Young Edward V. was brought to the Tower by the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, professing great loyalty and arranging that his coronation should take place on the 22nd of June following. But Richard of Gloucester was determined that if craft and strategy could accomplish his ends the next coronation would be his own. Lord Hastings, over loyal to the boy King was brought to the axe on Tower Green, and an attempt was made by the scheming Richard, who was now Protector, to prove that Edward was no true heir to the Crown. It was with a fine show of unwillingness that he accepted the call to kingship, but in July, 1483, he was crowned at Westminster. Edward, and his ten-year-old brother, Richard, disappeared. We shall return to a consideration of their fate when examining the Bloody Tower. Richard III., following the custom, gave sumptuous entertainments in the Tower to celebrate his first days as King, and the usual elaborate procession issued forth on the coronation day from the Tower gate, climbed the hill, and wended its way through the tortuous London streets to the city of Westminster, beyond. Richard seems to have spent much of his time, when in his capital, within his fortress-palace, and to have taken interest in at least one building near by. The Church of Allhallows Barking, on Tower Hill, as we shall see in Chapter VI., owes much to Richard, who appears to have considered Tower Walls thick enough to hide his evil deeds and keep out his good ones. During this reign, as we find in the _Wyatt Papers_, a State prisoner, Sir Henry Wyatt, was thrown into a Tower dungeon for favouring Tudor claims and supporting Henry of Richmond. Richard, it is said, had him tortured, but the brave soldier refused to forsake his “poor and unhappy master” (afterwards Henry VII.) and so “the King, in a rage, had him confined in a low and narrow cell where he had not clothes sufficient to warm him and was an-hungered.” The legend proceeds: “He had starved then, had not God, who sent a crow to feed His prophet, sent this and his country’s martyr a cat both to feed and warm him. It was his own relation from whom I had the story. A cat came one day down into the dungeon, and, as it were, offered herself unto him. He was glad of her, laid her on his bosom to warm him, and, by making much of her, won her love. After this she would come every day unto him divers times, and, when she could get one, brought him a pigeon. He complained to his keeper of his cold and short fare. The answer was ‘He durst not better it.’ ‘But,’ said Sir Henry, ‘if I can provide any, will you promise to dress it for me?’ ‘I may well enough,’ said the keeper, ‘you are safe for that matter,’ and being urged again, promised him and kept his promise.” The jailor dressed each time the pigeon the cat provided, and the prisoner was no longer an-hungered. Sir Henry Wyatt in his days of prosperity, when Henry VII. had come to the throne and made his faithful