip.
Just then Edward stepped out of the shadows, brandishing the sword.
“What kind of devilry is this?” Tyrell blurted, looking back and forth from Edward to Jack.
“Now!” Edward yelled as the one-eyed man turned around, dagger in hand.
At that very moment, Meg jumped out from behind a chest and smashed a heavy pitcher over the one-eyed man’s head. He collapsed into a heap on the floor, covered in shards of pottery.
Meg pulled Richard up over the one-eyed man’s body and raced with him down the dimly lit hallway. Edward slashed Tyrell in the arm, freeing Jack from his grip, and the two boys ran after the others into the darkness.
“What is this? Sorcery?” yelled Tyrell after them.
“Keep on running!” shouted Edward.
“Guards! Guards!” Tyrell’s voice echoed.
The four fugitives regrouped next to a hidden doorway.
“In here!” Edward gasped, opening the door.
“Where are we going?” Jack asked, catching his breath.
“To the kitchen,” said Meg. “We’ll take the tunnel out from there.”
“Hardly anyone knows about this passageway,” Edward explained as he ushered his brother inside. “It is a shortcut used by the kitchen staff to reach the Royal Apartments.”
They hurried down a series of narrow winding corridors until they reached the kitchen. Once inside, Jack closed the heavy door behind them and stepped back while Edward jammed it with his sword.
“That should hold off the guards in case they have followed us,” said Edward.
“It’s just like you told me!” exclaimed Meg, looking at Jack and Edward. “You look like twins!”
“How did Meg find you?” Jack asked Edward.
“After we got separated in the chapel, I hid in the shadows,” Edward answered. “I watched you and Richard being taken away. Then I ran into Meg, quite literally. She seemed to know me, although I knew that I had never seen her before.”
“When His Majesty explained everything to me,” Meg added, “it all made sense. And look at the jewels he gave me!”
She held out a small pouch in the palm of her hand.
“Meg told me about the tunnel. Those jewels are but a small price to pay for our freedom,” said Edward.
They froze as the sound of heavy footsteps came from the passageway behind the door.
“Time to get out quick,” said Meg.
There was a loud thump as the guards crashed into the kitchen door. The sword held, but barely. Meg quickly ducked into the tunnel under the steps.
“Break it down!” they heard Tyrell order the guards.
The door was hammered again, and the blade of the sword began to buckle.
“Hurry!” said Jack, waving to Edward and Richard to follow him.
Jack entered the dark tunnel. He could see Meg’s silhouette at the far end as she emerged into the moonlight. Then, without warning, only a few feet ahead of him, the roof collapsed in a thick cloud of dust. Jack scrambled backward, dodging falling stones.
“What is happening?” called Edward.
“The tunnel,” gasped Jack, shaking his head, as he staggered back into the kitchen. “The roof’s collapsed! We can’t get out that way.”
“What shall we do now?” Richard asked, his voice trembling.
“You must use the box to escape,” Edward calmly said. “My brother and I are both grateful for your help. But this appears to be our fate, not yours. The box is your only chance.”
“No! You’re both coming with me,” Jack insisted, as he pulled out the letterbox. “We must all link arms.”
“No, Jack,” protested Edward. “You don’t know if the box will work for all of us.”
The pounding at the kitchen door grew louder, and finally the sword broke.
“Edward, please!” Richard pleaded with his brother.
“We can’t risk it,” said Edward.
The door gave way.
“Hold on, and don’t let go!” Jack shouted.
He linked arms with the two princes, opened the box and gave the wheel a sharp turn as the soldiers tumbled into the kitchen.
A Twist in Time
XVII
Jack was relieved to discover he’d returned to his own bedroom. But there was no sign of Edward or Richard.
They must be lost in time! Jack thought sadly. Or maybe they didn’t make it.
He put the letterbox down next to the history book on his desk.
I wonder if I’ve really changed history after all. He reached for the book, a little afraid of what he might discover.
Suddenly, the drawer of the letterbox popped open. Inside was a sheet of paper. He pulled it out and saw that it was a letter dated July 18, 1869.
Dear Jack,
When you read this, over five hundred years will have passed since we last met, although to you I would imagine it feels like only yesterday. Despite what the history books say, Richard and I did survive. And we did travel forward but only to the year 1800.
Our journey with you was not my first experience of time travel. I am sure you remember when I snatched the box from your grasp the second time you came to the Tower. At first, I was frightened when the Tower vanished, and I thought I was dreaming, but I know now that I was transported to your time.
I arrived in your bedchamber and saw the book on your desk open at a portrait of King Richard III, but I could not read the modern text that accompanied it.
I tore the page from your book and placed it inside the box to see if the text would also change. And that is how I was able to read of my destiny. I knew then that unless my brother and I escaped, we would surely meet the fate your history book described.
Jack put down the letter and opened the book. Sure enough, a page had been torn out.
So I did change history.
Smiling, he picked up the letter again and continued to read.
Then I heard someone outside your door and realized I must return to my own time if I was to save my brother and spare you the fate that awaited me. I turned the wheel on the box, but nothing happened. I then tried the opposite direction and returned to 1483.
We have built new lives for ourselves in this century. I have instructed my family to take great care of the letterbox, so that someday it will find its way to you.
Now that my brother and I are coming to the ends of our lives, I wanted to send you one last note, to put your mind at ease. You saved us, Jack. Rest assured of that. You rescued the Princes in the Tower. God bless you, Jack.
Jack noticed that there was something else in the drawer. He pulled out a black and white photograph.
The photograph showed two old men sitting beside a low table. Their pale eyes were unmistakable. It was Edward and Richard! On the table, Edward’s right hand rested on a very familiar object: the box from 1483.
Jack turned over the photograph. Jackson’s Fine Portrait Studio was stamped on the reverse side. Below the stamp were the scrawled words Mr. King X 2.
Jack stared into the eyes of the old man he had known as the young King Edward V. Then the image rapidly faded away, and the paper crumbled to dust in Jack’s hand. An instant later, the words of the letter slowly began to unravel and disappear, until all that remained was a blank page. Then it also disintegrated.
A breeze blew through the open window, and the remnants of the letter and photograph scattered in the wind. Scooping up the box, Jack tested the wheel. It no longer turned in either direction. Its magic was gone.
<
br /> Jack placed the letterbox on the corner of his desk, took off Edward’s clothes and hid them on the shelf in his closet. Then he crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The Two Mr. Kings
XVIII
It was late in the morning when Jack awoke, his stomach rumbling.
“I heard you getting up,” said his mother, as Jack entered the kitchen. “You must be hungry. How about some eggs?”
“Thanks,” said Jack, sitting down.
“Remember our family tree that Dad was researching?” Jack asked his mother as she served him.
“Yes, I remember.”
“How far did Dad get?”
“He was able to trace the family’s ancestry back a long way, but he drew a blank at around the turn of the nineteenth century. The first English census was in 1801, and before that date records are harder to find. Dad didn’t really have the time to trace back any further than Edward King.”
“Edward King!” said Jack, almost choking on his eggs.
“Actually, there were two Mr. Kings in your family tree,” said his mother. “They were brothers.”
“What!”
“No one knows where they came from, but they’re both buried in the churchyard right here in the village. Their gravestones are next to the old oak tree under the church tower.”
“Pardon me,” said Jack, abruptly getting up from the table.
He bolted out of the kitchen without closing the door behind him, raced down the path to the sidewalk and sprinted in the direction of the churchyard.
Flinging the churchyard gate open, Jack ran over to the oak tree by the church tower. There were several very old gravestones there—all from the 1800’s.
Jack carefully scanned the weathered stones. Finally, he spotted two close together that had sunk deep into the earth. He crouched down and read the first inscription.
Here lies Alice King
Born 26 May 1804
Died 3 November 1861
May she Rest in Peace
in the Kingdom of God
Her beloved husband
Edward King
