"Don't think about it," James told himself as he rode to London. The weather, itself, seemed to share in his misery. Darkness was falling on a grey day. It was drizzling steadily, and a sharp, cold wind compelled Sir James Tyrell to pull his collar up around his neck.
Only one servant rode with him, the loyal Tom. It would have been better to have no witnesses, but he needed one other man for what he was about to do.
The horses plodded on, but neither man spoke as they drew closer to London. There was nothing to discuss. Sir James' path had been set for him when he threw in his lot with Richard III in his bid for the throne.
Everyone knew that sooner or later something would have to be done about the Princes in the Tower. The claim of Richard III would always be questioned as long as the princes were alive.
Sir James had been dreading the day that Richard would summon him about the princes. He knew that as Richard's oldest and most loyal ally, that that day would come, and when it did he was almost grateful for the opportunity to finally do it and end the anxious waiting.
He had not told Tom exactly what they were about to do. He had merely said that the king had ordered them to go to the Tower to see the princes. But, the look of shock, followed by a look of grim resignation that registered on Tom's face let Sir James know that Tom understood their mission.
Far too soon, the lights of London appeared in the distance. Woodenly, James began to instruct Tom. They would use the princes' pillows.
This is my entry for this week's Trifecta at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/02/trifecta-week-sixty-three.html
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