“It is with infinite concern that I have to apprise your Majesty that news has just been brought that Sir Edward Hastings, with an army of four thousand men, has gone over to the Lady Mary. Five counties also have revolted. Your Highness is already aware that the Earls of Sussex, Bath, and Oxford, Lord Wentworth, Sir Thomas Cornwallis, and Sir Henry Jerningham, have raised the commoners of Suffolk and Norfolk. Lord Windsor, Sir Edmond Peckham, Sir Robert Drury, and Sir Edward Hastings, have now raised those of Buckinghamshire. Sir John Williams and Sir Leonard Chamberlain have stirred up a party in Oxfordshire, and Sir Thomas Tresham another in Northamptonshire. These rebels with their companions are now marching towards Framlingham Castle.”
“The revolt must be instantly checked,” rejoined Jane. “An army must be sent against her.”
“To whom will your Majesty entrust its command?” inquired the Earl of Pembroke.
“To one well fitted for the office — my father, the Duke of Suffolk,” answered the Queen.
“My advice is, that it be given to the Duke of Northumberland,” said the Earl of Arundel. “Wherever he has carried his arms — in Scotland and in France — he has been victorious. The recollection of the defeat sustained by the rebels at Dussindale will operate in his favor. His Grace has every recommendation for the office. Having achieved the victory of Norfolk once already, he will be so feared that none will dare to lift up a weapon against him. Besides which, I need scarcely remind your Highness, who must be familiar with his high reputation, that he is the best man of war in the realm, as well for the ordering of his camps and soldiers, both in battle and in the tent, as for his experience and wisdom, with which he can both animate his army and either vanquish his enemies by his courage and skill, or else dissuade them, if need be, from their enterprise.”
“My voice is for Northumberland,” cried Cecil.
“And mine,” added Huntington.
“We are all unanimous,” cried the rest of the Council. “Your Grace hears the opinion just given,” said Jane. “Will you undertake the command?”
“No,” answered the Duke bluntly. “I will shed my blood in your Majesty’s defence. But I see through the designs of your artful Council, and will not be made their dupe. Their object is to withdraw me from you. Let the Duke of Suffolk take the command. I will maintain the custody of the Tower.”
“Do not suffer him to decline it,” whispered Simon Renard to the Queen. “By this means you will accomplish a double purpose — insure a victory over Mary, and free yourself from the yoke he will otherwise impose upon you. If the Duke of Suffolk departs, and he is left absolute master of the Tower, you will never attain your rightful position.”
“You are right,” replied Jane. “My lord,” she continued, addressing the Duke, “I am satisfied that the Council mean you well. And I pray you, therefore, to acquiesce in their wishes and my own.”
“Why will not your Highness send the Duke of Suffolk, as you have this moment proposed?” rejoined Northumberland.
“I have bethought me,” replied the Queen. “And as my husband has thought fit to absent himself from me at this perilous juncture, I am resolved not to be left without a protector. Your Grace will, therefore, deliver up the keys of the Tower to the Duke of Suffolk.”
“Nay, your Majesty,” cried Northumberland.
“I will have no nay, my lord,” interrupted the Queen peremptorily “I will in nowise consent that my father shall leave me. To whom else would your Grace entrust the command?”
The Duke appeared to reflect for a moment.
“I know no one,” he answered.
“Then your Grace must perforce consent,” said the Queen.
“If your Majesty commands it, I must. But I feel it is a desperate hazard,” replied Northumberland.
It is so desperate,” whispered Pembroke to Renard, “that he has not one chance in his favor.”
“The Council desire to know your Grace’s determination,” said Arundel.
“My determination is this,” rejoined the Duke. “Since you think it good, I will go, not doubting your fidelity to the Queen’s Majesty, whom I shall leave in your custody.”
“He is lost!” whispered Renard.
“Your Grace’s commission for the lieutenantship of the army shall be signed at once,” said Jane; “and I beseech you to use all diligence.”
“I will do what in me lies,” replied the Duke. “My retinue shall meet me at Durham House to-night. And I will see the ammunition and artillery set forward before daybreak.”
A pause now ensued, during which the Duke’s commission was signed by the whole Council.
“It is his death-warrant,” observed Renard to the Earl of Arundel.
“Here is your warrant, under the broad seal of England,” said the Earl of Pembroke, delivering it to him.
“I must have my marches prescribed,” replied the Duke. “I will do nothing without authority.”
“What say you, my lords?” said Pembroke, turning to them.
“Agree at once,” whispered Renard; “he is planning his own ruin.”
“Your Grace shall have full powers and directions,” rejoined Pembroke.
“It is well,” replied Northumberland. “My lords,” he continued with great dignity, addressing the Council, “I and the other noble personages, with the whole army that are now about to go forth, as well for the behalf of you and yours as for the establishing of the Queen’s Highness, shall not only adventure our bodies and lives amongst the bloody strokes and cruel assaults of our adversaries in the open fields; but also we leave the conservation of ourselves, children and families at home here with you, as altogether committed to your truth and fidelity. If,” he proceeded sternly, “we thought you would, through malice, conspiracy, or dissension, leave us, your friends, in the briars and betray us, we could as well, in sundry ways, foresee and provide for our own safety, as any of you, by betraying us, can do for yours. But now, upon the only trust and faithfulness of your honors, whereof we think ourselves most assured, we do hazard our lives. And if ye shall violate your trust and promise, hoping thereby of life and promotion, yet shall not God account you innocent of our bloods, neither acquit you of the sacred and holy oath of allegiance, made freely by you to the Queen’s Highness, who, by your own and our enticement, is rather of force placed therein, than by her own seeking and request. Consider, also, that God’s cause, which is the preferment of His word, and fear of Papists’ entrance, hath been (as you have heretofore always declared), the original ground whereupon you even at the first motion granted your good wills and consents thereunto, as by your handwritings appeareth. And think not the contrary. But if ye mean deceit, though not forthwith, yet hereafter, Heaven will revenge the same.”
“Your Grace wrongs us by these suspicions,” observed the Earl of Arundel.
“I will say no more,” rejoined the Duke, “but in this perilous time wish you to use constant hearts, abandoning all malice, envy, and private affections.”
“Doubt it not,” said Cecil.
“I have not spoken to you in this sort upon any mistrust I have of your truths,” pursued the Duke, “of which I have always hitherto conceived a trusty confidence.
But I have put you in remembrance thereof, in case any variance should arise amongst you in my absence. And this I pray you, wish me not worse good speed in this matter than you wish yourselves.”
“We shall all agree on one point,” observed Pembroke aside to Renard—” and that is a hope that he may never return.”
“If your Grace mistrusts any of us in this matter, you are deceived,” rejoined Arundel, “for which of us can wash his hands of it? And if we should shrink from you as treasonable, which of us can excuse himself as guiltless? Therefore, your doubt is too far cast.”
“I pray Heaven it be so,” replied the Duke gravely “Brother of Suffolk, I resign the custody of the Tower to you, entreating you, if you would uphold your daughter’s crown, to look well to your charge. I now take my leave
of your Highness.”
“Heaven speed your Grace,” replied Jane, returning his haughty salutation.
“Farewell, my lord,” said the Earl of Arundel, “I am right sorry it is not my chance to bear you company, as I would cheerfully spend my heart’s blood in your defence.”
“Judas!” muttered the Duke.
Upon this the Council broke up, and Jane returned to the palace, accompanied by the Duke of Suffolk, the two ambassadors, and others of the conspiring nobles.
“We may give each other joy,” said Pembroke to Renard as they walked along— “we are at last rid of Northumberland. Suffolk will be easily disposed of.”
“Queen Mary shall be proclaimed in London before tomorrow night,” rejoined Renard.
Meanwhile, the Duke, attended by the Marquis of Northampton, the Lord Grey, and divers other noblemen, entered his barge, and proceeded to Durham House. On the same night he mustered his troops, and made every preparation for his departure. As he rode forth on the following morning through Shoreditch, great crowds collected to see him pass. But they maintained a sullen and ominous silence.
“The people press to see us,” observed the Duke in a melancholy tone to Lord Grey, who rode by his side; “but not one saith God speed us!”
CHAPTER XII.
HOW MAGOG BECAME ENAMORED OF A BUXOM WIDOW YCLEPED DAME PLACIDA PASTON; HOW HE WENT A WOOING; AND HOW HE PROSPERED IN HIS SUIT.
ON the night of the Duke of Northumberland’s departure, as the three gigantic warders and their dwarfish attendant were assembled in their lodging in the By-ward Tower, preparatory to their evening meal, the conduct of Magog, which had been strange enough throughout the 8 day, became so very extraordinary and unaccountable, that his brethren began to think he must have taken leave of his senses. Flinging his huge frame on a bench, he sighed and groaned, or rather bellowed, like an overdriven ox, and rolling his great saucer eyes upwards, till the whites only were visible, thumped his chest with a rapid succession of blows, that sounded like the strokes of a sledge hammer. But the worst symptom, in the opinion of the others, was his inability to eat. Magog’s case must, indeed, be desperate, if he had no appetite for supper — and such a supper! Seldom had their board been so abundantly and invitingly spread as on the present occasion — and Magog refused to partake of it. He must either be bewitched or alarmingly ill.
Supplied by the provident attention of the pan tier and his spouse, the repast consisted of a cold chine of beef, little the worse for its previous appearance at the royal board; a mighty lumber pie, with a wall of pastry several inches thick, moulded to resemble the White Tower, and filled with a savoury mess of ham and veal, enriched by a goodly provision of forcemeat balls, each as large as a cannon-shot; a soused gurnet floating in claret; a couple of pullets stuffed with oysters, and served with a piquant sauce of oiled butter and barberries; a skirret pasty; an apple tansy; and a prodigious marrow pudding. Nor, in this bill of fare, must be omitted an enormous loaf, baked expressly for the giants, and compounded of nearly a bushel of mingled wheaten flour and barley, which stood at one end of the table, while at the opposite extremity was placed a nine-hooped pot of mead — the distance between each hoop denoting a quart of the humming fluid.
But all these good things were thrown away upon Magog. With some persuasion he was induced to take his seat at the table, but after swallowing a single mouthful of the beef, he laid down his knife and fork, and left the rest untasted. In vain Og urged him to try the pullets, assuring him he would find them delicious, as they were cooked by Dame Potentia herself: — in vain Gog scooped out the most succulent morsels from the depths of the lumber pie, loading his plate with gobbets of fat and forcemeat balls. He declined both offers with a melancholy shake of the head, and began to sigh and groan more dismally than ever.
Exchanging significant looks with each other, the two giants thought it best to leave him to himself, and assiduously addressed themselves to their own meal. By way of setting him a good example, they speedily cleared the chine to the bone. The gurnet was next despatched; and a considerable inroad made into the lumber pie — three of its turrets having already disappeared, — when, as if roused from a trance, Magog suddenly seized the marrow pudding, and devoured it in a trice. He then applied himself to the nine-hooped pot, and taking a long deep draught, appeared exceedingly relieved.
But his calmness was of short duration. The fit almost instantly returned with fresh violence. Without giving the slightest intimation of his intention, he plucked his cap from his brow, and flung it at Xit, who chanced at the moment to be perched upon a stool stirring a great pan of sack posset, set upon a chafing-dish to warm, with such force as to precipitate him over head and ears into the liquid, which, fortunately, was neither hot enough to scald him nor deep enough to drown him. When he reappeared, the mannikin uttered a shrill scream of rage and terror; and Og, who could not help laughing at his comical appearance, hastened to his assistance, and extricated him from his unpleasant situation.
By the aid of a napkin, Xit was speedily restored to a state of tolerable cleanliness, and though his habiliments were not a little damaged by the viscous fluid in which they had been immersed, he appeared to have suffered more in temper than in any other way from the accident. While Og was rubbing him dry — perhaps with no very gentle hand — he screamed and cried like a peevish infant undergoing the process of ablution; and he was no sooner set free, than darting to the spot where Magog’s cap had fallen, he picked it up, and dipping it in the sack-posset, hurled it in its owner’s face. Delighted with this retaliation, he crowed and swaggered about the room, and stamping fiercely upon the ground, tried to draw his sword; but this he found impossible, it being fast glued to the scabbard. Magog, however, paid no sort of attention to his antics, but having wiped his face with the end of the table-cloth, and wrung his bonnet, marched deliberately out of the room. His brothers glanced at each other in surprise, and were hesitating whether to follow, when they were relieved from further anxiety on this score by Xit, who hurried after him. They then very quietly returned to the repast, and trusting all would come right, contented themselves with such interjectional remarks as did not interfere with the process of mastication. In this way they continued, until the return of Xit, who, as he entered the room, exclaimed, with a half-merry, half-mischievous expression of countenance, “I have found it out — I have found it out.”
“Found out what?” cried out both giants.
“He is in love,” replied the dwarf “Magog in love!” ejaculated Og, starting. “Impossible!”
“You shall be convinced to the contrary if you will come with me,” rejoined Xit. “I have seen him enter the house. And, what is more, I have seen the lady.”
“Who is she?” demanded Gog.
“Can you not guess?” rejoined Xit.
“The fair Cicely,” returned the giant.
“You are wide of the mark,” replied the dwarf—” though I confess, she is lovely enough to turn his head outright. But he is not so moonstruck as to aspire to her. Had I sought her hand, there might have been some chance of success. But Magog — pshaw!”
“Tush!” cried Og, “I will be sworn it is Mistress Bridget Crumbewell, the bowyer’s daughter, who hath bewitched him. I have noted that she hath cast many an amorous glance at him of late. It is she, I’ll be sworn.”
“Then you are forsworn, for it is not Bridget Crumbewell,” rejoined Xit— “the object of his affections is a widow.”
“A widow!” exclaimed both giants—” then he is lost.”
“I see not that,” replied the dwarf. “Magog might do worse than espouse Dame Placida Paston. Her husband, old Miles Paston, left a good round sum behind him, and a good round widow too. She has a bright black eye, a tolerable waist for so plump a person, and as neat an ankle as can be found within the Tower, search where you will. I am half disposed to enter the lists with him.”
“Say you so,” replied Og, laughing at the dwarf’s presumption, “then e�
��en make the attempt. And such assistance as we can render shall not be wanting; for neither Gog nor I — if I do not misapprehend his sentiments — have any desire that our brother should enter into the holy state of matrimony.”
“Right, brother,” rejoined Gog; “we must prevent it if possible, and I see not a better way than that you propose. If it does nothing else, it will afford us excellent pastime.”
“Excuse me a moment,” observed Xit. “If I am to play the suitor to advantage, I must change my dress. I will return on the instant, and conduct you to Dame Placida’s dwelling.”
So saying, he withdrew for a short space, during which he arrayed himself in his holiday garments. “Magog will have no chance,” he observed, as he strutted into the room, and glanced at his pigmy limbs with an air of intense self-satisfaction: “the widow is already won.”
“If she be as fond of apes as some of her sex, she is so,” replied Og; “but widows are not so easily imposed upon.”
The two giants, who, during Xit’s absence had entirely cleared the board, and wound up the repast by emptying the nine-hooped pot, now expressed themselves ready to start. Accordingly, they set out, and, preceded by Xit, shaped their course along the southern ward, and passing beneath the gateway of the Bloody Tower, ascended the hill leading to the Green, on the right of which, as at the present time, stood a range of buildings inhabited by the warders and other retainers of the royal household.
Before one of these Xit stopped, and pointing to an open window about six feet from the ground, desired Gog to raise him up to it. The giant complied, when they beheld a sight that filled them with merriment. Upon a stout oak table — for there was no chair in the domicile sufficiently large to sustain him — sat Magog, his hand upon his breast, and his eyes tenderly fixed upon a comely dame, who was presenting him with a large foaming pot of ale. The languishing expression of the giant’s large, lumpish features was so irresistibly diverting, that it was impossible to help laughing; and the lookers-on only restrained themselves, in the hope of witnessing something still more diverting.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 127
