Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/constableoftowerOOainsrich HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH VOLUME IV THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER ■ii>y*ifJa, ti»i^t, ^UuU' Jf-Mt^ ^enrs bill Blessing ^is JUongliters Extending his arms over his daughters, the ki?ig said somewhat feebly , but with great earnestfiess, " My blessing on ye both ! and may it rest ever with ye — ever ! Only to the great Ruler of events is k?iown the destiny in store for you. Both of ye may be queens — and should it so chance, ye will learn what cares the crown brings with it. But think only — as I have ever done — of the welfare and glory of your kingdom, and of your own honor, and ye shall reign wisely and well. " HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER. IN ONE yOLUME. WITH PORTRAIT BY HOLBEIN AND THREE ETCHINGS BY GASTON-LOUIS-STEPHANE RODRIGUEZ AND GEORGES CHARDON, AFTER PAINTINGS BY J. L GEROME FERRIS Philadelphia: Printed for Subscribers only by George Barrie & Sons 9S5 A297 con )902 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER PROLOGUE THE IVILL OF HENRY yill Ivi789393 ygi^ CHAPTER I HOW THE RIGHT HIGH y4ND RENOIVNED KING HENRY THE EIGHTH WAXED GRIEVOUSLY SICK, AND WAS LIKE TO DIE The terrible reign of Henry the Eighth drew to a close. The curtain was about to descend upon one of the most tre- mendous dramas ever enacted in real life — a drama which those who witnessed it beheld with wonder and awe. The sun of royalty, which had scorched all it fell upon by the fierce- ness of its mid-day beams, was fast sinking into seas lighted up by lurid fires, and deeply stained by blood. For five-and-thirty years of Henry's tyrant sway, no man in England, however high his rank, could count his life secure. Nay, rather, the higher the rank, the greater was the insecurity. Royal descent, wealth, power, popularity, could not save the Duke of Buckingham from Henry's jealous fears. Truly spake the dying Wolsey of his dread and inex- orable master — ''Rather than miss or want any part of his will or appetite, he will endanger the loss of half his realm. Therefore, be well advised what matter ye put in his head, for you shall never put it out again." Henry was prone to suspicion, and to be suspected by him was to be doomed, for he was unforgiving as mistrustful. His favor was fatal ; his promises a snare ; his love destruction. Rapacious as cruel, and lavish as rapacious, his greediness was insatiable. He confiscated the possessions of the Church, and taxed the laity to the uttermost. The marvel is, that the iron yoke he placed upon his subjects was endured. But he had a firm hand, as well as a strong will. Crafty as well as resolute, he framed laws merely to deride them and break them. He threw off 3 4 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iPrologm the Pope's authority in order to make himself supreme head of the Church. Some were executed by him for maintain- ing the Papal supremacy, others put to death for denying certain Catholic tenets. To prove his even-handed justice, Romanists and Lutherans were linked together, and conducted in pairs to the stake. At one moment he upheld the new doc- trines ; on the next, he supported the old religion. Thus he used the contending parties for his own purposes, and made each contribute to his strength. The discord in the Church pleased him, though he feigned to reprove it. His counsel- lors trembled at his slightest frown, and dared not for their heads give him honest advice. His parliaments were basely subservient, and confirmed his lawless decrees without an effort at resistance. A merciless system of religious persecution was commenced and carried out according to his changeful opin- ions. The fires at Smithfield were continually burning. The scaffold on Tower Hill reeked with the blood of the noble and the worthy. The state dungeons were crowded. Torture was applied. Secret examinations were allowed. Defence was denied the accused ; and a bill of attainder smote the unfortunate person against whom it was procured as surely as the axe. The wisest, the noblest, the bravest, the best of Henry's subjects were sacrificed to his resentments and caprice. Up- rightness could not save More and Fisher, nor long services and blind obedience, Wolsey and Cromwell. Age offered no protection to the octogenarian Lord Darcy, and piety failed to preserve the abbots of Fountains, Rivaux, and Gervaux. But not alone did men perish by the stem behests of this ruthless tyrant, this worse than Oriental despot, but women I — ^women of incomparable beauty, who had shared his couch, and had every claim upon his tenderness and compassion. But pity was not in his nature. When love was gone, dislike and hate succeeded. Startling and almost incredible is the history of his six marriages. No parallel can be found to Chap. /] HENRY AT THE POINT OF DEATH 5 it save in wild and grotesque fiction. It reads like a Blue- beard story, yet, alas ! it was fearful reality. Katherine of Aragon, faultless and loving, was divorced to make way for the lovely Anne Boleyn, who, in her turn, was decapitated to give place to the resistless Jane Seymour. The latter lived not long enough to weary her capricious consort, but was suc- ceeded by Anne of Cleves, whose want of personal attraction caused the annulment of her marriage and Cromwell's de- struction. Next came the bewitching Catherine Howard, who was butchered like Anne Boleyn ; and lastly, Catherine Parr, saved only from the block by her own spirit and pru- dence, as will be presently related. Twice was the nuptial knot forcibly untied — twice was it sundered by the axe. Pre- texts for his violence were never wanting to Henry. But the trials of his luckless spouses were a mockery of justice. The accused were prejudged ere heard. The king's pleasure was alone consulted. From his vengeance there was no escape. When it was a question whether the beautiful Jane Sey- mour's life should be preserved, or that of the infant she was about to bring into the world, Henry unhesitatingly sacrificed the queen, brutally observing, ' ' that he could readily get other wives, but might not have other children." But not only did young and lovely women suffer from his barbarity ; venerable dames fared no better. Execrable was the manner in which the aged and dignified Countess of Salisbury was slaughtered. A list of Henry's victims would swell pages : their number is almost incredible. For nearly five-and-thirty years had this royal Bluebeard ruled the land ; despoiling the Church, plundering his subjects, trampling on the necks of his nobles, disregarding all rights, divorcing and butchering his wives, disgracing and beheading his ministers ; yet all the while, in the intensity of his egotism, entertaining the firm belief that he was one of the wisest and most merciful of kings, and arro- 6 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOJVER iPrologue gating to himself the title of Heaven's vicar and High Min- ister on earth. But the end of this monstrous tyranny approached. For months the moody monarch had shut himself up within his palace at Westminster like a sick lion in his den, and it ap- peared almost certain he would never quit it alive. Nothing could be gloomier than the present aspect of the court, or offer a greater contrast to its former splendor and gaiety. The pompous pageantries and shows erstwhile exhibited there were over ; the sumptuous banquets and Belshazzar-like festi- vals, of which the monarch and his favorite attendants par- took, had ceased j boisterous merriment was no longer heard — laughter indeed was altogether hushed ; gorgeously-appar- elled nobles and proudly-beautiful dames no longer thronged the halls ; ambassadors and others were no more admitted to the royal presence ; knightly displays were no more made in the precincts of the palace ; the tennis-court was unfrequented, the manege-ground unvisited, all the king's former amusements and occupations were neglected and abandoned. Music was no longer heard either within or without, for light inspiriting sounds irritated the king almost to madness. Henry passed much of his time in his devotions, maintaining for the most part a sullen silence, during which he brooded over the past, and thought with bitter regret, not of his misdeeds and cruel- ties, but of bygone pleasures. Not more changed was the king's court than the king him- self. Accounted, when young, one of the handsomest princes in Europe, possessing at that time a magnificent person, a proud and majestic bearing, and all that could become a sovereign, he was now an unwieldy, unshapely, and bloated mass. The extraordinary vigor of his early days gave promise of long life ; but the promise was fallacious. Formerly he had been accustomed to take prodigious exercise, and to en- gage in all manly sports ; but of late, owing to increasing obesity, these wholesome habits were neglected, and could Chap. /] HENRY AT THE POINT OF DEATH 7 never be resumed ; his infirmities offering an effectual bar to their continuance. Though not positively intemperate, Henry- placed little restraint upon himself in regard to wine, and none whatever as to food. He ate prodigiously. Nor when his life depended upon the observance of some rules of diet would he refrain. Engendered in his frame by want of exercise, and nourished by gross self-indulgence, disease made rapid and fearful prog- ress. Ere long he had become so corpulent, and his limbs were so much swollen, that he was almost incapable of move- ment. Such was his weight, that machinery had to be em- ployed to raise him or place him in a chair. Doors were widened to allow him passage. He could not repose in a couch from fear of suffocation ; and unceasing anguish was occasioned by a deep and incurable ulcer in the leg. Terrible was he to behold at this period. Terrible to hear were his cries of rage and pain, which resembled the roaring of a wild beast. His attendants came nigh him with reluctance and affright, for the slightest inadvertence drew down dreadful impreca- tions and menaces on their heads. But the lion, though sick to death, was a lion still. While any life was left him, Henry would not abate a jot of the sovereign power he had exercised. Though his body was a mass of disease, his faculties were vigorous as ever ; his firm- ness was unshaken, his will absolute. To the last he was true to himself. Inexorable he had been, and inexorable he remained. His thirst for vengeance was insatiable as ever, while his suspicions were more quickly aroused and sharper than heretofore. But during this season of affliction, vouchsafed him, per- chance, for repentance from his numerous and dire offences, there was no endeavor to reconcile himself with man, or to make his peace with Heaven. Neither was there any out- ward manifestation of remorse. The henchmen and pages, stationed at the doors of his chamber during the long hours of 8 THE CONST/tBLE OF THE TOIVER {Prologtu night, and half slumbering at their posts, with other watchers by his side, were often appalled by the fearful groans of the restless king. But these might be wrested from him by pain, and were no proof that conscience pricked him. Not a word escaped his lips to betoken that sleep was scared away by the spectres of his countless victims. What passed within that dark and inscrutable breast no man could tell. CHAPTER II OF THE SNARE LAID BY HER ENEMIES FOR QUEEN CATH ERINE PARR, AND HOIV SHE FELL INTO IT So alarmed had been the fair dames of Henry's court by his barbarous treatment of his spouses, as well as by the extraor- dinary and unprecedented enactment he had introduced into Catherine Howard's bill of attainder, that when the royal Bluebeard cast his eyes among them in search of a new wife, they all shunned the dangerous distinction, and seemed inclined to make a similar response to that of the beautiful Duchess of Milan, who told Henry, "that unfortunately she had but one head, — if she had two, one of them should be at his Majesty's service.** At length, however, one was found of somewhat more mature years than her immediate predecessors, but of un- impaired personal attractions, who had sufficient confidence in her discretion, and trust in her antecedents, to induce her to venture on the hazardous step. This was Catherine, daughter of Sir Thomas Parr, of Kendal, then in her second widowhood, she having married, in the first instance, the eldest son of Lord Borough of Gainsborough, and, on his demise, the Lord Latimer. By neither marriage had there Chap, m PLOT /iGAINST CATHERINE PARR 9 been children, so no obstacle was offered to her union with the king on this score. Henry espoused her, and was well satisfied with his choice. In proof of his high estimation, he appointed her Regent of the kingdom, prior to his departure on the expedition to France in 1544, the year after his mar- riage. So great was Catherine Parr's prudence, and so careful her conduct, that in spite of all intrigues against her, she never lost her influence over her fickle and suspicious spouse. The queen inclined to the new doctrines, and consequently those who adhered to the old religion became her enemies. But she gave them little ground for attack, and her hold upon the king's affections secured her against their malice. Age and infirmities had subdued the violence of Henry's passions : hence, Catherine had no reason to fear lest she should be superseded by some more attractive rival. Besides, she had prudence enough to keep temptation out of the king's way, and she gradually and almost imperceptibly gave a more austere character to his court and entertainments. It was at her instance, though Henry was scarcely conscious of the prompting, that the pageantries and festivities in which he had once so greatly delighted were discontinued. As Henry's ailments increased, and he became altogether confined to the palace, Catherine would fain have acted as his nurse, but this Henry would not permit ; and fearing his suspicions might be aroused, the queen did not urge the point. But she was frequently with him, and ever ready to attend his summons. Under the circumstances in which he was placed, her dis- course might have been very profitable to the king if he had chosen to listen to it ; but he would brook no monition, and his sternness on one or two occasions when the attempt was made, warned her to desist. But Catherine was somewhat of a controversialist, and, being well read in theological mat- ters, was fully able to sustain a dispute upon any question that might arise, and, though she never contradicted, she not lO THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologiu unfrequently argued with him, yielding in the end, as was discreet, to his superior judgment. One day she was suddenly summoned by the king, and, accompanied by her confidante. Lady Herbert, she prepared, without any misgiving, to attend upon him. Catherine Parr's charms were of a kind which is more fully developed in the summer of life than in the spring. At thirty- five she was far handsomer than when she was ten years younger. Her complexion was of exquisite clearness, and her skin smooth as satin ; her face was oval in form, the principal feature being slightly aquiline ; her eyes were large, dark and languid in expression, with heavy eyelids, over-arched by well-defined jetty brows. Her raven locks were banded over her marble forehead, and partly concealed by her rich head- dress. Her figure was tall and perfectly proportioned, full, but not over-much. Her deportment was majestic and queenly, her manner calm, collected, almost cold ; but, not- withstanding her gravity of aspect and staidness of demeanor, there was something in Catherine's looks that seemed to inti- mate that she could smile, ay, and indulge in innocent merri- ment, when alone among her women, or unawed by her im- perious spouse. On the present occasion she was richly attired, as was her wont. A circle of gold, ornamented with diamonds, rubies, and small pearls, encompassed her brows. Attached to this coronet was a coif of golden wire, while an embroidered couvre-chef depending from it, completed her headgear. Her gown was of gold damask, raised with pearls of damask silver, with a long close-fitting stomacher, and sleeves tight at the shoulder, but having loose hanging cuffs of fur, beneath which could be discerned slashed and puffed under-sleeves of crimson satin. A necklace of jacinth adorned her throat, and her waist was surrounded by a girdle of goldsmith's work, with friar's knots, enamelled black. A pomander box termi- nated the chain of the girdle, which reached almost to the feet. Chap. Ill PLOT AGAWST CATHERINE PARR ii Her attendant, Lady Herbert, sister to Henry's third wife, Jane Seymour, and herself a very lovely woman, was likewise richly habited in a gown of chequered tissue, fashioned like the queen's. On Catherine's entrance into the royal presence, Henry was seated in his cumbrous chair. Ever fond of rich habili- ments, even when laboring under mortal disease, his predi- lections did not desert him. A gown of purple caffa damask, furred with sables, and having a border embroidered and fringed with Venice gold, was thrown over his shoulders. His overgrown trunk was enveloped in a doublet of purple satin, embroidered all over with pearls ; and his lower limbs were wrapped in a mantle of black cloth of gold upon bawd- kin. On his head he wore a velvet skull-cap, richly set with pearls and other precious stones. But these trappings and ensigns of royalty only served to make the sick monarch's ap- pearance more hideous. It was dreadful to look upon him as he sat there, with his features so bloated as scarcely to retain a vestige of humanity, and his enormously bulky person. No one would have recognized in this appalling object the once handsome and majestic Henry the Eighth. The only feature unchanged in the king was the eye. Though now deep sunken in their orbits, his eyes were keen and terrible as ever, proving that his faculties had lost none of their force. On the king' s right, and close beside him, stood the astute and learned Stephen Gardiner, who, though he had signed Henry's divorce from Katherine of Aragon, and written the famous oration De Vera Ohedientid in the monarch's behalf, was yet secretly devoted to the Romish faith, and strongly opposed to the new doctrines. Clad in his stole, scarlet chimere, white rochet, and black cassock, he wore a black skull-cap set low upon the forehead, and having flaps that covered the ears and neck. Gardiner was singularly ill- favored; very swarthy, beetle-browed, and hook-nosed. Moreover, he had wide nostrils, like those of a horse, and a 12 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologue hanging look. By nature he was fierce, of great boldness, extremely zealous and indefatigable, and enjoyed much credit with his royal master, which he was supposed to have em- ployed against the Reformers. On the other side of the monarch was stationed the Lord Chancellor Wriothesley — pronounced Wrottesley, — a sombre-looking man, with harsh features, and a high, bald forehead. Robed in a black gown, bordered with sable fur, he had altogether the air of a grand inquisitor. As a knight companion of the Garter, he wore the George and collar round his neck. Like Gardiner, the Lord Chancellor was attached to the old faith, and bitterly, though secretly, hostile to its opponents. They both entertained the belief that on the king's death the progress of the Reformation would be arrested, and the religion of Rome triumphantly restored; and to this end they had plotted together to remove the queen, as one of the chief obstacles to the accomplishment of their scheme. They inflamed the king's mind against her by re- presenting to him that her majesty was in the habit of secretly perusing religious books and manuscripts prohibited by the royal decree, offering him proof, if needed, of the truth of their assertions; and Catherine herself unwittingly played into their hands by the imprudence with which she dis- cussed certain points of doctrine with her intolerant spouse, stoutly maintaining opinions adverse to his own. Made aware of this by the king's displeasure, the plotters easily fanned the flame which had been already lighted until it burst into a blaze. He uttered angry menaces, and spoke of a committal to the Tower. But he would give her one chance of retrieving herself. She was summoned, as has been stated, and on her behavior at the interview hung her sentence. As Catherine entered, she perceived her enemies, and feared that something might be wrong, but an appearance of unwonted good-humor in the king deceived her. As she ad- Chap. 11] PLOT AGAimT CATHERINE PARR 13 vanced and made a lowly obeisance, Wriothesley offered to raise her, but she haughtily declined the offer. ** How fares your Majesty this morning? " she inquired. ** Marry, well enough," Henry replied. ** We have slept somewhat better than usual, and Butts thinks we are mending apace. ' ' ** Not too quickly, my gracious liege — ^but slowly and surely, as I trust, ' ' observed the physician, hazarding a glance of caution at the queen, which unluckily passed unnoticed. '* Heaven grant it be so !" exclaimed Catherine. "Come and sit by us, Kate," pursued Henry; adding as she placed herself on a fauteuil near him, *' You spoke so well and so convincingly yesterday, that we would fain have the Lord Chancellor and my Lord of Winchester hear you. ' * '* We cannot fail to profit by her Majesty's discourse," re- marked Gardiner, inclining his head. ** I would what I shall say might profit you, and the Lord Chancellor likewise, for ye have both need of improvement, " replied Catherine, sharply. " If his Highness will listen to me, ye shall neither of you have much more influence with him, for ye give him pernicious counsel. As to you, my Lord Chancellor, a circumstance hath been told me which, if it be true, proves the hardness of your heart, and must call down upon you his Majesty's displeasure. It is said that when Anne Askew underwent the torture in the Tower, and the sworn tormentor desisted and would not further pursue his hateful office, you yourself turned the wheel of the rack, and stretched it to the uttermost. And this upon a woman — a gentle, beau- tiful woman. Oh, my Lord, fie upon you !" "I will not deny the fact," Wriothesley replied, "and I acted only in accordance with my duty in striving to wrest an avowal of her guilt from a mischievous and stubborn heretic, who was justly convicted under his Majesty's statute of the Six Articles, wherein it is enacted that whosoever shall declare, dispute, or argue that in the blessed sacrament of the altar, 14 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologue under the form of bread and wine, there is not present really the natural body and blood of our Saviour, or that after the consecration there remaineth any substance of bread or wine, such person shall be adjudged a heretic, and shall suffer death by way of burning, without any abjuration, clergy, or sanctuary permitted. Yet, had Anne Askew recanted her errors, and submitted herself to the king's clemency, she would doubtless have been spared. ' ' "Ay, marry would she!" cried Henry. "The Lord Chancellor acted somewhat roughly, but I see not that he was to blame. You have no particular feeling for Anne Askew, I trust, Kate?" *'I have much sorrow for her, my liege," Catherine re- plied. ' * She died for her faith. ' ' "Sorrow for a sacramentarian, Kate!" exclaimed the king. " Now, by holy Mary ! you will next avouch that you are a sacramentarian yourself. ' ' "Nay, my gracious liege," interposed Gardiner. "Her Majesty may feel pity for the misguided, but she can never uphold perverse doctrines." " I know not that," replied the king. " No longer than yesterday we discussed certain points of theology together, and she denied the doctrine of transubstantiation. ' * "Your Majesty supposed so," observed Gardiner, lifting up his hands. " It could not be. ' ' "But I say it was," cried the king. "Whence she derived her arguments I cannot tell, but she stoutly main- tained them. Are ye a heretic, Kate ? Confess at once I" "This sounds like an accusation, my liege," replied the queen, rising; "and I know whence it comes," she added, glancing at her enemies. " I will answer it at once. As the Bishop of Winchester well knows, I am of the orthodox Church, of which your Majesty is the supreme head and high minister. " "And yet you deny the real presence in the Eucharist. Kate ? ' ' interrupted the king. Chap. II] PLOT AGAINST CATHERINE PARR 15 " I cannot believe that which I do not understand, sire," she replied. *' Ha ! you equivocate !" exclaimed Henry. ** It is true I You are infected — infected to the core — ^by these perverse and heretical doctrines. Since you pity Anne Askew, and deem her a martyr, you shall share her fate. My statute of the Six Articles spares none — ^however high in degree. Quit my presence, and enter it not again. Not a word ! Begone!" And as he turned a deaf ear to all her entreaties, the queen was compelled to retire, and was led out of the chamber, in a half-fainting state, by Lady Herbert. No sooner was she gone, than Gardiner and Wriothesley, who had exchanged looks of satisfaction during Henry's explosion of rage, drew near his Majesty. Doctor Butts like- wise approached the king, and said : ** Beseech your Majesty to be calm. These bursts of anger do you infinite hurt, and may even endanger your life. * * *' God's death ! man, how can I be calm under such pro- vocation?" roared Henry. "Things are come to a pretty pass when I am to be schooled by my wife. I must be ill indeed if freedoms like these, which no one ever ventured upon before, can be taken with me. ' ' * * Her Majesty, I am well assured, has unintentionally angered you, my gracious liege," said Butts. ** She will not so offend again. ' ' ** There you are in the right, doctor," rejoined Henry, sternly. *' Her Majesty will not offend again." " Do nothing hastily, sire, I implore you," cried the physi- cian. ''Withdraw, sir," returned the King. ** I have no further need of you for the present. ' ' "I cannot blame your Majesty's anger," observed Gar- diner. '* It is enough to move any man to wrath to find that he has been duped, and the queen has now revealed her real 1 6 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologus Opinions to you. She has openly braved your displeasure, and you owe it to yourself that her punishment be propor- tionate to her audacity. ' ' **Your Majesty cannot oppose your own decrees," said Wriothesley, *'and the queen's infraction of them can be proven. On the night before Anne Askew was taken to the stake, she received a consolatory message from the queen, and she thereupon sent a prohibited book to her majesty, which the queen hath in her possession." ** We will extirpate these heresies ere we die," said Henry; **and if but few hours are allowed us, by Heaven's grace they shall be employed in purging the land from the pest that afflicts it. It is not for nothing we have been appointed Heaven's vicar and high minister, as these heretics shall find. We will strike terror into them. We will begin with the queen. She shall have a warrant for her arrest. Go both of you to Sir Anthony Denny to obtain it, and bid him get the instrument impressed by the keeper of our secret stamp." *' It shall be done as your Highness enjoins," said Wriothes- ley. '* Is it your pleasure that the arrest be made at once ? " "Tarry till to-morrow, I entreat your Majesty," inter- posed Doctor Butts, who had yet lingered, in spite of the king's order to withdraw. ** Take a few hours of reflection ere you act thus severely. ' ' "What! art thou still here, knave?" cried the king. " Methought I ordered thee hence." " For the first time I have presumed to disobey you," re- plied the physician ; *' but I beseech you listen to me." **If I might counsel your Majesty, I would urge you to carry out your just resolves without delay," observed Gar- diner. " Good work cannot too soon be begun." "Thou art right," said the king. "Her Majesty shall sleep this night — if she sleep at all — in the Tower. Get the warrant, as I have bidden you, and go afterwards with a Chap, in PLOT AGAINST CATHERINE PARR 17 guard to make the arrest. And harkye, forget not to advise Sir John Gage, the Constable of the Tower, of the illustri- ous prisoner he may expect, and enjoin him to prepare accord- ingly." ** Your behests shall be obeyed," said Wriothesley, scarcely able to conceal his satisfaction. **Sir John Gage is now in the palace, if it shall please your Majesty to speak with him." Said Butts. '*That is lucky," replied the king; ** bring him to us without delay." With a covert smile of defiance at the queen's enemies, Butts departed upon his errand. As Gardiner and Wriothesley quitted the royal presence, the latter observed, in a low tone, to his companion : The queen is as good as brought to the block. ' ' **Ay, marry is she," replied Gardiner, in the same tone, " if what we have done be not undone by Gage. He is like enough to try and thwart our plans. The King trusts him ; and affirms that it was for his incorruptible honesty that he made him comptroller of the household and Constable of the Tower. Gage incorruptible, forsooth ! as if any man living — ourselves excepted — were incorruptible. ' ' ** Gage's vaunted honesty will not induce him to oppose the king," rejoined Wriothesley. ** But let him try, if he be so minded. He may as well attempt to pull down the solid walls of the Tower itself as shake Henry's resolution. And now for the warrant l" 1 8 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER iProhguc CHAPTER III OF THE MEANS OF AVOIDING THE PERIL PROPOSED BY SIR THOMAS SEYMOUR TO THE QUEEN In a state of mind bordering almost upon distraction, the queen returned to her own chamber, where, having hastily- dismissed all her attendants except Lady Herbert, she aban- doned herself to despair. " Lost ! — utterly lost !'* — she exclaimed, in accents of bitter anguish. ''Who shall save me from his wrath? Whither shall I fly to hide me ? I shall share the fate of my prede- cessors. I shall mount the same scaffold as Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. There is no escape — none. Well do I know the king is inexorable. No tears — no entreaties will move him. Pity me, dear Herbert — pity me. Help me if thou canst, for I am well-nigh at my wits' end." * * I only know one person who might perchance help your highness in this direful extremity," replied Lady Herbert. * ' My brother. Sir Thomas Seymour, would lay down his life for you. He has always longed for an opportunity of prov- ing his devotion. ' ' ''Where is Sir Thomas?" cried Catherine. "Go bring him to me straight. But no ! — it may be dangerous to him to approach me now." ' * Danger will never deter my brother from serving his queen," Lady Herbert rejoined. " But I need not seek him. Without tarrying for your Majesty's instructions, I have despatched a page to bring him hither. ' ' " Thou hast done wrong, Herbert," cried Catherine. " I feel I ought not to see him. And yet to whom else can I turn ? Heaven help me in my need !" Chap. Ill'] SEYMOUR AND THE QUEEN 19 ** There is no one, I repeat, upon whom your Majesty can more fully rely than on Sir Thomas Seymour — that I aver, ' ' rejoined Lady Herbert. " He lives but to serve you." '* If your brother be devoted to me as you represent, Her- bert, and as in truth I believe him to be, ' ' said the queen, ' * the greater is the reason why I should not drag him into this abyss with me. I will not see him." *' Your Majesty's interdiction comes too late," said Lady Herbert. "He is here." As the words were uttered, the arras which covered a lat- eral entrance to the room communicating with the ante- chamber was raised, and Sir Thomas Seymour stood before them. Beyond all question the handsomest and most gallant-look- ing personage in Henry's court — where there were many such — was the haughty Sir Thomas Seymour, younger brother of the Earl of Hertford. Possessing a tall and stately person. Sir Thomas had a noble and highly picturesque head, as may be seen in the portrait of him by Holbein. He had the lofty forehead, the fine eyes, and the somewhat pale complexion which distinguished the Seymours; but he was the hand- somest of a very handsome race, and it may be doubted whether he did not surpass in point of personal appearance his sister, the lovely Jane Seymour, to whom he bore a marked resemblance. His features were cut with extreme delicacy, but a manly character was given them by the long, brown, silky beard which descended midway down his doublet. Sir Thomas was in the prime and vigor of life, and of a very commanding presence, and neglected no advantages which could be afforded him by rich habiliments. He wore a doub- let and hose of purple velvet, paned and cut ; with a cassock likewise of purple velvet, embroidered with Venice gold and bordered with fur — and his cassock was so fashioned as to give exaggerated breadth to the shoulder — such being the mode at the time. His arms were a long Spanish rapier, with ao THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologtu elaborately wrought hilt, and dagger. His hair was shorn close, in accordance with the fashion of the period, and his head was covered with a flat velvet cap, ornamented with a balas-ruby and a crimson plume. But this cap he removed in stepping from behind the arras. Third son of Sir John Seymour, of Wolf Hall, in Wiltshire, Sir Thomas had served with great distinction in the late wars with France. In 1544 — three years before the date of this history — ^he had been made master of the ordnance for life. High in favor with the king, and uncle to Prince Edward, heir to the throne, he would have possessed much influence and importance, had he not been overshadowed by his elder brother, the Earl of Hertford, who stood foremost in Henry's regard. Of an aspiring nature, however, equally bold and unscrupulous, Seymour was greedy of political power, and de- termined to have it at any hazard and by any means. A daring conspirator, he lacked cunning and temper sufficient to mask his secret designs. His passions were fierce; his hatred undisguised ; and he had many of the qualities of Cat- iline, with whom he was subsequently compared. Haughty and insolent to his inferiors, he was more popular with the ancient nobility of Henry's court than the Earl of Hertford, who sought by condescension to ingratiate himself with the populace. Such was Sir Thomas Seymour, then in the prime of manhood, and in the full splendor of his noble personal appearance. On beholding him, the queen rose to her feet, and ex- claimed, with almost frenzied anxiety, ** Oh ! you are come, Sir Thomas. What news do you bring? Has the king's wrath abated ? Is there any hope for me ? " "Alas! madam," Seymour replied, flying towards her, ** it grieves me to the soul to be the bearer of such ill tidings to your Majesty. The king's fury is as great as ever; he will not hear a word in your defence from Sir John Gage, who is with him now. Your enemies have prevailed against you. Chap. Iin SEYMOUR AND THE QUEEN 21 The warrant is ordered for your arrest — and if the peril can- not be averted, your august person will be attached, and you will be taken forthwith to the Tower.*' ** Then I am wholly lost ! ' ' exclaimed Catherine. *' Oh ! Seymour," she continued, in a tone of half reproach, **I looked to you for aid — ^but you offer none. ' ' **I scarce dare offer such aid as is alone in my power," cried Seymour, almost fiercely; **yet circumstances almost seem to justify it. Say you would have me prevent it, and this warrant shall never be executed. ' * *'But how will you prevent it?" demanded the queen, looking at him, as if she would re?^/l his inmost soul. "Ask me not how, madam," rejoined Sir Thomas. ** But say you would have me die for you — and it shall be done." These words were uttered with such terrible significance, that Catherine could not fail to comprehend their import. " This must not be, Seymour !" she exclaimed, laying her hand upon his arm. '* You meditate some desperate design. I charge you to forego it. " *' 'Twere but to stay the hand of a ruthless tyrant, who is about to shed blood that ought to be dearer to him than his own. Let me go, I beseech you, madam. ' ' *'Noj I forbid it — peremptorily forbid it. If the king remains inflexible, I must die. Is there no way to move him?" "You know his flinty heart as well as I do, madam," Seymour rejoined, "and that he is inaccessible to all feelings of humanity. But I will seek to move him — though I much fear the result. ' ' " Plead not for me to your own danger, Seymour. You may draw down the king's anger on your own head." " No matter," replied Sir Thomas. " I will run any risk. My life will be well lost, if, by losing it, I can profit your Majesty. ' ' " Oh ! if I could obtain speech with the king once more, 22 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER ^Prologue I should not despair of melting his heart, hard though it be !" said Catherine. ** But he will not see me." **He has given peremptory orders against your admit- tance," rejoined Seymour; **and the guard and henchmen dare not for their lives disobey the mandate. Yet you must see him, and that speedily — ^but how ? — Ha ! I have it ! " he exclaimed, after a moment's pause, as if struck with a sudden idea. ''What will you say if I bring the king to you?" **That you have wrought a miracle," replied Catherine. ** But I pray you trifle not with me, Seymour." '* I trifle not, gracious madam," rejoined Sir Thomas, earnestly. " I have strong hopes of success. But you must second the scheme. I will at once to his majesty, and represent to him that the terrible shock you have sustained has been too much for you, and brought you to the point of death — that you seek forgiveness from him, but as you cannot come to him, you humbly supplicate him to come to you. ' ' ''But he will not come," cried Catherine, with something of hope in the exclamation. " I think he will," said Lady Herbert. "I am sure he will," added Seymour. "When he ap- pears, submit yourself entirely to him. I leave the rest to your sagacity. If you have letters about you from Anne Askew, or Joan Bocher, or any prohibited book, give them tome." "Here is a letter from the poor martyr, and a book of prayer, blotted with her tears, ' ' replied the queen, giving the articles in question to Seymour, who placed them in the silken bag that hung from his girdle; "keep them for me until some happier day, or keep them in memory of me ! ' ' " Speak not thus, madam, or you will rob me of my cour- age, and I shall need it all, ' ' rejoined Seymour, kneeling, and pressing the hand she extended to him reverentially to his lips. ' 'At some happier season, when all such storms as this Chap. /K] IVRIOTHESLEY /IND GARDINER FOILED 23 have passed, I may venture to remind you of the service I am about to render. ' ' * * Fear not I shall forget it, ' ' replied Catherine, with some tenderness. ' * Go ! and Heaven prosper your efforts ! ' ' And with a profound obeisance, and a look of unutterable devotion. Sir Thomas withdrew. Though Catherine was by no means so sanguine of the success of Seymour's scheme as he and his sister appeared to be, she nevertheless prepared for the part she might be called upon to play. The rest of her attendants were hastily sum- moned by Lady Herbert, and were informed that their royal mistress was dangerously ill. With every demonstration of grief, the weeping women gathered round the couch on which Catherine had extended herself, and would fain have offered her restoratives ; but she refused their aid, and would not allow her physician to be sent for, declaring she desired to die. In this way full half an hour was spent — an age it seemed to the queen, who was kept on the rack of expectation. At length, and just as Catherine's heart had begun to sink within her, a noise was heard without, and Lady Herbert whispered in her ear, *' It is the king ! My brother has succeeded. ' ' CHAPTER IV HOW THE DESIGNS OF IVRIOTHESLEY AND GARDINER IVERE FOILED BY THE QUEEN'S IVIT Presently afterwards, a double door communicating with the gallery was thrown open by two henchmen, giving ad- mittance to a gentleman usher, wand in hand, and glitter- ing in cloth of gold and tissue, who announced the king's approach : and in another minute Henry appeared, moving 24 . THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER IPrologm very slowly and with great difficulty, supported between Sir Thomas Seymour, on whose shoulders he leaned, and a man of large frame, and such apparent strength, that he seemed perfectly able to lift the unwieldly monarch from the ground should he chance to stumble. Sir John Gage — for he was the stalwart personage on the king's right — ^had a soldier-like air and deportment, and that he had seen service was evident from the scars on his cheek and brow. His features were handsome, but of an iron cast, and singularly stern in expression. His beard was coal-black, and cut like a spade. He was attired in a doublet of tawny- colored satin, a furred velvet cassock of the same hue, and orange-tawny hose. He was armed with rapier and dagger, and below the left knee wore the Garter. Appointed master of the wards and Constable of the Tower in 1540, soon after the fall of Cromwell, Sir John Gage was likewise made, at a later date, comptroller of the household, and filled these im- portant offices to the king's entire satisfaction. His rough, blunt manner, and fearlessness of speech, contrasting forcibly with the servility and obsequiousness of his other courtiers, pleased Henry, who would brook some difference of opinion from his own, provided he was firmly convinced, as in this instance, of the speaker's honesty. The king paused for a moment at the doorway to recover his strength, aud during this interval his looks were anxiously scrutinized by Lady Herbert ; but nothing favorable could be read in his bloated and cadaverous countenance. He was enveloped in a loose gown of crimson velvet, embroidered with gold, and lined and bordered with minever, and made of such length and amplitude that it concealed his swollen person. If Lady Herbert failed to discover anything but what was formidable in Henry's inscrutable countenance, she gathered hope from her brother's significant glance, and whispered in the queen's ear as she feigned to raise her, "Be of good cheer, madam. All goes well.^' Chap. /K] IVRIOTHESLEY AND GARDINER FOILED 25 By the help of his supporters, Henry once more put him- self in motion, and advanced slowly towards the couch on which Catherine was laid, surrounded by her women, and apparently almost in a state of insensibility. He was followed by Doctor Butts. The king had not gone far ere he again halted from weakness and want of breath, and, on recovering, he ordered Butts to see to the queen, and send away her noisy and wailing women. On approaching Catherine, the physician instantly compre- hended the trick put upon the king, but so far from betray- ing it, he lent his best aid to carry out the stratagem. Caus- ing her to breathe at a phial, he fixed his eyes meaningly upon her as she revived, as if counselling her how to act. "There, you are better now, gracious madam," he said. *'You waste your skill upon me, good Doctor Butts," Catherine replied, in a faint voice. ** I am sinking fast. Nothing but the king's forgiveness can revive me, and that I shall never obtain. One kindly word from him would soothe my agony and reconcile me to my fate. But since I may not see him, tell him, good sir, that I died blessing him ; that I have never knowingly disobeyed him ; and that to feel I have offended him, albeit unwittingly, has broken my heart. ' ' ** Madam, your words have already reached the king's ear," replied Butts, "and I doubt not will be favorably received." "Ay, Kate," cried Henry, " I come to bid thee live." "Your Majesty here !" exclaimed the queen, slightly rais- ing herself. "Then indeed I shall die content." " Talk not of dying, Kate," rejoined he. " Our physician shall bring thee round." "A few words from your lips, my liege, will accomplish more than all my art can effect, * ' said Butts. "Raise me, I pray you," said Catherine to the physician and Lady Herbert, "and let me throw myself at the king's feet to implore his pardon." 26 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER IProhgue " Nay, by Our Lady, there is no need of it, Kate," cried the king, with some show of kindness. ** Set me a chair beside the queen," he added, **and bring me to it. Soh! Kate," he continued, as his commands were obeyed, '* ye see your error, and repent it? — ha !" " Most truly, my gracious lord and husband," she replied. •'* Yet while acknowledging my fault, and humbly entreating forgiveness for it, I must needs say that I have erred from in- advertence, not design. 'Twas but a seeming contradiction of your Majesty that I ventured on. I argued but to draw you forth, as well to benefit myself by your able and unanswer- able expositions, as to make you forget for awhile the pain of your ailment. This I did at the instigation of Doctor Butts, who will bear me out in what I say." ''That will I," cried the physician. **I counselled her Highness to argue with your Majesty — yea, and to contradict you — in the hope of diverting your thoughts from yourself, and giving you a brief respite from suffering. ' ' **Then thou art the true culprit. Butts," cried the king. ** By the rood ! but that I need thee, thou shouldst pay the penalty of thy folly. Thus much thou art freely forgiven, Kate j but other matter yet remains to be explained. Art thou a sectary and sacramentarian ? Hast thou received let- ters and prohibited books from Anne Askew ? * * "Whence comes this accusation, sire?" rejoined Cathe- rine. " From my mortal enemies the Lord Chancellor and the Bishop of Winchester. Let them prove the charge against me, and I will submit without a murmur to any punishment your Majesty may choose to inflict. But I defy their malice." "Enough!" exclaimed Henry ; "thou hast removed all my doubts, and we are perfect friends again. Content thee, Kate — content thee ! Thou shalt have ample vengeance on thine enemies. I swear it — on my bead !" "Nay, I entreat your Majesty be not angry with them," Chap, ly] IVRIOTHESLEY AND GARDINER FOILED 27 said the queen. '* I am so happy in the restoration to your love, that I cannot harbor a vindictive thought. Pardon them, I pray of you. ' ' *'They deserve not your generosity, Kate,'* rejoined Henry. *'But thou art not forgiven for thy share in this matter. Butts,** he continued. ** Look you bring the queen round quickly — ^look that she suffer not from this mischance — ^look to it well, I say. ' ' '* I have no fear now, my liege," replied Butts. '* Your Majesty has proved the better physician of the two. Under the treatment you have adopted, I will answer for the queen's perfect recovery." "That is well," Henry rejoined. **Ha! what noise is that in the gallery ? Who dares come hither ? ' ' ** Your Majesty forgets," remarked Sir John Gage. "Right, right, I had forgotten. *Tis Wriothesley and Gardiner. They shall see how we will welcome them. Ad- mit the Lord Chancellor and the Bishop of Winchester, and those with them,*' he roared. As the order was given, the folding-doors were again thrown open, and the two personages mentioned by the king, entered, followed by a guard of halberdiers. Wriothesley held the warrant in his hand. On beholding the king, they both stopped in much confusion, perceiving at once that the tables were turned upon them. "How now?" exclaimed the king, derisively. "Why do you hesitate ? About your business quickly. ' * " We would fain know your Majesty's pleasure ere proceed- ing further,'* said Wriothesley. " My pleasure !** vociferated Henry. " False traitors and evil counsellors that ye are, my pleasure would be to clap ye both in the Tower, and but for her Majesty's intercession ye should be sent thither under the conduct of the very guard ye have brought with you. Your machinations are discovered and defeated." 28 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOfVER [Prologm '* Beseech your Majesty to grant us a hearing ? ' ' said Gard- iner. "No, I will not hear you," rejoined the king, fiercely. ** Deliver up that warrant which was obtained on your false representation. ' ' '*I deny that it was obtained by any such means, my liege," replied Wriothesley. ** Nevertheless, as is my duty, I obey your behests. * ' And he delivered the warrant to Sir John Gage, by whom it was instantly torn in pieces. " Begone !" exclaimed Henry, " or I will not answer how far my provocation may carry me. Begone ! and take with you the conviction that your scheme has failed — ^and that all such schemes are certain of failure. ' ' And seeing that it was in vain to urge a word in their de- fence, the baffled enemies of the queen retired. * * Are ye content, Kate ? ' ' Henry inquired, as soon as they were gone. And receiving a grateful response, he added, *' Fear not henceforward to dispute with us on points of doc- trine. We shall be ever ready for such arguments, and you have our physician's word, as you wot, that they do us good." " Pray Heaven your highness may not suffer from the effort you have made in coming to me ! ' ' said Catherine. ** Nay, by my life, I am the better for it," Henry rejoined. * * But I must quit you now, sweetheart. I have another matter to decide on — no less than the committal of his Grace of Norfolk and his son, the Earl of Surrey, to the Tower. ' ' ** More work for me for your Majesty," observed Sir John Gage, bluntly. '* Yet I would this might be spared me." **How so. Sir John?" cried the king. *'What liking have ye for these traitors ? ' ' * ' I have yet to learn that they are traitors, my liege, ' ' re- plied Gage, boldly. *'As the Duke of Norfolk is first among your peers, so he has ever been foremost in zeal and devotion Chap, /r] IVRIOTHESLEY AND GARDINER FOILED 29 to your Majesty. Methinks his long services ought to weigh somewhat with you." *' His Grace's services have been well requited, Sir John/' interposed Seymour. " Know you not the grave charges against him ? * ' *' I know well that you and your brother, the Earl of Hert- ford, are his enemies, and would rejoice in his downfall," answered the Constable of the Tower. ''Peace, both of ye!" cried the king. "The charge against the Duke of Norfolk, which hath been proven to our satisfaction, is, that contrary to his oath and allegiance to us, he hath many times — mark that. Sir John — many times be- trayed the secrets of our privy councils — the privy council, Sir John — to our great peril, and to the infinite detriment of our affairs. ' ' *' His Grace may have spoken unguardedly — so might any of us " *' Not you. Sir John," interrupted the king, dryly. " You never speak unguardedly, I'll answer for it." '*I never speak untruthfully, my liege," rejoined Gage. *'And I dare affirm that although the Duke of Norfolk may have babbled of matters about which he had better have held his tongue, he has never been wanting in fidelity and loyalty to your Highness. ' ' "You know only part of the duke's heinous offences, or you would not say so much in his defence. Sir John," said Seymour. " Learn, then, that to the peril, slander, and dis- herison of his Majesty and his noble son. Prince Edward, heir-apparent to the throne, his aspiring Grace of Norfolk hath unjustly, and without authority, borne in the first quarter of his arms the arms of England, which are the proper arms of Prince Edward." * ' Is this some new discovery you have made, Sir Thomas ? ' * inquired Gage. ** Methinks you must have seen the duke's blazon ever since you bore arms yourself." 30 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER iPrologm '* The matter is not new, we grant," said the king, sternly ; ** but we view it now with different eyes. We discern peril in this audacious act. We see in it pretended claims to be brought forth hereafter — disturbance to the realm — interrup- tion to our son's inheritance to the crown. We see this plainly, and will crush it." '* With all submission, I do not think that the duke hath had any such daring presumption," observed the Constable of the Tower. " But touching the Earl of Surrey : in what hath that peerless nobleman offended ? ' ' " Peerless you well may call him," cried Henry; ** for in his own conceit he hath never a peer. Why could not his ambition content itself with shining in Phoebus' court ? Why should it soar so high in ours ? His treason is the same as his father's. He hath quartered in his shield the arms of Edward the Confessor, denoting pretensions to the crown. ' * ** What more?" demanded the Constable of the Tower. *'What more!" repeated Henry. *'Is not that enough? But since you lack further information. Sir Thomas Sey- mour shall give it you. Tell him what thou knowest. Sir Thomas." " It were too long to tell all, my liege," replied Seymour. " In regard to his arms, instead of a duke's coronet, Surrey has put a cap of maintenance purple, with powdered fur, and a close crown, and underneath the arms the king's cipher." "You hear?" cried Henry, sternly. "Let me propound these questions to Sir John Gage," pursued Seymour. ** If a man shall compass to rule the realm, and go about to rule the king, what imports it ? Again, if the same man shall declare that if the king dies, none shall have the rule of the prince save his father and himself — ^what imports it ? Again, if that man shall say, ' If the king were dead I would shortly shut up the prince' — what imports it?" "Treason — arrant treason," replied Gage. ** Then, all this and more of the same treasonous stuff hath Chap, ly] IVRIOTHESLEY AND GARDINER FOILED 31 Surrey uttered/' rejoined Seymour. "He hath sought to bring about a union *twixt myself and his sister, the Duchess of Richmond, in order that he might have more influence with the King's Highness." **Is this indeed true, Sir Thomas?*' inquired Catherine, quickly. "Ay, madam,*' he replied. "But failing in his scheme, the earl thenceforth became my mortal enemy, reviling me and my brother Hertford, and vowing that, if Heaven should call away the king, he would avenge himself upon us and all the upstart nobility, as he insolently styles us. He hates us — ^bitterly hates us for our love to the king, and for the favor shown us by his Highness. He says his Majesty has had ill counsels.** " How say you now, Sir John ? ** cried Henry. "Are you not satisfied that the Duke of Norfolk and his son are a couple of traitors ? ' * "Humph I not altogether,'* rejoined the constable. "You are hard to be convinced. Sir John," said Seymour. " But think not, though I have spoken of myself and my brother Hertford, that I have any personal enmity to Surrey, much less any fear of him. But he is a traitor and dissem- bler. One of his servants hath been in Italy with Cardinal Pole, and hath been received again on his return. Moreover, he hath Italian spies in his employ, and is in secret corre- spondence with Rome.** "Are ye still incredulous? ** demanded Henry. "I know not what to say," replied the constable, in a troubled tone. "But I fear me much that both are con- demned." " Come with us to the Council, and you shall hear more," said Henry. "You seem to doubt our justice, but you shall find that we never punish without good cause, nor ever allow the greatness of the offender to shield him from just punish- ment. Fare ye well, sweetheart, for a while. Get well 32 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOPVER [Prologs quickly, an you love us ! Give me your arm, Butts ; and yours. Sir John." Upon this he was raised with some difficulty from his seat, and, supported between the two persons he had named, he moved slowly out of the room. When his back was turned, Seymour drew somewhat nearer to the queen. *' You have saved my life, Sir Thomas," said Catherine, in a low tone, and with a look of deep gratitude. **How can I pay the debt I owe you ? ' ' ** There is small merit in the service, madam," he replied, in a low, impassioned voice. * ' I have saved you because your life is dearer to me than my own. I may claim a reward — but not now ! ' * And with a profound obeisance he retired, casting a part- ing look at the queen as he passed through the door. CHAPTER V OF THE INTERyiEfV BETIVEEN THE EARL OF SURREY AND SIR THOMAS SEYMOUR IN THE BOPVYER TOWER A bitter rivalry had long existed between the newly en- nobled house of Seymour and the ancient and illustrious house of Howard. Not less distinguished for exalted rank than re- nowned as a military commander, the high-bom Duke of Norfolk looked down with scorn upon the new nobility, hold- ing them unworthy to be ranked with him ; and his senti- ments were shared by his chivalrous and accomplished son. Earl Surrey, " of the deathless lay," who, proud as his father, was of a yet more fiery temper. But the duke soon found that the elder Seymour was not an enemy to be despised. Chap. K] SEYMOUR'S OFFER TO SURREY 33 The Earl of Hertford's influence with the king increased, while that of Norfolk declined. When Catherine Howard perished on the block, the duke, her uncle, who had brought about the ill-starred match, fell into disfavor with the vin- dictive monarch, and never regained the place he had hith- erto held in Henry's regard. There was another ground of quarrel between the rival houses. The Howards continued firm in their adherence to the Church of Rome ; and the Duke of Norfolk, who was looked upon as the head of the Catholics, and who hated the Reformers, made himself obnoxious by his rigor towards the sacramentarians. Hertford, on the other hand, as much as he dared, upheld the new doctrines and supported the Prot- estant party. On religious questions, the king gave pre- dominance to neither side ; but setting one against the other, was equally severe with both. This state of things endured for a time without any decisive blow being struck by his enemy against the powerful duke. But when Henry's increasing infirmities made it evident that his dissolution could not be far off, the immediate and total overthrow of the house of Howard was resolved upon by Hertford. As elder uncle of the young Prince Edward, then only in his tenth year, Hertford had secretly determined to become Lord Protector, and thereby enjoy the supreme power of the realm. He could rely upon the chief part of the council for support, but he well knew he should encounter formidable opposition from the Duke of Norfolk. Moreover, both the duke and his son had rashly menaced Hertford and his associates, declaring that the time for vengeance was at hand, and that they should shortly smart for their audacity. Henry, whose affections had been artfully estranged from the Howards, lent a ready ear to the charges brought against Norfolk and Surrey by the agency of Hertford, and without weighing the duke's long- tried zeal and fidelity, and the 3 34 7"//E COmTABLE OF THE TOJVER [Prologua many important services he had rendered him, signed the articles of accusation brought against father and son, causing them both to be suddenly arrested, and lodged in separate prisons in the Tower. Arraigned in Guildhall before Lord Chancellor Wriothesley^ the Lord Mayor, and other commissioners, the Earl of Surrey vehemently and eloquently defended himself, denying the charges brought against him, and offering to fight his principal accuser, Sir Richard Southwell, in his shirt. But his defence availed him nothing. As had been foreseen, he was found guilty of high treason, condemned to death, and taken back to the Tower to await his execution. But though the gallant Surrey was thus sentenced, more difficulty was experienced in bringing condemnatory matter against his father. Immured within a cell in the Beauchamp Tower, treated with great rigor, subjected to frequent private examinations, kept in entire ignorance of the names of his accusers, and even of the accusations brought against him, denied all access to his son, or communication with him, the duke at last succumbed, and a confession of guilt, under promise of pardon, was extorted from him. But this promise, solemnly given by Hertford, was not intended to be kept. On the contrary, the confession was to be made the means of Norfolk's destruction. Moved, perhaps, by some feelings of compassion for his old favorite, and still more by the duke's humble submission, Henry hesitated to sign his death-warrant. But with the rapacity which characterized him to the last, he had not neglected to seize upon the duke's houses, and con- fiscate his treasures. Norfolk, however, contrived to balk his enemies of the spoil they anticipated. Well aware that Hert- ford and his associates counted upon dividing his large pos- sessions among them, he petitioned the king that the estates might be settled upon Prince Edward; and the request ap- peared so reasonable to Henry, that it was immediately granted. But the duke's life was still in jeopardy, dependent Chap. K] SEYMOUR'S OFFER TO SURREY 35 upon the will of a fickle tyrant, who might at any moment surrender him to the enemies who panted for his blood. Leaving him, however, in this state of dreadful incertitude, we must go back to the Earl of Surrey, whose fate had been sealed, and visit him in his cell within the Bowyer Tower on the night previous to his execution. In a narrow, octangular stone chamber, arched and groined, and having walls of immense thickness, pierced with deep embrasures, which were strongly grated on the outside, sat the unfortunate young nobleman. An iron cresset lamp dimly illumined the cell. A book lay upon the rude oak table, beside which the earl was seated \ but though his eyes seemed to dwell upon the leaves, his thoughts were far away. Petrarch for the first time failed to fix his attention. The young earl was prepared to meet his fate. But with such brilliant pros- pects before him, with such keen relish of life and all its enjoyments as he possessed, with so much unaccomplished, with so much to bind him to the world, it was hard to perish in the flower of his age. Surrey was then but seven-and-twenty, and though he might, if spared, have reached a higher point than he ever attained, he was distinguished above all his compeers for gal- lantry, courtliness, prowess, learning, and wit. After greatly distinguishing himself in the wars with France in 1544, he was made lieutenant-general in the expedition against Boulogne. A preux chevalier of the school of Bayard, he was no unworthy disciple of Petrarch. His graces of person were equal to his graces of mind, and a statelier figure and a nobler or more intellectual countenance than Surrey's could nowhere be found. On his arraignment at Guildhall he had appeared in a doublet of black tylsent, welted with cloth of silver, black silk hose, and a black velvet cassock, lined with crimson silk and furred with sable ; and he wore the same garments now — with the exception of the cassock, which he had flung upon a stool — and meant to die in them. 36 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Prologui Closing Petrarch, Surrey took up a copy of Virgil, which was lying on the table, and, being provided with writing materials, he set resolutely to work to translate a passage from the ^neid. He was occupied in this task when the with- drawing of a bolt on the outside of the door, roused him, the key grated in the lock, and the next moment a gaoler, carry- ing a light, entered the cell. *' Bring you the ghostly father I have asked for to hear my shrift, Master Tombs ? ' ' the earl demanded. **The priest is not yet arrived, my lord," Tombs replied. *'The Constable of the Tower is without, and another with him." ''What other?" cried Surrey, springing to his feet. ** Is it the duke, my father? Speak, man ! — quick !" "No, my lord. I know not who it maybe," answered Tombs; '*but assuredly it is not his Grace of Norfolk, for I left him not an hour ago in the Beauchamp Tower. Per- chance it is one of the council." As the words were uttered. Sir John Gage passed through the doorway, and in so doing had to stoop his lofty head. He was followed by another tall personage, wrapped in a long black mantle, and so muffled up that his features could not be distinguished. Surrey, however, heeded not the latter, but, advancing towards the constable, and warmly grasping his hand, exclaimed, ' ' This is well and kindly done. Sir John. You have come to bid me farewell." '* Would I were the bearer of the king's grace to you, my lord !" rejoined Gage, in tones of deep emotion. ** But it is not so. I am indeed come to bid you a last adieu." ** Then, as my friend, worthy Sir John — and such you have ever shown yourself, and never more than now — you will be glad to find that I am indifferent to my fate — nay, not altogether indifferent, but resigned. I have philosophy enough to support me in this hour of trial, and am content to die." Chap. K] SEYMOUR'S OFFER TO SURREY 37 ** You amaze me !" exclaimed the constable. ** I did not think you possessed such firmness of soul. ' ' ** Nor I," added the muffled individual. **Who is it speaks?" Surrey demanded. **Methinks I know the voice. I feel as if an enemy stood before me." '* Your instinct has not deceived you, my lord," Sir John Gage observed, in a low tone. The muffled personage signed to Tombs to retire, and as soon as the gaoler was gone and the door closed, he let fall his cloak. '*You here, Sir Thomas Seymour!" the earl exclaimed, in a stem voice. ** Is it not enough that your practices and those of your brother, the Earl of Hertford, have accom- plished my destruction, but you must needs come to triumph over me ? It is well for you that your malice failed not in its object. Had I lived, you and your brother should both have rued the ill counsels ye have given the king. ' ' '*Let not your anger be roused against him, my lord," remarked the constable, **but part, if you can, at peace with all men." *'Fain would I do so, Sir John," cried Surrey. '*But let him not trouble me further. ' ' ** You mistake my errand altogether, my lord," said Sey- mour, haughtily. ' * It is not in my nature to triumph over a fallen foe. All enmity I have ever felt towards you is at an end. But I have something to say which it concerns you to hear. Leave us for a while, I pray you. Sir John." ** Nothing hath interest with me now," said Surrey ; ** yet go, my true friend. But let me see you once again." ** Doubt it not," returned the constable. And he closed the door as he quitted the cell. ''My lord," said Seymour, ''I have been your foe, but, as I just now told you, my enmity is past. Nay, if you will let me, I will prove your friend. ' ' **I desire to die in charity with all men/' replied Surrey, 38 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER ^Prologue gravely, ** and I freely forgive you the wrongs you have done me. But for friendship between us — never ! The word ac- cords ill with the names of Howard and Seymour. ' * ''Yet it might perhaps be better for both if it existed," rejoined Sir Thomas. ' ' Hear me, my lord. Will you not account me a friend if I rescue you from the doom that awaits you to-morrow ? ' ' * ' I would not accept life at your hands, or at those of any Seymour, ' ' returned Surrey, proudly. * * Nor would I ask grace from the king himself — far less seek the intercession of one of his minions. Be assured I will make no submission to him." *' The duke, your father, has not been so unyielding," said Seymour. ** He hath humbly sued for mercy from the king, and, as a means of moving his Highness' s compassion, hath settled his estates upon Prince Edward. ' ' ''Whereby he has robbed you and your insatiate brother of your anticipated prey," rejoined the earl. "Therein he did wisely. Would he had not abased himself by unworthy submission !" "Nay, my lord, his submission was wise, for though a pardon hath not followed it — as no doubt his Grace expected — it will gain him time ; and time, just now, is safety. The king cannot last long. A week. Doctor Butts declares, may see him out. Ten days is the utmost he can live." ' ' You forget the statute that prohibits the foretelling of the king's death, on penalty of death," replied Surrey. " But no matter. I am not likely to betray you. His Majesty will outlast me, at any rate," he added, with a bitter smile. "If you will be ruled by me, my lord, you shall survive him many a year. I cannot offer you a pardon, but I can do that which will serve you as well. I can stay your execution. I can put it off from day to day, till what we look for shall happen — and so you shall escape the block." Chap. K] SEYMOUR'S OFFER TO SURREY 39 **But wherefore do you seek to save me?" demanded Surrey. ** Till this moment I have deemed that my destruc- tion was your aim. Why, at the last moment, do you thus hinder the fulfilment of your own work ? ' ' *' Listen to me, my lord, and you shall learn. Dissimula- tion would be idle now, and I shall not attempt it. My brother Hertford compassed your father's destruction and your own, because he saw in you opponents dangerous to his schemes of future greatness. He will be guardian to Prince Edward, and would be Lord Protector of the realm — king in all but name. ' ' ** I know how highly his ambition soars," exclaimed Surrey. ** Heaven shield Prince Edward, and guard him from his guardians ! In losing me and my father, he will lose those who might best have counselled him and served him. But proceed. Sir Thomas. You have spoken plainly enough of Lord Hertford's designs. What are your own? What post do you count on filling ? ' ' * * I have as much ambition as my brother, ' ' replied Sey- mour ; * ' and like him am uncle to the king that shall be soon. You will easily perceive my drift, my lord, when I tell you that my brother hates me, fears me, and would keep me down. He is to be everything — I nothing." * ' Ha ! is it so ? " cried Surrey. '* I say he fears me — and with reason," pursued Seymour. " Let him take heed that I rob him not of the dignity he covets. I am Prince Edward's favorite uncle — he loves me better than Hertford, and will be right glad of the exchange of governors." * 'Again I pray Heaven to guard the young prince from his guardians!" murmured Surrey. ** Hertford hath the majority of the council with him : Cranmer, St. John, Russell, Lisle, Tunstal, Sir Anthony Brown, Sir Anthony Denny — ^all save Wriothesley and my brother. Sir William Herbert. They are with me. Could I 40 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOWER [Prologiu but reckon on his Grace of Norfolk and on you, I should con- sider the success of my plan as certain. ' ' '* You have made no overtures of this nature to my father, sir ? * ' cried Surrey, eagerly. "Not as yet," Seymour replied. "But I cannot doubt his Grace's concurrence. " You do not know my father, or you would not dare assert 80 much," rejoined Surrey. ** He would reject your propo- sal as scornfully as I reject it. He would not buy his life on terms so infamous." " I see no degradation in the terms," said Seymour. ** I offer you life, all the honors you have forfeited, and all the estates you have lost, and ask only in return your staunch support ; little enough, methinks ! Have you no love left for life, Lord Surrey? Have your pulses ceased to beat with their former ardor ? Are your ears deaf to the trumpet-blast of fame ? Have your own chivalrous deeds faded from your memory ? Have you forgotten the day when, at the jousts given by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, at Florence, you sus- tained the beauty of the lady of your love, the fair Geraldine, against all comers, and remained victorious ? Have you had your fill of knightly worship and military renown ? You are a widower, and may, without presumption, aspire to the hand of the Princess Mary. Ha J — have I touched you, my lord ? But I will go on. Have courtly revels lost attraction for him who was once their chief ornament? Have the Muses ceased to charm you? I should judge not, when I see how you have been recently employed. * ' '* Oh ! no, no !" exclaimed Surrey. ** Life has lost none of its attractions in my sight. Glory and fame are dear as ever to me. ' * " Then live ! live! and win yet more fame and glory," cried Seymour, with something of triumph, thinking he had vanquished the earl's scruples. "Well as I love life," said Surrey, " I love my reputation Chap. F] SEYMOUR'S OFFER TO SURREY 41 better, and will not tarnish it by any unworthy act. I re- ject your offer, Sir Thomas. ' ' "Your blood be upon your own head, then," rejoined Seymour, sternly. " Your scruples are fantastical and absurd. But we could look only for frenzy in a poet," he added, with scorn. *' You taunt an unarmed man, Sir Thomas," cried Surrey, with flashing eyes, ** and 'tis a craven act. Had I been free, you dared not for your life have said so much ! You have come at this final hour, like an evil spirit, to tempt me to wrong and dishonor — ^but you have failed. Now mark my words, for I feel they are prophetic. You and your brother have brought me to the scaffold — ^but my blood shall fly to Heaven for vengeance. Your ambitious schemes shall come to naught. You shall have power only to lose it. The seeds of dissension and strife are already sown between you, and shall quickly grow and ripen. You shall plot against one another, and destroy one another. His hand shall sign your death-warrant, but your dying curse shall alight upon his head, and the fratricide shall perish on the same scaffold as yourself. Think on my words, Sir Thomas, when, like me, you are a prisoner in the Tower. ' ' **Tush ! I have no fear," replied Seymour, scarcely able to repress his uneasiness. ** 'Tis a pity you will not live to witness my nephew's coronation. You might have written an ode thereon. ' * '*I will write your epitaph instead, sir," rejoined Surrey, "and leave it with the headsman." At this moment the door of the cell was opened, and Sir John Gage stepped in. "The ghostly father is without, my lord," he said, ad- dressing Surrey. "But you look ruffled. Nothing, I trust, has occurred to chafe you ? ' ' "Ask Sir Thomas Seymour," the earl rejoined. " He will tell you as much or as little as he thinks fit. For myself, I 42 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologue have done with all worldly matters, and have time only to think of my sins, and ask forgiveness for them. ' ' After a brief pause, he added in a voice of deep emotion, ** One commission I will charge you with, good Sir John, and I well know you will not neglect it. Since my imprison- ment in the Tower, I have not seen my little boy, and I shall never see him more. Kiss him for me, and give him my last blessing. Tell him I died without reproach and with unspot- ted honor. Poor orphan child ! Early bereft of a mother's tenderness, thou wilt be robbed of a father's love by a yet more cruel stroke of fate ! But something tells me thou shalt regain the title and dignity I have lost. Fare you well for ever, good Sir John!" he continued, embracing him. **I have nothing but those poor books to give you. If you care to have them, I pray you keep them in remembrance of your friend, Henry Howard. ' ' *' I shall dearly prize the gift, my lord," replied Sir John, much moved, and fearful of unmanning himself — ** fare- well !" Meanwhile, Seymour had resumed his cloak. Not a word more passed between him and Surrey, but they eyed each other sternly as Sir Thomas quitted the cell. Soon afterwards, the priest was ushered in by Tombs, and remained for more than an hour with the earl. On the next day, the chivalrous Surrey was decapitated on Tower Hill. His constancy remained unshaken to the last. Greeting the executioner with a smile, he laid his graceful head upon the block amid the tears and lamentations of the beholders. Chap. K/] THE KING'S LEAyE-TAKlhIG 45 CHAPTER VI HOIV THE KING, FINDING HIS END APPROACH, TOOK A LAST LEAVE OF THE PRINCESSES MARY AND ELIZA- BETH, AND OF THE PRINCE EDIVARD ; AND OF THE COUNSEL HE GAVE THEM Surrey was gone, but his destroyer yet lingered on earth. By this time, however, the king's malady had made such progress, that Doctor Butts confidentially informed the Earl of Hertford and some others of the council, that his Majesty had little more than a week to live ; but that possibly his ex- istence might be terminated at an earlier period. Henry could not be unconscious of his danger, though he spoke not of it, and no one — not even his physician, or his confessor, the Bishop of Rochester — dared to warn him of his approach- ing dissolution. He heard mass daily in his chamber, and received other rites, which led to the supposition that he was about to be reconciled, at the last moment, to the see of Rome. This opinion was strengthened when Gardiner and Wriothesley were again sent for, and restored to favor. Thus things continued, until Sir John Gage, seeing that all shrank from the perilous task of acquainting the dying monarch with his true condition, boldly inquired if he had no desire to see Prince Edward and the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth. ' * To take leave of them ! Is that what you mean ? — ha ! ' ' roared Henry, who had just recovered from a paroxysm of anguish. '* Speak out, man !" *' It is," replied the constable, firmly. ** Forgive me, sire, if I offend. I but discharge my duty. ' ' There was a terrible silence, during which no one could say what might ensue. No explosion of rage, however, fol- 44 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Prologue lowed. On the contrary, the king said, in a milder tone, " Thou art a faithful servant, Sir John, and I honor thy cour- age. The interview must not be delayed. Let my children be brought to me to-morrow. ' ' **I rejoice to hear your Majesty say so," replied Gage. ** I will myself set out at once for Hampton Court, and bring his Highness Prince Edward and the Princess Elizabeth to the palace. ' ' '^1 will go with you, Sir John,'* said Sir Thomas Sey- mour. **And with your Majesty's permission, I will repair to Greenwich, and advise the Princess Mary of your commands," said Sir George Blagge. '*I am assured she will hasten to obey them." **I am much beholden to you, sirs," replied the king. **If Heaven shall grant me so much life, I look to see all three to-morrow. Let the whole of the council attend at the same time. Give me a draught of wine — ^and quickly, knave," he added, to a cup-bearer near him. **I feel ex- ceeding faint." ** Saints grant that to-morrow be not too late ! — his looks alarm me," observed the Constable of the Tower, as he withdrew with Seymour and Blagge. Contrary to expectation, Henry was somewhat better next day. He had slept a little during the night, having obtained some slight respite from the excruciating tortures he endured. Resolved to maintain his regal state and dignity to the last, he gave orders that as much ceremony should be observed at this his parting interview with his children as if it had been a grand reception. Causing the great cumbrous chair, which he now rarely quitted, to be placed beneath a cloth of estate embroidered with the arms of England, he sat in it propped up with velvet pillows, and wrapped in a long gown of white tylsent, flowered with gold, and lined and bordered with fur, and having wide sleeves. His head was covered with the Chap. K/] THE KING'S LEAVE-TAKING 45 embroidered black silk skull-cap, which he now customarily wore. On the opposite side of the chamber, in a chair of state, but not under a canopy, sat Queen Catherine, sur- rounded by Viscountess Lisle, Lady Tyrwhitt, and other ladies. On the left of the king stood the Earl of Hertford, bearing his wand of office as great chamberlain. The pearled collar of the Garter with the George attached to it encircled his neck, and the gold band of the order was worn below his knee. He was magnificently apparelled in a doublet of white satin, embroidered all over with pearls of damask gold, with sleeves of the same stuff", formed down with threads of Venice silver. Over this he wore a cassock of blue velvet, em- broidered with gold, and furred. Though not so strikingly handsome as his younger brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, the Earl of Hertford was yet a very noble-looking personage, with a fine cast of countenance, a tall, stately figure, and a com- manding deportment. His eyes were dark and penetrating, but a slight contraction of the brows gave a somewhat sinister eff'ect to his glances. His forehead was high and bald, his features regular and well shaped, the distinguishing expression of the face being gravity, tinctured by melancholy. He had none of the boldness of look and manner that characterized his brother, but more caution, and perhaps subtlety. His complexion was pale, and his beard somewhat thin. Hert- ford's career had been one of uninterrupted success. By the king's favor he had risen to greatness. On Henry's marriage with his sister, Jane Seymour, he was created Viscount Beau- champ. Sent ambassador to Paris in 1540, in the following year he received the Order of the Garter. In 1542 he was appointed Lord Great Chamberlain of England for life. Two years later, in the war with Scotland, he accompanied the Duke of Norfolk to that kingdom with the title of Lieutenant- General of the North ; and when Henry proceeded to the siege of Boulogne, he was named one of the four councillors 46 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologue intrusted with the care of the realm. Only a few months ago he had been made Earl of Hertford. But high as he had risen, the aspiring noble looked to rise much higher. His dreams of ambition seemed about to be fulfilled. Supreme power was almost within his grasp. His enemies were re- moved or crushed. Surrey had lost his head — a like doom awaited Norfolk. Soon — very soon must come the day when Henry would be called to his account. Then the boy Edward would mount the throne — ^but he, his uncle, his guardian, would rule in his name. What more the earl dreamed of may appear when we have occasion to sound the inmost recesses of his breast. Another important actor in this scene, and who secretly nourished ambitious designs scarcely less daring than those of Hertford, was John Dudley, Viscount Lisle. Son of that Edmond Dudley, whose death upon the scaffold inaugurated Henry's accession to the throne, this scheming and far-seeing noble had early distinguished himself by his bravery in the wars with France, and obtained the honor of knighthood, besides regaining his forfeit rights. Attached both to Wolsey and Cromwell, he rose by their aid, and being appointed governor of Boulogne, which he successfully defended against all assaults, he was elevated to the dignity of Viscount Lisle, and made High Admiral of England. He was, moreover, enriched by the lavish sovereign, whose favor he had won, by large possessions wrested from the Church, which were afterwards thought to bring down a curse upon him. Bold and ambitious. Lord Lisle was a profound dissembler, and though even at this moment he meditated plans which were not developed until long afterwards, he allowed no hint of his designs to escape him, but was content for the time to play a subordinate part to Hertford, whom he hoped in the end to eclipse. As a means towards that object he looked to Sir Thomas Seymour. Lord Lisle was now in his forty-fifth year. His large and strongly -marked features evinced sagac- Chap. K;] the KING'S LEA^E-TAKING 47 ity, shrewdness, and determination. His beard was scanty, and his short moustache disclosed a singularly firm-set mouth. His figure was tall, and his deportment martial, but his manner had nothing of the roughness of the camp about it. He could play equally well the part of soldier or of courtier. Compared with Hertford he was soberly attired, his habiliments being of dark velvet, destitute of embroidery, though his cassock was richly furred. But he wore the George and collar, and the lesser ensign of the Garter. Near to Lord Lisle stood a venerable nobleman with a long silvery beard descending almost to his girdle. This was Lord Russell, privy seal. The old peer bore his years well ; having a hale look, and a stout frame. Like Hertford and Lisle, he was a knight companion of the Garter, and decora- ted with the insignia of the order. Besides those already mentioned, there were several others grouped around the king, whom it will not be needful individually to describe. Amongst them was the Lord St. John, great master ; Sir An- thony Brown, master of the horse ; Sir William Paget, chief secretary ; Sir Anthony Wingfield, vice-chamberlain ; Sir Thomas Cheney, treasurer ; Sir Anthony Denny and Sir Wil- liam Herbert, chief gentlemen of the privy chamber; Sir Richard Rich, Sir John Baker, Sir Ralph Sadler, Sir Richard Southwell, and others — all shining in rich habiliments, and making a goodly show. The Lord Chancellor Wriothesley and Gardiner were like- wise there, but held themselves apart from Hertford. But Gardiner was not the only ecclesiastic present. Others there were, besides — namely, Tunstall, Bishop of Durham, and the king's confessor, the Bishop of Rochester. But there was yet another greater than them all — Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. Clothed in his full ecclesiastical vestments of stole, chi- mere, and rochet, the primate stood on the right of the king. His manner was grave and dignified ; his looks stem 48 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iPrologw and full of thought, and a long grey beard added to the rev- erend expression of his countenance. Cranmer's features were hard, but yet not wholly destitute of kindliness. He seemed profoundly impressed — ^almost weighed down by the gravity of the occasion. Indeed, notwithstanding the splendor that marked it, the assemblage had a mournful and solemn character. Not a word was spoken save in a whisper ; each countenance wore a sad and sombre expression. All felt, though none cared to ac- knowledge it, that, in all likelihood, it was the last occasion on which they should be thus brought together during the king's life. Few among them would have retarded Henry's departure to his last home, had it been in their power to do so ; some, indeed, would willingly have accelerated the event ; and yet, to judge by their faces, all were full of sorrow, as if about to sustain a deep and irreparable loss. For a few minutes it seemed as if the king himself were overpowered by this general semblance of grief At length he roused himself, glanced with moistened eyes around the assemblage, and pressed Cranmer's hand kindly. He next called for a cup of wine, and, fortified by the draught, seemed to shake off his weakness. *' Let the princesses come in," he said to Hertford ; "I am ready to receive them." Making a profound obeisance, the earl moved towards the bottom of the chamber, and the arras screening a door in this quarter being drawn aside at his approach by the gentlemen ushers in attendance, he disappeared, but returned the next moment leading the Princess Mary by the hand, while the Princess Elizabeth was conducted into the chamber in like manner by Sir Thomas Seymour. The two princesses were followed at a respectful distance by the Countess of Hertford and Lady Herbert. Mary looked very grave, and seemed to have some difficulty in controlling her emotion, as her quivering lip betokened. Elizabeth had evidently been weeping, for tears were still in Chap, yn THE KING'S LEAyE-TAKIhlG 49 her eyes. Both were richly attired ; but the elder sister had more of ornament about her dress — ^perhaps, because she needed it most — than the other. Mary's head -gear, of the angular form then in vogue, was of rich goldsmith's work, bordered with jewels, and was completed by a long couvre- chef of satin worked with gold. Her stomacher was fastened by two brooches of agates set with emeralds, from the lower of which a large orient pearl depended. Her slender waist was encircled by a girdle of goldsmith's work, with roses of rubies, having friar's knots, and hanging down in front. Her dress was of gold bawdkin, and fitting tight to the body, be- trayed her extreme thinness, and gave her a very rigid look. Her dark auburn locks — for we care not to call them red — were gathered becomingly enough beneath her head-gear. Mary had few charms of person. She was thin to meagre- ness, and her features possessed little beauty ; but they were intelligent in expression. To compensate, however, for these defects, she had great dignity of manner, and much grace ; and there were some — and not a few — ^who, dazzled by her high rank, held her very blemishes to be beauties. Mary was more than double the age of her sister, being thirty-two, while Elizabeth was only just thirteen. The younger princess, however, was a very well-grown girl, quite as tall as her sister, and infinitely more attractive in personal appearance. Elizabeth's charms indeed were almost pre- cocious. Few who beheld her would have deemed her so young as she was in reality, but would have given her a year or two in advance. She had a finely-formed figure, already well developed, a complexion of dazzling whiteness, bright golden locks of great abundance, charming features, eyes bhie and tender, and teeth like pearls. Her hands were of re- markable beauty, with taper fingers and rosy nails. Her pro- fuse locks were confined by a band of gold and a net of gold wire, scarcely distinguishable from the bright tresses it re- strained ; a long white satin couvre-chef fell behind her neck, 4 5© THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Prologue and a dress of black taffeta displayed her figure to advan- tage, and at the same time set off the lovely whiteness of her skin. As Mary approached the king, Cranmer slowly advanced to meet her, thus addressing her, in a voice of much solem- nity : '* Right high, right noble, and right excellent princess, the king, your august father, feeling that it may please Almighty God to call him hence suddenly, hath sent for you, and the right noble princess your sister, to give you wholesome counsel, to bestow his blessing on you, and to take, it maybe" — here the archbishop's voice slightly faltered — '* though Heaven grant it maybe otherwise ! — a last leave of you both. Nothing doubting that you will keep his counsels ever in your heart, and that you will have the glorious ex- ample set by his majesty constantly before you, I pray your highnesses to kneel down before your royal father, and in that reverent posture give heed to what he shall say to you. ' ' ''I need no schooling in my duty from you, my Lord of Canterbury," replied Mary, who hated Cranmer. *'Not a word shall fall from my royal father's lips but it will dwell forever in my breast. ' ' Elizabeth attempted to speak, but words failed her, and she burst into tears. Meanwhile, cushions of crimson velvet were placed near the chair occupied by the ailing monarch, and on these both princesses knelt down. Aided by Sir John Gage and Lord Lisle, Henry slightly raised himself, and this office performed, the assistants immediately retired. Extending his arms over his daughters, the king said some- what feebly, but with great earnestness, '^ My blessing on ye both ! and may it rest ever with ye — ever ! Only to the great Ruler of events is known the destiny in store for you. Both of ye may be queens — and should it so chance, ye will learn what cares the crown brings with it. But think only — as I have ever done — of the welfare and glory of your king' Chap. K/] THE KING'S LEAyE-TAKWG 51 dom, and of your own honor, and ye shall reign wisely and well." ** Should it ever be my lot to reign, sire, I will essay to fol- low your glorious example, ' ' said Mary. ' ' I shall never be queen, ' ' sobbed Elizabeth, ' ' and therefore I need make no promise. ' * "How know you that, girl?" cried the king, angrily. *^ You are as likely to be queen as Mary. I want no promises. I have pointed out the way you ought to pursue, and if you be not a degenerate daughter, you will follow it. ' * ''I despair of emulating your greatness, O my father!" cried Elizabeth. "But if it shall please Providence to call upon me to rule, I will endeavor to rule well. ' ' "Enough!" replied Henry, appeased. "And now arise, both of ye, that I may look at you more nearly, for my sight waxes somewhat dim. ' ' Taking his elder daughter's hand as she arose, Henry looked at her fixedly for a few minutes, during which he murmured, "Forgive me, Katherine, my first spouse, if I have ever dealt harshly with this thy daughter ! ' ' adding aloud, after a pause, "It is right you should both know it — and that all should know it — that by my will I have confirmed the succession of both of ye to the crown. Neither of ye may wed, save with the consent and approval of the council — such consent to be given under hand and seal. But on your marriage, each of ye shall have such sums of money as I have appointed, together with such jewels, plate, and house- hold stuffs, as shall seem meet to those intrusted with the per- formance of my testaments. I have left ye both alike — ^alike in yearly income, while ye continue single — ^alike on mar- riage. Now, mark me, Mary," he continued, sternly and authoritatively, "if you perform not the conditions required of you by my will, the crown will devolve on Elizabeth. And if Elizabeth shall neglect them," he added, glancing at his younger child, " the crown will go to our well -beloved niece. 52 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologw Frances Brandon, daughter of our sister Mary and the Duke of Suffolk. Now both of you know our will and pleasure. Kiss me, Mary, and let thy sister come nigh me. ' ' Taking Elizabeth's hand, who stood weeping before him, and earnestly perusing her features, the king seemed struggling with recollections that would force themselves upon him, for he muttered to himself, "Ay, 'tis the very face, the eye, the lip ! — thus looked she when I chided her. In all things she is like her mother, save in the color of her hair. Anne, sweet Anne, how well do I recall thee with all thy winning ways ! This fair child's neck is like to thine ; and yet Would I could bring thee back again !" As these words reached her ear, Elizabeth's tears fell yet more freely, and she trembled as a deep groan burst from the king. But Henry quickly shook off these passing feelings of remorse, and said kindly but firmly, **Weep not, sweet child, thou wilt spoil thy pretty eyes else. Keep thy sorrow till thou hast lost me. Be discreet, girl. Thou art fair, and wilt be fairer. Grow in grace as thou growest in beauty. So shalt thou be truly loved and honored. Beauty without discretion bringeth death — thy mother found it so. Kiss me, and lay my counsel well to heart." Elizabeth, almost shudderii\gly, complied, and the king, feeling exhausted by the effort he had made, called for another cup of wine, and after draining the goblet deeply, asked for Prince Edward. Meanwhile, the princesses had retired, and stationed them- selves on the other side of the chamber, near the queen. On learning his Majesty's pleasure, the Earl of Hertford proceeded to the door from which the princesses had issued, and presently ushered in the youthful prince, conducting him ceremoniously towards the king. The prince was followed by Sir George Blagge and two other gentlemen. All eyes were fixed upon Edward on his entrance, and every head was inclined as if in homage to the future sovereign. Chap, K/] THE KING'S LEAVE-TAKING 53 He gracefully axiknowledged the reverence shown him, which no doubt would have been even greater but from the fear of offending the jealous king. The young prince, it has already been mentioned, had but just entered upon his tenth year, but he seemed to possess a degree of intelligence far beyond his age, and had indeed been most carefully instructed by some of the most learned men of the day. He spoke French and [talian, and had written letters in Latin to his father, his sisters, and the queen. There was a great fragility of look about him, and he seemed to have shot up quickly, like a forced plant. Though tall for his age, his limbs were very slight, and his complexion was of feminine delicacy. In appearance he was more of a Seymour than a Tudor. His face was a per- fect oval, with some traces of his stern father about it, but his lineaments generally resembled those of his beautiful mother. His expression was gentle, but thoughtful — more thoughtful than befitted a child. His eyes were of a dark brown, and soft ; his hair was light in hue, with a tinge of gold in it, worn short, and cut close round the forehead. He was attired like the son of a splendid monarch, and the heir to a powerful throne. His little cassock was of murrey-colored velvet, em- broidered all over with damask, gold and pearls, and having buttons and loops of gold ; his doublet and hose were of dark- red satin, woven with threads of gold, and his velvet buskins were decorated with gold aglets. He was armed with a short rapier and a poniard in a richly ornamented sheath, and a velvet pouch was suspended from his girdle. His flat velvet cap, which was removed on entering his royal father's presence, was adorned with rubies and emeralds, and had a brooch set with fair table diamonds on the right side, over which drooped a blood-red feather. Again Cranmer advanced, and addressed the prince in terms nearly similar to those he had employed towards his sisters, but there was, perhaps, more of deference in his manner. Edward gazed at him with his clear eyes, steadily 54 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologue at first, but, as the archbishop proceeded, the young prince's composure quite forsook him. Natural feelings asserted their sway over his childish breast, and disregarding etiquette, he rushed towards the king, and flinging his little arms round his neck, sobbed out, *' My father ! — my dear father !" So unexpected, though so natural was this occurrence, that, cold and callous as were most of the assemblage, few of them refused it the tribute of sympathy. Some were even moved to tears. Fearing the effect of any sudden shock upon the king, Doctor Butts stepped towards him. But, though Henry was sensibly touched by this display of his son's affection, his nerves were strong enough to bear it. Kissing the boy on the brow, he gently disengaged himself from his embrace, addressing a few soothing words to him in a very kindly tone, while Edward still continued to weep. Thinking the king might be troubled if the scene endured too long, the Earl of Hertford moved towards his nephew, but Henry checked him, by calling out, *' Let him be ! — let him be!" But the action called Edward to himself. Controlling his grief, he knelt on the cushion before the king, and regarding him with eyes that were still filled with tears, he said, *' For- give me, sire ! It is thus I ought to ask your blessing. ' ' *' Thou hast it, my dear child," replied the king, solemnly, yet tenderly. " Heaven bless thee, boy — my kingdom's hope and my own. May those I have appointed to watch over thee fulfil their trust. ' ' ''Doubt it not, my liege," said Hertford, as the king paused for a moment. " Mark me, Edward !" pursued Henry, summoning up all his firmness. *' Eight years must elapse ere thou canst exer- cise the full authority of the crown. I have so willed it. Thou wilt be king soon enough. Meantime, prepare thyself for the high and important duties thou wilt have to discharge. I doubt not thou wilt have the notable virtues and princely Chap. K/] THE KING'S LEAVE-TAKING ^ 55 qualities which should distinguish a sovereign. I know thee to be godly-minded, and I thank Heaven it is so ; pray- ing that thy heart may be illumined to all holy truths. I have provided thee with religious counsellors, to whom my desires are known, and in the soundness of whose judgment and principles I can rely. . Can I not confide the prince's religious culture to you, my Lord of Canterbury? " (to Cran- mer) ; *' and to you, my Lord of Durham? " (to Tunstal.) ''And to me likewise, I would fain hope, my gracious liege ? ' ' observed Gardiner. ''No, not to thee, my Lord of Winchester," rejoined Henry. "Thou art a tool of the Pope. Listen to me, Edward. Thou wilt be placed under the guidance of the virtuous Cranmer. Give heed to his precepts. But on points of faith, when thou comest to understand them, be biased by no perverse doctrines. There is, unhappily, much discord and variance in the Church. The clergy preach one against another, teach one contrary to the other, inveigh one against another, without charity or discretion, and few or none of them preach truly and sincerely the word of God according as they ought to do. Unto thee it will be com- mitted to correct these offences, and extinguish these dissen- sions. Thou wilt enjoy the same supreme spiritual authority as myself. Thou wilt be Heaven's vicar and high minister. Be not an unprofitable servant. Tread in thy father's foot- steps — so shalt thou not stray from the path. ' ' "I will do all that in me lies to act as you enjoin me, sire,'* replied Edward, meekly. * 'And I trust that with the aid of his good Grace of Canterbury, I may succeed. I thank you heartily for placing me in his Grace's hands." ' ' The boy hath been schooled in this, ' ' remarked Wriothes- ley, in a low, contemptuous tone, to Gardiner. " No doubt on't j and he knows his lesson well," rejoined the bishop. " But we will teach him better ere long." "Thus much for thy religious culture, my son," pursued 56 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER ^Prologue Henry. ''Though I would have thee pious and learned, I would not have thee hurt thy health by overstudy. To be firm of mind thou must be firm of body : to uphold the kingly dignity, as thy father hath upheld it, thou must be robust and full of vigor. I would have thee skilled in all manly exercises and accomplishments. Strengthen thy arm betimes, so that it can bear a lance, and thy limbs so that they can sustain harness of war, and brook fatigue. ' * *' Nay, father," cried Edward, brightening up and spring- ing to his feet, *'I shall soon be strong enough to bear a lance and ride in the tilt-yard ; my uncle. Sir Thomas Sey- mour, tells me so. I often fence with him, and he tells me I am an apt scholar. I would your majesty could see us at practice. ' ' '* No man is better able to teach thee all thou shouldst learn of martial exercises than thine uncle Seymour, ' ' replied the king, patting his son's head approvingly. '*Sir Thomas,'* he added to Seymour, who stepped forward promptly at the summons, *' I confide this part of my son's education to thee. While others make him a scholar and a theologian, be it thine to teach him princely manners and accomplishments. ' ' *'He shall lack nothing that I am able to teach, rely on it," replied Seymour, bowing profoundly. ' * Give thy uncle thine hand, Edward, ' ' said the king. "Ay will I, and that right willingly," replied the prince, grasping the hand which Seymour proffered him. '' I love my uncle Sir Thomas best of any — your majesty excepted." *' Ha ! is it so ? " mentally ejaculated Hertford. *' Have I no place in thy regard, my gentle nephew ? " he added aloud to the prince. '* Certes, my dear lord ; I were an ingrate else," replied Edward. ''But my uncle Sir Thomas is oftener with me than you are." ''I thought as much," muttered Hertford. "This must be stopped. ' ' iKhmaxh bl A/fer the paintmg by Holbein. Chap. K/] THE KING'S LEAVE-TAKING 57 ** Thou hast my son's hand within thine own, Sir Thomas ?** demanded Henry. '*Ay, my liege," replied Seymour. *' Be it a pledge that thou wilt be ever true to him,*' pur- sued the king. **I hereby vow fidelity to him," said Seymour, bending the knee, and kissing his nephew's hand. ** You are the best lance, the best swordsman, and the best horseman at our court, Sir Thomas," continued the king to Seymour. '* See that my son equals you in all these exer- cises. ' ' ** He shall excel me in them all," replied the other. ''A word in your ear, Sir Thomas," said the king. *' He is but a tender stripling," he added, in a lower tone. ** Press him not beyond his strength. For your sister's sake, be a kind uncle to him. ' ' *' For her sake — for yours, my liege — I will be to him all you could desire, ' ' rejoined Seymour, earnestly. As Sir Thomas retired, Henry said to his son, ** Go to the queen, Edward, and conduct her to me. ' ' Upon this, the prince immediately tripped towards Cath- erine, who caught him in her arms, and kissed him ten- derly ; after whkh she arose and accompanied him to the king. On drawing near her royal husband, the queen would have knelt down, but Henry would not permit her. Taking her hand kindly, he said, with the same earnestness with which he had spoken throughout, ''Thou hast ever been an obe- dient wife, Kate, and in all things comformable to my will. Thou wilt not, therefore, I am well assured, disobey my last injunctions. This pretty boy has never known a mother's love. Be thou a mother to him. Thou hast no child to wean thy tenderness from him — give it him all." *' He has it already, sire," replied the queen. " Dost thou not love me, Edward ? ' ' 58 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Prologue '*Ay, madam, as a mother," replied the prince, affection- ately. '*That is well," said Henry; ** but you must not humor his every whim, Kate. I hear he is somewhat wilful. ' ' ** Those who have said so to your majesty, wrong him," rejoined the queen. ** Edward is ever good and gentle — yea, most tractable. ' * *' If he continue so, it shall be well," said Henry. " Thou lov'st thy sisters, Edward? Speak the truth, boy !" '*I ever do speak truth, sire," replied the prince. **I love them dearly. But I love Elizabeth best," he added, in a lower tone, to the king, ** for Mary is sometimes sharp and peevish with me, but Elizabeth is ever merry and ready for play. ' * ' ' Elizabeth is nearer thine own age, boy. Thou wilt find out Mary's merits as thou growest older," replied the king. *' I would have ye all dwell together in unity — ha !" **What ails your Majesty?" cried . Catherine, alarmed by the sudden alteration of his countenance. *' A spasm — it is gone," rejoined Henry, with a groan. *' Father — dear father! you look ill," cried Edward^ ter- rified. ''Take him away," said the king, faintly, sinking back- wards as he spoke. . All was now confusion and alarm, apprehension being gen- erally entertained that the king was dying. Advancing quickly towards his royal patient. Doctor Butts placed his hand upon his pulse, and watched his countenance with great anxiety. "Is he gone, think you? " asked Gardiner, anxiously, and in a low tone, of Wriothesley. ''It would seem so from Butts's looks," replied the other. "If he be, Norfolk's life is saved, for they will not dare execute him." ' ' Heaven grant it ! " ejaculated Gardiner. ' ' Mark you not Hertford's trouble? Something has been left undone." Chap, yi'\ THE K1NG*S LEAyE-TAKING 59 "All may have been left undone,** rejoined Wriothesley. " I do not think the will is signed." "That were indeed a gain for us,** said Gardiner. " But I dare scarcely hope it. ' * " How fares it with his Highness?" inquired the Earl of Hertford, whose countenance displayed much anxiety, as the physician moved away his hand. "The king will live," replied Butts. "Let the chamber be instantly cleared.** "Ye hear, my lords?*' said Hertford, evidently much re- lieved. " Doctor Butts declares that his Majesty is in no im- mediate danger, but he prays ye all to depart at once.** Thus exhorted, the assemblage began instantly to disperse. Prince Edward, however, still lingered, though the queen, who was moving away, beckoned him to come with her. "May I not stay with the king, my father?** said the prince, plucking Doctor Butts* s robe. "It grieves me to refuse your Highness, but it cannot be,*' replied the physician. "Come with me, Edward,** said Sir Thomas Seymour, " The queen waits for you. This is a scene unmeet for eyes like yours.'* The young prince took his uncle* s hand, and allowed him- self to be led out of the room, looking wistfully at his father as he retired. He never beheld him more. " You are sure he will revive ? ** inquired the Earl of Hert- ford of Doctor Butts, as they were left alone with the still in- animate nionarch. " I am certain of it,** replied the physician. " But I will not answer that he may live many hours. You look uneasy, my lord. What remains to be done ? '* "Everything/* replied Hertford. " Norfolk still lives — and the king hath not signed his wilL * * " He spoke as if he had," remarked Butts. "All think so, and I would not have them undeceived,*' 6o THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologiu replied Hertford. "The will has been well considered and debated, as you know, and is fully prepared, but he ever puts off the signing of it. All my persuasions have failed with him.'' '* Obstinate as he is, he shall sign it," replied the physi- cian. **But hush!" he added, with a gesture of silence; "he stirs! Retire, my lord. And send Ferrys, the king's chirurgeon, to me with all despatch." CHAPTER VII OF THE AWFUL SUMMONS RECEiyED BY THE KING Under the superintendence of Doctor Butts and of the chirurgeon Ferrys, and by the help of an engine employed for the purpose, Henry, who had only partially regained his consciousness, was lifted from his chair, and placed in a couch in the royal sleeping-chamber. The couch wherein he was thus deposited was of unusual size, and made of oak, richly carved, and black and lustrous as ebony. The lofty canopy was crowned with blood-red plumes, and supported by twisted pillars. The curtains were of cloth of gold of the thickest texture, embroidered with the Holy Cross, the cross of Saint George, the Rose, the Portcullis, and the Lion rampant, mingled with Fleurs-de-lys. The head of the bed was sculp- tured in bold relief with the arms of England. Notwithstand- ing the magnificence of its curtains, the general appearance of this huge bed was sombre in the extreme, and it looked a fitting receptacle for an expiring monarch. The walls of the chamber were hung with fine tapestry from the woofs of Tour- nay, representing the principal actions of Solomon the Wise, and in the upper border scrolls were painted in black letter Chap, K//] THE KING'S AlVFUL SUMMONS 6x sundry texts of Scripture, applicable to the destination of the room. A dreadful night ensued, long remembered by those who watched by Henry's troubled couch, or were near enough to hear his appalling groans and roars of agony. No one who then listened to his terrific outcries, or witnessed his desperate struggles for breath, but felt that the despot's numerous vic- tims were amply avenged. For every life taken by him it seemed he must endure a pang : and yet, though ever dying, he could not die. Throughout the long, long night, in that vast, dimly-lighted chamber, rendered gloomier by the dusky furniture and the grim arras on the walls, might be seen dark figures, as if detached from the tapestry, gliding with ghostly footsteps towards the king's couch, questioning the physician and chirurgeon in dumb show, and then swiftly but silently retreating if a groan broke from the royal sufferer. One tall personage, scarcely to be distinguished from the hangings near which he stood, remained stationary at the back of the room throughout the whole night, as if anxiously awaiting the issue of this fearful conflict with death. Ever and anon. Doctor Butts moved noiselessly towards this sombre and mysterious- looking personage, and spoke with him under his breath. Their muttered converse had evident reference to the king, and to something required of him by the untiring watcher, whose gestures proclaimed the utmost anxiety ; but, however important the matter might be. Butts clearly deemed it im- practicable, for he shook his head, and returned alone to the sick monarch's couch. Worn out by anguish, Henry dropped asleep towards morning, and this favorable circumstance being communicated to the watcher, he disappeared, having previ- ously received an assurance from Doctor Butts that he should be instantly sent for if any change for the worse occurred. Some of the drowsy pages and henchmen likewise sought repose ; but the medical attendants did not for a moment quit the king's bedside. 62 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iProiogue Henry slept for several hours, and awoke towards noon much refreshed, and expressed a desire to receive the sacra- ment. After ordering the Bishop of Oxford to be summoned, the king commanded his attendants to lift him out of bed, and set him again in his chair. Doctor Butts endeavored to dissuade him from this step, representing its extreme danger, and counselling the easiest posture possible during the per- formance of the holy office ; but Henry authoritatively declared that he would kneel down, whatever risk might be incurred from the action, or whatever pain it might give him ; adding, " that if he were not only to cast himself upon the ground, but under it, he could not tender to the sacrament the honor that was its due. ' ' No more was to be said. His injunctions were obeyed. Taken up and placed within his chair, he kept his seat until the consecration, when, with much difficulty, he contrived to kneel down before the bishop, and partook of the bread and wine. Though his sufferings must have been intense, he bore them with the constancy of a martyr, and the good prelate, who was much affected, could not sufficiently admire his fortitude. As soon as the sacred rite was over, the king was conveyed back to his couch, and did not appear much worse for the great effort he had made. By his own injunctions, which could not be disobeyed, he was then left wholly undisturbed until late in the day. This was the evening of the Friday before Candlemas -day, 1547. About two hours before midnight, but not till then, the Earl of Hertford, who was in an agony of impatience for an audience, was permitted to approach the king. He found him lying on the couch, propped up by immense pillows. On regarding him, Hertford felt sure that the king was rapidly sinking, though his eye was still keen, and his voice strong and sonorous as evero No time must be lost — no risk heeded — if the great stake for which he was playing was to be won. **Let the chamber be cleared," said Henry. ** Our dis- course must be strictly private." Chap, yill THE KING*!S AlVFUL SUMMONS 63 This being precisely what Hertford desired, he took care that the king's behests should be promptly obeyed. ** We are alone, sire," he said, as soon as all the attend- ants, including Doctor Butts and the chirurgeon, had with- drawn. *' Hertford," said Henry, as the earl approached him, ** you gaze on me as if you thought me worse. Deny it not, man — I can read your true opinion in your looks. No wonder I should appear greatly disordered. Last night was a dreadful one to me, Hertford. Not to purchase a fresh term of sover- eignty would I endure such another. I cannot recall it with- out horror. I underwent the torments of the damned ; and prayed — unavailingly prayed — for release from suffering. Thou knowest I am not idly superstitious — nor a believer in old wives' fables. Prepare then to credit what I shall relate, however surprising and improbable it may seem to thse ; and deem not that my nerves are shaken by sickness. ' ' "Whatever your Majesty shall tell me I shall infallibly believe — doubt it not," replied Hertford. "And I am well assured that your nerves are firmly strung as ever. ' ' "Thou liest ! — thou dost not think so — ^but they are. To my narration, however — and give the more heed to it, inas- much as thou wilt find it concerns thee as well as myself ' ' * ' Is there a ghost in the story, my liege ? ' ' inquired Hert- ford. " Be silent, and thou shalt hear," replied Henry, sternly. "Last night, during a brief interval of ease between my fits of agony, I was trying to court slumber, when I heard the bell toll midnight — I heard it distinctly, for I counted the strokes — ^and as the last vibration of sound died away, I turned to Butts to bid him give me a potion. He was gone, while Ferrys, who should have been watchful, had sunk within the chair nigh which thou standest, apparently overcome by sleep. I was about to awake and chide him — ^and should have done so, had not all power of speech and movement suddenly left 64 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOJVER {PrologM me, as I saw a phantom — a grisly, ghastly phantom — glide towards my bed. Whom thinkest thou I beheld ? ' * ** Nay, I cannot guess, my liege," replied Hertford. ''Surrey, new-risen from his bloody grave — ^his noble fea- tures livid and disfigured — his locks clotted with gore — his stately neck sundered by the axe — ^yet, marvellous to say, set again upon the shoulders — a spectacle horrible to look upon — yet I instantly knew him. His eyes seemed to have life in them, and to fascinate like the basilisk, for, as he fixed them upon me, I could not avert my gaze. Then his lips moved, and with a gesture of menace such as I had never brooked from mortal man, and in accents more terrible than had ever reached my ears, he told me he came to summon me before Heaven's Judgment -Throne ; and that I must appear there ere the bell should again toll forth the hour of mid- night." " Let not this weigh upon your mind, my gracious liege,'* said Hertford, not wholly devoid of superstitious fear himself, though he strove thus to reassure the king. ** I was in your chamber last night at midnight, and long after, and I saw and heard nothing such as you relate. 'Twas an ill dream — but only a dream. I pray you, therefore, dismiss these fancies. They are engendered by the sickness under which you labor." "No, Hertford," replied Henry, in a tone of profound conviction, **it was neither dream, nor product of diseased imagination. I could not have conjured up such a spectre if I would — and I would not if I could," he added, shuddering. *' I saw Surrey plain enough, standing where thou art now. I will not tell thee all the spirit uttered of vengeance and retri- bution — ^but it prophesied a bloody ending to thee and to thy brother." '* I have no fear of the prediction," said Hertford, in a tone that somewhat belied his words ; * ' and I beseech your Highness not to attach any importance to the vision. You Chap. K//] THE KING'S ^IVFUL SUMMONS 65 have told me how the spirit came to you, but you have not explained how it departed.'* '* I know not how it vanished," replied Henry. ** For a time I remained spell -bound, as if under the influence of night- mare ; but at last, by a mighty effort, I broke the charm that seemed to bind me, and called out. I then found the spirit gone, and Butts standing in its place. Ferrys also was awake. ' ' '*A11 is now explained,** said Hertford. ** It was the nightmare that oppressed your Highness. You need have no fear.'* '* Fear ! — I have none !** ejaculated the king. *' No living man ever made the Eighth Henry tremble, nor can any dead man do it. This spirit may be right as regards thee and thy brother, but I will prove it wrong in one particular. ' * ' ' By living beyond the hour appointed by it, I trust, my liege," said Hertford. *^ In one of mortal mould, such a pre- diction would have been treasonable, but spirits are exempt from common penalties.** *' The jest is ill timed, my lord,** observed Henry, sternly, ** I will balk the ghost if I can, by living till to-morrow ; but at all events I will balk him by consigning Norfolk to the block. I will have the duke's head before I die. This will I do, because the ghost told me, as if in mockery, that I should be disappointed. I will send his father to bear him com- pany. ' ' *' Whatever may have prompted this decision, I am glad, right glad, it has been come to," said Hertford. **Were Norfolk permitted to live, he would undoubtedly cause the greatest embarrassment to Prince Edward during his minority. He might do more. Assisted by the Pope, the Emperor Charles V., and their partisans, he might even succeed in transferring the crown from the young prince's head to that of the Princess Mary, and so undo all the work that you, sire, have so long and so assiduously labored to accomplish. 5 66 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOPVER IPrologia He might check the Reformation, as well as alter the succes- sion. You have delivered Prince Edward from one danger- ous enemy, Surrey, but the other, and the more powerful foe, yet lives." "Edward shall never be molested by him," rejoined the king. ** He shall be beheaded to-morrow morning. Get the warrant for his execution at once, and deliver it to the Con- stable of the Tower." '* Why not to-night? " demanded Hertford. *'At this hour!" exclaimed Henry, sternly. "A secret execution would be set down to fear or anger — ^and I feel neither. No ! — to-morrow morning will be soon enough. I shall not change my mind. Go for the warrant. Wherefore do you linger ? ' ' **If I might venture to urge one matter on your Majesty," hesitated Hertford. '* Ha ! what is it ? " demanded the king. '* You have wisely and deliberately made all your arrange- ments for the future, but you have neglected the main point — the signing of your will. Here is the instrument, sire, which you have committed to my custody," he added, pro- ducing a coffer, and taking from it several sheets of paper, tacked together by a braid of green and white ribbon. ** It lacks only your signature, or the impress of your royal stamp, to be complete." ** Leave it with me," said Henry, taking the will. '* Per- chance I may make some alterations in it. ' ' "Alterations!" exclaimed the earl, startled out of his habitual caution. "Ay, alterations! Wherefore not?" cried the king, sharply and suspiciously. "Marry, if it shall please me to erase your name from the list of my executors, I can do so, methinks ? ' ' "Far be it from me to dispute your Highness' s power to make any changes you may deem proper, ' ' replied Hertford, Chap. K///] THE KING'S IVILL SIGNED 67 almost abjectly. " But I implore you not to delay the sign- ing." ''You had best trouble me no more," rejoined Henry, sternly. * 'About your business straight. Send Sir John Gage to me. I desire to consult him. ' ' " Will none other than Sir John Gage serve your turn? " asked Hertford. "Ha ! what is this? Dar'st thou to trifle with me? No one but Gage wt7/ serve my turn. There ! thou art answered. Get thee gone !" Scarcely able to conceal his uneasiness, Hertford made a profound obeisance, and departed. CHAPTER VIII IN WHAT MANNER THE KING'S WILL WAS SIGNED No sooner had Hertford quitted the chamber than Butts and Ferrys, with a host of pages and henchmen, re-entered it. The physician hurried towards his royal patient's couch, and proceeded to feel his pulse. ' ' What think you of me ? ' ' demanded Henry, looking fixedly at him. " Any change for the better? — ha !" "None, sire," replied the physician, gravely. " I understand, " rejoined the king, with great firmness. " Shall I last till to-morrow? Speak truth ; I can bear it." "If Heaven wills it, your Majesty will last so long," answered the physician, with increased gravity. "You are now in far mightier hands than mine. I can do little more to aid you." Henry bore this dread announcement bravely. Leaning back upon his pillow, and looking upwards, he seemed for a 68 THE CONST/tBLE OF THE TOIVER [Prohgw while to be silently engaged in prayer. The physician signed to the attendants to keep still, so that the king was wholly undisturbed. At length, the profound silence was broken by Henry, who, slightly raising himself, and turning to Butts, said, " May I have a draught of wine? Methinks it would do me good." " Ay, marry ! sire, here is a stoup of your favorite Gascoigne wine,'* replied the physician, filling a silver cup with the generous fluid, and presenting it to him. '* I am right glad to find you so stout of heart." '* Enough !" exclaimed the king, putting away the goblet with disgust, after placing it to his lips ; " the wine likes me not. It tastes of blood — ^pah !" '* Will it please you to eat a mouthful of chicken-cuUis?" asked Butts. ''No; I will eat nothing more," replied Henry. ** Let Sir John Gage be sent for with all despatch. Why comes he not?" ** He shall be summoned instantly," replied Butts, issuing the necessary orders, and then returning to the king's bedside. ''Pardon me, sire," he continued, in a low, earnest voice, " if I venture to remind you that you have left a most im- portant matter undone. Your will, I perceive, is lying before you. Delay not the signing of it, I beseech you !" "I will not sign it till I have spoken with Gage," replied Henry, peremptorily. "There will be time to do it then." "Pray Heaven there may!" exclaimed the physician. " Not a moment ought to be lost." "Why comes not Sir John?" demanded Henry, after a pause, in a loud, fierce tone. " Send for him again ; and bid him come quickly, if he values his life. ' ' " He is here, my liege," replied Butts, as the Constable of the Tower entered the chamber, with a paper in his hand. "Ha! you are come at last. Sir John," cried the king, sharply. " Leave us alone together," he added. Chap. VlWi THE KING'S IVILL SIGNED 69 Whereupon the chamber was at once vacated by all save Gage. But, ere the private conference began, the arras on the further side of the king's couch was cautiously raised, and Hertford stole into the room, and unperceived either by Gage or the king, concealed himself behind the thick curtains of the bed. The stealthy entrance of the earl was favored by the circumstance that this part of the chamber was almost buried in darkness. " What paper hast thou in thine hand ? ' ' demanded Henry of the constable. ** One I would rather be without," answered Gage, gruffly — ^*'the warrant for Norfolk's execution to-morrow." ** See it done," rejoined Henry, coldly. ** If it be done, your last act will be one of injustice and cruelty," retorted the constable. *' How knowest thou it will be my last act ? " said Henry, furiously. '' I may live long enough to have thine own head as well as Norfolk's." ** I had rather you had mine than his," said Gage ; "and your own ingratitude would be less. Norfolk has served you longer and better than I have done. ' * ' * Norfolk is dangerous to my son, and therefore he must be removed — and quickly. No more words ! Again I say to thee, see it done !" ''I like it not," grumbled the constable. '* 'Tis a foul deed." ** Hold thy peace ! and turn we to another matter. Thou hast assisted at the debates concerning ray will, and know'st its contents generally. Thou know'st also that I have ap- pointed sixteen executors and twelve counsellors, and that amongst the executors is Hertford." ** This I know !" returned Gage. ' * My mind misgives me as to Hertford, ' ' pursued Henry. ** Something I have noticed in him of late makes me suspect him of sinister designs. I fear he aims at too much power, and will not be altogether true to Edward. ' ' 7© THE COmTABLS OF THE TOWER {Prologue ** Yet the prince is his nephew, and must therefore be most dear to him, ' ' observed Gage. ' * He ought to be, ' * rejoined Henry. ** You judge of others by yourself, good Sir John — ^but all are not of your stamp. If I thought my suspicions of Hertford were correct, I would strike out his name." " Nay, do not that, I entreat you, my liege* I think him faithful," said the constable. '* Thy opinion is ever honest, and I will be guided by it," said the king. ** Hertford's name shall stand, though I had determined otherwise. But I will control him. At present, thou and Sir Thomas Seymour are mere counsellors, without voice or power. Ye both shall be executors, and have equal power with Hertford." ' '. I cannot answer for Sir Thomas Seymour," rejoined Gage ; **but, for myself, I may say that I desire not the office." "I will have no refusal," said Henry, authoritatively. '* Sir Thomas is Edward's favorite uncle. The boy loves him, and is beloved in return. Sir Thomas will guard him well — as thou wilt — ha ? ' ' "Sir Thomas is more to be feared than his brother, ac- cording to my judgment,'* observed Gage. ** There thou art wrong," rejoined Henry. * Sir Thomas is rash and headstrong, but trusty as steel. I have tried him." *' Humph !" ejaculated the constable, dubiously. " Since your Majesty designs to make these changes in your will, why should Gardiner be left out? He is the ablest among the prelates, and of great experience in politics. Moreover, he has done your highness many notable services. ' ' *' For the which he hath been well rewarded," interrupted Henry, sternly. *' I will have none of him. Gardiner hath ability enough, but he is a subtle intriguer, and would set ye all by the ears. I can manage him, but no one else can. Thou art a Papist, Sir John, hence thy recommendation of Chap. Vml THE KINGS WILL SIGNED 71 Gardiner. But he shall have no power to breed discord in the Church when I am gone. It is quite enough that Wriothes- ley should be retained — I had thoughts of erasing his name likewise, and substituting the Marquis of Dorset.** ' ' I pray you do not, sire, ' ' said Gage. '' Nay, thou mayst spare thy suing. I am content to keep the lord chancellor. I do not think he will do much mis- chief, and he will counterbalance Cranmer. Haste, then, and fetch Sir Thomas Seymour, and let William Clerc be in attendance with my secret stamp. My fingers are so swollen that I cannot use the pen." '' Heavens ! is it possible your Majesty can have been so imprudent as to put off the signing of your will till now ? You might have died last night ; and then * * ''Prate not, but do as I have commanded thee,'* inter- rupted the king. * ' Yet stay ! — is Cranmer in the palace ? ' * ' 'Ay, my liege ; his grace is but newly returned from Croy- don," replied the constable. " That is well. Let him come to me anon,** said the king, more feebly. *' This talk has wearied me. I feel as if I could sleep. Send Butts to watch by me, but let me not be other- wise disturbed for an hour. ' ' " But the execution of the will, sire? — it is most urgent,'* cried the constable. But Henry made no reply. He had already begun to breathe heavily and stertorously. After gazing at him for a moment, as if in doubt whether to rouse him. Gage left the room. No sooner was he gone, than Hertford peered from behind the curtain ; and seeing that Henry was asleep — and, indeed, his loud breathing proclaimed the fact — ^he stepped cautiously forward. At the same moment. Butts entered the chamber. Alarmed by Henry's breathing, without noticing the earl, he rushed to the king's bedside. 72 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Prologtu ** *Tis as I feared," he said, after a pause, turning to Hert- ford. " This is the lethargy of death. He will never wake again — or, if he should, his mind will wander. Great Henry's power has left him. The absolute monarch is all helpless now. ' ' *' I would not rouse him from his trance, but let him go, were it not that the will remains unsigned !" exclaimed Hert- ford, distractedly. **I must wake him,'* he added, rushing towards the bed. ** It is in vain, I tell you," said Butts, staying him. "Let me go, sir," said the earl, furiously. '*I shall go mad if 1 lose this great prize. ' * *' You need not lose it," replied Butts. ** The will is here. Take it, and get it stamped. The keeper of the royal signet may be bribed to acquiesce, and witnesses can be procured in the same way. * ' "Your counsel is good, but it cannot be followed," cried Hertford. " Sir John Gage knows that his Majesty designed to make some alteration in his will, and that it is unsigned. The constable is impracticable; there is no purchasing his silence. All is lost." "Not so," rejoined the ready-witted physician, apparently troubled with as few scruples as Hertford himself. "As yet, no one but ourselves is aware of the king's condition. The signing of the will shall not be disputed, even by Gage. Bring hither the keeper of the signet ; bring also the Earls of Essex and Arundel, Sir William Paget, Sir William Herbert, and any others upon whom you can rely, to serve as witnesses. Leave the rest to me. About it, quick !" " It shall be done; and if the scheme prosper, I shall not be wanting in gratitude to its bold contriver, ' ' replied Hert- ford. " While I am on my errand, do you give orders, as if from his Majesty, that no one but myself and those you have mentioned be allowed to enter the chamber. Our plan will be marred infallibly if Gage and my brother gain admittance. ' ' Chap. K///] THE KING'S fVILL SIGNED 73 Butts promised compliance, and Hertford disappeared by the secret entrance. The physician next wetted a napkin, and applied it to Henry's brow, shifting the pillows at the same time, so that the breathing of the dying monarch became sensibly relieved. He then drew the curtains about the bed, so as to hide in a great measure the upper part of the king's person; and afterwards placed a small table, with writing materials upon it, at a little distance from the couch on the left; so dis- posing the lights within the chamber that the bed was left completely in darkness. These precautions taken, he proceeded to the ante-chamber, and calling the chief usher, gave him the orders that had been suggested by Hertford. He was only just in time, for he had scarcely retired when the Constable of the Tower and Sir Thomas Seymour made their appearance ; but they were refused admittance to the king's chamber. In vain Seymour, who was full of anxiety and impatience, remonstrated. The ushers were inexorable. Ere long came a grave -looking personage in a black robe, with a small box under his arm. This was William Clerc, the keeper of the royal signet. He was allowed instant en- trance. Shortly afterwards came the Earl of Hertford, accompanied by the Earls of Essex and Arundel, and the others designated by Butts, all wearing countenances of extreme gravity, as if bound upon some object of the utmost seriousness and impor- tance. Bowing solemnly to Gage and Seymour, they passed on, and were instantly admitted. **This is very strange," remarked Gage. "I cannot understand it. His Majesty told me himself that he would not be disturbed for an hour. Are you quite sure, sir, that the orders are express against our admittance ? " he added, to the chief usher. ** Quite sure. Sir John," replied the individual addressed. 74 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Prologue bowing respectfully. "Doctor Butts delivered them to me himself. ' ' " Hertford has outwitted us, Sir John," remarked Seymour. " We shall neither of us be executors. ' ' '* For my own part, I care not, ' ' rejoined Gage. " I do not covet the distinction. But I hope the king's intentions will be strictly carried out.** Not long after this came Cranmer, who marched straight towards the door, but was detained like the others. The archbishop then joined Gage and Seymour, and was talking with them of the king's dangerous condition, and deeply deploring it, when Butts appeared at the door, and after a word from him to the usher, all three were admitted. "What they beheld was this. Grouped round the little table, with writing materials upon it, were the persons who had subscribed the will as witnesses. Nearer the darkened couch, but with his back towards it, stood William Clerc, by whom, previous to its attestation, the will had been stamped at the top of the first page and the end of the last, and who had just delivered the instrument, thus signed and attested, to Hertford. Butts explained to Cranmer and the others that his Majesty had had just sufficient strength to direct the stamping of his will, but that immediately after this was done, and the attes- tation completed, he was struck speechless. '*It is marvellous that he lasted so long," continued the wily physician. ''He spoke so feebly, that I alone could catch his words. I fear he will scarcely know your Grace," he added, preceding Cranmer to the bed, and drawing back the curtain so as to expose the woeful figure of the king, who was now evidently in extremis; ''he hath but little life left." "I will try," replied the archbishop. Taking the king's hand in his own, he drew close to him, and in tones of the utmost earnestness exhorted him to place his trust in Christ, Chap, yilll THE KING'S WILL SIGNED 75 and to call upon His Mercy, beseeching him, if he had any consciousness left, to give him some token that he trusted in the Lord. Henry seemed to understand what was said to him, for he slightly strained the primate's hand. After a while, the archbishop turned to the assemblage, now gathered round the bed, and, in a voice of the deepest solem- nity, said, "It has pleased Heaven to call to its mercy our great king. Pray ye all for the repose of his soul !** Upon this they all knelt down, and, while they were doing so, the bell tolled forth the hour of midnight. Then Hertford called to mind what the king had said to him concerning the summons by the spirit, and he trembled ex- ceedingly. Thus far the Prologue BOOK I THE LORD PROTECTOR CHAPTER 1 HOW THE EARL OF HERTFORD AND SIR ANTHONY BROWN ANNOUNCED HIS FATHER'S DEATH TO PRINCE EDWARD For two days Henry's demise was kept profoundly secret. On Monday, the last day of January, 1547, the Commons were sent for to the Lords, and the important intelligence was communicated to them by the Lord Chancellor Wriothes- ley, who, at that same time, acquainted them with such por- tions of the late king's will as it was deemed expedient to make public. The interval between the monarch's death and this public announcement of it had been employed by Hert- ford and his partisans in organizing their plans, and debating the measures to be adopted during the new reign. Most of the upper council, in whom the administrative authority was lodged, had been won over by Hertford's promises, and it was not thought that any serious opposition would be offered by such as could not be corrupted — amongst whom were Cran- mer and Tunstal. The only real obstacle in the way of the aspiring earl appeared to be the Lord Chancellor ; but even he might be brought over, or, if troublesome, could be put out. Thus Hertford felt secure, and determined upon the immediate realization of his schemes of aggrandizement. As regarded the Duke of Norfolk, Henry's death, occurring when it did, at a moment of such extraordinary peril to that illustrious nobleman, was a piece of great good fortune, and was regarded by many who adhered to the old belief as nothing less than providential. Had Hertford, however, been allowed his own way, the duke would infallibly have been executed in accordance with Henry's warrant; but Sir John Gage resolutely refused to obey it, threatening, if the matter 79 8o THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I were persisted in, to publish abroad the king's death. By these means Norfolk was saved, though he was still detained a pris- oner in the Tower. The young Prince Edward himself was kept in ignorance of the loss he had sustained until the Sunday, when it was an- nounced to him by his elder uncle in person, attended by Sir Anthony Brown, master of the horse, and devoted to the earl. The young prince was staying at Hertford with the Princess Elizabeth, whither they had been sent after their last inter- view with their royal father. The earl and his companions found the prince engaged in reading Ludovicus Vives's " In- struction of a Christian Woman' ' to his sister. Closing the book, and quitting the reading-desk near which he was sta- tioned, Edward immediately advanced to meet them. He was greatly affected by the intelligence which they brought him, though not unprepared for it, and though it was con- veyed in terms and in a manner calculated to rob it of much of its distressing effect. Kneeling down before him, the earl and Sir Anthony sa- luted him as king, and tendered him their homage. Edward was too much afflicted to make any suitable reply. He turned away, and flinging himself into the arms of his sister, who was standing beside him, and equally grieved with himself, he mingled his tears with hers. ** Never," says Sir John Hay- ward, describing the occurrence, **was sorrow more sweetly set forth, their faces seeming rather to beautify their sorrow, than their sorrow to cloud their faces. Their young years, their excellent beauties, their lovely and lively interchange of complaints in such sort graced their grief, as the most iron eyes at that time present were drawn thereby into society of their tears. ' ' Deeming it best to let his royal nephew's grief have free course, Hertford did not off"er him any consolation at first, but arising from his kneeling posture, he withdrew to a little distance with Sir Anthony. Chap. /] HENRY'S DEATH ANNOUNCED 8l ''We have lost the best of fathers, Elizabeth," said Edward, at last, looking up at her face through his tears. *' But he is in Heaven, and therefore we need not mourn for him. Yet I cannot help it. " And he wept afresh. ''Be comforted, gentle brother," said the princess, tenderly. " Our father is happily released from suffering. I did not think we should ever see him again on earth. You must be a man now, since you are king. ' ' "Alas!" exclaimed Edward, sobbing. "My heart sinks at the thought of it." "And mine swells at the bare idea," rejoined the princess. " Cheer up, dear brother — or I ought rather to say, my gracious lord and master, for you are so now. How strange that sounds, Edward ! Marry ! it must be mighty fine to be king — to wear the diadem, and sit in state, to swear great oaths, and have all tremble at your frown — as they used to do at our father's." "Elizabeth!" said Edward, with something of reproach. " Is this a season for jesting ? " " Nay, I do not jest," she replied, seriously. " I but gave utterance to thoughts that arose unbidden in my breast. I have ever spoken without restraint to you, dearest brother. ' ' "And I trust you ever will do so," he rejoined, affection- ately. "I love you, sweet Bess. You shall be my chief counsellor. I will confide all my secrets to you. * ' "Your uncle Hertford will not let you," she returned. " He is watching us narrowly now — trying to make out what you are saying to me. Have a care of him, Edward. ' ' ' ' I would my uncle Sir Thomas Seymour were here, ' ' said the young king ; ' ' but I am told he has been denied access to me. " " By whom? — ^by my lord of Hertford?" demanded Eliz- abeth. "Very likely," returned Edward. "But I wt7/ see him now I am king. Sir Thomas is a great favorite of yours, Bess?— ha!" 6 82 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iBookl **Sir Thomas discourses pleasantly, dances well, and hath an excellent ear for music," she replied. *'And is very handsome withal — own you think so, Bess ? " ''Nay, I have never bestowed enough consideration upon him to declare if he be handsome or otherwise, ' * she replied, blushing slightly. '*Out on my unruly tongue for leading me thus astray !" exclaimed Edward, suddenly checking himself. ' * A moment ago I chided you for unseasonable levity, dear Bess, and I now am indulging in it myself. Come with me to my uncle Hertford." With this he took her hand, and the young pair slowly, and with much dignity, directed their steps towards the earl, who instantly advanced with Sir Anthony to meet them. ' ' I am glad to see your grace look somewhat lighter of heart," said Hertford, bowing profoundly; *' for though grief at so great a loss is natural, and indeed commendable, you have many necessary duties to fulfil which cannot be delayed, and the discharge whereof will serve to distract you from the thoughts of your bereavement. I am come, with Sir Anthony Brown, your master of the horse, to escort your Majesty to Enfield, where you will sleep to-night. To-morrow you will be conducted to the Tower, there to meet all the lords, spir- itual and temporal, who will assemble to tender their alle- giance. Have you much preparation to make ere setting out?" '* Not much, my lord — not any, indeed," replied Edward. *' I am ready to attend you now. But I would fain bid fare- well to my preceptors — unless they are to go with me, which I should much prefer." *' They shall follow anon," returned Hertford. ** But you will have so much to do at first, that you must, perforce, dis- continue your studies for awhile. Your Grace will be pleased to say nothing to your preceptors as to what takes you hence, for the proclamation will not be made before to-morrow, and Chap.I'i HENRY *S DEATH ANNOUNCED 83 till then, for reasons I will presently explain, the utmost secrecy as to the demise of your royal father must be ob- served. This premised, I will cause them to be summoned. Ho, there ! " he added, to an attendant. * * Let Sir John Cheke and Doctor Cox be called. His highness is about to set forth for Enfield." *' Nay, I will go to them," cried Edward. '*Your Majesty's pardon," rejoined Hertford, in a low tone j *^ they must now wait on you. * ' Presently afterwards, two ancient personages, of very thoughtful and studious aspect, clad alike in long black gowns bordered with fur, and having velvet caps on their bald heads, entered the hall. The foremost of them, the learned Sir John Cheke, carried a ponderous folio under his arm; the other was the no less erudite Doctor Cox. Being afflicted with gout, and requiring the support of a staff. Doctor Cox came on rather more slowly than his fellow- tutor. Sprung from an ancient family, a ripe scholar, a proficient in oratory, and remarkably well versed in the Platonic philosophy, Sir John Cheke was the author of several learned treatises, and is described by Doctor Thomas Wilson, secretary of state to Queen Elizabeth, who knew him well, as '* that rare learned man, and singular ornament of the land." His sister was wedded to Cecil, afterwards the great Lord Burleigh. To philosophy, Cheke' s fellow-preceptor, Doctor Cox, added a profound knowledge of divinity. Both Edward's tutors were extremely zealous Reformers, and it was no doubt owing to their judicious training that the young king became one of the brightest ornaments and most effectual supporters of the Protestant cause. Edward flew to meet his preceptors, and, running up to Doctor Cox, cried, '*Lean on me, good Doctor — lean on me!" Cox respectfully declined his aid, but suffered him to take 84 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I his hand, and so lead him towards the Earl of Hertford, who was in the act of courteously saluting Sir John Cheke. *'My royal pupil tells me your lordship is about to take him hence," said Doctor Cox, bowing to the earl. ** I am sorry his studies will be interrupted." "They will only be interrupted for a time. Doctor," replied Hertford. '*Most like he will not return here," he added, with a certain significance, **but you and Sir John Cheke will rejoin him. His Highness derives too much benefit from the able tuition of ye both to be longer deprived of it than is absolutely needful. Ye spare no pains with him, learned sirs, of that I am well satisfied. ' ' ' * Few pains are needed, my lord, ' ' replied Cheke. ' ' More credit is due to his Highness than to us for the rapid progress he hath made. Trouble or difficulty with him we have none, for he hath a rare capacity for learning, and zeal and industry equal to his ability; and that is saying no light thing. He never tires of reading, but turns from profane history to phi- losophy, and from philosophy to the Holy Scriptures and theology. He is mastering all the liberal sciences. Logic he hath studied, as your lordship knows, and at this present he is learning Aristotle's Ethics in Greek, and, having finished with it, he will take up the Rhetoric. ' ' ** I can corroborate all Sir John hath advanced," observed Doctor Cox. , "His Highness needs no spur to study — nay, his application is so great that he rather requires to be checked than stimulated. He hath recently read Cato, the Satellitium of Vives^ and the fables of ^sopus. As to Latin, he knows it better than many an English boy of his age knows his mother tongue. Peradventure, your lord- ship hath seen his letters in that language to the king his father?" "I pray you speak not of them, dear Doctor," cried Edward, bursting into tears. " I crave your Highness' s pardon !" exclaimed the worthy Chap. /] HENRY'S DEATH ANNOUNCED 85 man, who was most tenderly attached to his royal pupil. " I would not pain you for the world. * ' '* I know it," replied Edward, regarding him through his streaming eyes with almost filial affection ; '* but my heart is too full just now, and will overflow. ' * '* Your accounts of my royal nephew's progress are most gratifying, learned sirs," observed Hertford, anxious to turn the discourse. '*That you have avouched nothing more than the truth, I am sure ; yet ye almost make him out a prodigy." "And a prodigy he is," cried Sir John Cheke, with enthu- siasm. " Few there be like him. " "Nay, my good uncle, you must distrust what my kind preceptors are pleased to say of me," remarked Edward. " They view me with too partial eyes." At this juncture an interruption, anything but agreeable to Hertford, was offered by the unexpected entrance of Sir Thomas Seymour, evidently, from his looks and the state of his apparel, fresh from a rapid journey. Disregarding the angry glances directed against him by his brother. Sir Thomas doffed his cap, flung himself on his knee before Edward, and taking the youthful monarch's hand, exclaimed, " God save your Grace ! I hoped to be first to tell you that the sover- eignty of this realm hath devolved upon you, but I find I have been anticipated. ' ' "I thank you heartily, gentle uncle," replied Edward, "not for your news," he added, sadly, "for I had liefer you had brought me any other, but for your display of loyalty and attachment. ' ' " Have I and my fellow-preceptor been standing all this while in the presence of our gracious sovereign without know- ing it? " exclaimed Sir John Cheke, as Seymour arose. " I pray you pardon us, and accept our homage. ' ' So saying, he and Doctor Cox knelt down before the young king, who gave them each a hand. 86 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I *'Inow see my inadvertence," said Cox, ''and I again pray your Majesty to pardon it." *' Think of it no more," replied Edward. ''Arise, my be- loved monitors and preceptors. It is true I am your sovereign lord, but you must still only regard me as a pupil." "You have done wrong in coming here, sir, without au- thority, ' ' said the Earl of Hertford, in a stern tone, to his brother, "and will incur the displeasure of the council." " So I incur not his Majesty's displeasure, I shall rest per- fectly easy as to the council's anger," rejoined Seymour, in a tone of haughty indifference. " Having discharged an errand which you have most offi- ciously and unwarrantably taken upon yourself, ' ' pursued the earl, with increasing wrath, " you will be pleased to depart. — How ! do you loiter ? " " His Majesty has not commanded me to withdraw, and I only obey him," returned Seymour, carelessly. ' ' Nay, my good lord, ' ' said Edward to the earl, ' ' my uncle Sir Thomas seems to have ridden hard, and must need some refreshment after his hasty journey. That obtained, he can accompany us to Enfield. ' ' " He cannot go with us," cried Hertford, forgetting him- self in the heat of the moment. "How?" exclaimed Edward, a frown crossing over his face, and giving him a slight look of his father. Without another word he then turned to Sir Thomas, and said, "Prithee, make haste, gentle uncle. Get what you lack, and then prepare to ride with us to Enfield. ' ' "All thanks to your Majesty, but I want nothing," rejoined Seymour. " I am ready to set forth with you at once." The Princess Elizabeth, who had been standing a little apart with Sir Anthony Brown, and who appeared highly pleased with her royal brother's assumption of authority, here clapped her hands for an attendant, and commanded a cup of wine for Sir Thomas Seymour. Chap. //] EDIVARD PROCLAIMED KING 87 * * I will not refuse this, ' ' said Seymour, when the wine was brought. '* May your Majesty reign long and prosper- ously ! " he added, raising the goblet to his lips. Having bidden adieu to his preceptors, and taken a tender leave of his sister, telling her to be of good cheer, and assur- ing her that their separation should not be long, Edward then informed the Earl of Hertford that he was ready to set forth, who thereupon ceremoniously conducted him to the door. They were followed by Sir Anthony Brown and Sir Thomas Seymour, the latter of whom lingered for a moment to whis- per a few words to the Princess Elizabeth. Horses and escort were in readiness outside ; and thus the youthful king, accompanied by both his uncles, rode to En- field, where he rested that night. CHAPTER II HOW KING EDIVARD THE SIXTH IVAS PROCLAIMED AT WESTMINSTER; HOW HE RODE FROM ENFIELD TO THE TOWER OF LONDON; AND HOW THE KEYS OF THE TOWER WERE DELIVERED TO HIM BY THE CONSTABLE Next morning, Henry's demise was published abroad, and as soon as the news, which spread like wildfire, became gen- erally known, an immense crowd collected before the palace of Westminster, where barriers were erected, and other pre- parations made, for proclaiming his youthful successor. A hard frost prevailed, and the day was clear and bright, though extremely cold. The general aspect of the crowd was anything but sorrowful, and few regrets were expressed for the departed monarch, though Henry had been by no means un- popular with the middle and lower ranks of his subjects, who approved of his severity so long as it did not touch themselves, 88 THE CONSTABLE OF THE 701VER. {Book I but was merely exercised against the nobility. They did not, however, like his "Whip with Six Lashes," as the terrible statute of the Six Articles was commonly designated, for it cut right and left, and might hit any of them. All were glad he was gone, and many a remark was boldly uttered which would have caused the speaker to become acquainted with the Marshalsea or the Fleet in the king's lifetime. Most of the women — and there were plenty of them amidst the throng — loaded his memory with opprobrium on account of his treat- ment of his spouses ; but their husbands jestingly retorted that he had therein showed his wisdom, since the readiest way of getting rid of a troublesome wife was to cut off her head. But by far the most audacious speech was uttered by a tall, gaunt monk in the habit of a Franciscan friar, who, mounting a flight of steps, thus harangued the crowd in a loud voimore in this manner. I will not change the belief in which I have been nurtured, even to purchase liberty and the restora- tion of my wealth and honors. ' ' 1 64 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I * *■ Your Grace is very stubborn, ' ' remarked Edward, with a look of displeasure. *'It is idle to argue with him, sire," said the lord pro- tector. ** Severer measures might work his conversion, and these shall be adopted if your Highness wills it." *■ *■ Try them, ' ' cried Norfolk. * < Bring the sworn tormentor here, and let him essay his implements upon me. He may wrench my joints asunder, but he shall not tear me from the opinions to which I cling. The crucifix is graven on my heart as deeply as on yonder wall, and cannot be plucked forth, save with life. ' ' At this juncture. Sir John Gage felt it behoved him to inter- pose in behalf of the unfortunate duke. **If your Majesty will listen to one who ever spoke fear- lessly to your august father," said the worthy constable, ** and whose sincerity was never questioned, though his bluntness may sometimes have given offence, you will abandon all idea of making the Duke of Norfolk a proselyte. Neither by fair means nor foul will his grace's conversion be wrought." *'You are in the right, good Sir John," cried the duke. " I will die for my faith, if need be, but I will not for- sake it. ' ' * ' It will be labor in vain, therefore, ' ' continued the con- stable, ^*to proceed in a task impossible of accomplishment. More than this, the course will be fraught with consequences inauspicious to the commencement of your reign, as I will ven- ture to point out. The adherents to the old faith — of whom I am one — would consider any undue rigor shown their chief, as they still regard his Grace of Norfolk, on account of his re- ligion, as a blow aimed at themselves, and as an ensample of what they may in turn expect ; whereby the minds of half, nay, more than half, your now loving and loyal subjects will be estranged, discontent will speedily manifest itself, and troubles ensue, not easily quelled, and greatly perplexing to the government. Entertaining this view of the matter, I Chap. A-] KING EDIVARD VISITS NORFOLK 165 humbly advise your Majesty not to meddle with his Grace of Norfolk's religion. By making a martyr of him, you will only serve the cause you desire to put down. ' ' * ' If your Highness is bent on making a proselyte of the duke, try what reasoning and persuasion will do before having recourse to extreme measures," remarked Sir Thomas Sey- mour. *' Let his Grace of Canterbury be sent to him." ** I will not see Cranmer," cried Norfolk, sharply. ** He is my abhorrence. If he be forced upon me I will shut mine ears to his discourse, and utter no word in reply. ' ' **What is to be done with such a stiff-necked bigot?" exclaimed the lord protector, shrugging his shoulders. * * Com- passion is thrown away upon him. ' ' ** If the duke's long services cannot procure him any miti- gation of his sentence," remarked the constable, *'at least let him enjoy his opinions undisturbed. Here, in this dungeon, they can harm no one save himself. ' ' '' I love his Grace of Norfolk sufficiently to feel great con- cern for the welfare of his soul," observed Edward. "I do not despair of opening his eyes to his errors, and rescuing him, even at the eleventh hour, from perdition. The separa- tion of one so eminent from the communion of Rome would redound to the honor of the Reformed Church, and I have set my heart upon effecting it. The greater the difficulty, the greater will be the merit. ' ' '*I am glad to hear your Highness announce such praise- worthy intentions," said Hertford. '*They are sure to give satisfaction to the majority of your subjects. ' ' '* Again I implore your Majesty to forbear," cried Gage. *'You are ill advised to commence your rule with persecu- tion." ''How, Sir John!" exclaimed the lord protector. "Do you dare impugn my counsel ? ' ' ''Ay," rejoined the constable, firmly. "Moreover, I dare bid you take heed, lest you pull about your ears the house you 1 66 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOURER [Book I have but newly reared. Body o* me ! I dared speak my mind to King Harry, of whom I stood in some awe; and think you I shall not dare to utter it to your Highness, of whom I stand in none? Nay, marry, but I will." * ' Sir John ! good Sir John ! I pray you moderate yourself, ' ' cried Norfolk. ** If I should unhappily be the means of drag- ging you into the pit into which I have fallen myself, it will aggravate my affliction. Let my enemies work their will against me. I can bear it all without a murmur. But let me not feel that I have harmed a friend. ' ' ' * Let me join my entreaties to those of Sir John Gage, that your Highness pursue this matter no further for the present, ' ' said Sir Thomas Seymour. * 'Above all, let not any warmth of temper which the worthy constable may have displayed prejudice him in your eyes." ** Nay, if my wise father could overlook Sir John's impetu- osity, in consideration of his worth, I am not like to be more particular," replied Edward. **But he should reflect that by over-zeal he may injure his own cause." '* Rebuke so just and yet so temperate, proceeding from lips so young, shows what may be expected from your Highness' s mature judgment," replied the constable. ** I thank you for the lesson, and will lay it carefully to heart. ' * " Let me not be backward in acknowledging that my own hastiness occasioned Sir John's display of temper," said the lord protector, **and therefore your Majesty's just rebuke ap- plies to me as well as to him. I pray you to forgive me, good Sir John." ''Nay, your Highness makes more of the matter than it needs," rejoined the constable, heartily. " Since they are all making friends, the real cause of the quarrel will be overlooked," whispered Xit, who was still with the royal party, to Sir Thomas Seymour. * ' Peace, knave ! ' ' cried the latter, sharply. "My indiscretion, I trust, hath not prejudiced the duke's Chap, X^ KING EDIVARD VISITS NORFOLK 167 cause with your Majesty," said Sir John Gage. *^ If so, I shall deeply lament it." '^ Set your mind at ease on that score, good Sir John," re- turned Edward. ** Second thoughts, they say, are best, and on reflection, I have decided upon leaving his Grace of Norfolk to the free indulgence of his own religious opinions, erroneous and pernicious as I feel them to be. If any change comes over him, I shall hail it with the liveliest satisfaction — with the joy of the shepherd at the return of a lost sheep. Means shall not be wanting towards this end, and good books shall be provided for him. It grieves me that I cannot hold out any promise of liberation to his grace. So long as he en- tertains these opinions he must remain a prisoner. It might be injurious to the well-being of our Church to let so power- ful an enemy go free. ' ' **I am content, and humbly thank your Majesty," replied the duke, bowing his head in resignation. ** I must repeat," said Edward, preparing to depart, '* that it will be your Grace's own fault if you be not speedily liber- ated, and restored to favor." Norfolk shook his head mournfully, and bowed reverentially as the king and his attendants departed. Soon afterwards, the door was barred on the outside by Tombs. On hearing the noise of the bolts shot into their sockets, the unfortunate prisoner heaved a deep sigh, and then took up his mallet and chisel. *' Men's hearts are harder than this stone," he muttered, as he resumed his sad and solitary task. ''Something tells me that boy's reign will be a short one. If it shall please Heaven to spare me to see the right succession restored in the person of Mary, and the old belief brought back, I shall die happy ! " 1 68 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book I CHAPTER XI SHOIVING HOIV SIR THOMAS SEYMOUR PROSPERED IN HIS SUIT Towards evening, on the same day, the Princess Eliza- beth and her escort, accompanied by her governess, Mistress Catherine Ashley, and the young king's preceptors. Sir John Cheke and Doctor Cox, arrived at the Tower. Sir Thomas Seymour, who had been on the watch for more than an hour, and whose impatience by this time had risen almost to fever heat, no sooner beheld the troop of arquebusiers, with the princess at its head, crossing Tower Hill, than he flew to meet her, and continued by the side of her palfrey as she entered the gates of the fortress. Elizabeth blushed deeply as her handsome suitor drew nigh, and exhibited a confusion from which Seymour drew a favorable augury. Moreover, his anticipations of success were confirmed by the glance he received from his esquire, who rode behind the princess with Mistress Ashley and the young king's preceptors — a glance that proclaimed as plainly as words, that all had gone on smoothly and satisfactorily. Never had Seymour looked more captivating to female eye than on this occasion. When he chose to exert the full force of his remarkable attractions, he was almost — as his esquire had described him — irresistible. Elizabeth now found him so. Some months previously, during the late king's lifetime, perceiving that the fair young princess deigned to cast her regards upon him. Sir Thomas, whose temerity was equal to his good looks, had not hesitated to declare his passion. The declaration, however, was but coldly received, and he subsequently yielded to the temptings of ambition which Chap. A-/] SEYMOUR PROSPERS IN HIS SUIT 169 pointed out the queen- dowager as the better match. At the last moment, however, and when he was all but committed to Catherine, his passion for Elizabeth revived with greater intensity than ever, and, as we have seen, decided him, at the risk of losing the prize of which he felt secure, to make a final attempt to win her. On the princess's part, whatever prudent resolutions she might have formed, and however decided the refusal she designed to give, her determination failed her at the sight of her resistless admirer, and she listened to his honeyed words with a complacency that seemed to warrant the conclusions he drew as to her improved disposition towards him. *'Your esquire, Signor Ugo, is an Italian, it would seem, Sir Thomas? — ^at least, he chiefly spoke that language to me, ' ' she observed, as they passed through the gateway of the By-ward Tower. * ' Mezzo-Italiano, altezza," replied Seymour, smiling. "A Tuscan on the mother's side." ** By my fay, a sprightly galliard !" she rejoined; '*and much devoted to you, I should judge. He could talk of little else save his lord's merits and noble qualities, and harped so much upon the theme, that I was obliged at last to bid him change it, or hold his tongue. ' * ' ' I am sorry he has offended your Highness, ' ' returned Seymour. **ln future, his manners shall be amended, or he shall no longer continue esquire of mine. But he hath heard me speak so often of you, and in such terms, that he may have fancied himself in duty bound to extol me to your Highness. I gave him credit for more discretion. ' ' '* Nay, I might have been content to listen to his praises of you, Sir Thomas," observed the princess, blushing. *'But when he repeated what you had said of me, I deemed it time to check him. Methinks you make too great a confidant of this galliard. They of his country are proverbially faith less." I70 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOJVER [Book I **But Ugo is only half Italian, as I have just said," rejoined Seymour, '*and I have bound him to me by ties of deepest gratitude. I have every reason to believe him faithful ; but your Highness may rely upon it, I will not trust him further than can be done with safety. And there are some secrets I shall keep sedulously guarded from him. ' ' **You have given him a key to one he ought never to have been intrusted withal," remarked Elizabeth, half-re- proachfully. ' ' Nay, if your Highness views the matter thus gravely, I shall indeed be angry with the knave, ' * rejoined Seymour. '* But you may rest quite easy — whatever he may suspect, he knows nothing of a certainty. ' ' '* I am not to be deceived on that score," returned Eliza- beth. ^^ No man ever spoke as that galliard did, without authority for what he uttered. ' ' '*Hum! the impudent varlet must have gone too far," mentally ejaculated Seymour. '*He shall never offend again in like sort," he added, aloud. ^VTo chide him will not mend matters," said the princess. * ' If anybody deserves reproof for presumption, it is yourself. Sir Thomas. Signor Ugo is the mere tool of his lord. ' ' * ' Signor Ugo shall pay dearly for it, if he loses me only a feather's weight of your Highness' s good opinion, which I value more than my life, ' ' cried Seymour. ^ * If I have been too bold, the force of my passion must plead my excuse. Since I last beheld your Highness at Enfield, your charms have had such an effect upon me that my judgment has scarce been under my own control. Every thought has been given to you — every emotion has been influenced by you. My exist- ence hangs on your breath. It is for you to make me the proudest and the happiest of men, or to plunge me into the lowest depths of despair. ' ' ''No more of this, I pray you, Sir Thomas," replied the princess, her bosom palpitating quickly, for she was not in- Chap.Xn SEYMOUR PROSPERS IN HIS SUIT 171 sensible to his ardor. ' ' You will draw the eyes of the by- standers upon us, and some sharp and curious ear may catch your words. ' ' ' * Nay, condemn me not to silence till I have learnt my fate!" cried Seymour, in accents trembling with emotion, which was communicated to the princess as he approached her saddle. ** Idolo del mio cuore ! what response do you vouchsafe to my letter ? Speak, I implore you, and put me out of my misery. ' ' ** To-morrow I will decide," said Elizabeth, in tones al- most as tremulous as his own." *'No, now — now, adorata!" cried Seymour, pressing still closer towards her, and essaying to take her hand. At this critical juncture the warning voice of his esquire reached him. They were now not far from the entrance of the palace. " Zitto ! zitto ! monsignore," cried Ugo. '* Eccola 11 ! — alia finestra del palazzo — la Regina Caterina !" Roused by the caution, Seymour looked up, and, to his in- finite annoyance and dismay, beheld Queen Catherine Parr, with the Countess of Hertford, the Marchioness of Dorset, Lady Jane Grey, and some other court dames, looking down upon them from the open casements of the palace. Though it did not seem possible that the queen-dowager could have heard what was passing between the pair, yet the enamored deportment of Seymour, his propinquity to the princess, and the blushes and downcast looks of the latter, seemed scarcely to leave a doubt as to the subject of their discourse. The scornful and indignant glance given by Catherine to Sir Thomas satisfied him that her jealousy was awakened. Eliza- beth looked up at the same moment, and was covered with confusion on perceiving so many eyes directed towards her. *^ Retire instantly, I entreat you, Sir Thomas," she said, hastily — ** you have placed me in a very embarrassing situa- tion." 172 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I '* Heed them not, fair princess !" he rejoined, complying, however, with her injunctions, and removing from her side ; " they will merely think some light and trivial discourse hath been passing between us. " '* The queen, my stepmother, looked as if she had a shrewd notion of the truth," rejoined Elizabeth. ''It maybe well to lull her suspicions," said Seymour. ** Treat the matter lightly, and laugh it off, if she questions your Highness, as peradventure she may. She can have over- heard nothing, so you are quite safe on that head." In another moment they reached the entrance of the pal- ace, near which the three gigantic warders were stationed, Edward having expressly commanded that, during his stay at the Tower, they should be constantly placed on guard there. A crowd of henchmen, pages, ushers, grooms, and other func- tionaries had issued from the palace as soon as the princess's arrival at the fortress was announced, and they were now drawn up at the foot of the perron leading to the principal door to receive her. Alighting from her palfrey with the aid of Sir Thomas Seymour, Elizabeth entered the palace with Mistress Ashley, and was ceremoniously ushered by the mar- shal of the hall into the apartment assigned her. After making some slight change in her apparel, she descended to one of the state-rooms, where she was informed by Fowler she would find her royal brother. Edward was impatiently ex- pecting her, and on her appearance he flew to meet her, em- braced her tenderly, and gave her a hearty welcome to the Tower. Scarcely had the amiable young monarch's raptures at the sight of his dearly-loved sister subsided into calm satisfaction, when he found a new subject for delight in the appearance of his two tutors. To the infinite astonishment of Fowler, who would have expressed his courtly dissatisfaction at the pro- ceeding, if he had dared, he ran towards them as he had flown to Elizabeth, and gave them both a very affectionate Chap. XI ;\ SEYMOUR PROSPERS IN HIS SUIT 173 and unceremonious greeting. Taking them kindly by the hand, he prevented them from kneeling, saying with much benignity, ' * I have received you in private, my respected preceptors, because I wish all ceremony to be dispensed with in regard to friends I so entirely love and esteem as your- selves. As far as possible, I desire our old relations to con- tinue. At the earliest opportunity I shall resume my studies with you, and while so employed I shall altogether lay aside the king, and be again your pupil.'* ** Such words have rarely issued from royal lips, sire," re- plied Sir John Cheke, **and do as much credit to your head as to the heart that prompted their utterance." '*Do not flatter me, worthy Sir John," rejoined Edward, smiling. * * Now that I have got you with me, my dear pre- ceptors, and my sister Elizabeth," he added, looking affec- tionately at her, ^ ' I shall be perfectly happy, and care not how long I may remain at the Tower. Since I have been here, Elizabeth, ' ' he continued to the princess, who had now joined the group, ** I have formed a strict friendship with our cousin, the Lady Jane Grey. Her tastes, in all matters, co- incide with my own. She likes reading, and is very devout. I am sure you will love her. ' ' " I am quite sure I shall if your Highness loves her," re- plied the princess. ** You will be able to form an opinion upon her at once, for here she comes," observed Edward, as the subject of their discourse entered the chamber with the queen -dowager, the Marchioness of Dorset, the Countess of Hertford, and most of the other court dames who had witnessed the princess's arrival from the windows of the palace. Catherine's manner towards her stepdaughter was cold and constrained, and her greeting anything but cordial. On her side, Elizabeth was no less distant and haughty. Her pride was instantly roused by the queen-dowager's treatment, and she resented it with great spirit. Besides, she instinctively 174 Tf^E COhlSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I recognized a rival, and this feeling sharpened her sense of injury. As yet, Catherine had not had opportunity of upbraiding her fickle suitor by word or look, but in the very midst of the scene we have described he entered the chamber. To keep aloof from the dispute would have seemed to be Sir Thomas's wisest course, but he knew better. He did not miscalculate the extent of his influence upon either party. At a reassuring smile from him, the frowns vanished as if by magic from Catherine's brow, and her countenance resumed its wonted serenity. At a glance, perceptible only to herself, . Elizabeth was instantly softened, and assumed a more concilia- tory manner and tone towards her stepmother. Lady Hert- ford noticed this sudden and striking change, and failed not to attribute it to the true cause. An unguarded exclamation of Catherine on beholding Sir Thomas's marked attention to the princess on the arrival of the latter at the Tower, had led Lady Hertford to suspect the truth, and subsequent ob- servations confirmed the surmise. Still smarting from the affronts she had received from the queen -dowager, she now felt that revenge was in her power. Catherine's coldness and asperity towards his sister had much pained the amiable young monarch, and he was just about to interfere, when Seymour's appearance dispelled the clouds, and turned the gloom into sunshine. ''On my faith, gentle uncle," he said, with a smile, ''yoa bring good humor with you. We seemed on the verge of some incomprehensible misunderstanding here, which your presence has sufficed to set right. What witchery do you practise ? ' ' * ' None that I am aware of, my gracious liege, ' ' replied Sir Thomas. ' ' But were I an enchanter, my spells should undo mischief, not work it. I would put trust in the place of groundless suspicion, and gentleness in that of inconsiderate heat. By so doing, I might justly merit your Majesty's com- mendation. " Chap. Xl'\ SEYMOUR PROSPERS IN HIS SUIT 175 *' You give yourself a good character, Sir Thomas," ob- served Catherine, with some remains of pique. '^ Not better than he is fairly entitled to, gracious madam," observed Edward. *' If my uncle always exercises his talent for pleasing as beneficially as on the present occasion, he has a right to be vain of it. ' ' '*An please your Majesty," said Fowler, advancing and bowing profoundly, **the marshal of the hall hath just entered to announce to your Grace that the banquet is served. ' ' ''Marry, then, we will to it at once," replied Edward. ** Fair cousin, your hand," he added, to the Lady Jane Grey, **and do you, gentle uncle, conduct our sister to the ban- queting hall. ' ' Secretly delighted, though drawing a discreet veil over his satisfaction, Seymour immediately tendered his hand to the princess, much to the mortification of Catherine ; after which the whole party, preceded by a troop of pages, henchmen, ushers, and marshals, repaired to the banqueting hall, and entered it amid lively flourishes from the trumpeters stationed near the door. At the banquet, the queen-dowager occupied the seat next the king, to which she had asserted her claim in the manner heretofore narrated, and of which no further attempt was made by the lord protector to deprive her. Sir Thomas Seymour, however, no longer stood behind her majesty's chair, but placed himself between the Princess Elizabeth and the Countess of Hertford. Nothing of moment occurred at the entertainment, which was on the same scale of grandeur and profusion as those preceding it, and which numbered as guests all the members of the council, and all the nobles and other persons of distinction then staying at the Tower ; but Catherine's jealousy was re-awakened by the ill-disguised attentions of Seymour to her youthful rival — attentions which, it was quite evident, were anything but disagreeable to the 176 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book I princess. The slighted queen longed for an opportunity of launching her anger against them, but no pretext for such an outbreak being afforded her, she was obliged to devour her rage in silence. Either Sir Thomas's prudence had deserted him, or the violence of his passion deprived his judgment of its due control, for at the close of the banquet he made no attempt to join Catherine, but again gave his hand to the princess, and without casting even a look at the neglected queen, or, it may be, not even thinking of her, followed his royal nephew and the Lady Jane Grey out of the hall. Catherine stood still as if stupefied by his conduct, and pressed her hand against her heart to keep down the force of her emotions. She had not entirely recovered when Lady Hertford ap- proached her. *' Methinks I can guess what is passing in your Highness' s breast," observed the countess. **What insolence is this?" cried Catherine, haughtily. "By what right do you pretend to penetrate the secrets of my breast ? ' ' '* Nay, it is your Highness' s unguarded manner that betrays the state of your feelings," rejoined Lady Hertford. '* Little penetration is requisite to discover that which must be appar- ent to all. My friendly intentions did not deserve • this rebuff. I came to warn you that you are deceived — basely deceived by him in whom you place your trust. I overheard enough at the banquet to convince me of this. I could tell more — ^but my lips are now sealed. ' ' "No! no! speak! — speak! I implore you, dear coun- tess," cried Catherine, in extreme agitation. "You sat next him, and must have heard what passed — in pity, speak ! ' ' "Compose yourself, I pray your Highness," replied Lady Hertford, secretly enjoying her distress, though feigning sympathy. "I feel for your situation, and will lend you help, if you are disposed to receive it. If you would effectu- Chap, XI'] SEYMOUR PROSPERS IN HIS SUIT 177 ally cure yourself of this unworthy passion — for so I must needs call it, though Sir Thomas is my husband's brother — which you have allowed to obtain dominion over you, go to-morrow at noon to Lady Herbert's chamber in the north gallery, and you shall hear enough to convince you of your lover's perfidy." ' ' Hath Elizabeth agreed to meet him there ? * ' demanded Catherine, becoming as white as ashes. " Your Highness will see," rejoined Lady Hertford. '* If you will leave the matter to me, I will contrive that you shall be an unseen and unsuspected witness of the interview. ' ' *' Do what you will, countess,'* said Catherine. ''Prove him forsworn, and I will stifle every feeling I have for him, even if I expire in the effort. ' ' ''Proof shall not be wanting, trust me," replied Lady Hertford. " But I do this in the hope of curing your High- ness, and from no other motive. ' ' " I know it, and I shall be forever beholden to you," re- joined the wounded queen, gratefully. " It will be needful to the full success of the plan that your Highness put constraint upon yourself during the rest of the evening," observed Lady Hertford. "Let not Sir Thomas or the Lady Elizabeth fancy they are suspected. ' ' " The task will be difficult," sighed Catherine, "but I will strive to perform it." " Doubt not I will be as good as my word," said Lady Hertford. "Your Highness shall be present at the rendez- vous, and shall have the power to surprise them, if you see fit. I now humbly take leave of your Grace. ' ' And she mentally ejaculated, as she quitted the queen, "At length I have avenged the affront ! No, not altogether — ^but to-morrow it shall be fully wiped out." 12 178 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER IBookl CHAPTER XII OF THE JNTERyjElV BETIVEEN SIR THOMAS SEYMOUR AND THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH; AND HOIV IT IVAS INTER- RUPTED Next morning, Sir Thomas Seymour did not quit his cham- ber in the Wardrobe Tower until close upon the hour ap- pointed for his interview with the Princess Elizabeth. Full of ardor, and confident of success, he then prepared to set forth. Ugo Harrington, who had assisted him to decorate his person, and just before his departure had handed him a pair of perfumed gloves, attended him to the door, and wished him ' ' buona riuscita. ' ' But it may be doubted whether the esquire's look was in entire accordance with the sentiment he expressed. There was more of malice in his smile than good will. As Seymour traversed the long and winding corridors of the palace in the direction of the apartments assigned to his sister, Lady Herbert, his stately figure and superb attire at- tracted the admiration of the various subordinate officers of the household thronging the galleries, and, with one accord, they agreed that he was the noblest personage about the court. *' Sir Thomas looks as brave as a king, ' ' observed a master- cook, who was dressed in damask satin, with a chain of gold about his neck. *'His highness the lord protector cannot compare with him," remarked an equally gaily-attired clerk of the kitchen. '*A11 the court ladies and gentlewomen, they say, are dying of love for him — and no wonder !" said a spruce clerk of the spicery. Chap. XII 2 AN INTERRUPTED WTERyiElV 179 '* You should see him in the tilt-yard, good sirs," quoth a fat sewer of the hall. ** Or in the manage, or the fencing school," observed a tall henchman. '^ No man can put a horse through his paces, or handle the rapier, like Sir Thomas Seymour. ' ' *' The king's highness ought to bestow the Lady Elizabeth's Grace in marriage upon him," observed a simpering page. ** There is none other so worthy of her." ''That may be, or it may not," said Xit, who was stand- ing among the group. *' When the curtain is raised, then what is behind it shall be disclosed," he added, mysteri- ously. *'What mean' St thou by that, little Solon?" cried the page. * ' Wouldst intimate that thou knowest more than we who are in constant attendance on his majesty? " * ' What I know, I know — and it shall never be confided to thee, on that thou mayst depend, ' ' rejoined Xit. ** This dandiprat's conceit is insufferable," cried the page. "Since he hath been appointed the king's dwarf, he gives himself the airs of a Spanish grandee. I vote we drive him from our company. ' ' ''Attempt it at thy peril, proud minion," retorted Xit, fiercely, laying his hand upon the hilt of the miniature weapon with which he had been provided. " I stir not, and, by our lady ! he who touches me shall rue his harshness." " Ha ! what is this ? ' ' cried Fowler, who chanced to be passing at the moment — "a brawl near the presence- chamber ! By the rood ! you must mend your manners, my masters, or some of ye will smart for it. Ah ! art thou there, my merry dapperling?" he added, noticing Xit. "Come with me. The king hath asked for thee. ' ' "Dost mark that, sirrah page?" cried Xit, scornfully, to his opponent. "If I be not fit company for thee, I am for thy sovereign lord and master. An thou wait'st till his majesty sends for thee, thou wilt tarry long enough. I i8o THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book 1 follow on the instant, worshipful Master Fowler," he added, strutting after the gentleman of the privy-chamber, amid the laughter and jeers of the pages and henchmen. Meanwhile, Sir Thomas Seymour had reached his destina- tion, and with a throbbing heart entered the waiting-chamber of Lady Herbert's apartments. Here he found an old porter, who, bowing respectfully, informed him that her ladyship, his sister, was without at the moment, but would return anon. **I will await her coming, Thopas," said Sir Thomas, proceeding towards the inner apartment. *'Nay, there are two ladies in that room. Sir Thomas," cried the porter. *'Are they young or old, Thopas?" inquired Seymour. ''As to the matter of that. Sir Thomas, I should judge one of them to be neither old nor young, but betwixt and between, as we may say, though she is still a comely dame. But the other I take to be young, though I cannot speak positively, seeing that her face was muffled up, but her gait and figure were those of a buxom damsel. ' ' *' I will in and resolve the point," said Seymour, smiling at the old man's description of the princess and her govern- ess. And lifting aside the arras, he entered the adjoining chamber. It was a large room, hung with costly tapestry and silken stuffs, the latter embellished with golden birds deftly wrought in needlework, while the arras was covered with roses, fleurs- de-lys, and lions. Over the high, carved chimney-piece was placed a life-like portrait of Henry VIII. , painted by Holbein, by whom the chimney-piece had likewise been designed. The roof was of oak, ornamented with grotesque figures. The chamber was lighted by a deep oriel window filled with stained glass, and in this recess, at a table covered with a Turkey carpet, sat two ladies, one of whom, it is almost needless to state, was the Princess Elizabeth, and the other Chap. XII '\ y4N INTERRUPTED INTER^IEIV i8i her governess, Mistress Ashley. Of the latter it may be observed, that she was amiable and accomplished, but fool- ishly indulgent to the caprices of her somewhat headstrong pupil, of whom she was dotingly fond, and who did just what she pleased with her. Mistress Ashley was seated at the bottom of the recess, and was so much occupied with her book that it is to be presumed she did not remark Sir Thomas Seymour's entrance. At all events, she neither looked up then, nor raised her eyes during the subsequent interview between the princess and her suitor. What use she made of her ears we pretend not to deter- mine. The lovers gave themselves little concern about her. On beholding Sir Thomas, Elizabeth arose and came for- ward to meet him. Seymour immediately threw himself at her feet. ** Rise, Sir Thomas," she cried. '* I cannot listen to you in this posture. ' ' *' Pardon me if I disobey you, sweet saint!" cried Sey- mour, passionately. **A suppliant at your shrine, I cannot rise till my prayers are heard. Forbid me not thus humbly to pay my vows to you — to tell you how deeply and devotedly I love you ! ' ' " Nay, in good sooth, I must be obeyed," rejoined Eliza- beth, in a tone not to be disputed. *'Have I become indifferent to you?" cried Seymour, rising, and assuming a despairing tone. * * Have I deluded myself with the notion that my love was requited ? * ' ' * If I loved you not. Sir Thomas, I should not be here, ' ' she rejoined. It was with difficulty that Seymour refrained from cast- ing himself again at her feet. ''Never were syllables more grateful to mortal ear than those you have uttered, sweet princess," he cried. *' Repeat them ! oh repeat them ! I can scarce believe I have heard aright." l82 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book I "You make me feel I have said too much already, Sir Thomas. And yet I desire to deal frankly with you. 'Tis my nature to be candid. ' ' **I know it! I know it ! Gladden me once more with those words, I beseech you ! My heart thirsts for them. ' ' *'Then, for the second time, I will own I love you. Sir Thomas. Will that suffice ? ' ' ' ' Oh ! how shall I thank you for the happiness you confer upon me ! What terms can I employ to express my admira- tion of your matchless beauty ! What vows can I utter to attest my devotion ! A life will not suffice to prove it — ^but my whole life shall be dedicated to you ! ' ' " You would have me then believe that I am the sole ob- ject of your affections. Sir Thomas ? ' ' she said, looking search- ingly at him. '*Can you for a moment doubt it, fair princess?" he rejoined. ** No ! my whole heart is given to you." *' Perchance my suspicions may be unfounded, so I will try to dismiss them. Report speaks of you as a general admirer of our sex. Sir Thomas. ' ' ' * Report speaks falsely, as it ordinarily does, fair princess, if it would imply that I admire a beautiful woman more than I should a glorious picture or a nobly-sculptured statue. A lovely woman delights my eye, but only as a fair object to gaze upon." '' Do you class the queen, my stepmother, among the fair women whom you merely gaze upon as you would at a picture or a statue. Sir Thomas ? ' ' demanded Elizabeth. '* Undoubtedly," he replied. " Her majesty's beauty ex- cites no stronger feeling in me. But I cannot look upon you unmoved, fair princess." Something like a sigh at this moment reached the ears of the pair, but they did not heed it, supposing the aspiration to proceed from Mistress Ashley. ** Mistrust me not, I implore you, fair princess !" continued Chap. XW^ AN INTERRUPTED INTERVIEIV 183 Seymour, anxious to dispel any doubts yet lingering in Eliza- beth's breast. ** Queen Catherine's gracious manner towards me has, perchance, called forth a fervent expression of grati- tude on my part, which may have been mistaken for a warmer feeling. I say not that it is so, but such may be the case." * * The qiieen persuades herself you love her — of that I am certain," said Elizabeth. ** Is she self-deceived, or deceived by you ? " '* Certes, she is not deceived by me. But I cannot answer for any self-delusion practised by her highness. ' ' ''Hist! what was that?" exclaimed Elizabeth. '' Me- thought I heard a sigh." *' Your governess must be much moved by the book she is reading," observed Seymour. ** 'Tis the second sigh she has heaved. But now that you have received every possible assurance of my truth and constancy, keep me no longer, I beseech you, in suspense. Am I to leave this chamber blest with the consciousness that I may call you mine, or must I hide my head in despair ? ' ' *' I would not have you wholly despair. Sir Thomas. But you must be content to wait. I am too young to think of nuptials yet. Some years must elapse ere I can take a hus- band. But I love you now, and do not think I shall change my mind. That is all I can say. ' ' ' * Princess ! " he exclaimed. '* I am a daughter of Henry the Eighth," continued Eliza- beth, proudly, *' and as such will do nothing unworthy of my great father, or of myself. Of all men I have ever beheld, you are the noblest -looking. Sir Thomas. To you, as I have already frankly confessed, my virgin heart hath been yielded. But to win my hand you must rise, for I will never wed with one inferior to myself in degree. Were you in your brother's place — were you lord protector of the realm — I would not say *nay' to your suit. But unless you can attain a position equally eminent, I must conquer the love I bear you. ' ' l84 T^/ZE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I *' If my ambition needed any spur, your words would fur- nish it, princess," cried Sir Thomas. "That I have dared to raise my eyes to your Highness is a proof that I aspire to greatness, and no obstacle, however seemingly insurmount- able, shall prevent me from obtaining it. I need scarcely tell you," he added, lowering his voice, "that I am the king your brother's favorite uncle, and that if I choose to exert the influence I have over my royal nephew, the dignity you have pointed out as needful to the claimant of your hand must be mine. As my consort, your Highness shall be second to none in the kingdom. ' ' ** But Edward may oppose our union," said Elizabeth. "His majesty will refuse me nothing — not even your hand," he rejoined. " But the lord protector — and the council? " "All obstacles must yield to determination." " If Edward remains under the lord protector's control, you will soon lose your influence over him, ' ' observed Eliza- beth. "Be that my care to prevent," he rejoined, significantly. " I am resolved to play for the highest stake, and to win it, or lose all. But to gain power without the prize that alone would render power valuable, would be to accomplish nothing. I am content to wait till such time as my position shall enable me to ask your hand in marriage. Meanwhile, as an incite- ment to present eflbrt, and as a security for the future, I pray you let us plight our troth together. * ' " I like not to bind myself so," hesitated Elizabeth. "Nay, I beseech you, refuse me not!" urged Seymour. After a brief internal struggle, during which her lover pleaded yet more ardently, Elizabeth yielded, saying, ' ' Be it as you will. What I have said I will abide by. Mistress Ashley shall witness our betrothal." With this, she gave her hand to Seymour, who pressed it to his lips, and they were proceeding together towards the ^U^abetl) anh Segmour Wistovevtli bg Catl)erine ''Nay, I beseech you, refuse me not?'' urged Seymour. After a brief internal struggle, during which her lover pleaded yet more ardently, Elizabeth yielded, saying : ''Be it as you will. What I have said I will abide by. Mistress Ashley shall witness our betrothal.'' " With this, she gave her hand to Seymour, who pressed it to his lips, * * -K- when a piece of arras on the right of the chamber was suddenly drawn aside, and Queen Catherine stood before them. -d^ky«<^i Chap. XIII'\ LADY HERTFORD BALKED 185 recess in which the governess was still seated, when a piece of arras on the right of the chamber was suddenly drawn aside, and Queen Catherine stood before them. CHAPTER XIII HOW THE COUNTESS OF HERTFORD IV AS BALKED OF HER REVENGE; AND IN IVHAT MANNER XIT SOUGHT TO DIVERT THE KING The injured queen was pale as death. But her eyes flashed lightnings upon the startled pair, and she looked as if she would willingly annihilate them. Catherine indeed was very terrible at this moment, and it required no little courage to meet her glances. This courage Elizabeth possessed in an eminent degree, and though somewhat alarmed on the infuri- ated queen's first appearance, she almost instantly recovered herself, and eyed Catherine with a glance almost as ireful and vindictive as her own. Sir Thomas Seymour's position was very different, and in- finitely more embarrassing. By this unexpected occurrence he had every reason to fear he should lose both Elizabeth and the queen. By the latter his perfidy had evidently been de- tected — immediate exposure to the princess in all probability awaited him. But he was not easily daunted, and though the situation was in the highest degree perplexing, almost des- perate, he did not for a moment lose his presence of mind. ** Hold !" cried Catherine, extending her hand menacingly towards them, as they recoiled on beholding her. ' ' No troth- plight can take place between you. I forbid it in the name of the council. Such a contract would be in direct violation of your august father's will, Elizabeth ; and by the reverence you owe his memory, I charge you to forbear. ' ' 1 86 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER IBook 1 **You have much reverence for the king my father's memory, I must needs own, madam," rejoined the princess, scornfully. ** I deserve the taunt, but it comes with an ill grace from your lips," said Catherine. ' ' Why with an ill grace from mine ? ' ' cried Elizabeth. " Methinks no one hath greater right than myself to reproach King Henry's widow, who, forgetful alike of decency and duty, seeks to dishonor his memory — so far as dishonor can attach to a memory so glorious — ^by a marriage with another ere yet her royal husband's body is laid in the tomb." *' Princess !" interposed Seymour, *' you mistake. " ''What makes her majesty here, if she be not brought by jealousy?" cried Elizabeth. '* No, I do not mistake. When her grace and I met yesterday, I felt I had a rival. Let her deny it if she can. ' ' '*I shall not attempt to deny it,'* replied Catherine, with dignity. *' I have been deeply, basely deceived, and bitterly do I grieve that I listened to the voice of the tempter. But my present sufferings may serve to expiate my error, great though it be. May you, Elizabeth, never feel the humiliation, the self-reproach, the anguish I now experience ! I will not attempt to palliate my conduct, but I may say that throughout this kingdom more miserable wife did not, and could not, exist than the unfortunate Catherine Parr, the envied consort of your father. King Henry. Evil was the hour that, dazzled by the splendor of a crown, and confident in my own firmness of principle, I consented to become his spouse ! Since that fatal moment I have known little peace. Anxiously as I studied my fickle husband's lightest humors, I found it scarcely possible to please him, and to anger him would have insured my destruction. Sur- rounded by enemies, I was constantly exposed to secret machinations, and with difficulty escaped them, because the king ever lent ready credence to charges brought against me. Chap. XIII 2 LADY HERTFORD BALKED 187 Mine was a wretched existence — so wretched that, though clothed with the semblance of power, I would gladly have exchanged lots with the meanest of my subjects. No love could outlast such usage. Terror trampled out the embers of expiring affection. I never approached my terrible husband but with constraint and dread, uncertain whether I might not quit him for the scaffold. What wonder, after well-nigh four years of such misery, when the days of my suffering drew' towards a close, I should not be wholly insensible to the attentions of one who seemed to pity me, and feigned to adore me? What wonder, when death at last released me from tyranny almost insupportable, I should have forgotten that I was the widow of a great king, but a cruel husband, and ere he, who had more than once menaced me with death, and had even ordered the warrant for my execution, was laid in the grave, should have half-promised my hand to him who had sworn to efface my previous sufferings by a life of devo- tion ? What wonder I should be beguiled by Sir Thomas Seymour, who hath the glozing tongue of the serpent, and who is as fair-spoken and specious as he is perfidious? No epithet is strong enough to express the scorn I hold him in. My conduct may not be wholly free from censure, and some, as you have done, Elizabeth, may call it indecorous. But what respect do I owe to the memory of one who could treat me as your royal father treated me ? Levity was never laid to my charge, and I was ever faithful and obedient and conformable to the king in all things. But all ties between us are now sundered. I owe him nothing — not even regret. I seek not to compare myself with the unhappy queens who have gone before me, but it ill becomes the daughter of Anne Boleyn to reproach Catherine Parr. ' ' '*I pray your Majesty to pardon me for adding to your affliction," said Elizabeth, **but I have been as basely de- ceived as yourself," she added, with a disdainful glance at Seymour. 1 88 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I *' Before your Highness condemns me, at least hear what I have to urge in my defence, ' ' implored Sir Thomas, humbly. But Elizabeth did not even bestow a look upon him. Turning towards Catherine, she said, " Your Majesty is right in your judgment of this man. He is subtle and perfidious as the serpent, but he is baser than that reptile. He has deceived us both. Let us make common cause against him, and crush him !" *' You are vindictive, fair princess,'* cried Seymour, **but I would counsel both you and her Majesty to think twice ere you make any such attempt. ' * ''Ah! now we see him in his true character," exclaimed Elizabeth. '* The serpent hath found its sting." ''Enough! we have unmasked him," rejoined Catherine. "It shall be my business to forget him," she added, with a sigh. "Her Majesty relents," muttered Seymour, watching her narrowly. "All is not yet lost in that quarter. Were she alone, I should not despair of retrieving my position at once." For a moment it seemed as if this chance would be given him. Calling to her governess, who had listened to the scene in affright, not knowing how it might terminate, Eliza- beth prepared to depart, and looked at the queen -dowager, as if expecting she would accompany her. Catherine, how- ever, remained irresolute, and Seymour made sure of recover- ing the ground he had lost. At this juncture a page entered the room, and announced "The king!" On this, the princess and her governess stood still. " What brings the king here? " said Catherine. " Ah ! I understand. Is his Grace unattended?" she added to the page. "The Countess of Hertford is with him, an please your Majesty, ' ' replied the page. Chap. XIII] LADY HERTFORD BALKED 189 ** *Tis as I suspected," thought Catherine ; and, advancing towards the princess, she whispered, ** Be cautious Mischief enough has been done already by the countess. She must not triumph over us. ' * ''Fear me not," rejoined Elizabeth, in the same tone. ** No words of mine shall betray your Majesty." While this was passing, a second page entered, and called out as the first had done, ''The king!" Then followed a gentleman usher, bearing a wand, who made a similar an- nouncement. After which, the tapestry covering the door- way was drawn aside, and Edward, accompanied by the Countess of Hertford, stepped into the room. Behind the young monarch came Fowler and Xit. On entering the chamber Lady Hertford's first glance was directed towards Catherine, and she was surprised and morti- fied to see her exhibit so much calmness of manner and look. By a great effort the queen had succeeded in recovering her composure. Neither did Elizabeth betray any symptoms of agitation. As to Sir Thomas Seymour, he appeared so per- fectly easy and unconcerned, that no one could imagine he had been the principal actor in such a scene as had just oc- curred. The only person who could not entirely shake off her perturbation was Mistress Ashley. But of her. Lady Hertford took little heed. Having received the obeisances of all the party whom he found in the room, Edward turned to Lady Hertford, and said, "When you begged me to come hither, good aunt, you promised me an agreeable surprise, and some diversion. In what does the surprise consist ? ' ' ' ' My good sister would appear to be surprised herself, to judge from her looks," observed Sir Thomas Seymour, " though, it may be, not so agreeably as she expected. In any case, I am indebted to her for bringing your Majesty here, though I fear it will be trouble taken for little gain." " Perhaps my presence was the agreeable surprise intended 190 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book I for your Majesty," observed the queen -dowager. ** If so, I shall feel highly flattered. ' ' '*0r mine," added Elizabeth, ** though Lady Hertford could scarce know I was here. ' ' '* There your Highness is mistaken," rejoined the countess. *' I was fully aware you were here. Perhaps Sir Thomas will account for being here likewise ? ' ' " Nothing more easy, good sister," replied Seymour. ** I came hither to see my sister Herbert, and learning she had gone to another part of the palace, I should have departed instantly, had I not found the Lady Elizabeth's Grace and Mistress Ashley in possession of the room, and I remained in converse with them for a few minutes, when her majesty the queen-dowager arrived, and detained me until now." '*A likely story !" exclaimed Lady Hertford. ** I can give another version of it. " '* Indeed ! then pray do so, good aunt !" cried Edward. But the countess's reply was checked by a very menacing glance fixed upon her by Seymour. * * I have bethought me, and must decline to say more on the subject," replied Lady Hertford. *' Nay, good aunt, that will not satisfy us," cried Edward. *' You impugn Sir Thomas's veracity, and yet are unable, or unwilling, to prove him wrong." *' Press not my sister further, sire," said Seymour. '* See you not she meditated some jest at my expense, which the plain statement I have given has robbed of its point ? ' ' And he again looked sternly at Lady Hertford. * 'Ah ! is it so, dear aunt ? ' ' said Edward, laughing. ** Confess you have failed." "That cannot be denied, sire," replied the countess. *' Ill-success should ever attend the mischief-maker," said Catherine. * ' Nay, your Majesty is too severe, ' ' rejoined Edward. ' * Our good aunt had no mischievous design in what she proposed. ' * Chap. XIII'] LADY HERTFORD BALKED 191 *' So your Grace thinks, and it is well you should continue to think so," returned the queen. Any rejoinder by the countess to the queen -dowager's im- prudent sarcasm was prevented by Sir Thomas Seymour, who kept his eye steadily fixed on his sister-in-law. At this juncture Xit stepped forward, and, with an obei- sance, said, ** Your Majesty came here to be surprised and diverted. 'Twere a pity you should be disappointed. Your amiable nature also delights in reconciling differences where any unfortunately exist. Will it please you to lay your com- mands upon the Countess of Hertford to give her hand to her grace the queen-dowager ? ' ' '*Sire!" exclaimed the countess, **you will not suffer this?" ** Nay, let it be so, good aunt," interrupted the king. ** The knave has some merry design which we would not spoil by a refusal." Thus enjoined, Lady Hertford very reluctantly advanced towards the queen. But Catherine drew herself up proudly and coldly, and repelled her by a look. ** So ! — so !" cried Xit, with a comical look at the king. *'Peradventure, we shall succeed better in the next attempt. Will your Majesty enjoin Sir Thomas Seymour to take the hand of the Lady Elizabeth's Grace ? ' ' '* To what purpose ? " demanded Edward. *' You will see, sire," replied the dwarf '^ Dar'st thou jest with me, thou saucy knave ? " exclaimed the princess, giving him a sound box on the ears. *' Pity so soft a hand should strike so shrewdly," observed Xit, rubbing his cheek. ''But I have not yet done, sire. For the last essay, I pray that Sir Thomas may be directed to give his hand to her Majesty the queen-dowager." **The command will be unavailing," cried Catherine. * ' I will not suffer him to approach me. ' ' ' ' The secret is out, ' ' exclaimed Xit, triumphantly. " There 192 THE COmT/tBLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I has been a quarrel. This, then, was the pleasant surprise designed for your Majesty." ** On my faith, I believe the cunning varlet is right," said Edward. **Thou givest thyself strange license, sirrah," said Sey- mour to the dwarf; *'but if thou takest any more such liberties with me, thine ears shall pay for thine imperti- nence." '*One of them has paid for it already," rejoined Xit, taking refuge behind the youthful monarch. ** Mine ears are the king's, and if your lordship. deprives me of them you will do his majesty a wrong. Saving your presence, sire, you have been brought here on a fool's errand, and it is for your faithful dwarf to bring you off with credit — as he hath done." ** Wisdom sometimes proceeds from the lips of fools," observed Edward ; * * and we have learnt more from thy folly than we might have done from our discernment. That some misunderstanding exists is evident — whence originating we care not to inquire — but it must be set to rights. Come, good aunt," to Lady Hertford, '*you shall go back with us. As to you, gentle uncle," he added, with a gracious smile, to Sir Thomas, ** since neither the queen our mother, nor the princess our sister, seems to desire your company, we will relieve them of it, and will pray you to attend us in an inspection of our armory. ' * Saluting the queen-dowager and Elizabeth, he quitted the chamber with Lady Hertford and Sir Thomas ; the pages and henchmen, with Xit and Fowler, following him. Sir Thomas Seymour remained for some time in attendance upon his royal nephew, and though by no means in a lively mood, he contrived to disguise his feelings so effectually, and conversed with such apparent gaiety and animation, that it was quite impossible to suspect he had any secret cause of uneasiness. Chap. Xlll^ LADY HERTFORD BALKED 193 Accompanied by his uncle, the young king visited the Tower armory and examined the formidable store of military engines at that time collected within it — ^bombards, culverins, sakers, and falconets, with portable fire-arms, as harquebuses, demi-haques, and dags. Edward next turned his attention to the armor, noting the breastplates of the globose form then in use, with the cuisses, casques, and gauntlets. Swords of all shapes and sizes, from the huge two-handed blade to the beautiful damascened rapier, next underwent a careful inspection, with other offensive weapons then in use, as lances, battle-axes, partisans, and martels. While pointing out such of these implements as were most worthy of the young king's notice, Seymour endeavored to profit by the occasion to inflame his breast with a love of military renown, and to a certain extent succeeded. Edward's cheek glowed and his eye flashed as he listened to his uncle's soldier -like details of certain incidents in the late war with France. *' In time, I doubt not your Majesty will lead your armies in person," observed Seymour, in conclusion, "and then our foes may find that England possesses another Edward, valiant as the third of that name, or as the Black Prince, his warrior son." ''Hereafter it may be so," returned the king, with a gracious smile. " But, meanwhile, we must intrust the com- mand of our armies to those better able to lead them than ourself. ' ' *'Ah ! here is a weapon that merits your Majesty's atten- tion," exclaimed Seymour, taking down a large two-handed sword. ''With this very blade your august sire often fought at the barriers with the Duke of Sufl'olk, who alone was his match. Your Highness will scarce wield it. ' * * ' Let me try, ' ' cried Edward, taking the mighty weapon, and vainly endeavoring to make a sweep with it. * ' Nay, in good sooth it is above my strength, ' ' he added, resigning the weapon to his uncle. 13 194 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I * * I will teach your Majesty so to handle it that it shall de- fend you against ten ordinary blades," cried Sir Thomas. *'As thus; " and stepping backwards to a sufficient distance, he whirled round the immense blade with extraordinary quick- ness — delivering a thrust with it and instantly afterwards a downright blow. *'An enemy would have fallen for each of those blows," he continued, laughing. *'But the sword may be held with the left hand, and a thrust delivered in this manner," accompanying the words with a suitable action. ' ' But there is danger that your adversary may seize the blade, and pluck it from you. ' ' ** So I should judge," replied Edward. *' Dost think thou couldst lift that sword ? " he added to Xit, who was regarding Sir Thomas Seymour's performance with admiration. " I nothing doubt my ability to wield it, sire j ay, and to deliver a thrust with it for the matter of that, ' ' replied the dwarf, confidently. *'l have borne Og's partisan, which is a larger weapon. * ' '* Give it him, gentle uncle," said the king. '* 'Tis not a toy for his hands," cried Sir Thomas, flinging down the mighty sword with a clatter that made Xit skip backwards in affright. But he presently returned, and grasp- ing the pommel with both hands, strove, but ineffectually, to describe a circle with the weapon. After repeated efforts, which put his own head in some danger, and caused the king much merriment, Xit was obliged to desist, and confess that the sword was too heavy for him. Sir Thomas next explained to the king the various wards, thrusts, and blows that could be practised with bill, partisan, and halberd, illustrating his remarks with the weapons in question, which he handled with the greatest dexterity. The lesson over, Edward returned to the palace, and sending for Sir John Cheke and Doctor Cox, applied himself diligently to his studies, while Seymour, glad to be released^ proceeded to the Wardrobe Tower. Chap.XIk'} SEYMOUR'S CONFIDANT 195 CHAPTER XIV SHOWING HOW UGO HARRINGTON WAS ADMITTED INTO SIR THOMAS SEYMOUR'S CONFIDENCE On entering his own chamber, Sir Thomas at once threw off the mask, and his esquire, perceiving from the expression of his countenance that something had gone wrong, forbore to address him, but watched him with a strange sort of smile as he fiung himself angrily on a couch. After awhile, Seymour broke the silence. ' * Thou canst partly guess what has happened, Ugo, ' * he said. " But it is worse than even thy imagination can con- ceive. I have lost them both. ' ' * ' Diavolo ! both ! In what way, monsignore ? ' ' ** The last person on earth I should have desired or looked for was a secret witness of my interview with the princess ; and at the very moment I made sure of the prize, it was snatched from my grasp. When I tell thee that Queen Cath- erine stepped from behind the arras, where she had lain per- due, listening to all my love speeches to the princess, and registering all my vows, thou wilt conceive the scene that fol- lowed. Her majesty looked as if she could have poniarded me, as thy amiable Florentines sometimes do their faithless lovers. But this was nothing to the reproaches I had to endure on both sides. They are ringing in my ears even now. ' ' ''The situation must have been the reverse of pleasant. And you failed in reconciling yourself with either of the fair ones, eh, monsignore?" " Failed utterly, Ugo. The princess is certainly lost ; and I fear the queen also. ' ' 196 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I '* Per dio ! that is unlucky. You will remember I had mis- givings when your lordship embarked on this adventure. ' * ''Would I had followed thy counsel, Ugo, and remained constant to Catherine. But I was enslaved by the charms of the bewitching Elizabeth, whom even now that she scorns me I adore." " You say she is lost ? ' ' *'Alas ! yes, Ugo — irrecoverably lost." *' In that case, think of her no more, but turn your thoughts wholly on the queen — that is, if you have any hope of retrieving your position with her majesty." *' I do not entirely despair of a reconciliation, Ugo. But it will be difficult to effect." ** Via, via, monsignore. Every great object is difficult of attainment. You have often told me your ruling passion is ambition. But you appear to have misjudged yourself. ' ' " I told thee the truth," cried Seymour, springing from the couch. * 'Ambition is my ruling passion, and all others must bow to it. Henceforth, I shall think only of my advance- ment. Hark thee, Ugo, thou knowest something of my pro- jects, but thou shalt know more, for I can trust thee. ' * The esquire bowed and smiled. " I owe the lord protector little brotherly love, for he has ever shown himself my enemy. For years he has striven to keep me down, but unsuccessfully, for I have risen in spite of him. Had my sister. Queen Jane, lived, I should have mounted rapidly, for she preferred me to her elder brother; but when I lost her, I lost much of Henry's favor. And why? — because my brother Edward feared I should supplant him. Thus, when Henry would have ennobled me and enriched me, as he had ennobled and en- riched Edward, I was passed by as of no account. Can I forget such treatment ? Never ! ' ' " I marvel not at your resentment, monsignore." " Neither wilt thou marvel at the reprisals I mean to take for the wrong I have endured. Hertford's jealousy pursued Chap. Xiyl SEYMOUR'S CONFIDANT 197 me to the last with the king. He could not prevent certain marks of favor being bestowed upon me, nor altogether check the liking Henry had for me, and which manifested itself in various ways, but he so misrepresented me, that I never ob- tained the king's confidence — neither would his majesty con- fer any important trust upon me. Many posts for which I was specially fitted became vacant while Hertford was at the head of affairs, but his malignant influence was ever at work with the king, and I was overlooked. By my brother's arts, and his alone, I was excluded from the list of Henry's execu- tors, and degraded to the lower council, though my rightful place was with the upper. But this last injustice would have been redressed had Henry lived a short space longer. Sir John Gage and myself were kept from the dying king's pres- ence till he could no longer cause his behests to be obeyed. Something strange there was in the signing of the will, Ugo, that inclines me to suspect all was not right ; and Sir John is of my opinion, though he keeps a close tongue about the mat- ter. In my belief the king was dead, or dying, when the will was stamped — for stamped it was, not signed. ' ' '*If such were the case, monsignore, the perpetrators of the fraud shall scarce escape the punishment due to their offence. ' ' * * Neither in this world nor the next shall they escape it, ' ' rejoined Seymour, sternly. ** What Henry's intentions were I know from Sir John Gage — how they were frustrated is best known to my brother. But not only has Hertford made me no reparation for the great wrong done me by him, but his jealousy has latterly increased to positive hate. My influence, he feels, is greater with our royal nephew than his own. Therefore he fears me, and would remove me altogether if he could. Luckily, that is not in his power. I am too strong for him now," he added, with a bitter smile, *'and he will find it difficult to crush me, or even keep me down much longer. He thinks to appease me by making me Baron Sey- 198 THE CONST/iBLE OF THE TOPVER [Book I mour of Sudley, and High Admiral of England. That is something, and I shall refuse neither the title nor the post. But they will not content me. Hertford would have all power and greatness concenter in himself, and leave little save the skirts to me. He hath made himself lord protector and governor of the king's person — the latter office should be mine — would be mine now, if the king had his way — shall be mine hereafter ! * ' ' ' May your expectations be fulfilled, monsignore ! ' * ex- claimed Ugo. **Thou wilt see," rejoined Seymour, with a significant smile. **But to make an end of my grievances. Not only has Hertford taken the two most important offices in the state to himself, but he means to add to them the dignities of lord high treasurer and earl marshal, forfeited by the Duke of Norfolk's attainder, with the style and title of Duke of Somerset." '* His highness takes good care of himself, it must be owned, ' ' observed Ugo. *'Let him look well to his seat if he would keep it," rejoined Seymour, *' for by my father's head, I will not rest till I supplant him and instal myself in his place. What he fears will come to pass. By surrendering to me half the spoil, he might have kept me quiet, but now I will be satisfied only with the whole. I will be duke, protector, governor, lord high treasurer, earl marshal — all. And he shall be — less than I am now.'* *'His highness will richly have deserved his fate should it so befall him." *'The condition of parties is favorable to my project," pursued Seymour. * ' Beneath the crust of the volcano lurks a fire ready to burst forth on the slightest disturbance of the surface. The ancient nobility hate my brother, and un- willingly submit to him ; while, on the contrary, they are friendly to me. With the Romanists I stand far better than Chap. XI y} SEYMOUR'S CONFIDANT 199 he does, because, though I profess the New Faith, I am tolerant of the Old, and care not to pursue the Reformation further. My plan will be that of the late king, who showed his sagacity in the course he pursued, namely, to make one sect balance the other, and give neither the preponderance. By allying himself so closely with the Reformers, Hertford will incur the bitter hostility of the Papists, and on this I count. My faction will soon be stronger than his. And he must walk warily if I cannot catch him tripping. Then let him look to himself. ' ' *' Your lordship's influence with the king is the best guar antee for the success of your project," remarked Ugo. *' If the council could likewise be won, the rest were easy. ' ' ** I have already sounded several of them, but I must pro- ceed cautiously, lest I awaken my brother's suspicions. The lord chancellor is discontented ; and the Earl of Arundel, Lord St. John, the Bishop of Durham, and Sir Anthony Brown, are sure to become alienated when further attempts are made by Cranmer to deepen the quarrel with the See of Rome. Disunion must ensue, and at that critical juncture I shall step in at the head of a powerful party, and grasp the reins of government. In anticipation of such an event, it shall be my business to secure the king's person. I do not desire to stir up rebellion, but rather than miss my mark I will do so ; and if a revolt occurs, it shall not want a leader. ' ' ''Your lordship is a conspirator on a grand scale — a second Catiline!" observed Ugo, smiling in his singular way. ''This is a time when plots must needs be rife, for all is disjointed and unsettled," observed Seymour. "A king on the throne who is king only by name — ministers who would usurp supreme authority — conflicting parties both in Church and State — an old nobility detesting those recently created — a new nobility rapacious and insatiable ~a dis- 200 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I contented, oppressed, and overtaxed people, — out of these troubled elements, plots and conspiracies must arise — and some besides my own I can already see are hatching. ' ' *' Da vero, monsignore? " exclaimed Ugo, with an inquir- ing look. *'Ay, indeed," rejoined Seymour. ** My brother is not firm enough to hold his place against the difficulties and dangers certain to beset him, even if he had nothing to fear from me," observed Seymour. *'Lord Lisle feigns to be his friend, but I suspect he nourishes secret designs against him." '* Methought Lord Lisle was a partisan of your lordship," remarked Ugo, with a certain disquietude. ** I will not trust him further till I feel more sure of him. What is thy opinion of Lisle, Ugo? Speak out. Thou know' St him." *'Not enough to judge him correctly, monsignore," re- plied the esquire. ** But I am sure he could help you greatly if he would. ' ' **Not a doubt of it," replied Seymour. ** Lisle is pre- cisely the man for my purpose ; he is daring, ambitious, and troubled with few scruples. See what thou canst do with him, Ugo, but do not commit me." ''Rest easy, monsignore." "Be liberal in thy offers; hold out any temptation thou pleasest. ' ' "All shall be done as you desire. But hark ! there is some one in the waiting-chamber." " 'Tis Dorset! I know his voice," cried Seymour. "What brings him here? Pray Heaven he has not heard of my quarrel with the queen !" " That is not likely," replied the esquire. " Her majesty will keep her own counsel. But here comes his lordship. Shall I retire, monsignore ? * ' "Ay, but remain within call." Chap. A-ZK] SEYMOUR'S CONFIDANT 201 As Ugo withdrew, the marquis was ushered in by a page, and very heartily welcomed by Sir Thomas. ' ' I have come to inquire after your health, good Sir Thomas," observed Dorset. **Methinks you look wondrous well." * ' Never better, my dear marquis — never better. How fares my lady marchioness, and your daughter, the fair Lady Jane ? Have you reflected on my proposition ? ' ' "Ahem! — yes," hesitated the other. "I almost fear I shall be obliged to decline it. ' ' ** He has heard of the quarrel," thought Seymour. " Your lordship is the best judge of your own affairs," he said, in an indifferent tone. *' Without me the union we spoke of will not take place. You are aware, I suppose, that the lord pro- tector intends to affiance the king to the infant Queen of Scots, who promises to be of extraordinary beauty. * ' **Ay, but the Scots refuse the treaty of marriage proposed by the late king for their infant queen," replied Dorset. ** If Henry the Eighth failed, the lord protector is not likely to prove successful. ' ' **The acceptance of the treaty may be enforced by the sword — a mode of settlement which the lord protector will assuredly try, if he be not prevented. ' ' **But other powers will not permit the alliance. King Francis is opposed to it. * ' *' His Most Christian Majesty will not long outlast his royal brother, Henry, if what I hear of him from his ambassador be true. The opposition of France will be useless. Rather than suffer the horrors of war, the Scots will consent to the treaty. My royal nephew's affiancement with the youthful Queen Mary, I repeat, will take place, if it be not pre- vented." " But who shall prevent it ? " cried the marquis. Seymour smiled, as who should say, ** I can prevent it, if I choose. ' ' But he did not give utterance to the words. 202 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Booh I ** I fear you somewhat overrate your power, Sir Thomas.'* ** Not a whit, my dear marquis. I promise nothing that I will not perform. ' ' Approaching close to Dorset, he said in his ear, '* I undertake to marry your daughter, the Lady Jane, to my royal nephew. But she must be committed to my charge." ** But you must be wedded before you can take charge of her — well wedded, Sir Thomas. An exalted personage like her majesty, the queen -dowager, for instance, would be pre- cisely the guardian I should desire for my daughter. ' ' '* I was certain he had heard of the quarrel," thought Sey- mour. ''Well, marquis," he said, ** suppose the Lady Jane Grey should be intrusted to her majesty? " ''Ah ! then, indeed — but no ! that cannot be." "Why not? I see what has happened. My mischief- making sister-in-law, Lady Hertford, has informed the mar- chioness, that there has been a trifling misunderstanding be- tween the queen and myself. ' ' " Not a trifling misunderstanding, as I hear — for I will con- fess that a hint of the matter has been given me — but a violent quarrel, caused by her highness' s jealousy of the princess. Ah ! Sir Thomas — what it is to be the handsomest man at court ! But you have thrown away a great chance of ag- grandizement. ' * " Nonsense ! I have thrown away no chance, as you will find, my dear marquis. My amiable sister-in-law has made the most of the quarrel, which was of her own contrivance, and designed not to annoy me, but the queen, whose affronts to her at the banquet Lady Hertford seeks to avenge. The disagree- ment between myself and her majesty is of no moment — a mere lover's quarrel — and will be speedily set right." " Right glad am I to hear you say so. Sir Thomas — right glad for your own sake. ' ' "And for yours as well, my dear marquis. If I marry not the queen, your daughter marries not the king. ' ' Chap. Xiy'\ SEYMOUR'S CONFIDAl^T 203 *' That is coming to the point, Sir Thomas." ** I never go roundabout when a straight course will serve my turn. And now, marquis, am I to have the disposal of the Lady Jane's hand? " *'Ah, marry. Sir Thomas, and I shall be greatly beholden to you." ' ' Is there aught more I can do to content your lordship ? ' ' '' I do not like to trouble you too much, Sir Thomas, but I happen at this moment to have occasion for a few hundred pounds — say five hundred — and if you can, without inconve- nience, lend me the amount, I shall be infinitely indebted to you. Any security you may require ' * ** No security is needed, marquis. Your word will suffice. I am enchanted to be able to oblige you — not now, but at all times. What ho, Ugo ! " he cried ; adding, as the esquire, who was within earshot, promptly answered the summons, ' * Here is the key of my coffer. Count out five hundred pounds in gold, and let that sum be conveyed to the Marquis of Dorset's apartments." Ugo took the small gold key from his patron, bowed, and retired. *' If I had asked him for double the amount he would have given it," muttered Dorset. **But I will have the rest at some other time. " '^ You are very confident in your esquire's honesty. Sir Thomas ? " he added, aloud. **With good reason, my lord. I have proved it." At this moment a page entered, and announced: '*The king!" Immediately afterwards Edward was ceremoniously ushered into the chamber by Fowler. The rest of the young monarch's attendants, amongst whom was Xit, remained in the ante-chamber. ** Having finished my studies, gentle uncle," he cried, '* I am come to have an, hour's recreation with you. Shall we walk forth upon the ramparts ? " Sir Thomas bowed assent. ** I would have had my sister Elizabeth's company, but she is 204 THE COr^STABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I out of sorts, and prayed to be excused. Ah ! gentle uncle, you are to blame there. You have done something to offend her. But I must have you friends again. I cannot let two persons I love so much remain at variance." '* Nay, your Majesty, there is no difference between us." **I am sure there is, and between the queen, our mother, also — ^but we will set it right. You also shall bear us company in our walk, if you will, my Lord of Dorset. How doth our fair cousin, the Lady Jane ? ' * * ' My daughter is well — quite well, my gracious liege, ' ' re- plied Dorset. ^'Like your Majesty, she pursues her studies even in the Tower. I left her but now reading the Phaedo of Plato." '* Then we will not disturb her, for she cannot be better employed. Otherwise, we should have been glad to converse with her during our walk. ' ' *'Nay, I am sure the Lady Jane would prefer your Maj- esty's society to that of the greatest heathen philosopher — even than that of the divine Plato, ' ' observed Seymour. *'I know not that," replied Edward, smiling. *'Our cousin Jane loves books better than society. Ere long, you will have good reason to be proud of your daughter's erudi- tion, my Lord Marquis." * ' I will say for the Lady Jane Grey what her father could not say for her," interposed Seymour, *' that she is pious as wise, and gentle as pious. Her virtues fit her for a throne. ' ' ** You speak enthusiastically, gentle uncle," said Edward. " Yet you go not beyond the truth. Such is my own opinion of my cousin. But she must not study overmuch. A little ex- ercise will do her good. How say you, my Lord of Dor- set?" "I will bring her to your Majesty forthwith," replied the marquis. " 'Twill delight her to obey you." ** You will find us on the northern ramparts, ' ' said Edward, as Dorset, with a profound obeisance, withdrew. ** You are Chap. A-K] XIT ON THE IVOODEN HORSE 205 right, gentle uncle," he observed, as soon as they were alone. '*My cousin Jane would adorn a throne. I would I might wed such another. * ' **Why not wed the Lady Jane herself, my liege?" de- manded Seymour. *^ My uncle, the lord protector, designs to affiance me to the infant Queen of Scots. ' ' " But if your Majesty prefers the Lady Jane ? " *' I shall have no choice," sighed Edward. ** Consult me before you assent to any betrothal, sire." "I will," replied Edward, with a smile, as he went forth with his uncle. CHAPTER XV OF XITS PERILOUS FLIGHT ACROSS THE TOIVER MOAT ON PACOLETS HORSE Accompanied by Seymour, and followed by Fowler and Xit, with a train of pages and henchmen, Edward ascended to the outer ballium wall by a flight of stone steps opposite the Broad Arrow Tower, and proceeded slowly towards the large circular bastion, known as the Brass Mount, situated on the northeastern extremity of the ramparts. Here he halted, and tried to keep up a conversation with his uncle, but it was evident, from his heedless manner, that his thoughts were absent. At length Jane appeared upon the ramparts with her father, and uttering an exclamation of delight, the young king hurried off to meet her. When within a few paces of his fair cousin, however, he stopped, as if struck by the indecorum of the proceeding, his cheeks all aflame, yet not burning a whit more brightly than those of the Lady Jane, who stopped as he stopped^ and made him a lowly obeisance. 2o6 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book I The bashfulness with which Edward had been suddenly- afflicted continued until the arrival of Sir Thomas Seymour, whose light laughter and playful remarks soon dissipated it, and he became voluble enough. By his desire the Lady Jane walked on with him, and he at once engaged her in dis- course, not upon light and trivial themes, but on grave subjects such as he had discussed with her in the privy-garden. It was good to see them thus occupied, but it would have been better to have listened to their talk. Two such children have rarely come together. Two beings more perfectly adapted to each other could not be found, and yet — But we will not peer into futurity. The Marquis of Dorset and Sir Thomas Seymour followed at a respectful distance, both enchanted at what was taking place. The latter felt con- fident of the realization of his ambitious designs ; the former regarded his daughter as already queen. Nearly an hour passed in this way — the progress of time being unnoted by the young king and his fair companion — when Edward, who had been hitherto almost unobservant of aught save his cousin, remarked that something unusual was taking place on the opposite side of the Tower moat. A large circle had been formed, in the midst of which a mounte- bank was performing some feats, which seemed, from the shouts and applause they elicited, to astonish and delight the beholders. What the feats were the king could not make out. Soon afterwards the crowd began to disperse, and the mounte- bank was seen carrying off a wooden horse, with which no doubt he had been diverting the spectators. *'What tricks hath the fellow been playing with that wooden horse ? ' ' inquired the king, of Seymour. ''Nay, my liege, it passeth my power to satisfy you," answered Sir Thomas. *'An please your Majesty, I can give you the information you seek," said Xit, stepping forward. *' 'Tis Pacolet, the French saltinbanco, and his Enchanted Steed. To ordinary Chc^. XV^ XIT ON THE IVOODEN HORSE 207 observation the horse seems made of wood ; but Pacolet declares it is endowed with magic power, and will fly with its rider through the air. I have never seen the feat done, so I dare not vouch for the truth of the statement. ' ' **Why, thou simple knave, 'tis an old tale thou art re- citing," observed the Lady Jane. *' Pacolet' s enchanted horse is described in the French romance of Valentine and Orson." ''I know not how that may be, most gracious lady, for I am not well read in French romance," replied Xit, ''but yonder fellow is Pacolet, and that is his horse, and a wonder- ful little horse it is. Your Majesty may smile, but I suspect there is magic in it. ' ' "If so, the magician ought to be burned," observed Ed- ward; "but I do not think he is a real dealer in the black art." ** What will you say, sire, when I tell you that this sorcerer — this Pacolet — affirms that his horse can carry me across the Tower moat ? ' ' ' ' When I see it done, I will own that Pacolet is really the magician thou proclaimest him," replied the king. " I am half inclined to test the truth of the fellow's assertion. How say you, fair cousin ? " he added, to Lady Jane. ' ' Shall we have this Pacolet here, and make him exhibit the wondrous power of his steed ? ' ' " 'Twould be a curious sight, no doubt, if the man him- self were not put in jeopardy," she replied. " Nay, if the horse be brought, I crave your Majesty's per- mission to ride him," said Xit. "I have an extraordinary desire to perform the feat." ' ' But thou mayst break thy neck, and I have no desire to lose thee." "Your Majesty is most gracious, but the risk is nothing compared with the honor to be acquired. ' * "Let the knave have his way, good my liege," observed 2o8 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book 1 Sir Thomas Seymour. ' * No harm shall befall him. To- morrow afternoon, at this hour, I will have Pacolet and his steed brought hither, and if it shall please your Majesty to attend, I will promise you good sport. ' ' " We will not fail you, gentle uncle ; and we hope our fair cousin will condescend to be present likewise ? ' ' As may be supposed, the Lady Jane did not refuse her assent, and after another short turn upon the ramparts, the king and those with him returned to the palace. On the following afternoon Edward, who had been looking forward with some eagerness to the diversion promised him by his uncle, again appeared on the ramparts, but with a much more numerous retinue than on the previous occasion. In addition to Sir Thomas Seymour and the Marquis of Dorset, the royal party now comprised the Earl of Arundel, lord chamberlain. Sir John Gage, and Sir John Markham. Amongst the ladies, besides the Marchioness of Dorset and her daughter, the Lady Jane Grey, were the princess Eliza- beth and the queen -dowager. The two latter were bidden to the exhibition by the amiable young monarch with the ex- press design of composing the differences which he saw still existed between them and his uncle. But he failed in effect- ing a reconciliation. Both his sister and the queen remained immovable. Elizabeth treated Sir Thomas with the utmost disdain, and would not vouchsafe him either a word or a look. Though not so scornful in manner as the princess, Catherine was equally cold and reserved, and haughtily repelled her faithless suitor's advances. Unable to comprehend the cause of the quarrel, Edward was nevertheless much distressed by it, and expressed his regrets to his uncle, who shrugged his shoulders carelessly, as if it were a matter that gave him very little concern. Secretly, however. Sir Thomas had used every endeavor to re-establish himself in the queen's good graces. He had besought a private interview, but the re- quest was refused. He had written to her more than one Chap.Xl^l KIT ON THE IVOODEN HORSE 209 moving epistle, full of regrets, despair, protestations, and promises. These missives were conveyed by the trusty hand of his esquire, but no response came back. Still Sir Thomas, though rebuffed, was not discouraged. The storm would soon blow over, he thought. After the sharpest frost must come a thaw. The storm, however, was of some duration, and the frost lasted longer than he anticipated. Whatever might be passing within, Sir Thomas took care not to let his appearance or manner be affected by it. Gay and full of spirit as ever, he seemed only anxious about his royal nephew's amusement. Seymour's chief aim, in fact, seemed to bring Edward and the Lady Jane together, and if he failed in all else, in this he entirely succeeded. During the whole time he remained on the ramparts, Edward kept his fair cousin near him, and seemed completely engrossed by her, much to the delight of the Marchioness of Dorset, who could not sufficiently express her gratitude to the con- triver of the meeting. But it is time to ascertain what preparations had been made for Xit's aerial expedition. The Brass Mount had been selected as the starting-point of the magic steed. The sum- mit of this bastion, the largest, the loftiest, and the strongest of the Tower fortifications, was capable of accommodating a great number of persons, but only the royal party and those engaged in the exhibition were admitted upon it. The Brass Mount was defended by high embattled walls, on the inner side of which was a platform, whereon some of the heaviest guns in the fortress were placed, with their muzzles protruding through the crenellated walls. One of these guns had been dismounted, and its carriage appropriated to the Enchanted Horse, which was now set upon it, with its head towards the opening in the parapet, as if ready for flight. A strange -looking steed it was ! ugly as a hobgoblin — large enough undoubtedly for a rider of Xit's proportions, yet not equal in size to a full-grown Shetland pony. It had a singu- 14 210 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER iBookl larly weird and wicked -looking head, befitting an animal pos- sessed of supernatural powers, horns as well as ears, and immense eyes, which it could open and shut and turn in any direction. Only the head, neck, and tail were visible, the body of the horse being covered with red and yellow-striped trappings that reached to the ground. On its head was a shaffron of blood-red plumes. It was furnished with a bridle having very broad reins, and a saddle with a very high peak and crupper; but in lieu of stirrups a funnel-topped boot dangled on either side. Such was Pacolet's horse. Tlie enchanter himself was a swarthy-complexioned man, with quick, black eyes, and gypsy features, and probably be- longed to the wandering tribe. Habited in a tight-fitting dress of tawny silk, and wearing a brass girdle inscribed with mystic characters, and a tall pointed cap covered with similar figures, he carried a white rod, with a small gilt apple on the top. On either side of the magic steed, with their huge partisans in hand, stood Gog and Magog. The laughter playing about their broad features showed they were in high good humor, and expectant of entertainment. The dwarfish hero of the day had not yet made his appearance, he being in the king's train. While the royal party were taking up a position on the platform contiguous to the magic steed, the fantastic appear- ance of which caused much merriment. Sir Thomas Seymour went up to Pacolet, and after a few words with him, clapped his hands to intimate that all was ready. At this signal, the diminutive figure of Xit instantly detached itself from the group of laughing pages and henchmen. Marching with a very consequential step, and bowing ceremoniously to the king as he passed, the dwarf was met half way by Pacolet, who, taking him by the hand, lifted him on to the platform. * ' My steed is ready, if you are, good Master Xit, ' ' said the courteous enchanter. ** Will it please you to mount him at once ? ' ' Chap.Xy'l XIT ON THE H^OODEN HORSE 211 **Not so fast, worthy Pacolet," rejoined Xit, conscious that all eyes were upon him, and anxious to display himself. '* Give me a moment to examine thy horse. By my troth ! he hath a vicious-looking head. ' ' **You will find him tractable enough when you are on his back," observed Pacolet, displaying two ranges of very white teeth. '* May be so ; yet I like not the expression of his eye. It hath malice and devilry in it, as if he would rejoice to throw me. Saints protect us ! the beast seemed to wink at me. ' ' *' Not unlikely," replied Pacolet, who had placed one hand on the horse's head ; ** he has a habit of winking when he is pleased. ' ' '* Is that a sign of his satisfaction?" observed Xit. ** I should have judged the contrary. How is the creature desig- nated?" * * He is called Daedalus — at your service, good Master Xit." "Daedalus!" exclaimed Xit, startled. "Pray Heaven he prove me not an Icarus. I like not the name. 'Tis of ill omen." " 'Tis a name like any other," observed Pacolet, shrugging his shoulders. " So ho ! Daedalus — so ho, sir ! You see he is eager for flight. ' ' ' ' If thou art afraid to mount, say so at once, and retire, ' ' cried Gog, gruffly. " His majesty will be wearied with this trifling. ' ' "I afraid?" exclaimed Xit, indignantly. " When didst ever know me shrink from danger, base giant ? One more question, worthy Pacolet, and I have done. What mean those boots ? ' ' " They are designed to encase thy legs, and keep thee in thy seat," rejoined the enchanter. * * But I can maintain my seat without them, ' ' returned Xit, with a displeased look. 212 THE COhlSTABLE OF THE TOPVER [Book t '*A truce to this! Off with thee without more ado!" cried Magog. And seizing the dwarf, he clapped him in the saddle, while Pacolet, without a moment's loss of time, thrust his legs into the boots. Xit was disposed to be rebel- lious during the latter proceeding, but his strength availed him little, and he was obliged to yield with the best grace he could. At last, Pacolet left him, and went to the rear of the horse. On this, Xit took his cap, and waving an adieu to the royal party, all of whom looked much diverted with the scene, kicked his boots against the horse's sides, and shouted, *'Away with thee, Daedalus ! — ^away !" But though he continued the application with increased vigor, the horse would not stir, but emitted an angry snorting sound. '* Pest take him !" cried the dwarf. '* He won't move." '*Methought thou hadst been aware of the secret," re- joined Pacolet. ** Turn the pin on his right shoulder, and he will move quickly enough." Xit followed the enchanter's instructions, and Daedalus immediately began to glide through the opening in the para- pet, not so quickly, though, but that his adventurous little rider was again enabled to wave his cap to the king. In another moment the dwarf had disappeared, and a hurried movement was made to the edge of the battlements to see what had become of him. It was then perceptible to those nearest to the point of departure how the flight was to be accomplished. Two long pieces of wire, sufficiently strong to sustain the weight re- quired, but nearly invisible at a short distance, were drawn across the moat from the bastion to the opposite bank, and along these wires the enchanted horse slipped, being guided in its descent by a cord fixed to its crupper — which cord was held by Pacolet. A large crowd was collected on the banks of the moat^ but the spot where the wires were fastened Chap. Xy^ XIT ON THE IVOODEN HORSE 213 down, and where it was expected the dwarf would descend, was kept clear by Og and half a dozen tall yeomen of the guard. No sooner did Xit, mounted on the wooden horse, issue from the battlements, than a loud shout was raised by the beholders, to which the delighted dwarf responded by waving his hat to them, and he then commenced his downward course in the most triumphant manner. His exultation increased as he advanced ; but it cost him dear. While replying to the cheers with which he was greeted, he leaned too much towards the left, and the horse immediately turned over, leaving his rider hanging head downwards over the moat. The shouts of laughter were instantly changed to cries of affright, but no assistance could be rendered the unfor- tunate dwarf, for Pacolet vainly tried to pull him up again. The spectators, however, were not kept long in suspense. Xit's struggles soon disengaged his legs from the boots, and he dropped headlong into the moat, and disappeared beneath the tide. But rescue was at hand. With the utmost promptitude Og dashed into the fosse, and waded out to the spot where Xit had sunk, which was about the middle of the moat. Though the water quickly reached up to his shoulders, the giant went on until the head of the mannikin suddenly popped up beside him. With a shout of satisfaction Og then seized him, held him aloft like a dripping water-rat and bore him safely ashore, amid the laughter and acclamations of the beholders. H4 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iBook I CHAPTER XVI m WHAT MANNER THE OBSEQUIES OF KING HENRY VIII. IVERE CELEBRATED— SHOWING HOIV THE FUNERAL PROCESSION SET FORTH FROM THE PALACE AT WEST- MINSTER The time appointed for placing the late king within the tomb now drew nigh, and as the obsequies were the most magnificent ever celebrated in this country, or perhaps in any other, we may be excused for dwelling upon them at some length; the rather, that besides presenting a very striking illustration of the customs of an age that delighted in shows and solemnities of all kinds, the extraordinary honors paid to Henry on his interment prove the estimation in which his memory was held by his subjects; and that notwith- standing the tyranny of his rule, he was regarded as a mighty monarch. By its unprecedented splendor, his burial worthily closed a reign which was one long pageant — a pageant for the most part gorgeous; sometimes gloomy, tragical, and even awful; but ever grand and imposing. Luckily, ample ma- terials for accurate description are provided for us, and we shall avail ourselves freely of them, in order to present a full account of the most remarkable royal funeral on record. Embalmed by apothecaries and chirurgeons of greatest skill in the art, wrapped in cerecloth of many folds, and in an outer cover of cloth of vairy and velvet, bound with cords of silk, the corpse of the puissant monarch was at first laid out on the couch wherein he had expired, with a scroll sewn on the breast containing his titles and the date of his demise, written in large and small characters. The body was next Chap. Xyi] OBSEQUIES OF KING HENRY VHI 215 cased in lead, and deposited in a second coffin of oak, elabor- ately sculptured, and of enormous size. Enveloped in a pall of blue velvet, whereon was laid a sil- ver cross, the ponderous coffin was removed to the privy - chamber, and set upon a large frame covered with cloth of gold, where it remained for five days; during which time lights were constantly burning within the chamber, a watch kept night and day by thirty gentlemen of the privy-chamber, and masses and orisons offered for the repose of the soul of the departed monarch by the chaplains. Meanwhile, all the approaches to the chapel within the palace were hung with black, and garnished with escutcheons of the king's arms, descents, and marriages; while in the chapel itself the floors and walls were covered with black cloth, the sides and ceilings set with banners and standards of Saint George, and the high altar covered with black velvet, and adorned with magnificent plate and jewels. In the midst of the sacred apartment, surrounded by barriers, clothed with black, with a smaller altar at its foot, adorned like the high altar with plate and jewels, was set a superb catafalque, gar- nished with pensils and escutcheons, and having at each cor- ner the banner of a saint beaten in fine gold upon damask. A majesty of rich cloth of gold, with a valance of black silk fringed with black silk and gold, canopied this catafalque, which was lighted by fourscore square tapers, each two feet in length, and containing altogether two thousand pounds' weight of wax. In regard to some of the accessories here particularized, or which will be subsequently mentioned, it may be remarked, that the ** Banner" which could be borne by none of inferior degree to a banneret, was square in form, and displayed the arms of the sovereign all over it. The *' Standard " differed in shape from the banner, being much longer, and slit at the extremity. This ensign did not display armorial bearings. The ' * Pennon * ' was less than the standard, rounded at the 2i6 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Booh I extremity, and charged with arms. *' Bannerols " were ban- ners of great width, representing alliances and descents. ** Pensils" were small flags shaped like the vanes on pinna- cles. Banners of saints and images were still used at the time of Henry's interment, when, as will be seen, many of the rites of the Church of Rome were observed. On Wednesday, 2nd of February, 1547, being Candlemas Day, during the night, the coffin having been covered with a rich pall of cloth of tissue, crossed with white tissue, and gar- nished with escutcheons of the king's arms, was removed with great ceremony and reverence to the chapel, where it was placed on the catafalque, all the tapers about which had been previously lighted. A rich cloth of gold, adorned with pre- cious stones, was there thrown over the coffin. On the day after the removal of the royal corpse, the Mar- quis of Dorset, as chief mourner, with twelve other noble- men, foremost among whom were the Earls of Arundel, Ox- ford, Shrewsbury, Derby, and Sussex, assembled in the pallet -chamber, arrayed in sable weeds, with hoods over their heads, and thence proceeded in order, two and two, to the chapel — the chief mourner marching first, with his train borne after him. Officers of arms and gentlemen ushers headed the solemn procession, which was closed by the vice-chamberlain and other officials, all in suits of woe. On arriving at the catafalque, the Marquis of Dorset knelt down at its head, and his companions on either side of it. Then Norroy, king of arms, appearing at the door of the choir, cried with a loud voice, *' Of your charity pray for the soul of the high and most mighty prince, our late sovereign, lord and king, Henry the Eighth. ' ' Next, Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, and Bonner, Bishop of London, came forth from the revestry in their full robes, and proceeding to the high altar, a solemn requiem was sung, the whole choir joining in the hymn. Chap. Xyi^ OBSEQUIES OF KING HENRY Fill 217 Here the body remained for three days, constant watch being kept about it, and the tapers continuing ever burning. The solemnities connected with the burial were to occupy as many more days. The royal corpse was to be conveyed with all possible ceremony to Windsor Castle. The first day's halt was to be at the convent of Si on. On the second day, Windsor was to be reached. On the third day, the interment was to take place in Saint George's Chapel. At an early hour on the morning of Monday, 14th Febru- ary, the solemn ceremonial began. The shades of night had not yet wholly fled, but abundance of flaming torches cast a strange and lurid light on the gates, towers, and windows of the palace, and on the numerous dusky groups collected in its courts. Before the great hall door was drawn up a right noble funeral chariot, whereunto were harnessed seven Flanders horses of the largest size, wholly trapped in black velvet down to the pasterns, each horse bearing four escutcheons of the late king's arms, beaten in fine gold upon double sarcenet, upon his trappings, and having a shaffron of the king's arms on his head. The car was marvellous to behold. It was of immense size, and its wheels, being thickly gilt, looked as if made of burnished gold. The lower part of the vehicle was hung with blue velvet, reaching to the ground between the wheels ; and the upper part consisted of a stupendous canopy, supported by four pillars, overlaid with cloth of gold, the canopy being covered with the same stufl", and having in the midst of it a richly gilt dome. Within the car was laid a thick mattress of cloth of gold and tissue fringed with blue silk and gold. After the funeral car had thus taken up its station, there issued from the chapel a solemn train, consisting of mitred prelates in their copes, and temporal lords in mourning habits, the bishops walking two and two, and reciting prayers as they moved along. Then came the coflin, borne by 2i8 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I sixteen stout yeomen of the guard, under a rich canopy of blue velvet, fringed with silk and gold, sustained by blue staves with tops of gold, each staff being borne by a baron — namely, the Lords Abergavenny, Conyers, Latimer, Fitz- walter. Bray, and Cromwell. After the coffin followed the Marquis of Dorset and the twelve mourners, the latter walking two and two. Many torch-bearers attended the procession, the greater number marching on either side of the body. When the coffin had been reverently placed within the chariot, a pall of cloth of gold was cast over it. Then was brought forward an object, considered the grand triumph of the show, which excited wonder and admiration in all who looked upon it. This was an Q^gy of the departed monarch, beautifully sculptured in wood by the most skilful carver of the day, and painted by a hand no less cunning than that of Holbein himself. Bedecked in Henry's own habiliments of cloth of gold and velvet, enriched with precious stones of all kinds, this image had a marvellous and lifelike effect. In the right hand was placed a golden sceptre, while the left sustained the orb of the world with a cross. Upon the head was set a crown imperial of inestima- ble value. Over the shoulders was the collar of the Garter, and below the knee was the lesser badge of the order as worn by the king himself in his lifetime. The attitude of the figure was noble and commanding, and exactly like that of the imperious monarch. Borne by the three gigantic warders of the Tower, who seemed not a little proud of their office, this image was placed in the chariot under the superintendence of Fowler and other gentlemen of the privy-chamber, its feet resting upon a cushion of cloth of gold, and its upright position being secured by silken bands fastened to the four pillars of the car. The effigy of the king being fixed in its place, six ban- nerols of marriages and descents were hung on either side of Chap. AT/] OBSEQUIES OF KING HENRY l^III 219 the chariot, and one bannerol at each end. All being now arranged, Sir Anthony Denny and Sir William Herbert, chief gentlemen of the privy-chamber, entered the car, stationing themselves, the one at the head of the coffin, and the other at its foot. During these preparations, which occupied a considerable time, a vast crowd had collected within the precincts of the palace, and this assemblage began now to manifest impatience in various ways. Even the solemnity of the occasion did not prevent many quarrels and scuffles, which the halberdiers and mounted pursuivants of arms strove in vain to check. As the time advanced, and the crowd grew denser, these disturb- ances became more frequent, and the guard had enough to do to keep the tumultuous and noisy throng outside the barriers, which extended from the palace gates beyond Charing- cross, the whole of this space being filled by countless spectators, while every window was occupied and every roof had its cluster of human beings. Just as the bell of Westminster Abbey tolled forth the hour of eight, the great bell of Saint Paul's, never rung save on the death or funeral of a monarch, began its awful boom, and amidst the slow and solemn sounding of bells from every adjacent steeple, coupled with the rolling of muffled drums, the funeral procession set forth from the courts of the palace. First rode two porters of the king's house, bearing long black staves ; after them came the sergeant of the vestry, with the verger; next, the cross, with the children, clerks, and priests of the chapel, in their surplices, singing orisons. On either side of this train, from the cross to the dean of the chapel, walked two hundred and fifty poor men, in long mourning gowns and hoods, having badges on the left shoulder — the red and white cross, in a sun shining, with the crown imperial above it. Each of these men carried a long blazing torch, and the number of these flambeaux made an extraordinary show. Two carts laden with additional torches 220 THE CONSTyfBLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I for use during the progress of the procession, attended them. This division was closed by the bearer of the Dragon stand- ard, with a sergeant-at-arms holding a mace on either side of him. Backwards and forwards along the line rode mounted pursuivants to keep order. Next came a long train of harbingers, servants of ambassa- dors, trumpeters, chaplains, esquires, and officers of the household, according to degree. After this miscellaneous troop came the standard of the Greyhound, borne by Sir Nicholas Stanley, with a sergeant- at-arms on either side. Next followed the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London, and after them the knights, bannerets, chaplains of dignity, and all those of the king's household who were knights, with other notable strangers. This division was under the conduct of two heralds and other officers, who rode from standard to standard to keep order. Next came the standard of the Lion, borne by Lord Wind- sor, hooded and trapped, and attended by two sergeants, with maces. He was followed by the lower council, walking two and two ; by the lords of the council, and by a long line of noble strangers and ambassadors. With the ambassador of the Emperor Charles V. , came the Archbishop of Canterbury. Order was maintained by four mounted heralds. Next came the embroidered banner of the King's Arms, borne by Lord Talbot, with his hood drawn over his head, and his horse trapped in black. Then followed Carlisle, herald of arms, bearing the king's helm and crest, his horse being trapped and garnished. Then Norroy, king-at-arms, bearing the target. Then Clarencieux, with the king's rich coat of arms curiously embroidered. All these had escutcheons on the trappings of their horses, and were under the guidance of sergeants-at-arms, furnished with maces. The funeral car now came in sight. Before it were carried twelve banners of descents, the bearers walking two and two. Led by grooms in mourning apparel, the seven great horses Chap, Xf^II OBSEQUIES OF KING HENRY Vllt 221 appointed to drag along the ponderous machine were ridden by children of honor, arrayed in black, with hoods on their heads, each of them carrying a bannerol of the king's dominions and of the ancient arms of England. On either side of the horses walked thirty persons in sable attire, hold- ing tall, flaming, staff torches. Besides these there were numerous grooms and pages. At each corner of the car walked a knight, with a banner of descents; and on either side of it rode three others, cloaked and hooded, their steeds being trapped in black to the ground. Those on the right were Sir Thomas Seymour, Sir Thomas Heneage, and Sir Thomas Paston ; those on the left were Sir John Gage, Sir Thomas Darcy, and Sir Maurice Berkeley. In the rear of the funeral car rode the chief mourner, the Marquis of Dorset, alone, with his horse trapped in black velvet, and after him came the twelve mourners with their steeds trapped to the ground. After the mourners rode the Earl of Arundel, lord chamberlain of the household, with his hood on his shoulder, to intimate that he was not a mourner. After the lord chamberlain came Sir Anthony Brown, master of the horse, bareheaded, and leading the king's favorite milk-white steed, trapped all in cloth of gold down to the ground. Nine mounted henchmen followed next, clad in suits of woe, and hooded, their horses trapped to the ground, and having shaffrons on their heads, and themselves bearing ban- nerols of the arms of England before the Conquest. Then followed Sir Francis Bryan, master of the henchmen. Then Sir Anthony Wingfield, vice-chamberlain and captain of the guard, followed by a large company of the guard, in black, marching three and three, each with a halberd on his shoulder with the point downwards. A long line of noble- men's servants and others closed the cortege. It was now broad day, though dull and foggy, but the 232 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I countless torches lighted up the procession, and gave it a strange, ghostly look. Thus seen, the black, hooded figures appeared mysterious and awful. But it was upon the stupend- ous funeral car that all regards were concentrated. So won- derfully lifelike was the effigy of the king, that not a few among the credulous and half-informed spectators thought Henry himself had returned to earth to superintend his own funeral ceremony ; while on all hands the image was regarded as a miracle of art. Exclamations of wonder and delight arose on all sides as it went by, and many persons knelt down as if a saint were being borne along. The head of the cor- tege had passed Spring Gardens some time before the rear issued from the courts of the palace, and, seen from Charing- cross, the long line of dusky figures, with the standards, ban- ners, torches, and chariot, presented such a spectacle as has never since been seen from that spot, though many a noble procession has in after times pursued the same route. At the foot of the noble Gothic cross a crowd of persons had been collected from an early hour. Amongst them was a tall Franciscan friar, who maintained a moody silence, and who regarded the pageant with so much sternness and scorn that many marvelled he should have come thither to look upon it. When the ponderous funeral car, after toiling its way up the ascent, came to the Cross, a brief halt was called, and during this pause the tall monk pressed forward, and throwing back his hood, so as fully to display his austere and death-pale features, lighted up by orbs blazing with insane light, stretched out his hand towards the receptacle of the royal corpse, and exclaimed, with a loud voice, "In the plenitude of his power I rebuked for his sinfulness the wicked king whom ye now bear to the tomb with all this senseless pomp. Inspired from above, I lifted up my voice, and told him, that as his life had been desperately wicked, so his doom should be that of the worst of kings, and dogs would lick his blood. And ere yet he shall be laid in the tomb my words will come to Chap. XyH'\ HAPPENINGS AT SION CHURCH 223 At this juncture two pursuivants rode up and threatened to brain the rash speaker with their maces, but some of the crowd screened him from their rage. ** Strike him not !" cried an elderly man of decent appear- ance. '*He is crazed. 'Tis the mad Franciscan, Father Peto. Make way for him there ! Let him pass!" he added to those behind, who charitably complying, the monk escaped uninjured. CHAPTER XVII WHAT WAS SEEN AND HEARD AT MIDNIGHT BY THE WATCH- ERS IN THE CONVENTUAL CHURCH AT SION Beautifully situated on the banks of the Thames, between Brentford and Isleworth, and about midway between the metropolis and Windsor, stood the suppressed Convent of Sion, selected as the first halting place of the funeral cortege. In this once noble, but now gloomy and desecrated monastery, which had been stripped of all its wealth and endowments by the rapacious monarch, was confined the lovely but ill-fated Catherine Howard, who had poured forth her unavailing in- tercessions for mercy from on high at the altar near which, later on, the body of her tyrant husband was to rest, and who had been taken thence, half frantic with terror, to die by his ruthless decree on the scaffold. Guilt she might have, but what was her guilt compared with that of her inexorable hus- band and judge ! Shortly after the events about to be narrated, Sion was bestowed by Edward VI. on his uncle, the lord protector ; but from the time of its suppression up to this period, it had been, comparatively speaking, deserted. Reverting to the crown, the estate was next granted to the Duke of Nor- 2 24 7"//£ CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I thumberland, on whose attainder it was once more forfeited. The monastery was restored and re-endowed by Mary — ^but it is needless to pursue its history further. Mighty preparations had now been made within the neg- lected convent for the lodging and accommodation of the immense funeral retinue. Luckily, the building was of great extent, and its halls and chambers, though decaying and dilapidated, capable of holding an incredible number of per- sons. Their capacity in this respect was now about to be thoroughly tested. Hospitality, at the period of our history, was practised at seasons of woe on as grand and profuse a scale as at festivities and rejoicings, and the extraordinary supplies provided for the consumption of the guests expected at Sion were by no means confined to funeral baked meats. Cold viands there were in abundance — joints of prodigious size — chines and sirloins of beef, chines of pork, baked red- deer, baked swan, baked turkey, baked sucking-pig, gammon of bacon pie, wild-boar pie, roe pie, hare pie, soused sturgeon, soused salmon, and such like — ^but there was no lack of hot provisions, roast, boiled and stewed, nor of an adequate supply of sack, hippocrass, Rhenish, Canary, and stout October ale. Every care was taken that the lords spiritual and temporal, with the foreign ambassadors and other persons of distinction, should be suitably lodged, but the majority of the actors in the gloomy pageant were left to shift for themselves, and the dormitories of the convent, even in its most flourish- ing days, had never known half so many occupants. The halls and principal chambers of the ancient religious structure were hung with black, and garnished with escutcheons, and the fine old conventual church, refitted for the occasion, was likewise clothed with mourning, the high altar being entirely covered with black velvet, and adorned with all the jewels and gold and silver plate of which the shrines of the monas- tery had been previously plundered. In the midst of the Chap. Xyill HAPPENIhIGS AT SION CHURCH 225 choir, protected by double barriers, was placed a catafalque even more stately than that provided in the chapel of the palace at Westminster, with a lofty canopy, the valance whereof was fringed with black silk and gold, and the sides garnished with pensils, escutcheons, and bannerols. Around this catafalque burnt a surprising number of large wax tapers. The progress of the funeral cortdge was necessarily slow, and it was past one o'clock ere it reached Brentford, at which place a number of nobles, knights, and esquires, together with the lord mayor and aldermen of London, rode on towards Sion, and arranged themselves in long lines on either side of the convent gates. About two o'clock, the funeral car drew up at the west door of the church, and the effigy of the king was first taken out by the three gigantic warders, and carried by them with befitting care and reverence to the revestry. After which the coffin was ceremoniously brought out, and conveyed through two lines of nobles and ambas- sadors to the receptacle provided for it with!n the choir — the bishops in their mitres and copes preceding it. Thus de- posited, the coffin was covered with a blue velvet pall, having a white cross embroidered upon it. At the head of the pall were laid the king's helm and crest, on the right and left, his sword and targe, and his embroidered coat at the foot. All round the exquisitely carved choir were ranged the various banners and standards used in the procession. Illumined by a thousand tapers, crowded with mourners of the highest rank, and with ecclesiastical dignitaries occupied in their sacred functions, with chaplains, choristers, and others, the appearance of the choir, decorated as already described with banners and escutcheons, was singularly strik- ing, and when a solemn dirge was performed by the Bishop of London and the choristers, the combined effect of spec- tacle and hymn was almost sublime. Not only was the choir crowded, but the entire body of the large conventual church was filled to inconvenience by those engaged in the ceremony. 15 2 26 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I No sooner, however, was the service ended than the church was speedily cleared of all save the watchers, and the demoli- tion of the good cheer prepared for them in the halls and refectory commenced in right earnest. Eating and drinking there was from one end of the monastery to the other, and the purveyors, grooms, and yeomen of the kitchen, larder, cellar, and buttery, had enough to do to answer the incessant demands made upon them. Much merriment, we regret to say, prevailed among the mourners, and some ditties, that did not sound exactly like doleful strains, were occasionally heard. Provisions were liberally given to all comers at the convent gates, and alms distributed to the poor. Constant watch was kept about the body, and the guard was relieved every hour. But, notwithstanding the vigilance exercised, a singular incident took place, which we shall pro- ceed to relate. A little before midnight it came to the turn of the three gigantic warders to take their station beside the body, and as the elder brother stood on the left of the hearse, leaning on his enormous halberd, he remarked that a dark stream had issued from beneath the pall covering the coffin, and was slowly trickling down the escutcheoned side of the catafalque. Horror-stricken at the sight, he remained gazing at this en- sanguined current until some drops had fallen upon the ground. He then uttered an exclamation, which quickly brought his brothers to him. *' What alarms thee, Og? " cried the two giants. " Look there ! " said the other. *"Tis the king's blood. The coffin has burst." '* No doubt of it !" exclaimed Gog. ** 'Tis a terrible mis- chance — ^but we cannot be blamed for it. ' ' **A truce with such folly !" cried Magog. '* 'Tis the rough roads between this and Brentford, which shook the car so sorely, that are in fault, and not we ! But what is to be done ? Me- thinks the alarm ought to be given to the grand master. ' ' Chap. Xl^in HAPPENWGS AT SION CHURCH 227 '*Ay," replied Og ; ** but the flow of blood increases. We ought to stay it. " * * How can that be done ? ' ' cried Gog. * ' Can we mend the bursten coffin ? ' ' '* Others may, if we cannot," cried Og. ** No time must be lost in obtaining aid. These fearful stains must be effaced ere the bearers come to-morrow. ' ' Without more ado he hurried towards the great western door of the church, and was followed by his brothers, who seemed quite bewildered by the occurrence. But they had scarcely reached the door, when they were suddenly arrested by a fierce barking, as of hounds, apparently proceeding from the choir. Appalled by the sound, they instantly stopped, and, turn- ing round, beheld a spectacle that transfixed them with horror. Within the barriers, and close beside the coffin on the side of the catafalque down which the loathy current had flowed, stood a tall, dark figure, which, under the circumstances, they might well be excused for deeming unearthly. With this swart figure were two large, coal-black hounds of Saint Hubert's breed, with eyes that, in the imagination of the giants, glowed like carbuncles. Encouraged by their master, these hounds were rending the blood-stained cover of the catafalque with their teeth. * * ' Tis Satan in person ! ' ' exclaimed Magog. * ' But I will face him, and check those hell-hounds in their infernal work." " I will go with thee," said Og. '* I fear neither man nor demon. ' ' ' * Nay, I will not be left behind, ' ' said Gog, accompanying them. But, notwithstanding their vaunted courage, they advanced with caution, and ere they gained the entrance of the choir, the dark figure had come forth with his hounds, which stood savagely growling beside him. They then perceived that the fancied infernal being was a monk with his hood drawn closely over his grim and ghastly features. 228 THE CONST ABLE OF THE TOIVER [Booh I Stretching out his hands towards them, the monk ex- claimed, in tones that thrilled his hearers with new terror, " My words have come to pass. Henry sold himself to work wickedness, and I warned him of his doom as Elijah the Tish- bite warned Ahab. The judgment of Ahab hath come upon him. On the self-same spot where Catherine Howard knelt before her removal to the Tower, dogs have licked the wife- slayer's blood — even his blood !" Before the giants recovered sufficiently from their stupefac- tion to make an attempt to stay him, Father Peto, with his hounds, effected a retreat by a lateral door, through which it is to be presumed he had entered the church. Filled with consternation, the giants were debating what ought to be done, when the wicket of the great western door was opened, and the Lord St. John, grand master, with three tall yeomen of the guard, entered the church. The torn hangings of the catafalque rendered concealment impossible, even if the giants had felt inclined to attempt it, but they at once acquainted Lord St. John with the mysterious occur- rence. While listening to the strange recital, the grand master looked exceedingly angry, and the giants fully expected a severe reprimand at the least, if not punishment, for their negligence. To their surprise, however, the displeasure of their auditor changed to gravity, and without making any re- mark upon their relation, he proceeded to examine the con- dition of the catafalque. Having satisfied himself of the truth of the extraordinary statement he had received, the grand master gave orders for the immediate repair of the coffin, the restoration of the torn hanging, and the cleansing of the floor, charging the giants, on pain of death, not to breathe another word as to the mysterious appearance of Father Peto and the hounds. Strict watch was kept throughout the rest of the night, and care taken to prevent further intrusion. Ch(4>' XyiW^ SAINT GEORGE'S CHAPEL ^29 CHAPTER XVIII HOW THE ROYAL CORPSE JVAS BROUGHT TO SAINT GEORGE'S CHAPEL Next morning the numerous occupants of the convent arose betimes, and prepared for the journey to Windsor. The ma- jority of the persons composing the procession had been obliged to sleep on stools or benches, or on the rushes with which the floors were thickly strewn. However, all were astir long before break of day. In those hearty times, break- fast differed but slightly from dinner or supper, and a very substantial repast, wound up with spiced wines and cates, was set before the guests preparatory to their setting forth. Precisely at seven o'clock the funeral procession started from the convent gates in the same order as before, accom- panied by a like number of flaming torches. The bells were tolled in Isleworth church as the lugubrious train approached the village, and priests and clerks came forth to cense the royal corpse. Similar ceremonies were observed in every hamlet subsequently passed through. At length the cortege reached Eton, then as now sur- rounded by stately groves. Near the gates of the noble col- lege, founded about a century previously by the unfortunate Henry VI. , stood Doctor Robert Aldrich, Bishop of Carlisle and Provost of Eton, in full pontificals, attended by the mas- ters and fellows of the church in their vestments and copes, and by the scholars of the college in white surplices. The latter, who were extremely numerous, some of them being of very tender years, were bareheaded, and carried lighted tapers. As the corpse went by, they knelt down and censed 23© THE COmTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book I it, chanting the De ProfundiSy their young voices giving a touching effect to the solemn psalm. From the northern terrace of Windsor Castle, the sombre procession, slowly making its way from Eton to the bridge across the Thames, presented a remarkable and deeply inter- esting sight ; but few were there to witness it. Most of the inmates of the Castle were engaged in preparing for the arrival of their expected guests, and such as were not so occu- pied had repaired to the bridge across the Thames, at the foot of which were stationed the mayor of Windsor, the aldermen, benchers, and burgesses, and the priests and clerks of the church of Saint John the Baptist within the town. From this point to the Horseshoe Cloisters within the Castle, the road was railed on either side, the rails being hung with black cloth to the ground, and covered with escutcheons of arms and marriages. As at the Convent of Sion, though on a far more sumptuous and extensive scale, preparations were made at the Castle for the numerous and important visitors and their attendants. All the apartments assigned to the princi- pal nobles and ambassadors were hung with black, as were Saint George's Hall, and the interior of the Garter Tower. The royal standard on the keep was furled, and an immense hatchment of black velvet, emblazoned with the king's arms, worked in gold, was placed on the outer side of the gate of the lower ward, the battlements of which were thickly hung with banners. Numberless spectators thronged the barriers throughout their entire extent, and the windows of all the habitations in Thames Street were densely occupied. Slowly did the long train make its way to the Castle gate, and it was with great difficulty that the seven powerful horses could drag the ponderous funeral car up the steep ascent. At last, how- ever, the feat was accomplished ; the car entered the broad court of the lower ward, and was brought in safety to the western door of the chapel of Saint George. Meanwhile, all the attendants upon the ceremonial, por- Chap. XyiW^ SAINT GEORGE'S CHAPEL 231 ters, servants of the royal household, harbingers and pur- suivants, with a multitude of others, including the two hun- dred and fifty poor men in mourning habits, had entered the church, and stationed themselves in the nave — a. wide passage being left from the western door to the choir, to be traversed by the bearers of the coffin. The more important personages, however, remained in the area of the Horseshoe Cloisters, awaiting a summons to enter the church. Fairer ecclesiastical fabric does not exist than the collegiate chapel of Saint George at Windsor ; and at the period in question the goodly structure was seen at its best. No dese- crating hands had then marred its beauty. Externally, it was very striking — the numerous crocketed pinnacles being adorned with glittering vanes supported by gilt lions, antelopes, grey- hounds, and dragons. The interior corresponded with the outward show, and luckily the best part has undergone little mutilation. Nothing more exquisite can be imagined than the richly decorated stone ceiling, supported by ribs and groins of incomparable beauty — than the light and graceful pillars of the nave — than the numerous chapels and chantries — or than the matchless choir. Within the nave are em- blazoned the arms of Henry VIII. and those of his renowned contemporaries and survivors, Charles V. and Francis I., both of whom were companions of the Order of the Garter. At the period of which we treat, all the windows were filled with deep- stained glass, glowing with the mingled and gorgeous dyes of the ruby, the topaz, and the emerald, and casting a "dim religious light" on the architectural marvels of the fane. Commenced in the previous century by Edward IV., continued and further embellished by Henry VII., who contributed the unequalled roof of the choir, the finishing stroke to the noble pile was given by Henry VIII., traces of whom may be found in the heraldic insignia decora- ting the splendid ceiling of the body of the church, and in other parts of the structure. 232 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I In preparation for the ceremony about to take place within its walls, portions of the body of the church were hung with black, the central pavement of the nave being spread with black cloth, and the pillars of the aisles decorated with ban- ners and escutcheons. The floor of the choir was likewise carpeted with black, and the pedestals of the elaborately carved stalls of the knights companions of the Garter, clothed with sable velvet. The emblazoned banners of the knights still occupied their accustomed position on the canopies of the stalls, but the late sovereign's splendid banner was re- moved, his stall put into mourning, and a hatchment set in the midst of it. The high altar was hung with cloth of gold, and gorgeously ornamented with candlesticks, crosses, chalices, censers, ships, and images of gold and silver. Con- tiguous to it on the right was another and lesser altar, covered with black velvet, but destitute of ornament. In the midst of the choir, surrounded by double barriers, stood a catafalque, larger and far more sumptuous than either of those used at the palace of Westminster or in the con- ventual church of Sion. Double-storied, thirty-five feet high, having eight panes and thirteen principals, curiously wrought, painted and gilded, this stately catafalque was garnished with a rich majesty and a double-valanced dome, around which were inscribed the king's name and title in beaten gold upon silk. Fringed with black silk and gold, the whole frame was covered with tapers — a consumption of four thousand pounds' weight of wax having been calculated upon, — ^and was gar- nished with pensils, scutcheons of arms and marriages, hatch- ments of silk and gold ; while bannerols of descents depended from it in goodly wise. At the foot of the catafalque was a third altar covered with black velvet, and decorated with rich plate and jewels. Beneath this stately catafalque lay the sepulchre, into which the royal corpse was ere long to be lowered by means of an apparatus somewhat resembling that now common to our cem- Chap. XVIW] SMNT GEORGE'S CHAPEL 233 eteries. In this vault was already deposited the once lovely Jane Seymour, by whose side Henry had directed his remains to be laid. Here also, at a later period, was placed the body of the martyred Charles I. By his will, Henry had given particular directions that he should be interred in the choir of Saint George's Chapel, ** midway between the state and the high altar," enjoining his executors to prepare an honorable tomb for his bones to rest in, '* with a fair grate about it, in which tomb we will that the bones and body of our true and loving wife. Queen Jane, be put also. ' ' Thus much of his instructions were ful- filled, but he desired more than any executor could achieve. *'We will and ordain," he appointed, '*that a convenient altar be there honorably prepared, and apparelled with all manner of things requisite and necessary for daily masses, there to be said perpetually, while the world shall endure. ' ' While the world shall endure ! Alas for the vanity of hu- man designs ! Who heeds that fiat now ? Who now says daily masses for Henry's soul? Moreover, full instructions were left by the king fgr the erection of a most magnificent monument to himself and his third, and best-loved consort, Jane Seymour, within the mausoleum so lavishly embellished by Cardinal Wolsey. On the white marble base of this monument, which was intended to be nearly thirty feet high, and adorned with one hundred and thirty-four statues and forty-four bas-reliefs, were to be placed two black touchstone tombs, supporting recumbent figures of the king and queen, not as dead but sleeping, while their epitaphs were to be inscribed in gold letters beneath. Vain injunction ! the splendidly-conceived monument was not even commenced. To resume. All being arranged within the choir, and the thousand great tapers around the catafalque lighted, the effigy of the king was first brought in at the western door of the church by the three gigantic warders, and conveyed by them 234 T^E CONST/fBLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I to the choir ; after which, the coffin was carried by tall yeo- men of the guard down the alley reserved for its passage, the canopy being borne by six lords. The Bishop of Winchester, with other mitred prelates in their copes, marched before it to its receptacle, wherein it was reverently deposited. This done, it was covered with two palls, the first being of black velvet, with a white satin cross upon it, and the other of rich cloth of tissue. The efiigy was then set upon the outer pall. No sooner had the funeral car quitted its station at the western door of the church than the procession, which had been previously marshalled in the Horseshoe Cloisters, began to stream into the sacred edifice. After a throng of knights, bannerets, barons, viscounts, earls, and ambassadors, came the Archbishop of Canterbury in his full robes, and attended by his crosses. After him marched the mourners, two and two, with their hoods over their heads, followed by the chief mourner, who in his turn was followed by Garter in the king's gown, the train of the latter being borne by Sir Anthony Wingfield, vice-chamberlain. On reaching the catafalque, the mourners took up their customary places beside it. Meanwhile, the Bishop of Winchester, on whom, as chief prelate, devolved the performance of the sacred offices, had stationed himself at the high altar, on either side whereon stood the rest of the bishops. The council, with the lord protector at its head, and immediately behind him the lord chancellor, now entered the choir, and seated themselves on either side of it, the Archbishop of Canterbury occupying a place nearest the high altar. The four saints having been set, one at each corner of the catafalque, the Lord Talbot, with the embroidered banner, took a place at his foot. Before him was the standard of the Lion, on the right, the Dragon, and on the left, the Grey- hound. A multitude of other bearers of banners were grouped around the receptacle of the coffin. At this juncture, a movement was heard in the gallery Chap. Xyill] SAINT GEORGE'S CHAPEL 235 above, and the queen -dowager, preceded by two gentlemen ushers, entered the royal closet. Attired in black velvet, and bearing other external symbols of woe, Catherine looked some- what pale, but bore no traces of deep affliction in her coun- tenance. She was attended by the Marchioness of Dorset and her daughter, the Lady Jane Grey, the Countess of Hert- ford, Lady Herbert, and other ladies and gentlewomen, all in deep mourning. Behind appeared a throng of ambassadors and other strangers of distinction. But neither the Princess Mary nor the Princess Elizabeth was present. Moreover, as will have been remarked, the youthful king took no part in the funeral ceremony. As the queen-dowager sat down alone in front of the closet, all the other ladies remaining standing, Norroy ad- vanced, and in his accustomed formula besought their charita- ble prayers for the repose of the departed king's soul. A requiem was next chanted, and mass performed by the Bishop of Winchester and the other prelates. On the conclusion of the service, the whole assemblage quitted the church, leaving the choir vacant of all save the watchers by the body, the number of whom was greatly in- creased. Profuse as had been the display of hospitality at Sion, it was far exceeded at Windsor. A grand banquet was given to the nobles and other distinguished personages in Saint George's Hall, the lord protector, with the council, the mourners, and the ambassadors, occupying seats on the dais. Tables were likewise spread in the various refectories, at which the numerous esquires, captains of the guard, heralds, pursuivants, and others, sat down. The four enormous fire- places in the great kitchen scarcely sufficed to supply the wants of so many guests. Our three giants found their way to the larder, and were well cared for by the yeomen and grooms. Prodigious was the quantity they consumed. Night had far advanced ere the feasting had ended. Even 236 THE C0NSTy4BLE OF THE TOPVER [Book I then there were lingerers at some tables. Much bustle, more- over, still prevailed, not only within but without the Castle. In the courts of both upper and lower wards, yeomen, ushers, grooms, and serving-men of all descriptions, were continually passing and repassing. The terraces, however, were deserted, though the extreme beauty of the night might well have tempted some of the many guests to enjoy a moonlight walk upon them. Towards midnight, a postern door in one of the towers on the south side of the Castle opened, and Sir Thomas Seymour and his esquire issued from it. Both were wrapped in black velvet mantles furred with sable. They proceeded quickly towards the eastern terrace, without pausing to gaze at the glorious prospect of wood and glade that lay stretched out beneath them, and, having made the half circuit of the walls, reached the northern terrace, which was thrown into deep shade, the moon being on the opposite side of the heavens. Far out into the meads below was projected the irregular shadow of the mighty pile, but the silver Thames glittered in the moon- light, and the collegiate church of Eton slumbered peacefully amidst its groves. A holy calm seemed to rest upon the scene, but Seymour refused to yield to its influence. He had other matter in hand, which agitated his soul. Roused by the bell striking midnight, he passed, with his esquire, through an archway communicating with the lower ward, and pro- ceeded to Saint George's Chapel. Making for the lateral door on the left of the Bray Chapel, he found several yeomen of the guard stationed at it, together with two gentlemen ushers belonging to the queen -dowager's suite. On behold- ing the latter, his heart leaped with joy. He knew that Cath- erine was within the church, and he at once entered it with his esquire. The aisles and nave were plunged in gloom, and looked all the more sombre from the contrast they offered to the choir, which was brilliantly illumined. The watchers were stationed around the catafalque; chaplains were standing Chap. XVIW^ SAINT GEORGE'S CHAPEL 237 at the high altar ; and a dirge was being sung by the choris- ters. Halting near a pillar in the south aisle, Seymour despatched Ugo to the choir. After a short absence the esquire returned, and said, '*The queen is there — ^kneeling at the altar beside the coffin. ' ' **I will await her coming forth. Retire, until I summon thee." Full quarter of an hour elapsed ere Seymour's vigilance was rewarded. At the end of that time Catherine issued from the choir. As Sir Thomas expected, she was wholly un- attended, and was proceeding slowly towards the door near the Bray Chapel, when Seymour stepped from behind the pillar, and placed himself in her path. '* Pardon me, Catherine ! pardon me, queen of my heart !" he cried, half prostrating himself before her. Much startled, she would have retired, but he seized her hand and detained her. ** You must — you shall hear me, Catherine," he cried. "Be brief then," she rejoined, **and release my hand." ** I know I do not deserve forgiveness," he cried, "but I know, also, that your nature is charitable, and therefore I venture to hope. Oh ! Catherine, I have recovered from the J5:enzy into which I had fallen, and bitterly repent my folly. You have resumed entire empire over my heart, and never again can be dethroned. ' ' "I do not desire to reign over a heart so treacherous," rejoined Catherine, severely. "You plead in vain, Seymour. Perfidy like yours cannot be pardoned." " Say not so, fair queen," he cried, passionately. " Doom me not to utter despair. Show me how to repair my fault, and I will do it. But condemn me not to worse than death. ' ' " Having proved you false and forsworn, how am I to believe what you now utter? Can I doubt the evidence of my own senses ? Can I forget what I overheard ? ' ' "But I am cured of my madness, I declare to you, Cath- 238 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Booh I erine. My fault shall be atoned by years of devotion. I will submit to any punishment you choose to inflict upon me — so that a hope of ultimate forgiveness be held out. ' * ** Would I could believe you!" sighed the queen. "But no ! — no ! — it must not be. I will not again be deceived." *'0n my soul I do not deceive you!" he cried, pressing her hand to his lips. *' Grant me but another trial, and if I swerve from my present professions of unalterable attachment, cast me off for ever. ' ' There was a slight pause ; after which Catherine said, in a relenting tone, * ' I must have time for reflection. ' * '' Till when ? " he cried, imploringly. "I cannot say. Not till the tomb has closed over Henry will I speak more on this subject. I give you good night, Sir Thomas. ' ' "Good night, fair queen. Heaven grant your decision prove favorable !" exclaimed Seymour, as she departed. And as his esquire cautiously approached him, he said, exultingly, "Vittoria! Ugo, d fatto !" CHAPTER XIX PULVIS PULVERl CINIS CINERl At six o'clock next morn, all the knights companions of the Garter attendant upon the funeral repaired to the revestry of Saint George's Chapel. The assemblage comprised the Lord Protector, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, the Earls of Essex, Arundel, Shrewsbury, and Sussex, the Lords Saint John, Lisle, Abergavenny, and Russell, with Sir John Gage, Sir Anthony Brown, Sir Anthony Wingfield, Sir Anthony St. Leger, and Sir Thomas Cheney. Having arrayed themselves Chap. XIX'\ PULVIS PULVERI, CINIS CINERI 239 in the rich sky-blue mantles of the order, and put on their hoods, they proceeded to the choir to hear matins, and make their oblations. The service was performed by the Dean of Windsor, Doctor Franklin, and the canons. At its conclusion, after divesting themselves of the habits of their order, the knights adjourned to the deanery, where a goodly breakfast had been provided them by the portly dean. During this repast some conversa- tion took place between Doctor Franklin and the lord pro- tector touching a bequest by the late king of certain manors and lands to the dean and canons to the value of six hundred pounds a year — a considerable sum in those days — and the dean respectfully inquired whether he had been rightly in- formed as to the amount. ' 'Ay, forsooth, good master dean, ' ' replied the protector. *'His late majesty — whose soul may Jesu pardon ! — hath by his will left you and your successors lands, spiritual endow- ments, and promotions of the yearly value you mention, but on certain conditions." * ' What may be the conditions, I pray your Highness ? ' ' asked the dean. *' I have not heard them." ''They are these," rejoined the protector. "That you find two priests to say masses at an altar to be erected before his majesty's tomb ; that you hold four solemn obits annually for the repose of his soul within the chapel ; that at every obit, ye bestow ten pounds in alms to the poor; that ye give twelve pence a day to thirteen indigent but deserving persons, who shall be styled Poor Knights, together with gar- ments specified by the will, and an additional payment to the governor of such poor knights. Other obligations there are in the way of sermons and prayers, but these I pretermit. ' ' "His majesty's intentions shall be religiously fulfilled," observed the dean, "and I thank your Highness for the in- formation you have so graciously afforded me. ' * As Henry's tomb, however, was never erected, as we have 240 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I already mentioned, it may be doubted whether the rest of his testamentary instructions were scrupulously executed. While the Knights of the Garter were breakfasting at the deatiery, feasting had recommenced in the various halls and refectories of the Castle. Our giants again found their way to the larder, and broke their fast with collops, rashers, car- bonados, a shield of brawn and mustard, and a noble sirloin of beef, making sad havoc with the latter, and washing down the viands with copious draughts of humming ale. However, the bell began to toll, and at the summons each person concerned in the ceremony hied to Saint George's Chapel. Ere long all were in their places. Around the illumined catafalque within the choir were congregated the mourners in their gowns. The council, with the Archbishop of Canterbury at their head, were seated in the stalls. The Bishop of Winchester, in his full pontificals, with the other prelates, was at the high altar. The queen-dowager was in her closet, with her ladies ranged behind her. No one was absent. Thereupon mass was commenced, at which the bishops officiated. At the close of the requiem, the Marquis of Dor- set advanced to the altar, and, with much humility and rev- erence, offered a piece of gold as the mass-penny ; after which he returned to his place at the head of the corpse. The king's embroidered coat of arms was next delivered by Garter to the Earls of Arundel and Oxford, by whom it was reverently offered to the Bishop of Winchester ; which cere- mony being performed, the coat was placed by Garter on the lesser altar. The royal target was next consigned to the Earls of Derby and Shrewsbury, offered by them to the bishop, and placed beside the coat by the herald. Norroy then presented the king's sword to the Earls of Sussex and Rutland, which was offered and laid upon the altar. Carlisle gave the helm and crest to the same nobleman who had carried the target, and these equipments were offered and placed beside the others. Chap. XIX] PULVIS PULVERl, CINIS CINERI 241 Then occurred the most striking part of the ceremonial. Some commotion was heard in the nave, and those within the choir, who could command this part of the church, which was thronged with various officials, beheld a knightly figure, in complete steel, except the head-piece, and mounted on a black, richly-barbed war-horse, enter the open western door, and ride slowly along the alley preserved by the assemblage. Flaming torches were borne by the foremost ranks of the by- standers on either side, and their light, gleaming on the harness of the knightly figure and the caparisons of his steed, added materially to the effect of the spectacle. The rider was Chidiock Pawlet, King Henry's man-at-arms, a very stal- wart personage, with handsome burly features clothed with a brown, bushy beard. In his hand he carried a pole-axe, with the head downwards. As Pawlet reached the door of the choir, and drew up beneath the arch, all eyes were fixed upon him. It was strange, almost appalling, to behold an eques- trian figure in such a place, and on such an occasion. For a brief space, Pawlet remained motionless as a statue, but his horse snorted and pawed the ground. Then Lord Morley and Lord Dacre advanced, and aided him to alight. Con- signing his steed to a henchman, by whom it was removed, Pawlet next proceeded with the two lords to the altar^ and offered the pole-axe to the bishop, with the head downwards. Gardiner took the weapon, turned the point upwards, and delivered the pole-axe to an officer of arms, who laid it on the altar. Then Richard Pawlet, brother to Chidiock, with four gen- tlemen ushers, brought in each a pall of cloth of gold of bawdkin, which they delivered to Garter and Clarencieux, by whom these palls were placed at the foot of the king's effigy. Hereupon, the emperor's ambassador, with the ambassa- dors of France, Scotland, and Venice, were conducted by the gentlemen ushers to the altar, to make their offering. Then 16 242 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book l the Archbishop of Canterbury, the lord protector, the lord chancellor, and the rest of the council offered. Lastly, Sir Thomas Cheney, treasurer, and Sir John Gage offered. After all the offerings had been made, a pulpit was set directly before the high altar, and the Bishop of Winchester, mounting it, commenced a sermon, taking this text from the Revelations : '*/« diebus Hits, audivi vocem de ccelo, di cent em mihi, Scribe, Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur. A modo jam dicit Spiritus, ut requiescant d laboribus suis. Opera enim illorum sequuntur illos. ' ' A fervid and fluent preacher, Gardiner deeply moved his auditors by his discourse, which was as remarkable for learn- ing as for eloquence. At the close of the sermon the mass proceeded, and as the words '^Verbum c arc factum est^^ were pronounced. Lord Windsor offered the standard of the Lion ; Lord Talbot the standard of the embroidered banner ; and the rest of the standards and banners were offered in their turn. After this, the Dean of Windsor and the canons took the palls which had been placed at the feet of the king's effigy, and conveyed them to the revestry. The image itself was next removed by the three gigantic warders, and carried to the same place. The solemn moment had now arrived. Gardiner and the other officiating prelates descended from the high altar to the catafalque, and the Archbishop of Canterbury took up a station a little behind them with his crosses. The whole choir burst forth with the * ' Circumdederunt me,''' the bishops meanwhile continuing to cense the corpse. Ere the solemn strains had ceased, the mouth of the vault opened, and the coffin slowly descended into the sepulchre. Thus vanished from the sight of men all that was left of a great monarch. Amid the profound silence .that ensued, Gardiner advanced to the mouth of the vault. He was followed by all the chief officers of the household — namely, the lord great master, the Chap. XIX'\ PULVIS PULVERI, CINIS CINERI 243 lord chamberlain of the household, the treasurer, comptroller, gentleman porter, and the four gentlemen ushers. These personages carried their staves and rods, and ranged them- selves around the aperture. Earth being brought to the bishop, he cast it into the sepulchre, and when he had pronounced the words *^ Pulvis pulveriy cinis cineri^ ' ' Lord Saint John broke his staff over his head, exclaiming dolefully, as he threw the pieces into the vault, "Farewell to the greatest of kings !" The Earl of Arundel next broke his staff, crying out with a lamentable voice, ' * Farewell to the wisest and justest prince in Christendom, who had ever England's honor at heart !" Sir John Gage next shivered his staff, exclaiming in ac- cents of unaffected grief, * * Farewell to the best of masters, albeit the sternest ! ' * Like sorrowful exclamations were uttered by William Knevet, the gentleman porter, and the gentlemen ushers, as they broke their rods. There was something inexpressibly affecting in the de- struction of these symbols of office, and the casting the frag- ments into the pit. Profound silence prevailed during the ceremony, but at its close a universal sigh broke from the assemblage. At this moment. Sir Thomas Seymour, who was standing in a part of the choir commanding the queen's closet, looked up. Catherine had covered her face with her handkerchief, and was evidently weeping. De profundis was then solemnly chanted, amidst which the chasm was closed. At the conclusion of the hymn. Garter, attended by Claren- cieux, Carlisle, and Norroy, advanced to the centre of the choir, and with a loud voice proclaimed, '^Almighty God, of His infinite goodness, give good life and long to the most high and mighty prince, our sovereign lord, Edward VI., by the grace of God King of England, France, and Ireland, 244 7'//£ CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Booh I Defender of the Faith, and in earth, under God, of the Church of England and Ireland, the Supreme Head and Sov- ereign, of the most noble Order of the Garter. ' ' This proclamation made, he shouted lustily, '*Vive le noble roi Edouard!" All the assemblage joined in the shout, which was thrice repeated. Then the trumpeters stationed in the rood-loft blew a loud and courageous blast, which resounded through the pile. So ended the obsequies of the right high and puissant king Henry VIII. Thus far the First book BOOK II THE LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND CHAPTER I HOW EDWARD PASSED HIS TIME WHILE LEFT TO HIMSELF WITHIN THE TOWER The three days devoted to the solemnization of Henry's obsequies were passed by his son in strictest privacy at the Tower. The freedom from restraint afforded the youthful monarch by the absence of his court was especially agreeable to him at this juncture. Not only had he to mourn for his father, but to prepare, as he desired to do by meditation and prayer, for the solemn ceremony in which he himself would soon be called upon to play the principal part. The near approach of his coronation, which was fixed for the Sunday after the funeral, filled him with anxious thought. It might naturally be supposed that one so young as Edward would be dazzled by the magnificence of the show, and lose sight of its real import ; but such was not the case with the devout and serious-minded prince, who, as we have already shown, possessed a gravity of character far beyond his years, and had been too well instructed not to be fully aware of the nature of the solemn promises he would have to make to his people while assuming the crown. Daily did he petition Heaven that he might adequately discharge his high and important duties, and in no wise abuse the power committed to him, but might exercise it wisely and beneficently, to the maintenance and extension of true reli- gion, and to the welfare and happiness of his subjects. Above all, he prayed that he might be made the instrument of estab- lishing the Protestant Church on a secure foundation ; of delivering it entirely from its enemies ; and purifying it from the idolatries and superstitious practices that still clung to it. 247 248 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book It The bustle and confusion lately prevailing within the Tower had now ceased. All the nobles and important per- sonages who had flocked thither to do homage to the young king, had departed, taking with them their troops of attend- ants. The courts were emptied of the crowd of esquires and pages who had recently thronged them. No merry hubbub was heard ; but, on the contrary, a general gloom pervaded the place. Orders had been given by the king that the three days of his father's funeral were to be observed as a period of deep mourning, and consequently every countenance wore an ex- pression of grief — whether simulated or not, it is needless to inquire. Edward and all his household were habited in weeds of woe, and their sable attire and sad looks contributed to the sombre appearance of the place. Ushers and hench- men moved about like ghosts. Festivity there was none, or if there were, it was discreetly kept out of the king's sight. Edward's time was almost entirely passed in devotional exer- cises. He prayed in secret, listened to long homilies from his chaplain, discoursed on religious matters with his tutors, and regularly attended the services performed for the repose of his father's soul within Saint John's Chapel. Built in the very heart of the White Tower, and accounted one of the most perfect specimens of Norman architecture extant, the beautiful chapel dedicated to Saint John the Evan- gelist might still be beheld in all its pristine perfection, were it not so encumbered by presses and other receptacles of state records, that even partial examination of its architectural beauties is almost out of the question. Consisting of a nave with a semicircular termination at the east, and two narrow side aisles, separated from the body of the fabric by twelve circular pillars of massive proportion, this ancient shrine also possesses a gallery reared above the aisles, with wide semicircular-headed openings, looking into the nave. The ceiling is coved, and the whole building is Chap. /] EDIVARD^S OCCUPATIOJ^S 249 remarkable for extreme solidity and simplicity. It has long since been despoiled of its sacred ornaments, and applied to baser uses, but as most of our early monarchs performed their devotions within it while sojourning at the Tower, that circumstance alone, which confers upon it a strong historical interest, ought to save it from neglect and dese- cration. During the three days in question, masses were constantly said within the chapel. The pillars were covered with black cloth, and decked with pensils and escutcheons, while ban- ners were hung from the arched openings of the gallery. Tall tapers burned before the altar, which was richly adorned with jewels, images, crucifixes, and sacred vessels. Edward never failed to attend these services, and was always accompanied by his tutors, to whom, as zealous Re- formers, many of the rites then performed appeared highly objectionable. But as masses for the repose of his soul had been expressly enjoined by the late king's will, nothing could be urged against them at this moment, and the two preceptors were obliged to content themselves with silent disapproval. Though sharing their feelings, reverence for his father's memory kept Edward likewise silent. Some observations, however, which he chanced to make while returning from mass on the third day, gave an opportunity to Sir John Cheke of condemning the practice of image-worship which was still tolerated. '* Those Romish idols are an abomination in my sight," he cried, ^'and I hope to see our temples cleared of them, and of all pictures that have been abused by heathenish wor- ship. The good work has begun, for I have heard this very day that the curate of Saint Martin's, in Ironmonger Lane, has caused all the images and pictures to be removed from his church, and texts from Scripture to be painted on the walls. Peradventure, the man may be over-zealous, yet I can scarce blame him." 250 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER {Book II *'He has but anticipated my own intentions," observed Edward; ''our temples shall no longer be profaned by false worship." ''Right glad am I to hear your Majesty say so," rejoined Cheke. " Under your gracious rule, I trust, the Romish mis- sals and mass-books will be entirely abolished, and a liturgy in the pure language of Scripture substituted. Uniformity of doctrine and worship, uniformity of habits and ceremonies, abandonment of the superstitious and idolatrous rites of Rome, and a return to the practices of the Primitive Christian Church — these are what we of the Reformed Church seek for — these are what, under a truly Protestant king like your Majesty, we are sure to obtain. ' ' " Fully to extirpate the pernicious doctrines of Rome, conformity among the clergy must be made compulsory," observed Cox ; " otherwise, there will always be danger to the well-doing of the Protestant Church. I do not desire to recommend severe measures to your Majesty, but coercion must be applied. ' ' "I hope it will not be needed, good doctor," observed Edward. " I desire not to commence my reign with perse- cution." "Heaven forbid that I should counsel it, sire!" replied the doctor. " Far rather would I that your reign should be distinguished for too much clemency than severity; but a grand object has to be attained, and we must look to the end rather than to the means. Strong efforts, no doubt, will be made by the Bishop of Rome to regain his ascendancy, and the adherents of the old doctrine, encouraged by the removal of the powerful hand that has hitherto controlled them, will strive to recover what they have lost. Hence there is much danger to the Protestant Church, of which your Majesty is the supreme head, and this can only be obviated by the com- plete repression of the Popish party. Much further reform is needed, and this, to be thoroughly efficacious, ought to be Chap. /] EDIVARD'S OCCUPATIONS 251 proceeded with without delay, ere the adverse sect can have time to recruit its forces. ' ' ' he impatiently awaited the summons of the council. It was brought by the constable of the Tower in person, who came with a guard to conduct him to the lieutenant's lodgings, where the council were assembled. Sir John looked grave and stern, and de- clined to answer any questions put to him. After a short detention in the ante-room, Seymour was taken into the large wainscoted chamber already described, where he found all the members of the council, with the ex- ception of Cranmer, seated round a table covered with green cloth. Before them were piles of letters and other papers, which he knew at a glance related to himself. At the upper end of the table sat the Earl of Warwick, with the Earl of Southampton on his right hand, and Lord Russell on his left. The countenances of the assemblage boded him little good. But Seymour was not to be daunted by the stern and menacing looks fixed upon him. Standing between two halberdiers, he surveyed the assemblage with a glance of defiance, and making a haughty inclination to them, drew himself up to his full height. ** My lord," said Warwick, **we trust — though your proud and assured deportment seems scarcely to warrant such a conclusion — that the confinement you have undergone has wrought in you a penitent spirit, and that you are prepared to confess the heinous off'ences and treasons of which you have been guilty — ^and of which we may tell you we have proof — and throw yourself upon your offended sovereign's mercy. ' ' ' ' I have nothing to confess, my lord, ' ' rejoined the admiral, sternly. ** I have been guilty of no crimes !" ' ' We have the depositions of various witnesses against Chap. /] SHARINGTON CONFRONTS SEYMOUR 435 you," said Warwick. "They shall be read, and you can then disprove them, if you have the power. ' ' '* I demand an open trial," rejoined Seymour. " I refuse to answer any interrogations which you, my Lord of Warwick, or your colleagues, may put to me, knowing you to be my mortal enemies." " Do you venture to impugn the justice of the council?" said Warwick. *'I do," rejoined Seymour. "You may spare yourselves the trouble of reading those depositions to me. I shall not reply to them." "We will find a way to move you, if you continue thus stubborn, my lord," remarked Southampton. "The rack may make you speak. ' * "Not if you turn the wheel yourself, my lord, with as much zeal as you did against poor Anne Askew," retorted Seymour. "How know I by what means these depositions against me have been procured ? Let my accusers be con- fronted with me, and we shall then see whether they will maintain their charges to my face. ' * "We might well refuse your demand," replied Warwick. " But to prove that we are not so inimical as you represent us, it shall be granted. Let Sir William Sharington be brought in. ' ' After a short pause, the unfortunate master of the mint was introduced by a side door. Wholly unable to walk without support, he had to be accommodated with a chair. He gave a terrified and half-imploring look at the admiral, and then cast down his eyes. "Sir William Sharington," said Warwick, "you have already confessed that you have coined ten thousand pounds of false money, and clipped coin to the extent of forty thou- sand pounds. At whose instigation, and for whose benefit, did you commit these offences ? * ' "Before you answer. Sir William," cried Seymour, " I de- sire you will look me straight in the face." 436 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOiVER [Book IV ** Speak !" cried Warwick, **and declare the truth." *'I cannot speak," said Sharington, quailing beneath the admiral's terrible gaze. ** His glances pierce into my soul." **You have wrung this confession from him by torture," cried Seymour. ** He has accused me to save himself. Is it not so. Sir William?" ** Do not let him intimidate you, sir, but avow the truth," said Warwick. " You cannot deny your own confession." ** Was it not extorted by the rack? " cried Seymour. * 'Ay, marry was it, ' ' replied Sharington ; ' * else I had con- fessed nothing. I pray you forgive me, my lord, for what I have done." ** I freely forgive you," rejoined the admiral, ** though you have placed a weapon against me in the hands of my enemies. But they cannot use it now. ' ' * * The council cannot be trifled with in this manner, sir, * * observed Southampton to the master of the mint. *'Are the charges you have made against Lord Seymour true, or false ? Answer ! ' ' ** Take me hence, and place me again upon the rack, if you will," cried Sharington. ** I would rather die than submit to these interrogations." *'Thou wilt die by the hangman's hand, thou false and equivocating knave!" cried Warwick. ''But we have thy confession — signed by thine own hand — and that is enough. Take him hence ! " he added to the guard. And, much to his own relief, the unfortunate man was re- moved. " Your first accusation falls to the ground, my lords," said Seymour, triumphantly. "And I doubt not all the rest will do so." ' ' Do not delude yourself with any such notion, my lord, ' ' said Southampton. '^ We are all satisfied of the truth of Sir William Sharington' s confession, and it is sufficient to con- demn you. But your crimes are manifold, as they are Chap. /] SHARINGTON CONFRONTS SEYMOUR 437 heinous. Thirty-six articles of high treason and other mis- demeanors against the Crown will be exhibited against you. You are charged with using all your natural influence over our youthful sovereign's mind to dissatisfy him with the gov- ernment, and to get the control of affairs into your own hands — with corrupting by bribes certain gentlemen of the privy-chamber and others — with promising his majesty's hand in marriage — ^with endeavoring to obtain possession of his person^ to the infinite peril of the realm — with confederating with divers disaffected noblemen and gentlemen — with secretly raising an army of ten thousand men, and providing money and supplies for that force for one month. You are also charged with putting your castle of Holt, in Denbighshire, into a state of defence, with providing it with a strong garrison and stores of war, with fortifying your castle of Sudley, in Gloucestershire, and with possessing yourself of the strong and dangerous Isles of Scilly, to which you purposed to re- treat. All this you have done with the design of exciting rebellion, and causing civil war. In addition to these atro- cious crimes, you are charged with others of a more dishonor- able nature, and which must stamp your name with perpetual infamy. Not only are you taxed with inciting and abetting the gigantic frauds perpetrated by Sir William Sharington, but it is objected against you, and can be proved, that you have abused the high office with which you have been intrusted by extorting money from merchantmen under various false pleas and pretences, by seizing upon wrecks and refusing restitution to the rightful owners, and by conspiring with pirates and sharing their plunder. To this long catalogue of offences, it may be added that you have secretly attempted to obtain the hand in marriage of his majesty's sister, the Princess Eliza- beth, second inheritor of the crown, well knowing that such marriage would be against the late king's will, and could not be contracted without consent of the council. What answer make you to these charges ? ' ' 438 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iBooklV ** I deny them all," replied Seymour, boldly. **Your denial will avail nothing. We have damnatory proofs against you. We have the statements of Ugo Har- rington, the wretched man slain by you — the depositions of the Marquis of Dorset — of Fowler, of the privy -chamber — of Hombeak, Blades, and other pirates with whom you have conspired, and who are now lodged in the Fleet — ^and of the Princess Elizabeth's governess. Mistress Ashley. Of the long list of offences with which you are charged, there is not one but can be proved. ' ' *' Still I repeat my emphatic denial of them all," said the admiral. '*I will answer every accusation brought against me, but not here. I demand an open trial, and, in justice, you cannot refuse it. ' ' ** Crimes of such magnitude as yours cannot be publicly discussed with safety to the state," rejoined Southampton. "Following the precedents afforded in such cases during the late reign, a bill of attainder will be brought against you. " **In other words, you mean to destroy me," interrupted Seymour. * * I am to be condemned unheard. Finish this mockery of justice, and sentence me at once to the block." " If you are convicted of your crimes, my lord, your sen- tence will follow quickly enough," observed Warwick — " more quickly perchance than you may desire. The articles of treason objected against you shall be left with you, and you can answer them as you see fit. This is all the grace we deign to confer. We are satisfied of your guilt, and your bold denial of the charges does not shake our conviction. Ever since your royal nephew came to the throne you have been plotting and contriving for increase of power, and if Heaven had not thwarted them, infinite danger to the king's person, and subversion of the whole state of the realm, might have fol- lowed your traitorous designs. We can hold out no hope to you. Leze-majesty and other high crimes and misde- Chap, II] SEYMOUR IVRITES TO ELIZABETH 439 meanors have been proved against you, and you will meet a traitor's doom." ** I will meet my death resolutely, come how or when it may," rejoined Seymour. **I spared your life, my Lord of Warwick, when you were in my power, and it is thus you requite me. Your aim is to destroy me. But you will fail. The king will not see me perish. ' ' ** The king cannot pardon a convicted traitor," said War- wick. ** Once more, do you persist in your refusal to answer our interrogations ? ' ' ** Resolutely," said Seymour. "Then the examination need be no further continued," pursued Warwick. ** Let the prisoner be removed. Sir John. ' ' On this, the admiral was withdrawn, and taken back to the Bowyer Tower. CHAPTER II BY WHOSE AID THE ADMIRAL SENT A LETTER TO THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH Three days after the examination just described, Seymour was visited in his cell by the Earl of Warwick and some others of the council, who came to receive his answers to the articles of impeachment. He had cautiously limited himself, it ap- peared, to a few brief rejoinders, explanatory of his motives for supplying the king with money, and bestowing presents upon Fowler and other grooms of the chamber. To the more serious charges a simple and emphatic denial was all he deigned to return. Throughout this second interview, Seymour conducted him- self with the same spirit and determination which he had heretofore evinced. No menaces could shake him. Per- 440 THE COmTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Booh IF emptorily refusing to answer the articles in detail, and object- ing even to sign the short rejoinders he had made, he persisted in his demand for an open trial, and inveighed against the secret and inquisitorial examinations to which he was sub- jected, declaring that he would answer no more interroga- tions. Thereupon Warwick and the others left him. Shortly after this, the bill of attainder was brought into the House of Lords, and passed without delay. When trans- mitted to the Commons, it encountered strenuous opposition at first, but this was overruled by the lord protector's influ- ence, and the bill likewise passed the Lower House. But not without considerable persuasion from the council, in which even Cranmer joined, was the royal assent obtained. This was given on the loth of March, 1549. Seymour had been now nearly two months a prisoner in the Tower. Though his fortitude remained unshaken, his proud and impatient spirit chafed sorely against his confinement. No one was allowed to see him unless with a written order from the constable of the Tower, and then only in the pres- ence of the gaoler. Apprehensions being entertained lest he might find means of secretly conveying a letter to his royal nephew, the writing materials which had been left with him, when it was hoped he might answer the articles of impeach- ment, were removed. No entreaties or promises could pre- vail upon Tombs to supply him with them again. Cut off from communication with the outer world ; de- prived of all books, save a few godly tracts left with him by Latimer, by whom he was occasionally visited, and who pro- nounced him in a most sinful, hardened, and deplorable con- dition; devoured by ambition; tormented by an incurable passion; the admiral, it will easily be imagined, passed his time wretchedly enough. Still, he was true to himself; still, he continued haughty and unyielding. On the night of that unlucky day when the bill of at- tainder received the royal assent, of which circumstance he Chap, //] SEYMOUR IVRITES TO ELIZABETH 441 was informed by Tombs, he remained seated beside his table to a late hour, with his face covered by his hands. All at once a noise, proceeding, as it seemed, from a loop- hole some feet from the ground, caused him to raise his eyes, and to his great astonishment he beheld, by the dim light of the iron lamp illumining the cell, a diminutive figure standing within the aperture. While he was staring at this apparition, the little personage called out : '**Tis I, my lord — Xit, his majesty's somewhile dwarf. Aid me to descend, I beseech you. An I leap I shall break my neck, and that is not a death I desiderate. ' ' On this, Seymour advanced towards the aperture, and catching the dwarf, who sprang towards him, in his arms, set him on the ground. ** What brings thee here ? " said the admiral. ** Know'st thou not it is as much as thy life is worth to visit me thus privily?" ** I know that right well, my lord," replied Xit ; ** and I have adventured my life to serve you. Your generosity to- wards me demanded a return, and I determined to prove my gratitude. Having been discharged from my post near his majesty by the lord protector, because he found out that I had conveyed messages to your lordship, I have once more be- come an inmate of the Tower, and now lodge with the three giant warders. It was by the aid of Og, the elder of the brethren, that I obtained admission to your cell. He placed me on his shoulders, whence I clambered to yon loophole; and though it was no easy matter, even for one of my slender proportions, I contrived to squeeze myself through the bars. Og is standing outside to aid me on my return." *' I owe thee much for thy fidelity," replied Seymour, greatly touched by the dwarfs devotion. ** Of all who have profited by my bounty, thou art the only one who has ex- hibited gratitude. But how dost thou propose to aid me ? ' ' '* I thought your Lordship might desire to have some letter 442 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book IV or message conveyed for you, and as I knew Master Tombs would neither do your will, nor allow it to be done, I have come thus privily to offer myself as your messenger. ' ' * * I am much beholden to thee, ' ' said Seymour. * * I have not the means of writing a letter, or I would confide one to thee. My tablets are left me, but I have neither pen nor pencil.'* "That is most unlucky," said Xit. "But I will come again — ^and better provided ! ' ' "Stay!" cried Seymour; "a plan occurs to me. This point shall answer my purpose. ' * And plucking a sharp aglet from his dress, he punctured his arm with it, and proceeded to trace a few passionate words with his blood on a leaf of the tablets. This done, he closed the book, tied it with a ribbon, and gave it to Xit. * * Deliver this, I pray thee, to the Princess Elizabeth, ' ' he said. " Guard it as thy life. Hast thou any knowledge where her highness now is ? " " I have heard that she is at Shene," replied Xit. " If so, I will engage that your lordship's missive shall be delivered into her own hands to-morrow morning. ' ' " Thou wilt do me the greatest possible service," cried the admiral. "Whatever betide, let me see thee again on the morning of my execution. I may have another letter or message for thee. ' * ' ' I will not fail, ' ' replied Xit. Seymour was about to tear some ornament from his attire in order to reward his little envoy, when Xit stopped him, saying he would accept nothing till he had executed his mission. "I must now entreat your Lordship's aid to reach the loop- hole," he said. On this, Seymour lifted him from the ground, and the ascent was quickly and safely accomplished. This done, Xit pressed his hand to his heart in token of devotion, and disappeared. Chap. Ill} ELIZABETH IN SEYMOUR^S CEU 443 CHAPTER III HOW THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH VISITED THE ADMIRAL IN HIS CELL On the following day, the admiral was again visited by Latimer, who strove, but ineffectually, to bend his haughty spirit and bring him to a state of penitence. Not being in a mood to listen to homilies, Seymour impatiently interrupted the divine, and bade him leave him in peace. Finding all his efforts fruitless, Latimer desisted, and took his departure, recommending the obdurate man to make his peace with Heaven, for his time was short. Again night arrived. Seymour was pacing his cell, full of gloomy thought, when the door was unbarred, and the con- stable of the Tower entered. But not alone. He was at- tended by a young personage wrapped in an ample velvet mantle, whose features were so muffled up that by the dim light of the lamp it was difficult to determine whether they belonged to youth or maiden. But though the gaoler and others might have been deceived by this disguise, Seymour was not. He instantly recognized his beloved Elizabeth, and springing towards her, cried out, "Oh! you are come, princess ! — you are come ! " while she, throwing off her dis- guise, and disregarding the presence of the constable, flung herself into his arms. Their first transports of delight had scarcely subsided, and they were still gazing at each other with unutterable fondness, almost unconscious where they were, when Sir John Gage deemed it necessary to interfere, and remind them that their interview must be brief. ''I am disobeying the lord protector and the council in 444 7'//E CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book I i^ allowing this visit,'* he said; **but I could not resist the princess's entreaties. However, I cannot give you many minutes. During that time I will remain outside. ' ' On this, he withdrew, and closed the door after him. **0h! Seymour!" exclaimed Elizabeth, looking passion- ately at him, "with what mingled feelings of rapture and anguish do I behold you again ! When last we parted I thought you would return to me in triumph, and demand my hand. And now ! Oh ! this is more than I can bear ! ' ' And she burst into a passionate flood of tears. *'Calm yourself, dearest Elizabeth,'* said Seymour. *' Your grief unmans me, and I have need of all my firm- ness. ' ' ** Yes, I will be calm," she rejoined. " I will smile and be cheerful, though my heart is breaking. Oh ! ' ' and she placed her hand upon her bosom — " think not that I have been in- different to you, Seymour. No tongue can tell the anguish I have endured since your arrest. But the protector's vigi- lance rendered it impossible for me to write to you, or convey any message, neither have I been permitted to see the king — or even to write to him — so that I could not plead in your behalf. The dreadful news of yesterday — that Edward had given his assent to the bill of attainder — had just reached me, and overwhelmed me with grief, when your faithful little mes- senger found me out, and delivered your tablets. Then I was resolved at all hazards to see you. Heedless of consequences, I left Shene this afternoon with the trusty dwarf, who served me with the utmost devotion, and through his agency ob- tained admittance to Sir John Gage, who, while blaming my rashness, yielded at length to my entreaties, and brought me hither." *' Heaven bless him for it!" exclaimed Seymour. '*He has given me more happiness than I ever expected on earth. The thought of this meeting will cheer me on the scaffold. ' ' *' You shall not die, Seymour," shrieked Elizabeth. '* 'Tis Chap. Ill] ELIZABETH IN SEYMOUR'S CELL 445 horrible to think that a foul and murtherous caitiff should disfigure a godlike form like yours, and sever such a head from such a frame ! No — no — it cannot — shall not be. I will intercede for you with Edward. I know he loves me, and I think he will yield to my entreaties, and spare youi life." *' He loved me once, too," said Seymour, bitterly. ** But my enemies have turned his heart from me by their calumnies. Whatever his will may be, Edward cannot save me. The lord protector and the council control him, and they are bent, it is plain, on my destruction." ' ' Then I will go to fhem, ' ' cried Elizabeth. * * I will plead for you on my knees. They cannot refuse me.** Seymour shook his head. '* Such an avowal of your love for me will be to them an additional motive for my destruction,'* he said. ''What is to be done?" cried Elizabeth, distractedly. *' You must not — shall not die." At this moment the door of the cell opened, and Sir John Gage stepped in. '* It grieves me to interrupt you," he said, in accents of profound sympathy. '*But the moment of separation is arrived. You must part forever." "Not forever, Sir John!" cried Elizabeth. "I shall bring Lord Seymour a pardon. The king my brother, the lord protector, and the council, will listen to my prayers." ''Indulge no false hopes, princess," said Gage. **The lord protector and the council are inexorable. ' ' ' ' Then I will not go hence, ' * shrieked Elizabeth. " I will stay here and die with him. ' ' "Princess, I pray you, come with me," cried the con- stable. " I will not go," she rejoined, clinging desperately to Sey- mour. " Hold me fast, my loved lord ! — hold me fast ! Let nim not tear me hence !" 446 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [Book IV *' Do not forget yourself, princess, I implore you ! " cried the constable. ** Do not compel me to employ force." ** Stand off, Sir John!" cried Elizabeth, impetuously. *' Stand off, I command you ! Hear what I have to say, and let it abide in your recollection. I here solemnly affiance myself before Heaven to Lord Seymour, and I register a vow that if he be put to death by his brother, I will wed no other man. ' ' '* Retract this rash oath, princess, I implore you," said the constable. * * Hereafter, in calmer moments, you will rue it. ' ' '* Never," rejoined Elizabeth, emphatically. " Heaven so help me, as I keep it religiously." ** I have not merited this love," cried Seymour, in a voice suffocated by emotion. '* But the cup of happiness is pre- sented to me only to be dashed from my lips. ' ' ** My lord," said the constable to Seymour, ** it rests with you to put an end to this painful scene. To prolong it will but increase your distress. The princess must go hence. ' ' "Will you have it so?" cried Elizabeth, still clinging fondly to him. ** It must be," he rejoined, despairingly. ** One last em- brace," he added, straining her to his bosom. "Take her, good Sir John." Elizabeth made no further opposition. Half fainting, she almost fell from his arms. Hastily enveloping her in the mantle, and wrapping the couvre-chef about her head, the constable led her towards the door. Before going forth, she cast one farewell look at Seymour, who stood as if transfixed by despair. The clangor of the closing door roused him from this stupor. The pang he felt was intolerable. With a wild cry he threw himself on his pallet. Death could have no greater bitterness for him. Chap, /K] THE DEATH-H^ARRA^iT SIGNED 447 CHAPTER IV HOW THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH INTERCEDED FOR THE AD- MIRAL WITH THE KING; AND HOW THE DEATH-WAR- RANT WAS SIGNED Notwithstanding the endeavors of Sir John Gage to dis- suade her from the attempt, and the assurances of the worthy constable that it would be fruitless, Elizabeth was resolved to solicit the admiral's pardon from the king, and by her tears and entreaties succeeded in wringing consent from Gage to procure her an interview with her royal brother. Accordingly, on the following day, the constable met her at the entrance of the palace of Whitehall, and conducted her to the royal apartments. Had the princess not been thus at- tended she would have been refused admittance; but the authority of Sir John Gage, as comptroller of the household, was sufficient to procure her ingress, and they reached the ante-chamber without obstruction. The princess's unexpected appearance filled the pages and henchmen there assembled with surprise and consternation, and the chief usher advancing towards her, and making her a profound obeisance, informed her gravely, but with much respect, that it was impossible she could see the king at this moment. '* But I a//// see him," she cried, resolutely. ** No blame shall attach to you, sir — I will take it on myself. ' ' '* Pardon me, gracious princess, if I am compelled to refuse you admittance," rejoined the usher. "The lord protector and the council are now deliberating amongst themselves in an adjoining chamber, and as soon as their consultation is ended they will return to his majesty." 448 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Bookie The significant look given by the usher to Sir John Gage did not escape Elizabeth. '* They are deliberating about the lord admiral's execution. Is it not so ? — speak ! ' ' *^ Your Highness has guessed right," replied the usher, re- luctantly. *'Then I must see the king my brother without delay," cried the princess. **I guess your object, gracious lady, and would willingly further it," said the usher, in a tone of deep sympathy ; " but I dare not disobey my orders. ' ' ' ' Is his majesty alone ? ' * inquired the constable. ''He is. Sir John," answered the usher. *'The Bishop of Ely and Doctor Latimer have just left him. But the lord protector and the council may return at any moment, and then—" ' ' You hear, princess ? ' ' said the constable. ''I do," she replied. *' But you promised to bring me to the king. I call upon you to make good your word. ' ' *'Nay, then, I must needs comply," returned the consta- ble. *'You shall not suffer for this, sir, with the lord pro- tector, ' ' he added to the usher ; * ' the fault is mine, and I will bear the blame. There is no need to announce her highness. ' ' With this, he took Elizabeth's hand, and led her on. The doors were thrown open, and they entered a spacious cham- ber, at the upper end of which Edward was discovered, seated beside a table. A book was open before him, but it was evi- dent he was not engaged in its perusal. On seeing Elizabeth he arose, and advanced slowly to meet her. He was magnificently attired in a jerkin of cloth of gold raised with purple velvet and tissue, over which he wore a purple velvet gown, embroidered with gold, and lined and trimmed with ermine. His cap was of black velvet, richly ornamented with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, Chap. /K] THE DEATH -IV ARRANT SIGNED 449 and having a white feather in it, inclining towards the right ear. His splendor, however, accorded ill with his looks. He moved feebly, and looked pale, careworn, and unhappy. Never before had he greeted Elizabeth as he greeted her now. In a sharp, almost angry voice, he demanded why she came there, and how she had obtained admittance. '* It is my fault, sire," interposed the constable. ** I have ventured to disobey orders. ' ' "Then you have done wrong — ^very wrong. Sir John. Know you not ? ' ' And he suddenly stopped. ** I know it all, sire," said Elizabeth, casting herself at his feet. * ' I come as a suppliant for the admiral, and will not quit this posture till you consent to spare him. ' ' *'Alas ! Elizabeth," rejoined Edward, sadly, *'you ask a grace which it is impossible for me to bestow. My unhappy uncle is attainted and condemned by the Parliament, and I have been compelled, though sorely against my will, to ratify the sentence. The high crimes and misdemeanors of which he has been guilty leave him no hope of pardon." '*No hope, sire!" cried Elizabeth. "Oh, say not so. One word from you will save him. Pronounce it, royal brother, for my sake — for the sake of your future peace, for your breast will never be free from remorse if you suffer him to perish. ' ' "I have not judged my uncle," said Edward. "He has been justly condemned. His terrible designs were happily frustrated, but if they had succeeded, the whole state would have been subverted, the kingdom devastated by civil war, and I myself perchance driven from the throne — to make way for him." "These are the charges of the admiral's enemies, sire," rejoined Elizabeth. ' ' He has had no opportunity of disproving them, for an open trial, which he demanded, was refused him. His aim was to free your Majesty, to whom he is devoted, from the thraldom in which you are placed. For 29 450 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER iBook IV this he is to be sacrificed. But no, sire, you will not do it. Your noble and generous nature must revolt at such injustice. You will not aid the lord protector in his fratri- cidal schemes." '* Peace, Elizabeth ; you go too far." *'No, sire, I speak the truth, and it shall out. Nothing but his brother's life will content the Duke of Somerset. 'Tis he who, by his artful misrepresentations, has steeled your breast against your once-loved uncle — 'tis he who has procured this bill of attainder against him — who has stifled his cries — and would now force you to aid him in the work of destruction. Is not the admiral bound to you by ties of near relationship? Will you sunder those ties? Will you allow the lord protector to imbrue his hands in his brother's blood, and compel you to share bis guilt ? Have patience with me, sire. I am half distracted. ' ' ''What mean these passionate supplications, Elizabeth? You plead for him as for a husband. ' ' '' He is almost my husband, sire. I have affianced myself to him." '* Ha !" exclaimed Edward, with a look of displeasure. ' ' You have hurt your cause by that admission, ' ' whispered the constable. ' ' I am sorry to hear what you tell me, Elizabeth, because such a marriage never could take place. 'Tis against our royal father's will. You must reconcile yourself to the ad- miral's fate." * ' Then your Majesty is resolved to destroy him ? ' ' cried the princess. ''Justice must take its course," rejoined Edward, somewhat sternly. " Heaven knows how dearly I loved my uncle. Lord Seymour," he continued, in a more softened tone; "but I have been greatly deceived by him. His true character has been revealed to me — not by the lord protector, whom you unjustly charge with sinister designs — ^but by others. ' ' Chap. IV] THE DEATH-JVARRANT SIGNED 45^^ ''By whom, sire?" ''By Archbishop Cranmer — by the Bishop of Ely — ^by Doctor Latimer. He is restless, turbulent, dangerous — too restless and too dangerous to be spared. I would he could be brought to a better frame of mind, for I hear he refuses all religious instruction and consolation. ' ' ' ' Then cut him not off in a state of sin, sire. Give him time for repentance. ' ' " 'Tis for the council, not for me, to appoint the time of execution," replied Edward, sadly. "The council should obey you, sire — not you them. But if you will not grant him a free pardon — at least spare his life. Doom him to exile — to imprisonment — but not to the block." ' ' His crimes are of too deep a dye to allow of any leniency, " responded Edward. "Then I have done, sire," cried Elizabeth, rising. "Heaven grant you the pardon which you refuse to him." At this rnoment, the doors were thrown open, and an usher entered, announcing the lord protector and the council. It was now too late for Elizabeth to retire, but so far from being intimidated by the frowns of Somerset, she replied by glances as menacing as his own, "I would counsel you to withdraw, princess," he said, sternly. "I thank your Highness," she rejoined, "but I design to remain here." " Nay, stay if you will," he answered. " I meant but to spare your feelings. ' ' On the entrance of the council, Edward moved slowly towards a chair of state placed beneath a canopy, and took his seat upon it. The lord protector, followed by the Earls of Warwick and Southampton, then advanced towards him. In his hand Somerset held a parchment, the sight of which chilled the life-blood in Elizabeth's veins. She knew it to be the admiral's death-warrant. 452 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book ly **Sire," said Somerset, *' after due deliberation, the coun- cil has decided that the execution shall take place to-morrow morning on Tower-hill." At this dread announcement, Elizabeth with difficulty re- pressed a scream. *'So soon!" exclaimed Edward. ** 'Twere better he should live a few days longer. 'Twill give him more time for repentance." ' ' Such grace would little profit him, sire, while there are many cogent reasons why the execution should not be de- ferred," rejoined the duke. '* Can aught be advanced in mitigation of his sentence ? " demanded Edward. '* Nothing, sire, or I should be the first to suggest it." He then called for a pen, and offering the warrant to the king, pressed him to sign it. ' ' Cannot my signature be dispensed with ? ' ' rejoined Ed- ward, averting his head. " He is my uncle, and I like not to doom him thus." * ' He is also my brother, ' ' rejoined Somerset. ' * Yet I shall not hesitate to sign the warrant. A few strokes of the pen, sire, and it is done," he continued, again proffering the warrant. *'But those few strokes will destroy one whom I have dearly loved — and whom I still love," cried Edward. *'l cannot do it. " And he burst into tears. *' Heaven be praised, his heart is touched ! He will spare him ! " muttered Elizabeth. ''If this opportunity passes by, our prey will escape," whispered Warwick. ** Be firm, sire," said the protector. *' You must not yield to this weakness." ''Give me the pen," cried Edward. And he hurriedly signed the warrant. "Take it hence," he cried, with a look of horror, and feeling as if he had committed a crime. Chap. K] THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION 453 The warrant was then countersigned by the protector and the whole of the council, after which it was delivered to the constable by Somerset, who bade him see it executed on the morrow, between the hours of nine and twelve in the fore- noon, on Tower-hill. **It shall be done," replied the constable, in a sombre tone. *' Princess," he added to Elizabeth, *'your errand here is accomplished. Come with me, I pray you." While Somerset and Warwick were glancing at each other with ill -disguised satisfaction, Elizabeth approached them ere they were aware, and fixing a piercing look on the protector, said in a low, freezing tone, *' Fratricide ! your own turn will come soon." Then perceiving a smile flit across Warwick's sombre coun- tenance, she added to him : ** Ha ! you smile, my lord. I read the secret of your soul. You would destroy both that you may rise and rule in their stead. But tremble ! you will not walk steadily where the path is slippery with blood. You will fall likewise." And she quitted the chamber with Gage. CHAPTER V THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION Not unprofitably may the admiral's last hours be contrasted with those of another noble captive, who, only two years before, had occupied the selfsame cell in the Bowyer Tower. Equally comely with Seymour was that illustrious captive — equally proud, daring, and perhaps ambitious, but yet more highly born, more richly endowed in mind, and far less guilty than the admiral. 454 T^E CONSTABLE OF THE TOPVER [Book 11^ Often did Seymour, in his long and lonely hours, think of him — often did he recall their last interview, and the pro- phetic denunciation uttered by the ill-fated Surrey. But far more sadly, far more painfully, passed the last hours of Sey- mour's existence than Surrey's had done. The latter had no guilt upon his soul, but had the consolations of religion and philosophy to support him. He could pray — could make his shrift to his confessor and receive absolution. To Surrey it was hard to die — but he was prepared. Seymour's con- science was heavily laden, yet could not be unburthened. Within him was a hell of fierce and conflicting passions, which he was compelled to endure. His pride sustained him, or he must have sunk beneath this mental torture. Groans and fierce imprecations burst from him — but he could not pray. He rejected, as we have seen, the efforts of Latimer and the Bishop of Ely. 'Twould be in vain, he thought, to supplicate Heaven for forgiveness — his oftences were too great. To man he would never acknowledge his guilt. Thus passed the dreary hours of his last day on earth. He knew not that it was his last, because intimation had not yet been given him that the execution was appointed for the morrow, and hope, not yet wholly extinct within his breast, suggested that his life might be spared. But he was more perturbed in spirit than he had ever hitherto been. Only rarely did he sit down; but for the most part con- tinued to pace fiercely to and fro within his cell, like a tiger in its cage. Towards night he became somewhat calmer, and, feeling exhausted, sat down upon his chair, when sleep insensibly stole over him. His dreams instantly carried him away from his prison, and brought him back to all the splendors of his gorgeous palace. Once more he was at the head of a princely retinue — once more in a spacious and richly-furnished apart- ment — once more Elizabeth smiled upon him, and showed hiro how to win her hand. Chap. K] THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION 455 From this bright dream he was suddenly and cruelly aroused by the drawing back of the ponderous bolts. The door opened, and the constable of the Tower came in with the warrant in his hand. His sad aspect, as revealed by the dim light of the lamp on the table, left no doubt as to the nature of hi^ errand. ** Good-night, Sir John," cried Seymour, rising, and speaking with forced composure. "I can guess the tidings you bring me. " "My lord,'* said Sir John, gravely, yet kindly, "you must prepare for eternity, for you will not see another night on earth. Your execution is fixed for to-morrow morning. It will take place on Tower-hill, and your remains will after- wards be buried in Saint Peter's Chapel in the Tower." "Where I was married to the queen," murmured Sey- mour, almost mechanically. "Where you were married to the queen," repeated the constable. " Here is the warrant," he added, laying it before him. "*Tis signed by the king!" cried Seymour, staring at it. "I thought he loved me too well to do this. But there is no faith in princes. Did the Princess Elizabeth speak with him, as she promised, Sir John ? ' ' "She did, my lordj but she could not move him. His majesty seemed persuaded of your guilt. I can give you no further hope, but recommend you a patient suffering of justice, and preparation to meet your Supreme Judge." " Remain with me a few minutes, I pray you, good Sir John," said the admiral, somewhat faintly. "The shock, though not unexpected, is severer than I deemed it would be." "You are a brave man, I know, my lord," observed the constable, looking at him with surprise, "and I fancied you had no fear of death." " Neither have I," replied Seymour ; "but I have not yet lost my love of life. One tie binds me to earth, which nothing 456 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER [BooJi JW but the axe can sever. How looked the princess to-day, good Sir John ? Did she send any message to me ? " '*She bade you a tender farewell, and sent you this em- broidered handkerchief, to which her lips have been pressed," replied the constable. '*Give it me, Sir John,'* cried Seymour, kissing it rap- turously. ''Dismiss her image, if you can, from your mind, my lord," said Gage, '* and make up your account with Heaven. You have much, I fear, to do, and but short time to do it in. Will you see Doctor Latimer to-night ? * ' '* No, Sir John. He troubles me more than he instructs or consoles me. I can pray to Heaven without his aid. ' ' ** But if you have any undivulged sin, 'twere well you eased your conscience by confession," remarked the constable. ''Since Heaven can read the secrets of all hearts, mine must be known to it," rejoined Seymour. "Why should I reveal them to man ? * ' "Heaven's ministers can give you absolution for your sins," said Gage. "Have compassion upon your soul, I implore you, and save it alive. If you will not see a minister of the gospel, let me send a Romish priest to you. Ha ! why do you stare so into the vacancy? " "Do you not see him?" cried Seymour, with horror- stricken looks, and pointing as he spoke. " There ! close behind you ! " " Whom do you imagine you behold ? " asked the consta- ble, not altogether free from the superstitious terrors that affected his companion. "A former inmate of this cell," replied Seymour, "who died, as I shall die, on Tower-hill. ' ' "The Earl of Surrey ! " exclaimed Gage. "Ay, Surrey," rejoined the admiral. "He points to his bleeding throat, as if to show me what my fate will be. Look at him, Sir John ! Look at him ! ' ' Chap. K] THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION 457 *' I can behold nothing," replied the constable, looking in the direction to which the admiral pointed. "Ha! he vanishes!'* exclaimed Seymour. **But in his place another phantom rises. 'Tis the injured queen, my consort. ' ' ** Queen Catherine ! *' exclaimed Gage, in amazement. **Her features are death -like, and she is wrapped in a shroud; but I know her," pursued Seymour. '*Her looks are full of woe and pity. Oh ! forgive me, injured queen ! forgive me! I cannot bear those looks." And he covered his face with his hands. There was a pause, during which Gage made no remark, but regarded his companion with mingled commiseration and wonder. After awhile, Seymour looked up again. " She is gone 1" he cried, greatly relieved. ** But what is this ? Another spectre rising to blast me ? Hence, hence ! accursed fiend ! Thou wert the cause of all." '* Whose spirit troubles you now, my lord ? " said the con- stable. ** That of my malignant and treacherous servant, Ugo Har- rington," replied Seymour. **He points to a yawning wound in his breast, ftom which blood is streaming, and seems to charge me with his slaughter. *Tis true I did it, and I would slay him again were it to do. He smiles upon me with a devilish grin, and disappears." ** Have these phantoms ever visited you before, my lord? " demanded the constable. ''Never thus," replied Seymour, "though I have had dreadful dreams." "Let me once more recommend you to make your peace with Heaven, ' ' said the constable. " These visions show how heavily laden must be your soul, and how needful it is it should be cleansed of its offences. Take what I say to you in good part, I pray you, my lord. 'Tis well meant." 458 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book 11^ ** I know it, and I thank you," replied Seymour, earnestly. ** I will strive to profit by your counsel." "And now good-night, my lord," said the constable, rising. "To-morrow I will be with you at the appointed hour." "You will find me ready," answered Seymour. On this. Gage took his departure. As soon as he was left alone, Seymour fell upon his knees, and for the first time since his imprisonment, prayed long and fervently. Much comforted, he then threw himself on his pallet, and slept tranquilly till the gaoler entered his cell next morning. " What time is it? " he demanded. "*Tis seven o'clock," replied Tombs. "Your lordship has but three hours left. At ten the procession sets forth. ' ' " Is the day fair? " inquired the admiral. " Somewhat cloudy, but I do not think there will be rain," rejoined the gaoler. "On a melancholy occasion like the present, 'tis meet the weather should correspond. I like not to see the sun shine on an execution. ' * "To me the weather is indifferent," replied Seymour. " Yet I shall less regret to quit the world if the skies frown on me. Thou must help to attire me presently. 'Tis the last time I shall trouble thee." "Ay, your lordship will do well to put on your bravest apparel. You will not die unobserved. There is a great crowd on Tower-hill already." "Already !" exclaimed Seymour, scarcely able to repress a shudder. " They are eager for the spectacle." "Ay, many of them came over-night, so Mauger tells me," rejoined Tombs. " He is without, if your lordship desires to see him." "Bring him in," said Sejmiour. And as he rose from his couch, and hastily enveloped himself in a black velvet robe, the headsman entered the cell. With him also came Xit, but Chap. K] THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION 459 as the dwarf kept in the background, Seymour did not at first notice him. **So thou hast brought the weapon of death with thee, I perceive, fellow?" cried the admiral, glancing sternly at Mauger, who was clad in a jerkin of blood-red serge, and carried the axe on his shoulder. **I thought your lordship might like to examine it,'* re- plied Mauger, offering him the weapon. ** If you will try the edge with your thumb, you will find it keen. ' * **I shall try its edge soon enough," rejoined Seymour. " Meantime, I will take thy word for its sharpness. What concerns me most is, that thou shouldst not do thy devoir clumsily. ' ' "Your lordship shall have no cause to complain of me," said Mauger. *'If I take not off your head at one blow, never trust me more." **I shall not require to trust thee more, good fellow," replied the admiral, with a half-smile. ** I have not much to give thee," he added, detaching some gold ornaments from his apparel. ** But thou art welcome to these." *' I thank your lordship," replied Mauger, as he took them. " I told you you would die by my hands, and my prediction, you see, has come to pass." *' But you predicted also that two others would perish in the same manner ? ' * *'And so they will." ** I could almost forgive thee the blow thou art about to deal me, were I certain of this. ' ' *' Then your lordship may rest as easy as if you saw it done," replied Mauger, with a grim smile. "Both their heads will fall by this axe. * ' And with an uncouth reverence he drew back, and, while doing so, discovered Xit. ''Ha! thou art come, my little knave?" cried Seymour, on perceiving him. ** I am glad to see thee." 460 THE CONST/IBLE OF THE TOIVER [Book 11^ *' I am come to take leave of your lordship," replied Xit, "and to crave some slight relic in remembrance of you.'* **Here is a brooch," replied Seymour, detaching it from his cap. ** I would fain have something that your lordship may wear on the scaffold," said Xit, with a certain significance. *'A11 his lordship's apparel will belong to me," observed Mauger. "True," replied Seymour, "but thou wilt not begrudge him my velvet slippers ? ' * " Marry, I do begrudge them ; but, since your lordship desires it, he shall have them," rejoined Mauger, gruffly. " Prithee, let him also have the handkerchief with which. I bind mine eyes ? ' ' said the admiral. Mauger returned a gruff assent. As the dwarf approached to take leave, the admiral whis- pered to him : "Within the sole of one of these slippers thou wilt find a letter to the Princess Elizabeth. See it conveyed to her highness. Give her also the handkerchief ' * "Your lordship's injunctions shall be fulfilled," replied Xit, pressing his hand upon his heart. And he quitted the cell with Mauger. For nearly an hour, the admiral was left to himself, and this interval he passed in prayer. He then attired himself with as much care as if preparing for a fdte, and Tombs, who ap- peared while he was thus engaged, aided him in making his toilette. His habiliments consisted of a doublet and hose of black velvet, with a robe of the same material. His cap was likewise of black velvet, adorned with a red plume. Shortly before the hour of ten, the awful rolling of muffled drums was heard outside, accompanied by the heavy tread of armed men. A body of yeomen of the guard, it was evident, was collected in front of the Bowyer Tower. As the bell tolled forth the fatal hour, the constable of the Tower, accom- Chap, y^ THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION 461 panied by the lieutenant, entered the cell. Seymour rose to meet them, and said, with a smile : "Good-morrow to you, Sir John Gage, and to you too, good Sir John Markham. I am glad to see you both. I will not keep you waiting.** But few more words passed between them. The little, however, that was said, strongly impressed both the con- stable and the lieutenant with Seymour's composure and firmness, and they felt assured that he would die with great constancy. *'Have you any charge to give me, my lord, ere we set out ? ' ' inquired the constable, kindly. ** Only this, good Sir John," replied Seymour, "and I am sure, from old friendship, you will see it done for me. You are aware,'* he continued, in a voice of deep emotion, "that I have an infant daughter, the offspring of my marriage with Queen Catherine. 'Tis a pretty child, but tender and deli- cate, and I much fear will not grow to maturity. My estates and possessions being forfeited to the Crown, I have not wherewithal to provide for my child. ' ' "Give yourself no concern on this score, my lord," ob- served the constable. "Your sister-in-law, the Duchess of Somerset, I am sure will take care of your infant daughter. ' ' " I would not have her committed to the duchess's care — nay, I forbid it," rejoined the admiral, sternly. "Let her be given to the Marchioness of Dorset, who, for my sake, I am certain, will treat her kindly. Give my child my blessing, good Sir John, and see my dying wish complied with." " It shall be done, my lord," replied the constable. While they were thus conversing, the door of the cell opened, and an austere-looking personage, habited in a cas- sock of dark stuff, and wearing the peculiar cap adopted by the reformed clergy, came in. This was Doctor Hugh Lati- mer, who, as already mentioned, had several times before 462 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER [Book ly visited the admiral during his imprisonment. A long, grey, pointed beard imparted a venerable character to the divine's somewhat sour physiognomy. A pair of large spectacles were suspended by a cord round his neck, and from his surcingle, in a black leathern case, hung the Bible. *'I am come to attend you to the scaffold, my lord,** he said, coldly saluting the admiral, "and I trust you are better prepared to appear before your Heavenly Judge than when I last parted from you." **At least, I am penitent," rejoined the admiral; '*but little time is now left me for amendment." '* Enough, my son, if you use it well," said Latimer, in a more softened tone. ** My lord, I must pray you to set forth," said the constable, throwing open the door and passing out. ** I am ready," replied Seymour, following him with a firm footstep. CHAPTER VI TOlVERrHlLl Outside, as we have intimated, was waiting a large body of yeomen of the guard, armed with halberds. In the midst of them stood Mauger, leaning on his axe, his features being con- cealed by a hideous black and bearded mask. Two chargers, trapped in black, were likewise in waiting for the constable and the lieutenant. Having mounted his steed. Sir John Gage gave the word to move on, and the mournful procession, which had been rapidly formed, set forward. At its head rode the constable, the sorrowful expression of his countenance showing how pro- Chap, yil TOIVER'HILL 463 foundly he was affected. His charger seemed to sympathize with him, and exhibited none of its customary spirit. Then followed the chaplain of the Tower, in his robes, with an open prayer-book in his hand, on which his eyes remained fixed as he moved along. Then came the trumpeters, with their clarions, which they did not sound, suspended from their necks. After them came the drummers, beating their muffled drums. Then came thirty yeomen of the guard, marching three abreast, and headed by the three gigantic warders. Then, after a short interval, came Mauger, masked, limping in his gait, and carrying the axe with its edge towards the prisoner, who marched with firm step and undaunted deport- ment a short distance behind him. The admiral was closely followed by Latimer. Another detachment of yeomen of the guard preceded by the lieutenant of the Tower on horseback, brought up the rear. Many persons were collected on the green, on the walls, and at different other points, curious to see how the admiral would demean himself on this trying occasion. All were astonished at his fortitude. His countenance was wan from anxiety and long confinement, but his figure was erect as ever, his carriage stately and dignified, and his looks haughty and unbending. Nothing that was passing within could be read from his features. But what memories of other and brighter days were wakened as he passed along the wide open space in front of the White Tower, and gazed at the palace beyond it ! To check the painful current of his thoughts, he looked in the opposite direction. At that moment he was close to the Beauchamp Tower, and, casting his eyes upon the frowning structure, he beheld the Duke of Norfolk gazing at him through a strongly-grated window. Their glances met, and how much did that single look convey ! There was no exultation over a fallen foe in the duke's glance — no smile of gratified vengeance lighted up his venerable features — but he shook his head mournfully. 464 THE COT^STABLE OF THE TOPVER [BoohtT Seymour faltered for a moment, but instantly recovering him- self, strode on with as much firmness as before. Norfolk's look and mournful shake of the head, however, continued to haunt him. ** I would I had not seen him,'* he thought. The procession now passed beneath the gloomy arch of the Bloody Tower, and in the outer ward more spectators were congregated, grouped on either side of the way. Many of these audibly expressed their commiseration for the admiral, but were rebuked both by word and gesture by Latimer, who shook his staff at them. But the ire of the austere divine was yet more vehemently roused by an incident which shortly afterwards occurred. The first detachment of the guard had passed through the gateway of the By -ward Tower, and Sey- mour was just approaching it, when Xit, who was stationed among the bystanders, sprang forward, and ere he could be prevented, threw himself at his feet. In another moment, the poor dwarf was removed by one of the guard, who pushed him aside with the pole of his halberd, but he sobbed out a piteous farewell. The most trying part of the ceremony had now to be under- gone, and Seymour braced his nerves firmly for it. Already the horrible roar of the vast multitude collected near the outer gate of the fortress and on Tower-hill could be distinctly heard. There was something awful in this sound, and for a moment Seymour felt appalled by it, but the feeling instantly passed away, and by the time he was exposed to the gaze of those thousand inquisitive spectators, whose eyes were eagerly fixed upon him, devouring his every look and gesture, and commenting upon them as a Roman concourse might upon a gladiator, he was as full of intrepidity as before. Nor did his extraordinary power of fascination fail him at this supreme moment. As he marched slowly on, looking to the right and left in search of friendly faces, loud murmurs arose among the crowd, cries began to be raised, many persons pressed forward, and it required the utmost efforts of the Chap. K/] TOIVER'HILL 465 arquebusiers, who were arranged in double lines all the way to the scaffold, to keep back the throng. "Be patient, my good friends," cried Seymour, waving them back. ** You will harm yourselves, and not serve me." But this, instead of allaying the excitement of the crowd, increased it, and the tumult threatening to become dangerous, Sir John Gage, fearing a rescue might be attempted, ordered the guard to close round the prisoner, and accelerate their pace. This was done, and not a moment too soon, for the lines of halberdiers were broken in two or three places by the rabble, who, disappointed in their expectations of reach- ing the admiral, attacked the guard, wrested their halberds from them, and a sharp conflict ensued, in the course of which some persons were killed, and many others grievously wounded. Loud and fierce execrations were uttered against the lord protector, and he was denounced as the murderer of his brother. In anticipation of some such disturbances as actually took place, a company of German lansquenets had been placed around the scaffold, and these were strengthened by the mounted city train-bands, so that the place of execution was completely invested. An enormous multitude was collected. The whole area of Tower-hill was thronged, and in the vicin- ity of the scaffold, which stood on the highest ground on the northwest of the fortress, scarce an inch of ground was unoccupied. Owing to the precautions taken by the constable, Seymour was brought to the scaffold in safety, and when he soon after- wards mounted the steps and appeared upon it, a tremendous shout arose from the beholders. Hitherto the day had been dull and gloomy, but at that moment a slight burst of sunshine fell upon him, and illumin- ing his noble countenance, rendered him yet more conspicuous to the vast assemblage, whose eyes were strained towards him. Not in his proudest moments had he looked more 30 466 THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOIVER {Book ly majestic than he did now that he stood upon those fatal boards, nor perhaps, for one instant, more elated. But the smile which had played upon his features quickly faded away, as did the sunshine that had lighted them up, and left them pale and rigid-looking as marble. He had been preceded upon the scaffold by the constable and the lieutenant, together with Mauger. By this time Latimer had mounted the steps, and stood beside him. No other person was allowed upon the scaffold. It had been the admiral's intention to address the crowd, and for this purpose he advanced towards the edge of the scaffold, and, bowing to the bystanders, began to speak, but such a tumult arose, and so many vociferations were raised, that his words were completely drowned, and he yielded — though with manifest reluctance — to the constable's entreaties to him to desist. Taking off his cap, he cried in a sonorous voice that rose loud above the disturbance, '* Long live King Edward ! ' * The shout was received with acclamations, fol- lowed by fresh groans and hootings against the lord protector. Latimer then approached him, and asked if he sincerely repented his sins, and placed his hope in the Saviour? But Seymour, scarcely heeding him, and anxious, as it seemed, to get done with the scene, called fiercely to the executioner to make haste, and throwing off his gown revealed a figure which, for symmetry, was unrivalled. Again Latimer approached him, and was again repulsed. Seymour then knelt down, and deep silence fell upon the multitude. His prayers, which did not occupy many minutes, being ended, he signed to Mauger that he was ready. Then, approaching the block, he knelt down beside it, took the broidered handkerchief sent him by Elizabeth from his doub- let, pressed his lips to it, and fastened it over his eyes. At this moment Latimer advanced, and cried out in his ear, '* Repent!" Chap, yil TOIVER-HILL 467 '*Away !** cried the admiral. ** You distract me.'* He then laid his comely neck upon the block, and the axe descended. Thus perished the guilty and aspiring Seymour. According to Latimer, he died '* very dangerously, irksomely, horribly." Others, however, judged him more charitably, and thought he made a brave ending. No doubt he suffered justly. Under the superintendence of the worthy constable, his mutilated remains were interred in Saint Peter's Chapel in the Tower. Three years later, his brother, the Duke of Somerset — ^like- wise decapitated — was laid beside him. Eighteen months after that, the ambitious Duke of Northumberland, known in this chronicle as the Earl of Warwick, also beheaded, was buried in the same place, within a few paces of the brothers whose destruction he had contrived. The three graves may still be seen. Thus Far the Fourth and Last Book of the Constable of the tower CONTENTS PROLOGUE.— THE WILL OF HENRY VIII CHAPTBR PAGB I How the Right High and Renowned King Henry the Eighth "Waxed Grievously Sick, and was Like to Die 3 II Of the Snare Laid by her Enemies for Queen Catherine Parr ; and How she Fell into it 8 III Of the Means of Avoiding the Peril Proposed by Sir Thomas Seymour to the Queen z8 IV How the Designs of Wriothesley and Gardiner were Foiled by the Queen's Wit 23 V Of the Interview Between the Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Seymour in the Bowyer Tower 32 VI How the King, Finding his End Approach, Took a Last Leave of the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth, and of the Prince Edward ; and of the Counsel he Gave them ... 43 VII Of the Awful Summons Received by the King 60 VIII In What Manner the King's Will was Signed 67 BOOK I.— THE LORD PROTECTOR I How the Earl of Hertford and Sir Anthony Brown Announced his Father's Death to Prince Edward 79 469 470 CONTENTS CHAPTBR PACB II How King Edward the Sixth was Proclaimed at Westminster ; How he Rode from Enfield to the Tower of London ; and How the Keys of the Tower were DeUvered to him by the Constable 87 III How the Earl of Hertford was Made Lord Protector of the Realm, and Governor of the King's Person during hb Nonage 98 IV How the Youthful King was Knighted by the Lord Protector ; and How the Lord Mayor of London was Knighted by the King 105 V How King Edward VI. Went Forth Betimes into the Privy- Garden of the Tower ; How he There Encountered the Youthful Lady Jane Grey, and of the Profitable Discourse that Ensued Between them Ill VI Of the Difference Between the Lord Protector and Sir Thomas Seymour, and How it was Adjusted 124 VII Of the Affront Offered by Queen Catherine Parr to the Countess of Hertford ; and How Ugo Harrington was Sent to Conduct the Princess Elizabeth to the Tower . . 1 33 VIII How Xit was Appointed the King's Dwarf; and How Og, Gog, and Magog Craved a Boon of the King 141 IX In What Manner Mauger, the Headsman, Foretold that Certain Lords Should Die by his Hand 152 X How King Edward Visited the Duke of Norfolk in the Beau- champ Tower 157 XI Showing How Sir Thomas Seymour Prospered in ius Suit 168 XII Of the Interview Between Sir Thomas Seymour and the Princess Elizabeth ; and How it was Interrupted ... 178 CONTENTS 471 CHAPTSR PAGB XIII How the Countess of Hertford was Balked of her Revenge ; and in What Manner Xit Sought to Divert the King . . 185 XIV Showing How Ugo Harrington was Adxnitted into Sir Thomas Seymour's Confidence 195 XV Of Xit's Perilous Flight Across the Tower Moat on Paco- let's Horse 205 XVI In What Manner the Obsequies of King Henry the Eighth were Celebrated ; Showing How the Funeral Procession Set Forth from the Palace at Westminster 214 XVII What was Seen and Heard at Midnight by the Watchers in the Conventual Church at Sion 223 XVIII How the Royal Corpse was Brought to Saint George's Chapel 229 XIX Pulvis Pulveri, Qnis Cineri 238 BOOK II.— THE LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND I How Edward Passed his Time While Left to himself Within the Tower 247 II From which it will be Seen that the Princess Elizabeth was not Entirely Cured of her Passion 253 III How the Earl of Hertford was Made Duke of Somerset ; and How Sir Thomas Sejmaour was Ennobled 256 IV How Lord Seymour of Sudley was Qandestinely Married to Queen Catherine Parr, in Saint Peter's Chapel in the Tower 263 V How King Edward Rode fix)m the Tower to the Palace of Whitehall 268 472 CONTENTS CHAPTBtt PAGE VI How King Edward VI. was Crowned in Westminster Abbey 278 VII Of the Royal Banquet in Westminster Hall ; How the King's Champion Made his Challenge Thereat; and How Xit Fought with a Wild Man 285 VIII How the Lord Chancellor was Disgraced 290 IX In What Manner the Lord High Admiral Discharged the Duties of his Office 294 X How Queen Catherine Parr Passed her Time at Chelsea Manor-House 304 XI Of the F^te Given at Seymour House by the Lord Admiral . 313 XII In What Manner the Lord Admiral's Marriage with the Queen was Announced 321 XIII How the Admiral's Passion for the Princess Elizabeth was Revived 329 XIV How the Lord Admiral Supplied his Royal Nephew with Money 334 XV How the Admiral's Letter was Copied by the King .... 339 XVI How the Admiral Proposed to Lay the King's Grievances Before Parliament 342 XVII How the Protector and the Admiral were again Reconciled . 349 BOOK III.— PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT I Of the Arrangement Made by the Admiral with the Master of the Mint at Bristol 361 II SudleyC^tle 368 III How the Lord Admiral Became a Widower 378 IV How the Admiral Proposed a Secret Marriage tb the Princess Elizabeth 387 CONTENTS 473 CHAPTBB PAGE V How the Admiral Sought to Gain Possession of the Tower . . 390 VI In which Ugo Harrington Appears in his True Colors . . , 397 VII How Sir "William Sharington was Examined by the Council and Put to the Torture 400 VIII The Counterplot 403 IX How the King was Taken to the Tower by the Admiral, and "What Happened There 407 X How the Admiral was Arrested 418 BOOK IV.— THE BOWYER TOWER I How Sir William Sharington was Confronted with the Admiral 431 II By whose Aid the Admiral Sent a Letter to the Princess Elizabeth 439 III How the Princess Elizabeth Visited the Admiral in his Cell 443 IV How the Princess Elizabeth Interceded for the Admiral with the King ; and How the Death-"Warrant was Signed . . . 447 V The Night Before the Execution 453 VI Tower-Hill . 462 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS VOLUME IV PAGE HENRY VIII. BLESSING HIS DAUGHTERS Fronts. EDWARD VI 56 ELIZABETH AND SEYMOUR DISCOVERED 1 84 UGO POISONING THE QUEEN' S POTION 376 475 Y,C ! 02092