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460 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 22, 2025
But what then?" Lambert asks.' If I can't be a king, why bring me here?
"You really don't know anything, do you?' Maister Richard marvels. 'Nobody loves Richard. His reign is wrackful and shaky.
Henry will probably kill him. Then he'll have to kill firstly Richards son, secondly the Earl of Lincoln, and thirdly the Earl of Warwick He can't have stray York heirs around; no one would accept him over them, little Breton nobody that he is. Anyway, the people will make a great mourn for the dead supposed-Earl of Warwick, as they do the two princes. And that's when we bring you out: the true boy. Kill the wretch Henry. Make you king?
Yes, it grieves me sore to say, your true father was a marvellous knave and then he lost his wits. Obviously, we all pray that you'll he different. Though that's an interesting question, isn't it? What's in the blood, and what's in the mud. Your inheritance is madness, your learning is peasantry. But once we've scrubbed all the dung off well see what you really are?
You misunderstand. Only threats to the throne are killed. This is your public confession. Which will be about how you were born to low people, before a greedy priest of no significance trained you as a pretender, and a few easily fooled nobles were tricked - but now they are dead, and nobody of importance betrayed their sovereign king, and the affair is entirely over?' They've written it already.
He only has to copy it out in his own writing and sign it. As he holds the quill he remembers his dream of being another Julius Caesar, a king who writes history.
He signs.
"Kill the pretender. Do not let it be known that there was a pretender to kill."