Free In the Shadow of the Crown by Jean Plaidy

Warwick, who had a claim to the throne.”
    “I know. I am sorry it was my grandfather who behaved so.”
    “It is the lust for power. The glitter of the crown. Your grandfather felt it necessary. He was a man who never murdered for the sake of revenge or such motives—only when he feared the security of the crown.”
    “Does that excuse him?” I asked.
    “In the eyes of some who believe his motives were for the good of the country, yes. Those who think it is for the love of personal aggrandizement and power, no. And some believe that to murder in any circumstances is a mortal sin. You see, when there is more than one claimant to the throne the result can be civil war. Your grandfather, I am convinced, thought that should be stopped at all costs, and if the death of one man can save the livesof many which would be lost if there were war … his actions could be justified.”
    “And what do you believe?”
    “That each case should be judged by its merits.”
    “Then you would excuse the murder of the Princes in the Tower?”
    “Ah, you are getting into deep water, Princess. That remains a mystery, and it is always unwise to judge without being in possession of all the facts.”
    “Is one ever in possession of all of them?”
    “Hardly ever, I imagine.”
    “Then it is always unwise to judge.”
    He smiled that very sweet and gentle smile which I was growing to love. He said, “I see you are a very logical princess. One must be sure of one's premise when in discussion with you.”
    I liked to lure him into talking about himself. He had stories to tell of his first five years at Stourton Castle with his brothers and sister. Henry and Arthur were older than he was, and after his birth Geoffry and Ursula had joined the nursery. I had often heard the Countess talk of them, and I could well imagine that happy household presided over by my dear friend and governess, for most certainly she would give to her own children the same loving care which she had bestowed on me.
    He told me how he had loved the Charterhouse at Sheen, where he had spent five years. Like myself, he had taken to learning and had always had the desire to add to his store of knowledge. In many ways we were very much alike. I suppose that was why, in such a short time, we had become such good friends.
    “Your father always interested himself in me,” he told me. “He could not forget what happened to my uncle. He carried his father's conscience.”
    I glowed with pleasure because of this. I wanted so much for my father to be a good man as well as handsome and distinguished and able to shine above all others. I had uneasy twinges when I heard about the birth of Henry Fitzroy after his elevation, both of which had caused great sorrow to my mother.
    “The King insisted on paying for part of my education,” Reginald told me. “He always calls me cousin. Then I went to Oxford, and there my tutor was Doctor Thomas Linacre who, I believe, was concerned with your education.”
    “Oh yes—and my Uncle Arthur's too. He is a great scholar.”
    “I owe him much. My mother always intended that I should go in the Church. I think my father expressed the wish that I should do so before he died.”
    “And do you intend to?”
    “Yes… but later. It is a decision I do not want to take just yet. I want to do more study. I want to travel more. I might wish to marry.”
    “Yes,” I said. “Perhaps you will.”
    He smiled at me and I felt a sudden lifting of the heart. I thought: Suppose they were to choose Reginald for my husband, how should I feel? But of course they would not. In my position I should be reserved for a ruler. I should be betrothed when it was convenient to make some treaty. That did not matter much—the treaty would surely be broken before the marriage took place.
    “In the meantime,” he was saying, “I have seen something of the world and I shall see more if I am as fortunate as I have been so far. People have been good to me in my